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hollowdeath · 3 months

Note

Thank god, another Harry Potter lover! 👓⚡️He really deserves more love! ❤️ That’s why I imagine him and the reader settling in a cottage by the sea or lake (you decide) to heal from the Wizarding War. They find comfort and solace in each other, and yes that includes countless lovemaking. 🥰 It’s just the two of them, so they’re free to express their love whenever and wherever they want. They especially enjoy making love on the shore under the stars after a swim, by the fireplace on a soft blanket, and in the bathtub surrounded by candles. They just need to feel and hold each other to remind themselves that everything’s okay now. You can do whatever you want with this, I just wanted to put it out there. Take care!

thank you so much for this request, i fell in love with it as soon as you sent it! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you & harry have moved away from everything & everyone to a remote cottage where the forest meets the sea. all harry wants after everything he's been through is to find peace, & he finds it in you.

c/w: smut!!! oral sex, penetration, rough sex

word count: 7.3k

harry was up early. he was watching the kettle boil on the gas stove in front of him, enjoying the warmth coming off of it, letting himself relax for just a moment. the steam from the water enveloped his face and felt nice. it was so chilly this morning. the windows were fogged over from the fire raving inside the stove, the wind whistling through the walls of the cottage.

the cottage was beautiful, harry couldn't deny it, though he could do with a bit more insulation. the raw, exposed stone walls were charming, and the moss and vines growing on the outside were something out of a fairy tale, but the fire needed to be fed every hour or so most of the day for at least half of the year or else it dropped below freezing inside. however, luckily, harry came to find wood chopping and trimming to be extremely therapeutic. just him, a sharp ax, and acres of woodlands to explore.

that was another thing harry could never deny about this property: the land was worth every penny. it's not often you find such a stunning cottage sitting on the border between a local forest and, what was essentially, a private beach on the north sea. the beach stretched at least a mile, but was obscured by the trees just behind the cottage. the land wasn't cheap, but harry was ready and extremely eager to spend whatever it took to finally get away from everything, live a simple life, and be alone.

alone with you, that is.

you and harry had gone to school together until the war, but eventually ended up reconnecting and began casually dating just over 2 years ago. since then you and harry had found complete solace in each other, both suffering from the negative side effects of witnessing and experiencing the war firsthand and supporting each other through difficult times. you were mostly struggling with paranoia and anxiety, and were actually the first to suggest getting a place together away from everyone else. you thought it would help if you were out of reach, isolated from the world, practically invisible from all danger.

harry, of course, was utterly haunted by the events of the war, and everything leading up to it. he gets angry at the world, has bouts of depression, deals with monumental grief and guilt, and has chronic, clinical sleep issues caused by nightmares. which is, ironically, the exact reason he's awake so early right now.

as he's pouring the boiling water out of the kettle and over a tea bag, harry can feel his eyelids fighting to stay open. he's barely slept this week, and he's starting to feel the effects of it. he's lightheaded, detached, and just wants to rest.

as he's walking to the front porch, mug in hand, harry takes a moment to pause in the doorway of your master bedroom and admire you. sleeping, surrounded by white cotton comforters, drowning in pillows, your hair wildly framing your peaceful face. he just stays there for a while, leaning against the doorframe, watching. he often watches you sleep when he can't himself. it brings him relief knowing you can get the rest you need.

before he heads outside harry slips on his favorite quarter zip. as he's sitting on the stairs outside, he admires the sound of the waves crashing just a few hundred or so yards away from him. he finishes his hot cup of tea, closes his eyes and lets himself sit in the cold waves of the wind. it's nice. like sleeping without the nightmares.

the moment is short lived as he hears the door creak open behind him. he looks back, and is in disbelief at how beautiful you look just waking up. a nightdress that barely covers anything at all draping around your shoulders, messy bed hair, sleepy eyes and a smile as you stand with the door cracked open, admiring harry in return.

"morning," you say simply, your voice still soft and hoarse from sleeping. harry smiles at you with soft and loving eyes. you walk towards him and let the door close behind you as you cuddle up next to harry on the stairs.

you don't seem to mind the chill in the air. your exposed skin is still hot from the fire burning inside. you lean your head on harry's shoulder, reaching for his mug, seeing there's nothing left, and leaving the mug in his hands. harry's chest hums as he chuckles. "would you like some? kettle's still warm," he asks.

you shake your head. you want to stay right here with harry in this moment.

the sea is so beautiful at this time of the morning. the sun was up, but only just barely above the horizon. no clouds, no birds, just the waves and the wind carrying their breeze.

speaking of breeze, you begin to shiver the longer you're out there in only a sleep dress. you still want to stay with harry, enjoying the view with him, but he notices you shaking.

"darling, let's get you inside,"

harry sits you in front of the stove and opens the small latch, letting the door stay open as you attempt to warm your hands. harry feeds the fire and rearranges the coals to make it burn hotter for you. after a minute or so, he also slips off his quarter zip and pulls it over your torso, smiling to himself at just how big it looks on you.

you find yourself finally starting to warm up, your toes burying themselves into the fur rug you're sitting on. after harry pours you a cup of tea, he joins you next to the fire. "thank you," you tell him with a smile, eagerly taking a sip of the warm drink.

harry's arm wraps around you and he watches the fire as you continue to sip your tea, enjoying the feeling of it warming you up from the inside.

you relish this moment with harry. since moving here barely a month ago, you've grown so fond of these smaller moments throughout the day with him. watching the scenery, watching the fire, sitting in comfortable silence, sharing a kettle of tea in the morning and afternoon, simply enjoying each other's company and the peace you've created for yourselves. it was one of your favorite parts about settling into this little slice of life.

and, of course, there was all the alone time.

while living with harry at grimmauld place was lovely, there was never truly a moment alone with him there. you had your own room with locked doors, but could hear someone walking, talking, cooking, always something in the background.

here, you were completely alone. a lot of people might find this situation to be even more terrifying, being so far away from everything, but you both agreed the isolation made you feel safer. safe from death eaters, safe from drama, safe from other people.

the safety from being so alone out here also meant that you and harry could be vulnerable with each other 24/7. you never had to put on a face or pretend things were okay if they weren't. if harry had nightmares, he could make some tea and enjoy a moment outside alone without anyone trying to psychoanalyze him. if you wanted to lay in bed until it was dark out again, harry wasn't going to judge you for it.

that vulnerability spread into other parts of your life as well.

you set your mug down next to the fire and turned towards harry who's already watching you as you admire his blue eyes, bloodshot from barely sleeping last night, or the night before. you take his face in your hands and just hold him for a moment, feeling him lean into your touch as his eyes flutter close. "i love you, harry," you say just above a whisper, breaking the comfortable silence.

harry looks up at you, but his eyes are now full of lust. you barely have a moment to process what's going on before harry leans in for a gentle, wanting kiss.

harry's always so soft with you despite his clearly strong desire. you've never been with someone who wanted you so bad no matter how many times you've been with them. everything with harry was like the first time all over again; the same desperation and desire to please that just never left.

the kiss quickly gets heated as harry pulls his quarter zip off of you, making you both giggle at the fact that he just put it on you only a few minutes prior. your lips reconnect in a haste, not wanting even a single second away from each other.

harry lays you down on the rug beneath you as his hands make their way to your exposed legs, feeling the heat from the fire on your thighs. his shirt quickly comes off as well from you tugging at it. a moan escapes your lips just watching his body as he pulls the shirt over his head.

harry's suffered from many injuries in these last few years that have left him littered in scars. and while you obviously hate to think about harry in pain, something about his scars drove you crazy with lust. a brave boy who faced death and came back, now healing far away from the cruel world with you as his lover. it was just another reminder that you were safe, that he was finally safe.

harry smiles as he goes in to kiss you again, his hands going right back to your thighs as he pushes your nightdress above your panties. you're holding his face lovingly but harry pulls away from the kiss to look at you. he watches your expression intently as he starts sliding his fingers over your panties, earning a sigh of relief from you. harry's eyes grow darker the longer he teases you. he sits up to use his other hand to hold down your bucking hips, causing you to whine in frustration.

"patience," harry commands from you in a stern voice. you look up at him, jaw lax, breathing uneven, and simply give him a nod.

you love this side of harry. of course you fell in love with the soft, gentle, careful parts of him first, but over time you saw more and more of his angry, controlling, dominant side during sex that you were completely weak for.

living at hogwarts and then grimmauld place right after, most of your intimate moments with harry were kept quiet to avoid being heard. soft whispering, quiet moans, slow movements, and breathless orgasms under a heavy blanket with the lights dimmed. once you moved here, away from everything and everyone, things were different.

of course, you were both still a bit quiet and shy at first, not used to having a place all to your own where no one can hear you for miles. but, slowly, you and harry learned to break old habits and started experimenting together. a lot.

it seemed like neither of you could ever get enough of each other since coming here. you'd always been really attracted to each other, maybe more than the average couple, but something about being alone together in this corner of the world where the forest meets the ocean made you feel so connected, so in tune, and completely and utterly obsessed with each other.

it started with long, drawn-out, foreplay-heavy love making in your new bed to "break it in", sometimes spending hours each day just entangled together on top of the sheets, admiring the other's body and exploring every part. then it would slowly move over to the bath, naturally, after spending so much time sweating together in bed. after a while the sessions would get shorter as you would both be completely exhausted afterwards. instead, they increased in frequency.

either you or harry would find little opportunities to sneak in a quick fuck throughout the day between chores, or would give the other person head as they made dinner in the kitchen. it was thrilling. neither of you had ever been sexual outside of the bedroom/bathroom before, but you found it completely erotic.

you had yet to have sex in front of the fire, oddly enough, but you had thought about it quite a few times before. the warmth of the stove, the soft rug beneath you, the light on harry's skin, the sweat dripping off of him…

"[y/n]," harry said, snapping you out of your daze. "are you even listening to me?" he asks with a smirk.

you blush immediately, so lost in your thoughts about the sex you were just about to have that you couldn't even focus on what was currently happening…

"s-sorry…" you mumble. "you just drive me crazy," you admit shyly.

harry's hand pushes further into your hips, a groan crawling out of his throat as he glares at you. "don't make me cum already, darling," he growls, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest.

you whimper under his pressure, your back arching as your body attempts to find some kind of release from the growing tension inside of you.

"so fucking desperate already," harry says, clearly enjoying watching you struggle under his control. "if i could resist you even a little bit i would sit here and watch you struggle all day," he tells you as he leans into your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. you wince and squeal, your heart racing from the pain.

harry smirks at your reaction. he sits up and releases the pressure on your hips, causing them to buck upwards instinctively. a pathetic "please," is all you're able to muster as you attempt to catch your breath.

normally harry wants to hear you do a lot more begging than that, but he's just as desperate as you are at this point and he can't resist you much longer.

harry props your legs up for him after helping you take off your panties, throwing them to the side as he lays between your thighs. you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at harry who's hungrily looking between your eyes and your pussy. your breathing is rapid and shallow as your heart continues to thump in your chest. even after all these years and all the times you've seen harry between your legs you just never get used to the sight. he still gives you butterflies like a nervous girl with a crush.

your head rolls in pleasure as harry starts kissing your thighs; even in both of your desperate states, even when he's at his most dominant, he's still the gentle, loving harry you're so in love with.

harry's hands find your own and intertwine your fingers together as his tongue begins exploring your pussy. you can feel yourself getting even more wet as harry's mouth attaches itself to you, enjoying how you taste. moaning, whining, hips bucking onto harry's tongue, you start to feel yourself sweat from both the fire and harry's intense gaze up at you.

"f-fuck," you cry, your thighs instinctively squeezing around harry's head. he can't help but moan as he sucks on your clit, practically letting you ride his face.

you reach for your silky nightdress and lift it above your chest, exposing your nipples to the warmth of the fire as you continue watching harry make your legs tremble.

harry's eyes droop in pleasure. one of his hands grabs for your tits and the other applies the same pressure to your hips as before. you let out your first real moan above a whimper, your hips still trying to grind against harry's mouth as he continues pushing you further into the rug.

his tongue's now inside of you, teasing you as you clench around him, your thighs still quivering.

"harry, harry, please," you say breathlessly, begging for more. harry ignores you, instead only going slower to drive you mad. you groan in frustration. he looks back up at you for only a second, but you can see the smirk in his eyes.

his hand lets go of your tits before making its way to your thighs, pushing them away from his head as harry takes a moment to breathe. you're blushing, completely flustered, eyes half-open. "sorry," you apologize.

"don't be. give me more." harry demands.

his hand pushes further into your pelvis, his elbow holding down your thigh as you wince at the pressure.

harry's mouth returns to your clit as his fingers feel how wet you are for him. your body jolts at the sensation, but harry just holds you down tighter. starting with one finger, harry pushes inside you slowly as you writhe under his grasp. your hands get tangled in his hair again, desperately pulling his face further into your pussy.

harry just chuckles, looking up at you as he slowly pushes another finger inside you. you gasp, your grip in his hair tightening as your other hand plays with your tits. just the look in harry's eyes watching you chase your high is enough to bring you close to the edge.

harry's fingers were pumping in and out of your pussy, his lips and tongue still teasing your clit. your thighs threatened to close again, but harry kept them spread open for himself. "enough," he states, planting his elbows into your thighs and his hand against your pelvis. he glares up at you as he repositions himself. "stay."

you can feel your body react to the aggression in his voice. this is the hungriest, and hottest, side of harry you've ever seen. you're already brought back to the brink of orgasm as soon as you can see harry's fingers pumping inside you again, his wrist and forearm veins pronounced against the light of the fire as he picks up his speed.

the moans coming out of your mouth are filthy and involuntary, your mind going blank at the sudden rush of pleasure through your body. once harry's tongue begins circling your clit again, you don't have a chance at lasting much longer.

"i-i, harry, stop, i'm–" is all you're able to get out before your legs begin shaking, your head thrown back, crying out in overwhelming pleasure. it feels so good not having to hold back your moans anymore.

harry's lips detach from you, swollen, covered in your wetness. his fingers continue thrusting into you, gently now as you ride out your high. he slowly removes them after a moment, his hand and elbows relieving the pressure that kept you pinned to the ground.

you're still whining, your legs aching from struggling against harry's weight. they feel impossibly heavy as you try to bend your knees up. harry just watches you, enjoying the aftermath of his work.

you're still seeing stars by the time harry's pants have come off, his cock barely peeking through the front of his boxers. he starts rubbing himself through the fabric, his breathing becoming labored as you watched him in a daze.

you look up at him innocently through your eyelashes, your mouth slightly ajar as you lean your weight to one elbow, using the other hand to take his place. he lets you take over, slowly stroking his erection through his boxers, enjoying his gaze down at you from above. his hand goes to your cheek, softly tracing the curve of your smile.

his fingers delicately open your lips before roughly shoving them into your mouth. you make a surprised noise, but quickly begin sucking and licking his fingers. he pulls his boxers down with the other hand, and uses your spit to lube himself up. you lick your own fingers and do the same, helping guide his cock into you with a groan of both pleasure and discomfort.

harry gradually thrusts into you, letting you adjust to him, taking his time with you. he watches your aching pussy welcome his cock eagerly, your legs already starting to tremble from the pressure building inside you again. "oh, fuck," harry's voice cracks, his hands gripping your thighs as they continue to involuntarily shake.

a hand flies to your mouth, barely able to contain yourself already. seeing harry's face of relief as his cock slides all the way inside you only makes you clench around him tighter. he lets out a struggled breath, his grip on your thighs only tightening as he spread them open for himself again.

harry's eyes are closed in bliss, his thrusts slow but deep, forcing a whine from your throat each time he's completely inside you. he's starting to sweat, his hair hanging loosely around his forehead, arms flexed to keep his grip on you, his body leaning down into yours as he starts picking up his pace.

harry looks down at you. one of his hands grabs the hand covering your mouth. "let me hear you, angel," he speaks gently but his voice is hungry, immediately earning a soft moan from your lips. he smiles, leaning down to kiss you sloppily.

harry takes this time to really pick up his speed, adjusting his position to roughly thrust himself into your throbbing pussy. his hands grab for the back of your knees, forcing your legs to bend back as he only pushes himself into you more.

"oh my god," you gasp into harry's kiss, your hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself. harry's forehead rests against yours, looking down, glasses fogged up from the heavy breathing and heat from the fire. he's watching himself from your angle, slowing down his thrusting to a torturous pace. you both groan at the feeling and sight of harry pushing his cock completely inside you and slowly pulling back out before thrusting into you again.

"fuck, baby, you take my cock so well, feel so fucking good," harry says breathlessly into your ear. your nails dig into his shoulders as you try not to cum again already just from harry's voice. you're both sweating, faces pressed together, the fire slightly dying beside you but still creating a warm glow.

"y-you're, mmph, i'm so close, again," you cry, letting yourself rest back on the soft rug. you feel so at peace despite the growing tension in your stomach – watching harry prop himself up with one hand on the ground beside you and the other still holding your leg back, his chest heaving as he continues thrusting inside you with a growing pace.

harry looks at your twisted expression, eyes glossed over and cheeks flushed, your tits bouncing as he roughly uses your body for his pleasure.

"yeah?" harry looks at you, his grip on your leg tightening as he fucks you roughy into the rug. "fucking cum for me," he commands from you.

you barely need his permission before you're already over the edge, legs uncontrollably shaking, eyes rolling back, incoherent words getting lost in your broken moans and cries of pain.

it's all harry needs before he feels himself release inside you, still thrusting into you slowly as his cum spills out of your pussy.

your body is shaking from the sensation, your legs still vibrating as you clench around harry's cock. he struggled to finally pull out of you.

still trying to catch his breath, harry lovingly rubs your thighs as he watches your swollen pussy ache for the feeling of his cock again.

"so fucking beautiful, my love," harry sighs, relaxing his body on top of yours, his head in your neck. "my beautiful, beautiful girl," he repeats, covering you in kisses as he showers you with compliments.

you just giggle at him, exhausted, trying to come back down to earth.

"i can't…move," you mumble between breaths, your eyes drooping closed as your feet touch back down on the rug. you feel even more weak than before.

harry hums, kissing your forehead. "it's okay, i've got you, darling," he says with a warm smile.

he stands up, slowly, but isn't in as much pain as he expected. his knees are sore for sure, but otherwise, he couldn't feel better.

he leans down to help you sit up, guiding your body into his arms as he picks you up bridal style, your head resting in his chest. you giggle again but you're too weak to reject the gesture. he carefully carries you to the bathroom just down the hall from the living room.

harry runs you both a warm bath as you watch from the counter. he's still naked, as are you, but it's not awkward or sexual – it's just natural.

he shuts the water off and reaches for you once again. "i'm okay now," you insist, standing from the counter and steadying yourself with his hands. he still helps you walk to the tub before helping you climb inside. the water's extremely hot, but it feels so nice on your sweaty, aching skin.

"i'll be right back, gotta feed the fire, just wait for me, yeah?" harry says before he dips out of the bathroom.

looking around you as you warm the rest of your body with the water, you notice the candles sitting around the tub from the last time you both took a bath together. just the flash of the memory through your brain is enough to make your stomach twist into knots again. harry had you bent over the side of the tub as water splashed everywhere, the feeling of freedom and carelessness intoxicating you both as you cared about nothing but each other's highs.

with a flick of your wet hand, you light all the candles again, and the room is lit with a warm glow. it's not often you use magic anymore, harry prefers to do things manually now that you're both caring for a piece of land, but the convenience of certain spells are too useful to forget completely.

walking back in, harry smirks at all the candles being lit. he admires you for a moment, naked, sweaty, half submerged in the huge clawfoot bathtub surrounded by the glow of the candles. "trying to insinuate something, love?" harry asks, closing the bathroom door behind him.

you blush, curling your knees into your chest. "just thought it'd be nice to have some light," you say softly.

harry grabs you both towels and sets them next to the tub before climbing in himself. he positions himself behind you, holding your body as he guides you to relax into his chest. once you laid your head back, you and harry sat in comfortable, warm silence for a long while.

it takes a few minutes before harry's hands begin rubbing at your stomach, slowly, making ripples throughout the water as you lower your knees, letting harry comfort you. he's humming softly, your head rumbling in his chest. he rests his head next to your own and watches his hands from your perspective.

his rubbing gets further and further down your stomach, running his hands along your waist and hips before finally grabbing at your inner thighs roughly. you let out a pathetic whimper, watching his hands from above the water.

"is it bad that i already need you again?" harry chuckles, half joking but half already turned on. you shake your head quickly, your hips thrusting up for relief, moaning at his words. "no, need you, please," you respond desperately, looking over at him.

harry's eyes are darker once more, watching as his hands gradually move to your sensitive pussy. you groan in response, but harry quickly kisses you to cover it. "i know, baby, just let me take care of it," he says into your lips.

slowly circling your clit with soft fingers, harry watches as your eyes droop more and more from the building pleasure. eventually his fingers are back inside of you, gently pumping in and out. his head turns back to your body as he watches you react to him. his other hand goes for your tits, grabbing one roughly from just above the surface of the water.

while it feels good being teased you're insanely desperate for harry once again. your hand reaches behind you, feeling harry's growing erection against your back. harry's grip on you tightens as your hand starts stroking his cock slowly under the water.

"fucking dirty girl," he groans under his breath, taking his fingers out of your pussy to continue rubbing your clit. you cry out at the loss of feeling, your hand squeezing around harry as he just enjoys the feeling.

soon, harry's moved your hips to align with his, your arms holding your body up on either side of the tub as you slowly insert harry back inside your pussy once again. the familiar feeling is only enhanced by being underwater, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease as you adjust to the feeling.

"oh my god," you sigh, your stomach already tightening, thighs still a bit shaky. harry's guiding your hips expertly, groaning in pleasure watching your ass dip in and out of the water onto his lap. his head is resting against the edge of the tub, mind blank, solely focused on your pleasure and his.

"fuck, harry," you whimper again, rolling your hips around on his cock before thrusting it inside you again. harry wishes you could see just how sexy you look from this angle, your hair flowing down your back, your skin glistening in the candlelight, the water droplets running down your hips, it's enough to make him resist the urge to finish already.

"you're so perfect," harry groans. he smacks your ass, slapping the water with it, causing you to squeal and quicken your pace. the same filthy moans are still spilling from your mouth, hardly able to contain yourself in this situation. something about using the time meant to help each other clean up to only continue fucking makes you feel so dirty, so used, and it's driving you crazy.

harry suddenly stops you, much to your disappointment, and tells you to trust him. "just get out and stand up," he says.

you do as he says, and eventually harry has you bent over the bathroom counter, barely lit by the candles behind you. he slowly returns his cock inside of you, your bodies dripping water everywhere.

as harry's thrusts become more consistent, one hand grabs for your shoulder and the other for your damp hair. he forces your face to look in the mirror, your eyes barely open from the pleasure. "watch," he commands. your eyes shot open at his voice, tracing the shape of your shadows in the mirror in front of your face.

harry loses himself in you, his head rolling back in pleasure hearing you struggle to take his cock for a second time. you're trying to moan, say anything at all, but your voice is incomprehensible as harry only becomes rougher with you.

"god damn it, [y/n]," harry spits out, his voice clearly exhausted. his hands travel back to your tits, pulling you back up into him as he continues pounding into you from behind. you're a mess in his hands as they roughly grope your tits.

"look at you," harry growls into your neck, looking into the mirror just in front of you as his gaze meets yours. "so fucking sexy,"

your hands desperately grip the edge of the counter for balance, your legs getting more and more weak by the second. harry pushes you further over the counter, his moans becoming urgent.

"i'm gonna fill you up because you're fucking mine, yeah? look at this perfect body of yours," harry's voice strains, his sweaty chest against your back as he forces you to continue watching yourself get pounded in the mirror, one arm over your chest and the other holding your hips. the light of the candles is just enough to let you see harry's dark expression. "fucking perfect, just for me,"

you haven't been able to get a single word out, your mind spinning as harry only gets more and more desperate, his pace getting sloppy.

"fuck, baby, just be good for me and let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hm? let me show you what's mine,"

you're already starting to cum just from harry's words. the overwhelming pleasure racks your body harshly as harry continues to use you for himself. shaking, barely able to stand without his help, your voice is breaking as you cry out in ecstasy for the third time just this morning.

harry's barely able to last much longer. his thrusts have slowed to uneven, jerky motion as he feels his cum spilling deep inside you. breathy moans and aching bodies, harry rests against you with your body limp against the counter. he lifts his head from your neck to kiss your skin softly, everywhere, slowly helping guide you back to the tub for a second time. your legs are weaker than before and you're barely able to contribute as harry leans you into the water, still kissing your damp skin.

"i love you, i love you," he's mumbling between kisses.

you're too weak and dizzy to respond in any way, still trying to catch your breath as harry begins cleaning your skin. he rubs a soft rag along your chest, neck, back, shoulders, and arms. the whole time he's complimenting you lovingly, a gentle touch and warm gaze upon your tired face.

after washing himself, harry also dries you off, carrying you back to bed before getting you both dressed in comfortable, warm pajamas. "just rest for today, my love," he told you as he laid you down. you reach for his hands. "stay?"

harry smiles. you didn't have to ask, it was literally his bed too, but he admires how soft and innocent you are in this moment. though he loves to be rough with you like he just was, there's nothing more special in the world to him than the gentleness between you two. his whole life has been nothing but challenges, setbacks, problems, and you're everything but. he just wants to be soft and gentle with you.

harry climbs under the sheets, his body also succumbing to the ache and exhaustion. he wraps himself around you, already falling asleep against his chest. harry joins not long after, finally getting his much needed sleep without the threat of his nightmares.

a few weeks later it's just a bit warmer out than it has been, so you and harry immediately started the day doing outdoor chores while you could. harry was chopping wood as you cleaned up around the cottage garden. it was too cold most of the year to grow much of anything out of it, but you still liked to keep it manageable for the smaller animals that stopped by to look around.

you also took the time to admire harry, shirtless, sweaty, groaning each time he drops the ax into another cut of firewood. his body had become well built from all the manual labor he's been doing lately, carrying entire trunks or stumps of trees out of the forest, lifting heavy bags of mulch and dirt for you, digging out the flower bed around the cottage, he was more muscular and toned than you'd ever seen him. it never mattered what harry's body looked like to you, you always found him attractive no matter what, but you couldn't deny that his toned back and broad shoulders got you more worked up than usual lately.

it was nice getting to work on the home with each other, a comfortable silence filling the day broken by the occasional question, favor, kiss, or compliment. it was peaceful, this routine you both had, and it felt so natural to work with each other. you hardly had to communicate your ideas because you were often thinking the same things.

tea in the morning, chores once the sun is out, taking a dip in the ocean at sunset, and having a warm home cooked dinner in the dark, the cottage lit from within from candles and the fireplace. it was perfect. for both of you.

and, of course, the sex had never slowed down as well.

you had both joked at the beginning of your move that you didn't think you could ever stop yourselves now that you were isolated from the world, but that's exactly what ended up happening. neither of your desires could be relieved no matter how many times you tried. not that you wanted them to go away by any means, it was just overwhelming, the feral need to spend hours each day pleasuring each other in every way possible. it was always passionate and desperate for more, never becoming repetitive or any less exciting. it was exactly what you both needed and wanted all the time.

as the sun was setting for the day, you and harry sat together and shared an orange you had gotten at the market just a few miles away earlier that week. you were lucky to be close enough to something that offered fresh produce, even in the colder parts of the year. harry watched the waves crashing against the sand, his knees to his chest as you both steady yourself on a large rock between the cottage and the water.

"thank you," harry says softly. you look over at him, his hands now empty as he's swallowing the last of his orange slices. you finish yours as well. "of course," you respond.

harry shakes his head. "no. really. thank you, [y/n], for everything." he says, still watching the sea. you blush, giving him a soft smile before turning to watch it as well. "i'm finally, really, truly happy. for the first time in my life, i feel at peace." harry explains, still speaking softly just over the crashing waves.

you could cry just from harry's words. all you've ever wanted was for him to feel safe. he's had such a difficult start in life and didn't deserve what happened to him, or what he was forced to do. he deserved simplicity. a normal life in a normal home doing normal chores. he deserved to be happy.

overcome with love, you stand from the rock and grab harry's hand, pulling him with you. he silently follows you down the beach. once you're a few yards away from the shore, you pull down the straps of the dress you had been working in off your shoulders, letting the material slide right off your body and onto the sand as you continue heading towards the water.

you turn to look at harry, and he's stunned at how beautiful you are. the shape of your body against the warm sunset over the water, nothing but a pair of panties covering your sweaty skin. your hair was flowing in the salty breeze of the ocean, hands reaching for his as your feet began to touch the water.

harry's ripped and dirty blue jeans come off as well as his glasses, leaving them behind on the sand as he grabs for your hand. you walk into the water together, slightly shivering from the lingering chill beneath the warm surface, but quickly adjusting to the temperature. harry's only admiring you, like he always does, as you dip your head under the water and come up, pushing the hair out of your face.

harry does the same, wiping his face of the sweat and dirt that's collected over the work day with the salty water. this has become one of his favorite parts of your routine together, cooling off in the ocean after a long day. not just to wash off the sweat and stress of the day, but also to admire you in all your glory under the shining sun.

harry wastes no time reaching for you, pulling you into him as you float in his grasp. he holds you for a moment, mesmerized by the light in your eyes, a smile permanently fixed on his face. "my beautiful girl," he reminds you, his forehead leaning against yours. you hum, reaching your hands to his neck as you pull him in for a heated kiss.

you've had sex in the ocean a few times now, and it's quickly become one of your favorites. it's the ultimate form of freedom being naked together making love in the gentle waves, harry holding you around his waist as he hugs your body into his.

most nights you're both too tired from working to go further than sloppy making out and feeling each other up; but other nights, like tonight, you're both too desperate to care if it hurts.

as harry continues kissing you he carries you back to the shore, your legs still around his waist as he lays you down onto the sand. the water just barely washes over harry's legs as it meets the shoreline. you relax into the warm sand beneath you, harry already pulling your panties off. you giggle at his eagerness. he smirks, his hands gripping your waist hungrily.

you can see harry's erection through his soaking wet boxers barely hanging off his hips. just as eagerly, you pull them down for him as he kicks them to the side.

harry easily slides his cock inside of you, letting out a struggled sigh of relief at the feeling. no matter what's going on around him, harry will always feel perfectly in place when he's inside of you.

your hands are tangled in his wet hair, gripping tighter as he bottoms out. he moans desperately, leaning in for another kiss. his pace evens out to a familiar rhythm, your body wrapping around him as he fucks you into the wet sand. the warm sunset is perfectly met with the chilly breeze of the water that's still waving over both of you gently. each time it gives you shivers, your body arching into harry's from the shocking feeling.

harry's not sure if he's ever wanted to finish this quickly before. it was so perfect, this moment, the sun, the waves, you. he just couldn't believe this was his life. making love to the most beautiful girl in the world where the land meets the sea. he never thought life could be this simple and beautiful, but with you it was effortless.

he pulled away from the kiss to simply look at you, eyes drooping, cheeks blushing, eyebrows pinched together in desperation. he smiled. "i love you," he says so simply, his thrusts beginning to stutter against you. you smile back, eyes still half open. "love you, harry, so much," you manage to say between heavy breaths.

you pull him back in for a kiss, and feel his body weaken on top of you, leaning on his elbows for support in the uneven sand. "baby, baby," he tries to warn you, but you just continue kissing him and wrap your legs back around his waist, pulling him deeper into your pussy.

he completely unravels, pumping his cum inside you as he cries against your lips. "fuck," he keeps groaning in a broken voice. you can feel yourself letting go as well, your thighs squeezing around harry's waist as the water crashes into your body again, making you shake even more.

you both enjoy the moments after your climaxes together, letting the water continue to run over you as the sun's light falls below the horizon. harry, still inside you, his body resting on top of yours, tells you he loves you in the softest, sleepiest voice he can manage.

you kiss his head, reminding him how much you love him.

you both eventually sit up, covered in sand, and chuckle to each other about it. harry invites you back into the water where he washes you off, giving you a loving kiss under the dim sky.

he continues holding you there in the gentle waves, the emerging stars lighting the sky above you. he's a bit cold now, but he couldn't be more warm inside. harry just loves you and the little life you've built with him here on the sea. he feels happy, loved, and completely at peace in the ocean with you in his arms.

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hometoursandotherstuff · 30 days

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Thanks to Curieously for finding this wonderfully quaint 1830 artist's home and art gallery in Bristol, ME. Just look at that little pink windmill. 6bds, 2ba, $625K.

The entrance to the home is so pretty, I love informal gardens.

Love that everything is so original. The fireplace is wonderful and so is the wide plank floor with a worn path to the next room. What a cozy living room.

Lovely dining room. The vintage fixture above fits perfectly. It's a simple home, no need for a fancy chandelier.

The kitchen has just enough modernization and those floors!

The simple cabinets and worn finish make it look as if they might be original.

Original hearth, but I wonder if they put a wall over the original fireplace.

This is a beautiful room with the little turret-like bumpout.

They are focusing on the fireplaces in the home. Maybe this is a bedroom

And, this room is lined with wide plank knotty pine, although I suspect that it's fairly recent.

Nice rounded railings and stairs.

Lovely light-filled bedroom.

Empty room modernized for a gallery.

Wow, look at the studio.

Photo of the whole home. It's pretty big for the price.

Two other entrances. This home also has a Mansard roof and 2 acres of land.

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/2-Back-Shore-Rd_Round-Pond_ME_04564_M49768-22947

#artists home #historic homes #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour #submissions

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batboyblog · 20 days

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Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #12

March 29-April 5 2024

President Biden united with Senator Bernie Sanders at the White House to review Democratic efforts to bring down drug prices. President Biden touted his Administration’s capping the price of insulin for seniors at $35 a month and capping the price of prescription drugs for seniors at $2,000 a year. Biden hopes to expand both to all Americans through legislation next year with a Democratic congress. The President also praised Senator Sanders' efforts as chair of the Senate Health Committee which has lead to major drug manufacturers capping the price of inhalers at $35 a month. “Bernie, you and I have been fighting this for 25 years,” Biden said “Finally, finally we beat Big Pharma. Finally.”

The White House gave an update on its actions around the Francis Scott Key Bridge disaster. The federal government working with state and local governments hope to have enough of the remains of the bridge cleared to partially reopen the Port of Baltimore by the end of the month and have the port working normally by May. The Administration has already released $60 million in emergency money toward rebuilding and promises the federal government will cover the cost. The Department of Labor has released $3.5 million for Dislocated Worker Grants and plans up to $25 million to cover lost wages. The Small Business Administration is offering $2 million in emergency loans to affected small businesses. The Administration is working with business and labor unions to keep workers at work and cover lost wages.

Vice-President Harris and EPA Administrator Michael Regan announced $20 billion to help finance tens of thousands of climate and clean energy projects across the country. The kinds of projects that will be financed through this project include distributed clean power generation and storage, net-zero retrofits of homes and small businesses, and zero-emission transportation. 70% of the funds, $14 billion, will be invested in low-income and disadvantaged communities. The project is part of a public private partnership so for every 1 dollar of federal money, private companies have promised 7 dollars of investment, bring the total to $150 billion for ongoing financing of climate and clean energy projects for years to come.

The Department of Transportation announced $20.5 billion in investments in public transportation. This represents the largest single investment in public transit by the federal government in history. The money will go to improving and expanding subways, light rail, buses, and ferry systems across America. The DoT hopes to use the funds to in particular expand and improve options for public transport for people with disabilities and seniors.

The Departments of Energy and The Treasury announced $4 billion in tax credits for businesses investing in clean energy, critical materials recycling, and Industrial decarbonization. The credits till go toward 100 projects across 35 states. 67% of the credits ($2.7 billion) will go to clean energy, wind, solar, nuclear, clean hydrogen, as well as updates to grids, better batter storage, and investments in electric vehicles. 20% ($800 million) will go to to recycling things like lithium-ion batteries, and 13% ($500 million) to decarbonization in industries like automotive manufacturing, and iron and steel.

The Department of Agriculture announced $1.5 Billion in investments in climate-smart agriculture. USDA plans to support over 180,000 farms representing 225 million acres in the next 5 years move toward more climate friendly agriculture. 40% of the project is reserved for disadvantaged communities, in line with the Biden Administrations standard for climate investment. $100 million has been reserved for projects in Tribal Communities.

The Department of the Interior approved the New England Wind offshore wind project. To be located off Martha’s Vineyard the New England project represents the 8th such off shore wind project approved by the Biden administration. Taken together these projects will generate 10 gigawatts of totally clean energy that can power 4 million homes. The Administration's climate goals call for 30 gigawatts of off shore wind power by 2030. The New England Wind project itself is expected to generate 2,600 megawatts of electricity, enough to power more than 900,000 homes in the New England area.

The Department of the Interior announced $320 Million for tribal water infrastructure. Interior also announced $244 million to deal with legacy pollution from mining in the State of Pennsylvania, as well as $25 million to protect wetlands in Arizona and $19 million to put solar panels over irrigation canals in California, Oregon and Utah. While the Department of Energy announced $27 million for 40 projects by state, local and tribal governments to combat climate change

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Bernie Sanders #political #american politics #Democrats #health care #climate change #drug prices #clean energy

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painted-bees · 6 months

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September 23rd 2010

i) The tide was lower than Magritte had ever seen it.

Perhaps ‘seen’ was the wrong word to use. The inky darkness of night swallowed the barren, stoney features of Smelt Bay, as well as the ocean that lapped distantly at its shore. Rather, she heard it; the white noise of the waves breaking unusually far away. All the better, honestly. She wasn’t here to swim. In fact, Smelt Bay was a terrible beach for swimming. It wasn’t just that the frigid coastline lacked in soft, warm sand; the uneven and slippery rockbed that composed the entire stretch of bay was covered, acre by acre, in countless oyster shells. They adorned almost every rock they could cling to, and their razor sharp edges could slice easily through hand and foot like a warm knife through butter. Which is why Magritte plodded along, slowly and carefully, in her brand new hiking boots.

Raf had cautioned her against clambering around the beach so late at night and, usually, she heeded his anxieties about it. It wasn’t initially her intention to scramble down the bluff and onto the beach; she had only wanted to come out and watch the seafoam crash gently upon the stones. At night, under the moonlight, the contrast between white foam and inky water enchanted her with its otherworldly beauty. However, upon reaching the beach, the tide had been drawn out further than she could see. And so now, she was looking for it.

She had the good sense not to stumble forward in the dark, using her phone's flashlight to illuminate the path in front of her. She loved scouring the beach at low tide. Countless crabs of all sizes scuttled and scurried beneath the unnatural light of her phone. Her eyes met with the occasional, chubby pink and purple starfish that had been abandoned by the retreating ocean. Both the crabs and the brightly coloured starfish were a common sight on these beaches and, while she appreciated their company, they failed to make her pause. What did capture her attention was a fat, orange blob of a creature.

What are you? Magritte stopped to crouch down for a better look, lifting her phone to shine upon it. Oh, just another starfish… Well, no. Not really. It had one, two, three, four…eight…thirteen legs! She stared at it for a moment of deliberation before extending a tentative forefinger to poke its roughly textured, glistening surface. Before her finger could get within an inch of it, a gentle blanketing wave of frothy ocean fanned out between her and the creature, covering both it and her hiking boots in several inches of freezing water.

With a startled yelp at the stabbing cold, Magritte bolted upright as she found herself soaked to the ankles.

“Aw, shit-!” She lifted one foot out, and then the other in an awkward hopping skip, trying in vain to keep her feet up, out of the rogue wave. Apparently, the tide had been a lot closer than she thought. She continued her silly, wet, hop-scotchy walk back towards the bluffs with a self-depreciative chuckle. She expected the wave to recede.

But it didn’t.

Instead, another wave layered itself on top, swallowing her calves, and then another that submerged her past the knee. The arresting shock of the cold was outcompeted by the jolt of fear that kicked her into a frantic scramble. As she abandoned caution, the forceful current of the tide rose past her waistline, shoving her forward and off her feet. The water’s piercing chill bit through her chest, squeezing a sharp gasp from her just as her head was pulled beneath the waves.

Primal terror possessed her to reach forward with her hands and find purchase on any surface she could grab. Her fingers closed around fists full of jagged oyster shells that held like cement to the stones they were anchored to. As the ripping current suddenly dragged Magritte back, the soft flesh of her grasping palms may as well have been wet tissue for how well they maintained their structure. What little air she held her lungs escaped with the muffled scream that boiled out from her throat. She tumbled like a rag doll as she was pulled backward by the powerful riptide. Her knees and elbows painfully scraped across the oyster-laiden ground in intervals that only served to further disorient her.

Panic crescendoed, blackening the edges of her vision just in time for her head to break through the surface of the waves. She treaded water with wild, unevenly flailing limbs, drawing in a sharp gasp that was quickly strangled by a fit of wet coughing. Chest, hands, arms, knees, everything burned. And what didn’t burn felt as though it were being needled by cold knives. She couldn’t stop coughing. She couldn’t draw a proper breath. Her head rushed with the sound of waves. Or blood. Her eyes were useless as strangled tears obscured her vision.

Until, at last, her coughing subsided, and she drew in one…two…three shaky, shallow breaths. She held it for a moment, the best she could.

And…it was quiet.

The sound of water lapping at her jawline and behind her ears outcompeted the volume of waves across the distant shore.

The very distant shore.

She released her breath, surrendering to over-exerted panting. But, even her starving lungs were too constricted by the freezing water to draw in proper gulps of air. Her breaths were short, sharp, and uneven as she attempted to scan the landscape for signs of the shore.

She could not see land; not even the light of distant houses. Beneath the starry sky, the world around her seemed unnaturally dark.

A nervous laugh broke out of her throat, accompanied with a teeth-clattering, quiet little chant. “F-fuck, fuck, f-fuck, fuck.”

The searing hot pain of her oyster-inflicted wounds had, at least, subsided rather quickly. She didn’t attempt to move her fingers, let alone ball her hands into fists. She didn’t even dare to look at them. She could barely feel them at all.

Experimentally, she drew in as deep a breath as she could, and stopped treading water. She felt herself begin to sink, and with more effort than it was worth, she shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her boots. Or rather, her boot, singular. Apparently, she had lost the other one already. Her feet were so numb that she couldn’t feel the difference. Shedding the remaining boot hardly made her more buoyant, but it felt like it helped.

She attempted to curl her lips into a smile. “O-okay, w…well…If I had to choose…between f-freezing to d-eath or drowning, I’d rather freeze. S-so let's focus on that, I g-uess.”

Bleak.

Was there any point in swimming when she couldn’t see the shore? How long could someone survive in water like this? Was she afraid of dying?

Not nearly as afraid as I was just a few moments ago.

She should have felt…more upset than this. It seemed strange. Maybe she was just too cold to think properly, but most likely, the reality of her situation hadn’t set in yet. After all, the situation was salvageable. A boat could come along and haul her out of the water. The tide could wash her up onto the shore. There were lots of different little islands around here, she was bound to wash up on the shore of one, right? What were the chances of that happening before she could freeze to death?

…How long would it take for the hopelessness to set in? If she could keep making light of the situation, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“And, yan-n-no…it’s been a g-good run.”

…Hasn’t it?

Truth be told, things had only just started getting really good. Well, kinda. This year was a rough patch. Uncle Bill’s passing in late April had really…thrown things askew. But the island was a perfect escape from the fake sympathies, the incessant phone calls, the social obligations…all the stress… It was gonna give them the peace, quiet, and space to properly grieve. We were gonna start playing music again. They had only been on the island for a week. The cottage Bill had left to Raf was so nice. It had a piano. It was cute. Warm.

Of all things, it was the thought of the cottage’s little black wood stove that made Magritte’s eyes water with a sudden stab of helpless dismay.

No, why? That’s so stupid.

Why the stove? Why not the grief of her parents? Why not the fact that she’d never be able to play music again? Why not–

“Raf.” It came out as a croak that she barely even recognized as her own voice. “S-shit. I’m sorry, Raf. M-man. This was my s-stupid idea. It was my id-dea to come here, it was s-s-supposed to be so good. B-but…th-this is r-really…gonna…wreck you, isn’t it.”

There was a long pause as Magritte bobbed uselessly with the waves, trying to will her numb, sluggish limbs to move in a manner that allowed her to survey her surroundings once again for any sign of land. Maybe she should just start swimming in a direction, would that have been better? Would it make her feel warmer? Or…would it just exhaust her faster?

She was already so tired.

I don’t want to be anyone’s traumatic loss, I just want to be warm.

How the hell did this even happen? What caused the ocean to hit her so suddenly, like a river?

It doesn’t make sense. What if this is just a really bad dream? I could wake up in bed, soft and warm, and held…coffee...and…eggs. Over easy in front of the wood stove. Pyjamas…slippers, but like…not the linoleum kind, it needs to have enough structural integrity for breakfast…to support the…workload and drive me to the–

-PIFFF-

Magritte hadn’t realised that her eyelids were closed, but the sudden explosive hissing that erupted right beside her caused them to snap wide open. For a second, she thought that something had fallen off the top shelf of her closet. But almost as quickly as she imagined that, the biting cold water encroaching on the corners of her nose and eyes reminded her of where she was.

-FIFFFFF-

The same sound again, slightly further away. Panic rejuvenated her for a brief moment until she saw the source of the noise. A jet of pale mist erupted from the surface of the water, and in its wake, a dark, triangular silhouette glided smoothly downward. The wet, rubbery flesh glistened in the moonlight before sinking beneath the rolling waves.

Whales.

Magritte attempted to lift her head enough to see if she could spot them again. Sure enough, three or four more of the creatures surfaced silently. The ghostly silhouettes of their dorsal fins were all that gave away their position. These must have been the orcas the neighbours had mentioned. Even Raf once managed to catch a glimpse of them from the shore, but Magritte hadn’t been with him to see it. She had wanted so badly to look at them…

“Oh…well, thanks for showing up, guys.” Her teeth weren’t clattering anymore, but she could hardly bring her voice above a whisper. For some reason, her throat felt so tight. “Please don’t toss me around like a seal… I’ve seen what you do to them…on t.v.”

The whales responded with a series of loud, spouting breaths; some nearby, others further away. As she recalled the image of a half flayed seal rag-dolling through the air, anxiety blossomed in the pit of her stomach, Magritte turned her gaze upward and hung it on the three bright stars of Orion’s belt.

If making noise is encouraged as a way of deterring bears from harassing hikers, maybe the same was true for whales and swimmers. I can be weird and loud, can’t I?

She attempted to sing a song. Her strangled voice rasped, fruitlessly struggling to be heard above the sounds around her.

“What are you hunting up there in the stars?

Is it beasts, or demons, or old battle scars?

Do you remember the warmth of my palm in yours

Is it buried in rubble from all of those wars?

You’ve lost yourself so far, far away

Searching for ghosts and impossible prey.

You’ve flown too far from the earth and the sea,

Please come back…come back…

…Come back to…”

As her words drifted, so too did she; down, down, into the cold, quiet void.

And it embraced her, lovingly.

ii)

Raf’s eyes opened to the sound of ocean waves and a dull ache in his neck. Light poured out from the cottage windows, pooling warmly across the sprucewood deck and the white, woven hammock that cradled him. An earbud filled his left ear, but no music played. Either his iphone had come to the end of his playlist, or it had run out its battery life while he slept.

With a tired groan, he sat up and stretched, gingerly tilting his head to loosen the painful knot in his neck. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but he should have expected it after a relaxing joint and some quality tunes. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up. Perhaps it was the chill. It wasn’t cold enough for his breath to hang in the air, but it was chilly enough for him to wish for a sweater–rather than a t-shirt–beneath his jacket.

Or maybe it was the concussive sound of the waves.

The ocean wasn’t visible from his cottage. There was a strip of dense forest that lined the property and separated it from the bluffs. Still, the white noise of the ocean could always be heard through the trees. The salt could be smelled on the breeze, and it could be felt collecting in his hair. It must have been exceptionally turbulent out there tonight, for he could hear the waves crashing with an unusually loud clarity.

Raf lifted his phone and turned on the LED screen to check the time. Its battery life was still good, but as he had suspected, his playlist had played through to the last track.

1:34 a.m.

The corners of Raf’s mouth twitched.

Magritte hadn’t woken him up to herd him into bed when she came home. Was she pissed off at him for declining to walk with her?

In fairness, he had been…difficult to manage the past half year. And it became increasingly obvious that Magritte’s bountiful patience had been running thin over the past month or two. She had begun to adopt his defensive snippiness–not at him, but at the things she knew infringed upon him. Phone calls, text messages, the gestures of concerned friends and colleagues reaching out to see if he was okay. The cold, prying interrogations–thinly veiled by hollow sympathies–querying for available pieces of his uncle’s estate.

The man’s body hardly had time to grow cold before Ephrem representatives began hounding Raf about the company shares he had inherited. His family in Monaco had gone so far as to request the retrieval of Uncle Bill’s body. “He should be put to rest on home soil”–but his will had detailed what was to be done. By his request, Uncle Bill’s body was kept here, in British Columbia. Raf had to take care of it all; the estate, the funeral, and the vultures.

All he wanted to do was hide.

And, in a way, that’s mostly what he did. He managed as much as he could, but once the funeral had been concluded, his energy and willingness to keep on top of things dissolved. He just couldn’t…deal…with the people. Any of them. At some point, they had all stopped resembling human beings, and felt more like a pack of feral dogs with no purpose greater than to sate their gluttony. Every interaction bloodied him with clawing, hungry teeth.

Magritte picked up the slack for him. It was…beyond her ability, honestly. But she did her best, at the expense of indulging her passions. While he isolated and avoided the torrent of his unwanted responsibilities, Magritte had lived those months constantly on the backfoot, attempting to hold things together and never quite managing to see any of it through properly. It was simply too many balls for her poor little arms to carry, and as she tried to pick up the ones she had dropped, more always spilled out.

Last month, it had finally driven her to tears.

Raf had been woefully inadequate at showing his appreciation for her efforts and, even as he watched her sob in frustration, he found it difficult to provide any meaningful comfort. Nothing broke his heart quite like seeing her cry, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to promise any fun distractions. He couldn’t tell her, in earnest, that things were fine. He couldn’t give her the reward of knowing that she had been able to make everything right and good for him. He could only tell her that he knew she was doing her best, that he was glad to have her with him, and that he loved her.

More than anything, he loved her.

Talk was cheap. He knew that better than anyone. But living in ‘survival mode’ left very little in the way of emotional resources, and he had become very cold, irritable, and distant. Still, Magritte sought out his company. She wished to share good experiences with him and did her best to take care of him despite his diminishing reciprocation over the past few months.

Retreating to Cortes Island had been her idea. She had never visited the place before, but when Raf described it as a tiny, isolated little community with no supermarkets nor chain restaurants, no hospitals nor police stations, and with the population of a small school, her eyes lit up.

“It’s perfect! We could just disappear there and take a year–or five–to just…recover from everything!” Her tone had taken on a conspiratorial tone when she added, “We don’t have to tell anyone.”

She had underestimated the scope of work that accompanied ‘disappearing to a small island for a year’. In contrast, the workload was all his mind could fixate on. But– a body of water separating him from the relentless chaos of the mainland was appealing enough for him to commit to the move. And so, they made their hasty preparations, packed up, and left without a word.

A week had passed since they moved into the small cottage, and Raf had to admit that the quiet calm of the island was…a relief.

He had asked Magritte for a month. A month of nothing; no outings, no plans, no obligations–just rest. It was the closest thing to hibernation he was ever going to experience, and she had agreed to it. It didn’t stop her, though, from inviting him out for walks, and to see the ocean with her. It was the bare minimum, and he should have obliged her more often than he did. But truly, all he wanted to do was stay home, smoke weed, listen to music, and sleep.

And that’s what he had chosen to do when she invited him to watch the waves with her, some time after 10pm. She didn’t seem bothered when he lazily declined to accompany her, but perhaps she had grown cranky about it during her time out. Seeing him passed out in the hammock, she probably left him to endure the natural consequences of his poor choices, and went to bed without him.

Honestly, catching a chill and a sore neck was negligible punishment compared to the guilt of disappointing Margie. On the other hand, he had asked her for a month–just one month–to be as lazy and absent as he wanted to be, and she had agreed to it. So if she was pissed off at him–

Her shoes were not at the front door.

Usually, Magritte kicked her boots off before entering the house, and rarely brought them inside. Raf opened the door, expecting to see them on the shoe rack, but they weren’t there either. Nor was her jacket strewn over the back of the couch as it should have been.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and marched quietly up the steep, narrow little staircase to the second floor. Down the short corridor, his bedroom door was still open and he could see through to his window and the night sky that overlooked the foot of his bed. Peeking his head in, the blankets laid smooth and undisturbed across the mattress, folded over to expose the neatly arranged pillows.

Raf pulled himself back into the tiny corridor with a bewildered frown. “Margie?” It wasn’t a yell, but his voice projected loudly enough to be heard throughout the small cottage.

There was no answer, only the gentle hum of the fridge downstairs, accompanied by the rustling of leaves in the breeze outside. And the crashing of waves upon the unseen shore.

With an agitated groan Raf dropped back down the stairs, towards the front door, and hastily put on his sneakers. Something at the beach must have captivated her. Maybe some weird sealife, maybe partying campers. Either way, she had lost track of time, and now he had to go find her. At least she couldn’t be disappointed with him if she had chosen to stay out at a worryingly late hour.

The beach wasn’t more than a fifteen minute walk away, and all he had to do was follow the gravel road down the slope, onto Potlatch Road, and then down to Smelt Bay. There were no lamps lining the street, and so Raf found himself relying on his phone torch to light the path ahead of him. Despite the darkness, it wasn’t an eerie nor dangerous walk by any means. Accompanied by the singing of crickets, he was comfortably familiar enough with these streets, trusting them even with a lone, wandering Margie.

As he made his way briskly down the long, paved length of Potlatch road, his curiosity was tickled by just how close the sound of lapping ocean waves seemed to be. Perhaps it was the way it echoed off the treeline, but it sounded as though it were almost right in front of him.

Raf rounded the broad corner towards Smelt Bay–and stopped.

The pavement directly beneath his feet had become gradually more wet, as though a heavy rain had passed through recently. That would have been strange enough on its own. He’d have definitely noticed if it had been raining, and there wouldn’t have been such a clear, sudden border between dry ground and waterlogged asphalt. He lifted his phone light to shine it further down the road, and frowned.

Ahead of him, the street was covered in a thin layer of water, seafoam lapping over concrete and into the grassy ditch. As he continued a tentative pace forward, the water wasn’t quite high enough to spill over the rubber soles of his shoes. He walked until Potlatch met with Smelt Bay Road, where he was granted an unobscured view of the beach. The ocean’s waves broke over the bluffs, flooding the street and the grassy plots of land that faced the open bay.

“...The hell?” He muttered, barely above a whisper.

The ocean had to have risen a fair few feet in order for it to breach the bluffs. Was it possible for the tide to get this high? He watched as an empty bottle, tangled within a plastic bag, washed across the street alongside a random toque and a mess of uprooted reeds. Debris, both natural and unnatural, lined the waterlogged road. An enormous, sea weathered piece of driftwood that had spent years as a reliable landmark on the stony beach–now sat wedged askew in the ditch. A flash flood?

Tsunami.

Wait–

Anxiety closed its claws around his gut, and twisted.

“Margie?!” He barked out her name in the direction of the beach.

He took a few automatic strides towards the submerged bluff before halting, and he turned his phone over in his hand. Opening his contact list, he hit Magritte’s number and pressed the phone to his ear. Cell coverage on the island was spotty at best, but to his relief, the call connected. As it rang, he paced, his feet kicking up cold water into his shoes.

“Come on, answer your phone. I’m not gonna be mad at you, just answer your damn phone.”

He let it ring until the robotic voice of the phone operator made him hang up.

And then he tried again, to the same result.

What the hell could he do?

What was he supposed to do?

Don’t catastrophize, it’s not the worst case scenario, it never is.

Immediately, his brain had filled him with thoughts of Margie getting bowled over by enormous waves and dragged to sea. But, based on the fact that no one else was out inspecting damages or lamenting their losses, things probably hadn’t happened as suddenly nor as violently as his imagination pictured it. Realistically, she likely saw the tide start to come in and watched it from a distance, perhaps with some other folks who were hanging around the area. Plausibly, she was at a campsite somewhere, talking about it over smores and cheap booze. Or something like that.

But then, why didn’t she answer her phone?

Raf had already turned around and began walking in the direction of the camping lots. All he had to do was find one that still had a fire going at this time of night. But, as his feet left solid pavement and marched onto the dirt road of the Smelt Bay campsites, he found that the tide had flooded this area as well. The inch of water blanketing the ground turned it into a muddy mess. There were no tents pitched in any of the lots. No campfires, either. Two or three of the lots housed a parked RV, elevated off the ground. Dry, and oblivious to the seawater beneath their tires. None of them showed any signs of waking life. Magritte wasn’t here.

Coming upon one of the empty lots, Raf found a sturdy tree stump that had clearly been fashioned for seating, and dropped himself down on it. He buried his face into his hands with a fraught sigh. There had been tents here, he knew that much. The inhabitants likely packed up and abandoned the lots in favour of finding a dry place to spend the night. If the RVs and trailers were still here, clearly there couldn’t have been much of a panic. The waterline hadn’t risen catastrophically.

Still, Magritte was missing.

He tried to call her one more time, and was greeted unhelpfully by the operating system once again.

What if she had gotten home after he had left to find her?

The thought pulled Raf back onto his feet, and what started as a swift walk home hastened into an anxious jog.

The tide, he noted, was slowly receding. A length of road that had been submerged when he first arrived was exposed once again to dry off in the chilly night air. For some reason, the sight of it relieved his anxiety somewhat. There was nothing inherently dangerous about the strange tide; it wasn’t any kind of disaster. Likely, Margie was at home, worried and waiting for him. Her phone battery must have depleted. It would explain why she wasn’t calling him back.

It wasn’t long before he was walking down the long, rough, unpaved driveway; under the boughs of spruce and cedar trees and into the clearing of the cottage's wild, grassy property.

Approaching the house, he called out her name across the yard to no answer. The lights were still on in the living room and kitchen. He climbed the two steps of the porch up to the front door and, calling her name once more, he opened it.

No response.

Before stepping inside, he kicked off his muddy shoes and then closed the door behind him.

“Margie.” His volume was conversational as he scaled the narrow flight of stairs to the second floor and diligently checked each of the bedrooms.

No. She wasn’t here.

Then…where was she?

Not the ocean. Not the ocean. Not in the ocean.

Sitting down on the foot of the bed, Raf stared at the floor and tried to fight off a wave of despair.

There was no way.

There was no fucking way. It would have been beyond cruelty to leave him like this. He wasn’t gonna be able to…it wasn’t something he could handle.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he scooted over to his side of the bed, took his laptop up off his night table, and unfolded it on his lap. A phone jack tethered it to the wall behind the nightstand and provided a serviceable internet connection. He opened a browser and typed into the search bar; “How long to wait before making a missing person report?”

Apparently the answer was “not at all”.

Raf looked up the appropriate number to call, picked up the phone, and dialled. >>part iii, iv, and v<<

#Hi-Note #this is just the beginning...there is more to come dw haha #Cortes meet-cute lmfao #if u can call it that #Rafael #Magritte #Cortes

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wanderingnewyork · 4 months

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A house in #Shore_Acres, #Staten_Island.

#nyc #staten island #statenisland #shore acres #newyorkcity

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mundanalyst · 2 years

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Shore Acres, Oregon 9-30-2020//8-8-2022

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dailyoverview · 11 months

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Lehua is a small, crescent-shaped island located about 20 miles (32 km) west of the Hawaiian Island of Kauai. Formed by the cone of the extinct Ni’ihau volcano, the island spans 279 acres (1.13 square km). Lehua is an uninhabited wildlife sanctuary, providing habitats for at least 17 seabird species and 25 native plants along its steep, rocky shores.

22.019943°, -160.096460°

Source imagery: Maxar

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kissingghouls · 11 months

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The Prince

Part One: The House //ao3 // Part Two // Part Three missed The Count or The King?

Vampire Terzo x Female Reader

Summary: An unconventional summer job turns out to be way more trouble than you thought. // Part 3 of the Suck Club Series 💕

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, horror themes, vampire violence, violence, blood, smut, a dash of enemies to lovers, and more tags on ao3

could not have done this without @ramblingoak. thank you for the encouragement, editing help, letting me cry sometimes, and making me pretty things. 💖💖💖

Part One – The House

This was not how things were supposed to go. Of all the worst-case scenarios you tried to prepare for, this was so far out of left field you hadn’t even considered it. It left you weak and vulnerable, sporting a split lip and bruised knuckles. This was definitely not how things were supposed to go. You blocked one blow and dodged the next, using the momentum to send the heel of your palm smashing into your attacker’s face.

Instantly, he dropped to his knees and wailed in pain. Blood gushed from his nose, pouring freely between his fingers and dripping onto the expensive rug.

“Terzo!” You shouted, trying to get the vampire’s attention. He didn’t even flinch.

Fuck.

Your opponent took the opportunity to dive at you, taking your legs out at the knees. Landing hard, the breath knocked painfully from your lungs as you hit the floor with a dull thud. He crawled over you, blood dripping from his face onto your clothes. That asshole actually smiled at you, teeth stained as crimson as the rest of his face as he brandished something shiny and sharp.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked as he pressed the metal stake into your sternum. He leaned into the weapon, the pressure pushing against your chest. “Are you trying to save him?”

Your answer was little more than a shout, the piece of metal now dangerously close to snapping the bone.

This was far from the summer you’d hoped to have.

A nice, relaxing summer job by the seaside. That’s what you were supposed to tell people you were looking forward to most. You even practiced it in the mirror a handful of times, trying to make your fake smile fit perfectly around the words. Trying to make your life look comfortably “normal” from the outside.

But “normal” didn’t weigh your backpack down with stakes and poisons. “Normal” got to vacation and play in the ocean, relaxing whenever it felt like it. You couldn’t relax until all this was over.

Until Terzo Emeritus was dead.

Outside the window, the tree line sped past, bright green smears against a cloudless sky as the train roared toward the tiny town. The car jostled slightly as the wheels followed the slow curve of the track, bringing you parallel with the southern edge of the coast. Further along the horizon, that brilliant blue dipped down to meet the ocean beyond the jagged, rocky cliffs that cut a harsh line against the shore. It was the kind of sight that probably looked amazing at sunset, but instead of picturing it you turned your eyes back to the screen in your hand.

“…the grandest of all the summer homes of the time: Meliora House. The Gilded Age estate rests on a breathtaking fifteen acre plot overlooking the ocean. The grounds are covered in spectacular gardens…”

You squinted at the image, tuning out the narrator’s droning voice. You’d seen the special a hundred times by now, knowing exactly when the angles of the shots changed and the timestamps for each room of the ridiculous mansion. The ballroom, the reception hall, the conservatory. Rooms encased by ridiculous amounts of marble and ornamental plaster designed to impress and shame every other asshole with money in the late 1800s.

What those magnates didn’t know, and the documentary failed to mention, was just how impossible it would be to compete with the Emeritus family. Back then, they were considered little more than a group of eccentric brothers who came from old money. As true as it was, no one realized how old the money and the brothers truly were. They’d had hundreds of years to amass the fortune required to build the most impressive house on the block and even more time left to enjoy it.

What did money matter when you would live forever?

The gentleman seated next to you leaned over the armrest and softly cleared his throat. “It’s closed.”

You slipped your headphones from your ears, quickly pausing the video to look over at him. “Sorry?”

“Meliora House,” he said with a kind smile. He was an older man with the kind of soft, wrinkled face that reminded you of your own grandfather. He pointed toward your phone as he continued. “The family closed it for the season. Said it needed renovations or something. Hope that’s not where you were headed.”

You shot him that perfect, practiced smile. “Oh, no. I’m afraid I’m here on business. No time to visit all those old mansions.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “What business are you in?”

“Extermination.”

“Heh, that like pest control?”

“In a way. I deal mainly with large predators. The kinds of things that are dangerous to the human population.”

He blinked. “Like…bears?”

“Something like that,” you agreed with another smile.

The breaks squealed below. The grinding sound of the train slowing to a stop thankfully cut off any other questions the man might have had. You slung your heavy backpack over your shoulders and gripped the handle of your suitcase until your knuckles went white. It was now or never.

The iron gate of Meliora House stood tall in front of you, a small, tasteful “closed for the season” sign dangling from the middle. You slipped through, following the tree-lined drive toward the house. It grew taller and wider with each step, its stone façade blotting out the sky. None of the usual adjectives suited the property. Grand. Stately. Ostentatious. All of them paled in comparison to the real thing.

Meliora House was built under the Emeritus family name, but it quietly changed hands in the 1920s. Shuffling the property through shell corporations over the last one hundred years was enough to make people believe the brothers who built the mansion were long gone. Like other mansions in the area, Meliora House was regularly used as a wedding venue and opened to tourists in the summer under the disguise of preserving the history of the grandiose home. Unlike the other homes, Meliora House was still under private ownership and had not been gifted to any preservation society. That small thread had been enough for you to unravel the history of the notorious vampire family over the last century.

As soon as they announced the house would not open for the season due to needed “repairs,” you knew exactly where at least one Emeritus vampire would be. It took a little more research to figure out which of them would take up residence in the old mansion. Secondo was heavily favored after word spread that his favorite club had burned to the ground. You were happy to play along with the idea, even encouraging others to believe it, but you knew he was far too flashy to find solace in the antiquated summer home. It was much more likely to be occupied by one of the younger Emeritus brothers.

Terzo and Copia leaned more old school than Secondo, both having heavy preferences for castles, chandeliers, and from what you heard, interesting clothing choices. But Count Copia had reportedly coupled up with a younger vampire and would most likely be returning to his castle for the summer, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. That left only Terzo and his companion demons.

It was pure coincidence that you found the employment ad they’d placed. But it was a series of careful, calculated moves that secured you the position. You weren’t going to miss the chance to take out one of the brothers.

Inside, the mansion swelled around you, endless stretches of veined marble floors and archways leading to the kinds of rooms “normal” people had no use for. Even you had to admit the video hardly did Meliora House justice, getting the scale of the grandeur all wrong. It was a remarkable sight, like a relic stuck frozen in time, but you couldn’t help but think of all the other things unlimited riches could provide.

It was vastly different from the tiny one room loft you called home.

Ahead of you, the caretaker Omega rattled on as he’d done in the video, hands making broad sweeps as he spoke. Neither of you mentioned the odd silver mask that covered his face during your initial introduction or even during the assessment of your responsibilities. You saw no point in talking about it now either. Your resumé alluded to the fact that you had seen some weird shit in your time working for other prominent families with strict NDAs and you weren’t about to blow your cover in the first five minutes.

Another staffer, Alpha, sat at the bottom of the stairs with his masked head in his hands while somewhere above him glass shattered.

“Your turn,” was all Alpha said as he stood and moved past the two of you.

“What the hell are two still doing here?” a voice rang out angrily, echoing against the vaulted ceilings.

The three of you turned your attention toward the landing. The vampire wore little more than an annoyed look as he sneered at his demons, black hair framing his face as he rested his hands on his slim hips. Even half-dressed, he commanded the room in a way photos could never hope to capture.

“Well?” he huffed, his odd white eye seeming to glow with his irritation.

“We were just leaving,” Omega said quickly and spun around to head for the door.

Alpha caught him by the collar, keeping him from getting away. “This was your idea,” he hissed.

Terzo groaned. “You don’t need my permission. You have the summer off, just go. Get the fuck out.”

“Um, sir,” Omega started carefully with a nervous shake in his voice. “We—well, sir, remember how we talked before? It’s a lot of work to keep up the house and we thought—”

“He thought,” Alpha corrected.

“Right. Eh, well, this is the assistant I hired to help you.”

The vampire groaned and took a step to the side, leaning over slightly. His painted face was set in a frown as he squinted down at you, his actual expression unreadable. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and studied you a beat longer. He looked younger than you expected, the evidence a little more visible on his lithe frame than his face could show. A pair of grey sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, but as he shifted his stance, they almost gave up completely. There wasn’t much of the vampire left to your imagination—the thatch of black hair and the very distinct outline of his dick were hard to miss.

Fucking vampires.

“Oh, come on,” Omega hissed and rushed up the stairs. He gripped the waistband of Terzo’s pants and yanked them up enough to cover his boss’s decency. “We talked about this.”

Terzo slapped his hands away and started shouting, the hint of his accent becoming stronger with his frustrated emotional state. “What is this? What are you doing? I put on pants. What more do you want?”

“Sir, please,” Omega pleaded. “We have company. This is why we have the pants rule now.”

“Why are you doing this? Who are you calling ‘sir?’ What the hell are you wearing?” he yelled and flicked the metal mask covering Omega’s face.

“I—we—”

“No. You get out of my house, now,” he ordered, pushing Omega away once more. He stomped down the stairs, pausing in front of you as he landed on the main floor. He tilted his head as he looked you over, eyeing you curiously, appreciatively. “You can stay.”

He turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the dining room without another word.

Alpha sighed and shook his head. “I’ll be outside.”

Omega approached you slowly, his voice low. “He’s…Mr. Emeritus has been under a lot of stress recently. I’m afraid he’s not himself. I apologize for his outbursts, but I don’t think I can guarantee it will be the last.”

“Omega, it’s fine. Really. He’s far from the first difficult client I’ve had,” you said with a slick smile.

His shoulders relaxed slightly. “He’ll probably keep to himself most of the time. Mr. Emeritus can be a bit peculiar about his privacy, so don’t be surprised if you don’t see him for a couple of days. He’ll show up eventually.” He leaned in closer to whisper, “I think he’d die if he went without attention for too long.”

“I heard that!” Terzo snapped from the hallway. “Stop calling me Mr. Emeritus and get out of my house!”

Omega quickly shook your hand. “Well, good luck,” he mumbled as he stalked off.

The heavy front door closed with a loud slam as the two demons made their exit, leaving you and the vampire in silence. He turned and closed the space between you before dipping into a deep bow.

“Buonasera Signora.”

“Uh, hi?”

His head snapped up, a playful grin resting on his painted mouth. He took your hand and brought it to his lips, barely ghosting a kiss against your knuckles. “Welcome to Meliora House. Please allow me to—” He paused and looked around the reception hall. “Bellezza, where are your things?”

“Right here?” you replied with a shrug and motioned to the small suitcase at your feet.

“No, but…where?” He looked at you like he was about to short-circuit. “That’s all you have? For the entire summer? Stai scherzando con me?”

“You’re wearing a lot less than this right now.”

His brow furrowed. “I have closets, bellezza. Many closets.”

“Well, good for you, I guess?”

He blinked rapidly. “Sì, it is good for me? But you…this cannot be enough? How is this enough?”

You folded your arms over your chest. “You do realize that not everyone lives in a Gilded Age French chateau, right? Like, you’re aware that some people live in studio apartments?”

“Yes, bellezza. I’m not an asshole.”

You snorted. “If you say so.”

He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, mumbling in Italian. “At least let me show you to your room. Where you can put your one bag.”

Six days. Six excruciatingly long days trapped inside a vampire’s fucked up approximation of a summer home. If you weren’t already here to kill the vampire, the last week would have easily driven you to murder him. Even in a house this size you couldn’t avoid Terzo for long. You’d been assigned the room directly across the hall from him, the one boundary he chose to respect amongst the countless others he ignored. While he never entered your space, it didn’t stop him from creepily lurking in the hallway at odd hours.

No matter how badly you wanted to get it over with and take him out for good, you couldn’t rush this. Vampires were always stronger than they appeared. It was a fact you couldn’t afford to forget, even if he was small and odd. And mouthy.

Terzo never ever shut up.

Meliora House might have been empty of other people, but it was filled to the brim with all things Terzo Emeritus. He left things everywhere, a bizarre collection of designer clothing shed wherever he felt like it. A path of destruction and debris always followed him, like a one-vampire tornado tearing through every room of the mansion he passed through. And when you weren’t stuck cleaning up after Hurricane Terzo, his voice could be heard on every floor, belting out anything from opera to modern top 40.

He didn’t seem to have a care in the world. It never once occurred to him that his doom could be across the hall, lying in wait for the perfect moment. And you were, of course. You were studying harder than you ever had for any test, memorizing his movements and routines. There were weapons planted strategically throughout your room, everything within arm’s reach in case the vampire became too bold or too hungry. In reality, there was little-to-no risk of that happening. Most of the time, Terzo forgot you were even there.

It was almost humorous to watch this powerful immortal be repeatedly surprised and sometimes startled by your presence. Not a single thing you knew about the fearless killing machines seemed to apply to the third Emeritus. As far as you could tell, the most dangerous thing about him was an addiction to sappy low-budget romance movies. Which he watched constantly. At all hours. At full volume. With a soundbar.

If you had to hear another big city woman fall head-over-heels for a small-town baker, you were going to burn the entire place to the ground.

Your respite came in the form of the company car Omega had left for you to use at your leisure. The temperature had dropped after sunset, the dark clouds of a storm rolling over the ocean. It was the perfect night to drive along the scenic route and lose yourself in your thoughts without the constant noise and mess of the creature that dwelled within the mansion. You pulled your sleeves over your hands and walked a little faster toward the car, uninterested in getting caught in the rain. As you slid into the seat, you reached over your shoulder for the seatbelt when the dome light burst to life, illuminating the dark interior of the vehicle.

The vampire was in the car.

Blinking in disbelief, you shook your head and reached across the center console, prodding at his body in the hopes that you were hallucinating. “What the hell are you doing?”

Terzo shrugged from the passenger seat, the soft leather creaking under him as he leaned away from your threatening hand. “I’m bored.”

You poked him in the side, confirming he had really just climbed into your car without asking. Ok, maybe it was his car, but Omega had left you the keys. “You’re bored…so you just…”

He turned to look at you, his white eye shining oddly in the dark. “Just what?”

“People don’t really tell you no, do they?”

He shrugged again and focused his attention on the storm clouds in the distance. “I don’t really know many people.”

You kept quiet, opting to start the car instead of trying to tackle Terzo’s existential crisis.

As you pulled the car onto the main road, you focused on slowing your heart rate. Being this close to the vampire physically without a weapon wasn’t really part of your plan. There wasn’t anything you could use to defend yourself in the car either. Unless you wanted to count that tiny vial of pepper spray in your bag. You doubted he would even blink at that.

Your body jerked involuntarily as Terzo shifted in his seat. He leaned his elbow against the window as he pointed his body toward you, his head lazily resting on his hand.

“Is it the storm?” he asked.

“What?”

“Something is making you nervous. Is it the storm? You’re…jumpy.”

“No,” you sighed, running your hand through your hair. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Ah,” he said softly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “It’s me.”

“Oh, you fucking wish,” you choked out, holding back a laugh.

“Bellezza,” he began, his voice sultry and low. “It’s ok. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, eyes darting over the road as rain began to pelt the windshield. “I am not afraid of you.”

He nodded once, his stupid smirk turning into a smile.

“I’m not! It’s just…we don’t really know each other, you know? And you just kind of jumped in the car? It’s a little unnerving.”

“I told you I was bored.”

“Sure, but most people, you know, ask.”

“Oh.”

The quiet lasted only seconds before Terzo began flicking every switch and turning every dial within reach. He turned the heat to full blast and, despite the rain, held down the button for his window letting it descend completely as water splattered the interior and his clothes. Slowly, he let the window rise halfway before bringing it back down again. When the window held no more joy, he leaned across the console and started fucking with the radio.

“Can you stop?” you snapped, fingers itching to slap his hands away.

“What does this do?” he asked, clicking several buttons repeatedly.

“I don’t know,” you answered, taking a measured breath to keep from screaming at him. “Isn’t this your car?”

“It might be, maybe?”

“Shouldn’t you know how your car works?”

“There are A LOT of buttons here!” He emphasized the statement by pressing as many buttons at the same time as he could reach. The air was on now, cold blowing straight in your face. “Omega usually makes me sit in the back. Not as much to do back there.”

“I can see why,” you ground out through gritted teeth.

The rain shifted to a heavy downpour, the drops loud as they bounced off the car. Terzo reached up and pushed one more button. The moonroof slid open, torrents of rain soaking the two of you instantly.

“Oops” fell from his lips with a childlike innocence that could not possibly be real.

You jerked the car to the right, pulling onto the gravel shoulder as you slammed on the breaks and threw the car into park. You flung open the door and stomped to the edge of the scenic cliff the road followed, rocks crunching under your feet as you came to a stop. Bending at the hips, you began to scream at the ocean.

“Bellezza, what are you doing?” Terzo yelled as he ran over and pulled you away from the edge.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferable?”

He bit his lip and nodded. “Sì, Reginetta tells me this.”

“Ok, well, whoever that is, they’re right.”

“Eh, she’s mio fratello’s girlfriend—”

“Not the point, Terzo,” you shouted. “You have two choices, Emeritus. You can get in the back and stop touching shit or you can walk home.”

“I’ve upset you.”

“Yeah,” you replied flatly.

“Mi dispiace, bellezza,” he offered solemnly, bending into a deep bow. “I did not mean to upset you. I will keep my hands to myself.”

“Just get in the car, Terzo,” you instructed, shaking your head.

The two of you began to walk back, Terzo falling behind you as he made to climb into the back.

“Look, you can sit up here if you swear you won’t touch anything else. Deal?” you offered, thinking better of having the vampire at your back.

He placed a hand over his heart. “On my Mother’s grave, bellezza.”

“Oh my god, it’s not that serious. Just get in.”

You couldn’t wait any longer. You had to kill him and soon, otherwise it might cost you your sanity.

Killing a vampire was not as easy as books and movies made it out to be. Sure, the methods were mostly correct: stakes were remarkably effective, as was beheading. Fire was often too messy and risky to guarantee much of anything except structural damage. Crosses and holy water were complete bullshit, but modern hunters had found an effective way of debilitating the soulless monsters.

By some happy accident, an inventive hunter found a way to produce a toxin that caused a paralytic effect in vampires. It made the difficult and often extremely dangerous task much more manageable for a team of one—provided there was only one vampire you were after. Too many new kids had underestimated their enemy only to stumble on an entire nest and become breakfast.

There was no way in hell you were going to become a victim of Terzo Emeritus.

You propped your boot on the antique chest at the foot of your bed, carefully slipping the loaded syringe against the leather. Your weapon rested against your spine, tucked neatly into the waistband of your jeans. There was no more time to waste; sunrise was in less than an hour and if you didn’t make a move soon, you would lose your chance and your nerve.

The solid wood door creaked no matter how quietly you tried to open it. Normally, the sound was covered by the blaring copywrite-free scores and shitty dialogue of those awful movies Terzo consumed like air. But tonight, the mansion was disturbingly quiet. Crossing the hall, you skipped the areas of the old floor that groaned the most, hopping from one foot to the other until you reached the vampire’s bedroom.

You leaned into the door, turning the handle slowly and hoping the thing gave way without a sound. It swung wide, the scent of fresh-cut flowers punching you in the face. You paused at the threshold; lip worried between your teeth as you scanned the room. You thought you’d prepared for everything, weapons at the ready, senses dialed to eleven—but you had never once considered the interior of the vampire’s room.

The space was light and open, a splash of soft pastels, gold, and plush velvet. Gauzy curtains swayed in the breeze from the open balcony doors, the thick, heavy blackout curtains pulled far back. There were white roses everywhere, no surface left untouched by a vase of at least a dozen or so. A massive bed encased in pintucked velvet in a soft lilac color lay against the far wall, its gold filigree headboard stretching halfway up the vaulted walls. Above, a chandelier adorned with crystals and sculpted roses hung in a circle of ornate plasterwork.

The idiot vampire lived in some Marie Antionette Rococo nightmare. But that didn’t trouble you the most. Of all the ridiculous things that made up Terzo’s bedroom, there was one particularly important thing that was missing: him.

The bed was suspiciously empty, a mountain of decorative pillows still in place like it hadn’t yet been touched. You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh heaving from your lungs. As if the vampire needed to be more annoying, he had completely ruined your plan. Another quick look past the dark doorway of his bathroom confirmed he wasn’t in his suite. Unless he was somewhere lying in wait for you.

You gripped the stake at your back, slowly sliding it out of your waistband when you heard it. As you moved toward the balcony, a soft, melodic voice floated up from below. There was no way it could have belonged to the irritating hundreds of years old vampire, and yet there he was barefoot in the garden singing a solemn tune.

It was beautiful.

Quickly, you retreated from his room, snaking your way down the marble stairs and through the empty ballroom. Killing the vampire on the lawn wasn’t your preferred method, but he forced your hand. A steady chant of now or never repeated in your head with each step as you bounded off the terrace toward him. You reached behind you, fingers secured around the stake as you moved closer.

Terzo stopped singing and cast a weary glance in your direction before shaking his head. He turned his attention back to the delicate blooms of the soft pink peonies that lined this section of the gardens, kneeling in front of them. “It’s late, bellezza,” he said quietly, running a finger through the petals of an open flower. “You should be in bed.”

“Technically, it’s early,” you countered. “Shouldn’t you be inside? The sun is about to come up.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, dolce. A little sun won’t hurt me. Come, sit.”

You shifted from one foot to the other, weighing your options.

“I won’t bite,” he offered with a coquettish grin.

Stupid fucking vampires.

“What are you even doing out here?” you asked as you dropped onto the grass next to him. Carefully, you folded your legs under, a hand coming to rest just above the syringe. He could move faster than you, but fuck if you weren’t going to put up a fight if you had to.

“What are you doing out here?”

“My job?”

He snorted at that. “Sì, I forgot. Hired to babysit a grown man.”

“What’s your definition of grown?”

“What’s yours?”

“I mean, I thought you’d at least be able to dress yourself,” you teased, gesturing toward the vampire’s overly casual crop top and tiny shorts.

He smiled as he stretched out on the lawn. “You’re welcome to borrow anything you’d like.”

“Hard pass.”

He shrugged. “You’re the one sleeping in your jeans, bellezza.”

“I don’t—you know what? No.” You moved to stand, but the vampire wrapped a hand around your wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry, bellezza.” He let go of you and sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t do much of anything right these days.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you always so fucking maudlin?”

He scrunched up his face in deep thought. “No, actually. This is somewhat new for me.”

“What? Forlornly walking through the gardens at night while singing isn’t your favorite pastime?”

“My brothers would like you, dolce,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “I am sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” you admitted. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

He cracked another smile, his head lolling over to look at you. “Why would you? You said yourself we don’t know each other.”

“You’d be surprised what I’ve learned about you in the last few days.”

“Would I?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow. “Tell me, dolce. What is it you think you know?”

“Oh, you know,” you started, holding yourself back from mentioning the whole 900 year old vampire thing. “You can’t sleep without the TV on. All your comfort films involve a woman falling in love in a small town she doesn’t want to be in, but learns to love by way of handyman dick—”

“That doesn’t tell you anything!”

“It tells me you’re anxious about something, otherwise why would you rewatch the same three movies with the same basic plot on a fucking loop for a week? Which, by the way, you should probably get your hearing checked too.”

He frowned at you as he sat up, pulling a handful of grass from the lawn and letting the blades fall through his fingers. “So what?”

“So, nothing. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just an observation. But if mystery millionaire bachelor is what you’re looking for, it’s not really what you’re giving off.”

He laughed softly to himself as he stood. He leaned down, plucking one of the beautiful peonies from the garden and held it out to you. He raised an eyebrow as you hesitated to take the thing from him before relenting. “You’re not as mysterious as you think you are either. Good night, bellezza.”

You turned to watch the insufferable ass saunter back inside his ridiculous mansion. Terzo Emeritus knew nothing about you. You’d made sure of that before you arrived. Whatever he thought he knew was all part of the bullshit cover story you landed on his front door with.

You groaned and flopped onto the grass; limbs splayed every which way. You were letting the vampire get in your head, something you absolutely could not afford to do. You had eighteen hours to come up with a better plan.

Pretend everything was normal. Go about your day as scheduled while avoiding the vampire as much as you could. The plan you settled on wasn’t the most inventive, but it was better than acting on impulse and getting yourself killed. You neatly tucked away the weapons from the night before, slipping them under your pillow to hold while you slept. It did little to comfort you, but at least they were there. Now you had nothing to keep you safe, just an empty hope that the vampire would leave you alone.

If only your stupid job wasn’t to tend to him.

You knocked on his bedroom door, pausing to wait for a response. The house was quiet again, the loud sounds of the TV dulled somewhere around noon. With no sign of the vampire, you sighed and pushed your way into the ridiculous room. The vampire was there, stretched out on his stomach on the bed that might as well have been a fucking wedding cake in an outfit that could not have been comfortable.

Who the fuck lounges around in leather pants?

You cleared your throat, but Terzo made no move to acknowledge you. “Um, didn’t you hear me knocking?”

“Yes,” he said sharply and turned the page of the book he was holding. “Can’t you see me ignoring you? Now, go away. I’m busy,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

You moved further into the room, squinting at the cover of the book. A handsome cowboy dressed in red stared back at you with a damsel in distress pinned to his side. “I can see that. Moving on to romance novels, huh?”

He looked over the top of the book, an increasingly familiar deep frown setting into the lines of his face paint. “Is that why you’re here, bellezza? You wish to be romanced?”

You coughed out a laugh. “By who? You?”

The frown reached his eyebrows, a crease forming between them. “I don’t think anyone has ever laughed at me before.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re really, really not my type.”

He nodded, his expression relaxing as he raised one eyebrow. “Ah, sì. Women?”

“No…well, ok, yes. Sometimes.”

Women? Sure. Vampires? Never.

He shrugged easily. “I would not judge you, bellezza. I have had many adventures in my day—”

“Ok! I don’t want to hear about your depraved sex life—”

“Depraved?!”

“Oh my god. I’m not doing this,” you huffed. “Do you want clean sheets or not?”

“Oh!” He perked up immediately and hopped off the bed, his sour mood disappearing as his feet hit the floor. “Are they still warm?”

“I—maybe?”

“Grazie mille, fiorellina,” he sang as he swept past you. He reached over and pressed his finger against your nose, grinning as you swiped at him. “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone, eh?”

Oh, you were going to fucking kill him.

Night fell on Meliora House. The moon, round and full, reflected off the calm ocean just beyond the reach of the grounds. You stared out at the water, lingering just a beat longer in the window of the sitting room, surrounded by the opulence of a forgotten era. It may have been a giant waste of money, but the house was starting to grow on you. Even more reason to make a move and get the fuck out as fast as you could.

Stilted dialogue backed by a Christmas tune bounced down the hall, signaling the vampire was at least in his room. You traced your steps back, skipping the creaking spots just as you’d done the night before. This time, you were better prepared. Armed with weapons strapped to your thighs and loaded syringes tucked into your boots, you quietly slipped through the door.

Bursts of red and green color lit the room, flashes dancing from the screen on the wall. Terzo lay motionless atop a mountain of pillows and blankets, cradled in the kind of luxurious comfort only he could afford. He would have looked so peaceful if it weren’t for the man leaning over him, a stake raised high over the vampire’s heart.

There was no time to think about your actions. You hurled yourself across the room, vaulting off the edge of the bed to slam the sole of your boot into the other hunter’s face. He stumbled backward, a sickening grin sliding across his face as he spat out your name.

Who the fuck?

It was enough of a distraction for him to land a solid blow to your gut. Of all the fucking ways this whole operation could have gone wrong. Part of you expected another hunter to show up eventually, but you were so sure you’d be gone, and the vampire would be dead before you had to worry about it. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t seem interested in combining forces.

You worked too hard to get yourself here. All that training and research and torment you fought through and for what? For someone else to show up and take it from you? You weren’t going to let that happen.

Your opponent swung fast, catching your lip and splitting it before you could pivot away. But he was young, inexperienced, and too quick to celebrate, letting himself get carried away enough that he didn’t expect the blow you landed at his ribs or the next. You blocked and dodged, feet moving fast as he came at you. The heel of your palm snapped his nose, sending him to his knees.

“Terzo!” you shouted as you turned. Your stomach dropped as the vampire failed to move or acknowledge you at all. That little fucker had poisoned him.

Your attacker lunged at you, knocking you off your feet and sending you crashing to the floor. Your chest burned as you struggled to catch your breath, struggled to pull yourself away from the other hunter. He had you pinned, blood splattering from his nose and onto your face as he closed a hand around your throat. You clawed at his wrist, feet kicking wildly as he denied you air. He smiled down at you as he pushed the silver tip of the stake against your skin.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked cruelly, shifting his weight to press the weapon to your sternum. “Are you trying to save him?”

Your answer was little more than a shout, the piece of metal now dangerously close to snapping the bone.

A pained cry left your lips, the sting of metal slicing into your chest as the weigh on top of you doubled. Over your screaming assailant’s shoulder, Terzo’s mismatched eyes locked on yours. His expression was feral and predatory, maybe a touch protective as he opened his mouth wide. You closed your eyes as tight as you could, not wanting to see. You heard it all—the sound his fangs made as they cut into the flesh of the man’s neck. The grunt of pain that left your attacker as the artery burst under the pressure of the vampire’s teeth. Hot, thick blood spilled over your face and neck, crashing like a copper-scented wave but you didn’t dare look. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

The weight lifted from your chest, finally allowing you to take a full breath. The air around you was soaked in the disgusting taste of blood, that metallic twinge that coated the entire room. You finally opened your eyes to find Terzo standing over you, the lifeless body of a vampire hunter still clutched in his grasp.

Red dripped onto everything around you, pouring freely from the space where the vampire had bitten your attacker. It dribbled out of the man’s throat and onto the vampire’s bare chest and down, staining the silk of Terzo’s pajama bottoms as he drank from the man for what felt like hours. When he’d finally had his fill, he tossed the body aside, careful to keep it from falling back on you.

You wanted to run. You needed to run, but your body was in such a state of shock that you couldn’t push yourself up. Once all that adrenaline wore off, you knew you were in for a world of hurt if Terzo didn’t kill you first.

But he didn’t make a move to attack you. Instead, he offered you a hand that you were too shaken to take. He bent down and hoisted you to your feet without a second thought or seemingly any effort at all. You swallowed hard, realizing you were chest-to-chest with what you’d been taught was a soulless monster.

And he’d saved you.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, drowning out the sound of his voice as he poked and prodded at you. The sting of your tongue running over your busted lip combined with the sharp taste of blood—your own and whoever the fuck that guy was—brought you back to your disturbing reality.

Terzo wasn’t going to kill you.

“Did—did you just save my life?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the hunter’s hand squeezing your throat.

“It only seemed right since you were trying to save mine,” he countered.

“I—”

“It’s nothing, bellezza—”

You cut him off by slamming your mouth against his. It was an ugly, brutal action, barely capable of being called a kiss, but the way his arms locked around your waist told you he didn’t care. Without a word, he pulled you into the massive bathroom, the horrible pink tiles sending a shock to your brain.

He moved away from you just long enough to reach into the shower and turn the taps. He returned, hands moving fast to pull your bloody clothes from your body. He smirked at the sound of your favorite knife clattering against the floor as his pants joined the mess of material on the floor. He picked you up, maneuvering you under the stream of hot water, the red slowly washing away from your bodies. Steam began to rise in the little glass room, the air thick and humid as Terzo pressed you against the wall. His mouth was on your neck, his tongue and teeth dancing playfully against your skin. You gripped fistfuls of his hair, a low moan leaving his throat as you pulled him off.

“No biting,” you ordered flatly.

“I wasn’t—"

“Bullshit you weren’t.” You let a hand fall away from the hair on his head, opting to run it through the patch on his chest that grew thicker as you trailed further down. His eyes snapped shut, mouth forming an O shape as you wrapped your fingers around his annoyingly impressive length. Slowly, you pumped his cock in your fist, squeezing as you reached the base.

“Don’t tease, bellezza,” he growled as he crowded you against the shower wall. He pressed his lips to a space below your ear, working at it until he coaxed a soft moan out of you. He reached between you, fingers brushing yours as they dipped into your entrance. He urged your leg around his hip with his other hand as his thumb lazily pressed against your clit.

“Now who’s teasing,” you hissed, trying to angle your hips for better contact.

He grinned as he pulled away and placed his hands on either side of your head, trapping you under him. “Così bella.”

Your eyes met his. “Are you going to keep being weird or are you going to fuck me?”

He rolled his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh as he dropped his arms. “No patience, bellezza.”

Whatever argument you were about to make died in your throat, replaced by a surprised squeal as he picked you up. Your legs locked around him, back resting against the warm tiles as he lined himself up and slid the head of his cock through your folds. He pressed against your entrance, a slight whimper leaving your mouth as your cunt stretched around him. He kept his eyes trained on where he slowly disappeared inside you, his grip tightening with each push and pull. He slowly pumped into you, taking his time before burying himself completely.

He closed his eyes, letting his head rest against your shoulder as your body adjusted to the fullness of his cock.

“Terzo?”

He snapped his hips forward, a slick smile gracing his face as your eyes rolled back. He set a rough pace, his fingers pressing bruises into your hips as he held you there. He fucked you against the wall, pounding into you until you were whining and begging.

“Terzo, I—”

He angled himself just right, finding that perfect spot inside you that made you shut up. You had never come so hard or so fast in your entire life, but you locked your arms tight around his neck as stars danced in your vision. And he was just as content to repeat the action, trying to coax the next orgasm from you while his thrusts began to stutter.

“I—” he choked out.

“S’fine,” you mumbled, too blissed out to care. “Don’t stop.”

He nodded once, his pace picking up as he pressed his face against your shoulder. He came with a low moan, his cock emptying pulse after pulse into you as the water began to run cold. Clarity hit you both as he lifted his head, those mismatched eyes locking onto yours.

“I—we should—” he started nervously, moving to set you down.

“Yeah. Ok,” you agreed stupidly as you cleared your throat.

Absolutely not how the summer was supposed to go.

thank you for your time! please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! xo Ghouls

#my writing #my fics #suck club forever #papa emeritus iii x female reader #vampire terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #vampire terzo x reader

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