#Glass and Repulsive are for

[iggydabirdkid]

So I was tagged by @just-a-tiny-goldfish ​ to do this WIP word tag thing with the words ‘ Cloudy Sparkle Glass Repulsive’ And I gotta be honest. I don’t actually have any WIP’s, I just write stuff as it comes to me 😅 But! I have a bunch of things I’ve been meaning to write so it was a good excuse to do so!

Some of the snippets below I may expand on at some point. Some are just for funsies. I will put it under a keep reading, as its kinda long  😅

+++++

Cloudy

When you wake she’s not in the bed beside you. You sigh and throw the covers from your body, sitting up and swinging your legs round to hang off the side of the bed before you hop to the floor. You stumble as you head to the door, still not quite use to the rocking of a ship but you know you will with time. You’re greeted by the dark of night as you emerge from your quarters. A few crew are wandering about the deck below, drunk and shouting, laughing pushing each other about. She won’t be among them, not tonight. In fact when you squint you can just make her out on the other end of the ship, standing on the tip of the bowsprit her resting against the jib topsail, her form illuminated by the moonlight. You smile as you make your way down the stairs. She’s the reason you know the correct terms for every part of her ship, hungry for knowledge as you are. She’d taught you a lot about how to be free and in turn you had given her your heart, even thought she still kept parts of hers locked away.

She denied it whenever you brought it up but you knew. You just wish that she would tell you what was bothering her so you could help. You cherish the feeling of the ocean breeze and the salt spray upon your face as you climb the stairs to the bow and when you reach the top you approach her, watching her dark hair flow in the breeze.

“Val?” you call out and ahead of you she startles, hand momentarily gripping the sail tighter before she twists to meet your eye.

-----

“Annabelle.” She smiles as she says your name, dark eyes shining but you catch the wrinkle on her brow and the nervous flicker of her ears. You hold an arm out towards her and you watch as she deftly makes her way towards you, all confidence, no hint of fear of walking into the waters below. Not that she would of course.

She takes your hand as she steps down besides you and she loops an arm around your shoulders as she returns her gaze to the sky. You watch her face, watch as her façade of cheer turns as cloudy as the sky on the horizon and you reach for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“What wrong?” you ask and you watch as her body goes rigid.

“What makes you think there’s anything wrong?” An edge to her words, defensive, but you know her better by now. She’s afraid.

“Valerie.” You pull away from her embrace and plant your feet in front of her. You’re not tall enough to block her view but she looks at you all the same, “Please don’t push me away.” She sighs, her shoulders slumping and her head dropping and when she speaks her voice is low.

“I’m sorry,” the apology tumbles from her lips and you reach for her hands, “I just… I don’t…”

“Take your time,” you whisper as you rub your thumbs over the backs of her hands, her skin cool against your own.

“I.. there’s… There’s something I have to tell you.” When she meets your eye her features are pulled taught, and you brace yourself for whatever has her fearing so.

Sparkle

-----

It’s on the longer journeys like this that you miss having companions at your side.

You wrap your well-worn furs tighter around yourself and you really should have purchased some new ones before making this journey but you were full of excitement and just couldn’t wait. Your breath leaves you in a fine fog as the chill of the mountains aims to penetrate you to the bone and you’re shivering beneath your armor but you push on. Not much further now, you’re sure of it.

You miss talking and the idle chatter of others surrounding you. You grew up living with the cacophony of sound that a bustling city provides and the quiet of the wilds never quite sat right with you. The possibility of too many things lurking in the shadows the trees provided, you’d seen first-hand how miscalculating the danger could lead to the downfall of those stupid enough to not be on their guard. But the trees were sparse here and up ahead you saw them break into a flat expanse of snow, the cold wet of which had been seeping into your old leather boots for a while.

You weren’t prepared to trek through this and you had been travelling by halla up until recently. Having been attacked further down the mountain however you had chosen to let her free rather than have her caught in crossfire. The memory of the battle brings a wicked grin to your lips. Fuckers never knew what hit them.

You emerge from the treeline at last and step onto a path of rough-hewn stone that had originally been hidden from your view. Huh. Closer than you thought. The loud clunking of armor has your head snapping up to fix the solder heading your way with a dangerous glare. Your hands go to the daggers at your sides and your fingers curl around their grips and the soldier has some smarts when they slow their quick jog to a walk.

“Hail traveler!” they shout and a modicum of suspicion eases from your mind at the too friendly greeting, your hands stay where they are.

“Hail,” you reply pushing your hood down, eyes not leaving their face and when they stop near you straighten up.

“What brings you this far up the mountain?” they ask and you can see the way their eyes go from studying your features, the tips to your ears and the markings on your face, to freezing when they spy the griffon emblazoned on your chest plate. You’re not worried about people knowing who and what you are. As an elf scrutiny and distrust was something you had had to deal with your entire life, and as a Grey Warden you fought too hard to not be recognized. You grin, the edges maybe a little sharp looking for the soldier takes a step back when their eyes find your face once more.

“I’m journeying to Skyhold.” Your eyes slip from their face to regard the enormity of the castle at the other end of a long stone bridge, “I’m expected,” you add. They nod fervently and beckon you to follow and you fall in step as you begin across the bridge.

“We were told to look out for you. I just didn’t expect you to be…”

“An elf? A female?”

“So short.” The tone of shame has you barking a laugh which echoes back at you from the ravine below.

“I have to say that is a welcome change!” The solider laughs nervously and you clap them on the back, “Relax! I don’t bite. That’s a lie I do bite,” you chuckle, “But only the people who deserve it. And you, so far, have done nothing to deserve it.” You don’t think that’s put them at ease, but oh well.

There’s a commotion up ahead at the gatehouse. Voices shouting words you can’t quite hear and the portcullis begins to lift. There’s people crowding just inside the entrance and though you’re at a distance you know she’s not there. There’s a nervous flutter in your stomach that has you swallowing back butterflies and the soldier looks down at you.

“You’re all she’s been talking about since she received your letter,” they say and a hope blooms in your chest, “I’ve never seen the Spymaster smile before.” You’re not sure what to say in response so you opt for silence as murmuring of voices up ahead grows louder. Your palms are clammy and your hands are shaking and as your draw near the small crowd that has gathered parts.

And there she stands.

At the other end of the path created and she’s as still as you are.

You both stare at each other and even the crowd has fallen silent and then a grin breaks out on her face that mirrors your own and then you are running towards her with a desperation born of a too-long separation. Your heart is full of love and life and when your bodies collide the dam you had built to keep your emotions at bay simply crumbles apart. Her arms clasp you tightly and she pulls you in against her chest as you wrap your arms like a vice around as tears stream steadily down your face. The subtle aches that have been plaguing you for months vanish as you stand steady and safe in the arms of your love.

“Leli,” your voice is but a hoarse croak as her name leaves your lips and she squeezes you even tighter.

“Arianna. My love.” Her voice is wavering and when you pull apart, but not away, there’s tears in her eyes as well. Though they do nothing to dampen the sparkle of happiness shining so clear in the pale blue. You lift your hands from her hips to grab her face and pull her down into a kiss. You’ve gone far too long without knowing the taste of her lips and if you had it your way you would never be parted again.

Glass

-----

You’re paralyzed. Broken. Laying on the pavement with no chance of anyone coming to save you. You can’t even sense their minds, so far above they would be and you know something else inside you must be broken. It must be. You try to cry, try to scream but all that leaves your mouth is a spray of blood and a pathetic series of moans and groans. How could it have all gone so wrong? You thought you were stronger than this. You thought-

Hands secreting acid, the sickly smell of burning flesh laying thick and sweet on your tongue. Skin sloughing off her face and you can see the bone-

You rip yourself from the memory with enough force that your broken body jolts sending sparks of pain through limbs no longer able to function. Right now you wish you could feel the full agony that the pain gate is keeping at bay. It would be better than the dark tendrils threatening to overwhelm your mind. Your ears blur with the weight of your tears and they sting as they stream from your eyes, the salted liquid getting trapped in the cuts and gashes you know are there. You did go face first through the glass after all. You can see the shard just out the corner of your eye, large enough that you don’t need to strain to see it jutting up from your skin. Its an odd sensation, being able to sense the thin sliver of window embedded in your face yet feeling no pain.

You try to move again. Lifting your head up from the ground and you look down at your broken form and you can see bone jutting through skin and suit alike and there’s so much blood. The shards of glass surround you, framing you like some sort of macabre painting that would be beautiful if your predicament wasn’t so damn terrifying. Something got into your mind, snuck its grimy greasy fingers under your shields and took ahold of your thoughts like everything you had learnt was all for nothing. You had been lying to yourself. You weren’t prepared. None of you were prepared. And now your friend is dead and you could be next.

You hope you’ll be next.

With the amount of blood flowing from your wounds you know you will be. Sure, it’s a slower death than the gun would have afforded you but she stole that chance away. You should resent her for that and part of you does but you know she was acting on instinct. She always did. You can’t fault her for being her. She did her best.

You were all just doing your best.

But it wasn’t enough. And now you lay broken and beat on a cracked pavement as your blood slowly seeps out of you. Your vision begins to dim and you smile as you stare up at the hazy sky. Finally.

But there’s a sound at the edge of your perception now. Coming closer, towards you with intent and it sounds like a vehicle but nothing was supposed to be past the perimeter-

And you were wrong before. Your mind isn’t completely broken because you can sense the thoughts coming your way, fluttering and fleeting at the edge of your consciousness and before the static descends on them you pick out one mind. One mind, one thought that has wave after wave of terror coursing through your body. Like she knew you’d be searching for her.

Like she knew.

Welcome home.

Repulsive

You weren’t sure how you had caught this cold but if you ever found out you would kick their ass. You thought you’d be fine to handle it on your own. You thought it would simply pass over and through you in a couple of days. Oh boy were you wrong. You had never had a cold as bad as this before. With shivers and shakes, complete with hot and cold flushes and bouts of nausea. Still, at first, you had been determined to struggle through it yourself.

The path to your downfall had begun when Julia had invited you and Themmy to her apartment for a movie night. You know the smart thing would’ve been to say no, but you hang around them too much and you know they would have pestered you until you showed up. At least this way you had an out if you wanted to leave.

It was a rare chilly day in Los Diablos so this time you had a reason to be covered up. From head to toe the only part of you showing were the tips of your fingers, even your head and eyes were covered. You headed straight into the apartment complex, the fact that you were late meant Themmy would be there already, and gave a nod to the security standing just inside the door. Climbing the stairs had you flushing hot so by the time you had found yourself outside Julia’s door your gloves were stuff into the pockets of your pants and your jacket was draped over your arm.

And that’s where you stood now, hand poised to knock as your vision swam in front of you. Oh geez. That was new. You knock loudly three times and the door swings open to a familiar freckled face before you.

“Annie!!” Themmy grabs your free arm and pulls you into a hug as she throws the door shut behind you. You hug her back with one arm and let out a chuckle that threatens to turn into a cough before you pull away and step further into the apartment. You throw your jacket onto the couch and head into the kitchen where you know Julia will be.

“Hey Annie,” she throws the greeting over her shoulder with her usual grin from where she stands at the stove. You can hear the sizzle of whatever she’s cooking and can see the steam rise but your nose is so stuffed you can’t smell a thing. You take a seat the counter, scooting over to make space for Themmy as she hops up next to you.

“You going to take your layers off?” Themmy leans one arm on the benchtop as she turns side on to face you.

“I have a cold,” you mumble.

“What was that?” You know she’s doing this on purpose. But you’re a sucker aren’t you? You sigh beneath your thick scarf before simultaneously pulling it, your goggles and your beanie off.

“I said I have a cold alright?” you croak, wiping the back of your hand across your nose as you sniffle.

“¡Dios mío Annie.” You turn in your seat to see Julia fixing you with a look of panic, “You look horrible.” You roll your eyes before squeezing them tight when the motion causes your head to spin.

“Yeah yeah, rub it in why don’t you,” you reply.

“You look like death,” Themmy jokes.

“I look repulsive, I know,” you chuckle and this time it does turn into a cough. A wheezing hack which has you doubling over with one hand on the bench for support. When you’re finally able to take a breath it sounds worryingly wet as it rattles in your chest.

“Alright. Change of plans,” Julia’s tone switches from the easy-going Charge to the Marshall of the Rangers as she addresses the both of you, “Themmy, grab a blanket and pillow from the cupboard in the hall. Annie. Go sit on the couch.”

“But-“ you start and the protest is stopped short.

“Couch. Now,” Julia points and you grumble, getting to your feet as Themmy scrambles off down the hall.

“I don’t take orders from you, y’know?” you throw the words at Julia as you head into the living room and all you get in reply is a light-hearted laugh and part of you is relieved. That she’s doing this with the intention to take care of you. You sink down into the plush of the well-worn couch and sigh as you tilt your head back and close your eyes. Maybe it’d be okay to let yourself be taken care of. If only this once.

[c1trvswurld]

I get excited for sex as a viewer. The carnality of it is cool. The way my eyes dilate and i get elated when I see a wild animal rip into a piece of flesh in an animal doc is the same towards my general feeling around sex. Go tear that up

[il3x]

lord huron is soooo good bc so many of their songs are like, Emotionally, Thematically, they're very moving and relatable love songs. but Literally, they're always about some paranormal Situation. and I know that both readings are 100 percent real

[spitedriven]

one thing i will throw out there, with regards to romantic shipping with lucanis: i'm extremely open to it (👀) but he's on the asexual spectrum.

specifically to my interpretation, i read him as being demisexual with a lower sex drive in general, though panromantic. this doesn't mean he won't have sex ever, just that it's heavily linked to love and intimacy for him.

i'm hesitant to say much further than that--kinda ties into a post i made on the main hub--but i think in general it would be up to lucanis' partner to prompt for sex. he knows it exists, obviously, but he forgets that people like, want, or need it. he's far more interested in cuddling, talking, parallel play, etc. those are the activities he reaches for, i'll say, as a foundation. what happens in addition to those things i think depends on the relationship and what his partner wants/likes/needs.

[biblicalhorror]

this past weekend I was at a bachelorette party and I was smoking weed with this girl I didn't know very well and she was like "yeah everyone assumes I'm a lesbian because I work in construction and I don't wear makeup" and I was like 🫣 girlie I thought you were a lesbian because you just told me verbatim your type in men is "when they're silent and leave you alone" but it reallyyyyy doesn't seem like you're ready for that conversation yet

[pergaminaa]

I think milk is another thing that they don't agree on.

Aelin, Dorian and possibly even Chaol have no problems with drinking milk. Idk they seem to be like those people you know? Especially Dorian and Aelin because while reading, nothing beats snacking on cookies and a cold glass of milk because they're silly like that.

Manon (and the rest of the witches) is the opposite. They'd visibly flinch at the sight of someone drinking milk casually and honestly, Dorian thought the witches are being dramatic and he turned to Manon because she is different (they like to mess with him this is why he confirms things with Manon). However, she was reacting exactly the same way because ew this thing is disgusting and just the thought of it was enough to make her feel nauseous (but Dorian didn't think her being dramatic she's just being herself).

[fangirlinginleatherboots]

Instagram weddings are insane. The money people pour into completely fake and staged things just for follows....-》 unfortunately has a cousin who did this

[the-dist-ortionist]

I forgot the physical affects kf caffeine and now I'm all jittery and lightheaded plessehelp

Uh anyways I finished the jekyll and hydenovella jt was great I loved it I don't know if I want hyde or want to be him (The alter co con wants him and js bejnfvsry vocal abiut)

[steelycunt]

lactose tolerant people who bash a nice glass of cold milk dont even fucking deserve the ability to digest lactose. some of us would fucking kill for that you miserable cunt

[leviabeat]

Ahhh!!!

Via Volbeat on Instagram

[nephyria]

eh. eht! I just get the feeling that sometimes when ppl say “destigmatize [Condition]” they do not actually know what a stigma is and in fact are just looking up How To Not Mis-ID Some Poor Un[condition]ed Bystander And Actually Target The REAL [Condition] Freaks So We Can Stig All Over Them

[ourtintedworld]

listen the whole thing with my ex was wild but i will never let myself forget how i convinced my parents to let us share a bed by telling them he was asexual

[bizarrelovetriangel]

n i g h t m a r e s.

angst with comfort. they have a nightmare where they lost you.

sylus

You were in the N109 Zone for hunters business, and he only found out from Mephisto. Sylus got on his bike and rushed over to your location to demand answers. Why are you there? Why are you alone? Why didn't you tell him anything?

Once he saw you in the middle of a battleground surrounded by unconscious bodies and wrapping a bandage around your left arm, Sylus's breath hitched.

"So the kitten got scratched, despite how ferocious she is." He reached out to help you with your bandage, but you took a step back and frowned at him.

"Don't touch me."

"Oh?" He raised a brow at your cold tone. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, sweetie?"

You gritted your teeth and turned away from him.

"Stay away from me, Sylus."

Confusion flashed in his eyes. You didn't look like you're in a joking mood, and the way you looked at him with empty eyes felt like a stab to his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked carefully, not taking a single step towards you just in case you start running away. "Have I done something to piss you off?"

"Done something?" you laughed bitterly. "What haven't you done?"

No, there wasn't just emptiness in your eyes. There was disgust. Repulsion, directed at him. You haven't looked at him in that way for a long time, and he was reminded of how much he hated it.

"Sweetie, let's talk -"

He made the mistake of reaching out to touch you, so you slapped his hand away and jumped back.

"I said stay away from me! Don't.... don't talk to me anymore, don't follow me, just don't.... just stay out of my life! I don't want to be with a monster like you!"

A monster.

So, that's what it was.

He can't say he was surprised.

He always had a feeling that one day, you'll come to your senses and ask yourself, how could you ever love someone like him?

Looks like you've finally woken up from whatever spell he put on you. Now, you want nothing to do with him.

"Stay away from me." You took even more steps back, your figure was starting to merge with the shadows. "Goodbye, Sylus."

His feet were stuck to the bloodstained ground as he watched you disappear in his life forever.

Suddenly, he became aware of how cold the air is, and how quiet it is around him. His heart twinged, as if he'd been pierced by multiple daggers. His body felt numb and empty.

Standing became difficult, and his eyes felt like anchors that demanded to be shut. He gasped for air as he feels his chest tightening, but he only felt even more drowned.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't move.

He wanted go run after you, but bloodied hands had sprung out of nowhere and started pulling his feet deeper in the ground.

"Sylus..."

"...."

"Sylus."

His eyes opened and squinted from the setting sun's light that slipped past the curtains of his bedroom windows.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

He sat up and frantically scanned his surroundings. He ran a hand through his hair and felt all the sweat that were on his forehead.

"Sylus?"

His eyes slowly met yours, and they lingered for a long time. It's as if he's waiting and searching for something.

"You had a nightmare, right?" You looked at him with concern. "Are you okay? I'm gonna go get you a glass of water. I'll be back - "

"No, wait."

Sylus caught your hand as you tried to leave. His thumb caressed the back of your hand and observed it for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Just stay here with me. I just...need you here."

"Okay." You sat still next to him and let him fiddle with your hands, as it seems to be giving him comfort. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Sylus tangled his fingers against yours, keeping his eyes on your joined hands. "You're not...." He paused for a second as he felt his throat drying up nervously. "You're not repulsed by me, are you?"

"What?"

"You know what l've done.... What I do, and who I am. Do you still... Do you still...."

You were quick to understand what he was trying to ask, and what he might have dreamt about.

"I love you." You looked into his eyes that seems to lack its usual life and confidence. "I know what you do and who you are, and I still love you, Sylus. Whatever happened in your dream.... it's not real."

He closed his eyes and let your words sink in deep in his heart, replaying them to forget about the painful words you threw at him in his nightmare.

It wasn't real.

What's real is you, in front of him, holding his hands and you telling him that you love him.

What's real is you caring about him and sticking by his side even when he's feeling vulnerable.

Sylus' silent reply came with a lingering kiss on your forehead. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and guided you to lie back down. Once your back is flat against the soft mattress, Sylus pulled you close to him.

Even though he didn't say anything, you felt his gratitude with the way he embraced you with such warm, gentle, and secure arms.

As he closed his eyes, he continued to replay the words you told him.

At last, he was gifted with a peaceful dream.

///////

xavier

Surrounded by speck of lights, Xavier spun you around as you and him dance slowly underneath the stars.

You two were on your way home after a dinner date when you heard music blasting from a nearby concert venue. Live music echoes throughout the park with the big water fountain, completely empty since it's already quite late.

Xavier gazed at the way your face lit up as you laugh after suddenly losing balance and almost stepping on his feet.

"You didn't accidentally drink alcohol tonight, did you?" He held your hands tightly to keep you stable.

"Of course not! I just got a little dizzy, that's all."

"Maybe you just need to sleep more." he says half-jokingly as he rested his hands on your waist. "Instead of leaving the bed so early in the morning, you should just wait for me to wake you up. I'll be your alarm clock."

"Pfft. If that's the case, we might be sleeping forever." You cupped his face with your hands as he looks at you with bright eyes.

"That doesn't sound too bad." he whispers, leaning closely to brush his lips against yours. "I don't mind, as long as you're next to me. We have all the time in the world."

Just as he closed the distance between your lips, you suddenly froze and moved back.

"Hmm? What's - "

You let go of him and put a hand on your chest, right over your heart.

"It... it hurts..."

Your face suddenly turned pale.

"I - can't b-breathe..."

Xavier felt his world stop as your legs gave out. His arms stopped your knees from hitting the ground, and his body became numb after feeling how clammy your skin had gotten.

"X-xavier...."

He found himself struggling to take a breathe, too.

He was petrified.

He didn't know what to do.

It was happening again. He was losing you all over again, just like in every life time he had with you. Just when he thought he finally got it right this time, just when he thought he'd get his happy ending...

He couldn't lose you.

Not now. Not again.

He has to do something.

"Xavier..."

His vision suddenly darkened. You vanished completely, and he couldn't feel your body at all. It's like you'd turned into dust.

"No..."

"Xavier..."

"Where are you?" he cried in panic, desperately looking around for you yet not a single light welcomed his eyes. He called out your name repeatedly, but your voice was fading away.

"Where....."

"Xavier!"

And in an instant, a flash of light embraced him. He opened his eyes and the first thing he sees is you, sitting next to him and looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

You were wearing pajamas rather than the fancy dress he last saw you in. There is no fountain, and you were not at a park. You two are in his apartment, in his bedroom.

"You...." His heart was racing as he looked at you for a long time. "You're..... you're...." His throat felt tight and dry.

You took his hands and held them tightly. "I'm right here, Xavier." You pulled him into your arms and rested his face against your chest. "Everything is fine."

He closed his eyes and exhaled as he heard the sound of your stable heartbeat.

You're here and you're okay.

"I thought...." Xavier groans and shakes his head. He'd rather not recall that nightmare. "I'm... I'm glad you're here."

You held him tighter, feeling his body's warmth returning. "I won't go anywhere."

You took the hint that he didn't want to talk about what got him shaking and breathing heavily in his sleep. Sometimes, it's good to talk about nightmares, and sometimes it's better to just let it fade away.

"It's around five in the morning." you told him. "The birds are gonna start chriping soon. Do you wanna step out with me to see them?

"Yeah." he smiled against your chest. "I'd like that."

////////

rafayel

It was his own fault that you ran away from him. He was feeling sick, particularly due to his Lemurian nature, and he blurted out that he needed some time away from you for a while, right when you were trying to take care of him. He was overwhelmed and frustrated, and he told you something he didn't mean.

And now, you're gone.

The house and the beach have never felt so empty and lonely.

He couldn't recall when was the last time he'd seen you and heard your voice.

Rafayel finds himself sitting in front of an unfinished painting of the one he loves. He'd memorized the expression you wear when you'd admire the sunset with him after collecting sea shells. He painted that precious memory just so he can see your face outside of his head.

He wondered what you would think about your portrait once he shows it to you.

He waited and waited.

But you never came back.

Rafayel couldn't remember. Has it been weeks? Months? Years? Did another lifetime pass? Will he have to search for you again?

Of course, he'd do it. He'll wait for you and search for you for as long as he needs. For as long as he can.

But he really thought this lifetime would be it. He thought, maybe, you won't lose each other this time. He had everything he wanted, and yet...

You left him again. You'd given up on him.

If only he could turn back time, he'll find a way to show his true feelings. He'd find a way to keep you close and never let you go.

If only....

"What a mess you are."

"....huh....?"

That was your voice.

His eyes snapped wide open to see you looking down on him. He was sitting down on a chair and his head was down on a table, on top of the unfinished painting of you.

He had fallen asleep with paint all over his face and clothes, though he didn't care about that.

Was it all just a dream?

Was he given another chance?

"You... Are you really here?"

You tilted your head at the sound of his weak voice. "I am. Mostly, I'm here to check up on you because I thought you wouldn't sleep. I'm glad to learn that I was wrong. You were talking in your sleep."

He was saying some things in Lemurian, so you didn't understand. Though, he clearly looked upset, so you contemplated whether to wake him up or not. Nonetheless, his eyes opened at the sound of your voice, no matter how quiet you tried to be.

"You're here....Even though I...." he looks away, feeling his stomach churning with discomfort. "Even though I pushed you away...." He looked down at the portrait he'd been working on. "In my dream, you left and didn't come back. I was waiting for you, but you weren't coming. I thought I wasn't going to see you again, and I was.... I was scared."

You felt your heart drop as his voice quivered. You stepped towards him and pulled him into a hug, catching him by surprise.

"Rafayel..." He buried his face in your stomach. "I'm not going to leave you. Sure, you can be a little dramatic and moody. Sometimes, you overwhelmed and frustrated. Sometimes, you'd want space, and that's perfectly okay."

He wrapped his arms around you tightly.

"I couldn't resist staying away from you for more than five days." you laughed. "That's why I'm here. To see how you are."

"I..." he looks up at you and flashes you a smile. "I'm feeling better now that you're here."

"Good." You caressed his face and wiped a speck of paint that was on his chin. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

"Okay!"

///////

zayne

Zayne exited a patient's room just in time to hear the commotion out in the hallway. He could hear Yvonne giving out orders. She's trying to sound calm, but he could tell that she was shaken by something.

He took five steps right before an unconscious body was brought in a stretcher.

His eyes noticed the hunters' uniform first, torn and covered in blood. Then, there was the gaping wound on your stomach. Lastly, your cold, paling face.

Zayne dropped the clipboard that was in his hand. His feet acted on their own and rushed to your side, shakily calling out your name.

His hands shook and his vision blurred.

"Doctor Zayne!" Yvonne came up next to him. "She's - "

"I'm her primary doctor. I'll -"

He was stopped from entering the room that you was taken into.

Instead, Greyson came running in, but not before giving Zayne a look of sympathy. "I'll do all that I can to save her."

"I'm going in too."

Yvonne put a hand on his shoulder.

"Doctor Zayne... She's going to be okay. We can trust Doctor Greyson."

His breath comes out raggedy as he tries to calm his pounding heart in his tightening chest. "But I'm her physician. I'm the one that should be treating her."

"I'm sorry, Doctor Zayne."

He knows the rules, yet he found them hard to follow at the moment.

Doctors are generally not supposed to operate on anyone that's close to them, such as a family member or a partner, due to several complicated ethical matters.

But still, he should be the one to treat you.

What was the point of him becoming a doctor if he couldn't save your life?

"Let me...."

"We're losing her!" someone exclaims from your room.

Zayne felt his vision spinning. He tried to get to you, but his legs stopped working.

Why couldn't he move?

He needed to see you. To save you.

Move.

Save her.

There's no time.

Move.

Move, or else she's going to....

"Zayne!"

His body felt as if it had been pulled out of a frozen lake. He gasped and shot up from his seat, finding his legs working perfectly. He's inside his home office and he had taken a nap right on his desk.

"Zayne! Are you okay? I heard you screaming so I -" you failed to finish your sentence as you were suddenly pulled in his arms.

Your feet lifted from the ground while you wrapped your arms around his back. Zayne rested his face against your neck and took a deep breath and a slow exhale, tickling your skin.

From where your hands are, you could feel him slightly trembling. He must have had a horrible nightmare.

"I never want to feel that again." he whispered, pressing you tighter against him. "Please, don't go."

You ran your hands up and down his back. "I'm not going anywhere."

Zayne didn't leave your side for the rest of the night.

////////

caleb

After all these years, he couldn't believe he finally got what he wanted. You're by his side, not just as your childhood friend, but as your lover.

Out of all the people, you chose him.

It felt too good to be true.

And maybe that's why you were once again taken from him.

One day, he received a call from your boss. Apparently, you had encountered someone from Ever and got in a dangerous fight. You were taken to a hospital, so Caleb instantly left Skyhaven to see you.

He entered your room with a basket full of apples. "Pip-squeak, you look terrible."

You stared at him with a deadpanned expression.

You had bandages wrapped around the top of your head, since that was where your main injury is. Aside from that, you had minor bruises and scratches on your arms.

"Tough crowd today." He sat on the chair and held your left hand.

You pulled away quickly.

"Huh? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You blinked at him with confusion. "....Who are you?"

"...." Caleb lets out a chuckle, even though his heart had already dropped. "That's not funny."

The look on your face told him that you weren't in the mood for jokes either.

"You.... you don't remember me?"

You shook your head. "I'm sorry, but I can't remember..."

His entire world felt like it came crashing down.

All the memories he'd desperately tried to preserve. All the moments you'd spent together, from when you were kids that were nothing more than lab rats, to when you both started living with your grandma, to when you reunited after the incident, and to when you started to become lovers. All of it is gone.

You're looking at him with nothing but confusion in your eyes.

You didn't even want to hold his hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." Behind his pained smile, he clenched his fists even though he could no longer feel them.

This is all Ever's fault.

He is going to make them pay for hurting you and taking away all of your precious memories, stripping you of your identity.

"While you recover, I'll look after you." he told you while holding an apple towards you. "If you need anything, just let me know."

"Okay."

Despite your reply, you never came to him for help. Even when your injuries got better, you refused his offers to look after you and keep you company.

You never asked about your old memories. You weren't even trying to regain them. It's like you'd turned into a new person, and he had become a stranger to you.

You were his entire world, but he was nothing but a fragment of your past that you no longer know and care for. He was nothing to you.

It should be fine, right?

You're alive. That's the most important part.

You were safe, and he's going to make sure you stay safe, even if he has to stay in the shadows.

So, why does it hurt so much?

Why did getting out of bed feel pointless? Why does he check his phone, knowing he hasn't crossed your mind at all? Why did his shoulders feel heavier and his chest tighter?

He just wanted to see you. He wanted to hear your voice, calling his name to show him something silly so he can laugh with you.

He wouldn't mind if you get angry with him for all the stupid things he'd done. As long as you know he's there, as long as you look at him, that's enough for him.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Caleb almost fell out of bed at the alarm ringing in full blast.

"What....?"

He wasn't in his dark, lonely room in Skyhaven. He's in your bright and colorful apartment, on your warm bed.

And there was someone humming from outside the room.

Caleb slowly got out of bed and followed the source of the humming that had his heart racing and swelling, warming up his body that had been feeling cold and empty just seconds ago.

He enters the kitchen and finds you cooking breakfast.

Suddenly, breathing became ten times easier.

You yelped as you were hugged from behind. "Caleb! Don't scare me like that!"

He smiled against your shoulders. "It's you that scared me to death, pip-squeak."

"Me? What do you mean?!"

"Nothing." He pressed his lips on your right cheek. "So, what's for breakfast?"

It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real, and it's never going to be real. He'll make sure of it. He will never let anything happen to you for as long as he lives.

All he ask for in return is for you to keep looking at him with the same light of love and happiness in your eyes.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤTWISTED LOVEㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Nolan Grayson x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would He Be When He's Obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : There are some +18 parts. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It starts with curiosity.

Nolan doesn’t fall easily. He’s Viltrumite—evolution burned love out of his species long ago. Mates are chosen for compatibility, strength, breeding. Nothing more.

But you—you confuse him.

You’re human. Fragile. Your bones would shatter with a flick of his wrist. You bleed too easily. You cry too loudly. You smile too much. Your laugh is obnoxious, your opinions are naïve, your body is so soft and delicate he finds it repulsive... until he doesn’t.

Until he starts to notice the sound of your voice more than the noise of the city. Until your scent burns into his nose like it was made for him. Until the day you touch his arm in passing and he has to leave the room because his hands are shaking.

He tells himself it’s a distraction. He tells himself you’re just an itch.

Then comes the obsession.

He watches you.

Not because he wants to.

Because he has to.

You’re always in his mind. Your laugh replays in his ears when he’s halfway across the world. He knows your routines—what time you leave for work, where you get your coffee, how long it takes you to fall asleep.

He listens to your heartbeat sometimes when you’re not even near him. Through walls. Through cities. It calms him. Grounds him. And if someone looks at you too long in public, he memorizes their face.

They never live long.

He tells himself it’s protection. You’re vulnerable. You don’t understand the world like he does. You need him.

But it’s not protection.

It’s possession.

He tests the waters.

At first, you think it’s innocent.

Nolan starts showing up where you are—your local bookstore, the park, the grocery store. You think it’s coincidence. He’s charming. Polite. A little intense. You know he’s married. You know he’s older. You know he’s too much.

But when he talks, you feel like he’s the only one seeing you.

And that’s all it takes.

He kisses you once—gently, like you might break. He apologizes. Says he’s confused. Says he’s trying to be a better man.

He’s lying.

But the kiss… isn’t.

He feels something snap inside him when you don’t pull away.

He leaves his wife.

Debbie notices the change. Of course she does. He’s colder, angrier, distracted. And she knows. She always knew what he was capable of.

You’re not some secret mistress. You’re a turning point.

He lies at first. Then stops bothering.

When he leaves, it’s sudden. He doesn’t explain. He doesn’t need to. Debbie is human. You’re human too—but different.

You make him feel like a god and a man. You make him care.

And that terrifies him.

He can’t stand being apart.

If you ever try to pull away—even a little—he loses control.

He won’t yell. He won’t hit. He’s too above that.

But the air gets thinner. His voice gets colder. His eyes go dark.

He’ll corner you emotionally. Tell you how small and weak and breakable you are in this world. How people like you don’t survive without someone like him. How you need him more than you realize.

And he’ll say it with love in his voice.

With desperation.

With devotion.

He worships you. In his own way.

When you’re with him, you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

He’ll carry you like glass. Cook for you. Watch you sleep, every night. Whisper in your ear.

He never says I love you.

He says you’re mine.

He says I would burn this planet for you.

He says don’t ever leave me.

And he means all of it.

But his love is twisted.

He doesn’t understand human love. Human softness.

He’ll kill for you, without hesitation. Always without you knowing. He’ll destroy anyone who hurts you—even if that “hurt” was just a stray word or a suspicious look.

And if you ever betray him?

He won’t kill you.

No.

He’ll kill for you.

He’ll tear open the sky just to find you.

Even if it means dragging you down with him.

Because in the end...

You’re not just his obsession.

You’re his purpose.

His reason for staying tethered to this meaningless world.

And if this planet turns on him?

Then he’ll turn on it.

With you at his side.

Or in his arms.

Or in his cage.

Whatever it takes.

It’s never soft. Not anymore.

He tries. In the beginning.

He holds your face like it’s precious. Like your skin might fall off your bones if he touches too hard. But Nolan was made to conquer, not caress.

And every time you moan—every time you whisper his name like it’s holy—he forgets he’s supposed to pretend to be human.

He grabs you.

Slams your wrists above your head, his hand wrapped around both like iron. Teeth at your throat, your shoulder, your lips—biting, not kissing.

He doesn’t ask if you want it.

He already knows.

You’re soaked for him. Begging. Gasping.

He knows your body better than you do. He knows exactly how to tear you apart and put you back together.

And he enjoys it.

He punishes you when you try to leave.

Maybe you text someone you shouldn't. Maybe you don't come home fast enough. Maybe you talk back.

You never even see it coming.

He shows up, silent and still as death. The door locks behind him. His cape hits the floor. You see his eyes—they’re glowing.

You say his name.

He doesn’t speak.

He bends you over the table like a toy and fucks you until you're sobbing. Until your knees are shaking. Until you’re hoarse from screaming and begging but you don’t even know what for anymore.

You cry, and he kisses the tears like they belong to him.

Because they do.

You do.

He breaks the bed. Sometimes the floor. Sometimes you.

His strength is inhuman.

Sometimes, he forgets to hold back. He snaps the headboard with one thrust, cracks the floor with his knees while grinding into you. One night, he tears your panties in half with two fingers and growls, “Don’t wear these around me again.”

Sometimes you bruise. Sometimes you limp. Sometimes you wake up with your thighs sticky and sore, your body aching in places you forgot existed.

And he’s always there when you wake up.

Cleaning the blood from your thighs. Pressing kisses to your forehead. Murmuring things you don’t understand but feel in your bones.

They sound like prayers.

But they’re threats too.

He keeps you.

Eventually, you stop fighting it.

He’s not just a man. He’s a force. A hunger. A god who decided you were the one thing worth worshipping.

And gods don’t let their worshippers go.

He doesn’t let you leave the house without a kiss. He doesn't let you sleep unless it's with his hand wrapped around your hip, or his head buried in your neck. He tracks you. Listens to your heartbeat through walls. Through cities.

One night, you whisper, “You’re obsessed.”

He laughs.

Low. Dangerous.

“No,” he says. “I’m yours. You’re mine. That’s not obsession, sweetheart. That’s truth.”

And then he kisses you like he’s about to devour your soul.

And maybe he does.

You forget who you were before him.

Before Nolan.

Before the bruises you like.

Before the eyes that watch you even in your dreams.

Before you started craving the way he breaks you just to feel whole again.

Now you live for the sound of him growling your name. For the way he says “mine” when he’s deep inside you, holding you down like the world might rip you from him.

You should run.

You won’t.

You belong to him now.

And the terrifying part is—

You want to.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[acid-ixx]

brutus: out for blood (villain au concept)

ft. neglectful yandere! bruce wayne x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: did anybody ask for this? no! did i decide to write this anyways? abso -fucking-lutely. is this a rantfic? mayybee. anyways, this is not my best piece nor will anything i write be my best piece but i just love destroying my happiness with angst and altho writing a very anxiety ridden mc is fun, i also love to dabble in sadomasochistic traits for a main character. like i said, i am not proud of this but i figured i should post something. erm... leave comments bec i love reading whatever stuff u guys have in store hehe.

you've tasted blood on your tongue far longer than you've felt the loving touch of a family.

it's metallic. it's salty. it twists every vein in your gut.

it tastes of broken metal pipes in playgrounds, destructive tantrums and broken dreams, of skipped classes and detention rooms, of ripped test papers and missed diplomas. it reminds you of your bitter past every single time; one you swore you've buried six feet deep into the ground. a burning memory with nothing more than heartaches and heartbreaks.

you taste blood whenever they reject your advances for even a single moment of bonding time. you feel it pumping slowly, steadily, painfully whenever you stumble upon a room, only to see them, smiles and all, huddled together in a group with junk food in their hands and a movie playing in that stupid flat screen tv. you know it's the only thing accompanying you whenever he misses another event in your school. it becomes the only friend you have whenever you're alone, inside your too-small room, with shatters glass scattered around and bruised knuckles.

blood, for most, is vile, utterly repulsive. it reeks in every corner of a room, its scent is overpowering, it stains, it's hard to clean. it imprints. and it will always remind you it's there, in the depths of your body, curdling and boiling and ready to burst out of the seems every time you rip at your skin with a razor sharp blade. blood has always been your only friend, like a scar that will never fade away.

yet you embrace crimson like it was the color of your soul, and accept how it's the only color you allow in your grim life. black has never provided you solace, but red allowed for a mantra of emotions to trail into your very being.

blood. it's more homely than you let it out to be.

and you're far more familiar with it than anything else. you cradle it like an unwanted child, you kiss its wounds, allow it to fester and grow into an abhorrent disease that crawls like a lump in your throat that you could never get rid of.

in moments of solace, of quaint prayers and hours of kneeling into the floor— it is the thing that slides on cold, hard tiles. it is the warmth, the numbness, the thing that seeps out of your bruised knees, your scratched neck and your thighs with fingernails buried deep into flesh.

you've come to love blood, cherish it even.

especially if it's your own.

especially if it came from the punch of none other than your father.

left, right, left, right.

his punches were cruel and his kicks can easily crush bones into powder. he demands answers with every strike he delivers, he exudes an energy far more adrenaline based than yours. batman is methodical in the way he moves, the way he acts, and you're not; you're impulsive, you had no plans to counter the towering man— no counter for the brutal hits he lay upon you. you let him, you open every doorway world to beat your body black and blue, with red painting the canvas as a finishing touch.

he's stronger than you, and every time he bashes your head into the wall, the urge to spit into his face, to piss him off, to laugh at him and his Idiocracy; it all becomes stronger.

yet all you do was allow him multiple openings, denying yourself the pleasure of attempting to even take your abandoned gun at the corner and shoot at his cranium— you want him to suffer, even if it costs you your mobility by the near future, fuck it.

up, down, to the side, then an uppercut to your jaw and you're nearly depleted of anymore moves to counter. you want to seem like you've given up; but you want him pissed off, enough to punch you 'til blood seeps into the fibers of your mask. until your face starts bruising, until your nose breaks, until he finally rips your mask off and sees your face.

and he'll come to regret.

you shift to the side, and ignore the sting of your throat, the lull of your head and the soreness of your entire body.

because if you hadn't dodged, then your head would've left an imprint on the walls. you would've preferred that now, rather than the disgusting feeling of sentimentality that creeps into your heart at the implication that his blows were slowly, but surely, weakening.

he's holding back, you hold back a sneer.

as if he actually cares about you.

maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. you know he cares far more deeply for his enemies than he does you, and you hate how glad you are at the pride that finally, just finally are you being acknowledged. at the opposite end of his side, as enemies. but for once you can feel the care he offers others, most of which were nonexistent back when you were just some... nobody.

batman never kills; but he can hurt, he can injure, and he can destroy. and right now, you feel all the air leaving your body as the cloaked vigilante delivers the last punch to your ribcage.

you fall, on your hands and knees, a loud thump resounding through the empty abandoned building. all you hear are your crackling joints, and heavy breathing. heavy, like your eyelids, about to fall, about to shut until black encompasses your vision. if not for the remaining adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would've fainted— but you won't, you wouldn't, not until you see him, see his face.

the thumping in your heart beats louder, and your hands. god, they feel like jelly, it's burning, it's one step closer on collapsing under gravelly concrete and piercing skin into rocks. yet you're forbidden any time for grace, not when he lightly shoves you out of your position, and not when you fall to your sides, hands paralyzed, tears prickling against your cheeks at the pain that burns throughout your body.

"you don't deserve peace after shooting that family in front of that child, you know it."

his voice, domineering, absolutely fucking vibrating with a tremor of sheer anger. he directs his words at you, without empathy, without mercy. he wants you to learn to never mess with him in the streets of gotham. but you'll never... not until he notices you. fuck, you just want him to notice you. and now, he is, with utter vexation that causes a lump in your throat to form.

shit, you've never felt so happy.

it's when his tussled form — heavy, pitch-black boots slathered with crimson liquid — enters your sight that you cough, violently, out of breath, and you can feel it one second, then taste it in your tongue the next.

blood.

you grin, and slowly, ever-so eminently, did you spiral into a cackle. your throat gurgles crimson liquid, and yet it only builds into a cacophony of a broken record. you move your head, look through your nearly shredded domino mask, with so little strength to accompany you, to look at the man above you, eyes glinting with a glow never so alive until now.

you're genuinely so fucking happy.

batman, he who strikes fear into the hearts of gotham villains and civilians alike. he who protects the city at night. he whose name is said with wavering uncertainty— he's looking at you, only you.

'bruce wayne: my dad— is finally looking at me.'

and you! you're laughing, the sounds that emanate from your throat are so scratchy, so utterly decimated that it sounds like vultures feeding through a dead corpse; but you don't let your chuckles die down, because you're so, so happy.

he looks at you, with contempt, with disgust, you don't know; but you're still so overjoyed.

"y-yeah... it's me, i did it. are you proud of me...?" you ask as you look up, through the tears that flow out your eyes, through the grin that couldn't die down. he looks at you like you're insane, and you know he's confused, shifting uncomfortably as he gives someone a status update through the comms, his eyes never leaving your pathetic form—

you look at him like he means the world all throughout.

"call for red robin, i have one of the culprits," he orders through the intangible device, eyes squinting as he takes you in— you whose chuckles slowly calmed down, as your breathing finally becomes heavier, as blood, yours, seem to seep into clumsily made apparel. you, who bruce realized seem too oddly familiar, too small, too childish, whose moment of spiraling insanity is too damn innocent to ignore.

you're not like the typical rogue he encounters, no. and right before you finally allow sleep to overcome you, you muster the last of your energy, to stare back at him with shining eyes, expectant, and like a child's, you ask with the meekest voice.

"hey... dad, i have a surprise." scratchy, absolutely broken, yet spilling with joy, with... your last word right before you continue, bruce's heart thumps ever the slightest faster.

"take my mask off, please?"

crimson began to overtake your entire body, and bruce should've never complied with your... request, but as he kneels and finally gets a grasp of what you truly look like, he notices the frailness, the vulnerability, as if you were never built for... combat. with just how quickly you succumb to the depths of rest, with how oblivious you are to the fact that if it were anyone else, they would've killed you.

you're not properly trained, you fight out of impulse, and he knows it with just how swift you gave up midfight.

when he pulls the domino mask (which seems oddly inspired by the shape of... his vigilante partners, the robins...) off your face, did his heart finally hastened its pace, loud thumping crawling its way to his ears, his eyes registering your face: its form, its shape, your eyes, your nose—

all similar to his, all an amalgamation of your mother's, too.

no... wait, no.

it's not...

it's not his... child?

you?

your eyes, flickering one last time stared at him, softly, like that of a child who looks at their father with pride like nothing else. your hand, it shakes, it shivers, as your fingers find its way creeping to his hand, holding your mask. fingers so dainty, now pulverized bones lay atop his shivering hand, tenderly, as if trying to comfort the very same man who has nearly killed you.

batman— no, bruce looks at you. at what he's done, and only now did he realize his greatest mistake. a child, his child, one whose innocence retained through heinous acts, now a villain, whose actions were all a testimony to merely wanting their father's attention.

he failed you, his child. he failed to protect you, who he has never held up close until now— as your body is hastily taken into his arms. so small, so easily wrapped around his body, so unbefitting of committing criminal activity. now bloodied and laid into barren ground by their very own father.

bruce wayne never felt this much terror, for nearly killing his child.

this, this day marks his sin.

and you? dearest you feel like today is your greatest day.

crimson, nearly every part of you is stained with that putrid color.

yet blood has always been your best friend, no? and right now as you bleed into the arms of your father, you find yourself grateful that it is the last thing you see before a black cloak wraps around you, before black fills your entire line of sight.

short rant ahead: another author's note??? wow. yeah this was such a hard drabble to write. plsplspls leave a comment or some sort of input. anything will do. ive been so demotivated to write lately and i feel like anything i write is just, so bad 😭 like is my pacing good? are the emotions out of place? am i even doing this right ?? i don't know, and i feel like every time i post something i always put up expectations on myself that I should've done better so yeahh. is this attention seeking behavior? probably. but i don't get how people have come to like the stuff i write when i hate whatever i write hence why im in a constant cycle of hiatuses and short breaks. and really, it's just so hard to come into terms with things and i need input lest i accidentally get into a year or two of hiatus, lmaoo.

[josephquinnswhore]

the consequence of us

dbf! joel miller x female reader

summary: joel broke off your affair two weeks ago, and now he realises he’s made a grave mistake.

word count: 3.4K

content warning: age gap, joel is old enough to be her dad, reader is mid twenties but unspecified. Reader has cellulite, mentions of power play, Joel’s a bit of a creep lmao, possessive, obsessive behaviour, use of baby girl & daddy dynamic. Collaring, male masterbation, p in v, raw fucking, creampie, sorta rough sex, public sex, submission. (no outbreak)

Everyone has felt the eerie sensation once in their lifetime, the paranoid feeling of being stared at; only this time, you know you're being stared at. Everytime you bend down to pick up a discarded beer can off your fathers perfectly mowed lawn, with each soft handed gesture on one of your fathers older friends arms, every laugh that seemed a little too real.

But it was your intention, for him to notice you. Perhaps to show him that you could indeed live without him, despite the fact that two weeks ago, on his front porch you'd been weeping, grasping onto him as you beg him not to break things off with you.

The shameful memory of snot and tears mingling as you sobbed on your knees for another chance, like you’d even done anything wrong. Clinging onto the small silver chain he'd gifted you - a subtle everyday collar, one he’d promised with the intention of making you his, properly.

That someday he would make you his girl officially.

This evening, it seemed as though that girl had never existed, maybe it was all a figment of his imagination, of how he saw you, and wanted you to be. A sweet little girl dependent on him.

Joel had managed with teeth scraping against his bottom lip that this was for the best, that a sweet girl like you didn't need him invading your personal life, or that this was wrong, for a man twenty years older than you–let alone the fact that he was your fathers best friend.

Now as he watches you standing next to your fathers friends, with a middle aged woman on his arm, he feels sick to his stomach. You should be doing this with him, the shameless flirting, touching and sneakily bending over for him when no one else seemed to notice. It's like now, you didn't care who saw. Any attention was yours for the taking, and that repulsed joel.

The sweet girl he knew wasn't some attention starved daddies girl dying to fuck every single one of his colleagues and friends, Joel was special, had been.

What was this then, revenge? An attempt to outshine the woman he had on his arm that was closer to sixty than he was. No doubt, his date–Sue. She was beautiful, but she was too outgoing, too loud, too chatty. She drank too many glasses of wine and clung onto joel like he was some kind of prized show dog. Much like that mangy purse mutt she had at her house. Joel didn't belong with Sue, in her middle class house and aggressive teacup chihuahua.

The only place he had ever felt himself belong was with you, a subservient, submissive and sweet girl, did anything Joel had ever asked, found pleasure in being submissive. Maybe he did ruin you, turned you into some kind of modern day sexually aware woman that knew that she was too good for him anymore.

Once again, you're bending over to reach into the large cooler in your fathers shed not bothering to pull down your dress, Joel's eyes were drawn to the sight like a hound. He felt himself growing stiff at the sight of your asscheeks barely covered by the tight dress, each curve, hill and cellulite dimple could be seen leaving nothing to the imagination besides one thing.

What colour panties were you wearing?

“Excuse me a moment, won't you?” He utters to sue under his breath, prying her clinging arm off of his own and approaching you across the lawn, swerving between guests. Before he could reach you, you've left the shed, three cans of drink in hand as you hand them out to your father and two of his friends.

Joel scowls, snatching a cold can out of the cooler and watching you shamelessly across the front yard. He couldn't stop staring at you, your legs, the way your hips swing with every step. It was a fucking nightmare knowing that he had done this, created this confident vixen hell bent on torturing him. He couldn't grab at you, swiftly text you to steal you away for a few minutes for a quickie in the bathroom.

He had ended this, told you it was for good, for real this time.

You know he hasn't been able to take his eyes off of you, and finding your stomach, you approach his date later on in the evening after she's had a few drinks and is standing by her lonesome. “Hi, we haven't met, have we? You're Susan?”

The older woman greets you with a look of complete indifference, a non subtle judging stare in her olden glassy eyes as she gives you a look up and down. “Sue, actually, and you are?”

You reply with your name, giving her a sickly sweet and fake smile, standing tall and rolling your shoulders backwards, ready to cause some strife for the old hag. “So.. you're Joel’s.. what exactly..?”

The disbelief in your tone had the woman feeling insulted, and the stiff look of her face gave that away. She seemed incredibly insecure, you noticed the way she had clung onto Joel since they got here. “We’ve been talking for a while, I’ve heard he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend soon.”

A small snort escapes your nose, and before the woman could drill into you about your reaction..

“Oh you know.. He's just not that good with relationships you know? Totally a ladies man, he likes ‘em young–or younger than you, anyway. So don't hope too much that Joel even likes you at all..anyway, it was so lovely meeting you.”

You hear the woman huff loudly as you abruptly turn and walk away, knowing that you caused an absolute shit fire for Joel to deal with tonight, but you didn't expect Sue to start screaming at Joel the moment you walked away from her.

He sends a glare to you, across the yard, his eyes dark and furious. You were the cause of this, he knew it. As Sue screams at him, he drags her away, down the street.

It's a while before Joel returns, but he comes back alone, explaining to your father what happened. “She's having a moment, probably menopause or something.”

That was hilarious to you, and Joel catches you laughing, beelining straight to you. He grabs your hand, which you shake off, and he doesn't attempt to make another effort to grab you.

“The hell was that? Are you gonna start causing issues for me now?”

With a faux innocent tilt of your head you shrug your shoulders. “I'm sorry, I was just being honest with her, is honesty a problem now, Mr Miller?”

He shouldn't have gotten hard over such a minor thing, being called Mr Miller instead of Joel, that doe-ish look in your eyes as you look up at him, he cant help the stiffness in his jeans return again. Of course you notice the tension, the way he becomes uncomfortable, but you don't dignify him by looking at the thick bulge in his pants, not bothering to show any interest at all.

That.. is what bothers Joel the most. Your disinterest.

His eyes are glued to your every step as you walk away, he subtly palms himself through his jeans and makes his way inside of the house with the intent to wash his face and try to calm down the raging hardness of his cock, but when he smells your perfume in the bathroom.. He loses any sense of control he thought he had.

It was the same perfume you'd spritzed onto your skin before sneaking out to see him all those times, the floral scent lingering on your warm velvety neck. He locks the bathroom door behind him, looking at himself in the mirror. “Get a grip, Miller. She's done with you, you're done with her.”

He quickly contradicts his hollow whisper as he picks up a pair of used black panties on the top of the laundry basket, ones he knew were yours, the soft lace g-string, with a silver love heart on the front, covered in small diamonds, ones he had pulled to the side more times to fuck your hole than he could remember.

It's a desperate and shameful act, he knows, but doesn’t care. He desperately unzips his jeans and pulls out his thick, weeping cock from his jeans, stroking desperately. The other hand holds your panties and he looks at himself as he brings the lace material to his nose and smells it. They're used, and he pulls his cock faster as he shoves the material further into his face, a wet patch on your panties is all he can feel.

The smell of you has him groaning into the lace, desperately fisting his cock faster than he ever had. His knees buckle and he whimpers quietly as he starts sucking on the delicious soaking crotch of your panties as he doubles over the sink and spills a thick load, shooting across the basin.

Joel's sweating, taking one last inhale of your panties, before tossing them back into the laundry hamper, stuffing his softening cock into his jeans before turning on the tap to wash away any evidence of the violating act. He cups his hands under the running water and splashes some onto his face.

As he swings the bathroom door open, you're standing there with a shit eating grin. “All good in there?”

“Fine,” he utters, wondering if you knew, he couldn't meet your gaze after what he’d just done.

Fuck, you were evil for making him like this.

By midnight, everyone had gone home, stumbled off down the cul de sac to their houses, but you don't see Joel leave, which is strange. With your father inside of the house, and the lights shut off, you sneak out of the yard with your phone in hand, texting your friend with the intention of going to her house to drink, walking down the pathway down the street to where your car is parked.

Oblivious, you reach your car and are shocked to see Joel, leaning against the driver's side door. “Where do you think you’re going?” The growl sends a shiver up your spine, a feeling you miss.

“Out,” Joel towers over you as he stands upright, no longer leaning against your car.

“Like hell you are.” There's an edge of possessiveness to his tone, and the way he stands over you. “You need to explain yourself, all that shit you've been doing tonight.”

“I don't have to explain shit–” he cuts you off, his hand shoots out quickly to grab onto your hand. But you react without thinking and slap him.

His eyes snap shut from the force of your hand on his cheek, your hand now stinging from the contact. When he opens his eyes, his gaze is darker than before. He wraps his arms around your waist, grabbing a hold of you as he shoves you roughly against the side of your car door, you wince as your back makes contact with the cold metal. He stands flush against you, whispering in your ear as he cranes his neck downward.

“Careful. You shouldn't start something’ you can't finish baby girl.”

“I’m not your baby girl.”

God-if only you knew how much that struck a nerve within him. “Don't start that.” His voice is harsh, fingers digging tighter into the soft flesh of your chin.

“You're nothing to me.” You insist.

He bit back, his temper flailing. “Yeah? You really tryin’ to convince me that I ain't anythin’ to you, baby girl? That you don't care no more?” His thumb grips your chin harshly, jolting your neck up to look into his eyes.

There's a challenging look in your eyes, defiance, no sign of the devotion or submission he's so used to with you, he really has ruined you.

“Move Joel.”

He knew if he could just manage to get a peep out of you, a small whine or a moan out of you, that he could draw you back into him. His hand trails downward to your nipples, pinching softly, he knew it was such a sensitive area for you, which usually had your back arching.

You should have reacted, whimpered and squirmed or let out a small whine from those pretty lips that he was so used to hearing when he touched you like this. But you gave him nothing, no reaction at all, how did he let this happen? “Why the hell are you bein’ like this? Why are you fightin’’ me so hard?”

“Because I realised something, Joel.” Stepping forward, you bring your hand down to his belt, grabbing onto the buckle.

“And what is it that you think you have figured out?”

“It’s you who needs me.”

He couldn't even deny it, how his stomach felt sick at the thought of you knowing. That somehow you knew that this went beyond physical for him too. When he's silent, you roughly shove him away by the buckle of his belt. Stumbling a few feet back, he hated how weak he felt right now.

“You’re old, Joel. You love how it feels to have someone so much younger to pine over you, that's why things won't last with that old cunt, sue. Part of you needs me, joel, that why you were so fucking insistent on pushing me away.”

He freezes at your observation, words that are sharp, and true. Gritting his teeth, with his chest rising and falling, all he could do was breathe heavily.

“But me? I have options, time too. To find someone who would be proud to show me off. But you won't, you’re scared Joel, and it's because you're insecure.”

He feared this, thinking about you with men your own age, how they threw themselves at you, fit and capable of taking you out and giving you everything you ever wanted. Joel was selfish for wanting you all to himself, for craving you, obsessing and unable to let you move on. Because as long as even a part of you still wanted him, he was worth something. The grey hairs didn't matter, nor did his softening belly or the developing ache in his worn knees.

He hated how much he needed you.

You grip his chin, the salt and pepper scruff tickles your palm. Forcing him to look at you. “Say it Joel.”

His entire body tenses as you try to force the admission out of him, try to cut him open and deflower his tightly wound emotions. “Stop it.” He growls weakly, voice strained.

“Admit it!” You shout at him.

Every part of him begged for him to let go of this stubborn defiance and tell you how he felt, that he felt afraid, even though all he'd known was keeping you at arm's length. “Stop!”

With another harsh shove, you growl. “Just admit it!”

“Admit what? That I'm insecure, that I’m afraid of losing you? That every moment all I can think about is you, how much I fucking love you? What are you tryin’ to get out of me, huh?”

As his chest heaves, he can't help spilling out how he felt now, you broke the dam. “I worry that you'll find some other man to love you, touch you. That you'll come to your senses and realise you need someone your own age who is better able to take care of you.”

“So you broke my heart? That's how you face those fears?”

“The hell was I supposed to do?” With a defensive snap, he hated the weakness he felt now that you’d expelled the truth.

When you don't have an answer Joel is becoming more desperate for you to feel something for him, to let him know that there's still some space in your heart for him after all hed done.”Baby girl..” he whimpers, voice cracking with emotion..

“Don’t,” you protest weakly.

Joel realises that you don’t need him like this, all self doubting, you need your daddy.

He cages your body between his own and the car. “Too damn bad, because I’m touchin you, you ain’t rejectin’ me, you ain't gonna ignore me.” He leans his head down to your level. “And you sure as shit aint ever fucking leavin’ me.”

As he slams his hips against yours, finally a pathetically small whimper leaves your lips.

There it was, you were giving into him, that pretty sound he hadn't heard from you in weeks. “There's my pretty girl,” he whispers against the soft flesh of your neck.

“Don't fight me baby girl..” his lips on your neck have your back arching away from the car, leaning flush against Joel’s chest, but he doesn't want you to have any semblance of control. Roughly, he spins you around and shoves your body against the car, his chest flush against your back.

His hands unzip his jeans, pulling out his thick cock for a second time this evening, lifting your dress up to find you weren't wearing any panties at all, his eyes barely able to process the sight of your bare sopping cunt under the haphazard dim street light. “You knew what you were doin’ to me baby, wearing this tight dress and no panties.”

The palm of his hand smacks your wet lips, using the slick to coat his cock as he pumps it a few times.

His cock is thicker than you remember and you whine at the protrusion, forcing his cock inside of you as he forces you against the side of your car. A yelp leaves your lips and he quickly covers your mouth with his large hand. “Shh baby girl.. Daddy is gonna take you in the middle of the street, as a punishment for your actions. Don't want nobody to hear, do we?”

Frantically, you shake your head no, and he shakily praises you. “That's a good girl.”

Without any warning at all, he slams his cock into you, pushing your face into the car as he rams into you ferociously, fucking into you so deep that your eyesight starts to blur. “Think you can leave me? No body ain’t ever gonna fuck you like I do, baby girl.”

You squeal into his hand as he fucks you harder than he ever had, proving to you and himself that he was worthy of you. As your legs begin to tremble, Joel brings his other hand to pinch your nipple, and the orgasm crashes over you in waves, the feeling is intense and your body is limp between Joel and the car. Tears leave your eyes as your cunt clenches around Joel.

Joel's muttering under his breath. “That's it baby.. Make daddy feel so good. I'll kill anyone if they ever try to take you away.”

His thick cock pushes so deep inside of you for a final time as the tip twitches and he cums inside of you. Growling into your ear as his forehead rests on your shoulder.

Hesitant to pull out, he thrusts a few more times into you, making sure most of his cum stays inside you.

Pulling your dress down, he stuffs his cock back into his jeans and turns you around, wiping the steady tears off your cheeks. “Now go on back inside, alright? We’re going on a date tomorrow, a real one. Take you to a fancy place where we’ll sit down an’ eat. Just us. Daddy ain’t gonna leave you again, so that means you start wearin’ your collar again.”

Numbly, you nod, unable to form coherent words after the encounter. Pleased, he kisses your forehead, then gives your ass a light pat to send you on your way back inside your house. He stalks you down the street, making sure you get home safely, before retreating into his own house.

He watches you from his bedroom window as you turn on the dim lamp, and put on your silver collar just as he’d asked. He had his baby back, hell would freeze over before anything came between you, if your father found out.. Joel would handle him when it came to that.

No matter what that entails.