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pasteidolons · 16 days

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aphelion - hjs

pairing: archaeologist!hong jisoo x curator!reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, short story other characters: kim mingyu, xu minghao, choi seungcheol, park sooyoung, kang seulgi warnings: afab reader, alcohol use, cursing, smut (oral, p in v sex), people not able to talk out their feelings word count: 13.5k summary: the past catches up to you at an archeology exhibit in the italian town of pompeii. feelings trapped and unknown come to light when you end up face to face with someone you thought you��d never see again.

It’s not that the Italian sun is unfamiliar to you, you’d basked in its glow on a handful of occasions as you had traveled and worked in this country rich in both wine and history. The sun bearing down on you isn’t harsh, but it isn’t kind either, its soft rays acting to lull you into a dreamlike state of relaxation and wonder as it swallows the fluorescent lights of the airport as the sliding glass doors lead you outside and into its heat. Stone pines reaching towards the heavens, it is a strangely comforting feeling to see them looming above the cypress trees that adorn the landscape around the Naples airport. Maybe it’s you just thankful to be back on solid ground, the flight had been turbulent and the line at customs hellish. All you really want is a nap.

“Oh my god I can’t believe we made it,” hand finding the rim of a jet-black pair of Ray Bans, Park Sooyoung’s attention is drawn to the bright sky above, cloudless and blue as it reflects in the lenses of her glasses. “How long is the drive to the house?”

You and your friend had met up a few days earlier in order to travel together to an archeological conference in the historical hotspot of Pompeii. She, being an archivist in New York, and you, being one in London, had rarely seen each other since your grad school days and took this as an opportunity to convene with another friend, Mingyu, and play catch-up. It isn’t the most ideal of circumstances, since this is a work trip, but you’ll take what you can get in stride and hope for the best.

Papers folding and bending against each other as the pair of you stroll through the exit terminal, various cars and buses aligning the strip to both pick up and drop off passengers, you sigh, “Half an hour?”

The now meaningless plane tickets and visa information are now tucked away in a pocket of your bag, gone to the world until you’ll need it again to assess your travel information for reimbursement purposes. Flying on the company dime isn’t something you’re unwilling to do.

From what your phone had told you and the various guides that had tried to help in the airport, you’re looking at a relatively short journey to the home you’ll be staying in. Your other hand holds the grip of your rolling suitcase as it trails behind you, clicking against the tile underfoot, “Although, Mingyu said that he could drive extra fast if we needed to get there sooner.”

The only way you can tell that your friend’s eyes had widened is from her eyebrows peeking out from the top of her sunglasses and her mouth left slightly agape at your statement, “No thanks. If it’s anything like it was back in New York, I’d prefer to live this weekend.”

Small laugh escaping you, you know she’s excited to see him, but she’d never admit as much. “He said he’d be under the Alitalia sign,” eyes scanning the cars but more importantly the faces of the drivers to try and determine a recognizable one among the masses.

“There he is!” Sooyoung’s voice, shrill and excited, calls out as she rushes over to a small red Fiat parked parallel between two large tour buses. A roll of your eyes at how obvious she’s being, it isn’t tooth rottingly sweet, but it is certainly something.

He’s leaning atop the small car’s hood when he hears the delighted call of your friend, eyes trailing upwards from the phone in his hand and a dimpled smile gracing his lips as he watches the two of you walking closer. “I was starting to think you took the wrong plane.” Phone slipped into his pocket, Mingyu pushes himself off the car and begins to walk towards you.

Sooyoung’s arms quickly wrap around his neck as she leaves you to catch her falling suitcase, a short ‘tch’-ing from your lips as she lets go of him and returns to her bag. “We got caught up in customs,” a step forward and you sling your arm around his neck in a quick hug before releasing him, “who knew July was prime tourist time?”

“The perfect reason to have a conference, huh?” He laughs, glancing towards Sooyoung’s and your luggage. “I’m not too sure all of this will fit in the trunk; someone might be stuck with it in the backseat.”

And that’s how you find yourself, head pressed up against the window as the rolling hills of the Italian countryside pass to your left, while a mountain of a collection of both Sooyoung and your baggage peeks into your periphery. Headphone in your right ear, you’d been listening to a podcast on your flight detailing different religions around the world and were continuing on listening to one detailing the festivities of the Roman holiday Saturnalia.

As you listen to how, while a merry tradition, it held underlying themes of human sacrifices and the benevolence/maleficence of the gods, you find yourself slowly nodding off as you press the side of your head against the glass of the window and close your eyes. Not before eyeing Mingyu looking over at Sooyoung with a smile on his face as her attention is rapt upon him. You’d made a bet with him when the three of you had first been acquainted as to just how long it would take him to ask her out. The way they look at each other is something you think only found in movies, it makes you yearn for an affection you don’t quite have in your life. Although you’d lost that bet, as they hadn’t so much as gone on a date, you can tell they’re just too chicken with one another to say anything.

The darkness of sleep quelled when Sooyoung quietly rouses you as she gently shakes your knee with her hand. She’s turned to look at you when your eyes crack open and the golden glow of the afternoon haloes her to make her look even more ethereal.

“Your forehead looks bruised,” a smile, more so caring than anything malevolent, on her lips as she knows how you’d barely slept the entire flight. “Mingyu said we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

A look out the window and you realize that the scenery has shifted significantly, becoming rockier as the sight of the mountain is now far more in view than it was when you’d fallen asleep.

“The house is on the southern end of Vesuvius, it’s actually pretty close to the ruins if you have time to visit while you’re here,” Mingyu notes, knowing how much Roman history had enthralled you in your earlier years of work.

“We’ve got a few days,” Sooyoung ponders as if she’d already planned out her free days at the conference, “I’m sure we can squeeze it in.”

Eventually the car winds its way through some narrow street at the base of the mountain and you come upon a small, rustic looking house. The walls are old, obviously not built in this century, but look well cared for. There is a small walkway leading around the side of the house and you wonder where it’ll take you, but most of your attention is focused on pulling your bags from Mingyu’s car.

“Your room’s the second door on the right after you go up the stairs,” Mingyu says as you make your way to the front door as he was now struggling with the weight of Sooyoung’s bags in his grasp.

After rolling your eyes at him you make your way inside, the dark wooden floors and pale beige walls greeting you rather plainly. There is something elegant about the simplicity, but your attention now lies on not losing your center of balance as you haul your bags up the narrow staircase. You follow his directions and move down the hallway and come to your room, bed made and the last glittering rays of sunlight peek in through the curtains on the singular window above the bed. It’s quaint and homely, something you hadn’t had for a very long time as you think to the dismal apartment you keep London.

You descend the flight of stairs, thankful that you don’t have to tote any more luggage up from the car, and make your way into the kitchen. Perhaps you’d hoped to grab a glass of water, yet your actions halt when you see the figure of and older woman standing at the kitchen counter with several canvas bags in hand. She smiles and gives you a small wave while cheerily saying “Buona serata!”

Returning the gesture with a mumbled “Buona serata,” of your own, you skirt around the edge of the kitchen to grab a glass and pour yourself some water from a nearby pitcher.

“My landlord likes to come over every Friday to cook,” A voice from your right and you glance over and notice Mingyu standing beside you. “She says it’s because her family’s grown up now and she needs someone to care for.” A nod of your head as you watch the older woman unpack her canvas grocery bags, the contents full of things both familiar and foreign.

“Grazie mamma,” Mingyu smiles and walks forward, seeming to want to help his landlord in her cooking ventures. His helpful hands are eventually swatted away, her saying something rapid but you get the gist that she doesn’t need any aid.

“What’s she making?” you ask as you catch sight of Sooyoung walk into the kitchen, almost as pale as a sheet as she makes way over to your side.

There’s a gentle tugging at your shirt as Mingyu questions his landlord. A glance to Sooyoung and she mouths ‘We need to talk’ before getting interrupted with Mingyu saying, “Chicken cacciatore with polenta, I think?” A buzz from his pocket and he looks at his phone, “My roommate’ll join us in a little while. He’s on his way back from a dig and shouldn’t be too long.”

Mingyu hadn’t mentioned his roommate too much, just said they’d met when their team was assembled to scour Site V in the ruins of Pompeii and they’d become fast friends. They’d been living with each other for almost a year now and you can't even recall the name even after Mingyu had probably mentioned it a handful of times when you’d talked over the phone.

“Sounds good,” you smile, tugging at your shirt becoming a little more forceful as the urgency in Sooyoung’s eyes is more prevalent. The landlord says something to Mingyu, and he answers with a nod and leaves the kitchen and heads into the living room. “What is it?” After a moment’s calm you turn to your friend, corners of your mouth turning downwards.

“I left my moisturizer at the hotel in Warsaw,” a gentle tugging again, pleading as she speaks once more, “Can I borrow yours?” The soft strums of a guitar and melancholy vocals of a woman emanating from the room Mingyu had left to go to, the landlord must’ve asked him to put on music.

“Is that what you were so weird about?” A gentle scoff leaving your lips as you nod, “Yeah, it’s in my-”

“I know!” She’s already bounding up the stairs and leaves you with the last of your sentence still in your throat.

“She hasn’t changed much, has she?” Mingyu asks as he reenters the kitchen. His gaze lingers on where Sooyoung once stood, a ghost of a smile noted by his dimples.

“Not one bit.” You note, “But you haven’t either, Mr. Kim. Your head is still stuck on Rome and on her.”

“She’s not-?”

“Dating anyone?” You interrupt at his worried tone, “No. Unless she’s got some hunk back in her lab.” A look of relief on his brow as you take a sip of water, “You know, you really should ask her out. She was excited to see you again.”

“It’s just,” a hum as he pauses to ruminate on his thoughts, “She’s all the way in New York and I’m here for who knows how long. It’d be difficult and I wouldn’t want to put that on a new relationship.”

“If you don’t think she’d pack her bags and move here you’d be lying to yourself,” A shake of your head as the sound of Sooyoung descending the staircase echoes around the small kitchen and brings your conversation to a stop. “It’s also Italy, for God’s sake.”

“I think your roommate’s here,” Sooyoung announces, stating that she’d seen a car pull into the already cozy driveway and turn its headlights off. Almost right as she finishes her sentence the sound of the front door opening catches everyone but the landlord’s attention, as she is too busy cooking and humming along to the music coming from the other room.

It’s funny how the memory of someone can stay so far gone in the depths of your subconscious that you can very well forget about them until they’re standing right in front of you. A fleeting glimpse into who and what you were before you’d blossomed into a more mature adulthood staring at you with eyes equally surprised as your own. A small ‘o’ shape of your mouth mirroring; the tousled hair, button down linen shirt and dust and dirt that clings to his khakis almost pulling you from the anchoring weight of the past. A small smile as he looks to Mingyu, the landlord and Sooyoung before hoisting a bottle of wine in the air, “I didn’t want to come in empty handed for our guests.”

“There he is,” Mingyu nods to the former, “This is my roommate Josh, we’re both partnered up on the same dig team.”

Jisoo. His name is Jisoo. “It’s-” you begin but falter almost immediately, unknowing if your friend is aware of the lingering history between both you and his roommate.

“Nice to meet you,” an interjection from Sooyoung as she nods towards Jisoo, eyes trailing down to the bottle in his hand. “Would you mind if we crack that open now? It’s been a long day.”

Dinner had gone and passed more jovial than you’d thought it would, despite the coldness emanating from Jisoo who sits at the opposite end of the table as you. Fingers fiddling with the fork of your dessert plate, you prod at the panacotta lying half eaten in front of you as your appetite had been sated the moment Jisoo said that it was his favorite dessert.

Maybe he notices the lull in conversation, the sound of crickets chirping rising over the once chattering group, “So where did you and Josh meet?” Attention more turned towards Sooyoung rather than to yourself. Maybe it’s a slight to you but you don’t blame him, it only furthered the aching feeling in your chest as you bring your glass to your lips and drink the fiery vintage.

“We were all three interning together in New York our- what- senior year of college?” Sooyoung muses, lifting her wine glass to her mouth and taking a small sip, twirling the remnants of the local Lacryma Christi wine to aerate it further once she’d finished drinking. “Right?” She looks to Mingyu, who’s toying with another bottle of wine behind the three of you. The small bottle opener in hand, he only replies with a simple ‘Yeah,’ before furrowing his brow and setting back to try and uncork the stubborn bottle.

Elbows on the table as a flushed Jisoo leans in, “Where did you go to school?” He had always held his alcohol well, had something changed since you’d last seen him? Jisoo seems far more tipsy than he should be after two glasses of wine.

“It’s a small all girl’s school you’ve probably never heard of,” A wave of her hand as she sets her glass down onto the wooden table. “What about you?”

“Hamilton,” A glance to you, brief and painful, before he turns back to your friend, “But I also studied abroad in Korea for a little bit too.”

“Ah, you went there too. And you also studied abroad, right?” Sooyoung looks to you, brow raised in question as her index finger circles the top of her glass, inviting a response that you never wanted to give. “Did you know each other?”

“We knew of each other.” The sound of Mingyu pulling the cork from its home resonates around the small kitchen as you speak.

It was a Tuesday night, you’d just started watching Derry Girls and the cooling cycle of your AC unit had just kicked up with its trilling noise when a text on your phone buzzed, the words of the infamous “You up?” blaring across the screen in bold black letters. It was 10:47PM and you had a nine am the next day, you really shouldn’t respond. You could say no, say that you’re tired and want to go to bed instead of fucking your friend for the umpteenth time when he was trying to get over some girl he’d been chasing after on and off for your whole college career. But you didn’t, you wouldn’t ever because there’s that undeniable loneliness you had where human affection is a sought-after substance when you refused to forge the intimate bonds that held a man close to a woman. Or a man to a man. Or woman to a woman. Or to whoever preferred whoever. You aren’t one to judge.

Leaving the text for a moment, maybe two, to ruminate and stew in the Atmos of the unknown you responded saying “Only if you’ve got a bottle with my name on it.” Phone discarded onto your sofa you didn’t move again until he replied that he’d be over soon.

And with that you were off to the races to tidy up, clean bits and wipe of counters and take out the trash as you know he’s either on his way to the store, or already there, to pick up the treasured Cabernet Sauvignon that tasted of regret and unspoken vows the next morning. It was a solemn ritual; you’d drink as he lamented over the girl (half a bottle each), listen to music that both of you liked, he’d tell you the same story of him and his brother getting trapped in a tree as a child (because he obviously hadn’t ever told you this tale before), some film he’d watched once and couldn’t remember playing as the backdrop, and at some point he’d start playing with your hair. Long and slender digits patting, running through and twirling the strands that fell around your face, you weren’t even sure if this was done subconsciously or not. Not that you really cared anyway. Fingertips gently grazing your shoulder in the glow of the tv, then your cheek, then your lips as his hand slipped under your chin and your mouths clash together in a wanton want for something constant. And then you’d have to excuse yourself to the bathroom to make sure you looked a presentable mess in your drunkenness.

Cheeks warmed with the wine trapped inside of you, maybe you’d had a little too much as your hand reached out to steady yourself on the counter as your other moved to brush a few strands of hair from your forehead. Fingers danced over your lips as the fiery feeling of his atop yours hadn’t quite left your system yet, you would laugh at yourself tomorrow for relishing in it but the you of now would soak up this limelight as this was the first time this semester this had happened. You had begun to wonder if it would again before his text tonight. Another look at your phone and it was nearing 1:30, a drowsiness in your system accompanied by the lull of the red had you stifling a yawn behind a hand raised to your mouth.

He’s in your bed by the time you exit the bathroom. Eyes shut and slow breathing as the woes of the world were only that of it spinning greatly on its axis. Conceptual in nature you never sought to feel anything more than just a friendship with him. Sure, it was a friendship that was deeply ingrained in fucking each other to take your mind off whatever was troubling you at the time, but a friendship, nonetheless.

You stood in the glow of the streetlights bleeding in from the outside, a majority of his clothes had been strewn onto the floor, and yours were quick to follow. You were trying to get the damned hooks of your bra to unlatch when you heard him shift behind you.

“Allow me,” a smirk danced along his lips as he noticed you struggling with unlatching your bra. You relented as the palm of his hand landed on your lower back, sliding up leaving behind a trail of warmth. In a simple motion, he was able to unhook it with only one hand.

A short laugh as you shrugged off the garment, throwing it to the littered pile of clothes on the ground. You turned and found his lips, “Love that party trick of yours,” you murmured between kisses. With your right hand you gently pushed him backwards towards the bed.

As the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he fell back, but not before reaching to grab your hands to bring you down with him.

After a few more pecks with your chest flush against his, you sat up, straddling his lap as he chased your lips until he couldn't reach them anymore. Instead, his hands that were entwined with yours released their hold and traveled up your sides, finding anchor on your hips. It was then he began to gently guide your hips to move, you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips or the way your hips instinctively rolled over his painfully hard cock.

“I can feel you through the fabric,” he sighed out breathing heavily, he glanced down to where your bodies almost met, the wetness of your core seeping through the layers of cloth. “Is that all for me?”

“Only for you,” you murmured, knowing it would spur him further. “Just touch me more.”

With a newfound sense of purpose, he did. His right hand raised, his thumb brushed over your breast, his index finger moved as well to play with your hardening nipple. You found yourself shifted to the flat of your back when you let out a moan and he moved himself to hover over you, looking down at his hand gliding over your skin, any feeling of shyness quickly left him. His lips met yours as his hand slid back down your side, the other being used to leverage himself over you.

Something’s said, you’re not sure exactly what as it’s a mixture of words you do and do not understand. Jisoo’s lips lower, to your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts and down to your stomach. His hands find the sides of your hips, his own feet falling to the floor as he drags you to the side of the bed so that your knees and calves dangle over the edge. Fingers tangled through his dark and once coiffed locks as he lowered himself to your core, you couldn’t help but to try and quell your pounding heart.

“Help me with this part?” He asked quietly, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. You obliged willingly, raising your hips to let him slide off the cloth with ease. “Perfect,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

His lips captured your bud and your back arched at the contact, his hands moved away from your breasts and down your sides to the insides of your thighs, gently pushing them apart.

His fingers run along your slick, gathering it as he releases your clit with a small pop before he pushes his index finger inside of you. After a moment, the word, “Move,” left you more enthusiastically than you anticipated. Yet he met your request with fervor, pumping his digit into you while you curled your fingers in his hair, gently tugging at his locks.

“Fuck–!” voice breathy as it leaves you, another finger, his middle, added to your core causing you to relinquish your hold on him to find your hands tangling atop the duvet.

“Do you feel good?” He questions almost teasingly, knowing the answer as you let out a string of words ebbing on profanity and proclamations of your feelings.

“I think– you know the answer–!” You tried to joke before you cried out as he pistons his hand faster, you feel yourself on the precipice of release. It's when he reattached his lips to you clit did the band snap within you and you cried out, your limbs had begun to tremble when he continued his movements, riding out your orgasm until you lightly nudged him away with your knee and he pulled his fingers from you.

“Come here,” you murmur as you sat up, holding your hands out to him as he rose from the edge of the bed to stand between your open legs. Your hands found the sides of his face and pulled him in for a kiss, the taste of you and him intermingling in your mouths. One of your hands slipped away from his face, traveling down his bare chest and towards the hem of his boxers.

“We don’t,” he stopped, lips parting from yours as he searched your eyes, his hand finding yours, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you nodded, head tilting slightly as if to gauge him, “do you not want to?”

“God, fuck,” he sighed under his breath as you caught your lower lip between your teeth, “Of course I do. Do you have a condom?”

“In the side drawer,” you said breathily as he stepped away, quickly fumbled in the dark for a moment before he procured the condom.

And with that he pressed his lips to yours once more and your back hit the mattress. Your teeth clicked together clumsily, but it was forgotten with a small laugh as your fingers traced the elastic of his waistband. He hovered over you, forearm holding up his upper body as he trapped yours within the confines of his knees, his free hand moved to help yours pull down his underwear.

The room was filled with tangible electricity, a palpable anticipation that hung heavy in the air as you both had shed the last remnants of clothing. Your skin tingled with anticipation, every touch sending shivers down your spine.

His lips found yours once more, urgent and hungry, as if trying to convey all the longing and desire that he’d been harboring towards that other girl for months. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

It’s then he pulled back, tearing open the condom’s wrapper and quickly rolling it onto himself. You watched his eager moments in amusement as you sat up, fascinated by how much he was willing to fuck. When he caught you looking, a deeper rooted desire overtook him and he came back to meet you at the side of your bed. Your hand went out to stroke him, but he caught your wrist, gently pushing it back onto the bed.

“Mine,” His breath hot on your skin as he leaned in, pushing you back onto your back, hive raspy tone sent chills shooting from your head to your toes as he aligned himself with you. The breath had been pulled from your throat, when he pushed himself inside. “Please say you’re mine.”

A strangled sort of laugh escaped you, unknowing why he was acting in such a possessive manner. “Just for tonight.”

As your bodies melded together, skin against skin, you lost yourself in the sensation of him, in the overwhelming intensity of your connection. Each touch, each kiss, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you both.

When you looked at him, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hair tousled from your hands running through it, your heart swelled with a feeling as if it were trying to crawl up your throat. The scent of pine and a shiver snaked itself up your spine. He removed his lips from the side of yours, looking down at you like a beholden idol, his hips snapped into you as he'd begun to chase his own high.

There was desperation in his kiss, and you hoped it wasn’t stemming from where you believed it to be. Your eyes screwed shut in abject ecstasy as your peak toppled you off of a high cliff, and it didn’t seem like Jisoo was too far off behind you.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of you. His fingers quickly moved around the condom and he pulled it off before wrapping his hand around himself. He stroked himself a few more times before you felt stripes of heat spurt onto your abdomen.

He stood for a moment, regaining his composure before he excused himself for a moment, returning from the bathroom with a damp washcloth and gently wiped it across your stomach to remove the essence of him. Jisoo then tossed the rag onto the floor and fell next to you on the mattress before wrapping his arm around you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck as your chest still heaved with the sighs and exhalations of pleasure.

The shock that came oh so prevalently to your features when he uttered the cursed “I think I love you” instead of the usual transition into a deep slumber.

Try as you might to steal him away from his yearnings and into the beguiling sin that engrossed you like a funeral shroud you shook your head with a, “No you don’t,” as you raised his hand to your lips and placed a chaste kiss onto his knuckles. A laugh as you were drunk on the spirit and freed inhibitions accompanying the acidic red scouring your veins. “You’re in love with the possibility of something loving and fucking you back.” In truth you weren’t sure if that’s it but repeating it to yourself and vocalizing it sure sounded better than facing your own crippling anxiety of it all.

Tensing under you as the brush of your lips atop his skin left him more flushed than not, “I just confessed to you and you’re telling me that I don’t love you?”

“I am,” a nod of your head as you turned atop the mattress to face him, his breath hot against your face while a confused expression settled into his. “You are far too drunk to be saying things like that and I’m far too drunk to want to accept them,” you reached your hand to caress his cheek before you felt his reach up to gently grasp around your wrist to pull it away.

“Are you saying you’ll love me when you’re sober?” The sensation of rough stubble beginning to emerge from his face still lingering on your fingertips, you closed your hand to staunch the feeling.

Scoff from your lips piercing him like an arrow, “I’ll love you when you start loving yourself over that girl.” The orange slants of lights bleeding in through your blinds from the street below your apartment was the only thing that illuminated the two of you. His hand fell away from your wrist and your hand dropped down onto the small space of mattress that distanced your body from his. “You’re too stupidly handsome to not love yourself.”

Quizzical smile playing on his lips as you felt his eyes peering into yours. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I’m pretty sure ninety nine percent of the population thinks you’re handsome, Jisoo.” A roll of your eyes as you turned onto your back, looking up at your pale ceiling, orange glow still emanating from outside.

“What about the other one percent?” As you moved to place your hand atop your stomach he asked, also moving to look up at the ceiling with you.

He was only the narcissist you knew him to be when you were alone with him. Joshua may have loved his physical appearance but was always critiquing his personality, his interactions with others. “Oh, they actually do think you’re handsome, they just haven’t realized it yet.”

“Can we just stay like this?” Breaths intermingled with the cool air of your apartment as he moved to take your hand in his, warmth emanated from his palms and danced atop his fingertips. “I don’t really feel like-”

“Yeah, of course,” an impending sense of dread ran cold through your once warm veins, an involuntary shiver coursed through you causing him to pull you in closer as he thought that you were just cold. You weren’t, just knew of what’s to come tomorrow.

He was gone by the time you woke up, morning light shining in as you had to hold a hand up to block it from permeating through your eyelids any longer. When your hand ran atop the cool mattress where he was supposed to be, a pang reverberated around your rib cage as you realized he must’ve been absent for some time. Normally after one of these nights the two of you would head to some diner that still sold breakfast around noon while you frantically typed away at an email telling your professor that you’d gotten food poisoning the night before and couldn’t make it to class. Now you were alone and void of the sense of urgency that skipping class tended to put on you.

As if he had impeccable timing, your phone buzzed on your nightstand, a notification detailing that you had several missed calls and unread texts. A sigh from your lips as you reached out to grab the device, swiping it unlocked and reading the last message he’d sent, “Blue @ 2?”

He’d already been seated when you walked into the dingy diner on the outskirts of your college town. Gaudy retro blue interior, a mockup of Elvis at the entrance and the small jukeboxes adorning each table just reminding you of all the times you’d sat in here, hungover and tired. Now you were hungover, tired and anxious. Jisoo was picking at a tray of fries as you slid into the booth, looking up to you as you sat, the vinyl squeaking as you moved atop it, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

There was a gritty, off sounding version of Israel Kamakawiwo'ole’s ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ coming from the little jukebox to your right and you wondered if Joshua had fished out the quarters from his mess of a wallet for it to be playing. He knew it was one of your favorites. “I’m working on my stealth, might just drop out of college and become an international spy at this rate,” You smiled as you shrugged off your jacket.

A nervous smile on his lips, you hadn’t seen that since your freshman year and the whole debacle with that girl had started. Something was on his mind and you knew it would never come out unless you prodded first. Smile on your face faltered as an impending feeling of dread began to surge through you, “What is it?”

“What?” Eyes widening as he shoved a fry in his mouth, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Why did you ask me to come out when I know you’ve got a history or business class right now?”

“A Comprehensive Study of Italian Literature throughout the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.” Another fry eaten, he spoke with his mouth full, “It’s not really something I want to sit through every day. And I wanted to see you.”

“For?”

“Do I have to have a reason for wanting to?”

“You typically do.” A shrug of your shoulders as most of the reasons had been like the incident that spurred last night’s escapade, or to run over notes for an upcoming exam. And that one time where he’d asked you to look after a cat he’d been trying to smuggle into his no pets allowed apartment complex.

Silence as the cogs turn in his head, you can almost see them as he tries to vocalize his thoughts. “It’s about last night.” His hand rests atop the red basket that housed the last of the fries. He lets out a sigh, removing his hand and brushing it atop a nearby napkin, “I mean what I said.”

“Jisoo…” name faltered on your lips as you knew what was to come, “You know I’m not looking for that right now. And what about that girl? Isn’t that why you came over in the first place?” the dynamic shifting between the two of you with every word uttered out of this conversation. It was uncomfortable as you felt yourself pulling away when all he wanted to do is try to get closer to you. An anxiety running through you as your fingers clenched into fists atop your pant leg.

“That's why I came over. I realized I was looking for someone to replace you when all I ever needed was here.” His voice was quiet, calm and an air of shakiness interlaced through it.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I’m not really sure.” Humming as he took a glance out the window, gray clouds sweeping over the once verdant blue of the evening. “Are you really never going to give me a chance?” He still wasn’t looking at you, you weren't sure if he was able to.

It’s blurry now, the rest of that afternoon. It had begun to rain while the two of you sat in that diner, precipitation pelting the sides of the restaurant as you both made a haste escape to your apartment. Clothes littered on the floor as you somehow make your way into your bedroom, kisses both chaste and longing grazing your skin as your hands run through his now messy locks.

You hated how tender Jisoo was, how bittersweet his lips felt on yours as his hands caressed your sides as he pressed himself on top of you. Hated how he melted under you and careened for your touch even if you’d only lifted your hand from his seconds prior. There was a want inside of him that you could feel rearing to break free, but he was holding himself back, he always held himself back. He craved an affection you were unwilling to give, too reluctant to lose yourself to the possibility of him.

This wasn’t a goodbye; it was a plead for you to stay. With your sheets wrapped around you and strayaways of your hair clinging to the sides of your face you tell him to leave, you’re tired and need to get some sleep at some point because you've already missed too many classes. It pained and tormented you to push him away, he was a good friend, a good lover but you never once had the thought that he could hold that guarded place in your heart that had been untouched by anyone. You were afraid that you loved him back.

You hadn’t said a word to him since that afternoon. Nothing from him ever came to you either, the ties had been cut at that meeting and no trying to forage the relationship anew ever came. The two of you grew apart and became separate people, you never looked after him and you had no idea if he looked after you. There was some comfort you gave yourself in never seeking him out, you didn’t have to own up to the fact he existed anymore and that the assholishness of your years prior could remain a secret. But now faced with that undeniable presence of him back in your life you feel as if the pillars holding you aloft are beginning to crumble.

“With the earth is in aphelion we tend to lose ourselves, finding that even though it may be summer and memories of an us no longer presents itself, we question the now and want to return to the past. It’s a captivating notion, isn’t it? Take this time to reflect on yourself and the choices you’ve made to understand who you are now and who you were then.”

Roll of your eyes as the host begins to finish up her spiel of moving forward as it feels all too relating to your current situation. Hand moving to pause the podcast as you hear a gentle knock on your door. You’d finally gotten the back of your dress zippered up on your own after what felt like an eternity of it not budging those last few centimeters. “Come in,” you call out and Sooyoung opens the door right away.

“Are you almost ready?” She asks, looking stunning as ever in a simple sparkly nude dress, the v of the neck gives only little to imagine but she pulls it off with more grace than anyone else you could picture. “Mingyu’s getting the car ready so we should all head out soon.”

“Yeah,” you nod, glancing to the small standing mirror atop the wooden dresser. It wasn’t optimal lighting to pretty yourself up in but you’d dealt with worse.

“What’s aphelion?” She asks as she reaches for the door handle, eyes looking to the now black screen of your phone. “The lady on your podcast was talking about it.”

“It’s the furthest point away the earth is from the sun. We’re actually in it right now.” Musing as you move to toss your phone onto the bed, beside your purse that you’ll be using that night.

“Isn’t it summer though? If we’re at the furthest point, shouldn’t it be winter?”

A shrug of your shoulders as she opens the door, realizing your answer could probably be better recurved via a google search. “I couldn’t tell you,” muttering as you lean over to collect the pair of shoes strewn at your feet.

Sooyoung leaves as you begin to slide your heel into your shoe, once put on you stand for a moment on wobbly legs as you hate the way these events make you dress up for things. You feel like a newborn foal as you tiptoe your way to your purse and then to the door. Cracked open it lets a sliver of light in, then a shadow passing over it as someone walks by. “Sooyoung, did you-” thinking it was your friend returning to her room for something you open the door and look down the hall, only to find the widened eyes of Hong Joshua looking back. The two of you stare at each other, vocalizing internally a conversation that had yet to occur or maybe that had in your dreams. “I thought you were-,” a shake of your head as you wave it off. “I’m going now.”

“After you,” a hand motioning to the stairwell as you brush past him, palpitations thrumming so loudly inside your chest you’re surprised he can’t hear them.

When you get to the car you see that Sooyoung’s already in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone as Mingyu messes with the radio of the car in a feeble attempt to get it working again. You slide into the backseat, your stomach dropping when the other backseat door opens and Jisoo gets in beside you. Never in your life had you wanted to be in a bigger car than you were in now.

It was an uncomfortable ride to the welcome party, Mingyu and Sooyoung made casual small talk whereas the back two seats lay dead silent as you try to cave in on yourself. Jisoo is everything you remember and everything you curse, the scent of his favored Jo Malone cologne soaking into you as you sit in the backseat has you reeling. You don’t even know they made the Amber and Lavender scent anymore. Nor were you aware that he could dress this nicely, he’d only followed the preppy boy trend back in college and at his best you think you could recall him wearing some Ralph Lauren polo to an outdoor event. That was the Jisoo you’d known. Not the dolled-up enigma that sits next to you, his knee lightly knocking into yours as the car moves over the bumpy streets.

You’re not sure which deity to thank as the Hotel Diane is only a twenty-minute venture from the house. Before anyone has the ability to assist you getting out of the car as you roll up to the entrance of the venue, you unbuckle your seatbelt and make a speedy retreat into the bowels of the conference. You can hear Sooyoung calling out after you as you race into the plethora of archeologists, researchers and everything in between. A sigh of relief as you find the restroom, locking yourself into one of the stalls as you try and sate your rapidly beating heart.

It was supposed to have stopped a long time ago, the regret and anguish over him. Yet the flame ignited once more when his eyes had met yours yesterday evening. You barely slept that night and you were plagued by memories the entirety of today. Hong Jisoo is a plague that you don’t want to give up. Or maybe the memory of him is, you know nothing of what became of him after the triste in college had ended and you had gone your separate ways.

“You look like shit,” Sooyoung’s voice hitting you almost as soon as you exit the bathroom, “Not your makeup or anything, that’s fine.” A hand raised as if sensing your aura or to generalize the vibe you were giving off, “Your expression though. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You blink, trying to mask the anxiety riddled through you with a confused façade. “Nothing, I just really had to use the restroom.”

“And it had nothing to do with the handsome man sitting in the backseat with you?” She poses as the two of you begin to walk through the atrium, sliding past other partygoers. As you near a catering staff member holding a tray of drinks, Sooyoung reaches out and plucks one off of the tray and hands it to you before getting one for herself, “You’ve been acting weird since last night.”

A sigh as you bring the glass to your lips, drinking as you stride forward into the main gala, a large room adjacent to the main atrium. “Seeing him just reminded me of school, is all,” It isn’t a complete lie, just not the wholehearted truth either.

It seems as if everyone’s begun to be ushered into the main hall, the lights of the stage in the back of the room brightening as an older man walks up, a handful of notecards in his grasp. Doors shut behind the last of the stragglers, the gravelly voice of the man begins to welcome everyone to the annual conference and how it was such a treat to hold it in a historic place. The lights of the room dimming to draw attention towards the stage, you find yourself lost in drink as he speaks, eyes wandering the crowds as you catch Joshua looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite put a name to. It only made you drink more, swapping out your now empty glass with a new one from a server’s tray nearby.

The speech drags on for another five minutes or so, detailing the events of the weekend. The words tuned out as you feel the burn of alcohol down your esophagus. When the speech is done and the lights brought up, you and Sooyoung make a round around the room, chatting with several acquaintances from conferences and events prior and greeting any new faces you come across.

“How’s your new exhibition in London going?” A voice asks as you turn to your left, “I hope everything got there safely?”

Turning to now greet a familiar face, “Of course it did, Seungcheol. No thanks to you, of course.” Mischievous smile flashing as Sooyoung leaves your side to wander over to a group of Mingyu’s cohorts. “I’m surprised you lent us your exhibit on such short notice, it’s only been up for a few days but luckily enough I was there to see the inaugural showcase. It’s absolutely phenomenal, by the way.”

Smile now coating his features, “I’m glad it worked out. And anything for an old friend.” He takes a sip out of the glass in his hand, glancing around the room for a moment as if to observe the atmosphere. “It seems busier than usual, doesn’t it? I hear it’s largely in part due to the handful of new teams they’ve set up in the area.”

“Well, typically these are held in stuffy new cities, can’t blame the attendance for being higher here.” You note as you look over the faces of the other patrons. “St. Louis wasn’t all that exciting, was it?”

“Learning about Cahokia was, though.” He notes with a raised brow and turns his attention back to you. “I saw you come in with Mingyu, do you know him?”

“We interned at the Smithsonian and went to grad school together; do you know him?”

“I met him the other day when a few of us early birds were able to get a behind the scenes tour of sector V. I actually know his teammate Joshua, I saw you come in before them so I’m assuming you know him as well?” Seungcheol questions as he scans the crowd for the sight of the taller looming above everyone else.

“Only a little bit,” You lie as the varnish of perceived reality begins to chip away, bit by bit, “I’d say I’m better acquainted with Mingyu really.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. He’s a bright kid, if you ever get to know him, was a great help when our junior archivist was out of town for a while…” You hope he can’t see the painted smile on your face as he speaks again, “Have you met any of their teammates? It really is an eclectic bunch.”

“I haven’t actually, I think Sooyoung’s talking with them now.” Peering back to see Sooyoung laughing at something Mingyu was saying, “I should probably introduce myself.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, I’ve got an archivist and an architect to track down somewhere around here. It was nice seeing you again,” He gives you a short nod before heading off into the masses.

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Sooyoung’s hand that isn’t occupied with a wine glass slips around your waist as you approach the group. “I was just telling them how you managed to snag the Gohyang exhibit, not that they really care. They’re all archaeology nuts.”

“I take it I don’t need to introduce myself then?” Shooting Sooyoung a short glare before looking to the handful of people surrounding you, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Nice to meet you too,” A voice speaks up and a hand raises to meet yours as Sooyoung’s grip around your waist is lost. “I’m Minghao, the site supervisor, kind of in charge of these guys.”

Another voice beside him, “Don’t let him act all high and mighty about it, it’s just because our real team leader broke his wrist skiing and is on leave for the next two weeks.” Different hand to shake, “I’m Seulgi. I work in forensics.”

“And you already know Mingyu and Joshua, they’re pretty much our main diggers,” Minghao notes and looks to Mingyu, “Where is he by the way? Didn’t you two come together?”

Humming as Mingyu’s eyes scan the crowd, “I’m not sure, he might’ve ducked out to get some fresh air. You know how he gets.” Unable to find him, his attention returns to the group, glancing over at you, “Was he always this weird at events?”

“Do you know him?” Seulgi's voice interrupts before you’re able to speak, pulling your attention away from your friend and to her.

“I-”

Once again interrupted, this time by Sooyoung. “She actually went to school with him. Small world, isn’t it?”

“Not so much in this field,” Minghao muses, something wistful in his tone, “We all come across each other at some point.”

“You’re still not going to get over that Russian tomb raider, are you?” Seulgi sighs, attention focusing back to you. “But was he? He’s always happy at the dig site but whenever we come to these sorts of events, he gets all quiet and taciturn. It’s like he’s looking for someone who’s never really going to show up.”

“That’s uh- Oddly specific.” Uttering under your breath, uncomfortable at the turn of events and barrage of questions being thrown at you. “And I really didn’t know him that well.”

“Ah come on,” Sooyoung’s voice slurs ever so slightly as you take a sip of your drink. “I can hardly believe you went to a small school in the middle of BFE, go on a study abroad trip with him and didn’t talk to him.”

Pressure building as if you’re a kettle with nowhere to expunge the steam rapidly rising inside of you. You’re a trapped animal, cornered in a room of vicious predators.

A nervous, shaky laugh escapes you, and before you can stop yourself, the words start tumbling out. “I mean we were classmates and we knew each other- We were kind of friends and more, but it wasn’t supposed to be serious, you know? I needed to focus on my studies, on my career. I wasn’t ready for anything more, and I told him that, but he just… he wanted more. But it didn’t make sense because he was in love with someone else, always talking about her like she was the one, and I felt like… like he was just using me to fill some void or get over her or something. And I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did, and now—”

Your voice cracks, the guilt and confusion spilling over as you realize how loud and rambling you’ve become thanks to the alcohol that not only lessened your anxiety but loosened your tongue. The group falls into an uncomfortable silence, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. You can feel the burn of a gaze on the back of your neck, and when you turn, there he is—Jisoo, staring at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and something else you can’t quite place.

Smile instantly dropping into a grimace, a mumbling of “Oh shit,” as he brushes past you without so much as a glance, wine stem threatening to break under the stress you now exude from your fingers. A pit dropping in your stomach as the reality of your words and the carelessness of your actions only sought to further dredge you from the comfort of your mind and into the abysmal present.

"I'm so sorry," you apologize with wide eyes to the group. A guilty being inside of you chases after him, the clacking of your shoes atop the marble floor echoing around the space yet muffled by the number of people that you’d outright embarrassed him in front of. Not that they’d all heard, only the ones that matter to him. You set the wine glass in your hand atop a small table before you exit, only after downing the last of the liquid that remained, hoping the warmth of your cheeks is more so from the wine than your mortification. You need liquid courage, yet if you consume any more, you’re unsure what other vile secrets may come tumbling from your lips.

Jisoo’s standing in the atrium of the building when you find him, tie loosened from his neck as if it had sought to choke out every last word from his mouth. You approach with a slowing velocity, unsure how to reintroduce yourself after the disaster of an evening. Another calamity incurred by a slip of the tongue and careless action by you, unlike your past self now this blinding awareness overtook you and a tremendous amount of guilt found itself weighing you down.

“I’m not good with words, I never have been.” A hand had run through his hair as he looked far too more shaken now than he had in the moments prior. Footsteps atop tile as he paces the space, a statue of some Roman deity or emperor looking down upon the two of you as if it meant to judge your sins. “I’ve tried so goddamned hard to forget about this and you just think it’s okay to waltz right back into my life and make it all some sort of fantastical joke?” You feel as if you were a child being scolded by a parent rather than whatever you would define your relationship with Joshua now. If there even was one to define. Eyes trailing the floor as the sternness in his voice was reason enough for you to never want to make eye contact with him again, your blood was hot, and you were warm with repentance. “You broke my heart, what makes you think that you have the right to come back?”

“If you want me to say I’m an asshole I can, the largest of assholes who was too stupid and vain to think of anyone but myself. That was a total lie back there I don’t even know why I said it.” You feel slovenly with the way the words fight their way out of you as you apologize for the immoralities of a time long past, “Jisoo,” he winces at the name, your sure no one’s called him that in some time, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sorry for much more than the scene you’d just caused.

“Did you really never care about me?” The pain in his voice renders you from the present and into the past where he’d found you hidden away in some closet at a fraternity party. Your arms slung around the neck of someone you’d only met a handful of times before then, focus breaking when the door opens, and streams of blinking led lights from the party outside flooded into the dark space. It had taken you a moment to recognize the large silhouette in the doorway, shadow casting onto the two of you locked into a crude embrace. Blinking you return to the hardened stare he gives you now, reminiscent of that you saw in his eyes that day. “You fucked my friend and didn’t think anything of it.”

“We hadn’t spoken in months! I wasn’t obligated to pine over you when we’d practically become strangers.” Yet you had. This hallowed feeling had plagued you for months following that night, you’d remembered it the morning after and had an apology text written that you never found the courage to send. It sat on your phone screen for longer than you would have liked it to, but that’s what it did, sat and collected virtual dust while you found solace in finding use in other men to take your mind off of him.

Eyes finding comfort in the statue above, you wait for the words trapped inside of his chest like a caged beast to be wrought upon you as he had probably wished to do since the last you’d seen him. They never come. No floods or wrath or hellfire fury wrung out for you to find. Just silence as the gentle chatter from the ballroom down the hall faintly ambling as the backdrop to your tragedy.

“If I had known it was you, I wouldn’t have come.” Spare him from this detriment of character. Scared. You were scared and that’s why you’d not spoken to him since that rainy afternoon. He’d said something before he left but you were too busy trying to keep yourself together to remember what he’d uttered. In his absence you’d try to remember, but it all proved fruitless and you perhaps had lost one of your truest friends that day. “Didn’t Mingyu tell you we were coming?”

Hands in his pockets, gaze racked onto something painted onto the domed ceiling of the atrium. “He did.” Breaking your gaze from the statue you look to him, quizzical brow already set atop your features.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Voice quiet, you feel the alcohol tunneling your vision and pulsing through your fingertips.

“To see if you’ve changed, to see if you’re still vehemently against my happiness.” Eyes turned to you as a frown adorns his lips. You’d never felt such seriousness come from him, it made you feel even more a cornered animal than you’d been in the ballroom. “It’s obvious that you are though, I should’ve expected as much.”

“Vehemently against your-? What the hell are you talking about Jisoo?”

“You never wanted me to be happy!” Hands flying out of his pockets as they move to gesticulate a feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend. “Every time I tried to move towards you, you always pushed me away. I tried to accept and understand that, but you let me into your arms on more occasions than I can count on my two hands. If you really didn’t want me then why did you continue to let me in like that?”

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor! I was taking your mind off of that girl! You never wanted me, or I was too stupid to see that you actually did because you talked about her all of the fucking time!” Voice raising as you continued, a fire boiling in your blood that you hadn’t realized had been only simmering for the past eternity. “It took too long for me to realize that I loved you back.” You were in love with him. You are in love with him and now you’ve gone and ruined any chance you had at reconciliation again. It’s as if some Austenian novel was taking place yet it was far too real and far too raw for it to be anything as romantic or gothic as such.

“Loved me back,” a bark from the back of his throat, a laugh of incredulity as the damnation in his gaze is ever so present, he didn’t believe you and he had every right not to. “You know, I thought about what I would say to you if I saw you again,” Leaning back so his weight now lay on the base of the statue, “I wrote out countless scenarios, questioning why you never reached out. Why I never tried to either. I was so, so angry at you and now I’m just tired.” Frown as he looks to the floor, the fire once bright behind his eyes simmering into a broken flame, “I can’t be too upset; I was as much an ass as you back then for not wanting to respect your wishes. But if I had loved you any less, I might just hate you now.”

A moment’s pause to reiterate what he’d said in your mind, the alcohol running rampant you take a few deep breaths in hope you’d heard what he admitted correctly. ‘Loved you any less,’ sounded like he certainly didn’t despise the essence of your being but with the way he’d acted prior to tonight made it seem as if you were a ghost to him. “Are you saying you don’t hate me?”

“I’m saying I’m old enough to realize that we both had our faults.” Gaze still trailing the veins of marble in the floor, “I used you as an emotional coping mechanism for the longest time before actually realizing I liked you. I didn’t even talk to her that last night, I just wanted to come over to be with you. But you,” Lower lip bitten as he nods his head, “I was never able to figure you out.”

Humbling as this whole situation is you’re finding it harder to stay upright, you move to stand next to him and motion to the bit of statue base beside him. He nods and scoots over enough to allow you enough space to lean alongside him. Warmth from where he once was lingering on your back, you let a sigh loose from your lips, “I was too selfish, I said I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, but I was just scared.” Foot tapping against the floor as the gentle reverberations echo around the room, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I didn’t even sleep with your friend, I left soon after you did.”

Mouth parted to say something more, it never happens as the door to the main hall opens and Mingyu emerges, quickly moving to the two of you. “Would you mind if we head back a little early? Sooyoung’s a little, no, super drunk and I don’t want her to say anything embarrassing. Well, anything more embarrassing.”

Knowing how your friend got seemed to momentarily distract and sober you, a look to Joshua and then to Mingyu you nod your head, “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t either,” Jisoo agrees and then opens his palm for Mingyu to throw him the car keys, “You get her and I’ll pull the car around.”

Gentle breathing as the warmth of another lying next to you in bed rouses you from slumber. Light peeking in from the window overhead as you shift, the fragrance of a rose scented shampoo greeting you. “Sooyoung,” a grumbling from your lips as you hadn’t realized that she’d snuck into your bed during the night, she was a clingy, cuddly drunk that you were normally never one to accommodate. But last night had been different, you barely remember the ride home as you’d been in and out of slumber. Joshua had driven while you took the passenger seat, Sooyoung’s head atop Mingyu’s lap as she gently snored away, finding sleep a much better accompaniment than drunkenness in a moving car.

“Five more minutes,” a murmur from her as she pulls the blankets closer to her chest, “I think I’m still drunk.”

“Want to trade,” a hand moving to your forehead as you sit up, waves of nausea rolling like an unbearable tide through your system. “I need a Powerade and a nap. Do they have Powerade here?”

“Pedialyte maybe,” Sooyoung says, sounding more awake as the covers fall away as she sits up. She ponders for a moment, sleep in her eyes as she stares down at the white duvet. A yawn escaping her as she turns to you, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Hand running through your knotted locks, looking over to your similarly disgruntled friend.

“Oh, you know, the stock market.” Retort scoffing from her, “I’m talking about whatever the fuck happened last night between you and Joshua.”

Maybe you’d thought it all a dream, the argument and your drunken folly. Yet presented to you again you couldn’t help but acknowledge it, “I said something stupid and I apologized to him.” More than that you’d unthinkingly confessed you liked him eons too late, but you could blame that on your inebriation, although you’re not sure what he’d say. You’re not sure you saw him have a sip of anything at all last night.

“Seemed like a little more than that,” Shoulders shrugging as she moves to slide out of your bed and walk over to the small vanity. “When he was carrying you inside you were all over him, apologizing about something.”

“I what?” Eyebrows raising as you feel the familiar flush of embarrassment creep along your spine. “You must’ve been seeing things there’s no way in hell he’d do that.”

“-Even made sure to bring you some water,” you hadn’t realized she’d been continuing. “I can’t really remember much else though.” The sound of acute popping as she stretches her arms, “I’m going back to bed, wake me up if anything important happens, okay?”

A shake of your head as you usher her out to leave, an icy feeling running from your head to your toes as you think you’d rather stay in this room the entirety of your stay than face whatever was beyond the door. When you do get that confidence to venture out, as you didn’t hear anyone trapezing about the house, you try and quietly amble down the stairs as to not wake your slumbering friend a few doors down. Pounding in your head you make way to the kitchen to rummage around for an aspirin or five to rid yourself of the aftermath of indulgence. Quiet, “Shit,” escaping you as there’s nothing to be found, only water and tea. So, when Jisoo finds you sitting alone at the kitchen table, water glass in hand as your head is pressed gently to the rough wooden surface, he can surmise you’re probably not feeling your best. You hadn’t even heard the front door open, nor had you guessed he’d be dressed up in business attire once again. Another jarring thing to add to your morning.

“I figured you wouldn’t be feeling great,” His voice soft as if not to disrupt the cosmos, “I brought you and Sooyoung some espresso. It won’t cure your hangover, but it’ll wake you up.” The sound of a cup hitting the tabletop and you look up to see it sitting in front of you. The shift in his attitude over the course of the last two days all too paradoxical and overwhelming for you to think of right now. Your hand reaching forward to grasp the paper cup in your hands and slowly bring it to your face.

A sip taken and you sit up, “Thank you.” Finger running over the small hole atop the lid, “Sooyoung’s still asleep. I’m not sure when she’ll be up again.” Jisoo responds with a slight nod of his head, not furthering the conversation as it seems he’s lost in thought. “Where’s Mingyu?”

“At the conference,” It takes him a moment to respond, “I ducked out early to make sure you both were doing okay. He also wanted to know if the both of you wanted to check out the ruins today. It’s going to be crowded but we can sneak our way through without too much hassle.”

“I think we’d both be up for it after a little more sleep if that’s alright?” The scent of the espresso finally hitting you, it was good but didn’t sate the anxious butterflies floating around your stomach.

“That’s fine, you can go and get some sleep, Mingyu’s not supposed to be back for another couple of hours.”

“It’s quite sad, isn’t it?” Walking through the ancient and weathered streets of Pompeii felt more as if you were walking through a graveyard rather than a place frozen in time. In a way it is a graveyard, yet most came to ogle at the plastered bodies of the deceased than appreciate the ability to see how the people once lived and thrived. You stand now, with Mingyu and Sooyoung, Jisoo standing some feet back as you gaze at one of the faded frescoes from antiquity.

“Sad, yes. Tragic? Absolutely.” Mingyu says as he takes a few steps further into the atrium of the household, towards the small, empty impluvium that sat in its center. “But in a way it’s kind of happy too, don’t you think? It’s a city lost in time but we’re slowly uncovering the past and its people.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got a room like this in the MoMA,” Sooyoung says, looking down to the little guidebook in her hand.

“That’s actually from a villa outside of the city,” Mingyu interjects, “It’s preserved beautifully.” They share a look and you turn away, not wanting to impede on their moment.

Instead, your attention turns to Jisoo, who’s walking through the doorway and out into the street, lip bitten you contemplate following after him since you hadn’t really spoken to him since that morning and a plethora of questions are running around your head. You excuse yourself from the other two, not that they would’ve noticed as it seems they were in deep conversation, and head out into the increasingly overcast afternoon. “I don’t want to sound weird but what exactly did I say to you when we came back here last night?” Voice calling out to Jisoo as he reads something carved into a slate of marble beside the house. Standing atop the steppingstones that dotted the antique streets so that you could get a better look at him. “I can’t really remember and it’s been eating me alive all day.”

Hum from his lips as he glances to the cloudy sky and then to you, “You did say something about being ‘the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass,’ was that Shakespeare?” There’s a slight smile to his lips and you feel your stomach doing cartwheels. “You said it at least ten times.” He strides over, not needing to take many steps since his gait is that of a giraffe’s.

“Austen, actually.” Words coming out in almost a whisper as the two of you stand in silence. Birds cawing overhead and the buzz of nearby tourists as you don’t know what to say next.

“For someone who was never a romantic, you sure as hell indulge in romantic things,” casual musing and he moves his hands into his pockets. The air smelled of sun-dried dirt and salt envelops you, even with the clouds above the harshness of the sun felt ever so present on your back.

“I’m sorry,” words escaping you, “I-”

“You’ve already apologized more in a weekend than I could’ve hoped for in my entire life,” A shake of his head as he raises a hand to stop you. Tongue swiping his lower lip, “You know, I thought I was supposed to be angry when I saw you again, but when I saw you standing in the house after all this time, I was more happy than not?” Laugh escaping him, “Maybe I’m crazy.”

“I was too,” in a strange way you had been. The anxiety had been there, of course, yet there was an undeniable elation at seeing him. Flicker of a smile coming over you, “Maybe we’re both crazy.”

“Mingyu’s said you’ve climbed up in your career pretty fast,” A nod of his head, “I’d love for you to tell me more about it if you’ve got time to grab dinner while you’re here?”

“It’s not like we’re housemates for the week or anything,” You smile, “I’d really like that.”

When he takes your hand and doesn’t let it go after you’ve exited his car, that’s when you start to think, finally, his resentment towards you had begun to fade. When he holds the door open and pulls your chair out for you at the restaurant, is when your heart starts thrumming. When he pays the tab but you go out for an hour or two longer talking, reminiscing, and catching up is when you feel like you can look at him without any semblance of regret or shame. When his hand lingers atop yours while he tells you a story about an extravagant find in Site V is when you can’t wipe the smile from your lips and the euphoria from your chest.

“So, other than becoming a wildly prolific curator, what else have you been up to?” Hand moving away from yours as he leans back in the small wooden chair. The dim lights of the restaurant casting soft shadows across his features.

“I play tennis on the weekends, I’ve also got a cat back home but she’s kind of an asshole,” you laugh, returning your hand to your lap. “But what about you? I always thought you’d go into curation, never saw you as the archeologist type.”

“To be honest I thought it’d be like Indiana Jones, but I think the movies overexaggerated his job a little bit,” the joke playing gaily in his eyes as he shoots you a small smile. “But I might look into a museum job when I get older, it’s just too much fun being out in the field right now. I didn’t enjoy archiving as much as this.”

“I get that,” agreeing as you reach for your water, taking a sip before placing it back onto the table. “So, did you and that girl ever work out?”

“That girl,” Joshua pauses, “You know she has a name, right?”

“Of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever called her by it.” Lips pursed as your finger plays with the condensation on the glass.

“What did you call her? An anglophile or something?”

“She always had that stupid union jack jacket on, it was like she was trying to be a wannabe Beatle,” it wasn’t a bad jacket. You realize now that it had probably been jealousy that coined the title.

A short laugh, “I remember that. But no, we never ended up together. I’m really only dating one person right now.”

Brow furrowing, had you gotten this whole night misconstrued? “Oh really? Who is it?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. We kind of found him halfway under a rock a few years back and have been trying to piece him and his story together ever since.” Eyes widening as he tells you the tale, “He’s at least nineteen hundred years old so I don’t think it’ll work out between us though.”

“You’re an asshole,” scoffing as you roll your eyes at him. In all honesty you were a little relieved he’d only been joking.

The two of you slowly begin to realize the lateness of the hour, the moon hanging high as you exit the bar with warm faces and hints of smiles lingering on your lips. There is a coolness in the air that hadn’t been present when you’d entered, it wasn’t cool enough to make you shiver but it feels pleasant as it runs over your skin. The drive home is filled with aimless chatter, it just feels comfortable to be back on good terms with him and feel his presence once more in your life.

Not too long after you arrive to the house, you find your friends absent. Checking your phone, you see they’ve gone off to watch a film and wouldn’t be back for another hour or two. You sit on the plush, green velveteen sofa of the living room as Jisoo saunters in with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. “I’m shocked at the amount of wine everywhere, I feel like if I stuck a spigot into the ground it’d be wine that comes out instead of water.”

“The Italians love their aperitifs and their wine,” Jisoo says as he pours out two glasses and hands you one. The TV turned onto a channel playing a movie you know but dubbed in Italian, you watch for a moment before feeling the brush of a hand atop your shoulder. Turning to look, you see Joshua’s head tilted to the side as his fingers dance along your shoulder.

“Can you tell me if I’m being too presumptuous?” A nod of your head as his fingers begin to absentmindedly play with a few strands of your hair, “But I don’t think my feelings about you changed all too much since I told you I loved you. And I understand if you don’t want to accept me again because it’s been too long, and we’ve grown apart but-”

Jisoo’s ramblings are cut short when you lean forward and place a kiss on his lips. It isn't your first kiss with him, nor was it his with youu. Although it was your first kiss with him that you wholly put intention behind as you’d never allowed it before because it had called for an intensified intimacy, you’d been scared to assign yourself to such a concept. Yet now you feel as if you were ready, “I love you too.”

Pulling your face away from him, the stars of disbelief shine in his eyes as the glow of the TV lights illuminate the smile on his lips. He looks relieved, sated and gleeful, a cornucopia of feelings that were unobtainable so long ago. Without another word you settle into each other, your head upon his chest as his hands run absentmindedly through your hair, the staticky nature of the television and sounds of a summer night outside lulling you both to sleep. It’s difficult to explain the situation to your friends that walk in an hour and a half later, startling the two of you awake as they come upon you. Their hands interlocked with each other, you shoot Mingyu a look to which he avoids, Sooyoung only winks and looks down to your hand which you find covered by Jisoo’s. It’s a silent act of solidarity, just a casual acceptance of what time had spurned as the night trudges onwards and you return to his side as the other two make their way upstairs.

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo fluff #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua smut #joshua fluff #joshua angst

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cctiling · 2 years

Link

These tiles have been around since the 19th Century, and they’re currently seeing a big boom in popularity. They’re versatile and they come in a great range of patterns and colours. The only downside is that they are a pain to lay, so you need to contact an experienced tiling company.

#Tiling companies #Tiling #Tilers #Tiling Central London #Tiling Chelsea

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animeniacss · 2 months

Note

hii

okay so my request is an angsty mingyu drabble. they have to break up because oc accepts a job offer on the other side of the world. so she basically chooses her career over mingyu

Thank you for waiting my love I'm so sorry but I hope you like the finished product! <3

Synopsis: You're taking a new job offer in another country, and Mingyu does not take it very well.

Tags: NonIdol!AU, Angst, Flasbacks, Established Relationship

Length: approx. 2.6k words

Mingyu x Reader - One-Way

The airport was bustling when you made it through baggage claim, with people running to and from the gates hoping to make it where they needed to before the next flight took off. When you saw your gate, you felt your pace slow, ultimately stopping as you felt your rolling suitcase knock against the back of your leg.

When your neck craned up to the sign entering the gate, you inhaled a deep breath.

Seoul (ICN) - London (LHR) - Boarding in 15 minutes.

You checked the boarding pass that you kept up on your phone for the past week. The gates and flight numbers matched the sign, thank goodness. With the final check complete, your eyes lifted to the corner of the pass.

One-Way

At the end of the last quarter, you were offered a massive promotion by your Boss to celebrate your hard work. You were thrilled! All of those hours spent slaving over your computer screen, covering exhausted bags under your eyes, and sitting through hours of meetings that made jumping out a window seem more exciting had finally paid off! There was just one catch.

The new job was managing the latest branch of the company. In London. Overseas.

“It’s a lot to consider. Please, take some time to think everything over. I need to give them an answer by the end of the month.” Your boss had said to you.

You took that entire month to think about it, contemplating it with everyone you knew. Everyone you’d ultimately be leaving behind. Every one, though sad, gave very similar responses.

“I’m so happy for you!” Cried your mother.

“That’s an incredible opportunity!” Said your coworkers.

“I’ll miss you so much but you can’t turn that down!” your brother insisted.

“I needed a reason to visit London anyway!” said your best friend said cheekily.

You sat down on one of the chairs, watching as people passed by, heading in every direction to get to their destination. Suitcases rolled against the tile, families shouted at each other to encourage the herd to move faster, and people panicked as they tried to find their gate. The hecticness of your surroundings was enough to calm your mind because the more you thought about people's reactions to your departure, the more one specific person’s voice kept trying to wiggle its way to the forefront of your mind. When it did, you simply closed your eyes and rubbed your temples.

The plane was going to board in 15 minutes. You couldn’t.

Hoping to distract yourself, you made your way to a nearby convenience store in the airport, grabbing a few snacks for the long plane ride and a coffee. You began pacing right by your gate, your carry-on perched on the nearest chair. Hopefully, moving will pass the time and keep you calm. The longer those fifteen minutes drudged on, the more you felt the nerves bubbling in your chest. Taking a long sip of your coffee, you looked up at the sign by the boarding entrance.

Ten minutes.

A deep inhale, another sip of coffee, and a mental promise that this was the right choice.

Just as you were going to sit back down, you thought you heard something from within the airport. You turned, scanning the packed area for who could possibly be calling your name. It sounded distant, yet familiar enough to make you shiver. When you didn’t immediately clock anyone, you turned back towards the gate, and wondered if you were just tired.

Your name was called again, louder this time. Feeling your heart rate spike, you immediately recognized the voice and turned towards it. As you did, you saw a familiar face towering over the rest of the confused travelers as he headed in your direction.

“Mingyu?” You stood up, the action alone immediately catching his attention. His eyes widened, pace quickened. You watched as he politely tried to worm through crowds and lines, hoping to not disturb those trying to get to their own destinations. Despite this, you could see the fire in his eyes to get to you.

It caused an ache in your heart you hadn’t felt since you told Mingyu about this entire trip in the first place. This was the voice you were hoping not to hear before boarding. Your lips dipped into a frown as the image of MIngyu’s wide stunned eyes stared at you from across your dining room table, a similar look on panic as the ones approaching your now.

“....You’re moving to London?”

“Fuck..” you gasped under your breath.

MIngyu finally made it to you, and before you could ask what he was doing in the airport ten minutes before your flight, he pulled you into a tight hug. Your arms immediately locked around him; impulsive in its movement. A second nature to you. The both of you stood in silence for a long moment, and for a second you thought you’d missed your flight with how much time it felt had passed.

“Yeah, I got a new job opportunity.”

Mingyu watched as you got up from your chair, heading to the fridge for a drink. His eyes followed you. “And you took it?”

You turned to him. “Well, I haven’t confirmed anything yet…but I think I might.”

Mingyu shook his head as if he had misheard you. “Jagiya, when did you get told this?”

“Maybe…a week ago?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, releasing Mingyu before the rest of the memory continued in your mind. “...What are you doing here?” You whispered into his chest.

Mingyu pulled back, looking down at you. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving today,” he said softly.

You knew the answer. If Mingyu knew today was the day you were leaving, he would have come with the intent to keep you from boarding the plane.

“...I didn’t think you’d want to.” You ultimately said, and the rest of your last conversation with Mingyu kept playing like a painful tape recording.

“And you didn’t tell me until now?” Mingyu was now up from his chair.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure what I would do! I didn’t tell anyone yet!” You turned to him. “I wanted to tell you first.”

Mingyu’s body relaxed, but he was still guarded. You could see it in how his eyes scanned your features. “But this is how you tell me?”

“How else do you expect me to tell you?” You asked curiously. Mingyu’s eyes cast down as he thought for a minute. “Mingyu, hon, I tried to think of what to say and how, but I don’t know how else to-.”

“Don’t go.”

Your eyes looked up to Mingyu as the sound of an airplane landing brought you back to reality. “What?” you asked.

“Don’t go.” Mingyu said. “I told you already, don’t go.”

“Mingyu….Did you just come here to try and convince me not to go again?”

“No, I just…” he gripped your hands. “I tried not to come but didn’t know what else to do.”

You could hear the hurt in the way he spoke to you, the way he grabbed your hands. You could feel the trembling in his hands. “Mingyu…” you said softly.

“Mingyu, you can’t-.”

“Please don’t go.” He repeated, firmer this time. “I’m begging you, please.”

“But, I…but this is an opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Why can’t that opportunity be here? With me?” You watched him walk over to you, closing the distance and bringing you close to him. Almost as if he could close any distance between the two of you with a simple, tight embrace. “London’s so far away….”

“I know…” You said.

You could still see the determination in his eyes, eager to make you stay. Mingyu was usually pretty docile; easy going in your relationship. This side of him was uncommon. “Is it money?”

“Huh?”

“Is it money?” he asked. “I don’t have much but I’ll make double, triple of what you’ll make if it means you’ll stay.”

“No, please don’t say that.” You could feel his hands tighten around yours. “Mingyu, please.”

“Mingyu, please….” you said softly, reaching up to run a hand in his hair, hoping to soothe him. “Look at me.”

Mingyu looked at you just as an announcement blared overhead.

Flight 220 to London is boarding in five minutes. Please have your boarding pass ready and make sure you have all of your luggage.

“So this is really it?” Mingyu asked softly. You looked at him. You could see tears brimming in his eyes. “Really?”

“Ah.” Finally, you felt your own eyes get heavy, tears stinging in the back of them desperate to fall. But the minute one did you’d be back in his arms and heading towards the nearest airport exit. Mingyu’s features softened, and he rubbed his cheeks.

“Ah, I’m being selfish.”

“You’re being selfish!” You shouted, and the room finally went quiet. Mingyu’s eyes widened, mouth opening despite no words wanting to come out. He seemed to realize, as his eyes dipped down to the floor, that he was in fact being selfish. Asking you to turn down the opportunity of a lifetime, just for him.

Not that you hadn’t thought about it. Millions of sleepless nights and tear-stained pillows as you reminded yourself that while your opportunities were in London, your future was staying behind in Korea.

Mingyu shook his head. “....Is this absolutely, one hundred percent what you want?” he asked.

You were silent for a minute, knowing that once this answer left your lips, there’d be no going back.

“...Yes.” You said. “I want to take this opportunity while I can….”

Mingyu’s eyes brimmed with more tears as he looked away from you, but he quickly swallowed them deep into his stomach before exhaling out a soft, “...Okay…”

“Okay.” Mingyu said. “You should…board your plane.”

“Mingyu.” You wiped your eyes, but Mingyu reached out and brushed yoru hand away so he could do it himself. You could see that he was trying to stay strong, the last of his fighting disappearing when he staggered out of your apartment in a daze the night you told him. The last night until now that you had heard from him.

“Just tell me you’ll keep in touch.” he said softly. You chuckled.

“Sure.” you said. “....Of course.” Mingyu nodded.

“I’m sorry.” he said. “That I was selfish. It’s an amazing opportunity,” he said. Mingyu rubbed his hand on his pants. “I just…I wish I could be a part of it….”

MIngyu had suggested a long-distance relationship in his frantic attempt to keep you in his orbit, but your response now was the same as it was then.

“That would be more painful for the both of us and you know it.”

Mingyu nodded his head, seeming to recoil at the repeat statement. “Right…”

When you saw people at your gate start lining up, you grabbed your luggage and rubbed your eyes one last time. “Have a safe flight.” Mingyu said.

You nodded. “Thanks.” you strained. Mingyu’s eyes flickered with a second of uncertainty, and you didn’t have a lot of time before he leaned in and kissed you, arms tight on your waist. You kissed him back.

His last attempt to make you stay and god was it his best one yet. No screaming or crying, no pointless pleas or even threats. Just a reminder of the one thing you were leaving behind that hurt the most…Your fingers curled into his biceps, and for a second your mind flickered with doubt.

But the kiss ultimately ended, and you looked up at Mingyu. Now, you reached up, the one to wipe his eyes before they leaked tears. “I’ll let you know when I land.” you assured. You couldn’t promise him much else, but that seemed to do the trick. He cracked a small smile.

“Okay.” he said. Finally needing to pull away for good, you stepped back.

“Goodbye, Mingyu…” you said. Mingyu nodded.

“Goodbye.”

You knew Mingyu stayed locked in place, wanting to watch until the plane was long behind the clouds. It hurt, and you couldn’t bare to look at him anymore.

It took fifteen minutes to get on the plane, put your carry on above your head and nestle into your seat. Turning towards the window, you looked into the airport as if you could still see him from the distance. But you had no luck. Bulky as he was, Mingyu blended in with the rest of the airport, growing smaller and smaller the farther onto the runway the plane pulled. You eventually had to look away when your eyes got to glassy, the window looking like you were underwater rather than headed towards the skies.

Leaning your head against the headrest, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The flight safety announcements were beginning.

A shaky inhale, a sip of cold coffee, and a mental promise that this was the right choice.

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himegureisu · 3 months

Text

In the beginning

Summary: How You Met Mycroft Holmes

Your favored choice of drink intrigues the gentleman behind you. Your hand at home on the chilled beverage, the darkness of espresso against the white milk in ice provides a delightful sight— your simple delights for the day.

In the warmth of the cafe, beneath its’ roof, there’s solace from the torrential rain in Central London.

Your secluded spot on the corner by the window provides the most excellent view of a wet yet bustling morning where one such as yourself could gather their wits about before officially beginning the day.

From the corner of your eye, the wooden tip and black cloth of the umbrella tap on the tile in finality as the person who is about to disrupt your peace speaks.

“May I?” he subtly gestures to the seat across yours unoccupied, though you wonder why he would sit there when there were a few that remained vacant, and you subtly nod, “Thank you,”

Against his custom, out of sheer curiosity, Mycroft Holmes went outside his comfort zone.

In companionable silence, you sit and watch the vehicles pass by though you could feel his gaze on your tranquil form. For a brief moment, you turn and catch him off guard. His face is one of scrutiny and interest despite the firm line on his lips.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” his expression a deer caught in headlights as you ask.

“I apologize,” he sighs in thought, Was he so transparent? “I must admit I do not know what to say. I am not a man easily attracted to feminine charms, however, the moment I laid my eyes on your face of pure bliss from drinking your beverage drew me to seek your company.”

Oh. Were you truly making such a face?

“Would you like to try it?” you offer the drink on the table, “If you’re particular about saliva, feel free to remove the lid,”

“Oh, thank you, I would love to however I am…” he internally debates but you interrupt, “It’s only about 100 calories I try to watch my caloric intake when it comes to caffeine,”

“Well then, I shall indulge myself a bit,”

His hands deftly remove the lid from the cup, and he takes a slow but generous sip from the drink. In seconds, he could taste the bitterness of the coffee, the sweet taste of milk, and a dash of vanilla.

It was no wonder why you were satisfied it’s a delicious beverage.

There’s a small smile on his lips as he places the lid back on your cup. His phone vibrates from his jacket pocket and in seconds his smile turns upside down.

“I’m afraid I have to go,” he breathes out, though he doesn’t want to leave, “My brother has caused trouble again,”

“I understand,” you truly do understand that there are times like these, “Thank you for the company,”

To your surprise, he wordlessly asks for your hand, and you comply, for him to kiss the back of it and hand you a specialty card. His name and number are the only information provided.

“Thank you for indulging my curiosity,” he starts to walk away when you ask, “Will I see you again soon?”

“When time allows, I shall call,”

And, that’s how your relationship with one of the greatest minds in the world started.

#mycroft holmes #mycroft #bbc mycroft #bbc mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #bbc sherlock #xreader #mycroft holmes x you

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wordywarriorwrites · 2 years

Text

Mystery

Title: Mystery A03 | Master List | Rating: E Summary: A spoiled Duchess, a famous Detective, and a bathtub built for two. Written For: Milestone '23 Prompt: Sleepy/lazy, Sherlock, Bath or Shower Sex Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader Warnings: Smut. PWP.

As a Duchess in your own right, as well as the sole heiress to a vast fortune, you had access to the very best. Clothes, jewelry, theatres, art, food, even stationary. You catered to your own whims and spoiled yourself whenever you saw fit - which, to be honest, was quite often.

One of your most recent indulgences was your newly remodeled bathroom, with a waffle ceiling, tile-covered walls, a custom toilet, and a separate shower. There was also a double sink, with a mirrored, multi-drawered vanity that housed a variety of towels, robes, scents, oils, sponges, and brushes, but the crown jewel was the custom-made bathtub.

Instead of having it tucked away into the wall, the porcelain-lined, pool-like behemoth was the centerpiece. It offered a perfect view of the estate gardens, was deep enough to submerge yourself in, and the swaths of fabric bolted to the ceiling could be pulled around it for additional privacy.

You chose to leave the curtain open and observe a late afternoon storm build along the horizon. The clouds rolled in and darkened the skies, which prompted the gardeners to head for cover and the servants to light the lamps. Once your hair had been washed, you refreshed the water, dismissed your lady’s maid, and ensconced yourself in the bath’s rose-scented depths.

Finally, you were alone, and able to have a private moment with your thoughts. And there were many things on your mind - after all, you were solely in charge of your household and had a lot to attend to before the London season got underway. You intended to host a ball next month, and there were several details to iron out, but the combination of steam and heavy rainfall quieted your racing mind and soothed you.

Sleep beckoned, but just as you began to nod off, a soft knock roused you. Perturbed by the disturbance, you opened your mouth to send whoever it was away, but then, the door creaked open without your permission, and you knew of only one person - one man - who had the audacity to do such a thing.

“Detective,” you murmured.

“Duchess,” he greeted as he bolted the door.

You were fortunate. Privileged. Your title alone commanded respect, but you didn’t always behave as a lady of well-breeding should. Unmarried, with no children, and no guardian to watch over you? An independent woman of wealth and breeding who wasn’t a widow? It was unheard of, even obscene in some circles, but you were determined to retain your freedom for as long as you possibly could.

There were many suitors vying for your hand, but none who genuinely cared for you beyond your position and wealth. It was why you’d decided to forego the marriage market and take a lover instead. But only someone who understood the necessity for absolute discretion could be considered a candidate, and Sherlock Holmes certainly fit the bill.

But being alone with a man who was not your husband or familial relation was forbidden. Enjoying a man’s company was unseemly. Being naked in a tub, while watching a man undress and ready himself to join you, was also a wicked offense - one that would surely result in damnation should anyone learn of it.

Sherlock lowered himself in across from you and sighed, “Forgive me for my tardiness.”

You quirked a brow and dropped your foot between his pectorals, “Why should I?”

He grinned. Pressed a kiss to your ankle. Massaged from heel to arch while he shared his good news. Another case successfully closed, this time by his extensive knowledge of perfume and pipe ash. You laughed and reheated the water as he washed and regaled you with the tale. After a while, Sherlock fell silent, which prompted you to sit up and press a hand to his chest.

“Hungry?” you wondered.

“Famished,” he replied.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

You straddled his lap and cupped his face in your hands, “Let me make love you?”

Sherlock sat up and brushed his lips across your chin and cheeks, “Please.”

For all the dangerous, social landmines the two of you navigated, what you and Sherlock had was surprisingly uncomplicated. Your impeccable reputation and his unshakable honor afforded you both a lot of privacy and leeway. You also shared mutual acquaintances and occasionally saw each other at the same soirees, but neither of you made any overtures or public displays other than simple politeness. No flirting, no dancing, and absolutely no calls or gifts or letters. You were also friendly with his sister, Enola, and her close connection with Viscount Tewkesbury squashed any potential rumors and prevented tongues from wagging.

Besides, you were aware that Sherlock was married to his work. And he knew you wanted to remain independent for as long as possible. Yet, you also recognized the loneliness in each other.

And the desire for connection, too.

“You smell wonderful,” he observed gruffly between kisses. “Taste good, too. Like strawberries and hazelnuts.”

You grinned and dipped your tongue into his mouth, “You taste like beer. And cheddar cheese?”

“Such powers of observation, Duchess. You’ll put me out of a job.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock’s chuckles morphed to contented groans the moment you wrapped your hand around him. You stroked him with the firm grip he preferred, with a twist of the wrist at the tip, and felt his hips lift slightly with every tug. Your front row seat to the beginnings of his undoing excited you, and when you took him inside, he moaned and gripped your waist tight.

This wasn’t the first time - far from it, in fact - but it still managed to stun you both. You took a moment before you allowed your head to fall back and your body to move. You used his shoulders for leverage as you built a steady rhythm. You weren’t sure how long you had. Didn’t know if he was staying the night or taking off right away. How long it would be until you saw him again? If your lady’s maid came searching…

“Slowly, Duchess. We have time.”

You met his eyes and frowned slightly, “Of course. I’m just--”

“I know,” he interjected quietly, reassuringly. “Me, too.”

Another kiss was all it took to distract you both. The water sloshed with every movement and threatened to spill onto the floor. You watched his pupils expand and his tongue dart out to lick wayward droplets from his lips. His nipples were pebbled, and the spread of his thighs beneath yours ensured you remained wide open and able to take him to the hilt. As you languidly sought your peak, he helped you along - slipped his hand beneath the water, right between your legs, and used his skilled fingers to stroke and pat at your clit.

Sherlock was massive and warm and beautiful beneath you. Plump mouth and flushed cheeks and curls even more riotous from the movement and heat. His shoulders rolled and his arms flexed as he maneuvered your legs around his waist and twined your arms over his shoulders. Once you were settled, he splayed one hand on the small of your back, planted the other on the bottom of the tub, and drove up and into you with considerable force. Still drawn-out, of course, but much sharper than you were capable of, and precisely what you needed.

You came undone embarrassingly fast. So fast, in fact, that you were dumbfounded into utter stillness. Sherlock was delighted, perhaps even charmed, because he laughed into your slack mouth and made a low, pleased sound deep in his chest. The spark in his eye was akin to the one you’d often seen when he’d unraveled a particularly difficult riddle, but it wasn’t smugness or male pride. He was satisfied simply because he’d satisfied you, and that was one of his most endearing and appealing qualities.

Sherlock hummed and nipped at your breast, “Another?”

You moaned against the crown of his head. Gripped the sides of the tub with both hands. Allowed him to give you more of what you both wanted, however he wanted, because it felt good.

Sherlock Holmes made you feel good, and even though you knew the two of you were well on your way to getting a bit too carried away, you had no desire to stop. You muffled the sounds of your pleasure in the crook of his neck, and each of his ragged exhales were interspersed with throaty growls and pointed thrusts that made you delirious.

Some time later - after you’d fed him, made love again, and put him to bed for the night in the guest room across from yours - you put on a nightgown, and slipped beneath your own sheets.

Sherlock would be gone before daybreak. You’d be up early, too, because you also had things to do. You’d enjoyed a rare night with him. You’d indulged in each other and made tentative plans to see each other once more before your time was taken up with early morning callers, afternoon teas, and balls that ran late into the night.

You were happy - even if weren’t sure how long your affair with Sherlock would last.

But then again, you supposed it was just another mystery yet to be solved.

#sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x fem!reader #rabbitsmilestone23 #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #wordywarriorwrites #mystery

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bijouxcarys · 6 months

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𝑷𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏' 𝑮𝒖𝒚 - 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑬

Masterlist

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟐

“𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐡𝐮𝐧.”

I looked across at Emma, who was already into her third glass of Rosé. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine and from the excitement in the air. She swirled the liquid around her glass, lifting it to catch the light as she did so. The rim was wet from where she had licked it earlier, and she ran her tongue over it again, but there was no moisture to lick up this time. I knew I would be slipping on excess liquid at some point the next day, my kitchen tiles sprawled with wine glaze like a Jackson Pollock painting.

It wasn’t exactly a huge flat, but it was what we could afford at the time. I had to hop across the floor to avoid stumbling over random items just to get to my Converse without twisting my ankle. Emma was dancing and singing to our favourite song at the time: Immigrant Song by the ever-amazing Led Zeppelin.

“I swear there is nobody… nobody… better than Zed Leppelin,” Emma slurred slightly, one Doc Marten short.

My best friend.

“Yes, I love Zed Leppelin…” I answered bluntly, but inevitably laughed at her. I propped myself up onto the kitchen counter, face to face with the mirror on the wall ahead of me, applying the rest of my make up on with attempted precision. It looked the best it could do at that point.

I was able to get a sip of Emma’s drink at one point, but not nearly enough to be as wankered as she was.

“Maria! This is my favourite bit! Ahhhh!” Emma whined, her voice flat and unsteady.

As I hopped off the counter, she started to belt out the lyrics, her voice rising and falling in all the wrong places. I could hear muffled conflict through the floorboards beneath me from my downstairs neighbours. They were once again arguing about money or sex or something else that would make them both miserable for an evening. Next time they would have to find something new to argue about because we had heard it all before.

Emma was oblivious when she got like this; slowly going down with a ship full of happy people who did not appreciate life nor each other.

It was difficult to lead her in the right direction as we made our way to the local pub. She was such a mess when she was drunk. I had no idea what I would do if I got that drunk. With it being student night, it was only 60p a pint. So, I wasn’t laying any bets on me not getting somewhat drunk.

It didn’t help that Emma insisted that her leather jacket was indeed a weather bucket. Seeing her this drunk diverted my desire to be on that level. A level that already had her eye makeup smudged, making her look like an escapee from a rave rather than someone going to get cheap drinks on a Friday night.

But that’s what we were hoping for. Cheap drinks and good company that made you feel like you’d rocked yourself hard in a discotheque the morning after, just so we did not have to be alone with our thoughts of university.

The good thing was that as soon as we got to the pub, we’d be away from any roads, so I no longer had to be responsible for Emma’s destructive actions. I wasn’t used to being the one to look after the other. Emma had always acted as a mother figure to me, even throughout our couple of years at college.

The bright lights of the local pub beckoned to Emma and me through the cold London night sky. The scent of hops and wheat beer was a familiar comfort during late nights like these, when you needed something to calm your nerves before you went home to study or work on an assignment. I kept my hands in my pockets as we walked towards the doors, feeling the crisp air burning my nose and condensing into ice crystals.

It was warmer inside than I had anticipated. The wooden ceiling tiles let through a yellow light, warming the room. People talked at low tones, some played pool at one of the tables while others stood around chatting in clusters. It was always a popular way to forget the stress of your studies, especially since it was so hard to make a living in London.

We sat down at the bar, where Emma immediately ordered two shots of tequila from the bartender, who gave us a curious smile.

To many, events management wasn’t even a real thing to study. I admit, it is a weird thing to get a degree in, but it was interesting to say the least. It had its moments. I was just glad I could break up those moments with a night of sitting with Emma drinking cheap beer.

I sighed and shook my head as she instinctively made moves on the bartender. She needed it, the poor thing. She needed a good shag, to be honest, there’s no other way to put it.

I, on the other hand, now felt very awkward. I’d never been left alone in a pub before. But I didn’t want to risk ruining things for Emma and the bartender, so I walked over to the other bar that was stood directly next to that one.

A few drinks, and I should be fine.

After ordering my pint, I turned around and leaned on the bar so that I could get a good look at my surroundings. I noticed the stage was cleared of tables. Another student band, it seemed. A lot of the bands formed at Imperial weren’t exactly original, in all honesty. It wasn’t necessarily bad music; it just wasn’t anything worth buying in to.

After 3 and a half pints, my nerves had soothed out and I was confident enough to move myself over to an empty table. I did look around briefly for Emma, but I noticed she was now sat with another guy, at the other side of the pub.

That girl, I swear to God.

I would have ventured for someone else that I knew, had the student band not made their entrance. So, I just stayed where I was, finally being able to occupy myself with listening to music rather than sitting alone and drinking.

“We’re extremely thrilled to be here tonight!” The frontman, evidently tipsy, announced to everyone. Some people had intentionally stopped what they were doing in order to get a better view. A group of girls giggled as they pointed at their favourite band member. Some people had pulled up chairs and were sitting side by side while they drank and chatted together. It had me wondering, were they anything special?

“I’m Freddie, I’m the important one who makes sure you all have a beautiful night, you beautiful people.” He chuckled into the microphone, which was attached to a dissected stand. “John Deacon on bass,” he pointed over a meeker looking male, stood towards the back. “Of course, we have blondie on the drums!” Freddie hissed, as the blonde at the back stood up. His arms drummed out a rhythm from behind his drumset and made it sound like he was giving instructions to follow him into battle.

“What a tart, Roger.” Freddie teased, before excessively gesturing towards the last person to come on stage.

He was much taller than the rest of them and his hair was voluminous to say the least. He was also extremely thin, but he made up for it when he held his guitar in front of him.

“And this is Brian May on the gee-tar!”

“Tequila shots?? Only 50p each!” A bartender held out a circular tray with shot glasses scattered out amongst it.

I really shouldn’t, I thought, remembering I had a meeting with my professor the next day. But alas, I have never been good at self-control – especially when it came to alcohol. I bought two shots and downed them almost instantly. My throat almost closed at the strong taste; mimosas are more pleasant in comparison. I was not used to it at all.

I coughed and stifled my outburst with my hand, eyes riveted on the band onstage. The four of them were all attractive in their own intriguing ways. The sound of the drums was punctuated by the enthusiastic beat of Roger’s drumsticks. He had a certain kind of charm about him that made him almost larger-than-life. But it was the guitarist who truly stole my heart away with his displays of raw passion as he strummed chords that resonated perfectly with each other. He had intense dark eyes that seemed to bore into the fretboard of his guitar as he played with furious intensity, each riff powerful and precise. I must admit, they gave other bands a run for their money.

The song they performed seemed familiar—like it could have been an old classic that I couldn’t quite remember the name of. All I knew was that it filled me with an intense nostalgia and joy all at once. As soon as it ended, I felt a pang of regret settle within me. Alas, the song that I did not know the name of stayed in my head for the rest of the night. Whatever it was, it was a real banger.

“Maria!”

Startled, my head snapped towards the voice, spotting Emma walking towards me with a deep flush to her face.

“Where have you been?” I asked her, a slight slur to my voice as she took the seat beside me. But before she could answer, I rushed over her response. “And why is your face red?! Are you bleeding?!” My screeching voice echoed around us; I stood up hastily, knocking over my chair with my clumsiness, trying desperately to inspect Emma’s face for any signs of wounds.

“No! Oh… No…” Emma shook her head with a dopey smile. “It’s the lipstick… Got a bit smudged.”

“But you don’t wear—” Hiccup. “You don’t wear stiplick… Uh, lipstick.” I would have laughed at my own cock-up if it weren’t for the fact that I was a hair off of vomiting a bit of alcohol back up. Two drinks and I had hit rock bottom.

Drinking alcohol had always been something fun to do with friends in the past – a happy social experience without any undertones of depression or jealousy or whatever other emotions you could get when you drank alone.

I looked around and saw that people in surrounding groups were cheering loudly when the leader singer threw a towel at a specific group of girls stood at the side of the stage at the climax of his performance.

“We should probably go home… unless you want to meet the guys who were just up on that stage thing,” Emma waved roughly in the same relative directed as the stage. “Oh my God, that blonde drummer was so pretty!”

“No, we should go home. I have a meeting with Professor Ross tomorrow, remember?” I sighed sadly with a pout, guiding myself carefully towards the door.

“You know,” I heard Emma coming up behind me as we stepped out into the cold air. “Sometimes I think you should just shag the professor… That’s the closest you’ll get to a boyfriend, Maria…”

That was one thing about Emma: she said what was on her mind without pity or malice, but she really couldn’t control herself when she got drunk, which made for comedic situations that reminded me why I loved her so much.

“You always take yourself so seriously, Maria… Like your life is super hard and everything… on planet Earth right now is soooo bad! It’s not… you should just let loose every once in a while. Maybe, like, try some different makeup or something. Or shag someone—you could be having proper sex instead of snogging lampposts!”

I rolled my eyes as we made our way down the gravelly street.

“That band didn’t seem so bad… I’d shag all of them!”

I practically screamed at Emma’s words, as we both stumbled in the direction of our flat.

“Emma, I think I have a thing for guitarists now. I—” I would have finished my thought, only I hurled over into a bush, vomiting aggressively some of the alcohol back up. My mouth puckered from the taste of undigested alcohol and saliva; it was horrible. The sharp smell of vomit stung my nose, but I didn’t care about anything but getting as far away from this bush as possible. Emma held me under one arm, supporting me with her softness and absolute lightness. She helped me walk out of the bush and to the path toward home.

She tried her best to get my hair out of the way of my mouth, but it was already infused with my vomit. What a lovely sight I was.

Emma chuckled, squeezing me with her arm.

“Hey, maybe guitarists are into lightweights.”

I scoffed and groaned, already feeling the hangover approaching.

“What a wonderful world that would be.”

My head felt like it was being crushed by a giant hammer. Overwhelming pain and fatigue mixed with the sound of fizzing that rumbled in my brain. An agonising groan flew from my mouth, as I stirred from my unconsciousness to find Emma placing an aspirin on the coffee table.

“Maria, hun, it’s 10:30.” Her voice echoed through the fog of my hangover. Even the slightest ray of light felt like needles piercing my eyes.

“I need some sunglasses,” I muttered painfully as I pulled myself up from the sofa. My actions had been carefree last night, but I never intended to get so drunk. If only I could take back the control that slipped away too easily.

“What time did you say it was?” My voice was hoarse from the night before, and my limbs were stiff from sleeping on the sofa. I stumbled to grab the glass of aspirin, steadying it as best as I could with my trembling hands as Emma plopped down next to me, handing me a plate with a slice of toast on it.

“Half 10. What time is your meeting?” Emma said through her own morning grogginess. I looked at her, my eyes growing by the second.

Shit! The meeting!

I quickly swallowed the aspirin and took a bite out of the toast, leaping to my feet. Unfortunately, all of the sudden movement made me feel dizzy, and my vision became blurred for a moment.

No, no… Steady yourself!

“I won’t be too long, um,” I scrambled for my converse as I tried to tame my dishevelled hair. “There’s some pasta from the other night in the fridge, I gotta go, love you.” With that, I left Emma alone.

The walk from my flat to Imperial’s main campus felt like an eternity, despite how close it was. If only I had a car. Or at least knew someone who did.

It was one of those walks where your calves burn, really burn. When you know just how long you have left to walk, but your feet can’t seem to take you there fast enough. When your brain is just filled of nothing but determination to get to where you’re headed – even if it isn’t even that important. Yeah, walks like that stressed me out big time.

With only a few minutes to spare, I walked through the double doors of the college atrium, heading straight for the lift. There’s no way I’m walking up 5 flights of stairs feeling like pure death.

Much to my dismay, when I held out my finger to press the button, there was a piece of paper, with ‘out of order’ written on it.

Great, I thought.

As I made my way up the steps of the third flight of stairs, I had to resist the urge to burst into tears. My legs ached, I was so hot that it felt unbearable, and I felt like I could faint at any moment. My intoxication from the previous night had only made the situation worse.

I managed to make it to my professor’s office, which doubled as our lecture hall. It was decorated with images and accomplishments of some of the most successful music managers and publishers. My studies for the year focused on John Reid and his collaborations with Elton John. He was an incredibly important figure in the record industry, with him being so young, and coming from a humble background. Those simple facts made his accomplishments seem all the more remarkable.

As I predicted, I spotted my professor seated at his desk, absorbed in stacks of papers before him.

“Ah, Maria. You’re late.” The scolding tone I had been expecting was enough to let me know that my tardiness was a mistake, arriving to our meeting some twenty minutes after the scheduled time.

“Yes, Sir, I apologise. I must have overslept,” I replied meekly, making an attempt to smother my strained panting.

“Take a seat.”

Grateful for the reprieve from standing, I placed my bag on the ground and perched myself on the edge of the chair.

“Maria, I have to be straightforward and let you know that I’m an incredibly busy man,” my professor began. My initial dear was that he would go on a lecture about how I should be looking for a job and stop relying on student funds. Instead, he went on, “Since I’m based in London, there are too many opportunities available but too few people to fill them. And when I’m not running twenty minutes late because of certain students…” My cheeks burned. “I am often being offered job postings.”

I shifted forwards, massaging my throbbing knees. “Really?”

“Indeed,” he responded. “What you may not know is that you’re one of our top students in the course at Imperial. Which is why I have a proposition for you.”

A swirl of questions rushed into my mind: Was I finally receiving a job offer? Would I be able to repay all of my debts? Could I now proudly inform my parents I had landed a job?

Instantly, my posture was held upright in anticipation as I leaned forward in the chair, eager to listen to what my professor had to say.

“It’s been a challenging process lately with a lot of people in our area trying to make it big in the music business, becoming the next rockstar.”

In response, I injected a hint of light-heartedness to our discussion, remarking, “Yes, Sir, that’s certainly a good way to make a lot of money.”

“It could be,” he continued. “There’s a group here that I want you to look after and get the most out of their experience. You can earn some of it back, but there won’t be much money coming your way. It’s just the way of getting some valuable experience in the music business.”

My already sinking spirits were doused further when he added this tid-bit, for I could not hope to survive off of the meagre sum. Sinking back into my seat, I could not help but be overcome by my heavy fatigue from my recent hangover.

Free work? Absolutely not, Sir.

“This isn’t exactly the next Rolling Stones here,” he clarified, attempting to alleviate the sour atmosphere in the room. “These musicians aren’t even from the music department. All I need you to do is mentor them a bit and book them some local gigs if possible.”

Reluctantly, I came to the realisation that I had nothing to lose by accepting this opportunity. With nothing to risk and potentially something to gain, it was certainly worth the try.

I had been expecting a little time to contemplate my decision, however, due to arriving late, I was only given two minutes to make my choice. It wasn’t as if I had much of a choice, besides, this was an opportunity to aid me in getting a degree.

Every single second seemed to be stretched out into an eternity, leaving me feeling weary and nauseous, my tiredness deciding to abruptly fail me in the worst possible time. The moment I heard voices approaching from the outside, coming closer, I knew I was in for a ride.

“What do you mean, it’s my fault the lift isn’t working?” A shrill voice sounded, sounding slightly out of breath, at the same time the door opened to reveal the blonde-haired drummer boy from the pub, looking just as arrogant as I remembered. I couldn’t believe my eyes when Freddie and Brian, the singer and guitarist from the night before, followed shortly after, sending my already weakened state into further disarray.

My professor stood up, pointing to me and saying, “This is Maria, she’ll be making sure you book the correct gigs and gain enough publicity.” After shaking away the effects of my hangover just enough to properly introduce myself, I couldn’t help but feel comforted by locking eyes with Freddie. Roger however, seemed quite excitable, an observation which had me instantly pondering how he would get on with Emma.

Lastly, Brian, with his hair looking like a poodle's, was standing in the corner with his hands shoved into his pockets, giving me a slightly unsure look. It was then that I noticed my throat was becoming drier by the second and that I was struggling to breathe properly.

The guitarist’s eventual smile was enough to send my stomach into an uproar, although I couldn’t quite tell if it was due to my anxiety or hangover. My mind felt blank for a second as Brian waited for me to introduce myself.

“Erm, sorry. I’m…” My voice got caught in my throat, somewhat unable to finish my sentence.

I heard Freddie’s mischievous chuckle fill the room, his voice laced with playful amusement. “Have you forgotten your name already, darling?” he teased, his eyes dancing with mirth. Meanwhile, Roger, his blonde locks framing his face, couldn’t help but join in, a soft giggle escaping his lips as he adjusted his hat.

A wave of nausea washed over me, compelling me to rush towards the bin tucked away in the corner of my professor’s room. With each heave, I found myself yearning for Emma’s presence, someone to hold my hair back and offer comfort. Yet, to my dismay, they all stood there, mere spectators to my torment, their gazes fixed upon me without offering any aid.

When the ordeal finally subsided, I gingerly wiped my mouth with my sleeve, attempting to compose myself as best I could. Despite the undeniable evidence of my body’s revolt, I fought to maintain an appearance of normalcy, as if I hadn’t just expelled the contents of my stomach.

Roger, taken aback by the insinuation that they were the cause of my sickness, voices his offence, “Jesus, we’re not that bad, are we?” Brian, sensing the need to defuse the situation, swiftly nudged him, effectively silencing his protest.

Feeling a pang of guilt, I conjured up a lie, unwilling to reveal the truth about my indulgence in excessive drinking the previous night. “S-sorry… I guess I’m not well,” I stammered, my words cloaked in falsehood, fearing the judgement that would accompany any glimpse of my perceived irresponsibility.

Brian’s voice, quiet and reassuring, offered solace amidst the turmoil, but his words were eclipsed by the deep sigh emanating from my professor. Expressing concern for my recent behaviour, he advised, “Maria, I think you should go home and come back tomorrow with a stronger mindset. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”

Burdened by shame, I hastily gathered my belongings, my footsteps hurried as I attempted to escape the situation. However, my escape was interrupted as Freddie’s hand clasped around my arm, a sympathetic smile gracing his lips. “It’s alright, darling, we all get pissed sometimes,” he consoled me, a touch of laughter colouring his words. With a gentle release of his grip, he allowed me to continue on my way.

As I made my retreat, a lingering sense of embarrassment enveloped me, casting a shadow over the encounter that would remain etched in my memory.

Brian

I observed Maria’s departure from the room, her face filled with embarrassment. It was evident that the professor’s attitude had done little to make her feel welcomed. What a prick, I thought, casting a disdainful glance at him. Sensing Maria’s unease, I turned my attention back to the professor.

“Are you sure she’s going to be able to handle us?” I inquired, picking up on her anxious exit.

Roger chimed in, his voice tinged with a hint of arrogance. “Yeah, we’re not exactly easy to be around. We want a lot from this experience, you know.”

Rolling my eyes, I interjected, not impressed with Roger’s comment. “I’m sure you do, Rog,” I retorted, well aware of his intentions when it came to meeting a new girl.

“Ladies, please, we can fight in our own time,” Freddie scolded us, his tone laced with exasperation. “Deacy doesn’t like the fighting, darling. How could you possibly be this childish?”

“It’s a good thing he’s not here then, isn’t it?” Roger shot back, revealing his immaturity.

The professor interrupted our verbal clash, clearing his throat. “That’s a point. Aren’t there four of you? Where’s the other one?”

“The other one, my dear, is our bassist, and he’s more than ‘the other one’. Furthermore, he doesn’t come here,” Freddie retorted sharply, striding toward the professor, and clasping his hands behind his back. It was evident that someone had irked Freddie with such a response. “He doesn’t mix with scum, darling.”

“Fred, chill,” I interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension as I offered a warm smile to the professor.

Freddie took a step back, relenting. “So, we’ll take the girl’s number and say no more about it, yes?”

“Of course,” the professor replied dryly, jotting down Maria’s number on a small piece of paper. Before the professor could even pick it up, Freddie snatched it from him, turning around and heading for the door.

“Remember she’s an unpaid student. Don’t be too ambitious, and don’t stress her out too much, boys,” the professor cautioned.

Roger smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t worry, we only need a little push, and we’ll be on Top of the Pops in five years.”

“Five years, darling? Try two years!” Freddie proclaimed with confidence, opening the door for us all to exit. As we left, I could have sworn I heard the professor mutter, “You wish.”

“You can’t keep your mouth shut, you two,” I snapped at Freddie and Roger as we made our way down the stairs.

“What are you complaining about?” Roger countered. “One girl is going to be spending a lot of time around us, four guys. This is the best opportunity of our lives, Bri!”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “The only opportunity you think you’re getting is to get in her pants, which will not happen, by the way. You can’t mix up business with lust, Rog.”

Roger stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “Let’s hope she has a hot friend, then!” With that, he skilfully slid himself down the banister of the staircase.

“You wish, Blondie,” I murmured under my breath, trailing behind Roger down the stairs.

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octaneink · 3 months

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Hello Baby Can You Come Over

This is another Harry Lewis one, I think I wrote this after Ring RIng.

It uses the same name for the original character (Aurora) but I think I wrote her to be more of a person rather than the empty husk of the last one (this is moreso due to not having spent enough time developing the story) shes an overworked software engineer. The story was meant to unravel with her slowly learning to let loose, relax and be herself again. I don’t think I had romance at the front of this story when I thought of it, it was more so Aurora developing into herself and finding Harry on the way, if that makes sense?

Original female character x Harry Lewis

Tired bleary eyes behind silver framed rims stared back at her from the mirror. Aurora had just gotten out of the shower, the steam from the hot water fogging up the glass as she stepped out onto the cold tile floor. She quickly got dressed in her favorite tan joggers and a well-worn white crop top, pulling on a brown massive zip-up hoodie that was a size too big and hung in a way that made her look like a child in her father’s clothes. She brushed her fingers through her hair, taming the wild locks into submission with a clip, then slipping on a pair of bright red headphones to hold down any baby hairs that may have escaped, and slipped on her white trainers.

Making her way out of her room, she caught her eye on the full body mirror by door. Aurora barely recognized the reflection staring back at her - she looked like she hadn't slept in days and her clothes were frayed and worn, a far cry from the put-together woman she used to be. The comments her family, friends and co-workers made about her appearance didn’t really sink in until now.

Shaking her head, Aurora grabbed her keys and headed out into the bustling streets of London. She lived in a small, shared apartment on the outskirts of Central London, close enough to the action to be convenient but far enough away to avoid the crowds. As she walked, Aurora thought about her current predicament. She rarely went out anymore, spending most of her time holed up in her flat, working from home and saving her money. The days all blended together, forming a tangled ball of yarn that she couldn't seem to unravel. But today was different - Aurora had recently finished a big project so she took the rest of Friday off from work and she was determined to enjoy it.

Before she left the flat, she turned off her work laptop with the intention of heading out for some unhealthy food. Aurora was thankful that the company she was working for allowed you take off sometime during a workday if you’ve been working a lot. Who knew being one of the three senior developers in a small company would mean that you would have no more free time?

Aurora checked her phone for texts from her friends and started to reply to them methodically. Most were generic ‘How are you’ or ‘How's work going’ texts that she answered quickly. Looking up from her phone to the McDonald's she sighed displeased. There was a long queue leading out to the street. She joined behind a family of four and continued to text her friends. A new notification popped up at the top of her screen, it was a message from her friend Kon:

Are you free now? And will be free for the next three hours or so?

Aurora looked at it, then to the line in front of her that hadn’t moved in the last five minutes and replied:

Yes

What up?

We are one woman down, can you come down to film?

I’m waiting in line 4 maccies

I will buy you food

I’m not wearing seeing people clothes, I’m in joggers n oversized hoodie

The lads won’t care, some will find it hot I bet you

What lads r u on abt?

My bosses

U want me to be in the same video as ur bosses? U know how sus tht sounds man?

Not everyone is as dirty minded as you Rory

Aurora stared at the screen, then looked up again to the line. A soft ping from her phone made her look at Kon’s message again:

If you get here in the next 20 min, I will buy you sushi

I’ll get all your favourites plus throw in mochi

Aight. Bet. Whats ya addy

Aurora left the queue to flag down a taxi, getting another soft ping. It was the address. She climbed into the back of the taxi and showed him the address, “Can you get me here in under twenty minutes?” Aurora asked the driver.

She nodded, “I can get you there in half the time, honey.” Aurora let out a small yes, sat back and put on the belt. The two ladies talked on the way there, Aurora managed to learn that her driver was named Becca, forty-years old. She had four other siblings, and her eldest brother owned a bakery and café a few blocks from her house and told Aurora to go if she was interested.

Becca pulled up to a two-story bricked building with lots of cars parked outside. Aurora texted Kon she was outside and took out her wallet, “How much?”

“It’ll be fifteen pounds, love.” Aurora took out a twenty and handed it to Becca and started to get out the taxi. “Wait for your change, honey, I owe you five.”

Aurora paused, half her foot out the car and replied “Becca, you got me here in seven minutes. That five is a thank you for letting me get something from my friend. Please, keep it.” Becca smiled and said thank you. Aurora left the car, closed the door, waved once and the walked to what she thought to be the entrance.

She was proven right when the door opened and Kon stepped through, waving at her. “Hey, thanks for coming in such short notice. Really quickly too. And don’t worry, I ordered the sushi already. Figured you’d be hungry. When did you last eat?” they hugged and stepped into the warm studio. Aurora looked around the room seeing lots of women sitting on the sofa, a tall bar, four barstools, a coffee bar and what she thinks are employees like Kon doing their jobs.

“Does coffee two hours ago count?”

“No. Of course not, Rory.”

“Then lunch yesterday.” Kon sighed and dragged us to the coffee station.

“Fuck sake Rory.” He reaches under the coffee station, rummages through something, pulls it out and hands it to Rory. Aurora looked at it, it was a protein bar, she opened it. He then took out the pot with the brewed coffee and placed it inside one of the mugs, handing it to her when he finished, “Is it your job again?” Aurora nodded, stuffing half the bar into her mouth and biting it. She finished chewing, swallowed and drank a gulp of the lukewarm coffee.

“Yea, I’ve been working a lot of overtime the past week. I’ve finally programmed it to be put into production and sent off to the testers. Because I’ve done so much overtime, I can basically take half days for the next two weeks, and they can’t complain about it.”

“You really need to find a new job, Rory. That or stay in this job, but stop letting them push you around so much.” Kon looked like he was going to start ranting, so Aurora interrupted him.

“I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve started looking. I’ve even been to some interviews already. I’ll quit when I definitely get a job that I like.” he looked ready to ask more, but she barrelled on, “Now, tell me what I signed myself up for.”

Kon nodded and led her to the bar, and they pulled out the stools and sat, “So basically it's tinder in real life for a YouTube video.” Aurora choked on the rest of the protein bar, she coughed, took the coffee and drank it, washing down the bar.

“Kon, you gotta tell me these things before, man. I look horrible.”

He rolled his eyes, “Shut up you look fine. Anyways, you need to walk up to those stairs, go stand by the feet, face the camera introduce yourself and where you’re from, and then decide yes or no on the guys depending on what they say to you. At the end of it, you need to tell them why you said no. You’d be the last one up there, so I’m sure you can listen in if it will make you feel less nervous.”

Aurora nodded. “Cool, can I give a reply to what they tell me? Make a little conversation and the like, or just send them off?”

"You can do whatever you want, Rory. Just keep in mind, some of these lads have a girlfriend." he said. Aurora looked at him puzzled, "The fuck they doin this for then?"

Kon shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Content. The fans demand it. Or for the craic, as you say. Take your pick." His phone chimed, and he glanced down at it before looking back up at Aurora. "Sushi's here, I'll grab it, and then we can chat a bit more before I have to head back upstairs. I stepped out to get you, and I can't go back in until the girl up there is finished." Aurora watched as Kon walked out the door to retrieve the sushi. Her mind was filled with doubts about the upcoming shoot. She had always been there for Kon, mostly providing online support because of her busy schedule, and creating websites for him when he asked. She was scared, if she was being honest. Aurora knew that if she wasn't so tired and hungry, she would be quaking in her boots and sprinting out the door. But in her current state, she felt untouchable. Maybe she should have more coffee to wake up a bit more. She didn't want to say something on camera that would make her look foolish. The sound of a paper bag being placed on the table brought her attention back to Kon. "Are you alright there? You seemed deep in thought," Kon asked, concern etched on his face.

She thanked him for the food, pulling it out and laying it in front of them, took one of the chopsticks and passed the other one to him. She waited for him to take it before replying, “I’ll be honest with you Kon, I have slept a total of six hours since Monday.” she looked at him, and she wondered what he saw, if the exhaustion she felt reflected on her face.

“You already know what I will say.” Aurora did, she’s lost count of the amount of times they have had this conversation. Sometimes she thinks that is the reason they don’t meet up in person any more, they would end in uncomfortable silence. She missed their childhood, it seemed easier then. “So I will keep this short, please go home after this Aurora.” He used her full name, he was being serious, “Don’t do anything. Not even housework, just sleep.” Aurora nodded, feeling chided.

“Hand on heart Kon,” she placed her hand on her heart, “I will do just that.” They ate in silence for a beat before she spoke up quietly “Thanks Kon, I mean it honestly. We should catch up soon. Properly this time. How’s tomorrow evening sound?”

Kon hummed and held up a finger, chewing and swallowing the bite of nigiri he was eating, then answering, “I said I would be drinking with the lads and their missus, but I can ask if you can tag along.”

Aurora shook her head “Are you mad? I can’t come uninvited.” Kon rolled his eyes and replied “Don’t be dramatic Rory, I just invited you.” she sputtered trying to come up with a reply when a girl walked down the stairs, Kon stood up, took one more nigiri and said “Alright, see you up there. You got it, Rory.” With one last pat on her shoulder, he walked off and up the stairs. Aurora stared at the stairs where he disappeared, mouth gaped, she had more questions. Closing her mouth, she faces the platter again, unlocks her phone and start up some music again. Hard bass start up, enough to distract her from where she is but still be able to hear if someone called her up.

Swiping on her phone, Aurora continued to eat the sushi while trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of being stared at. The next hour or so passed like that, she heard the team beckon the girls upstairs. As more names are called she felt more relaxed, she finished the meal a while ago and cleaned up after herself. Placing all the rubbish in the bag it came in and threw it in a bin provided, she even ate one of the matcha mochi Kon surprisingly bought her. She decided to keep the other in her hoodie pocket to give to Kon after the shoot. It was tradition to split dessert with who ever bought it. Aurora stared blankly at her phone not really paying attention to it, she was more hyper aware of the staircase and the women that were there but have long gone, having left the building after their shot.

“Oi Rory, get up here.” Kon’s voice came from the stairs. Snapping to attention, she took a deep breath, and walked to the stairs. On the way there, she slipped her phone into her pocket, turned down her music and tucked her headphones around her neck, making sure to pull out any hair that was trapped under it. It felt like she blinked, and she was almost on the top of the stairs, she could just about see the mark she was meant to stand on, several people and lots of equipment. “Hello.” she said.

“That’s your Rory?” She tried not to focus on the lads lining up where she would stand along. She especially didn’t want to think of the hush that followed, then murmuring that she couldn’t understand fully due to the blood pumping around her ears.

Aurora fiddled with the rings on her hands as she walked up to the spot on the floor, spotting Kon by one of the cameras adjacent to her. He waved, pointing to the camera closest to him, and mouthed ‘This one’ to her. Aurora let out a small relieved smile, took a calming breath, hoped that her voice didn’t betray how nervous she really felt.

“Hi everyone,” she waved “I’m Aurora, but you can call me Rory, twenty-three, and I live in London.” she then faced the—she counted quickly in her head, ten lads in front of her. “Evening lads, how’s everyone today?”

Someone towards the back piped up, she didn’t really see who it was that said “Fantastic. Thank you for asking, starting to get really hungry though, not gonna lie. Only one other person asked you know. Bit rude.” the man was ignored by the surrounding lads.

Aurora, still fiddling with the rings on her hands smiled at the guy in front of her, he was taller than her, dark skinned, notably wore a white hoodie, and a black bandana. She waited for him to say a pickup line like Kon said but when he opened his mouth and said “I’m KSI.” with his arms spread wide, she was confused. She heard the lads and especially Kon laugh up-roaringly.

“Um,” Aurora pushed up her glasses, “sorry, I thought I was supposed to hear a pickup line.” the man in-front of her stared open-mouthed. A short man pushed his head to the side to peak at her and said “Wait do you not know who he is?” she shook her head and replied “Not a clue, sorry.”

KSI turned to Kon and yelled, “What the fuck man? What did you tell her?” a ginger man with glasses pipped up and said, “Fuck all, apparently.” then he let out a loud infectious laughter that soon everyone was laughing along. Aurora couldn’t help but join in, she had no clue what exactly they found funny, but she was sleep-deprived enough to not care.

“Alright, sorry. Let’s try that again. I’m JJ, twenty seven years old and do you like sleep?” he asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“What a coincidence, I do too.” a wide smirk stretched across his face “We should sleep together.”

Aurora hummed “Lovely line, but no.” she swiped, pointing to the big white glowing sign that said no.

“What why not?” He sounded angry but didn’t look it, walking slowly to the no. “You said you like sleep.”

“I love sleep, I really do. But does it look like I’ve had much of it recently?” She took one hand pointed and pointed to her face, more specifically under her eyes, “I’ve had a total six glorious hours of sleep since Monday.”

He whipped back around shocked, “Damn bitch, get some sleep.”

Aurora can’t imagine how deranged she looks when the noise that came out of her mouth plus the “I’m trying.” she focused on the next man in line, he was shorter than JJ and gave off a boyish smile “Hi I’m Vik, twenty five and, uh I wrote a poem for you. Would you like to hear it?” she nodded. “Roses are red, violets are blue. I’ve got a knife, get in the back of the van.” She laughed, the type you would let out when you are too shocked to do anything else. Looking around the room, she saw that many others were also reacting with shocked laughter. It was clear that the joke had caught everyone by surprise, and they were all struggling to process what they had just heard. An unknown man voiced out “What the fuck Vik?” from the line.

“Uh,” Aurora started, hand raising like she was asking a teacher in school a question, “is there an answer where I won’t get stabbed or trafficked?” the group erupted into fits of giggles and guffaws. Some people doubled over, clutching their sides as they laughed uncontrollably. “I’ll just walk to no for you.” Vik walked over to the no side as he talked.

Aurora looked at the next man in line, the notable thing about him was he was tall and had a beard. “Hi I’m Josh, and I’m twenty eight.” she waved at him “Do you like sharks because I've got a megla-dong.” Booing started up from the surrounding lads, JJ from the side started yelling about not being original. And the ginger man she heard yell at Kon earlier started to yell “Come up with your own fucking joke Zerka.”

She waited for them to calm down before asking him “Do you want to go again or?” she dragged out the ‘r’ and she shook his head and walked to no. “Wow cool.” Another tall boy walked up to her, this time the notable thing about him was his lanky figure and a black bomber jacket.

“I’m Simon, I’m twenty eight and I gotta say the only thing I hate about Spotify is not adding you in this week's hottest single.” Aurora gasped, hand clutched over her heart “Gah that was so cute.” she swiped yes “Go, go, go!” Simon walked off, first to the yes side, a smug smile was sent over to the three over at no.

I focused once again on the guy in front of me, this time the most notable thing of the guy was his durag and a kind smile “Hi I’m Chunks, twenty four and I have to say, if I had a flower for every time I think of you, I could walk in my garden forever.” a gooey smile broke through Aurora’s face “Awww, thank you Chunks.” she pointed to the yes side, and they all celebrated “That’s all of them!” Chunks yelled, while doing a little dance to the yes, “You lot need to get on my level.” Simon was waiting with his hand out, ready for a high five, Chunks raised his hands, and they met in the middle with a loud slap.

“I’m Tobi, I’m twenty seven and I just have one question,” she motioned for him to go on, “apple or orange juice?” The lads started going on again about re-using the same line “Listen lads I’m starving, sorry if I can’t think of original material.”

“Apple.” Aurora answered and asked him “Why?” he didn’t say anything, he just gave her a happy nod and walked to the yes side. She watched perplexed but let him be.

“You just gonna let him go?” it was the ginger man’s turn now, and he didn’t look too happy with her decision of letting him go, she shrugged and said “He took charge and made his own choice. I respect that.” he smirked and started to walk to yes “No,” He stopped, “Tobi at least introduced himself and gave something. You need to try too.”

He rolled his eyes, walked back and said “Names Ethan, I’m twenty five and I’m feeling a little peckish, you got any almonds?” Aurora shook her head, “No? Well how about a date?” Aurora gasped again, “Damn that was one smooth line you know. Yes.” He jogged to the other two and gave them both high-fives. He then faced the people on the no side and threw up, what Aurora assumed to be gang signs and gloated being on the yes.

A really tall man walked up next and said “Hi I’m Harry Pinero, HP, I’m twenty nine.” He pulls his left arm to his chest and pushed back his sleeve, “My watch tells me things about other people and it says you’re not wearing any panties.” he tapped his wrist, notably having no watch, making Aurora laugh “Sorry to say Harry, but it’s wrong I am.” he nodded slowly “Hm, must be fast.” he then pretended to adjust his watch. He then looked up slowly and raised a brow. A slow smile spread on Aurora’s face and she let out a laugh, “Yes, the non existent prop is hilarious.” He laughed, thanked her and walked smugly to the other lads.

Aurora watched amused, only two people were left now, a short man and a blonde man. “Hi I’m Filly, twenty five and I just have to say, eres tan hermosa que me dejas sin palabras.” The lads around him complained about the Spanish, but Aurora replied “Me halagas, gracias, era lindo pero aburrido. ¿Pero qué habrías hecho si no supiera español?” He gasped, a delighted smile stretched across his face “Sí, puedo hablar y entenderlo.”

“¿Cuánto tiempo? ¿Cómo lo aprendiste?”

“Un año, lo aprendí porque estaba aburrido.”

“Pensé que eras español, ya sabes. ¿De dónde eres?”

“No lo soy, soy mixto, filipino y desconocido.”

“Y no creas que pasé por alto esa parte de que fuera aburrido. Me gustaría ver que lo hagas mejor.”

Aurora smirked, mind running trying to think of something good, “Está bien, esperaba escuchar algo así.” She then looked him in the eyes then said “Si fuéramos marcas, yo sería Nike y tú serías McDonald's, porque yo lo haría y tú lo adorarías.“

She could tell he shocked Filly with her pick-up line, his mouth was gape, and he stared at her in surprise. After a beat of silence, he let out a burst of surprised laughter. "I can't believe you just said that." he said, trying to catch his breath after laughing so hard.

“We’re gonna need a translation, lad.” The man behind Filly said, “Don’t worry to the viewers at home though because there will be subtitles.”

“I gave her a cheesy line, she said what I would have done if she didn’t know Spanish, then she said she could do better and said one of the most outrageous shit. I didn’t expect it out of her. I don’t know why Kon wanted us to be nice when she can say shit like that.”

“What did she say?” Ethan asked. Filly turned to me, looked me up and down and gave me a judgemental look that’s obviously fake then said “Go on, say that filthy thing.” Aurora shrugged and said “Ok, I told him if we were brands I'd be Nike, you'd be McDonald's cuz I'd be doing it, and you'd be loving it.”

Laugher rang through the studio, though the man behind Filly spoke up “Ah that’s not too bad.” Aurora nodded, snapped and pointed at him “YES! He’s correct, I could have gone the second route, which was to say are you treasure? Cuz I'd love to hunt you down and share you between my men.” The laughter stopped. There was a shocked silence in the studio. The sound of someone’s breathy laughter echoed through the empty room, breaking the silence. It was like a domino effect, everyone was laughing along as well. Despite the initial shock, the laughter continued to build as they all tried to make sense of the situation. It was a mix of amusement and disbelief, and it felt like the room was buzzing with excitement. As the laughter subsided, she couldn't help but shake her head in amazement. It was unexpected, she didn’t think they would find her joke that funny.

“Oh, before I forget, it's a yes for you. Gracias por hablar conmigo.” Filly celebrated while walking off to the yes. Something along the lines of finally getting on yes while JJ is on the no.

The blonde man behind Filly stepped up. He looked nervous, “Hi, I’m Harry. I’m twenty seven,” he paused, Aurora could see the internal struggle reflecting on his face. Harry fidgeted with his hands and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly nervous about telling the pick-up line. When he finally spoke, “Are you a bowl of milk? Cuz I'd like to put you on the floor and lap that shit up.” He kept going, his eyes locked on Aurora's as he delivered the line.

Aurora's eyes widened in shock. For a moment, she couldn't believe what she had heard. But then, to her surprise, she found herself laughing. "I can't believe you just said that," she said, still giggling, "but it was actually good." she pointed to the yes, he stared at her in shock. The other people in the studio started to laugh from the sheer surprise that Aurora hadn't been offended by it.

“No to Vik because I am scared to be trafficked,” said man nodded and said, “Fair enough.” Aurora continued, “Josh is a no because he apparently re-used a pick-up line and willingly walked to no. And no to JJ because you rubbed in what I couldn’t have.”

“That’s fair yea.” JJ nodded and the surrounding two agreed.

Aurora zoned out for a bit, standing there as the lads celebrated the end of the video. She started to focus again when she saw Kon walk towards her “Hey, thanks again for this.” she waved one hand to say it's not a bother, and with the other she reached into her pocket and pulled out the mochi, “Don’t worry, it was fun. Got to leave the flat and free food. Here’s your half, by the way.” and placed it into his hand.

“So what will you be up to after this? Can I tempt you with more food?” She shook her head and took out her phone and started to book an Uber to take her back to her flat “Thanks for the offer Kon, but I’m heading back to the flat and just crashing. I’m beat.” he nodded and shrugged, “That’s fair, see you tomorrow then.” Aurora looked at her phone, the Uber won’t get there for another ten minutes, “Is there anything I can do to help before I go? I don’t mind giving a hand.” she offered.

Kon shook his head and waved her off. "No, no, that's okay. We've got it covered. You just go home and get some rest. You need it," he said, grinning. Aurora nodded and rolled her eyes at his jab, she couldn’t help but smile softly, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her. "Okay, thanks, Kon. I'll see you soon," she said, before turning to walk down the stairs to wait for her Uber.

But before she could take another step, her friend Kon stopped her. "Where are you going?" he asked, sounding confused. Aurora turned to face him, feeling confused at his confusion. "I'm going to wait for my Uber outside. It's on its way, and I don't want to miss it," she replied, her tone as confused as she felt.

Kon's eyes narrowed and he raised a very judgemental brow. "You're going to wait outside? In this cold? Are you mad?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. Aurora blinked at him "I'm not crazy, Kon. I don’t want to be in anyone’s way and miss my ride." she said as if it was obvious.

Kon shook his head. "You're being stupid, Aurora. You’re not in anyone’s way. Plus, you're going to freeze out there. Come on, wait downstairs where it's warm," he said, taking her arm and steering her towards the stairs. Aurora followed him without complaint as they walked down the stairs. As she settled onto the couch in the lobby while watching him walk back up to the chaotic top floor, she couldn't help but feel happy with her choice of friend. “Text me when you get back to the flat right.”

“Will do boss.” She called up the stairs. Sitting on the couch made Aurora aware of how exhausted she felt. Her mind felt like a deep fog settled and she was pretty sure she hadn’t blinked until her phone vibrated signalling her Uber has arrived. She walked out of the studio and settled into the backseat of the car, feeling grateful to finally be on her way to the flat.

As the Uber made its way through the city, Aurora found herself drifting in and out of consciousness. She was so tired that she could barely keep her eyes open. She tried to focus on the passing buildings and street signs, but it was all a blur. She felt like she blinked and suddenly the car was pulling up outside her flat.

Aurora thanked the driver and stumbled out of the car to make her way inside her flat. She fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock the door. Finally, she managed to get it open and walked inside. She took off her shoes, slipped her feet into a pair of slippers, and made sure the front door was locked and bolted before walking to her bedroom. She collapsed onto her bed, barely managing to text her friend to let her know she was home before falling into a deep sleep.

------ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Translation (as provided by Google Translate)

You are so beautiful that you leave me speechless. → Eres tan hermosa que me dejas sin palabras.

That was cute, bit boring but cute. But what happened if I didn't know Spanish? → Eso era lindo, un poco aburrido pero lindo. Pero ¿qué pasaría si no supiera español?

You can speak Spanish? → ¿Puedes hablar Espahish?

Yes, I can speak and understand it. → Sí, puedo hablar y entenderlo.

How long? How did you learn? → ¿Cuánto tiempo? ¿Cómo lo aprendiste?

A year, picked it up because I was bored. → Un año, lo aprendí porque estaba aburrido.

I thought you were Spanish you know. Where are you from? → Pensé que eras español, ya sabes. ¿De dónde eres?

I'm not I'm mixed, Filipina and unkown. → No lo soy, soy mixto, filipino y desconocido.

And don't think I missed that part about it being boring. I'd like to see you do better. → Y no creas que pasé por alto esa parte de que fuera aburrido. Me gustaría ver que lo hagas mejor.

Alright, I was expecting to hear something like this. → Está bien, esperaba escuchar algo así.

If we were brands I'd be Nike, you'd be McDonald's cuz I'd be doing it and you'd be loving it → Si fuéramos marcas, yo sería Nike y tú serías McDonald's, porque yo lo haría y tú lo adorarías

I didn't know how to progress from this. I had originally written something that followed Aurora meeting the full gang in a restaurant the day after, but I have no idea what to do after it, and I just stopped.

#harry lewis #harry lewis x original character #unfinished

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sandcobangevent · 5 months

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London is a Series of Tubes

By @daemonbreath and @silvascribble

The evening had started off normal enough.

Sherlock and John had just closed a tricky but very lucrative case, and John had insisted on a company outing to celebrate. Mariana had found a local theatre company that was doing Shakespeare’s 12th Night and managed to get them all tickets. Sherlock was surprisingly interested in Shakespeare and seemed very excited to see the play.

If they wanted to make it to the theatre in time for curtain call, they had to do a bit of scrambling to get ready. Right as John and Mariana were about to leave 221, Sherlock had remembered a sensitive experiment that needed tending to. He had told John and Mariana to go on without him, and that he’d meet them in the lobby. Not wanting to be late, Mariana had agreed and she and John caught a cab to the theatre.

That had been over an hour ago.

Mariana and John had arrived in time to get snacks and drinks, then waited in the lobby for Sherlock. No sign of him. Then the show started, and they found their seats. Still no detective. John tried to focus on the show, but his mind wandered. Did the experiment really take that long to attend to? Did Sherlock decide to walk to the theatre? Or… Or did he lie when he said he was interested in the show? Part of John’s brain latched onto that idea, but if John had learned anything from working with Sherlock, it was that he shouldn’t guess or jump to conclusions.

“I’m gonna text him,” John whispered to Mariana, who nodded, and he quietly got up and left the theatre. Once in the hall, John took his phone out and called Sherlock’s.

Ring…

“Sherlock Holmes. I’m not available right now. If you have a case, tell me everything important. If you don’t have a case, I probably don’t care.”

John sighed and ended the call. He tried a couple more times, but Sherlock still didn’t answer. John was starting to get worried— even if he was up to his eyeballs in a project, Sherlock would have answered his phone, even if it was just to make it stop ringing. He went to put his phone away, but it buzzed with a text.

[UNKNOWN] Come and find him.

[UNKNOWN] untitled.img

[UNKNOWN] untitled1.img

The pictures almost made John drop his phone. The first one was of Sherlock, bloodied and bruised, knocked out and tied to a chair. It seemed to have been taken in an tube station, but John couldn’t tell which one. There were no visible signs, and the tiles were caked with dirt and grime. The second picture was more confusing. It was a top-down view of two train cars connected by dark purple yarn, with the latter end of the yarn angled down. That was not good.

John hurried back into the theatre, and leaned down to whisper, “we need to leave.” into Mariana’s ear.

“What? Why?” Mariana asked.

“Now, Mariana,” John begged. “Please.”

Mariana sighed but relented, gathering her coat and purse before following John out of the theatre. John handed his phone to Mariana so she could see the messages, and she gasped.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, eyes wide. “How did this happen? He’s usually so careful…”

“No idea,” John said, taking his phone back. He dialed 999 and tapped his foot as he waited for someone to pick up.

“999, how can I h—”

“Hi, yeah, could you put me through to Detective Inspector Lestrade?” John asked. “It’s about Sherlock Holmes.”

The 999 operator sighed but agreed, and John was put on hold for a moment.

“DI Lestrade, ‘ow can I ‘elp?” Lestrade said after the call connected, her Yorkshire accent thick as ever.

“It’s Dr. Watson,” John replied. “Sherlock’s been kidnapped.”

A police car arrived not long after John hung up, Lestrade herself stepping out. John stepped forwards with his hand out, and she shook it.

“Good to meet you, Lestrade,” John said. “Sherlock’s had good things to say about you.”

“Same to you, Dr. Watson,” Lestrade said.

“Call me John, please.”

“Georgia, then,” she said, smiling tightly. “So, show me these texts you got.”

John took out his phone then unlocked it and passed it over to Georgia. She looked at both pictures, then handed it back.

“Any ideas?”

“W-what?” John stared at Georgia. “You’re asking me what to do?”

“Well, yeah.” Georgia shrugged. “Ye work with Holmes a lot, yeah? Y’must have learned some stuff from watchin’ him run around and solve crimes.”

Fuck. Okay. John took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to stay calm. What would Sherlock do if he were here? First thing’s first— consider everything that might be a clue. Sherlock said he’d be taking the tube to the theatre, so it’s likely he was picked up from Baker Street station. Whoever kidnapped him was ready with a clue and a picture of Sherlock, which meant the kidnapper didn’t plan on just killing Sherlock outright— they wanted something.

The picture he’d been sent definitely showed Sherlock in a tube station, just one that looked old and disused. Most likely an abandoned one. If John could figure out which station it was, they could rescue Sherlock.

“Okay,” John said, sounding a lot more calm than he felt, “I’m gonna need a map of the London Underground, including stations that aren’t in service anymore. Sherlock’s being held in a tube station, so he was probably taken from one.”

“Any thoughts as to which station?” Georgia asked, jotting down everything John said.

“Baker Street,” John replied. “He was gonna come here from that station.”

“Right. I’ll see if I can pull any CCTV footage to try an’ fin ‘im. D'you two need a right to yer flat?”

“No, but thank you for the offer,” Mariana said, smiling at Georgia. She nodded back at them, then got in her car and drove off. John took a deep breath, turning to Mariana.

“Right then. Let’s save Sherlock Holmes.”

#submission #sherlock and co #sherlock & co #flashbang event #sherlock homes #john watson #mariana ametxazurra

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mariopop1 · 8 months

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cricklewood1 · 10 months

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Best Waterproofing Services in London

In the realm of construction and home maintenance, the term “waterproofing services” stands as a sentinel against the silent invaders — water and moisture. As unassuming as it may sound, the significance of waterproofing goes far beyond mere protection; it safeguards the structural integrity of buildings, ensuring longevity and habitability. In this blog post, we delve into the world of waterproofing services, unveiling the critical role they play in maintaining the health and durability of our living spaces.

Understanding Waterproofing: Waterproofing is a systematic approach to prevent water infiltration into a building or structure. Whether it’s a residential home, commercial establishment, or an industrial facility, waterproofing services are the frontline defense against the potentially destructive effects of water. The primary goal is to create a barrier that shields the building from water penetration, thereby mitigating the risks of structural damage, mold growth, and other water-related issues.

Types of Waterproofing Services: Basement Waterproofing: One of the most vulnerable areas in a building is its basement. Basement waterproofing involves applying protective measures to the foundation walls and floor to prevent water seepage. This is crucial in averting structural damage and maintaining a dry and usable space. Roof Waterproofing: A leaky roof can spell disaster for any structure. Roof waterproofing involves the application of specialized coatings or membranes to protect the roof from rain, snow, and other environmental factors. This not only prevents water damage but also contributes to energy efficiency by insulating the building. Exterior Wall Waterproofing: Exterior walls are constantly exposed to the elements, making them susceptible to water infiltration. Waterproofing these walls involves applying coatings or sealants to create a barrier against moisture, ensuring the longevity of the building’s facade. Foundation Waterproofing: The foundation is the backbone of any structure, and waterproofing it is paramount. This process typically involves the installation of a waterproof membrane or coating to protect the foundation from soil moisture and groundwater.

Importance of Waterproofing Services: Structural Integrity: Water infiltration can compromise the structural integrity of a building over time. Waterproofing services act as a preventive measure, ensuring that the core structure remains robust and resilient against the corrosive effects of water. Mold Prevention: Moisture is a breeding ground for mold and mildew, which not only poses health risks but can also lead to significant damage to the building’s materials. Waterproofing services create an environment that is inhospitable to mold growth, promoting a healthy living or working space. Longevity of Building Materials: Exposure to water can accelerate the deterioration of building materials. Waterproofing services protect materials such as wood, concrete, and metal from the corrosive effects of moisture, contributing to the longevity of the structure.

Conclusion: In the intricate dance between man-made structures and the forces of nature, waterproofing services emerge as the unsung heroes. From the basement to the roof, these services play a pivotal role in safeguarding our homes and buildings from the relentless assault of water. As we navigate the challenges of construction and maintenance, let us not underestimate the importance of these guardians of dryness, ensuring that our living spaces stand strong and resilient against the test of time.

#professional tile installation #london waterproofing company #floor tiling services #commercial tile installation #residential tile installation

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mythical-moonlight · 5 months

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Golden

St. Cecilia and Wolfgang drabble for @gointothevvater because her character is precious

Wolfgang sat on the floor. The marble was cold beneath him, golden flecks and grout between tiles illuminated by the bright Hollywood lighting of St. Cecilia's makeup vanity. Between his fingers he twirled one of her makeup brushes, the other hand hitting one against the stone ground to keep rhythm with whatever song he had in his head as if were drumming.

Charles had left with the band for a meeting, thirty minutes ago at most. With Wolfgang not being allowed to follow Pickles, he ended up finding the company of Charles' partner instead, though he didn't have much to say towards whatever it was she was doing with the mix of rouge powders and shimmering palettes.

"Wolf," Ceelie spoke up. "Could you be a dear and hand me that?"

He recognized the accent. He'd played enough shows in the heart of London to pinpoint it. It was smooth and melodic like everything else she did. For a moment, he wondered how she even fit in around Mordhaus. How the rowdiness and chaos didn't drive her to the brink of madness.

"Here ya go, sugar'." He hummed, handing over the fluffiest brush and keeping the other one for himself.

"Both of them, please"

"Ain't you got enough of 'em up there? Trynna take away my fun when there's nothin' else for me to do here."

She turned around, platinum ponytail swishing over her shoulder, a curious look on her face.

"Where are you from?" St. Cecilia asked, a small giggle escaping her lips.

The southern drawl Wolf had was undeniably still there, thick as the humidity from the southern states.

"Birmingham, Alabama."

"Alabama? That's a new one." She mused, running a vibrant gloss over her pouted lips.

"Ain't all that bad," Wolf said, beaming up at her. "When people are mindin' their business."

"I see."

And she leaned down, taking the brush out of Wolf's hand herself. He was left with a look of shock on his face and a scoff.

"Now darlin', ya don't need all these damn brushes. Been tellin' you this since I came in he-"

"Just come here and look, Wolf. Stop being so bossy."

He grumbled as he got to his feet, peering over St. Cecilia's shoulder at the collection of fine makeup across her vanity. He didn't recognize a single one of them, too expensive for his tastes. His eyeliner cost about three dollars from a drug store and that's all he knew.

"This one," She said. "Is a powder puff. Charles bought it for me on one of our trips to France. Usually the others come in sets."

It was a white cotton poof with golden filigree on the band of it, and he watched as she batted the rouge onto her cheeks. It must've been fancy because it worked pretty well.

"How d'you know when you're done?" He asked.

"Whenever I'm happy with how I look." She replied, smiling at him in the mirror. "When I look radiant."

Wolf furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of what she said.

"Ain't that just a fancy way to say pretty? Ya always look pretty."

"Aren't you sweet."

"Nah, just southern hospitality."

She shoved him, playful, but it caught him off guard enough to send Wolfgang staggering back. The both of them laughed, St. Cecilia reaching up to tighten her ponytail as they did.

The glimmer of more gold caught his eye. The band around St. Cecilia's neck she wore what seemed to be... always.

"Miss, where'd you get that one." He said, pointing to the jewelry.

St. Cecilia smiled, her lithe fingers brushing against the gold as she admired it in the mirror. She looked to Wolf, whose back was turned to the reflection, but she could still see his cornflower blue eyes looking for answers out of her peripheral.

"It's my collar. A gift from Charles."

Wolf had that confused look on his face again, but when St. Cecilia turned towards him and he could see the collar in it's entirety, it didn't answer anything.

"But miss..." He whispered. "Ya ain't a dog. Do I need to be worried? He ain't treatin' ya bad?"

Wolfgang was concerned, but St. Cecilia just laughed. It added to more of his confusion but he wasn't about to question it since she seemed fine with it.

"No, no. Dear, it's... Personal." She said. "Intimate, if I had to put a word to it."

"Yes ma'am."

He had no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean, but she seemed fine with it. St. Cecilia seemed fine with whatever was gold by the looks of it. A mental note he was making for whatever reason he may need it.

"You know," she said. "You wouldn't look bad with one yourself. I think it would go well with your name."

One of his hands grazed the skin of his throat, the real meaning behind her words going over his head as he chuckled.

"You reckon? Ain't ever thought about it, miss."

"Mhm. Here."

She handed him a different brush this time. One with an iridescent pigment in the fibers.

"Blending brush. The name tells all."

"Oh. Right. All that mess. Yeah, blends 'n whatnot."

#mtl #my mtl #mtl oc #metalocalypse #st. cecilia jameson #Wolfgang Richards

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nuclearforest · 1 year

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the sun chases icarus

Crosspost to AO3 of a fic written at the behest of @zestyaahbutler, @rotten-hearts-sharp-teeth, and @hellogreyeyedathena where my girlboss Hellsing OC beats the shit out of Walter.

TW canon typical violence and torture; word count 4.2k

Walter had intended to avoid Claire for as long as time allowed; preferably until he died. His employer, Arthur, is naturally distant from the haughty misandrist during all interactions and rejects contact with her when at all possible. The butler and middle-aged monster hunter could understand where he got it from. Unfortunately, while the older Hellsing was occupied with his surrogate mother and newborn in the manor’s private chambers, the butler was left to entertain their guest.

She’d been invited to meet the young heir and, naturally, brought blessed gifts.

And when she came, she didn’t even wait to be picked up. She drove straight up to the manor in a rental car. Sweet talked the guards at the gate while they radioed back into the manor proper for clearance for her entry. She made idle chatter as they inspected the vehicle for unauthorized devices. She was far too early; something Walter might’ve appreciated if he hadn’t already started the car to drive into London to fetch her.

Somehow she was up to date on the local league soccer game results, exchanging remarks with the men on duty while he made his way inside.

“And you wouldn’t have believed he would score that goal until he did,” she waves a flippant hand, leaning on the tall walnut-boarded counter. She was a good head shorter than every man there and was dressed head to toe in a matching black and white houndstooth suit. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail with a tortoiseshell clip and when she turned to look over her shoulder at him, her curls bounced. “Well if it isn’t Walter!”

“Takes an American to ruin a Brit’s formality,” one of the men at her side laugh, almost faceless to the butler in his carbon copy suit with a neat Hellsing arm band pinned to place. Around him, the rest of the manor was in perfect order. Sprawling halls lined with artwork and richly papered walls. Early morning sunlight poured through high windows onto the red carpet and white tiled floor.

“Well you can’t quite blame me for my excitement—not every heir is born a girl! Won’t suffer the same hedonistic distractions as you lot.”

The men just guffaw around her, back to the football game from three days ago while they finish her paperwork and fork over a temporary guest badge. “Not all of us are like the Lord,” one of them says with a chuckle. Walter just frowns at the group and sighs.

“I’m afraid the Lord’s hedonistic distraction of the hour is his newborn daughter,” the butler announces, staring down his subordinates until they resume their guard positions along the walls in the reception area. “I will be your company until he emerges.”

The woman nods, flashing him a warm smile. “Maybe you can treat me to some proper tea this time.” Last time she visited was all business, helping assess a local coven for compatibility with the area. Why Arthur simply let them practice instead of banning them outright amounted solely to her meddling. Walter would’ve rid them all without a second thought.

“I suppose that will do,” Walter hums, stepping up to the counter and looking at the older man sitting behind with a logbook and notes for the week. “Send a message to the kitchen prepare a pot of tea, would you?”

The man nods and reaches for the phone. Claire taps the counter and shoots him a smile when he turns to look.

“I’m partial to something fruity, if you have it.”

“I’ll see what we have.” The man’s stoic face breaks into a smile and Walter bites back a sarcastic remark.

“Come along, now, I’ll show you to the parlor.” And with a wave of his hand, his escort duties begin. The blonde follows him down winding halls, quietly remarking about the paintings and greeting passing agents—damn Americans—as they go.

At least they reach the parlor quickly enough and Walter opens the grand old oak door, carved before the turn of the century, and holds it open for her to enter. Inside was a collection of antique furniture from the mid-1700s, excruciatingly maintained. Matching opposing chairs, recently reupholstered in red velvet, sat next to a patterned chaise lounge with a plethora of wooden tables surrounding them.

Forgoing his office, this was one or Arthur’s favorite rooms to make merry with work and with women. Along the wall opposite the door were grand windows staring down at the Hellsing estate. Along the same wall were bookcases with classic literature and crystal bottles of whiskey. At least one wooden carving of a horse to mark the time that Claire had hosted Arthur for the Kentucky Derby.

The same sunlight poured in and illuminated the room without the crystal chandelier over the head. Claire doesn’t even take a moment to savor the opulence of the room and just waltzes in, looking over the décor and humming before picking the seat with her back to the window and dropping down before the butler could even offer.

Just as Walter steps in, another servant arrives with a piping hot pot of tea. “Pardon me,” the young man bids, “but my Lord will be occupied for some time before he is able to see the company.”

“It’s quite alright,” Claire reassures him, crossing one leg over the other and smiling warmly at the man. “Thank you for the tea.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Walter cuts in before he can reply, taking his own seat and shooting the other staff member with a harsh look in warning to leave the dangerous guest to him. In no time at all they are left alone with the quiet click of the door as Walter pours a cup of tea and passes it off to her. Shame she doesn’t pay a moment of notice to the fine bone china with delicate purple florals and gold detail.

But that wasn’t so much the issue.

What was the issue was the look she was giving him: piercing blue gaze watching his pulse throb in his throat. Her face was blank, low wide smile and relaxed posture, slouched over in the antique chair, almost sinking under her weight. She held a teacup in one hand and saucer in the other, legs crossed like she was somehow a lady despite being a raging bitch and unrepentant monster.

It was already irritating that he couldn’t seem to relax around her. That the hair on his neck stood on end and his heart raced the second that damn door sealed them alone together.

“I didn’t think Arthur would make a good father, y’know?” she drawls before taking a long sip and looking just over the butler’s shoulder at the door. The crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes crinkle slightly when her smile broadens and she lowers her cup. “He might beat my expectations yet.” She closes her eyes and leans back a little further. Even the nearby door at his back does Walter no good, feeling his hands twitch while folded in his lap.

Despite being an ally by name, every iota of her person was a threat to his existence and goals.

“Is this why he’s been ignoring my messages?” Walter braces himself.

“You know what he’s like,” Walter snaps, feeling his lip quirk in disgust when she laughs at his reply.

“And that’s why I doubt his parental capabilities.” She laughs, tilting her head back ever so slightly just so her curls bounce behind her shoulders where they’re pinned back.

That was the charm that had Hellsing’s standard staff and agents lowering their guard around her. A motherly, middle-aged woman that could chat and laugh with them like she, too, could relate to their humanity. And yet there was no household to keep. No children at school. No mundane job, even, to keep her busy. She was the head of the American Department of the Supernatural and had been through however many iterations there had been before, generations of humans ago.

Walter’s silence doesn’t deter her. Instead, she just takes another sip and cracks her neck. “You’ll have your hands full with both of them now.”

“I beg your pardon?” He finally bites.

“You know. With the both of them: father and daughter,” she sets her teacup down on the saucer and waves her hand in a circle. “No reasonable man would send a child to do an adult’s work.” Her sharp gaze somehow sharpens then, cutting through his person and sending him back into his younger years. When he was an orphan under the watch of Hellsing, sent out into warzones to be one of the youngest unsung heroes of the war.

“I may as well have been a man myself at the time,” Walter replies, finally reaching for his own cup on a silver tray to his left. The silver cross on a silver chain glints where it hangs at her collarbones. It was a mystery how a werewolf, for all intents and purposes, went unaffected. “I would say he made the right decision.”

Her smile drops and she shakes her head at him. “If you insist. But he’d better not do the same damn thing to that poor girl. If I knew, I wouldn’t have been on the Pacific the whole damn time.” She wrinkles her nose when she looks at him again, uncrossing her legs to let them spread.

How uncouth.

“Wasn’t the first violence I’ve seen and won’t be the last.”

“So the angel of death still flies?”

“As surely as the sun rises.” He narrows his gaze at her and takes a sip of his own cooled cup, hoping to impart some of the same intimidation she lorded over him. Loathe as he was to admit it, he could learn exactly how to project his presence from her. He’d spent so damn long learning how to hide that he’d never learned how to use it to suffocate.

A sharp rap on the door steals their attention. Her eyes flit over his shoulder and he turns his head. An agent quickly opens the door and steps in, suit neatly pressed and horn-rimmed glasses shining in the daylight streaming through the windows at Claire’s back.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he grunts, face serious as he steps over to Walter. Like it matters, the man leans down to whisper and Walter shoots him a glare.

“Remember your company,” he instructs.

“Of course,” the man straightens up, “the young madam is down for a nap and it seems that visiting hours will have to be delayed further.”

“I see.” Walter says.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Claire chuckles, “let the baby get her sleep. We don’t age that quickly.”

“Likewise my Lord has other matters to tend to and entrusts Walter to keep you entertained.” The man bows and turns on his heel before Walter can choke out a reply, vein in his forehead already bulging. Claire’s chuckle blows into a full-bellied laugh.

“He’s still leaving you to fight his battles!” She sits up a little straighter and smirks at Walter. “So how exactly do you entertain?”

The door clicks shut again and Walter resigns himself to his fate. “I don’t suppose you’d like a riveting game of chess?”

“’fraid not,” she replies with a shrug, “I’m a little too uncultured for that.”

Walter suppresses his choke with a slight cough and quickly covers it with a sip of tea.

“And as much as I’d love to walk in the garden, Arthur’s not going to want me snooping around to see what he’s growing. How about we play a different game instead?”

The butler sets his tea aside again and straightens his front, correcting millimeters of fabric out of place. Now this was the danger zone.

“What were you thinking?” his voice is low and he stares at her with his chin held high, defiant where she was likely expecting him to fold. The real chess game of sorts would be dancing around her from whatever she tried to pry. As she noted, the garden and their herbs were off limits, Athur’s orders.

“The Who, What, and Where.” She stops, smirk lowering into a smile.

“And the basis of that is…?” He offers a hand, palm side up, as a gesture of good will.

“I just ask you questions about the who, the what, and the where. It was a popular show around the office for a while,” she shrugs. “All the rage at holiday parties.”

“I see.” Walter stares at her for a solid minute in contemplation. She lets his eyes roam her figure, completely relaxed if not aloof. While tempted to turn her down, he can’t help but dread the next suggestion. If she wants something, she won’t let him go so easily. “I suppose we can play.” He settles back in his own chair, feigning the same level of comfort but with markedly more tact.

“Wonderful. So do you know Millennium?”

His blood runs cold. Her face remains cheerful, casual.

“They were the division of the Nazi military that dealt with the supernatural.” Walter answers curtly. “I dealt with them in ’45.” It takes every muscle in his body to remain even slightly slouched.

Claire nods her head. “Twenty-five dollars for a good answer. I’ll have to spot you later today—I’m afraid I don’t have any cash on me.”

“No need,” the butler grunts out, internally cursing that he didn’t just take her on a walk through the damned garden and couldn’t back out.

She laughs at that. “Well let’s just say you’re all in on the next question then.” She pauses and sips her tea. Walter’s heart almost stutters in his chest, a betrayal. “What is the werewolf project?”

“Their piss poor attempt to make werewolves before they gave up and moved onto artificial vampires,” he answers. His fingers twitch again, but he thinks better than to reach for his cup of tea.

“Gave up?” Claire tilts her head, “Are you sure about that?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I’m the one asking questions,” she corrects, blowing right over him as her smile broadens and her eyes narrow slightly. The cold fingers of fear grip Walter’s stomach. “Twenty-five dollar deduction. Let’s go for the next one—where is Millennium stationed now?”

Walter jumps to his feet. “Are you accusing me of failure?” That’s the first thing he can think to confront her with, but in a flash, what remains of her tea spills all over the Persian carpet and she’s grabbed his neck in one hand, suddenly standing.

His trained eyes are fast enough to catch her movements, but his body is too old to function against something near immortal and unaffected by the march of time. With unnatural strength she lifts him ofrom the ground, muscle suddenly taught under her neatly pressed shirt with the seams threatening to rip.

Sharp canines stand more prominently just behind her lips.

“I wouldn’t say failure,” she slurs out in a half-growl. “Come on, Wally,” she sighs, “it’s scary to be a kid sent into a warzone.”

He struggles to breathe in her grip and raises his hands to uselessly grasp at her arm. Damn the gloves, that don’t let him uselessly dig his nails into her skin. Damn the silver wire, which would have no effect whatsoever on her flesh.

“Try to convince me this time.” She drops him and he lands on his feet, sinking lower to avoid a stumble that would otherwise send him to the ground on his rear. Her smile falls into neutrality, and her once happy eyes are open and cold, scanning his body for every twitch of muscle.

Walter takes her gracious pause to catch his breath, straightening his front again. This time it’s more than a few millimeters out of place.

“Millennium is the defunct branch of the Nazi miliary that specialized in the supernatural,” Walter repeats with a measured voice. “They had two projects—both of which you have reports on. Alucard and I eradicated them. There is no current base of operations.”

“Alucard didn’t eradicate shit,” Claire grunts, cracking her neck again. “He’s the laziest bastard I’ve ever met. And as for you—you were a kid. And I am not a damn fool.” She snorts and the faintest breath of smoke follows. The faint scent of sickly sweet applewood spreads around her and Walter wonders if he could be looking at a demon out of hell. “I won’t be nice if I have to ask again.”

Instead of snapping back that she isn’t nice now—a surefire way to see what interrogation tactics she’d be testing, the butler steels himself. He just has to buy time. It was a mistake to not have a panic button—to be alone—but he was the only one that could take her.

“The Werewulf project,” Walter starts with an emphasis on his pronunciation, “was a failed attempt to create more werewolves. If—hypothetically speaking—a scientist had escaped and resumed work, we would not know what that work entailed nor their current base of operations.”

Claire tilts her head to the side and closes her eyes. Taking this relaxation as a break, Walter takes a silent step to move behind his chair to get something between them and she lunges. He goes down with a graceless thud, wrestled onto his front despite pitting his entire strength against her as she pulls his arms back and folds them across like he were some lowly convict to be arrested.

“Now, hypothetically speaking, if some of my good friends in government had a Werewulf recipe, that would imply the existence of a living scientist.” Claire all but growls in his ear. Her breath tickles the hairs on the side of his head. Her heat and weight on top of him are crushing—she is far more than the average human and now she is bearing her hand. “I’m going to learn everything you’ve got on them.”

She exhales again and a puff of smoke hits his face like she is a raging bull staring down a red flag.

“Think wisely before you try to bullshit me again. You’re not a kid anymore and I’m not as lenient with grown bastards.” The slur of her words make his stomach churn. From the floor, he can only hope the agents heard the commotion. If he screamed, there was no predicting what the wild animal on his back would resort to. Murder was not out of the realm of possibilities.

“I have nothing further to tell you,” Walter snaps only to bite his lip when, with a flick of her finger, she breaks the pinky on his left hand. The crack was not the worst thing he’d heard, but he had only 9 left before she had bigger bones to go for.

“Try again.”

“Go to hell.”

Crack.

He grits his teeth and muffles a cry, writhing underneath her until he can get a grip on himself. His fingers throb and he looks up at the door, somewhat blurred with his monocle having slipped from his nose. Not nearly close enough with the immovable weight on his back. The butler tries for another deep breath and he can feel her stare right through him as he inhales somewhat shakily.

Despite his best efforts, he is not as good as he was in his prime.

“Can’t you respect top secret information?” Walter tries, wincing when her laugh shakes him.

“Not when it’s in my back yard, Wally.” She takes the breaking hand and pats his head, running her fingers through his hair in a way that almost has his heartbeat slowing before she tangles her fingers in it and lifts up. “You ain’t covering for Arthur, here,” she rumbles.

“Weren’t you the one remarking on his competence?”

Claire immediately knocks his head into the floor, nose first. The carpet is not enough to cushion the blow and his nose makes another softer crack. His head starts to spin and blood trickles out onto that same carpet, down his lips and onto the floor.

“You’re awfully callous in the house of your allies,” he grunts.

“You’re not being very allied,” she quips back, flat face reemerging into a smile that Walter can pick up out of the corner of his eye. The throb in his hand and now in his face is a keen reminder that she doesn’t care about the repercussions. It is a sign of feral desperation. It is a monster that turns to the one thing that usually works. He will not let her win.

So he proverbially bites his tongue and settles on the floor. She can beat him further, but she won’t know. He won’t threaten his life’s work over a project he knows nothing about. That’s the least of his worries.

The werewolf gives a pause for his silence, fingers tightening to pull his hair in a way that makes him almost gasp. But like she can feel it she lets him go with a huff and a sneer, glowering down at him with glowing blue eyes and a disgusted quirk of her lip.

The wordless exchange results in another broken finger that has him wheezing, starting to struggle under her body mass as she threatens to crack his ribs when she tests a light bounce.

“Looks like you don’t mind the fingers,” she snarls, “how would you feel about a little lick of fire?” She leans low and huffs in his ears again. This time, thick smoke seems to unfurl from her tongue down his cheek, mixing with his blood and taunting him with that same sickly sweet applewood and a hint of death. Embers leave a near pinch on his skin when they land.

“Doesn’t matter what I tell you,” Walter struggles, ignoring the smell as his hair starts to singe and a sweat breaks out on his skin. Her hand almost burns where she holds his wrist. His whole hand throbs.

Crack.

Another finger and she chuckles darkly above him. “I’m really running out of patience,” Claire slurs, “and I don’t believe in that new age shit like waterboarding.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that’s a mercy?”

“Well, it’s hard to answer when the water is boiling.”

A bead of sweat drips down Walter’s forehead. Claire puts more of her weight on his chest and he struggles to breathe, air hot and dry in a way that burns his throat.

Crack.

The last finger on his left hand. Finally he gasps, heart racing in his chest as he stares up at that piercing blue gaze. The reaper, fueled by the fires of hell, closes in.

“Last chance.” Claire’s voice is almost indistinguishable between the deeper slur and the pounding of his blood in his ears. Walter pants, chest uselessly heaving as she leans down to hiss near his ear again, promising a wicked scorch.

Then, the door opens.

Claire is off his back, warm smile surely on her face. The heat recedes.

In the hallway, Walter looks out at the other agent that just arrived and knows his blood, too, runs cold at the sight of an unrepentant monster. “T—the Lord of the estate wishes to see you,” is all the agent can stammer, wide eyes falling to the not broken but still bloodied man on the floor. When he wheezes without her weight on top of him, he figures she might’ve cracked a few ribs anyway.

“Is that so? What a right shame. Wally and I were having a pleasant discussion.”

The other agent opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head. “Follow me.”

“Will do,” Claire drawls. Walter turns his head to look up at her and her smile widens to a sickening degree. Just as she lifts a foot to step over him, she delivers a swift kick to the ribs leaves a resounding crack and leaves him coughing up blood.

As a final fuck you, she reaches back to crush his monocle with her other foot and walks towards the now terrified agent. The man pulls his gun from its holster and, with admittedly straight aim, orders: “Ma’am step away from the agent.”

“No need for that,” Claire chortles with raised hands like she hadn’t just been on her way to beating him to a pulp. “I’m coming peacefully.”

The other agent bites his tongue but nonetheless leads her out. Behind him, other agents with a medic flood in to tend to him. They had heard the commotion and the interruption took only minutes. Even Arthur’s voice, chastising Claire down the hall for getting rough without him present—was a welcome reassurance that the hard part was over.

In the back of his mind, Walter knew Claire wouldn’t threaten the head of Hellsing, or double back around for him, or even be welcomed on the grounds again while he was present. They had learned. It was a dangerous slip that ultimately costs the butler the dexterity in one hand and a slight imperfection to his otherwise symmetrical face, but it’s the smallest price he can pay for his chance at glory. If anything is suspected by his countrymen, it isn’t brought up.

#hellsing ultimate #hellsing oc #hellsing fanfiction #fire lady claire #mun's snippets #walter c dornez #arthur hellsing #if claire and amulya were in the same universe then claire would divorce arthur for her #and if claire were with sabine or june then their hans' would learn to fear #claire's motto is gaslight gatekeep girlboss #she can and will mother any woman in need of guidance she finds and she LOVES integra and seras

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