#like yeah the kindest man in the world first decided to end your whole career and then saved your life again. like what do you even do

[sleepy-salami]

this is such a small moment, and I totally missed it the last time I read this chapter, but

if I had a nickel for every time Wen Ning went out of his way to save Jiang Cheng and got kicked in response, I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's kinda funny that it happened twice

[imagineyourself]

The Interview- Noah Centineo

A/N I know it’s been forever since I’ve posted. Sorry Junior year kicked my ASS. But it’s all good now I’ve been writing this imagine for a while and finally finished it. I hope y’all like it. Let me know if you want a part 2. 

Word count: 1515

Summary: Noah decides to admit he isn’t single anymore and shit hits the fan a bit

Warnings: Swearing (obvi) but other than that nothing bad lots of cute fluff 

*Noah’s POV* 

I sat down, waiting for the interview to begin. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I resisted the urge to check. I know it’s Y/N texting me good luck before the interview. She has no idea what I’m about to do. I hope she doesn’t get mad, I just love her so much and hiding her doesn’t feel right. 

“Noah! My man, how are you?” Jimmy Fallon asks and pulls me in for a bro-hug. 

“I’m good, been busy!” 

“I can imagine I mean you have had like what 3 movies come out this year that you star in???”

“Yeah I know. It’s crazy.”

“You went from small child actor to big time teen heart-throb in nothing flat. So how has that changed your home life?”

“I have to work really hard on checking in with my mom. She is so proud of me, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying about me forgetting to eat and stuff. Otherwise, nothing has changed I still talk to them a ton! My family and hometown friends keep me and my ego in check which is so important for someone young like me. Couldn’t be more grateful for them.”

“Wow it’s so great that you recognize their importance! But, and you know I have to ask for all of the teenage girls out there, is the infamous Noah Centineo single?” 

This question comes up all of the time. I hated lying about Y/N and saying I was single, and now is my chance to stop the secrets. I want to show her off and be able to take her out for proper dates.

“No, actually I am not.”

*Y/N’s POV*

I was watching Noah’s interview casually eating popcorn on our couch when the relationship question was asked. I was used to him having to publicly deny our relationship, I liked my privacy and it made him more attractive and therefore more successful.  

But then he shocked me by saying he wasn’t single. He stated he was taken. Off the market. Unavailable. Mine. 

“WHAT THE FUCK????” I jumped off of my couch screaming. He didn’t tell me he was doing this. I am not ready to handle this. I figured he would consult ME on this before telling the world, but apparently not. I couldn’t even listen to the rest of the interview as my panic spiralled.

My phone started going off instantly, from tweets and instagram follow requests. I called Y/B/F/N crying.

“Hey babe, woah wait what’s up?” She said noticing my tears.

“Noah”

“What happened? Did y’all break up? I will fucking kill him.”

“No, no. An interview.” I mustered all the air I could to try and explain what happened.

“I am on my way over. I’ll be there in 10.”

*Noah’s POV*

“Really?? So who’s the lucky lady?”

“Yes really. Her name is Y/N and she is smart, funny, and beautiful. I love her so much.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“A year and 2 months.” I smile thinking about how it has been such a long time.

“Wow, that’s a long time. How has she reacted to the spike in your career?”

“She has been nothing but supportive! Since we kept our relationship private, I couldn’t bring her to set, but we host a cast dinner at our apartment. She adores Lana, they are like best friends.” 

“So you guys live together?”

“Haha yup, we moved in together about 6 months ago.” I can’t wipe the smile off of my face. I finally get to talk about Y/N and I love talking about her because I am so proud of her!

“So what does she do? How did you meet?”

“She’s a lawyer for several casting agencies in hollywood, and she ended up drafting my contract for SPF-18.”

“Wow, that’s great! I am so happy for you! Now back to promoting your new movie!” Jimmy puts us on track despite getting an exclusive scoop.

*Y/N’s POV*

I opened the door to let Y/B/F/N in despite giving her a key. I finally gained enough composure to explain what happened.

“So he finally told the world he was taken?”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t tell you he was going to say anything?” 

“Not a word.”

“Okay, um, what the fuck. Isn’t that supposed to be a joint decision because your privacy is at stake here.”

“Yeah, I mean I’m both relieved and upset. I’m glad I don’t have to hide anymore, but also teenage girls can be so rude and I don’t know if I’m ready to face their scrutiny. In their minds, I took their man.”

“Okay, ms. lawyer, take it down a notch. Who knows they might be supportive?” She hugged me tight and tried her best to make me look at the bright side.

“You could be right.” 

“Damn right, now let’s get you changed and in bed. I’m staying the night to make sure you’re okay.” She helped me up off of the couch and led me to Noah and I’s room to change into new pjs. 

Before I fell asleep I texted Noah, telling him I saw the interview and we needed to talk about it.

Later that night, I woke up to a slight rumble happening in the living room. I got up when I recognized Noah and Y/B/F/N’s voices. They were whisper-shouting at each other clearly in some heated argument. 

“Sorry, Noah, but you can’t just tell the whole goddamn world you have a girlfriend without telling her first. She called me freaking the hell out because teenage girls are ruthless, and honestly I don’t think she can handle it. I don’t think I can handle it, because you aren’t always here and when you aren’t here she calls me. I hate seeing her upset and I know you do too, but you really should have talked to her about it first. It’s her privacy and her life that is at risk.”

“I know. I know I should have talked to her first, but I just couldn’t take one more interview of lying to the world. I love her more than anything and I want to show her to the world.”

“Yeah I get that, but did you ever consider if she was ready for that? What if she doesn’t want that?” 

There was a lull in the conversation as Noah took the time to think about what I wanted. 

“I love both of you, like a lot,” I say as I step out from behind the bedroom door. “But I think it’s better to talk about what I want with me there to actually tell you what I want.”

“I’m so sorry babe. I know I should have talked to you before I did it.” Noah came closer to me giving me a hug. 

“I’m not mad, I’m just scared witless. I love the romantic gesture, I really do, but not everything is going to be better. Not for me, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“She means that people will start to send her hate, threats, stalking her, and it could possibly affect her job.” Y/B/F/N piped up.

“My phone has been blowing up non-stop since you said my name and my job on national tv. It got to the point where I turned my notifications off. The comments that I saw were not the kindest. I don’t want to get in between you and your fans, and they seem really mad that we’re together.” I look at Noah with tears in my eyes, and he looks at me with a similarly somber expression. 

“You know that hurting you or putting you in harms way was never, and will never be, my intention, right? I’ll post about us officially and say that any hate comments or threats or anything of the kind will receive an automatic block. I will protect you from harm if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I just don’t want things to change between us, you know?”

“Y/N, sweetie, nothing will change. He’ll still come home after filming and annoy the crap out of you, and I’ll still be a 10 minute drive away to help you through everything. We are your support system forever and always.” Y/B/F/N said giving you a hug. 

“She’s right. And I promise that I won’t do anything that reckless without talking to you first.” Noah says joining the hug. 

“Can I get that in writing?” We all break apart from laughter. 

“Okay, Ms. Lawyer, whatever you want.” 

“I can draft the statement in the morning, let’s get some sleep.” Noah and I went to our room and Y/B/F/N went back to hers. 

“I love you so much.” Noah said as we crawled into bed. 

“I love you too, but please talk to me next time.” I whisper as I cuddle into his chest. 

“Of course, baby girl.” He kissed the top of my head and we fell asleep. 

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part thirty-eight

It’s Best Man Speech time! Also, I’m a liar. This chapter is not the last. The next one is. Oopsies! ;)

“Pray silence for the best man.”

           You squeeze Sherlock’s hand as he stands to his feet, buttoning his jacket and smoothing it down. He really is nervous.

           But to be fair, you’re a little nervous, too. He wouldn’t let you hear the speech—He wouldn’t let anyone hear it, actually. This is brand new to everyone. And while that should be exciting, since it’s Sherlock, it’s a little nerve-wracking.

           John is beaming, though, grinning from ear to ear – possibly a little buzzed. But he does really love Sherlock, and you know that, even when he doesn’t want to admit it. You know those two have a bond like no other. The Baker Street boys, as Mary calls them.

           “Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends. And, um…others.”

           Sherlock’s stuttering continues, prompting you reach up and thread your fingers through his. He glances down, smiling a little.

           “Telegrams,” you hear your brother mutter, and then Sherlock is back.

           “Right, um…” Sherlock picks up the cards. “First things first, telegrams. Well, they’re not actually telegrams, we just call them telegrams, I don’t know why. Wedding tradition. Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

           “Sherlock,” you whisper warningly.

           He settles again, nodding. “To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck, and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

           Ah, Mike. You chuckle.

           “To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big…big squishy cuddles from Stella and Ted.” Sherlock sighs. “Mary, lots of love—Oh.”

           John looks up at him. “Yeah?”

           “…poppet.”

           Mary snickers, leaning forward to catch you stifling your own laughter.

           “Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam. Wish your family could’ve seen this.”

           You lean forward at that, giving Mary a look of sympathy as John takes her hand in his, comfortingly.

           Sherlock carries on, not missing a beat. “Special day…Very special day…Love…Love…Love…Love…Love. Bit of a theme, you get the general gist. People are basically fond.”

           Here we go, you think, wanting to smack Sherlock in the arm, but you decide against it.

           “John Watson. My friend, John Watson. John. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first, I didn’t realize he was asking me. When finally, I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised. I explained to him that I had never expected this request, and that I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very closed to being moved by it. It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud.”

           The room erupts with laughter, especially coming from John. You laughed loudly, too, because that definitely wasn’t the story you remembered John telling you.

           Sherlock begins rummaging in his coat for some cards. “So…done that. Done that. Done that bit. Done that bit.”

           He takes a deep breath. And continues.

           “I’m afraid John that I can’t congratulate you.”

           Your eyebrows furrow. Odd start. Maybe you should’ve forced him to practice the speech in front of you.

           “All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honor the deathwatch beetle that is the doom of our society and in time, one feels certain, our entire species.”

           The room stills. You stare down at your hands, a little bit worried for the rest of this, and still regretting the fact that you never took a peek at his speech before today.

           “But anyway, let’s talk about John.”

           “Please,” you hear John clear his throat, shifting around in his seat.

           “If I burden myself with a little helpmate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice, it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes in truth from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides.”

           You tilt your head. That was an insult, wasn’t it?

           “It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

           Is he…serious? He absolutely has to be kidding.

           “And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation. Or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity to the family idiot.”

           The room rustles again, and you clasp your hands together, willing yourself to keep listening.

           “The point I’m trying to make it that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous,” Sherlock pauses to look down at you, nudging your arm so you’ll look at him. “I am unaware of the beautiful.” He smiles only softly, then turning to Mary and John. “And uncomprehending in the face of the happy.”

           You smile sadly.

           “So, if I didn’t understand that I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. And certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.

           “John, I am a ridiculous man. Redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship and the love from the woman sat to my left.”

           Your breath hitches. You weren’t expecting him to mention you at all.

           “But as I am, apparently, your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion.” Sherlock pauses, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss. So sorry again about that last one.”

           You chuckle softly. He’ll forever be apologizing for the time he was ‘dead.’

           “So know this. Today, you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man and woman you have no doubt saved. In short, the three people who love you move in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary and Y/N as well when I say we will never let you down and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

           You reach up and wipe a stray tear away from your cheek, chuckling a little when Sherlock doesn’t seem to notice he’s gotten the rest of the reception hall crying as well.

           “Ah, yes. Now on to some funny stories about John…” Sherlock frowns. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John? Y/N?”

           “Love…” You shake your head, smiling despite your own watery eyes.

           “Did I do it wrong?”

           “No, you didn’t,” John mutters, pushing his chair back. “Come here.”

           The room applauds while the two of them hug, Sherlock still not understanding anything at all as he tries to continue over the noise. John pats his shoulder and says something to make him stop, but you don’t hear.

           After John is settled back in his chair, Sherlock continues.

           “So, onto some funny stories about John. If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would…be better.” Everyone laughs. “On we go. So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog. The record of our time together. Of course, he does tend to romanticize things a big, but then, you know, he’s a romantic.

           “We’ve tackled some strange cases. The Hollow Client. The Poisoned Giant. We’ve had some frustrating cases. Touching cases,” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “And of course, I have to mention, The Elephant in the Room. But we want something very particular for this special day. The Bloody Guardsman.”

           Ah, you remember. The unsolved one. From wedding planning weeks ago.

           “Private Steven Bainbridge had written to us with a concern about someone possibly stalking him. A bloke, no less. Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach but there was no weapon. Where did it go?

           “Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: A murderer who can walk through walls. A weapon that can vanish. But in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

           Good lord. You definitely should’ve looked at his speech.

           “Come on, come on. There is actually an element of Q&A to all of this.” Sherlock clears his throat. “Scotland Yard, have you got a theory?”

           “Don’t pick on Greg,” you mutter.

           “Yeah, you. You’re a detective, broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

           Lestrade crosses his arms over his chest, deciding to entertain Sherlock. “Er, um…If the uh, if the blade was propelled through the um…grating in the air vent… Maybe a ballista or a catapult, uh, somebody tiny could crawl in there. So yeah, we’re looking for a dwarf.”

           “Brilliant.”

           “Really?”

           “No.”

           You shake your head.

           “Hello, who was that? Tom.”

           Sure enough, Tom stands from his chair, Molly sending a frightened look your way. This is going to end badly, it always does when Sherlock gets in one of these moods.

           “Got a theory?”

           “He attempted suicide with a blade made of compacted blood and bone. Broke after piercing his abdomen, like a meat…dagger.”

           “A meat dagger?”

           “Yes.”

           “No.”

           Tom sits back down, and Sherlock continues, clearly annoyed. “There was one feature and only one feature of interest in the whole of this baffling case and quite frankly, it was the usual. John Watson. Who while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.

           “There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know and on top of that he actually knows how to do that. Except wedding planning and serviettes, he’s rubbish at that.”

           Everyone chuckles at the slight joke.

           “The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder or attempted murder I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter. The most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware.

           “However, I’m not just here to praise John, I’m also here to embarrass him so let’s move onto some—”

           “No, wait. So how was it done?” Greg interrupts.

           “How was what done?”

           “The stabbing.”

           “He never solved it,” you chime.

           “Yes,” Sherlock nods. “I never solved that one. It can happen sometimes. It’s very…very disappointing. Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

           Oh, dear Lord.

           This night was the night you, Mary, and Molly got together and had dinner before having essentially a big sleepover at John and Mary’s. Because John was out with Sherlock all night, apparently doing something along the lines of having a beer at every place they’ve solved a murder.

           It’s okay, you found the idea weird, too. But Molly said she calculated everything correctly, so they should be fine. Even if it was odd that Sherlock asked her to calculate anything in the first place.

           But anyway, while the three of you were drinking wine and sharing idiot stories of your significant others, John and Sherlock were getting absolutely pissed.

           “‘Course, there’s hours of material here, but I’ve cut it down to the really good bits.”

           Apparently, they were only out for two hours before returning to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson said she nearly had a heart attack when she walked out with her trash to find them snoozing on the stairs, drunkenly mumbling to each other.

           And then they had a client. Of all things, they had a client that night.

           “The Mayfly Man.”

           They also got arrested, which Lestrade wasted no time calling you about and starting off with saying, “You’re not gonna believe this shit.” You thought it was going to be much worse than what it was, but at least Lestrade was able to get them bailed out with no problem. And thankfully, it never turned up in the papers.

           You still remember after that when Sherlock continued investigating. You were sat in his chair when he had probably six or seven laptops open, talking to all of these women who had encountered the Mayfly Man. John was here as well, helping with the case on his day off.

           Apparently, Sherlock had asked a question to the women and immediately every single one of them signed off. You had warned him to let you help, but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want to come off as too knowing.

           “Why? Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?” Sherlock slams the laptop closed, straightening up and buttoning his blazer.

           John snorts. “You’re missing the obvious, mate.”

           “Am I?”

           “You are,” you nod. “He’s a man.”

           Sherlock still doesn’t get it. “So? I’m a man.”

           “You’re a different breed,” you chuckle.

           “But why would he change his identity?” Sherlock asks the rhetorical question to the wedding guests, not noticing their lack of interest. “He was married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity and instead of endless nights in watching telly or going to barbeques with the awful, dreadful, boring people he couldn’t stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field. He was—” Sherlock stops, suddenly surveying the room and seeing their tired faces. He turns to you and you shake your head, motioning for him to stop the story.

           He nods. “On second thoughts, maybe I probably should’ve told you about The Elephant in the Room.

           “However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that’s what made me special. Quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: Should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it will take John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that, I should know. He’s saved mine so many times and in so many ways.

           “This blog,” Sherlock gestures with his phone, “is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures. Of murder, mystery, and mayhem. But from now on, there’s a new story. A bigger adventure.”

           You watch with a smile as Sherlock glances to the happy couple, and then you watch in surprise as he looks to you.

           “Ladies and gentlemen pray charge your glasses and be upstanding.” You stand with your glass in hand. “Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is—”

           Sherlock freezes.

           His glass falls from his hands, but no matter about that. You know that look in his eyes. He’s gone. Albeit for a split second, but he’s gone.

           It’s almost like he’s gone to his mind palace.

           The glass shatters as it hits the floor, the noise startling Sherlock back into the real world. He blinks, looking down at the mess he made and tries to brush past it.

           “Oh, sorry, I—” He shakes his head, clearing his throat.

           “Another glass, sir?”

           “Thank you, yes. Thank you. Now, where were we?”

           “Sherlock…” You whisper.

           He looks to you briefly before continuing on. “Ah, yes, raising glasses and standing up. Very good, thank you… And down again.”

           You sit down quickly, casting a worried glance in John and Mary’s direction. The rest of the guests follow, confusion coating their faces.

           “Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech. Get off early, leave them laughing. Wise advice I’ll certainly try to bear in mind, but for now…”

           “Sherlock!” You hiss as he jumps over the table.

           “Part two!” He walks down the middle. “Part two is more action based, I’m gonna walk around, shake things up a bit.

           “Who’d go to a wedding? That’s the question? Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding…? Well, everyone!” Sherlock turns around, clapping his hands. “Weddings are great. Love a wedding.”

           Mary leans forward to look at you. “What’s he doing?”

           “Something’s wrong,” you whisper back. “I don’t know what.”

           “And John’s great, too,” Sherlock points back to the front. “I haven’t said that enough, barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his jumpers. And he can cook, does a thing – A thing with peas, once. Might not be peas, might not be him, but he’s got a great singing voice – Or somebody does…

           “Too many, too many, too many, too many!” Sherlock screams. He stops himself, turning back around. “Sorry, too many jokes about John. Now, uh… Where was I? Ah, yes. Speech! Speech. Let’s talk about…murder.”

           “Christ, Sherlock,” you smack your forehead.

           “Sorry, did I say murder? I meant to say marriage. But, you know, they’re…quite similar procedures when you think about it, the participants tend to know each other and it’s over when one of them’s dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though.”

           You watch as Sherlock pulls out his phone and begins texting behind his back – something you hate when he does, but now it’s only worrying you further.

           “Jeff, the gents.” Sherlock looks at Lestrade.

           “It’s Greg!”

           “The loos, please.”

           “Why?”

           “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s your turn?” Sherlock nods toward the door as Lestrade’s phone beeps. So, Sherlock was texting him. You wish he’d text you to let you know what the hell is going on right now.

           Lestrade looks at his phone and his eyes widen. “Yeah, actually, now that you mention it.” And he disappears through the doors.

           “Sherlock,” John calls out. “Any chance of an end date to this speech? We’ve gotta cut the cake.”

           “Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can’t stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once – Vatican Cameos.”

           Your eyes widen. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

           “What did he just say?”

           You scoot over to Sherlock’s seat next to John’ careful of the broken glass. “Vatican Cameos,” you murmur. “It means someone’s going to die.”

           “Not you, not you, you,” Sherlock points to John. “It’s always you. John Watson, you keep me right.”

           John stands to meet Sherlock. “What do I do?”

           “You’ve already done it,” Sherlock whispers, glancing to you. “Don’t solve the murder. Save the life.

           “Sorry,” Sherlock inhales sharply, turning back around. “Off-piste a bit, back now, phew! Let’s play a game. Let’s play murder. Imagine someone’s going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?”

           “I think you’re a popular choice at the moment, dear,” you hear Mrs. Hudson say, bringing a small smile to your face.

           “If someone could move Mrs. Hudson’s glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely. More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding?”

           Your eyes widen. They lock with Sherlock’s. There’s a brief moment where you wonder if it’s you. After all, this morning was the only time you traveled without Sherlock in a long time. But it doesn’t make sense, you don’t fit. He’s here with you now, and no one was close to you when he wasn’t.

           Sherlock shakes his head slightly. You’re safe.

           “Most people you can kill just any old place,” he continues. “As a mental exercise, I’ve often planned the murder of friends and colleagues. Now, John, I’d poison. Sloppy eater, dead easy. Y/N is a different story. To poison her would ultimately insure my own death sentence. Lestrade’s so easy to kill, it’s a miracle no one’s succumbed to the temptation. I’ve got a pair of keys to my brother’s house, I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him…if the whim arose.

           “So, once again, who could you only kill here?”

           Sherlock’s eyes lock with yours again and you mouth, “Isolated.”

           “Clearly, it’s a rare opportunity, so it’s someone who doesn’t get out much. Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity. And since killing someone in public difficult, killing them in private isn’t an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then. Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security. Possibly someone under threat.”

           When Sherlock looks to Major James Sholto, you sigh, letting your eyes fall closed. You should’ve known from the minute your brain told you it had to be someone who is truly isolated. Major Sholto is the only one true fit to that statement.

           “Or, a recluse,” Sherlock speaks, now obviously filling the time as he writes something on a card. “Small, house hold staff. High turnover for additional security. Probably have all signed confidentiality agreements.

           “There is another question that remains, however, a rather big one. How would you do it? How do you kill someone in public? There has to be a way. This has been planned.”

           Your eyes widen. “The Bloody Guardsman,” you blurt. “The killer that can walk through walls. The weapon that vanishes.”

           Sherlock stares off when he hears you, Major Sholto standing and leaving in the meantime. Sherlock nods to you. “Not just planned, planned and rehearsed.”

           He slides back up to the front, grabbing a random glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude. To the bride and groom!”

           Everyone stands for the toast, but Sherlock whirls around, leaning down to the table. “Major Sholto’s going to be murdered. I don’t know how or by whom but it’s going to happen.” Sherlock abruptly kisses you on the forehead before turning and moving his way through the crowd. “Excuse me, coming through, consulting.”

           John gives Mary a kiss before standing, looking to the both of you and saying, “Stay here.”

           As soon as he gets around the table, though, you and Mary look at each other and nod. You stand, linking arms and pushing your way through the crowd, careful not to trip on your dresses as you search for where Sherlock and John went.

           You round the corner just as your brother is laying into Sherlock for not remembering Major Sholto’s room number.

           You roll your eyes and say, “207,” as you and Mary push between them.

           The four of you bound up the stairs and to the left, Major Sholto’s door right at the end of the hall. Sherlock immediately begins banging on the door, trying the handle.

           “Major Sholto!” Sherlock yells, hitting the door with an open hand.

           The Major speaks from behind the door. “If someone’s about to make an attempt on my life, it won’t be the first time. I’m ready.”

           “Major,” John steps forward. “Let us in. Or I’ll kick this bloody door down.”

           “I really wouldn’t,” he calls out. “I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.”

           “You’re not safe in there. Whoever’s after you, we know that a locked room doesn’t stop him.”

           “Yes, I know. The invisible man with the invisible knife.”

           “I don’t know how he does it, so I can’t stop him and that means he’ll do it again.”

           “Solve it, then.”

           “I’m sorry?”

           “You’re the famous Mr. Holmes. Solve the case, on you go. Tell me how he did it, and I’ll open the door.”

           Sherlock shakes his head, stepping away.

           “Please, this is no time for games. Just let us in, you’re in danger!” John’s voice cracks on a matter of urgency, and the knot is your stomach is twisting dangerously tight.

           “So are you, so long as you’re here,” the Major counters. “Please, leave me. Despite my reputation, I really do not approve of collateral damage.”

           “Solve it,” Mary blurts.

           “Sorry?”

           “Solve it and he’ll open the door, like he said.”

           “I couldn’t solve it before, how can I solve it now?”

           “Because it matters now!” Mary cries.

           “What are you talking about? What’s she talking about? Get your wife under control.”

           “She’s right,” John replies, deadly serious.

           “Oh, you’ve changed!”

           You smack Sherlock’s arm harshly, finally succumbing to the urge you’ve had all evening. “Shut up!” Sherlock looks back at you, dejected and holding his shoulder where you hit it. “She’s right. You are not a puzzle solver, you idiot, you never were. You’re a goddamned drama queen. Now, there is a man in there about to die, the game is fucking on, solve it.”

           Sherlock’s eyes widen, though you can’t tell if it’s in shock or realization, but then he turns to the door, and you hear he’s solved it. “Major Sholto, no one’s coming to kill you. I’m afraid you’ve already been killed several hours ago.”

           “What did you say?”

           “Don’t take off your belt.”

           “The belt,” you mutter. “Of course.”

           “Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him. But it was through his belt – tight belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn’t even feel it.”

           “The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tight. And when you took it off…” John trails away.

           “Exactly. Delayed action stabbing.”

           “Neat,” you mutter, then realizing what you’ve said, you grimace. “Sorry.”

           “You’re supposed to open the door, Major, he solved the case.”

           Silence.

           “Whatever you’re doing in there James, stop it, right now, I will kick this door down!” John yells.

           “You and I are very similar Mr. Holmes,” the Major continues. “There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there?”

           “There is.”

           “And one should embrace it when it comes. Like a soldier.”

           “Of course, but not at John’s wedding!” Sherlock screams. “We wouldn’t do that, would we, you and me? We would never do that to John Watson.”

           Sherlock steps away from the door, and right as John is getting ready to ram his foot through the door, it opens.

           John and Mary disappear into the room, leaving you and Sherlock in the hallway. He suddenly picks you up by your waist and spins you around, setting you down to press a firm kiss to your lips.

           “You’re a drama queen, too,” he pouts.

           “Shut up,” you shake your head, pulling him back into you for another kiss.

[mini-moongi]

Music in Feeling

Jungkook x reader

Genre: Angsty fluff. 

I have the urge to write but Idk what to write about the stRUGGLE IS REAL. FucK.

Summary: Jungkook left his closest friend for his career, ending on a bad note. Years later, He sees you singing for the first time ( at least the last time was forever ago) on stage, being a new figure in the kpop industry.

“ You know how much this means to me.” You shook your head at his words,” Yeah, but you’ve forgotten what you mean to me. Jungkookie, can’t you at least text my cell once in awhile? You know, tell me you’re alive?” A sigh escaped your lips, you knew where this was heading.

“ I can’t miss this chance for the world! Y/n, I’m sorry alright? Please… I’ll try my best to see you often, okay? We’ve been buddies since forever…” Jungkook throws one of his famous doe eyed looks you can’t refuse. You didn’t want to let go of him yet, but you didn’t know how much fame could affect him if he pursues.

“ …Fine. You know I would always support you, right? I just… I just don’t want the fame to get to your head.” You finally gave in, wanting nothing more than a hug or something.

This was it. A nice, chill, casual hang out after today’s practice. That’s all you wanted…

For at least 2 months, you’ve been nothing except the greatest friend alive. You were always nice and caring towards him, even if he was stressed and only talked about his problems. Although you’d never tell him, you didn’t want to let go. You loved his laughter, the way his eyes lit up at the mention of BIG BANG or something, and the genuine smile that never failed to make you happy. You wanted him to be happy, so you let him into the company. You let him follow his dreams, his inspiration was the only thing you could hold onto as his life moved forward.

You only asked for this one session of time, you even called to make sure his schedule was free, but you still managed to get stood up. You wanted to hang out in your old studio, the place you two shared music in. You thought it would be a nice road down memory lane, but you guessed not. Jungkook and you both wanted to do something in the music industry, but lately, Jungkook hasn’t made any time for you. You waited another minute before getting up to pack everything you set up.

Lazy shuffles enter the room and Jungkook looks tired as hell. You constantly ask him about getting enough sleep, but he shrugs it off and tells you he’s fine. Like hell he’s fine.

“ You’re late… What happened?”

“ You think I don’t know I was late? I was practicing...”

“ Well, I guess you’re here. Wanna make some cool beats?” You try to lighten the mood by turning on your studio key set.

“ No, I have to go soon, another round of practice and then I’m gonna be out like a light.” He huffed out as he sat next to you

“ I… made some music while I was waiting. Do you want to listen?”

“ Nah, gotta leave in like 10 minutes.”

“ But you have the whole day off? I scheduled this time for us...” You didn’t know what to feel or act. You felt anger rising in you, but you tried to be calm. All of your senses were going numb, hot tears threatening to leave your glistening eyes.

“ I couldn’t. The new album will be put up soon and we have to work twice as hard to be on time.” 

“ Why did you show up at all if you couldn’t be on time for this? I waited 3 hours, Jungkook, three hours! The new album won’t be released until the end of the year! All I wanted, was this one little chance to hang out and dance. I support your dream of singing, but can’t you support mine?” Your mind was spinning in every direction there was. He knew how long you waited, how long you sat there for him, but he refused to be guilty. Instead, his frustration built inside of him.

“ You wouldn’t make it in the business anyway, You’re always so dull.” His eyes were glazed over and didn’t shine, so lifeless as he blankly stared at you. His gaze was cold and hard, as if it wasn’t him in that moment and it was someone in his place.

 It dawned on you how much the company had changed the inside of your precious Kookie. The loving boy you met years ago was somehow replaced with an angry asshole of a friend.

“ I.. can’t hang out anymore. I have to go, have fun at practice.” You couldn’t help the waterfalls coming out of your eyes as you walked away from the studio. You had to get as far as possible from that damned place.

His eyes lit up at the performance of BIGBANG. His eyes were fixated on the screen during half time, and he couldn’t help the fanboy inside of him. He was giddy and excited to see their performance. Their stage time ended and the Announcer spoke up saying,” I’d like to welcome some very special people. An upcoming sensation with so much passion and fire in them. Please introduce yourselves!”

“ Annyeonghaseyo, We are [Group Name]!”

Each member introduced themselves and Jungkook’s face grew brighter with each girl. His smile only faltered at the confusion of a familiar face.

“ A-Annyeonghaseyo, I’m [Group Name]’s Maknae, Y/n…” Your group members told everyone about how you were the best talent out of them all, even if you were shy. They completely cherished you, and you could only smile at your Unnies.

“ Y/n is one of the greatest talents I know! She might seem shy, but her voice is strong and makes you feel the emotions and meanings of the song. We’re really proud of how far we’ve come and..” The Unnie went on about the album (You created it)

Jungkook, on the other hand, was shockingly mortified. Was it really you?? One of his Hyungs came by and although they didn’t ask, they knew. Jungkook’s mind replayed what his actions did during your last argument.

He’s always regretted his words that night, and wasn’t able to practice for weeks. He loved your voice, it was so rare for you to sing him something when he drifted off to sleep on some random nights.

Those nights when he came over crying his eyes out, grateful that you were always there with welcoming arms. Those nights when you would allow skinship and cuddles all in the attempt to comfort him.

 After you left, he didn't know what to do. He was empty of anyone's love and affection on the nights when he needed it. He tried dating, but you were his wing woman, picking up the chicks for him. The thought of how much consideration you put into him only made him more guilty. No one took your place throughout the years, but he slowly confided in his hyungs over his behavior during the argument.

He listened closely to your Unnies and soaked up all the information. “ We are thankful to have someone like her, she’s been through a lot in the past but she’s still the kindest person I’ve met. She played a big role in our album creation and we couldn’t be more proud. Our album, Little Things in Life, has brought many fans together because of y/n’s composing skills.”

Little Things in Life had songs focusing on the small details in scenarios. It made people think about the bigger situation that takes place during the songs. It focused on the things that usually go unnoticed like, the way their lips move to fit their voiced words, or Eyes that gloss over and shine with water. It was simply fascinating to say the least.

“ Jackie Unnie, you played a big part too! I-It’s weird to have all the credit when you’ve done so many arrangements.” Your group loved each other as much as Bangtan did, and Jungkook realized that.

When the performance started, he was on the edge of his seat, the urge to stand up was tempting. The songs went by smoothly, but you haven’t sung anything by your self yet and the audience waited for their hit song to come out. Finally, the lights dimmed down a little and spotlights were on each member. The music was softer than the previous ones, making fans scream at recognition. They said this was the song you created, and Jungkook could see why it had so much praise. It was simply beautiful beyond words.

Your voice hit him with so much passion and feeling in your words, his breath hitched at the sound. Your voice matured for the best, soft yet bold in its own way. His blood almost ran cold at your words, but your voice kept warming his heart. You were singing with so much feeling because you were  reminiscing  your last moments with him.

 It made his heart ache of guilt to hear your voice again, too overwhelmed with sudden memories. As the song played, the rhythm was timed perfectly to match the conflicted feelings that decided to bubble up inside of him. His thoughts clashed with one another as he takes in everything from your point of view. How could I have been so stupid?? He could’ve sworn to have seen at least a glimmer of tears roll down the side of your face when you sang with so much feeling. When you got off the stage to head backstage, the heartbroken man was in tears. He couldn’t contain them even when he tried, and he couldn’t resist the temptation of having your comfort again.

Your group was invited to an important award show, and had agreed to perform. It made perfect sense to perform with all the emotions you had, in the hopes of being nominated of course. That’s what your managers told you anyways. You did perform with everything you had, but for your own reason. You created the song in hopes that your voice will reach out to the world, to move them as much as it had moved you in that moment. 

Now, after your performance that had you almost in tears, you never expected a standing ovation. When you looked into the crowd, you could see most were crying and sobbing as they clapped unconditionally for your band. Pride swelled up as well as gratitude for the supporters as you all bowed and exited the stage. The adrenaline rush was over, so you all had time to relax. 

Each footstep was heavy and exhausted from the dancing efforts, and recieved alot of praise by high ranked bands. When you looked up at some of them, you could recognize a few. You recognized all of them, but certain people stood out to you. The crowd cleared after you all entered the waiting room, skimming around to find open spots as your Unnies lounged around.

“ Y/n-?” A bubbly man (who had tears) came up to you and handed you a water bottle,” Ah! Daebak~~ You’re so pretty! I’ve missed you!”

“ Oh, Hobi-ssi. It’s nice to see you again!” You pat yourself with a dry towel and drank from the gifted water. Before you could sit down, Hoseok was grabbing you by the hand and showing you to the others. They all exchanged polite introductions with you and your nerves started to settle down. 

In the midst of your conversation with Taehyung, You felt a pair of (super nice) arms wrapping around your waist and water droplets staining the crook of your neck. A strange sense of deja vu washed over you and you instinctively held onto the warm arms. It had a tight grip on you, as if they never wanted to let you go again. By now, you’ve sensed who it was from the innocent sniffles, although the firm limbs were surprising. 

“ Yah Kookie, How am I supposed to comfort you if you’re behind me?” You laugh a little as the grip on your fabric was hesitantly released,” I thought you were a grown man now, why are you crying?” You wiped his tears away as he laughed quietly and softly took your hand in his. When you turned around, you could finally feel Jungkook’s warm gaze that was laid upon you. 

When you smiled up at him, more tears started streaming out of his eyes. Words couldn’t begin to describe the emotions that he felt. Happiness, guilt, relief, sadness, joy; they were all bubbling at once. He almost started shaking and crying uncontrollably just by the sheer fact that you were okay. He knew that it would take a lot to fix his mistakes, but he had all the time in the world, right?

--------------------------------

T^T I finally finished this!!! I could almost cry if I had any tears left. I hope you guys enjoyed this super cliché oneshot between the reader (you) and Jungkook. I’m still a noob at Tumblr and writing stories, but it’s fun lol. 

Feel free to request stuff for me to write!