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carpkoinobori · 2 months

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[†] thursday girl — giselle x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

summary: you debut in SM’s newest girl group. The industry isn’t what you thought it’d be. It’ll be fine, right? or , more accurately: a girl’s guide to breaking all ten commandments.

pairing: giselle x aespa member!reader

to be honest the dynamic is more like the apple x the snake x eve

tags: angst, happy and open ending, literally just angst though, reader is raised catholic

wc: 7.3k

cw: dieting, eating disorders, religious trauma, catholic guilt, homophobia, internalized homophobia, comphet, mild implied sexual content, creepy variety show hosts and fans mentioned, the mortifying ordeal of being a girl

ex: not beta read, reader is third oldest/youngest - middle of five. reader’s stage name is Eve.

a/n: leaving this warning here. I was raised catholic. if you find negative mentions of organized religion upsetting, this one isn’t for you. NOT BETA READ ONCE AGAIN

psalm 32:1-5 Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him, and in whose spirit is no deceit. When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord’— and you forgave the guilt of my sin.

——————————————————————————————————— debut.

that’s what you’ve been working towards your entire life, what you hungered for, what you wanted.

since your early teen years, you’ve dreamed of debuting. You loved to perform, to sing, to dance— that’s why you were in your church’s choir group. The advent show, the way of the cross, everything— you were there.

did your parents approve of you being an idol? Absolutely not. They tried to convince you to settle down with one of the nice churchboys, the son of one of their friends. He was.. nice, okay looking. But you just didn’t like him. You dreamt of falling in love, being swept off your feet into happily ever after— but for most of your life, you had never even had a real crush! You must just not have found the right guy yet. It only counted when it was with a boy.

you auditioned for SM, and miraculously, you got in. Your days were spent training, dancing, weighing, singing, dancing, showcasing, singing, training, dancing, weighing— a cycle, really.

you met Yu Jimin and Kim Minjeong pretty early on, and you got along great with Jimin. She was catholic, and so were you! She wasn’t as dedicated as you, of course, but it was nice to have something in common.

you all didn’t get the chance to talk with Ning Yizhou a whole lot, even if she did share a dorm with minjeong. You dormed with jimin, but there was an empty bed.

that bed would be filled by one Aeri Uchinaga.

and from that day, your life would also be filled by aeri uchinaga.

The five of you were called to a meeting. You were a little worried, of course, clutching your silver cross chain and pressing the tip of it into your chest. A nervous habit.

“Hello girls,” the man began, the five of you sitting and fidgeting nervously.

“I have good news for you all. You five will be debuting as SM’s newest girl group, Aespa. Congratulations,” he smiled, and it felt like your world had just crumbled and rebuilt itself, three times over.

“We’ll begin thinking of your stage names soon, so feel free to give us some ideas. We’ll be waiting,” the man continued, and like that, the meeting ended.

you all had to celebrate, right?

The five of you met in your dorm, as minjeong didn’t want to bother the other trainee living there. You all begin thinking of stage names, and your eyes drifted to the figurine of Mary that sat on your nightstand. Jimin was thinking of using Katarina, her baptismal name, anyway! Your confirmation name could also work, but you weren’t sure.

“What if I used Mary?” You thought out loud, the other four girls turning their heads to glance at you, and the figure just behind you.

“Mary?” Jimin began. “Like, the Virgin Mary? Our Lady of Naju?” She questioned.

“Yes, I quite like the idea, don’t you?” The other girls knew you spoke a little formally, never really speaking in slang or impolitely in the slightest. It was your parents, after all. You had grown up in a secluded, small town in America, but your parents had taught you Korean, along with your own interest, reading books to perfect grammar. Sadly, that didn’t really teach you many informal words— not that your parents would allow that. You had to be a lady, of course.

“It seems a bit.. outdated, doesn’t it?” Aeri voiced, tentatively, and the other girls agreed with her. They began giving suggestions.

“What about Lily?” Jimin offered.

“Eden— no, maybe Eve?” minjeong hummed.

“Lilith!” Ning exclaimed, much to the amusement of the other girls.

“Ning, that’s similar to Lily, though, isn’t it?” Minjeong gave an amused half-smile.

“I guess so,” she sighed.

“I like Eve,” Aeri voiced, and the other girls all mostly agreed, although more name suggestions were given out, for everyone.

You debuted with the names Karina, Giselle, Eve, Winter, and Ningning.

you said a prayer every morning and every night, with the rosary that was around the figurine. A small Our Father, a Hail Mary, an Act of Contrition— no matter what, you never missed your morning and nightly prayers, no matter how small. You attended mass on Sunday, and while you usually couldn’t go in person, you’d try to listen to it in the morning, before it was time for practice, or at night, before bed— it didn’t matter how much sleep you gave up for it.

You were moved into a group dorms a bit after debut, Black Mamba being a sensational hit. You dormed with aeri, while ning and minjeong dormed together, karina having pulled the leader and oldest card to secure the single-room.

You and aeri weren’t exactly close. There was no animosity, of course, you two just never really got the chance to talk. It was definitely by chance. Not because she made your heart beat just a little faster, your steps a little more uncoordinated, your words fail. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.

you just admired the other girl. It didn’t help that you two had more than one language in common— aeri had gone to an international school, you were raised in america. You just hadn't gotten the chance to approach her, that was all.

well, the first night before the debut stage, you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned, finally sitting up, when—

“Can’t sleep?” aeri’s voice was low with sleep, and she was speaking in english. You felt an uncomfortable skip in your heart.

“Oh, yes, I’m just a bit restless,” you laughed, definitely not nervously. “I am, too. Just a little,” she replied, making a pinching gesture with her fingers, and a smile.

“Why?” You asked, even if it was kind of a dumb question.

aeri was silent, for a beat. At one point, you started to wonder if she was even going to respond.

“I’m just kind of.. scared,” she admitted. “We’re gonna be on display to the whole world, and who knows what’ll happen?” She chuckled, throwing her arms up just a bit. “I’m just.. worried. And.. I mean obviously, I miss home,” she added.

you looked at her, slightly, turning your head just to glance at the dark haired girl. “I know,” you murmured. “I miss home too, even if it wasn’t.. the most exciting place. I just miss it,” you continued. You were just a little afraid you were speaking too quickly in english, but aeri seemed fine. “I mean, I understand. I miss my parents,” she agreed.

you wished you could say the same. It’s not that you didn’t love your parents, but they were a little.. much. They didn’t like the fact you hadn’t found a guy yet. They’d ask you if you.. liked girls. You denied it, you didn’t! You were steadfast in your faith, dedicated, you didn’t like girls. You couldn’t.

“I miss my friends, you know. Sometimes I worry I’ll forget english,” you admitted.

“Well,” aeri gave a grin. “I’ll talk to you in english all you want if you promise to talk to me in japanese,”

you didn’t even speak japanese, but for her? you’d learn.

You smiled. “Of course,”

the two of you tried your best to sleep, after that, but it was mostly you two continuing to talk about anything and everything.

You could tell aeri was going to be one of your best friends. A reminder of home, if anything.

the debut showcase went great, the song was a hit, everything was good.

you and aeri spoke before going to sleep every night— you’d even bought a book about japanese grammar, how to read, write and speak it. You tried your best, but aeri had a nice time correcting you. It was.. nice. You always loved to learn languages, and for some reason, having someone who spoke it already help you was.. a bit comforting, in a way.

you still prayed every night, and aeri would sometimes give you a look, but she never said anything.

everything was going great.

until the hate began

Every little thing you or your group did was criticized, nitpicked, blown out of proportion— and the stress was getting to you.

you had never handled stress very well. You didn’t have a reason to. There was really nothing for you to ever stress about— other than following god, of course, but that wasn’t stressful to you. You had no reason to be stressed about something like that! You were a good person, you hadn’t ever wanted to sin.

some of the comments were about your appearance. It started to chip away at you. The company was always happy when you lost weight, so why not just a little more? It’s not like it would kill you. you were three months into an eating disorder that you called a diet.

the second you got up, you’d pray as your sustenance, head to practice, do your schedules— the other girls would order lunch, you’d ask for a salad. No dressing, of course, you didn’t like the taste. then, as you’d all get to the dorm, again, if there was even an hour of free time, you’d head to the company gym. Sometimes, when you were just in a waiting room, or you couldn’t work out— you’d pace. Anything to keep moving, you just couldn’t sit still. It was taking over your mind.

you couldn’t even eat normally. Any food given to you on a variety show, any drink, anything— mentally, you were counting. You liked to be in the negatives, you liked to skip meals, anything to be better. This was for yourself, so people couldn’t comment on you. You started to come up with even more elaborate ways to prove you were okay, to be better, you practiced more, you stayed late, you slept in the practice room, at times. You begged the vocal coaches to tell you whether or not you were actually good, and as much as they said you were, you just couldn’t believe them.

it was starting to destroy you.

“y/n?” Aeri called, as you prayed right before bed. She stood by the open room door, looking at you with a concerned expression. Why would she be concerned?

“Yes?” You answered, setting down the rosary, putting it back around the statue of Mary that watched over you so carefully. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d made her proud. Maybe if you said the suffering was in the name of god, he’d forgive you. He’d forgive you for the things you had thought and done and wanted to do. He’d forgive you. You could punish yourself, already. You could pray for him to fix you quickly, maybe you could give up eating for lent entirely—

“You.. haven’t been sleeping here, lately. We haven’t gotten.. to talk,” aeri began, sitting down next to you, looking down at you from where she had sat on your bed, right next to where you knelt.

you had completely forgotten your promise. It had just slipped your mind, you never really were awake enough for it, lately, and—

“Are you okay? You’re kind of.. pale, and you have dark circles, and-“

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, quickly. “It’s just.. lent,” you lied, quickly. “All catholics fast and give something up for lent, don’t worry,” you assured, waving a hand dismissively. While it was true, it didn’t call for someone to starve themselves. You were lying. That’s a sin. But it’s just a white lie, so they won’t worry, right? It’s okay, you told yourself.

“We’re worried about you,” aeri frowned, putting a hand on your shoulder, the weight making you go from a kneeling position to sitting with your legs crossed. “I’m worried about you,”

god damn aeri, and her kind personality, and her need to care for others, and she was just so good- she was such a good person, and here you were, about to ruin her, damn her to hell. You were a horrible, filthy, disgusting person. For some reason, your eyes grew hot, but you couldn’t cry. You simply stared at her, with wide eyes, like seeing god’s light, it blinded you. You wished she didn’t care about you. You wouldn’t blame her. Vaguely, you remembered the first commandment.

the first commandment. Exodus 20:1 I am the Lord your God. You shall not have other gods beside me. You shall not make for yourself an idol or a likeness of anything in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the waters beneath the earth; you shall not bow down before them or serve them. For I, the Lord, your God, am a jealous God

“Aeri, I-” your voice cracked, and you were so determined not to cry, but you could feel your resolve breaking, because you were weak, you were weak to your vices and weak to aeri, you were so pathetic. The older girl let out a small sigh, sinking down onto the floor next to you, taking you into her arms. She was silent, for a bit, while you choked out words that were mostly incomprehensible. She ran a hand through your hair, and was a bit unsettled to feel how cold you were to the touch, but she pointedly ignored it.

“Y/n, you can’t let the words of those people get to you.. they won’t do you any good, and.. I know that’s hypocritical of me, I’m learning to ignore it too, but.. you can’t let it kill you like this,” she continued, voice soft. It made you sick how much you liked her comforting you. What would she do if she knew that you were so disgusting. You wanted aeri, you realized as you held her shirt, with some sense of finality hitting you. You didn’t want her to leave. You wanted her to hold you, and she wasn’t even aware of what you felt towards her. You were taking advantage of her. You were so disgusting.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out, voice a little choked as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry,” “It’s okay,” she said, a little confused on why you were apologizing, look of worry on her face. Not that you could see it. You had your head in the crook of her neck.

that’s why you were apologizing, really.

you were sorry that you loved her. You were sorry she wanted to help you. You she couldn’t fix you, no one could. you were defective, and wrong, and oh so selfish. Aeri was such a good person.

the presence of the statue on your nightstand caught your eye from the corner. You turned away. She shouldn’t have to see this.

you could feel the tears stinging at your eyes, the shame, the guilt, the hate— it was all too much. You needed to push aeri away, to get as far away from her as possible, to save what little integrity and goodness you had left—

but you didn’t.

you clutched her shirt tighter, breathed her in desperately, and let out a choked sound. You wanted to cry, but you screwed your eyes shut and bit your lip. The blood was heavy and sharp in your mouth.

You woke up the next day beyond exhausted, but in your bed and off the floor. You surmised that aeri had put you there. You held your head, and got down on your knees in front of your bed. You prayed.

“Mary, mother of God, please guide me away from sin, as you have for so many others. Help me to continue being steadfast in my faith, and to follow all commandments well. Allow me to be worthy of your son, and continue to protect me from sin. These thoughts have been given to me by the devil, as a challenge of my faith. Guide me out of temptation, and forgive my actions, in the Lord’s name, I ask for this mercy,”

you stood up. Your knees ached. Aeri was up, sitting cross legged on her bed, watching you with a concerned expression. “Why are you praying to Mary?” aeri asked, voice light but expression still a bit worried, if not a tad curious.

“Catholics pray to saints as well. Especially depending on their patronage— I mean, if I lose something, I usually pray to Saint Anthony,” you chuckled, explaining the concept.

“What’s Mary the patron Saint of?” aeri asked, softly, curiously.

“Many different things, depending on which version of her you choose to pray to. Our Lady of Lourdes is Mary, but when she appeared in Lourdes. She’s the patron saint of the sick. There’s Our Lady of Loreto, the patron Saint of pilots,”

“Which one do you have, then?”

“Our Lady of Sorrows,” you murmured, glancing towards the figure on your nightstand. The rosary was draped around her carefully. Her downcast, frowning face, her hands clasped together, the feeling of her porcelain eyes boring into your back nearly burned.

“What’s she the patron Saint of?”

“Sinners,”

the second commandment. Exodus 20:1-7 You shall not invoke the name of the Lord, your God, in vain. For the Lord will not leave unpunished anyone who invokes his name in vain.

practice that day went on for a long while. You were all practicing for next level. At one point, you took a small break, drinking water— your heart had been beating quite fast, that day, and your throat had been dry the entire practice.

during the beat change, it was nearly impossible for you to keep your eyes off aeri- or should you start calling her giselle, now? maybe it would be best to separate the two.

you shouldn’t be looking at aeri like that— but giselle was an idol. giselle was not your friend— she was someone untouchable, unattainable. It was okay to like her, to find her pretty, to want- no, no. You didn’t. You just envied her appearance, was all.

Your eyes were glued to her, the way she moved, her expression, everything, it was-

“Oh my God,” you mumbled, eyes locked onto her movements, before you heard the instructor call for you to get up and were immediately snapped out of your haze. You didn’t even remember the event before you went to sleep.

the third commandment. Exodus 20:1-11 Remember the sabbath day—keep it holy. Six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God. You shall not do any work. For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the Lord has blessed the sabbath day and made it holy.

It was Sunday. It was always a toss-up whether or not you’d have a schedule that day, and today you did not. You watched the six a.m. mass, while aeri slept a few feet away. You knelt when they knelt, stood when they stood, prayed when they prayed.

but you did not sing, no. That would wake aeri.

the girls usually used their rest days to sleep. You always woke up early. You were restless. You hated to sleep. In your dreams you’d see images of a life you could never live, of things you shouldn’t— couldn’t— do. You’d see aeri. No, not aeri— giselle. Aeri didn’t look your way on the stage, hold your gaze for a moment too long, send a wink. The company didn’t order aeri to hold you closer, smile at you more, intertwine your hands.

aeri would never look at you that way.

but giselle would.

you went to the practice room after you prayed. You rehearsed until you felt the world spin, your skin too hot- until you forgot about aeri, and giselle, and the figurine on your nightstand, and the pastor’s homilies, and the way your parents would never love you the same because of what you had done. You danced until your vision became blurry, so you couldn’t see your hands, so whatever or whoever you touched wasn’t your fault, so you couldn’t see their face. More likely, so you couldn’t see yourself, and the body you lived in. You danced until your ears rang, so you wouldn’t have to listen to the sounds, to how your members pleaded with you to stop doing this to yourself. Till you couldn’t hear the people telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear yourself telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear your parents words resounding in your head, the endless comments of it being unnatural, of being sent straight to the hellfire, to how it was the most hideous thing in the world.

till you didn’t hear the way fans leered after you, and your members— the stares they’d give you, as you walked, the way they’d clamber for you, so many hands reaching, reaching for you, to touch, to take. it ate you up inside, how badly you wanted to be pure. and how you knew, through it all, you never could be. they could imagine you any way, salivate, draw, take, write it in comments. They even had the confidence to say it out loud, passing comments on variety shows.

you danced till you could forget their words, their looks, what you knew so well that they thought, you danced till you thought your body would give out—

or, conversely, till the leader and main vocalist of red velvet opened the practice room door and rushed over to the the shaking body of their junior, nearly unable to breath, head in her hands and knees to her chest in the farthest corner of the room, brightly illuminated.

you wanted to assure them you were fine, but the cross chain you wore was too tight on your neck, the silver feeling like hot iron burning your throat. You swore if you looked down it would be burning into your skin, leaving a brand.

each breath felt like swallowing glass, and your eyes were unfocused, and your ears were ringing, and your body was screaming in protest of each movement, and your eyesight was blurring—

but you got up, bowed, apologized, assured them you were okay, thanked them, and left.

you had been lying a lot, lately. To your members, about how you were— to your managers, your staff, to your seniors, now. Lying was a sin. but you could excuse it, couldn’t you?

you hoped they wouldn’t mention it to your members.

the fourth commandment. Exodus 20:1-12 Honor your father and your mother, that you may have a long life in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

you rarely talked to your parents. You should call them, more. Or, more accurately, you should pick up their calls, more. Except, it was maddening. You hated talking to them. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you didn’t, that they were your parents, and what they said was gospel, you couldn’t stand it. Their prying questions, asking how being an idol was, if you kept up with your faith, asking why the media would report on how “close” you were with your members— with Aeri. Asking why you had gotten so thin, and that you needed to gain weight. They would pick and pry at every little thing. You couldn’t stand it, you couldn’t-

the phone rang. Again. You picked up.

“Finally, you answer the phone, y/n,” the voice of your mother crackled, thousands of miles away.

“I’m sorry,” you respond, robotically, like a reflex. “I was in practice. We’re busy, since we’re preparing for a comeback,”

“You always have some excuse for us, don’t you? You can’t just talk to your parents? What a daughter, you are. We’re your parents, y/n, you should actually listen to us, more. I told you being an idol wouldn’t be good for you, and look at you now! Barely any respect for your parents, how horrible is that? I can’t believe you,” she ranted, going on and on about this and that and every failure and everything you should’ve done better.

“This is why I didn’t want you going away, I knew what it’d do to you.. we tried to fix you, but you are a sick, sick little girl,” she spat, accusingly. “You know what you did, you know what you did to this family— that I have to live with a daughter who’s-”

click.

You hung up.

her voice was so grating.

Your mother loved to spout silly little ideas, didn’t she? She was wrong. You didn’t do anything. You weren’t gay. You didn’t like girls, or a girl. They had just been confused. The reason you became an idol was because you loved to perform, not because it was your only way out— after they saw you with her. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kiss her. You didn’t, you’d never-

the truth was that you had left your hometown because of an incident. Yes, you loved to perform, and being an idol was always on your mind. But you never thought you’d do it, how could you leave?

You soon found out what it was like to live outcasted, alone, treated like something wrong and filthy and horrible. Your parents didn’t help. So, you did what anyone would do— you ran away, off to Korea, off to the harsh idol system

because anything

anything

would be better than living with the guilt and shame, with the knowing eyes and hateful stares. anything would be better than being stuck in that suffocating smalll town, where everyone knew everyone, and all your secrets were magnified.

she had moved away, anyway. Her parents protected her. you protected yourself. You had to run.

so you did.

you had to kill that part of yourself, bury her more than six feet deep, deep enough so that the world would never find her.

You died the day your parents opened your bedroom door and found you with the daughter of a deacon, who helped at the church, who your parents had invited over for dinner, who they had been invited by for dinner. When they found you with the daughter of their friends.

they didn’t know whether to say if she corrupted you or you corrupted her.

they chose the latter, of course, they got to it first. They drove them out of town, blaming that girl for your transgressions. For your sin.

she kissed you, after all.

you just sat there and took it.

it wasn’t your fault, they said to the town. It was hers. You’re just too trusting and naïve.

if only they knew, the rest of the people. Your parents certainly did.

they forbid you from having any friends that were girls over, again.

and you understood. You knew. And you took it.

You killed that part of yourself, that day. Buried her, and tried to forget. But there’s dirt and blood on your hands and you’re still hollow. There’s nothing left of you, from before. Bright smiles and eyes, a cheery demeanor, giggling in secret with her- there’s none of that left.

You’re not a little kid anymore, a teenager with a crush, no.

You grew up. You had to.

and that little girl is dead.

dead and buried, underground.

you wished Aeri knew you when you were younger.

she would’ve loved the softer you.

the fifth commandment. Exodus 20:1-13 You shall not kill.

You know, there’s a reason priests and nuns can’t get married.

it’s because, allegedly, they’re married to god.

so, in that case, is it wrong for you, married to god since birth, by your parents— that anything, anyone other than a boy, was wrong?

you tried to understand, but you couldn’t. What was the consensus?

you knew, deep down. What you were was wrong.

and yet, you couldn’t stop. You tried. But you were weak, at heart. A sinner, with no control.

that was your downfall, you thought.

or maybe salvation.

You and Aeri were the last two in the practice room— you were near obsessive with your need to perfect choreography, and Aeri asked you for help, so— you were here. You had already released Next Level, but the practicing never stopped, obviously. You had to perfect it, make it yours, make it the best— so that’s where you were, right now.

it was late, honestly. Already dark out, and your other three members had long since left. You regretted saying yes to Aeri— you knew the choreography for next level, obviously, you knew the way Giselle moved made you feel something wrong, something dark and wanting. You tried to push it down, though— you ran through the moves together, you fixed some posturing and some other small timing issues, really, it was nothing major. You watched her run through those parts, and clenched your jaw.

you felt hot, and your hands itched to reach out and touch her. You couldn’t be making this up, could you? She was looking at you through the mirror, your flushed face barely visible from the darker corner you were sitting at. You swore you could see a smirk on Giselle’s face, for a split second, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

you hated it, hated how Giselle made you feel out of control, made you feel wanting, made that dark thing in you, shoved deep down, squirm and claw. You felt sick. You wanted her.

“I’ll be back,” you said, abruptly standing up and turning the door of the practice room, practically scrambling out. “Bathroom,” was what you supplied as reasoning, before you got out the door, rushing through the empty halls. They were weirdly eerie, at night.

you walked into the bathroom, the sound of your shoes clicking on the ground far too loud, the yellowed glow of the SM building’s bathrooms surrounding you. You gripped the sink, turning on the water and splashing some on your face. You felt dirty, and wrong. Your skin crawled in the suffocating space, the sound of running water driving you insane, the sound of your breathing almost too much. It seems you were in there for longer than you thought, though, as you stated into the mirror, lost in thought, knuckles turning white with the bruising grip you kept on the sink counter.

“Y/n?” Aeri called, opening the door.

You snapped your head to her— she was wearing just some white tanktop and sweatpants, with a black sports bra, but god.

Giselle walked over to you, with a concerned expression. “Are you okay? You’re breathing pretty hard,” she asked, walking closer, putting a hand on your hip, other hand touching your arm.

your composure snapped. You moved your hands to her face, holding it in them, looking at her with wide eyes. “Giselle, I-”

“Why are you calling me Giselle? That’s my stage name, y/n, just call me Aeri?” she said, a little confused and a little irritated. Why the hell were you calling her by her stage name?

you held her face a little tighter, taking in a sharp breath, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“Aeri,” you murmured, voice low. You leaned in, and her eyes widened, slightly. She didn’t push you away, in fact, she met you in the middle, holding you tighter, moving her other hand to your waist, squeezing your hip, where she could feel the outline of your hipbone. You hated how much you needed her, the kiss messy and desperate, filled with an underlying sense of want and need.

“G- Aeri,” you mumbled, out of breath, panting against her mouth. You couldn’t reconcile the two, easily. Giselle was the one who was making you do this, right? Not Aeri, you didn’t like Aeri, right?

no, that wasn’t true. You liked Aeri. A lot more than you’d admit. You wanted her. You needed her. You couldn’t stop, now.

“Aeri, please-” you murmured, between kisses. They were more desperate, now, wanting, as she pushed you against the cold bathroom wall, the light flickering once. Twice. Three times.

“Yeah? What do you want?” She asked, lowly, eyes dark and pupils blown wide as she looked down at you.

“Lock the door,” you muttered, grabbing her wrist, tightly, and moving her hand upwards.

the sixth commandment. Exodus 20:1-14 You shall not commit adultery.

you and aeri never spoke about it.

but it became a thing, now.

you needed her like a drug, constantly wanting and waiting for the next time you could have her.

you and giselle shared a room, after all. you were pretty sure everyone knew. and by everyone you meant your members, of course. the public could never know, they’d ruin both your career and hers, and you couldn’t do that to her. you weren’t evil, just weak. just horrible, but not evil. you could never hurt her. you loved her, didn’t you? the way a friend doesn’t hurt a friend.

deep down, you knew. It was so much worse than that.

they couldn’t know the way you put concealer on, before practice. the way you were strangely hot and cold, terrified of her touch, but how the both of you would disappear into your room, or somewhere, together, always appearing back, more than a few minutes later, though the tension was always still there.

the way you had become a shell.

you were ashamed, really.

you felt so disgusting, all the time. here you were, dirty, filthy, robbing someone else, sullying them, damning her, all for your own selfish needs, desires, wants.

you had always wanted, too much.

giselle was your temptation and aeri was the sin, the collateral to the damage.

it’s not like she protested, either, the way giselle’s hands lingered, a beat too longer to be friendly. the way her fists would clench on those stupid variety shows, when the hosts mentioned your appearance, saying you were so pretty.

she hated how they’d look at you.

but you couldn’t see that, really.

you hated yourself, and you had stolen aeri’s sanctity.

it was giselle’s fault, though, you would think, sometimes.

but deep down, you knew the truth.

it was your doing. Your fault. You ruined everything you touched, everything you wanted would die and burn because you were a sinner. All because you couldn’t control yourself.

eve ate the apple, too, you’d think. but maybe, the snake wasn’t just the creature, no, but the whispers of lilith, beckoning her away, promising her everything she’d wanted. forbidden knowledge, godhood, becoming better— and maybe, even herself.

was biting the apple an act of naivety, of greed?

or the blind, blissful ignorance of trust? of love?

someone you loved wouldn’t damn you, would they?

but oh, you knew better. You knew.

you had stolen both of your chances of sanctity and holiness.

out of blind, ignorant, nearly all encompassing love.

it was love.

the seventh commandment. Exodus 20:1-15 You shall not steal.

The weeks went by, in this strange commitment.

you had just arrived back from yet another variety show, and Giselle was obviously annoyed at something. It was late, and everyone wanted to sleep. You made your way back to your room, the door open a crack—

giselle was changing into some sleep clothes. You didn’t really care which. the glimpse of her back, of skin, made you nearly feel ill. You shut the door, quickly, feeling like you couldn’t breathe. It made you feel sick.

you entered about a minute later, to see her scrolling on her phone, with a bored expression. You, instead, went and knelt in front of the small Mary statue you kept.

“Mary, mother of God, please hear my prayer. I’m asking you to give me the strength to-”

your breath hitched as you felt giselle put her hands on your shoulders, leaning into your back, feeling her smirk press against your neck.

“y/n,” she called, a mischievous lilt to her voice like this was a fucking game.

“y-yes?” was the reply.

Her hands moved, pressing along your collarbone.

“You know, I hate variety shows, sometimes,” she hummed, voice so unbelievably distracting. “I don’t like the way they talk about you,” she continued.

“I- I agree, I do, it’s quite-”

her blunt nails dug into your shoulder, slightly, as she pulled you back, just a bit, your back pressed to her front. Her head craned forward, to murmur into your ear. “It pisses me off,” she added.

of course, you tended to her anger. You had to, as penance.

later, when you were laying beside her, panting with tears in your eyes, saying anything that came to mind—

“I love you,” you choked out, reverently, like a prayer.

god never responded to those, usually. aeri didn’t love you back.

there’s no way god loved you. and aeri didn’t, either.

the eighth commandment Exodus 20:1-16 You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

“Tell me not to,” you begged, clutching onto giselle like a lifeline, holding her arms. “Tell me no, tell me not to love you. I can’t, I shouldn’t, I don’t want-”

girls never hungered. They never want, like a boy.

“And what if it’s what I want!” She spat back, acidly, pushing you off. “I love you, and I don’t know why you can’t accept that! I love you, not like a friend, or coworker, or whatever else you think! I’m in love with you, why can’t you get that!?” she asked, sharply, voice far too loud.

you didn’t know how to explain that you loved her, too, that you wished you could love her. You always wanted, so badly, to like a boy, and to love him, so you could hold his hand in public, and kiss him, and introduce him to your parents and they wouldn’t say a word, to be able to love him without just that fact being controversial, to love someone without it absolutely ruining your career. Idols couldn’t date, yes, but they’d survive if they were rumored to be with a man.

god forbid it was a girl.

you couldn’t ruin her career, or yours. You couldn’t damn her more, you couldn’t ruin everything, like you always did-

“I can’t,” you cried, desperately. “I’ll ruin everything, I’ll ruin you, I’d-”

“I don’t care!” she retorted. “I don’t care! I want you, and I love you. Is it that you can’t, or you won’t? You’re just scared,” she accused, rightly so.

“I am,” you admitted, pathetically. “I’m scared.”

She scoffed, clenching her fists. She turned, sharply, turning the door handle, wiping her eyes and slamming the room’s door.

You were alone.

god abandoned you, long ago.

you don’t know why it hurt more the second time.

the ninth commandment Exodus 20:1-17 You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

it was a few days later, at night after an off day. You had been hiding in your room most of the day. Cowardly, yes, but the other members weren’t exactly thrilled with you. You couldn’t blame them. You were currently pretending to be asleep.

you heard aeri enter the room. She laid down, to sleep. The lights were off. It was dead silent. You turned.

“aeri,” you called. No response.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” you continued, after surmising she was asleep. “I love you. I really do. I’m just so, so scared. I don’t know how to let myself love you. I feel wrong. I’m sorry. I want to. I don’t know how to love you how you deserve, I don’t even know how to love myself. Im weak and pathetic, really. If you knew the real me, I think you’d hate me,” you chuckled, without humor. “As long as you’re happy, though. I’ll be okay,” you murmured, finally.

“Im not happy, actually,” she informed, suddenly, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. “I love you, y/n. I don’t care if it’ll make everything more difficult, or if you think I’ll hate you. I won’t, by the way,”

you didn’t know how to respond. aeri did it, for you.

she got up, walked over to your bed, and made you sit up.

“so can you stop being scared? I love you, and-“

you cut her off.

you clutched her face, and kissed her, desperately. You felt tears well in your eyes, and this time, they fell. You pulled back.

“aeri, I love you, I love you so much. I love you, please forgive me. I’ll try, I swear. Please, just-”

she kissed you, again. nothing was completely fixed, yet, but you both loved each other. You were still scared, of course, but aeri had seen you at your worst, already, and was still here. so maybe, it was okay.

the tenth commandment. Genesis 1:1-Revelation 22:21 Love thy neighbor as I have loved you.

The last few weeks had been.. different.

You had started eating again, or, more frequently, was a better way to put it.

it was mostly because aeri had taken up cooking, and you could never say no to her, and it was kind of nice, really, to see her happy when you told her you liked the food.

you started to ignore the comments online, not even bothering to read them most of the time. You called your parents less, if that was even possible, and started talking with aeri and your members more.

it was nice, to have friends. To have people that you knew cared about you. It was nice to know that people didn’t view you as disgusting, or filthy, or wrong.

you had a hard time viewing yourself, differently, but if someone like aeri, someone so good, could stand you, then maybe, you weren’t as bad as your parents said you were. They were wrong about a lot, you’d come to learn.

on one of your breaks, you had found another statue.

it was of Saint Maria.

you put it next to the statue of Our Lady. You thought it fit, in a way.

you didn’t attend sunday mass, or hear it. You didn’t pray much, anymore, either. but you kept the statues as a reminder, of sorts.

aespa had been doing very well, as well, and you didn’t practice late into the night, as much, anymore.

all of you were currently deciding what takeout to order, and trying to pick a move. no one could really come to a final decision, and you watched the bickering amusedly. You got up, heading to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Aeri appeared behind you, a sly smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around your waist. “Hey, y/n,” she hummed.

“Yeah?” you replied, turning your head. she had a smirk on her face.

“I got you somethinggg,” she grinned, tilting her head, a mischievous expression on her face, her hands clasped behind her back.

“what is it?”

she handed you a gold necklace, with rose quartz in the shape of a heart at the end, a bashful expression beginning to take place at your silence. “I didn’t know if you would like it, but it reminded me of you, so-”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, a genuine smile on your face. “Can you put it on for me?”

aeri removed the silver cross necklace you had worn for years, and years, placing it on the counter. She clasped the new necklace, the gold sitting pleasantly on your skin.

you turned to her, holding her face before kissing her, smiling into it. You left the chain on the counter, a smile plastered near permanently your face. “It’s beautiful, aeri, thank you,”

“Of course,” she replied, with a very self-satisfied grin on her face.

“I love you,” you added, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I love you too, you sap,” she rolled her eyes, good naturedly, but still held you, too. “Come on, let’s go back— i’m not letting them watch a disney movie for the millionth time,”

“So what, you can watch Deadpool?” You teased, with a grin.

“Maybe,” she replied.

it was definitely certain, now, with the silver chain thrown in the garbage, easily.

you loved aeri uchinaga

and you hoped, prayed, even, that the rest of your life would be filled by aeri uchinaga.

A/N: hi guys… so I love aeri uchinaga btw. uhmm so basically the catholic version of the Ten Commandments the ninth commandment is separated into nine “don’t covet your neighbors wife” and ten “don’t covet your neighbors goods” but technically all Ten Commandments can be followed by following the one big rule which is “love thy neighbor as I have loved you” and basically symbolism forever eve breaks all nine commandments but follows the one big one which is like love everyone which means she never actually sinned she just thought she did because she is doomed yuri ☝️🤓

I LOVE TOXIC YURI AND DOOMED YURI FOREVERR pleek send asks+reqs btw I need ideas

#carps works #carpmasterlist #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #giselle x reader #aeri uchinaga x reader #aeri x reader #aespa giselle #aespa imagines #girl group imagines #giselle x fem reader #aeri uchinaga x fem reader #reader is the comphet religious guilt posterchild #aeri is lowk a little toxic and plays into it #reader is eve aeri is apple and giselle is the snake #in readers insane mind..#just 7k of projection #i love yuri

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gravehags · 2 months

Text

desinare

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: awwww look it's a pre-relationship fic just like old times, dinner party, reader meeting the papas, reader and copia being awkward little weirdos with baby crushes, papa nihil slander, references to other curator reader fics

Words: 3,784

Summary: Your very kind cardinal friend has invited you for a meal with three Satanic popes. Surely there's a proverb about this.

a/n: i had so so so much fun writing this lmao i didn't realize how much i missed writing them pre-relationship. my beloved nerds.

~~~

“Eh, signorina?”

“Fuck!” you yelp, dropping the stack of folders you were holding in shock. “Shit…sorry Cardinal. How do you move so quietly with all that fabric on?”

“M-many years of practice, heh,” he kicks himself for how stupid he sounds, wringing his hands while you smile kindly up at him as you stoop to pick up your papers.

“Teach me how some time? I’m always falling over myself. I’d love to have even an ounce of your grace.”

He can feel his ears burn as a dopey grin spreads across his face. She complimented you. Now compliment her back. Go on, say something charming, idiota.

“Dancing!” he half-shouts, making you jump. You fucking fool. “I…I mean I learned how…how to be graceful from dancing. Ballet. In my youth.”

You’re making an impressed face now which is worlds better from the look of terror you previously wore when he barked at you like a senile chihuahua.

“The Cardinal is a dancer?” you murmur, eyes glittering, “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Oh, it’s been years,” he blushes, “this old body doesn’t move the way it used to.”

He swears he sees your eyes flick up and down his form and a tiny smirk lift your lips.

“I don’t buy that for a second, Cardinal.”

Are you flirting with him? You turn to busy herself with organizing your folders but Copia can see the pink tinge at the tips of your ears.

“Do you like bolognese?” he says, once again loud and blunt.

“I…what?”

“My…my fratelli and I - the Papas that is - would very much like to meet you. A-and share a meal with you. If you are interested?”

Your mouth forms a little “o”.

“There’s more than one Papa?” you ask, cocking your head.

“Sì, sì, there is also eh, Papa Emeritus I and Papa Emeritus II, known as Primo and Secondo, respectively. Terzo you already know,” he grumbles, and your lips twitch.

“Three Satanic popes and a Cardinal. Wow…life sure comes at you fast, huh? Never expected this from a job offer.”

“So…is that a yes?”

“No,” you say and Copia’s face falls, “I mean - shit - sorry! A no about the bolognese. I don’t eat red meat. But a definite yes for the dinner, I’d love to meet some more people here! You’re very kind to have invited me.”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, but a smile still curls his lips, “We don’t get pretty new faces around here very often. It would be our pleasure.”

It doesn’t dawn on him what he said until he sees your lips silently form the damning word and your cheeks light up. Shit, why couldn’t he be normal around you?

“Anyway,” he says, his voice going up a humiliating octave, “would you be available this week? Friday evening, perhaps?”

“It’s a date. I mean–” you look as panicked as he feels at your wording, “--a dinner date. W-with your…with the Papas. And yourself. Sorry, where should I meet you? I’m uh, still familiarizing myself with the abbey. This place is huge.”

“Eh, how about I meet you at your office and I’ll lead the way from there, sì?”

“Sì. I mean, yes. Is there a…should I dress a certain way?”

An image is conjured in his mind of you in a pretty cocktail dress, heels lifting your shapely calves and your decolletage on display—

He shakes his head to rid himself of the vision.

“Uh…dress in whatever is most comfortable. Undoubtedly Secondo will put you to work in the kitchen so–”

“Oh good,” you say, “I mean my culinary talents are uh…definitely lacking but I’d be happy to help and keep busy. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, and all that. Well…something like that anyway, I’m not sure if there’s a Satanic version. Anyway I am definitely blabbering on so feel free to ignore…literally everything that just came out of my mouth.”

You’re embarrassed. As if he couldn’t listen to you talk and talk and talk for eternity. He’s about to tell you something to that effect before his brain yanks him away. Bit much for only knowing her a month, fool. Instead he gives you a friendly nod, and bows slightly.

“I’ll eh, see you Friday then yes? At 6:00?”

“Sounds perfect. And…thank you. I don’t remember if I said it or not but thank you for making this place feel like home.”

He feels as if his heart is about to burst from his ribcage.

“Signorina,” he murmurs, “it is my honor. Ciao.”

“Ciao, Cardinal,” you say softly as he turns and exits your office. He doesn’t see the way you collapse into your desk chair with a dreamy sigh.

—

You’re going to be late.

As soon as your work day ended you hustled up to your apartment and began getting ready but it’s now 5:41 and you still have no idea what the fuck you’re going to wear. Half your wardrobe lies scattered on your bedroom floor (you know it’s going to make you insane when you return later that night but fuck you can’t remember what clothes you even own) as you stand in the center of the room in your underwear.

“Okay. Okay you’re going to meet three Satanic popes,” the sentence has a delirious laugh bubbling out of your throat. “Three Satanic popes and one…sweet…handsome…Cardinal. What is the correct choice.”

You eye a snug, knee length burgundy velvet cocktail dress to your left. You’ve been saving this one for a while - for a real special occasion. You would undoubtedly impress but…nah. Too much. To your right is a pair of mom jeans - you pick them up and give them a tentative sniff - acceptably clean. You toss the jeans onto your bed behind you. Okay now for a top. How about…ah! You spy a soft, dark green sweater in a pile and snatch it up. Cozy, comfortable, and practical. Perfect. As for shoes…your well-loved black Chelsea boots should do the trick. You look down at your watch.

5:48

Shit! Almost tripping more than once you jump into your jeans and pull the sweater over your head, tucking it halfway into your waistband. You don’t have the time or the patience to put any makeup on beyond a few swipes of mascara and a dark red lipstick and when you make it out the door with your phone and keys, it’s five to six. You briskly power walk the entire trip to your office and by the time you’re standing outside the door, you’re clutching your side and heaving for breath. You pray to whoever is listening that the Cardinal is a little late so you have a chance to compose yourself but before you can even form the thought–

“Signorina?”

You spin on the spot, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Cardinal!” you rasp. “Uh…hi.”

“You look lovely,” he says with an anxious little smile that gives you butterflies, “you’re glowing, signorina.”

“Thanks, it’s the sweat.”

You ought to be taken out back and shot like Old Yeller.

To your immense relief, he doesn’t look disgusted but instead seems to relax as if your odd faux-pas cuts the tension. Chortling, he gestures for you to follow him with a gloved hand.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask, as the two of you proceed down the hall.

“You’ll have to ask Secondo that, I have no idea what the maestro has planned for us this evening.”

“Sounds ominous,” you smile.

“Eh, sì. He is.”

Oh God.

“Your week has gone well?” Copia asks, adeptly changing the subject.

“Yes, just you know. Trying to make sense of everything von Schreck left me with. Can’t help but feel his presence looming over me whenever I change something he did. Did you know him well?”

“Not well, no. He was a quiet man, kept to himself. His eh, mind started to go, in the end. Became paranoid.”

“Ah. Explains his cataloging system then. If you can call it that.”

You realize you’re now in a wing of the abbey you’ve never seen before - a long hallway with a dark red rug running the length of it and arched doors. Copia stops at one that is open and gestures inside with a nervous smile.

It’s a kitchen. A very large, very well equipped kitchen with a massive island and high ceilings. There are three men standing inside it - you recognize one of them and the other two are staring in your direction. The tallest (and from what you can tell, the oldest) has a soft smile on his face. The other is also tall but broad where the older figure was slim, the overhead light glinting off his bald head. Terzo hops down off the counter, swirling a glass of wine and grinning. You’re suddenly aware of four pairs of the same mismatched eyes boring into you.

“Uh. Hi.”

The three Papas are on you like flies on honey in a snap, pulling you into the warmth of the kitchen while Copia removes his black biretta and wrings his gloved hands. With a shaky voice he introduces you to the two you are unfamiliar with and to Terzo he simply gives a hard stare.

“It’s an honor to meet all of you,” you murmur, smiling around the room, “Wow, three Satanic popes. I haven’t even met one uh…regular pope. Not to say you aren’t ‘regular’ or ‘normal’, of course. The Satanic versions are so much more interesting.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Do you drink?” the bald, mustachioed one - Secondo - asks.

“Please,” you sigh in relief. He gestures you over to the counter.

“What do you know about Italian wines, piccolina?”

Piccolina? You remind yourself to look that up whenever you manage to take a bathroom break.

“Uh, not much. That is to say…nothing.”

He smirks. You know immediately this man is a heartbreaker.

“I will teach you. This riserva is from the Ministry’s vineyards in Piedmont. Made from Nebbiolo grapes.” He pours you a generous glass which you swirl delicately in your hand before leaning in to sniff.

“Oh! I’m definitely getting…red fruits, perhaps cherries? Something mineral, like the way a damp cave smells. Hold on–”

You take a sip as Secondo watches you carefully.

“Wow that’s gorgeous,” you gush, “I didn’t smell the rose element but I definitely taste it. You said the Ministry made this?”

“Sì,” he nods, as he pours more into your glass, “I’m pleased you like it, you have excellent taste.”

“Oh, I really don’t,” you smile, “you’d cringe if I told you some of the swill I find acceptable. Particularly what I drank in college.”

He laughs loudly.

“What kind of self-respecting American college student drinks wine?”

“One from California, that’s what,” you smirk.

“Secondo stop hogging our guest,” Terzo calls from the other side of the room. “I want to see her pretty face.”

Secondo ushers you over to the small breakfast table where Copia sits with the other two Papas before leaving to fetch several wine glasses.

“Don’t you look bellissima tonight,” Terzo grins, and you blush as he gives you a very obvious once-over. That smile disappears though when he jerks violently, slamming his knee up under the table.

“Stronzino, that hurt,” he hisses at Copia, who has carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression.

Huh. Wonder what that was all about.

You’re distracted by Primo softly saying your name and you turn to the older man with a smile.

“Are you enjoying life at the abbey so far?”

Ah. Well about that. You want to lie - to tell him everything has been smooth sailing but something about the way he looks at you instantly makes you want to be more candid.

“It’s um. It’s been…a lot,” you say, looking down into your wine glass, “The Cardinal is really the only one who speaks to me outside of Sister Imperator. I-I haven’t got out of my apartment much except to go to work. I’m a little self-conscious about exploring, to be honest.”

Primo gives you a gentle smile.

“Do you know where the greenhouses are, fiore mio?”

Fiore mio. Another one for the list.

“I think I know where the gardens are but I’m not sure if they’re nearby–”

“They are.” he says, “Sister Imperator…doesn’t have much use for an old relic like me. I spend my time tending to all that grows here. With some assistance from my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” you ask, cocking your head.

He smiles.

“Ah, you haven’t met any yet, have you? Well I won’t spoil the surprise. I’m sure the Cardinal would love to tell you about them some time. Anyway, all this to say…please come visit me when you have the opportunity, sì? Ah, that reminds me,” he gets up and walks through an adjacent doorway to what you assume is the dining room. When he returns, he’s bearing a bouquet of vibrant pink dahlias in a glass vase.

“Oh!” you say, setting down your wine glass as Primo places the flowers on the table in front of you.

“For you, cara. To welcome you.”

You’re squeezing the meat of your thigh as hard as you can under the table to keep from crying but the tears well up in your eyes all the same.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he reaches out to take your hand into his long, wizened one.

“Cazzo, are you making her cry, you old fuck?” Terzo grouses.

“Terzo!” Copia says with a sharpness you’ve never heard from him before. You’re not sure if it’s the wine but you’re definitely picking up on some tense vibes between the two of them.

“Uh, need help with dinner, Secondo?” you ask, trying to cut the awkwardness.

“Most of it is already finished but you are welcome to assist with the antipasti. Forgive the lack of aperitivo but someone forgot to pick up olives today.”

Secondo glares across the room at Copia, who turns beet red.

“That’s okay, I don’t like olives anyway,” you say cheerily. Primo groans.

“Ugh! Philistine!” Secondo snaps, making a sharp gesture, “Get over here and atone for your sins before I kick you out of my kitchen, piccolina.”

Now your face is red.

“Yes, Papa,” you murmur obediently as you rise from the table, missing the way the four men look at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Va bene,” Secondo says gruffly as you approach the island, leaning over to pour more wine in your glass, “Do you know how to toast bread?”

You give him a look.

“I think I can handle toast,” you scoff, setting down your glass. “Are we making bruschetta?”

He favors you with a nod and a half-smile. A point in your favor.

“Here is the olive oil,” he says, gesturing to his left, “here is the balsamic. I have already diced the tomatoes and here,” he turns and opens the large refrigerator, coming back with a healthy amount of burrata, “is the cheese. Think you got it?”

“I…think so? Wait, do you have a grill for me to use or…”

He hands you a square metal pan with holes perforated in it.

“You’ve used a brustolina before?”

No, you have not used a brustolina before.

“How hard can it be? Don’t worry about me, please go sit down.”

He gives you one last sideway glance before snagging his wine glass off the table and joining his brothers.

Ten minutes later, Terzo is standing on the breakfast table waving a rag in front of the aggressively beeping smoke detector as Copia looks as mortified as you feel.

“It’s alright, fiore mio,” Primo soothes as you sniffle, staring at the charred remains of what used to be several slices of sourdough bread.

“It’s toast. I cannot believe I actually fucked up toast.”

Copia scurries to your side and Primo steps away to make room. When your head thunks heavy against his shoulder he wraps an arm around you, making soothing noises.

You don’t see Terzo thrusting violently into the air with a wide grin on his face, still standing on the table but you do see Secondo yank him down when he lets out an undignified squawk. The noise has you choking out a laugh, and you turn to Copia to see him staring down at you with a painfully soft expression.

“It’s nothing, piccolina,” Secondo says, unhanding his brother, “We didn’t need bruschetta anyway. Prometto. The real star is coming soon. Please–” he picks up your wine glass and gives you yet another generous pour, “--go take a seat. Enjoy the company of the Cardinal, and Primo, and my other idiot brother.”

You nod, accepting your glass.

“Sorry,” you murmur, and you feel Copia’s hand rub warm circles on the small of your back. You’d be willing to burn all the toast in the abbey if this is what you got out of it.

“It’s nothing, signorina, truly,” he says quietly in your ear, leading you back over to the table. Secondo efficiently dumps the cremated bread into the garbage and puts an apron over his head which reads “Osculari Coquum.”

By the time Secondo tells the four of you to take your seats in the dining room you are…pleasantly tipsy and incredibly hungry. The smells coming from the kitchen are so decadent, you can feel yourself salivating.

“Here we are,” Secondo says, entering the room with a loaded plate, which he places in front of you, “Pollo alla cacciatora con riso.”

You have to sit on your hands to keep from rudely digging in before the others have been delivered their meals but as soon as Secondo sits down, you’re ready to strike. Before you can, Primo speaks up.

“I would like to toast our lovely new friend. To your health and happiness. May you find a home here amongst us. Benvenuta nostra sorella. Ave Sathanas.”

Sorella. The word sounds familiar, as if you’ve heard it in the abbey halls before. It makes a warmth bloom in your chest that you’re certain cannot be attributed solely to the wine.

“Grazie mille,” you murmur with a smile. “Thank you all for having me this evening, I appreciate it more than you know.”

Copia’s hand, resting next to yours on the table, twitches and ever-so-slightly his gloved pinkie finger brushes against yours. You look at him out of the corner of your eye but he’s staring diligently down at his plate, mustache twitching as he fights to smile. The sight makes your heart thud in your chest. It’s as if the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to everyone else despite the fact that neither of you openly acknowledge the other. It’s a breathtaking feeling and you wish you could put your finger on what is so special about this peculiar man.

“Bella, if you don’t eat that I’m going to eat it for you.”

Terzo is staring at you from across the table, mouth full of chicken cacciatore. The whole room, in fact, is staring at you.

“Shit! Right! Sorry I was…I don’t know where I was. Hmm.”

The four men once again exchange a look as you politely dig into your chicken and rice. It’s divine, as you knew it would be. The conversation flows wonderfully, the Papas all eagerly explaining the Ghost project to you.

“So you are all part of the same band?”

“We each had our terms,” Primo explains, “I was the first, Secondo was second, and now Terzo is the third.”

Your brow furrows as you mouth their names and something clicks.

“I’m sorry, you’re all brothers and you’re named first, second, and third? Who does that to their kids?”

Copia snorts into his glass at your candidness.

“Our idiot father, that’s who,” Primo says, and you’re shocked at his venomous tone, “You’ve met Papa Nihil, have you not?”

Oh. You’ve met Papa Nihil alright.

“Ah…yes. Yes, we’ve met. I don’t think he cares much for me.”

Terzo laughs.

“We all have that in common, bella mia! Consider it a badge of honor.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

“So,” Secondo begins, “you must listen to each of our albums and tell us which one you like best, sì?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m qualified to properly judge that sort of thing–”

“We insist,” Terzo says imperiously, “I want nothing less than an album ranking and your overall top five songs. Cardinal, see to it that she gets educated.”

“I don’t see how this is my area of expertise,” Copia says sullenly, stabbing at what remains of his chicken. “It’s not my band.”

Hmm. Another frisson of tension.

Interesting.

“If everyone is done with their meal, shall we move back into the kitchen for dessert? Piccolina, how do you feel about gelato?”

Your cheeks redden at the moan that escapes your mouth. Copia coughs sharply at your side, having turned red himself.

“What’s your favorite flavor, bella mia?” Terzo asks, rising from the table as you do.

“Stracciatella, definitely, but I will never say no to chocolate.”

“Ah! A woman after my own heart! Copia do you hear this? She likes stracciatella.”

The Cardinal remains seated, nodding distractedly. As you exit the room you see Primo move closer to him and put a hand on his back, leaning in to speak quietly.

—

“Oh topolino…she’s just as lovely as you said. Kind, smart, beautiful. Burns bruschetta but eh, no one is perfect.” Primo smiles as Copia looks up at him in earnest.

“Papa…I really like her.”

It’s the first time he’s voiced his feelings out loud and he can feel the flush on his cheeks creeping down his chest.

“I know, ragazzo mio. And you know what? I think she really likes you too.”

Copia’s heart skips a beat.

“Really? You think so? I-I want to do something nice for her, something she deserves but I’m not sure–”

“Spend time with her,” Primo says, smiling, “She is very lonely. Continue to be the friend you have been thus far - that’s what she deserves.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” Copia murmurs, “Surely she’ll tire of me or–”

“Surely nothing of the sort,” Primo says firmly. “If she cares for you as I suspect she does, she will welcome you into her heart. All parts of you, not just the best ones. You’ll see, topolino. Prometto.”

“Grazie,” Copia whispers as Primo places a kiss on his forehead.

“Hey you two what flavor–oh, I’m sorry, I’m interrupting something.”

You move to exit the room but Copia stands abruptly.

“No, please. Stay.”

You smile. If only he knew now how you’d take that request to heart.

#curator reader series #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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forlorn-crows · 1 month

Text

𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑶𝒖𝒕 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑫𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌

Rating: Mature (implied sexual content)

Relationship(s): Aether/Rain

Tags: daddy kink, quintosis (quintessence as hypnosis), post-hypnotic trigger/suggestion, implied transmasculine rain, mildly dubious consent & morality, intox kink, alcohol. let aether be SLEAZY let him be NASTY. we love a wine drunk lightweight rain.

Words: 2189

Guppy. The quint ghoul watches the petname hit Rain’s brain and settle there, making his hips falter in their swaying. He makes an unconscious noise, momentarily stupored. But the haze is gone the next time he blinks, replaced with the almost imperceptible dilation of his pupils. A few sparkles of amethyst blend into his normal cerulean irises, indicative of Aether’s little trick he’s just begun to play. It’s simple, really. A little post-hypnotic suggestion, if you will. “That’s a new one; have you called me that before?” Rain giggles a little and takes another sip of his wine. Oh, has he.

Notes: for my bestie @divine-misfortune; happy birthday, void! he requested "I am placing an order fr Aeth and his guppy,,,,As for what theyre doin? Good question-idk maybe gettin him cute n dumb in public or smthn so he needs his daddy" and thus, this fic was born

Read the rest under the cut, or on AO3!

The abbey grounds are alive with celebration; alight with lanterns, string lights, and a great bonfire down the hill; the smell of stew, mulled wine, and crisp apple mixes with the fresh promise of autumn that cools the breeze. Many libations are passed amongst the scattered groups of ghouls and siblings, as well as shared laughs and cozy conversation. It’s a nice night for festivities, and it’s only bound to get rowdier as the evening progresses.

Rain, of course, is no stranger to a good time. A glass of cranberry wine downed already with another one halfway drunk in his hand, he sways to Swiss and Mountain’s guitar-percussion duo they’ve set up just beyond the bonfire. The multi ghoul strums an unnamed melody while Mountain accompanies with a rhythm on an old floor tom. Easy-going and no particular songs in mind. A few others bustle around him—Cumulus spins Aurora around to her giggling delight, a group of siblings dance amongst their little circle, and Aeon is very obviously wiggling his butt for Swiss’ benefit.

Not that Rain isn’t doing something similar. Aether’s quite enjoying watching the water ghoul sway his hips and smile coyly over his shoulder as Mountain blows him a kiss. He’s equally as cute in the outfit said drummer most likely picked out for him: a charcoal gray thermal underneath a cream colored blouse, chocolate brown joggers that hover above his leather chelsea boots and show off black wool socks, all topped off with a modest gold ring on his wine-glass-wielding hand. In his hair, bright magenta aster blooms are woven alongside yellow heliopsis flowers in the waterfall braids looping under his horns.

A right autumn beauty that has Aether itching to touch, to charm.

“Hi, cutie,” he says appreciatively, slipping his hands around Rain’s waist after sauntering up behind him. He pecks the water ghoul on the cheek.

Rain hums and presses his chilled lips to Aether’s mouth. Cinnamon sugar and berry gracing the tip of his tongue. “Hi yourself,” he grins.

The quint ghoul falls in time with Rain’s hip sways, pressing himself to his back. “And what number drink are we on, love?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

“Excuse me, this is only glass number two, thank you very much,” Rain says indignantly. He turns up his nose playfully and flips his hair into Aether’s face, who simply chuckles and blows the strands away.

“Gotta pace yourself; don’t want to see this pretty face passed out in the lawn now, do we?”

Rain rolls his eyes. “I don’t see you enjoying the fruits of Mountain’s berry picking labor.” He throws another coquette look at the earth ghoul, playing it up as a compliment.

Aether hums. “Open up and let me really taste, then,” he lilts, nipping at Rain’s jaw with a growl.

“Ugh,” he laughs through a groan. In trying to dodge Aether’s attack, the red wine sloshes over the rim of his glass and soaks into the cuff of his thermal. “Aetherrr,” he complains, picking at the sleeve.

Aether tuts. “It’s only a little—it’ll dry, guppy.”

It’s simple, really. A little post-hypnotic suggestion, if you will.

“That’s a new one; have you called me that before?” Rain giggles a little and takes another sip of his wine.

Oh, has he. He plays innocent. “What, ‘guppy’?”

Rain giggles again, almost automatic. “Uh huh. Kinda like it.” Aether can tell he doesn’t know why he says so. It’s part of the design, of course, that he doesn’t catch on to what the nickname does to him. How each utterance weaves a little more magick into his mind, dropping him that much further. Rain hums, leaning into Aether more heavily than before.

“Thought you might,” he rumbles, giving him a peck on the cheek. He catches Mountain’s eye over the water ghoul’s shoulder, his expression now twisted with a mix of amusement, suspicion, and maybe a little bit of jealousy. Aether throws him a wink, and the earth ghoul rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a smirk.

He taps the rim of Rain’s wine glass. “Is my pretty ghoul gonna pace himself properly, or will I have to keep an eye on you, mister?”

“Mmm, you can keep an eye on me all you want.” Rain wiggles his ass against his crotch suggestively.

Aether chuckles and gives his waist a squeeze. “Watch it, now; you get into too much trouble and I’ll have to whisk you away from all the fun, guppy.”

Rain shakes his head exaggeratedly, whining in disagreement. Stumbling a little on his next hip swivel. “Nooo, let me have fuuun,” he protests. “I’ll be gooood. Promise.” He offers up the pinky on his free hand. The hammered gold band on his middle finger flashes with the firelight across the field.

Aether links his pinky with his own. “I’ll be watching,” he warns playfully, nipping at his jaw again. Rain doesn’t swat him away this time. The quint ghoul offers a pat on the ass before he walks away, busying himself with hor devours and fish stew.

It’s a few hours later before they cross paths again, Rain noticeably tipsier and loose-limbed as he converses with Dew at the bonfire. If Aether’s observations were correct, the glass of dark, blackberry wine in his hand should be his fourth drink now. He’d be inebriated without the magick, lightweight as water ghouls typically are, but the touch of quintessence makes him needier, more tactile than he otherwise would be. It’s a side effect that makes itself known quite obviously: kissing Mountain full on the mouth after his and Swiss’ set was finished, resting his head on Sunshine’s shoulder as she fed him prosciutto and cheese cubes from her snack plate, holding a sister’s hand as he walked with her through the small rose garden that surrounds the outside walls of the bathhouse.

Like this, he’s seductive and ripe for the taking. Aether’s drawn back to him like a magnet.

“ . . . wanna go someplace on the coast,” Rain is saying as he approaches the pair. “When it’s warm.” Rain pouts.

Dew makes a face. “Ugh, I don’t know if I can take more outside shows; too fuckin’ hot.”

“Y’re ‘fuckin’ hot,’” the water ghoul smirks, poking at Dew’s leg with his boot.

Dew just rolls his eyes fondly. “And you’re drunk, starfish.”

“Nuh uh—”

“Think Dew’s right, guppy,” Aether interjects, placing his hands on Rain’s shoulders. “Hm?” Rain raises a finger above his head, waggling it in front of Aether’s chest to emphasize his nuh uh. Aether can feel the magick swirl that much deeper under his fingers, making Rain hiccup and drop his head back against the quint’s body.

Beside them, Dew crosses his arms and laughs knowingly. “Guppy, huh?” He raises an eyebrow and bites the inside of his cheek to stop his mouth from quirking up further. Mentally, Aether shrugs. So a few of them know of his tricks—sue him. They’ve enjoyed the effects of Rain’s (and their own) nickname before, so, really, they have no place to judge.

“‘s cute,” Rain slurs, smiling up at Aether. “Gu-ppy. Guuuuuppy.”

“Why don’t ya say it a few more times?” Dew snorts, turning to busy himself with the fire and leaving Aether to his sleazy antics. Luckily, Ifrit’s there to hold his attention. The quint ghoul slips around and takes the free spot on Rain’s left. He’s immediately greeted with a lapful of clumsy water ghoul, who chooses to climb on top of him instead of stay in his own seat.

“Hi, love,” Aether says warmly, wrapping his arms around him. Deftly, he plucks the wine glass from Rain’s hand and places it on the stump beside them. “You enjoying yourself?”

“More now tha’ y’re here,” he smiles, all drunk and dopey. He loops his arms around Aether’s neck and hums. Adjusts himself more than comfortably on his lap, legs hanging over his hips and bellies pressed together.

“I’m glad, my pretty guppy,” Aether rumbles. Rain makes a noise at the back of his throat, quick and breathy. Aether watches his eyelids flutter for the first time since the night began, like a moth's wings as they carry the flying creature closer to the flames. He tuts and brushes his thumb over the water ghoul’s cheek, who leans into the touch with a needy purr.

“Y’ feel nice,” he sighs dreamily.

“Not getting tired?” he asks, a self-satisfied smile crossing his face as Rain fights to blink away the haze.

He shakes his head, sticking out his bottom lip and wriggling closer. Rolling his hips not-so-subtly against Aether’s crotch. “Uh-uh.”

“No? Looks like that wine is getting to you, love,” he teases.

“Aetherrrrrr,” Rain wines. He wiggles again, and Aether can feel the damp heat starting to radiate off of him. Teetering perfectly between giggly, aroused, and falling asleep standing up. “Let me have fuuun,” he echoes himself from earlier.

“Out here, in front of everyone?” Rain groans and sticks his face into the crook of Aether’s neck. He chuckles to himself and wraps those big arms tight around his lithe body. One more, and he’ll be just where he wants him. He puts his mouth to Rain’s ear and whispers: “No—don’t want you to get sloppy, guppy; why don’t we tuck in for the night? You and me, what do you say?”

It’s like a weight drops on his body, Rain going so lax against him until his arms slip off Aether’s shoulders, head only staying up because his chin keeps it hanging off of Aether’s chest. He’s not dropped all the way, not just yet, but his face pulls into an expression of bliss and his eyes slip all the way closed this time. Purrs increasing in intensity as he helplessly melts into Aether’s control.

And then he says something Aether wasn’t entirely prepared for; something that makes his breath catch in his throat and his pants get tight.

Rain sighs happily, stupidly, eyes reopening to amethyst-tinged slits as he gazes up at the quint ghoul. He smiles, licking his lips like a dog settling down for a nap. “Okay, daddy.”

Fuck. Aether bites back a groan. “Yeah, baby?” he says softly. “You wanna cozy up with Daddy?”

“Mm-hm,” he nods.

Aether scoops him up immediately. He can feel Mountain’s jealous stare against his back as he carries Rain back to the abbey, no doubt thwarting the earth ghoul’s plan to strip Rain of the outfit he picked out for him and take him slow and sweet. The quint ghoul flicks his tail behind him: next time, big guy.

Rain makes a noise of protest as he’s eventually plopped onto Aether’s bed, nearly falling over as he makes grabby hands towards the bigger ghoul.

“Just closing the door, sweet boy,” Aether assures.

When he turns back, there’s a blush on Rain’s cheeks, rosied from the cool air. He looks back at Aether with big eyes, whining as he starts to paw at his own clothes. Needy and eager. A picture of casual sin, the braids around his horns have gone loose from the night’s festivities, flowers cascading down his curls like fallen leaves that get stuck in branches on their descent to the ground. The merriment which disheveled his pristine look has also sullied his blouse, now stained crimson in a few rogue spots from the wine. And as Rain shifts and spreads his legs a little, Aether catches sight of the tiny damp patch in the crotch of his pants, his sudden arousal obvious and impossible to hide.

It’s enough to make his mouth water. “Fuck, look at you; handsome, handsome boy,” he rumbles. Aether crouches over him, bracketing Rain’s torso with his arms and leaning in to graze their noses together. The smell of wine and sweet, heady arousal hits him like a punch to the gut. In an instant, his resolve crumbles, and all he can do is groan. “Daddy wants you so bad, baby.”

Rain’s whimper turns into a gasp as Aether runs a hand down his thigh. “Oh . . . but—clothes,” he says dumbly, still grabbing at them.

“Don’t worry, guppy—” he breathes, tracking that hand back up to the waistband of his pants, then his fly. Rain’s groan is soft, trailing off at the end as he starts to slip somewhere distant, putty in the quint ghoul’s hands. Aether pops the snap and pulls the zipper down with one claw, pushing past Rain’s fly to cup him over his now damp underwear. His mouth brushes against the water ghoul’s messily, hungrily, and lets the momentum of it all take them both down onto the bed.

“—Daddy’ll take good care of you.”

#the band ghost fanfic #rain ghoul #aether ghoul #aether/rain #quintosis #aether x rain #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #ghost fanfic #the band ghost #quintessence as hypnosis #cw: intox kink #cw: daddy kink #cw: dubcon

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hypnoneghoul · 8 months

Text

Do Not Go Away

WC: 13k

Relationship: Rain/Dewdrop, Rain/Everyone, not rel. focused

Tags: Disability, Chronic Illness, EDS, POTS, Lots of Crying, Angst with a Happy Ending, Passing Out, Depressive Episode, Abandonment Issues, Self-Hatred, Marriage Proposal, Unreliable Narrator, Mild Suicidal Thoughts, Panic Attacks

"You finally did it, you pushed us all away. Congratulations, Rain. You are free." Or how Rain's body finally gives up and he gives up with it.

Notes: This is me expanding on this post in a heartbreaking way. Also making my worst fears come true for Rain, sorry not sorry, but at least at the end of the day he's not alone, right? While it's not my best work it's the most important and personal to me, I hope you'll like it. It's multi chaptered on ao3 so it's easier to grab a hold of an read bit by bit.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Now with art from Nono and Felix

Nobody really knows what went wrong with Rain’s summoning. Nobody really knows if it all originated from it, anyway. At least he’s not the only one, Zephyr is still there. What a thing to bond over, they have.

Rain was never doing good. Never good, just decent. He was tired all the time. And in pain.

“It is what it is,” he always said, shrugging. “It’s what comes with a faulty vessel.”

He was used to it already. Or was he?

He could deal with it, mostly. Sometimes it was better, sometimes it was worse, but in general he was okay. He had his pack, he had his music. He was okay.

Until he was not.

Until all he could do was lay and stare at the ceiling, without any power to move, with a lump in his throat, because everything hurt, the world was spinning and he was too exhausted to even cry. His phone was thrown somewhere next to him or on the bed, battery either already out or just right about to be. He could have grabbed it and sent a text—would his fingers manage? Hell, he could have even screamed—to someone, anyone, ask for…

For what, exactly?

Help? Help in what? There’s no helping him, is there? He’s broken and that’s it.

That is why he would just lay there, unable to move, unable to cry, unable to fall asleep, listening to his own shallow breathing and racing heart and feeling all the pain coursing through his damaged body.

Until it would be decent again.

Until the day when the decent would not come back.

This day was near, and Rain knew it.

The tour has never seemed so long. Maybe it never was, but Rain wasn’t bothered enough to actually check the dates and do the math. It’s not like it would change anything, would it?

He was a ghost. He was just there, barely present, just doing what he absolutely had to, and that was it. He was in pain, and despite the exhaustion he saw what it was doing to his packmates. They all had their own aches and they were equally tired, he hated that he was causing them distress just by… by existing.

Rain tried to convince himself it wasn’t his fault, he was summoned that way and most of the time he was careful as to not make it all worse. He knew his limits and usually did not go beyond them. Usually.

He hated that he was like that, broken, whether it was his fault or not. What did he do to deserve it? Most importantly, what did his packmates do to deserve to be burdened by his existence? What did Papa do?

The water ghoul tried his best to not be bigger of a bother than he already was. Swiss and Dewdrop usually called him a dumbass for that, told him that he was a bother only when sulking around with a frown on his pretty face. He always smiled at that, but when they looked away that frown always returned. No matter how much he appreciated the jokes, they weren’t fixing anything.

That was back home, in the Abbey.

Now, well into another tour, the rest didn’t even try the jokes. If they saw Rain needed them, they’d just quietly slip their hands into his and pull him away onto a couch or a bunk and hold him, sometimes letting him just cry it out. He used to feel better after that, just being with them, whoever it was. It was hard to believe that they still loved him, despite all, but some part of Rain’s brain knew it was the truth. It was what kept him alive.

He wanted to give them something in return, but he simply couldn’t. There was nothing but his body, the same one that caused all the problems in the first place. He didn’t have the energy for sex, not even the softest moments with one of his mates, not even if they’d do all the work. He knew they’d do anything for him, but he also knew he’d pass out the moment any of his blood went to his cock. The exhaustion and pain took away any potential need he might feel, anyway.

So Rain just was.

The only time he was something more, not just surviving but living, was when his aching fingers touched the sleek, shiny body of one of his basses. When his arms shook under its weight when he slung it over his shoulder. When he ran a finger over the thick strings. When he felt note after note vibrate through him.

It was what kept him sane.

He kept wondering for how much longer.

It was bad.

Three shows of the tour left. Rain didn’t think he’d make it. He was always doubtful, but this time it was the worst he’s ever been. He saw everyone around was worried, he wasn’t blind, even though they tried so very hard to not be obvious. They knew he wouldn’t listen or accept help, anyway.

He just had to focus, sleep as much as he could, eat well, stay hydrated, take painkillers and wear his braces and he’d be fine. He was a ghoul, for Satan’s sake, a literal demon, he wasn’t going to just– just fail. He was not failing anyone, even himself.

Rain didn’t help with unloading the gear or soundcheck this time. Not on purpose, he always helped, he was just asleep the whole day and no one woke him up. They did so just in time to eat something and get in costume for the show. The water ghoul would love to have helped, despite all, but his body was certainly grateful for just that little less work.

The show started out as usual, without much struggle, probably due to adrenaline, which—no matter how many times someone would play in front of thousands—never left. Rain started zoning out and trusting his muscle memory by the third song. Which one even was it?

He remembers tripping—nothing new—and maybe he even fell over once. Or twice?

Someone had to gently push the water ghoul in the general direction of his tech when the show ended and he didn’t notice. The bass was taken away from him and he was dragged around some more. He was so dizzy, he couldn’t really see, he realized then.

Rain couldn’t bend down for the bows, he’d pass right out. His back also wouldn’t like it much. He felt Cirrus and Papa gripping his hands for dear life but he couldn’t focus enough to squeeze them in return. He didn’t know if it was him swaying or if the stage was moving. Probably the former, he couldn’t see much and it wasn’t because of the mask. Maybe he was shaking, too? Most likely.

He nearly cried out when Papa and Cirrus let go of his hands. He knew he had to move, he couldn't just stay there standing in the middle of the stage like a deer caught in the headlights.

Rain tried, he directed all and any energy towards his legs and willed them to just work. He managed to take two impressively wobbly steps before someone—Swiss, his brain provided—wrapped an arm around his waist and took the majority of the water ghoul’s weight onto himself.

“I’ve got you,” Swiss whispered, and Rain tried his best to cling to his body as tightly as he clung to those words. He didn’t really register their way to the backstage area, having to focus on not collapsing. At least not yet. He nearly forgot about his back and hip and knee and ankle and–

“Can you stay here for a second? Just a second, I promise,” the multi ghoul asked him and he, somehow, nodded and Swiss let go of him before sprinting away, yelling something to someone. Rain could feel his eyes stinging and cold tears trailing down his cheeks and soaking into the balaclava. He tried to keep on his feet, he really did, Swiss promised he’d be back in a second, he could make it, but– he didn’t.

The water ghoul ran out of breath. He thought he saw Swiss running back in his direction but he couldn’t be sure, it was getting darker and darker all around. Was someone messing with the lights?

“Rain, shit– Phantom! Mountain! Move your asses someone!” Rain thought Swiss was yelling, but he couldn’t be, it was too quiet, muffled. When did he… when did he end up on the floor? Was Swiss holding him? His back hurt a lot now, legs too.

“I’ve got you, princess,” the multi ghoul muttered. Rain opened his mouth to reply, to tell him I know you do, but nothing came out.

He knew that was it, that was The Fail.

His eyes closed, and he floated away.

Rain was done.

Dewdrop got to them first, of course. He must’ve felt something was very wrong with Rain through their bond. “What the fuck happened!?”

“He just– he fucking passed out, I’ve no idea!” Swiss was panicking. Truly a rare thing for him but the way Rain looked, the way he felt, the way he lay there limp in his arms terrified the multi ghoul. Rain has had his fair share of fainting spells and multitude of accidents, but this was different, and both Swiss and Dewdrop could see it.

“Give him to me,” the fire ghoul growled, throwing himself onto his knees, but the anger in his voice was not directed at Swiss. He carefully moved Rain so the other could hold him. He knew Dewdrop needed it to not freak out himself. “Help me with the mask.”

The multi ghoul obliged, taking it off with shaky hands, as well as the balaclava. His lips curved in a frown when he saw how pale Rain’s face was, how sunken his cheeks were.

“Get Phantom,” Dewdrop ordered. “Or find a medic or something, I don’t know, just– just get help.”

Swiss turned on his heel, ready to bolt and get someone. As he did he could hear Dewdrop mumbling to himself, voice shaking, and the multi ghoul’s heart squeezed painfully. “I don’t– I don’t know what to do, Angelfish, fuck…”

Rain came back to reality slowly. First he registered the warmth all around him, but not the uncomfortable, overheating warmth. No, it was cozy and safe and it felt like–

“Dew?” he mumbled, trying to look around but his sight was, somehow, still not back fully. The warmth tightened around him—arms—and he felt and heard a purr from behind him.

“I’m here,” Dewdrop said, and indeed he was, laying with Rain between his legs, his back to the fire ghoul’s chest. Rain hummed and tried to twist so he could nuzzle into his partner, but the slight movement immediately caused a wave of pain to wash over his lower body and a whine to leave his lips. “Don’t move, shhh.”

“Wh– what happened?” the water ghoul asked quietly and tried not to wince as Dewdrop was the one to move and adjust so Rain could see him.

“Well,” he sighed, “you were exhausted and sore well before tonight’s show. Then you fell over during the ritual. Twice. I guess that’s what made your legs and back so bad. At the end you passed out. For a few hours, it’s three in the morning now.”

“Fuck,” was all Rain could manage to choke out. Tears began gathering in his eyes, and Dewdrop, still carefully, scooted closer so the other could bury his face in his chest and hold onto him. “I– I’m sorry, we have two shows left, but I– I can’t, I hate it, I’m s– sorry.”

“Shhh, don’t apologize, don’t you dare,” Dewdrop cut him off and cupped the back of his head, bringing him closer.

“B– but the tour, Papa–”

“Papa is not angry. No one is,” the fire ghoul didn’t and wouldn’t let him babble about something everyone but Rain found absolute bullshit. “If anything, we’re all disappointed you haven’t said anything about how bad it was.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”

“We’re not disappointed that you don’t trust us enough, I know that’s not the case. We hate to see you in pain, that’s it.

“I’m so–”

“Stop,” Dewdrop spat, but there was no venom in it. Quite the opposite, his voice nearly cracked and Rain thought he felt his heart cracking with it. He should’ve told them, asked for help. Now he made his lover upset and he was just a fuck up, he should–

“Stop,” the fire ghoul repeated. Rain took a deep breath, trying so hard to not burst into tears like a child. It was his own fault, he had no right to complain or feel bad about it.

He cleared his throat and whispered, “Where even are we?”

“In the girls’ nest,” Dewdrop told him. “Back of the bus.”

“What about them?”

“You need it more now.” He shrugged and another wave of guilt washed over Rain. The ghoulettes always slept together and the bunks didn’t allow that, so they had the nest. He’s taken it away from them. “They offered, they don't mind.”

“What about the rituals?”

“Playback. We’ve got recordings for everything, you know that.” He did know it, but he also knew it was nothing like live playing. The fans would be disappointed, he knew they loved each and every one of them. He remembers what happened when Sunshine and Aether didn’t show up when everyone had expected them, when everyone was excited to see them among the rest. Now, after a few years without any changes, the fans expected all of them and Rain knew he might be a favorite for many of them. He’d disappoint thousands.

“Stop thinking, Angelfish,” Dewdrop said. His voice was stern but not angry. If anything, it had a wet tone to it, as if the fire ghoul was on the verge of tears, too.

It took a few moments of silence, interrupted only by Rain’s sniffles, Dewdrop’s purr and the bus’ rumble, for the water ghoul to compose himself a bit and speak again, “Everything hurts.”

“Oh… I know, love.” Dewdrop was sure he could hear his own heart breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t– I can’t even say what’s messed up, ‘cause it feels like… everything.”

“As far as I'm aware, after Phantom’s rough evaluation when you were passed out on the green room’s floor,” the fire ghoul sighed, “one of your hips is dislocated, I think one knee, too, and possibly an ankle, plus one wrist from you falling on it. You also most likely slipped a disc and something’s up with your ribs.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe it feel like everything because–”

“It is everything,” Rain sobbed. “I’m fucking done, completely broken, D– Dew, I– I can’t…”

“Shhh, Rain, breathe,” Dewdrop’s voice was shaking, for once he sounded out of place and Rain hated himself so much for it. He tried to do as he said, but it was so hard, everything hurt and he was suffocating under an avalanche of thoughts that he couldn’t stop. “Breathe, Angelfish, breathe with me.”

“D– Dew, I’m– I’m scared,” he cried out and he could feel Dewdrop’s own tears dripping down onto his face before the last word even left his mouth.

The last two shows of the tour Rain spent on the bus sleeping. He could’ve been backstage, but he didn’t think he’d be able to bear listening to everything and not… not being there. Alone on the bus he could’ve at least cried his eyes out in peace, until he’d gotten a headache so intense from it he’d passed out. Two days in a row.

Then it ended, officially, and the next two days were a blur of traveling by bus, by plane and then by bus again, until the noise of wheels over a smooth asphalt turned into a crunch of them over the Abbey’s gravel. Rain pretended he was asleep, let Swiss believe he was waking him up when they got back home and let himself be carried away to his room. They carried him around a lot lately, most of it against his will. He refused to use crutches, so they started to just hoist him up like a child, not caring about his protests. He didn’t have the strength to physically fight it, so he ended up just limply hanging off of whoever pulled the shortest straw.

Now, the water ghoul was carried out to his room, where he spent the night alone, cold, in pain and miserable. He hasn't slept alone in ages.

Rain didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but it wasn’t particularly important anyway. It’s not like he had any plans and that made him angry.

He found himself not… scared, or sad, anymore. No, he felt so much rage, he felt like he was burning with it. He hated himself, he hated the world, the Clergy, Lucifer, his pack, Dewdrop. For what?

How could he?

The realization of how awful he was hit him like a freight train and bile rose in his throat. Rain closed his eyes again and hoped the sleep would return to him, so that he didn’t have to face the reality he’s found himself in just yet.

When he was roused from sleep again it was by a warm hand on his bare shoulder, making him gasp softly. “Rainy?”

“Mhm… Droplet? W’time is it?”

“Seven. In the evening,” Dewdrop mumbled, as if he wasn’t too proud of Rain’s achievement in sleeping for around twenty hours. Maybe it would be an achievement if he wouldn't be a water ghoul who can turn off his need to piss for when he sleeps. “Aren’t you hungry? Or dehydrated?”

“No,” Rain told him, simply, and yawned. He was annoyed.

“Still tired?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and snuggled further into his—somehow still cold—sheets. His eyes fluttered close and Rain hoped it would be a message clear enough for Dewdrop to leave him, but the fire ghoul seemed to have different plans. Rain heard him sigh and then felt the mattress next to him dip. He couldn’t have really prepared for the warm body suddenly glued to his side.

“What’r you doin’?” he barely held a growl back when Dewdrop started cuddling in even closer under his arm. Why did Rain feel like… like this? Dewdrop didn’t do anything wrong. Quite the opposite, he was doing his best to help, he didn’t deserve even a playful snarl to be thrown in his direction. If anything, it was Dewdrop who had the right to be bitter, aggressive and angry, not Rain. The fire ghoul went through things so much worse and he didn't act like a royal asshole about it. Not anymore, not towards his packmates.

And Rain? He was bitching around for nothing.

Where did that sudden rage come from? He felt like he despised Dewdrop but… no– no, he loved him. When did he manage to lose that sense of himself?

“Sleeping,” the fire ghoul answered, and Rain didn’t dare open his mouth again, lest he hurt his lover worse than he already did, not even realizing it. He swallowed it down and this time his eyes had to be forced to close, his body had to be forced to relax and sleep had to be begged to take him. Rain didn’t sleep well that night.

In the morning he was the first to wake up, too. He spent the next five or fifty minutes staring down at the ghoul in his arms. That beautiful, kind, pure creature that didn’t deserve any hatred and maltreatment he experienced over the years. The man that Rain gave his heart and soul up for, and begged him to let him do so. The one the water ghoul loved more than anything, both Topside and in the Pits, in his immortal life.

And yet…

And yet Rain couldn’t wait for Dewdrop to wake up, get up and leave.

No, he didn’t want him to leave, that was… it was his worst nightmare. He never wanted to be alone, he was afraid of being alone, of being left behind and forgotten, of not being touched, of not being loved, what–

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Rain wasn’t sure how long it took for Dewdrop to wake up. Wasn’t sure how long he spent drowning in thoughts that weren’t his own. What would they be doing in his head, then?

The fire ghoul got up and left—finally, Rain’s mind provided—claiming it was going to be a busy day for him. Something about post-tour gear maintenance and paperwork related to it. Dewdrop proposed he’d find someone to keep Rain company, but the water ghoul insisted he was fine on his own. It was possibly the biggest lie that had ever escaped his mouth, but Dewdrop left it alone. Left Rain alone.

He promised he’d be back by the end of the day, that he’d come back to spend the night with Rain again. In his mind he both begged Dewdrop to fulfill that promise and to never come near him again.

He wanted to be alone, but the moment the fire ghoul closed the door behind him Rain whimpered and if he had at least a fraction of strength in him, he’d throw himself onto the floor and crawl after Dewdrop and beg him not to leave.

He didn’t, so there Rain was, submerging bit by bit in an ocean of thoughts that he desperately wanted to not be his, to not come true. Why couldn’t he swim?

Another day.

Rain woke up alone and cold. Dewdrop didn’t come back.

His heart hurt, but he couldn’t blame him. He must’ve felt the negativity pouring off of Rain in waves, he must’ve known what was going through his head, he must’ve seen the change in how he held him.

The water ghoul didn’t know the time again. The curtains in his windows were shut, he couldn’t really estimate. It was probably more of an afternoon than a morning, but he didn’t care. He found himself not caring about a lot of things nowadays.

He opened his eyes with a sigh and tried his best to turn over onto his other side without causing himself any pain. He managed relatively well, only groaning a bit, but something set in the corner of his room, that wasn’t there before and wasn’t supposed to be there, caught his eye. A growl rose in his throat as Rain grabbed his phone and furiously found Swiss’ nickname in his contacts.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty, you need anything?” the multi ghoul’s disgustingly sweet voice sounded from the speaker after a few seconds.

“Come here,” Rain snarled and hung up.

He knew Swiss would burst through the door in seconds, scared he might need help. In the short meantime the water ghoul threw his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. He padded over to that offending thing, and leaned against his desk next to it, glaring at it with gaze so fiery it could rival Dewdrop’s own.

“What’s wrong?” Swiss all but ran into the room, not being too careful about the door. He paused in the middle of it, taking in Rain’s fury.

“What the fuck is that?” he spat.

“It’s… uhm, it’s a wheelchair.”

“I can fucking see that!” the water ghoul shouted. Did Swiss think he was stupid? Did he think it was funny? “What is it doing here?”

“I brought it down from the infirmary.” He shrugged, brows furrowed at Rain’s raised voice. So he was right, it was his brilliant idea. “Can be useful.”

Silence fell for a moment, and Swiss thought Rain was thinking it through, that he was trying to be reasonable. But then he lifted his head and the multi ghoul felt like he was about to drown in the depth of anguish in Rain’s eyes. “Get it out.”

“What?”

“Get it out!” he blew up, spit flying from his mouth and tears clinging to his lashes. Before Swiss could make a move to do as he said, Rain snarled and turned to kick the wheelchair. It turned over a few times before ending up on the other side of the room, the multi ghoul’s eyes following it, but his head snapped back to Rain when he heard a thud and a painful moan from him. He put too much weight onto his bad leg when kicking that damned thing and nearly folded in on himself as he went down to the floor.

“Raincloud, Lord Below…” Swiss gasped, coming closer to help the other, but another growl—this time obviously being supposed to be threatening—escaped Rain’s mouth, curved into a pained frown.

“Don’t!” he yelled again. “Don’t fucking touch me, just– just get out.”

“Rain, I don’t–” Swiss tried, reaching a hand out. It hurt him so much, seeing Rain in pain, seeing him so– so miserable and broken. He’d never wished anything in his life as bad as to be able to take it all away from the water ghoul.

“I SAID GET OUT!” Rain still tried to sound relatively collected, act like it was only rage that was consuming him, nothing else. It was a fool's errand, of course, especially in front of Swiss. He could see right through him.

“Do you want Dew?” the multi ghoul asked quietly, not looking at Rain anymore. He let out a pained whimper, as if Swiss had just put a knife through his heart. He took it as a no.

The multi ghoul didn’t see a point in upsetting Rain any further. He nodded—pity pouring off of him—and turned on his heel to leave, shutting the door behind him. Leaving the flipped over wheelchair in the corner of the room.

Only when Rain couldn’t hear Swiss’ footsteps in the distance anymore did he break, tears flowing down his cheeks like waterfalls as he choked on them sobbing, curled up on the floor.

He cried and cried, sickeningly reveling in the pain increasing and enveloping him and the anger swallowing him up, until all he could do was stare at the scratched and dirty hardwood and desperately gasp for breath like a fish pulled out of water. In a way he was, and he began daydreaming about sinking to the bottom of the lake and never coming up again.

He’d miss the music and his pack but… would they miss him?

Dewdrop was spending most of the week following their return from tour busying himself with chores, sleeping with anyone but Rain and crying. Usually into Swiss’ or Mountain’s shoulder.

He didn’t know what to do and he hated it. He hated seeing his partner in pain so much he stopped going to see him at all after two days. He just couldn’t bear it.

What he couldn’t bear even more, though, was the glint in Rain’s eyes and the tension in his body that told Dewdrop he hated him now. He tried so hard to not blame the water ghoul for it—for anything—to understand, to let him feel whatever it was that he was suffocating under in peace… but Dewdrop was always self-conscious, contrary to a popular belief.

He was terrified.

Terrified of Rain leaving him, of becoming a stranger to the man he loved above anything else in the universe. That’s what would kill Dewdrop.

Aether told him it would never happen, that it was physically impossible. He said he saw and felt the bond between Rain and Dewdrop and that it was something unbreakable, even if Lucifer Himself decided to try. He said the water ghoul would come around when his denial and anger would slowly turn to depression, then bargaining and finally to acceptance. Aether told Dewdrop that Rain loved and needed him, even if not right then.

“I need him, too, Aether,” the fire ghoul had said, and left. Aether seemed to not understand, even though he was supposed to be the one who understood everything. It all seemed… fake to Dewdrop.

He promised himself he’d never hate Rain. That no matter what he would do, what would happen, no matter how hard it would be, Dewdrop would be there. He would wait, even if it meant waiting till the damned end of the world. He would wait.

Another day—how many has it been?—of Dewdrop crawling into Swiss’ bed with his body, mind and heart all exhausted. The multi ghoul welcomed him with open arms again, crushing him to his chest, and let him whimper quietly.

“I miss him, Swiss.”

Even though Rain was right there, just behind a wall. Somehow that made it all worse. The fact that he was so close, yet never farther.

“I know, kitten,” Swiss sighed. “I do, too. But it’ll be alright.”

“I– I don’t know what to do.” Even though Dewdrop was saying those words over and over again, like a prayer, over the last few days, he couldn’t seem to get rid of his guilt. He was supposed to be there for Rain no matter what and what was he doing? Hiding in other’s arms because of his fragile feelings when his partner was in pain and alone.

“It’ll be alright,” the multi ghoul whispered, as every time before that. There was nothing else to say.

Then, as usual, after some time, some more whines and some tears Dewdrop fell asleep, Swiss following shortly. Dewdrop loved Swiss and Swiss loved him, they always slept well together, but those nights they both seemed to not get any real rest. Weighted down by the feeling of their lover, their friend, their family rotting.

When they woke up in the morning—Dewdrop first—they talked again. The fire ghoul always got ideas overnight, something he put all the remaining scraps of hope into, and shared them with Swiss, hoping for approval.

“You’re killing yourself over him, you know that?” he usually said instead.

And Dewdrop thought, what if this time it’s a good idea? This time he was sure, actually.

“Swiss, what if– I was planning something and maybe…” he trailed off, tracing his fingertips over the expanse of Swiss’ stomach, “maybe I should do it now, maybe it’d make him understand that I’m here. That I’m… you know, not going anywhere?”

“Let’s hear it,” the multi ghoul said, but there was a tinge of hesitation in his voice already.

“We’re together, technically, but what if… he always wanted to… to do something more human, you know? I planned it, but I’m a fucking coward and…”

Swiss floated away for a moment, not really listening to what Dewdrop was saying anymore. He knew what the plan was, it wasn’t the first time it was mentioned to him. He wasn’t sure it would work. Besides, how was anything supposed to work? What did that even mean? Maybe Dewdrop was right, maybe he should do it. Rain would cause—was causing—a lot of harm but there’s no way he would hurt Dewdrop that bad, if he… no, he wouldn’t, no matter what.

“...could go and–”

“Do it.”

“W– what?” the fire ghoul sputtered. “You like the idea?”

“I’m not sure,” Swiss sighed, nuzzling his face down into Dewdrop’s hair, “but I’m not sure about anything Rain-related right now, and this seems like something that could finally… snap him out of it.”

“Promise me you’re serious,” Dewdrop quietly begged into his neck.

“I just– I just don’t think we can come up with anything better, kitten. We gotta get him back.”

“We gotta get him back,” the fire ghoul agreed. “We gotta get him back.”

Dewdrop didn’t think he had ever been as nervous as now. He wasn’t just nervous, it wasn’t anxiety, it wasn’t stage fright. He was terrified that it wouldn’t change anything. He was terrified that it wouldn’t fix anything.

Still, he was not giving up.

He wanted to do it immediately. The fire ghoul parted with Swiss and ran to his own bedroom to prepare. As much as possible, at least. It wasn’t something one could really prepare for.

Dewdrop took a shower—boiling hot—got dressed in something that wasn’t a stretched out or stolen band t-shirt and bent down by his wardrobe to fish the most important part out. His hands were shaking, and he cursed himself out under his breath.

The fire ghoul shoved it into his pocket and stormed out of his room. Before he blinked he was already by Rain’s and he suddenly lost all the remaining scraps of courage he had.

It was a stupid idea, Rain didn’t need that now, he’d be annoyed, it wouldn’t work, it was a bad moment, he should just–

“I can hear you breathing over there,” the water ghoul’s muffled voice came from behind the door. Dewdrop flinched, cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

“C– Can I come in?” he asked, trying to hide the shake in his voice.

“Sure.” He cleared his throat, wiped his hands on his pants and grabbed the handle. Dewdrop slipped inside and nearly stumbled backwards as he got hit with a stench of… pain. Mental and physical anguish were hanging thick in the air and tears suddenly gathering in the fire ghoul’s eyes wasn’t just his body’s defensive response.

There was a mess on the floor, everything one could think of thrown all around the room. Curtains were half shut, barely letting any light inside. Rain was in his bed, sheets crumpled over the lower half of his body as he fidgeted with his own fingers and avoided looking at his partner.

“Rainy, do you–”

“It’s alright,” the water ghoul didn’t let him finish, glancing up briefly as he tried to muster up a reassuring smile. Dewdrop had never seen a thing so fake. “What did you need?”

He managed to forget what he came there for when he took in the ruin Rain was in. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The other wasn’t looking at him and Dewdrop felt as out of place as ever.

“Dew?” Rain said quietly again. The fire ghoul cleared his throat and squeezed his eyelids to banish away the tears of fear.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he whispered and put a hand back into his pocket, fingers wrapping around the item put away in there. “I have a… question for you.” Rain hummed in acknowledgement.

Dewdrop took a shaky step forward, kicking away a crumpled water bottle to make space, and took one last deep breath.

He lowered himself to the floor, kneeling.

Only then did Rain look at him again, “Droplet, what are you–”

“You always talked about how you love human traditions,” the fire ghoul’s voice was quiet but wobbly, as if he was to burst into tears any second. He just might, really. “That you think they’re cute and… and I know it’s not the same with ghouls, but–”

He paused. Rain was looking at him with his brows raised and his expression unreadable. It made Dewdrop even more terrified but he wouldn’t stop now. He pulled out the little box from his pocket. “Rain, I want to marry you. Like a human. Will you? Will you marry me? Will you be my mate?”

The water ghoul’s lips parted, mouth hanging open in shock. And something else. He stammered, eyes wide, “D– Dew, wh– what?”

“I know it’s stupid and cheesy, but I don’t care. Rain, I need you, I love you more than anything, you know that.” It was silent for a few moments and Dewdrop had never felt time go as slow as it did then. His face was burning and his heart was racing so fast he felt it shake his entire body.

Finally, Rain broke the silence, but with… with a scoff. “Really? You’re so desperate to cheer me up, or whatever, that you’re, what, proposing?”

Dewdrop’s ears started ringing, there was suddenly a crushing pressure on his chest and a sting in his eyes. Physical pain all over. He was sure the world was starting to crumble under him. “W– what? No– no, of course it's not like that, Rain–”

“Yeah…” he sighed. “You just suddenly got a dream of being mated to a cripple, sure.”

“Rainy, p– please, don’t–” the fire ghoul was crying now, fat and hot tears running down his cheeks.

“Oh, maybe it’s a charity kinda thing? That’d be fun.”

Dewdrop let out a choked out sob and scrambled to get up, dropping the ring under the bed in the process. Not like it would be needed now, would it?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, throwing himself at the door and pulling it open. He paused, just for a second before he ran out and slammed it shut. “I planned it for months.”

The silence that suddenly surrounded Rain again was soul crushing.

What the fuck did he just do?

Rain had no idea what happened to Dewdrop after he… left. He couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t hear anything, nobody came to talk to him. About this or anything else.

He dared to check his phone, this one time. All he found was a single text message from Swiss. Rain wasn’t hoping to find any words of consolation or assurance, he wasn’t that delusional. He found exactly what he expected.

man I know you’re in pain and all, but you fucked up

He knew he did. The worst he ever has, no doubt. He wished someone would come and yell at him—maybe beat him up, if he was lucky—but that would be mercy he didn’t deserve. What he was doing to himself was worse, anyway.

Rain didn’t think there was any coming back from this.

How could he? He didn’t mean any of it. He knew Dewdrop loved—used to love?—him, they talked about this months ago. He knew what the fire ghoul did was genuine, brought up by nothing but the sickening amounts of love he was harboring for Rain in his broken little heart.

If he knew all that… why did he do what he did?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Everything was the simplest answer. The truth.

There was nothing to be done about it apart from rotting in pain, the misery of loneliness he sentenced himself to on his own and the self hatred for doing so.

It appeared Rain couldn’t cry anymore. He had neither the tears nor the energy. How low he must have fallen, how far away from who he was, that even his beloved water decided to turn her back on him.

So he lay there on the floor surrounded by thrash—he supposed he was fitting in—staring at the cracked ceiling with unseeing eyes, as if his empty gaze could fill the cracks in the ceiling and the hearts of his packmates at the same time.

It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been days. The physical pain was nothing anymore, compared to the self inflicted mental anguish. The dull and somehow simultaneously sharp ache that was spreading in waves through his broken body was rewarding, in a way. Punishing, Rain supposed. He deserved every bad thing that has ever happened to him and that would be to happen to him for just this one horrible mistake.

He didn’t deserve the respite of sleep. When he felt it finally taking him, all he could do was pray to Lucifer to not let him rest.

His prayers weren’t answered. Of course, why would Lucifer side with him? He hurt Dewdrop, the one He had protected so fiercely all his life, the favored one. Rightfully so. Dewdrop deserved the world and Rain did not deserve to be even a grain of sand under the fire ghoul’s feet in that world.

He woke up with a start and a splitting headache to a harsh knocking on his door. It wasn’t asking, it was– “I’m coming in.”

Rain let out a grunt, but made no effort to move from his spot on the dirty floor. Swiss’ scent hit him as the multi ghoul loomed over him. It was a mixture of sadness, anger and… grief, Rain thought. What would he be grieving?

“I brought snacks,” Swiss announced and Rain heard something being dropped onto his bedside table. “I don’t care what excuses you’re cooking up in that head of yours, I’m coming back tomorrow and I better find them eaten.”

With that he turned around on his heel and returned to the door. He paused, though, and the water ghoul heard a sigh.

“He’s not really angry at you, you know?” Swiss said. Silence answered him. “I think it’s physically impossible to be angry at you, he’s just… you know how hard vulnerability is for him. He was planning it for quite some time mostly because he was nervous, and then he finally managed to do it and, well… you know what happened. He just needs a little space. He’ll come back, and he’ll come back soon, because that dumbass can’t live without you. You better be ready when he does. I’ll kick your ass myself if you won’t.”

Rain stayed quiet, trying to not let his mind hang onto Swiss’ words. He failed.

He heard the door opening, but before it was shut the multi ghoul spoke again, “Now get yourself the fuck together.”

Rain expected a deafening silence once Swiss left. Instead all he could hear was the pounding of rain outside, the noise of it pattering against the window. Rain scoffed at the irony of his namesake falling down just as he was falling apart.

He thought maybe he should reunite with it, let it soak into his dehydrated skin and make him feel like himself again. Even if just for a moment.

Rain groaned with pain, sinking his claws into the hardwood floor and rolling around. He bent his arms under his body and pushed himself up. His heart raced, head spun, but soon he was standing.

Swiss was right. Dewdrop would come back, he was too stubborn not too, and the least Rain could do was not hurt him any more than he already did.

He limped to the door, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating mostly from his hip, but hesitated with his hand over the handle. Maybe he should…

The water ghoul looked over his shoulder at his desk where a cane was laying, already covered in dust. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

Rain turned around.

“That’s an interesting choice of weather to finally go out,” Rain heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Well, uhm… a bit ironic, too,” the water ghoul muttered as he turned around, coming face to face with the other. He hasn't seen them in ages.

“You could say so,” Zephyr shrugged. “I’d say it can be symbolic.”

“I need it,” Rain sighed, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. He gripped his cane’s handle tighter, eyeing the other’s own.

“I understand. Good luck.” The air ghoul winked and took a step to the side, intending to go on about their day.

“Zephyr, how…” Rain took a deep breath. “How did you survive? How are you surviving?”

“I’ve got my pack,” they answered with a soft smile painted on their face. They looked happy. “When I really think about it, they’re all I truly need.”

Dewdrop felt his heart clench when he caught sight of Rain outside through the common room’s window. He wanted to smile and cry and scream, overwhelmed with all the emotions known to man. He couldn’t have known if Rain being out there, in the rain, meant anything, but he didn’t care. Limping through the garden with a cane clutched in one of his hands, Rain was out there.

Dewdrop stormed out of the den, running out into the downpour with no care in the world apart from his ghoul. He ran until he was just behind him, pausing with a heaving chest as the world rumbled all around. “Rainy?”

The fire ghoul could see the deep breath he took when he turned around. Dewdrop didn’t even get a chance to blink before Rain was on him, cold nose pressing into his neck, arms wrapped tightly all around the smaller ghoul.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

“Don’t have to be,” Dewdrop sighed, bringing him even closer. “Don’t have to be.”

Rain truly wailed at that. His knees buckled but the fire ghoul held him up, and it meant more than a thousand words. He’d always hold him up, wouldn’t let him fall. They both knew that.

“F– forgive me… please.”

“I already did, Angelfish,” he said and there was no hesitation in his voice.

“Can– can I… with you… stay with you t– tonight?”

The fire ghoul’s heart clenched tightly. He pressed a kiss to the top of Rain’s head. “Of course you can. Always.”

“But not yet,” he whispered, barely heard over the noise of rain. “Need it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s stay here for a bit.”

So they did, clinging to each other and waiting for the sun to set as rain washed down over them.

When Rain started shivering Dewdrop carried him back inside and to his room, peppering kisses all over his wet face on the way, his heat kicked up to not risk the water ghoul catching a cold. He helped him dry himself and change. It was a quiet process, neither of them having words to spare. They didn’t need them anyway. Not yet, at least.

What they needed for now was each other, and they finally had it again. Rain didn’t protest when Dewdrop patted his bare chest in invitation once they were in his bed. The water ghoul scooted over and glued himself to the other, curling an arm around his waist. Tails and legs tangled together.

They both haven't slept as well as that night for what felt like ages.

A few days had passed since that evening in the rain. Dewdrop has not stepped away from Rain for a moment over those days, always by his side, touching. Support both mental and physical.

Not much changed, really. Barely anything. Rain was still hurting, plagued by the pain his body was subjected to and the one his hurt body caused his mind.

But he smiled again. He took care of himself more. Well, Dewdrop took care of him, mostly, but Rain let him. He wasn’t fighting anymore. It was a slight improval, but an improval nonetheless.

“What do you think about breakfast?” Dewdrop asked as they were laying in bed one morning, lounging lazily and drinking each other in. Rain had the fire ghoul tucked against his side, lithe fingers brushing softly through the golden strands. He was about to open his mouth to agree, but the other spoke again before he could, “With the others?”

While the two of them did come across one or a few of the others over the last couple of days, Rain still hasn’t really talked to anyone. He felt guilty and doubted he’d be able to handle them all at once. But maybe… with Dewdrop…

“I– I, uhm…” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to,” the fire ghoul quickly added. “Just a proposition. We can wait as long as you need to.”

“No, I…” Rain sighed and swallowed thickly. “I want to. I miss them.”

Dewdrop tilted his head, looking up at him with his brows furrowed. “Really? You sure? We don’t ha–”

“I’m sure,” he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the other’s forehead. “What time is it?”

The fire ghoul turned to take a look at his phone. “Nearly ten. I’ll text them we’ll be coming down, okay?”

“We should get going, then.” Rain started to gather himself up to crawl out of their nest. Once he did and the obligatory dizziness had passed, Dewdrop grabbed his hand, pulling him in between his legs where he sat at the edge of the bed.

“If you’ll feel overwhelmed or simply change your mind, just tell me and we’ll leave, okay? They’ll understand. I just don’t want you to stress out for no reason,” the fire ghoul said, drawing circles on Rain’s hand with his thumb.

“I’ll tell you,” he agreed and with a pull on his finger prompted Dewdrop to stand up and fall into his arms for a hug. He kissed the top of the smaller ghoul’s head before they parted to get dressed.

Soon, they were slowly walking down the corridor to the common room, hand in hand, and the closer they got the faster Rain’s heartbeat was. Still, Dewdrop held onto his hand with an iron grip and wasn’t planning on ever letting go.

“I love you,” he whispered into Rain’s ear as he got onto his tiptoes to kiss the water ghoul’s cheek.

“I love you, too,” he muttered back, just before they walked into the common room.

“Hi, Dew!” Phantom noticed them first, grinning as he realized Rain was there, too. “Hi, Rainy!”

At his, not very subtle, announcement, the rest of the ghouls turned their heads in the pair’s direction. Rain had his head hung and Dewdrop squeezed his hand reassuringly as they padded further into the room. Apart from the initial surprise—a positive one—on the pack’s faces, no fuss was created. They greeted Rain and Dewdrop normally and proceeded to go on about everything as if nothing had ever happened. The water ghoul was overwhelmed, but grateful for this small mercy of not being the center of attention.

Dewdrop kept a hand on his thigh at all times, additionally giving him a warm squeeze to his still aching hip or knee. Breakfast was uneventful, a true blessing. Everyone had their own quiet conversations going on with a giggle rising up over the voices from time to time. Rain kept quiet but he enjoyed the background noise of his pack. Of life.

At some point Phantom truly burst out laughing, nearly choking on his juice. Swiss patted him on the back as he grinned and tried to not laugh himself.

“What’s so funny?” Cumulus asked with her eyebrows raised and a soft smirk.

“Bug finally found the video,” Swiss sighed. A series of snorts sounded out around the table.

“What’s the video?” Aurora asked, the only one clueless as to what was so hilarious.

“The one where he–” Mountain started but Phantom cut him off with more booming laughter and wheezed out words.

“Where he falls off the fucking stage!” he all but yelled. “Like a fucking starfish!”

“Oh, I saw that one,” Aurora giggled.

“Everyone did,” Aether scoffed, returning to his food.

“I know it looked funny.” The multi ghoul folded his arms across his chest and pouted dramatically. “But it was very serious! I was bruised for two weeks!”

Rain felt something in his heart souring, but he focused on his toast and the comforting warmth radiating from Dewdrop.

“Oh, I bet.” Phantom put a hand over his heart, as dramatic as Swiss. “It must’ve been so scary!”

The water ghoul gritted his teeth as the rest of the table laughed at Phantom and Swiss’ little act. Rain tensed up, thousands of words slamming against his brain now. Why did it even set him off? It was nothing, it meant nothing, they were just joking it–

“You’re so brave, Swissy!” Phantom laughed and Rain snapped.

One moment the room was filled with laughter as he sat by the big table, the second it was dead silent as he limped away with a snarl on his lips and stinging tears in his eyes.

“Rain!” Dewdrop called after him. He was so stunned at the water ghoul’s outburst he didn’t follow him right away. “Angelfish, wait–”

He slammed his door shut and locked it as soon as he reached his room, right in Dewdrop’s face. He threw himself onto the bed and curled into a ball, hands pressing into his ears so hard it hurt, to not hear the fire ghoul’s muffled, hurt voice, pleading with him to open the door.

Not this time.

Dewdrop shuffled back to the common room after a few minutes, knowing that lingering at Rain’s door would do no good. He ran a hand down his face with a sigh. Back by the table Swiss was consoling a crying Phantom as the rest pointedly stared at their plates.

“It’s not your fault, Ant,” Dewdrop told him. It really wasn’t. “He’s in a fragile state now, but he knows it was just joking around and not even about him.”

“B– but I–” the quintessence ghoul sniffled.

Dewdrop forced himself to smile softly, reassuringly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbled and let himself be pulled closer by Swiss as he wiped off his tears. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as the fire ghoul plopped down onto a couch. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

Dewdrop dropped his face into his hands and tried so hard to not just… break. He took a few shaky deep breaths trying to compose himself. He felt the couch dip next to him, then, and Aether’s scent enveloped him as the bigger ghoul wrapped himself around him.

“It’s okay, firefly,” he whispered. “You’ll be alright. Both of you.”

Oh, how bad Dewdrop wanted to believe it.

Rain didn’t sleep well without Dewdrop again. He kept tossing and turning for hours, and even after he did finally manage to fall asleep, he still woke up frequently. That’s why he heard the suspiciously quiet knock on his door in the morning. “‘s open.”

The door squeaked and Cumulus’ fluffy hair came into Rain’s view. “Hi, pearl.”

“Mhm,” he hummed in greeting, pulling the covers higher up over himself.

“How are you feeling?” The ghoulette came closer and closer until she sat at the edge of the bed. “Did you sleep well?”

“‘m fine,” Rain grumbled and shuffled away, not even trying to be discreet, when Cumulus’ hand hovered over his legs under the covers.

“Glad to hear,” she smiled, but the water ghoul wasn’t neither stupid nor blind. “Do you need anything? I can–”

“I said I’m fucking fine,” he growled, snapping his teeth. Cumulus flinched and quickly scrambled off of the bed. Rain could smell her scent souring in real time.

“Oh, uhm… I’m– I’m gonna go then… goodbye, Pearl,” she murmured and stumbled out of the door, still being careful and considerate enough to not slam it. Rain sighed, burying himself under the covers fully. She didn’t deserve it, there was really no reason for him to–

“No, you fucking don’t!” Cirrus yelled, out of nowhere. She, on the other hand, slammed the door so hard it was surprising the frame didn’t splinter. Before Rain could register what was happening the bedding was ripped off of him and it was his turn to flinch. “You’re either going to get yourself the fuck together or we’re going to leave you here to rot in your own misery.”

Her teeth were bared as she stood over him, fuming. “You’re in pain and depressed, we get it, but it’s not our fucking fault. It’s not yours either, but stop making it worse for yourself and us by being a little bitch.”

Cirrus was right, Rain knew she was. He was silent, but he hoped she’d rip him to shreds as she continued to growl and snarl. “Dewdrop didn’t do anything to deserve what you said to him, Phantom didn’t mean anything by what he said and you know it, Swiss was only trying to help because he cares for you.”

“Look at me,” she spat, kicking the bed frame. He couldn’t look her in the eyes, he was a filthy coward. “Cumulus was crying her eyes out feeling sorry for you at night and wanted to simply offer company in the morning. I understand everything, I really do, but that’s fucking enough, Rain.”

He felt like a child, being scolded as he fidgeted with his hands, no power to talk back. Cirrus was right, about everything. Rain hurt everyone, even though all they tried to do was help. He was a monster. He didn’t deserve to as much as live in the same building as his pack, those kind, caring and compassionate ghouls that were nothing like him, the miserable cripple poisoning everyone’s lives.

He’d do everyone a favor if he just… disappeared.

It could’ve been a day or a week again, as Rain continued his rotting. He didn’t have any will, energy or reason to do… anything, really. Once in a while he’d stumble to the bathroom to piss, but how often could that be happening if he didn’t drink anything? That was another thing, he was drying out, not only inside but outside, too. He was a water ghoul, for Satan’s sake.

Rain didn’t see a point anymore. He tried, he thought it was about to get better, he thought it was about to get fixed, he had Dewdrop again and he fucked it all up. Again. He didn’t deserve more chances.

Rain lost.

He flipped over on his bed, groaning at the pain shooting through his body at the movement after so long of being stuck in one position. The water ghouls stared at the ceiling, the moonlight dancing on the flat surface. He longed to feel the peace of it again.

It was cold when Rain woke up again. He didn’t think he had ever been so cold.

Something was wrong, he wasn’t– it wasn’t just cold in his room, he was freezing inside. Heart feeling like a block of ice.

His hands were shaking, his knees ached.

Rain noticed a bass laying next to him. How did it get there?

He tried to reach out for it with a whine, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t move. His body wasn’t listening to him. He was stuck.

“Please,” he whimpered, eyes stinging. He tried one more time.

His fingers twitched, then his wrist, but before he could grab the bass, it was gone. Vanished.

A shuddered sob left his throat and he brought his hand back to his chest, as if it got burned. Why did it… where did it go?

Rain got up, legs wobbly. Pain shot through his entire body, but he didn’t stop. He left his room, he wanted to find someone. He didn’t know why, he avoided them all, after all, but he suddenly needed them.

He walked slowly, holding onto the wall, wincing with every step, his jaw clenched. First door, Swiss’ bedroom. He knocked.

No answer.

Rain swallowed thickly and pressed down on the handle, opening the door with a squeak. He looked into the room but it… it was empty. Completely bare, no furniture, no belongings. No Swiss.

The water ghoul’s heart sank.

He closed the door and moved on to another one. Mountain.

The shaking of his hands was worse now, anxiety rising. Mountain’s room was empty, too. Rain’s heart was racing, fear engulfing him completely. Did they… leave him?

He limped from door to door, finding each and every bedroom in the same state of nakedness. The den has become a wasteland and Rain felt like he had slept right through it.

Tears were flowing down his face, his breathing was shallow and his head was pounding as he stumbled down to the common room. It was empty, too, but there was a piece of paper on the big dining table, covered in dust. Rain didn’t want to read it.

He did, though. He couldn’t not have.

You finally did it, you pushed us all away.

Congratulations, Rain.

You are free.

Rain woke up with a cry on his lips, body covered in sweat.

Did he really wake up?

His body hurt all the same. He was alone all the same.

He supposed that was it. His nightmares finally came true and it was nothing he didn’t deserve. He truly did this to himself.

Rain lifted an arm to move his damp hair out of his face with a sigh. When he dropped it he hit something that was laying next to him on the bed. Something like paper. He grabbed it, brought to his face and tried to see what was on it, squinting in the half-dark room.

A pain sound left his mouth as his heart sank impossibly deeper when he made out the words in Papa’s clean handwriting.

Rain tumbled out of bed, his knees hitting the floor. He scrambled up and with tears adding to the wetness on his face ran out of his room with energy he wasn’t able to find in himself for the last… well, he still wasn’t sure how much time had really passed since the tour had ended.

But now he ran.

“Even you can’t convince him to give up touring,” Mountain sighed, running his fingers through Dewdrop’s hair where his head was resting on the other’s chest.

“I know, but Aether–” he sniffled.

“Aether wanted it, it was his idea,” the earth ghoul reminded him. This was the third—or thirteenth—time they were having this exact conversation. Mountain wasn’t annoyed or exasperated by it, no. He just wished he was able to tell Dewdrop something else. “Sunny, too. This is a very different situation, Fire Lily.”

“Fuck, I know, but I– I just can’t see him like this, but I know not playing will be equally bad, Mounty. If not worse. ”

“Yeah… yeah, it will,” he whispered. It was the truth, everyone knew it. Rain and his music was something… it was one. It couldn’t be separated, Rain without music was an empty shell, a ghost. He needed it to survive just as much as he needed water.

Silence that fell after that was soon interrupted by a single vibration of Mountain’s phone. He reached out for it and Dewdrop could hear and feel his heart speeding up under his ear.

“Oh… I– I don’t think any of us will have anything to say about it,” the earth ghoul said.

“What do you mean?” Dewdrop perked up, anxiety rising in him.

Mountain showed him his phone, the band’s group chat open. The single text message from Papa hanging over the bright background was like a knife piercing the skin of Dewdrop’s chest.

Good morning, my dear ghouls. I am sorry for not informing any of you in advance, but I thought it best, considering the… circumstances. I hope you can understand my decision. All of you, please come down to the summoning chamber as soon as you get this. We are about to summon a new ghoul.

“They’re about to summon a ghoul now?” a choked off whimper left Dewdrop’s throat. That would… it would kill Rain.

“Seems like Papa made a choice a while ago,” Mountain grumbled and pulled the shaking fire ghoul closer to his chest, neither of them ready to face the reality. They both hoped the messages that came soon in quick succession after the first wasn’t Papa hurrying them. It was worse.

dew

my office

now

its rain

This made the fire ghoul scramble out of Mountain’s arms and throw himself out of the door without a word. The earth ghoul understood, he slowly climbed out himself and began to get ready. After all, the new ghoul would have to be welcomed no matter the state their pack was currently in.

Papa expected Rain to show signs of life as soon as he would wake up and see the note left on his bed. He knew it wasn’t likely for him to see the message on his phone. What the man didn’t quite expect was how he burst through his office’s door shaking and crying.

“Papa, please–” were his first words, let out in a breathless whine as the water ghoul stood in the door, clutching the handle for dear life. He looked like he was about to collapse.

“I’m sorry, Rain,” Papa sighed, leaning back against the desk and trying to not make the pity show on his unpainted face. “I made my choice.”

“I’m fine, I just need to rest,” Rain pleaded, coming closer on wobbly legs. Papa reached out for him. “I can still tour, I won’t disappoint you any more.”

“You have never disappointed me, not once. I’m removing you from the project for your own good.”

A hurt noise left Rain’s mouth before his knees hit the ground. Before Papa could so much as blink the ghoul crawled over to him and wrapped himself around his legs, begging as if for his life. In a way he was.

“Please… Papa, don’t–” his voice was breaking, barely understandable, “don’t take this away from me.”

“I am sorry, my ghoul,” Papa said, meaning it. It was a hard decision for him, too, he knew how it would impact not only Rain himself but the entire pack, but he was the head of the church now. He was responsible for his ghouls. In the long run, this was the better choice. Lesser evil.

Papa lowered himself to the ground and wrapped his arms around Rain—still babbling out his pleas. He held on tight, letting the ghoul cry into his shoulder. Rain clung to the man as if he was a lifeline, the last remaining scraps of normality in his life.

Not letting his grip falter, Papa dug around for his phone. As clumsy as it was, he managed to send a few quick texts to the chat, hoping that the fire ghoul would be bothered enough to open them and come as soon as possible.

How could’ve he doubted him?

“Rain,” Papa whispered into his ear after what felt like hours. “Dewdrop’s here.”

The water ghoul’s head shot up so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. Through the tear-blurred vision he saw Dewdrop’s silhouette as he stood over the two of them.

“Angelfish,” he sighed and before anything else could leave his lips, Rain threw himself at his feet, wrapping weak arms around his calves and clinging hard as he cried into the fabric of his jeans.

Dewdrop knelt—rather clumsily with how the other was holding him—and buried his fingers in Rain’s hair, bringing him close to his chest. He turned to Papa for a moment, gently asking him for space and the man left with a compassionate smile on his face, closing the door behind him.

“Rain… Rain, look at me. I’m here. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

“You– you’ll go away, you’ll l– leave me,” Rain sobbed, clinging to Dewdrop’s shirt with white-knuckled grip, as if he’d really leave if he let go even for a split second.

“Angelfish, I won’t, ever,” the fire ghoul tried but Rain was so far away, spiraling so hard that nothing was getting through to him. Dewdrop was shaking now, too, Rain’s pain and sadness choking him like they’d be his own. Worse. “Please, Rainy, stay with me, I’m not going to leave, I’m not going anywhere.”

“D– Droplet, I– I can’t–” his breathing was nothing but short, choked off gulps of air that he greedily swallowed but spat back out with another wave of tears after a second. Dewdrop frowned, the sound going straight to his bruised and cracked heart.

“Rainy, breathe. Please, breathe for me, please,” he begged him, on the verge of tears himself. He couldn’t cry, there was no point, he just had to– he just had to help Rain. “Please, baby.”

“I– I can’t… can’t D– Dew,” he wheezed out and it made panic flash through Dewdrop. It was too empty, he was… he sounded like he was suffocating and the fire ghoul could do nothing about it. “Dew, I– I’m s– scared.”

“I know, baby, it’s okay, it’ll be alright. Just breathe, please, Rainy.”

“Can’t…” Rain whispered without air, so quiet Dewdrop could barely hear it.

The water ghoul went limp in his arms, fingers letting go of his shirt, head thumping against his collarbone.

“Fuck, fuck, R– Rainy?” Dewdrop’s tears fell as panic rose in his throat like bile. “Rainy, please, wake up. H– hey, hey, Rainy, wake the fuck up, please, I’m begging you. Please…”

But Rain couldn’t hear him.

Rain came to surrounded by warmth. Nothing overwhelming and nothing… dry. He was in the water. He felt his limbs twitch, his chest slowly rise and fall.

“Hi, fish boy,” he heard a whisper and felt a breath on his ear. His brain was slowly catching on, registering his surroundings. Rain was in a bath. Dewdrop was with him, holding the water ghoul between his legs, against his chest. Chin hooked over his shoulder.

Rain tensed, breath hitching, but Dewdrop only tightened his arms around him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll look after you, it’s okay.”

No, no, he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t take it.

“Rain, stop,” the fire ghoul sighed as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. He must have had. “It’s not true. I love you, let me take care of you.”

“D– don’t. Don’t say that.”

“Rainy… you’re such an idiot,” Dewdrop chuckled. It threw Rain off so much he stopped squirming, mouth nearly agape.

“W– what?”

“Just… just stop fighting everything, okay? It’ll be alright, just stop fighting. Please.”

Rain didn’t know how to answer, but after all the hurt he had caused Dewdrop, the least he could do was to obey. So he did.

“That’s it,” the fire ghoul hummed. “I’ve got you. Relax.”

Rain took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut, and tried to follow the simple instruction. He’d be able to if he’d just stop thinking. His thoughts were racing.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Dewdrop murmured, a wave of comforting warmth washing over Rain. He wasn’t sure if it was the fire ghoul’s warmth or just his words. They were like sedatives for him.

“Can you…” he cleared his throat, “please, Droplet, keep talking.”

“Of course, baby.” The water ghoul could hear the soft smile in his voice as Dewdrop traced his warm fingers over the skin of Rain’s stomach under the water. “My pretty, brave boy.”

“‘m not…”

“Hush. You asked me to talk, let me talk,” he scolded him. “You behaved like an ass but you are my pretty and brave boy.”

The fire ghoul nipped at his earlobe playfully. It nearly made Rain smile. “Tried so hard to get rid of me, didn’t ya? It’s not so easy, Angelfish, should’ve known that.”

Rain let his body go slack again, truly relaxing now that everything seemed normal for a moment. If he tried hard enough he’d be able to forget how he hurt, how hard he messed up and how bad he felt about it. Dewdrop continued talking, mumbling soft words into his ear, pressing kisses to his damp skin in between them. Some things were hard to believe, some made him feel warm, some made his heart clench painfully, but Dewdrop continued talking. That’s what mattered. Rain didn’t even realize how much he had missed his voice alone.

He could fall asleep in that bath, cradled in the fire ghoul’s arms. He nearly did, stopped only by Dewdrop shifting, reaching for a bottle of shower gel and a loofah. Rain panicked, heart suddenly in his throat as he grabbed the other’s arm tightly. “Hey, shhh, it’s alright. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving, Rainy.”

Dewdrop nudged him to sit up once his initial fear had passed. The tub was huge, they could not only fit in there comfortably together, but also maneuver all they needed to. The fire ghoul smoothed a hand down Rain’s back, soothing him as he wetted and lathered the loofah with gel.

“Can I?” he asked, making sure Rain was okay with what he wanted to do.

He nodded, muttering, “I’m a mess.”

“Well, you have a nose,” Dewdrop chuckled. “I’m not gonna be lying to you.”

He was right, of course. It was hard to not end up a mess without taking care of oneself for weeks and that’s exactly what Rain did.

He smiled, though.

Barely a hint, the corner of his lips raised upwards by quarter of an inch, but it was a smile.

Dewdrop leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Rain’s spine before bringing the sponge to his skin, starting to gently wash him. The water ghoul closed his eyes again and relaxed, finally letting himself be taken care of, letting himself feel all the love the other had for him through his tender touches.

No matter how far Rain would come, one thing would never change and it would be the fact that Dewdrop was simply too good for him. Too good for this world.

“Droplet?” he whispered after some time, when the fire ghoul settled in between his legs to wash his chest.

He smiled up at him sweetly and Rain’s heart swelled. “Hm?”

“Would you…” he swallowed thickly and felt his cheeks heat up. “Is there still a chance for us to… you know?”

“What, Rainy?”

“Mate? Get married?”

There were a few moments of silence, but Dewdrop didn’t stop the light scrubbing. Rain hung his head, now burning with shame. How stupid it was to ask that. “You don't have to say anything, don't have to agree, I just… I need to know if you can still… consider it after all I've done. Just tell me if there's a chance.”

“There's more than a chance, Angelfish,” the fire ghoul looked up at him again. There was no lie in his glowing eyes when he spoke. There was only love.

“R– Really? You still want–”

“Of course I do, idiot,” Dewdrop scoffed. “I can't live without you. And you aren't that bad.”

“Fuck…” Rain felt like an impossible weight was just lifted off of him. His eyes were stinging but at the same time he couldn’t keep his lips from finally forming a full smile, something actually bright and real. “I love you so much, I can't live without you either, I'm so sorry, I was awful and–”

“Stop,” Dewdrop stopped him with a finger over his chapped lips. “It's behind us, it's okay.”

“I love you,” he repeated, breathless.

“I love you, too,” the fire ghoul shook his head with a grin. “Now are we calling the girls to help with the planning or…?”

Rain furrowed his brows in confusion. “W– what?”

“We're getting married aren't we?”

“You want– now?”

“Why wait?” Dewdrop shrugged and Rain could cry. He just might.

“Oh… oh, okay,” he mumbled instead, “yeah. Good point.”

The fire ghoul purred and pressed his lips to Rain’s own and it was another thing he hadn't realized he missed to a point of physical pain until he was given it again. Dewdrop pulled away way too soon, but Rain wouldn’t complain. Not yet, at least. “D’ya wanna get out? Go to bed and rest?”

“Soon,” the water ghoul sighed. The other nodded and rearranged himself in the bathtub, ending up with Rain against his chest again.

Dewdrop kicked up a purr and muttered into his ear, “You’re wearing a dress, right?”

“I am?”

“Are you not?”

Rain sighed with a smile, “I am.”

The tour ended two months ago.

It has been over a month since Rain started to get better. Not physically—nobody knew if that would come—but mentally. It is a road full of bumps and curves and turnarounds, but most of the tears and grief are left behind. Whatever will happen in the future, Rain has his pack. Enlarged now. He has Dewdrop.

And Dewdrop finally has Rain. All of him.

Whatever will happen, they will get through it.

“Hey, Bambi,” Swiss snaps Rain out of his thoughts. “You ready?”

“Nearly, I just–” he grunts, fumbling with the zipper on his side. “Can’t close this thing.”

“Lemme help,” the multi ghoul chuckles as he comes closer and swats Rain’s hands away from the offending zipper. He fixes it quickly and pats him on the shoulder, taking a few steps back to look him over. “Well, well…”

“What?” Rain scoffs with his eyebrows raised, ringed and manicured hands smoothing down the silky fabric of his dress.

“Nothing, I’m just proud of you,” Swiss mutters. “Now let’s go get your man."

End notes: Thank you so much for reading. Like I said at the beginning, this work is very important and special to me, I hope you liked it. I'd really appreciate feedback if you did, whether just a like/reblog or a whole ass essay. It wasn't easy to write and yeah, I'd really appreciate it <3

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #hypnone's disabled ghouls

298 notes · View notes

irisintheafterglow · 8 months

Text

can I say that? (pro!bakugo x you)

summary: you tell katsuki he's pretty. he doesn't know how to respond.

wc: 0.7k

cw/tags: established relationship, swearing, the tiniest bit of angst but mostly tooth-rotting fluff, very obvious laufey and sound of music influence

note: fun fact, "the sound of music" is probably one of my all-time favorite comfort movies. i like the singing and the love story :))) so that's why this scene is in here, it's just the most romantic scene in the movie for me and i really love the implication that finding your soulmate is a reward for doing something right in your past. anyways i talked too much, happy valentines day and enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3 happy valentine's day!

You know, I was thinking and I was wondering two things: Why did you run away to the abbey? And...what was it that made you come back?

“Hah?”

“Don’t ‘hah’ me. You heard what I said.” He grunts dismissively and continues to watch whatever old movie you decide to put on the living room TV. You knew he didn’t want to admit it, but the sappy actions of the main leads had his heart racing. You stick your pointer finger into his side only to find a solid wall of rock-hard muscle. “Hey. Say something other than ‘hah.’”

“Fine. Why the hell’re you poking me?” His eyes flick down to meet yours for a moment, a warning against you jabbing his secretly ticklish spots. Well, I had an obligation to fulfill…and I came back to fulfill it.

“Because I don’t like your answer,” you reply, adjusting your position on the couch. You were practically lying on top of him, one leg swung over his waist while you rested comfortably in the space between his side and the back cushions. One of his arms draped over the edge of the armrest, the other securing you as close to his body as humanly possible. It was a feeling of warmth that made your brain fuzzy, the skin to skin contact heavenly intimate. Your words had slipped out unconsciously and you didn’t know you’d verbalized your thoughts until his blunt response. “I feel like you didn’t actually hear me.” He glances down at you again like you’d sprouted four legs. And I missed the children.

Only the children?

No–yes!

“Of course I heard you. What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” Isn't it right that I missed them?

“Okay, then respond.” His deflections were becoming weaker, so you kept pushing while simultaneously fighting the urge to turn and bite his bicep.

“Thanks, I guess?” You roll your eyes and your silence finally gets through to him. “Was that not the right answer?” I was only hoping that perhaps you…

“It was an attempt,” you say slowly. Perhaps you might…

“A decent attempt,” he mutters. Yes?

“Agree to disagree.” You feel his temper flare and brace yourself to get flipped onto your back and pressed into the couch. The action, however, doesn’t come. Instead, an uncharacteristic frown passes over his expression, one that usually didn’t appear if it were only you two. “Kats, did I say something wrong?” He shrugs one broad shoulder. Yeah, something was definitely bothering him. Well, nothing was the same when you were away…and it'll be all wrong again after you leave.

“No, but I think I did,” he mumbles. And I just thought perhaps you might change your mind.

“Baby, it’s not that serious if you don’t want it to be. A ‘thanks’ is okay. I’m sorry I was teasing.” He shakes his head. Well, I'm sure the baroness will be able to make things fine for you.

“It’s not that.” You reach out to grab the remote and mute the movie for the time being, before turning to give him your full attention. “I’m just not used to getting called that kinda shit.”

“Being called…pretty?”

“Yeah. It’s new,” he explains quietly. “You’re the only one who’s ever told me that.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true,” you respond gently, brushing your thumb over his cheek. He practically melts under your touch. “Would I lie to you, Bakugo Katuski?”

“I fuckin’ hope not,” he says with ironic seriousness and you smile, his own chuckle lightly rumbling through his chest and against your body. “But, I think I like it.”

“Being called pretty?”

“Mhmm. It’s kinda nice.”

“As long as I’m not feeding your already inflated ego,” you point out and he barks out a laugh, a real one. “Can I call you ‘pretty’ more often, then?”

“I guess so,” he replies nonchalantly and it’s your turn to frown. The shit-eating grin that pulls at the corner of his mouth is not lost to you. He was an idiot sometimes, but he was your idiot.

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

“Fine, fine. Yes, call me ‘pretty’ more often.” He pauses and you look at him expectantly, waiting for the pieces to click. “Please.”

Nodding in satisfaction, you reach out to unmute the movie and settle back onto his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut. He sighs contently, rubbing his hand up and down your back and sliding you both further into the numerous pillows. So somewhere in my youth or childhood…I must have done something good. His voice drifts into your ears as you start to doze off, soft and precious like telling a secret.

“I think you’re pretty too.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#i really hope this is readable lol #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bakugo fluff

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cosmicseafoam · 3 months

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You can't just tag that one mindvirus post as Phantom and not elaborate 👀

😇

I’ve talked about it a teeny little bit before but haven’t gone super in depth. Sorry this got so long lmao

CW for dubcon mentions.

I think phantom absolutely uses their quint powers for evil. It’s all pre-discussed and consensual, and certain ghouls have agreed to not know when they’re going to use it.

Aether and Omega both think it’ll be impossible for phantom to take them down. They’re much bigger than bug, and they’ve been around a lot longer. Plus they know bug doesn’t pay much attention in their lessons, comes across as uninterested in harnessing their skills. But the look of fear that flashes across Aethers face when he sees just how quickly Phantom weaves their magic into Omegas brain will fuel their orgasms for the next Millenia. Now sometimes when they're having infirmary meetings, Phantom will locks eyes with Aether and smirk as they gently ghost a fingertip over Omegas neck and let a tiny bit of quintessence slip in just to smell the panic and arousal.

Swiss can feel it as it happens but loves not knowing when it'll be. Can feel the lightning crackle through his blood, can see the lavender haze swirl across his vision before it takes over. He likes it when Phantom takes it slow and teases him with it, they both like that Swiss pretends to put up a fight about it. As if the small amount of quintessence he harnesses could ever be a match against Phantom. Sometimes Phantom likes to give him an out of body experience, uses him like a doll while all Swiss can do is watch on. Sometimes Phantom likes to make him hyper aware of his actions but completely out of control. This is how it all started, really. So sure of themselves but too nervous to ask Swiss to be rough. To make Phantom take everything he was willing to give. So they pumped him full of quintessence, laughed at the confusion on Swiss' face and sighed. "Oh no, please don't hurt me. Please please you can't cum in me I'll get pregnant. No, please, don't." All while making Swiss manhandle them like a ragdoll.

Rain hasn't let Phantom use it on him yet, but will gladly join in while they pump Dewdrop full of quintessence. Sometimes Dew just desperately needs to get out of his own head, and Phantom is more than happy to help him with that. Will lean him back to chest on their lap, slender hand gently wrapped around his throat until his eyes glaze over into a soft purple. Will hold him there and softly stroke across his stomach and chest, holding Dews legs open with their own while Rain eats him out before Rain takes turns fucking them both with his tentacle.

I think the first time Rain ever lets Phantom use their quintessence on him is when his clutch comes early and he NEEDS to lay them but Dew is away with Papa on important abbey business but Rain is too embarrassed to ask outright. Comes to Phantom with tears in his eyes, places Phantoms fingertips onto his temple and they know exactly what he needs. Takes Rain back to his nest and pumps quintessence into his skull until Rain has them pinned with their legs to their chest, telling Phantom to "fucking take it" and their eyes roll back in their head at the feeling of Rain emptying his eggs into them.

The first time they use it on Cumulus is so she'll fully seat herself on their face, happy to be used as a toy for her pleasure. The first time they use it on Cirrus, it's to lull her into an almost sleep, interlocking their legs together and rubbing their little t dick against her clit but not letting her cum for hours. The first time they use it on both of them together is just because they want to watch the girls fight for dominance. Phantom isn't even involved, just watching to the side as they wrestle each other, trying to get the other to submit for long enough to pin the other down and fuck them with a quint strap.

Turns out, Mountain is actually the hardest ghoul for Phantom to take over so they HAVE to do it when Mountain is blissfully unaware. Typically sneaking into the greenhouse when Mount has been out there too long, snakes their skinny arms around his waist and underneath his singlet, pumping as much quintessence into him as quickly as possible before he realises it's happening. Phantom has gotten in trouble for many broken pots this way but it's worth it to watch Mountain lose control of his glamour, growing impossibly huge and pinning Phantom to the dirt, fucking them until they can't take it anymore.

To me, Phantom and Aurora are siblings so they only ever use it for really childish things like a classic "stop hitting yourself" or when Aurora pours the last of Phantoms favourite cereal but Phantom wants to take it without a fight.

#larsposting #shitghosting #lars writes #phantom ghoul #quintessence hypnosis #lars barks #dubcon sorta #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes

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skele-bunny · 27 days

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The council has spoken.

RRAAA ALPHABELL!!!! ( Tiny tag: @ourfatherwhoartinhell , @artificialmoth !) they are CHEESY. And they are in LOVE!! I refuse to hear otherwise.

It was a strange welcome when Cowbell joined the group on tour, just all smiles and waving. Just excited to be out of the abbey and experience something he never really "qualified" for. Just staring out the window and always asking questions. Never really bothered the others, they've been around Bell for a LONG time. But it's such a new light to see their elder in such a new state of pure wonder and curiosity, especially to Alpha.

Alpha's always been curious about Bluebell to be honest, just her mannerisms and how he engages with the world on such a different view than other ghouls. How he's more human just like Special. They've always gotten along, never had any issues but it's just... Something about being stuck on the road for such a long time, together, that Alpha starts feeling a bit weird about it all.

He's suddenly more aware of her. Of how she smiles, his stuffy laugh, how she clings to Terzo's shirt when in a new place, how when he takes his hearing aids out he seems SO much calmer while looking out the window. Just how Bell seems to be an entirely different person. His staring being noticed by the others and teased about it, just getting eye rolls and shooing them away.

"Big dog crushing on the sheep? Aww!" Omega just snickering before Alpha kicks him off the couch in the lounge.

Alpha does NOT have feelings for Bluebell. He's adamant about that!! Just because his face warms up every time they make eye contact, just because he felt his heart go a bit faster when Bell held his arm as Terzo was unavailable, just because she fell asleep on his chest while watching a movie and he adjusted to where her head wouldn't fall, just because he's daydreaming about the null ghoul almost constantly, doesn't mean he... Has... ... Fuck.

He's head over heels, isn't he?

Bell being the first one to make Alpha's fire go blue for the first time...... Just admiring as they're bunked together in a hotel, Alpha cupping a small flame and Bell carefully reaching forward to touch it and oh man... How her eyes lit up as it turned to a gentle blue, dancing over his fingertips before he pulled back. Alpha is blushing HARDCORE. They just keep eye contact for a minute, Alpha hesitating if he should lean forwards or not. Just as he's about to, Aër knocks at their door and Alpha combusts all over again. (Aër doesn't hear the end of it from the others for interrupting them trying to matchmake.)

Finally he gets the balls the last week of tour, Bell so burnt out and tired but happy and eager when Alpha asks him; "Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Bell's never been good at holding glamour for long let alone being in super crowded spaces (they learned that VERY quickly at the start), but Alpha's aware of that! Just orders something to go at some little diner and walks to the park, just the two of them laughing and talking — even to the point Bluebell starts rambling about a new pack of buttons she got from Terzo a few days ago. And he's ALL for it. Just watching with admiration as she's info dumping about all kinds of buttons she has. 2-holes, 4-holes, snap buttons, you name it! Just going on and on about what they're best used for and rocking back and forth.

"What's this button good for?" Just shows his flannel and Bell gets close, just admiring with a big ole smile.

"It's a shank button which means it makes everything go more flat, more smooth, and provides a pretty look!" And she just looks up, cheeks red before finally mumbling out. "I think it works well... You really do look pretty.."

And Alpha just sighs. "I think you look pretty, too... All the time, really."

They're just staring before Bell reaches his hands up, fingers so gentle as he runs over his stubble and jawline. Alpha finally taking the moment to lean in with such space first just in case Bell pulls away. But he doesn't. So Alpha finishes it. Holds her hips so gently before pulling back and they're both just a smiling, laughing mess before Bell literally jumps on Alpha, just kissing him over and over again. They just walk back hand-in-hand, a smile that can't be removed. The entire ride home they're inseparable, Bell just tapping his chest before pointing at her mouth, indicating for a kiss.

"If I see them do it one more time I think the bus is going to end up Valentine's themed." And Aër just gets a pillow thrown at him by Omega.

Alpha loves Bell AS Bell. Not as anything else. Loves her when she's deaf, loves her when her hearing aids are in. Loves him when he's overstimulated, loves him when he's under stimulated, loves him when he's content. Loves hearing his rambles about buttons and weapons. Especially loves watching her small sheep tail just go 100 mph almost all the time.

Bell loves him just as much. Always getting excited when he stops by to visit her and literally picking him up to hug. How he'll get all embarrassed when Alpha does a pushup with her on his back. Just making gifts for him CONSTANTLY that he shows off soooo proudly, specifically when Bell hand carved a burning rose for him. Always whiny when they're away but bursting with joy when he comes back and flops into Bell's arms. Just slowly tracing down his scars from the pits and some topside, kissing each one and purring.

They're so good at taking care of each other's needs, too ;-;. Alpha knowing when to not touch or warm up his hands to help center Bell down. Bell knowing how to calm Alpha down when he has rage fits. How Bell will let Alpha hold his tiny tail or run fingers through his fur, just as much Alpha lets her run her fingers over his horns and jaw again.

GAAHH tall gf and short bf & sheep and herding dog trope my beloved..... Idk man I just love them a lot wjjwjd

#the band ghost #ghost band #rabrev writing #alpha ghoul #cowbell ghoul #alphabell

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gingerteaonthetardis · 4 months

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okay but it's big day for coming through with photos for @sunnibits 💚 adopted my sister's giant rabbit (i call him asmodeus, lord of the hells—nigel for short), adopted a neighbor's chickens, and sniffed some lilacs in the process

#abbey.jpeg #lilacposting #abbey's happy tag

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fishwithtitz · 10 months

Text

A Simple Existence (a Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader one shot)

A/N: This one was written specifically for my sweet cheese, my main babe Jen (@copias-juicebox). Her birthday was on Wednesday and this is a very belated present created with her in mind. Girl, you wanted subby sweet Copia, you got him! Love you so much and I'm so happy I met you. Alles Gute zum nachträglichen Geburtstag!

Also, special shout out to @anamelessfool, @eyeslikelilith, and @portaltothevoid for beta'ing and feedback <3

If you'd like to be on my tag list, please comment!

⛧⛧⛧

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader / 5.1k words

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, hints at dub-con (if you squint?), oral sex, piv, language, cock worshipping

ao3 link

Over the past few weeks, it had become more commonplace for Papa Emeritus IV to be sitting at his cherry wood desk, pen in hand as he rifled through various Ministry tasks late into the night.

To many, Papa was a figurehead of the church — both through his leadership in the spiritual sector of the Ministry and as frontman of the Ghost project. But so many didn’t realize the influence he had within the planning and implementation of the church and its projects as a whole.

It was almost as if he breathed much-needed oxygen into the lungs of the abbey and transfused his own lifeblood into the theatrics of the band. The Ministry was, to put it simply, his everything. It was something you had come to love and loathe about the man.

Tonight was no different than any other night the past few weeks. Copia sat perched in his worn office chair (the one he’d taken with him from his stay at the abbey in Venice during his time as a bishop), papal paint smeared somewhat from the occasional swipe of his palm against his cheeks as he thought through a complex task. A banker’s lamp and the starlight were the only sources of illumination in the office space — a tell of how late into the evening it had become.

You’d sat up night after night waiting for your Papa to come back to his chambers at a reasonable hour. Most nights ended with you falling asleep as you sat against the headboard in your shared bed or lounged on the loveseat in the sitting room. Tonight, however, you’d had enough. You were worried that the ministry was taking advantage of the Satanic pope’s hardworking and passionate spirit and the last thing you wanted was for him to spiral into burn out. Tonight, you would put your foot down.

It was a short walk from the Papal chambers to Copia’s office. You’d made the trek what felt like hundreds of times and this specific time, it was as if the route had been cut in half. Perhaps that was the speed at which your bare feet carried you, or perhaps it was the simmering frustration you had bubbling in your chest. Nevertheless, you didn’t bother to knock before you pushed on the oaken double doors to Papa’s workspace.

As soon as you shut the heavy door behind you, Papa’s head sprung up in alarm as if he had been shaken out of a trance. You walked into the spacious office, nightgown flowing behind you like an estuary, and stopped a couple of meters away from where he sat.

“Il amore mio, what are you doing h-”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You found yourself cutting off his tired greeting.

Copia pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temples, gently rubbing them as he closed his eyes in defeated frustration. “I haven’t looked at the clock in a while.”

“It’s nearly one in the morning,” you answered for him, taking a step towards the cherrywood desk. “Come to bed. It’s not doing you any good burning the midnight oil.”

Copia’s hand dropped from his temples and on any other occasion, you would smirk at the sight of the smudged paint on his fingertips. “I assure you that I have plenty of fuel left for this candle’s flame, amore mio,” he said.

“But you’re burning it at both ends!” you retorted, voice raising in a mix of sympathy and frustration. “Copia, it’s not a matter of if you’ll drive yourself into the ground but when.” You moved to round the large wooden desk, and as you approached him, your expression softened. “All of this can wait until tomorrow,” you said, voice slightly calmer now.

You shifted behind him and snaked your arms around his shoulders, resting them on his strong chest. Your lips pressed to the hair atop his head. The salt-and-pepper streaked strands that once were combed back on his head but had since begun to fall into his eyes and around his temples. “Just, come to sleep. I miss you. I miss my Papa.”

And you realized that this man, this hopelessly devoted man beneath the cloak of your arms was the picture of leadership. A perfect blend of authority and quiet strength. Measured. Loving. Dedicated. And when necessary, absolutely ruthless.

Papa sighed at your admission and reached up to place his non-dominant hand over one of yours, his pen still gripped tight in the other. “Il mio amore,” he began, voice apologetic and oddly tinged with dampened annoyance, “you must understand that I am everyone’s Papa. The work I do is necessary to maintain and grow the ministry — our outreach, our education, charity — the very diffusion of our beliefs lies within my leadership.”

At his dismissal, you felt your grip around him loosen, your hands sliding from around his shoulders as you stepped away from him. “You think I don’t know that? You are one man, Copia. You can’t do it all,” you began as you ran your hand through your hair in frustration. You stepped to the side to better face him, hoping to see him — even just a glance at the mismatched eyes you were growing to love. “I’m tired of watching you run yourself ragged trying. And quite frankly, I’m tired of being left behind while you choose your work over everything else in your life.”

Copia’s eyes finally rose to meet yours. His voice changed from his more understanding and apologetic (possibly even patronizing) tone to one of seriousness. “My work is my duty…my oath to the lightbringer, to his infernal majesty.”

The earlier simmering of frustration in your chest came to a roaring boil at his retort and you moved to face him, arms crossed over your chest as you leaned just slightly over his desk. “Well, I suppose it’s good to know where your duties lie.”

With that, you left the office, leaving Copia to ruminate in the reverberating slam of the heavy oak door and the ringing of your words repeating in his head.

Copia tried his best to finish up the task he’d been in the middle of when you’d stopped by his office at the end of the clergy wing, but no matter how much he attempted to focus, he couldn’t drag his mind away from the argument you’d just shared. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he had been neglectful in other areas of his life. After a light yawn escaped from his lips, he decided to pack up his work and return back to your shared room. Afterall, he probably owes you an apology.

He didn’t even remember walking back to the papal chambers, the weight of his exhaustion being so heavy that it dulled his sense of time. Despite this, when he entered your shared room, he still had the wherewithal to show slight shock that you were still awake and waiting for him on the sitting room chaise.

“Tesoro,” he started, walking around the loveseat to approach you, “I am sorry for the way that I spoke earlier—”

His apology was cut off, however, when you held up a hand as if to nonverbally signal for him to stop. His eyebrows creased just slightly in confusion.

“Go to our bedroom and get undressed,” you said, voice devoid of any emotion yet strangely demanding given your usual countenance. As he opened his mouth to protest, you raised an eyebrow, holding your hand up again to silence him once more. With this, Copia’s eyes adopted a slight glimmer and his lips fought the desire to curve into a smirk. He knew what this meant.

He took a step closer to you and his voice lowered as he spoke. “You want to play Papa tonight, dolcezza?” As he approached you, you fought the desire to conform to him, to allow him to take hold of the reins that he so often gripped.

You steadied your countenance and gave him a simple nod in retort.

This time, his lips made the final curve into the smirk he had tried to withhold. As he made his way into the bedroom, his gloveless hand reached towards his neck to loosen his blue cravat (a favorite of yours, he remembered), and unfasten the buttons lining the center of his shirt. He shrugged both of them off and set them on the bench at the foot of the bed before working to remove his pants, belt, shoes, and socks. Soon enough, he was left only in his boxers, and he began to move towards the bed, assuming your insistence that he get some rest.

Instead, you nonchalantly walked by him as you rounded the four-poster bed. “I said undressed, Papa,” you remarked coolly.

He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised once more, before his expression crinkled slightly. “As you wish, amore mio,” he said. Your face remained stoic.

The truth was, as you waited for him to return from his office after your discussion, you realized that you had two choices. You could be angry with him for the neglect he’d shown to your relationship. It would definitely be well-founded, and you had every right to give him a prolonged cold shoulder in retaliation.

Or, you could approach the situation with the empathy you had craved from him. You could help him realize that his ascension to papacy did not require him to work himself to the bone. On the contrary, it should allow him to revel in the devotion that others craved to provide to him.

You’d decided on the latter.

Papa slid the silken fabric of his boxers down his toned legs (oh, how you’d love to worship those legs) and let them pool on the floor below as he stepped out of them. You motioned to the bed with nothing more than a flick of your gaze, and he sat against the edge.

“Back against the headboard, Papa.” Your voice felt weirdly not your own. Not that you were complaining, by any means. You felt a surge of confidence and power prickling through your body and you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what he felt like when he presided over Mass.

Copia scooted his body back to the headboard, back flush against the aged wood, and set his palms down against the pillows. After reaching down to grab his discarded cravat (to which you internally smiled as you noticed the blue hue), your feet carried you towards him, padding softly against the carpet in the papal suite, and you pulled up the sheer organza of your nightgown to reveal the thigh-high stockings you’d adorned while waiting for him to finish in his office. His pupils widened.

Slipping them off with deliberate purpose, you gathered them both in your hands by their length and reached to grab his right wrist. Without hesitation, you looped the black nylon fabric around him and began securing him to the headboard. “You better than anyone know the values of our church,” -the nylon tightens- “the importance of self indulgence” -pull- “practicing the sin of lust” -loop- “showing our devotion to the one below through celebration of carnal desire.” He watched as you tightened the knot, testing its strength, his eyes deeply curious as he allowed this scenario to play out. You then brought forth his cravat and secured his left hand to the other side in symmetry.

You backed away and admired your prize. There he sat — the leader of the Ministry of Satan, Papa Emeritus IV, his Unholy Eminence, looking back at you while restrained against the bed with his infernal eye burning. With what? You wondered. Curiosity? Anger? Lust? Annoyance? Intrigue? He opened his mouth to speak, and you reached forward to press a single finger to his lips.

“You’ve spent so much time speaking on behalf of the church that I think you’ve forgotten how to listen.”

And it was true. All of his duties hung heavy on his shoulders. His ascension to papacy only seemed to increase the workload, and in recognizing his competence, the other senior clergy members dumped task after task upon him that he knew were not required of his predecessors. But, he’d wanted this. He’d yearned for it for so long. How could he stand up against the very ministry that he vowed to serve eternally?

Once more, you lifted up the flowy nightgown to reveal a pair of white satin lace panties. A symbol of purity, innocence — a stark contrast to your actions and the wicked man in front of you. Your thumbs hooked under the waistband and you slid them off, before neatly balling them up in your fist. “Open,” you directed. Surprisingly, Copia obeyed. You smirked and pushed the fabric past his lips and into his mouth, effectively silencing him.

Your attention turned to his legs splayed out before you. His strong thighs sat parallel to one another as they rested against the pillow-top mattress. Stretching forward, you began to run your hands along each thigh, enjoying the feel of the muscles beneath your palms as they lightly flexed under your touch. “I love these thighs,” you murmured, almost to yourself. You moved to straddle him, climbing just above his knees with your legs on either side of his. Lifting your arms slightly, you loosened the front tie to the bodice of your nightgown, then pulled both breasts out of the scoop neck. They sat directly in front of his painted face, and your eyes watched his as they traveled across the expanse of your chest, his kohl-colored lips barely parted. You swore you heard a noise escape from them.

You leaned in, breasts brushing against his bare skin as you hovered your mouth by his ear. “Patience,” you breathed, a smirk evident in your tone. As you pulled away, you licked your lips and continued. “You’ve proven that you’re very good at doling out orders. Now,” you trailed your finger down his chest, pausing at the bottom of his sternum, “let’s see if you know how to follow them.”

You knew at this moment that your attention, your affection, was what he craved. However, you also knew that for him to learn to let go, you couldn’t give him what he wanted so easily. Not just yet. So, you leaned back slightly and hovered your bare crotch against his own. You could feel the heat of the both of you and you smiled, pushing down just barely to push your mons against his length. It involuntarily twitched against you and you used this moment to pull back further, earning you a near whine from him (which you purposefully ignored).

As you sat back against his legs, you looked back down at them, biting your lip. “Fuck, touring has done so much for you. I can’t get enough of these,” you spoke, running your hands along the skin of his quads. “You never have time to let me feel them against me. How sculpted the muscles are, how strong they feel…”

With that, you shuffled your body so that you were straddling his left thigh, your own heat ghosting against the skin of it. You began to press your core down against him, putting pressure against your clit. Looking up, you locked eyes with him. “Do you feel what they do to me?” you asked, beginning to move your hips just slightly, just so, so that he could feel your wetness slipping against him. “How wet it makes me just thinking about touching you?”

Copia groaned against the fabric of the panties in his mouth. It was muffled but audible, which made you realize just how loud it would be without the gag.

“And yet…you deny me? All for your work?” Your voice took on a tone of inquisitive mock innocence and hurt, and you creased your eyebrows for effect. Forgetting about the restraints, Copia moved his arms to grab onto you, but groaned again as he realized he was secured into place.

“What was the saying? ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?’” At this, you reached down and grabbed onto his erection, trapping it between your leg and his as you ground down on the top of his thigh, pussy pushing down much more forcefully. You let out a moan and tilted your head back at the feeling. He was nearly shaking beneath you.

Your hips found a slow yet strong rhythm as you gyrated against him. With every forward movement, your leg squeezed against his cock and he let out a series of noises — muffled whimpers and moans — and eventually, his eyelids tightly pressed shut.

“Is…is pastoral care one of your duties, Papa?” You breathed out, your own voice becoming more lust-dipped as you moved against him. “When you’re taking care of your flock…all of your flock…does that include their desires?” You reached up and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “Aren’t I not part of your flock, Papa?”

He nodded in your hand, eyes nearly ablaze as he all but came undone beneath you. He was so hard it was almost painful, and as you moved above him, riding his thigh like a fucking mechanical bull, your own visage was morphed into one of powerful pleasure. Your tempo increased and you let out a shaky moan at the pressure building low in your abdomen. You were close to feeling the release you’d craved from him for god knows how long. This, along with his own impending orgasm, caused him to spit out the panties from his mouth.

“Dolcezza, please, do not tease me like this,” he whined, words dripping with need. His papal paints were smeared around the mouth and chin from your touch and you bit your lip at the sight. He pulled on the wrist restraints. “Need you,” he choked out. You smirked and immediately ceased your motions against him. His face fell.

“Let’s see if you can use your mouth for something more useful.”

You moved from his thigh, leaving his cock unattended as it dripped for you, hungry and red, nearly pulsating. Suddenly, you stood up and straddled him, bringing your core directly to his face. His increased breath danced across the slick of your pussy and you held back a groan of your own. “If your duties lie only to the church, then maybe you should prove your devotion to honoring the one below.”

Without warning, you slid your hand into his hair and brought his mouth to your wet heat. A strangled groan erupted from him and he immediately dove in, nose against your mound as he fervently moved his tongue between your impossibly slick folds. You reached out with the hand not currently lost within his hair and gripped onto the top of the headboard to steady yourself.

Copia flattened out his tongue and you began to buck your hips against his face, riding him as he broadly licked up and down your clit and to your entrance. You were certain you were making some sort of pleasurable sound, but at the moment, it was as if the world and all of its stimulation paused. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of his skillful mouth against you, his eyes shut as he ate you out like a starved man.

His tongue moved to flick against your sensitive bud and he wrapped his lips around it before sucking harshly. It was a move that he knew drove you crazy, and the burning in your thighs as you tried to stabilize yourself heightened the pressure. You could feel your own legs shaking, but you continued to grind against him, and for the first time, you wished his hands weren’t restrained so that he could fuck you with his fingers, too.

“You are so good at this,” you hummed out, looking down to watch him as you rode his face. The previous tension from your near orgasm on his thigh was back, and your own reserve was faltering. He flickered his eyes open and growled against your cunt at the sight of you above him, trembling and absolutely wrecked from arousal, and the combination of the vibration of his noises and intensity of his stare sent you reeling over the edge.

You cried out his name, head snapped back as your hand gripping onto the headboard turned white-knuckled. He continued to move his tongue up and down your folds, occasionally flicking his tongue against your oversensitive clit as he helped you through your orgasm.

Eventually, you pulled away sea-legged and released your grasp from his now messed coif, sinking down onto your knees. Your own breath was ragged and you gripped onto his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. He looked directly ahead at you with a prurient expression, the paint of his cheeks and nose and chin smeared and saturated with your arousal. In a normal situation, he’d make a racy or teasing remark, but he remained silent. It was as if he had finally learned his place.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you placed a solitary kiss to his sternum, relishing in the feeling of his chest hair against your lips and chin. You then moved south, mouth lightly kissing and sucking on the skin of his abdomen, the angular hip bones that framed his cock, and the trail of hair right below his belly button.

His neglected length twitched as your face brushed against it and you smirked, sitting up just barely to look at it. Reaching out, you grasped onto him, grip firm, and began to languidly stroke.

“How could I forget about you?” you cooed, thumb pad pressing against his frenulum before you continued your pace. “You deserve to feel good.” He groaned at the contact and his head jerked back against the solid headboard. You chuckled darkly and licked your lips at the sight of him below you. “The lightbringer would be disappointed if their chosen figurehead didn’t properly spoil in self-indulgent sins of the flesh? Wouldn’t he?”

Copia whined beneath you, but you paid no mind, continuing your slow movements. You lowered your head, breath tickling against the end of him, and began to rub his shaft and tip against your cheeks and lips. “I love your dick,” you said, voice barely above a sultry whisper. You began to press kisses to every inch of his cock, savoring him, worshiping him.

He squirmed beneath you, and unable to restrain himself, he groaned out, “Cazzo, please.”

You stopped and peered up at him. His eyes were shining with tears of frustration and you were sure that the mix of submission and denial was pushing him to his limits. But despite the look of exasperation on his face, you knew him well enough to know what he truly desired in this moment. And he trusted you completely, fully, to deliver him to reverie.

“Let me take care of you,” you said, pressing a kiss to the very tip of him before laving your tongue over him slowly. Copia moaned loudly and his hips twitched up into your mouth, requiring you to hold him down with your other hand. “You don’t need to control everything,” you responded, mouth still pressed against his length.

Had you been looking up, you’d have seen him nod in response, but you were too focused on what was throbbing in front of you to pay him any mind. Lips parted, you descended down his length, taking him as far into your mouth as you possibly could. Copia hissed in response and you smirked around him. You knew that the sudden sensation of warmth would be nearly unbearable, too much, and you delighted in being the one controlling his fire.

You hollowed out your cheeks and slowly popped off of him. With a swift readjustment of your frame, you straddled his thighs (marveling at the drying slick on the left one), and took his chin in hand. “Look at me,” you murmured, and he obliged. Your non-dominant hand traced the contour of his jaw, fingertips now glazed in white and grey paint, and you dipped your index finger between his lips as you positioned yourself over his cock and sunk down.

The Satanic Pope’s mouth dipped open and a low groan slipped past your finger still perched on his lip. Your own center was still sensitive from your recent orgasm and the sensation of fullness was almost overwhelming, so you stilled your movement to allow for the both of you to adjust to the feeling. For the first time, you dipped your head forward and rested your forehead against his own, your hand cupping his jaw. You could feel the sweat slicked between the both of you and you closed your eyes as a soft, shaky breath escaped you.

After a moment of blissful stillness, you opened your eyes to look at the man you currently had caged in by your arms and thighs, and you carded your fingers through his hair. His gaze held a knowing fire that you recognized as one of silent permission, of need, desire, of his own restrained dominance. With that, you gripped at his hair near the scalp and tipped his head back as you lifted yourself almost completely off of his length.

“Out there, you might be the leader of our congregation. You might proselytize to millions of siblings and fans. But right here,” your grip tightened, and you leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear, “right now, you answer to me. How badly do you want it?”

“Merda, badly, so badly,” he growled. You pulled away and your telltale smirk returned to your features. He looked positively sinister. His face flushed beneath his skull paint and sweat was beading across his brow. Both of his eyes nearly black from lust-blown pupils. A manifestation of evil incarnate.

“Then take it. Take everything you need.”

And take he did. His hips canted up into you and he slid in to the hilt, flesh pressed against flesh, and you fell forward into his shoulder with a near-howl of your own at the fullness. Your hands found purchase against his pecs and you matched his movements as he pumped into you frantically. Every movement stretched you further, licked flames against the sore muscles of your legs, but you ignored the pain and moved with purpose. Your lips found his and you kissed him for the first time this evening, pouring out your loyalty into the action as his tongue pushed greedily into your mouth.

As you shifted your position atop him just slightly, his cock brushed against your g-spot and you cried out in euphoria. The corners of his lips curled against yours as he panted through his movements, knowingly hitting that spot with every single upward thrust.

You swallowed back another moan as you tried to speak. “Fill me so good,” you nearly slurred as you pulled from the kiss. “Look at me,” you said, voice less commanding and more sweet. You knew your release was imminent and you wanted him to visualize the effect he had on you. How he made your body implode as he dragged you down to hell himself.

Your own words were rushed, nearly babbled as you continued. “Look at how good you make me feel.” His eyes locked with yours and you rested one hand on his chest, the other snaking to grasp onto the nape of his neck, while moonbeams erupted in your skin as your climax took hold. Your jaw dropped just slightly and although your mouth threatened a moan, no sound came out as he fervently bucked up into you.

Your shared motions sped up and you could feel how close he was by the sloppiness of his thrusts as he helped you ride out your release. “Take what you need,” you repeated in a pant. “Take everything you need from me.”

You pushed through the overstimulation and watched as his hands balled into fists in the restraints and he planted his feet firmly onto the bed, fucking up into you like he never had before. His eyes shone with unsprung tears and he was spitting out a slew of curses in Italian, with affirmations of love peppered in throughout.

“Cazzo, dolcezza, I-” And just as hard as he had climbed, he crashed down violently. He came roughly with a sound that sounded like a mix between a groan and a sob, hips jerking as he pumped his spend into you with wild abandon. He filled you so deeply that you could feel him beginning to leak down your inner thigh as he pistoned through his orgasm.

“So good for me,” you purred, pressing a kiss to the place where his hairline began at the top of his forehead, ignoring the sweat-soaked strands that fell into his tear-filled eyes. As you pulled away, you saw one of those tears fall and you quickly swiped it with your thumb. And with that, it was as if the dam had been broken, and both eyes began spilling rushed streams down his cheeks.

You moved to quickly untie his wrists from the headboard and as soon as he was set free, his arms wrapped around your middle and his head fell to your chest. “So good for me,” you repeated, more of a coo this time, and you pressed another kiss to the top of his head as your hands lovingly traced up and down his back.

You sat like that for a while, holding him as he softened inside of you, his tears and quiet sobs the backdrop of your denouement. He almost surprised you when he lifted his head to properly look at you.

“Mi dispiace, tesoro. I don’t know…I’m not sure where this is coming from,” he admitted, thumbs rubbing against the curve of your spine.

You smiled softly, reassuringly, and brought one of his wrists to your mouth. A red mark had formed from the friction of the cravat, and you kissed at it soothingly. “You have needs too, Papa,” you said as you continued to kiss at the sensitive skin. He hummed in response and you smiled again, this time a little wider.

“Thank you for letting me love you.”

And in his eyes, you saw a dawning realization, a comfort of sorts that came to flood his mind. He had known this had been an exercise of shared power, of course, of allowing you to express your needs in a way that the both of you enjoyed, even though you hadn’t previously explored the swap in control. However, as you took the reins, you’d gifted him with something he hadn’t anticipated — you’d guided him to liberation, encouraging him to release his expectations (the ones he’d built up of himself and the ministry) and just be.

Your permission for simple existence was the best thing he hadn’t known to ask for.

image/gif credit: imgur

#ghost band #ghost bc #copia #papa emeritus iv #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #copia x reader #popia x reader #papa iv x reader #sub copia #dom/sub relationship #ghost fanfic

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aziraphales-library · 6 months

Note

Hello! I really love The Sometimes Wife and occasionally find other Regency Era fics to enjoy. Do you have any recommendations, particularly for human AUs?

Hi! We have a healthy #regency tag, so do check that out. Here are some more to add to the collection...

Entailed by FeralTuxedo (E)

Anthony Crowley, a single gentleman of seven-and-forty and guardian to two unmarried sisters, is awaiting the arrival of the young clergyman who is set to inherit his estate. A marriage between him and one of the Miss Crowleys would be advantageous for both. But Mr Fell has other plans.

Remain Forever Yours by TawnyOwl95 (E)

Seven years ago Aziraphale Device was persuaded out of accompanying his dearest friend to Egypt. Now a famous explorer, Anthony Crowley is back in London and looking for a wife. Aziraphale is determined to be happy for him, despite his own breaking heart.

More Than by NaroMoreau (E)

Crowley would like to spend another year without marrying, especially when thrust-forced to pick a husband. She refuses to cave in on a matter of principles. She refuses to cave in specifically on a matter of not wanting to be married to Lucien Morningstar. But she might need a hand to break free from such a burden. And who knows? She might even find something else along the way.

Waltzing Vaguely Downwards by WorseOmens (NR)

Lord Crowley was not looking for a potential wife, when he arrived at this party. That doesn’t mean he won’t find one. Part one of the Good Omens Regency AU: The Serpent & The Flaming Sword series

Morningstar Abbey by Andromeda4004 (T)

No one who had ever seen Aziraphale Fell in his youth would have supposed him born to be a hero. His situation in life, the character of his father and mother, his own person and disposition, were all equally against him. But when a gentleman is to be a hero, the attractions of a comfortable, quiet home cannot prevent him. Something must and will happen to throw his destiny in his way. One should never forget that between a hero and his destiny, one will always find a villain. Trusting parish rector Aziraphale attempts to navigate Regency Bath, the marriage market, and the complexities of his own heart in this take on Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, written for the Ineffably Austen event, March 2023.

Sunday's Child by ladydragona, SylWritesStuff (E)

For a few years of their childhood, Aziraphale Eastgate and Anthony Crowley are inseparable until tragedies begin to strike the Eastgate family. After fifteen years, Aziraphale's become a servant to his own family and Crowley's about to inherit his father's fortune. The only thing that stands in Crowley's way is his Uncle Lucian's tight hold on finances until Crowley marries or comes of age. And the marriage his uncle has in mind for him is out of the question. Thankfully, a chance encounter puts these former friends within range of one another again. And Aziraphale, who's never managed to fall out of love with his former best friend, can't refuse a proposal which offers so much promise. It might hurt, but it might just be glorious too.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #adult omens #regency #mod d #human au

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ghoul-slime · 8 months

Text

Confectionery

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,087

Pairing: Aether/Dew/Swiss

Tags: threesome, ghouls in heat, armpit fetish, sweaty ghouls, fingering, implied dp, squirting, little bit of foot licking, poly ghouls

Summary:

When Dew goes into heat, it draws every ghoul in the abbey out. The sweet, heady scent of the small fire ghoul’s arousal calls to them, drives them tense and hungry, sniffing around the band ghoul quarters in hopes of getting their claws into his desperate, willing flesh.

When Dew goes into heat, he’s greedy. He wants whoever he can get, however he can get them, as many times as they’ll give it to him. But as much as all the other ghouls want a taste of him, and as happy as Dew is to give it to them, they almost never get there in time.

When Dew goes into heat, Aether and Swiss are always the first to claim him.

or read on tumblr here:

When Dew goes into heat, Aether and Swiss are always the first to claim him.

Already high off the smell of him, the two ghouls stalk down the hall towards Dew’s room. In a moment’s time they’re mindlessly hungry, moving forward on instinct and with one purpose. Salivating and ravenous for it. Claws flexing and sharp, white fangs glistening with drool, they converge at Dew’s door to claim their prize.

Inside they find Dew laid out on the bed completely bare and waiting for whoever finds him first. He plays with himself while he waits, patience growing thinner by the minute, a sheen of sweat glistening across every inch of his heated skin.

Dew’s scent hits them like a wall, thick and cloying, smelling of sweet cinnamon sugar with a hint of smoky ash. All under ridden by the unmistakable smell of sweat and slick. Of sex.

Dew’s eyes are clouded and unfocused as he ruts his hips up into the air, spreads his thighs in invitation to the two hungry ghouls hastily tearing at their own clothing and stalking up to his bedside.They descend at the same time, sinking to the bed and flanking Dew, who arches his back off the sheets with a whine, writhing with need at the feel of the two bigger ghouls pressing themselves against him.

Swiss and Aether are all over him in an instant. Big, strong hands feeling their way across the warm expanse of Dew’s flushed skin. Soft flesh, pink and plush, warm with want. So sensitive and inviting.

Aether skims his hands up Dew’s torso, across his flat little chest, smoothing wide palms and calloused fingertips across his nipples, sensitive and rosy, stiff little peaks threaded through with shiny silver rings. He brings one hand up to Dew’s neck, curling his fingers around his throat, not pressing or squeezing but feeling. Feeling his steady, beating pulse thudding with anticipation. Feeling the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly. Aether presses his nose into Dew’s temple and inhales, groaning at the changing scent of him, Dew’s arousal kicking up into high gear, growing sweeter and more intoxicating by the second.

Swiss trails his hands down Dew’s belly, spreading thick fingers to grasp at bony little hips, pinning his writhing frame to the sheets, pressing bruises into fair skin, sharp nails leaving angry, red indents into supple flesh. Across from Aether, he inhales too, growling deep in his chest at the smell of Dew’s heat. He presses his face into Dew’s temple, nosing along his hairline as he breathes him in deep enough to taste the arousal on his tongue.

Dew tips his head back, giving the two larger ghouls more access to the expanse of his throat. Swiss licks a long, wet stripe up the side of Dew’s neck, pausing to suck a bruise into the skin, drawing a needy whine from his lips. Aether noses his way down the side of Dew’s face, breathing heavily until he’s sucking the lobe of Dew’s ear into his mouth, licking wet and messy around the shell of his ear, chasing the scent and taste of him.

Pressed between the two larger ghouls, Dew can feel his body heating up. The more Aether and Swiss grind against him, suck and lick at his flesh, paw at his body with greedy hands, the more Dew’s body responds to the attention. Scent kicking up high as he sweats, as beads of pre bubble up from the wet slit of his hard little cock, as slick starts to dribble from between his cheeks. The smell of him, desperate for cock, body begging to be fucked and filled, to be claimed, drives Swiss and Aether out of their minds.

Dew smells so fucking good it’s all they can do to chase down the source of that intoxicating scent. They roam his body with their mouths, panting and snuffing across Dew’s skin. Swiss presses his face to the crown of Dew’s head, burying his nose into fine, silky blond hair. Aether moves south, planting a trail of wet kisses and licks across his body as he crawls down between Dew’s legs, burying his nose into the thatch of soft blond hair above the base of his cock.

Swiss follows not long after, licking and nipping at Dew’s chest, then his thigh, and down his calf until he stops where Aether has his legs held up and spread apart. He licks a wet stripe up the flat of Dew’s raised foot, reveling in the sound the little ghoul makes. At how he throws his head back and cries out at the sensation, toes curling and calf muscles flexing at the tickle of Swiss’ tongue pressed against the sole of his foot.

But Swiss and Aether are greedy too, and they want more. They push and pull Dew between them, pinning his arms above his head in a mirror image of each other. Aether dips his head, pressing his nose into Dew’s exposed armpit and inhales, eyes rolling back and groaning at how good, how sweet, how concentrated Dew’s arousal is from this angle.

Swiss follows suit, nosing into Dew’s other armpit, pressing his nose into heated skin lightly damp with sweat. It smells so good. Like Dew amped up to a thousand. It’s syrupy-sweet and rich, but there’s more to it. Swiss inhales, breathes it in through his nose and out through his mouth, tasting the depth of Dew’s scent. He finds warm cinnamon and smoky campfire, and beneath that, hints of toasted sugar and honey. It’s Dew, and the smell of it goes straight to his cock. He inhales again, but this time he’s driven by the need to taste.

Swiss presses his face into Dew’s armpit, ravenous for it, dragging the flat of his tongue up the expanse of it, drawing a sharp cry from Dew. He licks again, tracing his tongue through the fine hair at the concave of Dew’s pit, tasting the sweet scent of Dew’s heat and a tantalizing hint of sweat. He presses nose into the skin and laps at him, reveling in the way Dew squirms, at how he humps his hips into the air as Swiss works him up with his tongue.

Aether licks at him in a mirror image of Swiss, one big hand wrapped around a delicate wrist, holding Dew’s arm above his head and against the pillows. The more he licks the sweeter he tastes, the higher pitched and more desperate his breathy little cries become. The more Dew wriggles and writhes, flexes the muscles of his stomach, spreads his thighs and curls his toes.

Dew could cum like this, with Swiss and Aether licking into him this way, holding him open and exposed, wet, greedy tongues probing and tasting him in a way more intimate than if they were licking him out between his quivering thighs. His cock kicks out a blurb of pre and he feels another wave of slick dribble out between his cheeks, pooling wet and cool beneath his ass on the sheets.

He whines for it, begging wordlessly for more. His heat is driving his need to be filled up and taken apart. He groans again, long and drawn out. It echoes off the walls of his bedroom, demanding and impatient. It momentarily gets the attention of Swiss and Aether, who pull away long enough to lock eyes with each other over the heaving expanse of Dew’s skinny little chest.

Together they trail their hands down Dew’s belly.

Swiss stops to curl a hand around Dew’s straining cock while Aether slips his middle finger between Dew’s cheeks, gathering slick and pushing inside with ease. Dew arches off the bed, and Swiss and Aether turn their attention back to the task at hand. Licking at every inch of exposed flesh they can get their mouths on. Nipping at Dew’s chest, laving at his pierced nipples, snuffing their noses into his armpits, sucking bruises into his neck.

Aether ruts his cock into Dew’s side as he fingers him. Dew is so wet between his legs that his slick flows past Aether’s finger, pooling in his palm and dribbling down to the bedsheets. Dew keens as Aether pushes back in deep and wiggles his finger, wet sounds filling the room as Aether pets the deepest parts of him from the inside.

Swiss relinquishes his grip on Dew’s cock to join Aether between his legs. Trailing the tip one finger around Dew’s rim, stretched around where Aether is buried inside him. Feeling the pool of slick and the way Dew’s puffy little hole winks and flutters around Aether’s finger. He bites down on one of Dew’s nipples as he breaches him with the tip of his finger, sliding in alongside Aether already working in and out of him. Dew howls with pleasure, arching his back and curling his toes, doing his best to grind his hips down onto the two fingers stretching him open. His cock kicks out another blurb of precum onto his stomach as Swiss pushes inside to the last knuckle, until he and Aether are sunk into him as far as they can go.

Swiss catches sight of Aether across from him, eyes squeezed shut, red faced and sweating, drooling into the crevice of Dew’s armpit as he grinds his hips against his writhing body. Swiss groans at the sight and pulls back out, feeling the wet slip of his finger alongside Aether’s before he’s pushing it back in, sliding in and out, back and forth, in tandem with Aether’s rapid pace.

Inside, Dew is wet, hot, and tight. Slick walls spasming and clenching against the intrusion of the two larger ghoul’s thick fingers inside him. Dew relishes in the feeling of being pressed between them, of being spread open and stretched, pulled and prodded at, at the feeling of sharp fangs and wet mouths across the expanse of his skin. The way they both hump and rut against him, the heat of them driving his own body temperature up even higher. The sensations are almost too much, but his lust-addled brain still screams out for more, desperate to be claimed by the two ghouls working his body.

Aether and Swiss push in at the same time and Dew cums with a shout, eyes rolling back and body spasming. His vision goes fuzzy around the edges as he cums hard, painting his belly with ropes of white and squirting out a stream of slick as his muscles clamp down around the fingers still inside him.

Dew heaves in lungfuls of air, vision clearing as he feels Swiss and Aether draw out of him, leaving his hole empty and dripping. He groans at the loss, sweaty and panting between the two larger ghouls still flanking him. His orgasm took the edge off, but he’s still hot and aching to be fucked, the smell and feel of the two larger ghouls driving his heat into full force.

He wants more than just their fingers filling him up.

He whines for it until he feels his body being lifted off the soaked sheets, until he’s being pushed and pulled and lifted as Swiss and Aether rearrange themselves on the bed, facing each other and sandwiching Dew’s spent, sweaty body between them. Dew’s head lolls back against Swiss’ shoulder as they push themselves together, as Aether grasps his own cock together with Swiss’ in one big fist. Aether pants into his ear and Swiss mouths at his neck, tonguing at his pulsepoint and worrying the skin with his fangs while they rearrange his legs and spread his ass. Together he and Aether ease him down until he’s hovering just above them, feeling the wet, sticky heads of their cocks kissing his rim.

When they start to push up inside him, Dew throws his head back and wails.

#aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #aether/dew #swiss/dew #aether/dew/swiss #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfiction #nameless ghouls #ghoul-slime fic #swiss x dewdrop #aether x dewdrop #this fic probably appeals to one person only (me)

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gravehags · 5 months

Text

give me mercy no more

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader x Cumulus

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: masturbation, voyeurism, panty sniffing, breaking and entering, pussy eating, dick riding, this is starting to read like a rap sheet, unexpected romance, threesome, antichrist reference

Words: 3,790

Summary: He should know better than to pine so desperately after what is not his, but the way you look at him makes it so hard. So he takes action in the only way he knows how.

a/n: being in a throuple with cumulus and cardinal copia would save me, clear my skin, and give me a reason to live. hallelujah. also reference to copia being the antichrist.

divider by the lovely @ghuleh-recs!

This is Cardinal Copia’s little secret.

He adores you. He’s long admired you, would see you standing in the crowds at his rituals gazing up at him…and also at one of his keyboardists. Cumulus’ new girlfriend that the ghoulette excitedly introduced to him, unaware of his long-standing infatuation. It was fine, he told himself, he was happy for his beloved ghoulette. Seeing her smile made him smile. But the more he watched you two in the dining hall, caught glimpses of the two of you kissing in secluded little areas of the abbey, the more he needed…well, more.

He cannot believe his luck after charming the keys to your quarters off a maintenance worker and sneaking in while you are at Nihil’s mass and while he is supposed to be in a meeting with Cardinals von Schreck and Bergoglio. No matter, he is head of the Ghost project now, he can do as he pleases. Your room is sizable - not a surprise considering your position as a more senior sister - but even he doesn’t have a closet as spacious as yours. One that would make a perfect little spot for him to kneel and watch you both. He tucks the idea away and focuses - you could come back at any time. It takes a moment of fussing to access the hamper in your absurdly large closet but when he looks down at its contents he smiles wide. Perfetto. Right on top is a mesh thong in cardinal red - almost as if you put it there just for him. His gloved hand is trembling as he reaches down and gently picks it up. With some hesitation, as if the garment is going to burst into flame, he raises the gusset to his nose and inhales deep. The forbidden smell of you floods his brain and he collapses against the doorframe. Frantically he lifts his cassock and fumbles for his button and zipper and by the time he takes himself out he’s already hard and drooling. His body sags against the wood as he smears the pre with his thumb then spits in his hand.

“Cara mia,” he moans the moment leather meets flesh. His eyes slip shut and his jaw hangs open as he bunches your underwear under his nose with one hand and strokes his cock with the other. He thinks of the generous curve of your hip in those tight black pencil skirts you favor, the way the fabric clings to your belly. Those days when he’d be lucky enough to catch you in the library bending over to pick up a stack of books and he’d have to hurry off to his office to address the tent in his trousers he desperately tried to hide with the drape of his cassock. How you looked in that chilly little alcove the other day pressed up against his ghoulette, her tail wrapped around your thigh as you traced her lips with your tongue. Cumulus almost caught him that time but he darted behind a statue of the Whore of Babylon, quick as one of his rats. There’s a thrill in his heart in that moment however, the fear only further igniting his passions. There’s a sound outside from the hallway, a sibling’s laughter, that causes him to jump and remember where he is. His cock twitches in his firm grip and his mouth is open, drool pooling in his jaw as he looks down and squeezes, imagining it’s your cunt instead. He won’t last long, not with the sweet smell of you driving his fist forward and back at a punishing pace as he moans into the fabric. His eyes dart over to your bed and he imagines you and Cumulus, tangled together kissing lazily, your hands brushing over each other’s curves. What sweet noises his ghoulette could tease out of you with her talented fingers. He’s panting like a dog now, your smell all but overwhelming him and his hips spasm once, twice and he’s cumming in desperate spurts. His spine feels like it’s made out of jell-o as he finally lowers your underwear from his face. Stars bloom behind his eyelids and idly he remembers he’s still fisting his cock. He opens his eyes and sighs at the mess on his glove…and on your closet floor.

“Ah, shit,” he hisses, briefly dropping your most sacred underwear so he can rummage in the hamper for a shirt or a towel or something. When he finds a slightly damp hand towel he’s filled with relief, wiping off his fingers first before tucking himself away and lowering his cassock. As for the floor…eh, it’s wood and you shouldn’t notice once he scrubbed his mess away. In his haste to hide the towel, he almost leaves behind his treasure crumpled on the floor. As he reaches out for it he hesitates for a moment, but the insistent little devil on his shoulder is cooing so sweetly in his ear in your voice. She won’t miss it. She would want you to have it. He’s never been one to say no to the Devil. And if he finds himself fingering the fabric stuffed in his pocket during his delayed meeting…well he certainly will not confess. His prize lasts for a week before the smell of you fades and he’s more than made a mess of the garment after hastily wrapping it around his cock one night while pleasuring himself. It now sits in his hamper - he’ll return it to you after getting it thoroughly cleaned. He briefly considers stealing another pair the next time he’s in your quarters but then he remembers how spacious and cozy your closet was. A perfect little spot to hide.

And watch.

It’s bolder than anything he’s done before but that only makes him more aroused by it. He knows you spend Friday nights with Cumulus in your room and his blood sings at the prospect of witnessing what the two of you get up to when you think you’re alone. He plans his day perfectly - manages to get to your quarters and smuggle himself away in the dark behind your habits, the door open just enough for a generous view of your bed. He’s not wearing his cassock tonight - just his simple black suit - so he has less fabric to fuss around and can get straight to business. When he hears your lock make a click and the door squeaks open, he’s momentarily flooded with fear. What if you opened the closet door and saw him, the de facto leader of the Ministry, crouched on his knees with his cock out? His fist flies to his mouth as he bites down on a moan at the thought, his dick twitching in his pants. He peers out into the room and wonders if either of you heard him, but the two of you are quite preoccupied. He doesn’t know how Cumulus has disrobed you this fast as you work the buttons of her shirt and ease her suspenders off her shoulders. With a playful shove she pushes you onto the bed where you bounce, grinning up at her.

“Bossy tonight, babe,” you coo, scooting your body up the mattress as Cumulus removes her pants and underwear. With a snort she slingshots her bra at your head and you skillfully dodge it with a laugh. His heart aches as he watches the two of you, so carefree and intimate, and for a moment jealousy and sadness flood his veins. The feeling is mercifully brief as he watches you beam at the ghoulette settling between your legs. The two of you are so…so…lovely. His mustache twitches as his lips curl into a smile watching you wind one of Cumulus’ white curls around your finger. Idly the ghoulette leans down and places a gentle series of kisses to your belly before sliding her body lower. When he finally gets a view of the treasure between your spread legs his breath comes out in a shudder. You’re already so wet, your curls glistening as your lover teasingly blows her cool breath over you. Your eyes slide shut and your head tilts back to expose your throat as she lowers her mouth to where her thumbs spread you open and hovers.

“‘Lus if you don’t–”

“If I don't, what?” she asks airily, placing a cheeky kiss to your mound. She looks up at you and must mouth something that he can’t see or hear because you let out a giggle and tug on your lower lip with your teeth.

“Understood,” you sigh and Cumulus arches her back, giving him a delightful view of her own dripping cunt.

“Good girl,” she purrs before diving in. He’s so caught up in the moment he realizes he hasn’t even freed his cock from his trousers, and the head is leaking profusely against the fabric. Hastily he pulls himself out and sighs as the blessedly cool air hits his heated flesh. Once in hand he turns his attention back to the two of you and…oh.

Cumulus’ tongue lazily circles your clit as she moans into you. Your head is thrown back, chest flushed as you fist her curls.

“Mmmfuck ‘Lus, yeah right there.”

The whine in your voice makes Copia bump his head on the doorframe in his eagerness to get a better view from his hiding spot. The two of you are all soft, undulating skin as she loudly laps at your cunt, her finger teasing at your entrance. The sheer decadence of the image before him makes his breath come in pants as he once again runs a hand over his throbbing cock. When Cumulus slowly, achingly slowly slides her finger inside you your moan is borderline pornographic.

“Just like that, baby. One more.”

Obligingly she slides another digit inside you and grins.

“You take me so well, don’t you? Doesn’t she, Cardinal?”

It takes him a second before he drops his dick in shock, it comically bobbing in front of him as his face is flooded with red. He takes a couple deep breaths before once again peering out into your bedroom to see you looking right into his white eye, your head cocked and a teasing smile on your face. Cumulus is propped up on an elbow, also watching him, looking amused.

“Are you going to come out, your Eminence, or shall we drag you out by your ear?”

Something about the way your lips wrap around his hardly used formal title as you gently humiliate him sets him on fire. Fuck it, he thinks as he stands, not even bothering to tuck himself away before opening the closet door and stepping out. Your eyes widen and eyebrows shoot up when you behold him with his hands perched on his hips. Cumulus lets out a low wolf whistle and his stance falters slightly.

“I don’t quite know what to say, Cardinal,” you breathe, reaching down to idly scratch behind Cumulus’ horn. “Other than are you going to put that to use or not?”

“What?” he asks flatly, anticipating a shaming or degradation, hell even being chased out by a feral ghoulette. Said feral ghoulette instead smiles wide at him and gestures to you.

“She asked you a question, Cardinal. Are you,” she rises from her reclined position as she speaks, slowly stepping over to him, “going to stuff my girl full of your pretty, fat cock or are you going to leave her wanting? I don’t recommend it. She’s very vindictive.”

His eyes dart over to you where you coyly grin at him and flutter your eyelashes.

“I…eh…I don’t…”

“You’re going to say no?” you pout exaggeratedly, “After I’ve spent all this time wanting you?”

He can almost hear a record scratch.

“Wanting me?” he hoarsely half-shouts, which makes Cumulus snort loudly. “But you…you and Cumulus…”

“Mmhmm, me and Cumulus,” you nod encouragingly, “and I think there’s room for one more. Wouldn’t you agree, love?”

His ghoulette runs a claw down his arm and he shivers.

“I think I can manage to share,” she grins, “with my Cardinal. After all, he works so hard. And I know you’ve seen the way she watches you during rituals. How could I deny her this?”

“I’m only disappointed he didn’t wear the white suit tonight,” you say mischievously, propping yourself up on an elbow with a wink. “But there’s always next time.”

“Darling, he hasn’t even agreed to this time,” Cumulus chuckles. He looks at her and at you, on the bed. The two of you deliciously bare and you, so eager for him. His head spins and he wonders if too much blood rushing to his cock would knock him out.

“Belle donne,” he finally says, with a little bow, “I am at your service.”

Copia didn’t know where this night was going to end an hour ago but he certainly hadn’t imagined it like this. Cumulus is on him in an instant, much to your glee, stripping him of his clothing. In a flash he’s nude, save for his gloves, and Cumulus kneels before him taking his hand in hers. She looks up at him knowingly before he exhales and gives her a tight nod. Gently she slides the leather off each hand and when she sees the inflamed flesh at the centers of his palms she bows her head in deference before kissing them. You’re on your knees on the bed, watching curiously but you don’t inquire further - just nod your head at him - and he is thankful.

“Come here, beloved,” you say, outstretching your arms and with Cumulus by his side, he reaches the bed. Just as tenderly as his ghoulette had treated him, you reach up and brush back a piece of errant hair, your thumbs gliding along his cheekbones.

“Huh. I never knew you had so many freckles,” you say with a soft smile, “Cute.”

When your small hand drifts downwards to card through his chest hair you smile even wider at the tattoo on his pectoral.

“Aren’t you full of surprises? A tattoo, a peeping tom…oh and I would like that pair of underwear back, by the way. It is my favorite, after all.”

He has to force himself not to choke in humiliation but in an instant your hand has drifted lower. He’s only half-hard now but the way your fingertips brush against his shaft makes his head fall forward. Slowly, you stroke him to full hardness as he pants into your ear.

“Nice and ready for me, Cardinal,” you murmur, swiping a thumb over the head of him, making his hips buck. He hears Cumulus make a soft noise of appreciation from behind him and he turns his head slightly to see her splayed out in the overstuffed chair in the corner.

“Don’t worry about me,” she smiles as her fingers dance between the curls at the juncture of her thighs, “Focus on her.”

When he turns his gaze back to you, you lean in and nose along his jaw.

“How do you want me?” you whisper, placing a sweet little kiss to his neck. The question makes him throb and he thinks of all the times he’s watched you during mass, during your duties, and the myriad of ways he’s imagined having you.

“Ride me, cara,” he breathes, “I-I want you to ride me.”

He can feel your grin against his throat as you shift to the side and pull him down to the mattress. Cumulus is up in an instant and walks over to the two of you to settle in on the bed with her back against the headboard and her legs spread. She crooks her finger at Copia and he crawls to her before settling in with his head on her belly, breasts tantalizingly close. When she brings her hands to his shoulders, rubbing at the tense muscle, he sighs.

“Good boy, Cardinal,” Cumulus purrs, making his cock twitch. She looks up at you, still perched at the bottom of the bed.

“Come on, honey. Come show us how pretty you’ll look riding his cock.”

You beam at the two of them before shuffling onto your knees and maneuvering your legs to straddle him. When your cunt, still soaked from your earlier activities with Cumulus, brushes the underside of his dick a shiver runs through him.

“Perfezione,” he murmurs, gazing at you adoringly as you slide yourself back and forth against him.

“Mmm and you haven’t even been inside her yet,” Cumulus says, running a clawed hand through his silver streaked hair. When you raise yourself and wrap your fingers around his cock to position him at your entrance, he holds his breath. You look to Cumulus and then to him before slowly - achingly, tortuously slowly - impaling yourself on him. He nearly cums on the spot when he hears the sweet little whimper you let out after taking him to the hilt and feeling the way you stretch around him.

“Copia,” you breathe, uttering his name for the first time that evening. It makes him want to weep. Cumulus chuckles behind him but her voice comes out rougher and lower than usual.

“How does he feel, sweetheart?”

Experimentally, you raise yourself halfway off him and slide back down.

“So good, ‘Lus. Filling me up just right.”

She hums in contentment and then places a kiss to the top of his head.

“And you, Cardinal?”

“She’s p-perfect, like I always imagined her to be. Hot a-and wet and–fuck–tight.”

You close your eyes and smile, lifting yourself off him once more and bringing your hips down with much more force this time. He lets out a broken moan as you repeat the action, setting an eager pace for yourself. You feel his eyes lingering on your face, the bounce of your tits, and the way he disappears inside you.

“Touch me,” you whine, “Please, Copia.”

“C-can I?” He knows his voice is desperate as he cocks his ear towards Cumulus, who lets out a laugh.

“Of course you can, she’s yours too, remember?”

She’s yours too…for the second time that night he almost cums on the spot. His hands shake as he tentatively places them on your thighs. He freezes, too hypnotized by the way your skin feels under his fingertips but Cumulus is watching and reaches to place her hands over his.

“We’ll do it together,” she murmurs against his hair as she guides his hands onto the curve of your hip. Your pace slows slightly as you revel in the way your lovers knead the flesh of your ass, smiling down at Copia. He’s mesmerized as Cumulus places his hands onto the curve of your belly so he can feel the soft skin there before sliding them upwards to palm at your breasts. Your head tips back and you keen beautifully as his thumbs circle your nipples. When Cumulus guides him to pinch, he’s worried that it’s too hard but the way your cunt clenches around him and your mouth falls open says otherwise.

“Bellissima,” he rasps out, “again, please.”

The way your smile scrunches your nose makes his heart sing and you appease him before continuing to slide your hips up and down. Your pace begins to get a little less languorous, a little more frantic and he fucks up into you eagerly.

“Copia,” you pant, thighs clearly burning from the effort, “fuck, Copia, s-so good. ‘Lus he feels so good.”

“I know, sweetheart,” the ghoulette purrs from behind him, eyes hungrily watching your coupling. Copia feels Cumulus slip a hand between his body and her own to rub at her clit and it makes him groan.

“Come on, Cardinal, make her really feel it,” she pants as her fingers dip into her slick. When she takes them out and holds them up to his lips he greedily sucks them in, lapping at the taste of her. His hips jackrabbit upwards, making you throw your head back and cry out.

“Don’t stop, Copia, please, please, please, do–ah!”

Your walls spasm around him and his breath comes in broken stutters.

“Cum for her, Cardinal,” Cumulus breathes into his ear, her own hand returning to her clit. “Cum for us both.”

“Cara!” he shouts, hips rutting desperately into yours as he fills you up with rope after rope of his seed. At the same time he hears Cumulus moan low and long into his ear as she efficiently brings herself over the edge.

“So good, Copia,” she pants, “so good for us.”

When you collapse against his chest, trying to catch your breath with his cock still inside you he smiles against your hair. Lifting your head you give him a tired smile before gently, sweetly placing your lips against his in a slow kiss. You pull away only for a moment to lean upwards and slot your mouth against Cumulus’, the two of you giggling as your tongues tangle. When you finally pull away, a string of saliva connects the two of you and he raises his hand to wind a finger in it and bring it to his mouth.

“Ragazze mie,” he whispers, “Belle e meravigliose ragazze.”

“Our Cardinal,” you murmur, placing a soft kiss on his tattoo. With some effort you slide off him and he scoots over so you can join him between Cumulus’ legs.

“So,” you begin conversationally, fingers carding through his chest hair, “is this what you expected when you came here to watch us tonight, you filthy pervert?”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“Eh, truth be told I hadn’t thought further ahead than getting in your closet. How…how long have you both known I…I was…”

“Watching us?” Cumulus supplies, her fingers stroking up and down his arm. “Ages. I knew she wanted you as well the moment I started pursuing her. And, well. I’ve always thought you were handsome, Cardinal. When this opportunity popped up, we couldn’t resist.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree, tilting his chin over to look at you. His lipstick is smudged on your top lip and strands of hair stick to your sweaty forehead. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“The feeling is mutual,” you grin and it dawns on him that he said that statement out loud. “Second only to her.” You give Cumulus a wink and then your eyes travel over her breasts. As he watches you lean upwards and suck along the underside of one before slipping her nipple into your mouth he growls.

“I’m eh. Not quite ready for round two,” he admits after clearing his throat, toying with a strand of your hair.

“Don’t worry, my love,” you smile, “You can watch. You don’t even have to get back in the closet, either.”

#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader x cumulus #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia x female reader x cumulus #cardinal copia #cumulus ghoulette #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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