#also if you're reading this mel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

piscespetals · 10 months

Text

summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. read part one here and two here

content: angst, more lesbian disaster

word count: 6k

Chapter 4 should be up next weekend!

Chapter Three

Apologizing is hard for you...

You have too much pride—too much ego.

Apologizing displays a depth of vulnerability that you've never quite been good at.

With Mel, it's easy. Because besides your parents, she’s the only other person that's been a constant in your life. Besides your parents, she’s the only person that has stayed—that has loved you—despite all of your flaws.

You haven't known Sevika for long. In fact, you can argue that she probably knows you more than you know her.

From the very beginning, you made an effort to show her all of your faults. She ultimately gets on your nerves at times, the Monica situation excluded, with her being bossy and too clean and too nit picky. In the past, she’s voiced her opinion of you being slightly loud, and easily bothered, and easily distracted. There’s fundamental differences between the two of you—differences that you picked up on within the first week of living together. Differences that should make you want to chew each other’s heads off.

Yet she still wakes up every morning and eats breakfast with you.

She still listens to your endless rants about your workplace drama.

She still shows you grace when you forget to unload the dishwasher, during the times you accidentally play your music a bit too loud, and during the moments you disrupt her sleep for an ice cream run.

Apologizing is hard for you, but when it comes to Sevika, it's easy.

She makes a lot of things easy for you, even when you don't want to admit it.

Even when you know that you make everything so much harder for her.

That's why you're overcome with guilt for the rest of that night.

Every atom in your body screams for you to march across your flat and make things right. After all, you've had many disagreements with Sevika but never this. Never something so hurtful.

So that's what you do. 45 minutes have passed since you’ve stormed into your room, and 45 minutes is how long it takes for you to wipe your tears and open your bedroom door. You're trying to calm your breathing and unblur your vision when you stumble through the pitch black apartment.

You stub your toe on a piece of furniture, which causes you to curse and halt your steps before you force yourself to limp the rest of the way.

It’s only when you reach Sevika’s bedroom that you realize her door is halfway shut, and her lights are off. Your knock is met with dragging silence. Then you knock again and there’s no reply.

Frowning, you crack open her door, “Sev?” Your voice echoes off of the walls.

Switching on the lights, your heart plummets when you see that the room is empty. You check her bathroom—also empty—and her balcony with rising panic. But it's to no avail.

When did she leave?

You're usually able to hear the closing and opening of the apartment door from where your bedroom is located. You're certain that you would have heard her. There's never a time when you don't.

“Sev?”

The answering silence makes your chest hollow.

And it's only when you're swallowed by soul-crushing despondency when you realize the true weight of tonight’s quarrel.

When you text Sevika, wondering about her whereabouts, she takes her time to reply. The message marks as read for 42 agonizing minutes before you receive a simple word:

Out.

Your stomach tugs and your heart drops, because you know that there’s not much else you can say before overstepping boundaries.

Sevika is receptive to almost everything that you dish out, but you aren't quite sure she'd handle clingy as well as she does your other traits.

It’s barely been two months.

You don't want to suffocate her.

Similarly, sending an apology text seems low. Disingenuous.

Not only is that cheap but it’s the last thing she deserves. You’ll apologize in person, when she’s home and (hopefully) in better spirits. You’ll make a whole ordeal out of it: order her favorite pizza, some beer and butter her up with nauseating kindness.

Yes—that’s it.

That’ll do the trick.

For now, you’ll allow her to cool off. You’ll give her the night. You’ll give her space.

And when dawn strikes, you’ll push away your pride and make it your mission to win back her good graces.

But the issue is that Sevika never returns.

When you wake in the morning, you're greeted with the chirping of birds by your window. Your bedside clock reads 9:16 AM; an hour that Sevika is usually awake for.

After washing your face and teeth, you expect to see her hovering over the toaster while the kitchen television streams the morning news. You've grown accustomed to that kind of morning. During these past two months, you've caught yourself wondering how it's taken nearly two decades for you to find that kind of peace.

But today’s not that.

The toaster sits untouched and unplugged, kitchen lights off as well as the television, and apartment Sevika-less.

Your mouth twists as a low huff escapes you.

Okay. Maybe you were being unrealistic to think that she’d return first thing in the morning.

Lunch time is more practical.

Except noon rolls around and she’s still gone. You have to leave for work in a few hours, and you begin to feel uneasy by the shrinking window of Sevika’s arrival. You feel like you’re running out of time. You feel like you won’t be able to make things right if she doesn't return before you leave.

You don't want to do this tomorrow.

You don't want to experience the agonizing misery of waiting for each hour of your shift to tick by tonight; wondering, hoping, that she’s already home.

And maybe that's a little selfish—because you shouldn't be apologizing for the sole reason of lessening your guilt. You should be apologizing because it’s the right thing to do. Because that is the least she deserves.

So, you swallow your guilt and head towards your balcony. Maybe some fresh air will help clear your mind.

It’s 11:45 PM when you hear jostling from the entrance door.

You pause the movie on your laptop, craning your neck to get a better listen.

That familiar click resonates through your room before you hear the creaking of the hinges. Your breath hitches, eyes widening and chills running along the hair of your spine.

She’s home.

Suddenly, your pre-planned speech is thrown out the window.

Your feet are taking you across the floorboards before you can fully register what is happening. You think that you are about to throw up from the amount of anxiety currently flowing through you right now. You don’t believe you’ve been this worried about someone’s absence throughout your entire adult life.

“Sev?” You call.

There’s shuffling in the hallway, which spikes your heart to an unprecedented rate.

There she stands, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and beanie on her head. She's toeing out of her boots, breathing slightly labored and hallway filled with her cologne. There’s a chilling presence about her, probably from the cold temperatures from outside, but it makes you freeze nonetheless.

The only indication that she’s heard you is when her movements slow upon your approach. But she doesn’t look up.

“Sev?” You call again, this time quieter.

Where’s that impish smile that makes you want to roll your eyes and hug her breathless at the same time?

She begins to shrug off her coat.

“I was worried.” You add. Tentative. Scared.

You watch apprehensively as she hangs her coat on the garment rack. Her back is facing you. It stretches upon movement; broadening and flexing through the material of her peach button up.

You didn’t know that she had packed a bag.

The thought creates layers of unsettling emotions.

“....Nothing to be worried about.” Sevika replies. But despite her reassurance, her tone remains unwelcoming. Your eyes fall shut momentarily as you fight off a wave of remorse. There’s the slightest bit of warmth that spreads across your shoulder. When you open your eyes, you realize that she’s brushed past you.

Her footsteps travel towards the other end of the apartment, where the kitchen resides.

You follow after her, desperate to say anything–to do anything that will relieve this tension.

“I’m sorry.”

Your apology wavers; the crack of an iceberg.

“I really am,” You continue, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Her arms are folded as she leans her weight against the counter. “...I was being so ridiculous. I mean truly, Sev. I don’t want…” You’re shaking your head. “I don’t want something like this to come between us.”

Her gaze remains planted on the floor. She purses her lips, expression purely contemplative. Then, “Why don’t you like her?”

“I never said I don’t…like her.”

That’s when she peers up at you, lips twisting into a scowl and eyebrows furrowing.

Your hands raise defensively and you sigh. “Okay, okay.” You shift your weight, struggling to recover from the ice in her stare. “Sev, I’m sorry for how I acted. Truly. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t bring her around. I want you to feel comfortable. This is home. Your home.”

Her glare warms by a small degree. But she doesn’t relent. “Why don’t you like her?”

Your lips part. You’ve been backed into a corner.

You have to answer. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” She parrots, voice low and disbelieving. Accusatory. Her head tilts, grey irises inspecting every inch of your face. “I don’t believe you.” She shakes her head. “Try again.”

“I don’t know if I can tell you.” You rephrase. “If I should tell you.”

Immediately, she pushes off the counter and grows closer. Her hands fall into the front pockets of her jeans, neck hanging to look down at you. Your jaw locks shut, keeping you from speaking and saying anything more. Sevika stays that way for a long time, never really moving any closer but also never pulling away.

When you break your gaze, you notice that her hands are working their way in and out of fists.

“Will you let me apologize to you first?” You ignore the bobbing of your achy throat and the burning of your eyes. You can't cry. That won't solve anything.

“You already did.”

“Well, I truly am sorry.”

“I heard.”

“And I’ve missed you.”

The corner of her lip twitches. “It’s barely been 24 hours.”

“Still missed you.”

She hums. Acknowledgement. That’s a good sign.

“I have a tendency to, uh, overreact sometimes.” You clear your throat. “I was being really fucking ridiculous. An idiot. I mean, really, I realize how unnecessary this all was and that we’re too old for this.”

Another moment of hesitation lapses into the conversation. It’s not as heavy as before, but still intensifies the standstill that you two have reached.

“I’m sorry.” You add.

Those words, a cry in your throat, have been haunting you all day.

You’ve never been the sort of individual to apologize easily.

But right now, as you stand in front of Sevika, you realize that it’s as effortless as blinking.

You’ll apologize for the rest of the night if she asks you to.

“You’re an idiot. You know that right?” There’s a smile playing at Sevika’s lips. She reaches forward and pinches your nose; something that she likes to do to annoy you. You groan as you try to breathe through your mouth.

“I’m the worst idiot ever,” The tone of your voice is now disgustingly nasally. “Who's incredibly sorry and will do anything to ma-”

“If you keep apologizing, I’ll burn your toast tomorrow morning.”

“Oh no. Burnt toast. How frightening.”

In the morning, your toast is warm and spread with butter. Your tea is sweeter than usual too.

The 9 o’clock news plays on the kitchen television.

You hold onto your mug tightly. Sevika is beside you, the sound of her even breaths reminding you of the beauty in sweet, suspenseless mornings.

You blink through heavy eyelids, muscles still fatigued when she turns to you and says, “Will you apologize to Monica too?”

And you’re slightly gutted by that.

It’s a question that you knew she’d ask.

It’s a reasonable thing to want.

But still…

You’d be lying if you said that this entire predicament didn’t make you feel sick.

But you have no one to blame other than yourself.

This is the sensible solution.

“Yes,” You respond, giving her one short nod. “I’ll apologize to her.”

And you do.

The first half of the apology begins with a terrible pot of Chili that you try to make as a peace offering. You manage to botch it half way through.

Sevika ends up helping. Everytime she peers at your face, she snickers. At one point, you catch her muttering that she, “Doesn’t know what to do with you.”

When Monica arrives, it’s awkward. You stand off to the side as Sevika hugs and kisses her. Then, when Monica turns to you, you give her a small smile and wave. Her greeting isn’t nearly as cordial, which says a lot. But you figure that you deserve it. After all, you haven't been very welcoming to her.

When Sevika leaves momentarily—to buy some beer from the store—you take that as an opportunity to apologize. Monica is scrolling on her phone silently, sitting in one of the dining room chairs.

She peers up at you with large eyes when you approach her. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, which is mostly my fault. And I’m really sorry for that. Do you think, maybe, we can start over?”

She regards you for a few moments, jaw clenching and unclenching before she says, “I accept your apology.”

Your smaller smile stretches into a bigger one.

“But,” She adds. “I think that it was truly unfair that you didn't give me a proper chance to know you. At first, I thought it was me. I realize now that it has everything to do with Vika, and I think that's sad. I think that she probably shouldn't be staying with someone who is willing to impede on her happiness so much. But I also think,” Her lips tug into the ghost of a smirk. “That if I was in love with my roommate and had to watch her find happiness with another woman, that I too would become bitter.

“So, yes, I accept your apology.” Monica continues. “But I hope you can understand that I have no desire to be friends with you. We can be cordial on Vika’s behalf. But only that.”

Your thumb absentmindedly fiddles with the plate of your belt. You wonder, for the umpteenth time, how you've gotten yourself into such a predicament. And it almost feels like a flock of self-wallowing birds are surrounding you at that moment. You bear through the pitiful feeling nonetheless and give her a curt nod.

“Okay,” You respond. “Cordial is fine with me.”

Later in the night, when Mel has left and Sevika bolts the door shut, she asks, “How did the apology go?”

You hesitate for a moment, brain replaying all of the words that Monica spewed. You feel a familiar weight press into the center of your chest, and your skin prickles as realization dawns on you.

But you can't allow Sevika to pick up on it. You can allow her to see you like this. So you clear your throat and blink through blurry vision.

“It went well.” You pull your blanket up to your chin, stretching your legs out on the living room recliner. “She accepted it.”

The fridge opens. You hear shuffling.

“That's great!”

Yeah.

Great.

“You know I love you,” Mel begins. “But what the fuck.”

You wince, bracing yourself for the reprimanding that is sure to come. This is the very reason why you’ve been avoiding telling Mel everything that has happened. Usually you are able to talk to her about dilemmas that you’ve put yourself in. But something about this feels different. Besides the fact that you almost royally fucked up your friendship with Sevika, there’s another emotion lingering within you–something heavier–that’s been making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

You take another bite into your pizza, allowing your silence to be an answer within itself.

“I think we need to address the elephant in the room,” Mel says.

You're shaking your head before she can even finish her sentence. You already know where this is going.

“There’s nothing to address.”

“From the first night I introduced you to Sev, when you were giggling with her on the couch like a schoolgirl—”

“Oh my god.”

“I spotted it from day 1, that you two being roommates would either end really great or…really badly.”

“Mel,” Your eyes squint shut once more as you grimace. “No. It’s not like that.”

“How else could it be? You put two lesbians that want to fuck each other in the same apartment and all hell breaks loose.”

“She has a girlfriend.”

“Which just makes it worse!” An incredulous chuckle leaves her as she begins to rub her temples. She’s sitting in the recliner chair in the corner of the living room while you’re sprawled out on the loveseat.

Sevika is at work, which has given you the perfect opportunity to catch up with Mel. And despite the fact that you hate how candid Mel’s being, you know that you need to hear it.

She’s always been your voice of reason.

“Are you going to say something to her?” You mumble, gazing up at the ceiling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her shift in the chair. She hugs her knees to her chest.

“Of course not. You need to figure out whatever the hell this is without any meddlers.”

You shrug. “I wouldn't mind a little bit of meddling.”

“You're doing that thing where you ignore your emotions until you absolutely can't anymore.” Mel sighs. “Unless you want shit to blow up in your face for real, I suggest you come to terms with your feelings towards Sevika and find a way to deal with them. Healthily.”

She’s right.

A huff leaves you. “I prefer my way, you know…”

She snorts. “Your way will have you roommate-less and heartbroken.”

“...You really think Sev would leave? Permanently?”

“Well, I don't know.” She feigns shock, palm sprawling across her chest. “It's not like I haven't known Sevika through the in’s and outs of her parents death and real estate issues, and divorce. No—I totally have no idea that she’s been through enough—”

Your body shoots up. “Wait.”

“...You're right. You should asolutely continue to terrorize her girlfriend and be, quite possibly, the worst roommate that could ever happen to her. For fucks sake babe. Wake up! I mean, truly, after everything she’s been through, don’t you think she deserves—”

“Mel.”

“...If I was her, I would have packed my bags too. I love you. But do you realize how infuriating you can be? I thought I psychoanalyzed you enough in our friendship but clearly it hasn't been very eff—”

“Mel!” Your voice cracks, embarrassingly so, which causes you to clear your throat.

Your brain begins to short circuit as you try to hold onto the remnants of all the information she's just fed you. It processes and processes, and your world spins around you. You feel like you’ve just found the last wedge of a 500 piece puzzle; the full picture is finally complete.

“Sevika’s divorced?”

You never would have thought that Sevika was a romantic. Not romantic enough to be married, at least. And surely, not a divorcee. She’s tight lipped about a few things, her past relationships being one of them, but you always chalked it up to the possibility of her being reserved.

It's a weird feeling to be shocked by such a revelation. It's merely a divorce.

But you feel like that piece of information holds weight.

Because Sevika has told you a lot of things, including the intricate details of her parents death, yet has seemed to leave out the entire fact that she’s been married.

For some reason, she hasn't wanted you to discover that part of herself.

That's all the more reason why you feel guilty. Because, not only have you found it out, but Mel is the one to have told you. Surely, that wouldn't make Sevika feel the best.

“You didn't know that?” Mel looked at you with an odd expression.

“No,” You were feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny.

Mel’s response was delayed. She gazed at you further, eyebrows furrowing and lips frowning, before she muttered, “Oh.”

Then she dropped the subject, probably because she didn't want to accidentally spill any more of Sevika’s secrets to you.

Later that night, Alicia is invited over for dinner. She walks in with two bottles of wine and a cheeky grin. She hugs you obnoxiously tight.

“I see that you and Sev finally made up!” She exclaims. This calls for a celebration! Hip! Hip-”

“Ugh,” You groan. “Really, A?”

“Yeah, seriously, hun.” Mel interrupts. “The energy’s a bit too much. Can you lower it a few notches?”

Something bad must have happened.

There’s that feeling in the pit of your stomach materializing again; a horrible mixture of panic and existential dread.

And that feeling spikes when a loud horn sounds. It's painfully close; close enough to split your eardrums in half.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Hello? Oh my god. Are you okay?”

For some reason, that question isn't enough to alert you. You're too focused on the blur of colors you're seeing.

“Hello?”

You lean back against your seat and the blaring horn comes to a halt. You had been laying on your steering wheel.

Then you remember it all at that moment.

You were supposed to be going to the store. You had convinced Sevika to stay home because she had been doing the bulk of the chores lately and that was making you feel guilty. It had only been three weeks since the two of you made up, but you found yourself still wanting to apologize to her in the smallest ways.

You were driving with your window down and had come to a four-way stop. A butterfly fluttered towards you and perched itself on your nose.

It was a vibrant orange butterfly, with bold black stripes and white dots. After that, everything began to grow fuzzy. Were you supposed to be moving? Your foot was on the gas but you hadn't remembered moving it there. You must have been moving. You weren’t paying attention. You should have been, but you weren’t. The butterfly had distracted you.

Pretty soon, a car was hurtling towards you on your right, too fast to be able to slow down. The both of you crashed.

Now, the driver is standing right outside your vehicle, trying to gain your attention.

“Are you okay?” They call again.

You blink once more. Subconsciously, you try to bring your right arm up to your face. Nothing happens.

You lift your left hand to your face, sighing in relief when a pair of callused fingers fall directly onto your eyes. You’re still alive.

“Are you alright? Please answer me.”

Another knock.

“I’m calling 911.”

You don’t like hospitals.

One time, your mom had taken you to the ER due to severe stomach pains. You were 12 years old. It felt like someone was trying to slice your belly open with a machete. You spent hours in the waiting room doubling over and clutching your stomach. Your mom sat beside you, lips permanently pulled into a thin line. She went on about how much of an inconvenience this night had been; that she was tired from working a 12 hour shift and was hungry. She also threw in a comment about how much this ER appointment would financially cost.

The longer you both sat in the waiting room, the more agitated she became.

“I can't catch a break.” She had muttered. You struggled to understand if she was angry at you or anxious for you. Or maybe she was projecting due to the long day she had at work. You didn't fully know. All you could recognize was that she was in some kind of distress. “I just hope nothing serious is going on.” Then her hand fell to your back, lightly rubbing circles into it.

Your eyes prickled with tears during that moment. But you didn't know if it was due to the pain or the immense guilt you felt for incurring a hospital bill.

The stomach pains eventually began to subside after that. Once a health professional was ready to see you, the pain was quite tolerable. You even struggled to push away the fit of giggles you felt every time the doctor skimmed her fingers across your tummy; feeling for “tenderness.”

After being questioned by her, she told your mom you had trapped gas and dismissed you.

Your mom had been angry. It took a few weeks before she stopped berating you about the amount of money her and dad would have to pay the hospital for “something as simple as trapped gas.”

You weren't sure if she was mad at you or the hospital. Your mom often grew upset like that but you could never quite understand who she meant to direct her feelings to. After those weeks passed, you began to assume yourself as the fault for most of her moods.

The following month, you dealt with really bad stabs of pain in your legs. Everytime you wanted to open your mouth to tell your mom, you were instead flooded with memories from the night you had trapped gas. Then you would close your mouth and count to 50 to try and block out the pain.

Any health concern after that was something that you tried to ignore. Whether it was illnesses or crying spells, you often hid in your room until you could collect yourself. Then you would re-emerge in the living room where Mom and Dad often were.

By the age of 14, it took you a while to notice your body cues. It was sophomore year of highschool when Tasha Koshman, one of your classmates, accidentally broke your left ankle during the soccer unit of P.E. She was 6 foot and 2 inches. Tasha had one of the strongest bodies you had ever seen—pure muscle—and was one of the star players on the varsity football team. During the soccer game, she tried to kick the ball into the goal. But instead, she missed and her foot slammed right into your ankle. You heard a snap. There was a sharp pain—and then nothing at all. You fell to the ground.

Tasha carried you–bridal style–to the nurse’s office. She wouldn't shut up the entire time. Her eyes swimmed with worry, and a combination of sweat and tears dripped from her chin and onto your shirt.

You supposed it was a bit freaky for her to know that she could do such a thing to another human without even trying. She apologized profusely during that 8 minute walk across campus.

“There, there.” You mumbled. You used your left hand to pat her shoulder reassuringly. This was how you often saw TV characters consoling one another on shows. “Don’t worry. The bone will heal back together eventually.”

The creases in her forehead deepened.

Tasha cried harder.

You knew it was bad that you didn't feel much of the pain. But finding out the reason for that meant another healthcare visit and therefore another bill.

Your parents definitely wouldn't appreciate that.

You were 22 when you met Mel. She worked at the same elementary school that you were volunteering at. She was one of the administrators in the front office.

The work relationship between you two developed into a budding friendship, and then a perfect roommate dynamic.

Throughout the ten years of Mel being your roommate, she never made fun of you for crying. In fact, you have her to thank for identifying your emotional constipation.

Mel also was the one who’d take you to the doctor whenever you’d fall ill. She was annoyingly maternal the entire time and probably lectured you a bit too much. It was something you were skeptical of at first. But you soon grew to be fond of it because you knew that it came from a place of love.

She'd usually never leave your side until you felt better.

You never told her, but gestures like that meant the world to you.

"Does this hurt you at all?" The doctor asks you. She's staring at you with big and round brown eyes. Her eyelashes are coated with electric blue mascara. Pretty.

Outside the room, there’s a rush of loud screaming sounds. The word intubate gets passed around by a pair of voices. The interruption fades just as quickly as it comes.

You hum unintelligibly. Your blinks are slow as your gaze drags down to the way her pudgy fingers delicately feel for injuries.

"Hm." You pause, thoroughly thinking through her question. Are you hurting? "I'm not sure."

There’s a couple of cheesy posters on the walls about the importance of mental health. A bottle of soda sits on a countertop beside the sink.

"Okay." The doctor stares at you for a few more seconds. “Well nothing is broken. All of our scans have come back with no results of serious trauma. Your body is in shock right now. Sometimes I have patients that feel absolutely nothing during a crisis. The brain is able to block out the signals that the body sends during those moments. Isn't that remarkable? Anyways, the adrenaline will probably wear off soon. Victims of car accidents usually encounter some fatigue and muscle aches for a while afterwards. You'll need to have pain medication for then."

When Mel comes flying through the door, she’s sporadic, seemingly out of breath and frazzled.

Tears stream down her cheeks as she rushes towards you. "Oh my god!"

“I’m okay.”

Despite your reassurance, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you into a bone crushing hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m okay,” You parrot, this time gentler. You can’t blame her.

You had called her on the way to the ER and briefly told her what happened. You couldn’t say much because you were still so shaken up, so she was only able to understand a generalization of the car accident. If the roles were reversed, you’d be just as frantic.

“Nothing’s broken,” You continue. Your voice wavers but you figure that’s a normal reaction in a situation like this. “I’m waiting for the doctor to come back. She had to get something… I can’t remember. It was so much information.”

Mel pulls away, cradling your cheeks with the palms of her hands. Her eyes are bloodshot and her bottom lip is split from being chapped. “You scared us so badly. Do you have any idea what Sevika is putting herself through right now?” Then she grimaces and stops herself, gaze unfocusing from you.

Your breathing falters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…’ You struggle to blink away the tears. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I wasn’t in the right state of mind when I had called you. I just knew that I needed to reach out to someone in case it was serious, I didn-”

“I know, I know.” She pulls you in for another hug. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry. You just,” Her voice grows thin and she tightens her grip around you. The squeeze almost knocks you breathless but you don’t have the heart to say anything. “I was scared.”

“I get it.” You swallow thickly, hoping that it’ll help to dissolve the lump at the back of your throat.

The door opens and an ivory-white lab coat comes back into view. The doctor smiles at the pair of you, greeting you by your full name once more. She’s carrying a clipboard in one hand and a ballpoint pen in the other. She mutters a small hi to Mel when she reaches your bed, then she begins jotting something down on the clipboard. “I’m going to send your paperwork over to your GP so they can review everything. I want you to do a check up with him next week, just to make sure everything is okay.” Swiftly, she places the pen back into her coat pocket and sets the clipboard on the edge of the bed. “If you start to feel any excessive sleepiness, confusion or troubles with balance, please come back immediately.”

When you’re released, Mel helps you walk back to the waiting room where Alicia and Sevika are apparently waiting.

You’re grateful to have a friend like her by your side. You don’t quite know what you’d do without Mel; you don’t know how you would have gotten through life if you hadn’t met her at all.

Her arm around you is firm as she guides you through the hospital traffic. Nurses are rushing back and forth between rooms. Curtains are being drawn unexpectedly and there’s even a distant screech from someone. The air reeks of bleach and despair.

You want to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Just down this way.” Mel croaks. Her voice is hoarse from crying so hard.

“Mel,” You begin. “I want to thank you.”

“Not here.”

“You know I don’t have anyone else. You’re my family. You know that, right?”

The door squeaks as she pushes it open. Her eyes are swimming again, gaze avoiding yours, and throat bobbing from swallowing thickly. “I know.” She squeezes you once more. “You’re mine too.”

You rest one of your hands over hers and return the gesture.

The waiting room is filled with people who display similar variations of distress. Alicia is the first one that you recognize. She’s wearing one of her trademark flannels, leaning against the wall while staring up at the ceiling. Her foot is tapping exceptionally fast; hands balled into fists. That’s when you realize that this is the first time you’ve ever seen her look so…grave.

Sevika sits beside her in a chair. At least–the figure looks like Sevika. It’s hard for you to know for sure. The woman is hunched over, head in her hands, and body cloaked by a black trench coat. The coat is familiar. Her hands, which cling to the roots of her hair, are what stand out to you the most.

Alicia see’s you before Sevika, and pushes off the wall with a heavy exhale. “Thank God.”

Mel let’s go as the two of you draw closer to them. Sevika’s head shoots up upon your arrival, eyes locking with yours instantly.

They’re bloodshot red.

Just that sight alone causes something to unwind within you. The knot between your shoulder blades loosen and that ache around your ribcage dissipates. That nagging feeling of danger withdraws and is replaced with unbearable tugging.

Your eyes flood.

Sevika reaches for you, as if she knows, as if she senses the tugging herself. “Fuck.” Her lips barely move, voice laced with sickening horror and relief. “You-” Her breathing stutters.

She stands to her feet, hands wrapping around both of your wrists and pulling you towards her. Your heart refuses to calm down.

Her voice is so quiet that you barely notice it, “You’re here.” When she embraces you, your ear presses against her chest. She’s firm. All firmness.

“I’m here.” The burning in your eyes return and the tears threaten to spill over.

This time, you let them.

Chewing your tongue, you hold your breath and fiddle with the material of your comforter.

You’re hanging on the edge of panic. The air around you feels too thin.

Your forehead gathers with pools of sweat, as well as the back of your neck. And a shiver runs through you, despite feeling pure heat all throughout your veins.

“What the fuck, Vika!”

“It just…” Sevika mumbles. There’s a small lapse of silence. Then, “It’s just not working out.”

Your nerves are shot.

You want to bang your head against the wall. Not that it will help. But you want to do something–anything. This is not what you expected to hear when Sevika told you that Monica would be stopping by for a brief visit. She had slipped into your room to tell you, barely giving you a chance to respond and barely looking you in the eyes, before leaving and closing your bedroom door.

It’s only been a day since the accident and you've never seen Sevika so frayed. She barely left your side last night. And when you finally went to sleep, you’d wake to the sound of her occasionally peeping into your room before she’d subsequently head back to her own.

Sevika is a pretty caring friend.

But she never hovers.

Well–not until now.

“What has changed?” You hear Monica ask. Her voice is muffled from the thickness of the walls. But you’re still able to pick up on how rigid it sounds. “Have I done something wrong? Is it because of what we talked about the other night? If so, I was just joking. Kids are only something I’d want if my part-”

“It’s…” Sevika’s voice is lower than Monica’s. Quieter. You try to crane your neck to hear better. “I would like to explain it all. There’s a few reasons why-”

“Is it because of her?”

Your blood runs backward at the accusation.

Shuffling happens from the other room.

The sound of footsteps draw closer to your room.

“Don’t.” You hear Sevika say.

“Is she here?”

“Monica–”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me, Sevika! I can’t…I won’t do this with her here.”

More shuffling.

The footsteps direct their pace away from your door. You hadn’t even realized that your muscles were tensing until they relax.

“This is unbelievable,” Monica adds. Her voice has raised several decibels, borderline yelling. “Are you fucking her?”

“I’m not–Jesus Christ. I’m not sleeping with her. Let’s talk and I’ll tell you all the reasons–”

“I’m not talking with her here.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else. I’ll drive?”

There’s no reply.

“I’ll explain it all, I swear.” Sevika continues. “I just…I need to be honest with you.”

Dust swirls the air around you as the sun shines through your window. It’s only 10 A.M. It’s only a Tuesday morning.

Two days into the week and so much has already happened.

You sigh, pulling your blanket over your shoulders some more, as you try to register everything that you’re hearing. Sevika wants to break up with Monica? So suddenly?

You’d be lying if you said that you aren’t surprised.

If you were Monica, you’d be gutted.

You jump, completely startled, by your door barging open. Sevika stands in the doorway, dressed fully in her coat and boots. She’s clipping her carabiner to one of her belt loops, brows furrowed and eyes searching yours desperately. Words have run out.

She knows that you’ve heard it all.

“Sev,” It’s a broken mumble since you’re still groggy.

She shakes her head. “I’ll explain when I come back.”

You watch her slip her phone into her back pocket. It makes no sense, the way that life has seemed to flip upside down for the both of you; the way that this past month consisted of more chaos than you’ve ever experienced before.

And yet that tugging from yesterday still remains. But this time, tenfold stronger. So strong that it’s a separate being within itself. Rather than a feeling, it’s become second nature. It takes every fiber in your being to ignore it.

“Why today?” You find yourself countering.

Her lips part, irises burning a silver-fire. The kind of silver that you’d bury yourself in forever if you could.

“I’ll be back soon.” This response is all that she can give for now.

It’s the respectful thing to do.

Monica deserves to hear the answer first; she deserves to hear it without you there.

You understand. “Okay.”

She hovers again. For a few more seconds. “Okay.” She echoes.

You can only stare when she leaves.

And when the apartment door slams shut, you're left to sit there and ponder over what the fuck has just happened.

#why are lesbians like this #when i wrote this chapter it was originally 14k but that's entirely too long so i had to break it up into chapter 4 #piscespetals writing #au writing #sevika #fanfic #sevika x reader #arcane au

268 notes · View notes

pinkthrone445 · 9 months

Text

-Let the wedding bells play One More Time-

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Gary x Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:love, hurt, love

Warnings:Mention of cheating , insults

Summary:I don't wanna spoil it because I think it's good the surprise reading this fic like this.

You were there once again, nervously arranging your coral dress, a simple but beautiful dress. The chapel was beautifully decorated, a different officiant but the same church as years ago when Mel got married to Gary, only it was a completely different situation. Your eyes scanned the crowd from the altar and fell into her, the redhead sitting in the front row of guests instead of by your side, Melissa gave you a litte smile of encouragement, and then looked at her hands, especially the lack of the ring that engaged her to Gary.

The piano began to play and made you stop looking at the redhead to focus your gaze on the entrance of the church, waiting with a big smile for them to open the doors to see the beautiful bride.

-Three years before-

You had just moved out of your old apartment, your temporary exchange was accepted, and you ended up momentarily moving to a new place so you could be closer to your new work. A new home, a new school, new students and a new job, a new beginning that would help you be better, or so you thought.

But so far nothing had made you feel better, it just made you think more about whether it was the right decision or not. You missed everything and everyone so much and it just made you feel worse .

Sitting on your couch looking at your phone, looking at the messages you used to send to the redhead, which you had now blocked, looking at the photos you had together, especially one from her wedding day where it was just you and her, you in your suit and her in her dress, it looked like you had married her. Why did it hurt more to be away from her than to be around and let her hurt you? Why did you think that walking away would be the solution? Everything was still just as painful or worse, you not only moved away from her, but from everyone you knew, you not only felt sad, but also lonely, you missed your co-workers from school and Barbara's good advice, or the game nights with Janine, you missed everything and everyone.

Instead of continuing to drown in your own misery, you decided to drown in alcohol, taking advantage of the fact that in the next day you would work latter than usual.

You knew drinking wasn't the answer, but staying home wouldn't make you feel any better either, so you grabbed your jacket and headed to the nearest bar. The place was full of beautiful women but you just wanted to drink, you didn't even want to start up a simple conversation with someone you had just met and probably wouldn't remember again. The bartender poured you your first drink and by the third you were already a little dizzy watching the others dance, a reddish hair caught your attention, a woman dancing with a tall man with a mustache, made you think of her again. What would she be doing now? Would she be in bed with him? Your eyes went to the hands of the unknown men, as he decisively grasped the waist of the woman who danced with him and as the woman laughed. Will Melissa be happy with him? Calmer now that you're gone? Has your absence hurt her? Had she even noticed your absence? Why, even though you were already half drunk, you couldn't get her out of your head? How many gallons of alcohol and feelings of self-loathing did it take to forget her?

Someone tapping your shoulder made you look away from the couple and out of your thoughts. The bartender came to you smiling and gave you a glass of water when she saw the disgust you carried in your expressions, the beautiful woman had a worried face about you

-"I think if you keep drinking, whatever it is that's torturing you is going to crush in the morning you when you wake up the next day hungover. Drink some water..."-The woman brought the glass closer to you and you smiled and took a little sip

-"Thank you..."-You muttered and the woman stayed next to you on the other side of the bar

-"Want something else? Peanut? Someone to listen to you? A shoulder to cry on?" - The woman joked and you barely laughed

-"I'm fine, it will pass... I hope"-You whispered and she smiled

-"If it doesn't happen, call me and I'll help you forget" - The bartender flirted with you and you smiled more, you'd be lying if you said the beautiful woman didn't catch your attention, but you didn't know if you were ready to go looking for someone else with a broken heart like you had

-"I'm flattered but I don't know if I can be good company right now" - You answered sincerely and she leaned over the bar to be close to you, giving you a good view of her breasts

-"No one is looking for a wedding darling, I'm just saying I'm here if you need a distraction..."-Her voice was more seductive than before as she looked into your eyes biting her lip. Honestly you were about to accept, until a draught of air made her perfume reach your nose, you quickly pulled away and smiled apologetically, it was the same perfume that Melissa used and that made you feel dizzy, you couldn't be with someone who had things that reminded you of the redhead, especially when it had been a short time since you had seen her for the last time. With a bit of embarrassment you turned away from the woman and decided to walk back home as it was nearby.

When you got home, your cell phone lit up with a message from Barbara

-📚Barbs📚:"Hi sweetheart, how it's your new life going?"-

-You: "Hi Barbs... Normal I guess... I miss you guys so much..."

-📚Barbs📚:"we miss you more, the school it's not the same without you..."

-You: "my life it's not the same without you... I don't know if this was worth it, I still feal like shit even if she it's not around me anymore..."-

-📚Barbs📚:"You knew this wouldn't be the solution... Haven't you heard anything from Melissa since you left?"-

-You:"no, I blocked her... Why? Is she okay?"-

-📚Barbs📚:"She seems lost and sad since you left... "-

-You:"I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse..."-

-📚Barbs📚:"Can we call you tomorrow? Everyone here wants to see you..."-

-You:"yeah sure"-

After that, Barbara said goodbye and you went to sleep.

The next day, at recess, you called your colleagues at Abbott, they were all there except Melissa, which made you feel a little pain even though you didn't say anything. Everyone greeted you with great emotion, most of then didn't know the truth, the reason why you left, everyone thought you went because you did an exchange to a place they need it. You talked to them for a while, you found out that Janine and Gregory were officially dating, that Ava had taken a course to know more about being a principal and that Barbara had gotten more inclusive desks for children in wheelchairs. When your hour off was over, you said goodbye to everyone and went to finish your workday.

When you left school you felt sad, seeing them only made you miss them more and question if this was worth it, your coworkers at the new school treated you well, but it was very different from being with your fellows at Abbott. You felt lonely and sad, much more so than when you were near the redhead. This was a new level of pathetic.

A few meters before arriving at your home, that familiar perfume filled your senses again, at first you thought that maybe it was the girl from the bar, but no, at the entrance of your home Melissa was sitting on the stairs. You wanted to turn around and hide until she left, but your surprise prevented you from moving fast and the redhead had already spotted you. The older one got up and almost ran to your side, but you dodged her with a frown trying to open the door to your apartment

-"Hon..."-The redhead's voice felt broken and tired, she looked like that too. Listening to her made you more sad than you were after seeing your friends-"Please...don't run away from me again..."-How was she demanding things after what happened? Why did your hands shake so much you couldn't open the door? What was she doing there? How did she find you? How did she get there?

The redhead's hands rested on yours trying to stop the trembling you were having and also stopping your mind from spiraling. Her hands were warm and soft, how you missed them, how you missed her...

-"Please... I need to talk to you..."-She whispered, and you avoided looking into her eyes, even though you didn't have the strength to take your hands away from hers

-"What are you doing here?"-It was the only thing that could come out of your lips

-"I promised that if you left, I'd come for you"-The red-haired woman replied, squeezing your hands more intensely, and you sighed

-"You promised so many things that I'm surprised you finally delivered on one"-You answered, your words came out like poisoned arrows from your mouth piercing the redhead's heart. Melissa sighed letting go of your hands to reach for something in her purse, pulling out a stack of papers that was inside a plastic sheet and handing it to you carefully

-"I promised you a lot of things and I plan to keep them all, that's why I'm here..."Mel looked at you smiling delicately and you looked at the papers, the word 'divorce' standing out on the pages.

-"What do you want me to do with this?"-You asked and handed back the stack of papers without paying much attention to it

-"It's done... I've already divorced him, we can be together..." - The redhead commented very excitedly as if it wasn't obvious

-"I don't care anymore... It's too late for that, I gave you enough time before, now it's too late... I'm no longer interested in what you do with your life, if you want you can remarry him or whoever you want, just leave me alone"-You responded by grabbing your keys again and finally opening your door, slamming it in her face before she could say anything else.

That night you couldn't sleep, you just cried from the anger and rage of the situation. You even talked to Barbara and she confessed that she had given your address to the redhead so she could see you, which also made you angry at the eldest. Now it made sense because no one mentioned Mel in the call or why she wasn't there, it was because she had already left to come and see you. Why didn't she stay in Philly? Why did she have to come after you like a dog you petted in the rain? Why did it make you happy to see her? Why was this happening? Why did she have to show up with that stupid piece of paper on your door? Thousands of such questions went through your head, making you cranky and not letting you sleep at all.

The next morning you got up to go to work, when you opened the door, sitting on the carpet in the hallway of the building, was Melissa with her head resting on her suitcase. Hearing you open the door, she woke up and quickly got up from the floor offering you a coffee, just as you always drink it and liked. You just looked at her not knowing what to do

-"Did you spend the whole night sitting in the hallway of the apartments?"-You looked at her in disbelief and she nodded

-"I slept here and I just went to get you coffee and came back..."-Her voice sounded hoarse, as if her mouth was dry

-"You shouldn't have done it, remember your back problems"-You replied and she smiled, still angry you were still taking care of her-"You drink the coffee, you seem to need it more than I do" - You responded and circled her, dodging her to continue on your way to work

-"I'm sorry... I'm sorry it took me so long to act"-Her comment made you stop, but you continued with your back turned to on her-"It wasn't because I was afraid of him, or loved him or because I didn't want to be with you. Believe me, being with you is one of the things I want most in this life... It's just that I didn't want to look like a failure... I've already had a failed marriage once and I was afraid to end this one that had barely started because I was ashamed of what people would say about me...But I realized that because of my stupid fear and pride I lost the most important thing in my life, you... I know I fucked up, but can't lose you again, I can't let you go again without trying to fix this... I'd travel the whole world behind you if I had just one more chance...- The redhead looked weak, opening her heart and telling you her biggest fears. You turned to look at her but continued with your distance, she looked so small and scared-"I'm so sorry, I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't want you to think leaving was the only option you had left, I never wanted to be the person who caused you pain and made you cry... I just want to have you by my side, make you happy, I want to be one of the reasons you have to smile. I want to be your safe place to go to when you don't know where else to run. I don't want to be someone you have to run away from, I want to be someone you feel like running to when the world falls apart. I want to hold you and never let you go, I want to hold you and adore you with every part of me, I want to... I want to be with you... I want you... I love you"-Melissa said crying and avoiding your gaze, she didn't know what else to do, she was surrendered to your being, your next words could make her the happiest woman in the world or completely destroy her. After a few seconds in which you didn't say anything, the redhead looked up to find you in front of her, instead of saying something, you just hugged her tightly under her arms and hid in her neck, she hugged you back, squeezing your waist so hard that almost leaves you gasping for air, Melissa was afraid that if she let you go you'd disappear. The two of you were hugging each other so tightly and with so much feeling that you felt like your heart and hers had left their predetermined places just so you could be closer to each other, as if they were giving each other their own hug. Her perfume filled your senses, her soft hands hugging you with so much feeling, her breathing against your neck, her salty tears wetting your shoulder, everything around you was about her and that made you feel good, happy, she made you feel peace and tranquility like you hadn't felt for a long time.

-"I missed you"-You whispered in her neck and she smiled hugging you more

-"I missed you more..."-The redhead kissed the crown of your head and you sighed, trying not to cry-"I'm sorry I didn't act sooner, I was a fool to let you go...I was so stupid caring about what everyone would say about another divorce..."-she whispered against the crown of your head

-"And I was so stupid to run away, I don't even like this place..."-You confessed and she laughed softly

-"Are we both stupid?"-Mel joked and you nodded

-"Look how long it took us to finally get together, we're so stupid" - You responded by pulling away from her neck to look into her eyes, still hugging her -"Don't ever let me go again..."-You begged and she kissed your lips softly and briefly

-"Never again..." - She smiled and you kissed her again

-Present-

The piano began to play and made you stop looking at the redhead to focus your gaze on the entrance of the church, waiting with a big smile for them to open the doors to see the beautiful bride.

The big doors opened to hear a squeak, two little girls who were Janine's students came down the hallway, one with flowers and the other carrying the rings, behind them was the bride-to-be, Janine was standing on the other side clutching her best friend's arm, her white dress made her look like a princess and her cheeks couldn't contain her big smile of happiness. Your eyes then fell on the man who was at the altar next to you, Gregory was waiting for his future wife very excited with tears of happiness at the sight of Janine walking towards him. They made a beautiful couple and you were happy to be a part of their story as Janine's maid of honor.

When the wedding was over and the party started, the beautiful couple waltzed in front of everyone, you were staring at them gawking at seeing them so happy and in love. A pair of hands hugged your waist, it was your girlfriend Melissa, you knew it by her perfume; the redhead hugged you against her body and rested her chin on your shoulder watching the couple dance. Her warmth and closeness made you feel peace.

After the beautiful dance, Janine went to throw the bouquet, but instead of dropping it randomly, she came to you smiling and left it in your hands, you looked at her in confusion, but the tiny woman took your shoulders and made you turn to find Mel behind you with a red box in her hands, inside was a ring decorated with your favorite stone

-"Mel?"-It was the only thing that managed to escape your mouth in the face of such a surprise

-"(Y/N)... As almost everyone here knows, I've already been married twice, the first time he cheated on me, the second time it wasn't the right person and hopefully the third time is the charm" - The redhead joked and you barely laughed because of the nerves-"We've known each other for years, I think you know me better than I know myself, you know what I like and what I don't, you know how to take care of me, you know how to make me happy and you know how to love me and I'd be too stupid if I didn't make sure you never left me again. I'll be a heaven-blessed woman if you say yes and stay by my side for the rest of our lives. I have a lot more to say but I won't because today is the special day of Janine and Gregory, who helped me plan this and I'm so grateful for that, so I'll summarize this. I love you with all my being and I want to have you by my side every day of my life, what do you say, will you marry me?"-The redhead asked smiling excitedly and you nodded jumping into her arms, the redhead catch you but almost tripped back, stabilizing in the last second, hugging you tightly

-"Of course! I've dreamed of this for years!" - You responded by making her laugh and kissed her lovingly-"I love you Melissa..."

-"I love you more my beautiful girl" - The redhead responded and kissed you again as everyone else screamed with excitement, happy that, after years of back and forth, you were finally together.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti smut #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti abott elementary #abott elementary fanfic #abott elementary #abbott elementary #lissa ann walter #lisa ann walter fanfic #lisa ann walter #Lesbian

165 notes · View notes

springwitch26 · 9 months

Text

green like her eyes (part 2) (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

part 1

summary: you and melissa enjoy smoking weed together to blow off steam from work. this time, things get really steamy.

warnings: smut (18+), recreational marijuana use, consensual high sex, i'm a big fan of dirty talk can you tell

notes: consume drugs responsibly. my requests are open—what do you want to read next? leave a reply and i'll kiss you sweetly 💚

despite your best efforts, you both got soaked in the rain. you were high, so running through the woods felt like flying—but in reality, you two were pretty sluggish as you made your way back to melissa's house. it had been an exhausting work week, after all.

when you found shelter on melissa's front porch, you spent a moment catching your breath and giggling at the absurdity of your situation. melissa fumbled with her keys as her eyes, dark and slightly bloodshot, raked over you.

your thin blouse and skirt were thoroughly drenched and nearly see-through. she made a point not to look below your waist, but she did sneak several peeks at your breasts as they bounced with every breathy laugh. your hair was disheveled, and your makeup had been ruined by the water dripping down your face. you looked messy, and melissa's heart raced at the thought of seeing you like this in a different context.

seeing you shiver broke her out of her trance, and melissa swiftly unlocked the door. she guided you inside with a hand on your lower back and followed after you. once inside, you hesitated to venture past the welcome mat. your clothes were dripping wet and freezing cold, and the last thing you wanted to do was make a mess of melissa's treasured home.

"it's a little late to get shy on me now, sweetheart," melissa said, watching you hover by the door with your arms wrapped around yourself. "you're shakin' like a leaf. come warm up by the fire."

melissa crooked two fingers at you, calling you over to her, and at this point you were convinced she was teasing you on purpose. she had to know that you were thinking about those two fingers curling and pumping inside you.

nonetheless, you obeyed melissa and joined her by the fireplace. dazed and still deeply high, you thought nothing of resting your head on her shoulder.

"mel, i'm coooold," you whined in her ear. "these clothes feel awful."

your clothes felt like icy weights on your body, and you wanted them off as soon as possible. so did melissa. she didn't miss a beat.

"you can borrow some of mine. be right back, okay?" she kissed your cheek lightly—so lightly you thought you imagined it—before rushing upstairs to her room.

uncomfortable and missing melissa already, you had only one goal: to get those evil clothes off your body. you pawed and tugged at your shirt in an attempt to pull it over your head and off. but with your motor skills having taken a hit from the weed, you failed. instead, you got stuck with your arms above your head and the shirt halfway off.

"jeez, hon! what'd ya get yourself into now?" melissa's tone was playful as she came swiftly to your rescue. she took hold of the shirt and instructed you to hold still. "easy now... there we go."

melissa didn't hesitate to help you out of that predicament. she also wasn't prepared to see you topless. as soon as the blouse came off, melissa felt herself salivate. her hands almost tingled with the need to touch you, to map out every inch of soft skin and commit it to memory. she held back for the moment, but her resolve was weakening.

"my hero!" you pulled melissa into a quick hug, missing the way her face flamed at the feeling of your almost-bare chest against hers. "can you help me with one more thing?"

you turned around and gestured toward your bra, hoping she would unhook it for you. the bra, too, was soaked through. in the corner of her eye, melissa caught your nipples straining against the damp fabric, and she took pity.

her fingers left goosebumps in their wake as she deftly unhooked your bra, and you smiled to yourself. your plan was working. you may have been high, but you were well in control of your faculties that night. you knew that the time to make a move was upon you, and you wouldn't give up a shot with melissa schemmenti for anything.

confidently, you spun around to face melissa, now completely bare from the waist up. you giggled when you saw her averting her eyes politely. melissa schemmenti, flustered? you never thought you'd see the day.

"what did you bring me to wear? anything good?" your questions forced melissa to meet your gaze and refocus. she knew what you were doing, and it was taking all of her strength to resist pouncing on you like a tiger.

to your pleasant surprise, melissa then tossed you a cherry red oversized tee with black text on both sides. the front read "abbott elementary field day 1999" with the school's mascot; the back had "ms. schemmenti" above a number, like a jersey.

the best part about the shirt? it was warm. melissa must have just taken it out of the dryer. you held the garment up to your chest, in part to preserve your modesty but also to get a sneaky breath of her scent. your heart felt warm and fuzzy, both due to the older woman's tenderness and the sentimentality behind this little piece of abbott history.

"'99 was a rough year for the kids. i called in a favor with my custom t-shirt guy and had those made for field day. my red team won," melissa said proudly.

you pulled the shirt over your head and let the warmth and comfort surround you. melissa gently helped guide the shirt over your arms, smiling when she saw you in her clothes. you looked good in the shirt. for a moment, she let herself fantasize that you were hers.

"mmm, feels so good," you purred in melissa's ear teasingly. you wanted her to snap so badly. "this skirt is killing me. i hope you don't mind..."

it's killing me too, melissa thought as she watched you pull the wet skirt down your legs and off. she felt no shame about devouring you with her eyes—how could she when you were standing right in front of her, bending over and enticing her as you stripped down to your (suspiciously damp) underwear?

"looks like the rain got your panties wet, too," melissa's voice was hushed, but sure. you turned around and let the red shirt fall to cover your ass. you stalked over to her with a sickly sweet smile and leaned in to whisper.

"not the rain, guess again," you never broke eye contact as you awaited her reply, daring her to make a move. melissa drew a sharp breath in.

"if you keep teasin' me, i won't be able to control myself," she almost growled the confession.

"what if i want you to lose control?"

melissa wasted no time. she reached out and cupped your face, then pulled you in roughly for a kiss. the first kiss was gentle, with her lips like pillows against your own and one of her hands migrating down your back. but it soon became clear that melissa was not interested in taking things slow. she had already waited too long for you.

her hands were all over you as she kissed you roughly, tasting every corner of your mouth. you gasped for air when melissa's hands found your ass and gave a hard squeeze. while you were distracted, she pushed you away from the fireplace and onto the couch. she looked ready to devour you whole as she joined you on the couch and descended on your body.

"so," she started, pausing to place several heated kisses on your neck, "you wanna tell me why your panties are wet?"

"i think you know," you breathed out, your shaky voice betraying your neediness.

"oh babygirl, i wanna hear you say it," she purred before latching on to your neck, marking you while she awaited your response.

"you're why. it's you," you confessed, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her.

"i'm gonna need specifics, hon. what about me makes you so wet?"

"i- um..."

"is it the way i touch you? when i feel you up on this couch, do you sit here drippin' down your thighs?"

you nodded profusely, eyes widening and cheeks heating up. she read you like a book. if you weren't so high and desperate, you would have been impressed. but all you could process was the incredible feeling of melissa's hands and mouth finally exploring you without restraint.

her hands slowly migrated upwards, caressing your torso and landing on your tits. she held them and squeezed, kneading the flesh eagerly. when her fingers suddenly moved to pinch your stiff nipples, you let out a pathetic squeal.

"that's a good girl, lettin' me play with you like this," she cooed.

you shuddered, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the praise. melissa, of course, noticed, and she pulled back to look at you with a sly grin on her face.

"found one button," she said, her green eyes sparkling with amusement and arousal. "let's see if i can find another."

her skilled fingers darted down to your panties, on a mission. she watched your face intently as she pressed her pointer finger firmly on your clit through the fabric. you gasped and squirmed, bucking up towards her finger.

"oooh, she likes that," melissa purred. she swiftly dipped inside your panties and began to rub soft circles on your clit. "do you touch yourself like this and pretend it's me? hmmm?"

you managed to choke out a "yes" between moans, and melissa seemed pleased.

"i bet you do. god, you're pretty like this," she mused, increasing the speed of her ministrations. she leaned down to your ear, wanting you to feel the heat of her breath as she worked you up. "you wanna keep wearin' my shirt while i fuck you? so you remember you're mine?"

you whimpered, feeling hot all over as you approached your high far too quickly. when your legs started to shake, melissa withdrew her fingers and sat up.

"lie back and spread your legs for me, pretty girl," she said gently, and you complied. she situated herself between your spread legs and leaned down to get a closer look at your pussy. she guided you to lift your hips, then pulled your panties off and stuffed them in her pocket. using two fingers to swipe through your folds, she spread your wetness around. "you're soaked, honey."

"please, mel. need you," you said, the words coming out as a keening whine. melissa didn't hesitate to give you what you craved. holding your legs open with her hands on your thighs, she dove in, licking through your slit with fervor.

her tongue trailed up to your clit, drawing quick circles around it. melissa seemed genuinely enamored with your pussy, aiming to taste every glistening inch. she alternated between playing with your clit, feeling it pulse and jump against her tongue with every stroke, and sucking on it.

when she felt you trembling again, she doubled down, wrapping her mouth around your clit and sucking on it like it was all she loved in the world. the heat in your lower belly burst and spread throughout your body, and you spasmed against melissa as you came.

while you were still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, melissa began to tease your entrance with two fingers. her tongue never let up as she thrust deep into you, earning her a strangled cry.

her fingers brushed sweet spots you didn't even know you had, reaching deeper than your own digits ever could. when she curled her fingers to press on your g-spot, you wailed. searching for something to anchor you, your right hand grasped melissa's and your left hand gripped the sheets.

"right there, baby? does that spot feel nice?" she teased, already knowing the answer. before long, your legs were shaking again, and melissa had to lean on you a bit to keep you still. "are you gonna come for me again? i know you're close angel, just let go."

so you did. and melissa was there by your side through every crest and valley, her thumb soothing over the back of your hand while she whispered sweet nothings.

"you did so well for me, hon. my beautiful, good girl..." her words were a whisper that echoed around you, keeping you calm after an intense high.

once your heartbeat started to slow, you opened your eyes and looked at melissa. she gave you a warm smile, her lips shiny with your arousal. overcome with feeling for the goddess in front of you, you sat up and surged forward. you captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

"so," melissa said, panting as she drew away. "wanna smoke another one?"

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti/reader #melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary fanfic #wlw smut #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti x you #fanfic

323 notes · View notes

spooky-holtz · 10 months

Text

Delicate

Melissa Schemmenti x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This is my first time actually posting something I've written, please be nice :) I also don't know how to end things but this entire thing is a start I guess idk

There is no doubt in your mind that Sundays are easily the best day of the week. They are a moment of peace and a reprieve from the hectic nature of the school year. Abbott never gives you chance to breathe, with there always being some issue to fix - though it’s usually because of Ava or Janine’s ‘helpful’ antics.

Not only do they offer you a respite from an otherwise perfect work environment; they also give you a chance to spend some time with a certain red-headed co-worker.

Juggling work with a relationship is never an easy task yet somehow you and Melissa have managed it for close to two years, both of you learning to intertwine your work and personal lives seamlessly. Spending lunchtime chatting with Barb helps, usually with the redhead’s arm resting on the back of your chair as you eat last night's leftovers over conversations about the older woman’s latest Janine-shaped qualm. Mel even manages to convince Ava to group your classes together during field trips to various museums throughout the school year, just so she can see your eyes light up as you guide the kids toward a new fossil - well, as new as something that’s been underground for millions of years can get.

As enjoyable as all this is, your Sundays give you a chance to spend time doing absolutely nothing with Melissa. Days usually begin wrapped in a duvet until neither of you can stand the heat of the confined space any longer, or until she turns on the Schemmenti charm and bats her eyelashes at you before asking you to make coffees, knowing you would simply never say no to her. Today starts a little differently, though.

The coldness of the sheets wrapped around you doesn’t go unnoticed, and neither does the lack of body heat that is usually pressed against your back and wrapped around you. Before you can even wake, you’re frowning at the loss of warmth that constantly accompanies the redhead. You begrudgingly open your eyes, blearily searching for Melissa who at the very least you expect to be resting against the headboard, cat-eye glasses propped on her face as she reads a terrible romance novel. Instead, you’re greeted with a crumpled pillow and cold sheets.

The sight of the empty bed makes you huff, disappointed that she wouldn’t stick around to say good morning. You roll over, wrapping the cool sheets even tighter around your bare torso and grumbling under your breath about the harsh change in temperature that this time of year always brings, before the faint sound of music causes your ears to perk up. It’s too far away to make out properly but there’s only one person that can be the cause of it.

Deciding that you’ve been away from Melissa for far too long, though in reality it’s probably only been half an hour since she woke up herself, you swing your feet off the edge of the bed and onto the cold hardwood floor. Spying an old Phillies sweatshirt with cracked red print that you had commandeered from the redhead a long time ago laying on the floor in front of the dresser after last night’s activities, you decide that it would provide sufficient coverage for your journey into the rest of your home. It is only you two here, after all.

Cautiously, you make your way across the corridor to the stairway, quietly padding your way down as the music becomes louder and the smell of breakfast envelops your senses. The tune is much easier to make out as you round the corner and lean against the kitchen doorframe, Melissa not noticing as she fusses with ingredients on the stovetop that you can’t see, her back turned as she softly sings along to the track playing from the radio that resides on the sunny window ledge.

“Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate,” she softly sings, almost subconsciously as she carries on with the task at hand. You shake your head and let out a slight chuckle at the sight, one that she doesn’t hear over the radio. She continues her singing, hips swaying slightly to the relaxed beat.

Swiftly but silently, you make your way across the kitchen to where she stands and wrap your arms around her. She tenses slightly, her breath catching in her throat at the surprise intrusion. As soon as it happens, she relaxes back into you, continuing to prepare breakfast.

“Who would have thought the Melissa Schemmenti was a Swiftie?” you ask lowly into her ear.

It’s not as if her soft spot for pop music is a secret to you. After a night on the town with Jacob and Janine during spring break you had returned home to find the redhead fast asleep curled up on the sofa, a half-full bottle of rosé forgotten about on the coffee table as Harry Styles crooned at her from the radio that hasn’t moved from the countertop. The same radio that is currently playing Taylor Swift.

“You realize I don’t really have a choice in that, right?” You can almost hear the smirk in her voice, the quirk of her eyebrow that appears so regularly you’re surprised it isn’t a permanent feature that’s etched on her face. “You listen to literally nothing else.”

You gasp, feigning offence at the comment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Look, if we’re going to see her in concert then I wanna be prepared,” she says matter-of-factly gesturing wildly with the spatula that she holds in her hand, almost as if it backs up her frantic justification. “I’m not gonna half-ass it like most of the boyfriends in that crowd, I’m going to make sure I know all the words, so my girl doesn’t have to worry about whether I’m enjoying myself or not.”

Her words immediately cause a pink hue to spread across your cheeks, her casual thoughtfulness never going unnoticed. Suddenly embarrassed, you move your head to press against the exposed skin between her neck and shoulder. You’re pretty sure she can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks, even if she can’t see it.

“I still can’t believe you’re going for me.” You mumble against the skin of her neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin.

She relishes in the contact for a brief moment before she registers your words and spins to face you, the pan and its contents that sit on the stove pushed to the side, forgotten.

“Well yeah, of course I’m going to go with you. You love her and I love you. Simple”

You pause.

“Really? Because if you didn’t want to go you know I could always just take Janine or Jaco-“

Your rambling is cut off by a soft pair of lips pressing against yours, immediately stopping the tirade of second-guessing.

She tastes like coffee, the remnants of which sit at the bottom of a mug on the counter that’s adorned by faded images of the two of you over the last 3 years that you’ve known each other. The item was a gift from Barb, given to Melissa as part of her birthday celebrations this year. It serves as a reminder of just how long the two of you pined over each other before letting your true feelings be known.

Barb took great pride in presenting the mug to Melissa, with an equal amount going toward the fact that all but one of the images that are printed on the side were taken secretly by the older woman, candid moments of your relationship through the years.

“I think you’ll find that you weren’t even together in half of them,” she had said, as soon as she had seen Mel’s eyes soften at the sight she held in her hands. “I just knew I had to take pictures when I would see you two together. You would definitely want to see them when you finally plucked up the courage to tell the damn girl how you felt.”

“Where did you just go?” Melissa asks, bringing you out of your thoughts. She’s looking up at you slightly through her eyelashes and the sight makes your heart skip in your chest.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” you reply, honestly. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that would learn the words to an entire concert setlist just for me.”

“Of course I would,” she says, leaning in again. “Because,” kiss. “I love you,” kiss. “And besides,” she shrugs slightly, “it’s not as if I didn’t know most of them in the first place. I couldn’t have you thinking I was getting too soft now, could I?”

Your jaw drops at the statement.

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti!” You gasp, “Are you seriously telling me you’ve been a closeted Taylor Swift fan this entire time and you were going to let me think you weren’t?!”

“What do you think I am, an idiot?” She breaks into a grin, her eyes crinkling. “The woman is a musical genius. You should be more shocked that I apparently didn’t like her after that whole Harry Styles debacle.”

Your jaw is still ajar, quite simply unable to recover from this revelation. You go to move away from the redhead as the song changes on the stereo but her deceivingly strong arms tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer to her than you were before.

“Dance with me?” She asks, looking up through her eyelashes again. Her voice has taken on an almost nervous tone that you rarely get to hear from her.

Those three words soften your rigid exterior as she looks up expectantly, almost hesitantly, as she waits for your response.

“As if I could ever say no to you.”

She visibly relaxes at your statement, her left hand moving further down your lower back to rest against your waist. You snake one hand up the silk of her floral dressing gown to rest on her shoulder whilst the other subconsciously finds its way into hers, fingers intertwining seamlessly. This is a position you often find yourselves in, always finding something to dance together to as a meal cooks, or a fresh pot of coffee brews, or simply as a way to enjoy the others' company.

Your bodies press flush against each other and you’re finally able to relish in the warmth that she carries. A warmth that you so desperately missed this morning. Your head leans back slightly so you can look at her face properly for the first time since you woke.

This is your favorite version of Melissa and is by far the most beautiful. Yes, she looks incredible when her eyes are lined by sharp black eyeliner or her lips shine with recently applied sparkly pink gloss, but this natural state with soft eyes and a dusting of freckles that line the bridge of her nose makes your heart leap in your chest. Not many people get to see this version of her, but you feel privileged to be among the extremely lucky few.

Her fiery hair is pulled up into a messy bun in an attempt to tame the tangled mess she finds herself in every single morning. It was clearly a hasty choice made when she woke herself, so much so that she missed a chunk and a copper strand falls down her back, completely unnoticed.

“Do you know how pretty you are?” You ask.

She scoffs. “As if-“she begins before her protest is abruptly cut off by your own.

“Nope, I’m not listening,” you say, leaning your head back away from her in a bid to cement your point. “You’re absolutely the most beautiful woman in the world and I won’t hear any different, so stop that right now.”

She chooses not to fight this battle that she will clearly lose, for once going against all her instincts. When you look back at her, her eyes are glistening, shining like they’re made of glass. You take the opportunity to place your lips to her forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple in a silent ‘I love you’. Meeting her eyes again, you can see the faint pink hue that dusts her cheeks.

“You’re blushing, you know.” You tease lightly.

She laughs, almost in disbelief. “Yeah well, pretty girls tend to have that effect on me.” Her eyes crinkle again as she grins, her expression only growing wider as you throw your head back in laughter. Her hand on your waist moves to your lower back, pressing to keep the two of you from toppling over as you laugh together.

When you bring your head back to her level, beaming in her direction at her constant ability to turn the Schemmenti charm on seemingly out of nowhere. Your grip on her tightens, the hand that was conjoined with her own snaking it’s way inside her robe and under the loose tie to rest on her hip, rubbing the pale skin there with your thumb.

Her own hand moves to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, it having fell during the moment of pure joy and laughter you shared. As her hand pulls away, she moves it to brush against your jaw, caressing the skin as her light eyes gaze lovingly into yours. This entire scene feels like something that’s been ripped straight out of a rom com, but there is simply no other person you would rather share these lulls with. Almost as if she’s reading your mind, Melissa breathes a quiet “I love you,” before resting her own forehead against yours.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary fanfic #fluff #melissa schemmenti fluff #wlw #reader fic #reader fanfic #self insert #writing #melissa schemmenti x y/n #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti imagine

270 notes · View notes

musical-chick-13 · 5 months

Text

Okay ALSO. The amount of comments of "But why are we losing to RANDOS, who even ARE they, how can we lose to them???!!!"

If you have not at any point ever even heard of TLT on this website, then you do not follow enough sapphics.

#mel's petty era #no I'm not Making You Read the Books lmao #I'm just saying that if your response to female-centric media (and ESPECIALLY sapphic media) every time is 'who is this I've never heard #of them' then...you need to surround yourself with a more varied group of people with more varied media tastes #also 'who tf is this' and it's about an anime. yeah if you're not an anime person you are not going to know about currently-airing or #recently-aired anime. that's just...kind of how it goes. don't be weird about it?#nothing beats the jokes on how people are 'proud misogynists when it comes to polls like this' or straight-up calling lesbians a slur tho #okay this is the last separate post I'm making about this we wait with bated breath #(probably WILL reblog the polls one last time an hour or two before they close but. everyone say your yuri prayers.)

3 notes · View notes

sixseasonsofodestawithatardis · 5 months

Text

Explaining PIP, the reforms and how YOU can help!

Recently, Prime Minister Rishi Sunak and Secretary of State for Work and Pensions Mel Stride announced measures to reform PIP (Personal Independence Payment). It's a benefit given to disabled people, whether they are employed or not, to help provide support for the extra costs incurred due to being disabled. PIP can be paid on anything you need, such as a carer, adaptions, your bills or a night out (yes, disabled people are entitled to a social life I'm NOT arguing with anyone about this!) On top of the changes to sick notes, the announced reforms are an assault on disabled people to desperately cling to power!

Below is an explanation of PIP and the reforms so people can answer the open consultations, call for evidence, and sign a petition. We need as many people in the UK as possible to answer both to try to stop these reforms from happening.

What is PIP?

The Tories are saying PIP is a one-size-fits-all benefit, which again is a lie as PIP is designed to look at how your disability affects your daily life and how difficult it makes it for you to participate in society, not whether you have this specific disability so it only affects you in these ways! It doesn't matter whether you're diagnosed or not, either. There are two categories they look at throughout, known as the 'Daily Living Component' and the 'Mobility component' The process involves 50 pages you have to fill out (link to Turn2US for proof https://www.turn2us.org.uk/get-support/information-for-your-situation/claiming-personal-independence-payment-pip/fill-in-the-personal-independence-payment-pip-form#:~:text=You%20usually%20get%20the%20paper,it%20is%2050%20pages%20long.)

With hundreds of letters from Doctors as proof of your condition! And then an assessment in which you will answer all sorts of demeaning questions, give in-depth answers that you don't feel comfortable sharing, and hope the assessor has understood how it affects your life and written it down properly and that you'll get the right amount of money at the end of this assessment or re-assessment.

To get the standard rate in both components, you need 8 points; to get the enhanced rate, you need 12 points.

They'll then give you two, three, five, or ten years (10 years is known as a fixed-term award and a light-touch review) to undergo the terror of the PIP assessment again.

The reforms proposed and why they're terrifying!

The reforms they've suggested so far are

One-off grants for aids and appliances

receipts to then be claimed back at a later date

the changing of eligibility for PIP or the category 'Long Term sickness'

Vouchers instead of cash payments

If you've read those four options and thought they were cruel, infantilising and impossible to make work, then you'd be right.

As a disabled person, bills don't magically disappear. You still have council tax and rent to pay or a carer. Will landlords and councils accept these vouchers? A one-off grant won't work here either. The vouchers also signal that we can't be trusted to pay for our own needs and aren't responsible—which is far from the truth!

Aids and treatments are already covered by the NHS, so this is redundant and will be futile, especially when you consider the long waiting lists for mental health treatment (and just generally) on the NHS—and even if they aren't, we do know that and will use PIP to save up for it, etc. It's easier and more economical to give us cash payments.

To have the receipts to claim back expenses, we need to have the money to spend on said expenses.

Changing the eligibility will (much like these other suggestions) put more disabled people at risk. If you want mental health to improve: Fix the NHS, wages, sort out the cost of living crisis and fund the research/support for Long Covid sufferers.

How you can help! - UK-based people, plz sign everyone else. Please reblog & signal boost!

If you live in the UK, there are currently two consultations open ( the sick note one closes on 8 July 2024, and the PIP one closes on 22 July 2024). Ideally, the responses will be used to decide whether these reforms go ahead.

Here are links to the two reforms for PIP and changes to the sick note process.

Please note that the PIP consultation ( the first link) is 6 pages long and must be completed in one go. It's also filled with typos, repeated questions, and very difficult wording in many places, so be on the lookout for that! People are rightfully complaining about its accessibility, so the link and end date may change. I will update this post if this happens. I also know answering stuff like this is overwhelming, so here is a thread by PeachyInWales on Twitter about how they approached the consultation. If I see any samples by any disability activists or organisations, I will post them here, too!

This second link is the second consultation or call to evidence. Which GPs are being stripped of the ability to sign sicknotes for people on benefits, which is again ridiculous!

And the last link is a petition from SCOPE to stop the government from demonising disabled people further.

Ultimately, we're trying to stop a benefit that is difficult to get and barely covers costs for many applicants from getting worse.

If I've missed anything then let me know! I'm sorry the post was so long, but it's a lot to go through! Again, UK-based people, please share your thoughts if you can and sign the petition! If you are not currently living in the UK, please share these links or the post so other UK-based users can see this and try to help.

Thank you!

#uk politics #anti rishi sunak #anti mel stride #anti dwp #PIP #personal independence payment #sick notes #petitions #UK benefit reforms #disability rights #disability activism #disability #SCOPE #anti tories

119 notes · View notes

blood-starved-beast · 4 months

Note

But seriously, your posts actually made me realize that oh, the reason Nem reads as so rude (aside from the fact that the overwhelming majority of the ways she chooses to word her grievances ARE, objectively, very hurtful and rude) is that she's the only one actively acknowledging that hey, this is??? kinda fucked up actually? Why is Mel the one expected to do what is, by any currently understood metric, an impossible task with no assistance beyond Thoughts and Prayers from Olympians and a "go get 'em, tiger" from the assorted parental figures in camp? Most of whom then tell her that actually no, I'm not your real parent, your real parents are in time prison and I only took care of you so that you're strong enough to break them out of time prison one day.

Nemesis is the only one pointing at Mel like "you ruined a perfectly good goddess is what you did, Hecate. Look at it! It's got anxiety and imposter syndrome!"

Nemesis isn't the only one to show this concern! The only other person actively trying to do something about Melinoe's maladaptive and self-destructive behaviors is...Eris. Eris who is trying to loosen Mel up in the only way she knows how - doing the House of Hades tradition of trying to bond with someone by fighting to the Death. Unfortunately, Eris is so smarmy in the way she explains that it also comes off as insincere. The sisters are actually quite similar in this respect. It's also giving very strong "Nyx fires Dusa to force her to not overwork herself to the bone". Which is, likely where they both inherited that perspective from actually. Like Nem, Eris is like "why do you care about these people?" even.

I do think Hecate does care about Melinoe genuinely. But as I've hypothesized before, I think Titans being another step removed from humans cannot rationalize emotions and connections the same way gods or even mortals can. That's a thing that's discussed even in one of the nectar convos with Hecate. She mentions not understanding mortal the gods gestures and customs like this, though is quick to assure Melinoe that she appreciates it nonetheless. Interestingly, Nemesis mentions in her fishing(?) convo and another how she understands the mortal concept of justice, evil, etc. and those things is something setting her apart from her family. Which I think is part of the conflict between her and Hecate.

Odysseus is so interesting to me. He's an uncle/brother figure (per what Mel tells him) and he clearly cares but you can feel the sense that he keeps his distance. And that's his baggage with goddesses speaking there I think. He's a mortal interacting with gods and gods have their own perspectives on things and they have the power to Hurt You if things line up wrong. Which is part of some of the themes of this game of mortals vs gods vs titans.

Anyways you are correct and I'm just elaborating more here.

#d asks #wee-chlo #Nemesis #Melinoe #Eris (hades)#Hecate #Odysseus (hades)#hades 2 #hades II #hades II spoilers #meta #Mel's male LIs are more the supportive type both Moros and Icarus #that's what happens when Mel selectively goes for soft boytoys who lay on their backs for her as opposed to #going for emotionally messed up women who will Hurt Her to help her #EDIT TO include a read more cause this is long

87 notes · View notes

seirindono · 2 months

Note

two questions.

one, HOW DOES ONE COMIC/STORY BOARD??

IM OBSESSED WITH HOW YOU DO IT ITS SO BEAUTIFUL

two, HOW DO YOU SO IT SO FAST( that’s question is more just me being super impressed oh my goodness)

you’re very good😳

Aw, sweet, a board question *puts on serious glasses*

Ok, bring it on anon.

So, the first thing to ask yourself when starting a comic, as I see it, is what type of board are you dealing with. Webtoon? A4 pages? 4 panels? There are many ways to go about it, and each involves different processes. For example, pages will allow for more superfluous scenes, whereas the webtoon format has to be super succinct because of the reading direction. I personally think that's the main reason I do pages, among other advantages: •narrative density •variety •Tumblr-friendly format

There are quite a few disadvantages too but you have to go through the process of trials and errors to really find out what suits you best!

Then there's the ambition of the sequence you're boarding for. And it goes from 1. how used I am to boarding this kind of sequence/drawing these characters/setting and backgrounds, to 2. is it an emotional sequence? Dialogue-heavy? Or more contemplative?

It changes the way you work and how you should approach your board! For example, in TMS, the very wordy chapters (4 and 5 for ex) generally called for simple and narrow framing. Of course, you don't want to bore the reader so you can spice things up to match the characters mood and reactions once in a while, but you have to bear in mind that the sequence aims to provide dialogue and information = the text bubbles are key and WILL take a lot of place. So let them.

( then again, it's all about pacing and balance. A page full of dialogue and one with too much happening are equally hard to read and boring to do)

Only dialogue, simple squares, no compostion, the focus is on Mel's reaction

On the other hand, parts 7 and 8 are all about action and atmosphere! This makes for wider and more varied shots!

They're fighting, things are going fast so why not use a single line to show many actions! They're still basically squares and rectangles but the pacing is totally different!

Or why not give the action a full page to really show its sheer impact

You can also split things, with a zoom or small time gap, depending on if it's a gag or if you want to put the focus on a reaction. Here, the asymmetry helps reinforce the unstable, jerky aspect of the scene. The situation is getting out of hand, and visually, the pages are affected too.

Now, these are case-by-case examples. And I never work on my pages separately.

For context, this-

-is the "first" board I did for part 8.

The drawings are very small and frankly difficult to make out, but the intention is what matters at this point lol I have the script (very important) next to my canvas, and I scribble the pages one after the ither. This allows me to see if the actions flow well, if the compositions are varied and also whether certain passages are too long or too short in regard to their importance. Which scenes can be merged? Removed? Toned down or if they deserve more bite?

This is a really fun and creative part but, I'll say it again, made a lot easier with a solid scipt. And I'm talking about a text document with clearly defined dialogues (or at least outlines) and actions.

I can't really explain how to write a script, it really depends on your work flow and how confortable you are with writing, but it's too important to just rush through it. No matter how much it changes before, during or after your finish boarding (cuz you gotta break your own rules sometimes and you'll often realize some things don't work as well once you put them on paper/sometimes art block can be resolved by writing the scene and just taking the time to imagine) but it's still your one guideline.

Aaaand, that's about it.

Other than that, I can only highly recommend reading lots of comics, Webtoon, books, watching movies, paintings, illustrations, animatics or listening to music, to inspire you and expand your own "personal library of references". Professional or not, anything your find inspiring and well executed. Boarding is at its core, telling stories. No art skill involved, just pure subjectivity. At the end of the day, it's all about squares, rectangles and bubbles so you gotta work on your creativity. The rest is gut feeling!

Constantly ask yourself how to tell this story, and how you want to tell it. How this sequence should be perceived? What do you need to show to make pages and pages of words appealing and interesting.

Be patient, be bold. Start with easy stuff to get some confidence if you need to. Accept that "boring" pages are smt necessary and that it's up to you to build up tension for a scene to really pop. Try new ideas and be ready to scrap many of them, the result will be worth all the work!

Now, concerning the "fast" part, I'm flattered but I personally think I'm super slow xD You prbly get that impression bc I finish the whole chapter before posting it, but behind the scene, I'm just working at a very regular pace.

Thank youuu anon ♡( ◡‿◡ )

#ask #ask me #forgot the tag I use for those errr #tuto #boarding is so much fun *sigh* unlike this *looking at the pile of pages waiting for lineart*#I personnaly prefer boarding for animatic but comics are fun cuz I know I'll get to actually see the final result haha #I know some artists love to do intricate shots with lots of details and pers (big flex here) but I'm more about the vibe really xD

59 notes · View notes

lizordula · 10 months

Text

Marg My Words Pt. 2

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Summary: With the summer break approaching, you're increasingly unsure whether you can content yourself with just being friends with benefits.

Warnings: alcohol, light angst, marking, semi-public sex

Word Count: ~2.8k

A/N: This work is a sequel to this fic, but it can also be read on its own ^^

AO3 Link

"Alright, ladies. Have a good summer break!"

Barb swings the backdoor shut and leans down at your window, seeing Melissa and you off with a beaming smile on her face. You have never seen Barbara Howard this relaxed and carefree since—well—ever. She even surrendered her precious front-seat privileges to you.

"Have fun in Jamaica! I can't wait to hear about the adventures of Sea Barbara," you respond excitedly.

"Yeah, and watch your shoes," Melissa interjects, leaning over into your space to look pointedly at Barb, "My cousin doesn't work the cruise line no more."

"Yeah, yeah, I can handle myself, Melissa," Barb waves off and starts retreating into her driveway.

"I know you can, hun," Melissa replies with a fond smirk while putting her park in reverse. You silently observe the two older women's banter as you often do when you carpool together. Things are so easy between them, something you have appreciated ever since they welcomed you into their twosome. You will surely miss their company over the summer break.

(The thought of not seeing Melissa, in particular, devastates you, but you try not to dwell on it.)

After Barb disappears into her house, Melissa gets back on the road, making headway to your apartment. The twists and turns are so familiar that you get lost in the routine, closing your eyes and enjoying how the balmy breeze of the wind brushes along the skin of your outstretched hand.

When you stop at a red light, Melissa glances over at you and can't help but smile at the content expression on your face. She has witnessed you blissed out, tangled in her sheets, many times before, but seeing you like this feels much more intimate. Before she can fight the urge, she takes her right hand off the wheel and places it on your knee.

You open your eyes when you feel the weight on your leg and glimpse at Melissa in surprise. Her gaze is focused dead on the road. Sitting on the passenger side is a rare occurrence since Barb normally calls dibs, which is why you're not used to Melissa driving next to you, much less openly touching you. It feels surprisingly affectionate, like something couples would do, but you find you don't mind it.

You hesitantly inch your left hand toward Melissa's and take it in yours, squeezing lightly. Strangely, your heart flutters at the action. You have done much more explicit things than holding hands—hell, you've been between the woman's legs—but seeing your hands slotted perfectly together sends an inopportune pang of yearning through you.

Neither of you turns around to acknowledge the gesture. Instead, you fix your eyes on the road, smiling timidly to yourselves.

The rest of the ride passes in comfortable silence, but then Melissa unexpectedly takes a left turn instead of turning right toward your apartment complex.

"Mel, you missed the turn," you pipe up and press your nose against the window, looking after the familiar scenery of trees and buildings shrinking into the distance.

"We're on the right track. Trust me," Melissa replies without taking her eyes off the road. She squeezes your hand, and you shrink back into your seat, tentatively intrigued about the redhead's plans.

After a ten-minute drive, Melissa pulls into a clearing without any signposts or cemented streets. If it wasn't Melissa, you would start to worry about being kidnapped just about now, but the more you follow the pathway, the denser the trees become, and the more flowers line the wayside. It's quite beautiful, in fact.

Eventually, Melissa stops and reverses into a field of grass. You watch as she turns in her seat and throws her right arm over your backrest, her brows knitted in concentration as she backs up. Your gaze drops to her bicep, straining against the confines of her leather jacket. It seems you severely underestimated how attractive reverse parking would look on the older woman.

The blush on your cheeks intensifies when Melissa grabs your left hand again and presses a kiss to your knuckles. "Come on. I have a surprise for you," she says, eyes sparkling with anticipatory excitement, and exits the car. Squinting your eyes, you follow her lead and round the car to join her at the trunk.

You stop in your tracks when you see the breathtaking view before you. Melissa's car is parked right on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Delaware River. The sun is filtering through the leaves of the tall trees surrounding you, throwing vibrant rays of light on the variety of flowers lining the meadow. The hum of bumblebees seeking out the blossoms of the flourishing greenery fills the air.

You never thought that such a place could exist right in the heart of Philly, but leave it to Melissa to find a serene spot like this.

"Melissa, this is amazing," you exclaim and spin on your heels to take in the scenery, your arms dangling loosely at your sides. Melissa watches you with crossed arms, immensely pleased with herself.

"That's not all," she says, and you watch her curiously as she opens the trunk and rummages around in it. Your eyes widen when Melissa pulls out a picnic basket along with several pillows and a blanket, which she spreads on the lush grass in one fluid motion.

Your astonished expression morphs into a grin when Melissa offers you her hand, tugging you down on the blanket beside her and urging you to recline against the many pillows. You sigh in contentment and sink further into the feathery softness while you watch Melissa take out wine and an assortment of cheese, sausage, and fruit from the basket.

(The afternoon sun sparkling on the river, the vibrant colors of the flowers, the lingering scent of Melissa's perfume on the pillows—it all seems too good to be true. You try to swallow the lump in your throat when Melissa smiles at you as she pours the wine. This is the sweetest thing she has ever done for you, and you don't want to risk reminding her of your arrangement by being overly emotional.)

When Melissa sinks into the pillows beside you, you settle on your side and prop your head on your hand. You gratefully receive the wine glass from her and take a generous, much-needed sip, hiding your fond smile behind the rim. Melissa once again proves her culinary capabilities as she artfully cuts the cheese, sausage, and fruit and arranges them in neat swirls on the charcuterie board. When she procures a whole loaf of bread from the seemingly neverending depths of the picnic basket, you wonder if she cast some sort of extension charm on it or if she's just really good at packing.

(You ask her as much, eyes glinting with amusement, but the reference doesn't land, and Melissa simply blinks at you. You indistinctly recall, then, that there wasn't much watching involved when you showed her Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone a few weeks back.)

For the next thirty minutes, you gorge on the beautiful array of food and talk about all kinds of things. You listen with a fond smile as Melissa raves on about all the different kinds of Italian sausages and where in Italy they originate from, thinking about how lucky you are that she counts you among the people she opens up to like this. She flusters you by holding out the respective food to feed you, her mouth falling open and her pupils expanding as she watches you take a bite. You get back at her by grasping her hand before she can pull back and sucking her fingers into your mouth.

It's all so lewd and sexually charged that it comes as a surprise when Melissa scooches closer to you and lays her head against your shoulder. Normally, this would be the moment to stumble into her bedroom and have fast, cathartic, stress-relieving sex before you head out to sleep at your place. Still, you can't help but melt into Melissa's touch and reach an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer.

You fall into a comfortable silence, then. The only sounds come from the wind rustling in the leaves above you and the faint music of the radio station carrying over from the opened car window. You can tell that Melissa's mind is quiet, coaxed into relaxation by your fingertips lightly scratching the nape of her neck. But yours is spinning.

You can't stop thinking about how this afternoon was so out of the ordinary. You haven't exactly talked about the terms of your arrangement, but Melissa driving you out to a picturesque lookout and orchestrating an entire picnic feast feels like you have crossed some kind of invisible line. One that is difficult to turn back from.

Since today marks the last day of the school year, you won't see Melissa for nearly three months. You decide to ask her now, or you will most likely be racking your brain about the meaning of your situationship the entire summer.

"Melissa?"

"Yeah, hun?" Melissa returns and lies on her side to face you better. Your heart flutters when she slides her hand over your stomach and splays her fingers across it.

Focus.

"I— thank you for today," you begin tentatively, avoiding her gaze, "though I have to say, today feels different."

You feel Melissa tense up in your arms at the comment and, before she can pull away, you tighten your grip around her. You huff, "I mean, having a picnic and laying in each others' arms...what are we doing?"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you wince inwardly. You couldn't have worded it any worse, and Melissa's reaction confirms as much when she sits up and scrambles to put some distance between the two of you.

"Yeah, you're right. This was a stupid idea," she says gruffly and moves to stand up. You hurriedly grasp Melissa's arms, keeping her in place with a firm grip.

"No. No! That's not what I meant," you exclaim, rising to your knees. Your panicked gaze flits between Melissa's eyes, imploring her to understand. Melissa views you skeptically but sits down again, motioning you to elaborate. "I guess we never put a label on things, and today was so...romantic?" You sigh as you grapple with your words, your hand still holding onto Melissa's wrist. You ground yourself by brushing over the soft skin there. "I just need to know before the break, so I don't go crazy."

"Well, what if it was s'posed to be romantic?"

Melissa juts out her chin in defiance as if she was expecting you to reject her or recoil in disapproval. It makes your heart clench painfully inside your chest. Shuffling closer, you cup her jaw with both hands and angle your head to gently press your lips to hers, pouring every ounce of affection that has accumulated over the last few months into the kiss. Melissa's hands settle on your waist, and she sighs deeply, her tense posture slackening against you. You break away and whisper against kiss-swollen lips, "Does that answer your question?"

Melissa's gaze flickers between your eyes, and before you can draw back fully, she pulls you back into her embrace, immediately deepening the kiss. Her tongue slips in your mouth, and you moan softly in relief. She presses against your shoulders, but you maneuver her around instead, straddling her hips as you gently push her down on the blanket.

Despite the barrier, you can feel the cold starting to seep into your knees, and you vaguely note how the sun is gradually disappearing behind the treetops. Melissa shivers beneath you, and you draw back, checking in to make sure she wants this as much as you do.

"Is this okay? You're cold."

Melissa truly looks a vision, vivid hair fanned out across the pillows, the milky skin of her chest flushed with a delightful pink that rivals the coral hues of the sunset. She grasps the lapel of your jacket, bunching her fists in the material, and pulls you close again. "Then keep me warm," she murmurs against your lips and draws you in again.

The kiss is slow, heavy with emotions and the intent to consume. You switch to Melissa's jaw and leisurely kiss your way down Melissa's neck and back up to the space behind her ear, grazing the sensitive skin there with your teeth while your other hand roams underneath her shirt to graze along her ribcage. Goosebumps erupt underneath your fingertips, and Melissa moans lowly, insistently tugging you down her body. You chuckle and acquiesce her, trailing down your lips to the swell of her right breast, sucking until a bouquet of purple—not unlike the hyacinths growing along the treeline—blooms under your touch.

Sitting back, you admire your work, enraptured by the way Melissa's chest is heaving and her pupils are blown into pools of dark green. Melissa pushes up, urging you to continue, and you hiss lowly when her hips press against your core. You relent and push up Melissa's shirt, fingers circling and pinching her nipples through the lacy material of her bra while you kiss along the soft slope of her stomach. You pull down the zipper of her jeans, grateful that Melissa didn't opt for her leather pants today. As much as you love them on her, taking them off her is painstakingly tedious and impractical. You pull off her jeans and her panties in one swift motion and spread her legs right away. Your breath hitches when you see Melissa's glistening core.

It's such a beautiful thing, having her like this, surrounded by your very own paradise and enshrouded in the promise to be more, to love more.

You shuffle down the blanket to lay down on your stomach. Melissa chuckles when you link your arms under and around her milky thighs and pull her closer to your face.

"You comfortable down there?"

"Very," you grin and disappear between Melissa's legs. The redhead props herself on her elbows to watch you kiss and nip your way up to the inside of her thigh, fond gaze burning into yours. After you have spent sufficient time teasing around her mound, you lick a broad strip up her slit before fastening your lips around her clit. Melissa falls back against the pillows with a gasp. Closing her eyes in concentration, she throws one arm over her forehead while her other hand wanders to your neck and tangles in your hair, tugging gently at your roots.

You moan into Melissa's cunt and redouble your efforts. Swirling your tongue around her clit, you look up, watching intently for the telltale signs of Melissa breaking apart. The hand that was slung over her face is now squeezing her breast, thumb digging into the marks you left on her earlier. You can feel your own arousal drenching your underwear at the sight of your marks on Melissa, of her coming undone for you this marvelously.

You slip your right hand underneath your chin and position your fingers at Melissa's entrance. Two fingers slide home easily, right to the hilt. Immediately, Melissa's walls flutter around you. You keep up a steady pace while you suck on her clit, enthralled in her scent, in her essence coating your face, in the sound of your fingers pushing in and out of her. It doesn't take long before Melissa's moans rise in pitch and volume, and her walls clench around your fingers.

You press in one last time, fingers curling upward, and Melissa comes with a choked moan, thighs shaking around your head, hand tightly squeezing yours as if she intends to never let go.

After you gently clean her up and put her jeans back on, you lay down next to her with a content sigh. As soon as you do, her arm circles around you to pull you impossibly close. You snake your hand over her torso and underneath her leather jacket, basking in her warmth as you both catch your breath.

Behind the meadow, the sky is slowly changing colors, and the crescent of the moon is starting to fade into existence. Melissa presses a soft kiss against your temple, something she never allowed herself to do before today, and you smile brightly, intense adoration rising in your chest like the stars burning to the sky's forefront above you. The air is getting too brisk to be lying on the ground, but you don't feel cold. Not with the fuzzy coat from the wine you had earlier and Melissa's body pressing into yours.

Not when the verifiable truth of Melissa returning your feelings keeps you warmer than any sunlight ever could.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader

183 notes · View notes

her-satanic-wiles · 11 months

Text

Day 31 - Halloween

Monster Fucking, Ghost!Papa Emeritus III x Plus Size!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 14.2k.

Warnings: Teratophilia/monster fucking; graphic depictions of blood; graphic depictions of death; graphic depictions of beheading; detailed grief; major character death; death of a loved one; haunting; public sex; teasing; fingering; vaginal fingering; not actual dubcon, but dubcon elements (a character’s hand gets grabbed and squeezed during a scene, but the character has no idea what’s going on); groping; nipple play; public cunnilingus; squirting; hurt/comfort; partner worship; praise kink; vaginal sex; piv; possessive Terzo; implied depression;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons @starscream-squarepants

Author's Note: Hello, lovely!

I just wanted to take this time to thank you profusely for your support every day this entire month. It has honestly meant the world to me that you're taking the time out of your day and enjoying my content.

I wanted to give an extra shout-out and super thanks to @da-rulah for not only beta reading a bunch of my fics and making sure you could understand my droning, but also giving me inspiration when I needed it and helping me workshop ideas on days when the list just wasn't working out for me.

Also major thank you to @copias-sewer-rat and @sodoswitchimage for constantly being in my replies and reblogging the fics and just generally being gorgeous people. I appreciate you two so much for consistently hyping up the fics.

One final thing before I let you enjoy this final piece, I just wanted to double check that you've read the trigger warnings and are comfortable enough to proceed. This is dark fiction, horror based with graphic depictions of poor mental health and physical violence, and I want to make sure that you're aware of this before you go ahead. As this is dark fiction, I will be rating it 21+, so I kindly ask you to respect this rating.

Thank you so much,

Mel

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You sat in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the remnants of your shattered world. Your body was cloaked in his clothes, his suit jacket that he’d intended to send down to laundry hanging off your body. His scent lingered on the fibres, comforting you even if it was just momentarily, and his Grucifix hanging from your neck and resting against your soft breasts, a small weighted comfort that you couldn’t liken to his touch - it was too cold.

The suffocating weight of grief consumed you, its tendrils winding around your every thought and breath. The image of his lifeless body, his head cruelly severed from his shoulders by the unforgiving hand of the Ministry’s authority, replayed relentlessly in your mind, tormenting you with its vivid brutality. The look in his lifeless eyes haunting you to this day every time you closed yours. The feeling of Cardinal Copia’s hands on your body, trying to shield you from the horror you were never meant to see. The sound of Imperator’s voice claiming pity for the fallen Papa as she stepped away from his pooling blood so her shoes wouldn’t soil. Her hearty tone of congratulations aimed at her estranged son, while you wept on the floor, reaching out for Terzo’s lifeless body.

With trembling hands, you reached for the Ouija board, the only thing you had left to reach Terzo. The board felt cool and smooth under your fingertips, its letters and numbers arranged in a circle, an eerie portal to the unknown. You had heard the whispers, the warnings about meddling with forces beyond your understanding, but your need to speak to him, to find any sliver of solace in this maelstrom of despair, drowned out the cautious voice within.

The room fell silent as you placed your fingertips on the planchette, your breath caught in your throat and mind silencing itself in order to fully focus on the task at hand. You closed your eyes, trying to summon the fragments of his memory, his voice, his touch, anything that could guide your hand. Your voice, shaky and grief-laden, calling out to him in the abyss. Your soul was crying, begging, screaming for anything from him, nursing a heart that broke further with every second that passed, every second that he didn’t make his presence known to you. Tears began to well in your eyes, the hopelessness overwhelming your senses. “Terzo, please!” You begged to the open air, eyes pointed skywards even though you knew Heaven wasn’t his final destination. “Come back to me.”

A sense of unease crept over you, the air thickening with an unseen presence that seemed to seep through the cracks of your fragile reality. The planchette shuddered under your touch, then began to move, its deliberate motion spelling out words that echoed like whispers from a distant, forbidden realm. The tears you were shedding as the planchette moved froze alongside your blood, as your eyes focussed on the board in front of you, unbelieving it was actually moving.

Your heart quickened as the letters formed a message, disjointed and cryptic, a reflection of a presence that both frightened and thrilled you. The room grew colder, shadows dancing along the walls, and you felt a chilling breath on the nape of your neck, as if unseen eyes were watching you from the darkest corners. Despite the mounting terror, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, to sever this ethereal connection with the one you loved.

A sudden gust of wind extinguished the lone candle, plunging you into absolute darkness. Panic surged through your veins, but even in this black void, the planchette continued to move, etching out words that seemed to emanate from a place beyond the realm of the living. It was then you’d realised that in your panic, your hands had left the planchette, breaking your physical connection to the board, and yet it was moving now of its own accord; spelling out messages to you that were shrouded in darkness. The darkness hid the messages from you, but the deafening silence made sure you could hear every single scrape of the wood against the board.

The room seemed to pulse with a palpable energy, a presence that surrounded you, enveloping you in a web of otherworldly sensations. You realized, with a dawning sense of dread, that this connection you had forged was not just a bridge to the afterlife, but a gateway to something far more sinister, a realm where the line between the living and the dead blurred into an indistinguishable haze of terror and despair.

“I close the bridge!” You shouted, your voice trembling with fear. “I close the bridge. Goodbye.”

You forced the planchette to the goodbye in the bottom corner and ran for the lights. Your fingers fumbled in the darkness, searching desperately for the light switch. When your trembling hand finally found it, you flicked it on, and the room was once again bathed in an artificial glow. You squinted, your eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness, and as the shadows receded, you realized there was nothing else in the room. Only you, surrounded by empty walls that seemed to close in on you, suffocating your already fragile spirit. But your eyes fell upon the board, the planchette still sat atop “goodbye” as though nothing was wrong - as if your feelings of dread were unfounded and childish, as if it was taunting you.

A sense of profound isolation settled over you, deeper than anything you had ever felt before. The stark emptiness of the room now felt like a reflection of the void within your own being, the absence of your beloved Terzo amplifying the desolation that threatened to engulf you. There was a hollowness that echoed through the air, a palpable absence that seemed to seep into your very bones, reminding you that you were utterly alone in your torment.

A sudden chill swept through the room, the hairs on your arms standing on end, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something lingered in the shadows, something that watched and waited, biding its time. The light, once a source of reassurance, now seemed feeble, unable to dispel the encroaching darkness that threatened to swallow you whole. It was as if the very fabric of reality had shifted, revealing a sinister undercurrent that had always been there, just beyond the reach of your perception.

You realized then, in the harsh glare of the light, that the Ouija board had not brought you solace, but had opened a door to a darkness that threatened to swallow you whole; and as you stood there, surrounded by the emptiness of the room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had invited something insidious into your life, something that hungered for more than just a fleeting connection with the world of the living.

In the subsequent days, the unsettling occurrences began to multiply, each one chipping away at the fragile facade of your sanity. Objects would shift from their original places, relocating themselves without any logical explanation. A book left on the table would inexplicably appear on the shelf, a photograph moved from the mantle to the bedside table. You knew you hadn’t done it, yet there was no one else in the confines of your home within the Ministry walls.

The air itself seemed to thicken with an otherworldly presence, a feeling that someone, or something, was always lurking just out of sight, watching your every move. Whispers, barely audible at first, began to weave through the stillness of the apartment that didn’t resemble your roommates in the slightest, indistinct murmurs that insinuated themselves into your thoughts, sowing seeds of doubt and fear. You strained to catch the words, but they remained just beyond the reach of comprehension, leaving you with a deep sense of foreboding.

Footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, faint but unmistakable, as if someone were pacing just beyond your line of vision. You would hear them in the dead of night, when sleep eluded you, or in the quiet hours of the morning when the world outside was cloaked in silence. Your heart would race as you threw back the covers, expecting to catch a glimpse of an intruder, but there was never anyone there, only the lingering echo of something that defied rational explanation.

Taps, like a Morse code from an unseen sender, would break the silence, their rhythmic pattern reverberating through the walls. They came at odd hours, disrupting the stillness, a persistent reminder that you were not alone, that there was an entity that defied the boundaries of the physical world, teasing and toying with your senses. You would rush to investigate, your pulse thundering in your ears, only to find empty rooms, devoid of life, devoid of any explanation for the inexplicable phenomena that haunted your waking hours.

As the days bled into nights, and the nights stretched into an endless cycle of unease, you found yourself teetering on the precipice of reason, questioning the very fabric of reality. The once-familiar spaces of your home had become a labyrinth of uncertainty, each creak, each whisper, a reminder that something beyond comprehension had taken root in your life, and it showed no signs of relenting.

One night, as the moon cast its pale glow through the window, you woke with a start, a prickling sensation crawling up your spine. Your gaze fell upon the figure standing at the foot of your bed, shrouded in shadows, yet unmistakably possessing the same contours, the same silhouette as your beloved Terzo. Your heart quickened with a surge of hope and desperation, but as your vision adjusted to the dim light, a sinking dread replaced the initial flicker of relief.

The figure exuded an aura of malevolence, an energy that seemed to twist and contort the familiar features into something twisted and sinister. The shape resembled Terzo, yet its essence felt foreign, an imposter donning the guise of your lost love, a specter that mocked the memory of the one you held dear. There was no distinctive features on his face - simply just a shadow of him watching you as you slept.

A sense of primal fear rooted you to the bed, rendering you incapable of movement, your voice trapped in your throat, stifled by the weight of the moment. You tried to convince yourself that it was a trick of the shadows, a manifestation of your own grief-stricken mind, but the palpable presence before you defied any rational explanation. It was as if a malevolent force had seized upon your deepest longing, your most profound sorrow, to manifest itself in the form of a distorted, twisted version of the one you yearned for.

As the figure lingered there, its gaze boring into your very soul, you sensed a wave of darkness emanating from it, tendrils of a presence that seemed to seep into the fabric of your being, infecting you with a terror that transcended the physical realm. The air grew colder, the room suffused with an oppressive weight that threatened to suffocate you, and you realized with a shudder that this entity, this phantom masquerading as Terzo, harbored intentions far more sinister than mere visitation.

You dared not speak, dared not move, as the figure loomed over you, its form shifting subtly, as if it reveled in your fear. It was a twisted reflection of the one you loved, a corrupted specter that had breached the boundaries of the afterlife, determined to torment you in ways that transcended the limits of mortal comprehension.

Despite every instinct screaming for you to remain still, to avoid provoking the sinister apparition, you couldn’t resist the primal urge to banish the darkness that threatened to consume you. With trembling hands, you fumbled for the switch, and as the room flooded with light, the menacing shadow dissipated like smoke in the wind, leaving behind only the faint echo of its chilling presence. Relief mingled with lingering dread, as you realized that the source of the terror was not just the unknown, but a darkness that dwelled within, a darkness that threatened to devour you whole.

You arrived to work the next morning, throwing yourself down on your chair in the office you shared with the new head of the church. Your body was exhausted beyond belief. Your lack of sleep had caught up with you, manifesting itself as dark circles around your eyes. Cardinal Copia looked at you, faux concern in his mismatched eyes, those very eyes boring into your soul to try and figure out the sickness plaguing you. “Is everything okay, Sorella?” He asked, his voice cautious.

The way you looked at him was deadly: the very epitome of ‘if looks could kill’. His presence was a stark reminder of the night that had claimed Terzo’s life, a cruel twist of fate that elevated this thing to a position that rightfully belonged to your beloved. The clutch of animosity wound tightly around your heart, each beat a reminder of the seething hatred that consumed you, wishing that it was him, not Terzo, who had met a gruesome end.

You forced yourself to endure his presence, the facade of civility barely concealing the churning storm of resentment that raged within. Every word, every gesture from him was a reminder of the irreparable loss, a wound that time could not heal. And as you bore the burden of his company, you couldn’t help but silently wish for a reversal of fates, for the one who was truly deserving of a fate so dire to be the one occupying the space that he callously usurped.

You sought comfort in his arms when you found Terzo’s blood spilling from his neck for no other reason than he was the closest person to you. You remember how long you rotted in your bed for after Terzo’s death. How you would sell your soul to any willing customer if it meant Terzo could come back and hold you in his strong, capable arms just one more time. If it meant you could get a proper goodbye.

The rage you felt when you had finally finished rotting was terrifying. It was if your body had been set ablaze by the very fires of Hell that had taken your beloved from you. For the first time in two weeks, you left your bed and stormed to Imperator’s door, intending on introducing her to the world of pain that she’d thrown you into. Luckily for her, she wasn’t there. But her office was.

The rage that had been simmering within you for so long finally erupted, surging through your veins like a torrential wave. You couldn’t contain the flood of emotions any longer, the injustice, the sorrow, the burning desire for retribution all gathering into an overwhelming, burning, red-hot inferno that propelled you into action. Without a second thought, you stormed into his Imperator’s office, the bitch who had been instrumental in orchestrating the events that led to Terzo’s tragic end.

You overturned her meticulously arranged desk, the clatter of papers and office supplies a symphony of your fury. The framed photographs that adorned her shelves met the same fate, crashing to the floor in a cacophony of shattered glass and splintered frames. You spared nothing in your path, fueled by a primal need to lash out at the source of your suffering, to make them feel even a fraction of the pain that had consumed you since that fateful day.

The very act of desecration, of defiling a space that represented the sanctity of another’s life, only served to stoke the flames of your vengeful rampage. You tore through the room with a fervor that bordered on madness, each item, each trinket, each cherished memory of a life you would never get back meeting a violent end at your hands. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the visceral release of the anguish that had festered within you, and you were determined to leave nothing unscathed in your wake.

Your punishment: removal from your job at the Ministry’s beautiful library and thrown into Copia’s cramped office space as his only personal assistant. As if she couldn’t twist the knife any further.

If Copia was the one who benefited from Terzo’s death, his sick and twisted mother was the one who orchestrated it with his waste-of-space father trailing behind like an ancient, lost child. Sister Imperatrix of the Ministry with the power of a Prime Mover - no - the power of a Papa. Ordering the execution of the only light in your world and the result was now sitting there in ridiculous paints reminiscent of a rat’s skull, in Papal robes that were magically whipped up in the short time between Terzo’s death and Copia’s concave where all cardinals voted for him with an overwhelming majority. You wondered how many strings Imperator had to pull in order to get her pathetic son into the top spot.

“Everything is fine.” You responded, curtly. You didn’t want to give him the time of day, especially now that you were severely sleep deprived.

“Is something bothering you?”

Your eyes that had finally drifted from his face turned back to his, head turning slowly as if to ask him if he was serious. The look on his face told you that he was. “I said I’m fine.”

“That’s no way to speak to the head of our church, is it, Sorella?” A woman’s voice asked from the door. Imperator.

You saw red. “Oh I can get much, much worse.” You stood from your desk, raging eyes fixated on the face you were so desperate to rearrange. “Would you like a demonstration?”

Copia stood, too. He rushed to your side and put his hands on your shoulders. “S-Sorella, please. Calm down.”

You shook him off. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“Ghouls!” Imperator shouted.

“No, Sorella, please! She’s still grieving.” Copia pleaded. “Leave her be.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me!” You shouted. “How dare you stand there barking orders when this was never meant to be your position in the first place!?”

You saw two Ghouls enter from the second room, one of them belonged to Terzo. The bastard even took one of his Ghouls! The other one was new, fresh out of training.

Imperator, “Escort Sorella ____ to-”

Copia interjected. “The library! I… I have a l-list of books for you to get for me, Sorella.” He rummaged through the drawer of his desk frantically looking for a small piece of paper with his list. He handed it to you, almost flinching at your gaze, but his eyes were pleading with you to obey. “Please, Sorella. It’s urgent.”

You snatched the piece of paper out of his hand and sighed sharply. “Fine.” You stormed passed him and headed straight for Imperator, barging passed her and smacking your shoulder against hers. “Move.” You snapped, before slamming Copia’s office door.

The library breathed with an eerie stillness that seemed to whisper of secrets long forgotten. As you stepped through the labyrinth of towering bookshelves, the soft shuffle of your footsteps echoed like a solemn requiem, the silence wrapping around you like a suffocating shroud. A sense of foreboding settled in your bones, each creak of the floorboards beneath your feet a sinister murmur that taunted your senses. The subtle flicker of the overhead lights cast grotesque shadows along the rows of books, distorting the familiar into monstrous silhouettes that seemed to leer at you from the corners of your vision.

Amidst the oppressive silence, a faint murmur began to weave through the air, distant whispers that curled and twisted like wisps of smoke, reaching out from the fringes of your perception. You strained to discern the words, but they remained just beyond the threshold of your understanding, an indistinct sound that hinted at a presence lingering just beyond the realm of the living. Your heart quickened, a drumbeat of mounting apprehension, as you tried to dismiss the inexplicable sounds as mere figments of an overactive imagination. But as you continued to gather the books, the whispering seemed to grow more insistent, more insidious, as if the very walls of the library were conspiring to confound your senses.

A chill slithered down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as you became acutely aware of a gaze fixed upon you, unseen yet palpable, like a weight pressing down from above. You turned, your breath catching in your throat, and there, mere inches away, stood the ghostly apparition of Terzo. His form wavered in the dim light, a translucent specter suspended between the worlds of the living and the dead. His eyes, hollow sockets that seemed to bore into the depths of your soul, emanated a sorrow so profound it threatened to swallow you whole. A blood-curdling scream tore from your lips, reverberating through the library’s cavernous expanse, as the books slipped from your grasp, their clattering descent a discordant symphony to the nightmarish encounter that had shattered the illusion of normalcy, plunging you into the unrelenting grip of a horror that defied reason and reality. You fell to the floor yourself, staring up in horror at the sight.

In that fleeting moment, the veil of horror that had enveloped the encounter seemed to unravel, revealing a facade that had concealed a prank orchestrated by the mischievous spirit. The shadows that had loomed large in the corners of the room now appeared benign, mere illusions conjured by Terzo’s playful spirit. The whispers that had chilled your spine with their ghostly murmurings now sounded like echoes of a shared joke, a spectral trickster reveling in the intricacies of his spectral jest.

You sat there, shaken and bewildered, as the ghostly apparition of your beloved Terzo exuded an air of lighthearted amusement, the weight of the previous horrors lifting with each flicker of his ghostly form. His eyes, once filled with a haunting sorrow, now sparkled with an impish delight that hinted at the lingering essence of his vibrant personality. It was as if he had found a way to bridge the gap between the worlds, to offer you a glimpse of his enduring spirit, and he used it to fuck with you.

“Sorella!” A voice sounded behind you, making you turn to look at the Sibling, looking on at you in concern. They reached out to you. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I-I’m fine, thank you. I just-” You turned to look at where Terzo was standing to find that he’d disappeared again. “Lost my balance. Heavy books and all.”

“Here, let’s get you up.” The sibling pulled you to your feet and helped straighten your habit, before bending to pick up your books for you. You didn’t recognise them from when you worked here, they must have been your replacement. All the while, you stood there, dumbfounded by your encounter with Terzo’s apparition, apprehensive to fully believe what you’d just seen. It must be the grief causing you to hallucinate.

“Are you okay?” They asked once they saw the look on your face. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine, thanks. Just having trouble sleeping, is all. Thanks.” You took the pile of books off them and went to walk away.

“Listen, people talk… and they’re talking a lot about you, these days. The other librarians - well, they filled me in on what I missed before I was hired here. I remember seeing your face every time I came in here and, well, wondered where you went. They told me everything. I… I’m sorry to hear about Papa Terzo. It hurt us all to hear of his passing, but you were much closer to him than the rest of us.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but I really need to get these back to the Cardinal.”

They nodded. “Just, if you need a friend, I’m always about and available for a listen. And we have loads of books on grief… if you need them.”

You nodded awkwardly. The relationship you shared with Terzo was particularly unusual for a Sibling of Sin and a Papa, especially when that Sibling wasn’t the Papa’s Prime Mover. You cast your mind back to the very start of your relationship, how you instantly became famous for being Terzo’s favourite whore: the one to lock down the fuck boy. Now you were his grieving widow in the eyes of the Ministry, and their looks of pity as you passed them in the corridor didn’t escape you. Nor did their sad, little whispers commenting on your demeanor, or appearance. Though this Sibling seemed kind, there was no doubt in your mind that you’d be unable to trust them as far as you could throw them. Confide in them and your business would be all round the Ministry by tea time. Instead, you thanked them for their kindness, gathered the remainder of your books and threw them on Copia’s desk, announcing to him that you’d be taking the rest of the day off. Any protests he had died on his tongue before he had the chance to utter the words. Despite his authority over the church now, he was still as cowardly as he used to be.

As you stepped through the threshold of your home, the faintest hint of Terzo’s cologne wafted through the air, infusing the space with a familiar warmth that enveloped you like a long-awaited embrace. The fragrance, a delicate blend of musk, cedar, and coffee, carried with it a sense of comfort, a poignant reminder of the one you had loved and lost. It wrapped around you like a soothing blanket, dispelling the remnants of fear and uncertainty that had clung to you since the spectral encounter at the library.

Each inhalation brought forth a flood of memories, of moments shared and cherished, of laughter and tenderness that lingered in the very fabric of your being. It was as if Terzo’s essence had found its way back to you, a gentle presence that sought to reassure you, to offer solace in the wake of the day’s unsettling events. The scent, once a haunting reminder of his absence. Tears welled in your eyes the moment the door closed, and you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing into your hands until a headache formed. Exhausted and emotionally spent, you eventually fell into a fitful sleep right there, at the entrance of your home, the cold floor beneath you a stark reminder of the emptiness that now pervaded your life.

As you stirred back to consciousness, the darkness that surrounded you seemed to press in closer, enveloping you in a shroud of impenetrable blackness. You had no idea how long you’d been asleep for, but you recognised the familiar ache in your back from hours spent in an uncomfortable position, and the moonlight shining through the window gave you an indication. You’d been dead to the world for a while. Despite the ache, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, remaining parallel to the floor in your misery.

A sense of palpable presence lingered in the room, an intangible weight that settled upon your consciousness, evoking a feeling of being watched, yet not with the malevolence that had haunted your previous encounters. Instead, it carried an air of quiet companionship, a spectral reassurance that you were not alone in your moment of vulnerability.

Though the shadows obscured the source of the presence, you felt an inexplicable warmth, a gentle energy that seemed to radiate from the very air around you. It was as if a benevolent spirit had taken residence in the room, offering a silent solace in the wake of your ceaseless mourning. In the stillness of the night, you found a strange comfort in the notion that Terzo’s spirit, in whatever form it had taken, lingered close, a silent guardian watching over you in the darkest hours of your grief.

The weight of the encounter at the library and the haunting scent of his cologne now seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of peace that settled within the quiet space between heartbeats. It was a moment of communion with the unknown, a shared understanding that transcended the limitations of the mortal realm, offering a glimmer of solace in the infinite expanse of your sorrow.

In the stillness of the night, with the enigmatic presence as your silent witness, you allowed yourself to surrender to the gentle embrace of sleep once more, secure in the knowledge that even in the absence of the tangible, the spirit of Terzo would continue to watch over you, a silent sentinel standing guard over the shattered fragments of your grieving heart.

The sensation of a gentle touch, a warm pressure on your shoulder, stirred your emotions back up, more tears beginning to form in your eyes. In the darkness, you could almost see Terzo sitting beside you, his presence a soothing balm to the ache that had settled deep within your soul. His hand, though insubstantial, carried with it an unmistakable tenderness, a gesture of comfort that transcended the confines of the physical world.

That hand travelled from your shoulder, tickling your bicep and holding onto your hip as he so often did when you lay in bed together, naked and exhausted from a night full of passion. His scent, as it did then, enveloped you entirely now. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him. “Why did you scare me?” You asked.

As the gentle spectral touch of Terzo’s hand gradually dissipated, a newfound sense of courage welled within you, buoyed by the lingering reassurance of his presence. The memory of the Ouija board, once a source of trepidation in the wake of recent spectral encounters, now resurfaced with a renewed sense of purpose. Though the thought of delving into the ethereal realm had initially filled you with a sense of dread, you now felt a resolute determination to connect with Terzo once more, to bridge the gap between the living and the departed in a bid to seek solace and understanding.

With a steady resolve, you retrieved the Ouija board from its place, the weight of its wooden surface a tangible reminder of the mysteries that lay beyond the veil of the known world. You positioned it before you, the letters and numbers now aglow with a faint, otherworldly luminescence. The planchette, a conduit to the realm of spirits, beckoned to you, and you placed your fingertips upon its smooth surface, ready to invite Terzo’s spirit into the sacred space between the living and the dead.

The room seemed to hum with a quiet energy, the air charged with an anticipation that transcended the physical realm. You closed your eyes, allowing your thoughts to coalesce around the memory of Terzo, your love for him pulsing through every fiber of your being. With each deliberate movement of the planchette, you sought to establish a connection, to bridge the gap that separated you, to invite his spirit to commune with you once more. In the hushed stillness of the night, you whispered his name, the sound carrying on the breath of a fervent prayer, a fervent plea to transcend the boundaries of mortality and find a semblance of peace in the communion of spirits. You lit candles, and called out to him.“Terzo?”

Anticipation coursed through you as the planchette stirred beneath your fingertips, its smooth surface gliding across the letters etched onto the Ouija board. The movement was deliberate, purposeful, as if guided by an unseen force that resonated with the very essence of Terzo’s spirit. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering with a mixture of trepidation and awe, as the planchette continued its mysterious journey across the board.

Yes.

“Is this actually you?”

More movement, only to bring you back to the same word: Yes.

“If this is you, then tell me something only you would know. When did you first realise you loved me?”

O-B-S-E-R-V-A-T-O-R-Y.

The Ministry prided itself on knowledge and spared no expense when it was being built all those millennia ago. The library itself was a stunning space, and one of your favourite locations to be in, but the observatory was next level. The room was circular and made of white marble, with Italian columns spaced equidistant between the large wall high windows. There was a short ledge between the walls and the perfectly domed glass ceiling for structural reasons, but that was also covered in long, rectangular windows so more light could get in. There was an arched door on the other end of the room that led out to the balcony, which allowed for complete unobstructed stargazing if one so wished. On the other side of the room, right near the entrance was a white, leather, curved sofa that extended the length of the wall, with desks on wheels that allowed for extra work space.

Terzo caught you during one of your shifts, laying on the wooden ground with your ankles crossed and your hands resting on your stomach. A pillow was beneath you head yet your eyes were open. You were taking a break and had come to bask in the sunset. He’d opened the door quietly so as not to disturb you and continued to watch you for a few more seconds before he spoke. “Ah, Sorella. We don’t pay you to sleep on the job.” Because of how empty the room was, his voice echoed a little giving it more power than he intended.

The sound of his voice scared you and you sat up sharply, turning your head quickly before you locked eyes with him. There was panic reflected there, like you’d been caught misbehaving by Satan himself - but you’d essentially been caught by your boss’ boss’ boss slacking. You stood quickly. “I’m so sorry, Papa! I was just taking a quick break.”

He laughed at you, not cruelly, just because you were cute. “Va bene. You looked like you were having a great time, sì?”

“Sì.”

“Dimmi i tuoi pensieri.”

“Hm?”

He chuckled softly. “The Italian lessons are going well, I see.”

“I start tomorrow.”

“Tell me your thoughts.”

You sighed and looked back at the sunset, but he continued looking at you. “Just having one of those moments where you stop and take stock and appreciate what you have. Italian sunsets are something else, aren’t they?”

No words were needed at this moment, just a soft noise of agreement. He hadn’t realised how quiet the room was until you looked back at him, and your eyes met. In the light of the sunset you were truly breathtaking. He shook his head and took a small step away from you, pulling himself out of whatever spell you’d bewitched him with. But it didn’t matter how much he tried to deny it, he was falling head over heels in love with you.

It really was him. A sense of frustration washed over you. “Why the fuck did you scare me like that?”

F-U-N-N-Y.

“Fuck you!”

S-U-R-E.

You rolled your eyes. This was a typical Terzo conversation, and usually it would end with him on your body, or as he would prefer, inside it. “Nice try, dipshit. You’re dead. That wouldn’t work.” Your final sentence took on a sombre tone, your excitement washing away and replacing it with sadness. Your brain had forgotten that little detail all too quickly, and the reality was about to come crashing down around you. The sound of the planchette moving distracted you, temporarily at least.

W-A-I-T.

“Wait? Wait for what?”

Nothing.

“Terzo? Wait for what?”

You waited for a little while longer, trying desperately to regain the connection you just had with him, but it had vanished. Terzo had disappeared.

In fact, he remained gone for three days. There was nothing. No cruel jumpscares, no smells, no sounds, no touches. Not a single thing from him. You left the board out just in case he wanted to talk to you while you were at home, but the planchette only moved at your touch and not his. The cold shoulder hit you like a shock to your system. Finally, after weeks of being without him, you’d made contact with him. For days he’d been around you - even if it was at the expense of your sanity. And now all of a sudden there was nothing - it felt like you’d been thrown into ice cold water and left to fend for yourself.

But Terzo said wait. And so, wait you would.

This was your first Black Mass since Terzo’s execution, and so it felt weird sitting in the large chapel of the Ministry after so many weeks away. Of course, as you expected, all eyes were on you as soon as you walked in, the congregation whispering to each other to spread the news of your arrival like wildfire. In order to keep yourself as private as possible, you chose to sit in the back row, and as more and more Siblings and the Ghouls of previous Papas filed in, you realised they all didn’t want to sit beside you… the exception being Terzo’s Ghouls,who had also suffered a great loss.

Moss threw himself on the pew next to you, gripping onto your hand like a friend would. You weren’t sure if you could consider Terzo’s Ghouls your friends, but it was nice to have a familiar face. “It’s good to see you here today.” He said, softly.

You nodded. “It’s good to see you too. I didn’t want to be here today. I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to come back.”

“Small steps. Papa would hate for you to become a recluse.” He squeezed your hand in an attempt to comfort you further, and encourage you to keep this up. “This is already a huge step. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Moss.”

The entrance of the Clergy Officials, garbed in their varied black and red regalia, sent a ripple of apprehension through the congregation, marking the imminent commencement of the Mass. Everyone stood out of respect, but you and the other Ghouls remained seated in protest of the Clergy’s actions thus far. Stream had explained it to you a while ago: during the mourning period, they would remain seated. You observed with a simmering contempt as these figures, each a pillar of the dark hierarchy, took their seats, their presence casting a formal cloud over the gathered worshippers. Their eyes, shrouded by the dark recesses of their Cardinal makeup, seemed to linger with an unsettling scrutiny, as if they could discern the innermost secrets of those in attendance.

Following closely behind the officials, with an air of regal authority, came the figures you despised the most: Copia’s parents, Sister Imperator and the idiotic Papa Nihil. Their commanding presence exuded an aura of foreboding power, their very essence a testament to the malevolent legacy that had entrenched itself within the heart of the Church. The smirk etched across Sister Imperator’s face as her gaze met yours sent a chill down your spine, the shit-eating expression on her face threatening to engulf you in a suffocating shroud of dread. She was so sure she’d won whatever war she had fought; she was so sure she was invincible. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, a potent mixture of anger and indignation boiling within you, demanding release in the face of her insidious mockery. The weight of her disdainful gaze seemed to sear into your very soul, a silent reminder of the hierarchy of darkness that ruled over the congregation.

Beside you, Moss, sensing the uproar of emotions raging within you, placed a reassuring hand on your arm, his touch anchoring you to the present moment. His silent gesture of solidarity implored you to remain composed, to resist the urge to confront the Imperator, whose every calculated move seemed designed to provoke and unsettle.

And then, with a quick stride, Cardinal Copia entered the hall, his visage an unsettling blend of awkwardness and authority, as though he had to keep reminding himself of his position. As he ascended the dais to lead the congregation in the unholy proceedings, you felt a surge of revulsion, a potent mixture of hatred and disdain directed at the figure who now wielded power in the name of the malevolent forces that governed the realm of darkness, and his lineage who had taken a comfortable seat on the wooden pews of the front row.

Copia had always seemed somewhat pathetic to you, a character whose uncertainty and timidity had once been palpable, but it appeared that he had undergone a transformation of sorts, now imbued with a newfound confidence that emanated from his position as the leader of the dark congregation. He was introverted and not conventionally attractive, which meant many members of the Ministry had it out for him. Rumours about him spread like wildfire, and all of them were more unbelievable and cruel than the last. Before all of this, you refused to believe them, and couldn’t understand where they came from. But now? Now you’d believe them just to spite him. Given how much everyone loved Papa Terzo, no one could imagine him being deposed by… well… a Cardinal who didn’t really have any friends. He often stumbled over his words and spoke quietly, had terrible posture and a gaze that always lingered for moments too long. A wallflower tasked with taking command of a congregation. He never should have stood a chance, yet there he was, making speeches and reading texts, shunning Catholicism for its evils while he was speaking with the voice of hypocrisy.

The congregation, an eclectic mix of followers, now hung on Copia’s every, quiet, word, their devotion to the sinister doctrines palpable in the eerie silence that pervaded the hall. As he intoned incantations and recited dark liturgy, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of unease, a discomfort that mingled with your disdain for the man who had once been a mere annoyance but now held a position of dark power.

A shiver coursed down your spine as the sensation of a presence lingering behind you tugged at the edges of your awareness. With a mounting sense of anticipation, you slowly pivoted to steal a glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to find the spectral form of Terzo standing there, his gaze fixed upon you with a reassuring warmth. However, to your disquieting realization, there was no one there, no discernible figure or apparition to account for the palpable energy that seemed to permeate the very air around you.

As you turned back to face the front once more, you carried with you the unreal comfort of Terzo’s spiritual presence. The mysterious energy of the room seemed to shift, imbued with a faint glimmer of hope that defied the darkness that threatened to consume it. You felt the hairs on your body stand on end, electrified by the energy now surrounding you. A weight appeared on your shoulders, not too heavy to burden, but heavy enough to remind you that he was there. You felt feather light touches on your bicep as Terzo’s scent filled your mind and clouded your senses, soft grazes against the sensitive part of your neck - a favourite spot for Terzo when he was alive, he loved to hear you gasp.

The gasp that left your body at that moment was loud enough to disturb the people around you, causing them to turn and look at you in alarm or concern. You nodded and mouthed a silent apology to appease them, but Moss’ eyes still lingered. He said nothing, but you could see that a question was bubbling in his throat. Meanwhile, yours had the ghostly feeling of Terzo’s lips pressed against the skin, tormenting you in front of all the Siblings. This would usually be the part of the proceedings where he’d whisper sweet nothings in your ear, remind you that you needed to be silent or people would suspect something. But you knew him well enough to know he’d claim you in front of the entire congregation if he saw fit to do so. Lucifer, how you wished you could hear him right now.

The feeling on your bicep ended, only to be replaced by fingers pawing at your clothed clitoris, rubbing deftly over the fabric simply to torment you and tease you. You released another gasp, this time repressed enough to disturb only Moss, who was now staring at you intensely. Your toes pressed against the marble floor to keep yourself sitting upright as your thick thighs parted involuntarily, granting better access to Terzo’s phantasmal fingers. Terzo, of course, took advantage of this - you could almost feel the rumbling of his chest as he chuckled at you for being so desperate for him, during Mass no less.

The fabric of your panties never moved or shifted, visually it was as if nothing was wrong, but you felt Terzo’s fingers much more solidly on your clit, as if he’d moved the fabric to the side and was now making direct contact with the bundle of nerves, set alight for the first time in weeks. He applied more pressure with each circle he rubbed into your folds, before you felt his fingers dip inside you.

You were so wet and ready for him, and despite him beginning with two fingers, your body was feeling no pain. There was the familiar stretch that you loved, but none of the delicious bite that accompanied it. Your mouth fell open with the unbridled pleasure only his fingers could bring, with the way they tapped upwards immediately and hit against your g-spot in a way that almost had you screaming out loud if it wasn’t for your hands against your mouth, muffling your cries to absolute silence.

“Sister,” Moss whispered from beside you, “are you okay?”

You simply nodded in response, not trusting your voice to answer for you. The hand that wasn’t clasped against your mouth flew to Moss’ open hand and began to squeeze, searching for comfort. Your hips had shifted, pressing your covered clit against the wooden pew, gently rocking them back and forth and rubbing yourself against it for the extra stimulation. To Moss, it just looked like you were in pain. He didn’t see the way your nipples were erect and rubbing against the lace of your bra, and he certainly couldn’t hear the way your wet cunt was succumbing to Terzo’s fingers, ebbing you ever closer to an intense orgasm at the back of Black Mass, your fingernails digging into the meat of Moss’ hand.

Knowing that you hadn’t orgasmed in so long, and knowing what Terzo’s fingers were capable of, apparently even in death, you knew that what was building inside of you was going to explode at any given time, and it would overtake your entire body. You had to go. You had to leave before he made you cum.

“I h-have to g-go!” You whispered to Moss, straightening yourself up and quietly running out of the Church. In your haste to escape, you didn’t notice the way Moss and the other Ghouls were staring at you - and you certainly had no idea that Copia had witnessed your escape.

The sunlight glared onto your face as you made your getaway, looking around the courtyard frantically for shelter or somewhere you could cool off. Terzo’s fingers had retracted from your cunt, but you could still feel him on your body. He wasn’t finished with you yet. Ideally, you’d make your way back to your home and deal with this there, but as you stood outside trying to force your clouded brain to make a plan, you could feel Terzo’s body pressed against yours, his hands running all over your soft body, grabbing at you as he saw fit. He pulled at the fat of your hips, squeezed your pillowy breasts, rubbed your hidden nipples between his fingers as he groped you for his own pleasure -and perhaps yours. Your body felt like it was on fire wherever his touches landed.

You just let your feet carry you round the back of the Church to the quiet gardens. This would do - it would have to. You felt Terzo’s hands back on your body, pushing against your shoulders and pinning you against a nearby tree. You still couldn’t see him - you had no idea where he was or what he was planning as his hands disappeared. That was until you felt extra wetness press against your panties. His tongue. Oh, fuck, his tongue. It laved over the gusset of your panties, savouring the taste of your wetness and rubbing you over and over again. Your panties fit you perfectly, but in this moment, in this desperation with the feeling of Hellfire burning your entire body to a crisp, it felt like too much. They needed to be off of you; and so, in a frantic movement, you pulled them off your body and threw them somewhere onto the grass, leaning back against the tree and spreading yourself open for your spectral lover, who dove back into your folds like a man starved. He began roughly licking and sucking on your clit as your hips bucked wantonly against his ghostly face, providing you with as much stimulation as he could to get you to climax as quickly as possible. He seemed just as needy as you.

Your hands were itching to tangle in his locks, desperate to tug on the black strands and push his face into your cunt. You needed to ride his face and take what you needed from his tongue, but there was nothing to see - nothing to grab. You needed to grab something. So, you pulled your habit up over your breasts, exposing your voluptuous body to the elements and any lucky passerby, and pulled and tugged at your nipples through your bra, whining at the sensitivity. Your moans after that fell naturally, easily, just as they always did whenever Terzo was in-between your thighs.

“Fuck, Papa! Just like that. Please.” You begged to the air, pulling at yourself hard. “I’m so fucking close, Papa! Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Oh, fuck!”

You felt his mouth suction against you harder, the vibrations of an unheard growl shocking you and making you scream a little louder. It felt incredible to have his magical tongue lavish you in pleasure once more - almost intoxicating. You needed this. You needed him. You were so close. Just a little more - just a little longer.

Yes.

Yes!

With one final suck of his mouth on your clit, and a particularly hard tug from your fingers, your orgasm struck you, hitting you like a freight train and knocking the wind out of you. Your lungs burned with the need for oxygen, but your entire body cramped and froze as your orgasm took control, filling you with pleasure that started at your cunt and ran all the way through your body, nerve-endings screaming at the exertion, and cum oozing out of your cunt and running down your thighs as the majority of it flooded the ground and the tree’s exposed roots beneath you.

When your orgasm subsided, you were exhausted. It had been so long since you had one, let alone one of that strength. It was in the haze, you’d realised what had just happened. You realised that your cum was dripping down your legs and that your entire body was exposed. You realised that you were alone. How you’d kill to have Terzo’s arms wrapped around you right now, to tell you how good you’d been for him, to tell you how much he loved you as he always did when you were recovering from his onslaught. Before you had the chance to break down against the tree you’d just been pinned to, you picked up your panties from the grass and trudged all the way back across the Ministry’s grounds, knees like jelly, and threw yourself on your bed once you arrived home.

In the days that followed the unsettling encounter during the Black Mass, the memory of Terzo’s spectral presence lingered like a ghostly echo, a haunting reminder of the unbelievable nature of his existence beyond the realms of the living. His touch haunted you as though he was still there - the places his fingers and mouth had been still burned through to your soul, and had you touching yourself in the darkness of your room in an attempt to recreate that feeling. It didn’t matter how many times you orgasmed at the thought of him, how much your own fingers traced against your skin, it didn’t feel the same. It never did - even when he was alive and away on tour. The longing to see him, to feel the warmth of his touch, to hear the timbre of his voice, gnawed at the depths of your being, leaving an ache that seemed to seep into every crevice of your soul. The inability to bridge the gap between the real and the ethereal only served to magnify the sense of loss that pervaded your every waking moment, casting a shadow over even the most mundane of tasks.

Each passing day brought with it a relentless yearning, a longing that refused to be assuaged by the fleeting memories and spectral encounters that punctuated the fabric of your existence. The knowledge that Terzo’s spirit lingered just beyond the veil of perception served as a bittersweet solace, a faint glimmer of hope in the vast expanse of grief and longing that threatened to consume you whole. Yet, the inability to fully connect with his essence, to share in the tangible manifestations of his love and presence, left you feeling adrift in a world that seemed to have lost its vibrancy and meaning.

As you navigated the mundane rhythms of daily life, the ache of his absence remained a constant companion, a silent echo of a love that transcended the limitations of mortality. The void that Terzo’s departure had left in your life seemed to expand with each passing day, a cavernous emptiness that defied the passage of time and the distractions of the outside world. In the silence of your solitude, you grappled with the enigmatic nature of existence, with the elusive threads that connected the realms of the living and the dead, and with the unyielding longing for a connection that surpassed the boundaries of life and death. There must be something you could do…

The library welcomed you with its familiar hush as you stepped through its hallowed doors, seeking respite from the ceaseless agitation of your own thoughts. The soft rustle of pages turning and the faint murmur of distant conversations enveloped you, offering a semblance of comfort in the labyrinth of towering bookshelves that lined the expansive halls. With a determined resolve, you navigated the aisles, the scent of aging paper and polished wood a soothing balm to the turbulence that churned within your restless soul.

As you perused the countless volumes that adorned the shelves, your fingers traced the spines of books that promised insights into the enigmatic realms of the afterlife and the mysteries that veiled the boundaries between the living and the dead. You delved into the intricate narratives of spiritual encounters and spectral manifestations, each page offering a glimmer of understanding, a fragment of solace amidst the haunting echoes of your longing for Terzo’s presence.

Amidst the neatly organized rows of books, your fingers alighted upon a weathered tome that seemed to emanate an aura of ancient mystique. As you withdrew it from the shelf, the book revealed itself to be a relic of another era, its faded leather cover bearing the weight of countless years and the touch of countless curious readers. The rich, earthy scent of aged parchment and ink enveloped you, infusing the air with a sense of timelessness that seemed to transcend the confines of the library’s walls.

The cover, weathered and worn with the passage of time, bore intricate embossments of ethereal figures and swirling mists, hinting at the enigmatic knowledge that lay within its pages. Traces of gold leaf, faded but still resplendent, adorned the edges of the cover, their faint glimmer serving as a silent testament to the book’s storied past and the wisdom it held. Your fingertips traced the embossed grooves, the texture of the leather yielding beneath your touch, as if imparting a tangible connection to the ancient mysteries that the book sought to unveil.

As you dared to open its timeworn pages, the delicate rustle of aged paper echoed through the air, each turn revealing a tapestry of meticulously inked illustrations and intricate script that danced across the parchment. The words, etched with a precision that spoke of a bygone era, seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, their meaning transcending the confines of language and time. The sepia-toned illustrations, rendered with a meticulous hand, depicted ghostly apparitions in various states of ethereal existence, their forms wreathed in shadow and light, their spectral presence an enigmatic blend of the tangible and the intangible.

The weight of the book in your hands seemed to grow heavier, as if bearing the weight of the knowledge it contained, the essence of countless narratives that had woven themselves into the fabric of its pages.

As you delved deeper into the pages of the ancient tome, your eyes alighted upon a ritual that promised to bridge the realms of the living and the dead, to summon forth the spectral essence of those who had departed from the mortal plane. The words, etched with an archaic elegance, seemed to beckon to you from the faded parchment, offering a glimmer of hope in the face of your relentless longing for Terzo’s presence. With each line that you perused, a sense of anticipation bloomed within you, a fervent desire to transcend the boundaries of mortality and connect with his spirit once more, even if only for a fleeting moment.

The ritual, intricately detailed with symbols and incantations, unfolded before you like a map to the ethereal realm, its instructions offering a pathway to channel the energies of the unknown and summon forth the ghostly apparition of your beloved. Your fingers traced the ancient script, committing the intricate steps to memory, each syllable resonating within the depths of your consciousness, a whispered promise of reunion and communion with the spirit that had once been your guiding light.

In the back of your mind, you remembered the Sibling you encountered the last time you were here and how they reminded you that people talk. You knew that whoever was at the front desk would talk about how you’d borrowed a book about apparitions and ghostly rituals. So, you did the next best thing: you took a series of photos for each of the pages, allowing you to keep the information close to you and not get caught in the process.

You made your way from the sanctum of knowledge that was the library, the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, driving you forward on your quest to reunite with Terzo’s spirit, even if only for a fleeting moment. The path to the Ministry’s ritual supply shop unfolded before you, each step a testament to your unwavering determination to see the ritual through to its completion. The bustling corridors and busy hallways seemed to blur into the periphery of your consciousness as your mind remained fixated on the sacred task that lay ahead.

Upon arriving at the ritual supply shop, the air seemed to thicken with a palpable sense of mystique, as if the very atmosphere resonated with the esoteric energies that permeated the space. The shop, adorned with an eclectic array of mystical artifacts and arcane paraphernalia, offered a glimpse into a world that existed beyond the confines of the mundane. The soft flicker of black candles cast an ethereal glow, while the sight of crimson paint, rich and vibrant, beckoned to you with a silent promise of the ritual’s imminent fruition.

With a focused determination, you gathered the necessary materials, each item a vital component in the intricate dance of summoning that you sought to perform. The vibrant red paint, symbolizing the blood that pulsed through the veins of life, and the stark black candles, emblematic of the shadows that cloaked the realms of the unknown, spoke to the potent energies that the ritual sought to harness. Each item you procured held within it the potential to bridge the chasm between the worlds, to beckon forth the spirit that had eluded your grasp, to offer a glimpse of solace in the enigmatic communion that lay beyond the boundaries of mortal comprehension.

With the ritual supplies in hand, you felt the weight of the imminent encounter with Terzo’s spirit settle upon your shoulders, a burden that mingled with the fervent hope that guided your every step. The journey back to the confines of your abode seemed to pass in a blur, as your thoughts remained steadfastly fixed on the ritual that now loomed on the horizon, promising to unveil the secrets that lay veiled between the realms of the living and the dead. You were going to see him tonight - you’d make sure of it.

As the cloak of night enveloped the world outside, casting the surroundings into an eerie shroud of darkness, you stood within the designated room, a place now transformed into a sanctum of otherworldly intent. The air seemed to thrum with an otherworldly energy, charged with the anticipation of the ritual that was about to unfold. With a steady hand, you traced the intricate lines of the Satanic pentagram in vivid red upon the floor, each stroke a deliberate invocation of the esoteric forces that lay dormant within the confines of the symbol. The pentagram, a testament to the unyielding power of the occult, now bore the weight of the ritual’s purpose, serving as a conduit between the realms that sought to unite the living with the departed.

At each point of the pentagram, you placed the black candles, their flames flickering with an ethereal luminescence that cast dancing shadows across the room. The soft glow of their light lent an otherworldly aura to the space, imbuing the ritual with a solemn reverence that transcended the mere act of conjuration. As you knelt at the center of the pentagram, a profound sense of purpose enveloped you, the incantation poised on the tip of your tongue, ready to breathe life into the ancient words that had beckoned forth spirits for eons.

With a voice that quivered with a potent blend of determination and trepidation, you began to intone the incantation, each syllable a whispered invocation that resonated with the pulsing energy of the room. The words, spoken with a fervent reverence, seemed to weave themselves into the very fabric of the air, each verse carrying the weight of ancient wisdom and the fervent desire to bridge the gap between the worlds. In the flickering light of the candles and the crimson hue of the pentagram, you channeled the essence of your longing, the fervent plea to summon forth Terzo’s spirit, to invite him into the sacred space that now pulsed with the promise of communion between the realms of the living and the dead.

As the final syllables of the incantation lingered in the air, a profound stillness descended upon the room, punctuated only by the soft flicker of the black candles and the radiant glow of the pentagram that now seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy. And then, amidst the charged silence, the figure of Terzo appeared within the confines of the sacred circle, his form transparent and wreathed in a soft, ethereal blue aura that pulsed with the rhythm of the spirit realm. His presence, though you were unable to touch him, cast a spectral light upon the room, his essence a haunting blend of the familiar and the enigmatic.

You gazed upon him with a mixture of awe and longing, your senses heightened to the subtle nuances that marked his spectral manifestation. The transparency of his form, a mere echo of the physical solidity he once possessed, allowed you to see through him, to discern the faint outlines of the room beyond his spectral figure. Yet, in the ethereal light that bathed his essence, you found a familiarity that transcended the limitations of the physical world, a connection that pulsed with the enduring bond of love and longing that had persisted beyond the confines of mortality.

Though you couldn’t reach out to touch him, the echoes of his presence seemed to weave themselves into the very fabric of your being, his voice carrying on the subtle currents of the air, his gaze meeting yours with a silent reassurance that transcended the boundaries of the spectral plane. The scent of his cologne, now an intangible whisper that lingered in the space around you, evoked a potent wave of nostalgia and longing, intertwining with the enigmatic aura that surrounded his ghostly form.

You couldn’t touch him, but he could touch you. He saw the tears in your eyes and ran outside of the circle, hands cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes. There was life in his despite his current form, much different to the last time you saw them. “Tesoro!” He breathed, throwing himself down to the floor to your height to offer you some comfort as you felt all of the emotions a person could possibly feel all at once.

You sobbed. Relief flooded your body along with the pain of the grief you’d felt for all this time. The accumulation of all the agonising days rolled into this one meeting, and the shattered pieces of your heart began to stick back together piece by piece, starting with when you saw him standing there just moments ago, and continuing passed the sound of his voice calling for you.

You felt his lips trace ghostly kisses all over your face, starting at your forehead and working all across the expanse of skin, even moving his hands to get to your cheeks. For once, his paints didn’t transfer onto your face as it rubbed against you - and there was something so sad in that; something so heartbreaking in the notion that it would only be your makeup you’d be washing off your body tonight, and not his too. That you wouldn’t hear him come into the bathroom and laugh at your complaints every time his black paint stuck to your cheek and stained it temporarily. You’d give anything to have that just one more time.

“I m-missed you so much!” You wept into his spectral clothes, but your tears dripped onto the floor. You felt his arms wrap around you, but your own hand slid through his body and rested on your own when you tried to grip his arm.

“Lo so, amore mio. I have been with you this whole time.”

“Why did th-they do that to you? I d-don’t understand.”

He looked at you with sadness in his eyes. “You won’t understand. You don’t know everything, yet.”

“Then please explain it to me.”

He sighed. “Non posso. It is not the right time, and I am not the right person to do it. But I need you to remember that my brothers and I were not the only victims here. Besides you, there is another who lives and suffers daily through no fault of their own.”

“What does that mean?”

He shushed you and kissed your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. Non pensarci. Just enjoy this moment while we can, hm? I cannot be here all night.”

You nodded, but cried again. “Did you feel any pain?”

“No, no, no, tesoro. Do not torture yourself with my death, especially not now.” He kissed your lips in an attempt to kiss away the grief. “I need you here with me, now, sì?”

You nodded.

He kissed you again. The kiss was soft, yet full of passion, dripping with the love and adoration he felt for you even in death. You longed to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss and show him just how much you missed him, but what you had would have to do.

Despite the tender moment, despite the sweetness you were experiencing in his presence, you needed something more - something stronger. He’d done it before, you craved him to do it again. You let out the faintest of whimpers as you kissed him, and he picked up on it immediately, deepening the kiss and pulling you flush against his spiritual body.

His hands, like before, began wandering over your body, roaming over your curves and caressing you sweetly, tentatively. He slowly moved forward on his knees, pushing you down onto the cold wooden floor and hovering above you, his lips still attached to yours. One hand propped him up, the other ran from your knee, up your thigh and rested on your hip, your legs parted out of habit to allow him to kneel in between them.

“Tesoro,” he whispered, breaking the kiss and allowing his lips to travel across your cheek, to that sensitive spot on your neck, “the only woman I ever loved. The angel amongst the devils. Even in death, I yearned for this moment.” He kissed your neck, revelling in your gasps and sighs. “Will you undress for me, amore mio?”

He pulled himself away from you and watched you stand, undressing yourself slowly for him. You looked at his eyes the whole time, but didn’t begrudge the fact that his eyes were travelling everywhere. He watched your hands unzip your habit, darkened and hooded eyes watching it pool at your feet. Your bra was removed next, Terzo’s mouth slightly agape and almost drooling at the sight of your breasts falling free of their confines. He groaned deeply, a noise coming from the back of his throat, so low it sounded like he was purring.

He loved your body more than anyone else did. He loved the plush softness of it, how it jiggled when you moved, even slightly. How even repositioning yourself on the couch could get him harder than anything else in the world, just because your thighs would splay against the cushions, and your tummy would jiggle with the force of you sitting down. There were so many times he wished he could paint, because he would have painted you over and over again like you were Michelangelo’s favourite subject. It saddened him to know that this would be the last time he would ever get to see you like this, but at least his soul could rest happily in Hell with Lucifer as this being his final memory.

When you removed your panties, Terzo groaned. “Oh, bella!” He bent at the waist, allowing his forehead to touch the ground, his hands slamming against the wood of the floor. What followed was a string of Italian sentences you had trouble discerning at your low-level, but the way he was talking made you believe whatever he said should be written in a book for the rest of time. He was worshipping you, the very ground you walked on, playfully in true Terzo fashion, but no less insincere. His reaction to seeing you completely bare for him had you giggling, your previous tears long gone. He got to his feet and charged over to you, cupping your face in his hands when he reached you and pulling you into a desperate kiss. “Come, lie down for me.”

Once he had you spread out for him on the floor, he lavished you in kisses again. His lips and his tongue ran wherever they could, savouring every inch of you until there was nothing left to be explored before finally settling on your cunt. He began gently licking and sucking on your clit as your hips bucked wantonly against his ghostly face, providing you with as much stimulation as he could to get you to your end. This time, he wasn’t rushing his work. This time he was making sure to appreciate you, dining on you like a 12-course experience where each bite was a culinary masterpiece - because you were a masterpiece.

Your hips bucked at the sensations he was bestowing upon you, hands still desperate to tangle in his hair and frustration clouding your mind when you realised you couldn’t.

This time, you could hear every single noise his mouth was making against your pussy, the suction, the sound of his saliva swiping against your sopping folds. He worked you like it was his job, hitting every single spot to have you singing for him, writhing beneath him, driving him crazy. In a desperate need to do something with your hands, you moved to your nipples again, pinching, pulling, adding to the onslaught that his mouth was putting your clit through. His hands were clutching onto your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin there, but leaving no marks as much as you both wanted him to.

“Papa, I’m so close!”

He growled into your cunt, not wanting to stop and have you lose the feeling. You knew he wasn’t going to make you hold back - not this time. He wasn’t going to play with you, or torture you in the most delicious of ways, you both craved each other too much.

“Your tongue feels so good, Terzo! Fuck! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks of a cliffside. One of your hands moved to your mouth and got caught beneath your teeth as you bit down, your body freezing with the intensity of it. Drool spilled from your open mouth, your eyes glazing over and rolling back into your head. Your hands tightened where they were, forcing you to bite down hard on your finger and pinching hard on your nipple. Your lungs refused to fill with air, and your back arched off the floor. Your mind became filled with dizziness from the way your body was convulsing as a result of the intensity, even your voice could no longer work.

As soon as your body relaxed, Terzo detached himself from your core and crawled up over your body, frantically kissing your lips when he reached them. “Always so good for me, hm?” Another kiss, this time his tongue entered your mouth. “Cumming so well on my tongue. Amore mio, I cannot wait.”

“I need you inside me. Quickly, please!”

Terzo nodded dumbly, his hand fiddling at his crotch. Seconds later, he pushed inside of you, stretching you out to make you fit him perfectly inside. You always did. You were always so perfect for him, made specifically for him. To ruin him, to strengthen him. And he was made for you, to offer you pleasure beyond your wildest fantasies, have you seeing stars as you cum around his cock. He fit inside you just right, always hitting your cervix in the most delicious of ways and dragging against your walls, making your body feel alive in the most primal of ways.

Usually, Terzo would wait for you to adjust to his size; but like with his fingers there was no pain with the stretch - no need for adjustment. So instead, when he didn’t see the familiar look on your face that told him everything he needed to know, he just began to move. The first thrust was a tender motion, but it was so strong you felt like you were going to pass out. Without a moment’s hesitation, your hands collided with the ground as your fingers searched for something solid to hold onto. Normally, you would go after his back. Terzo yearned to see the red lines in a mirror that represented your pleasure and to feel the scratch of your nails against his skin. The second felt exactly as good. The rhythmic yet soft movements of Terzo soon picked up speed, leaving your brain turning to mush and your lungs gasping for air. The third thrust had you rolling your eyes back.

The feeling got more and more intense the more he thrust. Your screams, which initially served as a release for your bliss, were no longer effective. As much as it was possible, your back arched off the ground to accommodate him deeper inside of you. Now that his hips were moving more quickly, you were going crazy even more than before. You were completely oblivious to the way you appeared, how perfect you looked all red-faced and sweaty beneath him.

You were living artwork carved by Lucifer, made for pleasures beyond your wildest dreams. You belonged in his bed, lounging lazily as he spoiled you, worshipped you, gave you everything you could ever possibly want. Your body, all curvaceous and plump, jiggling beneath him with the force of his hips. Your thighs wobbling at the movements, your breasts, heavy and full, nipples begging to be played with and sucked into his mouth. His eyes enamoured by the way your tummy shook with the rest of your body, he could no longer resist. He bent down and placed kisses wherever he could: between the valley of your breasts, all over your chest, your sternum.

“Touch yourself for me, tesoro.” He told you, his voice shakey but gentle. “I want to watch you.”

He sat back on his knees and followed your hand as it moved downwards to your clit, thrusting hard when he heard your scream of sensitivity as your fingers made contact. Terzo knelt between your legs and let your hips buck to meet his movements. His gaze was fixed on your face, and the picture of you stretched out in front of him like his favourite meal made his cock twitch inside of you. He gripped your waist for leverage and watched your hand rubbing furiously at your clit, desperately trying to reach another orgasm. He bit his lip at the sight of you - you were so beautiful. You belonged to him; his perfect girl, laying there with her hand on her pussy and his cock slamming into her. It was almost too much to bear.

You had to cum first. You had to. There was no arguing. He needed you to cum again. “That’s it, tesoro. You look so beautiful right now. Taking me so well. Cazzo! You gotta cum, amore. I don’t know how much more I can take. You feel so good! Cum for me, tesoro!”

It didn’t take you long to do as he said, your second orgasm hitting you just as powerfully as the first. You screamed as your fingers moved faster against your clit in an attempt to keep up with both Terzo’s cock and your own orgasm, hips bucking to chase the pleasure. Though you were in the throes of your own orgasm, you fought with your own body to keep your eyes open and your brain focussed so you could watch Terzo reach his own. His hips thrusting erratically inside you, his brows furrowed, his eyes fixed on the way your cunt was creaming at the sensation, running down your body and gathering on the wood. His mind showed him images of the way your juices used to gather at the base of his cock when he would ravish you over and over again. It was that thought that had him orgasming, burying himself deep inside you as he came.

You were always enraptured by the face he made when he came; mouth hanging wide open, a dark look in his eyes that told you he was the only one who got to do this to you. That you belonged to him and no one else. His hands gripped onto both of your hips tightly, as though you’d try and run from him before he had the chance to finish.

When he finally did, and both of your bodies had finally stilled, you both remained where you were in silence. You allowed the quietness to bathe you both in an intimate moment where only your eyes connected as you calmed, savouring what you both knew would be your final moments together. He pulled out of you, making you both wince at the feeling. His borrowed time was coming to an end and you both knew it.

A lump formed in your throat again when you heard the sadness in his voice. “Would you dress yourself for me, tesoro?”

You nodded and slowly dressed again, this time the lethargy was your way of procrastinating. When you put your habit back on, he’d have to leave. When you were dressed and decent, he’d walk back into the pentagram and his soul would return to Hell where he was supposed to remain. “I don’t want you to go.” You said once you were dressed, tears spilling from your eyes and fingers playing with your habit.

He stood from his position on the floor and walked over to you, kissing your forehead. “Amore mio, it brings me solace to be with you, if only for this fleeting moment. I’ve watched over you, felt your every sorrow. But my time here is ephemeral, and Lucifer wants me back.”

“Fuck what Lucifer wants! I can’t bear to let you go again! I still feel your absence every day, and it’s like a piece of me is missing. Dead.”

Terzo was crying, now, too. Eyes glassy and glistening as he wrapped his spectral arms around you and let you sob into the air where his shoulder should have been. “You must find the strength within you to carry on, tesoro. I will always be with you, in the whispers of the wind, in the warmth of the sunlight, and in the quiet moments of your solitude. You are not alone, and you never will be.” He took your hands in his. “But you have a life to live, and you must do it without me now.”

“But it’s not the same without you here. I ache for your touch, your laughter, your presence beside me.”

“I know, tesoro. But remember the joy we shared, the laughter that echoed through our days. Hold onto those memories. They’re the threads that bind us, even across the chasm of existence. You carry a piece of me within your heart, and I, yours.”

You nodded, even though you were still wanting to clutch onto him and never let him go. “I love you, Terzo. I will never forget you.”

He sniffed. “You better not forget me, or I’ll send Hell’s legions to come remind you.”

“Why can’t I hit you?”

“Lucifer has favourites, clearly your Papa is one of them, hm?” He paused, taking in your appearance one last time. “You were the very breath I breathed, amore mio. Towards the end, you were the only thing that I got out of bed for, the only reason I carried on. Love is too weak a word to describe my feelings for you. You are my sanctity, my guiding star in the night sky, the very life in my lungs. Your laughter is a symphony that resonates with the very essence of my being, echoes with a melody that reverberates through the chambers of my heart, a melody that I wish to cherish for all eternity. My heart will forever be yours.

“But, one day, when your heart no longer belongs to me-”

“Never gonna happen.”

“I want it to. I cannot bear the thought of you alone, pining after me for the rest of your life. Tesoro, you are young. Your beautiful heart still has so much to give. Don’t squander your life waiting for a man who can never return. One day, when your heart no longer belongs to me, I hope that the echoes of our love linger as a bittersweet melody, a testament to the timeless moments we shared in the embrace of a love that once knew no bounds.” He kissed your lips one final time.

Through wracked sobs, you echoed him, forcing the words out of your mouth because you knew you’d regret it for the rest of your life. “Goodbye, Terzo.” You wanted more to come out of your mouth. You wanted to tell him just what he meant to you, how his love made you a better person, how he was everything to you, too. But the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you get the words out. “I love you - I always will. I-”

“I know. Goodbye, ___.”

Terzo backed up into the pentagram, his eyes never leaving you. It could have killed him a second time to watch your heart break once more, shattering into a million pieces on the ground as you finally got to say the goodbye you both deserved the first time. Through blurred vision, you watched him blow you a kiss, before disappearing from this realm altogether, only to exist in your memory. From now on, his voice would only come through a speaker from the videos fans took at concerts, his face would forever remain unchanged and unaltered in the pictures on your dresser.

You fell to the floor, your heartbreak doing as much as it could to commit him to your memory before it faded and time began to heal your wounds. One step at a time. One day at a time. One day, you’d heal from this, but for now, all you could do was let yourself feel.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

246 notes · View notes