When your injured friend Stolas sends you on an errand to the Wrath ring, you meet a roguish imp who offers to work as your body guard during your time there. Taking place after the events of the season 2 episode "Western Energy". A she-fell-first-he-fell-harder Striker x Fem!Reader romance. Rankings: #1 - Striker #1 - StrikerxReader #1 - HazbinHotel #1 - Wrath #1 - HelluvaBossStriker #1 - Western Author's Note: This story contains explicit sexual content and strong themes that may be disturbing or troubling to some readers. Please proceed with caution, readers 18 years or older. I do not own the character Striker (unfortunately) or Helluva Boss. Helluva Boss and its original characters are the intellectual property of Vivienne Medrano.

TL;DR- Rain falls head over heels for you. Long slow burn, fluff, and incredible angst ensues. Eventual happy ending included. Love was not something you or Rain ever understood, whether it be between mother and father, between friends and peers, or between you and the universe. After being shunned by your church for reasons you were not the blame for, a church of the antichrist extended their kindness to help a lost soul. Rain was in the same bin as you, and having to heal from the trauma and abuse you had both suffered in your lives was not a one-day process. But with your new found friends, Papa Emeritus III as your best friend and mentor, the ghouls accepting you in their lives, your new job in the clergy, and a quickly developing romantic relationship with the shy bassist, your lives become a lot more happy than they ever were before.

After being betrayed by your family and losing your job, you leave your faith in the holy church behind and find yourself diving headfirst into a mysterious commune, residing in the Emeritus manor as a cook and housekeeper. Living under Papa Emeritus IV with his Ghouls is a strange lifestyle to get used to, but it could be the safe haven you had been looking for. Is Papa the one you needed in your life this whole time? Disclaimer: My depictions of Papa and the Ghouls are purely fictional and have nothing to do with the band itself. There are some references to other media that are also unrelated. The photography in this story does NOT belong to me! 8/17/23 I'm gonna start this with a big thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this story, I currently don't have the patience or motivation to continue this... Any updates will be on my announcement page on my profile. -naenaebaby

"I'll read it out for you." Anne said, handing the cigarette back to you. "Wanted; for breaking and entering and robbery. Unknown bandit seen leaping from a window of a bank in Kempton, may be walking with a limp from the fall. Suspected to be about 5'8" and stocky build. Should any leads arise please contact local authorities." --- You hadn't even seen him there, obscured in the darkness of night - and it was obvious that he hadn't been expecting anyone to come out back. He startled, stumbling away from where he had been leaning, and your heart leapt into your throat, surprised in the worst way possible. So surprised, that you threw the bag of vegetable scraps at him as a form of self defense. The bag bounced harmlessly against the man's chest and landed on the ground. Your eyes darted to it first, but then up to the man you had thrown it at - taking in his features from the light streaming out of the still-open door. He wasn't too tall, but he had the build of someone who had known a farm life before - broad shoulders and muscle made for work, not show. His clothes were practical, and he carried a pack strapped to his back. It was his face that was the most interesting though - he couldn't have been much older than you, and he looked kind, for lack of a better word. Open, almost.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 1 --- Tacenda; pl (plural only): Things that are not to be spoken about or made public. Things that are best left unsaid. --- He was unlike anyone else you had seen before. There was a certain confidence about him that drew everyone's eye. His hair was tied back into a messy plait, but it was the color that was the most striking, a bright pink that contrasted the dark red and black of his robes. His face was mostly obscured by the mask of his people, but you could just make out the shape of his jaw and a flash of sharp teeth when he smiled. He was dangerous - but he was magnetic.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 2 --- Versailles (proper noun). The argument over the etymology of Versailles tends to privilege the Latin word 'versare', meaning "to keep turning, turn over and over", an expression used in medieval times for plowed lands, cleared lands (lands that had been repeatedly "turned over"). --- He wasn't like any endermen you had seen before - probably because he wasn't fully an enderman. He was tall like an enderman, but that was where the similarity ended. He was split down the middle - half of his skin the same inky black as the twins, the other half a radiant white. His eyes didn't match either - one blood red and the other emerald green. His hair fell in soft waves, almost obscuring his eyes at times, and he kept his head tilted down, his sharp jawline on display. He seemed timid, but that might have just been the situation - anyone behind bars would likely hang their head.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 3 --- Hiraeth (Welsh pronunciation: [hɪraɨ̯θ, hiːrai̯θ]) is a Welsh word for longing or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that no longer exists or never was. A deep and irrational bond felt with a time, era, place or person. --- You were close enough that you could see the crew scurrying about on deck now. They looked as ragged as the ship - no sense of unity about them other than that they were all standing on deck together, swords brandished as you approached. You scanned over them and felt suddenly grateful for your sailing uniform - some of those pirates didn't even have shoes. Simon strode the deck, scanning through the ranks for the captain of the Ghost. You had been given some indication as to what she looked like, but when she parted herself from the ranks of her crew, you weren't quite ready for what she actually looked like. They didn't do her justice on the wanted posters back home. She was short, but powerfully built. You could see ram horns sticking out from underneath her extravagant hat, and her coat was a bright blood red - the gold trim faded somewhat. You were most focused on her hair though - pure white and absolutely massive, it looked like a cloud around her head. Stern eyes finished the look, and you couldn't help but be a little bit entranced - this was the kind of person that people were scared to make eye contact with. Simon didn't seem all that frightened when he came to stand on the edge of your own deck, facing her over the narrow strip of sea that separated you - and you were grateful. If you were captain, you didn't know if you would be able to look her in the eye.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 4 --- Gladius, (noun): (in ancient Rome) a short sword. --- Eret perked up as soon as you and Simon walked into the room, a wide and welcoming smile coming onto his face. He was softer looking than his father had been, but you could still see some of the similar traits. He had a head of thick dark curls, and the same sharp jaw that his father had had. He wasn't as bulky though - he was tall and thin - and his face was a lot more open. What separated him most from his father's likeness though was the colorful cape, and the large mirrored glasses he wore - swirling with colors reflected from the room. He stood from his seat when Maven let the doors swing shut behind her, that wide smile still on his face. "You must be the embassy." "And you must be King Eret." You said, stooping into a bow. "Oh, there's no need for that." Eret said as you rose from your bow. He stepped down from the dias where his throne sat - colorful cape trailing behind him - and came to stand in front of you, taking your hand instead. "I'm not really one for formalities." He grinned, shaking your hand. His palm was warm against yours, and you could feel some slight callouses - most likely from practicing his sword work.

24 new emails looked back at you from the screen. You could feel the headache setting in, but you opened your email anyway, looking through the new messages. Two from your statistics professor, about a new assignment, another one from the RA in the dorm building, one from the admissions office, about your application to the study abroad program, one from your American history professor- Hold the phone. You rapidly clicked on the email from the admissions office, scanning through the paragraphs. Reviewing your application to the program... taking into account your grades and your major... looking at schools in the area... pleased to say we can accept you into the program. Accepted. Part of you had forgotten that you had applied in the first place; it had been months ago back at the end of last semester, and then you had gone home for the summer and put it behind you. But being back at school had brought it to the forefront of your mind again. This was great. You had needed some good news today. Turning up the music, you danced out of your desk chair and jumped around the room a little, excited. You were going to Mexico for a semester. You could already picture it now - warm weather, good food, and firsthand experience speaking Spanish for at least six months, maybe more. Not to mention all the adventures you could have in a foreign country. This would be something you would remember for years, and just thinking about it made your day better.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK FIVE ---- Tryst (noun): a private romantic rendezvous between lovers, "a moonlight tryst". ---- Your eyes drifted upwards catching onto the glint of the sword that had saved you and following the curve of the blade upwards until you came to a knarled hand, with dirt under the fingernails. You followed the arm upwards until you reached his face - partly obscured underneath a green and white striped hat. You were able to catch onto blue eyes and the scruff of a beard underneath a mop of blonde hair though. What drew your attention most though, was the crow's wings behind him, flared out and glinting by the light of the sword. You hadn't even heard him swoop down for the approach. For someone who hadn't been seen in over a century, the Angel of Death looked young... too young. But then he was spinning away, wings flapping behind him so that he hovered over the ground as he sliced through anything that came too close for comfort. Even the skeletons a ways away weren't safe from his flames when their zombie counterparts came staggering too close. Soon enough, the dark forest was alight with burning undead creatures, providing a light source for you to stagger up to your feet as the Angel slid his sword back into it's scabbard. You weren't expecting him to round on you like he did, fire in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"