#having similar schedules and all :( and right after this they have dream tour . but yet they still have to cope with this loss of 127 for a

[haec-an]

mark & haechan: the unity in japan d-2 last day 240310

[damn-stark]

Survivor

Chapter 5 of Cherry

A/N: I really hope you guys like this and I promise there will be more Reiner and rc interactions ;)

Warning- Angst, SLOWBURN, Violence, LONG CHAPTER! Talks of death and blood.

Pairing- Jean Kirstein x reader, Reiner Braun x reader

Episodes- 1x17

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“Squad I’d like to present you to Cherry,” Levi introduces you to his own squad who quietly watch you with eyes filled with curiosity.

“It’s y/n,” you correct him through gritted teeth, as a happy smile spreads on your lips while you finally had the honor to meet the squad he had spoken about in his letters.

“It’s the same thing,” he remarks nonchalantly.

“Not really, because one is my actual name and the other—”

“Y/N? You’re alive!” You hear a voice exclaim before your eyes wander to the entrance of the room where you notice Eren walking in with his eyes wide and filled with a surprise and a bit of joy.

“Eren!” You exclaim happily, “you’re okay, right?”

Said boy walks over to you and nods to answer your concern filled question. “Yeah, I’m alright, are you? Are the rest of our friends?”

You hesitate at the sound of his question, feeling your smile falter at the memory of one friend who wasn’t so lucky to have made it. Eren doesn’t catch your fault though, his green eyes remain filled with concern whilst he waits for your answer that never came as Levi interrupted you. “Cherry, listen.”

You tear your eyes away from Eren and focus on Levi and nod, “right,” before you look back to the four members of his special operations squad. “I’m y/n.”

Levi eyes roll to you and then slide to his squad members, not giving them any kind of audible signal before they all begin to introduce themselves, starting with a tall blonde man that had his hair picked up and sported a goatee on his chin. “I’m Eld Gin.”

“I’m Gunther Schultz,” A dark haired man said right after, pulling your attention to him and letting you recognize that some of these members looked familiar, you probably had seen them before but you weren’t sure now. There were too many soldiers to keep track of, you only talked to the ones you saw the most.

“Hi, I’m Petra Rall,” the only woman in his squad spoke not so long after, offering you a small smile that you returned before your eyes landed on one last man with his light brown hair styled in a nice undercut haircut. One you couldn’t help but notice off the bat appeared a bit odd to you...appearance wise anyways—“Oruo Bozad.” He said nonchalantly with his arms crossed over his chest.

Slowly you tear your gaze away from him and give all the members one last look before you look at Levi beside you. “And of course,” he continued, “you know Eren.”

You nod and a grin slowly spreads on your lips as you solely look at Levi and grab his arm to ask one last thing excitedly. “So does this mean I can join, Levi squad?!”

“Yeah, can she?” Eren asks after you in a more hopeful tone. Perhaps because he was hopeful he’d have someone his age in the squad. But that wouldn't be the case.

Levi’s blue eyes shift to you and his eyes narrow before he shakes his head. “No. But you can earn your spot like they did and then we can talk.”

“Tsk.” You pull your hands away from his arm and sigh in disappointment.

“But,” he added as he unfolded his arms and shoved his hand in his pocket to pull out a folded parchment paper. “Here. It’s for you.” He says in a mischievous tone that you only caught as you took the paper and he began to walk out of the room. “I’ll give you a few minutes to talk to them before you have to rejoin the recruits.”

Before you could try to input something concerning the paper, or the fact that your friends were taking a tour of the grounds that you knew by heart, Levi leaves the room with all eyes on the paper he had given you. “Open it,” Eren points to the paper in your hand. You look down at it and think for a moment, before you pout at the realization of what he had given you so publicly.

“Why don’t you?” You sigh, as you hand him the paper and sit back in a chair to rest your chin on your hand as you prop your elbow on the table beside you.

Erens green eyes lifted from the paper in his hand to look at you with his eyebrows pinched together and his fingers under the fold. “Are you sure?”

“Knock yourself out,” you mutter bitterly, noticing the rest of the squad all had knowing smirks on their faces as Erens curiosity got the best of him. Like you, they knew that the paper didn’t contain anything worthwhile, Eren on the other hand still was getting to know who Levi truly was and expected to read something juicy. But as he unfolded on the paper, and his eyes scanned the inside, his eyes lost their spark, and his smile fell. He slowly lowered his hand and turned to look at you with his face twisted.

“It’s a chores list?”

“Yeah,” you groan as you drop your head to the table's surface. “I knew it. Ughh…”

“It says,” Eren interjects, “you can help the Levi Squad with their chores.”

“Stab my leg won’t you?” You grumble to the wooden table, hearing a few of the other members snicker, whilst Eren still had the need to remark to you.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?”

“What was she going to tell you, Eren?” You hear one of the guy members ask him in a playful tone, “that our captain was a clean freak? It would have ruined the illusion and his reputation.”

You pick up your head only far enough so you could peek one eye out, noticing that it had been Eld who had just commented that. “Plus, it’s always funny seeing the newcomers realize that Levi isn’t just Humanity’s greatest soldier.” You snicker, making everyone laugh and nod in agreement. “And you thought I was a clean freak before,” you smirk, “you hadn’t met him yet...you’re still getting to know him.” You fully lift your head to see him with both eyes, barely catching as Eren throws your chores list back to you with a look of disappointment expressed all over his face. “I hope he’s been treating you well.”

“Well he still has me sleeping down in the basement,”

Eren comments bitterly, “but I mean, I understand why he would. Besides that he isn’t bad.”

“Good,” you say before your attention gets suddenly interrupted by Oruo.

“Say kid, where is it the Captain got you from? Are you really his kid?”

“Uh,” you voice, catching his comrade Petra shaking her head at his comment while the others just sigh before you continue unsurely and confused. “He got me from his doorstep?” You blink a few times and notice he seemed to be deep in thought. “Levi is not my actual father...he—” you abruptly cut yourself off as your eyes refocus on the way his hair was styled in an undercut, the way he kept his face so nonchalant and had a similar cravat to Levi’s. You also couldn’t help but notice the way he stood and tried to keep his posture, his voice also began to echo in your mind and you couldn’t help but pick out the similarity there too. It was all something that made you slowly grin.

“...I see now,” you comment to him smugly, whilst your eyes scanned his outfit and lifted back on his face. “Your cravat is a shade off. And,” you pause to stand up and shift your posture and change your voice to mock Levi’s, “you should stand like this and lower your voice a bit more.”

Oruos eyes widened but he’s quick to catch himself, quick to turn down what you suggested to him as his comrades burst into laughter and Eren seemed a bit lost. “I don’t know what you’re talking about brat.”

You smirk and change back to your own posture and voice. “It’s okay, I find it funny.”

“Oruo,” Petra interjected, “don’t talk to the Captain's kid like that.”

“It’s okay,” you assure them, “I don’t mind, but really,” you then change your voice and your expression to once again mock Levi’s. “It’s like this.” You smile brightly and switch back to your own voice. “It was an honor meeting you all.” You begin to walk to the door and continue. “I guess I’ll see you all later, for now I have to go before he comes back and gets me in trouble.” Your eyes shift to Eren and you wave at him. “See ya later, Eren.”

As far as first days go, this first day as an official Scout was like the rest. There were introductions, touring, assignments, schedules on the classes every new recruit needed to attend to memorize Erwins formation for the expedition that everyone was going to join. Something that surprised you because from what you did pick up before you left, usually the new recruits wouldn’t attend the expedition, not until they had proper time to memorize the map. But this time it was different. But then again, perhaps it was just a new normal now.

And it’s not like you could just skip these classes, you were a recruit now. It was an obligation. Just like your chores were too. Nonetheless you preferred chores over the classes that you had to admit were dreadfully boring. No matter how much you claimed to like learning, these weren’t really the classes you wanted. Not only that, but learning that as recruits you were going to go on your first expedition in a month was really hard, for some more than the others. It was a good thing that reuniting with Eren lifted some of your friends' spirits after hearing such heavy news. Yours on the other hand lasted until the night.

As night rolled around, as you lay in your bunk and closed your eyes, sleep came but soon was interrupted by the same nightmare you’ve had the past month; the one where you’re underground again, basked in darkness and cornered by the dead bodies of Furlan and Isabel. Only this time, Marcos' body was there too. The darkness was invasive but you knew he was there now too; haunting your dreams and not letting you get any sleep out of fear of both the dark and their bloodied bodies.

You tried rolling to your other side, tried to find assurance in the orange-red flame from the candlelight that casted your body's shadow on the wall beside you, but it didn’t work. So instead of trying to sleep again, you quietly roll off of bed and grab a book from under your bed, quietly grab your candlelight and carefully tiptoe out of the girls bunk room to walk towards Levi’s room. You knew he hardly slept, so you knew going to him in the middle of the night was always welcomed. Not like he cared if you were there when he was sleeping too.

When you got to the outside of his door, you saw the soft candlelight peeking out from under the door and expected him to be awake. But as you knocked once and slowly opened the door after no answer, you were welcomed with the sight of him slouched over his desk fast asleep. You softly huffed out at the sight and quietly closed the door after you, walking in and placing your book on the bed to instead grab his pillow and blanket. “How many times,” you whisper to yourself as you make your way to where he is. “Have I told him to sleep on his bed?”

There was no point in trying to move him to his bed, you knew if you tried he’d wake up the moment you lifted him from the chair. So instead you did the thing you always did; you threw the blanket over his body, very gently picked up his head to move his things to the side and instead slide the pillow under his head, so he wouldn’t have to lay on the hard surface. “There you go,” you continue to whisper as you successfully step back without waking him up. “Goodnight, Levi.” You smile softly, turning back around to grab your book and lay on his bed to read instead. Finding comfort in hearing his soft snores fill the candlelit room; smiling to yourself as you read the book you were rereading and unknowingly passing out after some time. Much to Levi’s surprise as he woke up not so much longer after.

He groggily lifted his head off the pillow he was surprised to be laying on, and kept his eyes on you for a few minutes to try and realize that this wasn’t a dream. You were in fact back. When that realization hit him he didn’t hesitate to push himself off his chair, grabbing the blanket that slid off his body and the pillow on his desk. He quietly stepped to the side of the bed and threw the blanket over your curled up body, lifting your head to pull away the book that you were accidentally drooling on and placing the same pillow you left him, under your own head.

Before he sat back on his chair, he slowly leaned in to gently stroke your cheek with his knuckle as he still couldn’t believe the person he was seeing. He couldn’t help but sigh deeply as his mind tried to process the fact that you had aged up so much in the past three years he hadn’t seen you. He couldn’t help but notice that your face had changed, that your body had matured and was still doing so, that your eyes didn’t carry the same innocent glow they once did. He had wanted to keep you protected from all the ugliness the world had, but it was impossible, he knew that the moment he found you on his doorstep. Yet throughout the years he couldn’t help but be delusional to that certain fact.

He couldn’t be that way anymore, you both knew that. No matter how much he wanted to keep you secured under the security of his cape, and in the warmth of his arms. He had to let you spread your own wings now, experience for yourself all the dangers he dreaded you facing, everything life had to offer you. All he could do now was watch you grow, advise and protect you when he could without completely smothering you. He couldn’t help but think if this was the same good type of heartache his own mother suffered as she raised him...he just never expected to get so attached.

——

“Cherry seed.”

Your eyes fly to Jean after that nickname spills out of his mouth, and as you're sitting across from him you shoot him a feigned smile and snap back, “horse face.”

His dark eyebrows furrow and he scoffs, “don’t call me that.”

“Then don’t call me what you just did, two can play at that game and I'd hate to see you lose.” You remark while a smirk pulls on the corner of your lips.

Jean just shoots you a pointed glare before he takes a spoonful of his breakfast and changes the subject. “Where have you been? I didn’t see you all of yesterday, I almost forgot you existed.”

“I was busy,” you shrug as you prop your elbows on the table. “But you’ll see more of me from now on. I get no special treatment so I’ll be stuck as if I were actually new here.”

“Oh how poor of you.” Jean feigns pity before taking another spoonful of breakfast. “To be stuck with us fresh meat and not get an immediate promotion.”

“It truly does suck,” you answer sarcastically whilst you rest your chin on your hand and feign a pout. “To think I could’ve been your captain.”

“To think I lost such great honor.” He sighs deeply and then can’t help but mirror your faint smile before he focuses back on his breakfast, sliding his eyes to your empty space on the table. “You should eat,” he mutters with food in his mouth, “you’ve been skipping breakfast too much already.”

You sigh and roll out “I will,” slowly before you rest your head on your other hand.

“And don’t be giving it to Sasha,” he continues to scold you “and pretend you ate it either.”

“I will,” you repeat a bit more sharply; knowing that he wouldn't be the only one nagging you about missed meals anymore. You knew you had other sets of eyes watching you now too—“so,” you continue to change the subject. “How was your first night as a Scout, Hmm?”

“Right now it feels just like when I was a Cadet.” He shares, “it doesn’t feel any different and I don’t suspect it will until our first expedition.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Jeans eyes leave your slouched figure in front of him and catches the tall blonde walking your way. “Reiner is coming this way.” He tells you as he looks back at his plate.

You lift your head from your hand and straighten out your posture, trying to fight the temptation not to look at him over your shoulder and instead keeping your focus on Jean. “Quick, how do I look?”

“Like you’ve been lacking sleep for sixteen years.” He remarks, causing you to shoot him an icy glare before he continues to toruture you. “Now is your chance to tell him how you feel.”

You laugh nervously and shake your head. “Are you crazy? No.”

“You know he likes you,” Jean points out, “what’s the worst thing that can happen?”

“Uh, he can hear me.” You spat out. “And I embarrass myself.” You peek over your shoulder and feel your heart clench in your chest. “How about this,” you continue as you look back at Jean. “You tell Mikasa how you feel and I tell Reiner how I feel, yeah?”

Before Jean could answer, the man you had been talking about comes and sits beside you, sliding a plate of hot breakfast to you as he also puts down his own. “Thought you were running on an empty stomach.” He tells you, “you should eat. Wouldn’t want you passing out in the middle of training.”

You fully turn your head to the side and smile shyly, pulling your plate closer to you and sharing a quick lingering look with Reiner. “Thank you,” you mutter, tearing your gaze away as you caught Bertholdt sitting next to Reiner, noticing as you were looking back at your food that Jean was trying hard not to laugh at you. You ignore him however and hesitantly take a bite out of the breakfast Reiner brought you, swallowing before briefly glancing at Reiner and Bertholdt to address your concerned question to them. “How are you guys doing?”

“Well,” Reiner sighs, “the past couple days have really been something, but we’ll pull through. We always have.”

“Yeah,” Bertholdt agrees as his eyes leave Reiner and turn to you. “Reiner is right. You don’t have to worry about us, y/n. How are you?”

You shrug. “I’ll be alright.” You look at your food and take in another small spoonful, letting Jean's comment about Reiner echo in your mind, but nothing else beside that before your train of thought was interrupted as Connie, Sasha, Ymir, Krista, Mikasa, Armin and Eren sat at the same table. They all had their breakfasts and a more lighthearted look on their faces than the ones they carried yesterday. Sasha especially, as she seemed to be angsty to talk to you as she sat at your side and didn’t hesitate to address you.

“So y/n, is y/n your real name? Or is it Cherry?”

You lift your eyes from your plate and slowly slide them to Sasha, noticing that all of your friends' eyes were intently on you. “It’s y/n. Cherry is just something that Levi and some of the Scouts call me.”

“Why?” Krista probes.

“Well Levi does because,” your mind wanders to the story he had told you about the nickname, and you decide it’s too long to tell them at the moment. “Well it’s a long story, but Cherry is something he called me, and the scouts, well, when I came here, I introduced myself with my nickname, so it stuck.”

“Oh well you’re lucky,” Sasha continues with a goofy smile. “You’re nicknamed after a fruit!” Her brown eyes glow with excitement as she grabs your arm a little too tightly. “Can I call you Cherry from now on?”

“Uh, sure.” You shrug nonchalantly, looking at Krista as she also continued speaking.

“That’s such a sweet name, can I call you that too?”

“Go ahead.” You answer, knowing that you couldn’t be rude and say no.

“Hey,” Eren chimed in, “Hange said that the reason Levi calls you that is because you were...”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly cut off Eren, shooting him a warning glare before you avoid all the curious stares and begin eating again.

“Tell us what you heard, Eren.” Ymir commented smugly, shooting you a taunting look that you felt burning into your skull. “You can’t leave us hanging now.”

Again you tear your gaze away from your food and shoot Eren a cold warning look that he took as a sign to just be quiet and ignore Ymir instead. She kept pestering him, like Connie and Sasha did too, but he didn’t give in. The stare you shot him engraved into his head and scared him from saying the rest, whilst also reminding him too much of his captain's chilling look. That, or well the sight of Levi passing by you to place a cup of tea by your plate just made him avoid the subject completely. So instead he just let the conversation change before you all had to go to your class.

A class that was the same each day for a month straight; boring as you had to remember your maps and important positions for the expedition.

All until you only had the choice but try to recall it by pure memory as the day of the expedition finally rolled around.

“The 57th expedition outside the wall begins now!” Erwin's voice booms from the front of the formation, everyone not letting themselves fall behind, nor trying to focus on the Titans that already threatened your lives, instead letting the support squad do their work while you all rode ahead; luckily enough everyone making it out of the town alive and riding further out the wall.

Something that still felt so surreal to you. Even if where you were, was still considered being inside the walls. Nonetheless, it felt like a rush of both excitement and fear. Mainly fear. Because now you were on your own. Literally parting away from the formation on your own (not really), but as Erwin signalled for the long range scouting, your friends weren’t going to be by your side anymore, you were with your own squad, riding in the right flank with the search squad.

What damn luck. On my first expedition too.

The only reason you got put there is to be their messenger and shoot the needed flares. You weren’t to make contact with any Titans unless extremely necessary. Which was disappointing, yet relieving. And the more you thought of it, of what you were supposed to do, the memory of a lesson came to mind as you rode along your squad. “It will be mainly the search squads in the first column that will have contact with Titans. When they find a Titan, they will fire a red smoke flare. When a soldier sees a flare he relays the message in the same way. Using the flares to confirm the Titans location the commander will fire a green flare and indicate in which direction everyone will proceed. In this way everyone can avoid contact with Titans. However there will be instances due to the lay of the land or obstructions when a Titan will be found too late and is already inside the formation....”

“Y/N, shoot a right flare for that short ugly Titan approaching the right corner.” Your squad leader orders, causing you to look in the direction of the small Titan approaching, lifting your flare and shooting out a red flare whilst you cover your ear from the loud boom. Since it was small, the squad chose to leave it be and instead move away as the formation moved slightly.

“...Our past measures have worked only on the relatively easy-to-predict “ordinary” types. The variants, with their unpredictable behavior, are the only ones that demand engagement!”

“I hear you’ve already killed two Titans as a cadet?! That’s impressive!” Your squad leader exclaims her comment at you.

You nod stiffly and briefly glance at her before you refocus on the incoming land. “Yes, I have, but it wasn’t an easy task, nor was it alone!” Again you glance her way and notice this time her brown eyes were searching the area. Yet she still found a way to multitask.

“Two is still two.” She assures you, her eyes following yours as you watched a flock of birds rapidly fly from their tree and caw sharply as they flew past you. It wasn’t a sight to gawk over, or really think much of, but still your hands tightened around your horse's reins and your eyes narrowed ahead. You continued to ride in a careful silence, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand and chills run down your spine. Again you didn’t think much of that either.

But it was in that moment, the seconds after, where two Titans began to come after you, breaking apart from one another and aiming for both sides of your squad, their arms out ready to swing at you beneath them. However you all were smarter, you sped up and rode to the left side, pulling out your flare gun with your trembling hand and taking a red flare to shoot it into the sky—“good!” Your squad leader praised you, leading the way and pushing the horses to sprint away from the Titans faster.

Yet as you left those behind and moved with the formation, two more Titans came running, creating a dust cloud that covered the horde following after them.

“What the hell?” One of your squad members shouts as his eyes fixate on the horde all coming your way, picking up their pace as their eyes spotted their temptation, as if the sight of your approaching figures had set something off within them. “We can’t take them all! We’ll be caught up and only end up losing our own!”

Your eyes widen and your mind races with the thought that this is the most Titans you’ve seen clustered together. It almost looked like they were purposely baited together. It was off putting and made your heart race inside your chest...even more so as they began to break apart and target different spots of your squad, running faster as they did so. And regardless of their tactics you put a red flare in your gun and intended to shoot it as a couple of your comrades fought them to thin out their horde. But as your finger hovered over the trigger, you felt the ground tremble, and spotted more birds quickly fly away as if in a panic.

When you tried to figure out what felt wrong, suddenly another large horde came running your way, this time getting led by a taller Titan, a blonde one with features of a female, blue eyes and a glare that made goosebumps grow all over your body. Unlike the Titans it led, this one seemed to be on a mission, she ran like a human would and let the horde run past her as she stopped in her spot briefly. Her eyes appearing to watch over the chaos she delivered, and her expression painted as if she were thinking.

She let the horde infest and overwhelm your squad. While she left you all stunned and speechless, frozen as you had never seen an abnormal like her. Or they hadn’t. She reminded you of Eren's Titan. From what you could take note, she acted like him; in the manner they were both intelligent and in control—“This-this one is an abnormal,” your squad leader stammered as she tried to lead what was left of her squad from being caught by swinging hands. “Shoot out the black flare, y/n! We can’t let this one into the formation!”

You nod slowly, trying to guide your horse from the approaching threats, whilst you also struggled to pull out the black flare, feeling the canister almost slip from your fingers before you gripped onto it and then struggled to push it in the gun. From the corner of your eye seeing a red flare fly into the sky. Knowing that the signal was going to move the formation, even if you all had to lag behind to thin out the horde that was more trouble than any of you suspected. You still had to deal with the abnormal Female Titan that continued to prove your theory right.

Your squad leader began to go after her and the Female Titan reacted within seconds, snapping her eyes to your leader and surprising you even more as she reacted by bolting towards her. At the last second though, the Female Titan turned sharply on her heels and headed for the formation, only causing the reaction on your face to deepen as your eyes peeled back further, and your eyebrows pinched together. Regardless of your reaction albeit, this time you were aware, you broke from your stupor as your squad leader looked over her shoulder to shout out the same instruction as before.

This time you raised your hand and shot the black flare, hastily shoving the flare gun back in your pocket as you kept your attention on your squad leader approaching the Female Titan; hearing the cries in the chaos that was brewing from the scene you were leaving, hearing Titans jaws snapping, and bones cracking as you tried your best to follow the instructions given to you. It was a crude thing to do, evil; it made your stomach churn and your heart drop, but you had to keep riding along. They kept reminding that to you. They told you to run to inform the Commander of what rose in battle.

But as you begin to split away, your eyes slide to your squad leader shooting her grapples at the Female Titans body, and a sharp gasp leaves your lips the moment she flies in to swing at the Titans nape, and she swiftly swings her hand back to capture your leader in her grasp. She continues to peek over her shoulder, almost as if she was taunting those couple of soldiers after her before she gave an effortless squeeze that instantly killed your squad leader. Leaving behind only a gruesome mess that she dropped before she looked away and bolted away. Leaving you stunned and petrified on your horse.

At the back of your head you could feel yourself registering the fact that more comrades tried to chase after her, but you couldn’t act on any plan. Your mind came up blank as the brutal scene continued to play out ahead of you. All you could do was watch as the Female Titan evilly played with your comrades; swatting them away and stomping one into unrecognizable pieces and a thick pool of blood.

When you could snap from your speechless state was when a blood-curdling scream beside you rang in your ears, snapping your attention to the side to see a Titan bite down on a comrade and another swing at you, barely letting you swerve away.

“Shit,” you hiss sharply, accidentally stumbling back to where the chaos had brewed and being directly behind the Female Titan’s path. You tried to guide your horse back to your previous path, but as your Horse tries to ride back, from the thick of some trees a Titan jumped out ahead of you. Blossom jolted and skidded to a hard stop, crying out as she stood on her twos and fumbled back before she fell back down on all fours. You tried to calm her down as well yourself, “it’s okay, Blossom, it’s okay girl, I won’t let it grab you. I’m here.”

Albeit the moment you tried to run away, another Titan wasted no time to lunge at you from behind. It’s jaw missing your horse and you by an inch, and instead crashing into the Titan in front of you—Fuck yeah—a smirk tugs on your lips as you watch the smoke rise from their clashed bodies over your shoulder. But the moment was brief, because when you turn away and look ahead, the body of a dead comrade comes hurdling your way. You yanked at the reins to make your horse move away, but the body had been thrown too fast and crashed into your horse, making her cry out in pain as she fell forward and threw you off her back to harshly roll on the ground.

When you come to a hard stop, you feel your body crash onto something hot and wet, you pay no mind to it, just think it’s some Titan remains you saw a now dead Comrade kill. Instead your eyes flutter open, welcoming in the brightness, but instantly feeling them sting and noticing your vision was slightly blurry after the impact—concussion maybe? Nevertheless, regardless of your symptoms, you continue to try to push yourself to your hands and knees, feeling your palms slip on something thick and wet. You blink a few times to clear your vision, wasting no time on looking at the sky above and instead dropping your gaze to identify what was under your hands. Albeit instantly freezing as you recognize the thick crimson pool of blood and the gruesome body parts of a dead body under you.

It took a moment for your head to react as you kept your eyes glued to what was underneath, but once you blinked again, you quickly reeled back onto the clean grass. Feeling yourself pant and cry before your breakfast ran up your throat and escaped from your mouth. You gagged more violently, but your stomach just jerked as nothing came out but air, leaving you to finally wipe tears away and suck in air.

When you remembered to breathe out, whilst thoughts in your mind raced at a speed that you couldn’t keep up with. You could feel your body pushing itself to its feet and you could see your bloodied clothes as your eyes roamed down your body, but that was it. Every other feeling was absent, time only seemed to slow down around you. You knew you were looking for your horse, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead you saw Titans in her place, coming at you from all sides, surrounding you and causing reality to slap you in the face and return everything back to its normal pace.

“Fuck,” you breathe out rapidly, “fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” You quickly move your hands to pull your blades out, eyeing all four Titans that were surrounding you, trying to see if there was a horse, or anyone who could help you at least create a gap to escape. But as you switched from side to side, all you saw was red painted on the ground. No living souls left to help. Of course you could try to create a gap of your own, there were enough bodies for you to hook your grapples onto, but it would all be useless without a horse to use to leave. You were completely and utterly rendered isolated, with only two blades to think of your salvation. To keep your hopes up.

But that hope was burned away the moment the Titans shadows casted over your body, and the sounds of their running mouths echoed in your ears and pulled you back to that disoriented state you fell under after you saw what you had crashed onto. You could see the Titans hands stretch out to try and grab you off the floor, you noticed their jaws open to show off their sets of teeth and slippery tongues in slow motion as time seemed to slow down around you; as the knowledge of your life coming to a brutal end invaded every single thought, numbing every single muscle in your body and drying your mouth and eyes so no tears rolled down your cheeks.

And perhaps the no tears part was half of your mind accepting death. It was on your first expedition, but who were you to fight fate? At least now you could reunite with Marco, Furlan and Isabel. That beautiful thought made you smile to yourself, made death something easier to accept. After all you had lived longer than you anticipated...Levi would miss you...hopefully. That was one thing that rattled your soul, but...hey, you would be with the family you had both lost, he could rejoice in that fact.

When he didn’t see me return and join what was left of the Scouts, would he wait for my hopeful return? Would he be angry when he figured out I was one of the fatalities? That I had broken my promise to stay alive? Your mind fell silent and you blinked away from the Titans to look at the blue sky and passing clouds. I’m sorry.

You draw in a deep breath and ignore the stench of death that filled the air and instead you focus on the slight smell of grass and sweet fresh air. Death wasn’t something you wanted, not like this...you always wanted it to be after a long fruitful life, outside between the trees and under the sky. But this, well this had to do, right? At least you weren’t in the dark, or underground. At least you were under the sky….Hmm, it is a beautiful day—you continue to close your eyes and let out a slow shaky breath. Expecting to picture Isabel's red hair and bright eyes, Furlans smug but yet sweet look, and or Marcos' goofy grin. But someone else completely comes to mind. Levi. A memory of him plays vividly in your head. A specific memory. Almost as if it was purposely chosen to show you.

“You have to fight, you can’t die,” you heard him whisper to your fragile and sick body, feeling as if his voice was hundreds of miles away, but still clear. “Not like this.You still have a lot to live for…” his eyes looked to the clear sky out the window and he sighed before returning his eyes back to you. “...and you still have a lot to discover,” he continued as he grabbed your hand from the bed. “I know that I may not be like Furlan or Isabel, but I promise I'll try, I won’t leave you. I’m still going to look after you, I’ll listen to your stories, I always do, I’ll read through all your findings, I’ll try to do as much as I can do with you. Just fight for me, y/n, please. I want you to live a long life, to experience everything life has to offer you with no regrets. Just survive. You can’t die. Don’t die. Fight and survive. Fight and survive....”

As Levi’s words echoed all over your head and the memory faded, something else sparked within you, electrifying your mind like if a bolt of lightning had suddenly struck your brain. It almost felt like an adrenaline rush had flooded your entire body, but it felt much, much stronger. You could feel much stronger and much more aware. Your eyes suddenly flew open and you drew in a sharp breath that filled your lungs with a relief that you felt after you resurfaced from the water. Every color that surrounded you was much more vivid, everything your eyes saw was much sharper; to the shortest distance and to the farthest. Something unfolded within you.

Suddenly every thought of death turned to the will to fight. Suddenly blood rushed through your numbed limbs, causing you to dig your heels into the dirt and fortify your grip around your handles. Time was slow, but it was different, you could feel your eyes snap to every location, spot every single movement; from the flapping leaves, to the flowing grass blades, the floating clouds and approaching Titan hands. Your mind instantly came up with an instant plan to escape your current dilemma. And before you knew it, you were shooting your grapple hooks and moving like lightning, faster than you ever have in your years of using ODM gear

One moment you were on the ground, ready to die, the next you were swinging under a Titans arm, swirling around the moment you unhooked your grapples to then shoot them again, and spin directly at the Titans nape. You jumped off their falling body to continue the same process with the others, feeling an instinct guide you, a sense knowing exactly what to do pump through your blood. It was like a rush. Something new and much more than an adrenaline rush. You felt yourself fly around like the wind.

It felt odd moving so fast, you could hardly understand it, hardly control your own speed, but you were grateful for it as it helped you take down the Titans that had once threatened your life. Now, you just watched their bodies slowly evaporate away and leave behind only thick white smoke before you let yourself fall back to the ground in the middle of where their bodies lay to slowly take in what you had done.

It was unbelievable, but there was no one else around for you to make excuses that it wasn’t you—yet you still couldn’t believe it. You looked down at your hands as if that was going to give you reassurance to what had happened, you looked at the sky and found reassurance in the fact that you were alive. You rejoiced in that fact for a brief moment before you were reminded why your life was put at such high risk, why your whole squad was now dead.

She.

It.

The Female Titan was at fault. It was all her fault. She played with your comrades as if they were toys, she brought hordes of Titans that killed your comrades, she was the reason you almost died. Now, you needed to kill her.

You stepped away from the Titans thick smoke their decaying bodies produced and searched for your horse, you called for her, but nothing, luckily another horse heard your call. That was better than nothing. “Good horse,” you praise it as you climb onto it and gently pat their side, giving the chaotic and bloodied scene one last look before you tell them to go.

Needless to say you were riding fast and in rage, focusing on that single mission, and luckily not running into more Titans on your way after the Female Titan. You may not know exactly where she was headed, but you had a rough idea; she seemed to be dead set on chasing the formation, she appeared to be after something, or someone, she—suddenly you lose your previous train of thought and a new thought sparks in your mind. One that causes you to slap your hand on your mouth and run your hand down your face.

Of course. Of fucking course. It can’t be just a coincidence that suddenly another intelligent Titan like Erens appeared out of thin air, after not showing any sign of herself before. And of course she appeared after Eren was announced to be a Titan shifter. She’s most likely after him!

You smile proudly to yourself and release a held in breath—sometimes I truly do surprise myself. Wow.

With a bit more resolve, you focus back on your path ahead, dropping your smile instantaneously and fueling with pulsing rage as you caught sight of the Female Titan.

She was on her knee, and her hand was covering her nape, while her eyes appeared to be focused on something. It was hard to notice what with your rage and your own goal in mind, but the moment you pushed yourself on top of your horse and shot your grapples at the tree beside her to hop off your horse, and press on the gas to fly directly at her, you heard and saw who it was that was keeping her busy. “Y/N?!” Jean shouted.

Your eyes briefly glanced at him beside another tree, before they shifted to Armin at her other side a few feet away, and lastly at Reiner below you riding on his horse. His own eyes watching you fly overhead.

Your lips tugged into a smirk and you continued on, releasing your hooks and letting yourself fall towards the ground as The Female Titan swung her hand at you, missing your body and trying to catch a glimpse of you as you flashed forward and hooked your grapples onto the ground a few feet away. You used the stable ground to flip in the sky and be facing her, using your fingers to press on your gas to hastily fly towards her in a blinding rage that made your figure appear like a gust of wind, or a flash of light as you faked going for her nape and instead stabbed your blades on her shoulder and circled your blades around them to weaken her limb. You flew past her and let your body fall forward before you hooked your grabbles on the tree beside Jean, letting your heels scrape the dirt before you pressed on the gas to throw yourself to the sky and flip around in the air and repeat the process with her other shoulder.

In the heat of the moment you didn’t even focus on the three boys that you were now with, your anger raged and blinded you, your newfound strength and speed kept you busy as you tried to control it properly. The Female Titan kept your mind locked on killing her, and you were close; after weakening both arms, watching as they flopped down, you aligned yourself at a perfect spot where you could swing your blades over her nape. Only as you spun forward, and lifted your blades to slash her nape; the moment you let out a frustrated scream, and felt your blades make contact with her flesh, instead of cutting her nape and killing her, your blades suddenly broke as the tips reached the middle of her nape.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight and your lips parted in a stunned surprise. “What the hell?!” You look back at her nape before blinking to look back at your broken blades, “what just happened?” Once again you look back at the Female Titan and instead of landing on the ground, your gaze narrows on her and you swiftly flip around to again fly towards her. “No matter,” you sneer whilst you hook your grapples onto the ground beside her. “I’ll finish you.” Instead of going to her nape, first you try to take out her eyes. It was a smart plan, but you didn’t catch the fact that she had healed an arm, you didn’t see her lifting her hand to attempt to grab you from the air. It could’ve been a foolish outcome, but you were saved.

Suddenly, the moment you unhook your grapples and try to press on the gas, you feel another body collide onto yours. They push you out of the way and have you stabbing your blades onto the ground so you could slide back and come to a stop without hitting the ground roughly. Again. And the moment you did stop, you snapped your eyes to where you had been shoved away from, and notice that it had been Reiner who had saved you from being crushed.

His eyes find yours for a brief second to share a short lingering before he tries to kill the Female Titan himself. Only just like she failed to do with you, she successfully grabbed Reiner in her grip. Causing you to drop your blades so you could jump to your feet and cry out his name as you saw her thumb crush his body in her fist. “No! Reiner!”

No. No.

You stepped forward mindlessly and clenched your fist around your handles. You waited, or really you were so stunned that you didn’t know how to truly react. All you felt was your heart sink to your stomach and your breath trap in your lungs.

The moment you could react and were going to try and get revenge for Reiner. Said man suddenly and impressively spun out of the Female Titans fist—“yes,” you grin slowly, watching in awe as he safely landed on the ground.

Nevertheless you couldn’t express such emotion because Jean suddenly grabbed your hand and began pulling you forward with the rest of the group. Leaving behind the Female Titan.

“I think we bought enough time!” Reiner exclaimed to all of you, causing you to look at the Female Titan over your shoulder after you let go of Jean's hand. “Hurry and let’s put some distance from this one! It won’t come after us unless it’s a cannibal!”

Just like Reiner had mentioned, the Female Titan went the other way, letting all of you run away. “Look at that!” You point out, causing Reiner to follow your line of vision and add more comments after you.

“The giant bimbo’s scared and going home.”

Only that didn't feel right. But you didn’t have a chance to point that out as Reiner pointed out the skills you demonstrated moments ago. “Hey, y/n what was that?! Where the hell have you been hiding that skill?! You were impressive!”

“That’s right, I noticed that too, you’ve never shown skill like that before.” Armin interjected from under Reiner's arm.

“You were moving like Mikasa and Captain Levi. What was that?” Jean chimed in too.

Your eyes turned to the boys and their curious stares, before you looked back at the horizon ahead and shrugged cluessely. “I...don’t know.”

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @expectoscamander , @greenygreenland @that-soft-lesbian-friend , @dai-tsukki-desu @usernamehere91 , @avocadopoosae

[loyalshipper]

May I introduce the Tumblr DC community to one of my two favorite Batfam AUs I have created. Bruce Wayne owns a hotel/museum near an ocean cliff and still has a chronic adoption problem but doesn’t fight crime. (If anyone writes this you can make it to where heroes still exist, the Batfam are the inly no capes)

WE still exists but it isn’t run by Bruce it is run by Lucius because back in the 60s Thomas and Martha bought the hotel and wanted that to be their legacy. They still die the same way but Bruce puts all his efforts into running and blossoming the hotel which was his parent’s dream project.

I’ll get back into the hotel in a minute I’m taking about the kids now

Dick is gotten a similar way, he visits the Cape with Haly’s Circus, his parents die because of faulty wiring sold to the circus by Zucco and Dick becomes an orphan. Bruce just so happened to use his one night off in a while to go see the circus. He keeps thinking about Dick and ends up adopting him. He helps Dick and the Circus bring Zucco to justice and sues the hell out of him and shuts down his business. (Adopted at 8))

Jason was found living in one of the shut down rooms of the hotel. Because his dad left and was in prison and his mom od. So Bruce treats him like a wild animal and starts to leave food out on a regular schedule until Jason gets comfortable with him and he adopts Jason. (five years younger than Dick)

Tim was the son of two wealthy archaeologists who were gone 11 out of the 12 months. Bruce met Tim because he liked to come into the museum and take pictures of the museum exhibits and hotel architecture and shoreline which he would develop and give copies to Bruce. So he opens his house to this little boy with a penchant for photography. Until one day Tim’e parents call Tim telling him that they are staying in Egypt permanently because the archeological dig is producing wonderous results and they’ll be hiring him an around the clock sitter. Only for Tim to wait three weeks and no one shows up. They went so far as to fire Ms. Mac but never hired a sitter for their son. So he goes to Bruce in tears and explains everything, because this is it-his parents finally did abandon him, and Bruce sues them for custody of Tim. (Three years younger than Jason, adopted at 7)

Damian was the result of a relationship Bruce had in college while studying hotel management and hospitality. Talia is the daughter of a hotel conglomerate owner who is currently trying to buy Bruce’s hotel so it can be torn down and Ra’s can built a new hyper expensive hotel in its place. Damian was sent to live with Bruce to try and get Bruce to have Damian inherit the hotel so Ra’s can get it and destroy it, but that backfired because instead Damian falls in love with the hotel and his new family (reluctantly) and wants to see the hotel and museum flourish, not tear down this historical piece of architecture to replace it with a soulless hotel only available to the wealthy elite. But something available to everyone that families vacation to because there is so much history and beauty in a thing that has stood for centuries. So Damian turns against Ra’s. Due not that while Damian and Tim do have a sibling rivalry it is not as vicious and cutting as it is in canon. They love each other they just don’t mesh well while in the same room. And yes, Damian still has his variety of pets (7 years younger than Tim)

Cass came to the hotel with her “father,” David Cain, who went to the Cape for business, and just ended up leaving and forgetting Cass at the hotel. He was still abusive and Cass had trouble speaking but he wasn’t “turn Cass into the world’s greatest assassin” abusive. After Bruce finds Cass, he sues Cain for parental custody and then ruins his life unrepentantly. (Couple of months older than Jason)

After Martha and Thomas died, Alfred took over managing the hotel while Bruce was still growing up and while he was getting his degrees, now he is the grandfather to Bruce’s many kids and helps to keep them running and cared for while they run and care for the hotel. He’s also the one that helps the new kids transfer into the life of running a hotel.

Barbara is the daughter of the Police Comissioner still who became friends with Dick and works, first part time at the museum/hotel and then full time. Same with Steph and Tim (1 year older than Dick)

Cullen and Harper work at the museum, Helena works at the hotel. Carrie does both. Duke is the newest acquisition. Only, his parents disappeared and no one has been able to find them yet. So Bruce currently had temporary custody of Duke who lives at the hotel with everyone. (Harper is a year older than Tim, Cullen is a year younger than Tim, Carrie is the same age as Jason, Duke is a few months younger than Tim)

Each person has different jobs. (Dick is concierge/check-in, Jason does guided history tours of the hotel/museum/grounds, Tim works in financials because he deals with the least amount of people, Helena, Carrie and Steph are both maids, Carrie also does janitorial stuff with Cullen, Barbara works hotel check-in with Dick, Barbara and Harper work cashier at the gift shop, Duke doesn’t have a job yet because he is still dealing with the disappearance of his parents, Damian does every job to see where he fits in best.

JARRO IS THE FAMILY PET STARFISH THAT TIM ADOPTED WHEN HE FIRST JOINED THE FAMILY AND RESCUED FROM BEING EATEN OFF THE BEACH

The hotel is still fully staffed with not-batkids, like grounds keepers and other hotel cleaners and janitors.

Location time!

I’m turning Gotham nicer and changing the geography of the city.

The hotel Museum rests about 200 yds from a cliff that overlooks a beach. There is a well maintained stair case put into the cliff for people to walk down, as well as a longer gravel path that follows the cliff edge down to the shoreline. It is frequented by seals, sea lions, and in the distance, dolphins and whales. The hotel it’s self has about 100 or so acres of land and a long drive but it is technically within walking distance to the city. And it’s a normal coastal town with a port and touristic areas. Kinda eerie at night when the fog rolls in but that’s part of the charm of the NorthEast.

Selina is just Bruce’s friend in this. She is Helena’s mother and Bruce was a surrogate for her. She decided she wanted a baby and Bruce offered to be a donor. So Selina had Helena and Bruce is part of her life but not as her dad, which was the agreement. Selina takes care of the stray animals on the grounds and favors the cats.

Clark is a reporter that was tasked to right an article on the hotel and it’s history, became good friends with Bruce and brings his family (Lois, Jon, Bizarro, Kon, Kara, Lena, Chris, Ma, Pa, and Lex) on vacation to it every year. Lex and Clark are divorced husbands that left on good terms and are friendly enough to coparent their son, Connor, who was made the same way as canon but less hush hush and illegally, Kara is Clark’s cousin and Lena is her fiancée, Lois is his wife, Jon and Bizarro are their two biological sons (Bizarro has autism), Chris is their foster son. Bizarro latches onto Jason in a way that he hasn’t before and always loves coming to the hotel, Jon and Chris are best friends with Damian, Connor and Tim are long distance dating.

Collin, Maya, and Maps are Damian’s best friends from school (Damian has a crush on Collin) and he’s trying to convince them to join the hotel staff like his siblings’ friends but they are a) too young and b) not interested.

Roy has all of his problems as in canon and gets help for it, so as a way to try and bring the family closer, Oliver and Dinah arrange a vacation to the hotel for them Roy and Lian. As a stepping stone kind of thing. Get away from daily stress. Roy is resistant at first until he and Jason hit it off and start talking and Jason talks sense into him and they strike up a friendship turned romance.

The Flashfam visit the museum diring a countrywide roadtrip and mad the stop because Bart is a history buff and wouldn’t stop talking about it the entire trip. He becomes fast friends with Tim and is the only person to ever get a Tim Wayne history tour. No matter what Kon tells you he is super salty about it. Wally and Dick were internet friends and used the roadtrip as a way to be able to meet up.

Thad is the obligatory complainer who doesn’t want to stay in a musty old hotel.

Ivy is the main grounds keeper and is in charge of the native wildlife sanctuary most of the land is used for, as well as taking care of the native plantlife and lives in town with her girlfriend, Harley. Harley helps the kids prank Bruce.

Harley is a children’s psychiatrist hired by Bruce to help the kids deal with their various traumas. Her coming to the hotel for sessions is how she and Ivy met.

They started dating between Dick and Jason and Dick talks up each of them to the other, but each individual kid that comes in think they’d be cute together (since they are both professional while working there isn’t immediate proof that they are dating. But they will flirt with each other if they see each other) and it’s basically a right if passage to try and convince their siblings to help them get together and then try and set them up on their own and find out the hard way that they’re already together. They love seeing all the different way the kids try and set them up. They tend to go along with it until either the kids realise or they take pity on them.

Their favorite was Damian’s where he set up an entire romantic dinner at the hotel restaurant and Dick managed to slyly convince him to set it on a certain day that turned out to be Harley and Ivy’s anniversary.

Alfred is the head chef for the hotel, making room service meals and the breakfast buffet line up. Jason will help him out if he isn’t busy with other things.

Victor Fries and his wife hold an ice cream social ever summer at the hotel with all the ice cream flavors they came up with over the last year.

Edward Nygma, famous escape room designer, is hired to make an escape room themed on the hotel and museum that is built on the grounds near the main building.

Another ritual that starts, begins with Tim, where the older siblings convince the newest one that the hotel is haunted and Jason takes them on a “haunted ghost tour” of the abandoned part of the hotel (the part that is too dilapidated and run down to remodel safely) while the others are stationed at different parts of the hotel and grounds to run whatever scenario to scare the new kid. The only one that hasn’t been done to is Cass because even after several years she still jumps a little too hard at loud noises. But one time Jason accident closed a door a little too harshly while Cass and Tim were doing something and it caused her to jump so hard she knocked over Tim and started crying. They were contemplating whether she was strong enough to do it or not and that cemented that she wasn’t.

Tim and Cass are nearly inseparable and are commonly referred to as the Wayne Twins. For Halloween they decided to go as each other.

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Playing House Part 3 (Humor, Romance), Rated T. Full on Sylki hijinks, as promised!

Masterlist of my Sylki fanfics here.

---

The first thing she does when Thor leaves is Google herself. Apparently, she was a child actor and made a fortune there, before transitioning into modelling, and later into a successful influencing career.

"That makes perfect sense to me", Loki comments. "If I was not a prince, I would have chosen to be an actor too. Just imagine, legions of fans screaming your name, begging for your attention for just one moment, hanging onto your every word, willing to worship the very ground you walk on. Now, that is the dream." He pauses, cherishing the image in his head. "There's also the money. Looks like you and I will never have to work a day in our lives. We can just live off your money."

[[MORE]]

Sylvie feels the muscles in her laws instinctively tense. This is not her life, or her reality. She can't imagine spending eternity here. She looks at Loki sternly. "We can not. We have to return to the TVA."

"Yes, of course." He agrees immediately. A part of him likes this life. But another part of him knows there is never a gain without a loss. The universe finds a way to make him pay for every bit of happiness he ever gets. Who knows what the price may be if he chooses to stay, with his family, and with Sylvie right here?

Sylvie sets down the laptop on the bedside table, ignoring the danger of Loki's glass being knocked over and drenching it. She cannot let herself be concerned with such simple things. Ignoring them is the surest way to covince herself she hates it here. "I was wondering, if Thor can get into this town, and if he remembers us leaving this town in the past, does it mean we are free to leave?"

Loki studies her features, the resolute glint in her eyes and the defiant stance of her chin. It is clear that she will stop at nothing to get back to the TVA. "We should test it out." He says, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Maybe we can go to Oklahoma? See my supposed parents?" She attempts to play it off like it's nothing, even though she knows exactly what it means- temptation. The urge to see what this life looks like is ever-growing.

"Why can't we go to Asgard and see my parents instead?" He counters immediately.

Sylvie purses her lips, trying not to reveal her emotions. She doesn't remember her Odin or Frigga at all. A part of her longs to meet this version of them, but another part wonders how overwhelming it would feel, watching Loki occupy her place, have her life, her "parents" in this timeline. "Fine. How about we pick a neutral location first?"

"Fine." He replies curtly.

"Fine!" Her irritation escalates. She grabs the laptop again, opening up a tab to a travel website, ready to book a flight.

"LA?" He suggests.

"You just want the paparazzi attention, don't you?" She points out, but doesn't resist. "Alright."

September 1st. The date is set. They will be off to LA within three days, and if whatever being that has placed them here does not want them to leave, they will know by then.

---

"Do you really need all of these sunglasses?" Sylvie asks, after Loki stashes the fifth one in his backpack.

"Of course, I do." He defends. "Style? Remember?"

"Travelling light, remember?" She hits back, taking out two random pairs and throwing them back on her dresser. "Just take what you absolutely need."

"I absolutely need my sunglasses." He says stubbornly.

She can either give in on this trivial matter, or she can dig her heels in and fight it out with him. A stupid pair of sunglasses is not worth the effort. "Fine." And in return, there's something that he has to compromise for her as well. "Only if you help me get my swords past security."

"With pleasure." He says with a grin, and with a wave of his hand, the newly arrived swords from eBay are magically cloaked.

Sylvie looks at her own luggage. She has never really owned anything. She jumped from one apocalypse to another, with only her life, and sometimes food supplies for a few days. It feels surreal to look at the clothes in her wardrobe now. The thought of carrying them with her feels even more foreign.

She looks at the tons of products on her dresser, skin creams, lotions, toners, cleansers and heaven knows what else. All the luxuries she never had.

All the luxuries she does not want.

"I'll just pack a change of clothes." She says finally.

"You don't want anything else?" He asks, surprised.

"These are just things, Loki." She explains. "They can be replaced. I have no attachment to them."

---

She regrets not booking first class. She has been on planes before, using crashing aircrafts as a temporary hideout spot to regroup when the TVA was on her tails. As a stowaway, she never realized just how annoying a plane journey can actually be.

Loki graciously offers her the window seat, noting her unease as soon as they board. She thanks him with a smile, and they nod in mutual understanding.

She stares out of the window, at the town that is supposedly her home, and for the first time ever, she feels a pang of homesickness for a place that is not Asgard. She has been here for just five days now, yet, the thought of sleeping in her own bed is so tempting.

Sylvie notices how she is thinking of the bed as her bed now, but tries not to dwell on it too much.

The plane takes off without incidence, and she dozes off quickly. When she wakes up, she notices a thin comforter wrapped around her shoulders. Turning to her side, she sees Loki sleeping as well, his mouth slightly agape. She snuggles close to him, suddenly needing the comfort of his warmth, and the woman on the aisle seat gives her a dirty look. There's a baby crying somewhere in the back, and what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. But all that fades away when she lays her head on his shoulder.

---

When the flight arrives at LAX, they are both a little scared to leave its comfort. They are about to find out if they are free to travel wherever they want, or whether the action had any consequence. Sylvie is the first to take a step out, and they are both relieved to see nothing happens. The baggage claim goes smoothly, though slowly, and they get a cab quickly. Sylvie hides her grin when she sees Loki put on his sunglasses.

"So we're here." He says, staring at Sylvie, while she stares out of the window.

She only hums in response.

"Is this your honeymoon?" The driver asks.

Loki laughs nervously. "No, no. We've been married for quite a long time. This is just... a vacation."

The driver recommends them a lot of tourist places. Sylvie tunes him out. This is just a test. She has no interest in touring LA. They have their return flight scheduled for the next day.

They check into their hotel room, and she plops down on the bed immediately. "It seems we are free to leave the town. Just not the reality, I suppose." She runs her hands over the silky sheets, amused. "I must say, whoever placed us here has taken every measure to make this prison comfortable."

Loki follows suit and takes a seat beside her. "I suppose that is indeed generous of him. Or her."

Sylvie turns to the side to look at him. "So how do we get out of here then? Got any plan?"

He shrugs. It's not like there's a book called What to do when you find yourself trapped in an alternate universe with your alternate self for Dummies. "Right now, the plan is to get some dinner, then some sleep. Then perhaps in the morning we can see a bit of LA?"

"You want to play tourist?" She asks in a neutral tone.

He replies in kind, testing the waters. "We are here already, and we have the time, so why not?"

"Okay." She replies, a little unsure, but not entirely opposed to the idea. The weariness of the journey starts taking its toll on her. She messages her temples with her fingertips. "Should we order room service?"

Loki contemplates for a moment. On the one hand, she looks really tired, and she could use a good night's sleep. On the other hand, she has been completely on edge and razor focused on the mission since they got in this mess. Well, since they met, actually, and probably for centuries before that. She could also use a bit of fun and relaxation.

With that in mind, he carefully voices his proposal. "I was thinking maybe we can go down to the restaurant and have a proper dinner."

Sylvie looks up, grinning mischievously. She's about to call his bluff. "What, like a date?" His deer-in-the-headlights reaction makes her laugh. "Calm down, I'm just teasing you."

---

It's not a date, but it kind of is. It's a four course meal and a fine bottle of champagne over candlelight, after all.

"Was it like this? Back at Asgard?" Sylvie wonders.

"Mostly. But Asgard was grand, elegant. This is..."

"A cheap replacement." She completes.

Loki smiles. "Precisely."

They talk about their Asgard bedrooms, the similarities and the differences between their safe haven in the palace. An hour passes swiftly.

"The wine is good." Sylvie comments, sipping on her first glass of wine, when the champagne is drained.

"Yes, quite good." Loki agrees, on his first glass as well.

The tiniest buzz starts to take root in him, and his mind wanders into the realm of possibilities, the future he can have, here and now. His eyes focus on the brighest object in front of him- Sylvie.

She feels her cheeks flush under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are just so..." He blinks. What is another word for Asgard's Sun when it disappears into the azure lakes? "Breathtaking"

Her lips curve into a shy smile. This is the beginning of the same foolishness he showed on the train in Lamentis-1 that almost got them killed. But right now, their life isn't in imminent danger. Right now, she is just amused. "Wow, you really can't hold your liquor, can you?"

"Of course I can. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard." He declares proudly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard the speech." She says it with a smile and an eye-roll. "We should get you upstairs."

He objects immediately. "But I'm not done yet."

"Oh, I think you're quite done." She beckons the nearest waiter. "Can we get the bill, please?"

He can still walk surprisingly well, but she holds his hand tightly, just in case he decides to take a detour, and drags him into the elevator.

"Blonde looks good on you." He comments out of the blue. "Maybe I should go blonde too."

She grins. "Like Thor?"

He glares at her. "You're a buzzkill."

---

Sylvie opens the door after fumbling with the keys for a minute. She is starting to feel the effect of the alcohol as well. She takes off her shoes and her earrings, while Loki runs to the loo.

"Why did you book a room for two?" He asks in a serious tone, leaning against the door-frame of the bathroom.

Sylvie freezes, her hand hanging mid-air for five uncomfortable seconds before she awkwardly drops it to her side.

Why did she book a room for two? She could have just rented separate rooms, or at least ones with separate beds. It's not like she and Loki are actually together.

But they have been. At least for the past few days. Why do they need separate rooms here when they share a bed back home?

Home. Sylvie realises with alarm that she's thinking of her prison as her home.

Is this reality starting to mess with her mind now?

"It's okay, I don't want to leave you either." Loki's voice pulls her out of her inner monologue. She turns around quickly in his direction. He's still drunk, and it shows, but he has a look on his face that she has never seen before- a mix of resolution and fondless. His eyes whisper silent vows of loyalty, and something else, something he can't quite express yet. "I will never leave you."

Sylvie smiles, closing the distance between them and standing next to him. Her hand finds his by sheer instinct. "Good to know."

"I mean it, Sylvie." He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, before he tugs her along with him as he sits down on the bed, unable to stand any longer in his inebriated state. She is grateful to be seated too, and she's unsure whether it is just the alcohol. "I know you hate it here. But I like this." He indicates at her, then at himself, then back at her. "I like falling asleep next to you, and walking into the kitchen first thing every morning to see you cursing at the microwave. I like how you hum in the shower and scream at the TV."

Sylvie listens quietly, her eyes focused on the feeling of his hand in hers. She is trying to memorize this moment, burn the shape of his fingers and the feel of his touch into her brain, so that when it's gone- when he is gone- like everything in her life always is, she will have another good memory to relive again and again.

Loki continues. "I like the way you burn the pasta every time you try to cook."

"I don't burn the whole dish." She retorts playfully. "Just the bottom part."

He shakes his head to show he disagrees. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Her heartbeat quickens. Is he going to confess that he has feelings for her?

Does he have feelings for her?

"Sure." She barely whispers back.

Loki double-checks. "Promise me that you will never tell yourself?"

She laughs softly. "I promise."

Loki tenses, suddenly looking sober. He lets go of her hand, to rest his by his side, his fingers clenched into a fist. Mastering all his courage, he finally speaks. "I don't want to leave. Ever. I like it here."

Sylvie looks away, suddenly needing air. Hearing Loki say that makes her feel irrationally angry. He promised to be on her side every step of the way, but the minute he finds a life he likes, he's ready to throw in the towel.

A part of the anger stems from the fact that she knows, a major reason he wants to stay is her, this life he has with her. Two Lokis on any other timeline will cause Nexus events. But here, they are free to be together. Timelines don't start branching off like a growing vine on timelapse video every time they touch. And he wants that. She knows this because he has all but said it with his words and his actions.

And because she wants it too. Damn it, she wants it so much. She is getting sucked into this reality, indeed.

But she knows she has to finish what she started- she owes it to herself, and to the people out there who need her help, who will be robbed of their lives if she doesn't stop whoever is doing this.

She wants to-

- But she can't.

"Loki, I-" she stops when she turns around to see he has already fallen asleep. Wordlessly, she wraps the comforter over his sleeping form, before crawling under it herself. Turning to her side, facing away from him, she wonders what's next for them.

[pedros-mustache-main]

the arrangement

summary: it is all clear and simple—until it isn’t.

word count: 6.6k+ 

warnings: sugar daddy relationship, age gap (john is ~35, reader is ~23), angst, language, innuendo, suggestive themes & moments (not 18+ but be mindful—probably more so than with anything i’ve written!)

a/n: for the sake of this fic, veronica et al. don’t exist. i refuse to write infidelity. okay i hope you enjoy because i am very upset about the cottagecore!brian fic that i wrote which was eaten unceremoniously by the monster living in this website. xoxo!

1986.

he doesn’t kiss you; you won’t let him. 

it’s all a part of the minutiae of your arrangement. he has his rules: a shower before and after—sometimes together, but mostly alone; meetings out of the public eye, normally his london flat; no contact with his colleagues. you have your rules: no outside arrangements with other women (or men, for all you care); no spur-of-the-moment visits; and above all, no kissing.

he can—and does—have a field day with the curves and contours of your body whenever he gets the chance. his mouth knows your skin well, and you’d like to think you know his in a similar fashion. you know what it feels like to be touched and held and loved by him, but his lips have never so much as brushed yours, and you intend to keep it that way. it’s just a quirk, a bothersome little thing you carry with you to all of your arrangements. kissing is too intimate and, though you’ve been more than intimate with john, there’s a line in the concrete you are unwilling to cross. he respects that, so the arrangement works.

you like him. he’s charming and intelligent, thoughtful when it matters. he never forgets a date despite his busy schedule, and he seems to anticipate your moods, knowing just when to spoil you a little extra to ease the pain of a ruined portrait or sour customer. he supports your art endeavors, though you are firm about him staying away from your studio apartment. like kissing, it’s too intimate, too personal. he pays the rent, though, and is admittedly happy when you confess he has inspired a piece or two.

still, he’s confounding. there’s a pervading sadness about his person, even when he’s laughing. it runs deep—that sadness—and you can’t pinpoint the origin. you suspect he must be lonely even though he’s one of the world’s foremost musicians. why else would he dote on you endlessly? why else would he throw his hard-earned money at the feet of a girl too young to be his proper lover and too guarded to ever give him the chance at something real?

not that he’s tried to move the arrangement to something deeper. he hasn’t. for that alone, you’re more than content to stay with him. you’ve had strings of other arrangements before, but never one that’s lasted this long. it always falls apart eventually—unmet expectations, dangerous feelings, the unfortunate death. a year and a half with john is a long time, and you��re surprised he’s not bored with you yet. you’re surprised you aren’t bored with him.

but truly, he is kind and well-off—physically and monetarily—and so long as he’s keen to have you around, you’ll stick around. you aren’t complaining. 

of all your arrangements, you like john richard deacon the most.

he’s been gone for some time, consumed by the magic tour and promoting the latest queen album. he’s tired, ready for a break, and when he calls you a week before his return, you can hear the shoulder-crushing weariness in his tone.

“i’m getting too old for this, [y/n],” he says. 

his sigh is heavy, and it gives you pause. you hold still, the paintbrush between your fingers suspended in midair. you twist on your stool in discomfort. though you know your role—and you play it splendidly—there’s always a flare of uncertainty in the back of your mind when john muses personal. 

you shift, cradling the telephone between your shoulder and your ear. “you’re only thirty-five, john,” you say after a moment. “hardly an old fart.”

“well, i feel one.” something crinkles over the line. “i think we’ll be on break for a good while after this. freddie is—” he sighs again. “when can i see you?”

you can’t help but smile. you dip your head to the side as you study the foot of the angel in your painting. there’s something not quite right, so you lift the corner of your smock and wipe away the top of her big toe. 

you like it when your men are eager; it means they still intend on supplementing your income and leaving you fine gifts. as soon as the eagerness begins to fade, as soon as the meetings are less and less frequent, you know it’s time to look elsewhere. nearly two years later and john is more eager for an evening with you now than he was at the start. you have nothing to worry about.

“when do you get back?”

“thursday.”

“then you can see me thursday.”

he exhales in something that sounds a lot like relief. you bite your lip to keep from smiling wider. he’s wrapped so tight around your pinky; neither of you seem to care. 

“good, good. i’ll bring you something from barcelona. what do you want?”

"hmm. surprise me.”

“you don’t like surprises.”

“you’re right. how about some of those fun little tiles? the colorful ones, y’know?” he hums in agreement. “i can put those in my kitchen.”

“tiles? my baby wants tiles?” he laughs, and you’re thankful for the thousands of miles between you. the affectionate term, spoken normally in jest, sends your thoughts straight to the gutter every time, loathe as you are to admit such a thing. “fine. tiles it is. see you thursday.”

“it’s a date, mr. deacon.” you pause then add, “get some rest, john. you sound knackered.”

“i am.”

“i’ll see you thursday, handsome.”

he says goodnight, wishes you sweet dreams, and hangs up. you drop the phone to its base and sit back, stretching your arms over your head.

the canvas before you is taller than it is wide—twenty-four by thirty-six. the customer, a repeater, requested something angelic and bright, a new addition to their marble villa in the south of greece. you’re happy to oblige, but you’re stuck on the bottom portion. should the angel be in flight? poised on a cliffside? in a garden? you know it doesn’t matter, that the buyer will be happy regardless, but it matters to you. each painting needs to tell a coherent story, and you like for that story to fit well with the piece’s ultimate home.

your mother says you are blessed with a gift by god. john says you have natural talent. you think you’re just good at copying. it’s not forgery; all of your paintings are as unique as they are original. still, you’re excellent at replicating dead-and-gone styles: renaissance, rococo, romantic, hell even the odd modern piece. whatever the customer wants, you can reproduce it for a fraction of the cost. your work pays handsomely, but averaging only one painting a year doesn’t pay all the bills that pile up on your kitchen island over the months. that’s where john comes in. it evens out in the end, with more than enough on the side to play with.

rising from your stool for a much needed break, you cross the concrete floor, the stone cool beneath your bare feet. the evening has gone drafty, so you shut one of the tall windows looking onto the side garden. you pick up your mail from beneath the flap on the front door and rifle through. nothing urgent, though there’s a letter from your mother. you tuck it to the side.

john would detest your studio if he ever saw it. it’s unfeeling, bare bones and vaulted ceilings and exposed beams. most of the open floor plan is used for your painting endeavors. there’s discarded portraits along the wall, a few untarnished canvases tucked in a corner. there’s a worktable that doubles as a kitchen table, and a cramped kitchen shoved beneath the loft which houses your bed and wardrobe. you don’t mind the gray walls and gray floors and metal and lack of personal touches. if anything, the simplicity allows your creativity to explode.

after a piece of jam and toast for supper, you return to your painting. the angel should be on a cliffside overlooking the sea, you decide; after all, her home will soon be greece. dipping your brush to the mixture of tan and dark brown you’ve been using for her skintone, you curl a leg beneath you and set to work. only this time, you struggle to keep the excited smile from your face.

john’s coming home. you missed the bastard—him and his money.

thursday evening you find yourself on john’s front stoop, fist poised to knock on the door. the dress beneath your coat is silky, like water against your skin. you feel underdressed for the turn of the season but you’re likely to be without clothing entirely within the hour so you grit your teeth against the chill on your legs. you clear your throat, adjust the curled ends of your hair, and knock on the door. the bottle of champagne in your hand grows heavy as you wait, and you finger the small string of diamonds around your neck. 

john inhales through his nose sharply when he opens the door. “[y/n],” he breathes before sweeping you into a tight embrace.

you laugh, crushed against his chest, your arms snug around his shoulder. he smells clean, like soap and fresh tea. you lift your legs, giggling further as he spins you about the rowhouse foyer.

“okay, okay!” you squeal. “put me down!”

he drops you to the floor, your heels clicking against the hardwood. “let me take your coat,” he says, sliding behind you to remove your outer layer. you shimmy out of the garment and bite you lip on a smirk when he sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

“like it?” you ask, twirling on the ball of your foot in a slow circle. your dress—pale pink, short and open in the back—leaves little to the imagination.

“you’re a sight for sore eyes, angel.” 

he steps away from the coatrack to circle his arms around your waist. he settles his hands in the curve of your spine and drinks you in, his pupils expanding with appreciation. you preen under his gaze and rest your palms on his brightly patterned shirt. you never tire of this—no matter who your benefactor is. the glazed look in their eye when they see you wearing a necklace newly bought or sporting a handbag of your choice or simply pushed against their strength is intoxicating. you feel powerful and desirable and unstoppable all at once.

“missed you.” john lifts a hand to brush a lock of hair away from your face, and the gesture is decidedly intimate. it sends a chill down your spine, your mouth tightening. you know if this were any other relationship he would bend forward and capture your lips, marking you as his and erasing the weeks apart with a single touch. you know he’s fighting the urge to do so now; you can see it in the way his eyes flick to your mouth and hold there.

to ease his yearning, you wind your arms around his neck and squeeze him tight, curling your fingers in the base of his recently trimmed perm. you like the fluff; it’s quirky—like him. “missed you, john.” you kiss the corner of his jaw and pull away, trailing to the kitchen.

he’s hot on your heels.

lifting your rump onto the kitchen island, you cross your ankles and grin as he enters the room. “did you bring me my tiles?” 

john blinks, as if he’s not sure what you’re talking about, but then recognition lights his eyes, and he snaps in remembrance. “ah yes, the tiles! hold on.” he slips into an adjoining room before returning with a brown box tied with a white ribbon. “here.”

you take the box, smile at him where he leans against the counter opposite you, and tear off the string. within the box there’s a small index card covered in john’s neat script. you lift it and meet his eyes again; there’s a faint blush on his cheeks as you read aloud.

“[y/n], i thought you deserved something better than a few titles. love, john.” lowering the card to your side, you push back the tissue paper to see a framed pencil sketch of a woman mid-gown fitting. the seamstress is crouched against the floor, her back to the viewer. the woman being fitted is twisted, glancing over her shoulder as the seamstress works, her reflection visible in an invisible mirror. you squint and push your nose to the corner then nearly drop the frame to the floor.

your head snaps up so fast it cracks. “john, you didn’t.”

he just beams, nodding.

tucked in the right hand corner of the sketch is the artist’s signature, a signature you know well. mary cassatt. 

“got it in paris,” he explains. “thought you could use an original from your favorite.”

you brush your fingertip along the signature and feel the sting of tears beneath your eyelids. of all the gifts you been handed—holidays in rome, designer bags and jewelry, luxury rides to and from the city—this, this, is the best. part of you hates the sudden rush of emotion that spreads through your chest, but you allow the feeling to take hold, opening your arms to him. he steps between your legs, and you curl yourself around his body.

“thank you, john,” you whisper. your voice is muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but the way he presses his hand against your shoulder blade tells you he heard you loud and clear. 

he hums against the crook of your neck. the vibrations tickle your throat, and you flush. you draw back, far enough to meet his gaze, but close enough to feel his breath against your face. 

god, you could kiss him.

the thought strikes you like a bolt of lightning, and you resist the urge to gasp. you’ve never thought it before; the rule of no kissing is ingrained in you so deep the mere idea of breaking it sends you for a loop. but there he is—generous and gorgeous and yours. he knows you well, spoils you well, and all he asks is you entertain him in return. 

how did you get to be so lucky?

clearing your throat, you brush past him to hop off the counter. you tug the hem of your dress down a smidgen and touch his shoulder. “want me to go shower?” you ask, cocking your head toward the bathroom.

he turns to face you and shakes his head. “no.” his arms are around you again, as if it pains him to keep his distance for a moment too long. you can feel it in the thrum of his heart against your ribcage. you swallow hard.

your brow pinches in a frown. “but you—”

his mouth is already tracing the lines of your neck, warm and wet and dizzying. he grips your hip, his fingertips pressing through the satin of your dress. “forget it, [y/n]. i’ve missed you,” he whispers, a tattoo on your skin. “come to bed.”

“but the sho—”

he pulls back and lifts a hand to grasp your chin. the touch is not angry, not possessive; it’s just firm. the words in your mouth dry up, and you meet his gaze with wide eyes. “i said forget it.”

you nod, mute.

his eyes lower to your mouth. his tongue darts out to swipe his lower lip.

he steps away, his fingers trailing down your arm until they circle your wrist. he leads you through the house, silent, until you reach the foot of his bed. moonlight washes through the open terrace doors. a misty rain drifts into the room, bringing with it a chill and a whisper of autumn.

you toe off your heels, run your finger down his grecian nose, over his straight jaw. there’s this feeling in your stomach, one you can’t quite place. it’s a mixture of contentment and nerves, joy and apprehension, all at once. it’s a foreign feeling, and there’s no time to dissect it as john leans close. 

his nose nudges yours. “i missed you.”

you sigh, wistful, and pull him onto the bed.

come morning you are sated and sore. you groan through a stretch, curling your back like a cat as you adjust to the morning light. you slept well, better than you have in several weeks. you can’t be sure if the dreamless slumber was due to exertion from your evening activities or pure tranquility. you missed sleeping beside john; he has a comforting way about him, even in the throes of pleasure or sleep.

you turn your face to see john already wake, propped up against a pile of pillows. you grin and reach for him.

“morning,” you mumble on a yawn.

he blinks contentedly at you, a half-smile on his mouth, a lit cigarette between his fingers. “morning.”

“sleep well?”

he nods. “that was the most sleep i’ve gotten in weeks.”

with a chuckle, you pinch his bicep. “funny—i thought the same for myself.”

he pats the space beside him, and you shuffle to lie perpendicular to his body, your head on his bare chest. he drapes an arm across your torso, and you lift his hand to fiddle with his long fingers.

the terrace door is still open, allowing mid-morning warmth and the gentle hum of the street below to fill the room. you sigh and smile when john takes a drag of his cigarette and tilts his head to exhale in the opposite direction. he knows you hate the smoke, thoughtful boy. 

when he turns back, he catches your eye, furrowing his brow as he studies the look on your face. “what?”

you shake your head. “nothing.”

he grunts, shifts a little lower along the pillows. “tell me about the paintings you’ve got going in that pretty head of yours.”

“just one for the moment—an angel near the sea. it’s for the olsons and their villa in greece.”

“olson? wasn’t he the one who bought that nudie fashioned after his wife?”

“precisely the one!”

john smirks. “how’d you feel if i had you paint something like that for me?”

you guffaw, flipping over onto your stomach to slap his breastbone. “john!”

he holds up his hands in surrender, though there’s a mischievous twinkle in his gray eyes. “oy! it’s just a thought!”

you huff. “continue like that and i won’t finish the painting i’ve started for you.”

he leans back against the pillows in surprise. his neck is contorted in the effort it takes to properly meet your eyes as he sits, and you poke the double-chin that’s popped up beneath his jaw. he swats your hand away, though his fingers wrap tight around your wrist. he presses his pointer finger against your pulse point.

“you’ve started a painting for me?”

“course i have. don’t sound so surprised.”

“what’s it of?”

you narrow your gaze. “don’t know if i should tell you. it’s supposed to be a birthday gift.”

“my birthday’s not for a while, [y/n].”

“my paintings take a while, john.”

he sighs, squeezes your wrist, lifts it to kiss the bone on the side of your hand. “tell me,” he mumbles, his mouth against your skin, eyes locked on yours.

on an inhale, you give in. “it’s victoria park. well, victoria park seventy-five years ago.”

his eyebrows rise, and his fingers tighten around your hand. “victoria park? my victoria park? from leicester?”

“where else, silly?”

he goes quiet. 

the air in your lungs stills, and that funny feeling you had the night before flares in your stomach. you feel your jaw slacken as he rakes his gaze over you in such unabashed adoration it makes your gut twist. there’s an overwhelming desire to be near him, to feel him as you’ve never felt him before, rising like the tide, and you are pulled to it like a baby sea turtle searching for the safety of the ocean. it’s a natural pull, but you are determined to ignore it. 

you sit up, brush a lock of hair behind your ear, and turn your back to him. 

he runs his finger along the curve of your shoulderblades. you shiver. 

sensing your discomfort, john sits straight in bed, the covers around his lap rustling with the movement. “you know,” he says, pulling on his cigarette again. “freddie would like one of your paintings.” 

“what?” you look over your shoulder with a frown. “you told him about me?” 

he shakes his head. “no, i just mean what you do is his style. he’d be thrilled to have something so… romantic.” he pauses and lifts a brow in question. “i could mention it to him, ask if he’d be interested?” 

your frown deepens. this is not the john you know. john rarely speaks about his bandmates, preferring to keep his exploits with queen separate from your arrangement. when he does talk about his job, it’s normally a complaint here, a silly little story there. though you’ve been with him more than a year, you know more about his life before queen than his life during. he’s private, like you, and you respect that. it’s why your arrangement works: mutual respect for the other’s boundaries. 

but there’s something different about him. you noted it the night before. first no shower. now suggesting he introduce you to freddie. it doesn’t make sense. 

or maybe it does. maybe this is his way of shifting the relationship, subtly, under your nose, done before you realize what’s happened. 

a thread of panic weaves itself around your spine. 

“what’s this about? you’ve never wanted me to meet freddie before.” 

he shrugs, playing innocent. “just an idea. we’re on break now, will be for some time. i figured meeting you would give freddie something to fuss over.” 

“you know how i feel about my studio, john.” 

“i know, i know. you like your privacy.” 

john stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray on the bedside table then scoots closer, drawing you close with an arm around your waist. his mouth works idle patterns along your shoulder, the spot where your neck meets your back, the ticklish spot behind your ear. 

you tighten your hold on his arm, your nails biting his skin. when you speak, your voice is but a whisper. 

“i don’t want things to change.” 

he stills, lifting his head from your skin. “sorry?” 

“i said i don’t want things to change.” turning, you meet his eyes, nearly losing your breath in the process. he’s close; you can practically taste him on your lips. “what we have works. don’t you think?” 

“’s just an idea, [y/n].” 

ducking your head, you play with the hair on his arm. your heart squeezes tight. “i know. but i say yes now and tomorrow you’ll be…” you lift your face. 

he seems to understand without needing you to finish the thought. 

he untangles himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. you watch his movements, stiff and irritated. he pulls on a pair of ratty joggers, rising from the bed to shut the terrace doors. you startle at the sound of glass rattling in the windowpanes. 

“john, i—” 

he cuts you off. there’s another cigarette between his fingers now. “better take a shower,” he quips. his eyes remain planted on the cigarette packet in his hands. he taps the thin stick against the cardboard several times before jamming it between his teeth. “you didn’t take one last night, and we wouldn’t want things to change, now would we?” 

the door slams shut, the blast echoing in your empty stomach.

you don’t hear from john for a week and a half. it’s not uncommon, the length between visits. he’s busy, you’re busy. sometimes you can barely find time for yourself, let alone him. still, there’s no box of chocolates delivered to your doorstep, no flowers dropped off at an inopportune time. 

there’s just silence. 

it worries you at first, and you wonder if he’s dropped you like a hot potato. it wouldn’t be unheard of. one arrangement ended in a similar fashion, and you nearly lost your studio in the process. but john is better than that. he wouldn’t leave you on the verge of homelessness, would he? he cares about you too much to do such a thing. 

your fears are assuaged when a bouquet of flowers does arrive one afternoon. you have paint smeared along your forehead, and your neck cracks as you stand to answer the doorbell, but the sight of sunflowers in a pretty blue vase erases all your uncertainties. the note tucked in the ramble of flowers makes you smile—sorry for being a dick. give me a call if you forgive me – j—and you tape it to your refrigerator. 

john is still yours; you are still his. 

you call him that night, and after reaffirming your boundaries, the phone call devolves into a mess of heavy breathing and whispered encouragements and sinful sorts of pleasure. 

as you fall asleep, you’re struck by something he said in the hazy cloud of post-bliss: even if this is all you give me, i’m happy. 

even if this is all you give me… 

he wants more. how much you aren’t sure, but enough that you can’t fall asleep as readily as you normally do. frustrated, you slip from bed and finagle your way down the stairs to the kitchen. you warm a glass of milk and lean against the counter, sipping slowly. your eyes fall along the mary cassatt print, now housed on the kitchen wall above the vase of sunflowers. the milk in your stomach curdles. 

john deacon loves you; and if you tarry any longer, you’ll be close to loving him, too.

the decision to call the arrangement off does not come lightly. you mull over it for days on end, even as a sliver of your heart warms to the idea of allowing john to love you as he pleases, of letting yourself love him back. 

it’s all you can think about the next time you see him face-to-face. as he pours you a glass of wine and lays you out on the living room floor, your thoughts are elsewhere. when he takes you shopping for canvas frames, you let him hold your hand, but you can’t focus on what he’s saying about the best fit. even when he mentions your studio and you find yourself willing to invite him inside, you cannot shake the feeling that you are losing a part of yourself you will never regain. 

but would it be so bad? giving in? 

you’re interested in john, that much you will concede. he’s good and kind and generous and a hell of a good romp and you enjoy your time with him. but the stubborn part of you refuses to let go of your own autonomy. you will not become his plaything, his arm candy at all the queen functions he so dreads. you value your independence too much—the safety of your well-crafted walls—to be anything other than his dirty little secret. 

you’re prepared to shove your concerns aside and continue on until john makes the decision for you. he gives freddie your studio address, and freddie shows up one morning unannounced. you invite him in, sketch out a painting over the worktable, smile when necessary, and ignore his wonderings about your connection to john but on the inside you’re reeling. you’re livid and you’re hurt. 

you’ve never been hurt by one of your arrangements before. 

after freddie leaves, john answers the telephone on the third ring. “hello?” 

“we can’t see each other anymore,” you say, your voice firm. 

he’s quiet for a moment. “i’m sorry—what?” 

“you heard me, john. i’m calling it all off.” 

“why on earth would you do that?” 

unbidden, an answer rises to your mouth: because i think i like you as much as you like me and i’m scared.

with a harsh clearing of your throat, you instead say, “you sent freddie here. i told you not to do that.” 

“he did what? no, [y/n], i didn’t send freddie to you.” 

“then how else would he know who i am? my clients don’t run in his circles.” 

panic laces the edge of john’s voice as he rushes to explain, but you grit your teeth against the sound. “i swear, angel, i didn’t tell him where you live. i might have told him about you, yeah, but he’s my best friend, and i needed some advice.” he hesitates, sucks in shaky breath. “don’t do this. don’t call it off.” 

you swallow hard. for the first time in a long time, you feel a wash of tears over your eyes. “you want too much from me, john. i can’t give you what you want. i’m not the girl for that sort of life.” 

“oh, baby, i—i’m sorry. i know i’ve been pushy lately but i—” he sighs. “god, i love you so dearly. i’d give you the world if you let me.” 

at this you choke on a sob. surprised by the sound, you press a hand to your mouth. 

oh god, you love him too. the feeling crashes over you like a wave, and you’re the sea turtle who has found the safety of the sea. john is your sea. he envelops you, carries you to safety and uncertainty all at once. but you know him—he will protect you, guide you, with everything he is and all that he has. 

you love him, you love him, you love him. 

but it’s not enough. it’s not supposed to go like this, and you both know it. 

“i’m sorry, john,” you whisper. you didn’t remember that tears taste salty. “please don’t call me, okay?” 

you hang up before you can hear his protests any further then you crawl into bed and weep.

several months pass. autumn fades into winter, and you grow colder by the day. 

you’re stressed. you cut john off entirely, opening a separate bank account and shuffling your monies and generally working to disentangle him from your life. but no john means no stable income. you’re fine for the time being, your painting for the olsons paid for and gone; but you’ve taken to rushing your artwork now, allowing customers to sit for hastily and poorly arranged portraits with their dogs and children. the paintings are lovely, yes, but they’re not you. it pays the bills, though, so you can’t complain. 

you continue on freddie’s painting. he paid you upfront, so you owe him that much. in the evenings, after shooing the last snot-nosed kid and yippy dog out of your home, you turn on the lamp above the canvas and return to the sort of art you yearn for day and night. the painting screams freddie mercury all over. 

there’s a man, mustached and tan, draped against a purple chaise in the center of the canvas. he’s flanked by a tall gentleman with wiry hair who is focused on a globe in the corner. to the far right, two other men—one blond, one brunette—whisper amongst themselves. you realize, belatedly, that you are painting queen in some sort of ridiculous nineteenth century daydream. it makes you snort every time you sit down to work. 

you struggle to capture john in the painting. you know his face better than you know your own. you dream of it every night and wake to an image of it every morning. 

you love him. you miss him. 

you’re not certain when you started loving him. maybe six months in when he took you to new york and the moma and the empire state building. maybe nine months in—your first christmas together—when he gifted you a song. maybe a year in when he confessed his deepest fears—fears of loneliness and isolation and an empty old age—and made you promise to stay by his side. maybe when he came back this last tour and you wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt to hold back. 

you’ve never been in love. you don’t quite understand the way it works, but you know enough to know that you love him. perhaps you always will, your disco deaky, the thoughtful boy. 

you finish freddie’s painting come the first of the year. it’s been four months without john, four months entirely on your own. you have no compunction to find another arrangement. no one could fill the shoes of john deacon even if they tried, and the idea doesn’t appeal to you like it once did. you’ll go it alone for a while and revel in the autonomy you so desire. 

freddie invites you to dinner when you call and say the painting is ready, and you reluctantly go. you’re half afraid he’ll pull some trick and invite john as well, but he swears he’ll be on his best behavior. the night of the dinner, you dress warm and gently arrange the framed canvas in the boot of your car. after losing your way twice, you eventually find his house and park outside. jim helps you carry the painting through the tight gate and into the front parlor where freddie waits, hands clasped in excitement. 

“oh, i could just piss myself i’m so thrilled!” freddie squeezes your shoulders when you unveil the completed work. “i look so divine, like bloody oscar wilde!” 

the edges of a smile lift your mouth. “yes, divine indeed.” 

“you are more talented than you know, [y/n],” freddie says. he boops the end of your nose. “you shouldn’t hide your talent.” 

“i don’t! i sell my work.” 

“yes, but you could be a star, darling. i could make you a star.” 

“i don’t want to be a star, freddie.” 

“then what do you want?” 

you sigh, shrug, and curl your lips in a wry grin. “not sure anymore.” 

“perhaps dinner will help you figure it out. come on, it’s ready and we don’t want it getting cold.” 

you follow freddie to the dining room. what awaits you sends your blood running cold as the frost outside. john richard deacon, handsome as ever, sits at the table, a smoke in hand. he looks up when you enter, surprise painting his face at the sight of you bundled in a winter coat in his friend’s dining room. 

you twist in the doorway. your fists tremble with rage. “fuck you, freddie!” 

he cringes. “okay, i can explain. you just have to hear me out before you slit my throat.” 

john rises to his feet. “[y/n]…” 

you ignore him and keep your gaze on freddie. “you promised!” 

freddie nods. “yes, i know, but you see it was my fault that this whole thing fell apart.” 

at this, john turns his head. “what are you on about, fred?” 

“well, when you told me about your relationship with [y/n]”–-he lowers his voice to a stage whisper, looking at you from the corner of his eye—“when you told me you loved her”—he returns to his normal voice—“i got very distracted by the idea of a painting of the four of us. so i ignored your issue and looked her up and then it all fell apart.”

john sucks in a deep breath, shaking his head. he runs a hand down his face, and you note the weariness etched along his eyes. “fuck, fred.” 

“so, you see, it’s my fault. if i had just left well enough alone, you two might still be shagging like rabbits and spending all that hard-earned money instead of moping like a pair of silly-pants!” he sobers, his nose twitching. “i really am sorry. it was selfish of me.” 

“freddie—” you start. 

he shakes his head. “no! i won’t hear any excuses—not until you’ve made up.” a timer somewhere in the kitchen dings, and he snaps. “now… if you’ll excuse me…” he slips from the dining room, shutting the door behind him with a tell-tale click. 

you look to the floor. you should get your winter boots polished. they’re horribly scuffed. 

john speaks first. “you look good, [y/n].” 

lifting your head, you scoff. “you always were a flatterer.” 

“no, i mean it.” 

you run your eyes over him and feel your heart trip. god, you missed him. “you look good, too.” 

“what have you been doing?” 

“oh, this and that. mostly painting portraits.” 

“you hate portraits.” 

“i know.” 

outside, the cricks chirp loudly, but you wonder if john can heart the beating of your heart over the chorus of insects. 

“[y/n], i—” 

“john—” 

he smirks. you look to your toes again. 

“you go first,” he says. 

lifting your head, you dare to step further into the room. you steel yourself, biting the inside of your tongue to keep from spilling your guts at his feet. “i was wrong, too.” 

he cocks his head to the side in confusion. “what do you mean?” 

it’s time, isn’t it? seeing him now... how could you ever live without him?

“i was foolish and stubborn and willful. i knew what i wanted, but ignored it for the sake of my own stupid ideals.” you step closer and catch a whiff of his cologne. it sends a thrill straight to your belly. “turns out i need people just as much as you do.” 

“what are you saying?” 

“i’m saying i was wrong to turn you away. i was scared. i’ve only ever known love with a price tag on it, never real love. not until you anyway. as complicated as it is, you have loved me better than anyone else, and i was blind to it for so long. and even when i wasn’t blind to it, i pushed you away. i’m sorry.”

he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “what—what are you saying?” he asks again.

“i’m saying i miss you and i’m a right git and i love you and i’m sorry.” 

he reaches for you, his touch like fire on your wrist. “i shouldn’t have pushed you.” 

you shake your head in disagreement. “i needed a good pushing. i didn’t realize how much i needed you until you were gone. and fuck all about the money. i don’t care about that. i needed you. i need you.” 

john moves his hands to cup your face, his palms warm on your cool cheeks. he leans downs and presses his forehead to yours. you exhale, sure that if you open your eyes, if you move an inch, you will wake from whatever dream you inhabit. you don’t want this moment to end—him and you and no one else, all the possibility in the world stretching out before you. 

“you don’t know what it means to hear you say that,” he whispers. “i would be content to love you silently, but, god, i love you.” 

you laugh and open your eyes, blinking back tears. you pull away to meet his gaze. “even though i’m a stubborn fool?” 

“i’m more stubborn and more foolish than you ever could be.” his thumbs work over the apple of your cheeks. “i love you,” he breathes. 

“i love you.” 

you grin. he matches your smile. 

“kiss me,” you whisper. 

his eyes widen, his mouth parting. “but—” 

“it’s part of our new arrangement. you can kiss me whenever you like so long as you promise not to smoke in bed.” 

“fuck. i—” he shakes his head, eyes fluttering shut. you lift a hand to his cheek, and his eyes open. 

“i know. me too.” 

he captures your mouth, the touch soft and everything you have waited to find, everything you have searched for in all the wrong places. he kisses you, holds you against his body, weaves his hand in your hair. he moves his lips in tandem with yours, and you feel like you’re floating. 

he kisses you, and you are home.

[3laxx]

Built to Last - Chapter 1

Amity hadn't dreamed to spend her summer like this. She had just graduated from a prestigious private school and had hoped she could escape to her own little adventure until her scholarship at the college starts, but instead, her parents decide to pimp up her résumé and make her a supervisor at their newest little project, a mansion in the middle of nature. She would rather be anywhere else, yet as she meets Luz Noceda, she finds construction work very interesting, all of a sudden. And that's totally not due to the fact that Luz is all her gay dreams coming true.

Heya people! I'm back with a new story!

One of my bigger projects at the moment and one of the reasons why I haven't been uploading for over a month xD I started working in my new job! Also got my first paycheck already! And I've been writing A LOT ever since the start of September! So yeah, this is kind of inspired by my work and I've written quite a bit for this already. It's basically just Luz being hot, Amity being gay, and a lot of mad blushes x)

Ao3 / FF.net

---

As Amity’s car came to a stop, she sighed, before pulling the handbrake and looking up to the mansion that was standing in front of her.

Or rather, the structural work she could see. While the shape of the mansion was already erected, with the base and all the walls out of sturdy concrete standing, there was still a lot to do.

Her parents had decided to build a giant new mansion in the middle of a huge land they had purchased, full of forest and beautiful scenery, and it was on her to oversee the construction.

It wasn’t that Amity had any idea how construction worked.

Her parents were on a business trip, like almost all her life long, and her siblings were in the middle of their studies, and focusing on this was of the utmost importance in the Blight household.

Amity was twenty now and had just graduated from an expensive private school her parents had sent her to, to enable a scholarship at a very renowned university.

So, essentially, her summer had been meant to be free and be spent by maybe relaxing for once, maybe even traveling a little, but since her mother detested holes in her résumé, she had to be kept busy somehow.

This meant that her position in overseeing the progress on their new mansion project was registered as “construction project management” and she was required to at least show up once a day and stay for a few hours.

She knew exactly what her parents' plan was.

They believed workers worked twice as fast and neatly when the customer was standing right behind them and monitoring their progress personally.

In short, her parents believed in intimidation.

It really wasn’t Amity’s style to be a fearmonger and do nothing more than to annoy the workers and create tension in their workspace. It was an issue of trust, that Amity had in the companies her parents had hired, but her parents didn’t and she couldn’t understand why.

After years of being monitored down to the littlest detail, she knew out of experience that someone breathing down her neck wasn’t something that helped along with productivity, quality, or speed.

But her parents had put her name on the project, it was all over everyone’s plans and she was an official member of the board overseeing this construction.

It wasn’t mandatory for her to show up to the site in her job description, nor was it mandatory for her to oversee any progress. But her parents had made sure to let her know what they expected of her before they had left. Amity hated that she was so intimidated by her parents to fulfill their wishes even if they weren’t here, even if she wasn’t sure if they were still on the same continent, but she was and so she had driven up here every single day and seen the mansion be built up completely in a matter of a month. Well, construction had already started when she had still been in school, so she hadn’t seen all of it.

Her parents had done that, of course.

Sighing, she got out of the car and headed up to the mansion, located on a little hill, towering above the giant property. It was a holiday getaway, her parents had insisted, even if she believed it was more to house some high-ranking guests, maybe some politicians her parents paid, to get in their good graces.

She mostly had that theory because she couldn’t remember the last time her parents had taken a genuine break from their work. Granted, sometimes they traveled to some holiday homes or some luxury hotels, but even these were sprinkled by meeting someone, having a friendly round of golf to discuss business and such things.

Her parents never acted without their business in the back of their heads.

Shaking her head, Amity freed her thoughts of her parents. She didn’t want to think of them. Coming in a few months she would move far away from them, actually near where they were building this mansion right now, and start her studies. And then she would only have to deal with them whenever they cooked up another business thing and roped Amity in, or at family holidays to keep the illusion of a happy family. She was just glad her siblings would be there with her.

Today, the interior design team would start.

The structural work was done, as far as it went, as were all the systems in place like heating, water, and gas.

Now, they had commissioned a fairly small local company building luxury interiors to do all the decorating in the entire house with floors, walls, ceilings, doing all the interior design of the sanitary rooms and kitchen, as well as all built-in furniture and whatever else Amity could think of.

It wasn’t that Amity knew what was necessary for the installation of everything, but she had self-taught quite a lot of theory through videos online due to a personal interest of hers and at least had an idea of what they were talking about.

Not that she let them in on that.

Whenever she had been there overseeing construction of the structural work, she had done her best to make herself appear as clueless as she could without sounding dumb, so they would be able to relax a little more.

If someone was looking over your shoulder who had no idea what you were doing anyway, it’d always feel more relaxed.

She hoped to at least relieve some of the intended intimidation meant by her parents.

Approaching the estate, she already saw some of her colleagues looking in her direction, some of the actual project managers, and a new site manager that she didn’t know yet. She had long black hair and a relatively tall statue, as well as a rigid posture. She was wearing a suit, too.

Did someone tell her Amity was coming?

If so, and she had decided to wear a suit just for her, that’d be embarrassing.

She appeared to acknowledge her arrival but turned back to another site engineer that Amity hadn’t had the pleasure of being introduced to yet. She looked very similar to the other one, only that her hair was really long, gray, and in a rather messy ponytail.

She also wore work pants and a simple shirt with the name of the company printed on the back and, smaller, on the chest. Amity immediately recognized the symbol on the woman’s chest as the one printed on the van next to them as well, which was a stylized owl, and read Clawthorne Sisters beneath it.

Amity had been excited for them to arrive. Now that the concrete was in place, all the drywall installations were finished and all the necessary cables and pipes were installed, the interesting part would begin. Making everything look like a home, instead of a palace of concrete and ugly pipes.

Or, well…

A house. Make it look like a house, instead of a skeleton. This mansion would never become home to anybody.

Finally arriving at the front door, Amity greeted all the project managers, engineers, and architects she already knew, who didn’t show up every day but had only come here to oversee the start of the interior design, before turning to the tall woman with a clipboard and strikingly green eyes.

“Good morning, my name is Amity Blight.”, she started and held out a hand to the woman, whose eyebrows shot up at the mention of her last name. Apparently, nobody had told her that she would be coming and Amity felt relief flooding her veins when she realized that this site manager had not dressed up for her.

“Lilith Clawthorne, it’s my pleasure.”, she greeted back and they shook hands, before she turned to the other, an equally tall woman next to her.

“This is Edalyn Clawthorne, site engineer and master mechanic of our company. You may direct any questions you have about plans, time management and schedules at me, and any technical questions at her.”, Amity nodded to that and shook the other woman’s hand as well. They seemed to be the sisters after which the company was named.

“Alright, good to know.”, she said but didn’t continue any further, so she just listened to the project managers talk for a while, before looking around and finding the master mechanic missing.

The site manager seemed to notice this.

“If you like, Miss Blight, we can head inside and oversee the progress since this morning.”

To that, Amity nodded, although a feeling of dread pooled in her stomach.

This meant producing the stress her parents wanted. They had explicitly instructed the project managers to inform their workers not to address them or interrupt their tour in any way.

In Amity’s experience, this had always resulted in tensions.

But Ms. Clawthorne was already heading inside and everyone else stepped back to let Amity in first, so she followed.

Just after the door, they each took a helmet from a prepared stand and put it on, since there would be overhead installation going on and the Clawthorne Sisters company had insisted on everyone, without exception, to wear a helmet. That had just made them all the more attractive to Amity, while she already held them in high regard judging from their portfolio and versatility in interior design and luxury decorations.

As expected, the conversations between some workers installing a floor in the entrance area quickly died out and they hunched over, focusing on their task ahead. They stopped as Ms. Clawthorne began explaining how these natural floorboards would be imported for them, ground and finished to feel natural yet soft, while Amity began looking around.

There were a lot of new faces around here since the Clawthorne Sisters had brought all their workers and replaced the construction crew almost completely, safe for a few left-over workers who cleaned up the last of their work and deconstructed some equipment they had used.

Amity mostly noted how young most of them were.

The entrance area was manned by two boys, maybe even younger than her, who were doing some of the easier tasks, managing wires to be hidden by the floorboards by tying them together and treating some sealed pipes. Down the hallway she saw a girl, around her age, managing some wires in the walls and making sure everything was neat and orderly for the wall decorations to be installed on top.

Taking a few steps away from the planning team, she peeked into the main lobby and saw three more people, two boys, and a girl, rearranging some supplies and equipment they had brought to be stashed in the wide space and not be in anyone’s way, looking just a bit older than her.

“Huh…”, she felt herself mumbling, before turning back and feeling all eyes on her as she returned to the group, immediately feeling a blush rising.

“Is everything to your expectations, Miss Blight?”, Ms. Clawthorne asked and she was quick to nod.

“Oh, yes, everything is alright!”, she was quick to assure, but the piercing eyes of the site manager quickly realized there was a question forming, so Amity seized the opportunity, “Just… I’ve seen a lot of workers my age. Do you usually employ younger workers?” To her surprise, Ms. Clawthorne smiled at that, something she hadn’t expected to see today when she had seen the slight scowl she always seemed to wear on her lips.

“We’ve had a few workers leaving the company for their retirement lately, and my sister and I strongly agree to encourage and support the younger generations to get an education in handicrafts. We have assembled a strong team of young employees and trainees for our company and they’ve proven to be very reliable, you can be assured.”

Amity nodded at that and quickly jumped in to reassure that her question wasn’t meant as a critique or concern.

“Oh, I wasn’t worrying! I think that’s very progressive.”, she quickly said and earned a nod from Ms. Clawthorne, giving her the feeling that she had just risen in her respect before the group continued walking through the mansion. Ms. Clawthorne pointed out a few things, explained some others, and they gradually lost more and more project managers and architects to discuss plans in more detail, until just Ms. Clawthorne and Amity were left to walk through the upper level, talking about some decoration elements that would be installed up here in the master bedroom, their conversation having turned rather relaxed and almost amicable after they left all the workers and other project planners behind and had some time to get to know each other better.

Until someone came stomping up the stairs rather loudly.

Ms. Clawthorne, Lilith, as she had assured her, immediately stiffened up and Amity turned to locate the commotion, seeing a tall girl her age come barreling up the stairs with some boards on her shoulder, a wide grin on her face with white teeth that shone against her dark skin in the contrast, as she jogged up the last few steps.

The girl turned, the boards swinging around, and suddenly, Amity saw the boards coming her way, right at the height of her face.

Seemingly just before impact, the girl gave the boards a nudge while Amity was already ducking her head, and a cheerful voice that sounded like it was laughing a lot in her life, sounded.

“Whoops! Duck!”, she exclaimed and the boards went right over Amity’s head, bonking her helmet, before she dared to look up again, watching the girl stopping right in front of her, still turned sideways not to have the boards that she was balancing on her shoulder trying to decapitate Amity again.

“Woah there, that was almost bad! You good?”, the girl chuckled, her not-so-scrawny shoulders shaking in delight, before giving Amity’s helmet a knock with her knuckles. Her ears were almost ringing from the knocking and she ducked her head again, only then did the girl let off, “That’s what the helmets are for!”

Amity managed a nod but the girl was already walking past her, whistling a happy tune, while waving her hand back at them.

“Sorry again!”, she called, before rounding the corner and apparently finding a coworker of hers with which she began talking, her voice carrying away the further she went.

The young Blight was embarrassed to admit that she had stared after her toned forearms and biceps, her slim calves, and her back long after she had vanished behind a wall.

Slowly, Amity could relax her shoulders again and straightened back up, adjusting her helmet, and turning back to Ms. Clawthorne. To claim she was furious was probably an understatement.

Her entire face with a rather fair skin tone was flaming while she looked after where the girl had gone and she was shaking in anger.

Turning away from Amity, probably to shield her from her voice, she yelled after the girl, raising her fist.

“LUZ NOCEDA, COME BACK HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!!”, she yelled and Amity couldn’t deny she had flinched before the melodic voice with the slightest Spanish accent called back.

“Just a moment, Lily! Be right there!”, she faintly called, but Amity couldn’t focus. All she could think about was her name that she had just learned, and she swore she wouldn’t forget it.

Luz Noceda.

“You wanted to talk to me?”, the girl, Luz, grinned as she came back, this time without boards, and propped her hands upon her waist. Only now, Amity could get a proper look at her.

She felt her heart speeding up when she took in her whole appearance. Luz was wearing worn-out safety shoes, some loose-fitting shorts, and a dark pullover with the company’s logo printed on her chest with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, as well as a toolbelt and a helmet on her brown, sweaty, and very messy hair.

Her face was cute and looked like she was a lot of fun to be around, her brown eyes sparkling with joy about something she had just experienced, maybe a joke with a coworker, judging from the volume at which she had been laughing downstairs and down the hall.

Well, Amity had known she was gay, but that gay?

Gulping, she took in the girl in front of her that was about half a head taller than her, then she flinched at Ms. Clawthorne’s voice winning in volume again.

“Luz Noceda! First of all, workplace safety! You know exactly to check your way when carrying big loads. And second of all, you apologize immediately! Do you know who-”

Luz seemingly shrunk more and more with each word her boss was yelling at her, and since she couldn’t bear watching that bubbliness being suppressed like this, Amity acted unthinkingly and cut into her tirade, holding out her hand.

“I’m Amity. Pleasure to meet you.”, she quickly exclaimed, a little louder than planned to interrupt Ms. Clawthorne, but her speaking up had an immediate effect.

The older woman next to her gulped the rest of her sentence and switched her gaze from Luz down to Amity, staring silently.

In contrary to her boss, Luz was apparently delighted. Immediately, her shoulders straightened again and she took Amity’s hand after taking off her glove, grinning.

“Luz. Sorry for slamming the boards on your head, I’ll take better care next time. You the architect’s intern or something?”, she replied while shaking Amity’s hand and she giggled, shaking her head, paying Ms. Clawthorne no mind while she started getting angry again, ready to make Luz three heads shorter.

“No, I’m-… Doesn’t matter.”, she laughed, waving it off, “A-And, uh, don’t worry about the boards, that’s why we wear helmets.”

Luz gave her the finger guns and clicked with her tongue, before pulling on her glove again.

“Alright then, have a lot of fun planning or whatever you guys do, I’ll do more interesting stuff.”

She winked and Amity could’ve sworn she was flirting with her. Which completely distracted her from the fact that Ms. Clawthorne’s eyelid was already twitching in uncontrolled rage.

While Luz sauntered off, Amity caught the attention of her boss again, eager not to let her be too mad at her employee. Trying a careful approach to change the topic, she softly clapped her hands together, winning back Ms. Clawthorne’s attention.

“So… I believe we haven’t talked about the bathrooms yet, am I correct?”, she inquired and Ms. Clawthorne immediately switched back to her polite way, nodding stiffly.

“Yes, Miss Blight, right this way.”, she offered Amity to walk ahead and led her down the same hallway Luz had gone, and she couldn’t stop herself from peeking inside the room Luz and a coworker of hers were preparing to work on, catching a glimpse of Luz’s toned calves flexing when she stood on her tiptoes to mark something on the wall.

Unfortunately, the door went by quickly and she couldn’t see much more of her when she had already walked past, before having to turn back to the topics her parents wanted her to discuss. Which was a lot drier planning and listening and trying to visualize complicated construction plans.

It really wasn’t that Amity wasn’t interested in learning all of this. She loved hearing about construction projects and planning where to put elements to create a harmonizing room.

But now that she had seen Luz?

Well, it wasn’t that Amity was overly starved of seeing attractive people. There were a lot of attractive people in her close environment, some of her friends for example and she couldn’t deny that most of her family’s acquaintances were fairly good-looking as well.

But something about Luz had fascinated her.

The way she moved, the way she was covered in dust and sweat and had still smelled kind of good. The way her eyes were sparkling and how she was so comfortable in her own skin, walking through her life as if she was exactly in the place where she wanted to be.

Amity was fascinated by the honest and self-assured way she was moving, behaving, and acting.

And, well, there was the fact that Luz was just ridiculously attractive to her.

She sure as hell wouldn’t forget the way her white teeth shone against her dark skin and how her muscles moved and-

“I’m afraid I must ask you to excuse me, Miss Blight.”, a firm voice suddenly interrupted her thinking and she looked up from the plan Ms. Clawthorne had spread on a nearby table, only then hearing the ringing of a phone. Mutely nodding, Amity took a step back to grant her some privacy and tried to look back at the plan, making some sense of what she saw. It was some kind of cover for the bathtub, she believed. Or was it for the sinks?

Internally groaning, she shook her head to herself. If she hadn’t spent dreaming about Luz the entire time she would have an idea of what Ms. Clawthorne had been explaining to her and she’d be able to work out what the plan was about.

But, as luck would have it, she got off her phone and turned to her with an apologetic face.

“I’m very sorry, Miss Blight, but I’ll have to cut our tour short here. Some of my workers have started laser measuring the walls downstairs and I’m afraid I have to join them and the architect to work out the plans for that. Do you need me to bring you back to the front door?”

Her chance!

Quickly, Amity shook her head and smiled.

“Oh, no thanks! I will look around a bit more and get back to you before I leave, thank you.”, she excused the woman and without missing a beat, the site manager nodded and left her to her own devices.

It wasn’t that Amity had wanted her to go, but now she could maybe sneak a peek at the attractive worker, Luz, again…?

Tempted to slap herself, she furrowed her eyebrows.

Spying on workers?

How shameful. She shouldn’t do that.

Humming, Amity turned to wander out of the bathroom-to-be and down the hallway again, hearing voices getting louder the closer she drew to the room where she had seen Luz starting her work. But instead of spotting the ridiculously attractive girl, she was met by her rather sturdy coworker with slightly chubby cheeks, a kind face, and dark hair, along with the dark-skinned boy she had seen in the entrance hall already. They both talked quieter when they noticed her wandering past and Amity picked up her pace to be out of their hair as quickly as possible again.

She wondered where Luz had gone.

Maybe she had gone downstairs again to get more boards?

Amity decided that checking it out wouldn’t hurt, so she walked downstairs, past some more surprisingly young workers and some of the management board nodding to her politely, before stepping out of the entrance area again into the fresh air and breathing through.

Behind her, the work was picking up and she began hearing a drill hammering into some concrete, as well as a saw somewhere around the mansion, but she didn’t think much of it, the air was feeling way too nice after walking through the dusty construction site.

Wait a minute…

She had seen Luz carrying up boards from below. Maybe she had cut them to length?

More out of curiosity than anything, Amity stepped off the porch and rounded the mansion, peeking around a corner, only to spot the very same girl she had found herself losing her concentration to upstairs, standing by some trestle legs on which she had placed boards, cutting them with a circular saw. She looked very concentrated and was wearing some ear protection now, as well as some glasses to protect herself from the saw dust.

Amity clenched her hand around the corner of the house when she felt her heart speeding up, licking her lips when she saw how Luz was leaning forward a bit more, the muscles on her elbow coming out.

She wasn’t overly muscular or anything, and Amity didn’t like bodybuilder types anyway, but it showed that Luz had worked in this field for quite some time already, and with being on constructions like this one, she probably got all the workout she needed just by working.

Humming, Amity finally decided to stop being a creep and pretend to be on her phone like a normal human, pulling it out to pretend and tap on it a little while walking out from the corner.

She did her best to appear busy on her phone, but Luz didn’t even acknowledge her.

Better for her, because she could keep staring.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Amity could see the saw dust covering Luz’s forearms, giving them a slight sheet of dust, and she wished she could be closer to watch her cutting those boards in more detail.

But this was getting really creepy. She should stop.

Shaking her head, Amity groaned and looked up to the sky, before shooting Luz one last glance and walking back to the entrance area, putting her phone away.

Maybe she could talk to her someday. Or just listen to her again.

Grumbling to herself, Amity did one last tour of the whole house, waiting and hoping for her confidence to build up again to talk to the cute girl, but when she had walked past Ms. Clawthorne a second time, she supposed she had to wave that wish goodbye.

Bidding her goodbyes to all the members of the project management board, she walked back to her car and sat in the driver’s seat, defeated.

Now she had had the chance to have normal conversations here, the entire mansion was full of young workers instead of moody old men, and she had blown it. She could only hope Luz would be there tomorrow.

Sending a last, longing gaze to the now-abandoned saw sitting on the trestle legs, she started her car and put it in reverse.

Either this had been it or she would have another chance tomorrow.

For now, this was enough for her. But this evening she would deeply regret leaving without having tried anything because when she lied down to sleep, the pictures of an unfairly attractive girl working at the site wouldn’t leave her mind alone.

 ---

“LUZ NOCEDA!”, a voice yelled from downstairs just before the evening and the young woman currently handling the last of the wires listened up.

“Oh, that sounded like Lilith.”, she noted and Willow snorted.

“Ya think?”, she asked and Luz grumbled when she got up, shooting Willow a look.

“I don’t need your sass right now, Willow.”, she shot back at her friend who just snickered, shaking her head before going back to drilling holes into the boards for tomorrow.

“COME DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”, made both of them flinch, causing Luz to duck her head.

“You better go, she sounds seriously angry.”, Willow shooed Luz with a handwave, putting her drill into position again.

Luz quickly made her way out of the room and down the hallway towards the stairs, where she already saw Lilith standing at the base of them.

Gulping, she made her way down and Lilith glared at her, making her grimace.

“Uh, yes?”, she sheepishly responded, already scared of what she had done wrong when Lilith turned and waved her to follow. Oh, this was bad.

If she didn’t want to scold her in front of everyone, she was going to get the harshest yelling she had ever gotten. Lilith led her outside, before turning back to the young woman and holding out her finger, her face uncharacteristically red.

“Do you have any idea what you did today?!”, she hissed and Luz pulled up her shoulders, eyes wide.

“Did-… Did I, uh, what did I do?”, she carefully asked, but that only seemed to explode Lilith’s rage.

“You embarrassed us IN FRONT OF OUR CUSTOMER!!”, she finally yelled and Luz could already feel all eyes on her while her coworkers gathered on the windows to watch where the yelling had come from.

“O-Our customer?”, Luz ducked her head more when Lilith got redder.

“YOU SLAMMED BOARDS ON HER HEAD, YOU IDIOT!!”, she screamed and Luz’s heart dropped into her pants. So that fancy-dressed had been because she had been the customer.

Oh.

Oooooh.

She had… She had bonked boards on her head and then knocked on her helmet. On their… On their million-dollar assignment customer.

Gulping, Luz sunk into herself more. She had absolutely blown their assignment, hadn’t she? She had just lost the company a couple Million dollars, she had gotten all of her coworkers fired, she’d pay compensation for the rest of her life, she would-

“You’re lucky she wasn’t hurt!! This could’ve gone very differently! I don’t know what kind of guardian angel you blackmailed to look over you, but if this had been Odalia Blight you would’ve been dead and the company along with you!!”, Lilith got closer to her and her screaming suddenly dropped to a very dangerous whisper, “If this hadn’t been the daughter of our customer, I would’ve killed you on the spot. You’re lucky she’s a lot nicer than her mother.”

Gulping, Luz leaned back a little.

“I-I’m not fired…?”, she tried and Lilith finally found back to her normally pale skin color, adjusting her suit.

“Your mother and my sister would have my head if I fired you. Also, Miss Blight was very forgiving and didn’t cancel our assignment, yet. We’re allowed to continue working for now. Until that’s not clear, though, you better not step too far away from the hanging tree, because I will personally put the hangman’s noose around your neck if the Blights terminate that job. Is that understood?”, Lilith got dangerously close again and Luz gulped, rubbing her neck.

“Very graphically understood.”, she mumbled and Lilith glared at her one more time, before straightening back up and walking back to the construction site.

“If you speak to her again, it will be an absolute emergency and you will do so politely and with some respect and dignity. And now clear up your things, we’ll leave at five sharp and if you’re late you’ll sleep here.”

Grumbling, Luz patted her chest to attempt and soothe her beating heart, before running a hand through her dusty hair and shaking it out. This had been shorter than she had anticipated.

Once again rubbing over her neck, she then followed Lilith inside and sighed. She was looking forward to the days where the jobs would be mundane enough for Lilith to stay in the office and let Eda handle the coordination. Having Eda as her superior instead of Lilith was absolutely preferable.

Well, if she was lucky, she would have to focus on work so much she wouldn’t even have time to acknowledge Miss Blight anymore. Maybe she also wouldn’t come back tomorrow, after all, the rich and wealthy had other things to worry about, right?

Especially their customers, who were paying for this giant mansion.

Humming, she entered the building again and ignored all her coworkers looking at her, before starting to pack up the tools she had used and collecting her personal stuff, like her gloves and jacket.

Willow shot her a sympathetic glance and Luz clapped on her shoulder to reassure her that she was okay for now, then they all gathered around their bus to be taken back to the company so they could end the day.

The whole evening, though, Luz fretted going to work the next day, fearing the possible encounter with the Blight girl. Hopefully, she wouldn’t show up so Luz wouldn’t risk her head, her financial stability, and her dignity for all eternity.

---

Let me know what you think! <3

[leerongrong]

of dispatch and jealousy.

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: In which you’re dragged into a dating scandal with your not-so-boyfriend Jaemin and actual boyfriend Mark gets jealous.

Requested: yess!! what if you wrote a mark x idol!reader where she’s best friends with dream and he gets jealous over her being on a variety show with jaemin and she never leaves jaemin’s  side during it bc she’s nervous and he’s the only one she knows?

“Just relax.” Bright studio lights are somewhat blinding, they stand tall and loom over the figures standing side by side to each other. The studio’s buzzing with life as staff and crew members hustle around the space to prepare the stars for their filming schedule, one of them standing in front of you to add finishing touches to your makeup while another behind you, adding hair spray to your already frigid hair. Your eyes are trailing to the side, where you see one of your best friends in a similar condition. “Besides, you look prettier when you smile.”

The smile that breaks out on Jaemin’s face is sweet, the same one you always see him wear on camera, and it’s almost contagious that your lips start to stretch into one. You and Jaemin are currently on set for a variety show, sent as SM’s representatives along with a few other groups from other agencies, all of them unknown people to you, knowing none of them with only Jaemin as your companion.

“Mark-hyung agrees with me too.” He’s putting both of his hands on his waist, in a mocking fashion along with puffing his chest out and trying his best in imitating Mark’s voice. “She’s so pretty when she smiles- I mean she’s always pretty but like especially when she smiles, the really big one you know? Honestly every one of her smiles are angelic but- you get what i mean right, Jaems?”

The giggle he pulls out of you is angelic, shaking your whole body while your lips form into a smile. Jaemin’s been the only few people who could pull a genuine smile out of you, the other one being Mark Lee, your otherwise current boyfriend of 6 months.

Jaemin was the one who introduced you, claiming with a wink that, “The two of you were meant for each other.” and while you’d never been one for measly crushes, you couldn’t deny the fact that Mark had you enamoured by your 3rd meet up with him. You both had hit it off enough to write your tittle song together, the one which you used to confess your feelings to him and had hit number 1 in Melon the same day the two of you had gotten together, talk about a win win.

“You really shouldn’t day dream about Hyung here.” Jaemin’s face is up close to yours and he has a teasing smile on his face as he boops your nose along with jabbing his fingers into your stomach. “People could find out.”

Your hairstylist rolls her eyes at the two of you, clearly entertained by your jabs and nicks at each other. She adds another clip into your hair before parting on her way while your eyes are scanning the other idols, along with Jaemin, smiling politely when one of them sends a wave your way.

“Everyone! Let’s get started!”

Thinking back on the variety show you did with Jaemin a few months ago, you couldn’t think of anything wrong. It had gone of smoothly, both the MC’s and other idols had been nothing but sweet to you, some even ended up being your friend afterwards. But as you’re sitting down in your own dorm, phone in hand while scrolling down the multiple headlines and news about you and Jaemin supposedly dating, you suppose you guessed wrong.

(BREAKING) DIspatch Reveals NCT Dream’s Na Jaemin and Soloist Y/N Are Dating.

Dispatch has confirmed another 2020′s SM Couple: NCT Dream’s Na Jaemin and Soloist Y/N!

Every year, Korean news outlet Dispatch rings in by revealing new celebrity couples to the public. This year, they released photos proving that NCT Dream’s Na Jaemin and Soloist Y/N have been secretly seeing each other.

According to Dispatch, Jaemin picked Y/N up at her dorm after shortly coming back from his sold out world tour, the two wearing masks and hats to cover their faces before they went to a restaurant for their date.

Dispatch also caught the couple walking while holding hands with each other very often, in between schedules or at filming sights. One of which is weekly idol, where a leaked footage reveals the couple acting very lovey dovey with each other on set.

The dorm is silent, not one sound in the air. The clock is ticking soundly while the cooked dinner you had set up slowly begins to become cold with the amount of time you’ve chosen to scroll down your phone while biting at your nails.

user 0945: i think they’re cute with each other.

user 4790: shouldn’t she be focusing on her career first? she debuts in SM and she’s wasting her time on dating? what an idiot.

user 6905: what does jaemin even see in her?

user 4823: she’s human too! it should be her choice to date.

user 8755: they’ve been dating for 2 years? wow.. we really don’t know our idols after all..

You’re taking in one comment after the other, some of your fans shipping you with Jaemin while others are bashing at the fact that you’ve chosen to get a boyfriend, claiming you as theirs to begin with. Your heart is filled with anxiety, a feeling of everything closing in at once and you’re taking in deep breaths to reduce the amount of stress you feel in your system.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! You have 25 new messages.

[22:10] Lee MinMark sent a message.

Babe? Are you okay?

[22:11] Lee MinMark sent a message.

Babe, please read your texts.

[22:12] You have one (1) missed voice call from Lee MinMark.

[22:13] Lee MinMark sent a message.

Answer your phone. Please. I need to know if you’re okay.

[22:13] Lee MinMark sent a voicemall.

[22:15] You have two (2) missed voice calls from Lee MinMark.

[22:15] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message.

so we’re dating now??

[22:15] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message.

does hyung know about this??

[22:17] You have four (4) missed voice call from Lee MinMark.

[22:17] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message.

hyung looks worried and pissed

[22:17] Boss Manager sent a message.

Do not give any information to the press. You need to stay quiet until this blows over.

[22:17] You have seven (7) missed voice calls from Lee MinMark.

[22:18] Boss Manager sent a message.

Come to the office tomorrow. We need to have a talk.

[22:19] Lee MinMark sent a message.

Fuck it. I’m coming over.

[22:20] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message. 

hyung’s coming over to you!

[23:07] Boss Manager sent a message.

Stay calm and be safe.

Your ears perk up when multiple knocks come from the door, fast and more urgent one after the other, turning into rapped jabs at the wooden surface. It soon turns into outright banging and your phone falls down to the carpeted floor below at the sound. You’re raising yourself up on shaky feet, slowly reaching out to grab the emergency bat beside the door and tiptoeing to peep through the fish eye door camera you installed for emergencies like this.

The door bursts open and you’re yelping, swinging the bat blindly at the unknown person in your home. “It’s me! It’s me! It’s Mark!”

“Mark? Are you out of your mind!?” The bat mistakenly hits Mark on his shoulder, him letting out a groan and kneeling down while clutching his injured shoulder. “I’m sorry! Oh My God. Are you okay?”

The door shuts with a soft click while Mark’s still bent down in front of him, promptly groaning when the wood catches on his shirt. You’re shuffling around, running to the freezer for an ice pack to help your boyfriend. The ice is cold in your hands, the material numbing your fingers as you press it down onto his injury.

“Are you okay?”

“How are you?”

You break out into a fit of giggles while Mark lets out a few chuckles, the both of you stilling for a moment before you tear of his cap and mask, revealing the face of your boyfriend. The bags around Mark’s eyes have worsened since the last you saw him, along with the obvious stress lines on his face and frizzy hair from too much hair dye as an added plus.

The dorm is still as silent as ever, this time the sounds of slurping noodles are added to the mix along with the sound of chattering news outlets on TV. Your eyes are wrapped around Mark’s neck as you sit in his lap, head laying in the crook of his shoulder as he works one his hands around your waist while the other sets down the cup of noodles on the desk beside him.

“How are you doing?” He mumbles, lips finding their way to your forehead to leave a peck in place. “About the dating thing.”

“I’m fine.” Your eyelids are starting to droop, the warmth Mark emits adding to the stressful situation makes you want to fall asleep and forget all your worries, even just for a little while. You lean back, eyes flicking up to meet his when he nods as an answer. “How about you?”

“What do you mean?” Mark’s eyes are a soft brown with a tint of gold to them, holding specks of stolen sunlight in them, the kind that you’d miss just with one glance. They’re filled with a raw emotion, an unwavering gaze that sometimes you find hard to meet, along with the earth’s unfiltered beauty that is so fascinating yet intriguing to memorize. “With the comeback? Babe?”

“I mean- yes, the comeback.” You laugh at the confused look at his face, his expression looking similarly like that of a confused puppy and you’re reminding yourself to change his names in your contacts. “But like- more of the me dating Jaemin news.”

“Oh” He mumbles, “I don’t really have an opinion on that..”

You’re tilting your head the moment he finishes his sentence. You know, for a fact, Mark’s never been one to back track on his words and you’re sure the way he spoke sounded more of like a question than it did a statement. “That’s good. I guess..”

“Are you staying the night?”

Mark’s head shoots up from its resting point in the crook of your neck, and he’s staring at you with a look of wonder in his eyes that had you ducking from his gaze, mouth stretching into a shy smile as you see a smile spread on his.

“You just had a dating scandal spread about you and your best friend,” He laughs, “But you still want me to stay over? I really am glad I’m dating you.”

Mark’s hands are pinching at your cheeks, his hands stretching the supple flesh while he scrunches his nose. Your own are entangled behind his neck, tugging the hairs on the nape of his neck with a scrunch of your own nose. It was moments like these that made you fall in love with Mark, the dorky boy that had his nose pressed up against glass, watching a thunderstorm and laughing. As an idol yourself, you found Mark most beautiful not when he had full on make up, but when he didn’t. You fell in love with him when he was lying on the carpet, hair a mess, laughing about something he saw on the internet. When he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and had taken down all the walls he built for most people.

Six months in and all you knew was that Mark’s your muse, the one you write songs about, and the one who holds your heart.

Mark opens his eyes to the sound of your phone humming lowly and you asleep with his arms around you. He’s reaching his arm for the phone slowly in hopes he doesn’t wake you up from his movements.

You have 3 new messages.

[3:07] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message.

mark hyung went over to yours a few hours ago and he hasn’t come back yet

[3:07] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message. 

is he over with you?

[3:08] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message.

lovie, answer your phone please :(

A scoff comes out from Mark’s mouth the moment his eyes land on the nickname Jaemin specifically has for you. Even before the dating news broke out, Mark’s always been a bit jealous of you and Jaemin’s bond, the people around him always thinking Jaemin’s the one who stole your heart. Jaemin, the one who’s been by your side and who knows you the best, Na Jaemin and not Mark Lee.

You have 5 new messages.

[3:09] You have one (1) missed call from “Lover” Boy Nana.

[3:10] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a voice mail.

[3:11] You sent a message to “Lover” Boy Nana.

Stop messaging MY girlfriend at 3 AM, Na.

Tapping sounds fill the air as Mark turns off your phone before placing it somewhere behind him, he’s looking down at you to make sure he hasn’t woken you up and he’s smiling at the sight of you sleeping on his chest. Mark’s putting his hands under your feet, lifting you up bridal style to place you on your bed. He’s tucking you in when your hands grab at the front of his shirt.

“Don’t leave,” You mumble, “Stay, please.”

“You know I can’t.” Mark’s bending down to press a kiss onto your forehead, cheeks warming when he sees you unconsciously smile in your sleep. Even when he wishes he could spend the night snuggled up with you, he doesn’t want you to get into more trouble than you already have. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”

The room is engulfed in darkness the moment Mark’s fingers touch the lamp, his footsteps echoing just a bit before disappearing completely once the door clicks shut. He’s crouching down to throw out his used ramen bowl into the trash can in the kitchen, hands multitasking as he also picks up his hat and mask from the desk.

Mark’s looking back to the direction of your bedroom while he puts his mask on, fixing the hat onto his head. The image of your slightly messy bedhead and cute pout appears in his head and he’s shaking his head, lips parting to let out a chuckle. “One day, they’ll know about us.”

The sun’s rays wake you up from your sleep, groaning at the light that hits your eyes. Your joints and muscles protest when you sit up in bed, wanting nothing but to go back to sleep. Your legs hit the floor, slightly trembling when you feel the cold wood in contrast to your warm temperature, and you’re walking out of your room in search of your boyfriend and your phone.

The dinging from the kitchen catches your attention and you make a beeline for it, doing a slight victory dance when you find your phone on the kitchen counter right next to some chocolate you’re sure you didn’t have yesterday.

You have new messages.

[3:11] You sent a message to “Lover” Boy Nana.

Stop messaging MY girlfriend at 3 AM, Na.

[3:12] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message. 

omo omo hyung no need to be so grumpy

[3:12] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message. 

im just “dating” her not  d a t i n g  her

[3:13] “Lover” Boy Nana sent a message. 

come back to the dorms before manager realizes you’re gone

[3:14] You sent a message to “Lover” Boy Nana. 

yeah yeah omw

[3:39] Lee MinMark sent a message. 

I’m sorry I didn’t stay over! Don’t want you getting in more trouble

[3:40] Lee MinMark sent a message. 

Good night, and I love you.

[7:45] Boss Manager sent a message. 

Meeting at 10. Don’t be late.

The smile that spreads on your face is automatic and the giddiness feels like a wake up call from your previously still drowsy self. Your fingers work nimbly, tapping out words to text Mark before a text arrives just before you sent it.

You have new messages.

[8:13] Lee MinMark sent a message. 

“I fought my eyes

to stay awake.

No dream

was prettier

than the way she slept.”

[8:13] You changed Lee MinMark’s name to Lion Cub.

[8:13] You sent a message to Lion Cub.

I knew you were jealous!

[8:14] Lion Cub sent a message.

Good morning to you too. Sleep well?

[8:14] You sent a message to Lion Cub.

I did! Would’ve been better with you next to me tho :(

[8:14] You sent a message to Lion Cub.

Also that poem is just ugh :(

[8:23] You sent a message to Lion Cub.

Mark? Where did you go?

[8:25]  Pwark Ji-Ji sent a message.

mark hyung banned me from texting you for a week :(

[8:25]  Pwark Ji-Ji sent a message. 

why is he like this :(

[8:25]  Pwark Ji-Ji sent a message. 

so mean :(

[8:26]  Pwark Ji-Ji sent a message.

this is nana btw! hyung’s taking a shower rn and jisung let me borrow his phone eheh

[8:26]  Pwark Ji-Ji sent a message.

no, actually i lied. i stole it from him

[8:26]  Pwark Ji-Ji sent a message.

have a good day, lovie!! ill see you later at that meeting (mark hyung doesnt know btw eheheh)

[8:26] You sent a message to Pwark Ji-Ji.

You’re horrible, Na! Give sungiie his phone back :(

[8:26] You sent a message to Pwark Ji-Ji. 

See you later!! (Also, hi sungiie!!)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Dragon Egg (Parts 4-6)

Long post because I neglected uploading for a few days. For @secrettunnelatla

It is all about fibs and careful twists. Change a few names and situations and suddenly Ozai is just a nameless man. A vague set of lyrics and verses on a page. A collection of words that shape the story of an abuser and his victim.

It is all the easier, picturing Zuko as the victim. Surely it can’t be her. Father treats her well; he has given her this recording studio. He has rewarded her for her three new singles with a newer car. He has given her nothing but praise for surprising him with so many new songs all at once.

Father buys her so many new stage outfits and lets her pierce her tongue and decorate it with genuine ruby. She has everything. He loves her. He is proud of her. It is only a hiccup, a lapse in judgment when he shows anything but affection. It is the alcohol that makes him smash the windows on her car. She doesn’t remember what he did it for but she knows that it was the alcohol because he has a brand new car waiting for her the next day.

And she drives it to Seicho’s house to deliver her birthday present. She will open the box and find a skateboard and tickets to see her show. Seicho is a delight and a somber presence all at once. In many ways, she reminds Azula of TyLee and that stings.

Sometimes she misses TyLee. Misses that sweet smile. Misses playing make believe in her backyard. Once upon a time, TyLee was going to be her drummer and they were going to tour from nation to nation in a bus with diamond studded tire caps. Once upon a time, she, Mai, and TyLee were going to be the rock trio that the world wouldn’t be able to forget.

And once upon a time, Mai decided that she liked Zuko more and TyLee decided that she liked Mai more. Zuko always had been the more lovable of the two. But Azula is the more successful. She has made a promise to herself that they would regret abandoning her for him when her faces is everywhere and Zuko is a sellout.

Seicho invites her inside, her friends are already there, a girl named Song, a girl named Jin, and a younger boy named Hide.

“Have a slice of cake or a whack at the pinata.” Seicho offers. She holds out a bat, wrapped with skull patterned duct tape and studded with nails. “You can have the first swing.”

Azula is sure that it would only take one good swing for the nails to shred the pinata. “I’ll have a slice of cake. I can’t stay for too long. I have a show.” There is a part of her, a very large part of her that wants more than a taste of this world. A simpler world where goals and aspirations aren’t make or break. “But I had to drop this off for you.”  The skateboard in the box is expensive, it is more than enough to make up for not being able to stick around for the party.

Seicho’s face falls and Azula tells herself that it is only because she hasn’t unwrapped the gift yet. She knows that the smile is forced when she replies, “thanks, Azula. Maybe you can join us next year.”

Regret doesn’t hit her in full until she has already stepped back into her car. By now it would only be rude to change her mind and ring the doorbell again. Maybe this is why it was so easy for TyLee to choose Mai and for Mai to choose Zuko; she tends to choose her career over companionship.

She promises herself that after Audio of Agni, she will make more time for social obligations.

.oOo.

The stage doesn’t quite have its thrill tonight. The energy itself is excitedly frantic, vibrant with enthusiasm but it doesn’t quite reach Azula. It doesn’t matter, she is good at pretending. She knows what she is supposed to feel like--she has felt it before when the band was brand new, when Mai and TyLee were her backup vocalists.

So she emulates the vibe she is supposed to give off. She pretends like the crowds cheers and shouts and claps mean everything. She pretends like their liveliness gives her life too. Pretends like she can feel the music in her body and soul the same way everyone else does. But she only feels empty.

Empty and alone. A disorienting feeling when she is looking upon more faces than she can count.

All the while she sings lyrics that make her stomach squirm and her heart ache. If her father knew that he is the inspiration behind them, she’d have another song to write.

She doesn’t understand why singing these songs hurts so much. She is singing about Zuko and her father, not about she and her father. Or maybe she isn’t singing about her father at all, but a nameless father and his nameless child. Hell, it can be a mother too. Just a vague musical rendition of a dreadful parent who is merely neglectful on a good day.

It dawns upon her that she is the victim that she sings of when she finds herself getting teary on that stage. They think that it is part of the act. They think that she is a stellar actress on top of a damn good lyricist.

She doesn’t correct them. The only thing that sells more than sex is sorrow.

Things change after that. There is more attention, more interviews, more magazine photoshoots, and more simmering resentment from From Ashes To Phoenix. She basks in the limelight and relishes in Zuko’s envy. And with the spotlight shining so brightly, she can no longer see the darkness that had helped put it on her.

****

Seeing her on TV is hell. Even when she isn’t right in front of him, flaunting her riches, talents, and everything he could have had, she is still able to mock him.

These days, he can’t escape her. She is everywhere; on the radio, on the magazines, on the TV, and on posters. He even sees her in the hallways of Caldera Capital High. He sees her there, though she has been pulled out months ago for a private education tailored to her personal schedule. It is just one more thing for him to envy. He has to manage his band and school, of course his progress is slower. Sometimes stunted altogether.

And for his troubles he averages C’s and D’s--B’s if he is lucky--and music that is half done and not nearly what he had imagined in his mind. He knows that he is going to have to make a choice and he thinks that he has begun to make that choice a few months back. He has lost track of how many times he has stayed after class to discuss his grades. He wonders how uncle will take to him dropping out. Should he turn in the forms that are tucked away in his backpack and seal the deal there won’t be any turning back. He will have to make it big. It will be his only chance.

A gaggle of fangirls fawning over the brooding lonewolf with the choker and black nailpolish can only take him so far. It doesn’t leave the hallways. But he does, he evades the teachers and hall monitors and climbs his way onto the roof. Mai is already there, he can see the smoke trail.

“Want one?” She offers.

“I’ll take a drag from yours.”

Mai passes the cigarette. “Have you told your uncle yet?”

He takes his drag and passes it back. “No.”

Mai gives a little hum. “Make a decision and commit, Zuko. Either you tell your uncle that you’re dropping out or start hustling to fix your grades. You have to succeed somewhere.”

He flinches. She sounds all too similar to Azula. She sighs. “Sorry. I just worry about you, Zuko. Indecisiveness is going to ruin you if you let it.”

There are a lot of things that are going to ruin him if he lets them. To some degree he thinks that he is already ruined. That he should just fester in the failure. “I could use another drag.”

“Sure.” Mai replies.

He takes his drag and watches the smoke curl up to the mid-afternoon sky. Mai leans back with her hands behind her head.

“What are you doing up here, Mai?” He asks. “You can actually pass your classes, why are you letting me drag you down?”

“Zuko, I’ve never felt more...up. Sometimes I just need to get out of there.” She spares a glance to the door. “It’s suffocating and smells like cheap perfume and testosterone. I smoke at least a cigarette a day, gym class is pointless anyways.”

He chuckles. He feels right when he is on the roof with her. When he is with her in general. Pessimistic as she nihilistic as she is, he feels the most hopeful when he is with her. Even if it is just for a moment, Azula’s shadow doesn’t envelop and shroud him. Even if it is just for a moment, he can forget about she and her antics and everything her overachieving has helped steal from him. Even if it is just for a moment he can see, truly envision and believe in a reality where he strums his guitar before an arena full of adoring, audio hungry fans.

He makes a decision, he is going tell uncle that high school isn’t for him. That he is meant for...that he deserves better things. As the sun reaches its zenith, he decides that he will truly work for his dream.

****

The darkness floods right back in when she is away from the stage. When the lyrics that echo through the venue become a reality. She doesn’t know exactly what she has done. Maybe she has done nothing at all. He very well may just be in a bad mood. She is texting Seicho when he enters. “Hello father.” She greets with a smile.

He returns it with a blank face and folded arms. “What is this?” He slaps a piece of paper onto the table. He nods for her to read it over.

“It’s a…” she knits her brows, “a printout of our ticket sales.” She looks up from the paper. “What’s wrong with it?”

“How many tickets were sold for the first show?”

“It was sold out.”

“What about all of last week’s shows and the week before that?”

“Sold out.” She says again.

He nods. “Yes, sold out. What about last night’s show?”

Azula swallows, “1,684.”

He drums his fingers on the table. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

She thinks that it could be a lot of things; that night had also been the night of the high school homecoming baseball game, people might have been short on cash, the time slot had been a tad earlier than usual. All of these answers seem like excuses--she should have a performance more compelling than baseball, she should have had a performance with spending money on, she should have pushed for a more favorable time slot. “It was a smaller venue.” She says at last much.

Wrong answer.

“I was selling out all of my shows.” He slaps the page and she flinches. “These aren’t metal legend numbers, they aren’t even Audio of Agni numbers.”

She wants to point out that he probably hadn’t been selling out all of his shows when his band had been as young as hers is. Instead she very quietly promises, “I’ll do better, father.” She must and she will because he is right. Only 1,684 tickets sold in a venue that could hold 2,000 people? That is embarrassing.

“Maybe if you weren’t fooling around with that tattoo artist… you won’t be seeing her anymore”

“Wh-what?” She sputters. “No, that’s not it! Seicho isn’t a distraction!” She realizes too late that she has gotten too loud.

She closes her eyes and tenses for the strike that is sure to come. When it doesn’t she cracks an eyelid. He hasn’t even closed the distance between them. She allows herself to relax. It is only then that his hand snakes out and finds her cheek.

Reflexively her own hand comes to rub it. She bites the sides of her cheeks and swallows down the cry that is waiting to come up. More than anything she hates knowing that she has failed him. That she has disappointed him. These moments are few and far between, she makes sure of that. But they are still there and she has just given herself one more ill mark. Has put herself one step closer to ending up like Zuko. “I’ll do better.” She says again when she finds the words.

It was never like this before. She glares at the empty bottles. It was never like this--he used to love her. She used to be is gleaming little star. He would yell at her, sometimes until his face went red, but he has never hit her before. She looks at the bottles, but it might be that she has finally made enough mistakes for him to see her as a splendid failure instead of his rising rockstar.

She takes out her phone and taps the screen a few times before holding it up, “see no more distractions. I deleted her number.” She forces a smile. “I needed to focus on memorizing my new material anyways.”

At last he returns the smile. The tightness in her chest slackens, giving way to an optimistic and relieved fluttering in her tummy. He ruffles her hair, “that’s my girl.” He gives her a small hug. “I should know better than to doubt you.” He smells so strongly of booze.

But she has satisfied him. She is still is gleaming little star.

[long-bodyswap]

Yotta Life

(Im sorry I don’t have the credits, but if you know the author you can @)

It’s been an adjustment lately getting used to all this fame and attention since Adele’s new album came out.  The whole world knew it would be huge, but even the most optimistic among us couldn’t have imagined that it would have the best selling first week sales of any album in history!  With massive, iconic numbers like that, it was only natural that she would need more security while she goes on her whirlwind press promo, and I’m the best in the business- ermmm- I mean technically my host, Peter Van der Veen is the best in the business, but it’s not like anyone could tell the difference since the spell I used gave me access to all of his memories, training, and personality traits.  No one has suspected a thing, and I’ve been inside Peter since he was Lady Gaga’s bodyguard!Possessing the top bodyguard for the stars has been a dream come true because I’ve met and spent time with almost all of my idols.  Gaga is much more normal in private than people give her credit for, but my favorite client so far has been Adele, BY FAR.  Never have I ever met such a witty, sweet, funny as shit, monumentally talented, and down to earth person.  Rumor has it she used to be quite the drinker before she had her baby, but every now and then she’s whipped out a little reward for the road with her team, meaning I was naturally drawn into the fun.  IIt’s been simply remarkable getting to know Adele and honestly consider her a friend.  She’s so honest and personable that I catch myself shifting out of Peter’s stern persona, dropping sass and giggling to her jokes.  I remind myself often that it’s only acceptable around Adele, but anyone who had previously known Peter would be immensely suspicious.  Still, it’s been the single most meaningful (and lucrative) gig I’ve ever done. You can see that I try my hardest to remain stern and serious.  It’s so hard because even her commentary during casual conversation is adorable and hilarious enough to make a stone gargoyle let out a good chuckle.  Sometimes it honestly is too much and I can’t help but smile and join in the silliness.  It’s comforting at least to know that Peter’s smile looks so fucking sexy- almost as sexy as his stern smolder.  

The bulk of the promo circuit ended in December so now that it’s January 2016, I finally have some time to myself.  Adele thanked me profusely for my service and friendship and begged me to free up my schedule so I could join her when her tour starts in April.  I promised her I’d lock in the dates, but it’s going to be nice to have some time to have fun behind closed doors…At the very least it’ll be nice to show off this body.Fuck, what a great day.  I’m rocking this perfect bronze and I can finally show off this sculpted body.  I work ridiculously hard to keep it up to Peter’s standards, but it’s so worth it.  Peter’s body looks sexy as hell in a suit, but it was meant to be seen and envied by others.  And the Adele gig was so lucrative that I’m set to be enjoying the next four months shirtless and glistening at this Mexican resort.  I used this morning to do a power workout of sprints and chest interval training in a nearby canyon, and then I rewarded myself with a nice afternoon spent relaxing at the beach.Peter’s sore muscles always made me horny for some reason, which meant that I was on edge almost all day every day…I didn’t mind though.  It reminded me of how powerful and full of my vitality my host was.  What I did mind though was burning in this hot sun.   Noticing a cute boy eyeing me, I saw an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.  The adorable fucker looked about my real age, but way better looking, not that that mattered since I was inhabiting Mr. Europe 2005.  Being bisexual, I’ve been able to use Peter’s body to anonymously fuck around with hotties from all over the world, but I’ve gotta say I’ve developed a strong preference for boys, so let’s test the waters and see if this kid wants a taste of the premier bodyguard to the stars.“Hey, kid.” I said in a deep, yet friendly tone.  “You got a sec to help me out with something?”  I made sure to flash him a subtle smile, also pulling my shades down so he could see the twinkle in my beautiful eyes.   It only took me a second to realize I had him hook, line, and sinker.That big smile was one thing, but I had also completely stopped him in his tracks.  He was walking back over to me without a single hesitation. “What can I do for you?” The chap asked with a friendly tone that was masking what I, after maaaanyy similar encounters, knew was lust.“You see, I’m going to start burning soon, so could you help me with a fresh layer of sunblock?”He kept his jaw from dropping, but I knew he was shocked and ecstatic.   “You mean, on your back?” He asked, treading cautiously.“Actually, I was hoping you could help me with the whole thing,” I said, pointing out my sculpted chest and abs before biting my lip in a fake show of nervous anticipation.  

The boy paused to think for a second before smiling again and walking over.  “Sure, I’d love to help out,” he said in a  way that tried to make it sound like he was just doing a normal favor for a stranger.  

I grinned in relief before putting my shades back on and getting out my tube of sunblock.  I laid down, making sure to get comfortable before I took a second to adjust my junk since I was about a quarter hard from the sheer testosterone pumping through my veins.  

“Sorry about that,” I said before getting relaxed again.  “Had a brutal workout this morning.  Always gets the testosterone flowing, if you know what I mean.”“I could tell you had a good workout this morning.  You’ve got the pumped look.  Maybe you can share some workout tips- I’m trying to bulk up, but it’s been kinda hard.”“Son, you don’t need to add a single pound of mass.  The lean look is really sexy on you.”  I said that right as he popped the cap open, making him blush before he squeezed a healthy helping of that cream into his hands.  

“That’s easy for you to say,” he said before slathering that cream on my abs.  I shivered and gasped from the cold, tightening my core from the surprise, but he kept talking.  “Especially when you have a body like this.”As far as I could tell, he had no idea who I was, so it was safe to see if I could push his buttons a little.As he spread the cream over Peter’s ripped abs, I quietly moaned from the feeling of those smooth fingers rubbing that coconut scented goodness into my stolen skin.  The look on this boy’s face was one of inner conflict.  He didn’t know if he should go a little further, but he finally got my subtle hint and began rubbing me more purposefully until he was giving my abs a slow and deep massage.  

“You have…so much definition,” he marveled as he worked his strong fingers more and more expertly.   “mmmmmmm that feels so good, kid.  Guess you could tell that yesterday was ab day,”  By this point his constant touch had me more than half hard.  He definitely noticed my long and thick cock growing in my shorts, but he didn’t back away.  He started massaging me even more purposefully, sensually even.  Damn, this kid had some kink in him.  

“And I’d bet money you did a chest day today,” he said slowly and smoothly as he began working his magical hands up to my muscular slabs of pec perfection.  I moaned louder this time as he worked his hands up to my chest so he was grabbing a pec with each hand, squeezing firmly enough to loosen up those stiff muscles.  He squeezed harder, massaging my sore chest and making me groan in a mix of ecstasy and agony.  I was shocked though as he, without stopping his deep tissue chest massage, began to gently flick and rub my nipples with his thumbs.  I inhaled deeply, feeling my cock twitch and continue to engorge as this boy worked Peter’s incredibly sensitive nipples.  My breathing picked up, getting slightly faster before this kid made his big move.  I gasped loudly as he leaned down and began sucking on one of my nipples before reaching the other hand down to rub my cock through my shorts, making it pulsate and swell to full hardness.  

“Unnnngggg,” I groaned as I looked down at this cutie with thick, bushy eyebrows give in to his hunger for cock, specifically my cock.  I gasped again as he gripped my cock through the shorts, feeling the thickness of my girth and the obvious length before smiling, apparently satisfied with Peter’s thick 8.5 inches.   “If you wanted me, you should have just said so,” he whispered seductively into my ear.  

I knocked the big tube of sunscreen onto the sand before grabbing him and pulling him on top of my powerful chest, enjoying the weight of his body against my greased up chest.  I brought my mouth to his and he eagerly opened as I locked our lips and brought our tongues into a dance of lust.  Fuck, he tasted so minty.  My rock hard cock pulsated as I humped my crotch up against his, feeling his hard dick rub back against mine as I let us get lost in the lust.   FInally breaking the kiss, I told him, “I have a room,” barely having the breath to make the sentence.  He just smiled before we made a mad dash to pick up our shit and cover our raging hard ons as we ran back to the hotel.   I woke up the next morning alone int he bed except for a little note that had a phone number and the name Zac.  Man, last night was crazy.  I mean, I’ve done some kinky shit with Peter’s body, but I think I blew four of Peter’s loads into that boy last night.  Yeah, there was the load when I was fucking him doggy style.  Then another when I was fucking him missionary.  The third one was when he was riding me.  mmmmm, the last one was my favorite.  I pinned that kid against the wall with my strong arms and bounced him up and down off my powerful thrusts until I finally blew that last load so deep inside him.  On that one things got so intense.  Zac was hollering and almost hyperventilating my cock made him feel so good.  He didn’t even touch his dick that time since he was scratching at the wall the whole time, but his cock still blew a load all over the two of us.  That was about when I hit my limit.  I remember roaring so loud I thought the walls were vibrating before finally, dripping in sweat and muscles and veins bulging all over my body, I blew all of the remaining cum in Peter’s balls so deep into that boy.  When I calmed down, I carried the boy back to the bed and we both laid there making out and squirming from the afterglow of our orgasms before passing out from our multi-hour fuckfest.  

I smirked as I thought to myself how this would be my life for the next four months.  I got up and walked over to mirror, admiring my boxer-clad vessel, still just as high off of the beauty of this stolen body as I was two years ago when I first took Peter over.  

“You’re one sexy man,” I said to the reflection before winking.  God damn, seeing Peter’s body respond to my actions was still so satisfying.  I felt a fluttery sensation deep in my gut before blushing from the sight of the sexy body in front of me.  Mmmmmm yeah, Peter might be a strong and tough man, but I can always make him do whatever I want because he’s powerless with me inside.  

“Don’t ever forget that you’re too weak to resist me.  You couldn’t do a thing to stop my soul from slipping inside you and stealing you,” I taunted his reflection as I leaned his head down to his pit and huffed in his manly sweat and stench from yesterday’s workout and fuckfest.  

“You smell like a real man,” I said with appreciation before I stripped off the boxers and brought them up to my face which instantly scrunched up into one of ecstasy, huffing in the crotch area, almost coughing from the power of the manly muskiness.  It was so fucking masculine and sexy, and it always got me hard.“That turns you on doesn’t it, you kinky queer?” I asked his reflection before I brought my lips to the mirror and pretended to make out with Peter.  My heart sank though as the cold glass reminded me that I was on the other side.  Sure, I could take over some other stud for a night and use my powers to mind control Peter into having a wild night of passion, but it takes me a lot of time to build up the energy to switch, so I only like to switch sparingly.  I need at least three months to build up the necessary energy, so I don’t use the gift for casual flings.  No.  It’s a commitment, so the stolen life has to be perfect.  I stayed in Peter for the last two years because life has been so perfect, but it would be nice to finally feel and taste his body from the other side…Still, I’d need to find the perfect body and life in the next week or two in order to have enough time to get back inside Peter in time for Adele’s tour.  I guess I’ll just have to wait until after the tour…My frustration built, and I decided to take it out on Peter.  Even though I knew he was blacked out, I liked to pretend he was aware of everything when I got mad.  Grabbing his semi-hard cock, I pumped it until I got it back up to full hardness, watching myself make angry, yet sexy and turned on faces in the mirror as I pumped myself mercilessly.  

“Yeah!  You like that you queer slut?!  I’m gonna make you eat every drop of this cum!  unnnnngggggggg it’s gonna taste so fucking good, you fag!  Who’s the tough guy now, you freaky fag?  Can’t believe a tough guy like you is gonna eat your own load like some queer cum whore!”  God, this always made me feel so turned on and so much better.  I was getting close to orgasm when the phone rang.  I instantly clicked ignore, but it started ringing again.  I growled as I clicked ignore a second time, but the damn phone rang a third time.  Cursing, I let go of Peter’s cock and switched to his professional voice as I answered the phone.  

Even though I was initially annoyed, I was so glad I picked up the phone.  Smiling from ear to ear, I listened to a very special new client ask for my services over the next three and a half months.  Apparently he needed extra security for his wife, so tomorrow I would be on an early morning flight to Beverly Hills.  My vacation wasn’t over, it was just moving to another locale…and I’d finally have the chance to taste Peter’s lips and mouth from another perspective.Fuck, I was so excited I went back to pumping Peter’s cock.  I ate his load, this time to celebrate!  Now it’s time for me to get cleaned up, buy tickets, and pack!It was so lucky to get that call from Bastian Gillmeier, or Bastian Yotta as the media and instagram know him.   couldn’t help but enjoy one more early morning walk in Peter’s body, happily flaunting his muscles as I left shirtless and enjoyed the feeling of the breeze on his skin.  But then I checked his watched and realized how late I was.  

“Shit!  Better get back and shower.  Gotta get to the airport.  Damn, I won’t even have time to yank out one last load!”   I quickly cleaned up and called for a cab, and before I knew it I had checked in and boarded my plane en route to Beverly Hills.  Still, I was frustrated by this libido and the desire, no, the NEED to feel Peter’s cock be relieved one last time.  It was one of those rare flights where it was barely at half capacity, and somehow I was the only one in the first class section.  This airline was my favorite too because instead of thin curtains separating first class from economy, there were actual doors, affording me a much greater sense of privacy.  Still, I didn’t feel comfortable pumping a load out with that cute flight attendant around.  With me being the only client, he was checking on me practically every ten minutes, and I wanted to make this last.  I thought about going in the lavatory, but there was something so nasty and classless about that.  No.  I guess I’d need to test the sensibilities of this handsome flight attendant. Maybe he could even help me out.  

I looked behind me and predictably saw him waiting there with a puppy like grin, waiting to please me.   “Would you like another drink, sir?”I flashed him an enticing grin as I thought pensively.   “That does sound refreshing,” I remark as I subtly relax in my seat, getting more comfortable and spreading my legs just a little.   “Another barcardi and coke?”“I don’t know.  I’m craving something a little different.  I’m just so on edge.  I could really use something to help me unwind,” I say breathy as I rub my hands in between my thighs and groan lightly.   This boy gulps loudly, nervously adjusting his tie.  “W-w-well…We have mojitos.”“No…that’s not what I want…” I say with a husky tone as I look him directly in his eyes, licking my lips while I rub my host’s crotch, groaning slightly more loudly as I feel this meat starting to get hard and strain within the confines of its denim prison.  

“Sir!  This is inappropriate!  I’m going to need to ask you to-”“Shut up and touch it.  I know you want to.  Your cock can’t lie to me.   “SIR.  If you don’t stop I’m going to have to-HUH?!” he gasped as I grabbed a hold of his arm and yanked him close to me.He was speechless from the shock as I pulled him onto my lap, keeping him firmly locked in my grip thanks to Peter’s strong muscles as I went to work grinding my tented crotch against his backside and reaching my hand around to begin rubbing his engorging cock.   “MMMMmmmmmmpppphhhhhhhhhhmmmmmnnngggggggg” he groaned through Peter’s big hand that was muffling his shouts.  

He squealed as I grabbed a firm hold around his rod, stroking and pumping him through his soft uniform pants, breathing hot on his neck as I whispered into his ear.   “You’re getting so horny, boy.  I can feel you getting hard in my hand.  mmmmmm a tasty boy like you is just the refreshment I needed.”  I followed by licking up and down his neck, making him gasp as shivers coursed their way up and down his spine.   “You liked that didn’t you?” I asked with a chuckle before experimenting and easing up my grip on his mouth.  

He took several deep breaths before slowly turning his head to face me.  It could have gone either way at this point as I saw the panic and indecision in his eyes.  But then the look in his eyes focused in and I knew he has made his decision.  

He lunged as he joined his mouth with mine, moaning loudly into my mouth as he wrestled his tongue past my lips and hungrily tasted me.  I needed to remind him who the big man was in this steamy moment, so I forced Peter’s tongue into this boy’s mouth, reveling in the pleasurable moans echoing into my mouth as I ferociously tasted my mile high slut.   Pulling back, he now had a look of hunger in his eyes.  “I-I’ve never done this before at work…”“It’s just the two of us in here.  No need to worry about anything.”He looked into my eyes briefly before biting his lip nervously.“Can I…taste it?” He asked with such anticipation in his eyes.   I just smirked at him.  “You think I’d say no to a hot mouth like yours?  Get to work, boy.”I closed my eyes, smiling with satisfaction as this boy crawled down onto his knees, no longer able to suppress his desire as he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down the zipper.  I lifted my butt up to help him as he pulled down my pants and drawers, letting this big fat cock spring out, slapping him lightly in the face as he gawked at my host’s unveiled meat.  

I shivered as he immediately went to work, grabbing me with one of his hands, pumping me softly as he wrapped his lips around the head, getting it nice and moist as he swirled his tongue around.  My fingers were trembling, and the sensation crashing through my cockhead, down to my groin and down my thighs was so powerful that I had to bite my lip and focus on gripping the armrests just to keep from shouting out.  This boy knew what he was doing, and he had just barely gotten started.  

I felt the veins on Peter’s muscles expand, letting an intense surge of blood-flow crash through every part of his body.  It was a euphoria like no other, and it only intensified as this mile high slut began bobbing his slick mouth up and down, up and down, picking up speed as he kept sucking that meat and swirling his tongue over all of Peter’s most sensitive spots.  I cringed and scrunched my face it felt so fucking good, but I didn’t want to make too much noise.  At this point though I think he was almost challenging me to give in and admit how good it felt.  He finally had his wish as he all of a sudden jolted his head down, swallowing every inch of my meat as he scooped both hands up my shirt and found my sensitive nipples.  

My eyes shot wide open as he began deepthroating me with ferocious speed, all while squeezing, twisting, and rubbing all over my massive pecs, and particularly, my tight and hard nipples.  My back arched violently as a loud groan finally escaped my lips.  I bit my lip though to shut myself up, scrunching my face up again and hyperventilating as this boy kept swallowing my entire length.  

I couldn’t have hoped for a better last orgasm in Peter’s body, but I still wanted it to be at least partially on my own terms.  Growling as I felt the testosterone levels in Peter’s body rising, I grabbed the boy’s head with both of my hand’s, getting no resistance from him as I began to pull him down onto my cock, harder and even faster than he was already going.  Mmmmmmm it felt so satisfying as I used Peter’s strong arms to pull that mouth and tight throat down onto his juicy meat.  Such a good throat fuck, but I couldn’t hold my hips back anymore, so it got even more intense.  I know I might have been going rough on the boy, but he wasn’t complaining as I started bucking my hips up, thrusting into his mouth and thrusting powerfully down his throat.  The boy kept squeezing my pecs and nipples, getting more intense as I added more and more power to my throat fuck.  My toes were curling in my shoes as I looked down at this hungry mile high slut, and seeing the desperation in his eyes finally sent me over the edge.  Groaning loudly, I slammed his mouth down onto one last powerful cock thrust after what had seemed like an eternity of building pressure in Peter’s massive balls.  With that thrust, my pent up load was finally free, releasing stream after stream directly down the hungry throat that was so expertly milking my cock.  I shivered as kept yanking his throat down onto each new ribbon of cum, milking out over a dozen shots before the stream finally slowed to mere droplets which we sucked straight out of me with that skilled mouth.  

Attention Passengers,  Please prepare for landing.  We will be arriving in approximately five minutes.  

“Damn, sorry boy.  I guess I don’t have time to return the favor.”He just smiled adoringly at me though.  “No, don’t be sorry.  That was-That was amazing!  I’ll be thinking about you and this later tonight.  This will be on my mind for the next month at the very least!”He gave me one more passionate kiss before he straightened his tie and uniform, giving me a sexy wink as he made the landing preparations, leaving me in my golden orgasmic bliss.  He was kind enough to point to my ankles though, reminding me my pants and boxers were still down, leaving my softening meat out for the world to see.  I quickly pulled my pants back up as we began the descent.  

I hopped in the cab at the airport, unable to contain my grin as I gave the driver the address of Bastian’s Beverly Hills mansion.  The cab driver wasn’t particularly talkative, so I sat in eager silence as I mentally prepared for my transfer and mini vacation from Peter’s body.  

The passing vistas and palm trees zoom by as I absentmindedly reach my hands underneath my shirt and begin rubbing and feeling Peter’s body.  I know I’ll be feeling this body from the other side, but I’ll miss the feeling of ownership and possession.  Something about feeling Peter Van der Veen’s abs and squeezing those massive pecs with his own strong hands was immensely satisfying.  Taking over strong men and making them my hosts…my vessels…will always be my drug of choice.  

“We’re here, Mister,” the taxi driver says, looking at me with an odd expression as I realize I’m still circling Peter’s hard nipples.  I swoop my hands out from under Peter’s shirt, unable to help but go a little red in the face as I awkwardly thank and pay the guy.  I pull out Peter’s wallet, so comfortable now seeing his ID and associating that image and identity as my own.  That’s when you know you’ve found a keeper, when you look at your host’s ID and instinctively think, “Damn, I look hella fine.” 

I tipped the guy well to mask the awkwardness and walked over to the front door, suitcases in tow.  There was a note on the front door telling me to come on in and meet my new employers in the back.  The note said to just keep on following the central corridor until I reached them.   Opening the door, I was blown away by the extravagance of this massive and modern mansion.  

“What a great place to vacation,” I said aloud to myself in shock as I plopped my bags on the marble floor, closed the door, and began the long walk down the central hallway.  I passed by massive living and entertaining rooms, all decked out with expensive art, impeccable decoration, and state of the art technology.  The kitchen and dining room was as large as most people’s whole apartments, and I think I walked passed a whole new set of entertainment and party/recreational rooms.  It was simply unbelievable, but I got pulled back to reality as I heard light moaning emanating from the last room at the end of the hall.  

The moaning was definitely deep, low, and masculine.  Judging by the videos I had watched during my research, I knew it was Bastian who was cooing and making those sweet sounds of pleasure.  I could hear him faintly egging on what I can only assume was his wife, Maria.  That accent was still distinctly German, and thought some people thought it was a little harsh, I shivered from its foreign and exotic appeal.  I had never taken over a foreigner before, so I wondered if I would have the joy of speaking with such a German flare.   I kept walking cautiously towards the moans, concerned that I was going to interrupt a particularly private and intimate moment.  Still, I advanced.  That’s one of the great things about Peter’s body.  I’m this massive tank of toned muscle, but he is so light on his feet.  I barely make a sound as I walk right up to the cracked door and slowly push it open as I walk inside.  

“Huh?” I asked aloud as I creaked the door open and saw Bastian, shirtless and laying down on a medical table as his wife performed a spa facial.  She was dressed and made up to the nth degree with her pink mini dress, pumps, and full make up while she massaged her husband’s face, working the active ingredients deep into his skin that would help maintain his youth.  He clearly found the experience very pleasurable as the sounds coming out of his mouth were almost orgasmic.  

“That must be you, Peter,” he said in his sweet German accent and without even opening his eyes.  

“We’re just finishing the last step,” Maria said with a smile as she spread the remaining moisture serum down his neck before clicking a button that brought the reclined medical table back up to a chair-like angle.  

Bastian finally opened his eyes as he smiled at me, happy to see that he had been able to afford my services.  My host was, after all, the most sought out bodyguard in Hollywood.  

“Maria, can you give us some time?  I need to show him the house and talk about the next three months.  Here’s some cash–go buy something pretty,” he said as he casually handed her a thick strap of hundred dollar bills.  She was almost giddy with joy as she collected the multi-thousand dollar wad of cash and left to go shop to her heart’s content at her favorite designer stores.   “Now, that frees up some time for just us guys,” he said with a cheeky grin as he got up off the table and put his shirt back on.  

This was going too perfectly.  I tried to suppress my own giddy grin as he began to show me around the house, when like he said, it was just us guys.

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 1: “SPRINT DREAM” (Complete)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen."

"Good Morning!"

A pure voice echoes through the Kendo hall of "Promotion Scepter 4".

Many remains of that remain, in the office that was created with the remodeling of the old Army facilities. The Kendo hall is one of them, and the idols belonging to "Scepter 4" sometimes take lessons there and other times hold their swords in their hands.

And at the beginning of the week, there was always an instruction from the president, the "Idol Blue King", Reisi Munakata.

Munakata makes a soft voice in front of the idols lined up in a "rest" position.

"By the way, this week is the biggest event of the year for my production, "Sprint". The "Dream Live Tour" will take place. I hope to have the encouragement of each member so that no preparation or lesson is neglected."

"Yes!"

The responses of the idols are not disturbed. More than an entertainment bureau, the closer rigor to the police or the military was due to the nature of representative Reisi Munakata, and it was also a feature of "Promotion Scepter 4".

The group's glasses glowed brightly, staring at an idol.

"But recently, I have received some concerns, Andy Domyoji-kun. Go ahead."

"Yes!"

Domyoji, who was called by name, screamed to death. From his normally cheerful face, blood is drawn in the blink of an eye.

Domyoji took a heavy step and stepped out in front of the superior.

There is no anger in Munakata's expression. A slight smile floats on the sleek face like a statue. That doesn't mean that Domyoji and the other idols were relieved that they didn't understand the superior.

It was a man named Reisi Munakata, who sentenced to death with a smile.

"Domyoji-kun. The other day, there was a report that you were 5 minutes and 27 seconds late for the entire "Gyumetai" lesson. Is this true?"

"Actually, that's…"

"What is an idol in "Promotion Scepter 4"?"

"Ah, idols aim to be the ideal humans who should become the norm for people..."

"Do you have your own excuse for being late, knowing that?"

"No, I'm sorry..."

Domyoji is drooling. It was like a prosecution and a defendant, but in this case it was a military trial rather than an ordinary court. The sentence is already decided from the beginning, and this exchange is only a ritual.

Munakata acts like he's convinced of something,

"Ok. Let's ask Domyoji-kun to do one of the highlights of the "Sprint Dream Live Tour", "Extreme solo part, Idol from above 6500~”."

"What?"

With a strange voice, Domyoji's expression was frozen in despair. Munakata smiles and touches his shoulder intimately.

"As you know, "Extreme Solo Part" is one of the most popular projects on "Countdown Dissolution, Shoumutai". This time it's a solo part while skydiving from an altitude of 2,000 meters, so his brave figure will be a great copy on the big screen."

"President, please! That's! Just forgive me!"

"What do you say? This is your chance to get more fans. And if you're at the mercy of your life, you won't be late for lessons."

Munakata treats Domyoji, who clings to his eyes, with a smiling smile. The idols are silently staring at the horrible sight.

"Kindness is called haste. Let's start the special training today. Akiyama-kun, Benzai-kun, please take him to the office to complete the procedure."

"Yes!"

The same members of the "Shoumutai", Himori Akiyama and Yujiro Benzai, grabbed Domyoji crying from both sides. Domyoji screams while ruffling his hair.

"Not! I don't like the "Extreme solo part"! Akiyama, Benzai, I am a posterity, so don't miss out!"

"Hold on, Domyoji."

"Oh. Get angry and train. Hopefully you won't die."

Domyoji was dragged out of the Kendo room.

When the door closed, Munakata saw the idols lined up. All the idols looked at Munakata with a better attitude than before.

Munakata says, looking at him with satisfaction.

"Don't be late either. As members of society and as idols who should be a human norm, please respect that."

"Yes!"

The voice of the idols who responded contained a desperate sound.

++++++++++

"Sorry, President! I can't make it on time!"

The driver's scream also contains a desperate sound.

As he listened to him in the backseat, Munakata gracefully reassembled his legs, put his hand to his jaw, and muttered, "Hmm."

"Sprint Dream Live Tour", first day, 4:52 pm.

Munakata's transport vehicle got caught in heavy traffic filling the road and got stuck at all.

Until the day before, Munakata was planning a large-scale live concert in London as part of the overseas expansion of "Promotion Scepter 4". The big picture and charisma of Reisi Munakata, the "Idol King", managed to shake up the stubborn management of the French entertainment world. A few hours ago he won a partnership and a contract in the EU and returned triumphantly to Narita airport.

From the transport vehicle, Munakata continued to instruct the "Sprint Dream Live Tour". Back home. Although he has a difficult schedule of immediate events, he does not have fatigue or mistakes. There was a figure like: the perfect idol king.

It was in the time after Sakura's exchange that the news of the accident and jamming arrived.

Fortunately, no one died, but traffic was completely paralyzed. A line of cars continues towards the horizon, and it takes 30 minutes to finally reach 100 meters. Literally, he was forced into a state of immobility.

If nothing is done, the big event that is approaching a few hours later, will expose the mistake that the "Idol King" will be late.

In such a critical situation, however, there was no impatience in Reisi Munakata's expression.

"Ok."

Munakata says cheerfully to the driver reflected in the rearview mirror.

"I understand the situation. Please, I'll get off at the next intersection."

"But it will take 30 minutes to get there and, according to traffic information, the situation is similar on the lower road."

"It doesn't matter. In the meantime, let's get ready."

Munakata took his PDA out of his pocket and made a call. Munakata's trusted deputy director responded with two calls. It's Awashima Seri.

"Where is he now, President?"

"Currently, we are targeting a four-way interchange. It will take about 30 minutes to get there. I am planning to get out of here."

"That is…"

Awashima groaned. Even if he can get off the four road interchange, it will take more than an hour from there to the location, regardless of the mode of transportation. Since the show started at 6:30 pm, arrival on time is desperate.

After a few seconds of silence, Awashima's voice regained its composure.

"I would like to review the song list. The current program is to start with the president's number at the same time the performance begins, but we will correct this to start from "Shoumutai" and put the president's turn as far back as possible."

"Rejected."

Munakata categorically blocked her.

“Changing the song list will cut the rhythm of the fans. As idols, we shouldn't give fans any kind of anxiety."

"However! If this continues…!"

"I will be on time."

"......"

Awashima lost the words.

He was not surprised by Munakata's recklessness. She knows more than anyone what kind of person Munakata is and what kind of idol he is. He's never the type to talk about the impossible and break the plan.

If Reisi Munakata says that he can do it, he certainly can do it even if all other humans can't.

The next time Awashima opened her mouth, there was a determined intention.

"So, President. Please give us instructions."

A satisfied smile reached Munakata's mouth.

And 30 minutes later.

As soon as all contacts were completed, the transport vehicle passed the toll booth.

The lower street was still full of cars. Since Munakata hated traffic, he analyzed the situation. Progress is not much different from high speed.

However, that is no longer relevant to Munakata.

Because this is the end of the transport vehicle.

When he got out of the vehicle, the driver's seat window was opened. The driver looks from there and says...

"President, I wish you good luck."

Munakata smiled calmly at the young driver.

"Yes. Please drive carefully and come back."

That said, the next moment, Munakata was on the run.

With a forward leaning sprint style, Munakata is steadily increasing in speed. He reached a row of cars that couldn't move like a tombstone, and finally couldn't see his back.

Even after that, the conductor continued to pour his longing eyes beyond the horizon where Munakata disappeared. Holding on his chest the driver's cap that he took off as a sign of respect.

++++++++++

That day, Kazumasa Hatanaka (19) was driving his favorite Hara Chari.

He is in an unprecedented mood because he was able to finish his work early. The construction company he works for has been working hard these days, but yesterday they calmed down and was able to pay him. Hatanaka, who worked especially hard, was allowed to return home as the president had a special plan that day.

Akemi Hatanaka (18), a heavy wife, waits at home. Just thinking about it will loosen the origin of Hatanaka. When he wondered if he could serve his beloved wife and a child he had yet to see, his tired body mysteriously strengthened.

(Oh, that's right. Should I contact her to get back to Akemi soon?)

Suddenly, Hatanaka took out his mobile phone while driving the Hara Chari. He tries to send a message to his wife using one hand to handle and one hand to write.

Was when…

"You…"

"Oh?"

Hatanaka was about to fall due to the noise surrounding his ears. The body, which was about to slalom, was held by an outstretched hand and returned to its original trajectory.

While running to Hatanaka's side, the bespectacled man yells in a soft voice.

"It is a violation of the Road Traffic Law to use a mobile phone while driving."

"Uh, oh, sorry."

“In addition, it has already exceeded the legal speed of motorized bicycles. Wear your helmet correctly. It is meant to protect your life."

"Ah, hey, uh, yeah, sorry."

Hatanaka, who was once feared for being a "Chitaka mad dog", simply admitted his guilt not because he understood the accuracy of the words of the man with the glasses. This is because he was upset and scared by Hara Chari's run and the appearance of a man running side by side on only his own feet.

The man with the glasses smiled at Hatanaka's stunned face.

"Okay. If you follow the law and try to drive safely, you won't make driving mistakes like you do now."

(No, no, I'm going to be mad now because you called me. Do you want them to tell you that driving safely is something like running at that speed?)

The word never left Hatanaka's mouth at last. The man with the glasses raised his hand slightly and said, "Excuse me, bye." and then sped up and disappeared from Hatanaka's sight.

Hatanaka was stunned as he slowed the Hara Chari to 30 km / h.

(Is that so? I wonder if the god of the road advised me...)

There is a yellow light ahead. It stopped at the stop line correctly where it would normally cut, and the director took control.

(From now on, I will drive safely.)

++++++++++

That day, Nami Sakai (6) looked at the giant tree with tears in her eyes.

A blue balloon is stuck in a tree branch. It was in the hands of Nami just a few minutes ago, and in the hands of her beloved grandmother ten minutes ago.

Nami felt like a treasure when she received the blue balloon from her grandmother's wrinkled hand. She would take it home, about 10 minutes on foot, and she rushed to show it to her mother, but she accidentally fell off.

The balloon, which was detached from Nami's hand, floated in the sky and was blown away by the wind. She got trapped in a giant tree.

The giant tree has a height of about 10 meters. The blue balloon got caught near the top. Even if she asked the adults who passed by to take it, they just laughed and shook their heads.

Can't she get it again?

Every time she thought about it, she was filled with regret, sadness and guilt, and it turned into tears and appeared in Nami's eyes.

When the tears were about to break, Nami suddenly noticed something approaching from a distant road.

(Eh?)

In her childhood thoughts, Nami makes such a judgment.

In fact, in the distance it was like a colored wind. If she thinks it were there, it is way ahead. Nami stared at the blue breeze, which flowed without shaking her side, for a while, forgetting her sadness.

Suddenly…

With that wind, the eyes met.

The moment she thought that, he was already in front of her. When he stopped, the wind was not the wind, but a grown man with glasses. The skin is white like a woman and the facial features are beautifully groomed.

For some embarrassed reason, Nami looked down at her toes. The voice of a kind man spills over her.

"Do you have any problem?"

Nami looks at the man.

When she looked into the eyes behind the glasses, she felt like she was being sucked into the deep sky.

Nami opens her mouth to be fascinated.

"I cannot do it."

The man looks at the balloon at the point. Nami looked away and turned down. She was sure this person couldn't do it, and like everyone else, he would laugh and say "Give up", she felt such disappointment in her small chest.

But the man said in a nonsensical tone.

"Please wait a bit."

The man was already kicking the ground when she turned her face away.

He clings to the trunk of the huge tree and climbs up when he's ready. He deftly found the dents and bumps that could be called a steps, and in the blink of an eye he reached the top and took the blue balloon in his hand.

Nami was looking at the man who came down the same way, her mouth hanging open.

"Here it is."

Although he offered her the balloon, she was unable to receive it for a time. Then, finally picking it up, she asked with all her courage.

"Oni-chan... what?"

If you translate those boring words into something that makes more sense, it would mean something like "That move was out of the ordinary, who are you?"

The man accurately grasped the meaning of the question, smiled a little,

"I am an idol."

He responded like this.

Nami didn't really understand what an "idol" was. She blinks and look at the man. With a smile on his face, the man reached into his pocket and handed Nami a card.

"If you grow a little, come see us live."

The words "Promotion Scepter 4, President Reisi Munakata" were written there.

Of course, Nami can't read the card. She doesn’t even know about the existence of a business card. However, she thought the blue-tinted card was beautiful. Blue was Nami's favorite color.

Nami finally remembered what she should say to the man who gave her something nice and got back what she wanted back.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome. Well, I'm going."

The man bowed, turned blue again, and ran down the road.

Nami won't forget him forever.

++++++++++

An hour after the start of "Sprint Dream Live", the heat in the Tsubakimon Dome was visibly increasing. At the same time as the entrance began, a group of fans flowed into the audience seats like a flood, and they began to furnish the place with posters, posters and items with each of the recommended men drawn. At the same time, fans are excited about the upcoming festival and are looking at the stage with shining eyes.

To meet that expectation, a scene similar to a battlefield was unfolding in the backyard of the stage.

"The president has arrived at Shikaido Station! We will move on to Sequence B!"

"The target has been set at point B! We will wait until the president picks it up!"

In the temporary monitor room with the sign "Headquarters for the execution of the president's return plan", a part of the backyard, reports were constantly being raised.

The purpose of this headquarters is to fully support the return of Munakata. The staff involved are elite to make the "return plan" successful, from organizing and contacting various locations, managing the schedule, passing on traffic information and understanding Munakata's current position.

In one of the compounds in the panel, his current position is always displayed by the Munakata PDA tracking system. Awashima asks the staff while looking at them with a tight gaze.

"What is the progress of the plan?"

"It is 2 minutes and 15 seconds late, but it is within expectations. Currently, the Sequence C execution unit is moving. We will get to Point C on time."

"So…"

Awashima occupies a small area and looks at the monitor.

The plan is going well. At this rate, he can be in time for the opening ceremony, even if it's at the last minute. Unless something unexpected happens.

"Deputy Director Awashima."

Awashima looks around in a loose voice, rolling her shoulders.

Fushimi Saruhiko was as if he was leaning against the monitor room door.

He is the star idol of "Promotion Scepter 4", which is the center of the popular "Shoumutai" unit. Many fans were fascinated by the lonely atmosphere, and about 30% of the customers who packed the dome today are looking for him.

Awashima opens her mouth as she calmly looks at Fushimi.

"Fushimi. You should be in the final stages of doing a "Dream Corps."

"If the president is late, there won't be any 'Shoumutai', right?"

Awashima's beautiful eyebrows drew a dangerous angle.

“The plan is on the right track. You do not have to worry about that."

Fushimi laughs. It was an annoying laugh.

"Isn't there a countermeasure in case we run out of the star? Do you really think he can pull it off?"

"What do you mean?"

Fushimi casually pulled his hand out of his pocket and tossed what he was holding to Awashima. Awashima takes it deftly.

It is a recording medium in the form of a micro card.

"If you don't, I will. I made a new list of songs. If the president is late, I will."

Awashima's expression becomes more and more pronounced in a throwing tone. She squeezes the recording medium and she says quietly.

"Do you think I will receive this?"

"If you don't need it, you can throw it away. I can't bear to expose ourselves to that person's mistakes."

Awashima quickly waved her arm and threw the recording medium back.

"President…"

Fushimi deftly accepts that which came back like a bullet. Awashima, looking at the stagnant eyes behind the glasses as if shooting.

"I will not make any mistakes."

"Sorry."

Fushimi shrugged slightly and went back to his place. Looking back at Awashima over his neck.

"Well, tell me if you need it."

With that alone, Fushimi left the monitor room.

Awashima stared at the monitor room door for a while, staring into his eyes. It's like doing it is a protest against Fushimi.

It's not that she doesn’t understand what Fushimi is saying.

Believing is different from believing blindly. Fushimi's view that he assumes the worst and take countermeasures is entirely correct.

However, Awashima did not receive that song list. She refused to even see it and turned around.

She felt that receiving it would be a distrust of Munakata, who had confirmed that he would be on time.

"The president has reached point C! Collection complete!"

"We have started to move! The plan is going well!"

Awashima muttered unknowingly, listening to the reports that came in one after another.

"President, be careful."

Those words were like a prayer.

++++++++++

That day, Yuri Yamazaki (26) was vaguely in front of Shikaido station.

She works in a product store managed directly by "Promotion Scepter 4". It was supposed to be closed today due to the shift, but she got an urgent call from her boss about 5 minutes ago. She had no particular plan, and she was quick to get to this point because she was drawn to a pretty good vacation assignment.

Anyway, Yuri thinks.

It was a strange call. Being with the bicycle in front of the station instead of the store.

Apparently, they told her to lend the bike to someone, but they did not tell him who to lend it to and only told her the time of the meeting. It would be profitable to get a vacation allowance on this alone, but Yuri checks her cell phone while deeply thinking that she would complain if she was forced to do something else.

Seeing the displayed time, she sighed.

The "Sprint Dream Live Tour" will begin soon. Like most idol shop clerks, she is a fan of “Promotion Scepter 4.” She decided to work at an idol shop because she loved idols.

However, just because she is an employee doesn't mean there are benefits. Controls in that area are tight, and the clerk who secretly secured her own live ticket was sometimes ill. She must take the ticket herself, and if the lottery is lost, the schedule may disappear from the vacation she got, just like the current situation.

Two minutes have passed since the specified time.

"I wonder... if he's late, can I contact him?"

She doesn’t know, the murmur leaks out. After 5 minutes, she will contact the store manager. Thinking of that, she suddenly looked up.

And she doubts her eyes.

Someone was running from the street in front of the station, at tremendous speed. He easily overtook the next bike and came closer. Yuri instinctively tried to back away.

However, when she saw the man's face, she doubted her sanity.

"Ah, President?"

What she unwittingly said was the nickname of Reisi Munakata, the representative of "Promotion Scepter 4" and "Idol King". Naturally, it spread from the case where the idols under his command called him "President."

Faced with the stiff lily, Munakata strode over to a halt. He exhales a little and smiles at Yuri.

"Excuse me, are you a store clerk?"

"Eh, yes!"

Her voice shook. Feel the blood of her entire body concentrate on her face. The reason is that Yuri Yamazaki's favorite idol is Reisi Munakata.

Half in panic, she yells out the questions that come to mind.

"But why are you here?! What happened to the 'Sprint Dream Live Tour'?"

"I'm having a little problem and I've taken a different route than normal. Don't worry, I'll be in time for the opening."

She felt as if the blood that had risen through her head was coming down this time.

In other words, it is an emergency. Yuri was a fan and she knew how confusing it would be to be late for the opening ceremony. Perplexity, pain, disappointment. Just imagining being there, the pain felt like its own.

Yuri rushes up and says.

"Is there anything I can do?!"

“Lend me the bicycle. It's enough."

Yuri blushed again. If she thinks about it again, it was probably all part of the plan coming here. It is not a feat for the Munakata representative to give instructions to the directly administered office.

"Please..."

"Thank you."

Munakata straddled the bike without showing any pretense of noticing Yuri's tension. Somehow, it was an unattainable sight. The King of Idols, who can only be seen on TV or on stage, sits astride her bike.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going."

"Oh, yeah!"

Yuri instinctively stopped Munakata who was trying to get out.

Munakata looks at Yuri with his foot on the pedal. She held her breath with a mysterious look.

("Please sign.")

She had to desperately suppress that desire that came to her mind. Hasn’t she just found out it's an emergency? There is no second chance. And yet, unable to say such a silly request, that embarrassment forced Yuri's awkward smile and false words.

"Please do your best. I support you!"

Munakata, however, was looking at Yuri's face with calm eyes that looked through all her smile and strength. Munakata laughed lightly at Yuri, who suddenly became flustered and reached into her pocket.

"What should I write?"

"Eh?"

"I have a pen, but I don't really have colored paper. It's not in good taste with a notepad."

Yuri blinked many times. The feeling of regret, even the time she was wandering and wondering why him could see through her desires made her stiff.

Yuri handed him the PDA she was holding in her outstretched hand to Munakata. With her voice asking "Is it okay here?", she was fascinated by the magically moving pen. She picked up the PDA again, looking at the Munakata signature written there, and it was like a soliloquy.

"Why...?"

"I am an idol."

Munakata's response, as well as their relationship, was open and frozen.

"Idols live up to the expectations of their fans. My job is to capture your expectations."

"......"

"Good luck then. Thank you for your continued support."

With a courteous greeting, Munakata pedaled off the road in no time.

Yuri holds her PDA to her chest while watching him back. She murmured in an emotional voice, promising to turn it into a relic, and she was about to buy a new one.

"President, I will follow you for the rest of my life!"

++++++++++

That day, Yojiro Sato (51) was driving his own high-speed boat and racing in Tokyo Bay.

His main business was fisherman, but he also works as a fishing boat captain as a side job. In any case, the main job is to chase the school of fish, current high-speed boats are used for that purpose.

But today's work was different than usual.

The client was a fishing cooperative and the content of the request was mysterious: "Anyway, I want you to go to Chiba city using a high speed boat." He goes through it several times, but it seems the reason he couldn't get the point was because the fishing cooperative was asked to go further.

Sato accepted it simply because the reward was great. Otherwise, it would not accept suspicious requests.

However, when he passed by the Tokyo Bay Aqualine, he began to regret it.

He doesn't think it's a dangerous story.

It goes without saying that Tokyo is one of the largest cities in the world and Tokyo Bay is a large adjacent port. Many are trying to carry out illegal transactions by sea. Unfortunately, he has heard stories of people involved in such problems at the level of rumors.

He's been through the fishing cooperative, so he doesn't think it's something to worry about.

Even so, a bit of anxiety washed over Sato's mind.

At that moment the radio sounded. When he reached out his hand and responded by reflex, he heard an unfamiliar voice on the back of the radio.

"Hello. Is this Mr. Yojiro Sato?"

It was a feminine and intelligent voice. Sato responds while confused.

"Oh, yeah. That's right."

"Nice to meet you, my name is Seri Awashima. I was the one who made the request."

"Oh, I see."

The confusion disappeared, but Sato pressed his face into place. Listen to Awashima's words, eager to decline the request in the event of an emergency.

"First of all, I apologize for reporting uncertain content to you in the application. I was in a hurry, so I thought about explaining after taking the first step."

"Okay, but what kind of job is this after all? It doesn't appear to be a fishing request."

"Yes. I want you to pick up a certain person."

When suspicion and vigilance increase, he raises his eyebrow. Sato asked in a low voice.

"Who is that? He is not a criminal, right?"

"What, criminal?"

From the other side of the meeting, he could feel the sign that Awashima was completely disappointed. The voice that echoed next seemed to lack a bit of calm, unlike before.

"Incorrect! The president is not involved in such things!"

"Oh, yeah."

At the angry response, Awashima coughed a little.

"No, sorry. It may be inevitable that it looks like this. I would like you to pick up Reisi Munakata, the representative idol of "Promotion Scepter 4"."

While driving, Sato is confused.

"Why do idols want to get on our ship?"

“As I said before, it is an urgent matter. He didn't seem to be in time for a regular water taxi, so I contacted you."

"Hmm... Well, it's okay."

Sato is not familiar with idols. He is simply not interested. From time to time he sees them on television, but to him they all have similar faces and clothes, so he cannot tell them apart.

That sect image is probably one of those idols. No wonder that is used instead of a taxi, but, work is work.

"So where should I pick him up?"

"Please wait a moment. I'll link the information on the president's location to that PDA."

"Eh?"

A second after the stupid voice leaked out, a spot of light lit up on the GPS map attached to the ship. Sato opens his mouth and looks at it moving at high speed on the map.

“Did you get the location? The point that lights up in blue is the current position of the president."

"Yes, I got it."

"Good. Get closer to the point of light. It also shows the next meeting points."

The GPS map reacts again and projects an orange spot of light. It shows a jetty near the beach park, that made Sato panic even more.

"Wait a minute! How did you do that? This is my PDA, right? Why can you operate it on that side?"

"There is no time to lose! I took emergency measures! Rest assured that we have formal permission to use the system!"

"What is that system?"

To Sato's confusion, Awashima doesn't reply. "More than that!" When he started yelling, the blue point of light on the map continued to flash.

“He is approaching the meeting point. Thanks for your cooperation. Awashima, over and out."

And the radio was unilaterally cut off, leaving only Sato who was confused.

The ship curves and begins to move parallel to the shore. Sato alternately compared the map and the coast. If this location is correct, Munakata will soon be in sight.

"Ah."

With that said, he opened his mouth. Someone was there. That's probably definitely Munakata.

From a distance, he can only tell that he is a man. It would have been indistinguishable on its own, but the appearance of a human who could ride a bicycle at a speed comparable to that of a high-speed boat fits this unusual situation perfectly.

"What should I do?"

Sato is a man of the sea. He is confident that he can handle most things that happen at sea. However, he had never imagined such a situation. Sato looked towards the beach while maintaining his speed.

At that moment, Munakata pointed forward.

Sato looks ahead so he can catch it. A jetty leading off the shore blocked the ship's path as it gently curved.

Reflecting a sailor, Sato curves the speedboat along the jetty.

Munakata's bike has picked up speed.

"Hey, it can't be!"

Unknowingly, Sato was screaming. Because he understood the man's thoughts. Because he understood the meaning of "meeting point" that Awashima said on the radio.

The bicycle races down the jetty at a speed that exceeds that of high-speed boats. Sato made the boat's engine run at full speed. It was not because he understood their speculations, but because he thought that, as a man of the sea, he would not be able to stand upright if he was driving a boat and losing to a bicycle.

The bicycle and the speed boat run next to each other for a very short distance.

For the first time, Sato saw Munakata's face.

Munakata was smiling with a clean face in front of him. It was not the expression of a human reaching such high speed on a bicycle. He was horrified. Perhaps this is a monster that seemed to drag him to the bottom of the sea. Even such an imagination took over his head.

Munakata's bicycle leaned over. At the end of the jetty, Sato's high-speed boat drew closer and Munakata jumped with the bicycle with only the spring from his body.

Sato opened his eyes and looked at the figure of Munakata leaping against the sun.

After a short break, Munakata's bicycle landed on the back of the high-speed boat, made a sharp turn, and came to a stop.

"Fu..."

With a sigh, Munakata wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"......"

Sato was just looking at Munakata, who was behaving like a human, with his mouth open.

When he got out and parked at the bicycle rack, Munakata looked at Sato and said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you. Sato Yojiro-san. My name is Reisi Munakata. Thank you for your transportation to the planned location."

Swallowing hard, Sato asks suspiciously.

"You are a human?"

After opening his eyes somewhat surprisingly, he replied with a bitter smile.

"I'm just an idol."

++++++++++

At the Suzugaya sorting yard, Domyoji Andy (19) turned his pale face down and swallowed nausea.

He, who is scheduled to appear on "Sprint Dream Live Tour", is at that location because the Suzugaya courtyard is a helicopter landing site owned by "Scepter 4."

The event titled "Extreme Solo Part, Idol from Above 6500~", is Domyoji's assigned role this time. The event of strumming a guitar solo while skydiving from 2000 meters above the sky is sure to be a great thrill if it succeeds, but it can only be said that it is insane.

For today, Domyoji was repeating a special training every day. In total, it would have fallen enough to reach the surface from the stratosphere. Domyoji said that if he ran for Guinness, he would not pass, and gave a tired smile.

At that moment the door to the waiting room was opened and the staff entered.

"Domyoji-san, please prepare for take-off!"

"Eh?"

His eyes are round. Domyoji looks at the watch as it is. There is still some time left before the live begins. The turn of "Shoumutai", including Domyoji, was supposed to be in the second half of the opening ceremony.

"Is it still early? Was there an accident?"

Anyway, when he got up and left the room with the staff, Domyoji was so quiet. He doesn’t know what kind of problems are waiting in the live presentation. Not only staff but also idols need to take this into account and respond flexibly.

"There is no change to Domyoji-san's appearance time! We are going to pick up the president from now on!"

Domyoji opened his mouth. The staff didn't look back and pushed the door in front of them while walking quickly.

At the landing site, the helicopter was already preparing for takeoff. The high-speed rotating main rotor disperses a roar like a gunshot. Defeating the sound, Domyoji yelled at the back of the staff.

"What happened to the president? That person is surely the interpreter for the opening ceremony!"

“Currently, the president is crossing Tokyo Bay! We'll pick him up at sea and head straight to the Tsubakimon Dome!"

Domyoji is confused. He is crossing Tokyo Bay? He has no idea what the hell is going on. What he knows is that he is about to fly high again.

After sitting on the seat and fixing his body with a harness, Domyoji finally noticed.

"Hey! Don't I need it if I pick up the president?!"

"It's the president's judgment that it's a waste of time to go back every time! After leaving the president in the dome, Domyoji-san will wait in the sky until the time of the "Extreme solo part, Idol from above 6500~”!"

That was brilliant. Wait a minute, he try to tell if he would be flying all the time, but then his body was fixed. Jumping out the rear hatch, the staff gave Domyoji a big thumb up.

"Thank you good luck!"

The hatch closes as he continues. The sound of the rotor increases the pitch. Domyoji's stunned face disappeared into the darkness of the plane.

++++++++++

"The President has arrived at meeting point E! The pickup helicopter that was already waiting has started to approach!"

"Let go of the rope, the helicopter must be very careful!"

"Got it! Let go of the rope! Try to drive safely!"

Brilliant laughter erupted in the monitor room as the pilot made a joke. Private language during the operation should be strictly prohibited, but Awashima felt a slight smile on her lips. This would indicate their high morale. She doesn’t have to worry.

"President, I secured a rope! Start climbing."

"Domyoji, can't you point the CCD camera at the president?"

"Oh, yeah, I'll try."

Domyoji hastily responded to Awashima's voice. After a while, a rough image appears on one of the monitors.

Munakata was about to board the helicopter. Standing in the open hatch, he turns and pays him homage. A high speed boat floating ahead, probably Yojiro Sato, a man who appeared to be the captain took off his hat and waved it.

The expression of the image has been softened.

"President. Thank you for being safe."

On the CCD camera, he sees Munakata smiling.

“Thank you for your hard work, Awashima-kun. Did you worry?"

Awashima shakes her head slowly.

"I wasn't worried."

It was a lie. During these 30 minutes, Awashima has looked at the clock no less than 50 times. It's not because she doesn’t trust Munakata. It is probably due to the weakness of Awashima's heart.

Munakata's deep eyes can even see Awashima's inner heart. Still, she looked directly at her boss and reported on the situation.

"We are on time. If you move at full speed from the current location of the president, it will be enough to reach the inauguration. The president's suit has been brought to the room of the occupant of the helicopter."

"Okay. Let's finish all the preparations on the fly. Has the final landing point I submitted changed?"

"No, there are no changes. The helipad is already in control."

At that moment, one of the monitors lit up red and emitted a warning sound.

"What?"

"I will confirm it!"

Staff operate the console quickly. Awashima holds her breath and stares at the movement.

Finally, the staff raised a strained voice.

“There was a fire at the Tsubakimon Dome Hotel! Looks like an evacuation notice has been issued at the hotel!"

"No!"

“No recommendations have been issued for this place! Deputy Chief, what do we do?"

Impatience melts in her hand. Various thoughts come to mind instantly. How big is the fire? How to accept evacuees? Should the concert be canceled, even if no recommendations have been made? The enthusiasm of the people involved and the fans for this live show is extraordinary. But if something happens to the fans, it is irreparable.

An intelligent voice broke those thoughts.

"Awashima-kun. Confirm the evacuation of the hotel guests."

Raise her face. Beyond the CCD camera, Munakata's rough expression was as calm as if he were sitting at his usual office desk.

Awashima looks at the staff. The personnel turned to the front and quickly returned to operating the console.

Finally, he told the staff in a shocked voice.

"We share the confirmation of the status of the place, but the evacuation of the three guests has not been completed! It seems that we are reconfirming the people who have been in the air and have been evacuated!"

"Three people. That means they are…"

The CCD camera points in the other direction. Seeing that, Awashima took a breath.

Near the window on the smokeless floor. A man and a woman are crouched in a narrow space. The woman appeared to be holding a child.

"The number of people matches. Apparently, the evacuation was delayed."

Awashima looks at the image from the CCD camera. Imagine a tragic future for a family left behind at the scene of the fire and blood gushes from their faces.

And Munakata said of course.

"I am heading to the rescue."

Awashima knew that Munakata would say so. Knowing that, she still screams...

"President! Don't do it!"

Domyoji's camera captures Munakata's face. Munakata wasn't looking there. He murmured, looking serious at the scene of the fire, perhaps putting together another thought.

"Awashima-kun. About us?"

"Ah..."

The answer to that was fixed. Awashima squeezed her hand so tightly that her nails dug into her palm.

"We are... idols...!"

"What kind of person is an idol in "Promotion Scepter 4"?"

"Our goal is to be the ideal human who should be a role model for people."

Munakata looked at Awashima with a teacher's gaze, watching over the poor students who gave the correct answer.

"So that's it."

"Huh!"

Munakata goes to the scene of the fire. Although he is an idol, he is only a human. There is no guarantee that he will be able to return safely, so the worst consequences may await him in the future.

And, while looking at the worst, taking steps to prevent it from happening is also a condition of being an ideal human.

Awashima said that decisively when she took a little breath, exhaled and was ready to do it.

“We will contact the various parties involved in the handling of this incident and request assistance in rescue activities. I pray for your safety, President."

Behind the camera, Munakata nodded slightly.

Fushimi Saruhiko clicked his tongue as he leaned his back against the wall.

If Munakata's decision was stupid, Awashima, who followed him, could only be seen as a fool. He are an ideal person and he are trying to ruin his job by getting caught up in an additional idea. Fushimi's frank opinion is that, it is the role of rescuers to help the victims, and that is why they have to get rid of that work.

But he will never reveal it. At least not yet.

It only deals with possible situations.

Makes a call from his PDA. The other party came out with a ringing sound. Before they say something to him there, speak up.

“Akiyama, I got a job. Call the members of the 'Shoumutai'."

While saying that, Fushimi turned away from the wall and quickly headed to the end of the hall.

++++++++++

That day, Maki Arakawa (29) was visiting the Tsubakimon Dome hotel with her husband Takashi Arakawa (32) and their son Daichi Arakawa (0).

That day was Maki and Takashi's third wedding anniversary. The Dome Hotel was the place where Takashi proposed to Maki, and it was customary for the couple to visit this place on their anniversary every year.

With a new family member who is less than a year old, Maki and Takashi huddled together and wanted a night view from the living room. Takashi leans into the champagne and Maki leans into the non-alcoholic sparkling wine, looking at each other with a smile. In Maki's arms, Daichi, who had just fallen asleep, was giving a silent sigh.

A little compliment to a family that usually leads a modest life. Still, Maki was happy enough until the explosion happened.

The moment the explosion caught her, Maki was thrown to the ground with her husband.

When she woke up, her head was covered in black smoke.

"Daichi?"

The first thing that came to mind was the safety of her son. Looking down into her arms with a pale feeling, Daichi was still asleep. It was just a moment of relief, and he was soon filled with smoke-colored anxiety.

"What the hell?"

There was no way to answer that question. Her husband has wandered off a bit. He appears passed out, bleeding from his head. When she saw him, she was terrified that his heart would stop, but at least he seemed to be breathing.

Maki crawls closer to her husband, feeling pain glowing throughout her body. There seems to be a fire somewhere between the black smoke that comes in and the heat that burns the skin. That fact irritated Maki and made her reach out her hand.

"Get up."

The husband does not respond. Maki raised her face slightly and looked around her.

There is no one but them.

Is it after everyone has evacuated? Have they been left behind? Even if she gets lost, she does not know where to go and cannot leave her husband. It was decided that she cannot take him or her son on her own.

Fear and anxiety clench Maki's throat.

She takes the PDA out of her pocket and touches the emergency number. However, Maki herself wasn't sure how much it meant. The fear that surrounds her is getting stronger. Even if the rescue team is dispatched from now on, will they arrive in time?

"Yes, what happened?"

Communication has been opened. Maki squeezes the words out of her throat that moisten her body.

“Please help, please help. Please, please."

Unless this child is saved.

The moment he muttered a sentence-like word in a weak voice, a roar deafened Maki's ear.

A helicopter appeared outside the living room, behind a glass window.

A high-speed rotating rotor disperses a bombardment sound and the strong wind moves in the opposite direction. The helicopter tilted slightly and a sliding door pointed into the living room. Maki saw with wide eyes that a man with glasses was standing in the place that had already been opened.

It was not a rescue team. She knew it at a glance. After all, clothes are different. She had never heard of a rescue team dressed in such white, flowing clothing. It has beautiful bright colors and is like the clothes that idols wear.

The man with the glasses laughs smartly when he sees Maki. Then jump out the sliding door with a run.

"......"

Maki loses her words and watches over the elaborate suicide scene. From the PDA that fell to the ground, a Fire Service official said, "What happened? Please respond!" She heard a scream, but couldn't react. That was not the case.

The man crossed his arms, jumped high and rough, through the window, rolled across the living room floor, and landed brilliantly.

He balanced on his right foot, left knee, and right palm, and lifts his face to look at Maki.

Then he said with a smile.

"Hello."

"Ah, hello."

Barely responding, the man approached slowly, keeping low.

Behind him, there was a figure that jumped in the same way. He rolls on a glass covered floor, jumps and screams.

"Gak! The glass stabs me!"

“Domyoji-kun, continue with the preparations immediately. Be careful not to inhale smoke."

"Yes! President Munakata!"

When the man named Munakata approached Maki, he lifted his body, turned it forward, and began to wrap something.

"Oh, that...?"

“We will get away from this. Please hold your son firmly."

The soft voice in her ear soothed Maki's fear. She hugged her son tightly and, through her armpits, Munakata fixed a harness on Maki's body.

Munakata looks back and calls out to Domyoji, who is also wrapping the husband in a harness.

"Are you ready?"

"Well, somehow!"

Domyoji nods wrapping her weakly passed out husband around his body with a harness. When Munakata turned around, he turned his smart eyes towards Maki.

"Don't worry, I'll get you to safety immediately."

Somehow, however, she had an unpleasant sensation.

Maki looks out the window with her harness wrapped up. She sees the back of a helicopter that was going very far away. Maki asks, swallowing hard.

"Isn't that the one you ride?"

"Unfortunately, the emergency exit leading to the helipad is blocked by fire. Landing is difficult and jumping from here to the helicopter would not be possible with you in tow."

The question of what to do then did not need to be asked.

Munakata walks over to the broken window while tying Maki and Daichi to himself. The trampled piece of glass rings. A strong wind from the high sky blew and caressed Maki's cheeks forcefully.

The Tsubakimon Dome can be seen below. She wonders if he was doing some kind of live performance, and she could see the crowded seats even from such a high place.

Munakata looks at her calmly and has a soft voice.

"And we have less than five minutes to get started. This is the only way to get there on time."

She is not sure what you are talking about, but she understands what "this method" means. Maki looks towards Munakata with tears in her eyes.

"I'll ask you just in case, you've done it before, right?"

Munakata responds with a smile on his face.

"I read the manual."

Maki tried to resist, but her hands were empty and only scratched the air. Maki, who was shaking, saw that she could no longer understand the language, Munakata placed the sole of the shoe on the window frame.

Smooth to the end, Munakata says the last sentence.

"Ok, let's go."

"Hm..."

She can't say wait a minute.

Munakata was a man who executed words. A second after he said that, he had already jumped from a height of 100 meters above the ground with Maki and Daichi.

++++++++++

Basically the longer it takes to fall, the faster it will fall.

Its formula, commonly known as gravitational acceleration, is 9.8 m / s, and a rough calculation consumes a height of about 100 meters in less than 5 seconds. Knowing that, it's probably a bit more serious. She would have resisted.

Fortunately, the fear fainted her and it did not interfere with Munakata's work.

At the time of take-off, Munakata quickly opened the parachute. Munakata experienced a free fall for a time until the acceleration died due to air resistance.

At the sound of the wind, Munakata heard laughter.

Suddenly the baby was laughing in his arms. He wondered if he was enjoying the fall, and while hearing a laughing little voice, Munakata was laughing too.

"It's fun? It may be common for you."

The parent's "up and down" game and the current situation may not change much for this child. With that in mind, Munakata precisely operates the parachute.

Air resistance travels through the harness and squeezes Munakata's body. Munakata looked at the Tsubakimon Dome below, while reducing the burden on mother and child as much as possible. Already in his direction, the dome has been opened to reveal the stage.

"President, please respond. Let us know the current situation!"

Awashima's voice echoes from the device close to the ear. Munakata responds to that.

"This is Munakata. We are currently gliding about 70 meters from the earth's surface. We will proceed to land on stage."

In the center of the stage is a circle of bureaucracy, the end of today's sprint. There are 2 minutes and 47 seconds until the start. The image of landing, taking off the parachute, and entering the performance has already been created in Munakata's mind.

"No problem. Everything is fine. Awashima-kun, let's meet up on stage sleeve!"

At the image of Munakata, a sudden gust of wind disappeared.

"Yes!"

Before thinking of anything, Munakata had to devote all his energy to controlling his posture. The parachute, which was about to rotate like a cone, was operated with one hand like a hot kneading jumper, and in the worst case it prevented a free fall due to the disappearance of air resistance.

"President? What did you do?"

Awashima screamed at the anomaly.

"Well, it's not a big deal. I was exposed to the wind from the building and my posture was altered for a moment. The check was completed, but there is a problem."

"What kind of problem is it?"

“The current gust of wind has blown me off the field a lot. If nothing is done, we will land in the audience seats."

Awashima took a deep breath.

Due to the gust of wind, the chances of landing on stage were nil. A similar gust of wind might bring the whole picture back to the landing course, but it's like waiting for a miracle. It was the role of the believer, not the role of the idol, to hold onto heaven with prayer.

Munakata ponders as he spins in the air.

He cannot get off in the audience seats. No action can be taken that could compromise the safety of the public. Not only Munakata himself, but even the metal parachute hardware cannot be dropped on the heads of fans.

So there is only one way left.

"We will take a landing course outside of the dome. We won't be in time for the performance, but we can't help it."

Awashima squeezed out a rough voice.

"Come here."

Until now, Munakata has been racing to get to the performance on time and not disappoint the expectations of the fans. It is not unfortunate that the effort turns into a bubble.

However…

Munakata stroked the baby's hair, giggling happily at his mother's breast, with his fingertips.

"Don't be sorry. We are idols. Those who seek the best. But if that doesn't come true, we can choose the next best option."

"President..."

Awashima's voice has a bitter resignation.

But she was also an idol. Awashima starts working after dispelling it in an instant.

"I get it. Immediately, personnel will be sent to the outside of the cupola, and the president, the mother and the child will be immediately collected. Even if the delay is unavoidable, it should be as short as possible."

"Yes. Thank you."

A sudden voice interrupted Munakata who was about to approve the decision.

"It's not like that."

Munakata slightly opened his eyes.

He can't be wrong, it was the voice of Fushimi Saruhiko, the center of "Shoumutai".

"What are you doing?"

"Please be quiet, Assistant Principal. President, there is no need to change course. 2 minutes to start. If so, it is time to do so."

"What?"

"Akiyama, do it."

With Fushimi's command as the trigger, a sight of pure white spread under his eyes.

It was a huge cloth that completely covered the audience seats at the Tsubakimon Dome. The pure white fabric that glows under the light has a blue dyed stamp in the center. That's the emblem of “Promotion Scepter 4”, the flag of the idol that they should be proud of.

"Now you don't have to worry about landing in the audience. Please come down quickly. The stage is set!"

Watch the scene and listen to the words.

A powerful smile appeared on Munakata's mouth.

"I get it."

Then she slowly descends towards the emblem of his proud "Promotion Scepter 4".

++++++++++

"Huh... someone..."

In a park located outside the Tsubakimon Dome, Domyoji Andy was trapped in a tree and called for help with a weak voice.

The rescued person, tied in front, fainted slightly. After all, he never woke up during the drop or after the landing. He doesn't think there is any difference in life, but he wants to be rescued as soon as possible and taken to the hospital. It's about time Domyoji's shoulders scream from their weight.

"Oh, Domyoji-san! You were in a place like this!"

At that moment, a light illuminated Domyoji's face with a voice of salvation.

They were the staff of "Scepter 4." It looks like he was holding a ladder and looking around the dome. Domyoji mutters through tears when he sees them preparing for rescue.

"Hail me..."

Domyoji, who was saved several tens of seconds later, asked the staff with a deep sigh.

“No, what happened to the president? Did he do it on time?"

"Yes! It seems that with Fushimi-san's ingenuity, he was able to make it in time for the performance! It seems that he is performing well as of now!"

The staff deftly pulled out the PDA which projected a live image.

6:23 pm. The stage lights go out and the noise from the audience seats quickly subsides. For example, fans' expectations, enthusiasm and excitement increase.

The silence of passion, as if you could see it.

A suddenly glowing spotlight pierced the darkness.

In the center of the stage was a man crouched with one knee raised. He is dressed in a beautifully decorated suit and holds a microphone in his slim hands. There is not a single mistake or a single wrinkle in his clothes. The ideal idol is that person, the Idol King who was there.

Those in the audience, behind the television who are watching him, probably don't know how he got to that stage. Munakata must say that it is also the idol's responsibility not to report it.

As soon as the song started, Munakata looked up. A confident smile. An act that can be said to be solemn. Take a fixed turn and start singing.

Domyoji laughed impressively as he watched the fans' enthusiasm explode.

"I'm glad. He is on time."

"Yeah, I'm glad."

The staff laughs too. Only they know how many difficulties Munakata had to go through to be in that place. These difficulties have finally been overcome and the goal has come true.

"Well then, I'm ready too."

Domyoji says that, shaking his head. He also has a major role in the "Extreme solo part, Idol from Above 6500~". For that, he has to go back to heaven.

The staff stopped Domyoji's back.

"Domyoji-san, it's very difficult to tell... but Domyoji-san's part is gone."

"Eh?"

The staff scratched their heads at Domyoji, where their eyes became a point.

“It seems that it is impossible to take off on time because the helicopter has run out of fuel on the previous flight. Therefore, we will reproduce the PV of the album released next week as a replacement for the emergency. That was decided."

Domyoji froze and said...

"What is that? Has all my special training so far been for naught?"

Look at the facial expressions of the staff, quietly but surely.

"What is that? Aaaaaaaaaah!"

Domyoji's scream echoed around the outer edge of the dome.

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New On the Job

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part One: The Beginning

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n was job searching, looking for a new place to work as an escape to her, then, current job; she’d been denied every pitch she had, yet she worked her ass off with zero recognition. Writing was her passion and her dream job laid in the hands of a magazine company in the city. Will the combination of her sexual frustration and her competitive nature cause her to risk her biggest dream for a blue eyed coworker?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! 

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here!

I flattened my skirt with nervous hands in which had already clammed up with excitement. The day had finally come where I’d start my new job as print journalist at Essence, a small but ever-growing lifestyle magazine company. My heels clacked against the wood floor as I quietly greeted the receptionist before making my way into the elevator. Pressing the button with my knuckle and waiting for the doors to open, I found myself playing with the ruffled sleeves of my blouse, seeking something to pass the inevitable time in which my impatience could not handle. Once the doors had opened, I quickly slid inside—pressing the third floor button almost immediately—before taking this intermission as a chance to double-check my appearance.

I used the front camera on my phone as a mirror, as I played with my hair, making sure it fell in the same loose waves I had styled before I left my apartment that morning. I also made sure the subtle lip stain that tinted my lips was still in tact as well, making me smile in content at my reflection before putting my phone away in my purse as the elevator doors opened again, revealing my arrival to my destination. I took a left, approaching Lauren Sawyer’s office, the CEO of the company, just like I’d done for my interview. Although the rollercoaster-falling feeling in my stomach was similar to the feeling I’d had during the interview, this was a different kind of excitement; now, I actually had the job. With three knocks to her wooden door and a few seconds of the somehow-intimidating door staring back at me, she swung the door opened and smiled in realization of my presence.

“Y/n, welcome to the office!” she greeted me proudly, holding her hand out to shake.

“Officially this time,” I added with a toothy smile, grabbing her hand to reciprocate her firm shake.

“I cannot wait to show you your new desk and give you an official tour of the building!” She gushed, exiting her office and heading straight down the minute hallway to the right of the elevator, which then opened up to a wide room with multiple rows of desks.

The left wall had exposed brick with huge windows lining the whole thing, looking out to the busy streets of New York. The entire room was filled with the sounds of people typing on their keyboards, but it was the perfect welcoming for my writer’s soul.

“I want you to meet a few people before we get started,” she informed me, leading me up past rows and rows of people, taking turns staring at their computer screens and keyboards back and forth with focus written on their facial features.

She walked in between rows of people working and typing away, some looking up from their screens and glancing at the new presence. The rows consisted of tables large enough to fit about three people on each side, facing towards each other with their computers dividing them. She finally came to a stop to a woman in a floral dress and short ginger hair. She had big, black headphones sitting on her head as she stared at the screen in front of her while she typed quickly. As she finally noticed Lauren and I, she quickly grasped the headphones and tore them off of her head, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Sorry, I didn’t even see you guys,” she apologized with a soft voice.

“No need to apologize for being focused,” Lauren gleamed at her. She gestured her arm out to me. “This is Y/n, she’s a new print journalist.”

I stuck my hand out, which the girl gladly took into her own with a gentle shake. She looked young, looking about my age, maybe even younger.

“I’m Faith,” she introduced, before returning her delicate hand to her lap.

“Faith is another one of our print journalists. She’s been working here for about two years now, so if you have any questions, she’ll be able to answer them for you. I think you two will get along lovely,” Lauren informed me.

After introducing me to Faith, she introduced me to the other print journalists for the company, some of which I could tell took their job more seriously than others. Then, she introduced me to the editors. She walked over to a desk where a brunette male sat, seeming to be multitasking by sipping at a coffee and typing at the same time.

“This is Dean, he’s one of our sub-editors. His job is to make sure our print journalists, like you, compose work that’s grammatically and factually correct. He works closely with the art team as well, to make sure the images and words compliment each other perfectly,” she explained.

“Don’t make me sound too perfect, you know I’m always screwin’ around with George,” he joked, making Lauren roll her eyes. With this, he revealed a thick British accent, startling me.

“Sometimes I wish that sub-editors didn’t have to work so closely with the art team,” she sighed, laughing. “If you find yourself working with him, you’ll no doubt find yourself meeting George, too; I can’t seem to separate the pair, it’s like trying to separate two best friends from working on a school project together.”

“Hey, we accomplish loads together! We’re a great team, George and I,” he defended.

“He’s right,” she said in defeat, looking at me. “But I won’t admit that to him.” She winked.

After leaving the brunette to his work, she gave me a tour of the whole building before finally showing me to my desk. It sat next to the window, and there was enough individual space that I could decorate with a few things. It wasn’t ideal for my mild claustrophobia, but it was manageable. I was at least thankful I wasn’t sat in the middle of the row, with people on both sides of me.

I also ended up being sat across from Dean, the brunette sub-editor. I didn’t mind, I thought she’d actually given me an advantage, being physically close to someone I’d have to work closely with. Lauren had also informed me that there would be a meeting with the journalists and editors in an hour from then about new content ideas, which would be a good experience for me to listen to and take mental notes. About ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, Dean stood up and offered me to join him for the meeting, as he figured I may have trouble remembering where the specific conference room was; I hadn’t been able to memorize the complicated large building yet, anyway. I accepted his invitation, and followed him through a hallway.

“Lauren’s kind of shit at training new people,” he confessed, leading me through the twists and turns of the building.

“I’m not even sure where to get started,” I admitted, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I’m sure one of the other writers can help you with that,” he elaborated. “I can help you with the process of sending the writing to the sub-editors, but I don’t have much knowledge about the actual writing aspect.”

He stopped in front of a door, opening it for me, revealing others I’d previously met, all sat at a long table. The table faced a whiteboard with messy handwriting already scribbled onto it. He pulled a seat out for me, making me blush and seat myself before he took a seat next to me. The head editor I’d been introduced to earlier strolled into the room alongside her PA, her assistant, who scurried over to an empty seat with a laptop. The head editor, who I’d forgotten and was reminded of her name Connie, cleared her throat before starting the meeting.

She began by explaining that they were in need of article ideas for the following weeks. She started with the beauty and fashion editors, as we all listened to them pitch ideas. It was interesting, hearing the pop culture references they were coming up with, as this had been new territory compared to my last job. Once they had come up with ideas and deadlines, she focused on the article ideas for the journalists.

Faith, the ginger-fellow-journalist, cleared her throat before speaking. “I was actually able to get in contact with one of the producers of The Bachelor, and I was thinking of conducting a Skype interview.”

“That’s wonderful! Get that interview scheduled as soon as possible and let’s talk about deadlines later,” Connie ordered, in awe of Faith’s plan.

Other journalists began speaking up, all trying to impress Connie just as much as Faith had. With the pressure and the new environment, I wasn’t able to come up with anything myself. My silence caught Connie’s attention, dragging her emerald eyes toward my shy y/e/c ones.

“I don’t expect you to come up with anything just yet, Y/n; after all, it is your first day,” she reassured me. “However, make sure you use this week to your advantage by taking notes. And, I expect a pitch from you next week.”

I nodded sharply at her instructions, before listening in on the rest of the pitches and deadline dates. She called the meeting to an end soon enough, everyone exiting the room at once in attempt to get to their keyboards as quickly as possible. I followed behind Dean quietly, mind filled with endless thoughts concluding my first meeting at Essence. Dean could sense this, as he spoke up once we’d gotten back to our desks.

“Connie can be a bit intense.” His thick British accent seeping through.

I laughed dryly. “You think?”

I began looking and reading through articles on the Essence website, taking notes. I’d made a separate document page for these specific notes, leaving specific quotations that inspired me and that I felt were important for me to remember. After reading for hours and ignoring the strain in my eyes, I was interrupted by the grumbling of my stomach. I frowned, looking at the small clock in the corner of my computer screen. It read 1:03 pm, meaning I’d missed lunch. I got up from my seat and walked over to the cafeteria, relying on my memory as navigation. The small “cafeteria” held a snack bar, a cabinet set filled with snacks and food, and other kitchen supplies like a fridge, sink, and a microwave.

I decided to make myself a salad from the snack bar and adding a side of cashews to keep me full until dinner. I brought the plate back to my desk and went on my phone, replying back to the texts my roommate had sent me throughout the morning.

“Y/n, what’s your email?”

I looked up from my phone screen and to the brunette across from me, swallowing the bits of lettuce that I’d been chewing for longer than usual. 

“Just for the future,” he added to normalize his question. I nodded quickly and looked around for something to write on.

“Right, um...” I grabbed a sticky-note from my purse and scribbled my email address onto it before reaching over and handing it to him. 

“Thanks,” he stuck the sticky-note onto the table next to his keyboard and resumed typing. 

I turned my attention back onto my salad and my phone screen, continuing to digitally converse with my roommate. My phone buzzed with an email notification, as my head spun to my computer screen. I opened up a new tab, signing into my email in curiosity. I clicked on the new email from the email address “deanchapman7″. Opening up the email, there was a meme image with nothing else attached. I laughed out loud, bringing my hand to my mouth at the sudden reaction. I leaned over to look at him, biting back giggles, as he looked at me innocently. 

“What's so funny?” he smirked.

I shook my head before searching through the memes on my phone, sending myself one of my favorites, before sending it to him. As soon as I heard his mouse click, he snorted and leaned over to look at me from his computer. I copied his previous innocent composure.

“What’s so funny?” I chewed on my lip. He rolled his eyes, before returning his blue irises back to his screen. 

I brought my eyes back to my phone screen, immediately telling my roommate that I’d made a new friend already. With a finished lunch and some more note-taking, the day came to an end as I watched the sun set on the city through the window beside me; that was something I could get used to.

The next day, I had a full day of note-taking ahead of me that I couldn’t say I was looking forward to. I greeted the brunette across from me, as he sipped at his coffee and waved back at me silently, acknowledging my presence but was too caught up in his work to carry a conversation at that moment. I opened my document and pulled up some more articles and began my venture into more endless note-taking. I’d also taken a break to order a pair of Bluetooth headphones from Amazon, since most of my coworkers seemed to have them on their head while working. I wondered if they were listening to music or a podcast while working, and if so, then maybe that helped them focus.

I watched over as Dean aggressively typed across from me before groaning and covering his face with his palms. He rubbed his eyes, standing up and exiting the office, heading down one of the hallways. I bit my lip in curiosity at this sudden outburst, but returned to my work. 

“Excuse me?”

I looked up across from me to see a tall man leaning against Dean’s desk, looking at me. He had dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and his eyebrows seemed to be furrowed in frustration. 

I cleared my throat. “Uhm, yes?”

“Have you seen Dean anywhere? I need to talk to him about something, but he hasn’t been answering my emails,” he surprised me with his British accent, matching Dean’s. Do a lot of people have British accents here?

“Uh,” I stuttered, trying to come up with words as his facial features distracted me. His hair was styled upwards, strands forming soft waves. “He just left not too long ago.” I blurted, pointing towards the hallway in which Dean had exited to.

The man sighed, running his hand through his hair and flaring his nostrils. 

“When he comes back, can you tell him that George was here looking for him?”

“Yes, of course,” my voice hitting a pitch slightly higher than my normal tone. I watched as he stomped away, before stopping in his tracks and turning on his heel, facing me once again. I felt a lump in my throat as his irises scanned my face.

“Are you new here?” he asked, his previous frustration washed away as his tone sounded more innocent this time. 

I nodded, trying my best not to blush under his stare.

“I started here yesterday, I’m a new print journalist,” I stated, trying to sound as professional as I could with his attention on me.

“I’m George, I’m Dean’s mate; I’m the art director here.” He leant forward onto Dean’s desk again, sticking out his hand for me to shake it. 

So that’s George. I grabbed his hand and gave it a delicate shake, watching as he maintained eye contact for a moment before letting go. 

“Judging where he left, I’m thinking he went to go find me,” George laughed, running another hand through his hair and resting the other on his hip. I stared at his navy blue button up, which fit him just right, and his slacks. My eyes traveled to his belt before quickly looking away and mentally cursing myself for looking at him so intimately. 

“He seemed upset when he left,” I admitted, recalling his groan and the way he’d put his face in his hands. 

“Ah,” George clicked his tongue. “That would be my fault. Well, not my fault, but the contents in my email regarding one of the picture editors. Long story short, someone fucked up and it interferes with his deadline. Poor bastard.”

“Jesus, that doesn't sound good,” I chewed on my lip, not quite sure what to say, but wanting to carry on the conversation. 

He laughed, flashing a smile I wish I hadn’t seen, because it made him even more attractive. I was practically jelly in my chair at his point. 

“Yeah, we’ll get it sorted out; we always do,” he confessed with a closed-lip smile. “Well, it was nice seeing you...”

“Y/n,” I introduced with a sheepish smile.

“Y/n,” he corrected himself. “Tell Dean I was lookin’ for him?” 

I nodded. “Will do, as long as he’s not still pissed off; that was kind of scary.”

He laughed again, crinkles by his eyes appearing. 

“Dean? Scary? Bloke’s a teddy bear!” he exclaimed. “Dean wouldn’t hurt a fly. He just gets overwhelmed sometimes, but what sub-editor doesn’t?”

I smiled at his comparison between Dean and a teddy bear. George was right, the brunette seemed extremely kind. I thought back to the day before, when he’d asked me for my email address to send me a meme. Suddenly, Dean appeared from the hallway he'd disappeared into earlier, widening his eyes at George.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, mate!”

“As have I,” George responded, a lot more calmly. “I met your new desk mate too, by the way, she's lovely.”

I could feel my cheeks turning scarlet at that point due to his compliment. His accent extended the weight of his words, and I knew there was no way I didn’t look like a tomato. Dean looked over to me and sent me a smile.

“Sorry about this idiot,” he glared at his friend, who rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Let’s go to my office,” George suggested. 

And with that, the boys took off toward the elevator. I watched as they walked together, backs turned towards me, before George turned his head to me for a moment, looking at me one last time before they disappeared. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath before I was practically gasping for air. My hands went to my cheeks, which to my expectations, were on fire. I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustrated with my cheeks habitually turning red every time I was in the least bit embarrassed. 

I looked across from me at Dean’s empty desk, where George had been leaning against, looking at me, just minutes ago. I chewed on my bottom lip, remembering the way his hair looked, the way his hand felt, the way his eyes bore into mine. I had to pinch myself to discontinue the thoughts, remembering that I was at my job. He’s probably slept with every woman in this office, I thought to myself. That thought made me sick, sick enough to quiet my thoughts about him and resume my work. It wasn’t possible for a man that handsome to be such a gentlemen, there had to be something nasty about him. With the effect he had on me, I wondered if he used his charm on other girls in order to get them to sleep with him. That had to be it, right? I hoped that I wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon, not sure what I’d do and what thoughts I’d have again. But a small part of me, deep down, begged to see him again.

[anikkis-fantasirealities]

“Misty Meets, the Valued Rocks and Seas”

② Travelogue ┊ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵗʳᵃᵍᵉᵈʸ ᵃˢ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ ᵗʳᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ··· ᵗʳᶦᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵃᶜᵗᶠᵘˡ ᵗʳᵉᵃˢᵘʳᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗᶦᵗˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵉˢᵗᶦᵐᵒⁿᶦᵉˢ·

꒰⁺˚₊·₍₍loading...₎₎ ✎...۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪ -ˏˋ 🗺 ˊˎ- ༘✶ ㊉ ㈦〘 ⅯⅯ 〙⋆｡˚𓆟 ༉ ║ Posted : ０６/１５/２１° ｡༄ ‧₊˚ ๑ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ •ଓ.° ｡❍ ㈩ ㊇

- - ——— ꒰ An article by Nicole “Nikki” Elaine S. Chua ꒱

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ࿐ྂ—͙❬₊° ᶦ ᵃᵐ ᵃ ᵇˡᵒᵍᵍᵉʳ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ·“= ‹⸙͎

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ❐ · ⸰ㅤ ㅤ ⋇ · ◦ ㅤ ㅤ ⁕⸰ ㅤ ㅤ ☁

⊹ ㅤ ㅤ ⋇ ㅤ ㅤ ·⁕ ㅤ ㅤ ◦ ❏ ⋇

ㅤ ㅤ ◦ ⸰ ㅤ ㅤ ◍ ㅤ ㅤ ⊹ ⁺

· ㅤ · ⊹ㅤ ㅤ ⋇ · ◦ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ · ❏

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ · ⁕ ㅤ ㅤ ⋇ ⸰ㅤ ㅤ ❐ ⊹

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ❐ ⊹ ·

ㅤ ㅤ ❐ ⊹

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ · ⊹ ⋇ · ◦

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ · ❏

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ· ㅤ ㅤㅤ⁕ ⸰ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ⊹ · ⁕

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ❐ ⊹

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ.ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ .

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ.

“Wait, it’s about to rain?” I can vaguely remember saying something similar to those impulsive thoughts, as I look up into the gray skies and those monotoned clouds steadily sailing in mid-air. I felt the raindrops on my face—the mix of awe and worry from my father, mother, and sister who were about to trek on those rocky grounded fields of the wild Yehliu. The other visitors, whose language I could not understand, fiddled through their belongings. They opened umbrellas and covered themselves in pastel-like colored jackets, transparent in design, as I observed their casual clothing for a supposed sunny adventure. This was about to be one of the greatest family travels out of the thousand places I’ve visited—one that was like no other.

Welcome to 𝙔𝙚𝙝𝙡𝙞𝙪 𝙂𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙞𝙥𝙚𝙞, 𝙏𝙖𝙞𝙬𝙖𝙣! For this article, I’d like to tour you around one of the most memorable and breathtaking travel destinations that my family and I visited during our second vacation in Taiwan. To be honest, the Chuas loves to stroll around new locations together—whether we linger the Pearl of the East, or the rest in the Heart of Asia. Whenever there is time to escape from the world of academics, we break out from that comfortable 3D box to walk to the outskirts of recreations, entertainment, and sights to behold. Dad, who was always our captain on the steering wheel of our adventures, would schedule the perfect itineraries during our summers. Mom tends to take pictures and post mementos of our times together on Facebook—as my sister and I enjoy the blissful moments noted in our own book of life.

This geopark, however, gave a different kind of atmosphere to our typical visits. The humidity has been thickening and the cold crisp air swept through the open area. A geopark is molded by nature’s wonders. There are no futuristic buildings, leaning towers, nor brilliant inventions of men standing uproot, rather, jaggy rocks and murky land persists in this long-cape landscape. It has 1,700 meters of earth carved from top to bottom—shaded by bland hues of brown and green. However, such a scenery cannot be underestimated just because there is nothing but bumpy stones, flimsy pathways, and barren holes on the crust. This is the sole reason why it is visited, for Yehliu Geopark is not only a tourist attraction, but also a habitat for rich ecological resources and thriving fishing communities. The entirety of Yehliu’s cape runs through a sea—yes, you read it right, a 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙚 of soothing waves that compliment the greenery of the mountains above.

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝dissolve into seafoam. ❞

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Do you know the story of how Yehliu Geopark became to be in its present form? Each rock and stone structure in this site has its own character, as if they are interacting with one another. The locals here in Yehliu witnessed how nature refined itself with its own miracles. Hence, they are also the ones who shared the geopark’s origins to tourists like us. The landscape was crafted by marine erosion, because it so happened that the seashore’s layer is made out of limestone. Because of the scientific method of weathering and movement by the Earth, the limestone crumbled over time—dissolving slowly by the seawater bashing itself into land. It resulted into those eerie, yet interesting sea-water eroded holes on the ground. What’s even more amazing is the fact that because of the flurry winds, blinding sunrays, salty water, harsh rains, and dreadful northeastern monsoon paths, the rocks gained identity and almost became celebrities due to their unique figures.

It is truly a work of God, that these elements who continuously burdened stones to rapidly change and adapt to the impact they cause, made them into what they are today. It is like humans, who also tolerate, endure, and persevere from pain to transform into better people—tested by time, yet surviving with resolve. The day my family and I visited the geopark, the rain drizzled from the heavens. There was the thought that I could slip over wet ground and plunge into the sea if I was not careful, but looking around, I figured that this peaceful nature will not allow anyone to be taken by its mystical works. It embraces you, like there’s nothing to be scared about. Instead, it greets you hello with open arms—wanting us to continue our plans despite the misty dewdrops.

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝ bridge to terabithia. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

The chilly atmosphere was actually quite relaxing, especially when nature desires its visitors to breathe for a while after an industrious environment in the urban society. My family and I walked with our umbrellas on our heads with smiles on our faces—the waves from the sea yearning to approach us, only being stopped by the sturdy ground that we walked on. If ever you visit Yehliu Geopark, you must get ready to meet some of the rocks in this travel destination! There are candles, mushrooms, a cute princess, that arch-shaped gorilla, some kind of marine bird, ice cream, tofu, and the main attraction: the Queen’s head. Just like the other tourists, we did not hesistate to take home souveniers of our adventures from the unwinding views we’ve seen. Even though more than 1,000 meters is a big horizon to explore, we walked around—hoping to spot more rock formations.

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝ uniting the cynosure’s roads. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

Imagination is what created those rock formations’ attributes and parts in this still story of Yehliu. If you have tons of imagination of both the possible and impossible, then your sightseeing will be plenty of fun to commit to! The 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 are like little children sitting on the seashore, except they were not just two but 180 of them all together in one area. After stepping with caution across the slippery rocks, you will notice a familiar figure that looks like a woman with a large headdress. She wears it with all honor and responsibility as the star of Yehliu. Oh! You guessed it, we found the 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣'𝙨 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙! We captured a shot with her hazel beauty which you can see in my cover edit. Mission accomplished, now let’s look for the other rock characters, shall we?

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ㅤㅤ ❝ ephemeral angst, nefarious epiphany. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

After walking for a while over bridges and stairways that connect the geopark together, we discovered the 𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨. They were soaked in sea-water, so its usual beige color like all the rocks we’ve seen so far has dimmed to pitch black. Though, you will be surprised that they are shaped like short candles—with their wicks sticking out in the middle, as if it has already melted deeper into its center. According to the brochure we held before entering the tourist spot, these rocks were originally ball-like concentrations with softer surfaces, before they were completely scoured off. So, that must be the magic of Yehliu, huh?

Then, we noticed an unique rock formation that was not documented on boards or printed material by the management. It was like an animal, laying down on a rock—resting with pride and confidence. I wanted to call this the 𝙇𝙮𝙣𝙭 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠, because it looks like a feline who is about to hunt, perhaps the marine bird from meters away. It’s not the official name of the rock formation, though, I felt closer to it when I made the connection. I felt chills all over my body when I heard the tiny pitter-patters hit my navy blue umbrella. It was definitely a fateful encounter—the calm rain, the rushing of the sea ridges, and a new found friend. When you come over to Yehliu, do say hello to Lynx for me! I terribly miss her, after all these years that I haven’t picked up my suitcase for another trip.

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ㅤㅤ ❝ the serendipity of tranquil encounters. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

There is apparently an anecdote documented in Yehliu’s history about a certain fisherman, namely “𝙇𝙞𝙣 𝙏𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙝𝙚𝙣.” In 1964, a group of students were visiting the scenic charm of the rocks and sea, when one of them unintentionally fell into the sea. Without thinking twice, Lin Tianzhen showed his courage and jumped into the raging sea to save the helpless pupil. Sadly, none of them were able to come back to shore alive—devoured by the depths of the salt water, unaware of its crime. When the news came to the attention of President Chiang Kai-Shek, the first president of Taiwan, he quickly ordered for a monument of Lin Tianzhen to be built in Yehliu. That’s why if you would see a marble sculpture of a man in baggy pants, that is the heroic fisherman in the stories of the locals here.

Throughout the rest of the adventure we’ve challenged to carry on despite the moist surroundings, we faced the 𝘾𝙪𝙩𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨 and her adorable figure, like she was posing her bent head to the camera. We found the arched-shape 𝙂𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠, who stood still, yet to our surprise, it was a literal arch! You can see the Gorilla in one angle if you do it correctly, though, you could also look at it in another angle to realize that it has a hole through its structure. We raised our peace signs in eagerness of the enticing discovery while the camera flashed. The 𝙄𝙘𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠 and 𝙏𝙤𝙛𝙪 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 made us hungry, because they looked like actual food enlarged and hardened in their positions—though, of course, they never expired! I could imagine that famous Taiwanese ice cream brand scoop on that jar-like rock, and the dream of tofu soup, for the Tofu rocks laid in two rows within the middle of the sea.

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ㅤㅤ ❝ a pluviophile soaked in hyperborean aqua. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

Since we were hungry, we looked for a place to fill our tummies to satisfaction. Thankfully, Yehliu Geopark still has facilities to accommodate tourists’ basic needs. A visitor’s center is established for dining, renting of wheel chairs & baby strollers, and inquiries of guests to the staff of the geopark. You can also ask for assistance from the friendly tour guides of the travel destination—if you are able to speak in Chinese, that is! Don’t worry—they are able to understand and speak basic English. Just make sure to pack your skills in speaking the foreign language if you’d like to talk more with the locals here, then! They also have a nursing station & lost and found section in the center in case of emergency or urgency, which is useful for scenarios such as the unexpected rain when we visited.

Because Yehliu Geopark takes care of the reefs and water ecosystems nurtured in their location, they also have a oceanpark in the geopark! It is called “𝙔𝙚𝙝𝙡𝙞𝙪 𝙊𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙,” though we were not able to spend time taking a peak into the realm of sea creatures and corals freely living in the pictures of exhibits. There are diving performers in the oceanpark, too, that make visitors astounded by their splendid act. Oh, and how can we not forget the souvenier shop for merchandise from Yenliu Geopark? It’s always great to show your loved ones how much you enjoyed Yenliu, its stories, and the sights you’ve seen! It also supports the geopark’s operation, so that it can continue its goal and mission to keep sharing the wonders of this valued scenic area by the Heart of Asia.

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ iridescently frozen in an ethereal epoch. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

There are also many earthy figures here that were molded by weathering. They are known as “𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨,” that possess an artistic style like that of a solidified sponge. Through these rock structures, Chinese culture is shown—an example being the “𝟮𝟰 -𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙡-𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡” that presents the importance of superiority and inferiority relationships to Chinese people. The hill of rocks have 24 men-like figures standing nearby each other, revealing a picture of hierarchy based on the positions of each men.

Additionally, the geopark has fossils scattered across its long cape. We only found this urchin fossil in the picture above, plaqued like a prized possession with the proud mark of Taiwanese tourism. The words, “Tai Power,” reminded me of the rest of the adventures that my family and I had in the warmth of this country. Even though the distress comes, it fades away with the power of bonds to go against the negativity to be refined everyday—that’s Tai Power, the ability to touch hearts wherever you are right now!

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ❝ petrichor at selcouth midday. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

Before I forget, if you’re looking for extreme activities, you can try tracking down the caves of Yenliu that were also crafted by nature’s power. They are placed in spots that are hard to reach by visitors—including me and my family who did want to risk getting harmed. Do try it out, however, if you’re looking for the thrill! There are other rock formations to uncover in Yenliu Geopark aside from the ones we were able to locate. You can trace down the footprints of a fairy in the 𝙂𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 and notice the 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮'𝙨 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙚 was left behind before it has taken flight again. The locals here believe in a legend that this fairy sent by the Jade Emperor, from Taoist beliefs, cursed a turtle elf who troubled the seas and caused many shipwrecks back in the day. So, if you see white smoke coming from the mountains, locals will exclaim that the turtle elf is taking its last breath. It’s a motivating tale to conclude this article, and our visit to the geopark.

Most importantly, I’d like to remind everyone who plans to visit Yehliu Geopark to obey and respect the guidelines given by the management of the landscape, as well as the North coast and Guanyinshan National Scenic Area Administration! If you observe red warning lines on the ground, do not pass that zone—always stay on the path, because it is for our own safety. Let’s 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 these astonishing wonders offered to us by the beloved nature we owe daily. We need nature, but nature does not need us. We should not touch nor damage these creations of Mother Earth. Climbing & tagging on the rock formations, smoking, biking, wading, swimming, fishing, littering, or disturbing the plants in the location is strictly prohibited! Otherwise, you might need to pay for a fine when caught.

Our duty to look after Yehliu Geopark, while saving the environment in our own way, is for the sake of the next generations whose imagination will also be aroused by these treasured beings and narratives of this place. The staff would like more people to enjoy the unique scenery it offers to the world. The rock structures in this geopark are still actively developing and dynamically changing with the tides of our times today. So, it is only rightful if we give them the same amount of growth they need, as much as we do.

At the end of the day, the trip I had in Yehliu wasn’t too bad at all! It was beautiful, stunning scenery to keep in my memories as I move forward to the present. Through my travel to Yehliu Geopark, we were able to unveil the mist and take a glimpse of the true colors of ordinary rocks and common seas. We got to know many stories of still stones, and the amazing people who make the geopark the apple of the eye for more tourists. A part of nature—to witness its ability and wonders through an alleviating journey to find peace—Yehliu Geopark can surely be described that way. If you’re interested in travelling to Taiwan, Yehliu Geopark is a tourist spot that you absolutely must consider in your own bucket lists! Maybe not now while the pandemic is still ongoing, but someday, hopefully! I’d love to hear your own experiences in visiting the geopark in the comments!

╔ ———————————————————————————— ╗

Yehliu Geopark is open from 8 AM to 5 PM. One entry ticket costs 80 NTD or New Taiwan dollars for one adult tourist. On the other hand, kids aged 6 to 12 can avail an entry ticket half its price. In the Philippines, 80 NTD is 139.54 pesos, while 40 NTD is 69.77 pesos, as of June 15, 2021. However, you can get a 20% discounted group ticket if you are a group of 30 or more people. The geopark is located in the Heart of Asia—Taiwan! Its exact address is No. 167-1, Kantung Rd., Yehliu, Wanli, New Taipei City, Taiwan.

If you are already in Taiwan, you can get to Yehliu Geopark either through bus or car. There are four routes that you can choose from if you will ride on a bus. Meanwhile, if you choose to arrive at the geopark by car, there are five dispatch options that are possible to use, depending on your starting point. You can check this link for more information regarding a planned trip. Safe travels, and thank you for reading! Let’s meet again in another blog where my fantasies become realities! A Nikki reminder: find passion in your work, and you’ll never tire from it! See you!

╚ ———————————————————————————— ╝

· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚ . . 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . * · . · · + . ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ· ** ˚ . . + 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ. . + 　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧ ⋆ · * . · . · · .. . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ· + ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ · ** ˚ . . + ㅤㅤ　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⋆ · * . · ㅤㅤ . · · .. . . · + .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. · + . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ * . * . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ . · ·

ㅤㅤ﹙dedication. ﹚ ୨˚୧ ˚ ༘♡.↳ ₊˚‧

This blog is dedicated to heroes who stay to be ordinary, because they glisten the most when their humbleness is that of the rocks and seas. You are truly the ones who give Rising Hope to all of us.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 🌄 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ┊彡 Credits

➥ Cover Edit

➫ Pictures captured by my mom, Helen Sy

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Blog Dividers

➫ Pictures captured by my mom, Helen Sy

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Source of Information

➫ Yehliu Geopark Bruisure

➫ Yehliu Geopark’s website

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 end. 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ⭆ Back to Homepage ⭅

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[scullysexual]

Jewel Sequel: Chapter Two.

There’s been a change of plan. I was originally gonna get this out on the weekend (so it had a similar system to what Jewel had) but then I finished it and edited it today so the post day will either be late Wednesday/early Thursday and hopefully I’ll be able to stick to that schedule. Hi, hello, if you’re new to this. This can arguably be classed as a ‘Titanic au’ still cause it exists within that universe. This is a sequel to that and it is highly recommended to read A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight first, it’s not long, it’s thirteen chapters and if you’ve read my stuff before you’ll know my chapters/one shots are never long. You won’t regret reading it either. It’s been a while since I’ve been in this universe but most wanted me to continue with it so here you go. I do really hope you enjoy this as much as you did Jewel. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them :)

Tagging: @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @purrykat @today-in-fic. As usual, let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters. 

Link to Chapter One.

Scully sighs in frustration as she turns the pages of the newspaper. It was the third one she had picked up so far and nothing; nobody advertising for any job, nobody looking for extra help.

She places the newspaper back on the rack, her hand hovering over the next before…

“We’re not a library. If you’re going to look through it, you better pay for it.”

Scully looks up to see an old man peering down at her from his stall.

Reluctantly, she leaves the fourth paper where it is and saunters over to the counter.

“Yes?” the man asks, warily.

“I was wondering if there had any job requests,” Scully answers, her elbows coming up to lean on the counter.

The man eyes her cautiously. “What kind of job?”

“Nanny, housekeeper, that sort of thing,” she shrugs.

With one last careful glance towards her, Scully watches with apprehension as he pulls a piece of paper off the wall and hands it to her.

“The Burkes came in a few weeks ago saying they were looking for a new housekeeper. They never came back to tell me they found someone so you can always check there.”

Scully looks at the yellowing paper. The address was not of a place she had heard of but it sounded upper class enough for them to have money so it was good enough for her.

“Thank you,” Scully says, exiting the shop. Too busy still reading the paper, she misses the sign If you read, you buy the man tapes onto the newspaper rack.

   Three knocks and she’s stepping back, praying that her appearance is presentable enough for this family to consider her.

Physical appearance had been everything with the other family; hair up, clothes tucked in, and not a single curl out of place. Scully’s curls always fell out of place, regardless.

She hears barking from the other side of the door and smiles. They have a dog.

Out the way, Bruce, she also hears before the door is opening and a boy no older than herself stands before her.

“Uh…can I help you?” the boy asks.

Smiling (just as she had been taught) Scully begins,

“Hi, uh…there was a housekeeper request made and I was wondering if it was still open?” She extends the note towards the boy and he looks down at it, looking as if he’s unsure as to what it is or what to do with it for a second before he’s taking it from her.

“Uh, yeah…just, hold on a minute.”

Scully nods, still smiling, as the door is placed on the latch and waits for him to return.

To say she was disappointed to being back in this position again perhaps wasn’t right. She knew even four months ago that there would have to be an adjustment period, and while her future turned out differently than she imagined before stepping onto the ship, career-wise, it wasn’t entirely off target.

The four months she had been here was really about allowing Mulder to settle. She knows how much of a drastic change this is for him, how important it was for her to be there when he came home every evening- she was his only familiarity anymore, after all- but Scully couldn’t shake away the feeling that maybe she had pushed her dreams too far back, all just to accommodate Mulder.

Had she still been here with Charlie, they would have found the swing of things fairly early on; him at some construction site, her in some upper-class house. And she wouldn’t have to try and get the weekend off.

Charlie…

It still stung to think of her brother.

The door reopens to an older woman, late 30s Scully assumes, holding the note Scully gave to the boy.

The woman looks her up and down. “You’re the help?” she asks, distastefully.

“Aye, ma’am,” Scully nods.

The woman sighs defeatedly. “I suppose you’re better than nothing.” She opens the door the little wider to allow Scully entrance. “Well, come on, then.”

Scully enters and immediately the dog bounding towards her, curious as to who this intruder is. She laughs as the gold Labrador slobbers all over her skirt, not minding at all as she pets the top of his head.

“Edward!” Mrs Burke shouts towards the rooms leading off. The boy who answered the door exits out of the nearest doorway. “Take the dog somewhere else.”

Edward moves towards the dog, gripping it by the collar and tugging it away from Scully. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

“You won’t need to worry about the dog,” Mrs Burke says, shutting the front door. “That’s Edward’s job. What did you say your name was?”

“Ingrid Brevik,” Scully answered.

The woman smiles slightly, a smile that tells Scully the woman knows she’s lying.

“You’re real name.”

Scully hesitates for a moment. They had been using their fake names since they got here, every new person they met they introduced themselves as Leif and Ingrid and nothing was said on the matter. Even when they had got to Ellis Island, they had been allowed to pass through immigration fairly easily.

“If will remain within this household if you’re scared,” Mrs Burke reassures.

And maybe Scully was scared. What if they knew the Mulders had been her first thought, was always her thought when meeting anybody. Scully knew first-hand what vultures these people were.

But what if not all of them were? Mulder certainly wasn’t.

“Dana Scully,” Scully finally answers.

Mrs Burke nods, “That sounds more like it. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Scully gets a tour of the house. It’s easy enough to navigate, give her two days and she’ll be able to walk around with her eyes closed.

She’s finally led to where she’ll be staying. A room in the basement. Minimum furniture; a single bed, a set of drawers yet the added bonus is the small bathroom attached. The last house hadn’t had a bathroom and Scully had been forced to use the one they had outside.

“You’ll work from six to nine every day. Dinner is usually served at seven. Any meals you have are to be had after we’ve eaten. Yes?”

Scully nods.

“Any questions?”

Scully fumbles with her fingers, unsure of how to proceed.

“Um…I have one request, actually.” The woman looks at her, waiting. “Can I have Saturday to Sunday off?”

  An agreement was made. Monday to Friday she would work, for half the wage.

Scully hadn’t tried to bargain with Mrs Burke. She hadn’t been too impressed with Scully’s request but had granted it anyway once Scully explained Mulder. She may not have been truthfully honest, Mulder was far from inept and she had no doubt he could take care of himself if it really came down to it but needs must.

Now she had the task of actually telling Mulder, something she had been dreading since this idea first came to mind. Five days a week Mulder would have to learn to live without her which meant he had a few new skills to learn.

Scully braces herself at the sound of the door unlocking. It opens to reveal Mulder, worn out and dropping his sketchbook onto the floor. He looks over to her, smiling tiredly, taking off his shoes.

“Long day?” she asks.

Mulder smiles in agreement, placing the money jar on the table. Scully’s eyes fall to it and widen when she realises what sits inside.

A dark green dollar bill.

She brings the jar towards her, twisting off the cap.

Mulder is full smiles now, pulling out the opposite chair and sitting down.

“Took a bit of convincing, but I managed to con them into giving that over.”

She looks up at him disapprovingly. “Mulder! We agreed you weren’t gonna use any deceitful tactics.”

“Look, I only did it the once, and look what it got us,” he points to the bill she holds in her hand. “I promise I won’t do it often.”

Scully sighs, placing the note back into the jar and pushing it out of the way. “You won’t have to. I got a job.”

Mulder stares at her in surprise. “Really? Where?”

She slides the note she got from the newspaper stall over to him.

“It’s just a housekeeper. I work Monday to Friday but I get to be home for the weekend.” She smiles, hoping it’ll lift his spirits.

Mulder stares glumly at the note. “You won’t be here for five days.”

She reaches her hand out, grasping his. “But I get to be home every weekend, that’s something right?”

Mulder shrugs, his fingers playing with hers. “When do you start?”

Scully looks down at their entwined hands. “Monday.”

“Monday?” Mulder exclaims. “But what’s in two days.”

“Well, it’s better than starting tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Mulder looks glumly down at their hands. “I guess,” he mumbles. “Scully, how am I meant to survive five days without you here?”

Scully smiles, “I’ll teach you how to cook. That should keep you alive.” Another thought passes through her mind then, one she hadn’t thought about before this moment.

“Mulder, will you be okay at night? You know, with the nightmares and that?”

She watches him think for a moment, a flash of panic crossing his face. Often their nightmares consisted of something happening to the other, or just a memory of what happened that night, and when they would wake up, the other’s presence would soothe them, allow them to go back to sleep knowing the other was safe and alive next to them. With them both being separated, there was a worry that that safety, that comfort wouldn’t be there anymore.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, trying to sound like he was convincing them both. “What about you? I know you have them, too.”

Scully tried to be less vocal about hers. Sometimes, Mulder’s dreams would have her waking up- usually because Mulder’s woke her up- sometimes it was the only way he could really go back to sleep if he knew she was really alive. Scully would just cuddle closer to Mulder, listen to his breathing and fall asleep that way.

She grasps his hand tighter. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

It was going to be strange, being away from each other for so long. They had been in each other’s company since the day they met. They have never gone a day since that day without seeing each other at some point during the same day. Scully just prayed Mulder would be able to manage without her.

[thelioncourts]

title: the mannequin gallery fandom: captive prince pairing: damen/laurent rating: mature words: 5366 for chapter six (6/?); 35387 all together

Damen was almost certain that his dream had been a pleasant one. There wasn’t anything all that concrete he could hold on to in memory of it, but he recalled lots of sunlight and the smell of freshly baked bread. He would have liked to have continued in that dreamworld for a few more hours, but it had been interrupted by a sudden –

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The person at the door, Damen first thought upon hazily waking up to the sound, must have a death wish.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Still too asleep and too caught up in trying to remember if the warmth from his dream had been from the sun on his skin or the warmth of an oven, Damen couldn’t even process a second coherent thought yet. Instead, he groaned. It was that overly loud kind of groan someone might do after not having used their voice for a few hours. Then he turned his face into the pillow, willing the person on the other side to magically disappear.

Knock knock knock.

“Damen.” Nik groaned too, his groan somehow sounding more frustrated in its tone than Damen’s own. “If you don’t answer that right now, I will not be responsible for the murder I commit.”

Damen ignored Nik for a moment, flipping over onto his stomach and bringing the pillow up and over his head so it muffled the sounds from outside.

Knock knock knock.

With yet one last groan, Damen threw his legs over the bed and stared blearily at the red lights of the alarm clock on the joint nightstand between the two beds. 5:47. When there was again another knock knock knock, he finally stood up and shuffled his way across the room.

Damen really was normally hard to frustrate or anger, but exceptions could be made for ridiculousness such as incessant knocking before six in the morning. It’s why, as he crossed the floor and flung open the door whilst rubbing sleepily at his eyes, he didn’t even have anything particular he planned on saying to the person on the other side, he was just going to say whatever came to mind. And, if he had actually stopped to think about that before he did it, he would have probably tried to stop himself because he was (rightfully) pissed off and nothing good ever came from greeting anyone while (rightfully) pissed off and –

After he pulled the door open, it took his sight a moment to adjust and come to the realization that it was Laurent DeVere standing outside his hotel room.

Laurent, very much unlike Damen, appeared to have been up for some time already. He looked impeccably put together, a black peacoat falling just below his waist and leading down to black pants and black shoes similar to what he had been wearing the other evening, and his eyes – blue and bright – looked perfectly awake.

“Hi,” Damen said dumbly, a total one-eighty in his voice from what he had intended.

“Were you planning on sleeping the day away?”

It took Damen a moment to react, but when he did, he squinted as though trying to make sense of conversation. “It’s not even six in the morning.”

He realized they were talking too loudly, and he began to whisper in courtesy for the old woman staying in the room next to their own. Damen and Nik had run into her once or twice as she gallivanted from party to party, and she was quite a firecracker.

“I thought I was giving you two a grand tour of my city today. So unless you plan on wasting my time, I suggest you put on whatever you consider clothing and come get a coffee so we can begin,” Laurent said, already turning and walking back down the hotel hallway.

“But what about –” Damen began to call out after him, but Laurent didn’t turn around and Damen didn’t want to yell anymore. With a heaving sigh, he closed the door and went back into the room where Nik was sitting up on his own bed, his hair a mess of darkness and his mouth pulled in a sleepy frown. Then he flopped back onto his pillow and gritted out, “Please tell me I didn’t hear who I think I heard.”

[Continue on AO3]

“Laurent asks that we go downstairs and meet him for coffee immediately,” Damen said, already rummaging through his bag and pulling out some clothes.

“Well Laurent,” Nik started, “can begin to learn that not everything has to be done on his pompous self-regulated schedule. I’m going to need at least half an hour.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want if you say that to his face,” Damen said with a laugh. “How about I go right now so he doesn’t go on some kind of diva-freakout, you order a cappuccino from room service, and he and I meet you back here?” Damen offered. He flicked on the bathroom light and Nik groaned again.

“A cappuccino sounds really nice right now.”

Damen’s morning routine was simple enough. He jumped in the shower for no more than five minutes, and then he was out and brushing his teeth, combing through his hair, and drying off best he could before pulling his clothes on. It didn’t matter to him if his hair was still wet before walking out the door because he never did much to it anyway; his curls had a mind of their own.

Laurent was waiting for him. Well, actually, Laurent was waiting for them. Watching the door for a moment, Laurent turned to Damen with a delicately quirked eyebrow.

“Your friend not coming?”

It hit Damen, suddenly in that moment, just how odd this situation was.

Not even a month ago, Damen had been entirely in the dark about Nik’s attempt to begin something professional with his photography and now Damen was grabbing coffee, alone, with a model he had met sporadically over the course of three days so said-model could show them around Paris.

But if Laurent found it odd, he didn’t show it. Instead, he waited for a response.

“He’s just waking up,” Damen said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He’s going to order a cappuccino from room service and then we can all meet up.”

Not missing a beat, Laurent didn’t say anything else, but began to walk, his demeanor full of an arrogance that Damen would simply follow. Damen did.

The streets were relatively empty of people and it allowed Damen to pay attention to the things one missed while dodging foot traffic, like the intricate designs on buildings, on the flowers just beginning to bloom, on the way the wind snuck through the gaps between buildings and rustled his hair. But with such a leisurely walk at hand, Damen found his attention wavering to the stranger at his side.

It was a confirmation to Damen that Laurent was a thousand times more beautiful without anything on his face. His outfit wasn’t attention-getting, his hair was simplistically done, and yet he was impossible to look away from. In fact, without anything deterring one from looking at only him, Damen found that there had never been anyone he’d ever seen with such effortless allure. (Nik would tell him right now he was biased and always weak when blond hair was involved. Actually, Nik would probably tell him just that at some point today.)

Realizing he was staring (a horrid habit he seemed to have mastered since arriving in France), Damen asked, “Do you go get coffee this early every day?”

“Nearly,” Laurent answered, not looking in Damen’s direction. “Mornings are often quiet. I try to enjoy them unhurried.”

Before Damen could comment back, something about how his and Nik’s mornings were often hurried in trying to visit entire cities in a week or less, or how the only time they got coffee this early was when they were already at the airport for a before-sunrise flight, Laurent was turning and walking through the doors of a cafe.

It was a small place, unsuspecting with its glass doors with gold handles and a handful of tables both outside and inside. The tables were black, as were the chairs, with only the smallest of gold decorations on them. The counter to order was also black, and very tall, and it was all so very much like how Laurent dressed himself, so very much opposite of how Etoile did anything Damen had seen yet. Damen couldn’t help but smile.

The baristas here seemed to know Laurent too, reacting warmly to Laurent’s ‘Bonjour.’ Without even needing to order, Laurent paid for whatever they were already preparing. After his own ‘Bonjour’ and weathering the curious gazes of the two baristas as they looked between him and Laurent, Damen ordered un petit café. Laurent grimaced visibly.

“What?” Damen asked after paying.

“It tastes like what I would guess gasoline tastes like going down your throat,” Laurent said. He motioned to where the barista was pulling the singular shot of espresso into an espresso glass, the crema on top sleek and shiny.

“It’s not that bad,” Damen said. Just then, the second barista handed Laurent his drink. It looked to be un café crème, a latte-like drink of espresso and steamed milk. Damen couldn’t help but notice the pile of sugar cubes next to the glass.

They took a seat outside, per Laurent’s lead, and Damen watched as Laurent took one of the sugar cubes and dipped it into his café crème just long enough for the sugar cube to take on a light brown color before popping it in his mouth.

“You like sweet coffees, I take it?” Damen asked. His espresso was warm in his hands.

Laurent hummed and took a drink. Damen wondered, briefly, if he was using the coffee to wash down the graininess of the sugar cube or if he was using the sugar cube to continue to sweeten the coffee he was drinking. “I was in New York for fashion week a few years back and tried this horrid sugary concoction they tried to pass off as coffee. It was a double-shot of espresso in a pool of chocolate and caramel, shaken with milk and ice, and topped with whipped cream. It was delightful. We don’t have anything quite like that here.”

“I’m pretty sure something like that would be considered blasphemy.”

“Very un-Parisian in every way,” Laurent agreed. He popped another sugar cube into his coffee, then his mouth.

It got quiet for a moment. Damen sipped his espresso and his mouth puckered at the taste. He had heard that Parisian coffee wasn’t up to par with expectations, but having spent as much time in Italy as Damen had in his life, he had a coffee-tuned palette that was displeased greatly with the drink in his hand. Across from him, Laurent was looking out at nothing in particular. This close, and with the newly shining sun facing them, Damen could make out the length of his eyelashes.

“So,” Damen began after it started to feel awkward, after he couldn’t help but shift around just to do something that wasn’t sip on espresso and stare at Laurent, “why are you doing this?”

“This?”

“Showing me and Nik around.” Damen paused as though thinking about what he was going to say. In reality he was waiting for Laurent to respond. When Laurent didn’t, Damen continued. “I’m not trying to sound rude, but you don’t exactly seem the type.”

That got a smile, however small, out of Laurent. “You don’t say.”

This time Damen did wait while Laurent, unhurriedly, took a drink of his coffee.

“I hadn’t been lying when I said that this would keep my uncle off of my back. Every year I spend weeks enduring his demands that I participate with his Paris’ Got Talent search photographers and every year that I don’t, his patience wears thinner. Over time I’ve chosen at least one photographer to,” he did air-quotations with the hand not holding his cup, “‘get to know’ for a day so that I can’t be lectured when I abandon the Friday luncheon early.”

“You’ve done this a few years?”

“Of course. It didn’t take me that long to figure out what to do to appease him.”

“And what made you choose Nik? Why not choose Guillame or someone else?”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” Laurent began, leaning back in his seat and crossing one leg over the other. “Guillame is a mumbling and weak little thing. Had I approached him about anything he would have pissed himself before he could find words. Hendric had other matters to attend to. Those matters, of course, being one of our makeup artists, Genevot. Talik and I would have had more conversation with a brick wall than each other, and Jeurre is a friend of my uncle’s and I am tired of old French men who are friends with my uncle. That, you barbarian, is how I found myself stuck with your friend and, in turn, you.” He paused to take another drink. “You two may be social media celebrities, but nothing could be easier for me than giving you a tour of the city I’ve spent my entire life living in.”

Damen ignored the jab about being a social media celebrity. “Alright, that’s fair enough.”

After running their dishes back indoors, Damen waited for Laurent to get off of his phone so they could go back to meet Nik. While walking, Damen found himself saying, “I don’t understand why you want your uncle off of your back so badly though,” before he could stop himself. He might as well have not said anything at all though. Laurent didn’t react.

Nik was ready and outside by the time they arrived. He had his camera in hand and was taking advantage of the emptier streets like Damen had, only he was using the opportunity to snap photos of Paris in the soft morning light. There was no acknowledgement from him that Damen and Laurent had gotten there but instead, like it was instinct, he turned the camera to Damen and Damen simply talked.

They fell into their normal routine.

“Routine” was probably an extravagant word for what they did. The reality of it was this: Nik occasionally had Damen move around and they chatted while Nik took photograph after photograph after photograph. Damen had learned a long time ago he couldn’t just stand there, it was too awkward, too forced. This “routine” allowed for Damen to not feel like he was doing something fake while also allowing Nik experience with a moving subject. It’s what had built Damen’s Instagram, these candid photos taken while Damen sometimes talked about the most mundane of things, like what he wanted for dinner or that tomorrow was leg day.

They chatted about nothing in particular at this moment. Damen asked how the cappuccino was, Nik said it was shit. Nik asked how the espresso was, Damen said it was shit. They discussed how shit French coffee was and how the next time they were in Italy they were going to drink espresso by the gallon. It wasn’t until the sun had completely risen over the horizon that they both remembered Laurent.

Laurent had been completely silent as they had gone on about like the day was any other day in a new city. When they both turned to him, he was leaning against one of the many columns of the hotel awning, his expression almost amused. Then, with a bored tone, he asked, “Are we done here? Or are you planning on standing outside of your own hotel the entirety of the day?”

On foot, they were able to witness how the streets gradually became busier with bustling herds of people off to work and tourists wandering in every direction. Despite the growing population around them, they could have easily gotten to wherever Laurent was leading them in a short amount of time, but Nik was stopping every five steps to take a photograph of something new. After about twenty minutes of this, Laurent finally let out a huff of annoyance. Damen was pretty surprised he held himself back that long.

“If you would stop taking pictures of every godforsaken lamppost in the city, you would find we are but a street away from something actually worthy of attention.”

In front of them was a building that looked to be made from the mind of Lewis Carroll. It was the polar opposite of everything else along the walk of the now very familiar Rue de Rivoli street, namely for the faces from a Steampunk world that stared out at every passing Parisian and tourist, beckoning them to come inside its bright yellow front door.

Laurent didn’t say anything. He waited while both Damen and Nik walked the outside of this odd building to take in the colors and the signs and the flowers made of metal hanging off of its railings and when he decided they had had enough time, he wandered inside. Upon entrance was a spiral staircase littered with hundreds of writings in mostly French, but there was also English, Arabic, Spanish, German, Mandarin, and Korean that Damen could spy along the way down.

Nik found a painting on the wall to their left, a painting of realistic gemstones glittering between the bones of a stark white skeleton. Next to it was a painting from the election in 2010. Next to that was a drawing of a school desk covered in various graffiti.

“What is this place?” Damen asked, his head tilted up to take in the paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling.

“59 Rue de Rivoli. Otherwise known as the Aftersquat,” Laurent said. He began descending the spiral staircase. “In the late nineties, three artists broke into this building. It had lain abandoned for nearly fifteen years and they had decided it could be put to much better use. Thus, it began to become what it is today, a set of artists’ studios.”

Damen and Nik followed, their eyes trained on the walls. There was every kind of art style imaginable along the way. Damen wasn’t an expert, but he recognized pop art and realistic art and abstract art. There was art that looked like it could have belonged in an old church, its style Renaissance-esque and Biblical. There was traditional and modern Japanese art as well as minimalistic art. It was overwhelming to the senses and yet entirely captivating.

“This place is insane,” Nik breathed, his eyes caught on a painting of a woman staring into a lake at her own reflection.

“It is French counter-culture at its finest,” Laurent said.

They were walking by a room that they realized quite quickly wasn’t a room at all, but an open artist studio. Laurent continued on, but Damen and Nik both stopped to peer inside when a man who had been staring at the doorway stood up from a desk and came out to the hallway far too excitedly.

“Laurent!”

Laurent turned to face the man, his face unreadable. “Torveld. I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I took a two-year sabbatical from the studio to return home for some time, but I couldn’t stay away. Paris has too much beauty to leave behind,” the man, Torveld, said. His face, unlike Laurent’s, was entirely readable, full of adoration and awe at Laurent’s presence in this place. “It is wonderful to see you again.”

“You as well,” Laurent said. “I assume since you’re back you’ll be meeting with Charls soon. He still adores your work.”

“I very much hope so. He’s great to work with and he does work with the most beautiful of models in all of Paris.”

Damen and Nik were standing somewhat to the side, quietly taking in Torveld’s blatant flirting. Nik gave Damen a look that said he was making a silent prayer in Torveld’s honor.

“Charls is wonderful, I’m sure you two will create something just as stunning as the last time,” Laurent smiled. “I’m sorry to rush off, but I did promise these two a tour and we’re already horribly limited on time.”

“I apologize,” Torveld said with surprise in his voice and even a little bit of laughter. “I’m being rude. I am Torveld Patran, one of the artists here in the Aftersquat. This is my third year of residency.”

“Damianos Vallis.”

“Nikandros Kyroi.”

Torveld motioned to the camera in Nik’s hands. “Are you one of the photographers for Etoile’s show this year?”

“Yes. Rehearsals start next week.”

“What an exciting time. Etoile truly houses the best Paris has to offer.”

“So you’ve said,” Damen chimed in.

Laurent was already down four steps toward the next level, and he threw a dismissive wave in Torveld’s direction as an end to the conversation and Damen and Nik did the same, their curious eyes focused on Laurent’s retreating form.

“This is the level that, I believe, will interest you the most,” Laurent said. Around them were photographs layered upon one another like they were pages in a book instead of art on the walls. There were black and white photos to the left and colored photos to the right, all of a variety of subjects. Nik, nearly in a trance, immediately wandered to the photos of a desert near the top of the right wall.

“You seem familiar with this place,” Damen said in reference to the building and its inhabitants as he watched Nik with a smile.

Laurent hummed. “Charls, Etoile’s designer, loves this place. A few years back he was here looking for inspiration for Paris Fashion Week and met Torveld. Torveld’s art is painted on fabric. Charls adored him and had me come meet Torveld as well and to compare Torveld’s art with my skin and my hair and so on. That year, it was no surprise the designs were based upon Torveld’s own. But I came to enjoy this place more than most.”

“Why?” Damen asked. Laurent turned to look at him, his expression unreadable once more.

“My uncle despises this place.”

Damen was going to respond, but just then Nik called him over to point out a photograph of Pulpit Pit. They both brought their phones out to pull up their own photos from that trip which had, of course, involved some very fun rock climbing at a different and less touris-filled area of the Rogaland region. While they talked, Nik began to take pictures of the room, of Damen, of the view down the rest of the open spiral staircase. Like at the hotel, they fell into what was natural for them and only when they remembered they weren’t alone did they stop to face Laurent who was leaning against one of the photograph-covered walls.

“I’m not used to not being in front of the camera,” Laurent said.

“Sorry,” Nik began, fumbling with the camera as if trying to figure out if he should put it down or turn its lens toward Laurent.

“It’s quite more relaxing on this end. Perhaps you can fill in for me during Fashion Week,” Laurent said, angling his head in Damen’s direction.

‘I could fill in a lot if you’d like,’ Damen found himself thinking before he could help it, but, luckily, he bit his tongue. Nik threw him a glare as if he knew what was running through Damen’s mind.

They wandered through every floor of 59 Rue de Ravoli with wide eyes and a camera ready for anything. Damen’s favorite art was a section of one of the walls on the fifth floor that was made like an ancient Greek creation, all inlaid with gold and people with straight noses. Nik kept wandering back to the floor with all the photography and even had a good chat with an artist that showed up around nine in the morning. Eventually, after they had seen a lot and not even a quarter of what was there, they exited out of the multicolored side of the door to leave.

The streets were busier at this time, but in the earliest days of March it wasn’t near as busy as it could have been such as in the summer. Laurent didn’t miss a beat in walking out of the door and onto the streets, and he began walking toward wherever he had set his mind to go. Like before, they would have gotten there earlier if it hadn’t been for Nik only, this time, it wasn’t really Nik’s fault. A group of (assumed) friends across the street were struggling in getting a group photo and when they saw Nik’s camera in hand they yelled across the way, causing quite a scene, to ask for a few pictures of them together.

“We’ve never been to Paris,” one girl stammered out, looking stressed.

“And we don’t know if we’ll ever get to come back!” another girl said.

“And selfie sticks can really only do so much,” one of the boys said too.

After a shove on the shoulder from Damen, Nik obliged and thus began an actual friendly photoshoot in the middle of a Parisian street just after breakfast. Eventually, after everyone seemed content with at least one photo each, Nik was freed and turned a slightly worried look to Laurent who must have been horribly irritated. But Laurent was on the phone, listening, not talking, and after it became evident he wasn’t going to get off of the phone with whoever he was on the phone with, Damen and Nik wandered up and down the street, taking pictures with beautiful and colorful doors, with script written signs and tiny alleyways, with clothing store fronts and bakery food items.

“What are you doing?” came Laurent’s voice out of the blue. Now he looked impatient. His right foot was angled out in front of him, the heel firmly planted on the ground almost as though he would begin tapping his toe against it at any moment.

“Waiting for you,” Damen said. Nik burned a hole into the side of Damen’s head with his stare. If Damen noticed it though, or cared, there was no sign. He looked at Laurent, meeting Laurent’s gaze without any kind of challenge. Laurent didn’t react. After a moment he said, “Let’s go,” and began walking as though all of this had been his plan the entire time.

Damen and Nik followed, or tried to anyway. It seemed as though Laurent was determined to have them tour the entire city on foot in a handful of hours with the pace he was walking. It was exhausting, Damen thought, as he tried to look up and around at the blur of buildings.

Damen spent a lot of time looking up. Whenever they travelled, which was always, he walked with his head and eyes up, taking in the way the sky set against unique skylines, taking in the way locals casually went around to their familiar spots, taking in the way that atmosphere felt around them. Right now, all of that was impossible with the worry he had of listing Laurent in the crowd or tripping over unknown grounds.

It was Nik, unsurprisingly, who finally forced them to come to a halt. There was something on a wall that caught his attention, and it was as though his camera gravitated to it without his own action.

It was impossible to miss, truly. It was exceedingly large, especially for its placement not but three-quarters of the way up on a wall, and it protruded from the wall at least a meter, casting large shadows all around. Its gold and black coloring shined on the plain beige of the wall it was on, but most striking were the gold figures. A man with a sword, a dragon, a crab, and a rooster, all made of hammered gold, stood under the watch of a round and golden clock. The hands of the clock were still, stuck, and people rushed by it without a glance.

“What is this?” Nik asked, already taking pictures.

“The Defender of Time,” Laurent said. He was staring up at it with something almost sad in his eyes. “It’s a clock. It hasn’t worked in years.”

Nik was moving so he was facing away from the sun, allowing his camera to pick up on the glint of the gold, on the shadows on the ground. “Why hasn’t it worked in years?” Damen asked.

“The funding for it ran dry. It’s expensive to keep a mechanical clock of this magnitude working.” He paused, his eyes scanning over the craggy landscape, over the gaunt face of the man with the sword. “It hasn’t worked since 2003. I never got to see it running, but my brother had apparently loved it.”

“What did it do exactly?”

“On the hour, the man would fight one of the three animals. Each animal is representative of something, those somethings being the ground, the sky, and the sea. It would depend on which animal the man was fighting, but each fight was accompanied by sounds, like the earth moving, the wind howling, or the waves crashing. But then three times a day the man would have to fight all three creatures at the same time.”

“You said it was a funding issue that turned it into this?” Nik asked. He was scrolling through the photos on his camera already. Laurent nodded. “Why not just fund it yourself then? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I’ve never seen it, how on earth could I enjoy it enough to spend money on it?” Laurent asked back. Then he was walking again, not sparing a glance for the Defender of Time.

Nik kept lagging behind, eyes catching on statues, on buildings, on people, and on light, and Laurent looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but here. Damen, picking up on that, did what he did best: talked.

He watched Nik change his angle around an extravagant statue of a man on a horse before asking Laurent, “How exactly did you get into modeling?”

“I was thrown into it,” Laurent said.

“Thrown into it? I thought you wanted to do it,” Damen said, recalling a conversation with Laurent’s uncle from days earlier.

“I did ask to do it, yes. But I never intended on it being my life.”

“But –”

“The wants of a thirteen-year-old are far different than the needs of one. I was too young to know what I needed.”

Damen knew there was a furrow between his brows, knew that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to probably piss Laurent off, and yet he asked, “Then why do you do it?”

Laurent finally looked at him, eyes scanning the expression on Damen’s face as though looking for something. “It’s what I know.”

He said it so simply, as though it made perfect sense, as though there was no other option at all and Damen was stupid for even asking such a question.

Damen was struggling with what to say, or ask, next. There were so many things running through his head, namely things that seemed to contradict one another, and he didn’t know where to start. Luckily, or unluckily, for him, Laurent had the next question already sorted out.

“You don’t know about my family, do you?”

For once there was no maliciousness or superiority in the tone of his voice. He sounded curious, his eyes trained on Damen’s face as though still looking for something, though Damen had no idea what.

Damen didn’t want Laurent knowing about his midnight-Googling, of the way his brain couldn’t put together that Laurent was the son of the slumped over bodies of Aleron and Hennike Devere.

“No.”

The word sounded strange coming out of his mouth. Laurent huffed, the sound almost a laugh. “Well you’re not from France so I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Content to keep adventuring, Nik joined them and broke the heavy tension. They began walking again, this time at a more leisurely pace, but eventually the need for food after a coffee-only breakfast made Damen’s stomach rumble in the middle of an alleyway where the sound almost reverberated off of the walls.

“We’ll want to get him food,” Nik said, still shuffling through photos. “He’s insufferable when he’s hungry.”

Damen didn’t argue. “Any recommendations?” he asked Laurent instead.

“Café de Flore is just around the corner.”

To say Café de Flore was busy would be an understatement. Damen was about to suggest something more casual so they wouldn’t have to spend most of their time awaiting their seats, but Laurent was known by the hosts who saw him and said something in French too quiet for Damen to hear. Before he knew it, they were being shown their table.

Nik asked for Damen to get him water before following signs to the restroom in the back. He took his camera and Damen rolled his eyes; it might be a few minutes before Nik was finished photographing every window and light fixture in the cafe.

“Do you come to this café often?” Damen asked Laurent who hadn’t even picked up his menu yet.

“I haven’t in a few months, but, yes, usually I’m here at least once a month or so.” His eyes were trained on the tablecloth, almost as if he was remembering something, before he said, “This was my mother’s favorite cafe in Paris. She said she used to come here almost every day when she first moved to the city.”

“Where was she from?

Laurent actually smiled, though Damen couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he was smiling at. “She was from Sweden.”

“My entire family is from Greece. Mostly from the same city and everything. It must have been nice having two different cultures to grow up within.”

Laurent hummed. “I suppose. Being in Paris, having a French father, and having him immersed in French politics made it oftentimes feel like a singular, all-consuming culture. But my mother did her best to take away some of the seriousness at times.”

“I wish I would have had something like that growing up,” Damen said, but he didn’t sound bitter.

“Was your mother as serious as my father?” Laurent asked. The corner of Damen’s mouth quirked.

“My mother died giving birth to me, so I never met her,” Damen said. There wasn’t any sadness there, feeling and being as removed from it as he was, but it changed the atmosphere in the room. “And my dad was quite serious. But,” he started, trying to change the atmosphere back to what it had been, “my brother’s mother was always kind to me and I feel lucky enough to have had her.”

“How old were you when your father remarried?” Laurent asked.

“Very young. Maybe two? But my brother, Kastor, was already around, had been since before I was born. And his mother had always been in the picture as well. So nothing really changed when my father remarried.”

This time, it was Laurent who had a furrow between his brows. He was just about to say something, ask something for clarification, when Nik came back to the table, just catching the tail-end of the conversation.

“Are you talking about Kastor?” Nik asked with blatant dislike in his voice.

“Yes, Nik,” Damen said with a sigh.

“Damen’s family has more drama than any show you’ll watch on television,” Nik said as he slid into the seat next to Damen. “His dad got Kastor’s mother pregnant back in 1984. Mind you, he got her pregnant while married to Damen’s mother, Egeria. Egeria stayed. Theomedes, Damen’s dad, was part of Kastor’s life and, in turn, Kastor’s mother’s life during all of that. A decade later, Egeria became pregnant and died. Then Theomedes deemed it okay to marry Kastor’s mother.” Nik stopped to take a sip of the water the waiter had left on their table silently. “You would think with Kastor being a whole ten years older he would be more mature than he is, but –”

“Nik, I don’t think Laurent needs or wants to hear about my family drama,” Damen said, doing his very best to change the topic. But Laurent was resting with his chin on his hand, face void of any judgement or emotion.

“Oh no, do tell. I feel as though there’s a story there and it’s only fair. I have been showing you around my city, it’s the least you could do.”

Damen wanted to argue, wanted to say that Laurent wasn’t showing them around out of the goodness of his heart, but instead he found himself saying, “Nik has always hated my brother so you’ll have to take that into consideration.”

“Damen,” Nik started with a sigh. “You –”

“Here, how about I tell it instead,” Damen interrupted. “My brother slept with my girlfriend while knowing of my plans to propose to her. She initiated it, but that doesn’t make it…” He trailed off at the end.

Both of Laurent’s eyebrows were raised, not in disbelief but moreso in fascination, when Nik said, “And sleeping with Damen’s girlfriend was just the final straw of things Kastor has said and done over the years.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” Damen started off just a degree louder so as to speak over Nik, “because I forgave them both, I moved on, and now they’re getting married. Clearly it was the right move on their part.”

“We are not doing this again, Damen,” Nik said.

“I may have to flag the waiter over for a drink,” Laurent said. “Do continue.”

Nik, predominantly, did continue until their food came. He rambled about Kastor’s jealousy, about Theomedes’ unwillingness to come across as having favorites, about Damen’s horrid inability to not immediately trust those he was expected to trust. Damen waved it all off with a dismissive hand, having a reason for everything, and Laurent listened silently but with rapt attention. Damen swore he saw something new in Laurent’s eyes, a kind of understanding of something Damen didn’t know.

Eventually they were off and walking, but not before a very heartfelt goodbye from the host to Laurent. There was something different in the way Laurent was acting now though. He was talking more, pointing out more landmarks and telling their histories with a less guarded facade up and surrounding him. He still wasn’t talking a lot, by no means a chatterbox, but it was as though the things that were necessary, like explaining the meaning behind a building’s title or the reason a gargoyle on top of one of the buildings was missing a bat-like wing came out of his mouth without thought.

He once even laughed – not a long and loud laugh mind you, but a small and quiet yet genuine laugh �� as they walked by Jules Lavirotte’s 29 Avenue Rapp and Damen said, “That reminds me of Etoile.”

“I’m not sure if that’s intended to be a compliment or not,” Laurent had said, more amused by that than Damen knew to make sense of.

Eventually, Nik’s instincts had him minding traffic as he crossed the street to ask a woman if he could take her picture. It made perfect sense; she was an older woman, probably in her sixties, maybe even seventies, and she was dressed like the model she most definitely was at one point. The black jumpsuit she was wearing was accentuated by the leopard print scarf that was tossed carelessly over one shoulder. Her red lipstick left a perfect ring on the cup she was drinking out of. She, unsurprisingly, relished in a photography session. It was obvious how stunning the photos would look, her backdropped against the cafe with its swirls in its name and its red curtains in the window.

Laurent seemed to be looking at nothing in particular whilst Nik when about doing his thing. Still standing in front of Damen from the position he had been leading them on their tour, Damen could take in the way the wind played with the end of the braid down his back.

“Can you explain this photographer thing to me?”

The question had left Damen’s mouth suddenly, but he knew why he had asked it immediately. It had been something that had been nagging him since this whole thing started, a thing Vannes had mentioned condescendingly almost (“...one of our photographer experimentees,” she had said with a laugh), a thing that, the longer Damen dwelled on it, seemed odd.

“What do you mean?” Laurent asked, not turning all the way around to face Damen, but turning enough so he could see Nik in his line of sight.

“The whole,” Damen paused to find the words, “competition of it. It’s not normal, is it? This isn’t a thing commonly done, having photographers send in applications and having them participate in a week of photoshoots and events in order to decide who should be at the show?” Damen waited for an answer, but when it never came, he kept talking, asked, “Is it a thing your uncle came up with to give unknown photographers a chance? He was a photographer when he first started, right?”

Laurent still didn’t answer right away, but now Damen had nothing else to say or ask. He continued to wait, trying to figure out why it was taking Laurent so long to answer, and when he couldn’t read Laurent’s face, he turned to watch Nik again. The woman was directing Nik around now and Nik did what she said without complaint.

“Etoile used to have its own photographers. Many of them were older, friends of my uncle’s from his photography days. Some of them are still around. But four years ago one of the photographers made an accusation toward my uncle. As you might expect, my uncle was quite displeased. From then on out he decided that finding new people who wouldn’t get the chance to become familiar with Etoile’s ins and outs.”

The explanation came as the last thing Damen expected to hear. He had perhaps expected a heartwarming tale of using one’s position to provide opportunity. He had expected a story of desire to find the best the world had to offer before anyone else. He had even expected a story of corporate desire to save money by hiring more unknowns. And all Damen could think as his brain tried to comprehend what Laurent had just said was what he had heard that first day of the photoshoots:

“Jeurre over there has worked with him before. Jeurre says that at a photoshoot two years ago, Laurent made one of the newer designers cry so hard that he quit on the spot. I’ve heard one of the current designers talking about how Laurent refused to let one of the newest models, one of the newest signees, be part of this show at all and put down his foot until his uncle gave him his way. I also heard another one of the models say that Laurent gets to lead all the shoots because of his name.”

“He’s a spoiled and entitled brat,” Vannes said matter of fact. “Over the years, he’s gotten mouthier, refused to listen to his uncle or the Etoile board on what he needs to do to represent us. He won’t re-sign because he doesn’t want to be told what to do.”

“Oh, yes, appearance-wise he is. But, as I said, the world of fashion is cruel and it made him cruel. I’m sure you witnessed some of his callous behavior.” Neither Damen or Nik confirmed, but they didn’t deny it either. Laurent’s uncle flashed them a sad smile. “It pains me that I couldn’t protect his innocence. I had thought I was doing the right thing in allowing him to choose his path in life but…” he trailed.

“What were the accusations?” Damen asked.

Now, Laurent turned to look directly at Damen and Damen felt horribly assessed as though he had done something wrong.

“Is there anywhere else you two would like to go before I leave you two to your own devices? I’m afraid I have dinner plans I’d like to not be late for.”

Damen looked at his phone. It was just after two in the afternoon.

Nik was joining them again, ruining the chance for Damen to figure out how to push for Laurent’s answer, and somehow took over the conversation. They ended up walking alongside the Seine once more, Nik stopping every now and then to take photos of peoples’ reflections on the water, all while Laurent led them to wherever Nik had negotiated as a final sight.

Eventually they came across a park with closely cropped grass and artfully trimmed bushes. It was the Parc André Citroën. It was fairly busy with people lying out on the grass, with people and their children admiring the water features. But what was most eye-catching was the enormous and unmissable balloon that read Balloon Generali in beautiful red writing.

Laurent was walking toward it, allowing his words to trail behind him with the wind. “This is the Balloon Generali, a hot air balloon that will get you to the second highest point in Paris.”

Damen could tell Nik was excited. Things like this were familiar territory for them, views and cityscapes. Sometimes they got there by climbing mountains and sometimes they got there by ski slope, but it was what they did, what they always wanted to do. Even Damen was dragged into the excitement, momentarily forgetting the uncomfortableness he had felt in that last conversation with Laurent.

They didn’t have to wait long to get on the balloon. Each ride was only ten minutes long and the ride before them had been up for at least half of that when they arrived.

The place to stand in the balloon was essentially like a donut. There was a hole in the center where people couldn’t go as the cable controlled by the hydroelectric winch was there to raise and lower the balloon. Damen and Nik filed in behind Laurent. There wasn’t a lot of room to move forward or back, but there were only a few other people on with them so there was plenty of space to go around.

They weren’t given much warning before the cable began to turn and Damen felt the ground fall out beneath them.

Nik was shoving Damen with friendly and familiar hands to stand where he could get pictures of him. Damen laughed, relishing in the feeling of the wind picking up around them, and ignored Nik in favor of staring out at the sights coming into view. They could see everything and could see more the higher they got. Right near them was the Seine which got longer and longer the higher up they got. Turning, Damen could see the maze of rooftops come into view around them, could see the Eiffel Tower across the way, a beacon for Paris, could see people walking streets and sitting on benches.

The camera was clicking in Damen’s ears as he turned and looked at Laurent. There was a strand of blond hair out of his braid and he was looking out at the city with a kind of contemplation. Damen wondered what it was like to live here, to have been here as long as one could remember, and Damen wondered what Laurent was thinking.

Nik found something else to garner his own attention which was a group of people on a rooftop across the river. He quickly changed a few settings before finding them. Damen knew the photos would be clear they’d be able to see the color of the men’s ties.

Too soon they were landing, the ground finding its stability under their feet once more, and they exited with windswept hair and Nik’s camera still clicking.

“I found something just over there,” Nik said, pointing in a vague direction. “I’ll be right back.”

He was off without waiting for Damen, or even Laurent’s, reply. And as he walked away Laurent shook his head physically. Damen didn’t like it.

“What?”

Laurent turned his cool gaze on Damen.

“Is this truly all you do? Take a million photos in a city and leave just to do the same thing in another?”

The huff left Damen’s mouth, but he heard Nik in his head saying, “He’s a spoiled, entitled, and, again, raging bitch. If he doesn’t like someone, he can and will make their life a living hell. And in this case, that means that if he doesn’t like me, it’s me whose life will be made a living hell.”

“We do actually work,” Damen said. “There’s a lot of planning, a lot of days we stay up until dawn making sure things are the way they need to be.”

“But you simply travel. Anyone with a camera phone and some money could do what you do,” Laurent pushed.

“Then why don’t they?” When Laurent’s gaze didn’t budge, Damen continued. “It wasn’t always like this either. We worked hard for our first year of travelling. And our hard work was enough to get us tickets to places, but not enough to get us in nice hotels or houses. We stayed in hostels, we ate cheap street food to save money, but we were happy getting to do this. Then it gained traction and we realized we would be stupid to not take an opportunity when it was presented to us.” There was a boiling feeling underneath Damen’s skin, one that had been there since the day he had taken in the extravagance of Etoile, since the day he had realized his joke about Nik having to deal with stuck-up high-fashion snobs was a reality and not just a joke.

“Besides,” Damen said, “I don’t have to explain my life to you, and I definitely don’t have to justify it. How is what we do any different than what you do? You stand there and look beautiful. Other people choose your clothes, other people do your hair, your makeup. Hell, you didn’t even have to work for where you are because your uncle owns the place and gifted you with an opportunity some people work years for and never get to have.”

Nik was calling out Damen’s name from somewhere behind, but Damen couldn’t not watch the way Laurent’s face transformed. It was the small things that changed; the subtle raising of plucked brows, the clenching of his jaw, the squaring of his shoulders.

“There’s a restaurant called La Grenouille Bleue around the corner,” he said, voice hard, just as Nik joined.

Without so much as a goodbye or even a snide comment, Laurent turned and left, his head high and his hair moving with each step.

“What was that?” Nik asked.

It took Damen a second to tear his look away from where Laurent had been, where he had just disappeared around a corner with a flash of gold. When he did, he found Nik’s look a mixture of genuine curiosity and What the fuck did you do now, Damen?

“High maintenance models,” Damen said, hoping that would be enough. It wasn’t.

“What did he say?”

That night, Nik fell asleep fairly early. As he had yawned for the seventh time in but a few minutes, he blamed it on Laurent’s early wakeup call and the fact that they probably walked twenty miles. Damen envied him now, watching for a moment as Nik shifted onto his left side. Tomorrow was the luncheon event and it was going to be a long day, but Damen couldn’t get his brain to stop thinking of Laurent. Infuriating and cold and everything his uncle had said.

Unbiddenly, his fingers were typing Laurent DeVere into the search bar on his computer again, almost as if trying to justify his current feelings. The images were all modeling photos, most of them runway shows, and Damen couldn’t help but curse that someone with Laurent’s disposition was so unbelievably beautiful.

The images went on and on, all professionally taken with but a few paparazzi photos outside of the now-known apartment building, and soon Damen found himself adding something to the search bar. He didn’t really know why. Laurent DeVere young.

The photos here were entirely different than the ones he had just seen. In the first picture was a beautiful blonde woman with perfectly styled hair and a small smile on her face. She was holding a bundle in her arms, a bundle wrapped in blue, and when Damen clicked on the image the caption said Hennike DeVere with her newborn son (2000). There was another picture, the one right next to the one of Hennike, of a child that was unmistakably Laurent at the age of seven or so with an older boy ruffling his hair. The older boy was nearly a man actually, probably nearing the age of twenty in the photo and he was looking at Laurent with unbridled affection. Auguste and Laurent DeVere at the UN Council Meeting (2008). There were more photos like those, ones of Laurent hiding from the cameras behind his brother’s broadening shoulders, ones of Laurent holding hands with his mother, and just a handful of ones of Laurent watching his father.

Not long down the list, however, there was a change. Damen saw Laurent’s uncle sitting in a velvet-lined chair, a tiny body in his lap leaving his dress shirt tearstained. Funeral of Auguste DeVere (2013) is what the caption said. There were a series of funeral photos next to that, ones with captions reading for Auguste DeVere (2013) and Aleron and Hennike DeVere (2013).

There was yet another shift, the only photos of it on the first page of results just at the bottom. Damen was sure they continued and were probably the entire content of page two. They must have been some of Laurent’s earliest modeling photos for he looked exceedingly young. His blue eyes were startling and large, trained on the person behind the camera as he clutched the sheer red fabric over his bare chest. Behind him were roses dripping with water and the water must have been on Laurent as well for the ends of his hair were curled and a shade darker than the rest of him. It was clinging to his eyelashes the same way it clung to the petals of the roses.

Laurent DeVere’s first magazine cover, February 2014.

[twiceinadream]

“Promises, promises...”

Requested: Yup

Request: Dom! Jeongyeon x reader oneshots/imagines

a/u: I usually don’t write requests I get the day of, but I honestly needed Dom! Jeong in my life too. And there will be a second post later tonight, since I have seemed to overcome my writer’s block. Thank you to everyone who wished me well, I hope you enjoy. (Also it’s a Fem! S/O since I really had no idea what to write [sorry if you wanted Non-binary!])

Category: NSFW and Fluff

Word Count: 1.4K

Jeongyeon gave a quiet yawn, shifting in the warm, comfy confines of the snuggle pile they'd collapsed into. Finish a world tour. Promote their new album. Award shows and then collapse into a loving, snugly pile of fluffy blankets in the living room. Jeongyeon couldn't help but smile. Last time they had done this, it turned out so well they had all agreed that the next time they all needed a well deserved nap after their hectic schedules, they weren't too proud to cuddle up with each other and just fall asleep. Cozy. Comfy. A snuggle pile with best friends. Jeongyeon loved it.

Maybe it had been an hour? Maybe two? Regardless, Jeongyeon woke up when something shifted around underneath her. Momo- who mumbled something about jokbal in her sleep, and snuggled into Mina; squeezing her lovingly like a stuffed animal. Mina must have been vaguely aware of this or perhaps dreaming of something similar, because she had Momo securely wrapped up in her own arms, the two Japanese girls nestled together and snuggling quietly while they both slept. Jeongyeon herself was locked in an embrace with you when she'd found herself dozing off earlier in the day. You guys had shared a secret little kiss before falling asleep in each others arms.

Only now it wasn't your arms Jeongyeon found herself snuggled into. Oh it was still you, alright. You smelled strongly: like lavender and vanilla, something Jeongyeon would never forget. You smelled a bit like a Heaven, but somehow, during her nap, Jeongyeon had shifted position, and now found herself with your legs wrapped snugly around her neck.

And in front of her, only inches from her face was the opening of your skirt. And that's when Jeongyeon got a horrible idea. A horribly, wicked, terribly, naughty idea.

First, though, Jeongyeon slowly flipped up your skirt and lowered your panties, admiring the tight little entrance in front of her. Snug. Perfect and taut. The sweet little venus you sported had the soft musky scent of lavender. Jeongyeon licked her lips and quietly went to work.

The first kiss was gentle; a little flicker of her tongue across the tight seal of your opening. She took her time, tracing the tip of her tongue softly along the outer folds. She went slow- slower than she would have liked. But, no. She wanted to savor this, to take her time and enjoy it. She let your tangy flavor dance across her tongue and Jeongyeon slurped up every ounce of taste she had to offer. Still, delicious as this was, it wasn't the fun part. Not yet. Jeongyeon frowned and pressed her tongue in- twisting it about until she felt the- ahhh, the little pleasure button you was hiding.

She circled you's clit once, twice, and grinned wickedly when you shifted above her. Jeongyeon glanced up, and offered you a dirty smile. You had woken up, and now peered down curiously at Jeongyeon with bleary, sleep drenched eyes.

"Wha...what are yo-" you sputtered, only to gasp when she felt Jeongyeon's tongue circle around her clit once more. Jeongyeon flashed you another wicked little grin, and your eyes widened. The game was afoot! Nervously, you tried to shift you position; trying to squeeze your thighs shut to deny Jeongyeon access- but Jeongyeon was already far too deep for that.

Her tongue wiggled and slurped, teasing you into a helpless silent squeal. If you could, you would have reached down to push Jeongyeon away, but your left arm was pinned underneath Tzuyu- who gave a quiet snore in her sleep and yawned. You couldn't move without waking up the others, and you had to stay quiet, less you were heard. Jeongyeon you wicked, wicked beautiful human being. You blushed furiously and shot Jeongyeon a glare. Jeongyeon returned it, continuing with her horrific torture.

I'll get you for this...

Promises, promises...

Jeongyeon gave a wicked little grin, and her ears perked to the adorable little gasps and squeaks that whispered out over head. You were doing your absolute best to remain quiet; squeezing your thighs around Jeongyeon's head and trying to bite back the squeals of pleasure that trickled from your lips. But it was all for naught.

Jeongyeon had her right where she wanted her. Sinisterly, the idol flicked her pink tongue across the little pleasure button of your sex, teasing it in slow gentle swirls, around and around and around. The scent was unmistakable now; flooding Jeongyeon's senses and drilling her into a world of arousal she could barely contain herself. Still, you were the target- she'd have to take care of herself after her little prank was over.

Delicately, Jeongyeon kissed the pouty little lips of your pussy. She planted loving kisses, quiet kisses, flickering little fluttery kisses. Soft, tickling buzzing, bumble-bee kisses, and slow sweet suckling kisses. All the while, you tried remain still, biting at her lower lip and struggling to hold back whimpers as Jeongyeon slyly brought her closer and closer to a sticky orgasm in front of all of your guy’s friends.

You 'squeaked' helplessly as Jeongyeon found a particular sensitive spot, freezing in place and shutting her mouth a moment after wards. Tzuyu shifted in her sleep next to you, ‘Oh! No! No no no! Don't wake up, please don't wake up!’

You weren’t sure if you could handle the humiliation of Tzuyu waking up in your arms, while you were a stone's throw away from an orgasm!

Luckily, Tzuyu simply gave a quiet yawn, and snuggled in closer to you, resuming her slumber while you held your breath. Below you, Jeongyeon gave a terrible snicker and slurped her tongue along your sex from base to top.

By this time, you had stopped secretly begging Jeongyeon to stop. She didn't know what would be worse- if Jeongyeon continued; pushing you over the edge and into a honey soaked climax right in the middle of 'nap time' or if Jeongyeon did stop, leaving you whimpering and needy for the rest of the afternoon. The prankster of Twice, was clever as she was cruel, you would give her that for sure. You were being pressed closer and closer still. You could feel your climax building, and Jeongyeon had no intention of stopping!

Jeongyeon kissed and licked, lazily toying with your sex and not giving you a moment to catch your breath. It took so much effort to keep from squeaking and squealing at Jeongyeon's intense teasing, and for every lick Jeongyeon gave, you had to try twice as hard to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure.

Closer and closer still. Every lick Jeongyeon gave you, you could feel her pleasure building into an unapologetic crescendo. You bit your lower lip, nervously glancing around at Tzuyu to your left, Momo and Mina below you, and Chaeyoung to Tzuyu's left. The wrong move- the wrong squeak, and one of them would be privy to an act you preferred to remain private between you and Jeongyeon. Somehow that made everything hotter and everything that much more intense. It was all just so naughty and forbidden and taboo and secretive- you gasped. You couldn't stop yourself! Right here in front of everyone!!

Jeongyeon took it slow- slower than you would have liked; lazily lapping over the your needy treasure, and almost squealing herself when your body finally, finally gave in to the delicious torture. A small trickle of slick leaked out over Jeongyeon's tongue, and she greedily lapped it up, enjoying each and every helpless shudder quietly made. Above her, you kicked and twitched, but in absolute silence.

Even still, Jeongyeon could tell your naughty little climax had been a very powerful one. Something about doing your best to keep it a secret must have riled you up like crazy. Oh yes, you would get her for this- of that she was certain, but for now, Jeongyeon enjoyed herself, with her face buried between your thighs. The room remained utterly quiet as you were forced to have a hard, silent orgasm and Jeongyeon loved every second of it.

The second eldest grinned evilly, wiggling herself back up into your arms, as you laid there blushing wildly at the other girl’s terrible prank. With your arms still pinned down, there was nothing she could do to strangle Jeongyeon the way you wanted. Jeongyeon leaned in to kiss you quietly on the nose, and snuggled in against you, wiggling in to get comfy before falling asleep.

"Love you." Jeongyeon whispered softly, close enough so only you could hear. Not that anyone else was awake anyway. You huffed quietly. Sweet as that was, you knew there was no way you’d ever get back to sleep; your mind already filled with infinite possibilities for revenge.

[liannyeong]

it was enchanting to meet you

Summary: “my thoughts will echo your name, until i see you again”

[part 1 || part 2]

Word count: 5990

Pairing: Jaebum X OC

Warning(s): angst

A/N: here’s the second part to the vow inspired au! enjoy ~ as mentioned before, the title and summary is from taylor swift’s enchanted.

early august 2019.

jaebum has been busy with projects all year long, ever since he returned. it took him some time before he got used to the routine again. he wasn't confident to take any projects for the first month or so, but he slowly accepted offers to get into the momentum. and now, his schedule is packed. there is barely any time to relax. but jaebum doesn't complain about it. rather, he's thankful that his time is occupied with work. after all, his personal life hasn't been the best for the past year.

"what's up jayb~" a voice interrupts jaebum's monologue.

jaebum sighs. there's only one particular person that tires him. he looks up from his camera to greet back. but he notices only one person. "hey bam. where's yeji?"

"ah, about that," bambam replies, scratching the side of his neck. "yeji's not participating this time. she's packed with other shoots. i got a new model but... she has zero experience."    

yeji always models for bambam's fashion collections, and the designer has always made sure yeji is his model, claiming that yeji brings out the best in his work. so it's unlike bambam to take a risk like this. nevertheless, jaebum trusts his decision to use a substitute. with a model that has no experience, it'll probably a long day, jaebum thinks. bambam eyes him, worried and at the same time, cautious. jaebum flashes him a smile and pats his back.

"i'll be nice," he assures the designer, who immediately looks relieved. bambam proceeds to call his model in for an introduction. but jaebum isn't interested. models come and go, so he barely pays them any attention. as long as they're able to conform to his instructions and directions, it'll be easy. he's busy setting up his camera, double-checking the theme when he hears a sharp intake of breath.

jaebum looks over and freezes.

jaein.

with her wide doe eyes, she's staring at him as if she just saw a ghost.

bambam speaks then, introducing the two, "jaein, this is jaebum, the photographer i always work with for my collections. jaebum, this is--"

"jaein," jaebum exhales. her name feels strangely familiar on his tongue despite not having said it aloud for so long.

"oh, you two know each other?" bambam blinks at them, clueless at the tension in the air.

"just a little," jaein replies in a small voice.

jaebum's eyes never left jaein. it's just been a long while since he last saw her. no, he hasn't been counting. he doesn't want to remember that memory when she-- no, let's stop right there.

she just smiles professionally, bowing politely, as she says, "please take care of me. i'm inexperienced in this whole... modeling thing."

jaebum keeps mum, nodding blankly. bambam doesn't say anything -- clueless still -- as he leads jaein to the changing room. in the meantime, jaebum tries to set his mind right: focus on his work and nothing else. he cannot be distracted with past memories.

but god, how can he not? jaein emerges from the room, make-up on, dressed in bambam's latest fall collection, making jaebum's heart skip a beat. she looks beautiful, his traitorous mind keeps whispering. there are only a handful of outfits for her to change into, but she seems to shine in every one of them.

it's obvious that jaein has zero experience in modelling. her posture a little awkward, expression rather dull. but as jaebum directs her, she gets the hang of it slowly. jaein has a naturally beautiful body, jaebum realizes. that is why bambam chooses jaein as his model. her figure is similar to yeji's: lean, petite and feminine.

for one particular close-up shot, jaebum instructs jaein to put her hand underneath her chin and look directly at the camera lens. but he quickly regrets it, for he gets entranced with her eyes. it's like a blackhole: her gaze sucking him in, no way out. it's been so long time since she looked at him directly in the eye.

jaein blinks, a little confused. and jaebum realizes how distracted he was and quickly snapped out of it. he brings the camera up to his face, its body covering his burning face. jaebum mentally berates himself for the momentary slip-up.

a few more shots and then, jaebum announces the end of the shooting. bambam emerges from the corner, looking pleased as he stands in front of jaebum's computer screen, the photos displayed. he beckons the new model to see the photos too.

"you look great!" bambam praises the female from the side. jaebum notices how she pinches the boy's arm, embarrassed.

"it's because i'm wearing your designs!" jaein flounders, giggling. "and besides," she continues, tone now normal and polite, "the shots were taken well."

jaebum feels a pair of eyes on him, and it makes his skin warm. he turns, and jaein is looking at him directly, unafraid. her lips curl up into a smile. jaebum feels breathless. when did he last see that smile, jaebum doesn't even know. her eyes twinkle, sincere, as she utters. "thank you."

it feels like time has stopped and his vision tunneled only for jaein. it's like a sweet dream that jaebum would never want to wake from. it reminds him of the time when they were washing dishes at the cafe, and they had been playful, splashing water at each other. at that time, jaebum wished for jaein to be in his life forever. but look at them now. just strangers with a past.

jaebum clears his throat, stuttering, "t-thank you..."

but it's all drowned out by bambam whining from hunger. the designer pushes jaein into the changing room, urging her to be quick. within record, the two hastily left jaebum's studio, leaving him all alone with jaein's photos still displayed on his computer.

---

early october 2019.

afterwards, jaebum hasn't heard anything from jaein. no, he hasn't asked about her. but he knows that bambam is in constant contact with her. heck, he goes to the yoo's cat cafe weekly, claiming to have fallen for the cats there. the designer keeps pestering jaebum to visit their cafe, not knowing that he lived there for almost half a year.

nevertheless, jaein has been frequently appearing in jaebum's dreams. it's not the same scene, but it has a common theme. they would spend the time together -- sometimes going on dates, sometimes just laughing about nothing in particular and other times lazing around in bed -- but the dream always ends with jaein calling his name. just a plain "jaebum" followed by a soft smile. she would always be glowing, the sunlight always on her back.

jaebum doesn't know why he has been dreaming of her, but now his mind is plagued with thoughts of jaein. like some lovesick puppy, he would always want to know more about jaein's day. just a glimpse of her face would be enough too. but circumstances disallow him. he cannot drive to ilsan in the middle of the night just to see her. god, that would make him a creep. so he just bears it within himself, tries to contain it despite the growing urge to seek it out.

jaebum has an exhibition coming up, and it has taken his mind off certain things. or rather, a particular person. he had a fleeting thought to invite jaein just so he could see her again. but he decided not to. he doesn't want to transgress any boundary between them, if there is even one. jaein probably wouldn't want him in her life anyway. jinyoung had scoffed at his opinion, arms were crossed in disapproval.

"you're just assuming things," his best friend had said.

but jaebum doesn't think so. because if he was in jaein's shoes, he wouldn't want to do anything with the person who hurt him the most.

"but that's not for you to decide," jinyoung had responded.

yeah, it's not. he doesn't have a say in anything jaein does now. yet he just feels that it's wrong to try to insert himself into jaein's life again.

but in this moment, seeing jaein in his exhibition, jaebum thinks it's a mirage. did he miss her so much, yearn for her so much that he starts hallucinating? he sees her waltzing through the main door, dressed in a simple peach sweater tucked into blue denim jeans. he hadn't sent her an invitation at all. it must have been--

"i invited her," jinyoung says from his side. jaebum didn't even hear his friend's footsteps, too focused on jaein. the younger man squeezes jaebum's shoulder. "go talk to her."

"i'm not sure if i should..."

"just think of it as a host-guest interaction," jinyoung advises. "start small. maybe it'll grow bigger." he grins. jaebum doesn't know what his friend is plotting in his head but he reckons the idea isn't bad. so the man takes a deep breath, smoothing his clothes before making his way.

"hello," jaebum starts.

"hello," jaein greets back, a friendly smile on her lips. "congratulations on your exhibition. i just reached but your works are truly splendid."

jaebum preens at the compliment, thanking her. "would you like a personal tour?" he offers.

"um-- it's fine. i don't wish to burden you."

"it's not burdensome at all. i'm free anyway."

jaein is reluctant in accepting the offer. but when jaebum insists, she gives in. pleased, jaebum brings her around the hall, providing the background information on his works, commenting a little on his thought process as he goes along. he doesn't know how time has flown by so fast. they finished the tour but he craves for more time. he doesn't want the day to end so soon. he doesn't want jaein to leave yet.

"i hope i wasn't boring you," jaebum says, passing her a cup of water when they're in the vip lounge room, away from the masses. they sit comfortably next to each other. jaein doesn't even try to move away.

"oh no, you weren't. i liked it very much, thank you," jaein assures him, sipping on the water.

"really? then shall i have a pop quiz about the works?" he teases.

jaein laughs, a sound jaebum hasn't heard in a long while. "bring it on!"

jaebum's eyebrows raised high, surprised that jaein is willing to take up the challenge. he thinks for awhile, then starts asking the simple questions. surprisingly, jaein gets it all correct. she really did listen to his commentary.

"do you have a favorite piece?" he asks.

jaein nods. "i like the shot of the stray cats in an alley. it reminds me of home."

that shot was taken when jaebum roamed around the streets for inspiration. he noticed a cat making its way into the alley. out of curiosity, he followed and that was how he saw a few stray cats making themselves comfortable at the weirdest spots. the scene paralleled his life at that moment: lost, left abandoned. but unlike the cats, jaebum doesn't have a place he can call home. there's only a place for him to rest. he's all alone.

"do you have a favorite?" she echoes his question.

"none," jaebum replies honestly, much to jaein's surprise. "i mean-- i do have a favorite piece, but i didn't put it out to the public."

"and why is that?"

"because..." jaebum trails off. it's hard to say. his favorite piece wasn't even his personal project. it was during the photoshoot for bambam's fashion collection. the shot of jaein looking directly at the camera, lips a little parted, eyes glazing. jaebum had stared at that photo for so long, he reckons it's tattooed in his mind. worse still, jaebum had actually printed it out in a huge canvas but stored away in his room, covered with a large cloth. perhaps that is the root cause of his constant dreams.

when jaebum snaps back to reality, jaein has expectant eyes on him. his answer never came because the door opens suddenly. there's footsteps approaching and a call of his name. jaebum sees how jaein becomes more upright now as if she's putting up walls. before he can even turn, there's a pair of arms wrapping around his neck from behind.

jaebum glances sideways, enough to see the person behind him. "you said you weren't coming."

"well, yeah, initially. but my schedule was finished so i have time now!" seulgi returns gleefully.

"i shall make a move first," jaein pipes up and seulgi looks as if she just noticed the female. "thank you for the invitation," she says. her eyes connect with jaebum's, and even if it's for a moment, jaebum feels his heart soar.

he chokes out, "you're welcome."

jaein smiles, politely bidding goodbye before walking away. jaebum can't help but watch her retreating back as she exits. she shuts the door and the sound of it echoes in the room. similar to his heart, jaebum feels void, empty.

"so!" seulgi brings his attention back. "are you done?"

"um, yeah. you don't want to look around?"

"nah, it's boring," seulgi says nonchalantly. it shuts jaebum. "let's grab dinner!" the female drags jaebum by the hand.

---

late october 2019.

"seulgi wants to continue with the engagement," jaebum confides in his best friend. he has been on the fence about it. seulgi brought up the topic during their dinner on the day of his photo exhibition. now that jaebum is back and well-adapted to his old life again, she suggested their relationship continue too. but jaebum wasn't able to give an answer then, requesting some time to think. he noticed how her smile dropped, but she quickly returned a wide smile. she even allowed jaebum to take as long as he needs.

"but i... i don't know. i just don't want to be in any relationship right now," jaebum adds. he sighs, leaning back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. "honestly, i feel like i don't even know myself anymore. i was so sure about seulgi back then. but now, i don't even know if i could love her the way i used to."

jinyoung has kept his silence, carefully lending a listening ear. but when he speaks, his tone is cautious, words stringing out slowly. "if you must know," he starts, "i never liked seulgi that much."

jinyoung's sudden confession has jaebum wide-eyed, mouth agape. his own best friend dislikes seulgi, yet he didn't mention it once. when their eyes meet, jinyoung wears a serious expression.

his friend says, "people kept saying how you two are the perfect couple: highschool sweethearts that defied the 'breaking up during college' curse. but i always felt that you two are not meant for each other. it always seemed as if you're the only one in the relationship. you loved her more than she loved you. it was an imbalanced, one-sided relationship that i don't even know why you stayed for so long!"

jaebum's mind starts replaying memories with seulgi. true, there were moments when jaebum felt as if he's alone in the relationship. during college, jaebum remembers making time for her despite his busy schedules and tight deadlines. but seulgi always spent her free time hanging out with her other friends instead. and he always felt unappreciated for seulgi seldom goes out of her way for him.

yet he chose to stay with seulgi because of the butterflies he felt in his stomach whenever they're together. he chose to stay because even though seulgi's not always around, jaebum has someone to talk to. someone to share his moments with even if seulgi isn't that responsive.

but... why does that make him sound lonely? is seulgi just someone jaebum can channel his emotions to?

"towards your wedding day, do you remember?" jinyoung speaks again. "you were always on the edge."

the memories unfold like a crumpled piece of paper. jaebum hadn't realize his inability to recall anything leading up to the wedding and the accident. he remembers the good days spent in the past. he remembers his school days, from elementary all the way to college. he can recall his friends' faces and names. he knows everything but not the weeks before the wedding.

the next memory he has is waking at night (or early morning, he doesn't know), with blood trickling down his forehead, laying fully clothed on the side of a deserted road. not even a car was in sight, no belongings were found on him. he couldn't recall anything then, but neither was he lost nor scared. heck, he was oddly calm at that moment. out of pity, the cashier at the nearest convenience store bought him bandages, a bottle of drink and a cup of ramen. thereafter, jaebum spent the rest of his days aimlessly until he chanced upon the cat cafe and was given a proper shelter.

but now, with jinyoung slowly unraveling the truth, the missing pieces of the puzzle is retrieved too.

"you were so anxious," jinyoung continues. "you worried a lot. you kept wondering if you were making the right decision. there's no denying that you love seulgi, but you were no longer sure if you could be truly happy with her. you told me you no longer felt connected to her. you said you felt distant from her as time went by. you proposed to her only because it was the next logical step."

"but you went missing and--" jinyoung pauses. "when i found you at the cat cafe, it looked as if you were a completely different person! the way you and jaein looked at each other... you were so love-struck. yeah, perhaps you were happy with seulgi. but honestly, you looked much happier with jaein."

"but i hurt her," jaebum admits. "i hurt her so bad. will she ever forgive me--"

"i extended the invitation to her in hopes you'd actually talk it out with her," jinyoung interjects. "but instead, you had dinner with seulgi."

jaebum breathes heavily through his nose. he didn't want to have a dinner with seulgi in the first place. he wanted to stay longer with jaein. he wanted to spend more time with her. but the universe doesn't seem to agree with his plans. seulgi just had to pop up at the last minute. she just had to disrupt the flow. god, how much jaebum wished seulgi never showed up that day,

"look," his friend starts again. "i'm not gonna tell you what to do. but i want you to weigh your options. who do you truly wish to spend the rest of your life with?"

their eyes meet, and jinyoung has this leveled gaze. it's as if he's calculating something in his mind. jaebum swears he could hear the shifting of gears in his friend's mind. he leans back, arms crossed atop of his chest, a smirk on his face.

"but i think the answer is obvious since you keep a portrait of a certain someone in your room."

jaebum only keeps mum.

---

early november 2019.

impulsively, jaebum visits the cat cafe. but in his defence, he was in the area. he had an outdoor photoshoot that is located in ilsan. so he didn't think it would hurt anybody with a surprise visit. the twins are no doubt, in total shock. but youngjae is furious. his face is so red, gaze ablaze when his eyes meet jaebum's. if looks could kill, jaebum would have been murdered in the most brutal way possible. he almost lunged at jaebum, if not for jaein holding him back.

"i'm sorry," jaebum utters, voice shaky. "i was wrong. i... i'm truly sorry."

"an apology won't fix anything, you jerk!" youngjae screams. "how dare you step into this place! how dare you come back!"

"youngjae, please--" jaein tries to placate her brother, placing a hand on his chest. that seems to do the trick for the man glances at his sister, exchanging a look. jaebum can never understand their communication through eyes. these twins, jaebum thinks, they're telepathic.

then youngjae glares at jaebum. he points a finger at him, warning, "i would have punched you if not for my sister. you hurt her again, i'll make you pay." he storms off, but doesn't move far. it's just enough to give privacy for the remaining two to talk.

jaein gestures jaebum to sit at the table. she makes two mugs of hot tea, placing one in front of jaebum. then she takes the opposite seat to jaebum.

"youngjae was mad when i went to your exhibition," jaein says, voice hushed like a whisper. she looks over her shoulder, glancing at her brother who has busied himself with grooming the cats. but jaebum knows he's keeping a close eye on him. it's understandable, jaebum says to himself. he hurt his sister so bad, of course youngjae would be protective of her.

"then why did you?" jaebum asks, quiet.

jaein stares at the table, fingers wrapped around her mug. "i guess i just wanted to see how you were doing. your exhibition was packed so it gave me assurance that you're doing really well. and that i needn't worry anymore. but i didn't expect to bump into you."

"thank you for coming down. i truly appreciate it."

"anyway, what brings you here?" jaein asks a moment later, leaning back with her arms crossed.

"i don't know..." jaebum weakly answers.

jaein has a small frown on her face. she must be confused with his answer. he came here on impulse. no purpose at all. besides, he was made clear that he's not welcomed anymore.

"how's seulgi?"

hearing that name already has him feeling... void? he doesn't even know how to describe it. perhaps seulgi was once the apple of jaebum's eye. but now, jaebum wonders if he even feels anything for her.

"she's fine... i think," jaebum answers. he doesn't know why he says the next sentence, but he just feels the need to inform jaein. "we're not really... together now. things haven't been working out so well."

his thoughts start to flow slowly, words pouring out his mouth like a viscous liquid. it comes out almost naturally, even jaebum himself is surprised at the honesty he's expressing. "i just... i just don't know myself anymore," he starts. "even with all these memories, i don't remember myself. i can't seem to find myself anymore. i feel lost."

jaein hums, listening attentively. "maybe... you should approach in a different way?" she suggests. "i mean-- you've been engrossed in piecing your memories together. but what about your heart? what does your heart say?"

"my heart," jaebum echoes. he ponders. what has his heart been saying? what has his heart been feeling? he's aware that his heart has changed. he's not really into seulgi anymore. he has noticed that his heart has been yearning for someone else instead. but his mind has always come up with its own reasons to counter his heart's whispers.

"my heart is at war with my mind," he answers. jaebum has his eyes locked on jaein's. she waits patiently for his elaboration. "my heart wants what it can't have."

jaein's eyes are relentless as she presses, "and what exactly does your heart wants?"

jaebum doesn't look away as he exhales, "you."

he sees how her expression changes. jaw taut, eyebrows furrowed. perhaps it's a hint of anger, he doesn't know. jaein is the first to break the eye contact. then she scoffs. "why? why now?"

"were you not happy with seulgi?" she spits. "just a year ago, you looked so in love with her. why the change in heart?"

jaebum winces at the sharpness of her voice. her eyes are blazing now.

"you seemed so sure with her during the return party. god, you didn't even bother to tell me about her!" she raises her voice.

jaebum's voice comes out small when he speaks, "i was scared... i couldn't understand my feelings at that point. the moment i saw seulgi, everything -- every single memory -- came back! it felt natural to be with seulgi again. but at the same time, i-- i kept thinking about you. so i was just scared... that things wouldn't work out well. i wanted to wait to make sure about everything--"

jaein lets out a bitter laugh. "you make it sound as if i'm a safety net for you. that if seulgi did not take you back, you'd come to me."

jaebum leans forward, a sense of urgency washing over him. "no, that's not it! i don't think of you that way-"

"did you even hear yourself?" she cuts. "you left me hanging while you were busy enjoying your time with someone else! you threw me aside like i was nothing! and now what? you want me back?"

"i--"

"it's time for you to leave," youngjae's voice cuts in. jaebum didn't even notice him approaching.

the heated atmosphere has simmered a little though it got jaebum catching his breath. jaein is breathing heavily too, face red with anger. but jaebum supposes he deserves it. it's a battle he was bound to lose from the start. his shoulders slump in defeat. jaebum takes youngjae's hint, standing up.

apologetic, he says, "i'm sorry. it's wrong of me to want you back as if nothing happened. i won't-- i won't disturb you again."

it breaks his heart when he utters those words, but it's for the best. it's what he deserves anyway.

---

late december 2019.

jaebum tries to block out every single thought of jaein. he drowns himself into work, doesn't let himself rest too long. he's always on his feet, moving from places to places, doing projects after projects. even when he doesn't have any photoshoots, he's always editing the shots. so imagine his surprise when jaein shows up at his studio on a weekend, looking ever so pretty. he almost thinks it's another hallucination but when she comes close enough that he can smell her perfume, he knows she's real.

"can we talk?" jaein asks, uncertain. she glances at jaebum's computer screen.

the man just nods, saving his work before leading her to a small meeting room, the place messy with project drafts. jaebum offers a hot beverage but jaein refuses.

"i just want to apologize," she begins slowly, "for how i acted during our last conversation."

jaebum opens his mouth to disagree. that she has every right to get angry at him. that he deserves it. but jaein doesn't give him a chance to speak, reasoning, "i don't think it was the best way to handle it. so that's why i'm here."

she pauses for a while, then says, "i want you to know that i've forgiven you."

jaebum looks at her, head empty, confused. her lips curl into a small smile, more sad. she continues, "you hurt me but i was harsh too. it took me some time, but... i decided to forgive you and let it all go."

"thank you," jaebum utters, nodding. but his mind clinging onto the last part of her speech. jaein probably just wants to close this chapter and start a new one. perhaps with someone else, he doesn't know. doesn't ask. and perhaps he's too cowardly to find out the truth.

"jaebum," jaein calls out. and the man flinches. it's as if he was doused in a bucket full of ice cold water. it reminds of the dreams he kept having, in which jaein only ever says his name, nothing more.

"i keep dreaming about you," he confesses.

jaein's face hardens, cautious. "and what was i doing in your dreams?" her voice is like a whisper.

"just calling my name," he answers, eyes flicking at jaein's face, meeting her eyes. he hears his heart beating in his ears. a loud thrumming. he smiles painfully, mind echoing the way she calls his name. "you haven't-- you haven't said my name in a long time."

silence hangs in the air. there's tension and it's a little too heavy on jaebum's chest. it pins him down to his seat, and it immobilizes him. he wonders if jaein feels it too. she rises from her seat, moves towards him. he expects her to just walk out the room, to leave him alone again. but she doesn't. she stands behind him, bends forward, arms wrapping around his chest, cheek pressed against his temple. jaebum doesn't relax into the embrace no matter how much he wants to. because if this is temporary, he doesn't want to get too attached to it.

"jaebum," she whispers his name.

he stares into space, mind blank. now he thinks he has gone mad. he laughs to himself like a maniac.

"i must be dreaming..." he says to himself, the heels of his hands rubbing over his eyes. but the action spurs tears to fall. jaein must have realized this for she reaches for his face, wiping away the liquid with her thumb. jaebum feels the warmth from her hand seeping through his skin. the smell of her perfume stronger.

"i'm sorry, jaebum," she utters softly, her voice sad.

the male lunges forward, arms winding around her waist, face buried into her stomach. jaebum sobs, "don't go. please don't go. please don't leave me alone. stay. stay with me. don't leave me alone. don't go."

he feels her hands on his shoulders, lightly pressing onto the area. jaebum only tightens, not wanting to part. but she's insistent, pushing at his shoulders a little more strongly now. so jaebum obeys. he loosens his hold, but his fingers curl into the back of her shirt.

jaein slides a hand up, resting against his neck, only her thumb touching his jaw. she brushes the skin there, and jaebum sees her soft smile, eyes equally moist. then she bends down, the angle a little too awkward for her but she doesn't bother. jaebum feels her lips press onto his forehead, soft and warm. even when she pulls away, her hands stay put on his body, and the kiss feels like an imprint on his skin.

"i'm not going anywhere," she says, hushed.

then she steps back, letting him go. she's almost at the door when jaebum stands on his feet, in a mild state of panic.

"can i... can i see you again?" he asks, voice shaky.

jaein shoots him a smile. sincere. "you know where to find me."

---

late february 2020.

moving apartments has never been an easy task. jaebum gets sentimental easily, he realizes. he can't even throw away his first camera even though it has been spoilt for years. he keeps it in a box, hidden away in his home and long forgotten. yet he can't bear to throw it away. or anything at all. so it's no surprise that he has way too many things to shift into the new apartment.

jinyoung has kindly offered to help. his friend has been nothing but the best pillar of support for the past year or so: always lending a listening ear or a shoulder to lean on. he understands the reason for jaebum's decision to move out.

when he reaches the new place, it's much cheaper and smaller than his previous apartment. but jaebum reckons he will find it a better place to live in. it takes a few days before he fully settled in. and it takes a few more before he finally bumps into the person he yearns to be close to. just a few blocks away from his new house.

"hi," he greets.

"jaebum," she breathes. then belatedly, "hi."

"how have you been?"

"fine," jaein answers, smiling. "everything's been fine. you? did you have a shoot around here?"

"no, actually i... i moved here about a month ago," he informs. jaein has her brows raised high, surprised. either she's surprised that he moved or that she didn't chance upon him earlier. if it's the latter, jaebum made sure they wouldn't cross paths before he was ready. he wanted a clean start, a fresh page to write.

jaebum offers a small smile. "i finally found the answers i sought," he explains. "and i followed my heart. it led me to this place. to you."

"but... what about seulgi? and your studio?"

"i broke it off with seulgi. i told her the truth. it didn't feel right anymore," jaebum answers. "i don't want to stay in the studio anymore. i'm doing outdoor photography now."

jaein nods, seemingly relieved that jaebum has figured things out. but a few seconds later, he notices her cheeks turn a little rosy. she murmurs, "so... you're not seeing anyone now?"

"no... are you?" he swallows his spit. "seeing anyone?"

"no..." she says quietly, shaking her head.

now it's jaebum's cheeks that feel warm. "then... would you like to have dinner? with me? like a date? unless you're uncomfortable with that--"

jaein smiles, chuckling. "that would be splendid."

---

mid october 2020.

it's one of the rare weekends that jaebum has the luxury of sleeping in. work has been tough. he traveled to too many places for various projects, the deadlines close to one another. jaebum's personal time has been reduced to the bare minimum. so little rest, jaebum thinks he can burst any moment. but the best thing now is that he has someone next to him. someone to come home to.

still cozily wrapped in his blanket, the quiet morning could have never been anymore peaceful. but the other side of the bed is cold, empty so jaebum chooses to get out of bed.

he sees his beloved in the kitchen, busily making what seems like a pancake. jaebum pads his way over to her, snaking his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder, cheek pressing against hers.

"morning," she greets, a smile in her voice even though jaebum couldn't see.

"pancakes?" he mumbles.

she nods. "i was planning to make you breakfast in bed. but now you're here."

"it's because you weren't in bed when i woke up. so i had to get out of bed."

"yeah, yeah. let's eat."

she brings the plates to the dining table but jaebum leads her to their room instead. they settle on the bed, comfortable, and dine. when they are finished, jaein moves to dump the plates in the kitchen sink but jaebum snatches them away and sets it aside on the side table. he gets under the covers and opens his arms, inviting jaein in. she doesn't refuse. she snuggles close, her head placed on his chest, a hand on his upper stomach. jaebum keeps a hand stroking her head, the other hand fiddling with hers.

it's slow and lazy, and they bask in the peaceful morning.

"you know," jaebum breaks the silence, voice almost like a whisper. "i always thought a home has to be a place. but i know better now."

jaebum looks down when jaein shifts. she's looking at him, eyes beautiful. "what do you mean?"

he smiles at her, then he takes her hand in his, brings it up to his lips. he kisses the fingertips slow. she giggles.

"you gave me shelter when i was lost," he says. "you loved me when i was a nobody. you forgave my mistakes. you accepted me with all my flaws. so thank you. thank you for waiting for me. for loving me."

she drags herself up, hands sliding up to his shoulders. she smiles sweetly.

"welcome home," jaein utters.

then she leans down, plants a kiss on his lips. it leaves jaebum chasing after it. so he adjusts themselves, pushes her down to lay on her back as he looms over her, cupping her face. jaein brings her hands to his wrists, and the sunlight that seeps through the curtains makes the silver band around their fingers gleam.

jaebum leans down, close enough that they're breathing into each other, his lips ghosting against hers. he whispers, "you're my home."

then he closes the gap.