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yanderenightmare · 8 months

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TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference

gn reader

Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...

“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.

“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….”

“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way.

“You...”

You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.

“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”

He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.

“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”

You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”

You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.”

You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.

“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.

You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.

“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.

“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.

You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.

He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.

“You’re being childish.” You stated.

“Childish?!”

His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.

"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.

"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."

Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.

“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.

“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.

Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.

“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.

“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”

“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.

But it would seem he was beyond reason…

“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”

You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...

But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.

“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.

Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.

“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”

You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.

“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.

And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.

The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had.

“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”

“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.

“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”

You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.

“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”

You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.

You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.

“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Isagi

AOT – Eren

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

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pedrospatch · 2 months

Text

call it what it is

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel. fair warning, i am quite rusty.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: hi hello. i have not shared a wip in over 2 months. i was going back and forth on whether or not i wanted to share a fic with so much going on but decided i wanted to get back to doing what i enjoy. that and ofc that new footage was a boost of inspo. i am sending so, so much love to anyone who happens to see this author note, whether you read this fic or just happen to see this note in passing whilst scrolling. i know things have been tough, but i am here with you. <3

Joel wakes with a gentle start. Yawning, he rolls over from his side onto his back, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as warm, golden sunlight filters into the bedroom through the sheer, white linen curtains drawn over the window. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing slow, steady, and even. He’s still getting used to it, it seems. Waking this calmly, with a tranquil peace he had been so certain he would never in his life feel again. He knew it couldn’t be a mere coincidence the nightmares had all but stopped tormenting him in his sleep when the two of you stopped doing that awkward little tap dance around one another and began sharing a bed, a home, a life.

No more bolting upright in sheer panic in the middle of the night, heart pounding and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. No more believing he’s failing in his sleep. No more waking up feeling like he’s lost something.

Even his dreams about Sarah had become so, so much more pleasant. Images of her in that field on that night were replaced by different memories, like watching her teammates dogpile her after she’d scored the winning goal in their soccer tournament, or the big, triumphant grin she’d flashed him over her chocolate milkshake as the pair sat in their usual corner booth at their favorite fifties-themed diner in Austin—much to Joel’s surprise, Sarah had politely declined her teammates’ invitation for pizza once the match ended, choosing to celebrate her victory with him. Just the two of them.

“Y’sure you don’t wanna go with your friends, kiddo?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow. He had been certain she was approaching the age where she would start spending less and less time with her old man. “I wouldn’t mind, y’know.”

“Positive,” she had reassured him with a smile, looping her arm through his and leading him off the pitch. “I’d much rather be with you, dad.”

Rather than smelling metallic in his slumber, he smells the grass that stained her white and blue striped jersey. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt, not with crimson.

Stifling another loud yawn, Joel stretches his arm out over towards your side of the bed, his calloused fingers seeking the warmth and softness of your naked body—instead, all they find are empty sheets, cold and long abandoned. He turns his head, and as suspected, you are not laying there beside him. That’s hardly out of the ordinary. Out of the two of you, you were the early riser, up before the neighbors’ rooster even had the chance to sound the alarm. Joel knows how much you treasure your quiet mornings lounging on the porch swing he’d built for you as you watched the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee in hand. He often made a genuine effort to get up and join you, but lately, his patrol rotations had been all over the place thanks to a shortage of patrolmen. He found himself sleeping in whenever he had the chance, seeing as he never knew when he might have to work a damn double. Or maybe it was just his age catching up with him.

He checks the time and then rolls out of bed, groaning when his sore knees and his aching lower back protest his movement.

After taking a quick shower using whatever hot water the kid had left for him after her own shower—much to his annoyance, it was not very much—Joel brushes his teeth and gets dressed for the day before pulling on his boots and heading downstairs into the kitchen where he finds the culprit responsible for the cold downpour he’d been forced to wash himself under. Ellie’s sitting at the table, absentmindedly stirring her oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon as she flips through one of her comic books. Just as he’s about to greet her, he spots the clean, empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter and frowns. You hadn’t even made coffee yet?

Now, that—that is out of the ordinary.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“Well, good morning to you too, old man. Oh, I slept great, thanks for asking,” Ellie quips without looking up at him as she flips the page. She mumbles something under her breath he doesn’t quite catch, something like, and you get on my ass about my manners?

Rolling his eyes, Joel snorts in response and pads over to the coffee maker on the counter. He spoons in some of the grounds he’d traded for earlier that week into the reusable filter, pours in water from the tap, and turns it on to brew. He grabs two ceramic mugs from the wire dish rack beside the sink and sets them down on the counter. “She out back?” he questions, yanking the refrigerator door open—he tries to remember the little things, like how you enjoyed your coffee with a bit of milk as well as a dash of cinnamon, if you had the rations, or something to trade for the precious spice. He always made sure that you did.

“Nope.” Ellie shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and adds thickly, “She went to get some eggs.”

Joel shoots her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “Jesus, Ellie! How many times do I gotta tell you? Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners,” he scolds her, shaking his head. He turns his attention back to the refrigerator. As he reaches for the glass bottle of milk, he pauses and his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he sees the wicker basket on the top shelf. “Wait a minute.” He feels her stiffen in her chair. “Why the hell would she go get eggs when we’ve got a full basket of ‘em right here in the fridge?”

She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, my bad. I got confused. Think she said she was gonna go get more honey? Uh, I used the last of it to make my breakfast this morning and she, uh—she wanted some for her toast. You know, ‘cause she really likes putting honey on her toast,” she rambles before piling more oatmeal into her mouth.

Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as uneasiness settles deep in the pit of his stomach. “Ellie?”

There’s a momentary pause. “...yeah?”

This time, Joel doesn’t bother to chastise the teenager for talking with her mouth full. “Where is she?”

Ellie nervously swallows her food and holds up both of her hands. “Hey, I already fucking told you, man.”

“Look, I know you like the back of my own hand, kiddo. And I know damn good and well when you’re lying to me.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “Now tell me the truth. What do you know that I don’t?”

Groaning, Ellie sits back in her chair. “Ugh. She made me swear not to tell you! She’ll fucking strangle me if I do—”

“Yeah, well, not if I fuckin’ strangle you first myself,” he threatens her. “M’Serious, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“Alright, alright! Jesus,” she huffs. “She’s with Tommy. He’s been taking her out of town to do target practice in the mornings, just the two of them. She usually gets back to the house before you get up,” she admits.

Joel’s arms fall back to his sides, his shoulders tense. “And how long has this been goin’ on?” he asks, rigidly. There’s a sudden tightness inside his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt it in a while, but is still all too familiar to him.

After Tommy spread the word around town that more people were needed for patrol duties, you’d expressed an interest in the role, but Joel had been all too quick to shut you down, telling you he didn’t want you stepping foot outside the community’s gates.

“No,” he’d said. “Not happenin’. S’too dangerous.”

“But Joel—”

“I said,” he lowered his voice. “No.”

He hadn’t offered you an explanation as to why he was against it, refused to give you one good, solid reason as to why it was acceptable for him to risk his own life to protect Jackson, but it wasn’t acceptable for you to do the same.

Joel hadn’t known how to tell you the truth. How he needed you far, far more than you needed him, how the mere thought of losing you, the best fucking thing that could have possibly happened to him since the world ended, made him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A few weeks had passed since then, and thankfully, you never brought it up to him again. You had lost interest in patrol duty. Or so he’d thought.

“How long has this been going on?” he repeats after a minute.

“C’mon, man! Haven’t I already snitched enough?”

“Ellie,” Joel bites out her name. “Tell me. How long?”

She sighs in defeat. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” When she notices the muscle in his jaw tick, she grimaces. “You do realize why she didn’t fucking tell you, right?”

“Don’t,” he warns her, sharply.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie mutters, peering down into her bowl.

Without another word, Joel angrily storms past her and straight out the front door, snatching up his rifle on the way. He heads straight for the stables, trying to ignore the anxiety flaring inside of his chest.

Focus.

Now, breathe in. And breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe...

You exhale as you slowly squeeze the trigger.

Y’squeeze it like you love it, you had been told by your reluctant instructor.

The round fires off into the distance and you swiftly grab the bolt handle, bringing it up, back, forward, and then down again. You pull the trigger once more, then repeat and continue firing one shot after the other for a total of five rounds.

The rifle’s recoil nearly sends you flying backwards, but a strong hand on your back keeps you nice and steady. That same hand then moves to your shoulder and gives you three firm taps.

“Alright, alright! Christ,” Tommy laughs. He withdraws his arm from around you and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ calm down, Annie Oakley.”

Picking up his binoculars, he rises to his feet and looks through the lens at the makeshift targets that he’d set up for you, three empty soup cans lined up in a row on top of a wooden fence about twenty-five yards away—your longest shooting distance to date.

“Well?” You don’t even bother masking your impatience as you lower the rifle, carefully propping the weapon up against the tree stump you’re perched behind. Rubbing your sore shoulder, you hope the kickback won’t leave a bruise. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to Joel. “How did I do?”

His response comes in the form of a long, low whistle.

There is no telling if that had been good whistle, or if it had been a bad one. You groan. Now was not the time for him to dick around. “Please tell me I got at least one of them?”

“You got ‘em all, actually.” Tommy replies, lowering the binoculars and peering down at you. There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good job, kid.”

Kid? Not exactly a nickname one wants to be called by the brother of the much, much older man that they are romantically involved with. It’d taken Tommy months to accept your relationship with Joel, especially when you moved your things out of your unit and into his over the summer. Part of you wonders if him referring to you as a kid is simply his own subtle way of telling you—no, of reminding you, that he’s still not comfortable with it.

And perhaps he never would be.

After all, you had still been a teenager when you first arrived to Jackson a few years ago, stumbling upon the town just a few months shy of the twentieth birthday you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to see.

You were indeed a kid when you’d met Tommy Miller.

Were.

Scowling up at him, you snap, “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not nineteen anymore, Tommy.”

Having read your mind, he gives you a small smile and acknowledges, “Yeah, you’re right. You definitely ain’t a kid anymore.” He offers you his hand and hoists you up to your feet. Before dropping your hand, he gives it an apologetic squeeze.

You relax a little and smile back at him. “Did I really get all three?”

Tommy nods. “You sure did. You’re a damn good shot. I gotta be honest with you—I didn’t expect you to be this fuckin’ good,” he admits sheepishly.

Chuckling, you scoff, “Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, sugar.” He winks and flashes you a lopsided grin. “In fact, I’d say my work here is done.”

“Great! So when are you putting me on the roster?”

His grin instantly vanishes. “Uh, listen. About that....”

He trails off, and your heart sinks a little.

Tommy wouldn’t back out of this now—would he?

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare go back on your word, Miller,” you say, lightly poking him in the chest. “We had a deal. You said if I did well enough, you’d think about it.”

He nods in agreement. “Exactly. Said I’d think about it. And I think that puttin’ you on the roster for patrol ain’t a good idea.”

Your mouth falls open. If he never had any intention of holding up his end of the bargain, then what had been the point of teaching you how to shoot?

You didn’t understand.

“You just said it yourself, I’m a great shot! I’m a good on horseback, too. I’m stealthy. I’m diligent. What more do you fucking need from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Joel would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands if I even thought about puttin’ you on patrol duty. Hell, he’d murder me just knowin’ we’re out here and I’m teachin’ you how to shoot. It’s a damn fuckin’ miracle he still hasn’t caught onto this, y’know.”

Shocked, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “This is about Joel? Are you serious?”

“‘Course it is.” He pauses. “Listen, now I know the three of us had our—differences—when he first told me ‘bout you two. Still takin’ me a bit of gettin’ used to, but I can see he’s real serious about you. I know my brother, and I know he won’t risk losin’ what’s most important to him. Ain’t no way in hell. He doesn’t want you out here and you know that as well as I do.” Tommy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging as he shuffles his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Unless he’s alright with it, I ain’t gonna put you on the roster.”

For a moment, you’re at a complete loss for words.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he makes a suggestion. “You can try talkin’ to him ‘bout it again if it means that much to you. Ask him—”

“Ask?” You want to laugh. You almost do. “I’m an adult, Tommy. I don’t need his permission to do this. Or to do anything for that matter. Joel doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Tommy smiles wryly. “Well then, if that’s the case, why are we sneakin’ around and doin’ this behind his back?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Because the ramifications could be disastrous.

Joel had made his stance on the matter abundantly clear, and yet here you were, deliberately disobeying him.

“Stumped you real good, didn’t I?”

Before you can even start to think about how you can possibly respond to that, you hear the sound of hooves in the dirt behind you, followed by whinny of a horse.

Tommy’s face pales as he glances over your shoulder.

“Shit.”

There’s no need for you to ask. His grimace says it all.

Somehow, you will yourself to turn around just as Joel’s steed comes to a halt beside the mare you and Tommy had ridden out on together. He jumps out of the saddle, grunting at the forceful impact on his knees when his feet hit the ground. His rifle hangs from a worn, brown leather strap slung across his back.

He approaches the two of you looking absolutely livid, and your throat goes dry.

“The hell is goin’ on here?” He breezes right past you, roughly shoving his brother with both hands. “Why the fuck would you bring her out here, Tommy? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Joel, c’mon. Take it easy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to take it easy!”

“Joel!” You reach for his arm. “Wait, it’s not his fault!”

Joel shoves him again, then takes him by the collar of his shirt and pins him against the ponderosa pine tree behind him. “You’ve been bringin’ her outside the gates behind my fuckin’ back for weeks, asshole?”

The panic begins to set in—he’s taking his anger out on the wrong person, and deep down, he knows this too.

“Joel! Stop! Let him go!” Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, you try pulling him off of the younger man. “Stop it! It’s not his fault! I asked Tommy to bring me out here!”

He whirls around, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched.

You’ve seen this side of him a handful of times before.

But his anger has never been directed at you.

“What?”

Immediately, you let go of him and take a step back. “I asked Tommy to bring me out here and teach me how to shoot so that I can start working patrol,” you explain, hoping, praying, he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. “This was all my idea, okay? If you’re going to be mad at someone, then be mad at me. Not at him.”

“So you did this after I fuckin’ told you I didn’t want you out here?” Joel seethes. His neck becomes flushed, his tan skin now a deep shade of red.

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “I had to find out from Ellie? You tried to get her to fuckin’ lie to me? After all the work it took for me and her to—” Stopping mid sentence, he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“Joel. Please.” Behind the anger in his dark brown eyes, you detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

Tommy awkwardly clears his throat. “Well I’m, uh—I’m gonna head back to town,” he says, touching a hand to the back of his neck. “I’ll let the two of you work things out in private.” As he passes Joel, he lightly claps him on the shoulder. “Girl’s a sharp shooter, big brother. I’d reckon she’s almost better than you.”

His effort to lighten the mood fails. Miserably.

Offering you a subtle nod of encouragement, Tommy hops into the saddle of his mare and takes off towards the commune.

Silence falls over the both of you. It feels suffocating.

Unfamiliar.

Finally, you speak. “Joel, please just hear me out—”

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Or were you just not thinkin’ at all?”

“I was thinking I want to pull my weight in Jackson.”

“You already have a fuckin’ job,” Joel reminds you.

“Making sandwiches and serving whiskey at The Tipsy Bison?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am capable of more than that, Joel. So much more. Don’t you believe I’m capable of doing more?”

“I don’t want you out here,” he grits through his teeth. “Capable or not, I don’t want you outside Jackson’s walls. I don’t want you on patrol and that’s fuckin’ final. You understand me?” Now it’s him who falters, and you wonder if you’re imagining things, or if that’s really a tear you see sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the salt and pepper scruff of his beard.

“That’s not your decision to make, Joel. It’s mine.”

“M’responsible for you. It’s my job to look after you—to protect you.”

Something about the way he is looking at you, it feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at that precise moment when you begin to realize that he’s not angry. He’s afraid.

“Joel, I know that all you want to do is protect me,” you sigh, letting your arms fall down to your sides. “I know you do. But you’re doing me no favors by trying to keep me sheltered. By treating me like I’m defenseless. Don’t forget, I’m a survivor too.”

“You already know how fuckin’ dangerous it is out here. Clickers, raiders—”

“I can handle it,” you insist, stubbornly.

“You’d be puttin’ yourself right in harm’s way!”

You shoot back, “You mean, the way you and so many other people put yourselves in harm’s way every single day for the sake of keeping Jackson safe?”

A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. “Christ, why are you bein’ so fuckin’ foolish? You’re just askin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself!” You realize your hands are shaking and curl them into tight fists at your sides in an effort to hide it. “Just accept it, Joel! Accept that I can take care of myself, alright?”

That is all it takes to tip Joel over the edge he’s been teetering on. “Then what do you fuckin’ need me for?” he shouts, his voice thundering over the quiet plains of Wyoming. “If you can take care of yourself, what’s the point in us bein’ together? Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you!”

As soon as the confession comes tumbling out of your mouth, you take a step back, your wide eyes meeting his own. Until now, neither of you have ever called this what it is, been bold enough to say it’s love.

Loving after so much grief, so much loss, is daunting. It’s something you thought you would never be capable of doing again, not in this lifetime. Not in this world. It’s happened, though.

You love Joel Miller.

And he loves you.

He’s never told you he does, but he’s shown you.

From the way remembers how you take your coffee in the mornings, to the way he laces his fingers with your own, holding your hand when he’s buried inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your collarbone every single night.

“You—you what?” Joel’s whisper is hardly audible.

You inch your way closer to him, your voice soft. “I love you,” you declare once more. “I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m not with you because you can take care of me.” Closer. “I’m with you because I love you—because I’m in love with you, Joel.” Closer, until your chest brushes against his, and he can smell the subtle scent of your homemade, rosewater soap. “The only thing I need, and have ever needed from you, is your love in return.”

His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he lifts his hands and gently takes your face, cradling it in between his large palms, gently. His eyes search yours, immediately finding the sincerity behind your words. Leaning down, he brushes the tip of nose against your own as one of his hands travels down, his long fingers curling around the nape of your neck. His thumb lightly strokes the column of your throat.

“I love you,” Joel says hoarsely. Three words he hadn’t said to anyone in over two decades—it feels foreign to him, they ring strange in his own ears. He tries it again, clearer this time, and with a little more confidence. After all, he’s only saying what he has known from the very start. “I love you.” His other hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “M’gonna love you for the rest of my life, baby.”

He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly, at first, but he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the ponderosa, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved.

You whimper into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest and past his shoulders until they’re tangled in his soft, graying curls. He breathes you in, like you are the oxygen he needs to stay alive.

It isn’t until you both hear the sound of rustling behind a nearby shrub that you’re forced to pull apart. “Don’t move,” Joel instructs in a hushed voice. He keeps you pinned against the tree, his hand abandoning your hip. He glances around, slowly reaching behind his back for his rifle. His tense shoulders relax when the both of you see a pair of rabbits dart out from one dried bush and straight into another. Exhaling an amused huff, Joel shifts his attention back to you and rests his forehead against yours.

Smiling, you reach up and softly graze his beard with your fingertips. “Guess it’s about time we called this what it is, huh?”

“Guess you’re right, darlin’.” He lifts his chin, brushing a kiss onto your forehead. “M’sorry for raisin’ my voice to you. For talkin’ to you the way I did. S’just, the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you out here scares shit out of me.” Taking a step back, he pulls the strap of his rifle from around his shoulder. He chews the inside of his cheek and silently stares at the gun in his hands. After a minute, he meets your curious gaze. “Do you really wanna do this, sweet girl?”

You nod. “Yeah. I really do.”

Joel sighs. “Can I put a condition it?”

“Depends on what that condition is.”

“I’m your patrol partner. Every shift. Every rotation.”

You roll your eyes. “Joel.”

“At least for the first few weeks,” he bargains. “Last thing I need is for you to be paired up with some fuckin’ idiot who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

Knowing that would be the only way he’d have some peace of mind, you decide to agree. “Fine. We’re patrol partners.”

“Alright then.” Joel nods and hands you the rifle. He flashes you a small grin. “Show me what you got, baby.”

divider credit to @/saradika 💛

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

#joel miller x reader #fic: call it what it is #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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syefiles · 5 months

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𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: bf nagi w a big d ! 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: height difference, cumming inside (no condom), dom and sub nagi, blowjob, reader has a pussy, usage of spit as lube. let me know if there's anything i missed ! 𝐚/𝐧: hiyaa ! my requests are open for thirsts, fic ideas etc. ‹𝟹 [] also im pretty sure there's someone else that wrote this already but i wanted to share my take on my fav boy on the entire show ^_^

nagi loves using his height against you. whether it be using it to tease you or using it to overpower you when he's pounding into you mercilessly with his cock.

safe to say, he loves both. all of that height matched his cock. his cock is thick but doesn't lack in length. your mouth never fails to water whenever you suck him off, his deep moans and praises always have you trembling for more. he lets out thick and hot ropes of cum on your pretty face, and he loves seeing you lick it all off of yourself afterward. ''look so pretty 'f me, angel.''

the most rewarding is him letting you on top. even though nagi loves being on top, always manhandling you and throwing you into the positions he wants, he doesn't mind laying down and making you do all of the work for a change.

he loves seeing your tits bounce, and how crazy you go when you first sink down on his big cock after a long time. ''take it- take it like a good girl.'' your eyes roll back and your hands shake from the stretch. you'll never get used to his dick bullying into your wet pussy, always making you feel heavenly whenever he thrusts inside whenever you feel weak.

though he is a lazy person, his stamina never falters when it comes to him fucking you. his hips snap back and forth, fully forcing in his thick cock inside of you, while his big hands worked magic on your tits.

''fuck, always so tight and wet for me.'' he didn't need spit as lube when he enters, but right when after you make him cum by giving him head, he slides in so easily inside, knowing that's where it's rightful place is.

''yeah? you love my cock huh? my naughty girl.'' he praises, his cock hitting your spot repeatedly, while his free hand rubbed circles on your clit. your moans were loud, it was a string of words that didn't even make sense anymore.

''n-nagi fuck—i'm cumming-'' you blurt out, as your mind spins while you cum on his cock, he thrusts his cock fully inside, letting his cum spurt freely inside of you.

nagi didn't like clean sex. he wanted his cum all over your face, your boobs, hickeys all over each other, and bite marks here and there. but, he knew it would be a pain in the ass cleaning up after.

©adourly 5/11/2024 - do not copy, translate, modify my works.

#‎ ‎ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა‎ ₊ ‎ ˚ ‎ ⊹ ‎ ‎ 𝐀𝐋𝐘'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒. ‎ ‎ ౨ৎ #blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk imagines #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi smut #nagi seishiro smut #seishiro nagi smut #blue lock headcanons #im bored in my class pls #bllk headcanons #nagi x reader #nagi blue lock #blue lock nagi #nagi x y/n

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ozzgin · 10 months

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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (III)

A whole lot of confusion as to whether Reader and her yakuza friend are actually dating. After much back and forth and a coworker being threatened, the awaited confession might finally take place.

Bonus part: Kazuya tells Reader about his and Daitou's past and how they ended up working for the yakuza.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence

Tags: @vinivave @ansy-tea @evvie8 @angelicbunnee @jingerbreadoutofstock @azukoya @randomlyblues @alien-consummation @neverlandlostchild @mimiemie @toji-whore @cloudie-skay @lilkittenmitten

[Part 2] | [Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

The items are scanned and Kazuya finishes paying. He looks back, searching for Daitou, and finds him wandering among the narrow aisles of magazines and manga. They'd stopped by the konbini at the train station after their job.

"Here's your bentou." The blonde man extends a small box, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Say, do you have an upset stomach or something? You're uglier than usual."

Daitou thanks him with a nod, but doesn't take the neatly packaged food. He's idly playing with the cover of a romance volume, bending and straightening its corner.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just, ya know, feels a bit like (Y/N)'s been avoiding me. She hurries straight home after work and barely waves hi. I thought we'd do more things together now that we're dating."

Kazuya nearly spits out the soda he opened while listening to Daitou's troubles. He snorts and quickly wipes his mouth.

"Wait, are you serious? You actually asked her out? And she said yes??"

Daitou thinks back to the time he gifted you your stalker's finger and teeth, the way you defended him, and the way you quietly walked home and almost held hands. That pretty much made it official, didn't it? So he confidently nods to his utterly baffled partner in crime.

"You little rascal, you! Who would've thought you had it in you?!" He cheerfully slaps Daitou's back and wraps his arm around his neck. The dark haired man blushes and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "You should've told me earlier!"

True. Between the two of them, Kazuya has always been extremely charismatic and popular with women. His perfectly combed blonde hair, his sparkling designer suits, his luxuriously elegant cologne. The handsome features and assertive smile. More than once he'd been approached by modeling agencies, and he likes to joke his lust for violence stopped him from living the glamorous life. In comparison, Daitou has the opposite effect on people. The room will empty if he steps inside. He's unnervingly tall, with bulging muscles, has multiple scars crossing his face, and his prosthetic eye always ends up twisted in the strangest position, causing him to look like he's only missing the straight jacket. Everyone is shocked upon hearing about their friendship.

So it makes sense that Kazuya would have the required experience to offer him decent advice when it comes to (Y/N).

"Listen here, if there's one thing you should know, it's that women like a guy that fights for them. You gotta show them you care. What can you offer that other guys can't?"

The tall man listens intently, with a concentrated frown as if taking mental notes. He's not entirely sure who he should fight in this ordeal, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kazuya, so he nods vehemently to his words.

"That's the short preview. If you have any more questions, just come over later. I'm piss tired, so I'll go home and have the nap of a lifetime." He yawns deeply to showcase his exhaustion and slowly walks away, throwing his hand in a lazy wave.

The yakuza remains standing, still ruminating over the words of wisdom generously offered by the expert himself. Is he to randomly beat up people on the street as you watch? Won't Boss be angry if he attacks civilians? He gasps in realization. Perhaps this is what Kazuya meant. What kind of man is he if he can't even go against his Boss? So what if Boss won't like it? He has to prove himself to you.

With newfound determination, he clenches his fists and gazes out of the window.

That's when he notices you. You seem to be returning from work. Even more - and this causes his jaw to tighten in anger - some unknown man is walking next to you, cheerfully chitchatting and gesturing.

That settles it.

"You really didn't have to walk me home." You laugh clumsily to the man at your side.

A new coworker recently joined your company, and you've been asked to show him the ropes. You gradually discovered you had quite a lot in common, throughout your ample opportunities to gossip and talk leisurely. Your schedule isn't as packed nowadays, given you'll show up earlier and leave later.

Normally you'd prefer to be in your warm bed as soon as possible, but you've been feeling rather tense since the incident with Daitou. During his heated exchange with Kazuya, you've heard mentions of 'being liked by women' and 'having a crush on someone'. You thought it involved you and you nervously awaited further explanations from Daitou himself, but on the way back he was completely silent. You didn't have the courage to bring it up, so you assumed there must've been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way.

Which, after all, would make plenty of sense. What business would a yakuza have with you? He's already shown much more courtesy than it was required of him. Hoping he'd also confess his feelings on top of everything was downright ridiculous and you're embarrassed to admit you'd harbored such cheesy fantasies to begin with.

"Don't sweat it. You might not know", the coworker warns with lowered voice, "but this area is reeking of gangsters. I'm surprised you've been fine so far, but you should be more careful."

"O-oh...I see..." You glance at him and hold back a smirk. You doubt he could protect you from Daitou or Kazuya, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless.

There's an uncomfortable pause as you stand in your doorframe, having reached the intended destination. The man hasn't left yet, waiting expectantly. He lowers his head towards yours and you swiftly slam the door, muttering something about an emergency.

"Cute." He thinks to himself as he chuckles and steps away.

There's always a next time.

The coworker heads towards the train station in a relaxed strut. At the first intersection, however, he feels his clothes being pulled and he finds himself abruptly shoved in an empty room by an unknown assailant.

Daitou easily lifts him up by his collar and nonchalantly throws him in a chair. It seems to be a small storage unit, possibly belonging to one of the shops.

"What's your business with (Y/N)?" He barks.

"Huh? I should be the one asking-" The man pauses for a second, going over his conversations with you. "Could it be that you're the stalker she mentioned?"

Naturally, you had left out the part where your stalker was carefully packaged and dumped in a place unknown. To your coworker, he was very much still alive and a potential threat.

The yakuza is taken aback.

"I'm her boyfriend!" He retorts angrily.

"Bullshit. She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Another slap to the face. Daitou's cheeks are becoming increasingly red and he runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm down. Why, this son of a...

He marches to one of the metal shelves behind, grabbing his tool belt. Simultaneously, the door opens and Kazuya sheepishly peeks his head in. His blonde locks are ruffled and one can tell he's freshly woken up.

"Yo, I just realized I might've been too metaphorical with you back at the store so I've been texting you, but you didn't-...Wait, why is there a guy handcuffed to the chair?"

He crosses his arms, with a habitual scolding glare towards his friend.

"I just caught this cockroach flirting with (Y/N)! Went all the way to her place!" Daitou whines, his face full of indignation.

"Of course you know where she lives, you fucking stalker." The coworker exclaims bitterly.

"Watch your mouth buddy, he ain't no stalker!" Kazuya straightens his back and approaches the mysterious man. "If he's right, and you've been messing with his woman...We ain't letting that go. Today you learn why no one fucks with the yakuza."

The two men exchange a knowing look.

You drop yourself on the sofa and groan. Tomorrow will certainly be strange. Was the coworker trying to kiss you just now? You'll have to think of a polite way to turn him down next shift. Is it because you're not interested, or because you're still hoping to have a chance with Daitou? You slap your cheeks vigorously, trying to pull yourself out of such thoughts.

You suddenly notice the foreign wallet sticking out of your bag. Your coworker had dropped it earlier today while running for the train, and you offered to throw it in your bag to save time. Except you forgot to return it.

You check your phone. It hasn't been that long, so maybe you can still reach him if you hurry. Without much contemplation, you pluck the wallet and sprint out.

As you dash past the buildings, you have the idea of calling the man and asking him to wait instead. Why run like a madman? You stop and rest a hand against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Ugh, you've been so scattered today. This should've been the obvious choice, instead you sprang out. Silly.

From around the corner you can make out the familiar wails you've learned to ignore. Whoever the yakuza tortures is not your problem. You are about to scurry away, yet something about these whimpers feels odd. No...Could it be?

You tiptoe down the vacant alleyway and try to catch a glimpse inside through the small, dirty window. As a matter of fact, it is your beloved coworker. Kazuya is holding his arm against a table, with the fingers forcefully fanned out, and Daitou has a blade secured over the pinky finger.

You elbow yourself against the door in a theatrical entry.

"What the hell are you guys doing?! That's my coworker!" You yell.

Daitou freezes, and Kazuya instantly releases his grasp. They turn to you, shocked.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), this is to be settled among men. This bastard insulted your boyfriend, we can't let it slide!" Kazuya regains his composure and defends his cause fervently, pointing to the man that's now sobbing and crying uncontrollably.

"Boyfriend?" You question, mouth agape.

The blonde man stares at you.

"You're...You're dating, aren't you?"

"Since when?" You demand, confused and upset.

Both you and Kazuya turn to Daitou for answers.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you actually ask her out, Daitou? Did you say it out loud?" Kazuya's voice breaks in exasperation.

"W-well, I didn't...I didn't say it, but I thought..." the man's eyes dart between you and his friend. He gulps. "W-we almost held hands, didn't we?"

Overwhelmed with anger, the blonde stomps over to the shelves and kicks one to make his point, loudly bemoaning his friend's lack of social awareness. He can't believe he went along with his nonsense. Him, of all people! He should've anticipated it.

As the coworker weeps and Kazuya continues his foul monologue, you can't help the blush that's now burning across your face. You fidget anxiously next to the tattooed man.

"Y-you thought we were dating?"

"Sorry for not making it clear." Daitou is once again twiddling with his prosthetic eye, dejected. "Is it too late to ask you out now? Because I do like you a lot..."

"Since you put it so nicely...I can't really say no~" Your ears are bright red and you're twirling your hair. Is it truly happening? Are you dreaming? Everything feels snug and fuzzy and the butterflies are swarming your stomach.

You don't have time to enjoy your romantic encounter, as Kazuya is now behind you, clearing his throat.

"Alright, you lovebirds, what about this one here, then?"

You suddenly remember your coworker and an icy cold flashes through your body.

"Oh God, how will I explain this at work? I'll get fired!" You bite your nails in terror. You can already visualize the slip of unemployment. The long lines at the Job Center, you and the homeless. Panic begins to build up.

Until Daitou's large hands rest on your shoulders. He's unexpectedly warm.

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). I'll have a word with Boss, and we can get you a job here. This way we can spend more time together", he suggests with childish enthusiasm.

You glance up at him, moved by his soothing words.

"I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"Hey, it's my fault you ended up in this situation. You can leave everything to me." He reassures you proudly.

"That didn't answer my damn question." Kazuya points out, annoyed.

"Can't we just kill him or something? He did call me a stalker, and I'm still upset about that..."

Daitou stretches and sighs in boredom, pondering the options. Once he's decided on the outcome, he shoos you away lovingly. You don't need to see this part.

Bonus: Daitou's backstory

"Oh, right, how did it go with your tickets?"

Kazuya is walking beside you, hands in pockets. Every now and then he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap away the piling ash.

"Well, I still have both kidneys, but I won't be swimming in cash for the next months at least." You respond, slouching your shoulders dramatically for the effect.

"Flying abroad is always expensive. Unless, I don't know, you book years in advance."

"Yeah. I should've looked earlier, but I wasn't sure about my work schedule. At least I get to see my family and friends for Christmas."

After a few more steps in silence, you glance up at the blonde man. He notices your curious stare and raises his eyebrows, as if encouraging you to speak up.

"What about you? Will you be going home for the holidays?"

He grins at your question and proudly places a hand on his chest.

"This is my home, actually! I was born and raised in this very neighborhood."

"Really? Was it not a yakuza quarter before?" Your eyes widen at his statement.

"It was." Kazuya blows some of his smoke in your direction and you cough lightly. "You know the soapland further down the street?"

You nod.

"Mom used to work there. One of the clients got her pregnant and she found out too late. She had a room upstairs, and I just kind of tagged along. The other girls looked after me, too."

You recall one instance when Kazuya received a phone call about some drunkard causing a ruckus at the brothel, and he shot up without a word, rushed out and returned with bloodied knuckles. At the time, you'd assumed he's a client himself and maybe got attached to one of the girls. Now it makes sense. You're a little embarrassed of your obvious prejudice. If he grew up there, it must be his way of showing gratitude to the workers who loved him despite the circumstances.

"Oh, what about Daitou, then? Is he from the area, too?"

The man frowns and purses his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, his features soften up again and he sighs.

"I suppose you're his girlfriend, after all. It's also not a secret per se..."

Your ears perk up at the strange reaction to your inquiry.

"I mean, it's just a bit of a grim topic. No one knows for sure. Boss found him on the streets years ago, when he was a wee kid."

He presses his thumb and index finger together, emphasizing the small size to you.

"I don't know all the details, just what the Seniors told me - I was a kid myself back then - but it was pretty bad. Had no shoes on, scratches and cuts all over. His left eye was swollen and terribly infected, that's how he lost it, actually. Boss felt sorry for him, so he took him in.

They did try to ask him for parents or relatives, but apparently he wouldn't speak at all. Took him like a year to finally open his mouth. Even now, if you ask him anything about his past, he just pretends he didn't hear you. So maybe don't bring it up to him."

You shake your head along, urging him to continue with more details. Kazuya seems to warm up to the memories and slows down, indulging in the recollection.

"Anyways, one day Boss' car is followed and he gets shot in the shoulder. Some snot-nosed trainees from the rival gang. They hadn't even gotten their pins yet, wanted to impress their older brothers I guess.

Daitou heard about it and went after them. One of our Seniors - he's a tough guy alright, been with the Family for decades - he told me he was sweating like mad when they found him. Daitou was just a teen at the time, but he butchered those guys up so bad they couldn't tell them apart anymore. Even bit a few bullets, and still kept going, like a crazed animal. The adults were freaking out. They didn't expect him to be this strong.

I suspect they were pretty afraid of him, you know? They were probably thinking, "if one day he has it out for us, we're done for!", so they told Boss they should kick him out. But at this point Daitou was like his own son, so he laughed and said, "What's the matter with ya, he does your dirty work and you wanna get rid of him?! If the boy wants to fight, let him!", and he arranged for Daitou to join the Family officially. I was recruited around the same time.

We didn't get along at first, I mean, they warned me to stay away because he's crazy and also Boss' favorite. He didn't hang out with anyone. He had his own jobs, the mercenary stuff no one else wanted to deal with.

You might not believe it, but back then I was an angry, stubborn asshole. It didn't sit well with me that this guy was out there, doing his own thing. I had a reputation myself, before I dropped out of high school I was pretty much undefeated. I thought I'd see it with my own eyes, this all-powerful jackass even the Seniors avoided."

You smile faintly, trying to imagine a young Kazuya without the expensive, flashy suit and polished appearance.

"So one evening I just walked up to him and told him to join me outside. Didn't even give him a speech, just rammed my fist into his face. This was my signature move, you know, I can't even count how many guys I knocked out with this punch. Straight into the jaw, sends your brain spinning. Whew, and this guy? He didn't even flinch! Just stood there and looked at me like I was dumb. I was pissed off at this point, you can imagine, it felt like he was mocking me. So I yelled we ain't done until one of us gives up.

He understood what I wanted and finally fought me earnestly. Hell, he even knocked some of my teeth out. This one here's an implant. Mad expensive. Anyhow, as much as it hurt my pride, I'd lost fair and square. So I got up, wiped the blood, and asked him to come grab a drink with me. My treat.

You should've seen his face, (Y/N). I think it was the first time I've witnessed him smile. 'Really? Can I? Are you sure?' He was like a stray dog after you've thrown him some leftovers. Kept that dumb grin the whole night. You could've given him a clown hat and people would've paid to see the circus.

That's when I realized this poor bastard probably just wanted a friend. The next day I went to pick him up again and he was beaming like a princess. Heh. Afterwards he started following me around and eventually Boss called me in. I thought I got into trouble or something, even brought a bunch of gauze pads in case I needed to slice off my finger. Turns out he'd heard of us becoming pals, and he asked me to maybe attend Daitou every now and then because he always leaves a mess and everyone's too scared to deal with him. We've been teamed together ever since."

You realize you've been standing in the same spot ever since Kazuya begun talking, completely entranced by his story. He chuckles upon seeing your expression and ruffles your hair.

"Man, I sure rambled a lot. Sorry about that. In any case, that was my piece about Daitou. I'm sure you already know this, but he's not a bad guy. Just has a twisted sense of loyalty. Once he finds someone to serve, he doesn't see anything else.

Hell, I'm his closest friend and I'm convinced he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it was for Boss."

Upon further consideration, he smiles and winks at you.

"Or for you. Especially you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #female reader #yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #original work #oc x reader #male yandere x reader #x reader #yandere scenarios

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goldsbitch · 3 months

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remember that

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. But everyone need assurance that they are still loved sometimes. The first time Lando almost slept on a couch blurb

warning: couple fight, angst

It was bad. This time, it was really fucking bad.

After weeks of snarky comments being swallowed in, the "it's fine" line being burned into Lando's ears almost on a daily basis and growing minutes Y/N had to wait before Lando decided to respond to her texts, shit finally hit the fan.

They hadn't seen each other for two weeks now. Inevitable fight broke out right as he crossed the threshold. Postponed dates and forgotten dinners lined up. They couldn't help themselves and put it all on the table. First it was the fact she didn't smile upon seeing him, then it was a reminder that he promised to bring something from Italy and forgot. It went on and on and on. She sat at the dinning table, while he leaned over at the kitchen counter.

"Lando, sometimes it feels like I'm in a relationship with your assistant and not you! For heaven sake, this week I had to call him, once again, when I could not reach you. Do you know how embarrassing it is?" she half-screamed into her hands.

Lando took a breath so deep an average yoga teacher would be jealous. "How am I suppose to be expected to pick up on a race day. You know that I get super busy and distracted."

"Funny how you never were when we started dating," she murmured bitterly.

He had to turn away, couldn't watch his love giving up on him just because they were not in the honeymoon stage anymore. "Yes, but now I'm winning races! Closer to my dream that I've ever been. It's different now."

"I'm glad I met you back then, because obviously you'd not date me if we met now," she couldn't stop those words that rotted in her coming out.

A beat. Maybe it was time to actually break the rule for once and go to sleep angry, because it was getting out of hand. "You know what, that's probably true and it breaks my heart that once I start doing well, you're suddenly not the supporting girlfriend anymore."

A crushing blow. "Tell me how am I suppose to support you if you don't even answer my phone! We used to talk for hours!

"Maybe understand that I can't!"

"I do! But you can't assume that I'll let you push me away completely!"

Lando thew his hands up in desperation. How could she not see it? "I'm coming here to you whenever I have a slightest chance! And I come what? You constantly dragging me through the mud."

"Oh interesting you mention that. How sad that your assistant had to remind you of my sensitive skin before you having him book me an "apology mud massage" when you cancelled on me few weeks ago," se shot, knowing it would hit the target.

"How do you even know that!" he said, unable to comprehend that he did not even control his paid assistant, not mention his own life anyway.

"Well, I talk a lot to you assistant! And he slips up!" It was a weird friendship between people who both wished they could get a little more info out of Lando.

"That's it. I can't deal with this now," he said, with the intention to sleep on the couch for the first time in their relationship. He didn't even know why he chose that action, walking towards their bedroom and dramatically bringing a pillow and a blanket over to the sofa, but if this is what couples did when the fought, there must have been a reason for it.

It absolutely infuriated her. Sparked up something she hoped she'd never feel. "Oh, sleep tight." she spitted with bitter undertone.

"I will!"

They walked around each other in silence, him getting ready to sleep on the couch and her cutting her skincare short this time and spending more time debating whether to close the bedroom door as they usually would or leave it open. Just in case.

He could hear her shifting back and forth. It angered him a little bit, since he was the one playing a cruel joke on his already tired muscles.

Thousand things she wanted to say and only one came to her mind in a form of an actual sentence. There goes nothing. "Do you still feel good about this?"

"What?" he whispered, not expecting her to speak to him again before the next day.

"Nevermind, forget I asked."

"About what!" He hated when she did this. If you didn't catch up at the first moment, she did not give you a second chance.

"Do you still feel good about us, being together?" She cursed herself for asking this. Dangerous questions brought up explosive answers. She wished for a reassurance and a rejection. She snuggled deeper into her blanket and turned around to face the door. As if wishing for him to stand there and coming back to her.

Lando hated her question. In fact, it made him furious again. But it was a peace offering, he had already learned that before. "Even here, lying on the bloody couch, because we're fighting...It's the place I wanna be at."

Anxiety kicked in Y/N. "What, you mean like away from me?"

He laughed lightly. She was always thinking the worst. "No, silly. The exact opposite...We could both be at thousand different places at the moment. But we're not. And for me at least, it's because like---I want to be with you. I hate that we'd drifted apart lately. I'd love to be in bed with you, laughing without a care in the world, like we usually do. But, we can't do that now. And yet, I'd rather be left on the couch if I know you're next door than all alone in my bed." His words hit like small drops of rain after a long draught.

She whispered, choosing her words carefully. "You're my twin flame. You make my soul light up in fire, make me feel like I'm the sun. Do you know what my biggest fear is?"

Lando also tuned into sweeter tone, one that was more familiar from days filled with sunshine. "What, my love?"

"That we're gonna burn out. You and me, ending up like an epic love story. The good ones work because they end in tragedy."

"You're always so poetic," he smiled, proud to think he was her love story.

"There is no other way to describe how you'd changed my life. Flipped it upside down the moment you walked into the same room."

Lando chucked. "Yeah, remember that?"

"How could I not."

"You were not having a good day."

Finally, she spoke loudly again. "So, what? Everything was going to shit and the event we were doing had to be perfect before the 'important people' arrived".

"Such an ego boost to know I was your priority before you even met me," he uttered, happy to push her buttons.

"Oh, and you were so cocky! Just laughing around, like we were some sort of comedy sketch."

"Well, I'm sorry, have you heard yourself when you're upset? The way how your voice goes up seven octaves higher?" he laughed, his breath feeling lighter now.

"Coming from you, that's rich! You were giggling in a tone so high the elderly couldn't hear you!"

"I'm so happy I managed to bag the grumpiest person in the building. And bare in mind there must have been around 500 people there."

"980 if you could in staff as well."

He let out a heavy sigh. "You with your pristine memory."

She paused before responding. "Yes. Wish I didn't have that sometimes."

"Wish I had at least a pinch of that."

Silence fell in both rooms. Heavy breath and wondering eyes. The lack of their touch suddenly being more obvious than before. Playing a contest who will reach out first.

"Lando?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can you back here, please?" she said, somewhat nervously. Lando took a pause. There was nothing he wished for more. It hurt to fight. But he figured a relationship needed that sometimes. As the poets say, you loose a woman when you forget to cherish her. He liked to think this went both ways. And they both started slacking a bit. He could only affect his own behavior, with the hope that she'd also come to the same understanding.

"I'd like nothing more in the world, my love."

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