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kentoxo · 1 month ago

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friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.4

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: i apologize as ill be working through this weekend so the next chapter might take a day or so. thank you for your patience <3

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Friday

It still felt fresh, despite a whole day having passed.

Unlike the day prior, you moved slower than usual. You got not a wink of sleep, and that reflected in the death of your eyes. Sluggish hands prepare your cup of coffee, but you forgot to add sugar so your first sip made you regret everything. Everything was suddenly out of tune, and you were losing your inner rhythm. The worst part: it was reflecting your work.

Nanami noticed when you forgot to email an important document that you specifically got sealed by the board a few days prior.

He also noticed that you forgot almost every meeting you had planned for him today. Luckily you had it synced to the cloud calendar, and Nanami had his alerts on for them.

He finally realized you were off your game when you couldn’t recite the numbers from last year around festive time. Those numbers usually remained right behind your hand at all times.

“Y/N, are you well?” Nanami asked in the video call you both were in. Despite working remotely, Nanami preferred having the two of you on video call at all times unless there were meetings to attend to, or independent work that didn’t require one another's presence. “You don’t seem 100%.”

One again, Nanami was in what looked like a comfortable sweatshirt. His light pink lips were straight, with a dew of coffee hanging from the right side of his bottom lip. His eyes were imbued with exhaustion, but it seems he had a fine rest last night. Those blond locks were now completely dry, and looked like it was styled by just flipping his hair to the side with his fingers. Slightly dented lines define his collarbones, jaw, and cheekbones.

Fuck.

“m’okay,” you lie casually, leaning back into your couch. You, in contrast, have your video off. You made no effort to beat your face with makeup, nor did you even run fingers through your hair to fix it up a bit. Your heart was wounded, and your mind was disinterested in everything. “I didn’t sleep too well, that’s all.”

“Mm,” Nanami hums. His eyes dart towards something, and you hear his click clacks of his keyboard. “Since you let me into your home yesterday, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I’ll pay you for the remaining hours.”

You quickly sit up and put your hands back on the keyboard, “no, that’s not right. It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else if I left early with pay just because I was a little restless last night.”

“You do the work of 5 of your coworkers,” Nanami jokes lightly. “I’m confident nobody will say a thing regarding you taking a bit of time to rest more.”

They were willing to spread true rumors about your crush, though.

“You might need me,” you persist, “I don’t want to risk my absence when something important arises.”

“I’m glad you know your worth, but I insist that you sit this one out and just rest. Consider this a head start on your weekend,” Nanami insists curtly. “Before I let you rest however, I do have something to make you aware of.”

“Yes?” You slouch a bit, but your ears remain sharp and attentive.

“I’ll be returning to my actual office next week, just for the 3 days that we are in-office,” Nanami begins. He stops his typing and weaves his hands together before resting his chin on them. “We have a few important clients coming in, thanks to Haibara’s persistence. So, I’ll need to be back in my office for just a bit. For that time, you will be working more independently.”

“I understand,” you concur. “But, will you not need me during these meetings?”

“Confidentiality,” Nanami reasons, to your dismay. It’s never a big deal, but you always liked to join Nanami’s meetings. Not only to document important points for him, but to remind him to bring things up during these conversations that he might forget to do otherwise. “These clients are a bit… different than what we’re used to. But we need their company’s marketing in order to resume flourishing here.”

“Understood,” you reply.

“For the time being, please refer to Haibara for anything I might need from you. From how it’s looking,” Nanami hums. He brings a hand down to his mouse and starts to share his screen. You watch intently as he opens a calendar of his work schedule for the mentioned Monday-to-Wednesday. “I’ll be booked from morning until punch out. Haibara will be joining me for a good chunk of these meetings, so I’ll be sure to have him give you the download on what I’ll need from you.”

You nod to nobody, “copy. I’ll be sure to continue doing my best.”

“Anything less is impossible from you, Y/N,” Nanami says sweetly. There’s something stale about his flattery now. “Go ahead and rest, Y/N. You deserve it. Thank you for your work today.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” you murmur. An aggressive yawn escapes your lips, and you rub your face a bit to try and waive the exhaustion.

“Nothing to apologize for– I’m the one sending you away,” the hazel-eyed man hums, slightly amused at your mannerisms. “I’ll put your time in right now, so just approve it upon receiving the notification.”

“I will, thank you.” You were itching to end the call and decay in your bed. “Have a fruitful rest of your day, Nanami kacho.”

To your surprise, Nanami held a sudden distasteful expression on his face. You watch as his face softens, but his hazel eyes seem… perplexed. As though you said something wrong, or rather; offensive. He casually tugs at his right ear before clearing his throat through a scratchy cough.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nanami lets out, his voice slightly less monotone. “Rest well.”

With that, you hang up the call, slam your laptop shut, and rush under the covers of your bed. You find solace in the softness of the cotton, and the weight of the quilt itself. You rub your face once more, but this time feeling the burning of over-cried eyes. Your eyes were tissue-abused, as the tears felt endless yesterday after Nanami left. It was scary how upset you were about this.

Fishing your phone from the sea of sheets, you quickly dial Haibara’s number and wait with the phone against your ear. After a few rings, he answers, “Y/N?”

“Hi, Yu,” you say quietly, your head melting into your pillow. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” Haibara begins, “but you sound horrible, what happened now? Did he say something mean again?"

“m just tired,” you say simply. And it was true, you were. But Haibara already knew the reason why, and ensured that he would avoid mentioning it. “Nanami let me clock out early. I wasn’t really myself today.”

“Ah, Y/N, please,” Haibara urged with worry on his tongue. He knew it was inevitable. He didn’t warn you because he didn’t want you to date his closest friend. But rather, he knew his close friend so well that you would end up heartbroken no matter how it went. “I’m glad he noticed and sent you off to rest. But please… don’t let yourself fall like this. We just went through this yesterday."

You could feel the tears working their way up again. “Yu, I just… I’m just so upset, and I can’t do anything about it.” Your words slur, your voice being altered by your emotion. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling out and splotching your pillow case. “You were right, I know you were right, I just… it was completely out of my hands after a while.”

“It isn’t just you, Y/N,” Haibara says in a soft voice, “Kento has always been like this. He’s not interested in anything but work. He’s a novice in that regard, so don’t cry so hard for a dork.”

“I understand,” you croak, “but I didn’t even get to properly confess. He didn’t get to hear my piece, but was actually happy in believing it was a lie. He sighed like the weight of the world was now off his shoulders!” You brought a hand to your chest, feeling your breathing go unsteady.

A desperate sigh comes through the phone. “Kento has been like this since we were younger. He has never been interested in anything else but getting good grades and working,” Haibara says quietly. You could hear him typing away on his computer. “But… honestly, you are the first person to ever get something different from Kento.”

“Hm?” Tears began drying from curiosity.

“This isn’t to get your hopes high or nothin’, but he has never had a woman as an assistant,” Haibara notes. “Before you, it was me until I got promoted. Then, it was just a few of the other guys within our department helping out upon Kento’s request. He continuously rejected female assistants in the past. So that’s when Takada shacho decided to force an assistant on him: you.”

“R-right,” you hum, “that’s when I was transferred from Sales to Finance.”

“Correct. Kento wasn’t… super happy about it, but Takada sang your praise,” Haibara continues. “And I guess whatever you did truly changed something. Kento would never let anybody drop honorifics on him. The most I’ve ever seen him smile is with you. He’s noticeably more patient and willing with you than anybody else in our department– not even me!”

You giggle weakly at his playful envy, “I think you’re giving me too much credit. We work closely together, so of course he’s going to be nice to me.”

“Sure, but he’s never been open to being addressed casually,” Haibara argues, “he also always used to prefer eating by himself during his lunch time. He would have never let me leave early today. I could be on the floor dying, and he’d just tell me to suck it up and calculate numbers.”

“It’s because you suck at your job, Yu,” you joke.

“I do not!”

“You totally do.”

“Anyways!” He huffs. “Point is, you’re definitely different. He may not share the same feelings as you, but you’ve definitely left an impact on him.”

You let out a sigh. Haibara was right from the start, and truly, it wasn’t even Nanami’s fault. You broke your own heart the day you decided to pursue your crush on him. He’s infamous for being disinterested in anything besides work, and you’ve witnessed the proof since your transfer. Perhaps you looked beyond his consideration, seeing it through rose colored lenses.

But if Haibara has noticed these changes in Nanami, then maybe you weren't just an assistant to him.

Don't bring your hopes up, though, chimed Haibara's voice in your head.

You lay on your back, an arm covering your eyes in embarrassment, “I’m so lame.”

Haibara chuckles, “you’re not lame, don’t start with that–”

You eye around your ceiling upon Haibara’s sudden silence. “Yu?” You chime. “Are you there?”

“Let me call you back,” Haibara says before the call ends. You let the phone slide from your hold, your body melting deeper into your bed. It didn't fix your broken heart, but Haibara's words definitely lifted your spirits a bit.

Haibara's mischievous smile took center stage of his face. He pulled back his dark locks, leaning comfortably into the back of his seat. With both earbuds on, he accepted the video call coming from the man himself.

"Haibara," Nanami begins quietly. Haibara could tell he seemed a bit off, as he wasn't exactly looking at him but rather something else on the lower right of his screen. "I have a question."

"I may have an answer," Haibara replied, "what's up?"

"Has... Y/N recently addressed you differently?" Haibara's eyes widen from Nanami's hesitance in his question. His mind was quickly trying to put 2 and 2 together.

"Differently how?"

"As in, using your name with honorifics," Nanami spewed out, his voice still quite reticent.

"Man, Y/N hasn't used any honorifics since we met honestly," Haibara recounts, "so if recently means ages ago, then sure. What, did she address you as 'kacho'?"

"Yes, she did," Nanami immediately lets out, almost with a touch of torment in his tone. "This morning, before I let her take the rest of the day off, she called me kacho."

Haibara pressed his hand against his lips, trying desperately not to laugh. This is new. "I mean, she used to call you by that for a while when she first became your assistant, no? It's not shocking if she occasionally says it."

"She hasn't said it since her first month as my assistant," Nanami informs. "Why would she start saying it again after we've stopped?"

Haibara shrugs, with a grin threatening to dance at his lips, "who's to say? Did anything happen when you went over to her place yesterday?" Haibara knew, but he enjoyed toying with Nanami's aloofness.

"Nothing noteworthy, I'd say," Nanami begins, genuinely mindless. But his face then expresses a moment of pensiveness. "Well, we worked but she was surprisingly much more quieter than usual. She also didn't finish her breakfast, and went on the rest of the day without eating anything else. I even offered to buy her something."

"That's not like Y/N at all," Haibara comments in a murmur, "if it was me, she'd make me buy her breakfast, post-breakfast, pre-lunch, lunch, and dinner."

"What is post-breakfast?" Nanami asks with confusion in his furrowed brows. He was also curious about the depth of your relationship with Haibara, but that was for another time.

"I'm making a joke," Haibara whisks back to the conversation. "Did she address you as kacho yesterday?"

"No," Nanami quickly recalls, "in fact, she didn't really say my name much since I got to her house."

This is getting too good. Messing with Nanami like this is rare, and Haibara lives for it. "Does it bother you that she's been calling you kacho?" Haibara found himself sitting up straight when he noticed the uncomfortable look on Nanami's face. His question made Nanami feel unsettled for some reason.

"I don't think it bothers me per say," Nanami begins, his eyes still distantly looking elsewhere. "It's just a bit weird that she's been addressing me as such again. It came out of nowhere."

"You're literally her boss," Haibara pointed out dully, "just because you two are more casual doesn't eliminate the fact that you're the one who signs off her payroll."

"W-well, yes, but we've long established that we can be casual within our platonic work relationship," Nanami says in his matter-of-fact voice. "It feels as though our work relationship has changed a bit. It makes me wonder if it was a good idea to go to her house."

"Did you make a mess of her house?"

"No."

"Did you offend her?"

"I don't believe so."

"So why does it feel like it changed?" Haibara inquired strategically. He knew the answer, of course, as he was the first person you confided in. But fishing it out of Nanami would be more insightful, and more hilarious.

"Well, I..." Nanami begins, bringing a hand to the back of his head. "I may have mentioned something that I shouldn't have heard, nor repeated to anyone-- less so, to her."

"Hm?" Haibara hums for him to continue.

Nanami hesitates, but remembers that it's Haibara he was speaking to. His long time, childhood friend turned most trusted coworker. "I overheard two of our colleagues talk about Y/N... having certain feelings for me."

"What, like a crush?" Haibara helped him. Nanami finally meets Haibara's eyes and nods slowly. "Well, what did she say?"

"Well she concurred that it was just a silly rumor," Nanami coos, "it was extremely relieving to know that those rumors were not true at all. After that, we both got swept with work."

"Kento, you are the weirdest man I know," Haibara leans back in his seat again, resting his face in his hand. "Anyhow, better that she doesn't have feelings for you, right? Maybe they meant to say that she has a crush on someone else?"

"Oh no, they were very specific on the fact that she is my assistant, which would explain why she could have developed feelings for me," Nanami quickly defends. "Even then, who else would she have a crush on?"

"O-hoh! Cocky, are we?" Haibara blurts out. "Y'know, you're not the only bachelor in our department."

"Of course not," Nanami quickly remedies, "but I do believe that Y/N and I are very similar. We're both single and dedicate ourselves to work. I'm sure we both have the same view on dating coworkers, too."

"You two aren't the same person, though," Haibara points out. "You think she's like you, but you don't know that for certain. It's like accepting nobody's home without even trying to knock the front door."

"Quite the analogy," Nanami responds dully, "very profound."

"Listen, my point is you're accepting something as fact before you ask," Haibara urges, "what if she doesn't mind dating a coworker?"

"Then I'd be severely disappointed," Nanami puts simply, "she's bright. It would be a shame if she risks her career by pursuing love in our office."

"Who's to say?" Haibara mutters, giving up on the conversation. To argue with Nanami this early is to lose a few years in ones lifespan. "Lets not talk about this anymore, yeah? What was the reason for your call?" Haibara didn't want to admit it, but he was actually a bit annoyed by his friend.

"A-ah, right," Nanami exclaims, falling back into his usual sharp, calm demeanor. "It's to discuss our game plan for Monday, if you have the time to pencil this conversation in."

"Go on," Haibara sighs, giving him the green light. He didn't get everything he wanted to within this conversation, but it definitely gave him some insight in his dear friends mind. It was clear that you weren't just some person to Nanami. But to what extent was the mystery that Haibara was more than happy to figure out.

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#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento

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soapyblubbles · 8 months ago

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*.•° 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 °•.*

pairings: poly!marauders x nymph!reader

summary: james introduces you to his two friends

warnings: implied “sharing.” do with that what you will.

a/n: who was gonna tell me that i actually have to check my inbox to know if i have asks 🙊 anyways this is set before pieces of me !! this is dedicated to the anon who asked me about nymph!reader back in august 😭

You tug roughly on James’ arm, mindlessly cooing as you pull him deeper into the cave.

He doesn’t understand anything that you’re saying, but still he nods along enthusiastically, intently focused on each syllable that leaves your mouth. You had been surprised when he showed up earlier than usual, especially when you realized he had brought others along with him.

The two trail behind uncertainly, their rising alarm resting sour on your tongue.

The long-haired one made you especially wary.

He doesn’t show any outward signs of being nervous but you sense emotions better than most. His wild energy puts you on edge. His aura is bitter, like the unripe fruit that dangles from the trees that tower over you when you journey into the forest. There’s also a hint of sweetness reminiscent of the nectar that the bees sometimes bring you.

If the long-haired one is the fruit then the tall one is the branches, balancing out his companions' wild nature with his never ending patience. That’s not to say he doesn’t have any chaos of his own. You can feel it writhing underneath his skin, especially when he shifts around every now and again, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Though you think that it might be because of how he’s forced to hunch over every now and again, the tips of his hair brushing against the jagged ceiling whenever the floor of the cave gets too uneven.

The taste of honey dew makes your mouth water, along with a richness similar to the dark colored treats James brings you every once in a while.

“Are we almost there?” James’ hushes them and a frown forms on both their faces. You peer at them with interest.

“James.” The tall one scolds, his throat raspy with sleep. “Don’t ignore us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes, we’re almost there. Merlin, all you have to do is wait a few more bloody minutes.”

“Well excuse me if I decide to ask a couple questions when you drag me in the middle of the forbidden forest at this hour.” The tall one hisses back, looking far more lively than he had moments before.

You tug on James’ sleeve, straightening up as his attention instantly falls back to you. “Yes, love?”

You gesture to the cave, turning back to stick your tongue out at the two behind you. Although they're infinitely confused, there’s no doubting the fact that you’ve piqued their interest.

“Bloody brat.” The two mutter in unison.

James ignores them, trying his best to listen to your incomprehensible, but excited mutterings.

“Found the poor thing bathing in a creek when I was roaming around as Prongs.” James sighs, clutching his wand tightly as he walks the familiar path.

They stop just as you reach the entrance to what looks like a house, gazing around in awe as the glass bottles and mason jars start to come to life, fireflies moving around in them restlessly. The unnatural glow coming from the small pond by the back alcove couldn’t be from anything but magic. You lead them further into the room, pointing to the small collection of rocks and other random items, sorted in a chaotic manner.

“Wow.” The shorter one whispers breathlessly.

You push James on your makeshift bed, made up of moss and hay. You sidle up to his side with a contented hum. “Brought her some stuff when I could. But for now I figured I’d share her with m’best mates.”

They both pause at that.

“What?”

“Trust me, the poor thing can barely even understand us.” He assures his tall friend.

Seeing how unconvinced they still were, he sighs and turns to you. You perk up at his attention, letting the small stones you were messing with fall to the floor as you give him a bright smile.

“You’re just a dumb little nymph aren’t you?” He coos down at you. You nod along eagerly, eyes shining with adoration as he mocks you.

“Such a dumb girl, who’s my dumb girl, huh?” His voice was not unlike the voice one would use when speaking to a puppy and you just smiled along, practically bouncing in place at his upbeat tone. You latch onto his arm, fiddling with the fabric on his jacket.

James sighs at your actions, pulling you closer into him, your teeth making a soft ‘click’ every time you bite down on the material.

Sirius gives Remus a heavy look, the long haired boy looking doubtful when Remus walks over, hunching over you. His slender finger trails up and down your calf. “Such a pretty girl.”

You must’ve understood what he said because no sooner did those words leave his mouth, did your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him forward harshly.

With a speed that surprised even him, his arms shot out to either side of your head, letting out a loud groan as a few small rocks dug into his palms, just barely managing to stop himself from crushing you.

You let out a series of loud clicking and chirping noises, unaware of how improper your actions were. He lets out a huff, rising to his knees as you continue to babble nonsensically. “You don’t do that. You understand? Tha’s not nice and someone could’a gotten hurt.” His tone is firm and you squirm in place, peering up at him with wide eyes.

James had never spoken that way to you before.

Bashfully, you turn away from him, hiding your face in the crook of James’ neck. “Hey mate, don’t be rude to my best girl. Just cause I’m sharing ‘er doesn’t mean you need to be a prick to the poor thing.” He grumbles, petting your head softly.

Remus just sighs, shaking his head at you two before calling out, “Are y’just gonna stand there all evenin’?”

Sirius, who was still wandering around the cave, shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “Sorry mate, s’just cool in here.” He moves to sit down, but freezes when your head snaps to him. You bare your teeth, hissing with furrowed brows as you eye the way he’s just a little too close to James.

James lets out a booming laugh as Sirius’ features morph into a scowl.

Remus slaps James’ arm. “Be nice.”

#hunnie posts ➷#hunnie writes ☀︎#poly!marauders x reader #poly marauders #james potter x reader #james potter blurb #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin blurb #sirius black x reader #sirius black blurb #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #nymph!reader #pieces of me au

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick?

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson.

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization.

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses.

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room.

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip.

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow.

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair.

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast?

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered.

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind.

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window.

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes.

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge.

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword.

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight.

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air.

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night.

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.”

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you.

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin.

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass.

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal.

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact.

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time.

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie.

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration.

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside.

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful.

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost?

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less.

Your own family had never been so generous.

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity.

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat.

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.”

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.”

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night.

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned.

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?”

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.”

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges.

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees.

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow.

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?”

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.”

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.”

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground.

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets.

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other.

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched.

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down.

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly.

Relentlessly.

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding.

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion.

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.”

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh.

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.”

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight.

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain.

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?”

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?”

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?”

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests.

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist.

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.”

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily.

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.”

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.”

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about.

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies.

You’d be found out in no time.

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?”

Can and not do.

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals.

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that.

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips.

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?”

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past.

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains.

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you.

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge.

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell.

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?”

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.”

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot.

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief.

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences.

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools.

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron.

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds.

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes.

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers.

There was no running from this.

“Okay,” you whisper.

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whatacaitastrophe · 9 months ago

Text

Just About Snapped

Summary: Gale stands up to Mystra when she summons him to the Stormshore Tabernacle and is so jacked up on Mountain Dew after that public sex ensues. (he’s not drinking mountain dew i’m just quoting talladega nights)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Female)

AO3 Link: Here

Warnings: Public Sex, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Porn with Plot, inappropriate use of Arcane Lock, time works the way I say it works, let me live, You've heard of Astarion fucking on his own grave, but have you considered: Gale fucking on an altar dedicated to Mystra as a fuck you?

When Elminster showed up the moment they walked out of Sorcerer’s Sundries with The Annals of Karsus in Gale’s pack, Fallon had to laugh. The goddess of magic had all but ignored Gale for more than a year, and now she was sending Elminster on her behalf twice in the span of a fortnight; and this time, she wanted to speak to Gale herself.

“How could she possibly know we read a book?” Fallon asked Gale once Elminster departed.

“Trust me, by even opening the book containing the type of magic The Annals of Karsus contains, we basically set off a giant firework that spelled out ‘look at me, Mystra!’ Trust me. She knows.” Gale explained bitterly.

Fallon reached for Gale’s hand, squeezing it softly. “If you don’t want to go see her, we don’t have to. You don’t owe her anything, Gale.”

“No, this conversation is long overdue. On both sides. It shouldn’t take long.” He sighed.

According to Gale, time worked differently in the Outer Planes, and he should only be gone for a matter of seconds, even if his conversation with Mystra lasted hours for him.

That was almost three hours ago.

Had Mystra manipulated time so however much time passed for her and Gale, also passed here, on the mortal plane of existence? Honestly, with how vindictive she was, Fallon wouldn’t put it past Mystra to do something like that. The goddess had been watching them, so clearly she knew that Gale was romantically involved with someone else. Hells, she’d probably known since the moment Fallon and Gale played in the Weave together in the early days of their journey together. After all, Fallon hadn’t been subtle by imagining kissing Gale. Was she such a bitter scorned ex-lover that she would drag this out, just to fuck with Fallon as well?

Somehow, Fallon wouldn’t put it past her.

“What if she’s done something to him?” Fallon wondered aloud frantically as she began to pace in front of the statue of the goddess she did not serve.

“I highly doubt that,” Astarion mused as he picked at some dirt beneath his fingernails. “Based on what the old codger said, it sounds like she needs something else from Gale since he refused to blow himself up.” The vampire was sitting on the floor of The Stormshore Tabernacle beneath the statue of Selune next to Shadowheart, a position they’d taken after Gale had been gone for five minutes. That was about how long it took for them all to realize that even if Gale thought the conversation shouldn’t take long, Mystra might have other ideas.

They’d been waiting for Gale to come back from the Outer Planes for so long that the sun was setting on Baldur’s Gate. Another half hour went by, and Astarion and Shadowheart had begun looking at each other skeptically. Fallon wouldn’t put it past the two of them to be communicating mind to mind via the tadpole connection. She stopped pacing, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at the cleric and the vampire. “If you want to leave, you can. I’ll be fine.”

If Gale didn’t come back soon, Fallon was not going to be fine, not even close, but if hearing her say that she would be fine was the permission her friends needed to assuage their guilt for wanting to leave, then Fallon would tell them what they wanted to hear. Shadowheart looked at Fallon, a soft look in her eyes. “He knows where to find us, Fallon. I’m sure he’ll come straight home once–”

“I’m not leaving.” Fallon interrupted, her tone short and she glared at her friend for even suggesting it.

“Let it go, Shadowheart. She’ll come back when she’s ready. With or without Gale.” Fallon hated the look on Astarion’s face, because he clearly thought Gale wasn’t coming back. Not tonight, and perhaps not at all. Fallon frowned as she took a seat beneath the statue of the goddess of magic.

“I’m not leaving.” She repeated simply. Astarion raised his hands in defeat, and Shadowheart shook her head, but the two of them left all the same.

Another half hour went by.

What if Astarion was right? What if Gale wasn’t coming back? Had they made a huge mistake by heeding Elminster’s request and coming here? From everything Gale had told Fallon about the archmage, she had no reason to believe that he would willingly lead Gale into a trap. However, there was every reason to believe that Mystra wouldn’t send Elminster to fetch Gale under false pretenses just to get Gale to the Outer Planes.

It was dark outside when the cleric overseeing the temple approached Fallon. “I am departing for the evening, madam. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like, but it will be just you and the gods until your friend returns.” He offered Fallon a gentle smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. A warm feeling flooded Fallon’s body as a soft golden light emitted from the cleric’s palm.

“A blessing, to keep you safe while you wait.”

Somehow Fallon doubted she would be attacked here, but if she were, it wouldn’t be the strangest place the Absolutists ambushed her recently, so she was grateful for the blessing all the same. Fallon nodded in thanks to the cleric as she pulled her knees in towards her chest and rested her head on them as she wrapped her arms around herself as he used his magic to dim the lights. If she was going to be here all night, she might as well try to get some sleep.

Within minutes of the cleric’s departure, there was a flash of purple light and Fallon’s head snapped up. Gale, her sweet, wonderful Gale, came tumbling out of a portal with such force that Fallon couldn’t help but wonder if Mystra had physically shoved him out, or if he’d been leaning against something and she moved it out from under Gale to send him back. At the sight of him, relief flooded her body and Fallon let out a strangled sob as she shot to her feet and ran to embrace Gale.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m here,” Gale said softly into her hair as he held her tightly, running one of his hands over the back of her head as he held her tight with the other. “I’m here.”

Fallon lifted her head to look at Gale, searching his eyes for an explanation. “What the hells happened, Gale? You were gone all day.”

His voice was bitter as he kissed her forehead. “I know, Mystra told me as much before sending me back. I hate that she took out her ire with me on you like that.”

Fallon looked up at Gale, refusing to let him go. “I had a feeling it might not be going well based on how long you were gone.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Another bitter laugh left Gale’s mouth. He kissed the crown of Fallon’s head and rested his chin atop it as she rested her cheek against his chest. “Would you believe me if I told you she seemed more upset about my relationship with you than she was about our plans for The Crown of Karsus?”

Fallon scoffed and poked his side playfully. “Be serious, Gale.”

“I am being serious, Fallon,” Gale squirmed as she poked a slightly ticklish spot, and it gave him a reason to pull back from her enough to look at Fallon as he continued. “You’ve shown me that love isn’t transactional, or something one has to constantly prove they are worthy of receiving, and because of that, I’ve openly defied Mystra’s direct marching orders. Twice. First by not detonating the orb at Moonrise Towers, and again the moment I decided the Crown of Karsus was not Mystra’s to control. The bruises I left on her ego are far more devastating to her than the thought of my becoming her equal will ever be.”

Fallon reached up and cupped the side of Gale’s face in her hand. “This goes without saying, but I am very proud of you for standing up to her. I don’t think the Gale Dekarios that I pulled out of the broken sigil in a rock would have been able to. You’ve come a long way, Gale.”

Gale smiled as he covered Fallon’s hand with his own and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He leaned in and kissed her the way she’d imagined in the Weave the night he’d invited her to play with magic early on in their courtship: slowly at first, then with passion. Fallon sighed into his mouth as she parted her lips for him and slid her tongue against his lower lip, and he responded in kind with a soft moan as his hands gripped her hips. They were moving, and when Fallon felt a hard surface against her backside she broke the kiss to take in her surroundings. Gale had maneuvered their bodies in such a way that Fallon was now leaning against the edge of the altar dedicated to none other than Mystra herself. A sly grin spread on her face as she turned her attention back to Gale, and she was met with an equally devilish loon in her wizard’s eyes.

Fallon did not need to ask or peer into his mind with the connection their tadpoles afforded them to know what Gale wanted, or what he intended to do, and Fallon was suddenly very grateful she’d chosen to wear the deep blue grecian wrap dress that Figaro at Facemaker’s had talked her into purchasing. The idea of potentially being caught shot a thrill through Fallon’s body, but thanks to the dress, at least this way some of her modesty would be preserved if that ended up being the case.

Gale’s mouth moved from her lips to her neck and across her shoulder, and Fallon braced herself on the altar’s edge with her hands as she sighed approvingly. His exploration of her body continued south as Gale pressed his face directly between her breasts to kiss her sternum while one of his hands deftly slipped beneath the fabric to toy with her breast before pushing the fabric to the side just far enough for Gale to capture her exposed flesh in his mouth. Fallon moaned as she felt Gale’s tongue roll over the peaked bud before he bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue once more. There was little urgency in the way Gale moved as his other hand slipped between her legs and he pressed his fingers against her core over the cloth, and Fallon whimpered.

“Gale…time is not really on our side here...” Fallon reminded him. Though if she were being honest, her pleading tone had nothing to do with the potential of getting caught and everything to do with her need for Gale to give her more than just teasing touches.

Gale released her breast from his mouth and looked at her with a look of innocence on his face that did not reach his eyes. No, there was nothing but pure mischief residing in the expressive brown hues she’d come to adore with everything she had. Fallon’s heart flipped in her chest, and her knees wobbled under his gaze. “Whilst I am not worried about any late night intruders, I see where your concerns lie, so allow me to make an offering as a gesture to your comfort.” Gale removed his hand from between her legs and waved it precisely in the direction of the front door of the Stormshore Tabernacle, and Fallon heard the faint clicking sound of the lock falling into place.

“There. Though, I will say, any person capable of breaking through the Arcane Lock I just placed on the door would be rather deserving of the opportunity to witness me worship a goddess far more worthy of my devotion than any other deity in this temple.” Gale sank to his knees, spreading Fallon’s legs to settle between them and parting the folds of her dress to expose her lower half to the elements. Fallon gathered the excess fabric in her hand and rested it on the altar behind her so it pooled at the goddess of magic’s feet, and Fallon had honestly never felt more powerful.

Gale’s hands roamed up her legs and thighs until they reached her undergarments. Without a word, Gale hooked his fingers beneath the hem and tugged them down to her ankles and carefully lifted each of Fallon’s feet so he could remove them. They were soaked with her arousal, and Gale smirked as he took notice before tucking the evidence into the pocket of his robes, but he said nothing.

“I’m surprised Gale, you normally have something to say about the state I’m in when you take off my clothes. No waxing poetic, today?” Fallon teased, unable to recall the last time her normally verbose wizard was so silent.

Gale looked up at her, his smirk still very much present on his face as he reached for her leg to drape it over his shoulder. “Do you mind, Fallon? I’m trying to pray.”

Fallon opened her mouth to make a snappy retort, but the words died in her throat and were replaced with moan; for no sooner had he asked for her silence, she felt Gale’s mouth against her center as he licked a long stripe before closing his mouth around her clit and lavishing it with his tongue. She whispered an expletive and gripped the edge of the altar, her knuckles white with effort as Gale devoured her, his strong hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place.

Fallon’s head fell back as she whimpered with pleasure. She opened her eyes for a moment, and Fallon could have sworn the statue of Mystra was looking down at her with a glare. Whether that was actually the case or not, Fallon stuck her tongue out at the statue in a taunting manner anyway. Knowing Gale loved Fallon enough not only to defy Mystra was enough to make her feel a little smug, but the fact that Gale loved her so deeply that he was willing to commit sins of the flesh with her against an altar devoted to his ex-lover? Mystra could come down from Elysium and smite them where they stood (or kneeled, Gale’s case), and Fallon would die a happy woman.

Gale slid two fingers inside of her and she stifled another moan, raising her hips toward the wizard, urging him to go deeper. Instead, Gale stopped what he was doing and lifted his head to look up at her as she made a noise of disapproval. “My love, why are you holding back?” He asked her before kissing her inner thigh.

“I didn’t want to disturb your prayers.” Fallon goaded him.

Gale raised an eyebrow at his lover and pressed another kiss to her inner thigh as his fingers began slowly moving inside of her again. “That your voice is not echoing off the walls of this temple means I’m not praying hard enough, dearest. I can’t have any of the other deities questioning my devotion to you, now can I?”

With that, Gale went back to work, lapping at her clit with his tongue and his fingers moved inside of her. Fallon moaned, and this time, she did not hold back, her sounds of approval only pushed Gale forward. He began to devour her cunt eagerly, almost desperately until the only word Fallon knew how to say was his name. When Fallon finally came, her vision blurred as she cried out in ecstasy, legs shaking as she clung to the altar beneath her for support. Gale remained dutifully between her legs with his mouth and fingers touching her until the spasms subsided and he was certain she’d been fully satisfied. Then Gale was on his feet and fumbling with his trousers beneath his robes and Fallon watched hungrily as his erection sprang free when Gale pushed his trousers down just far enough to release his cock.

Fallon moved to reach for Gale’s cock, ready to drop to her knees for the wizard and return the favor, but Gale shook his head, bracing her shoulder with the hand not gripping his cock to keep her in place. “As much as I adore the vision of you taking me in your mouth for all the gods to see, I’d much rather them watch me fuck you against this altar, if that’s alright?”

Fallon’s jaw went slack as she stared at Gale, his eyes dark and desperate with need for her, and she couldn’t help but let out a single, short laugh. “That is…more than alright,” Fallon hooked one of her legs around Gale’s hip and tugged him closer, taking his length in her hand and positioning it at her entrance. “Show them all how good you make me feel. How good we look together.”

Gale groaned as he kissed Fallon, pushing inside her quickly with a snap of his hips. Fallon shuddered with pleasure as Gale filled her, and she wrapped her other leg around his hip, pushing him deeper inside of her. Gale leaned down to kiss and bite her neck, moaning as he started thrusting his hips, setting a rough pace. “Gods, Gale, I love how well you fuck me,” Fallon moaned, removing her hands from the edge of the altar to wrap them around Gale’s neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well, my love.”

Fallon was balancing precariously on the edge of the altar now, and she held on tightly to Gale to keep from slipping. Mercifully, Gale took notice of this fact and in one swift movement, he lifted her up and away from the altar, the skirt of her dress cascading down around her, and she whined at the loss of him as Gale’s cock slipped out of her as they moved. Fallon thought Gale might be relocating them to the wall next to Mystra’s altar, but instead, Gale carefully sank to his knees and gently laid Fallon on the temple floor.

The cool stone was welcome against the heat of her body, and she released Gale’s hips from the grasp of her legs, settling them on either side of him. Fallon looked up at Gale with a look of pure adoration. “I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” She reminded him, and Gale smiled at her in return.

Her wizard leaned forward and kissed her slowly. When he was ready, he pulled away from their kiss and pressed his forehead against Fallon’s. “You are the most magnificent woman I have ever had the great pleasure of knowing. To know you love me, and how much I love you in return…there will never be a greater feeling in the universe.”

Gale kissed her again as he repositioned himself between her legs and slid back home, his pace slower than before, deeper. This man wasn’t just fucking Fallon in front of an altar dedicated to his ex, he was making love to her: likely in a way he never got to experience with Mystra, if the stories he’d shared were any indication. The love she and Gale shared was the kind of love only mortals would ever understand. It was world-shattering, soul-bonding, life-altering love that many people would never be able to claim they’ve experienced, and Fallon felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have found that type of love in Gale.

The only sounds echoing off the walls of the temple now were those of their collective moans, and Fallon clung to Gale has she could feel her second orgasm in the edges of her body, rising quickly to the surface. “Gale— I’m not going to last much longer.” Fallon pleaded.

“Let go, dearest, I’ve got you.” Gale encouraged as his own movements became more erratic with each thrust.

“I want to go with you. Together.” Fallon requested and all Gale could do was nod as he picked up the pace.

Within moments, Fallon came with Gale’s name on her lips and he followed mere seconds behind her. They rode out the high together, holding each other close as they moved, until each of them had nothing left to give and Gale collapsed on top of her with a deep kiss.

Fallon couldn’t help but giggle into his mouth, smiling about what they’d just done. “Do you think when we go to the House of Hope that Raphael will just go ahead and show us to our room? Because surely we’ve just secured our spots in Avernus when we die for what we’ve just done.”

Gale laughed with her, and he kissed her nose. “Worth it.”

When they finally returned to the suite at The Elfsong Tavern, before anyone could ask about where Gale had been, Astarion took one look at them and made a disgusted sound. “Oh my gods, the two of you had sex in that bloody temple didn’t you?”

Fallon’s jaw slackened and Gale looked at Astarion guilty.

“How did you—“

“Even if you didn’t reek of sex, darling, go look in the mirror.”

Fallon immediately rushed to the closest mirror and gasped when she took in her reflection. She was a mess. Her hair was disheveled, her dress was barely on straight, and the love bites on her neck had begun to bruise. She caught Gale’s eye in the mirror’s reflection and grinned.

“Worth it.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #bg3 fanfic #female tav #gale x tav #bg3 smut #gale smut #baldur's gate 3 fan fiction #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 fan fiction #gale fanfic

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dyaz-stories · 1 year ago

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a house, not a home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, hyun-su needs a hug, unresolved tension, mentions of blood

a/n: okay so, for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman though if people are interested i could definitely write that 👀 I hope you'll like it! Please let me know your thoughts and if you'd like me to write more, and consider reblogging!

next part

The hardest thing to get used to, after what others called the Monsterization Outbreak but you labelled, more simply, the Apocalypse, was the silence. You were the type of person to always have music playing, back when you were a high schooler studying hard to get into your college of choice. Now, music was wasted electricity and, worse, could be a death sentence if anyone — anything — heard it play, or if it dulled your senses and got you killed.

At the beginning, there had been lots of sounds. Screams. Cars colliding. Stores’ alarms, blaring when the looters broke in. Sobs. In your house, for a while, there had been your father, humming quietly as he worked.

Then he’d gotten a nosebleed, left the house, and never returned.

Now it was just you, and you’d learned not to make a sound. So when there’s a knock on your door, it echoes through the rooms and rattles you to your core. For a second, you clench your trusty baseball bat. You took hours and cut your fingers planting nails into it, but it’s worth it, if only for the feeling of confidence it gives you. Truth is, you rarely had to use it. Your strategy relies on avoiding confrontation at all costs.

You release it when you realize that there are very few people who can come knocking at your door.

After all, monsters don’t knock.

You rush to the door without letting go of the bat. Your habits are ingrained in you well enough that you still check the peephole — and when you do, your heart somersaults in your chest.

You keep the hinges well-oiled and the door doesn’t make a sound when you open it.

“Come in,” you whisper, not daring to break the silence with actual words.

Cha Hyun-Su stares at you, looks like he hesitates. He always does, looks like he wants to give you a chance to slam the door back in his face. He’s covered in blood now — ‘not mine’, you know he’d say if you asked —, clutching his wrist, lips chapped, eyes hollow.

“Come on,” you say again, and this time he does, walking by you without a word. Then he goes still once more, there in your entrance, while you close the door behind him. He always does that, until you give him explicit permission.

“Are you okay?” you ask when you turn around, hands reaching for his arms, his torso, trying to check on him, though you cannot see whether or not he is hurt.

“I’m fine,” he replies with that deep voice of his, catching your wrists before you can feel for yourself. “It’s not my blood.”

It never is.

“But are you hurt?” you press, still.

He frowns, and confusion sparks in his eyes.

“I told you. I’m fine.”

You shake your head.

“No, I mean— Does it hurt? Does anything hurt?”

Hyun-Su’s lips part. He closes his eyes. His body sways towards yours, and you freeze. You feel his breath against your cheek, and his grip on your wrist becomes lighter— a caress, at most. You just stay there, not wanting to scare him away, but not wanting to leave him to himself either. You feel a pull towards him, the urge to wrap your arms around him, and you resist it, knowing that he’d flee.

Finally, he snaps out of it, lets go of you, takes a step back.

“I’m fine,” he repeats for a third time.

You don’t push it.

“Do you want to take a bath?”

Clean water isn’t easy to come by these days. Fortunately for you, you have a complex system designed to retain rain water as well as morning dew, put in place by your father, when he was still around. It’s rained recently, and with the help of solar panels you’d stolen with him what feels like a lifetime ago, you’ll be able to have hot water. Showers, you haven’t mastered — though you’re sure your dad would have figured it out by now — but you can at least offer him a warm bath.

Hyun-Su’s eyes are on you, wide and focused.

They’re ever so slightly warmer than they were when he came in.

“I would like that.”

Hyun-Su comes out of the bathroom some thirty minutes later, clean and looking more like himself. He’s wearing clothes he’d left there on one of his other visits, which you’d washed by hand among some of your stuff.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice firmer than it had been earlier.

“It’s not a problem,” you reply, and you have to stop yourself from grimacing at how fake your nonchalance sounds to your ears.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Have you been okay here?” he asks instead.

You bite the inside of your cheek. The answer is complicated. You’ve been safe, physically that is. You have barely caught sight of a monster since he’s last been here — nine days ago. You can’t say you’re bored, either. There’s always things to do, to fix, to figure out around here.

What you are, is alone.

And, though you don’t want to admit it, lonely.

It might be the kind of answer he’s looking for, yet you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. It’s not even that you don’t want him to know.

It’s that you’re scared that if you did, if you asked him to stay or to take you with him, he would still leave you behind.

“I make do,” you reply, which at least isn’t a lie. “I keep myself busy.”

It’s your turn to freeze when Hyun-Su leans forward, trying to meet your eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

A smile escapes you at his cautious tone as he repeats your words at you. You look up, and there he is, inches away from your face, checking on you in the very same way you’d checked on him when he’d arrived — now that he’s had the time and space to collect himself. For half a second, the corner of his lips lifts clumsily to form a smile in response to yours, and then it’s gone, as he, too, realizes how close he is.

You see him sucking in a breath, then swallowing, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Your heart beats so loud in your ears, you can’t even hear the silence anymore.

“I’m not hurt,” you say, and it is true for now, at least.

Hyun-Su nods without moving away. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’re not used to, a spark, a craving.

His eyes drop to your lips.

Your whole body is tingling with anticipation, yet you don’t move, no matter how badly you want to close the gap between you. You can’t rush him. You’d never forgive yourself, if he didn’t come back.

He leans forward, just by an inch, then closer again, so close and—

He turns his head at the last moment, late enough that his cheek brushes against yours, before he pulls himself back.

That hurts. It makes your heart ache more than you’ve let yourself hurt in forever.

“Sorry,” Hyun-Su mumbles, stumbling back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You’re not sure if he’s apologizing for trying to kiss you, or for not doing it.

“I’ve brought you food,” he says in a rush, picking up his backpack by the entrance door.

You watch him as he does, and you can’t help but note the many wounds on his body. Most of them are half-closed, and you know that they’ll be gone by the next time he comes back, but that new ones will have had the time to open and heal halfway.

He hands you his offering of food, without meeting your eyes this time, and you take it from him. Your fingers brush against him, and he moves his hand away like you’ve just burned him.

“It’s late,” you say, your voice quiet even to your own ears, even now that you’re so accustomed to the lack of noise. You don’t want him to go, not just yet. “You should sleep here.”

But, just like you expected, Hyun-Su shakes his head and closes his backpack with shaky hands.

“I need to go,” he says. Then, when you don’t answer — can he tell you’re fighting back tears? —, he adds “I’ll come back. I promise.”

You nod. It’s your turn to avoid his eyes.

“I’ll be waiting,” you say.

You open the door for him, and you force yourself to look at him as he steps back outside, into the unknown, into the danger, and away from you.

He looks back, right before disappearing in the night.

“Stay safe,” you say, though you know he won’t.

“You too,” he says, knowing you will.

And then he’s gone, and you’re alone with the silence again.

next part

#hyunsu x reader #cha hyun su x reader #sweet home #sweet home netflix #cha hyun su #sweet home x reader #sweet home season 2 #hyun su x reader #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #hyunsoo x reader

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thelampisaflashlight · 4 months ago

Text

Some Dew specific headcanons, because my post last night has me thinking about him, again. Let's go.

-Says he doesn't have a hair care routine, but a thousand percent actually does... he just doesn't realize that's what it is.

He follows a specific pattern with how and when he washes and conditions his hair, and when he just lets it be, and he even changes up what products he's using depending on the season, not because he heard that was a thing, but because he went, "Well, my skin gets pretty dry during the winter, I should use something moisturizing, right...?"

Rinse and repeat, ya know?

Also does a lot more skin care than he thought.

-He doesn't stay up late anymore unless it's during tour or a special occasion, because this man wants to sleep dammit.

While most of the other ghouls are staying up until the dawn every other night, Dew is in his room by 9pm and asleep by 11pm at the latest.

If he's doing something and he sees it's close to his bedtime, he just wraps things up unless he only has a little bit left.

He has no shame in setting something aside, even though his younger, newly ghoulified self would've gotten into a panic over deadlines and getting his work done... older, seasoned ghoul Dew?

Nah, shit can wait.

-The guy who knows how to fix *almost* everything. Refuses to do anything involving plumbing or electrical work, not because he thinks he couldn't do it, but because he'd rather have someone else take care of the problem so he can go about his other tasks unimpeded.

Did unclog Rain's shower once, but that's because it was his hair stuck in the drain.

And lastly;

-Copia's go-to for handling band related tasks and errands when they're not on tour, because it's easier to send Dew out with a list than to wait around for someone else to do it or have to get something delivered.

Dew is also able to find adequate replacements for products they can't replace right away or they know will get lost and/or intentionally left behind.

Sure, he could just order things online anyway, but who else will go out for a package of guitar strings and come back with a bonus baggy of fresh croissants and the latest local gossip about that, "shady cult in the woods" that's totally not just the people in the town nearby talking about them, nooo...

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons

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st-danger · 11 months ago

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Phantom breeding kink?

"You wanna?" The questions is huffed out between Dew pushing into him, sliding out. The slow drag of it is delicious. He could enjoy this, not push his luck too much, but Swiss tells him things, secret things, and what would be the point of a well lit path of breadcrumbs if he's not meant to follow?

Dew hesitates. Aeon looks up at him with wide, innocent eyes- the devil's always good about convincing folks he doesn't exist, right? Isn't that the narrative that's pushed here? So- innocent, sweet. Asking in a softer voice, the one that always gets Swiss, the one that sounds like silk. He knows he can look like an angel, even with his legs over somebody's shoulders.

Dew adjusts, so he can bring a hand, wrap it around his throat- holding. Warning.

"Watch it," he says.

Breadcrumbs, though.

"Swiss says it freaks you out," Aeon says. He knows he's pushing it, but he also knows Swiss would not feed him information that wasn't to be used. "Says it makes you cum really hard anyway." Dew continues to stare at him, and when Aeon feels his cock throb hard inside of him, he sucks his lower lip into his mouth. Coquettish.

"Is that what he says," Dew murmurs, tone unkind.

"I thought maybe you wanna try it from the other side," Aeon says. "I need it." Reaches for Dew's chest, and gives the rings in his nipples a playful little tug. "I think you do, too."

Dew scoffs, lets go of his throat, and leans back up, hooking his hands behind Aeon's knees. Aeon sees the cracks in his composure, even if Dew thinks he's being careful. There's been a few things he's gotten really good at Above Ground, and one of his best is working his way under Dew's skin in the best ways possible. Getting into his bloodstream and getting into his head. Dew's never stood a chance with him, has found him alluring and irresistible since the first hookup backstage when he'd shoved him against the door, stroking both of them off, kissing Aeon stupid in between telling him how impressed he was.

They hang suspended for a moment, and Aeon gives him his most beatific smile.

"Wanna knock me up?"

Dew is pulling out, flipping him over, and shoving him down before Aeon's brain catches up to what's happening. A hand on the back of his neck forcing his chest down, his ass up, presented. Dew slides back in without warning. A hard sharp thrust in that makes Aeon gasp with it.

"That what you want?" Dew's voice sounds weird. Tense. Strangled. Another hard thrust, and Aeon laughs, absolutely delighted. Maybe he'll buy Swiss some flowers. The laugh is cut off when Dew slams back in again, forcing the breath from him, and there's a hint of cruelty in it that sends a thrill up his spine. He doesn't wait for a response, just begins fucking into him harder and faster than he's expecting, or prepared for. Aeon startles.

"Dew-"

"I'm gonna," Dew grunts.

"S'really hard," Aeon says, of the pace, the force Dew begins railing him with. It isn't bad, but it's unexpected, and through the arousal, he feels the flicker-flame of nervousness bloom in the pit of his stomach.

"You want it, you're going to take it how I give it to you," Dew says, dark, and hits just the right spot, pushes on the back of his neck just a little harder. Pinning him further. Aeon moans, sharp and reedy. "You wanna be bred so bad? I'll give it to you, then," he says, and Aeon feels the fingers on his hips dig savagely in.

"Do it," Aeon says.

He realizes quickly he's over his head, and realizes just how much he likes it.

Swiss had left him breadcrumbs, but hadn't warned him about what, exactly, it would lead him to.

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genderlessghoul · 8 months ago

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Okay there's too much elemental transition Dew angst on this app. And I mean that in the most affectionate way possible, I swear to god y'all who write it always manage to make my heart ache in the worst/best possible ways. But I am a simple, soft creature so I present to you : Dew who actually accepts and recieves well his elemental transition.

Dew who's skeptical of the idea at first because water is all he's ever known. He turns the idea in his head over and over again until he realizes how tempting the offer feels to him. Yes, water is all he's ever known but he doesn't really feel attached to it like he should. The more he thinks it over, the more it feels like a blessing. A new start.

Dew who talks about it beforehand to the rest of the pack. They're worried, rightfully so, but they listen to his explanation. And they agree with him in the end, he should do it if he feels like the right thing for him.

Dew who goes throught with the transformation, and it hurts like a bitch and he's sick for a good two weeks after. But his pack is there to take care of him. He doesn't like depending on others but he lets them, secretly loving how everyone offers to carry him everywhere, how it feels to have people wash his hair and bring him food.

Dew who connects with fire as soon as he's better. The element truly calls to him, pulls him in, welcomes him. It's warm and intense and it's home. Finally home. He learns his fire ghoul duty in no time under Ifrit's teaching.

Dew who doesn't resent Rain at first for being the new water ghoul, quite the opposite. Aether's the one who was supposed to be in charge of putting a cloak over him, charming and comforting as ever. But the second Dew saw that water ghoul, folded in on himself in the middle of that summoning circle, he took that cloak out of Aether's hand faster than he could think about it. Walked up to the shaking Rain, wrapped him up tight and told him it would all be okay, that he's safe. Dew takes him under his wing, teaches him all about being a water ghoul, as well as he can without being one himself anymore.

Something in Rain calls to him, he knows it's the water. It's not mad at him for pulling it out of his body, it knows it was the best decision for him. But it still misses him. And Rain shows him all the love that water ever had for Dew, a love that was never meant to be in him but rather with him. (And also sometimes in him, if you catch my drift.)

Dew who learns to love his scars, to accept them as a part of his story and his journey, rather than a heavy anchor to his past. He doesn't shy away when Phantom sees them for the first time. Doesn't try to hide or to make up stories. They're a part of him. And they're beautiful.

Aight that's my self service for the night, good byyyyye

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop ghost #meerkat writes #ghost ficlet

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wordsbyrian · 1 year ago

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Surgeries and Surprises - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: "Skater!R gets injured", "Skater!R skates in XGames", "IDK but more Skater!R"

A/n: Look, I finally wrote a thing you guys! From multiple request for more Skater!R

Despite popular belief, skateboarding is an incredibly multifaceted activity.

There are so many different disciplines: street, vert, park, freestyle, downhill (and its variation street luge), and cruising.

For the first four, there are different competitions that skaters can compete in if they are so inclined. And in all honesty, you are usually not inclined to compete, preferring the unpredictable nature of actual street skating to the polished finish of comps like Street League, XGames, and Dew Tour.

But the chance to be one of the first skateboarders to compete in the Olympics.

Well, that’s not really something you can pass up on.

Which is why you’re skating in your 5th comp of the summer.

Not the worst schedule but you’re an idiot and made the choice to also try and get clips for your next video parts in your very limited free time.

Free time, that was only made more limited by the way you were constantly flying back and forth to France to support your wife in the World Cup.

All of this is to say that your body is currently going through it.

And, unluckily, it’ll keep going through it because XGames comps are not set up in a way that plays to your strengths, with only three 45 seconds runs to string together a line and show the judges what you can do.

Luckily, on the other hand, your flight out of Minneapolis is booked for immediately after the contest ends.

Your first two timed runs went pretty well but you know you can do better which is why you saved your best stuff for your final run.

And for the most part, your final run goes pretty well until you get to your last trick with 10 seconds remaining.

You had planned it out perfectly so that you had enough time to take a breath before giving it a go. A necessary precaution for a trick you're familiar with but not a master at, a frontside flip noseslide to fakie, especially since you’re trying it down the biggest obstacle, the 4-block rail.

A little homage to Reynolds, something you’ve been doing throughout the contest season.

Except there are a couple of problems.

The first is that, unlike Reynolds, you are not a master of the frontside flip.

The other is that after a long day of being skated by just about everyone, the rail had picked up the wax from everyone’s boards, making it slicker than you need it to be for your noseslide.

Which is why you aren’t very surprised when you hit the ground. The only surprising thing is how much it hurts.

You immediately roll over and begin to stand up and take a few steps, only to drop to one knee after barely making it anywhere.

As you try to gather the strength to stand again, you’re stopped by someone placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay down, Y/N/N.” It’s Reynolds. “You just used your head as a basketball and your arm is fucked. They’re bringing out a stretcher.”

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to get up again. “I don’t need a stretcher.”

His hand gets firmer and you feel him pushing you to sit down properly.

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’m serious,” he says. “I’m telling you this as your friend, not as your boss. You need to go to the hospital, your shit is fucked.”

It’s at this moment that you realize how quiet the arena is.

It’s almost as if you can hear the individualized breaths of everyone in the building and honestly, it's making your head pound in a way that you wish you weren’t familiar with.

Then you see the EmTs rolling the stretcher towards you.

“Fuck dude,” you groan, resigning yourself to your fate. “Just don’t call Alex, man, she’s gonna freak out.”

“It’s too late, she already texted me she’s trying to get on the next flight out.”

“Shit.”

The entire process of letting the EMTs do their jobs is a hassle because it’s painfully obvious that they don’t deal with skateboarders often. And it takes a lot of convincing for you to even let them strap you to the backboard.

Your memory blurs out a bit after that.

The only thing you really remember besides waking up in the hospital is telling Reynolds to make sure that they don’t give you anything stronger than a Tylenol (that didn’t happen).

When you regain consciousness it’s to the sound of voices, two you recognize and one you don’t.

“She should be coming out of the anesthesia soon,” the recognizable voice says, a doctor maybe. “In addition to her mild concussion, there were some moderate tears to her deltoid that were repaired in surgery. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about the fractures to the humeral head as we can’t cast the area.”

“She’s not going to like the sound of that,” you hear Alex say, “Not going to like that at all.”

“Unfortunately, whether she likes it or not doesn’t really matter. She needs to be in the sling for a few weeks at least,” the doctor says.

“Alright, thanks doc,” Reynolds' loud voice makes the headache you forgot you had worse. “Don’t worry Alex, she’s been through worse. Besides, the medal will make her feel better.”

“Not now Andrew.”

The door to your room opens a tiny bit and through squinted eyes, you watch as both your wife and mentor slip through the crack, closing the door behind them.

When they get close enough that you can make out the details on their faces, you stick your hand out to Alex and attempt to pull her into the hospital bed with you.

She doesn’t let you though and instead releases your hand to pull the only chair closer to the bed.

“Not so fast, hotshot,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“I told Andrew to tell you that you didn’t need to come all the way out here. You should be at home resting,” you tell her.

“And I told him that I was already on my way to the airport.”

“And I told you,” Reynolds says, frowning at you, “that I wasn’t going to risk having your wife mad at me.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Now here’s your medal, silver’s not too bad considering you knocked yourself out,” he says, placing the item on the edge of the bed. “I’ll see you around bro.”

Both you and Alex watch as he quickly exits the room, moving sort of like his ass is on fire, and leaving the two of you alone.

The second the door fully shuts behind him you turn back to Alex and see more than her sigh deeply.

“How do you feel…”

“Why weren’t you…”

You both try to speak at the same time.

“No, you go ahead,” you tell her.

“Well, first of all, were you just about to ask how I’m feeling while you are literally laying in a hospital bed,” she asks.

You shrug somewhat sheepishly and say, “I mean you just flew halfway across the country and I know you haven’t been feeling the best lately.”

“Y/N/N, you’re ridiculous.”

“Anyway,” she says, rolling her eyes at you, “Why weren’t you wearing a helmet? You can only smash your head so many times before the damage is irreversible and I don’t like constantly being called to hospitals wondering if this time is the one.”

You take a second to let her words sink in.

She’s right.

Ever since the two of you reconnected and subsequently got together roughly 4 years ago, you’ve been injured quite a bit.

This is your 3rd concussion and 4th broken. You’ve also ruptured your achilles, cracked a few ribs, had one of your lungs collapse, and gotten over 50 stitches from various gashes gained from getting cut open skating some sketchy spots.

That’s not even counting the smaller ones that you haven’t told her about, like when you sprained your ankle visiting her during the Rio Olympics.

But admitting that Alex is right has never been something you’re great at.

So instead you just scoot over in the bed and ask her to lay down with you again.

It takes a bit of pleading but you do get her to join you and when she does, you’re quick to wiggle around into a position that's comfortable but still allows you to hold her.

With the knowledge that your current position makes it impossible for her to see your face, you can’t help but crack a joke.

“C'mon, babe, you know that helmets are for hills and hills only,” you say, finally answering her question, only to immediately recoil as she pinches you. “Okay, I’m sorry. I know I really freaked you out today and I hate that I keep forcing you to come see me in hospitals. And I…” she cuts you off.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” she protests, keeping her voice light. “I love you even though you seem dead set on destroying your body.”

“It’s not really on purpose,” you say, pulling her impossibly closer. “I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes when I skate it’s like an out-of-body experience. Nothing matters except how good it’s gonna feel when I roll away. I can barely even think straight when I’m on my board but that obviously means I don’t think about how my choices affect others and that’s not fair to you.”

When you finish speaking, the first thing you hear from your wife is a sigh that can only be described as annoyed.

“What,” you ask.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.”

“Babe,” your voice is indignant, and too loud even to your own ears.

“I’m sorry but you’re so dumb,” she says. “I’m not concerned because of how it affects me, I care about how it affects you. You’ve been acting strangely all summer and I don’t really want to see where this path takes you.”

Once again Alex is right.

And her pointing out your recent odd behavior, something you hadn’t noticed yourself, is like a bucket of ice water over your head.

Taking a deep breath, you nod even though she can’t see you and say, “I think I need to call my sponsor.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Unfortunately, between your concussion and having to travel back to Orlando, the call to your sponsor had to wait a few days.

And in those few days, you begin to really notice the behaviors Alex had mentioned.

Even before your injury, you were stressed and anxious but you had ignored it, believing it was tied to the comps and upcoming deadlines.

But now with those things mostly out of the way, the intensity of these feelings is familiar and you aren’t very fond of the places you ended up the last few times you felt like this.

And the isolation of being trapped at home, unable to do much more than stare at the walls and wait for Alex to get back from training, only made those feelings stronger.

When you’re finally able to make that call and the first words finally come out of your mouth, it’s as though the weight of the world comes off your shoulders.

Recovery isn’t an instant process but you do instantly feel a little better as you explain your recent behaviors that you now recognize as somewhat erratic.

And when the call ends, you have a list of dates, times, and locations so you can go to a meeting whenever you need to.

The only thing that's really left for you to do is talk to your wife when she gets home but that might be the hardest part.

So you wait, completing as many boring household tasks as you can to make the time pass more quickly.

It doesn’t really work that well because you only have one arm to work with. And you're just unlucky enough that it's your dominant hand out of commission.

You’re in the middle of unloading the dishwasher when you hear the front door open and shut.

It doesn’t take long for Alex to find you and in the back of your mind, you know that the only reason she didn’t shout your name across the house like she normally does is because of your lingering headache.

“Hey babe,” you hear her greet as you bend over to place a pot in its designated cabinet.

“Hi,” you respond, standing back up and turning to face her, only to see that she’s already taken a seat at the island. “Oh, that’s the serious conversation chair,” you note, going to lean on the counter opposite her.

“I mean it is serious but it’s nothing bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, do you mind if I go first,” you ask, “Mine isn’t bad either but I finally got around to giving Noah a call.”

When you say that it's almost as though you can feel the energy in the room shift.

“How did that go?”

“It definitely went.”

“Are you going to elaborate or…”

Sighing deeply, you shuffle your feet, focusing on the way your socks slip over the tile.

“Apparently, when you’re really stressed and overly tired your brain chemistry changes,” you tell her, now looking up at the ceiling. “Which makes people look for things to relieve the stress, which can be a bad thing for addicts. And between the video parts, qualifiers, and flying all over the place, I haven’t actually had a chance to sit down and think, much less attend a meeting. But now, when I would’ve had a chance to, I can barely be in a room with lights on for more than 15 minutes.”

There’s a moment of silence before Alex responds and as it passes, you can feel your heart sink further and further into your stomach. This is the moment that she finally decides that being with you is far more work than it's worth.

Your downward spiral is broken by the sound of her voice.

“I guess that means that we have to come up with ways for you to handle stress when you're busy,” Alex says, “because you’re only about to get busier.”

“What? No, I’m not, the next two competitions are at the end of the month and I literally can’t skate for the next month and a half.”

“3 months,” she shoots back, “and yes you will.”

“You’re not making any sense Alex.”

Alex gets up from her seat and makes her way toward you. Before you know it, she’s reaching out for your good hand, which to this point has had a death grip on the counter behind you, not that you’ve noticed.

With a confused look on your face, you watch as she pulls your hand to rest against her stomach before covering it with both of her own.

Still confused, it takes you longer than you’d like to admit to figure out why she would do that.

It’s only when you remember the seemingly never-ending nausea Alex has been dealing with that you connect the dots.

“Oh shit.”

#uswnt fanfic #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan

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hisui-dreamer · 10 months ago

Text

forgetful eel

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: floyd is not only forgetful, but also unpredictable

Tags: fluff, school life, floyd leech is a silly eel

Word count: 753

Notes: more floyd fluff!! this idea popped into my head and i had to write it out haha

Masterlist

A gentle embrace lingered in the air, whispering promises of blossoming wonders and sunlit afternoons. Cherry blossoms unfurled delicate petals like confetti, painting the trees in hues ranging from blushing pinks to ethereal whites. Blades of emerald-green grass bathed in the tender caress of ethereal sunlight, shimmering with a luminescence kissed by dew.

The unmistakable arrival of spring break infused the school's halls with an atmosphere of tangible excitement and animated chatter. In every corner, students were animatedly discussing their carefully crafted plans to make the most of the precious holiday ahead.

It wouldn't be the first time you would stay in Ramshackle during a study break. The memories of the tumultuous winter break with Scarabia's vice-housewarden still linger vividly in your mind. Regrettably, this time around, even Scarabia and Octavinelle would remain vacant.

Meaning, it would be at least two weeks before you could see Floyd again.

Well, at least he seemed to be upset about that too.

"Shrimpy~ I'm gonna miss ya so much~"

A rueful smile plays on your lips, accustomed to hearing that familiar line every time he leaves Ramshackle to return to his dorm. But this time, a subtle pang of loneliness pierces through, realizing that you won't have the chance to see him again the very next day.

You return his hug by wrapping your arms around him, your hand reaching up to cradle his head, smoothing it down in a comforting gesture that's almost become a routine.

"I'm going to miss you too, Floyd", you pull back slightly so you can meet his eyes. "But you'll call me whenever you can, yeah?"

His pout intensifies, but then he tightens his grip on you, embracing you warmly. "Of course, I will! I'll show ya all the cool stuff back home!"

You surrender to the comfort of his embrace, basking in the musky scent of rain that clings to him and the inviting warmth he provides. The tranquillity is abruptly disrupted by approaching footsteps. A smooth voice interjects, breaking the tender moment.

"Floyd, pardon the interruption, but it's time for us to depart," Jade announces, a wry smile on his face.

Floyd tightens his hold on you, grumbling, "Ugh... Jade, you're such a buzzkill," yet he eventually releases you from his embrace, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Guess it's time to go. But hey," he adds, pressing his forehead to yours, "ya better think of me lots, okay? Cuz I'll be thinking of ya always." He giggles.

"I'll be thinking of you every minute!" you respond, joining in his laughter.

"I'll be thinking of ya every second!" Floyd laughs, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he grabs his bags. "See ya soon, Shrimpy!" he declares, a warmth in his eyes reflecting the affection shared between you, and follows Jade into the mirror.

You linger before the mirror, unmoving even after his figure has disappeared into the mirror. Floyd is many things, and one of those things is forgetful.

In a matter of seconds, your beloved walks out of the mirror, his demeanour marked by a sense of urgency.

"I forgot something!"

"What did you forget? The souvenirs for your parents? Or maybe your textbook?" you ask, your thoughts racing through various scenarios, a bemused smile dancing upon your lips.

Floyd's eyes widen in realization. "Oh, right! I did forget that."

You arch an eyebrow, curious about his wording. "Huh? Did you forget something else?"

Floyd hums for a moment, his face lighting up with mischief. "Ah-ha! I forgot my goodbye kiss!" he declares with a mischievous grin.

You blink, a mix of confusion and amusement evident on your face. Before you can react, Floyd closes the distance between you, leaning in with a sly expression. "Yeahh, can't forget that," he whispered, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, lingering kiss.

The fleeting moment of surprise melts as a pair of smiles bloom simultaneously as you kiss each other. As he gently withdraws, a genuine smile graces his features, and his gaze locks onto yours, radiating a warmth that envelops your entire being.

"Alright, I'm really off now," Floyd declares, playfully tousling your hair, his voice carrying a lightness as he steps back, giving you one last lingering look.

You chuckle at his antics. "Make sure you remember everything this time, you silly eel."

Floyd laughs, leaving you with a final peck on the cheek. "I'll do my best. Love ya, Shrimpy!" With that, he disappears into the mirror once more, leaving you in the mirror chamber, shaking your head in loving exasperation.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#for those keeping track yes floyd did end up forgetting his textbook #but its okay he'll use jade's/azul's hahaha #twstnexus #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd leech #twst floyd #twst floyd x reader

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sentientgolfball · 2 months ago

Text

Devotion

Part 1/3 of how Rain and Dew got together and perhaps also their first time

Read here or on Ao3

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Before Dew could become fire he had to make sure the new water ghoul would fit the needs of the Ghost Project.

Behind heavy wooden doors decorated with golden sigils stands four beings dressed in uniform. They have been working all evening for the ritual to come. When the full moon is at its highest point, a ghoul will be summoned. Dew is not entirely sure he is ready for it. He has only been Topside for a little over a year yet once that water ghoul pops out of the circle, he will be a mentor. He swallows thickly, the mask and the cloud of incense making it hard to breathe. He cannot be getting nervous now, this is his idea after all.

He is the one who went to Sister Imperator proudly claiming he will be the fire ghoul they need. He is the one who twisted the Clergy's arm until they agreed to do the elemental transition, refusing to heed the warning of Delta. He is the one who agreed to wait, just long enough to make sure the new water ghoul is a good fit before he is burned down to his very core to be rebirthed. At the time it seemed like a great deal, he would get to become fire and thus be closer to the Morning Star and all he had to do was make sure the new water ghoul could pluck a few strings. Now that he is staring at the summoning circle though, he is starting to realize he may have bitten off more than he can chew.

He shifts on his feet, the tip of his finned tail twitching between his legs. He vaguely knows about summonings, he was present for Mountain’s after all, but this one feels different. It somehow feels more intimate, knowing whoever pops out of the Pits will be his replacement. Knowing that he alone is going to be responsible for deciding if they will fit the needs of the Ghost Project; if not the Clergy will proceed with a fire ghoul summoning. He is solely responsible for not just his fate, but the fate of someone he has not even met yet. It makes his stomach churn and he has to fight to keep his fins from flaring.

He tries to focus on what is happening around him. Anything to take his mind away from how in a few short moments everything is going to change. He watches Omega and the Sibling of Devotion converse as they prepare the necessary ingredients. Salt water, fresh water, rain water, and moon water all ready to be poured over the sigils painted on the floor. Knowing this is exactly how he was brought Topside is a weird feeling. He pictures Mist standing in his spot; was she just as nervous as he is now? Probably not. She was a Ministry ghoul long before she was involved with the Ghost Project. Who knows how many summonings she’s seen, how many water ghouls she’s helped adjust to a new world? Is she angry that he is here instead of her? He hopes not. If he messes this all up he will need her. He always needs her.

His attention is stolen when the sound of muttering fills his webbed ears. Dew glances to his left to see Cardinal Copia quickly flipping through a gigantic book that looks like it is ready to turn to dust. He looks about as nervous as Dew feels, eyes wide while he scans over the ancient passages. He huffs as he watches him nearly drop the tome. He may not have known Terzo for long, but he still cannot believe this is the best the Clergy has for a replacement.

Copia must feel Dew staring because he looks up from the book, catching his eyes behind the silver mask. Dew tenses when he closes the book and walks over to him. He offers Dew a weak smile.

“It is exciting, no?”

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” Dew says bluntly.

“Ahah well yes but ehh it is still exciting.” He fidgets with his hands as he talks.

“Didn’t you summon those air ghoulettes like last week?”

“Si. Yes I did.”

“Then why are you so?” Dew gestures to Copia.

Copia sighs, “the rituals are easy to ehh mess up. I do not think I could live with myself if I accidentally destroyed an innocent being.”

Dew scoffs at the word innocent, but he doesn’t say anything. There is a long moment of silence before Copia speaks again.

“Are you not afraid?”

“Afraid?”

“Si. I am well aware of your ehh deal with Sister.”

“Why would I be afraid? All I have to do is make sure the new guy is competent enough to hold a bass,” Dew says with more force than he intended. He does not understand why the Cardinal felt the need to approach him. The longer this conversation goes on the more Dew wants to yell at him to fuck off. He doesn’t need some sweaty human trying to be friendly when there is so much on his mind.

“Apologies I ehh I suppose you are right. Your task is much easier than mine.” Copia offers him a lopsided smile.

Dew glares at him through the mask. Easier? What a joke. All he has to do is provide a little blood and maybe say a few words. Dew has to do everything else. Of course he’s afraid. Who cares if the ritual is easy to screw up, it’s even easier to ruin a person. A faulty ritual can be blamed on a number of factors, but a person? Dew would be the only one to blame. Why did he think he was cut out for this? He should not have taken this deal. He should have demanded he be made into a fire ghoul so someone more experienced could be there for this new water ghoul.

He cannot back out now though. Omega takes a deep breath, the scent of ozone filling the air when he exhales. The moon is at Her peak. It is time. Dew shuffles back into a corner, staying out of the way so the others can work. He is only here for formality. Copia, Omega, and the Devotion will be doing the actual rites. He is thankful really, he has no idea how much help he would be with the moon calling out to his own water. He can feel it responding to Her presence, but he cannot give in. He has to be present. He cracks his neck, eyes following the bustle around the room.

The blinds that were previously drawn tight are thrown open, allowing the moonlight to stream in. Copia makes quick work of extinguishing the candles in the room so that it’s only Her light. The Devotion steps up to the circle of sigils. In one hand she has a leather bound book, in the other is one of the jars of water. As she begins to read the ancient passage Omega’s voice joins her. He repeats the same words only in Infernal instead of English. Dew’s ear twitches at the sound of the familiar language. It is different from what he spoke when he was in the Pits, yet close enough to make something in him twist. He wonders if this is some type of quintessence dialect of Infernal or perhaps some ancient form of the language.

As the Devotion finishes the passage she begins to pour the first jar of water. She starts at the first sigil, letting the contents spill counter clockwise to create a circle. She grabs the next jar from the stone altar, not pausing as she starts the next passage. Omega’s voice continues to drone along with her as sparks of quintessence begin to ripple over his body. She draws the first two lines of a pentagram with the next jar. The process repeats until every last drop of water has been used. Each time a new line is drawn Dew can feel something. It’s heavy. It’s strong. It sits in his gut like a stone at the bottom of a river. He doesn’t remember feeling like this when Mountain was summoned.

When the last jar is emptied Copia approaches the circle of water. Omega picks up the dagger that had been sitting on the altar. He holds it in both hands, giving it his infernal blessing before handing it over. Like a mirror of who he was moments ago, Copia takes it from him with steady hands. He removes the glove on his left hand. There’s already a cut on his palm, just barely healed over. He brings the dagger to his palm, the edge placed right over the mark. He mutters a prayer in Italian before drawing the blade quickly across his skin. Dew’s nostrils flare when the metallic scent of blood hits his nose. His fangs throb. Every fiber of his being is telling him to go drink his fill, until there’s nothing left. He has to dig his claws into his arm just to keep his head clear. He will not be the reason this ritual fails.

Copia turns his hand down, letting his blood drip into the center of the water pentagram. Omega and the Devotion finish the final passage as the ingredients combine. It's silent. The only sound is Dew’s breathing from under the mask. They wait. The tension is palpable as the seconds turn to minutes. Nobody moves.

Copia opens his mouth to speak right as a fat raindrop lands in his eye. He gasps and brings his non-bloodied hand up to wipe it away. He looks to the ceiling as more begin to fall. Everyone in the room begins to relax as the drops pick up in intensity. Everyone except for Dew. Something is wrong. He can feel it. There’s something in the water. Something that’s not supposed to be there. As the shower turns into a storm his stomach churns. He rips his mask off and rushes over to the circle.

“Close it!” He shouts over the pounding of raindrops.

“Stay back. An active circle is volatile.” Omega holds an arm against his chest.

Dew pushes on it, “You have to close it now!”

“Dewdrop why would we—“ Omega’s pupils dilate when it finally hits him. The taste of something else.

He turns back towards the circle fully prepared to force it closed. But he’s too late. The drops begin to swirl, the shape of a body begins to form. Dew watches with a mix of awe and horror as the ghoul fully materializes. The moment it happens the ghoul falls to the floor. Unconscious. His dark hair is wet and clinging to his face. The bioluminescent stripes on his shoulders and tail are pulsing with each breath. An oceanic variant. His gills are flared, they flutter each time a raindrop hits them. Dew stares at him. He can’t look away. He doesn’t want to look away. He wants to reach out and touch him. He’s so enraptured he doesn’t notice the black smoke spiral that’s formed in the circle.

He finally looks up when the sound of sizzling fills the air. A smoky hand has reached through, its claws digging into the wood of the floor. A head appears next. Most of its features are obscured by the thick cloud of smoke, but Dew can smell the fear. Omega scoops up the unconscious water ghoul as a torso starts to form. Dew is frozen in place. He doesn’t know what to do as this creature made of smoke takes form. He’s not even entirely sure it’s a ghoul.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as the thing finally pulls itself all the way through the closing circle. His gills flare when its featureless face turns towards him. It takes a step forward, hand extended. Dew doesn’t know if he should try to fight it or run from it. He does know he needs to protect that water ghoul though. He lets the thing approach him, slowly backing away from it. If it keeps its attention on him then maybe the Devotion will have a chance to come up with a way to banish it.

It doesn’t work that way though. A sharp hiss cuts through the panicked silence. Dew whips his head towards the sound only to be met with a vicious sight. The water ghoul is awake and pissed. Omega is clutching his forearm. There’s blood staining the ghoul’s mouth, dripping down his chin. Copia tries to get to Omega’s side but the ghoul swipes at him when he moves. He snarls at both of them, showing off rows of serrated teeth.

The commotion captures the attention of the smoke creature. It slowly turns towards the water ghoul and Dew panics. He tries to get its focus back on him; hissing and calling out to it but to no avail. He looks towards the Devotion only to see her back turned. She has candles lit, pouring oil over a small silver plate and muttering something quickly. Dew curses and snaps his head back towards the creature just in time to see one of the residual raindrops drip onto its outstretched hand. It stops moving when it hits, a strangled sound emanating from it accompanied by the sound of sizzling. Dew’s eyebrows raise.

“You don’t like water do you?”

He looks up at the ceiling to see it’s still slick from the initial summoning, occasional drops falling. He swallows before closing his eyes, letting his element come to life. He focuses on what energy remains, tapping into it to recreate the downpour. He can feel the pull. He’s never been more thankful for a full moon in his entire existence. He’s not sure he’d be able to do it without Her. He furrows his brow, extending his hand towards the ceiling. When he’s sure he has a hold on the water that remains he quickly pulls his hand down almost as if he was pulling on a rope. All at once a sheen of water splashes down making a loud splat when it hits the floor.

The creature falls to the ground, the same strangled sound filling the air. It’s barely audible over the sound of crackling, like water poured on sun baked pavement. Dew opens his eyes to see steam rising from its body as it writhes on the ground. His brief moment of victory melts away when the strange sound begins to morph into something more familiar. A scream. Dew watches in horror as the smoke begins to dissipate, revealing the figure of a ghoul.

He’s not a water ghoul, that’s for sure. At first Dew assumes he’s quintessence, the grayish purple hue of his skin standing out. But then he notices the patches of shimmering gold all over his body. A hybrid maybe?

He takes a tentative step towards him. He’s still shaking, head tucked between his legs and forehead pressing against the floor. Dew doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but what else is new? He just knows he needs to do something. He crouches down next to his huddled up form. He hesitates for a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder. The ghoul stops shaking, slowly raising his head to look at him. Dew sucks in a breath. His eyes are black and white. He’s not a hybrid. He’s a multi ghoul.

Is it over? His raspy voice whispers in Infernal.

Dew doesn’t get the chance to respond because the next thing he knows Omega is yelling at him.

“Dewdrop move!”

He turns just in time to see the water ghoul struggle out of Omega’s hold. He launches himself at the multi ghoul, eyes wide and lips pulled back in a snarl. Dew is knocked back, landing hard on the floor. The water ghoul snaps his fangs dangerously close to the multi’s face. He’s only stopped by the firm hands pressing against his chest and shoulders. They struggle against each other for a moment before the multi makes a move. As quick as lightning, he traps one of the water ghoul’s arms against his side. He bridges his hips with a hiss, rolling them over in one smooth motion. He wraps his arms around the water ghoul, keeping him tight to his chest as he flails.

The multi ghoul’s eyes begin to shift; black and white melts away replaced by yellow and orange. The scent of cinnamon and campfire fills the room as the multi’s fire sparks to life. Dew feels sick. He jumps up, fully prepared to join the fight.

“Wait.” Omega comes to stand beside him.

Dew looks between him and the tangle of ghoul on the floor, “What do you mean wait? They’re going to kill each other!”

“No they are not. Look.” Omega motions with a flick of his tail, hand still tightly wrapped around his injured arm.

Dew turns to look at them again, stomach still churning. The water ghoul is still struggling, but slowly he begins to settle until eventually he stops all together. He visibly relaxes, resigning himself to the hold of the multi ghoul. The multi doesn’t make a move to retaliate any of the aggression. He just sits there keeping him in the warmth of his fire.

“What in the absolute fuck?” Dew narrows his eyes.

“You learn not to question the things that stop a scared ghoul.” Omega shrugs and takes a step forward. There’s a gleam of purple from the holes of his mask. He stares at the two new ghouls for a moment before a satisfied hum rumbles through his chest.

“Alright Cardinal Copia. They are your responsibility now.”

“Are you…are you positive?” He looks pale and his hands have a slight shake to them.

“Quite.”

He swallows, “Very well then…Dewdrop would you mind ehh…?”

Dew jumps a little when his name is called. With all the excitement he completely forgot he actually has to do something now. He shuffles over to the ghouls on the floor, staring down awkwardly at them. He offers the water ghoul a lopsided smile before sticking his hand out. The water ghoul sniffs it before taking it. Dew hoists him to his feet. He’s taller than him, more broad. His eyes never leave Dew. He looks at him with an intensity that makes him feel like he’s going to be eaten alive. But there’s also something else in his gaze, something Dew can’t quite place over the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Curiosity maybe? He’s not sure. He tries to ignore it, he has to at least pretend he can handle his new task. He can’t freak out just because he’s being stared at.

Dew keeps his eyes trained on Copia as he tentatively approaches. The water ghoul doesn’t look away from Dew until Copia is right in front of him. He looks at the Cardinal with a blank expression, waiting to see what he does next. Dew just hopes whatever it is it doesn't involve more fang.

Copia clears his throat, “You gave us quite the scare there pesciolino.”

The water ghoul blinks at him.

There’s a beat of silence.

“Ehh heh right…well…I would like to be the one to formally introduce you to the Ministry. You will be joining us in the Ghost Project. Helping spread the Old One’s message, si.”

Silence.

Copia shifts, wringing his hands, “Si okay how about a name? A new name for your new life? You caused a rather big storm so…”

Dew holds his breath. His naming. Sure, he saw Mountain receive his name, but that doesn’t change the fact that this moment carries so much weight. This is a name that will echo through every hall in the Ministry, through every branch of the Church, to every corner of the globe. The Cardinal will offer him the name and he can choose to accept it or not. If not, he will receive a placeholder title until he finds the perfect thing that fits. Names hold power, after all. Dew still remembers how it felt to receive his. How everything just clicked into place when Terzo addressed him. He glances at the water ghoul from the corner of his eye.

“…we will call you Rain.”

Something in his gaze shifts when Copia speaks the name. It’s almost imperceptible the way his eyes soften, but Dew notices. He can’t help the little smile that spreads across his face. Rain. Rain. Dew likes it. Rain is unpredictable, it can be a torrential downpour or a soft shower. It’s fitting for the ghoul that lashed out at everything that moved only to be stopped by a hug. A rather violent, unorthodox hug but still.

“Welcome Topside Rain.” Dew finally turns to look at him.

“What about me? What are you going to do with me?” The multi ghoul chimes in. He’s still sitting on the floor, propped up on his hands.

There’s a beat of silence as everyone turns their attention towards him. It’s a unique situation, summoning multiple ghouls at the same time. Though the Cardinal seems to have a talent for it considering he somehow managed to get two air ghoulettes out of one circle. But that was different. Two of the same element can be useful. It’s not exactly difficult to get a second set of keys or find a job around the Ministry if one doesn’t make the cut. A multi ghoul though? It’s unheard of. The only other multi ghouls that exist within the Ministry are the Special and Cowbell. That Chimera is a freak of nature even by ghoul standards. Hiding in the walls, only coming out to roam the halls in the dead of night or when the Clergy needs its assistance. Cowbell is just an earth ghoul for all intents and purposes. He himself did not even realize he was a multi ghoul until he came Topside.

There is no procedure for multi ghouls. There is no standard. They are rare and unpredictable.

“I am fully prepared to do a banishment ritual,” the Devotion breaks the silence.

The multi ghoul’s eyes go wide and he tenses. Dew holds his breath. That decision is up to Copia. He alone can decide whether or not to keep him Topside or throw him back like a fish that is too small. Dew has no reason to be concerned for this stranger, but the Pit is not exactly a kind place. Maybe he did have a good life Down Below, but considering he risked destroying himself to claw through a summoning circle Dew is confident in assuming it was not.

Thankfully, Copia looks just as disturbed as the multi ghoul at the suggestion. He walks over to him and holds out his hand. The multi hesitates for a moment before taking it. Copia helps him to his feet. Dew stares a little dumbfounded at his size. He’s taller than Aether. Probably close to Mountain’s height when he’s glamoured. Suddenly he does not feel so small standing next to Rain.

Even when the multi is stable on his feet, Copia does not drop his hand. He looks up at him, a gentle smile on his face. He clasps his other hand overtop the multi’s.

“We are not going to just get rid of you. If you made it through then you are meant to be here. We will find a place for, si. I can promise you that,” Copia speaks earnestly.

The multi ghoul returns his smile, relief flooding his features.

“What do you say? Will you join us…Shadow?”

He freezes and purses his lips, “Shadow?”

“Si, a new name for—“

“Yeah yeah new name for my new life I heard that part, but I am nobody’s shadow.”

Dew has to bite his tongue to not laugh at the look of dread on Copia’s face. Rain raises an eyebrow at him. Omega nudges him when he walks past him.

“Don’t worry Cardinal Copia, this was bound to happen with the amount of ghouls you have been summoning. Not every name can be a winner.” Omega approaches the two.

“Since you rejected your summoning name you will be given a placeholder until you decide on something for yourself.”

He turns to look at Omega.

“You will be known by your element. You are Multi.”

“And I get to pick my own name?” He asks.

“Correct. This is just a formality.” Omega confirms.

He shrugs, “Alright I can live with that.”

“Welcome Topside Multi.” Omega nods at him.

With that the two new summons are given their ceremonial robes, a simple garment made of black silk, and the remains of the ritual are cleaned. Four becomes one as each group splits to take care of what comes next. Copia and Multi leave to visit with the Clergy. They need to be informed of the additional ghoul so they can figure out where he fits in. Omega leaves for the infirmary to get his arm patched up. As powerful as quintessence ghouls are, even they can’t fix themselves. The Devotion stays behind to oversee the cleaning. Dew and Rain make their way to the Papal ghoul den.

Dew speaks the entire time, the need to fill the silence evident with the way he points out every little statue or stained glass window they pass. At this point he has no idea what he is saying, but he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He glances at Rain occasionally, trying to gauge his reaction to the world around him. His expression remains neutral and Dew takes it as a win, at least he didn’t seem unhappy or scared.

When they get back to the den it is empty, or at the very least no one is in the common room. Dew can smell one of the air ghoulettes nearby, the citrus and honey tells him it’s the shorter one. Cumulus he thinks is her name. He leads Rain into the hallway, turning down the right side. They walk past Aether’s door, stopping in front of the next one. Dew turns the knob and motions for Rain to follow him inside.

The room is furnished but devoid of any personality. There is a queen sized bed, desk, nightstand, and vanity dresser. This is the first time Dew has been in here since he cleaned everything out. This used to be his room. It is one of the only rooms in the ghoul den that has a bathtub designed for soaking. The other one is in Mountain’s room and he couldn’t exactly give his up, he doesn’t fit into regular tubs. When the decision to make Dew fire was finalized he had to move out so the new water ghoul would have the ability to soak without having to trek to the bathing pools. It feels weird giving his old space to a stranger, but he can’t complain. Soon enough he will have no use for hiding underwater.

“So…this is your room. I know it looks super boring right now, but once you start to find things you like you can do whatever you want to it.” Dew floats around the space.

Rain sits on the edge of the bed, a noise leaving his throat when he feels the plush mattress.

“Oh yeah, the beds are so nice. Beats sleeping on moss by a long shot. But if you think that’s cool you should check out the—“

“You can leave now.”

Dew snaps his mouth shut when Rain’s deep voice fills his ears. There is a beat of silence as Dew processes the words.

“What?”

“You can leave.”

Dew blinks. He wants him to leave. It’s barely been an hour of Rain being Topside and he already wants Dew to leave. Has he seriously fucked it up already? That has to be a record even for him. If Rain does not even want him around to settle in, then how is he supposed to figure out if he’s what the Ghost Project needs? He swallows thickly, mind racing with what he should do, with what Mist would do. The way Rain’s dark eyes look at him though tells him he should just listen.

“Uh yeah…well if you need anything I’m uh the door on the right.” Dew just nods and then walks out, closing the door behind him.

He stands outside of Rain’s room for a moment, letting what just happened wash over him. He sighs and walks to the common room. When he turns the corner he sees Mountain and Aether sitting on the couch. He forces a small smile when they notice him enter.

“So how’d it go?” Aether asks, scooting over and patting the space between him and Mountain. Dew can tell he’s tense just by the tone of his voice.

“You patched up Omega didn’t you?” Dew asks as he walks over and settles between the two bigger ghouls.

“Not like anyone else could,” Aether sighs, “Is he really that aggressive?”

“No I mean I hope not. He wasn’t as bad as the air ghoulettes, but well you saw Omega’s arm.”

“Where is he now?” Mountain asks, taking a sip from a steaming mug.

“He’s just…in his room. Hanging out I guess?” Dew shifts to slump against him.

“You guess?” Aether raises an eyebrow.

Dew groans, rubbing his hand over his face, “I dunno he kicked me out the moment he could!”

The two bigger ghouls look at each other. They stay silent, letting Dew continue.

“What did I do wrong? I mean his first words Topside were telling me to fuck off.”

“I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong Dewbug,” Mountain assures him.

“Yeah,” Aether runs a hand through Dew’s hair, “Summonings are rough and we have no idea what was happening to him before. He just needs to get used to everything. I mean Mountain didn’t even speak until we were halfway to our first show.”

Mountain rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his mug.

“So I should just what? Let him be alone?” Dew huffs. That doesn’t seem like something a good mentor is supposed to do.

“Not necessarily,” Mountain hums, “but at least give him time to settle.”

He sighs and closes his eyes as Aether’s fingers continue to rub against his scalp. They’re probably right, he just needs to let Rain come to him or anyone else for that matter. He can still recall his own summoning. He was always so on edge, didn’t trust a single person. He didn’t start to feel comfortable until Mist took him out to the lake and swam with him. He still thinks about what they talked about under the waves when he gets stressed. But Rain isn’t him. Maybe he does just need to be left alone and he’ll sort himself out? The thought alone makes something in Dew twists, but he shoves it down.

“What’s his name?” Mountain eventually asks.

“Rain,” Dew says, eyes still closed.

Mountain doesn’t get the chance to respond before the doors of the den swing open, amber and spice filling the air. Dew can feel Aether shift around to look at the sudden intrusion. Mountain wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer with a growl in his throat.

“And that’s Multi,” Dew supplies, completely unfazed.

“A pleasure.” He grins at the three ghouls on the couch.

“Who are you?” Aether rumbles.

“That little sprite there already answered that question.” He points at Dew.

Aether and Mountain both turn their attention towards Dew for answers. He shrugs.

“Copia has a knack for double catches.”

“He’s new too?” Mountain glances back up at him.

“Yes. He is.” Another voice rings out.

Cirrus enters the den, stopping just next to Multi.

“I cannot believe you let a new summon wander around in the middle of the night by himself,” she snaps.

Dew flinches, a sudden pang of guilt flaring.

“Sorry…” he mumbles. He feels like he should apologize. He was the only one of them who was present at the summonings. He just assumed Copia would take things over but it appears he was wrong.

Cirrus just shakes her head before making her way through the common room and turning down the left side of the hallway.

“You know I think I like her.” Multi’s eyes track her as she leaves.

The three ghouls stay silent. Dew thinks she’s intense, though he supposes that’s all she knows how to be. He doesn’t know much about her or Cumulus, but he does know that Cirrus used to be the leader of her flock. Up until a week ago she was responsible for the lives and safety of who knows how many ghouls and now she gets a memory foam mattress. He tries not to take it to heart when she snaps, just like Aether told him, but some days it feels personal. Maybe he has a talent for new summons hating him?

Mountain sighs and nuzzles his face into the top of Dew’s head, “It’s late. I’m going to turn in. Do you want me to show you to your room Multi?”

He shakes his head and plops down on the loveseat, “Nah. Think I’ll hang out here.”

“I’m gonna head out too,” Aether kisses Dew’s forehead, “Omega wants me to work the early shift tomorrow.”

Dew feels a stab of disappointment as both ghouls mumble their goodnights to him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with Multi, it's just that he wants the comfort that only those two can provide. It has been a very long and exhausting day and he wants his packmates. Though Multi is his pack now he supposes. But he doesn’t know Multi. Not like how he knows Aether and Mountain. Sure he could follow one of them back to their nest, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’s too wired from everything that has happened. He would just be alone, replaying the last few hours over and over as the other slept soundly. So he stays put, stretched out on the couch while Multi stares at him.

“I never thanked you.” Multi is the first to break the silence.

“Thanked me?” Dew cracks his eyes open to look at him.

“Yeah back in that room when I was all…” he gestures vaguely at his body, “you saved me.”

This grabs Dew’s attention. He sits up, turning his body to face Multi.

“I was trying to kill you. How in the fuck did I save you?”

“Well I like to think it’s obvious what my strongest elements are.”

He’s not wrong. His grayish purple skin and the splotches of gold scream quintessence and fire. But that’s where multi ghouls are different from hybrids. They have every element flowing through their veins, not just two. Sure there are imbalances, one or two or even three elements can be more present than others, but still, they are all in there to some capacity.

“Uhhuh.” Dew nods.

“Can’t feel my earth and water for shit. Never could, probably never will.”

“And so you jumped into a summoning meant for a water ghoul?” Dew deadpans.

“Had nothing better to do.” He shrugs, fang filled grin still on his face.

“Oh so you’re stupid. That’s good to know.”

“I like to think of it more as willing to take new opportunities,” he laughs, “but it did hurt like nothing else. Could feel myself falling apart, that is until you dumped all that water on me.”

It’s silent for a moment as the revelation hangs in the air. Dew shifts in his seat. He’s never been good with praise or gratitude. It always makes him feel like he’s lying, like he somehow tricked whoever into believing he's a responsible and competent ghoul.

“Well it’s good to know at least one new summon doesn’t hate me.” Dew tries to joke.

“Who? Rain? Please, that little fishy was all by himself when The Light snatched him. Who knows how long it’s been since he's seen another ghoul?”

All by himself. Somehow knowing that doesn’t make Dew feel any better. Actually, it sort of makes him feel worse. Rain was presumably left alone in the Pits and even now that he’s Topside he’s alone. Dew has half a mind to knock on his door, just to see if maybe he has changed his mind in the last hour. He doesn’t though. Rain was the one who asked to be left alone. Maybe he prefers it that way? It’s not uncommon for oceanic water ghouls to live by themselves. That would be just great if they happened to summon a loner for a band position.

“So…how did things go with the Clergy?” Dew asks. He doesn’t want to think about possibilities anymore.

“You’re looking at an official member of the Ghost Project…whatever that means.”

“No shit they actually let you join? Just like that?”

“What? Didn’t think those humans would like me?”

“It took the Cardinal two days to convince them to let Cumulus actually in instead of just as backup. How the fuck did you manage that?”

“They offered me the spot and I said yes.” He shrugs, twining his hands behind his head.

Dew narrows his eyes. He may not know Multi well enough to see his tells, but scent is never wrong. He’s lying. Dew can smell the subtle shift in that amber and spice scent of his. It became muddled. Muted. Replaced with something bitter. But what part is he lying about? Is he not actually in the band? Did the Clergy not actually offer him anything? Dew can’t tell. He is curious though.

“So…what are you gonna be doing then?” Dew asks. He’ll find a way to pull the right thread.

“Guitar.”

Dew freezes. What the fuck does he mean guitar? Aether is already on rhythm and Dew is supposed to be lead. He’s supposed to be. That was the fucking deal. Lords Below he is quintessence and fire. He could be either. They wouldn’t get rid of Aether…would they? Multi must sense the shift in his demeanor because the corners of his mouth twitch up.

“And backing vocals. And whatever else little Cardi needs. Imperator’s words, not mine.”

Dew relaxes slightly, but he’s still tense. He may have only been here for a little over a year, but even he can tell the Clergy likes to play games. He was there when Terzo was ripped off stage after all. Forcibly removed from the position of Papa for reasons that still are not clear. He would not be surprised if Sister actually did give him a deal. One of the only times Special appears is when the Clergy needs it. Maybe Multi will be the new Special? Dew’s tail twitches at the thought. Dew suddenly does not feel like pulling anymore threads.

The two sit in silence for a long time, occasionally breaking it with conversations of Dew’s favorite things he has discovered since being Topside. He tries to not let his mind run wild and he begins to find Multi an interesting person to talk to. It’s comfortable. It’s easy. But eventually everything catches up to Dew. His eyes are dry and he swears he can hear his bones creak when he moves. He slowly stands from the couch after the next lull in their chat. He stretches and looks towards Multi.

“Think I’m gonna go sleep. You wanna be shown to your room now?”

“Nah I’m fine out here.”

Dew raises an eyebrow, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Dew can see the exhaustion in his eyes, but he doesn’t force him. Maybe he should, but his mind feels sluggish.

“Well you can pick any room that’s empty.” Dew murmurs before turning and heading down the right side of the hallway. He doesn’t get far though.

“Hey Dewdrop?”

He stops, turning around to look at Multi.

“For the record, this new summon doesn’t hate you.”

Dew blinks and turns back around. He ducks his head so that his hair falls over his face to hide the smile that creeps onto his face.

“Goodnight Multi,” he throws over his shoulder.

He barely has the mind peel himself out of his uniform when he gets back to his room. He does not even bother with braiding his hair like he normally does. He will be annoyed in the morning when he has to brush out knots and tangles, but right now all he cares about is crawling under his blankets and burying his head under a pillow. Once he’s out of his clothes he does just that, forgoing pajamas. Not a single patch of skin is visible in the mess of his nest. The only thing that shows he’s even there is the vaguely Dewdrop shaped lump curled up in the middle of the bed.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep does not come easy at first. He is almost hyper aware of the fact Rain is just on the other side of the wall. Talking with Multi nearly made him forget about his shortcomings with the new water ghoul, but now that he’s alone it’s all he can think about. He thinks about the possibility that Rain was a loner in the Pits. If that is true Dew is fucked to put it simply. There is no way a loner is going to fit the needs of the Ghost Project. Even if he ends up being a magical prodigy on bass, it completely ignores everything else that goes into it. He has to be constantly surrounded by other ghouls. Not even ghouls from his pack, but others that the Cardinal may interact with. He’s not just a band ghoul. He’s a ghoul that was summoned by a high ranking Clergy member. He has innate responsibility that goes beyond plucking a few strings and showing up to rehearsals. If he cannot perform the more social aspects there is no way the Clergy will let that fly. Dew will not be able to become fire. He hopes to any Lord that is listening that Rain is not a loner and he just does not like him. At least then he can get what he wants, who cares if he’s hated?

Sleep eventually claims Dew as his thoughts turn silent. For the first time in a long time, he dreams of the Pits. He dreams of what used to be his home. He dreams of the shining lake he was chased out of when he was deemed a hindrance to his school. He sinks down, down, down below the waves, unable to reach the surface no matter how hard he kicks. Just as the light disappears though he blinks and he is in Aether and Ifrit’s arms sitting on the dock of the Ministry’s lake. Both of them are whispering in his ears, but he cannot focus on them. He can only focus on his reflection in the water. It is not him. It is a silhouette with red glowing eyes, staring back at him. He reaches out to touch it. It feels almost familiar. He needs to see what happens. The moment he does the dock disappears and he’s thrown right back into the cold, dark depths.

He wakes up with a start, sitting up so fast the pillow over his head gets launched across his room. He blinks and shakes his head, brow furrowed as he looks around. He turns towards the window, early morning light filtering in through the blind before glancing at the clock on his nightstand.

“Figures,” he grumbles to himself.

Even when he is exhausted he cannot sleep past sunrise. He could try to roll over, burying himself back in the warmth of his blanket nest, but he knows he will not fall back asleep. Once he is up that is it, he cannot go back. He does not know why, maybe it is because he is a light sleeper who knows? All he knows is that it sucks. The only other people that get up this early are the Ministry fire ghouls, called awake by the sun Herself. He knows well enough that Ifrit would rather sit in bed and watch Zephyr sleep than do anything else. He would sooner cut off his own fins than hang out alone with Alpha, so he is used to spending mornings alone.

He sighs deeply, running his hands over his face before rolling out of bed. The chill of the room is the only thing that reminds him he did not bother with pajamas last night. He digs around in his dresser, pulling out a pair of black sweatpants to head to the kitchen. The den is quiet as he walks through the halls, though he is not complaining. Sometimes it is nice to simply exist in a space without having to make yourself known.

It is routine for him. He goes to the kitchen to grab a before breakfast snack to chew on in his room while he waits for everyone else to wake up. He could go down to the feast hall or figure out how the stove works, but why bother? He does not like to eat meals alone. He would much rather go hungry. The silence is nice at first, but the longer it stretches the more his skin starts to itch. So he grabs a bag of dried seaweed and turns right back around to curl up and scroll on his phone while he waits. He pauses when he sees Multi still sleeping on the loveseat. He looks uncomfortable. He is sweating and he reeks of fear. Part of him screams to go wake him up, but the part of him that is still half asleep wins. He makes a mental note to prod at him later and heads back to his room with his snack in hand.

When he gets to the hallway though, something makes him stop. It's faint, but he can hear commotion coming from Rain’s room. It does not sound just like he is waking up, it sounds like a struggle. He can hear the sound of his deep voice, though he cannot make out what he is saying. He stares at his door, chewing his lip. Mountain, Aether, and Multi’s voices all overlap in his head telling him the same thing.

Leave him alone. He asked you to leave him alone. He wants to be alone.

He should listen. He should just ignore it and walk right into his room. He makes it one step past Rain’s door before turning around and grabbing the handle. He is almost surprised when it pops right open. Thank the Lords Rain has yet to discover locks. The room is dark save for the dim light of the sunrise. At first, Rain is nowhere to be seen and Dew’s stomach flips, but he quickly notices the door to the bathroom is open. He walks over, flipping the light on when he steps through the threshold.

Rain is on the ground next to the bathtub clawing at his gills. He glares up at Dew, but he can see the panic in Rain’s eyes. Even if the mask was not slipping, Dew can smell the sharp scent of fear in the air. He drops to his knees, coming up beside him. Once he is closer he can see just how dry the skin around his gills are. He can see dots of blood where the skin is cracked. The sight makes him feel sick.

“Shit fuck okay hold on just hold on.” He reaches up to turn the faucet on.

The moment the water sprays out Rain practically leaps forward. He crawls into the tub, sticking his head under the running water so that it covers his gills. Dew can see them flare and pulse as he sucks in air. How could he be so stupid? Rain is an oceanic water ghoul. He has never existed out of water before. Dew did not even think to explain that he needs to soak. It is second nature to him as a freshwater ghoul. A ghoul designed to live on both land and water. He let something so important slip his mind and now Rain’s gills might be damaged. He really has fucked up in record time. He swallows. He needs to fix this. He needs to get out of his head and actually be there for this ghoul.

He sits up on his knees, reaching into the tub to plug the drain. Rain’s hand darts forward, grabbing his wrist. Neither of them move. He keeps his head down under the faucet and Dew just stares at him. He can feel his claws prickling against his skin. Dew cannot pull away even if he wants to lest he shreds his own wrist. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest, pushing down every instinct he has. After what feels like an eternity, Rain slowly lets go of Dew. He still does not look at him though. When he fully drops his hand, Dew plugs the drain.

“Now you can soak,” Dew mumbles.

At the sound of his voice, Rain turns his head. Dark blue peeks out from behind wet strands of inky black. His eyes search Dew’s face and that feeling from the summoning room returns. He still cannot place it, the look he gives him. It makes him feel like the rabbit locking eyes with the wolf moments before the chase begins. He is not confident he will survive if Rain decides to spring. But he will not run. If this is what it takes to become fire then he will do it. He will prove his devotion.

When the water is high enough to lick against the gills on Rain’s abdomen, he turns his attention away from Dew with a noise of surprise. He leans back in the tub, resting against the cool porcelain with his knees to his chest. Dew does not think he has ever seen a ghoul so big look so small. They sit in silence, the only sound filling the room is running water. When it’s high enough Dew flips it off. He wants to talk to him but he has no idea what to say. He picks at the grout in between the tiles as a million things race through his head. Should he apologize? For what? Leaving when he was asked to? He cannot exactly ask how his first night was, it is pretty obvious given they are in this situation to begin with. Even he is not stupid enough to ask about his life in the Pits. That is a story he has to tell on his own, if he ever tells it.

He keeps tracing the lines of the tiles with his claws until something catches in the corner of his eye. The bag of dried seaweed. He completely forgot about it when he saw Rain’s condition. He flicks it with his tail, pushing it close enough to him that he can grab it. He can feel Rain’s eyes on him as he struggles to open it.

“Stupid fucking,” he mutters as he tries to pull it open, “forget it.”

He puts the corner of the bag into his mouth, tearing it open with his teeth. When he looks up again Rain is right at the edge of the tub peering at him with big eyes. Dew nearly jumps at the sudden proximity, Rain’s face about only a foot away from his. He can see his nose twitch as he scents the air. He looks between him and the bag before tentatively extending it to him.

“Want some?”

Rain mirrors him, looking between Dew and the bag a few times before hesitantly reaching forward. He takes a handful before pulling back, putting a bit more space between himself and Dew as if he would suddenly change his mind about sharing the food. He watches Dew stick some in his mouth before darting his tongue out to taste it. Dew has to fight back a smile when he sees his pupils dilate. Maybe he can coax him out of his self isolation with food? He’ll have to beg River and Lake to catch some fish for him. And then beg Mountain to cook it. He thinks it would be worth it just to see any expression on Rain’s face other than a snarl. He wants to know what he looks like when he smiles.

The thought catches Dew off guard, makes him pause. Who cares if he ever smiles as long as he can hold a bass? That is all Dew needs right? That is all he thinks he needs, but sitting here staring at Rain without his hair covering his face as he tries Topside food for the first time something else blooms. He does want to see him smile. He wants to see him laugh. He wants to see him comfortable. He does not just want him to be his replacement, he wants Rain to be his friend. Suddenly he cannot live with the idea that Rain hated him the moment he stepped out of the circle. Unfortunately Dew has never been great when it comes to his emotions so he ignores it. He has too many things to worry about and one of them does not need to be if Rain likes him or not.

He is pulled from his thoughts when a deep voice fills the silence, “Why did you help me?”

“Huh?” Dew blinks.

“Why did you come back here to help me? Why are you sharing your food with me?”

How the hell is he supposed to answer that?

“I…heard you struggling and I got concerned. What type of ghoul would I be if I let you die the first night you’re here?” He tries to keep it light, almost joking.

“A smart one.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not.” He pauses when he hears himself. Rain raises an eyebrow at him.

“That’s not what…nevermind. The point is you’re Topside. You don’t have to fight to survive anymore. You have a pack now.”

It’s subtle the way the corners of his eyes soften, but it is there. He still looks tense, but Dew does not expect him to magically adjust just because he was a decent person to him. As long as he does not try to claw or bite anyone anymore Dew will take it as a win.

“Can I have more of those things?” Rain eventually mutters.

“All yours.” Dew hands him the entire bag. Rain does not take it at first though. “Seriously, it's fine. The others should be getting up soon so that means breakfast.”

With the affirmation, Rain takes the bag from him. They sit in silence while Rain eats, but for once Dew does not mind. It gives him a chance to think. He needs to find the thing that will actually help Rain. Mist did that for him. He can do it for Rain. Maybe he should take him to the lake. Although River and Lake are usually out there and something tells him throwing him out there with more random ghouls probably is not the best idea. Why is this so hard? He taps his claws against the tiles, trying to come up with literally anything. All the while the scent of cooked meat slowly filters in. Mountain must be up. Maybe he can help.

Dew stands, stretching his back with a pop that makes Rain visibly cringe. He eyes Dew with that unfamiliar look, “You’re leaving?”

This takes him by surprise. Clearly Rain does not like other ghouls, and now he is concerned where Dew goes?

“Uhh yes? Was gonna go see what’s cooking.”

They stare at each other for a moment. Dew flexes his fingers. He might as well take a chance, what’s the worst that could happen?

He extends his hand, “You can come if you want.”

“The other ghouls will be there too won’t they?”

“Yeah. Well. It’s early still so it will probably just be Mountain for a bit.”

Silence.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. No one is gonna make you.”

Rain nods, pulling his knees back up to his chest.

“I can…bring you a plate? If you want?”

He nods again.

Dew smiles a little, “I’ll be back.”

He leaves Rain’s room, shutting the door behind him before heading to the kitchen. Multi is awake now, no longer on the loveseat. Instead he is sitting at the table watching Mountain who is staring down at the pan in front of him with his arms crossed, spatula in hand.

“Hey little sprite,” Multi greets when he sees him.

Mountain blinks, looking up from the stove when he hears him, “Morning Dewbug.”

He hops up onto the counter, nuzzling against Mountain’s shoulder, “What’re you making?”

“Sausage and potatoes.” He replies as he presses the spatula down against the meat, sizzling growing louder as he does.

Dew hums, “Can you make me two plates?”

Mountain cocks an eyebrow, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

“What? Am I supposed to let the new summon starve?”

“Oh the little fishy let you back in?” Multi chimes in.

“Yeah…something like that.”

“Few more minutes and it’ll be done. I made extra so bring him as much as you want.”

Dew stays sitting on the counter, legs idly swinging while he zones out. Mountain and Multi are talking, but he does not pay attention to their conversation. He is not really paying attention to anything, letting his stream of thought flow. He is only snapped back into reality when Mountain nudges him. He blinks and shakes his head, eyes flicking up to meet Mountain’s.

“Foods ready.”

Dew can see four plates dished out and sitting on the table over his shoulder. Multi is already digging into his. Dew smiles.

“Thanks Mount.” He presses a kiss to his cheek and hops off the counter.

He takes the plates from the table, wincing a little at the heat. He carries them back to Rain’s room, using his tail to open the door. He is surprised to see Rain out of the bathtub. He is sitting on the edge of his bed, hair still wet. He looks tense when the door first opens, but he minutely relaxes when he realizes it is Dew.

“I know it’s not fish, but it’s meat. I know it’s weird but trust me it’s so fucking good.” Dew hands one of the plates off to Rain.

Dew takes a seat at the desk, turning the chair around so he can face Rain. He hopes he will eat it. He remembers when he was first summoned he refused to eat anything besides the bag of raw shrimp he found in the bottom of the fridge. It took Mist weeks to get him to try something else, something that was not seafood. He watches Rain eye the sausage, poking at it with his claws before picking it up and sniffing it. He takes a bite and visibly grimaces. Dew is sure he will spit it out, but he just chews it slowly.

“You don’t have to eat it. I can ask Mount to make you something else,” Dew assures him.

Rain shakes his head, “No it’s…fine. I can eat it.”

Almost as if to prove his point, he scoops up some of the potatoes and pops them into his mouth. Thankfully he does not seem to have as much of a visceral reaction to them as the sausage. Dew wants to say something, but he also does not want to push his luck. It is amazing Rain did not just kick him out once Dew turned on the tub for him, so he is not going to test his limits. As long as he does not get sick Dew is happy. He will ask Mountain to make something special for him when dinner rolls around. Maybe he will even ask him to make his favorite smoked salmon dish. He is sure that is something Rain will like.

“What happens to me now?” Rain eventually asks as they both eat.

“Uh well we have a week before you have to start rehearsal? I think? I didn’t really pay attention so in the meantime I guess you just…hang out?” Dew has the sudden realization that perhaps he needs to learn how to plan ahead.

“Rehearsal?” Rain cocks an eyebrow.

“Yeah I mean that’s why you were summoned. To play bass for the Ghost Project.”

“I was summoned. To play human music. In a human band. Summoned from Hell itself to be in a band.”

“Well when you put it like that it sounds crazy.”

Rain blinks at him.

“It’s really not so bad,” Dew shrugs, “I think it’s really fucking fun.”

“You’re in it too?”

“Yeah I…used to play the bass.” Dew can feel the fins on his arms twitch. Technically he is not wrong. If Rain is deemed worthy then he will have no reason to ever pick up a bass again.

“Used to?”

Dew nods, “Can’t do it anymore so they uh they summoned you. I’m here to help you get used to it.”

It is that he doesn’t want to talk about his planned elemental transition, it is more so he does not want to burden the new summons. It is bad enough dealing with Mountain, Aether, Ifrit, and Zephyr, he does not need people he barely knows pitying and worrying about him too. If he just never mentions it then he will never know how they look when tears fill their eyes if something goes wrong. He knows he will be fine, but if his time with them is brief then he only wants to know them with smiles.

Rain hums, “So those other ghouls. They’re in the band too?”

“Yeah. Everyone in the den has played at some point or another. Mount and Aether are still in it,” he pauses, “and I guess those two air ghoulettes and that multi ghoul as well.”

“Him?”

Dew nods.

Rain scoffs but does not say anymore. Interesting. That is going to be something he digs at when he is not so afraid of being kicked out again.

The two talk for a while longer, empty plates long forgotten. Though, it is mostly Dew speaking with introjections from Rain every now and then. Dew ends up suggesting he meets the rest of the pack, but Rain is quick to shoot that down. Instead, they settle on something much simpler. A tour of the Ministry. They both get dressed after Dew steals some of Mountain’s clothes for Rain and they head out. He really cannot say if he is cut out for this whole mentoring thing, but watching Rain’s face fill with wonder as he shows him around makes something swell in his chest. He is more than happy to be the one Rain falls to.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fic #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dew ghoul #raindrop ghost #rain x dewdrop #swiss ghoul #golfball writes

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mrsshabana · 9 months ago

Note

gyutaro x reader, but... reader is secretly a eldritch horror. like if he asks a question (ex: where did you get that?) they'd be like 'don't worry about it, dear~' or 'That doesn;t reeeeeeaally matter, does it? I'm just happy you like it, love~' just reader giving the most the overly ominous vibes when it comes to stuff they do. and gyutaro hasn't seen reader eat like normal humans so he'd assume they too is a demon but noooo reader is SO much more

ya dig or no?

𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐄𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Somehow Gyutaro piques the interest of an eldritch being. He has no idea what you are but he can't help but feel undeniably drawn to you. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Canon!Gyutaro x ???!Reader, reader technically doesn't have a gender BUT reader takes on the form of a female. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2k words. I actually REALLY love this idea... I kind of just went on a whim and wrote this. It's very different from what I usually write and it's very mysterious. But I hope you like it anyway!

It was a foggy night.

Gyutaro stands in a pool of blood. Having followed a demon slayer out of the district and into the nearby woods. Ending his life as soon as he turned his back.

Nothing out of the usual for Gyutaro. But everything felt off somehow. The air was thicker, the dew on the grass felt damper, and the wind seemed to whisper to him. He could feel each individual speck of moisture hit his skin as the fog traveled through the air.

He stands there, feeling something similar to dread but also somehow comforting at the same time. Unmoving as he stares at the corpse before him, too overwhelmed by the environment to enjoy his meal.

He blinks.

"So... pretty you are," you stand inches from his face, caressing his cheek with a hand that feels devoid of life.

Gyutaro's body completely freezes up. How did you get there? He never saw you approach him. One moment he was looking at his prey, and the next there was a woman right in front of him.

He feels like he can't breathe, like the air left his lungs the moment your skin touched his.

You remove your hand from his cheek, "What kind of... creature may you be?" You ask as if you already know the answer.

And for some reason, Gyutaro feels compelled to answer you immediately, "I'm... a demon."

It's a similar feeling to when he's in the presence of Master Muzan. Like he has no choice but to obey. Like it's in his DNA to obey you. Or maybe there is another force that gives him no choice.

The corner of your lips slowly curl into a smile, "How lovely..."

For some reason, it feels incredibly difficult for him to avert his gaze from yours. But with all of his willpower, he manages to do so. Looking down at you, observing your form.

You look like an ordinary human woman. But your aura feels like something else, something that terrifies him to think about.

You're quite beautiful too. Having a perfectly symmetrical face, almost too symmetrical. It took him far too long to notice that you were completely nude. Your body looks ordinary as well at first glance. But when he looks closer he realizes that there is a fine, black dust covering your skin. He doesn't know what it is, but the smell of it reminds him of burning corpses.

But underneath that strange smell, he doesn't smell a human nor a demon. You don't smell like anything at all. Perhaps the smell of the universe if that could be described.

"Wh-Who are you...?" he croaks.

"Mm... You may refer to me as," you pause for a moment, "Y/N."

"W-Well Y/N, you must be very cold," his voice quivers, "Let's get you inside."

He has no idea why he would even suggest such a thing. Demons shouldn't fraternize with humans like this, but you just feel so different. He can't help but feel overwhelmingly drawn to you.

"Yes... let us do so... Gyutaro," you say while gently taking his hand.

Without thinking, he takes your hand and turns towards the district. Completely forgetting his meal.

And that's when he realizes, he never told you his name.

+:｡.｡　⛧　｡.｡:+

Gyutaro eventually stopped questioning what you were. Maybe you were just a very strange human? Or perhaps you were some type of other creature. If demons exist then it isn't out of the realm of possibility that you were some kind of creature similar to himself.

He got no answers to his questions about you, but all he knew was that he enjoyed your presence.

You'd come around often. Sometimes you'd stay multiple nights with him before disappearing. Most of the time you'd sit in silence together, allowing him refuge in your arms. You'll stroke his hair and comment how his birthmarks are "Atramentous" and "Abyssal yet prepossessing."

He loved the way you spoke to him.

And he'd gravely miss you when you'd leave. Sometimes for days on end, only to reappear again in a similar fashion to the first time you met. Nude and covered in a mysterious dust.

There were so many things about you that he didn't understand. Like how you seemed to always know what he was thinking. And how you would only blink if he noticed and thought about how you hadn't been blinking for too long.

Your movements, your speech, your presence - everything about you was alluring. He didn't know if it was because you were otherworldly, or if it was because he only saw you as such. After all, he loved you.

Maybe love makes you view someone in such a way? Like they are quite literally out of this world. He's never experienced love, so to him, it made enough sense to look past the strange things you did.

But Daki could not look past it like her brother did. She was terrified of you. You never did anything to her, but you didn't have to. She could feel something off about you, and it made her incredibly uncomfortable.

And every time she even thought about mentioning her discomfort to her brother, she'd be struck with immeasurable dread. She couldn't explain it, but it was enough to keep her quiet. So she lied to her brother and stayed out of your way.

+:｡.｡　⛧　｡.｡:+

It was a foggy night, almost identical to when you first met, when you asked him to follow you into the forest.

He followed you blindly. Not out of fear or lack of control, but because he trusted you completely.

You lead him to a lake in the middle of the forest. How has he never noticed it was here? He's explored the wilderness surrounding the district hundreds of times over the century that he's been alive. And he's never once seen this lake.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" You say with a smile, though the somber tone in your voice betrays you. You sound as though you're mourning something very important to you.

"It is," Gyutaro smiles despite noticing your tone, "I've never noticed it was here before."

"Maybe you have never noticed it because you didn't need to."

"Maybe," he grins, always enjoying the allusive way in which you speak, "It reminds me of you..."

"How so?" you cock your head to the side like you're surprised by his statement.

He steps closer to the body of water, looking down at the calming ripples on its surface. "It's mysterious and beautiful..."

For the first time, it seems like the words coming out of his mouth weren't what you were expecting. When you speak with him, it's as if you always know what he will say. But not this time.

"Thank you," you murmur. "Perhaps we are one and the same... this lake and I." You step closer to him, your shoulders touching as you look down into the lake as well. "Would you say... that you love this lake?"

His cheeks turn crimson as he nods, "Y-Yes, I do."

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder, "It loves you too."

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, watching the water ripple and the moonlight twinkle on its surface. Gyutaro never notices how the ripples seem unaffected by the direction of the wind.

"Do you love it so much that you want to become closer to it...?" You whisper, looking up into his demonic irises.

His mouth opens for a moment, then closes momentarily before opening again, "I want to be as close as possible to it..."

"... to become one...?

He nods eagerly, "M-More than anything..."

"If it is your will... then it is ours." You leave his side and begin slowly walking towards the body of water, removing your clothes as you do so.

Gyutaro's eyes widen and he follows your lead, removing his clothes as well without question.

Once he's rid of his clothes you turn around and hold his face in the palms of your hands. Slowly pulling him into the water. He feels as though he's in some kind of trance as he follows you deeper, but at the same time, it feels like he's exactly where the universe wants him to be.

As the water surrounds his body it feels almost embryonic. Warm and comforting, like he's being embraced entirely by you.

He follows you until his feet no longer touch the bottom of the lake. The only part of him above the water is his head. He watches as you slowly descend into the water, it envelopes your face but you remain keeping eye contact with him.

You gently pull his face closer to yours until your lips touch.

Gyutaro's eyes close as his entire body feels ethereal. Light yet heavy, happy yet sad, alive yet dead.

His lips stay connected to yours as his head submerges under the water. Sinking endlessly into the lake, your kiss never breaks. He doesn't realize that he stopped breathing long ago. Nor does he feel any urgency to breathe or return to the surface. All he wants is to stay here forever, with you.

To his dismay, you break the kiss. Gyutaro opens his eyes and sees you. Yet it entirely isn't you. Or at least it's not the you that he's used to seeing.

You are everything yet nothing all at once.

In his eyes, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

And as you pull him deeper into this seemingly endless abyss, he sees a flicker of light coming from the darkness below.

It gets closer... and closer... and closer...

His eyes widen when he sees what it is. A moon. But not just a moon, it appears to be the surface of the water.

Gyutaro wants to reemerge on the other side - to be with you. But he feels like he has an important decision to make. One he doesn't quite understand.

Feeling compelled to look behind him, back to the direction in which he came, he does just that. But he doesn't recognize the scene from which he left. It was a calm night, was it not?

Then why does he see fire and ash?

Why does he feel so sad? Looking back, he feels so many things. Like a complete failure, filled with so much self-hatred. Like every decision he made didn't make a difference. Everything he tried to do was for nothing because he couldn't escape what the universe had planned for him. He was cursed from the beginning.

He took and took his entire life, but no matter how much he took from others he could never have it for himself.

The scales would never tip in his favor. It was destined to be that way from the start.

But with you, his curse isn't ignored nor is it gone. It's celebrated and accepted. When he's with you, the scale is flipped upside down.

Gyutaro swims deeper and never looks back. Reemerging on the other side.

His head rises out of the water and he opens his eyes to see you. You look... normal? And nothing seems out of the ordinary. The lake and the forest look exactly the same as they did before he went under the water.

"How do you feel, my love?" you chime, holding his hands beneath the water.

"I-I feel... great," he looks around, sedately, "Perfect actually." Finally, he smiles.

"I'm so glad to hear that." With an elated grin, you lead him out of the water once again.

The two of you make your way out of the lake. And he sees his clothes lying on the bank, just where he had left them.

He bends down and picks up his trousers, but pauses when he notices something unusual. A fine, black dust on his fingertips.

"Are you excited to spend eternity together?"

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyuutarou #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #eldritch horror #𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 ʚ♡ɞ

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kurishiri · 2 months ago

Text

20 . . . alfons main story

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: written depiction of blood, near death experience (= suicide attempt), maybe vague misogyny? angst.

The next morning, I woke up to a familiar sense of unease.

(Wait, huh...?)

I was the only one on the bed.

To be fair, that was a given, as this was my room, but also for a reason beyond me, I couldn’t help but feel something was severely off.

(...I... I’m pretty sure I slept with someone yesterday... or that’s how it feels...)

(.........But, just who was that someone...?)

I racked my brain, but nobody came to mind — it was as though some haze was blocking the way.

Even as I looked at my body and around the bed, there was not even a single trace of anyone having been here in sight, with the bed so neat and clean.

But——

(This smell... what was it again...?)

The moment I started to move, a sweet fragrance wafted up my nose in passing.

(Just what is this... when I’m taking in this scent...)

[1] my heart feels painful.

[2] my body starts to throb.

[3] a flame lights in the depths of my heart. (+4 / +4)

(I really feel as though... a flame has lit itself in the depths of my heart.)

(I don’t even know what this is, and yet...)

It was a fragrance that resembled a flower soaked in the dew of night, one that could clear the mind and calm the heart——

...And I wanted that scent to wrap me in its gentle embrace, never to let me go.

—— Scene change; dining room ——

Kate: Good morning.

Roger: Hey, morning.

Roger was the only one sitting in the dining room.

Kate: Is everyone else out?

Roger: Yeah, Jude and Ellis got their usual jobs going on. And Liam and Harrison went to the cake shop together.

R: As for Victor and Will, they’re at the palace, and Elbie... well, he might be out cold somewhere around here, maybe.

Roger gave a general overview of everyone’s whereabouts as he bit into his bread.

Kate: Oh, and thank you for yesterday.

Roger: No need, I was also able to make some good progress with my research too. It’s like a give and take situation, yeah?

R: Besides that, are you doing okay? You were looking pretty pale yesterday.

Roger pushed a silver stand with toast on it, silently telling me to eat.

Kate: Yes, I feel better now, thank you...

(Wait a minute... just why did I feel so down in the first place though?)

I came to the realization that the events of yesterday seemed faint and vague.

(I remember I went with Roger yesterday afternoon to meet the family of someone who had held a bearer of the ‘Curse of the Mirror’ dear.)

(And then...)

Kate: Wait, just why was I so pale again...?

Roger: Huh? It was because the results of the investigation came up empty. I thought you knew?

R: Well, empty aside from the fact that a memento alone is not enough to be able to escape from the tragic fate of those with the ‘Curse of the Mirror,’ so that’s why.

Kate: ...Well, yes, but why was I so bent on finding a way to escape from the Mirror’s fate specifically——

Just then, my heart thumped loudly in my chest.

(Just what... is this feeling...?)

It was like my body was being burnt from the inside as an intense urgency rushed through me.

(I have to remember.)

(I have to——)

(Because it was surely something that I should not... or absolutely could not afford to forget.)

——...You truly are a fool, in every sense of the word, aren’t you.

There, I heard the voice of someone who had rooted himself in my mind.

——Alright, fine, I understand now. I admit my loss.

Whose voice was this?

——Let us put an end to this now.

And just who are you?

——“I have always loved you” — in my own way.

Kate: ...——!

K: It was Alfons...

Roger: Alfons? Who in the world is...

After a moment of silence, those eyes widened sharply.

Roger: ——Tch, blast it, he got us...!

Kate: You mean, he used his ability to...?

Roger: I imagine. He probably said something like, ‘When you wake up, you will forget everything about me.’

R: I was taking a nap down in the lab then. Damn... so he went and used his ability at that time, I bet.

Kate: I think it was the same for me... but that leaves the question of why he would...

(——Hold on. Could it be...)

‘Let us put an end to this now.’

(N-no, that can’t be true.)

The moment a certain possibility bubbled up in my mind, I shut it down.

After all, how would he even think of doing that for someone he didn’t even love? Snow would fall in summer first.

(But...——)

Elbert: ...Kate, Roger.

Kate: Lord Elbert...

Seeing Lord Elbert enter the dining room, I instinctively found myself walking toward him, pressing for an answer.

Kate: Do you remember Alfons...!?

Elbert: ...I do.

E: It seems that... Al’s ability has never lasted very long when he used it on me.

E: So that was why I was able to remember, the moment I saw the note he left behind.

(He left a note...?)

He handed me a slip of paper——and on it, the only words written were ‘Have a lovely rest of your life.’

Kate: ...No way...

That very message, ‘have a lovely rest of your life,’ rang with an air of a farewell for life.

Roger: Forget about a note, that sounds like an entire last will.

Kate: ...gh.

That possibility that I had shot down just before resurrected in my mind.

Elbert: ...There was a time I had asked Al what he would do were you to not give up on him.

(Give up... on him...)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Of course, to see whether you have given up on me.

—— End flashback ——

Elbert: And at the time, the only answer he gave me was that he would ‘cross that bridge when he got to it.’

E: But, when it comes to Al... I thought then that there was only one choice he would make.

Kate: And... what choice is that?

(Please.)

(I beg of you——please don’t say what I’m imagining.)

I stared at Lord Elbert, as if pleading with him.

Elbert: That before you get involved with Al further with your heart and body, pouring your time into him, and falling deeper in love with him...

E: ...he would disappear himself.

That one word — ‘disappear’ — was more than enough to freeze any thoughts in my mind, which had been in turmoil, breaking it down to shambles, just before.

(That’s right... from what I’ve seen, Alfons——was most definitely someone who would do that kind of thing.)

—— Flashback ——

Kate: And... are you telling me you would throw away your life just like that for a mere ‘plaything’?

Alfons: Exactly.

A: My own life holds about as much worth as a little tin soldier anyhow.

—— End flashback ——

Kate: ...We have to find him.

K: I can hardly bear for this love... to be what drives him this much to a corner...

Elbert: ...I had an inkling you would say that.

E: And I, too... normally, I would not chase after Al. But this time, I will make an exception.

E: ——After all, I would never let him disappear on his own like that.

(Is... is Lord Elbert angry...?)

I would expect anger from anyone other than him.

But, nonetheless, I still understood very well where he was coming from.

Truly, Alfons undermined the feelings of those around him.

Roger: But even so, someone who can slip by Victor’s eye doesn’t come around every day. It won’t be a walk in the park finding him.

William: ——If you are searching for Alfons, I’ve just received a report from Liam.

Kate: William!?

(I thought he went to the palace, so why... and besides...)

Kate: Wait, I thought Liam... didn’t he go to a cake shop?

William: As per the suggestion of the Privy Council, the purification club had set their sights on Alfons.

W: So that is why Liam and Harrison had been tailing him since yesterday.

Kate: I-is that so...?

William: That said, our goal was to follow the trail of those who were aiming for Alfons,

W: so that we could locate a central figure in the purification club and where he lived...

W: But this morning, Alfons didn’t bother to evade them. In fact, he allegedly even let them take him away.

(No way...)

William: And so I plan to go to the place he was taken to in order to pass judgment on the members of the purification club...

W: But as for you guys——

William’s eyes then meaningfully narrowed at us.

William: It seems there would be little point in asking what you guys want to do, am I right?

—— Alfons’ POV: a dilapidated mansion ——

Just wandering around the alleyways was enough for the purification club to take the bait,

as they took me to a room within a mansion that had clearly seen better years, where paintings with faded colors decorated the walls.

Dust could be seen everywhere, and I was sure if it were a lover they were taking to bed, such a room would be in sorely bad taste.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I thought you would resist more.

Alfons: Then I’ll have you know that I do happen to be the type to simply be whisked away wherever any voice may call.

A: Oh, or was such information not disclosed to you when some certain higher-up handed you documents on us?

We were in a mansion that more so resembled ruins that people would rarely step foot in.

I sat down on a chair in the middle of the room, and several men surrounded me, all armed with a gun.

——I couldn’t ask for a more ideal situation.

Alfons: Would Lord Goa happen to be in attendance?

A: Well, I suppose not. Dirtying his hands from an evil syndicate would be sorely beneath him, I would imagine.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I loathe that you call us as such. In fact, I should be calling you guys an ‘evil syndicate,’ no?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: After all, here you are, not bothering to even try to hide that suspicious power of yours, and even showing it off. That will only make you an enemy.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Your name came up as soon as we told a certain personage about the features of the intruder who had broken into the hotel.

Alfons: Ahha! Now my curiosity on who that may be does tickle me. Were that I could spend a night with such a fan of mine, you see.

The man’s hackles seemed to raise when I responded with words to egg him on.

(Well, it’s a relief to know he is a simple-minded person.)

It seemed as though half a taunt would be enough to make that thread of patience break.

Alfons: ...Would you happen to be familiar with the story of Snow White, perchance?

A: I’m curious to know who you believe to be the most cowardly of the cast? What about the most cruel?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I did not take you here to listen to you ramble about your childish riddles.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You will be telling us about the organization you work for, and its members. If you do, I will at least let you go alive.

Alfons: Hehe... I take it this is your first time interrogating someone?

A: Because dare I say, you could learn a thing — or perhaps ten — from a professional.

A: Interrogation 101 is first researching every nook and cranny about the person you’re going to question, so you know how to threaten them into giving answers, you know, or you will only be making a vain attempt.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: ...And dare I say, that’s some advice from someone who simply let himself be taken here.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Very well then. Allow me to answer your childish riddles.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: The most cowardly one is you, and the most cruel one is none other than me.

Alfons: Oopsie, I’m sorry to say you’re sorely wrong.

A: The correct answer would be the Mirror. For both questions, at that.

A: After all, it spoke a truth that nobody needed, and invited such a tragedy... and yet, by the end of the story would you not agree the Mirror has gotten away with it all?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Tch, just what are you getting at!? Do you not value your own life at all!?

Alfons: Goodness gracious, you cannot even find it in your heart to entertain my fun word play? I implore you, do read in between the lines, will you?

A: I’m saying that I despise tragedies.

A: So, do you see now? You can kill me right at this very moment, and I will go out without so much as uttering a complaint.

A: Go on now, everything shall go as you wish. I could hardly care less about when or where I kick the bucket.

Perhaps unable to understand my words, the man with the round glasses humphed.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You are a valuable source of information. Thus, until you spit out information regarding this ‘Crown’ and its members, I won’t grant you death.

Alfons: ...Oh, you poor soul. It seems reading between the lines was just too much to expect from the likes of you, so allow me the honor of clearly enlightening you.

I stood from my seat before approaching the parliamentary member.

Seeing me, who had not shown any signs of resistance until now, the guards who were originally relaxed, raised their guns in a single motion.

(Yes, that’s it, now there’s a good boy.)

Alfons: Speaking the truth and whatnot is positively beyond me. Do what you wish with me, but you’ve chosen the wrong person for true information.

—— Kate’s POV: city streets ——

On the way to the mansion where Alfons was taken, we crossed paths with Harrison and Liam.

After all, Roger had noticed there were guards lurking at the perimeter of the mansion, keeping watch.

Roger: I would bet they’re trying to get information on the people coming to rescue Alfons — that is, the members of Crown.

(If we’re too reckless, Crown would be put in danger.)

(...But——)

When I thought about the possibility that my memory of him would be lost for eternity,

I felt an urge so intense I could hardly bear it to just jump in the fray then and there.

Elbert: Roger... could you ensure not a single guard can escape?

Roger: Based on their positions and the number of people, I’d say four people are needed for that.

Elbert: ...If that’s so, may I leave that to you?

E: Kate and I will go inside.

Kate: Lord Elbert...

I was not the only one with widened eyes: the others also looked at Elbert with a slightly surprised expression.

Harrison: Well would you look at that, it’s not every day Elbie takes initiative.

Liam: I’m all for it. I’ll make sure there’s not a single witness around.

William: ——You are free to do as you like.

W: After we take care of those lurking around here, we’ll follow after you.

—— Alfons’ POV ——

Alfons: Speaking the truth and whatnot is positively beyond me. Do what you wish with me, but you’ve chosen the wrong person for true information.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You wretched——

Alfons: Come on now, won’t you shoot me? Or are those guns of yours simply for display in light of all your cowardice?

As I drew closer to the guns, step by step, I unsheathed my saber with a smooth motion, and I heard the sound of guns being readied.

But lackeys needed an excuse to kill a valuable prisoner.

(For example, they got so agitated at having been egged on, they couldn’t put a cap on their emotions.)

(Or perhaps they felt their own lives endangered by retaliation, and so they acted out of self-defense.)

And if it was a mix of both, then all the better for them.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Don’t shoot yet!

Alfons: Ahh! Is it that, despite the fact you find no problem in massacring people in the slums left and right like their naught but garbage, you feel disinclined to point a gun at a ‘noble’?

A: Golly, how much trouble I must have caused you.

A: But allow me to be the first to reassure you that, though I may act and talk like a noble... I actually do come from the slums you so loathe and despise.

(Just one more push.)

I only needed to make these foolish underlings, who didn’t bother to take away my saber just because I didn’t show resistance, think ‘I was dangerous.’

Alfons: So, how about it? Does it seem more doable now?

A: Oh, but if you still can’t find it in you to shoot, then perhaps I will take one of your arms first?

Just as I pointed my saber at him, fully intending to land a killing blow, though...

Kate: ...Alfons!!

Alfons: .........? [surprised]

——Resonating through the room was a voice I should have never heard again.

Upon hearing that voice, for a moment I had forgotten the smile I had worn to egg them on.

If this were a play, I would imagine such a scene would elicit a load of heckling.

And when I turned back, there I saw her, running toward me.

(——Why...)

I knew Liam and Harrison were tailing me.

And so, I led them here, and before they actually arrived on the scene, I would die by the hands of the purification club.

Afterward, Crown would interrogate them like the experts they were before condemning the leader of the purification club, and that would be the end of that.

I was sure they would only question ‘come to think of it, who was this again?’ over my dead body before being disposed of along with the rest of the guards.

——Or, that was how it was supposed to be.

Alfons: Ahh... good lord.

A: This reality can dig itself in a ditch for all I care.

A: Now look at what you guys have done. Thanks to your hemming and hawing, yet more trouble has found its way here.

Guard: Is that woman one of his friends——!?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I’m not sure, as there was nothing in the report. Well, I’m sure this woman is one of many he picked up.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: ——It doesn’t matter anyhow. Just kill her.

The guns then all took aim at her.

(Ahh, jeez——)

Truly, what an absurd thing it was. [1]

—— Kate’s POV ——

Kate: ...Alfons...?

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

The guns that had originally been pointing at Alfons shifted to me.

But right as I thought that, Alfons’ back blocked them.

It was only after his body slowly reeled——

That the flow of time seemed to return to its normal state as his body crumpled to the floor.

Kate: Alfons...!!

Parliamentary member with round glasses: What in the world have you done! Blast it all! How can I face Lord Goa if he dies...

Guard who shot: I-I apologize!

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Forget it! You useless goons! Don’t move another finger until I order it!

While I heard the scolding from a distance, I ran to Alfons.

And I set his head atop my knees, somehow managing to lift his torso.

Kate: Alfons! Hey, Alfons!? Can you hear me!?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Tch, you damn woman, you’re in the way, so move it!

A loud voice called out to me, causing me to raise my head.

(This person is——)

The man glaring at me was the parliamentary member with round glasses who was talking to Lord Goa in the purification club hotel.

The muzzle of the guns, which resembled a black hole, were pointed at the two of us.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Stay away from that man. I’m sure if we torture him even on the brink of death, we can wring some in...for——

Man with round glasses: gh, ughh!? What is this...!? M-my head——

(Lord Elbert...!)

At some point, Lord Elbert was standing behind him.

Elbert: …I could say the same for you guys.

E: Could I ask you… to not get in the way?

Due to Lord Elbert’s ability, the parliamentary member with the round glasses was now clutching at his head, crouching on the floor while crying.

(I have utterly no clue what’s going on… but anyhow, we’re saved.)

The befuddled guards stood where they were, stupefied at the strange scene unfolding before them.

Alfons: Pfft, hehe, ahahaha!

Kate: …!?

All of a sudden, I heard laughter from within my arms, bringing my attention back.

Kate: Alfons!? Oh, thank goodness, you’re awake... wait, no! Why are you laughing!?

Alfons: Ahah— sorry, that’s my bad, it’s just... utterly funny to me— pfft, ahaha!

With every word he spoke, the crimson of the blood gradually stained the black of his clothes.

Kate: The blood...! Don’t laugh any more! It’s only going to make the bleeding worse!

K: Right now, the wound——I need to stop the bleeding!

Blood was flowing out from around his shoulders.

Seeming to overflow ceaselessly, I pushed down a handkerchief on the wound.

And it only took a moment for the white handkerchief to be stained in red.

Alfons: haa... hehe, haa... I really am sorry. I know myself that I’m a bloody mess right now.

A: But, goodness, how could I not laugh at this... pfft, ahaha!

(But... there’s so much blood...)

Kate: Gosh, I don’t understand, just what in the world’s so funny to you!? Because I sure don’t see anything worth laughing at...!

Beyond my control, tears started to prick at the corners of my eyes, overflowing.

They threatened to fall and scatter to the ground, but before they could, I felt his black gloved fingers wipe them, his touch ever so gentle.

Alfons: ...Hehe, seeing you so worked up... what a fool you are...

A: To think you would remember me so quickly, and chase me all the way to a place like this...

Feeling the warmth that seeped through his gloves made my chest tighten, and once again, I couldn’t do anything to stop my tears.

Alfons: As I thought, things never seem to work out with you, truly.

A: In fact, it went so awry, I found myself laughing.

Kate: Alright, fine, I understand now, so please, just don’t speak anymore...

Elbert: Kate, let’s tie this over the handkerchief.

Lord Elbert ran to us, a long white cloth in his hand.

It seemed he had cut off a part of his outer clothes from its seams.

And when I looked around him, I saw that the bodyguards, too, were crouching on the floor, as was the man with round glasses.

Kate: Thank you...

Alfons: Hah... were you always this efficient, Elbert... or did I miss something along the way?

Elbert: You were the one who taught me to use what is around at times like these... a long time ago.

Alfons: ...Well, look at you, so awfully earnest.

Once Lord Elbert wrapped the cloth thoroughly around the wound, he left the room to call Roger.

Alfons: ...I cannot help but wonder, though, how did you wake up so quickly?

Alfons looked positively bewildered as he asked.

Kate: I don’t know... how could I?

Alfons: Were it that you could stay beguiled for a tad bit longer...

A: ...you wouldn’t have to go through the person you love dying before your eyes like this...

A: ...and by the time the illusion wears off on its own, you would have forgotten about me already... if only.

Kate: D-don’t... don’t you dare say things like you’re going to die...

K: I would hate that... for you to die...

K: My love, all of my feelings for you...

K: Don’t you even dare... think of turning them into an illusion ever again...

I hugged Alfons’ body tightly — that was the only thing I could think to do now.

Otherwise, the shadow of death that slowly crept toward him would take him away.

Or, much like a mirage, his very existence would fade away from my memories.

Alfons: haa...

From within my arms, Alfons started to move.

And realizing that he was trying to lift himself up, I went into a panic.

Kate: No, you can’t get up! You’re still bleeding...

Alfons: By God, from the bottom of my heart, this was the last thing I ever wished to happen.

Just then, I felt a warmth brush against my lips.

(A kiss...)

The touch of his lips on mine was as light as a feather...

...and yet, out of all the kisses we had shared, this very one was the most fleeting, just as it carved itself into the deepest place in my heart.

Alfons: ...It would seem that... I love you quite a bit myself, as it were.

Kate: ——?

Alfons: At least, to the point where I want to confess like this at death’s door, and leave a trace of myself in your life... one that would never fade away.

A: Would you not agree that life... is quite a fickle thing?

He let out a laugh before his head started to spin.

(No...)

(Please... I beg of you, don’t...)

Kate: ...you...

K: Well, you haven’t left enough of a trace behind...! So I won’t ever, by God, let you die in a place like this...!

Even though he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he still slowly looked up at me.

Alfons: ...Then... how about we make a bet... the two of us?

Kate: ...? A bet...?

Alfons: If I die, then I win. I bid you adieu, and have a lovely rest of your life.

A: But, if I happen to survive this ordeal... then you win.

A: And, just as you so wish, I will love you back to the fullest——

A: And tear your life to bits and pieces.

to be continued…

“ love me madly or love me blindly. ”

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NOTES:

[1] I find it a bit unclear what the subject is here; he could be referring to reality, or it could be directed at Kate. Or maybe both.

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