#mushie ficlets

[mushiewrites]

Day 3 - Cuddles

this lil group was requested by @elliot-tword (find the ask here)! this is actually inspired by an ask that actually was sent by elliot (here) and a concept post I made a while back (here), just with our lil dreamie as the lee this time <3 thank you so much elliot for the request! I hope u all enjoy :3

tickletober prompts here 🎃

(lee!Dream / ler!George / ler!Sapnap : 858 words)

“Are you sure it was okay?” Dream asked quietly, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he picked at the loose threads protruding from the couch in the living room, sat in the middle of his two best friends. George and Sapnap exchanged nervous glances, both looking worried as they crowded closer to Dream. 

“What do you mean? Of course it was okay.” Sapnap pressed the right side of his body against Dreams, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leaning back against Dream’s own left arm. George followed on the opposite side, chiming in himself. 

“It was more than okay, Dream. It was incredible.” 

“I feel like I looked awkward in all the clips I’ve seen…” Dream trailed off, adjusting himself and allowing his body to relax back into the couch and against the other two, letting his head lull to the side until it rested against Sapnap’s shoulder. George let his arm rest over Sapnap’s behind Dream’s head, rubbing at Sapnap’s shoulder before running his hand through Dream’s messy curls. 

“It’s gonna look like that to you, it was your first show! Your first time performing! No one is expecting you to be perfect, baby.” George spoke gently, watching fondly as Dream let his head fall back further as he leaned into George’s hand. The blonde let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and sliding deeper down into the couch. 

“Yeah I guess you’re right. I just don’t wanna look stupid, you know?” Dream replied after a few seconds, earning nods from both of his friends. Sapnap used his free hand to reach across his own body, letting the back of his hand rub gently over Dream’s cheek, his thumb rubbing the softer spot under his eye. He flinched at the sudden contact, a tiny squeak escaping him before relaxing back into the touch. 

George flashed Sapnap a smirk, making the youngest boy tilt his head slightly in confusion, but keeping his mouth shut as his curiosity got the best of him. George held up the hand that wasn’t currently buried in Dream’s hair and wiggled his fingers, holding back a giggle as Sapnap’s eyes widened. 

“You didn’t look stupid, Dream,” George began, trying to hide the smile that was evident in his voice. “You might look stupid now, though.” 

“Wh- George! Nohoho no! Don’t!” Dream’s question was interrupted when two hands suddenly appeared on his sides, squeezing up and down his ribcage and going down towards his hips. He squealed frantically, trying to pull his arms out from behind George and Sapnap to protect himself but finding them both stuck. 

“You’re right, George. He does look stupid,” Sapnap commented, spidering his hand up Dream’s side before wiggling his fingers over the poor boy’s tummy. “Stupidly cute.” 

“Oh shuhut up!” Dream complained, throwing his head to the side and hiding in the curve of Sapnap’s neck. They giggled along with him, loving the way that Dream was stuck in place, in the middle of their cuddle pile. 

“Shut up? He complimented you, Dream. That’s not very nice of you.” George followed suit, gently fluttering his fingers over Dream’s very sensitive lower tummy, making him buck his hips up with another squeal. 

“Nohoho please! Please I’m- Sahahpnap I’m sorry! Please!” Dream pleaded, giving Sapnap the biggest puppy eyes through his laughter. Sapnap could see the tears beginning to form at the sides of his eyes despite the tickles being soft, letting him know that he was a little bit further gone than both boys initially thought. 

Sapnap slowed his hand to a stop, gripping George’s and pulling it away to allow Dream some air to breathe. He cuddled into Dream, bringing a hand up to cradle the blonde’s head against his chest, Dream’s arms still trapped behind the two. George rolled his eyes at how easily Sapnap caved but again followed his actions, leaning against Dream and wrapping an arm around his neck, placing a soft kiss against his temple. 

“You know we love you so much, right? And we’re so proud of you, Dreamie.” Sapnap whispered, smiling and leaning his head against the top of Dream’s when he felt the blonde nod, along with a tiny hum of agreement. 

“Good. ‘Cause it’s true.” George spoke up, cuddling the two closer and letting his eyes closed, the calm atmosphere making him sleepy. 

“...You don’t have to stop, you know. If you don’t want to.” Dream commented after a while, staying hidden against Sapnap, embarrassed at what he was suggesting. George lifted his head and shot Sapnap a smirk, both boys immediately acting on his shy request. Sapnap let his hand gently flutter against the side of Dream’s neck while George let his fingers explore around his tummy, careful to not use too much pressure to keep him sleepy and relaxed.

The trio cuddled together like that for the rest of the night, with George and Sapnap gently praising Dream here and there through his giggles, letting him know how much they adore him. Eventually, they fell asleep together in the comfiest cuddle pile, wrapped up in the coziest blankets, with the cutest little smiles on their faces.

#lee!dream #ler!george #ler!sapnap #the softest lil guys #i love them sm #this was the cutest request elliot omg #thank u again ): <3 #mushie ficlets #mcyt tickle #my stuff #augtickletober2023 #tickletober

[artiststarme]

Eddie loved to read. He enjoyed immersing himself in books, letting the stories wash over him, and escaping his own reality for the imaginations of another. He adopted new personas and became someone else as he skimmed every word. He put himself in the shoes of people he could only dream of and let their lives replace the problems in his.

On the other hand, Steve hated reading. He sat alone for hours staring at words without meaning with letters that floated through paper and dripped from the pages. He couldn’t derive any knowledge from books nor could he enjoy the lives of the characters or the storylines of novels. As soon as the wretched piece of paper flipped, whatever contents were on it were swiped from his memory. He never understood the literary importance of any book much less hidden meanings somehow woven into the pages that the English teachers talked about.

After escaping the talons of both Vecna and the mob out for blood, the boys were left with too much time and too little to do. No one wanted to hire someone that associated with the town’s not-so-secret-teen-killer and on the off chance that they went into public, they were persecuted by their peers.

To deal with the boredom, loneliness, and restlessness alike, Eddie turned to reading. He would dive right into the words like Steve had dived into Lover’s Lake. He would adopt the lives of the characters and pretend that maybe his life wasn’t so bad after all.

Steve watched Eddie flip each page, a look of innocent wonder on his face and a hopeful smile on his lips. They couldn’t do book club or share notes on what was being read but Steve could still follow the emotion of the story through Eddie’s expressions and the trace of a finger along his jumping pulse. Eventually, Eddie would read aloud. He’d keep Steve entranced in the story with his raspy voice combing through every word. Sometimes he’s stumble, his eyes moving faster than his mouth could speak, but it was still the most satisfying thing Steve had ever heard.

On a random Thursday when they finally finish the book, Steve holds Eddie’s face in his hands and delicately kisses his lips for the first time.

“Maybe now it’s time we start our own story, Eds.”

And so they do.

#their favorite activity is sitting on the couch or laying in bed with Eddie reading and Steve dozing off #(I’m asexual and it shows lol) #the rest of the Party find it disgustingly mushy #however Steve and Eddie ignore them like they always do and make an even bigger effort to read in front of them #Eddie even starts reading the horrific romance books old ladies read to really piss them off #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson

[everybodyshusband]

teaching a skill

mushy may ; day twenty two !! (approx. 860 words)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

Aeon flops down dramatically onto the couch, only narrowly avoiding clocking his head on Mountain’s blanket-covered hip bone. “I’m so bored.”

Mountain hums. “Want to sit with me and read, bug? You can come under the blanket with me,” he sing-songs.

“Nooo,” Aeon moans. “I’m so hungry I can’t focus on anything which makes me bored but I can’t do anything because I’m hungry.” He glances up at Mountain and whacks his shoulder when he sees the earth ghoul smirking. “Don’t laugh at me, Mounty, I’m dying.”

Mountain sighs and puts his book down. “You wanna help me cook something then? I was going to make brownies later but I can make them now to give you something to snack on.”

“Please!” Aeon practically yells. “I’m gonna starve to death…”

“Come on. Up you get, buggy.” Mountain stands up and holds his hands out, pulling Aeon to his feet and leading him over to the kitchen. Aeon stands and watches as Mountain opens up drawers and cupboards, pulling out bowls, measuring cups, assorted ingredients and his old beat-up recipe book. “Alright, all we have to do is follow this recipe and then in about an hour, we’ll have some delicious brownies for you to eat. Are you ready?”

Aeon nods but… “I’ve never baked anything before, I– I don’t really know how to do it.”

“Hey, that’s alright,” Mountain assures him. “I’ll help you. I’ll set up the scales for you while you have a flick through the book and find the brownie recipe. I’ll be under the sweets category.”

Aeon shoots him a thumbs up and picks up the book. It’s one that Mountain has compiled himself from magazine cutouts and handwritten recipes, some passed down from the ghouls that came before him and some new creations from the earth ghoul’s own mind. By the time he’s located the brownie recipe, Mountain has set up the scales and is already beginning to measure out the flour; it’s no surprise to Aeon that Mountain remembers the measurements by heart, brownies are a once a week occurrence at least in their pack.

“Ah, perfect, thanks, Ae. Do you want to take over from here? I’ll be here helping the whole time.”

Aeon nods. “Yeah, sure. Thank you, Mounty.”

He gets a pat on the back and a kiss on the top of his head in response. “You’re welcome, bug. Now c’mon, Dew messaged and asked if I could make him something to eat. Lazy bastard doesn’t want to lift a finger and bake them himself even after I told him he could do it himself if he wanted them that badly.” Aeon turns to Mountain, eyebrow raised. “Fine,” the earth ghoul relents. “I said I’d be happy to and that I love him very much and did he want sprinkles and melted chocolate on his brownies?”

Aeon snorts. “That’s more like it,” he laughs. “I was getting worried for a second there, Mount.”

From there, the time passes quickly. Mountain jumps in to help or give advice whenever the quintessence ghoul asks for it, but for the most part, Aeon is doing well without too much guidance. The only real trouble comes when it’s time to decorate them; Aeon has no idea how to do that without messing up all his hard work by making them look atrocious.

“That’s half the fun,” Mountain argues. “Plus it’s endearing if they look a bit shit, and personally I think they taste better if they don’t look all fancy,” he confesses. “We’re only dripping on melted chocolate, you’ll be fine, I promise. Here, watch me do the first tray and you can copy that for the second, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, Mount.” Aeon watches intently as Mountain dips his spoon in the melted chocolate and picks up a decent amount of tempered chocolate on the end of it. The earth ghoul spins it around to stop the chocolate from dripping and Aeon is surprised that when Mountain reaches the tray of brownies he just… goes for it. The chocolate drips every which way and covers the brownies in a messy drizzle that Aeon can’t deny looks absolutely delicious. When it’s his turn, he does the same, opting for a slightly more uniform pattern than Mountain’s but the earth ghoul assures him the slab still looks more than edible. The two of them take it in turns with the container of sprinkles, covering their squares in the colourful blobs.

They cut the trays into brownie-sized pieces and compile both batches into one big container, making sure to set some aside for the two of them—and Dew. At a nod from Mountain, Aeon grabs one out of the container and takes a big bite, eyes widening in delight at the flavour. “I made that,” he says with his mouth still full. “I made that and it tastes so good!”

Mountain grins taking a bite of his own brownie “Yeah you did! It’s really good, well done!”

Aeon smiles widely, stuffing the rest of the brownie into his mouth gleefully. “We gotta go find Dew,” he urges. “I wanna go brag that I can cook and he can’t!”

#mushy may #day twenty two !! #aeon ghoul #mountain ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #husband ficlets

[forlorn-crows]

Mushy May Day 14: Sex Turning Into Making Love

these boys infiltrated my brain on my drive home today, so dewther it is

Pairings: Aether/Dew

Words: 1081

“Lucifer, look at you, so fucking small,” Aether pants. He’s got his strong hands pressing Dew’s hips into the mattress, thumbs meeting just below his belly button, fucking hard into his tight, abused hole. Dew’s dick bounces with each thrust, precum smearing messily over his stomach and Aether’s fingers. “Bet you could just—” The quintessence ghoul grabs the hand that’s twisting into the sheets, placing it palm down over Dew’s own lower belly. Both of them groan at the little pressure he applies. It’s just enough to:

“Feel you,” Dew breathes. “Fuck I can feel it right—” Aether thrusts hard and deep, the end of his sentence cutting off with a garbled whine. 

“Yeah, right there, oh right fucking there, huh?” The quintessence ghoul slips his hands under the small of Dew’s back, forcing it to arch as he all but pulls him on and off his cock. If he didn’t feel small before, he certainly does now, flung around by his mate like it’s nothing. 

“F-fuck, Aether,” he moans. “Put me in your lap, wanna ride you.”

Aether pulls out and scoops up the little ghoul, hugging him close and shuffling to rest against the headboard. Dew slots his knees on either side of Aether’s hips, sitting on the tops of his thighs so their cocks lie next to each other. Aether groans and wraps a hand around them both, stroking lightly.

The fire ghoul gasps and looks up at him through long lashes. “Kiss me?” he asks, voice almost demure. Aether pulls him in by the back of his neck, nipping his bottom lip before licking hungrily into Dew’s mouth. Dew melts into it, rutting greedily into Aether’s hand and pawing at his chest. 

Aether growls and drops both his hands to Dew’s ass. He lifts him up and spreads his cheeks, dipping a calloused finger past his rim. Dew can’t help but keen.

“So open for me—wanna stretch your little hole over my fat knot,” he breathes against Dew’s mouth. The fire ghoul whines again, pressing down onto his finger. 

“Please, fuck please.”

Aether lines up the wide head of his cock and drops him onto it. He sinks all the way down with a choked-off moan, staring wide-eyed at Aether’s face, who’s looking down at where they’re joined with an open mouth. He drags his hands up to Dew’s waist, his touch suddenly soft and reverent.

“Dew,” he whispers, eyes finally tracking up to meet the little ghoul’s gaze. There’s pieces of golden hair falling in his face, tinged silver by the halo of moonlight around his head. It contrasts the coppery glow of his irises, barely visible by how wide his pupils are blown. His cheeks are flushed, lips pink and shiny. Dew’s fingers flex where they’re still perched on Aether’s pecs, his little chest heaving with each ragged breath. He looks so:

“Beautiful,” Aether murmurs, brushing away a strand of hair back behind his horns. “Fuck, fire lily, look at you . . .” 

That blush creeps further down his face, bleeding onto his neck. “Will you hold me?” It’s not a common request, but it makes Aether’s heart swell anytime he asks. 

“Of course,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around Dew and pulling him close, tucking his nose into that sweet smoky scent in the crook of his neck. Dew wraps his arms around his neck, his thighs tightening against Aether’s hips. The quintessence ghoul groans and his hips twitch up of their own accord, grinding his dick further into Dew’s ass. 

“Feels s’ good, Aethe,” Dew gasps. He mouths over his ear and clings on tighter to his shoulders. 

“So good,” Aether echos. He lifts Dew a little further up his cock, making room to thrust lazily into him. “Fuck, Dew, how do you feel so good.” The last word comes out as a broken gasp, matched in emotion by Dew’s near sob at the head of Aether’s cock dragging over his prostate. 

“Dunno,” he says dumbly, “just—fuck keep going, just like that.”

“Anything, anything you want.” Aether’s helpless to the change in emotion. Sure, Dew’s just as small in his arms like this, pink hole stretched tight around his cock which is quickly fattening at the base. He could easily pin the little ghoul to his chest and fuck into him with abandon; or, manually bounce him up and down his length just by gripping his hips. But the way Dew simply arches into him, kisses sweetly over the shell of his ear and the edge of his jaw, gasps each time the head of his dick brushes against the soft roll of Aether’s stomach—it’s enough to turn him sappy. 

“Can feel your knot,” Dew gasps after a few minutes of languid, measured rutting. 

“Uh huh,” Aether moans, pressing the knot more firmly against his ass, holding pressure. 

“Touch me when you put it in, wanna cum with you.”

“Oh Satanas, Dew, now, gonna pop it now, fuck, help me get it in, need you to—” Aether pushes down on his hips, feeling the bulb give slightly and sink further in. 

“That’s it, it’s gonna—”

“Yeah—”

“Aether, touch me, please it’s gonna—” Dew reaches back to pull on his rim, stretching himself just that little bit more until Aether sinks all the way in with a pained gasp. 

“Oh oh oh, Dew please please,” Aether babbles, fumbling to get a hand on the smaller ghoul. 

Dew whines as he strokes him loose and fast, coating his length with the precum that had been steadily running down the underside. 

“So tight, I can’t, ‘m gonna cum,” Aether cries.

“Me too, oh fuck, make me cum, Aethe, make me yours.”

“Mine, all mine, shit.” Dew digs his claws into Aether’s shoulders, and the little pinpricks of pain send him over the edge, shuddering and groaning as he cums deep in Dew’s ass. 

“Yesyesyesyes,” Dew chants, gasping when he starts shooting over Aether’s fist and onto his stomach. 

“So perfect, you’re so fucking perfect.” They’re both breathless, holding each other close and panting into fevered flesh. Dew hiccups with each aftershock, burning his face further into Aether’s heavy ozone-laden scent with each spasm. 

“Lucifer, Aether,” Dew breathes after a full minute, pulling back to look dazedly at him. He doesn’t say it outright, but the quintessence ghoul knows what he means to say. 

“I love you too, so fucking much.” The kiss they share only serves to solidify the sentiment—slow and passionate, clinging to each other as if just not close enough.

#just a lil size kink oops tee hee #fanfic #the band ghost #mushy may 2023 #the band ghost fanfic #dewther #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether x dew #dew x aether #ficlet #i just felt like bein a lil nasty alright #its still really fucking mushy

[miasmaghoul]

Mountain fucking dewdrop so hard that, dewdrop accidentally pee's when he's climaxing and mountain comforts him/cleans him up?

Using this prompt to serve a dual purpose!

Mushy May - Day 9

Prompt: Aftercare

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mountain/water!Dew Contains: size difference, rough sex, accidental wetting, embarrassment, lots of comfort and reassurance Word Count: ~3.3k (jfc) PISSBOYS UNITE!

Dew rarely feels as overwhelmed as he does beneath Mountain.

Every thrust forces the air from his lungs, and even his gills aren’t enough to help him catch his breath. He clings to Mountain for dear life, shaky legs wrapped around his waist and claws dug into his broad shoulders. Mountain has his face buried in the juncture of Dew’s neck and shoulder, spewing a stream of nonsense into sweat-slick skin. Dew knows he's not much better off - the stone walls of Mountain's bedchamber echo his helpless yips, and he's entirely too far beyond being able to quash them. 

Mountain’s as lost in it as he is, one hand fisted in Dew’s hair and the other at his lower back, holding his hips up off the mattress. Dew swears he can feel Mountain in his throat like this, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Mountain engulfs him, overpowers him, makes him feel weak and small in a way no one else does. Fills him, stretches him, hits places the little ghoul didn’t even know he had. Dew always feels it for days afterwards, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Today, though, something is different. It’s subtle, but the longer Mountain fucks into his little body the more obvious it becomes. An vaguely familiar pressure accompanying every excruciatingly pleasurable drag over his prostate. Dew can’t place it, but as his cock kicks and leaks between their bodies he finds he doesn’t much care. It’s good, whatever it is. A deep, insistent throb in his pelvis that has his eyes rolling back in his head and his toes curling. 

The room is filled with the wet, filthy sound of Mountain using him, and it does nothing to stave off the release rapidly barrelling down Dew’s spine. That odd pressure isn’t helping, but something about it has a sense of unease prickling at the back of his mind. It still isn’t enough to distract, though - Dew can’t focus long enough to get out anything besides a breathless cry of fuck, fuck, fuck, but clearly Mountain understands. The other ghoul lets out a deep groan, the sound rattling through Dew’s chest as Mountain nips at the sensitive spot between his gills and his ear.

“Getting close, tadpole?” Dew makes a gurgling sound, struggling to keep his legs around the other ghoul’s waist. He’s shaking head to toe now, every nerve buzzing, and Mountain lets out a tight moan when a fresh wave of slick leaks around his cock. “Yeah you are,” he breathes, licking a slow stripe along the little ghoul’s jaw. He meets Dew’s unfocused gaze with blazing emerald eyes, tendrils of auburn hair stuck to his forehead. “You’re going to make a mess for me, aren’t you?”

Dew moans low and broken when Mountain slams into him, knocking the last bit of his brain loose. The other ghoul catches him in a searing kiss, all tongue and fang, and the way his thrusts start going jerky tells Dew that he’s almost at his limit too.

“Let go,” Mountain pants into his mouth, sucking Dew’s lower lip for good measure. “Let me up so I can make you.”

The words are little more than a courtesy and they both know it. Mountain could do anything he wanted with the little body trapped beneath him and Dew couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Still, though, he complies. Lets his limbs fall useless to the mattress, his chest heaving as Mountain pushes himself upright. He towers over the Dew like this, standing between his quivering thighs at the edge of the bed, and the reminder of Mountain’s size is enough to have Dew throbbing.

Mountain wastes no time, gripping Dew’s bony hips hard enough to leave a purple stain of his fingerprints behind. He lifts the little ghoul off the mattress and starts a merciless rhythm of deep, pounding strokes. Not fast, but so fucking hard they make Dew’s brain bounce around in his skull. The angle is incredible, the pace maddening, and within a handful of thrusts Dew is practically insensate.

“Mount,” he gasps, drool leaking from the corner of his kiss-bruised lips, “Mount, please, fuck - need…I need - make it, make me, fuck, please-”

Dew raises a trembling hand to reach for his poor neglected cock, so hard it’s long since gone dusky and achy. Mountain bats his hand away before he can get there and Dew whimpers, trying his best to blink the haze from his glassy eyes. His vision clears just in time to see Mountain shift his grip, supporting his slight body with one hand and wrapping the other around his stiff little dick. It covers him completely, and Dew is powerless to stop the choked moan that slithers past his lips.

Mountain starts tugging, slow and methodical, and Dew feels himself starting to unravel. He can’t hold his head up, dropping back onto the mattress and mindlessly toying with a nipple ring. He’s out of his mind, every devastatingly perfect thrust against his prostate forces another blurt of pre from his swollen tip. That odd pressure makes itself known again too, only now it doesn’t fade. Dew can’t figure out why it sets his teeth on edge, but the only reason he hasn’t fallen apart at the seams already is the jingle of warning bells in the back of his useless head.

“You’re so wet,” Mountain huffs then, the slick sound of his hand nearly drowning out the words. “Always so fucking wet.” 

Dew moans out a mindless uh-huh; it’s only going to get worse and they both know it. There are no more words spoken, Dew reduced to reedy, punched-out cries and Mountain to little more than low growls and panting. It’s instinctual, animalistic. Brutal in the best way. Intense and viscerally satisfying. Mountain cants his hips just so, thumbs over the head, and the coil of heat in Dew’s belly goes taut. His balls draw up, his stomach clenches, and when that strange pressure floods his pelvis he’s hit with a wave of icy realization.

“Oh no,” he gasps, so very breathless, “no, oh no, no, no no no-”

Dew cums hard, arching off the mattress with a strained shout. It comes in waves, spurt after spurt coating Mountain’s hand and his own stomach. The other ghoul snarls, fucking into him faster, harder, chasing his own release, and Dew tries so hard to control himself.

But it’s too late. He can’t stop it. .  

Mountain’s hips stutter when the stream starts, and the sound Dew makes when he feels his piss splash against his belly is one of utter humiliation. He hides behind his hands, tries to curl his boneless body into itself, but he’s stuck. Dew is barely aware of Mountain’s strangled grunt, of the way his body bows, the way his hands shake and hold him tight.

He grasps his control back as soon as Mountain goes still, red hot from head to toe and teary eyed as he staunches the stream. He doesn’t even feel like he just came, the burn of embarrassment too overwhelming for him to process anything else. Mountain says something, but Dew doesn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. 

The second Mountain’s hand moves from his still twitching dick Dew scrambles away, giving an unconscious yelp when Mountain’s not yet soft cock slips from the oversensitive clutch of his body. He stumbles to the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him, dizzy and filthy and so fucking ashamed he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

The little ghoul leans against the cool tile wall with a tight sigh, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. His whole body feels heavy, worn, the way it always does when Mountain is done with him. It cries out for contact, for the tight circle of the other ghoul’s strong arms. For the grounding rumble of his purr and the soothing scent of fresh soil and evergreen. He craves it.

Instead, he’s alone in a bathroom, surrounded by nothing but silence and the smell of sex and the way he embarrassed himself. Dew tells himself he won’t cry - it was an accident, after all - but there’s a telltale tightness in his chest that suggests he won’t have any control over that either.  

What the fuck is he supposed to do? It’s not like he can stay here forever, it’s Mountain’s bathroom. Eventually he’ll have to leave. Have to see the other ghoul and say…what is he supposed to say to Mountain? Sorry? That doesn’t seem like the right thing to say when someone fucks you so hard you piss yourself. It’s not nearly apologetic enough. Hell, Mountain will probably come stomping in any minute to throttle him. To sneer at him and call him disgusting. He deserves it, but the thought alone is still enough to give him the hiccups. He sinks to the floor and clutches his knees to his chest, shivering and sniffling, and awaits the inevitable.

What he gets, though,

“Dew?” Mountain’s voice filters through the thick oaken door, low and calm. “Dew, are you alright?”

Dew stares at the door wide-eyed, chest tight. Why doesn’t Mountain sound angry? Why wasn’t he storming in? Surely he’s upset, why wouldn’t he be? Dew swallows hard, but when he tries to talk he can’t find his voice. He whimpers instead, tucking his chin to his chest. Fuck, he’s pathetic. It’s a few minutes before Mountain speaks again.

“Droplet, please say something. Please.”

Dew’s ear twitches at the pet name, and at the other ghoul’s tone. Mountain doesn’t sound upset. He sounds…concerned. Worried. Dew peeks over his knees at the door, trying to calm the slam of his heart against his ribs. He clears his throat, swallowing down just enough of the bile in his throat to croak out a response.

“‘m sorry,” he manages, throaty and thick. Probably too quiet to be heard. There’s a soft sigh from the other side of the door.

“Dew…is it alright if I come in?” 

He wants to say no. Wants to tell Mountain that he’d rather never be seen again, thank you very much. Wants to, but can’t. Can’t because he’s lacking quite literally all of his usual vitriol, forced into timidity by his own stupid body. Can’t because, if he’s honest, he wants to see Mountain too. Wants to feel his hands, his arms, his chest. Wants that comfort. Needs it.

Dew doesn’t know when the tears started, but now he can’t stop them. A sob bubbles its way out of his chest, and before he can so much as blink the door flies open and Mountain is kneeling before him, hands raised, worry writ large on his handsome face.

Something in Dew’s chest cracks, and before he can stop himself he’s launching himself into the other ghoul’s arms. Mountain doesn’t so much as hesitate, wrapping Dew up tight in a cocoon of familiar limbs. He buries his face in Mountain’s neck on instinct, hunting through the musk of sweat and sex for the scent of solid earth.

Mountain holds him through the tears, through the sobs. Doesn’t shush him or prod at him. Simply lets Dew cry it all out against his shoulder, stroking his hair and running his knuckles down his spine. It’s only a few minutes before his tears dry up and Dew is left simply sniffling, idly fiddling with Mountain’s chest hair. The other ghoul is the one to break the silence.

“Are you back with me, tadpole?”

Dew nods, a bit sluggish, but feeling more clear headed than he had a few minutes ago. He huffs against Mountain’s throat, shifting, and the movement serves to remind him that he’s still covered in…everything. His own messes coating his stomach and Mountain’s leaking down his thighs. His face heats again and Dew feebly tries to shove himself away, but Mountain won’t let him.

“‘m gross,” he murmurs, voice strained. “C’mon, lemme up.”

“No,” Mountain says simply, holding the little ghoul to his chest. “Not until I know you’re alright.”

It would be easy to lie. To say he was fine and wrestle his way out of the other ghoul’s arms. His ass may be sore, but his arms and legs don’t feel quite so much like jelly anymore. It would be easy.

“No,” he admits, tucking his chin to his chest, “I’m sorry, Mount, I didn’t -”

“It’s alright, Dew,” Mountain coos, rubbing his shin. “I promise it’s alright.” Dew pulls back just enough to scowl up at him.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s alright’?” Dew snaps, but it carries no malice. He’s so tired all of a sudden. “I fuckin’...I pissed on your damn hand, how is that alright?”

Mountain answers with a small smile, leaning down to give Dew an affectionate peck on the forehead. He knocks their horns together for good measure, and Dew will never admit how much that tiny gesture comforts him.

“I mean it’s alright,” he says with a shrug, “it’s not a big deal.” Dew stares at him like he’s grown a second head and Mountain huffs out a soft laugh. “We can talk about it later, okay?”

“But-”

“Later, droplet,” Mountain repeats, tucking mussed silver hair behind Dew’s pink-tipped ear. “For now, will you let me help you get cleaned up? You’re shivering, you must be frozen.”

Dew blinks. He hadn’t noticed, but now that he’s thinking about something besides his own crippling embarrassment - yeah, he’s definitely cold. Cold and sore and tired.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “yeah, okay.” 

Mountain nods and they both fall silent again. He helps Dew to his feet, and the little ghoul really has to fight the urge to hide himself. Mountain busies himself getting the shower ready, testing the water and gathering the bottles of shampoo and conditioner he keeps in his cupboard especially for Dew. He also tosses a small pouch into the bottom of the stall and the room rapidly fills with the scent of eucalyptus and sage. Dew groans as heady steam fills his lungs, flaring his gills and letting the warmth wash over him.

Mountain guides him into the shower with a gentle hand on his lower back, and Dew takes a moment to bask in the perfectly temperate spray. They fall into a familiar routine; Mountain washes his hair, always so thorough in the way he massages Dew’s scalp. In the way he combs through the conditioner. In the way he scrubs Dew’s back with peppermint-scented soap, applied with a home-grown loofah.

What’s different, though, is the way Mountain talks. This is usually something they do in silence, but today Mountain has chosen to walk through everything he does. Everywhere he touches, asking Dew each time ‘can I’ or ‘is this okay’ or ‘do you want me to stop’. Any other day Dew would find such frequent check-ins irritating. Obnoxious and unnecessary. Today, though, he’s nothing but appreciative. 

Mountain works slowly and methodically, sinking to his knees once Dew’s back is finished to take care of the mess on his thighs. He’s so delicate, so gentle, washing away more and more of Dew’s tension with each pass of the sponge. He hisses a bit when Mountain swipes over his abused hole, all pink and puffy, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

“Alright,” Mountain murmurs, caressing Dew’s waist and pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, “are you ready to turn around?”

Dew hesitates. He doesn’t mean to, but he does. There’s not really anything left to see, the water has rinsed away most of the mess coating his belly, but he suddenly feels weirdly exposed. 

“You don’t have to, it’s alright,” Mountain soothes, still holding his waist. “Would you rather do it yourself? Or I can leave, if it’s easier-”

“No!” Dew grabs at Mountain’s hand, his stomach flipping. “U-um,” he clears his throat, blaming his flushed cheeks on the warm water, “I mean…fuck, I dunno what I mean. But please don’t leave.” The last few words are barely a whisper, ones Dew almost feels guilty for saying, but the sigh of obvious relief Mountain looses helps to assuage the feeling.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, “not if you don’t want me to.”

They stay like that for a handful of moments before Dew steadies himself with a deep breath. He turns slowly, carefully, appreciative of the way Mountain doesn’t so much as move until he exhales. He holds up the loofah in silent offer, and Dew shakes his head.

“‘s better when you do it,” he mumbles. Mountain nods and gets back to work without question

He scrubs Dew’s chest and arms with practiced motions, luxurious swirls of that rough sponge. He pauses to draw an inverted triangle in the suds between Dew’s nipples, and Dew can’t help the little giggle it drags out of him. Mountain smiles up at him and Dew allows himself to return it. It falters when Mountain asks his next question.

“Is it alright if I wash you here?”

Dew knows what he means, but Mountain gestures anyway. At his stomach and limp little dick, hanging shy between his skinny thighs. Dew huffs out a harsh exhale.

“Yeah,” he breathes, giving a shallow nod. “Yeah, it’s alright.” Mountain’s already kind smile turns impossibly fond. 

“Thank you,” the other ghoul says, and Dew barks out a short laugh.

“You’re washing my dick after I pissed on you, and you’re the one thanking me?”

“I’m not thanking you for that, tadpole,” Mountain replies, scrubbing over his stomach. “I’m thanking you for trusting me to help.”

Dew…doesn’t know what to say to that. Is that what this is? Trust? It’s not the first word that would’ve come to mind - that would be vulnerability. But vulnerability and trust come hand in hand, he supposes. Hard to have one without the other. To be vulnerable with someone is to trust them, and Mountain?

Yeah, he trusts Mountain.

“I feel fuckin’ ridiculous,” Dew finally admits with a groan, shoulders sagging. He scrubs at his face with both hands, gills fluttering. 

“You shouldn’t.” Mountain finishes his stomach and moves on to his thighs. Dew peers down at him from between two fingers.

“What kind of fuckin’ water ghoul pisses himself, Mount?” Mountain stills, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You didn’t do it on purpose, Dew,” he says, easy as anything. “It wasn’t something you could control.”

“I know, but -” 

Dew cuts himself off with a surprised chirp when Mountain finally palms him with a soapy hand. There’s nothing lascivious in his touch, just simple care. It’s strangely comforting, and Dew finds himself sighing when Mountain pulls back.

“There we go,” he says, pushing himself upright with a grunt. Dew lets himself be turned, guided back under the water. Lets Mountain rinse the bubbles from his skin and watches them swirl down the drain. “All set.”

Mountain steps away, probably just to set down the loofah, but any distance is too far right now. Dew spins on his heel and rushes forward, flinging his arms around Mountain’s waist and burying his face in his chest. Mountain doesn’t miss a beat, wrapping the little ghoul in a tight embrace and kicking up the purr Dew loves so much. 

“Thank you,” Dew mumbles, pressing a kiss to Mountain’s wet skin, “and I’m sorry.”

“If you apologize one more time I’m going to ask who you are and what you’ve done with my Dewdrop.”

Dew pulls back to glare at him only to have Mountain flash that beatific smile, all chipped fangs and sparkling eyes. Maybe it’s the adrenaline wearing off, maybe it’s his body finally acknowledging his bone-melting orgasm, but Dew can’t help himself from returning it. He pushes himself up onto his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Mountain’s chin.

“Can we go to bed now?” Mountain drops a kiss of his own between his horns.

“Soon,” he promises. “Do you want to go get dressed while I wash up?” Dew shakes his head, nuzzling back between Mountain’s pecs. 

“I’m comfy here,” he murmurs, and Mountain laughs.

“Whatever you want, droplet.”

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #mushy may #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #water!dew #mountain/dew #mountain x dew #pissboys 4 lyfe #less piss than you may expect but it's there!

[dirtytransmasc]

Modest!Alicent:

There's also something Southern about it all. She's of Andal decent (pale) and from Oldtown (southernmost part of Westeros). Oldtowners like her should be covering up to protect themselves from the sun. It makes sense for modest dress and veils to be most prominent/popular there, out of the whole country.

yes yes yes this.

her modesty has so many layers in my mind, like

A) it's about her religion, it's about her faith and how she connects to and honors her gods.

B) it's about keeping some of herself, to herself, and those she trusts. it's about control. it's about feeling safe and clean and modest and safe from stares and touches and lust. it's about reclaiming even just a piece of herself for no one but her.

C) It's about holding onto a bit of her home, her mother, her house. it's about staying connected to Oldtown and the Vale and her people, her family. it's something she can give to her daughter, that her children can give to their children.

like it's layered and tragic and beautiful and it's so so her.

I think she loves going back to Oldtown, it's never as often as she would like, but she loves to go back and see all the women with veils and long skirts, out living their lives. she loves getting to go around and compliment other girls veils or intricate undergarments that covers their arms when it's too hot for long sleeves, it makes her feels young and home and safe again.

she finds an excuse to tour the market so she can bring home new veils, one's she picked, made by her people, the ones she wore when she was young.

its like a breath of fresh air.

she brings Helaena with her, and typically the boys and Criston join her, she places scarves and shawls over them, tickles them with the corners of silk scarves, lets them pick some for her.

even the men in Oldtown cover up more than those in Kings Landing do, so the boys ask to match with them, and they have a day spent out in the son like she had when she was young. she sees her daughter running in her long skirt, chasing after the boys, donned in high patterned socks and half rolled up sleeves, with some bug or another, veil flapping in the wind. she leans against Criston, who's making sure the wind doesn't blow her own veil away even though she's assured him time and time again she pins her veils very well. she watches her children live her childhood and its just so nice.

I just think she'd be so relieved to be able to take this little piece of her home back to the Keep.

#modesty #modest alicent hightower #modest!alicent hightower #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #pro team green #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #criston cole #pro alicent hightower #she's living her best life #turned into a little ficlet near the bottom cause I was just going with the flow #sorry this took so long. my brains been a mushy pile of useless lately lol

[sophiasharp]

Brain has been rotting out of its skull these last few days thinking about Copia’s initially rocky relationship with the ghouls, particularly about how he made it so much worse to start with.

Cause I gotta imagine that he was only put officially in charge of Ghost after the deaths of the other Papas, so that’s gonna leave him a bit of a mess for a bit, especially because he suddenly doesn’t know who the hell he can trust anymore now that his main support system just got completely wiped out.

(They were the strongest men he knew, they may have played dumb to the Clergy but each of them were so much smarter than anyone gave them credit for, he’d been so sure they would be here till the Abbey itself crumbled, and yet now he’s here. He, the useless bastard younger brother, has lived to see another era, and they haven’t, and it just isn’t fucking fair-)

So when he’s initially put in charge of the ghouls, he endeavors to be detached- to be what he knows Imperator would want from him for fear that even the slightest provocation could send his house of cards crumbling down, as it were. He referred to them only as “ghoul,” was straight and to the point during rehearsal, and then avoided them completely in everyday life if it could be helped.

And then there is the photo shoot. You know, the one with the severed head.

(It was a threat, it was an open fucking threat, not just to him but to anyone else left that could be considered close to him, it was a threat to play his part like they wanted or otherwise join his predecessors in death, it was a warning to his few remaining friends to stay away lest they prove “distracting” enough to the new band leader that they must be dealt with, because why else would it be Terzo’s real head? Why else would they go to the trouble of decapitating a dead man for a magazine cover?)

The day after, Copia gets so much worse. He can’t talk to anyone about the stress he’s under, can’t safely relieve his frustrations and anxiety to anyone else so he takes it out on the ghouls. He becomes hyper critical off their performances. So what if Rain is still learning the bass? So what if Cumulus has yet to fully acclimate to the surface? So what if Dew only regained consciousness from his element change a week ago and is still dealing with the loss of almost his entire pack? So what if they’re all grieving the same way he is? It’s no excuse. They need to be better.

(Don’t they know? Don’t they know the razor’s edge they all were balancing on? Don’t they know they’re all one mistake away from being cast aside? From being sent to the pit without any warning? From having their existence be deemed not worth of the air they breathed? Don’t they know? Don’t they?)

That day the tension snaps between Copia and the ghouls. It’s one unneeded criticism too many and they all just. Leave. They’ve had enough of thinly veiled threats for one day, never mind the rest of the week. It serves as a wake-up call for Copia, makes him realize just how badly he’d fucked up taking his aggression out on the band mates he’s likely to be spending his entire musical career with.

He regroups after that. Endeavors to apologize. To explain himself, if they’d let him. He knew nothing would mend the rift he’d created immediately, but the sooner he admitted his wrongdoings, the sooner he could start over with them, prove he was more than just a cowardly dog hiding at Imperator’s heels.

So he goes to the ghoul den- not for the first time overall, but certainly for the first time since Terzo was dragged off stage all those months ago -and tries to talk to the ghouls, the majority of whom were huddled around the coffee table in front of the couch.

Mountain gets up to meet him in the doorway, and before Copia can get so much as a syllable out, a pamphlet is being thrust into his chest with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

No, not a pamphlet, he realizes as his heart sinks. A magazine. One with a hauntingly familiar image on the cover.

(He still feels the cold blood through his gloves, still feels the weight of the head in his arms, the bright lights of the camera flash seared into his brain even a day later. He wants to scream. To cry. To vomit. To say or do anything and yet it’s as if he’s rooted in place, only able to look at that damn photo and his brother’s dull, lightless eyes-)

“We may be under your leadership, but If you ever try to hurt my family again, they will never find your body. I’d suggest you leave now before I lose my patience.”

#the band ghost #ghost the band #band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghostbc #ghost #the band ghost headcanons #the band ghost ficlet #the band ghost fanfic #Cardinal copia #nameless ghouls #the nameless ghouls #heavily inspired by a chapter out of Hypnoghoul’s Mushy Nat compilation #I read the ghouls ditching Copia’s salty ass in that and it changed by brain chemistry #I’m writing this at 6 am with no sleep so if this isn’t the most coherent that’s probably why #no beta I’m sleepy #Sharp’s headcanons

[galedekarios]

how close you are (two hearts beating a perfect rhythm)

ever since i first played through the test of love with gale, i couldn't stop thinking about what if he had to answer questions of his own. so this is that, completely self-indulgent. 🖤

~*~

"What is the drow’s favourite colour?"

Someone less inclined towards forgiveness, towards acceptance, than Gale would say red. Altonaufein knows he had spilled enough blood in his past for it to be an answer to the dryad’s question–and one he would accept. 

Yet the thought of it alone brings memories with it. Unwelcome. Unkind. 

(There is blood everywhere. I’m lost in it. I breathe blood, not air–)

Mal’ai. Calm.

With a shake of his head and a deep breath, Altonaufein’s eyes, blood red themselves, dart to Gale’s. The wizard’s patient gaze meets his before warm brown eyes widen. Perhaps the drow has given himself away with this glance alone.

“Brown,” Gale says and the answer is so uncharacteristically short for the man that it speaks of his surprise, the right answer coming to him in a moment of realisation. 

~*~

“Where does the worst of his scars linger?”

Gale knows intimately what lies hidden under the heavy chain mail and gambeson, protected further by a simple linen undershirt: A web of raised scars on the drow’s back, a testament of his sisters’ unimaginable cruelty. He had run his hands over each lash mark, touch light as a feather, perhaps to offset the violence that had caused them. 

Still, Gale knows all too well that some hurts run far deeper.

“He fears what happened: What he doesn't remember and what he does remember.”

He will not say more, not even here, in the privacy of this illusion around them, and the way Altonaufein’s eyes–not the colour of blood, not to Gale, but priceless rubies–glow softly with the affection the cleric feels at the man's thoughtfulness. And the dryad has her answer.

~*~

“When does Altonaufein feel safest?”

Once–not so long ago–the answer might have been nowhere. Later then, with his two scimitars in hand would have been true. 

Now, both would be a lie. 

He had felt it first as Karl held him close, knowing just who he was and what he had done.

Kulg Llarzoran Ithrana d'qu'ellar Hlarahel.

Jaluk.

Auflaque.

Dirt elf.

Alton.

The broadness of the man had felt like a haven instead of a threat in a way perhaps only one of the Ilmatari could. 

He had felt it again as he had been cradled in the Weave, Gale knowing his every thought and every desire, every part of himself that was dark and ugly, light and beautiful.

“Being known and accepted for who he is, that is… true safety to him.”

~*~

Drawn together by the bond between them, a push and pull both have followed, Gale realises just how close they are to each other when a calloused hand brushes against his cheek. 

“Ussta ssussun.” 

He knows only a handful of words in Drowic, most of them from late nights and some early mornings at the Yawning Portal, though he has made it his mission to learn more–still, even so, Gale knows this endearment well:

My light.

-------

drowic translation:

-ma'lai = idiot -kulg ("male offspring in the house", lit. meaning "dirt") llarzoran ("three" bc he's the third-born) ithrana (name of his mother) qualla hlarahel ("of house hlarahel") -jaluk = male -auflaque = dog -ussta ssussun = my light

#i don't even know what to tag this as #anyhow feeling stressed so editing my mushy hcs into ficlets #otp: a soul that steels my own #ch: gale dekarios #ch: altonaufein #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #edit: mybg3 #fic: mybg3

[chapel-of-rizztual]

Bathtime.

Mushy may/Mountain Monday: day 1.

And probably the only one I’ll do

It became a ritual for both of them. Crawling into each other’s arm and into the bathtub that was in Rains bathroom, washing away the dirt and grime that came from the greenhouse and the lake. They’d been yelled at more then once for flooding the bathroom, water slashing everywhere as one pushed into the other, a new desperation and neediness crawling at their skin.

But today wasn’t like that. Today the water remained still, only rippling slightly with each breath they took. 

Rain was fully submerged, his gills fluttering with each breath. Only his hands, held onto Mountain’s shoulder and back and one leg, hooked over Mountain’s hip remained above the water. Mountain rested between his leg, one arm under Rains back, supporting him, the other under his head, hand buried in his hair as he ran gently claws though his hair. 

They’d been like this for hours now, happily laying in the water together, basking in the gentleness and closeness of each other’s company. Mountain’s tail occasionally flicking the hot tap back on whenever the water cooled a little too much for his liking. 

Mountain pulled away from where his head was buried in Rain’s neck. He taps the water ghouls chin gently, signalling him to come back up to the surface. Rain breeched the surface of the water, flicking the excess water off his ears,  a small pout on his lips. 

“I was comfy down there.” He pouts even more.

Mountain laughs lightly at him.

“I know, I’m sorry, dragonfly.”

“Then why ask me to come up.” His pout deepens.

“Wanted to wash your hair.” Mountain smiles at him. 

Rain looks at him in fake thought.

“I suppose I can allow that.” 

“I didn’t think you’d object to that.” Mountain laughs again. “I’ll even use Dew’s special shampoo and conditioner.” 

Rain gasps at him. 

“Scandalous. He’ll kill you if he find out you’ve used that, you know.” 

“I will squash him like the bug he is if he even tries.” 

It was Rain’s turn to laugh. 

“You know, I’d like to see that.” 

Nothing else gets said as Mountain lathers up Rain's hair with Dew’s expensive shampoo. Rain leans into his touch, pushing his head back into Mountain’s hands with a small sigh. 

Mountain scratches at his scalp with his claws, making Rain's eyes flutter shut, another sigh leaving his lips. 

“That feel good, darling?” 

Rain hums, unable to speak, feeling himself go fully boneless at Mountain’s gentle touch, he’s unable to stop the purr that rumbles though his chest.

Mountain is quick to wash the suds from his hair and wash the conditioner in, leaving it there to soak in. 

“Your hair's so curly.” Mountain twists one of the soapy ringlets round his finger. “So pretty.” 

Rain whines and Shakes his head, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“What? It’s true.” Mountain runs his thumb along Rain's cheekbones. “You’re so pretty, Rain.” 

“Stop it.” Rain whispers, a blush high on his cheeks.

“Never.” Mountain places a gentle kiss to his lips. “Prettiest dragonfly at the lake.” He places another kiss to Rain's lips. “If I had a net, I’d catch you and keep you forever.” 

Rain hums, squinting his eyes open. 

“You don’t need a net.” He leans up slightly to return a kiss. “I’m already yours, forever.” 

#mushy may #mountain monday #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #ficlet #ghost headcanons #my writing

[divine-misfortune]

Mushy May, day 4. First kiss.

Rating: everyone

Pairing: Swiss/Mountain (swiss alps?)

Words: 1,119

Summary: Swiss has agonized and torn himself apart over the idea of it for months. It was one kiss, but what if he fucked it up?

How was he supposed to be calm about this?

Swiss was the furthest thing from calm, he'd say he was outright panicking, and if anyone could see the speed at which his thoughts raced they'd agree. On the outside at least he appeared collected, aside from the fact he kept wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He could blame that on the heat of the greenhouse.

All he could smell was herbs and flowers, and part of him was grateful. It was a distraction at least. If he'd been able to catch Mountain’s scent, he'd be done for. What little composure he had would have failed him entirely almost immediately. He could feel it already faltering but he kept the foolish hope that it might last until he could think of an excuse to smoothly leave the situation.

And the situation?

It was torture, that's what it was. Just the two of them in the narrow rows of plants, mingling with the fauna as they squeezed past each other. If Swiss had to feel Mountain's hand sliding against his waist again he might just bury his head into the nearest bag of topsoil.

Every touch and glance had Swiss fumbling over himself. Mountain nearly sent his poor heart beating out of his chest and it was disgustingly effortless on his part.

He bit his lower lip when Mountain set his watering can down, watching the way he folded his sleeves up with a fascination that could only be described as obsessive. His fingers moved so smoothly, the muscle under the skin flexing slowly with each movement. Swiss could feel his mouth run dry, his typically clever tongue sitting twisted up in his mouth.

"Swiss-"

The multi ghoul stared at the movement of his lips. His top fangs were crooked, how had he never noticed that before? He could feel his heart stutter for the hundredth time. Mountain's lips were plush with the faintest scar at the corner of his mouth, Swiss couldn't quite remember how he got it.

"Hey?"

And then there were those dimples, soft divots in his cheeks to accompany his lopsided grin.

"Swiss!"

He jumped, nearly out of his own skin, and dropped his own watering can. It spilled over the hem of his pants and his shoes. Great.

"Dude are you okay? You've been watering that basil plant for five minutes."

"...huh?" Swiss blinked and glanced at the poor plant that had fallen victim to his distraction. There was water spilling down the sides of its terracotta pot and pooling around the base. He felt his face grow warm and swallowed. "Fuck, sorry."

"What's got you so in your own head today?"

"You."

Mountain blinked and wiped his hands on his apron. The damn movement of his hands again. He took a step towards him and Swiss felt his stomach flip. He grabbed for the watering can and retreated for the hose on the far side of the small building. It wasn't much distance but it was distance.

The word was supposed to stay inside his head, silent admission and nothing more but it escaped despite himself. He debated hitting his head against the wall.

"Me?" Mountain asked, almost amused.

The wall was becoming more tempting.

"Yes! You!" Swiss groaned and dropped the hose. "It's always you, you're always in my head! You never leave!"

"Did I do something?"

"Yes! No? I don't know!" He dragged his hands down his face. "You're just, you're you."

"I'm…sorry?"

"You're you and you're perfect and it's driving me insane. I want to be around you because when I'm not my chest aches but it gets so tight when you're around I forget how to breathe. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it. About you. About any of this shit!"

Mountain shifted and settled his hands on his hips, watching Swiss start to get more and more fidgety. He felt like he was about to vibrate right out of his skin at this rate. The thoughts had started, he'd let a little trickle out and the rest broke through like a fucking flood. He couldn't make himself shut up if he tried.

The look on Mountain's face was hard to pin down, anywhere from bewildered to bemused.

"You don't know what to do, okay…So, what do you want to do?"

"Kiss you."

Swiss wanted to rip the tongue right from his mouth when Mountain blushed. He tipped his head slightly, ear twitching a bit.

"What's stopping you?"

"I, well, um," he stammered. Swiss couldn't remember the last time he fucking stammered. "Because I know I won't get it right."

Mountain chuckled, a low rumble that felt like it rattled Swiss' brain.

"What?! It's not funny, asshole."

"It's a little funny, Swiss."

Swiss was torn between throttling Mountain or himself. Especially when Mountain moved closer to him. He couldn't back up any further when he stepped back into the table littered with tools.

"What's there to get right?"

"Everything."

Mountain was so much taller than him, he nearly forgot that fact. Being caged between the earth ghoul and the bench was the definition of being trapped between a rock and a hard place.

"I don't know about that, 's easy rosebud."

The taller ghoul graced his cheek with the tips of his fingers, rough in texture but gentle in touch. Swiss opened his mouth but nothing came out and Mountain breathed a laugh close to his parted lips. He could taste pomegranate on his exhale and had to grab the edge of the table behind him to steady himself before Mountain closed that space. He didn't trust his knees, for good reason.

His lips were chapped but moved smoothly against his own. Swiss' eyes fluttered. Better than he expected. He was sweet, he was soft, he was all encompassing and Swiss reached for a fistful of his shirt. Like this, Mountain clouded his senses. He could smell pine and honey, and the hint of whatever new laundry detergent they'd switched to.

It was a feeling he could live in. One that he'd gladly sink into and never resurface from.

Swiss had kissed others before. Every other ghoul in their pack, at least twice, and he'd never felt a lick of hesitation but kissing Mountain felt different. Like everything stopped and it was just them and that greenhouse. The rest of the world was irrelevant. Mountain kissed him like it was second nature, like it was the easiest thing he'd done in his life. As if this wasn't something Swiss had been agonizing over for weeks.

But Mountain pulled back and Swiss nearly fell over himself trying to chase the feeling.

"See? Not such a big deal."

#writing #mushy may #void writing #ficlet #the band ghost #the band ghost ficlet #the band ghost fic #ghost the band #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #multi ghoul #mountain/swiss

[iamthecomet]

Prompts? Maybe you could do Swiss x aether, comfort? Idk for what, just comfort and fluff!!

Double (triple) dipping for today's Mushy May prompt(s).

Mushy May Day 11

Prompt: First I love you / Unspoken I love you. Rating: Teen Pairing: Aether/Swiss & Past Aether/Terzo Featuring: Angst. Grieving. Nightmares. Longing. Grief does weird things to people (and ghouls). Comfort. Quintessence. Word Count: 950+ Read under the cut, or on AO3.

Love is an easy thing with them. The pack is full of it. Casual I love yous thrown over shoulders. The press of thumbs over knuckles, the slide of fingers together. They all fit together. Bonded by experience, by undeniable kinship.

Aether feels it. Feels the swell of love, the burn of it in his chest. And he thinks about saying it back when Cumulus calls it to him. Thinks about whispering it in Dew’s ear when they’re curled up together. Thinks about letting those words fall off of his tongue again.

It’s been…he could pretend he doesn’t know. He could just say it’s been a while. It’s been almost a year. He can pretend that he doesn’t know this down to the day—the minute almost.

He wonders if Dew and Mountain have noticed. He’d be stupid to think they haven’t. He used to whisper it to their skin without thought. Easy to mouth the words against the hollow of Mountain’s hip. To gift it to them so freely. It feels impossible now. Weighted with grief.

There are moments it bubbles up in his throat. Mostly with Dew and Mountain. Familiar. Part of his old pack. Ghouls who know how he used to be. Ones he knows inside and out. He almost says it when he drags his fingers over the scars where Dew’s fins and gills used to be. But instead he calls him pretty, presses his lips to those places, offers up affection in devotion instead of words that don’t mean anything, but somehow mean everything.

He doesn’t think about it. Or, he tells himself he doesn’t think about it. That he doesn’t remember it when he’s laying alone in his bed. That he doesn’t think about it when Rain presses his lips to Aether’s temple and whispers it.

He thinks about him all the time. Those thoughts feel like contraband in an Abbey that has forgotten him. In the middle of pack where more than half of them never met him. He’s a ghost shared by Dew, and Mountain, and Aether. And Dew and Mountain never talk about him. They talk about Ifrit and Zephyr and Mist sometimes. Fondly. Tinged with lingering grief. But no one says Terzo’s name. A silent, oppressive, ghost that haunts their every move.

Aether can’t outrun him. Doesn’t want to. He plays that moment over in his head on a loop. Terzo’s hand scratching through Aether’s hair. Aether’s head pressed against his bare chest. Skin sticky with sweat. Terzo’s heart was hammering, breath still stuttering. He’d laughed, raspy and bright.

I think I love you. He’d said like a revelation.

Aether’d looked up at him. Violet eyes gone wide. Really?

Yeah. Terzo’d nodded, smiling down at Aether, face as open as he’d ever seen it, affection obvious. I do.

Good. Aether’d growled. Surging up to pull Terzo into a claiming kiss. I know I love you.

Aether dreams about it. Wakes from the dreams gasping just as it all starts to go wrong. Just when Aether is stumbling into Terzo’s room the next day to find him sprawled on the floor, cold, stiff. Gone. Aether can’t escape it. Even now. When Swiss is curled around him, purring deeply. He’s awake, dragged there by Terzo’s ghost. An insistent reminder of the last time he let those words fall from his lips. He knows it’s stupid. Saying them again doesn’t change anything. Not saying them doesn’t make Terzo less dead.

Swiss grumbles as Aether moves, fingers tightening against his side. The purr cuts off. Aether feels a wave of guilt.

“Sorry,” he whispers into the dark. Swiss nuzzles his face into Aether’s neck. “’s fine.”

“Go back to sleep.” Aether reaches up to sink his fingers into Swiss’ curls, to pet against his scalp. Swiss sighs, sinks deeper into Aether’s hold.

“You ok?”

Aether can’t talk about it. Maybe someday, maybe in the daylight. But not now. Not like this. But he doesn’t want to lie either. He opts for a shrug.

“Bad dream?”

“Sort of. Memories mostly.”

Swiss hums like he understands. “Want help getting back to sleep?”

“What?”

“I know I don’t advertise like you do, but I’ve got some tricks.”  Swiss picks up one of his hands to waggle his fingers in front of Aether’s face. Aether can feel him smiling against his neck.

Aether knew about Swiss’ quintessence since the moment he was summoned. Like calls to like. He could feel it. But Aether’s never seen him use it. He’s watched Swiss set fire to plenty of things. Watched him turn into shadow at a moments notice. He’s seen him do a hundred incredible things with his mixed powers. But never soothe a headache, or dig into someone’s brain and put them on their knees.

“I’ll be gentle,” Swiss promises.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

Swiss rolls his eyes. He presses his hand against Aether’s neck, and Aether feels the familiar cold of quintessence slip through his skin. Swiss is gentle. Aether can feel the way he prods at the anxiety knotting in Aether’s brain, at the tension in his shoulders, gentle tendrils easing him toward relaxation. Aether sags against the bed, eyes slipping closed as Swiss works. Mental energy finding knots and untying them. Pulling him toward boneless. When he’s done, Aether’s the one purring, a raspy rumble. Swiss kisses his temple, laughing softly as he does. “Better.”

Aether pulls Swiss closer, gluing their bodies together as tight as he can. “You should advertise.”

“Dew would never let me up if I did.” Swiss settles his face back into the crook of Aether’s neck. “Glad I could help.”

“Swiss,” Aether says, voice quiet. He’s floating, adrift on warmth and love and the high of quintessence. The words are right here, so easy.

“Hmm?”

“I—”

“I know,” Swiss cuts him off. Aether’s immediately grateful for it. “I love you too.”

#comet writes #ficlet #mushy may #request #anon #angst #hurt/comfort #swiss/aether #aether/swiss #aether ghoul #swiss ghoul #aether/terzo #terzo/aether #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction

[mushiewrites]

Day 2 - Accidental

yaaaay this prompt request came from @awkwardtickleetoo! it was most likely when I needed to fill a few last ones and we decided on himbros! a duo I love that I don't write nearly enough, so maybe this will change that? sooo yeah, enjoy :D

tickletober prompts here 🎃

(lee!Punz / ler!Foolish : 841 words)

“Why did I agree to do this?” Punz grunted under his breath, leaning forward in his chair to get closer to the screen as his character creeped around the corner, half expecting to get jumpscared and going tense, even when nothing happened. 

Looking over his shoulder at the blonde, Foolish chuckled to himself as he watched Punz’s character sprint down the hallway, only to be suddenly chased by a big green alligator wearing star sunglasses. Punz let out a shriek, somehow managing to maneuver away from the danger. He sat back in his chair when he was finally safe in the game, letting out a sigh of relief. 

Foolish rolled his eyes at the dramatics as Punz slapped a hand over his chest, throwing his head back against his seat and squeezing his eyes shut as he regulated his breathing from the adrenaline running through his system at the jumpscare. The brunette smirked, a plan to scare Punz forming in his brain as he slowly stood up from the chair that was out of frame from the stream. 

“Yeah yeah, give me a second.” Punz groaned as he cracked an eye open to read his chat, undoubtedly telling him to suck it up and continue. Foolish took a few slow steps forward, careful not to make any noise or draw attention to himself. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in as Punz closed his eyes again, giving Foolish the perfect opportunity to pounce. 

“WAKE UP!” Foolish screamed, grabbing at Punz’s shoulders and squeezing rapidly. A squeal escaped the blonde as he slid down in his seat, kicking his legs out and banging his shoes against the ground at the feeling. He broke out into high pitched giggles before he successfully peeled the grabby hands away from his body. He held them tightly above him, leaning his head back until he made eye contact with the offender.

“Whahat the fuck was thahat?!” Punz shouted, his cheeks glowing bright red. Foolish giggled at the reaction, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head slightly before continuing. 

“What the fuck was that?” Foolish countered through his laughter, both boys knowing he meant the outburst Punz had displayed just moments ago. “You did way more than you needed to just then, that was such an overreaction! What even happened?” 

“Nothing! Fuck off, Foolish, I’m streaming!” Punz shot up as he suddenly remembered he had hundreds of eyes watching him through computer screens, blushing deeper at the realization. He surged forward to switch the camera off but Foolish was faster, gripping both of Punz’s biceps and pulling him back against his chair. This made the blonde immediately burst into giggles again, scrunching his shoulders up before Foolish could even move his hands back towards his shoulders. “Foolish! S-Seriously, stohop!” 

“Tell me what happened, Punz,” Foolish wormed his hands between Punz’s neck and shoulders, his smile growing bigger when Punz’s laughter turned frantic. He wiggled his fingers experimentally, giggling with excitement when Punz began to plead and protest through his squeals. “No fucking way! This tickles you?” 

“Nohohoho! Foolish- Foolish stohop!” 

“Nah, this is more fun than sitting in the corner, sorry Punz.” 

“Buhut I’m streheheaming!” Punz pleaded, bringing his hands up to cover the growing blush that was spreading all over his face. Foolish spent a few more seconds tickling the poor boy, finishing it off with some torturous squeezes that made Punz let out a high pitched shriek- one that he knew would be instantly clipped and shared for the whole of the internet to see. He whined through his laughter at the thought, sliding down in his chair as much as he could until Foolish finally relented, letting Punz sink to the ground in a ball of giggles. 

“That was fun, huh?” Foolish giggled, leaning down and giving Punz a few playful pats on the back. He stood back up, flashing the webcam a smile and waving at the computer screen. “Hi chat! Hope you enjoyed the show!”

Punz groaned in response, still giggling and hiding his face out of embarrassment. He heard Foolish make his way back across the room to resume whatever he had been doing, and after a few minutes of trying to regain his composure, he climbed back into his chair to continue the game. He pressed the backs of his hands against his eyes to rub away the tears that he prayed nobody saw and tried to pretend like the last five minutes didn’t happen for the rest of the stream. 

Later on that night, his phone went off with a discord notification. He felt his cheeks heat up once again when he saw it was Foolish, sending him clip after clip of the tickle torture he had endured earlier in the day. Punz rolled his eyes, letting out a low growl and dropping his phone against his pillow. He decided to ignore Foolish for now and began plotting his revenge, getting himself ready to take the brunette apart the second he saw him next.

#lee!punz #ler!foolish #yaaaay thank u cal for the duo suggestion #augtickletober2023 #mcyt tickle #my stuff #tickletober #mushie ficlets

[everybodyshusband]

ditching chores/sneaking kisses

mushy may ; day twenty one !! (approx 3.6k words)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

this was meant to be romantic and it just turned very, very silly jdsfhd

————— 1 —————

The first thing Rain saw when he appeared in the summoning circle was a giant. Well, okay after he’d had a few seconds to fully take him all in he was pretty sure he was just an exceptionally tall earth ghoul, but giant worked well for the moment. When the noise, smoke and chaos calmed down, slithering back through the circle and into the ether of the pits, Rain tried to stand and take stock of his surroundings. Just as he managed to haul himself up into a standing position, something in his leg buckled but before he could hit the ground he found himself caught up in a strong pair of arms.

“Careful, kid. Don’t want you injuring yourself after only being here five seconds.”

Rain rolled his eyes. “Just because you’re a giant, doesn’t mean everyone around you is a kid, earthy.”

“Oh, he’s feisty!” Someone else’s voice rang out in the small stone room; a damp looking multi ghoul wrapped in an oversized grey blanket. He must be a new summon as well. “I think I’m going to like him.” His grin was sharp and infectious, Rain smiled back. Had he already made a friend?

The earth ghoul chuckled at their exchange. “My name’s Mountain. Do you have one?”

Rain tore his eyes away from the multi to pay attention to Mountain. “Uh huh,” he nodded. “Rain.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rain,” yet another voice spoke, but this one’s owner wasn’t a ghoul. His face was painted in intentional strokes of black and white, the markings around his eyes and cheeks clearly meant to resemble a skull and he was dressed entirely in liturgical vestments, his mitre bearing the mark of the Ghost Project. No way. Rain had heard whispers of a project of this nature in the Pit, nothing proven, nothing concrete; a division of the Old One’s church Up Top spreading His word through song all over the world. He hadn’t believed it at the time, it had all sounded too far fetched but… here it was.

“Papa Emeritus?”

The man—although he was a bit more than that if the rumours were true, wasn’t he—looked taken aback. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do?” Rain was shocked that he wasn’t aware of his own fame. “In the Pit, there’s been rumours of what you’ve been doing for what feels like forever.”

Papa tutted. “Interesting… This is what Swiss told me earlier.” At Rain’s questioning head tilt he apologised. “Ah, of course! Sorry, that’s Swiss there.” He pointed to the newly summoned multi ghoul. Swiss poked a hand out of his blanket and waves, still grinning. “He was summoned only a few minutes before you were.” He continued pointing out and naming all of the ghouls in the room, there are so many more than Rain originally thought he saw, too caught up in being pulled up to a different world, he supposed.

After explaining the basics to Rain—introducing him to his new pack, laying out the exact purpose of his summoning, what his role will be if he chooses to accept it—Papa smiled and pat him on the back. “I think that’s more than enough information for now though, hmm? Mountain, how about you take Rain to get settled in and Aether, you can do the same for Swiss?”

“Sounds perfect, Papa,” Mountain smiled, squeezing Rain from where his arm is still wrapped around his shoulder; Rain was back on his feet now, but Mountain never let him go properly, presumably still worried he wouldn’t remain steady on his feet once he’d started to walk around the room.

“C’mon, Rain.” He began to wrap a blanket identical to Swiss’ around Rain’s shoulders. It was much warmer than it looked. “I’ll show you around the den and the grounds if you’re feeling up to it.”

Rain nodded. “That sounds nice, thanks, Mountain.”

Mountain smiled and Rain had just enough time to notice that one of his front teeth had a tiny chip in it. He squeezed his arm around Rain just hard enough to pull him closer to the earth ghoul and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. Rain blushed “Cool! Alright, we’ve got a lot to cover. We should head off now before it gets too late.”

————— 2 —————

It had been a few weeks since Rain had been summoned now and he could happily say he was settling into life at the Ministry well. He was learning the parts for his music with Dew’s help and everyone said he and Swiss—who was taking his singing and guitar lessons from Dew, Aether and Papa— were progressing nicely. He wasn’t even the newest summon anymore! Two air ghoulettes had been summoned about a week after he and Swiss and they seemed to be adjusting well too. The four of them—Rain, Swiss, Cirrus and Cumulus—had become a group of their own of sorts. It wasn’t as if they didn’t spend time with the others, of course they did, but it was nice that the four of them were able to bond over being fresh to Earth and not understanding certain human customs that had evolved since the last time they’d all been Up Top when they were human.

He’d been settling into his chores now as well. His favourite, without a doubt, was helping Mountain in the greenhouses and gardens on the Abbey’s grounds. All he had to do was water the plants and regulate the humidity, but he was able to write off a whole day just to sit and talk with Mountain while he worked. Occasionally he’d lend a hand, but more often than not, Mountain insisted that Rain need not do anything but sit there and be good company for him.

His favourite day by far had been when he’d been helping the earth ghoul to weed and mulch his flower beds. The two of them had become covered in soil, roots and mulching hay and had ended the day by running off to the lake to clean themselves off, whooping with laughter the entire time. Before they’d run off to the lake however, Mountain had reached out a hand to brush a patch of dirt off of Rain’s cheek, no doubt leaving an equally dirty smudge behind in his wake but Rain didn’t mind. Especially when what had followed the brushing off was a quick, shy peck of Mountain’s lips on his cheek. The earth ghoul had come close enough for Rain to appreciate the light dusting of freckles covering his face from all his days working in the gardens, particularly concentrated on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Rain wanted to christen every single one with a kiss as gentle as the one Mountain had just given his cheek but before he could do so, the earth ghoul had pulled back and with a grin.

“Race you to the lake, raindrop,” he’d called. “Last one there is on dinner duty for a week!”

————— 3 —————

The few weeks after that had passed in a whirlwind of activity. Rain was busy every single day. Between taking on a few extra duties for a week or two as a favour for Zephyr after they’d been sequestered away to the infirmary and practising all the new songs he’d learnt on his bass at every single spare moment, he was running on empty. It was no surprise to anyone but Rain when he got sick.

“You were exhausted, waterlily,” Mountain explained gently as he stirred the bowl of soup he’d brought Rain to help cool it down. “You need to give your body and your mind space to relax from all the stress you’re putting yourself under. Open up?”

“I can feed myself, Mount,” Rain protested, keeping his mouth firmly closed.

“I know you can. But I want to help, so open.”

Rain rolled his eyes playfully as he opened his mouth for Mountain to spoon the soup into, holding back a sigh of pleasure as the warm soup soothed his scratchy throat.

“You need to find something you can do that lets you relax and release the stress of the day off of your shoulders,” Mountain explained, quickly putting a finger over Rain’s lips when he opened his mouth to protest. “Eat with your mouth closed, love,” he teased. Rain didn’t like to admit the butterflies that hearing the pet name in Mountain’s voice gave him, but it felt nice. “I know you have your bass, but at the moment it’s also stressing you out. It’s understandable, of course with the tour coming up soon, you want to be the best you can be before we head off.” Curse Mountain for always somehow knowing what Rain was going to say. “But at the moment it’s only going to make you worse if you’re stressing yourself out enough that you’re getting sick and unable to practise.”

Rain opened his mouth to protest again but this time, instead of telling him to be quiet, Mountain shut him up by putting another spoon of soup in his mouth, that bastard.

“Zephyr’s back from the infirmary soon though,” he mused. “So hopefully you’ll have less work to stress you out, but,” he continued. “If Zephyr’s still not up to doing everything when you’re better, you will ask someone to help you. A load meant for two people on top of practising for the tour isn’t sustainable or healthy for you, Rain. Can you promise me that?”

Rain nodded and quickly swallowed his mouthful of soup. “I promise, Mount. And… thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always,” Mountain smiled. “Are you sure you can manage feeding yourself the soup? I’m happy to stay if you need help,” he teased.

“I think I’ll be fine, thanks,” Rain grinned. You spooned those few mouthfuls perfectly though.”

Mountain laughed. “Good to know my skills aren’t going unappreciated.” He leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Rain’s forehead. His lips were surprisingly cool against Rain’s boiling head. “Call me if you need me for anything, alright? Any time of day and I’ll come running to help.” He got up off the side of Rain’s bed and flicked his bedside lamp on, flicking the overhead light off on his way to the door. Rain hadn’t even realised how the harsh light had been affecting him until Mountain turned it off. “Get well soon, Rainy,” he smiled, closing the door on his way out.

————— 4 —————

A few days after Rain recovered from his illness, he found himself back in the greenhouses, chatting the afternoon away with Mountain. Despite his offers to help, Mountain insisted that Rain just relax and not worry.

“I asked Mist to come in this morning and help with the humidity,” he explained. “You’ve met her, right? Oh, good! Either way, it’s all sorted, Rainy. Don’t worry about anything other than giving yourself time to rest.”

Rain had just nodded, secretly pleased for this time that he could spend with Mountain, free from chores and practice and responsibilities. It was autumn now and the leaves around the Ministry were turning every possible hue of orange, yellow and red. As well as this—and arguably more exciting in Rain’s eyes—Mountain’s army of caterpillars were beginning to emerge from their chrysalides as butterflies and flutter around the greenhouses. More than once, Rain had become somewhat of a butterfly magnet, with many of them landing on him after he’d sat still for a long enough period of time.

“Have you ever heard of butterfly kisses?”

Mountain’s voice was enough to startle both Rain and the butterfly that had found a perch on his finger. “Butterfly huh?” Was all the water ghoul could manage as he caught his breath from the unexpected fright.

“Butterfly kisses,” Mountain repeated. “They’re called that because it’s supposed to feel like butterfly wings caressing your skin.”

Rain tilted his head. The earth ghoul was so much less subtle than he thought himself to be. “I don’t think I get it,” he said, knowing full well the smirk on his face gave away that he understood exactly what Mountain meant. “Can you show me?”

Mountain grinned and nodded. “Give me your arm?” Rain obliged. “All I do is bring your arm up to my face,” he explained as he mimicked his words. “Then I get my eyes really close and blink, like that.”

Rain squirmed. “Ah, no, that tickles, Mount!”

The earth ghoul pouted exaggeratedly. “Do you think it will tickle on your face?”

Rain almost snorted. “You’re really not coming across as innocent as you wish you were, Mount,” he laughed. “But sure, go ahead, butterfly boy. Kiss me.”

Mountain obliged, moving even closer to the water ghoul, letting his breath ghost over his cheeks before fluttering his eyelashes over the soft skin there. His breath was warm but it soothed the tickle of his eyelashes enough that Rain didn’t have to squirm away. Although he’s not sure that he would have moved anyway, even if it had rendered him to a tickle-avoidant mess. He treasures his time with Mountain too much.

————— 5 —————

The night before the band goes away on tour is always cause for a big celebration, Mountain told him. This year, the Ministry is hosting a grand ball complete with fancy clothes—which is apparently just another way to say formal clothes, not fancy dress like Rain had hoped—and formal dances. The ghouls and Papa are all attending together and Mountain had already promised to stay with Rain for most of the night, not that Rain needed babysitting, but Sathanas, if he had to talk to an enormous room full of people for hours on end then he needed someone with him, if only to make sure he didn’t rip someone’s throat out if they tried to engage in yet another round of small talk with him.

It’s safe to say that Rain had… well, perhaps blossomed is the right word, in the few months since he’d been summoned. He was definitely more comfortable in telling people to fuck off before he killed them, at least. After a few months of trying to play the role of a human, he was finally growing more comfortable in presenting himself as the demonic hell beast he was.

A sudden hand on his shoulder interrupted his musings and made him jump.

“Sorry, raincloud,” Mountain soothed. “It’s just me.”

“How goeth the search for drinks, my dear sir?” Rain joked, recalling Dew’s complaints that these events always felt stuffy and overly formal, like those renaissance movies he pretends to hate.

“Alas, loyal comrade,” Mountain replied, playing along. “Lady Cumulus snatched them from mine own hand whilst I was returning to you with my spoils.” He got down on one knee and threw his hands up in the air. “How will you ever forgive me?”

Rain threw his head back laughing. “I’m sure I’ll survive, Mount. Now get up off the floor, you’re going to ruin your pants and Aether’s going to yell at you if he has to sew on another knee patch for you.”

“I’ll just ask Cirrus then,” Mountain retorted, obeying Rain all the same. “I’m still in her good books.”

“Nope. I think they’re conspiring against you. Remember last time you asked her to mend something she never gave it back?” He nudged the earth ghoul with his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure the two of them are convinced that if they slowly steal your clothes over time, eventually you’ll give up on wearing them altogether.”

“I– What?” Mountain spluttered. “If they want to see me naked they could just ask.”

“Yeah but they’re freaky,” Rain stage whispered. “They wanna make it happen…”

Mountain blushed, no doubt thinking of all the ways he could make it happen more quickly. Luckily for his sake, music soon began to trickle through the mingling crowds, inviting them all to begin dancing. How the Ministry got the speaker system to work so well, Rain would never know. Maybe they had hundreds hidden all throughout the ballroom?

His train of thought was interrupted by Mountain returning to their earlier game of jest, bowing low and holding out his hand. “Lord Rain of the-bedroom-right-down-the-hallway-from-me.” Rain couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up inside him from that. “May I please have this dance?”

He placed his hand in Mountain’s. “You may, Lord Mountain,” he smiled, thrilled when the earth ghoul bent down even further to kiss the back of his hand, stomach fluttering when he refused to break eye contact until his lips broke contact with Rain’s hand. “Come,” he announced, shifting his grip on Mountain’s hand to be able to hold it more normally. “Let us dance.”

————— + 1 —————

The tour bus is alive with energy. They’re only a few hours into their journey but all of them are buzzing with a mixture of nerves and excitement, even if all they’re doing is chatting amongst themselves quietly.

Swiss’ legs are currently thrown over Rain’s lap, the two of them gossiping quietly about their various hookups since being summoned. Rain is ninety percent sure Cumulus is listening in on their conversation but he doesn’t mind, she was the one who taught him how to do that thing with his tongue he was just explaining to Swiss.

“So…” Swiss leans in close and glances around furtively. The multi ghoul can never resist an opportunity for some dramatic flair. “When did you and Mountain hookup?”

“Me and Mount?” Rain asks, surprised. “We haven’t.”

Swiss sighs. “You don’t have to lie to me, Rainy, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I was just telling you all the ways Dew made me cry for him, I think we’re past the point of shame, rainbow.”

“I’m telling you the truth! We haven’t…”

“Oh, but you want to.” It’s not a question, it doesn’t need to be one.

“Of course I do, have you fucking seen him?”

“Have you fucking seen his dick?” Swiss leans in close and uses his hands to measure an obscene length. There’s no way he’s telling the truth. “Fucking huge, Rainy, it’s insane.”

Rain whines. “Don’t tease me, Swiss, fuck.”

“Fine, fine,” Swiss relents. “But you’ve at least kissed right? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, there’s no way that nothing’s happened between you.”

“I mean… kind of?” Rain replies. “We’ve kissed but not… y’know, on the lips or anything?”

Swiss’ eyes feel like they’re boring a hole into his soul. When he speaks, his voice is deadpan. “Are you fucking shitting me, Rainy.”

“No?”

Swiss looks like he’s about to scream.

Aether’s voice calls out from his game of cards with Dew. “Swiss, are you alright back there?”

“No, I’m dying, Aeth,” Swiss yells back at the same time as Rain says: “He’s fine, he’s just being a dramatic prick.”

“What’s all this about a dramatic prick?” Mountain grins as he takes a seat next to Rain.

“Mountain!” Swiss says, moving forward fast as lightning to grab the earth ghoul by the collar of his shirt. “Why the fuck haven’t you kissed Rain yet, it’s killing me, Mount. You hear me?” He shakes Mountain back and forth violently. “Kill. Ing. me.”

“I’ve kissed him,” Mountain says simply, miraculously unperturbed by the seemingly wild multi ghoul shaking him around.

Swiss pulls him even closer before releasing him. “Show me.”

Mountain sighs and looks over at Rain for permission but he’s smiling and his smile is always so infectious that Rain can’t help mimic it the second he sees it pulling at the earth ghoul’s lips.

“I’ve kissed him here,” Mountain starts, kissing the top of Rain’s head. “And here, and here,” he continues, brushing gentle kisses over Rain’s cheek and forehead in mimicry of those events that feel like they happened a lifetime ago. “Then I gave him butterfly kisses all over his face.” Rain scrunches up his eyes to combat the gentle tickling sensation that Mountain’s eyelashes are spreading across his face. “And last night I kissed his hand, like this.” This time it’s Rain who offers the hand out first, Mountain taking gladly and holding eye contact the entire time, exactly like the previous night. “But you’re right, Swiss. There is one spot I’ve missed.” He takes Rain’s face in his hands, cradling it gently in his hands. Mountain barely has to open his mouth to ask before Rain is nodding vigorously and surging forward to connect their lips together with an elated sigh.

It doesn’t take much for Mountain to deepen the kiss and pull Rain onto his lap and as soon as he does, Swiss is whooping and running up and down the length of the bus singing praises. Rain leans back to take a breather just in time to see Dew yank Swiss down to sit with him and Aether, telling him to get a hold on himself. Rain doesn’t miss the way Dew smirks when Aether presses a wad of cash into his hand, sighing in defeat.

“I think they were betting on us,” he whispers against Mountain’s lips, resting their foreheads together as they both take a breather.

“Oh, they definitely were,” the earth ghoul confirms. “I heard Cumulus and Dew negotiating terms weeks ago. Droplet may have just won that money from Aether but he’s going to have to give it all to Lus now because we kissed on the bus, not just before we left the Abbey.”

Rain laughs in disbelief. “You sly bastard,” he huffs out. “Did you wait to kiss me just so Dew wouldn’t win the bet?”

“Yep,” Mountain admits proudly. “What?” He asks when he sees Rain shaking his head and laughing. “You didn’t expect me to let Lus lose, did you?”

“Of course not, Mount,” Rain assures him. “I’m far too scared of her.”

Mountain hums in agreement. “She’s fucking terrifying, I do not need to be on her bad side. Forgive me?”

“Hmm,” Rain teases. “I’m not sure… Kiss me again and we’ll see?”

#mushy may #day twenty one !! #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #everyone from era iv is mentioned at least once #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #husband ficlets

[forlorn-crows]

Mushy May Day 8: First Time

SMALL DICK MOUNTAINDEW LETS GOOOO

Pairings: Mountain/Dew

Words: 2170

"So, do you have fins like, all over or?" 

Mountain runs his fingertips along the smooth gills at Dewdrop's throat, feeling how they give under his touch. The tiny fins that run alongside them undulate under Mountain’s attention. 

He’s stared at them ever since their first meeting, longing to touch. He hasn’t, all this time. But they’re both relaxed in bed, sharing a weak joint between them and talking about anything that floats across their minds. It was the puff of smoke that escaped Dew’s flared gills that caught the earth ghoul’s eye, the weed making it easy to just . . . reach out and touch. 

Dew makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “Not everywhere. I mean, you’ve seen these, and the ones on my arms and stuff.” The water ghoul holds one arm out, twisting it this way and that to show off the long lines of fins running along the underside of his forearm. “I have a couple more on my ribs and my back. I think.”

Mountain hums, leaning back to run his hand down Dew’s arm. He cradles it by the wrist in one hand, tracing the fins with the other. They’re pointier than the ones that surround his gills, but not by much. Still flexible and translucent, and the same minty hue. 

“Would you show me?” Dew’s fingers twitch in Mountain’s hand. His gaze is an indiscernible mix of emotions, flitting everywhere but the earth ghoul’s eyes. His silence weighs heavy between them. 

Mountain’s hand stills over his arm. “Sorry, you don’t have to—”

"You really want to see?" The look that settles on his face is almost prideful, fins rippling along his arms. 

Mountain smiles at the question. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, taking back his arm so he can pull his t-shirt over his head. Mountain can see the ghost of a smile on the water ghoul’s own face, hidden behind the fabric. He tosses his shirt to the other side of the bed. “You’ve just never asked before, so . . . I don’t know,” Dew shrugs. 

Dew preens under Mountain’s gaze, angling his torso so he can get a better look at the fins running along his slightly protruding ribs. These fins are delicate too, as short as the ones framing his gills. But they're fluffier, curly almost, and accented by shiny indentations of the skin.

“Are those—?”

“Scales, yeah,” Dew answers for him, scooting closer so the earth ghoul can see the iridescent flakes scattered between the fins. Mountain runs a finger along them, feather-light. They’re the same light gray tone as his skin, almost indistinguishable at first. But the shine reveals their shape. The scales are softer than he’d expect, not as rough as an actual fish—smooth, more flesh-like. 

Dew huffs a laugh as he traces a line near his waist, jumping slightly. “Tickles,” he says with a grin. Mountain notes the hint of a blush creeping up along his collarbone as he motions for him to turn around. The water ghoul shuffles so his back is to him, scooping up his long silvery hair and pulling it over one shoulder. 

“I think there’s scales back there, too,” Dew offers. Mountain leans in close, close enough for his breath to fan out over the long singular fin along his spine. This one is curly like the ones on his ribs and whiter in color. Indeed, scales flank the length of this fin too, most concentrated at the center of his back and spanning more randomly outward. 

“Wish I had stuff like this,” Mountain muses, running his hand over Dew’s spine. 

He arches a little at the touch, a stray strand of hair falling over his back. “What, you don’t have, like, patches of moss all over you or something?” Dew chuckles. 

The earth ghoul shuffles back, encouraging the other to turn back around. “Uh no, not really,” he laughs. “All I have are freckles, I guess. And the big sheep horns.”

There’s a little gleam in the water ghoul’s eyes as he reaches over for another puff of the joint. “Can I see?” he asks, putting it to his lips and taking a slow drag. 

“I suppose that would be fair, wouldn’t it?” Dew curls his lips into a smile, watching as Mountain shucks off his shirt too. He exhales a slow trickle of smoke, offering up the end of the joint. The earth ghoul takes it with a quiet thanks and leans back on his hand while he takes a drag, bare chest on full display. 

Dew leans in and abruptly pokes him in the chest, causing a premature puff of smoke to burst from Mountain’s lips. “Hey,” he coughs. 

“You got a big one right there,” Dew smiles deviously, poking another spot a little to the left. “And there. Yeah you’re pretty freckly, earth boy.”

Mountain rolls his eyes and reaches over to snuff out the end. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, an immature retort. 

Dew’s expression softens, hand hovering over Mountain’s side now. “You think so?”

The earth ghoul looks down at him warmly. “Yeah, I do,” he says simply. His expression becomes unreadable again, but a renewed blush dusts the apples of his cheeks as he continues poking at random freckles on Mountain’s torso. His hand brushes close to his navel, along the dark line of hair stretching from his waistline and dipping below the elastic of his sweatpants. 

“You’ve got a nice, uh—don’t humans have a word for it?” he mumbles, gaze fixed squarely on it.

Mountain’s stomach jumps when Dew’s hand dips lower, just below his belly button. “Happy trail,” he mutters. 

“Yeah, that.”

Mountain looks down at the smaller ghoul practically draped over him now, finding it very hard not to smell the freshwater scent of his hair, or notice the tiny twin lines of fins running down the hollows of his hips. He swallows hard, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Dew,” he near-whispers, eyes tracking lower until they hit his waistband.

“Yeah?” The water ghoul’s just as breathless, still entranced by the hair on Mountain’s torso. 

“Can I—”

“Thank Lucifer." Dew launches himself at Mountain, wrapping his arms around his neck and melting into him. Mountain captures him easily, holding him close and pressing their lips together. They groan into the kiss, opening up for each other immediately, tasting hungrily. It's a little uncoordinated, but that's just fine. Dew whines as the taste of herb and flora melt across his tongue; underneath it, something uniquely earth ghoul, almost woodsy. Mountain shivers at the way his hands touch at the small of Dew’s back, floating over the soft fins now dancing under his fingers. 

The kisses they share are eager, exploratory, paired with wandering hands, experimental teeth, and peppered moans of encouragement. Dew can't help but roll his hips against the taller ghoul, earning a soft gasp as his half-hard cock drags against Mountain's.

“Fuck, your body,” the earth ghoul groans. He rolls them over so Dew’s on the bottom, bracketing his hands around the halo of silver hair that pools beneath him. Mountain shakes his head, mouth slack in awe. "You are . . . so beautiful, Dewdrop," he says softly. That rose tinge creeps back down to Dew's collarbone.

"Likewise," he breathes before dragging Mountain back down to him. The pace is quicker, more demanding, and oh so dizzying. Dew barely registers Mountain's hands moving all over his body until they're dipping tentatively under his waistband. The earth ghoul pulls away, and Dew can't stop the protest from tumbling feebly out of his mouth.

"Mm, Mount, wait–"

"Is this okay?" 

They stare at each other, simultaneously freezing when they register the other had spoken. Both are breathless, eyes flickering over the other's face.

“What,” Mountain whispers, face turning up in concern.

Dew’s face goes hot. “It’s just, um—” He gestures vaguely at his crotch, unable to find the words. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath. “It’s small,” he says, closer to mouthing the words than vocalizing them.

Mountain’s face softens. He cradles the side of the water ghoul’s face, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone soothingly. His other hand rubs circles over the hollow of Dew’s hip.

“Look at me, water lily.” The pet name makes Dew’s breath hitch, eyes fluttering open of their own accord. Mountain’s smiling down at him, frustratingly handsome. “I promise you, nothing about this body would ever disappoint me.”

“But you—”

Mountain cuts him off. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes,” Dew says, the answer obvious. 

“Then let me show how you have nothing to worry about.” Mountain settles down onto his elbows, slotting a thigh between Dew’s legs. The water ghoul huffs at the contact, heart still hammering in his chest. Mountain’s face hovers over his own, so close his breath tickles his face when he asks: “Okay?”

Dew nods and loops his arms around Mountain’s neck once more, slotting their mouths together in a gentle kiss. Dew sighs into it when that warmth settles back into his stomach, deepening the kiss with renewed fervor. Mountain smiles against his mouth, allowing himself to fully melt against the smaller ghoul. 

He groans when their bare chests meet once more, hips already twitching up against Mountain’s thigh. “Please, you can—will you—”

“Yeah, let me—” Mountain kisses down his jaw and lands at the spot just below Dew’s ear, sucking gently. His hands descend their same path down to his waistband. Dipping his fingers under the elastic, he pulls them down this time, shimmying them off Dew’s skinny legs and tossing them next to their shirts. 

Mountain gives an almost pained groan when the water ghoul lies fully naked beneath him. His cock sits flush against his belly, the little head shiny with precum. The fins along his hip bones frame the hard few inches perfectly. There’s a grouping of scales around the base, trailing along his inner thighs and scattering downward along his legs. There’s some ruffly fins along the sides of his calves, too, milky white like the one along his spine. 

“Absolutely perfect,” Mountain breathes. He dips down for another kiss, almost bruising in its intensity. Overwhelming in the best of ways. The earth ghoul slides off his own pants without breaking their kiss, kicking them off when they reach his ankles so he can reach down and wrap a large hand around Dew’s cock, enveloping it fully.

Dew yelps against his mouth, digging his nails into Mountain’s shoulders. “Oh fuck, you just—” The earth ghoul swipes his thumb across the head, causing Dew to cut off his sentence with a startled moan. “Let me—shit, lemme see you, too,” he begs, weakly shoving at his chest and propping himself up on one elbow. 

Dew looks at Mountain’s face first, currently slack-jawed and staring at him with a mixture of wonder and lust. Then he glances downwards, immediately groaning at the sight of his dick completely covered by just one of Mountain’s hands. But just behind that . . .

“You—” Dew stammers. 

Mountain bites his lip. “Yeah,” he says simply, answering the question Dew doesn't have to ask. 

“Like me?” he whispers, almost reverently. 

“Told you, you have nothing to worry about,” he says kindly.

The source of Dew’s awe is, unsurprisingly, Mountain’s dick, hanging fully chubbed next to the hand around Dew’s own. The trail of hair he could stare at forever extends around its base and over his balls, invitingly fluffy. The shaft isn’t as skinny as his, and a little bit longer, but it’s definitely not what he expected to see on a big, tall earth ghoul such as Mountain. 

It’s . . . better, actually. Would probably fit comfortably in Dew’s lithe hands, and in other places. The thought makes his own cock kick in Mountain’s hand, jolting him from his stupor. 

“Fuck,” he groans, fin-tipped tail twitching against the sheets. “Come back down here, please.”

Mountain chuckles and slots their bodies together once more, nuzzling into the crook of Dew’s neck. He mouths at it gently, utterly too relaxed in comparison to the way the hand around the water ghoul’s dick unravels, allowing Mountain’s own to rest next to Dew’s before closing it over them both and giving a firm squeeze. 

“Oh–”

“Shit,” Mountain finishes, brushing his knuckles through the droplets of precum on Dew’s stomach as he tugs his hand upwards. “Shit.” 

Dew bucks into his fist, that warmth blooming in his belly at a far too rapid rate. “That’s good, fuck that feels good,” he pants, exposing his neck further. 

“Just like that, water lily, just like that.” Mountain rolls his hips into it too, groaning against Dew’s neck. Pleasure bubbles up Dew’s spine at the second utterance of the nickname, arching into Mountain’s touch, unable to resist chasing that feeling through friction. 

It’s quiet for a few blissful moments, the silence broken only by the slide of slick skin and indulgent moans. 

"Fuck,” Dew utters after a delicious flick of Mountain’s wrist, “I think 'm gonna cum like this,"

"Please, oh fuck, please do."

#if you see any mistakes NO YOU DIDNT #the band ghost #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #mountaindew #mountain my love #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop x mountain #mountain x dewdrop #mushy may 2023 #ficlet #but not really is 2k who are we kidding here #im here to make you all believe my small dick mountain agenda

[miasmaghoul]

Mushy May - Day 4

Prompt: First Kiss

Rating: Teen Pairing: Aether/Rain Contains: hurt/comfort, anxiety, a panic attack, first-time glamouring, Rain having a Bad Time and Aether making it better Word Count: ~3k (lmao what am I doing)

Summary: Rain feels like he's drowning. Aether helps him surface.

“It’s a lot to get used to,” Dew had told him a week ago, holding out a pile of black fabric, “you gotta practice while you can.”

He’d offered to help. To teach Rain how to breathe properly with his gills glamoured, how to cope with the added restriction of their stage costumes. Rain, prideful thing that he is, had refused. Of course he had. Had shrugged off Dew’s words and waved away the offer of help. He was certain he could manage on his own - he hardly planned on using his full glamour anyway, so what was the point in practicing? Besides, if Dew could do it then so could he. Dewdrop had given him a withering look, followed by a scoff.

“Whatever, wet boy. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rain had dismissed him with an exaggerated eye roll, returning to the very important task of filing his claws, and had promptly forgotten about the whole affair.

Until now. 

Because now, huddled in a damp corner of their venue’s shower room, Rain finds himself thinking the unthinkable: 

I should have listened to Dewdrop.

Everything feels too close, too tight. This form, this woefully human shape he’s been forced to take, brings with it an unexpected, crushing pressure. The uniform doesn’t help - it’s all skin tight, the fabric scratching at every inch of him. He feels flayed open, pink and raw; it’s visceral and wholly unsettling, but the vanishing of his gills is far and away the worst part. 

Rain paws at his own chest, tugging the knot of his tie in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. His mask and balaclava sit across the room, tossed away the moment he’d managed to get his shaky fingers to cooperate. It’s only been a few minutes since he stumbled his way in here, drawn by the presence of water and the oddly comforting scent of mildew, but Rain feels like he’s been suffering for years.

He can’t stop trembling, clutching his knees to his chest and fighting the razors in his throat. Clawing with his stupid, blunt, human nails at the places his gills should be - the sides of his neck, the ridges of his ribs. Trying to force them open again through his shirt, to rip away the binding magic trapping him in this sorry state. Gasping. Choking. Suffocating.

Satanas, he’s fucking drowning.

He’s drowning and it’s his own damn fault.

It shouldn’t be this bad. Nothing should be this bad. But from the moment Copia had said that incantation, had bound all of the ghouls to these horribly restrictive forms for the night, Rain hasn’t been able to catch his breath. Dew’s words swim though his head in a vague whisper of regret, one that Rain tries in vain to shake off. It only makes him dizzier.

There’s a call from somewhere outside the attached dressing room - twenty minutes til soundcheck - and it does nothing to help the tightness in Rain’s chest. His lungs ache, his throat burns, and his heart feels like it’s about to crash right through his ribcage. The edges of his vision are darkening already, and he can’t tell if it’s from the hot tears gathered in his lashes or a lack of air. Maybe both.

He’s going to die here. He knows he is. Tucked into a tight ball in some dingy shower, alone and terrified, on the night of his first ritual. The others will find nothing but a pile of damp clothes and the stink of sulfur, their water ghoul having discorporated and vanished back to the Pit. There’s no way around it. 

Rain hugs his knees and whimpers, feeling the knife between his ribs dig in deeper. He’s panting now - shallow, desperate hiccups of air. They’re all he can manage as the walls close in on him. The crushing weight of his own foolishness slams against his skull - he swears he can hear it, a hollow echo. Like distant footsteps on cold stone. Rain’s eyes slip shut, the tears begin to fall, and all he can do is wait for his lungs to give out.

“Rain?”

He jolts at the voice - a distant, low rumble that he doesn’t recognize. Do ghouls have a grim reaper? A being sent to collect their infernal essence and return it home? Is that who’s calling his name? Rain doesn’t know, and he doesn’t answer. He can’t. His voice went with his ability to breathe.

“Rain, where are you?”

It’s like he’s underwater. The voice is so foreign, lilting and accented in a way he can’t place. But it’s…soothing, somehow. Familiar, like a comfortable piece of clothing. He wants to lift his head but finds it immovable. Filled with cement. Those echoing footsteps in his head grow louder with each passing moment, and as his consciousness fades Rain swears he feels himself being lifted.

The next thing he feels is…warmth. It’s so warm. He’s so warm.

“Rain?” A warbling echo at the edge of his mind. “Can you hear me?”

There’s a weight on his chest, but it’s…different than it was before he felt the world slip away. Steady pressure, gentle, running the length of his sternum. It’s wonderfully grounding, puts him so at ease that he nearly forgets why he was so -

Rain’s eyes fly open and he sucks in air like a man starved, great gulps of the stuff that make his throat ache all over again. He thrashes, arches against the pressure on his chest and finds it doesn’t give. Rather, it holds him steady, keeps him pinned to - is he on a couch?

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” It’s that voice again, the one he somehow both did and didn’t know. “You’re okay Rain, I’ve got you.”

Whoever it is, he finds it easy to believe them. Rain blinks as he catches his breath, clears the wet haze from his eyes. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but it certainly isn’t a water-stained ceiling. At length he manages to turn his still-heavy head to the side. When he does, he’s met with a silver mask...and a pair of familiar lavender eyes. 

“Ae…Aether?” The name comes out raspy and worn, like Rain had been screaming. The other ghoul nods, and Rain realizes that the pressure on his chest is Aether’s hand. His shirt is unbuttoned, and that large, callused palm feels heavenly against his clammy skin. “What…how…”

“The Cardinal sent me to get you for soundcheck,” he explains, eyes scanning Rain’s face. The accent is fascinating, but now that Rain knows who he’s hearing he can pick out the familiar timbre of Aether’s usual voice. “Found you in the bathroom, pale as anything.”

“Couldn’t breathe,” Rain manages after a few moments, clearing his throat with a wince. “Couldn’t…without my gills, I -”

“I figured as much,” Aether murmurs. Rain gives the other ghoul a quizzical look, and Aether cracks the tiniest smile. “This happened to Dew too, the first time. Didn’t he tell you?” Rain stares at him, wide-eyed.

“What did?”

“The panic,” Aether says gently. “You had a panic attack, Rain.”

Rain blinks at him. 

A…a panic attack? No, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right.

“No,” he murmurs, brow furrowed. “No it - it was the binding spell. It…it took my gills and I-”

“It did, yes,” Aether confirms, canting his head. “But you’re breathing fine without them now, aren’t you?” 

Rain blinks again, finally taking full stock of himself. Of the rise and fall of his ribcage and the now-steady thud of his heart, and finds that he can’t argue. His chest still aches, but it feels more like muscle strain and less like breathlessness. It feels like the almost pleasant burn that follows his lengthy swims in the abbey’s lake, or one of his more energetic romps with Swiss. Rain brings a hand to his throat, just to be sure, and Aether laughs through his nose.

“See?” Aether pats his chest, a reassuring gesture. “Just fine without them.”

Silence blankets them, and it gives Rain time to think. He hasn’t spent a whole lot of time with the ghoul before him in the months since his summoning. Not for lack of wanting - he likes Aether, (very much, if he were to be honest), but with the hectic nature of pre-tour life there hadn’t been much of a chance to…connect. A few shared meals, a handful of fleeting touches in the common room - ones he revisited in the comfort of his own bed - and one very close call on the tour bus were all Rain had to show for his interest.  

So yes, he does like Aether. More importantly, though, he trusts Aether. The other ghoul had earned it with his calm demeanor, the way he carries himself, the way he treats others. They all rely on him, even the Cardinal. That’s probably why he’d been sent to fetch Rain in the first place - Copia knew he would actually do it, not just sneak off in an effort to shirk their duties. If it were any other ghoul, Rain would simply wave off the idea of what he’d just experienced being something as paltry, as…human, as a panic attack.  

But it isn’t another ghoul. It’s Aether. Aether, with his kind eyes and soft smile. Aether, with his broad body and gentle nature. Aether, who is currently rubbing slow circles into his warming skin. Rain realizes in a delayed sort of way that the ghoul’s other hand is in his hair, scratching lightly at the place where his horns should be. He wants to purr with it, but it comes out as a deep hum instead. Aether chuckles.

“I’ll take that as a sign that you’re feeling better,” he murmurs, and Rain can’t deny that he’s right. He rests a hand on top of the one on his chest and gives Aether a shy nod.

“Yeah,” he huffs, voice still strained, “some.”

“Good. Do you think you can sit up?” 

Rain isn’t sure he wants to. Aether’s hands feel so nice, his presence so calming, and Rain doesn’t want to lose either one. Voices in the hall bring him back a bit, though; right, he has a job to do here. He heaves out a harsh exhale and nods, giving Aether’s hand a squeeze. The other ghoul sits back on his heels and Rain sighs at the loss of his touch. He braces himself and forces his body upright, grunting with the effort of swinging his legs over the edge of the couch.

The pain hits him all at once. 

“Oh, my fucking head,” he groans, hunching and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Shit.”

“Headache? Dew had a nasty one too.” Those large hands grip his wrists and give a coaxing tug. “You’re only going to make it worse doing that,” Aether chides. “Here, let me help.”

Rain isn’t sure how he can, given the fact that he’s pretty sure there’s an ice pick lodged in his brain, but he obliges. Allows Aether to bring his hands down and rest them on his own thighs. The other ghoul nudges his shoulder and Rain reluctantly raises his head, finding Aether knelt between his splayed legs. The sight sends a swoop of something entirely inappropriate through his belly, and Rain tries his best to ignore it. It’s hard to do when Aether cups his face with both hands, rough thumbs dragging over his cheekbones. The other ghoul gives him a smile and Rain swallows hard.

“Try to relax, alright? This might feel a bit…odd.”

Rain blinks owlishly, opens his mouth to speak, but the words die on his tongue as a wave of hot pressure fills his sinuses. It travels up behind his eyes, fills his ears and skull, wraps around his brainstem and trickles down his spinal cord. It only lasts a few seconds, and as the sensation fades Rain finds every bit of pain and lingering discomfort fading right along with it. He feels lighter than air, dizzy in a way that plasters a dazed look on his face. 

“There we are,” Aether coos, pulling his hands back. “How’s that? Better?”

“What was that?” Rain hardly recognizes the syrupy sound of his own slurred voice. Aether lets out a soft snort, resting his palms on Rain’s bony knees.

“Just a little something to take the edge off,” he says with a wiggle of his fingers. Rain finds himself entranced by the way Aether’s rings glint in the low light of the room. “I can’t do much beyond pain relief in this sorry state,” Aether gestures at his own glamoured body, “but that should at least be enough to get you through the ritual.”

Rain offers a slow nod, but he isn’t really focused on the words. His - well, everything, really, has gone fuzzy. Pleasantly warm and tingly, like he’d been wrapped in an electric blanket. He feels…safe, he thinks is the word for it. Anchored in a way he certainly wasn’t before Aether had rescued him from his breathless spiral. That seems like a distant memory now, a blip on the radar. All he can feel is a delightful buzz in the back of his head and the grounding weight of Aether’s hands on his knees.

“Rain? Are you still with me?” The ghoul blinks, refocusing on the masked face before him. He nods again, gaze bouncing between those stunning lavender eyes and plush lips. 

Those lips…

“Yeah,” he breathes, gripping his own thighs, “yeah, I…I’m…” 

He probably shouldn’t be staring at that unbearably pretty mouth. Shouldn’t be imagining how Aether’s chapped lips would feel on his. What he should do is say thank you. Tell Aether how appreciative he is of his help, of his care. He should say it and offer a handshake, or maybe a hug. Something small, but still affectionate. Something he won’t regret once the fuzziness in his brain fades. 

He doesn’t mean to lean in. Not really. He shouldn’t, no matter how much he wants to. No matter how much he’s wanted to for the past few months. 

But, well, he is leaning in. He’s leaning in and Aether isn’t pulling back. In fact, Rain’s pretty sure he’s tilting his head. Making space. Angling himself so his mask isn’t in the way and oh fuck he’s really going to do this.

When they kiss, Rain’s mind goes quiet.

It isn’t long. Isn’t deep or wet or messy. What it is, is wonderfully simple - a humble, chaste meeting of the lips. Short and sweet and somehow completely, utterly perfect. Rain pulls back just enough to let Aether see the enormous grin he can feel splitting his face, and to his delight the other ghoul returns it.

“I was wondering when we’d get around to that,” Aether says with amusement, squeezing Rain’s knees. Rain huffs out a laugh.

“Me too,” he admits, “maybe not quite like that, but I’m not going to complain.” 

“Neither am I.” Aether’s smile is devastating, wide and bright. “But as much as I’d like to carry on, I’m afraid we’ve got a job to do.”

Rain sighs, nodding - he’s held them all up long enough. He busies himself buttoning his shirt and tries not to mourn the loss of Aether’s hands when the other ghoul wanders over to one of the vanities on the far wall. He doesn’t have to mourn for long, though. Only for the time it takes for Aether to fetch his discarded tie, mask and balaclava. Rain eyes them with more than a little trepidation, his stomach giving a weak flip. His discomfort must be obvious - Aether lays a hand on his shoulder and holds him steady.

“It’s alright,” he promises, sitting at Rain’s side. “Let me help.”

Aether is so very gentle with him. So much so that it makes Rain blush. He talks through everything he does - knotting Rain’s tie, sliding on his balaclava, tucking back his hair. Aether checks in on him with every step, and Rain doesn’t think he has enough words for how grateful he feels. There’s still an edge of unease settling in his chest, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. 

Aether tells him about how things went with Dew the first time he’d had his gills glamoured. Tells Rain that he needs to have a talk with their newly minted fire ghoul about ways to cope so the panic doesn’t rear its ugly head again. Rain promises he will - his own pride isn’t worth the black hole in his chest.

“There we are,” Aether remarks with one final tuck of a particularly stubborn curl, “well done.” Rain could chirp at the praise, and at the way Aether’s hand lingers on his cheek. “Last step,” he adds after a moment, “and I think you should do this one.”

Aether holds up his mask, and Rain tries not to cringe at the very obvious scuff across its right cheek. From where he’d tossed it on the ground, he imagines. Hopefully it’ll buff out. He accepts the offering with a small nod and raises the mask to his face, stretching the straps to slip it over his head.

“Oh, hang on,” Aether says suddenly, and Rain looks over at him just in time to watch the other ghoul slide his own mask up with a thumb. “One more thing.”

Aether leans in and kisses him for real this time - lush and full, unyielding. Rain drops his mask in favor of grabbing hold of Aether’s square jaw, luxuriating in the feel of the other ghoul’s lips on his. It’s over far too soon, but the glimmer in Aether’s eye when he pulls away is full of promise. 

“For good luck,” he lilts, and Rain goes warm all over. Aether fixes his mask, Rain slips on his own, and together they stand. Aether gives Rain’s tie one final adjustment before nodding, giving his chest a pleased pat. “Now let’s get going before they send in the cavalry.” Rain nods, fiddling with the end of his tie.

“Thank you,” he says softly, the words long overdue. “For everything.” Aether hums and takes hold of Rain’s hand, thumbing over his knuckles.

“My pleasure,” he croons, and Rain would do anything to kiss him again. But for now, that will have to wait.

For now, the feel of Aether’s hand around his own is enough. 

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #mushy may #rain ghoul #aether ghoul #aether/rain #aether x rain #this is just a full fic at this point #panic attack tw

[walkawaytall]

29! :3

Hey, look, I'm finally getting around to writing ficlets from this list I kept secret like a week later

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

29. visiting their home for the first time

“Did you ever go there?”

Han shakes his head, chin brushing against her hair with the movement. “Never got the chance.”

“Mmm,” Leia hums, pressing her cheek against his chest. “Makes sense. We didn’t have much of a seedy underbelly.”

“Tell me about it?” he asks, paying close attention to her expression. He doesn’t want to upset her, and they’re still so new to this not-wanting-to-upset-each-other thing, he knows he’ll probably make a misstep.

A small smile breaks out on her face, though, and he knows he has chosen his question well. She looks at him, reaching up to brush soft and careful fingers across his brow bone. “Close your eyes,” she whispers.

He does as she says, reminding her aloud of how well he follows directions when she’s nice about it, which earns him a playful nudge with her elbow.

She laces her fingers through his and describes green forests and snow-capped mountains and lush grass under bare feet; the summer sun causing freckles to appear on her mother’s arms and her own; the winter chill forming a layer of ice thick enough to skate across on the surface of the pond nearest the palace.

And the palace…The palace. Leia whispers the word reverently before walking him through great big doors and airy hallways, bedrooms with antechambers and a kitchen large enough to need half a dozen cooks.

He asks which room was her favorite.

“My father’s study,” she says, and so vividly describes the hearth and after-dinner card games and her father asking first her mother, then her, to dance around the room during laughter-filled nights, that Han almost feels as if he’s there himself.

“Think I’d’ve even been allowed in the building?” he teases, though there is far more insecurity in his words than he dares to admit.

Leia gasps sharply, a chastising sort of noise, as if he should be ashamed for even thinking such a thing. “Of course,” she says, fingers brushing over his brow again. “They would welcome anyone who makes me as happy as you do.”

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