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georgiapeach30513 · 7 months ago

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See Through My Eyes, Part 1

Summary: You had reached the point of your life in the last thirty-six years that you were just going to be alone. You were content. Living your happy life with no rules for anyone but yourself. And there was Bucky. And one night. And that was all it took to have your world turned upside down, and it will never be the same again.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: language, implied sex, slight sexy imagery, I'm a cocktease (get over it 🤭), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Series Masterlist

Left. Left. Hmm.

This is not going to be an easy task. You’re definitely not picky, you just know what you want, and what you don’t want. What you’re willing to compromise, and some things that you most definitely would never even think twice about compromising on. Being single for so long, you have grown to be independent and didn’t actually need anyone in your life. If they were going to be with you, they would have to add to your experience.

Left. Nope. Never. Not in a million years.

Your friend, Zoey’s mouth drops open as your finger continues to swipe left. Left. Left. Throwing her head back in exasperation as you keep flicking left over and over again, and never in the direction she was ready to beg you to flick. Such a fruitless endeavor she’s making you endure. Pointless. These men were — well they weren’t anyone you would go after.

Countless faces that do nothing to excite you. There was absolutely no physical attraction whatsoever. Looks aren’t everything, but you have to be able to look at them. Imagine having that face hovering over you. Sputtering stupid words they think are a turn on, while you just start moaning so they get the fuck off you, and you are left to finish yourself off. Left with hardly any relief, but filled with humiliating shame for the rest of your life. No, thank you.

Oh that one looks smug. Nope.

This one looks high as a kite. Can’t do that.

“Are you even reading their bios?” Ehh, you were skimming them, and that’s if you find something about them you like. You know that Zoey thinks you’re just being a prude or an ass that is there for her humor. But if you were going to do this, why not make it enjoyable? At least walk away with a story to tell that didn’t want to make you hurl.

“A bit,” you hum. “Gross, this one is saying he’s going to give me a good time. How cringe is that?”

Zoey’s eyes narrow, and her lips purse as she stares at you. She’s already annoyed with your antics, and her constant want for you to have what she had. And you are okay with being alone. “What?” You ask her overly dramatic but judging face that you love, but still want to pinch her.

“You’re the one that’s cringe. How do you know?”

“Of all the dating sites you wanted me to use, you chose Tinder. Now, maybe I’m wrong but isn’t this a hookup site?” She just shrugs her shoulders while you continue to swipe left. “How do you want me to have sex with them if I don’t like the way this one looks like he could murder me in my sleep. So do you want me to date or…?”

“I want you to get the stick out that’s shoved so far up your ass. You work with children all day, and go home alone every night, and play with yourself,” you snort as you keep flicking through a few maybes, but mostly a bunch of no’s. “So you just have no sexual drive whatsoever?”

“Sex is more to me than just getting off. I need you to empower my eyes, my mind, control my body without touching me. Make me want you,” sex is sex of course. But you need to feel needy without penetration. The buildup and anticipation should be just as important and amazing as sex itself.

“And you know without a doubt that these men can’t do that to you?”

“Well,” you pause looking through this one’s bio. He was cute, no he was beautiful. Sexy in a rugged kind of way, but a face that looked like it was painted from your imagination as the perfect man. Step one. “First is their look. I do have to be attracted to them, or they’re not getting anywhere close to me with their dicks.”

You are very attracted to this one. He’s in construction. Muscles rippling, sweat dripping down his neck. But in his bio he is a bit of a nerd even adding a corny joke ‘How do construction workers usually party? They are always known for raising the roof.’

You giggle, flipping through more of his photos. He is doing it right, they’re just of him. No guesswork as to which one he is, and he has a pretty smile. Pretty and smart, even if he had dad jokes, and you’re sure there’s more than just that one. Not exactly empowering your mind, but he got your attention. And being cute and sweet was a part of being sexy.

But that last photo of him — he is one hundred percent bonafide beyond sexy, incredibly handsome man. He looks tired in this photo, maybe even a bit sad. His hands are in frame, and why is the fact that they’re dirty turning you on? Sweat drenched shirt, so it’s sticking to him, and leaving nothing to the imagination. But it isn’t what you would call the normal thirst trap. No this is designed to hit your every fantasy. And it does. Just looking at his picture gives you the most vivid dreams of him. Is that wrong?

Maybe a fictional man can exist. At least for one night. You could completely have a one night stand with him. Could find yourself daydreaming that a one night could be more, and could turn in to the most perfect love song that no one had even written yet.

Yes, this man could be the one that you would consider wrecking all your plans of being single forever. You could have fun with this man, but only if he matched with you. Oh, you didn’t think this through. At the very least you had a picture to add to your spank bank. Back to the point of this being normal to have sexual fantasies of people in your real life? Someone you could quite possibly run into eventually?

How could you even react? This is the man that you had pictured in every one of your romance novels that you drooled over every night claiming that there is a reason that fictional men are superior and that’s because men sucked. Women could never be enough. Your boobs are too big, they’re not big enough. Your hair is too short, and now it’s too long. They like a woman that doesn’t wear a ton of makeup, but they want you to look like a Kardashian.

Everything men say is a contradiction. Everything they want doesn’t add up. There’s holes in this plot, and it just makes absolutely no sense. And now you’re rambling in your head as your best friend stares widely at you, and you place your phone in your lap looking at her.

“You totally found a good looking man and your brain just went wild with different scenarios that could happen, but doesn’t mean that it will happen. Am I correct?” This is the problem with having a best friend. They just knew.

“Shut up.”

“Just swipe right, and put yourself out of your misery. You are so picky,” yes you are, but she didn’t have to call you out on being picky.

“I’m not picky. I’m very selective, and I’d rather be alone than settle. I don’t need sex,” she reaches to grab your phone, but you’re quicker. “I did swipe right. That is what you’re supposed to do right? What — Zo! What if I swiped left thinking it was no, and it was on all those guys except the one man that I wanted. Am I supposed to swipe right when I want him?” Your heart starts to race as you think of the possibility that all the men you found repulsive are the ones that you liked.

“Swiping right is correct. And judging by this whole meltdown you just did, you do in fact need sex,” you puff out a bit of air as you collapse on your couch. This is exhausting. You are going to give yourself an aneurysm if you continue at this rate. Why does everything seem so stressful? Dating in your thirties sucked. And not the good kind of suck.

And don’t try to judge yourself because you took a screenshot of that last photo. You weren’t going to do anything with it, but just look at it, so tonight when you were reading about a faerie king you had a face to put with his name. It’s that simple and that’s all it was. Nothing more, nothing less.

You take a glance down at your phone, mouth going agape as you read the notification. All of that nonsensical blubbering and worrying about how you were going to most definitely be alone forever, and you accepted that. But now the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life just matched with you.

“Um, Zo?” She can tell by the stunned look on your face, and your lack of words the onslaught on emotions and thoughts what happened.

“I’m booking the waxing immediately. We’ll go pick you out a new outfit, and you need fresh new lingerie. Is he cute?” You sit stock still, and refusing to even open your phone, just stare at the notification. Men did not find you attractive in a sexual way. And if they did, they never acknowledged it. You could flirt with the best of them, but all it got you was a free upsized fries. Or a free matcha, which you are positive was made before you, and they just never picked it up. So it was completely accidental.

Could this amazing looking man with his cute bio have made a mistake in his swipe? Maybe he thought that right was a no. He just got confused like you did.

I did have something planned, but it feels wrong. So can I say your beauty is so enchanting that it made me forget my pickup?

What the hell is this? You’re dreaming. This cheesy and corny man messaged you. So it wasn’t a mistake, you’re just living in a fantasy world where men like him talked to women like you. The lies you’ve made up in your head have made you crack. You are not a woman that can travel through time. Nope, you are a kindergarten teacher, and he was a fine as fuck man who matched on Tinder with you. On purpose.

“What the fuck do I even say?”

“Dinner?” Zoey starts laughing. Your friend loves to watch you squirm, but this isn’t what’s happening, you are trying to make this make any form of sense. It doesn’t. There is no way that this man meant to do that.

I think I’ve done something wrong.

Or are you online?

Ignore these messages. Maybe I made a mistake.

No! He didn’t make a mistake. ‘Sorry, I was trying to get away from my company. What mistake could you have made?’ God, that line was so cheesy. Just bury yourself in the sand and never emerge. This man is going to think you’re an absolute idiot. What the hell.

Your throat tightens up as you wonder exactly what he could be thinking. Does he think you’re as big a loser as you feel right now? Or is he already going, never mind, she’s not worth the time? And isn’t it just sex? Is Tinder more than that? Surely it is, even if the people have made it into a hookup site.

Good. You wanna have some dinner this Friday?

Yes.

Good. Perfect. Amazing.

Okay.

No, I mean thank you.

I’d enjoy that.

My dating etiquette is really rusty.

No worries. So is mine.

That was excruciating. Ouch, you hurt from the embarrassment. But dinner. There’s dinner in your future. “I need a new dress and lingerie. Forget the waxing. Let’s go.”

Bucky winces as his daughter, Isolde, runs down the hallway screaming. He looks at his best friend, Steve, and he shakes his head. “She’s on crack.”

“No. No, she was just at her mother’s,” Kenton. The bane of Bucky’s existence. She came around maybe twice a year. And of course wanted to insert herself the past weekend because it was Izzy’s birthday. “She’s got no raising at Ken’s. If…I’d like full legal custody of Izzy, but until then I play fucking nice.”

“Daddy said a bad word! I’m telling my teacher,” his cherub faced daughter runs into the living room before disappearing just as quickly. She was in love with her teacher. Bucky was thankful for his parents, and only slightly annoyed he didn’t have time to meet her.

“What is Miss Bambi doing?” Steve screams down the hallway, and Izzy steps back out of her room, shaking her head no. “What?”

“Fawn. Miss Fawn. Deer are her favorite animals, and she said Bambi was already taken. I am the chameleon of the classroom. And Jacob is the penguin,” she covers her mouth giggling as she runs back into her room, and Steve twists his head towards Bucky so fast. He’d have to talk to her about this Jacob.

“Each kid has a nickname, don’t ask questions. They love it. If Izzy wants to be a little lizard…”

“Daddy! I need a pet chameleon!” Hearing another loud bang, both men’s eyes go wide, and they turn towards her room.

“I can’t be responsible for her,” Steve shakes his head, “Why not wait until she gets a bit more acclimated to being home again? Are you just going to let her destroy her room?”

“She didn’t like the present her mom got her, and asked if she could break it,” Steve gives his friend a weird glance, chuckling when Isolde starts to evil laugh.

“I taught her that,” Steve beams proudly at his goddaughter, “What is so important?”

“A date.”

“Come again?”

“A. Date.”

“Bucky Barnes! Is this from Tinder? Wait, that’s why you want me to watch her at my house? You dog. You dirty little bastard! You’re finally going to get you some? This is great.”

“Number one,” Izzy runs back into the living room, and stands in front of her uncle, wagging a finger at him, “I’m telling my teacher you said a bad word. Number two, what does daddy need to get besides pizza?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m getting you. Go — do whatever evil little master plan you’re doing with your toy, and I’ll order pizza. Because daddy needs to get some — pizza,” he steps in front of his friend shaking his head. This was a bad mistake. Not because of you, but because Steve was going to make a bigger deal out of this than he was ready for. It wasn’t anything major. It was his yearly time to get out there to see if dating was worth it, and it rarely was.

Too many games, and too much time. At least with Tinder there didn’t seem to be any confusion on how the evening would go. A bit of dinner, laughs, fun, and…you go home? He takes you to his home? He goes to your place, and sneaks off? No, that’s rude. He offers to call a cab? Wait, how are you and him going to get to wherever you are going?

“I don’t feel good.”

“Ahh! No! Not all women are like Ken. They are not all evil bitches that like to use your daughter as a bargaining tool. They are not all her. Don’t you dare put your issues with one woman on another one. You may have fun, you know?”

“Steve! I’m telling Miss Fawn you said two bad words!”

He is just as nervous and awkward as you, and you sigh in disbelief. Legitimately laughing at his corny jokes, and when he smiles, the nervous knot in your belly loosens up, but a warm tingling remains. The restaurant is small and cozy, and he is a delight. He doesn’t turn you off, in fact…

Oh yeah, he’s hitting all your spots. Everyone of them. Amazing to look at. First step with attraction. The way his face lights up when he talks and tells a joke, he’s not faking. His sweet little giggle, and nose scrunch make your body all fuzzy and giddy. All these different adjectives to describe the buzzing in your brain feels almost dizzying, and you welcome it. No, you want to pull into your body and keep it with you forever.

Well, until the morning comes and you imagine for the rest of the weekend about what it would be like if Bucky wasn’t a man that was going to eventually disappoint you, and that it could truly be real and true love. And you live happily ever after, which of course you know is a lie because men just don’t like you like that.

And the man is smart, and well traveled. Talking about how he spent his twenties moving around for work, and enjoyed every second of not being tied down. You suppose that is a positive and something you should have done more in your life. But now, he’s somewhat settled. You don’t even know what the ‘somewhat’ part means. But you like to look at him. Looking at him feels wet, and you would completely be ashamed to admit that out loud.

And he even casually and occasionally touches you. You’ve seen how dirty his hands get, but they’re clean now. And warm. And strong, and when he talks with his hands a waft of his sexy, clean and fresh cologne invades your senses, and you’re a goner.

Oh oh, when he leans towards you, whispering something in your ear, and his lips touch your neck just the tiniest bit, and your insides light on fire. That was definitely not an accident, and you want to devour every touch of his petal pink lips. You’re so deprived of actual touch that this was all it took, and you are a simpering fool for this man.

Your pupils turn into a black pool of lust. Nearly trembling from the vibrating that his scent has your body doing. You’re ready to place yourself in his lap allowing him to feel your pulsing heat, while the other patrons of the restaurant be damned. His body scoots closer to you, and you feel his own buzzing radiating onto your skin. Thankfully you’re not alone. He’s fully aware of what’s happening, and he wants it, too. One night can’t hurt.

His hands finds a home on your thigh and he rubs up and down. Up and down. Each time getting higher, and dipping lower between your legs. Up and down. Lick the annoying tick of a metronome, and the tempo speeds up. You feel like you’re going to explode as an odd pleasure courses through your body. Going to come undone right here in front of these people.

Whimpering out his name when he leans into your neck, “Without sounding too forward...”

“My place?” Fuck. Well, aren’t you just the eager beaver? Men don’t like when you’re too forward. They want a lady, until they’re ready to pounce, and then you bend to their every whim and let them use your body as your plaything. You would like to be treated as a play thing. That actually sounds nice to give someone else the control over your pleasure and not just tapping the button on your battery operated boyfriend. Power tool.

“Okay,” he says enthusiastically. Looking over the table as he adds up the amount before he lays down a few bills. “We are — how do I say this?”

“I want you to fuck me like you own me.”

“Good.”

Good? Oh god this man is going to have you turned inside out, and wiping drool off the floor. No, he’ll probably have you licking the floor. Sweet Jesus. Maybe Zoey was right. You need a real man with real hands and a real touch.

And a real reality check. You sigh, leaning your head back on your shoulders as you run your hands down your front. That man changed your life forever. You’ll never forget that man, or apparently get back in touch with him. You’re sure there’s some stupid excuse as to him deactivating his Tinder. And maybe a decent excuse. But that left you here. Alone. With twenty-three five year olds.

Alone. All alone. It is what you wanted after all. Well, this part of your life you didn’t see coming or planned on it but it is what it is. Alone.

That word used to sound like a dream, and now it is the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Irritation of how one night of fun could make one’s life change so rapidly, while also you were open and ready for the changes.

It’s a moment of thinking your life would be one way, you were comfortable with your life of solitude. Accepted the life that was laid out before you as a thirty-five year old woman. Of course, everything did not happen according to your plan of life when you were a child, but you had come to the realization that it was your life, and you were okay with it.

And then there was Bucky. He made you realize some personal things. That you were a woman with needs, and you were a woman that was desired. Although not desiring more than that one night did do something to your fragile ego. That is not something you were ready to come to terms with. Nor the frustration, confusion, and yet clarity that came from that connection.

“Miss Fawn!” You look towards the student that was left. Her chubby little cheeks try to smile at you, but she is worrying away at her lip. “Do you think they forgot about me?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” you offer a smile, sitting in your chair, and you tap your lap. “Come on, we’ll wait together. The office has called someone to get you, okay?”

Her face turns up into a forced smile, but she walks over to your lap all the same. Crawling up, and laying her head on your shoulder. You look down at her a bit odd. She didn’t normally get too touchy with you, but clearly she was scared about being forgotten. “You’re tired and want to go home.”

“I’ll go home once someone gets you. I’ll always stay behind.”

“You’re nice. Next year can I have you as my teacher, too,” you brush back her flyaway hairs, but shake your head no. She is sweet. Adorable even. She is one of the more enthusiastic children in your class. “Why not?”

“Because, you’ll move up to first grade,” the sad reality of being a kindergarten teacher is seeing them so young and scared, and then they turn into these balls of energy, and they actually like you. But you have to set them free to another teacher. It is cruel in ways.

“Will I still be a chameleon?”

“Oh, honey, if that’s what you want your nickname to be,” she gives you a pretty little smile before she starts picking at her dress. Her little fingers convey the anxiety she has bubbling inside of her and waiting for them to calm with any familiar face to walk through the door.

“My mom hasn’t called since my birthday,” she rarely mentioned her mom, and it leaves you wondering what the best approach would be. If you were in her shoes what would you want an adult to say? But you’ve never been in her shoes. Your parents were miraculously still in love and still together. Freaks of nature.

They couldn’t understand how and why you were where you are in life. Your decision, your life. Leave you alone. And that’s how they had to approach you nowadays.

“Izzy, baby, I’m sorry,” that damn voice. You could feel the whispers on your skin as Bucky’s fingers entwined with yours. His whole weight on you as he slowly pushes into your body.

His sweaty forehead presses against your own as he begs, ‘Give me one more time, gorgeous.’ You lost just how many one more times you actually had. No one had ever made you feel so engrossed in pure pleasure quite like Bucky did that night. And he can nonchalantly walk around like that? Still sweaty and dirty from working and still fine as fuck. And thinking he can come in here and you not feel something. It’s just your cunt that feels it.

“Oh,” he stops halfway towards his daughter when he realizes that it was you whose lap she was sitting in, “Hey,” he struggles to get out your name, and the fucker scratches his head trying to look away. Was he really going to waltz into your classroom and act like that? Like nothing happened. But you have him stunned. Good. That’s what you’ve felt since that night.

You were already a bit irritated that Isolde was his daughter. You never saw that man cross the threshold of the school. It was always her grandparents that picked her up. “Daddy, this is Miss Fawn. I told you that you would like her. You’re doing that weird thing with your fake hand,” his left hand not so casually dips into his pocket, and you cock up an eyebrow.

Liked you? Liked you and then removed his profile from Tinder. What kind of ridiculous nonsense was this?? Izzy jumps off your lap, and runs to her dad, and he adorably picks her up for a sweet kiss before putting her on his hip. And your heart aches.

No! Don’t you dare find him being a dad cute. It hurts. Seeing him be a dad stings and pangs, and makes you want to hurl your guts out. Something that thankfully you haven’t done for a few hours. Standing up from your chair, you turn to go grab her things.

The room isn’t silent, but you hear it. Hear the giant gulp that Bucky takes as he sees you from the side. “Miss Fawn is having a baby. How far along are you now?”

You remember that night like it had just happened. How he had literally picked you up and told you how you were going to be positioned for him. How every bit of your body lit up with his ministrations. And the way that he made sure that more than just your cunt was stimulated. You even remember exactly how many days ago it was. It helped with determining how far along you were.

“I’m four months. You shouldn’t worry about that though. I won’t have the baby until school lets out. So what is your fact of the week?” Bucky is a frozen little bastard. You swear you can see his calculator working out exactly how long ago that was. Protection scmection. He had to have super sperm. Maybe you didn’t use your pills just right, but a condom was fucking involved. And even the way he took that shit off was sexy.

You could write poetry on how he pulled off the rubber, keeping his eyes on you while you gaze at his member, wondering how it fit inside of you. And with too much ease, he ties the protection up, tossing it in your garbage, and he still got back in the bed, and he still held you. His lips couldn’t stop kissing over your sweaty skin, and you were so high with euphoria you couldn’t remember his name.

Asshole.

He had to have one flaw. His? Sperm that could penetrate anything, and the ability to disappear.

“Oh, oh! Chameleon actually means ground lion,” you crinkle your nose as you smile at her, handing Bucky her things, and hoping that his parents pick her up tomorrow.

“Daddy, can we go to Miss Fawn’s baby’s birthday shower?” Her chubby little hand presses against his cheek, and she forces him to look at her, and not you any longer. He was part of making this baby, but you didn’t need him. If he wanted to ghost you, he could. You had savings. You had your own place. You had the space. And you didn’t need Bucky Barnes.

You just still really really want him. And only a small part of you wanted him to make you whine as he rails into you. “Baby shower, Izzy. And I don’t think I need students coming. How about when you get home you show your daddy the book you made about chameleons?”

“Have…you’ve always been her teacher?” He’s observant.

“Mhmm,” this is so awkward. Could he just go already? You didn’t need him to gawk at your swollen belly where his donation was growing. You were getting to the point you were going to shout in front of his daughter that he knocked you up, but you didn’t need him. Or his money. If he didn’t want to be in your life, who cares? Definitely not you, and your romantic ideas. Or even just the thought of having him again. No! Stop that. Hormones. It definitely wasn’t your body betraying you as it craved Bucky’s touch, and his cock.

“I…I should call,” no, he should leave you alone. Just like he did four months ago.

“You don’t have my number.”

“I deleted the app. And then realized I didn’t have your number, and then couldn’t remember my login information, and,” he takes a deep inhale, and your mushy hormonal brain can’t handle this information. You were in no way ready to process whatever the hell he was saying because he didn’t have a stupid excuse. It was an excuse, but it made sense. “I…I have so many questions.”

“The answer is yes. And your daughter is with you. Maybe you should set up a parent/teacher meeting. My school email is on the website. Have a good evening Mr. Barnes,” he doesn’t want to leave, but he looks at his daughter, and back to you with a nod. And you’re left with conflicting feelings on what the hell that just was.

Sure, maybe you could have tried harder, but you just thought he wanted to fuck once and be done, so you gave him that out. But after all those years of wanting children, and thinking it wouldn’t happen, you looked at this like a blessing in disguise. But…what was that? So much was said, and nothing was said all at the same time.

Maybe you didn’t have to be alone.

And maybe you didn’t have to have a fantasy of an impossible man when there was something between you and Bucky. At least your body still thinks so.

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess @lecliff037 @w1nter-wolf-barnes1 @distractingbeth

#see through my eyes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x teacher!reader #single dad!bucky barnes #single dad au #construction worker au

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babydollmarauders · 1 year ago

Text

WYD NOW? — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!singer!reader

summary: in which y/n writes a song about her ex-boyfriend, 3 years after their breakup, and it gets back to him, leading to their reconnection

notes: inspired by the song WYD Now? by Sadie Jean. ending kinda sucks, but ehh i did my best. pretty sure i lost motivation for this halfway through it, but i tried to power through.

not my gif

*** JUNE 17TH, 2018 ***

“i bet, at this time in a few years, we’ll be painting the walls of our shared apartment.” my boyfriend’s whisper rings through my ears as i turn my head to look at him.

heat rises to my cheeks, Jack’s blue eyes gazing into mine.

“yeah?” i laugh, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower he took before coming over.

“mhm.” he hums in confirmation, his hand snaking up under the stolen shirt that adorns my body, gripping my waist and pulling me closer. “i’ll be playing hockey, and you’ll be a big pop star, my little songbird.”

i bury my face into his neck in attempt to hide the redness on the apples of my cheeks from the nickname.

“you gonna write songs about me?” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the side of my head.

“i already do.” i murmur, my lips brushing against his collarbone, causing him to shiver.

*** JULY 30TH, 2019 ***

“i don’t think i understand.” it feels like my head is underwater, my lungs burning for oxygen, but unable to receive it.

“we can still be friends, y/n. you can call me whenever.” Jack sits on my bed, gripping my hands in his hold. “the future is just, so far away and we don’t know what’ll happen.

“i don’t want my dreams to hold you back from achieving yours, y/n. you may not see it right now, but this just seems like the best option for now. and maybe, down the line, once we’re both at a stable place in our careers, if we’re both single, we can revisit us.”

my head is bobbing ‘yes’ but my heart is screaming ‘no!’

it’s like my brain understands where he’s coming from, that he’s being logical and that he’s doing this for the greater good of both of us; no matter what we’ve always thought, we’re still just kids, we were dreaming. but my heart isn’t getting that message. all my heart knows is that it’s being crushed into a thousand pieces and it feels pretty unsalvageable right now.

“are you okay?”

it’s my instinct to tell him ‘yes’. my instinct to not let him know how much he’s really hurting me. how much i want to scream that we’ll be fine. that i would give up my dream to be by his side while he accomplishes his. but i know that would just hurt him; because that isn’t what he wants.

he may be hurting me, but he’s doing it for all the right reasons. he doesn’t want me to push my dreams aside for his, because he wants to see me living them. he wants the best for me.

“yeah, i’m okay. i understand.”

*** PRESENT: SOCIAL MEDIA ***

y/nonthegram

liked by tatemcrae and 246,517 others

y/nonthegram in your faded t-shirt

that i’ve kept this long

i still hear you laughing

Load more comments

user13 NEW LYRICS??

user92 that’s what i was thinking too! seems too poetic to just be a caption

trevorzegras hey that looks familiar

user57 OH MY GOD NEW MUSIC?

user04 AHHH ANNOUNCE A NEW ALBUM PLEASE

user6 I’LL EVEN JUST TAKE A NEW SINGLE! I JUST NEED NEW MUSIC

tatemcrae my best friend writes the best captions

y/nonthegram MY best friend writes the best songs

tatemcrae says you!

user83 new love song? break-up song? both?

colecaufield what’s this 👀

y/nonthegram

liked by trevorzegras and 283,752 others

y/nonthegram surprise! ‘WYD Now?’ out tonight at midnight.

wholly written in my bedroom at 2am, this song means the absolute most to me, and i hope some of you can find comfort in it like i have <3

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user04 OH MY GOD! THANK YOU FOR BLESSING OUR EARS TONIGHT!

colecaufield so proud of you!

y/nonthegram thank you, coley ♥️

user94 since when does she know nhl players?

user63 she went to high school with some of the 2019 draft class

user72 I CAN’T WAIT OMG

user18 SHAKING, CRYING, THROWING UP! I’M SO EXCITED

_alexturcotte our little melody makin’ munchkin, making moves!

y/nonthegram oh god please don’t bring back “melody makin’ munchkin”

_alexturcotte too late

tatemcrae GO BEST FRIEND THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND

y/nonthegram LEMME KISS YOUR FACE!! MWAH!!

user55 i’m so curious to hear these lyrics 😭 how am i gonna wait 8 more hours?!

jackhughes

liked by y/nonthegram and 352,850 others

jackhughes 3/3

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user77 hey wait, didn’t @/y/nonthegram date Jack in high school? is the new song yesterday about him?

user55 yess! it’s gotta be!

trevorzegras dizzyyy

user91 you should go listen to y/n’s new song 👀

user02 have you heard ‘WYD Now?’ ???

user36 omg he remembered to post 3/3

colecaufield same time next summer? 🫡

subbanator 🚀

y/nonthegram

liked by jackhughes and 227,951 others

y/nonthegram i’m so grateful for all the love on ‘WYD Now?’ these past couple days! thank you all! <3

here’s some photos @/tatemcrae took at our song celly night last night to celebrate the release of WYD Now? and greedy!

in celebration, i’ll be answering some questions in the comments!

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user74 is the song fictional? or was it inspired by someone?

y/nonthegram not fictional <3

user99 is this a single off the upcoming album? or just a normal song?

y/nonthegram the album is still being written, so i can’t confirm or deny if this is a single because i’m not sure yet if it’ll be on the track list! <3

colecaufield omg y/n please come to Montreal! i love you so much! you’re my idol!

y/nonthegram hey remember that time i bumped you with my car? i think we should do that again! i’ll stomp on the gas this time!

colecaufield omg you noticed me!!

user42 at 18, where did you imagine yourself being at this age?

y/nonthegram New Jersey <3

trevorzegras where did he set the bar?

y/nonthegram above the moon

user28 if the song isn’t fictional, then who’s it about?

user96 it’s 100% about jack hughes. if you scroll way down on her page, there’s pics of her and jack in high school, but they stop when they were 18. then he moved to new jersey and now he’s playing hockey, like the song states “you finally got the job you like”. that we’re all aware of, she didn’t have any other boyfriends in high school. she and jack seemingly dated from ages 16-18 until he left for the NHL

liked by y/nonthegram

_quinnhughes 💙

user10 this song was amazing! i really related and it made me feel so seen!

user88 big question is: has jack heard the song yet?

jackhughes call me?

user98 @/user88 if he hadn’t, i’m guessing he has now

*** PRESENT: REAL LIFE ***

my heart races as the notification comes through.

i wasn’t sure if he listened to my music, or if the song would get back to him. i just needed to get my feelings down on paper, and then it turned into a song, and then i liked it too much to not release it.

the night i wrote it, i had played a small show in New York, and i could’ve sworn i saw him in the back of the venue. of course, i knew it wasn’t, but it had rattled me; bringing all my feelings for him back to the forefront of my brain.

“call him.” my head snaps up to face my best friend, her eyes soft as she looks at me from the doorway.

“i-” Tate cuts me off with a shake of her head.

“don’t make excuses, y/n. call him.” she repeats, “you deserve to be happy, and from what you’ve told me, he makes you happy.”

she doesn’t stick around; instead bidding me goodbye and heading back to my guest room to give me some privacy.

i pace my bedroom, iphone clutched in my hand. his contact is pulled up, but i can’t seem to build up the nerve to call him. though, it seems i don’t have to, because my phone begins to ring instead, Jack’s photo displaying on the screen.

“hi.” i breathe out, pressing the phone to my ear.

“hi.” he repeats. “i heard your new song. i’m so proud of you, my little songbird.”

my face heats up, blood rushing to my cheeks. i haven’t heard that nickname in almost four years.

“thank you.” my words come out a whisper, still in disbelief that i’m talking to him again.

“did you mean it?” the question causes a panic to erupt in me, swarms of butterflies erupting in my nervous system.

“did i mean what, Jacky?” i need him to say it.

“what you wrote,” he clears his throat, “in the song. did you mean it all? do you still think of me? do you really wanna try again?”

laying sprawled out on my bed, i stare up at the ceiling as i speak.

“i wouldn’t have written it if it wasn’t true.”

“oh- okay. so, uh,” he stutters, but i can hear the smile on his lips, causing the same reaction upon my own face, “where are you right now?”

“um, my apartment?” my brows thread together in confusion, but he just chuckles.

“i mean like, are you living in LA? are you home in Michigan? what state?”

“oh.” i bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment. “i live in New York, Jack.”

“really?” his voice is emotionally distant and seemingly hurt. “so close?”

“yeah.” i nod, although he can’t see me. “i’ve gone to a few of your games.”

“you did?”

“mhm.” i hum in confirmation. “i just- i didn’t wanna be the one to reach out and then have you think oddly of me or have you already be in a relationship or something. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i just didn’t wanna be seen as that clingy ex-girlfriend or anything.”

“that’s not what you are, y/n.” he sighs, “would you wanna meet up soon? catch up? i’d love to hear about your glamorous new pop star life.”

“i’d love to. although, i wouldn’t call myself a pop star, Jacky.”

“you are to me.” i blush at his words, glad he can’t see how much of a mess i am at the moment. “are you free on saturday? i have practice in the morning, but after that, maybe we could go to lunch?”

“yeah, i can do that.” i confirm.

“okay great, i’ll text you on friday to hash out details?”

“sounds great!” my cool hand rises to press against my heated face in attempt to cool myself down.

“great. i gotta go, Luke and i are going out with the guys. i’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“yeah. bye, Jack.” i wait for him to repeat a goodbye before hanging up, burying face in my pillow and letting out a muffled scream.

***

my knee bounces underneath the table of the New York City diner, my hands clasped together on the table.

Jack should be here any minute, and saying i’m nervous would be an understatement. my palms are clammy, my legs won’t stop shaking, and i’m eighty percent sure that i have no skin left on my bottom lip because i’ve chewed it all off.

the little bell above the door rings and my head snaps up to look, but it’s just a young couple with their toddler. i send a friendly smile to the tired looking mother before looking back down at my hands that won’t stop fidgeting.

i zone out, retreating back into my head and all the thoughts that have been plaguing me since we planned this meeting.

what if he doesn’t like me anymore?

what if he has a girlfriend and he’s just trying to be nice?

or worse, what if he’s just asked me here so he could tell me to leave him alone? to stop writing songs about him.

“hi.” i’m pulled out of my thoughts by Jack sliding into the booth across from me, a gentle smile on his face.

his hand snakes across the table to hold mine, and i can’t help but feel like a teenager again, back when we used to have dates like this all the time; where he would hold my hand over the table and we would laugh and joke around for hours.

“hey.” i smile back, giving his hand a small squeeze in return.

“how are you?” he questions. he brings his hand back in order to hold his menu, but his focus remains on me, not even glancing down at the menu yet.

“i’m good!” i nod. “how are you?”

“good, i’m glad. i’m good too.”

we’re interrupted by a waitress, taking a second to look over our menu’s before giving her our orders.

once she retreats, i squirm from the small talk, never having been any good at it. which Jack seems to remember.

“so, how’s the pop star life?” he smirks teasingly, and i giggle.

“not a pop star.” i remind him, shaking my head. “but it’s good. i like where i’m at right now in my career. i like having a strong fanbase but still being unknown enough that i’m not being hounded on or followed like, say, Taylor Swift.

“i’m able to just write my music and put it out, go on small tours, interact with my fans on a more personal level; it’s really nice. i don’t know if i would want it to be more than that.”

he nods in understanding, a wide grin on his face as he listens.

“i get it. and i’m really glad you’ve achieved what you wanted. i’ve always rooted for you.”

“what about you? mr. ninety-nine point season!” he blushes at my words, shaking his head and looking down at his hands, which rest on the tabletop. “how’s that?”

“it’s good! really good.” he looks back up at me, and i have to fight myself from getting lost in his eyes like i would when we were seventeen. “i love it. it’s hard, it’s a lot of work, but it’s amazing. and honestly, i’m pretty glad i’m not on a canadian team. i like that i can go out and still have a pretty normal life outside of hockey, ya know? not be stopped on the street a bunch.”

“yeah, i get it.” i tell him. “i’m so glad you’re happy though. you play great, as you always have.”

he releases a ‘thanks’ before a silence settles over us, neither of us sure what exactly to say next.

i begin to play with the paper wrapper from my straw, winding it around my finger before sliding it off and gently pulling it straight again.

“so, Cole sends me your songs.”

snap! the paper wrapper breaks in two as i look up at him.

“he does?”

“yeah. you know i don’t get on social media too much, so i don’t always know right away when you put one out, but Cole sends me all of them. just in case i miss one.” he explains.

my head bobs up and down as i try to display a level of cool, “oh.”

“that doesn’t bother you, does it?” he asks. “that i don’t always listen to them right away?”

“not at all! i didn’t really think you listened to them at all.” i confess, sinking lower into the booth. “not really your genre.”

he smiles gently, reaching forward to hold my hand tightly in his.

“y/n, you could write a children’s nursery rhyme, and i would still listen to it.”

my head tips back against the booth, joyous laughter spilling from my lips. my nose scrunches, resulting in a small snort, which cause him to laugh as well.

“you’re just saying that.” i choke out, and he shakes his head.

“no! i’m serious! i would!” Jack insists, right as the waitress arrives with our food. she sets our food in front of us, making sure we’re all set before she retreats.

a comfortable small talk takes over as we eat; discussing our friends and their accomplishments since graduation.

“you remember that time,” Jack starts through broken laughter, “that you hit Cole with your car because he said he didn’t think it would hurt?”

“yes! and i barely even tapped him, but the big baby whined that it hurt so bad, i may have crushed his NHL dreams!” my face hurts from smiling so big, but i can no longer fight it.

“and then he was fine and back to practice that afternoon! not even a bruise left on him!” he retorts.

“ever the dramatic, Cole is.” i sigh, sitting back in my seat from position slouched over the table.

“since we’re walking down memory lane, do you remember how i said that maybe down the line, we could revisit us?”

i’m sobered up now, my smile gone as i eye him. he’s playing with his bracelets, a sign of nerves from him, and i just now realize that he’s still wearing the string friendship bracelet i gave him at eighteen; just before his draft.

i swallow the lump that built in throat, nodding, “yeah.”

“you think maybe now would be a good time to do that?” he asks. “start slow; go on dates again, maybe you could come over sometime for movie night with Luke and i, come to a few more of my games, where i actually know you’re there this time. and then see where that could take us?”

butterflies swarm my stomach, my heart beating rapidly in my chest, and my teeth sink into my lower lip, biting back a smile.

“i’d love that, Jack.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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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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kombuuuu · 1 year ago

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OMG WAIT WAIT WAIT

MILES (42) BEING ASKED TO PAINT A MURAL WITH THE CUTIE IN HIS ART CLASS

“You started without me?”

“Not my fault you’re slow.”

“Slow! Am not! I was — busy.”

“Uh huh…”

You have him a quick smile and easy stare, teasing him as you shook the spray paint obnoxiously.

“Stop stressing, Miles. I’ve only done the rough outline.”

His name rolled off your tongue so nicely, and he faltered for a moment as your voice rung around his head.

“Did you stick to the sketch?” A quick recovery.

“No. I went rogue.” A quicker retort.

He snorted at your blatant lie, and turned his attention from the mural above your head, to you. He watched you sort through paints, choosing complimenting colours to the backdrop provided by the school. A brick wall, not much but we’ll make do.

You glanced up, and caught his eye, giving him a curious look right as he looked away.

“You gonna help out or not?”

He fumbled, before ultimately deciding to stay quiet and nod. You watched him grab a light blue, and grumbled appraisingly.

“You have experience with this?”

“Art?” He looked over at you with a sort of ‘stupid question’ look. You laughed lightly and shook your head. “Well, we were asked to do this for a reason.”

“No, dumbass. I know you’re in my art class—,” You look away bashfully at the slip up. Not like some of your more personal works are of him, or anything.

“,—I mean — you grabbed that can with a lot of confidence. You got experience in vandalism?”

“Wh— Uh. No— It’s not.. Ehh—”

When you busted out a short laugh, quickly covering your mouth and trying to stifle it. His face dropped into a playfully annoyed glare.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Sorry! Sorry…”

A small tear lingered at the corner of your eye, and if it hadn’t made your eyes glisten so prettily against golden light, he might’ve reached out to swipe it.

“I’m no snitch.”

“Hope so, cause you just busted my ass.”

You giggled again, squinting at him and reaching down for a different can. “Better help me get that A then, Miles. Now I have something against you.”

You teased him again, and he gasped playfully. Indulging in your harmless taunts.

“Oh yeah. I just have to make this perfect now.”

“You weren’t gonna before?”

He watched you drag a smooth line down the wall, flicking your wrist off to end it in a fade. Then deadpanned towards you when your focus returned to him.

“You take every chance, don’t ya’?”

“I like to think it’s one of my better qualities.”

The smile you gave him had his stomach fluttering.

“Maybe you think right.”

You looked almost taken aback by his affirmation. Bashful eyes leaving his and a mumble of something he couldn’t tell if was agreeing or not boosting his confidence back up.

“Just—, Help me out with this, Miles.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Maybe he has the same affect on you, as you do him.

#໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა #miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles my beloved #miles morales prowler #miles morales x you #miles x you #miles morales headcanons #miles g

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ja3hwa · 1 year ago

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♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕: 𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬/𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬 - 𝐂.𝐒 ♡

You Make Me, Make Sense

【Synopsis】 : Halloween is filled with spooky ghost stories and haunted places. But what if you end up walking right into a nightmare that was hiding a dream?

『Word count』 : 3.50k

-> Genre: Dark Romance. Fluff. Suggestive.

Paring: Human!San x Succubus!Reader

[Warnings] : Mention of rape. Non-con [doesn’t involve San.] nudity. Imprisonment. Slavery. Use of the name master. Swearing. Withc craft. Kissing, mention of sex. Kind of character death? Lots of heart aching romance. petnames.

Thank you, @sanniesbunnie, for requesting San for this day. ♡♡♡♡

Note : I'm really proud of this story arch even though there isn't any smut ehhe. I enjoyed writing this style so much, and I'm definitely making more in the future. ♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

“Come on, please. Let’s just go home.” Seonghwa stated, hugging his chest with tight arms. Hongjoong was rubbing slow circles in his back trying to calm down the older male but in truth, he was just as scared as he was. The only ones in fact out of all the men who weren’t scared were Jongho and Yeosang. They all thought it would be a good idea, instead of spending one of the spookiest nights of the year watching horror films, they picked one of the closest abandoned estates. It also happened to be a church just outside of the city. So here the eight of them were, exploring the eerie run-down building. At first, they poked fun, none of them believing in such myths of demons or the supernatural.

But as they went deeper into the church, heading down towards the basement. Something felt off. And they all started voicing their concerns. Well everyone but San. For once he went silent. No longer say how stupid this trip was and how he was the only one who didn’t want to be there. He stopped cracking jokes. No, he was as quiet as a mouse and it made everyone else worried. “Uhh, maybe we should go now before it gets dark.” Wooyoung tugged on San’s arm, but the male did not budged, almost hypnotized in a way.

“Hey, San. Let’s go.” Seonghwa yelled from the back of the group. But again, San did not respond, he just kept walking down the flight of stairs leading to the basement. He felt the sudden need to be in the dim room below. Like something was calling from him. The voices of his friends were muffled in the background of his mind, and a thick ball of saliva was cut in his throat. The others had stopped in their tracks hearing the wind whispers and whales. Something was wrong, something unworldly. All the guys felt like someone had walked over their graves. But San felt a pull like a siren was calling a pirate at sea. Comfort and safety that hid nothing but death.

Everyone looked at him again before bickering amongst themselves, trying to decide what to do. But it was too late, San had opened the door to the basement and walked right into it. “Wait San!” They all yelled, but it was useless. The door shut in their faces, locking them outside. The loud bang of the old oak door snapped San out of his hazed state, suddenly and frantically looking around in the pitch-black room. His breathing quickened and he yelled for his friends calling their names out one by one. But no one answered.

He was alone.

Or so he thought. A soft smell of rose petals and sage caught his attention, seeing a small flame appear on the other side of the room. He watched slowly as candles on the walls, tables and shelves began to light all on their own. The room was painted in an orange hue from the fire, letting him finally see his surroundings. There was a large old carpet in the middle of the room, around it was some tables with or sorts on them. Potion-making material maybe? San wasn’t very knowledgeable on the witchy arts but he’s seen enough movies to know what it looked like. “H-Hello?”

He called out, desperate to know why he was in this strange room by himself. The fear he felt moments ago was dissipating quickly, leaving an innocent-like curiosity. Why was he not fearing for his life? Why did he not want to run and find an exit? He couldn’t understand, letting his fingers rake over old books and instruments before making his way over to a lectern. It had an ancient textbook open on it, showing a key to the book. He flicked through it, feeling the old leathery-like paper under the pads of his fingertips. But he had to stop on one page as if the book was calling for him to stop. There was that feeling again. The pull. The urge to do something? But what?

Read…

“By the forces of heaven and hell. Draw to us this woman fell. In dreams, she comes, but wake is stronger. Send thu an enchantress before the night ends to somber.” San had no idea what he just said aloud or what the language could be. Maybe Latin? He thought. Or some type of old ancient language. One that’s been dead longer than he was alive. He couldn’t explain to himself let alone to his friends once he finally managed to get out, why was he was here, nor why he was reading Latin. Nothing was making sense. Yet everything strangely felt right.

The next moment before San began to think, a shift in the floor caught his attention. Followed with a loud rumble, in the centre of the room it seemed to open a crack in the floor. San had to rub his eyes at what he was seeing, sure candles lighting by themselves might have been enough to convince him of magic or the supernatural but the large opening in the floor which seemingly looked as if hell broke through surely took the cake.

Blinking his eyes rapidly rubbing them in an attempt to see what was happening in front of him and then suddenly all the candles blew out and the light from the crack in the floor was gone. It was pitch black once again. Until a small pink hue illuminated his view. The soft light was pouring from what seemed to be two hard objects. Wait no, a person? “H-Hello?”

The creature that was laying on it’s knees jumped up, frightened from the noise. The creature was a mixture of pinks and black shades. Wings stretching out as if they had been curled up for centuries. And a tail, one so long it could wrap around the little demons body. It turned to face San and he had to hold his breath. You were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Your bright glowing pink eyes were wide and almost innocent. While your roses hued skin fell contrast to the pitch black horns decorating your head. Your long black tail swayed curiously with the glowing peach pink catching San’s eyes. You weren’t human, yet you looked almost human. “M-Master?”

Your voice was sweet, like a siren. It was smooth, and somber, drawing him in just like the book had done prior. Were you the one calling him with the book? But why? “w-who are you?” San wanted to ask what are you but chose against it. You stood up with wobbly legs, wanting to get closer to your saviour but you ultimately fell back down onto the soft dusty carpet. San noticed your weakness, moving faster than his own thoughts he was in front of you in seconds, gabbing your hands as if that would hold you up in a way. You gulped at his touch, sending a shock wave of pleasure towards San without meaning to.

He felt hot, like a motion of a summer heat blared through his veins. Your skin felt so soft, smooth. Unlike any type of silk San had ever felt. Now that he was closer to you, he was able to take a lot more details, noticing tattered cloth around your bust and lower parts. The only thing humanly in nature on you was a collar, with a thick padlock on it. “Are you okay?” he had to ask feeling a sense of worry with the chain around your delicate neck.

You looked at him with warm eyes. You don’t recall anyone ever asking if you were okay. Then again you had been a slave, bound to the very book San had just read aloud for over many centuries. Stuck in a loop of waiting for another to summon you. None of them freed you or even wanted to know what, who or why you were bound and alone. Every single man that awoken you only wanted one thing. “I...I’m fine master.”

It felt like he was playing such a cruel game. Trying to trick you into thinking he cared. But from all the experience you’ve had with men you know, he would be just the same. So why not start it yourself? Hoping he’d be quick like the others. You gripped the knot on the rag you wore as a shirt and started to undo making San look down in confusion but before he could voice himself your lips locked on his making him gasp. Why on earth were you kissing him, or better yet, why would you undress yourself? Your lips were so soft, so plump, almost hypnotizing but San managed to snap out of it, frantically grabbing your hands so you’d stop undressing.

Pulling away he looked at you with worry making you scared that you might have done something wrong; “Why did you kiss me!?” he didn’t mean to sound aggressive but his deep voice made you flinch. Lowering your head you could feel a tightness in your throat and a groan in your gut.

“I-I’m so sorry master. I didn’t m-mean t―will you stop calling me that.” he cut you off. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to understand what was going on. He could see you playing with your fingers, not looking at him but only at the ground. For a demon, you were as human depicted. He would have thought of some scary soul-hungry beast that hated the human race. But you were completely different. You were cute, shy, and definitely not a beast of any kind. Using his fingers, he lifted your face up by your chin making you look at him. His eyes were soft making your watery ones shift between his features.

“I have no clue what I did to bring you here but I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression…” his words seemed genuine making you feel like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. He would have been the first person to look at you like a being and not something to use. Your pink cheeks grew hot tainting them a deep red from embarrassment. He cleared out his throat trying to find how to express why he was even there in this dark basement in the first place. “I felt like I needed to read the book. Even though I had no clue what I was saying or if I said it right.” he chuckles trying to lighten the mood but you stayed silent listening to him. He had a nice voice, a caring tone. You never knew how much you missed conversation until now.

“Hmm…” You didn’t know how to respond. He begins to ramble, hoping that if he opens up more it will somehow comfort you. He told about his friends and why none of them including him really wanted to go to the church but since it was Friday the 13th they all decided it would be a great idea to scar one another. You chuckled, lightly making San smile. He was glad he was able to make you smile, heck even laugh. He then decided to brave it and asked you some questions.

“oh, and I’m San by the way. I might be a bit rusty but I know demons don’t tell mortals their real name…but could I ask; what do you want me to call you? Can I ask why happened to you?” His voice was shaky, heart racing like a sports car. It was silent for a moment but San waited, finding patience for you.

“It’s a curse. I uh.. angered the men in my village. They thought I was a witch and killed the priests' son…”

“Oh…” San was not expecting that.

“To be fair I was a witch. But I didn’t kill that babe. He was a stillborn but he needed to blame someone for his genetic ‘sin’. the village witch would suffice…” you looked up at him, giving him a defeated look. He felt terrible that this all happened to you. “they used one of my demonology books I was studying at the time and turned me into a succubus. Forcing me to please the same men that damned me. I guess all men love this idea to taint a creature other than human.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. If I could time travel, I would go back in time to stop you from being imprisoned. Kill every man that tried to hurt you.” he doesn’t know where this protectiveness is coming from but it felt like he needed to. Protect you from men, protect you from anything. Keep you safe. Hold you close. Have you as his—

“I...Uh, is there a way to unbreak it?” His words made your heart stop. You never thought someone would ask you such a thing. Your eyes swelled, lip quivering. Jumping over to San to give him a big hug. He wrapped his arms around your bare waist without hesitation, bringing his face into the crook of your neck. You smelt like strawberries, and fresh cream, with a hint of fresh grass. Your body sat so perfectly against his and your skin was so soft. Your hair brushed slightly against his nose tickling him slightly. You were so perfect, no matter how “beast” like others would say you are. Everything went silent again but it was not awkward. He just slowly stroked your hair, letting you cry against his chest, wetting his shirt.

Once you calmed, you sat up but not moving off his lap. Looking around the room you see some red candles, sage and other ingredients for a curse-breaking spell. Your hands dug into his shoulders while his hands never left your hips. Your tail swayed slightly, grazing against San’s hand. “Okay if I prepare the addictive’s then you can read the spell out…given I cannot touch the book.”

San quickly said yes, helping you stand. You wobbled over to one of the tables picking up things San couldn’t even begin to understand what they’d be used for. You directed him to take the objects to the floor where you were both sat. While you wrote down some scribbles, sigals? Defineifty sigals.

“Okay ready. Uh, if you go to the back of the book there will be reversing spells. Look for the one that says sex demon.” you said it so casually he had to stop for a moment, choking on his saliva.

“S-sex demon.” That’s what you were. He guessed that the men used you in, defiling ways. But the fact you were a sexual demonic being made his stomach turn. “I’m sorry…” was all he could say.

“hmm, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” You stopped drawing the sigal, beginning to play with the chalk, feeling a sense of oddness from hearing San be so forgiving, so caring.

“Will you become human again…” He asks making you step back into your mind for a moment. “would you stay the age you were before you were a demon? Having lost no time. Or would you rapidly age…” you never thought about it like that, feeling so giddy about finally being able to get to be human and yet you had no idea what would truly happen if you completed the spell.

“I don’t know… but anything is better than being this thing I’ve been for centuries. If I do become human again and I do get to live.” you hiccuped a little. “I want to see the sun again.” a tear spills of your cheek. “I want to feel the grass on my toes. Sense the cool breeze on my cheeks.”

You sounded almost poetic in a way. You old tongue making language sound more elegant than it was today in modern society. “I’ll show you.” he smiled. “I’ll show you the world when we get you free. I promise.”

San sighed, gulping slightly at the thought his promise could be emptier than he would have wished. But he wanted to be hopeful, not just for him. But for you. He needed you to taste freedom, even if it was just for a moment. Everything was set quickly after, and you sat down in the circle you had drawn up. You were ready, looking at San to give him the all-clear. “Uh before we start could I ask for one thing.”

He had been humming and haring about this thought. It rattled in his brain for a good few minutes. If you were about to die he wanted to say something, even if he sounded like a fool for it. “Go on.”

“We just met and I don’t even know your name but I’m glad to have met you. For the first time in a long time, it felt like my world was making sense. Like life wasn’t on its own head. You…” he paused looking anywhere else in the room other then your cute figure. “you make me, make sense…”

He didn’t know if he knew to himself it was a confession of love, or friendship or anything. The words felt right and he needed you to hear them. And before he could take back anything playing it off as he was being stupid you whispered something catching his gaze. And then you spoke again, repeating a single name a loud;

“That’s my name…and you also make me feel like I make sense.” you both had to laugh at how ridiculous the meaning sounded. But it was now your meaning. The phrase you both could secretly share.

“Can I kiss you one more time…” His voice slipped off his tongue before he could say anything. You blushed again, but not out of embarrassment this time but bashfulness. You nodded your head letting San jump from his position at the lectern stepping carefully but quickly over the markings before cupping your face to kiss you. It was a kiss you’ve never experienced before. One of passion, not pure disgusting, lust or ownership. He kissed you as if you were a goddess in front of him, giving him the pleasure of sealing your lips against his own. Not like some pig looking for somewhere to put his tongue down.

He pulled away letting you catch a breath, your noses rubbing against one another and your breaths mixing like a perfect combination. “I swear, you live and I won’t let you go,” he promised.

You giggled, “deal.”

He finally let you go moving back to the lectern finding the page he needed to read. Once you gave the all clear he began to slowly read the foreign language out. You had to bite your tongue, finding it a little funny how even though he is getting the words right they sound so choppy coming off his non-Latin tongue. The wind started to whistle and the candles lit one by one, smoke drew around you and your heartbeat slowed, then slowed until your eyes grew heavy. San got to the end of the passage finally done with the incantation, looking up he saw you hunched over on the ground. Your palm flat on the cold concrete and your tail swaying had slowed. Your pink eyes soon faded, becoming grey. While your horns turned a pitch-coloured dusting away along with your tail.

The spell was working.

Your skin turned from a soft coral pink back to what it once was and your hair, too. Everything was working. Everything was going to plan. And then a gust of wind rawred towards San, punching him back against the book shelf behind him successfully knocking him out.

San groaned, sitting up slowly while rubbing the back of his neck. His hazy eyes glance at all the papers and books around him. Wait had the spell worked? He stood up fast, shaking off the sudden head rush looking to see a normal human girl lying unconscious in the middle of the room. It was you. “darling!”

He ran towards you, dropping down to his knees so he could place your head in his lap. You weren't breathing, and he couldn’t feel a pulse. “Nonononono. Come one!” he rambled laying you down he checked your vitals, seeing your heart was in fact beating. He got to work, thanking his parent for teaching him how to give CPR. Starting compressions he counted. And counted. And then some. But you weren't coming back…

“No….I… I was supposed to show you the sun.” Tears wet his cheeks, as he sat there for a second, minutes, hours. He did not know anymore. He promised to set you free and he had failed. “I’m sorry…I’m so.. so, sorry.”

He hugged you, held your lifeless body tightly, until a lone arm wrapped around his neck. “Why are you sorry?”

“Oh my god!” he pulled back just to kiss you, holding you once more. You laughed in the kiss, crying tears of relief, joy... He had helped you be who you once were and you would never have to see the grim basement you were forced to call home ever again.

You were free.

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zippidi-dooda · 4 months ago

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Overblot design ratings starting at the bottom

DISCLAIMER: everything is ranked higher than Leona cause his toes

7) Score: 6.5/10

I think this is self explanatory-put shoes one, cause 1: ew, dirty floor may step on a nail and 2: you got long nails, if you stub a toe, the nail will break or be pushed back into toe and it will hurt, though I will say I like the "tights" or ink covering the legs and ankle bangles. The stitched rags are a cool idea but compared to other designs, it doesn't exude fear or an aura of power. I like the upper half though, it suits you and I like how the fur across the shoulders represents Scar's mane. The hair and makeup is nice, but the makeup is lacking compared to others.

6) Score: 6.8/10

The makeup is amazing, love the addition of the crown->that plus the shell necklace are a lovely representation of Ursula. I was surprised and happy to see this ob transformation but it's kinda just a darker version of Azul's merform to me so lacking a bit of creativity, still like it though

5) Score: 7/10

Admittedly this design is very plain compared to even the two before him, but it gains bonus points for changing flame color based on emotion like Hades' hair, the hair here is also styled just like Hades' so if we think about it, someone could have literally blowed his hair out during the battle like happened to Hades, plus I like the mask, similar to the masks that light up when you talk which is fitting for Idia's chatacter

4) Score: 8.3/10

Shoes are freaking amazing, the snatched waist, the tight fitting ... uh skirt, dress (?), the dangly jewelry, amazing, love baggy-Jammi but Jamil needs to wear more slick clothes like this, black and blood red suit him, makeup is great, inky chin pubes are ehh, turban is a bit over the top but it represents Jafar when he first gets his power which is fitting and the medusa hair is also representative of Jafar's transformation and looking at Jafar's dialogue we now know that deep down Jamil loves puns which is great. Will say that although each character gets a skin tone alteration when the ob, I found Jamil's most apparent and he kinda just looks ashy, but still a great design

3) Score: 9.3/10

So when I first saw this, I hated his crown, sun, peacock headdress thing but seeing it more and more, it's kind of fitting, Vil is the only one who could rock something so "extra" (I mean that in a nice way, idk the right word for it), and if it represents a peacock it matches with the feathers on his legs, and I guess the claws do too. Honestly, I think this design was more inspired by the Evil Queen in Snow-white and the Huntsman (I may be wrong on that, don't quote me) but again, it is very fitting for Vil as a character. The subtle hints of red are nice, love the crown and the puffed sleeves and the dark veil. All of it is very grandiose and regal very queen, very Vil, but the dirty collar peaking out (and kinda the sleeve style) reminds me of Snow White which can be fitting for both the Queen and Vil because they both hate the one people praise but are always overshadowed by them, no matter what they do people will remember and connect them to the one they hate, even if they had succeeded in getting rid of them. The corset's okay, just shows that the rose has thornes, makeup's okay looks like his dorm crown and makeups nice but not much else

2) Score: 9.8/10

He is adorable. Should I be scared, yeah probably, but he looks like an edgy cupcake I love it. Has one of the best makeup designs, love that the crown stays but just becomes more deadly, love the choker, love the spiked collar, love the high boots, his heart is displayed for all to see, double belts are always a safe bet, the painted roses represent the queen how things went wrong, the thorny vines wrap around him showing how sharp his words can bite, and the cards hanging from him, dyed in black like him are a lovely addition to the ensemble because it represents how even when gone mad, the Queen's soldiers dutifully followed her orders and came to her defense which, if Ace hadn't done anything, would be exactly the case for all the Heartslabyul students when Riddle overblotted

1) Score: 10/10

I mean, come on now, look at him. I love the minty skin tone here its representative of Maleficent and really suits him. The cape shifting from purple to thorny green flames is also representative of Maleficent at the end of the film which I love, the crossing cage on his chest and under his skirt reminds me of the gates/windows/doors patterns of the time Sleeping Beauty is based in and we know he love architecture so points there, the style of the shoes/tights also look like the style if the time a little dorky but cute. He wears bangles and ink runs up his shoulders but I think it's interesting his arms and hands are mostly uncovered which is uncommon in almost all of the ob forms. The design of his corset is nice, don't really get the point of the belt tied in front but hey if it come down to it, grab and throw him over your should then sprint away, he'll be thrown off for a second but greatly angered afterward but hey distraction. The hair brushed back really seems to make him look more royal than he normally does which is nice and we can see his scales which are perfectly enhanced by the makeup outlining them. Now, I do like the green glowing between the plates of his tail but seeing the same pattern going on in his horns throws me off since I think I got too used to seeing his normal horns, his horns do look longer here but I'm not entirely sure that's true or if its just an optical illusion cause of the colors. Overall, the true extent of his strength and power are showcased clearly in this form which I think is great, and I see his cape is still dragging on the floor despite his height and the fact that he's floating so I need to see him walk down the stairs and swish his cape around like Mother Gothel

And that's it, what ranking would you give these Overblot forms? Which one would you wear?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst rambles #design rating #character design #twst overblot #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia

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windvexer · 6 months ago

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Heyy! If it’s not too much of a hassle what are some divination tips for tarot? Sometimes it feels like I am really good and than other times it’s like ehh

Sure, I could use a break before I start crocheting again 😅

I want to emphasize that tarot is one of those things where people really build up personal beliefs around it, so the following is in no way universal. It's all just what I currently feel and believe, heavily influenced by my beliefs as a spirit-working witch.

Most of the actual tips are at the end. I hope this helps!

Structures and Methodology

Tarot can't "magically" come up with valid answers no matter how it's put into use. It's a hammer and a screw situation; sometimes, using the tool incorrectly is less than useless.

Not all tarot spreads are very useful. The type of spread can have a huge influence on success. Try setting aside 'one question per card' spreads and see if that helps improve consistency in your results.

Not all tarot meanings are very useful. Tarot card meanings evolve and change over time. Modern meanings tend to be much more heavily skewed towards topics of introspection and self-help. Try reading books about the history and interpretations of tarot cards themselves to expand your understanding of each card. I recommend The Mystical Origins of the Tarot by Paul Huson for a strictly historical look.

Not all tarot questions are very useful. Learning how to phrase and frame questions, along with how to select a spread to place them in, are vital skills for the reader. Try focusing on strictly defined, open-ended questions.

Not every tarot deck is useful for every reader. It can come down to art and author meanings, but it can also come down to personal connection: a deck may work great for you for reading some types of questions, but fall flat on other types; or be more hit-or-miss. If you have multiple decks, try rotating between them or doing deck interviews to discover what types of questions they best address.

Memorizing the cards is not necessarily useful. It's not just that there are 78 cards, with 78 potential reversed meanings, each card in and of itself potentially having multiple meanings; it's also that depending on context, the core meaning can entirely change. Professional readers at events will pull out the guidebook and look up card meanings. There is no actual reason to try and memorize the cards unless you really just want to.

It's useful to have a map that helps navigate the cards. By adopting simple structures that paint large parts of the deck with broad meaning, interpretations can be easier to tackle. Another popular 'map' is the Fool's Journey.

You don't have to use the entire deck for every reading. Only using some parts of a deck to read is called reading with a restricted deck, and I really recommend practicing it as a way to develop a relationship with the deck structure. It can also be a very useful way to focus readings on one area of life (e.g., a new business venture reading may be read using only Wands and Pentacles).

That being said,

Check to see if cards are accidentally missing. Reading with a restricted deck is one thing, but I find my readings go weird if a card accidentally fell out and is lost.

You should take notes on your readings. I know it's a hassle, but the information you can glean and analyze from your own work is invaluable to figuring a lot of stuff out, like, what kinds of spreads work best for me? And what kinds of questions do I excel or fail at? Because next comes...

Energy and Individuality

Some questions are more draining or difficult to read than other questions. Here are my illustrated beliefs on the matter, explaining why some questions that seem straightforward can be nigh impossible to grasp. Try taking notes on the scope of the questions you can answer well.

Not all diviners are equally skilled at reading on all things. A diviner may have a special talent for certain types of questions (such as the outcomes of new ventures, or navigating the inner landscape), yet may fall flat when it comes to other questions (relationships or social intent, for example).

Any specific situation may have barriers to being read clearly. This is true even of mundane situations not expected to have magical influence. Sometimes, a certain situation, person, or concept will be shielded from view - and that can have nothing to do with the reader or querent.

Celestial timing may be a factor. Things like moon phase, time of year, or time of day can sometimes influence people's abilities to easily connect or easily interpret cards. Try paying attention to timing as part of note-taking and see if that's a factor.

Caffeine, drugs, alcohol, and rest can be a factor. Once I reach a certain level of fatigue (usually before bedtime) I can't read at all. Caffeine can sometimes also "close the veil" for me and limit me from being able to interpret readings. It might not be a factor for everyone, but it's something to pay attention to!

For practitioners, metaphysical workings can use up all available energy for divination. I find that my "pool" of magical energy feeds both my divination and my spellwork. Exhausting myself in one area (such as doing lots of energy work exercises) means I have exhausted myself in another area (no juice left for readings).

Witchcraft and Magic

Spells and wards can affect your ability to perform divination, sometimes in weird and unexpected ways. Go through spell notes to see if there is a chance prior, ongoing spells may be messing with your ability to read on certain questions. A big giveaway is when divination doesn't seem to work well specifically within a warded area, but this isn't a strict rule.

Prepare a place of reading, or reading cloth, enchanted to assist with finding answers. By consecrating and tending to such a place, such as a divinatory altar or divinatory reading mat, powers of far seeing, truth, and accuracy can be accumulated and much more easily raised. For those that have the space, a full divinatory altar can be an extraordinary tool. For such places, especially consider the power of symbols which open roads and gates.

Prepare a Charm of True Reading. Find, or develop, a small rhyme, charm, or prayer that calls on powers which support you and requests that your upcoming reading be clear and true. Repeat this before each reading, as desired.

Prepare an oil. A skin-safe carrier oil steeped with bay laurel, star anise, and lavender; or just bay leaf if the grocery store fails you, can be enchanted (especially under the full moon) to assist with opening the second sight and securing more accurate readings. Dab some on your forehead, ideally along with the Charm of True Reading.

Prepare a head covering. For some people, covering the head and/or partially blocking vision, can assist with entering divinatory headspace and with the receipt of visions and intuitive connections. As much as I like fancy things, I often end up using sunglasses and a hat. Being in a dark room might help as well, especially if you can get a candle in there.

Prepare incense. Here again bay laurel, star anise, and lavender can serve if you're able to powder and burn your own blends (remember to enchant them); but an enchanted stick of commercial incense will be fine (in any scent). Enchant the incense for the purpose of casting away doubt and influences that cause ill-sight, and to create an energetic haven where answers readily arrive to be interpreted by you, the reader.

Cast a circle. If you like to write your own rituals, especially focus on the concept of the circle being a liminal space between time that connects the worlds, almost like Grand Central Station where many threads of fate (and information) meet.

Consecrate your deck. Use any consecration ritual you like, but especially one that employs powers supportive of divination, true seeing, and psychism. This is almost certainly best done on a full moon. Consecrate your deck to be a tool which can peer into the threads of fate on your behalf, and then only reflect absolute truth back to you.

Enchant a tool to nurture and safeguard your decks. A lovely amethyst stone or clear quartz (or any variety of stone, bought or found), maybe one marked as special by putting it in a handy net, can be enchanted to be a protector of any deck it sits on. The value of this is to keep the deck enthroned in an additional layer of protection against untruth, but also to keep it bathed in energy related to divination and psychism. For those worried about decks getting magically "dirty," this is a good solution.

Also, cleansing decks sometimes is necessary, but it can be an easy operation. I find that spreading the entire deck face-down and mixing up all the cards in a big pile provides an adequate cleansing much of the time.

Spirit Work

Show your deck some love by providing it with offerings and a shrine, just as you would for an honored spirit. If the shrine isn't possible, an offering is excellent - maybe once weekly or monthly (depending on how often you use it), and even a small offering before each reading is useful. In my beliefs, this action goes far beyond making a deck happy with you - it can provide real, tangible effects on energy drain and the 'power' of your readings.

Petition gods, ancestors, or helper spirits. Beyond a Charm of True Reading, simply praying to helpful and benevolent powers to provide an assist can be really helpful. This is also an important way to develop a relationship with a guiding divinatory power. Speaking of which,

Get in good with a god or spirit who is associated with divination, psychism, etc. The Moon itself is a very solid choice. Apollo can see the future, and his buddy Bay Laurel (whom itself can be worked with as a divinatory spirit) can pack quite the punch. The dead are often said to be very good at helping with divination, but necromancy isn't for everyone. A witch who wants to become powerful in the ways of divination is wise to seek out helper spirits who are very good at this task.

Don't forget the gods and spirits of the thing you want to read on. If I wanted to know whether or not selling something online is worth the trouble, I might not just ask a far-seeing spirit to help me. I might also petition Hermes to grant me special insight into his domain. You can even use other spells you've cast (such as a prosperity spell) as a "foothold" into a certain area, but that's a whole topic in and of itself.

From time to time, a spirit may cause trouble. Divination can sometimes be interfered with by spirits who are upset with us. General offerings to appease offended spirits, or to make nice with the spiritual neighborhood around you, are well undertaken. They can be done even if you don't know that you've actually upset anyone.

#answered #divination #tarot #witchcraft #spirit work #tbl

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skywalker1dream · 6 months ago

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bound together by destiny

note: ehh don't know what to say...hope you have good day or night, drink water and eat healthy, loves :3

Jenson Button x reader, childhood friends to lovers

warning: fluff

In the small town, where the rolling hills kissed the sky and the rivers whispered secrets to the wind, Jenson Button and You were inseparable. From the moment you two met on the playground, your friendship ignited like a spark in the darkness, illuminating your lives with laughter and shared adventures.

As you two grew older, your bond only deepened, weaving through the fabric of your existence like an unbreakable thread. Jenson, with his passion for speed and adrenaline, found solace in your steady presence, a beacon of light in a world of uncertainty.

It was on a warm summer evening, with the scent of wildflowers lingering in the air and the distant chirping of crickets serenading the night, that everything changed. Jenson and you found yourselves sitting by the riverbank, the waters reflecting the myriad hues of the setting sun like a kaleidoscope of dreams.

As Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" played softly on the radio, Jenson turned to you, his eyes shimmering with a vulnerability he had never dared to reveal before. "Do you ever wonder what might have been?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you felt their heart skip a beat, the weight of Jenson's words hanging heavy in the air. "Sometimes," you admitted, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and regret.

In that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, Jenson reached out, his hand seeking yours in the dwindling light. "I've spent my whole life chasing after dreams," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "But the one thing I've always wanted has been right here beside me all along."

your breath caught in your throat, the realisation dawning upon you like the first light of dawn. Could it be that the feelings you harboured for Jenson ran deeper than friendship?

With trembling hands and hearts laid bare, you two leaned in, your lips meeting in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of years of unspoken longing. In that moment, as the world faded away and you two were left with nothing but the beating of your hearts and the rush of the river beside you, Jenson and you knew that your bond was stronger than any force on earth.

For in each other's arms, they found not only love but also the courage to chase after the most precious dream of all: the dream of a future together. And as they watched the stars twinkle overhead, they knew that no matter where life took them, their love would always burn bright, like a guiding light in the darkness.

As the moon ascended in the indigo sky, casting its gentle glow upon the world below, Jenson and you sat in quiet reverence, your fingers intertwined, your hearts entwined in the delicate dance of love.

"I never want to let this moment go," Jenson murmured, his voice a soft caress against your ear.

"Nor I," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "For in this moment, I have found everything I've ever longed for."

Their words hung in the air like a vow, sealing their hearts together in an unbreakable bond. In that sacred space by the riverbank, they shared dreams and aspirations, fears and insecurities, laying bare their souls to one another with a vulnerability that transcended words.

As the night wore on and the stars danced in the heavens above, Jenson and you found yourselves lost in a world of your own making, where time stood still and the worries of tomorrow faded into insignificance. It was a moment of pure magic, a symphony of love played out beneath the vast expanse of the night sky.

And as the first light of dawn painted the horizon in shades of pink and gold, Jenson and you knew that journey together had only just begun.

For in each other's arms, they had found not only solace but also the courage to embrace the unknown, hand in hand, hearts beating as one.

With the promise of a new day dawning on the horizon, they rose from their secluded spot by the riverbank, ready to face whatever the future held, knowing that as long as they had each other, they could overcome any obstacle that dared stand in their way.

And as they walked hand in hand into the sunrise, their hearts brimming with love and hope, they knew that theirs was a story written in the stars, a tale of two souls bound together by destiny, destined to journey through life as partners, lovers, and friends, forevermore.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #jenson button x you #jenson button x reader #jenson button #fanfic #f1

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stormyweaver · 3 months ago

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First Time For Everything || (Part 2/??)

NOTES: I'll add the title to my first part posted here, but I'm just so dang giddy to finally get chapter two up! No idea when I'll have the next part finished (I'm still figuring out where I wanna go with this little story) but I hope you enjoy this next installment!

TW: mess, brief mention of gore and potential contagion towards the end

“Hhhh? Ehh- hHEH!...”

Vox’s frantic inhales stalled on the apex and, once again, the urge to sneeze fizzled out into a frustrated - and frankly exhausted exhale.

It had been like this ever since he’d first started sneezing. He’d repeated the action a few more times on his walk with Alastor, and each one had been as equally full-bodied as the one preceding it. His torso ached all over, especially his chest and neck, not to even mention how dizzy the intense outbursts left his head. Not long after the sixth sneeze did Vox begin to try and actually stop what felt like an inevitable reaction, which had worked… somewhat. He’d managed to swallow down the urge enough to stop himself from performing the act of sneezing, but he’d done absolute jack-shit to stop himself from hitching and gasping like a fish flopping atop a sun-bleached deck.

And every time he raised a hand to scrub - fruitlessly, might he add -at the center of his screen, Alastor’s amused snicker would cause his muscles to tense. His companion had no qualms about enjoying his palpable misery - he was probably soaking up the waves radiating off of him. Actually, he had no doubt that that was exactly what Alastor was doing. It seemed that the more Vox sniffled, coughed and groaned from his malady, the more Alastor appeared to perk up. Fucking energy vampire.

As if speaking of the devil, Alastor released an inquisitive hum. “My my - I’m surprised you haven’t asphyxiated from all that gasping! Such a shame.”

Cyan-tipped claws rose to press along the front of his throat, which he cleared several times in the hopes that it would somehow clear away the gunk lining his throat. At least enough for him to speak clearly. “I think you’d enjoy that a little too much.”

Vox immediately winced after finishing his retort, and he could have sworn even Alastor appeared a bit surprised. He hadn’t done much… or any talking after the ‘discovery’ of his illness had taken place. Which in itself was odd but Vox had been too preoccupied sneezing or gearing up to a sneeze, or trying to stop sneezing to act as much of a conversationalist.

However, he slightly regretted speaking now: his voice was downright awful, a raspy quality and his consonants were heavily muddled with congestion. That he had expected, but what really reinforced his sorry state was how it sounded as though he was speaking through a faulty speaker. Or an old timey radio…

The thought brought a small bit of amusement, but it was dashed when he realized that even Alastor somehow managed to sound good through shitty audio. He just sounded… well, sick. And broken. Vox scowled ahead.

He would have kept walking had Alastor not whipped the length of his cane in front of him, causing Vox to flinch. “What’re–

“Ah, here we are!”

Brows furrowed, Vox finally looked up at the building they had stopped in front of. It appeared to be a diner of sorts. It wasn’t really all that distinguishable from other places he’d seen in Hell, besides having a more dated feel than some of the other areas in Pride Ring. But they were on the outskirts, near Cannibal Town, and after learning how frequently Alastor visited that particular area, it didn’t surprise him when they would wind up somewhere in the vicinity.

The building’s exterior showed a few signs of age - chipped paint here and there, but otherwise it just looked older versus not having been taken care of. The brickwork was still in fairly good condition, besides some moss growing along the left lower corner. There were two baskets of flora hanging on each side of the entrance/exit, but they appeared slightly wilted - from either lack of care or by design, Vox couldn’t be sure. It had a small awning just above the doors, with the name Devil’s Diner in a scrawl that Vox found a little… well not tacky but, just not one he would have chosen for an eatery.

It struck Vox as a decent place overall, just from a different time period. Well kept, while a little tattered in seemingly all the right places. Yeah, now it made sense why Alastor wanted to go here.

Once they were inside and seated, Vox groaned as he lowered himself down. He was thankful to just be off his feet, what with the long walk they had made just getting to this place. His head still felt like it was filled with a bag of wet sand, and his hearing was slightly obscured from a sudden, but dull ringing.

“... and I don’t say this lightly, but the bread pudding is absolutely to die for, hah hah– Vox?”

The sound of something tapping rather firmly onto the floor finally brought Vox out of his lethargy, just in time to see Alastor returning his cane to where-the-fuck-ever in a puff of crimson smoke. He then proceeded to lean so far forward in his seat that Vox was surprised he managed to avoid falling onto the table between them. “Dear me, you truly are unwell, aren’t you?” Vox attempted to mirror Alastor’s smile, though it fell short of being a perfect copy by a mile. “It’s probably just a twenty-four hour bug, nothing to worry about.” Though Alastor’s tone might have conveyed sympathetic to anyone else, Vox had a hunch it leaned more into the ‘Your misery is palpable and I’m loving every second of it’ territory. Actually, he was certain of it. Jesus Christ, had he really analyzed Alastor so much over their time together? Then again, it wasn’t as though he made it easy - it was that damned smile.

It never left Alastor’s face, no matter what he was doing or saying, an unnerving fact he’d learned after watching him maim one soul so ignorant as to roughly shove past Alastor while muttering expletives under his breath. The same breath had soon begun begging for mercy before his guts were splayed all over the sidewalk. This had been early into their acquaintance-ship, and Vox still had shivers whenever they passed by the same spot.

It wasn’t really the actual gore or violence, but the fact that Alastor had been grinning throughout the entire thing. As if he– no, he definitely did enjoy it. An “artform”, a term he’d heard the other use on more than one occasion. An artform. He’d never associated murder or even run-of-the-mill violence with “art”. Then again, there was nothing even remotely typical about the way Alastor operated. Not even a little.

So occupied with his thoughts, he’d barely even noticed when their waiter arrived, giving a sharp start before attempting to appear more put-together than he felt. Alastor ordered first, thankfully; though the relief was short-lived, Alastor stated his choice as though he’d gotten the same combination hundreds of times. Which, in hindsight, was quite possibly the case.

When the waiter - a one-eyed Hellian who resembled more of a blob than any even remotely human-form - turned to Vox, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t even taken a glance at the menu. He felt so exhausted, and the mere thought of food had his stomach gurgling. Apparently his digestive system was protesting the questionable eggs and toast, and the idea of piling something from a place he’d never eaten from or heard of before on top of that was out of the question.

Regardless, he ordered a simple burger and some fries, along with a soft drink. It had been the first thing that didn’t look complicated, and hopefully the bubbles from the drink would help settle his gut. Plus, he could manage to down a few bites of a burger, enough that he wouldn’t appear so unwell that his appetite was as shot as it genuinely was.

Wait- why did he care about how his plate looked? Was it the chance that Alastor would make yet another remark? ‘You’ve hardly touched your plate, dear!’ Oh, he could just hear it now. As if the knowledge that he was unwell didn’t already make Vox want to crawl out of his skin. He hated feeling weak, under any circumstances - but especially under the ones he had zero control over.

And to have Alastor poking and prodding every time he so much as sniffled was beginning to grow a bit old. Fast. As if reading his thoughts, Alastor’s chipper-as-ever voice caught his attention once again.

“Do you have a wire loose, or something to that effect? I dare-say I haven’t ever seen your antennae so active.” Alastor’s grin only widened when Vox grimaced. Shit. Catching his reflection in the window they were seated beside, he could see a rather intense surge of electricity crackling along and between his antennae. He took a deep breath - equally as crackling, and soaked with congestion - before half-coughing it out into his elbow. “It’s… nothing, just a glitch.”

Damn it all, why did his body insist on betraying his fucking thoughts? Was nothing sacred? Oh wait, it wasn’t, as he often needed to remind himself. It’s Hell.

So akin to a shark sensing blood in the water, Alastor pounced. “Certain of that, hm? Perhaps it’s a side effect - you are so ill, after all.” The emphasis on ‘so’ caused another surge of electricity, and Vox’s already taught spine felt a shudder travel down it from both frustration and… something else. Something vaguely familiar, irritating and– “I can assure you, Alastor, it’s just… jhhhust…?” Oh fuck, not again - not here, in this fucking ancient diner that was somehow PACKED as if to spite him. Alastor clocked onto Vox’s predicament rather quickly, as if bringing a fist to the middle of his screen wasn’t enough of a dead give-away.

The sensation still grew, despite the fact that Vox could feel the intense pressure of his knuckles all but grinding against his screen. It was somehow fuzzing around every single inch of his head, and simultaneously completely out of reach to actually scratch. He sniffed, which sounded far more damp than Vox had been intending for it to, before attempting to speak again - only to have his breathing hijacked with a double-gasp.

“It’s j-just… Ahh– hehh!”

“I do believe we got to that part, but I’m just itching to know the rest!”

Mother of Fucking Christ, he was going to short-circuit on the spot. There was no point in trying to finish again, not with his systems so preoccupied. Fuck, fine, just get it over with. Vox eased the pressure on his screen, before relinquishing his fist to hang in the air before mouth, which was stuck gaping as he gasped again - then again, his body finally beginning to do what it needed to. “Ahhh’hah…! hehh’hih’EHhh–!!... hh… hhgh?”

Vox’s lips formed an open-mouthed frown, his brow furrowed from more than just the prickling irritation. Which, while still prominent, seemed to stall just on the apex breath. Another sniffle, another bout of hitching that… also failed to result in a sneeze. Vox released an unsteady exhale that mingled with an exasperated groan.

Seriously?! He was finally ready to sneeze, and his body decided to fucking bail on him? What the literal Hell?

It only occurred on another failed attempt at sneezing that Vox had technically brought this on himself. He’d been fighting the urge to sneeze ever since his initial outbursts. He was so hellbent on not sneezing due to the discomfort and, frankly embarrassment it caused that he’d put up a mental block around even the thought of it. And now that he actually wanted to, really, desperately needed to sneeze out the infernal itch, his body was simply listening to what he’d demanded from it earlier. He wasn't going to sneeze.

He wanted to cry.

As it was, he could feel saline welling in the corners of his eyes, which were swiped away with a vicious, frantic sniffle. Before Alastor could open his mouth, he gasped out an airy, “I’m fine!” which decidedly did not signify that he was anything even in the ball-park of being ‘fine’.

He heard Alastor chuckle, and was spared the ol’ reliable of his smile with his tearing eyes wrenched shut. But Vox could still feel it, in every single receptor and nerve, it seemed to dig right beneath his skin.

“Oh yes, you’re the absolute epitome of ‘fine’. And ‘good health’ while we’re at it!” The only semblance of a response Vox could give was to cough in irritation; he was thoroughly occupied with the incompetence of his own body. And though it wasn’t obvious to him, Alastor’s patience had quickly reached it's limit.

The Overlord rolled his eyes and, unbeknownst to Vox, opted to take matters into his own hands.

Tear-soaked eyes had barely squinted open before Vox caught sight of Alastor's gloved hand in front of him, just a few inches shy of actually touching him but close enough to cause a start. The sensation stalled, but not for very long: a ripple of some kind of... energy traveled along the short space between them. And the irritating sensation seemed to double- no, triple in strength and intensity, and for a brief moment Vox thought he might be feeling something akin to pain.

But no, it wasn’t quite pain. Just the overwhelming, agonizing, all-consuming urge finally, finally tipping over the edge–

“h’EAASCHHH!!!” The first of many, he reckoned, if the steadily rising pressure inside of his head was anything to go by. There was barely a gasp before his body truly let him have it.

“eh’AKK’TZZSCHH! heh’IZZSCH! EH’TZZT’HIEW! Eh’KZSCH! Eh’KZCH!...”

On and on, rapid, intense sneezes tumbling out in a frenzied heap, one right on the heels of the other. Vox couldn’t ever recall having sneezed so much in his life. And apparently he was going for setting a record as far as his afterlife was concerned.

“Hh–! EH’TZZT! H’uuhh’ohh f-fuck-” Though thoroughly unable to focus on anything other than sneezing the now worsened irritation - fucking Alastor - out of his system, Vox winced as he felt the collar of his turtleneck become decidedly… damp.

His ports were- oh Satan’s balls, they were leaking?!

Hissing out another sneeze, a hand immediately flew to his mouth. Thus far the fit had been far too rapid, too intense for his conscious mind to think of covering. Not that the action did much, considering it was his ports leaking - though he could also detect a hint of salivation trailing from one corner of his mouth.

“Oh for goodness sake.” he heard Alastor mutter.

In the brief pause where Vox could only pant and anticipate the next flurry of sneezes, he winced as something smacked him in the face. Well, not so much ‘smacked’ as it was tossed, and upon feeling the silken material of the object, snatched at it and pressed it to the lower half of his face.

“You look an absolute sight,” his companion began, with zero concealment of his disgust, “If you’re not even going to bother properly covering, you can at least–”

“eh’GXT’SCHHIEW!”

“Gesundheit. You can at least have the decency to–”

“hhH’ZZSSCHH! eh’KZZCHH’hue! Kff–!”

“Gesundheit. Mm, perhaps it would be wise to wait until you’re finished with this little display.”

“hh’RR’ZZZSCHH!!!”

Alastor’s ears twitched back in response to the rather harsh, static-charged sound. Even Vox's body winced in discomfort from the feedback. “Goodness. If you ever do finish, that is.”

Sniffling pathetically, Vox managed to smother another trio of smaller, yet equally exhausted-sounding sneezes into the handkerchief. Or, was it a napkin? He couldn’t imagine Alastor sacrificing his napkin to serve as a snot-rag, so maybe he was just soiling his own.

Whatever. At least it provided some kind of shield between this awful cold and everyone else.

As if he truly gave a fuck if he was contagious. Though that did call to mind a question that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d even realized he was unwell: Could he spread this to anyone else? More specifically - to Alastor?

It seemed so out of the realm of possibility. But, in theory, he supposed it would make sense: while Vox outwardly appeared to be mechanically comprised, and certain, obvious parts were, his body still housed organic parts.

He’d found that out the hard way, once. It was still rather jarring to think about how he’d gaped in horror at his own intestines, but they pulsated and ached and appeared just like anyone else’s. He had a heartbeat, a brain that was… probably made of gray matter. Probably.

And he was able to catch a cold. So it stood to reason that he could spread that cold to just about anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire of a sneeze or cough.

Including Alastor.

Vox took his time in trying to make himself look at least semi-presentable again, mopping up his mouth and dabbing at his eyes before reluctantly moving to his neck. Though when he caught Alastor’s expectant expression, he sniffled thickly before speaking.

“Sndf! I… I think it’s over.” His weary gaze gave way to irritation, “You could have at least warned me before pulling a stunt like that, y’know.”

Alastor appeared insulted, scoffing. “I suppose that’s the last time I lend you my generosity, then! It’s certainly not my fault that your system is so terribly faulty.”

“I was perfectly fine before you decided to mess with me out of nowhere!”

“Oh yes, huffing and gasping as though you were in some amateur erotica - surely I should have let you continue on in all your obscenity! Ridiculous,” Alastor’s upper lip snagged in obvious disdain, a gloved finger gliding down his own neck, “You’re still leaking.”

Vox’s fans kicked into overdrive. “Oh, for fuck’s sake–”

#greywrites;#greydoeshazbin;#i feel like i have another tag for this fandom but i can't find it...#either way here's part two!!!#i'm still having way too much fun writing Alastor's dialogue #I think he needs his own fic one of these days... >:3 #snz #snz kink #snz fic

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