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snakes-writing-corner · 5 months

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Mr. Puzzles Fluff Alphabet

Requested by… Me!

Coming out of hibernation ‘cause there is not enough Mr. Puzzles x Reader content out there so I am contributing to the pile because the hyperfixation I have on this man has me in a fucking death-grip.

It is 2 in the morning when I’m posting this so yippie brain-rot!!!

Anyways alphabet under the cut :D

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Very. I mean you are kind of the only person who’s ever bothered to get close to him!

He was extremely clingy when the two of you were just friends, but now that you’re his partner? That’s increased tenfold.

He’s very unpredictable so he’s pretty much a wildcard when it comes to ways he’ll show affection.

Sometimes he’ll gently pull you along by grabbing your wrist, sometimes he’ll nuzzle into your hair or neck, maybe he’ll cup your face like you’re a glass sculpture that might shatter, and sometimes he’ll just pick you up and twirl you around. Honestly? This lovable director will show you any kind of physical affection under the sun.

I do think he particularly would like to hold your hand though. He likes the warmth of your hand in his, and how it’s so small compared to his. It’s like your hand was just made for him to hold!

Overall, any physical affection is fine by him as long as he gets to touch or hold you!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

I fear having this man as a best friend because that means chaos.

Yes being in a romantic relationship with him would be chaos, but a friendship I feel would be more chaotic somehow???

Will break your door down to get an opinion on a new show he’s been working on, and will absolutely pester you until you comply.

Would probably get you to star in said show and then poke fun at you the entire time. Lovingly of course mind you!

Lots of talk sessions where the two of you just talk shit about other people because this man lives for drama, like wants the tea on everyone.

Would break into your house at 2 in the morning to steal food like a fucking rat (I say this in a loving way).

Anyways being besties with him means say goodbye to your doors because he’s kicking them all down to get your attention.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling is definitely a must!!! Like he would love to cuddle!!!

This man has no preference to cuddling he just wants to hold you close to him! Definitely big spoon no questions asked, but he also loves having you lay on his chest.

I think his favorite way to cuddle though would be on his side with you snuggled into his chest. You would probably look very small compared to him like his body would basically envelop yours, but hey he’d be very warm at least! Mr. Puzzles would probably just lazily comb through your hair with the goofiest smile on his face, whispering little words of affirmation under his breath as he did so.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they around the house?)

Oh definitely! But, after he becomes all rich and famous! He wants the best life for you after all!

Definitely a housewife though when he’s not busy working on his shows, like this man is a workaholic. I genuinely think he enjoys cleaning and repetitive tasks in general, helps him think.

When working on his shows or stressed? Yeah no the living space can easily become a train-wreck as he gets increasingly more frustrated over whatever he’s working on.

You could probably leave the studio on any given day, and either come back to it spotless or a wreck. There’s like a 50/50 shot whenever you leave.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Nuh-uh, not happening, you are literally stuck with him now, and he is NEVER LETTING YOU GO. :)

Yeah that’s definitely not concerning! Good luck my guy because Mr. Puzzles has some attachment issues, and will not leave you no matter what you do!

But hey! You probably won’t get to leave him either! At least he won’t let you without a fight! (Get this man some therapy or something)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Very big on commitment honestly part of him wants all of your attention to himself, but he loves you enough to not go that far.

I think he’d be kinda iffy on marriage. On one hand he could throw this big event for the two of you, letting everyone know you’re his.

On the other, he’s fine not getting married at all! As far as he’s concerned as long as you’re completely committed to him romantically there’s not really a reason to get married?

Honestly whether he gets married to you or not would depend on your preference.

Would probably still get you an engagement ring of some kind no matter what your answer is, just so others’ know you’re committed to someone.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Oh my god this man? Gentle as a feather physically. Emotionally? He tries to be as gentle as he can, but that temper gets the better of him sometimes.

He holds you like you are glass about to shatter, like he’s holding the most precious thing in the world.

Cups your face in his gloved hand and just admires you like the most beautiful art piece ever created. Might even lightly bump his screen against your head wondering how he got so lucky.

Most of the time he’s a bit aloof regarding your emotions he likes to tease you after all!

But in serious moments his tone will get noticeably softer as he listens, and tries to help you with whatever you are dealing with in anyway he can.

Now granted, Puzzles gets frustrated easily, and might lash out at you occasionally or straight up manipulate you, but he tries to make up for it.

Just be patient with him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?)

Yes.

Hugs are a constant thing with this man he loves to hug and hold you. Though he will probably pick you up to hold you.

Most of the time he’ll come up from behind, pick you up, spin you around a bit, saying something like “There’s my little angel!”, and then hug you!

Definitely puts his screen to your head and makes a loud “mwah!” sound.

He’s a dork when it comes to hugging he wants to make you smile, that and he just likes having you close to him.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

After you get together?

All. The. Time.

Not in a bad way of course he wants you to know he absolutely adores you! Words of affirmation are part of his love language after all!

Says stuff like “I love you my precious starlight.” or “Gosh you’re just so cute! I truly do love you when you give me that look my dear!”

He is serious every time he says it though, but will not hesitate to fluster you with that phrase.

Can imagine him saying “I love you.” in a low husky voice to make you weak in the knees.

He likes to see you get all red in the face and become a stuttering mess. He’s a tease like that. :)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Puzzles has attachment issues this man gets extremely jealous very quickly.

If he thinks anyone is getting even a little touchy with you? He’s walking over, putting his arms around you, and talking to the offender with fake enthusiasm and venom in his voice.

The person doesn’t get the hint? Lightly veiled threats start coming out.

Would resort to violence as a last resort.

If it’s a more light version of jealousy he’ll probably dramatically pout in the corner with his arms crossed until you come over and give him attention.

He’s very dramatic with jealously like a dog not getting attention when it wants it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Uhhhh I mean he has a TV for a head he can’t exactly kiss you per se.

But Puzzles tries to make it work! Most commonly he’ll gently tap his screen to your head or hands with a little electric shock to give the illusion of an actual kiss.

Is not much for you kissing his screen though since he’ll have to clean it afterwards…

But you want to get this man to melt into you? He loves being kissed on the neck, or on the bottom of his TV, might as well send sparks through his entire body. Would definitely love neck bites as well.

Honestly would not care where you kiss him he’s just happy getting your affection.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think he’d be pretty good around children at least outwardly.

Probably would be trying to entertain them with cartoons or little puppet shows.

Do not think he’d actively put himself in a situation to be around children though. I don’t think he likes them very much.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Puzzles would get up without waking you, get dressed, get some coffee, and then would make the two of you breakfast.

You typically tend to wake up before he’s finished, but if you aren’t then he’ll gladly give you breakfast in bed!

Would make fun of you for being a sleepyhead though.

Mornings with Puzzles would start off quiet, but get progressively louder as you both wake up a bit.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I feel like nights go one of two ways.

Either A. Chaotic as hell or B. Actually nice

A chaotic as hell night includes Mr. Puzzles having some sort of mental break which results in him overworking himself and refusing to go to sleep and/or him frantically at a board with a bunch of papers on it trying to come up with ideas.

While this rarely happens it can if his shows aren’t doing as well as he would like or if you’re gone for long periods of time. The best thing to do here is gently talk to him and get him away from his area of work to help him calm down. A nice cup of hot tea or hot cocoa would help as well!

A nice night is more common though since Puzzles does think sleep is important. Probably ends with the two of you winding down by either cuddling in bed or watching TV (an actual TV though not his head he likes being able to hold you) while you two have blankets and/or hot tea to sip on.

Alternatively you two will cuddle in bed and just talk about whatever comes to mind until you two fall asleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s pretty open about his past but not so much about what he doesn’t want you to see.

He shares stories from when he was a kid a lot, mainly about his mom, (I get a huge mama’s boy vibe from him) or his struggles making friends and connections until you showed up.

Also talks about his frustrations about getting into directing shows and how no corporate big shot would give him a chance so that’s how he made his own company! Also loves talking about ideas for new shows or really anything that comes to mind this man has no filter and just says what pops in his head.

He does not talk about things he doesn’t want you to know. Mainly that he smokes but he’s also definitely done some fucked up stuff in the past to get where he is today so he keeps that under wraps.

Wouldn’t want his darling angel to worry about those little hiccups~

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

We are literally talking about the person who sang about how ‘patience is a virtue uttered by fools’ this man has close to none.

He gets very frustrated and angry when things don’t go how he planned them to. He also can get frustrated if you don’t tell him things.

While he never tries to direct his anger at you he tends to lash out when frustrated and says things he doesn’t mean. However, he would probably apologize in the end if he really hurt you with his words.

Would never think of getting physically violent with you though he would much rather cut off his own head again than do that.

It would be very odd hot to see the man who holds you so gently be able to so easily make a sizable dent in a metal object.

Definitely has punched many holes in the walls and covered it up with something.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

My guy.

My buddy.

This man will remember every little thing you have told him about anything you like. He has a little notebook dedicated to writing little details about you so he doesn’t forget.

Knows just about everything you’ve either off-handedly mentioned about yourself or straight up told him.

Has various things written down like your favorite color, food, drink, cartoon, etc. Like literally anything you can think of that you could say about yourself he probably has written down.

Also has a page just describing how much he loves your looks down to the littlest detail but that’s not as important.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you two officially became partners.

He was so anxious to ask on the inside but kept the outwardly performance up as he was desperately trying to figure out how to go about it.

He broke one night and frantically made a board full of ideas for what he could do, but none of them were good enough! You deserved so much more than-than this!

You just so happened to walk into this scenario but Mr. Puzzles didn’t notice you as he was too focused on his board. You heard him muttering to himself about how “this had to be perfect” and “no, no that wouldn’t-”.

You eventually got concerned and walked up to him, accidentally scaring the living daylights out of him by the way, and as he tried to stutter something out you realized just what the board was about.

You then looked at him as he was still trying to come up with an excuse and just looked at him with wide eyes as you just blurted “And here I was scrambling to figure out a way to ask you out myself.”.

Puzzles just stared at you wide eyes and shouted “Wait really!?”

Anyways that night ended with you two just watching a movie on the couch and you’ve been together ever since.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

Oh very protective.

Like you get scary tall guard dog partner privileges.

Most of the time if you’re with Puzzles no one would really dare to try anything because of how tall your TV man is, but on the off chance some asshole wants to try his luck?

Well Puzzles most definitely has a kill count.

In actuality he’d probably make threats towards the person, never getting outwardly aggressive as he doesn’t like to be the one fighting, but if the aggressor tries to touch you?

All bets are fucking off.

Despite what his personality may suggest to you if it comes down to it this man can pack a punch if need be. He is deceptively strong for how he looks and could easily beat a man to death if he wanted to.

While the fight would not end with the aggressor’s death as Puzzles does not want to kill someone in front of you, there is a good chance that person might end up mysteriously dead with no evidence tracing the murder back to him later down the line.

This man is slightly unhinged when it comes to keeping you safe.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

This is Mr. Puzzles we’re talking about he’s going all out!

Would definitely have a fancy dinner or something equally extravagant. I can see him liking to slow dance with you in a ballroom if given the chance.

If you prefer more casual dates then hey he’s up for that too! He’s paying though no ifs, ands, or buts about it! He loves movie dates and stargazing as date ideas.

Anniversaries are an all out occasion he’s standing his ground on that one because it’s special date and he wants the entire day to be special to the both of you.

Tries to get you gifts he knows you’ll like instead of fancy things though.

Okay maybe one or two pretty rings and such but mainly things you’d actually enjoy or give that big smile at receiving. I think gift giving is one of his love languages after all so expect to have lots of little trinkets.

He tries his best to make you smile everyday so he tries a lot for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has some… unfavorable aspects of himself he doesn’t want you knowing the true extent of.

He does not want you to know he smokes as he thinks it’s an undesirable habit and always deflects any questions about why he might smell like smoke or any cigarettes you might find.

His temper also gets the best of him at times leading to him lashing out and making dumb decisions that he tends to regret if he thinks about it too much. Though he has wrangled it in around you it can be explosive and violent when you aren’t around to witness the full extent of it.

He is also very obsessive with you and he knows it. It’s definitely toxic obsession as well because at his worst moments mentally he has debated keeping you to himself and not letting you leave. He’s also considered sabotaging all of your relationships so you only rely on him and no one else.

A dark part of him wants to keep you all to himself so no one can take you away from him ever.

Thankfully, he respects and loves you too much to act on those thoughts but god rest the poor soul that does anything bad to you because odds are…

Their life is on a very short timer.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Oh my god yes.

Yes he so is.

He wants to look his best around you 24/7 all day every day and somehow does not even have to try for it.

He needs to always look presentable because a good director should always look ready all the time!

Is dramatic as fuck if his shirt gets wrinkled or something like damsel with their hand on their head going “my poor husband” dramatic.

He’s very silly like that and you love him for it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes.

You are the only person who ever really tried to get to know him, who puts up with his silly shenanigans, and who he fell in love with.

Truthfully without you? He’d completely lose it mentally because you are his rock. The one person he knows can pull him back from the darkest corners of his mind.

Not that you’d ever know this but Mr. Puzzles does. He knows that now that he has you he would not be able to live without you and continue to pretend to be even remotely sane.

X = Xtra (Random HC)

Plays his dreams or soft static on his screen when he’s in a deep sleep.

Claps his hands when excited and fidgets with his suspenders a lot.

Also makes tons of motions with his hands while he talks.

Y = You (How would they talk about you?)

This goes one of two ways.

Either he’s all giddy and cheerful like a schoolgirl with a massive crush or sounds very concerning as he talks about you like a follower would a god.

Pick your poison because both are accurate it just depends on how he’s feeling that day.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Will. Not. Let. Go.

Like if you wake up before him you are not getting up because he has the grip of a koala and probably has his arms and legs wrapped all around you.

But sometimes if you wake up before him he ends up in the funniest positions like sprawled out in ways that should break his bones. It can be very funny and disturbing at the same time.

#my writing #mr. puzzles #smg4 #smg4 mr puzzles #mr puzzles #mr puzzles x reader #mr puzzles hcs #mr puzzles smg4 #please help #the brainrot #its killing me #anyways have fun you mr puzzles simps #it’s me #i’m mr puzzles simps :(

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iloverook · 2 months

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Some Obey me hcs!

its 1 AM and I'm bored so i decided to do some obey me hcs

Lucifer:

all of your dates would be at quiet places, so you guys can have a bit of peace without his brothers.

LOVES when you bring food for him, like, his working at his office and then you suddenly appears with a plate full of food for him telling him to take a break (he loves to know that you care that much about him, he won't admit it, but you just know)

He loves when you guys cuddle, hug or kiss. His brothers aren't the only ones who needs your attention, the poor guy need some attention too!

definitely has soft spot for you and Mammon. So if you team up with him, you both can ask Lucifer anything and he might give you.

Mammon:

He would definitely steal lucifer's credit card to buy gifts for you, no one can take that out of my mind.

I don't think he would be a big fan of PDA, but it just depends on his mood.

He would be clingy somedays, like, REALLY clingy. You're going to the bathroom? that's okay, he's waiting for you at the door.

Would let you try makeup on him. got a new eyeshadow? he's going to be your lab rat. He would also let you play with his hair. Just don't do anything that can damage it, his hair is a important part of his modeling gigs!

Leviathan:

Loves when you play with him or just show any interest in anything he likes.

Would buy another fish to put on his tank, so henry 2.0 can have a partner too (he would let you name it)

Would definitely buy matching cosplays for you two.

Would teach you how to program your own game (if you're interested in that ofc)

He would need you to say you love him 24/7

Satan:

would buy you matching cat Keychains (he would have it with 24/7)

He loves when you guys have dates at librarys

would name a stray cat after you (unfortunately he can't take the cat home, but he makes sure to send you some pictures of it)

he would buy you any book you want (or lend it to you if you don't want one)

Asmo:

He would compliment you 24/7. What can he do? You're the pretties person he ever seen! (before him ofc)

would make you a skincare routine, and would make sure you follow every single step

would try new makeups on you

50% of his phone gallery are pictures of you guys together

would post a picture of you guys every time you guys go out

Beel:

I can't think of many hcs for him 😞

Would ask you to work out with him

would give you princess treatment

would carry you if you're tired of walking

Belphie:

would try to stay awake so he can go on dates with you

i don't think he smells good, he would be too tired to take baths (you have to force him to)

would use one of your shirts as a pillowcase

he let you play with his hair, it helps him sleep

have a plushie that reminds him of you (he hugs it to sleep when you're not around)

thats what i could think for them! Please forgive me for any spelling mistake, english is not my first language! And thank you so much for reading, it helps me a lot! <3

(i know more about obey me, so any obey me related thing will be bigger than the twisted wonderland ones)

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hayleythesugarbowl · 3 months

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hey I love ur fics, can you maybe do like a Trevor evarts headcanon? Or a Spencer Agnew fic that takes place at the Shourtney reception.

Marry Me || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: after seeing shayne and courtney tie the knot, you are worried that you’ll never find a love like theirs. that’s when you start to see your best friend spencer in a new light

word count: 2.4k

warnings: none

a/n: ok first of all i know everyone and their pet rat uses this pic but i couldn’t help it this photo of spencer does things to me 🫠 second of all, i loved both of these ideas and so i had to write them both!! trevor hcs to come stay tuned 🤭 i took some inspiration from that one friends ep in london for this iykyk so thanks mondler. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Spencer, if you were a guy you’d marry me, right?”

“First of all, ouch.” Spencer clutched his chest. “And second of all, what?”

“I mean, is there something un-marryable about me?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

You didn’t know what was bringing on all of the sudden thoughts about being married—or not being married.

Well, that was a lie. You did know.

You had just watched two of your best friends get married earlier that day. Shayne and Courtney were perfect for each other. You were so happy for them and you loved being happy for them.

But now, as you leaned against the bar at the reception, you couldn’t help but worry that this would never happen for you.

You’d had lousy, short-lived relationship after lousy, short-lived relationship. Up until you met your last partner, who you’d dated for a year and a half.

It was the first long-term relationship you’d had—with someone you thought you could end up marrying.

That didn’t turn out exactly how you thought it would. You’d broken up last month.

You’d always thought the fact that you’d end up with someone for life was a given. It just happened. It had to. But now you weren’t so sure.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer looked you up and down, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts. “People settle all the time.”

You whacked Spencer on the arm. “Very funny. But when I end up as an old cat lady living in your basement, it won’t be.”

You and Spencer had been best friends for as long as you could remember. It was him who’d gotten you your job at Smosh and introduced you to all the people you were surrounded by now.

“There are worse fates. Cats are dope and I’ll always run the ac.”

“Spencer,” you whined. “I’m serious.”

“Yes, (Y/n), I’m sure someone out there would love to marry you,” he said. “Now can I go now? I heard there’s a La Croix tower inside.”

“I wish,” Shayne said, walking by and overhearing. “Courtney ixnayed that idea a while ago.”

“Not until I get my wenching hour!” Courtney stated, catching up and stopping to kiss her husband.

“Congratulations guys,” you called as they kept walking, mingling with more people.

You wanted that. Not the La Croixs or whatever Court was talking about, but a relationship like theirs.

A best friend who knows everything about you and who would do anything for you. Someone who you spend all of your time with, not knowing how you feel about them until you do. And then getting to know them as a partner and becoming intimate with them in a new way.

Getting to love them in a new way.

You groaned, turning to Spencer. “Do me a favor? If we’re both single when we’re 40, let’s get married.”

“Woah, what makes you think I’m going to be single when I’m 40?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah ok fine, I’ll marry you,” he agreed.

You sighed and Spencer took a step closer to you, putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Hey, you’re going to find someone,” he said sincerely, “You’re kind and funny and beautiful. Lots of people would be lucky to have you.”

“You’re just saying that,” you waved him off.

“I’m dead serious,” he said, turning so he could look you in the eyes. “You’re one of the best people I know. Any guy who doesn’t love you immediately is on something.”

You looked into his eyes as he comforted you. He looked like he really believed all of the things he was saying to you.

This suddenly felt…different. As Spencer pulled you in for a hug, wrapping his arms around you, you couldn’t help but…

No. This was Spencer. He was being a good friend, this was normal. Why now should you be…

But you couldn’t keep the thought from creeping into the back of your mind. Spencer…

You may have had a tiny crush on Spencer when you had first met. Who wouldn’t, you had thought. He was funny and cool and had killer tattoos. But once you’d become friends, all of that attraction had turned into friendship and you hadn’t thought of him that way since.

Until now…

You pulled away from Spencer’s embrace slowly.

“You’re going to get married, ok? You’re a catch. And if not, then I’ll be happy to marry you at 40. I’ll start picking out my tux tomorrow.”

You smiled, thinking how sweet Spencer was being.

“Now, let’s talk about how many cats you’re going to have in my basement, because I max out at eleven.”

And just like that the spell was broken. This was Spencer, your best friend. Who was always teasing you and making you laugh and definitely wasn’t someone you were romantically interested in.

Right?

“And if I had my heart set on twelve?” You asked him, carrying on the joke.

“I guess I could make an exception,” he shrugged. “But only because I love you.”

Your heart leapt and you tried to tell it to shut up. You and Spencer had told each other you loved each other several times. So why now did it just encourage your thoughts.

Just then someone a few yards away called Spencer over.

“Hey, I’ll catch up with you later,” he told you. “Try not to marry a stranger while I’m gone.”

And then he left you to your musings. You didn’t like Spencer, not like that.

You blamed it on the wanting a relationship like Shayne and Courtney. And you had just been worried that you were never going to find anyone, and Spencer had comforted you.

Maybe you just felt grateful, that was all. Grateful that your best friend was there to cheer you up.

But you couldn’t picture Spencer calling you beautiful and then wrapping his arms around you without feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

You imagined actually marrying Spencer. You had said it mostly as a joke and partly so you could have a backup in case you really were alone forever.

But now, the more you thought about it, the thought of being married to Spencer, sharing everything and being together for the rest of your lives, didn’t seem like just a backup.

Oh god. Maybe you did have feelings for Spencer. Maybe you always had. You tried to think back on your relationship, looking for signs.

You’d always felt close to him. Closer than you were with anybody else. Maybe it had always been him and you just hadn’t seen it in a while.

You began walking, desperate to be away from your thoughts and needing the distraction of moving.

You looked up just in time to realize you’d almost run into Amanda and Angela.

“Hey guys,” you said, “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Been there!” Angela leaned in for a high five and you looked down at the drink in your hand.

“Oh no, it’s not—I’m not drunk,” you said. “I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Ooh, wedding tea!” Amanda exclaimed. “Spill.”

You sighed. What was the harm in telling them. “You ever suddenly realize you might have feelings for your best friend even though you’ve never thought of them like that before?”

“Isn’t that why we’re all here?” Angela gestured around her at the wedding festivities.

“That is pretty Shourtney coded,” Amanda nodded her head, before whispering to Angela, “Did I use that right?”

Angela patted her on the shoulder.

“I’m not talking about Shayne and Courtney,” you said.

“Then never,” Angela said

“All the time,” Amanda said at the same time, thinking. “Wait who do you—Spencer?”

Angela hit her in the arm.

“I mean, Spencer?” She said much quieter that time.

“Maybe,” you whispered, not being able to stop the smile spreading on your face.

“Since when?” Angela asked you.

“Like ten minutes ago?” You answered. “But in a way maybe I’ve always known? I was telling him all this stuff about how I was worried I’d never get married and that I was going to end up alone and he was so sweet and reassuring and now I can’t get the thought of him out of my head and…” you groaned, trailing off. “And now I don’t know.”

Angela and Amanda shared a look. “We have to,” Angela said.

“Angela, we promised,” Amanda chided, shaking her head.

“But c’mon,” she gestured at you. “We have to say something.”

“Ok guys? I can still hear you,” you told them.

“Right, sorry.” Angela said. “It’s just—”

“Spencerhasacrushonyou,” Amanda spit out.

“Dude!” Angela threw her arms up.

“Sorry,” Amanda bit her lip.

“You knew I wanted to say it,” Angela mumbled. “But I get it, not the time.”

“Back up,” you got out, “What?”

“Spencer really likes you, (Y/n),” Angela said. “We’ve known for a while now. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone at the office except you has known for a while now.”

What? You couldn’t believe your ears. What they were saying didn’t make sense. There was no way Spencer, your best friend, had had feelings for you this whole time.

“No,” you said, taking a step back. “You guys are crazy.”

“Yes,” Angela agreed. “But not about this.”

“Ask him yourself,” Amanda said.

“Yeah, and you know, just don’t mention that we were the ones who told you,” Angela shrugged.

Were you really going to do this?

You took a deep breath. What would you even say?

Hey, a little birdie told me that you have a crush on me and I, as of very recently, have feelings for you, let’s see where this goes?

“Hey, Angela,” Amanda suddenly stated loudly. “Look, it’s that guy!”

She pointed in the opposite direction and Angela’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I love that guy!”

You turned around, seeing that Spencer was approaching you.

“Thanks guys,” you muttered sarcastically.

They both hurried away and Angela winked at you as they passed. You rolled your eyes.

Spencer came up behind you. “Damn, you don’t take a shower for like one day...”

You laughed. “No, they just had to run. Saw some guy, apparently.”

“(Y/n), what’s up?” Spencer looked at you. “You kinda look like you had some of that punch inside.”

He made a face.

“You have feelings for me?” you blurted out.

Arguably, you could’ve handled that better. You didn’t even mean to say it, but upon seeing Spencer it had just kinda slipped out.

Spencer’s expression turned into one of shock. He fumbled for words. “I, um—I don’t—who told you?”

Is what he finally settled on.

“Because if it was Angela, I swear—”

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him. “What matters is, is it true?”

Spencer sighed. “Wow, um, I definitely didn’t mean for you to find out this way—or at all, for that matter—but yeah. The eleven cats are out of the bag. I guess I have feelings for you.”

“For how long?” You mumbled, still in disbelief even though he had just confirmed it. This night was a roller coaster of emotions.

“For as long as I can remember,” Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “Since the moment I met you.”

You let out a breath. You didn’t know what to say.

“But its no big deal!” He hurried out. “I’ve gone years of being your friend without you ever knowing. I’ve gotten kind of good at it. Since you obviously don’t feel the same way, can we just pretend this never happened and go back to the way things were?”

“No,” you said slowly. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, well, I guess this does sort of ruin our friendship, huh?” He deflated, looking at the ground. “I completely understand if you don’t feel comfortable with—”

And that was all he got out before you kissed him.

He looked surprised for almost two seconds before he wrapped his arms around you slowly and kissed you back.

He was hesitant at first, as if he wanted to make sure that you wanted this as much as he did.

But as you let your lips give him encouragement, he kissed you harder, more intensely.

He kissed you like he had been waiting years for this moment.

“Wow,” you breathed, pulling away gently. “That was…different.”

“Yeah we don’t usually do that,” Spencer agreed and he sounded as breathless as you felt.

You both started laughing.

“But I’d like to keep doing it,” Spencer added.

“Yeah,” you smiled at him, “yeah, me too. I guess I owe it to you, you have been obsessed with me for years.”

“Obsess is a strong word!” Spencer held up his hands in defense. “I prefer unrequited pining.”

“It might not have been entirely unrequited the whole time,” you confessed, grabbing Spencer’s hand.

You heard someone—or, multiple someones—cheering and you turned to find Shayne and Courtney looking in your direction.

“Finally!” Courtney shouted, laughing with the small crowd that had gathered around them, witnessing what just happened

“Time for all of us to cash in on our office bets,” Shayne said. “Who had 2024?”

“I sure didn’t,” Amanda said, a few feet away from the bride and groom. “That was not on my 2024 bingo card.”

She turned to Angela, who didn’t even look her way as she said, “Yeah, you used it right.

You laughed, looking at Spencer before turning back to everyone else. “Sorry, this is your wedding and here we are making out!”

“The more the merrier!” Courtney called.

“Wait a second, you’re not about to propose though are you?” Spencer asked. “Because we still have a while before 40.”

You giggled. “You totally just spoiled it! I didn’t even get to pull out my ‘marry me’ sign.”

But he was right. You had time. To see where this went, to explore this new relationship. You couldn’t wait.

You’d known Spencer as a friend, your best friend. And now you’d get to know him as a partner.

“Bold of you to assume I would say yes,” Spencer answered.

“You would’ve said yes,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

“Not if I beat you to it.”

Spencer got down on one knee, grabbing your hand.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n), will you make me the happiest man at this reception—barring Shayne—and go out with me?”

You laughed at the fake proposal. “Yes, Spencer. I will go out with you.”

He stood up, kissing you softly.

“I’ll be expecting another one of those in 10 years,” you said.

“I’ll be counting down the days,” Spencer smiled.

Amanda walked passed you then, shaking her head as she thought aloud.

“First kisses,” she muttered. “Never gets old.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ ahh i hope you guys enjoyed this!! like i said, trevor hcs coming soon. watch out for another spencer fic in the works!! 🎀🍒

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh #smosh imagine #smosh fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader

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mhahaikyuus · 5 months

Text

Hair

wc:; 1.4k

tags: black reader x katsuki, newly established relationship (still trying to keep up the illusion for your partner), black reader doing her hair, emotional reader, Katsuki being the rational calm boyfriend, fluffy, cute ending.

a/n: i skimmed barely proofread sorry for any mistakes, hope you guys enjoy. reblogs appreciated.

“I can come over tonight?” Katsuki asked on speaker of your phone.

You two spent everyday together since he had confessed to you by shoving flowers into your hands and running off before you had a chance to respond in slight shock.

“Uh I’m busy tonight sorry.” You said watching yourself in the mirror studying your scalp distracted.

“Okay what about tomorrow?” Katsuki grunted unhappy he would spend time away from you.

“Tomorrow I'm busy too, i can’t hang out this weekend.” You said eyeing the thin black plastic bag filled with beauty supplies sitting on your vanity.

He frowned, you always told him about upcoming plans you had. At lunch always rambling about whatever you wanted and him listening with small grunts and nods. You didn’t mention anything before about plans.

“What are you doing?” He asked. Not wanting to pry so early into a relationship and scare you off. He had plans to make you his permanently but he was nosey.

“My hair,” You answered honestly.

“What do you mean your hair? It takes that long?” He asked confused.

“Yeah, it does. I have a lot of hair and it takes a lot of hours sometimes a couple of days.” You admitted with a sigh already dreading the process.

Katsuki sat there on the other side of the phone with a small sigh of relief. You weren’t blowing him off with anyone else, just your hair. He had no idea about black hair but he knew he cared about you and that meant this was important.

“Do you need help?” He offered making you silent in surprise widely blinking at the phone.

The man that would tell his partner in the field to fuck off when he asked. Was readily offering you his help.

You let out a small laugh, “I do but I don’t think you know what that entails. It’s a really long process and it’s tiring. Im okay though thanks for asking.”

He just wanted to see you. After spending every day together for a month, he doesn’t know if he could go 3 days.

“Alright the offer still stands if you change your mind. Don’t tire yourself out.” He sighed and you both said your goodbyes.

You fiddled with the ends of your hair with a huff.

“Let’s get this over with.”

You wanted to ram your head into a wall. Staring at half your head being braided, 10 hours down and probably another 7 to go.

Your back hurt, your arms hurt, your head hurt it was not ideal. Not eating all day and getting irritated at everything you were in a mood.

Throwing the rat tail comb from your hands on the floor you flopped onto your bed in tears needing a break.

Your phone began buzzing, face still in the mattress you reached around til you found it and pressed answer button.

“Hello,” You answered muffled

“Hey how’s it going?” Bakugo asked

You sniffled pulling your head up tears running.

“It’s fine.”

Bakugo heard how upset you were causing his forehead to crease, “What’s wrong baby?” in a softer voice.

“It’s nothing it’s just my hair and i’m tired and cranky and i haven’t eaten all day. I’ve only done maybe half of my head and i want to stop.” You said through tears.

“Hey, hey please stop crying it’ll be okay.” Katsuki said trying to soothe you through the phone but it wasn’t working. Noticing a twinge in his chest at the sound of your soft sniffles.

You left out small huffs trying to control your breathing, “Yeah…sorry I should go you don’t want to hear me crying. Sorry to bother.” You realized you were probably scaring away the one guy you did like with your hysterics.

“No I didn-“

“I have to go thanks for calling.”

Katsuki stared at the phone feeling his stomach sink.

You cried until your eyes were puffy and reluctantly went back to braiding your hair. You were so impatient and tender headed but you would not spend 200+ dollars on box braids.

After about an hour you heard a knock on your door. You opened it to your boyfriend with a bag of takeout and one from the pharmacy.

You yelped in surprise slamming the door just as fast as you opened it.

Katsuki was very confused and kind of hurt at your reaction.

“Y/n! What the fuck come on.” He yelled from the other side of the door.

Your face held such embarrassment, hoping this was a figment of your imagination.

Your boyfriend was NOT here when you looked like a hot mess.

Your non-black boyfriend at that.

This is a nightmare.

“What are you doing here!” You yelled back through the door.

“Baby you were crying and I haven’t seen you in almost 2 days!"

You groaned, “You can’t see me like this! you have to go home.”

He grunted in annoyance, “You better open up. Im not leaving when you were crying.”

You were silent waiting for him to go home and he wasn’t budging. With a sigh you opened the door peaking out at him.

“Are ya gonna let me in?” He asked with raised blond eyebrows and pretty crimson eyes.

You opened the door and stepped aside.

“What’s wrong why are you slamming doors and crying?” He asked looking down at you as he entered your apartment.

You slowly closed the door behind you and leaned back against it.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” You admitted thankful that you didn't blush noticeably.

“Baby like what.” He sighed dropping the bags on your coffee table and bringing you in close.

Your head fell into his muscular chest, smelling his cologne.

“My hair.” You mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled back and used one hand to push back your hair to see your face. Your hair is in sections and a half-braided mess.

“I like you and your hair. So will you calm down please?”

“Really?” You asked with teary eyes looking up at him.

“Yes, I do.” He reassured his hands gently holding you, his main goal to calm you down from this tired anxiety driven mood.

“Okay.” You mumbled head falling back into his chest.

He rubbed your back, “What’s going on?” asking again.

“I stayed up all night and im not even halfway done. I have a headache.” You mumbled in tears.

Katsuki led you to the couch and made you take a seat.

“Take a break. You look hangry and I brought food.” He said propping you in his lap and handing you takeout.

You finished your food and leaned your head in his neck. Your headache stopping. He was right as usual, you were hangry.

“I’m sorry for slamming the door in your face that was mean.” You said wrapping him in a side hug.

His hand rubbed the side of your thigh with a light kiss on your nose.

“It’s okay, ya didnt break my nose with the door slam.” Katsuki said making you laugh.

“Can I?” He asked gesturing to your head and you nodded.

Katsuki’s thick fingers touching your blow dried hair.

“It’s soft.” He said with mild surprise, “Like really soft.”

You laughed, “Yeah I do have soft hair, but so do you.” Reaching up and lightly tugging on his spiky blonde hair. His hair was getting longer in the back. It may be because he loves your hands all over him and especially his head, giving you more hair to yank. Just a theory of course you would never say to him.

He grunted, “You feel better?”

“Yes…” You nodded as he smiled knowing what he was gonna say

“Crying over the being hungry?” He teased showing his canines with his smile and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Are you discriminating against a black woman?” You squinted but Bakugo had heard that before.

“I just came over here with food to stop your crying and got a door slammed in my face.” He said with narrowed eyes matching your own.

“Uh fine.” You sighed, “Can you not be a good boyfriend so I can call you a bigot.” Your hand trailing up his stomach under his shirt, wanting skin to skin contact.

He pinched the inside of your thigh making you yelp in pain in response. His head deeply buried into your neck just enjoying your touch

“Ow…”You whined rubbing the bruised spot.

#mha #mha imagines #mha scenarios #my hero academia #mha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugo x black reader

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 11 months

Note

*breaks through the window*

Hi I saw asks are open (if I’m late that’s ok feel free to ignore this). I just thought doing an escape room with heartslabyul would be fun. Headcanons or drabble you can choose whichever you’d rather do :).

In an Escape Room with Heartslabyul!

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, some blurring of platonic and romantic stuff, headcanon format

Word Count; 2 K (... I may have gotten carried away; oops)

Author's Note; Thank you for requesting, Haru! I hope you like the direction I took this in!

Do not feed my works into AI. If you want to read more of my writing please see my masterlist!

Riddle Rosehearts

He heard Cater going on about this ‘totes cool’ (his words, not Riddle’s) escape room that Sam was hosting, and it piqued his interest… more so that you seemed interested.

“If you would like… we can go together?” He offered quietly, looking up from the notes he was rewriting for class, measuring your reaction.

You leaned forward into his personal space, “Wait, really?! I didn’t think you’d want to go.” Plus wasn’t there an Unbirthday party to plan for?

Riddle swallowed the lump in his throat, but took in a breath, offering you a small smile. “Never know if you don’t try… plus you could use my help–”

You gently kicked him under the table, “Rude, but not unwarranted, Riddle. Who knows, there could be a word search involved.” You offered him a playful wink, enjoying that he was slowly turning red.

“Oh hush you,” he huffed. But he was looking forward to the escape room… and possibly being able to showboat his skills a bit if he were being honest with himself.

In the escape room

He is analyzing everything. He’s also taking everything seriously as if this were truly a live or death situation, and not just you two in one of the back rooms of Sam’s shop. “Of course, the key is on the top shelf,” he muttered, grabbing a chair.

You came over, and kept a hand on the chair; the last thing you wanted to happen is Riddle falling. As much as you liked teasing him, you didn’t want him to get hurt.

“How’s the view up there?” Yes, it was a bad attempt at a joke, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Riddle’s eyes were locked on something, and he jumped down, practically running towards the lock. He started dialling the knob, and the next thing you knew, the timer stopped, and the door opened.

He turned to you, offering his hand and a smile, “The view? It proved most helpful… but thank you, this was fun.”

When you took his hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze, and you ignored how red his face was. Today was nice… even if he did most of the work, but you weren’t complaining since he had fun.

Overall; a good partner to have in an escape room, even if he does most of the work (trying to impress you)

. . . . .

Ace Trappola

“I bet I can beat ya at this escape room,” Ace yawned, stretching out on your sofa, looking all too comfortable.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “And what makes you think that, huh? Getting ahead of yourself, don’t cha think?”

Ace straightened himself out and gave you an impish grin. “What are you willing to bet on?” He placed his chin in his hand, thinking, but looking directly at you.

Damn him. “How about I don’t tell Professor Trein about the time you ‘borrowed’ a second year’s exam just so you didn’t have to study?” You mimicked his expression and pose, waiting for an answer.

Ace balked at that, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Alright, alright, no need to be nasty… but is that a yes or a no?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrugged, “how would you be able to get out–” You couldn’t finish your sentence since he threw a pillow at your face. “Don’t you think that’s childi–” You got hit with another pillow.

In the escape room

He was actually taking this pretty seriously since he didn’t know if you were joking about ratting him out. Wait, what did I bet? He forgot what he wanted to bet on if he won, and he mentally groaned at himself.

“Are ya finding anything of use over there?” You looked away from the bookcase, apparently not finding anything.

Ace looked over his shoulder to you, “What? Are you out of your depth, Sherlock?”

You grumbled, “You didn’t answer my question, Watson.” But you walked over to where Ace was trying to pick a lock. “You think that’s actually going to work? And where did you learn that?”

“I did, find something of use,” Ace murmured, focused on picking the lock. “And yes, it was by the safe. And I learned it from my brother. He said it would ‘impress a sweetheart’.” Ace felt his ears heating up; if his brother was here, he would be looking between you two before giving him a thumbs up.

Finally, the safe opened, and in it, was the code to get out. “You were saying?” He gave you a cocky grin, before punching in the pin and waltzing out.

“Thanks, this was fun,” you offered. But your face turned to annoyance, “UGH! I LOST THE BET!”

Overall; he’s decent at them, a bit of a brag, but his quick thinking will get you out pretty fast.

. . . . .

Deuce Spade

You actually brought the idea up to him while you were both walking to your next class together. “Say,” you bumped into his shoulder, catching his attention, “do you want to do an escape room with me?”

Without thinking, he answered. “Sure!” But he was mentally shaking himself. An escape room? He hadn’t done one of those before… plus wasn’t it like some big puzzle? “But wouldn’t Riddle be a better-”

“Nah, I just want to have fun, plus I wanna spend more time with you,” you answered with a bright grin.

Deuce blinked at your answer but offered you his own bright smile. “Okay then! I’ll give it everything I got!”

You clapped him on the shoulder, laughing a bit at his enthusiasm. “Okay, okay, okay! Excited I see! Meet me at Sam’s after your club practice, m’kay?”

“ALRIGHT!” He shouted, before remembering you were both in the hallway, and lowering his voice, lest he be scolded by Professor Crewel.

In the escape room

Deuce was flipping through the books, trying to find something while you were busy with a puzzle of some kind. Finding nothing, he walked over and started helping you put together some of the pieces.

You looked up, and you saw him bite his lip in concentration; it was quite endearing. “You know,” you break the silence, looking back to the puzzle, “I don’t mind if we don’t get out in time, this is supposed to be for fun.”

Deuce turned his eyes to you, “But it’s an escape room. Isn’t the point of it to escape?”

You looked at him again, and placed your chin in your hand, thinking. “Sure, that may be the main point of it, but also… to bond closer with people. To spend time with those we hold dear or want to improve our relationships with… figure out how their minds work.”

Deuce felt his face warming up, and just hoped that it wasn’t showing. “And you?”

“Me?” You smiled at him, as you put the last piece of the puzzle into place; it had a letter code, the code to get out. “I just wanted an excuse to spend some time with my favourite guy.”

Your favourite guy… Deuce helped you type into the pad, and as you both walked out, he was smiling brightly.

Overall; unsure of what he’s doing, but he’ll try his best to help you.

. . . . .

Trey Clover

You were both at Sam’s shop getting some groceries when you bumped into each other. “Buying out the entire store of its flour, huh?” You jested, looking from all of the flour bags to Trey.

Trey eyed your basket, “And you have enough tuna there to feed Grim for a bit.” But he huffed out a laugh, ignoring the main purpose of his trip, since he didn’t always get a chance to spend time with you.

“Ugh, I wish,” you sighed, eyeing all of the tuna cans that would probably last less than a day, knowing your glutton of a furball. “Hmmm, hey, we should do the escape room,” you offered.

Trey raised a brow, “Right now? Seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?”

You elbowed him, “Eh, common! If you get out before the timer goes off, you apparently get 50% off your purchase! Common Treyyyy.”

He elbowed you back, albeit more gently. “Hm, you drive a hard bargain… are you sure you’re not just Sam in some getup?”

You blew a raspberry at him, “I’ll take that as a yes!”

In the escape room

Trey was carefully looking over the pamphlet that Sam had given him that should have contained clues; should being the key word. It didn’t make a lick of sense to him though.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, and put the pamphlet into his back pocket. “Please tell me you’re having better luck than me–” But he didn’t see you anywhere. “Uh, Prefect? Y/N?”

You popped out from under the table, squinting up at him. “While you were busy reading, I was looking for clues.” And you went back under the table.

“And are you finding anything?” He asked, ducking down and crawling in after you. It was a tight squeeze but he managed to get beside you, joining you in your search.

You bumped your head against him by accident and hissed, “Nothing but dust and gross bubblegum.”

Trey sighed and crawled back out, looking at the clock; ten minutes left and still no idea on how to get out. “You really wanted that 50% off, huh?”

“Well, yeah. Crowley doesn’t exactly give me a living wage, you know.” You grumbled. “But I don’t mind… you’re more fun than Ace gives you credit for.”

Trey raised a brow, but shook his head, giving you a smile and a huff of amusement.

Overall; a good partner who keeps cool in the face of a deadline.

. . . . .

Cater Diamond

He was scrolling through his phone, bored at yet another Unbirthday party (which yet again had nothing but sweets), trying to find something that would actually be fun. That’s when he came across Sam’s Magicam account for his shop.

Huh, an escape room? He looked up from his phone, only to see one of the freshmen arguing with Riddle. Yeahhh, I’ll just go now– And he slipped away during the chaos.

And while he was walking, he saw a familiar face, and his eyes lit up upon seeing you. “Hey, hey!”

You turned around and shot Cater a peace sign. “Hey, hey, Cay-kun!” You matched his energy, finding it sort of infectious. “Surprised to see you out and about.”

Cater chuckled, “Me too, but uhhh… you don’t mind if I tag along with ya?”

You looked at him curiously, and shrugged, “Knock your socks off, I guess.” Your eyes widened though; Ace and Deuce were stuck at Heartslabyul, so you were bummed that you couldn’t go to the escape room… but now that Cater was here?

“Feel like escaping to somewhere else?”

In the escape room

Cater was filming — with your permission of course — during the entire time in the escape room. “Did you find anything?” He asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Nothing really useful,” you grumbled, “did find this coupon for spicy ramen though.” You handed it to Cater and winked theatrically at his camera.

Cater took the coupon and gave you a small smile. “Thanks! Do ya need any help?” He kneeled beside you, looking at the clue you were trying to build; yes, build. Sam really makes you work to get out in time, huh?

You poked him in the side, and Cater poked you back. “Expect nothing less, the man knows how to run a business.” You sighed, “But I guess we’re not getting out in time, sorry Cater.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said quietly. “I had fun, that’s what matters most.”

“But not getting out isn’t very Magicama–”

He shut off his camera, “This? It’s just a reminder of a fun time then… just for us.”

Overall; a fun partner to have, who is relaxed and goes with the flow. And no, he doesn’t post the video… that’s just for you and him.

...

Tag List; @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hydra-sea, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @lucid-stories, @savanaclaw1996, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 1 year

Note

Could you do the mercs with an s/o who is like- almost comically short?

Oh boy wouldn’t it be a shame if this anon asked me to do a size difference nsfw headcanons one next? Wink wink.

Mercs with an S/O who’s a small menace to society

WARNING: Older bigger men bullying the ever living shit out you. (kinda hot though?)

Scout:

- Scout will not hesitate to make fun of you at every given moment. He’s a decently tall dude so he’ll manhandle you a lot. Holding you in his arms like a personal teddy bear. Overall walking around with you in his arms.

- You bite his arms when you’re bored and he flinches and goes “Ow! What are you? A fuckin’ goblin?!” (Doesn’t he know? The smaller you are, the closer you are to hell.)

- “I could probably slug you into the stratosphere y’know.” He says. You don’t want to test that theory.

- When he’s upset he’ll pick you up, go into his quarters and lay there with you in his arms. Just like the aforementioned teddy bear analogy. If you’re screeching and biting like a fucked up chihuahua that doesn’t deter him.

————————————————————————

Soldier:

- Keeps giving you petnames like “Boot.” “Little one.” “Rat bastard.” (Ignore that last one.) and cheesy shit like that. Treats you how a rich middle aged white woman would treat her teacup pig. You’re being strapped to his back in a baby carrier while he rocket jumps.

- Gets incredibly rough with you on purpose. He likes seeing your squeaks and angry reactions. This guy definitely has a height difference thing. Throws you at enemy lines at like mach 20 knowing full well you’ll shred them like a fucking gremlin. Or stuffs you into his rocket launcher. Pick your evil.

- Lies about you being younger in order to pay less in restaurants. He somehow gets away with this 90 percent of the time. Spy is kind of envious that he didn’t even think of that.

- “NO! WAIT! DONT SHOOT! HANGFIRE! CHILD ON BATTLEFIELD!” He raises you above his head. You’re unbelievably pissed. You’re a grown ass adult. But the enemy lines somehow hesitate which abides him time to blow everyone up. He has no reason to be this smart about your height.

——————————————————————-

Demoman:

- The first time he saw you he burst out laughing. Really hard. Like nearly fell over and shit. He couldn’t stop laughing like actually. It took him days to even approach you properly and finally call you adorable.

- Picks you up when you can’t reach something off the top shelf and instead of helping you get it, he just sits you atop the shelf and leaves you there. They have to call either Heavy or Sniper in order to get you down.

- You take advantage of your height and perch on his shoulders like a parrot. The other mercs don’t understand why Demoman has a pet gremlin.

- “Er’ is my crotch goblin Y/N. They’re gonna bite your dick off if ye cap this point lad!” You can’t say you disagree with that.

————————————————————————

Engineer:

- A romantic partner whose tinier than him? Sign him the fuck up. Cradles you like a baby and kisses your head. Bounces you on his lap to soothe you. Expect a lot of sitting outside on the rocking chair at night while he rocks you in a blanket.

- You make grabby hands to him for uppies and he feels like he’s not allowed to say no. “Aww, sugarplum…” He cooes, setting down whatever he was working on and lifting you up into his arms. He might tickle your tummy if you’re fine with that :)

- Picks you up by the scruff of your uniform like a mother cat when you’re misbehaving. He will stare in amusement if you struggle.

- “Careful outside on the Badlands, darlin.. Never know when one of ‘em damn condors might be circling you.” You can’t decide if you want to kiss this man or kill him.

———————————————————————-

Heavy:

- You’re literally so small he’s scared of accidentally stepping on you or something. Always has to wiggle his way around you in the base corridors and mutter what you assume to be an apology in Russian. What you don’t know is that he’s actually cursing out the Administrator for hiring such a tiny Merc. What if you get squashed by falling debris or something?

- HE PICKS YOU UP WITH ONE HAND. YOU ARE IN HIS FUCKING FIST. YOU ARE BEING HELD LIKE AN ICE CREAM CONE.

- Treats you like a fucking stress ball. scoops you up in his hands and squishes your cheeks. Lays you on his lap like a small kitten belly up. No amount of biting or awful demon noises will ever convince him to do otherwise. Chuckles lovingly at your tiny anger. “Little, little, little. Tiny like the ant.” He baby talks you.

- Due to your height it’s impossible to bother him. Unlike the others. You can gnaw at his ankles and scratch at his chest but he remains unmoved like a large boulder. Threatens to splat you against the wall like one of those rubber toys and turn you into a pancake.

——————————————————————-

Pyro:

- In his point of view you’re actually terrifying. He doesn’t know why. But you stand out from the rest in their beloved Pyroland. You’re a creature from the primordial depths of hell that has come to eat their soul. You’re uncanny as shit.

- When they meet you for the first time it takes for godamn ever for the Mercs to finally figure out why Pyro was behaving so erratically and out of character. Engineer finally convinces poor Pyro to speak to you and it doesn’t end up in vain. You’re actually a pleasant scary monster.

- Spies don’t scare them. Pyro can kill spies with no effort. But you? Holy shit. Sometimes he doesn’t hear you come up behind them and this usually leads to Pyro spontaneously crying because you startled them. (Your team’s Spy is VERY envious of this.)

- You think this is great! You decide to play a prank on them by crawling on all fours down the dark hallway. Pyro looks like a deer in headlights. All tensed up like a cat attempting to look bigger. Two seconds later the entire base is on fire. You have to explain yourself to the other Mercs how this happened and it’s embarrassing.

- Whenever you kill someone on the battlefield it’s horrific shrieking mixed in with fleshy eating sounds.

—————————————————————-

Sniper:

- Calls you stuff like “Baby bear.” Mostly because he purposely holds you like a mama koala in his camper van’s bed and in the sniper nests. You cling to his lap and listen to his heartbeat while he scopes out the window.

- Same as scout to some extent. Carries you around wherever he goes and holds you like a plush doll. “Easy there on the lil’ daggers, mate.” You keep digging into his skin to hold steady.

- Growls at you when you bite him. Something about you both is evil and animalistic. Bites you back on your “scruff” when you bother him too much. He wants to shake you around in his teeth like a fucking chewtoy but he knows full well that might accidentally kill you. Has straight up cute aggression around you.

- Sniper your furry is showing. Helen, get yo fuckin dog bitch.

——————————————————————

Medic:

- “Well it seems you stopped growing at a certain age. That typically is due to genetics and other factors.” He says after looking at X-rays of your finger bones. Tracing his finger over the image of your growth plates as he squints to see better. He fixes his glasses back up on his nose and scratches his chin.

- He gives you a mischievous side smile. It’s unsettling. He secretly finds the size difference incredibly attractive. He tells you to take the lead vest off and waves his hand dismissively when you question his creepy expression. “What?! It is just my usual smile. I always look like this.”

- You’re not convinced. You take the vest off and straighten your team uniform a bit to get yourself situated. Without warning he grabs you by the wrist as you attempt to leave. “Ah-ba-ba-ba! I didn’t say you could go yet.” He pulls you against his chest. Forcibly. His natural heat was causing your heart beat out of your chest. He kneeled down and wrapped his arms around you. Cupping a hand over your mouth. You couldn’t move.

- The way you were (in theory) powerless was exhilarating for him. He placed his free hand on your chest and marveled in your heartbeat. Really? That’s all he wanted? Medic let out a long pleasured sigh. “Oh, that’s gooood.” He feels like he could potentially hold your tiny heart in a cute little decorated specimen jar but that would kill you, sadly. Can’t have that.

———————————————————————

Spy:

- Has unimaginable amounts of trauma from his father figure and you help him cope with said trauma a lot by being small. He deeply regrets passing by the chance of raising Scout. That in-and-itself was also a traumatic experience for him. Whenever it isn’t romantic lovey dovey adult time you lay in his arms and he looks over your adorable small body with adoration in his eyes.

- He rubs your small cheek and although he’s still frowning like always — you know full well this man is losing his mind on the inside. This was oddly healing for him. He felt butterflies in his chest as he gave you the love that his family never gave him. Jesus christ, somebody get this man a silicone baby or some shit. And a therapist. Mostly a therapist.

- He has no idea how to baby you to be honest. No fucking clue and he isn’t great at this. He does what he’s seen people do before in public. Wrap you in a blanket and pats your back. He says nothing as he does this. “There’s a scared little boy behind that mask isn’t there?” You ask him lovingly.

- He avoids eye contact after you say that. Looking away shamefully. His mouth twitches. You put your head under his chin contently.

- He stalks you and monitors you on the battlefield. Ready to stab the ever living crap out of anyone who overpowers you. In a particularly rough situation with an enemy heavy he risks his own life to backstab the opponent. You batter him for being too bold and exclaim that he could’ve killed himself. But Spy side eyes you, fixing his tie and cloaking away. He was secretly proud of himself that he had finally managed to protect somebody smaller than him. To make up for all the times he wasn’t there for Scout.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #medic x reader #spy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #pyro x reader #sniper x reader #there’s no way in hell i’m taking this ask seriously i’m sorry anon #there was a chance and I took it

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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

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writingforatwistedworld · 1 year

Text

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere, implied cannibalism, poison, vomiting, manipulation, obsession, murder, blood, posessiveness

Your totally normal isekaid househusband

What can I say? Life is good

Ok, maybe the circumstances the two of you met are a bit... “unusual” to say the least but hey, your marriage is more than beautiful

You go to work, bring home the bread and butter and Trey is happily doing house chores all whilst baking cakes for you

Sometimes he even gives some of those cakes to the neighbors

For some weird reason he won't let you eat those but who am I to ask such things?

The two of you are absolute darlings to the old ladies of your place

Always behaving like the perfect couple, never fighting, never having any problems...

Although you two do get a bit stressed whenever someone asks how you met

I mean, it is a bit unbelievable to say “One day he literally fell from the sky through my roof leaving a huge hole behind. Yes, that is why I needed a new roof that one time.”

So it's always just like “He had a bakery in a town far away from here and we just met there.”

Trey is also great with the neighborhoods children

What else did you expect? The guy has siblings and even though he says “baking with love is nonsense” does not mean he is an emotionless rock

Ah yes, baking... for some reason he refuses to let you enter the kitchen on some days

But that is not important. Maybe he is just deep-cleaning the place. You know, keeping it clean. What is important though are the disappearances of some of your neighbors

That old creepy guy that had eyed you with that look in his eyes? Suddenly gone. But it's sad that the elderly lady who had always spoiled you with sweets, even though you were over the age of that typical stereotype, was also gone

You just hoped she had moved to another place and forgot to tell everyone about that... uh... rather unlikely but hope dies last

Lately you had seen light from the kitchen on some nights only for your dear spouse to come out before you could enter and send you back to bed

He was surely just busy. Ah, what luck you had, meeting him even though it should be impossible

You aren't the only one who thinks like that. He himself knows that your meeting goes against all the odds, and even more, him becoming your partner

Trey is a realistic person. He doesn't realize things so he is also aware that if it was you falling into his world you probably wouldn't even have taken notice of him

And oh, does he love your attention. So much in fact that he can't help but stare through the window at the noisy little bas- ahem, lovely neighbor from behind the curtains, molten gold drilling holes into their head

The first time he did it Trey had to vomit, the stench of iron and something that makes a human run away because it screamed their mortal demise clogged his nose

But he continued, in the morning he had a pretty cake

When he handed it to the older lady he almost felt guilty, then he remembered the time they stole from you which could be spend with him

Then he repeated the process the next evening

When you had asked him about the cake baking in the oven he had told you that it was not for you, a new recipe that he wanted to give another neighbor to try before giving it to you

Good thing you haven't found the bottle of rat poison in the back of the shelf. A special ingredient filled with love just for your neighbors. Isn't he such a great husband caring for the community?

Never for you though. Sorry, darling

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blues824 · 1 year

Note

Reader with the first year having friendship love? like they could flirt or call each other a 'slut' or whatever and just laugh about, not having any romantic feelings!

Let’s play a little “Bro’s the Type”, shall we?

Ace Trappola

Bro’s the type to respond positively to being called ‘slut’

Bro’s the type to call you ‘hoe’ in response

Bro’s the type you call at 1 am just to annoy

Bro’s the type to call you in the morning to say “What up baby?” in the raspy morning voice just to make you laugh

Bro’s the type to quote different Magicam memes with you

Bro’s the type to have a ‘girly middle school’ sleepover with you just because

Bro’s the type to pull pranks on you at every single chance he gets

Bro’s the type to egg your ex’s house/dorm if the douche canoe cheats on you

Bro’s the type to send you memes even if you are both in class

Bro’s the type to give you a look of panic when you have a test, but that panic doubles when you’re giving him the same exact look

Deuce Spade

Bro’s the type to not react positively to being called ‘slut’

Bro’s the type to not come up with a nickname for you and just call you by your name

Bro’s the type to be there for you

Bro’s the type you would call in the case that there’s a creep

Bro’s the type who you could put down as a reference to anything

Bro’s the type to try and help you on homework, but not know what the fuck he’s talking about

Bro’s the type to not let you do all the work but rather divide it evenly

Bro’s the type to consult you whenever he’s uncertain about something (PTSD from the egg situation)

Bro’s the type to leave you on delivered for hours and even days on-end

Bro’s the type to say ‘oops. didn’t see this until now’ as an apology smh

Jack Howl

Bro’s the type to not react at all to being called ‘slut’

Bro’s the type to roll his eyes at any corny pun you throw at him

Bro’s the type to partner up with you if you want to start working out and exercising and hold you accountable

Bro’s the type to be a gym bro

Bro’s the type to push you far so you can discover your true potential

Bro’s the type to actually accidentally leave you on delivered, and has a valid excuse

Bro’s the type you call when you can’t sleep and he’ll tell you a story about his siblings

Bro’s the type to text you before he puts his phone on silent

Bro’s the type to roll his eyes when he sees that he still has 69 missed calls and 420 unread texts from you

Bro’s the type to prefer texts rather than calls

Epel Felmier

Bro’s the type to shout at you when you do something stupid

Bro’s the type to scratch the back of his neck when he does something stupid

Bro’s the type to throw hands when you call him ‘shawty’

Bro’s the type to throw hands that you can’t catch when you show up to his dorm and say ‘SURPRISE SHAWTY’

Bro’s the type to do the late-night workouts to try and get stronger and taller

Bro’s the type to try and prank you

Bro’s the type to fail in pranking you, and scream when you rat him out to Vil just for trying to prank you

Bro’s the type to let out his Southern drawl around you because he’s comfortable

Bro’s the type to ask you to help him reach a balance between masculine and feminine because Pomefiore has made its impression on him

Bro’s the type to ask you ‘if I was a worm, would you still be my friend?’

Ortho Shroud

Bro’s the type to act like a kinder younger brother

Bro’s the type to watch Big Hero 6 with you and take inspiration from Baymax

Bro’s the type to go around waiting for you to get hurt just to ask you to rate your pain on a 1-10 scale

Bro’s the type to be confused when you say ‘I like the pain’

Bro’s the type to research memes so he can understand what you’re saying

Bro’s the type to help you with your homework, but not give you the answers

Bro’s the type to try and recruit you in a huge plot to try and get his older brother to walk outside for an hour at least

Bro’s the type to not be surprised when you end up chucking Idia outside and yelling ‘THIS BITCH EMPTY. YEET’

Bro’s the type to ask Idia ‘how would you rate your pain’

Bro’s the type to greet you with a ‘smile’

Sebek Zigvolt

Bro’s the type to yell at you for calling him ‘slut’

Bro’s the type to yell at you in general

Bro’s the type to not know how to be a good friend

Bro’s the type you have to teach about friendship because he has dedicated his entire life to worshiping Malleus and therefore never had the time for normal friendships

Bro’s the type to ditch you for Malleus

Bro’s the type to leave you on read, and for days at a time

Bro’s the type to have the Twisted Wonderland equivalent of an Android (no hate, it’s just that blue>green in my not-so-humble opinion)

Bro’s the type to not see the problem with the green text messages

Bro’s the type to yell at you for being unprofessional when you were ‘flirting’ (platonically) with him

And finally, bro’s the type to really cherish your friendship, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

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itslottiehere · 1 year

Text

mors tua, vita mea — h.s

hello beautiful people 🤍 welcome back! i know, i know, it’s been a while, but i truly hope this story makes up for the lack of writing! i’ve had so much fun while writing this, and i hope you’ll like it as much as i do <3 please, let me know what you think! you can do so in your reblog, in your tags, or in my asks! if you enjoy the story, please consider reblogging! it really helps me and also make me want to keep going!! without further ado, happy reading! <3

— inspired by “getaway car” by taylor swift.

cw: angst, a bit of kissing, some swear words

word count: 6.5k

gif by @londonharry

masterlist | leave your feedback or requests here

—

the backstreet was dark, a few spots of light showing her the way to the car she hid before the heist took place. before chris could know that there was only one way that night could have ended, and that was with him locked up.

she had been planning this for months now: their biggest heist, her biggest betrayal.

she wasn’t sentimental about it at all, it was just pure business: she knew the cops were closing in on them, so she had to leave before shit hit the fan. simple as that.

also, chris was becoming way too attached to her as it was, so it was really a two birds with one stone deal for her: she had always made it clear that their “relationship” was nothing more than work, but sometimes the nights in the safe house got boring and lonely, and the company was appreciated.

still, a few nights of sex didn’t mean there were feelings involved or anything of that sort, and no matter how much chris said that he “got it”, she noticed the changes in his attitude, how protective of her he became, how his touch would linger for a second longer, how he would double and triple check with her if she got wounded, how he would always make sure she was safe before worrying about his own safety.

how he made it so easy for her to manipulate him.

the poor thing never saw it coming. the pink lenses of infatuation making him painfully oblivious to the fact that he was never gonna see her again.

both her and the outside world, from her calculations: the cops would find plenty of evidence on him, in the safe house, that would tie him up with a pretty little bow and send him off to prison for god’s know how long, all the while making him the perfect scapegoat for her.

she couldn’t know if chris would rat her out, — although she thought it not likely, given the lovesick puppy look he had ever since they slept together, — but even if he tried to, she made sure not to leave any trace of her identity in any document, in anything that had to do with any illegal activity.

and even if she did, they wouldn’t have found her: the identity she used wasn’t hers, and she was gonna stop being the person chris knew as soon as she drove away, her new id card safely stored in the pocket of her jacket, the old one burnt to a crisp.

the soles of her shoes were scraping against the gravel, the ground wet from the light november rain, while she jogged to what would bring her into a new life, a new start. she had to get out of there, immediately.

what she wasn’t expecting was a dark silhouette appearing on the other side of the alley, seemingly jogging towards her.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

she was so sure she had locked the exit door on the back, so how did chris manage to get out? he would have had to figure out she was planning on framing him.

if that was the case, this wasn’t gonna end well.

she opened up the door to her car, ready to bolt, when the unknown figure spoke slowly: “wait.”

that was not chris. the voice was deep, rough, and the way he pronounced just one single word made chills run through her body.

or maybe that was just the adrenaline of it all, the fear of getting caught betraying her partner by said partner.

“wait.” the figure spoke once more, getting closer to the car. “i need a lift.”

what the actual fuck? did he take her for an uber driver or something?

she scoffed and got in the car, keys inside the ignition, ready to drive off.

which couldn’t be done since the tall figure decided to stand in the middle of the alley.

she couldn’t really honk, not when the alarms inside the building were about to go off and the place was about to be stormed by cops. she had to leave, and if she had to run over him, then so be it.

she put her foot on the gas, put in the first gear and was very much convinced that the man would decide to move out of the way.

but she had no such luck.

his hands hit the hood of her car, hard, while she pressed on the breaks with all her strength in order to not make him flat on the ground.

so much for survival instincts, she thought.

“were you really about to run me over?” the man spoke — his figure now becoming clearer since he was nearer than before. a lazy smirk cut his face. “mmh. i like you.”

and just like that he was opening the passenger’s door, seating down and buckling his seatbelt.

she was utterly shocked, what the hell was going on, why was he- “who the fuck are you? and what the actual fuck do you think you’re doing in my car?”

the man chuckled lowly, casting two deep indents in his cheeks. “oh wow, they didn’t tell me the owl had such a filthy mouth.”

the name made her eyes go wide: the owl. working in the darkest hours of the night was her distinctive trait, hence the nickname she chose for herself while doing business.

“‘m harry, by the way. don’t have a cool nickname like yours yet, but perhaps i should find one. what about the puma? what do you think?”

she scoffed, looking straight and finally driving away. “well, harry or the puma or whatever you wanna be called-”

“harry is just fine.”

“alright, harry, would you mind telling me why the fuck are you here?” her patience was wearing thin and she really didn’t want to lose any more time on this.

“oh right, sort of forgot to tell you, didn’t i? okay, well, my dear owl- hold up, don’t i get to know your name? i told you mine.” he turned his body to face her.

judging by the deep frown of her eyebrows and how set her eyes were on the road in front of them, he assumed he wouldn’t get it that easily.

“well, doesn’t matter for now. so, back to where i was: i have been checking you out for a while, saw your latest works and was very impressed. i’m in need of a partner, and from what i saw tonight, so do you.” he spoke, and in the far distance they could hear the police sirens and spot the blue and red lights: everything was about to go down.

harry coming to bother her on that particular night was really somewhat karmic, wasn’t it? she screwed over her partner, so fate had to bring an annoying man in her plans, once again. she cleared her throat, her tone dry.

“how did you know what i would do?”

harry turned once again towards the road. “i knew the police was closing in on you, so i thought that if you played your cards right you may have the chance to get away, and the better escape plan would have been to ditch your partner.” the man in her passenger seat stretched his legs, his arms raised up, his voice coming out a bit strained. “word on the street was that tonight something was going down, i thought to check it out to see if it was actually gonna be you. my lucky night, i’d say.”

harry had heard plenty about the owl’s operations and was extremely intrigued by her. the plans were intricate, but incredibly well thought out, and often went down without a hitch, and the chosen artworks to be stolen being invaluable masterpieces made it all the more admirable. he knew as soon as he saw one of her biggest heists go down so smoothly that he desperately wanted to be in business with her, so he began keeping tabs on her, which brought him in that alley, that precise night.

he didn’t expect to be so entranced to her.

sure, he was in awe of her plans and the way she carried on her business, but he was struck by her. even more than her looks, it was the confidence she radiated from her stance, her set gaze, her clenched jaw, that was what drew him in immediately.

he knew she was trouble, especially given her line of work. but it seemed like he couldn’t help himself to fall under her spell, and that was saying something, since she tried to run him over not even 20 minutes prior.

oh, poor harry didn’t know what he was getting into.

she wasn’t dumb, nor blind: harry was a treat for the eyes, and obviously way more prepared than chris ever was. still to that day she couldn’t believe he didn’t see it coming, it was all so clear to her. she was sneaky, of course, but he must’ve had some clue, right? or well, she guessed that what people say is true: love makes you dumb.

harry was another league, though. he kept track of her, which must’ve not been easy since she always took so many precautions to keep everything on the down low; he discovered her plan and also understood that the better route for her was to ditch her partner.

he definitely had more experience than chris, and that could be an advantage: for once, she could have someone to bounce ideas off of, and since harry managed to find out her ironclad plans, it means that something wasn’t as hidden as she would’ve liked, and having him could help with that.

when she started her business, she swore that she had to be the one calling all the shots: being the perfectionist she is, she couldn’t relegate the responsibility of something so important like a heist to someone who wasn’t herself. she decided to get a partner — enter, chris — just because sometimes it was physically impossible to do it all on her own. that didn’t change the fact that he was merely a mean to an end, he had no voice whatsoever in planning anything, and not once had he complained about it, nor he had any reason to: the money was good, and once he even got to win her affection — or well, what he thought could’ve turned into something more — he was good with doing whatever she wanted.

she had the feeling it wasn’t gonna be like this with harry.

or well, at least not that easy.

“that was impressive, not going to lie. it mustn’t have been easy to keep track of my movements. so, bravo.” she spoke, her eyes quickly glancing towards him.

a smirk took place on harry’s face, the praise of such a pro stroking his ego. “it was, but very much worth it.”

his voice was smooth like silk, and even the dumbest person walking on earth could’ve felt the flirty undertones of his words from miles away.

she quickly thought about it, a new plan. a new, better plan.

“okay, pretty boy. if you can keep up, i can think about being partners. that is, if you prove worthy of my time.”

“deal.” he smiled, and again the dimples on his cheeks made an appearance. “pretty boy, huh? should that be my badass nickname?”

“still better than the puma.”

that night marked the beginning of a new era, four years of the most lucrative, crazy, exciting heists the both of them could have ever imagined.

and over the course of those years, the inevitable and not so unexpected happened: they fell for each other, and they fell hard.

endless night of planning, scheming, and building trust with each other turned them into real life bonnie and clyde, absolutely drunk on adrenaline and love.

it was definitely not something she had planned, not something she had wanted either, but there was no denying chemistry: sometimes, things just happen, and you have no choice but to let them run their course.

harry was just as smitten: he was hooked from the beginning, and fought hard to win her over from day one.

it started as a ‘business partners with benefits’ kind of deal, a way to ‘pass the time’, — at least for her, harry was already harboring feelings for the woman — but it bloomed into something more, somewhat organically.

he still teased her that she became soft for him when he got injured during an escape: the rope attached to the top of the building didn’t hold up harry, who suffered a bad fall. his shoulder was dislocated, and she had to be the one who had to put it back in place, since hospitals weren’t really an option, and harry couldn’t ignore the look she held in her eyes, as if even just the thought of hurting him was physically hurting her.

he didn’t expect it, definitely not from someone like the infamous owl: she showed no remorse for her actions, no feelings for the first six months of them working together, and he made peace with the fact that that was just the way it was gonna be, but was pleasantly surprised when that revealed not to be the case.

the world knew her as a scheming, logical woman, but harry had the privilege of being her soft spot.

he was always a pretty open guy, not scared of having big feelings or of falling in love. he had already felt it in the past, he just wasn’t prepared to experience how powerful it could feel with the right person: what he felt for her was something out of a novel, a perfect mixture of infatuation, almost obsession, adrenaline and maybe insanity, and it was so incredibly addicting.

the last heist was a perfect success, their biggest bag as a matter of fact. the artwork they managed to steal had taken months upon months of planning, but it all went down incredibly smoothly: 7 minutes, in and out, exactly like they had wanted. they were already far when the police arrived, harry behind the wheel, driving their getaway car.

with chris, she had never let him drive, ever: she had to be in control of everything, of every little aspect, probably because she never fully trusted him. but she did trust harry, wholeheartedly so.

the drive to the dingy motel wasn’t too long, the night chill enveloping them thanks to the lack of a roof on their car. the adrenaline was running high still, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and leaving a kiss on harry’s smiling lips, their grins quite too big to properly kiss each other. but it didn’t matter, the feeling was all the same, the rush quite impossible to describe to someone who never felt it.

harry disconnected their lips, not before leaving a quick peck once again, and looked back to the barely lit country road ahead of them.

“very risky to distract me like that right now, sweetheart.”

“couldn’t help it, pretty boy. you’re just too damn good-looking.” she smiled at the nickname, and harry did too: it stuck ever since that first night, and harry definitely never complained.

“c’mon, we’re almost at the motel.” harry’s hand took its rightful place on her left thigh, softly squeezing the flesh, awakening a storm of butterflies and inviting them to bat their wings in her stomach. she rested her hand on top of his, gently toying with his rings.

the motel neon sign was missing a few letters, its occupants nothing less than unsavory, but she didn’t care: she wasn’t one to be scared in the first place, much less with harry by her side.

once they got to their room, she locked the door and quickly found her back pressed into it, harry’s lips straight on hers. she knew what was coming, it happened every single time after a hit: the euphoria of a successful heist was a very powerful aphrodisiac.

harry’s lips pressed slowly against her own, he was in no hurry now. after he felt her body relaxing in his hold, he moved onto her neck, and smiled against her skin when he heard a shaky breath falling from her lips after he sucked lightly on the spot he knew would drive her crazy.

her hand went immediately into his hair, tugging on the curls she loved to play with at every chance she got, while the other travelled down his torso, heading towards his belt.

knowing where she was going, harry detached his lips from her neck and looked at her: flushed cheeks, her eyes — his favorite feature of hers — slightly glazed over, her lips full and a raspberry colour. he smiled at the sight.

“sweetheart,” he murmured. “sweetheart, hey.”

“mmh?” she hummed, her hands roaming under his shirt, feeling the expanse of his tummy and chest, pressing her lips in the dip of his throat.

harry hated to have to tear himself away from her and her touch, but a shower was in order, and also making her wait made the whole situation way more intriguing, her getting antsy waiting for him really did a number on him.

her forehead rested on his chest, a small whine falling from her lips when he felt him trying to move away from her, which made harry chuckle. he softly pressed a kiss to the top of her head, slowly walking backwards towards the restroom, but her arms refused to leave his body, so she was stumbling along with him, her cheek still smushed against his chest.

harry reached behind his back to untangle her arms from his waist, not without her protesting. he leaned in and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, murmuring a low “be right back”, before leaving the room.

she felt drunk, as she usually did whenever harry was in near proximity, but there was nothing she could do about it.

she laid down on the dingy bed, eagerly waiting for her lover to be back and, to kill the time, she decided to turn on the tv.

what she saw sobered her up real quick.

the news were reporting a robbery at a famous gallery, two figures with their dark hoodies up filmed from a camera at the end of the alley.

a camera both she and harry failed to notice.

they were lucky the camera was at the opposite end of the dark and unlit alley, and caught just a glimpse of their backs, but this wasn’t good. this was not supposed to happen.

never, in all her years of planning, had she forgot to notice a camera, and the fact that this happened with their biggest heist made the blood drain from her face.

she tried her hardest to lower her heart rate and to focus on what the newscaster was saying: two suspects, no faces identified, probably left by car, all the other cameras in the block were somehow off during the escape — somehow actually being the work of one of harry’s acquaintances — and the police had no leads for the moment.

all things considered, it wasn’t bad at all.

so why couldn’t she seem to catch her breath?

the bathroom door creaked open, a bit of steam filling the room. harry stepped out, a towel hanging on his lower half, his body glistening with little droplets of water, hair matted and still dripping a little.

he had a dopey smile on his lips, which soon fell once he noticed that she wasn’t ogling at him as she usually would when he stepped out of a shower.

“hey,” he called out to her, “something wrong?”

she didn’t even notice that harry had walked back into the room, so she slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. her head quickly turned towards him, as she just as quickly turned the tv off.

“of course, yeah.” she smiled. “missed you.”

“could’ve joined me, you know?” he grinned, “never would refuse a beautiful lady like you.” he got closer to her and pressed his lips softly against hers.

she reciprocated the kiss, disconnecting it quite a bit earlier than harry would’ve liked, and murmured still close to his lips, “can we cuddle for a bit?”

harry’s hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs slowly stroking the apples, “yeah, of course. want my shirt to sleep in?”

she excitedly nodded, staring at his back while he retrieved a shirt from his luggage.

sleep came quickly to harry, his arm holding her tightly against his chest, comforted by the feeling of having her safe in his arms.

she still couldn’t quite catch her breath.

harry woke up to an empty bed: the creamy rays of sun beamed through the worn blinds, rousing him awake. as he did every morning, he reached for her, looking forward to hooking his arm around her waist and feel her snuggle against his chest. but that day, his hand touched a cold piece of comforter instead of the warm, soft body of his girl.

his eyes opened immediately, trying to adapt to the light, his brows furrowed as he knuckled his eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness. his slightly startled heart stopped once he saw her seated at the little desk the room provided, typing away on her computer, wrapped in his sweatshirt with her hair still damp from the shower she probably had just taken.

way too focused on adjusting the last details of the meetup with the buyer for that same night, she jumped when she felt two strong arms engulfing her.

“morning, love.” his morning voice was a gift straight from heaven, it never failed to make her feel warm and cozy. “don’t like it when i wake up without you.”

she could hear the pout on his face, and she smiled at the notion that he was so affected by her absence. “good morning, pretty boy. just had to take a shower and finalize the details for the drop off with the buyer tonight.” she turned around and looked at his still half closed eyes. she tilted her head up, puckering her lips a little, “kiss?”

harry didn’t miss a beat and laid his mouth on hers, moaning softly at the contact.

she hadn’t lied per se, she had to do all of what she said, but she also couldn’t stand lying awake in that bed for one more second: she had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, the video of them on the news flashing continuously in her mind.

so she tried to focus on work, to get things right before they could go wrong.

the day went by as usual, the two of them laying low, preparing for the meetup with this anonymous buyer. the sum of money this person was offering was definitely mind blowing, and there was no way they could turn it down.

in the late afternoon, they left the motel to reach the location given to them: it was a rundown warehouse, obviously abandoned, and they were under strict orders to arrive at 8pm on the dot, to leave the car outside the main gate, and proceed by feet till they arrived to the container with the number 258: that was where they’d find an employee of the buyer.

it was all routine, they almost never handled a deal with the buyer directly, and they understood the reason. she and harry never exchanged names as well, for safety reasons, or any other details, just informations about the drop.

at 7:50pm, they were parked outside the warehouse. the chill of the desert air made the hair on her arms stand, a shiver running down her spine.

“cold?” harry asked, after he noticed her shudder. it wasn’t that cold at the moment for him, and it was probably gonna be worse once the sun was set all the way, but nonetheless he put his jacket on her shoulders, his big hands running up and down her upper arms to give her some warmth.

she smiled at the gesture, and tilted her head up, “thank you.”

he reciprocated the smile and took her hand, in the other one holding the bag containing the stolen piece of art. “of course, darling. now let’s go, wanna be back in that motel bed as soon as possible,” he cheekily remarked.

they walked hand in hand till they found the container 258, and knocked three times, as instructed. the shutter was pulled up, a man dressed in a suit, who looked to be in his forties, appearing behind it.

“welcome, you must be the sellers. please, come in.” the unknown man spoke, and she and harry made their way inside.

harry laid the bag carefully on the table, beside a briefcase, previously set down.

“thank you, sir. as per your request by email, the-”

“actually,” harry interrupted, “you didn’t speak with me. she,” he pointed to the girl beside him, who had a stony expression, “is the head of the whole operation, so if you want to explain something to someone, you can do so with her.”

this was also something they were both used to, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. if only they knew they were actually talking to the owl, they’d probably kiss the her shoes.

the deal was over in 5 minutes, the majority of which was spent with the two of them counting the money, making sure every penny was in that briefcase. after confirming so, they barely said goodbye to that sexist prick, and went back to their car.

the drive to the motel was quiet, but not uncomfortably so: harry’s right hand took place on her left thigh as usual, while her arm was stretched behind his headrest, playing mindlessly with his curls, scratching his scalp lightly.

“hey, pretty boy.” she called, a soft smile on her lips.

harry smirked at the nickname, he couldn’t help it, “yes?”

“i really love you,” she softly said, taking her hand away from his hair and moving it to stroke his cheekbone, “you know that?”

harry couldn’t help but feel his tummy warm up at her words, his cheeks getting a bit flushed. “i do know, darling, but thank you for the reminder.” he snickered, “i love you too.” he said, and took his right hand off her leg to grab her hand, planting a soft kiss to her palm, and to every knuckle.

once they finally reached the motel, harry turned off the ignition and turned to face her. his hand took a hold of her jaw, and pressed a kiss against her pouty lips. she sighed into the kiss, a thing that drove harry absolutely crazy.

“what if-” she tried to talk, but was quickly interrupted by harry kissing her again, “we go to the room to-” another kiss, “put down our things and-”, yet another kiss, “then we have a drink at the bar?” she put her hand on harry’s chest to push him a bit further, or else she wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence. “if i’m not mistaken it’s right by the reception. sounds good?”

harry nodded, and to seal his agreement he kissed her once again.

after making their way down from their room into the motel bar, they sat down at the counter, harry’s hand on her back while she climbed on the stool.

the bar was definitely empty, just a couple of old men sat in the corner of the room, a deck of cards between them.

“two old fashioned, please.” harry asked the man behind the counter.

it was a sort of a tradition, getting that drink after a deal: the first time they did a deal together, he was the one suggesting going for a drink, which she — surprisingly to him — did not turn down. once they reached the pub nearby, she ordered an old fashioned, and asked harry what he wanted, to which he answered “the same”, and it became a tradition ever since then.

“oh wait-” she said all of a sudden, which made harry turn his head towards her.

“oh i’m sorry, did you want something else?” he asked, unsure of even his question, since she had never ordered something else.

she quickly shook her head, “no no, don’t worry, i just realized i forgot my phone in our room.” she stood from the stool, “i’m gonna go get it and i’ll be right back, alright?” after she spoke, she left a lingering kiss on his cheek.

harry hummed and with a little smile, he playfully said, “be quick, i’m gonna miss you.”

she returned his smile, and opened the motel bar door, “i’m gonna miss you too, pretty boy.”

harry didn’t think any of it after ten minutes, she probably got caught up on something online, or had to answer to an email right away and couldn’t wait.

he didn’t think any of it after twenty minutes, thinking she may have had a call to make and it was taking a bit longer than usual. he settled on shooting her a message, asking if she was fine. the message was left on delivered.

but after thirty minutes, he needed to check on her. what if she was sick and he was there waiting for her at the bar like an idiot? what if there was a problem and she needed his help, even if she would most likely never admit it?

he left some banknotes on the counter, and rushed his way upstairs.

once he stood in front of the door, his blood run cold: the door was ajar.

something was wrong, very wrong.

carefully, he pushed the door, reaching for his pocket knife; once it was open, his eyes darted around the room, looking for something out of place.

the thing is, it wasn’t that something was out of place, it was that something was missing: her bag, her clothes, her laptop, herself, they were all missing. there was no trace of her, as if she had never been there.

“what-” he rushed in, the door left slightly open behind him. he hastily opened the bathroom door, checking if maybe she was there, but, alas, she was not.

“what the fuck is going on?” harry muttered to himself, so confused that he was sure that his movements weren’t even making sense. his head kept turning from side to side, trying to find something, anything to help him understand what was going on.

he was never one to panic, always been a pretty clearheaded guy in every situation he’s found himself in, but not when his girl was involved, and especially when he was totally in the dark about what had happened.

his eyes finally zeroed in on a piece of paper on the desk.

of course, of course she’d be smart and leave him some sort of trace, so he could find her and get her back.

he stumbled on his steps, his legs wobbling as if made of jelly and with frantic fingers, he opened the piece of paper, which showed just four, short words.

mors tua, vita mea.

“wh-what, no-”, he rambled, shaking his head energetically, choosing not to believe the reality that was downing on him. “no, no, it can’t-” he kept chanting, over and over, but his rambling was cut short.

in his peripherals, he saw the red and blue lights bouncing off the dirty white walls of the motel room, the sound of the police car doors closing and of the steps of the officers coming up the stairs, but the sounds were almost muted, the shock making his ears ring.

the door was pushed open, three officers coming in first, guns blazing, while the others were surely waiting all around the motel, pointing their guns at him through the windows.

“put your hands up! over your head!”

harry robotically obliged, not in control of his body anymore.

“harry styles, you’re under arrest. you have the right to remain silent, anything you say…”.

he didn’t hear the rest of the miranda rights over the sound of the faith he had in her shattering, puncturing his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

—

18 months later.

“styles, you have a visitor.”

harry’s eyes opened at the voice of the guard, the ceiling of his cell staring back at him. those were words he didn’t get to hear often, only two other times, and both times it was always a nosy journalist wanting to write a story about a pretty successful art thief. he laid still, pondering whether to go or stay in his shoe box of a cell for the rest of the day.

“styles, get up. i don’t have all day.”

harry dragged his feet along the corridor, and once he arrived to the designated room, he headed towards the seat the officer pointed. once he sat down, he grabbed the black phone receiver, and didn’t even bother looking at the person standing in front of him, his eyes closed already in annoyance.

“look, if you’re another fucking journalist, i’m not gonna say a word to you, so you wasted your time coming here and i’m asking you to leave.”

the person in front of him hesitated, as he heard a shallow breathe on the other end of the receiver.

“hi, pretty boy.”

harry’s eyes had never opened so fast, and his heart skipped a beat.

no, no, this wasn’t real, this was just his mind playing tricks on him: stupid, fucking horrible and cruel tricks.

the voice didn’t match the exterior: the person in front of him had another haircut, a whole other hair colour, the eyes — the feature he most loved about her — covered by large sunglasses.

but he knew. he knew it was her: the way her lips were set in her natural pout, the shape of her face, the freckle she had at the right corner of her bottom lip.

the way his heart was going out of his chest trying to reach for her.

he was supposed to hate her — and he did, he so did — but the way his nickname fell from her lips lit up something in him, something that no matter how much he wanted it to be dormant, it was still there.

his brain could only manage to ask her the one question that nagged at him ever since that day.

“why.”

he stared at her through the glass, green tired eyes boring into her soul. she knew it was risky, showing up at a prison under yet another false identity, but she knew she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye one last time. one real last time.

so she swallowed harshly, and opened her mouth, keeping her answers short in order not to break down.

“think about the place where you first met me, harry.” she murmured, while his stony expression was staring back at her. “i had no other choice.”

harry chuckled darkly, a grin so deranged that she felt her blood run cold. this answer of hers opened the gate to all the hatred that had been boiling in him for 18 long months.

“that’s such bullshit, and you know it. you had a choice — you fucking did — and you made it. you chose to tip-off the police, you chose to leave your name out of every document, you chose to use a fake identity with me as well, and make it impossible to track you; you chose to pack your bags and steal the car, you chose to leave me behind and letting me take the blame for it.” his voice was laced with venom. “i spent 18 fucking months in this cell, with just one question running through my mind, all day, all night, every day: why did you choose to do this to me.”

“harry, i told you, i had-”

“bullshit!” he screamed, a prominent vein on his neck, while smashing his fist against the plastic glass, over and over again. “you ruined my fucking life, and you have the gall to give me that as the reason why you did it? tell me the truth! tell me the fucking truth! you owe me at least that.”

the volume of his voice and the violence he was hitting the glass with made her stand up and hang up the receiver, scrambling to get away from him before his actions brought too much attention on her as well. three officers had to come in to stop harry from smashing down the glass and jumping on the other side of the window, and had to drag him away whilst he was still fighting with all his strength, his legs kicking and arms flailing trying to be freed, his voice repeatedly shouting just one word, over and over: why.

nine days later, harry found himself moved to a facility of a higher security rank: his violent act during the visit wasn’t an isolated episode, and basically opened the door to a side of harry that he never knew. he never knew such anger in his life.

the guard guiding him stopped in front of the nth same looking cell.

“bradford, your new roomie is here.” the guard sarcastically said, making harry want to punch his face in, but unable to do so because of the cuffs on his wrists.

the man laying in the bunk barely scoffed and glanced at harry while he was walking into his new “home”.

once the guard went away, bradford turned to harry and looked him up and down, then returned to stare at the ceiling. harry could perhaps even manage to put up with the guy, if he always kept this quiet, but he felt like at least an introduction was to be done, to be the least civil. “‘m harry, harry styles. and you are?”

his new cellmate groaned softly while standing up, putting his legs down from the bunk.

“i’m bradford, chris bradford. and i know exactly who you are.”

harry was definitely dumbfounded, “what? how do you-?”

“your case was all over the news, even inmates got to know about it. but most of all, i know you because i’ve been you.”

harry’s confusion must’ve been displayed clearly on his face, because chris just scoffed and kept on talking.

“we’ve been framed by the same person." he murmured, "and we’re gonna take her down together.”

—

the latin phrase mors tua vita mea, of medieval origin, means “your death, my life” (or: “your death (is) my life”).

beyond the dramatic tone of the literal sense, this expression is used when within a competition or in the attempt to reach a goal there can be only one winner: the saying indicates that the failure of one is an indispensable prerequisite for the success of another.

—

taglist: @a-strange-familiar @stilesissaved @harrysonlylover @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kittenhere @neverstaisfied

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please, let me know what you think and please, please reblog! thank you so much for being here, it means the world <3 also, just a little fyi, there's no plan for a part 2!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #getaway car #harry styles x you #my writing #harry styles story #harry styles imagine

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