#oh great i'm dipping my toes here again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1d1195 · 1 year ago

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Sun-Kissed I

Here is a fluffy/smutty little piece of love on the beach. It’s ~9k words. It’s a love at first sight kind of thing I know it’s kind of ridiculous for them to be falling in love so fast but it’s my story and I’m sticking with it. Also, sorry that I’m really into sunflowers right now. Sunflower Vol. 6 has been on my mind lately so that’s gonna make an appearance for the third time as of late. I don’t know if anyone else cares about all my little easter eggs regarding real life Harry in my writing but I’m really pretty proud of the news one I put in here. I'm sorry they're both teachers again I needed them to have summer's off to make this work. Their careers are not a major part of the story.

Warnings: There’s some pretty 18+ things happening here. Masturbating, public sex (kinda), thigh riding, etc. If you’re not into this, I wouldn’t read it. It's all fluff otherwise. There won't be a bit of angst.

I've been trying to write this for over a year and finally came pouring out. Unfortunately, there will be a second part next Thursday only because I thought it was getting too long. So it does end a little abruptly. Hope you enjoy anyway :)

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

Harry didn’t grow up near a beach so he thought this would be great way to cash in on his vacation time over the summer. Sitting at the beach, reading a book, and dipping his toes in the water when it got too hot. His mum knew someone who knew someone who gave him a great deal on the summer rental, and he was beyond excited to sit and relax for the first time in years.

Being an earlier riser had its advantages. For one, he got the pick of where to set up his summer getaway on the beach. He brought a cooler, a chair, and a few towels along with a book or two to spend the day. Through his sunglasses, he faced the direction of the sunshine. He hadn’t had a proper summer holiday since he was young and now that he was busy teaching and had summer’s off, he was elated to have some time to himself.

Once he settled his belongings, he turned on a summer playlist he’d been working on for a while. He didn’t turn it up loud—he would never want to bother anyone that may join him on the beach—but it was loud enough to hear and not interrupt his imagination while reading.

It was utterly peaceful.

Apparently, Harry was unaware of just how truly peaceful the beach could be.

“Hey,” a voice said softly, it was sweet. A gentle shake on the arm, her skin was cool to the touch. His eyes blinked open unsurely. He realized he fell asleep and didn’t even get through the first page of his book. “Hi,” she whispered with a gentle smile. “You’re going to start burning,” she explained handing over a bottle of sunscreen to his hands while Harry tried to wake himself up. “And your book is in the sand,” she said grabbing it before the spine broke from all the grains of the beach ruining the binding.

“Oh,” he shook his head desperate for his brain to catch up to his surroundings. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“No problem!” She chirped heading back to the chair that was a few meters in front of him. “I already burned once this summer and it was miserable. Just don’t want you to suffer the same fate.”

He pushed open the bottle and started rubbing on the sunscreen. It felt like he was going to have a slight burn already. The relief of the lotion on his skin made him wary. “Ah, guess...I should probably leave,” he chuckled. “Try again tomorrow.”

“Oh...if you want to stay, I have an umbrella,” she said cheerfully. “S’a nice day, just give me a minute to set up,” she smiled and gave her name to Harry.

Harry had hardly gotten a good look at her with a sleepy set of eyes a bit wiped by the sun. His brain was foggy with the impromptu nap. This small little town he was staying in had the vibe that someone like her would help a stranger. Everyone had been so nice in the grocery store and when Harry went for his run yesterday, people said hello and commented on how nice the evening was. It was an adorable little town and Harry was already dreading having to leave in two weeks’ time.

“Well, thank you. M’Harry,” he said quietly while he finished rubbing the lotion over his body. He watched her work, his mind less foggy. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was a little over two hours since he arrived. It wasn’t too hot outside still, so his burn would be minor if he got one at all. With the addition of a blanket and the umbrella, it was almost a mirror image of Harry’s little set up. A chair, a cooler, and a couple towels.

She had a ponytail pulled through a baseball cap and she wore a button down, rolled to the elbows. The top few buttons were open revealing a deep blue bathing suit top, that scooped low enough to show off...

Harry had to be careful, or he was going to be sporting a prominent erection on a beach with a ton of families. He moved his gaze down past where he really wanted to look. The shirt came down to just above her knee and he saw a pair of flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket she had laid out in front of her stuff. “Nice day, huh?” She smiled as she twirled the umbrella stand into the sand.

“Tits—it’s really nice,” Harry said quickly stammering through his recovery.

Smooth.

She either didn’t notice his faux pas or didn’t care because she continued about her business. “Have you been here long?” She asked.

“Just arrived yesterday. Did some grocery shopping. Went for a jog.”

“Oh, how nice,” she had this infectious smile. Harry felt so happy just being around her. Or maybe it was the beautiful weather and the prettiest beach he had seen in years.

Or maybe it was her curvy figure that was making him lightheaded with happiness.

She pulled the shirt off finally, and Harry thought he might seriously need to leave. Head back for his little beach cottage to take care of blood rushing to his groin. She’s gorgeous. He thought to himself. “How ‘bout you?” He cleared his throat.

“I grew up here...and live here in the summer.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Here?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded. “It’s my favorite place on earth,” she explained.

“I can see why,” he nodded in appreciation. “Do you have any suggestions for while m’here?”

She nodded. “Plenty—how long are you here for?”

“Two weeks.”

“How lovely...let’s see...you’re at the beach—that’s most important in my opinion. I think if you stay here most of the time, you’ll have a successful vacation. There’s a place about twenty minutes from here where you can go clam digging if you like clams—I don’t really like them, but it’s fun to go. Paddleboarding on the river is also a really big thing. There’s this restaurant that everyone talks about. If you want, I know someone who works there, I could get you in. You’ll need a sweatshirt from the most touristy of tourist shops, but don’t go on a rainy day—everyone will be there. You’ll have to see the sunrise and the sunset. I think there’s a full moon too, so you’ll definitely want to see that over the ocean. I personally recommend ice cream and mini golf too. If you have time, you should also check out the nearby island. Even though this place is beautiful the island is like being in another country. It’s stunningly beautiful,” throughout her speech she continued working on the umbrella stand, putting the actual umbrella into place and tilting it back to create more shade.

Harry thought it would be really forward of him to invite her on all those adventures. Especially when someone as beautiful as she was surely had a significant other. Add in the fact he met her less than ten minutes ago; he would have seemed insane. “Wow, sounds like a packed schedule.”

She laughed and Harry swore he had never heard a sound as beautiful. She was still organizing her items and she gestured under the umbrella for Harry to move his stuff. “I’m really passionate about this place I forget people want to relax.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “You’re right t’be passionate. M’sure you’re right; I’ll make every effort t’do it all,” he promised and began moving his stuff below her umbrella. “Everyone is so nice here,” he told her. “Yourself included.”

“Why thank you,” she smiled sweetly and settled into her beach chair finally, facing the sun. He swore that someone this stunning couldn’t be real. She looked like a beach goddess—sun-kissed hair and skin. “What are you reading?” She asked, turning her head toward him covering the side of her face to keep the sun out of her eyes even though she wore sunglasses too.

He couldn’t even remember why he picked the book up. “Er...I fell asleep before finishing the first page,” he admitted shyly. She giggled.

“The beach does that, I swear. Something about total relaxation and the warm sun. I’m like a cat. Once I lay on my stomach, I’m out like a light.”

“Do you read?”

She nodded. “Have to; I’m a middle school teacher.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled. “I teach secondary.”

“No way!”

So, for the whole morning, Harry forgot about his book. Forgot about his playlist that was still going—except for anytime she asked what song was playing. They talked for literally three hours straight never once a lull in the conversation. Work, books, the beach, music, and anything they thought of. He told her about his family coming to visit for the weekend and she told him about her family who didn’t love this place as much as she did who would probably not visit—even if they missed her and loved her with everything in them.

At lunch they finally quieted their conversation to eat and watch the water. “I don’t see a burn,” she told him glancing over his face and skin as she finished her sandwich. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I’d be a proper crisp by now.”

She held the sunscreen out to him again. “I know this is a little weird, would you mind getting my upper back?” She asked.

Touch her? Harry didn’t have to be asked twice. Harry made sure to spray every bit of her skin. He didn’t want to be the reason she burned. As soft and beautiful as her skin was, Harry was glad she only asked to rub her back and shoulders. If he had to do her legs or any other part of her body, he definitely would have passed out.

She spread herself out on her blanket. Book near her face. “I’m so going to fall asleep,” she yawned. “Will you wake me if I start to burn?” She asked.

Harry nodded wordlessly and brought his book up toward his face. “Sure, love,” he murmured. Hopefully not showing how smitten he was with her already.

Harry might have wormed his way into her heart as her favorite person ever. It was so unlike her to wake a total stranger from a nap. But he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t imagine letting him roast in the sun all morning and ruining his vacation. It was even more unlike her to invite him to sit with her.

She liked to believe she was a kind soul—most everyone told her that she was, so it wasn’t unnatural for her to invite him to hang out with her. But if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry was a teacher, it could have been a lot more dicey.

It was so easy to talk to Harry. The entire morning was so much better than she ever expected just by being in his presence or chatting with him. Other than her reading-nap—where Harry woke her up after an hour so she could reapply another layer of sunscreen—they talked literally the whole day. Harry didn’t mind putting sunscreen on her and she returned the favor when they switched positions so Harry could get some on his back.

Touching him might be her new favorite pastime.

She left a bit before Harry wanting to go for a walk and shower before eating dinner and reading a bit on her porch. Plus, she had to pace herself if she was going to last at the beach all summer. After her shower, she put on an oversized shirt like she wore to the beach and a pair of shorts. It looked like she wasn’t wearing pants but didn’t mind. The sun finally crested the top of her cottage, so she was no longer baking in the sun and made the porch the loveliest little place to read and enjoy the evening. She had a bowl of watermelon chunks beside her, and sunglasses perched on her nose.

Growing up she never loved summer all that much. Of course, she loved the beach and the time off from school, but she started working part time when she was fourteen and summer never had the same feeling as it did when she was young until she started teaching. Now she would tutor virtually some nights throughout the summer—especially for college students taking summer courses. But mostly she spent her time here in the little beach cottage her grandma had specifically named to her in her will after she saw how much she cared for it—especially since she was the only one in her family who had summers off and still cared about this little town. Once her grandma passed away, no one really felt the need to stay—her parents sold the home she grew up in. It wasn’t brokenly tragic that her grandma died—she was old, and these things happened. Besides, she felt by being in the little town she grew up in and living in the cottage left to her was enough to live her summers in honor of her grandmother.

Her mother technically owned the other cottage her grandmother had and while her mom really wanted to sell it, she insisted she would take care of it while she was here and tend to any renters.

Which is why her mother texted her at least once a week about the renter at the cottage just three houses down the road. Our renter said there’s only one towel. Any ideas?

She gasped wondering how it slipped her mind to take the towels out of the dryer and fold them neatly into the bathroom linen closet. On it. She responded and practically ran down the road. She knocked on the door to her second home away from home and waited for the person on the other side to answer. While waiting she noticed the little sign below the main window was crooked—fell off the hook again in the ocean wind. She needed to remember to bring a pair of pliers back to close the loop the next time she came over.

The two cottages were almost identical. Except this door was a sea blue and hers was a sea green. They were little wooden cottages, shingled top to bottom. Just two windows at the front of the house, two on the back, and one on each side. There were two skylights in the roof allowing for lots of natural light. Each home had two small bedrooms, a bathroom, a spacious sitting area and full kitchen. They were wall to wall hardwood floors even though her Grandma in the 70s tried very hard to convince everyone it needed carpeting. But try vacuuming sand out of a beach cottage all the time. Due to space behind the home, hers had a little patio but this one was fitted with a little patio and an outdoor shower.

The blue door opened while she was still putting the wood block that read Sea View back in it’s place. “Uh...hello?” He asked. She turned to find Harry, surprise all across his face, to see the girl he met earlier outside his rental.

Of course it was Harry. “Oh, how funny!” She chirped excited to see the gorgeous man from the beach once more—her plan right now was to not-so-casually run into him at the beach again the next day. “I should have asked where you were renting!”

He smirked. “Hi love,” he said sweetly, confused that she was here. “Uh...what are you doing here?”

“My family owns this cottage,” she explained. “Mom texted me that you don’t have towels? That’s my fault. Left them in the dryer when I was cleaning on turnover day. I’ll fold them now,” she said and marched herself inside and maneuvered through the familiar room with ease.

“Oh,” Harry said. “S’okay, love. I didn’t mean t’bother you—I would have found them eventually—”

“Absolutely not, it’s your vacation! You deserve clean towels and not have to worry about looking for things,” she was already piling the fluffy array of sea blue and green towels out of the dryer and began folding them expertly. “I’m going to leave you my number so if you need anything you can just ask me. I always tell her to just give them my number, but she worries about weirdos taking advantage of me,” she rolled her eyes.

What would possess me to say that to Harry?

He smiled as he watched her flurry of activity. Her rambling little monologue. She was definitely scaring him. It occurred to her at that moment she didn’t even wait to be invited into his space. Just strode right in. “Glad m’not a weirdo. I agree with y’mum. Think I would like her,” he nodded firmly.

She felt her face warm, and she hoped the tan hid the blush as much as possible. Harry’s nose and cheeks looked a bit red—like he caught a bit of a cold. The rest of his body was covered by a simple pair of jogging shorts and a simple t-shirt so she couldn’t see if he burned and also didn’t want to be caught staring at him—especially thinking about the abs he had on display under the litany of tattoos she saw earlier at the beach. “Well, I will fold these and get out of your hair,” she said focusing on the towels. But her brain glitched out once more. “Oh, do you like surfing?” She asked.

He chuckled leaning against the frame of the door leading to this utility room. “Only been once with a group of m’friends. S’not m’cup of tea. M’not very good.”

“Oh, okay. I just want to make sure I recommend everything you might like.”

He was smirking at her like she was a bit crazy—and she was—but Harry wasn’t helping. Without sunglasses she saw he had green eyes. Green. She was done before this even started. Once all the towels were folded, she made herself at home once more, hurrying to the bathroom to put all the towels in place. The bathroom smelled like men’s cologne: sandalwood and sage. Jesus Christ it’s like he was built in a lab for me.

Harry followed her as she put the towels away in an alternating pattern. “Thank you,” he said. “Y’really didn’t need t’do all that.”

“You’re the guest. You paid to get this kind of service,” she reminded him. “I’m also...only three houses down if you need something as well. It’s got a sign like yours below the window Sun-Kissed Cabana. My grandma named them.”

He nodded and stared at her for a few moments. She had only known Harry for all of five hours, but she could swear she knew his thoughts. He probably did think she was a bit crazy. “Do...do y’have plans for dinner?”

She felt her heart flutter. She was going to order her favorite pesto pasta dish from a local place that practically recognized her voice when she called. “Uh...no.”

“Would y’like t’go out with me in ‘bout an hour?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

She was finishing up her makeup when her phone vibrated with a second message from Harry. The first one was to alert her who was messaging Hiii, it’s Harry Xx. Followed by: Does this place have a fancy dress code?

No, no. Nothing fancy at all! They’ve def got a beach bar vibe.

Cool :) I’m ready when you are.

Shit. She wanted to curl her hair a bit and look extra nice but maybe that would have looked like she was trying too hard after she just got through telling him it wasn’t a fancy place. She had on a maxi dress. Black top nothing revealing and then the skirt pattern had sunflowers all over it. She would have to forgo the curls and instead pushed the front of her hair back with a headband. Just need like five more minutes.

I’m in no rush, love. Please take your time Xx.

She thought she was going to melt. Fortunately, her tanned skin hid most of the imperfections of her face. She also preferred maxi dresses because it hid the thickness of her thighs and more imperfections like bumps from shaving and bruises from whacking herself on her beach chair. She thought the style she chose also perfectly accentuated the curve of her waist. While it didn’t show off her cleavage—it was her personal belief her boobs were one of her better assets—she thought after a day at the beach with them on full display due to her bathing suit, dinner might be a little gentler without them in Harry’s face the whole time.

With a spritz of her perfume and gathering all her necessary belongings into her purse, slid on her favorite pair of sandals with gold brushed embellishments, and headed outside. There wasn’t really a discussion of how they would get there, but she decided to walk down the road back to Sea View. Harry was crouched by the sign, pliers in hand closing the very loop she said she would. “Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said hurriedly feeling like a terrible hostess.

He turned and smiled at her. “No worries, love. S’easy. Jus’ found some pliers in the utility closet.”

“Well, thank you,” she murmured gratefully. Harry stood, putting the pliers just inside the doorway before locking it with the passcode. He turned to her.

“Is this place walking distance, or should I drive us?” He asked. His hair was fluffed in these beautiful chocolate waves that of course reminded her of the beach but made her want to bury her hands in it and kiss his perfect face until she was out of breath.

“Uh,” she didn’t think she wanted to walk in a dress, but maybe that was the experience of this vacation for him. Harry looked utterly comfortable but perfect (naturally) in a pair of navy-blue khaki shorts and grey short sleeve button down. The lack of sleeves showed off those tattoos that she was continuously falling for. On his feet he wore a pair of light grey sneakers. “We can walk, but it might take me a while in a dress and sandals.”

“Oh shit, of course. What m’I saying? Y’can’t walk in a pretty dress like that,” he said hurrying to the car and opening the passenger side. “After you, love. Jus’ need t’tell me the directions,” he smiled at her.

All the books she had brought to her summer vacation had a romantic flare to them. Her only thought was there should be a book written about this very day—meeting Harry at the beach and going on a date with him. It was impractical and a bit flighty of her to be so taken with him already.

But there was no way she could help it when he got in the driver’s seat, smiled at her with those dreamy dimples and his eyes twinkled at her behind those pretty lashes of his. “Y’look gorgeous, love.”

It was effortless how much he enjoyed her company. The idea that it was only his first full day and he had already had a good beach day and another good jog under his belt. The post-beach-and-jog shower was cold-watered but steamy as he thought of the pretty girl in her pretty bathing suit. He imagined her smile, the gentle curve of her lips as he wrapped his hand around his cock as the water cooled off his sweaty and warm skin for several minutes until he was finally relieved of seeing her...assets at the beach.

Seeing her immediately after he inquired about the lack of towels as soon as he had shorts on was like a dream. Her agreeing to dinner with a beautiful girl was not what he expected when he booked this trip six months ago. Only one day in and this was the best vacation he had ever been on.

They arrived at the restaurant and after searching through the menu in silence, they placed drinks and an appetizer to share.

Did he mention how effortless this all was? The conversation was once more not a moment of dullness. She was funny, beautiful, kind, and it seemed that everyone at the restaurant knew her at least a little bit. “Our sun-kissed angel is here!” A man shouted from across the patio where they were seated. Everyone turned to follow the gaze of the man and Harry smirked instead of being jealous because he was right. She was an angel. A tanned, lovely, gorgeous angel.

She rolled her eyes. “Harry, this is my friend Louis. I used to work here in the summer.”

“Before she went off an got a real job, like a traitor.”

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

“Okay, well...we can’t not get ice cream,” she said knowingly.

“You just told the waiter you were too full for dessert,” he chuckled at her.

“You don’t get dessert at a restaurant when there are literally seven different ice cream shops within spitting distance,” she rolled her eyes. “Summer is for ice cream. If we hurry, we can see a sunset too.”

“Y’sure know how t’get the most out of a summer day.”

She frowned. “Oh...I’m sorry. I forget that you only have two weeks. We don’t have to. We can head back,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, not at all, love. S’a great idea,” he reached out across the console and rested his hand on her thigh near her knee. With the long dress covering her legs, it wasn’t terribly inappropriate, but it was so instinctive to reach out and touch her he felt he made a mistake when she was suddenly speechless. Unable to tell Harry where to go to get her precious ice cream. “Er...sorry,” he said pulling his hand back to rest on the gearshift between them. “Should have asked,” he felt his face warm in embarrassment.

“N-no, it’s okay,” she nodded quickly. Her voice was breathy as she stammered. “I was...” She shook her head. “You can touch me—I mean,” she put a hand over her face in embarrassment at the encouragement she just gave him. Harry decided to quickly put her out of her misery—he did say tits after looking at her for thirty seconds this morning, even if she didn’t hear it. He gave her leg a gentle squeeze as he moved his hand back to where it was. She was silent again once more and she rested one hand over his. Letting a few of her fingers fill the space between his but not twining them fully together. “Is this okay?” She asked softly.

Harry melted over her sweetness. “Perfect.”

They ate their ice cream on the beach sitting on the tall, white lifeguard stand since it was late. There was a smattering of running kids, a few dogs, and families littered closer to the water on the tidal flats. But no one was over where they were. Up on the soft sand encroaching on the dunes. They chatted in between licks and bites of ice cream and Harry was certain he was falling deeper and deeper in love with her by the millisecond. It was ridiculous. Love at first sight couldn’t possibly be real. He had three or four serious girlfriends (four if you counted his junior high love affair, three if you didn’t) all of whom he did fall in love with but over the course of weeks and months. Not minutes and hours. Maybe it was the salt air playing with his brain chemistry.

Certainly, it had something to do with the beautiful girl sitting so close to him he could feel her sun-kissed skin warming him from the gentle breeze floating off the water as the sun started its descent over the horizon. She took her phone from her purse and snapped a picture quickly. Hardly looked at it, barely centered it, yet it was the most beautiful sunset picture he’d ever seen.

“Are y’a photographer in y’free time?” He asked.

She snorted. “No, I do like taking pictures. But I have hundreds of these,” she said showing him the photo album of various sunset pictures she had taken over the years. Harry could see why she was so good at them. No two pictures looked alike which had to be a poem somewhere out there. Harry always considered himself a winter—growing up in cold England would do that to a person—and no two snowflakes were alike. Snowflakes had nothing on her sunsets.

“D’you want t’take a picture together?” He asked quietly.

She smirked. “Do I have chocolate on my face?” She wrinkled her nose at him.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “No,” he promised. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her snuggly against him. “S’this okay?” he asked almost directly into her ear. She nodded and smiled as she flipped her camera around to selfie mode. Harry had one arm around her waist, the other holding his ice cream cone. She reached her arm out to take the picture while she held her cup of ice cream in her lap with the other. Gazing at her screen, Harry couldn’t believe how effortless it felt to touch her. It was so easy to talk to her. And they looked like the perfect beach couple. “Can y’send that to me?” He murmured in her ear once more. She nodded mutely. Harry didn’t remove his arm from around her waist and he continued eating his ice cream.

Once finished with their treat, they continued chatting and watching the sunset listening to the laughter of families on the beach. The sky was so pretty Harry thought that she was right. This was the best place on earth.

They walked back to their cottages hand in hand, Harry stopping outside the door for the place labeled Sun-Kissed Cabana. “S’that why Louis calls you a sun-kissed angel?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s something else.”

Harry chuckled. Leaned forward and swept his lips on the apple of her cheek. “I had the perfect first day with you, love,” he said softly. “Sleep well,” he hummed and turned to walk three houses down. She pressed a hand on her cheek like a lovesick idiot. She nearly forgot the code to get into her own house and felt like floating all the way to her room where she giggled and kicked across her bed as she smiled into her pillow.

The next three days were spent almost the same as the first. The beach: complete with reading, naps, and lots of talking to the pretty girl he liked so much already. Followed by a run, a shower, and then dinner. Harry tried really hard not to touch her without asking. The only allowance he gave himself to touch her without asking was when he truly felt like her back was getting a little singed. On the second day she made the grilled chicken salad she told Harry she was going to make before he invited her to dinner, but once he informed her he was a pescetarian she hurried to the store to get him some fish to grill instead. It was totally unnecessary, and Harry felt guilty she spent money on him like that for dinner (even though he was insistent he pay for dinner and ice cream the first night). Regardless, it was a delicious salad paired with zucchini noodles that truly tasted just like pasta. Harry made her write the recipe down for him.

“I can’t run at all,” she wrinkled her nose when Harry offered to join her on her evening walk the following day.

“I’d rather walk with y’then, love,” he said softly with a smile. “If y’want company, that is.”

She wanted to say she wanted Harry’s company. But thought that was a bit too much. But they walked side by side, Harry gently ushering her to the inside of the road without making any fuss about it. They continued their comfortable chattering. Talking of anything and everything. That night they ordered pizza that was delivered to Sea View and watched a movie in his living room, her feet in his lap where he rubbed the soles of her aching feet without prompting or full acknowledgement.

By the end of the third day, she thought Harry might be her best friend. He made crispy cauliflower tacos. He spent the evening simply reading on her back porch with her in comfortable, perfect silence.

The fourth day, they were sitting on her back porch again, sipping bubbly wine spritzers that she put in glasses of ice and combined with a popsicle to match the flavors. Harry thought it was sinful the way she licked the pop. Harry wanted to jump her bones so very badly.

“How do you like the outdoor shower?” She asked looking up at the sky full of stars. There was a citronella candle between them to keep the bugs away and she had a solar set of lights strung about her little patio. She was in a soft warm glow from the lights. Once more, looking sun kissed. She was wearing a shorter dress than the other day, shorts beneath it. She informed him about the shorts because she said it was an athletic-type dress and she may have sat weird and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Harry thought there wasn’t anything she could do to make him uncomfortable.

“I haven’t used it, actually. M’not sure I—”

She made an almost inhuman noise, a cross between a growl and gasp. It was quite adorable even if she seemed miffed and Harry wished he could have recorded the sound because he thought he would listen to it on loop for the rest of forever. “Harry!” She almost shouted. “The sole reason I took Sun-Kissed Cabana over Sea View was because I knew the outdoor shower would be a huge selling point for renters. You haven’t used it?” She looked nearly betrayed.

He chuckled, sipping his drink. “M’sorry, love. I didn’t realize—”

“Harry, I’m not kidding. You have to go use it. Like right now.”

He laughed loudly. If there could possibly be a downside of this little beach-cottage neighborhood, it would be that the houses were quite close, and Harry’s loud laughter could probably be heard back at his own place. But she was staring at him seriously. He thought she really expected him to get up and leave at this moment so he could get this experience.

“Y’serious?” He asked smirking at her.

“I don’t joke about the outdoor shower,” she promised him.

Finishing his popsicle and taking the last sips of his drink he stood from her little patio table and shook his head with a chuckle at her. “I guess m’going.”

He wanted to invite her. Especially if she didn’t have one here at Cabana. It sounded like she would like it more. “You better,” she continued licking the pop and Harry was grateful he would at least have a new image to think about in the outdoor shower when he imagined his hand around his dick was her mouth instead.

The air was cool but somehow warm. Sort of like the water on his skin. He could see the draw and actually surprised himself that he hadn’t used the shower yet. He imagined in the morning it would be heaven—most of his showers had been in the afternoon or evening since he was running at that time. But maybe he could take two showers a day—who cared? He was on vacation.

Was it heavenly? Her message read.

Harry thought about how much how active his imagination got picturing her in that shower with him, his hand fisting over himself until he imagined her pretty cleavage covered in him instead of flowing with the water down the drain. Extremely. But of course, he left out why it was so heavenly. You should write a book of recommendations for your guests.

:) You can come back over if you want. I know I kind of kicked you out, but like I said. I’m very serious about outdoor showers.

Chuckling to himself, he hurried to get dressed again and meet her back there.

She knew Harry’s family was coming today so she told him that she would give him all kinds of space but if he needed anything, he was not to hesitate to ask her. “M’mum and sister would love t’meet you, kitten,” he promised. He didn’t mean to call her kitten. But it rolled off the tongue so effortlessly and she was the one who said she felt like a cat in the sun. But he didn’t spend long thinking about it and continued his little speech. “Y’don’t have t’evade us.”

“I’m sure you want family time,” she promised. “Really, it’s fine. Plus, we’ll have a whole other week to do our little routine,” she felt her face warm as she spoke realizing she just told Harry she wanted to spend the remainder of his vacation together. She opened her mouth to backtrack almost instantly, but Harry beat her to the punch before she could speak again.

Given that Harry was this close to telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, another full week spent together seemed like a great idea. “I can’t wait,” he promised.

They decided to do a sunrise that morning. She brought a blanket and was wrapped up in a long sleeve shirt along with a pair of sweatpants. She advised Harry to do the same. “The air is still cool from the night when you get to the beach early,” she explained the night before they parted to go to bed.

They were laying on the blanket angled by the natural slope of the dunes so they could see the view of the sun cresting on the ocean horizon. “Do y’have as many sunrise pictures?” He asked tiredly. With the sun rising at just after five-thirty she was courteous and kind in asking that they get there at five so they could see the dawn and array of beautiful colors painting the sky before the sun got there.

She giggled. “No way. Too early to see it that many times. I do like sunrises more, though,” she said. “It’s so much quieter. It’s not as hot. I don’t know. I think sunrises are just so beautiful.”

He immediately, silently agreed with her that they were. No matter how much he was enjoying sunsets with her. He would wake up at 4:45 every day if it meant watching something she found beautiful, and it made her happy. Harry had her pulled to his side again, his arm looped beneath the back of her neck. His eyes were closed as he fiddled with a strand of her hair running his fingers through the soft tendrils. “Harry,” she whispered after a few minutes. Harry felt the edges of sleep and the dreamworld starting to meld together on his brain. “You’re gonna miss it,” her voice was so gentle. Perfect for morning. She was the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on but he couldn't bring himself to open them right now.

“Hmm,” he hummed. Refusing to open his eyes. “S’okay. We can see it another day,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “Harry,” she whispered so gently. It felt like magic. Warmth spread through his whole body. “We woke up so early,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “M’sorry,” he sighed. “It’s so peaceful,” he muttered. “You’re warm,” he turned his face to bury his nose in her hair and he nuzzled closer to her. Harry being a cuddler didn’t surprise her. He was quite touchy. But this sent her heart into a frenzy, and she forgot why they were there.

“Harry,” she whispered again feeling brave. Maybe because it was too early, and her brain wasn’t functioning.

“Jus’ lemme sleep, kitten. Please?” He muttered into her hair. “Wake me in twenty-nine minutes.”

She swallowed. “But...I want to kiss you,” she sounded so shy.

Harry’s eyes sprung open, and he pulled back from her quickly to look at her beautiful, perfect face. “M’awake,” he promised and gently cupped her cheeks, his fingers slipping through her hair, and he brought her face closer to his. Kissing her like he had been dreaming about over the last five days was the only thing on his mind.

She moaned against his mouth and Harry was really looking forward to that outdoor shower now. She pressed against him, keening as she licked into his mouth, sucking on his lower lip. Driving him absolutely mad as she nipped at his lip gently with her teeth. She could feel herself squeezing her thighs together for relief because she was finally kissing Harry the way she wished she did at sunset on his first night here.

Harry’s hands were cool against her flushed cheeks. “Kitten,” he hummed against her mouth, pecking at her like he would die without her kisses. “Y’taste so good,” he sighed dreamily.

She rolled to her side to face him squarely while he returned to his side too, instead of hovering over her. He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her against him. Over the past four days at the beach, she had tried really hard not to stare at whatever was going on in Harry’s swimsuit, so she didn’t look like a sex-maniac. But there was no way she could ignore the hard dick she felt against her thigh as she pressed against the full length of his body. She imagined Harry fucking her so hard in that outdoor shower that the neighbors would have no way of ignoring what was happening. She moaned at the idea once more against his lips, thighs pressing together.

“Oh no,” he hummed. If she wasn’t already so drunk in love with Harry after one date and four days together, she might have thought his voice sounded a bit mocking. Slowly, he rolled onto his back holding onto her and perching her body on top of him as he did. One of his legs separated her thighs apart. “Do y’need something from me, love?” He cooed almost lovingly at the idea she was aching between her legs. He kept her pulled down toward him so he could continue kissing her, effectively melting all coherent thought.

Holy shit, his voice. Oh my God.

Without meaning to, she clenched her legs once more, this time, wrapped around Harry’s thigh causing friction, despite two layers of sweatpants and her underwear (at least those were thin). “N-no,” she almost whimpered trying to get away from his leg. Harry put his hands on her hips and gently pressed her back down toward him while bending his knee a bit. His thigh came closer in contact with her so if she wanted to, she could rub right against him.

“Y’sure, love? You look like y’might need something,” his voice was so sultry. It was too early for this. His eyes were somehow a deeper green. His lips were too pink after kissing her.

“N-no,” she shook her head despite wanting nothing more than to grind her pelvis against his thigh. She knew what it looked like beneath the sweatpants. She knew the tattoos that dotted his skin. Fuck, she wanted to get herself off so bad. But she was acutely aware of her position and tried to lift herself off his leg. “I-I think m’too heavy,” she stammered again.

He groaned and pulled her tighter against his leg. “No way, angel,” he promised. “Go ahead, know y’want to. I want y’to,” his voice was a bit husky. Like he was a bit confused. She groaned softly. God she wanted to. “That’s it,” he encouraged as she ground herself against him.

She felt flush, wishing she wasn’t wearing sweatpants. They were getting in the way. The long sleeve shirt was making her warmer. Or maybe it was Harry that was making her warm. Harry helped shift her hips back and forth against his leg as she moaned and whimpered as she rutted against his thigh. “Y’look so pretty, kitten,” he cooed. “Getting off on m’thigh like that. S’making me so hard, love. Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re s’pretty.”

She continued creating friction on between the two of them worried she would give herself a burn from all the fabric rubbing together but she was so fucking wet she was certain she would slide easily against him if she could take her pants off in public. The sun was still rising, not quite up over the horizon yet, but the sky was brighter, creating a gorgeous image of her beautiful body silhouetted from the light. “S’good, so good, baby,” he groaned. She whined and continued rutting herself against him.

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Yeah, love? Y’gonna come for me? Gonna come from jus’ m’thigh?”

Jesus Christ, she felt like she was a virgin. She was almost certain she was. Had she ever even had an orgasm before Harry? When was the last time she had sex? When was the last time she masturbated? Holy shit. This was bad. He was all consuming and he was fully clothed, and it was just his thigh.

She nodded at his words. Even though she felt a bit silly and stupid for doing this, with two layers of sweatpants between them. “Yeah? Good, want y’to. Y’look so pretty all—”

“Fucking hell,” she whimpered and dropped her face to his chest as she twitched against him. Harry flexed his muscle, gripping her hips and rubbing her against him so he could help her ride out the waves of her orgasm for a few moments. After that, Harry dropped his knee once more, letting her flatten against him. He kissed her forehead as she breathed heavily against him, shaky and sighing as she let the euphoria course through her. He rubbed up and down her back as she did, and he breathed deeply into her hair. She smelled like sunscreen and coconut.

“I really like sunrises,” he murmured. She smirked. Her face against his chest. “Y’sleepy, now, kitten?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” her voice was a bit quiet. Almost unsure. “Sorry,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his shirt.

He shook his head, kissing the top of her hair once more. “Don’t be sorry. Been thinking ‘bout y’coming all over me since I met you.”

She giggled. “Yeah?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t very...flattering on his part. It also made it sound like he only liked her for the idea of sex. Which wasn’t the case. He liked her so much simply because she was the sweetest, nicest person he had had the pleasure of meeting for a really long time.

She rolled off him. He kind of hated it because even though it wasn’t freezing cold, it felt like it now that she wasn’t laying on his body. She looked at the outline of the bulge stretching against his gray sweatpants. It was still ten minutes until the sun would be touching the horizon. “Fair’s fair, yeah?” She wondered, looking up at him and then back down at the somehow growing outline. She would be lucky if he fit in her mouth.

“Angel, y’don’t have to jus’ because—”

She frowned. “Do...you not want me to?” She wondered, confused and worried that he was rejecting her. She didn’t know why if he had just used her thigh to get him off.

“No, no,” he said quickly wanting to ease the worry he saw fill her beautiful face. God he would rather die than reject her. “I mean...y’can do whatever y’want to m’body,” he nodded eagerly. “Jus’ don’t want you t’think you have to. Been thinking ‘bout—” his voice choked off as she outlined the bulge. “Oh...s’nice,” he moaned forgetting everything he was saying about what she could do to him. Her fingertip simply ran along absent-minded paths along his length. He struggled to remember the last time he had sex because he could only imagine the episode in the outdoor shower as the last time he orgasmed.

She giggled. “Nice?” She questioned; Harry was so polite. The way he walked with her on the inside of the road, the way he held her door open no matter if they were going in the house or the car, or if he simply carried her heavy cooler off the beach even though he was carrying his own belongings. For him to say it was nice the way she was touching his dick was simply...something else.

He nodded breathlessly. “Yeah,” he was already too far gone with just her goddamn finger touching him. He couldn’t have made any comment further if he wanted to. He moaned as she squeezed gently along the length of him. Five minutes till sunrise and the beach would be covered in light. She glanced around quickly, seeing they were still alone. She had never done this in the five years she had been staying the summer back in town keeping an eye on Sea View while living in Sun-Kissed Cabana.

“Do you think I could make you come in five minutes?” She whispered.

He groaned almost animalistically. “Love, I think y’could make me come in forty-five seconds,” he promised. And with that, she dipped her head toward his waist just until the sun was ready to cross over the horizon.

It was quite difficult not to text Harry all day long while his family visited. It was entirely due to having an orgasm at his hand (thigh); the creeping need to bond to the person who just made her entire world flip upside down was a prominent feeling throughout her body the whole day. The words of her book didn’t make any sense, so she opted for cleaning her bathroom. But that proved to be difficult too, and she spilled most of the mop water back onto the floor. After another fit of cleaning that up, she decided to spend her time at the grocery store since she was getting dangerously low on her much-needed items. She nearly forgot to go to the checkout line. After putting everything away she thought about just going to bed at three in the afternoon just to rid her mind of how crazy she was being and how awkwardly she missed her summer guy.

Fortunately, Harry broke first, before she fell asleep.

I know it’s silly, but I miss you terribly.

She felt so much relief reading his message. Oh, thank God. Me too.

You really should just come over. Mum and Gemma want to meet you. I won’t shut up about you. It’s...a bit pathetic how obsessed I sound actually. Mum’s in the outdoor shower while Gemma is taking pictures of the beach. We’re going to have dinner in a bit—you should join us. He put this shy little emoji after his message.

She was currently dressed in a pair of bike shorts and t-shirt that fell past her hips, barely a strip of the shorts showed. She had her hair pulled back by a claw clip. She wanted to go over there immediately. However, her outfit and hair did not look ready to meet Harry’s family. Plus, she was worried she would do something stupid like sit in Harry’s lap in front of his mother and sister and then she would have to jump out a window to hide her infatuation.

I would love to, but really...I’m sure they want to see you.

They want to ‘meet the girl that’s got me all flustered’ that I nearly dropped all our snack bar food in the sand today :)

She giggled. Glad he was also affected by their sunrise romp in the sand. Maybe tomorrow? She hedged instead. She really didn’t want to intrude.

Please, love. That would be wonderful.

She must have fallen asleep anyway. But she woke up to a knock at her door. She felt the claw clip sliding out of the back of her hair and she rubbed her eye as she made her way over. There stood Harry and two women outside the screen door. Each of them was holding a dish of (presumably) food. Immediately, she felt underdressed and stupid looking. “Uh, hey beautiful,” he smiled gently. “Sorry t’bother you. But seems the barbeque back there is out of gas,” he explained. “I sent y’a text—”

“Harry, the poor girl was sleeping,” his mother admonished. “I told you we could just go out to eat. Love, m’so sorry. I swear some days he was raised in a barn!” She shook her head. “We’ll leave you be.”

“No, no,” she shook her head quickly, the clip clattering from the ends of her hair to the floor. She felt her face warm, once more grateful for the tan skin to hide most of the blush rushing to her cheeks. She opened the door for them to enter and quickly swept the clip into her hands. “Make yourselves at home,” she said, and Harry ushered his mother toward the kitchen and out the back door toward the patio and grill. Gemma walked slower behind her family to give some reassurance to the girl who was struggling to fix her hair in the little entry way mirror.

“M’sorry about both of them in advance,” Gemma whispered. “Harry hasn’t been able to function normally all day and Mum is already in love with you. When you didn’t answer, it was the first coherent thought Mum had about not begging to see you and thus began Harry pacing waiting all of four minutes for your response before he said we could just come over like absolute lunatics.”

Oh God she liked Gemma. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I look like this,” she winced at the image of her reflection. She was all frizz and pillow lines from the couch where she fell asleep.

She snorted. “Please, we interrupted your evening. Your quiet time and relaxation. Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful,” she promised pressing a hand on her arm and headed after her brother and mother.

If she wasn't already--which she was pretty sure she was--Harry’s lovely little family was going to ensure she fell so hopelessly and terribly in love with Harry.

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whiskeyghoul · 2 months ago

Text

Reprimand || [Secondo/Papa Emeritus II X F!Reader]

A/N: Hello friends. Different from my previous criminal minds fics I decided to dip my toes in writing Ghost fics. Since I watched rite here rite now the flames of this fandom have been awakened once more. I am literally going insane. This fic got a bit out of hand. Like… I am not sorry but yeah it is long.

Credits: Divider by @wrathofrats

WC: 6,1K

Tags: p with plot, ghost, ghost band, secondo, punishment, purely self indulgent.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, unprotected, p in v, spanking, abuse of power if you squint, just all of them…

3 times. 3 separate times you have managed to embarrass yourself in front of the head of your satanic church. Papa Emeritus the second was not known to be one of the more forgiving papas. In all fairness he scared you a little, he was cold, intimidating. Every time you ran into him he made you tremble, perhaps that is why you embarrassed yourself so many times. Though something about his imposing presence filled you with a conflicting feeling. Along with feeling intimidated, a little scared to anger him, you felt a certain attraction.

The first time you embarrassed yourself, well, it was a doozy. You had joined the satanic church not too long ago. Settling in as a sister of sin quite well. The role assigned to you was mostly library duty, having a great insight in organization and keeping an inventory of texts, scripts and tomes along with other satanic literature. You were standing on a step stool, rearranging a shelf of books to make space for a new addition to the library. Softly humming to yourself, lost in thought as you pulled one of the larger books from the shelf. The biblichor filling your nose was wonderfully sweet and dusty. Giving it a thorough wipe with a dusting cloth. The gold embellishments shone on the leather as you tilted it side to side.

You were pulled from your thoughts as a smooth voice cleared its throat next to you. “Hand me that book on the top shelf. If you could.” You turned awfully fast, the book slipping from your hands in surprise. A squeak passed your lips as you felt your heartbeat pick up. A pained groan leaving the man before you as you just realized you dropped one of the heavier texts on the feet of Papa Emeritus the second. “Sorella.” His voice was low, his eyes dark and brows furrowed. Nose flaring as he took a deep breath. A scrutinizing gaze that made your hands tremble, your knees weak. “Papa! I am terribly sorry! Oh Sathanas, please forgive me.” You rambled an apology, trying to step down quickly from the step stool to go fetch something, anything, to lessen the blow of the book. Instead, in all your nerves and bumbling about, you nearly planted your face first into the ground. That would be if he hadn't reached out, grabbing your arm in a strong grip to keep you from falling face first. You found your footing, feeling your face flare bright red at the foolish display you had just made of yourself. His hand left your arm, and with it it's surprising warmth. “Once again, I apologize, Papa.” A stammering message you were, trying to beg for forgiveness from the figure you had only envisioned as intimidating. Only ever having spoken in passing, literally, a simple exchange when you walked past. Or watched him sermon, powerfully, passionately. Those sermons left you wondering at times, what he would be like to speak to.

You were waiting for him to scold you. Your eyes cast downward to your neatly polished black heels, suddenly every speck of dust on them was interesting to you. Remembering the book at his feet you quickly knelt down, picking it up and clutching it to your chest. Your heartbeat hammering against the leather bound book. “I asked for the book on the top shelf.” He stated it simply but firmly, not the scolding you expected. Maybe, he was giving you some reprieve for being new. “Ofcourse, I'm sorry.” You quickly stepped on the step stool, carefully this time. Placing the book in your hands back on its respective shelf. Reaching up to the book that laid horizontally on the top shelf. Your hands were trembling as you picked it up. Habit feeling too tight, too short, as you brought down the book. Looking down ever so slightly as you handed the book to Secondo. Whose eyes flicked up to your face from somewhere lower. “Thank you, sorella, now. Do not let it happen again. These are priceless after all. You shall be off with a warning. Only one.” His mismatched eyes bore into yours as he spoke. You swallowed thickly, eyes wide, nodding your head. “Ofcourse, thank you, Papa.” words all falling from your mouth without thinking. “Continue your work then.” He turned, his robes moving elegantly as he walked out of the library. Leaving you to wallow in self pity at the fool you made of yourself.

The second time, a ghoul came with the message that Secondo had instructed you to gather papers and texts from the library to bring to his quarters. He even sent a list. Eager to please after the previous embarrassment, you agreed in a heartbeat. When you had found everything you made your way towards the wing of his room, arms filled with old tomes and yellowed paper. Sore from the weight of it. You didn't understand why he would need all of these, but it must have been for some important research. Most of the texts in your arms were old, rare, and barely anyone picked them up in the library. Yet he had asked for them specifically. Heels clicking on the tile as you made way down the hallways to his quarters, reaching the door you realized there was no way for you to knock. You furrowed your brows, deciding to twist so your elbow hit the door twice. As close to a knock as you could get. “Enter.” Secondo's voice sounded from the other side of the wooden door. Staring at the door knob you had to think of something. You knocked again with a sigh. “Enter.” His voice sounded annoyed, clearly he was busy. Or perhaps having a bad day. “I- I brought the books.” You spoke loudly, hoping he'd be able to hear you. There was a muttered word you couldn't quite make out before he spoke again. “I expected that. I said, enter.” He sounded ticked off now, voice laced with the barest hint of anger.

You sighed, furrowing your brows as you tried to maneuver your elbow and hip just so that you could turn the doorknob. Pushing against it to make it easier to open. With a click, the door swung open, leaving you unbalanced and falling through the open space. The books and texts falling to the floor. Sprawling out onto the wood and carpet. “Cazzo!” Secondo cursed as he stood up. You scrambled onto your knees, gathering the papers closest to you as you repeated continued apologies. Forgetting the pain in your nose and elbows from where you fell. Not even feeling the warm drip that slowly slid down to your lips. Eyes glued to the books and papers on the floor. “Those are priceless artifacts. Idiotta. How are you even considered to handle these when you are so incompetent. Dropping books here and there.” His footsteps came close, coming to a halt right in your field of vision. Still, you didn't dare to look. “I am so sorry, Papa, you are right. I should be more careful.” Your hands never stilled their work, piling up the books in front of you. “Look at me when I am talking” His voice commanded. Your head snapped up, swallowing thickly as you caught his mismatched eyes again. The blood from your nose dripping on your habit. “You are like a bumble bee. Flying into everything, causing chaos in our system. We do not need a bumbling idiota to ruin our priceless artifacts.” He was right. In his presence you were terribly clumsy. He made you nervous. Your heart beat faster. Hands feeling uncharacteristically clammy all of a sudden. And your face once again heating with a fierce embarrassed blush.

“Now, corporal punishment seems redundant.” His eyes flicked down, where the blood dripped down to your habit, landing just on the swell of your breast. A harsh exhale sounded through his nose. “Fix your habit, sorella. I expect everyone to be in pristine condition. Even the bumble bees.” His remark was snide. You could imagine what you looked like to him. On your knees, blood dripping down your nose and mouth, reaching your chin to drip down further onto your habit and grucifix. Eyes wide, hands placed on your thighs, trembling ever so slightly. You licked your lips, tasting the metallic of your blood and embarrassment. You must have looked like a mess. Scrambling to your feet you wiped at your nose, finally daring to move with his permission. The blood staining the white cuff around your wrist. “I'm sorry again, Papa.” You repeated an apology before heading out the door and to your own quarters to change. Terribly disappointed in yourself you decided in that moment things needed to change.

So now you were here. The third time you were walking down towards the chapel with another sister of sin, you had been asked to bring the unholy communion to prepare for the mass that night. Being on your best behavior since the previous incidents. Your workload seemingly increasing, your proximity to secondo growing closer with each task he bestowed upon you. No more books dropped, no more stumbles, you did everything to behave and paid close attention to any movement you made. The efforts were working, Secondo had even so much as complimented you for it after you had helped prepare the altar for a ritual. In his own way. “Sorella, I've noticed a lack of bumble bees around. Your efforts don't go unnoticed. Well done.” hearing those two last words made your heart flutter. Perhaps it was due to finally receiving praise, or it was specifically receiving praise from him. Every look from him made your heart beat faster. Every chaste, accidental touch made you wonder what his hands would feel like on your body. Your thoughts wandering back to that second time, when he had mentioned corporal punishment. What that could mean, what he could do in that office of his. Especially after hearing a few of the sisters speak about singular thrysts they had had with him.

The pitcher of wine was surprisingly heavy in your hands. The fragrant wine was a deep, blood red. As you walked down the hallways you took careful steps, trying not to let the wine slosh over the side of the pitchers. “I don’t understand why we can not keep it in the bottles.” You sighed as you almost spilt a drop of wine. “Honestly it is probably just rituals left over from years ago. I'm almost certain they did an unholy prayer over them.” The sister, Elaine, answered in turn. You rolled your eyes at that, never understanding why traditions couldn’t be changed. “It feels almost like it is inevitable to spill it though.” You spoke, trying to keep up with Elaine. “Perhaps that is why you were asked to help.” She returned, a small smirk as she walked so effortlessly with the pitcher in hand. “What do you mean?” You hoped tales of your clumsiness hadn't yet spread all throughout the church. It was likely though. People talked, gossip was a given. “You don't know what they have been saying?” Elaine turned her face towards you with furrowed brows. A curious expression on your face. You shook your head no, truly not an idea of what she could be talking about. “Well, you have been given a lot of tasks by Secondo, have you not?” She questioned. “Yes, I thought he did so with most siblings.” you answered, honestly. Elaine shook her head no, a smirk playing at her perfectly painted lips. “Oh no, he's been testing you. Seeing if you will trip up again. He needs a reason you see.” Her voice lowered to a whisper as you walked. “A reason for what?” You asked, no longer paying attention to what was ahead of you. Fully invested in the information divulged. You rounded a corner together. “A reason to punish.” She smirked. The way she said it implied less than conventional punishment.

As you did you hadn't noticed the man you were just speaking about, a mere two steps away. “Sorella.” His voice was low and you jumped. Like you were caught red handed, gossiping about your papa. The pitcher of wine sloshed, the dark red liquid spilling out and down the front of your habit. the sound of it hitting the floor was incredibly loud in your ears. Watching as drops smattered outward and staining your shoes and stockings. Along with the hem of Secondos's papal robes. You had been doing so well. All efforts ruined by a simple muttering. By not paying attention to where you were going. Your eyes flickered to Elaine whose expression was a mix of amusement and horrified. Then, they landed on the stern expression of Secondo. His nostrils flared as he eyed your drenched habit. “Sec- Papa, I'm sorry, you frightened me. I- I should go get this cleaned up. I apologize.” The words fell from your lips in rapid succession, feeling the tension in your shoulders as you held on to the, now empty, pitcher like it was your life line. “No.” That one single word shut you up. Quickly shutting your mouth as you felt a shiver run down your spine. Maybe it was the wine, wetting your habit and making it cold and clingy. Or maybe it was the effect Secondo had on you. “Get a ghoul to clean this.” He turned his head to Elaine who nodded quickly, “ofcourse, Papa.” She spoke before leaving. Her heels clicking against the floor, trailing off and away.

“You are coming with me. Punishment seems only fair.” His hand wrapped around your upper arm, harshly pulling you along to where you knew his quarters to be. “I truly apologize. I've been trying my hardest. Please, Papa, forgive me.” He didn't listen to your begging. It didn't matter to him what you said in that moment. He seemed enraged. “You beg for forgiveness when you just blamed me for your incompetence?” He nearly hissed the words as he opened the door to his quarters. Pulling you inside and leaving you at the entrance. “I didn't- no! That's not what I meant! I'm sorry!” You tried to scramble, take back the words you had said. It wasn't your point to blame him at all. “Strip.” He commanded. Mismatched eyes trained on you as he took a step away. Discarding his robe to reveal a sinfully tight button down tucked into slacks. Delicate embroidered grucifixes on the collar. Combined with the papal painted, it was a sight to behold. You froze. Jaw slack. Mind going a hundred miles an hour, not comprehending his words and his actions together. “What?” You were like a deer in the headlights. “You are dripping red wine. We can't have you spoil the carpet in my office, can we? So, strip.” His voice did something to you, the firmness left no room for questioning. “Of-ofcourse.” You spoke with trembling hands reaching up to take off the white collar, its pristine condition forever marred with deep purple red blotches. “Leave it at your feet. The wood can be cleaned.” Secondos voice commanded and you nodded your head ever so slightly. Dropping the piece of cloth down to the floor.

Then, your hands moved to the back of your dress. Slipping down the zipper with practiced ease. you could hear your own heartbeat, feel it pulsing under your skin, each of your nerves on end as Secondo scrutinized every move. Slipping your arms from the garment, it fell to the floor in a pile at your feet. You felt naked. Every hair standing on end as the cool air hits your skin. The cool metal of your grucifix resting right in the middle of your sternum, falling between your breasts. You crossed your arms, trying to hide away from his burning eyes. “Feeling shy, sorella?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he enjoyed seeing you uncomfortable. “Well, I have a lot more planned to put you in your place. Maybe you will learn.” He added before walking over to the large, wooden desk that stood near the end of the room. Picking up a glass along with a crystal carafe, amber liquid sloshing around the bottom. He poured a glass, taking a sip and looking rather satisfied before topping it off. “This.” He said as he walked back over, “This is a whiskey, gifted to me when I became Papa. 25 years old, single malt, a bottle costs over 500 euros. You are to not spill a single drop from this glass. Easy enough, no?” He stared deep into your eyes, holding out the glass.

"Yes, Papa.” You said, as you reached out. It should be easy enough. Though the glass was shallow, and filled much higher than it should be. But standing there and holding a glass, even with your current trembling hands you could do that. He quickly moved it back ever so slightly out of reach. “Not like this, that would be too easy. Come.” He moved to the left, where a leather couch stood, a coffee table to the side. You watched as he sat down, patting his lap with his free hand. A wicked smirk taunting you as you realized what was going to happen. “Naughty girls like you deserve a spanking. Don't you think?” He tilted his head in your direction. His eyes traveling down your body with a hint of hunger. Dropping your hands to your sides, clenching them in small nervous fists. “You're right, ofcourse.” There was no reason to argue. You could feel a knot tighten in your stomach, as you clenched your thighs together for a mere second. Hoping that the sudden onset of arousal was just an illusion. You took the few steps to close the distance, standing in front of Secondo who tilted his head up to look at you. “Don't make me wait too long, bumble bee. Or should I extend the punishment already for your insubordination?” He patted his lap again, gloved hand on thick, sturdy thighs. “no, of course not.” You spoke softly as you were driven to action. Bracing a hand on one of his thighs as you laid yourself onto his lap. Your knees are unable to hit the ground, trying to find stability before you take a deep breath and remove your hands from the ground. Accepting the cold glass into your hands like an offering. “Here you go. Remember, not a drop gets wasted.” You nodded your head as he spoke. “Yes, I remember.” You said. “Good, I think ten will be fitting, yes?” It wasn't a question but still you agreed.

You thought you were ready, taking in a deep breath through your nose. When that first spank didn't come you were a little confused. Tilting your head to have a look at Secondo, but as soon as you tilted your head the first spank came. Jolting forward at the sudden, sharp impact on the left side. The feel of the leather glove on your exposed behind stung. The size of his palm branding in your skin. You gasped, looking back towards the cup, realizing that if you spilled but a single drop you would only get yourself in more trouble. “Count them out, sorella.” He said as his hand rubbed gently at the skin for a second. The leather was somewhat cool now against the reddening skin. “One.” You spoke, voice teetering on quivering. Your eyes stayed glued on the cup this time, as you felt his hand leave your skin. It came down again with force, pushing the wind out of your lungs with a strangled groan. “Two.” You said, counting out like he had told you to. His hand once again rubbing at the supple skin of your ass.

Again. "Three." Each time he switched sides. Around the fifth spank you had to bite your tongue. His hand lingered longer than before, squeezing. Just inches away from where you could feel a wetness start to form between the folds of your pussy. Praying to Satan that he wouldn't notice. “How many was that, sorella?” You could feel him lean in closer, his weight shifting as he nearly whispered wanting your answer. His breath hitting the shell of your ear. "F-Five." “Half way, you are doing very well.” He praised. Those simple words, the way he was touching you enough to get you hot and heavy. You moved your hips involuntarily, trying to get some form of relief. A low chuckle escaped him, “Something wrong, little bee?” He asked and you shook your head no. “No, Papa, please, continue.” Your voice was whinier than you expected, high pitched and a little breathless. His hand left your ass, your eyes flicked up to see him remove his leather glove with his teeth putting it to the side before he spoke. “So eager to get reprimanded, I might get used to it.” He spoke and before you could comprehend it he spanked you two times in quick succession. The stinging a mix of pain and pleasure. “Seven!” You exclaimed as you held your hands steady. Trying to focus on the amber liquid rather than the feeling of large hands inching ever closer to your trembling pussy. Or the swelling you could start to feel press against your side.

“Eight!” “Nine!” Only one more, and you hadn't spilled a drop. Even though your legs were trembling, your arms felt a little sore from holding the cup, ass incredibly sore from the spanking, and not even to speak of the state of your panties. But you were doing good. Great even. “Last one, little bee, do well and I'll be able to give you something you might enjoy.” His breath hit the shell of your ear, feeling hot and intimate in a way. His words do nothing to help the state of your arousal. Only worsening as thoughts began to run through your mind. Pictures of what he might do flashing into your subconscious. When that final spank came you were shocked, jolting forward as his hand hit lower than you were expecting. Directly hitting your wet cunt. You couldn't help the strangled moan that tumbled from your lips. A rush of pain and pleasure flowing through your body. “You did so well, sorella.” His fingers languidly trailed up and down your clothed pussy, the wet fabric was sticky and clinging to every curve and fold. His fingers felt large, thick, through the cloth. “Though… It seems you have been enjoying this punishment more than anything.” A chuckle sounded out above you as his free hand picked up the glass from your hands. Taking a deep sip and letting out an appreciative sigh. “Is that why you are so clumsy, little bee? Have you been distracted by your papa?” His voice was taunting, as his hand continued his ministrations on your weeping cunt. “I-i have been doing my best.” You answered. Refusing to confess to what you both knew to be the truth. "Yes, you have.” his fingers left your cunt. A whimper escaping you at the loss.

It didn't last long though. The glass of whiskey was placed off on the coffee table before Secondo easily maneuvered you from his lap. Onto your knees in front of him. You could see the outline of his dick, straining against the black pants. Mouth watering at the sight of it. “You've been doing so well, wanting compliments no? Wanting to be seen, to be rewarded for your efforts?” He asked, his hand cradling your face almost tenderly. Like he hadn't just used it to spank you sore, to tease you over your clothes. You nodded your head yes, not trusting yourself to answer verbally. “I'll give you what you want.” His words were short before his tender touch turned to a grip. Pulling you up, as he stood smoothly. You nearly tripped but kept standing, your face in his strong grip as he led you to his desk. Turning so you were with your back towards it, he lifted you, forcing you to sit on the edge. The cool, polished wood smooth against your raw ass cheeks. When you looked up at him, you saw hunger in those mismatched eyes. A sight you had only fantasized about up till now. Licking your lips quickly, wetting them just before his lips crashed against yours.

A mix of harsh kisses, biting teeth as Secondo guided you to lay back against the desk. The kiss tasted of caramel whiskey, smooth, bitter and still sweet. His hands roaming over your hips, your waist, squeezing over your bra before they moved down. Eliciting moans and gasps from you that were swallowed up into the kiss. You couldn't wait any longer though, needing more from him than he was giving. Legs wrapping around his waist, a silent plea for him to be closer. Your hand wandered down on its own. Cupping the bulge straining in his pants. His groan didn't go unnoticed, low in his chest as your fingers applied pressure. “Such a tease, sorella.” He pulled away from the kiss. Unbuttoning his shirt as he spoke. The paint around his mouth is already starting to smudge by the sloppiness of the kiss. “I'm not a tease Papa, I want it.” You panted out, licking your lips as you watched him. The trail of hair down his chest being revealed inch by inch. The way it thickened towards the edge of his pants. How solid his torso looked. “Not just now, ever since the library.” His words came out strained, as he worked to undo his belt. The clinking of it signaled its removal, before the zipper sounded. “I didn't tease, I was surprised.” You countered, sitting up to help him but Secondo quickly pushed you back down on the desk. “You have no clue. Clueless little bee. In that habit, with those doe eyes, with that voice, in this lingerie. You. You are a tease.” His hand wrapped into the thin fabric of your panties. bundling it up between the puffy lips of your pussy. Giving it a harsh tug causing you to moan at the friction against your clit. That seemed to be the catalyst, he ripped the panties down, letting them fall to the ground at his feet. His left hand pulled his erection from the confines of those sinful pants, apparently having gone commando. A deep groan escaped him as he gave himself a few tugs. You watched, in awe at the size of it. The length was impressive, sure, but the girth was what really made you shiver with anticipation.

“Seeing you, on your knees in front of me, I barely kept my composure.” Secondo slipped the head of his cock between your folds. Coating it with the slick and rubbing the tip against your clit teasingly. Biting your lip, you looked up, his words a confession. He wanted control, wanted tidiness and regulations. Yet he also seemed to get irrevocably turned on by your disruption of it all. You were, in his eyes, a perfect disruption. A groan escaped his mouth as the head of his cock bumped against your clit. “Please.” You begged, voice high pitched as you moved your hips slightly, creating more friction for yourself. “Such an eager thing. All wet from getting punished, pleading for your papa. Begging so nicely I might just give you what you want.” He said lowly. Using one of his large hands to splay across your lower abdomen, keeping you in place with a simple pin of his hand. The right one grabbing the base of his dick to line the tip up with your entrance. Pushing inside, the head slipped in with a delicious stretch, your eyes closing on their own. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he pushed in deeper. It was slow, you could feel every inch stretching you further with restraint. He was holding back, you could feel it, making sure you felt him completely. When his hips met yours and he was fully inside, Secondo groaned from the back of his throat. You could feel the fabric from his pants against your ass, the zipper a stark, cold contrast to the softness of them. “Look at me, Sorella.” He commanded, your eyes snapping open to meet his. His pupils were blown wide, the blue-ish gray and white almost completely absorbed by the black. His right hand, moving to grab your thigh, as he gave an experimental thrust. “Such a good sister. Doing exactly as her papa asks.” He said as a moan tumbled from your lips at the friction. The praise went straight to your core, feeling your walls clamp around his thickness.

“You like that huh, like to get praised?” He almost chuckled as he pulled his hips back. “Just your praise.” You managed to utter a little breathless as you felt him pulling out until the head of his dick was just inside of you. His right hand traveled down your leg, reaching your knee he pulled it away from his waist. Lifting it up to rest your leg against his shoulder. “I shall give you just that then.” he said, pressing a kiss to your calf before he plunged back inside of you with a force you hadn’t expected. A strangled moan escaped you as the air left your lungs. It was the start of a grueling pace. His thrust hitting deep, each one punctuated by a moan or a whine tumbling from your lips. His left hand pressed down on your lower abdomen. “I can feel myself inside you like this.” He groaned, leaning forward ever so slightly, “So tight. You are welcoming me so well. Like you were made for me.” He praised breathlessly. You clamped down at his words, earning you another moan from him. Leaning down further he captured your lips in a hungry kiss. Your hands reaching out, right arm wrapping around his shoulder as your tongues slid against each other in synchronicity. Left hand on his cheek, holding his face close. Your left knee was pressed up to your chest, the new position felt like he got even deeper, hitting that spongy area inside of you that caused white spots to infiltrate your vision. An incredibly wanton moan bubbled past your lips, being swallowed up by him.

The only sound that filled the office was that of his hips meeting yours, sloppy and wet from your pussy. Paired with the moans and groans you shared in the kiss. Teeth clashing together every so often. It was electrifying. When he pulled away from the kiss he moved down, licking, kissing and biting his way down to your neck before moving away. You thought he never looked hotter. Completely undone, licking his shining lips. His papal paints now completely smudged away from his lips, black and white mixing around to create a darker gray. His breath comes out in pants and grunts with each thrust. Fanning against your lips and sending a shiver down your spine. His right hand moved up your side, reaching your flimsy bralette and fingers pushing underneath. Squeezing at the soft flesh, massaging your breast in his hand. Fingers reach to tweak at your nipple, causing another surge of pleasure through your body.

You dropped your left hand, finding his hand perched on your lower abdomen. The familiar knot growing inside of you, tightening with each thrust, each meeting of your hips to his. “Papa, I- fuck- touch me- more- please-” You beg, sentences cut short but it was clear what you wanted. A smirk graced his stoic features, his hand slid down and towards your weeping cunt, “look at me when you cum. I want to see how good your papa makes you feel.” His voice is strained, low and deep in his chest. When his pointer and middle finger started to strum slowly at your clit you could feel you were done for. Pussy started to clench around his dick that kept on hitting that spot perfectly. It was almost too much, almost. You had to force yourself to keep your eyes open.

Secondo continued to apply pressure to your sensitive clit, moving his fingers in tight circles as he watched your every reaction. A string of curse words fell from your lips as that knot tightened, clamping down as he never seemed to falter in his pace. The muscles in your thighs twitched as you felt it snap inside you. Jaw slack as you moaned, vision blurry with pleasure. Waves of it rushing through you like white hot lava under your skin. Your walls spasmed around him as he fucked you through the orgasm. When you came down, however, he didn’t let up. His fingers continued to work, as his pace picked up, nearing painful. Though the pain was mixed with undeniable pleasure. Not giving a moment of respite, you could feel the second orgasm building quickly.

“I am going to fill you up.” Secondo groaned through gritted teeth. “And you will keep it inside you until after mass.” his pace faltered, becoming less controlled, more wild. “And if you spill a single drop. You will be punished again.” The idea of this not being a one time thing made you excited. “Yes, yes, please give it to me.” You spoke as you nodded your head. He picked up speed, you could feel his dick twitch inside of your sensitive pussy. Hips meeting yours, his fingers never faltered as he tried to push you over the edge of orgasming again. Still sensitive you could feel it all, this time you couldn’t even bring out a sound as it washed over you. Splotches entering your field of vision as white hot pleasure ran through you again. When your pussy clamped around Secondo’s dick you felt him reach his peak. Hot cum filling you up in spurts and twitches with a loud groan of your name. His hips stilled, slow thrusts as he emptied himself inside of you. His breathing was ragged as he stood up straighter, moving your left leg off of his shoulder gently. Still, with his softening dick inside of you. You watched his chest rise and fall, trying to match your own unruly breathing to his to calm down. Feeling tired and completely fucked out. There was a moment of serenity in the quiet, matched breathing. A peaceful moment as you kept his gaze.

A few seconds of pure devotion.

Secondo was the first to move again, slowly pulling out you hissed. Feeling empty and sensitive. You clamped around nothing. trying to keep his seed from spilling out of you. “You should get ready for mass.” Secondo said though his eyes were trained on your clenching pussy. “I don’t have a clean habit, or my panties.” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “A ghoul will get them.” Secondo spoke as his left hand reached out. His fingers find your entrance easily, dipping his middle and pointer inside causing a pained whimper from you. Giving a few lazy thrusts with his fingers he smirked as you squirmed away. “Not a drop. Remember?” He said before pulling his fingers out again. “Does that count as a spilled drop?” You asked as you could see the mixed fluids on those thick, long fingers. “Not if you don’t waste it.” He held them up and moved them to your lips. You opened your mouth wordlessly, welcoming those fingers and cleaning them off. Tongue moving over his fingers, in between and taking every drop of what he would give you. A strange combination of his and your arousal. His eyes darkened with lust as he watched you work his fingers like it could have been his dick. When he took them from your mouth he seemed a little torn.

“I will see you at mass.” He spoke as he started to button his shirt. You watched him get dressed before he disappeared into a different room. A ghoul entered the office with your clothes a few moments later. You covered yourself, a little embarrassed at your near nudity. Though the ghoul didn’t seem to mind, a knowing smile on his face. So, you got dressed after he left, getting ready to go to mass as you did everything you could to not spill a drop of Secondo’s cum. Sitting in the front pew at mass with the left leg crossed over the right, listening to him preaching about the dark lord. Squirming in your seat as you tried to keep everything inside. Switching to cross your right over your left you felt it. The slow drip of liquid pooling in your panties. Your breathing hitched, and your eyes met Secondo, a wicked glint in his eyes as he knew.

It was going to be a long mass.

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piratesfromspace · 11 months ago

Text

Night Blue (Price x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Price

Rated: Mature

Word count: 3k

Summary: "Between two containers, he sees the target, bloodied and tied up to the floor." or when Price comes to your rescue.

Note: I'm not the author of this fic, it is actually a Christmas gift from my boyfriend (yes I have the best boyfriend ever)! He writes for a living and has yet to dip his toes in fanfic territories, but I think he did fantastic and was very good at writing with the female gaze in mind. His take on Price has me drooling. He used the codename Rain, but note this is not part of the Rain Universe. Please let him know in the comment what you think of his first CoD fanfic!

Content: military!fem!reader, Reader has blue eyes but no body description other than that, mention of food & alcohol, rescue mission, implied torture, competency kink, typical level of violence

Muffled voices. Metallic clinking. Crowded interior. This could be your next mission. Or the last one. But it isn’t. It’s only a date. Well, Only. If only “only” could be only. It isn’t. It’s been years. You know him. This isn’t a first. But somehow, your heart is racing. It’s a fancy restaurant, after all. In the middle of good old London. He always had great taste, if not old-fashioned. But he’s late. He’s always late. You never understood that. How could someone that precise on the field be this messy in civvy street? Where the heck is he?

Did he try to take the tube? Again? He can’t do that. Not anymore. Not after what happened the last time 141 was deployed in London. He should be in a cab right now, on his way, with a big, innocent grin on his face. At least, you hope he is. You don’t want to drink this expensive bottle alone. Spend the night by yourself. Fall asleep in a cold bed.

“Don’t let me down, Bravo 6.”

You said it aloud with a sigh. Someone answers.

“Oh, you know I won’t, darling.”

He’s here. Where did he come from? Doesn’t matter. His noise discipline is on point. That’s something he brings from the field. Ever so stealthy, he takes the chair before you and says “hi” in his thick accent. Thick as his moustache. What’s the name again? Mutton chops or something. He’s so damn proud of it. It’s cute. You noticed he trimmed it for the occasion and probably added some kind of oil to it. You smell it from here. An odd but somewhat comforting smell. Like a cosy fireplace or a warmish glass of Scotch. You wonder if your sheets will smell like that in the morning. He’s trying to say something, but you're already lost in the thought. Split seconds where you don’t listen, only think about those infamous mutton chops climbing your legs. Focus, damn it. What is he wearing? A suit? That’s strange. Well, you always thought anything besides a loaded chest rig looked weird on him. Wait, no. That’s not true. He wears jumpers and cardigans quite nicely. You always pictured him as an old British gentleman. A sailor embarking on a frail boat. Or a hunter walking to a black forest. Something like that. Old-fashioned indeed. It’s an acquired taste.

So you talk. Like a lot. Spend time in each other’s eyes. Those grey-blue marbles, in which you see more than what is said. The joy of the moment, of being here, yes. But also the sadness, the pain. What is supposedly left behind, somewhere on a desolated field, and yet always comes back to scratch those eyes. It’s okay. You have the same. That’s why it’s working. But you remember. You remember how bright, much brighter, these eyes were the first time you saw them.

TEN YEARS AGO

Black and white. Night and snow. Somewhere in Northern Europe, the winter wind sweeps the clouds across the sky and dusts the flakes off the trees. But two bushes remain still. Until they don’t. All ghillied up, two operators crawl in powder snow. They talk as loud as the wind allows them to.

“Follow me and keep low, lieutenant. Target’s right ahead.”

“Solid copy.”

Captain MacMillan leads the way in near-total silence. His second in command, Lieutenant John Price, tries to keep up. He misses the warmth of the base. Of a pub. Of anything warmer than this icy desert at this point. But he needs to stay focused. They’re deep into enemy territory, trying to retrieve an ally he only knows by reputation. A track record he admires. So he wonders. What happened? A trap? A mistake? Perhaps it’s a warning in disguise. It goes to show that no one is ever too good to get caught. To get killed.

Listen to the captain. Do what the captain says, his head repeats. Enough to forget his instincts or the will to think for himself. Violence and timing. Once you’re on the field, only these two matter. They don’t require you to think. Only to act, and act at the right moment. Old man MacMillan told him so. And despite his age, Alpha Six is teaching him a lesson. The captain moves like a damn ghost. The cold doesn’t seem to bother him. It’s almost like the snow melts around him so he can look like a real bush. The deadliest bush in the country, probably.

“It’s a goddamn convention around here, John.”

Price looks down. The warehouse and its surroundings are barely lit, but using thermal goggles, he can already count twelve guns guarding the target, plus three engineers working on an Infantry Fighting Vehicle. Guards, not soldiers. The new plague of the free world: PMCs. Former soldiers, swapping insignias for fatter paychecks. Russian, probably. He hears them talking through the wind. Or maybe French. They hire all across Europe, after all. The captain’s accent brings him back to Scotland.

“We could wait for them to break off, but that’d be playing with the target’s life, and we’d probably freeze our asses to death… There’s only one way to do this, innit?”

“Right. Care for a suggestion, captain?”

“I’m all hears, lieutenant.”

“That IFV. Maybe it is operational. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t want to find out. We take it down first. C4 should do the trick. They hear the boom. We split. You dance, I get inside. Once the target’s identity is confirmed, I take the long trek home through the forest, and meet you at LZ.”

“You forget your rank, lieutenant. Why should I be the one dancing, John?”

“With all due respect captain, you forget your back. I’m sure the target’s a big boy. Unless you’re ready for the fireman carry of your life, you let me do it. If you hurt yourself, who will put those Christmas lights on the tree? Your wife will never forgive me…”

“Alright John, lead the way.”

They don’t need their ghillies anymore. The bushes become men. They check their weapons. Price is about to take point when MacMillan nudges him. His fatherly smile almost lights the dark.

“The next time you bring my wife into this kid, you’re going down.”

“Roger that, captain.”

One of the engineers went for a cigarette. Lord bless the smokers. They all leave their post, eventually. Even when they don’t, that smoke will shake their focus. Move fingers away from triggers, grenades, alarms. Enjoy that last cigarette, lad. This smoke’s about to kill you faster than lung cancer. MacMillan jumps from the white shadows, arms instantly locked on his prey. His combat knife bites. Screams die in the engineer’s throat. Blood bubbles explode. The wind covers almost everything. The fluff of the snow takes care of the rest.

Words come to them, though, and both captain and lieutenant freeze instantly. Their weapons are up, ready to strike. But they don’t want to fight. Not here, not now. More words. Price is trying to make sense of them, but he skipped too many classes for that. Damn you and your bad boy attitude, he thinks, until he hears a laugh. The words are repeated, but not as a question. That delivery transcends all languages. It’s a joke. Tension goes down, but MacMillan is already one step ahead.

Pripyat. Urzikstan. Many more. Price has fought next to the captain since he joined the SAS. It’s a weird thing, but by now, he probably knows him better than friends. Better than family. And it shows. They don’t have to speak, but that’s always been a requirement on the field. What’s more impressive is they don’t have to sign full sentences either. They’ve experienced enough settings and parameters to understand how the situation will eventually play out. So they commit to the action, together, before the scenario can even start. Like two polished pieces of the same high-precision clock, they act as one to define time itself.

“Together”, he signs.

For the two engineers, it’s time to die. Focused on the scratched hull of their IFV, these poor bastards never see it coming. A .45 ACP bullet penetrates their skulls at subsonic speed and settles down in their brains, avoiding any ricochet on the armoured surface of the vehicle. They climb on top of the tank. Price removes the bodies to find a hatch while MacMillan gets a block of C4 ready. Except for the wind, the place is silent. Which means no one knows they’re here. Good. But it could also mean the target is dead by now. The same thought has crossed the captain’s mind. He suddenly acts faster, despite the gloves and the numbed fingers they’re supposed to protect. Price follows and places the C4 inside the IFV, next to what he remembers to be a fuel tank.

About ninety-two seconds later, John learns his memories are correct. From the safety of distance, MacMillan has blown the IFV straight to hell in one glorious explosion. But it only takes about twenty more seconds for the PMC to react, learns Price on his watch. And that’s bad news. They’re still sharp. Drilled. Ready to respond. And they do. John counts half of them spreading out of the warehouse through truck gates and access doors. Their plan is sound. They’re looking out, trying to nullify the effect of surprise with a solid assessment of who or what is outside.

And it’s only one man, but he gives them a round for their money. MacMillan uses every trick in the book and every weapon he carries to make them think there’s a whole squad hunting for them behind the snow, between those big black trees. And they fall for it. At least one of the mercenaries does, and chooses to provide firing support from the door he was supposed to shut behind his comrades.

John sees the opportunity immediately. Timing. In just a few rounds, the mercenary will have to reload. Or maybe he will suddenly realise the door is still open and stop firing. An empty mag hits the floor, and Price jumps out of cover. Violence. He grabs the mercenary’s weapon with one hand while the other secures the kill. The bastard’s heavy, and the thump of his fall makes a lot of noise. Silenced handgun raised, Price waits for a moment, scanning the entry corridor for potential targets. But no one comes. More words, inside. More shots, outside. Chaos is settling in, everywhere.

Another opportunity, then. Price presses on, checking his corners with the precision of a machine. A door opens to his right. Two mercs, rushing out of a room to help their comrades overwhelmed by MacMillan’s tactics. John is almost as surprised as they are, but not quite. Timing. They’re too fast, and likely to fire from the hip. Violence. He empties his mag on the two targets. One mercenary drops suddenly, like a puppet cut from its strings. The other falls, but slowly. His vest caught the heat. If he’s good, there’s a chance he might go for a sidearm, or a knife. No time to reload then. Price runs and then falls on his knees to finish his target with a clean cut from his combat blade. The bastard knows death is coming, but he’s not ready to embrace it just yet. His arms move in a life-or-death reflex, and Price is stopped a few centimetres away from a kill. There’s no timing anymore. Only violence, a test of raw strength. John tries to stab the merc down the neck. The poor guy can’t do anything but buy some time, and wait a few seconds for someone to go check the corridor. But no one comes for him. Only death, in the form of a straight silver blade slowly piercing his throat.

Rolling to the side, Price suddenly remembers to breathe. Staying on his back, he reloads his weapon without thinking, his two eyes locked on the door the mercs have opened seconds prior. He counts. One when he entered. Two in the corridor. With half of them still outside fighting MacMillan, that’s two mercenaries unaccounted for. Usually, it is the wounded, the insecure or the frightened you leave behind. But when it comes to target protection, it’s the other way around. Your last wall of defence is also the toughest. The big guns stay with the target until the end. If Price wasn’t so actively trying not to think, maybe he would have remembered that.

He enters the room. More like a hangar. It’s dark. Only the moon and distant muzzle flashes provide some light through large, rectangular windows. Timing? Put the night vision set on, find the bastards, and apply a bit of violence. Wait. Price holds on to his set. Did someone cut the power? It could be MacMillan toying with them. But more likely, the mercs have figured their opponents are properly equipped. And now, they’re just waiting for Price to put his night vision on. They want him to rely on the tool, for there’s no faster way to blind a man than putting the power back at the right moment. So Price throws the night vision set away, into the room. Five thousand quid of government-issued tech crash on the industrial floor. One second. Two seconds. The light goes back and the night vision set dies a second time, broken apart by crossfire.

The shots from the right probably came from that little accounting office Price sees through a piece of shattered glass. He resists the urge to throw a grenade, that could threaten the target’s life. His back on the wall, he’s getting closer to the office. More words. They come from the left. These mercs can’t shut up to save their lives. What is it this time? There’s a trace of panic in the sentences. They’re probably asking for reinforcements, but there’s a hell lot of static on the other end of the line. MacMillan has done his part, and there’s no military base around anyway. In typical Laswell fashion, Kate had saved the only piece of good news for the end of her briefing, Price remembers. So good luck with that, lad. But keep talking. The echo allows John to move closer and closer to his next kill. Until the warehouse is silent again. Until something inside the office decides to move.

It’s a lock. Inside the door, it jiggles enough for Price to notice someone’s about to leave the office. He waits for the final click to bash the gate. It arrives a split-second later, and John kicks the door like his dad used to kick rugby balls on Sunday mornings. Wood breaks. Bones follow. Price puts another bullet in another skull. It happens so fast the merc can’t even fight or scream. But his finger was already on the trigger, so his assault rifle yelled for him. The burst catches price off-guard. Bullets pound his plate and the walls alike. He falls.

When the kick finally fades, the world is backwards. Literally. Between two containers, he sees the target, bloodied and tied up to the floor. Or is it the ceiling? He’s not sure anymore. His ears are buzzing. His chest is compressed by the impact. There’s no gun in his hands. He wants to rise but he can’t. Someone comes. Someone that’s not MacMillan. Price rolls from back to belly. The world looks finally looks right again. Well, right as it can be when you’re crawling unarmed in the face of the Grim Reaper.

His weapon raised, the last merc stops next to the target and fires. Not rounds, but words. More words. Insults, probably. Weirdly, they’re not aimed at Price. They’re for whoever is still under the same black hood they always put on prisoners. She answers, proudly, in their language.

Wait, she?

Gunshots. They come from outside, from the forest. Surprised, the last merc tries to sneak a look between the crates. Price gathers the little strength he has left to look for a weapon. But he’s still dizzy. A hippo with a full belly would be faster. He looks up, facing death with both eyes open. Only death doesn’t come for him. The target is free. She climbs on the mercenary like a damn spider, using her legs to maintain the bastard’s weapon against his chest while she strangles him with the little piece of plastic tying her two hands. John finally finds his sidearm. He wants to help her. He wants to shoot. But SAS lieutenant John Price is not so sure of his aim anymore. So he looks, and eventually, the mercenary crumbles.

Price now moves a bit faster and a bit closer. The target’s still fighting. But her prey is long dead. There’s no breathing left in him. His neck is broken. So broken that little piece of plastic is slowly severing head from body. And yet she fights, furiously. Moving slowly, talking even slower, he tries to calm her down. She releases her grip on the dead mercenary. Describing his every move out loud, John carefully guides his blade between her two hands and next to her neck. Underneath the bruises and the cuts, she’s a woman alright. Their eyes locked. Back to the mission.

“Lieutenant John Price, British SAS. I need your codename, fast.”

“Why are you here? I had it under control!”

Her voice is confident. Not a single taint of doubt in it. Price chuckles.

“I’m not sure I see it that way, darling. Now, give me your codename so I can get you out of here.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Again. Confident. She’s looking at the half-decapitated mercenary with disdain, not disgust. She killed before. In more ways than one. More brutal ways.

“I had it under control.”

Her time to chuckle. She pauses. Takes one good look at him. That sort of threatening gaze birds of prey will give you if you happen to drive through their land. She measures. Judges. And weirdly enough, the whole thing ends with a sight smile.

“Codename’s Rain. Nice to meet you, lieutenant. Now, can a lady get a proper extraction, or what?”

“Sure thing, ma’am. Follow me.”

They grab some gear and step out of the warehouse. Outside, the night is silent again. The moon shines on the black of the trees. The white of the snow. The red of the dead bodies.

And the blue of their eyes.

#price x reader #cod fanfiction #captain price x reader #jonathan price #captain john price #john price x reader #captain price imagine #captain price #captain price fanfic #search and rescue #light angst #hurt/comfort #fem reader

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blasphemous-lies-and-deceit · 4 months ago

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21. You're gonna get paint on the carpet, for whatever ship you want? :]

"Greetings, weary traveler," Gerry called theatrically as Michael opened the door of the flat. "Stay on your guard, it's a bit of a mess in here."

Michael burst out laughing, both at Gerry's grand proclamation and at the sight of him. Their kitchen was covered in drop cloths, and both those and Gerry himself were absolutely covered in wet paint. "Having fun, love?" he giggled, stepping in fully and kicking off his shoes.

"You know it," Gerry shot back gleefully. He did look like he was thoroughly enjoying himself- paint was smeared in his hair and across his face, which was completely free of his usual makeup and accessories. His dramatic gothic style was gone, in favor of messy casual clothes, and his eyes were wide and joyfully manic as he ran his brush over the canvas set before him. "I had this image in my head and I just had to get it out, and it looks great! It's exactly how I wanted it to look, and I'm...I'm actually happy with it."

"That's great," Michael encouraged, hurrying over so he could see the art too. "What's the inspo-oh!"

It was him.

It was him painted on the canvas, laying back against bedsheets so dark they were like the night sky. His hair was flung one direction, his body the other, long and languid and tastefully naked. The painted Michael's eyes were closed, and the expression on his face wasn't one Michael was used to seeing in the mirror, but Gerry must have known by heart- peaceful and relaxed and just a bit smug. Michael could almost feel the love Gerry had painted into it, could see it in the way his body curved on the bed, every freckle and dip shaded and distinct, his curls a wild golden spray across the canvas. The sight of it punched all the words from his chest, leaving him aching in a way he didn't know he could. It was...he was...beautiful.

"I'm really happy with your chest," Gerry noted distractedly, fruitlessly wiping his hands on an already-ruined towel. "And your hair. It's hard to see in this lighting, but I mixed some glitter in with the glaze, so you'll be sparkling when it dries. I feel like that fits you, you know, especially since- oh, no. Michael?"

Gerry hurried over to him, and Michael gasped, chest shuddering with unexpected sobs as he covered his mouth to hold them back. Paint-covered hands reached for him, hesitated, then surged forward to cup his cheeks, the chemical smell strong in his nose as Gerry swiped away his tears, tender and soft and just a bit worried. "Please tell me these are happy tears," he begged.

Michael nodded, fighting down another sob. "They are," he sniffed, closing his eyes and hunching down towards Gerry. "It's so beautiful. I can't believe you made me look so beautiful."

"That's how you look, love. That's what I see every time I look at you." Gerry surged up on his toes, pulling Michael's face down for a kiss. "You are so beautiful to me, you always are, and...and you always will be. Years from now I'll still be painting you and you'll still be beautiful, and I'll still love you just as much."

Michael sobbed again at the choked sincerity in Gerry's voice. It was raw and real, and as true as their love now. It was something he could picture so easily, him with silver in his hair and lines on his face, and Gerry more slow and sedate, but the two of them, together, just as they were now. "Yes," he agreed thickly, ducking down to kiss Gerry again. "Yes. Yes."

That was the most he could manage to say while so overwhelmed with emotion, but Gerry understood. His thumbs stroked over Michael's cheeks, leaving colorful paint behind across his skin as he kissed him again. He was beautiful too, and Michael wished he was an artist as well, so he could show Gerry how he saw him, covered in color and free of the horrors in their life, just for a short time. What he would do to give that to Gerry, every day that he could.

Michael sniffed and finally stepped back, gently nudging Gerry back into the safety of their kitchen. "You're gonna get paint on the carpet," he chuckled, and Gerry did as well, wiping his hands on his paint-covered trousers.

"I'll clean this up if you order takeout," he suggested, before apparently giving up on his trousers and wiping his hands on his shirt. Michael hoped it wouldn't come out in the laundry, so he could steal that painted shirt for himself. "Your art still needs to dry a bit, I don't want to move it just yet."

"Sounds perfect to me," Michael agreed happily, drying the last of his tears without smudging the paint on his face. That could stay right there where it belonged.

#the magnus archives #tma fanfic #gerry keay #michael shelley #gerrymichael #rebelwriting

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girlwiththepapatattoo · 1 year ago

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The Unlikely Similarities Between Kittens and Vampires

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing: Astarion x Female!Tav

Warnings: an almost kiss, some sexual tension, Astarion being himself

Summary: Very early into their adventure, the city-raised druid Sable and her new companion Astarion have an interesting conversation at camp.

Notes: Yes I'm part of the Astarion simp pile, but I never asked for this! Anyway, have a one shot. (That I managed to keep a reasonable length, go me!)

Read on Ao3 here!

The firelight dances, creating shadows that flit in and out of the campsite, playing along tents, keeping those that sleep under the stars company. Crickets chirp cheerily, owls hoot in the distance; the night is peaceful.

Which is why Sable is away from her post on the first watch. Instead of at the campfire, she’s down by the river, sitting on a rock and dipping her sore feet in the river. She knows that there’s only trouble when the nocturnal sounds stop.

Or, well, so she’s read.

The elf leans back on her hands, looking up at the gorgeous night sky. The novelty of a crystal clear sky hasn’t worn off yet, a riot of white and bright blue pinpricks, with the occasional rare red thrown in. She traces constellations she’s only seen in books and swishes her toes through the gentle current below.

“Well, you’ve certainly taken to nature rather well,” a voice simpers behind her. She doesn’t need to turn around to see who it is, even though her traveling companions are very new. That incredibly smooth tone could only belong to Astarion, the elf with the red eyes and rather prominent canine teeth. “I’m almost jealous.”

Sable can’t help but smile faintly. Despite his propensity for selfishness so far, she can’t help but like the man. Which she knows is a problem, even if she knows that he doesn’t know she knows yet. “Almost being the key word.”

A soft chuckle graces her ears, and she hears him step up next to the rock she’s sitting on. “Of course. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion. I want no part of it.”

She hums in acknowledgement. “I agree.”

“Ah. I knew you were sensible.” He watches as the cool river water flows past his companion’s toes, his eyebrow arching. “Does that…feel good?”

“It does, yes,” is her soft response. “Helps ease the ache after walking all day. I can move over if you’d like to join in.”

He hesitates, looking at the running water trepidatiously, before rolling his eyes at himself and nodding. “Oh, very well.” She grins faintly and moves over as he pulls his boots and socks off. He rolls up his pant legs, and she has to quickly tear her eyes away from slender ankles, shapely and defined calves. Two spots of heat blossom in her cheeks, which of course he notices as he turns around. “Getting flustered at the flash of an ankle?” he purrs, even as he tentatively dips his big toe into the water. When there’s no sizzling of skin, he slips both feet into the river with a moan of delight (that definitely doesn’t make her stomach flip) and leans back much like she was. “Positively archaic of you.”

She rolls her eyes, her blush deepening at his words. The rock is large, but not large enough that there’s much space between them, the outside of their thighs nearly touching. “Hilarious. Why aren’t you in your trance?”

“Darling, this is only my second night in the great outdoors,” is the reply, sounding vaguely annoyed, but not necessarily at her. “I’m used to a proper mattress, not…whatever that thing is they try to tell me is a bedroll.”

“Well, we’ll have to adapt,” she replies.

“Adapt,” he says flatly, not even framing it as a question.

“Adapt,” she confirms. She continues to watch the water flow past as she adds, “vampires are supposed to be good at that, right?”

For a long moment, it’s dead silent. He stares at her in shock that not only does she know, she hasn’t tried to stake him. “...I won’t do you the disservice of pretending to be otherwise,” he finally says with a little amused huff.

Her lips curl again in a faint smile. “Appreciated.”

“How long have you known?”

She hums in thought, turning her eyes back to her toes, his own quite close now. “I had my suspicions from the first time I saw you, honestly,” she admits. “Elves don’t really have red eyes, unless they’re drow. I thought at first that maybe some ancestor of yours could have been Lolth-sworn…then I saw your teeth.” She chuckles, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on her thighs. “Even then, I was willing to chalk it up to natural discrepancies.” She pauses, remembering… “But then you caught my hand when I tripped over a root. That’s when I knew. Your skin was–or is, rather–so cold.” She huffs at herself, and finally looks at him. “Long story short, I’ve known from the first day.”

“But you…haven’t said anything?” he asks, confused. The look on his face, so thrown off guard, almost makes her laugh.

“Well…no. We all have our secrets, Astarion. You haven’t tried to kill one of us in our sleep…” She leaves the ‘yet’ hanging unspoken in the air. “...and as long as you continue to not do that, I have no problems with what you are.”

He stares at her again, trying to settle on some sort of reaction, something to say. “...well,” he finally says, tilting his head slightly as he considers her. “That’s very kind of you. A little too trusting, if I might say, but considering it’s towards myself I’ll let it slide.”

She snorts inelegantly. “Generous of you.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he says, smug. She can’t help but laugh, knowing he’s messing with her, and he chuckles right along with her.

She turns her head to look at him, and whatever she was about to say dies on her lips when their eyes meet. A spark of something shoots through her, settling behind her navel. They’re so close, less than a foot separating their faces. Even in the dark he can count the smattering of freckles across her cheeks, see the different glints of color swimming in her hazel eyes.

His own crimson orbs darken faintly. His lids lower halfway, his beautiful lips curling into a sly smile. Her breath hitches as his fingers brush over her jaw, lifting her chin…and she knows her body obeys, that he had to use no strength to move her where he wants her: the perfect angle for a kiss.

Her face heats, and when he starts to bend down to her, she all but throws herself off the rock. He freezes as she stares at him, now from a good ten feet away. “...darling, if you didn’t want a kiss, you could have simply said so,” he drawls, but his eyes are sharp on her. “That was a little dramatic.”

She swallows hard. “S-Sorry. I’m sorry, I…didn’t mean to react so strongly.”

He watches her, and the look on his face is so unreadable that it makes her nervous. “And why did you react so strongly? I know you find me attractive, my dear Sable. You blush if I so much as glance your way.”

“I…” Speaking of blushing… “Yes, I do. But…” She tries to gather her words to explain, before just blurting out, “You’re a kitten!”

For the first time in a long, long time, he finds himself speechless. “...I beg your pardon?” he finally replies, his voice a little more high pitched in his astonishment. “Did you really just call a two hundred year old vampire a kitten?!”

She very nearly flails her hands. “I–no, wait–that’s not what I–look, just listen, okay?!” She takes a deep breath, trying to pull that calm she always has around her back on. “I didn’t mean that you literally are a kitten. What I meant was…” Her lips purse as she finds the words. “...Back in Baldur’s Gate, I worked with my parents as a veterinarian, taking care of people’s pets. Mostly rich people’s. You don’t spend decades working with animals and not pick up some interesting facts.” Another pause, and she meets his eyes again. “Do you know why some animals are cute?”

“I haven’t the slightest,” he replies, and by his tone she would have thought he was bored…if it weren’t for the intense look in his eyes.

“It’s a defense mechanism,” she says firmly. “With most people, they see something adorable and helpless-looking, they’re much less likely to attack it and much more likely to try and nurture and take care of it. It’s a biological instinct, and unless a person has no sense of empathy at all, they’ll certainly feel it. You…you have something similar, but it’s less for defense and more for offense.” She’s quiet for a long moment, and he watches her eyes roam his form before settling back meeting his. “You are…the most breathtakingly beautiful man I’ve ever seen. But I’m biologically wired to think that, and your vampiric nature takes advantage of it. Your beauty lures people in. Were we not in the situation we’re in now…” She shrugs. “I’d be easy prey.”

Dead silence greets her ears. He’s staring at her as if considering a particularly interesting puzzle. She has to fight not to fidget.

Finally, he sighs, and his look is torn between amusement and ruefulness. He slips off the rock, grabbing his boots and socks with one hand before prowling up to her. He stares down into her eyes, before giving her a slow, sly smile and a playful pinch to her chin. “Perhaps not so easy, darling. You’re much smarter than I gave you credit for.” Then he leans in, his lips just barely brushing the shell of her ear, and his voice goes low, smooth, as sensual as the slide of silk over bare skin. “Besides, contrary to what your mind is thinking, your body knows…there are much more interesting things I’d like to use my mouth for than simply sucking your blood.”

He pulls away and shifts around her, before turning to walk backwards to give her a cheeky grin as if she were not currently losing her mind in a sudden arousal she’s not sure how to handle. “Or at least, in addition to. Sleep tight, darling,” he calls teasingly, before sauntering back to his tent.

But as he dries off his legs and sits down for his evening’s rest, his mind is filled with thoughts of just how surprising his new companion is…

…and how uncomfortable it is to be read so easily.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #my writing

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adhd-merlin · 3 days ago

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Hey I heard you wanna yap so I'm here to talk Arthuriana books ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I've got a whole spreadsheet but I've only recently started reading 21st century ones, including Bliss & Blunder which is currently my highest ranked out of the bunch but I know it's gonna be usurped by the one I'm currently reading - The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman. If you can handle long books (almost 700 pages) then you have to read it, it's so well written and goes into the more neglected knights like Bedivere and Palomides (and as with all modern stuff some of the knights get to be gay as a treat). I'm still only 1/4 of the way through but if it stays as good as it's been so far then oh boy. Anyways let me know what your favourite 21st Arthuriana is!

Yaaay yapping time <3

Ooh I can’t believe you’ve got a spreadsheet, haha. I’m fascinated by you spreadsheet people! (I’m not a spreadsheet kind of person, I’m a “I’ll write a random note on my phone that I’ll soon forget about… unless I remember” kind of person).

thank you for the rec!! Imma be honest I don’t think I can handle long books right now, because I’m struggling with concentration, but it sounds interesting! I’ll add it to my wish list in case I feel inspired to read it in future (I use the app Bookshelf to keep track of books read/to read, though there’s not much to keep track of these days lol. I like it because it’s super basic; I don’t even think you need to create an account? Can’t remember. But I can’t be bothered with Goodreads anymore.)

Anyways let me know what your favourite 21st Arthuriana is!

Bliss & Blunder is the only modern one I’ve read actually! I haven’t read many Arthuriana books? I’ve read about Arthuriana texts/adaptations more than I’ve read any actual texts lol. I like hearing about all the lore! But I love thinking/reading about adaptations in general, I think the process itself is so interesting? Like, what elements of a story one chooses to focus on or to discard; what makes a character… well, themselves. If you put Lancelot in the 21st century, what would he be like? How much can you change a story and still recognise it as the same? I find it fascinating to think about!* And obviously Arthurian texts have been inspiring so many people over the centuries across different media, so there’s a lot to explore in that sense.

I would like to read some of the “source” texts at some point, though they are a bit daunting. I gave Le Morte d'Arthur a try and abandoned it quite soon, but I’d like to dip my toes in it again, read some select chapters perhaps. I’d also like to read The Knight of the Cart because Lancelot is such an interesting character.

In terms of modern adaptations (as in, written in modern times), I would like to check out The Once and Future King (the Ill Made Knight in particular, don’t think I could read all the books)—I’ve read contrasting opinions on T.H. White’s work but it’s had a great influence on subsequent adaptations (I think?) that I want to see what all the fuss is about. And I love the whole love triangle drama. An affair so messy we’re still talking about it centuries later? I’m so here for it.

I’ve read a couple of random quotes from Steinbeck’s The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights that made me go “oh I should check this out!”, so that it also on my radar. (Have you read it? If so, what did you think of it?)

*I was in the Sherlock fandom for a while and that’s one of the things I enjoyed about it—all the different adaptations that existed about the same source material. And I don’t even care about Conan Doyle’s stories that much (lol sorry Arthur) so it really was mainly about the adaptations for me. I was studying Russian at uni at the time, so I checked out the “classic” Soviet Sherlock Holmes series, and also the Russian TV adaptation that came out in 2013. I greatly enjoyed the latter because of the way it played with and subverted elements of the original canon—it was great fun! Maybe my favourite Sherlock Holmes adaptation. But Vitaly Solomin's Watson ("Soviet" Watson) has a special place in my heart, he was so cute. Did you know there's a genderbent Holmes & Watson Russian adaptation? And they get to crossdress to get into a gentleman's club. Fascinating. I also think Jonny Lee Miller was great in Elementary, though I’m not a big fan of the procedural format. I did abandon that show after series… three, I think? but I still think he made an interesting Sherlock Holmes. His acting was probably wasted on that series to be honest!)

#asks #thanks for letting me yap <3

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kosmicdream · 5 months ago

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im confident enough to post FFAK, which has anal prolapse, but i dont post the true drama....... my opinions about manga. *dramatic music* sometimes i kinda want to do some reviews.. its mostly me complaining.. it makes me sound so bitter like "do you like anything kosmic!" and..yes ! i do!!! okay!! i like a lot of things. once in a while, i dip my toes into a popular series to try to see if we are a good fit. Series like: Beastars, Dorohedoro, Dungeon meshi,ect.. and i kind. well. I dont like any of them LMAO. I mean, Ok, i actually really was into Beastars for a time, but after the fight with the bear guy (its been a few years sorry) and that story arc concluded.. it just spiraled to laughable levels and did not recover. I was genuinely laughing at it at times bc it kind of felt like a desperate scramble with the like. loopholes and power upgrades.. But I was invested for a time, it had a charm to me! I also loved the art and im curious about the authors next series about santa (partly because i too, am writing a story about santa). Dorohedoro has a great visual style, fun characters, i enjoyed reading but it also kinda didnt ...land for me beyond that, which is a shame. I feel like it is a series that "should" have clicked with me. And its like, not offensive to me but.. I'll forget that ive read the whole thing. I like STUFF in it. but thats not enough for me anymore. If i had read it when i was younger tho, it might have been a diff story. idk. My most unpopular opinion of all is that... I hated Dungeon Meshi.. Sure its ..pretty! cute designs. but i found it SO painfully boring and it actually was a struggle to finish. in the end, it felt like a waste of time.. SHOCKING take i know. That is the darling of everyones heart and i like, understand WHY its popular. .. but for me, i was not fed by anything. i am unfed and starved and going to eat elsewhere oh, and i.. as a person who has read a lot of fighting mangas.. I have tried to read chainsaw man, but i dont know if I can. I did finish Fire Punch. I'm surprised to say: i kinda liked it but it took a long time to force myself to read thru it. I honestly hated many aspects of Fujimoto's storytelling/character acting that i didn't think my opinion on it would change, but I'm a little more open to it now. I dont think i could ever super be into it or whatever, but i did find genuine enjoyment in aspects of fire punch. I did not really like look back. I haven't read his other one shot(s)? Where am i going with all this..I guess im giving some unrequested reviews after all...oops... a lot of this is spurred by how houseki no kuni is one of my most fav series, not only visually/characters/story/ect.. but i cant lie.... the ending... was kind of a flop for me... gorgeous and poetic ig sure but.. AUGH! it isnt what i wanted. maybe it'll be one of those "it'll grow on me" endings but thats mostly me having to go thru the 5 stages of personal grief and gaslight myself into it, but as the like actual honest first-reaction feeling it kinda lost me. I think it did not work when i felt the confrontation btwn phos/cinnabar wasn't the one i wanted to see. i will say tho, while im dissapointed, its not like a DEEP one or anything. I know its a miracle to even get to an ending.. i guess my take away feeling from it was like "everything fit together too well, too planned" but didnt feel planned, emotionally. I wasn't sold on it. Anyway, im here to speak my truth and my hot takes which, i honestly dont even want to have that one about HnK but its the real feeling i have for it.. Once again Utena's ending just has made all these other issues i have with various stories more obvious LOL

#the series i hate MOST is one piece #those who know me in my life #know this truth about me #i loathe that thing!!!!!!#i am a hater and i dont wish to be changed #oda does good color spreads tho

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fabricated-misslieness · 2 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: neteyam x metkayina gn reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Even as a member of a clan of Ocean folk, on an island within a huge archipelago, you have found a special place in the forest. You decide Neteyam is worthy enough to know about it.

ᴀɴᴏɴ: i'd like to request a neteyam x reader where reader shows him some secret spot beautiful part of the ocean or the reef or the jungle and he's mesmerized and they have a soft moment <3

ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1592

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: this is cute

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Nete."

"Hm?"

When Neteyam turns, he finds your smile first. Then, he takes the rest of you in. You've got your hands behind your back and you're bouncing on the balls of your feet. It's cute, but... he raises a browbone, "What is it?"

"I've got something to show you." You declare excitedly.

"Something?"

"Well, a place."

"Hm," He thinks about it, "that sound suspicious."

"Trust me." You swing your hands forward, crossing them before swishing them away from each other, "It's something good. I'm not up to anything bad."

He's still not convinced. "Right."

"Come onnn!" You whine, bouncing more furiously on your feet. "It's really great, I promise."

"Okay." He replies, which brightens your grin that much more. "Let's go."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

He expected something within the sea, not within the jungle. Though he had been curious ever since he'd step foot on Awa'atlu, his father stated that it was important to focus on the sea and its way. He didn't mention the idea of the jungle at all, but he knew that his children had taken notice of it. It was implied in his speech that they mustn't explore the Jungle.

But something else implied was a not yet.

"You know, I don't think we're allowed here."

Neteyam followed close behind you. Though he was used to forests and jungles, he wasn't used to this one. It was beautiful still, and most importantly, different from the Hallelujah Mountains and the jungles below. Plus, a lot more humid.

"You'd be right about that." You chuckled. "But hey, what's the fun if you don't break any rules?"

Neteyam purses his lips and slows down, something you take notice of. You turn back to him, inquisitive look on your face. "Nete? Something wrong?"

Breaking the rules. It was getting close to curfew, his father had (though implied) prohibited him from entering the jungle, and who knows what the Metkayina thought about this place.

But what was the harm in it? He was just exploring. The shame builds in his shoulders, but he shakes if off. You were going to show him something. He'll be damned if he doesn't at least indulge you. "Nothing."

Your lips grow into a smile, and with the wave of your hand you beckon him forward.

There's a pond ahead, cutting through the trees. It doesn't have much of a shore at all, only small rocks about the size of Na'vi feet in order to cross.

You jump across the rocks quick and nimble, as if you'd done it a thousand times before. He doesn't doubt that you have. He follows along behind you, though the pond catches his eyes. It was extremely bioluminescent, glowing light purple at the edges and baby blue around the center. Water plants grew anywhere and everywhere, as reeds around the rim and big leafy pads with flowers around the middle. They added a nice green to compliment the other colors.

Distracted by the pond, Neteyam almost slips. Almost.

Before he can even dip so much as a toe in the water, you grab a hold of his wrist and successfully stop him from falling in. "Careful. This pond is poisonous."

"What?!" Neteyam exclaims, quick to move his foot onto the rock pathway.

"Looks harmless, right?" You chuckle at his reaction, turning forward again. "Don't fall in. I don't want your blood on my hands."

He huffs, "You underestimate me."

"Oh?" You begin, your tone condescending. "Says the one who almost fell in."

He hisses playfully.

Once you cross to the other side safely, you turn around. Neteyam's gaze follows you curiously.

He doesn't have the time, nor the reflexes fast enough to stop you as you dip your toe in the water. "What the fuck, (y/n)?" He shouts, "You just told me–"

"Ta-da!" You bring your foot out of the water and demonstrate it with pride. "I'm poisoned!"

Neteyam knew poison when he saw it (probably) and he knew this was not poison. Instead, your toe was covered with a mysterious dark green plant he couldn't name. "(y/n)..." He groans.

"Not poisonous, clearly." You snicker, bringing your foot in the air and flicking the plant off your toe. "Just mucky."

He rolls his eyes.

The glow of the surface did well to hide the mucky web of plants below. If he had fallen in, it'd be like getting mud all over him, and then you'd have to take a detour to the lake. That required time you didn't have.

"Let's just keep going."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

You had picked up light conversation as you headed to your promised place. He didn't know much about it, though he asked you plenty. You wanted to keep it a surprise. Him being in the dark meant he didn't know where it was, or where it began; but when he steps into the clearing, he knows this is the place.

He takes slow, cautious steps. His head turns this way and that way every time something new catches his eye and something new happens every second.

It is so beautiful.

Two more steps forward, and he stops entirely. It's just his head, his eyes, and they move constantly. He takes it all in.

It is amazing.

It is a menagerie of bioluminescence, natural glows, every color he could even name, all clashing yet all mixing wonderfully. When you take him by the hand to a log so that you may sit down, he hardly registers the movement.

Ahead of the log, ahead of you, is a small waterfall. The heart of the island held a set of multiple waterfalls, all leading into lakes, all leading into other waterfalls, until they reached the lake at the very bottom.

This place, this clearing, had its own waterfall. The heart of the island wouldn't be a very ideal place to hang out. The waterfalls were so very loud, and there were so very many of them.

Here, however, it is just far enough and just small enough that Neteyam can hear everything.

And everything mesmerizes him.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it."

You smile at that. It was a sight you had grown used to, yet a sight you loved. It was beautiful, the way each glow of a differing color shined on his face. It was beautiful, how his big eyes were blown even wider as he strived to see everything. It was beautiful, the smile trained on his lips.

"See, I don't know anything about the Omatikaya." He doesn't look at you, too entranced with everything else, but you can tell by the perk of his ear that he's listening. "And I'd like to learn about them, about you. But I do know... I do know that they–you lived in a forest. And I thought, well, maybe you would enjoy this."

"Enjoy is..." He lets out a breath that turns into a laugh, "an understatement."

"Yeah." You say, grin growing as wide as his. "I can see that now."

"The ocean is beautiful. The wildlife there, is wide and diverse. I don't see animals here, not often. I only see small things that run when they see me too. I see bugs that, in a second, escape my sight. The big things, the predators that the Olo'eyktan warns us about, I never see.

"We Metkayina, and possibly every animal around us, have adapted to the ocean. The sea, the water, the fish, the Tulkun, we have in abundance.

"So we often forget this is here."

"The plants are here." Neteyam points out the obvious, because it is what is at the forefront of his mind. He doesn't notice how dumb it may be.

"Yes," You chuckle, "the plants remembered. The plants, these ones, they stayed here. And they looked at this place, this little waterfall, and decided this is where they wanted to thrive."

"It's a beautiful place." He remarks.

A silence... then, "Maybe not as beautiful as you."

Neteyam turns to you, finally, for the first time he set foot here. Shock is written all over his face, but the compliment doesn't draw his features into a sour picture. "What?"

"Sorry, I–Well, I thought, you know..." You sputter for an excuse, but then realize you don't need one because fuck it. "Okay, you know what? You're beautiful."

"I–You, uh, th–um..." He, too, sputters for something to say. Anything at all. He only finds three words, only three little words that were suitable enough. "I see you."

Your brow bones raise, along with everything else on your face, with surprise. "In the midst of all of this?"

"Yes." He nods his head, scooting closer to you. Your knees touch. "I see you. Because this place is everything to me, a piece of my home in the Metkayina jungle, but you're the one who showed it to me, and you're the one I truly care about."

"A couple seconds ago," You begin, your exhale coming out a shocked laugh, "you wouldn't even look at me."

"(y/n)." His voice gives off the tiniest whine when you point it out.

"Okay, sorry." You shake your head with closed eyes. When you open them back up, his eyes are still trained on you, fully attentive. They're big and round and golden, unlike your blue ones, and they look perfect. "I see you."

In the midst of it all, where everything glowed, where everything was beautiful, where everything was colorful, where everything called for your attention, you saw each other.

He saw you, and you could only see him.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x gn reader #avatar x reader #avatar x gn reader #🎟 // avatar #💞 // darlings #🌸 // success!#🎫 // neteyam #🌂 // failure #🤬 // swearshirt

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trashexplorer · 9 months ago

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BLCD Review: Ikigami & Donor

Title: Ikigami to Donor (イキガミとドナー)

Author/Artist: Yamanaka Hiko

Shop: CD + Manga

Release Date: 2021/12/03

Cast:

Nakajima Yoshiki x Saitou Souma

Yamashita Seiichirou + Kawanishi Kengo

Kobayashi Chiaki

Yashiro Taku

Komada Wataru

Hayashi Miho

Shiozaki Tomohiro

Higa Ryosuke

Abe Ryouma

Torashima Takaaki

Oota Kensuke

Nakashima Takuya

Fujita Mami

Miyama Mari

Souya Kazuki

Synopsis:

"Your blood and flesh, all of it is mine." An ikigami and a healer, together their souls support each other, blooming into love...

In the distant future, ordinary teacher Yoshino learns that he is a "donor" for the strongest species, the "ikigami." These warriors are tasked with protecting the country. "The unique ability of a donor is to use their bodily fluids to heal ikigami." Yoshino learns this fact and is shocked. Thus, Yoshino is forced to live with Kidou... At first, he is like a beast, demanding Yoshino's bodily fluids, but slowly, the underlying loneliness begins to show...

"Someday, if I met a donor, could they come to love me? That thought is the only reason I survived..."

Review Proper

I can’t believe Yamanaka Hiko’s been terrorizing me for over twelve years now. OH MY GOD I’M SO OLD. And true to the Yamanaka Hiko brand, this turned out to be another fantasy masterpiece (read His 500 Years of Suffering Romance). This was definitely the type of thing that would do great even without the BL aspect of it. Now, I did have an issue with Kidou being an asshole (he's almost killed Yoshino more than once), so I’m not excusing it. But I do get how and why he turned out to be like that and I'm aware that it's important for his character development. The world-building was great, don't get me wrong, but it's definitely dubcon 2015. I would strongly advise you not to get into it if that's a deal breaker for you.

Anyway, onto the voice work.

Souma used a tone so close to Gucci's that I kept imagining Gucci being Yoshino. Yes, I didn't read the manga while listening to the BLCD. It was like after graduating Karasuno, Gucci went on to become a teacher, then a donor lmao. His Yoshino panics more like Honda-san, however, so my final verdict is that his Yoshino is half-Gucci, half-Honda-san.

This isn't Nakajiki and Souma's first rodeo, but I'm glad to say that their performance/dynamic here is different from Mikeneko and XL Size. I expected Kidou to be a mix of Amano and Anaconbayashi-kun 'cause the former was cocky and the latter was stoic, but Kidou was only 50% of that mix and 50% brooding, suffering, I'll-protect-you top. Am I even making any sense? Again, I listened to the BLCD first, but the sound direction they gave Nakajiki was very different from what I thought he'd sound like after I read the manga. It’s almost like what happened with OnoD’s expressive Hasebe-kun in the Kotonoha BLCD vs the more stoic Hasebe-kun in the manga.

The voice work of our two leads was 👌. This might just be my fave out of their pairings 'cause the sex isn't over-the-top like XL Size and Mikeneko. I will say that I wasn't completely sold on Yamashita Seiichirou as Shibata-san 'cause I feel like he speaks too slowly, but I'm sure it'll grow on me by the time I listen to their spin-off. KawaKen was fine. My heart broke for him every time Shibata-san rejected him, so it's safe to say he's got Taki-kun down already.

Oh. I did have a slight issue with the sfx too. Why was it so watery??? Lmao. Even r18 otome cds aren't that wet. But it's not so glaring that it'll turn you off.

The BLCD was almost perfectly accurate to the manga. I highly recommend this to those learning mid to higher levels of Japanese. Futekiya has licensed volumes 1 & 2, so please try to support the official release if you can. I'd be lying if I said that I agree with how they translated it so... literally?, but I think it's also important to see how things are translated that way if you're aiming to dip your toes into translation aside from studying the language. For example, they used "Living God" throughout the manga instead of "Ikigami." It's correctly translated, but I personally prefer retaining the original title. You know, like how Viz uses "Kaiju no. 8" instead of "Monster no. 8?"

God knows if I'll ever survive the spinoff that I wanted to work on. I avoided talking about it for a reason lmao. Anyway, if y'all liked this, then please give 500 Years (Ono Yuuki x Suzuki Tatsuhisa) and Shortcake no Ichigo Sawaranaide (Nojima Hirofumi x Takeuchi Ken). These two are android bls and Ikigami to Donor is more guide bl, but they both share a futuristic vibe.

#blcd reviews #blcd 2021 reviews #ikigami to donor #ginger records #yamanaka hiko #nakajima yoshiki #saitou souma #kobayashi chiaki #yashiro taku #komada wataru

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era-of-ages · 10 months ago

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Okay... so here's the thing... (short fanfiction post for Good Omens)

After watching the entirety of Good Omens for the first time ever in approximately two days, seeing countless posts about it, and while I'm not usually a fanfiction reader, actually skimming one of those too. I feel like I need to at least dip my toes into this a little bit. So here's my short(ish) take on after season 2.

///

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he possibly be so stupid? He was an angel, the smartest of them!" Crowley's words only fell on the uncaring mass of liquor bottles scattered around the floor. "Although," he refrained, "if he was so smart he wouldn't be an angel. Certainly not a supreme archangel."

That's mean, you know it is. A voice in his head told him. You know he's smart, you know he's brainwashed. You're just angry right now.

"Oh shut- SHUT UP!" He bit back. "I can be angry all I damn well want to I'm a demon for hell's sake! Maybe I've done the nice thing here or there, but I AM STILL A DEMON!"

We both know you've grown beyond that, Crowley. Far beyond it. The voice taunted him. It felt like taunting anyway. What kind of smug bastard did it think it was anyway? But he couldn't shut it up. Crowley, you can pose all you want. You've been doing it for 6000 years, after all. But you know better than anyone that being human comes with human emotion. Love. Anger. And knowledge that those emotions affect you. You know what knowledge can do, Crowley.

"And so what if I do?" He hissed. "You think I care? There's nothing to care about anymore. Azi- Azripha-" he couldn't speak it. Not without those damned tears. Who invented those anyhow? Oh right, God. The same bastard who caused all this. "He's gone." He finally managed to say. "It's too late. Always has been."

I'll tell you what you're missing. The voice in his head had taken to sounding like Nina. You're so full of that human spirit, that emotion. So where's that human hope, huh? If there's one thing Aziraphale did have, it was hope! So where's yours?"

"It went with him."

///

Muriel's steps were awkward and heavy, even still. Everything having weight here on Earth was so confusing! No one had actually ever told her how Earth works when she came, but all the books were still on the shelves, so she figured that she must be doing well. It was quiet in the book shop as well, and she started to think. Everyone had always said she hadn't done much of it before, so what better time to learn? She started to think of the shop as her friend, like it was alive. It liked her well enough, but it missed Aziraphale. It would perk up when Crowley passed by, which he did every single day, but he never came inside. Never even looked anymore. She always thought about calling out to him, asking him how to make tea or how to pronounce some of the words she had read, but she hadn't done it. Not yet anyway. She hoped one day she would.

The bell was a new sound. Muriel remembered it meant that someone had come into the shop. She said a few stalling words as she ran down the stairs, still careful to balance her feet correctly so she didn't trip again. "I'm sorry for the wait!" she said, smiling to herself about the correct use of phrase. "How can I help... you?"

"I just... just came to see it again."

Aziraphale looked terrible. Nothing like a supreme archangel. He didn't glow, she was fairly certain he used to. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, which meant he hadn't slept. But if he didn't need to, why did he have the circles? And he was smiling at her, except it wasn't really a smile. What was that phrase she had liked? Right! He wasn't smiling with his eyes. His eyes were sad.

"The shop's missed you." She said, coming to stand beside him. "Would you like some tea?"

He turned to her. He looked... defeated, somehow. "I think I would like that."

"Great!" Muriel clapped her hands. "Except... oh I don't mean to sound silly, but I don't know how to make it."

"Oh that's alright then," Aziraphale said. "I'm alright without it."

"No no!" She held up a hand, careful not to touch him. "Wait, I can figure it out! I can read things now! And understand them! Just uh... wait right here!"

She hurried off to what she knew for sure were tea implements. They had kettles and things like that in the books she'd read. Oh it was so exciting! She was going to be just like those book people! Making tea! She giggled as she set a teabag ever so carefully into a cup, then slowly poured water inside. The water started to change color! It was beautiful! She wondered why every angel didn't come to Earth, it was so full of amazing things!

"I've got it!" she announced proudly. "I made tea!" Carefully, she handed it to the supreme archangel, smiling like a child as he held it. As he took it, his hands began to shake. His eyes became sad again.

Oh no! Muriel thought. I didn't make it right! He doesn't like it! She thought backwards through the steps of making tea. What tea should look like. A cup with colored water inside with a thin trail of steam!

"Oh! It's not hot!" She said. "Not hot at all! I'm so sorry!"

"Oh no! Oh no don't be sorry!" The saucer in his hand was shaking more now. "I'll just-" with a quick snap down the tea began to steam. "Here we go! It's alright. Would you mind if I just, walked around a bit?"

"Of course!" She smiled, though she still watched his hand. "It would be my honor."

///

It should have been raining. It was too nice of a day. Crowley snapped his fingers and began to feel the first drops of cold water coming down on him. By the time he reached Greek Street it was a downpour. He could feel Nina watching him as he walked past her shop. He didn't say hello. He hadn't ever and he wasn't going to start now.

He looked at the bookshop, not inside, but at it. He could sense that bumbling angel inside. He couldn't help but wonder how she was taking to Earth. She seemed the type to be too dim to be brainwashed by anyone. He resolved to go inside. Not to see her, but to take some of his things back that he had left. No doubt that plant was long past dead at this point.

///

The bell rang again! Muriel rushed to the front. Two people to come in on the same day! It was all so exciting! Even the bookshop was excited! It was the happiest it had been in months. "Welcome, welcome!" Muriel froze in her tracks as she saw who had entered. She broke into a grin, "Mr. Crowley!"

She had seen this before, in those wonderful books! Two people who are madly in love run away from each other, then they see each other again, realize they love each other even more and never should have run, and then they kiss! She could barely hold her excitement, but she kept quiet. She couldn't ruin this moment! They had to find each other.

"How's business been?" Crowley asked. "Doesn't look like you've sold anything."

"I haven't!" Muriel answered excitedly. "Not a thing! But I learned how to make tea!"

"Did you now?" He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "Why are you so excited?"

"Oh curse me for lying, but I'm just so excited someone has come into the shop!" She giggled, bouncing around on her feet.

"Curse you for lying?" Crowley frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I lied about why I'm so excited! But it's not going to be like the books if I just told you why!"

Crowley rubbed his temples. He didn't have time for this. Well, he did, but the more time he spent in this shop the less angry he became. He wanted to be angry. And the voice seemed to shut up when he was in here. "Look, I just came to get some of my things, alright? I'm not here to have a conversation or anything." He started for the stairs. No! Aziraphale was up there!

"Wait wait wait!" She grabbed his arm. "You need to have a conversation! It's the only way to-"

"Only way to what?!" He meant it as a threat. It came out as desperation. Muriel could see his eyes now. They were sad too.

"The only way," she said slowly. "The only way it's going to be okay." Something hurt inside of her. Knowing the Aziraphale was hurt, that Crowley was hurt. It hurt her too. Water started to come from her eyes. Something in her felt like it was burning. "What's happening to me?" she asked.

"Those are tears." Crowley's voice was cracking. "You get used to them after a while. They happen when you're sad." He looked at her. "Why are you sad?" What did she have to be sad for?

"I'm. I'm sad because the bookshop is sad," she stammered. "Because the happy ending hasn't happened yet. It was supposed to. He wasn't supposed to go to heaven and make you sad. That's not a happy story. And I... I don't understand why not."

///

Aziraphale let his hand drag across the shelves. Every second fight back the thought he had been thinking since he left. This bookshop was heaven. No, better than heaven. Those were wrong thoughts, he knew. But they had become so strong that he couldn't bear to stop them anymore. He missed his shop. He missed Earth. He missed... to even think of his name was already enough. He closed his eyes. You are the Supreme Archangel. You WILL NOT think wrong thoughts.

A sound from downstairs. Crying. Muriel's crying.

///

"Not all stories have happy endings." Crowley said. "Sometimes you just have to realize that and..." he couldn't say move on.

"But would you take him? If he came back?" Muriel wiped away her own tears. "Would you make it a happy ending?"

"I can't. I'd give anything to, but I can't." He looked down. "I tried. My way didn't work. I couldn't save him from heaven. They still took him away."

Hurried footsteps down the stairs. Her head snapped up. "What if I tried?"

"What?" Crowley tried to look up but she was gone.

///

"Muriel are you alri-" Aziraphale started to say.

"Hush!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him with all her might to Crowley. She was beaming. Rain! They needed rain! It was raining outside! She had them both by the hand now, by some sort of miracle the doors were already open. She threw them outside. It was a downpour! It was perfect! She couldn't hold her excitement anymore. She'd been dying to use this word. Not one in any of her books, but one the shop had said a million times.

"VAVOOM!!!"

///

Neither of them spoke. The difference between rain and tears didn't matter now. It was just them now. Looking into each other's eyes. They didn't need to speak.

"W-would the dance be acceptable here?" Aziraphale stammered.

"Oh Angel, shut up!"

Like puzzle pieces, the two of them fit perfectly together in each other's arms. Muriel squealed and bounced happily back and forth. She looked at Nina and Maggie across the street. They were clapping.

"About damn time!" Maggie shouted.

"It's not a happy ending until you kiss!" Muriel exclaimed.

You would have never heard it or seen it, but the nightingales were thrilled. They had been dying to sing.

#crowly x aziraphale #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #fanfic #muriel #happy ending #asdfghjhgfdsdfgh #i love them so much #okay im done now

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