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reneejuliet · 4 years ago

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The bells of change.

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Rating: E (still absolutely nothing)

Word Count: 1,247

Genre: Fluff, Soulmate AU

Author’s Note: Here’s the sequel! Well, I say sequel, but it’s more like an installment. These “pieces” are going to be snippets of a story, as that’s probably all I’ll have time to write out. But I hope you like it! The photo above is edited by me.

You can read the first part here.

Happy Reading!

You were exhausted.

Two weeks ago, your days had been cinematic. Soaring mountains, neon cities, blooming country sides: they’d all provided breathtaking backdrops for a month’s worth of adventures with your best friend. Your passport still sat carelessly on your desk, pages brimming with the timeline of your travels. The trip had been impulsive, and exhilarating.

And expensive.

Despite all your scrimping and saving and the meticulous planning you had put into the excursion, your bank account had still been stretched incredibly thin. After all, you still had bills to keep up with while you were away experiencing life. Not that you regretted the trip – the very opposite, actually. You’d never known such freedom, such peace. And oh, what you wouldn’t give to be back on a distant shore, toes buried in the sand and bathed in moonlight, watching your friend frolic haphazardly through the dark waters.

Instead, you find yourself back in your studio apartment on the far side of town after another long day at work. Only the light above the stove is there to greet you at this late hour, left on by you to prevent any more stubbed toes or banged shins. After all, the only window you have in your “living room” faces a brick wall attached to a ten-story building. You aren’t exactly familiar with natural lighting.

Still, the apartment is home, and has been for some time now. It may not be conveniently located to your work – 45 minute commute by bus, 30 by taxi if you ever had the money to spare for one – but it’s cheap enough that even with your commuting fees, you manage to come out on top each month. And that’s really all you could ask for. Plus, it’s just you living here, and you’ve never been a flashy kind of person. If anything, the plain, boring space suits you rather well.

You had just thrown your coat over the back of your kitchen chair and dropped your bag onto the counter when the familiar chime of your phone sounds from the confines of your pants. Instinctively, you groaned. You knew that sound.

Another work email.

Even though you had clocked out almost 2 hours ago, your phone had not shut up since you had left the building. Your return from your vacation had been timed perfectly with the start of the busy season, and thus had buried you in orders before you’d even had your first cup of coffee. Ever since, you’d been working longer and longer hours to try and stay afloat. This often meant working off the clock and answering emails from the comfort of your own home.

Needless to say, you’d grown conditioned to hate that particular series of bells.

Tonight, however, you choose to ignore the siren call of work in favor of heating up some leftovers you’d been dreaming about all day. It was Friday, after all. Even if you responded to this beck and call, it likely wouldn’t be received until tomorrow, let alone appreciated by your bosses until the coming Monday because they got to leave work behind when they clocked out. So, screw it. You were taking the rest of the night for yourself.

The food in the microwave, your clothes changed out for a comfy set of pjs, and your laptop tucked under your arm, you settled into your favorite spot on the couch. Flipping the screen open, you punched in your log-in information and waited as your most recent activity reloaded before your eyes. Squinting against the brightness, you’re greeted with the familiar sight of your social media. It’s all kept primarily on your laptop in an effort to maintain your phone for work purposes only, so you’re not surprised that you’d forgotten to close out of the accounts.

As the tantalizing aroma of your food begins to seep out from the kitchen, you flick between accounts to catch up on the latest with your family and friends. You were just about to leave a sarcastic comment on one of your friend’s status updates when another chime rings loudly in your quiet apartment. You jump in surprise, carefully cradling your laptop to prevent a journey to the floor. Instinctively, your eyes shoot to your phone with a glare. But it remains on the counter, where you left it, screen dark with its lack of power.

You look instead to the microwave, tongue sticking out of your mouth in anticipation of your food. Only the glowing red numbers tell you there is still a little over a minute left. Your stomach rumbles grumpily.

Something on the screen between your hands catches your eye, and you look down with your brow drawn in confusion. There is nothing on the page you are currently on, but one of the other tabs is blinking in notification. Clicking on it, your Facebook page loads up in a soft blue glow. And there, up near the top of your screen, is a little red circle indicating that you have a new friend request.

You have not met anyone new lately – there hasn’t been any time for that with work. Anyone of interest from your trip that had warranted exchanging information had added you on their preferred social media platform, none of which had been Facebook. You vaguely remembered a friend mentioning her cousin was moving nearby soon and would likely be scouring her own page for people to add from the area, but that was more than a month ago.

Curiosity winning out, you click on the little red bubble. The menu drops down with the account that has submitted the request. There is no profile picture – hello red flag – but there is a message attached to the request. You click on it, and you choke on your own spit.

Hello, Y/N. Bell girl. I hope you made flight.

You almost have no idea what this message means. Your name could have just been gleaned from your profile, and everything else is random enough to be brushed off as spam. You move the mouse to hover over the delete button. But you hesitate.

Because just across from you, on one of the shelves of your bookcase, sits a little ceramic bell whose chime you have not been able to forget since it literally rained down on you. You’d thought they’d all been cleaned up, but one had managed to fall into the hood of your coat and you unwittingly carried it onto your plane with you. It wasn’t until you were an entire ocean away that you discovered the mistake, at which point it was too late to remedy. You’d stewed in guilt for a day or two, even contemplated tossing the thing out so it wouldn’t remind you of the only theft you’d ever committed.

Then you rang it, and those soft doe eyes were called into your memory. How they glistened as he’d stared at you, the way they crinkled when you’d offered him your name. You hadn’t gotten his, but you hadn’t needed it, either. Because you knew those eyes.

Your own snap back to your laptop and zero in on the requester’s profile name. A rather undignified snort leaves you.

John Cook.

Was he serious? Of course not, because there was no way this was even him. It was some sort of coincidence. At worst, a terrible joke. It had to be.

There was absolutely, positively, no way Jeon Jungkook was adding you on Facebook.

Right?

There it is! I know Jungkook isn’t exactly present in this one, but I wanted to show the reader’s POV more this time. Please let me know what you think. And, if you have any suggestions for the next drabble, feel free to share! I’m pretty positive I’m going to continue this as inspiration hits, but I’m always open to suggestions. Especially when work is draining most of my creativity. Thanks for reading! :)

©reneejuliet 2020. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

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pinencurls · 4 years ago

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Feels Like Home

Hiii this is another one shot I had in my drafts for awhile, hope u enjoy!!

A trip to visit Bestfriend!Harry pulls up feelings from the past.

To find places that feel like home when you're so far away from your own is always a blessing. I often find myself cooped up in train carriages for long empty hours travelling up and down the country - sometimes to nearby neighbouring countries too, with only a book and the view for company. Work in the photography and journalism industry can take you pretty much anywhere, photoshoots and research pieces usually mean I have to travel frequently. I've probably spent more weekends in hotels the past few years than I have in my small London flat, its lavender walls presenting more as a storage place these days and occasional safe haven for when I return.

Most of it is manageable - and exciting, really really exciting. A few times a year a piece will land me in the States and away from my bubble of European arts and culture. The company I work for has a New York branch outside of the London one, so in the times that I find myself flying miles away from home, I'm lucky enough to be welcomed by one of my oldest friends' open arms - and his guest room.

Harry works a lot too, splitting time between London and New York, but on this trip - as always, he's sworn an evening out of his day to pick me up from the airport. I don't get to see much of him anymore, we grew up spending every summer in each other's houses, our parents' old friends from university, but he moved away three years before me and never came back, at least not in the same way that allowed youthful abandon to drive us into the woods to build forts and swim in the river, or make us forget how old we were and fall asleep on his mum's old sofa watching questionable rom coms. I'd happily slip back into our shared holiday practises - every time I visit him there's a shadow of nostalgia when he brings two teas and a joint out to the living room, the same smirk clear on his now slightly unshaven face.

I try to focus on that moment, only a few hours away now. We'll spend tonight and tomorrow together before he can't miss any more studio sessions and I have to report to the office and start my week of work - an article on the rise of youth activists in underprivileged areas of the city. It's a heavy topic but something I've been interested in for a while - I love the music and cultural subjects I've written on before but I've wanted to branch out into a more political field for awhile now. Sandy, my editor, assigned me this a few days ago, a smirk on her face when she nonchalantly delivered it to my desk Monday morning.

. ... . .

My arms are folded up against my chest at an unnatural angle - I've spent the last hour like this in an attempt not to elbow the snoring banker to my left who is, undoubtedly, taking up more than his fair share of the three-seat row. I can't see much good coming from waking him to point this fact out so I stay settled in my awkward position. An eight-hour flight in the middle seat was never going to be comfortable anyway.

My morning had been typically rushed, I missed breakfast in favour of catching my flight before it left without me and found myself bustling through the crowds of families, business people and tourists that fill the airport as soon as I leapt out of the taxi. I didn't have to check any luggage in so sped through security straight to the gate being called overhead. I swear I've got to stop booking early flights if I'm never going to wake up in time to get a croissant from Pret en route.

I turn my focus to the phone in my hands and slip my headphones over my ears. There's only an hour left until we land, seeing no point in starting an inflight movie now, I open my "calm times" playlist and close my eyes. Soon I'll be sleeping on an unnecessarily expensive mattress bigger than this whole row.

. ... . .

"Excuse me, M'am?" The chipper voice of a flight attendant wakes me up, slightly muffled under the Adrienne Lenker song that continues to play through my headphones. The seat to my right, previously filled by a woman a few years older than me, is empty. On my other side, the suit-wearing man spreader is starting to stir. "We'll be landing shortly, please secure your seatbelts and pack away any loose items."

I stumble over a quick 'Thanks' as she leans out of our row and moves on to the next, her perfect customer service smile ready again. The missing woman makes her way down the aisle towards us and takes her seat, she seems hurried and agitated. Out the corner of my eye, I watch as she wrings her hands a few times, sighing heavily and leaning back in her seat. A nervous flyer. I lean over and pull my bag up from the small slot under the seat ahead and slide the book I'd taken out hours before, not having read a page of, back on top of my sweater and the wine gums I'd bought as a makeshift breakfast in my final flurry before boarding.

Overhead, the usual pre-landing announcements chime as people clip in their seatbelts and slip superstitious remedies between their lips. Suited man spreader has chosen a particularly eye-watering peppermint gum to finish our flight off with.

Closing my eyes I focus on the quiet music, too distant to take me out of my body as it's interrupted by the chatter of excited travellers and constant beeps around me. I don't hate flying, but I have developed a favoured fondness of trains. I've seen the ins and out of so many towns and mindlessly people watched for hours, always having the option to hop off at the next station and stretch my legs if any part of the journey is particularly unbearable or a city is too enticing to leave unexplored.

I fiddle with the two buttons along the side of my phone for a second, raising the volume a little and willing my thoughts away from the swooping plane as the familiar wary feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I'm a nervous flyer too. But, with a clunk and a slight wobble, we're back on the ground. I keep my eyes shut a little longer, knowing the gridlock of impatient passengers to come is unavoidable. The orange light above me dims and I release the seat belt that had been cutting tightly into my shoulder. The woman beside me is noticeably calmer and we share a giddy - we're strangers but we're smiling at each other - look for a second.

I call Harry when I'm through baggage claim, having packed only a rucksack and a small duffel - both fitting as hand luggage, I head straight through customs where the queues are just starting to build up. I beeline to a near-empty desk on the far right as the dial tone rings against my ear for the third time-

"Hello!" Harry greets down the phone, his voice sounds far away, most likely using the speakers in his car whilst he parks - "M' just parking, love."

"I just got to customs, I'll be ten minutes - meet you outside yeah?"

"I was gonna come in, I'll only be a second." He always pushes to meet me before I make it out the airport, obsessed over the classic reunion scene from all his favourite rom coms. It was well-intended and actually really sweet but it wasn't worth the risk of new rumours being spread across the gossip sites if photos got out of Harry Styles meeting a 'mystery girl' at the airport, as I'd previously been labelled the few times shots of us out dancing in the city or talking over lunch in L.A had gotten out. Harry's protective over his private life and I prefer to keep out of his public one.

"I'm almost through customs...I'll literally be one minute Harry, just wait in the car - wait a sec..." I hold the phone up against my shoulder when I'm beckoned towards the free customs desk, smiling politely and sliding my passport towards the teller. I reply 'work' to her question and thank her when she pushes it back to me, freshly stamped with red ink. "-Okay I'm out, are you by the taxi bit again - you know you're not actually allowed to park there?"

"Actually I'm just...oh god you really are blind aren't you?" He laughs down the line, I look up, confused and only halfway across the long white room towards the exit. Even amongst the crowds, there's an unmistakable figure waving from the benches to the side, phone in hand. "Hey."

I laugh and hang up, slinging my duffel over my shoulder and making my way over to where Harry is now standing, an infamous grin etched across his face. Before I can complain about just how close I am to the car park already, he leans down and engulfs me in a hug.

"Been a while, hmm?" Out of instinct, my arms wrap around him and hold tight. He's right, it's been almost five months since we last saw each other in person. I was away the last few times he came home to London and he's always jetted back to L.A for important meetings by the time I'm on my way back. "Missed you, lovie."

Pulling away to get a better look at him, I rest my hands on his shoulders, his hair's a little longer, and he looks tired but cheery - as usual.

"I missed you too." There's that weird hesitant few second feeling when neither of us breaks eye contact and for a moment it suddenly feels surreal to have each other as real people you can touch and hold.

"Now help me with this bag - the flight fucking murdered my back."

He misses a beat and my duffel hits his leg abruptly, he grunts and grumbles for a second before picking it up and draping his free hand over my shoulder, turning us to face the exit. I forget for a moment that the group of very unsubtle girls on the other side of the room will fuel the newest dating rumour by the morning with photos of Harry pulling my against his side and holding my hand casually - like every few days out of the year we get to spend in each other company, it feels like we're fifteen again and blur into the background, too caught up in our own conversations to notice anybody else.

"Come on - I reckon someone's already pissed that I'm parked in the taxi rank."

... . .

It's late in my jetlagged brain, but not late enough in the city to miss the last bit of rush hour traffic. Harry taps his ringed fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of Peter Gabriels 'Sledgehammer.' I've pulled my knees up to my chest and slouched against the passenger door staring up at the busy lights and cloudy sky. My eyelids dip momentarily, the blurred scenery lulling me out of focus.

"Don't fall asleep on me, I've got a nice dinner planned yet." Harry protests, squeezing my hand in his, eyes on the road as he lifts and moves our now intertwined hands in the air, swaying along to the final chorus playing through his iPhone."C'mon, a little bit of Peter Gabriel should wake you up."

"I hate Peter Gabriel," I mumble and pull my hand from his, poking his cheek when he lets out an exaggerated gasp. I can't help but laugh at his appalled expression, too distracted to object when he pulls my hand back into his and continues his fun as the speakers click and a new song comes on.

Our faces glow yellow against the street lights. My legs ache and my head feels heavy - I tilt it back against the window and watch as Harry sings along to an old Scott Mckenzie song. He's let our hands fall against my seat now, focusing on the busy roads as he turns closer to his apartment. I notice now, for the first time, his subtle disguise; the grey hoodie and dark shades pushed back in his hair. He looks...soft. He laughs when he slips off-key and shoots me a glance, smiling again when he takes in my half-asleep state. He squeezes my hand, his rings are cold and clunky and wake me up a little. I peer out at the road ahead - Harry lives fairly near the airport so we must be getting close, the cafes start to look familiar and I figure we're only a few minutes from home, and sleep.

I wake again at the jolt of the car stopping and the consistent white noise of the engine cutting off when Harry's keys clatter against each other. His door opens and shuts - I think I'm awake?

I must have shifted slightly in my sleep because when the passenger door swings open I stay upright against the seat. I look up to see Harry's hand stretched out towards me.

"C'mon, missing my luxury homemade dinner s'gonna be a lot more comfortable in a real bed" He teases, his smile yet to leave since I first saw him twenty minutes ago sat on that bench - sticking out despite his 'disguise'

I take his hand and tumble slightly haphazardly to stand, looking up briefly to see Harry with both my bags over one shoulder, lifting his free arm to wrap around me. We start towards his building, moving easily through the lobby and into the elevator. I look up again from where my head's resting on his shoulder, surrounded by his hoodie. Yeah, he looks...soft.

When we get inside I head straight to the guest room, nudged forwards by Harry's instructions for me to get some rest before he starts dinner - I've stayed in Harry's apartment enough times to know my way around fairly well, the guest room, where I always stay, is down the hall on the left. The bed is made and there's a fluffy white robe folded on the nightstand. Already head to toe in comfy travel wear, I clamber under the duvet and breathe in the freshly washed sheets - washing detergent with a hint of Harry's vanilla aftershave. My eyes are heavy and my thoughts wander a little. It feels like home.

... . .

When I open my eyes, it's to a darker room. Harry must have come in and closed the curtains while I was asleep, my bags have been leant up against the dresser too. I sit up and look around the room, rubbing my knuckles against my eyelids, still groggy from sleep, but hungry now, the lack of a real breakfast and unsatisfying plane food catching up to me. The alarm on the bedside table reads nine pm, I'd been asleep for almost an hour - I change out of my well-worn flight clothes and into a sweater and soft grey jogging bottoms Harry had left at my London flat last time he stayed over, although it'd been long enough ago they might as well be mine by now.

The kitchen sounds get louder as I make my way out of the guest room and down the hall, yawning into the crook of my elbow amidst pulling a soft yellow scrunchie off my wrist and taming my hair into a lazy, loose ponytail. Harry's occasional grumbles and soft singing fill my ears when I reach the end of the hall and get the full sight of him, in just a t-shirt and jeans now, leaning over a pan of spaghetti trying to twist a strand onto the fork in his hand before dangling in into his mouth with a light hum.

"How's it going, chef?" He turns to see me, eyes wide as he fingers the end of the pasta into his mouth and smirks down at me.

"S'good, was just about to come get you," He turns momentarily to fiddle with what looks like courgette and red pepper frying in a pan behind the spaghetti before looking back at me and motioning for me to bring him the plates he'd left stacked on the counter.

He mixes the courgette, pepper and a fresh-looking tomato sauce into the main pot and stirs it all together before filling my plate up and handing it back to me - all while looking incredibly pleased with himself. He nods over to the table and I set my plate down, taking two wine glasses from beside him and filling them with the wine he's just opened. After double-checking the stove's been turned off safely and our glasses are full, Harry takes the seat in front of me.

"So-" He starts, smiling up at me over the gorgeous dinner set in front of us. "How're you?"

A burst of laughter escapes my lips at the situation, We hadn't been in the same room for months and within the first hour of reuniting I'd fallen asleep, now we were sat down to dinner, ready to discuss our day like old times.

"I'm good, sorry I fell asleep before we could talk," He chuckles before taking a sip of wine, we hear about each other's lives at least once a week - usually phone calls when our jet lag causes our time zones to match up, and always texts throughout the week - this kind of small talk seems silly when I'd spoken to him just this morning before my flight. "How's your mum and Gem?"

"They're well, haven't seen Mum in a little while, every time I call she always seems more interested in you," He replies between bites of spaghetti, "Apparently you're quite the enigma these days."

"Wha-How!" Anne was like a sister to my mum so our families were always close growing up, she often acted just as motherly to me and my sister as she did her own children.

"You don't call anymore." Harry smirks, recalling a frequently used quote from Anne herself.

"That's such I lie - I saw her a few weeks ago when she came down to see Gem and I always call, it's hard you know, I have my own parents to keep track of too."

Harry laughs at this, pleased to have his mothers attention shifted from his own absence for once.

"I'm not sure, apparently she's been gossiping with your mum and you're never home anymore." He must not notice the irony of his words because he's hosting the smuggest expression, staring back at me over his glass.

"Hey - you disappeared first, I'm allowed to have my turn." I fire back, shaking my head jokily.

Harry doesn't seem to catch my light tone though, or he's not keen on my choice of words. He turns rigid opposite me and stares back, agitation brimming in his gaze.

"What's that mean?" He's not bubbly and blushing anymore, sober now with a steady assertive tone as he questions me.

"Come on Harry, m' just joking, relax," He doesn't. "You moved away years before me and never came back, it's not exactly a secret, I didn't mean anything by it."

His fork clatters when it lands on his plate. He puffs out a heavy breath of air before speaking up again, making no effort to hide is disdain this time.

"Fuck off, I came back." I look up to watch him, he hardly curses outside of mild frustration or a lighthearted voice, this is different. "That's not fair and you know it."

"I'm not blaming you Harry I was just making a joke - forget it." The remaining food on my plate is an unsuccessful distraction, nothing's enough to stop Harry when he starts.

"No, you always do this. I didn't disappear, I was working for five years and then I continued to work after that, I came home as much as I could so don't pretend I was all aloof or something." I'm used to holding his gaze through an argument, and this is an argument we've had before - "It was my job to travel for months at a time, you can't blame me for not being around every time we see each other like I just ran off and never called."

"So it's not work for me then?" I shoot back, instantly angry that he finds it so easy to offload all the blame onto me when he's the one who made a meaningless comment into a fight in the first place. "And it fucking felt like that."

Harry's quiet. I finish the last of my wine and pour a second glass.

"I came back."

"Not properly." I put my glass down and massage my fingertips over my temple, this isn't the time to unpack childhood grudges. "I'm only here for a week, can we not fight...please?"

Neither of us speaks for a few moments, my words linger in the air. We never have much longer than a few weeks together before one of us is off again, there's never going to be time to confront that stuff. The transition between only having Harry a few hours away, treating his home like mine on the weekends me and my sister, Ellie, would visit him and Gem and moaning our way through hellish GCSEs together (he was a year ahead so always had a little more to complain about) to him travelling the world and everyone knowing his name was almost nonexistent. It all happened so abruptly, Harry went to London for a few days to film his follow up audition and never came back. I didn't see him until the Christmas of that year, by which time he'd already moved into a place in London and experienced so much that it was hard to act like anything would ever be the same again.

"What did I do wrong, just tell me and I'll fix it, please," Harry begs, earnest as he finally speaks up.

"I don't blame you for anything Harry, I didn't mean it like that..."I sigh, wringing my hands out as nervously as the women beside me hours before on the plane. "Let's just have dinner, yeah? It's really nice Har."

We finish our food with a little more small talk, he asks how Ellie's doing even though he already knows from Gemma's updates that's he engaged now and thinking about moving to London, I ask after a few of his bandmates I met last time I was in L.A. Things are too quiet when we lay down on his sofa to watch the notebook for the 20th time. Neither of us recites the lines we know off by heart and always mock - the air hangs heavy with the lingering anxiety of an argument we're never going to settle, we sit apart stiffly and far too composed for film nights we've shared since we were kids before heading our separate ways to bed.

... . .

Work goes well, the young people I talk to pretty much write the article for me with how much insight they offer up. There are so many parts to the topic that deserve to be covered well that my workdays and evenings at Harry's blur together and soon I've emailing my final draft to Sandy for notes and packing for the airport.

Neither Harry or I have brought the first nights argument up and it looks like it'll be brushed under the rug before I leave tonight. There's been a definite cloud over the last week - I think a more before I speak and Harry's eyes linger on me a little longer when I do.

He stills seems frustrated by our fight, I can't blame him, I am too. He's sat on the sofa with a guitar in his lap, going unplayed as his eyes trail after my last-minute rush around the apartment to gather together all my possessions that had found themselves seeping out into his home over the past week. He watches closely, contemplating whether to speak or just let me go like nothing happened.

"Have you seen my sweater?" I call from the guest room, the wardrobe's empty and my bags are laying on the coffee table in front of Harry - my sweater missing from both.

"The one you brought with you?"

He appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door and peering down at where I'm kneeling before the bed, searching through the very empty and sweaterless dresser, humming a response back at him.

"Yeah, that'd be mine." I snap my head back to look at him, he must be joking.

"Um no, it's mine," He smirks, eyes still sad but fainter now in the looseness of the moment. "I've had it for years, I bought it in Amsterdam in that little thrift store by the cafe with the really good bagels."

"No," He chastises. "I bought it in Amsterdam in that little thrift shop by the cafe with the really good bagels, and you took it home when you left."

He's definitely wrong. Sure I might not remember all of the trip I took to Amsterdam to visit him on tour, but I remember the hours we spent traipsing through thrift store on his day off munching on really good bagels.

"Wrong - please return it now, kindly." I stand and hold out my palm to him.

"No can do," He grins, nudges my hand away from him to fall limply by my side.

"Harry, come on!" I whine, letting my maturity slip slightly as my patience lessens. "I'm already running late, I've gotta finish packing and I can't miss my flight."

"Why not?" He challenges, smiling still but paired with a serious tone now.

"Because, I'm not about to swim back to London."

"No, why can't you stay?" My hand wavers slightly at my side, I'm not sure if he's joking or I can hear sincerity in his voice - it reminds me too much of his solemn begging from Saturday night. "Just stay, a little longer."

He's asked me to before in the past. He isn't afraid to try and steal another day off of me to tag along to an artist friend of his' show the next night or just to get dinner at a restaurant I 'couldn't miss'. On occasion, I've given in to his pestering and rearranged a flight for a few days later. I could, I could. I'd just handed in my work for the week and it was only Friday morning, I won't be needed again until Monday. Flight's would be ridiculously expensive to change this late though, and this 'stay a little longer' felt less for the sake of good food and his favourite spin class and more of a, we need to talk - 'stay a little longer.'

"I can't," I reply simply, closing off the conversation by brushing past him into the hall towards his own room in search of my stolen sweater.

"I'll pay for your flight back." Harrys voice trails after me. "You've worked hard all week, you can afford to take the weekend off."

"I cant." I brush off again, avoiding his gaze as I scan over the room in front of me, heading to his tall chest of draws first and pulling open the one I know is filled with jumpers.

"I want to talk," Harry says softly. He lifts one arm from where he has them crossed over his chest and motions to the chair in the far corner, I investigate and sure enough, my sweater is tucked under a small pile of t-shirts. "Love, you can't ignore me."

"M' not, we're talking aren't we?" I'm just hovering in the middle of the room now, sweater in hand but Harry's tall figure blocks my way out adamantly.

"You know what I mean,"

"Harry, I can't-"

"I'm not letting you leave like this again." He takes a few steps across the room as he talks, "You said we couldn't fight cos you're only here a week, so stay a little longer."

"I don't want to fight." I shake my head, pulling my hand away when he reaches out for it.

"Then we'll just talk."

He's got that determined, soulful look about him. He reaches for my hand again and I let him, he brushes his fingertips over my knuckles lightly. His other hand comes up to my face and guides my head to look at him, still peering down at me expectantly.

Harry and I have always been open with one another. There was never enough time to tiptoe around what was bothering us when he was only home for a few weeks before work or another tour called again. Our parents always joke that we were twins separated at birth, the way we used to huddle in the garden as little kids and whisper to each other. He's my best friend, no matter how far apart we are he never hesitates to talk through his troubles with me, sure there are times we drift with our schedules, but there's too much pulling us back together for it to last long.

"I can't," It's a whisper, but he's close enough to hear it. I pull my hand from his and turn my head to the side. Inhaling, it's far too shakey to hide my nerves and before I can control it there are tears stinging my eyes.

"Love-" Harry coos, fighting my own hand to clear the tears from my cheeks.

"-I can't, Harry I," I say again, the lump in my throat making my words sound choked. He's looking down at me with that sad soft expression again and I can't piece together how we got here. "I can't."

He pulls me into his chest. His arms rest around my shoulders and he presses his face into my neck. He mumbling something but I can't make it out anymore, everything's warm and teary and slightly distorted by heavy breaths.

"We've gotta talk....we've gotta talk," He gets louder, "Love?"

I pull back to see his face. There's a red blush over his nose and cheeks and his eyelashes shine where they're wet. I push back, creating some space between us and clearing my throat.

"I didn't mean anything, we don't have to-I shouldn't have said what I did, I'm not angry, and I have no right to be so can we just, can we please just forget it?"

He shakes his head lightly, rubbing his hands against the back of his neck and standing straighter, feeling taller and intimidating.

"It's more than that, you know," He's swallowed the wobble in his voice, continuing to talk clearly now. "It's not about that, we've needed to talk for awhile - I don't want to leave it for weeks and weeks again, I can't keep pretending like nothing's going on."

"I've got a flight to catch Harry I really can't do this." I insist, walking around him and through the clear doorway, although his footsteps chase closely behind.

"Miss the flight!" Harry shouts as we make it to the living room and I start packing away the last few things on the coffee table. "I'll get you a ticket for Sunday night, just stay."

My throat burns when I push down another round of tears and furiously shove books down the side of my bag. Harry hovers to my side, fiddling with his rings and bouncing his knee back and forth.

"I love you."

I have a flight to catch. I have a flight to catch.

"Don't say it like that- I love you, of course, I love you too" I sigh, slowing down and turning to face him. "...my car's going to be here in fifteen minutes."

"No, I love you."

I have a flight to catch. I have a flight to catch.

"I have a flight to catch."

... . .

I feel shittier on the plane. I've got the window seat this time though so at least I can mope in peace. Not much more had been said after that, my car came, I thanked Harry for having me and our hug lasted longer than usual, again.

Maybe I should have stayed. Maybe I should have talked about the feelings that he'd noticed too before I left, or better yet, the first night I arrived. I'd spent hours stuck in an unproductive thought spiral on the subject over the years, we've had moments in the past, Christmas eves when we're the last ones up and the space between us dwindles down the further we get in our confessions or catching each other in a particularly domestic act in one our homes when it feels like it all just comes naturally and why isn't it like this with any of the guys I've dated?

It doesn't go unnoticed by us that we acted like a couple more often than we did close friends. Gemma and Ellie have confronted me, and most likely Harry too, together and separately for answers on several occasions. I always say the same thing - "We're just friends, we've always been close."

This time's different though. Harry's never brought the subject up outside of the jokes comparing us to his friends in relationships, he's always been in relationships and there's no chance of me broaching the issue of any potential romantic feelings I may or may not have for him while he's seeing somebody, even when he wasn't, it's not worth the risk of it all blowing up in my face and having to spend infinite Christmases in awkward humiliation.

I'd played with the idea of us as a couple, allowed myself to daydream about what it could be like for a few moments before reminding myself how low the possibility of Harry ever feeling the same is. Even if he did, the long-distance friendship we have now would never survive as a relationship - you can't go months without the person you're trying to build a life with.

But, maybe I should have stayed.

Maybe, when he told me he loved me, I should have been braver. In the one moment, it all finally felt clear and possible, and like I wasn't completely delusional and hopeless, I should have told him I love him too.

Either way, I have eight long, back aching hours ahead of me to decide.

#harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles one shot #feels like home #dani's writing #oop #i'm so tired

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adphotosudio-123 · 1 year ago

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#digital painting #photography #photoshoot #poster #print #passport photos near me #passport photography near me #photo shop near me #photo studio near me #photo studio near me for passport #photo studio in ilford #photo studio ilford #photo shop in ilford #photo shoot #photo printing in ilford #photo printing

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howardbeachstudios-us · 2 years ago

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Get the Perfect Passport Photo with These Simple Tricks

All of us have to get our passport photos clicked at some point in our lives. The biggest problem that most of us face is that these never turn out to be cool. Most of us are never happy with our passport-sized photos as we feel that we are not looking perfect.

So, here are some tricks to get the perfect passport photographs:

Avoid wearing glasses, hats, or scarves in your photo. These items can be distracting and make it difficult to see your face clearly.

Choose a high-necked shirt or dress with a white background. This will help the photo look clean and professional. Avoid wearing black or white clothing, as these colors can blend in with the background.

Consider wearing a bit of makeup to help you look your best in the photo. Just be sure not to overdo it – you want to look natural, not overly made up.

Choose a hairstyle that keeps your hair out of your eyes. If you have long hair, consider pulling it back or pinning it up. Avoid wearing headbands or bows in your photo.

Practice good posture and strike a natural pose for your photo. Tilting your head or positioning your face a certain way can make a big difference in how you look in the photo.

Smile naturally for your photo. Your smile should be genuine and should reach your eyes.

Confidence is key! Believe in yourself and you’ll look great in your passport photo.

One of the most important things if you want to get the best photograph is to choose the best passport photo studio near me. The lighting in the photo studio, the print quality, and the way the picture is clicked are going to have an impact on how your photo looks.

These simple tips can surely help you get the right passport picture. Since the photo studio plays a crucial role make sure that you choose Howard Beach Studio. We are one of the leading photo studios and are known for our quality photography services.

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the-original-b · 4 years ago

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Archangel: Rest

Format: Prose / fiction, one-shot

Word Count: c. 3,700

Summary: After the apparent end of her relationship with Krueger, Seza recalls its beginning.

Warning(s): brief violence, brief sexual content

Lower Manhattan, Thursday night

Seza entered her studio apartment safe house that night after the ordeal in Cambria Heights a few hours ago. She headed straight for the desk to retrieve the records contained in the envelope that led her and her now-deceased associates to the home in east Queens, and ran them through a paper shredder. Then she shut the device down and poured the contents of its receptacle into a plastic trash bag which she tied shut to bring to her front door later.

Seza moved to the corner kitchen and knelt down to free a section of the flooring and store her wakizashi underneath in the hidden compartment, where she kept her American, Turkish, French, and Brazilian passports under false names. She retrieved the documents, covered the sword back up, and went to her closet for a change of clothes.

Now donning a comfortable sweater, pair of jeans, and sneakers under a fur-trimmed duffel coat, she returned to the apartment door with a small travel bag and her passports. She paused on her way out to examine a framed photo of her and Krueger hanging by the doorway—in it they shared an embrace and a kiss by the water and setting sun.

“I am sorry for involving your family in my work,” she said as if he were there to hear her. “But I assure you they were never in any danger, nor will they ever be. When I said you were mine forever, I meant it. I will always protect you and the ones you love, Milo. I hope you understand that.”

Then Seza picked up the trash bag on the floor next to her and left the safe house.

The Amalfi Coast, circa 2009

Krueger inserted the key into the lock of the door, then turned the knob to open it and take the apartment space in. It offered the bare essentials—the kitchen area opened up to a balcony overlooking the square, and the bedroom on the other side of the floor featured a window overlooking the docks and sapphire waters. The broom-closet-sized washroom offered no such luxuries.

He didn’t mind the lack of amenities—after all he’d only be renting the space for a few days, at least until his target was dealt with. He set his bag on the floor in the living area near a futon while he familiarized himself with the apartment, then when he was satisfied, returned to the living space.

He found Seza leaning against the doorway scanning the room. “I thought it would be smaller,” she noted. She laid her duffel beside his and looked around the space. “More than enough room for two.”

“You can take the bedroom,” Krueger said.

“No, you still need to rest,” she advised. “You take it.”

“Marrakesh was a month ago,” he protested. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe so, but you have to give yourself more time. Six more weeks minimum.”

“I can’t sit out for six weeks, Seza, you know that.”

“I do.” She stepped up to him and tapped the healing wounds under the left side of his chest. “And while this may be whole again, what’s beneath it isn’t.”

“If you’re so convinced I have to heal, then why did you insist I join you on this assignment?”

“Because Amur Company still needs its leader.” Seza took Krueger’s duffel off the floor and started toward the bedroom with it. “And because I knew you would get bored in Queens without your wife and child to keep your attention,” she teased.

It didn’t hurt as much a year and a half later, but he still felt the phantom pain of their absence in his life. “Be that as it may, I won’t sit back while you and the others work.”

“Then you can work while you sit.” She paused to admire the view from the bedroom window before returning to him. “I’m going to the café in the square. Do you want to join me?”

“No, you go ahead,” Krueger said. “You have a way with people that I may never match.”

“Not if you don’t come out and practice…” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she went for the door and left him in the apartment to settle in.

Krueger fired up his laptop that evening with Seza seated beside him in the living space of the apartment. He connected to the other four members of Amur Company via Skype.

“Seza and Archangel,” he checked in.

“Brock,” he introduced himself.

“Alicia.”

“Jackson.”

“Oi, Wyatt here,” he said. “How’re the ribs, boss?”

“Healing,” Krueger replied. “It’ll take more than that to put me down.”

“You might not want to be so loud,” Brock jested. “The next one’ll stab you four times instead of three.”

“Brock..!” Alicia chided.

“We were all thinking it, Alicia.”

“I can’t be the only one who thinks it’s his pride that needs to heal.”

“We can address my healing pride later, Wyatt,” Krueger interposed. “We still have work to do.”

“Intelligence I gathered in the field this afternoon confirmed Ugo and Diana Pergola are here,” Seza said. “If our client is to be believed, they’ll meet with the heads of four other enterprises in thirty-six hours to broker peace and cooperation between them. They’re due to deliver some kind of shipment to the group as a show of good faith.”

“Our client saw this as an opportunity they couldn’t pass up,” Krueger continued. “Without the heads, their respective organizations will crumble and deteriorate, crippling them.”

“What are they into that’s so bad, exactly?” Jackson inquired.

“Human trafficking, gun running, drug trading… probably other things the client doesn’t know about.”

“Not that it matters at the end of the day,” Wyatt commented, “but I guess if it helps you sleep a little better…”

“So what’s the play?” Alicia asked. “We can’t turn a couples destination like the Amalfi Coast into some kind of war zone.”

“I agree,” Seza said. “Which is why we’re going to take them all on the Pergolas’ yacht.”

“So we’ll need to prepare accordingly,” Krueger said. “Jackson, I want you on surveillance—tap into the Pergolas’ phones and forward us any relevant intel. Alicia, you’re on logistics with Wyatt. I want to know what that shipment is, where it’s coming from, and how it’s getting into town. Brock, you’re on equipment procurement. Seza and I will maintain field reconnaissance and keep you all updated on local developments.”

“Copy.”

“Understood.”

“Solid copy.”

“Right on.”

“We reconvene tomorrow,” Krueger said. “Remember, we can’t risk giving ourselves away to them, so the six of us can’t be seen together until after it’s done. Dismissed.” He shut the laptop and stood up from the futon, leaving Seza behind.

She shuddered a little bit as his warmth left her side, and after watching him move to the balcony to overlook the square, she got up to join him.

He felt her settle beside him, her elbow touching his. “Despite everything, I do find something magical about this place,” he admitted.

“Of course you do,” Seza replied. “I chose it for you. It was better for you to get the rest you needed in a place like this.”

Krueger shot her a look. “Still looking out for me?”

“Somebody has to,” she said with a smirk. “We both know you’re too busy looking after everyone else to take care of yourself.” She gestured the healing knife wounds in his side. “You may have died if I hadn’t been there.”

“I rather doubt that,” Krueger said to her. “Engage in combat fully determined to die and you will live; wish to survive battle and you will surely meet death.”

“So now you’re a philosopher too?”

“It’s an old samurai saying,” he said, looking away from her and back at the people sharing their meals seated at outdoor tables below. “It’s the one thing I’ve held onto since leaving Kommando Spezialkräfte—the only constant in life for people like you and I. The ones we love will come and go, and the work is only there for as long as we’re able to do it. But that truth, is eternal.”

In all of the four years she knew him as Archangel, he was never so open with her. She saw that, despite his history, his deeds, and resolute acceptance of his inevitable death, he was still just a man with his own fears, doubts, and insecurities. He tried his best to keep them from her, but she could see them now clearer than ever.

That internal struggle—that constant inner fight between opposing schools of thought—was something she knew all too well. As much as she admired him, as much as she loved him, she hated to see him go through any of it. “That’s too bleak a way for somebody like you to live, Archangel,” she finally said. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Somebody like me?” He arched his brow and turned to face her again.

Seza briefly averted his gaze before looking him in the eyes again. “Somebody kind.” She took a step away from him on the balcony, brushing his exposed forearm with her fingertips before going back into the space. “Will you join me in town this time?”

Krueger looked back at her. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he conceded.

They slept in separate rooms that night, as previously discussed, and shared breakfast the following morning in the apartment’s kitchen. Krueger made an effort to stop his eyes from lingering on Seza’s exposed skin for too long—between the tank top she put on over the cotton shorts she slept in the night before, she didn’t make it easy for him.

They conferred with the other four members of Amur Company later that morning, and exchanged their findings with each other before finalizing their plan to deal with the Pergolas in twenty-four hours. Alicia and Wyatt traced a few crates of contraband to a yacht which Jackson confirmed belonged to the Pergolas, and Brock was able to procure a pair of binoculars, GPS tracker, a ka-bar knife, a Glock-17 with suppressor, and twenty pounds of C4, as well as a rebreather and dive equipment.

Krueger secured the explosives, handgun, tracker, and knife that afternoon; Seza picked up the dive equipment and binoculars later that evening, and met with Krueger at the docks.

He leaned on the banister dressed in dark pants and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He squinted against the light of the setting sun as he looked at one vessel in particular. “That’s our target there,” he said. “Fortuna Oltraggiosa.”

Seza laughed to herself at the irony in the yacht’s name. Like him she wore a white shirt and dark pants, but threw on a bright yellow cardigan to hide the stripes tattooed on her arm and shoulder.

“Something funny?”

“Outrageous Fortune,” she explained. “Considering what’s about to happen to them…”

Krueger chuckled as well. “I shouldn’t be surprised you speak Italian as well.”

“I get by,” she said, feigning modesty. She nestled herself a little closer to Krueger; if he minded her proximity to him, he didn’t show it. “Tomorrow will be my first time setting foot on a yacht,” she noted. “It’s too bad I won’t be able to enjoy it.”

“There isn’t much to enjoy,” Krueger commented. “Unless you surround yourself with others who buy into the pretentiousness.”

“Not your crowd?”

“Not even remotely, no.”

“Was it your wife’s?”

Krueger shot her a look. “Why does that matter?”

“I’m just trying to make sense of it,” she said. “When you and I first met I gathered she and you were happily married. She understood you.”

Krueger looked away from her. “I thought she did,” he confirmed. “But it turns out her tolerance for my dancing with death took more of a toll on our marriage than I believed at first. I suppose she was tired of worrying she’d have to explain to our daughter why her father wouldn’t come home anymore.”

Seza got closer to him, again he didn’t protest. “That seems to be exactly what ended up happening anyway,” she noted. “Do you still love her?”

“Very much,” he said. “And I love my daughter as well.” He laced his fingers together. “That’s why I let them go. To protect them.”

Seza looked away from Krueger for a little. “You can love somebody,” she began, “but you can still make new memories too.”

Krueger shut his eyes and slowly nodded, agreeing with her. “Sure,” he said. “But who’s to say that person I let in stays? Who’s to say those new memories last?” He felt that was a good enough reason to not explore the feelings he’d developed for her, despite her invitation. “Nothing lasts forever.”

“Not if you don’t make it last forever,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

Their attention was stolen by an older couple. The husband tapped Seza’s shoulder and informed her how much his wife was happy to see the two of them together sharing this moment by the water, the way they used to when they were young.

Seza thanked them both in Italian, smiling warmly. As they turned to leave, she had an idea. She trotted to catch up to them and get their attention again, and Krueger watched her converse naturally with the older married couple. They shared warm smiles and laughter, and eventually Seza handed them a digital camera from her cardigan pocket before striding back up to Krueger.

“What was that about?” he asked her.

“We remind them of when they were younger,” she explained. “He told me they used to spend their evenings by the water like this when they were dating.” She smirked wryly at him and put her wrists up around the base of his neck. “I… also told them we were engaged, and asked them to take some photos for us.”

“And why would you tell them that?” Krueger inquired, resting his hands on her hips.

“It’s part of hiding in plain sight, Milo.” She turned toward the older couple to smile at them with Krueger as the couple took their photo. “Not that you seem to mind,” she noted.

“Maintaining the illusion,” he asserted as he wrapped his arms around her and held her closer.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” she jested. Then she planted a kiss square on his mouth which she held long enough for their photographer to capture on film several times. She turned back to the older couple to address them, thanking them for taking their picture before facing Krueger again, still in his arms. “If I didn’t know better I would guess you enjoyed that.”

Krueger didn’t deny it—the way she fit in his arms, her firmness and softness pressing against him—was perfect, despite his initial shock at her kissing him. They seemed made for each other.

Seza brought their mouths together again for a deeper kiss that pulled them closer together. Her one hand came away from around his neck to his chest where it rested, as his hand rode up her back under her cardigan.

Krueger let his forehead touch hers as he exhaled and gathered his senses again before opening his eyes to look her in hers. “That was a mistake,” he finally admitted.

“I don’t think you believe that,” she said.

“I don’t want to believe it,” he conceded, “but it was.” He gently pushed her away, distancing himself from her magnetic pull on him. “We can’t do this.”

“Milo—”

“Seza,” he said, both his hands on her shoulders. “Please… I don’t want to risk losing you too.” Wistfully we walked past her, letting his hands fall away as he made his way back to the apartment.

Krueger laid awake that night in the moonlit bedroom playing the evening over and over in his head to rationalize his feelings for Seza. The more he tried to find reasons to convince himself how bad an idea it was to get closer to her, all he could come up with was an unfounded fear that he would somehow lose her. Weighed against everything he felt for her it seemed enough at first, but he was beginning to question that decision.

His door creaked open, and he reached under his pillow for the Glock 17. He pointed it at the door, but lowered it when he saw Seza standing there in his doorway, dressed in her camisole top and boyshorts with a longing look in her eyes.

Krueger couldn’t ignore her slender athletic frame this time; his eyes moved up and down all five feet and seven inches of her, pausing at the form she took under the thin fabric with which she covered so little of herself.

Seza came around to Krueger’s bed and slipped under the covers beside him. Her warmth radiated through the cotton garments, and her scent and silkiness of her bare skin next to Krueger’s demolished what was left of his constitution to not let her in closer than he had. Her hand rose up to his cheek as he looked over to her, and she placed a tender kiss upon his lips which deepened as their embrace tightened.

Soon, she was on top of him with nothing left between them; just her youth, honesty, and wetness. She assisted him inside her, and began rocking her hips in concert with his. The walls Krueger put up around himself fell away completely as he became lost in her, reveling in their mutual lust and love.

They repeated their actions a second and third time that night, each time more slowly and deliberately than the last. She lay in his arms after they finished.

“Whatever happens next,” Seza whispered to him, “whatever changes in our lives after tonight, I promise you will never lose me. I am yours, and you are mine. Forever.”

Krueger held her closer to himself. “Forever,” he echoed.

~~~~

Seza entered the water with the rebreather early the next morning to fit the Pergolas’ yacht with the GPS transmitter, then waited submerged while Ugo and Diana stepped on to start the boat and head out into open waters to meet with their prospective business partners. She remained fixed to the hull of the vessel as it moved out to sea, and when it finally came to a stop, she waited a few minutes more before unhooking herself from the hull and swimming to the back of the boat.

There, she disengaged the rebreather and unsheathed the ka-bar from her calf as she crept around the yacht, ready to put it to use if needed. From behind a corner she spotted Ugo and Diana on the deck entertaining their four guests as they talked business.

She came to realize that, aside from her, the only other six people on the boat were right in front of her. She put the knife away and retreated deeper into the yacht with a canvass satchel in tow. When she made it to a lounge area at what she believed was the center of the boat, she knelt down behind the bar and took four five-pound blocks of C4 out from the bag to prime them for detonation.

When they were ready she stood back up to leave, but paused when her eye caught an unopened bottle of 23-year Ron Zacapa. She picked the bottle up off the shelf to study it, looked up in the direction where the Pergolas would be, then back to the bottle. She placed it in her satchel along with a pack of six crystal tumblers in a padded gift box, and returned to the back of the boat.

When she made it outside, she retrieved a mirror from one of the pouches in her dive suit and moved it to shine a glare in the direction she knew he would be to signal him.

Krueger, having tracked the yacht to open water with the help of the transmitter, watched her through the binoculars and raised a mirror of his own to signal Seza back. He brought the speedboat to life and hit the throttle to move toward her.

Seza returned to the water to meet him halfway, and when she made it to Krueger in the speedboat, he triggered the detonator.

They saw the smoke cloud before they heard—and felt—the explosion from their distance.

“I think they’re dead,” Seza commented.

“Let’s make sure,” Krueger said.

He pushed the throttle on the boat forward and brought it to the wreckage of the yacht, he slowed the boat down as he took the Glock from Seza, keeping his other hand on the throttle as he scanned the floating debris for the bodies.

Krueger put a round into each of the five bodies floating face-down on the surface, and two rounds into one last one. When he was satisfied he turned the boat around and headed back to the mainland.

“It’s Archangel,” he radioed his team waiting for them ashore. “Inform the client that Ugo and Diana Pergola are dead, along with the four others.”

“Solid copy,” Wyatt replied. “That mean it’s on to the next one? ‘Cause I reckon there’s a lot left to do and see in this place.”

Seza got Krueger’s attention to show him the rum bottle and six glasses she lifted from the yacht. “It looked expensive,” she explained. “Seemed a shame to waste it.”

Krueger smirked, raising he radio to his mouth again. “No, Wyatt,” he said. “Let’s take the rest of the week off. I think we’ve earned it.” He turned back to Seza. “That’s quite a catch,” he said, noting the rum bottle.

“I’ve never heard of it,” she said.

“It may just be the best rum I’ve ever had.”

“Is that so?” Seza uncorked the bottle and took two of the glasses from the box. “Well, we don’t have to hurry back to the others,” she noted, pouring a finger’s depth into each of the glasses. “Do we?”

Krueger looked over his shoulder at Seza, and brought the speedboat to a stop. “No,” he said, taking the glass she offered him. “I suppose we don’t.” He wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her in to kiss her.

(Masterlist)

#fiction #original work #original content #original fiction #prose #creative writing #drama #romance #crime story

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adamthepastryguy · 5 years ago

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Growing up i had never heard of Harry Potter or the books or seen anything about it, until my teen years. My friend asked me to go with his nephew to see the film adaption when it first came out we saw thew 2nd one also. But afterwards cannot say i was a fan or planned to see the following ones and then i forgot about it for a few years.

Fast forward to a few years back Primark Launched a Harry Potter collection of items seeing them brought it back to my attention and i got a few items. I then finished watching all the films and had become interested vaguely. We were then going too Florida 2018 for my 30th and visiting Wizarding world of Harry Potter and all of a sudden i was super excited and kitted myself out in wizards glasses and a Gryffindor scarf and Backpack. I got myself a Chocolate frog and tried a Butterbeer.

After the holiday when we came back i uploaded the photos and then thought about going to the Harry Potter studio tour London. Since we had seen Universal why not see the one here. The price did put me off even more so for 4 of us would be nearly £200

I decided to book it for August 15th 2019 this was back in April time on my week holiday from work and then do a Harry Potter Afternoon Tea at the end of the week at home.

So it seemed ages till we were to go, until it creeped up and was almost time and i was so excited to go this time in my Hogwarts Jumper and i kitted the Family out with apparel also. We took a packed lunch in a Hogwarts Lunch bag of course! and some wands for photos.

We allowed some extra time for traveling to Leavesden Watford where it is at and got there early. So we mooched around the foyer and checked out the shop and cafes and the interactive huge panels on the wall before the tour began. And the HUGE DRAGON!

Of course i spent some money in the shop on Wizarding world sweets for my Tea.

And browsed the Chocolate Frog Cafe and The food Hall where you can go ice cream, Hot Chocolates and treats and some quick service meals.

Before you go into the tour make sure to grab a Passport from the info desk as you can get this stamped throughout the tour with different stamps and also search for hidden Golden Snitches. When it`s time for you tour for us it was 1.30pm join the line and you head into the tour with movie posters the Cupboard under the stairs and wait in line for 2 Cinematic experiences. Once this is over the Cinema screen magically lifts to reveal the cast member next to the Great Hall door and invites you all into the Hall.

This is the oldest set over 10 years old and huge

After you enter the cast member talks some more then you go your own way into the main tour. Approx about 3 hours or so is the estimated time to spend and was about the time we spent there. So much to see and watch via videos on screens and also listening to cast members talk about props and scenes. You can walk at your own pace and look around take photos and take it all in. Don`t forget to look out for the stamp machine and get your passport stamped on the right page.

The tour is divided into sections The HALL, FORBIDDEN FOREST, PLATFORM 9 3/4, GRINGOTTS, HOGWARTS

You are now halfway through the tour and get the option to have a break and snack at the Backlot Cafe and enjoy a Butterbeer/Icecream and some quick snacks.

We took A lunch bag and some Sandwiches but of course have to get a Butter Beer Ice cream and in a souvenir cup also! The Ice cream was massive seemed to never end.

My partner had never had a Butterbeer so i got him one to try. Me and my dad had some in the Leaky Cauldron in Universal and mum didn’t care for it so we just had the Ice Cream this time. Almost £30 for 4 Ice creams and the Butterbeer yikes! you do get the cups though or can have it in a Cone for about £5 i think.

Outside the Backlot Cafe is the Knight Bus and Privet Drive and the Bridge section. As well as the Blue Ford Anglia & Hagrids Motorbike you can sit in and have a photo taken.

You can walk through the Privet House to see the stairs and front room filled with Acceptance letters and walk across the section of the Bridge. Then continue the tour to see the Creature special effects Gringotts Bank and the vaults and lastly the HUGE HOGWARTS MODEL

Hogwarts is the last room of the tour filled with the Huge model of Hogwarts and you walk down the slope around it for many photo opportunities and you exit through the Wand room which leads back to the Huge gift shop.

I took over 70 photos, my dad made a video and my partner also took many photos. It was a great day to see behind the scenes. I will say although their was a lot of people i was able to take photos quite easily with a short wait and not long to queue up for the restaurants. The biggest lines were in the shop! It is not the cheapest of days out for a family, plus travel food and souvenirs but is an experience i think is worth for the day.

I spent nearly £80 with the Photo, Sweets and Butterbeer Ice creams which was on top of the Tour Tickets cost.

Fizzing whizzBees ) Chocolate Bees with popping Candy) Exploding BonBons ( White Chocolate Orange & Pineapple ) and Peppermint Toads Dark Chocolate

Gringotts Chocolate Coins in bag

Chocolate Frog from Universal Studios Orlando ( American Chocolate )

Many photo opportunities chances to buy photo experiences, gifts and themed foods .

I would say i have no intention to revisit the tour as i have seen it all, but if they add anything new worth seeing may change my mind.

in the Area after the Great Hall near the Quidditch section you can take a photo/video on a Green screen Broom and we had this wanted Wizard photo done. They give you Robes to wear also. 3 Gryffindors and a Slytherin. This poster size is £20 a smaller one is £10 or 2 small for £20. You also get a digital code for a digital copy of the photo when you buy a photo.

HARRY POTTER STUDIO TOUR LONDON 1ST TIME REVIEW Growing up i had never heard of Harry Potter or the books or seen anything about it, until my teen years.

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itshysterie · 6 years ago

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[2018] Going to Music Shows for EXO

Please do not repost any of this, you can share just by linking the post!

Because many people have asked (and accused me of being ‘selfish’ for not sharing when most of this is easy to figure out via other tutorials), I’m going to make a general “guide” on how to go to music shows for EXO!

As a disclaimer, I can’t give you just one set of instructions, because the requirements, methods, etc. used by SM’s fanstaff can differ even within the same promotion period! So this could be confusing, and it’s still important to be checking the official notices to see what you need to do / what you should bring.

The Notice

Notices are posted on the ‘Notice’ board on the official website, because EXO (and SM groups in general) do not have official fancafes.

The notice will say what time the prerecording is (listing two times if there is more than one - like during comeback week, or if there is a postrecording for the next week), what time fanstaff will give out entry numbers, how you can attend/apply, and what you need to get in.

There is no set time for the notice being posted. During promos it is good to check frequently if you plan on going, or when possible to even be waiting near the venues for music shows the night before, just in case it’s first-come-first-serve (선착순) entry. I’ll explain the different ways of applying below.

Here’s an example of the notice from last week’s comeback for TEMPO at Music Bank.

The Methods

For EXO, it can either be 선착순 (first-come-first-serve) or applications (신청 - 참여 신청 [application to participate], 사전 신청 [prior application]) held through e-mail or Naver Forms.

When it is announced as 선착순 (first-come-first-serve), the line/list cannot begin before the notice is posted. Often fans will wait around the venue where people line up, and the moment the notice is posted, someone will yell out “NUMBER ONE!” (일번!), people crash in towards them, and once a line of some sort is formed the people at the front of the line by that person will start giving out numbers.

When there is a lot of fans waiting around before the notice is posted, this can be chaotic. (Tends to happen when the notice is posted late, so people know it will be 선착순 instead of applications). Sometimes there are no people around yet, and the first person there doesn’t want to be in charge of managing the list, so people will wait in a line until someone who wants to manage the list comes.

The person will generally ask for your name and the last 4 digits of your phone number. This is so when they do name-checks that it is you in line, not someone else. The person making the list will then stay there all night, managing the list/writing down new names, and then holding periodic name checks overnight.

For EXO they tend to do name checks once every 3 or 4 hours, and the final check is around 2 hours before fanstaff come to give out numbers. This can vary, so make sure you listen closely or ask what time the next check is each time. If you are late for a check, even by one minute, you are cut from the list.

After the last unofficial name check, generally fans will stay IN LINE or at least not wander far for the next 2 hours until fanstaff show up. Sometimes they’re early (and sometimes late), and it’s better safe than sorry after staying awake all night.

When it is 신청 (applications), SM often will use e-mail (jokingly called the 멜림 “mail-lympics”) or Naver forms (폼림 “form-lympics”). On both e-mail and the form, the SM fanstaff will compile a list of the number of applicants whose e-mails/forms are submitted first at the assigned time.

The post will say what time applications will happen, and you need to send it exactly at the application time. Even if you do, it’s not uncommon to not get on the list.

For e-mail, they post the e-mail you need to send to, and the format of the e-mail subject line. You have to follow the format exactly or they will not accept your application no matter how quickly you send it. The format occasionally changes (whether they want your full birth year/just the last two numbers, whether they want hyphens in the phone number or not, which order the information is sent in, whether there’s a final backslash, etc.) so it’s important to check the format each time the notice comes up.

An example of the format is :

[1107쇼챔]FULLNAME/YYYYMMDD/###-####-####/

Being the date and name of the show in the brackets [ ], followed by you FULL NAME as it appears on you ID (and EXO-L card), your birthdate, and your phone number. The post will have a section listed as [참여 신청 방법] or [신청 방법], and for e-mails it will have the 양식 (format) listed. ALWAYS check closely! I suggest copy-pasting the format and entering your information.

The body of the e-mail always is kept empty. They will reject your application for even having something written in the e-mail.

SM will then post the list of applicants who were first in their inbox, often late at night, and either it will be 선착순 (first-come-first-serve) among the applicants, or they will assign numbers for entry. If it’s 선착순, follow the instructions above for 선착순. If not, make sure you’re still earlier than the time listed for fanstaff arriving! If you’re late, you will be cut.

For Naver Forms they ask for similar information. Make sure you include your full name as it is on your ID and your EXO-L card, a Korean phone number, and your birthdate. Make sure you do not hit ‘SUBMIT’ (제출 / 확인, depending on the form) until the actual application time!

If you submit your application too early, even by accident, you will not be on the list. You also cannot re-apply, because duplicate applications are also immediately cut.

They will check all of the information asked for. Remember the phone number you put down, because they will ask you either the first four (앞번호 ap-beonho) or last four (뒷번호 dwit-beonho) numbers of the phone number to confirm your identity. It’s best to use the actual number for your phone/SIM card, because in the case of a sudden change in time or location they will send texts out to the number listed.

The Requirements

This is where it gets more complicated, because they will change what you need every day. I would recommend taking EVERYTHING that might possibly be listed if you are not confident in your ability to check the notice in detail.

They will always require -

PHOTO ID (사진부착신분증) : This must be your passport or Alien Registration Card (Korean ID).

EXO-L CARD (EXO-L 모바일카드): The app! It MUST be registered under your REAL NAME with your real birthdate. You also need to be actually on the app, which requires wi-fi / data. It cannot be a screencap. They will check if it’s actually the app!

OFFICIAL LIGHTSTICK (VER. 2) (공식야광봉) : Just this promotions they switched to requiring the 2nd version (white) lightstick. They check if it turns on! Make sure you have fresh/new batteries, and DO NOT leave the battery pack screwed on in your bag! The Bluetooth function will drain batteries even when your lightstick is not on.

If you do not have these you will be immediately cut from the list, no questions asked. You will be cut if your EXO-L card is not your real name, if it doesn’t match your ID, or if it’s a screencap. You will be cut if your lightstick will not turn on or. ALWAYS make sure you have these.

Other varying requirements -

DIGITAL DOWNLOAD RECEIPT (음원, 음원 구입내역) : Often SM only requires you to have the title song downloaded, but always make sure! Generally it MUST be from Melon, MNET, or Soribada, on an account under your real name (they change the sites occasionally, but Melon and MNET are always included). YOU NEED TO HAVE THE ACCOUNT INFO PAGE SHOWING YOUR USERNAME AND FULL NAME, TOO. Make sure both screencaps / pages show your username, and that none of the information on your user information page is ***ed out.

If your print-out is not right, they will let you run to a nearby place to print it and run back. If you do not know print shops nearby I would suggest taking the loss and accepting a lower tier. You will be pushed to the back of the line, but you will not be pushed to a lower tier (often having all the items = tier 1, and it goes down based on which items you’re missing).

ALBUMS (앨범 *** VER.) : When this is included, it is the most recent album. You must have the actual CD, and it’s best to have the case as well. (For ‘Don’t Mess Up My Tempo’ I am guessing they will require the case, because the CD looks the same for all versions.)

!! They OFTEN change which version / the number of versions they want. Some days they might want just one album, any version, other days they might ask for more than one or ask for specific versions. During Monster/Lucky One, some days they would want both Korean version albums, other days they would want the Chinese and Korean version of Monster, and on other days they wanted all four versions. !!

Fanstaff & The Recording

ALWAYS listen to fanstaff. Do not fight with them. Do not break the rules.

Even if you are given a number, you are not guaranteed to get in. The broadcasting stations can sometimes change the number of fans who are allowed in. This is not the fanstaffs’ fault. (It is often fans’ fault, for breaking a rule / being unruly, either while lining up or the week before.)

SM fanstaff has in the past cut all foreign fans from a line, or given foreign fans priority below Korean fans (regardless of residency status) because of one or a few foreign fans breaking the rules. Do not be the person responsible for this.

General Rules :

NO PICTURES, NO VIDEO, NO AUDIO RECORDING. : This includes with your phone. You cannot take pictures inside of the studio whatsoever - not selcas/selfies, and not even of the stage. SM fanstaff is so strict about this that you generally are not allowed to even have your phone out doing other things once you are inside the studio. Remember: A Korean fan might be told off/kicked out, but a foreign fan being caught might not only cause you to get kicked out, it could have bad consequences for all foreign fans. Getting caught by security instead of fanstaff can cause the entire fanclub to be kicked out and banned from the recording.

NO CALLING OUT TO THE MEMBERS. : I know this doesn’t really make sense. You want to cheer and call out and fangirl/boy. But SM is very strict about staying completely quiet except for the official fanchant, even when they’re performing. Between takes you need to stay as quiet as possible, too, even if EXO is on stage. Fans freaking out between takes/on standby can cause delays in the prerecording, and annoys the staff during the recording - too much can cause the broadcasting station to let in less fans the following week, so SM fan staff tries to be safe and just have fans be absolutely quiet except for the fanchants. (You also shouldn’t talk over a whisper even with the people next to you.)

I highly recommend trying to understand at least basic Korean before coming to an SM recording. The fanstaff often will not make the effort to try and speak a different language with you (though it depends on the person, how rushed they are, how rude fans in general are being that day, etc.) If you did not understand or missed something, try to ask the Korean fans next to you in line what has been said.

Fanstaff are there to make sure as many fans as possible get into the recordings, to make sure everything is as organized as possible (which doesnt’ always go too well), and to keep people from breaking rules that would reflect badly on the fandom and on EXO. Don’t make more trouble for them than they’re already having to deal with.

(( A story: At the Music Core recording for Tempo, security put us into the seats, and some girls with higher numbers ended up a bit closer to the front than fans with lower numbers. A handful of fans decided to loudly complain to security/fanstaff [even though other fans were telling them not to], which almost caused the prerecording to be cancelled / delayed, caused way more trouble than necessary, and made the fanstaff cry because they had fought to get as many people as possible into the recording. These fans caused more than 200 who could have gotten into the ‘Tempo’ or ‘Ooh La La La’ recording to be sent home without seeing anything, after waiting overnight. Yes, sometimes it’s unlucky and it sucks when that happens, but don’t ruin things for everyone just because you’re unhappy. ))

#exo #music shows #guide #exo guide #music show guide

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laird-brochtuarach · 6 years ago

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It’s often said that the best place to hide is in plain sight, but for Sam Heughan, that advice might not hold true. The actor has been palling around New York to promote his latest project, a comedy spy film, and it’s difficult to remain incognito when you have a dedicated fan club waiting outside each stop (a contingency that calls themselves — wait for it — “Heughligans”).

But the Heughligans are at bay for the moment. Making his way up to a photo studio near Bryant Park, Heughan browses through the passport of one of his team members, taking in the stops stamped in her booklet.

The Scottish actor has been putting his own passport to good use recently. After wrapping press duties in America for “The Spy Who Dumped Me” — which took him to Budapest, Berlin and Amsterdam while filming — Heughan will head back home to Glasgow for 10 days to arrange for a visa for South Africa, where he’ll next film a comic book-based feature with actor Vin Diesel in Cape Town.

“[Cape Town’s] such a great city, it’s everything I love — it’s the outdoors, it’s very good food and good wine, people,” says Heughan, who’s also a global brand ambassador for Barbour. “I hike a lot there, cycle; I just passed my motorbike test so touring my bike around there. Not surfing — I don’t want to go in water full of sharks,” he says, listing off his downtime plans while in South Africa. “It’s an amazing country. You can do so much.”

Heughan is clearly devoted to a regimen of physical activity, so much so that it led him to develop a charitable initiative, My Peak Challenge, rooted in promoting an active lifestyle. “When I moved back to Scotland for ‘Outlander,’ I was rediscovering my country and going hiking and climbing and cycling and all of these things,” says Heughan, who spent his teenage years near Edinburgh. “And I was like, I really want to share my love of the outdoors and also challenge myself to do different things, and that’s sort of how My Peak Challenge was born.”

The initiative, which encourages goal-setting and provides around 10,000 members — “Peakers” — with video workouts and nutrition plans, benefits various charities, including Bloodwise and Marie Curie. An upcoming prize connected to the challenge is a trip to Scotland, but not just any trip to Scotland: “It’s like a date with me, but at one of our charity galas,” Heughan says, his cerulean eyes ablaze.

With his schedule pretty much mapped out through 2020, after filming the Vin Diesel movie “Bloodshot,” he has another project in October followed by picking back up with 10 months of filming for season five of “Outlander” early next year. He credits exercise, and quiet time at home, as grounding forces.

“Exercise really helps me. It provides structure and to be honest, just being home, like in your own bed and a quiet evening. It sounds really boring, but actually it’s the moment when you can switch off and kind of regroup,” he says.

Heughan, who came up through the theater world and trained at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, has been in New York making the rounds for the female-led comedy “The Spy Who Dumped Me.” “It’s almost like the traditional Bond films have been flipped. You have female Bond roles, and I’m kind of like a bimbo really, I suppose,” he says of his character.

(Speaking of James Bond, Heughan is the latest name rumored to be in the running for the iconic role after Daniel Craig relinquishes his duties next year.)

In the film, Heughan plays a spy who provides contrast for the kookiness of leads Mila Kunis and Kate McKinnon. “The comedy for me was to play the straight guy and be a sort of bouncing board for them — they’re zany, and [my character] is like ‘what the hell is going on?’ It was fun to do that,” he says. “I’d never been a part of that, really; I come from a classical drama training of Shakespeare and Dostoyevsky and Chekhov, and then I was watching these women work, and there’s a real technique to it; it’s incredible. It’s not just like they’re funny people — they are funny — but it’s more about how hard they work.”

Mila Kunis and Sam Heughan in “The Spy Who Dumped Me.” Hopper Stone/SMPSP

Says the film’s director and cowriter Susanna Fogel, “He’s very warm and level and played a good foil for [McKinnon]’s craziness, because he played the buttoned-up guy very well, but not in a cold way. He can go from being intimidating and scary to being somebody that you’re rooting for because he has that innate warmth.” And like a true shape-shifting undercover agent, he can also be funny.

“Comedy is kind of exciting because it’s very alive, there’s some energy to it and you have to keep it alive. It’s amazing when it works, and when it doesn’t you can feel it. So I can see how it can be addictive,” says Heughan, who doesn’t have any other comedic projects on the horizon — well, unless you count “Outlander.” “I think there’s always a comedic element, even actually to ‘Outlander.’ It’s the situations and how characters react to situations,” he says.

Heughan just wrapped season four of the Starz show, which has helped generate his dedicated fan base. He describes filming the upcoming season as having been tough and crazy, but adds that he thinks they “ended on probably the strongest finale of any season.”

In the new season, the cast is headed to America circa the 1700s. “It’s very much the pioneers and settlers, so it’s a lot of time spent in woods, and building and in the mud,” Heughan says. While that part of the season is set in North Carolina, Heughan got to stay local for the shoot. “We had to find specific locations in Scotland that look like North Carolina. It’s remarkable — it really does, we have these great forests in Scotland, and these incredible trees that are so old, and mountain ridges. I went to North Carolina to see where we were supposed to be set, and it does look remarkably similar.”

It’s a good thing that Heughan likes to spend so much time outside. During his recent time spent in New York, he has seen a few shows, including Armie Hammer’s “Straight White Men” (he liked it), and he has been training with Ed Naper. “I spend a lot of time here – I love walking around the streets. And [the city] is so easy to walk,” he says. “When I was here last week, I had a meeting just off Central Park, and then I walked all the way down to SoHo. It’s just such a nice walk.”

So if you’re trying to find him, just look to Broadway. If nothing else, you’re bound to see him up on a billboard along the way.

#Sam Heughan #The spy who dumped me #my edits

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bts-love-sweat-tears · 6 years ago

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Tickled Pink (Follower Celebration Fic #4)

Title: Tickled Pink

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Type: Fluff, ultra-domestic! Joon

Rating:G, except for gratuitous language. I think you can say the f-bomb once in a PG-13 movie, so this would probably be R if it were a movie. Sorry not sorry! :P

Word Count: 1,505

A/N: Namjoon fluff as requested by a lovely anon! Spot who’s whipped for Namjoon’s fashion choices. Yes, yes, c’est moi. I’m so sorry for the delay! I moved home and started school back up and it’s leaving me a little tired and uninspired. But please enjoy the fourth of five for my 200 follower milestone. If I don’t get the Tae fluff out quick, I might have to roll right into my next milestone lol. You guys have been so good to me, honestly. I know I’m terrible at chatting (infp problems), but I’m truly grateful for each and every one of you and the comments you leave <3

Well fuck. You’d been trying to help Namjoon out before he went on tour, doing his laundry while he was at the studio trying to wrap a few last-minute things up. He hadn’t asked you, but you had planned on surprising him by taking at least one thing off of his admittedly very long to-do list. What you hadn’t been planning on was one of your errant red socks making its way into the load as well, and now all you had to show for your well-intentioned efforts was a load of clothes tinged faintly pink. And not just any pink clothes: all his favorites that he’d been planning to take on tour with him. VISVIM, WTAPS, MASTERMIND, YAMAMOTO. The further you dug through the load, the more the dollar signs were adding up in your head. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. You knew he wouldn’t care about the money, but you cared about it, as a matter of principle. Not to mention his sentimental attachment to the brands that comprised his carefully curated wardrobe.

Your boyfriend was basically the god of disaster, so maybe you should have been expecting something to this effect, but you hadn’t realized that such a dubious distinction apparently applied to you through association. You sorted through the items again, trying to determine the extent of the damage. Bleach might work, you mused, but of course there was none in the apartment the two of you shared. Much to your mutual chagrin, it often sat empty, with Joon’s high profile career leading one of the world’s most popular idol groups, and your own consulting work. The two of you treasured the time you spent in the apartment together, away from the eyes of the world and the pressures of work, but what that meant now was that you didn’t have normal things that most people likely had at their disposal. You decided that you would take it to the dry cleaners and let them work whatever black magic (and strong chemicals) they had at their disposal. What you should have done originally, had you actually thought it through.

Before you were able to put your emergency plan into action, you heard the signature beep of your digital lock, and the door swing open and hit the wall, Joon’s cursing muffled as he kicked off his shoes in the entryway. Panicked, you scrambled around the laundry room, burying the recently dyed load under some sheets you’d been meaning to get to.You would just have to take them to the cleaner and ship them to him later.You tripped/skipped out of the laundry room, swooping in for a hug. You stayed there longer than strictly necessary, breathing in the comfort that Namjoon always provided. Even though you both of you had been through it (what felt like) a million times before, you always missed him like crazy when he went on tour. It never got easier. Thinking about the tour reminded you of your misadventure in the laundry room, and you felt a guilty blush paint your cheeks.

Fortunately, Joon didn’t seem to notice. He released you and began to putter around the apartment, throwing things haphazardly into the duffle he was responsible for. You had no idea how he even knew what was in the duffle bag later, or how he found the power-cord that you knew would inevitably fall to the very bottom of his bag. You used the stackable travel cubes, clips, ziplock bags, and anything else that might make the journey as painless as possible. After two near misses with his passport, you had bought him a passport holder he could wear under his clothes, but unsurprisingly, he had lost that almost immediately as well. Opposites attract, or so they say. He was lucky that BigHit staff handled most of the mandatory stuff or might be missing a shirt when he went on stage. But tonight it worked in your favor, since he probably wouldn’t even realize that he had packed different shirts than he had originally intended. Regardless, every minute he putzed around, you expected a confused, “Babe, have you seen the shirts I set aside earlier?”

You tried to stay up as long as possible, not trusting your luck thus far. But your eyelids soon dropped closed, soothing voice of whatever TV personality lulling you into a dreamless sleep on the couch. Joon usually stayed awake the night before a long-haul flight, with the intention of adapting to whatever new time zone he would be in (and to make the godawful travel time seem a little shorter). If you couldn’t be sleeping next to him, the couch was your next favorite spot, the back and arms of the chair caging you in comfortingly.

Some time later, you felt a gentle kiss press into your forehead, and a warm presence moved a blanket onto you. You stirred slightly, struggling to move after whatever REM cycle you’d just interrupted.

“Shit, babe, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Joon looked repentant, voice with that late-night raspy edge that you loved.

“What time is it?” You murmured, voice almost as scratchy as his.

“Four,” he replied softly. “I have another hour or so before I need to leave. Since you’re awake now, should we take this to the bedroom?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively but from the lightness in his tone, you knew he had something else in mind.

You grinned back. “Joonie, you know I can never say no to cuddles.” The two of you relocated to the master bedroom a few doors away, and you spent your last night for three-ish months wrapped in each other’s arms. Perfection.

You had been together for a long time, but you would never get tired of his cuddles. Though sometimes you felt like his long limbs were everywhere when you were trying to sleep, always snaking their way to “your” side of the bed, they were perfect when you wanted to be tangled up in him. He idly rubbed small circles in your back. Normally, you weren’t touchy, and your friends used to ask you what you would do when you met someone and didn’t want to touch. But what they didn’t understand was that you didn’t want casual touches from people you didn’t know well. Joon and you were like halves of the same whole; puzzle pieces with different edges but fundamentally the same when it came to the big picture. You exhaled and moved even closer, knowing that it would be months before you felt this way again.

What felt like moments later, he gently slid you to the side, shuffling around to find his slippers. It was still dark outside, and while Namjoon had turned on a few dim lights, the shadows felt foreboding. Or maybe it was just because you knew a long separation was coming. You dozed lightly while he got dressed, dreaming that you could prolong the inevitable.

Joon laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, alerting you to the fact that it was time. You used to want to go to the airport to see him off, but with the pushing and shoving of the fans (and the fact that they two of you had to be relatively covert), it no longer seemed worth it. He brought you in, tighter than usual, and he seemed just as unwilling to let go. You arched your neck up, peppering kisses along as much of his face as you could reach. He smiled, dimples out full force, and though it killed you now, you knew you would make it through this, as you had before. Thank God for FaceTime.

A car horn honked outside, signaling that he really had to leave. With a final kiss, he grabbed his bag and shoes, and was out the door. A mix of dejected and exhausted, you plopped back into bed, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before your own workday started. You weren’t fully awake, so you hoped it wouldn’t prove too difficult.

Hours later, during your lunch break, after a productive morning trying to take your mind off a certain lanky boy’s absence, you found yourself perusing Naver for any interesting headlines, and that’s when you saw it. The airport photos had been posted, and Namjoon had opted to wear a (new) pink shirt with a unique dye job. Media outlets were speculating whether it had been custom-made for him. You snorted. It was custom, alright. He had paired it with a pink beanie, his whistle, and some pink Converse. You snorted-this was not what you had in mind when you had hidden it at the bottom of the laundry bin. But he looked damn good, and you smiled as you opened your text messages, seeing that you had an unread notification.

Hey baby, what did you think of my outfit today? ;)

Your cheeks were as warm as the hue he had been photographed in.

#follower milestone fic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you

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blounty55-blog · 6 years ago

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DREAM JOB AFTER GRADUATION

Firstly, what is a dream job, and can it ever become a reality? Every graduate probably has their own employment aspirations after graduation and will wonder what doors their honours degree in photography can open for them.

Personally, I’m not totally convinced that just having the letters BA(Hons) after your name can be a passport to achieving a salary that sustains a good standard of living, keeping a roof over your head and food on your plate. Gone will be the days of relying on a meagre university grant for this sustenance and now we will be heading into the real world where, if you don’t work, you don’t eat!

Failing to meet deadline dates will also have a detrimental effect on the wage packet and there certainly won’t be any extenuating circumstances for not submitting work to a client on time, only loss of income or even worse, a financial re-imbursement.

Although I feel that I can get on with most people, something that I have had to do throughout my previous professional working life, I still find myself ill at ease if I am asked to take portrait photograph of a person, even if they are family or friends. The course tutors have indicated that confidence in this field would come with experience, but my own photographic practice and preferences have shied away from portraiture and concentrated predominately on landscape photography.

Some may argue that this genre could well be one of the easiest of the photographic mediums, just go out on a nice day and come home a couple of hours later with a few pretty snaps of the countryside. Whatever partialities one photographer may have on a theme, another photographer may well deride and reason that their own particular medium, such as portraiture, has a greater standing in the world of photographic art.

So, what for me, would be a dream job in photography? How can I find a job that gets me out of bed on a cold, wet winter morning and to make me think that I’m going to have fun at work today? Would it be better to be working in a nice warm studio making nice images of people who want to be photographed?

I am under no illusion that in today’s modern society, where everyone is a photographer, snapping away with their smart phones and uploading to social media a nice picture of what they are going to eat for their supper, that life as a professional photographer will be anything but an easy one. ��Personally, I think that the use of smart phones has contributed to the decline professional newspaper photographer as picture editors could well be flooded by free images made by the general public, but that is another debate.

So where do I go from here when I try to decide upon my dream job in photography? I do have a couple of ideas, one simpler to achieve than the other. The easy option is to simply go out and take landscape photographs of areas of local beauty and interest, make good quality prints and attempt to sell them at weekly markets and craft fairs especially those in the areas where I have photographed. Probably not the most aspiring of business plans but it might be a way to get my name known and hopefully even get some photographic commissions and to generate a financial income.

The second and more ambitious idea is to find a way to become attached to the United Nations and to photographically document their peace keeping missions from a civilian point of view. This type of work would probably fall into the ‘Documentary’ genre of photography and is something that I am going to have to look deeper into in the near future.

The world of photography is a crowded market with few employment openings so, for the time being, in the words of Mack David, Hal Hoffman and Jerry Livingston, A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes, When You’re Fast Asleep… but it’s now time to wake up and try to put these dreams into reality!

https://www.lyricsfreak.com/c/cinderella/a+dream+is+a+wish+your+heart+makes_21248863.html

LANDSCAPE. SELLING IMAGES

https://www.istockphoto.com/gb/photos/landscapes

https://www.thephoblographer.com/2017/08/14/how-to-make-money-as-a-landscape-photographer/

https://www.format.com/magazine/resources/photography/sell-landscape-photos-online

https://www.freelanceuk.com/photographers/photography_sell.shtml

https://www.gettyimages.co.uk

UNITED NATIONS. EMPLOYMENT

https://careers.un.org

https://careers.un.org/lbw/Home.aspx

http://www.un.org/en/index.html

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btsinspirationtakesme · 7 years ago

Text

Namjoon prompt: “I’m not going to be the one who ruins your relationship, you are.”

AN: This is being published as it is (which means I’m publishing for the sake of freeing up my drafts or else this would just be deleted), it’s been sitting in my drafts for nearly a year! It’s also probably my most angst filled piece in the sense that there’s no happy ending or move to a potential happy ending. If anything, it’s a little feminist (very very loosely).

Also because of it being published how it is, there’s a shift to another location really quickly without any background etc. Basically- it’s a draft that shouldn’t have been published but it’s complete anyway.

You avoided Namjoon as much as possible the following week at work, but it proved impossible considering you were his personal assistant. You also grew self conscious in front of the other members, because your little text incident had probably gotten around their ears. You were expecting to be called any minute by the HR department telling you had been reported just in case Namjoon changed his mind so that put you on even more of a knife edge than usual.

To make things worse you would be flying out to Japan later on today to help with their overseas promotions.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jin, asked finding you staring into space and not at the pile of documents in front of you about their passports. He knew that there had been an awkward situation between you and Namjoon, but he thought a week was enough and it was time for things to go back to normal- or whatever normal was for an intern.

You snapped out of your thoughts. “Yes, I’m really fine! Is there anything I can get you like tea or coffee?” You asked, but mentally cursed yourself as you realised how annoyed it sounded. You weren’t annoyed, just fearing for your future career prospects in media management.

Jin smiled seeing how nervous you were and decide he would get Namjoon to talk to you to ease things out, you were an intern after all who was probably having her first real job.

“I’m good thanks, but Namjoon has been going on about getting a coffee from the place down the street the whole morning.” There, Jin thought. Job done, they’d have to talk now. Namjoon didn’t say anything about getting coffee, but he knew the boy loved coffee from the small outlet near the building. The worst thing he wanted was an awkward trip to Japan with the both of you acting weird around each other. You on the other hand, started dreading the idea of having to go to Namjoon now. You couldn’t get out of it, because Jin had just hinted to you.

You told him you’d go and get Namjoon his coffee, and the look of pure delight Jin gave you as if he had just fixed global warming irked you. There was something he was doing, or planning but you didn’t have time to think about it too much. You had passport forms to fill out before you made your way over to the airport later tonight for your flight to Japan. You had to give the laborious forms a break to get coffee for Namjoon, so you said bye to Jin before going to the coffee place he was talking about. It was freezing cold and the weather was ghastly windy but you managed to get Namjoon favourite which you knew by now- a large matcha latte without any sugar.

You found Namjoon in the studio taking a break from recording alone, sitting on his own by a desk as he reverently wrote something down. You put the cup of coffee down, causing him to look up from the sudden sound. You gave him a weak, awkward smile that was a contrast against his wide and surprised eyes.

“It’s from the place down the street.” You added, pursing your lips.

“It’s minus 10 outside.” Namjoon immediately replied, noticing the bits of white in your hair from snowflakes. Shit, did he think the coffee was too cold? You took hold of the cup again and inspected how it was feeling. Warm.

“Is it too cold?” You asked, inspecting it further. Shit, you had messed up again.

“No, no, leave it. That’s really thoughtful of you, it’s my favourite place too.” He said, scratching the back of his head shyly. The clocks in your head started working, and you realised this was probably Jin’s little plan to get you two talking.

You let out a smile, before asking him if there was anything else you could do for him.

“Can you at least listen to me?” He asked, bringing the situation back to that incident you really didn’t want to talk about.

“There’s nothing to talk about, we’re adults who can do what we want.” You said, putting on your ‘obviously’ voice. You hid any emotions, because it would look so stupid to be that intern who thought she really had a chance with one of the biggest rap idols around. You even smiled to consolidate how unaffected you were.

“Oh-kay then.” Namjoon said slowly, awkwardly before looking back to his work. That was your cue to leave, and you were so close to walking out a free person when your brain just couldn’t let your heart go.

“I was drunk, when I texted you. Just in case you didn’t realise.”

The words felt heavy on your lips, because they weren’t true. You were so stupidly sober when you texted him confessing your feelings.

Stupid, stupid girl. The picture that was sent back burned in the back of your mind. The man you had fell for, had made himself open to you in bed with a stunningly beautiful woman kissing his cheek.

“I didn’t send it, the photo.” He said, breaking the awkward silence with a laugh. “My girlfriend, Jee-Hae did. She’s…her sense of humor is a kind of unique.”

The tears behind your eyes had welled up now, but you took a deep breath to try and clear your mind before you spoke. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have texted you back any way, it was just my drunk stupid brain.” You defended yourself, re-calling the messages you sent after telling Namjoon how much of an ass he was sending you those.

“So…I’m glad this is cleared up now.” He said, but the way his eyes looked down made you think that he was lying and avoiding your stare. You hated dishonesty, so you played his game and smiled. You told him you were glad too, and that you should leave if you wanted to pack in time for your flight this evening.

“You don’t want to talk or tell me about your day?” Namjoon asked, when you were so close to leaving the room again. You sighed, he didn’t understand that this little routine of yours where you told each other about your days was where the problem of liking him had started. It was where you misread signals, and assumed touching to mean flirting when in his mind they were innocent gestures.

You didn’t want to flirt with him, or let him flirt with you. His girlfriend had clearly sensed something was up when he spent his nights in the studio talking and working with you instead of going out on dates with her. For a man with an IQ of 148, you would have assumed he would realise by now at least that his girl wasn’t happy.

“I just have a lot of work to do before tonight. I can’t stay.” You said, which had some truth to it. You were about to go into your final secondment with bighit which meant your days were numbered here, and you wanted to leave a good impression and not be labelled as the intern who spent most of her time flirting with the leader of Bangtan.

Japan:

“When...did she go out?”

Namjoon couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned and eventually turned his phone on to see what the rest of the world was doing. His girlfriend had given him ten miss calls, and he contemplated calling her back but decided against when he didn’t know where you were. Surely, you should be a priority right now considering you were here and alone, whilst his girlfriend was probably safe at home.

There was no telling if you were safe, so it was obvious for him to check on you first. He decided to call you, but on the 11th ring decided that something bad must of been happening, like you were being taken advantage of. He decided that sleeping or calling it an early night for once in his life wouldn’t do, so put on a t-shirt and decided to see if you were in your room.

The shared living room with the rest of bangtan was awake though as Namjoon saw Jungkook and Jimin playing cards.

“Have you seen Y/N, is she back?” He asked, trying to be casual as he lay down on the sofa.

The two were invested in playing their game, so Namjoon asked again and only Jimin’s attention was caught.

“Who, Y/N? No, I don’t know if she’s coming home.” Jimin giggled whilst focused on his game. Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to Namjoon at all, fascinated by how Jimin was managing to beat him in cards of all things.

“Can’t she get in trouble with the company if she…doe stuff like that?” Namjoon asked, trying to sound unaffected because he wasn’t. He just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to get fired from your job, considering you spent so much time talking to him on how you loved it and it was good for your future.

“Ahh, hyung if you’re not going to play stop talking nonsense!” Jungkook yelled, frustrated by how Namjoon wasn’t helping with concentration. Namjoon huffed and told his youngers that they were capitalist pigs for not caring about employee welfare, before storming outside their hotel suite.

He decided he’d have to call you, but the moment he raised his phone to his ear he didn’t have to call you any further. You were walking down the lobby towards his direction, dressed in stunning red with your ‘date’. You looked happy, the way you looked when he told you a joke and made you laugh. It was probably nothing more than just a feeling of friendly protection, but Namjoon didn’t like the guy that was next to you. He wore the wrong clothes, laughed weirdly and kept trailing his hands on your shoulder.

You stopped when you saw Namjoon right in front of you, and the mask of passivity on his face made you think that he was just going about his business probably headed towards the lobby. He smiled brightly at Jae.

“Ah, Y/N you’re back! You should really get some sleep, it’s very late don’t you think? Don’t you have to be up at 6 tomorrow?” Namjoon asked, a bright smile on his face that if you didn’t know better would say was forced. He stood there with his hands in his pockets like he just had rolled out of his room casually and was walking down the hall.

You were stumped, couldn’t he see you were kind of...busy? What he said was out of character, and that made you curious because his behaviour with people he didn’t know was reserved, unless he was on camera.

Jae looked at you confused, a shy smile on his lips that translated to ‘what the hell is up with this guy?”

“Nothing a good coffee run in the morning won’t fix.” You said, tight lipped as you took Jae’s hand and smiled at him trying to reassure him you really didn’t know what Namjoon’s problem was.

You tried to excuse yourself and Jae, who you were planning on taking to your room but Namjoon butted in again.

“I need my clothes ironed.” He said, out of the blue.

“I ironed them with other staff this morning.”

“They’re all creased again.” He shot back, making you seem incompetent in front of Jae.

“I’ll get up extra early to iron them again then.” You said through gritted teeth.

“I...Y/N if you have stuff to do it’s cool we can catch up again when you’re next in Tokyo.” Jae said, feeling uneasy at the small showdown between you and Namjoon.

Namjoon smiled at Jae. “Thanks for understanding, man.”

Jae wasn’t too impressed, avoiding Namjoon’s stare and focusing on you. “Seriously, you’ll be back in no time.” He said to try and convince you leaving was okay. You on the other hand, were livid with annoyance.

“Bu-”

“It’s cool. Come on, you can walk me down.” Jae said, taking your hand and walking towards the elevator. You took a seething glance at Namjoon who was there smiling before following Jae. You took him downstairs, explaining that he didn’t really need to go but Jae seemed to think you had some urgent tasks to attend to. You didn’t, Namjoon was just being an ass hole who couldn’t stand the sight of you having fun.

After Jae had left you made your way upstairs, hopeful to avoid Namjoon but was met with a lack of luck as he waited for you just outside his door.

“What was that there?” You asked, getting straight to the point.

He looked at you acting confused, which made you grit your teeth in anger.

“Let’s get some ice-cream.” He said, putting his arms arounds your shoulders and turning your body to the direction of the elevator. You were even more confused now.

“What? No, I want an explanation. You know your clothes are ironed, they’re not creased so why didn’t you let me stay with Jae?” You asked, quick for answers.

Namjoon sighed.

“Come on Y/N, I did you a favour. You’re so much better than guys like him.”

“You don’t even know him! What does it even have to do with you?” You protested.

“You can have fun with me.” He said simply.

Your eyebrows twitched.

“You don’t get it do you? God for someone with a stupidly good IQ you’re so dense!”

You pulled at your hair. “You can’t just ‘hang around’ with me anymore- you have a girlfriend who you’re supposed to pay attention to!” You yelled, your voice cracking at the end.

“What does this have to do with Jee?” Namjoon asked defensively.

“She trusts me, I trust her.” Namjoon added, making you seem like an old fashioned grandmother.

“Really? Well Jee’s a better person that me, because if my boyfriend who I only see once a month had the night off and was spending it with his personal assistant getting ice cream or whatever, instead of talking to me I’d be pretty pissed.” You said with spite. Namjoon knew you had a point deep inside, he knew something was wrong with him and it wasn’t just because of you- he hadn’t been wanting to spend time with Jee since last summer. You were just the icing on the cake. He didn’t want to admit it though.

“I’m not going to be the one who ruins your relationship, you are.” You added with might, you weren’t going to be the woman who caused another girl to cry.

“

#namjoon #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #namjoon angst #bangtan

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