Hi! I’m Lurancy, my pronouns are she/her, and I’m a (late) 80s baby living in the UK.
My fics are for the Ghost fandom, and I also post NSFW content on my blog, so minors please DO NOT interact.
Also at lurancyvenom.bsky.social
Masterlist
An asterisk next to a fic indicates 18+ content.
A + indicates angst/sensitive themes.
As always, heed the tags and look after yourself.
Oneshots
*Not Yet…
(Dewdrop ghoul x Female Reader)
*Too Much, and Not Enough
(Terzo x Female Reader)
+Is It Really You?
(Terzo x Female Reader)
*Unholy Trinity
(Aether ghoul x Cirrus ghoulette x OC Bella)
*A Hidden Surprise
(Swiss ghoul x Female Reader)
*Right Under His Nose
(Terzo x GN Reader)
+Don’t You Know?
(Secondo x Female Reader)
*Tangled Up In You
(Nameless ghouls x Female Reader)
+The Hardest Goodbye
(Terzo x GN Reader)
The Chase
(Swiss ghoul x GN Reader)
*Sir
(Secondo x OC Lila)
Part of the Emerald series
*If I Have To Pull Over…
(Terzo x Female Reader)
+Devastation
(Papa Copia x Female Reader)
Barbed Wire
(Secondo x GN AFAB Reader)
+Acrimony
(Swiss ghoul x Female Reader)
Heatwave
(Secondo x Female Reader)
*One More?
(Aether x Sister of Sin)
+ Numb
(Secondo x Sister of Sin)
Comfort
(Mountain x GN Sibling of Sin)
+ Heartbreak
(Secondo x Prime Mover)
* Battery Drain
(Secondo x Reader)
+ Intrusion
(Secondo x Reader)
* Training Interruptus
(Secondo x OC)
* Unrequited
(Secondo x OC)
* If You Can’t Stand The Heat…
(Ghouls x Female Reader)
+ If You Won't Take Care of Yourself, Then Who Will?
(Terzo x Female Reader (platonic)
* Training Interruptus
(Secondo x Female Reader)
+ A (Violet) Light in the Dark
(Omega x GN Reader)
+ The Pact
(Terzo x Female Reader)
Multichapter fics
*The Lost and Mislead
(Aether Ghoul x OC Bella)
Status: Complete
*Nothing In This World
Sequel to The Lost and Mislead
(Aether ghoul x OC Bella)
Status: Complete
*Broken and Beloved
(Cardinal Copia x OC Allegra)
Status: Complete
*Seven Deadly Sins
(Secondo x OC Lila)
Part of the Emerald series
Status: Complete
Writing tag is #lurancy writes
List last updated: 20 February 2025
I had a Dunkin latte when I was visiting Massachusetts, and ended up having palpitations in a crafts store... My poor little English heart couldn't take it, so I dread to think what I'd be like on one of those fuckers!!
I love that the modern-day tumblr post equivalent of chain emails only requires me to reblog a relatively pleasant image instead of forward an email to a bunch of my friends and family members to quell my raging anxiety.
yeah yeah monsterfuckers but what about humanfuckers. what about the dragon who leaves flower arrangements at the base of the princess’ tower? what about the werewolf who pines for a human to protect? what about a naga who is so so cold and wishes she had a nice warm human to coil around? what then
A teaser first chapter for my latest WIP. Let me know what you think.
**Warning for domestic violence**
Grucifix divider by @gothdaddyissues
Chapter 1
Emmy
I need to get out.
He's going to kill me if I don't…
I sit at small, round table in the corner of the cafe. The hissing of the steam wand and the banging of the barista clearing the used coffee grounds from the portafilter are drowned out by the music playing in my headphones, and I tap my biro against the page in front of me.
Today is a rare day that I get some time to myself outside of the house. Dominic thinks I'm running errands in town, and technically I am. This cafe is just a pitstop between the post office and the supermarket, and I'm dragging it out as long as I can, making the most of the late September sunshine before the weather turns cold.
Spread out across the wooden table top, hiding the scratches and dents that marred its surface, are a number of printouts. Job advertisements I'd found on the computer in the library, each with red biro scrawled across it. I pick up the next one from the pile and, taking a deep swallow of my black coffee (not my favourite, but it's cheap) I take in the details of the advertisement.
"Personal Assistant Required
Required to support with clerical tasks and event planning for a religious facility located in Salem, Massachusetts.
Live-in role, salary negotiable.
Applications to be submitted to [email protected] by October 1st 2024, complete with resumé and proof of identity."
Underneath was a list of required skills, all of which I could tick off through experience from one job or another, so I pulled out my phone and began drafting my application.
Continue reading under the cut.
…
Two hours later, I'm stumbling through the front door, weighed down with bags of shopping and struggling to keep ahold of my keys. Once over the threshold, I lower the bags to the floor and flex my painful fingers - yes, I'm one of those people who refuses to do multiple trips when getting shopping from the car. Sue me.
I take a quick glance at the clock in the hall. Another hour before Dominic leaves work. Plenty of time to put the shopping away and make a start on dinner so that it's ready for when he gets home. Locking the door behind me and gathering the bags, I bustle through to the kitchen, but I almost drop everything again when I find Dominic standing at the kitchen island, his back to me and his hands gripping the edge of the countertop.
"Where have you been?"
His voice is a low rumble, and my blood turns to ice as he turns his head slightly to regard me out of the corner of his eye. Oh fuck…
"Just in town," I say, forcing the tremor out of my voice. "I had to go to the post office to send that form off for you, and then I went to get the food shopping…"
"Stop off anywhere else? Spend any of my money?"
Shit
I start loading the food into the fridge and freezer, taking care not to crush any of his things. "I-I just stopped off at the cafe for a drink. I just got a filter coffee, it was cheap, and I'll give you the money ba-"
Before I can brace, Dominic has whirled round and pinned me to the wall by my wrist, my fingers still clasped around the neck of a bottle of milk. I swallow the cry that threatens to fall from my lips. It'll only make it worse…
"And who did you speak to while you had your little coffee?" he hisses, his teeth clenched and fury in his eyes.
"Nobody!" I gasp, fighting to maintain my grip on the bottle neck. "I swear!"
His other hand came up across my throat, his palm against my windpipe and thumb and fingers pressed into my carotid arteries, slowing my blood flow and making stars spark across my vision. He all but lifts me off of my feet, my toes scuffling against the floor as I'm pinned up by his 6 foot 2 frame. "You better not have, Em. Because if I find out you uttered anything more than your coffee order, your life isn't going to be worth living."
It's barely worth living right now…
"I promise," I whisper, clawing down the tiniest breaths and fighting to stay conscious. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Dominic releases me and I resist the urge to let my hand fly up to soothe my throat. He stalks away to the lounge, and I put the milk in the fridge with trembling fingers.
…
It's late. I don't know what time, but Dominic has finally fallen asleep on the sofa, with his 4th beer of the evening, and at last I can stop pretending to clean the kitchen and head to bed. I creep up the carpeted stairs, avoiding the one creaky step, and tiptoe into the bedroom. Skirting round to my side of the bed, I get to my knees and feel around the edge of the carpet, pulling up the small section that I've loosened so that I can access the floorboard.
Easing the loose plank of wood up, I reach down and to the left, and pull out a small black clutch. Inside is a cheap mobile phone. Reaching into my bra, I pull out a bank card and tuck it inside next to the phone before returning it to its hiding spot and securing the floorboard and carpet back over the top.
I'm completely fucked if he ever finds this, but for now that little bag holds everything I need to get away.
Over the last year, I've been squirrelling away small amounts of money here and there, from the grocery allowance Dominic gives me, from selling things that wouldn't be missed (mostly my things - books, clothes, my tiny amount of jewellery), even picking up coins on the street. All to create a pot of money to help me leave and find somewhere safe. When the bags of coins began filling the space beneath the floorboards, I opened a bank account. I remember that day vividly - sitting in a side room in the local bank branch, shaking like a leaf, certain that Dominic would track me down.
I'd spoken with the most lovely advisor, who had assured me the branch was a safe space, and they would help me. I'd learned that what Dominic was doing - withholding all money from me - was financial abuse, and the advisor helped me to set up an account where any letters would be delivered to the bank branch, and they wouldn't send anything to my home address to tip Dominic off.
I left there after my appointment £500 worth of coins lighter and with a new sense of hope. Now, my balance was closer to £2,000, and I had the mobile banking app on my hidden mobile so I could, for the first time in two years, manage my own money.
I've also been packing. Taking clothes a little at a time and leaving them with my friend, Beth. She has a holdall of my clothes at her flat, along with my passport (which Dominic doesn't even know exists), and we have a plan for when I can finally leave.
I just need an excuse.
…
Dominic has just left for work, and I can relax just a fraction. I make myself a coffee and perch on the edge of the sofa with my phone, scrolling through my notifications. There aren't many, because Dominic doesn't let me have social media, and I don't have any family or friends, save for Beth.
My inbox is cluttered with the usual multitude of spam emails, and I'm so intent on clearing them out I almost miss it.
SENDER: Fr. Imperator
SUBJ: OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT
My heart leaps into my throat, and I almost swipe the email away in my rush to open it. Fumbling across the screen, my gaze flickers over the text.
"Dear Miss Parker,
I am pleased to offer you the role of Personal Assistant to the senior clergy.
I note that you are currently residing in the UK. We can arrange for an electronic visa to be applied to your passport should you wish to accept the role."
The email went on to explain the process if I chose to take the role (of course!), and the salary (anything is better than my pitiful allowance right now).
What it didn't do was answer my questions as to how the hell they chose to hire me without an interview, but I fired back an email thanking who I assumed was Father Imperator for the offer, and giddily accepting. In under five minutes, I had an email back with details of my start date, along with a digital plane ticket and assurances that a visa would be applied to my passport by the time I got to the airport…in two days time!
Oh shit!
Everything was a flurry of activity from then on. I needed to plan. Dominic would never let me go willingly, so I needed to figure something out. And I needed to get my clothes from Beth.
I finally had a light at the end of the tunnel, and I was not going to let that fucker put it out.
…
"I'm sorry, Dom, I just don't feel right."
He eyes me suspiciously. Despite showing him the text message from the doctors surgery confirming my appointment that morning, he's still dubious about letting me go out. The bruises on my wrist and throat are still visible from where he pinned me to the wall, and he never lets me out in public until they are gone.
"I'll wear a turtleneck," I offer, drawing my dressing gown closed over my collarbones. He grunts.
"Fine. But I'll be watching."
One of his favourite threats. I knew he had put a tracker in my car, but I was too terrified to remove it, and he checked it regularly. But it was only an AirTag, and I could easily discard it (if I ever grew some balls).
"And who knows," he continued, suddenly very interested in the dregs of his coffee. Maybe you're finally going to give me the kid you were always talking about."
I offer a small smile. Little does he know I already had my tubes completely removed a few months ago, under the guise of having my appendix out (at least that's what I told him, not that he ever looked at me enough to notice position of the scars, nor did he care). there was zero chance I was going to let him force me to bring a child into this situation. One that he could either use to control me, or worse, one he could treat the same way he treated me.
He waves me off, wordlessly permitting me to go and get ready. I shower quickly, and true to my word, I pull on a long sleeve burgundy turtleneck, along with a floor length black skirt with black tights, stripy socks, and black suede ankle boots underneath.
I don't wear any make up. He'll be immediately suspicious if he sees so much as a whisper of mascara. But I do collect my phone and bank card from their hiding place under the floorboards and tuck them into my socks, securing them in place under the tops of my boots.
I quickly pile my auburn hair into a bun, scrub my toothbrush over my teeth and tongue, and head back downstairs. He's waiting in the kitchen, leaning back against the kitchen island and typing a message on his phone.
I walk in quietly, the way that one might enter the enclosure of a man-eating tiger, and collect my bag off of the dining table.
"Dressed up a bit for a doctors appointment," he rumbles, and I flinch. "Why are you wearing a skirt?"
I swallow, and turn to face him with a strained smile. "Well, they might need to check me, if we are going to have a baby…"
He grunts again. I swear this man can barely string a full conversation together. I can almost see the cogs working in his skull, trying to remember if I would have any bruises hidden under that skirt that the doctor might see. I do, but I hope he won't remember.
When he stands upright and pockets his phone, I take that as his sign off on the outfit, and make my way to the door to grab my coat and keys. As I turn back to say goodbye, he's right behind me, and I startle, my hand flying to my chest. Then, to my surprise, he leans forward, presses a kiss to the crown of my head, and whispers "I hope it is a baby…"
Then he's gone. I hear his truck rumble to life, and his tyres as they crackle and pop out of the driveway.
What the actual fuck…?
I follow out of the front door, closing and locking it behind me, and head to my car, still a little shaken at the rare show of affection from Dominic. I began thinking that maybe he'd change if I was pregnant, maybe things could get better.
A pity that's a physical impossibility now. And besides, he's had plenty of time to change. I settle in the drivers seat and put my seatbelt on before taking a moment to look up at my home for what I hope will be the last time. It's a nice house. A relatively new build, with red brick and white windows, and a cheery yellow front door.
Just a shame that the lives inside that closed door weren't as cheery.
As I make my way to the doctors surgery, I see it. Dominic's dark blue truck. Tucked into a side road, waiting. I knew there was a chance he could follow me, but I didn't think he'd bother, given the fact he's still got the tracker in my little Ford Fiesta. I keep my eyes ahead, pretending I haven't seen him, and he slips onto the main road behind me, following a few car lengths back.
Oh yeah, super stealthy, Dominic…
My heart hammers in my chest as I drive to the surgery. I know I'm going exactly where I said I was, but what if he wants to come in? What if he follows me into the surgery and finds out my appointment never existed? My palms grow slick against the worn leather of the steering wheel, and I swallow back the bile gathering at the back of my throat.
I put my indicator on, signalling left, and turn slowly into the surgery car park and into an empty space near the entrance. He parks further back, under a tree, and cuts his engine. I try to act normal, seemingly completely unaware of his presence as I grab my bag and climb out of the car.
Locking the door, I risk a peek over at his truck. He's still sitting inside, his head lowered as he probably uses his phone. No signs of him moving yet. I head inside, clutching my bag handles so tight the leather squeaks and my knuckles blanche.
As I reach the reception desk, I relax slightly. My friend Beth is behind the desk, and she stands up and reaches for my hands. I place them in hers and she gives them a squeeze. "Alright, sweets?"
"He's outside," I whisper, eyes darting to the entrance and back, and Beth immediately turns to pull up the CCTV on the screen mounted on the side wall. Flicking through the camera views, she stops when she spots Dominic's blue work truck, still right where I left it.
"It's okay," Beth soothes, turning back to me. "We'll watch and wait, and hopefully he'll leave once he knows you're definitely inside."
I nod, transfixed by the screen. Five minutes pass, then ten, before his truck finally starts up again and he rolls out of the car park. I must have been holding my breath because at the sight of his tail lights pulling out onto the road, a massive sigh whooshed out of my lungs. Beth turned to me, grinning. She'd been watching too while on the phone to patients, and the relief rolling from both of us was palpable.
I waited, still staring at the screen to see if he came back while Beth finished up her call. Finally, she hung up, and hurried across the reception area to grab something from under the desk.
My duffle bag.
Hoisting it up and pressing it into my hands, she gave me a sad smile.
"I'm so sorry to see you leave," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. There was suddenly a rock in my throat, and I fought to swallow around it. "But I'm so glad you're finally getting away from him."
"Thank you," I croak, tears now freely falling down my cheeks. I'm so glad of the empty waiting room at this moment, to not have to hide my emotions from prying eyes as I say goodbye to my only friend, my lifeline in all this. "Thank you for everything. It could have been so dangerous for you, but I'm so glad I had you."
Squeezing my shoulders, Beth sniffles. "Passport's in the front pocket, sweets. Now go, and don't miss that bloody flight!"
I give a quick nod, then wipe my eyes before taking a final cautionary glance at the CCTV monitor and hurrying into back to my car. I shove my duffle bag into the back seat then swing the driver's door wide open and drop to my knees right there on the tarmac. Fumbling around under the seat, my fingers find the smooth plastic casing of the tracker, and I pull it out from its "hiding place". I turn it over in my hand for a moment, marvelling at how much control one little piece of technology could have over me, before tossing it into the bushes beside the surgery.
As far as Dominic knew, if he looked at the location app, I was still right where I should be, but in reality, I would be long gone, speeding down the motorway toward the airport, and my new life.
Primo: Facebook (fucking boomer). Just because it's the most used doesn't mean it's regularly used. Mostly uses it to keep his congestion up to date on events and black mass schedule changes. Doesn't know what a meme is and doesn't care. Isn't friends with anyone.
Secondo: Snapchat. Again just because it's the most used doesn't mean he regularly used it. Doesn't maintain streaks. Really only used it during the height of it popularity because it was the easiest way to get into contact with the sisters.
Terzo: Instagram. Uses it all the time. So many selfies. Hates reels. Think Instagram thot model. Posted his "tasteful nudes" once. The Clergy made him take the post down. Follows everyone in the ministry but doesn't look at any of their posts.
Copia: A tie between Vine and Twitter. He used Vine until it got deleted and left Twitter after (redacted) bought it. Only references old Vine memes. Liked messing with people on Twitter. After he left those two he stopped using social media all together.
Perpetua: TikTok. The ghouls put it on his phone as a joke but they had to delete it when he was almost late to a show because he was scrolling, trying to absorb every bit of human information he could. Now the ghouls occasionally show him only 'the good stuff' but not more than one or two at a time because if it's more than that his pupils dilate and he stops blinking.
