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mrsmandalorian · 2 days

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burning love

-- angst one shot jackson!joel miller x f! reader

summary: a secret affair goes a little too far.

main masterlist / word count: 7.8k

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, outbreak!AU, CHEATING, spoilers to TLOU season 2, age-gap relationship, angst!, smut!!!, p in v, fingering, nipple play, sexual teasing, a lot of making out, use of words like pussy, cock, pet names ( baby, baby girl, angel), language, burning building, intense near-death situation.

a/n: howdy loves! this story comes from many places of inspiration from the new season 2 picture to the many fics and tiktoks of the voice memos from "calls" of pedro. i hope you guys all enjoy it! leave me a like, comment, or reblog to show your love. much love to you all - maddie!

The winter snow was finally drying up as the town of Jackson prepared for warmer months. Business in the sewing shop started to slow down a little more since people tended not to care as much for the holes in their clothes in warmer weather. You found more time to catch up on your romance novels and daydreaming. The time was also filled with making alterations to your soon-to-be wedding dress. You were finally set to have an official wedding with your husband, Tripp. You both had considered each other married a long time ago.

You and Tripp had been from a small town in Kansas. Your families were neighbors and fought together for the first fifteen years of the apocalyptic world. You both were only thirteen years old when the world went to shit. Your parents had always set you two up to marry one another. All you knew was Tripp; he was your first kiss, sex, boyfriend, and now husband. You each had to risk your lives for one another at a time or two. He was always there for you like a good man should be for his wife.

The two of you ended up in Jackson after five years of being on your own after your families had gotten infected or passed away from natural causes. Your families were doomsday preppers that had been right about the world. They had turned your neighborhood into a safe place. You and Tripp had stayed in Kansas for two years until the Raiders came. Luckily, Tripp had seen them early, and you could escape with many supplies.

Once escaping, the two of you survived another six months, savaging around for a safe place to lay your head. Sadly, some raiders had caught up with you. Tripp had saved your life from becoming their little toy, but he was severely injured. The infection from the wound had almost killed him. The memory of those days was the most terrifying time of your life. You would be left alone in this lonely, broken world. You were a strong woman. You could make it out there for a while, but you knew you would give up hope. You had almost entirely given up as a group of strangers came riding up on horses to the little house that you had dragged Tripp’s incapacitated body to. The riders went through the house with guns and masks covering half of their faces. You wept as you begged them not to kill you or your husband. He was not infected. You had screamed as they pushed a gun up to his head.

The woman in the group had pulled down her mask, making you less intimidated. She told you she believed you and would help you—only if you would help her. She had seen your supplies and knew you had to have more somewhere. You told her where your childhood neighborhood was and where they could find more supplies if there were any.

Maria had taken you and Tripp into their small town of Jackson and cared for you both. Luckily, Tripp was fully recovered, and both had been given a beautiful place to call home with all the usual life amenities and jobs to occupy your time.

Tripp had taken a job working in many roles and worked himself up to join the Jackson council. He was brilliant for his age and wanted to help others, especially those who saved their lives. He cared to see this place flourish and play a significant role in the community while you liked your small role and tasks and enjoyed the comfort of your cozy home.

After a year of living in Jackson, Tripp decided to make things official with you. He had gotten everything organized with the help of the ladies in town. They had found a beautiful wedding gown for you and wedding bands customized for the two of you.

You would have never dreamed of having an everyday life after the world went to shit—the dream of enjoying your novels with a warm fire and not worrying about your next meal. Your life was near perfect with your fantastic husband.

As you got comfortable in this new life, you realized that your love for Tripp was not what you read in your books. You both came together at night to the same bed, sometimes ending in an intimate moment. It felt like a chore. Everything started to feel like a chore with him, but he’s all you have ever known and cared for. He was so good and loyal to you that you thought wrong for not feeling the same. You were comfortable with him.

Three months after coming to Jackson, a patrol group returned from savaging and visiting your childhood neighbors. Maria’s husband, Tommy, was one of the groups Tripp had introduced you to that evening, along with a few others, including Tommy’s brother, Joel.

At your first impression of Joel, you were scared of the gossip Maria had told you once when you went to her house. His facial expression and personality did not help make you more comfortable with him. From what you could see and hear, he was a dangerous, angry man with a past.

You met his daughter, Ellie, in the sewing shop one day as she brought in some of her and his clothes that had holes. She spoke highly about her father figure and told you how hard he had it. Her words made you sympathetic to him, so you kept an eye on him.

Joel did notice your eye on him. He kept one on you as well. He had learned your routine along with your soon-to-be husbands so he could spy on you without worrying about being seen. He finally got the courage to face you after Ellie complained that her favorite jacket didn’t fit her as well anymore, and she didn't have time to go to the sewing shop.

Joel took the chore for himself because he would get to see you. The interaction was the most awkward conversation ever. You had noticed him enter the shop without saying anything. You sat at the window with your eyes glued to the words of your smutty book, but your focus was on the man holding clothes at the counter, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Hello, I brought some of Ellie’s clothes to be altered if that’s okay.” He shyly grumbled under his breath, which he couldn’t catch. He tried hard not to stare at you too long where you sat reading one of your books that you always had your nose into. He went to the library after you returned some books once and read a few chapters. He was jealous of Tripp of what he was reading, wondering if you were getting ideas for the bedroom from these stories. He thought about those ideas a lot as well but with you.

You had finally gotten your nose out of your book and helped him with his armload of clothes. You awkwardly gave him an estimate of the time you would need and tried not to stare into his big brown eyes too long. You both only exchanged a few words, and then he left. The tension in the room was something you had never felt before. You almost felt embarrassed by how Joel’s appearance made you feel as you stumbled on your words, and your hands slightly shook as you took the clothes and handed him a receipt.

Joel also felt embarrassed about not speaking to you as much as he wished. He turned into a shy, blushing guy when it came to you. You were the most natural, beautiful person he had met in a long time. He could feel the warmth that you only shared with a few. The two of you were more similar than you would think, but you were still good, and he was terrible.

Your heart stung a little when Ellie showed up a few days later to pick up her clothes. You had dressed up nicely that day, finally giving yourself the courage to speak to Joel Miller. You had even hidden the small ring Tripp had given you long ago in the pocket of your jeans as you heard the bell ring on the door.

After Ellie left, you cursed yourself and placed the ring back onto your left hand. How could you think of another man that way and hurt a man who loves you as much as Tripp did? Your guilt from the action had driven you into bed with Tripp that night as you tried to make your thoughts of Joel disappear and fall back into love with your soon-to-be husband. The plan had worked until you were on the way to your shop and saw Joel Miller waiting outside the door waiting on you.

You slowly went to the shop and breathed deeply to calm your nerves. “Good morning, Joel. Ellie picked up her clothes yesterday.” you quickly muttered to him as you unlocked the shop door. He stepped aside nervously and to get out of the way of the door. You go inside, but his foot catches the door before it closes behind you. You look to meet his eyes quickly.

“I know. I came to see if you could help me with a present,” he replied quickly as you held eye contact, which made you lightly blush as you looked away.

“Sure,” you muttered, moving out of the way to let him inside the shop. “Yeah, I can probably help. Who's the present for?” you asked as you turned away and felt his presence following to the back of the shop as you set down your bags. You felt a little touched and excited that Joel brought you something to help him with.

Joel runs his hands together nervously, too occupied watching to answer your question. He shook himself out of his daze as he met your beautiful eyes. “Oh, it’s for Tommy and Maria for the baby,” he answered and looked around the store at some of the projects you had up for trade.

“Well, I sewed some smaller blankets and toys the other week, which would be perfect for a little babe,” you quickly answered and rushed over to the dedicated section of the shop for children. “I crafted her a good number of outfits for my present, but I think this neutral blanket would be perfect.”

He follows you and glances at your incredible craftsmanship. He ran his thick fingers over the soft fabric of the blankets, accidentally touching your hand as you reached for the blanket you described to him. Your hands didn't jerk away but had a quiet moment of your eyes meeting. Your suppressed thoughts came rushing through your mind from the contact, along with Joel’s fantasy from your smutty books. You quickly pull your hand away as you grab the blanket for him and walk swiftly to the counter.

“I could gift wrap this blanket for you as well,” you offered as you set the blanket on the counter and glanced at the broad man. He seems lost in thought as he looks through the other clothing offered at the shop.

Joel thought of things to bring up as he glanced through the clothing. He stopped and saw a familiar shirt in the racks that looked like one of Sarah’s favorite shirts. He ran his large hand over his face to shield his emotions from anyone's view.

You stood at the counter and watched his expression fall before he covered his face. Your curiosity and worry made you instantly frown at the thought of a distraught Joel. He continued to browse the shop as you wrapped the gift, keeping a close eye on him. He eventually strolled back up to the counter, still looking deep in thought and full of emotion on his brows.

“I got everything wrapped for you,” you offer him a gentle smile and walk around the counter to hand him the decorated present. His hands gently take the present from your hands as they gaze at each other; the emotion on his face pains you. You inadvertently held onto his hand and met his eyes. “Joel,” you mutter quickly, “I just wanted you to know if you need anyone to talk to about anything. Before, after, or current events. I’m here for you.”

Joel’s eyes were full of desperation and raw emotion. His heart in his chest dropped into his stomach. He had to tell himself to catch his breath as he struggled to speak. “Thanks,” he nodded quickly as he met your eyes. His thoughts were racing through his mind as your hand remained on his.

You nervously bite your lip as you slowly remove your hand from his calloused one. Joel nodded his head to say farewell. Once, he reached the other side of the door and took a deep breath. He caught himself smiling on the way back home.

For you, the awkward ending to the conversation made you worried that you tried too hard and scared him away. The interaction was on your mind for the rest of the day and the rest of the week.

It took Joel four days to get the courage to show his face inside the shop again. He went inside after seeing Tripp go into the council meeting, which usually lasted an hour or two. He stepped into the shop with light footsteps, heading straight to the counter. You walked out of the back, not hearing the doorbell. You had your wedding dress in hand, stopping dead in your tracks as you saw Joel Miller waiting for you. “Oh, hello, Joel. I didn’t hear you come in,” you scramble around and lay down your dress on the other side of the counter. “What can I help you with today?”

He gives you a slight smile as he watches you scramble. “ Um, I just came in to accept your offer,” he nervously says, wiping his hands on his jeans. The rest of the interaction was the best conversation you have ever had. The conversation started with many nerves, but once he sat down with you to enjoy coffee. He had opened up to you as you did with him. The two of you ended the conversation with a plan to do this again soon.

It was sooner than you thought when he came strolling into the shop three days later with free pastries in hand. Meeting twice a week became the new norm for you two. You had never told Tripp about these secret meetings with Joel in the shop. It was all innocent…until it wasn’t.

The tone of your relationship with Joel changed one evening as he helped you move some racks in the store. You had accidentally hit your head on the pole of the rack. Both laughed well, but Joel got to your level to check out the goose egg. The interaction moved slowly, eyes meeting as you both smiled big at the accident. The proximity of your faces made you catch your breath, mainly because of the growing tension. Before you know it, his warm lips met yours. Neither of you pulled away, letting your hands meet his face's sides. The kiss was the most passionate kiss you had experienced.

After a few moments, you jerked your lips from his and stood up quickly as you hit your head again. You let out a groan of agony and rubbed your head, “I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have done that,” you muttered as he helped you up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he uttered as his concerned eyes met yours. “Is your head okay?”

“You didn’t upset me at all. It was very nice. I, um, I don’t know. My head’s fine.” you giggled nervously and rubbed your goose egg on your head. He quickly found a plastic bag and ice to assist you with your injury. The silence spoke volumes as you both danced around each other and the kiss.

“I thought it was nice too. I’m sorry that I did it. I won’t do it again,” he pleaded as he started to get all his stuff together to leave. You quickly moved your way to him and laid a hand over his.

“Joel,” you muttered, nervously biting your lip as you cupped his cheek. Your eyes met his, and your lips met again as well. This kiss was a little more chaotic as his large hands met your hips. The passionate scene began as he pulled you in him and leaned you against the small table as he took control of the kiss. Your breathing was in unison as you hungrily groped at one another.

After a few moments, you pulled away and touched his chest. “No one can know,” you yelled out as he eased off of you.

He nodded, keeping his large hand on your hips as he pulled you into one more peck. “You don’t know how long I have dreamed of your lips,” he mutters against your lips and gives you one more peck for good measure.

His comment makes you blush as you think the same thoughts as the two of you who have grown closer to one another. “I’m serious, Joel. Not even Ellie can know of this. And no feelings either. I’m getting married in less than a month. It has to end before that,” you sternly say as you gesture between them.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbles as he pulls off of you and collects his stuff after seeing that the sun is about to set, which means Tripp will return from patrol soon. “Our little secret,” he winks at you with a smirk.

You teasingly roll your eyes at the broad man as he heads towards the door. “See ya later, Joel.” You let out as he gives you a wave and a wink. You sit at the little table and shake your head as you start blushing at the memories. The guilt was starting to set in, but the excitement of the thrill coexisted.

The subsequent few interactions with Joel happened inside the shop when Tripp had gone out to patrol or into a meeting. Only a little happened besides the make-out session with slow hands. You would talk about how you were feeling or the memories in the conversation.

The first time you two had decided to take your secret relationship to the next level, you had to be planned out, not in the romantic sense, but in the privacy sense. Joel’s naughty, sweet nothings had made you want to wait until you could fully enjoy your pleasures with one another instead of a few quickies.

After breakfast in the dining hall, you sat with Tripp and his patrol group as they discussed plans for their two-day savaging trip, which they would take up to a region they hadn’t explored recently. Families had given them requests for specific supplies and to watch for anything wedding-themed.

Your quick eye contact with Joel as everyone prepped their horses for the trip sent a shiver down your spine. Your legs squeezed together in anticipation of lying with your secret lover.

Tripp had pulled you into a loving hug and quick peck as he pledged to see you soon, hopefully with a surprise. The caring remarks squeezed your gut with guilt as you returned the loving looks, even if they were semi-fake.

Joel had disappeared before the horses left the gate, heading home to avoid making your plan too apparent to others. After poking around town for an extra fifteen minutes, you made your way down the street of homes with your hands full of a fake decoy of clothes that you might be delivered to someone. Only a few people wandered the streets at this hour.

Relief radiated from you as you stepped onto Joel’s doorstep's old wood. As you slipped inside, you knew the door was unlocked. The house was a comfortable temperature to discard your coat. You heard loud footsteps upstairs as you made your way up them. “Joel, I’m here,” you quietly announced.

His broad frame slips from what you would guess was his room, and he is wearing only an undershirt and his jeans. Seeing his large muscles and chest peeking out of the short-sleeved shirt made you turn red like a tomato. He looked sexier this way (which you didn’t think could be possible). “Well, hello there, gorgeous,” he says as his large hands find their familiar rhythm on your hips, pulling you closer to his toned body.

“I’m nervous,” you quickly admit to him as you chew on your lip. His eyes watched as your teeth sucked your lips with desperation, darkening from his thoughts. “I’ve only been with one person, and we could be doing everything wrong,” you joke nervously. His thumb runs against your cheek as he cups your face.

“You’re going to be just fine, angel. I’m going to teach you a thing or two, I bet,” Joel whispers against your lips as he lands his plush lips against yours.

You quickly pull away, looking up at him. “Well, I’m ready whenever you are.” The nerves were getting the best of you as you wanted it to end.

“Slow down, angel. You are supposed to enjoy the foreplay. Do you know what foreplay is?” He asks as he pushes your body more against the wall.

“Of course I do. My books discuss foreplay, but I’ve always been too nervous to ask Tripp about it. I usually just touch Tripp a little and spit on my hand to wet myself and him, then we fuck.” You explain the way of your everyday sex life. It was all you knew how it went in the real world; your smutty books seemed like fantasy to the realism of your bedroom time. Tripp didn’t know of the dirty little books you were reading.

Joel chuckles as his large thumb runs against your partially opened lips, towering over you with a hungry look in his eye. The weeks of intimate make-outs and slow hands have worked up the anticipation. He is pulling you into a passionate kiss, holding you against the wall. One hand cupped and kept your face still; the other pressed against the wall above your head, enclosing you against the wall.

He nibbles on your lower lip, pulling on your lip until you let out a moan and distracting you from the work of his hands as they move down your body. “So many things to teach you, angel. You look mighty beautiful today,” he whispers against your lips as his fingers gaze at the edges of your dress, causing goosebumps to spread over your body. “I know we already discussed boundaries and safe words, but I want to hear it from you again.”

You were so caught up in the tension and his wandering hands that you nodded your head along with what he said while you processed it. “Oh, um, yellow means uncomfortable. Red means stop,” you mumble to him as your cheeks glow red.

“Good girl,” he groans as his fingers go up the skirt of your dress, running against your thighs full of goosebumps. He uses his pointer finger to run across your mound, “someone’s excited for this to happen.” He smirked as his dark eyes held heavy eye contact as he watched your reactions to his touch.

You let out a shaky breath as you try to untense your body. He started to kiss down your neck, which caused you to lean your head to the side. His worn face and kisses and nibbles cause you to let out a light moan against him. His fingers tease you as you push your hips into his palm.

“Let’s move to the bedroom, beautiful,” he whispers against your skin as he gropes your ass. You nod in agreement because you can’t use your words.

He guides you into his clean bedroom. The bed looks like it was quickly made after he got up this morning. Sunlight peeks through his blinds, lighting the room well. He guides you to the edge of the bed, where his fingers find the zipper of your dress. He meets your eyes for approval and a dirty, smug look.

The anticipation of seeing you naked has been itching at Joel for weeks. His fingers delicately unzip you from your dress, leaving you in your undergarments. They were nothing special, but the look on Joel’s face would make you think that you had the sexiest Victoria's Secret lingerie on. Your cheeks turned a new shade of pink, and he asked quickly for consent to continue his work. He palms at your clothed breast gently, then gradually becomes more aggressive. You let out small sounds of pleasure as he works at your breast. He leans in to kiss you sweetly, continuing down to your neck and chest. He licked and kissed down your neck to chest, fingers finding the clasps of your bra.

You started to feel the guilt of not pleasuring Joel. You ran your hand up to cup his face, which caused him to look desperate, giving you a second of control. You ran your fingers through his hair and pulled slightly as his fingers finally opened your bra. It fell down your shoulder; he pulled it wholly off your chest. The cold air contact made you whimper, making Joel’s desperate eyes change to a more dominant dark look.

He takes control quickly, setting you down on the bed. He pulls your legs through your panties and starts to kiss your breast, groping the other as he works. His clothed hips sat against yours as you lay on the edge of the bed. His hardened member pulsing against your core, your hands nervously find their way down to him. You rub him through his jeans as you think of a dirty idea.

You wrap your naked body around him, “Will you flip me on top, baby? I wanna try something,” you whimper out to him, which causes him to grin like a villain. He quickly flips and takes his shirt off.

“Do you want me to take my jeans off? They might be a little uncomfortable to sit on,” he quickly says as he doesn’t lean back yet onto the bed. His hands grip your waist to support you, looking up to you for a response.

“No, keep them on,” you mumble back with a light blush. You had never taken control of anything in the bedroom; your dirty thoughts were finally answered. You perched your slit right on top of his clothed member, which caused Joel to let out a shaky breath. He could not keep his eyes off your body and face, smirking like the luckiest man in the world.

You grind your hips against his clothed half, letting out a slight moan from the contact. His hands grip your ass as you continue. The contact from the jeans on your bare pussy was more intense than you thought. You continued to grind until you lost control for a few. Joel sat back and enjoyed watching you pleasure yourself on him.

“Maybe take your jeans off,” you blushed after enjoying yourself. You sat up for him to take them off, helping him unbuckle himself. You gawked at the size of him through his white underwear, swallowing hard as you nervously thought of how he would fit inside of you. He pulls his jeans off, leaning up to meet you in a passionate, messy kiss and holding your naked body against his.

“Look how wet you are for me, baby girl,” he mumbles against you as he pulls up the crotch of his jeans. The sign of your pleasure makes him more horny and want to show you more pleasure. He enjoys the sight of the bright blush and tries to hide your face as you giggle from him, calling out the wetness of his jeans. “I think I want to see for myself,” he bites his lip as he gently sets you on your side beside him. His fingers run up your thighs and gently spread your legs apart as you twist onto your back. You slowly allow him to spread your legs, admiring all of you. “Jesus, baby, soaking wet for me.”

He runs over your pussy lips with his large fingers, stimulating your clit with his other thumb. He smirked as you squirmed from the sensation, arching your back slightly. He continues to tease your sensitive exterior until you beg him for more. Between shaky breaths and moans, you met eyes with Joel as he smirked down at your pleasure, seeing him palming himself from your noises.

Joel finally reached up to your lips as you sucked on his fingers for a few moments, which caused him to let out a groan as you made flirty eye contact with him. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and slowly inserts them into your wet sensitive pussy. Your hand finds the sheets quickly as you moan for Joel. He starts a deep rhythm into you as his thumb works your clit. He whispers sweet nothings to you as he admires your current state. You grind yourself against his motions, which causes more intense pleasure.

“Fuck, Joel, I think I’m gonna cum,” you let out a desperate cry as you were confused by the new pressure Joel was showing you. You had touched yourself to your fantasies and done it to yourself, but this was much different (and better).

“You think? Has a man never made you cum?” he asks with a smug look as he continues to pleasure you, inserting another finger as you cry in pleasure. You shake your head no to him as your hands find your pebbly nipples and run your fingers across them. Joel watches you intensely grind against him and play with your nipples. He could almost cum in his pants from the sight. Your shaky breath and hip motions increase as he continues to finger fuck, “You got it, baby girl. Being such a good girl for me. Cum on my fingers,” he praises you until you let out a sharp yelp of pleasure and came on his fingers.

You throw yourself onto the mattress as you try to catch your breath. “Holy shit,” you mumble and look up to Joel as he slowly pulls his fingers out of your glossy pussy. He brings his wet fingers to his mouth and licks one clean with a moan of pleasure.

“Such a good girl. You taste as good as I thought,” he says as he smirks, cleaning you off his fingers.

Your eyes wander down to his package, and you bite your bottom lip at the sight of his throbbing member. You reach your hand up to him, leaning forward. You take his long shaft into your hand and palm him gently. Joel’s head throws back from the contact, groaning in pleasure.

Everything moves quickly from this moment on. You help Joel take his underwear off and pump his pre-cum leaking cock. You lean over and give his tip a dramatic kiss as you look up to meet his dark eyes. You eventually guide him inside your mouth for a few moments to give him a little loving.

He lets out a loud moan as he grips your hair, as you use your mouth to please him immensely. You pull off of him with a prominent chin on your face, which he cups and gives you a messy kiss. Before you know it, he flips you onto your knees, and he is behind you now. He gropes at your breast, and his sizeable naked cock grinds against your ass. “Are you ready, angel?” he asks as he leans you up to each other and waits for your response.

“Yes, Joel, more than ready,” you giggle to him as your legs shake in anticipation. One of his large hands wraps around the hip to your front, holding you against him. He lined up their bodies, inserting his thick head into you. Your head throws back in pleasure as he slowly inserts himself fully into you. “Joel, fuck,” you let the whimper as you let your body fall against his as he starts to thrust slowly into you.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks into your ear as he slows his actions for your response.

“You're so big, Joel, but you feel so good,” you breathly moan at him, grinding your hips into his thurst.

“You're taking me so well, baby girl. Feels so good,” he groans in pleasure as his grip on your hips tightens, thrusting deep.

The intimate fucking lasted until nightfall, with many orgasms occurring. At the end of the moment, Joel and you are lying on your backs, trying to catch your breath as you giggle with one another.

“That was better than I could ever imagine, baby girl. ,” he says as he holds you close and kisses your neck. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him, rubbing your breasts against him.

Joel helped you wash off and prepare to go home for the night. The interaction was friendly and a promise to continue to see each other in the morning to fuck again. The following day was full of more pleasure and many, many orgasms.

Tripp came home, and you were terrified that he would notice a change or something off, but he didn’t. Everything seemed the same as it was before he left.

Joel and you still met twice a week inside the shop. Some of the visits ended with you bent over the table in the back or riding him in the chair.

One of the risky quickies you had was on a movie night in town. Everyone had gone ahead, and Joel said he would stay home, but you told everyone that you had forgotten something at home. You met at a secret secluded spot in town. Joel fucked you hard as he covered your mouth with his large hand, fully clothed.

The secret sex affair had never felt like it played the line of emotional attachment until one evening.

You had been informed of an old craft store the groups had found savaging for supplies. Tripp had invited you to come with him and a group to search for supplies for the town, such as fabrics, crafts, and other supplies you might need. The group would burn the small town down so no one would be attracted to it after the fact since nothing would be there. (They would make sure it didn’t start a wildfire but burn buildings to prevent people from coming closer to Jackson.)

The group of ten people, along with a wagon, was plenty for the mission to salvage the small town. The group included Tripp, Joel, Tommy, Maria, and two other friends of yours. After spending most of the day, it was time to head out after savaging through dusty shelves of picked-over craft supplies. You did find a lot of valuable items that will be helpful for the shop.

You loaded your last box of supplies into the wagon as the guys started to burn other buildings around. You look through your pile as you get excited over your finds. Then you noticed you forgot something inside. You look over to tell Tripp, but he is somewhere else. You should have enough time to grab the last box before they set fire to the building.

You quickly run inside and search for the box you had put together. You could hear some commotion outside the building. Looking around, you finally found the box and ran over to it. Before reaching the box, you slipped over a line of oil the guys had put for the fire. You tried to stand up quickly but couldn’t because of the pain in your ankle. You curse yourself as you try to get up.

Outside the building, the guys had started to light the gasoline line they had already laid down. Tripp was the one to light it. Everyone backed away to their horses and wagon, chatting amongst themselves.

“Um, I’m only seeing five out of six of us,” Tommy says as he runs his hand through his hair, looking around for you.

By this time, you could see the flames inside the building. The flame ran along the line of oil that you were sitting in, which was all over you. You let out a scream of help to the others outside.

Joel was the first to hear you after becoming aware you were missing from the group. Tripp finally realized what was happening, but Joel was already soaking his handkerchief in water and covering his airways to run inside after you. His whole body was in fear of how he would find you. Your screams of terror made him move further into the blazing building. He found you in one of the further rooms holding your ankle and a box of supplies.

“Joel,” you gasped as you tried not to inhale more smoke than you already had. His large arms picked you up quickly and carried you to safety. At that time, you had knocked unconscious from all the smoke inhaling.

Tripp ran to Joel as he carried you outside of the building. “What have I done?! I didn’t know she was inside. Thank you, Joel,” the man rambled as he tried to help Joel to the wagon.

Joel had helped the others get you into the wagon, but his body hit the ground as he tried to catch his breath. Maria jumped into the wagon to help assist you while Tommy helped his brother strip off his clothes and cool him down.

“Is she okay?” Joel let out a shaky breath as he drank some water Tommy had given him. Tommy looked at the level of concern on his brother's face. There was something different in the way he asked and looked at you at this moment that made him raise questions that he would never bring up. The others besides Tripp noticed the same level of concern for you from Joel but didn’t say anything because he had just saved your life.

After gaining consciousness, you slowly recover from the smoke inhalation and start to become more of yourself over the next few days. You had not seen Joel since you were bedridden the last few days. Others had come to visit you with surprises, or their presence made you feel better.

You felt good enough to return to your shop about a week later. The excitement of organizing your new supplies and Tripp's sweet support have driven you to recovery. You kissed Tripp goodbye and headed for the day as he attended a council meeting.

After an hour, you finally found a great organizational system for your new finds. The sound of the shop bell brought you out of your headspace, and you prayed it was one person. You walked around the counter and saw a small bouquet with a small note waiting for you.

‘Hope you are well. - J’ was the only message scribbled on the piece of paper. Your head feels light-headed as your feelings start to make you emotional. He never came to check on you or had a second for you to thank him for saving your life.

You had gone out of your way three days later to visit Joel’s home. You come with a small present of a new flannel shirt with a custom name embroidered into the sleeve. No one had answered the door when he should have been home. Joel sat in his upstairs window, watching you as you knocked on his door. He felt more emotional than he should have watched you leave the present on his doorstep and wiped the tears from your eyes before you turned towards the street. Both of your hearts ached more than they should have from your “non-emotional” affair.

You had received a visit from Joel in the shop or any secretive message from him again after the flowers. The only contact with the broad, mysterious man was from group settings with friends. Your relationship with Tripp had improved from the relationship to the bedroom.

It was the day of your wedding. All the work you both had put into it had finally paid off. You felt off the whole day as your friends surrounded you with much love. You put on your wedding dress as you tried not to smirk at the dirty thought of Joel fucking you in it after you had finished your alterations on it, along with his creative ideas for it.

The day you had dreamed of all your life was a haze, and it did not feel the way it was supposed to. You could barely focus on the day as you tried to find that one person throughout it.

As you make your way down the aisle, you can't help but look around at your friends and community members with a big, fake smile. You find the beautiful brown eyes on Joel as you slow your walk down to meet Tripp. You couldn't help but match the pained look on Joel’s face as you saw each other. You quickly recovered when you met Tripp at the altar.

The officiant was Tommy, as he was one of Tripp’s closest friends and mentors. He talked highly of you and read off the typical wedding speech of love and endearment of marriage.

“If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Tommy said as he looked out into the crowd, looking for his brother's eyes, which he could not find in the audience. You found yourself doing the same as Tommy. You felt your heart fall into your stomach from the question, but you thought it broke as you saw no sign of the person you wanted to find and hear speak up.

The wedding was a great success, and much love was spread amongst the community. You had only dreamed of it happening in this messed-up world. The wedding night ended up at the Tipsy Bison, where you hung on your husband's arm and drank your secret emotions in whiskey and anything you could get your hands on. Maria and some of the ladies in your bridal party helped you into the restroom as you felt queasy.

Joel had eased his way into the bar as he watched you hang on your husband’s arm. He had left the wedding early, drinking his sorrows away all day. He hadn’t been the man he thought he could be, but he showed up to the wedding and swept you away from your husband. His cowardly, drunken self had shown up in the bar more like stumbled into it.

It took him a while to reach your newlywed husband as he saw you go to the restroom. “Congratulations, Tripp! You got yourself a lovely wife and life. One man can only be so lucky,” Joel drunkenly says to Tripp as he wraps his arm around him. Trpp looks around at the guys around them.

Tripp nervously chuckles as he looks back at Joel, “thanks, Joel. I know I am the luckiest man in the world today,” he says as he lifts his beer to him.

They cheer their glass of whiskey and make small talk amongst themselves. Joel orders every one of them a round of shots. He rewraps his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in to whisper in his ear. “When was the last time you fucked her?” Joel whispers into Tripp’s ear.

Tripp whips his head around to him and throws him off his shoulder, “Excuse me, Joel?” He sternly asks him as he looks more shocked than ever. At this time, the girls had helped you out of the bathroom and nursed you with a glass of water as you walked back into the bar. You look up from your glass to see the scene of your husband and lover.

Joel chuckles and shrugs his shoulder, “Boy, I said, when was the last time you fucked her?” he says calmly with a wicked smirk on his face. “And I don’t mean the pathetic.

Fuck that she told me that you gave her. I mean, like a proper fucking her where she can’t remember any dick beside mine.” The smirk on his face as the words come out his face, and everyone’s faces drop in shock from them. Tripp’s fist on Joel’s face is the first sound anyone hears besides gasps. Joel doesn’t fight back as Tripp punishes his beautiful face. Tommy and some of the other patrol group members are the ones who break them up. You didn’t even notice that you had fallen in shock when you met Joel’s eyes, and Tommy pulled him outside.

Before Tripp could find you, you ran for the only place you thought you could be safe: the sewing shop. The tears, dirt, and memories of your affair ruin your precious wedding dress as you run through all the dirt to your safe space. You hysterically cry yourself to sleep as you know your secret has been told to the world. They were going to shun you and kick you out into the cruel world again, you feared.

By the time you awoke in the morning, it seemed the whole town had forgotten the terrible incident at the Tipsy Bison. You walked into your shared home with Tripp quietly to find him passed out on the couch, holding an empty whiskey bottle. The guilt and pain made you want to run away from these problems.

You eventually wake your groom up and tell him everything that happened with Joel. You apologize and promise to work on your relationship. It felt like he had forgiven you too quickly. There were boundaries and much more to discuss, but you planned to work out your relationship with your sweet husband.

After spending a few days off from the shop on your “honeymoon,” you finally returned to your shop to help the community with all its clothing issues, and Tripp went back to his routine. Joel had reportedly left on a solo patrol after the wedding after a rough discussion with Ellie that night.

You casually looked out the window from the shop every time you heard the large gates of Jackson open, hoping to see those locks of brown hair. To just talk to the man that you swore never to love, but that was a lie you always told yourself.

Joel had never returned. Ellie eventually went after him and returned with the news that made you drop to your knees from the worst news ever. He was gone. Forever. Your lover, Joel Miller, had left this world without saying goodbye.

Thank you for reading!

#pedro pascal x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic

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chelseypprimrose · 11 months

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Jilted Ex-Lover / Negan x Reader / fiancésdad!Negan

Warnings ⚠️: unprotected sex, elements of rough sex, use of petnames, oral (fem receiving) not proof read yet.

Summary: After your fiancé leaves you high and dry on your wedding day, his dad comforts you in a way you didn’t ever expect.

A/N: I got burnt out to fuck writing this lol, writers block was strong on this one, hope you enjoy it all the same though, thank u for all the love on my other stories 🤍🫶🏼

“How the fuck could he do this to me?” You exclaimed, stomping down the hallway of the old manor house, the rooms still decorated in the victorian inspired decor you’d picked out months ago. Making it back to your bridal suite, you threw the doors open, reaching under your dress to get your uncomfortable heels off your feet, throwing them into the corner without a care. Your bridesmaids followed behind you, a couple on their phones trying to get in contact with your fiancé, or should you say ex-fiancé. You’d noticed he’d been getting jittery the closer the date got, not caring when you’d come to him for his opinions on the food menu or the DJ set list, him just humming along, his eyes still glued to his phone. You’d tried to push it to the back of your mind, chalking it up to just be cold feet, something that was common but when the day eventually arrived, it would all be fine. How foolish that was, on what was meant to be the happiest day of your life, the day you are meant to promise yourselves to one another, you’d been embarrassed in front of not only your friends and family, his as well. You kept replaying the moment over and over again in your head, the gasps of the wedding audience, hands going over their mouths in shock, the tears that entered your eyes and started to fall down your cheeks. He’d left you there at the alter, stuttering when it came to the all important question, running down the stairs, head held down as he rushed out of the door.

“So, what do you want to do Y/N? Everyone’s traveled here, everything is set downstairs.” One of the bridesmaids asked you, looking around at the others with a nervous look on her face, almost not wanting to ask you the question. You sighed, taking a hold of the crystal decanter that was on the dressing room table, using the ice tongs to place two cubes of ice in a matching whiskey glass, pouring a stiff drink. “You know what?” You laughed, taking the drink in one go. “Fuck him, there’s no chance I spent all this fucking money for everything to be cancelled. Tell everyone to head to the reception. We are continuing like this never happened.” Your bridesmaids started to text away on their phones, one looking up for a brief moment. “What about his family? Are they invited?” You looked towards her, a small smile on your face. “Of cause, I’m going to get some questions answered.”

You’d still changed into your reception dress, a long flowing silk white strapless number, you’d still had your first dance, just with your own father instead of your husband, a few fallen tears as you did, quickly wiped away. You’d had people coming up to you from both sides, what should have been congratulations became apologies and sympathies. You hadn’t heard from him since he ran away, the thought of somehow this being a dream now fully out of the picture. The beat of the cheesy classic wedding songs in the background, as you asked the bartender for another drink, passing your empty glass to them. Your nails tapped against the bar, looking around at everyone still enjoying themselves and dancing near the stage where the DJ was positioned. The bartender returned with your glass now full, a nod of appreciation as you took it.

“Drowning your sorrows, sweetheart? Can’t say I blame you.” You turned to look at where the voice came from, a small look of disapproval sat on your features. “Well, you have your own demon spawn to blame for that one, Mr Smith.” He let out a hearty chuckle, leaning on the bar top. You knew you shouldn’t be directing your anger at Negan, your fiancés father but you couldn’t help your feelings. You’d been racking your brain all day of how someone could think it was okay to completely abandon what was meant to be their life partner on the day of their wedding, knowing how embarrassing and disrespectful it was. “You really did a brilliant job of raising him, the fact he thinks that it’s morally better to absolutely embarrass me in front of everyone, he could have cancelled this before now, saved me the heartbreak.” You concluded, taking a sip of the wine from the glass. Negan looked at you with a guilty look on his face, his hand rubbing his face. “I’m so sorry doll, he never came to me with any of this, if I’d known he was going to do this, I would have shut that shit down, made sure he went about the right way to do it. That’s not the way I fucking raised him. It was a cowardly move.” You let out a sigh, you could tell from the way Negan was looking at you he was being completely truthful, you’d always got along, there would be no reason he wouldn’t have come to you with this, even if it meant going behind his sons back. “I know. Sorry, I just have a bit of resentment towards anyone associated to him at the moment, it isn’t your fault. Maybe just hit him in the face a couple times when you eventually find him.” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood for the moment before you cried again. He laughed at this, his arm leaving the bar to wrap around your waist in a gentle embrace. “Don’t worry doll, he’ll be getting an earful from me when I see him. I don’t like seeing your pretty face upset, especially not over some boy.” He pulled you close, his hand resting in place, you felt safe in Negan’s arms, a weird sensation coming over you, arousal? It was no secret that Negan was a good looking guy, anyone with a set of eyes could see how handsome he was, he had all the charm in the world to match as well. So suave, he held himself really well, almost a people person but wouldn’t take any shit from anyone. To be honest, there had always been some kind of silent attraction between the two of you, you’d noticed when his eyes had lingered on you for a little longer than was deemed socially appropriate, how he always seemed more relaxed in your company, when he’d bring you breakfast some mornings when he knew his son was away on business trips. He’d taken good care of you and welcomed you with open arms into the family, which caused the betrayal to sting more, you weren’t just losing a potential husband, you were losing a extended family relationship as well.

“Well if you would excuse me, I have to get back to people coming up to me and expressing their condolences, you’d think it was a funeral, not a wedding.” You slightly laughed, taking one last look in his eyes as you bid him farewell.

A couple hours later, after everyone had left, you found yourself in your suite, having taken your hair down from the intricate up do, having to weave out the small flowers that had been placed in the style and what felt like ten thousand bobby pins. Grabbing a quick shower, you’d put on a silk set with a short robe, what was meant to be your wedding night lingerie, another thing you’d spent a ton of money on that you didn’t want going to waste. You’d barely checked your phone through the night, looking at it now you hadn’t had any calls or texts from your estranged ex, concluding that was probably a good thing, not wanting to get upset thinking about it again. A loud knock at your door made you jump, throwing the soft duvet off your body as you made moves towards the door, a look of surprise at the person. “Hey doll, I figured you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight, so…” Negan trailed off, raising the bottle of champagne and two flutes in his large hand. “Champagne? Aren’t you meant to drink that when you’re celebrating?” You questioned, cocking one hip to the side sarcastically with your eyebrow raised. “Well, depending on how you look at the situation, you could be celebrating the fact you don’t have to deal with a silly little boy anymore who can’t appreciate a good women in front of him?” You laughed, taking the bottle out of his hand, moving away from the door so he could enter the room. “Well, when you put it like that.” Negan shut the door behind you, taking a seat on the bed as he watched you pop open the bottle, pouring two glasses and handing him one. “To new beginnings?” You cheers with him, the glasses clinking together. “To new beginnings, doll. So what the plan from here? Weren’t you meant to be going on a honeymoon?” You huffed, you’d completely forgotten about your impending honeymoon, two weeks on your own sounded morbid. “I haven’t even thought about it, I forgot. Do you think it would be pathetic to go by myself? Maybe I can explain the situation and get refunded, I’ll just have to take the hit if not.” Negan smiled as he shook his head. “Nah, it’s not pathetic. Hell, you paid for the trip, you deserve the time away.” You nodded, taking a small sip of the champagne. “Yeah I guess, just don’t know how I feel about a solo trip, it will cause me to overthink everything and get upset.” You looked down at the ground, taking small steps until you were sat across from Negan on the bed.

“Did I do something wrong? I mean, am I really that insufferable that someone felt the need to run away from me? Is the idea of marrying me that bad?” You asked, the thoughts you’d tried to push down all day coming back to the surface, causing you to get emotional the more you fixated on it. “No doll, don’t think that shit. He royally screwed up on this one, there is absolutely no excuse to do what he did to someone, especially someone like you.” He moved to wrap his arms around you again, you leaning your head into his shoulder, your hand placed on his chest, you could feel his faint heartbeat on the surface. You sat for a short time, neither of you moving from the position you were in, savouring the moment. You looked up at Negan, those deep brown eyes of his almost staring into your soul. He glanced down at you as well, this unspeakable tension surrounding you both, he leant forward and began to kiss you, your eyes wide with shock. “Wha-what are you doing? Please don’t tell me this is some sort of pity kiss.” You asked, pulling slightly away from Negan as his hand began to the side of your face, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Of cause not, let me help you forget about that fucker. Doesn’t know a good women even though it’s staring him in the face. Let me make you feel good, doll.” You pulled him towards you, now capturing him in a feverish kiss, your hands exploring his neck, holding him tightly. “God please, help me forget.”

You moved to straddle Negan feeling him through the thin lingerie you had on as he met your kisses with just as much confidence as you. His tongue making quick work of turning your insides to jelly, moving to whip your robe off your body, making quick work of unclipping your bra as well. You took no notice of where the items of clothing landed, though you had a feeling you would regret that later. Your breasts now free, Negan took the liberty of exploring you, delighting in the arch of your back as he worked a nipple between his teeth. One hand was on your back, the other trying to work on getting your panties down. You stood for a moment, shedding the flimsy material off your body, Negan taking a moment to admire your curves, as you straddled him again; hot skin against hot skin. The sensation overwhelmed you, aching to have him inside you. “Fuck, you are perfect doll. So beautiful.” He mumbled against your lips, his hands now roaming your body.

He laid you down on the bed, your legs spreading to make room for him. He kissed your neck, gently nipping it as he worked his way down, more attention on your breasts. You knew what was coming but that still didn't prepare you for the sensation that came once his mouth made contact with your pussy. Your hips bucked, Negan using one hand to steady you. You still couldn’t believe you were actually going to have sex with your fiancés father, the ultimate fuck you. “Uh, Negan! Fuck, your mouth feels so good!”

He slowly slid two fingers inside of you, delighting in how slick and tight you were. He worked his fingers in and out, building a rhythm while still licking at your clit, causing you to moan out, your hands gripping the sheet below you. Before you knew it, you could feel the orgasm building inside of you, this is what you had been craving. Your fiancé could never give you pleasure like you were currently experiencing, never even going down on you really, always just chasing his own high. You’d missed the attention of a man who knew what he was doing and Negan definitely knew what he was doing. You thrust your hips forward, wanting to get as close to Negan as possible. He sped up his rhythm, his tongue continually flicking against you. You was close, so close. Your other hand was grabbing at his shoulder, leaving red marks underneath his shirt, where your nails dug in slightly.

“Fuck doll, you taste divine, so wet for me.” He whispered out, attaching his mouth back to you after. "I'm so close," you choked out, surprised at the fact that you could talk at all. "I'm going to come, Negan! Fuck! Don’t stop!” You moaned, gripping the sheet even tighter as your orgasm washed over your body. The muscles in your body contracted as you thrust toward him again. Negan continued to work your clit through your orgasm, sporadic moans leaving your lips as the wave of pleasure that rolled over you was unbelievable. You couldn't control anything, the waves subsided as you tried to relax your body. You loosened the grip that you had on his shoulder as he looked up at you, a confident grin on his face.

“You okay baby?” He asked softly, already knowing your answer. “Never better, I need you.” His hand caressed your breast again and down your body. He slid a finger into you, finding you to be wet and ready for him. Your hands explored his body again, practically ripping his suit down, exposing his shaft to you, it standing erect at attention. You ran your hand around the length of it, pleased to hear him moan as you did so. You pumped Negan’s cock a few more times, the pre cum oozing out of the top, causing your hand to become slick. You were nervous about Negan’s size, you’d never seen a more impressive cock. The way he stood over you as well, so manly and dominating. “You ready doll? You look so beautiful, so needy for me.” You could only nod, as he positioned himself at your entrance.

You moved to the top of the bed, propping yourself up on the soft pillows positioned there. You spread your legs a little wider as Negan slowly eased himself into you. “Oh fuck, you feel good.” You moaned as his entire length entered you.

He grabbed your legs, putting them up over his shoulders, allowing his cock to go even deeper. His hands gripped your thighs as he thrust himself into you at a faster, harder pace, almost taking your breath away. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, doll. Fits me perfectly.” he growled, reaching up and began tweaking one of your nipples. The sensation of Negan playing with your nipples, and fucking you relentlessly was almost more than you could take. You’d never been pleasured like this before, your other sexcapades being boring and too slow paced for you. You ran your nails down his still covered chest, the black blazer now disregarded by Negan, the crisp white shirt still on his frame, he looked so sexy in it. The thought that he just had to have you, he wasn’t even concerned about undressing made you feel so desirable. He leaned down and kissed you again, biting your lower lip in the process.

"Fuck me harder, please!” You moaned out, his lips now going to work on your neck, quickly finding your sensitive spots. Negan groaned appreciatively, speeding his rhythm up to meet your sordid demands. “Hang on, doll. I need to see that pretty ass of yours.” He slid himself out of your pussy and you whimpered at the loss of fullness you were feeling. He rolled you over, pulling your torso up so that your ass was in the air. He ran his hands over your ass, giving a slap to the supple skin, sliding himself back into your pussy. “Oh fuck yes, Negan!” You said happily, delighting in the new sensation, his cock hitting all the right spots deep inside you.

He rested his hands on your hips, thrusting hard into your pussy. He ran a hand over your ass again, raised it, and gave another hard slap. “Fuck! Do it again.” You begged, the dirty movements only increasing your pleasure. He raised his hand and smacked you again, his hand then running through your hair and pulling tightly on it, angling your head back. “Does that feel good, doll?” he asked. "Do you like that? Being such a good girl for me.” He praised you, his deep tone causing your body to light on fire. “Oh yeah, fuck yeah.” You managed to whimper out, the sound of your skin slapping against him as you met his thrusts. “You want me to do it again? Your ass is going to be red raw when I’m finished with you doll.” Negan whispered in your ear, continuing to thrust hard into your pussy. “Yes, please. Oh please!” You felt desperate, the pain mixed with pleasure was just too much for you to handle. “Beg for it, doll. Beg me.” he said, pulling your hair harder. “Oh fuck, please smack me again! Negan, you feel so fucking good inside me!” Negan kept slamming himself into you as he smacked your ass again.

"Fuck doll, I’m getting close, this pussy is heavenly.” he said a few minutes later, pumping your pussy hard. "Where’d you want me?”

"On my chest, all over me, please?” You requested, Negan thrusting faster as he chased his release. “You are a dirty fucking girl, you know that doll?” He pulled out of you, positioning yourself to the ground quickly as he leant just above you on his knees.

"Come on me baby, please! I need it.” you said, pushing your breasts up towards him with your inner arms, your hands grabbing his shaft, finishing him off. “Fuck yes, doll! You look amazing like that, so needy for my cum.” he choked out just before his climax hit him. Negan’s load came pulsating out, all over your chest, heavy breaths escaping both of you. You began to swipe his release on off your chest, sucking the salty taste off your fingers, his eyes locked on to the dirty sight in front of him, his face lighting up. He helped you up, back onto the bed, giving you another kiss as he did. “You want me to stay doll?” he asked.

You debated internally for a few moments. You knew that he should probably go, the thought of someone catching you in bed with your ex fiancés father, would cause many questions that you wanted to avoid, but when he looked at you with those eyes of his, you caved. How could you kick out the man who had just shattered your world in the space of a hour? “You can stay, I want a repeat performance in the morning.” You chuckled, wrapping yourselves within the sheets of the bed. “Really doll, he’s a fucking fool. His loss, my fucking gain.” He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, leaving small kisses on your forehead.

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doumadono · 8 months

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Warnings: blood, mentions of decomposition, violence, mental & physical abuse, toxic relationship, gore, nakedness, merman!Dabi, female original character, original characters, descriptions of murders and drowning, smut (p in v, oral - f & m receiving), manipulation

Summary: Miyaka, a young woman driven to the brink by a domineering and aloof husband, resolves to end her life in the lake near her husband's estate. Little does she realize that one quaint encounter will irrevocably alter everything, reshaping her understanding of herself, and blurring the boundaries between reality and the inexplicable

Word count: circa 12.1k A/N: I'm delighted to have had the opportunity to take part in this captivating even created by talented @candycandy00 It was my maiden voyage into the world of horror writing, and I genuinely hope that you find my contribution enjoyable. A huge shoutout to my merman specialist, @crystalwolfblog – her unwavering support and expertise were instrumental in shaping this story!

It was an enchanting night.

She stood at the edge of the great lake, its inky waters reflecting the dim glow of the moon like a mirror tainted with despair. Her heart, heavy with the weight of an unhappy marriage, throbbed in her chest, matching the rhythm of her labored breaths. Tears welled up in her eyes, and a lump formed in her throat as she gazed into the blackness of the abyss before her.

The night was eerily silent, save for the distant croak of a lone frog and the rustling of leaves in the chilling breeze. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the darkness that had consumed her entire life. A long, white, flowing dress clung to her trembling form, a stark contrast to the beauty of the night. It felt like a shroud of misery, concealing the bruises and scars that marred her body.

She had been married to a man she loathed, a man who had wed her solely for her parents' substantial dowry. He was possessive, controlling, and violent, and every day with him was a torment she couldn't escape. As she looked down at the scars on her palms, she could hear his voice in her mind, venomous and cruel. "You're mine, and you'll do as I say," he would snarl, his eyes filled with a possessive rage that chilled her soul.

Tonight, as she stood by the lake, she knew she had reached the precipice of her despair. The moon's silver rays bathed the water in an eerie glow, and she found herself muttering out loud, as if trying to rationalize the unthinkable. "I can't go on like this," she whispered to the inky depths before her, her voice a hollow echo in the night. "There's no escape from this torment, no end to the pain he inflicts upon me."

Her fingers brushed against the bruises on her neck, a painful reminder of her husband's merciless grip. The darkness seemed to envelop her, offering a macabre solace, a release from the relentless agony that had become her life.

A sense of dread washed over her as she took a step closer to the water's edge, the lake beckoning with a malevolent allure. She could hear the echoes of her own pleas for help, trapped within the walls of her loveless home. She had no one to turn to, no one to confide in, for he had isolated her from all those who cared about her, even though there weren't many of them.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and sobs wracked her body. The weight of her misery threatened to drag her under, deeper into the cold abyss. Her mind was a whirlwind of torment, and she continued to speak her sorrow aloud. "I just want the pain to stop," she murmured, her voice quivering. "I want freedom from this living nightmare."

Meantime, claws, like daggers forged in the abyss, pierced the tender flesh of the fish, snapping it asunder with the ease of breaking brittle twigs. Delicate bones shattered, their lamenting cracks akin to dried leaves crumbling beneath a malevolent force, as the ichor of life spilled forth in crimson tendrils, vanishing into the dark, ravenous depths. Razor-edged teeth, like shards of obsidian, tore through the delicate meat, rending it into fragments devoured by the insatiable monster.

This lake, embraced by a shroud of old woods, lay in proximity to a quiet city, a deceptive guise for an ideal feeding ground, or so it would seem. Elders strolled along its shore, seeking solace in the serenity of its waters, while children harbored dreams of frigid immersion, and clandestine encounters found their haven amidst the trees. Yet, the reality proved far bleaker.

Touya had ventured here in the hopes of a bountiful feast, having expended immense effort to navigate a subterranean passage connecting the vast expanse of the open sea to this secluded lake. His rewards were meager, a pitiful array of minuscule fish, native to these forsaken waters.

Resting on the lakebed, his lithe form culminating in a shark-like appendage, he contemplated a return to the boundless sea, where sustenance was plentiful. However, his sharply pointed, fin-like ears detected a peculiar disturbance, both auditory and visual.

The cacophony of a loud splash rent the silence, an intrusion too substantial for a mere fish or woodland creature's leap. Touya's senses honed in on the source, identifying an anomaly—an unmistakable human presence.

Swiftly, he propelled himself towards this enigma, only to discover a form cloaked in a long, flowing white gown, gradually succumbing to the lake's murky abyss. Drawing nearer, he seized the delicate ankle, hauling the figure closer for examination.

Fortuna's fickle favor had delivered a woman into his grasp, and while the prospect of her tender flesh stirred his primal hunger, an audacious notion overcame his instincts. The thrill of an encounter akin to a true siren's seduction beckoned, and the notion of her consumption transformed into a sinister game.

Against his ravenous desires, Touya encircled the fragile woman's frame with his sinuous arms, drawing her from the water's embrace onto the shore, where the macabre performance of a siren's sinister plan would soon commence.

As she splashed and struggled in the water, her vision blurred with panic. Her arms flailed wildly, and she gasped for air, unaware of what had caught her beneath the surface. Each thrash seemed to pull her deeper into the dark abyss, and the murky water filled her mouth easily, making her gag and sputter.

She couldn't see what had a hold of her, but the sensation of strong arms wrapping around her fragile body only heightened her fear. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her lungs burned for oxygen as she continued to fight against the unseen force.

Desperation set in, and she opened her mouth to scream, but instead, she inadvertently swallowed more water. It flooded her throat and rushed into her lungs, choking her, a burning sensation filling her pharynx and nose. The world around her grew dimmer, and her struggles weakened as her consciousness waned.

In the end, the water won, claiming her as its own. She slipped into unconsciousness, her body limp.

The beast, concealed beneath the watery veil of his domain, observed her futile resistance with a dispassionate eye. In the realm of aqueous shadows, humans were like vulnerable prey, their minds adrift in a soporific stupor. Submerged in liquid depths, they became rabid creatures confined within a cage of their own making, drawing ever nearer to the precipice of their demise with each gasping breath.

In a stroke of providence, the woman in his grasp surrendered to the dark embrace of unconsciousness. Her unconsciousness spared him the ordeal of wrestling with her thrashing form. It was a mercy he granted her, one she should consider herself fortunate to receive, for he had contemplated a far less compassionate fate.

With a grace befitting a creature of his nature, he transported her limp form to the water's edge, a sanctuary where the forest's tender grass merged with the lake's sandy shore. Touya did not deign to change his form, instead choosing to remain perched beside her prone body, a silent sentinel.

Reclining with his tail coiled comfortably, his scrutinizing gaze fell upon the woman's fragile form. Despite the dark blemishes that adorned her skin like aged spots upon a ripened fruit, her flesh beckoned like an illicit delicacy. The mere thought of sinking his serrated teeth and razor-sharp claws into her tender form sent his mouth awash with anticipation. He yearned to hear her cries of agony, to witness the crimson cascade of her life's essence, to observe the last flicker of vitality extinguish from her eyes as he ravaged her insides.

Yet, in a rare moment of restraint, the monster resisted the primal urge. No, he would savor this encounter, extracting a different form of pleasure if she were to awaken, for the thrill of her torment held a dark allure all its own.

Coughing violently, she jolted back to consciousness, her body wracked with spasms as the water that had filled her lungs was expelled with each hacking cough. It felt like her chest was on fire, and every cough sent painful ripples through her body.

For a moment, she struggled to sit up, her vision still blurred and her head pounding. She couldn't see clearly, but she had a distinct feeling that she was not alone. Panic gripped her again as she realized that someone or something was nearby.

Her coughs soon subsided, and she took ragged, shallow breaths, trying to clear the lingering water from her airways. Her gaze finally focused, and she saw it – a creature unlike anything she had ever encountered.

It sat beside her, its sharp features illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. Its eyes, piercing and predatory, had turquoise irises with black sclera, a striking and unusual combination, creating an otherworldly appearance. The turquoise color itself was vibrant, reminiscent of the clear, tropical waters of a pristine ocean. Its gaze was fixed on her. Its body was a grotesque blend of human and sea creature, with scales and fins that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

Terror coursed through her as she realized she was not in the safety of her own world anymore. She had been pulled into a nightmare, and this creature, this beast, was surely about to kill her.

She scrambled back, away from it, her heart pounding in her chest. Her voice trembled as she stammered, "W-who are you? What do you want from me?" But deep down, she feared that she already knew the answer.

As she desperately attempted to crawl through the grassy-muddy ground, every movement felt like a relentless struggle against the unforgiving terrain. The thick mud clung tenaciously to her hands and knees, making progress slow and arduous.

Eyes, vibrant and eerily alive, remained fixed on her every frantic movement. Yet, the pallid form that lay behind her, marred by ominous, dark splotches, remained immobile, preserving its enigmatic stillness until the woman's frenetic struggles yielded to silence.

A hand, adorned with webbed membranes that stretched sinuously between each finger, terminated in formidable claws. It moved through his own hair, a short cascade of pristine white, like freshly fallen snow. An insidious smile played upon his lips, revealing rows of serrated teeth that glistened malevolently in the dim light. His ears, akin to the finned appendages of some abyssal creature, possessed two sharp points and twitched slightly as he cocked his head in contemplation. "Is this how you extend gratitude to your savior?" His voice, a beguiling cadence that rivaled the most enchanting melody, seemed ill-fitted for his grotesque form. Yet, it was a weapon, not an adornment, a reminder that he wielded both power and allure. "One should exercise greater caution around these waters, miss. The prospect of losing one's life so recklessly hardly seems appealing."

The sight of her futile attempt to flee stirred a perverse pleasure within him. He found himself increasingly torn by his own plot, yet its wheels were set in motion, and he felt compelled to carry it to its conclusion. "Are you unharmed, miss? Do you feel any pain?" The inward cringe he felt at his unexpected benevolence clashed with his innate siren pride, an unsettling dissonance that inexplicably satisfied him.

The shock of hearing the creature speak, its voice so mesmerizing and soft, took her aback for a moment. She struggled to regain her confidence, her voice quivering as she managed to stammer out a question again, "W-What are you?"

As she continued to tremble, she finally collapsed onto her still-muddy knees. The weight of despair and desperation bore down on her, and she found herself confessing her dark intentions, her voice heavy with anguish, "I... I wanted to end my life."

She couldn't fathom why she had confessed her merciless plan to end her own life to this strange water creature. It felt surreal, as if she had already crossed into some sort of hellish realm beyond the realm of the living. Perhaps she had succumbed to the deadly water filling her lungs, and this creature was nothing more than a manifestation of her fractured mind.

But despite the uncertainty and the eerie circumstances, a part of her clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this encounter held some deeper meaning.

End her own life? He understood all too well that humans were, in his estimation, pitiful and often nothing more than a source of sustenance. However, this act was a new level of wretchedness, a lamentable display that played perfectly into his hands. It would grant him effortless dominion over her fragile psyche, cloaked in a deceptive veneer of benevolence, free from the shadow of his true nature. It promised to be a game as simple as toying with a child's plaything.

Touya edged closer, his movements constrained only by the limits of his domain. His cold hand, pallid and adorned with menacing claws, extended toward her own, long fingers encircling her palm with a touch that grazed her skin like a whispered threat. "End your life? Miss, how could you contemplate such a tragic act?" His voice, like the sweetest of lullabies, dripped with feigned empathy. "A woman of such exquisite beauty, extinguishing her own light — it would be a grievous loss to the world."

The sole witnesses to this deceitful charade were the moon, whose silvery glow bathed the lake and the encircling dark forest, and the enigmatic veil of night. The woods formed an impenetrable barrier, a divide between his aquatic realm and the distant human settlement, lending an illusion of sanctuary. This tableau, a fusion of darkness illuminated by the radiant moon, resembled a masterpiece plucked from the realm of the surreal, gracing the place with an eerie charm.

Her body shivered, not just from the cold but from the sensation of the creature's wet hand with its sharp claws closing around hers. It was an eerie feeling, like a surreal dream that she couldn't wake up from. The moonlit darkness around her only added to the strangeness of the moment.

The creature's soothing voice seemed to be at odds with the sharpness of its claws, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and fascination in the beast's presence. Everything about this encounter defied logic and reason, and she was desperately seeking some semblance of understanding in this bizarre situation. "What are you?" she asked once more, her voice trembling as she stared into the creature's captivating turquoise eyes. "Am I... am I dead?"

Touya tenderly clasped her hand, his fingers exploring the contours of her skin and the supple muscles beneath. An insidious hunger stirred within him, and he battled the overpowering urge to sink his teeth into her soft flesh.

Instead, he brought her delicate palm to his lips, where his tongue languidly traced a sinuous path across her skin. A shiver of desire coursed through him as he inhaled the intoxicating fragrance that clung to her, an aroma as sweet and irresistible as the most alluring of temptations. "I believe you are quite alive, miss," he purred, his voice a seductive whisper. "One cannot be considered dead while radiating such warmth."

Horrified and disgusted by the creature's unsettling actions, she finally found her voice and strength. With a shudder, she forcefully withdrew her hand from the creature's grasp, her face contorted in a mixture of revulsion and fear. "What are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a newfound determination. The earlier feeling of hope had been tainted by the creature's disturbing behavior, and she needed answers more than ever. She was no longer willing to tolerate the enigmatic presence of the creature without understanding the truth of its nature.

A pair of luminescent, cerulean eyes bore into her with an eerie intensity, even as the monstrous figure let out a low, mocking laugh. He unfurled his form, revealing a pale body adorned with enigmatic dark markings and a magnificent tail that shimmered like a sinister jewel beneath the moon's ghostly radiance. "Is it truly so challenging to discern, miss?" he taunted, his voice a silky, melodious cadence. "I am a water-dwelling creature, inhabiting these very depths. You seem remarkably ungrateful - I saved your life, and not a word of thanks graces your lips."

The sudden audacity displayed by the woman intrigued him. It was a peculiar sight to behold — someone who had sought to end their own existence, now attempting to assert dominance as if he were the lesser of the two. He harbored a morbid fascination for this unfolding drama and was more than willing to indulge her in this charade.

As she shivered in the coldness of the night, her mind raced with conflicting emotions. The creature's words were unsettling, yet there was a grain of truth in what it had said - it had saved her from her own desperate act, and she couldn't deny that fact.

Swallowing her fear, she decided to pursue the conversation further. "I... I appreciate that you saved me," she stammered, her voice still shaking. "But I need to understand. What's your name? Do you even have one? And why did you intervene? I didn't want to be saved, that's not what I hoped for."

"You may call me Touya," he acknowledged with a nod, bestowing upon her a disarming smile that revealed a row of dangerously sharp teeth. "I am, by nature, a siren, and you, dear miss, have disrupted the tranquil harmony of my lake. At first, I assumed it was some unsuspecting creature taking an ill-fated plunge, but when my eyes fell upon a human as resplendent as yourself, I simply couldn't ignore the spectacle."

He offered this explanation in a voice as smooth as velvet, its mellifluous tones designed to insinuate themselves into her fragile psyche. Touya typically employed this beguiling cadence to lure unsuspecting individuals into the water, but in her case, he sought to quell her anxiety and delay her inevitable flight. "I dare say, fortune itself must be watching over you," he continued, his voice dripping with a honeyed reassurance. "For you have chosen to cast yourself into these depths, and in that choice, you've affirmed the value of life, young miss."

She remained silent, her shock and bewilderment apparent in her wide eyes as she stared at Touya. She blinked several times, as if trying to convince herself that this surreal encounter was real.

Her formerly white dress, now covered in mud and grass, clung to her body, the once pristine fabric marred by her ordeal. Some marine flora had found its way onto the dress as well, further adding to the disarray of her appearance. Her hair was a tangled mess, damp from her recent struggle in the lake. The soaked material of the dress offered little concealment, and her perky breasts were subtly visible through the fabric.

The woman struggled to make sense of it all, torn between the desire to flee from this creature and the nagging feeling that there was something soothing about his presence.

The woman's bewilderment bore a certain charm, and Touya couldn't help but relish the success of his beguiling voice. Seizing the opportunity, he inched closer to her until he was positioned right beside her, his attention now devoted to the delicate task of untangling debris from her disheveled hair. "I hope you don't find it intrusive, but might I inquire about your name, miss?" he asked, his voice a soothing melody, while he carefully plucked remnants from her tangled locks. "I find myself quite intrigued by the enigma I've just rescued."

His gaze wandered to her, swiftly detecting the telltale marks that marred her neck — a grim testament to the assailant who had been thwarted in their pursuit. With a possessive glint in his eyes, he whispered softly, his fingers lightly grazing her throat as he voiced his observation, "It seems someone has inflicted harm upon you."

"My name is not important," she replied with a distant, haunted look in her eyes. "I've been called so many slurs, I almost forgot my own name."

As Touya got closer, her senses were alarmed, and she instinctively got up, her stained attire a mess as she attempted to improve her appearance. She felt a mixture of fear and unease in the presence of this enigmatic creature.

Suddenly, a male voice came from afar, calling out for Miyaka.

She gasped, her heart pounding as she recognized the voice of her husband. The very mention of her name sent a chill down her spine, and she knew that her desperate escape had not gone unnoticed. Panic washed over her, and she turned to Touya, her voice trembling. "I need to go now," she said urgently. "I have to go."

And with that she simply ran away, stopping twice to look back at the merman over her shoulder. Soon yet, she vanished in the woods.

Touya felt the embers of his anger smoldering within him, stoked by an ever-growing hunger, especially after the tantalizing taste of her skin.

With a frustrated growl, he retreated back into the murky depths of the lake, cursing himself for the absurd notion that had briefly gripped him.

The embrace of the cold water swiftly quelled his rising temper. As he sank to the lake's bottom, he contemplated how best to reclaim the woman he refused to let slip from his grasp.

_____________________________

Over the following days, Touya employed his hypnotic voice, weaving a mesmerizing aria to beckon her back to the waters. It did ensnare a lost, young soul, but not the one he so fervently desired. Nevertheless, the young girl, enticed by his enchantment, undressed and ventured into the chilling embrace of the lake a few nights later.

That was the moment he seized.

As the girl floated on her back, lost in the tranquility of the lake's surface, a sinister force latched onto her ankle, yanking her beneath the water's surface.

Desperation and fear churned within her, and she thrashed wildly, her outstretched hands clawing at the surface, futilely struggling against the monstrous grip. A pale hand, equipped with menacing claws, clamped onto her slender ankle, sealing her grim fate as prey to a relentless kelpie.

He held her under until her struggles ceased, ensuring her life was extinguished before allowing himself to retrieve the lifeless body.

With an eerie detachment, Touya surveyed his gruesome feast. He tore into her flesh, devouring the most succulent portions and discarding what he deemed unworthy. Each organ yielded a delectable, squishy texture, untainted by the ravages of time and human indulgence.

But the heart, that was his ultimate indulgence. Delving for the heart was always a pleasure for Touya, akin to prying open a clam. He reveled in the visceral experience — ripping through flesh, unveiling the rib cage formed from robust bones that snapped like dry twigs under his unrelenting grasp. Inside lay the heart. Sinking his teeth into the still-beating organ was akin to prying open a precious pearl encased within the ribs, the bones cracking like brittle twigs beneath his formidable grip.

Having sated his appetite by consuming the choicest portions, he discarded whatever seemed unworthy, flinging it aside. Seated beside the lifeless body on the bottom of the lake, he seized the hand, twisting it until the elbow joint surrendered with a gruesome pop. The skin tore haphazardly, leaving jagged edges adorning the amputated limb. Now he could relish the taste of human flesh as he bit into it.

This grotesque repast sustained him for the next few days, casting a pall of momentary satisfaction over his insatiable hunger. All that remained were bones, some still intact while others lay shattered, along with soiled garments and scattered remnants of meat.

Yet, he didn't forget about the girl named Miyaka. He toiled tirelessly to entice her back to the lake, driven by an unrelenting determination to make her his own once more.

_____________________________

Her husband was furious at her attempt to escape, and his anger had escalated to violence. The evening had been unbearable, her husband's rage unleashed upon her for daring to defy him and attempt to escape. He had scolded and hit her, his anger leaving her bruised and terrified. As a punishment, the man decided to confine her to a cramped guest bedroom in their shared, or rather his exclusive, house.

The memories of her near escape and her encounter with Touya, the merman, haunted her constantly. She longed for the soothing presence of the lake, where she had briefly found respite from her torment.

One evening, as the sun began to set and darkness crept over the land, she heard a faint, melodious voice carried by the evening breeze. It was distant, yet unmistakable. The voice belonged to Touya, the merman who had saved her life just a few days prior. The sound seemed to come from afar, but Miyaka was more than sure of its origin.

Miyaka cried throughout the day and night, her tears eventually lulling her to sleep in her cramped confinement. And there, in the depths of the night, the magical, soothing voice of Touya returned to her. Sometimes she would shake off the feeling, trying to rationalize that it was impossible for her to hear his voice from so far away. But in the lonely darkness of her captivity, she began to dream about the merman, his appearance simultaneously dangerous and alluring. His presence in her dreams became a lifeline, a glimmer of hope in her otherwise bleak existence.

One night, Miyaka decided to try her luck as their maid forgot to lock her in the bedroom after bringing her supper. The nights had become colder, and she threw a light coat over her shoulders, concealing her black dress beneath. Tiptoeing downstairs, she could hear her husband engaged in a conversation with his friends who had come to visit. Luck seemed to be on her side as she also heard the clinks of glasses, most likely filled with sake – it meant her husband wouldn't notice her leaving the house.

Quietly sneaking through the corridor, she closed the front door gently behind her. The cool night air filled her lungs, and a smile crept onto her lips – she felt free again.

Suddenly, a female voice emerged from the darkness on her left. "You shouldn't be seeing him, he's a demon," it cautioned. It was their maid, an old lady named Yuki.

Miyaka frowned and replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I just need to take a walk. I can't function like this."

Yuki sighed, her eyes filled with concern, and she moved closer, holding some logs in her hands. She reached out and gently placed one hand on Miyaka's shoulder. "My child, stay away from that lake, it's a cursed place. Many souls were lost there, long forgotten by this world. Don't let your sadness and loneliness drag you there, to that hellish place."

Miyaka shook the hand of the older woman off her shoulder. "Please stop, Yuki-san. I'm a grown-up, and I know how to take care of myself. I've been there many times before, and I've never seen or heard anything unusual," Miyaka lied smoothly. "People often concoct unusual stories, usually to frighten children away from venturing there on their own, to prevent accidents or drownings. And don't tell my husband you saw me."

Yuki let out a deep sigh, her eyes carrying a sadness that seemed to weigh her down. "You're making a mistake, my child."

But Miyaka wasn't listening anymore. She was already running towards the lake, as if some strange, invisible force was pushing her towards it.

Touya's throat felt raspy as he completed his haunting melody. A gnawing doubt crept in, questioning the worth of straining his vocal cords for the sake of a pitiful human.

With an irritated growl, Touya glared at the moon before submerging himself back into the water. He couldn't help but feel frustrated that the woman hadn't been devoured when she first plunged into the lake; it seemed like that was her intention after all. Yet, the irresistible urge to play with human pathetic life had taken precedence.

As he rested on the lake's bottom, he patiently waited, a glimmer of hope in his heart that perhaps she had at last heard his enticing voice, sparing him the need to actively seek her out once more.

Miyaka finally arrived at the lake, the moon casting an eerie glow over the surrounding woods. The night was heavy with a sense of foreboding, the tall trees looming like silent sentinels in the darkness. The lake, approachable through a narrow path in the woods, shimmered like a dark mirror, its surface reflecting the cold, distant stars.

As she crouched near the water, her fingers trembling, she tapped the surface with her fingertips, whispering his name in a hushed, desperate tone. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a chill ran down her spine. The air seemed thick with an unnatural stillness, as if the very forest held its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Miyaka's feelings were a tumultuous mix of fear and longing. She had been drawn here by an inexplicable force, a connection she couldn't explain. Her mind told her to flee this eerie place, to return to the safety of her husband's house, but her heart and soul yearned for something else, something she couldn't quite comprehend.

As she continued to call out to him, the water remained still, and a sense of dread settled over her. In the heart of the night, in the midst of the haunted woods, she was about to confront a reality she could never have imagined.

A shock of white hair emerged from beneath the water's surface, followed by a pair of radiant blue eyes that observed her with an eerie, almost otherworldly glow, resembling the lost flames of souls.

So she had returned! The woman had willingly walked back into the snare that would ultimately lead to her demise. It was a stark testament to the foolishness of humans, their vulnerability to the allure of his voice despite their long-standing awareness of water creatures like him. Truly, their ignorance was nothing short of pathetic.

As the woman extended her hand into the water, he gracefully swam closer and gently enveloped her hand with his own, guiding it beneath the water's surface just enough to plant a delicate kiss on the top of her palm. To her, it likely appeared as a customary human gesture, but for him, it was an opportunity to savor her essence once more, and she tasted exquisite.

He released her hand and revealed his full form to her. "You've returned, miss," he stated calmly. "I thought you were too frightened of me to come back."

When her hand dipped into the water, she felt a gentle pull, and her breath caught as the merman's lips pressed against the top of her palm. It was a fleeting gesture, one that she perceived as a kind human custom, but the sensation sent shivers through her.

As he let go of her hand, she finally saw him in his entirety. He revealed himself to her, and she was spellbound by his otherworldly appearance. His words reached her ears, and she couldn't help but respond, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fascination. "I... I couldn't stay away," she admitted, her gaze locked on his mesmerizing eyes. "I don't understand what's happening, but there's something about you that draws me back, despite my fear."

"Oh? Is that so?" He mused with a hint of curiosity. Without further ado, he gracefully submerged beneath the water's surface without unnecessary words.

Miyaka watched with a mixture of fascination and trepidation as he hummed and disappeared beneath the water's surface. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for his return, her mind awash with questions and a growing sense of unease.

She couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath those dark, mysterious waters.

Touya emerged from the murky water just a moment later, but there was something different about him this time.

Instead of his tail, Touya was now standing on his own two legs. His body was strong, but his skin was pale with dark purple splatters all over it. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his wet hair.

Then he turned to her, standing there like the day he was born, completely unbothered by his nakedness. "Maybe it was destiny itself that brought you here, or perhaps you are in love, miss. How about we take a little walk?" he hummed, using his voice in a specific way to maintain his control over her.

Miyaka's eyes widened in shock as she saw him looking more like a human. Her cheeks flushed at his nakedness, and at first, she turned her head away, trying to regain her composure. His voice, however, was so sweet and enchanting that she found herself unable to resist his offer.

With a shy smile, she finally met his gaze and nodded in agreement. "A walk sounds nice," she replied, her voice slightly trembling.

"Then, come on, for it would be my privilege to stroll alongside a lady of your grace," Touya whispered, his voice a gentle melody, its soft vibrations resonating in the quietude of the night.

As they embarked on their journey, the moonlight filtered through the forest canopy, bestowing an otherworldly glow upon their surroundings. Miyaka found herself caught in a swirl of emotions. On one hand, the night's beauty enthralled her — the moon's tranquil reflection upon the serene lake and the enigmatic presence of her companion held an undeniable allure.

Yet, beneath this surface enchantment, a lingering fear clung to her heart. She walked alongside a creature she could barely fathom—a being who had both saved her and possessed the potential to harm her. Her steps were cautious, her senses acutely attuned, yet she couldn't deny the strange magnetism of the situation that kept her near him.

"Touya," she ventured with trepidation, "you mentioned being a siren earlier, and I believe you obviously... But I've been pondering... What sustenance does a being like you feed on?"

The merman gazed at her through half-lidded eyes, offering a subtle shrug of his shoulders. "I am indeed a siren, and I'm pleased that you trust me. If you're truly curious, I subsist on fish and other creatures that dwell within this very lake." Touya gently entwined his hand with hers, their fingers interlocking. "Is there a particular reason for your concern?" he inquired softly.

Miyaka's fingers held onto Touya's hand with a hint of tension as she confessed, "Our maid, Yuki-san, she warned me about you. She called you a devil and spoke of the many people who have disappeared near this lake." Her gaze wavered between fear and fascination as she continued, "Despite her warnings, I couldn't resist the pull of this place, and of you."

In response, Touya emitted a low purring sound and drew a bit nearer, his hand reaching to tenderly brush her cheek. "People often spin tales to frighten children or to add intrigue to their lives," he remarked, his voice laced with a soothing quality. "Do you truly believe I would have saved you if I were the monster they depict?" he lied smoothly.

Miyaka yielded to the allure of Touya's touch, her fear momentarily giving way to an inexplicable attraction. "I... I don't know what to believe anymore," she confessed, her voice quivering with uncertainty. “But I trust you…”

As they continued their walk, Miyaka was suddenly assaulted by a foul odor that made her wince and scrunch up her nose. "Oh God, what an awful smell!" She scanned the area, trying to locate the source of the stench.

Dabi's brow furrowed with a sense of foreboding; he already had a suspicion about what she was referring to. It was likely the remains of the girl who had come to the lake before her, her torn and discarded body now possibly decomposing in the tall grass, right where he had left it; Touya had no inclination to allow the wretched remnants of a pitiful human to decompose within the sacred waters of his lake. He cursed himself for not disposing of it more discreetly, hiding the evidence of his previous encounter.

Miyaka couldn't resist investigating the foul odor. She carefully approached the nearby bushes, her heart pounding with dread. As she parted the dense foliage, she was met with a gruesome sight.

There, partially concealed among the tangled branches and leaves, were the decaying remains of what appeared to be a human. The body was in a horrifying state of decomposition, and the stench was overwhelming. Maggots crawled in and out of the decomposing flesh, and Miyaka felt bile rise in her throat.

She stumbled back, horrified by the grisly discovery. "Oh my God," she whispered, her voice trembling with shock and disgust. "What... what is this?!" The realization that something terrible had happened here sent shivers down her spine. "Oh my dear God!" She started crying.

Touya swiftly ensnared her in his grasp, drawing her nearer as his arms coiled around her, a tight and sinister embrace. His hushed whispers carried an eerie weight, like a sinister lullaby meant to enthrall. "You humans are often desperate creatures," he murmured, his tone taking on a dark, chilling timbre. "I didn't know she was here. She probably came for the same reason you did those days ago, but she succeeded."

The sinister undercurrent in his words hung in the air, weaving a web of unsettling secrets and uncertainty. Miyaka's heart raced as Touya pulled her into a tight hug, but his touch only intensified her fear and disgust. The overwhelming desire to escape this situation consumed her, like a trapped animal seeking freedom. As her mind churned with conflicting emotions, the feeling of unease grew stronger. She needed to get away, to put distance between herself and whatever had transpired here. "That's disgusting! Poor soul..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

But then realization struck, and her horror deepened. "Wait... How do you know it was a woman? These remains are unrecognizable, you can't determine who it was... Oh my God... oh my God, you killed her..." Miyaka began to back away slowly, her eyes filled with a terror that clawed at her very soul.

Touya's frown deepened as he regarded her, her skepticism gnawing at his patience. His voice, laced with irritation, rumbled like distant thunder, "You are too quick to pass judgment, miss. My existence is far removed from your understanding, and my senses perceive the world in ways you cannot fathom."

Turning away from her, he continued in a lower tone, his words designed to play on her human psyche, "I saved your life, yet you accuse me of murder."

Miyaka, caught in a conflict of emotions, felt a wave of guilt cascade over her like a shadowed waterfall. Had her accusations been too hasty, she wondered? Touya's words, though cryptic, resonated with a strange sincerity. Yet, the puzzle pieces of this enigmatic encounter didn't quite fit into the mosaic of her understanding.

Opting to retain her doubts in the vault of her thoughts, Miyaka approached Touya, her arms encircling his waist from behind with a hesitancy akin to a delicate breeze quivering through a forest of doubts. Her voice trembled, a blend of trepidation and contrition as she spoke. "I... I apologize if I misconstrued, Touya. The world here feels surreal, and my fear cast shadows over my judgment. Forgive me."

Touya's lips curled into a smile, hidden from her eyes. In her vulnerability, her heartstrings resonated to his voice's enchanting tune. The pieces of his plan were falling into place as he desired.

He released a deep, contemplative sigh, his fingers gently caressing the arms wrapped around his waist. His voice, a velvet whisper, embraced the still night air. "Yes, I saved you. If I were the monster you fear, you would have been my meal the very day you graced the water with your presence. But, dear miss, I forgive you, for there's something about you that intrigues me."

Miyaka's voice quivered as she made her request, her longing for confirmation overpowering her doubts. "Touya," she murmured, the name like a sweet melody on her lips, "would you... kiss me? To anchor this moment in reality, to assure me that I'm not merely adrift in some dream?"

Touya's hands gently slid to Miyaka's, separating them from his waist. He released himself from her embrace and turned to face her, his smile still present as he cupped her face with his cool palms. "Sirens are known for granting wishes. Your wish is my command, fair lady," he whispered softly before leaning in to kiss her.

Their kiss was both slow and intense, a dance of desire and mystery. Touya's sharp teeth clanked against hers, but he quickly took control of the kiss, his forked tongue parting her lips, exploring her mouth.

Miyaka responded eagerly to Touya's kiss, her initial hesitation giving way to a surge of desire and curiosity. Her hands began to explore his physique with a boldness she hadn't known she possessed. Fingers traced the lines of his pale skin, feeling the strange yet alluring texture of his body. As their lips moved in a passionate dance, her fingers traveled from his chest to his back and further south, grasping his ass. Her tongue danced with his.

Touya blinked, and retreated, his gaze locked on her with a smug, playful smile dancing on his lips. He ran his tongue over his mouth. "Behold, dear lady, clutching a monster’s ass, nurtured by the wild with manners undefined?" he mused with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Miyaka's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as she felt the heat of embarrassment wash over her. She stammered out an apology, her words a mixture of guilt and confusion. "I'm... I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice quivering. "I don't know why I did that. It was impulsive, and I should never have... I didn't mean to offend you." Her eyes averted, unable to meet his gaze, she felt a strange mixture of attraction and shame clouding her judgment.

The monster chuckled, capturing her lips with a playful kiss, his palm caressing her cheek. This time, his arms enveloped her waist, and his hands embarked on a slow journey downward, firmly fondling her ass.

Miyaka's gaze locked with Touya's as she struggled to find the words to convey her complex feelings. "Touya," she began, her voice filled with uncertainty, "I want to be with you, but I'm lost. I don't know what to do or how to navigate this... connection we have... What am I supposed to do?"

Touya emitted a soft, melodic hum, gently pressing his forehead to hers. "You see, my dear, you have the power to rid yourself of your tormentor, to break free from those chains that bind you. Return to me, and I shall envelop you in a love that knows no bounds, a love that will shield and cherish you," he whispered, his words like a seductive melody.

Dabi couldn't contain his satisfaction. He marveled at how effortlessly he manipulated her. She was not only surrendering herself willingly, but she was also unwittingly becoming a pawn in his sinister game. The thrill of her impending arrival, the promise of chaos in her wake — oh, how he relished it all!

In that surreal moment, Miyaka found herself strangely drawn to the merman's words. The idea of breaking free from her tormentor, of taking control of her own destiny, it all felt so tempting, so liberating. The plan that had sounded wrong at first now seemed like the path she was meant to take, the one that would finally lead her to a life free from the clutches of her abusive husband.

She hesitated for just a moment, the weight of her decision sinking in, and then, with newfound determination, she whispered, "Yes... I'll do it. I'll break free from him, no matter what it takes."

Using his seductive voice, he whispered into her ear, his tone laced with malice, "Do it. Show him what you're truly made of, and we shall be bound together for eternity." His words were a siren's call, leading her deeper into the abyss of darkness that he reveled in.

Touya watched Miyaka's retreating figure, a sinister smile curling on his lips as he imagined the torment he would inflict upon her. To him, she was nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game, a foolish woman who had fallen right into his meticulously set trap. The prospect of torturing her and relishing in her suffering thrilled him.

_____________________________

That night Miyaka found herself trapped in a nightmare. She stood alone in a strange, dark room that seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. There was no light, no discernible features, just an overwhelming sense of oppressive darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

The first thing that assaulted her senses was the pungent scent of blood, heavy and metallic, hanging in the air like a suffocating fog. It clung to her, filling her nostrils with a sickening, nauseating aroma that made her stomach churn with dread.

As she cautiously took a step forward, her footsteps echoed eerily in the void, the sound resonating through the darkness. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the fear intensifying with each passing moment. She called out for help, but her voice seemed to vanish into the abyss, swallowed by the oppressive silence.

The room felt like a labyrinth, a never-ending maze of despair. Miyaka's breath quickened, and her skin prickled with a cold, clammy sweat. Panic welled up inside her as she desperately searched for an escape, but the darkness remained unyielding, trapping her in its suffocating grip.

In the next moment, the oppressive darkness was pierced by a strange, eerie light that suddenly illuminated a portion of the floor in front of her. The ghastly scene that unfolded was horrifying beyond imagination.

There, sprawled out in a grotesque and mangled state, lay a heavily destroyed female body. It bore the unmistakable marks of teeth, deep and savage, along with numerous bruises and cuts inflicted by sharp, brutal claws. The sight was enough to make her blood run cold, and a wave of revulsion surged through her.

The lifeless figure on the ground seemed to be a cruel testament to unimaginable violence. It was as if some malevolent force had unleashed its fury upon this unfortunate soul, leaving behind a gruesome tableau of suffering and torment.

Miyaka's breath hitched, and her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed upon this macabre scene. The strange light continued to flicker, casting eerie shadows that danced across the lifeless form. She felt a suffocating dread wash over her, realizing that she was trapped, unable to escape the horrors that lurked in the shadows.

Suddenly, amidst the surreal horror, Miyaka heard a grotesque noise that resembled something being voraciously chewed. Her heart raced as she turned her head to the side slowly, where the eerie light flickered once more, revealing a chilling sight.

In the dim illumination, she saw a dark figure, unmistakably Touya, slowly devouring a still-beating heart held in his clawed hands. His sharp claws dug into the quivering meat of the organ, his eyes glinting with a sinister hunger.

The gruesome scene played out before her eyes, and she was paralyzed with terror, unable to look away from the horrifying spectacle unfolding in this twisted nightmare. Miyaka's terror reached its zenith as she opened her mouth in a desperate attempt to scream, but to her horror, no sound escaped her lips. Her voice had been stolen by the darkness surrounding her.

The next moment, she was outside, and the moon hung low in the obsidian sky, casting a sinister pallor over the desolate landscape. The eerie silence was shattered by the mournful cries of ghostly sea creatures that drifted ominously in the air, their twisted forms contorted in agony.

Amidst this nightmarish scene, the water's surface rippled and churned, as if it were alive with malevolent intent. From the inky depths, a grotesque figure emerged. It was Touya, but he bore no resemblance to the benevolent creature she had encountered before. His once-lustrous white hair now hung in limp, tangled strands, darkened with the stains of blood and decay. His eyes, once mesmerizing pools of turquoise, were now empty voids, devoid of any humanity. His scales and fins had become jagged and twisted, oozing with an otherworldly ichor.

Touya's mouth gaped open unnaturally wide, revealing rows of serrated teeth, each one gleaming with an eerie luminescence. He lurched toward Miyaka, his movements disjointed and unnatural, as if he were a puppet controlled by some malevolent force. With a gut-wrenching lurch, his grotesque form surged out of the water, and he loomed over her, his breath rancid and putrid. He reached out with his twisted, clawed hands, and ripped right through her chest, pulling her heart out; his touch sent a searing pain through her body.

The next moment, Miyaka found herself standing at the edge of the dark lake once more, alone. The haunting memories of what she witnessed still lingered, but a strange compulsion had drawn her back to this place.

She began to undress, her trembling fingers fumbling with the fabric of her dress. The moonlight cast a silvery glow on her as she shed each layer, leaving her vulnerable in the night. The cool breeze rustled the leaves in the surrounding woods, and the night seemed to hold its breath, as if nature itself watched in anticipation. With each piece of clothing that fell to the ground, she felt a strange sense of liberation, as if she was shedding not just fabric but the weight of her past as well. She stood bare under the moonlight, the lake's dark waters reflecting her silhouette.

Miyaka shivered, whether from the cold or from the anticipation of the unknown, she couldn't tell.

As the woman stood by the edge of the lake, the moonlight illuminating her bare form, a sudden change in the atmosphere caught her by surprise. Without warning, the heavens opened, and rain began to pour down in a torrential downpour.

The raindrops drenched her, mingling with the tears that had welled up in her eyes. She felt the cool water cascade down her skin, as if nature itself wept for the strange and unsettling journey she had embarked upon.

The rain intensified, soaking the earth around her and turning the once-silent night into a cacophony of sound. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

As another loud clap of thunder echoed through the night, the world seemed to vibrate with its intensity. Miyaka stood drenched and shivering, the rain pouring down around her, when something utterly unexpected unfolded before her eyes.

From the dark depths of the lake, a figure began to emerge. Slowly and deliberately, Touya materialized, his form once again taking on a human shape. The rain-slicked water glistened on his bare skin, accentuating the contours of his body.

He stepped out of the lake, his movements graceful and unhurried, and stood before her in all his naked glory. The moonlight and raindrops played tricks with the shadows and highlights on his body, creating an almost ethereal, mesmerizing effect.

Miyaka's heart raced, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from this captivating sight. The storm raged around them, but in this moment, it was as if time had stood still, and the world held its breath in the presence of the enigmatic creature before her.

She watched helplessly as Touya's delicious naked body walked purposefully towards her. She felt as though her heart were consumed by a white-hot fire, and was being stabbed with a thousand needles, and she didn't know why. Never had she felt a pain even remotely like this before; it was horrendous. It was a pain she would never wish upon anybody, even a foe.

Touya wrapped his arms around Miyaka, pulling her close, and they both sank to their knees on the wet sand. The storm raged fiercer around them.

Touya, with a powerful force, pushed Miyaka down onto the ground, pinning her beneath his weight, the storm's intensity mirroring the tempestuous passion that had ignited between them.

Miyaka parted her lips, rolling her head back, as Touya's lips found the sweet spot on her exposed neck. His mouth closed over it, and a shiver of pleasure coursed through her as he gently sucked on the sensitive area, right where her pulse point was located.

The merman, displaying skill and patience, gently inserted two fingers into her, his groan reflecting the tightness he encountered. Leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along her body, his head descended to her pussy, where he proceeded to wrap his lips around her needy core. Two fingers gently ran across her clit, up and down, up and down.

The woman moaned in pleasure at his fingers massaging her insides.

Touya seemed to be savoring every moment, leisurely tracing his tongue along her slit. His captivating turquoise eyes locked onto her, a mischievous smirk gracing his face as he reveled in the heavenly expression on her face. His forked tongue, with expert precision, skillfully explores every tantalizing crevice, evoking a passionate response that leaves her drenched with desire.

They shifted their positions, with her now kneeling between Touya's legs. She proceeded with deliberate and seductive movements, using her soft hands to sensually stroke his aroused member. A smile of satisfaction graced Miyaka’s lips as she noticed the uncontrollable moan that escaped the merman's mouth when her tongue made contact with the engorged head of his throbbing shaft.

A heated tongue writhed sloppily inside of her cunt, catching Miyaka off guard once more.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she surrendered to the intense pleasure coursing through her. In a symphony of blissful moans and gasps, she couldn't contain herself, her body quivering as Touya's skilled hand rubbed her swollen clit raw.

Soon, Miyaka mounted Touya, aligning his throbbing dick with her glistening, slick entrance. She eased his impressive length into her eager pussy, relishing the intense sensation of being stretched beyond what her husband had ever provided.

Touya's hands firmly gripped Miyaka's hips, and he drove himself into her with unrestrained fervor, lost in the primal rhythm of their connection. Each powerful thrust was accompanied by a guttural growl leaving his lips.

Miyaka's breath caught in her throat as she rested her hands on Touya's chiseled chest, snapping her hips back and forth, riding him like he would be a wild stallion.

Her young body quivered as the successive waves of her climax surged through her. Miyaka's breathing quickened, and her gaze appeared to lose focus as if her eyes were drifting backward. She rode Touya for what felt like an eternity, and then, in a sudden motion, she forcefully slammed down on his throbbing dick, her pussy muscles clenching tightly around his shaft. As she relaxed her pussy slightly, merman shot hot, sticky ropes of cum deep within her core. Miyaka leaned forward to share a passionate kiss with him; their tongues danced together.

As the ecstasy of the moment began to fade, Miyaka's senses returned, and she suddenly became aware of the rain growing thicker around them. But to her profound horror, when she reluctantly opened her eyes after breaking the passionate kiss with Touya, she realized that it wasn't water pouring down upon them; it was a deluge of blood, staining everything in a nightmarish crimson hue.

Miyaka wanted to scream, to release the overwhelming anguish that gripped her, but no sound escaped her lips. Instead, she felt like she was suffocating, the blood rain gathering in her nose, making each breath a painful struggle.

After she blinked, Miyaka found herself standing by the side of their marital bed, a sinister calmness in the room as her husband slept soundly. The air was heavy with the weight of her suppressed emotions, and in the distance, she could hear the cruel slurs and insults he had hurled at her throughout their troubled marriage. Each word echoed in her mind, a painful reminder of the torment she had endured.

The anger within her boiled over, a searing rage that consumed her. Unable to contain her emotions any longer, she reached out and began to strike his chest with a fury she had kept buried for far too long. Her screams filled the room as she unleashed the pent-up hatred she felt towards him, her voice cracking with the intensity of her emotions. "I hate you!" she screamed, her voice raw with bitterness. "I hate everything about you!" Her fists hammered down, each blow a cathartic release of the pain and suffering she had endured in silence for too many years. The room seemed to close in around her as she confronted the source of her torment, the darkness of the night bearing witness to her long-suppressed fury.

_____________________________

A haunting, low moan pulled Miyaka out of her nightmarish slumber. Confusion gripped her as she slowly opened her eyes, disoriented and uncertain of her surroundings. It took a few bewildering moments, but then the horrifying realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.

She stood next to her marital bed, her trembling hand gripping a bloodied butcher's knife. On the bed, the nightmarish scene unfolded before her eyes — her husband, lying there with numerous gruesome cuts to his chest and neck, blood pooling around him. His eyes, filled with terror, locked onto her with a fading, desperate gaze, his voice stolen by the brutality of his wounds.

Miyaka's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the gruesome tableau of violence she had somehow become a part of.

"Noooo!" Miyaka screamed. Her world shattered in a cacophony of horror as she screamed hysterically, the knife slipping from her trembling hand. Her husband's neck bled profusely, a torrent of crimson that stained everything it touched.

In sheer desperation, she pressed her trembling fingers against the gaping wound, trying to stem the relentless flow of blood. Warm, sticky liquid soaked through her delicate palms, mingling with her own tears splashing on top of her palms as they streamed down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry! Oh my God, what have I done?! What have I done?! Oh God!" Apologies escaped her trembling lips, choked with guilt and fear.

As Miyaka stood over her husband, the time seemed to slow down.

His once-threatening presence now lay vulnerable before her, his breaths shallow and labored. The weight of her decision bore down on her, and a tumultuous mix of emotions churned within her.

She knelt by his side, his life slipping away with each passing moment. His eyes, once filled with cruelty, now held a hint of fear and regret. The realization of what had transpired seemed to dawn on him in those final moments.

Miyaka watched as his chest rose and fell for the last time, his breaths growing weaker until they ceased altogether. His life ended in her arms, and as she looked down at him, a complex array of emotions washed over her — relief, sadness, and the haunting knowledge that her life had taken a dark turn. She had taken control of her destiny, but it had come at a cost she could never truly escape. The memory of his death would forever be etched into her soul. "What have I done..." Miyaka was whispering, her tears streaming uncontrollably.

The old maid, Yuki, was rudely awakened by the piercing screams that echoed through the once-quiet house. Fear gnawed at her as she rushed to the source of the disturbance, her trembling hands clutching the edges of her nightgown.

When she entered the room and laid eyes upon the nightmarish scene, Yuki’s own scream pierced the air. Horror contorted her features as she beheld the lifeless form of Miyaka's husband and the distraught Miyaka herself, tears streaming down her face.

Yuki, her voice shaking with dread, stammered, "What... What happened here, ma'am?! You... You murdered him!"

Miyaka, overwhelmed by the gruesome events, could only sob in response, trying to explain the inexplicable. She was lost in a maelstrom of emotions, her world unraveling before her eyes.

In the end, unable to bear the weight of her actions and the night's horrors, Miyaka made a fateful decision. She fled from the scene, her tear-streaked face a mask of desperation, and ran toward the only place she believed was safe — the dark embrace of the lake that had lured her with its eerie allure, where the enigmatic merman awaited her. Her mission was accomplished.

_____________________________

Touya's keen senses detected the hurried steps drawing nearer to the lake, and the unmistakable scent of blood hung heavy in the air. She had done it — Miyaka had followed through with their dark plan! He could already sense the turmoil coursing through her, her distress palpable.

With a predatory grace, he decided to rise to the surface of the water, and he waited there, anticipating her arrival.

Miyaka ran through the woods, her breath ragged and her heart pounding in her chest. Her once-silky, pink nightgown was now marred by dark stains of blood, a chilling testament to the horrors she had taken part in. Her long, dark hair was tangled and matted, wild strands framing her flushed cheeks.

She moved with a frantic urgency, her feet making a wet sound as they pounded against the damp earth. Every step took her farther away from the nightmarish scene she had left behind, but the memory of it clung to her like a shadow.

Miyaka reached the shore of the lake, her voice trembling as she called out for Touya. Her desperate cries echoed through the eerie stillness of the night, each plea carrying the weight of her fear and longing. "Touya!" she called, her voice quivering with emotion. "Please, I need you!" She scanned the dark waters, her heart racing in anticipation, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Touya's head emerged from the water, his wet hair clinging to his pale skin, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto her. "My love," he beckoned, his voice soothing yet strangely commanding. "Why the distress? Didn't I promise to protect you? Come to me, and find the safety and solace you seek." His words were laden with an irresistible invitation, drawing her deeper into his world.

Miyaka, trembling all over her body, took slow, hesitant steps into the water. Her tear-stained face glistened in the moonlight as she approached Touya, her heart heavy with guilt and despair. She continued to cry, her voice shaky as she began to tell Touya about what she had done. "I... I did it," she whispered, her voice quivering with remorse. "I... I followed your words, and I hurt him. He's gone now." Her confession hung in the air like a dark cloud, and she looked into Touya's eyes, seeking some form of understanding or absolution for the choices she had made.

The water enveloped Miyaka, and she shivered involuntarily as its icy coldness seeped into her skin. The sensation sent a shock of discomfort through her, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling within her. Her nightgown grew heavy, soaked with the icy water.

Touya extended his hand, gently seizing hers, and drew her closer, enveloping her in his warm embrace. One of his hands tenderly caressed her hair, his touch a deceptive contrast to the darkness that lay beneath.

He savored the sensation of her distress, finding it akin to sweet nectar, adding an intoxicating layer to the unfolding narrative of their entwined destinies.

"My sweet Miyaka," he murmured, his voice laced with a sinister sweetness. "Such a good girl." His praise was both soothing and unsettling, as he reveled in the intricate web of emotions he had woven around her.

Miyaka found solace in Touya's embrace, even as her body went numb from the cold water. His presence provided a strange comfort that she couldn't quite explain.

She looked up at him, her voice quivering, and asked in a trembling whisper, "What... What do we do now?" The world around her had descended into chaos, and she clung to him as her anchor in this bewildering nightmare.

Touya held her in a tight embrace, "I shall shield you, for you are mine," he said with eerie grace.

Miyaka looked up at Touya with worry in her eyes, her voice filled with desperation. "My maid... she saw what happened. I can't return to the estate. What should I do now?"

The monstrous being scoffed dismissively. "Don't concern yourself with that old hag. She knows nothing. You are under my protection now, and you shall remain safe for all time."

Miyaka snuggled closer to Touya, resting her head on the crook of his neck for comfort. Her curiosity piqued, she asked in a soft voice, "Touya, what are those dark purple spots on your skin? I forgot to ask earlier..."

"That's how my body looks," Touya replied openly, "They are just marks from years ago when some sailors tried to burn me alive after I killed their captain on the open sea."

Miyaka's eyes widened as she listened to his gruesome story. She struggled to reconcile this dark tale with the merman who had saved her and told her he had never attacked anyone. She asked, her voice filled with uncertainty, "But... you saved me, and you said you've never harmed anyone. I don't understand, Touya..."

"Perhaps it's because you're nothing more than a naive, little human," Touya chuckled, his hold on her growing stronger.

Miyaka winced as Touya's grip tightened, causing discomfort. She mustered the courage to speak up, her voice trembling. "Touya, your hold is hurting me," she said softly. "Please, let's not be unkind..."

"Well, my dear, I need to ensure my prized possession won't simply slip through my fingers," he remarked with a sinister smile. "Oh, I've been waiting for this moment for so long — to have you back in my embrace."

Miyaka attempted to slip out of Touya's strong embrace, but her efforts were in vain. Instead, a sudden force of his hands pushed her beneath the water's surface, and panic surged through her. She thrashed and struggled, desperate for air and to break free from the grip that had become suffocating.

Her distress only seemed to heighten his pleasure. The sight of her desperately thrashing around, fighting for her own life, sent a thrilling wave of excitement through him.

The merman seized a handful of Miyaka's hair and yanked her back up, a cruel grin on his face as she gasped for air. "Did you truly believe that I would want a pathetic human like you?" he taunted with a chilling edge to his words.

Tears streamed down Miyaka's face as she sobbed, her voice trembling with desperation. "Why are you being so cruel and nasty?!" she pleaded, her distress palpable in her words. "I love you, and I did what you told me to do so we could be together, Touya!"

Her cries echoed through the dark waters, mixing with the eerie ambiance of their surroundings. Her huge distress was like a storm within her, a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to consume her. She continued, her voice broken and filled with anguish, "You... you visited me in my dreams, brought me pleasure... Why are you doing this now?!"

Touya's voice dripped with cruelty as he responded, "Visit someone as pathetic as you? Never. But it seems my voice has indeed worked wonders on you." He playfully tugged at her hair even harder, causing her pain. "To me, you're nothing more than a piece of meat, and I take great pleasure in tormenting naive humans like you. It adds a delightful flavor to the meal." His words sent a chill down her spine as the darkness of their situation enveloped her.

The merman summoned his strength and, with a powerful motion, pulled Miyaka beneath the water with him.

Her world plunged into darkness and turmoil as she was dragged into the depths of the lake, her struggles intensifying as she fought against the relentless force pulling her down. Sinister shadows danced around her, and she felt a suffocating pressure in her chest as the water closed in on her.

The eerie silence of the underwater world was broken only by the sound of her muffled cries. She could see Touya's malevolent grin in the dim light, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. The water seemed to press against her, threatening to crush her as she struggled for breath, her desperate gasps for air drowned by the malevolent embrace of the lake.

Dabi launched a relentless assault on Miyaka. His sharp claws tore through the water, leaving vicious trails in their wake. With terrifying swiftness, he closed the distance between them, his razor-sharp teeth bared in a menacing grin. He attacked with ruthless ferocity, his claws raking across her skin, and his teeth sinking into her flesh. The water around them turned crimson as the horrifying struggle unfolded, and Miyaka's desperate cries were silenced by the watery abyss that enveloped them.

Miyaka's nightgown offered little protection as Touya's relentless assault continued. With a vicious tear, the delicate fabric was rent asunder, leaving her exposed to the cold, merciless waters of his lake.

Touya's clawed hands gently cradled Miyaka's cheeks, holding her gaze with a cold, unfeeling intensity. Their eyes locked in a chilling embrace as she struggled to hold onto the last remnants of breath in her burning lungs, each painful gasp a stark reminder of her impending doom.

In that haunting moment, beneath the unforgiving waters, they were locked in a macabre dance of predator and prey.

With a swift and cruel motion, Touya pierced Miyaka's chest with his clawed hand, the flesh yielding easily to his monstrous strength. A searing pain shot through her. Dark haired woman's senses barely registered the horrifying reality of what was happening. The world around her dissolved into a surreal blur, and the excruciating pain in her chest seemed distant, as if happening to someone else. As her life ebbed away, her consciousness faded into a murky abyss, and the last remnants of her existence were swallowed by the cold, merciless waters of the lake.

Touya tore the beating heart from her chest, the organ pulsating in his grip, still warm and alive. As he held it before him, the last vestiges of life ebbed away from Miyaka, her body going limp.

Touya, with a grotesque hunger, sank his sharp teeth into the still-beating heart he held in his clawed hand. The organ yielded to his bite, and the taste of youth surged into his mouth. He savored the sickeningly sweet taste.

Once he had consumed the last morsel of Miyaka's essence, Touya's malevolent gaze turned towards the lifeless body he still held by the arm. A fleeting pang of guilt tugged at his consciousness, but he quickly dismissed the emotion. "You're mine now, forever," he declared, his monstrous arms embracing the lifeless form. "You'll remain with me for all eternity, sweet naive girl, at the bottom of my lake."

Touya, in a sinister tone, offered a twisted form of thanks to the lifeless Miyaka. "Thank you for your heart, love," he murmured, his voice laced with malevolence. "It has provided me with the strength I needed to regain my full power."

The waters of the lake seemed to shiver in response to his sinister words, bearing witness to the unholy pact forged in the depths.

After a moment of holding Miyaka's lifeless body close to his muscular chest, Touya swam further down into the unfathomable depths of the abyss that was the lake. With Miyaka's body firmly in his grasp, he descended into the darkness, disappearing from the realm of the living and vanishing into the watery tomb that was his dominion.

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forgeofthenine · 8 days

Note

OKAY, I was thinking about tiefling weddings and like, I thought a cute little tradition before the wedding would be like, the husband helping his wife put on her jewelry. Brides where a lot of jewelry, passed down from their mother and grandmother's so like ankles, tail bangles, bracelets, necklaces, earrings and horn hoops and I was inspired by that one line from Ride the cyclone (Werid I know stick with me) where one of the characters says "I lay down my masculinity at the alter of your womanhood", I thought it'd be like a cute tradition, as a way to show that the husband will always help his bride, even with the most Mundane or simple tasks like putting on jewelry to help his bride in the future bc of all she will do for him in the future (like making the home, baring and caring for children). A sort of wat of putting aside a man's pride and masculinity, a meeting of femininity and masculinity to bind one life together, if any of this makes sense lol

I honestly love tiefling weddings so much. I feel like different tiefling communities would do different things, seeing as tieflings are generally quite spread out as a race and don't have a true 'home' per say like other races would. I could definitely see some having grooms helping their brides get all dolled up in jewellery and pretty ribbons, especially in a ceremonial context. Similarly to how handfasting works, this could definitely be like a public commitment from the groom to always care for his new wife in all ways. I feel like both Dammon and Zevlor would be partial to these particular traditions.

I feel like alternatively other communities would refuse to let any men near the brides chambers as she and the women getting ready. Tear filled moments of mothers and sisters and aunts caring for the bride and spoiling her with attention one last time before she starts her life as a married woman with her husband (and likely prepares to start a family of her own) I definitely feel like this suits Rolan better, and Lia would love joining the other women in dressing up his wife to be and sharing embarrassing stories of him.

Either way, tiefling weddings would be an absolute joy to attend. We already know the refugees throw a decent party and this would be even better lmao

#bri answers #bri rambles #bg3 #bg3 dammon #bg3 zevlor #bg3 rolan #bg3 tiefling

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cherryjuiceblues · 9 months

Note

is it too early to ask for a sneakyyyyyy?

NOT AT ALL!!!!! i was literally just about to ask if anyone wanted one :D great minds 🫶 here u go !!

“Sweet girl,” he traces her upper lip with the pad of his thumb, sliding past to brush the round of her cheek. His voice lacks his usual soft inflection and his face stays hard. “Came to bring me my lunch like a good friend.” She frowns, pulling her head back with sad eyes. Harry’s presence looms over her as she perches on his desk. What is usually a comforting and safe crowding of space now feels discomforting to Y/N. She doesn’t want him so near if he’s upset with her. If he’s upset with her she wants to run away—move countries in fact.

He closes his eyes, brows relaxing, and then he leans forward to rest his forehead against hers in a short window of reprieve. “It’s okay. Let me be spiteful. Let me, love.” It’s confusing—of course it is. What he’s asking of her is completely unreasonable! But she’s… she’s perfect, she’s a wonder; an angel reincarnated. Because she nods slowly, unsure and hesitant, and then he kisses her gently. An only slightly lingering enmeshment of lips. Then he steps back.

“Lock my door,” Y/N lags a little but she listens. Harry hadn’t even taken note of her dress; pretty in silky pink—a portrait from a wedding. But he likes that she kept it on to come here, no matter the formality in which she suggests. He can’t deny he admires too, the speed in which the fabric can be loosened from her shoulders. Two dainty straps to push aside and pool the silk at her middle. “Good girl, sit back down.”

“I’m very busy today, Y/N,” he spans his hands over her knees, “I don’t have the time to be dealing with you professing our friendship all over my workplace. Because now—” Harry steps impossibly closer and edges the hem of her dress a few centimetres up her thighs, “now, I need to alter your definition of the word.”

Y/N doesn’t quite know how much Harry is playing. If a part of him is upset but he’s channelling it into sexual energy, if he’s punishing her for coming to see him—clearly something about the way she’d described their relationship has riled him up—Y/N’s not that oblivious. But she’s not a mind reader… and Harry has never been stern with her like this.

It feels fitting to use his preferred honorific. “Sir…” she whispers, unsure of what exactly to say to him. “Have I done something wrong?” It’s a reasonable question.

Harry drags his blunt nails across the tops of her knees. “No,” flattening his palms to slip under the silk until his fingertips tease the satiny skin above the hem of her panties. Y/N grips the edge of the desk with clammy hands. She’s not convinced… but she’s also not inclined to ask anymore questions—she finds that she trusts him regardless—a new discovery considering they’ve never had a conversation so tense before. But it relaxes Y/N a little to realise she still feels safe.

But she isn’t so wrong to wonder if this is a punishment.

With his soft fingertips trailing underneath her dress, his thighs pressing into her knees and his face looking down at her, shadowed by the harsh line of his brows, Y/N feels small. She feels as though he could squeeze into her skin and shrink her down into the palm of his hand, push her back with his strong legs and pin her to his desk, and burn her with the stoniness of his glower.

Those things do happen, in minimised ways, but in order for Harry to reach her neck—as he heavily leans forward for—it’s sort of unavoidable that Y/N’s body makes room. That her head tilts back, and her thighs widen, and her lips part in a silent gasp when he kisses underneath her ear. It’s deceivingly sweet—the sound his mouth makes when it parts from her skin. A quiet smacking and gentle breaths hitting her neck. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut and she just feels as Harry kisses her. Parted lips paying attention to the spot that he knows makes her melt and hands—that manage to balance being soft and rough at the same time—scratching against the tops of her thighs.

Y/N moans quietly into the air, knuckles tightening against the desk when she feels Harry’s teeth tease the underneath of her jaw. Then he takes her skin between them and nibbles—rolling, teasing, harassing the sensitive flesh in a way that makes Y/N squirm. She can almost feel her blood rushing to the surface, hooting and hollering to make an appearance on her neck. Look at us! We’re desired! She hopes and prays her red blood cells choose to calm down. Because Harry certainly isn’t going to… and Y/N finds that she doesn’t want him to either.

His hands push upwards underneath her dress to the bottom of her stomach, and then back to her thighs, and then to her hips. Almost frustrated in the restriction of his movement. And then he lifts her just slightly, enough to pull her dress from underneath her bum and pool on top of her thighs. The cool wood makes Y/N jump a little, straight into Harry as he crowds even closer to her mollifying body. Now much more satisfied with the easier access to the state of her undress, he squeezes her waist with bruising fingertips and tugs her quickly wettening front to his own hardening one.

“Do you do this with your friends, Y/N?” He bites down particularly hard and she gasps.

“No,” her voice barely carries as she tries to shake her head.

“No?” Harry pulls back, lips wet and pupils large, feigning shock, “So, are we not friends?”

“We are!” She pleads, trembling fingers tangling in the front of his shirt.

But Harry disagrees. “No. I am not your friend.”

Y/N’s head scrambles, the high of his lips on her neck providing it difficult to maintain conversation. “I don’t—” She didn’t want to ask ‘what are we?’. It felt so juvenile.

Harry takes her earlobe into his mouth before trailing back down, across her jaw and all the way to her chin. Down the column of her throat and back up to the underneath of her ear. He kisses, and licks, and sucks. And marks. Then he loosens his tie and removes her hands from his shirt. “Hold your wrists together,” he demands, voice deep and commanding. Y/N’s heart beats like a warning—unable to identify that she’s as safe as she can be—and her mouth dries out completely when she realises what he’s about to do. His tie around her wrists, looping through and underneath her hands to incarcerate them entirely.

#anon #sneaky #sneak peek #mutually beneficial #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #domrry #dom!harry

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lamodacustomtailors · 5 months

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aztailorsuk · 3 months

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The Importance of Wedding Dress Alterations: Ensuring Comfort and Confidence on Your Big Day

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aztailorandalteration · 5 months

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rosewaterandivy · 7 months

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Epilogue | for once in my life

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C: 5.7k

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, yearning, Tuscan summers, a flashback or two, a wedding, and my usual filth™️

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me while I worked on an ending for our two beloved idiots. 🥺 Truthfully, part of me put off writing the epilogue simply because I didn’t want to let Trouble and Steve go— they’re so near and dear to me! But, all good things must come to an end and I hope I’ve given them a fitting one. Thank you all for reading along and sharing your joy with me, it’s been incredible to experience! 💜💜💜

Series masterlist | Series Playlist | trouble will find me (for Trouble, most ardently) | rebel without a clue (for Steve, with love)

The distance was difficult, only mitigated by the positively unreal Tuscan summer. Though the university was in Bologna in the Emilia-Romagna region, since your classes centered on Dante, you along with a few other students, called Florence your home away from home for the summer.

The sun shone bright and hot against the ancient stones of Palazzo Medici Riccardi, and felt good against your back as you lazed in the garden and courtyard on a rare day off from combing through medieval texts in jam-packed libraries and dust motes floating through the air.

Crossing the bustling street you popped into your local gelateria only to be greeted with an exuberant, “Bella!” from Alessandro behind the counter. “Finally you grace us with your presence,” He teases, already scooping out a serving of arancia rossa sorbetto for you into a cup.

“Grazie,” You say with a smile, taking the sorbetto from his outstretched hand. “Had a slow start to the morning is all, Sandro.”

“Certo, I know how it is,” He says with a knowing wink.

To be fair, the slow start to the day was warranted, given the stress-induced dream you had last night. There you were, minding your own business, thinking about Steve and the voice note he’d left you earlier, and the next thing you know, your brain decided a trip down memory lane was warranted.

“But what do I do about the dress?” Your voice is choked, tongue stumbling over the words.

It hangs in your closet, mocking you. A pink dust bag with an elegant calligraphy card that lists your former wedding date and ex-fiancé’s last name. Robin’s fingers graze the zipper on the garment bag, fingers slowly settling along the pull.

“You could try it on?”

She says it as if she wishes she didn’t have to, as if the next time you would put on the wedding dress would be for the alteration appointment which you had already canceled, along with everything else.

Truthfully, the day you found the dress wasn’t at all what you expected it to be. Sure, you’d looked around online and at a few boutiques with Nancy, Robin, your mother, and would-be mother-in-law. Nothing struck your fancy though, each dress you slipped on had something wrong with it— too tight, too loose, too many embellishments, not enough embellishments, too heavy...

It was Steve who suggested the boutique, actually. One of his mother’s friends had a daughter who’d gotten her dress from a place in Indianapolis and said the service and selection were both top-notch. So you went and made a day trip out of it; Eddie and Steve would drop you and the girls off at the boutique and hang out in the city for the day.

Though, they really did try to weasel their way in to the appointment.

“The fact that you won’t let us join you is misandry.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “No, it isn’t, Eds!”

“Okay,” he relents, turning around to face you in the backseat, “Maybe not misandry, but definitely discriminatory. Dudes just wanna have fun!”

Steve laughs, pulling up in front of the boutique, waves to your mother who’s waiting on the sidewalk. “Y’never know,” he teases, “Could need a second opinion in there. Especially once they open the champagne.”

Eddie squawks at that, “You get to try on dresses and drink booze? I’m offended I’ve been left out here.”

Robin opens the backdoor with a roll of her eyes, “No boys allowed, dingus.”

You follow suit, giving Steve a small smile, “Thanks for driving us.”

His gaze softens, eyes meeting yours, “Happy to help. Now, go find a stunner in there for us, will ya?”

With a shake of your head, you bring yourself back to the moment. Sitting on the floor of your former home, moving boxes and tape littering the floor ready for you to pack up the pieces of your life. You look to Robin again, she’s unzipped the garment bag entirely revealing the bodice and skirt of the gown.

She watches you thoughtfully, “I mean, just to see if you still like it? That way we’ll know if we need to pack it or sell it.”

Sighing, you wipe your damp palms against your thighs and stand up. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Okay.”

Between the two of you, you managed to wrestle into the dress. Robin securing the delicate straps as you adjust the cups and situate yourself. The door creaks open to reveal Nancy, her eyes bright with interest.

Robin gives up with her attempts to fix the zipper and numerous buttons on the back, steps aside for Nancy to intervene.

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” Robin says, voice soft. “It looks amazing on you! Same as the day we found it.”

“It’s one hell of a dress.” Nancy agrees, the zipper pull sliding home. “No one would say no to you in that.”

Your laugh comes out as a choked thing, wet and raspy. You wipe your eyes in an effort to prevent any tears from falling. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t even have to see the dress to know that he no longer wanted you.

“Thanks, guys.”

Feeling brave enough to look at the mirror, you pause in perusal. And sure enough, it’s a stunner. Delicate lace embellished the corseted bodice, waist nipped just enough to amplify the bust. The skirt flowed down in layers of silk and tulle, the lace accenting the frothy peaks and valleys of it.

Turning, you noticed the low-dip of the back, highlighted by the beginnings of the train. It was a gown meant for a cathedral wedding, a long aisle as you walked toward the altar. A beautiful wedding dress for a wedding that no longer was.

It was getting difficult to justify keeping it.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, bursting into the room slack-jawed, “Your tits look great!”

Robin smacks him, “No boys allowed, dingus!”

“Yeah, Eddie, don’t you know what a closed door means?”

He grins, “I think we know by now that, no, I clearly do not.”

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, you turn to Nancy eyes wide. “Nance, the door–”

She shuts it quickly, keeping a hand on the knob. Robin and Eddie stop their bickering long enough to share a meaningful glance. You fist the full of the skirt in both hands and motion for Robin’s help in getting the dress off.

“Uh.” Steve says, voice muffled through the closed door, “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing!” You’re quick to respond, trying and failing to keep the panic from your voice, “Just packing up some stuff.”

“Riiiight.” He drawls, “Then do I hear Eddie in there talking about tits?”

“Hey man,” Eddie says in his own defense. “I just wandered in here, I know nothing.”

“And why is the door locked?”

Nance’s eyes go to the doorknob as it jiggles in her hand. “We’re trying to figure out what to do with the dress,” she says in a breathless rush.

If looks could kill, Nancy would have dropped to the floor. You narrow your eyes at her and turn with a huff.

“What dress— t-the wedding dress?”

“Yes, Steve.” Robin sighs. “That’s the one.”

The doorknob swivels again, “C’mon, just open the door guys. Eddie’s seen it and I am officially the only one who hasn’t.”

“No!” You shout.

Everyone stops to look at you, eyes wide.

“I mean,” you sputter indignantly, stepping out of the dress and throwing on your overly large t-shirt. “S’not a big deal, I’ll probably sell it, anyway.”

Robin and Eddie maneuver it back into the garment bag with a zip just as Nancy steps away from the door, gaze soft taking in your drawn face.

Steve stumbles in soon after to find you, pants-less, the hem on your shirt grazing your bare thighs, furiously taping boxes closed and scribbling in sharpie.

“Nothing to see here!” You say, stumbling into your bike shorts, tugging them back up. “No siree, nothing at all.”

His chest falls slightly, looking from you to the pink garment bag and back again. Robin catches the minute change in his expression before he’s picking up a box and carrying it out into the hall, not a word to be said about the dress.

And all that runs through your mind is a frantic buzz of ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress.’ Never mind that you were no longer a bride and Steve was never your intended groom. Any rational know-how kicked from your thoughts in an echo of your hammering heart.

Why your exhausted brain conjured up that particular episode, you had no idea. The instance was promptly forgotten, the dress stored at your parent’s place, and Steve never brought it up again.

Thank God for that.

Maybe it was because of Nancy and Jonathan’s looming nuptials. He’d popped the question not long after Nance moved in, and it had been full-steam ahead since March. The ceremony was to happen at the end of summer, just as your intensive was wrapping up.

She’d nearly had a coronary when you’d expressed your doubts about being able to attend.

“I’m not getting married without you Trouble, so sweet-talk those profs into letting you sit your exams early and get the fuck back home.” She sighs down the line, “There’s only so much of moping Steve we can take— Eddie is about ready to strangle him.”

You huff a laugh, “Yeah, I’m surprised he’s held out this long.”

“Yeah, she agrees dryly, "We all know you two'll take any excuse to get Steve in a headlock.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” You scoff. “That punk needs to be put in his place.”

You’d taken up Nance on her no-nonsense advice and your professors had graciously allowed you to submit your final papers early in order to make the wedding. Unfortunately, you’d miss out on a few of the celebrations like the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and rehearsal dinner— your flight would be landing just as the festivities began— but, Nancy and Jonathan had agreed to help you surprise the gang.

For all Robin, Eddie, and Steve knew there was absolutely, positively no way you could get out of your scheduled final exams. It sucked, as Robin rightfully pointed out, that you’d have to miss your best friend’s wedding but they all understood.

Steve was more hangdog about it than ever.

“Thanks Sandro,” You call out, plastic spoon in your mouth as you quickly step out the door, leaving a €5 note on the counter before he could stop you with a, “Your money is no good here, bella!”

Your phone buzzes in your bag, ducking under an awning your scramble through your well-worn tote bag to find it, throwing your sunglasses on in the process.

“Hey Fratty light,” You greet with a smile, spooning another cool helping of blood orange flavored ice into your mouth. “Do any good keg stands lately?”

Steve’s laugh nearly eclipses the warmth of the sun on your skin, a surge of heat building low in your stomach.

“At least I didn’t fall off the keg.”

“That was one time!” You scoff, jogging across the street before an aggressive Vespa can mow you down. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you give the driver the ombrello gesture and shout, “Vaffanculo!”

He chuckles at your outburst, “Tell ‘em babe!”

“I’ll have you know, I stuck that landing Harrington and, it was quite the crowd-pleaser if I recall.”

“Sure Trouble,” You can nearly hear the eye roll at your expense, “It was the landing and not the fact that you were wearing those panties.”

The fact that he remembered the pair in question has you reeling, you nearly run into a fellow pedestrian in your dazed state.

“Anyway,” You say, cleaning your throat. “What’s on the sad boy agenda for today? Getting into divorced dad rock, any Matchbox-20 or Creed in your future?”

“God, you’re awful, and no, thanks very much.”

You hear a door slam and a car engine turn over. Someone muttering about Steve’s ‘utter lack of taste’ in music— Eddie, without a doubt.

He sighs down the line, pulling on your heartstrings because you miss them all so damn much, but Steve most of all.

“Just helping with some wedding stuff.” His voice is softer, sadder knowing you won’t be there to celebrate with them. “Boring shit, you know.”

You hum in agreement, “Well I’ll let you get to it. Don’t let Eddie flirt with too many bridesmaids!”

“You got it, chief,” Steve says, “Take care of yourself babe.”

“You too, big boy.” A huff of laughter at hearing his scoff, “Byyyeeee.”

And maybe it happens like Nance said it would, things just fall into place when they’re meant to.

After a flight from hell— a toddler would not, for love or money, stop kicking the back of your seat on the evening flight from Milan to Berlin, and you were stuck in the backmost row from Berlin to Indianapolis on the red-eye. It was a miracle you rolled up to your parents' house in one piece. You’d arrive at the venue to get ready with the rest of the bridal party where you’d hopefully be able to keep Robin sworn to secrecy.

You weren’t above putting her into a headlock, if it came down to it.

Dress, shoes, and make-up bag hastily thrown in your mom’s car, you drove to the venue just outside of Hawkins. A lovely little outdoor property owned by a local family, groves of trees and the finest collection of wildflowers you’d ever seen— fitting for Nancy and Jonathan.

You arrive in a slightly mussed frenzy, arms weighed down with your bridesmaid dress and a weekend bag that did fuck-all to protect you from the sudden onslaught of summer rain. Cursing the permeability of Indiana summers, you walk swiftly toward the bridal cottage.

The squelch of your shoes and drops of rain accompany you across the tiled path. Breathe. A steady inhale pulls the comforting scent of petrichor to your lungs, tucked safely behind the cage of your ribs. A shift in the light, a cloud makes way for the sun to shine once more; you scramble for the club masters perched on your head, impossibly tangled (of course) in a damp nest of hair.

Pried free, you rest the glasses against your nose bridge and stroll to the door. Before you can wrestle a hand free to knock, the door swings open to reveal a tipsy Vickie and bemused Nancy. A smirk settles on your lips as the two shuffle you into the cottage, tutting at the state of your hair and general tardiness.

“It is a wedding y’know,” Vickie teases grabbing the canvas bag from you. “Could make an effort to be on time.” She drops a wink your way before absconding toward the vanity table to deliver your belongings elsewhere.

Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes, taking the dresses from your arm. “Ignore her,” she soothes, “Seems the title of temporary co-M.O.H. has gone straight to her head.” She shoves a flute of champagne into your empty hand and leads you inside. “But you’re here, so the title can rightfully fall to you.”

“And how is the blushing bride?” You smile, taking in her cool, calm demeanor.

She’s notoriously hard to ruffle, so you’re not surprised to find Nancy the same as ever, albeit a tad buzzed from the champagne.

“Fuck a duck!” Robin shouts, colliding with part of the doorway as she takes the corner to quickly in her haste to get to you, having heard your voice from down the hall. She trips falling into you in a quasi-hug that’s mostly all elbows jabbed into your ribs.

“Walk with dignity, you overgrown toddler,” You laugh sipping some champagne, wrapping your arm around her in a proper hug. She buries her face into your neck with a smile. “And before you even ask, no you cannot, under any circumstance, tell your emotional support Steve about this.”

You feel her frown before she pulls back from you, “I can keep a secret y’know.”

“I don’t doubt it Bucks, just wanna surprise him is all.”

“He has no idea? Oh shit, this is gonna be good.” She says with a cackle before trotting off to help Vickie with her dress.

“Alright Wheels,” You announce polishing off your flute of champagne, “Let me at it, where’s the hairspray?”

After furious coating of L’Oreal’s finest to her hair after you’d secured a few flowers in place, you cough in a haze of hairspray and sagely advise, “That’s good for three slow dances, two fast ones, and one Lambada…” You warn, capping the canister to set it aside. “But if you wanna mosh, I’d suggest another coat.”

Nancy laughs at the suggestion, “I think we’re good.” She checks your handiwork in the mirror with a smile, “Can I ask you something Trouble?”

“Shoot.”

She turns to face you and lowers her voice to a whisper while the other bridesmaids are busy with false eyelashes and zipping up dresses. “Have you given any thought to what I said back in May?”

Ah, that conversation. The one where she (lovingly) warned you off of Steve if you weren’t certain about your feelings for him. Your big, overwhelming feelings. As if you could forget them, even thousands of miles away.

“You know,” You begin, voice pitched to meet hers, “I had a bit of time to think over the summer, no distractions, just me and the Tuscan sun.”

She stands to slip into her dress and you follow to assist— it’s a beautiful number, all minimal sleek lines and fitted to her like a glove. Nancy is gorgeous, but Nancy on her wedding day is otherworldly. She dutifully turns for you to button up the back and arrange the train for photos.

“And?”

Your eyes meet in the mirror, hers curious but not prying, yours wide, reeling from it all— the pro/con lists, numerous conversations with your mom, Eddie, and Nance, the letters, emails, voice notes, calls and texts from Steve. Somehow, some way they all amounted to this:

“You remember my twenty-first birthday?”

“How could I forget,” She chuckles knowingly, “Spin the bottle, right?”

A nod, you busy yourself smoothing out the few lines in the silhouette of the dress. “And a bit of liquid courage.”

There is no good reason why the eight of you should be doing this. Back at the loft after a night of carousing and bar-hopping, imbibed enough complimentary birthday drinks that spin the bottle seemed like a good idea. Even if the bottle in question is some ridiculously expensive high-roller shit swiped from Mr. Harrington’s study.

You’re warm, leaning on Eddie’s shoulder and whispering in his ear— goading him about kissing someone. Steve hopes it’s not you.

The glass mouth of the bottle spins to a stop in front of Jonathan who groans loudly before clambering over the whoops and hollers.

“Lay it on ‘im Munson!”

You tip backwards and shriek in glee when their lips touch. Eddie returns to your side with a roll of his eyes, pokes your knee with his finger. “Pucker up, buttercup. You’re next.”

Argyle cracks his knuckles, taps his chin thoughtfully, “Alright chica.” He says, “Hope you get Nance or Vic. Make it nice and steamy up in here.”

Steve hopes it’s him and not Nancy, selfishly. The rest of them be damned, if the bottle lands on him he’s going to frog-leap over Eddie, shove him to the side and kiss you good. If it lands on anyone else, he may get arrested for murder tonight.

There’s really no excuse for it— the longing. Best friends since childhood who drifted apart because, as always, he was a dumbass. Kissed you all of one time after the Homecoming dance freshman year and that was barely a peck.

The bottle lands on Vickie.

Slightly tipsy and putting on a show, you bite your bottom lip and lean in, slanting your mouth over hers with a soft sigh. The sound sinks into Steve’s gut and he groans in agony— jealous you’d rather kiss his ex or the redhead rather than him. Nevermind that the bottle was nowhere near landing on him.

“Keep it PG, ladies!” Robin calls, “This is taking way too long!”

“Bucks, shut up. I’m trying to take a video.” Nancy slaps the phone from Eddie’s hand.

Having had enough of it all, Steve stands. “Not that this isn’t how I want to spend my night…” he mumbles, hands patting his thighs. “But I’m peacing out.”

You look up, distracted, and bottom lip a little wet from Vickie, eyes hazy from the long night of celebrating, and quirk your head. “You leavin’, Stevie? Wan’ me to walk you?”

“What— like he’s gonna get lost from here to his room?”

Steve is going to get arrested tonight for murdering Eddie. Tries to keep his cool, regardless.

“S’okay birthday girl, I’ll be fine. You have fun.”

You hop up anyway, a bit blundering in your step, and grab his hand to yank him forward. “C’mon… I gotcha.” Fortified with liquor, you tug him along, turning a corner and chattering about how as much as you appreciate that expensive whiskey, you’d rather have a beer. There’s nothing better than some pretzels, beer, and a movie.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry.” Your hand loosens before you pull it away, self-consciously.

“For what?”

“I know we haven’t been, like, close for a while now. I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

Oh. The realization dawns on him now, like a crash of lightning— you think he’s guarded… but he’s only been reserved for your sake.

He calls your name, followed by a murmured, “C’mere for a second.”

You lean against his bedroom door, dazed but curious. Steve steps forward until you’re nearly chest to chest, back against the wood. Your mouth opens with a nearly inaudible gasp, but he can see your pulse kick up in your throat. “Yeah?”

"You remember our first kiss?" He waits for you to nod before continuing. "I think I owe you a do-over."

Confusion flits across your face, a solitary brow quirked up in interest. "You wanna mulligan my first kiss, like... seven years after the fact?"

He ducks his chin in embarrassment, skin flushing with heat. "Yeah, I mean, if you're open to it?" He scratches the back of his neck and mumbles, "I just think you deserve better."

You bite your lip in thought, and Steve wants nothing more than to shrivel up and die— but then, you nod, and before he can think better of it, he takes his chance.

Purposefully, Steve tilts your face up fingers, trailing along your chin and jaw, thumbing the full of your bottom lip. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, all whooshes and erratic beats, almost enough to drown out the words that fall from his lips.

And then, the perfect genius that is Steve Harrington leans down to close the distance between you. Satisfied that your face is tilted just so, his hand sweeps back your hair to cradle your head as his lips descend to yours.

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in world— like it isn’t past three in the morning and you’re about a minute from slipping under. He kisses lazy, slow, and sublime. Presses you closer to him, an arm winding around your waist to pull you from the wall. More, kissing—tongues and lips and teeth— more of that touch you’ve only dreamed about and you want to kick yourself for missing it, for even daring to fantasize when the real thing is so much more.

Your palms are on his chest, pawing at him for leverage, struggling to refrain from bucking your hips up into him like you so desperately want to do. Steve pulls back with a contented sigh, and you’re surprised there isn’t a string of saliva strung between the pair of your for all the swapping spit that just occurred. There’s nothing but you and him. His gaze, so tentative and sweet, meets yours briefly as he stands back hands shoved quickly into his pockets.

“I meant something like that.”

Your mouth tugs at a corner, as if you could laugh or cry. Or smile.

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle, brandishes a small, hopeful smile, and runs a hand through his hair.

You nod. And it’s enough.

“I–I think I’ve known for a while.” You admit sheepishly, looking for any last-minute adjustments that need to be made before the precessional. One hand grasping her train, you follow Nancy toward the door. Taking a shaky breath in, you say, "Guess some part of me has been in love with him since I fell off the fence and into his backyard that first summer."

She stops short and turns back to you elated because she knows the story all too well. Steve doesn't get drunk enough to talk about it often–- the man has a wooden leg, hand to god. But once in a blue moon, it'll happen: how the new neighbor's daughter nearly busted her ass sneaking back home way after her curfew, too buzzed on shitty wine coolers and reeking of weed to realize that she'd fallen on the wrong side of the fence.

Hastily, Robin thrusts a bouquet of flowers into Nancy’s hand. Just before the band starts up, Nancy gives your hand a squeeze and advises, “Sometimes what’s meant for you comes back, Trouble. Don’t let it slip by, okay?”

Steve is just looking to survive the day, he’ll be grateful to get through, honestly.

He was beyond bummed you couldn’t be there for Nance’s wedding and that he’d be sitting with her cousin instead— she’d talked his ear off during the rehearsal dinner last night about her current rewatch of Sex and The City. He’d never been so relieved to be pulled into bridal party duties by Eddie than he was that night.

And, to top it off, you weren’t answering your phone. Logically, he knew you’d be in exams for most of the day but you normally sent him a text or voice note once you woke up or before you made it to class for the day.

He’s pathetic. Eddie forced him to leave his phone in the groom’s suite and now he feels phantom vibrations from something that isn’t even in his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he lines up ready to escort Vickie and mentally preparing himself for a detailed recounting of the havoc that Samantha’s absence has caused the SATC franchise from the Wheeler cousin.

“You know,” A lazy, familiar voice drawls to his right, “If I was a riptide, I wouldn’t take you out.” An arm loops through his, comfortable and intimate.

But no— it couldn’t possibly be…

“Hey, Harrington.” You say, quietly, knocking your hips to his, casually holding a bouquet in your hand, all easy smiles and warm touches. When Steve finally does turn, he blinks a few times to confirm that you're not some hallucination.

Because you’re here, impossibly, you’re home, and everything is finally right in the world.

You reach over to straighten his tie, the alexandrite ring gleaming on your right hand and catching the light.

“How did you—” He stammers, bereft of language.

But then there’s that smirk he adores. “Some of us are stealthy, y’know. Like a ninja.”

“Oh, fuck me right in the mouth.” He laughs loud and bright, a few people turn back in their chairs to look.

You sputter briefly as the precessional begins, hand lighting on his arm with a gentle squeeze. “Uh, that can certainly be arranged, Harrington.”

In that moment he knew, with a certain sense of finality, that he had no choice but to love you; all his love and, if he’s being honest, fear, reflected there in your eyes.

The ceremony is beautiful, of course, and the reception is now in full swing. The new Mr. and Mrs. Byers shared an adorable first dance to “At Last” by Ella Fitzgerald, which nearly had you tearing up before Steve twirled you out onto the dancefloor.

“Hey, good lookin’,” He says with a smile so sweet, it almost makes you weak in the knees.

It’s a slow song, something to get the couples up and out of their seats. Over his shoulder you spy Robin and Vickie making goony eyes at eachother while Eddie and Argyle stumble around both trying to lead the other— idiots.

“Hi, Steve.” You reply, eyes making their way back to him. “Y’know, they say you should never trust a man who can dance.”

“And why’s that, honey?”

You shrug, “Dunno. Apparently they’re all heartbreakers or something.”

Steve, thanks to his mother’s needling and his father’s need to keep up appearances, could dance. He’d escorted many a debutante, including yourself, during Cotillion. You can still hear Savannah’s nasally “Did you know that five out of six debs marry their escorts?”

But, then again, she was also drinking from the fun flask at the ripe age of sixteen. So, do with that what you will.

He spins you easily, like it’s nothing, and before you know it you’re back in his arms. His brow is furrowed in thought, but what he could possibly be thinking you hadn’t a clue. So you continue to follow his lead across the dance floor and silently thank Mrs. Harrington for forcing you and Steve into those dance classes way back when, even if he stepped on your toes and you retaliated with an accidental elbow to his ribs— knock-kneed teens the pair of you.

So much has changed since then.

The music pauses, as someone announces that the bride will toss the bouquet. You go to find the bar, but Steve promises he’ll come back with a drink for you instead and then Eddie is hustling you toward the crowd of “single ladies.”

“Eds, no.” You attempt to swat him away, but he’s having none of it.

“Far as I know, you and Harrington are fuck buddies. No declarations,” His eyes fall to your left hand, “No ring. Beyoncé would insist, sugar.”

You’ve always had a sixth sense about things. When you were younger, your family and friends often thought it was an ability— but in truth, it’s just a mixture of careful perception, logical thinking, and educated guessing.

But not even your sixth sense could explain how you’d ended up catching the bouquet. Especially with a vodka and tonic in one hand and standing at the rear of the gaggle of gals gathered for the event. Didn’t even want to take part, far more interested in finding the coat check room and seeing how long it would take Steve to blow his load once you finally got your mouth on him.

So it’s a surprise, either luck or Nance’s killer aim, when her bouquet lands in your hand, the ribbon wrapped stems falling neatly into your palm just as you turn to shout something at Eddie behind you. Catching Steve’s knowing smirk and hearing Eddie’s piercing wolf-whistle, you give him an exaggerated wink before tossing back your drink.

It’s not long after that, a few more spins around the dance floor, some cake, and more liquor, tasteful toasts from you and Argyle, fond farewells to the newlyweds and bags thrown into cars for a quick getaway, that Steve tosses you— bouquet in hand, over his shoulder and dips out of there. Ignoring Eddie’s teasing of Irish exits and Irish twins, he sets you on your feet again to lean you against the car and kisses you positively stupid.

But it’s not a surprise when Steve finally asks you the question he’s been dying to for nearly the entire summer on the drive home, Nancy’s bouquet resting against the dash as you toe off your heels.

“Hey mind-reader, how long did it take?”

“Hmm?” Pleasantly sleepy from jet lag, your mind struggles to spark a fuse of comprehension. Steve raises a solitary brow in interest.

"Whaddya mean?" You mumble out between stifled yawns.

His hand rests on your leg while he drives, big and warm, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress. Steve, bless him, won't press you on it, but he also wouldn't have asked something so casually for no reason. He's crafty like a fox when he wants to be.

You take a breath and let yourself really think about it. If you’re taking the question seriously, which you damn well should, he deserves an explanation. Hesitantly, you remind Steve of the near fiasco with the wedding dress back at your old place. He nods at your rambling, how guilty and scared you felt at shutting him out.

“So, yeah, between the moving-in playlist and me being bat-shit terrified of you seeing me in a wedding dress,” You summarize, fingers finding their way to his once more. The warm glow of the streetlights cast shafts of light through the windows. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, Steve Harrington," You conclude with a smirk.

His eyes widen in realization, “Oh, so that’s what you were apologizing for before left for Joshua Tree.” An annoyed sigh before a sharp inhale takes its place. “You’re so stupid.”

Back at the loft, fumbling hands in elevators lips spit slick and ruddied, Steve bats away your grabby hands with an exasperated huff as they light upon his chest. Nearly dropping his keys when they find a better way to occupy themselves.

Once inside, he presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collarbones and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs, kicking the door close, and instinctively pulling everything off.

He peels his shirt off and throws it onto the floor while you shimmy out of your dress. His mouth hasn’t left yours for anything other than to breathe.

His hands stop at the curve of your hips. The room is spinning— the entire world moving too fast in a feverish haze. Years of close-quartered friendship and the first intimate touches in months have jumped right into the deep end. You don’t even know when the two of you made way back into his room, but the door clicks shut with a kick from his foot.

“Hey, mind-reader, I got two questions for you,” Steve calls teasingly. “First, how big did you think I was, y'know before? When you accused me of, how did you put it... harboring a fugitive?”

Your brain briefly short-circuits at that, mildly embarrassed. He laughs at your slow, owlish blinks while you formulate a response other than, "Well, I, uh..."

"Okay, okay," He drops a kiss to your brow, soothing your worries away, “Second…”

You gulp. Your legs feel like jelly— all the smart words in the entire world wiped completely from existence. The pause he takes is punishingly long and the grin he gives you nearly makes you faint.

His pants are shucked somewhere near the bedroom door. One of your hands goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

"S'been a while, do you think you can take it?”

“Oh,” A smirk quirks your lips, hand scrabbling for purchase on his tanned skin, “I think you know I can.”

Later, after frenzied forays in tangled sheets and revelling in the afterglow, you place your hand over his chest, selfishly counting his heartbeats.

You breathe, soft and sweet, “Steve,” the sound of your voice a warm balm in the inky dark. “Steve,” You say again and kiss his neck, turning toward you on the rumpled bed he kisses you, as if he could ever get enough.

“I love you.”

He pulls back, just enough so that you wrap your leg around his hips, sheet slipping off as his fingers trail up your thigh. Grazing the tip of his nose ever so lightly against your temple, you feel the rumble of laughter through his chest as it heaves against yours.

Rolls you onto your back, legs falling open to cradle his hips while he holds himself above you, hair falling into his face, “Took you long enough,” he grins, kissing you again. Your cheeks, your jaw, your chin. “I love you too, honey.”

His love is heavy and you delight in the gravity of it as he slips his way back inside, your hands pulling him closer than anyone can ever or will ever get again. It feels fated— the way your body moves and his responds in kind.

Steve only keens your name in reply.

Spun clear out of your body in the haze, pure joy erupts from your mouth, hands scrambling for him, so woozy and giddy you can’t help it.

So this is love, after all.

Finis.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #stranger things fan fiction #modern!steve #teacher!steve #the kids aren't alright - rosewateverandivy #Spotify

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

Falling For the Devil [Part nineteen: "The Time You Almost Told Him"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt accompanies you as your date to a charity event where you're being honored for a journalism award.

Absolutely everything has you nervous–your speech, how handsome Matt looks in a tux, Katy's inappropriate silent commentary, Jessica Manning (a news reporter who always has it out for you), and the fact that Matt apparently notices something off with your body every damn time you almost blurt 'I love you.'

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: Another fluffy installment here with Matt being sweet (and Katy being Katy). You can find the full list of the installments for this series on tumblr here! There's a total of 75 of these bad boys I'm still trying to transfer over from AO3...

"...and I just want to thank the Pelman Foundation for honoring me tonight with this incredible recognition, though I certainly had some help from my sources when it came to outing the corrupt elite in our city," you said, throat feeling uncomfortably dry as you neared the end of your speech. "And honestly, they're as much to thank for that as I am."

You were trying hard not to focus on the many eyes staring up at you as your hands fidgeted nervously, toying with the fabric of your dress. You felt like you were going to throw up right on everyone who was standing just below the stage you were on with the way your stomach had been twisting the moment you'd stepped your shaky, heeled feet onto the stage. Maybe you'd even manage to vomit on the foundation owner standing just your left if you did, and that thought only had you rushing faster through the rest of your speech. Silently you thanked whatever deity above that you'd refrained from a drink before you came up here. That would have made things worse.

"When I chose journalism as my profession, I honestly had no idea how often I'd be chased by guys with guns wanting to kill me," you nervously joked.

A few people laughed, but a multitude made faces at the comment and your instinct to bolt quickly set in. Your eyes darted to Matt, who was smiling in amusement up at you among the sea of people– he was the real reason those guys with guns had been thrown behind bars and had never managed to do more than try to intimidate you these past few months. Really, he deserved this recognition. But he had practically forced you to promise him that you'd in no way make a public statement linking you to his alter ego for your own safety.

"So–so thank you, again," you stammered, eyes darting to the foundation owner now as you stepped away from the microphone, desperate to get off of the stage.

Polite applause erupted in the ballroom and you quickly shook the foundation owner's hand once again, giving him one more nervous 'thank you' before you and your trembling legs hurried across the stage as fast as possible without looking too ridiculous.

Hands shaking just a bit as the adrenaline still surged through your nervous body, smiling politely at those you passed who offered a friendly congratulations, you carefully made your way back towards Matt from across the ballroom. His dark glasses were covering his eyes, but with the wide smile spread entirely across his face, you knew he was focused solely on you despite the room full of people you were slipping your way between as gracefully as you could.

Your heels clicked along the wood floor with each step, the silk of your floor length black dress swishing softly across your legs. You'd picked silk intentionally for tonight, knowing how much Matt had seemed to enjoy it on you at Marci and Foggy's wedding. Since he could only feel what you were wearing, you’d found another way to dress for him–and he’d certainly complimented you on the dress a few times already this evening.

And just like at Marci and Foggy's wedding, Matt looked heartbreakingly handsome in his tuxedo with the bow tie you'd helped him with earlier tonight. The coat fit him just right, his shoulders somehow looking even broader underneath it. Somehow the full ensemble made him look even more intimidating to you tonight. Your heart had been wildly beating in your chest when you'd first seen him open the door to his apartment, entirely in amazement that this man was accompanying you as your date tonight. Before the two of you had left for the event together, you had been almost more nervous to spend the evening with him than you were to give the brief acceptance speech you had just given.

"That was terrifying and I never want to do it again," you told Matt when you finally reached him, wringing your hands anxiously in front of yourself.

"You were perfect," he told you, warmth and calm radiating from him as he reached a hand out, placing it gently on the small of your back. "Just as I said you'd be. I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

"I almost tripped going up those little stairs," you told him, stomach still twisting with nerves.

"No one noticed," he assured you.

Still wringing your hands in front of you, you tried to release a deep breath, but the exhale came out as shaky as your knees. Matt's hand on your back pulled you in towards him and you eagerly accepted the comforting embrace. To anyone else it probably looked like he was congratulating you, but you were grateful for the brief moment to bury your face into his neck and block out the room around you as you inhaled the faint warm, woodsy scent of his cologne while his strong arms held you to him.

Slowly stepping out of his embrace a moment later, you tried to take another calming breath. "I don't know how you do it," you muttered.

His head tilted curiously to the side as he gazed back at you. "Do what?" he asked.

"The whole lawyer thing," you said, waving a hand at him. "Having to memorize your speeches and deliver them in front of so many people. And they're picking apart everything you say. Not to mention the consequences of fucking up are pretty big, too."

He chuckled lightly, his hand gently rubbing along your back. "Somehow you just managed to make me nervous for court on Tuesday," he teased.

"Sorry," you muttered.

"I'm kidding," he answered with a smile. "I do get nervous, actually. I just hide it well. Plus knowing my client is innocent and having the evidence to back it up helps."

"You do everything well," you mumbled. Matt chuckled beside you and you blushed, realizing you said that aloud. "Sorry, I'm really focused on not throwing up right now."

"Yes, I've noticed," Matt said. "You just need to take a few deep breaths, sweetheart. You were great, really."

"I didn't say anything stupid like I did earlier to the senator, did I?" you asked him nervously.

Matt barked out a laugh, the sound carrying as his head fell back along his shoulders. You frowned at his response, noticing a few eyes on the pair of you now.

" Matt ," you chided.

He tried to recover, shaking his head as his laughter died down. "I'm sorry," he said, still smiling, "but you brought it back up. I can't believe you told the senator you thought Daredevil was probably 'a pretty cool dude' in defense of his vigilante endeavors."

A hand flew to your face and you groaned. "He's not being a pretty cool dude right now," you mumbled behind your hand, which only brought on another round of laughter from him beside you.

“Alright, I’ll stop laughing,” he promised, removing his hand from your back and offering you his arm instead. “Would you like to dance?”

Your hand dragged its way down your face and you studied his offered arm for a moment. “Can we…get some alcohol in me first?” you asked. “Now that I don’t need to worry about slurring my way through that speech?”

The smile never fell from Matt’s face, his arm still held out to you. “Seems a terrible way to try not to throw up,” he teased, “but yes, whatever you want. You are the woman of the hour.”

“Please do not say that,” you begged as you slipped your arm through his. “I would much prefer to fade into the background for the rest of the night.”

You began to lead Matt towards the bar at the opposite end of the ballroom, careful to navigate the pair of you between the different small circles of conversing individuals gathered around the areas not filled in with tables. His cane was currently folded up in his right hand, allowing you to do most of the guiding, even if he did have his extra senses that he was pretending not to be using.

“Why do you so often want to go unnoticed?” Matt asked curiously.

Caught off guard by the question, you turned a fraction towards him, your heel slipping along the floor and causing your ankle to twist uncomfortably. You would have fallen straight to the floor if Matt hadn’t instantly tightened his hold on your arm, his other hand that was holding his cane quickly darting out to grab your waist and steady you. Readjusting your foot, you slowly glanced up at Matt beside you as you regained your balance.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

He shot you a charming grin, his hand falling from your waist. “Anytime, Bambi,” he teased lightly.

You snorted inelegantly, noticing a tall, slender blonde nearby turning and shooting you a disgruntled look at the sound. Biting your lip, you threw a hand over your mouth and glanced away, carrying on leading the pair of you towards the bar.

“You never answered my question,” Matt pointed out.

“I just…don’t like the attention,” you answered him. “Not all of us are as charismatic and charming as you, Matt.”

“I think you certainly are,” he disagreed.

You couldn’t resist the laugh that came from you. “Pretty sure someone would be more inclined to describe me as awkward and socially-inept. And I am still waiting for you to realize that.”

“I’d be more inclined to say quirky and adorable,” Matt countered, shooting you another charming grin.

You couldn’t fight the smile that slid onto your face as you reached the bar. The pair of you ordered a drink, waiting for the bartender to make them. As you were about to open your mouth, attention returning to Matt, you felt an arm sling itself over your shoulder and you startled. Glancing to your right you spotted Katy with a drink in hand and a sly smile on her face.

“Congratulations lady,” she said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Katy,” you told her. “I honestly can’t believe they picked me this year.”

“Oh, I can,” she replied. “You’ve been busting your ass chasing some big, dangerous stories all year long. But I meant I’m so proud of you for giving that speech up there. You did great and I’m sure you were fighting to not vomit on the head of the Pelman Foundation that was standing beside you the whole time.”

You rolled your eyes, handing Matt his drink from the bartender before accepting yours. “Yeah, and now I’m planning to drink off the lingering nerves,” you informed her.

Her attention shifted to Matt just in front of you, her smile still widely plastered across her face. “Hey, Matt,” she greeted him. “Been a few weeks since I last saw you. You treating my girl good? Because I’ll kick your ass if I have to,” she threatened him, raising her half-finished wine glass and pointing a finger at him firmly.

Matt only grinned in response. “Threatening a blind man, Katy?” he joked back.

“Yeah, I am,” she said with a shrug. “Equality. Don’t hurt my girl.”

“Katy,” you said, shooting her a look.

Matt’s free hand reached up, adjusting his dark glasses on his face as he smiled back at her, entirely unphased. “You know,” he began, something in his tone causing you to instantly narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, “our girl here said you seem to be under the impression I own a bakery?”

A hand flew to your mouth instantly, covering the laughs dying to break free from you. Your shoulders were shaking lightly as you fought them down. Beside you, Katy’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I just want to clarify that I’m a lawyer,” he continued, that charming fucking grin on his face. “Not really sure I’d know how to bake a cake.” His head turned towards you, the lights overhead glinting off the red of his glasses as he added, “Though I do appreciate a good cake.”

The laughter died in your throat, your eyes on him like a deer in the headlights. Katy beside you bit down on her lip, fighting back laughter at your discomfort and embarrassment now.

“Good to know,” Katy said with a laugh, slapping you hard on the back. “Hope you both enjoy some cake later. I’m going to go find the cute brunette in the blue suit. Keep an eye out for Jessica–she’s exceptionally pompous tonight.”

You huffed, shoulders sagging at the mention of that particular woman, but as you watched Katy take a few steps away, she abruptly came to a stop when she was just a little behind Matt. Spinning back around, her movement catching your attention, Katy waggled her brows at you and your eyes narrowed as you watched her just over Matt’s shoulder. She exaggeratedly gestured a hand towards Matt’s ass before shooting you two thumbs up, managing it even with the wine glass in hand, and then followed that up with a few lewd hand gestures afterwards. Matt’s head tilted curiously, his gaze still on you.

“She’s behind me, isn’t she?” he asked you.

“Yeah,” you answered, shaking your head roughly at Katy.

You watched as she gestured to Matt’s ass again before making the same lewd gestures, this time adding an inappropriate facial expression. Your eyes went wide, mouth dropping.

“She’s making hand gestures, too,” Matt said. “I’m guessing about my ass?”

You swallowed hard, trying to shoo her away with a hand and a pointed glare. She rolled her eyes at you, turning and ignoring the older gentlemen who you were pretty sure was some big CEO shooting her a disturbed look at the scene she’d just been making.

“Yeah,” you answered Matt, attention returning to him. “She wants me to–” you abruptly stopped, shaking your head as Matt’s mouth twisted into a sly grin. Blushing, you quickly said, “Not important. How about we chug these and go dance?”

“Now I’m curious,” Matt whispered.

"And you're going to stay that way," you told him, bringing the glass to your lips and downing it.

With a wince you set the glass back onto the bar counter, Matt slowly raising a brow at you.

"You were serious about chugging the drink?" he asked.

"Or at least moving far, far away from this spot," you said, your eyes catching sight of Jessica making her way right to the bar.

You grabbed Matt's wrist, trying to be mindful of the drink in his hand, and led him away from the bar. He willingly followed along beside you, but as you maneuvered around a group of people loudly discussing some current political drama, you almost ran headlong into Jessica Manning. Internally you felt yourself deflate.

One of her perfectly plucked and penciled dark brows slowly slid up on her forehead, her blue eyes that looked almost as soulless as you knew her to be scanned you from head to toe, taking in your dress. Of course she looked like a living doll in her form-fitting and quite low cut red dress. She said your name–as if it was something that tasted horrible–in way of greeting.

“Jessica, hello,” you greeted flatly.

“It’s cute they’re still giving awards to print journalists,” she sneered. “Surprised The Bulletin is actually being read and not just used as packing material and fire kindling.”

Your grip tightened on Matt’s wrist at her words. Katy was right–she was extra pompous and insufferable tonight.

“Though I suppose you don’t have quite the right look for actually being on the news,” she mused aloud, her eyes once again scanning you over. “Or the presence and refinement necessary.” Her eyes slid over towards Matt, approvingly and openly roving his face and his body with her gaze. “Suppose that’s how you landed this particular date–he can’t quite see what you’re lacking. But let me assure you," she hissed, leaning towards Matt, "you certainly can do better than her .”

Her words stung, striking something inside of you that was already vulnerable and unsure when it came to you and Matt. You fought hard to keep your composure, forcing away the sting of tears. Opening your mouth to form some sort of retaliation or dismissal, you were quickly cut off by Matt beside you.

"It would appear you lack the refinement you claim to have," he replied, tone low and sharp, yet somehow oddly composed. "Only a jealous woman would tear down the success of another and make a tasteless comment about someone's disability in the same breath. So," he continued, "I'm quite certain you've only further cemented the reason I'm here with the beautiful and talented woman beside me and not someone quite as… lacking as yourself."

He pulled you along beside him, your mouth partially agape as Jessica Manning stood seething, a group of onlookers having overheard the brief interaction and whispering to each other as they glanced in her direction.

Quickly you remembered you needed to lead the pair of you and you focused on guiding the both of you towards an emptier corner of the room far away from Jessica. You hadn't expected Matt to stand up for you like that, and as you glanced over beside you, you saw his dark brows pinched together behind his glasses, his cheek twitching just a bit as if he was irritated.

Drawing to a stop, you released Matt’s wrist, your hands once again nervously fidgeting in front of you. That had been embarrassing and humiliating even if you were touched that he'd stood up for you.

"I'm sorry," Matt abruptly said.

Your brows furrowed together at the unexpected apology. "What?" you asked him.

"I'm sorry you've had to watch as women slip me numbers and flirt while you're standing right there," he answered, his voice low. "I'm sorry any of them ever made you feel like you were somehow less than. Or like you're somehow not good enough. It–it pisses me off," he admitted, the irritation still apparent on his face.

"It's not your fault, Matt," you whispered. "You don't control how others react or what they say." You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. "But Jessica is…another thing entirely. She's been like this ever since I started at The Bulletin and I ran into her covering the same story."

"She's jealous," Matt told you. "I read it in her body the moment we ran into her."

You laughed lightly–Jessica Manning, New York City's favorite, darling reporter–was jealous of you? That was even more unbelievable than the fact that you'd received the Pelman Award tonight.

"The only thing I'd believe she was jealous of was you not being on her arm," you told him.

Matt shook his head, his expression finally relaxing. "No, she was reeking of jealousy before she even noticed me, sweetheart," he told you.

You blinked a few times, trying to wrap your mind around that information. It was still too absurd to believe. The motion of Matt raising his glass to his lips and downing his drink caught your attention again. When he'd finished, he roughly set the glass on a table beside him, his eyes never leaving you. He shifted the folded cane in his hand, setting it down on the table as well before holding a hand out to you. Your eyes dropped down to it, feeling your stomach flutter pleasantly.

"Why don't we focus on enjoying our evening instead," Matt suggested, the irritation gone from his voice. "Dance with me? Make up for all the dances I missed out on with you at Fog and Marci’s wedding?"

You swallowed hard, eyes slowly sliding up to the sweet look on his handsome face. Your heart stuttered in your chest–one of these days that 'I love you' was going to just come barreling out of your mouth at him.

But no, not tonight. Despite how sweet he had been handling Jessica and your feelings after, and the fact that he was choosing to focus on you instead of the situation, tonight was not the night. You'd make sure the alcohol didn't loosen your tongue too much just in case. The last thing you needed was to drunkenly admit your feelings.

"I'd love to," you whispered instead, accepting his hand.

You led the pair of you out towards the dance floor where there already were a handful of couples holding each other close and swaying to the live string quartet playing just off to the side. Finding a place a little out of the way, you stopped, turning a little nervously in towards him. He flashed you a curious smile and you couldn't fight back your own nerves at the sight.

"What?" you asked him.

His hands easily slipped onto your hips, gliding their way over the silk of your dress towards your lower back and carefully drawing you in close. Your hands carefully slid underneath his arms, snaking their way to his back.

"You've been nervous around me all night," Matt finally answered as the pair of you began to gently sway to the music. "And you just got really nervous before we stepped out here to dance. More than you usually have been during our relationship so far. Reminds me of back before we were together and you'd find reasons to bolt out of the room whenever we were alone. I've noticed it off and on the last couple of weeks, but you seem even more nervous than the other times. What's going on?"

Of course Matt would notice every time your heart fluttered and your body freaked out whenever you were fighting down the urge to tell him how you felt these past couple of weeks. Your nerves had also increased tonight solely because he looked like he should have some model hanging on his arm instead of you with your awkward bumbling in your heels.

Lightly clearing your throat, you quickly replied the first not ‘I love you’ response that flew out of your mouth. “Nothing. Nothing is going on at all. You’re just, you know, really attractive and sometimes when you focus on me, like you’re doing right now,” you rambled, the words just spilling out of you with no end in sight, “it makes me incredibly fucking nervous. And it doesn’t help that tonight, in that tux, you look really, really good. And you have that goddamn fucking charming smile on your face and it’s making me blurt shit that’s almost worse than having just blurted the actual reason and–”

You stopped, eyes going wide as Matt’s charming smile slid into a triumphant and devious smirk mere inches from your face.

“So there is a reason and I’m not just misreading you,” he whispered.

You tensed in his arms, swallowing hard as your cheeks grew warm. Licking your lips nervously, feeling like your breathing was becoming shallower, you asked, “Can we just, uh, forget I said all of that? Because I…I’m pretty sure I’m going to vomit and faint simultaneously if I have to answer your question for real right now.”

His head shifted, face lowering down towards yours. From this close you could see his eyes behind the lenses of his dark glasses; they were slightly narrowed, curiously scanning around your face and then dropping lower, towards your chest. Head canting a little to the left, the right corner of his mouth curled ever so slightly upwards. A moment later his gaze drew back up around your chin, the smile spreading a little further on his face and his eyes creasing lightly at the corners behind the glasses. You shot him a questioning look in return even though he couldn’t see it.

What was that look about?

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Matt teased gently.

One of his hands left its place along your back and a moment later you felt him gingerly tilting your chin with his fingers until your lips were almost brushing his. Immediately your gaze lowered, focusing on his own lips as a dizziness washed over you. Gradually he leaned in, closing the distance and drawing your lips against his in a soft kiss, one that sent your heart racing in your chest. A moment later you felt his lips tighten, pulling into a smile against yours, his fingers still carefully holding your chin. You swallowed hard, eyeing him curiously as he drew back.

“What?” you asked him cautiously.

He had an unusually large smile drawn wide on his mouth, one that was a prime example of the whole cat-that-ate-the-canary expression, and you were currently feeling like the goddamn canary.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I don’t want you simultaneously throwing up and fainting on the dance floor.” An amused grin slid across his mouth now as he straightened. “You might find that to be a little more embarrassing than talking about how Daredevil is a ‘pretty cool dude’ to a U.S. senator.”

Matt let out a laugh as your forehead dropped to his solid chest, your eyes closing and a groan of embarrassment falling from you. His other hand returned to your back as he held you close, still swaying with you to the music.

“For the record though,” Matt said, leaning closer to whisper into your ear, “Daredevil appreciated the compliment.”

A slow smile spread across your face as it rested against Matt’s chest, your hands clutching the material of his suit from their place along his back. He had been amazing tonight handling your nerves and every other potentially embarrassing thing that had happened, and internally in that moment you let yourself tell him ‘I love you,’ even if you were still too terrified to actually say it aloud to him.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #fftd

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