#many triggering topics/situations | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animeyanderelover · 6 months ago

Note

•Prompt #-29 obito uchiha •I always imagine all the uchihas (separately) as asylum patients since they are very "intense" and reader as their psychiatrist.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, threats, intimidation, manipulation, gaslighting, guilt-tripping, an asylum, they are crazier than normally, death, violence

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @cachamata

Uchiha's in a mental asylum

Otsutsuki Indra

💜Indra as a patient would be very difficult and you would probably only be one of many psychiatrists that have attempted their luck with him only to fail. It's no secret that he looks down on most people in the station from the patients to the staff. Arrogant yet angry, after having read through his files you figure out that he seems to have a severe inferiority complex after his younger brother was chosen as a successor to a quite successful business as the father did not see a prospering future with Indra as the new CEO. Only very few people know about this though as it is a delicate topic to be touched. One wrong word could after all lead to Indra being triggered and attacking someone as such incidents have happened in the past before with severe injuries for people around him. The first few sessions you don't get remotely close as Indra isn't even looking at you, giving you a cold shoulder as he just stares at the paintings on the wall with a bored look, his fingers drumming against the armrest of the sofa as you try to spark a conversation or at the very least gain his attention. You'd have more success with a wall though then with Indra.

💜Apparently ou endure much more than the psychiatrists before you as one day suddenly his black eyes are on you, observing you coldly as he remarks with a tinge of annoyance that you are far peskier than those before you. Slowly he goes from ignoring you to putting you down, trying to crack your own self-esteem. He doesn't like that you think that you can just walk in every day and expect to fix him. Who do you think you are after all? He should be the one in control. It should always be him. He constantly tries to undermine your achievements and your knowledge, observes sharply for any flaws like a hawk to use those to crack your composed facade. That's how he has gotten those before you to quit but you are infuriatingly resilient. Indra hates that. He hates that you stand up against him even though you should avert your eyes as soon as you see him. Why aren't you backing down? The fissures appear within his own facade and you carefully try to navigate through them to reach him. You venture dangerously close to emotions that haven't been touched upon in a long time as Indra gets more and more fixated on you, unwilling to pull back and lose this mindgame.

💜He pays so much attention. He pays too much attention. That is his mistake and his downfall. His emotions are deeply troubling, the intensity of them only adding to the decay of his walls. He loses that intimidating coldness around him as he is far more agitated. He starts collecting as much information as he can from other patients or from the staff, feeling humiliated as he acts like a beggar on his knees for any scraps of information. You only want to help but that is not how Indra sees this situation. No, instead he views it as a personal defeat, as a humiliation that adds another wound to his soul. Unable to allow history to repeat itself and see himself failing to claim something that should have been his once more, he almost gets desperate. During the next session you have with him, his full attention is on you, something that has never happened to this extent before. The look of anger and resentment is on his face the entire time, something you try to talk about with him. He doesn't instantly reply though as he instead slowly rises and walks over to you until he is towering over your seated form. Black eyes threatening to devour you as he bends down and whispers lowly that he will have you soon.

Uchiha Madara

🌑Uchiha Madara has landed in a mental hospital after witnessing the murder of his younger brother and only family he had left. Ignoring all offers of therapy, his mind had only been set on revenge. Revenge he did get but there wasn't only the blood of one person on his hands. There was a time where he used to get triggered by anything that even remotely reminded him of the killer of his younger brother which led him to attack innocent people hence why he was sent to a mental hospital. He's gotten over the worst phase though not due to the sloppy attempts of the staff or his psychiatrists. You are told that Madara is prideful, easily bored with a tendency to do whatever he wants because he knows that most people stuck here are far too scared to stop him by themselves. Indeed, he seems to have very little respect when you introduce yourself to him during your first session. He's just sprawled on the couch, arching his back like a lazy cat. Only occasionally does he seem to think that you are worthy to be graced with a bored gaze of his before he stares at the ceiling again. You prove to have guts though when you tell him to sit his ass down when he attempts to leave.

🌑Quickly you figure out that he seems to enjoy a little bit of banter and courage, all which you seem to possess. He's been bored to tears in this place as he admits to you. Everyone seems to be on eggshells in the hospital, no one can take a joke and everyone is always tired and so easily upset. There is just no fun in this place to be found. You're the first person in a long time who is that courageous enough to stand up to him yet it could only be a fleeting spark. So to not get his hopes needlessly up only to be left disappointed, Madara decides to test you out. He makes sure to be extra cocky, smug and intimidating during the following sessions to see if this place will infect you with the same anxiety as it does everyone else. You pass that test with flying colours though, keep that spunky spark within you alive and well which has his heart fluttering. Suddenly he starts looking forward to his sessions with you as around you the air is fresh, not stagnant as it is around everyone else. More than once he attempts to see if he can make you lose your composure but you hold on to your self-control very well and he respects that, especially since he has seen lots of people crumble in this place.

🌑Perhaps it is only logical that Madara would find himself so fixated on you in a place that normally sucks the soul out of everyone who steps remotely close to the building. You actually look and act like you are still alive and stable, have kept your humor and your energy with you. Madara almost feels the urge to protect that fire within you to keep it from being extinguished. You sense it more and more how he attempts to flirt with you though you don't indulge him to not give him any hope or to encourage any illusion. However, he starts feeling quite possessive of your time as he requests your service more than once only to waste sessions other patients might need. You know why he is doing this after all. When he finds out that you have started tending to another patient, you sense the subtle shift within his expression. His eyes narrow as he lets out an intrigued hum. For safety reasons you do ot tell him any names but it was foolish of you to think that Madara wouldn't find out otherwise. Your next session with him is cancelled as you are informed the next day that he was put into a solitary cell after he murdered another patient yesterday who just happened to be yours.

Uchiha Obito

🔥Obito is someone everyone approaches with caution, someone who is often kept isolated from even other patients as there have been more than enough incidents that led to serious injuries and an outburst of panic and fear within the station. Obito had to witness how his own girlfriend was brutally murdered in front of his own eyes, unable to save her. When the police arrived in the scene the entire place had been coated in human stain and he had attacked everyone who had gotten close to the dead body of his lover. He has never gotten over her death, hears in fact still her voice in his head. Whether he is awake or asleep, his mind is unable to let the memory of her go. His girlfriend is his life and he has nearly strangled one of his psychiatrists when they dared to suggest that he would be able to heal as soon as he would accept that she was gone and let go. What did they know about him after all? No one would ever be able to understand him. The only person who did was his dead lover and since then Obito has developed a very cynical view on the world, has even verbally degraded patients who had made progress in their recovery. That's when you enter the scene.

🔥For your own protection Obito is kept separated from you as you talk to him from behind a translucent wall so that the both of you can at the very least sill see each other with your eyes. He doesn't even bother looking at you, one cynical glare full of bitterness is the only thing you receive before he stares at the floor, tuning out of reality as he focuses on the voice of his girlfriend within his mind. Long hours you spend sitting there with him, asking him questions only to be left ignored. That process is repeated for days on end. Until one day he randomly interrupts you as he just tells you that he has no interest of getting better and that there would be nothing worthy out there for him anyways. It's the first time that he has actually spoken to you and you view it as a win for now. It's the first step that slowly betters the relationship you have with him. Most of the time he just attempts to push his negative mindset on you as he finds your optimism disgusting and useless but you don't give in. You are a constant presence within his life and after eternities of isolation actual human contact seems to have an unexpected effect on his mind. He starts hearing your voice in his head too.

🔥Sweet words that his girlfriend used to speak to him are suddenly spoken with your voice in his mind, quickly deteriorating a mind that is already broken. As Obito is loyal to death though he finds himself forced to face the reality that his girlfriend is dead as he falls dangerously in love with you. She gives him her blessing though before she leaves him for good, wishes him his happiness with you and he sheds tears when she goes until he has a headache from crying. The moment she disappears, all his infatuation and desperation is fired at you. You figure that out the next session. The moment he sees you, he slams himself against the protective glass separating the two of you all whilst you stumble back in shock. His nails claw against the thick glass until they are bloody, black eyes staring at you with sickening infatuation as he tells you that he has finally let his girlfriend go as if he expects something for that in return. In his mind he does though, he gave her up so that he could love the you in the world of the living. A heavy sacrifice he committed out of love and devotion and in his mind is deserving of your own affection and love.

Uchiha Shisui

🍂Shisui has always been someone who chose to not share his thoughts and worries with anyone. After all he grew up in an environment surrounded by people who hailed him as a genius and a prodigy. Vulnerability would have equalled weakness and failure, both attributes he wasn't allowed to have. So instead Shisui has always buried everything deep within him. For years pain, anger and feelings that he has never dealt with piled up until it all resulted in one massive meltdown that got him in the mental hospital that he is in still to this day. He hasn't heard anything from his family ever since he was brought here as only his best friend still keeps in touch with him. Shisui doesn't know if they are too ashamed to be associated with him anymore or if they are too scared after witnessing his mental breakdown. He suspects that perhaps it is a mixture of both of those theories. He can still joke with other patients, he stands up if someone is unfairly treated but it is undeniable that he is still quite lonely as all relationships he has built are ultimately superficial and shallow. Perhaps this is just the price that he has to pay after he failed the expectations that were on his shoulders.

🍂In comparison to other patients that you have had in the past, Shisui is one of the easier ones. He responds to all of your questions politely, he tells you openly when he doesn't want to talk about something and he seems actually interested in keeping a conversation with you. Even you he manages to fool. In reality Shisui has no real interest in therapy and the different methods that people like you try out to get a patient to open up. However, he knows just how taxing and ungrateful the job of everyone involved in this facility can be and the very least that he can do is to actually act decently around you and so he does exactly that. As much as you attempt to not let it show, he senses that the sessions that you have with him are almost a break for you as you know that he won't scream, threaten you with death or insult you. That's why he shoulders yet another responsibility as he decides to make your work just that little bit easier but he doesn't let you nor anybody else notice that. Secretly the roles are almost reversed in that sense as he eases your nerves whenever you have a session with him. With that sense of responsibility comes a sense of attachment though.

🍂Almost immediately does Shisui sense that attachment grow, spiraling out of control in a pace that almost frightens him. He doesn't know what it is that has made those emotions of his react so intensely but he knows that the damage has been done and that there is nothing that he cando now. What he does know is that he needs to keep you engaged now that it has gotten so far. Slowly he pretends to open up, admits thoughts and feelings to you that he has never spoken about before to create the illusion that you are getting somewhere with him. To Shisui it is obvious that as long as he is still stuck within those walls, his chances with you are slim and little. He needs to play the long game if he wants to have a realistic chance with you and he is committed to play it. His manipulation is subtle but steady, enough to invade one's mind gradually without them even noticing. When there is someone within the facility that he feels the need to get rid of he never does it himself. No, instead he manipulates someone else into doing it without taking the blame. After all he is always watching, knows all about every relationship and weak point about the staff and the patients.

Uchiha Itachi

🍡Itachi is a silent shadow within the facility. He never stands out, he has never once made a ruckus or caused trouble for other patients or the guards. However, it seems like he is doomed to walk across the floors like a ghost haunting the place. He has no friends, has made no attempts at all to socialise and that has essentially led to no one knowing really anything about him. He feels like a stranger even though he has been in this institution for quite a while now already. Only the files that you receive contain information about him and his past but beyond that no one really knows what he is like. Apparently pressure and expectations from his family have accumulated into one massive mental breakdown for Itachi after years of stuffing everything away deep within his heart. The guards reveal to you that they have only really seen him talking and expressing emotions when his younger brother visits him. The relationship between his father and him is completely estranged and even his mother struggles to reach him though around her he is not as motionless and cold as when he is faced with his father. They tell you that so far he has never opened up nor spoken with any psychiatrist that he has had.

🍡You can quickly attest to the truth of that statement. Itachi actually doesn't ignore you. He looks at you and listens to you when you ask question but he answers none of them, your voice the only sound that cuts the silence between the two of you. Initially you remain optimistic but as session after session passes you slowly start to get frustrated with the lack of results, something that the other staff notices as well. They comfort you, tell you that you're not the first one but the looming possibility that you may be given another patient instead gets slightly on your nerves. At one point you actually start talking less with him as both of you end up doing your own thing instead as you run out of ideas. Ironically enough it is during one of those sessions of complete silence that he speaks for the first time and all because you bring a book full with stories for children with you which you plan to read to your neighbour's kid for tonight. You notice how his eyes flicker over the cover of the book, his head turning. When you ask him hesitantly what is going on he seems to contemplate for a few moments before he eventually admits that he used to read the same book to his younger brother back in the days.

🍡You discover that he is more likely to talk about fond memories that he has with his little brother than about himself and soon you realise that all of his positive memories involve Sasuke as he can't even recall one good memory he has had with his father, a stain that always seems to ruin any happy memory that could have been made. You make progress, surprise even your collegues. Itachi talks to you, he actually reveals bits of his thoughts and feelings to you and you listen intently, always thinking how to help him and slowly help him. What you fail to notice because they are so subtle are Itachi's growing feelings for you. You have a weird effect on you that lowers the walls he has built around his heart which makes it harder to keep those emotions under the grasp of control that he has always kept them. He knows that he can't admit that to anyone though, not even to you. You would be removed from the position of his psychiatrist and he can't allow that to happen. Not after he has started falling in love with you albeit in strange ways. Similar to Shisui, Itachi is going to play the long game with you and lock his feelings for you away as good as he can for now until the day he is released.

Uchiha Sasuke

🩵Sasuke is difficult to handle. A look within his files reveals why he is that way though as his past is marked with more tragedies than most people will experience throughout their entire lives. His entire family was murdered by his own brother who was wanted by the police for years only for Sasuke to track him down years later. His older brother, murdered by his own hands only to find out after he had been arrested by the police that they had found out that he had been blackmailed as Sasuke would have otherwise been murdered as the youngest son of a prominent chief. One can only imagine what he must have gone through after that information had been revealed to him as he had just killed his last family member with his own hands, the blood still sticking to his fingers. When he had initially been delivered to the psychiatric ward he had been nothing but a bundle of rage, anger and hatred. Unwilling to get on friendly terms with anyone, harsh words shot at ay person who had gotten too close to him or had even remotely tried to get to know him better. Even violence hadn't been that unlikely from him which had resulted in him spending a lot of time in the solitary cell.

🩵By the time you are appointed to be his psychiatrist Sasuke has learned to deal with his rage better though it all is still simmering within him. He's just managed to control it better. He's disinterested when he is forced to attend his first session with you though. You are only one of many faces after all and he's sure that you too will leave sooner or later. There is one specific reason why you have been appointed to him though. Your mother actually knew his parents as she worked in the same station as his father and perhaps that's why you are believed to have better chances with him as your mother has told you a lot about his parents. The moment he finds out, that dismissive attitude changes as you notice it in his eyes during the next session as they inspect you with a hint of hostility and unease. It's uncomfortable, the thought that you may know more about him than people should know about him. His past is what makes him vulnerable and because you have more personal information about his parents and potentially even him it makes him feel exposed. He's definitely more on defense after he knows that though at one point he can't help but ask what you all know from your mother.

🩵He lives in the past, you can tell that as you indulge him and tell him of memories your mother has told you about his father and his mother. The most talkative you witness him is when you tell him about the past as his happiness only exists within that place. He clings to what was and you want to try to shift his focus to the now. In a way you succeed, though perhaps not quite as you had imagined. Sasuke bonds with you over his past, bonds with you. It's the first time that he has actually formed a functioning relationship with someone ever since the death of his brother and his emotions almost instantly latch on to you as a result. Sasuke is demanding. If he is going to have a future in this world then you will be in it. One way or another he is going to have you in his life and he doesn't need your consens for that. You should rejoice though, after all you can do exactly the job you are supposed to do for him. You can help him to get better, to start a new life. Sure, the methods might be vastly different from what you are supposed to do for your patients but he's sure that you will do whatever it takes to help to get him better. Otherwise he mightdestroy the progress you have made with him.

546 notes · View notes

mossangelll · 6 months ago

Text

yandere!jinx x reader headcanons

thought i’d go into how yandere jinx would capture get you into a relationship ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

tw: abusive behaviour

i feel like there’s two pathways to getting in a relationship with her, both suck equally

pathway 1: she stalked you for a while before deciding to talk to you! she wanted it to be “organic” but she couldn’t just go in knowing nothing about you…what kind of impression would that make?

the first time she does speak to you she mentions some obscure ritual of yours that she should absolutely not know about…she distracts you with a confetti bomb

you fell for it

i love the idea that once you become friends she gives you gifts with tracking devices in them and you’re none the wiser - this is exactly why you need her to protect you! if she has your best interests at heart and can get away with something like that, who knows what someone with bad intentions could do to you!

since she’s past the stage of just being acquaintances with you, her mask starts to slip and her manipulative behaviour becomes more pronounced

first she guilt trips you into hanging out with her for longer periods of time, then she starts complaining about the fact you have other friends - she absolutely weaponises her abandonment issues even if she hates to talk about it in any other situation

before you know it you’re isolated from your family and friends and spend all of your time with jinx :3

she treats it like a 24/7 sleepover except you have to do what she says if you don’t want to be victim to her lashing out

pathway 2: she straight up kidnapped you and figured she can form a relationship with you once you’re captive (that is how dating works, right?)

you would come home from work one day to find a weird metal device laying on your pillow, your name spray painted onto it surrounded by love hearts

you’d fiddle with it for a bit before gas floods your room

you’re knocked out like a light and jinx drops down from the ceiling doing a happy dance

she won’t tell silco about it but he eventually realises something’s up when she starts to steal large amounts of food from the bar

he finds you in her den and demands jinx tell him what is going on

she dances around the topic (literally and figuratively) trying to buy her way out of it but when she sees the disapproving glare in silco’s good eye she deflates - she can’t keep you her little secret anymore

honestly she tells him a few too many details like wayyyyyyyy too many

even he was weirded out

but jinx is his daughter so she gets away with it as per usual

ok back to the kidnapping, when you come to you’re tied down to a surprisingly plush chair and jinx is ALL up in your space

like imagine a kid with their face smushed up to the vending machine glass, she’s so entranced when she has you

she just thinks you’re so cute when you’re sleeping!

of course she expected there to be some…growing pains so she makes sure to have her gun in plain sight - she doesn’t want you getting any fun ideas about “escaping”

if you’re aggressive and moody with her she honestly loves it

in her mind the fact you’re showing so much raw emotion proves you must love her (even if you’ve only known her for like 5 minutes)

however if you’re constantly screaming and begging to leave even after you’ve been in captivity for a while it would trigger her abandonment issues and she would snap

she just doesn’t get it. she makes you fun gadgets, does your hair, tries to get you to open up about yourself even though she already knows most things about you - why do you want to leave her so badly?

however, if you refuse to engage with her at all and completely blank out her existence her patience would run out very quickly

you’re her new fixation and she wants to get to unravel every layer of you, not feel unwanted

so she does some good old trauma bonding by dangling you over the edge of her workshop railing, eyes cold and a deep frown set into her face

in her defense she catches you right as you’re about to fall!

she embraces you, crying with you as she tells you that if she was anyone else (who didn’t love you as much as she did) they would have let you fall but she cares about you 🥺 she only meant to teach you a lesson about the real world 🥺

you’re so conflicted and scared; you know what she did was fucked up, but adrenaline pumps through your veins and you feel like you’re about to throw up, so you just accept her comfort

sometimes she leaves you all on your own in her workshop when she’s off doing odd jobs for silco and you begin to crave human connection so deeply that when jinx suggests a spa night with cuddles at the end, you don’t say no

——————————————————————————

this is actually just me manifesting that jinx becomes real and obsesses over me…she’s so dreamy <3

masterlist

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #toxic jinx #yandere jinx x reader #yandere!jinx #arcane headcanon #yandere #jinx league of legends #headcanons

417 notes · View notes

ozzgin · 2 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/fangdokja/780957838431436800/update-log-no-one-is-safe-anymore-you-may?source=share

I'm sorry but can you shed some visibility on this (if you are comfortable) it seems the situation is worse than we thought. She posts so much I would have never seen this had I still been following her. You can ignore if you want

Here's the link for everyone

Thank you for sharing anon, I don't keep tabs on people I no longer have business with, so I wouldn't have known myself. This is referring to the anti-queer yandere writer I posted about recently.

I also want to make a quick disclaimer that I'm not bashing anyone for writing taboo topics. Fiction is fiction and one should not censor ideas regardless of their stance. It would be quite hypocritical of me to weep over some matters while me and my mutuals write yandere/dark content to begin with. So, just to clarify, I am not the trope police.

I think the problem lies within the wording again, which is even more peculiar as it's coming from a person who's extremely eloquent and chooses their sentences carefully. It's one thing to say you want to write without worrying about censorship; many authors here express the same disappointment.

On the other hand, stating that you've been longing for and holding back from writing about

Concentration camps

Genocide

Antisemitism

Racism

White Supremacy

KKK

Paedophilia ("No boundaries—children, infants, innocence—nothing is sacred in fiction")

Fatphobia and body-shaming

Conversion therapy

is honestly wild and sounds to me like a cry for attention from an individual having a breakdown. Copy-pasting a list of trigger warnings with flashing headlines of "it's going down guys, the shackles are coming off", as if hate crimes are some sort of evening entertainment is disturbing. It's giving middle schooler who discovered 4Chan and is coming up with ways to offend people and sound "unhinged".

Interestingly, nothing from the list contains triggers that she would find offensive, such as religious blasphemies or anything to do with Christianity. The classic case of 'no boundaries count except for mine, of course'. :)

Serious question, though, are we sure this is an actual adult and not some elaborate joke crafted by an edgy kid after catholic school hours? The whole post is written in such an obviously cringe way that I personally cannot take it seriously.

#personal #once again not a call for personal attacks #just an informative post for people who may choose to not interact with this person anymore due to their harmful beliefs

208 notes · View notes

helslastangel · 11 months ago

Text

Random Astro Observations #5

Disclaimer: These are based on personal observations and experiences and may not resonate for everyone with these placements. If it doesn’t apply, let it fly 🪽

Ascendant sextile Sun

😊 You are a smart, active, and exuberant person. Others not only notice you but they are inspired by your seemingly endless supply of passion and energy.

🫂 Because there isn't much difference between your outward behavior and inner self, others usually perceive you as genuine and feel at ease to be themselves when you're around.

😥 Although your intentions are good, you learn the majority of life lessons through a series of unfortunate trials and errors.

⚠️ Your relationships especially may be a sore point, as energy vampires are drawn to people with bright, enthusiastic personalities.

❗️You're easily bored and should seek new places and experiences now and then to feel more balanced.

Ascendant opposite Moon

🥰 You are a caring, emotional, and sensitive person, almost to a fault. There is something about the way you move and carry yourself that makes you seem likable and nurturing or at the very least emotional and expressive.

🧡 You often connect well with others, leading people to seek you out for comfort or to have a shoulder to cry on.

❗️Having people you can be emotionally open with is important to you too, and you might struggle to feel genuinely content with few or no personal relationships.

😥 You may struggle to not become dependent on others for emotional support, especially if your mother was not affectionate and supportive in your formative years.

⚠️ You may also tend to over-identify with others and find yourself not knowing where your feelings end and where theirs begin. This lack of boundaries can leave you drained and prone to reactive behaviors that confuse others and push them away.

📝 Learning to self-soothe and find joy in your own company is a crucial part of your life journey, otherwise, people may decide that you're too demanding and overwhelming, or you may attract such people as friends.

📌 It's okay to acknowledge that isolation of any kind isn't your preferred way to live, however, you must address any issues with your sense of self-worth so you don't become dependent on external validation and support to be happy.

Ascendant square Mercury

✍️🏽 You have a way with words and enjoy communication of all kinds. Writing, speaking, or reading probably comes naturally to you and your mind is extremely active.

😹 You also really love to make other people laugh and might go to great lengths to do so.

🧠 Other people think you're intelligent and your curiosity does not go unnoticed.

😏 Sometimes you can be something of an instigator, but it is usually all in good fun.

🧩 You like mental challenges and won't back down from a controversial topic or an interesting debate.

🗣 You can be rather chatty in certain situations and love to educate others on topics you're knowledgeable and passionate about.

📝 Just be sure to pipe down and listen to what others have to say sometimes without taking things as a personal attack.

Ascendant conjunct Mars

😈 You're one sexy and magnetic spirit, unafraid to speak your mind and make your intentions crystal clear.

💪Despite any fears you may have, you project courage and strength to the outside world, often moving forcefully through the world as if you're the only one who can save it.

❓️People often have no idea how to react in your presence. You have a polarizing energy that causes people to either love or hate you, rarely anything in between, but quite often both at once.

⚠️ If you're a woman/feminine-presenting, you might find that many men become triggered in your presence and will lash out aggressively toward you for what seems like no reason at all. More than a few women will treat you with disdain (due to internalized misogyny) or suspicion (not necessarily hating you, but not knowing what to make of your personality, which they may have been socialized to perceive as masculine).

⚠️ If you're a man/masculine-presenting with this aspect, you may be find that many women want you but also despise and/or are extremely afraid of you at the same time. Most men will respond to your presence either with open passive-aggression (not really hating you, but feeling inadequate or "emasculated" by patriarchal standards) or envy you in silence, acting unbothered but quick to sabotage your all your movements (think Patrick Bateman, minus all the murder).

👔 With this aspect, you may find yourself being offered or even pushed into leadership roles that others have to apply for. Depending on your other placements, you may enjoy this or absolutely hate it.

ℹ️ Your physical appearance is usually fit and athletic in some way, regardless of whether you actually work out/play sports or not.

📝 Learn to control your anger and channel your energy into healthy outlets like business, high-intensity hobbies, sports or a professional that requires strength and assertive energy.

📌 Cultivate more patience and learn to have compassion for those who are not as quick or strong as you are, and your path through the world will be less rough.

Ascendant trine Jupiter

👔 You might surprise people a bit with how ambitious and determined you are underneath your polite, laid-back exterior.

🤭 Putting others at ease through your humor and enthusiasm makes you feel good and your generosity only sweetens the deal.

🪜Generally, though, relationships are very much a means to an end - you want to make it to the top and believe the right connections can take you there. The world is a bowl of opportunity and you intend to get your share.

📌 You have an expansive and optimistic view of life that can border on idealistic if you're not careful or have people in your life who can keep you grounded.

🗺 Knowledge in general interests you, but certain topics, like philosophy, world geography & culture, spirituality, medicine, politics and human behavior may especially grab your attention.

✈️ Travel or contact with people from varying backgrounds is good for you, and you may also benefit from blogging or sharing your findings with others through other mediums (vlogs, podcasts, etc.).

⚠️ In your quest to reach whatever heights appeal most to you, take care not to become too selfish in your interactions with others. Greed can quickly take you to the bottom instead of the top.

↤ go back to the masterlist

#astrology signs #astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astro posts #astrology tumblr #astro observations

441 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

Text

Work-Life Balance

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this and this and this

Warnings: non/dubcon, forced proximity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Clark Kent

Summary: a simple car pool leads to a compicated situation.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A haze of chatter buzzes behind your monitor. You do your best to tune it out as your fingertips skitter over your keyboard. For many, the day has been a wash, but you’re doing your best to square everything before the weekend. With the prospect of one less employee, you’ll need all the help you can get.

“Hey,” a deep voice rolls through the drone, “you coming?”

You keep typing, trying not to eaves drop. You tap the arrow keys, reviewing the column of numbers.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” they say firmer, tapping on the corner of your desk.

As if zapped, you recoil from your keyboard and sit back in your chair. You look at Clark as he smiles down at you, his expression much less demanding than his tone. You give a sheepish smile, or something halfway there.

“Sorry, I was...”

“I interrupted, I should apologise,” he insists, “Drea’s farewell party, you going? We’re just about to head out.”

“Um...” you don’t have an answer. It’s optional but you should go. You’ve been working with Drea for two years. You get along. Still, she’s leaving in the midst of busy season and won’t be there on Monday to help you catch up. “I...”

“Come on. You look stressed. You could use a break,” he says. “The Grill has cocktails, so I hear.”

“Well...” you twiddle your fingers against the armrests. “I guess I should.”

“It’ll be good,” he grins. The cleft in his chin deepens and his eyes crinkle, sparkling like blue ice. “I’ll let Gil known you need a seat. We should have some room. Meeting down in the lobby in ten.”

“Oh, ten...” you look at the screen, “sure, I’ll be there.”

“Great,” he backs up.

He walks away and you roll closer to your desk again. Clark is friendly. You don’t know much about him but he always says hello in the break room or holds the door if you get to work at the same time. Mostly, you just overhear him talking with others. He is somehow anywhere and everywhere.

Your focus is fractured. You do your best to get back to your task but can’t help but check the clock every thirty seconds. Somehow, you’re still late. You save your work and shut down, scrambling out as the new silence of the office sets in.

You swipe up your bag and scurry between the desks. The elevator door closes before you reach it. You’ll wait for the next or... You take the stairs. It’s only a few flights but you’ve been sitting all day. Your legs are stiff as you get to the bottom.

You come out in the lobby. Your coworkers are on their way to the front door, garbling even louder than they had upstairs. You hesitate, wondering if you could just sneak back up. Would anyone notice?

Your name splinters the thought. Clark waves at you and stops to wait as the others continue through the door. Right, you’ve been spotted. You flutter your fingers at him and cross the lobby. He holds the door as he always does.

You pass through ahead of him, “thanks.”

“Don’t worry, we didn’t forget you,” he assures as he follows. “Gil’s driving us,” he points across the lot.

“Right, awesome.”

You get to the grey minivan as the doors slide back. Several other groups cluster around other vehicles in their assigned car pools. You wait patiently with Clark as your coworkers claim their seats.

“Oh,” Gil stands by the driver door, “think we’re outta seats.”

You and Clark stand staring at one seat. You cringe. Of course.

“It’s okay. I can get an uber or check with...”

Sandra’s white SUV backs out and Don’s Honda is too small for much more than a few. You turn back, “I can find my own way.”

“We can squeeze in,” Clark says, “what is it? A ten-minute trip?”

“Something like that,” Gil agrees.

“Here,” Clark gets in the seat, “I’m bigger, just hop on.”

“Just don’t be obvious about it, I don’t need a ticket.”

Gil gets in the front as Clark climbs into the back seat. The others are too distracted chatting about some sports game to pay any heed. You stare at him. He's big man; wide shoulders, tall, the very definition of burly.

“Come on, it’ll be quick,” he fixes his glasses.

“Erm,” you swallow. How awkward. Still, you don’t want to make a big deal. You already feel like a leftover.

You get in and squeeze into the tight space between the seats. He pulls the door shut, his knees pressing into your legs, and you fall onto his lap. You let out an oof and feel around for something to steady yourself.

You grab onto his forearm unwittingly, “sorry, I...”

“All good,” he shifts under you, “comfortable?”

“Um, I guess,” you put your hand up to brace the ceiling.

“Let’s go,” Carrie demands from the backseat. “I need a martini.”

The van reverses then swerves around. You jostle on Clark’s lap, squeaking at the bounce of the axle. The well-worn minivan has been through it.

As Gil turns out of the lot, you grab onto the door to keep from sliding. Clark hooks his arm around you to keep you still. You shudder and try to adjust yourself, only pressing more firmly in his lap.

You apologise again.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles. “So, you got a lot of work?”

“Um, sure,” you’re happy he’s at least trying to break the tension. “Without Drea, things are going to be, er, tight.”

A pot hole bounces you and makes him grunt. Heat creeps up from your thighs and encases your torso. It’s even more awkward than you could expect. You didn’t have time to think this through.

“Yeah, I can imagine but I’m sure they’ll fill her spot soon,” he assures.

“Maybe,” you agree thinly.

Another jolt. The city really needs to work on the roads. You hold onto the door as Clark’s arm tightens around you. He groans with the motion of the car. You crane to see around the driver seat. You gotta be getting close.

“Well...” his voice is strained. Are you too heavy? “You know, there’s lots of people who can help out.”

As the van passes over the lip of the parking lot, something pokes into you from below. You gulp and latch onto the seat in front of you. It can’t be. Clark pulls his arm back and spreads his large hand over your stomach. His other hand pushes down on your thigh. You feel him twitch under you and the prodding is more obvious.

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” you squeak.

Gil finally finds a spot but there’s no relief to be had. You’re pretty sure you know what’s poking into you and you don’t want to embarrass your coworker. As the van stops, you twist in his lap, unintentionally grinding into him.

You grab onto the door, fighting to pull it back, only managing to rock against Clark as you struggle. He lets out a long breath and reaches over to help you. His other hand trails around your back and nudges you out slowly.

You eagerly hop out ahead of him. He groans and takes his time. You don’t look back, instead focusing on the restaurant marquee. The other laugh again as some joke you didn’t catch. Gil is on his phone as he gets out.

“I’ll follow, wife’s calling,” he gestures you with a flick of his fingers.

“Come on,” Clark gets out and closes the door. “I’m starving.”

You walk up next to him, following the rest of the group. Another bunch of your coworkers reach the door ahead of them. Clark clears his throat and your gaze is drawn to him as he tugs at his belt. How horrifying. Hopefully, you can find a seat away from him or the elephant in the room will be standing right on your chest.

You hurry ahead to catch the door behind your coworkers. Clark grabs it past your head and stays close. You approach the reserved table but find most of it is already claimed. There’s a space at the end of the bench.

You go down and sidle beside the table. Clark takes your lead again. The bench spans the wall and you’re penned into the corner as he sits beside you. He leans one arm on the table as he looks down at the menu. You lean forward to do the same. It’s a good distraction. If neither of you mention what happened, then you’ll get through this.

“What’re you thinking?” Clark asks.

“Huh?” You look at him, startled.

“What’re you going to get?” He taps the menu, “some interesting stuff.

“Oh, I’m still looking,” you say.

You put your head down and drag a finger over the options. As you do, you feel a tickle along the side of your skirt. You wrestle between the pad thai and the salmon salad as the sensation creeps over your thigh.

You tense as warmth spreads over your thigh. You lean back and look down, realising that Clark’s hand is on your leg. He kneads your thigh as he stays perfectly unaffected above the table. He leans on his elbow and sucks his teeth.

“Pasta sounds good but it feels too early for that,” he muses.

What do you do? You look around. No one else has any clue. You’re too self-conscious to say anything. He could just move his hand and say you’re lying. Then what? Besides, you were sitting on his lap a few moments ago. What would they think?

Clark’s leg moves wide and presses against yours as he hums, “you know, I just can’t figure out what exactly I’m craving,” his hand trails down to the hem of your skirt. “But I am starving.”

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #drabble #superman #dcu #dc

285 notes · View notes

n1daehodefender · 5 months ago

Text

Kang dae-ho angst headcanons

pairing: Kang dae-ho

A/N: This is not a x reader bc i have never written full angst BUT i have a couple angst Drafts of dae ho x reader, if you want me to publish them lmk idk if their Any good tho:( anyway requests are always open!!!!

Warnings: The following headcanons contain themes of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), childhood abuse, violence, and psychological distress. Also this is how i see the character, out visions might be different! Some of these might be canon

His father’s disdain for his interests and the forced enlistment in the marines haunt Dae-ho, leading him to constantly question his own worth and choices.

Conditioned by past abuse to believe he is always at fault, he apologizes excessively, even when he has done nothing wrong, reflecting his low self-esteem.

Dae-ho frequently experiences vivid nightmares of the shooting incident during his marine service, often waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, as the memories replay in his mind.

Even in seemingly safe environments, Dae-ho remains constantly on edge, his eyes darting around, muscles tense, always anticipating potential threats due to his PTSD.

Certain sounds, like gunfire or loud bangs, trigger intense flashbacks to the traumatic events he witnessed, causing him to freeze or react defensively, reliving the moments as if they were happening again.

He avoids discussing his time in the marines, deflecting conversations or changing topics to prevent resurfacing painful memories that he struggles to suppress.

Dae-ho grapples with overwhelming guilt, questioning why he survived the shooting incident when many of his comrades did not, leading to feelings of unworthiness and self-blame.

To cope with his trauma, he often shuts down emotionally, finding it difficult to connect with others or express his feelings, creating a barrier between him and those who care about him.

Sudden movements or unexpected touches cause him to flinch or react defensively, a reflex ingrained from his time in combat and his abusive childhood.

Fearful of the nightmares that plague his sleep, Dae-ho often stays awake for days, leading to chronic exhaustion and difficulty concentrating during waking hours.

Believing he is a burden due to his trauma, he distances himself from friends and family, preferring solitude over the risk of causing them distress or facing their pity.

In high-stress situations, Dae-ho experiences debilitating panic attacks, characterized by shortness of breath, chest pain, and a sense of impending doom, leaving him feeling powerless.

Trust Issues: Betrayals and loss have made it difficult for him to trust others, always questioning their motives and fearing abandonment or further hurt.

Physical closeness triggers memories of past abuse, causing him to shy away from affectionate gestures, even when he craves connection and comfort.

To mask his insecurities and trauma, Dae-ho often overcompensates by displaying excessive confidence or bravado, hiding his vulnerabilities behind a facade.

In an attempt to numb his pain and silence his thoughts, he occasionally turns to alcohol or medication, leading to moments of dependency and further self-loathing.

During periods of extreme stress or sleep deprivation, Dae-ho experiences hallucinations of his deceased comrades, blurring the lines between reality and memory.

Due to his father’s authoritarian nature and strict military superiors, Dae-ho harbors an ingrained fear of authority, leading to anxiety in hierarchical settings.

Confined spaces remind him of traumatic situations, triggering intense claustrophobia and panic, making it difficult for him to use elevators or small rooms.

Fearing loss, Dae-ho becomes overly protective of those he cares about, sometimes to the point of being overbearing, driven by the need to prevent further trauma.

Stress-induced dissociation leads to gaps in his memory, causing him to forget important conversations or events, adding to his frustration and sense of helplessness.

In an attempt to regain control over his life, Dae-ho becomes obsessively perfectionistic, setting unattainable standards for himself and berating himself when he falls short.

Past experiences have instilled a deep-seated fear of failure, causing him to avoid new opportunities or challenges, believing he is destined to fail.

Bottled-up emotions occasionally erupt uncontrollably, leading to angry or tearful outbursts over seemingly minor issues, surprising those around him.

During moments of severe stress, Dae-ho feels disconnected from his surroundings, as if observing his life from outside his body, a dissociative coping mechanism.

Deep down, Dae-ho believes he is unlovable due to his trauma, leading him to sabotage relationships to avoid the pain of potential rejection.

Accustomed to suppressing his feelings, he struggles to articulate his emotions, often resorting to silence or dismissive remarks.

Despite self-isolating, Dae-ho yearns for companionship, battling the paradox of craving connection while fearing the vulnerability it requires.

#kang dae ho #squid game #squid game 2 #kang dae ho x reader #squid game x reader #kang ha neul #kang dae ho angst #kang dae ho headcanons

156 notes · View notes

fatkish · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy, i wanted to request a Eresermic im which Aizawa has a biological daughter, but she is being bullied and they noticed when she was already thinking in ending it all.

I understand if this is too dark, i just lived something similar and my parents blamed me, so some confort would be apreciared hahaha

Thankss, i love your writing 🩷

(Oh my gosh, this hits so close to home because this happened to me. My parents grew up in the era where if boys were mean to you it was because they like you. So when I begged them to do something about my bullies, they did nothing. Needless to say, my childlike innocence was the only reason why I’m alive. Although I may be doing better than I was back then, nothing can erase the trauma from the unintentional neglect from my parents. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be basing this somewhat off of my own experience and I’ll be putting it in the Pro Heroes x Inner Child Series)

Erasermic x Aizawa’s Bullied Daughter Reader

(TRIGGER WARNING: This story has mentions of bullying, harassment, allusions to suicide and suicidal thoughts, depression and other potentially triggering topics. Please be advised)

Since you basically have two dads, you refer to Hizashi as papa and Shouta as dad

Your quirk was called restraint. Basically if you called someone by their real, full name, you could temporarily restrain them as long as you focused on them

But just like your dad, you also had to be able to see your target

But unlike your classmates, you were a late bloomer. You developed your quirk at age 8, which led to you being bullied by your peers

You knew that your dad’s worked really hard and that their jobs were really stressful at times. So the last thing you wanted was to be another source of stress for them. Which is why you didn’t tell them about the bullying

You were 11 when you just couldn’t take it anymore. You tried to deal with the situation on your own, you tried to fight your bullies who even started making fun of your dad’s being a couple

You tried not to let anyone’s words affect you but after so many years, you started to believe them too. And you began to bully yourself

You would tell yourself that your dad’s already had enough stress on their plates and that you were just a burden on them. You had started to mentally and physically beat yourself up

The bullies had started to use their quirks on you, resulting in bruises which you would hide with makeup that your Aunt Nemuri had gotten you since you started to develop acne

Since your dads would get home late, you had plenty of time to get home and cover up any wounds

One day, you just had enough

You decided that you were better off dead. You decided that you would take your own life after you got home and would leave a note before leaving the house so your dads wouldn’t have to deal with the body

Unknown to you, Aizawa had gotten a call from one of your teachers who was concerned about you. She had seen you fighting and decided to give Aizawa a call since your grades and overall performance had declined significantly

Aizawa had informed Hizashi of the call and they decided to go home early and wait for you. They believed that you were going through puberty and the hormonal changes were effecting your performance and were the cause

Imagine their surprise when you get home, covered in bruises, a busted lip that was still bleeding and a completely dead look in your eyes

Seeing their precious baby in such a state they immediately started to worry and begged you to talk to them

They had prepared your favorite food for dinner and even got you your favorite dessert as a treat. Seeing how sweet they were, you broke down and confessed your pain and your plan

Hizashi was balling his eyes out and wrapped you in his arms while Aizawa had clenched fists with tears in his eyes.

Aizawa made the call to your school demanding a talk with the principal and the parents of your bullies. While Aizawa was setting that up, Hizashi had you sit on the couch while he tended to your wounds, disinfecting them, cleaning them and bandaging them

He told you that he loves you even though you’re not his biological kid, you’re HIS little listener, his favorite kid in the whole world. He then picked you up and smothered you in hugs and kisses

Aizawa came back into the room and brought the food

That night, you guys are on the couch as you snuggled together under a blanket and watch your favorite movie

The next day, Aizawa and Hizashi dropped you off at UA with Nemuri, while they had a talk with your teachers and bullies. They decided that homeschooling would be the best for you right now since they want to make sure you heal mentally, physically and emotionally from this before you go back

They had told Nedzu what happened and he agreed that for the meantime, until you were mentally stable again, the safest bet would be to have you do your homeschooling at UA where you’ll be surrounded by people who can help you and prevent you from doing anything detrimental to yourself

Needless to say, they love you and you are their whole world and you’re the reason why they fight to come home. You’re their motivation and the reason they fight to protect

(I hoped this helps you and that you guys enjoy this)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #mha pro heroes #pro heroes x child reader #present mic x reader #present mic x child reader #hizashi yamada x reader #Hizashi Yamada x child reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x child reader #aizawa x daughter reader #Erasermic x child reader #erasermic x reader #aizawa shouta x reader

773 notes · View notes

twistedheartsclub · 2 months ago

Text

Pinned Beneath Him Male Mechanic X Reader

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual sexual situations, psychological manipulation, physical violence, and dubious consent. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Please do not read if these topics may be triggering or distressing.

It was the kind of town where dust clung to your ankles and everybody knew your business before you did. Quiet, sun-bleached, always humming with cicadas and the low growl of trucks. Y/N didn’t plan to stay long. Just long enough to settle her late aunt’s affairs and figure out where the hell she was supposed to go next.

But the old truck had other ideas.

It gave out on a backroad just shy of town—shuddered, hissed, and died in the heat like a wounded animal. She coaxed it down the road in neutral, heart in her throat, until she spotted the garage: Walker’s Auto, paint peeling off the sign, metal doors thrown open to let the heat spill in.

Inside, a man was working on a car that looked older than sin but ran like it was sacred. He had his back to her, bent over the open hood—broad shoulders glinting with sweat, tan skin streaked with oil and grease. Shirt tied around his waist, black tank top hugging every line of his muscled frame. He looked like he belonged to the heat—mean and golden, all hard edges and rough hands.

She stepped closer, heart thudding.

“Excuse me?” she said softly.

He didn’t look up.

“Closed.”

“I—I know. I’m sorry. But my truck just died and I—”

“I said we’re closed.” He straightened finally, tossing a wrench into a tray. His eyes met hers—and she felt like she’d been struck. Dark eyes, sharp jaw, days-old scruff, and a mouth that looked like it only ever smirked or scowled.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said, quietly, trying not to flinch. “Everything else is shut down.”

He stared at her for a long beat. Then looked past her at the steaming mess of her truck outside. He huffed a sigh, muttering something under his breath.

“Jesus. Fine. Pop the hood before it melts into the damn asphalt.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind, sweetheart.”

And that was how she met Cal Walker—grumpy, grease-stained, absolutely carved out of stone. He barely spoke to her while he worked, just grunted and cursed under his breath, sweat dripping down his temples.

But she saw it—the way he glanced at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way his jaw clenched when she smiled at him.

He got the truck running, barely. Told her she’d need to come back. Told her not to drive it more than five miles or she’d blow it to hell.

Then he walked back into the garage without another word.

She brought him a pie the next day. Just to say thank you.

And that’s when it started.

The town was called Cedar Rock, but there weren’t many trees. Just dry hills, winding roads, and one main street lined with fading brick buildings that looked like they hadn’t changed since the 1950s. A diner. A barber shop. A bait-and-tackle store no one really needed anymore. And of course, Walker’s Auto—right on the edge of town like it was daring anyone to bother it.

Y/N had only ever been there once before, years ago. Her aunt Miriam had moved there for “peace and quiet” after a messy divorce, dragging her younger sister with her. Y/N remembered visiting in the summers, always itching to leave by day three. Too hot. Too slow. Too many eyes.

Now she was back for the worst reason—Miriam had passed suddenly. No warning. No goodbye. She’d left behind a modest home at the edge of town, a mountain of books, some old records, and a town full of people who acted like they’d known Y/N her whole life.

They didn’t.

But that didn’t stop them from butting in.

There was Mrs. Callahan, the nosy neighbor who brought over dry cookies and even drier gossip.

“So sorry about Miriam, honey. But between you and me, she was never quite right after that man left her. Maybe it’s good you’re here now. You can clean things up.”

And Rhett, the flirty cashier at the general store, who asked if she needed “a strong pair of hands” to help move furniture. His breath smelled like chewing tobacco and desperation.

Everywhere she went, people smiled too wide, asked too many questions, and called her “sweetheart” like it was her name.

“You stickin’ around?”

“What do you do again?”

“You seeing anyone?”

She lied. Often.

Y/N wasn’t planning to stay. She worked remotely as a digital illustrator—did book covers and concept art for indie authors. It paid the bills, gave her freedom. She could work from anywhere… but God, she missed the noise of the city. The coffee shops. The trains. The strangers who didn’t look at her like they already knew who she was.

Her sister, Ava, was supposed to arrive the next day. Loud, sharp-tongued, city to the core. Y/N was counting the hours. Until then, she stayed low, tried to keep to herself.

But the truck was acting up again.

So back she went to Walker’s Auto, fingers crossed, jaw tight.

This time, Cal was sitting outside the garage in a folding chair, smoking a cigarette like it owed him money. Boots planted wide, tank top soaked with sweat. He saw her pulling up and didn’t move. Just watched.

She parked. Stepped out.

“It’s doing that thing again.”

“No shit,” he said, flicking ash to the ground. “I told you not to drive it.”

“I had to pick up a delivery from the post office. It’s kind of important.”

He stood. Slowly. Walked over, looking her up and down like he was checking for damage.

“That pie you brought yesterday,” he said, squinting at her. “Was it supposed to taste like soap or was that a mistake?”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?!”

His mouth twitched. Almost a smile.

“I’m kidding. It was good. Real good.”

She blinked, caught between offense and shock. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah,” he said, opening the hood. “I’ve been told.”

He’s under the hood again, hands deep in her engine, grumbling like he’s arguing with it. Y/N leans against the fender, arms crossed, trying not to stare too long at the way his back flexes every time he moves.

“So what now?” she asks after a beat. “You fixing it, or giving it last rites?”

Cal pulls his head out from under the hood, wiping his hands on a rag. “Needs a part I don’t have in stock. Gotta order it. You’ll be outta wheels for a couple days, maybe more.”

She sighs. “Of course.”

He eyes her. Then, after a long pause, says, “You got places you need to be?”

“…Why?”

“I can drive you.”

She blinks. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Didn’t stop me from eating your pie,” he shoots back, that same flicker of a grin threatening the corner of his mouth.

“…Y/N,” she finally says, slowly. “Y/N L/N.”

He nods once. “Cal Walker.”

A handshake might be too formal, too stiff for the heat between them. But he pulls out a phone, taps it once, then holds it out. “Put your number in. I’ll text when the part gets here. And if you need a ride—”

“I’ll owe you,” she finishes, narrowing her eyes a little.

“Damn right you will.”

But there’s no menace in it. Just something… curious. Interested. Like he’s trying to figure out what kind of storm just blew into his shop.

She hesitates, then takes the phone and types her number in. A moment later, hers vibrates with a text: “Cal – grumpy mechanic, don’t block me.”

She smirks, despite herself. “Grumpy is an understatement.”

“You city girls always this mouthy?”

“Only when we’re right.”

He watches her, the smile ghosting again across his face. “You said city—where from?”

“Chicago.”

He whistles low. “Your aunt ever tell you she made the best damn cornbread in this state?”

Y/N pauses. “You knew her?”

Cal nods, leaning against the truck beside her. “Yeah. Miriam was a hell of a woman. Smart. Tough. Didn’t take shit from anybody. She helped me out when I first started this place.” A pause. “Sorry she’s gone.”

The air softens between them.

“…Thanks,” Y/N says quietly.

He nods once more, eyes back on the engine like he’s hiding from something.

Two days later,

A blue car kicks up dust in the driveway. Y/N’s on the porch in cutoffs and a loose tee, hair up, sketchbook balanced on her knees.

Ava steps out of the car like she’s arriving for a magazine shoot—sunglasses, iced coffee, and attitude.

“Jesus Christ,” she says, shielding her eyes. “It’s hotter than Satan’s ass.”

Y/N laughs and runs down to hug her. Ava hugs back, then pulls away to eye her up and down.

“You look like a local. What the hell happened to you?”

Y/N grins. “I met a mechanic.”

Ava pauses, takes off her glasses. “You slept with a mechanic?”

“No!”

“…Yet.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but her cheeks warm.

Ava arches a brow. “What, is he hot or something?”

Y/N tries not to smile. “He’s—he’s rude. And weird. But yeah. He’s also built like sin and has forearms that could bench press a car.”

Ava whistles low. “And here I thought this was gonna be boring.”

Y/N laughs. “Oh, it’s still boring. But it’s getting…interesting.”

The next afternoon.

It’s early evening when Cal pulls up to the house in a beat-up black pickup that growls more than it drives. He doesn’t text first. Doesn’t call. Just shows up like he owns the dirt under his tires.

Y/N’s on the porch with Ava, drinking lemonade and sketching. Ava’s wearing sunglasses and a smirk, scrolling on her phone.

The truck crunches to a stop. The engine shuts off.

Y/N’s heart skips. “That’s him.”

Ava lowers her glasses, eyes narrowing as she watches him climb out—tight jeans, oil-stained shirt, rolled sleeves, sun-kissed skin, and those arms. He looks like trouble in human form. And he’s walking toward them with that slow, heavy step that says he’s not used to being interrupted.

“You weren’t kidding,” Ava murmurs. “He looks like a one-man demolition team.”

Cal stops at the foot of the porch, eyes flicking between them. “Truck’s ready,” he says simply. Then nods to Ava. “You the sister?”

Ava flashes a practiced smile. “That’s me. Ava. And you’re the mechanic with the bad attitude?”

Cal lifts a brow. “Guess I am.”

Y/N gives her a look. “Ava…”

“What? I’m just being friendly.”

Cal’s eyes stay on Ava for a second longer—measuring, unamused—but then they shift back to Y/N, and something softens. “Brought the keys,” he says, holding them out. “Did a little more than I said I would.”

“Oh?” Y/N asks, standing to take them.

“Figured if you’re gonna be stuck here, you should at least be able to leave when you want.”

Ava raises a brow. “Romantic. In a caveman kind of way.”

Cal doesn’t look at her. His eyes stay locked on Y/N. “I’ll swing by next week, make sure it’s still running smooth. And your brakes—don’t trust ‘em just yet.”

Y/N nods. “Thanks. Really.”

For a second, the air gets heavier—like something wants to be said but neither of them says it.

Ava fans herself. “This is cute. You two got a whole Jane Austen-in-a-garage thing going on.”

Cal finally glances at her again. “You always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m bored.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“I don’t do entertainment,” Cal says coolly, turning back to the truck.

“Oh, honey,” Ava calls after him, “I wasn’t talking about you.”

The driver’s door slams. The engine roars to life. But before he pulls away, he gives Y/N one last look through the open window—something unreadable in his eyes.

Then he’s gone, dust rising behind his wheels.

Y/N lets out a breath. Ava sips her lemonade, looking smug.

“God, I love watching men squirm.”

“You’re going to scare him off,” Y/N mutters, cheeks warm.

Ava grins. “If that man gets scared, I’ll buy a church hat and call myself polite.”

The days pass slow. Hot sun. Lazy fans. The house creaks like it remembers more than it should.

Y/N and Ava spend their afternoons sorting through their aunt’s things—dusty records, yellowed books, notes scribbled in the margins of cookbooks. Every drawer holds something sentimental or strange. Miriam had been a little witchy, a little wild. She wrote letters she never sent. Kept love poems in a tin under her bed.

The girls laugh, cry, and argue through it all. But there’s an ache under the surface—waiting for the lawyer’s call to read the will. Waiting to know what their aunt really left behind.

And everywhere they go, the town has something to say.

At the diner, waitresses whisper when the girls walk in. At the gas station, old men tip their hats too slow. At the general store, Rhett smirks when he says, “Heard you’ve been spending time at Walker’s. He’s not the friendly type, y’know.”

Y/N ignores most of it, but Ava eats it up. She teases Y/N constantly.

“You’re a hot topic now,” she says one afternoon, tossing another stack of papers into a donation box. “The city girl who came back with legs, lips, and an oil-stained guardian angel.”

Y/N throws a sock at her.

Then the invitation comes.

The Cedar Rock Summer Social. A town dance held in the square, string lights, barbecue, live music, cold beer.

“Your aunt went every year,” Mrs. Callahan chirps when she drops off another pie. “She was always the best dancer. Real heartbreaker in her day.”

Ava’s already pulling up outfit ideas on her phone. “We’re going,” she says firmly. “You need to wear something soft and accidental. Like you just rolled out of a dream.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” Y/N lies.

Ava smirks. “You already are.”

That night, the square glows like magic.

Y/N wears a simple sundress—dusty blue, soft and fluttery at the edges. Her hair’s pinned half-up. Lip gloss catching the light. She feels nervous for reasons she refuses to name.

Ava looks like she walked off a runway—red dress, cowboy boots, daring grin.

They walk through the crowd, greeted by too many hellos, and then—

Y/N sees him.

Cal.

In a clean, fitted button-down. Dark jeans. Boots polished. Beard trimmed just enough. Still rough around the edges, but God, he cleans up good. Like someone took all that smolder and gave it shine.

He doesn’t see her at first—he’s leaning against a light post, watching the music quietly, sipping from a cold beer. But when he does see her—his eyes track her like he’s bracing for impact.

And he doesn’t look away.

Y/N’s stomach flips.

Ava leans in and murmurs, “You’re welcome.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. Yet.”

Later, when the band kicks into a slow, swaying rhythm, Ava nudges Y/N toward Cal.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Oh yes, you are. Either you walk over there, or I will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I will. And I’ll ask him to dance myself, in that low sexy voice that always works.”

Y/N glares, red creeping up her neck. But Ava’s already pushing her forward.

She stumbles a little, stops a few feet from him. Cal’s brow raises slightly.

“You look different,” he says.

“So do you,” she fires back. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the grease and attitude.”

His mouth twitches. “Still got the attitude. Just left it in the truck.”

The music swells. People are dancing. The moment hovers.

Y/N hesitates, then blurts, “Do you… wanna dance?”

A beat.

Then, slowly, Cal sets his drink aside. Takes a step closer.

“I don’t really dance,” he murmurs.

She starts to nod, backing off—“It’s okay—”

But then he reaches for her hand.

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t try.”

When he touches her, it’s not like anything she expected. His hand is warm, rough, but his grip is gentle. Protective. They sway under the lights, surrounded by murmurs and soft fiddles.

And somewhere between his arm around her waist and the sound of his breath near her ear— Y/N realizes she’s in trouble.

Because her heart is beating too fast. Because she doesn’t want to pull away. Because Cal Walker smells like smoke and cedar and something else she could get addicted to.

And when their eyes meet—his gaze steady, unreadable—

She realizes she might not just like him.

She might really like him.

The song is slow. Soft. The kind of old tune you only hear at small-town dances or on your grandparents’ radio. The crowd sways, some couples close and lazy, others just barely moving.

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest, her free hand lightly resting on Cal’s shoulder—but it’s his hand on her waist that does her in. It’s firm. Possessive. Like he wants to pull her closer, but he’s holding back.

And their hands—God—he didn’t just take her hand politely like a gentleman. He intertwined their fingers. Like it meant something. Like he wasn’t planning to let go.

His thumb brushes the side of her hand in slow, unconscious strokes, sending heat racing up her arm.

“You’re not from around here,” he says, voice low. “That obvious?”

“You stick out,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to her mouth, then back up. “Not in a bad way.”

She swallows. “You… been here your whole life?”

“Most of it,” he says. “Left for a while. Came back. This town’s a pain in the ass, but it’s mine.”

A moment passes. The music hums on. His gaze stays locked to hers.

Then he says, “How old are you?”

The question catches her off guard. “What?”

“Your age,” he repeats, not letting her go. “You look young. Not a kid. But young.”

She hesitates. “Twenty-five.”

He’s quiet for a second. “Yeah. That tracks.”

“What about you?”

He smirks. “Older.”

“Cryptic.”

“Thirty-four.”

Y/N raises a brow. “That’s not bad.”

“You were expecting worse?”

“I don’t know. You give off serious grumpy-old-man energy.”

That pulls a low chuckle from his chest. It’s the first time she’s heard him laugh like that—real, unguarded. It does things to her.

Then his voice drops, a little rougher.

“You got a boyfriend back in the city?”

She blinks. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” he says, eyes dipping again, thumb still stroking her fingers. “Just wondered what kind of idiot would let someone like you go.”

The words hit like a punch wrapped in silk. Warm. Intimate. Dangerous.

She doesn’t know what to say. Can’t look away from him.

“You ask all the girls you dance with questions like that?” she tries to joke, her voice a little shakier than she wants it to be.

“I don’t dance with girls,” he says. “Just you.”

The space between them gets smaller. His hand slides just a little lower on her waist. Not indecent—but just enough to make her breath catch. Just enough to make her feel it.

“You cold?” he asks, voice like smoke.

“No,” she whispers.

“Good.”

Because he’s not planning to let go yet.

The song winds down, soft chords fading into the clatter of applause and laughter. Couples begin to drift apart, breaking to get drinks, cool off, or sneak kisses behind food trucks.

Y/N steps back, just a little. “Thanks for the dance,” she says, voice quiet, a little breathless.

But Cal doesn’t let go right away.

His hand lingers on her waist, rough palm warm through the thin fabric of her dress. His other hand still holds hers, fingers still locked, and when he leans in—just a little—he brushes his lips against her cheek.

Not too close to the mouth. Not too far either.

Just dangerously in-between.

“Anytime,” he murmurs. And then he lets go.

The absence of him is immediate.

Y/N turns just in time to see Ava materialize, practically buzzing. She shoves a plastic cup into Y/N’s hand. Something cold and fruity.

“I could see the heat from across the square,” Ava grins. “You were practically glowing.”

“It was just a dance,” Y/N mutters, cheeks burning.

“Mmhmm. And I’m just your sister,” Ava says, sipping from her own drink. “You gonna pretend you didn’t like that?”

Y/N doesn’t answer. She just takes a long sip. Her lips still feel warm.

Then someone else approaches.

He’s cute in that polished, local, “still lives with his mom but has a good smile” kind of way. Button-up shirt. Fresh haircut. Hands in his pockets like he’s trying to play cool.

“Hey,” he says, looking straight at Y/N. “You wanna dance?”

Y/N blinks. She wasn’t expecting that. She opens her mouth to say no, gently, politely—

And then her eyes flick toward Cal.

He’s across the square again, leaning against a post, beer in hand. His head is turned toward a friend who’s talking to him—but his eyes?

Locked on her.

There’s no smirk. No playfulness. Just that deep, unreadable stare. His eyes say: I dare you.

And suddenly Y/N’s heart is in her throat.

It would be so easy to say no.

But then Ava nudges her hard in the side. “Go,” she whispers. “Don’t be weird. He’s cute.”

“I don’t—”

“Y/N. It’s one dance. Move your feet, Juliet.”

Y/N gives one last glance to Cal. Still watching. Still unreadable.

So she forces a smile, nods at the new guy, and lets him lead her back to the dance floor.

His hand is light on her back. He talks a lot. His cologne is too strong. His rhythm’s a little awkward. But none of that registers.

Because the whole time, she’s looking for Cal.

And when she finds him again, leaning back now, one boot crossed over the other, beer to his lips—he’s not smiling.

There’s a shadow in his expression now. A chill behind those hot dark eyes. Something possessive.

Something that says: You think I won’t take you back the second I want to?

And Y/N?

She feels it. All the way down.

The song drags on, too slow for how stiff the guy’s hands feel. Y/N shifts, trying to stay polite, but she’s hyper-aware—of his grip inching lower, of how he leans in a little too close to talk over the music.

And she can feel it.

Cal’s eyes. Somewhere behind her. Watching.

The guy chuckles nervously. “You uh… you new in town or just visiting?”

“Just here for my aunt,” she says softly, trying to shift her body without making it obvious. “She passed recently.”

“Oh. Damn. Sorry. That’s rough…”

His voice trails off because suddenly—Cal is there.

Standing just behind her dance partner. Silent. Still. And too close.

The guy turns mid-sentence, and freezes.

Cal’s not saying a word. He’s not even frowning. His expression is neutral—casual, even. But the energy is suffocating. He’s taller. Broader. And he’s looking at the guy like he already knows where to bury the body.

“Everything good?” Cal asks, voice calm. Smooth.

The guy swallows. “Y-Yeah. I was just—uh—just saying hi.”

Cal tilts his head. “That so?”

Y/N can feel the tension bleeding into her skin. It’s quiet, but deadly. Her partner takes a step back.

Then, as he’s turning to walk away, Cal does something only she sees:

A hand—flat, fast—pressed hard against the guy’s lower back. Not friendly. Not visible to the crowd. But the guy stumbles a little as he walks away, eyes wide. He doesn’t look back.

Y/N just stares.

Cal turns to her like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just threaten someone with a touch.

“You looked uncomfortable,” he says. No apology in it.

“I was fine.”

He raises a brow. “No. You weren’t.”

Before she can say anything else, Ava reappears—laughing too loud, flushed from dancing, holding a cup in each hand.

“Ohhh my God,” she slurs lightly. “Y/N, this DJ is playing Backstreet Boys. Get your ass over there, we’re time-traveling.”

She hands her a drink, clearly her second or third. Maybe fourth.

Y/N pulls it away. “Are you kidding me? I drove.”

“Pfft, so? I’ll crash at the house. You can stay for a bit—loosen up.”

“You’ve had way too much—”

“I’m fiiiiiine,” Ava purrs, then promptly disappears into the crowd again, drink sloshing.

Y/N stands there, tense, annoyed, her hand still holding a sweating plastic cup she didn’t ask for.

Then Cal leans in.

“Come on. Let me take you home.”

She looks at him. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His tone dips lower. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself tonight. Especially not with her like that.”

Y/N glances around—people laughing, drinking, dancing like they’ve got nowhere to be. She could stay. Could walk home. But her body’s already leaning toward him.

“Okay,” she says, voice quiet.

He doesn’t smile. Just nods once. Leads her to the truck.

Only… he doesn’t take her to her aunt’s house.

They pull out of town, passing familiar turns. Y/N watches the road, confused.

“This isn’t the way back,” she says.

“Nope.”

She tenses. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” he says, casually. “Closer. Safer.”

She turns to him. “You could’ve told me that.”

“I figured if you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t’ve gotten in the truck.”

And the worst part is—he’s right

The truck rumbles to a stop outside a modest, one-story house set back from the road. Wood-paneled, metal roof, gravel driveway. A garage off to the side, lights off now. Everything is quiet, too quiet—except for the buzz of crickets and the hum of electricity in the air.

Y/N steps out and follows Cal up the porch steps, her shoes crunching against the old wood. He unlocks the door with a heavy keyring, pushing it open without ceremony.

“Come in,” he says over his shoulder, already walking in like she belongs there.

She steps inside slowly. The air smells like cedar, motor oil, something masculine and woodsy. Not dirty—but lived in. The living room is all worn leather, flannel throws, a couple old records scattered near a player. Tools on the counter. A knife on the coffee table.

Y/N slips off her shoes at the door, barefoot against cool wood floors. She tucks her arms around herself.

It feels too quiet. Too intimate.

But Cal?

Cool as ice.

He tosses his keys into a bowl, heads into the kitchen like this is routine. Opens the fridge. “Want a beer?”

She hesitates. “…Sure.”

He tosses her one underhanded. She barely catches it.

He leans back against the counter, popping his own open. She cracks hers with a soft hiss and takes a small sip. Cold. Bitter.

“You always bring girls home this easy?” she asks, trying to mask her nerves.

He smirks. “You’re not easy.”

That shuts her up.

He watches her over the rim of his bottle. Eyes sharp. Curious.

“So,” he says slowly, “you ever been in love?”

The question punches the air out of her lungs.

She looks away. “What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one.”

“…Once. Maybe.”

He takes another drink. “You ever get your heart broken?”

She nods, slowly.

“Ever break someone else’s?”

“Probably,” she says. “But I didn’t mean to.”

He steps closer. Casual. Still holding his drink.

“You with anyone now?”

“No.”

He tilts his head. “How many people you been with?”

She bristles. “That’s private.”

“I know,” he says softly. “That’s why I’m asking.”

She exhales. “Three. That matter?”

His eyes flicker. Something dark. “No.”

A beat.

“…Fewer than me,” he admits. “But I haven’t touched anyone in a long time.”

She meets his eyes again. Something tight and breathless coils in her chest.

And then he’s closer. Inches.

He reaches up—slowly—and brushes a strand of hair from her face. His fingers trail down her jaw, calloused but gentle. Her breath hitches.

Their eyes lock.

Then his gaze drops—to her lips.

And he leans in.

The kiss is soft at first. Testing. Tasting. He’s careful. She’s frozen.

But then she exhales—and kisses him back. Her beer forgotten, she sets it down blindly on the counter, arms wrapping around his shoulders as if something inside her cracked open.

His hands slide down to her waist, grip tightening.

And in one smooth motion—he lifts her.

She gasps against his mouth, legs instinctively wrapping around his hips, arms around his neck. He walks, steady and sure, past the couch, down the short hall.

To the bedroom.

The door shuts behind them.

The door clicks shut behind him, soft but final. The room is dark except for a lamp in the corner, casting a golden glow across worn wood, thick sheets, and shadows dancing on the walls.

He doesn’t set her down.

He just presses her back against the door, their mouths crashing together again, hotter now. Less careful. His hands roam—strong, calloused palms dragging down her sides, gripping her thighs, squeezing her like he’s memorizing the shape of her.

Y/N whimpers when his teeth catch her bottom lip, tugging just enough to make her feel it. Her hips rock forward instinctively, and he groans against her mouth—low, rough, like he’s holding back something wild.

“Been thinkin’ about this,” he mutters against her neck, “since you walked into my garage in that damn sundress.”

His teeth find her throat—bite, not just a kiss—and she gasps, clinging tighter.

“You smell sweet,” he growls. “Soft little thing… I knew you’d melt in my hands.”

He walks them to the bed, tossing her down onto it like she weighs nothing. She hits the mattress with a soft gasp, hair spread around her like a halo—but her eyes? Glazed. Wanting. His.

Cal peels off his shirt, slow and deliberate, muscles rippling. She watches him like he’s carved from heat and sweat and sin.

Then he climbs over her, straddling her hips, fingers finding the hem of her dress.

“This pretty thing,” he murmurs, pushing it up inch by inch, “how wet are you in it right now, sweetheart?”

She squirms. Breathless. Embarrassed. Turned on.

His palm slides between her thighs—and when he presses his fingers to her panties, he growls low in his throat.

“Fuck. You’re soaked.”

Y/N whines as he rubs slow, steady circles over the fabric—teasing, never enough. His other hand slides under the dress, up her belly, to her bra.

“Can I mark you?” he asks, voice dark velvet. “Can I make you mine?”

She nods—barely a breath.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” she whispers.

He leans down—mouth hot on her collarbone, then her shoulder—then her breast. He bites. Sucks. Leaves a dark mark just above the lace edge. And another. And another.

She’s panting now, writhing beneath him.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growls against her skin. “No one else gets to touch you. Look at you. Think about you.”

His fingers slip beneath the soaked cotton of her panties—and she moans as he finally touches bare skin.

His fingers slide beneath her panties, slow and deliberate, until they find the slick heat between her thighs.

“Goddamn,” he growls, voice thick. “You’re dripping, baby.”

Y/N arches against him, mouth open, breath coming fast as his fingers stroke her—teasing, circling, dipping inside just to pull back out again. It’s maddening.

“Cal—” she gasps.

He cuts her off with another kiss—deep, hot, tongue sliding against hers while his thumb finds her clit and presses. She cries out into his mouth, and he grins against her lips.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Let me hear it.”

He pulls her panties off with one strong tug, rips the bra from under her dress with barely a flick of his wrist. She’s laid bare beneath him—flushed, panting, legs spread—and he just watches her for a beat, eyes drinking her in like he’s memorizing every inch.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters.

Then he’s on her again—mouth everywhere. Kissing down her chest, biting her soft skin, leaving dark bruises on her breasts, her ribs, her thighs. She writhes beneath him, hands tangled in his hair, moaning his name like a prayer.

When he slides two thick fingers inside her, she gasps—hips lifting off the mattress.

“Cal—oh my God—”

“You’re gonna come for me first,” he says roughly. “I’m not even getting inside you until you fall apart on my hand.”

He curls his fingers just right, rubbing deep, his thumb rolling over her clit with perfect pressure.

It doesn’t take long.

Y/N shatters with a cry, her back arching, her thighs clamping around his wrist. He keeps going, slow and steady, dragging it out, watching her tremble beneath him.

When she finally sags back against the bed, boneless and whimpering, he leans down and licks her slick off his fingers.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he growls.

Then he strips the rest of the way—jeans, boxers—and she sees him.

Big. Thick. Hard. Veins running down his shaft like sin carved into flesh.

Her breath catches. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He smirks. “Not tonight.”

He spreads her legs again, crawling between them, lining himself up. He pauses—just a moment—pressing the tip of his cock against her soaked entrance.

“You sure?” he murmurs.

“Please,” she whispers.

He thrusts into her in one slow, thick push—and they both moan. Deep, guttural. She clutches at his shoulders, gasping as he stretches her wide, fills her completely.

“Jesus, you feel good,” he groans into her neck. “Tight little pussy—fuck.”

He starts to move. Deep, slow strokes at first. His hips grind against hers, dragging delicious friction over her clit. Her nails dig into his back. She’s already close again.

Cal gets rougher. His hand wraps under her knee, pushing it up toward her chest. He drives into her harder, deeper, his breath hot against her ear.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasps.

He slams into her.

“Louder.”

“Yours, Cal—yours!”

That snaps something in him.

He fucks her like he’s claiming her—biting her shoulder, sucking marks into her throat, holding her down with one big hand against her belly while the other grips her throat just enough to make her feel it.

She comes again. Harder this time. Screaming his name.

He follows with a groan, hips stuttering, holding deep inside her as he spills hot and thick. His teeth sink into her collarbone as he rides out his orgasm, growling her name like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

Morning.

The sun’s peeking through dusty blinds. Y/N stirs beneath heavy covers, skin sore, marked, and still humming from the night before.

She’s in his shirt—massive, soft, hanging off one shoulder. She stretches, her thighs aching deliciously.

Cal’s already up. Shirtless, jeans half-buttoned, tugging on boots by the door.

He looks back when he hears her move—and grins.

“Sleep alright, sunshine?” His voice is low, teasing—but there’s a glint of something darker behind it. Possession.

She sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Barely. You didn’t exactly let me rest.”

He chuckles. “You didn’t complain.”

She blushes and looks away. “Where’s my dress?”

He walks over, leans down, one hand cupping the back of her head as he kisses her—slow, lingering, deep. Like he’s reminding her who put her in his bed.

Then he pulls back, eyes locked on hers.

“I’m takin’ you home,” he says. “But don’t think for a second you’re done with me.”

Y/N’s aunt’s house. Late morning. The sun is way too bright for someone who got absolutely destroyed the night before. Y/N slips through the front door barefoot, wearing her wrinkled sundress and Cal’s flannel jacket thrown over her shoulders.

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

She tries to creep past the living room, but Ava’s voice cuts through like a knife.

“Well, well, well,” Ava drawls from the couch, still in pajama shorts and an oversized tee, coffee mug in hand. “Look what the cat dragged home.”

Y/N groans. “Not now.”

“Oh no, we are absolutely doing this now.” Ava grins, propping her feet up. “Is that his flannel?”

Y/N glares. “I wasn’t gonna walk barefoot in my dress like a walk-of-shame fairytale character.”

“So you admit it was a walk of shame.”

She sighs, collapsing into the chair across from her. “Can you just—don’t make this worse.”

Ava sips her coffee with a sparkle in her eye. “Alright, alright, I’ll be chill… after one very important question.”

Y/N lifts a brow. “…What?”

Ava leans in, eyes wide, voice stage-whispers: “Please tell me you used a condom.”

Y/N covers her face with both hands. “Oh my God.”

A beat of silence.

Ava gasps. “Y/N.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You didn’t?!”

“He was—ugh, I don’t know, it just—happened!”

“Girl,” Ava groans, flopping back dramatically, “these small-town men are always raw-dogging. That’s why Mrs. Kellerman has seven kids and looks like she hasn’t slept since 1992.”

Y/N groans into her hands. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Oh, it is not. You got absolutely ruined by a hot mechanic. You’re glowing. I’m just making sure you’re not glowing with twins.”

“I’m going to scream.”

Ava smirks, clearly living for it. “You should at least get brunch out of it. Maybe a ring.”

Y/N throws a cushion at her. Ava catches it like a pro.

“Okay, okay, I’m done… for now.”

They sit in silence for a moment. Then Y/N, still curled up in flannel, mutters, “…Wanna do dinner tonight?”

Ava’s head tilts. “You cooking, or are we being classy with gas station wine and frozen pizza?”

“I’ll cook,” Y/N says, “if you promise not to bring up the phrase ‘raw dog’ ever again.”

“No promises,” Ava says with a smirk, “but I will bring dessert.”

That evening, dinner at the house.

Y/N cooks something simple but good—pasta, garlic bread, salad, wine. Ava "helps" by dancing around the kitchen to 2000s pop and drinking more wine than she pours into the glasses.

The front door creaks open. Y/N looks up—heart skipping—just in time to see Cal step inside. Clean jeans. Fitted henley. Beard freshly trimmed. His usual brooding energy wrapped up in something just charming enough to survive dinner with Ava.

Y/N hadn’t invited him.

Ava did.

He walks over, gives Y/N a once-over that makes her glow, and says, “Smells good.”

She mumbles a flustered thanks.

At the table, things are... chaotic.

Ava’s halfway through her second glass, going off about town gossip, weird neighbors, and Cal’s “grumpy hotness.” Y/N hides her face while Cal just eats like none of it phases him.

Then Ava leans in, wine-drunk and grinning. “So, Cal… you got a hot brother too, or are you the whole damn bloodline?”

Y/N nearly chokes on her drink.

Cal lifts a brow, lips twitching into the smallest smirk. “No brothers. But you couldn’t handle two of me.”

Ava cackles. “I don’t know, I’m pretty strong.”

He glances at Y/N, eyes sharp with heat. “You’d be surprised what you can or can’t handle.”

Y/N kicks him under the table. He doesn’t flinch.

Later, the dishes are stacked high in the sink. Y/N’s washing, humming quietly, trying to calm the storm still simmering in her chest. She hears Ava turn on the TV in the next room, half-tipsy and stretched out on the couch.

Cal moves beside her, grabbing a towel to dry.

“I could’ve done this tomorrow,” she murmurs, trying to focus on the water and not him. “You didn’t have to help.”

“You cook, I clean. Fair trade.”

She hands him a wet plate. He brushes her hand on purpose.

It happens again. And again.

Then—a shift.

She’s leaned slightly forward, reaching for a dish, when she feels it—

His cock.

Hard. Pressed right against her bottom. Just enough to feel the shape, the size, the intent. Not by accident.

Her body stiffens.

“Cal,” she says softly, warning in her voice.

But he doesn’t move away.

Instead, his hand slides around her waist. Slow. Sure. Then the other comes next, still damp from the towel.

He leans in close, breath hot against her ear.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about last night,” he murmurs.

Then, in one quick movement, he turns her—hands on her hips—and lifts her up onto the edge of the counter. Her legs fall open around him instinctively.

“Wait—” she gasps.

But his mouth is already on hers—hot, hungry, filthy. His hands slide under her dress, gripping her thighs, thumbs brushing the soft crease where her hips meet her core.

She moans, head tilting back, fingers tangled in his shirt.

His cock grinds against her through his jeans, slow and heavy.

“Cal,” she breathes, “we can’t—Ava’s right there.”

“She’s out,” he growls. “TV’s up. She won’t hear.”

He pulls his jeans down just enough—hard cock springing free—and pushes her panties aside.

He thrusts into her in one smooth stroke, hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the moan that rips from her throat.

“You missed this, didn’t you,” he grits out. “This pussy’s still fuckin’ wet for me.”

He pounds into her—rough, deep, making the whole counter shake. She claws at his back, biting her lip to stay silent.

When she comes, her body jerks—tight, shaking—clamping around him until he growls and follows, burying himself deep.

They breathe hard in the dark kitchen, the smell of soap and sex thick in the air.

She finally whispers, dazed and wrecked, “…Next time, wear a condom.”

He leans in, kisses the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then her lips.

“Sure,” he murmurs. “But I won’t promise I’ll stick to it.”

Time Skip: One Week Later

The lawyer is still dragging his feet.

Some "delay in the estate paperwork," whatever that means. Ava called it "small-town disorganization with a hint of secret conspiracy." Y/N didn’t laugh. Not really.

The house is half-packed now. The girls have boxes stacked in every room, bubble wrap everywhere, and half-finished coffee cups forgotten on windowsills. They’re ready to leave—ready to go back to the noise, the smog, the chaos of the city. Somewhere safe. Somewhere familiar.

But something keeps tugging at Y/N. A weight she can’t explain.

Maybe it’s the way Cal’s been showing up every day, like clockwork—dropping by with food, touching her lower back when Ava’s not looking, whispering things that keep her up at night. Or maybe it’s the silence in her aunt’s room—the room she’s been avoiding.

That Afternoon

Ava’s digging through the old cedar trunk at the end of Miriam’s bed, tossing out scarves, dusty photo albums, ancient candles.

Y/N’s in the hallway, boxing up books, when she hears:

“Uh… Y/N?”

Her sister’s voice sounds… weird.

Y/N walks into the room, wiping her hands on her shirt. “What?”

Ava’s holding something. A small leather-bound notebook, worn soft with age, and an envelope tucked inside.

The envelope says Y/N’s name. In her aunt’s handwriting.

“Where’d you find that?”

“Stuffed inside one of her old cookbooks,” Ava murmurs. “The one you were obsessed with when we were kids.”

Y/N takes the letter slowly. Her fingers tremble as she unfolds it.

The Letter

My sweet girl,

If you’re reading this, then I’m gone. I hope you’re okay. I hope you came with Ava, that you didn’t come back here alone. And I hope you’re safe.

There’s something you should know about Cal Walker.

He helped me fix this house after the divorce. He was kind. Quiet. A little too quiet. But I didn’t think anything of it at first. Until I started noticing… things.

Photos going missing. Your name coming up too often. Questions about your life in the city. About your job. Your routines. Your looks. At first, I thought it was protective.

But then I found the letters.

Old ones. From when you were still a teenager. Letters to me… about you. I kept them. They're in the trunk.

Y/N… he’s been watching you longer than you realize. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to scare you. I thought maybe he’d moved on.

But if he hasn’t—if he’s still around—you need to be careful. He doesn’t just want to protect you. He wants to own you.

Y/N’s hands are shaking. Her chest feels tight. Ava is staring at her, pale.

Y/N whispers, “Where are the letters?”

Ava opens the notebook.

Inside are three folded pages. Yellowed. Creased. And written in Cal’s handwriting.

Y/N's vision blurred with unshed tears. The weight of her aunt's words pressed heavily on her chest. Ava, sensing the gravity of the moment, placed a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder.

"We need to get out of here," Ava murmured, her voice laced with urgency. "Pack our things, leave tonight."

Y/N nodded slowly, the reality of the situation sinking in. "But what about the lawyer? The estate?"

"Screw the lawyer," Ava snapped. "Our safety comes first. My car's in good shape; we'll manage without the truck."

Determined, the sisters moved swiftly, gathering their belongings with a newfound urgency. As they packed, Y/N's mind raced, piecing together moments and interactions with Cal that now took on a more sinister hue.

Evening

The horizon was painted in shades of crimson and gold as Ava loaded the last of their bags into the trunk. Y/N took one final look at the house that had once been a sanctuary of childhood summers and family gatherings. Now, it felt like a cage, its walls whispering secrets she wished she'd never uncovered.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Y/N fastened her seatbelt, her hands clenched into fists. Ava started the engine, the car humming to life, ready to put miles between them and the shadows of the past.

As they pulled away, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes watching, a chill crawling down her spine. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: they were leaving Dodge, and there was no looking back.

Later That Night – Somewhere on the Road

The highway stretches out before them, long and dark, flanked by open fields and flickering street lamps. Ava drives with one hand on the wheel, music low. Her other hand holds a gas station coffee like it’s a lifeline.

Y/N is silent in the passenger seat, curled up with her knees drawn close. Her phone’s screen glows faintly in her lap—silent. Waiting.

She’s holding one of the letters.

The paper is soft, yellowed with age. The handwriting is unmistakably Cal’s—strong, deliberate, just a little rough around the edges.

The First Letter

Miriam, She came to visit again today. Y/N. She’s older now. Grown into herself. Beautiful. Not just in the way she looks, but the way she moves—like she doesn’t know how the world leans toward her without realizing it. Like the gravity around her is different.

She asked about my truck. Smiled when I showed her the rebuilt engine. That smile stuck in my head all night. It’s still there.

You said not to write about her. That I should let her be. But I can’t.

I’m not going to hurt her. I just want to protect her. Keep her safe. Keep her mine. And if she ever comes back here for good… I’ll be ready.

She doesn’t belong in the city. She belongs here. With me.

— Cal

Y/N’s stomach twists.

She flips to the next page.

The Second Letter

I saw a photo of her on your fridge. She cut her hair. She looked tired.

Does she know how beautiful she is when she’s tired? Does she know how much she needs someone to take care of her?

I don’t like the men she dates. I looked one of them up. Banker. Pretty boy. He wouldn’t know what to do with her. Wouldn’t know how to touch her, or how to make her feel safe. She needs someone strong. Someone who’s not afraid to take what’s his.

I’ve been fixing the spare room. Just in case.

She’d be happier here. Eventually, she’d see that.

Y/N’s hands shake.

There’s a third letter.

She doesn’t read it right away.

Because—her phone starts to buzz.

She looks down. CAL WALKER.

She lets it ring. Ignores it.

It rings again. And again. And again.

Her hand hovers. Ava glances over. “Is that him?”

Y/N nods silently.

“You better not answer that.”

“I won’t.”

The phone goes quiet.

Then—a text.

Where are you?

Then another.

Y/N.

Then another.

Answer me.

She doesn’t move.

But something inside her feels like it just snapped.

Highway. Still dark. Still nowhere.

The dashboard glows dimly. The hum of the road is the only sound until Ava speaks—sharp, low.

"He's not stopping, Y/N."

Y/N’s staring at the phone. More texts flood in:

You shouldn’t have left.

Come home.

It’s not safe out there.

Answer me or I’ll come find you.

Her breath shakes as she clutches the last letter—still unopened, folded tightly in her hand like it might bite her. Ava glances at it, then back to the road.

“That the worst one?” she asks.

Y/N nods, barely.

Ava jerks the wheel and pulls off the road into a gravel turnout, dust kicking up as the car rolls to a stop under a blinking gas station sign long out of service.

“We’re reading it,” she says. “Right now. You need to see what else he’s hiding before he shows up on the fucking road.”

Y/N hesitates.

Then unfolds the letter with trembling fingers.

The Third Letter

I watched her from across the street today.

Not close. Just... enough.

She had no idea I was there. But I know her patterns. How she walks. When she stops to tie her shoe. When she takes that dumb little sketchbook out at the café. People walk right past her like she’s just another girl.

They don’t see her. Not like I do.

She belongs to me, Miriam.

And if she ever comes back here, I won’t make the mistake of letting her go again. I’ll be gentle. At first. She’ll understand, eventually. She’ll be grateful.

Because no one will ever love her like I do.

Y/N covers her mouth with a shaking hand.

Ava’s face goes pale.

“Oh my God. He’s been stalking you for years.”

Y/N nods, heart hammering.

Her phone buzzes again.

A new message.

You really think you can leave?

She drops the phone like it burned her.

Another buzz.

You’re mine, sweetheart. You don’t walk away from me.

“Fuck this,” Ava mutters, throwing the car into drive. “We’re going straight to the city. No stops. We’ll find a motel later, lock ourselves in, get new phones, whatever it takes.”

“Do you think he’s following us?” Y/N whispers.

“I don’t know,” Ava says tightly. “But if he is, we’re gonna make it real hard for him to catch up.”

Y/N stares out the window, heart pounding, letters clutched to her chest.

But in her gut?

She feels it.

That cold, crawling certainty.

Cal knows exactly where they are.

3:02 AM – Ava’s Apartment, Chicago

The city’s quiet in that eerie way it only gets when the night is almost over. When everything’s still except the occasional whoosh of a late cab or the hum of the fridge.

Y/N stands in the doorway of Ava’s guest room, arms wrapped tight around herself, still wearing the same clothes from the road. Her hair’s messy. Skin clammy. Her eyes look hollow under the yellow streetlight pouring through the blinds.

Ava’s already sprawled across her bed, phone on the nightstand, shoes kicked off. She hasn’t said a word in twenty minutes. Just… breathing, watching the ceiling. One hand still gripping her keys.

Neither of them really slept on the way back. They took turns behind the wheel, taking corners like they were being followed. Because maybe they were. Or maybe fear just made it feel that way.

Y/N lowers herself onto the bed slowly, like her bones aren’t hers anymore. She curls up in one of Ava’s oversized hoodies, but she’s cold.

She closes her eyes.

And he’s there.

Not in the room. In her mind.

Cal. Between her legs. Whispering in her ear. Biting her skin like it was his. The way he looked at her like he already owned her. That first slow kiss in the kitchen. His hands gripping her thighs, her throat, her hips. The sound of him growling her name when he came inside her—raw, deep, and shameless.

The way she wanted it.

The way she let him.

Y/N sits up suddenly, choking on her own breath.

Ava stirs. “Hey—hey. You okay?”

“No.” Her voice is barely there. “He touched me like he knew me. Like he always had. And I let him. I let him take me like I was already his.”

Ava’s eyes soften. She sits up too, wrapping an arm around her.

“You didn’t know,” she says firmly. “You didn’t have all the pieces. He played you, Y/N.”

“I liked it,” Y/N whispers, tears building. “That’s the worst part.”

“Liking something doesn’t make you responsible for someone else’s manipulation. He hid this from you. He hunted you.”

Y/N shudders, curling into Ava’s side.

“But what if he comes here?”

Ava tightens her grip. “Then we call the cops. We change your number. We tell everyone. We don’t let him take another inch.”

Silence.

Then Y/N, barely audible: “I don’t think he wants just inches. I think he wants all of me.”

Her phone buzzes.

She forgot to silence it. The name on the screen?

No Caller ID.

Y/N doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move.

But the screen stays lit until the glow fades to black.

A Few Days Later

Ava didn’t waste time. By noon the next day, she was on the phone with a detective friend—Detective Reyna Cruz. Blunt, sharp, all business. Within hours, Cruz was at the apartment, taking statements, reading the letters, staring at Cal’s name like she already knew trouble when she saw it.

“He’s got no criminal record,” Cruz said as she flipped through her notepad. “But that doesn’t mean he’s clean. Men like him—quiet, helpful, devoted—they know how to hide obsession in plain sight.”

They filed a restraining order. It wouldn’t hold forever, not if he stayed quiet, not unless he did something big. But it was a start.

Ava changed the locks.

Y/N changed her number.

They bought cameras, set up alerts, and even took turns sleeping on the couch.

But no knocks. No shadow in the hall. No Cal.

Not yet.

Weeks Pass

The days stretch out soft and uneventful.

Y/N returns to her art, to her job, to the comforting noise of the city. She drinks her old coffee. Takes the train again. Falls back into the rhythm of anonymity—where strangers don’t stare too long, and no one looks at her like they know what she looks like when she cries.

She even begins going out alone. Not far. Just enough to breathe.

She’s working again. She’s smiling again. She goes to lunch with Ava, texts old friends, reorganizes her kitchen, listens to music too loud.

The nightmares come less often.

The bruises faded.

Sometimes, she thinks about the way Cal kissed her, and she hates herself for remembering it fondly. Sometimes she wonders if it was all fake—or if part of him really thought it was love.

But Then…

The first weird text comes at 1:47 AM.

No number. Just a message:

Still taste you on my tongue.

She blocks it.

Two days later, a call from a random number. No voicemail. Just silence when she answers. Like someone breathing too softly.

She brushes it off.

Then a text, later that week:

You looked pretty in that sweater. The gray one.

She hasn’t worn that sweater since yesterday.

Her throat tightens.

She wants to believe it’s just paranoia. That she’s overreacting.

But when she turns her head at the coffee shop window, just for a second, she sees a man across the street.

He’s leaning against a post. Not moving. Not on his phone.

Just watching.

And when she blinks, he’s gone.

The Next Morning

Y/N stares at the message on her phone again:

You looked pretty in that sweater.

She hadn’t worn it in a photo. Not recently. Not publicly.

But she scrolls through her old posts anyway. Tries to find one where maybe—maybe—she had the same one on. Months ago. Years ago. Something to explain it.

She finds one. Over a year old. Same sweater. Her face is barely visible in the selfie, mostly coffee and a croissant. But it’s enough.

“That’s it,” she tells herself. “He’s just online. He’s not here.”

But she doesn’t believe it.

Still, she says nothing to Ava.

That Afternoon – The “Date”

It’s not even a real date.

Just coffee with Jordan—a coworker from her freelance team. Friendly, harmless, a little flirty, but nothing serious. He’d been helping her on a project, and this was just their first time meeting in person.

They laugh over overpriced lattes. Jordan leans in when he talks. Compliments her hair. Offers to walk her home after.

Y/N says no. Politely.

But her smile lingers longer than it should.

She doesn't know across the street, under the shadows of an old alley awning, Cal is watching.

Cal, in the Dark

He sees her laugh. He sees the way she touches her necklace when she’s nervous. He sees the man—sitting too close, saying too much, looking at her like he has the right.

That’s his girl.

He fed her. Held her. Fucked her. He marked her body with his teeth and name. She was soft in his bed. She moaned for him.

Now she’s pretending none of that happened?

Worse—she’s replacing him?

His fists clench in his jacket pockets. His jaw ticks. His chest feels like it’s going to split open.

She needs reminding. She’s not free. She never was.

That Night – 1:11 AM

Y/N’s apartment is quiet. Ava’s out of town for a weekend conference. Y/N double-checked the locks. She lit a candle. Turned on soft music. Her favorite movie plays low in the background as she lays on the couch, trying to unwind.

She feels proud. Confident again. Even… maybe ready.

She doesn’t notice the unlocked window. The one in the bathroom, barely cracked from earlier when she aired it out after a shower.

She brushes her teeth. Rinses her face. Slips into an old tee and cotton shorts. Her phone is already charging.

She turns off the light.

She climbs into bed.

Pulls the blankets over herself and exhales.

Then— a hand. Over her mouth. From behind.

She screams, but it’s muffled. Her body is dragged back, strong arms locking around her, one around her waist, the other pressing tight to her mouth.

“Shhh,” a voice growls into her ear. Low. Familiar. Final.

Cal.

“You’ve been very, very bad, sweetheart.”

Her scream dies under his hand—rough, calloused, clamped over her mouth with the same hands that once stroked her hair and held her waist during slow dances. Only now they don’t feel safe.

They feel like iron.

Y/N thrashes wildly, kicking, scratching, bucking—but his body doesn’t move. He’s solid. A wall of muscle and heat. She can feel his thigh pinning her down—hard, heavy, and wide as her hips. His breath fans over her ear, hungry and dark.

“Did you miss me?” he whispers, lips brushing her cheek. “’Cause I missed everything about you.”

She writhes harder, screams again, but he only tightens his grip—arm clamped around her middle like a belt.

“Shhh,” he growls, lowering them both to the bed, pinning her beneath his weight. “You’ve been out there pretending. Playing house. Laughing with other men. But that’s not you, is it?”

He nuzzles against her neck, inhaling her like a memory.

“No,” he murmurs, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. “That’s not my girl.”

Y/N spits under his hand, jerks her head violently, but he catches her chin and forces her still.

“God, you’re so difficult when you’re scared,” he growls, his body pressing tighter to hers—hips locking hers in place. “But I like that. I do. Makes it more fun when you give in.”

His thigh grinds between hers and she sobs into his hand, trying to twist out from under him. Her nails rake his skin. Her legs kick, desperate.

He grunts when she lands a hit, but it only fuels him.

“You’re still soft under all that fight,” he mutters, his hand sliding low over her stomach. “Still mine. Still mine.”

She shakes her head violently, tears spilling.

His lips ghost her ear. “Shhh. I’ll be gentle, baby. I’ll remind you how good I make you feel. You remember, don’t you? You remember how I stretched you open and made you beg. You’re already wet for me—”

“NO!” she screams under his hand, thrashing so hard she almost breaks free—

But he snaps.

Suddenly his palm leaves her mouth, and she gets half a cry out before his hand slams down again—across her face.

Her vision flares.

She gasps—shock, pain—and then—

Darkness.

Later – Somewhere Else

She comes to slowly.

The air is colder. Rougher. It smells like sawdust and oil.

She’s lying on something soft but unfamiliar.

Blankets. A cot?

Her wrists are tied in front of her with something thick—shop rags. Her legs are free. For now.

And when her eyes finally adjust—

She sees him.

Cal. Sitting in a chair across from her, watching.

His elbows rest on his knees, forearms flexed, hands still streaked faintly with grease. His eyes are calm—but underneath? Something wild.

He smiles, almost tenderly.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “Home.”

#yandere #fantasy #x reader #tw noncon #dark fantasy #sfw noncom #dark romance #power dynamics #age g4p #breeding k1nk #twistedheartsclub #tw kidnapping #old town #car mechanic

89 notes · View notes

obsessedwrhys · 11 months ago

Text

THE PAIN OF PRETENDING

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Where your relationship with Abby is hidden because of your religious parents. Heartbreaking angst, some fluff, mention of intimacy but no doing it, religious things (reader's religion is not specified dw), homophobia, reader has religious trauma (only real ones know 😔), this could be triggering for some, reader has mommy issues/ is a mommy's girl, reader will go through character growth (whoop whoop!!). reader is fem!!!

ᯓ★

How you found yourself curled up on the sofa was perpetual. Same frown, same feeling. It just seems like the cycle never ends. You wonder how many more days can you tolerate this pattern of lifestyle.

This lifestyle of living in fear.

Soon you snap out of your worries once you hear the door open. The person you've been waiting for finally coming in.

"Hey babe" Your girlfriend, Abby flashes you a sweet smile. You don't say anything but watch as she puts away her bag, then taking off the rest of her equipments and placing it on the table.

"How did it go with your parents?" She asks. The very topic you were hoping she would have forgotten about after a day of patrol.

"... oh... you know..." You chuckle anxiously but almost instantly she knew something was off by your tone. She's dated you long enough to know when you're tensed.

She approaches you and every step she took was making you even more nervous. Once she was close enough, she kneels down in front of you with her hand placed gently on your lap. Her palm grasping your thigh.

"You did talk to them right? About us?" She asks, the way she's talking so softly to you was making the guilt swallowing you whole.

Because of that, you chose to stay quiet.

Seeing your lack of an answer, she sighs with her other hand pinching the bridge of her nose. Almost like an attempt to convince herself to be patient with you.

"Did you or did you not?" She looks up at you and your hands couldn't help but scratch at each other due to the nerves getting to you.

"... I didn't..." You finally said. She looks at you, a mix of disappointment and empathy on her face.

Maybe if this was the first time she'd forgive you.

But it's been a year that you've been trying to come out to your parents.

It's like everytime you gain the courage to confront them about it. Their faces always made you feel so small.

"You promised me you would (Y/N)..." She said and you could tell from her reaction that she was also getting tired of this.

Tired of having to pretend.

Pretending like she doesn't wanna kiss you in public.

To hold you.

To show everyone that you're hers and she's yours.

Yet she can only be known as your friend.

"I know... but they were just so happy about reaching the goal of the fundraiser and I didn't want to ruin that moment for them"

"What about you? Do you not want to be happy??"

"That's different"

"How is that different? Are you happy constantly having to deal with your parents setting you up with guys you don't even like? Or do you actually like that shit??"

"Of course not!!"

"Then just tell them!"

"It's not that fucking easy Abby! They have people that look up to their teachings. Do you have any idea the amount of damage I could do to their lifetime of work?"

"We live in a world with flesh eating zombies. I'm sure they'll survive having their reputation tainted for having a gay daughter" She gets up and you stare at her standing form. Somehow her perspective of the situation made you feel better.

You look down at your pendant, the one your parents had gifted you since you were a child. You still remember the very words they've swore to you, to always have your soul be on the right path in life.

"I'm sorry" You apologised and she turns to look at you. It pained her to see yourself looking like a wounded dog. She let's out a defeated sigh while she reaches to rub both your arms soothingly.

"Let's deal with this tomorrow... hm?" She then leaned in to nuzzle her face into the crook of your neck as she slowly pushes you down on the sofa.

You didn't notice you were smiling when Abby made herself comfortable on top of you. Her arms wrapped securely around your waist and you couldn't resist but run your fingers across her biceps. She hums at the delicacy of your touch.

"I'm so sorry..." You muttered.

"Tomorrow... please..." She lifts up her head and got inches closer to you until she's kissing you on the lips.

Just like that, the next day came. Since you had nothing to do that day, you decided to spend some time with Abby. Which is how you found yourself playing at the field inside the headquarters. You laughed as you took the frisbee from Alice's mouth before throwing it again. Abby was simply sitting on the grass a feet away, her face full of adoration as she watches you play.

Just seeing you smile was enough to brighten up her mood.

The feeling always felt so magical.

"Wowow— calm down girl" You chuckled when Alice nearly knocked you off balance when asking for more head pats. After giving her her deserved pats, you threw the frisbee and she ran after it without hesitation.

You watched her go with a smile on your face and soon your eyes trailed to where Abby is rested but you've already caught her staring first. You had to admit, you felt both embarrassed and cocky when you saw the way she was looking at you.

"Is my hair bad or something?" You asked but she simply tilt her head with a humoured smirk.

"Your hair can be a total mess and you'd still look like a model on the cover of a magazine" She said and her flattery made you snort.

"Liar"

"Oh? You want me to prove it to you?" She chuckles mischievously as she began approaching you and the sight of her coming after you made your first instincts to run.

"ATTACK HER ALICE!!" You ordered but Alice was too busy chewing on the toy to even care.

Damn dog.

"STOP IT ABBY!!"

"C'mere!"

Soon you found yourself cornered and you let out an annoyed whine while she couldn't help but laugh at your dismay. Once you were trapped, she stepped closer to shorten the distance between you two.

Eventually the pout on your face was gone the second she enveloped you in her arms, you chuckled uncontrollably at the touch of her lips smooching your collarbone slowly up to your jaw. You smiled when she gently grabbed you by the chin to have you face her.

"I don't think I say this enough but I love you. I mean it" She caresses your cheek and you didn't know how to respond but to kiss her.

It was a gentle kiss at first, tender and tentative, as if she was treating you like you were fragile glass. But soon the sweetness of the kiss transcended to something desperate. Her hand moving down to your waist to pull you closer than you were. Her forceful act made you yelp as your hands fell to the back of her neck.

"Fuck..." She sighs, her eyes half lidded from the heat of the moment.

"Are you sure she's out here?" What felt like a thunder struck. You immediately part away from Abby's grip when the sound of your mother's voice could be heard from afar.

"Yeah, I saw her leaving with Abs just now... Well, there she is" Nora stands with her hand on her hip as your mother's face lit up at the sight of you.

"Oh there's my sunshine!"

"Hey mom..." You greeted her back.

You were too focused on trying to act normal that you failed to realise the discomfort in Abby's eyes as she awkwardly rubs her neck, but she soon covers it up with a forced smile when your mother turned to greet her.

"And Abby! It's good to see you!"

"Haha... sure is auntie"

"Well I hope you don't mind if I steal my little sunshine from you. I need her to help me set up tonight's celebration. We managed to raise up enough resources to build our very own temple to worship. Oh! You should definitely come! Dinner will be delicious" Your mother said while waving at you to stand at her side... and you did just that. It was like she had this power over you.

You might as well be her puppet on a string.

"Sure, I don't really have anything to do" Abby responded but the smile on her face fades a bit when she turned to look at you.

Your brows were slightly narrowed as you had your head lowered. Just seconds ago you were both kissing and now she felt like a total stranger to you. But how could she blame you? You never wanted any of this.

"Oh you're such a sweet girl and a good friend to my daughter. If only you weren't so bulk you'd find yourself a fine man who'd take care of you" Your mother said and it took every muscle in Abby's body not to react to her words.

"Hm... yeah" Abby replied. Her jaw clenches as she grinds her teeth to try to ease the burn in her chest.

"Well let's go, we have a lot to prepare" Your mother shoos you and you shoot Abby an apologetic look before getting dragged away.

The moment you were gone, she let's out a sigh while running her hands across her face and then letting it rest there. Her eyes were completely shut in order to put her entire focus on not being upset at you or anyone.

"You cool?" Nora spoke up but Abby didn't bother looking at her.

"Uh-huh" Abby replied with her voice muffled from her hands covering her face.

It was soon the night of the celebration. Pretty much everyone was invited to it. You were dressed formally and forced to greet every guest. It just seems like to your parents that having a child also means having a servant. You were greeting people until someone caught your eye.

A wave of relief washed over you when you saw Abby approaching you and also being the last guest you'll have to say hi to for the night. She smiles when she sees your face finally easing up at the sight of her.

"Tired of playing the perfect daughter?" She jokes and you smack her playfully on the chest.

"Shut up.." You said and just as she's gonna wrap her hands around your waist. You stepped back, nodding at the crowd not far away.

It's not that anyone really cared if someone was gay.

It was more like if YOU were gay.

Because you can bet your ass that they'll come running to your parents to spread the hot gossip. It's like they have everyone as their pal and gals here.

"Right... can you show me where the food is? I'm starving" She said.

Cue to the both of you now in the kitchen where you're standing with your plate in hand. This might be the only time you get some privacy together.

"Mmm~" Abby hums as she happily ate the food. You chuckled when you saw how much she was enjoying herself.

"I'm starting to think you came to the celebration for the food"

"Isn't that the point of celebrations? To celebrate?" She looks at you while still munching on the chicken meat. You shake your head with a laugh.

"I forgot to say, your parents really made you look like eye candy" She said pointing out the dress you had on you. You look away feeling a bit embarrassed. This wasn't really your style but you didn't have much of a say in it.

"They're still trying to find me a 'boyfriend' so it's expected" You said as you began stabbing at your chicken with the fork. Abby notices and she had to admit it was painful to hear those words from your mouth. As a matter of fact, it was beginning to make her feel uneasy.

"But... I'm your boyfriend right?" She said and you laughed thinking she was joking but when you looked up and saw the seriousness in her eyes. The smile on your face dropped instantly.

"Oh... of course. This is what they want, not me. To be honest I really want to sneak off to my room right now" You said but you knew the lecture that would come if you did.

It's either gonna be words like "You're the host's daughter so go be a host!" Or "Why are you hiding in your room instead of socialising with people!" Honestly you can't choose.

"Then let's go... there's nobody stopping you" She said and you could see the mischief in her eyes. Guilty enough you grinned.

"Fine but if we get caught I'm gonna jump out the window"

Now you're in your room, the two of you laying down as you decided to cuddle. Honestly at this point you might fall asleep from how relaxing it felt. Your lips formed a smile when you could feel Abby running her hands through your hair or just touching it in general.

"You're gorgeous..." She uttered and from her tone you can hear the genuine love she had for you. If you asked her to take on a whole pack of infected she'll literally do it.

She'll do anything for you and yet...

You can't even do the same.

You can't even tell your parents that you're in love with her...

You're too much of a pussy to do it.

"You alright?" Abby rubs her thumb on your hand that you didn't realise was clenched into a fist. You quickly loosen your grip once you did.

"Sorry I was thinking" You said.

"About?" She looks at you, waiting for your answer that took you a while to give to her.

"I just feel awful that I keep leaving you in the dark with things... I'm too afraid of how my parents will react if I told them I was dating a girl" You said, nuzzling closer into her embrace. She hums in acknowledgement as she cups the side of your face.

"I'm pretty sure they'll freak out more about the fact I'm so muscular. Your dad can't even look me in the eye"

"I..." You stare at her, speechless.

She must have taken what your mother said to heart.

Fuck if you didn't realise you were hurting her, you were hurting her even more by letting this go on.

"I'm so sorry Abs"

"Shhh... it doesn't matter. I'll endure all of this, anything it takes to finally have my happy ending with you" She smiles softly down at you.

You really don't deserve her...

Suddenly there's a knock on the door and the sound itself was enough to have you both jump out of your bed in a hurry. Quickly you checked your reflection on the mirror to fix your appearance while Abby went to find something to busy herself with. The knock on the door continues, growing louder each time until you finally open it, finding your father at the door.

"Hey dad" You said, forcing the most genuine smile you could.

He doesn't say anything but stare at Abby who's back is turned to you, her focus on the collection of toys you've collected. He stared at her for an unsettling long 10 seconds before looking back at you, a faint smile on his face.

"Your mother and I want you to meet someone" He said and you tilt your head.

"Oh? Uh okay..." You responded and it took every strength in your body not to turn around to look at Abby as you're forced to leave your room.

Alone in your bedroom, Abby let out a long sigh as she rests both her palms on the table. Her eyes shut close after the close call. Moments like these seem to never get old.

It always leaves her feeling tensed each time.

After a minute, she was done calming herself down, she hopped herself off the table. But before she left, she walked near the window that had a whole view of the backyard. The same unsettling feeling she had earlier in the kitchen slowly crawled it's way back into her chest as she caught glimpses of you talking to a boy, both of your parents standing by your sides.

It wasn't the fact that you talking to a boy was irritating her, but the sight of you smiling and LAUGHING. That was what settled the score.

Without even realising, she began breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Is she childish for feeling like this? Being jealous? She can't even flirt with you in public and this guy who you just knew for a minute is now trying to hook up with you, in front of your fucking parents!!

Fed up and needing to get away from all of this, she left your room while making sure to slam the door shut. Several guests looking at her in concern when she made her way through.

After what felt like hours of chatting with people, you began to feel your face hurt from the constant talking and smiling. So the second the party was over, you were glad to have the privilege to change back into your normal clothes. To be honest the itch of the dress was killing you the entire night.

You laid on your bed and it was then you realised you haven't seen Abby ever since. Maybe she left early? Even if she did, you still felt bad for leaving her at that state. She must have felt so alone. You hurt just by the thought of it so you grabbed your stuff, being as quiet as possible when sneaking out.

It's not your first time sneaking out so it wasn't that hard.

After all, strict parents always raised the most rebellious kids.

By the time you were done sneaking past several people and making it to Abby's room, you knocked it a few times and waited for her to answer but she doesn't. Confused, you knocked again but before your fist could make contact with the door. It opened. You froze as you looked to see Abby staring at you, her brows were narrowed and the way she glared at you, you could tell she was pissed off.

It actually made you feel upset.

You don't know exactly what you did wrong but you just knew that you did.

That was until you noticed the dried tears in the corner of her eyes.

"Have you been—?" You hesitantly point at her eyes and for a glimpse second, her eyes widened but she was quick to rub her eye and cover it up.

"It's an itch.... What the hell are you doing here?" She said, quickly changing the topic.

"I wanted to see you" You smiled a bit, not sure if this is even the right time to act all affectionate and sweet.

"Oh..." Her tone was almost like she was mocking you. She then looked down the hallway left and right before letting you in.

While Abby closed the door, you felt uncomfortable being in the room. It wasn't the same comfort you would feel after a whole day of pretending to be the perfect daughter. Somehow it just drained you the very same. You looked at Abby when you heard her sit down on her bed, not caring the least about your presence.

Yeah there's definitely something going on.

And you're not the type to beat around the bush for it.

"Did I do something wrong?" You asked, straight to the point. She doesn't look up at you but her grip around her book tightened vaguely.

"I don't know. Did you?" She asks.

Oh great... she's in her mood again...

"If you're mad at me for leaving you in my room. I'm sorry... but that's the reason why I'm here, to make it up to you" You looked at her, hoping she would give you the basic respect of LOOKING at you when talking.

"Mhm..." She responded.

Fuck... it feels like your head is about to explode.

"Can you fucking talk to me instead of doing that whole shit? I fucking hate it when you do that"

"Then don't talk to me" She looks at you, finally.

You stare back at her with a look of disbelief before letting out a scoff as you roll your eyes.

"The door's that way" She pointed and that was the last straw.

"Don't— Don't you fucking treat me like that!" You raised your voice and she chuckles amusingly to herself.

"What? Did your boyfriend at the party treat you better?" She said, her words left you startled.

"What the fuck?" You blurted out.

Is that what she's so pissed about?

"Is that what you're mad at me for?" Suddenly it was like a whole new rage washed over your face. It didn't make it better with a storm brewing just outside.

"He's my FUCKING COUSIN YOU IGNORANT PIECE OF SHIT!! HE TRAVELLED ALL THE WAY FROM SPOKANE TO GET HERE!!" You yelled that you could feel your face burn up completely.

"And you expect me to just take your word for it?" She got up, standing in front of you.

"I'm starting to think you don't want to come out!! You love the attention don't you?!! DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME?!! Or am I just one of your experiments??"

"Of course I do!! I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!"

"But??? I fucking yearn for you (Y/N)!! Every fucking second I'm with you in public. I can't even hold you or kiss you!! Do you know how much it sucks being treated like I'm nothing to you?!!" She said and you could see the tears pour out of her eyes.

"If you love me then why do you still let this shit go on? Are you more scared of losing your image or me? You pick" She returned to her bed, her head lowered as she doesn't want you to look at her crying.

You stare at her, unable to make up the right mind. Suddenly a thunder struck and rain began to pour down heavily. You sigh.

There's no way that a bunch of infected is easier dealt with than this right now.

Your mom's gonna kill you...

"...I'll talk to them tomorrow" You said and she looks at you. Honestly now you're just standing in the middle of the room not sure whether if you should join her in bed after that heated argument.

"C'mere" She said, her arms spread and you stare at her... before completely breaking into tears. You walk over to her which she doesn't waste a second to hold you close.

You placed kisses on her cheek as you muttered the word 'sorry' over and over again. Even when she shakes her head telling you it's fine, you simply ignored her and placed your head on top of hers as you continued on apologising.

Not just for this moment now but for every other time you've made broken promises to her.

It was the next day, all the crying last night left you completely numb. You've never felt like such a piece of shit before. Seeing how Abby is still asleep, you decided not to wake her up and just go wash yourself up. Once you were done, you grabbed your stuff and tried to be as quiet as possible when leaving.

Your parents usually volunteer at the stadium's canteen early in the morning so there's no denying that they're already there. Watching your steps as you got down the stairs, you turned a few corners and walked a few more before making it there.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Manny greeted you and you greeted him back.

"You've seen my parents?"

"Yup, they're just in there" He pointed and you made sure to thank him before going ahead. When entering the backdoor to the stall, you could see them busy restocking the supplies.

The moment they spot you, you could tell they were upset.

"Where were you?!! You weren't in your room in the morning!!" Your mother expressed her concern.

"I wanted to go gun training" You lied so naturally that it caught you by surprise. You sucked in both your lips to try to stop yourself from doing so.

"Nonsense, you're a girl, that's a man's job" Your mother said while your father carried the boxes to the table. You took a deep breath.

"Sorry I lied... I was at Abby's" The two perked up at the mention of Abby's name.

"Abby's? What were you doing there?" They suddenly exchanged glances. It's almost too obvious that the two doesn't quite like her too much. Then your father spoke up right after your mother.

"No offense darling but Abby's a rebellious girl and we don't want you following in her footsteps—"

"We kissed" You said, an unmoved expression on your face.

For a second you had thought the two were frozen in time at your words but suddenly your mother laughs.

"Are you messing with us?" She asked but you could see from her gaze she was threatening you to shut up.

For some reason you didn't really care anymore.

"We also fucked... and I really liked it" You said as you watched for their reactions. You knew that deep down that they'll never accept you for the way you are but it's fine. They never really did even when you weren't yourself.

Your mother laughs again but this time louder, almost like she's losing it. Your father who didn't know how to react laughed along to her but his wary eyes weren't in his favour.

"I thought from the lessons our uncle taught you you'd stop having these thoughts! I knew I shouldn't have let you read those comics!" She said with a smile, almost like she's forcing herself to be happy, to stay calm.

"It didn't help. I lied saying it did because I didn't want to go back there. They treated me weird. They made me feel like I didn't belong anywhere, that I was a mistake, that I should have hated myself for having these thoughts" You then smiled, returning the same emotion your mother is feeling.

"But truthfully I love girls"

SLAP

Your eyes widened after feeling your mother slap you, it happened so fast if it werent for the burning numbness on your cheek you didn't think it even happened. You slowly turn to look at your mother who's eyes are red.

"Don't you fucking say that! You're a girl! You were born to marry a man!" She said but you shrug. Your action made her tilt her head in disbelief.

"I love Abby, she's a woman not a man. If you don't like that then that's your problem" With nothing more to prove, you decided to leave but stopped yourself when you were close to the door.

"Oh and... it had nothing to do with the comics. I've always felt this way" You added with your back turned to her. The second you were out in the canteen you couldn't help but stop for a second to catch your breath.

It actually felt like you were breathing right for the first time ever.

It felt so good.

You felt so weightless.

"(Y/N)? You okay?" You look up ahead to see Abby. Her hair a bit messy from just waking up but you could tell she just smoothed it over to make it work.

"I'm so fucking great" You approached her and threw your arms around her but she was fast to observe the hand print on your face. Her face clearly full of worry.

"Who did this to you?" Her tone clearly indicating she's not gonna let this slide.

"It's my mom. I just came out to them" You smiled and she looked at you like you were kidding.

"Without me? I thought you'd want me to support you—?"

"Its fine— but you can support me now. I'm starving" You smiled and seeing how overjoyed you are, she couldn't help but let you have your moment. Not wanting to disrupt this euphoric memory of yours.

"Alright baby" She said before gently kissing you on the lips and you smiled when kissing her back. An obstacle in your life finally dealt with.

Tags:

@bready101

341 notes · View notes