#Work or study (: (i can barely force myself to do things i enjoy and struggle greatly with basic things like food exercise and balance irl)'
I AM IN CONTROL AFFIRMATION TAPE REVIEW
Heyy!!
It's officially been a week since I've used @adambja self-concept affirmation tape, and oh boy, do I have some news!!
I made a list of all the things I was going to manifest beforehand, you know, to tick them all off.
I followed her instructions, and listened to it everyday for 1 hour. I listened whilst I ate, studied, on the way to my courses and whilst I was chilling. I didn't want to stress and strain myself by finding time and forcing myself to listen to them so I instead mixed it into my busy schedule rather than separating it, because why not?
And oh boy, the results were glorious!
Here's the list of what I wanted to manifest, I wanted them to come In at a comfortable need to want type pace rather than instantly like I did before biggest kisses to shadow work for helping me slow tf down and prioritise both my wants and needs in a healthy manner 🫶🏾
RESULTS:
: Soooo I met this cute girl at school, she ticks so many of my boxes!! She's the talker, physically affection, cute nicknames I love it!! Currently just talking and flirting but I'm excited go see where this goes, ticks off my wlw relationship! I wanted something slow and meaningful, she's a little fast but meaningful I think it's the talking stage exciting jitters we'll see how it goes once she takes a breather. But I'm enjoying our time together.
: Dreams have been a lot more vivid! Dream recall sucks ass cause my sleep schedule and daily nutritional intakes are fucked give me a minute to fix those and lucid dreaming will natural for me I swear you guys 😭 I had such a realistic dream today I mixed it up with real life, everything felt so real it was insanely bizarre
: I feel a lot more direct and open to shifting now in comparison to last week, my mindset towards it has gone from "I need to do x then x otherwise it won't work I need to do everything properly or else I'll fail" to "Fuck it what I say goes"
I no longer pay great attention to the 3D but I still have a healthy view point to this reality which is something I always struggled with, detachment lead to dissociation which lead to hard core depression. We're feeling good right now though!
Something I tried to manifest before hand finally came up, simple thing but I wanted to wake up with my eyes closed, remain still and instantly remember shifting. This is so I could shift through my most preferred shifting state which required for me to wake up eyes closed and bam! Shift.
But I always woke up with my eyes open, it was a struggle. Not anymore folks!!
: My YouTube video views are increasing, I had a slow recent video that was barely moving its now getting 1k views per day and I'm a few subscribers away to my next milestone goal 30k which I wasn't close to last week
: I made a money review riggght here! It's for her money affirmation tape however the I am in control tape played a role too! Powerful duo 101% recommend using both <3
: My eyelashes are looking a lot fuller and my eyes are alot more sharper and more outlined, hope that makes sense. You, can actually tell the shape of if it's nice and sharp. Nose is also a little more narrow, I didn't want it to narrow gotta love what my ancestors gave me <3 that's on black beauty
: Hair is in twists I can see my roots getting longer which means there's growth that happend after the twists! There wasn't that much growth before hand, so waist length hair here I come!!
OK, that's all now, ily tysm adambja!! <3
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Tag 20-28 | 18/100 hours | 28/08/23
So basically this week I barely studied German, I only did like 2 hours in the entire week and I felt like a total failure to be honest. After careful analysis I realised I needed to re organize my goals, my plan, my study techniques and my mindset so I can make this work out the best possible. At this moment I’m in a stage where I feel like nothing works to help me get back on track but I need to see this as a period of experimentation to help me push forward. So this is my take on how to deal with failure and slumps in progress. (Inspired by selfcare-journey)
⭐️ Identify what’s not working
Personally, what’s keeping me from doing my tasks is the fact that I’m always feeling tired and I have frequent migraines; I have been sleeping less than 6 hours a day because of university and yet I haven’t done as much progress because I’m so tired, I can’t focus and therefore I worked very slowly which left me feeling lazier, very frustrated and unmotivated.
⭐️ Prioritizing health and self care
I think we have all been consumed at some point by the idea of toxic productivity where the one who works the most and sleeps the least is the best one, but ultimately enjoying learning and having quality study time will only be possible if we’re physically and mentally sane.
I feel hesitant to redefine my work hours because I feel guilty when I think of studying less, I’m scared of not meeting deadlines, but I already know that this toxic cycle isn’t working for me so I have to accept that it’s okay if I can’t study 8 hours straight, if I need more breaks than other people and it’s okay if I work slow, if I don’t grasp things quickly, it’s okay to fall behind..because I’m in the process of rewiring how I study and taking my time is better than not doing anything and giving up.
⭐️ Managing energy levels
Along with my horrid sleeping schedule this energy slump is also the result of me not eating throughout the day and then having a huge unhealthy meals later in the day, and it’s really affecting my energy levels. So I need to start keeping hydrated, doing light exercise, eating healthier and more regular meals along with having better sleep hygiene because honestly I feel half dead. I also need to go to a medical check up to figure out what’s the cause of my migraines.
⭐️ Dealing with procrastination
I think lately I really struggle with a sense of discomfort when I study because lately I associate studying with failure and frustration. So I think breaking my task into smaller bits might make it less overwhelming. When I was in therapy I learnt a lot about how to deal with intrusive thoughts and emotions so I will put some of those techniques into practice. I also want to work on self compassion and embracing the idea that even a little progress is a step closer to my goal, I think celebrating those small wins can create a positive cycle of motivation.
⭐️ Improving focus
For this aspect I will go back to the ultra short Pomodoro method. (10-15 min with 2 min break) Force myself to work for a small period of time and give myself a tiny break. It’s a pretty basic technique but the idea of this is to experiment and see how well it works for me, identify for how long I can work until things start to become difficult. I think the best breaks are those that keep you away from your phone, because 5 minutes of social media is a recipe for disaster. So I will try to do things like grab some water, stretch a bit, breathing exercises, clean my bag, walk around the room a bit, doodling, have a snack, so that I keep active but refreshed. I think being in a productive environment like a library or a cafeteria could also help to keep focused.
⭐️ Enjoying learning
Now that I’m coming across more difficult content I tend to get unmotivated, so I think the best strategy is try seeing it like a game, where I don’t focus on the learning outcome but rather focus on the process of understanding, problem solving and overcoming new challenges, perhaps that will make the journey more rewarding.
Reminding one self of why I started and connecting the connecting the content to my interests and real world applications could be really useful in boosting my curiosity and motivation as well.
⭐️ Active learning
My study sessions have turned into something very passive, just doing exercises and checking flashcards has become very boring. I think I need to re-incorporate more active learning techniques like writing in a journal in my target language and talking to native friends more.
Additionally I think I need to readjust my schedule and re organize myself so I can include these changes, track them and check for feedback, but this post is already long enough so I will make a separate one.
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Galentine’s Day Interruption–Joe Keery
Dating an actor might have a few pros, but there seem to be more cons. Joe and I started dating four years ago. My firm was doing some legal work for Netflix around the time they started filming Stranger Things. We ran into each other and flirted the whole week my firm was there.
The day my firm was finally done helping Netflix, Joe asked me out. We've been together ever since. We started out happy. A year into our relationship, we got an apartment together. Two years and we were still deliriously happy. Every day was better than the last. Every day was like a fairy tale, a dream.
But eventually, I had to wake up. We both did. Three years was when we each had that rude awakening. Work got busier for both of us. His filming schedule got more intense. My cases were piling up. It felt like we rarely saw each other. And when we did, it often ended in fights.
This nightmare went on for a year. The longer we were in this nightmare, the harder it was to wake up.
I slowly pulled my phone away from my ear when another call went to voicemail. Tears slowly slid down my face as I put my phone on the table. I covered my face, struggling to stop the sob from escaping. It escaped anyway. And I let it.
Once I had cried everything out, I grabbed my phone again. I pushed on his contact and lifted my phone to my ear. A sob I didn't know I had left got caught in my throat when the call went to voicemail. I don't know what I was expecting and why I was disappointed. The beep made me jump.
"Hey," I said, my voice getting caught in my throat. "It's me."
I opened and closed my mouth, unable to put my thoughts and feelings into words. I struggled even more with telling Joe what I really wanted to tell him.
"I don't know if I can keep doing this, Joe," I sighed. "This is all. . . It's so. . . When we first started dating, we were ridiculously happy. We didn't care about anything other than each other. . . When did that change? When did we become the couple that barely speaks? And when we do speak, we fight? When did we become the couple that rarely sees each other, Joe?"
I took a shaky breath, gathering the rest of my courage. "I can't do this," I whispered. "I can't. . . This is. . . This isn't what it should be, Joe. We shouldn't be playing phone tag. Especially not two days before Valentine's Day. In the four years we've been dating, we've never missed a Valentine's Day. And then I got a voicemail from you this morning, saying you were stuck and wouldn't be back in time to celebrate. . ."
I pulled the phone away from my ear and forced myself to try and get my emotions under control. The feelings I got when I listened to his voicemail this morning came rushing back. I lifted my phone back to my ear and finished what I had to say.
"I think we need a break, Joe."
* * * * *
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, smoothing out my light pink dress. I hadn't planned on going out, but my friends invited me to a Galentine's dinner the day before Valentine's Day. As much as I wanted to refuse, I didn't. I fixed one of my curls as my phone started to ring.
"Where are you?" My friend Alice yelled into the phone as soon as I answered.
"I'm heading out now," I said. "Be there soon."
When I got to the restaurant, I tried to enjoy myself. I tried to relax but I kept thinking about the voicemail I left for Joe. He hasn't responded to it. No call. No voicemail. No text. Nothing.
I thought going to dinner with my friends would help keep my mind off of Joe but the red hearts and cupids in the restaurant weren't helping. I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. I washed my hands, stalling going back to my friends. I finally forced myself to head back to our table. When I did, I wasn't expecting what I saw.
"Joe?"
He turned around and smiled as he saw me. I slowly walked toward him, glancing at my smiling friends before going back to studying Joe.
"What are you doing here?"
"It's Valentine's Day," he shrugged.
"You didn't call me back," I mumbled. He stepped closer to me, gently grabbing my hands.
"I thought this conversation was better to have in person," he said softly. He glanced over my shoulder at my friends and smiled sweetly. "Do you ladies mind if I steal her away for a moment?"
"Nope," Alice answered a little too quickly.
"Take her for as long as you'd like," Maddy chuckled.
With a simple nod to my friends, Joe started leading me to the outside patio. When we got there, I pulled my hand out of his and wrapped my arms around myself.
"Why are you here, Joe?" I asked. "I thought you had to work."
"After I got your message, I jumped on a plane as soon as I could," Joe explained. He hesitated before slowly taking a step closer to me. "Y/N, can we please talk about the break?"
"Why didn't you call me back?" I asked, slightly cutting him off.
"I should've," he sighed. "I know that. But when I heard your message. . . I panicked, Y/N. I had to see you. I had to talk to you. I know the last couple of months have been. . ."
"The last year," I corrected.
"Right," he said, his voice dropping. He cleared his throat before continuing, "I know the last year has been difficult. And I know I haven't been the best boyfriend. I want to be better. I can be better. I know that I've lost your trust, but you must know that I will do whatever it takes to gain it back. I don't want to lose you, Y/N. I love you, baby. Please tell me you still love me."
"Of course," I said, my voice breaking. "Of course I still love you."
I threw my arms around him and smashed my lips onto his. I felt him smile as he instantly kissed me back. Our lips started moving rougher against each other the longer they were pressed together. Joe broke the kiss with a playful smirk on his face–a smirk that only meant he was thinking about something naughty.
"I have a couple of days off," he whispered. "Let's go home and celebrate Valentine's Day."
"What did you have in mind?" I asked under my breath, making him moan. He leaned down but stopped before our lips could touch. As he spoke, his lips barely touched mine.
"Let's go home and make love," he sighed like he was imagining what he wanted to do to me. "We can make love all night long. Until the clock strikes Valentine's Day."
"That's pretty ambitious," I teased.
"I have a lot of date nights to make up for," he said, pulling me closer. I moaned when I felt him start to rub his pelvis against mine. "And I intend on doing everything we would've done those nights."
* * * * *
Joe and I fell into our orgasms, reaching them in sync. He kissed me one more time before carefully rolling off of me. Without a word, he reached over and grabbed my hand. He pulled on it, bringing me to his chest. I draped my arm across his stomach as I leaned my head over his heart.
"I promise I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you," Joe said gently. “The season is ending soon. It'll be a couple of months before we start filming the next one. And I promise that I will spend every second of every day fixing it."
"It doesn't have to be just you," I whispered. "My work has gotten in the way of our relationship too."
"You're not the one who travels for work," he sighed.
"Still," I shrugged. "You shouldn't take all the blame."
Joe leaned down and kissed the top of my head. I smiled when he tightened his arms around me.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Y/N," he whispered.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Joe."
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To say EJ got an episode wouldn't even cover it...since he had to share that episode with Kourtney's plotline and Gina and Mack's dinner scene. (I would not cut the former, I actually quite enjoyed it, but the latter felt like filler considering how overall pointless Mack was)
It also had the hilariously awkward (and I hope unintentionally so) scene where EJ basically says "oh, by the way, I'm disowned and homeless and barely surviving supporting myself financially at 19 years old...so how's your love life Ricky?"
for sure! EJ very much felt like a plot device for Ricky to figure out how he felt about Gina. I mean Ricky is also going through a lot of shit at that time, so i can somewhat understand him being distracted, but like what happened to the "we're brothers" thing they had going on in the end of season 3? (as forced as it seemed)
Season 3 and 4 is just so much wasted potential for EJ, its like he was turned in a paper cut out of a character at times. What happened to being passionate about working on film and telling people stories from the end of season 2? do we even know what he is studying in college?
Why is no one (Ashlyn??) other than Val apparently supporting him, i'm worried he's going to have a breakdown or something due to working 4 jobs just to go to college. He acts like he's happy to be doing everything for himself now, but he's very clearly struggling.
i swear the writers forgot the caswells were cousins in the last 2 seasons.
I would love to read a season 4 rewrite where ej actually gets proper character development fic pls.
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Hi ! So I know it’s the last day of February and I hope I’m not too late !
Anyways this is a request for league of legends matchup
I’m a 20 years old straight woman, I’m 155 cm (5’1��") tall, I’m a student, I draw usually pretty girls in a stylized cartoonish style, I also sing and used to dance and I want to become an illustrator.
I love art and artistic stuff in general, I play wild rift, shower and go to uni while listening to my Spotify playlist, and I like almost any kind of music as long as the song sounds good to me.
Im an INFP-T 4w5, I’m a highly sensitive person and almost always respond to things in an exaggerated manner.
I always believed that everyone should be themselves and free, I’m very stubborn and basically an anarchist.
I’ve been bullying for 11 years straight for different reasons including theses, and the adults tried to force me to fit in the mold of society.
I used to be very loving and energetic, but as I fell into depression because of theses things I can barely recognize myself, I nearly became everything that I hated as a kid. Back then I could easily talk about myself and my personality, but now there’s not much I can say because I don’t even myself anymore, sorry 😓
I use the law of attraction, subliminals and even studied witchcraft a bit but I had to stop because of my terrible mental health and lack of motivation. It still made me manifest a ton of of things, and when I use them I feel a bit better but memories of my past strike at random times, making me feel terrible again 😭
Sorry if I said too much it’s supposed to be a matchup request not a problem talking or whatever, but that’s all I can say, as I said I can’t say much about my personality since I don’t know it anymore…
[A/N: Hello darling, oh don't worry about that, I'm just glad you felt comfortable enough to share this much with me, you do not have to apologize.]
I pair you with...
PANTHEON (ATREUS)!
Why? Because...
Pantheon or should I say, Atreus is a freedom fighter like you. He doesn't let anything or anyone take control of him, not after the incident with the Aspect of War. He made a vow to stand against all Aspects, Ascended, and demons. You would bond over the fact that you two fight to be your true selves and live however you want in a society that tries to contain you. He likes that you're a rebel like him.
He tells you that your past doesn't and shouldn't define who you are so he looks past the fact that you've been bullying for 11 years straight despite having a strong dislike about it. He encourages you to be a better person by helping you do good things, simple things like helping an old lady cross the street or helping a person carry their groceries.
One thing that he's amazed about you is your perseverance. Atreus knows that you've been through a lot, your will to live after battling with depression and struggling to find yourself again after you've changed is something he praises you for. You're strong and he makes sure to tell you that.
And he enjoys taking care of you, it's just something he prides on doing. He keeps your mental and physical health in check, reminding you that you don't have to go through difficult things alone ever again now that you have him by your side.
Atreus is a motivator for sure. He studies everything he can about your old interests and infodumps on you to motivate you. He's glad that it eventually pays off as he sees you enjoying your old hobbies. You said you like witchcraft? Guess what? Magic is prominent in the entirety of runeterra, you can ask anybody-even Atreus to teach you a thing or two about magic. He finds the sight of you getting lost in the world of creative arts to be beautiful, he loves to see the determination on your face whenever you work on something. Atreus loves and treasures every piece or drawing you make, showering with praises and of course, affection. He would give his all and support your dream of becoming an illustrator.
💝~Happy Valentines Day!~💝
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My constant thought these days is "life is weird". I don't even know how to elaborate on that. This is probably going to be a long rambling nonsensical post. You can read if you want, obviously that's why I put it on here, but I just learned how to put things under the "keep reading" cut. I know, I'm super late 😂 but I don't post on here like I'd like to.
I feel like I've just had so many feelings recently. Today one kind of surprised me because I thought "it's gonna be okay". Like, I tell myself that all the time, because life is a struggle and I need to remind myself to keep going and that things WILL in fact be okay. But today the thought occurred to me subconsciously without me having to force it. So, maybe things will actually be okay.
I've been really struggling financially for a couple months. Well, actually about 7 months, since my mom's income got suspended (she's on SSI). We finally got that resolved last month and it helps a ton, she can pay her own bills now. But my bills are behind because I was helping her AND I chose to go down to one day a week at the hotel. I have been doing door dash and spark deliveries for a few months and those options were pretty stable, but now they aren't as busy as they were. I spend many hours each week waiting for deliveries, and sometimes they just dont come. I've resorted to just leaving bills unpaid or overdrafting my bank account to pay them. When I do that, my bank charges me $36 per day that I'm overdrafted. It's a killer. I had to borrow a large sum of money from one of my good friends yesterday, and it just barely covered the overdraft I had.. I will be able to pay him back, and he's allowing me to pay in payments. Im so thankful for him.
I start my new big-girl hospital job on Monday! I'm excited but nervous. I can't believe it's finally here and happening. I take my NCLEX on the 10th. I haven't been studying like I should because all of every day has been spent doing and waiting for deliveries. My goal for today is to answer 100 review questions, maybe more of I can but AT LEAST 100. I have the resources to do it and today I have the time, I just need to make myself. I'm doing that after I post this.
I'll get my first paycheck and a $6500 sign-on bonus check on the 22nd. I just hope I can hold out on money until then. My commute to work will be ~40 minutes each way, and that takes gas. 5 days a week throughout June. After that I may go down to 3 days a week but that's to be determined.
My mom and I have been bickering about money and bills for weeks. We don't live together and our bills are technically separate but we help each other. If I have money and she needs something paid or needs something, I help her, and vice versa. Sometimes one of us will spend money on something unnecessary and it causes a rift. Because money is so tight right now. I don't feel like I should have to explain where every cent of my money goes, but I understand why she gets frustrated. We are broke. I am so ready for us to not have to share money and bills and to be able to do as I wish with the money I make. That's where my frustration comes in also: most of the money we have to spend is mine. I work 3 jobs right now, soon to be 4. If I want to spend the money I work my ass off for, I can do that. I just have to face the consequences of it sometimes..
I'm still living with my aunt and uncle and since my income will be much higher here soon, the thought of getting my own place has crossed my mind. My mom would like for us to live together. I'm not convinced that's a good idea. I'd love to have my own space and there are things I dislike about living with family. My dad may also potentially be moving here before the year is up. He probably wouldn't have a job immediately so he would either have to stay with my mom (in her living room) or with me in my own place. My mom complains about him constantly when he stays at her apartment. If like to avoid that if possible. I also don't enjoy the thought of having to move houses in the summer, that just sounds terrible. Plus, it would give me a few months to save up for deposits and moving costs.. no plans are set in stone yet, but moving this year is a definite possibility.
I've been trying to get back in the mindset of getting healthy and losing weight. I've stopped drinking sodas again (4 days ago) and am consequently drinking more water. However, I started smoking cigarettes again about 1.5 months ago and haven't kicked the habit yet. I am determined to make this pack the last and wait before I start work on Monday... I think I can do it. I haven't been any more active. My scale still says 266, which is 1 pound less than my high weight. At least it's not more right? I just know I'm going to be miserable working as a nurse being this overweight and out of shape. Part of me wants to try keto again because I know it will make me lose weight fast. But I can never keep up with it, I always quit right after it starts working. I'm still trying to decide what I want to do.. trying to decide what I think I can stick with.
I need to call my storage place and pay for my unit. I need to call and pay a loan. I need to go tomorrow to buy scrubs for work. I need to go study. I think I'll end this post there. I'm sorry if you've read this far 😅 I didn't know where I was going with it lol. I feel like I have lots more to say but I'll continue later.
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'so what would you like to do (as work)? If you could get to do anything, without anything holding you back?'
Me, sweating bc I haven't dreamt of a job since I was 7 and wanted to be a dentist: haha
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Clingy
Anon asks: hello! I wanted to request something along the lines of Jin calling his gf clingy behind her back when really she’s just going thru a lot atm and in need of Jin. Super angsty, but with a kind of happy ending??thank you so much if you do end up writing this :)
Paring: Kim Seokjin/reader
Summary: When life becomes too much you always look to Jin for support; however, it seems he’s grown tired of it.
Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, slight fluff
Word Count: 1.5k
You were so grateful for your boyfriend.
Jin seemed to be perfect in every way. You got along easily, he was funny and kind, attentive despite idol life. He was wonderful. He was your perfect shoulder to lean on when you needed it and lately it seemed that you were having more downs and ups in life. You were in your final years of university, working part-time as well. It could get pretty overwhelming at times. You were keeping up fine with your work, but could probably use some more studying, but work was just so hectic lately. It was draining, dealing with rude people and a tough boss that always seemed to have something negative to say to you. Things were starting to feel bad again. Mornings you struggled to get out of bed, often too tired and sluggish to get ready. But you did, you managed to force yourself up and out. Getting through the day was hard though.
Today has been hard. One of your grades was slipping and work had been busier than it had all week. Your manager had yelled at you for not working fast enough, but it was hard when the store seemed packed full of people. You left later than usual as well. Still, you tried to look forward to seeing Jin after such a long day. Lately, he has been the only thing keeping you afloat. Spending time with him just seemed to melt your stress away. Being able to talk to him made the weight on your shoulders feel just a bit lighter.
At this time Jin was still at the studio, but you had already told him you would come by for a bit after work. It was something you did often and Jin always seemed to enjoy it when you came. You entered the building, heading for the practice room right away. The door was cracked open, music off indicating that they were probably taking a breather. You took a deep breath, trying to lift your spirits a bit more before going in. As you went to push the door open you stopped when you heard Jin and Namjoon speaking.
“Is Y/n still going to come by?” Namjoon asked.
“Probably.” Jin sighed.
“You don’t sound very excited.”
“It’s just- she’s been so clingy lately.” Jin admitted, “it’s all day every day with her, I don’t even get any time just for myself anymore.”
You dropped your arm from the doorknob. Clingy? Jin thought you were clingy? Blinking a few times you felt the tears that had built up throughout the day threatening to fall. You hadn’t thought you were being clingy, just seeking comfort. You told him how hard things were getting, but maybe you had gone overboard? You sniffled, taking a step back to turn around and leave, but you bumped into someone instead. Jimin was standing there, a bit of a pale look on his face at what Jin had said. “Y/n” he spoke, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like-”
“I know what he meant” You interrupted, feeling the tears begin to fall. “It’s fine I’ve just been- um” you reached to brush away the tears falling from your eyes. The build of the past few days was finally getting to you. Hearing Jin says that was just what set it all off. You couldn’t help it as you broke down in a fit of tears.
“Y/n, don’t cry” Jimin begged, “come in and talk to Jin.”
“No, I-I don’t want to bother him.” You took a deep breath. “I’m just going to go home, it’s fine.”
“Let me take you home” Jimin offered, “practice is pretty much over anyway, you shouldn’t go alone.” Jimin didn’t give you much of a choice as he told you to wait for him, running in to grab his things and tell the others he had to go. He walked with you out, catching a car to take the two of you to your apartment. He held your hand and tried to comfort you, telling you that Jin was just being stupid, that he didn’t mean it.
You were grateful for his attempts to comfort you, but you had a feeling this wasn’t just some accident. Jimin stayed with you for a bit, talking some more. You told him about your recent troubles, breaking down under the stress of it again. Jimin was there for you as a good friend, but you couldn’t help but wish it was Jin who was sitting with you right now.
You didn’t contact Jin that night or the next day. Jimin checked up on you at least, and when Jin finally texted you ignored him. What was the point if he thought you were too clingy with your problems? He wanted some alone time, so you were giving it to him. Luckily you had the weekend off of work, but the two classes you had over the weekend went missed. You felt bad, thinking about the material you were missing, but you couldn’t seem to drum up the motivation to get out of bed. It wasn’t a new feeling, you had had pretty bad run-ins with depression in the past. It had been a while since you felt this bad though, it felt like the past was just repeating itself. You hardly ate and barely took care of yourself. You just couldn’t see the point in it right now.
Jin, on the other hand, despite enjoying some more free time was beginning to get worried about you. He texted and called a few times, all of them went unanswered. We stopped by your work one evening, only to find you had the weekend off and even called Monday off as well. It had been two days since that evening and he was becoming worried. He contemplated going to your apartment. “Maybe she’s just busy with other things right now.” Taehyung offered as Jin stared at his phone with furrowed brows.
“But she hasn’t answered in almost three days,” he sighed.
“What’s the big deal, didn’t you say she was being too clingy?” Jimin asked, looking up from his phone. “Enjoy your free time Hyung.”
Jin’s face grew a bit flustered. “I didn’t mean-”
“You know she heard you say it right?” Jimin asked, “she looked really hurt, started crying even.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You shouldn’t string her along. If you don’t want to be around her then tell her yourself.” Jimin frowned, “she’s alright, just upset.”
“You talked to her?”
“Yeah, I’ve been checking in. She doesn’t really want to talk to me or anyone.” Jimin informed, “I’m mad at you for being so careless Hyung, but if you really do care about her I suggest you fix things.”
Jin was at your apartment only an hour later. He knocked a few times, waiting impatiently for your answer. He used the spare key you had given him to get in. He went straight for the bedroom, frowning at how dark it was. He moved to peel the curtains open, letting the sunlight bounce around the room and onto the pile of blankets on the bed. “Y/n?” Jin asked, going to your bedside and tossing the blankets off of your head. “Y/n, are you alright?” He asked, concern laced in his tone. You didn’t look very good, curled up in the safety of your blankers, hair tangled and heavy bag under your eyes.
“What do you want?” You asked coldly, turning away.
“Y/n, I didn’t mean for you to hear what I said-”
“Well, I did. I’m sorry for being so clingy Jin.” You tried to keep your voice strong and mad, but you could feel it slipping the more he talked to you.
“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” Jin apologized, “you’re not clingy, I was just talking my stress out on you. I love being around you.”
“I-I don’t mean to be so clingy Jin, things are just really hard right now.” You sniffle, turning over to look at him. “Work, school, everything’s too much. You make everything better, that’s why I wanted to be around you so much. You make me forget all my problems.”
“I know” Jin spoke softly, moving to sit down beside you, his hand coming to rub up and down your arm. “I shouldn’t talk about you like that, you know I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Can I cuddle?” He asked, waiting for you to slowly nod and scoot over a bit so he could slip under the covers beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “We can talk more about it later okay? I love you Y/n.”
You nodded, not entirely feeling better. You were willing to talk more about it, as you weren’t willing to just break your relationship off over it. You loved Jin, obviously, he loved you as well, but you couldn’t help the creeping feeling in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if things with Jin would ever truly go back to normal.
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Honey and Chamomile
summary: Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart
pairing: bucky x reader
word count: 5.8k
warnings: lots of fluff, but also nightmares, and lots of tea because im a fanatic
a/n: this was written for @coffee-with-bucky‘s 2k writing challenge and it’s a thousand years late, but I hope you enjoy it! My prompt was 🌟 tea 🌟
It starts late in the evening as the thunder rolls in, low breaks amongst the clouds in the distance, a flicker of lightening touching the night sky and illuminating the shadows cast by the city. Painted raindrops slide against on the windowsill, racing one another to the edge of the pane. It’s soothing as you close your eyes and lose yourself in the soft tap-tap-tap to the walls of the tower and the hums of thunder miles beyond the city. It’s better than the silence, anyway.
The whistle of a kettle sings by the stove and it pulls you gently from your stance at the window. Mug in hand, you grab a bag of peppermint tea from the small box to the right of the kettle; paintings of sunsets and starry nights along the wooden frame. You close the lid and tug the string of the bag so it lays over the lip of the mug. Hot water finds its home at the center and the air around you fills of candy canes and memories of nights wrapped in blankets by the fireplace.
You hear footsteps behind you as you set the kettle back on the stovetop, careful of the bright red rings of the burner, and slowly wrap your hands around the mug. There’s a shuffle at the edge of the kitchen as the warmth of the mug touches your palms, soothes right up into your arms, the liquid too hot to drink but the steam of it is comforting against your cheeks. Crisp and cool amongst burning heat.
“Didn’t think you were home,” you say quietly, back turned to the figure who takes in a sharp breath in response.
The team was out on a mission, one Cap insisted you stay clear of after your near fatal gunshot wound in Bratislava last month. You fought it tooth and nail, but what Cap says goes, and well, you didn’t.
“Steve says I need more time,” Bucky replies, voice barely a whisper and you can practically picture the way he digs his hands into the pockets of his plaid pajama pants, scrunching at the fabric from the inside as a way to ground himself.
“Steve’s a little overprotective, don’t you think?” you chuckle lightly, turning from the window where the raindrops cast down along the glass in full, sweeping lines to find Bucky standing just beyond the plane of the kitchen. Just close enough to make his presence known, far enough to escape. Always one foot in, one foot at the exit. Self-preservation is a hell of a drug to kick.
“He’s right, though. Hard to trust a teammate who doesn’t trust his own mind,” Bucky mumbles slowly, scratching at the nape of his neck.
The shine of silver catches your eye under the dim overhead lighting and he notices it almost instantly, the way your gaze draws to solid metal, how you study the lines and bolts in his joints, and he drops his arm. He holds it then behind his back, tries to play it off casually, but you see how he hides it from view, like he’s been caught with something he shouldn’t have. A weapon.
You sigh, setting the mug down on the counter, the whisper of peppermint on your lips. He sells himself short, gets locked up in the mindset of what Hydra conditioned him to be, struggles to come back to himself and trust that he can control his own mind again. You know how often he wonders when he’ll lose it again, when he’ll break to someone else’s will and be forced to commit terrible acts again. It’s never a matter of ‘if’, but ‘when.’
He wonders when he’ll hurt Steve, or Sam, or Nat, or you. He wonders when the final straw will break and the floor will be ripped out from under him, when he’ll take a life he can’t give back. He wonders when enough will be enough and you’ll decide he’s not worth the trouble.
“I trust you,” you say, and you do mean it, but Bucky only shrugs, eyes downcast.
He shuffles he feet again. It’s uncomfortable for him to hear, you realize. It's foreign in his body and he barely recognizes the kindness in it when he feels it, the certainty of it, because it has been so long since he knew anything but cruelty and manipulation.
So, you pull a second mug from the cabinet; the one behind the Captain America logo painted on the side and Tony’s Disney themed mug that reads ‘Greatest Place on Earth 2003’ down the handle. You grab onto the edge of the mug tucked far into the back; light blue in color, soft undertones along the bottom. It’s painted like the waves of the ocean. It reminds you of him.
Bucky doesn’t say anything as you grab a second teabag from your wooden box and drop it in the mug, or as you fill the cup with the steaming water. You set it at the edge of the counter, eyeing him carefully as he remains still in his stance. One foot in, one foot at the exit.
“There’s sugar and milk if you want some,” you offer but Bucky shakes his head.
“No, no, this is just fine,” he says, voice a little uneven, almost as if he’s surprised by the gesture.
He steps forward, out of the shadows of the hallway and lets the soft lights of the lamp at the couch’s end touch his skin. They illuminate over messy hair, a few strands out of place, creases in his cheeks from pillow cases, the way he sways side to side in his stance. Nervous energy for a man with precision behind a barrel unlike anyone you’d ever seen.
He takes the mug, testing the heat of the surface, before he pulls it between his hands. You busy yourself with your own tea, taking a sip as you watch him bring it the mug to his lips. He pauses, smelling the hot water and you’re almost certain you see his cheek twitch. Ever so slightly, gone in an instant, but a remnant of a smile remains.
“I’ll be at the gym by nine tomorrow morning if you want to join me,” you say as you head towards the hallway. “I’ve seen your left hook and I could use some help on my stance.”
Bucky swallows back scalding hot tea like it’s nothing, his shoulders pushing up by his ears, startled by your request and it makes you laugh a bit. He chokes out a short nod, flustered perhaps judging by the pink in his cheeks.
You smile back at him, pausing at the doorframe to look at him one last time as he leans against the kitchen sink.
The smell of peppermint lingers in your wake.
***
You sit on the couch in the living room with your feet kicked up on the ottoman, book resting in your lap and a warm cup of tea nestled in your right hand. Its leans onto your chest as the steam of a sweet, woody scent of green tea filters through the air.
Fresh off of a month-long surveillance mission in Chechnya, your body is sore from long nights in cramped cars and your mind a little disengaged from hours staring out at a single window through the short end of binoculars.
Natasha sits quietly at the kitchen table behind you, flipping through the files spread out amongst the surface in organized chaos. The soft hum of a playlist on the overhead speakers drown out the grunts of Steve and Sam sparring down the hall in the training room.
You smile as you hear the shuffle of footsteps at the edge of the room, feet dragging purposefully along the tile. You don’t have to look up to know who is it, but you do wonder when Bucky decided to start dragging his feet to alert you to his presence.
He used to be impossibly quiet in his steps, like he was hunting prey even with his defenses down as much as he would allow them. He's snuck up on you a few times before without meaning to, his voice in greeting startling you enough to drop a mug of scalding tea from your hands and onto your exposed thighs and the tile below. If you think hard enough about it, you’d realize it was that moment, as he scrambled to dry your skin of the hot water, frantic apologies under his breath, as he knelt into the broken shards of your mug, that his steps became louder when he approached.
He hasn’t been able to sneak up on you since.
“Hey,” he says quietly from the edge of the room.
You smile to yourself, eyes still on the lines of the novel though you haven’t looked up at him yet. “Hey.”
“Smells good.”
You nod, taking in a heavy whiff of the steeping tea. “Wanna try?”
Bucky sits down on the couch beside you, a full cushion as a barrier between, but you don’t mind. He’s slow to warm up, cautious with even the people he trusts most, and you have no interest in pushing him beyond his boundaries. He sits rigid on the couch, stiff, though you can tell he’s trying to relax. He's fighting with his muscles and arguing with his mind.
“Here,” you offer, extending the mug to him.
He stares at you, blue eyes flickering from the tea and back to your face suspiciously.
“I haven’t poisoned it, Bucky,” you tease, pulling it back to your lips and taking a sip in proof. You sigh as it passed down your chest, warming you from the inside. It doesn’t slip your notice that Bucky’s eyes linger on your lips long after you’ve extended the mug back to him.
“If it’s a germ thing, I can make you a fresh cup,” you offer, laughing a bit under your breath.
“No, uh, thank you,” Bucky musters out and slowly takes the mug from your hands.
You nod and quickly return to your book, though you keep an eye on him in the reflection of the television screen. He studies the mug for a moment, looking over the slightly uneven edges of the ceramic, the speckles of golden flakes mixed amongst the brush strokes.
“Did you make this?”
“Steeped it myself,” you chuckle. “Strenuous work.”
Bucky laughs at that, though it’s muffled a bit, restricted, but it’s still there, still light and airy and incredibly beautiful.
“The mug,” he clarifies as he holds it up. “Did you make the mug?”
“Hey, even an Avenger need a hobby, right?” you shrug, albeit a little embarrassed. The walls of the mug are uneven, the painting done under dim lighting after hours as the little ceramics shop would have been swarmed with fans if not for the kindness of the owner who let you stay late into the evening. “I know it’s not very good--”
“I like it.”
Bucky smiles softly as he nods at you, examining the mug further. He traces over the handle that’s slightly too small for his grip, the edges that sway up and down like waves, the dot of red paint at the bottom that accidentally made its way onto the surface.
He takes a sip and you watch as his whole body seems to sigh in response. Muscles easing, tension leaving him. It’s a respite.
When he hands the mug back to you, you expect him to leave. He doesn’t. Instead, he stays quietly with you, sitting contently as he picks up a newspaper from the end table and you resume your place in your book. Perfectly quiet. Comfortable.
***
“Will you just take the medicine... please?”
“I’m an Avenger, Bucky, I can fight off the common cold.”
“You can barely breathe on your own. I might call for an ambulance. It's starting to look dire. Life or death kind of situation.”
“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, swatting his hands away as you quickly move to cover your mouth as another coughing fit takes over. It burns deep into your lungs, aches hard in your chest, makes it quite hard to catch your breath again, but you feel a soft touch on your back; gentle, soothing circles of a flat hand pressed to your spine, and you manage to find air again.
You wipe your lips as he pulls back. “Thanks.”
“It’s nothing,” he says with a soft smile, waving you off.
“I could get you sick. You should’ve had me quarantined like everyone else.”
“Aren’t you dramatic today?” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I can't get sick with this serum running in my veins, you know that. Besides, no one’s quarantining you. They’re just--”
“--avoiding me like the plague?”
Bucky grimaces. “Yeah, maybe.”
You smile tiredly at him, heat a little fuzzy, vision a little tunneled, but you enjoy the way he smiles back at you. He has such a nice smile, pretty, to the point where it’s almost unfair. It curves up into his cheeks, creating lines around and under his eyes, bright and cheery and you almost forget he’s also a ghost story of an assassin with the sharpshooting range more precise than a drone.
Before you can realize what you’re doing, under the haze of a clouded mind, your hand reaches out and touches his cheek. He freezes under your touch, surprised more than anything else, and he watches with wide eyes as you dreamily trace the lines in his face, the curve of his jaw and the tip of his nose. Your head feels a little fuzzy and your eye lids flutter heavily, just as Bucky begins to smile again.
“Take the meds, doll,” Bucky asks again sweetly. He slowly pries your hand from his face and sets two red pills in your left hand, a glass of water in your right. He guides your hand with the medication up towards your mouth. “Please? I miss my training partner. Can’t spare with someone who’s half dead in the living room from a stuffy nose and I refuse to go back to Wilson.”
“Okay, okay,” you grumble playfully, quickly swallowing the medication and chasing it with the water.
The couch dips slightly as Bucky gets up, jogging over to the kitchen. The whistle of the kettle is muffled in your ears, like it’s distant and behind several walls and closed doors. You stretch your jaw, trying to pop away the barrier, but it’s of no use.
You watch silently as Bucky scrambles around the kitchen, a little flustered for his frame, and you can’t help the smile that pushes at your cheeks.
“Top right,” you tell him, pointing to the cabinet over his shoulder.
He sighs, shakes his head, and sure enough, the mugs are in the cabinet on his right. He pulls down two from the shelf. For you, the one with the tiny cartoon dinosaur on the front dressed in an Iron Man suit, and for himself, he grabs the one you made months prior, with the uneven edges and the red paint stain on the side.
Then, he starts in search of the wooden box and you give him a minute of pulling open every drawer he can find until you tell him, “behind the bread bin on the counter.”
"Oh, of course. Makes perfect sense,” Bucky teases and flips through the packets inside.
He purses his lips, narrowing his eyes, clearly in search of something specific. His whole face lights up as he grabs what he’s in search of and quickly rips open the packets and sets them inside the mugs. He pours the hot water and carefully blows on the surface of the mugs, the steam pushing out in front of him as he sighs.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he says as he makes his way back to you, setting the mug on the arm rest of the couch to give you enough leverage to grab the handle. You smile up at him appreciatively as he takes his seat next to you.
Bringing the mug to your lips, you take in a deep breath – or, as much as you able to give the swarm of congestion in your head.
Spiced and warm. Peppery sharp. Lemon and ginger.
“Bucky Barnes, did you use google for me?”
He chuckles nervously as his hand rakes through his hair, pushing it from his eyes only for it to fall back to place again. “It, uh, it said ginger tea is supposed to be good for you when you’re sick, so I thought, uh, it thought it would help.”
You struggle to contain your grin, hiding it behind the mug as you take a sip. You can already feel your sinuses beginning to clear.
“That’s very sweet of you. Thanks, Buck.”
He nods a little sheepishly, fluster burning warm in his cheeks, but he meets your eyes; the perfect wave of blues and greys, a gentle ocean amongst a sweeping current.
***
When you wake with a harsh gasp in your throat, a sharp yank of reality away from your dreams, the piercing sound of screams echoing down the hall, it’s not the first time.
You know the routine well by now, know that Steve will meet you in the hallway by Bucky's door where the screams only seem to get louder with every passing second and he’ll ask you gently to go back to your room, remind you that he’s got this and Bucky will be alright. He always is, Steve tells you, but it doesn’t lessen the heartbreak of hearing the cracks in Bucky’s voice, the sudden whimpers, the shattering silence that follows as he wakes.
The two of you will skirt around things in the morning as you always do. Bucky will stumble out of his room with dark circles under his eyes, a drag in his feet, shoulders slumped as he slides into a chair by the kitchen. He’ll sit silently as you pour him an herbal tea from your box, never something with caffeine because he’s got enough energy in his veins as they come out in tremors in his hand and bouncing in his knee. Sometimes you give him raspberry, sometimes apple caramel, sometimes peach, and he’ll nod without looking at you, pull the mug close to his face and hold the steam to his lips until it goes cold.
Those mornings frighten you because it takes him back to Bucky you knew in the beginning, before he’d learned to smile and laugh again, before he became a permanent fixture in your life, one you were unwilling to live without.
So as your feet carry you down the hall, skirting around the corner and chasing after the screams, you realize Steve won’t be there waiting. He’s out on a mission with Sam in Ukraine for the next few days. There’s no one else on this floor. It’s just you.
You, Bucky, and the monsters in his dreams.
You freeze at the edge of his door, hand gripped tight to the handle, but you can’t move.
You’re made of marble and stone because even though you and Bucky had come miles since he first came to the tower, you’ve never seen him like this; scared, begging to invisible forces, voice breaking, crying. You haven’t seen him at his lowest and you don’t know if he’ll resent you opening this door, if he’ll be angry with you for breaking that wall of trust, for intruding on something so vulnerable he doesn’t share with anyone but Steve.
But when a scream leaves his lips again, one so broken and distorted it jars itself straight through to your heart like the serrated edge of a blade, you shove your way inside, pushing consequences to the morning.
Bucky lays amongst a mess of sheets, damp with sweat as his hands curl into the fabric, teeth gritted, chest heavy with labored breaths. His eyes are closed shut, painfully so, and you try to ignore the drip of sweat down his exposed chest, how it falls along the lines of his muscles, because he’s thrashing in his sleep like something is holding him down, chocking him, and there’s tears in your eyes as you rush forward.
“Bucky,” you call far too gently. “Bucky, wake up.”
You don’t know what to do. Steve is the one who usually wakes him and you don’t have the kind of strength he does. You don’t know what laying a hand to Bucky’s shoulder will do, if the touch will ground him or shock him to a dream like state, pull him from his nightmares or throw him back to the clutches of the soldier.
But you have to try.
You can’t listen to him beg through bated breaths, “stop, stop please-- don’t! Please, someone help--”
“I’ve got you,” you say a little louder. “You’re okay, Buck. You’re not alone. You’re safe, alright? But you’ve gotta wake up now. Please, Bucky. Wake up.”
You set a hand on his forearm and he jolts up in an instant. You stumble back a few paces in shock, heart beating like thunder in your chest as you hit the sharp edge of his dress to your spine. Hands clutched tight to your chest, afraid you might have to fight him to bring him back, but Bucky remains still. He’s panting, chest heaving as hair falls down into his eyes.
You decide to test the waters.
“Bucky?”
He flinches violently, a sharp intake of breath, though he doesn’t turn to look at you. His hands dig deeper into the sheets in search of a respite he will not find and it nearly breaks your heart in two.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice rough and used. He can’t bear to look at you. “I thought it was under control. I—I told Steve it was okay for him to go. You shouldn’t-- You shouldn’t have to--”
“Do you want some tea?”
The words tumble out faster than you can process them. It feels like the wrong thing to say, especially with that look on his face, the guilt and shame seeping through beautifully soft and kind features, but you know his heart is racing a hundred miles a minute. Judging by the tension in his back, he’s stiff as a board, too.
You step forward as he slowly turns to look at you. There's confusion mixed in with the undeserving shame, but it’s a start at least, you think. A couple cautious more steps closer to the bed and you’re standing right next to him, hovering above him as he bends his legs and wipes his brow of sweat with the edge of the sheet.
“It usually helps me calm down at night,” you offer slowly, as gently as you can manage. “I, uh, I get nightmares, too, sometimes. Not quite as loud as yours but...”
Bucky nods in understanding. He’s heard you pacing in your room in the dead of night when sleep evades him as it often does. He’s seen when you trudge out from your room in the early hours of the morning with the kind of look in your eye that reminds him too much of himself.
“It’ll only take a second,” you say, nodding to yourself as you try to calculate the time it would take to boil the water and ready the mugs. “I’ll be right back.”
You move to take a step back but there’s a tug on your wrist. You pause, glancing down to find Bucky’s hand circling at your arm, holding you steady, though his stare remains glued to the sheets.
“Don’t go.”
It comes out in a whimper, a low break in his voice, and your heart plummets down to your stomach.
“I’ll come right back. I promise,” you ease him, stepping closer again, though you notice he doesn’t release your hand. It’s not painful, but it’s firm. He’s holding on for dear life.
“Please,” he whispers and this time, as he looks up with you, you’re met with tears in the blue of his eyes. It cracks your resolve in an instant.
“Okay. Will you come with me?”
Bucky swallows thickly, holding your gaze for a moment before he eventually nods. The sheets are thrown from his legs and you realize he sleeps only in his boxers. The realization seems to hit him just as quick.
“S-sorry,” he mumbles, “just, um, just let me--”
You step back as he releases your hand and slowly stands at the edge of the bed. He grabs his pajama pants from the floor and quickly step into them with a heated blush on his cheeks. It makes you painfully aware of the mess of an old, ratted t-shirt and shorts you sleep in, though you push it aside quickly because Bucky’s eyes have fallen to the ground and you don’t want him to retreat within himself. Not again.
“Come on.”
You extend your hand for him, waiting patiently as he stares at it for a moment. It’s an intimate gesture, more contact than you’ve had with him, but you know despite his aversion to touch, he craves it unlike anything else. He’s vulnerable right now and you hope he’ll take the anchor as you throw it to him.
When his hand does mold to yours, it fits perfectly, exactly where he’s supposed to be and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever let you do this again. You squeeze his hand softly as he finds an even pace at your side and you lead him to the kitchen.
He lets go of your hand to give you enough space to prepare the water, but he’s never far from reach. When you glance back at him, you find a strange mixture of fear and something you can't quite place in his eyes. It isn’t until you catch him surveying the room, the adjoining hallways, the flinches at the slightest settling of the tower, that you realize he’s on guard. It’s like he’s protecting you.
“Take a seat, Buck,” you ask of him gently, nodding to the chair at the kitchen table. “Try and relax for me. Deep breaths, okay?”
He follows your gaze, hesitantly glancing over the area, always on alert, before he turns back to you. There’s a resistance in his movement as he takes his first steps away from you, but he holds your gaze, holds the softness of your smile as long as he can, while he slumps down into the chair. It’s too far away from you, but he manages.
The kettle boils quickly and you slip two bags of tea into the mugs. Hot water in next, you drizzle an ounce of thick amber on top, swirling it around with the heal of a spoon. The smell of earthy apples and sweet nectar.
Honey and chamomile.
When you make your way over to the table to join him, Bucky is slouched down in his seat, dark circles heavy under his eyes, though he forces out a strained smile as you slide in next to him. You drag a chair up as close to his as you can, your shoulders bumping somewhat as you set the mug in front of him.
“Drink,” you tell him. “It will help you fall back asleep.”
“I can’t go back to sleep after that. I never do after... you know,” he mumbles, shaking his head, though he does take in a heavy inhale of the sweet aroma of steam.
“You’re telling me my teas won’t cure all of life’s problems?” you scoff playfully. “Blasphemy.”
It steals a smile from his lips, curving up ever so slightly into his cheeks though you can see his body fighting against it. You set a hand on his forearm, one that comes in comfort by stark contrast of the way he used to flinch out of your touch. With a slight squeeze, you draw his attention back to you, the blue of his eyes overcast into deep navy, lids falling heavy with sleep despite the race of his heart.
“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just let me help you, alright? Drink the tea, Bucky. I’m not going anywhere until you do.”
He nods, a slight ghost of a laugh in his exhale. “Okay.”
You smile triumphantly as you pull your own mug to your hands, warmth spreading into your palms and you take a sip. It stings on your tongue a bit, too hot, but it feels nice as it travels down into your chest, warms you from the inside out.
The two of you sit in silence for a while, the only sounds between you coming from the muffled purr of the furnace and the contented sighs as the tea touches your lips. Bucky’s shoulders start to relax as he his mug nears empty, his body swaying in his seat and you can practically see the exhaustion nestled in his bones.
You swig back the last sip in your own mug and set it on the table, a task you’ll deal with in the morning as you slowly push Bucky’s mug out of his reach.
“Come on, Buck. Let’s get you back to bed.”
He comes easily as you offer your hand, guiding him away from the sanctuary of the kitchen and back to the room that holds his monsters. The grip on your hand tightens with every step and you rub your free hand down his forearm soothingly, trying to pull the tension away. You can feel the anxiety rushing through his veins, the panic reemerging back to the surface as you cross the threshold into his room.
You know he won’t ask. He won’t dare because he can so often get wrapped up in his own mind, the chamber of burden and isolation, of guilt and shame, and he often forgets how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him.
So, you don’t say a word as you lead him slowly to the bed, releasing his hand as he slides back under the covers. His body is rigid as ice and you can feel his eyes on you, trying to memorize your face for when the darkness takes over and he prepares for you to leave.
It surprises him when your hand slips over his forehead, brushes up into his hair, and you lean down to kiss his temple. The gasp that it pulls from him is muffled, impossibly sweet, and you linger there a moment longer before you pull away.
Bucky stays silent though you can see the question burning behind the blue of his eyes.
Stay. Stay. Stay.
There isn’t an ounce of hesitancy as you slowly make your way around to the other side of the bed and pull back the covers. The mattress is firmer on this side in its lack of use as your knee dips onto the surface. Bucky is watching you cautiously, stunned, but his muscles start to relax as you settle in next to him.
“This okay?” you ask, just to be sure.
He nods quickly. “Y-yes.”
“Try to get some sleep, alright? I’ll be right here.”
He doesn't say anything, but there’s relief slipping through the tension in his body, pushing out the stones with the gentle flow of a calming stream. You smile at him as you turn onto your side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder, grounding him to the earth, to you.
You close your eyes and hope that he will feel safe enough to follow.
***
“Y/n?”
“Yeah?” Your voice is muffled by the pillow and you turn to find stars still littering the night sky. You don’t know how much time has passed, how long he’s been lying there in the prolonged silence, churning thoughts racing through his mind, so you turn onto your stomach, prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.
“You wanna go to the tea shop in Brooklyn with me tomorrow?”
You narrow your eyes, confused why he’s asking you near – you check the clock by his bedside – three in the morning. His stare is trained up at the ceiling for a moment before he turns to look at you, ocean blue littered with nerves, a new kind of vulnerability you haven’t seen in him before.
“Of course, Buck. Whatever you--”
“As a date, I mean.”
It catches you off guard, wakes you quickly. Tongue tied and throat dry.
Bucky swallows nervously and you can tell that he’s been working himself up to asking you in the hour or so that he’s been lying here awake as you curled up next to him. There are dozens of excuses brewing in the back of his mind, ways to play this off as a joke or anything but what he wants it to be in a way to preserve the friendship between you, but before he can start the waterfall of backtracking, a smile curves up along your lips.
“That sounds really nice.”
He smiles back at you. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Okay, good.” He nods to himself, settling back into the mattress with the widest grin you’d seen on him in ages. It wrinkles up into his eyes, brightens across his face bright and cheery, sits in startling contrast to the way you’d found him just hours before. You like seeing him this happy. You like being the cause of it even more.
“Will you go to sleep now?” you tease him, nudging at his shoulder enough to pull a laugh from his chest.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good. Don’t want you half asleep on our date.” It twists pleasantly in your stomach as you say it, butterflies and goosebumps and you bite back the smile pushing high up into your cheeks.
“Can’t have that,” he replies, chuckling to himself and it doesn’t slip your notice how his smile seems to widen as you say the word, too. Date.
You slide back down onto the mattress, trying to find your comfortable position again when Bucky extends his arm. There’s a short pause as he waits, staring up at the ceiling, and you realize what he’s offering. Without a second thought, like you’re coming home, you scoot your body closer to him, rest your head on his shoulder as his arm curls around your back, holding you securely against him.
The soft thumping of his heart beats gently under your ear, your hand resting against his ribs, tracing lines that leave shivers in their wake. He traces patterns onto your back, his eyes slowly fluttering shut until the movement stops and he falls into the warm embrace of sleep.
You sigh, content in his even breaths, the slow pace of his heart, the muffles snores. Hugging him close, holding him in your arms where he’s always belonged. You fall asleep wrapped in the scent of honey and chamomile.
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
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hq boys when you're feeling anxious or stressed
suna rintaro, hinata shoyo, oikawa toru x gn!r
!warnings! mentions of anxiety, reader comparing themselves to others, mentions of food & hunger, driving. this is like all fluff no angst rlly tbh.
SUNA RINTARO.
he could tell something was up but conviced himself he shouldnt pry as he had already asked you twice if you were feeling alright, to which you reasurred him with a "yep" both times, it was suspicious but he thought maybe you just wanted to be left alone. meanwhile you weren't sure why you lied him, you obviously were not doing okay at the moment. currently he was driving you home and your anxiety was going absolutely crazy from the amount of school work that was piling up on you, it's unfair you thought to yourself, looking out the window. not only were you stressed from work but trying to keep up with your friend was hard, to say the least. they were phenomenal students, straight As in their transcript and though your grades were just fine, you couldn't help but feel inferior and insecure. it's unfair how effortlessly smart they are and how i'll never be able to catch up.... oh boy if your thoughts weren't running wild before they definitely were now, you hadn't even realized your boyfriend pulling into your driveway until he slightly tapped your shoulder. "are you sure you're alright? i don't wanna pressure you ofcourse but, you know you can tell me anything right?" ... and there were the water works! the little string holding you together had snapped just like that. you sat there in the passengers seat sobbing into your hands and suna rintaro hadn't a clue what to do in the moment.
"give me just a sec" you heard him mumble but not before he gave you a kiss as light as a feather on the top of your head. somehow you didn't notice him exit the car and rush to your side until he opened your door and hugged you so tight you honestly couldn't breathe. after a few seconds your boyfriend let go of the embrace which, to his dismay, only made you cry even harder. now, he knew he was known for being quite... stoic but he was definitely panicking on the inside and it was really difficult to remain calm on the outside. your boyfriend carefully reached over you to unbuckle the seatbelt that you had yet to unclasp. "lets go inside baby." his voice was so gentle it would've taken you by surprise had you not still been crying. you nodded in response and he helped you carefully out of the car, holding your hand all the way to the door, "d'ya have your key?" you nodded trying your best to unlock the door, after a few struggled and shakey attempts you finally had your door unlocked but not without rins help because he couldn't bare to watch you struggle any longer.
stepping inside rin helped you take your shoes off, removing his own after, "bedroom?" having calmed down a little you whispered "yes," with a small nod. he nodded with you in response and took you to your bedroom. after helping you change into comfy clothes he helped you into bed, crawling in right behind you. your back was snug against his chest and he held you super tightly, it was silent for a few minutes until finally he spoke up, "please tell me how i can help" you could feel your lip quiver. "well... you don't have to say anything right now, you know i can wait. i'll even leave if you want, i just wanted you to know that you can tell me whenever you're ready and that i'll listen." neither of you were sure when you'd be ready to admit what had gotten you so upset but you felt comfortable knowing suna rintaro would be there whenever you were ready, whether it be minutes from now or even months.
HINATA SHOYO.
your silence on the walk home was starting to concern him.. maybe im just talking too much... he thought, "hey... im sorry if im talking your ear off.. how was your day angel?" to say he was disappointed with your response would be an understatement. not thar you HAD to talk but usually you were talkative with him and the worry in his tummy was only growing more. a simple, "oh.. my day was alright sho," simply woundn't cut it! "hey, are you feeling okay?" it was silent for a few seconds before you answered a mumbled "i think so, are you feeling alright, sho?" he simply nodded with a "mhm" and you told him to continue on with his story from earlier.
he complied but only to fill the silence. hinata decided to trust you when you said you were okay because you know your own feelings and he knows for a fact he's made it clear before that you could and should let him know if something was bothering you. though you enjoyed listening to hinata's stories you only found yourself getting lost in your own mind whilst he rambled on.you could tell he was suspicious of your behavior but was grateful he had left his curiosity behind because you were sure you would snap if he had asked you if you were okay again, you really didn't want to cry in front of him. truth is, your thoughts were running wild, stressing over the smallest things; assignments due at the end of the week, what you were gonna get your boyfriend for your anniversary, how you were gonna make time for your friends surprise birthday party and helping sho with his studied all the while trying to take care of your own self and keep your own grades afloat. "y/n..? we're at your house.. are you sure your alright? you look a little pale, are you ill?" crap! how had you not noticed you were approaching your own driveway you wanted to slap yourself for being so clueless. you couldn't help but feel horrible for not listening to your boyfriends story also.
"yes sho i'm fine really, i just didn't have time to eat lunch today but i have food inside so don't worry m'may?" he looked at you suspiciously and you knew he was onto you, "y'know y/n, i'm not gonna force you to tell me what's going on but just know i'll always be here for you, okay?" he gave you a small smile before engulfing you into a tight hug, it honestly melted your heart. surprisingly, you didn't start crying on the spot. "y'know, i wanted to trust you when you said you were okay but now i'm not so sure if you were telling the truth," he mumbled into your shoulder. you sighed, giving up the facade. "sho.... i just don't know what to do honestly, i have alot on my plate right now and i'm really stressed with all the responsibilities ive piled onto myself," you admitted. he nodded lifting his head from your shoulder, giving you the brightest smile, "well, i can always help out! i might not be the mooost helpful person ever but i'll try my best, and if anything i'm good moral support!" you giggled at that but suddenly you felt your lip quiver from the sudden guilt you feeling, "i'm sorry for lying to you sho-", "hey! its alright! you dont need to apologize. especially dont need you crying on me now!" he smiled cupping your face in his hands, wiping away a few stray tears of whom managed to escape.
OIKAWA TORU.
you smile back at him and thought of how silly it was that you tried keeping your feelings a secret from your boyfriend of two years, hinata shoyo, feeling glad that you confided in him. he knew you were upset as soon as he saw you that very morning, he could read you like and open book and you knew that fact very well. still though, you tried your best to hide yourself from him, though it was hard considering you sitting right next to him in the passenger seat of his car. finally after a whole day of being worried sick, he was tired of leaving things left unsaid "babyyyy," he sang for you from the kitchen, "please come here a sec!" he yelled for you louder. soon you came trudging down the hallway, blanket wrapped around your body, he couldn't help but smile at how adorable his s/o looked.
"c'mere quickly," he said will a grin, opening his arms for a hug, which you gladly accept, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly. "now, i know you know that i know that you're not feeling well, so please tell me what's got my angel so upset?" he said softly rubbing his hand lightly over your back, his voice a little muffled from his cheek being squished against the top of your head. you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding, "'m sorry tooru, i don't know what's wrong with me today.... just not feeling well." you felt him nod against your head in response, "well good thing your amazing boyfriend is here to make you feel all better huh?" you let a out small giggle at that. "you know you can tell me when you're feeling down right? you shouldn't keep things bottled up inside", "i know tooru... im sorry, i just dont really know wbat i'm feeling so down about though," you admitted shyly. "hey that's okay! there absolutely no need to apologize for that, here, look at me, angel," he tilts your face so you're looking up at him, his big soft hands holding your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks lightly, "i'm here whenever you figure it out, hell, even if you dont figure it out or there just isn't any reason at all. you know i'm always, always, always here. i promise you that, m'kay?" he finishes his little speech with a smile, smothering your face in kisses. you could only feel relieved, thankful and loved. because you knew that you would always have your soulmate, oikawa toru by your side.
( a/n ; ahh so im sorry if this has any spelling or grammatical errors it's sort of late as i'm writing this! and im too lazy to proof read.... also it might just all be word vomit and if it is im so sorry 😩 ++ i'm positive ive kept the reader gn throughout the whole thing but if there are slip-ups i promise i'll do better next time! i rlly wanted to write some hq boys when ur feeling anxious and beyond stressed because i have been MEGA struggling with my own anxiety lately, especially bc of school so i just needed to let my feelings go! anywhooo i hope everyone who reads this has an amazing day or night! ) p.s. im new to writing so be nice 2 me or whatever 😩🙄😌👍🏻
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A Pretty Good Bad Idea - Owen Joyner x Reader
JATP masterlist
Warnings: swearing, peer pressure kinda, very mild n fluffy
Words: 1865
Summary: Touring with the Julie and The Phantoms cast as a dancer has been the best time of your life, and the only thing that could make it better is the reciprocated affections of a cute, blond drummer.
A/N: So this piece is 1) inspired by this interview and 2) entirely self indulgent. It’s something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind every time I’m doing warm ups, and putting it down on ,, digital paper is my only way to get rid of it lmao. I hope y’all enjoy bc I know this scenario makes me really happy and I love sharing my joy with y’all.
I let out an involuntary whine when I roll forward into my almost-center splits. My hips are so sore from yesterday’s performance I had to force myself to start stretching in the first place. Getting a head start, I arrived at the concert venue an hour earlier than call time to get my lengthy stretching routine out of the way before the other girls show up. Slowly but surely, the rest of the dancers arrived and we began getting ready together.
“I have a speaker!” Tori announces to the room upon entering which makes me jump up from my seat.
“Yes! May I do the honors and bless y’all with my musical theatre playlist?” The rest of the group cheers, exposing themselves for the theatre kids that we are. After hearing the chime that signifies the speaker-phone pairing, a few seconds pass before “Cell Block Tango” begins to play. The entire group feigns outrage but we know all the words and soon indulge in such shameful pandering. A good pre-show playlist is what really gets me amped up for performing and after yesterday’s queue of ‘today’s hits’ pop, the musical theatre is a nice change of pace.
Since I’d gotten here so early, I decided to do my makeup before stretching and I still had time to spare. The only thing left for me to do was to get in costume but I’d wait until a little closer to showtime so that I could still eat and drink for the time being. This also meant I was free to roam and bother other people as they got ready, doing what I’d done almost an hour ago.
“So, Y/n?”
“Hm?”
“What’s going on with you and Owen?” I feel my breathing halt for a microsecond before looking up at, one of the other dancers and also my friend, Ella. My eyebrows are cinched in confusion as I try my best to figure out what it is she’s getting at.
“I don’t know, Ella. What is going on with me and Owen?”
“Oh come on. Your Instagram story from yesterday?” Oh. That.
“We just went to lunch?” I seemingly ask more than state.
“Yeah. Just the two of you. Don’t hold out on us, we wanna know what’s going on!”
“Really, Ella, there’s nothing going on. We’re just getting to know each other better.”
“Just getting to know each other better? Or getting to know each other better?” Tori butts in, dusting her cheeks with a subtle highlight.
“The first one?”
“How many times have you hung out?”
“Just the once.”
“Are you planning another date?”
“It wasn’t a date-”
“Do you want us to help wingman you?”
“I really don’t-”
“Hey.” The rapid-fire of questions cease when the gang of us look up to see Owen himself standing in the doorway.
“Speak of the devil,” Tori snickers as the rest of the girls slowly disperse and smugly resume doing their makeup. Owen makes a face in reaction to her comment but chooses not to pry.
“Could I borrow some hairspray? This one piece of hair won’t stay.” Despite each of the girls having a full can of hairspray on hand, nobody makes a move to give him the product, indicating that I should be the one to help him out. Rolling my eyes at the look Ella is giving me through the mirror, I stand from my chair and hand Owen the can of hairspray. He then looks straight ahead and moves to use the product but I stop him before he can.
“What’s your plan?”
“What?”
“Are you just gonna spray the piece?”
“...yeah?”
“That’s not gonna work since the rest of your hair already has product in it. Can I help you?” Owen nods amiably and takes a seat after I gesture for him to sit in my chair. I then realize my mistake as I need the comb on the grey countertop, and have to consequently reach past Owen in a way that wouldn’t be so compromising had I not worn such a low-cut top. Thankfully it’s over as fast as it began, and walking to the sink in the corner of the dressing room, I run the cool water over the bristles. It isn’t until I turn off the tap that I notice how eerily quiet the room had gotten. None of the girls are talking, attentively studying my every move as I cross back to Owen.
“Is this Chicago?”
“Uh, yeah, We’re listening to my musical theatre playlist though, not the whole soundtrack,” I respond in spite of the nervous laugh that falls from my lips. The slight slouch in Owen’s posture doesn’t help me to see what I’m doing clearly enough. Using my index finger and an upturned palm, I tilt his chin up to get a better look at his hair, willfully ignoring the fact that he’s staring at me right now.
Still, silence fills the room as I take the wet comb through the front section of his hair where the stubborn strand won’t stay put. Once the water binds the pieces together, I grab my can of hairspray and struggle to uncap it. The outside is slick from god knows what, but thankfully Owen doesn’t let me struggle anymore and holds up his hands to wordlessly offer his help. I hand him the can, and he pops the top off after barely struggling. Handing the can back to me, he holds onto the lid, and the entire exchange remains completely silent.
I have to work quickly in my next step, but it’s not enough to distract from the fact that everyone in the room is watching me intently. Holding the aerosol can away from the crowd of people, I put some of the product on the comb and quickly work it into Owen’s hair while it’s still wet. Once the comb has formed his hair to my liking, I stop brushing it through in fear of the now dry hairspray ruining the shape. Then, I use my left hand to shield Owen’s eyes from getting any product in them before spraying the offending area to seal in my hard work.
The sound of a cell door sliding closed signifies the end of the song, and I wait for a second, eagerly anticipating the next song to play. Upon hearing the staccato piano notes of “Bad Idea” from Waitress, a smile appears on my face.
“I love this song.” Lunging back on my right leg, I create a little distance between us to make sure I didn’t completely butcher the rest of his hair, singing as I do.
“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”
“I know, I totally agree.” Pleasantly surprised by his joining in, my smile grows bigger.
“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”
“I’ve never known anything so true-”
“It’s a terrible idea, me and you.” The effortlessness that the two of us find in harmonizing is a genuine shock and an absolute thrill all at once. Once Owen sees how excited I am by his joining in me, it’s like a switch had been flipped; the two of us immediately slip into Actor Mode and begin to sing the song as if we were performing it on a Broadway stage.
“You have a wife.” I take a small step back out of the character’s hesitation.
“You have a husband.” Owen mirrors my action.
“You’re my doctor-” I cross my arms across my chest, but release my right hand to gesture to Owen standing in front of me.
“You’ve got a baby coming-” He uses both hands to gesture back to me in my ‘pregnant’ state.
“It’s a bad idea, me and you,” the two of us turn slightly away from facing one another in false bashfulness. When the music picks up, the two of us avidly step toward one another to come together. In perfect synchronization, I grab Owen’s forearms and his hands face upwards to hold onto my elbows.
“Let’s just keep kissing ‘til we come to.”
“Heart, stop racing, let’s face it-” Owen pivots his step out to the side to face forward, extending his right arm which cues me to turn into him and take his other hand to spin out.
“Making mistakes like this will make worse what is already pretty bad.” Then he extends his right arm forward, and I turn into him once again.
“Mind, stop running. It’s time we just let this thing go.” Instead of spinning out again, I stop in front of him where he wraps both of his arms around me.
“It was a pretty good bad idea,” in our harmony I cast my gaze upward to see Owen staring right back down at me, and I feel like I’m seeing stars, “Wasn’t it though?”
The two of us continue dancing and singing with one another as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s only the two of us, here and now. The other girls in the room don’t miss the way I seem to smile like never before, and I sure as hell don’t miss the way my stomach fills with butterflies. When he holds me so close and dear for each intimate moment of the song, I’m seeing stars. A bold happiness consumes me, the same happiness I felt when Owen and I laughed over lunch in that small pizzeria.
The final harmony draws the song to a close and when it finishes, the two of us fall into a breathless kind of laughter.
“I didn’t take a big enough breath for that last part.”
“Me neither.”
“Your hair stayed intact.”
“I must have a pretty good stylist.”
After recovering from our laughter the two of us wind up in a palpable stupor as we stare into one another’s eyes. A few blinks and my trance is broken, I become aware of our surroundings.
“I should get dressed soon, and you definitely need to get dressed.” Owen nods still somewhat breathless.
“Yeah. See you later for pulse?”
“Save me a spot,” I joke as he backs out of the threshold of our dressing room. Leaning against the doorframe I watch him disappear into his assigned dressing room with a small smile still lingering on my features.
“Just getting to know each other my ass!”
“What the heck was that?”
“Are you sure you don’t want us to wingman you?”
“Do you even need a wingman after something like that?”
Turning on my heel, I face the bunch of insatiable dancers and shake my head in disbelief.
“We were just acting, you guys.”
“Liar.”
“Excuse me?”
“Maybe you were acting, but he sure as hell wasn’t. Did you see the way he was looking at you? He is totally in love with you.” Ella shakes me by my shoulders.
“He’s just a really good performer is all.”
“When is your next date?” she completely ignores me.
“Okay-”
“Oh, and I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding-”
“It was just a song, Ella.”
“-Oh my god you guys are gonna have the cutest kids! I mean, your hair with his eyes and cheekbones? Ahh! The cutest.”
***
A/n: the way that being on tour isn’t the most unrealistic part of this fic, but instead Owen actually knowing the lyrics is? Work diva.
Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayenneferburnham @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner
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All That Was Fair
Chapter 28: The Precipice
Summary: The bliss of blind optimism begins to dissipate
Read on AO3
Read chapter 28 on tumblr below the cut
Previous, master list, next
Jamie awoke the next morning to find Claire curled up against his back, one of her legs thrown over his and her arm draped across his chest. A content smile sleepily formed on his face as he came to the realization that he was the little spoon. As much as he didn’t want to disturb her— and he very much enjoyed this cuddling position and would have to keep it in mind for later— he thought she needed a little extra care this morning.
Turning over with the utmost delicacy, Jamie tried to keep her limbs in position over him while he shifted to face her. Once he was face to face with his faerie, he could watch her expression as she slept.
“Mo calman geal,” he breathed in barely a whisper. My white dove.
She was so beautiful lying beside him, the early morning sunlight illuminating her alabaster skin. Her lashes were dark against her cheeks, and the curls of her hair twined around her face with abandon. He wanted to wake up every morning to the sight of his love like this.
Leaning forward, he brushed his lips gently in the spot between her brows that was smooth with sleep. Moving along, he hovered his lips over her cheek before pressing the barest hint of a kiss along the cheekbone.
She awoke slowly as he kissed her other cheek, murmuring something unintelligible and squeezing her eyes shut tighter against wakefulness.
“Good morning, mo chridhe,” he whispered as he ended his exploration of her face with a quick peck on the lips.
“Jamie?” she dazedly murmured.
Her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders as her eyes fluttered open.
“Hi, a leannan,” he said warmly.
She pulled him closer and then rolled them slightly so Jamie was lying back and she could rest her head on his shoulder.
“How are ye feelin’ this mornin’?” he asked.
“Tired,” she replied, her voice hushed.
“Tired? Ye’ve only just woken up. Could ye no’ sleep last night?”
“I did. I’m just… tired,” she responded. The fatigue was apparent. She seemed muted somehow, speaking as though her head was underwater.
This sent Jamie’s heart beating faster, and he lifted up his head so he could look down at her, studying every inch he could see. But to his knowledge, nothing seemed wrong with her physically, other than the fact that the sweet calm of sleep was dissipating, leaving her with a pallor and listlessness that made Jamie’s stomach knot.
“And ye dinna ken why? Maybe ye’re sick?” he asked anxiously, “maybe ye’ve caught something?”
He repositioned them, shifting so that Claire moved back to the pillow and he could brace up on his elbow above her. He placed a hand on her forehead, his thumb brushing over her brow, but found it cool. “Can ye tell?”
Jamie held his breath, daring to hope that maybe she could simply heal herself as she’d healed him. Could faeries even do that?
Shaking her head against his head, she seemed sad. “I can’t tell,” she answered softly, but couldn’t provide any more explanation, “I can’t feel anything.”
“Maybe ye should go back to sleep, a leannan?” Jamie suggested, his anxiety mounting. He brought his hand up to brush his fingers down the side of her face.
She gave another shake of the head, interrupting his motions. “I don’t want to. Can I just sit with you for a while?”
His heart broke a little at her tentative question.
“Of course ye can, my sweet one,” his voice caught a little on the endearment, “but why dinna ye jes’ stay in bed while I feed Adso and myself? I have time, I’ll be back before ye know it.”
“I want to stay with you,” she insisted, the clinginess obvious in her voice. But instead of its usual feisty quality— the way she adhered to him with passion, as if every touch lit the fire inside of her— she seemed limp. As if the most she could do to keep herself by his side was ask.
Jamie’s brow furrowed. He was really starting to get concerned about her. Studying her pale face, he traced a fingertip across her cheekbone.
“We’ll stay then, a leannan,” he opted not to bring up his worries any further. Not when she was like this.
Despite the words that had just left his lips, there was a lump in his throat and a tugging on his mind that he couldn’t ignore. They could only stay for so long… Jamie was supposed to go into work. To leave Claire by herself. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only 6 am, and he let out a sigh. There was still plenty of time to take care of her before he had to leave.
For the umpteenth time, he wished he could simply up and quit his job. Everything in his life paled in comparison to the consumingness of her. But he knew that this trouble would pass soon enough, and it wouldn’t be right to abandon his passion and livelihood simply because he wanted to spend every waking second with his lass.
Claire was staring at him, her head tilted against the pillow as she watched this struggle play out on his face. There seemed a moment where her features darkened and her eyes fell.
“I forgot about work,” she murmured, having correctly intuited exactly what was going on in his brain. Disappointment cast a veil over her normally open face.
“I have time, a leannan. I always have time for you.”
Jamie started to reach out, meaning to bring her into his arms again, but she shook her head.
“Go on. You need food, and time to get dressed. Let’s go,” she said.
Whether she was fighting it or not, Jamie would slow down. He shifted himself closer to her on the bed, cupping her face with one hand and sliding his other over her hip. He caressed up and down in long strokes, intentionally slow.
“Ye’re the only thing on my mind right now, mo Sorcha.
The look on her face made his stomach twist. Her eyes were downcast, not meeting his, and there was tension in the muscles of her cheeks, as if she was trying to hold a mask in place. She was quiet, and the only reply to his words was a shaky exhale.
Jamie drew up so he hovered over her. Tilting her face up, he brought his lips to ghost a kiss over those beautiful pink lips.
Even that didn’t seem to break the somber mood that trapped his love. Jamie felt excessively guilty as he stayed rooted in that position, staring into her eyes and cradling her face with both hands. He wished he could tell her he would take off again, that they could take a sick day together, and that he could hold her until she felt normal again, but he couldn’t say any of those things.
“It’s okay, Jamie,” Claire murmured, turning those fatigued eyes on him full force, “let’s go downstairs.”
*
While Jamie made breakfast, Claire wandered over to the kitchen table. He glanced over every few seconds to check on her, but she was so quiet. His concern amped up several notches when he looked over at one point to find she had laid her head in her arms where they rested on the table. Her eyes were closed and her breathing slow.
Something was definitely wrong.
Jamie turned off the stove and abandoned his parritch. He walked over to her and gently ran his hand over the back of her head, trying to shove down the worry that nearly made his hand tremble.
Her response was to simply turn her head a bit on her arms, indicating she felt him, but she didn’t say a word.
“Sassenach—” he started to say, but she lifted her head.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“I dinna want to leave ye.”
She did raise her head then, turning big honey eyes up toward him. Her lips caught the heel of his hand in a kiss before she spoke.
“You have to go, Jamie. It’ll be good. I’ll go back to sleep, and I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself when you get home.”
Jamie felt like a toddler about to have a tantrum. He was tired of this conflict every damn day! He hated going into work and leaving her here, but he hated leaving his company when he knew very well they needed him. He felt like he was being torn in different directions and that one day he would simply snap.
Taking a deep breath, he shoved down that line of thinking. It wouldn’t do Claire any good to have him strung out over work. While she was sick, he would simply have to keep it together and make one decision at a time. And today, whether he liked it or not, the decision was clear.
“Okay, Sassenach. But that doesna mean that I willna give ye my full attention now while I’m here.”
She smiled a little at this, lifting her head enough to fix him with that whisky gaze. “Does that mean you’ll have your breakfast on the couch?”
Jamie rolled his eyes but felt his muscles ease at the relief of seeing that glimpse of her usual self.
Recently, she’d begun to rebel against the kitchen table. The kitchen chairs were no good— she would complain. No good for snuggling, she meant. Even when she scooted hers as close as possible to Jamie’s, that was apparently not close enough for her. She’d begun a campaign against the table then, trying to get him to sit on the couch for meals where she could burrow into his side. Finding her incredibly distracting and a bit disconcerting to have a faerie trying to apparently jump into his skin while he attempted to have a meal, Jamie had stood firm on his policy. Meals were taken at the table.
Only now, seeing that tiny spark in her eyes at mention of breakfast on the couch, Jamie never stood a chance.
“You win, a leannan. Jes’ this once, I’ll have my parritch wi’ ye in the living room. Come on, then, lass.”
And so he found himself on the couch, bowl held out in front of him and Claire glued to his side. It didn’t take long for her head to meet his shoulder and her hands to wrap around his bicep in a sort of half-hug.
His heart skipped a few beats as she clung to him.
“Yer hands are cold, a leannan,” he noticed.
She murmured an uncertain hmmm? but didn’t say anything more. Jamie decided to drop it. Clearly she was under the weather, no denying it, but he hoped that an actual day of rest would do her well. He simply swallowed down his parritch and tried not to think too much about what he couldn’t control. Claire was silent nearly the whole time, just breathing deeply against his side.
When it came time for him to run out the door, he was ready to cry and stamp his feet at the unfairness of adult life. He tugged his bag over his shoulder with more force than necessary, and had to resist tearing it off again as he returned to Claire where she lay on the couch.
“If I have a second free I’ll run back to check on ye, alright, mo ghraidh?” he said after getting her tucked underneath a warmth blanket, an edge of urgency on his voice. The blanket was a poor substitute for his body, but he didn’t want to leave her with nothing. At least he could wrap his tartan around her, imagining his protection enveloped her.
“Don’t worry, Jamie. I’ll see you when you get home,” Claire said, already settling down on the throw pillow with her eyes falling closed.
It eased him considerably to see her already burrowing in for a nap, and he muttered a quick prayer over her in Gaelic before giving her one last kiss to the forehead.
“I love you more than anythin’, mo chridhe. Be well,” he said in farewell.
“I love you,” she echoed, her voice already laced with the slur of sleep.
***
Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser was no babysitter.
Sure, he’d spent nearly all his free time with Ellen’s bairns, but that was different. He was a hard man, used to solitude, and he most certainly did not take care of people.
Only when Jamie Fraser had called him from work, his voice dripping with anxious concern, pleading with him to go check in on his lass to see if she was alright, Murtagh had somehow lost his mind and relented. Maybe it was something about Jamie’s story— how Claire was feelin’ ill but he’d forgotten to leave a cellphone with her so she could call if she needed something— or maybe it was just the obvious worry in his godson’s voice, but something had made Murtagh give in. He hated letting down the lad more than anything, so he had decided that he could manage a little look-in that was most certainly not anything more than that.
A short time later, he found himself unlocking Jamie’s house with his spare key and yelling a greeting as he stepped inside.
“Claire? Lass? Jamie asked me tae check in on ye. Are ye alright?” he called.
But he heard no answer. Figuring she was upstairs in the bedroom having a nap, Murtagh made his way upstairs, only to find all the rooms empty.
“Lass?” he called again, “are ye here?”
He worried for a minute that she’d left, made a run for it while Jamie was at work so she could avoid saying goodbye, but then he remembered the way the lass had looked at Jamie, spoke about him, and he knew in his wame that there was no way the lass had up and left.
He checked the basement before making another round through the house, only to find no trace of the wee lassie.
There was one last place to look, even though only someone out of their damn mind would go outside on a dreich day such as this one.
He slid open the back door reluctantly, squinting out into the back garden. His eyes swept lazily across it, not expecting to find anything, but then his gaze landed on the shape of a figure laying on the ground in front of the wee patch of dirt that was a sorry excuse for a garden.
Adrenaline flooded Murtagh’s veins, and he ran outside, cursing under his breath.
By the time he got to her, dropping to his knees beside her, she was struggling to sit up, pushing up on her hands and shaking her head, looking disoriented.
“Have ye lost yer mind, lass?” Murtagh burst out, reaching to help her sit up.
She didn’t answer, just pressed her dirty hands against her face and swayed slightly.
Taking in the sight of her, Murtagh realized Jamie had been right to call him. The lass certainly was ill. Her face was pale and drawn, and she looked damn near ready to keel over again. Her hand shook where it was lifted to her face, and she was blinking hard.
“Come on, now,” Murtagh said, much more gently this time.
She still didn’t say anything, but she didn’t protest either when he took her arms and laid it across his shoulders so he could lift her to her feet with a quiet “up ye get.”
Her breath hitched the moment they were upright, and she sagged heavily against him, barely supporting her own weight. Like a sack of grain against him, the puir lass couldn’t even manage to hold on.
“Ye’re alright,” Murtagh found himself saying to her as she struggled to stay upright, “let’s get ye inside.”
Slowly, they made their way inside, Murtagh taking the majority of her weight and offering encouragements he didn’t know he had in him. She didn’t say a word, white lips pressed tightly together as her feet dragged.
Once they had finally made it inside, Murtagh deposited her on the couch before grabbing a blanket and tucking it around her.
“There ye go, that’ll be more comfortable than the dirt outside, I’d expect,” Murtagh said.
By this time, he was used to the lass not saying a word. He thought maybe she was one who simply shut down when she wasn’t feeling well. Besides, she seemed like she was barely conscious, let alone coherent enough to have a conversation. So he was surprised when she murmured out a weak, “thank you.”
“Ye’re welcome, lass,” Murtagh said, trying to sound gruff and uncaring, but the words came out gentle as her tone struck some chord inside him, “get some sleep now. Ye’ll feel better wi’ some rest.”
He must have been losing his edge if one sick lassie could turn him into a mother hen.
“Jamie?” she asked, her voice muffled by the blanket which she was pulling up toward her face.
“He’ll be back when ye wake,” Murtagh promised.
She closed her eyes then, seeming content with that answer, and Murtagh left her to head into the kitchen where he could call Jamie privately.
The poor lad was rocked by his report, sounding over the phone like someone had punched him in the stomach, and he’d promised to be home right away. He must have broken every traffic law because it took him only 20 minutes to get home from the city.
Jamie burst in through the front door, disheveled and wild with worry, and Murtagh found himself rushing over and shushing him so he didn’t wake the lass where she slept on the couch.
His godson had quieted immediately, and before Murtagh could give him the story, Jamie was pushing past him into the living room.
Murtagh watched as the lad caught sight of Claire, his eyes filling with soft worry. His entire demeanor changed from wired to gentle as Jamie knelt down beside the couch, brushing curls away from the lass’ forehead so he could press a kiss there.
Her eyes fluttered open at the touch. It seemed to take her a second to orient herself, but the second she realized who was with her, her whole face melted.
“Jamie,” she breathed out.
“I’m here now, mo ghraidh, dinna fash,” he said, more gentle than Murtagh had ever seen him, “go back to sleep. I’m here.”
“Will you stay with me?” she asked.
Murtagh felt like he was intruding on a private moment, but he couldn't seem to look away as Jamie pressed another kiss to her brow. “In jes’ a minute, lass. Hold on, jes’ a moment.” He kissed her again, as if he couldn’t bear the words coming from his mouth. “I promise I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, barely moving her head, and then closed her eyes again. Looking like the weight of the world was on his back, Jamie stood and turned toward Murtagh, gesturing toward the kitchen with a tilt of his head.
“So you found her in the garden?” Jamie asked once they were both seated at the table.
“Aye. She looked like she’d collapsed out there. Something’s wrong wi’ the lass, Jamie.”
Jamie looked sad, his blue eyes— so like Ellen’s— were unfocused. His mind was clearly in the living room. Shaking his head, he admitted, “I ken. I’m scared for her.”
“Take her to a doctor, lad,” Murtagh told him, “she needs help.”
For some reason, this seemed to pain Jamie all the more. He looked down, fiddling with his fingers. Something was going on in that brain of his, but Murtagh had no idea what it was.
“Dinna fash, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Murtagh told him, “take some more time off, see her well, and call me if ye need anythin.”
“Thanks, Murtagh,” Jamie said, nodding as if to convince himself of the validity of Murtagh’s assurances.
“Dinna think on it,” he dismissed, “Now, go back tae yer lass.”
***
When Jamie closed the door behind Murtagh, he had to take a second to lean his back against it, pushing all the air from his lungs in a long breath. He felt like his head was whirling, his body thrumming as he came down from the adrenaline. The drive home had been a mad dash, and Jamie didn’t even remember half of it. Now, the quiet stillness of the house seemed stifling.
He wouldn’t think about Claire’s suffering. He wouldn’t think about her laying outside the garden all by herself.. He wouldn’t think about her perfect skin marred by dirt as she tried and failed to push herself up… he wouldn’t—
The punishing flood of mental pictures burned in his brain and twisted his stomach in guilty turmoil.
He was a fool. He was a damned fool for leaving her. He’d known she wasn’t well this morning, and he’d known she was far too stubborn to take care of herself and simply sleep, but he’d left her anyway.
As he returned to Claire’s side to find her fast asleep, he was torn between cursing her for her foolishness in going outside and cursing himself for deciding to leave her.
“I’m here, mo nighean donn,” he whispered to her as he pressed a long kiss to her temple, lips lingering as if his touch could erase the mistakes of the day.
Part of him wished that she was awake, if only to comfort him that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. But she was finally resting, and if his kiss didn’t wake her, he wouldn’t disrupt her sleep.
Deciding she would be better off in bed, Jamie slid his hands underneath her and gathered her in. He carried her upstairs, taking careful steps with his most precious cargo before settling her again in bed. She barely stirred— hardly reacted at all to the change in location. Her eyes remained shut and her face still.
“Rest now, mo ghraidh,” Jamie murmured over her.
He allowed himself one caress over her brow and one kiss to the top of her curls. And then he left her to her sleep.
The second he sat down at the desk in his study, he felt himself deflate like a balloon. He buried his face in his hands and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
The only sound filling the room was the clock ticking on the wall.
***
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Kae kae! I wanna hear about your thoughts: what is your headcanon for what happened during that night between Kaeya and Diluc? So many people have different thoughts About what happened and I want to hear yours!
hi hi hello dear!!! oof okay okay well for me i do a lot of speculating based on fic and like. i'll write different things depending on what i want to do with a story, BUT here are my thoughts on what may have happened in canon:
first, the basics/what we know based on character stories - kaeya's vision story (x) is long as hell but worth a refresher read, cause it talks about kaeya's internal struggle between his duty to khaenri'ah and his loyalty to diluc and crepus, and how crepus' death upset the balance. while it doesn't explicitly state a resolution to his struggle, it does go on to talk about how guilt consumed him over the fact that he didn't share in crepus' final moments nor in diluc's grieving - he'd instead stayed back, reminded of 'that ancient plot' (which i think we can safely assume to mean his supposed purpose in mondstadt, in service of khaenri'ah)
the vision story goes into the bare bones version of what happened that night - kaeya admitted the truth of who he was, he expected diluc's anger, diluc and kaeya crossed blades only for a rush of elemental power to overcome kaeya as he received his vision
what i find particularly interesting here is this line about kaeya receiving his vision: "But now, for the first time ever, he was facing his brother as his true self."
vision lore speculation incoming, because i think that it helps us better understand kaeya's situation
we've since learned (thanks inazuma) that a vision responds to (and is inextricably tied to) a person's ambition - i know i've talked before about theories with regards to why certain people receive certain elements, since i believe (someone correct me if i'm wrong) we know now for certain that visions are handed out by the archon of that element
i've speculated in the past that the motivator for a cryo vision was the fear of losing someone or something dear to them (this works well for a few chars: kaeya - diluc, diona - her father, qiqi - her life) but starts to get a little forced if it's applied to other cryo chars
but with a bigger pool of chars and a canon explanation for why one might receive a cryo vision, i think my revised assessment works better: the ambition that a cryo vision responds to is a relinquishing of a past self in pursuit of one's true self. or, perhaps a less optimistic take, the relinquishing of a fantasy life for a more complex but truer one
ganyu, setting aside her life as solely qilin and accepting both halves of herself when she took up her position among the liyue qixing. rosaria, choosing to fight for her life against those who would use and control her. eula, setting down her learned grievances in pursuit of a life and a 'vengeance' that felt right to her. chongyun's persistent desire to become a true exorcist. ayaka's acceptance of her leadership role and diligence in her study of skills (that did not come naturally to her) in order to represent her clan. diona's eschewing of her childish desire for her father to be the man she wanted him to be in favor of attempting to accept her father for who he is (she offers to mix him a drink once she knows that he's safe). for qiqi i think it could easily be taken in a literal sense - her past life ended, a new, more complicated one began
for kaeya, his vision story says it all: he gave up his idyllic life of a pretty lie in favor of being honest with diluc in who he truly is, even though that only makes his life more complicated. as was stated in his story, he feels "he must live the rest of his life under the heavy burden of lies"
[unrelated kaeya aside: in his story 2, it says "On the contrary, he actually enjoys putting people into the difficult position of making tough decisions." perhaps you're projecting a bit there, hm kaeya?]
ANYWAY all of this was basically to say that i think kaeya admitted the truth of who he was and why he was in mond, and 'expected diluc's anger' because he'd kept it secret this the whole time. had lived a whole life growing up with diluc and chose to stay silent. and diluc just lost his father for fuck's sake lmao so he's definitely emotionally overwhelmed
bc in kaeya's character story 5, he and diluc are described as "knowing each other's thoughts and intentions without a word", which says to me that they...basically told each other everything? knew each other too well, but kaeya had still chosen to hide this from diluc. of course diluc would feel betrayed, and of course kaeya would expect him to - he knows him well, after all
but he saw this fight as his punishment, or perhaps losing diluc as his punishment, or (if you want to be especially grim about it) maybe even losing his own life as a punishment for his secrecy - ultimately, though, i can't quite bring myself to believe that diluc cares necessarily about kaeya's actual ancestry (or like...even his supposed duty to khaenri'ah), more just...that he hid this from diluc
and i think that kaeya receiving his cryo vision, the perfect combatant to diluc's fire (well, sort of lmao) wasn't necessarily what stopped their fight - i think it gave diluc the chance to step back and breathe and see kaeya for a moment, outside of his own anger and hurt, and recognize that he didn't want to fight. he just didn't want to like. process his emotions either lmao (diluc bb u have some issues)
and so kaeya left, burdened with this vision (he describes it as the 'stern reminder' that he must live a life of lies), and he and diluc never really...figured their shit out. diluc ran away, kaeya learned to live without him
and kaeya, to me, seems to have developed that mindset of like...'diluc is exactly as he was that night and has not changed'. ie he seems to act as though diluc is still secretly angry with him, in spite of the evidence that shows that...well, he's probably still not processing those emotions BUT it does show that he cares still, somewhere in there (in his vision story, it says "He did not discuss the past. But he did not deny his past, either." and i wonder if he has his ways of showing that he did care, and probably still does - like the vase, like his continued choice to remain in kaeya's presence when there seems to be no need in the 'a child's secret' quest)
askldfjklsdfj i hope this wasn't too excruciating to get through, i know i rambled quite a lot on some tangentially related theories but ty for the ask dear!!!
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Mad Passion | 2
Pairing: namjoon x reader
Genre: arranged marriage au, smut, angst, fluff
Word count: 14k
Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, graphic sexual content, unprotected sex
Summary: As you become emotionally invested with your marriage, you have grown accustomed to being Namjoon’s wife. Not until you realize you barely have an idea what it is really like to be his wife.
*unedited
Part I | sequel
The midnight moon illuminates vibrantly on the clear, dark blue-ish sky— a clear view from the sky high cocktail bar and lounge, of which is about to approach its peak hours, serving exclusively to the hotel guests.
The four and a half thousand square foot space is indeed a perfect place to unwind minus the bustling crowd and unnecessary loud music. Among the tables neatly scattered in the open air terrace, the two men occupied the miniscule pavilion situated on the right corner of the sky high rooftop, the farthest possible spot from the little crowd growing as the night progresses.
Seokjin and Namjoon are currently on a business trip. Namjoon rarely joins him on his international-scale meetings one as he isn’t an expert of the global market of fisheries like Jin himself. This time, however, it was Namjoon who initiated the trip to meet a good number of businessmen to secure a majority vote on the retail corporation he had invested in several months ago. He was new to this particular field, which was why Jin was here with him.
Jin was with him all through the course of said meetings. As Namjoon’s schedule abroad concluded today, it was safe to say the result of these meetings posed a good sign. Namjoon will soon take over another company. Of course, Jin wouldn’t let the night pass without them celebrating. He could’ve invited the rest of the group if they came along on the trip. So it was only the two of them who are celebrating, as Jin insists to call it.
Namjoon could have turned it down, and calling his wife appeals to him more, but he really needs a proper drink even if Jin under the influence of alcohol means having to endure his annoying ass for an hour or two.
“Your wife doesn’t have any idea on all of this, does she?” Jin nonchalantly asks, the alcohol cleansing his palate refreshingly from the numerous glasses he had. They had been in the pavilion for over an hour or two, he’s not certain.
Namjoon gave him a stern look, almost feigning innocence on the question his friend suddenly threw at him. “Know what?” There it was, the annoying side of Jin.
Jin smirks, shaking his head. He could read his friend like the back of his hand. Amongst the group, he knows Namjoon the longest. Even with the passive expression he always wears, Jin could easily see through him.
“She doesn’t know? You’re screwed, Kim.”
By now, both have already had a decent amount of alcohol in their system. The younger one, however, doesn’t appear as fuzzy as the older one.
“She doesn’t need to know about my business affiliations. It would not matter what she would think of it.” He remarks, before emptying the liquor in his glass.
His reply only made Jin snorted. “I bet you don’t.” He muses before continuing, “No doubt, it would be a pleasure to meet the woman who stole your heart. Hoseok told me a lot of things about you and her. I’d like to confirm it myself. After all, it’s been months since you secretly changed your marital status.”
Also, he ought to know why Namjoon seems to talk too little about his wife, as if he was avoiding the subject itself.
Namjoon’s eyebrow shots up. “Confirm what, exactly?”
“How smitten you are to the woman.”
Namjoon leans his back on the couch, “Shut it, Hyung.” He shrugs, eliciting too little expression that only fuels Jin’s amusement further.
Crossing his leg to the other, he continues to nag his friend. “I thought I’d never see the day, my friend. Have I not mentioned how surprised we were learning about your marriage in a newspaper?”
“You did, you couldn’t seem to move on from it, can you?”
“How can I? You didn’t even us at your wedding!”
“I already told you why.”
“Well, you have to give the girl a proper wedding. That is… if you already bear feelings for her.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“Did you ask her? Girls like those romantic shit.” Jin concludes, his own experience being his reference.
“The marriage is a part of the deal, Hyung.” He says in an indifferent tone, a pretense he had mastered through the years of his experience in the industry. Jin already knew the story behind his marriage, but the rare chance of pissing his friend off tempts him as always.
“If you don’t love the girl, you can easily get a divorce once you have secured the position. With the influence you have over the Korean government, there’s no way you can’t be granted a simple request.” Jin continues to press, enjoying the look of irritation growing on Namjoon’s face. Namjoon chose to keep quiet, distracting himself with pouring alcohol in his glass.
“What do you think the princess would feel if her castle has already been claimed by her King long before her father steps down on his throne?” Jin queries in a teasing manner.
“You forgot to mention she had long abandoned her throne. She already lost the title when she left.” Namjoon was quick to answer back.
Jin smirks, “Touché.”
Namjoon purses his lips, letting the air be filled with silence. At the mere mention of the lost princess that is his wife, his mind wanders off.
It’s been almost a week since he last saw his wife. He misses her that no amount of alcohol could suffice. Although he consistently calls you every day, it was not enough to make peace with his mind. How should he converse with you to prolong the conversation? He loves hearing you talk endlessly, regardless of what it is about. The conversations feel restricted. Whether it was because of his intimidating self or you’re merely not interested to talk to him—he has yet to know why.
What is certain, though, is he will finally come home tomorrow.
Mingyu quietly turns the ignition on the moment you climb inside the passenger’s side. Silence has awkwardly ruled between the two of you since two weeks ago especially when you don’t initiate a conversation, yourself. His actions are always calculated alongside the formality in his voice whenever you attempt to have a casual conversation with him.
And you figured, he might have been instructed not to entertain your friendly gestures, much less converse with you.
You find his awkward but formal disposition adorably hilarious, which sometimes make you laugh out loud, that in return, earns you questioning look from him.
Since his post as personal security detail two weeks ago, Mingyu always lingers on your whereabouts. The role he plays is obviously a college student, casually eating on a table far away from your usual spot, or pretending to read books in the library when you’re studying so he could unnoticeably guard you around. The pretense alone is a dangerous task, you presume, because he is an eye catcher and he has to stay low-profile not to gets busted.
You don’t even know how they can roam around the vicinity of the campus without alerting the security department. When you say ‘they’, you’re generally referring to the team of agents responsible for your well-being.
After the incident involving your friend and one of them weeks ago, they have visually disappeared. But you were not that dense to believe they’re literally gone. For all you care, they are just scattered everywhere, pretending to be whoever they are. Namjoon is too smart to have the same men follow you around. If he intentionally wants to make you think he has removed an entire team in your care, he would strategically have new faces to do the job. As if Mingyu’s presence will make you believe that he’s the only person that guards you.
Until now, you couldn’t believe your husband selected Mingyu as your shadow amongst the couple of hundreds working under his security agency. Knowing he’s territorial when it comes to the male acquaintances you have, it makes you there’s an underlying reason for it. Perhaps, is it trap to test your loyalty? But the probability of it being true is too low, because why would your loyalty matter to him in the first place?
When Namjoon married you several months ago, not only has your life changed, but your feelings too. You used to dislike the thought of being forced into a marriage with him, with someone you barely know, with someone who has so many similarities with your father.
It wasn’t just a simple attraction that you have developed towards him, nor was the socio-economic status he has. There is not even extraordinarily admirable about his personality that could justify your feelings—that unavoidably blossomed through time.
He was not the typical guy, of course. Men his age are probably enjoying the time of their lives, partying and all that stuff or perhaps, struggling to even get a decent job that would financially support themselves.
He was not the romantic type of guy. Sweet talks, knows how to make you feel giddy, charms his way to your heart— he is far from that.
Strange, how he still unknowingly earns more brownie points the longer you live with him, despite the uncertainty.
The awkward tension between you two have improved after months of having formal and painfully monotonous interactions. Perhaps, the rare intimacy has helped you open up to him more casually.
Despite that, you couldn’t rest your mind with the fact that your relationship with him lacks emotional commitment.
While he has the money and power at such a young age, you have nothing but student loans and your father’s last name. While he sees to your every need, it was never really established what you two are aside from the arrangement of your marriage. Unfortunately, it was just that. There may be papers which legally conclude your matrimony as husband and wife, but there’s no certainty of mutual, requited feelings.
Every single day that comes and goes around, you couldn’t stop yourself from wishing that the marriage had been alternatively a result of a conventional, romantic affair. Part of you wishes he could, at least, learn to reciprocate your feelings for him.
He asked you on a date before, the first and only one so far. It turned out as expected— a little awkward because he basically rented the restaurant leaving you two alone in the spacious, luxurious place which meant having to endure silence while he enjoys his food as you try to think of things that you could talk to him about. It was, nevertheless, sweet because you have not predicted he would be thoughtful enough to know the food that you like, having it served as the main course.
Since the date, Namjoon never really spoke about it or anything that may hint another one. You’re ashamed to even admit that you’re eager to know what he feels for you, now.
Has it changed?
~
It didn't take long before you arrive at the apartment.
Without waiting for your guard, you went straight to the bedroom, the same one you share with him. Despite his absence for six days, the scent of his signature perfume still lingers in the vicinity.
Heaving a sigh, you huff on the mattress, allowing your muscles to relax, and allow your mind to wander into nothingness.
Earlier, you magically crammed mind-draining essays due today as well as made progress on your provisions for your upcoming midterms. The mere thought of it all makes you want to take a nap before proceeding with your papers, again.
After a moment of silence, you decided to have a long, warm bath instead. It’s been ages since the last time you had one since you have a waiting husband in mind whenever you’re using the bathroom even though he has several spares in his penthouse.
You did just that. And about half an hour, the comforting and relaxing warmth seeping through every part of your body, and the peppermint scented diffuser further lets your mind float elsewhere. Before you know it, you have lurked farther into the depth of your endless thoughts, slowly leading you where darkness and dreamland meet.
You woke startled by an endless sound of a familiar tone ringing. And as your eyes strained by the blinding light, you mindlessly search for the source. You couldn’t seem to find where it was coming from, although you know it was your phone. The mere sound of it tells it was not in the bathroom. Where did you place it, anyway?
Still dazed with the traces of your unsolicited nap, you carefully but swiftly climb out of the tub, grabbing the towel on top of the counter to quickly dry your body. You found it on top of the bedside table. The eerie silence inside the room made the sound echo all throughout, that you feel your ears bleed as it continuously rings.
Your thumb slides on the screen after you took a brief glance at the caller.
Your abandoned, dripping hair sticks irritatingly on your nape, soaking your towel as you forget to put on a robe.
“You’re not answering my calls.” Namjoon greets, his voice unrecognizably low.
What time is it there, again? You wonder.
“Sorry, I dozed off in the tub.” You replied too quickly, words jumble in your mind as they stumble out of your mouth. Listening to the words seems wrong when you have come to understand what you said.
“You what?” He asks, sounding puzzled. A trace of concern laces in his voice more than anything, although you were too flushed to take the hint.
“Uhh... Yeah, I fell asleep. Sorry about that...” You sheepishly falter.
As you wait for his reply, you hear some shuffling instead on the other line.
Your mind still is blank as white while struggling to come up with a better reply.
“I heard that, but you fell asleep? In the tub? That’s not safe.” He probably just woke up. Perhaps, that must be why his voice is extra low, though he calls you every night and it sounded quite normal in his previous calls.
“Right, I’m fine though. It’s not like I would drown or something.” You try to joke.
The silence lingers for a few seconds, before you hear him speak on the other line. “You should have rested instead of taking a bath.” He lightly scolds over the phone.
A chuckle bubbles past your throat, nodding in agreement. That was your initial plan. “I will...eventually.”
“Busy?”
This time, you hear people talking in the background. He’s in his hotel room, right?
“Just about. I had a long day, spent most of my free time in the library. I presumed, Mingyu already told you that, right?”
At the mention of his name, you didn’t see the way Namjoon’s eyebrows rose, as something weak but ugly feeling stirs inside him. “Hanbin communicates with him.”
Your mouth fell into an ‘o’, nodding as if he could see you. “Oh, right. He’s fine, right? I mean you approved of him as my guard?”
“Yes. Why do you ask? I trust that you’ll tell me if he ever acts inappropriately and I’ll make sure—“
“No, no, he’s okay, I mean… uh, he’s actually really formal.” You stammer, slowly growing flustered at the way you have spoken about Mingyu. The subject itself doesn’t really interest you, it’s just that you don’t want him to be dragged into Namjoon’s territorial issues especially when he’s not around.
Not only is Mingyu a taller version of Namjoon’s physique, he is also as attractive as your husband, which didn’t matter to you as Namjoon pretty much owns your heart, that you didn’t choose to.
“Good. I’m also expecting you to behave while I’m gone.” He warns playfully.
You scoff, returning the playfulness of his tone. “When have I not?”
“Of course. You’re a good girl for me, yeah?” He casually prods although the impact of his words seem to have struck you somewhere.
You bit your lip, started pacing back and forth with the towel as the only cover in your body. What would he feel if you tell him that?
You decided to change the subject, “Hey, listen… uh… I heard your birthday is approaching.” You begin, recalling the conversation you had with the housekeeper. This would be your first time spending his birthday with him.
“Uhuh...” He trails, silently telling you to keep going.
“Do you have plans for it?” You nervously ask, biting your nail in agitation as you kept going around the vicinity of the room.
Being a part of the elite social class means birthdays are extravagantly celebrated. You had them when you were young. Yet, Namjoon has not mentioned to you about his birthday plans, if he has any.
“Plans?” He echoes with a curious tone.
“I mean parties and stuff.” You immediately clarified back.
“Angel, I don't celebrate birthdays.” He says in a casual tone as if he was just telling you a random piece of information.
Taken aback by his response, you repeated what he said in a form of question. “You don’t?” Namjoon has not sensed the change of tone in your voice.
“I don’t. I have to go, baby. I will call you again. Hmm?” He didn’t even wait for your reply, ending the call right away.
He doesn’t celebrate his birthday?
Namjoon, who obviously has all the resources in the world to organize the most luxurious social events, happens to have disinterests celebrating his birthday?
You mean, you have too little enthusiasm toward social gatherings but that doesn’t mean you don’t celebrate your birthday. Even when you barely have enough savings to pay for your bills, you couldn’t let your birthday pass without treating yourself or spending the day with your friends.
It sounds weird, at the same time, lonely to hear that he disregards such an occasion enough to make your heart tug painfully. He must have had a horrible childhood, you thought. Or perhaps, he’s merely not fond of any kind of celebration. It shouldn’t be a big of a deal, right?
Slight dismay washes through you at the abruptness of the call.
What is it about him being away that bothers you? Is it his safety, your safety or...his mere absence?
For the nth time since Namjoon left for his business trip, you had slept through your alarm which only meant you were late again in your first class.
The day progresses rather slowly. When it feels like you’ve spent ages sitting inside the lecture theatre, barely listening to half the professor was saying turns out to be just a couple of minutes whenever you check the time on your phone.
After what felt like a day, your break comes rolling around. Bearing the effect of sleep deprivation, your walk towards the dining hall was unusually sluggish. Fortunately, Jihyo was already on the table of your usual spot waiting when you arrived.
Your shadow has yet to make his presence known which seems odd as he always tail you far behind, at the same time, intentionally allowing you to spot him wherever he is.
With his height, you could easily see the top of his head through the crowd, only that you didn’t need to look around because he’s in front of you and Jihyo, slightly wide-eyed with Jackson on his left, the former seemingly forced to be here.
Your eyebrows narrow in confusion. Though your friends knew you’re being guarded by him, they never really showed intention to befriend him.
“What’s going on Wang? Mingyu-ssi?”
Jihyo seems amused at the mere sight, holding back her laughter as she notices the discomfort written in the poor handsome boy’s face.
Your bodyguard surprisingly fits well in his all black casual attire like as if he is sporting a bad boy college student vibe. You couldn’t even point anything suspiciously odd with the way he casually holds himself as if he has his own world, not minding others’ business.
Jackson plops on the vacant seat across Jihyo’s and drags Mingyu on the seat next to him. He obligingly follows suit.
“He seems nicer and harmless than the other ones, Y/N. Had to befriend him before he makes me his next target.”
Mingyu gazes at him with his sharp gaze that strangely reminds you of your husband’s stare.
“I can perfectly hear you.” He formally says to your friend, which presumably meant alternative to warning him.
Jackson paid no mind on the harmless threat, giving Mingyu a friendly smack on the back instead.
“I know, bud. I’m not the enemy here, is what I’m trying to tell you.” He quips, which made Jihyo chuckle in return.
Mingyu peers in your direction, then goes back to Jackson’s and Jihyo’s in utter confusion.
He probably has no idea what transpired before.
“You didn’t know?” Jackson attempts to confirm with a question.
“What?” Mingyu immediately asks back.
His act of ignorance isn’t believable enough for you. On his first day as your guard, you were stunned at how proficient he seemed to be on his pretense for someone who barely knows his way around the campus as if he’s been here before.
Shaking the thought away, you chose to butt in, “Don’t give him ideas.”
Jackson’s eyes slightly widen in realization. “You’re right. Anyways, I’m officially inviting you to eat lunch with us everyday. Is it a yes or a yes?”
Mingyu stares at him, dumbfoundedly.
“Shut up, Wang.” Jihyo laughs and then turns her head to meet Mingyu’s curious eyes. “Ignore him, but you’re always welcome to sit with us, just in case you’re allowed to— you know, eat with us.”
You only nodded in agreement.
If he ever considers it, he never showed any sign that he did as he ate silently the whole time while he listened to the three of you converse endlessly.
Like the past few days, the home feels different and strange without the towering owner lurking around the spacious vicinity like the king, himself.
Namjoon never really confirmed when he will be back. He had not brought it up again after he once mentioned that the trip would take him a week. Perhaps, longer?
It’s been a week. You don't know how long you’d manage without seeing him. His absence, as you first thought, would be a sense of breather for you for the first time since the marriage happened. But as days rolled around, you only hope for the week to end so you could see him again.
The longer you ponder over the thought of missing him, the harder it is to ignore the ache on the pit of your stomach, and desire pooling between your legs.
The temperature on your body feels strangely higher considering it’s not yet summer and the room is fully air conditioned like the rest of the apartment.
Your hair was pulled up in a bun, clothes thrown haphazardly on the cold, bathroom floor as you skimmed inside naked without bothering to close the door.
You let the shower run as you gradually get used to the feel of the water on your skin, your body shudders ever so lightly as you step under the running water, cautious enough not to get your hair soaked in the process. Shortly after, your shoulders slug as the water finally cools down your body, your insides almost relaxing.
You drew a long sigh, eyes closing, loving the therapeutic sensation of water as it soaks your body.
It wasn’t until you felt strong arms encircling your waist from behind that the heat spirals back into your body, especially in your lower region.
Their clothed body molding perfectly against your naked back as they pull your body impossibly closed. It was too sudden, and you were probably too lost in your own thoughts that you failed to hear any strange sounds, footsteps even.
A shriek of surprise went past your throat, harshly squirming in reflex. You're too shocked to process who it is until he made a hush sound, calming you down. His lips found your naked shoulder, further making himself known through his gestures.
“It’s me.” The familiar voice whispers next to your ear. Your violent movements instantly halted, but the shock still is evident through erratic beating of your heart.
“Joon?” you softly call, trying to peer behind to have a proper look on him. In a teasing manner, he kisses your other shoulder, ruining your intent while your body is kept locked on his arms.
By now, his clothes are already soaked against your back as wet as your hair as the running water continues to shower you both.
And just as his lips found your nape, his hand cups one of breasts, softly squeezing the mound, his fingers gently pinching the pink nub. Your hand mindlessly flew to the hand on your waist that is keeping your body close to his, gripping it tight enough that your knuckles are turning white.
Your eyelids fell shut at the sudden sensation, biting your lip to suppress any sound from your throat. His hand didn’t stop the gentle tormenting on your breast, his warm, sinful mouth now assaulting the skin on your neck, sucking it until the spot turns purple. The mere contact is enough to make you dizzy in need, intensely lighting your long overdue desire.
And then the sensation stops all at once, his hand gone and his nose nuzzling your now-soaked hair.
“J-Joon...” you softly beg.
He didn’t answer, yet you could hear his ragged breathing, his crotch pressing hotly on your back.
“Please,” you impatiently murmur.
“Hmm...” Hums Namjoon, feeling his lips on your temple.
“Please let me see you,” Your voice almost breaks. It’s been a week since you last saw him, his absence certainly overwhelmed you achingly.
His lack of response drives you into frustration.
Then he swiftly spins you around, his hand on your hip pushes you further until your back is pressed flat on the cold tiled wall. Palms planted on either side of your face, entrapping you.
Your mouth left agape at the sight of him.
His soaked white dress shirt, clinging to his torso like a second skin, further accentuating his lean body, his dripping wet slacks evidently showing the bulge of his arousal. Your mouth instantly waters at the sight, suddenly wanting to feel it under your touch, have your mouth and tongue taste him.
But you were too nervous to initiate a move.
He continues to torment you under his wanton gaze, as if challenging you to protest against his captive.
His eyes then roamed over the length of your body, feasting the view beneath his lashes, “Beautiful.” His fingers caught your chin, tilting it so he could look into your eyes.
His mouth draws nearer, until it lands on the wet skin of your cheek. He mumbles against your skin, “You have no idea how much I missed seeing your pretty face. Did you miss me, sweetheart?”
Your eyes closing shut, nodding. “Yes,” You manage to say, while finding the strength to rub your palms sensually on his forearms that would hopefully coax him to initiate a move. He only hums in return, to your dismay.
The running water from the shower head has stopped. Namjoon probably turned it off although it was too late as his whole body is already dripping with water.
His mouth is so close to yours, teasingly hovering over the corner of your mouth. When you ever so lightly tilt your head to the side, your lips caught his supple ones. Your delicate fingers found his cheeks, deepening the kiss.
A groan vibrates on his chest, the weeks worth of abstinence has not been too kind for him, and he would undoubtedly break you if he suddenly loses the control he’s been nurturing instead of his desire.
Your actions, however, are doing so little for your own good.
To your dismay, he was reacting too little, maintaining a minimal response. “Joon, please...” You mumble in between kisses.
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
“I-I... I want you.” You moan, your voice almost failing you from the overwhelming heat of your desire.
The burning ache on his abdomen only intensifies at the mere sound of your begging.
“You have me.” He says back in a soft voice, nuzzling your cheek while keeping a safe distance between your bodies.
When your hand dares touch his crotch, a low growl rumbles on his chest, swiftly catching your hand on his, restraining your very intention. Tears pool in your eyes in desperation. And as much as you want him to fuck you senseless right this second, the desire to taste him was too intense and stronger to just set the thought aside.
“Let me touch you... Joon, please...”
His breathes quicken, refusing to entertain your offer. But it didn’t mean his desire is not spiraling wildly, his member twitching painfully the more your pleas feed his ears. His head momentarily threw back, and you use it as an opportunity to shuffle on your knees, your hands quickly found his crotch.
Taken aback by your bold eagerness, he hisses harshly as your delicate fingers found his bulge. His intent to drag you back on your feet vanishes as he took in the sight of his naked goddess— blazing eyes returning his stare while hovering over his sensitive arousal.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” He curses when you impatiently palms him while your other hand trembles as it attempts to unbuckle his belt.
Helplessly murmuring, “Help me...” when you couldn’t seem to do it on your own. At your helpless plea, Namjoon quickly came to rescue your little dilemma. No more than a second, his large hand swiftly unbuckles his belt, your hand greedily undid his buttons, and tug his boxers enough to release his hard member.
A gasp falls on your lips, taken aback at the sudden jolt of his thick cock against his stomach before your eyes. Surprise at the size of it, your insides clenches achingly, wondering how it had fit inside you before. But realizing why his entrance burns your insides despite your wetness, his huge cock filling you would extremely stretch your walls to fit himself.
You have seen it so briefly before on your first night together, but you haven’t had the time to admire it as Namjoon took you so urgently.
Your mouth waters at the sight of a glistening pink head, your cold, delicate fingers coming in contact with his slick member to wrap themselves around his thickness.
The subtle touch of your fingers felt too good. If it’s possible, his brown eyes only grew darker, that they are almost black now. Your mind is in shambles as both of your hands gently pump their way up and down his length.
His hips stutter at your ministration. As Namjoon falls into a state of euphoria, his head is thrown back, palms glued on the wall behind you to prevent his strength from crumbling.
Drawing your lips near, your tongue did an experimental lick at the glistening pink head. The harsh intake of breath you heard from him coax you further, swiping the underside of his length with your tongue before slowly taking him in your mouth.
”Fuck!” He growls so sexily at the feel of your warm mouth.
You felt his cock twitched, hips bucking at your warm, inviting mouth. Then you suddenly felt your bun loosens, followed by the pull of your hair as his fingers thread into your soaked hair.
“That’s it, pretty slut.” He breathlessly praises.
He draws back before filling your mouth full again. His sensitive tip touching your throat has you moaning rather erotically which only turns him on further.
He is huge, and despite willingly taking him down to your throat, the length of his cock couldn’t possibly fit all inside your mouth. Your eyes closing for a moment, suppressing the urge to choke.
“Such a good little slut for me, aren’t you sweetheart?”
Namjoon’s grip on your hair tightens, manipulating the pace to his desired speed. You didn’t care, because his pleasure matters to you more at this point.
When he glides his cock back inside, you hollow your cheeks just in time, tight enough to have him nearly gasping his next breath.
You let him fuck your mouth slowly, until he picks up a pace. Assaulting your mouth with the intrusion while mixture of your saliva and his arousal continues to leak out of your mouth.
The sounds of pleasure you hear from him only intensifies your own arousal, your stomach heating up each time your core achingly clenches.
The darkness in his eyes and the way curses recklessly stumble out of his beautiful mouth while you suck him raw takes your breath away. You’ve never seen him this vulnerably clouded in pleasure. And you’d willingly let him fuck you again this way if it means having to witness him this helpless while he chases the feel of your mouth.
Your eyes never left his as you peer up from your knees. The more you listen to his pleasure, the harder you want to take him in.
When you felt it twitch again, you deliberately took him deeper until you’re nearly choking.
Namjoon has had his fair share of women— all of whom are experienced, knew their way to pleasure him. But the goddess beneath him—his sweet angel, the woman of his dreams and dirty fantasies unknowingly had him at his mercy.
The addicting warmth and suction of your mouth pulling him further into the depth of bliss. “No, angel—” He rasps in between rapid breaths, wanting to prolong the fire until he gets to fill his favorite addicting hole, so tight, he could already taste the feeling.
You whimper, “No…” You wanted it so much. The thought of him cumming undone inside your mouth is a dirty fantasy you suddenly wish to fulfill right now.
“We’ll save it up for when I’m inside your tight pussy.“ He breathes, pulling you up and bracing you against the wall. Your thighs wobble from your previous position.
His eager mouth captured yours, harshly sucking your bottom lip, teasing it as his teeth gently pierces through your bruised lip.
He could taste himself in you as his tongue thoroughly laps the inside of your mouth. Until he moves down to your jaw, his tongue tracing his tracks down to your neck onto your already purple skin while his fingers found the pink bud of your breast. It was what made you react so sexily, moaning helplessly, burying your fingers in his hair tightly as his teeth punctures the skin then laps the area soothingly.
Your body continues to heat up in his ministrations despite the cold atmosphere in the bathroom, certain that your arousal now visibly pools out of your core to your thighs.
Your fingers hastily unbutton his dress shirt, impatient to reveal his bare torso for your eyes to feast on. But just about you had undone the last button, he crouches, robbing you of the chance to admire his body. His mouth encloses on your hard pink bud, his tongue teasingly encircling on the crown of your breast as his other hand works simultaneously, squeezing your mound inside his palm.
The sensitivity of your breasts adding up to the sensation of his mouth and hand is too much, panting as you struggle to catch your breath. Until his head lowers farther down, tracing his way down with his open mouth kisses.
Namjoon swiftly pulled your thighs apart, hooking your thigh over his shoulder to see all of you.
The mere sight of your sex could already tell how turn on you are, but it wasn’t enough for him. His fingers part your folds, dipping his thumb to feel your arousal. “Ah, you’re dripping, baby. Is this for me, hmm?”
His head lowers more, mouth hovering your pubic bone, teasingly planting sloppy kisses there.
The rapid intakes of your breath did not go unnoticed by Namjoon. A devious grin spreads on his lips as his thumb starts assaulting your clit enough to have your legs trembling from bliss. The reaction he seeks from you were generously poured out of your mouth.
“Yes god. Joon please—” Your hips jerking, needing more friction than what he’s giving. He was quick to restrain your movements, pushing your hips flat against the cold wall. Your whines of frustration soon echoes inside the bathroom.
Namjoon draws his mouth nearer, his nose erotically nuzzling your front sex that you could already feel his warm breath, “You smell exquisitely alluring, angel.”
Your anticipation shortly turns into desperation, continuously sobbing his name. Your heavenly pleas were enough to give you what you want, Namjoon willingly rewarded his tongue on your clit, licking your nub so good your eyes clenched from the sudden spark of sensation.
“So sweet…” he mumbles appreciatively, before sucking the sensitive nub in his warm mouth. The act alone has you panting in pleasure.
“Ahhh! Joon—fuck!” Your fingers quickly found his hair, your grip tightening the harder he sucks and laps your clit. You were drowning in need, darkness fills your vision as they remained shut, focusing on the sensation brought by his mouth’s ministrations. You could feel yourself leaking, and made it easier for him to slide his fingers inside your aching core, rubbing and curling them until you're visibly writhing. Cries of pleasure continue to pour out of your mouth.
“Ah! Joon! Oh god!”
Your beautiful sounds alone could bring him to hilt, his cock painfully growing harder, merely listening to you as his mouth and fingers drive you oblivion.
The painful tug of your fingers on his scalp as they tighten their grasp on his hair signals your forthcoming orgasm.
“That’s it, cum for me, little slut.” He mumbles against your sex, the vibration of his mouth against your core sending you further in the brink, as the knot of pleasure building up in your stomach snaps. You cry out, his name the only thing you can articulate of, as you climax deliciously against his mouth. Hips grinding to ride out your orgasm.
Namjoon greedily lap every bit of your sweet juices, while his thumb strums your clit to prolong your orgasm. He didn’t stop, not even when he hears you whining from overstimulation. He only withdrew his mouth on your core when you finally met his gaze, coming back from your high.
Your fingers raking his wet locks out his face as it keeps the span of his forehead hidden, wanting to see all of his pretty face.
Namjoon stood, his knees skillfully bracing you flat from the wall. He yanks his soaking, white top off his body, discarding it there before doing the same thing to his slacks proceeded by his boxers, revealing his perfectly honeyed skin body. This is the first and only time you had seen him completely naked right before your eyes.
The two of you sharing an expansive closet lets you have a glimpse of his naked torso once in a while, sometimes him adorning a pair of boxers while he selects his working attire for the day. But those times were always short lived, you shying away from staring for too long than casual glances.
From the intimate instances you had with him, you never had the opportunity to appreciate his nudity. Your eyes glint with pure admiration, seeing all of him now in front of you. Your tongue dazedly darted out to wet your lips, feasting purely on his body.
Namjoon yet again found your lips, his tongue unsolicitedly invading your mouth, fighting for the dominance which you willingly gave up. He took your responsiveness as an opportunity to pull your body in his embrace, your legs following on their accord as they automatically weave themselves around his hips over his back, your hands finding purchase on his nape. His very arousal pressing on your stomach has you moaning against his greedy mouth.
Namjoon gracefully carried you all the way out towards the bedroom, completely dazed in his kisses.
He didn’t let go of your lips all the way out, not until he dumps your wet body on the mattress. Namjoon kneels on the foot of the bed, hands grasping on your hips to flip you over.
“On your knees, sweetheart.” He commands.
A sound of what he initially recognizes as a moan tears out of you. He plants a small kiss to your hip, before he hears you object, “No!”
“What—“
“I want to see you,” You whimper, pulling his face closer, fishing for a kiss.
A smirk slowly made its way on his face, eyes darkening at the sight of you helpless in his mercy.
“You want to see me while I fuck you, is that it?” He trails, pulling your thighs apart, crawling his way between your thighs.
His nose nuzzles yours teasingly, hovering over your mouth.
Heaving a sigh in contentment, you nod. “I miss you...”
“Do you, now? Or... you only want to be fucked hard?” He murmurs, mouth ajar as it tormentingly touches your lips.
Your forehead creases in a frown, “That’s not true.”
“I’ve never seen you this needy before, Y/N. Tell me, what do you want me to do?” His fingers brushing wet locks away from your beautiful face.
“Please, fuck me...”
He nods, gently bucking his hips to slide his length on your slit. “Is this enough for you, sweetheart?” You whine helplessly.
“Joon, please… just fuck me!” Plea pours out of your mouth in complete devastation. His warmth doing nothing but fuel the ache in your core as it clenches in wanton need of friction.
You beg more and more, the longer he teases you. Namjoon lowers his head further in the crook of your neck, his teeth and tongue alternately grazing and soothing the sensitive skin. The sensation feel achingly erotic, until he not so gently bit your skin, enough to leave a mark. The mere distraction made you almost forget his tip on your entrance, until he thrusts so hard your eyes closed from the undesired pain, stretching you far too much.
“Joon—“ Your moan stifles, crying out at the painful intrusion. Tears brim in your eyes as his length stretches you fully, your slick wetness welcomes him in a swift but burning entrance. He captured your lips, somehow distracting you from the unavoidable ache of your union.
You almost didn’t want him to move from the burning ache of your walls around him. He rocks ever so gently, eliciting a sound of pleasure from you. The burning ache didn’t subside, but as he prolonged the small pace he started, you became used to the pain, chasing the tiny pleasure that comes with each thrust he gives.
The sounds you continuously emit signals him to keep going, until he picks up a pace. Soon after, sparks of euphoric bliss came shooting within your core, numbing the pain.
Your lustful gasps and his grunts were in unison as you both get used to the delicious friction of your intimate union.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You deliriously moan when he suddenly pushes your thigh up on his shoulder, allowing his cock to plunge farther into your warm, tight depths until you’re writhing, your sounds were music to his ears further pulling him deeper in euphoria.
The feeling of your tight walls gripping around his cock is such a sweet, addicting sensation. The deeper he hammers into your core, the closer he gets to chase down the delicious spark of his pleasure. The new angle allowed him to discover the places untouched, thus finding your sweet spot, that has you rolling your eyes in the back of your end. Toes curling as sparks violently shoot through your core, intensifying the knot that holds your desire.
“I’m— oh yes, right there!” you gasp, “Fuck!” Your fingers tightly thread on his hair, mouth greedily seeking his attention.
“So fucking tight, sweetheart. You feel so good around me.” Namjoon growls in between sloppy kisses against your mouth.
“So good… Joon, please... don't stop!” You sob, getting lost at your pleasure as you desperately chase the end.
Namjoon rolled his hips incredibly faster, ramming through you endlessly making you shudder from the intense sensation.
You could feel it, so close.
The violent pushes and pulls of his hips didn’t stop, rapid plunges in and out of your depths until the pleasure came rushing from the pit of your stomach.
“Joon!” You moan, the knot finally twisting, waves of euphoria shattering through your trembling body.
Namjoon’s hips stutter, savoring the feel of your clenching walls around, nearing his high. “Angel—fuck!” A long, carnal sound vibrates on his chest, as he picks up his speed while your insides tremor at the intensity of your orgasm, ferociously thrusting his cock so fast as he chases his own climax, and shooting his liquid generously inside you. His mouth attacks your breast to counter his sounds of pleasure.
Your whimpers echo in the room, the post-orgasmic bliss mixes with the stinging sensation brought about by the love bites he generously marked on your skin slowly pulls you back from oblivion, while you listen to your pants and his rapid breathing.
When he finally comes back to his senses, his tired eyes briefly surveys your length. Your body remains still as your eyes are closed shut, chest rapidly rising and falling. Assuming you dozed off, he carefully untangles his limbs off of you to clean you up before tucking you in.
As he climbs off the mattress, your hand manages to grip his arm in time. “No, don’t go.” He hears you breathlessly whimper.
You look spent— satiated even. He could clearly see your eyes as they struggle to open still. He retreats back on the mattress, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He reassures you in a soothing tone. A sigh went past your lips in relief. You gave him a subtle nod, trusting his words.
“I miss you,” You croak, you were just so tired, and sleepy. But you can’t seem to move on from missing him too much for the past few days.
He could see it in your eyes, the vulnerable side of you in the aftermath of the lovemaking.
“I know, baby.” He whispers close to your ear as he strokes your hair in a comforting manner.
His touch, so gentle in contrast to how he rammed you to the hilt minutes ago. It was as if he was cooing you to sleep. Few moments later, your consciousness slowly shrinks, finally succumbing to darkness.
The next moment your eyes open, the first thing they search around is him. His side of the bed is empty. And the moment you dared to move, you instantly felt the ache in your muscles and the numb feeling in between your thighs. Then your eyes noticed a shirt, which you have on. Just by the size of it, you knew it was Namjoon’s but you don't ever remember putting it on before you fell asleep.
How long have you been sleeping?
It was dark in the room, the dim lights supporting just enough so you could see your way through the room.
“Joon?” You call out, looking around the room. There’s no sign of him— until your ear caught a distinct clinking of glass, your gaze instantly landed on the very subject you were seeking for.
At the sound of you calling his name, his head snaps, instantly meeting your gaze as you struggle your way towards the corner of massive room.
He wore a pair of plaid pj pants and a plain white shirt similar to the material that covers your body now. His messy hair tells you that he had pushed back his locks more than once. His isn’t this long before, and you wonder how many regular haircuts he had abandoned to have it this long. With how endearing he looks with his hair, you made a mental note to have your way to stop him from cutting it any time soon.
When you shifted your gaze away as you near the stone coffee table, you saw there on top, a glass container of expensive alcohol, a liquor glass and an ashtray which made you turn your eyes back at him. You didn’t notice the stick in between his fingers right away.
“Angel,” he greets in a curious tone, surprised to see you awake.
“You’re not asleep.” You say, your stare following his fingers as he inhales a long draw through the stick before crushing its end against the ashtray. Smoke coming out of his mouth and nose as he exhales.
His hand caught yours, coaxing you to sit on his lap. His fingers brushing away your hair out of your face. “You okay?” His surprisingly gentle tone laces in concern.
You only nodded in reply, willingly obliging onto his embrace. Your thighs curling on his lap as his arms instantly pull you on his chest, preventing you from falling off.
The lingering smell of cigarette and alcohol from his breath mixed with his natural scent wafted through your nostrils as you find yourself burying your face on the crook of his neck. You didn’t know it could smell this intoxicating on him. As if your core is not literally burning enough from the intimacy earlier, you could feel yourself slowly leaking, core clenching painfully at the thought of his thick length inside you.
His hand rests on your back, the other on your thigh, the warmth in his body enveloping you from the cold.
You tilt your head to the side, “I didn’t know you smoke.” You say in dazed of your growing desire.
“Hmm, does it bother you?”
You didn’t answer. But let yourself drink in his exquisite smell.
You felt his palm soothingly rub your back, “You should rest, I’ve worn you out.” You cheeks heating up on his mere words.
Your lips pressing tiny kisses there, on the skin of his neck.
He stills, recognizing the intention of your sweet gestures. “Sweetheart—“
“Please, make love to me Joon.”
He sighs, “I was not gentle with you, sweetheart, it’s too soon for you.”
His shirt crumples beneath your fingers, “I want you.”
The way you beg him to take you made him forget how he was striving to control himself to fuck you again and again, until his needs are temporarily sated.
He was not gentle and the aftermath of the intimacy surely left traces of pain from how tight your core is. It was the reason why he’s now several glasses in from liquor, distracting himself because it’s too soon to satisfy the urge have his addicting vice.
With your plea, his restraint vanishes so quickly, giving you what you had begged for.
He took you there on the couch.
You were clinging onto him, urging for him to fuck you harder. Your sweet moans, your stinging bite marks on his shoulders, and your warm, tight core choking his cock brought him to the hilt. Cumming in the depth of your insides raw and hard. The thought of you bearing his child briefly feeds his mind as his liquid mixed with your juices gushes out of your core.
The alcohol, being the source of his early distraction, fail to restraint him to fuck you, again. For the third time of the night, you willingly gave yourself in to his carnal needs. Despite the evident ache in your muscles all throughout your body, his touch, his kisses and the pleasure he made you feel were enough to coax you.
The next morning, you unquestionably feel horrible. You could feel your head throb, and the slight attempt of moving made you whimper in pain. The burning sensation in your core is difficult not to miss as much as the ache in your body.
Namjoon is nowhere in sight and as much as you want to come search for him, the blinding light seeping from the floor to ceiling glass wall made it such a heavy task to do so.
What time is it?
You inwardly groan at the thought of missing your classes. You have done it a lot of times before that you literally couldn’t afford to miss some more.
Feeling the exhaustion from your body, you dozed off some more and only stirred awake when you felt something on your face.
With your eyes closed, you know it was no other than your husband. His hand moves from your face to your hair, gently stroking and raking your locks away from your face.
When the afternoon break came approaching, he paid a short visit to the room to check you in. He didn’t come to his office today, shifting his appointments through digital meetings in his study.
He’s been watching you for a few minutes now. Worry creeps into him, the intimate activities must have drained your energy empty. He mentally reminds himself to be gentle to you next time.
“Hey,” Namjoon suddenly hears you greet. His gaze lifted toward your eyes.
A smile slowly spreads on his lips.
“Good afternoon, sweetheart.”
He laughs when you groan, shutting your eyes closed in distraught as you realized it is indeed late.
Frowning, “I missed my classes.”
“You did. Your friend called this morning, I answered the call and told her you’re unwell.”
“Jihyo?“
“Yes. Perhaps, you’ve rested enough?” You nodded.
Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the only time you missed most of your classes just because you were too tired to get up in the morning.
He didn’t falter the following days. Taking you one way or another. You even thought he would finally be sated with his needs after several days. You’re wrong. Because the more you allow him to touch you, the more he wants to take you shamelessly just about anywhere he can make his advances.
“Joon, we’re in the kitchen.” You manage to say as his hand slides inside your sweatpants one Sunday evening.
You‘re heating up a pasta that was abandoned several hours ago, starving from fulfilling your other needs. Miyoung must have kept the food in the fridge when she realized the two of you have no intention to eat the supposed lunch.
Namjoon tags along, watching you prep the food in the microwave until he decides touching you seems like a better idea.
His fingers almost there, where they were earlier on the bed, and if you weren't too hungry and spent, you would probably let him do you here. Your hand grips his arm tight, restraining whatever intention he has.
“No one is here.” He insists, lips assaulting the skin on your exposed shoulder. The bulge of his crotch pressing on your back, feeling the evidence of his growing arousal.
A mere slave to his touch, you appeal, “Joon, can we eat first? I’m hungry,” when you feel his other hand sneaks under your shirt.
His movements gradually took a pause, sighing in defeat. He kisses your temple before letting you eat in peace.
“Listen, can I talk about something?”
Mingyu gave you a brief glance, although he seems to have his focus fixed in front as he drives you back home.
“Of course, Mrs. Kim.” He says politely.
Your face scrunches up. “I told you to call me Y/N.” That was on his first day, you instructed him to address you by your name when Hanbin introduced you to Mingyu as ‘Mrs. Kim’.
Mingyu nods without returning your gaze, “I could, but I’m not sure the boss would be thrilled to hear I’m on a first name basis with his wife.”
He could be right. But you choose not to voice it out. Shrugging, “I’m sure he would not mind.”
“You don’t want the boss to get mad.” He states as a matter of fact, then adds, “What do you want to talk about, anyways?”
You shifted in your seat, slightly angling your body towards him. “So, do you guys know what time Namjoon usually comes home?”
He didn’t speak right away, eyes narrow hearing your question.
“Hanbin does not tell me that sort of information, unless it’s necessary. My job is to guard you, anyway. Why do you ask?”
There was something in his demeanor that changed, or was it your mind playing tricks on you?
“I... Uhm...” You fumble through the right words that could explain your plan, but all you had come up with is a simple reassurance of his participation. “Can I trust you though? You know... not to tell him?”
He clears his throat and shuffles on his right earpiece. Your eyes caught it. Is someone speaking on him through it?
“I’m not sure, we don’t keep a secret to the boss.” He responds, shortly. Part of his job requires him to disclose your activities and anything related to your safety. Entertaining your antics might put him in serious trouble.
Your eyebrows rose. “Ever?” You ask, testing the water. His cooperation would really help you out.
His forehead creases, sizing up your words whether it’s a trap or just some white lies far from a threat to his job. “Are you questioning my loyalty, Mrs. Kim?” The thing is, as the conversation prolongs, it would be difficult for him to avoid trouble, he thought as he fails to understand your purpose.
“No. Just... it’s a different kind of secret.” Your voice falters.
If you want to keep a secret, why should you drag him with it?
“A secret is a secret. It would cost me my job, you know.”
Your eyes roll as if you don’t know that. He’s not even letting you talk before deciding on his own. You wouldn’t even bother telling him if you don’t need his support to pull off your plan, how will you buy stuff without him tipping it all off to Namjoon’s right hand man. Speaking of which, perhaps, you shall consider tagging Hanbin along in your plan.
Heaving an exaggerated, you convince him further, “It's not something bad, will you hear me out? You won’t be in trouble if you keep it a secret. Just promise me you won’t tell him?”
He didn’t look at you, nor made an effort to acknowledge it.
“Hear me out first?” You try again when he seems doubtful.
His focus was clearly on the road as he shows clear disinterest to listen to you.
“Fine then...” You surrender, crossing your arms.
Silence filled the air inside the car all throughout the journey home, with you frequently shooting childish glares in his direction the entire time.
When Mingyu expertly maneuvers the car on the garage, you quickly climb off the car fully intending to ignore him just so you could stir guilt in him because you couldn’t directly admit you need his help.
Unexpectedly, Mingyu catches up with you and suddenly offers, “We can talk tomorrow. On your break.” Then he sprinted toward the flight of stairs instead of usually taking the lift before you could even process his words.
He changed his mind that fast?
Out of curiosity, you did try to talk to him again during that night but you couldn’t get a hold of him. And going to the basement where the team camps in could raise suspicion so you waited until tomorrow.
The following day, you notice an unfamiliar guy adorning a similar all black uniform. It does not bother you though since your husband owns a whole agency. However, Mingyu didn’t show up and was replaced by a new one. Although questions start stirring up in your mind, you never really voiced out your concerns to anyone.
When you got home that night, you attempted to wring out an answer from Namjoon.
You didn’t need to find him because the moment you returned from uni, he was at the foyer with Hanbin, backs facing your direction. By the mere looks of it, he was sort of giving commands to his right hand man, something you couldn’t properly hear what it is about.
“Hi.” You finally speak, catching both of their attention. Namjoon made a gesture in his hand, dismissing Hanbin while you approached his tall figure.
As Hanbin passes by you, he sends a polite nod to your direction as a greeting, before disappearing from one of the doorways.
With a few steps forward, Namjoon met you half-way, eyeing you up and down. “Sweetheart,” He murmurs while swiftly reaching for your hand, to pull you in for a kiss.
It wasn’t even just a peck. His lips have instantly dominated yours, making sure he sucked and licked your lips enough to have you catching your breath when he drew back.
Your cheeks instantly flame at the sudden ministration. You couldn’t even keep an eye contact with him, too embarrassed with how quickly your body reacted to his lips.
Unlike you, Namjoon still wear a passive expression, not even a single affected by the kiss. Of course, he did more than just a kiss to you before.
Keeping a safe distance from him, you took a step back.
“You replaced Mingyu?” You begin inquiring.
Out of all the things you can ask, it has to be the very reason for his anger.
He didn’t seem one bit pleased to hear you mention your bodyguard’s name instead of asking how his day had gone like your usual opening question during dinner.
“I did, should it matter?” He answers with another question.
Nervous by the intensity of his stare, you shrug, “I was just wondering why he’s not around.”
It’s true. If Mingyu didn’t promise the talk today, you wouldn’t be this curious.
“He’s back in the headquarters.” Namjoon briefly provides.
But the information was too short to rest your mind in peace. Why did he suddenly removed him as your guard?
“Oh, okay.“
Something tells you, it’s not all of that. Mingyu’s absence, for all you care, could be anything work-related or personal as long as the boss is concerned. You‘re already aware that Namjoon does not take jealousy too lightly, and somehow you’ve presumed Mingyu will inevitably be victimized under Namjoon’s territorial behavior. The problem is, you couldn’t seem to think of any instance that would make your husband jealous. Unless... Namjoon knows something else you’re not aware of.
“Will he come back here?” You ask further, nervously fidgeting your bracelet while surveying his expression. His eyebrows knitted for whatever reason, significant or not.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Namjoon cocks his head to the side, his now pitch black eyes strangely spoke with raw emotions you couldn’t tell what exactly is.
“Tell me one good reason why he should be here...” He suggests with a nonchalant tone. Unknown to you, his patience is shrinking as he lowers his head to eye you with his tense stare.
You didn’t understand what it is for, but you couldn’t help your body as it faintly shudder under his stare. “I’m just curious—”
“How many secrets of yours have you told the boy, Y/N?” Your heart momentarily stops at the mention of your name. Because he rarely calls you by name.
Is he referring to the conversation you had with him yesterday?
“W-What... do you mean?”
The cold temperature couldn’t even cease the rising tension between you two.
“You perfectly understand what I mean.” He answers right away, locking his gaze to you. Making sure you could see the way his eyes flicker with fire.
Mingyu told him?
You fumble with words, confused at Namjoon’s anger towards you. “How...w-what...what did he tell you?”
“What do you think?” Namjoon returns the question back. And it confuses you more now for how your inquiry has turned into a confrontation, especially that the unnecessary anger is directed at you. You should have not beat around the bush and just directly told him you wanted to surprise Namjoon.
Now, Namjoon thinks you’re actually keeping something serious from him.
Did Mingyu really snitch on you? You quietly ponder over, as you recall what happened inside the car. Mingyu was barely participating in the conversation, and the way he responded to you... it was formal, and uncooperative like the usual. The fact that Namjoon knows about it is already a giveaway that Mingyu actually tell-taled. Unless... the earpiece—
“If he told you about it, then you would know he didn’t even let me talk, unless he told you something else...“ You trailed. The longer you think of it, the more convinced you are that Namjoon knows something more, just from the look he bears...
“We can talk tomorrow. On your break.”
Mingyu’s words echo in your mind, once again. And as your brain slowly processes the information, it gradually makes sense to you…
The way he was talking to you in the car made you believe he didn’t want to participate in whatever ploy you have, but he quickly changed his mind once both of you were out of the car. It was not his two-way earpiece. But the car--
Namjoon saw the horror slowly creeping into your face.
“You heard, didn’t you...” You breathed. Namjoon heard it clearly, fully comprehending the words you just uttered.
“Something must be in that car, isn’t it?” You press, further.
He is well-aware that you’re not stupid, and you’ll eventually find it out. He just didn’t imagine it to be revealed this way.
Nonetheless, his lips only pursed as he remains calm and collected, no trace of remorse or guilt visible on his face.
His expression tells you he was not bothered by the fact that you found out. You didn’t know how the fire in your eyes is effortlessly piercing his heart. The kind he does not want to see in your eyes.
You scoff, “What else—Is my phone bugged?” You suddenly prod, tilting your head up so you could fully observe him through your lashes. His face, however, maintains a straight face. You waited for his answer, silently wishing he would debunk your assumption.
The lack of response only made you confirm it.
Fury quickly courses within you, “Why?” Your hands rub your face in utter disbelief. “You have me tailed everywhere by your men, is that not enough?” You spat, resentment slowly clouding your mind,
”You have my freedom under your mercy, now my privacy? What else do you want from me?”
“It’s for your safety—”
You laugh humorlessly, harshly brushing the stubborn tears on your cheeks. “Tell me, is everything in your apartment bugged? The bedroom? The closet? The bathroom—”
“Hush sweetheart, your body is mine and only for my eyes to see.” He was quick to come to your side, catching your arms. You didn’t like the proximity. It makes you weak.
“I’m not your fucking toy! You can’t do this to me!”
“Calm down, baby. I love my woman submissive.” He says in a soothing tone. His words as softly as they were spoken hurt you deeply, fueling your ire even more.
You didn’t know how you found the strength to slap him. Your hand trembles, stinging from pain after it meets his skin.
“Find another woman, then!”
His face barely turned from the impact, proceeding to address your anger.
“Calm down.” He attempts to console, but it only did the opposite to your ego. You trash your arms out, hating the way he still has the upperhand despite the table being turned upside down. Your strength could never compare to his as you struggle to push him.
“You are my woman. Need I remind you that?”
Harshly shaking your head, “No! Don’t touch me!” His grip loosens on your arms, and you took it as your chance to sprint off towards the stairs, not wanting to repeat what happened in his office before.
You locked yourself in the bathroom, somehow trusting that this is the only place kept hidden from any prying eyes. Tears uncontrollably flow through your cheeks, face buried on your hands as you helplessly listen at the loud thumping of your heart. If you didn’t pull back, chances are he would have his way to take your weakness in his advantage. The strong surge of emotions you feel cannot even compare to his physical strength.
You’re confused, hurt and disgusted all at once. You didn’t expect how messed up this whole marriage thing could get, realizing you actually know so little of him, of what he does in a living. To think that you have learned to trust him because of the stupid affection you have been nurturing for months, makes your insides twist in fury.
Perhaps, it was a spur of the moment thought that you regarded as a wise decision, as anger overpowers your senses.
You didn’t understand how it transpired, accordingly. When you quickly packed up a few things put the bag underneath the bed while waiting for the night to progress, Namjoon didn’t come to the bedroom. You thought it helped you leave smoothly.
Little did you know, Namjoon was watching the scene unfold through the numerous cameras simultaneously viewing before his eyes on the screen of his laptop. It was taking all of his willpower to stop you and lock you in his bedroom until your anger subsides, but something tells him it would not do good to cool down your anger.
Funny how the situation unexpectedly turns upside down as he recalls being gutted with anger. Not liking how you so easily open up to others than him. He couldn’t deny the ugly feeling traversing within him when he listened to your interaction with the boy.
As the night rolls around, the burning sensation of the alcohol in his throat becomes addicting, taking more until the ache in his chest numbs.
Jackson’s apartment was the only place you could reach at this hour. Considering Jihyo is staying in the college dorm, you wouldn’t be able to get inside the building for it was already past two in the morning.
His place was not even considered a hideout. But at that point, you don't even care if Namjoon comes along breaking down Jackson’s doorway to force you back at home. You only needed a safe place away to think at the moment because you couldn’t bare to see him, yet. And you’re well aware of the effect he has on you. He can quickly cloud your judgement over his will through his mere touch. That’s how bad you’ve fallen for him.
Few days of distancing should enough for you to sort your feelings, if he doesn’t come collecting you himself.
“You okay?” Jackson croaks, seeing you trembling a little. Minutes prior, he was ready to beat the shit out of the person who was smashing his doorbell like a madman. Never would he think it was you of all people.
“He didn’t... hurt you, did he?” He hesitatingly asks, seeing the traces of tears staining your cheeks.
Shaking your head, “No. We just had a fight.”
“He doesn’t know, right? That you’re here?”
You gave Jackson a knowing look, “He probably does by now.”
Jackson offered his bed on the first night, but you turned his offer down. You took the couch instead, somehow preparing yourself for the imminent devastation of the storm. Fortunately for you, no one tried to break their way into Jackson’s apartment that night, relieved that everything is still in place or it’ll surely make you guilty for dragging your friends to your problems with Namjoon.
That following morning, you transferred into Jihyo’s dorm, deciding it would be best for Jackson’s safety.
Six days insufferably passed. However, it felt longer than that. Staying away had not concluded the fight you had with Namjoon. There was also no sign of Namjoon or his men lurking around the college or the dorm in the past few days. And it bothered you more than it should have given you peace. The thought alone made you realized, you were more affected by your action as you were deeply tormented by the thoughts of him and the possibility that he doesn’t want you, anymore.
Your anger towards him couldn’t tame your feelings for him. Maybe you have underestimated it as a mere attraction—infatuation, even.
That night, Namjoon showed up in the dorm’s doorsteps, to which you had already expected since the first night. But you’re still left surprised, nonetheless.
Your heart painfully tugs, as your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. “What are you doing here?”
Indeed, it was unfair. While you wallow in despair for days, he seems not one bit affected by the situation.
“You will go home,” He calmly orders, his eyes briefly scanning you over.
As ever, he didn’t fail to make your heart thump crazily from the mere sight of him. While you look worse—missing a lot of sleep from trying to balance your studies and your issues with him, he looks stunningly gorgeous, powerful, and unfitting to be in a place like this.
“No, I‘m staying.” You insist.
“I’m not asking for you permission.” He corrects you in a formal tone, before walking past your figure.
“Namjoon—wait! Where are you going?” You panicked, tailing behind him as he immediately finds Jihyo’s room where he scans around the small space. This is barely a room to stay in, he silently thought.
“Pack your clothes. I’ll give you five minutes before we go. Unless, you want to leave without them—” You didn’t let him finish, cutting him of mid-sentence.
“No, I'm not coming with you.” You compel, determined to follow what you had planned in your mind.
The look on his face is all too familiar, the one that tells you he won’t take no for an answer. “Do not test my patience, sweetheart.”
“Namjoon, stop.” You begin, visibly in distress by the sudden shift of the situation. You are aware he always has the upperhand.
“I want to stay here. Can’t you at least give me that after what you’ve done?” You implore. As much as you miss him, you couldn’t afford to see him yet, or it could break you.
“I already gave you space, that’s enough for you.”
Shaking your head, “I didn’t ask you to. I left.” You say.
His height does not intimidate you anymore, but the way he holds himself now, he seems different. As if he was deliberately trying to make you succumb to him.
“Sweetheart, I had all the means to stop your ploy if I wanted to. I didn’t, because I figured you would need it.” Declares Namjoon, drawing himself closer to where you stood.
You took a step back. “What if I don't want to?” You challenge.
He lowers his head, allowing you to have a glimpse of his dark eyes, silently warning you. “You don't have a choice, sweetheart.”
You let him win, again. Because you were left with no option. You couldn’t think of anything else that you could do to oppose him without compromising anyone, especially your friends. Nothing you could do but to give in for now.
Namjoon already disappeared from somewhere when you entered the living room, leaving you all alone until you hear footsteps nearing towards your direction.
You turn to see who it was.
“What are you doing here?” You warily ask, utterly surprised to see him. How many more surprises do you need yo deal with today? By how ugly the events have turned out, you won’t expect to see him again, or anywhere near the penthouse.
He gave you a nod as a form of greeting, before answering, “Working. What else do you think I’m here for?”
“For Namjoon?”
“Of course, he’s my boss. But he gave me a specific instruction to guard the queen.”
You only gave him a look, although with the obvious height difference, you had to tilt your head up to do so.
Your visible annoyance quickly amuses him. After what happened, he really has the nerve to smirk right in front of you?
“I’m sorry Mrs. Kim, but you look horrible today. You alright?” He shamelessly nags to which earns him scowl from you.
“That’s nice of you to say.” You retort, “I’ve been missing a lot of sleep, thank you very much.” He laughs as if nothing really happened.
It’s not his fault, anyway. You don’t blame him for what happened. However, the urge to ask him why he’s back here almost slips past your lips. Only that you remember someone could potentially be eavesdropping to which you didn’t need unnecessary suspicions from Namjoon, anymore.
The conversation was short lived when Miyoung called you in, gesturing for you to come with her in the kitchen, not expecting to see Namjoon sitting in one of the stools in the island counter where food is sumptuously served.
Your footsteps stagger, half-considering to leave the kitchen. However, Namjoon patiently waits for your next move, as if silently ordering you to take a seat.
Heaving a sigh, you did just that, not wanting to stir an argument with him.
Once you sat down across from his seat, he starts placing various food from the empty plate in front of you, until it is almost full that you’re not sure if you can eat all of it.
“Stop... I can’t finish all of that.”
Namjoon pauses, peering at you in disbelief. “You can, it’s your favorite.”
You didn’t like the way he was acting up like he didn’t cause the problem in the first place. You hated how the impact of his action didn’t seem to affect him a single bit.
“I’m still angry,” You couldn’t help but to say.
His serious stare tells you he has no time for a confrontation, but so are you.
“I know, you can be angry for as long as you want. But please, angel, eat the food so I could have the peace. You haven’t been using your cards for your meals, did you intentionally do that to make me worry?”
You scoffed, his indifference to your issue only frustrates you even more. “Why would you think I’ll use your money while I’m gone?”
“You don’t have the means to live independently.”
“That’s not the point here, Joon.”
“It is, when you were not looking out for yourself. You haven’t been coping well… you look a few pounds lighter.” He said in a firm persistence to prove your inability to live well without using his resources.
So what if you were miserable? You couldn’t really force yourself to eat if you didn’t have the appetite to consume food. Either it was because of your distress over the fight or food simply didn’t appeal to you.
Speaking of, you barely touched the food in front of you. You’re not even hungry anyway.
“Shut up—“
Namjoon was quick to cut you off, dismayed by the lack of light in your eyes, you almost look like you’re about to pass out. “Why is it so easy for you to disregard yourself for your pride? If you have been taking care of yourself well I would have given you longer time to mourn in that little cubicle room you call a place.” Namjoon says in a clearly disappointing tone.
The fact that you lost a few pounds in a matter of days bothered him. It took so much of him to let you wallow in despair, he knew that disrespecting your privacy is not right and he understands how it left you scarred with the horrid feeling of betrayal. The same reason why he let you on peacefully for days, until he couldn’t handle it no more.
The short glimpse of you while he had you followed only did more damage to his heart than the peace he was aiming for. A single look from you and he already knew the fight took its toll on you deeper than what he had expected. Your physical state was the last straw to make up his mind to take you back, unwilling or not.
“My pride? You think it’s because of my pride? You think I’m mad because you outsmarted me with your stalking shenanigans?” You echo his words, finally losing the will to touch the food.
“What else is there to be angry about, I told you, it’s for your safety.” He counters back. His mind was spiraling wildly, uncertain how to handle this situation in a way it wouldn’t upset you more.
Namjoon was used to having the control in every situation, a single look from him and no other human being would dare speak further. He used to not care whether he could tear anyone apart with his mere words or sharp glares. He tried it with you and the impact only came shooting back at him, there in the depths of his heart, which no one had been able to inflict him with such raw powerful emotions, enough to make him bend helplessly on his knees.
“That’s the problem! You didn’t even tell me! I was kept in the dark all this time! And now what? You suddenly care about me when you didn’t even consider what I would feel when you gave everyone else something to snoop in about right under my nose?” You accuse, finding the strength to hit him with your words. A moment ago, you felt too empty to even bother a conversation with him. As the remnants of disgusting feeling stirs within you, you now want nothing but to lash out every bit of your anger towards him.
However, Namjoon didn’t want the confrontation this soon when he just had you back home. Though he would not avoid it, he believes now is not the time to talk it over.
“We can talk after you eat, sweetheart—“
“No, we will talk now!”
His gaze pierces straight through your eyes. Although his eyes almost reflected defeat, the aura he carries is so powerful. No one would ever dare scream or say no at him, unless, they don’t value much of their life.
You really are something. Someone who can never compare to him, someone whom he can easily crush in a snap of his fingers— but you’re not just some woman out there. You are his woman, the only one who has bewitched him—not only claiming his heart but also owning his dark soul. If you only knew the effect you have on him...
Silence fills the cold air, shortly. As you look away, not liking the effect he has on you, he quietly seeks for your eyes. He could always see through you—the emotions your eyes transparently reflect. He failed to see any of it when you turned your head away.
He sighs, before breaking the cold silence. “No one can access your phone, you don’t have to worry about it. It is for when… something happens, I could track your location and your digital activities.” Namjoon briefly explains.
There are things that should be left unsaid for your sake. His company has long strayed away from the black market since his father died. But the industry he belongs to will always bear ugly truths in order to sustain the reputation of his company. What he did, to put it into the simplest terms he could articulate of, protection does not only mean hiring people to be your human shields. In this digital age where perpetrators can utilize technology to harm their target, something has to be sacrificed to protect an individual alongside. In your case, it was your freedom, privacy and much more you have yet to realize. He didn’t want you to run away every time you learn something about him or the kind of business he has.
He could not tell you anything else.
“Liar! You’re only saying that to validate your action.” You say in an accusing tone. You got up from your chair, increasing the distance from him as the ambience gets suffocating.
“I’m not justifying what I did whether it’s wrong or not. I would do it again if it means to protect you. When have I not shown you I didn’t care?”
He didn’t mean no harm to disrespect your privacy, but that’s just a part of many things you would have to deal with when you’re married to him. Danger has come along with his name long before he was born.
As he steps closer, you quickly step away. Your head lowering, avoiding his eyes. “W-What are you… saying, you shouldn’t have kept it from me, in the first place. You don’t have to pretend you care. You’re only protecting me because I’m your responsibility.”
His forehead creases, “You are my wife. That makes you my responsibility, isn’t that the same thing for caring, sweetheart?” His hands extend forward to coax you closer.
You shook your head, “No.”
You couldn’t deny that he’s been attending to your needs, being more than just a guardian, crossing the line beyond the role of a mere provider. He became someone you have come accustomed as a husband despite the lack of emotional commitment from him, a friend under the guise of a husband. Even if you wanted more from him, who are you to demand such thing? The mere thought of your unrequited feelings towards him painfully tugs your heart.
Namjoon caught the raw emotions swimming from eyes. To what are those for?
“Have I not shown you enough? With my actions, with my kisses... when we make love—“
“Shut up, you d-don’t know what you’re t-talking about.” You stammer, turning your back at him as you feel your eyes welled up.
“Then tell me how you feel, I can only take so much when it comes to you. I’ve never felt so helpless when I see you suffer, when you cry. Baby, I was so lost when you left. Tell me what I should do.”
“Stop… you’re confusing me with your words.” You croak, as you struggle to process his words.
The sound of his steps nearing made you still. Your eyes clenched shut, and as the tears stain your cheeks, you quickly wipe them away. Namjoon is so close, you literally could feel the heat of his body.
“I’m not good at expressing my feelings. But I thought I made my intentions very clear. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you baby, please let me hold you.” Namjoon drew himself nearer, until your bodies are touching. When you made no effort to distance yourself farther, he cautiously encircled his arms around your waist.
You remain still as he pulls you even further in his embrace, nuzzling your hair from behind. You hate yourself for giving in too soon, the moment he has you locked in his arms, your anger quickly melts away. The warmth from his body felt too comforting as it slowly envelops your body, reminding you one again how much it tore you apart when you left. The ache in your chest, somehow, subsiding. You didn’t want him to let you go from his hold.
His nose traces an invisible path on the side of your head, loving the alluring scent of your hair. Softly murmuring just above your ear, “I have loved you since the day I saw you taking orders in that coffee shop. While you made me this crazy for you like no one else has ever done, you’re willing to leave everything. It was that easy for you to walk away and leave me, just like when you left your home for your freedom—“
The hard thumping of your heart is so loud as you cut him. He could probably hear it from the close proximity of your bodies.
“No, that’s not true! I didn’t leave you,” you pause, shaking your head violently to give emphasis on your point. Your heart aches, as your chest felt suddenly constricted hearing his confession. The information felt foreign in your ears, as if you were hallucinating. Is it true? Did he really know you way before you met him?
“I needed some time to think for myself. But I wouldn’t leave. I could never… I’ll always come back. I would come back to you.” Tears instantaneously flow in your cheeks.
Namjoon spoke no more, as he squeezed your body in his arms, burying his face on the crook of your neck. Savoring this moment.
You in his arms.
You barely had a glimpse of what kind of his life he has, and have no knowledge of half the ugly things he had done. The deeper he falls for you, the more he willingly succumbing himself to your mercy, as if surrendering a dagger for you to destroy him through his weakness.
He silently wishes from the gods above that you would never walk away from his life again, when pieces of him slowly unravels to you through the course of time.
“Namjoon,” you whisper, seeking the attention you unknowingly have.
“Don’t leave me again, Y/N. I can take your anger, scream at me, hurt me— anything. I can take so much from you, as long as you’re right in my sight, the way I can protect you. I’ll give you as much as time alone.”
“Joon,”
“Promise me—”
“Namjoon!” You plead loudly, tugging his arm to gain the attention you want.
He takes a deep breath, confused at the tone of your voice. “Hmm?”
“I love you, too.” You murmur so suddenly.
He stills, hearing the words he had heard you say in his dreams. This time, he was awake with you in his embrace and he was uncertain if he actually heard the words right.
“Angel—”
“I love you so much.” You repeated, with a longing voice, this time you turned to face him. The look in his face tells you all of it. Shock was written all over his face, as if your confession was something he was not expecting in his wildest dream. Between the two of you, his confession of love for you is the most unpredictable thing you heard from him.
You tiptoed, reaching for his lips. He quickly met you halfway through, greedily capturing your mouth. His tongue went past your parted lips to dominate the kiss. You sigh against his mouth, missing the rich taste of his lips.
Nothing else matters now but his embrace.
Note: Hope you all enjoyed this one sjajahahagj
This turned out a bit longer than what I had initially written only because I kind of included something to introduce characters/details that are part of my upcoming series.
mintseesaw © 2020
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Star Wars Novel Rankings
In celebration of the end of this year, I made a tier list of all of the Star Wars novels I’ve read since I joined this fandom in 2017 (which you can use to rank these books too). And I named all the tiers in a dorky but appropriate fashion. I would love to hear your thoughts on my rankings, as well as how you’d rank the books yourself! I’ve had a blast reading Star Wars novels from both Disney’s canon and the Legends extended universe over these past 3 years. Here’s to many more years of reading stories from the galaxy far far away!
I put longer (but not more coherent) thoughts below the cut.
The Chosen One: Bringing Balance to the Force and My Depressed Soul
1. The first spot of top tier had to go to Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith novelization for obvious reasons. You simply cannot beat it. It’s a masterpiece. I literally had to put the book down to scream when I read the prose associated with the opening battle over Coruscant. It gave a whole new meaning to the triumphant music and the synchronous twirling of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s starfighters as they weave through blaster-fire in the battle over Coruscant. The rest of the book is the same way. You can’t put it down. I have wAyyYyYy too many feelings about this book oh my god.
2. Thrawn was a surprising book for me. For being centered on an admiral of the Empire’s navy, it had so much heart in it! I loved reading from Eli Vanto’s perspective too. god dammit I love that freaking Wild Space hillbilly dweeb with all my heart. I think his experiences getting to know Thrawn and learning from him guides the reader to feel much the same way as Eli by the end. Thrawn is a trusted friend, not the enemy you expect him to be. I could have done without Arihnda Pryce but she’s supposed to be unlikeable so I won’t blame Timothy Zahn this time.
3. The Clone Wars Gambit duology is basically Karen Miller writing fanfic and I’m HERE FOR IT. As is tradition with Karen Miller’s Star Wars novels, the emotions are dialed up the eleven. Our favorite dumbass Jedi team is back at it again with a mission to save the galaxy and this time they end up going undercover as two lumberjacks from the boonies. Anakin holds an energy shield back from collapsing with his bare hands like a total badass. Obi-Wan is in love with another woman despite it always ending in tragedy, while also bickering like a married couple with Anakin every ten seconds. get a fucking room, you two. These two books inspired one of my fics so they’re near and dear to my heart.
Jedi Master: These Books Have A Seat On The Council Too
4. Wild Space was appropriately named, I’ll tell you that. It’s a wild ride from start to finish. *slaps the front cover* this book can fit so much of Obi-Wan’s suffering in it! @forcearama has elaborated on the many reasons why this book is a gem in Snark Wars blog posts (linked here). It’s also the beginning of the best team-up since Anakin and Obi-Wan...Bail and Obi-Wan! These two bastards get under each other’s skin but it makes for the perfect character development. This book is the reason I screech with delight whenever Bail Organa appears on screen, or is mentioned in conversation. Bail gets a mysterious tip about trouble on a planet, and Obi-Wan decides to go with him to investigate. Cue Sith-induced suffering. It’s cool to see a normal person experiencing the weirdness of Force sensitives and how the world has this extra level of sensory information in it. Plotwise this one isn’t the best, but I think the interactions between characters really shine in this novel. Karen Miller’s writing is like a cup of hot chocolate to me. Indulgent character insight, full of sweet moments, has a bunch of extra marshmallowy dialogue, you’re reading it to have a good time but not to be satisfied with plot. You get me?
5. Do I even have to explain myself here? Kenobi by John Jackson Miller is both an interesting western-style tale set on Tatooine, and a beautiful character study of a man stricken with grief he keeps suppressed. How does one continue on when their whole family was murdered and their whole culture burnt to ash? I wanted to give Obi-Wan a hug the entire time I read this. The characterization was spot-on, from the way he wrangled animals to the way he severed a man’s arm off in a bar with his lightsaber. And when he meets a woman named Annileen Calwell, or Annie for short, Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to call her by her nickname ever and if that doesn’t just break your damn heart fucking fuck.
6. Ahsoka was the first Disney canon book I ever read and it kickstarted my love for E.K. Johnston. The writing is simplistic, but that makes it easy to jump into. Overall, it’s a quick and enjoyable read. By far the best parts are the flashbacks that mull over memories Ahsoka has of the time before Order 66. That shit hits you right in the heart, man. And the part where Ahsoka equates Obi-Wan and Anakin to her adoptive family ohhhhhhh god the tears they flow like a river. There are scenes that allude to Ahsoka becoming the vital part of the Rebellion we know her to be from Rebels, balanced with her current struggles to survive and find herself. Despite having cast away her identity as a Jedi and having any remaining bits of her culture destroyed by Palpatine, Ahsoka shows us all how bright a hero can shine in the darkest of times. AND SHE WAS WRITTEN AS QUEER! finally some good fucking food.
7. Oh shit, another E.K. Johnston book? Don’t be surprised. She’s a prequel fan and so am I, hence why Queen’s Shadow is so high on the list. E.K. Johnston pays homage to our favorite queen and badass senator Padme Amidala. There’s politics, there’s solidarity between female characters, and Bail Organa is in it so you KNOW I simply must give it a high rating. All jokes aside, I thought the story added lots of little details to the world of Star Wars without it being all stereotypical sci-fi nerdy language. You know how people want to describe something beyond our technological capabilities so they throw a bunch of nonsense together like “pre-praxis crystal bio-anode circuitry”? I’m looking at you, Karen Miller, I love you but please. There is none of that in this book. It makes sense, it adds color and culture and life to the worlds of Star Wars. Most of all, it devotes time and love to developing Padme outside of her place in canon as Anakin’s wife, Queen of Naboo, and Senator. She is all of these things, but she’s human too. I do agree that the pacing is slow, but it’s something meant to be savored, I think. E.K. Johnston really shines when she’s writing dialogue because she gets these characters. That’s something to appreciate, because not all canon books agree with the way we’ve perceived the characters as an audience.
8. Rogue Planet chewed me up, spit me out, and declared me an even bigger stan for The Team. People who say Qui-Gon would have been a better master for Anakin can ~get out~ because I could read about these two hooligans getting neck deep in space shenanigans all damn day. Anakin is like twelve, which is a time in his training that we don’t get a lot of in canon. Personally, I think it was equal parts heartwarming and funny to read about their adventures. There is some angst sprinkled in there because hey, we’re reading about Anakin here, let’s not forget the emotional trainwreck that is Anakin Skywalker. The duo is sent to a planet that makes super fast ships that are ?sentient? or at least biologically active. They bond with the pilot, which makes Anakin perfect for this mission. There’s a scene where these little floof things attach all over tiny Anakin because he’s so strong in the Force and it’s god damn adorable how dare he?? I’d probably rate this one even higher if I read it again, but it’s been awhile. Characterization is spot on and reminiscent of Matthew Stover’s writing in how it highlights the strong bond between Obi-Wan and Anakin, how they’re fated to know each other. I’m a sucker for soulmates, what can I say?
9. Lost Stars reads like a movie. Not a script, but just the perfect amount of detail that you can imagine the scenes but the pacing is still quick, the dialogue smooth and natural. I couldn’t help wishing this was a film because the story was so all-encompassing. The highs and lows of the emotions of both protagonists, their relationship developing, the differences in culture. Folks, this book has it all! It’s a totally different perspective on the events of the original trilogy, seen from the side of Imperial cadets training to become pilots. Eventually, one splits off and joins the Rebellion while the other perseveres in the Empire. It’s like star-crossed lovers, but covers so much more ground than that. And the characters are fully developed. These original characters knocked my socks off, and that’s hard to do since I’m usually an Obi-Wan stan through and through. For anyone uncertain of reading Star Wars novels, this book is a great place to start. Action-packed, emotion-filled, and stands on its own despite weaving perfectly into the established universe. What more could you want?
10. Back at it again with the prequel shit, amiright? Queen’s Peril is E.K. Johnston’s most recent Padme-centric novel and it does not disappoint fans that wanted a taste of the Queen’s side of the story. Set during the events of The Phantom Menace, we get a “behind the curtain” look at how all of the handmaidens came to be more than their title suggests. There’s teenage girls getting stuff done! It makes more sense why Padme was elected ruler of her home-world, and you come to appreciate that a royal leader is not alone; there’s actually a whole team at her side to help her overcome everything from the drudgery of daily governing to Trade Federation blockades that threaten to starve her people. I think if you enjoyed Queen’s Shadow, you’ll enjoy this book a lot. For those that are unfamiliar with Johnston’s work, I wouldn’t recommend this one first because it does cover events you’ve already seen in movies and therefore is a less suspenseful companion to them. On the other hand, because it does tie in with TPM, it doesn’t suffer from the pacing issues of Queen’s Shadow to the same degree. I read this all in one sitting, so it’s definitely fun, but wasn’t compelling enough in its character development to elevate the book past some of the others I’ve listed already.
11. Thrawn: Treason was a refreshing return to the Grand Admiral we all know and love after the second installment in this series slowed things down a bit. Although it wasn’t as character-driven as the first book (which I love with all of my heart), there were still many moments that had me cackling at the disparity between Thrawn’s immense intellect and the other Imperials’ sheer stupidity, and that’s what we’re here for in a book about the Empire, right? There’s a lot of pressure on Thrawn, as his TIE Defender project has been pitted against Director Krennic’s Project Stardust. Who will get the funds? We just don’t know?? Tarkin sits in between the two and as usual, manipulates everything to his advantage. Palpatine questions Thrawn’s allegiance to the Empire after some of the choices he has made, leaving him in even more of a pickle. Thrawn is sent on a wild goose chase task that should definitely end in failure (on purpose because Imperials all want to watch each other burn as much as they want to watch the Rebellion burn), but you know Thrawn will find a way. My main squeeze Eli Vanto makes his return after being absent from book 2. Missed you, my sweet sweet country boy. He doesn’t have a leading role in this novel, but every scene he’s in makes the story better. Thrawn says “perhaps” way too often for my taste, but if you can ignore that, this book is a solid read. Equal parts action and deductive reasoning, as any Thrawn book should be.
12. Most of Dark Disciple had me thinking this was going to be a top tier book, and damn do I wish we could have gotten this animated. We follow Quinlan Vos and Asajj Ventress on a mission to assassinate Count Dooku. Why the Jedi thought this was a good idea, I don’t know. But I’m here for it all the same. 3/4 of the adventure were intriguing, but the ending didn’t do it for me. I won’t spoil things for anyone who hasn’t read this yet, but after all of the character development, to have it squandered so quickly just left me disappointed? I got really attached to everyone in this novel, and I’m sure you will to. I’ve read this and listened to it as an audiobook, and actually I think it’s more memorable as an audiobook. Would recommend, except for Mace Windu’s voice being exceptionally southern for no reason. Weird. I think this novel captures all of the great things about The Clone Wars show; time to really get to know each character and their motivations, action and adventure with the darkness of impending doom tinting everything, and lightsaber fights! Plus, Obi-Wan and Anakin make appearances in this book and it just adds that extra bit of spice. Worth the read, even if you know they aren’t going to get Dooku in the end (which I am still mad about, screw that guy).
Jedi Knight: Passed the Trials but There’s Room for Improvement
13. Few books in the Star Wars universe are centered around characters with no use of the Force, but in Most Wanted, we see a young Han Solo and Qi’ra struggling to survive on Corellia and it provides a humorous but compelling backstory to both characters in the Disney canon. Han is his usual lucky goofball self, and Qi’ra is smart and cunning. You can see how they grew into the versions of themselves in Solo. While the book stays on the lighter side of things (typical of stories written for a younger audience), there are still moments of depth on droid rights, viewing the Force as a religion, and what life is like in a crime syndicate. Addressing these heavier topics without it killing the pace of the story is hard to do, but Rae Carson pulls it off flawlessly. I went into this book with no expectations and was pleasantly surprised by how much fun I had. Han and Qi’ra start off as competitors, but eventually have to learn to work together to survive as more and more people start hunting them down. They’re honestly so cute together, I loved their dynamic. It makes Solo a better movie, and although I liked it on its own, characters like Qi’ra needed a little more time to get to know, which you can get here!
14. Thrawn Alliances was not what I expected at all, and it took me a lot longer to get through. Hell, it has Thrawn, Anakin/Vader, and Padme in it! What’s not to love? Apparently, a lot. The different timepoints and perspectives in this were more jarring than anything else. Although the interactions between Thrawn and Anakin/Vader were enjoyable, it was not enough to elevate this book into the Jedi Master tier. Things felt dry, the characters didn’t grip me like in the first Thrawn, and it all felt like a ploy to introduce Batuu into canon before the launch of Galaxy’s Edge.
15. Leia: Princess of Alderaan was a dive into young Leia’s life before we see her in A New Hope even though this was marketed as a journey to The Last Jedi book, which I disagree with. We really haven’t seen any content about Leia in this time period before, and although I can’t say I was looking for this, I did enjoy it. The book was a little long, but there was adventure and the seeds are planted for Leia to be a bigger part of the Rebellion. The romance wasn’t too memorable, but Holdo wasn’t pointless in this (a stark contrast to her brief appearance in TLJ just to sacrifice herself). There’s a hint about Leia being Force-sensitive but it’s not in-your-face. It’s a typical coming-of-age story but in the gffa. The best part about this is seeing Bail and Breha as parents. I’m forever in pain that we didn’t get to see more of this in movies because it’s so so sweet. Leia must choose what kind of person she is going to be--and what kind of princess she will become. It won’t be for everyone, but I liked it.
16. Master and Apprentice was a typical Star Wars novel, which means it’s full of original characters that are strange and outlandish to serve the plot, a new world full of beautiful landscapes, and Obi-Wan suffering. I want to make it clear that this book is 80% Qui-Gon, 10% Rael Averross, and 10% Obi-Wan. I was expecting it to be 50% Qui-Gon, 50% Obi-Wan, as the cover suggested. Although I was disappointed by that, the story overall was okay. Qui-Gon is kind of an asshole in this? When is he not, though. We really get to sink our teeth into the way he and Obi-Wan fundamentally disagree with each other, so much so that their teacher-student relationship is falling apart. Tragic! They go on one last mission before calling it quits. Qui-Gon is in over his head with prophecies, Obi-Wan just wants to follow the rules, and Rael Averross is Dooku’s previous apprentice that is living his best life as a regent until Pijal’s princess comes of age. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a solid book. I just don’t vibe with Qui-Gon and want to whack him upside the head every time he avoids confrontation with his own student. My protectiveness for Obi-Wan is showing again, isn’t it? Yikes.
17. James Luceno is one of the most analytical authors I’ve ever read anything from, but it seems to always work? Tarkin is all about...well, Moff Tarkin. He’s ruthless, intelligent, and just downright evil. His backstory was compelling and I found myself drawn into the story by the details, although it is dense and took awhile to finish. I’m not interested in him as a character, but despite that, I enjoyed this story. The plot wasn’t memorable enough for me to recall after 3 years, but it’s similar to how Thrawn rose through the ranks of the Navy, just in a different part of the Empire’s governing body. We don’t get many books completely focused on a villain (I don’t count Vader ones because we know who he was before and the whole damn saga is about him), but this one is good! Don’t be fooled by it only being in the Knight tier. I think people who read a lot of sci-fi will like this book a lot. This is like the opposite of Queen’s Shadow, basically. If you had gripes about that book, you might like this one instead.
18. Battlefront II: Inferno Squad was a worthwhile read for anyone who played Battlefront II. Iden Versio is a great protagonist in the game, and I think Christie Golden totally gets her character. She’s nuanced and relatable. The whole team is interesting and getting introduced to each member before the events of the game makes everything mean more. That’s the real goal of any prequel story, I think. Accomplished! The action scenes are on point, the plot served to highlight what makes Inferno Squad special, and you get a sense for the morally grey area anyone must function in as an operative for the Empire. Although not necessary for the greater canon, it’s a great adventure. Iden and her squad members infiltrate the remains of Saw Gerrara’s group (they’ve become a bit of extremist) and destroy them from the inside. It’s got the suspense of a spy thriller and all of the nerdy space opera elements you expect from Star Wars. Although it’s weird to jump into a story not knowing any of the characters, you’ll get attached to Inferno Squad fast. Well, except for Gideon Hask maybe. He’s kind of a dick.
19. If you’re craving some Dark Side action, Lords of the Sith will give you what you’re looking for. Sidious and Vader crash-land on Ryloth and have to work together to survive, and also defeat the Free Ryloth Movement led by Cham Syndulla. It’s all fucking connected, guys. I love when people weave together stories that fit into the canon timeline like this, bringing in side characters and allowing them to develop some depth. And a chance to sink into the mind of a Sith Lord is always fun, if you’re in the mood to read about destruction and anger. It’s cathartic sometimes. If you’re always wondering, why didn’t Vader just stab Palps when he had the chance, this book explains their dynamic more. It didn’t really change my opinion of any of the characters, which is why it’s not higher on the list.
20. Catalyst suffered from being in a really boring part of galactic history. Despite that, Galen Erso and Orson Krennic have a hilarious relationship that I would have loved to see on-screen. This book really develops Krennic to become more than just the whiny entitled evil man we saw in Rogue One. He’s ten times worse now! But I mean that in the best way, I laugh whenever he’s in a scene, that sassy man just brings me joy. James Luceno is at it again, making things as detailed and dry as possible. I read so many of his stories right at the beginning of my journey through Star Wars canon and it’s a wonder I didn’t quit. Some of them are dark as fuck. And also slow as hell. With this one, I think it all comes down to what you want out of a Star Wars novel. Some people will really enjoy the plot. I think seeing how Galen became a part of Project Stardust was interesting and every time something about the Death Star became more clear, I screeched because I knew what it would eventually become. This book may not hold your interest though, which is why I put it lower on this list.
21. Star Wars: Clone Wars was a decent retelling of the Clone Wars movie. I liked it because I liked the movie, but you have to be able to sit back and enjoy the ride, not thinking too much about the silly parts. For that reason, it’s pretty far down in the rankings. Ahsoka is young and liable to get on your nerves. I certainly wasn’t her biggest fan at this point in the series. The biggest problem is that Karen Traviss is very anti-Jedi. Some authors for Star Wars tend to do this? To me, it’s weird. I didn’t notice it too much because it was one of the first Star Wars books I read, but it contrasts starkly with the truth of the prequel trilogy and some of the other entries in the Clone Wars Novel timeline, like Karen Miller’s books. Needless to say, although this book wasn’t super memorable aside from the familiar plot, it kept me reading Star Wars books, and so it is at least an average book. Plus, any content with Anakin and the clones is worth it for me. I love them.
22. A New Hope was good, for Alan Dean Foster. I’m not a fan, I’ll be honest. But this novelization stands on it’s own. I’m going to have to do a re-read to really go in depth on why this isn’t farther up on the tier list, but the movie is always going to be better to me. If you want to re-live the great beginning of the Original Trilogy, it’s worth your time. I mean, the story is full of adventure and mystery and lovable characters. What’s not to love? I just feel like the movie really elevates the narrative with a great score and fun character design/costumes/sets.
Padawan: These Books Have Much to Learn
23. Attack of the Clones was more entertaining than The Phantom Menace because the characters are in funnier situations. Obi-Wan and Anakin chasing Zam Wesell through the levels of Coruscant? Hilarious, just like the movie. Anakin and Padme falling in love as they spend time together? Holy fuck it’s so much better than the movie. Please read it for that alone. Outside of that, the writing style didn’t really impress me. And my experience with it wasn’t super memorable. There was potential to really make the inner dialogue of these characters impactful, to really develop the story of Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padme beyond what we could get from the movie scenes alone. I didn’t think it went above and beyond there. Not a bad story at all, but you don’t get to look at Hayden Christensen, Natalie Portman, or Ewan McGregor the whole time either, so therefore I must rank it lower. So many beautiful people in that movie, holy shit. You can understand my, dilemma, yes?
24. I enjoyed parts of The Phantom Menace book, like deleted scenes with Anakin living on Tatooine before Qui-Gon and Padme meet him. The additional depth is lovely, but I think a story like Queen’s Peril adds more to TPM than this book does. The story overall is still fun. I love this movie so much, it’s hard for me to be critical. I did put a lot of post-it flags in my copy, so it does develop the characters and get you thinking beyond your expectations from the movie. What more could you ask for from a movie novelization? I’d say not much, if I hadn’t read Revenge of the Sith and had my fucking mind blown. In comparison to that, this one is just okay.
25. The Last Jedi novelization wasn’t bad, necessarily. It tried its best to bring this story up to par with some of the interesting novels that don’t have movie counterparts. But still, the plot suffers because of how this movie was made. It’s very focused on Rey and Kylo, and Finn’s little adventure with Rose seems pointless in the grand scheme of things. I’d rather read this again versus watching the film, but that’s all I’ll say on this because I’m trying to keep my opinions on this movie to myself to avoid digging up old arguments. Jason Fry did well, and of the two Sequel Trilogy books I’ve read, I would recommend this one over Ep. 7.
26. The Force Awakens falls short and I think it’s because of Alan Dean Foster’s writing style on this one? It didn’t really expand on anything from the movie, while taking away the beautiful music and visuals. This novel is the antithesis of Revenge of the Sith’s novelization, and for that reason I ranked it fairly low. I wouldn’t read this one unless you really really love the Sequel Trilogy.
27. To be fair, I read the new Thrawn book before I went back and read this one. Even so, Heir to the Empire didn’t impress me at all. Thrawn didn’t seem like a thrilling villain with lots of depth like he did in Timothy Zahn’s reimagined Thrawn novel. We barely saw him. A lot of time was spent on the Original Triology’s trio, which waasn’t bad. I thought Luke, Leia, and Han were all written fairly well. The latter part of the story was redeemed by the interactions between Mara Jade and Luke, for sure. Enemies to lovers, anyone?? Without Thrawn, this book would have been an entertaining story, but for all of the praise it has received from long-time Star Wars fans, I was expecting to be blown away and I wasn’t. Maybe I have to continue the triology to figure out what all of the fuss is about, but after this one, I’m not super motivated to read more. Change my mind?
28. Cloak of Deception really shines when you’re following Palpatine’s perspective because you can feel the undercurrents of his master plan to destroy the Republic underneath his calm persona as a Senator. Other than that, it’s a forgettable plot. This is all about galactic politics and some terrorist group trying to blow up some government officials. Basically the most boring parts of the prequel trilogy. I listened to the audiobook of this at the beginning of this year and I already forget what it’s about. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan should have been able to bring some humor and energy to get you rooting for the good guys, but there was barely any of that. I was disappointed in all of the characters. Everything felt distant, removed from the heart of the characters. Some people in reviews have argued that the events of The Phantom Menace really pinned this novel in a corner because you already know what happens, but I disagree, because we know how Revenge of the Sith goes and The Clone Wars show is that much more tragic and heartbreakingly beautiful because of it. Prequels can be done right. This ain’t it, Luceno. Sorry.
29. Star Wars: The Old Republic, Fatal Alliance needs to go home and rethink it’s life. I’m a huge fan of the Old Republic and I’ve put like 200 hours of my life into playing that game, so I was hoping for some fun content in this part of the timeline. Sadly, this book captured the worst parts of the game, like the fact that there’s way too many factions at war with each other. Jedi, Sith, Empire, Republic, Mandalorians. They’re all here. They’re all ready to throw down. And I’m tired. As with many of the books in this lower tier, I felt there wasn’t enough description of the world or the people in the story. We’re in the gffa, be a little weird and wacky. Be big and bold! Make things terrifying, or beautiful, or both. But give my mind something to work with. The number of characters made the plot messier than it could have been, and it definitely isn’t worth the read. I can’t speak for all Old Republic books, but this one didn’t impress me.
A Sith Lord?! On My Bookshelf? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think
30. So underwhelming, you might as well just read the first half and then stop. Last Shot is absolutely terrible, except for Lando Calrissian’s characterization, which was spot-on. If the whole story had been from his perspective, I probably would have a much difference opinion on the novel as a whole. Sadly, this is not the case. Han was boring, he bottled up his emotions, and seemed drastically different from the badass he was in the original trilogy. There are different timepoints in this novel, and in all of them, Han is unrecognizable. Don’t nerf one of your main characters like that. Daniel Jose Older and I might just not get along. I thought his writing style didn’t fit Star Wars at all. It was like breaking the fourth wall, totally pulling me out of the story constantly. Also, there were little to no descriptions of body language, locations, or movement. It left me feeling disoriented the whole time I was reading. I thought one of the most interesting things would have been seeing Han, Leia, and baby Ben being a family at this point in time, but Han’s family was there as a prop, nothing more. There was a big bad item that was going to cause galactic destruction and our heroes had to go save the day. There was barely any tension and no one lost an arm so I’m pretty pissed off. Is it Star Wars if no one gets their appendage removed? I can’t tell you how much I disliked this book. Which is sad because I was hoping to enjoy it. I like Han. I like Lando. I like space adventures. I’m not that hard to please, or at least I don’t think so.
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My Sorting Hat Chats Journey
So, hi! I'm back!
I've been doing fun stuff off in the real world, but I decided to talk a little bit about my own Sorting Hat Chats sorting journey, and how it says a lot about self-acceptance, and how understanding who you really are can sometimes only come from being an active participant in life. Here we goooo...
The Beginning
So, my initial sorting was a Burnt Badger/Bird. This had struck me, because I'd never considered myself a Badger in ANY media. I was seen by my friends as a borderline loner, someone who didn't need anyone else. And yet, all the signs were there.
Looking back on my life, I've always migrated in groups, always looked for a nesting ground, and truly that's all I want. A place to nest, a place to rest, where I can feel safe and surrounded by people who love me. But, after a childhood filled with bullying, I found myself embarrassed of my bold face need for friends, and, for some reason, decided getting too close to people for too long was unwise, so I could probably never have a permanent home. And yet, I always found myself in these little "groups," little packs of people that all travel together.
I've always had these friend groups, where everyone knows each other, we all hang out together, and yet it always manages to eventually fall apart. I asked one of my friends how this keeps happening, and who keeps setting up these groups. She blinked sort of vaguely and said, "uh, you do." It was such a strange realization to look back and see myself as the "shepherd" I was, always creating a flock wherever I went. I had always been the spoke of my friend wheels, the only one that was friends with everyone, or actively tried to be friends with everyone. And I would attempt to hold it together, but it would always ultimately shatter, and I'd leave to find and form another. Family is important to me, and it isn't enough for me to bond with one person. I like for all my friends to be friends with each other, for us all to hang out together and enjoy each other's company.
So, although I still struggle, Burnt Badger came out on top, and I believe is still at the top to this day. I still search for belonging. I still search for family. And, yet, my heart seems to have no intention of unburning. Until recently, I had no idea why.
On the other hand, the secondary I received, Bird, seemed to fit like a glove, and was very obvious to me. I've been called the Encyclopedia before, I was made fun of for being caught reading the dictionary like it was a book, and I always seem to have a "fun fact" for every occasion. And all of this seemed to flow directly into me trying to use these facts and this knowledge to win people over, to get to see me as someone that could be their friend, or that I could be reliable as a member of their "group." So, Burnt Badger/Bird simply made sense. The reasons for me avoiding unburning my primary were irrelevant.
The Now
I'd been gone from this side of Tumblr for a bit, and decided to return on a whim. Saw @wisteria-lodge still posting as much as ever, and saw a lot of my posts had been passed around in the meantime (thank ya by the way) and decided to dive back in, because since then, so much of my life has changed. I've had certain people out of my life for a while that were a hindrance on my self-acceptance, I've moved out of my childhood home, and left a job I've had for the past 5 years. I've been forced to constantly LIVE, to make choices, actual choices, and have been offered the chance to be who I truly am, unapologetically.
So, I took the quiz again, curious if I would come up any different.
I got Burnt Badger/Burnt Snake.
This time, I was almost insulted. A flush of memories, of past feelings came to me, most of all the need to push back, to insist in exasperation I'M NOT A LIAR, as though I was tired of defending myself. As hard as I tried, I somehow couldn't seem to get Bird secondary to reappear.... at all. Which was so crazy, because before, that was pretty much all I could get.
So, I went to the experts, the aforementioned wisteria-lodge and @sortinghatchats .
I looked through the Snake secondary tags and found myself lost in memories I had pushed down, so far down even I couldn't find them, wracked with shame and a need to hide this side of myself, something I'd hidden so well I'd pretty much convinced myself it had never existed.
Being a Bird had always been a choice for me. I decided that was what people must want, becoming intelligent, knowing all of these things, showing off, that would make people like me. But, although I can devour books like nobody's business, and I tend to worry and whinge before every major decision, feeling unprepared, I would always find myself falling short of my own expectations. The amount of times I'd promised myself and others to create a plan and study hard, ultimately fail to do so, and then lie to everyone about it was astounding. My public image continued to be "air-in-words the smart girl" but my private image was still LIAR and FAKE.
I would still somehow get all A's. I was very good at remembering facts and excellent at taking tests. I always thought of them like little tricks themselves, meant to trip you up, but if you paid attention, you could figure out the patterns and be able to bluster your way through stuff you might not even fully understand. You can figure out certain words through context clues, and I was always very comfortable trusting my memory with little preparation beforehand. And yet, I still lied and told everyone I'd studied, at least as a child, before high school.
Math was what eventually messed me up, and sent my self-image whirling into the ground. My grades suddenly went from straight A's to D's and F's. My parents were aghast, what had happened??? I was so intelligent, so smart, such a good student. What had gone wrong?? And, although I never admitted it outloud to them, I knew the answer. With math, you can't trick your way out. You either know how to do it and give the right answer, or you don't. And I had never studied a day in my life, never practiced, never worked hard at all. It was my horrible little secret and math had outed me. It continues to out me, because rather than actually work at it and get better, I managed to keep my grades through high school afloat by leaning on my other grades and taking remedial math courses with a teacher who loved me very much and would let me off easy. To this day, honestly, I can barely count. I might actually have some form of dyscalculia, but I know that if I were willing to try a little harder I could get better. But, why would I do that, when this way works just fine? Just coasting through? But, again, no one could know. Not even myself.
Through high school, I began letting people in on my secret Snake, because being a "slacker" was suddenly cool. I still couldn't let my parents know, or the teachers, but coming clean about not being a keener was what earned me new friend groups. I wasn't some weirdo who actually studied all the time: I was a kid who maybe did 60-70% of my homework and slid by on my good memory and general interest in learning. And my reputation. My reputation was key to my success.
College would be the thing that completely threw me to the ground. There were simply too many sirens singing at me, distractions pulling me away from my work. I'd never looked less like a Bird than in college. I was always skipping class, always not studying, and in fact, would openly fail most of my courses. And I just didn't seem to care. I slid into what I guess must have been a sort of neutral zone, but I wasn't happy. The mask was slipping off and I needed out. I couldn't keep up this charade anymore. It was stifling, trying to be a Bird, going to college for a very Bird degree, surrounded by actual Birds, it was all very much what I didn't want. I wanted something less "academic," less, well, boring. Maybe more Snake like.
And, so, here we are. Currently dropped out of college, living in an apartment with my friend, away from my parents' prying eyes, and with a new job that I chose for myself. On the brink of finally understanding myself, and maybe accepting myself as I am.
My Badger primary is burned because of my Snake secondary. Because I thought I was a sham, a liar, a con, and I didn't feel like I deserved to have people close to me. Those traits are bad, and I was a bad person. No one should be tricked by me.
But, after reading some of the stories from the experts and other Snake secondaries, I found this crazy thought, that perhaps being this way isn't a bad thing. Maybe I'm not a bad person. Maybe it's okay to be who I am. Maybe I can use these "powers" for good, and they aren't inherently evil.
So, at least for now, I'm choosing to identify as Burnt Badger/Burnt Snake with Bird Model. Seeing how it feels to accept myself and not try and force myself to be who I think I should be, or who others want me to be (which is a Snake secondary thing in the first place. Lol!)
For Fun, Here's Some Crazy Actual Snake Secondary Things I've Done That I'm Trying to Be Less Ashamed of Now
When I was little, I used to make up crazy stories about things I'd done to seem more interesting. The one that makes me cringe the most is that my uncle has a statue in his backyard that comes to life and goes on adventures with me. My uncle DID have a statue in his backyard that I really loved but no, it didn't (and still hasn't) come to life.
Some of these, I can't explain, like this one, where I somehow had more than one teacher convinced I'd handed in every piece of homework before the one I was giving them the sob story about that day. I literally had a teacher look me in the face, tell me I'd been handing in my homework really well thus far and knew I was trustworthy, so they'd let me slide with no mark against me. Meanwhile, I had missed the homework for the past THREE WEEKS IN A ROW. I just smiled and let it go. Variations of this situation happened throughout high school and college. And, no, I had no good reason not to do the homework. I just didn't want to do it. Lol.
I usually live in the "neutral state" around my close friends, since I think it's disrespectful not to be straight with them, but I have had to turn it on to help them occasionally. One of my friends was having issues with an ex of hers, she was thinking that maybe she should go back out with the guh, and I had been my blunt, neutral self the whole time, telling her flat out that that was a bad idea. But, it wasn't working. "Neutral state" isn't like a Lion's forceful natural state, I guess. So, I decided I would have to push her in a certain direction to help her get through it. I told her she should go back out with him, and although she did sort of call me out for lying, knowing I didn't actually want that, I told her she should if she really think she should. The dude didn't last one date without showing his ass again, and she thanked me for making her do that. Lol.
Finally, at least for this list, my most prized shameful memory, is when I was taking an acting class in college. We were supposed to create a wordless scene as our final, and I hadn't prepared anything, so I just skipped the day we were supposed to do them. But, I decided to show up for the last day to see if I could still somehow pass. She's going through the grades, and looks up and asks me, "I don't have anything written down for you, I can't remember, did you give a performance or not?" I knew I hadn't then, but decided to give one now. I told her yes I had done one, don't you remember came up with a name on the fly. The same friend from the last story was staring at me like she was about to burst. She thought for a moment, then exclaimed, "ah, of course! Yes, I think I remember. I remember you'd done pretty well. What grade did I give you?" I hedged my bets and said A-. Lol. I had never been filled with more pride shame in my life.
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