#im surprised hes not aware i can and will talk to the uni about his behavior. maybe hes too caught up in making me apologize? maybe. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoekageyama · 4 years ago

Text

cmfrt

yaku morisuke x reader

warnings: nsfw, smut, uhhhh grey sweatpants (ik im sorry ew)

wc: ~3k

a/n: hi hi! this is my first piece, so pls go easy on me ._. this started off as something fluffy bc my desire for yaku content is thru the roof (as it should be), but ofc i got off the rails and went the soft smut route lmao oops. anyway, i hope u enjoy!

~ also! please don’t consume this content if you are not of age, thnx <3 ~

You and Yaku had been best friends for years. Having gone to the same middle school and practically being next door neighbors. Needless to say, you spent a lot of time together; you two were pretty much attached at the hip. So when Yaku told you that he’d also be going to Nekoma for high school, you were pretty excited but not really surprised.

Throughout high school, the two of you spent as much time together as possible, proving to be difficult at times with every ounce of Yaku’s free time being devoured by volleyball and the endless amounts of studying that was required for prepping for uni. All that aside, the two of you always found time for each other. Whether it be little lunch dates on the weekends, small study sessions in the library, or even facetime hangouts when you were both exhausted and too lazy to actually meet up face to face.

It felt like any other Friday when you and Yaku met up in the early morning to walk to school together. “Y/n, did you finish that history report yet? I’m almost done, but I need someone to review it so I don’t look like an idiot when I present on it.” Yaku ran a hand through his light brown hair and looked over to your slightly shorter form.

You turn to Yaku, noticing how his cheeks were slightly flushed due to the cold wind blowing directly in your faces. “Just about. I just need to finish my conclusion, but it shouldn’t take me too long to power through it. Also, yeah, I can take a look at it. No worries.” You turn away after answering the boy, and continue on your walk, thinking that was the end of that conversation. You can feel his gaze on you suddenly, leaving your cheeks to tint to that familiar shade of red. “Thanks. Also… are you free tonight?” he asks with slight notes of hesitation in his voice. You glance at him through the side of your eye noticing his fidgeting hands. “Yea, I’m free. What’s up?”

Without looking at you or answering, he slows his pace until he’s stopped. Standing and gazing out at the trees that lined the roads, watching as the Maple leaves are shed from their branches, showing the first true signs of winter. You stop alongside him and nudge him slightly with your elbow, “Why’d you ask so suddenly, Mori? Something up?”

He jumps slightly being pulled from his thoughts. He glances over at you, “Oh, uh, no reason really. I was just wondering if you’d wanna come over tonight to study and hangout. We can chill and watch movies like the old times. I have the house to myself and all so…” When you see his raised eyebrow and sly smirk grace his features, you feel your face heat up slightly.

You turn to him giggling, “Oooooh, Mori! I didn’t know you could be such a flirt!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and forces you to start walking again. “If that’s what you call flirting, then the guys you talk to must be braindead.” He pulls you a little closer into his chest, laughing along with you now. You nuzzle your head into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, “Of course I’ll come. As long as you treat me to some takeout tonight.” He nods and smiles, looking at your slightly smaller form clinging to his for warmth. “Deal. We can stop by the store on our walk home, and I’ll get you whatever ya want.” You only nod in agreement, leaving the two of you to walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.

As the day moved on, you found yourself getting a bit anxious for your hangout with your best friend. It’s not like you haven’t slept over at his house before. In fact, you and Yaku practically slept at each other’s houses every weekend for as long as you can remember. But what was so different now? Oh yeah, that’s right. It’s because now you were painfully aware of your burning crush on the mighty libero.

The final bell signaling the day’s end rings as you make your way through the double doors of Nekoma. Making your way towards the gym, you see Kuroo and Kai standing by the entrance chatting. “Yo Tets! Kai! You guys seen Mori anywhere?” The two both wave in greeting as you move closer to the duo. “Yea, I think he’s getting changed right now. Should be out in a bit.” Kai states. “You two still aren’t dating yet? You guys act like you're married already.” says Kuroo, rustling your hair. “Oh shut uuuuup already.” you hear Yaku groan from inside the gym. “You’re so worried about our relationship when you can barely hold a conversation with a girl without looking like a nerd.” Yaku scoffs, punching Kuroo’s arm.

The four of you eventually split off into your own groups, making your way home for the weekend. The walk home doesn’t take very long. It’s filled with Yaku telling you about Kuroo’s horrible chemistry pickup lines and complaining about the test you both had coming up. Midway through, you both stopped at the store, picking out ample snacks for your movie night and some dinner for later.

Upon finally trudging through the icy winds, you arrive at Yaku’s house. He unlocks the door, but steps aside to let you in first. “What a gentleman!” you say jokingly as he laughs from your reaction. You slide your shoes off at the door and make a beeline straight for Yaku’s bedroom, plastic bag filled with goodies in hand. Yaku lets out a happy sigh and soon follows suit.

Once in Yaku’s room, you lie face down on his bed groaning. “What’s wrong now, princess?” he asks as he closes the door. Plopping down on the bed next to you with two juice pouches already in hand he nudges you gently to sit up. “I completely forgot to stop by my house to pick up clothes for tonight. All I have in my bag are gym clothes.” you sigh in exasperation as you take the pouch from his cold hands.

“Oh stop. You know you can always just use some of my clothes.” he shrugs while taking a sip of his juice. “I mean.. You’ve done it before. It’s not that big of a deal. I- if you’re ok with it, that is.” he says looking over to you, waiting for your response. You nod in response moving to lie in his lap.

If you didn’t know Yaku well enough, you wouldn’t have noticed the way he tenses slightly, ears the tiniest bit redder than they were moments ago braving the cold of the outside world. “Well then, get me something comfy because I need to get out of this skirt asap!” you say brushing down the edges of your skirt, putting them into place. “I’ll say..” he mumbles. You barely heard it, but it makes your cheeks grow a little red.

After you both finish your drink, you see him disappear into his closet only to emerge moments later with two sets of clothes in hand. He tosses a black t-shirt and a pair of red shorts to you on the bed. Both of which, landing right on top of your face. “I’ll go shower up first since I don’t take ages like some people.” he says with a smirk as he reaches the door.

You giggle hearing his mocking tone “Ok that was one time! And to be fair, it was all your fault. My hair smelled like Yakuult for days after!” He blushes slightly remembering the incident, but chooses to only shake his head laughing to himself as he continues his pursuit for the bathroom.

You lie in his bed scrolling through some app on your phone when you hear the door open. Yaku returns, toweling off his lightly dampened hair, clad in just a pair of grey sweatpants that seem to barely hand onto his waist. You feel your thighs press together tightly as he throws a hoodie on, turning to see your flustered state. “What? Am I too hot for ya?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “Oh shut up!” you groan, rushing passed him and right out the door. You quickly hop into the shower once in the bathroom to cool off your burning cheeks, praying that you can keep it together for the rest of the night.

Soon enough, you’re all dry, dressed, and heading for Yaku’s room. As you close the door, you see Yaku sitting at his desk running his fingers through his hair. Yaku had been working on his history paper while you were in the shower, and it seems he isn’t making much progress. You grab your back and move to sit by him, brushing against his leg with your own on the way down. He feels a shiver rush down his spine at the sudden delicate touch. “You ok, Mor?” you ask when you see him nodding profusely in response. “Yeah just can’t get this paper done. It’s like my mind is racing, but I can’t focus.” You rub his back and lean over to view his paper in front of him. The way you’re positioned isn’t helping Yaku’s brain one bit.

Yaku places a hand on your lower back, ogling at the way your back arches naturally reacting to his touch. He smooths out the back of your shirt, admiring the swell of your ass. He flushes a bit, feeling a dull throb and a tightness beginning to form in his sweatpants, when he notices how short you made the shorts after rolling the waistband up a few times to ensure they’d fit.

You subconsciously rub your thighs together a little while reading through his history report. You hoped that Yaku wouldn’t notice, but unlucky for you he did. He continued rubbing your back, slightly lowering his hand little by little until you felt his rough hand caress your ass. You turned around to look at him, but were met with eyes glazed over in lust. “Hey Mor, you ok?” you ask confused. “I’m fine, baby. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” he says as he drops his hand into his lap in an attempt to conceal the bulge that began growing in his sweats. You shake your head giggling, moving back to your original position next to him. “Nah it’s all good, babe. Just…” you lose all train of thought you possibly had when you glance down and notice the outline of something in his sweatpants. “Hey, y/n, listen. I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I promise. I- I just think you look really good in my clothes…. Sorry.” he quickly spits out.

He began shuffling to get up from you when you reach out and clamp a hand around his wrist. “Why are you apologizing, babe? I should probably be the one apologizing. Especially when you’ve made me like this.” you say bashfully, leading his hand to the wet spot that was now visible in the red shorts you wore. He groaned upon feeling the dampness. “What’s all this, princess? Why so wet already?” he coos into your ear, continuing to rub his rough hands against your clothed core.

After building up the courage to get this far, you threw all caution to the wind. “You, Mori. Fuck! I want you to touch me, please.” you let out a little moan as you palmed him through his sweats. You could tell just how hard he was through his pants. “Fuck, baby, I’ll do whatever you want. Just please let me fuck you.” he groans when you press a little harder onto his hardened cock.

Everything that happened next was a blur. Lips smashed together, tongues dancing, teeth clashing every now and then. You finally part lips, gasping for air as he tugs his hoodie off over his head. You follow suit, removing your shirt and shorts, leaving you standing nearly bare in between his legs as he lounged in his desk chair.

His eyes never leave yours as he unhooks your bra, allowing it to fall to the floor with a thud. His hands smooth over your breasts, rolling and pinching a nipple in between the rough pads of his fingers. He places open mouthed kisses from your jawline down to the swell of your breasts. Leaning back to take in the view once more he groans, saying, “You’re so beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these from me all this time.” you only moan as he moves in to nip at one of your pert nipples. Your hands immediately reach for his light brown locks and begin to tug in response to the stimulation.

His hands move to your lower body pulling off your lace underwear until they drop to the floor. You kick them aside before he grips your hips tightly. “Mo- Mori please, let me ride your cock.” you say through moans as he lightly trails a finger through your soaked folds. He removes his mouth from your chest with a lewd popping sound. He stands up to pull his sweats lower and sits back down in his seat. You take a moment to ogle at the sight before you. His cock, painfully hard, dripping precum from the swollen head. You grab his shoulders and move in to kiss him as his grip returns to your hips.

He hoists you up onto his lap, making you straddle the length in his lap. When your wet core makes contact with the length below you, you let out a lewd moan and grind in his lap. He hisses at the contact and tightens his grip on you to stop you from moving. “Patience, princess.” he groans out as you finally stop your ministrations. He lifts you slightly, aligning himself with your hole before looking up to you for approval. You simply nod your head and lower yourself onto his cock little by little. It isn’t too above average in length, but damn did he make up for it in girth.

You both hiss at the feeling of him being sheathed completely inside your tight cunt, neither of you moving to allow for you both to regain some composure. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight!” he groans, “Just let me know when you want to start moving.” You only nod your head, savoring the delicious stretch in your core.

As soon as you regain your bearings, you look up to him with glazed eyes, “Mori, mo- move please.” He attaches your mouth to his and gently lifts you, gripping your ass tightly. Before long, he let you take control. The pace you set is slow at first while you kiss him tenderly, running a hand through his hair, tugging gently every so often. His cock hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you, causing you to erupt in another lewd moan of his name. You feel him twitch inside you, he speeds up the pace a bit bringing your ass down harder each time he lifts you.

Before long you feel that familiar heat in your core building inside you. “Ah fuck, I’m c- close” you moan out as he snaps his hips up to meet yours. The sound of his balls slapping your ass is nearly enough to set you off, but when he reaches a hand down to place sloppy circles around your clit. The coil of heat building up finally snaps, and you’re thrown head first into the bliss of ecstasy.

Yaku groans feeling you tighten around his length. He continues fucking you through your high, and his pace begins to get sloppy before he pulls out frantically. Before he can ask you, you get on your knees in front of him and take him into your mouth. He hisses at the feeling of your tongue gliding over his swollen head and throws his head back in pleasure. With one hand in your hair, he pulls you lower onto his cock as he bursts ribbons of heat down the back of your throat.

After removing himself from your mouth and tucking himself back into his sweats, he pulls you back into his lap. He places a gentle kiss on your lips, holding you tightly in his arms. “Mori, I’m cooooooold.” you whine into his shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed, huh?”

He moves you onto his bed and quickly disappears to the bathroom. You see him return with a damp washcloth and a cup of water in hand. You let him clean you off as you look around the room for your clothes. “I’ll get you some new clothes ok? Just relax and drink your water while I put these washing.” he says, motioning to the pile of clothes on the floor. He hands you some garments and you quickly get dressed as he moves about the house.

He later returns, only to see you waiting for him with the takeout you had gotten earlier. He plops down beside on the bed for the second time tonight and pulls you into a hasty kiss. “You’re mine, right? I love you so much. I’ve dreamt of this for years. Please stay with me.” he says as he looks deep into your e/c eyes, while cupping your cheeks with his hands. “How can I say no?” you giggle, smashing your lips into his once more before chowing down on your takeout meals. The rest of the night is spent with the two of you cuddled up watching terrible rom-coms. The history report, long forgotten. That can wait for tomorrow.

- again, i’m so sorry at how trashy this is written lmaodfadfj

- if u did read it tho, tysm! ily & maybe send me some suggestions on what to write next. i’m down for whatever rlly. i’m trying to write more often so this is kinda just a warm up for now.

#yaku #yaku morisuke #yaku x yn #yaku x reader #yaku morisuke x reader #yaku morisuke x yn #yaku smut #yaku morisuke smut #all these tags make my head hurt #hoekageyama #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x yn #yaku.txt #hq.txt #hq_xx.txt #maddlibs

329 notes · View notes

dewykth · 4 years ago

Text

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

317 notes · View notes

propertyofwicked · 5 years ago

Note

Your a-z s are so good!! Omg you’re so talented☺️ could you possibly do one for George? We would all love that💕

thank you anons for these requests. im quite busy atm so im sorry if other requests take a while and thank you for being patient with me.

a-z of dating george mackay

a - argue

neither you or george are shouters, instead you go very quiet when something goes wrong or upsets either one of you. george would huff and mumble, until one of you grew the balls to talk through the issue. you’d be sat on the sofa and he’d just come and sit facing you, taking your hands in his and press his lips to them softly. this was his way of saying he was ready to talk.

b - body (his favourite body part of yours)

george loves your lips and your cheeks. he loves watching you talk, how your mouth moves and he loves how effortlessly your voice tumbles out. he loves how your smile grows when you laugh, small dimples forming in your cheeks - it was enough to make him smile with you. he loves to kiss your lips and your cheeks. whether it was a quick peck here and there or when he’d push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t breathe. he loved to kiss your lips till they went redder and more plump.

c - care (caring for each other when you’re sick)

when george is ill, he pulls you back into bed anytime you get up, claiming he’s cold and needs your body warmth. whilst you’d comply, you also had stuff you needed to get on with. so you’d sit next to his sleeping figure, trying to quietly type on your laptop or write into your notebook. when you’re ill, george waits on you all day. he’d constantly ask if you needed a drink or food and if you’re being sick, he’ll follow you to the bathroom and hold your hair back. he’d gently rub small circles into your back and carry you back to your bed, when you were too weak to walk alone.

d - dates (what do you guys do?)

being an actor, george loves to take you to the cinema to watch new films that he’d seen about, or heard about at awards nights. sometimes, you’d go and see films that his friends or previous co-workers were in. you’d share popcorn and he’d let you rest your head on his shoulder whilst his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. afterwards, you’d maybe go out for dinner or to a coffee shop, and he’d love to have a discussion with you about the film, what you liked and didn’t, the directing, filming, acting. by the end of the evening, the entire film would’ve been deeply analysed by the two of you and you’d have it no other way.

e - engagements (how he proposed)

he’d take you out to dinner, to celebrate your birthday or anniversary, and after the meal, you’d take a walk back to your flat or the car. but, then he’d take a diversion and say he just wanted to show you something. next thing you know, you’re standing on the rooftop of the cafe you met, staring up at the stars. whilst you were looking away, he’d get down on his knee and then cough slightly to gain your attention. he had planned a small little speech, which went the window the moment you turned around. he tells you how much he loves you, what he loves about you, what he sees in the future for you two, and you can’t help but say yes.

f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)

george’s family were initially weary of your relationship. not because they didn’t like you, but because of how long george spent away from home working. they feared you would both end up ending it soon because you couldn’t cope. as soon as they met you, however, they saw how relaxed george was - different to his typically stressed exterior. when he was away, his mum invited you round for dinner, and his sister was similar in age, so you had a lot in common.

your family feared he would be a distraction from your studies, but once they saw your relationship thriving, they had no fears. your dad liked that he was politically aware and into football, whilst your mum liked the fact he was active in feminism (#pussypower)

g - gifts

when george went away for filming, he’d bring you home stuff. they could be really simple, such as local delicacies or fridge magnets. something simple, that was a small reminder of him every time you opened the fridge.

h - how you met

you met in a cafe. you were sat in the corner, typing away at a script you were working on, nothing official just something that kept you occupied. he happened to take the table next to you and notice you furiously typing away your ideas, jotting down notes in the book next to you. he stood up and walked over to you.

“um, hi. i’m george.”

“hi?”

he told you about him being an actor, asked what you were working on and then asked to read. he complimented your work, and you gave him your number to “keep him updated and ask for advice”. he made a habit of going back to the cafe every day that he could, just to see you. he’d take a seat opposite you and didn’t mind when the two of you sat in silence.

i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down)

oh that man may seem innocent, but he will take you any time, any where. when he came home, the first thing he’d do is take you to your bedroom. he’d go slow savouring the moment - similar to how he would be the night before he had to leave. and the morning. and maybe before he got in the taxi. and then maybe he’d send you some suggestive texts. he lead you to toilets at awards shows for a quickie, or just lay you down on the sofa and go to town.

j - jealousy

when you come to set, some of his male co workers got a little bit close. when you were gone, they’d make jokes to george - he laugh outwardly but inside he was seething. it was easy to feel jealous of people you interacted with when he was away, much as it was for you to be of him working with loads of people, that his character was physically intimate with. however, it didn’t take much for either of you to remind the other of your love ;)

k - kinks

idk if this is a kink but hickies. george loves to litter your neck, chest, stomach and inner thighs with small bruises. he loves seeing a quick flash of the marks whenever your shirt rides up, or your towel exposes a few. he very much loves to mark his territory, as much as likes to see marks you’ve left on him.

l - long distance

a lot of your relationship had been spent long distance, with him working away for 1917 and then the history of the ned kelly gang. every night, you facetimed, till one of you fell asleep, but you’d mostly just do your usual evening routine, just hundreds of miles apart. you’d cook your dinner at the same time, shower, and then sleep. it felt as if you were together, just through a screen. you were obviously limited to what you could do but there was many things you could do to replace what was physically missing. it didn’t take a massive toll on your relationship, but george found it really hard to see you struggling and knowing he couldn’t be there to help - and vice versa.

m - moving in

george asked you to move in, over facetime, whilst he was away filming 1917. he said he wanted to come home to your face every evening, and his flat wouldn’t feel like home without you there. his flat was closer to your uni/work place as it was, so even though you were quite early on into your relationship, it was ideal. whilst he was away, you kept the flat in order every time george came home, he damn near welled up at the thought of you being there waiting for him, in difference to the usual cold, empty flat.

n - nights out

being a student, you went out a lot with your friends. often when george was away, so he’d be delighted to wake up to barely legible texts from you. when he was home, however, the two of you found yourself going to a local pub with dean and some of your other friends and taking part in the pub quiz or darts. sometimes you’d just watch the game that was on.

o - open with each other

initially, you both found it hard to talk to each other, but as all good people do, he had a catharsis. he broke down, relaying all his stresses onto you, to which you comforted him and talked him through it. he can sense when your bottling it up, and even though you’re not massively open with him naturally, he knows when to ask you to talk, and you do, knowing he will be there to support you.

p - pda

george isn’t a massive fan of pda, but he would hold your hand when you walk through town, and when you accompanied him to award shows, his hand would be firmly stationed on your lower back, his fingers rubbing small circles. he’d press soft, small pecks onto your cheek, or your forehead or sometimes, just the simplest act of raising your hand and kissing your knuckles softly would be enough to comfort you.

q - questions (what you talk about late at night?)

you talk about your day usually. it’ll start of as being, “i cant sleep” which will then turn into either one of you starting to talk about something funny that happened or just an overview of how your day went. this would go on until you managed to fall asleep, you soft breathing lulling george into his own sleep.

r - reproduction (do you want kids?)

george wants kids, in fact he definitely has notes on his phone of baby names that he wants to bring up with you. however, he respects your decisions and only wants what you want. he lives by “her body, her decision” but it is something he will ask you one night, casually. to which you respond however you feel.

s - surprising (what surprised you about him)

he loves to dance. if a song is playing in the background or on the radio, he’ll stand up and dance. in the kitchen, he’ll take a wooden spoon and sing into it. then take your hand and twirl you around. he loves to slow dance with you under the stars and he loves to rock out with you, with air guitars and all.

t - together (what you do together)

as said before, you watch a lot of films and programmes together. you also write a lot together, carpooling ideas into scripts or stories. his imagination is phenomenal. sometimes, you’d go on road trips, and he’d have control of the aux. he’d play songs to you, to see if you knew them, and he’d serenade you with ABBA non stop. anything you did was made 10x better when you did it together.

u - under the influence (drunk vibes)

drunk george is the softest man alive. he just wants to cuddle and tell you how madly in love he is with you. he’d press kisses all over your face and then pull you in close, to squeeze you tightly. when you’re drunk he loves to watch you get up to your antics, only intervening when it got dangerous or illegal. drunk together was a whole other force to be reckoned with. you’d both be doing stupid stuff until someone else had to step in. drunk you and sober you were both madly in love with george, just sober you was more willing to show absolutely everyone.

v - vacations

george definitely takes you to an island somewhere, like malta. or maybe he’d take you to a greek island. you’d spend the entire time exploring the city or the local markets, soaking up the local atmosphere and the sun. he’d defo get all artsy, taking photos of you from behind as you walked, the sun shining down on you angelically.

w - wedding

the cutest wedding ever. no cap. outside, in summer. you’d chosen a outside area, like a greenhouse kinda room, surrounded by the most beautiful flowers. the reception was afternoon tea in a little marquee. the next day, you had a family meal, where your two families came together to celebrate the two of you.

x - xray (when he’s hurt)

let’s say he injured himself on the set of 1917. a piece of rubble in the bunker scene fell and trapped on his arm, cutting it wide open. whilst it didn’t put him completely out of working, it did require him to go to hospital for stitches. it happened that you were on set on these days so accompanied the whole way. you held his hand as the nurse gave him stitches, and though he didn’t look scared of the needle, you could tell he was slightly panicking at the size. you walked with him back to the trailer where dean sat waiting, laughing slightly has a pale george sauntered up to him, you pulled into his side.

y - you (a random headcanon)

imagine that you both innocently take a shower together. “saving water” or something like that. george would spend his time massaging shampoo in your scalp and then brushing his fingers through it as the water washed it out. he’d turn around and you lather him in soap, your hands rubbing his shoulders, tense from a week of working. it wasn’t much but it was the little things that allowed the two of you to wind down at the end of a busy week.

z - zzzzzzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)

whilst you wouldn’t admit to being tired, george would watch you as you sat next to him, your eyelids falling heavy and your blinks getting longer and longer. he’d stand up himself, then hold out his hand for you to take. you’d follow him up the stairs and whilst he was brushing his teeth, you’d change into your pyjamas and then you’d swap. as you wander back into the room, george would hold out his arms for you to climb into, your head burying into the crook of his neck. nights like this, it was easier to fall asleep quickly.

#1917 #george mackay #george mackay imagine #george mackay x reader #will schofield #will schofield x reader #will schofield imagine #dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman smut #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman x reader #tom blake #tom blake x reader #tom blake imagine #Sam Mendes #the history of the ned kelly gang

361 notes · View notes

kendrixtermina · 3 years ago

Text

So, someone recomended me to check out this blogger and while he clearly finds some types more charming than others (was his ex gf a particularly arrogant 4? That, or his least favorite parent...) there is some rly useful info in this guide actually...

1s do indeed not smile unless theres a reason...

i dont know any 2s well enough to confirm the observations here but it rings true...

3s do indeed quickly start talking about their projects and sometimes you can indeed spot them from just the smile. We had that one presenter in our uni course that was very, very obvious.

Formulated more diplomatically, if a pronounced introvert shows up with bristly guarded energy & makes some contrarian comment, they’re definitely a 4 cause 9s don’t typically do this

I would describe this as being somewhat more absolute in their judgements, like my friend would say, “ppl who wear fashionable makeup are shallow!” as a blanket statement, where I would’ve slapped some qualifiers on it so as to as not to say something incorrect (Some are shallow, especially the particular ppl we were mad at, but every single one? Probably not, and besides, I don’t know every single person with fashionable makeup well enough to speak confidently of their character.) - it needn’t even be a strong opinion; She’d just be incensed about the shallowness in society at that particular moment & having an emotion about it.

I had made some collages & a video which I considered sending in once i came by some $$ but i think i can save myself the trouble cause when i looked at the video watching for these criteria (the clip was made before i looked at this list, of course), i noticed that i did the supposedly 5-typical side glance, topic changes and interspersed jokes so darn often i might get self conscious about it... also, off pointe? rude! ...laugh at my nerd jokes please i dunno how else to make light conversation

this sounds like his gf is a 6.

...that one 6 i know does giggle a lot though

and talk in a shrill voice when complaining, but we usually deserve it for overstraining her patience

i have to watch for the “microexpressions of surprise” next time we meet in meatspace

very little stuff on 7s here though.

the 8 stuff is pretty useful actually, particularly that bit about how they talk less & more short/direct compared to a cp 6 - i think i know exactly whats meant here

theyre on a crusade to raise awareness of more strongly introverted 9s - but, those are definitely a thing. hm. ill need to watch for all this...

its definitely true that you dont find out their opinion unless you wait/ask for it, or they’re very frustrated.

thats definitely another distinguishing point vs. type 4. If they have opinions about video games or some elaborate fantasy it would be one of the first things you hear/ a go-to conversation topic, whereas with a 9 with the exact same hobbies you might see them playing games or offhandedly mentioning fantasy stuff but you won’t hear the contents until you’ve known them a good while, if you put in the work to level up your friendship level, and even then they’ll narrate instead of rant unless they’re very frustrated. thats cause it serves mostly an internal purpose while the 4, as an image type, would show it (though they prolly wouldn’t consciously think of it as ‘showing’ & more as bursting out because whatever thing that sucks sucks so intolerably)

i admit im not the best bodylanguage observer i dont notice this stuff unless its obvious or i already know to look for it, with some of the points i cant identify what they mean. This is probably immensely more useful if youre a Sensor on the mbti

EDIT: The podcast liked on their site is very good!

#enneagram

3 notes · View notes

itsmattsunshinehere · 5 years ago

Note

So here goes nothing....😅😅😅 I have thought of a scenario where a student is studying marketing and has offered herself to promote karasuno's volleyball team. And as she is working with them she makes friendships and developed crushes and love and all that good stuff. With a lot of fluff please.♥️😋♥️ If u can't that's just fine still will love everything you put out your so talented and I love you♥️♥️♥️♥️

Okay so first IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG PLEASE DONT HATE ME 😫😫

I had some difficulties writing it because I didn’t know if you wanted reader to come from Uni or simply Karasuno. You also talked about developing crushes and Im a fool for Daichi so yeah it turned out as a Daichi x reader lol But feel free to ask for another one if you don’t like it!! Thanks for your request, you’re so kind and honestly I think there are people here on Tumblr more talented than me but omg thank you I love you please let me know what you think!! 💘💘💘

-L

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Sweet lovin’.

Sawamura Daichi x reader.

synopsis: just Daichi helping you open a letter from your University.

word count: 1.6 K

tags: fluff

~~~

"C’mon Y/N, open it!" the boy on your right encourages you.

You're a little anxious, your hands are shaking slightly while you carefully unlock your phone. You can't calm down: you know how important is that email, you've been waiting for two weeks now. You open the inbox, but immediately lock the screen, not feeling brave enough.

You knew that getting into the university you were aiming to wouldn't be that easy, so you immediately took as many courses you could to prepare for the various entrance tests you’d have to do. Even so, when you found out you had to bring a completely new and original project, (the promotion of a product completed with data and graphs concerning sales), you were quite surprised not expecting it and soon you started panicking as you saw the million challenges you’d have to face, not to mention all the pressure you felt: after all it was the task you would have to submit if you wanted to be admitted to the marketing courses in what could be your future University (if you made it).

You are resolute and organised, you’ve been making plans for your future since you were really young, thinking about what your job would be when you grow up. You've always liked to read and recommend books to your friends or parents, so you decided to work for a publisher and evaluate which manuscripts to publish and which to discard. But it is clear that to do such a job you also need to know how to sell a product: it is therefore essential for you a degree in Marketing and Communication. You had calculated everything, down to the smallest detail, and yet in front of that email just over two months ago you had trembled, finding yourself deadly worried. On the other hand you had never done anything like this, starting from scratch, without anyone’s help and that’s what was most likely to have determined your admission.

For days you were scrambled to come up with an idea that could represent you 100%, and then you found yourself one day in the school gym in front of the entire men's volleyball team, on the orange flyer in your hands it was written in capital letters "LOOKING FOR HELP FOR OUR MANAGERS."

"Help us grow! If you are interested, come look for us: Sawamura Daichi (3rd year, section 4); Shimizu Kiyoko (3rd year, section 2)."

You immediately saw the opportunity behind that simple piece of paper. You had found your "product" to advertise, it was the opportunity you were looking for and you could not let it got; that's why you let instinct take over you and you headed straight to the gym; you hadn't given it too much thought, knowing too well that if only you'd stopped for one more moment to reflect, you'd only come out with more doubts.

You were presented to your "project" and they had welcomed you with open arms, especially Nishinoya and Tanaka, happy to have more people in their big family and that could lighten the load of work for Kiyoko and Hitoka. Although at first you had no intention of becoming a manager of Karasuno, day by day you had bonded more and more with those guys, finding yourself one day crying in front of everyone because of how boded you were when Hinata gave you with a beaming smile the team uniform. You had learned to appreciate each one of them, everyone with their own special personality, trying to help them as best you could during their training: several times you happened to assist Kageyama and Hinata till late and help them improving their spikes, or healing the wounds and bruises that Noya got, not to mention all the afternoons spent trying to comfort Asahi, in an attempt to raise his self-esteem a little. Then along with Hitoka and Kiyoko you draw posters and opened a fund for the team, you created a page on Facebook by posting constant updates, just as you had created a Twitter profile where only the three of you, Daichi, Suga and Professor Takeda had the access (coach Ukai refused to take part in something that complicated). You saw how slowly your crows got up again attracting more and more attention, just as you had seen your project take shape and come true.

After about a month of joining the team, you had taken the train to Tokyo along with the three third year and Kiyoko, who had decided to come with you to bring all the necessary documents for the application and the eventual registration. Careless as you are, you would surely have got lost, that's why Suga asked you if he could join you and after hearing him, the others had also offered to keep you company along the way.

Finally, another email had arrived on your phone: for three days you did not even look at your inbox, too scared to find out that you had been refused. Not to mention that of all the possible days Suga, being aware of your crush on the captain, had decided that today was the best day to give his contribution and leave you alone with Daichi to tidy the gym putting the last things in place, hoping that you will muster up courage to take the first step and confess. It’s obvious saying that his hopes are unfortunately misplaced.

Daichi, being the kind person he is, seeing you more nervous than usual asks you if you had heard from the University and suddenly you turn pale, telling him all your concerns.

"Good heavens Daichi, I can't do it, please look instead!" you beg the boy by your side. You have the feeling that, if it’s him the one who's telling you you've failed, it's going to hurt less than reading it with your own eyes. The captain picks up your phone with one hand and yours with other, making you blush instantly.

You don't know how or when you started having feelings for him, you only know that at some point you started paying a lot more attention to what he told you and noticing all the details of his face: how he purse his lips when he scores a point, how he snaps his tongue with frustration when during training he fails to serve or receiving Asahi’s services. Of course, you immediately tried to hide it all, choosing to focus on the first years and prevent Tsukishima and Kageyama from biting each other’s face off.

"You have to tell me the passcode, Y/N." he replies with a chuckle, trying to calm you down by caressing your hand in circular movements, causing the opposite effect.

You feel your heart beating wildly, you're not used to having so much skinship between you two, neither being so close with him. Of course, it had happened other times that accidentally in removing the net he touched your hand, but you always tried to pretend as if nothing happened, obviously failing: Tsukishima and Sugawara immediately understood that you had feelings for him, as well as Kiyoko, who immediately encouraged you along with the setter.

You give him the password and watch him carefully swipe his fingers across the screen, opening the inbox and reading the email carefully. After what seems like centuries, he rolls his eyes towards you and with a smile he turns your phone towards you. You rip it out of his hands and read until you find the magic word: ACCEPTED.

"You made it Y/N, you got accepted." He congratulates you and, in a moment of pure euphoria, you throw your arms around his neck, clutching him as tightly as you can as he bursts out laughing and hugs you back.

You feel so comfortable in his muscular arms, you feel warm, feeling almost as if you were home. You would never want to move away, but after a few seconds you two separate, you redder than ever, while he looks at you, smiling, holding once again your hand with his and you look down on the ground regretting being so careless.

"Sorry, I didn't want to jump on-" You interrupt as soon as Daichi raises your chin and brings your face close to his, looking into your eyes, his lips brushing yours, softly, delicately, kindly, almost as if he's afraid of breaking you.

When you separate you look at him surprised, with your mouth agape, unable to say anything, because DAICHI JUST KISSED YOU. You are speechless, trying to understand that what just happened is not a mere dream. The boy meanwhile waits for your reaction, but seeing that you are still silent he lets out a laugh, rather embarrassed by all that courage he showed you just now.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I don't know what’s gotten into me. I'm sorry I should have told you first, but you know I like you so much that seeing you-" he tries to explain you, but you interrupt him right away.

"You what?!" you ask him, your eyes wide open, as he looks at you even more nervous than before, he just wants to sink and disappear sucked into the ground.

“Yes, I've liked you for a while, I thought I'd tell you one of these days. I thought it was pretty obvious..." He tells you, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. You suddenly take the other hand.

“I like you too!" you say with a smile. You remind him so much of a little girl who just got the gift she wanted for her birthday. He can't help bursting out laughing again seeing your happy eyes, wrapping you again with those arms you love so much.

“That’s good, you know? I was dying of shame." He whispers sweetly in your ear, while you smile, letting yourself sink in the warmth of his embrace, chuckling back.

#anime #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haiky?!!#daichi x reader #hq daichi #daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi sawamura x reader #karasuno x reader #karasuno #karasuno daichi

79 notes · View notes

mintseesaw · 6 years ago

Text

Written in the Stars | one

Pairing: taehyung x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, dad!au

Word count: 6k

Warning: none

Description: read here (link in bio)

“I know, Mom. I’m about to leave.” You're on the phone with your mom, she’s reminding you about your trip to your hometown, your eyes skimming through the things you’re going to bring, making sure that nothing is forgotten.

You zipped the travel bag open, checking specifically the treats you bought yesterday in the nearby convenience store for your nephews. Joo Woon and Seo Joon are in a sugar diet but it doesn’t hurt if you spoil them once in a while.

“Okay, dear. Give us a call once you arrived at the station, I’ll ask your brother to pick you up.”

Your movements halted for a second at the mention of your brother.

“He’s home?” Since he got into uni, you rarely get the chance to see your little brother. You couldn't even admit that you miss that little punk who used to call you every time he asks you for a favor--more like when he needs money for his luxuries.

“Oh, he is. I threaten to cut his allowance off if he does not go home this weekend.”

Your eyes rolled at your mother’s remark. Indeed, she always has her ways in everything, including your trip to Daegu today.

“Mom, let him be. At least, he’s studying well. Anyways, don’t worry about me, I’ll just ride a bus or something.” You zipped it shut then hooked it on your shoulder as you sauntered your way out of the bedroom towards the sofa in the living room.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You know my brother, mom. Yeonjun will only ask me a favor in exchange of driving me home.”

She chuckled and you can just picture her shaking her head. “Alright. Take care, dear.” Your thumb pressed the end call button then slipped the device inside your pocket.

You didnt fill your hand carry full as you don’t need a lot of clothes to change into. Also, you have remaining clothes kept somewhere in your drawers back at your parents’ house so you don’t necessarily need much.

Today’s your first Saturday to spend it back at home, first of the many coming weekends. You’re not a morning person, and if it werent for your agreement with your mom, you would have still been sleeping at this point.

The car ride to the train station was short giving you an ample of time left for you to catch the closest trip to your hometown. And as you saunter your way inside, you’re not expecting anything less than a crowd swarming within the pavement.

In no time, you have made your way to a ticket booth, purchased a ticket and settled in your seat indicated in the ticket receipt. Among the two pairs of seat facing each other, the one to your right and the pair across yours have yet to be occupied. And as you wait for the clock to strike at the time the train will leave, your eyes scan the confined space, eyeing the passengers who have also settled in like yourself before they unexpectedly land on a pair of a tall, young man and a little girl whom you assumed his daughter.

Although they have yet to reach near where you are, you could still make out the displeased expression of the man. The little girl, on the other hand, is half-sprinting ahead of him and you concluded that the action stirred the reaction present on the young man’s face. He tried to garner her attention by calling her name which you had failed to hear through the collective sound of chattering passengers. Instead of making her turn around to face him, he gains some of the passengers’ attention, heads glancing in their direction to which he bowed his head apologetically for creating an unnecessary noise. For you, it wasn’t the noise that made them turn their heads at him, it was probably his voice.

Wasting no time, in three long strides, he was able to reach for her tiny hand, taking it securely in his large one, making sure the little girl will no longer run naughtily. Once she snapped her head up and had a glimpse of his face, it’s as if she already knew she did something unpleasant. Her face fell, letting her father take her wherever their seats are without a protest. You were half-expecting for them to pass by your seat so when the same man halted his steps next to the seats across from yours, you slightly straightened your back, gathering they must be occupying of the seats across yours.

His nearness allowed you to examine him clearly and the first thing your scrutinizing eyes have landed on is his hair. It was not short, but not too long to be able to tie it up in a bun. Your eyes then traveled down his deep set of brown eyes to his pointed nose, to his pink, supple lips— you abruptly jerk your head away when you realize you’ve been staring far too long to be considered rude. You silently hoped he didnt notice that, lowering your head in utter embarassment. That‘s how you noticed your phone clutched securely in your palm.

You opened it and directed your gaze at the device, mindlessly scrolling through a social media app you just tapped, shaking away the urge to peer at the two figures in front of you.

After they had settled down, and made sure his daughter is comfortable enough, the handsome man crouched down to his daughter's eye level. Talking to her in a low voice so no one could hear it. The proximity between your seats and the wavering commotion allowed you to hear it, whether you want to or not.

"Do you promise not to do it again?" Asked in a low but deep whisper.

You heard his voice earlier, but now that you can hear it clearly and this close, it surprised you how his voice seemed deeper than you expect it to be. Not only his physical features made him a head turner, but his voice could as well. You know for sure.

The kid avoided his gaze then said, "Daddy, I want to eat." She was completely ignoring his father’s warning. And she was trying to get away with it.

"We just ate before we got here, didn’t we angel?" His forehead creased in doubt of his daughter’s claim. She was silent, blinking innocently.

"We didnt bring food though. Can my baby wait until we reach granny's house?" He softly coaxed, praying she would understand that there’s no way they would get anything to eat inside the train. He then clips some of her hair behind the shell of her ear, consoling her to her little dilemma.

"But Daddy, I'm hungry." Whines the little girl, although her pronounciation is clear and her verb communication skills are noticeably developed enough to voice out her thoughts straight into a clear message rather than saying it in chunks of phrases. Maybe she’s above the age of three.

"Didn't we just eat, angel? You're hungry again?"

She nodded vigorously, as if to prove a point. He looked helpless for a second.

It was during that moment when the train moved.

His features fell into a worry one. His goal to scold his daughter, long forgotten and washed away with concern. "Are you sure?" You heard his daughter whines again. You couldnt watch the scene continue to unfold anymore. And before you even register what you’re doing, you’re already interrupting their conversation.

"Uh— excuse me," the moment you spoke, it was an instant reaction of him to snap his head towards you. His daughter quietly peered at you. He straightened his back as he waits for you to continue talking, “Im sorry, I didn't mean to listen to your conversation. I heard... uhm your daughter... I have treats here, I'm not sure if you allow her to eat sweets—" he cuts you off politely. Your cheeks heating up when he didn't let you finish.

"No, it's fine Miss..." he trailed and look at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell your name.

"YN,"

You’re embarrassed for what you did that your mind is tricking you when you saw his eyes glinted by the mention of your name.

"... Miss YN, I mean, you didn't have to." He offered a smile and you’re not sure if it’s in response to your offer or a consolation to your flushed face.

"I was just considering that the journey will take more than 2 hours. And we just left Seoul..."

You waited as his eyebrows meet, pondering over the situation. It wouldnt upset you if he wouldnt accept it, since you’re a stranger and if youre in his shoes, it would be reasonable enough to second doubt a stranger’s intention.

He heaves a long sigh, raking his eyes to his daughter’s figure. If it weren’t for his daughter, he’d be too shy to accept anything from anyone.

"Okay, but please let me replace it once we get there."

You shook your head, “It's alright. I can just buy another."

"For your kids?"

Your mind momentarily went blank, suddenly losing the ability to process and comprehend a question.

"What?"

"The sweets."

Then it clicks in your mind. “Oh!" You chuckled, then briefly corrected his query, "...nephews."

This time around, it is his turn to blush. The faint crimson tinting his cheeks made him no less than the attractive man that he is. He looks dashing, regardless.

"Right, I'm sorry for assuming. I shouldn't have asked in the first place."

You didnt speak, but offered him a polite smile in reply. Your hand went to the small travel bag which you placed to the empty seat beside yours, lightly rummaging through the contents inside well aware that you’re under the scrutiny of two sets of eyes, watching your every movement in pure curiosity.. It shouldnt take you long to find it since you put them on top of the clothes. The familiar touch of the plastic wrapper made its way to your palm and you pull one out, and hand it over to the little girl.

His daughter, whom you heard her father called her Jae hya, looked at him as if to get a consent before accepting the treat from your hand.

He nodded and mouthed a ‘Thank you’ towards your direction before glancing back at her daughter, ‘What will you say to Miss YN, angel?”

Blinking a few times, she answered shyly in her cute adorable voice, “Thank you, Miss YN.”

“Just YN please,” you softly said then laughed a little before continuing, “and you’re welcome.”

Silence filled the air after the small interaction, to which you used the opportunity to divert your attention back to your phone.

The only time you dared to look up at him again is when he introduced himself out of nowhere.

"Taehyung,"

Your eyes instinctively flicked up at the sound of his deep and thick voice and met his intense gaze. His hand held out across the rectangular platform which created a little distance between your seats. Your eyes travelled from his eyes to his palm pushed forward in front of you, you stared at it for a second admiring how impressively large it is compared to yours before accepting the handshake. The warmth of his hand felt contrastingly good to the cold temperature inside the train. But then the moment ended shortly as you took your hand back quickly, startled by the sudden faint cold enveloping in your spine as his long and slender fingers made contact to your slim ones.

Sensing your awkwardness in the situation he cleared his throat as if to ease the strange tension between you, pulling himself back to his seat. Your head tilted on your left where the clear window allowed you to watch the blurry view outside. There’s nothing entertaining or astonishing in the view that can prolong your attention there, but you could just pretend to be immersed with it if it’s the only way to escape the chance of getting an an eye contact with him.

He was not intimidating at all. In fact, he’s polite and seems like a good father. The smile on his face while you were conversing with him is surprisingly sincere. But the rational in you tries to disregard the certain pull that’s accentuating in him.

Why would he waste his time to you? You’re someone he personally does not know of as well as he is for you.

But...is it wrong to appreciate his perfect exterior features? After all, he’s just not simply beautiful. The word alone would not give justice to describe him. He can be likened to an ethereal creature whom god generously gifted too much of all the good physical attributes that one human can have.

And when he stared at you—the intensity that his eyes hold when he sets them on you, it was too much to just let him rest them on you while your insides are melting. You try to shake away the emerging attraction.

Isnt it too soon for that?

He’s just a stranger— a passenger travelling from Seoul to Dongdaegu station which also happens to be where you’re boarded into, and whom his seat is across yours. That’s just it. You’ll never see him again. The thought becomes your internal mantra the whole journey in order to dissipate the agitated feeling inside you that one could mistakenly concluded as a look of indifference while you motionlessly peer at the window.

Two hours and more had passed and the train stopped to your destination. During the whole ride, you were not even spared a single wink of sleep from the mere presence in front of you. His eyes are shut when you stood up and walk towards one of the exit doors, unsure if he spared you a glance during the rest of the journey. It shouldn’t matter anymore because you wouldn't see him again. And the embarrassing act which hinted your little act of eavesdropping to their personal conversation should be buried deep in your memory lane where you can’t remember it forever.

“YN!” Your mom exclaimed happily when she opens the front door, greeting you with a warm hug.

It was more than four weeks ago when she paid you a visit in your place in Seoul and it was the last you’ve seen of her until today. You hugged her back.

“Come, let’s eat. Table’s ready for breakfast...”

Your eyes skimmed the vicinity of the before asking, “Where’s Yeonjun?”

Just as your mother heard you and is about to speak to reveal where your brother is, Yeonjun timingly appeared from the doorway of the kitchen. He was munching something you’re not sure what of. Not to mention, his mouth is full. When you say full, his cheeks are swelling and his lips are barely closing from the contents filling exaggeratingly inside his mouth. When your mother’s eyes landed on his form, he flinches. The mere sight of her giving you and him an indication of what is to come.

“Yeonjun!” He earns a smack in his arm from your mother, “I told you to wait up!” She gritted.

Yeonjun immediately went behind your back, knowing he’ll be spared the scolding if he has someone protecting him from your mother’s wrath and someone as a human shield from another impending spank.

He complains, “I’m starving, Mom. I didnt have dinner last night.” You chuckled, not at his reason but from the manner he delivered it, they way a three year-old kid would reason out if they get caught red handed eating sweets when they’re not allowed to. Going to college didn't change him one bit. He’s still the immature younger brother that you know.

Such a baby.

“Who isnt? Your father is as hungry as you are!”

He didnt reply but you could hear him mockingly imitate her in a low voice so she couldn’t hear. It made you snorted further. Your mother eyed you briefly, her eyebrow shot up in question. She threw a harmless warning at him before proceeding back to the kitchen.

“You rascal,” you poked, ruffling his hair at the same.

“Stop that, Noona, I just fixed my hair.” He whines, swatting your hand away from his hair.

“Oooh, my baby brother’s growing up. When did you learn to clean up?” You teased further. He rolled his eyes in response.

“Stop calling me that. I’m not a baby...look I’m even taller than you.” he retorted back, a side smirk appearing on his face, mocking your obvious insufficiency in the height department.

You playfully rub his cheek as if to literally wipe off the smirk on his face. He reacted impulsively, grabbing your hand away from his face.

“Noona… stop!” he grumbled. His efforts seemed to be wasted as he firmly locked both of your hands in his fist but he was kept pestered on as you kicked his thighs in return, trying to get away from his hold.

You were enjoying the look of complete irritation in his face like he’s ready to throw you off the window at any second in any chance that he gets.

“YN noona!” he frustratingly exclaimed while struggling to keep hold of you. “Why are you being annoying? You literally just got here.”

“Carry me to the dining table.” You softly demanded, as if you’re not locked up from his hands. Despite his strength and towering height, he’s scared enough to use it to his advantage against you and a sly grin making its way on your face knowing that he’ll eventually obey you.

His face scrunched up, trying to mock your command. “What are you, 5?”

“Piggy back ride, then I’ll leave you be.”

He dramatically lets out a sigh before he follows to your bidding, “Fine.”

Your parents both send you a weird look when Yeonjun entered in the dining room with you on his back. After he puts you down, and after you briefly greet your dad and flop down on an empty chair beside your brother’s, the four of you finally started eating, anything but a silent breakfast. It’s always like that, especially when your brother is present. He also has his way of annoying you as much as you have to him and if not for your mother chiding in between your bickering, you wouldn’t try to shut up as well as your brother.

As the short duration of the meal ends, your father ordered your brother to do the chore of washing the dishes. Being a baby that he is, he whined helplessly as if it can change your father’s order.

Your sister and the twins arrived shortly after breakfast. Your temporary job or as your sister calls it your duty as an aunt starts right away, babysitting them as they play in the confines of the living room. Toy cars, animal figurines and pieces of legos were left scattered all over the floor and you helplessly sat on the floor while looking out for your nephews to make sure they won’t hurt themselves. At this point, you find the chance to talk to Chae through the phone, while your eyes never leaving the two handful human beings wherever they waddled to. When she came to know you’re currently at your parents’ house, she immediately gossiped the information in the groupchat you share with your old friends whom you met in high school.

“How’s the city girl doing?” It was Chae right when you reached the table where you found her sitting in inside the famous Samgyeopsal place in the town. It was about twenty minute drive from your parents’ house. She arrived to the diner before you and Hoseok did and obviously selected a table while waiting for everyone to show up.

You were greeted with smoke and pleasantly tolerable chattering coming from the customers as you and Hoseok went inside. Hoseok took the chair which is literally across the grilling area of the table.

“Just fine.” You casually shrug your shoulders, asking you as if you two haven’t been talking on the phone for at least half an hour.

Chae craned her neck trying to peer behind your back, probably looking for the others. Hoseok gave you a ride so you only came with him.

“Where’s Yoongi and Irene? I swear to God those two are always competing for the last one to show up.”

“I called Irene to say I’m gonna pick her up along with YN, but she mentioned baby Leo is sick so she couldn’t make it.” He told you that earlier in the car on the way here. He continued talking when no one else has yet to throw a remark, “Yoongi-hyung… well you know him, he’s probably just late.” Chae curtly nodded in acknowledgement.

“Chae told me your auto repair business is expanding, Hobi.” You began, and in a way, to talk about something far more important. If Chae didn’t share the information, you probably wouldn’t have known. Among the group, you’re always the last one to know what’s going on with your friends’ lives, not only that you’re the only one who left the town to work, you also rarely get the time to communicate with them.

“Oh, yeah. It’s going great, the number of customers is growing so there’s also a demand to expand the area. But you guys know it’s not solely mine. I have a business partner.”

“Are you talking about that beautiful, young man in your office when I came to your shop? You didnt even introduce us!” Chae accusingly asserted.

A familiar lady, who you recognized as the owner of the diner, appeared on your table. Fresh slices of pork belly in a plate and side dishes in the tray being balanced in a single hand as she placed them one by one on the table. Another helper came, serving the rest of the dishes Chae first handedly ordered. Hoseok attentively took the plate filled with meat and started grilling them.

His eyes narrowing at her remark. “Shut up, Chae. He just recently got divorced.”

“The more reason you need to introduce me to him. You know, he might be looking for someone to forget his wife.”

You throw a potato marble in her direction using your chopsticks. It was too late when she tried to cover her face with her hands as it landed on her shoulder. You heard Hoseok roared into fits of laughter. She winces even though it was faintly thrown, thus, she’s only being dramatic. “What? I’m desperate. Perhaps, your brother—” she ducked and screeched when she saw you raised your chopsticks, anticipating the impact of another potato marble.

“He’s 19.” You grated casually knowing that she’s being in her satirical self.

“So? He’s attractive.”

“So is Ji Soo. Better option since he’s around our age.” You teased, your smirk growing as a distaste look replaces her bright and playful aura. Hoseok yet again fell into a series of laughter in pure amusement which made you laugh in return. He’s the only person who can make you laugh through the sound of his laughter alone.

“Why don’t you give the poor guy a chance? He’s been pursuing since forever.”

“No, thanks. I’d rather be single.” She scornfully expressed while spontaneously filling her mouth anything that her chopsticks can reach to divert her attention, mostly kimchi and anchovies.

“He’s not that bad, seems like a nice guy to me and probably better than your ex-fling.”

“Yeah, he once stopped by the shop. He’s nice.” Hoseok seconded your comment to her dismay. Her face scrunched up in disgust.

“Why is the topic suddenly shifted to that guy? I can’t stand him, okay?”

Before you can bite back a reply, Yoongi suddenly appeared, coolly sitting up beside Hoseok.

With a simper, Chae retorted at the swift appearance of the honey-haired man, “Look who decided to finally show up.”

As usual, he doesn’t seem one bit embarrassed from being almost half an hour late. He gave a brief nod in your direction, acknowledging your presence before taking a pair of chopsticks and took a bite from Hoseok’s ramen.

“I couldn’t leave until Yoo-Ri sleeps.” He states in an indifferent manner, even though no one was questioning his late arrival. Maybe you all just got used to it.

“Aww,” Chae’s hand flew on her chest, clutching it, a gesture of mock admiration to which Yoongi responded by rolling his eyes. “Such a sweet father.”

He ignored her jest, then spoke in between chews of food in his mouth, “So, what��s up?”

“YN, wants to treat us. That’s what.” Chae proudly announces which you send her a dumbfounded look, not expecting her comment.

“I didn’t say that.”

“She’ll pay the bill anyway,”

“I’m sure city girl will,” Yoongi snickered. The pet name came from him. As you’re the only one who went away from the town for better opportunities of your career. All of you separately went to uni outside Daegu. But the rest of them, unlike you, came back here. Yoongi married a year ago and chose to settle down here, as well as Irene who got married right after college. Hoseok started a business related to his degree and Chae works in one of the district hospitals here as a nurse.

In between chitchats of you and Chae, and Yoongi and Hoseok, your sudden visit in Daegu became the main topic of conversation when Yoongi asked out of nowhere, “Are you planning to stay here for good?”

You shook your head, “Plain visit. My mom wants me babysit the kids every weekends.”

“You’re going back to Seoul?” Yoongi interrogated further.

Uncertain of where the conversation is going, you tell him, “My work is in Seoul...”

“But where do you wanna live permanently?” It was Hoseok, this time. Now their attention is solely aimed at you, peering as they curiously wait for you to answer.

“I don’t know…”

“Life is much better here.” Yoongi acknowledges. Of course, he’ll say that. For one, he wouldn’t decide to live here if he thinks otherwise.

“Are you guys convincing me to live back here?”

She shrugged of her shoulders. “Maybe?” You didn’t respond to that, mostly because you’re confused why the casual conversation turned serious and seemingly fishy in your perspective. Are they teaming up now? For what?

“I mean, there’s like a tiny chance of running into...him if you’re here.” She further supplied.

Your eyes remained at Chae processing her words, although you’re certain the two guys are observing your reaction by the mention of your ex, an indicator rather. They must have thought you’re still not okay. You admit you’re not entirely healed up. But it doesn’t mean you’re hopelessly waiting for him to come back. You’re done with him. Nothing will ever make you change your mind, even so much as him literally begging the place he once have in your life, though you’re certain he wouldn’t.

The pain caused by the remnants of your wounds is what’s making you emotionally reserved these past few weeks. You’re broken and you’ve learned to cope up with it. You’re still broken because the past keeps haunting you for it was hard to erase years of your life that you had spent with him. 8 years to be exact. But it was just that. It’s not because you haven’t moved on. In fact, you don’t love him anymore. The pain that he caused is the only thing that reminds you of him now.

“Even if I do, I can manage. It’s not like I’m avoiding him, anyway.”

Yoongi decided to interfere as the atmosphere abruptly changes, “Let’s just drink.” He then called the attention of the lady owner, ordering bottles of soju.

The night ended pretty much later than you have expected. Hoseok’s low alcohol tolerance already made him wasted after half of the shots Yoongi have had, as well as Chae. Unlike him, Yoongi looks fine except for his flushed cheeks and neck. Not even a flicker of drunkenness can be identified in him. The current situation led him to volunteer himself to drive Hoseok’s car since all of you didn’t bring any car except for the owner himself who’s barely holding up and almosr crawling his way back to where his car is parked.

Both Hoseok and Chae have literally passed out right after you and Yoongi brought them to the backseat. It was quiet on the ride home. And you’re not complaining about it.

This day went a little productive than you anticipated it to be. The hangout was unplanned and a spur of the moment decision while you were talking to Chae through the phone. You mindlessly brought up the desire to go out to Chae, not really thinking the others would take it seriously if you ever ask them through the groupchat. The next thing you know, Chae have set up the the time and place where everyone will meet up to have a little drink and Hoseok calling you up to tell you he’d pick you up on the way.

In the midst of the silence inside the car, an image of the man earlier in the train flashed into your mind, to your dismay.

He’s just no one.

Yoongi decided to break the comforting silence. “You’ll be back next Saturday?” He rolled down the window and lit up a cigarette which you’re not aware where he got it from. Inside his pocket? You guessed.

“Yeah.”

“To babysit?” He chuckled, resting his elbow against the driver’s side’s door, the stick in between his forefinger and middle finger poking outside the window as he puffs out a smoke through his mouth. His other hand permanently glued on the steering wheel.

“Something like that…”

His efforts to casually converse with you was short lived as he noticed through his peripheral vision how all the events that occured today are gradually taking its toll on you. So he just continued to drive without opening up another conversation.

He only spoke later on when he stopped in front of your parents’ house, right after you slid off the car, and is about to close the passenger’s door.

“Give me a call if you wanna set up a little playdate with the kids and Yoo-Ri. I’m sure my wife wouldn’t mind it.” A smile made its way on your face, nodding at his offer. The twins will be ecstatic to meet another playmate.

“Sure. Drive safely, yeah?”

He gave you a curt nod then rolled the window up in the passenger’s side and drove away.

That night was the last you saw them yet. Days flew by in a blur unlike the past weeks and months which felt longer than this week that had quickly passed. You hate to admit that the weekend you spent with your family and with your old friends did a wonderful refreshment to you. You’d rather not tell your mom that she’s right, yet again. That her idea made a great effect on you.

When Monday came, you’re already anticipating another weekend to spend to in Daegu. And now that it’s already Saturday, you couldn’t wait to see them again today. You’re not sure who exactly you're excited to see of. Perhaps, being around the presence of people you trust without reservation puts you in peace. Being away with your loved ones and faced with strangers, colleagues, gravely contributes to your pent up frustration of doubting everyone’s sincerity towards you. After what happened.

All you’ve been chasing throughout these years is a decent life somewhere with someone you love thinking it’s the simplest form of happiness. After he broke off the engagement, the man whom you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with and the future you created with him all vanished into the thin air. When he officially left your shared apartment, you thought it was also the end for you. Not knowing how you’d recover from the severe damage he inflicted. That the rest of your life will be spent full of pretense happiness, with pure indifference and hatred to the world.

Now that you’ve realized what you’ve become after he left, it’s a good thing for you that he’s already out of your life. Because loathing the world instead of directing it towards him says how badly infatuated you are to him. To the point of blaming everyone for your heartbreak instead of aiming your fury to the person who have caused it. This would be the last time you’ll think of him. Even a flicker of his name, or a tinge of his image in your mind. You wont think of him, unless an external force coerces you to.

It was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep in the comforts of your seat.

He couldn’t help but stare mesmerizingly and in full awe. His lips parted, eyes twinkling from admiration, barely blinking, as if afraid to let his sight falter to such view in front of him. An angel. It was as if luck is on his side. She was already asleep when he arrived at his seat not too far away from her. But taken aback when he saw her, sleeping. Noticing the vacancy of the seats across her, he risked occupying them with his daughter sleeping on his arms as he settled in front of the woman who has filled his thoughts since that day. Indeed, luck is in his favor because nobody has claimed the seats.

Now, he’s not only sitting across her, the closest he could get, he can also stare at her sleeping form and could do it longer without making her uncomfortable like the last time. Hair getting in the way of her face as her head swayed to the said and he wants so much as push it aside to see her face more clearly. She looks like a beautiful angel, one that was sent to rescue them last Saturday and one who is responsible for making his heart flutter involuntarily.

When she offered the sweets for his daughter, it was an instant thought that she may have kids on her own although he shouldnt have voiced it out. Because she looks mature enough to be one, in a good way. Taehyung witnessed his friends bloom in their motherhood stage. It was that kind of maturity that he sees in her.

His eyes instinctively searched for her hand, for her ring finger that may hold him back. His heart does an overwhelming tug when he saw your finger unoccupied by a wedding band. Perhaps, a boyfriend? The same thought trailed in his mind as he noticed her stirring from her slumber. He moves his eyes towards his little princess, sleeping soundly beside him. And when he moves it back in front where the beautiful angel is sitting, his eyes widens.

She’s awake. And her reaction completely mimics his. Surprise evidently written on her face. For what reason?

You’re dreaming, aren’t you? Your mind must be creating an illusion at the place where you first laid eyes on him. You were thinking of him too much than you care to admit for letting him wander in your mind alone is unnecessary. You literally just broke up with you fiancée some months ago. You’re not supposed to relevantly consider the idea of him, someone you’re probably attracted with like a teenager that you’re not.

Your eyes fluttered, expecting to see nothing but the cushioned chair in front of you as you open them again.

Your breath hitched when your eyes landed on him yet again. He was looking at you with the same intensity like the last time. The same one which made you strangely uncomfortable.

He’s really here?

Your eyes traveled beside his seat. It is taken as well. By the sleeping figure of Jae hya. Have your mind gone wild making an image not only him in it but including his daughter...which likened the scene last Saturday? This time though, he is wearing a different button up shirt, larger than his body size but strangely suits him well. If this image in front of you is real, isn’t it weird to be seated across with a man and his daughter twice in a row?

Your heart achingly tugs against your chest when a smile slowly surfaces on his face while he locks his eyes on you.

The longer you stare back at him, completely immobile from your seat, the harder it gets to believe a part of you which convinces you this is not true.

The same man who has kept your mind unwarrantedly occupied is here? Same train in a same day. What is the probability of seeing him again? There’s only a tiny bit chance. Coincidence? Possibly… or perhaps, fate?

⇀

an: unedited :( what do you guys think?

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #parent!taehyung #dad!taehyung #dad!au #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagines #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung au #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts imagines #bts fanfic au #bts fluff

560 notes · View notes

7wanderingpaws · 6 years ago

Text

3. OCEAN'S DEPTH.

Genre: marine biologist AU

Pairing: Bambam x reader

Word count: 2.2K

0. Synopsis // 1. Whales // 2. Dolphins. // 3. Ocean's depth.

(( I apologise for the long wait, it was not planned at all. Uni is in full swing, I am in my final year so the thesis writing is giving me a little headache. I hope this part will still be somehow enjoyable! Please let me know your thoughts! ))

- - - OCEAN'S DEPTH - - -

You were tapping your foot against the warm pavement the next day in the docks. The weather was still shiny, pleasant and ever so welcoming.

You were supposed to have a good mood, considering all of these aspects.

You felt like a piece of a rotten tuna tin.

Exactly like rotten tuna tin, whatever it was supposed to mean.

"Where is he?!" you shouted angrily to your two colleagues who were looking bored and kept murmuring among each other, snickering quietly.

"Calm down," said Jaebeom and pressed the side button on his iPhone to check the time. He pushed it back into his back pocket of his jeans. "His late just 15 minutes."

Jackson laughed in disbelief. "Just 15 minutes."

You glued your strict stare at the cheerful man and he just shook his head, not bothering to talk to you more.

"Well, if he isn't coming in five more minutes, we are leaving."

"But boss, even if we leave in five minutes we will still be there 30 minutes early," replied Jaebeom in a diplomatic tone.

Jackson snickered again.

You sighed, combing your hand through your already messy hair. "Are you making fun of me? Do you think this is funny?"

"No, not at all, " replied Jaebeom, coughing away his giggle.

"Look, " you started, holding your hand out." You can think whatever you want to, but the fact is that we should be there a little bit earlier to make sure everything goes smoothly. As you can see, this duck head is late anyway. This is why we have to be there a little bit earlier."

"A little bit, " mumbled Jackson to himself.

Jaebeom started to laugh loudly, not bothering to hold back anymore.

As much as you liked to see your forever cold and reserved colleagues laugh, you did not appreciate it one bit at the moment.

" Shut up, Jackson, " you snapped. " You don't let me breathe even for a little while right? You always have to push me down."

He looked at your hurt face and before he could argue in any possible way, from the distance you hear rushed steps and a very tired looking Bambam. He was trying to adjust his bag on his shoulder as his hair was a big mess.

"I'm here! I'm coming! Oh, thanks for waiting for me!" he breathed as he finally arrived.

"Good." You turned around and marched forward towards the kindergarten that you hated so much at the moment. Youngjae was going to pay a big price for letting his mouth talk so much.

If Jackson were a dog, he would have his ears pressed to the sides of his head, his tail between his legs and lowered head. There wasn't a minute when you wouldn't fight these days despite how hard and cold you both were to each other.

He still wouldn't tell you what was pissing him off so much about you and you certainly didn't want to ask about that kind of thing. This way you were aware you were annoying him and that was more than enough.

You all made your way to the kindergarten and to your pleasure, you were quickly ushered in, the kids already waiting.

"Soon is never soon enough, Dr Im," you muttered to Jaebeom. Before he could retort something too sophisticated for you, you turned quickly to your team, mostly focusing your attention to your two colleagues rather than Bambam who was smiling the whole time as he was observing the kids' drawings. "Alright, we literally have like five minutes to discuss whose gonna talk about what-"

"Y/N," you heard your name. Youngjae's mum was standing next to you, her frame tall and her facial features kind. "I'm afraid you will have to go in now. The kids are waiting and they are restless."

"Yes but-"

"Alright, then there is no time to waste!" shouted Bambam, suddenly paying attention and soon he was entering the little hall kids had there for their performances.

Jackson snickered as he followed Jaebeom and BamBam. "So much for authority, huh."

A tiny growl escaped your lips, startling you. Damn. Now the game was on. You would ruin Jackson for sure.

The kids greeted you politely, most of them curiously looking at the blonde haired Bam.

While Jaebeom looked uncomfortable and seemed like dying inside from the attention, Jacskon was also naturally swayed with the kids as he was smiling brightly, waving at them.

"Everyone, let me introduce you these marine biologists," started Youngjae's mother, her voice a pleasant baritone. "Dr Y/N is The leader of the marine research institute here in Mokpo and Dr Jackson and Dr Jaebeom are her colleagues, great experts. Dr Bambam is a world famous marine biologist from Thailand so make sure to treat him with respect."

"Are we considered trash next to him?" muttered Jackson as he had his bright smile plastered on his face.

You bumped your elbow into his ribs quite hardly which made him wince with surprise. He widened his eyes at you, but you had a stern look already focused on the wall opposite you.

"Now I will let our biologists take over the talking and please participate actively!"

Youngjae's mum nodded at you with a supportive smile and you made sure to thank kindly before reaching for the microphone. "Hello, everyone! I'm Y/N and I would like to start with a question for all of you. Please raise your hands if you want to talk, alright?" you asked with a thumb up but when you didn't get any feedback you laughed awkwardly. "Alright! So, what do you understand under marine biology or marine research?"

You had a weird feeling these questions were not exactly meant for such a young audience as these four-year-olds who barely knew their mother's name but you were serious about doing your job professionally.

One little boy in the front row raised his hand shyly. "I think you work with dolphins."

You swayed your head from side to side. "Yes, could be also."

"That's totally true!" exclaimed Bambam. "And you know what? Let me tell you something that I'm sure you didn't know about whales." The way he was talking made kids much more interested compared to the poker faces they were giving you.

"The whales are these veeery big animals, right?" asked Bambam, motioning with his hands. "We also call them mammals.They can be much bigger than this whole kindergarten! And the important thing to know about them is that their poop is needed for the ocean's ecosystem."

You snapped your head to Bambam, not liking the direction he was going. On the other side Jaebeom and Jackson were also listening as intently as the kids.

"So how exactly does this work, hm? Well, when the whales poop it's really big and can create a big mess." Kids started to laugh, supported by Bambam. "Their poop contains lots of important microscopic creatures that are beneficial for other fish! For instance, phytoplankton is a crucial part of the ocean's ecosystem and some underwater animals live off of it."

"Eeeeeeeeew," kids whined but laughed loudly, scrunching up their noses.

BamBam laughed too, extremely pleased with himself. Jackson and Jaebeom had a light grin, also liking the playful way Bam introduces whale's poop.

"Another thing we have to watch out for are coral reefs," started Jackson his part. The k god it was an appropriate topic. "Do you know what are coral reefs right?"

There was a lady sitting by with a laptop who screened pictures on the big wall so the kids could see. She typed quickly into Naver search engine the keywords and all of you were met with colourful fish and massive corals. It made you smile right away and Jackson went up to the picture and tried to simplify the information about the coral reefs.

“They are extremely endagered. You know Nemo, right? Well, he also lives in these coral reefs. However, Nemo cannot cope with warm water. That is what causes these reefs to die out - warmed up temperatures.”

All of you continued with your presentations, trying to engage children as much as possible and at the end having a nice little quiz (with a rewarding present too!).

Jaebeom was breaking jokes about sea horses that you tried not to cringe about but thanks to Bambam, he supported every idea. It almost seemed like he knew only the silly stuff and not the important information.

After you were finished, you stopped Bam on your way out, so that Jackson and Jaebeom wouldn't hear you.

"Can we go diving today?" you spilled.

If Bambam was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead a signature smile spread across his face. "Well of course , boss. But I made a reservation at this five star restaurant you have in this little town so I will go there first."

You sighed, trying not to show your frustration. "Look. You shouldn't eat before diving especially not with the depth of our diving. Secondly, I thought you came here to help, not try all these so call five star restaurants."

BamBam laughed, tapping your shoulder. "should I cancel because of you, Y/N?"

"Exactly my idea," you smiled, walking past him.

He was quick to grab your hand though. "How will you refund me this loss?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how important I hold my luxury living. Since I'm going to sacrifice it for you, I hope it will be rewarding at least." His hand trailed over your arm, teasing you.

By now you knew better than to take his ideas seriously. "Well, heated kissing under the water, how does that sound."

Bam laughed tapping you shoulder. "Good enough, girl, good enough."

You couldn’t believe your own words. Your own mouth. Your own tongue. heated kissing under the water?! There was a sudden urge for you to slap yourself as you were heading to the docks to meet Bambam. How on earth could be this cheesy?

You knew Bam was not serious half of the time and even though he did tell you some good things about the marine biology and how to lead this entire expedition, there was just something slightly off. Whenever someone had a really professional question, he would suddenly go quiet, dissing the question with a simple answer that didn’t really add to your knowledge.

When you entered the docks with all your equipment, you were surprised to find him already there. He seemed deep in thought, his uniform already on.

You paused for moment, thinking what to do.

Set your goals straight...

There was no doubt you needed this guy for you to find the creature. He had all the knowledge. Apparently...

“How was it when you found out people know you?” you walked towards him, a challenging smile on your burned face. “And why would you talk about whale poop anyway.”

Bambam smirked as he turned towards you, his full attention now on you. “How else do you want to get the kids attention if not with something silly.”

“Good for you it was a true fact what you said,” you replied, putting on your swimming gear.

“I only say things that are true,” he murmured, eyeing you up.

A blush creeped up into your cheeks as you zipped up the uniform on your back. You both checked whether the equipment you had was prepared for the dive. “I sure hope so.”

“So the kissing part,” he started.

You held out your hand quickly. “Stop right there. I didn’t mean any of that.”

“And here I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” you said without thinking and immediately closed your mouth in pure shock. What did you just say?!

“You do?” he asked, his eyes full of hope.

You blinked a few times, hiding behind one of the oxygen bombs. “What? I mean I like the weather today.”

Bambam burst out into fit of laughters. “You are actually super cute, you know that? You play all this hardly approached girl but you are such a softie.”

“That is some good load of whale poop,” a doubtful laughter was the only thing you could let out. “Anyway, let’s go already. It’s gonna be super dark in a few.”

“Yes, that’s the point of night diving.”

As you walked passed him, you turned sharply, facing him. “Listen, Bambam. Whatever it is you are thinking, stop it. And just so you know, I have my eyes on you.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you, obviously not taking you seriously but you just sighed and headed towards the little stairs leading into the water. It wasn’t until you reached the edge and you slipped on it that you felt his hands around your waist. You yelped feeling him pulling you backwards. It made him slip almost as well but he managed to keep a strong stance making sure you are steady.

You stayed like that for a few more seconds before your heart beat could simmer down to a normal rate. Slowly turning around, you saw Bambam’s gentle face. His eyes were already on you when you met his gaze. His hand reached out and slowly pushed your messy hair out of your face before his index finger slipped under your chin, sending goosebumps down your spine.

You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until his face was inching closer to yours.

Oh no.

What was he doing?!

18 notes · View notes

anenium · 6 years ago

Text

i’ve never loved a music group as much as i love seventeen. i was over stanning idol groups by the time i ran into them and was focusing on university and finishing my thesis and etc, so i can’t stress enough how much each and every member are ALL extremely special to me for me to make a whole new space in my life for them. but obviously i have a favorite, and he has treated me so well since the very start, and i want to mention beforehand that this entire ...wall of text is gonna be about me as seungkwan’s fan and my personal anecdotes from seeing him at ideal cut, and not that much about the other members. it’s not that i don’t love them very much! but seungkwan is extremely special to me and he is the comforting and reliable sunlight who i want to scream to the world about.

i don't need to tell you guys how hard it is to be an international fan cos most of you all know those pains.. and i was definitely one of the carats hoping there would be some announcement for NA tour before i finally bit the bullet and decided to go ideal cut. but there's also smth else that hurts, that i haven’t explicitly shared. of all my insecurities about being a carat, i often myself particularly insecure about being forgotten by seungkwan.

i know it’s a lot to expect him or any idol to remember their all fans, that’s exactly why i don’t mention this insecurity on twitter (til now...). being forgotten by your idol is smth that i know has put people off of their biases completely. i’m lucky because boo himself a couple years ago told someone to relay to me a tiny message, so without me asking him about it, i suddenly was aware he knew for sure i existed and knew i went to see him at schedules as his fan. and i was so happy and enamored by the idea that i never wanted it to change ;;

but ofc i moved away, and i never properly talked to him in the first place (fansign is expensive and i was a full time uni student hhhh) so i have a constant worry that it’ll seem like i stopped supporting him or he will just forget completely that he has me as his fan. which again.... is totally fair and in the first place i would never even ask him if he remembers me IF i got the chance. the last time he saw me was... 2017 summer, so who knows if he remembers my face or my sign. or if he even knows my sign = me ?

i tried not to have any expectations or hopes about interacting with seungkwan during ideal cut. it’s a concert, first of all, not a meet and greet or a fansign. and i knew i might be far away or he might be on a different side of the stage, and i also knew that i wanted to just listen to him singing after a long time and experience concerts with my friends who i don’t get to see often.

but somehow, even if it’s just cos of my neon bright sign with his name on it, seungkwan sees me. he smiled at or waved to me (or even both ;;;;;) in every country i visited after he’d seen my sign and that’s so.. the chances of that happening is completely crazy. but what’s important to me is how he acted when he saw it. every single time was meaningful to me and by manila all my worries were gone.

i did get to see the boys at the airport in incheon before the concert during my layover to jakarta and even had a cute interaction outside with soonyoung ; 3; so my heart was a little more at ease the next day at the concert cos i got that “refill” of seeing them already. i spent time with dani and met a lot of carats handing out my transparent fans and i don’t remember feeling that stressed or nervous, somehow. dani and i stood against the back bar of our standing section and we had an amazing view and i finally saw pinwheel and the lights hitting seungkwan’s face and i was so ;;;; filled with awe at the end that these kids i ran into three years ago have become such amazing performers, you know?

i could write miles about each concert, how dynamic hht has become, how much joy i feel watching performance team, all the nostalgia when they all perform Adore U and the burst of energy that explodes in the venue when the boys sing Run To You like.. carats and seventeen running to each other. my heart felt so full after seeing Seventeen at their own concert after such a long time. at the end and when i was already giving up the hopes i told myself not to have, boo finally saw my sign.

he looked so HAPPY. i can’t even tell you how my heart leaps to watch the fancam of the moment he smiles at it. he just smiled so brightly and he returned the little heart i shot him after a couple seconds. i seriously watched that moment so many times because im so happy that HE smiled as big as he did ; ; he was happy cos of the sign, happy cos of dani’s and my reaction after he saw it, and.. idk how else to say it, i just want to make a blanket out of that smile ; ; im so happy that i can be the reason for his smile.

at the fansign the next day i was “meeting” him and vocal unit and i was really scared... cos i already knew it was going to be fast (and it was damn FAST...). but then, he saw my sign even before we went up to them at the tables. it’s understandable i got a shock, right ; ; he and jeonghan staring down my camera made me wonder if he recognized my sign from the previous day... and i had already been worried because i wasn’t sure what to say to them.

actually i told seungkwan i loved him twice before, once just saying it through the kbs window in 2016, and once at hitouch at diamond edge new york. but at kbs there’s no way to know 100% what he said (cos the glass..........) and at diamond edge he just... “thank you~ OHOHOHOHOHOHO” ....:D so naturally i was on the fence about saying it again. cos i thought isn’t it.. a bit redundant if i say it.. again? shouldn’t i say something more creative or meaningful? and i’m being honest that when i see all the fanaccounts that boo returns an “i love you too~” at hitouches i feel a little jealous and reluctant. but bethany kicked some sense into me right before i went up and i wanted to share it.

it’s true that i want him to know how loved he is by his fans ; ; especially after earlier this year when he admitted his insecurities about loving himself.. even if he’s been seemingly content lately i would still want him to be reassured as many times as possible. so i sucked it up and i did!!! just!!!! “hi! i REALLY love you!” at jakarta fansign.

and...........i have no idea what he said back to me cos it was too loud ^^

but it’s alright BECAUSE i got to see his pretty smile when i said it. i have no regrets about saying it! i dunno about next time (if there’s next time) but this time i was really happy that i could look him in the eyes and say tht i love him cos i DO adore him a whole bunch u___ u;;;; and although i’d have liked to express my feelings in more, accurate words, i was only in front of him for two or three seconds and that was the best thing i could have said to him, now thinking in retrospect. and gosh he was definitely tired that afternoon, but he was so so handsome ;;;; seeing him eye to eye never gets any easier.

in singapore dani and i were joined by my beloved jo! and we three were together in standing~ and shock of my life, at the end of the concert boo pointed to my sign and smiled and waved and as dani put it, once she heard me and jo screaming and freaking out it was like a “check” ; ; it’s not the first time he points to that sign in particular so i just felt.. reassured in that moment. he doesn’t smile with surprise like in jakarta, but still he’s pointing and grinning and acknowledging me and inside im like YESYESYESYESYESYE- part of it too is, this is happening and im with my friends and ; ; i know im not just imagining things, you know?

in malaysia we got $oundcheck and i didn’t say this yet but soundcheck was just as amazing for us as the concert ; ; we got to be at the front (there weren’t queue numbers so... it was a sacrifice of a lot of WAITING) and luckily, there was a pause in the music at the beginning while the boys were at the extended stage near carats. so they interacted with us a bit and! i got to wave to hansol and hosh and.. that’s when boo looks down and he saw my sign; ;;; but cos the venue was all lit up for rehearsal he actually looked me in the eyes and wave-waved calmly to me ; ; and actually.. he didn’t smile~ but he was barefaced and it’s just soundcheck after all~

i don’t think he ever waved to me without cracking a smile before so i felt a little ? when overthinking it but.. his expression was kinda nice, too ;; performing is his job after all, so just making sure he looks at me and waves during their technical rehearsal is really sweet of him, even if he’s not feeling super HAPPY or something at that moment, he took the time to acknowledge i was there. i want to stress that what i really learned over time is that boo really knows how important and meaningful it is to wave to fans and try to give individual acknowledgement when he can, even when it’s small, esp cos seventeen can’t always meet us individually.

i was at the opposite side from where i was the three other concerts in kl, and i can confidently say... boo was not on the right side much ^^~ but it was nice to pay a lot more attention to the other members, and see a different angle of all their performances!! i have no regrets being on the right side because frankly there’s some members i might have no memories of from this tour if i hadn’t been on the opposite side of boo.

next is~ manila! and manila was a dream ; ; i was with dani and many friends and we were right THERE at the bar and i hadn’t been that close to the boys at a concert.. ever. at recordings yes, and hitouch yes, but dani told me being close at concerts is different and it absolutely was. seventeen is a group that shines the most when they’re performing and concerts are where they thrive.

seungkwan is born to be on stage. he mentioned that he works hard on his expressions but, i wonder if he knows it’s more than just his hard work. the way his voice carries emotions and his body language when he feels the music he does in ways that are just so *him*. it’s the lights bouncing off his cheeks in pinwheel when he’s singing to the sky. it’s how he hits you in the heart when he belts his lines in Run To You and he’s dramatically swaying on his mic stand, and his entire aura change during Flower. when he coolly gives his ending speeches with heavy eyelids cos he’s tired but all anyone is looking at are his full cheeks and how pretty his eyes look outlined with champagne-colored glitter. his comfortable warm smiles to carats at the end of every concert and all the efforts he put in to communicate with us, to have fun with us and make each country feel special to seventeen.

habit is my favorite song from the kids. i can’t even casually listen to it because it triggers a lot of attached feelings ; ; i’d seen it four times on the tour but, only in manila i felt a tear sliding down my face. cos i was looking at seungkwan and thinking that it was my last time to hear it, and my last time watching him sing it, and suddenly i was so overwhelmed with affection for him. i was trying to listen but in my head i can only remember him doused in lights and his passionate singing and how much i'm thankful for him suddenly ; ; and also i was ... embarrassed to be crying~

when vocal unit came up to the extended stage for pinwheel i tried to hard to just listen to him ;; he was so close and i was looking up at him and seriously just ;;;;; he was the most beautiful human being i’ve ever seen in that moment. he is never more gorgeous than when he’s singing and there’s really no one like him.

when the boys performed ‘thinkin’ about you’, they interacted with fans a bit at previous stops, so i had my sign out just in case~ and when the boys walked around in a circle at the end of the song, boo looked SO CUTE cos he borrowed coups’ leader flag and was marching around with it ;;;;; idk why but that made it even more special that he saw me at that moment, and smiled at me with big eyes before walking by ;;;;;; i looked at dani and she looked at me and we shglfndjkh;fkhlfd together ;;;;;;;

during their final ment the boys sat down at the main stage to talk to carats, and boo was diagonal from my spot, so i could see him well. i didn’t hold up my sign from the start cos.. he was literally so far away i didn’t think he could see anyone beyond the fans around the main stage. but during hosh’s ment i kinda thought i had a chance and he was looking our way.. so i unfolded my sign and BAM he reacted alfdjklgjkdfls!!!

actually watching a fancam of it now, what i couldn’t tell then, is that while he was nodding he had legit raised his eyebrows at me l o l. and he just kept nodding and grinning while at the side hoshi was giving his ment, and for some dumb reason i ducked my head behind my sign in shock and in a fancam i can literally see tht he was about to look away—but doesnt ;;;; dani is next to me seeing this happen and i’m not hiding behind my sign anymore and she’s pointing at me to confirm it’s really ME and he gives a thumbs UP and im DYING AT THIS POINT.

[dani next to me: HER? HER ? OK DAMN BOO YOU’RE SO AMAZING YES OK DONE OK YES YES STILL THUMBS UP? OK-]

i made another ridiculous finger heart to him and he’s STILL NODDING ND WAVES AND GIVES ANOTHER THUMBS UP AND THEN!!! hoshi was in the middle of the stage belting his “지금 몇 시???” and the moment is over~ honestly it seemed more dramatic and long at the time but... i was seriously in awe. i don’t remember any ments after that (i didn’t even know what hosh had done until after the concert) until seungkwan started talking himself cos i couldn’t believe that happened..

the ending felt bittersweet ofc ; ; the boys were literally right THERE and they all looked so gorgeous and handsome and i wish the “aju NICE”’s could have lasted for an hour or ten... but there was still send-off.

i always have this issue where i miss a lot of the members because i start panicking looking for seungkwan... ofc the same happened now. i don’t really remember the order, but i only remember that i waved to hoshi who was first and also got to say bye to josh as he walked by, his eyes got so big and his smile was really pretty ; ; and then second to last there was boo.

like i mentioned in my tweets, he was in a cap for send-off~ and as he’s walking towards where i was i held my sign over the railing so he could see it as he approached and!! ofc he did ;; he was already smiling but he spotted it and grinned right at it and nod-nod-nodded and even pointed directly to it and istg his smile was... different once again. he literally looked like he was expecting to see it and i felt so ; ; even if he couldnt hear me i called to him that i’ll see him next year (which wasn’t *technically* true.. i went to see them at the mall the next day heh) and he was still walking by and was already even past me but!!! dani had called his name and he had looked up from my sign and was smiling really at *me* ; ; he wasnt actually last but.. i distractedly watched the back of boo’s cap until he was at the end of the tiny hall and turned into another room out of sight..

and then i was just crying behind my uchiwa. hehe.

the next day was the manila saem fansign and as everyone else said, it was damn crowded. and i was damn far away with dani. and it was so hot and loud and we were actually thinking of leaving because it was just too much... by the time seventeen arrived and were at the fansign stage i had a hard time holding my camera up, and i don’t even *have* a bazooka lense. still, i had a smaller “boo” sign dangling from my cam, and dani was holding up my lucky sign where boo could see somewhere next to my head~

i really don’t know how he can see it from so far away ; ; but he did, right before they started meeting carats for autographs. it was the same as always, i saw him seeing me first and i dropped my camera to wave and THEN i started taking pictures.. he is seriously the most patient. ever. i took precious photos of him making a “V” with his fingers and smiling at my camera and the moment he looked away in my mind i just thought.. REST.

i wish i knew how to better explain the feeling after attending their tour. it’s the first time i think i feel the word... lucky. before, at the radio and at recordings and hitouches, i just felt that my consistency going to see seventeen and specifically cheering for seungkwan made it possible for him to remember me well and acknowledge me as his fan. but at this tour, where there’s so many thousands of people and it’s hard to see everyone in the audience, and at fansigns where it was crowded or when i really thought he wouldn’t be able to see me, he still did. im lucky that seungkwan is seungkwan. i’m lucky that he’s attentive to carats, that he’s understanding and kind, and that he has FANTASTIC eyesight.

i don’t really know if he knows i’m the same fan from sukira, or if he remembered the sign from previous years’ concerts and recordings. but for me, it’s enough that by the end of the tour he could smile so comfortably at me like ; ; i’m 100% sure he remembered that.. my sign = ...me. and that makes me so happy in itself. i feel sad often that i can’t support boo as much as i used to, that i can’t cheer for him where he can hear it and that i can’t take pretty photos to share of him like before. during Oh My promotions in july, i hesitated to get a signed page from him... exactly because i didn’t want to ask something like, if he remembered me or not. instead~ i asked for him to cheer me up until i could see him again. the friend who was getting the page for me told him i was from the us, had gone to kcon japan just to see him earlier this year, and that i was going to the ideal cut stops, too.

(i’m clarifying here for anyone new~ that the trip to japan was planned with my friend from uni, and seventeen was conveniently announced for kcon after my trip was almost fully sorted. it was too perfect to not go see them * ^*)

seungkwan verbally responded to her saying it must be hard for me to go all the way there ;; in english and korean on my page he wrote thank you, and that he really wished for us to meet ;;;; and thinking back to that page some months later, it came true as much as it possibly could have.

im lucky that seungkwan is the one i came to like. because even if he doesn’t know anything about me or even my name, he knows im someone who likes him and that’s enough for him to take a moment to let me know he knows i’m there. and i know that i’m not the only fan of his he takes his time to acknowledge. every concert tour there are new fan accounts of his kindness and attentiveness, his friendly interactions with carats and people writing how much they appreciate him after seeing him in person or on stage. he’s such a special and talented individual with such a big heart and i hope that everyone can feel reassured that.. if there’s an idol who will do their best to take your love and return it tenfold, seungkwan is definitely one.

i know i mention it only vaguely but i have had such a difficult, tiresome year. i don’t feel like i’m exaggerating when i say the happiness i got from seeing seungkwan, seventeen, and most of all my friends last month is what’s going to get me through the rest of it. im not sad (yet...) that the tour is over, or that it’ll be a while until i see seventeen again. im still so ridiculously happy, and i feel motivated to work hard until the next time ; ; im not worried anymore, because seungkwan never fails to cheer me up whether i’m at a concert on the other side of the world or i’m just seeing his post on instagram on my own side. i would give him a planet’s worth of love if i could and i hope he continues to recieve praise and affection for as long as possible, for just being his wonderful self.

2 notes · View notes

identitycris1s · 4 years ago

Text

im back

hi just thought id pop in with a status update! maybe i’ll break this down into categories. feel like im doing an email update (ew!) but this rly is probs the best way to structure this post...

work / school (?)

work has been....aite. idk what to say. idk if i have unrealistic expectations of what work is supposed to be, but the idealist in me thinks its wrong to not even try and find something that seems meaningful / is deeply fulfilling. i think im mature enough to get that work isnt supposed to be fun / exciting every single day but bro this daily grind / sense of dread / utter disinterest / feeling of futility / frustration / disenchantment surely isnt the correct state of affairs.....at least let me try and find something that is a better fit, thats more stimulating, that feels more NATURAL to me? i just dont think im cut out to be a lawyer. sure i sometimes like arguing and making my point and i like that everyone i work with is smart and interesting and generally kind and reasonable and i like the prestige of the job and feeling like ppl respect me and i like the decent pay and the humane hours but.....i feel unmotivated to be a good lawyer. i think i find it difficult / disingenuous to always 100% get behind my client and advocate for their best interests. i tend to see things from a zoomed out perspective, like WHY are we fighting, WHY cant we just settle, WHY are the claimants pursuing this absolutely crap and unmeritorious claim and WHY do we have to defend it when its stupid and bound to fail (cos access2justice i guess but still, WHY), WHY cant we just hash things out in a meeting instead of sending emails here and there and wasting time, WHY do we have to answer stupid questions, WHY WHY WHY

and i think public policy is sort of an answer to that....i think theres more questioning of why we do things and why a policy will or will not work, in a macro sense - what is good for society at large. whereas in law (at least in litigation) its how can we just move this case forward and help the client, which is often not the most productive thing to do in a macro sense - very much a zero sum game. i get that shitty / unmeritorious claims still need to be defended against and someone has to do it and I GET IT but i just dont think i want to be that person defending these claims...or bringing them for that matter.....ultimately i cant fully / sincerely separate the overarching sense of futility from the duty to do a good job.

sigh. well at least ive kind of figured out this isnt for me. which is scary cos being a lawyer in this firm is pretty much a career for life - truly an iron rice bowl, i could probably make partner in maybe 4 or 5 years and live a comfortable upper middle class life...but i cant bring myself to do that. i cant bring myself to not give myself a shot at doing something i actually find interesting, stimulating and that i care about deeply. call me crazy! we’ll see where this brings me in 5 years’ time....:)

anyway most ppl at work (at least in my team) know that im most likely gonna leave soon. i rly only told 2 ppl (my boss cos he had to sign off on my testimonial and G cos she was quitting anyway)...but somehow ppl found out one way or another. i dont rly mind and ppl have been taking it pretty well and have been kind and encouraging (i guess why would they not take it well, im hardly indispensable) but i get a bit antsy thinking - what if i dont get in...then what? do i just put my head down and continue here (BUT IM SO SAD) or do i just quit without any prospects and try to find a policy-ish job??

idk. will have faith that God will put me where I need to be. he is in control of it all and I BELIEVE THIS !!! I am just a bit scared that his plan is different from what i think i want....but this is just my human instinct and i know in my head that there is no reason to be scared cos his plan is always the better one. head knowledge just needs to translate to heart understanding and real trust / faith.

ermmm relationships...???

i started using...cmb...idk why i find this so cringey. i guess about a year ago i couldnt imagine doing this and i kept thinking EW what if ppl i know see me and they think im a desperate saddo who cant find a bf irl and has to resort to an app EW shes so lame and ugly and gross. and i realised that is so stupid no one actually thinks that way and its very backward and dumb and insecure of me to be thinking that. and anyway as i get older i rly dont quite give a shit what ppl think of me (at least i tell myself that....)

i suppose i was also inspired by csm who has been quite actively using apps and meeting ppl and taking real..strides..(LOL) in her dating life. i used to tell myself hey God will provide u with a mans if he wants u to be with a mans. but also God can use an app to do that...and if i dont step out in faith that he will do something and i dont take any action at all, how is God gonna work?? should i sit at home and expect a man to fall into my lap??

for some ppl it has been way easier, e.g. my parents meeting in uni and falling i love. i always wanted that - the organic relationship, the meet-cute, the friends to lovers thing. (i guess i tried that last one before and it didnt work...) but i think theres no point in romanticising relationships anymore. thats a very modern thing to do and its not necessarily a good thing? like who’s to say a relationship that had organic beginnings is intrinsically better than one that started from an app?

anyway i havent had much luck haha i think its hard to find genuine GCBs (or maybe theyre just not attracted to me....) although recently ive been talking to this one guy B for a week or two and its been...ok i guess. hes rly nice and seemed cool at first - we talked about travelling and hamilton and the office, which was a good start. he is thoughtful and kind and doesnt seem to be put off by my very slow replies (he replies so fast......its stressful a bit) and he does the whole good morning text thing (which i frankly find a bit bizarre, we barely know each other..?? and ive never even met him irl.. but its sweet i guess :))

but DUDE his english seems to be not great - at least thats the impression i get from texting him. which is an issue for me. i dont want it to be BUT IT IS...first red flag was when he said some weird thing about not wanting to wear a mask at work (not a literal mask - like he didnt know if he could be his ‘true self’) and the wording was very strange. then he said “the weekends are almost here” ?? the weekend is not a plural though? then he used the wrong tense a few times and his apostrophe usage was wrong (”Gods’ love” - bro there is one God). he also uses way too many commas which irks me.

i mean i get that text is supposed to be an informal medium - come on look at this post, there r hardly any capital letters and plenty of short forms and hardly any apostrophes but u see its CONSISTENT and its obviously cos of laziness / convenience - but i think his problem is a bit different...u can sort of tell if someone doesnt have a 100% strong grasp of english. those r basic grammar mistakes man...i get that i sound petty and stupid and this isnt a huge deal but i feel like im settling by even talking to him cos this is not something i wld normally tolerate but hey maybe im getting desperate with age :(:(:( urgh

on the other hand maybe i just need to be more generous with ppl and l have an irrationally high standard for english cos i am a lawyer and my friends all speak well / text well?? maybe im just being too nitpicky?? honestly hes very nice and communicative and straightforward and seems mature and very God-fearing and idk why hes still talking to me cos ive been a bit cold and slow to respond. hes very patient which i dont rly deserve.....i myself have a million flaws that are probably way worse and egregious (ahem PRIDE...ahem ego....ie the source of this dilemma in the first place...) so maybe i should just close one eye abt the bad grammar.

i also realised how fked up i am - confirmed my suspicion that i am naturally attracted to emotionally unavailable ppl / ppl that just seem distant / out of reach (thats my avoidant attachment style right there). i think there was one day he didnt text me at all and omg...i couldnt stop thinking what i did wrong...like did i piss him off by being too cold for too long...did he get scared off cos i said i wanted to do a masters (idk this seemed like an irrational leap but i was being irrational)..then i started being nicer to him and replied more promptly hahaha turns out he was just rly bz at work that day. omg this pattern is real i think i did this with xj also - was eager to speak when he was in japan but after meeting irll i was just over it... (i am drawn to distance like a moth to a flame and i am repelled by availability like....a fire by a fire extinguisher (??)). yucks i rly hate myself sometimes but yknow what at least im self aware and im trying to fix this...kind of.. gonna hash this avoidant thing out with my therapist at the next sesh.

on the topic of xj i got a bit nostalgic and wondered why we stopped speaking (surprise surprise it was my fault, didnt reply then felt it had been left to long to pick it up again...) went back to look at our texts and aw we rly got along so well, i do miss him as a friend and im sorry about how poorly i treated him especially in dec 2018 / jan 2019 sigh.....i was a real bitch....

anyway im just gonna see how things go with B... if he asks me out i prob will go... just to give it a shot. update if / when that happens!

EDIT - he asked me out lol we shall see how it goes.

0 notes

survivenovascotia · 5 years ago

Text

Episode 5 - they finally swapped us - Austin

I’m taking more of a leadership role on this tribe, trying to make more calls with the challenge. On a smaller tribe it is less risky to do that, and also more risky to go to tribal if people find a reason to target you its easy to get numbers. Dylan especially is a worry for me, in the past he has turned on me for absolutely no reason, so idk how much I can trust him. Dan seems ok, he gave us good intel about the other tribe. Still makes sense to vote him out if we go to tribal though lets not make enemies out of the og tribe just to save one guy.

Tribe swap. Honestly I’m not freakin out abt it bc I’ve got Stephen & Austin who’ve both been pretty good in challenges so. Hopefully I can Michelle my way to the merge Even seems chill he’s just got a russel hantz profile picture which is a lil susp Although I’ll admit I’m a lil sad this is a cooperative challenge bc I really don’t work well cooperatively. Especially when these people are choosing words like CAT and WASHINGTON DC have y’all never played scattergories the object is to get the most random ass answers. We can’t put Unagi that’s way too common, we gotta put UNI, which means sea urchin & is a delicacy. If someone else puts uni I would literally cry I’d be such a clown Xiomara? BITXH have y’all seen Jane the Virgin? Hell no!! We putting Serena spelled with an X. She’s a character in a short story I wrote it’s a real name look it up. Sorry to rant I just can’t believe one of these boys chose Cat. Cat. R u joking

So after 4 straight wins from my tribe they finally swapped us. Dylan, me, eric,and stephen from my og tribe long with dan from the other tribe. I like it and think we are gonna do well together. Dan told me sunshine said I was trustworthy which I appreciated. I dont wanna lose any challenges but if we do I feel maybe i should try and save dan? Idk i wanna be a lil more risky then i usually play in other games. Just gotta see what happens but idc to flip for my own game to do better.

LOCK & MANCALA. LOCK & MANCALA mancala is like the most famous board game WHY did we choose that I said to go with Master Trainer: Pokémon why was that not CHOSEN I hope we lose so I can get voted out & be remembered as this seasons biggest bitch

My tummy is saying Fuck rn. I don't know how this tie breaker is gonna go

So what I am thinking it is going to be like is between Keegan and Coco but like Coco is my number 1 out here rn. Glo says she will protect me and Im trying to see what chips is feeling but I feel even when he says things Im like is this legit? Keegan wants to try working with me. I have to weigh my options but if I vote people from OG Musquodoboit tribe I upset everyone else there, if I vote Keegan, Who knows where on the totem pole I can be with the OG tribe.

It has been brought to my attention that the person I’ve been referring to as ‘even’ is actually dan. ukmmmmmmmmmmm okcay also MICHELLE let’s keep this Queen energy to the merge 😈😈

I think I’m cursed. This will be the fifth tribal council in a row I’m attending. Like how does this even happen? And of course I had to be dumb enough to step up and do the tie breaker which sent us to tribal. At first glance this could very well be the end of my game. Getting swap fucked is becoming a personality trait of mine at this point. However, Heather and I have been messaging and she said she’s going to talk to Chips and see about making a move to keep me in the game. I’m not sure who we’d vote out between Coco and Gloria but honestly I don’t care as long as I stay in the game.

Hosts, Admins and VL. I made a chart that went like 6 layers deep in before it would deadend and I’m like “oh okay it must be at the 6 layer mark”. Nope I got down to 8 layers (T1 was the first) and I feel like it’s either claimed or it’s down that path. In other news, my two biggest obstacles is the OG other tribe -_- me forgetting the other tribe’s name. The second obstacle is Kyle. Kyle thinks he runs the joint and I just play a “Sheeple” game when in reality I’m trying to make small moves to further myself in the game. Kyle and Livingston are close and Kyle, myself and Darcy are tight. Sunshine is the odd one out and a easy boot.

youtube

Update since recording, I think Chips is leaning more towards keeping Keegan oof im a swing vote then oof

Maybe I’m just getting massively played right now but I currently have an alliance chat with Heather and Chips and we’re deciding on voting Coco or Glo. And I have Coco asking me if I’d vote for Glo. Maybe I’m being bamboozled but this is actually looking a little bit promising for me staying in the game right now. I don’t want to get my hopes up too much. The last time that did I got annihilated.

Did I just suggest a Chips blindside? I- don't know. I am AHHHH. I am in a bad position next round that's FOR SURE

So unfortunately we are going to tribal. At first I thought Keegan would be an easy vote BUT Chips started playing dirty. He made a chat with Heather&Keegan and tried to form "majority" with them. They were discussing whether to eliminate me or Glo. I'm not having it. Heather and I came up with the plan to blindside Chips because he probably wouldn't see it coming. I kept telling Chips I was SO worried,SO nervous because none is talking to me but it's just all an act. Hopefully we can get rid of either Chips or Keegan tonight and even flush an idol if they use it on Keegan.

So ummm, Operation Chips Gone is under way. I am HELLA nervous! Idk if this is gonna work but I feel HELLA bad.

ok Chips has turned on me saying I am weak link on tribe and wants me voted out with Keegan staying safe, Heather and CoCO are in alliance with me and tipped me off. So our vote is CHIPS. but we all three fear the idol situation. So I may not survive but calling me weak link who beat Chips ass in Scavenger hunt and came from behind to do so lol yeppers Glo beat Chips. Anyways it might be good bye GLO GLO tonight and if so I did my best. That would be end for me I guess. <3 GLO <3

I think if we were on larger tribes and the challenge was different I might have thrown it. Bit as it is tribal only presents three options: a) vote out dan, which is not a big move or anything and is not going to change much. b) save dan, and vote out someone from my og tribe, which would piss off 8 other people I had ground work with, and c) Dan pulls something out of his ass and survives, voting one of us out. So yeah, no good scenarios for my long term game at tribal. However without it I can keep my relationships while also building new bridges with Dan that could help come merge and further.

If Glo is truly the vote tonight, I’m probably going to cry. Not even going to sugar coat it. I’ll be crying. She’s just so pure and so nice and just this incredible person. I’m trying to not let it sway my judgement too much. I’m tearing up just thinking about her leaving. But if Heather and Chips are being honest with me and not conspiring against me they’ve both said they’d vote for Glo. And all I need to do right now is stay in the game. Against all odds, I might just manage to stay in the game in a disasterous 4v1 swap. The biggest downside after this is getting Evan(?) back from Oak Island. I’m praying he’s not close with Heather and Chips or I might not survive another tribal.

So we got swapped onto a tribe of 5... and lost the first immunity challenge on that tribe. Keegan is the obvious vote since he got swapped onto our tribe. I'd rather not. Spent all day lying to Glo telling her I was going to vote him. If for some reason that's not the case and Glo doesn't go, cool. I got gamed. Also, I'm in an alliance chat with Heather and Keegan and lowkey I love it. I want to see this be a final 3 but I'm not going to get ahead of myself.

Conspiracy theory: coco, glo & Keegan voted out chips, heather on the outs. No fucking clue why but it’s the only thing that makes sense. This whole game is so scary I’m like watching blindsides & murdering happening & im just chillin on the sidelines

KEEGAN SURVIVED! I’m so happy for him! That’s all I wanted. Hopefully Keegan and Dan can make merge. I wanna throw the F14 immunity to send home Sunshine but that’s just a thought. I always said my two biggest obstacles were the OG other tribe and Kyle. That’s still true but maybe there’s hope for the first obstacle!

Oh damn, I didn’t see that coming. There are two possible situations here: 1) That Keegan managed to pull two votes in with promises and shit, and 2) That there was a pre-existing alliance against Chips (and others) that I wasn’t aware of. This is worrying, not only did I just lose someone I wanted to work with but it shows I’m not that aware of what’s going on. Not good.

I watched the tribal council. Keegan wasn’t even on the chopping block which is great. Glo seems like a lovely lady and seems easy to bond and manipulate. Great for me 🐍. Our alliance including Dan, with Keegan and his allies can make a strong group and potential majority. I feel like at merge I can play my cards right and secret pull strings.

Chips was voted out which is honestly a big surprise to me but at least I’m still here! Who survived a 4v1 Swap Fucking? This guy!

0 notes

willsherjohnkhan · 7 years ago

Text

The Homeless Network

Follow up to The League of Red-Headed Gentlemen

RATED: Mature

Chapter 1: The Eyes & Ears of London

***

For all intents and purposes the homeless were invisible. Or at least they were to the many Londoners’ that rushed past them. They moved along as quickly as they could, never making eye contact or sparing a thought as to what would lead someone to choose to live life rough on the streets.

It was this aspect that made The Homeless Network the invaluable asset that they were. They saw and heard all manner of things that they weren’t supposed to.

People were so careless around them. They didn’t care what they said and did in front of them. The homeless they regarded as non-entities, having little to no value.

Sherlock Holmes knew better.

Being one of them for a time had taught him that.

***

Chapter 2: Old Habits

***

DRUG DEN SOMEWHERE IN LONDON – THE PRESENT

It had been three months since he’d last seen her. Not since that night, the night when she had been the one to deduce him and what he’d known about The Red Headed League.

He had tried to talk to her, see her since then. But she’d refused, even going so far as to restrict his access to the morgue at Bart’s so that he wasn’t permitted to enter if it was her shift.

She said she still needed time.

It hadn’t occurred to him how much his unwillingness to share with her what he knew would hurt her. In fact, he still wasn’t sure he understood.

He hadn’t deduced quite how she’d react. He’d been so confident that he could talk her round.

But he couldn’t.

Instead he’d lost her.

“Sheeza,” Billy Wiggins shook the unconscious man with growing urgency. But there was no response.

He lifted a limp wrist, noting the multiple injection sights that resembled a pincushion. The drug had been injected recently, and of a high dosage, if ‘Sheeza’s’ comatose state was anything to go by.

An intervention was needed, and for that Billy was going to need help, and he knew exactly where to go.

***

DR J. H. WATSON’S MEDICAL PRACTICE

John Watson let out a sigh of relief when his last patient for the day left. It had been an extremely busy day, and all he wanted to do was go home to his wife and baby daughter and relax.

What he didn’t need was a possibly drug affected madman barging into his surgery. He was just getting ready to wrestle the man out when the man said.

“Sheeza’s in a bad way Doc. I’m real worried about ‘im.”

He immediately recognised the man as one of Sherlock’s Homeless Network. It was his self-appointed protégé, Wiggins.

Without a second thought John responded. “Take me to him.”

Wiggins eagerly obeyed.

***

DRUG DEN

But when they got there, Sherlock was gone.

The only sign that he’d been there was a hand written note he’d left pinned to the wall.

‘You can’t help me this time John, no one can. Tell Molly I’m sorry, for everything.’ SH

DRUG DEN – AN HOUR EARLIER

As soon as Billy had rushed off, Sherlock knew where he was headed. It was time for him to move on.

He quickly scribbled a note, collected the few belongings he had with him and headed back out on the streets.

***

THE STREET’S OF LONDON

With the drugs still in his system, Sherlock was finding it difficult to concentrate. It usually took him a couple of hours on average to come down from his drug-induced high. But circumstances had meant that he had been forced to leave before he had his cognitive faculties back in order.

That and the fact it been several years since he’d last seriously indulged. The Magnussen case didn’t count, he’d made sure that he’d only used enough to give the impression he was back on drugs.

Absently he rubbed his cheek as he remembered Molly’s reaction after she’d performed the drug test John had requested.

ST BART’S PATHOLOGY LAB

The usually sweet, adorable Molly was nowhere to be seen as she let rip, slapping him twice on one cheek, once on the other.

Shaking with an uncontrolled mixture of rage and disappointment, she looked him right in the eye as she vented her feelings. “How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with, and how dare you betray the love of your friends. Say you’re sorry.”

How he wished she’d reacted the same way when she’d worked out that Irene Adler had been behind The Red Headed League. At least then it would have brought everything to a head.

But as things were, with her unwillingness to see or speak to him about it made him fear that she was withdrawing from him, not just physically but emotionally as well.

When she’d slapped him that day in the lab it had shown absolutely how much she still cared.

And if she no longer did…

The very thought made him stumble to a halt. Leaning against the nearest hard surface, Sherlock allowed his suddenly wobbly legs to collapse under him as he slid down to the cold, hard pavement.

He sat lost in thought.

He needed Molly, wanted her… loved her.

But had he ever told her? Shown her how irreplaceable she was to him?

Damn the drugs, they were making him overly sentimental. He shook his head vigorously in a vain attempt to clear his mind of such thoughts.

What he wouldn’t give now for a case…

***

THE STREET’S OF LONDON – EIGHT YEARS BEFORE

Pain, that told him that he’d been lying in the awkward position for quite some time. The cold, hard, gritty surface that rubbed against his stubbled cheek indicated he was outside. The vibrations of cars as they made there way at regular intervals led to there being only one logical conclusion about his current whereabouts.

Slowly raising his head that felt like it weighed twice what it should, he silently ordered his eyes that preferred to remain ignorant to open and face the harsh reality and inescapable truth.

He way laying facedown in a gutter on the side of the road, with no memory of how he ended up there.

Morphine was his current opiate of choice.

Drug’s helped to calm the constant clamour in his mind. They slowed the chaos going on within his brain. They reduced the loud voices down to a gentle murmur. They relaxed him, and let him sleep.

That is what he told himself over and over as he attempted to focus on his surroundings.

As his vision gradually cleared he became aware of a pair of battered old boots inches from his face.

“You look as if you’re in need of help,” noted the owner of the boots in a gruff but kindly voice. “I think I can help you there.”

***

Chapter 3: A Brother's Account

***

THE DIOGENES CLUB, VISITOR’S ROOM – THE PRESENT

Mycroft Holmes led John into the only room where speaking was permitted before closing the door securely behind them.

He made his way over to a chair in the middle of the room. Before sitting he poured himself a large whisky and indicated for John to sit in the chair opposite.

“What do I owe the honour of this visit?” he asked, though John was certain he already knew.

“Information,” he replied.

“Concerning?” it was clear Mycroft was still miffed over the events of The Red Headed League and was determined to draw things out as long as possible.

Except John wasn’t in the mood to play games. He’d come to get answers and he wasn’t leaving until he got them. “I need to know about Sherlock…”

“I don’t know where he is.”

Refusing to allow Mycroft’s petulant attitude to deter him. John leaned forward and pointed out. “I didn’t ask you where he was Mycroft. And before you say anything further I know bloody well that you do know where he is, you always do.”

Something in the former army doctor’s expression warned Mycroft to tread carefully when he responded. “What is it you want to know?” he finally asked in resignation.

John relaxed back into his chair. “I want to know about Sherlock’s drug addiction. When did it begin, and why?”

Mycroft’s expression became thoughtful as he observed the man sitting opposite him. It was clear that the minor government official was debating how much he should reveal.

“You have to understand John,” he began. “Sherlock and I found it extremely difficult dealing with the average person. We’ve both become more adept at it as adults, but while we were growing up it was incredibly difficult.”

John knew on a rudimentary level the difficulties that child prodigies suffered. But he needed details. Details specific to Sherlock.

“Such as?”

Mycroft let out a dramatic sigh. “The usual,” he began. When John leant forward once again he quickly went into specifics, or at least those details that would be pertinent to John’s understanding of what made Sherlock the way he was. “It may surprise you to learn John, but as a young boy Sherlock was a very sensitive child.”

“Go on.”

“The young Sherlock fully embraced the concept of sentiment, despite my best efforts to educate him on such a folly.”

“I’m sure you did.” John noted wryly.

“Things especially came to a head with Redbeard.”

“Redbeard?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow in surprise. “He’s never mentioned Redbeard?”

John shook his head.

“Interesting.”

“Who’s Redbeard?”

“You should ask him when you see him next. Suffice it to say that the little boy who dreamed of being a pirate needed a first mate and he found the perfect one in Redbeard.”

“What happened?” John asked, though he was fairly confident he knew the answer.

“Redbeard died,” Mycroft responded. “Heartbroken he came to me to teach him how to block sentiment and all other painful and unnecessary emotions.”

“That was good of you,” John noted, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

“Sadly Sherlock was not the best of students. I could get him to a certain point and then he’d try to make friends, impress others, and try to be accepted by his peers. It always ended in tears. And then he went off to university.”

“What happened at uni?”

“He was introduced to drugs,” Mycroft stated simply. “They became his solution for distancing himself from the distraction and destructive forces of emotional entanglements.”

“And what did you do about it?”

“Once we became aware of just how bad the situation was he was placed in one of England’s most prestigious rehabilitation facilities.”

“Did it work?”

“To a point.”

“How many times has he relapsed between then and now?”

“A handful of times. But minor in comparison to this latest episode.”

Cautiously John queried. “And what do you put that down to?”

Mycroft smiled coolly. “Since meeting you Sherlock has once again opened himself up to the possibilities offered by sentiment. His recent attachment to Doctor Hooper has certainly made him extremely vulnerable to the emotions surrounding matters of the heart. This is one area for which he has little experience. The emotion not the physical act.”

When John made no comment, Mycroft clarified his statement.

“It amuses me that so many people assume Sherlock is a virgin. But I can assure you that my little brother while high on whatever drug of choice he happened to be on, has had his fair share of sexual encounters. As to whether he remembers the exact details, well I’ll leave that to your… imagination.”

Observing Mycroft’s smug, self-satisfied smirk had John getting up from his seat and without a backward glance leaving the room. If he stayed a moment longer he knew that there was a fair to reasonable chance that he would have done something he knew he wouldn’t have regretted.

***

SALVATION ARMY SOUP KITCHEN – EIGHT YEARS BEFORE

Old Harry as the old man had introduced himself, led Sherlock to a table where they both sat and began to eat the food on their trays.

At least Sherlock attempted to. Except that every mouthful he ate might as well have been sawdust for the lack of taste.

He observed the others around him. Everyone else seemed to be chowing down their meals with relish. Some were even going up to get seconds.

Confused by his inability to taste the food in front of him, his nose soon gave him a clue as it began to twitch with distaste.

It was then that Sherlock became acutely aware of the fragrant hum that permeated the air around him.

It came from the other people who sat at their table.

“Ah now, none of that,” Harry said a little impatiently, having clearly interpreted Sherlock’s thoughts. “We’re all equals here.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but was silenced by the stern expression of his companion.

“There’s a lot you have to learn Sherlock if you want to survive on the streets,” Harry stated firmly. “The first is that you leave your airs and graces behind you, they wont serve you here. The second is acceptance of your fellow street dwellers. You’re now in the same position as them. Treat them with respect and they’ll teach you how to survive. Remember that.”

***

THE STREETS OF LONDON - THE PRESENT

Sherlock was knocked out of his Mind Palace when his head was smacked hard against the building where he was currently sitting.

“Sherlock!” came the desperate plea from a young woman who was crouched down in front of him. She shook him vigorously again to make sure she had his attention.

He instantly recognised her as a member of his Homeless Network.

She looked scared.

“What’s happened Alice?”

Alice got to her feet before pulling Sherlock to his. “This way,” she said as she grabbed hold of his hand and dragged him down the street.

SEVERAL BLOCKS AWAY

Alice led Sherlock to a little park.

“Over there,” she said pointing in the direction of some bushes.

Sherlock made his way over. It didn’t take him long to discover what Alice had brought him to see.

Lying under the bush as if asleep was a homeless man. Pinned to his shirt was a note. It read:

‘The labour of the righteous leads to life; the activity of the wicked leads to sin.’

Sherlock stared at the note for several minutes. Its implications bringing back unwelcome memories.

It was happening again.

***

Chapter 4: Housekeeping

***

HYDE PARK – EIGHT YEARS BEFORE

He knew Harry was dead even before he checked his pulse. The old man’s skin was cold to the touch, so he’d been dead some time.

Sherlock frowned. Harry had recently moved into temporary accommodation provided by The Salvation Army. There was no reason for him to be living rough, yet here he was.

An initial inspection showed that his few personal possessions were not on him. They would have been of no monetary value to anyone wishing to steal them. And anyway, if anyone had attempted to take them Harry would’ve put up a fight for them. Yet it was clear that no such altercation had taken place. There were no marks of violence upon the body that Sherlock could see. In fact in his current position, resting as he was curled up on his side, Harry presented an image of one who was at peace.

Given his age, somewhere between 65-70, coupled with his poor health that Sherlock had deduced had not been good for a number of years and hadn’t been improved by living on the streets, his death could hardly be regarded as suspicious.

And yet… something wasn’t right.

Crouching down, Sherlock began examining the body more closely.

A quick smell of his mouth had Sherlock wrinkling his nose at the telltale scent of vomit. But he could detect no sign of alcohol, Harry’s main vice and the cause of his decent into homelessness.

Sitting back on his haunches Sherlock sat in silent contemplation. There was any number of plausible explanations for the old man’s death. Natural causes, an undiagnosed heart condition.

These explanations were simple, straightforward and to the point.

But wrong.

Why?

Sherlock again leant down over the body, as he did so he caught a whiff of something. It wasn’t aftershave, or perfume, or any type of soap or lotion that he was aware of. The scent tickled at the edges of his consciousness, but before he could name it, it had slipped free, vanishing into the breeze.

His attention was suddenly caught by a slip of paper clutched in the old man’s hand.

A closer examination was enough to convince Sherlock that the paper had been placed in Harry’s hand after death.

Unwilling to disturb the body lest he contaminate any evidence, he attempted to read what had been scribbled on the paper.

‘… feed many, but fools die for lack…’

Sherlock re-read the words several times, but could make little sense of them.

He was certain that they’d been written for a reason, but he was at a loss as to their exact meaning.

What to do then?

The Police he knew would need to be contacted. But would they be concerned over the death of yet another vagrant who chose to live on the street?

There was nothing for it. Official channels needed to be put into action. Sherlock was convinced that once the police saw the note, which in itself indicated that Harry’s death couldn’t be regarded as natural or accidental. That left only one logical explanation. It was murder, premeditated murder.

***

221B BAKER STREET – THE PRESENT

John had no sooner opened the front door than Mrs Hudson came rushing out of her flat.

It was apparent from her crestfallen expression that she’d hoped the one walking through the door would be Sherlock. But she quickly rallied her spirits, ushering the doctor into her flat. “Come in John, come in.”

But no matter how cheerful she tried to sound it was clear she was worried.

“Sit down John,” she insisted as she busied herself with preparing them both a cup of tea. “Any news?” she asked as she brought the cups over to the table where John was seated.

He waited until she had sat down before replying. “Not as yet.”

The hope in the landlady’s eyes died.

“I’m certain Mycroft and Lestrade are keeping an eye out for him and Wiggins is checking with the homeless network. He’ll be found soon and I’m sure he’ll be fine, this is Sherlock we’re talking about,” John attempted to reassure her.

Unfortunately his words had the opposite effect, leaving her looking even more distressed.

John reached over, taking one of her hands in his. “Can you tell me anything about Sherlock’s younger days? Mycroft said he started using drugs at uni…”

“I don’t know that it’s really my place to say,” Mrs Hudson replied.

“I need to understand,” John pleaded.

Mrs Hudson took a deep breath. “Very well, I’ll tell you what I can,” she said. “What do you want to know?”

“The drug use, how bad was it?”

“I don’t know the full details of Sherlock’s drug addiction, what I’ve been told is largely second hand. If you require a more detailed account you need to speak to his mother.”

John nodded. “I understand.”

“University instead of being the ideal solution ended up becoming a total nightmare. Sherlock’s parents thought that by going to university he might finally start making friends. And he did, just not the type they were hoping for,” Mrs Hudson paused to collect her thoughts. “By the time they found out about his drug use, he’d already been experimenting with a wide range. He claimed he was doing it as part of a science experiment, ‘the affects of narcotics on a superior mind’. Then when they got him into rehab he caused a hullabaloo, demanding they give him his drugs because they helped to calm and quieten his mind.”

John had only witnessed Sherlock’s drug use once to his knowledge. But he had seen the affects prolonged drug use had on people and how they behaved when they couldn’t get their next fix.

“Were drugs his only vice?”

“John,” Mrs Hudson admonished gently. “You know the answer to that as well as I do.”

John shrugged. “Just checking. So Sherlock was already putting his deductive skills to use?” he asked distractedly as he remembered Sherlock telling him about his first case, Carl Powers as well as the comments made by one of Sherlock’s former uni associates at the time of the case he’d chronicled under the title The Blind Banker.

“Well he had to put that colossal brain of his to some practical use,” Mrs Hudson noted with a smile. “Though to be fair the idea of turning his rather unorthodox observational skills and using them in a professional manner wasn’t Sherlock’s idea at all.”

This was news to John, the second time that day that he’d heard something about Sherlock that he had no knowledge of. He certainly did appear drawn to people who either had secrets or knew how to keep them.

“So who’s idea was it?” he asked.

“Sherlock did have one friend at university, Victor Trevor. He found Sherlock’s abilities intriguing, where others were made uncomfortable by them.”

“They wouldn’t be the last.” John noted dryly.

“No,” Mrs Hudson agreed. “Anyway, Victor had told his father all about Sherlock, and his father was likewise curious about these amazing abilities. So at term break Mr Trevor invited Sherlock to accompany Victor to the family home. It was Victor’s father who spotted a potential career choice for the gifts that up until then Sherlock used mainly to relieve boredom.”

“Well at least we now know who to blame,” John joked, but immediately became serious when he saw Mrs Hudson’s expression.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Mr Trevor may have had an ulterior motive for asking Sherlock to visit. It turned out that he had become the victim of a blackmailer, someone he knew from his younger days.”

“Was Sherlock able to help out?”

“I believe so,” Mrs Hudson nodded. “But not before Mr Trevor died. The probable cause was a stress related heart attack.”

“Was Sherlock involved in many cases after that?”

“The odd one or two. After university he moved to London and rented a flat in Montague Street. It was while there that another former university associate, Reginald Musgrave engaged him concerning the disappearance of an employee.”

“How did that case turn out?”

“Not well for the employee, he was found dead. He’d come across a family heirloom belonging to the Musgrave family. Something called The Musgrave Ritual. To Reg and previous generations of his family it was nothing more than a silly children’s nursery rhyme. But this employee realised that the words of the rhyme were in fact directions.”

“To what?”

“Buried treasure.”

“You’re kidding me!” John exclaimed.

“No dear,” Mrs Hudson shook her head. “All true. And what’s more, they found it.”

“What was it?”

“I believe it was the crown of Charles I, but you’d need to verify that with Sherlock.”

Mrs Hudson got up, collected their cups and took them over to the sink.

“So that’s how Sherlock became a consulting detective,” John mused aloud.

“Oh no,” Mrs Hudson corrected. “That happened about, oh, eight years or so ago. Sherlock was using drugs again and was living on the streets at the time. I seem to remember there was something about the death of an elderly homeless man. If you want more details you might want to speak to Inspector Lestrade, its how they met.”

John got up and walked over to his former landlady and gave her a kiss on the cheek, before heading out. “Thanks Mrs H, I’ll do that.”

“Keep me informed if you hear anything,” Mrs Hudson called out after him.

“Will do,” John replied.

***

Chapter 5: The Police Report

***

NEW SCOTLAND YARD – THE PRESENT

When John walked into Lestrade’s office, the detective inspector remarked. “I wondered when you’d get to me.”

“How did you…?” John began as he took a seat opposite.

Lestrade snorted in annoyance. “I have been in the Police Force over twenty years, John,” he remarked. “I may not possess Sherlock’s particular skill-set, but I am perfectly capable of working out certain things, especially when they concern me as well,” he paused briefly before continuing. “You’re concerned about Sherlock, and you’ve been attempting to understand the man before you knew him, in the hope that it will help to make sense of why he has chosen to go back to a life on the streets.”

“Is that how you first met him?” John asked, genuinely curious. “On the streets.”

***

HYDE PARK – EIGHT YEARS BEFORE

Sherlock stood guard over Harry’s body, having sent another homeless person to fetch the police.

But when the Police eventually turned up, Sherlock was left disappointed and dismayed by their lack of professionalism.

After almost completely trampling the ground around the body, and a brief examination of Old Harry’s body, the detective in charge was of the opinion that the death was not suspicious. Detective Jones was satisfied that it was clearly an open and shut case of suicide, nothing more.

Before Sherlock could point out the features of interest that his own examination had found, the police had departed the scene, far quicker than the time it had taken them to arrive.

Sherlock stood where he was a moment, completely stunned.

But once Harry’s body was taken away Sherlock was determined that his mentor and friend would receive justice.

***

NEW SCOTLAND YARD – EIGHT YEARS BEFORE

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade had just settled into his chair in his new office when he became aware of a commotion. Sighing in resignation he reluctantly got up from his seat and went to investigate the ruckus.

What he found was a couple of constables attempting to restrain a young homeless man. But it was clear he was not your regular deadbeat down-and-out. This young man was tall, with a mass of unruly curly hair, had a bearing and grace about him. He also possessed a very commanding voice and attitude. Clearly someone used to getting his own way.

“Anyone with eyes can see it wasn’t suicide,” the man stated in growing agitation.

Detective Jones looked at the man with unconcealed contempt. The last thing he needed was some posh git, who clearly dabbled a bit too often with illegal narcotics, cocaine would be his guess, trying to lord it over him. It was clear that despite his current situation he’d come from a well-to-do upbringing. As far as Jones was concerned all the young man’s airs and graces, and so-called connections stood for naught compared to the facts at hand.

“It was suicide,” he snarled. “Life had become too hard on the street…”

“He’d moved into accommodation provided by the Salvation Army.”

“He’d left a note.”

“Some random quote from the Bible, not written in his own hand.”

“He’d overdosed.”

“Alcohol was Harry’s vice, not drugs.”

The young man intrigued Lestrade. He was clearly intelligent, but his attitude would likely see him being charged, with insubordination and thrown in the slammer, if Jones’ expression was anything to go by.

Stepping forward Lestrade addressed his comments to the young man. “Why don’t we take this conversation into my office, yeah?”

The man looked at Lestrade, assessing him and his sincerity. Whatever he read had him relaxing and nodding his head in agreement.

The constables immediately released him and he followed Lestrade into his office.

***

NEW SCOTLAND YARD – THE PRESENT

“So was it suicide?” John asked.

“That was the official finding. But Sherlock never believed it.”

“Well he wouldn’t, would he?”

“No,” Lestrade replied, though it was clear he was lost in thought.

John got to his feet. “Thanks Greg. Let me know if you hear anything.”

“Yeah, will do.” Lestrade responded as he too got to his feet and lead John to the door.

Ten minutes after John left, Sherlock barged into his office.

“It’s happening again Lestrade. We have to do something.”

Apart from his clothes and his unkempt appearance, Sherlock appeared no different than his normal demanding self. A little agitated maybe…

“I’m fine Lestrade,” Sherlock snapped quickly becoming frustrated with the detective inspectors lack of response to his request.

Lestrade shook his head ruefully. ‘Yep, same old Sherlock.’ “What’s happening again?”

As Sherlock finished his explanation, Lestrade’s mobile rang.

“Yeah, right. We’ll be there shortly.” Putting his phone away, he grabbed his jacket. “Your homeless person has been taken to the morgue at Barts. Coming?”

Instead of barging off ahead as was usual with Sherlock, he hung back. Lestrade knew why the consulting detective was hesitating. Going to Barts meant seeing Molly. Lestrade had absolutely no idea what had gone wrong with Sherlock and Molly’s relationship. Neither of them would talk about it. But it is clear that being apart wasn’t making either of them any happier.

“You can’t avoid her forever Sherlock,” he said. “At some point you’re going to have to face Molly, and it might as well be now.”

***

Chapter 6: Straight to the Heart

***

BART’S MORGUE – THE PRESENT

Molly waited anxiously for Lestrade and Sherlock to arrive. Greg had texted her that they were on their way.

She hadn’t seen Sherlock for several months. She’d needed time to get over the hurt she had felt on realising that he had known all along that Irene Adler had been behind The Red-Headed League. At the time she’d convinced herself she was justified, but as weeks turned into months she realised that she may have overreacted. At the very least she should have allowed Sherlock to explain.

At that moment a dishevelled and clearly uncomfortable Sherlock entered the morgue in the company of Lestrade, Molly thought her heart would break, he looked so lost, so unsure of himself. Without hesitation she made her way over to Sherlock and drew him aside so they could speak in private.

Sherlock braced himself, remembering clearly the last time he’d faced Molly when he’d temporarily returned to using drugs. At least then it had been for a case.

But her response to his appearance this time had nothing to do with anger.

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock for the way I behaved,” she began.

“You’re…you’re sorry?” the consulting detective responded, clearly taken aback by her words.

“Yes,” she confirmed as tears welled up in her expressive eyes. “Can you forgive me for the way I acted? I have no excuse other than that I was afraid…”

‘Afraid?’

This was not at all how he’d imagined this conversation would go. He’d been so certain that Molly would be disgusted by him and angry that he slipped back into substance abuse. Instead she was pleading for his forgiveness.

“Afraid? Why were you afraid?” he queried, his voice cracking with emotions so long suppressed. Then a worrying thought occurred to him. “Not of me…?”

“No! No, no,” Molly hastily assured him.

“Then why?” he asked, now genuinely confused.

“I shouldn’t have walked out that night, after The League of Red-Headed Gentlemen case had been sorted. I should have had more faith in you… Trusted you.”

Though Molly had started her explanation calmly, she soon became more emotional.

“I was afraid that you would tire of me before our relationship ever got a chance to develop. I was so certain that you’d get bored with me, and had even convinced myself that that was possibly why our relationship hadn’t gone any further…intimately speaking.”

Molly cringed as she heard the words she was speaking aloud. It all sounded so ridiculous, but she conceded that’s what happened when you allowed your insecurities to take control. Taking a deep breath she finished her explanation. “It seemed to be the only explanation for your not confiding in me about…” She paused briefly, glancing over at Lestrade, who was doing a terrible job of trying to not look like he was watching the couple. “That woman,” she finished quietly, so that only Sherlock could hear.

“You can’t honestly believe that I would ever leave you for…” Sherlock responded in disbelief.

But the look on Molly’s face brought him up short. And he instantly berated himself for not recognising Molly’s need for a little reassurance. In his defence he was still very new to the whole relationship thing. His previous encounters nothing more than sexual liaisons, a means to ridding himself of pent up sexual frustration without the emotional entanglements associated with developing a loving relationship with a significant other. And that too was probably why their relationship hadn’t gone any further than kissing and cuddling. He’d feared that once they’d become sexually intimate, ‘made love’, then that would be the trigger for him to pull away before he became too emotionally involved.

With a rueful laugh, Sherlock gathered Molly into his arms. “Oh Molly mine,” he murmured into her ear. “What fools we’ve been.”

Molly released a sigh of heartfelt relief and nodded her head in agreement as she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled up against the reassuring beat of his heart.

A subtle clearing of a throat was enough to remind Sherlock that he was at Barts for a reason. With great reluctance he released his hold on Molly and stepped back.

“So,” he said, as he cleared his throat and made his way over to the covered corpse, and waited for Molly to join him.

“I’ll let you know my findings,” Molly promised him. “And I’ll compare what I find with what appeared in the pathology reports from the original case.”

Sherlock turned to Lestrade. It was clear from the cheeky grin he received from the Detective Inspector that he’d contacted Molly before their arrival.

He turned back to Molly. “Well I’ll leave things in your capable hands, while I head bake to Baker Street to change.”

“And have a bath,” Molly added.

Sherlock glared at her, but there was a mischievous glint in his eye. Then to Molly, and Lestrade’s complete surprise Sherlock pulled Molly into his arms and snogged her breathless, before turning to sweep dramatically out of the morgue.

The World’s Only Consulting Detective was back.

***

Chapter 7: Turning Detective

***

221B BAKER STREET – THE PRESENT

When John entered Sherlock’s flat the telltale sound of running water alerted him to the consulting detective’s current location.

Flopping down into his old chair, the former army doctor pulled out his mobile phone and re-read the text he’d received twenty minutes earlier.

Meet me at Baker St. SH

It was the first communication he’d had from his friend following the fallout from the conclusion of The League of Red-Headed Gentlemen case; the brief note left at the drug den notwithstanding.

He was just putting his phone back in his pocket when Sherlock emerged from the bathroom. Though clean-shaven and impeccably dressed, his gaunt appearance spoke volumes about the toll that this latest relapse into addiction had taken on him physically, and no doubt emotionally.

But before John could question him, an agitated Billy Wiggins burst into the room.

“You was right Sheeza.”

In the blink of an eye Sherlock was once again the hard-edged criminal investigator, as he brusquely demanded. “Which one?”

“All three,” came the reply.

Rubbing his hands together, the detective responded excitedly. “Ohhh! Better and better.”

John looked from one to the other in complete and utter confusion, hoping that an explanation would soon be forthcoming. When it became clear that this wasn’t going to happen he decided to remind both men of his presence. “Care to share?”

Sherlock immediately fired off the necessary facts. “The three main suspects in a series of unexplained deaths from eight years ago have returned to the scene of the crime, at the precise moment that more deaths have started occurring.”

John watched his friend closely. There was something about this case that differed from others they’d worked together on. He recalled Greg’s story about the homeless man who’d apparently suicided several years before.

Choosing to test a theory, John finally surmised. “So, someone’s killing homeless people again?”

If Sherlock was surprised he didn’t show it, simply responding “Very good John. I see Lestrade has told you about how The Homeless Network came into being.”

“Not all, but some.” John admitted.

Impatient as he was to get on with his investigation Sherlock knew a brief explanation, for the time being, was needed. “Eight years ago a homeless man I knew died, in somewhat suspicious circumstances.” Though his explanation began calmly enough, the memory of that time caused the usually unflappable detective to become emotional. “Most of the fools at Scotland Yard dismissed the death as suicide. As far as they were concerned it was one less individual living rough for them to worry about. It was clear that the only way to get anything done was to investigate the case myself. To that end I decided to set up a network that I could use to assist me in investigating his death as well as those of other homeless men and women whose deaths all took place around the same time. The obvious choice was those people that these deaths most affected, and it grew from there…”

***

OUTSIDE NEW SCOTLAND YARD – EIGHT YEARS BEFORE

Sherlock was furious when he emerged from New Scotland Yard.

They were all idiots, lazy, incompetent…

Though, to be fair there had been one, Inspector Lestrade, who appeared to be a more than reasonable man, and an above average policeman. But for all that he failed to grasp the gravity of the situation, or the significance of what Sherlock had informed Scotland Yard with regards to his knowledge of the victim and the particular something that, admittedly he still couldn’t place, but for which he was absolutely certain would prove beyond a doubt that Old Harry’s death was due to foul play, and not an open and shut suicide.

But just how he could prove it, that was the problem.

HYDE PARK

As Sherlock approached where he’d found Old Harry it was clear that all signs of the police’s involvement had been meticulously removed. In its place a small shrine of flowers had emerged.

Harry had been well respected amongst the homeless. His unexpected death had left many devastated.

A flash of inspiration suddenly took a hold of him. If Scotland Yard wouldn’t investigate, maybe those who had a vested interest in seeing justice done should.

Sherlock felt a growing excitement the more he thought about it, The Homeless Network, perfect! They could go anywhere virtually unseen, or more correctly ignored by the public in general.

A determined glint appeared in his eyes, as he nodded to himself. ‘Yes! This could actually work.’

TWO WEEKS LATER…

It had taken Sherlock longer than he’d anticipated, due in part to his not having developed the level of trust and respect that those living rough had for Old Harry.

But once it got around that Sherlock was actively investigating Harry’s case, a number of homeless offered their assistance.

As with any criminal investigation, there was a set of procedures that were rigorously followed and adhered to.

Harry’s movements 24 hours before his death were reconstructed in detail.

Anyone who had seen him during that period was interviewed, with any relevant information carefully noted down.

As information was accumulated it was discovered that the circumstances of Harry’s death strongly resembled those of several other homeless people who had passed away in questionable circumstances over the previous eight weeks.

Sherlock, confident that he now possessed enough information to get a formal police investigation underway, was left frustrated and angry when he efforts were still dismissed.

Only Detective Inspector Lestrade showed any interest and empathy with his efforts, proving himself a trusted ally by allowing Sherlock access to the autopsy reports. Unfortunately whoever had written the report was completely incompetent, with only a cursory investigation into the cause of death. In conclusion the report agreed with the police finding, and simply verified death by suicide.

Sherlock refused to be defeated, he knew there was more to these deaths than met the eye.

As his investigation continued, three people continued to pop up as persons of interest. Sherlock was certain it couldn’t be a coincidence. And if they were involved, were they working separately, or together?

***

221B BAKER STREET – THE PRESENT

“So your suspects were a preacher, a social worker and a evangelistic homeless man,” John clarified.

“Yes.”

“And they came up on your radar why?”

“It’s difficult to put into words,” Sherlock freely admitted. “You just got the feeling that something was off when you were around them, like they had an agenda…”

“A higher calling perhaps,” John suggested.

“Yes, that’s it! That’s it precisely,” Sherlock exclaimed excitedly.

John nodded with growing understanding. He’d heard of similar cases within the medical profession. Rogue doctors performing unethical, and in many cases illegal procedures, under the belief that because of who they were that they had the right.

“Were you not able to get any information into their backgrounds?”

Sherlock shook his head. “As helpful as Lestrade was, he wasn’t prepared to order a background check purely based on the word of a homeless, junkie tosser like me.”

As he spoke Sherlock collected his belstaff and put it on.

John noted the spring was back in his step, and when the consulting detective turned back to him, there was a definite twinkle in his eye.

“It’s a good thing my word carries more weight these days,” Sherlock remarked before he turned and headed out the door with Billy Wiggins trailing after him.

John shook his head in rueful resignation as he got up from the chair and made his way down the stairs.

The game was once again on.

***

Chapter 8: Justice For All

***

SCOTLAND YARD – THE PRESENT

By the time Sherlock, John and Wiggins arrived at his office Lestrade had requested the background checks Sherlock had wanted, but they had not as yet arrived. In the meanwhile he had retrieved the files relating to Old Harry’s death and the others from eight years ago.

Reading through each file it didn’t take Sherlock long to find exactly what he was expecting to see.

“Look here,” he pointed out to the others. “And here, and here, and here.”

All the victims had been found with a note, with a quote from the Bible. All the notes had been handwritten, and even to the untrained eye, now that they were all together, it was clear to see that they were written in the same hand.

So if they’d been written in the same hand? That meant only one thing. “None of these deaths were caused by natural causes or the result of suicide.”

John was now reading through the medical examination. “There were no signs of violence on any of the bodies,” he noted.

“These deaths were planned. And the victims were more than likely poisoned by someone they knew, and trusted.”

“But surely if they’d been poisoned, it would have shown up in the autopsy reports?” Lestrade argued.

“Depends on the type of poison used, and how it was administered.”

At that moment Sherlock’s mobile pinged. It was a text from Molly.

Come to the Barts. Mx

“Send those reports I asked for to Barts Morgue,” Sherlock instructed as he John and Wiggins headed out the door.

***

BART’S MORGUE

Sherlock swept in and immediately made his way over to where Molly stood.

“You’ve found something,” he correctly surmised, indicating the body she’d completed the autopsy on.

“Yes,” Molly responded. “And based on what I’ve read in the autopsy reports on the other victims, they were all killed the same way.”

Sherlock felt vindicated, and relieved. Here was proof that he had been right, Old Harry and the others had been the victims of murder.

“Cause of death?”

“Tellurium.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow shot up in surprise.

“Or to be more specific,” Molly continued. “Tellurium was used first, before a minuscule dose of sodium-tellurite was introduced into their systems. Over a period of time the toxins built up, leading to internal bleeding and ultimately respiratory failure.”

Sherlock nodded his head thoughtfully. “Clever,” he noted softly.

“Clever?” John queried.

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied. When John continued to look slightly perplexed, Sherlock shook his head demanding with some irritation. “You’re a doctor are you not?”

Before John could retaliate at the jibe, Sherlock went into full deductive mode.

“Tellurium in its elemental form at least is not particularly toxic. But the impact from consuming it leads to certain side effects, most notably bad breath and body odour. As the homeless and poor hygiene have become fairly synonymous to the general public, any homeless person showing these symptoms wouldn’t be regarded as cause for concern.”

“Okay,” John readily acknowledged.

“So it would then be easy to now up the ante and change to sodium tellurite which is far more dangerous, yet the effects from its poisoning could be put down to alcoholic poisoning or a drug overdose.”

John nodded in understanding. “So how come it wasn’t picked up in the original autopsy reports eight years ago?”

“Incompetence,” was the detective’s bitter response.

“Testing for a wider range of poisons has advanced considerably over the last eight years,” Molly pointed out feeling a need to defend a former fellow colleague, though she couldn’t quite meet Sherlock’s eye as she said it.

At that moment Lestrade entered the morgue with the background checks Sherlock wanted.

“You didn’t have to bring them yourself Lestrade.”

“Yeah well, decided I might as well,” the inspector said. “On the off chance you found something in here that could lead to an immediate arrest.”

Sherlock took the files. Glancing through them he immediately dismissed Father Francis O’Leary and Capt. Harold Elliott of the Salvation Army as likely suspects.

But the file relating to Dennis Murray, an evangelistic homeless man caught his attention.

Murray had worked for a company that manufactured DVD-Rs and Blurays. After losing his job, he’d had a few run-ins with the police: drunkenness, involved in fights and stalking...

“Well this looks suggestive,” Sherlock remarked. “He’s had access to tellurium, and has an interesting rap sheet. If nothing else it will be enough to bring him in for questioning.”

“But just because he worked in an industry that uses tellurium doesn’t explain how he was able to purchase it. It’s not like you can just buy it at the local supermarket?” Molly pointed out.

“He may still have contacts within the company,” Sherlock noted. “Or he got it through the black market, or possibly the dark web.”

He handed the report back to Lestrade. “The only way we’ll know for certain is to find him. The network still has eyes on him?” he confirmed as he turned to Wiggins.

Wiggins nodded in the affirmative.

“Then I think it’s time for a little chat with Mr Murray.”

***

CHURCH GRAVEYARD – SEVERAL HOURS LATER

She found him standing before the unmarked grave where Old Harry had been buried. He turned as she approached, and she marvelled at the soft look that came into his eyes, a special expression reserved solely for her.

“He confessed?”

Sherlock nodded. “Murray became fanatically religious after the death of his girlfriend, hoping that religion would give him the answers he sought.”

“Answers to what?”

“He was looking for a way to punish whoever killed her, refusing to believe the courts finding of accidental death. He became so obsessed with the notion that he ended up losing his job.”

“And that was how he ended up homeless?”

“No I think that was a deliberate decision. His girlfriend worked at a soup kitchen that helped feed the homeless. He got it into his head that it must have been a homeless person who killed her. By becoming one, he hoped to learn who was responsible,” he paused briefly. “But somewhere along the way, the need to find a potential murderer was overridden by a need to kill those that wouldn’t be missed.”

“So what happens now?” Molly asked, drawing him away from thoughts of a thoroughly disturbed individual.

Sherlock smiled softly. “Now I intend to have Harry’s remains moved and to be buried properly with a decent headstone.”

Molly looked at where Harry currently rested, and she gave silent thanks to the man who had befriended Sherlock all those years ago, certain that if he hadn’t taken him under his wing, Sherlock would not be where he was today.

As they exited the cemetery Molly noted that something about the case still troubled Sherlock.

“What’s wrong?” she queried softly. “You’ve finally been able to prove that the deaths were murder, and have caught the person responsible.”

“When I found Harry’s body, I detected a scent, but couldn’t place it. Now that we know what killed him and the others, and the signs. How was it possible that I couldn’t identify what it was?”

Taking his arm as they walked along, Molly pointed out. “To be fair Sherlock, you were, as I understand it, using heavily at that time with a variety of drugs.”

“Drugs have helped in the past to heighten my thought processes...” Sherlock began.

But Molly had not finished her explanation. “By all means tell yourself that all you want. But I’m not talking about deductive reasoning. I’m talking about your sense of smell that can be affected depending on the type of drug you’re on.”

To this Sherlock had to concede that it was a possibility.

As they reached the main road, Sherlock hailed a passing taxi.

“Where to guv?” the taxi driver asked.

Sherlock was about to respond when Molly got in before him, “221B Baker Street, please.”

***

Chapter 9: Moving Forward

***

221B BAKER ST – SHERLOCK’S BEDROOM

A fine sheen of sweat coated the two naked bodies that lay intimately entwined on the bed.

Molly’s hips surged up, her hands grasping Sherlock’s taut buttocks, as Sherlock’s kisses grew desperate, hips now pumped wildly as he thrust in and out in an increasingly frantic rhythm, before he reared up abruptly, his arms taking his full weight. The new angle drove his cock deeper into her welcoming warmth, causing them to moan at the exquisite sensation.

But just as they were about to reach completion, Sherlock paused to savour the incredible feeling of Molly’s body as it clamped possessively around his rigidly hard penis, he marvelled at how her lips felt on his, the softness of her skin, her intoxicatingly musky scent as he’d plied her sensitive clit with his tongue...

A well-aimed slap to his buttocks abruptly snapped him from his musings.

“Catalogue and update your Mind Palace later,” Molly panted impatiently, though Sherlock noted the hint of an endearingly impish grin as she wrapped her legs around his waist, before pulling his head down so she could plant a sinfully passionate kiss upon his willing lips.

Back and forth, then side to side, Sherlock’s hips kept up their determined and relentless rhythm. He was a man possessed.

“Yes, yes right there,” Molly cried encouragingly, and then “Oh my God, Sherlock!”

Molly came, her head thrown back as she screamed in ecstasy. Moments later Sherlock found his own release, coming with a guttural growl. The tension in his body immediately giving way to euphoric lethargy, before collapsing on top of an equally boneless Molly, his body totally spent.

They lay where they were, catching their breath. Then Sherlock rolled off Molly, pulling her close, wrapping his arms securely around her as she happily snuggled into him.

Several minutes later with still not a word spoken Molly grew concerned. Sitting up, she turned to Sherlock, and what she saw had her pulling him into her arms, his head coming to rest in the crook of her shoulder.

“Bit overwhelming isn’t it,” she said softly, as tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

Sherlock nodded, initially unable to find the words to accurately describe what he was feeling. And then “Understatement,” he mumbled. The embarrassment he felt at his uncharacteristic show on emotion all too clear.

Molly knew Sherlock had not been a virgin, yet their coupling had clearly had a profound effect on him. Brushing his sweat slicked curls out of his eyes, she queried gently. “And this was different.”

Sherlock sat up, and pulled Molly onto his lap. He threaded his fingers through her hair before taking her face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks, resting his forehead against hers as he looked her directly in the eyes. “So different,” he murmured, a luminous glow appearing in his storm-tossed eyes. “This was the first time my heart was fully involved. This wasn’t about getting laid. This was all about love, making love, and loving the woman who will always matter the most to me. “

Molly could feel tears beginning to well up in her own eyes.

“Not good?” Sherlock asked, becoming more than a little worried.

Molly laughed, whipping her tears away. “On the contrary,” she assured him. “It’s the very best actually.”

Sherlock visibly relaxed.

“So, what do you suggest we do now?” his innocent expression totally at odds with the way he was dragging Molly back under the covers.

Molly’s laughter was filled with pure joy as she playfully pushed Sherlock onto his back and straddled him. “I’m sure we can come up with something,” she responded playfully.

Sherlock wholeheartedly agreed.

***

#Sherlolly #How the homeless network came into being #Sherlock back using drugs #Someone is killing the homeless #John learning what Sherlock was like before he met him #A work in progress...#Now Complete

7 notes · View notes