#the emotionally difficult things and making choices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kooahae · 16 days

Text

HATE THE CLUB

Pairing : Idol Namjoon x non idol female reader

Summary: You can’t stay away from him - at least that’s what it feels like the universe is telling you. You and the man of your dreams, somewhere that you both hate, just to end up in a place you both love- his bed.

Genre: very mild angst, fluff, smut.

Warnings: oral (f) receiving, fingering, pussy smacking, Unprotected sex/ he finishes inside ( pls don't do this lol) making out, Namjoon is so sweet but ofc he is! Readers a creamer, Missionary, slight yearning. MDNI

___________________

“Before you even ask me , I came ‘cause I knew you’d show up…”

“This isn’t even your scene, what if someone sees you?” You ask, searching the area. You would hate to be at the scene of what you know for sure would make the headlines, Although the 6ft of sin standing in front of you doesn’t seem to care.

Namjoon would be anything you needed. He decided that the moment you entered his life. You affected him. You always have. The first girl who understood him- not just intellectually, but emotionally. It’s always been you. Even if his career made it difficult, he would always choose you. Even right now standing in the middle of the club -where he knew it could get him in to some heavy shit, but none of that mattered. His heart didn’t agree with the opinions clouding his brain about staying away from you. You’re beautiful inside and out, it doesn’t matter how much you attempt to make him uninterested, all the attempts of staying away from you , horrible attempts from you where you tried to be selfless - he on the other hand wouldn’t stop trying. He’s never been a quitter, so why be different today?

“You really shouldn’t be here Joonie.” You say as you pull him somewhere into a dark corner.

The club is not a place Namjoon would decide to spend his time on a Thursday night. Neither would you, you’re only here with your friends-who you abandoned, because you needed an escape. Something to get you to stop thinking about him. Of course, he would be here though. It’s as if the universe pulled you together, no matter how far you tried to run away.

Namjoon can’t take his eyes off of you. He heard you loud and clear but all he’s thinking about is the nickname at the end of your statement. It always sounds so sweet when you say it. Everything you do drives him mad. He didn’t have a choice. It’s been this way from the moment you looked at him. He remembers the day vividly- but it isn’t the time to reminisce. He’s focused on now.

“You missed everything I said…I’m here because of you. I don’t care if I should be or not. I don’t care if it’s not my usual place to kick it at either. I’m here for you.” He reiterates.

He knows you understand. You’re just doing the thing you always do- putting up a wall.

“How long are you in town for?” You sigh. You can’t even believe you’re debating doing this. If only you didn’t want him just as bad.

“Tomorrow afternoon.” He’s searching your eyes. He needs you.

“This isn’t a good idea and you know that…” you roll your bottom lip through your teeth and shake your head before making eye contact with him.

He tilts his head, mimicking the same facial expression you’ve just given him.

“Fuck it. I don’t care. You can leave me after…I can’t stop thinking about you.” He’s pleading at this point but he’s never been too proud to do that either- not when it comes to you.

“Please.” He mutters looking at you. You’re screwed. You were the moment he walked in. You knew that too.

“Fuck it. Take me to your place.” You say. You’ve never been good at pushing him away. Every attempt is always a failure.

Namjoon wastes no time. The quicker he can get you alone, the quicker you can be skin-to-skin. Molded together and intertwined. He sticks his hand out for you to place yours in, and leads you out of the club.

The ride to his place is filled with no words, but tons of sexual tension. You wish you could convince him to stay with you- long term. You have always told yourself to be selfless, let him chase his dreams, and support him as best as you can, so you won’t interfere. You can’t deny it though. Namjoon has always been everything you want in a man. Smart, determined, well-mannered, good in bed, He’s your earth in every sense of the word.

Even now, your enamored as you watch his jaw clench as he parks the car. You reach to undo your seatbelt but Namjoon stops you.

“Come closer.” He says in a low tone, motioning you with his finger closer to his face.

He’s losing his composure. He really is just like you. Eager for what awaits. You do as he says and lean closer, brushibg your nose against his but right before he can make a move. You giggle and send his heart into a frenzy.

“Look who’s all worked up. When I told you to take me to your place, I meant inside.” You plant a kiss on his nose and then open your door.

“Whatever you want, darling.” He chuckles and you have to refrain from jumping on him at that moment. He knows you like it when he calls you that.

Once you make it to the steps, that’s when the fun starts. Your lips are immediately on each other. Hungry, acting like starved animals. When he finally reaches his door he pulls away. He knows you are antsy by the way you’re attacking his neck sucking on his most sensitive spots. He swears, it’s never taken him this long to open a door, and once he finally hears the lock retract he pushes the door open, spins you around so you’re in front of him, picks you up, making you straddle him. Your hands immediately wrap around his neck as you continue kissing him all over.

“You’re fucking needy.” He says nudging your head up so your lips connect and throwing his keys across the counter. Sliding his shoes off and carrying you to the countertop.

“I am. I missed you.” You say, nothing but truth behind your statement.

honesty- a shared trait between you that he respects so much.

You reach for his belt buckle and start to unfasten it.

You only have until tomorrow, you’re not here to waste a second.

As your hands find a place in his briefs, Namjoon starts to remove your top. He’s trying not to rip it off but he fails- he’s eager and you can’t help but laugh again. flinging your hair behind your shoulders, and covering your chest.

“I missed you too.” He says and smiles at you. Capturing your heart, with his dragon-like eyes and deep dimples.

“The counter was a cute idea but, I think I want you in the bed.” He pulls your hands away from your chest, placing them on his shoulders.

He picks you up again and starts kissing you on the way to his bedroom. your low moans into the kiss aren’t helping him right now. He’s pretty sure he could come through his pants right now. He can’t wait any longer. He needs to taste you, to be in you. He could do this for days, but unfortunately, time is not his friend. So he tosses you onto the bed and removes his shirt. His body is glistening. Chest heaving up and down in anticipation.

“Joonie…” you sound just as desperate. Like you’ve been longing for him.

“Shh baby, I’m right here.” He says as he climbs on top of you. your lips reconnect and he pins your hands above your head.

“Take your time?” You ask and he nods as he starts kissing down your neck. He knows you hate when he marks you, but you also know him. He thinks it’s sexy when he can see the little bruises he leaves on you. Little reminders he etches in your skin before he has to leave. The sad part for you is that they are just like him- disappearing acts.

He slowly but surely makes his way to your bra and slides the straps down your shoulder.

“I missed hearing you say my name.” He says as he fully removes it, leaving open kisses down your body. Getting the response he wished for.

His hands slide up your skirt and he starts to rub you through your panties. You’re aching and he can feel you throbbing against his fingers.

“Joon, please…” you say as you moan, reaching and pushing his hand to apply more pressure.

He takes the hint and slides further down. Looking up at you with his lust filled eyes, kissing your waist, and slowly sliding down your skirt and panties. You’re now fully undressed underneath him. He loves the view. You’ve always been shy so once he sees you attempt to cover your chest for the second time, He restrains your arms again with his right hand.

“You’re the one who asked me to take my time, now look at who’s worked up.” He teases.

You lift up, and try to kiss him but he just smiles some more against your lips. As he parts your legs, he rubs up your thigh and then you feel his hand right where you need him.

He tilts his head as you both look each other in the eyes. Kissing you one last time, parting your lips, and smacking your pussy. Capturing the moan you let out in his mouth.

“Mmmmmmm.” You say as your eyebrows furrow in.

Fuck. Still vulnerable, still responsive. He thinks to himself. He wants to be the only person who can make you feel like this.

He pulls himself away and immediately puts his face where he belongs. He

“Oh fuck.” You gasp at the pleasure as your breath hitches in your throat.

He takes his time eating you out. Like it might be the last time, you both know it never is because you can’t seem to walk away. He enjoys the way you squirm underneath him. The head pushes telling him you need more, the way you moan his name out in repetition. He could never let you go. Not when you show him how good he makes you feel.

“Joon, oh my god…right there.”

He follows the instructions you give. Sliding a finger into you, pumping it in and out as you continue with your whimpers and cries of pleasure. He adds another finger and glides into you, a steady rhythm of penetration and the gentle force from his tongue, sends you over the edge. He laps up your juices that he knows he’s responsible for. You only cum like this for him. You’re his no matter how much time you spend apart.

“Come here…” you say panting.

He climbs back up your legs and kisses you in the mouth. Lightly smacking your clit as he does. You just came but Namjoon knows you have more.

“Joonie …”

“Hmm.”

“Mmm, I wanna cum with you.” You say. Eyes rolling back feeling yourself close yet again since he is still playing with your pussy. You want to be with him like this for longer. Be in his arms for longer. Cum for him anytime he wants you to.

“You sure you’re ready?” He asks and you nod.

“Yes, if you don’t stop I’m gonna cum.” You say finally having the energy to move his hand which earns you a laugh from the man hovering above you.

He removes his pants all the way finally. You were just as desperate as him. Like usual.

You set yourself up on your elbows to take at the sight in front of you.

“You’re bad.” You say biting your lip and looking him up and down.

“Could say the same about you.” He says as he crawls back over to you. He takes his time lining himself up to be inside the walls most familiar to him.

“I can’t stay away from you.” He admits and your heart nearly breaks. You give him a small smile. You know you can’t either.

“Hurry up. I miss-.”

You both moan upon his entrance. He’s looking you right in the eyes as he pumps in and out of you. Watching the way you cream, it feels like every time he removes himself there’s more of you spilling out onto him.

“Damn baby, look at us…” He says and you meet his gaze.

“You can’t look at me like that.” You say in between your moans

“You don’t mind.” He’s right, you don’t. But you should- you’ll miss him again. You don’t need the visual of him looking like this engraved in your mind but, it’s better than the memory you’ll have when he leaves tomorrow you tell yourself.

His deep and slow strokes make you feel so full.

“This is so much better than the club.” You say and you look into his eyes and he can’t help but give you a grin.

He reaches for your left hand and intertwines it with his.

“Yeah?” He asks as you moan out and put your free hand on his bicep that’s caging you in.

“Yeah, I hate the club.” You double down on your statement because it’s true. In more ways than one. You hate the club because it isn’t your scene. You hate the club because it isn’t going to help you forget Namjoon, it’ll bring you to him for whatever reason. The universe always puts him in your orbit.

Your pussy is milking him for everything he has, creaming all over him, If he wouldn’t have showed up- he doesn’t even want to think about that. A day without being inside of you always feels like years have passed by. Months feel like centuries.

“Fuck Joonie… just like that.” You moan out and he can’t stop himself from pecking your lips afterwards.

“You are my brightest star. Did you know that?” He says as he listens to your moans. They’re so soft, so alluring.

“I- I’m close.” You manage to muster up and he nods.

“I know baby, I can tell by the way you’re squeezing me. Shit” He isn’t too far off either.

“You’re gonna cum with me, right baby?” You ask and he nods.

He hurries and presses his lips to yours, thrust getting sloppy and lazy.

Your breath gets caught In your throat as you feel the knot deep in your stomach unravel.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He chants out as he empties himself inside of you.

He collapses onto your chest and you stroke his hair. Then the air gets heavy. You can feel it- time is going to run out.

“That was amazing, as always.” You say and he slowly pulls out of you and lays flat on his back. Eyes facing the ceiling before he glances over and looks at you.

“Be my girlfriend? No more of this not knowing how long it’ll take to see each other bullshit. I want you. I’d ask you more romantically but I just … I don’t want you to walk out of the door and me not know what’s next. I want to come home to you. I don’t care about anything else.” He’s serious and it’s everything you wanted to hear, but you’re quiet.

You’re scared. That must be the reason for your silence he assumes.

“You want me? You’re not worried about the public?”

He was right. You are scared. So he grabs your hand and kisses it softly.

“I’ll protect you from anyone, anything. No. I’m not worried, because I need you and I don’t care

who likes it or not.” He says as he reaches for your hand and kisses the back of it.

“Well then I’m Namjoon’s girlfriend then.” You say

Smiling but you’re not done yet

“Promise me you’ll still be the same person you are. I can’t handle anything else.”

He chuckles and pulls you into him.

“People change baby we need to grow but my love won’t unless it’s for the better.” He states matter of factly.

“Love?” You ask as you search his eyes.

“Love.” He says and you nod.

A kiss sealing the deal. Passionate, Fiery, but also just as soft as flower petals- just like the man who is now yours to claim.

“Mmm, princess can I tell you something?” He says as he pulls away.

“Anything.”

“I think love the club.” He says chuckling and you can’t help but laugh.

“It brought me the best sex of my life and my dream boyfriend, I might suddenly love the club too.” You say as you cup his face.

“Love?” He ask in the same tone as you did previously.

“Love,” you say stealing a kiss and sealing the deal.

A/n : let’s be fr. I love a happy ending lol

253 notes · View notes

pedgito · 4 months

Text

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Five: Mr. Miller

Chapter Summary: Years later, you find yourself with choices that feel impossible. And of course, Joel Miller is there at the root of them. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (formerly), time jump, joel is a successfully published writer, reunions, drinking, semi-public sex in a bathroom, m!oral, unprotected piv, job proposals, ambiguous endings

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

Word doesn’t travel, thankfully. It’s handled swiftly, quietly. Mostly be the discrepancies of Joel, who allows himself to take the full responsibility—for you, for him, and definitely not for Tess.

You’re not sure what expels in the office after you leave that night, other than the gradually rising voices of the troubled couple and Joel–he sounds tired, exasperated, done before Tess can get a word in edgewise. But, you don’t linger much longer.

Joel, however, can’t seem to grasp something to anchor him down, feeling himself slip into a quiet rage. Tess forces the ultimatum on him that night. Either he owns up to, tells her everything, or she would make the divorce hell. He knew she was capable of being vindictive, but he never thought it would be aimed at him. And he knew it all boiled down to him never forgiving her own undue and unjust actions. A bitterness that lingered, festered, and now that she had caught him in his own mess, like he had to her, it was too poetic for her to let things go.

Joel resigns a few weeks later, your interaction minimal—he doesn’t even speak directly to you anymore. He feels like he’s being watched, judged, under constant scrutiny. The reality was that no one knew what had transpired, but it felt louder than ever. The rest of the year is quiet and dull, but you manage.

And the months that follow, they’re fine. But, the spark you had for literature then, even if slightly skewed by Joel and his nefarious obsession with you, never really returns.

The divorce comes several months later for Joel—it isn’t quiet. It’s messy, it’s difficult. Despite his willingness to comply with Tess’s conditions over his pseudo-fling with you, she goes back on her word. Eventually though, he cuts his ties and moves on. And it shouldn’t freak him out that he sees your face in his mind every night after nearly a year of knowing you, but it’s the way he’s memorized every detail about you that paints itself in vivid pictures.

Eventually things get easier and you move on, but Joel can’t bring himself to forget.

He leaves a voicemail on the day of your graduation, a couple years passed, and he still knows—he memorized the day and even if it was without intention, he still feels the pull. To explain or apologize. Something.

He can’t explain why he’s so hung up on the moments he shared with you until the words begin to pour out. And you find yourself curled up on your bed the night of graduation, exhausted mentally, emotionally, physically—but then you see his name on your phone and you break.

You press play on the voicemail and place the phone on the bed.

‘I really…don’t know if you’ll even listen to this. I don’t expect you to, but I wanted to apologize. I manipulated a shitty situation to my advantage to forget my own problems. The shit going on within my own marriage. That wasn’t your fault…and you’re young. I shouldn’t have entertained it and I did. I liked the attention. The attention you gave me and it was wrong. If you ever want to…I don’t know, talk things out? I would like that, but I understand if you ignore this completely. I would too. A long, drawn out breath that delves into a sigh. Uh, congratulations on the graduation. I’m sorry this took so long for me to say. Yeah…anyways, goodbye.”

The abrupt ending is bittersweet, rolling your eyes at his tone. It’s clipped, void of emotion. He’s masking and you can hear it. It only pisses you off further, unable to believe the genuineness in his message or tone so no—you don’t give him the chance to talk it out. And Joel Miller fades from your mind from then on, a distant and bitter memory.

Three Years Later

Working at a local publication company in Austin was never the plan, but it was the fastest thing you could grasp after graduation and several failed internships later—and the money was decent. You had an apartment in the city, close to work, and an easier turnaround time when you needed to get something to the office on an emergency or whim.

You were a lower level employee, editing and working around the simpler marketing for author’s that—most of the time, you didn’t even know the name of. You were meant to take the brunt of the work before it was delivered to the actual team of publication for everything that they didn’t want to handle. Which often included lunch as well, daily, coffee orders every morning, and tasks that felt never ending.

But the one time you did receive a break was the publishing parties. Authors would throw a nice party for the team and a long, never-ending list of connections that led for it to be more of a schmoozy get together than anything.

You went for the alcohol, the food, and the entertainment.

Which, thankfully—they all proved to have a ton of.

So, it should be any other Friday when you walk into the bar downtown, filled to the brim with patrons and company people who were there in attendance and support of the author, who you still had yet to meet. You’d been working on the book for months now, getting small snippets of things to correct and proofread when you weren’t running around to fetch things, but sometimes the curiosity is really just too much.

You grab a drink first, sipping on the sweet mix of liquor and syrup as the people filter in and spread, conversing in a low hum that quickly divulges into a cheer as someone makes their way through the door. They’re muffled by the crowd, loud pats of congratulation and claps that aren’t entirely necessary—but everyone had been anticipating the book to be a best-seller in record time. A book of delicate poetry, beautiful and thoughtful. It was something that brought you back to a time long forgotten, sitting in your bed during your freshman year of college, flitting through the recommendations of a professor that had nearly disappeared off the face of the earth.

So, when your eyes land on Joel Miller as he pushes through the crowd, the pit in your stomach grows and swells to an unbearable size.

He’s different in every way but still inexplicably him—he seemed softer, relaxed. His hair was grown out and curling over his ears and down his forehead, curls tickling against his skin and he sported a full beard, more than he ever allowed himself while he worked as your professor the interim year he was there, patchy in places you don’t realize until he comes closer, still unaware of your presence.

You recognize the suit, though—he’s worn it a million times, week after week and it feels too overwhelming now, knowing you both had left things unfinished.

Your intentions then weren’t the same as now and you’re almost positive he could say the same—even if you did keep your vindictive streak to get things you wanted, Joel was the only person who had managed to push you in a way that brought out that side of you.

You turn on your heels as a woman catches his attention, smiling brightly and too touchy to be considered a stranger, your back facing him now. You wave and smile at a few passing co-workers, also giving a small murmur of congratulations to Joel before you feel a hand on your back, half ready with your hand balled into a fist before you hear his voice over your shoulder.

It’s a soft whisper of your name, irreverent fondness in his tone, “How’s the open bar?”

He’s folding a jacket over his arm as he squeezes into the small space between you and another person, palm flattened out against the bar as he awaits your answer.

And for once, you don’t have anything to say.

Your mouth opens once, twice, before quietly snapping shut.

Joel breaks out into a slight smile, “I saw your name on the guest list—I just thought I’d say hi.”

“I didn’t—” You take a shallow breath and press the half-empty glass against the surface, “I don’t usually know anything about who we’re working on publication for, if I had known…I just—”

His hand is a gentle press against your clothed arm, curling around your bicep, “Hey—no harm, no foul. Did you…like my book, at least?”

You chuckle softly, “Uh—yeah, of course. I think that goes without saying. I almost got fired for not providing enough notes when they asked, but I didn’t feel like anything needed to be changed.”

Joel smiles brighter, but his lack of response is palpable.

He nods, pointing at your drink, “Take advantage—seein’ as it’s paid for.”

And you feel the moment fleeing as he turns away for a brief moment and orders his own drink, thankful for the short moment of calm as he didn’t have to constantly talk shop, so your curiosity gets the better of you. You didn’t know when you would ever see him again now that he was standing in front of you—unfinished business and all.

“How are things?” You ask—it’s a vague question that without your past would seem harmless. But, Joel understands. He spots the worry in your brow where it creases subtly in the middle and he chews at his bottom lip, taking the drink that is slipped into his hand.

His ring finger is still bare and he raises the hand up, curled around the glass with eyes that peek over the rim, squinting at your playfully, feigning innocence.

“Good,” He tells you when brings his drink down to his chest, “Uh—some roadblocks trying to get back into writing but…it’s been alright. And Tess, she’s—I don’t really know how she is but we also haven’t spoken in over two years. Last thing I heard was that she was getting engaged.”

Your eyes widen by the sudden influx of information, surprised by how forthright and open Joel was being, “Oh—that’s…good? For her, I guess.”

Joel chuckles softly and raises his eyebrows in response, agreeing with the uncertainty in your statement. You had grown so accustomed to his small quirks and body language that it was coming back to you in waves, like they had never left. But, the booming voice of a few men on the other side of the bar grab Joel’s attention and he looks slightly disturbed of his peace but offers a quiet apology before leaving you alone, left to process what the fuck was happening.

For someone you haven’t seen in a few years, it shouldn’t make you feel so at ease in their presence and you hate the way it lingers and aches the moment he leaves. The same push and pull that you felt so long ago, it’s overwhelming.

You finish your drink quietly, watching the warm, orange sky morph into nightfall and you attempt to slink out quietly, having had your fill on alcohol and surprises for the night. And the activity in the bar had only ramped up more in the lingering time—but the fingers around your wrist stop you, stretching through the crowd as you spin slowly on your heels.

“Follow me?” Joel asks lowly in the space between you when you turn to him, difficult to hear under the roar of the crowd but he nudges his head in a far off direction and you nod, feet moving before your brain can process.

Joel yanks you gently into a small, unisex bathroom with a stall in the corner. It’s big enough that you can rest against an opposite wall while he presses up against the door, looking slightly flushed from the alcohol but calm—it’s strange seeing him now, outside of the setting of his work.

Also, time had passed and he’s grown and processed things in the interim.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask about you,” He begins—Joel had only wanted a quiet place to talk to you, bothered by the idea of you the entire night for more than a few reasons, but most importantly, he just needed to know, “how…things have really been?”

“I graduated, but I’m sure you know that,” You tell him, his gaze trailing down as he remembers the half-assed message and apology he left you, “got a job after way too many attempts and failing and I’m living in an apartment here in Austin, it’s a few blocks away from the publishing company. It’s not bad—I thought things would be easier. But… I can’t complain. I mean, I could—there’s really no point, though.”

Joel’s nostrils flair in amusement as his chest vibrates with a laugh, hands tucked behind him as he leaned against the surface, suit jacket having disappeared…somewhere. Now, it was the tight pull of his chest under his shirt, the gaps in his buttons covered by the long stretch of his tie.

You cross your arms gently, one leg hooking over the other as you lean the weight of your shoulder into the wall similarly, the cold breeze of the unheated bathroom brushing against your thighs and you were silently cursing yourself for wearing such a short skirt in the biting cold weather at the end of fall, rolling into winter with a force.

“I can see that hasn’t changed.” Joel comments slyly and you squint your eyes in his direction, wondering his angle. Truthfully, he didn’t have one.

You roll your eyes momentarily, biting away the smile that creeps onto your face as you look away briefly, distracted by the buzzing, overly luminescent light above your head. The tension between you two had never left, that much was apparent.

“So, how has single life been?” You ask, feeling silly at the way you word it, but given his openness to tease you so easily, you felt the need to do it back.

Joel begins with a subtle warning of your name that has you huffing out a laugh of indifference.

“What?” You say in playful defense, “It’s just a question. You don’t have to answer it.”

Joel shakes his head fondly, though the bitter memories begin to flood back.

“I’m not your student anymore,” You point out, “it’s not like you’re breaking any rules by talking to me. It’s been…years, Joel. I think we’re both different people by now.”

Were you? That was entirely debatable.

“It’s been fine.” Joel gives you as little detail as possible, which is a telltale sign that he was masking, but you can’t ignore the way his eyes drag over your figure even if for a brief second.

You nod in response, not pushing the topic any longer.

“So, what’s this about?”

Joel makes a small noise in question and you tilt your head accusingly, lips pursed into a sneaky smile.

“I was on my way out,” You tell him, “now I’m here—with you. So, what’s the deal?”

“I wanted to catch up,” Joel admits–though it’s mostly a lie, “is that a crime?”

“Mmm, but here’s the problem,” You counter him, “you’re not really doing much talking. You ask some lame, basic question to cover up whatever excuse you had to get me in here. Seriously, Joel—what’s up?”

Joel sighs, chin touching his chest as he stares at the floor, “Still so goddamn stubborn.”

It’s like a trigger, soles patting against the ground as you approach him. His gaze pulls up slowly, first at your feet, then your chest, until he lands on your face. Delicate fingers press against his chest, his arms falling to his side as you press in closer and trace your fingers upwards, brush against his jawline.

You grin at the way Joel swallows tensley under your gaze, opposite hand wrapping into the length of his tie and pulling him into you, pressing your lips against his without another thought.

This kiss was new, different. Like pressing lips against a stranger with a renewed interest, not entwined in the throes of his divorce and a shitty marriage that kept him tied down and riddled with guilt, he kisses back with a force, boring conversation long forgotten.

Deft fingers turn the lock silently, a faint click of recognition as Joel leads you toward the empty stall with roaming hands, coat brushed down your shoulders and draped over a nearby hand dryer as he huddles you into the small space and watches as you pull away briefly to lock it with a giddy smile, lip pulled between your teeth as the lock slips into place and he stares at you openly, an unhinged hunger behind his eyes that he attempted to keep it bay so long ago.

“I have an idea.” Your voice is creeping suspicion in Joel’s mind and he sees your smile soften, an undertone in the wait as your fingers stretch along the expanse of his neck, leaning into him fully as he presses against the opposite wall of the stall, faces only a few millimeters apart as you breathe into him, noses brushing gently.

“That sounds like trouble.” Joel admits, your eyes dilating under his gaze as your excitement reaches your eyes, skin wrinkling slightly at the corners as you laugh.

“I don’t know,” You reply airily, “I think you’ll like this one.”

Joel’s game, eyebrows raised in question as you descend slowly—for anyone else, offering up a blowjob on the floor of a shoddy, questionable bathroom, you’d immediately decline and foremost, wouldn’t even offer. But, this was Joel.

The Joel that, despite years of time between his company, still culminated at the forefront of your mind all of the sudden. Fleeting memories, things that threatened to remind you of him, a bitter afterthought. But now, it was sweet—tangible and finally within reach. You were seizing the opportunity to close things out, even if you knew you would never see him again.

And damn his months of unintentional abstinence, Joel is unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants at an embarrassing speed with the assistance of your eager hands, instantly cradling your head as you wrestle with the few layers of fabric before his cock is heavy in your hands and hardening with even the minimalist of touch, his mouth hung open slightly as your tongue press flat against the underside of his cock, tracing along the jut of a vein that leads to his head, circling as you pull taut at his shaft and reacting openly to the tight squeeze he gives to your jaw, eyes falling shut with a gasp as he urges with silence for you to put him out of his misery and take his cock into your mouth.

Enough teasing. He knew you were both far beyond that.

There’s a lightness to your movements, inhibitions slightly skewed. You suck at his cock greedily, hollowing out your cheeks and allowing your hand to cover the length of his shaft that your mouth can’t reach and the hand that isn’t cradling your face is pressed against the stall door for leverage. There’s a crease in his forehead from how hard he’s scrunching his face up, willing himself to focus albeit how overwhelming you are in the moment and then you’re speaking to him, needy and soft.

“Look at me Joel,” You plead, tip brushing against your lips as you kiss the head and take him once more, bobbing your head slowly as he opens his eyes, and that familiar heat sets in his gaze, “there’s nothing to worry about this time—it’s just us.”

His hand is a soothing touch against your jaw, slowly trailing until his palm is cradling your head, “That’s—hm, that’s the problem. Don’t have much time.” Oh, right. This was his party after all.

“Riiiight,” You reply snarkily when you pull, feeling the gentle squeeze of his fingers against your neck as his hand settles there and rests, “guest of honor and all that, I suppose.”

Joel wasn’t letting you go that easy, though. He pushes you away gently and helps you rise to your feet, a slow progress of crowding you against the corner adjoining the stall door and the wall and his fingers slip under your skirt, digging into the supple skin of your thighs and he breathes, takes in your scent as he buries his face into your neck and he groans, so soft you almost don’t hear it. Almost.

“You still like fucking college girls? Or was that a one time thing?” You tease, earning another less than gentle squeeze before his hand is traveling down your center and over the wet fabric of your panties, covered with your slick and you moan out—guilty, and he settles with pulling them to the side for quick access, dipping a finger inside of you and chuckling at how familiar it feels, walls squeezing around the digit and you huff, “Dirty old man, Mr. Miller.”

“Just one. Annoying little brat that she is.” Joel admits, his stiff cock prodding at your thigh as he slips another finger inside of you, your grip tightening against the fabric stretched over his shoulders, head banging deftly against the surface behind you as you moan, “And just so we’re clear—don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

It never really fit him anyways.

“Got it.” You reply softly, staring at him half-lidded as his thumb brushes over your clit and he’s so close—right fucking there, dick pressed against your thigh but he won’t cross that line, not unless you ask. Luckily, you’re selfish even under a time crunch, “Joel—need it.”

“Need what, baby?” His breath is hot against your ear as he mouths at your skin sloppily, fingers leaving you empty as they rub collectively over your sensitive clit, “Such a beautiful way with words, let me hear you say it.”

“Fuck—” You breath rough, a sharp breath, “your cock, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Fortunately, Joel’s never been more impatient as he pulls your thigh up and over his hip, his fingers holding the fabric of your panties to the side as he presses inside of you steadily, selfishly watching your reaction as he splits you open—a stark difference from the first time. He was disconnected, emotionless, trying to prove a point. But, this was so much more.

It was everything he couldn’t say before.

“Stop—stop that,” You laugh softly, fingers gripping over the edge of the stall as he Joel fucks into you with sharp, precise thrusts. He was searching, determined that no time was wasted, but still admiring the catch of a gasp or moan in your throat every time he hit a particular spot inside of you that rendered you nearly speechless, “stop looking—at me like that.”

And Joel has the gull to smirk, lip pulling between his teeth as he angles you back and hikes your thigh up a fraction and that—oh, that was perfect and your grip slips and falls to his chest, wrinkling the fabric under your tight grasp as he leans in, lips pressed unmoving against your own as he thrusts into you wildly, the deafening sound of skin against skin and noises breathed into each other’s mouths.

“Touch yourself, baby,” He pleads and you thought the first time was a one off, a slip of the tongue in such a heated moment but it rings in your ears and warms your body with a faint buzz of adoration and allowed yourself to feel special and reserved only to him for that moment, “come with me?”

You reply with a shaky nod, feeling his hand guide yours between your bodies and settle over your cunt, rubbing over your clit in quick and determined circles as he spoke soft praises against your skin.

Good girl, sweet thing, look so pretty like this while you’re taking my cock.

And you’re hit with an immense rush of emotion as you come around him, his thrusts faltering in time with your cunt as you squeeze around him, “Fuck—I’m gonna come, gonna—” He pulls his hips back slightly but you’re reeling him back in with your heel, offering a small head shake.

Inside, you plead wordlessly.

It does him in—hand grazing over your breasts, tongue dipping into your mouth as he squeezes at the flesh and snaps his hips one last time, coming inside of you with a long, drawn out groan that precedes a long moment of silence as you both come down in synchronized breaths.

Joel hasn’t moved either, cock still buried inside of you but slowly softening.

“Work for me,” He says suddenly, head resting against the wall as he looks at you, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his fingers massaging the sore muscles in your thigh, “please?”

Your brow furrows tiredly, “What?”

“Come and work for me,” He asks once more, “I can offer you a job.”

“Joel, that’s—”

You whine softly at the loss of him as he slips out of you, but silently thankful for your achy muscles—and you think Joel will leave it at that, but he’s taking your face between his hands, urging you to look at him, “Look at me and tell me you’re happy there.”

You swallow a lump in your throat and look back at him, the words perched on your tongue.

You couldn’t lie to him. Not about this.

“I saw your name weeks ago—” Joel removes his hands and redresses slowly, watching as you adjust yourself to a more presentable manner, despite the feeling of his cum dampening your panties even more than they were before, “thought I was fuckin’ hallucinating.”

Still, you’re not sure where it’s coming from. Three years of silence and now this, his cum dripping down your legs and a proposition that sounds far too good to be true.

“I need an assistant,” He admits, “Someone to help me keep track of all this shit. Everyone I’ve hired, it just doesn’t stick.

You unlock the door behind your back and file out, watching Joel stuff his shirt back into his pants with a little too much force, shifting from heel to heel as he walks, “So, you’re desperate? And you thought fucking me would help your chances?”

You’re teasing him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Immediately, his head snaps up, eyes full of concern that you misconstrued his intentions and he knows he’s fucked up again—again. He fucks up everything.

“I’m fucking with you.” You crack a gentle smile and his hammering heart slows.

“I need someone who won’t bullshit me about my writing,” Joel tells you, “real—honest feedback. Someone that knows me.”

Your hands fall behind your back, fingers interlocking as you step toward him again, playfully kicking your foot out at him, “So, the whole blind worship thing, kissing ass—it’s not for you? Because…that can be arranged too, I don’t mind.”

He says your name in warning and you pull back with a soft laugh, “I can give you a bigger picture tomorrow, after��all this. We can work things out. You can sign an official contract. I’m not trying to play you on this.”

And maybe history was repeating itself, something Joel refused to acknowledge.

“Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” You ask, allowing Joel to adjust the flap of your jacket over your chest as you slip it back onto your body, “Teacher…student…boss…”

You don’t have to fill in the rest. Joel’s pointer finger trails up the center of your chest, nudging at your chin and pulling your attention in, lips parted slightly.

“I can keep things professional,” Joel lies, “can you?”

You mouth a silent no as you shake your head and his thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to write a few stipulations into the agreement.”

“I never said I agreed,” You retorted playfully, “did I?”

“Suppose I’ve got a bit of convincing to do then,” Joel smirks, “—is your number still the same?”

You shrug innocently—of course it was and truthfully, Joel never had the thought to delete it. Letting it gather dust in his contacts, finger hovering over it from time to time. Wondering.

“You still have my email,” Joel laughs at that, barely, cracking a gentle smile, “send me the details—I’ll let you know if I’m interested.”

“And if there’s any way I can sweeten that interest—”

You lean in mockingly, eyes looking over his facial expression, clearly amused with himself as your nose brushes against each other and you speak into the quiet space between you both.

“Keep it in your pants, alright? I’ll consider it.”

Joel couldn’t let you slip through his fingers, not again.

But, you knew you were doomed from the moment he set eyes on you.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #professor!joel miller #miller's girl #my writing

299 notes · View notes

depravitycentral · 10 days

Text

General Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto Profile

Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto x reader

TW: kidnapping, possessiveness, mentions of stalking, mentions of masturbation, allusions to somnophilia, Stockholm Syndrome, emotional manipulation, Ko uses you as his emotional support system, delusional behavior, nonconsensual physical affection/touch, vague allusions to non-con, mentions of physical abuse, Kotarou is extremely emotionally needy and physically touchy and just generally quite a handful, mentions of insecurity, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Introverted

Koutarou is a lot. He knows it, his team knows it, hell, the entire league knows it.

His energy is difficult to match; he’s a ray of sunshine, blinding yet impossible to look away from, someone with boundless amounts of energy, someone friendly and extraverted to an almost extreme.

Because he is so rambunctious and loud, he would actually really enjoy a partner who mellows him out a bit more, someone who isn’t constantly hyper and talkative and wanting to spend hours on end with other people.

He works well with Akaashi; who is quiet, calm and not as talkative, and his darling would likely reflect that in many ways – the serenity, the sense of peace and calmness, the idea that they aren’t constantly jumping with energy, constantly bursting at the seams to go do something.

Ideally though, he’d enjoy a partner who is still willing to talk, who’s willing to indulge him in conversation and compliment him and give him that adorable smile, just not a social butterfly like himself. It makes him feel privileged, special because his darling wants to speak to him, that they’re using their precious social battery on him him him.

He’s in awe that they start conversations with him; his darling, who so often doesn’t utter a word around crazy people such as himself, who sees someone as hyper as him and immediately run for the hills.

It makes his ego flare, and he can’t deny how adorable they are when they get embarrassed at his attention, when they roll their eyes and shove his shoulder lightly, when they freeze and cower as he loudly proclaims his love for them in the middle of the movie theater and everyone looks over.

He loves it, and it’s a nice bonus that it cuts down his competition - less dirty work for him, something Koutarou is very thankful for.

Creative

Volleyball is Kotarou’s life, and as a result he hasn’t had much time to explore anything outside of it. He’s never really tried his hand at painting, playing an instrument, baking, or really any other hobby.

And of course he loves the sport dearly, but there’s something alluring to the idea of a darling that’s invested in something so completely different from himself.

It doesn’t matter what the hobby is - cooking, drawing, writing, singing, it could be anything at all.

But once Kotarou finds out his darling enjoys it, suddenly he becomes obsessed with it, wanting to learn as much as he can and hone as many talents within it as possible. In his eyes, everything his darling does is perfect, so the thing that they love most (aside from him, of course) must be amazing, right? It must be worth his time to learn about it and become familiar with it, if only just to impress his darling, if only just to share even a scrap of the love they feel for it.

He’ll beg and pester his darling to teach him, constantly asking questions and carefully watching their answers.

Because rally, while Kotarou develops an interest in the activity because of his darling’s love, he also becomes familiar with the hobby because he lives for the way their eyes light up when they’re concentrating. They look absolutely gorgeous, even more beautiful than normal, something sparkling in their eyes.

His knees grow weak when he sees them biting their lip or sticking out their tongue in concentration, his feelings only growing ten-fold and becoming stronger because it’s just so incredibly endearing that his darling has something they love enough to be this devoted.

They get this ethereal glow about them and Kotarou genuinely can’t take his eyes off of them when they’re in that mode.

And so instead of listening to their instructions, he finds himself drifting into fantasies of them finally getting that glow and radiance when thinking about him. It’s what fuels him, what gives him energy.

He just wants his darling to adore him in the way that he adores them.

Nurturing

If his darling is anything, they have to be supportive.

Poor Kotarou is in constant need of reassurance, and his darling has to be willing to put up with that. They have to be willing to deal with the emotional labor of constantly praising him, of telling him wonderfully talented he is, how funny, how charming, how handsome, any and all compliments they can think of.

Their kind words go straight to his heart, making his body feel fuzzy and warm, an unstoppable grin stretches across his face and his words excited as he asks them really? Are you sure?

He’s overwhelmed by the idea of his darling thinking such thoughts about him - they think he’s strong? They think he’s talented? They think he’s amazing?

Needless to say, a few simple words of praise from his darling are enough to get Kotarou’s entire mood shifting, his metaphoric feathers ruffling and a pleasant, gooey feeling in his heart making him feel lighter than air because oh, they think he’s attractive and fun to be around?

He loves how easily they’re able to make him feel good about himself, and he can only hope to return the favor.

As a result, he’ll compliment his darling often, completely out of the blue and about odd, but strangely endearing things. He just wants them to feel how good they make him feel, and he’ll do anything to get them there.

Competitive

While his darling needs to be someone capable of spilling praise at a moment’s notice, Kotarou also finds himself attracted to those who has a healthy sense of competition in life.

As a professional athlete, he takes competition very seriously, and is also the type to find that a bit of competition is the perfect thing to spice up a relationship. He loves the idea of having a friendly rivalry with his darling – perhaps at something entirely stupid, like mini-golf or slugbugging or something equally childish.

Regardless, he likes the idea of his darling and him being playful together, of having someone he can establish that teasing rapport with. Besides, while he can sometimes be a bit of an emotional wreck, Kotarou finds emotional intelligence extremely attractive.

Thus, having a partner that’s capable of gracefully winning and losing is wildly attractive to him – they’re able to regulate themselves and put others’ thoughts and feelings into perspective.

He cares too much about other people to have a darling with little to no awareness of others’ feelings, and to have a darling that manages to merge in this awareness alongside a healthy appetite for competition and teasing?

Well, Kotarou finds himself falling hard and fast, loving the idea of a darling who’s so mature yet so wonderfully immature – perfect for someone like him.

(And, though he isn’t consciously thinking about it, perfect for a mother – he won’t explicitly bring up the topic of marriage and children, but he enters every relationship with the thought in mind, always hopeful that perhaps he’s finally found the right woman. And lucky him, he has – his wonderful, wonderful darling.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

He’s naturally quite affectionate with those around him, for better or worse. He’s always looking for someone to talk to, hang out with, goof around with, and once his feelings for you form, so lovely and horrible and overwhelming, this trait is only amplified.

It only increases monumentally with the absolute need to constantly be around you, to have your attention solely on him because god, seeing your pretty eyes focused on him makes his heart race so fast he thinks he’s dying.

He wants you to be looking at him at all times, thinking about him every minute of the day, be craving him as much as he craves you. He wants you to daydream about him smiling at you, making you bite your lip and stare at the ground while you fight back a flustered, school-girl-esque grin because god, isn’t he just so dreamy?

He wants you to be fantasizing about hugging him, feeling his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body while he nuzzles into your neck, whispering your name in a hoarse voice that gets you shivering and nudging your thighs together because fuck, how can anyone sound that good?

Honestly, the idea of you thinking of him is enough to have him grinning with his eyes squeezed shut, a slight flush on his cheeks as he pumps his fist and lets out a victorious laugh.

(There have been quite a few instances of you patting him on the back, albeit awkwardly, to which he responded with a resounding hey, hey, hey! that sounded much too close to a moan and raised his fist to the sky – you’ve never understood why his voice gets all high and shaky like that, but somehow it seems you’d rather not know the answer.)

He thrives on your physical touch, your sweet words and glossy eyes staying fixed on him, and you’ll quickly notice how Koutarou always seems to just be around, how those golden eyes never really seem to leave, his gray and black hair standing out in your peripheral, followed shortly by a cheerful yell of your name and a bone crushing hug that makes you wheeze and shiver as you realize there’s something pressing into your thigh, oh god why is he hard and nuzzling his face into your neck and is he sighing?

It’s almost flattering at first – not expected, but sweet that he seems to feel so close to you, until it’s happening every day, every time he sees you – he’s always hugging you, holding your hand, ruffling your hair, calling you so cute, isn’t she Akaashi? Makes me wanna eat her right up!

It’s endearing and you’ll be flattered that a famous, attractive professional athlete is so obviously interested in you, but it becomes less and less endearing as time passes. It becomes less cute when he’s making some offhand comment about how you must’ve changed your shampoo – he distinctly remembers your hair smelling like strawberries, and now it has more of a lavender scent; but don’t worry, you smell great either way, cutie!

It becomes less flattering as he tells you while you’re being forced to sit in his lap as the team puts up the volleyball nets that you seemed like you were hesitant to come to practice with me today – is there something I don’t know about? Are you seeing someone else? What aren’t you telling me? It’s not nice to keep secrets from boyfriends, you know.

Quickly you’ll come to realize that Kotarou’s level of dependence on you is completely unwarranted for how close your relationship really is, but there isn’t much you can say to change this fact – he’s clingy, he needs your affection and attention, and when you ask Akaashi or Atsumu about it, about why he seems so needy and so obsessed with you, they’ll both write it off as Bokuto and his fleeting feelings, just his childish nature at work.

And when you try to confront him about it, to tell him that you’re uncomfortable with him suddenly springing up on you from behind, pinning you against a desk with his body looming over you while he inhales deeply and whispers about how pretty you look in your new skirt, he’ll just frown, pouting down at you while he whines about how he isn’t trying to be weird, that he just wants to show you how much he cares, how much he loves you.

He’ll only lean more weight on you, hug you tighter and whisper about how he knows you want this just as bad as he does, that it’s only normal for boyfriends to want to touch their girlfriends, to want to spend time with them and hear their compliments and care for each other.

It’s natural, he explains, to be always by your side, for you to never leave his field of vision – which is why you’ll find yourself coming to most MSBY practices and games decked out in the #12 spare jersey he not so subtly demanded you wear (that still very much has the fresh scent of a recent workout in it – something about pheromones and marking you, Kotarou had explained, with words too quick and slurred for you to really understand).

You’ll find yourself spending most of your meals either by his side or in his lap (trying to ignore the way a certain hardness presses against your ass if you move too much, if you’re squirmin’ so much cutiepie, you okay?).

You’ll be walked home everyday from your job and convinced to spend the evening with him, though he spends more time staring at you than watching the movie you’d thrown on.

And really, you can tell yourself every day that you’ll finally stand up to him, that you’ll finally end this bizarre, possessive behavior coming from a man you aren’t even dating, but each time you bring it up, those soft golden eyes will have you feeling like you’re kicking a puppy, his entire aura being shut down in a heartbeat at your stuttered I-I think we need to take some time apart…

Kotarou isn’t doing it on purpose, but you’ll be extremely hard pressed to ever really change the way he acts around you – it makes you feel too guilty, like you’re spinning the situation into so much more than it really is.

So, when you bite your lip and shake your head, giving him a shaky smile and telling him that you changed your mind, he’s beaming and letting out a cheer and scooping you into his arms to swing you around in circles, despite your demands that you must be too heavy to carry, that he’s making such a scene and the entire restaurant is staring and god, he just loves you so much, he knew you were meant for him and your acceptance only proves this!

It’s not so big a deal, right? Kotarou is mostly harmless, doesn’t mean anything weird by his touchiness, his desperation to be with you, right? It’s just a short term thing, soon his attention will move on, right?

Possessive

Kotarou, while incredibly empathetic and intuitive to other peoples’ emotions, does not handle his own especially well.

He’s terrible at stopping himself from having extreme highs and lows over the pettiest things, and this doesn’t stop at just volleyball, at just his normal life – no, his love for you is most definitely affected by this as well. Namely, in the form of jealousy; he’s a firm believer in faithfulness and loyalty, in the idea that you have one and only one partner, that they should be enough for you and that other men and women are essentially just background noise for the real one, the one that makes your heart race, your palms sweat and a lovely sort of nervousness to grow in the pit of your stomach.

He’s always believed in this, and once his infatuation with you forms, this philosophy most certainly doesn’t change; if anything, he clings onto the idea with frantic fingers, clutching at the concept of you looking at no one else for any reason whatsoever.

He’s plagued with the fear that someone will try and interfere with your relationship, that someone will come along and try and tear the two of you apart – he’s terrified of losing you, of losing who he genuinely believes to be his true love to some other man, to some other loser who decided you were pretty and would be a fun catch.

Kotarou is self-aware enough to know that he isn’t the ideal man, that you likely don’t love his mood swings, his habits of switching emotions quicker than you can likely keep up. He knows this, which is why it makes it so much more painful when that coworker of yours starts talking to you more, looking at you with such light and happy eyes, staring at you with what Kotarou is absolutely sure is a blush on his cheeks, when he’s leaning in way too much.

His possessiveness flares up especially in his sadder moments – when he’s already spiraling into a fit of self-doubt, it’s easy to read too far into any situation in which your gaze flickers over to another guy, easy to over examine the way you quickly apologize after bumping into a player on the opposite team in the hallway.

It’s so fucking easy to feel like his place as your rightful partner, as your lover and boyfriend and future husband is being threatened when he sees literally anyone approach you – because really, Kotarou can’t help but wonder if you’d like them more, if maybe you’re only nice to him and letting him hug you, compliment you, and everything else because you feel sorry for him, because you’re pitying him.

And it’s those thoughts that drive him to march up to you and pull you into his chest, to press your ear against his heart while he buries his face in your hair, tears streaming down his cheeks as he asks in a whisper if he’s still enough, if you’ve found someone else, if you even really love him.

And really, as disarming and disorienting as it is, there’s some part of you that will feel bad for him, that will want to comfort this man so obviously in need of praise, so obviously in need of someone to tell him that yes, he’s enough, yes you love him and you’ll always love him.

Even if it’s not true – even if it’s just something you’re saying out of a misplaced sense of guilt, even if it’s something you’ll find yourself horribly regretting the deeper into delusion Kotarou sinks. And so, as you promise that you do in fact want him, that you need him as badly as he needs you and that you’ll never, ever leave him, Kotarou slowly begins to relax, melting into your arms and trying to calm his ragged breaths, the racing of his heart, the tears flowing down his cheeks.

It’s difficult, but as he pulls back and sees your confused, beautiful fucking face, a small smile makes its way onto his lips, the knowledge that you’ll never leave him ringing in his head. Because really, how could he ever ask for anything more?

All he needs is you you you, and now that you’ve promised him, he’ll hold you to it. And when you’re trapped by his side some time later, those strong arms wrapped suffocatingly tight around your waist and his grin big and dopey and scary as he promises to never, ever let you leave his side, you’ll really only have yourself to blame. Because really, while Kotarou’s jealousy manifests mostly as self-deprication and an increased need for your reassurance and praise, ultimately you’ll be the one to push forward his dependence on you.

You’re the one telling him that he’s wonderful, that you’re not interested in any other men, that he’s every girl’s dream. It’s small things that slowly build up, feeding into Kotarou’s delusions until he’s too far gone to really even listen to you anymore; picking and choosing what he wants to hear from you, twisting your words into some grand declaration of love that gets him smiling like a fool, crushing you into his arms and leaving your lips bruised with the ferocity of his kisses.

You’re just so perfect, huh?

Delusional

But in an extremely specific way – on his own, Kotarou isn’t a particularly delusional man. He’s tied to his beliefs, yes, but he’s grounded and lucid enough to understand the importance of seeing multiple perspectives, of listening to others, of staying in touch with reality and not letting himself get too carried away.

And this is still true in the beginnings of his obsession – he knows that you’re just friends, that you have a budding friendship that he’d like to progress into something more, something deeper and more romantic in its origin. And he’s strict about this for a long time – going to Akaashi for dating advice or asking the ever-grumpy Sakusa how he thinks Kotarou should approach you.

(Akaashi gives much, much more insightful advice than his teammate, of course – telling Kotarou to take things slow and listen to what you want, to let you guide the pace and direction of the relationship. Sakusa merely scoffs and tells him to stop being loud and irritating, and you might have a shot.)

And Kotarou sticks to this advice well in the beginning – establishing a positive connection with you and letting you get comfortable, your friendship blossoming and growing into one that you can foresee being one of your most cherished.

But then elements of his infatuation begin developing, and suddenly that advice gets a bit warped, his understanding of your intentions slowly crumbling away because of one critical, crucial factor: Kotarou grows an incredibly strong sense of attachment towards you.

He’s already quite physically touchy and needy as it is, but as his obsession with you progresses, this dependency morphs into not only the more tactile side of things, but his mental state as well. He quickly grows to absolutely need you in every sense of the word; you’re something that keeps him tethered, grounded. Your love and attention is something that he needs in order to survive, in order to wake up everyday and get himself out of bed because he knows that he’ll get to see you today, to hug you and touch you and maybe even kiss you if he can catch you off guard enough.

Within the span of a few months after he recognizes that his feelings for you are more romantic than platonic, Koutarou’s entire mental health and wellbeing revolves around you and the attention you give him.

The advice of his friends still rings through his head, but he instead begins interpreting your actions as you wanting to foster this dependency of his. He thinks that you’re aware of his brewing feelings, and that you feel the same way – surely that’s what you mean when you always praise him, right? His every action comes back to you; he hits a spike in a match he got you exclusive, front-row player’s box seats for?

Well, he’s immediately peering up into the stands, golden eyes frantically searching for you, and once he spots you he’s waving like a madman, blowing obnoxious kisses at you, proudly exclaiming that was for you babe! And he’ll keep going until you acknowledge him, until you give him a thumbs up and a toothy smile, until you yell back that you’re so proud of you, Ko!

(Of course, the phrasing of ‘babe’ is a bit suspect, but you’ll blame it on mishearing him in the loud, packing stadium.)

When he tries out a new recipe for a particular dish he knows you love, he’s eager to call you, begging you to drop whatever it is you’re doing and swing by his apartment to try because he really, really needs you to say you like it.

(He’ll be watching with rapt attention as you hover the fork to your lips, practically not breathing as he watches you chew and swallow, his palms so sweaty and clammy that he nearly drops the pan in excitement when you compliment the food. Don’t pay attention to the way he gulps loud enough for you to hear, nor the way he grabs you by the waist and spins you around, laughing that booming laugh of his and seeming much too joyous for a simple well-cooked meal.)

Everything comes back to the basic principal that Koutarou just wants desperately to impress you – he thrives on your praise, seeing you proud of him and happy to call him yours, and he’s leaping at each and every possible chance to achieve that, to make you laugh and wrap your arms around him, to whisper into his ear that you’re so proud baby, I know you worked so hard, now what’dya say we go home and I reward you for all that hard work, just how you like it?

He’s committed to being your dream partner, to being someone you can proudly call your own, and he quite literally needs you praise and validation in every aspect of his life to solidify his delusions about the way you feel for him – your opinion is something he values over his own life, your presence something he genuinely believes he can’t live without, and so to have you by his side constantly, always smiling at him and making him feel so giddy and happy is something that Kotarou really honestly needs.

The bottom line is that his entire emotional and mental state rests firmly upon your shoulders, firmly upon your reactions to the things he does for you – so keep that in mind as he rushes up to you with the excitement and energy of a puppy, ranting and raving about how he managed to hit one of Atsumu’s new kinds of tosses or block one of Hinata’s best spikes.

Keep it in mind as he presses you flush against his body, his face buried into your neck, his audible inhale and whimper that vibrates against your skin making a shiver shoot up your spine in anything but pleasure. Keep in mind that now it’s your responsibility to keep Kotarou happy, that your job is essentially to make sure that he stays at least somewhat stable.

(With the pressure coming from the entire management staff of the MSBY team, who’ve realized that Kotarou has a bit of a massive crush on you – you, who isn’t doing the best financially, who could very much not survive a class-action lawsuit for ruining one of their star players.)

And once he’s stolen away, it’s your responsibility to keep him happy so that he keeps leaving the apartment, leaving you, making sure that you have enough food and water to survive, so that his depressive episodes don’t cost you your life.

So really, have fun; because eventually the emotional toll will hit you, but don’t worry because Kotarou will be right there to help pick you up again.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Because his jealous streak is really quite strong, Koutarou has a tendency to misinterpret nearly every single interaction you have with a member of the opposite sex.

He’s automatically assuming that everyone is interested in you, that everyone wants to date you and make you smile and kiss you and fuck you, all of which are things that only he should be allowed to do. He’s jumping to conclusions before things really even happen, sure that you’ll somehow be manipulated into leaving him, into leaving the happy, loving relationship you share with him.

It’s a fear that permeates his every moment when he’s away from you (something that is admittedly quite rare, but still), that seeps into the back of his mind no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that you love him, that you’d never cheat on him or trade him in for someone better.

Of course, he trusts you enough to not immediately act upon his jealousy when he notices another man in your vicinity. Rather, he’ll start demanding your attention even more, trying to keep you physically turned away from the stranger and keep your eyes focused only on Kotarou, because if you can’t see the man, the man can’t see you, right?

It’s poor logic, and Kotarou panics the entire time he tries to stall, only able to imagine the way you’d look by this new man’s side.

And at the end of the day, that’s really it – Kotarou knows that he’s not perfect. You, with your lovely figure, beautiful face, wonderful personality, and many talents, could really get any guy of your choice. So why would you want him?

He seems confident, like he has no doubts about himself and his abilities, and for the most part he doesn’t, but there’s just something about you that makes him constantly reanalyze himself, that makes him wonder if he’s really enough, if he could ever really be enough for someone as perfect as you.

Sure he’s athletic, friendly, handsome, kind, but he’s not the number one hitter in the league, not the brightest, not the most charming, not the best looking or most mysterious or funniest or any number of other things that you might find more attractive.

And as time passes this eats away at Kotarou’s mind, driving him insane the longer it occupies the back of his thoughts because he just can’t shake the image of you in another man’s arms, laughing and kissing them and just being so fucking happy without him.

He’s dependent on you to an unhealthy degree, absolutely fixated on the idea of needing you in his life, and so Kotarou doesn’t really hold back in terms of trying to control his jealousy – he knows he needs to step in before you even get the chance to be lulled in by some other man. He needs to interfere before he loses you forever, and while he knows you’re probably embarrassed by how he barges in anytime you talk to someone else, Kotarou doesn’t let it hold him back.

Nothing can hold him back in the face of something as terrifying as losing you.

You’d never pegged Kotarou as one for video games, but when he’d dragged you to the new arcade that opened up a few blocks from his house, he practically seemed like a child in a toystore.

With his hand wrapped tightly around yours, he’d led you through row after row of game machines, golden eyes wide as he pointed to each and every one, promising you that he’d beat this one in two tries, or that one with his eyes closed. It’d been endearing in a way, watching how excited he’d gotten, before he dragged you over to a game in the far corner with especially bright lights and all sorts of noises coming from it.

He’d challenged you, telling you with a booming laugh that he’d bet you couldn’t beat him, a challenge you eagerly accepted. And really, while he’d been mildly embarrassed to sheepishly admit he’d run out of quarters after his fifth try through the game, it didn’t stop him from practically sprinting up to the ticketing counter, digging in his wallet for the largest dollar bill he had on hand to trade in. Leaving you alone at the game, biting your lip and reading over all the cartoon-style text decorating the game’s exterior.

You were so engrossed in the game’s appearance that you didn’t hear the blond man’s calls to you, shy little excuse me’s falling on deaf ears. Soon a tapping at your shoulder tapped you out of your reverie, spinning around to come face to face with a man you’d never seen before. Sandy blond hair and thick rimmed glasses sitting atop a rather brightly colored dress shirt and dark jeans.

Do you know how to play? Even his voice seemed timid, and while you were a bit shocked at his question, you’d only smiled and said no, hoping the man would drop some hints on ways to beat Kotarou – hearing his boasting was worse than hearing his moping, after all.

The man seemed relieved, moving forward to restart the game and talking you through the level, telling you tips on when to jump, which treasure chests were worth more, tricks on how to move the toggle piece, even telling you that the game would sometimes glitch and delete off ten seconds to your total time if you moved just right.

You’d thanked him profusely, excitement brewing in your chest at the thought of how you would crush Kotarou, but the sudden feeling of being watched washed over you and left you stiffening up, no longer paying attention to the stranger’s words.

In less than a moment, you were suddenly pushed from behind, spun around so that your back was pressed against the arcade wall, the breath knocked out of your lungs and Kotarou’s face – fit with a scowl – filling up your entire view.

Your surprised yelp was cut off by him suddenly lunging forward, his lips settling onto yours hard enough to make you flinch a bit. He kissed you roughly, loudly, the sound of wet smacking filling your ears and surely the stranger’s, if his facial expression was anything to go by. With red cheeks and a shocked look spread across his features, the man was quick to stutter an apology and speed off, trying to avoid the sight of Kotarou pressing you tighter against the wall and the sound of his groans and grunts.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Kotarou pulled back, licking his lips and looking at you with something akin to hunger swirling in those golden eyes.

Who was that?

Is all he got out, hands still firmly placed at your waist.

Your shock barred you from answering right away, before a resounding smack rung through his ears, the mild pain of your slap to his chest leaving him winded, the pleasant sensation of you touching him numbing out some of the hot, angry envy in his veins.

What the hell was that, Kotarou? You practically yell at him, the sound drowned out by the ringing of a few games nearby.

Kotarou only sighs, squeezing your sides and fixing you with an unblinking stare.

That man was bothering you, couldn’t he see you were here with me?

At your bewildered look, he merely laughed, one hand coming up to teasingly ruffle your hair. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’ll leave us alone for the rest of the day. Now c’mon, I got more quarters – watch me win!

And just like that, he seemed to have forgotten all about the rather heated, intimate moment he’d instigated – all smiles and laughter and taunts for the rest of the day as you shakily and wearily settled by his side, trying to rationalize that perhaps it looked different to an outsider.

Perhaps Kotarou thought the man was bothering you, and was worried he’d only get the hint through extreme measures. And he’s always been a bit extreme and exaggerated, surely he meant nothing by the kiss – even if it had been rather graphic, even if he’d been practically moaning at just the taste of you.

That must be it, you decide, as Kotarou whines and pouts about losing the level once more, begging you to give him just one more try. The small, half-hearted smile you give him is enough permission for him, and just that look settles the raging jealousy in his heart.

You were looking at him again, just as you should be – him and him only.

(And later that night, that’s what’s falling past his lips in a mantra as he vividly remembers the feel of your body in his hands, your lips pressed against his own, the smell of you clouding his every breath.)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Kotarou’s infatuation with you is, in most ways, strange.

He’s utterly obsessed, of course – his every waking moment is either revolving around volleyball or you, often times mixing and jumbling up so that he’s imagining all sorts of things that get him grinning like a fool, his cheeks bright red and his breathing too heavy to be considered normal.

(Things like seeing you wear his jersey, for example, or having you toss him a ball that he smacks so hard it hurts, seeing your impressed and flustered expression as he teases you about how strong he is. The kind of thing that makes his chest swell with pride, that makes him bite his lip and clutch at his covers late at night when he’s dreaming and wanting and needing you.)

His feelings for you carelessly breach any sort of trust or boundaries between the two of you, and for the most part Kotarou doesn’t see an issue with this.

Of course you probably don’t like when he checks the tracker he’d installed into your phone, but it’s just for safety and he’s sure you’ll eventually understand! It’s unsafe to let someone like you travel around alone at night (or in the day, or in crowded streets or public parks or even in the safety of your own home-).

He’s just taking an extra precaution to make sure someone’s got an eye on you – he’d be more than happy to install a tracker into his phone for you to keep tabs on his location too, if you’d like. (And oh, he wishes you’d like that.)

You’re probably not the biggest fan of when he wraps an arm around you in public, beaming and planting a wet, long kiss against your temple as he greets you, walking to your favorite coffee shop with his arm still wrapped around you, migrating down to your waist and making walking uncomfortable while he prattles on and on about his latest training regiment.

(And sure, maybe he’s exaggerating just a hair about how much he can bench press, or how fast his serves are, but those golden eyes of his are constantly scanning your expressions, looking for even the slightest hint of awe, analyzing any signs that you’re impressed with his physical prowess, his dedication. Impressed by him, really.)

And so really, Kotarou breaks every physical and intangible barrier and wall that you have down, slowly and bit by bit until you’re so desensitized to his antics and his behavior towards you that you stop questioning it. You’re not exactly supportive of the possessive, overly clingy way he treats you, but it’s just Kotarou, so really how harmful can it be? He’s just a silly, overgrown puppy of a man, and why should you ever be afraid of him?

And Kotarou’s feelings towards your living situation reflect this sentiment – that is, he absolutely does not want to kidnap you.

Not only does he find the term entirely unapplicable to your situation if he were to steal you away (because he’s convinced that on some core level you’d actually be pleased, like you want him to whisk you away and keep you wrapped up in his apartment as his little housewife), but it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth to imagine keeping you cooped up in one place all the time.

He loves to be out with you, to take you to markets and restaurants and movies and all sorts of other things – he likes having you out in public. It stresses him out a bit, yes, constantly being vigilant and aware of any man that tries to approach you, but by and large he finds that he enjoys your company most and enjoys showing you off most when you’re not all alone at home.

That isn’t to say that he dislikes cozy movie nights spent on his couch with now-cold takeout sprawled across the table, but there’s just something special about seeing you laugh so hard you cry because of him in a busy, sunny street café where everyone can see just how entertained you are by him.

(Those cozier evenings are of course favorites of him, though, because he gets to see a more intimate side of you – when you get sleepy and your eyes start drooping, he has to physically hold himself back from cooing and squishing your cheeks. And especially when you fall asleep on his shoulder or shift just right so that he worm his way into your arms, noticing how your flimsy sleeping shorts ride up just a hair to expose the lower curve of your ass, his mouth is left watering and his own shorts feel uncomfortably tight – something he'd be absolutely crazy to dislike.)

And so, Kotarou will hold off for as long as possible on stealing you away, just for the selfish reason of being able to drag you to all his games, to pretty dates (that you aren’t aware are dates, of course, but that’s just a technicality), to keep you happy and excited and free by his side.

But if things were to go south and you started to really critically analyze his behavior and decide that you don’t want to remain in his life?

Well, Kotarou has never quite felt panic like when you swing by his apartment one last time to announce that you’re moving away. He’s never quite felt a level of dismay like when you tell him you’ll be blocking his number because he’s made you uncomfortable, or when you tell him you’ll be crashing at a male friend’s place.

And really, that last portion is the kicker – it sends Kotarou’s mind spiraling, panic engulfing him and leading him to grab you, his hands shaking as he holds you, eyes flashing as he drags you to his bedroom, holding you down on the bed and using a spare t-shirt to tie up your wrists and ankles.

He’s never known fear like this before, and as he stares down at you – writhing, looking at him with tears in your eyes, looking at him –

He’s never quite known excitement like this before, either.

As a captor, Kotarou isn’t terrible – with one glaring exception: he’s needy. You’ve known this for as long as you’ve known him, but once you’re trapped in his home this is only amplified, the clinginess getting worse and worse because you have no way to dissuade his touchiness, no way to distract him away with outside people and activities.

No, now it’s strictly you and him – which is heaven for Kotarou, exactly what he’s been fantasizing about come to life.

Unfortunately for you, this means excessive time spent together and a lot of physical contact. Though his delusions aren’t quite deep enough to fully mask the fact that you’re unhappy, Kotarou is able to chalk up your lack of enthusiasm for things you did pre-kidnapping as you simply being moody, shy, womanly.

It’s infuriating how much he blames your behavior on your hormones and menstrual cycle.

He’s practically impossible to deal with once your period begins, his touches soft and gentle and nearly scared, treating you like you’re some breakable, delicate piece of treasure that can’t do anything on your own.

He’ll cook meals for you, then promptly bring the chopsticks up to your mouth and say ahh, smiling like a fool as he guides the ramen past your lips, nodding enthusiastically when you chew.

He’ll hold your hand and help you walk around the apartment, big eyes wide and worried when you near any corners, terrified that you’ll somehow hurt yourself because you’re distracted with cramp pain or simply having brain fog. And really, it would be endearing how earnestly he’s trying to make you comfortable and provide for you during your time of the month, but there’s something truly humiliating about the level of disregard he feels for your complaints, simply smiling lopsidedly at you and telling you don’t worry, I’ll make it all better! I’ve got some of that chocolate you like, you want some? I can heat up your heating pad too, and we can watch some old reruns of my games – you’d like that, right? You like watching me play, yeah?

And really, that’s the main thing with Kotarou – the level of care and attention he both gives to you and demands from you is incredibly draining.

The constant feeling of walking on eggshells around him is enough to have your mind running in circles, constantly worried that you’ll say the wrong thing about his personality or his actions and have him moping, convinced that you’re just being mean because you’re disappointed in him, that you’re just playing hard to get because he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve. And so how does he respond to this?

By giving you more attention, swamping you with questions and touches and all sorts of things for the two of you to do together. He’s always forcing you onto the couch to try out a new video game Akinori mentioned when he last ran into him, or watching a scary movie and clutching onto you for dear life at every jump scare.

(He thinks it’s romantic, but the slight bruising left on your thighs and sides from his very, very tight grip are less sweet.)

He’s just generally so very out of touch with how you’re feeling that it’s infuriating – but you have to be careful, because everything you do and say will only cause him to grasp onto you tighter, clutching onto you with more strength than you can handle because his entire mental wellbeing is still resting firmly on your shoulders. He forces you to sleep in bed beside him, waking up to you tangled in his arms every morning, starting his day off right and making it slightly easier to leave you for early morning trainings.

(He has to wake up with you every morning or else he feels like something’s off, his performance severely lacking and the only thing that can fix it being excessive affection from you – something a bit difficult to come by.)

He forces you to share meals with him because it gives him a reason to unabashedly stare at you (though he does this anyway, frequently) and watch as you eat the food he provided you. He has to be the sole one cooking or buying you take out, because it feeds the narrative he’s crafted in his head that he’s your provider, that he’s taking care of you, that he’s being a good male partner and spoiling his perfect little wife.

(Of course, you may not be married yet, but to Kotarou it’s just a matter of time – you’re already entwined in every possible way, living together and spending every waking moment together, so why bother with formal ceremonies and official titles when he can just buy a diamond and slip onto your finger with a toothy grin and a much too long and much too detailed declaration of his love? Of course, if you want the ceremony he’d be more than willing to give it to you, but he’s content with the knowledge that you’re his and his alone already.)

So really, if you can handle his hands constantly being on you, his lips always pressed against your skin, his voice always ringing in your ears, and his presence always a looming shadow over you demanding your praise and attention and time, Kotarou isn’t terrible.

There’s shades of genuine love in how he treats you – the gentleness in his touches, the tenderness of his compliments, the way he’ll moan into your ear the most adoring, utterly pathetic things as he settles himself between your legs.

There’s evidence that he truly loves you in some horrible, twisted way, but it all just feels like too much. Too forceful, too desperate, too passionate, too him.

But no amount of trying to get through to him will ever change the way he treats you, or ever persuade him into loosing the metaphorical lease he keeps you on – you’re his, and no matter how hard you try Kotarou will always firmly believe that fate has brought you together.

And isn’t that so romantic?

PUNISHMENTS:

In general, it’s rare for Kotarou to get genuinely angry at you.

Of course he has his highs and lows – he may be unwilling to seriously listen to your complaints or insults hurled at him, but he’s not inhuman. He still knows that you’re being mean – criticizing him and visibly displeased with him, and just that fact alone has his eyes drooping, guilt, self-pity and shame resting heavily on his shoulders.

His delusions about your feelings for him bar him from fully comprehending that your anger lies in the fact that he’s kidnapped you rather than not cuddling with you the night before, but he can still tell that something is amiss. He doesn’t like when you aren’t smiling and happy, when you’re bothered and troubled, when you aren’t acting like you used to, back before he relocated you to his apartment.

It’s upsetting, really, and it leaves Kotarou desperate to figure out how to get a grin back onto your lips, how to make you laugh, how to please you again. A lot of Kotarou’s anger and punishments stem from a place of insecurity and worry about your perception of him – he’s really quite sensitive, especially coming from someone he idolizes and reveres as much as you, and so his solutions to any sort of non-desirable behavior from you is to simply try harder.

It’s seemed to have worked in his career – hours upon hours upon hours spent lagging after practices to work on his spikes just a bit more, to serve just a few more balls, to get just a bit better.

And he applies this same principle with you – he’d rather pull his nails off one by one than physically hurt you or deny you of food and water or leave you all alone or any number of things he could do to force your codependency on him to become stronger.

And so, Kotarou wracks his brain for any and all possibilities on how to get you to like him more, on how to make you happy, on how to be a better boyfriend.

And frankly, it results in a much, much worse time for you.

If you thought Kotarou was clingy before you yelled at him for installing locks on his windows, then he’s downright glued to your side afterwards, his breath constantly fanning on your cheeks and his voice seemingly never ending as it rings over and over and over in your ears.

If you thought being in the same room as him was difficult before you slapped him across the face for giving your ass a playful squeeze, it’s nothing compared to how he plants more and more kisses onto your unwilling lips, leaving pretty dresses and lacy lingerie out on your (forcefully shared) bed for you, the way he starts piling on the compliments with such frequency and urgency that it nearly makes you sick.

Kotarou has always been a lot, truly, and once his feelings for you are thrown into the mix he becomes too much – and when you’re angry at him, ignoring him or hurling insults at him or denying his affection?

Well, the sadness quickly dissipates into fear, anxiety eating at every inch of his body because what if you hate him now?

You’re meant for one another, sure, but what if he’s messed it all up by not being enough for you?

It’s the stuff of nightmares, and in order to correct it he’ll instead become your nightmare.

You hear him before you see him – his keys jingle loudly in his pocket, the rhythmic noises of the padlock on the front door locking back up sounding too familiar now. You’re sitting at the dining table, staring down at the new book Kotarou had gifted you a week ago – you’ve read it twice already in that span of time, but as his footsteps approach the kitchen area, you resolve to read it once again.

His voice is loud as he calls your name, and you can hear the smile on his face as his footsteps quicken, his pace nearly turning to a run as he approaches you. His arms are around you before you can stop them, his words already pouring out as he starts telling you all about his day, rambling on about how Meian and Hinata had promised to take Kotarou out to a new bar later this week.

He’s still hugging you as he goes on to tell you that it’s supposed to be super good, I’ll have to let you know how it is! Maybe I can bring something home for you – I know your favorite’s always been –

Your mouth is moving before you can even really stop yourself, the words seeming to burst out without your control. Don’t tell me about all your plans in the outside world – not when I’m stuck here wasting away in this fucking apartment.

Your voice is low, uneven, and immediately Kotarou tenses, his eyebrows drawing together into a pout. What are you talking about? I just want to bring you a good drink and maybe we can watch that trashy rom-com you love and –

You cut him off again by harshly shaking off his arms from around you, moving your elbows out in an attempt to get him off of you.

Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to get me a drink! I don’t want you to do anything for me – you need to let me go, Kotarou. You can’t keep me stuck here forever! I should be out there getting a drink too, and going to the fucking store and seeing my friends and living my life! You’re – you’re a terrible person, and I hate you!

Your chest is heaving by the time you finish your spiel, having started off in that same low tone but eventually getting to a yell. He’d backed off of you, watching you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, his mind racing and trying to understand what you could possibly mean.

Stuck here? What were you saying?

You were happy here – you always return his hugs and his kisses and let him pull you closer to his chest at night and laugh at his jokes and smile at him and say you love him to and and and –

He moves back towards you, going to wrap his arms around you again, but this time you stand up and scurry off to the other end of table and now Kotarou can see the way your eyes are glossy, how you’re on the verge of tears and your lip is trembling.

Leave me alone, I can’t stand you! Not after what you’ve done to me!

And with that, you turn tail and run off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Behind the door your hands shake, the tears finally falling as you slide down the wood, landing in a sitting position and cursing Kotarou for not putting locks on the interior doors.

A fresh wave of tears falls down your cheeks as you realize you can’t even use the toilet in peace, not without the constant, lingering threat of him watching you. It’s too much, and soon your head is in your hands, sobs wracking your body.

Meanwhile, Kotarou is still standing frozen, his heart and mind racing because you’re obviously upset. He doesn’t know why you’re overreacting like this, but the image of you with tears in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings, prompting him to rush and grab his car keys once more, flying out the front door and practically speeding to the nearest store, his grocery cart full.

He’s home roughly twenty minutes later, tears already pooling in his own eyes because the more he’s thought about the state you’re in the more he comes to the conclusion that it’s his fault, that he must’ve made you angry or sad and now he has to fix it.

He has to show you that you don’t hate him – you’re just having a rough day, that’s all. You’re just sad that he’s been gone all day and hasn’t been home to give you the proper love and care that you deserve. His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly even to leave his knuckles white, his teeth grinding and gritting together as he presses down on the gas gauge just a hair harder, desperation and guilt weighing heavily in his chest because god, he hates seeing you so upset.

And as he races back up to the apartment with all the groceries in his arms, he’s quick to wrap his fist against the bathroom door, asking in a breathless voice if you’re okay or if you’re hurt.

You’re still quietly crying, sniffling heavily and trying to ignore him as he knocks again. He knows he could bust the door open, easily overpowering you and giving him direct access to you, but the hurt look in your eyes flashes through his mind again and he decides against it. No, he needs to prove that he’s good enough at reading you and figuring out what you need – he needs to prove himself to you, to make you like him again.

He calls your name through the door again, before resting his forehead against the wood and wincing. I’m sorry for whatever I did, baby, I promise I didn’t mean it!

He hears you scoff at that, and bites his lip.

You know me, sometimes I just get carried away! I never meant to make you upset, you’ve got to know that. He pauses, shifting around the bags in his arms. You mean so much to me, I love you. I love you more than I think I should, but it’s okay! I’ll be better for you, I promise. I’ll be a better boyfriend and I’ll make you happy. Just – you just have to let me try, okay? Please baby, let me try.

It’s silent for a moment, and Kotarou’s chest feels tight.

Please, he tries one last time.

And although you know you shouldn’t and that you’ll regret it, some small part of you almost feels bad as you hear him sniffle through the wood, the sound of him crying obvious. You bite your lip, a small voice in the back of your head quietly wondering if you should believe him.

After all, does he really make you that unhappy? He’s always so eager and pathetically excited when you smile at him, and is it really so bad to have someone give you all their attention and time? You’re ashamed to admit some part of you almost likes it, and soon your body is moving before you can stop it.

The door opens and Kotarou’s heart is in his throat, the sight of you with red, puffy eyes and your lip caught between your teeth making something between a sigh of relief and a whimper slip from him.

The multitude of bags precariously balanced in his arms immediately have your eyes widening, the names of your favorite snacks peeking through the sacks and making that same pang in your heart twist again, the knowledge that he went out and bought all of this for you just because you were sad forcing you to take a step forward.

You don’t say anything, and Kotarou stares at you with wide eyes, a wild sort of look overtaking his parted lips and pink cheeks, and when you mumble something small, he has to physically strain himself to hear you.

You repeat your favorite drink, swallowed harshly and struggling to make eye contact with him. He mouths it back to himself, before slowly, shyly, smiling down at you.

You won’t regret, I promise! He laughs, the sound relieved, dropping all of the shopping bags on the ground and immediately scooping you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you nearly can’t breath, all the while that familiar, chiming laughter fills your ears.

I love you, I love you, I love you he repeats into your ear, keeping you close and occasionally squeezing tighter.

And even as something crumbles up inside you, you find yourself wrapping your arms around him too, shoving your face against his chest and nodding, your words muffled as you murmur the smallest I love you, too back.

And Kotarou can only beam down at you, repeating the phrase over and over until all the words start slurring together, until all you can do is slowly relax into the warmth of his arms, into the feeling of someone completely and utterly loving you.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Kotarou is less dangerous and honestly more pathetic than anything else.

He’s a fully grown man who’s desperate for someone to love, whose desperation becomes so deeply ingrained in his feelings towards you that he clutches onto you and never lets go.

Reading into your feelings festers delusions about how you feel towards him, feeding him pretty lies about how you really feel and what your actions really mean.

He builds a relationship between the two of you in his head, growing closer and more intimate with you than socially acceptable for a friendship, becoming more and more dependent on you and the praise you so willingly give him.

It’s heaven, really, and it leaves Kotarou blinded to the ugly side of his obsession.

He’s clingy and overly possessive, always touching you and calling you his and making sure that everyone sees the two of you together – that everyone knows that you’re his woman and he’s your man.

He wants to make sure that your relationship – fake or not – is idyllic, that you’re so happy with him that you could never even dream of wanting another man, never even entertain the notion of needing anyone else because Kotarou is everything you could ever want.

And while he won’t explicitly acknowledge any behavior that clashes with the pretty image of you and your love that he’s crafted in his head, he’s not immune to your negative reception of his touches and his rather aggressive affection.

You’ll have to walk on eggshells around him, careful to keep him from falling deeply into a spiral that could lead to your own slow demise being trapped under his thumb.

It’s stressful, a lifestyle that’ll leave you haggard and spent, tired to the point where slowly it will stop feeling like an act to return his hugs, to compliment his muscles, to tell him that you missed him while he was away at work.

It will feel less and less like a lie, the words slipping off your tongue so easily that it’ll leave you scared.

Because really, while Kotarou is overbearing and quite honestly scary with the way he barrels forwards and takes whatever he wants from you, eventually you’ll find yourself less and less angry, and more and more complacent. It could be worse, couldn’t it?

You have a warm bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, and food to eat.

And the man that holds you flush to his chest in said bed, pays the rent for said roof, and hand-selects only meals he knows you like can’t possibly be that bad, right?

After all, doesn’t it feel good to be needed?

#_kotarou bokuto #_lee's profiles #_haikyuu #yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto #yandere kotaro bokuto #yandere kotarou bokuto #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere kotarou bokuto x reader

219 notes · View notes

prettieinpink · 9 months

Text

Romanticising your morning 🎀✨

Having a good morning is literally essential for having a good day, so on those days when you’re dreading what’s to come or when you just need a pick me up! You do not have to do all of these, just the ones you’re interested in.

Listening to music while getting ready

Create a music playlist full of good vibes and hype, then let it blast while you’re showering, doing your makeup, etc. This creates such a good atmosphere for your mind in the morning, as long as you stay away from songs that are negative (pay attention to the lyrics!)

Allowing 20 minutes to just drink something.

No phones, no music, no distractions, just pure sipping and sitting. This can be your drink of your choice, ideally something that you enjoy drinking. Whether it’s coffee, tea, hot chocolate, matcha or even coke, just slowly sip it and savour each sip while just sitting. This helps so much for having a calm morning, as this declutters my mind and allows things that are actually important- be important.

Put some effort in your alarm

Make your alarm be so enjoyable, you can’t even get mad at it for waking you up. It can be your favourite song, a meditation, a motivational speech, your favourite character dialogue or even your favourite person’s voice. This can make waking up a lot less difficult.

Stretch before the day stretches you

I sit a lot, and my posture isn’t the best, so I ensure that I leave a little bit of time each day to fully stretch my body. This just isn’t so I don’t have constant neck pain from always looking down at my computer. If you have a sedentary lifestyle, then stretch.

Reading an wholesome article, book, bible verse etc

this can boost your morning so good!! a little brain food too, mentally and emotionally nourishing. ( if you guys want book recommendations lmk! )

Having a social media free morning

I know not everyone is able to stay off their phones in the morning for whatever reason, so instead just avoid any social networks. Scrolling on most platforms just cause you to compare yourself, feed yourself negativity and messes with the balance of your day. The most ideal would be staying off your phone completely, but I understand not everyone can.

Writing a list of things you look forward to

This doesn’t have to be big major things, but genuinely anything that makes you wanna push through the day. Mine today was I looked forwarded to talking to my friends after the weekend and baking cookies <3

818 notes · View notes

blakeswritingimagines · 4 months

Text

A Little Bit Happy

Summary: You seem to have won your husband's heart all over again after the news of you having his child, until he shows you how truly dark his heart is.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Part 1 Burn The House Down

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

"I'm pregnant." She spoke softly.

His eyes widened for a split second before he broke out in a soft chuckle. Was he imagining things, or were you truly saying what he thought he heard? “Do you mean it?” He asked slowly, taking in every word. He was unsure, but this would explain the weight gain, as well as why you had been so… moody. He had no other choice but to believe you for now. A child! This changes everything. Aemond was shocked. “P…. Pregnant?! Are you… serious?!” He was speechless. He tried to keep his composure but he could not hide his joy and excitement. Was it true, you were carrying his child? The thought alone sent his heart racing. He looked at you and put a smile on his face. This was the news he had been waiting for all this time. And he looked you straight in the eyes. “Is this true?” he asked, his eyes filled with joy and wonder. You heard Aemond's reaction, his eyes widened in shock and excitement. And you knew it was as you expected. You were truly carrying his child. "Yes, it is…" You replied in a sweet voice as your face grew bright with a wide smile. You felt so happy that Aemond was excited about the news, hoping the tension between you both would dissolve. "I am pregnant with our child." You continued, as you placed your hand on your stomach. "I've been trying to keep it a secret, but it has become difficult to hide. I guess I can make it official." You laughed and glanced at Aemond, who seemed to be beaming with enthusiasm. You wanted him to be happy and to hear the news he had been waiting for all this time. "It's true," you said, your eyes shining brightly.

“A baby?!” Aemond said with a grin. “You’re saying we’re going to have a baby?!” He placed his hand on your stomach, as you had done. “My lovely wife… I had feared that this day would never come. I could not imagine a day when we would not bring forth the next generation of our house. But, my worries are gone. We have made what I most desired.” Aemond laughed with joy and embraced you, holding you close in his arms as his grin grew wider and wider. Your hand rested on your stomach, the movement of your hand looked as though you were comforting the child being carried within. And he was overjoyed by this revelation. This was no secret anymore. Aemond was a man changed. He smiled and took your hand bringing it to his lips and kissed it. "Our child. Our beautiful child."

Months later, the pregnancy went smoothly and you began to notice your belly growing larger and your mood changing. You felt your emotions become more intense as the pregnancy became more advanced. Your moods shifted from happy to angry to anxious to affectionate, all in the span of just a few hours. You could not explain it. Aemond knew your mood swings were common and he understood it the best he could. However, these mood swings of yours were becoming more frequent and intense as the pregnancy progressed. He was constantly finding himself walking on eggshells, unsure of which mood his wife might have. Your mood swings were often unpredictable, and Aemond never knew what to expect from one moment to the next. But he understood, you were carrying a life within you, it was bound to create such mood swings at the least. He had to be patient with you. And he was. The days he seemed to be distant were now fewer and further between the two of you, he was there by your side always. He could see the weight changes, you were getting rather large now. He could notice it in your face and around your midriff. It was not easy being married to someone who was so emotionally unstable. It was especially exhausting being forced to play the role of husband and father at the same time never finding a good enough time to come clean about what he'd done. He was constantly stressed and his nerves frayed at the slightest change in your behavior.

The pregnancy was taking a toll on you. Your mood swings were becoming more and more uncontrollable. You would be laughing one moment, sad the next, and you could not figure out what to do about it. You felt that you were losing yourself and had no control over your feelings. You were now getting closer and closer to the due date. Your belly was huge and you were uncomfortable even as you constantly asked if you were fat or pretty. You tried hard not to let it bother you, but it was getting more difficult to ignore. “My dear, you’re gorgeous.” Aemond’s tone was filled with love and kindness as he spoke to you. “You are bigger yes, because our child is too, but you are not fat. And you are not losing yourself.” He added as he held you close. “You are becoming a mother. These feelings are natural. You are carrying our child within you. Your emotions are bound to be different. This is how it should be. You are going to give life. You are becoming more beautiful with each day.”

You listened to him carefully as he tried to reassure you about your changing body. You felt your confidence rise at the way he talked, calming your nerves with his words. You looked into his eyes and saw nothing but love, nothing but honesty. "Thank you, my love… You are right. This is how it should be." You smiled faintly, feeling more at ease. You felt your mood shift slightly, your pregnancy hormones calming down. It felt good to hear the words come from him directly, not just in your head. He was happy to see, that his words were helping. He took you into his arms and held you. His hand stroked your belly, as he spoke. “You are more beautiful now than ever before.” Those were the words he believed in this moment. You were not getting larger, you were getting more beautiful. Because the child within you was, a part of you both. It was beautiful to him. Aemond kissed you, it was a long kiss, filled with love.

Aemond was filled with nerves and excitement as the day of childbirth approached. He was as much worried for his wife’s health as he was for the child’s. But he did not show his worries to you. Instead, he tried to keep calm you. “You will be fine.” He told you. “In a few hours, we will see our child. Our beautiful child. I will be right beside you the entire time my dear.” He held your hand and kissed you once more. “I know you will. You have been by my side through everything… This will be no different.” You smiled gently at your husband, feeling comforted by his words. As you felt the baby kick inside your belly, you looked down and placed your hand upon your stomach, caressing the baby.

“Our beautiful child.” You repeated in a soft voice as you looked up to Aemond. Your breathing steadied and you felt more calm as he held your hand in his and placed gentle kisses upon it. You tried to focus on the good instead of the anxious thoughts that swarmed you. “I am so nervous.” You quietly admitted to him, feeling your emotions rise as you remembered the pain that would come during the delivery. “It is natural to get nervous my dear. But you won’t feel a thing. I hired the finest maester there is in King’s Landing to see to it that this whole process is as painless as possible.” He would let nothing happen to the woman he loved. You need not to worry. He would make sure of it. “When the time comes… we shall hold hands, and you need not fear any pain. I shall be by your side to ensure nothing goes wrong.” He spoke to you in a soothing tone, trying to quell your fears.

In your mind, all was well. You were going to give birth in a few hours to the child. A boy or girl. That did not matter much to you. As long as the baby was healthy and strong, it was all you could ask for. But the burning secret. It loomed over Aemond. He could not even feel anything but shame knowing what he was keeping from his wife. He had to keep this from you otherwise all would fall apart. He could not tell you. Not now. Perhaps never. It was the secret that loomed over him, that he felt he could not disclose to her. This was something that could change everything. But he could not find the right way to go about breaking the news to her. You were carrying his child, and you did not deserve to go through this pain when he could ease it. You were so vulnerable and he could not risk hurting you in this way. “I cannot stop thinking about the pain.” You said softly as you felt the discomfort in your stomach, moving your hand to your lower midriff and rubbing it gently. “What if I do not survive?” You whispered to Aemond, looking for reassurance from him as your eyes were glued to his. The burning guilt only grew as you approached your delivery hour. He knew he should have told you sooner, but each day the news got harder to reveal.

The more you spoke, the more he felt ashamed and remorseful. It had been months, and he had yet to tell you. What was so hard about telling you the truth, the same truth you so desperately wanted to hear. But it would ruin everything. The guilt he felt for hiding this from his wife was unbearable in this moment. You seemed so worried. You were afraid. You were looking at him of all people to console you, to tell you everything would be alright. “You will survive. I promise you that.” He told you. “You are strong. Stronger than any in the realm. I have faith you will emerge victorious.” The promise was meant to soothe you, to ease your fears, and he hoped you would believe it. He did not know how much further he could keep this from you. He had to figure out a way to tell you soon. But not now. Not while you were this fragile. His words comforted you, allowing you to smile faintly. Your gaze softened as you looked into his eyes. “I believe you.” You nodded, your breath becoming steady once again. “Just be by my side during this delivery, and we will be fine.” You said, holding his hands. You felt the contractions tightening and you gasped quietly, looking over to Aemond for a moment. "Thank you." You gave him a small smile, trying to stay positive. Your nerves seemed to have calmed down, and his words had given you a sense of relief. "I'm looking forward to holding our baby in my arms… The thought of me actually being a mother… We will raise our son or daughter with love, and we will be happy as a family." Your voice was soft and loving. You closed your eyes and leaned in to rest your forehead against his chest.

You and Aemond were celebrating the one-year nameday of your babe being born. Holding held a grand feast, inviting all the important lords and ladies of the realm. The mood was lighthearted, and a sense of happiness permeated the air. The two took some time away from the feast to enjoy the evening alone together, walking through the gardens of the Red Keep as Aemond said he needed to speak with you. Aemond had been preparing for this moment. He wanted to finally tell you the truth. It had to be done. You were finally alone, the moment he had been dreading for so long. But he could not delay any longer. He had to tell you. All the signs pointed to now. “My love, there's something I must tell you” But now he hesitated again. Maybe this was not the best moment. Maybe it should be done tomorrow, yes. Tomorrow was a better day. Tomorrow was good. He will tell you tomorrow. But as the time of the walk came to a stop, he finally built up the courage.

You smiled at Aemond, not noticing anything amiss, and you continued walking with him through the gardens. You had been enjoying the quiet moment with your husband as you enjoyed the beauty of the gardens. Your mind was occupied with the happiness of the day, and you wanted to cherish the moment. "What is it dear?" Aemond stopped for a few moments. The time had come. He did not enjoy watching you walk and be so happy when he knew that he was going to shatter all joy. He hated himself and everything about what he was about to say. He turned to face you. For a few moments, he could not speak. But then finally, he managed to gather his words together. “I… there is something I must tell you. But I implore you, please understand…” You felt a sudden tension in the air when Aemond stopped walking and you could not read his facial expression. The feeling of unease set in and the happiness you had been feeling vanished. You looked up to him, awaiting him to continue speaking. You suddenly stopped as well, your face softening as you noticed the look in Aemond's eyes. You immediately grew worried, sensing something was wrong. There was a hint of fear in your eyes as you spoke to your husband, your tone becoming urgent. "What is it? What is wrong?" You said, your heart pounding.

You were so innocent. Too innocent to know what he was about to say. He would need to break this to you gently. To be kind in this moment. To not be too harsh. The guilt was eating him alive. There was so much he had done wrong. But he had to tell you. You deserved to know what he had been keeping from you all this time. “There is… an important thing I need to tell you…” His voice was filled with guilt. He struggled to find the words. To put a voice to his actions. And as he felt his heart pounding, he pushed through. “I have… I have seen.. another woman.” He paused. It felt as though the entire world was closing in on you both. “Her name is Alys… Alys Rivers. And I have been…” You did not believe what you just heard. You thought your whole world was crumbling down before you, yet Aemond's words were slowly chipping away at your heart. The fear and anger built within you as you listened to him confess about his affair. You felt cold and numb, all hope and happiness lost within you at that moment. It took you a few moments to even breathe, the shock of it making your heart sink even lower. You couldn't even look Aemond in the eyes… you just kept her eyes on the ground.

Aemond noticed how you did not look up to face him. It tore him to pieces. He was the one to hurt you. He was the one who had caused this. He was hoping there would be some sort of understanding. But he was not so lucky. “Please, I beg you. I could not stop myself.” He knew that what he did was unforgivable. But he had to at least try to make his case. It was all he could get out at this moment. He paused for a moment and thought about the consequences this could have. You were so sensitive and he was pushing you to the absolute limit. He did need to keep his words right. But he wanted to try something. Blame you for not getting pregnant sooner. He thought about that for a minute. It was the only thing he could think of, but was it the right thing to say? Could a simple lie ease the pain for now at least? He looked at you, hoping that his excuse would be enough. “You could have gotten pregnant sooner.” He said. He was testing the waters. He had to find a way to shift the blame.

Those words hurt you more than he could ever imagine. Hearing those words come out of his mouth shocked you to your very core. You hated him for blaming you, and yet your heart clenched at the thought. The rage inside of you grew hotter as you listened to his cruel remark. You felt furious as you thought about him placing the blame on you when he had been the one who had strayed from the marriage. That was absolutely unfair to you. You had been trying your very best to give him a child, while he had been fooling around. Your face grew pale as Aemond tried to blame you, and you felt your heart sink even lower. Your eyes turned to him, filled with anger and grief as you could not believe what he just said to you. You started to tremble, and your expression turned cold, as all of the memories of the failed attempts to bring another child to life came swirling into your mind whispering in a broken tone. "I did all I could." It was the best thing he could do. He had to do it. He could not imagine what would happen to him, to his marriage if he did not succeed. You might leave him. So he must use his cunning. It was something he had been practicing for years. He knew you were smart, but your feelings made you weak. He had to use it to his advantage. “You haven’t been trying hard enough, my love,” Aemond said in a harsh tone, His eyes softened to not give away his deception. “Yes… I only wish you would have done more.” He said to you. “I cannot help but think that this is all your fault.”

His words cut deeper than a razor, cutting directly into your heart. You froze at his words, unable to speak. You felt so lost and alone now. Your whole world was falling apart. Your heart was shattered. All of those times when you had attempted to bring another human life into this world… you gave her all, feeling so much frustration and worry when the attempts failed. To say it was all your fault was just cruel, but you kept quiet, letting him continue. The plan was working. He could see it in your eyes, in your expression. All he had to do now was continue to play it out. He was getting what he desired. The seeds of doubt had already been planted. And you were not stopping him. You were letting him dig his heels in and plant more. He had to continue, the entire fate of his marriage depended on it. He continued to push you. He was not holding back even as he stepped closer and cupped your face. It was best this way. No regrets. If he could not have your forgiveness he would settle for this. “It has always been so easy for you to give up. First with the miscarriages, then the failure to conceive sooner. It is sad, that it took me having an affair for you to do anything in life.”

Tears were flowing down your cheeks, your heart in pieces. You tried to keep your composure, but it was all becoming too much for you. His words were too cruel and too devastating. And the more he spoke, the more he cut into your heart making you think you should apologize, making you feel worthless. You were too weak to even speak, your mind and body both numb as you stood there, letting him continue. Yes, that was the effect he needed to see. The tears. The sadness. Your weakness. It was all there. He just needed to continue. “You need to understand your duty as a wife… it is to provide your husband with an heir. And you failed. You have failed until recently.” Aemond was enjoying this. Seeing you like this. You were so meek and pathetic. The thought of you on your knees, begging him to forgive you was not too far off now. He continued. “If you had tried harder…” he said. “If you had offered more…” The cruel words flowed from his mouth and landed perfectly. You were in a state of shock, but you were not fighting back. Instead, you were allowing him to tear you down. He could continue down this path and finally, he would have you. It did not take long for tears to flow from your eyes. He was taking full advantage of your sadness. No time for remorse now.

You could not believe what you were hearing. It was too much to bear. Your stomach twisted at these words. You felt sick. As you stood there, tears pouring down your cheeks, your voice was no more than a whisper as you let out some words. "P-Please…" You choked out as you tried to look away from him. Your knees began to tremble as you felt you were close to breaking, your eyes filling with fear. You were so close to giving up. Your strength failing you. 'Good,' he thought. You were close. He could taste your defeat in the air. His words had found their mark. You were in a despairing state that he had never seen you in before. He had to keep pushing you. You were on the brink, he could see it. You were on the verge of giving up. Now he just had to press on. “Your failure was the reason that I turned to another woman. You had the chance to give me children. You had the chance to keep me happy, all of those times when we tried…” He waited for you to apologize. For you to beg forgiveness. This is it. This was the moment that the seeds he planted would blossom into something grand. The thought of you on your knees, begging him to forgive you put a grin on his face. “Please?” He said, smiling at you as he watched you tremble. “Please what?”

"You're right. It's all my fault." You said as you finally looked into Aemond's eyes, your eyes overflowing with tears. "I should have tried harder. I should been a better wife. I should have given you more children. Please, please forgive me." You said as you began to weep, unable to hide your emotions any longer. You felt so weak, and powerless, and he had succeeded in breaking you even as you leaned against him for comfort. Exactly as planned. You were his. Now that you had said the words, you had admitted it. Your apology was accepted, despite its emptiness. You would not try again. “Good.” He said. “I hope that you have learned your place as a wife and as a woman… I hope that you will learn from this situation. And… I suppose I can forget this incident, so long as you behave yourself from now on. But I forgive you. I want to give you another chance.”

Relief washed over you at his acceptance of your apology and his forgiveness. You smiled softly at him, finally feeling some hope again after what felt like weeks of misery. You didn’t want to disappoint him again, and now that he had given you another chance, you were determined to make it count. “I promise you that I will behave. I won’t fail again.” You said in a soft voice before looking away for just a moment, feeling ashamed. “Thank you, my love.” “Of course.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile. “I know you will not let me down.” He saw how you still looked ashamed. A thought popped into his head. He must go further with this for now. Perhaps he would regret it later on but for now. “The fault is not completely with you. I have failed you as well. I have not loved you enough. I have not appreciated you. I have not given you all the attention you deserve.” He knew this was not the truth. But it was needed to ensure your completely submissive state. “Now, shall we return to the feast?”

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #yandere aemond targaryen #tw yandere #house of the dragon

308 notes · View notes

csuitebitches · 1 year

Text

On Getting Rid of Your Inferiority Complex

You can take advice from everyone and every book you read, but no one can protect you proactively, unless you choose to protect yourself. Only you can do that for yourself. Your parents, friends, partner can support you emotionally but you need to stop relying so much on external validation.

When you’re making a choice that you know is going to be detrimental to your health, whether its physical, mental or emotional - such as going back to your ex, not taking the next steps for your career/ education - you need to think more about your (near) future self and make sure that she’s also comfortable. You need to think long term.

As we grow up, we often encounter situations that we’ve been in before to some degree, there’s somewhat a pattern to them. It’s time to start recognising them early and leave when you see the red flags waving.

By breaking your own word that you’ve made to yourself you’re making the inferiority complex worse. Because you’re showing to your subconscious mind that you don’t matter at all. Others do.

It could be something “small” such as going out clubbing with your friends because you couldn’t say no - and having an important presentation due the next day. It could be something “big” such as breaking off a difficult relationship, and still going back to them.

When we suffer from an inferiority complex, we idolise people around us and think they’re better than us in every way. We choose to see the best in them- just the way we choose to see the worst in ourselves.

At some point, we have had enough and decide to start improving ourselves. How do we do this? By improving ourselves in areas that you feel left out in.

Such as, seeing an influencer live your dream life. Now you’ll do everything you can to live like her because you think that once you achieve that, everything will be great. You try to improve in areas that have no direct relation to your inferiority complex.

You’ll try work on these things - while that can be in a way good because it’s alright to have a dream life and motivation for it, that doesn’t fix the inferiority issue.

Because the inferiority issue solely comes from lack of confidence and trust in yourself. Even if you get your ideal life like that influencer, that confidence won’t last long and you’ll find something else to panic about - you’ll compare yourself to your peers, or the anxiety of jobs after or the next shiny thing you want.

To actually combat inferiority issues you HAVE to build a connection with yourself. True confidence will only come when you connect with yourself with things that aren’t material things.

You need to cultivate a growth mindset and genuinely believe that you WILL get better with time, you WILL get smarter with time, you will improve your talent over time. You have to detach yourself from outcomes, whether positive or negative and just take it as life.

And this doesn’t happen overnight. It takes consistent effort to not feel fomo anymore or feel shitty.

You have to stop hesitating putting yourself first, putting your emotional needs first, standing up for yourself and saying a big fuck you to things that deserve it.

Not everything that you have today will be permanent in your life and that’s something you have to come to terms with.

But if your worth is fully dependent on other people, then you really need to sit down with yourself and start actually working on the relationship that matters the most - the one with yourself.

You’re intimidated by these influencers or the people who you want to be like, not because they wear designer bags, have cool outfits, vacations, boyfriends, girlfriends - but because they often have a very strong sense of identity.

They express what they like and don’t like. They don’t change themselves depending on the person in front of them. If there’s something they want, they go and get it. They pursue what makes them happy.

When do you plan on doing that for yourself?

So how do you do it?

You need to build a strong sense of self identity.

How? By dating yourself. Ask yourself questions that you would ask someone on a first date. What are your answers? These answers will not remain the same over time and they shouldn’t either. Here are some as a guide:

1. What do you like in general?

2. What do you dislike in general?

3. List all the things you like about yourself

4. List all the things you can improve about yourself

5. Where would you ideally want to be in 2 years?

6. What sort of a life do you wish you had right now?

Next step is continue dating yourself. Aim for one new experience a week. It doesn’t have to be major. It could be something simple such as a cooking a meal you’ve never made, solving crossword puzzles, trying to grow herbs, colouring books. With new experiences, you learn something about yourself, which allows you further build a connection with yourself. Literally date yourself.

Take care of yourself the way you would care for a partner. How do you want to be cared for? What makes you feel loved and appreciated? Show yourself the same things too.

#c suite #powerful woman #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #strong women #getting your life together #feminine energy #balance #inferiority complex #fomo #insecure #insecurity #confidence #confident #secure #how to become confident

875 notes · View notes

tarotwithlove · 3 months

Text

PAC ⋆ year of the dragon predictions!

choose your group, then scroll to the bottom and find a short word of advice for your sun, moon, or rising sign!

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · BOOK A 2024 YEAR AHEAD READING WITH ME (GENERAL OR NSFW) · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · six of cups, knight of wands, ace of cups, the world, the devil, knight of pentacles, spellcasting oracle: home, compassion, healing.

channelled songs · habibi by tamino. lucidia (egodeath) by ambré. hate it or luv it by central cee. ea’alah (family) by spillage village.

my dear group one ♡ this is a year of grounding and going within. you will be doing a lot of inner and shadow work this year, which will pay off immensely as this year goes on. in fact, the more you improve your connection with the divine -- the more you let go, and let god -- the more material success you will see.

on the topic of material success, this is an incredibly prosperous year where your career is concerned. you are going to achieve many of your life goals this year. so think big; dream big. don’t limit yourself. there has been an incredible shift for you in the universe, and with this shift also comes the reminder that the only person standing between you and the life you dream of is you.

this year, remember that whether you think you can or you think you cannot -- you are right.

love this year may be more tricky, with you often having to choose between a relationship or your career pursuits. though for most of you, this is a self-imposed choice you make out of fear of commitment.

know that you do not have to be afraid of love, my dear, and that you can be successful in your career even while in a relationship. look at victoria monet, who has finally broken into the mainstream and who has not had to sacrifice love or motherhood for it. you do not need to sacrifice it either. you can have a thriving personal life and a thriving professional life. you can have it all.

they say that one year can change your life, and for you, my dear, this is that year.

GROUP TWO

cards · the high priestess, two of swords, six of pentacles, nine of pentacles, knight of pentacles, justice, spellcasting oracle: truth, transformation, good luck.

channelled songs · this time by tracy chapman. the bomb by florence + the machine. my number one by gang of instrumentals. brand new city by mitski.

my dear group two ♡ this is a year of pause as you re-evaluate the course your life has taken and the course you want it to take from this moment forward. this may be a more slow moving year as you try to find your footing, and know that this is okay. some years are for rest, some years are for action. this is your year of rest and recuperation, of slowing down -- and getting help and aid -- so that you can come back better than ever. don't fight it. in fact, you need to allow it to happen.

your career may also slow down this year, and you may have to rely on donations or community help more than you had to in the past. some of you may be laid off this year, which pushes you to move back in with your family. this decision to move back in with family -- or share finances in some other way -- may also be a conscious one to give you to the ability to save more money and have more financial freedom in the future.

you may feel impatient this year, as if you are falling behind, but know that no such thing is possible. you are following the path you should. all things are falling into place as they should.

in love, however, you may find that you are particularly blessed this year. you may find a partner who truly understands and uplifts you -- uplifts you both emotionally and financially, as they support you through this difficult patch. this person will love you flaws and all, and you will love them the same in turn.

this relationship seems solid, and may result in an engagement and marriage even after knowing each other for a short time.

GROUP THREE

cards · the fool, seven of pentacles, queen of pentacles, the high priestess, six of cups, six of pentacles, spellcasting oracle: justice, friendship, prosperity.

channelled songs: ballroom extravaganza by dpr ian. party tricks by ayanna. to be honest by kai. pink + white by frank ocean.

my dear group three ♡ this is your year of new beginnings and limitless, limitless potential. anything you set your mind to, you can achieve -- or, rather, the one or two big goals you have set your mind to and are working towards, you will achieve. as long as you are willing to put in the work that is required of you. and, my dear, i get the feeling that you are one hundred percent prepared to put in all the hard work that is required of you. thus, your success is all but guaranteed. breathe out and trust in that; trust in the process; trust in the divine, who is on your side.

of course, this success also concerns what this year has in store for your career, with this being your most prosperous year yet. you are trusting yourself more this year, as well as trusting the divine, which leads you to keep holding your head up high and working hard even when you don't see the result you want -- yet. you are being more practical this year, saving more and spending less, trusting your gut, and putting yourself more and more out there. all of which will make you experience wealth and prosperity greater than you ever imagined.

this year, in love, it is as if you are blessed by the divine itself. by aphrodite herself. love this year brings you something you had lost -- an innocence regarding romance from a time before heartbreak and the state of the dating pool jaded you. turned your heart to stone.

you are giving and receiving in love this year, which may be something new to those of you who in the past were always the ones giving more. or who always found themselves on the unrequited side of a relationship. open your heart to love and know that you deserve this.

GROUP FOUR

cards · eight of swords, the devil, the world, the moon, ten of wands, seven of swords, strength, spellcasting oracle: commitment, trust, friendship.

channelled songs · bringin' on the heartbreak by mariah carey. lettera a mio padre by ermal meta. lagoons by kane strang. light by taemin.

my dear group four ♡ this year is one of fighting battles. you are fighting against your deepest fears and anxieties to complete a project or phase of your life. for some, this is a book or film that you have been working on for some time. for others, this is a stage of your academic journey. for all of you, whatever it is, you may have to fight against your limited beliefs constantly this year in order to get done everything that you need to get done. that little voice in the back of your head that tells you you’re not good enough may be louder than ever this year, but know that you are good enough. that what you’re creating is good enough.

these feelings also come into play in your career this year, with many things around your career being uncertain. especially if you are trying to break into a new field. you may be putting out application after application after application, without hearing anything back, which pushes you to be more innovative with the ways you earn money. or which pushes you to humble yourself and ask someone to set you up with a job while you try to get things sorted out in your professional life.

as for love this year of the dragon, you may be speaking up and using your voice more and more. being the first to ask someone out or to reach out and break the ice, or telling your partner when you desire something instead of letting it linger. you’re standing up for yourself more in love this year, which will make all your romantic relationships all the more fulfilling.

SHORT ADVICE FOR YOUR SIGN!

ARIES ·

focus on inner child healing, this year, and on connecting with the divine through fun ways. it’s one thing to pray and meditate every day, but how else can you connect with god, more like a child would? consider learning a traditional dance, or just dancing more. wear more traditional garb, visit festivals, draw out your prayers instead of writing or saying them. let loose and enjoy your spiritual journey.

LEO ·

you are greater than your anxiety and fear. you are greater than all those thoughts and worries that keep you up at night. remember this. don’t let your imposter syndrome control what you do and do not do this year. you are ready to embrace all the responsibility that is coming towards you, don’t let doubt win now that you are so close to winning.

SAGITTARIUS ·

this year, patience, commitment, and consistency are your best friends. you want to achieve so much -- you want the perfect job, the perfect body, the perfect life -- but how can you have any of it, if you aren’t willing to work for it? don’t rely on motivation this year, at all. only rely on discipline. motivation will get you nowhere, but discipline will bring you everything you desire.

TAURUS ·

look back, but don’t wallow. you cannot change what has passed, so what’s the point of falling into the trap of regret? and regret and regret? there is no going back, my dear, so stop focusing so much on it -- especially when what is coming towards you is so, so, so much better. believe this and keep moving forward with this in mind.

VIRGO ·

this year, you are in charge of breaking the cycle. you are holding onto so many things that no longer serve you. you know what they are. these old relationships, old beliefs, old mindsets… all these things that are only keeping you stuck in this rut… it’s time to look within and re-evaluate what you actually need in your life versus what you are holding onto out of fear and desperation.

CAPRICORN ·

why are you keeping yourself from enjoying all that life has to offer? doubt, fear, anxiety, imposter syndrome… these are keeping you from living up to your full potential this year. if you don’t speak up for yourself or put yourself out there, you reject yourself before you give anyone else the chance to. you lock the door on yourself.

GEMINI ·

trust your intuition as it is guiding you exactly where you need to go, and exactly away from what is only going to hold you back. you are a powerhouse, my dear, remember this much as you go through this year. and you know yourself better than you allow yourself to think.

LIBRA ·

ask yourself how you are holding yourself back from experiencing all of the above. you can have all of these things, but you may be keeping yourself from these things out of a deep feeling that you do not deserve any of it. who says you do not deserve success? who says you do not deserve love?

AQUARIUS ·

your life will change this year. completely and entirely. in ways you cannot even imagine. know that you have prayed for this and you are ready for what is to come. to take a deep breath. hold it. let it go. and smile as you look towards the future and thank the divine for how this year will turn your life around.

CANCER ·

it’s time to be selfish. you cannot pour from an empty cup. each time someone asks you for help this year, especially if it’s help that will drastically set you back, stop and ask yourself if they would ever do the same for you. if they won’t, politely decline and keep it moving.

SCORPIO ·

after so long of being ruled by your depression and negative thoughts, this year is filled with positivity and friendship and love. open your heart to it. why close your heart and run away when this is what you have been asking for for so long?

PISCES ·

this year, allow yourself to let go. time and time again. let go of obsessive, of delusion, of expectation, and trust that things are working out in your favour. and ask yourself how holding on has kept you from moving forward.

#**#lunar new year #year of the dragon #tarot #pac #pick a card #tarotblr #witchblr #witch of color #tarotcommunity #tarotcreator #tarotonline #divination #channelled message #channeled message #channeled reading

307 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 7 months

Note

You've encountered site changes over time as a fan elder, what do you make of Tumblr potentially being put out to pasture? Tumblr was my coming of age fan site, and im looking for advice to transition to the next thing with grace and less bitterness than I feel now.

Ahaha. God, you should have heard the howling about LJ. "Fandom is over!" "Never again shall we dwell in fandom's True Home!" etc.

Hell, this endless "only LJ was good" crap turns up in replies here on posts where I as OP have very clearly laid out why that's rose colored glasses nonsense and you can so make friends on tumblr, have a conversation on tumblr, etc.

I had my crabby phase about this during the transition from Yahoo Groups to LJ. A lot of the real olds had it over paper zines and the transition to the internet.

I don't know if reading these hilariously samey old posts would help. It does give perspective, I think.

As for what you should do, do what I did with Tumblr:

Look around to identify the Next Thing fandom is going to camp out on.

It may take a few guesses and some time to figure this out. You will likely not be an early adopter. Fandom was well established here by the time I joined at the end of 2010. Of course, by now, all those 2009 and before accounts are long gone, but at the time, I was a n00b joining other people's space despite having been in fandom for ages.

Don't expect to enjoy it

I didn't join tumblr because I liked it. In fact, I despised it. I kept right on despising it until a brief stint in Sherlock fandom, a fandom that was so active here at the time that I was able to finally see the good aspects of the site's structure and features.

This is the mistake a lot of people make. They give things a cursory try, don't enjoy them, and go "not for me", forgetting that the last site also had a steep learning curve that was either difficult or that they didn't notice because they were in a different phase of their life.

Bitterness and grief are, frankly, an inherent part of the process. You can try not to be a debbie downer in your public comments, but you can't just not feel those things during the awkward part of the transition. Sometimes, acting positive and cutting off excessively negative thoughts can make you feel less negative overall, but it doesn't happen immediately.

Accept that feeling cranky and old is both a you problem and a state of mind, not a property of the new site

Relatedly, the way we remember fandom platform X feeling usually has more to do with us being in college with fandom friends down the hall or having discovered Our People for the first time or some other time when we had a lot of energy and positive emotions. Often, we were in the throes of a first or new fandom love too, probably for some megafandom that other people also cared about at the same time.

When fandom is leaving some site, there's a grieving process anyway, but we're also often in a worse part of our lives for starting new things. We're busy. We're tired. We're between fandoms. We feel like we already paid our dues to build up our community. Why should we have to start again?

But let me tell you, you always need to start again eventually. I go to a weekly vidders' zoom chat, and a lot of the people in there are old as balls, including Kandy, the person who invented vidding back in the 70s. She's a lot of decades and a few cancers in, and she had to relearn how to vid on a computer after transitioning from slideshows to VCR vidding back in the day. If bad health, platform changes, and dead friends were going to stop her, she'd be long gone.

It's like sharks: you stop swimming, you die.

This isn't just about fandom, obviously. It's about avoiding a midlife crisis and, later, about avoiding feeling emotionally geriatric even when your body is falling apart.

Change gets us all, but being mentally old is a choice. The real reason I gave tumblr such a try was that I had been so resistant to getting on LJ. I was 20. Even a year later, it was fucking embarrassing to have been a crotchety old hag as a college student. I promised myself I'd soldier through the next change instead of dragging my feet about it. And it totally worked in the end! But boy did it not make the transition any less unpleasant emotionally!

Find your joy

As is obvious from the above, the vast majority of the problem is just emotions. Fandom has been on a million broken sites with shitty features. We go where the people are, regardless of whether it has the technological aspects we liked at the last place. The actual shape of that platform is largely irrelevant.

What does matter is whether we as an individual fan are still excited and happy about something. I was between fandoms recently and went looking around for BL series I hadn't watched yet. People kept suggesting things set in the present day with too-cheesy production values and too many banal schoolboys in modern day settings without even anything spicy going on. I realized that the BL/danmei scene wasn't really cutting it for me and I should go for production values and genre and non-canon ships. You probably scrolled annoyedly past the picspams that resulted.

(Of course, hilariously, someone has now shown me the trailer of Red Peafowl, so someone may be making BL that feels like it's for me after all. Look at all that badwrong and very dark color grading.)

When you're in a good place emotionally, it's a hell of a lot easier to weather any change, and when you have a new fandom, it's a lot easier to connect with other fans.

A lot of people wait around for lightning to strike twice. They found their first fandom by accident, and they expect it to happen seamlessly again. For me, it's far more productive to brute force it: collect up a big list of what's popular or what's new and go through it till you find things you might like, then try them all.

And part of this, obviously, is not waiting for other fans to make the party happen. The more you need to join something other people are already doing, the less choice you'll have in fandoms or in platforms. If you aren't picky and just go where the tropey longfic is, that can work, but even then, favorite authors disappear or go to fandoms you hate and former megafandoms dry up. If you're the one bringing the party, it's a lot easier to find a new fandom or platform or community to have fun in.

264 notes · View notes

torchwood-99 · 4 months

Text

The difference between a dry nurse and a healer

It's interesting how at a glance these two roles appear similar, and how Eowyn fiercely rejects the first yet embraces the latter, and what's more is vindicated in the narrative for rejecting the first, yet is celebrated for accepting the latter. So to understand Eowyn's arc, it's important to look at the differences between a dry nurse and a healer.

Eowyn states herself she is not a dry nurse. Gandalf points out to Eomer that part of Eowyn's depression comes from her having been forced into the role of dry nurse. And in his own commentary, Tolkien says that Eowyn isn't a dry nurse by nature. So that's the character, the in-narrative voice of reason, and the writer himself all saying that Eowyn is very much not a dry nurse.

Now, what is a dry nurse, and how does that differ from healer? A dry nurse nurses. Seeing as that was Eowyn's role with her uncle, we can presume that to be a dry nurse was to be like a carer, someone who takes care of a person and tends to them on a day to day basis. Eowyn's role wasn't to cure her uncle, but to make him comfortable and support him as best as she can.

This was a role that was foisted on Eowyn unwillingly, for she was a woman, and there's a prevalent idea that women are just "inherent carers", that is comes more easily to them and that this is is there natural role. That emotional burden, that denial of other choices, isn't seen as an injustice to Eowyn until Gandalf spells it out to Eomer at the end, because as a woman that's just what she's suited for. She shouldn't have wanted something else, and if she did, it meant she was either lacking in something, selfish or defective.

This all came at the expense of her own personhood, and so she ended up feeling like the "staff" Theoden leant on. She was his living crutch, and this dehumanisation played a massive part in her depression, which was made worse by Grima's influence.

For all that LOTR is a fantastical setting, Eowyn's plight was very grounded and applicable to modern day. As her uncle's carer, her life revolved around his needs and wellbeing, she was stuck in the home because she couldn't leave him alone, and her own hopes, her own dreams, ambitions and desires were put aside as of lesser consequence. And because she's a woman, and therefore naturally inclined and suited for all this, she should have felt alright with this, and any resentment on her part is a sign that there was something wrong with her.

She was isolated and stagnant and she felt she couldn't even speak of her resentment because it was her duty to tend to her uncle, (Gandalf tells Eomer that Eowyn didn't share much of her feelings because of the duty she felt to him), and all of this left her vulnerable to Grima's emotional abuse. This situation can so easily be transplanted into modern day.

Being a carer is a really difficult job, tending to both the physical and emotional needs of another person. It's emotionally draining and challenging and it's all the harder when it's a family member, as that doesn't allow you some of the distance and space that professional carers have, as well as a life outside work which allows you to enjoy other pursuits and interests.

It's a hard enough job for professional carers who genuinely feel a calling for it, who choose that role and find satisfaction in it and have a chance to decompress and lead lives of their own away from their work, but Eowyn never felt such a calling, and caring for Theoden wasn't her job but her life. Her life had been dedicated to tending to the needs of a single other person. And all the while she cared for him, she knew she couldn't heal him or prevent the awful things happening to her country. She wasn't a person, but a tool, and in her mind, a tool of limited ability.

No wonder she yearned to go and die gloriously. Her life was no life, and yet with a glorious death she could reclaim something for herself, exist in the songs as her own being with her own deeds. She could live on after her death as she has never lived in life.

In life, she could only watch as her brother and cousin and peers got to leave Edoras, where she was caged and hopeless, and go out and do stuff, with the ties of comradeship to support them. Already, without Grima's influence, it would have been easy for Eowyn to hate herself for her seeming uselessness, to resent the world and her society for shutting her into that role, and to hate herself for hating her role, for it meant she was a failure as a woman and a niece.

Compare that to the role of the healer. A healer, by its very definition, heals things. It fixes things. A healer can't always succeed, but that is the healer's goal. To heal.

Now, we don't know specifically what Eowyn meant by being a healer, whether she literally meant she wanted to train in the healing arts, to learn how to set bones, clean wounds, perform surgery or cure sickness, or if she meant she wanted to live a lifestyle given over to healing the world around her (her new home Ithilien needs clearing of orcs, is a military outpost, and and lies near Minas Morgul, so there is much to be healed there, with a sword too, yay!) or if she meant both.

A healer is active. A healer needs to leave the domestic sphere to go to where there is trouble and put it to rights, whereas a live in dry nurse stays in the home and tends to a patient in their domestic setting (which is partially why it's seen as a more feminine role).

Eowyn, fearless, longing for deeds and open fields, needs to get out, needs some risk, needs to be bold and needs to be able to do work which has some sort of final goal or success to fight towards. Being a dry nurse is being a lover, pouring out empathy and compassion and care, and being a healer is being a fighter, someone who faces challenges and overcomes them, and that is who Eowyn is by nature. Someone wants things and fights for them.

As a healer, Eowyn would have a variety of tasks; whether that be literal patients or general problems in the world, that need fixing, which gives her more change and also a break, for she won't have just one life she has to constantly attend to.

The active, combative nature that made her long to be a soldier is what makes her suited to be a healer (both literal and figurative), someone who is confronted with challenge after challenge and has to tackle them. Who must come up with a battle plan and then take up her tools and get to work, sticking at it until victory is won.

But whereas a soldier's business is bringing death, a healer's business is bringing life (even if that may mean clearing away dangers and sicknesses in order for that life to flourish. If Eowyn does mean healing figuratively, her work may often cross over into the work of the soldier, but the intent behind it will be different.) Becoming a healer reconciles Eowyn's desire to go to battle with the need for her to embrace life and peace.

She cannot stay at home "in the cage" because what needs healing is beyond her doorstep. And as a healer, when she has done her part healing others, healing the outside world, she can go home, which is now a sanctuary and not a cage, and then she gets to do something else.

As a healer, she will have deeds to accomplish and an existence beyond the walls of her home. And her home, being a place she now gets to leave, a place of comfort and leisure, is a home at last. It's a place she can escape to, not a place to escape from.

As Eowyn and Faramir play around with gender roles a fair bit, it's not surprising that Faramir, a man and a soldier and a bloody good one, is naturally more inclined to being a carer or "dry nurse" than Eowyn is, and in many ways he would have done much better as Theoden's carer than Eowyn did. (Not that Eowyn was bad as a carer, like Faramir she felt it was her duty and she put in the work, but Faramir would have personally coped with it better.)

If anything, it might have been a role that would have brought Faramir satisfaction, if not one completely devoid of heartache and difficulties, because even for those suited for it, being a carer requires a lot and is inevitably draining.

But Faramir is deeply compassionate, compassions and caring does come naturally to him, and he values it highly, so he would have taken pride in knowing he was easing another's suffering, He would have seen the successes and progress and been able to celebrate them. And crucially, his love of lore and studying would have been an escape and often a consolation for him, and given him something of his own to work on, so his own personhood wouldn't have revolved around who he was caring for. His work as a carer could have coexisted with his work as a scholar, and thus he would have been making use of both his natural empathy and intellectual curiosity.

Faramir is also very emotionally intelligent. He is very quick to understand others feelings, even before they do, and can give them very apt emotional support. See how he is with Eowyn, how understanding he is of her love for Aragorn (no resentment or jealousy, he gets it), and her despair and her inner conflicts, and is able to communicate with her really well due to that insight. Between the two, it is Faramir doing the bulk of the emotional support, which must come as a blessed relief for Eowyn after all that time as Theoden's living crutch.

This is also why they work so well as a pairing. They have both experienced what it's like to be a carer and a fighter, to carry the burden of warfare and nursing, and together they're a partnership capable of caring and fighting, dry nursing and healing. They can both do both, but where is inclined one way, the other is inclined another way, and thus they balance each other out.

#Lotr #Lord of the Rings #Eowyn #Faramir #Farawyn #meta

213 notes · View notes

theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

INEVITABLE [2]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, mentions of the slave trade, canon violence, blood and injuries

word count: 6,030

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words ‘I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

[previous] [next]

02: FALLING FOR YOU

"courage is knowing it might hurt, and doing it anyways. stupidity is the same. and that's why life is hard." ⏤jeremy goldberg

It had been a very long time since Din was nervous before a hunt. Wary, maybe, or concerned, but not nervous. He had retreated to the Razor Crest for the night, needing the time to mentally and emotionally spiral while in the safety of his own ship, then the next day he started tracking you down once more. Din thought surely you would’ve left Bespin entirely, but he tracked you back to a cantina. A different cantina. But still.

Just as he had yesterday, Din simply stepped into the building. He had planned to be more tactful today, but realizing you were in another cantina had been curious enough to throw him off entirely. You sat at the bar this time, turned so you could lean your back against the counter, with pretty eyes glancing around the room. Your eyes darted to him, away, then back again. Din expected a lot of reactions to his presence, but he never would’ve guessed that you’d roll your eyes with a huff and turn back around.

What the hell?

Din crossed the room. Grogu whined from inside the closed pram floating behind him. The child hated being locked away, and Din hated locking him away, but he didn’t trust himself around this quarry. And that’s what you were. A quarry. He had to remind himself of that again.

“Can I buy you a drink, bucket head?” You asked. Din narrowed his eyes at you in a glare⏤ knowing good and well you couldn’t see it, but it made him feel better to do it. You glanced over your shoulder at him with that same infuriating smirk you shot him yesterday. “What’s your poison of choice?”

“You’re coming with me.” Din demanded.

“Mmm, no thanks.”

Din shook his head, “That wasn’t a choice.”

“It kind of felt like a choice when I kicked your ass yesterday and ran.” You snickered. “Mandalorian.”

The way you said his title was mocking and it made Din’s skin bristle with irritation. His hands drifted to his hips and he leaned in toward you. “Get up now.”

You groaned. “Seriously, bucket head⏤”

“Don’t call me that.” He snapped.

“⏤what do I have to do to get you off my back?” You had continued on, unphased by his demeanor. “Credits? Is that what gets you going in the morning?” You turned back around, maintaining your confident posture, and it put your face by his. “I can get you some credits. Probably. Do you take IOUs?”

Din tried to keep his composure. He had dealt with plenty of quarries who mouthed off to him, but this was the quickest it had actually worked. Din leaned back to stand tall once more. You quirked an eyebrow up at him and he locked his jaw. He wondered if you could hear his teeth grind together. Din reached to his belt, pulling off the binders, and slammed them on the counter by you.

“Put them on.”

“That’s a bit lazy of you, don’t you think?” You replied. “At least all the other hunters I faced did their own dirty work.”

Briefly, Din felt a flash of anger at the thought of a bunch of hunters manhandling you. It was gone as quick as it came, and the feeling was replaced with annoyance that it came at all. This soulmate thing was becoming a real nuisance. Fine. You wanted to make this difficult? Din would be the bounty hunter you expected him to be.

Din grabbed you by the wrist roughly, spinning you in your seat so he could twist your arm behind you. His other hand grasped you by the back of the neck and he slammed you into the counter. The sound of your grunt of pain made his grip marginally loosen. He leaned in once more, “Anything to say now?”

“Now? No.” You replied. “But I’ll let you know if I think of something.”

If Din thought fate had been ridiculous before for picking a quarry as his soulmate, he was really hating it now. Not only was his soulmate a quarry, but it was a smartass slave trader with the most aggravating of smirks. Maker, he was looking forward to shoving you into the carbonite freezer. Din grabbed the binders off the counter and connected it to both your wrists behind your back. He ripped you up and out of your seat then without a beat he began to shove you out of the cantina.

You begun to kick your feet, slowing your pace, and Din grabbed you by your upper arm so he could drag you along as needed. Din turned his head to look at you in skepticism. Yesterday, you had been quick to plan an escape route, but now you were going willingly? He didn’t trust it.

“Tell me, why would you go to a second cantina knowing I’m chasing you?” Din blurted.

“You want me to just reveal my grand master plan? I think not.” You chuckled. “You can just keep on wondering, bucket head.”

“It’s… reckless.” Din wanted to use the word ‘stupid’, but he couldn’t force it out.

You shrugged best you could with his hand wrapped tightly around your arm. “I’m reckless. What’s your point?” He shouldn’t have even asked. Din shook his head and mumbled curses under his breath. He was able to get you a few more streets over before you cried out in pain and hunched over. “Ow, ow. Wait⏤ Hang on.”

Din’s feet skidded to a stop. “What?”

“My leg. I just⏤ Let me lean for a second, okay?” You grunted and limped over with him in tow to lean against a hand railing. Din looked for any obvious injuries. “You’ve been dragging me down the road, you ass.”

Guilt rolled through him like a crashing wave no matter how much he tried to hold it back. His fingers loosened around your upper arm. Half a sigh left his lips a fist suddenly slammed up into his side right under his diaphragm making his breath stutter. Din spun, but you had already hooked one end of the binders around his wrist and the other to the metal bar you had been leaned against. He went to grab you, but you threw yourself over the bar and away from him. His hand shot to his blaster, but Din found it in your hand.

“How…” He breathed and glanced down at his situation.

Din reached for the keys on his belt, but while one of your hands held him at blaster point the other held up the keys. He blinked in shock. Din would never admit it aloud, he could barely admit it to himself, but he was mildly impressed. In fact, he’d be very impressed if his anger wasn’t overshadowing everything else.

“I’m a pickpocket. Should’ve warned you.” You shrugged. “Listen, how about we end our working relationship here.” Din huffed and tried to pull his arm free from the metal bar uselessly. “I’ve hit all the cantinas I need to in this city so I’m gonna be on my way, and I’m gonna leave you here. Let’s just agree to part ways as bitter friends.”

Din gnashed his teeth. “Release me. Now.”

“Yikes.” You made a clicking noise with your mouth. “You’re not exactly in the position to be making demands, bucket head.” You threw the key over your shoulder and then tossed the blaster as well⏤ so both would be out of reach from him. “It was so nice to meet you, by the way. Would love to never meet up again.”

You winked at him and he glared at you the entire time you sprinted away. Din turned to the pram to see Grogu had already opened the hatch and was staring at him. Din tugged on the binders once more, fruitlessly, then motioned to them. Grogu hopped out of his pram with a mischievous giggle and Din let his head fall against the metal bar with a ‘clang’.

The Mandalorian was pestering. You had a bad feeling he wouldn’t just give up. In fact, arguably, he could come after you with a vengeance after you hooked him to a metal bar. He’d get out free, but you hoped you could get a few worlds away before he did. You had a feeling no matter who he asked on the street to grab the key and blaster they’d steer around him without making eye contact. The faults of being an intimidating Mandalorian, you supposed.

You were on your way back to the local tarmac in hopes that you could bum a ride off someone. As you walked, you had pulled out your list to scratch names off. Technically, there were a few other places you needed to check, other cities, but it’d be a little awkward for you to sit in your third cantina of this world and have the Mandalorian walk in again. Maybe for now you’d put off the rest of Bespin and come back later.

“Lookie, lookie.” A whiny voice sang in a tone that made you wince. A slimy looking human stepped into your path from around the corner. A group of four other unfamiliar men stepped out behind him. He whistled. “The Mandalorian’s friend is all alone.”

You narrowed your eyes in disbelief. “Friend? Excuse me?”

“Don’t play coy.” He snapped. “We saw you with him.”

“Yeah, alright, and what part of seeing us together made you think we’re friends?” You scoffed. “Was it the part where I broke a bar stool over his head or when he put me in a pair of binders?”

The men behind the first began to mumble skeptically, but the first refused to cave, “No, no. I’m telling you the two of them are⏤ look! Look, here he comes to save her already!” You stiffened in shock and whirled around to see the silver Mandalorian stalking toward you from down the road. How in the hell had he gotten out that quickly? “What did I tell you, boys?”

You scanned the area. To your right were the backs of buildings and the closest alley was further down, beyond the men blocking you. To your left was literally nothing. A protective guard rail and a view of the clouds. So that was out. And now you had a fucking bounty hunter stalking you from behind. Great.

“How about this,” You hissed, “Let me pass then you can beat up on the tin can, yeah?”

“Boss, I don’t think she’s⏤”

“Fine, fine, whatever.” The man snapped. “Get the kriff out of our way.” You gave the Mandalorian, who had paused, a brief salute and hurried past the men who left a space for you. You got a few steps away when you heard the man speak once more. “Don’t forget, I want that beskar. As for the kid, we can just sell it.”

You came to a screeching stop. A chill ran up your spine. A kid? You turned around to see the men slowly approaching the Mandalorian who continued to stand his ground. The pram behind him now rested right beside him and the hatch was open to reveal a small, green creature with large ears and wide, innocent eyes. A kid. Fuck.

The men had completely forgotten about you to focus on the Mandalorian so not a single one of them noticed when you began to approach them once more. In a swift, practiced motion, you drew your dagger and threw it with a precision that came from years of ingrained muscle memory. The blade buried itself into the back of the closest man, and his scream of agony made his friends pause and whirl back around. The Mandalorian took this as his opportunity to strike.

You lunged forward to get your blade back while hiding behind the man’s body best you could to avoid being hit by stray blaster fire. He spun, startling you, and began to swing out to try and make contact. You ducked under his arms to avoid a blow but that put you further into the fray. You didn’t notice the attack coming from your side until an elbow slammed into your face. You heard a crunch, felt the warm blood spray down your face, and with a groan, you hit the ground dazed. One on one you did fairly well in a fight, but more than that and you struggled. You rolled over and glanced up to see even more people showed up to the fight⏤ all friends of the ones you were fighting. They came up from behind the Mandalorian.

Once you were on the ground, it seemed like nobody cared about your presence at all. They swarmed the bounty hunter in a mass. You knew beskar was rare, but this seemed like overkill. A young cry filled the air and you spotted one of the men rushing toward you with a squirming bundle in his arms. The roar of anger that left the Mandalorian was ground shaking, words in a language you didn’t recognize ringing loudly, and it was followed by a wave of fire from his vambrace as he took on every single adversary that came at him.

You jumped up as the guy with the kid rushed by, and on instinct you ran after. Your face throbbed with pain, but you didn't let it hinder your speed. Luck was on your side and the man ended up cornering himself by staying too close to the railing. When he tried to turn down a different road you were able to cut him off and back him up against the guard rail once more.

He reached for the blaster at his hip, but you were faster. You drew the weapon from under your jacket and aimed it at his head. “Don’t.”

“What?” The man narrowed his eyes. “What the kriff is that?”

“Firearm.” You replied. “Nice, isn’t it?” He shifted and you tilted your head. “The slug in this weapon isn’t meant for you. Set the kid down, and I’ll let you walk away.”

The child in his arms squirmed enough to be able to look at you and even from this distance you still couldn’t tell what species it was. But, you could see the kid was young⏤ a toddler at best. You stayed firm in your stance, and the man was nervously shifting as if trying to gauge how serious you were. As if to prove your point further, you pulled back on the revolver’s hammer so the slug clicked into place.

Slowly, the man held the kid away from his chest in surrender but he stopped suddenly, “How do I know you won’t shoot me the second I hand the kid over?”

“I told you,” You said, “This slug has someone else’s name on it.”

“What about the Mandalorian?” He cried. “He’ll kill me.”

“Probably.” You shrugged. “But I figure, you set the kid down and you’ll have time to run at the very least. You hurt the kid, and that block of angry beskar is going to stomp your teeth down your throat.” You gave him a mocking grin. “So, make your choice and make it quick.”

Blaster fire came much too close and you had to duck to avoid being hit by a stray bolt. The Mandalorian was barreling in your direction while the last few fighters fired after him. He barked something and you turned back to see the man holding the kid had been hit. He slumped to the side, hitting the guard rail, and with a surprised chirp the kid went right over the side of the city.

You dropped the firearm and leapt over the edge right after him.

It was perhaps one of your least thought out plans, but the moment your hands grasped the kid you spun in the air and used all the momentum you had to throw him right back over the rail. The few broken bones or concussion he might get from being thrown so violently was better than the fate you were about to meet. Loud wind whipped past you as you fell. This is not how you thought you’d be leaving the world of the living and despite your entire body being filled to the brim with terror and fear as you hurtled through the air there was still just enough room for regret to take root.

Not regret at leaping over the edge for a kid you didn’t know.

Regret that you never got to see the life leave Viktor’s greedy eyes.

Nothing could have surprised you more than a solid force tackling you from behind. The air left your lungs while firm arms wrapped around you and the trajectory of your fall changed as you were suddenly being rocketed up. Glancing over your shoulder best you could, you spotted a chest of silver beskar. Before you could comprehend what was happening your feet touched down on solid ground. The hands wrapped around you dropped and you found yourself falling to your hands and knees⏤ still shaky from falling a few hundred feet.

“Patu.” A chirp followed by excited babbling made you lift your head to see the child standing right in front of you. He reached out and gave your face a little pat. He looked entirely unharmed. The situation was starting to become clear once more and you saw your firearm lying on the ground out of your peripherals.

You lunged for the weapon, but a heavy boot dropped down to rest on it⏤ pining it to the ground. Sheepishly, you peered up to see the Mandalorian staring down at you with his hands on his hips. You pressed your lips together and then scrunched your nose out of habit only to wince in pain from the movement. You cleared your throat. “We, uh, need to stop meeting like this.”

“Get up.” He said tensely. You sighed and pushed to stand, dusting off your pants, and tried to puzzle out if you could make a clean getaway by breaking into a sprint now. The Mandalorian stepped forward, lifting a hand to your face and you flinched back. “Stop. Stay still.”

The bounty hunter’s hands cupped your face in an almost tender way. Your eyes widened in confusion both at his actions and the flickering flame of warmth that sparked in your belly at being this close to a man who was hunting you. His hands shifted, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, and then he used both thumbs to snap your nose into place. You let out a howl of pain and shoved him back, “What the⏤” You lifted to touch your nose and realized it wasn’t nearly as tender anymore. “What the hell, man!?”

“Your nose was broken.” He replied.

“Yeah? Well, warn a girl!” You scoffed.

The Mandalorian tilted his head. “Would you have let me fix it if I warned you?” No. Of course not. You mocked him under your breath by mumbling his words. He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For saving my son.”

You glanced back at the small child standing by your boot now. He gave your leg a little pat before waddling over to this father. The Mandalorian picked him up and you wondered if the man under the armor was just as green as the kid. How did he fit ears like that under his helmet?

You pointed down to his boot, “That’s mine. Giving it back to me and letting me walk away would be a real cool thank you gift.” The metal pram from earlier drifted toward the two of you and when it came to a stop the boy jumped from the armored arms holding him into the floating crib. You were surprised to see the man move his boot out of the way and bend over to pick up your weapon. The Mandalorian held it out to you and your lips twitched up in excitement. “Glad to see we could settle this, bucket head.”

The second your hand grabbed the firearm you realized he wasn’t letting it go, but before you could tug or even speak his other hand shot up and clicked one binder around your wrist. You gasped, “You dick.” You could’ve sworn a chuckle left the helmet’s modulator. He tucked the firearm into his belt and then clicked the other half of the binder to his own wrist. “Is this because I called you bucket head?”

“That didn’t help.”

“So, I save your kid, and you still arrest me?”

“Yes.” He nodded and leaned into your space to pull the blade from the sheath around your thigh. He tucked that into his belt as well and took a few steps away. You dug your heels in. “Walk.”

“What about⏤”

“Walk.”

You grumbled in annoyance and picked up your feet. He seemed nonplussed with having to drag you down the road and it looked like his end goal was the tarmac where you had initially planned to be. The pram lingered beside you and the green child was babbling excitedly as if the two of you were having a full blown conversation. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Your kid talks a lot.” You said, tugging on the arm connected to him⏤ not that it seemed to bother him.

“So do you.” He hit back.

“That’s…fair.” You admitted. “Where are you taking the savior of your child?”

“I could’ve saved him without you.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, well, if I knew you had a kriffing jackpack I would’ve let you.” The Mandalorian came to a sudden stop and it jerked on your arm. “Bucket head, come on! Seriously?”

“You didn’t know I had a jetpack?”

You narrowed your eyes at him trying to figure out the catch behind this obvious trick question. You shook your head. “Why would I know that?”

“When we met, I saw you watching me.” He replied. “You were checking me for all my weapons.”

You winked, “Maybe I was just checking you out.”

“Stop.” The Mandalorian said firmly and started walking again. The two of you got a few more feet before he spoke up once more. “If you didn’t know I had a jetpack, why would you jump over the edge?”

“Did you miss the part where your kid went flying over first?”

“You’d be willing to die for a stranger?”

You shrugged. “He’s a kid.” The Mandalorian stopped again and turned to stare at you. Your eyebrows furrowed in mild annoyance. Why was this conversation still happening? Maker, at this point you were hoping to be thrown in a carbonite freezer just to avoid his heavy gaze and questions. “Can you finish arresting me please?”

After a beat, the Mandalorian began to walk and you took that as a victory. You’d take what you could get today.

Watching that bastard grab Grogu and run away while he was left trapped in a mob of smugglers was the most rage Din had felt in quite a long time. He had been ruthless in cutting down the men that swarmed him, and he would’ve killed every last one in that moment if he had the time. As soon as he had a window, Din was sprinting after the man who had taken his son.

Din hadn’t even realized you were still around until he saw you holding the man at the end of your weapon. The blaster bolts that fired around him missed you by an inch, but it hit the man right in the side and all of Din’s rage turned to fear when he watched Grogu get thrown over the edge. Even knowing he’d be able to fly after him⏤ it didn’t stop his stomach from turning to lead. Then fear morphed into absolute confusion when he watched you drop your weapon and literally leap over the railing. You disappeared out of sight and seconds later Grogu came flying over the railing back to safety. Din lunged forward to catch the kid before he hit the ground.

“Gev!” Din set Grogu on the ground, pointing at the boy to make it known he was serious, and then Din dove over the edge.

He didn’t understand, couldn’t fathom, what was going through your head. What kind of quarry would stop mid-escape to risk their life in the way you had? You had been in the clear. The smuggler’s let you pass and instead of disappearing when the opportunity presented itself, you came back and stabbed one of them. Din hated to admit it, but he had also been very aware that you stayed in the fight and he had a visceral reaction to watching you get elbowed in the face hard enough to collapse.

It was how the smugglers got the opportunity to grab Grogu.

Like a kriffing idiot, he had gotten distracted and nearly lost his son because of it.

‘He’s a kid.’ Your voice echoed through his head the entire walk to the tarmac. Initially, Din had been confused why you’d trust him to actually catch you. Did you actually know who he was? Your soulmate? And you assumed he’d have to catch you? But, when you admitted that you had no idea he even had a jetpack, Din felt floored. You hadn’t jumped over the edge trusting he’d catch you. You jumped over the edge thinking it was going to be the last thing you ever did, and you did it to save a stranger. No, a kid. That’s what you said. The look on your face, the tone of your voice, it was natural instinct for you. The obvious choice.

You hadn’t given sacrificing your life for a child a second thought.

Din hadn’t decided yet if that made you honorable or insane.

A thought drifted through him before he could stop it. It was an action taken right out of a Mandalorian’s playbook. He forced it out of his head. You were not a Mandalorian. You were a quarry wanted for slave trading. A quarry. His soulmate quarry. Dank farrik. Din lowered the ramp of the Razor Crest and led you on.

“Can I use the fresher before you shove me in carbonite?” Din did a double take at your words⏤ a common occurrence with you he was learning. You seemed to be entirely serious with your request though. You shrugged nonchalantly. “Being frozen with a full bladder is miserable.”

“You’ve been in carbonite before?”

You paused then pointed to your face with a tight lipped smile. “Bounty.”

“I’m not putting you in carbonite.” Din replied. He ignored the confusion drawn on your features and closed the ramp. Din then unlatched the binders and pointed down the very short hall. When Peli had rebuilt the Crest for him he had it modified for just a bit more space, but the fresher was nearly laid out in the same position. “Fresher’s that way. There’s no weapons in there.”

Din wanted to get the ship up in the air right now, but he didn’t trust you not to make a break for it. He got Grogu settled with a ration bar and then he perched himself on the edge of a supply crate facing toward the fresher. While waiting, Din pulled your weapon out from his belt and admired the metal work. A slugthrower. Impressive. He hadn’t seen one in a hot minute, and this one was built by someone who knew what they were doing. The dark metal was carved with swirls and designs of gold. The handle carved in wood and ivory. Though he hadn’t seen one in ages, Din was familiar with firearms. He popped out the ornate cylinder and raised an eyebrow at the single slug loaded in. All other five slots were empty.

The other weapon you carried was a simple metal dagger. Not as rare, but vibroblades were more popular.

The mystery of who you were seemed to grow with every second he was stuck with you.

Din set the firearm down by his thigh and unintentionally his hand drifted up to rest over his left ribcage where your words stained his skin. ‘Would you really arrest your soulmate?’ All those years he thought those words, rolled them around in his head, there was a sharp difference. Now, he heard the words in your voice rather than his own. Even once he rid himself of you, that would linger.

He heard you shifting in the fresher and drew his own blaster to rest on his thigh⏤ pointed toward where you’d be, but with the trigger finger resting on the side of the weapon. He didn’t think he’d need to use it, but if Din had learned one thing about you thus far it was that you were unpredictable.

The fresher doors slid open and you stepped out. When your eyes landed on him, you let out a huff and lifted your hands in surrender. “You did a lot of work to just shoot me now.” Din motioned to the ladder leading up into the cockpit with his blaster. “You… want me to climb?” He pushed off the crate and gave a single nod. “Yeah, alright, sure.” You sighed and walked to the ladder. You paused to glance over your shoulder to Grogu who was still scarfing down his ration bar. “Your dad is kind of a dick. Anybody tell you that before?”

“Buir!” Grogu laughed and followed it with babbling.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” You mumbled to yourself and began to climb. Din followed. He wanted answers from you as much as he wanted to get off this world. At the top of the ladder, Din passed you and ushered you into the cockpit. He pointed to the passenger seat and didn’t miss how you rolled your eyes before dropping down. Din took his own seat, but spun the pilot’s chair around to face you first. He pulled the binders from his belt.

“Hands.” He ordered.

“Oh, good.” You smirked and offered him your wrists. “I was starting to miss these things.”

Din clamped them in place then turned back to begin lift off. It wasn’t until hyperspace that he turned back around, and Din was startled to see your eyes had been drooping closed. At his movement, they snapped open once more and your posture stiffened. He took the moment to really soak you in. Specifically, he let his eyes trace the golden band around your neck⏤ the lights of hyperspace reflected off the material same as it did his own beskar. At first glance, he’d label it a gaudy accessory that didn’t match the worn down nature of the rest of your outfit. However, even from here Din could see the faint scars that half hid under the gold.

It wasn’t a necklace. It was a collar.

“What now, bucket head?”

“Now, you tell me why someone who is clever enough to escape multiple bounty hunters is reckless enough to visit another cantina right after running into me.”

You shrugged. “Maybe you’re not as intimidating as you think you are.”

Din leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, “All the other hunters find you in bars as well. Why’s a slave trader visiting every cantina in the galaxy?”

He really doubted the backstory the bounty puck was giving him now, seeing the metal that adorned your neck, but Din wanted to see your reaction. There was a brief flash of anger across your face, gone as quick as it came, and Din could tell you were biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from saying whatever words were spinning around in your head right now. Finally, you smirked, “I’m on the search for the galaxy’s best cocktail.” You leaned forward. “You wouldn’t believe what world is in the lead, Mandalorian.”

Din wasn’t sure what was more ironic⏤ that fate lumped him together with a quarry or that fate picked a person who never knew when to shut up. He shook his head, “You asked me earlier what it would take to get me off your back.” Your eyes marginally widened. “Do you still want to know?”

“Name it.” You answered.

“I want answers.” He stressed and watched as your jaw locked in irritation again. “What are you searching the galaxy for?”

For a long moment, you just stared at him. Din could see you analyzing him. It was that simple action, and the way he saw you sizing him up when you first met, that told him you weren’t just some mouthy, arrogant idiot. You were clever. It was probably how you escaped so many bounty hunters in the past.

You shrugged, “Revenge.”

The answer didn’t necessarily startle him. It was only revenge, love, and greed that could have someone dedicate so much time to their end goal. Piecing together the parts of the puzzle he had gave him a blurry image. Din nodded, “Whoever you’re going after, do they deserve it?”

“Yes.” You replied without even a pause. “They do.”

You didn’t fully understand the line of questioning being thrown your way, but considering the options it wasn’t the worst scenario you found yourself in. The Mandalorian had turned back around without another word after asking you his last question and it now left you sitting in your seat exhausted and confused. More than anything you craved sleep. After your last 24 hours that wasn’t surprising. What did surprise you was how easily you were dozing off while being in this too small cockpit with the Mandalorian bounty hunter. It was like your stupid body didn’t perceive him as a current threat.

Maybe he wasn’t. He said he wasn’t going to throw you in the carbonite freezer, and from what you knew about Mandalorians they were the type who held honor above nearly everything else. You had given your freedom to save his kid and you prayed he didn’t take that action lightly.

“I have another question.” The Mandalorian spoke without turning.

“Alright, but if you get another one then I’m allowed one now too.” You argued.

You just barely saw the tilt of his helmet in agreement. A part of you hoped he was done questioning you about your goals in life. It wasn’t a topic you wanted to explore any further with this stranger. But, the Mandalorian caught you off guard by veering far away from his previous questions.

“What you said when we met…” He hummed, “What did you mean by that?”

“The soulmate thing?” You snorted. “Yeah, hilarious, isn’t it? You spooked me for a second with how quiet you got after I said it, but now I know silence is just your go-to intimidation tactic, bucket head.” From where you sat you could see him stiffen and assumed it was from your chosen nickname for him. “Does your kind even have soulmates? Do I need to explain⏤”

“My kind?” He finally glanced over at you.

“Yeah. Whatever you are.”

“I’m human.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you’re not allowed to sound so surprised that I didn’t know. You’re covered from head to toe in metal, and I just assumed you were the same kind as your kid.”

“Grogu was…adopted.” He replied.

Huh. Grogu. That was the kid’s name. Well, that was one of two that you got. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees after he turned back around to scan a map on the control panel. “So? What do I call you then? What’s your name?”

“Mando. You can call me Mando.”

“Mando as in Mandalorian?” You laughed. “Maker, even ‘bucket head’ is more imaginative than that. You seriously go by that?” Mando didn’t reply and you snickered some more under your breath before leaning back. “I’ll consider it, bucket head.”

You could hear him mumble a string of words that you were going to assume was his native language. You'd also assume he was cursing. That's usually the response you got. The cockpit was filled with the comfortable silence of hyperspace and despite being seated on a metal chair, you began to doze off again. It was getting harder and harder to keep your heavy lids open, and faintly you thought you heard the Mandalorian speak once more before you lost the battle against unconsciousness.

“Sleep, mirdala runi. You’re safe.”

mando'a translations:

gev: stop (stay) /// buir: Parent (father) /// mirdala runi: Clever soul

taglist: @onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl @garbo-lesbo @moonlqghts @stokeholdsblogdsblog @morks-watermelon @http-onie

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x reader #female reader #reader insert

660 notes · View notes