#eventual mary goore
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As Above, So Below
// Chapter One \\
Pairing(s): Papa Emeritus III/Reader, Mary Goore/Reader (Eventual)
Tags: Discussion of Death, Angst, Mostly set up for later chapters tbh. SFW (not for long, i promise)
Word Count: 3.7K
Summary: Right before his death, Terzo asks you to protect something for him. Fast forward a few years and you're still in possession of a strange magical box that cannot be opened on your own. However, on one very strange day, it all changes when you cross a line with Papa Emeritus the Fourth, and he sends you down to the catacombs...
You think about your last conversation with Papa Emeritus the Third often. It plagues your mind the way a bad after taste lingers in your mouth long after consumption, leaving you with a bitterness that's both hungry and suffocating. It was one that only made sense now in grief, the hidden meaning of his carefully chosen words clearer to your wiser ears. Terzo was an open book yet shrouded in mystery, never truly revealing his true wants or motivations. The way he danced around the topic in conversations had led highly ranking members of the clergy to underestimate him, but you knew the truth.
Terzo was clever, there was no man nor devil whom he couldn't convince to do his bidding. Yet he stood before you that night a desperate, broken man, closer to human than you'd ever seen him, and it felt like sobering up after a night of heavy drinking. Everything that came before felt like a fairytale shrouded in a translucent veil when standing in the pale light of a backstage dressing room.
He spoke of his impending death so casually and nonchalantly, if you hadn't been paying attention, you might have thought he was speaking on the tour.
"I feel a storm coming, Sorella," His smokey voice called out to you from across the room, mismatched gaze staring at you from the dirty mirror on the wall.
The adrenaline of the pre-ritual was gone, the light overhead flickering as the atmosphere in the room began to shift with Terzo's mood. You could see the trouble brewing behind his blue-green eye, the concern he tried so desperately to hide. To someone who didn't know the middle Emeritus brother, they might have mistaken his expression was one of annoyance, but many nights spent in close proximity led you to the truth in his character, the mysterious front man.
"Papa, does something worry you?"
You knew the answer already, but you could see the way the muscles in Terzo's shoulders tensed when you stepped closer. Compared to his brothers, he was kind and comforting, but he was still the devil's son. He was flighty, prone to acting on impulse to avoid situations he got himself into. You wondered if he would flee now, uncomfortable in the solitude of the dressing room.
"For just a moment," He said, voice soft and his eyes flickered up to meet yours, "let me speak."
You waited behind him patiently, feeling the nerves wash over you as he turned away from the mirror, slowly stalking towards you, muscles shifting beneath the material of his stage costume. His gloved hands grasped yours, the white silk soft against your palms as he rubbed comforting circles against the back of your hand.
"When we get back to the Ministry, I need you to do a favor for Papa, ey? It is very important," Terzo's eyes were pinned on yours, hands gripping yours a bit firmer as his lips titled down in a slight frown.
"There is something I need you to keep safe for me," His hands released yours, one slipping into your hair to cradle the back of your head. "A wooden box in the chapel, beneath the floorboards by the altar. Imperator cannot have it, nor the Cardinal, or Nihil. I need you to keep this secret for me, Sorella."
"Of course, Papa."
Your response was breathless as he pressed soft kisses against your exposed throat, lips trembling but not enough to draw attention. You could feel his staggered breath against your throat and foolishly mistook it for lust as Terzo pulled your body against his, his nose buried in your hair.
"There is someone else with the key, but promise me until the time comes, you'll keep it safe, okay?"
He kissed you that night as if he was going to be the last time he ever would - mostly, because it was. You didn't realize it at the time, how rapidly your lover was being ripped from your arms. When he took the stage that night as Papa Emeritus the Third, you hadn't expected him to leave it Terzo, yanked from his pillar by the ministry and whisked away without so much as a goodbye. In the rush of confusion and chaos, you hadn't realized Nihil had taken the stage, too busy chasing the clergymen through the maze of twisting concert hallways.
It was too late, however. Terzo knew that - but you didn't. The moment he stepped onto the stage it was over, perhaps even before that. From that point on, the sun never shined as brightly, nor felt as warm against your skin. The flowers did not bloom so brightly or as long, and the leaves from the tree shriveled fast as winter came early. Papa Emeritus the Third was beheaded in the night, and his elder brothers followed him to the grave immediately afterwards.
A new era had come upon the ministry and with it, and usurper.
Pale light washed through the elegant stained-glass windows of the ministry, casting a mirage of muted colors across the cold stone floors and up the engraved walls. The morning was quiet as the cold December chill seeped through the walls, the clock on the wall ahead of you displaying the time as 7:58 AM. It was only a short walk to the chapel from your small room, so you weren’t worried about being late as you stepped out into the hallway. You quickly made sure your habit was in place, glancing over your shoulder as you grew weary of Sister’s Imperator’s presence. Or, more precisely – the lack of it.
You were used to her lurking in the hallways on the mornings of sermons, ready to punish any sibling that happened to stumble out of bed late. She seemed particularly keen on catching you, however. It seemed impossible to evade her watchful eye. Imperator had always been a bit of a pain in the ass, but since Copia had taken over as Papa Emeritus, she seemed to gain delight in being allowed to punish as she pleased. All of your siblings knew that it didn’t matter what she didn’t – Papa would forgive her. He always did.
On a day such as this one, however, her disappearance was unnerving. It was a Hunter’s Moon tonight; therefore, the morning’s sermon would be a very important one. There was no doubt in your mind that Papa would choose a prime mover, a title you’d once respected and coveted. The very idea of being chosen as his prime mover, however, left you slowing in your pace as you approached the chapel.
It was not that you had issues with Copia – in fact, since ascending the papacy, you’ve found him more tolerable. His newfound confidence and time on tour had refined him into a man more benefiting to lead the ministry. The siblings had come to love him, and the word of Ghost was reaching a broader audience than it ever had. Truly, he was a good Papa, but the idea of pledging yourself to him eternally left you with a sense of persistent unease.
It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, a nagging headache that wouldn’t go away. You were careful to avoid spending too much time in the light of Copia, weary of drawing his attention. He knew that you had pledged yourself to his predecessor, you could tell by the way he looked at you with an expression of pity. No, he would not take you as his prime mover. Besides, it was in poor taste to take the prime mover of a predecessor, and Copia was a man much concerned with his reputation.
You forced yourself onward, pushing the thought of prime movers and the past away from your mind as you entered the chapel. Many of your siblings were already sitting, chatting quietly to themselves. There was a small spot in the second to last row open, and you quickly scooted in, scanning the crowd for any sign of Imperator, who might have caught you sneaking in. Yet, among the crowd of habits and vestments, you don’t find her familiar form. More alarming, even Nihil seems to scan the crowd with a distant expression of worry as he sits next to the altar, oxygen tank rattling noisily.
You looked at the sibling beside you, a newly confirmed sister who seemed to beam in the dim candlelight, gripping the edges of the dark bench excitedly as she extended her neck to gaze above the sea of heads.
“Excuse me, Sister,” You asked, voice quiet and almost lost in the conversations around you.
The girl looked, bright eyes filled with curiosity as she smiled, “Yeah?”
“Have you seen Imperator this morning? It was strange not to see her in the hallways on the way here.”
The sister looked into the distance, mouth parting as she thought quietly. You couldn’t recall ever meeting the sibling before, but you were sure you’d seen her a handful of times in passing. She’d come back with Papa after the Imperatour, and though it had sent Imperator into a fit for several hours, she’d been allowed to stay and as far as you knew, had spent the time laying low. Papa seemed relatively indifferent towards her as he was you, but she seemed excited to see him.
“I don’t think I have,” She said after a moment, returning her eyes to yours, “maybe she’s out right now.”
It seemed too good to be true to imagine that Imperator would leave you alone after so long of breathing down your neck, but you had little time to ask the sister more as Papa stepped up to the stone altar, the energy in the chapel steadily rising.
“Sathanas, isn’t he beautiful, Sister,” She whispered from beside you.
You looked upon the face of Papa Emeritus the Fourth and tried to find something beautiful amongst the painted features. Sure, it was there, yet every man seemed so dull in comparison to Terzo, who wore his age with confidence and spoke with elegance and determination in every word. Perhaps to some Copia’s endearing nature was charming or beautiful, but to you it was nothing more than awkward.
Even as Papa, you couldn’t help but see the Cardinal who used to ride around the hallways on a tricycle. Whatever had happened to him in the wake of the tour, however, changed him in a way that made him almost unrecognizable. He seemed to shape shift with his ascension, shedding the persona of the cardinal and stepping into a new one.
“Long Live Papa Emeritus.”
The chant rang heavily in the smokey chapel as incense filled the room. The morning light was filling the room with a dreamlike wash of color as Copia stepped behind the altar, pausing briefly to gaze upon the stone statue of the Unholy One. There was a pleasant buzzing that seemed to run along the floor, the result of the upcoming hunter’s moon. Everything was stronger, magic more potent and every ritual ten times deadlier. It was both a night of celebration and one to fear, for an unguarded sibling could fall prey to an attack by the ghouls.
In a place where sin was celebrated and often encouraged, there had to be some sort of structure that kept people from doing whatever they wanted. At the start of Secondo’s reign, he’d made it clear that sin was encouraged so long as it wasn’t hurting anyone (at least without their consent). On a night such as a hunter’s moon, however, all bets were off as the ghoul’s became something more animalistic and dangerous.
It was not a night to be running around alone in the abbey. There were precautions in place, curfews carefully placed yet loosely followed. There would be no help, either. Tonight, Papa would take part in his own rituals with his prime mover, oblivious to the chaos that might erupt around him. Without Imperator either, you couldn’t help but gulp nervously as Copia began his sermon.
The haze of grief had made the last few months feel like sleepwalking. You stood in the midst of the fall without remembering the summer, or the spring. How long had it been since you were conscious of your day, took delight in the little things that once fascinated you, since you walked in Primo’s gardens and felt the warm sunshine against your cool skin? Life before felt so far away now; it seemed as though you only blinked and suddenly Copia had become Papa, and Terzo was entered into the catacombs beneath the ministry.
There was once a time you were permitted to lounge beside his tomb, but Imperator grew impatient and Copia, pliant as ever, had sternly yet softly asked you not to spend any more time in the catacombs. After a few weeks, you’d noticed the entrance to the third Emeritus’ brother’s tomb had been sealed with several padlocks. The message had been sent loud and clear, but it didn’t stop your longing, nor the festering rot that had begun to take hold in your gut.
In your sunless world you were wilting like a flower, crumbling at the seams as fresh roots tried pathetically to take hold of the new soil. There were no goodbyes, no grandiose ceremonies or period of mourning. It was true, you didn’t really take issue with Copia, but you found yourself locked in a persistent bitterness towards him that seemed to swell with each passing day. He might not have swung the sword that beheaded Terzo or killed the other brothers, but you held suspicions that he knew, or was at least slightly complicit.
It was a common rumor amongst the siblings around the ministry. Gossip was a commodity during the cold weather, the rapidly chilling air forcing you all inside. Cabin fever was inevitable, and every year the same rumors seemed to roll back around just as the seasons did. They ranged from harmless – such as one you’d heard last year about Primo tending to a secret flower garden, or that Secondo had a secret interest in romance novels (but if you ever asked, he would have denied it, or said that he was too busy to read.
Then, there were the darker ones, passed in hushed voices at cramped tables during lunch. They always left you looking over your shoulder as you left, paranoid of silly gossip. You’d heard at least a dozen times that the ghouls ate people – siblings that crossed them, or naïve newcomers who did not know, or that siblings who misbehaved enough were used as sacrifices. There was one, however, that ignited a fire in your body so intense it was though every ounce of your blood had reached a boiling point.
You first heard it last winter. A fierce snowstorm had kept you in for almost three weeks at that point, and even Imperator seemed to grow antsy with claustrophobia. The large ministry had seemed to shrink during your isolation, and there was hardly a moment of silence to be found amongst the many hallways. The sun had set hours ago, the night young as you gathered around a small fire in a common area with three other Sisters. You’d spent the last hour trading stories of various excursions with other siblings, the ghouls, and of course, Papa.
You tried not to grimace when they spoke in detail of Copia’s prowess, thankful for the inclusion in the late-night chat and desperate for the company. It wasn’t that you particularly enjoyed being around others, but you did miss the companionship. It was relaxing, a moment of respite amid a long winter. It wasn’t longer after that the conversation fell short, a brief moment of silence passing between the three of you before one of the girls, Catherine, spoke.
Her voice was soft as she stared at the crackling fire, light hair almost amber in the orange glow as her dark eyes watched the open flame dance.
“I heard this in the hallways, when I was helping Imperator clean her office late one evening,” She began, her voice wavering as she glanced over at you, “it was some of Terzo’s ghouls. I haven’t seen much of them these days, so I was surprised.”
You’d perked up at the mention of Terzo, your abrupt movement noticed by the other sisters as they casted a swift glance in your direction. It was true, since Terzo’s death that many of his ghouls had returned to hell, choosing to leave rather than follow Copia. Some had stayed, taking new names with pride despite joyously tormenting the cardinal just months prior.
“One of them said it was Copia who ordered the deaths of the previous Papas.”
“Imperator would never allow that,” One of the other sister’s spoke, her voice riddled with disbelief.
“No, not if it didn’t benefit her.”
Tense silence fell on the room as you all came to a mutual conclusion. At first the notion that the quiet cardinal could somehow be a murderer seemed impossible, but the Imperator – you’d never been able to quite figure her out. You could admit that she was motivated her own wants, but did her loyalty to Nihil keep her murdering his son, if it somehow helped her?
Your eyes found Copia’s, his intense gazed settle intently on you as he finished his sermon. You watched them narrow beneath his face paint, confusion flashing briefly on his features before returning to neutrality, returning to his spot behind the altar.
“It is an important night, my children. He has gifted us a beautiful moon, go forth into the evening and celebrate in sin. We shall bring about a new era to this ministry, and to this world, so it his will.”
Around you, siblings begin to stand as the chatter returns, the mass concluded. You quickly tried to emerge yourself into the crowd, desperate to escape Copia’s watchful eyes as they followed you. It was though he had sensed your thoughts from across the chapel, your stomach twisting as siblings crowded around the exit. You couldn’t escape him fast enough, the echo of his footsteps followed by the excited murmurs sending your heart into a frenzy.
“Sister Trinity,” Copia’s smooth voice glided across the crowded like the wind did, sweeping over the chaos and capturing the attention of the majority of the crowd.
It was the moment people had been waiting for – his chosen prime mover. There’s a sigh of disappointment amongst some of the other siblings as the chosen sister stepped forward, her face bright and smile wide as she approached Papa. His attention shifted to her, eyes finally leaving yours. You took advantage of the distracted bodies around you, slipping between them and out into the nearly empty hallways outside the chapel. The moment you crossed the threshold it was hold as though a weight lifted from your chest, and you heaved in a deep breath, sucking the air in through your nose and holding it for a moment, willing your racing heart to slow.
You were thankful, at least, since Copia’s selection of a prime mover meant he had less time to worry about you. You weren’t used to being watched so intently by him, having grown used to the subtle coldness you attributed to your relationship with the youngest brother. Feeling his eyes on you throughout the sermon only heightened the unease you felt when you first stepped out of your room.
Against your better judgement, you let yourself slip back into thought, heading back towards your room to prepare for your duties. The sun had risen higher in the sky, the colors of the stained glass brighter against the ministry floor as you pondered the worst. You were prone to overthinking, which Terzo had tried desperately to free you of. Even his kindest words and softest touches could not drive out the worry that had been steadily nagging at you.
It'd been years since he left you now, and you haven’t gotten any closer to figuring out what he meant, or why he wanted you to protect that old box so badly. You’d found it one evening after Copia had left for tour, the Imperator away to see the cardinal off at the start of the tour. You’d taken advantage of the solitude and slipped into the chapel late one night, quickly locating the loose floorboard.
It was locked and, just as his tomb, presumably enchanted with magic to keep the wrong person from trying to pry it open. It was clear to you upon first looking at it that it wasn’t something you were going to be open, so you quickly replaced the floorboard and cradled the box in your arms in a blanket as you returned to your room. For a while, the secrets of it had enchanted you, allowing the hope of opening it one day to motivate you in the days following his death.
As the months passed on, you’d steadily shoved it into the back of your mind, nestling it safely beneath the floorboards under your bed. Every sibling had their own hiding place, most known to the Imperator but she’d foolishly believed she found your ages ago. Not even your closest friends knew about the box, quietly under your floor. Terzo trusted you to keep it safe, specifically from Copia, Imperator, and Nihil. What it contained that he wanted to hide from them so badly was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered why he had not trusted such a task to one of his ghouls, who had followed him since the day he became Papa. You never had time to ask him, of course, before he died.
You entered your room and immediately crawled under the bed to retrieve the item, a thin layer of dust and dirt covering the surface that you quickly brushed away. There was a barely noticeable vibration coming from it, as if coming to life in the warmth of your palms. It was the only thing you truly had left of him, the only thing that Copia did not know about.
You’ve kept it safe all this time, but the wait was starting to weigh in you, hope rapidly dwindling as you came upon another arduous winter. What other option was there, however?
#papa emeritus x reader#papa emeritus#papa emeritus iii x reader#terzo x reader#ghost b.c#ghost band#ghost x reader#papa emeritus iv#papa emeritus iv x reader#terzo smut#papa emeritus smut#eventual mary goore#he's coming i promise#writing#papa emeritus/reader#papa emeritus iii/reader#papa emeritus iv/reader#terzo/reader#cardinal copia#cardinal copia x reader#cardinal copia smut
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Somewhere deep within my gay little brain told me that these fuckers are similar and I don't know why I associate them with eachother.
#at least i havent managed to connect either of them with homestuck yet#it will happen eventually#johnny the homicidal maniac#mary goore#ghost bc#devi d#jthm nny#nny#jthm
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~~ Read my works on Archive of Our Own ~~
5/4/24: Decided to attempt Mushy May this month! And just to make it extra difficult on myself I'm going to have each prompt take place in my Tales From Lucifer's Hollow au xD. I'm still working through those kiss prompts I got (along with everything else). I hope everyone enjoys the new chapter of The Cardinal's Bride 💙💙
new fics:
Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow ~ start here ~ or read on Ao3
Little Thief (secondo x f!reader, cowboy au, nsfw)
The Cardinal's Bride, Chapter 13: And You Can Hold Me (copia x f!reader, cowboy au, nsfw)
A Nap With The Captain (copia x gn!reader, fluff)
Napping in the Clouds (young copia, angst and fluff)
A Kiss Goodnight (copia x gn!reader, a sweet kiss, nsfw)
Peanuts and Cracker Jacks (secondo x f!reader, ghaseball, nsfw)
Suggestions (copia x swiss, a very thorough kiss, nsfw)
ongoing series:
Tales From Lucifer's Hollow (copia x aether, mountain x rain, swiss x phantom/aeon, fluff, eventual smut)
An au series set in the small town of Lucifer's Hollow. A look at the lives of the humans and ghouls that live there. There are just snippets so far but I've linked them below or you can search the tag: tales from lucifer's hollow.
Mr. November (copia x aether) snippets so far: here and here
A Petal For Your Thoughts (mountain x rain) snippets so far: here, here, here, here, here
Sweets and Treats (swiss x phantom/aeon) snippets so far: here and here
Naps With Copia - series masterpost (copia x gn!reader, fluff, fluff and fluff, sfw)
A series of stand alone stories featuring soft, fluffy naps with Copia and gender neutral readers. The specific "Copia" will be listed by each story.
The Cardinal's Bride (copia x f!reader, cowboy au, angst, smut)
latest chapter: 13 / series masterpost
After being forced into a marriage with Mr. Saltarian by your father you are sent west to his estate in Nevada. Along the way you end up meeting one of the cowboys you have always fantasized about...
Copia on ICE! (copia x f!reader, winter olympics au, angst, fluff, smut)
Chapters: 1 / series masterpost
At what would probably be your final Winter Olympics you needed to focus on realizing your dream of winning gold. You definitely didn't need to start a whirlwind romance with world famous speed skater Copia Emeritus…
Clockwork Hearts (copia x f!reader, steampunk au, fluff, adventure, smut)
A tale of adventure and alchemy in a steampunk world. You have to join forces with Captain Copia on his airship, The Impera, in order to save your city.
Capitano Copia (copia x f!reader, tease for main story, smug copia)
Clockwork Friends (f!reader, fluff)
Building A Family (young copia, fluff)
Napping in the Clouds (young copia, angst and fluff)
A Nap With The Captain (copia x gn!reader, fluff)
The Repugnant (mary goore x f!reader, pirate au, horror, adventure, smut)
Chapters: 1 / series masterpost
After becoming too curious about seeing the pirate ship The Repugnant you end up captured and in the clutches of the feared pirate Captain Mary Goore...
my other fics:
Pancake Breakfast (gn!reader, domestic fluff, sfw)
Happy Lasagna Day (f!reader, silly birthday smut)
Papas Taking Care of a Sick Reader (gn!reader, fluff, sfw)
Care Package (gn!reader, sick copia, fluff, sfw)
In His Name (gn!reader, filthy smut)
I Love You, I Like You (gn!reader, sweet and caring copia, sfw)
Invisible Touch (f!reader, phone sex)
Ring Ring (f!reader, phone sex then closet sex)
Don't Go (gn!reader, brief angry copia, angst, fluff)
Smudge (gn!reader, silly copia, fluff, sfw)
Feeling Blah (gn!reader, fluff, sfw)
Them Rats (gn!reader, rat dad copia, fluff, sfw)
Little Hands (violence, horror)
A Lil Somethin' Somethin' (f!reader, sex toys, smut, car sex)
Play Ball (f!reader, copia in his ghaseball uniform, smut)
Best Folk Album (copia's ghouls are just trying to help, fluff, sfw)
Copia Is Terrible At Telling Scary Stories - chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 (gn!reader, fluff, sfw)
The Vampire's Bride (f!reader, vampire cowboy au, smut)
Ratte Art (gn!reader, coffee shop au, fluff, sfw)
Rainy Kisses (gn!reader, kisses in the rain)
Yay Satan Day (f!reader, smug copia, desk sex)
His Dark Song - chapters: 1 (f!reader, occult au, future smut)
Satan's Toy Box (gn!reader, fluff)
A Man After Midnight (f!reader, copia doing a strip tease, fluff, smut)
Falling (f!reader, fluff, smut)
The Late Assistant (f!reader, fluff, tiny bit of smut)
The Pants (gn!reader, fluff, sfw)
No, Cardinal (gn!reader, cock warming)
Shooting His Shot (terzo x omega, winter olympics au, fluff)
A Gift Of Bones (terzo x omega, zombie!terzo, death, resurrection)
The Morningstar (f!reader, cowboy au, smut)
The Perfect Afternoon - sequel to One Dance (f!reader, regency au, fluff)
One Dance (f!reader, regency au, fluff)
Please, Cardinal (f!reader, cardinal terzo, loss of virginity, smut)
Satan's Dick (gn!reader, insufferable terzo)
Yes, Cardinal (f!reader, cardinal terzo, desk sex)
My Husband is Now Bones (terzo x omega, zombie au, death, resurrection)
Promises (f!reader, smut)
140 Shades of Terzo - series masterpost (prompt fills from a list of 140 smut prompts featuring terzo)
The Sexy Adventures of Cardinal Terzo - series masterpost (cardinal terzo and his sexy adventures around the abbey)
A Nap With Secondo (secondo x gn!reader, fluff)
His Little Ghuleh (secondo x aurora, rough bj, scratching, size kink)
Another Round (f!reader, messy ritual sex, overstimulation)
Breakfast in Bed (f!reader, vampire secondo, blood, smut)
Distraction (f!reader, aftermath of teasing papa)
A Single Kiss (gn!reader, fluff, sfw)
Shut Up (gn!reader, secondo is bad with emotions, fluff, sfw)
Sap (gn!reader, forced separation for ritual prep, fluff)
Sliding Home (f!reader, secondo in a ghaseball uniform, desk sex)
And I'm Yours (f!reader, jealous secondo, ritual sex)
Drenched (f!reader, overstimulation, little breeding kink)
Payback (f!reader, messy desk sex)
What You See (gn!reader, old man body worship)
Nema (f!reader, ritual sex)
Dumbasses (cardinal primo deals with a young terzo and copia, sfw)
Time's Up (primo comes to terms with his time as papa, sfw)
The Repugnant - chapters: 1 (f!reader, pirate au, horror, adventure, smut)
Napping With An Outlaw (gn!reader, cowboy au, injured mary, fluff, sfw)
Giddy Up (gn!reader, pony play)
#oakie's writing#the band ghost fanfiction#ghost band fanfic#copia x reader#terzo x reader#secondo x reader#primo x reader#mary goore x reader
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The yandere Mary Goore got me thinking about yandere Sodo...
Yandere Sodo headcanons
CW: slight, very brief gore. very vague implication of necrophilia if you read too much into it. yandere typical bullshit.
He/him pronouns used for Sodo.
Sodo is a very calm person. Usually.
Until something ends up triggering him and leading him to snap into the angry version of himself that most know him for.
Keep that in mind. It could save your life.
He doesn't really care if you're pretending to love him back.
He's happy as long as you're in his arms. As long as you don't run away or fight back and just pretend to love him, he's fine.
He's a gentleman, really! He'll be sweet to you, he'll bring you flowers and he'll be there for you. He'll be the best boyfriend you could've ever asked for.
He'll even allow your first few attempts to get away from him. He knows it can be weird or scary to have him mate you all of a sudden, but it's okay, you'll be fine. It's just a little bite on your neck, you can take it, can't you?
It's just a bitemark. You'll be okay. He loves you so much.
However, as much as he loves you, he can and will eventually lose patience with you.
He's given you time and you're still being difficult? Have you learned nothing?
Sodo can be really angry. Furious, even.
You don't want him to get annoyed and snap at you, right?
Especially since he doesn't really control himself if he's really angry.
You can't blame him if he finally snaps and bites your pretty neck again...
Ripping your throat out with his teeth.
After all, you can't get out of his embrace if you're dead, now can you?
~
Written by Nosferatu.
Taglist: @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @dio-niisio @ethereal-maniac @mybotanicaldemise @igodownjustlikeholymary @natoncesaid @greenbirdtrash @bloodmoon-bites
#ask#anon#ghost band#ghost bc#ghost#ghost band x reader#ghost bc x reader#ghost x reader#sodomizer ghoul#sodomizer#sodo ghoul#sodo#sodomizer ghoul x reader#sodomizer x reader#sodo ghoul x reader#sodo x reader#nameless ghoul#nameless ghouls#nameless ghoul x reader#nameless ghouls x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere headcanons
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Oh pleeeeease write more Mary stuff!!!
Love the way you write him
The green fairy ist just 🤌🏻
Have some Goore!
“I always get stuck with the fuckin’ short straw, man.” Mary throws his suitcase onto the full sized bed and it springs open, unleashing a week's worth of dirty laundry onto the floor. He groans again, loudly, bending over with an exaggerated motion to pick up the laundry. You can't help a small tinkle of laughter that slips past your lips and you clap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to contain it. Mary whips over to look at you, one finger outstretched. “And you, Miss-I've-never-even-touched-myself-because-I'm-so-godly, can keep your hands to yourself tonight.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” you say with your hands held up, backing away slowly. “My only intention is to sleep. And don’t act like it’s my fuckin’ fault that the hotel has no doubles right now.” Toeing your way out of your shoes and kicking them over to the wall by the television, you and Mary lock eyes.
The rest of the band, happily sequestered in their own rooms, are oblivious to the quiet love song unfolding between the two of you.
By the time you lay down to go to sleep, both of you feel like static, bodies humming in a way that could only be described as the buzzing of an amplifier cable. You roll onto your side, facing away from him in a demure attempt at vanity. Wearing only a t-shirt and panties to bed is bold, but you didn’t pack any alternatives, expecting to be sleeping alone for the trip. The bed dips behind you as Mary lays down carefully, stretching himself out inch by inch in a blatant attempt to be respectful.
“Just lay down, Goore. It’s a bed, not a hot tub.”
“Except that I’m gonna be in a hot tub if I fuck up, here.” Mary grumbles some more to himself as he settles down, eventually laying on his back and blowing out a pent up huff of frustration.
“What.”
“I can’t sleep on my back.” His tone is slightly petulant and you can’t help but giggle a little.
“Then roll over?” you suggest, with an accompanying eye roll.
“I… can’t sleep on my tummy, either.”
“Your tummy?” This time there’s a definite twinge of mockery in your voice. Mary laughs a little at himself and you find your cheeks growing pink— THE Mary Goore, laying next to you and chuckling? It’s enough to affect your own tummy.
“Yeah, my tummy. I can only sleep on my side… on my right side.”
The room seems to shrink with this admission, the air between you two thick with an unspoken tension. There's an electricity in the atmosphere, like the charged moments before a thunderstorm breaks. Mary's admission, so innocuous and yet so intimate, draws you closer into his orbit, the space in the bed suddenly feeling too vast.
“Well, then,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, “roll onto your right side.” The words hang in the air, a challenge, an invitation.
He hesitates for a moment, his silhouette outlined by the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Then, slowly, he shifts, turning onto his right side, facing your back. You feel the movement of the mattress, the subtle shift in weight as he settles into a more comfortable position. The moment he stops moving, the room falls silent again, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing.
The silence stretches on, a canvas for the thoughts racing through your mind. You're acutely aware of his presence just inches away, a warmth radiating off him that you can almost feel against your skin. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. Thoughts of his hand landing on your side and skating down to the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side and then-
The bed dips slightly as Mary moves again, and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. It's a soft, tentative touch, but it sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. You're frozen, caught between the desire to turn around and the fear of what might happen if you do. His body beside yours feels like a live wire, and you’re afraid of making too big of a spark.
“I’m trying not to make this weird,” he mutters, almost to himself. His voice is a low rumble, filled with a restraint that you know is costing him. Mary attempts a laugh but it’s weak, and he readjusts himself on his pillow, trying to settle in and be comfortable.
“You’re not making it weird,” you whisper back, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice. There's a pause, and then you feel him inch closer, the gap between you narrowing until there's barely any space left. His breath is steady, a calming contrast to the rapid beat of your heart. You want to turn around, to face him, but something holds you back—a mixture of fear and anticipation.
“Am I weird now?” he asks quietly as his hand comes to rest on your waist. There’s no agenda there, no pressure. A silent acceptance of an odd situation.
“Never.”
“Mm.. how about now?” Mary leans closer, pressing his slightly chapped lips to the nape of your neck and kissing you softly. “Or now?” His arm slides across your form until it’s tucked against your tummy, pulling you gently into his grasp. “I need to hold something to sleep.”
“Mm, I see. Am I good body pillow, then?” You intend for it to be a joke, but the sudden heavy breathing behind you and the rasped response further shrink the room.
“Better.” Your heart skips a beat at his words. It's a confession, raw and unguarded. Slowly, you turn, facing him. In the dim light, his eyes are deep pools of emotion, reflecting something you've felt but never dared to acknowledge.
The space between you is now nonexistent, your faces just inches apart. You can see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, a hint of the mischief that first drew you to him. The desire in the room is palpable, a tangible force that wraps around you both.
“Mary,” you start, but the words trail off. What do you say in a moment like this?
He responds not with words, but with action, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours, gentle at first, then with a growing urgency. The kiss is a storm, a clash of emotions that has been building since the moment you entered the room. It's fear, it's longing, it's the thrill of something forbidden and the comfort of something deeply desired.
Mary’s teeth slip across your lower lip and you gasp, deepening the kiss with one arm slung across his shoulders. He smiles into the kiss, nipping at your lips with a grin before pressing kiss after kiss to your cheeks. When he buries his face in your neck, kissing and nipping as he goes, you hear him say something muffled against your skin.
“What?” you ask, tugging at his hair gently until he comes up for air from the space between your breasts.
“Am I weird now?”
#fanfiction#the band ghost fanfiction#ghost bc fanfic#lorraine writes#reader x mary goore#mary goore
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𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Mary has certain rules you should both stick to for your relationship to work. However, rules are made to be broken and Mary hasn't always played by the rules.
𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Sex turning into making love
𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Mary Goore x AFAB!Reader
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Smut (18+ only, MINORS DNI), PiV unprotected sex (use protection yall!!), Mary becoming emotional, crying during sex, love confessions, rough sex turning into slow love making. The word cunt is used to refer to reader's genitals once.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1090 words.
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 Made myself feel all mushy and sappy writing this, damn. This fic has been v briefly proofread because we don't proofread here, we die like Terzo I mean what.
𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 𝐓𝐢𝐩 𝐉𝐚𝐫
There are rules Mary has in place for your relationship. Rules that he insists you both should stick to for things to go smoothly with no complications. You confine your sexual relations to two days a week, you go on a date every weekend to bond away from intimate activities, but the most important rule (to Mary at least)?
No eye contact during sex.
It’s not that they don’t want to see you. They’ve memorised the way your mouth drops open, and how ecstasy morphs your features when they bring you to completion from the many times they’ve watched your face during sex. They just don’t want things to get messy. Your relationship works so well because you’re not privy to how truly vulnerable and powerless they’ll feel under your gaze if your eyes meet in the throes of carnal passion. It works because they’re in control, they set the pace, and you respect their boundaries and needs without prying. And it works because you’re happy to let them take the lead and offer you pleasure and companionship without feelings muddying everything. They’re not sure they could handle it if you realised how deeply they cared for you beyond friendship and sex. The rejection would crush them.
Worries about you ending your relationship are far form his mind right now, however. Instead, he’s preoccupied with the feeling of your walls squeezing him as he pistons his cock in and out of you, skin slapping on skin mingling with the squelching of your arousal. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, heels of your feet digging into his ass, and your nails claw at his back as he moans into your neck. He can feel himself crawling closer to climax each time his pelvis meets yours, but there’s another feeling too. Something unfamiliar. He tries to dismiss it as getting caught up in the moment but he’s not sure that’s what it is. He can’t pin it down to pick it apart and analyse what it is, so lost in the way you cling to one another.
“Fuck, Mary, stop. Stop!”
Your demand snaps them out of their thoughts immediately, pulling out of you and removing their face from your neck to look at you with wide, panicked eyes.
“Did I hurt you? Shit, I didn’t mean to.”
You shake your head and offer them a comforting smile as you cup their face in both hands. “Let’s just… go slow, yeah? I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world.”
Mary blinks. It’s the first time you’ve asked them for something like this. Usually, you’re content to let them drag orgasm after orgasm out of you and treat you as rough as they need to. They’re not accustomed to you asking for something different and what you want from them feels scarily close to something they’ve never allowed themselves to experience with you or with anyone else.
“Let me take care of you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as they freeze, uncertain.
Maybe it’s the heat of the moment, maybe it’s that unidentifiable feeling, but Mary nods and allows you to reach down and guide them back inside your cunt. They gasp when you pull them so that you’re laying side by side and throw your leg over their hip to pull them closer.
“Is this okay?” you ask. Neither of you move as you wait for their answer.
Eventually, he nods. “This is good. Should I… should I move?”
“Don’t forget to take it slow.”
With another nod, Mary rocks his hips against yours and slides in and out of your wet heat. His thrusts are leisurely but deep, both of you moving in tandem and pulling one another so close that there’s no space left between your bodies. Mary’s nose bumps against yours and he reaches up to brush his jet black hair out of his face, eyes accidentally meeting yours.
The moment he catches your gaze, it’s like something snaps into place in his brain. Things start to make sense and for once he’s not terrified of what might happen if he lets down his walls for you. The fear of losing you and what you both share dissipates in that moment as you smile reassuringly and your foreheads touch. Mary’s arms scramble to wrap around your lower back and he rolls so that you’re on top of him. You continue to roll your hips against him, and he feels himself hit deeper within you as you move your legs so that you’re straddling his hips but with your torso still resting on top of his. One of his hands reaches up hesitantly to caress your cheek and he realises that he’s shaking.
“Shh, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” You wipe away a tear that had started to trickle down their face and seal your lips over his once more. It’s a kiss that feels more tender and emotional than others you’ve shared. It feels like what Mary thought first kisses were supposed to feel like. It makes their chest swell and a fuzzy warmth flood their body and their eyes flutter closed as you both lose yourselves in one another. The world beyond their bedroom, beyond even their apartment, may well not exist.
Mary doesn’t know how what comes over them, but when they finally break the kiss their stare into your eyes once more. The way you smile adoringly, doing the majority of the work and trailing delicate fingers over their skin and through their hair, makes their breath hitch. Their lips part in preparation to say something but you press a finger to their lips and gently shush them.
“You don’t need to say it. I love you too.”
I love you too.
Fresh tears spill down their face as they finally climax, gasping as their cock kicks and they paint your insides. A few seconds later and your walls flutter and convulse around them, milking them as you let out a soft moan. Your movements slow gradually, both of you coming down from your climaxes after a few minutes, and you place a chaste kiss on their lips.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, easing you off his softening dick and placing you on the mattress beside him before immediately snuggling up to you. “I love you so much.”
The last thing he hears as he starts to drift into a peaceful sleep is your murmuring voice as you hold him close.
“I love you more.”
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The King
Part One: The Crush (ao3)
vampireSecondo x fem Reader // Papa Emeritus II x fem Reader
Summary: You thought accounting would lead to a boring life. Then you started working for Mr. Emeritus.
tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, horror themes, vampire violence, (eventual) smut, blood, more tags on ao3, 7k words
Part Two in the Suck Club Series. Read Part One - The Count here
Part One: The Crush
When you live somewhere long enough, you become blind to the little quirks of a place. Eventually, you start to ignore the bad news to maintain your own sanity. It wasn’t like the city was overrun with crime or anything, but the missing posters were an uncomfortable constant decoration on utility poles and shop windows. You kept pepper spray on your keychain and looked over your shoulder in the dark just like anyone else would, but you never truly felt unsafe.
And if you did, Idolatry was a fortress you could run to.
It wasn’t exactly the kind of place in which you imagined yourself working. All that black glass and neon light with the constant thrum of loud music and even louder patrons absolutely losing their minds over topless women wasn’t really your scene. But you had bills to pay just like everyone else. When Mr. Emeritus’s assistant, Mary Goore, fired off that email asking about your financial services, you were all too happy to give them a quote. When you saw the salary Mr. Emeritus offered you in return, you had to sit down.
Once you saw the state of things, you understood the numbers. The last accountant had mysteriously disappeared, but unlike the others in the city, he had done so after skimming millions of dollars from the club. He made sure to trash years’ worth of records while trying poorly to cover his tracks, leaving the accounts in a pitiful state for you to clean up. You hoped wherever he was, he was getting sand in his margaritas.
Still, Idolatry was turning a substantial profit and it wasn’t hard to see why. An exclusive, members only Gentlemen’s Club with dues as high as they were had to deliver on everything. And Mr. Emeritus spared no expense when it came to the expectations of his guests. He didn’t hold back when it came to his employees either—you’d seen the payroll.
Mr. Emeritus also didn’t seem to deny himself, dressing exclusively in suits that were tailored to his tall frame with coordinating shoes and expensive watches. He was big, not only physically, but his presence commanded attention every time he entered a room. It was alarming at first, how this well-dressed man could take the air out a space without even trying. You had credited it to the black and white face paint he always wore, the skull shaped mask that failed to disguise his expressions. The harsh lines of it made him appear stoic and serious, no matter the situation, but the longer you were employed the less noticeable the paint became. It was a part of him he put on, like those plush green velvet blazers he loved, but it wasn’t the only thing he was. You suspected without the mask people would still stop and notice him.
And you, you couldn’t help but notice him. He wasn’t the type of man who usually caught your eye—that honor was mainly reserved for scrawny dudes in bands who needed someone to take care of them and pay their rent. A miserable list of complete losers who drained your patience and, thanks to the last asshole, your bank accounts. Mr. Emeritus didn’t need to be reminded to shower and he’d never steal your car to cheat on you with some girl in Florida.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own quirks and faults. There were times you’d seen him in the middle of some impossible feat, like moving full kegs on his own, acts that when caught prompted Mary to nudge him and point out that you were there. Secondo never seemed to pay much attention to the warnings, carrying on with whatever he was doing. It was clear he was strong, probably stronger than you thought, but he also had an odd way of addressing things. When word got around you had just been through a particularly nasty break up, he stopped by your office and casually offered to kill your ex. You laughed nervously at the joke, but he’d delivered it so flatly you almost thought he wasn’t kidding.
Your boss was a little strange, sure, but so was everyone else in the city. If the man wanted to paint a skull on his face every day, who were you to judge? That certainly wasn’t what he was paying you for. You started to like the intimidating air surrounding him and how his gaze often matched his nature, as though he was never solving only one problem at a time. You quickly learned his wit was as sharp as his suits, but he tended to remain soft-spoken while the two of you slowly got to know each other.
Over time you learned he didn’t like to show it, but he cared deeply for the people who worked for him. He’d affectionately named the dancers “the Dolls” and made sure they wanted for nothing while they worked for him. In return, they all called him Bone Daddy, partially in reference to his odd makeup, but mostly because of his constant need to make sure they were all ok. As far as you could tell he wasn’t actually a Daddy to any of them in a sexual or relationship sense. He always arrived and left alone, never spending much time with anyone, not even Mary. None of the Dolls had ever seen his home.
You found it easy to settle in when you started, making fast friends with the Dolls and the bartenders. You mostly saw them in passing, everyone arriving for their shifts by the time you left until you began to realize it was almost impossible to reach Mr. Emeritus during the day. It made sense for him to keep the same odd hours as everyone else, but the state of his finances left you with questions only he could answer. Eventually, you found it easier to shift your own hours to match everyone else in the hopes that you could finally catch him and get the information you needed.
That led to those tiny little moments where you began to hope you’d see him.
A lifetime (or more accurately several lifetimes) living amongst humans, blending seamlessly into their limited little world had made Secondo blind to their odd intricacies. Still, he largely found the people around him endearing and he much preferred this life to the endless solitude his brothers had chosen. Though he guessed Copia had someone now at least. And maybe the Countess could drag his old, dramatic cape-wearing ass into the 21st century.
Secondo had grown used to being surrounded by beautiful, half-naked women. It was a necessary part of the job, to the point he no longer noticed if one of the Dolls was topless while talking to him. It was out of respect, more than anything. The Dolls were people, good people with big hearts and families of their own. Just like with his own brothers, he felt a need to protect the girls from the nasty things in the world, even if it meant he had to become one.
So, when you breezed in wearing jeans and a t-shirt for the first time, his mind went completely blank. It was such a stark contrast to the stuffy 9-to-5 business causal uniform you’d worn in the past. But now you were comfortable enough to dress a little more like yourself, to relax a little. You were still all business of course, asking him something he’d completely missed while you waited for an answer with your hands on your hips.
“Sorry?” he asked, blinking up at you from his desk in a daze.
“The 1099s? Where are your 1099s?” you asked with a nervous smile.
“Oh.” He gestured vaguely to the banged-up filing cabinet in the corner of the office.
You huffed at him, shooting an annoyed glance over your shoulder as you turned away. He pretended not to see the soft smile that graced your face when you thought he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t help but wonder what you looked like when you woke up next to a lover, messy hair and half-smiles hidden behind a pillow or pressed into a bare shoulder. Maybe someday his shoulder. But that would be ridiculous because a delicate little thing like you would be ruined if you got too close to someone him.
It didn’t stop him from noticing things about you, slowly at first as you settled into your role at the club. It wasn’t that you were a messy person. You kept your office in an order that made sense to you, but your desk was often cluttered at the edges with to-go coffees or cheap food that came in plastic wrappers. At first, he thought maybe you were just too busy to get yourself groceries, skating by on whatever until you had the time. It wasn’t the kind of thing he had to concern himself with much; he could eat like a human if he wanted to, but for years now he preferred the simplicity of the kill instead. It never struck him as odd, just increasingly interesting to see what you might do next.
It’s these things he picked up on, elements that made you more of a mystery to him than anyone had ever been. He couldn’t help but watch you, fascinated by any tiny thing you did.
The first time he saw you blush, he felt something he’d been chasing ever since. He hadn’t even meant to, but you were standing outside your office looking up at him, some unanswered question hanging between the two of you. But there, just on the corner of your mouth was the tiniest bit of jam left behind from one of those awful convenience store donuts. You turned seven shades of pink as his thumb gently swiped over your face. He worried he had embarrassed you, but it was the act itself that left you too warm all over.
You weren’t even sure when the crush on your boss started, but you knew it got a million times worse after he wiped that jam from your face. He was tall and handsome, but most of all he was kind to you. Really, you never stood a fucking chance against that combination. But after that day he seemed to pay just a little more attention to you or at least you were more aware of whatever attention he gave you. He liked to tease you, throwing out the occasional odd comment or quip about your habits or coffee intake. It was lighthearted in a way you never expected him to be, not with that emotionless mask he painted on every day.
He would drop into your office from time to time, never saying more than a few words at first. But it began to happen often enough that you were putting more thought into your wardrobe. Nothing too drastic, you weren’t trying to get him to look at you, you just wanted to present a somewhat professional version of yourself who wasn’t intimidated by him or the girls downstairs. The version of you who didn’t have fucking crumbs on her face. It was bullshit of course. All he had to do was lean against your desk with his sleeves rolled up over his forearms and you’d forget every number you’d ever learned.
You wanted to write a love letter to whoever produced his favorite cologne, that slightly sweet yet smoky scent that stayed in your office long after he left. Your last boss smelled like mustard, but Mr. Emeritus smelled expensive and always in the right amount, as though he’d spent a lifetime perfecting his routine. You wondered how long it took him to get dressed every day, how much effort it took to make sure the waistcoat went with the shoes and the watch added to the outfit without distracting. Maybe it was effortless for him, the way some things just seemed to come easily to certain people.
You didn’t assume things were actually easy for him. You saw the hours he put in at the club. You saw the investment he’d made in his business. He knew everything that was going on at any given time. It seemed he was the same way with every facet of his life, picking up on the little details of the world and people around him. He made this wildly obvious the day he stopped by your office with a bag from some fancy bakery and set it in front of you.
“What’s that?” you asked, confused.
“It’s a raspberry chocolate croissant,” he stated flatly.
“Oh, uh, I’m fine. I have a bagel around here somewhere.”
“Now you don’t have to eat that stale bagel from yesterday,” he pointed out and tapped the bag. “They’re good. Trust me.”
“How—thank you.”
He shrugged. “You should have something better than old bread.”
“Like… fresh bread?”
He snorted and quickly covered his mouth, his eyes wide.
“Did you…did you just laugh?”
He shook his head. “That was so bad, tesorino.”
It started well before your stupid joke, but that day he learned just how easy it was to make your face flare pink. A couple of innocent yet slightly suggestive words and you’d be hiding your face behind your hands, complaining with an adorable little groan. But you’d bite back with a comment of your own, never letting him fully get away with it. And he liked that about you. He liked that you weren’t afraid of him like so many others were, even when you probably should have been. Even the Dolls had taken to their silly nickname to make him seem less intimidating, but he knew there was still that underlying fear, that completely human response to being near someone like him.
Apparently, it didn’t bother you at all. The fact was made so clear when you showed up at the annual Idolatry Halloween party with your face painted to match his. It was embarrassing that he didn’t know where to look, but you were barely wearing more than a blazer that was just long enough. But it was so much worse when you walked over to happily show off your costume.
“Look! I’m you!” you yelled over the music, doing a little spin as you presented yourself under the neon green glow of the club.
“Very funny,” he replied, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.
You didn’t seem to notice as you sucked your drink into your straw and grinned at him. “What are you? Some kind of Dracula?”
He never should have taken Copia’s advice on a fucking costume. He looked down at his own ridiculous outfit, some silly Victorian era get-up his brother had talked him into buying years ago. At the time it seemed like it would make a hilarious costume, but maybe a vampire was a little too on the nose.
“Something like that, yeah,” he said and adjusted the frilly cuff of his sleeve.
“Sweet cape,” you added with a smug grin, reaching up to adjust the way it fell over his shoulders.
“Nice dress.”
You smiled up at him. “Thanks! The Dolls helped me.”
“So, this was their idea?”
“No,” you laughed and shook your head. “This seemed like the best way to try to get you to blush. Well, this or showing up naked but let’s be honest, you see naked women all the time.”
He blinked hard at you, that horrible sensation of his face growing warm washing over him. “Y-you—”
“Hey, look at that! It worked,” you cheered and ran off, joining a group of Dolls seated at a nearby table.
Secondo stood there speechless, watching as you shared the tale of your victory with the others. He pretended not to see their heads turn toward him. Pretended he couldn’t see the Dolls whispering behind their hands or flagging Mary down to include them in whatever was happening. He was way too old for this and far too sober.
He crossed the room, stopping momentarily at the bar to request an old fashioned to nurse as the DJ slipped into some bass heavy song. It appeared to please the Dolls and the patrons, several of them climbing to their feet and crowding the makeshift dance floor in front of the main stage. The drink was bitter on his tongue, but the bourbon warmed him despite the ice. He might be dressed like an asshole, but he knew how to throw a good party. Or at least throw one arguably better than Copia and his nuns. He tensed slightly, the glass cracking under the pressure of his grip. He’d let himself get too wrapped up, too distracted by Copia’s nonsense and you, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. What a ridiculous idea it was to even think of you at all. You weren’t afraid of him, but you should have been. It would have been so much easier if you were. He never should have let you get as close as you did.
He looked around the club, noting any unfamiliar faces. It was dangerous for him to get distracted, especially now. Primo still hadn’t said anything about the abbey, but he knew his brother’s recklessness would cause problems for all of them. It was just a matter of when.
It didn’t ease his anxiety to find that Mary was still floating around, whispering with the Dolls instead of checking in with security. That paranoia set in, scratching away at the reasonable parts of himself until only the predator remained. He moved through the club, concentrating hard on appearing calm as he caught Mary by the elbow.
“What’s going on, Mary? Is there something I should know about?” Secondo asked, keeping his voice as low as possible under the music.
Mary raised an eyebrow. “I think you already do, Boss.”
“I don’t have time for games today.”
“The accountant,” Mary said knowingly and downed the rest of their drink.
“What?”
“Ok, maybe you don’t know,” they managed through a dry laugh. “You and the accountant.”
He didn’t mean to. He really, really didn’t mean to, but he scanned the crowd at the mere mention of you, trying to find you in the sea of people moving about. You were easy enough to spot, relaxing against the bar with some ridiculous cocktail and your face made up like his. A smile threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth, quickly replaced by his usual scowl as some idiot dressed like a doctor approached you.
“Uh oh,” Mary sang, staring off in your direction.
“Leave it alone, Mary,” he warned.
“Look Boss, if you ask me—”
“I didn’t,” he snapped.
“Ok then, unsolicited advice: talk to her. If that’s going well, maybe try giving her a gift. Girls like that shit.”
“I’m beginning to understand how you’re still single.”
“Oh yeah, because that couldn’t have anything to do with being blood-bound to a fucking vampire.”
Secondo shot Mary a stern look.
“Relax, old man. No one can hear us. And for the record? My sex life is way more active than yours.”
“How would you even know?”
“I make all your appointments, Boss. Outside of your brothers, you’ve got a pretty small social circle. So maybe you should go talk to her. But if I gotta stand here and keep doing this with you, I’m gonna need another drink.”
Mary kicked off the wall and crossed the room. Sliding a little too easily between you and the idiot, they expertly derailed whatever conversation the guy was trying make. Secondo was all too happy to watch the relief wash over your face, but you turned to look back at him instead. There was a ghost of a smile barely visible under your paint. He couldn’t tell what Mary had said to you, but it couldn’t have been good if you were looking at him like that.
He didn’t stick around to find out.
It wasn’t one of his greatest ideas, but the 25 year old scotch in his office was half empty before he could think of a better one. The cape had shifted to one shoulder, draping him dramatically as he lounged on the velvet chaise. What did Mary even mean anyway? There was no him and anybody, let alone him and the accountant. Maybe he liked your jokes, maybe he liked that perfect shade of pink that washed over your face. And he liked your hair. And your perfume. And that little groan you always made. And your stupid laugh.
But that didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. You were this soft, delicate little thing and he was the stuff of nightmares.
He swore loudly as he dug his phone out of his pocket and hit call before he could change his mind. There was someone he could talk to, the one person who might be able to give him some kind of unbiased answer or advice. He scrubbed at his face as the line rang out, wondering if he really wanted to pay the price for this.
“Fratello!” Copia slurred loudly, the broken sounds of some party happening on the other end. “Mi scusi,” he shouted as the sound fell away.
“Hi Secondo,” the Countess sang into the phone.
Secondo swallowed hard. “Hi. Copia, can I talk to the Countess?”
“You are talking to the Countess,” he replied, followed by an uncontrollable burst of laughter.
Dread started to mix with the scotch in Secondo’s stomach.
“Amore, give me the phone,” the Countess ordered. He could hear Copia trying to argue in the background as the phone rustled between them. After a firmly shouted “no” the Countess returned. “I’m so sorry about him.”
“Is he on something?”
She giggled. “No, no. It’s just someone he ate.”
He sighed heavily. “You two were supposed to behave.”
“Ugh, if this is why you called you can go back to talking to him.”
“Wait, no. I—” Secondo swallowed every ounce of pride he’d ever had. “I think I need your help.”
“Mine? Why?” The sounds drifted further behind her as she moved away from the party. “Are you in trouble, Twos?”
He felt his teeth grind at her stupid nickname. “Everything’s fine. I just have…a human problem.”
“Oh. Kill them. Problem solved.”
“It’s not like that. Why would I need your help with that?”
“What else could it—oh. A human problem,” she repeated sadly. “Do they know about you?”
Secondo sat up and tugged the fastening to the cape apart, letting it fall from his shoulders as he stood. He began to place the length of his office, tracing his unbalanced steps repeatedly as the scotch began to wear him down. “I don’t think she does,” he admitted after a beat. “I mean, generally I try not to make it obvious.”
“She,” she confirmed with a smile in her voice. “You called because you have a crush.”
“I don’t. I just—”
“Copia, get down from there!” the Countess screamed. “I’m so sorry Secondo. I swear I’m never taking him anywhere ever again.”
“Eh, he needs to get out more. He can’t just sit in that castle for the rest of his eternal life.”
“He’s about to make it a lot fucking shorter if he falls off the roof of this frat house.”
“Dolce, look! I’m a gargoyle.”
“Yes, my love. The most handsome gargoyle there ever was. Will you please come down and help me? Twos has a problem.”
Secondo cringed at their conversation, waiting as they went back and forth with each other. He couldn’t comprehend the amount of love the Countess must have had for Copia. To be patient with him even when he was at his worst must have been some superhuman feat. It didn’t make any sense for her to baby the man who killed an entire abbey full of people because they said she couldn’t see him. But what did Secondo know? Maybe that was love.
“Fratello who hurt you?” There was an edge to his brother’s voice, something angry, protective.
“No one hurt him, amore,” the Countess said, trying to soothe him. “So, you don’t have feelings for this girl, and she doesn’t know you’re a vampire, but you still have a problem?”
“Yes?” Secondo confirmed, slightly confused.
“Hmm, is she pretty?”
“What?”
“The girl. Do you find her attractive?”
“Um, I—yeah, I guess I do?”
“And not just, like, her looks, but is she smart? Is she funny?”
“Yes.”
“Do you find yourself going out of your way to see her sometimes?”
His mouth went dry. “Yes.”
“Do you…look forward to seeing her?” she asked gently.
“Yes.”
“Well do you think if you…you know, got it out of your system so to speak—”
“I don’t follow.”
The Countess sighed. “Do you just want to fuck her?”
“No, that’s—no.”
“Secondo, it sounds like you do have a crush on this girl.”
“No, no, no. That can’t be it—”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, Twos.”
“It doesn’t matter if there’s something wrong with it or not. That’s not what’s happening. And even if it was, even if there was a snowballs chance in hell, it would mean nothing, because it’s not happening. It can’t happen.” He was almost yelling now, trying to get the Countess to understand that things between the two of you simply would not work.
“Well, why not?”
“I—look, it just wouldn’t. We’re…different.”
“Uh, I was a fucking nun when I met your brother.”
“Fine. I’m different and she’s…”
“She’s what?”
“An accountant.”
He didn’t hear you come up the hallway in your search for him. He didn’t know that you were just outside his office as he admitted to the Countess exactly who you were. You could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was enough.
“I thought you ate your accountant?” the Countess asked, confused.
“No, that was the last one.”
“Oh. So, you have a new accountant who you don’t have a crush on because if you did it wouldn’t mean anything. And yet you still called me to ask about her? Please tell me you’re connecting the dots here, Twos.”
“Fuck,” he whispered harshly. “Oh, fuck.”
“So, what is it, Twos? What is it about this girl that’s got you all wound up?”
“She’s just…” he trailed off and sighed, a fond smile spreading across his face. “She’s kind of hopeless.”
“Excuse me?” you asked loudly behind him.
Secondo whipped around so fast he nearly fell over. “Countess, I’ll call you back.”
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you spat angrily.
“Wait, tesorino—” he called out, drunkenly tripping over his own feet. He had never seen you so upset, so hurt, not even when told him about the guy who broke your heart. Your words dripped with venom, but you had stayed calm, your pulse steady. Now he could hear it pounding in his ears like an entire drum corps as you stumbled away from him.
“Why? So, you can tell me more about how you really feel about me? Fuck, I came up here to make sure you were ok.” You laughed angrily. “Turns out you’re fine, you’re always fine aren’t you? God, what is it like to be so much better than the rest of us, huh?”
“I-I’m not. I am so much worse than you—”
“Wow. Fuck you.” The curse was barely a whisper, that last little bit of control you had snapping under the weight of it. Tears streamed wet trails down your face, washing away the face paint as it went and dripped black and white splotches onto your chest. It was stupid of you to entertain the idea that he could ever have feelings for you, that maybe tonight you could have told him how you felt and it would be ok. It never occurred to you that there could be someone else—a fucking Countess no less. Some beautiful woman somewhere who understood him better than you ever could and had never once gotten powdered sugar on her clothes.
“No, no, no, wait,” he begged as he chased after you. “That’s not what I meant. I—I’m just…I’m drunk, and you’re drunk, and this is—”
“I’m gonna go. You should call your girlfriend back.”
Secondo felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest. He didn’t know what else to do, couldn’t do anything except watch you leave. He heard the door to the club open, music spilling in as you slipped away. It drifted back out just as quickly, the silence only broken by the sound of his phone smashing against the wall.
You told yourself you weren’t thinking about kissing your boss before, but now you definitely weren’t thinking about it. There was no way to tell what his actual problem was last night, and you weren’t going out of your way to find out. Maybe he was in a bad mood, maybe he was just that drunk. Maybe he was the kind of guy who gets a little rude when he’s hungry—either way it wasn’t your problem. He didn’t get to make it your problem. And bad mood or not, he didn’t get to talk to you like that—about you like that.
It wasn’t the most mature thing you’d ever done, but you made sure to come to the office later than usual to avoid running into him. When you made it upstairs and found the door to his office closed, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You stopped to make sure he wasn’t waiting in your office before you closed the door behind you and settled in.
It didn’t make any sense to you when Mr. Emeritus knocked and entered without your permission anyway. He waltzed into your office and placed a large stoneware dish in the middle of your desk like it was the most natural action in the world. Like the two of you hadn’t been screaming at each other a handful of hours ago. The dish was the same deep green he always seemed to accessorize everything with, from the face on his watch to the velvet chaise in his office. It was probably just as expensive as everything else he owned, but it didn’t explain why it was on your desk.
But whatever was inside smelled amazing.
“What is this?” you asked, gesturing toward the dish in confusion when he failed to speak up.
“It’s lasagna,” he replied quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.
“Do you think I’m completely incapable of taking care of myself?” You were not prepared to have this conversation with him again.
“No, it’s not—I owe you an apology.”
“Ok. But this is an entire lasagna.”
“You deserve a better apology than just one piece. Everything’s made from scratch, except the cheese. And I’m sorry.”
You raised an eyebrow and poked at the dish. “So, who made it?”
“I did,” he admitted softly.
“You,” you confirmed with an air of disbelief. “You made lasagna from scratch. Like what…like the…ok I’m going to be honest with you I don’t even know what the fuck is in lasagna. What is happening right now?”
“What you heard—what I said last night, it was out of context, but that doesn’t make it right. That’s not what I think of you. That’s not how I see you.”
Even with the paint you could tell he was tired. You wondered if he got any sleep at all or if he’d simply sacrificed it to make you an apology lasagna. “I…um…”
“It’s ok. You don’t have to forgive me or anything. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry and I respect you…a lot honestly. You’re kind of…I don’t know—”
“I’m gonna stop you there because we definitely don’t have an HR department,” you interrupted with a nervous smile. “You’re sorry. I’m sorry. It’s ok, it’s done. And I got dinner out of it.”
“It’s vegetarian,” he offered as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Seemed like the safest bet.”
“That is really thoughtful of you.”
He nodded and let a shy smile form on his face before heading for the door. “She’s not my girlfriend, by the way,” he called over his shoulder.
“What?”
“The Countess,” he answered and leaned against the doorframe. “She’s not my girlfriend. I mean, if you really wanted to know you could have just asked me if I was single.”
His smile grew as your entire face turned pink before you hid behind your hands. “Oh my god you are actually the worst,” you groaned between your fingers. “Get out of my office.”
“Enjoy the lasagna,” he said with a little laugh and disappeared out the door.
Your boss was confusing and infuriating, but underneath it all he meant well. You still weren’t sure what kind of conversation you had overheard, maybe you’d never know. Maybe it wasn’t for you to know. But the big, intimidating man who painted a skull on his face every day had bent over backwards to try to make it up to you. A man who owed you absolutely nothing wanted things between the two of you to go back to normal. He wasted no time with his stupid jokes—they might have even gotten worse. But he smiled a little easier around you after that, a flash of sharp white teeth you found yourself hoping you’d see more often. He began to find more reasons to visit your office, sometimes saying nothing as he sat on the worn out sofa in the corner and tossed your stuffed Baphomet from one hand to the other.
You did the same in turn, spending more and more time in his office. The rumor mill turned downstairs, the Dolls creating reasons and scenarios amongst themselves that Mary refused to confirm or deny. Things only escalated after the day you were too busy compiling tax forms to remember to eat and fainted, falling right into Secondo’s arms. Two of the Dolls, Mina and Lucy, had been in his office updating their paperwork and watched the entire thing unfold. Everyone at the club had already heard by the time you woke up, though no one seemed especially surprised no matter how many times you told them nothing was going on.
It was true. There was nothing going on between you and your boss aside from a couple of lighthearted conversations and unexpected deliveries from that fancy bakery he liked. But you didn’t mind. You didn’t need more than that from him. Truth be told, it was probably better that nothing happened at all. You couldn’t handle another heartbreak anyway.
Secondo frowned at the sight of your empty office. He wasn’t even sure why he was so disappointed not to find you, but he was slowly beginning to grasp that whatever he felt about you wasn’t going away any time soon. He kept it to himself, of course, never wanting to admit to you or anyone that he could care about you. But there was a part of him that was invested completely, a part that wanted—needed to know that you were safe and happy. If he knew that much, he could handle anything else.
There were only so many places in the building you could be. It didn’t take long for him to hear your laugh ringing through the hallway outside the Dolls’ dressing room. He leaned against the doorway, watching as you leaned over and pointed at something in the massive stack of paper you’d handed to Mina.
“High heeled?” Mina asked, her head tilting as she stared at you in confusion.
“High yield,” you corrected with a light laugh.
“Oh! Yeah, that makes way more sense.” She shook her hair away from her face as she laughed, the glitter around her eyes catching the light as she moved. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”
“Enough for what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in mock disappointment.
“Hey Bone Daddy,” Mina called with a wave. She clutched the packet you gave her to her chest as she stood. “I should get back out there.”
Secondo waited until she was gone to speak again. “Are you planning on stealing my Dolls?”
“Hardly,” you shot back quickly. “I’m helping her set up a retirement fund. Did you know Mina cleared six figures last year?”
“Is that a lot?” he teased.
“You not knowing that would explain a lot about your financial records.”
“I know what Mina makes. I know what all the girls make. Even you,” he added, letting his voice drop low.
“I’m not one of your girls, Secondo,” you reminded him playfully. You knew better, but your face felt hot anyway.
“Is that judgement?”
“Of course not!”
“I’m just teasing you, tesorino. You’re wound so tight for someone who works in a place like this.”
“I am not.”
He shrugged. “I appreciate you helping the Dolls. It’s…kind of you.”
“Just doing my job.”
“No, you’re not.”
You sighed. “They’re good people. I just want to help.”
“I know. It’s quite noble of you, good quality for a person to have. Maybe you should focus that energy on yourself sometime.”
“Hey I—”
“Did you eat today? Or did you think three iced coffees was enough to sustain you?”
“What are you, my dad?”
He smiled. “Oh, you can call me daddy if you’d like.”
“I hate you so much,” you groaned as your face turned from pink to red.
“I guess I can live with that,” he said with a shrug, knowing neither one of you really meant what you said.
You rolled your eyes and slipped past him, darting through the door that led back out to the club. You could have taken the back hallway to head back up to your office; it was the faster, quieter path. But occasionally, you liked to be reminded of how successful the club was on more than paper. There was something magical about the glitz and glamor of the place, about the noise and the lights. Secondo had created something truly special with his club and you could only hope he let himself be proud of it.
You weaved through the crowd, trying to make your way to the other end when an arm locked around your waist. Some stranger was pawing at you, breathing in your ear as they requested a private dance. You shook your head, frantically trying to explain to the man that you weren’t one of the Dolls and even if you were he wasn’t allowed to touch you. Whatever argument you tried to make fell flat as the man restrained you, pulling you by your wrists toward the private rooms. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything to help yourself out of this situation, but your body had gone numb.
The sickening sound of the man’s bones snapping seemed to drown out the music, followed shortly by his shouts of pain. Secondo had somehow put himself between you and the man, breaking both of the man’s hands in the process. The last thing you saw was the man brandishing something metal. It caught the light as he held it up, its sharp edge reflecting neon.
“C’mon, we gotta go,” Mary said, but they had already pulled you from the room as security poured in behind you.
“No, Mary, he has a fucking knife!”
“The Boss will be fine, trust me. I can’t say the same for you and me if we don’t get upstairs now.”
Your body gave up, your resolve snapping cleanly in half as tears fell from your eyes. You had never been so scared in your entire life. This was supposed to be your fortress, the place where these things couldn’t happen. You let out another round of sobs as Mary hoisted you over their shoulder and carried you upstairs.
You collapsed on the chaise, wrapping your arms around your knees as Mary slammed the door to Secondo’s office closed with a force you couldn’t quite comprehend. There were locks sliding into place, things you had never bothered to notice as chaos rained downstairs. Mary ran back and forth, pulling up camera feeds on any and every available screen, their bottom lip pulled nervously between their teeth.
As quickly as it started, it was over. You blinked hard through your tears as Mary pulled the locks back and Secondo burst through the door. His suit was soaked with blood.
“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” Secondo asked as he pulled you up from the chaise and tugged at your arms, inspecting them as he went. He brought his hands to your face as he searched you for injuries. His eyes, usually so hard and still, were full of fear, softened by his concern for you.
You shook your head frantically once his words really sunk in. You weren’t hurt, but you were worried by the amount of blood around his mouth and down the front of his suit. “That man—”
“Will never touch you again,” he swore. “I can promise you that.”
“Did he hurt you?” you asked in a tiny voice. It seemed like such a stupid question, as though anyone remotely like Secondo could be hurt in a fight, but there was so much blood. The adrenaline in your body was rapidly wearing off, your limbs getting heavier as the seconds ticked by.
“No. I’m fine, tesorino.”
“But you’re bleeding.”
He quickly brought the back of his hand to his mouth, swiping at the red stain. Instead of pulling his hand away, his tongue darted out. His eyes rolled back at the taste, out of disgust or arousal you weren’t sure. Your vision was fuzzy enough at the edges, that tunnel closing in. Maybe you hadn’t seen what you thought you’d seen?
“Sec—” was all you managed before he caught you in his arms.
thank you for your time 💖 part two
#my fic#papa emeritus ii x reader#papa emeritus ii fanfic#secondo x reader#secondo fanfiction#vampire secondo x reader#vampire secondo#ghost band fanfiction#the band ghost fanfiction#suck club forever
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The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t)
Summary: Mary had a certain…reputation around town. Equal blends of obnoxious and quiet, depending on who he was around, and not afraid of stirring up a little trouble if the occasion was right. The elderly were afraid of him, children gawked at him, and the “straight-and-narrow” folks were annoyed by his antics and “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. I’d heard stories of him being kicked out of bars for all sorts of interesting behaviors and fighting mouthy assholes in alleyways. I didn’t know him well enough to know if it was purely a stage act that filtered into his interactions or if it was really who he was. Prior to tonight, I hadn’t cared enough to really think about it.
“You coming?” His voice broke me from my mental back-and-forth and I looked up at him, noticing he had walked a few steps ahead of me, his body now turned to face me with his arm motioning toward the side yard.
Fuck it, I thought, nodding my head as I jogged to catch up to him. I guess I’m spending the evening with Mary Goore.
Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI
Mary Goore x OFC / 7.2k words
Warnings: language, graphic description of oral sex, mentions of animal harm (no animal harm actually occurs), recreational drug use
ao3 link
Chapter One: Hook-up #1: The Rooftop
It wasn’t that I was against going to a house party. During the handful of years that I’d experienced adulthood (and some of my teenage years as well), I’d been to plenty, and I’d seen some shit that still brought smiles (and shudders) to my face.
No, it wasn’t a feeling of disdain or a lack of desire to be at the loud, crowded ranch-style home on the rougher side of town full of ornery drunk young adults; it was that I didn’t have the social battery to play the “party game” tonight.
Desiree had dragged me out all but against my will. (“It will be fun!” She’d said. “Come on…a couple bands are going to play!”) Although I knew she was hoping her words would act as a catalyst for my desire to attend, it only made me roll my eyes. I’d been engulfed in the local music scene for ages and it was always a toss up which type of bands you’d see playing at house parties.
Eventually, I’d resigned to my fate after she’d both used her big brown puppy eyes (which I’d lovingly nicknamed her “Puss in Boots” tactic), and a confession that she was trying to sleep with the guy that lived there and needed a little support. “Friends don’t let friends get cockblocked,” she’d argued. So, after an hour of preening on her end and me smelling which clothes seemed the least likely to need a wash, we’d hopped in a rideshare and headed to the party on the other side of town.
I’d lost track of Des after about ten minutes when she’d homed in on Thomas, the illustrious party-thrower and member of her current favorite local band. I’d received a pleading look and an air kiss as she’d locked arms with him and disappeared into the crowd. I assumed this meant she was abandoning me and would make it up to me later somehow.
Currently, I stood with my back hugging the wood-paneled wall of a sunken den with a mostly gone PBR in hand, people watching. I sighed and took the last sip from my can, cringing a bit at the warmth and watery taste that a last sip always provides, and chucked the can in a nearby overflowing trash bin.
The den wasn’t as full as the rest of the larger rooms of the house, which is one of the reasons I chose it. A thrash metal band was playing in the partially finished basement downstairs and their sound was loud and gritty enough to pierce through the subfloor and into the main level. Despite this, a few groups of people congregated around the den in various stages of conversation and drunkenness.
I pushed myself off the wall and hopped up the half steps to round into the kitchen with a hope that it had been long enough for Des to reappear somewhere. I was almost instantly met with a crowd of people circling around the kitchen table in an energetic game of beer pong. My eyes peered through the space between two guys cheering on the team closest to us, and I could quickly see why the game was so lively: each successful shot resulted in both a drink and the removal of an article of clothing of the opposing team.
I glanced across the kitchen to the clock on the stove. 11:17 PM. I’d been here for almost an hour and a half already. My social battery was nearly dead at this point, so I decided to hop out to the back patio for a little reprieve. It was surprisingly empty (which I credited to the band playing and the strip pong) and I slid into a plastic deck chair before pulling my vape out of my pocket and folding my legs up to criss-cross in the seat of the chair.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed as I leaned back and gazed at the stars from between the branches of the old trees craning over the house and yard, but it couldn’t have been that long before I heard the screen door slide open and the light clunking of boot-trodden footsteps approaching. I didn’t glance up, instead flipping the vape back and forth through my fingers as if lost in thought.
The sound of a seemingly male voice, who I attributed to the boot-man, interrupted my calm.
“That shit is terrible for your lungs.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I don’t do it that often,” I replied coolly. I’d hoped to escape conversation for a while by coming outside and I wasn’t all that interested in small talk.
I glanced over to see the person who’d spoken to me and was met with a smirk and shrug from a mystery man. Golden brown hair hung down past his shoulders and onto his back, framing his angular face. His cheeks looked ashen - almost as if dark makeup had been wiped off - and he held a beer bottle in hand as he leaned against the railing of the old wood porch. His eyes didn’t falter and I searched to see if I recognized them. Were they green? Hazel? I couldn’t quite tell in the darkness of the patio and I surely didn’t know who he was.
Breaking our stare, and in a slight act of defiance, I took a long pull from my vape pen. The bitter, smooth taste of THC danced down my throat and filled my lungs. I exhaled the skunky-smelling vapor, trying to politely aim towards the other side of the patio, and immediately started to cough. Hard.
“Oh shit, I didn't know that’s what you were doing,” the guy said with a look of surprise and a small laugh. I wanted to retort with something snarky (“What else would I be doing out here?”), but when I tried to form the words, I was overcome by continuous strings of deep coughs and wheezes as I tried to intake air.
“Here.” He took a step closer and held out his beer to me. I furrowed my brow, my arm still covering my mouth as I shook through my coughing fit, but ultimately accepted it with a slight nod. The beer was cool on my throat and helped to soothe the self-inflicted soreness. I only needed a couple of small swigs before my breathing seemed back to normal and I could hand him back the bottle.
“Thanks, um—...” I paused, looking him over in search of his name.
“Mary,” he finished for me, accepting the beer back, “Mary Goore.”
“Dahlia,” I offered back, earning a tip of his bottle in reply.
Now that I’d fumbled my way through breaking the ice, I couldn’t help but sneak a better look at him. He was surely taller than me. His frame appeared lean and muscular from what I could see underneath his leather battle jacket and tight black jeans. My suspicions about the shoes were also confirmed. He was wearing a pair of black combat boots that matched the sound of his clunking footsteps.
“I don't think I've seen you around before,” he said after a beat, breaking me from my obvious study of his appearance. I looked away and took a much smaller drag from my vape pen.
“I'm here with a friend. Or, well, I was.” I licked my lips, eyes cast through the screen door as I gazed at the busy kitchen, “I kind of lost track of her.”
“She ditched you? That's kind of shitty,” he replied.
I turned to look at him again and was met with those piercing eyes. Green I decided. Definitely dark green. Mossy. “I'm pretty sure she's off with Thomas. Somewhere.” I motioned my hand haphazardly in the air. “I don't know. It’s been over an hour since I’ve seen her.”
He chuckled at this and took another pull from his bottle. “Yeah, if she’s with Tommy, I wouldn’t expect to see her for a while.” He paused and looked towards the direction of the screen door before looking back at me again. “You not into beer pong?”
I shrugged and looked in at the kitchen again. “Bad aim.” He nodded and at this point I noticed that the girls on the losing team were nearly nude, only wearing their bras and panties, while the guys on the opposing team had only lost their shirts. “I also don’t feel like taking my clothes off.”
A smile graced his lips at my words. “So, you won't be following in your friend's footsteps then?”
I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks at his innuendo and I looked away to hide my embarrassment. It wasn’t that I was against casual sex. I wasn’t prude, per say, but the idea of talking about it openly and alone with a stranger made me a little uncomfortable.
“Sometimes, I just need a break from the crowd. The noise and the...feeling of so many people around me—… It's nice to be somewhere a little more open and calm,” I said softly.
I exactly don’t know why I said it — I didn’t owe Mary an explanation and I certainly didn’t need to get personal with him. I suppose I was trying to steer the conversation away from my best friend’s hookup and the raunchy game happening inside.
Mary let out a chuckle at this admission and my brows furrowed defensively. “What?” I asked.
He shook his head a little and the light pouring through the screen door to the kitchen illuminated his face, showing that the corners of his mouth were tugged in an amused smirk. “You crave calm, yet you come to a house party?” I felt myself bristle a little at this. “You’re interesting, Dahlia.”
He cast me a smile that was equal parts cocky and warm, and god, there were those eyes again staring right at me. I shook the thought from my head.
“Why are you out here, then?” I asked in a defensive retort.
Mary shrugged again, nonchalant as ever, and took another sip of his nearly empty beer. “Lost a bet,” he answered.
I felt my heart drop as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Was he out here talking to me because of some stupid punishment for losing to his friends? ‘Go talk to the weird chick sitting by herself outside’? He must have noticed my reaction, because he quickly interjected. “—Not like that! I'm avoiding the guy I owe $20.”
“Oh, so you're nosy and you're a sore loser,” I shot back in jest, turning my body in my chair to face him a little better.
Mary rolled his eyes. “No, he's just an asshole and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of winning.”
I laughed a little at his response. “Arrogant, too.” I quipped. This earned me another cheeky smile. I felt the corner of my lips tug down in my own slight smirk and started to flip the vape pen between my fingers again.
“You gonna share that?” Mary motioned to the vape, his eyebrow slightly raised in question.
“I thought this shit was bad for your lungs?” I snapped back his own words quickly, a grin plastered to my cheeks.
This earned me a laugh from Mary, warm and genuine, and he raised his hands up to his chest in defeat. “To be fair, I didn’t know you had weed. That changes things.”
I leaned forward in my chair, almost falling out as I passed the vape pen over to him. He raised the pen to his lips and I watched as they pursed around the mouthpiece. Before I could realize it, I found myself thinking about the fullness of his lips and the slant of his jaw as he took an expert pull. I sucked my own lips into my mouth slightly in response, trying to will-down the fluttering in my gut. He exhaled slowly and passed the pen back to me.
His eyes zeroed in on my form. I realized that I had probably been caught watching, and in a last ditch effort to hide the obvious expression on my face, I rolled my eyes. “Show off,” I said.
Mary simply grinned proudly in response. Although I didn’t really know him, I can’t say I was surprised at his cockiness. We sat in silence for a few moments (which was weirdly not uncomfortable), and I leaned back once more in my chair to study the pin-pricked stars in the inky sky. It was only getting later, and the likelihood of me meeting back up with Des was slim. After a handful of minutes, I slipped my vape pen back in my pocket and began to zip up my jacket, standing up to stretch out my tired limbs.
“You off?” Mary asked, breaking the calm quiet. He had since moved to sit in the other vacant chair just next to his spot on the railing, and one of his legs was folded up to rest along his other as he reclined in the plastic seat. I allowed my eyes to travel the expanse of his body, noting the well-worn band tee logo hidden underneath the patch-strewn jacket, as well as the holes and rips dotting the length of his pants.
I mentally shook myself from my glance and put my hands in my pockets. I was staring again. “Yeah, I don't see Des returning anytime soon and I really don't feel like trying to buy my way into a crowd right now,” I began to rock back and forth on my heels as I studied my shoes.
The sound of glass hitting something hard broke my focus and I jumped. Mary had thrown his bottle into the trash can across the patio and was standing up from his seat. When I looked up at him, he had a coy smile on his face. He must have seen me react to the noise. “Let’s get out of here, then,” he reasoned, walking over towards me.
“Let's?...as in you and me?” I asked, eyebrow slightly cocked.
He shrugged his shoulders and his hands found his own jean pockets. “Yeah, why not?”
I paused.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t ever heard about Mary Goore before. On the contrary, I had heard many stories about him through the grapevine. We were both active in our local music scene - him, as a musician, and me, as a spectator - and hung out in some of the same circles. I’m sure I’d seen his band play at least once or twice at some point and I’d noticed him at various gigs and bars around town. I’d never met him before, though — his vibe was a bit too forward and intimidating for me to approach him in the past.
Mary had a certain…reputation around town. Equal blends of obnoxious and quiet, depending on who he was around, and not afraid of stirring up a little trouble if the occasion was right. The elderly were afraid of him, children gawked at him, and the “straight-and-narrow” folks were annoyed by his antics and “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. I’d heard stories of him being kicked out of bars for all sorts of interesting behaviors and fighting mouthy assholes in alleyways. I didn’t know him well enough to know if it was purely a stage act that filtered into his interactions or if it was really who he was. Prior to tonight, I hadn’t cared enough to really think about it.
Why did he want to spend time with me, of all people? There was an entire house full of partiers he likely knew and got along with. Plus, the now nude girls at the beer pong table were definitely a more enticing choice than a quiet girl getting high on the patio while she waited for her friend, the social lubricator.
“You coming?” His voice broke me from my mental back-and-forth and I looked up at him, noticing he had walked a few steps ahead of me, his body now turned to face me with his arm motioning toward the side yard.
Fuck it, I thought, nodding my head as I jogged to catch up to him. I guess I’m spending the evening with Mary Goore.
🜏🜏🜏
Mary had led me through to the front yard of the house with ease before sidling up to the sidewalk towards the more urban part of town. I followed next to him and matched his pace, hands in my pockets as I looked around at the dark street. We were mostly quiet as we walked, which I didn’t mind. Maybe he reasoned that I didn’t want to engage in small talk since I’d purposefully separated myself from the party crowd, or maybe he was content to just walk. I wasn’t sure but was grateful nonetheless.
We ended up at a 24-hour convenience store a few blocks from Thomas’ house. Mary motioned towards the door as if asking nonverbally if I wanted to come in, but I shook my head, holding up my vape pen to tell him that I was fine outside while he did whatever he’d planned on doing.
It wasn’t a long wait, probably five or ten minutes, and I’d had enough time to take a few more hits of my vape pen to calm my nerves. My anxiety had started to bloom in my chest. I didn’t know Mary and I was alone with him, in the dark, walking around an area of town I wasn’t familiar with. I had made sure to ping Des with my location, sending a simple text of “left for a walk, be home later” (though I doubted she was in any position to check her phone).
Mary emerged from the gas station with an armful of snacks and a brown bag stuffed with…something. I shook my head in disbelief and pocketed the vape pen again as I followed him down another unknown street.
“Here, put these in your pockets since you have so many of them—” Mary grabbed a couple of small bags of chips from the arm holding them and held them out to me before stopping and turning to face me, “—why the fuck are you wearing cargo pants?”
My eyes widened in defensive disbelief. “I like them!”
He laughed and cocked a brow at me. “Is that like a...scouts thing? You one of those doomsday preppers or secret militiamen?” I could feel the snark dripping from his tone. He was enjoying this.
“They're literally just pants! They're comfy and they're cute and I—” I sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose, “I do not have to explain this to you.”
Mary pushed the bags of chips into my chest playfully and I quickly struggled to grab onto them. Dropping them would be the icing on the shit cake of embarrassment.
“...you didn't steal these, did you?” I asked as I eyed him cautiously.
Mary, who had begun walking again, turned his head to look at me with a glance of disbelief, surprise, and possibly a tinge of irritation. I felt my heart sink a little with guilt and I let out another defeated noise.
“Fine. I'm only doing this because I feel like I owe you,” I grumbled, stuffing the small chip bags into my cargo pockets.
“Scouts honor?”
“Fuck off, Goore.”
We walked down a winding sidewalk, the street completely empty and illuminated eerily with various old street lamps, some flickering in exhaustion. It had grown quiet again (except for the shaking, crunching noise of the chips in my pockets) and this time I felt like I had to break the dead air.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t turn to address me. “Somewhere quiet and calm. Just like you wanted.”
I felt that familiar heat rising to my cheeks and my momentary anxiety cooled. “Thanks,” I eventually replied.
“Don't mention it,” he said with a slight smile, before his expression changed to one of seriousness, “Really, don't mention it. I have a reputation to uphold.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I've heard. Did you really microwave a cat?”
Mary suddenly stopped in front of me and turned around, causing me to nearly run smack-dab into his chest. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed with furrowed brows. “I might be an asshole, but I don't fuck with animals. That shit is psycho.” He shook his head and pointed to one of my pockets, the one holding the vape, and I took this as his way of asking for it without really asking. I handed it to him and we started walking again. After a long drag, he looked over at me, our paces now matched, and exhaled with a lewd smile. “The only pussy I eat is in between the woman’s legs that are squeezing my head.”
I cleared my throat to hide my noise of surprise at his boldness. It didn’t work and he laughed at the stunned expression on my face.
“So, um, what’s in the brown bag?” I asked, changing the subject.
“A forty. And shaved ice.” Mary handed me back the pen and motioned to the left before turning down another quiet street. I looked at him curiously. “Come on, we're almost there.”
Mary started to jog off the path through some bushes that lined the sidewalk and I scurried to keep up with him. It was almost comical watching his lean body try to move quickly without dropping his bounty and I had to hold back a snort. He led us through a bank of trees and through some overgrown grass (during which I made sure to threaten that if I got a tick I would beat his ass) before stopping in front of a small building.
It was an old, abandoned warehouse that sat just off the main road. The structure was all cement and brick with worn shingles and overgrown vines, but in the starlight, it looked oddly beautiful.
Mary walked up to the side of the structure and pushed some tree starts to the side, revealing an old ladder that had been purposefully tucked away. “I was hoping this would still be here,” he breathed out as he pulled it to the side and repositioned it against the cracked facade of the building, wiggling it a little to test its sturdiness. “Come on.”
Mary took the paper bag he’d been carrying and gripped it between his teeth as he climbed up the rickety ladder. I hesitantly followed, bouncing a little on the bottom step to make sure it wouldn’t break under my weight, and eventually hoisted myself onto the dirty, rough shingles of the building’s roof. Mary held his hand out to help me find my footing, and we walked over to what looked like the most stable area of the top of the graffitied building.
We sat down beside one another and Mary started arranging his goodies. I, on the other hand, leaned back, my hands stabilizing behind me with knees bent so that I could glance up at the night sky. The moon was visible and constellations dotted the great expanse above us. Everything was much more visible from our elevated position. Sounds of crickets and a faraway frog teetered through the air. He was right — this was much more peaceful than the party. I could feel a smile creep onto my face again at his thoughtfulness.
“So, tell me how come I haven’t seen you around before?” Mary started as he spread his legs out in a v-shape against the tiles of the roof.
“You probably have and just haven’t noticed. I’ve seen you a couple of times at bars and stuff.” I played with the zipper on one of my pants pockets and tried to sound as neutral as possible. I didn’t want to give the impression that I cared that he didn’t know who I was…even if that wasn’t necessarily true.
“Shit, sorry,” Mary awkwardly laughed and shot me an apologetic smile.
I returned it warmly. “It’s fine. I don’t have much of a memorable face…or presence for that matter. I’ve come to accept that.”
“I’m guessing you’re into the music scene? Or is that just your friend?” Mary opened up the brown paper bag and took out the forty and a lidded double cup of shaved ice. I watched as he unsheathed the second cup and distributed the now sloshing ice between both cups, before cracking open the beer to pour into both of them.
“I dabble,” I passed him a small grin and accepted the cup with a silent nod, “I’m not as active as I used to be. Life and…stupid shit got in the way.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and looked down at the icy mess in the cup.
“Boyfriend?” Mary questioned.
I nodded. “Ex.”
“Ahh. Someone I know?” he asked as he took a swig of his drink.
“Brody Gillings.”
Mary immediately sputtered out the beer concoction and laughed loudly, wiping the corner of his mouth with his leather jacket sleeve. “You dated that tool? Oh fuck, that’s funny. I’m so sorry.”
I watched him as he shook his head, still laughing, and rolled my eyes in response. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, get it out,” I paused and took a sip of my own drink.The taste of hoppy beer had been muddled down with water and gritty ice and I couldn’t help the disgusted look that painted my face. “Jesus, Mary, this is awful,” I choked out.
Mary returned the chuckle and to my surprise, he looked down at his own cup sheepishly. “Yeah, beer slushies sounded like a good idea in my mind, but come to think of it, I’ve never put ice in my beer. Shit’s watery as fuck.”
I shot him an apologetic glance before allowing a beat of silence to overtake the rooftop. I found myself speaking before I even realized it was my voice that cut through the air. “It…wasn’t always bad. He was charming for a while. Introduced me to a few black metal bands that I like.” I let out another small breath and licked my lips as I picked at a stray thread on the fabric of my pants. “Everyone makes mistakes,” I looked up at him, a resigned tug at my lips, “Mine just lasted a couple years too long.”
Despite how awful they tasted, Mary gulped down a chunk of his homemade icee with a nod. “Didn’t he move to Milwaukee to join some up-and-coming band or some shit?”
This time, it was me that choked out a surprised laugh. “Is that what he told people?!” I shook my head and scoffed. “Makes sense. He’s all about appearances.”
It was true - my ex had been the kind of person who reveled in his reputation in town. The big, bad bassist that could break necks and down more shots than the whole bartop combined. I turned my head to look over at Mary. “He moved to Florida to take care of his grandma. She’s close to death and he’s itching to be written into the will.”
He raised his eyebrows in retort. “Wow, he just keeps getting shittier.”
“Seems to be the running theme with Brody.”
As time wore on, we filled the night air with pleasant and comfortable conversation, Mary sharing about the bands he’d played in and his current band, Repugnant, which were trying to set up a small coastal tour. I shared a little about my job and my friendship with Desiree, and we sipped our beer slushies until they were mostly gone and had became more water than beer.
Talking with Mary seemed natural. It came easily. Despite not truly knowing who he was as a person, I spoke with him like he was an old friend. I didn’t feel an air of judgment with what I chose to share with him, and he seemed appreciative that I wanted to know more about the things he enjoyed. Specifically, his music.
After a while, my head was feeling a little fuzzy from the weed and the beer and I allowed my eyes to close as I relaxed against the scratchy shingles. As the sound of a nearby bird cooed in the distance, Mary reached over and surprised me by looping a licorice rope around my neck. Where he had kept it during our walk over, I had no idea.
“A licorice rope? I haven't had one of these since I was like...eleven.” I reached up and pulled the rope down to remove the wrapper before biting off a small piece.
I looked over at the gutter punk beside me to see him tying his own rope in knots, having already removed and discarded the entirety of the wrapper onto the ground below us.
“Their R&D is genius,” he started, hands working the candy into an intricate knot, “They're like a gateway to BDSM. Perfect for preteens who like pre-bondage.”
I felt myself choke on my bite of licorice and I let out an incredulous laugh. “Mary! I'm pretty sure that's not what these were designed for.”
He paused his tying and looked over at me with another one of his trademark smirks. “Are you saying you're not into bondage? No surprises for me in those cargo pants?”
I felt my cheeks flush and I took another bite to hide my embarrassment. “I am not answering that question.”
This seemed to amuse him, but he let it go when he saw my bashful response, quickly changing the subject. “Hey - chips,” he snapped playfully, hands reaching out in a grabby motion. I unzipped the pockets of my pants and threw the chip bags at him. Annoyingly, he caught the bags without hesitation and ripped open a bag of Lays, quickly shoving a chip into his mouth.
I tossed him a look.
“I know it's not microwaved cat, but—”
“— it's no pussy either,” he interrupted, mouth full of chips as he chewed.
“You're really obsessed with that, aren't you?” I leaned toward him, a hand on my hip as if to teasingly scold him.
He beamed beside me. “Who wouldn't be? There is no better feeling than having your face between some chick's thighs....”
This time, the silence between us was notable. I looked down and bit my lip, not exactly knowing what to say in response. Mary was so nonchalant, so chill yet matter-of-fact in talking about his experiences. It was something I envied.
He must have caught on to my nervous aura because he set the bag of chips down and rotated his whole body to face me. His eyebrows raised in shock. “...wait, seriously?! You've never—”
“—I've never been with someone that liked it!” I spat out, heat flushing my face as I looked away in mortification.
“Damn, Brody really was a dickhead. I guess that shouldn't shock me.”
I released a deep breath of resignation and reached up to rub my palms against my eyes, pushing away the burgundy locks that had fallen into my face. “He wasn't the kind of guy who cared about how I felt….in a lot of ways, actually,” I admitted. I could feel Mary’s eyes on me — studying me — and I avoided them like the plague.
“...And other guys? Before? They didn't go down on you?” He sounded confused.
I paused. I’m pretty sure I audibly gulped, but my heart was racing so fast that I didn’t really know what was happening. I fiddled with the thread between my fingers, twisting it as I tried to figure out how to respond. "I never reall— what are you doing?!"
My words were interrupted because Mary had shifted from beside me and was crawling over my outstretched leg, settling in between my knees to face me straight on. He was only a few feet from the edge of the roof. “Mary, what the hell? You’re going to fall!”
He ignored my protests. “I'm showing you what you're missing out on,” He said as he saddled himself in between my legs. His eyes flickered up to mine and god damn it, the green hue was almost glowing in the moonlight. He licked his lips and continued. “I'm not gonna let you go through life without experiencing this at least once.”
He can’t be serious. I chuckled nervously and shook my head. “No, Mary, it's okay, really, you don't have to,” I said, but my words were clearly said in vain. His hands were already resting on the green fabric covering my knees. His grip was soft yet firm, and I felt a lump form in my stomach.
“I know, I want to,” he grinned, then quickly added, “Platonic head. Just two people enjoying themselves.” Mary raised one hand to his temple and gave me a two finger salute, a mock look of seriousness on his face. “Scouts honor.”
“Fuck you,” I laughed out at his jab. Despite the situation, I felt myself relax a little under his touch. He looked at me lecherously.
“Maybe if you play your cards right.” He winked at me and sat back on his knees, his hands beginning to brush up my thighs as if to ask silent permission to continue. I swallowed roughly and looked down at his fingertips as they moved across the inseam of my pants and up to the button at my waist.
I lifted my hips up towards him as his hand ghosted over the button at my waist. He effortlessly popped the button through its closure and slipped both hands under the waistband before pulling the pants down my legs. I silently thanked myself for deciding to shave my legs in the shower this morning as the fabric slid down my calves before being kicked off to the side. I was left in my jacket, tank top, and luckily, a cute pair of lacy black cheeky panties that I had thrown on quickly before we left for the party.
Mary moved a little closer, leaning in as he ran his palms up and down my inner thighs. My skin was pale - maybe even more so in the moonlight - and his hands felt electric with every stroke. I leaned back on my elbows and looked at him through anxious eyes. His long hair hung in strands that perfectly framed his face and at that moment, I noticed just how attractive Mary was. His features were nearly chiseled and masculine, yet his movements were fluid, confident, and soft, almost like he was afraid to break me.
“Damn, your skin is so soft,” he muttered out, more to himself than anyone else, and he leaned down to press his lips against my inner thigh. I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath as I felt him kissing along the sensitive skin there. He was dangerously close to my core and I suddenly was feeling self-conscious at having a person I had just barely met touch me so intimately.
Mary must have sensed my apprehension, because he looked up at me with kind eyes, lips still pressing against my leg. “Relax,” he breathed out, his thumbs rubbing circles against my skin, “You deserve to feel good.” I nodded and let out another relaxing breath, eyes closing as I tilted my head back slightly towards the sky.
Had someone told me yesterday that Mary Goore would be eating me out on an abandoned warehouse rooftop, acting completely romantic and sweet and selfless, I would have told them they were fucking high. Yet, after talking with Mary all evening, I realized just how gentle he was. How he’d taken the time to get to know me, to ask about my past, to insinuate that I deserved better than aggressive assholes that used metal music as an excuse to antagonize women. I also realized that I was just as bad as the people that looked down at him for the clothing he wore or the music he played. I’d decided to let my assumptions cloud my interpretation of someone I didn’t even know.
His mouth moved closer and broke me from my rabbithole, his teeth grazing against the curve where my leg met my groin, and he brushed his cheek against the fabric of my panties. I felt myself biting down softly on my lip, fingertips pressed into the textured rooftop, and my hips moved just barely at the contact. He chuckled and brought his hands to rest against my hip bones, fingers sliding under the band of my underwear as he pressed a kiss to my mound. Without another word, he slid my panties off and down my thighs before pocketing them. I’m sure he’d hoped I wouldn’t notice and I made a mental note to confront him later about it.
I lay bare in front of him, half naked against the quiet slate, our only neighbors being the surrounding wildlife and the glowing stars above. Mary pressed another kiss to the bare skin of my pussy before wrapping his arms around my thighs and gently pulling me closer to his mouth. I could feel his breath fanning over me and it felt chilly against the wetness that was now gathering at my center.
He was still for a moment, our breath the only sound punctuating the night, before I felt him lick a stripe up my slit, barely touching my clit before pulling away. I let out an embarrassingly loud moan and reached up to cover my mouth in surprise. I felt him laugh against my thigh.
“Be as loud as you want, dollface. There’s no one around for blocks.”
I nearly felt myself puddle at the nickname and before I could respond, he was licking against my folds again, fingertips gripping tightly against my thighs. I opened my eyes and looked down, raking in a breath at the sight of the emerald-eyed man between my legs. His gaze was trained on my expression and his tongue was now moving up and down teasingly, trying to get a reaction from me as we locked onto each other.
Mary moved his tongue up to my clit and massaged it lightly before wrapping his lips around it and sucking down harshly. I arched my back helplessly and let out a loud moan in response, my thighs beginning to squeeze against the sides of his head. My actions earned me a lustful groan in reciprocation.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured against my skin, kissing my labia before diving in to sloppily lick around my clit, pointing his tongue as he flicked it rhythmically. The motions sent shockwaves to my center and I all but crumbled.
“Oh god, Mary,” I said breathlessly, laying down completely as if to surrender to his ministrations. Had I not been so distracted by his movements, I’d likely have felt his cheeky smile against my core. He knew he was good at what he did and he got off on these reactions. Now that I had a taste of what it felt like to have him between my legs, I was more than happy to give him exactly what he wanted.
The weed was really starting to take effect and my limbs started to feel tingly and heavy. I let myself relax into the roof and against Mary, no longer caring about the tiny noises he was working from me with each movement of his mouth. One of his hands left its place on my quad and snaked between us before barely brushing against my entrance. He gathered the slick there and without warning, he pushed inside of me gently, his tongue lapping from his finger up to my sensitive nub.
Mary started to pump inside of me before adding another, the angle shifting before he hit the spot that had me seeing explosions of light dancing in my vision. I buckled my hips up into his face and he moaned lewdly, rubbing his fingertips against my g-spot as he licked and sucked at my core. With each ministration, each caress of his tongue, I felt the tingling deep in my abdomen building and my knees shaking.
“R-right— fuck, right there,” I whimpered out, my pelvis rocking against his movements. I felt my legs tighten against his head again and without thinking, I reached down to card my fingers through his long, caramel locks, gripping onto them as I guided his head against me. “Don’t stop,” I choked out in an almost sob. I was close and he could tell, because he sped up, increasing the pressure of his tongue as he pumped his fingers in and out of me.
Mary let out another intoxicatingly attractive groan at my words. “You gonna cum on my tongue, kitten?” he all but growled against my folds. I was so close that I could feel myself dripping onto him and I nodded fervently. “Mmph, good girl. Come for me,” he purred, his tongue circling around my clit before clamping down and sucking hard.
I completely lost it at that moment. My thighs trembled as I felt the tightness in my abdomen snap, flooding waves of intense pleasure and electric heat throughout my core and into each cell of my body. My grip on his hair tightened and I let out a near-scream of ecstasy as I came undone around his eager tongue.
Mary continued to work me through my release, his forest-colored eyes watching my every expression as he kissed and sucked at my wet heat. He only stopped when I felt overstimulation take root and pushed lightly at his cheek to signal that it was too much.
Mary ran his tongue along my slit once more, gathering up my cum with a lascivious gleam in his eyes before releasing his grip on my legs and sitting back. My head had since dropped back against the cool shingles and I was nearly panting, my whole body shaking from the intensity of my orgasm.
“Holy shit,” I breathed out after a beat, a broad smile tugging at my face as I brushed some of my long, dark red strands from my face. I took a moment to look down at the pleased punk in front of me and watched as he dipped the fingers that had been inside of me into his own mouth, cleaning them off with an obscene slurp. Heat panged at my stomach again and I nearly came from watching him. Fuck, he was hot.
“You taste incredible,” he said before wiping my slick from his mouth and chin, a seductively satisfied grin on his face. I felt myself flush at his words and I let out a bashful giggle, licking my lips as I watched him relax back on his knees.
“So,” he asked after a minute, reaching out to stroke the pads of his fingers up and down the delicate flesh of my thighs, “Was I right? Nothing better, huh?” He stared at me with lust-blown pupils.
I sat up slightly to face him and sucked my lips into my mouth briefly to attempt to hide my resigned smirk. Reaching up, I threaded my hands through his messy hair, the pad of my thumb rubbing sweetly against the angle of his jawbone. I guess it wouldn’t kill me to give him a tiny victory.
“Shut up, Goore.”
#mary goore#mary goore x ofc#mary goore x oc#repugnant band#repugnant#ghost band fanfic#ghost bc fanfic#ghost fanfic#the band ghost#ghost bc#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#my writing
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Special Ghoul my beloved...
Tagging @puppsworld bc he seemed enthusiastic about this (thanks for the yelling!!! You will never catch me I'm too slippery >:3)
Written in bullet format bc brain is going too fast to make coherent sentences let’s goooo
Warning for references to self-harm/self-mutilation, blood, and autocannibalism! This gets messy y’all
BEFORE:
Ok so Special isn’t a “true” ghoul. They’re a human who turned themself into a ghoul via an unstable and experimental ritual.
This has resulted in issues like mobility issues from excessive scar tissue. Turns out doing your own top surgery isn't such a great idea.
Which human you may ask?
Mary Goore themself! (I had to. I love them ok sue me /lh)
BACKSTORY:
Mary ended up at the Ministry when they took a rough turn in life. They had heard of the Ministry before and were already subscribed to that sect of Satanism but didn’t have any interest in joining an organized religion. They knew the Ministry would take them in so they headed to the Sweden location.
They weren’t officially a Sibling but were in the process of becoming one. (They didn’t really want to, but it was the only way the Ministry would let them stay.)
They heard about the Ghost project starting up and jumped at the chance to get involved with music again
Unfortunately the only way to get involved with that was to be a high-ranking sibling (which could take years) or a ghoul. You can see where I’m going with this.
Mary found an old book deep in the library that detailed a prototype ritual of turning oneself into a ghoul. They decided they had nothing to lose and started planning.
THE TRANSFORMATION (this is where it gets gory):
The ritual involved a lot of carving sigils into skin and a ritual disembowelment. The book strongly recommended a few people help with that but Mary said fuck it I’m doing this myself
Gave themself top surgery while they were at it (transgenderizes your metalhead twink)
They died obviously. At least their mortal vessel did
Mary crawled out of the Summoning well the next night as a ghoul and promptly ate their former body. Yummy.
They kept their skull and some bones bc that’s fuckin metal
GHOUL LIFE:
Seestor was NOT pleased when she found out what had happened
But Mary/Special couldn’t really be Banished, they weren’t from the Pit.
So she begrudgingly let Mary join the Ghost project
They ended up as a co-writer and concept musician and eventually a spokesperson
They go by either Mary or Special, but their friends mostly call them Mary. Special is more of a title to them. Don’t call them Phil unless you want your insides to become outsides.
They have sick scars all over their body from their transformation!!
They don’t have an element, but they do have a bit of magic.
They’ve got a lot of unsettling traits. They don’t blink a lot, they walk silently, and they’ve been known to cause disappearances in nearby towns. A ghoul’s gotta eat.
They’re outwardly cold and grumpy but they’re pretty chill if you get on their good side. They despise Imperator and higher-ranked Ministry members but are protective of Siblings.
They hate the friendly voice they have to put on for interviews, but it’s one of the only times they can let down their mental mask around other people and just chill. (Lots of complicated feelings there, possible hurt/comfort idea?)
They only take off their mask around people they trust.
They like to scare new residents by standing in dark corners and staring at them.
They’re close with Terzo’s ghouls, Cowbell, and a couple humans.
They trust Cowbell the most bc they’re both kinda misfits.
Ghouls only need human meat once in a while but Mary has more cravings for it than most. Ministry members are off limits though.
They were referred to as “it” for a while (mostly by Imperator and her most loyal following) so they aggressively correct anyone’s pronouns (Theirs and others’). It’s the one of the only cracks in their “cold creepy ghoul” demeanor. They’re especially protective of trans Siblings.
They’ve been known to appear from the shadows and correct a condescending cardinal on a Sibling’s pronouns.
Special ghoul my beloved… this was super self indulgent and fun to write. Feel free to use this as inspiration for art/writing!
#Sorry if this is rambly I have a lot of thoughts and raging ADHD#special ghoul#ghost special ghoul#nameless ghouls#the band ghost#mary goore#repugnant band#wham rambles
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I'm going to be honest, it's one thing to tag Mary Goore posts with the Ghost tags (I understand it's to get more views) but it's another to only use Ghost tags and not the Repugnant tag...
Mary Goore is from Repugnant. They are not strictly from Ghost. They haven't even been officially added to Ghost (lore) yet. It's just something Tobias mentioned wanting to do eventually (in his own usual vague words)
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The Good Lord Would Want It That Way (Mary Goore/Reader)
You want to give yourself to Mary, but you know it's wrong. He comes up with a clever solution to your predicament. (18+)
Read on AO3
Just a note: this is going to look a little icky at first but I PROMISE it's entirely consensual. Obviously I don't want to spoil anything, but I figured I ought to be somewhat transparent about it.
You cross your legs shyly and try to avoid making eye contact with Mary at all costs. He’s sitting next to you on the edge of the bed, running his hand up and down your thigh absentmindedly.
“What’s wrong, babycakes?” They ask through kiss-swollen lips. Despite the obvious tent in his jeans, there is genuine concern in his voice. The hand stops moving, coming to rest dangerously close to the apex of your legs. Their touch makes you shudder.
“It’s just…” You sigh, making a desperate attempt to gather your thoughts. “I like you a lot, Mare. You make me really happy, and I want you to be happy, too. I want to… do things with you, but…” You nervously fiddle with the small silver cross hanging from your neck. “But it’s wrong to want that. My faith is very important to me and I made a promise to not… you know, until I get married.” Mentally, you’re bracing yourself for their response. What sort of insults will Mary hurl at you? Will he call you a prude? A Bible-thumper? A stuck-up bitch? The possibilities are endless, really.
To your surprise, Mary takes your hand in theirs. His long fingers, molded by years of guitar playing, are cold against your skin. And yet the gesture is warm, so full of tenderness that it makes you want to cry.
“I’m not gonna pretend like I actually get this whole virginity thing,” they start, “but it wouldn’t be cool if I pressured you. That’d be pretty fucked up.” You lean into him, resting your head on his bony shoulder. The two of you sit there in silence for what feels like millennia. This is end of your relationship, it has to be. There’s no way Mary would tie himself to you just to get laid. You could never ask that of him, anyway. They have such a prickly exterior but deep down you know they’re really sweet and you don’t want to have to say goodbye so soon-
“You know, there is one thing we could try.”
You flush instantly. There’s no way. He couldn’t possibly… That’s only something that’s whispered about at youth groups and bible camps. It’s just a myth; at least, that’s what your youth pastor always told you. You swallow hard, turning to see if Mary is kidding or not. Even without the face-paint and fake blood they look dead serious.
“Oh… Uh, I don’t know, Mary. I’ve never-“
“Forget it,” they say, immediately scooting away from you. “I shouldn’t push.” The earth has opened up between the two of you, the chasm swallowing you whole when Mary eventually gets up from the bed to go check the time on his phone. “It’s getting kinda late, babe. Want me to walk you home soon?” Suddenly, you’ll do anything if they let you stay.
“Wait,” you blurt out before you can think better of it. “I- I want to try it. I want to do it with you.” Mary gives you a look.
“Are you sure? You don’t sound too enthusiastic.” He makes to leave the room and you shoot up, grabbing his wrist.
“I’m sure! Really. I want to. Please, can we?” You’ll get down on your knees if you have to. Anything to make him happy. They give you a once over and smile, although you can’t help the cold snap that runs down your spine at the sight. For a second, there is something smug, malicious even, in the way Mary regards you.
“Whatever you say, princess.” Before you can react, he’s pulling you in and kissing you hungrily. His tongue prods forcefully at your lips, demanding access. You gasp when Mary roughly grabs your ass, using the opportunity to fully claim your mouth. The sensation of their tongue in your throat is uncomfortable at first, but eventually, you relax into the embrace. Reflexively, you wrap your arms around Mary as you two shuffle back to the bed. He gives you a playful little push and you flop clumsily onto the mattress, worrying your lip between your teeth while he liberates himself from the confines of his jacket and t-shirt. Seeing you laying there like a dead fish, they quirk their head.
“Wanna let me see you?” You can’t meet their eyes and fidget with the hem of your sweater nervously.
“I… I think I’d be more comfortable if I kept this on? I don’t know why, I just…” Mary chuckles, and though it’s full of pity, it sounds genuine.
“That’s a-okay, babe. We can do this however you like. This is about you, not me.” You have to bite back a laugh at that, hiding your face in your hands so he can’t see your struggle. Yeah right, Goore.
You lean back onto the bed as Mary drapes himself over you. One of their hands comes up to pin your wrists above your head while the other rests on your hip. He kisses you once, twice, before his fingers are hooking under the waistband of both your skirt and underwear. You shiver and instinctively try to flee from their cold touch.
“At least me take these off,” he purrs, warm breath tickling your neck. Once you nod in assent they make quick work of sliding the garments down your legs, flinging them unceremoniously onto the bedroom floor. The rush of cool air on your sex makes you whine and press your thighs together, but it’s not long before Mary is wrenching them apart again. He lays a kiss to your neck, just slightly nipping at the skin, then starts to move down your body. You gasp, utterly scandalized, when they give your breasts a squeeze through the wool of your sweater.
“Mare!”
“What?” He huffs. “Bible doesn’t say anything about that. At least I don’t think.” They continue downward until they’re face to face with your core. “I do remember something about worshipping false idols, though. But unlike you, I have no problem with blasphemy.” For emphasis, Mary’s tongue descends on your clit. You’d roll your eyes if they weren’t already at the back of your head. At least they know how to put that filthy mouth to good use. He keeps licking and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, snickering as you desperately try to stifle your moans. Eventually, you feel fingers at your entrance, gathering up your slick. You’re about to protest when, instead of sliding into your pussy, Mary’s fingers move further down.
You tense when you feel the caress of skin against the tight ring of muscle. Mary doesn’t breach your opening just yet, opting to draw one of his fingers in slow circles around it with varying degrees of pressure. They suddenly press against your hole and you flinch. Laughing, he detaches from your clit and flashes a cocky smile.
“Just kidding,” he teases, withdrawing completely and ushering you to lay at the head of the bed. Mary rummages through his nightstand for a moment and finally, to your relief, produces a thing of lube. You look away shyly as they uncap the bottle and coat their fingers with what you hope is a generous amount. Setting it back down, he climbs on top of you once again and kisses you with a surprising tenderness.
“You’re still sure?” It’s all but a whisper. You nod, feeling legitimate eagerness bubble up in your chest, and place one of your hands on the back of their head to pull them in for another kiss. This time, you proactively give them access to your mouth, parting your lips ever so slightly. He smiles into the kiss, sensing your excitement, before you feel the coldness of a slick finger against your asshole. You want it so bad you think you might die.
Ever so slowly, Mary’s index finger teases its way inside and you shudder, moaning into their mouth. He breaks away from the kiss and studies your expression once the digit is about halfway in.
“How does it feel, baby?” They ask, testing the waters. It takes you a second to pull the right string of words together.
“It’s… Oh, Mary. I’ve never felt anything like this before.” He gives you a sympathetic look before burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your ear is practically in their mouth as they whisper to you teasingly.
“Of course you haven’t. You poor, innocent little thing.” Their tongue darts out to lick your earlobe while they slowly begin to pump their finger in and out, reaching deeper and deeper inside you. Mary smirks at the moans he pulls out of you. When he speaks again, it’s with the same rumble he uses on stage.
“You act all high and mighty with your Bible quotes and shit, but we both know there’s a filthy fucking whore underneath all that.” You feel a second finger prodding at your ass and you whine pathetically.
“Lucky for you, I corrupt good little Christian girls for a living.” Mary’s middle finger slides home and you practically wail at the stretch. They give you a moment to adjust and it’s just unbearable. You’re already craving more of the unfamiliar sensation, bucking your hips ever so slightly to encourage him to keep going. Mary kisses you as he gives in to your silent plea, his tongue immediately delving into your mouth. You wrap your arms around their torso and pull them down onto you, relishing in the weight of their body on yours.
Mary moans into your mouth, deep and guttural, as he grinds his clothed cock into your clit. Undoubtedly, your juices are getting all over the front of their pants, but you’re both so lost in the feel of each other’s bodies that neither of you really care. Besides, you know that Mary would wear your slick stains with pride, the disgusting fucking creature they are. The image has you clenching around their fingers.
“You like that, babe?” Mary jeers. “You like my fingers in your tight, little ass?” You nod frantically.
“Fu- Mmm. I like it, Mare! It’s so wrong but it feels so good!” You figure he’ll get a kick out of that and he does, groaning and grinding himself into you just a bit harder. Once you relax into their touch, they start scissoring their fingers, gently stretching the muscle. Suddenly, you’re right on the edge of what you know is going to be a powerful orgasm and you’re almost in disbelief; it’s never snuck up on you that fast before. It’s enough to break you completely, and the facade finally drops.
“Oh, fuck. Mary, I’m gonna cum! Mare!” They crash their mouth into yours as your climax washes over you and - Good Lord - it’s like nothing else. You cling onto him for dear life, nails digging into his back, as your insides spasm and pulse with energy. The sounds you’re making, you’re sure, are utterly pornographic, but you’re so lost in your release you’re practically deaf.
You come back down already wanting more. Any notion of continuing the game obliterated, you push Mary off of you and rise to your knees on the bed. In one smooth motion, you’re pulling the stuffy sweater over your head, exposing the rest of your body. The silly cross necklace falls to dangle between your breasts, the cool silver almost a shock against the still-healing tattoo on your sternum. Knowing there’s been a shift, Mary is already sliding down and pulling off their boxers as you lean over to grab the lube. You can’t help but shiver with anticipation when their cock springs free and smacks against their stomach. Tossing him the bottle, you plop down on the bed next to Mary and kiss him feverishly. They uncap it in a hurry and you hold out a hand. After he squirts a good amount into your palm you reach down to stroke his neglected length.
“Want more already?” They ask, trailing off into a moan as you thoroughly coat their shaft with the cool gel. You nod, letting out a reciprocal noise when you feel fingers pinch and tease your nipples. “Think you can take my cock?” You can’t help but laugh.
“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Once you’re certain Mary is sufficiently lubed up, you flip onto your stomach before rising to your hands and knees.
“I thought you were supposed to be ‘waiting until marriage’ tonight,” they say, shuffling up behind you on the bed. You roll your eyes, although you can’t help but laugh at his insistence that you stay in character.
“Ah, fuck! You’re right. Hold on a sec.” You clear your throat and muster up the most cliche porn-voice you can. “Oh, Mary,” you cry, wiggling your backside at him. “Won’t you please come and make love to my sweet virgin ass? It’s what God would want.” They shoot you a playful glare and lightly swat at one of your cheeks. Lining himself up with your entrance, his tip just barely puts pressure on your hole and yet you’re already mewling for him. You feel a hand on your upper back, gently massaging the flesh.
“You gotta relax for me, baby,” Mary breathes, starting to push himself inside you. It’s a challenge to do as they ask; every inch you take feels like ten and the pleasure is so intense it burns. The feeling of fullness when they finally bottom out is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. They’re completely rigid above you, and you know it’s taking them everything they have to not immediately start pounding into your ass. After what feels like an eternity of getting your bearings, you lean back onto Mary’s cock, silently begging him to start moving.
Who would they be if they didn’t immediately oblige? His thrusts start off slow, experimental, as if anticipating your discomfort. The friction against your inner walls makes you hiss, and for a moment, they halt entirely.
“Fuck,” you whine. “Don’t stop. It’s so fucking good.” Recognizing you’re not in (literally) gut wrenching pain, Mary picks back up. His pace is still slow, but that’s likely for his own sake rather than your comfort. Looking over your shoulder, you can’t help but moan when you see the way their face is scrunched up, teeth digging into their bottom lip as they fuck into you. A grin spreads across your face at the sight.
“Feel good? You- ah, fuck! You like breaking me in like this?” He nods, reaching around to start stroking your clit once again.
“You fucking bet. You’re so fucking tight. Holy shit, baby, I’m not gonna last like this.” You start rocking back into them, encouraging them to chase their release. They happily comply, swiping at your bud a little faster, and that pool of energy is already building up inside you again.
“Take it, slyna. Jag vet att du älskar den här kuken.” You haven’t a fucking clue what Mary is saying, but you’ve been with him long enough to know this means he’s barely holding on. At this rate, you’re not far behind.
“I bet you wish you could defile this pussy, too, Mare,” you taunt. They growl in response, thrusting into you hard.
“You have no fucking idea. If I ever meet the son of bitch who got that honor…”
“You’ll what? Kill him?” They huff out a laugh.
“I’ll shake his hand and buy him a beer.” The declaration has you falling over the edge; Mary doesn’t buy things for anyone unless he has to.
The fire in your belly has expanded to critical mass and you scream as your second orgasm of the evening tears through you. Wailing, your arms give out from under you and you collapse onto your chest. Mary groans as you clench around their cock, the last of their self control slipping away. They begin to pound into you wildly, working you through your climax as they come to the peak of their own pleasure.
“Fuck, that’s it, älskling. You take it so fucking good. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum- ah!” True to his word, you shiver as Mary finally finds purchase in the tightness of your ass, flooding you with his release. The two of you are in suspended animation for a moment after they finally come down, panting, shaking, and covered in sweat. When Mary pulls out of you, flopping down by your side on the bed, you slide down onto your stomach.
“I think I deserve an award for that performance,” you mumble into the pillow. You reach behind with one hand and fiddle with the clasp of the necklace. With Mary’s assistance, you’re eventually shoving it into the abyss of the bedside drawer where it belongs.
“I’ll let the Academy know,” they say with a laugh. After a bit of rummaging through the shit on the nightstand, you produce the remainder of a joint and a lighter. With well practiced precision, you light up and take a few hits before passing it to your lounging partner. The smell of smoke fills the small bedroom as you lie back down, this time on top of him. Now face to face, Mary takes a long drag and presses his open mouth to your lips. You inhale what they have to offer greedily, already relishing in the fuzziness that creeps into your mind. The two of you stay like this until only the roach remains, prompting you to roll off of Mary, landing on your back. It’s like the stretch of their cock is permanently seared into your muscles, and you groan as the added pressure, combined with the sensitivity of your high, serves as a reminder.
“Happy you got to destroy my ass, Goore?” They hum contentedly, turning onto their side and draping and arm across your body.
“You know I did,” he murmurs. “Kinda sad you don’t have any more holes for me to deflower, though.” The admission has you convulsing with laughter until your stomach hurts.
“Then maybe next time it’ll be your turn.”
#my writing#mary goore x reader#mary goore fic#repugnant band#honestly i have no explanation for this... just take it yall#mary goore
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As promised, here’s that list of people I will/won’t write for, and also my boundaries etc.
Will do:
Smut✅
Angst✅
Fluff✅
Some averagely kinky stuff✅
x reader fics✅
platonic ships & fics✅
sodomy✅
Queer fics (f character x f reader, m character x m reader etc, I will write for non binary readers too. Please specify the gender you want the reader to be when you request or I will default to non binary)✅
Won’t do:
R*pe/Non con❌
Adult x minor ❌ (no weird pedo shit)
Anything that glorifies or sexualises severe domestic abuse❌
Pregnancy fics (I can’t I’m sorry.)❌
Shit kinks💀 (come on now..)❌
Vomit kinks (why.)❌
Foot fetish related stuff❌
Incest❌
furry/zoophile shit❌
vore❌
eating disorder/self harm stuff (I know a lot of people originally used this as a coping mechanism but it eventually evolved into the romanticism of anorexia and self harm and I do not stand for that.)❌
Might do, depends on the request:
Ships between two real people (unless they’re an actual couple I will probably be against this)
People/bands I will write for:
AC/DC (all members)
Alestorm (all members)
Abbath (all members)
Alice In Chains (all members)
Abbath Doom Occulta
Bathory (all members)
Behemoth (all members)
Billy Idol
Björk
Black Sabbath (all members)
Bon Jovi (all members)
Burzum (all members but it’s just Varg so this goes without saying)
Cannibal Corpse (all members)
Carpathian Forest (all members)
Courtney Love
Celtic Frost (all members)
Darkthrone (all members)
Disturbed (all members)
The Doors (all members)
Dream Theater (all members)
Evanescence (all members)
Foo Fighters (all members)
Ghost/Ghost B.C. (all members)
Gloryhammer (all members)
God Seed (all members)
Gojira (all members)
Gorgoroth (all members)
Green Day (all members)
Hanoi Rocks (all members)
Helloween (all members)
Hole (all members)
Immortal (all members)
Iron Maiden (all members)
Joan Jett & The Blackhearts (all members)
Judas Priest (all members)
King Ov Hell
KoRn (all members except David Silveria)
Lamb Of God (all members)
Lana Del Rey
Limp Bizkit (all members)
Marilyn Manson/Marilyn Manson & The Spooky Kids (all members)
Mayhem (all members)
Megadeth (all members)
Metallica (all members)
Misfits (all members)
Morbid (all members)
Motörhead (all members)
Murderdolls (all members)
My Chemical Romance (all members except Bob)
Necrobutcher
Nickelback (all members)
Nirvana (all members)
Old Funeral (all members)
Ov Hell (all members)
Ozzy Osbourne
Pantera (all members)
Powerwolf (all members)
Pearl Jam (all members)
Queen (all members)
Rammstein (all members)
Rob Zombie
Repugnant (specifically Mary Goore)
Ronnie James Dio
Rotting Christ (all members)
Sabaton (all members)
Serj Tankian
Sirenia (all members)
Slaughter To Prevail (all members)
Slayer (all members)
System Of A Down (all members)
Type O Negative (all members)
Twisted Sister (all members)
Tool (all members)
Varg Vikernes
If there are any members I’ve excluded it is most likely because I fucking hate them. If you submit a request for someone and I refuse to do it then it’s either because: it makes me uncomfortable to write for said person especially if it’s smut, I don’t know enough about them to write a fic or I hate them. It’ll probably be one of those three reasons so please understand and respect that. If there’s someone/a band not on this list or the “won’t do” list, it doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t do them. I might have simply forgotten to add them so please ask.
I will also write for certain non-musicians such as historical figures and/or fictional characters. Give me a shout in requests and I may or may not be willing to write for them. As an example, I will write for Manfred and Lothar von Richthofen. Not musicians but I adore them.
People/bands I will NOT write for:
Any kpop bands.
Any actors/actresses
Deftones (there’s no negotiation. I will not write for Deftones. End of discussion.)
Blink-182 (same as Deftones)
Falling In Reverse (Same reason as Deftones)
Yungblud (come on now. Be serious. Be so for real.)
Panic! At The Disco (fuck no.)
The Beatles (no.)
Mötley Crüe (no❤️)
Tokio Hotel (nothing against them but no thanks)
One Direction (come on.)
C*rey Taylor/most of Slipknot. (I will write for Joey and Jay though, my pookies)
Mindless Self Indulgence (foul ass band I despise all of the members)
And when I said I won’t write a romantic fic between two real people I meant it. Platonic is more than okay, we love some platonic bandmate fluff but beyond that is a fat no unless they’re actually married/dating. So it goes without saying that I will NOT write Davisdurst, don’t even start. Do not.
- 𐕣𝕶𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𐕣
#black metal#abbath#death metal#doom metal#heavy metal#metal#metal music#metallica#norwegian black metal#nu metal#fanfic#fanfiction#x reader#system of a down#serj tankian#rammstein#ac/dc#alestorm#alex terrible#alice in chains#bathory#behemoth#billy idol#björk#black sabbath#bon jovi#burzum#cannibal corpse#carpathian forest
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Miasmaaaaa darling, do you have any recommendations on fics for a fellow enjoyer of ghouls?
Loves and kisses,
An enamored anon too shy to send from main
No need to hide, sweetheart. I only bite upon request. 💜
But yes, I have many recs! Mostly smut, but I see nothing wrong with that. Though please do keep in mind that I am into what could probably be called "the weird shit." There's all kinds of pairings (mostly ghouls) and content here. Of course, it goes without saying that you should ALWAYS check tags before reading anything. Below the cut because I can't make anything short!
@st-danger - Literally everything Saint has ever written is 10000/10. Their fics have given me at least four new kinks so far and countless orgasms, and no I am not shy about admitting that (you're welcome Saint). You can't miss with any of their work, but if I had to cherry pick I'd give you Metamorphose, Pinned Wings, Uphold with a Righteous Hand and the entire forcedfem series that starts with Let Your Eyes Delight in My Ways. But I mean it when I say you can't go wrong with a Saint piece.
@anotherghoul666 - Another person responsible for giving me new kinks and orgasms (thank you, Hukka). Their works are immersive, filled with world building and character study. Recommend everything, once again, but cherry picking This Could All Be Yours, Make My Blood Rush (Slow Down), Drought or Euphoria and A Loosened Heart (Corrodes the Shield). No smut in that last one, but some incredible hurt/comfort.
@streamghoul - Stream is insane and unhinged and incredibly talented. I cannot WAIT to get to know them better because D A M N. Recommend Floodwaters of Phlegethon, let no one lust for martyrdom, Whiplash and Epiphany (that one is Copia/Mary Goore).
@iamthecomet - Comet is rad and sweet as candy and you should read her entire ficlet collection right now because hhhhhh. Also Step by Errant Step, Bend My Desire and Astraphobia! And of course Born Under a Troubled Sign because who am I if not a member of the Unholy Trinity?
@kroas-adtam - Gotta complete the Trinity! I don't really have to tell you to read Death of Peace of Mind, do I? Also Water is Wet because spite is delicious.
@waywardsamaritan - They're pretty new here, but they're AMAZING. I read their first fic ever (!!), when i get my hands on you, and I still REFUSE to believe it was their first. It's SO good. All of their stuff is incredible, but it's a power trip sent me to another dimension.
@feralghxuls - They have some of the most unique ghoul headcanons I've come across, and they're great reads. Highly recommend Unholy is the Lust in Your Eyes, To the Hunter from the Prey, You'd Never Want It To Be Over and Devoured by Shadows.
@ratballet - They get a special shoutout because paper armor (Copia/Dew) was the first Ghost fic I ever read and what eventually led me to dive headfirst into fandom again! Also a huge fan of new sensations, sweet temptations, sweeter if you stay and aftershow.
The same place I learned to give in and Thunder only happens when it's raining by @ohvegeta - Incredibly good, special pieces of writing, these. Love them both very much.
There Is Beauty In The Way of Things by @ghostinthewires - Not smut, but it's gorgeous and everyone should read it.
Unholy Trinity by @forlorn-crows - Crow I know we only really talk about Mountain but I am SICK over this big boy sandwich fyi.
Butterfly Garden by @youhaveahomeinmyheart - Eli also writes some great smut, but like...I can't NOT recommend the only fic that has ever almost made me cry.
The Shining and The Light by @mibo-nin - This one gets regular re-reads for a reason.
Obviously by @shelterforananimal - Bro. BRO. Soft and sweet and SO hot.
Weekend Warriors by LifeasanNPC - This person only wrote a single piece of Ghost fic and I honestly think it may be one of the best out there. Full stop.
There ya go, an incomplete but extended list of recs! Hope you can find something to suit your fancy!
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I don't even have a request just everything for them fluff/smut/angst with a happy ending its just youre the only one writing for Repugnant and I love you for this ❤️
Some touching Repugnant headcanons
Mary Goore
Mary was a lonely kid.
Well, maybe not lonely, just alone. They grew up in an orphanage after being found in the trash as a baby. Ever the gender non-conforming, they never reacted to "he". It just never felt right so they never did that, merely looking at the person who called them that and then shrugging and walking off. They would wear dresses and skirts whenever they felt like it, starting at age five.
It never really mattered to them if they were bullied or mocked. As they were growing up, people always just... expected. So that's what they would always give. But, as long as they were out of the orphanage as much as possible, the caretakers were happier, since they were an extremely troubled child.
Since the age of twelve, Mary was a mall goth. A scrawny mall goth with long hair and heavy make-up that would sit in front of a Hot Topic and hiss at people. So naturally, they would get beaten up very often purely because of how they were. Because of how they looked.
Until one day, when they were fourteen, three certain teenagers noticed it and helped. G. pulled them aside to make sure they were okay while E. made the bullies back off (with DD yelling out slurs at them by his side). While they didn't become friends immediately, G. was stubborn enough to keep checking up on them almost daily.
And so, Mary Goore got eventually adopted to the friend group that would eventually become Repugnant.
DD Sars
DD loves having long hair.
When he was younger, he was always conflicted about it. He was always scrawny, tiny even, so when he was younger, he'd get bullied heavily, especially when his school bullies found out he was trans.
He felt like in order to be seen as a boy, he'd have to cut it short. But he hated that. He liked having long hair. But long hair was girly, so he'd keep messily cutting it short, which resulted in more bullying anyway, as well as his mother being even more abusive than she already was, yelling about her daughter changing.
And then he met G. in middle school. He met E. and Mary through G., and none of them made fun of him. Hell, G. even helped him even out his hair.
And as his hair started getting longer again, his new friends didn't bully him. His old bullies left him alone, since E. would manage to intimidate them with just his presence.
His hair was fine. He was allowed to have long hair and still be considered just as much of a dude by his friends. He could have long hair without being scared of other people's judgement.
And while it is a rare sight to see DD Sars genuinely smile instead of smirking or grinning like a little shit, he does sigh and smile softly, relaxing whenever his bandmates play with his hair.
G. Grotesque
G. is the heart and soul of the band.
He is the person who got everyone to meet in the first place. Originally, the group was just a bunch G.'s friends. He was the reason thy would hang out together. He was the person everyone liked first.
E. was originally G.'s friend. DD was originally G.'s friend. They only became friends themselves after hanging out with G. together for a few months.
Mary was also originally slowly befriended by G. and it took weeks before they started to hang out with the rest of the group. But they did and the four teens became best friends for over a decade now.
While obviously G. is no longer "necessary" for others to hang out, he is, without a doubt, incredibly important for the rest of the band. So much so that they would do anything for him.
G. is a very sensitive person. While when he was little, he was told he'd had to grow out of that, his friends allowed him to stay the man he was, supporting him and willing to protect him no matter what. Because his friends love him. And of course, he loves his friends just as much.
E. Forcas
E. never really had a friend growing up. He was a quiet kid raised by a single mom trying her best. And since he was little, he'd keep to himself, never really too good with words. He'd speak up when asked and that was it.
He would always be avoided by other kids. He was always big and rather quiet, just looking at people if he wasn't currently busy with his favorite Rubik's cube his mom got him for his sixth birthday. Long story short, he never really had friends. He didn't know how to make friends and no one really tried to become his friend.
Until one day in fourth grade he saw one of the kids from the parallel class getting bullied for crying about something. And E.'s mom raised him to never tolerate bullying, so he stood up for the kid, shoving the bullies away without really thinking much about it.
The next day, the same kid walked over to him during lunch break, offering him a muffin he baked with his parents. E. was confused, but grew to tolerate and like his new companion, who became his best friend over the years.
And that kid was, of course, G. Grotesque.
~
Written by Nosferatu.
Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @thermodynamic-comedian @vampyrolesbos
#ask#anonymouseyforthenight#repugnant#repugnant band#repugnant band x reader#mary goore#dd sars#g grotesque#e forcas#repugnant x reader#mary goore x reader#dd sars x reader#g grotesque x reader#e forcas x reader
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A dirty-ass prompt: getting down and dirty with Mary Goore in a cemetery 👀
okay so this is what i was trying-- second person, past tense, and timed.
disclaimer; i don't like this one. it didn't turn out how i liked but i'm getting itchy trying to fix it. i feel like i fucked up tenses somewhere, but i'm trying to force myself to try a new tense for me.
creampie mary, weehaw
It was the coldest night of the year when you walked into that shithole dive bar down the road from the Abbey, practically looking for trouble. You were still covered in snow from a freak early-November storm that had caught you on your way out to meet up with your best friend, and you distinctly remember the snow flakes drifting from your shoulders and head to land on the floor of the bar, already melting away. The bartenders eyes met yours in a moment that would have heated the snow off of the sidewalk if you were outside.
It seemed you'd met Trouble.
He was a little taller than you and about thirty shades heavier handed with his eye makeup. His pale arm waved you forward to the bar, gesturing at a seat until you hopped up into it and settled down, giving him a simple drink order. The small talk that he made was comfortable; practiced. He asked what you did and you vaguely mentioned the Abbey, and then asked the same of him, and he replied with the name of the dive bar. The bar's name was stupid, like a joke you'd forgotten the punchline of, or one that the author couldn't bother coming up with, and you found yourself wondering if his name was any better. You almost smiled when he introduced himself as "Mary Goore", your brain already looking for the pun.
Your drink appeared in front of you and he raised his own to meet your glass with a gentle clink. "To Lucifer."
"To Lucifer," you replied, eyebrows shooting up into your brow line. He had some prior knowledge of the Abbey, it seemed... or he was just a tool. You were willing to jump his bones, either way. The two of you sipped your drinks and talked more about the Abbey and how he had been to shows before, that you just must not have noticed him in the crowds of people that congregated in the big cathedral. That, or he had a great knack for making himself invisible.
Eventually he changed the subject, asking you how long you've been a member of the Abbey and how you were liking it, if you felt it was for you or not, what it was like to live on the premises, and before you knew it, the glass you'd been sipping was empty, and he was asking you if you wanted to go for a ride with him. You swirled the dregs of your glass as you thought it over, wrestling with yourself about the safety of the choice-- it was dark and snowing, you were most certainly at least buzzed, and Mary is a new person to you.
Your eyes met his again, a cool green, and he broke into a toothy grin. The laughter lines around his face were prominent, and something behind his eyes was enough for you to agree.
It was Mary.
A small duffle bag was retrieved from somewhere in the back room and the lights were flicked off as Mary yelled at the remaining people at the bar to fuck off out the door; he's locking up for the night. Judging by the way that the patrons move, this wasn't a new experience for them. A few people lightly protested but a death glare from Mary had them hurrying their pace as he slammed the door closed behind them. He took off his black apron, draping it over a stool as he turned to you and clapped his hands together sharply.
"So," he grinned, "you want a ride or what?"
His car was a simple vehicle-- a low sitting two-doored thing, with fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror and several bumper stickers. One of the stickers that had caught your eye said "Hella kids up in this bitch". When you made a comment about it, he had laughed and shrugged with one shoulder, motioning towards his balls.
The Abbey was on the other side of town from the dive bar, but somehow you and Mary arrived at the back doors before you could really process that you'd left. The ride over was filled with quiet ambient music from his stereo, and a rambling introduction from him that left you even more sure of your decision. He parked his car by the back door of the Abbey and turned to face you, slinging one arm over the back of his seat. The graveyard of Emeritus family lineage and the Siblings was visible over his shoulder, the snow on the graves melted from the heat of the nearby greenhouse.
"What?" you asked, your cheeks growing warmer with every second that passes.
"Nothin'," he countered with a shrug, "you're just hot." The smile that spread over his lips was wicked as he waited for your reaction.
"Are you hitting on me, Mary?"
He licked his lower lip with a nod before popping them together loudly, grinning. "Yup."
He didn't say anything more as you exited his vehicle, drumming your fingers along the hood of his car until you made it to his side. Mary's eyes were wide, watching you carefully until you leaned down and opened his car door, extending a hand to him.
"Enough small talk. Come rail me against a gravestone." Mary exhaled a bark of laughter, taking your hand with his left and turning off his car with the right.
You led him through the garden and around a hedge that opened up to reveal the more expensive crypts that dotted the square acreage of the Abbey. This was the most up-front and ridiculously blatant thing you'd ever done... but it was a thrill, wasn't it? His hand was still clasped in yours as you continued through the maze-like layout of the graveyard, passing stones and statues of Papa I and II and a few others you recognized until you arrived at an ornately carved stone angel. It was kneeling at a cross, hands clasped in prayer and face buried in the crook of their arm. You stopped and spun to face Mary, one hand already hiking up your dress.
Mary was grinning again as he pulled you closer to his body, pressing you up against the cool stone of the grave, his hands finally skating along your goose bumped skin. Your arm slid neatly around his shoulders, pulling him closer until his hips were slotted against yours perfectly. When your lips met it was electric, and Mary's shaky moan was enough to melt any remaining nerves you had. The sound of his jeans unzipping and boxers rustling was almost a relief. Your own dress was lifted up to your waist and pushed over your hips with ease.
"How are you gonna--?" He didn't bother answering you. Instead he lifted one of your legs around his hip, taking you by surprise as he hooked it behind him, allowing your foot to rest on his lower back. With his help you wrapped your legs around him as tightly as you could, leaning heavily on the statue behind you as his cock rubbed against the slickness between your lips. Your hand snaked down to grab him and hold him still as he lined up, teasing you for only a moment more before sinking deep into your heat.
"I catch on quick," he growled directly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
It wasn't the most comfortable position you'd ever been fucked in, but as Mary picked up a faster pace it felt less and less like the stone of the grave behind you was cutting into your skin and more like the heady mixture of pleasure and adrenaline you craved. His thrusts were rough but even and precise, the slapping sound of his hips against the back of your thighs almost drowned out by your shared heavy breathing. Mary's mouth was hot against your throat as he moaned, teeth sinking in lightly until he stopped at the juncture between your shoulder and neck to suck and bite at your flesh, making you cry out for him. Your body arched as he slammed into you, trying your best to move your hips in time with his to take him in even deeper, desperate for more of that feeling of being filled up.
"You going to cum for me?" he growled, his hands tightening on you where he held you aloft. You gasped in response, your cunt tightening around his cock as a sudden heat washed over you, spreading from your clit and up to the tips of your toes, the only response you could manage as he hit just the right spot over and over. Mary huffed out a breath of pleasure at the way that you tightened up around his dick, your orgasm causing you to involuntarily hold on tighter, nails digging into his skin through his thin shirt. "Cum all over my cock for me, babe. Fuuuck, you feel so fuckin' good."
"Mary--" Your voice was breathy as you felt another wave of your climax crash through you. The cool November night air around you did little to dampen the heat that Mary's body radiated or your own body heat, but it felt good, your sweat covered skin prickling with goosebumps. You managed to lift your head slightly, looking down to where you and Mary were joined. His jeans were open, cock sticking through the hole in the front of his boxers-- in fact, it seemed as though he wasn't even using the full length of his cock, pants bunched as they were.
"Fuckin- cunt, I'm gonna-" Mary cut himself off, mashing his lips against yours with a long and drawn out moan, hips kicking forward in time with the waves of his own climax. His teeth sank into your bottom lip and tugged, his breath coming in ragged pants and growls against you. When you were both sure you were finished, you carefully extricated your legs from their spot on Mary's hips, the two of you watching as he slowly slid out of you, leaving behind a warm trickle that ran down the insides of your thighs-- a hot reminder of your impulse decision. The sight made your face hot, but the look of pleasure on Mary's face when you made eye contact was worth it.
"Thanks for the ride," you said with a laugh, rubbing your hands along your thighs to warm up the muscle again. Mary snorted and dragged his hands across his face before looking at you. He waited for a beat before speaking.
"I haven't done something like that in years."
"I never have." You shrugged noncommittally, but Mary balked. "What? You were hot."
"So I'm your first, then? First one-night?" he corrected himself quickly. When you nodded he laughed again. "Look at you, making moves! But uh... I'm sorry to burst your bubble." Your eyes snapped to his, convincingly apologetic.
"What?"
"I uh.. Wouldn't mind if this wasn't a one night thing." Mary's hand went to the back of his head as he laughed shyly.
#the band ghost fics#the band ghost ficlet#ghost bc fanfic#lorraine writes#mary goore#repugnant#reader x mary goore
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𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Finding love through prayer, however indirect that may be, hadn't been on the agenda when you became a sibling of sin. However, life has a way of throwing surprises your way.
𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Prayer.
𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Rain x GN!Reader
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 No smut, this is just some good old fashioned sappy stuff. Don't get me wrong I love my smut, but I'm a sucker for sap and sentimentality.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1048 words.
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 Originally I was debating making this a Mary Goore fic and it was gonna be different to what it is, but then I realised that Rain just fit what I had in my head better. Also yes I know this is kinda corny but I don't care. Call me the Jolly Green Giant bc I'm full of corn. I did check this for pronouns and gendered terms but please let me know if I've missed any!
Ghouls don’t usually pray.
It was something you’d noticed a short while after becoming a sibling of sin and moving into the abbey. At first you thought that perhaps you just missed the times they were kneeling at the altar or in the pews, but when you started praying in the sermon room every day you realised that you weren’t simply praying at different times to them. They simply didn’t pray all that much. You supposed that it was down to the fact that they were demonic beings and probably had their own spaces for prayer in the underground dens. Besides, it was no big deal if they didn’t pray. You figured that it was different for them because they weren’t humans.
However, after a few weeks of living in the ministry and settling into a routine, you began to notice a pattern with one of the ghouls, Rain. It had been completely by accident, only realising what the routine was because you’d changed the time of day you would go to pray.
The evening was quiet in the abbey, particularly in the hour before all siblings were required to retire for the night. So, you decided to use that time for your daily prayers rather than using the afternoon. It meant you could spend longer in the library studying, leaving only for toilet breaks and dinner. This alteration in how you spent your day also meant that you prayed at the same time as Rain. Not that you realised it at first. The water ghoul was much quieter than his counterparts, save for Sunshine, to the point where even his footsteps made barely any sound at all. You only noticed he was there at the same time as you because you’d caught a glimpse of him leaving one evening and stopped him to say hello. He’d been bashful, his face darkening and flustered.
After that evening, the two of you gradually grew closer. It took a few months to break through his introverted exterior, offering him to kneel beside you every evening without fail. When you eventually wore him down, the two of you started to talk more. It wasn’t much at first, just trivial conversation, but it was something and it put a smile on your face. Over time, Rain became a little more talkative and you talked about things beyond the weather and the day’s events. You discovered his love of those YouTube videos of piano music with atmospheric storm sounds in the background, while the water ghoul found that you enjoyed the crisp crackling of the fireplace in the library. His favourite films were nature documentaries about sea creatures, whereas you were quite impartial to fantasy novels that you read by torchlight under the bed covers. He knew all the good hiding places to escape to when you needed some solitude, and you knew the best spots to watch lightning storms in the summer.
It was over a year after you both began to pray together that you realised your feelings towards Rain were more than platonic. You’d both gotten caught in a rainstorm, running back to the abbey building as quickly as you could, and he slipped and fell face first into the mud. You both ended up in fits of giggles, and it was once he was back on his feet, head tilted back to let the rainwater flood over him, that it hit you. Something about the way the mud and rain and his clothes clung to him, laughing joyously as he stood there, that the twist in your stomach was because you’d fallen in love with your friend. In that moment, you thought he was the most beautiful creature you’d ever seen. No, you knew he was.
Now, a few days later, you and Rain were once again kneeling at the altar together in silent prayer. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed in thought, but you couldn’t help looking over at him frequently. You couldn’t concentrate on praying, your mind occupied by the water ghoul at your side. You wondered what he prayed for each time he came here. What would any ghoul pray for? Did ghouls even need to pray? Never in all the time you’d knelt on the prayer cushions together had you asked him what he prayed to Satanas for. It wasn’t like you’d told him what you prayed for either, but as your body became acutely aware of his presence after the realisation of your feelings your curiosity grew.
“I don’t think looking at me will get your message across to our Dark Lord,” he murmured, his eyes remaining closed.
“Sorry,” you whispered, the tips of your ears growing warm. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
The ghoul chuckled and gazed at you with a dimpled smile. “Are you sure? You stare at me a lot.”
You gasped and lightly slapped his arm. “I do not! I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The two of you rose to your feet, Rain helping you up gently. You went to let go of his hand and gaped at him when he pressed a kiss to your palm.
“Quintessence and multi-ghouls aren’t the only ones attuned to people’s emotions. I get it.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. “You mean...?”
“I won’t tell anyone if that’s your concern. Your secret’s safe with me if you can keep a secret for me in return.” His free hand grasped your chin, tilting your head so that you were looking into his oceanic eyes.
“A secret?” You licked your lips, the feeling of your heart hammering against your ribcage so hard you were convinced Rain could hear it too.
And then, as you stared into one another’s eyes, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. There was no electric feeling or fireworks like in all those cliched romance books you’d borrowed from the library over the past year. Instead, you felt your body relax as you held onto his shirt. He let go of your chin to cup the back of your head, his forehead resting against yours as he broke the kiss.
“I love you too.”
You both grinned as you held each other with Satanas as your witness, the final dregs of sunlight filtering through colourful stained glass.
#ghosttober#ghosttober 2022#rain ghoul#rain x reader#rain x gn!reader#the band ghost#fanfic#my fanfic#mine
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