~Author's Note~
This was one long overdue fic that I had planned. I also had written it long ago but never posted it because hmmm. You can see my writing here isn't how it is now. But I'm too lazy to go over it a third time and fix it up. Anyway, enjoy this new fic~!
Sincerely, omg I have too many fics,
~Ms. AtomicBomb
He walked into the moderately sized room, the short blonde female right behind him. He had never thought he would actually be doing this—after all this time he had finally given in to society. A fashion magazine was not the best place he could be found in, but if it gave him the money he needed to give his brother, then he would do it.
Two weeks earlier...
"Sir, you are very handsome," a young woman smiled at him, "how would you like to become a model with my company, Mana Inc.?" Her smile was vibrant and it made her decorated lips ache a little.
Diarmuid gave an apologetic smile and shook his head, "I am very sorry, but I am not interested."
"Well, sir," she sighed, "If you are to change your mind, here's my card."
He was tired of women and men coming up to him and asking him to become a model for their companies, but it seemed like today they were coming at him out of the nowhere, he had already received two other offers from Ki and Rei, and even Thosaka Co., but he still was not interested in all these modelling companies or in modelling over all.
Diarmuid continued to make his way to his workplace which at the moment was the auto repair shop because it was frankly all he could get. The good thing was that the pay sufficed for his rent and for his food. As long as he had enough to eat, then it would all be alright; he needn't worry about anything else.
"Diarmuid," he heard his boss calling and he jogged towards the front of the garage.
"Yes?" He looked at the buff man, waiting patiently next to a short female.
"You are good with motorcycles, help her out," he commanded before leaving Diarmuid with the woman that was talking on the phone. She was dressed in a black suit with black gloves and it made him wonder if she was burning up. He was wearing a white shirt and blue work pants and he was hot as hell, how would she not be at least waving air to cool herself?
The female seemed rather irritated for she was tapping her foot impatiently and arguing over the phone with whoever was on the other line, "And you let him quit just like that? The shoot is tomorrow! Tomorrow! Do you know how hard it is going to be to find someone to fill in for him? Someone that the photographer will agree with?"
Diarmuid looked at the motorcycle and then turned towards the woman, waiting patiently as she was busy with the call. He stood straight and moved his head along to the music on the radio; a classical rock radio station because he was fed up with the same six songs being replayed over and over on the mainstream radio stations. She handed him the keys, still letting her attention be directed to the person on the other line.
"One second," she grumbled into the phone and then held the phone to her chest, "It is making a weird noise and it is also leaking." She looked at the man, her green eyes grazing him over before she went back to bickering on the phone.
Diarmuid turned the bike on and tried to listen to the motor, indeed it was making an odd noise and it was leaking some oil. Although the bike looked rather new it seemed that she used it for high speeds and that meant that the noise was only normal. He looked over at her a little expectantly and she was still on the small smart phone of hers.
"Yes?" She put the phone to her chest again, "Can you fix it?"
Diarmuid gave a smile and nodded, "'Course I can," he grinned, "You might need to leave it here for a while, though."
"Can it be done by tomorrow?" She looked at him, still tapping her foot.
"Um, well," he scratched his arm, "we have other cars to get to and well..."
"Please? I'll pay you more," she reached for her wallet in her blazer's pocket.
Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "I am sorry, but we do not work like that. We get the cars as they come. Earliest will be a week."
She shook her head quickly, letting her pony tail shake along with it in an almost comedic manner, "No, no, no. I sort of need it by tomorrow,"
Since she was being a little pushy and all, he nodded lightly and sighed, "I'll see what I can do."
A soft smile formed on her lips and she seemed very thankful, "Thank you very much." Then—after that—she went back to her phone call, except this time, she sounded much calmer than before.
He watched as she walked towards the office of the building and made arrangements with the manager about when she was going to pick the motorcycle up. They had been talking for a while, that it made Diarmuid wonder what they were actually discussing. She left the office and then began to walk his way. She had already finished talking on the phone and she was actually fanning herself with her hand—so she was burning up in that suit.
"Hello again," she nodded his way and he gave her a small and acknowledging smile.
"Hello." He had not noticed then, but there was car oil on his face and even his hair, and that is why she was smiling at him at the moment; because he seemed quite funny.
"How would you like to…" she bit her lower lip, "do a favour for me?"
Diarmuid stood up straight and wiped some sweat from his forehead, "If it involves your motorcycle, I would love to help you out."
The woman nodded slowly and began, "I just spoke to your manager and he agreed to have you finish the job by tomorrow, but I do not have time to pick it up…"
Diarmuid was never really good at reading peoples thoughts, so he simply stood silently in front of her waiting for her to finish with her sentence and then he would see if he could be able to do what she asked.
"I was wondering if you could drop it off at my workplace. Your manager agreed but I wanted to ask you for consent."
Diarmuid shot his head towards his manager's office and watched as he had a triumphant smirk on his face upon seeing him through the small window. He let out a choked defeated sigh, "It would be my pleasure." She could tell that his voice was forced out and it was not honestly his pleasure.
The short female smiled up at him and passed him a small business card, "That is the address, it would be convenient if you drop it off at around three in the afternoon. Call when you arrive so that I know when to come down and help you park it."
Diarmuid slowly nodded and watched as she thanked him and left the auto repair shop. He looked down at the motorcycle and sighed as he shook his head, "Great." He mumbled and then glanced at the business card that she had handed him. He read it over and saw her name in big bold letters, "Arturia Pendragon…" He mumbled her name and sighed again before shoving the card into his back pocket.
The following day, the tall Irishman looked up at a tall glass building and tilted his head to the right, "Are you serious?" He looked down at the piece of paper and saw the company's logo printed on it.
Pendragon Agency
"This has to be a joke," he grumbled, because he was well aware that the company specialized in modelling and other talents, but was soon interrupted by his cellphone ringing. The young man pulled out the flip phone he owned—because he frankly could not afford one of those smartphones that everyone owned nowadays—and answered the call, "Hello?"
"Heeey, bro!" He heard the voice of his older brother through the cellphone. It was never a good thing when Cú Chulainn elongated his hellos and with that tone as if he was trying to get something from the younger male.
Diarmuid sighed and turned around back to the motorcycle, "Yeah? What's up?"
"I was calling to see how my little brother was doing, how are you?"
"I'm doing well, now tell me why you really called me."
"Quick to the point as always. Well," his brother laughed nervously, "I'm kind of in a bind and I owe some money to some people…so… I was hoping that you would have some money to help me out."
Diarmuid groaned, "How much do you owe?"
"So you'll help me out? Oh thank you! I must have the best brother on the planet!" Cú Chulainn sounded so hopeful and grateful.
"I never said that," he leaned against the motorcycle, crossing an arm over his chest and tucking it under the other.
The dark haired man could practically hear the frown on the other's lips, "Aw, come on, bro, help me out, pleeease?"
Diarmuid sighed, "I was asking how much you owed in order to see how much I could possibly lend to you."
"Um, it's not that much."
"Okay, but can you tell me how much?"
"Ten thousand." Then there was absolute silence between the males until Diarmuid noticed that he had been holding his breath.
He coughed and cleared his throat, "Not that much?! Cú Chulainn, do you understand how much ten thousand is? Do you want me to sell my soul? What did you even do to ask for ten thousand dollars?"
Cú Chulainn chuckled from the other line, "Long story but it's not like a mafia or a gang. Or drugs, so we're good. I got to get the money to them in a month…"
"A month? Do you know how much I earn in a month? One thousand five hundred. How am I supposed to get ten thousand?"
"Dia, you're smart and you've got a pretty face. I have faith you can figure something out, lil bro, please?"
Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair and then nodded slowly, "Sure, whatever, I'll see what I can do. But this is the last time I help you pay your debts, and right afterwards; you will come back and live where I can monitor you."
Cú Chulainn laughed, "Of course, anything for you, thank you Diarmuid. You're the best brother ever."
"Pack to be able to return, got it?"
"Of course!" Cú Chulainn cheered before bidding a farewell and then hanging up the phone.
Diarmuid shook his head and sighed, "What am I going to do with you, Cú?" he mumbled under his breath and then lifted his head to see a man standing in front of him.
"Good afternoon sir, do you want me to park your vehicle for you?" It was a bell boy, or those people that work to park rich people's cars for a 'living', but it was probably the poor boy's part-time job.
Diarmuid smiled, "Ah, no, this is actually an auto I'm dropping off."
"For who?" The man blinked, "I can leave it in their parking space."
"Arturia Pendragon." Diarmuid replied and noticed that it would save him time if he just let the short boy take care of the parking.
"Oh! You must be the one she was waiting for! Perfect! Let me park the vehicle and I will lead you up to her office right away."
"Oh wait! No, I don't—" He was cut off by the boy taking the motorcycle keys from his hands.
"Just stay here." Then the brown-haired male was gone with the motorcycle but returned rather quickly—which surprised Diarmuid because it had taken the boy less than ten minutes to park the vehicle and then return, "Right this way." He said as he led Diarmuid into the tall building.
The entryway of the building was huge and white. The tiles were white, the walls were white and the windows were, well, windows. The colour and the windows created an ambiance of spaciousness. It was a beautiful building and it made Diarmuid feel out of place as he saw all the males in business suits and classy clothing while he stood in a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and a red and black plaid button-up—which was not buttoned up. Don't even get me started on his white vans.
They entered an elevator filled with well-dressed people and the bell boy pressed one of the top numbers, surprising Diarmuid again because the kid was short and the button was pretty high. Of course the bell boy was not an actual child—he was probably eighteen maximum but his height was short despite his mature and handsome face.
People left the tightly packed elevator as the elevator ascended and stopped at many floors. Even the elevator was fancy.
The bellboy led Diarmuid out of the elevator and into another fancy floor, then past the reception and knocked on an office that had a golden plate reading 'Pendragon'. The boy opened the door after a cue and pushed Diarmuid inside before closing the door again.
The office was big and the view of the skyline was amazing from the big window, he had barely noticed the short blond female that sat at the desk, "Hello," that was what snapped his attention from the window to her.
"Oh, hello." He gave a nod of acknowledgement and then gave her a simple smile.
"Want to take a seat?" She signalled to the chair in front of her and noted as he shook his head, "Well, I actually wanted to ask another favour of you. Your manager agreed and of course, once more, I am asking for your consent."
It seemed like people really needed his help nowadays, "I would have to hear what the favour is before I commit to anything."
The female sat back on the chair and crossed a leg over the other, "I suppose that is very fair… I am asking if you could cover one of my models for a shoot." Her eyebrows lifted in question as she watched the man shift his weight to the other leg.
"I'm sorry but—"
"They pay is two thousand per shoot, and with a face like yours I'm sure it can be easily five thousand." She was quick to interrupt him before he declined, "The Einzbern Magazine is very famous and if you were on it, both sales and appreciation would skyrocket. I do not want to force you into anything, but I like to think myself persuasive. Another much respected Magazine is The Grail, and I could also get you on the cover of that one."
Diarmuid thought about the money and the fact that this was his big chance to help his brother out, "How many photoshoots would I get this month and by when would I get the money?" He wasn't always just about the money but his brother needed his help.
"I can get you three photoshoots in the next two weeks and a fashion show. It is time for summer fashion and we could probably get you modeling some bathing suits. I don't usually scout, in fact, the application process for Pendragon Agency is a pain in the ass, so you would be what I like to call a 'special' case."
"How much does the fashion show pay?" He was quick to get to the point.
"Well, considering that it is for a week, you could get about three thousand," She swung her head from left to right as she played about with a silver pen, "Of course these are not concrete numbers, could be more could be less depending on consumer demand. If you are well liked, which I'm sure you have no problem with that, then the pay is higher. People will buy your magazine within seconds of release. Your name on billboards, crowds of people packed just to catch a glimpse of you."
Diarmuid shook his head, "I am not interested in fame. I just need to make ten thousand dollars by the following month."
"I could make you a loan and you can pay it off as you work." She had a small smirk on her lips as she was hopeful that she got him. If she could get this man to be on the cover of the next issue of Einzbern Magazine, it would mean pure success.
Then it hit Diarmuid, numbers were not the only thing he should be talking about, hell he had never been a model before! What did one even do? "Thing is," he began, "I have never modeled before."
"I know," she grinned, "If you had, I would be upset at the company who'd have let you go."
"So, I don't exactly know what to do."
"Look pretty. That's what a model does. I actually want some shoots of you in the auto repair shop; that would be perfect for the main pages of the magazine." She grinned, "So what do you say? Do you want to be a part-time model?"
"I guess that I accept."
