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xxwhiskeyxx · 3 months ago

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Mountain content..

I must ask

Can we get some AFAB Ghoul reader x mountain fluff?

Mountains been head over heels since they were first summoned but he's been too scared to tell them, so for years they never knew until Mountain gets his secret told by one of the ghouls

Possibly Ifrit because this man would ship them so hard and be a little shit about it

Just a thought tho

JUST KISS ALREADY!!!

Hello, my dear Evo, I'm sorry it took me so long to get to your request. But I have finally fulfilled it! Ifrit is the annoying little shit that gets his OTP together. I may have gone stereotypical, but I thought it was cute that went to your request. (Y/N) and Mountain have been in love for years, absolute simps for each other, but the typical oblivious goofball and the stoic one who refuses to believe that their love interest could return their feelings. But Ifrit has a plan, keep them seperated all day then drive the big guy crazy tonight during game night, just how will he do it?

-1275 words

I hope y'all enjoy this! I think it's cute with the little bit of steam at the end -Love Whiskey

Ifrit has been watching Mountain and (Y/N) pine and tiptoe around each other since the young ghouleh had been summoned by Terzo later in his reign as Papa; they had been brought to the surface from the Pit to serve as an instrument tech since they were a Multi ghoul like Swiss and Sunshine. (Y/N) was talented at each instrument, having picked up remarkably quickly on each once they were settled into the Ministry, but their favorite instruments had to be Bass and Percussion, of course, Drums being their top favorite (Sorry, Not Sorry :P)

They have been on every tour since their summoning and have grown close with all the ghouls, most of all the lumbering giant of an Earth ghoul with whom they share a love of music. Mountain and (Y/N) have been the best of friends for years and, without the other knowing, star-crossed lovers who are so oblivious that it hurts.

Ifrit finds it annoying that his favorite couple does not seem to know how to get together, so he comes up with a plan after listening to Mountain complain about (Y/N) being stolen anytime he wants to talk to them.

“Hey (Y/N)! Can you come help me with something?” The Fire ghoul calls across the garden as he jogs up to the multi. He grinned as he saw the (height) (h/c) ghoul perk up in surprise from their conversation with Pebble and Mountain. “Sure, what’s up, fritter?” They ask, tilting their head as they stand, brushing off the dirt from their knees. Ifrit notices how Mountain stares up at them from where he’s half kneeling, still chest height with the multi, “I have a favor to ask. Can you come with me?” Ifrit chirps.

(Y/N) smiles, “Of course!” And off they go, IfritIfrit smiling widely as he notices the giant get up with a huff and head off in another direction.

The Fire ghoul continues this the rest of the day, never leaving the pair alone. He watches as the normally level-headed and stoic ghoul gets more and more frustrated every time he steals the Multi away, not missing the glares he sends when he sees the himbo wrap a friendly arm around their waist.

But it all comes to a head that night during their weekly game night; Swiss and Sunshine had come up with the idea of truth or dare spin the bottle. Everyone took turns spinning the quickly emptied wine bottle and acting out the various inane antics and deep truths they had given. Delta admitted to having once fucked Terzo on the balcony of a fancy hotel, and that’s why they were banned; Cirrus performed a lap dance for Rain, who turned the color of the deep ocean in embarrassment before hiding in Dewdrop’s lap for the rest of the night, and Ifrit will never forget seeing Alpha dressed in a maid outfit (Satan knows where Special got the thing) and romantically dancing with Aether.

But things got spicy as the bottle slowed (Y/N). Ifrit grins as he sees his newest victim. Leaning forward, the Fire ghoul smirks. “Truth or dare, little one,” he purrs, watching as Mountain stiffens at the name.

(Y/N) grins, “Dare bitch, hit me with your best shot!” Ifrit’s grin only grows as he glances around the circle before coming to rest on his kin, who is dressed only in a muscle shirt and dark jena

Alpha chuckles darkly as he watches them blush, the former lead guitarist hadn’t been shy about his interest in the Multi with his flirting and open offers of them coming to him if they needed help with anything.

(Y/N)’ s face is a deep scarlet in record time as they glance over at the large ghoul, tail flittering with nerves, “uh..h..how long?” They stutter

Ifrit grins, “just one song,” already scrolling for the perfect song in his playlist. Swiss is already running to set up the designated chair for the dare, a deep red plush armchair (I’m uncreative, sue me)

Alpha smirks as he gets up, “cmon squirt, let’s see those moves.” moving to sit in the chair as if uninterested, even if the way he’s watching them like he’s about to eat them says otherwise. Ifrit watches as Mountain knuckles whiten as he grips his pant legs.

Soon, Minerva by Deftones spills through the speakers as (Y/N) stands, sauntering over to Alpha and swinging their hips as they walk. Thankful that they wore their ripped jeans and not the shorts they’d planned on, (Y/N) leans down to caress warm, toned arms as they roll their body sensually.

Ifrit grins as he watches Mountain’s rage bubble to the surface. Alpha smirked and enjoyed his show, his hands holding the Multi’s hips as they ground on his lap.

As soon as the song is over, Alpha is quick to tug (Y/N) into his lap and whisper something in their ear that has them blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl. This snaps the giant’s resolves.

With one fluid motion, Mountain stands and stomps over, scooping up (Y/N) from the Fire ghoul’s lap and heads down the hallway.

“So…game over?” Special chirps from where he’s lounged in Omega’s lap like a house cat

~To Our Lovebirds~

“Mountain! Mountain, put me down! What’s wrong with you!” (Y/N) shrieks as the said ghoul kicks open his door and throws them on his bed with a grunt. Within seconds, the giant is on top of them, chest heaving as he attempts to calm himself, “What’s wrong with me?! Watching you grind on that asshat has driven me fucking crazy! Nobody should touch you like that but me! Not Alpha, not Ifrit, not anybody! Not unless they’re me! I love you, and I refuse to watch someone else touch what’s mine,” he shouts, face softening as he sees the fear in their eyes.

Pushing up and leaning back on his heels, rubbing his face with the heels of his palms, “I’m sorry…I just… I’ve loved you since the day we met, and..watching him touch and look at you like that after Ifrit’s been stealing you all day was just too much. It… it’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” his voice hoarse as if holding back emotions

(Y/N) says nothing and stares at him for a moment before crawling towards him. Glancing up at them, “What are you doing?”

Mountain asks, confused, before he’s pulled into a warm kiss, and his world explodes with color.

The kiss lasts a seemingly endless amount of time, yet it feels like it ends too soon as (Y/N) pulls away. “I have loved you every day since you took me to the garden. Please know that I am yours as much as you are mine,” they whisper.

The drummer groans and tugs them into a possessive and needy kiss that quickly turns spicier as whines and growls echo under the door.

Just on the other side, a certain Himbo sits, giggling as his plan works. "“You really had to play the jealousy card?” Special asks as they flop beside him. “Yep!” Ifrit pops the P as he listens to the slowly growing noises that come through the door.

Special smirks, “How about you come with me, and we help poor Alpha through his horny heartbreak?”

They don’t finish their sentence before Ifrit darts down the hallway. Standing and brushing imaginary dirt from themselves, they hear a surprisingly low-pitched whine that sounds suspiciously like Mountain, “always knew he was a bottom.” they chuckle as they follow Ifrit.

#whiskey's burbling barrel #mountain ghoul #mountain ghoul x reader #ghost band #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #nameless ghoul #mountain my sunflower

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whispers-of-masser · 1 year ago

Text

Poor Form

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB, ft. Xelzaz & Khash ✧ Fluff, maybe angst (if you squint), slow-burn with tension; 2k+ word count ✧ Mentions of blood, (poorly written) fantasy violence ♫ "Ritual" - AWAY, Echos ✒ @dalishthunder come take responsibility for this

It was the grey hour when you woke, the quiet lull between full night and the oncoming dawn. From where you lay in the tent, the only sounds you could hear were the steady breaths of your companions, the breeze rustling by outside, and the lone call of a bird, faint and dim in the distance.

Slowly, you sat up, grimacing at your sore neck and shoulders – though you had long since grown accustomed to sleeping on the ground, that didn't mean you, or your body, appreciated it. You'd have to look into getting some bed cots instead. Until then, though...

At least we stay warm through the night. The oiled leather tent kept out most of the wind, and the beasts you'd felled along the journey had long since become the bedding everyone slept on.

A sudden snore drew your attention to where Khash lay, bundled in her sleeping bag beside you, red eyes shut tight and jaw slightly parted, her sharp little teeth on display. Across from her was Xelzaz, sleeping quietly on his side with his back turned towards you; you could just make out the lump of his tail beneath the blankets. And next to him...

...was an empty bed roll, the fur still fluffed, apparently untouched through the night.

Frowning, you pushed back the blankets, habitually reaching for your sword as you rose – just in case, always just in case – and, taking care not to wake Khash, crawled quietly out of the tent.

The morning had teeth. You felt it the moment you stepped outside, the cold biting into your bare arms, gnawing through the fabric of your tunic and raising goosebumps across your skin. Your breath plumed white amidst the grey, and the dirt underfoot was cold and hard; not even the morning dew had loosened it. You found yourself wanting retreat back into the tent and burrow under your furs once more, pulling them all the way over your head and falling asleep beneath their warmth. Any other morning, you might have done just that. But...

The empty, untouched bedroll.

You squinted into the mist, eyes searching, searching... there. A figure, seated on a rock several metres away, smudged and blurred in the gloom, but glinting a familiar gold.

As you lowered your sword, a sigh slipped from your lips, drawn from some strange mix of frustration, concern, and relief.

"...How long have you been out here, Nebarra?"

"Morning to you too, guar-face," the elf drawled, and though he didn't rise, his helmeted head turned towards you. A thin layer of condensation covered the metal, droplets falling at his movement; his bangs, escaping through the visor, were damp and plastered to his helm. "And all night, to answer your question. Somebody has to keep watch."

"Obviously. But you volunteered for the first shift last night." Frowning, you looked him up and down, not bothering to mask your concerned displeasure. "Why didn't you wake me or Xelzaz? We could have relieved you. We were supposed to relieve you."

"Oh yes, a human and a lizard! I'm certain I'd feel very safe with you two on watch. Your species' eyesight is so much better than an Altmer's, after all."

Your frown deepened, brow furrowing as you stared him down. It was too early in the morning for his snark.

Wordlessly, you brought up your sword and levelled it at his throat. "I can see that gap in your armor just fine. I could kill you right now – and the same goes for whatever may have come up on us in the night."

Nebarra gave a disdainful snort, gloved hand clamping down on your blade and giving a sharp tug. Unprepared, reflexes still sluggish from sleep, you stumbled a whole two steps forward before managing to check yourself.

"Poor form," the elf sneered. "You won't be killing anything like that."

Your nostrils flared, a dozen retorts surging to your lips, but you held them all in.

He's right, and you both know it.

"I wasn't ready", "I'm still waking up", "I wasn't serious" – excuses that could get you, and maybe the others, killed. How long had Nebarra seen this in you? Why was he only mentioning it now? Why hadn't you realised it on your own, that despite your confidence, your skills, your strength – you were still very much mortal? And when had that confidence become something more dangerous – arrogance?

"...What?" Nebarra asked suddenly, drawing you from your reverie. "You have that expression again. The one where you're about to do something stupid."

"Spar with me."

"Terrible idea, absolu... wait. What?"

"Spar with me," you repeated, staring into the black of his visor. "I'm getting rusty, fighting nothing but bandits and mindless undead. This just proved it."

Nebarra was silent for a beat, his head tilting to the side. Something about the motion reminded you of a bird; the eagle-shaped helm only added to the effect. You waited patiently for his answer, wondering what exactly he had to consider –

Metal, arcing toward your sword arm.

You barely managed a dodge and a weak parry with the flat of your blade – you'd been holding it low, unready. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Clearly, Nebarra was done thinking – the two of you were sparring now.

Fair enough. Enemies wouldn't be so polite as to give you time to gear up, either. And now, for once, the odds weren't in your favour: a fully-armoured Altmer veteran with decades of experience, versus you, young, disoriented, and unarmored, only a single blade in hand.

It was thrilling.

You sidestepped another swing of Nebarra's blade – only to connect with it a moment later, coming out of the feint you had failed to read.

Sharp, stinging pain. Scarlet, dripping from your arm.

He was trying to hurt you. And you were giving him ample opportunity.

You needed to ground yourself, regain your rhythm – something you couldn't do without an opening, and Nebarra wasn't giving you any.

A glint of metal on the left – block, step back. Movement overhead, an oncoming blow – raise your sword, throw your weight behind it, disrupt his momentum.

At least, you tried. Fully armoured as he was, Nebarra had an extra thousand angaids of weight behind his swing, if not more. The sheer force of his blow knock your sword out of your hands, sending you staggering back. But the grass underfoot was slick with the morning's dew, and you were moving too fast, too unsteadily. Before you knew it, your back was colliding with the ground, and all you could see was grey sky overhead – and a golden sword coming down.

Careless.

But there was still a chance.

Contorting violently, you grabbed Nebarra's arm as the blade sailed by, nicking your face as it passed. You didn't let go of his arm just yet, though. Instead, you pulled, leveraging your weight against his, abdomen taut as you used him to haul yourself upright. Nebarra, clearly not expecting such a move, found himself betrayed by his own momentum, drawing him forward and down, aided by your weight. Gravity took care of the rest, and he crashed towards the earth, twisting even as he fell to avoid face-planting into the ground.

As he struggled to right himself, you rushed to retrieve your sword; Nebarra was already rising by the time you turned back to him.

"No you don't," you growled, charging the mer, sword raised.

His hand shot out, a ward rippling to life, though it buckled slightly under your sword's impact. Nebarra staggered, his half-risen stance precarious, unbalanced.

Now. Now. Now.

Once, twice, thrice more your sword glanced off the ward – and on the fourth blow, it shattered, leaving the Altmer open to your assault.

Metal clanged as you brought your sword down, colliding with his gauntlet as he struggled to block with it, not given enough time to raise his own sword in defense. You let the blade slide off, intending to follow up with its momentum, but Nebarra didn't give you a chance. The moment the sword glanced off his gauntlet, he lunged, catching you in the abdomen and bringing the both of you to the ground.

The tussle that followed was a blur.

His sword arcing down, yours blocking. Hilts catching, blades flying, yanked out of your grasp and his.

Panted breaths, heaving chests, grappling and rolling across the grass.

A glint caught your eye – your sword and Nebarra's, just within reach.

He saw it too, the both of you reaching out in unison for your weapons, desperate to be faster than the other.

Leather-bound metal brushed against your palm – the hilt. Your hand closed around it, drawing it in close. Brought it swiftly upwards, blade against Nebarra's neck.

At its touch, he froze – and so did you. Because resting against your own neck, biting into the tender flesh, was the edge of Nebarra's blade.

Stalemate.

Ears ringing, heart racing, you shift your gaze from the sword to the one holding it.

Hunched over and straddling you, a leg to either side of your waist, there was hardly any distance between your bodies. The beak of his helm was close enough to brush your nose; your breath fogged on the metal. His gasping breaths may has well have been your own – you could feel them, swift and hot, slipping through the gold feathers that covered his face, carrying the faint scent of wine.

Of course, he'd been drinking. It had probably kept him warm through the night – and he'd still managed to keep you off-balanced for most of the fight.

You were in worse shape than you'd thought.

That, or... maybe Nebarra was better than he'd ever let on.

"...Tonight," you breathed, staring up at him. "Let's... spar again tonight."

Nebarra grunted; you could hear the sound echo faintly in his helmet. "Fine. Don't expect me to go easy on you."

A smile tugged at your mouth – you could feel your lips crack and stretch at the motion, dried out in the cold; you gave them a brief lick before answering. "What, and this was?"

Another affirmative grunt. "I'll be sober by tonight. Unfortunately."

You snorted, then fell silent once more. With your eyes, you found yourself tracing the curves of his helm, pausing at the sight of his bangs peeking through, dark and tangled threads of gold. Something about them was like an itch you couldn't scratch, and you had the sudden urge to brush them aside, or at least tuck them back into his helm.

As your gaze drifted upward, toward the visor, a glint in its shadows caught your eye. Again, you paused, staring intently into the dark.

A reflective sheen, a gleam of crimson –

"Are you done breathing on one another, yet?"

Xelzaz's voice shattered your focus, and both you and Nebarra snapped your heads toward the sound.

The Argonian stood just outside the tent, arms crossed, head bare of its usual hood, scales shimmering in the pale light. Beside him was Khash, a shadowy smudge in the mist; her wide red eyes seemed to float amidst the grey.

"Good morning," you said stupidly, even as Nebarra scrambled to get off you.

"Why were you fighting?" Khash asked. "Did something happen?"

"For your – obviously necessary – information," Nebarra sniffed, dusting off his armour, "we were sparring. And you had better get used to it. Our dear Dragonborn and I will continue to do so, apparently, starting today."

As you sat up, you distinctly heard Xelzaz mutter, "By the Hist." When he turned his head to you once more, there was something incredibly deadpan about his gaze, an unspoken, "Really?" in his eyes.

"What?" you mouthed back, blinking at him in confusion. He only shook his head, and have no answer.

"Right... Well, let's get the fire going again, and I'll see about getting us all breakfast."

At that, Khash's gaze snapped towards him. "Ohh, Xelzaz, can I have some Hackle-lo with it?"

"Khash, you've eaten almost my whole stock."

"Oh..."

"...I'll see if I can't spare a few more."

"Yay! Heh."

"Horker stew for you, Nebarra?"

"I'm too tired to say no... but I'll watch you every moment of its making."

"Yes, yes, as usual. And what of you, friend?" Xelzaz turned towards you, and for a moment, you couldn't answer him – you'd been too distracted watching the scene unfold, a smile on your face.

"Ah... it doesn't matter to me, I suppose. Surprise me."

And so, thirty minutes later, as the sun climbed through the sky and burned away the mist, breakfast was served.

But for some strange reason, all throughout the meal, you found your gaze drawn... repeatedly...

...to Nebarra.