#*happy ghoul noises*

[unpleasant-ghoul]

So far the best screenshot of my dragonborn, Orngwyr. Yea, he's creepy. And old. So, basically perfect.

[ominousposting]

so does fire taking baths w them help w their panicking as well? also does being around fire tend to make them eepy.

I think any of the ghouls would be able to provide comfort when things get mentally worse for Rain, Fire just happens to be the "go-getter" of them that goes. "okay bud, hate to say it but you smell bad. lets bathe. ill come with you."

Its not that theyre afraid of the water itself, theyre afraid of what theyll do in the water. having someone watch them or be with them while near/in water usually helps them calm down, as they know none of the ghouls would let them do that to themself again.

[succulent-mud]

HAISE YIPPE

I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCH, I LOVE HIS SMILE, I WANT HIM TO BE TRULY HAPPY

[inkskinned]

"it's so embarrassing you like that popular thing" "oh ew that geeky/strange thing is so cringe lol" "oh it's kind of weird you get excited about that harmless shit"

dude i love how ironic and jaded you are and that's so cool and sexy of you. and i am so so glad to tell you - you won!! we all had a meeting and we decided that you won, and we are writing your name on the inside of a burger king crown. the marker smeared, sorry, but we knew any form of real effort is ugly to you. but anyway. congrats! you are officially the coolest, most ironic, most jaded person in-the-world-right-now. we would throw you a party but you would think it was totally boring - and besides, we're weird so we wouldn't have been coming. we would have brought our love of beetles and of baking and of little canapes. we would have brought our artsy videogames and pages of writing. we would have written a poem with you, our hands covered in ink, and spread out a canvas to dance on, the night so lurid and pink.

but do not worry. we will not throw the party. we will just get you a ringlight and that crown i mentioned. it is a nice crown, except for where one of us dropped it.

the vote was a really hard one because we had so many cool ironic people to pick off the shelves. all of you have hands that rot fruit, how strange is that - you can't look at something without destroying it for other people. you like it when you can squeeze a person into a pinpoint - all us small ones scampering our little feet around our ugly joys. the vote was also a hard one because we kept our voices down because you don't like it when we talk too loud. you were on your phone at the time, talking to people other than us. you are a ghoul of every moment - half in, half out, you resent us for being here without shame or embarrassment.

so good news! we have invented an island for people like you. you get to go there and speak into the air things like if you still like watching harmless twitch streamers in 2023 you're fucking boring. you will say things like liveplay podcasts are fucking ugly and it's kind of awkward they try to make everything gay. on the island we made you, all of your words will have weight. they will form in the air like icicles, large white behemoth letters that will crumple in anvils around your feet. maybe we will send someone there once in a while to sweep, but honestly you might be there for a while, alone, waiting. we are busy being outside looking for mushrooms and flapping our hands and humming. we are busy kicking our little heels while we watch cringey tv. we are busy - sorry! as an apology, we have pre-filled the island with every bland, mediocre, unscented thing we could find. the island has the texture of american cheese. the island has an ocean that never gets angry. the island is perfect for you, trust me. you will be so happy there - as happy as you can be, ironically.

we want to say we are sorry for doing harmless things that you find annoying, childish, or unappealing - but we are not sorry. we thought we could help you, because we don't mind laughing at ourselves, but it turns out you are allergic to color and noise and atmosphere, so this is the best that we can do for now. we are all making a big shirt that says i voted in the ironic monarchy. we got you one that is just a fast fashion buttondown. i am so excited for you and this island and the big life you have won. you have a cool jaded grey life and miles of irony to roam. i love you! be well.

now leave us alone.

[xximperioxx]

Call It What You Want

Phantom Ghoul x GN! Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: a lil spicy (I couldn’t help myself)

Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SO SORRY. Seeing ghost on Saturday really got me in the mood to write again. For my man phantom. I listened to Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift while writing this. I’m a bit rusty since it’s been a bit so I apologize in advance but please enjoy 🖤🖤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat by yourself in the cafeteria with a book in your hand and a coffee in the other. It was one of those cheesy smutty-romance novels you couldn’t help but love. Maybe it was because you are in a desperate need of some romance yourself after your last relationship went downhill or maybe it was a great distraction. All of your so-called friends took his side of the breakup and left you in the dust. You couldn’t help but feel lonely sometimes but books were a saving grace.

Your face remained stoic as you read, getting lost in the words in front of you.

His fingers trace the shape of her body as her breath hitches. Stopping at the edge of her panties and gives her a smirk before he brings his mouth close and brings the fabric down with his teeth. She lets out a breathy moan as she feels his teeth grazing against her ski-

“Whatcha reading?”

A shriek escapes your lips and the book falls into your lap. You quickly cover your mouth at the noise you made. Heat radiates off your cheeks as you look up and see a ghoul. Your reflection staring back at you in the goggles of his mask.

You gape at him for a minute and remember he said something. He stares back in an almost giddy manner Slowly bringing your hand down from your mouth, “W-what?”

He grins sheepishly, “Your book,” he nods to your lap, “I was wondering what you were reading.”

Your blush returns and you wave it off, “oh, just some silly little romance novel.”

His grin turns into a teasing smile, “Sureee, that’s why you dropped it so fast.”

“You scared me!” You try to defend yourself but fail as a small smile fights through. His grin grows bigger and so does yours.

“I’m (Y/N),”

He stares at your hand in front of him. He places his in yours and shakes it slowly.

“Phantom.”

Your eyes glance behind him to see his tail waving in excitement. “You’re the new ghoul Papa summoned for the band, right?”

He grows shy, “Y-yeah.”

You sense his uneasiness and give him a gentle smile, “Well, I’m excited to see you play.”

His face lights up, “Really?” You nod and he grows excited, “I have been practicing with Sodo and I’m getting really good!”

You check the time and your eyes widen as you realize you're late for a meeting with Primo. You stand up and grab your book and coffee. “I’m really sorry, I have a meeting wit-”

Phantom grabs your wrist to stop you, “Do you think maybe I can play for you sometime?”

You’re surprised. An invitation to hang out with someone? It’s been so long. You give him a happy nod.

He jumps up, “Great!”

You begin to walk away before you turn around and give the ghoul one last smile, “It was nice to meet you, Phantom!”

His tail begins to wave back and forth in excitement as he gives you a wave goodbye.

Sodo stands next to him, getting hit with Phantom’s tail. He gives a shove to his side, “Cut it out.”

“Sorry.” Phantom gives him a sheepish grin.

“We got to work on that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Phantom continued to see each other after the first guitar session. He showed you tricks he was learning to play on tour, his solos, and even offered to show you how to play to which you politely declined.

He would meet you at the library when he wanted to see you. He would find a book to read and the two of you would curl up in chairs next to each other in the back of the library. Your heart fluttered the first time you had glanced over and saw him entranced by the book in his hand. His mask laying on the arm rest next to him, you got to study his features. How his hair slightly covers his face or how he bites his lip when he reads. You smiled to yourself and continued to read.

The following library visits turned to him picking out cheesy romance novels for you to read, purely judging by the covers, and you picking out some books for him. You both share a couch now and end up with his head in your lap.

You run your fingers through his hair, reading the page. Bringing your hand up, you turn the page and Phantom lets out a whine at the loss of contact.

You don’t notice, too busy with the words in front of you. Your fingernails gently scrape against his scalp. He lets out a choked moan. Yet again you don’t notice.

After a while you put your book down and glance down at the ghoul. You sigh, “You have such pretty hair. I hope you know that.”

A blush grows on his face but looks up at you steady eyes, “Yeah, well, you have such a pretty face. I hope you know that.”

Your laugh fills the quiet back section of the library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were having a rough night. You had seen your ex and ex friends hanging out together and it triggered a panic attack.

You sat, hidden away in a back aisle of the library, with your knees to your chest. Keeping your head down, you count your breaths.

Footsteps approach you. They stop and the person sits down next to you.

Peaking, you see Phantom looking at you with a tilted head. You shake your head before hiding in your arms.

You hear him take off his mask and feel him nudge you.

Not getting anything from you, he pulls you into his side. He didn’t need to know what was wrong, he just wanted to be there. He began to trace shapes on your back.

After you have calmed down, you place your head on his shoulder. “Panic attacks suck.”

Phantom hums in agreement.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you spoke up slowly, “Would you run away with me?”

It was quiet again. “Hypothetically,” you add.

He turns his head, “I would go to heaven and back with you.”

You stare at him with glistening eyes. You never wanted anyone more. You send Papa a quick ‘thank you’ in your mind for summoning this ghoul. You wanted nothing more than to lean in. Phantom smiles at you, “Hypothetically,” he adds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Phantom were the only ones in the practice room. You both sat on the couch as he practiced. He seemed off today but didn’t know how. He seemed extra twitchy. He brought up teaching you how to play again.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He pleaded. He slid off the couch and onto his knees. He’s in front of you on his knees. You’re definitely mentally freaking out.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not good with my fingers,” You pretend to play as a joke, “See?”

He grabs your hands, “Yeah, but I am!” Your heartbeat quickens. Your mouth goes dry and you pray he doesn’t hear the thumping of your heart. He pleads again, “I can show you.”

You don’t even know what to say. Does he know what he’s doing to you right now? “I-..”

He slowly gets up, hovering over you. He licks his lips and whispers, “Please, (Y/N).”

He nuzzles his head against yours before your neck.

“You’re not talking about the guitar anymore, are you?” you breathed out shakily.

You feel him shake his head, “Please let me touch you,” he whines into your neck.

You’re so close to hyperventilating, you can barely hear what he said. He slides back down on his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he looks back up with you with needy eyes.

You grab his face and lean down to kiss him. Another whine leaves his lips as you touch him. His skin almost burning to the touch.

The door suddenly opens and in comes Swiss and Sodo. You jump back embarrassed.

Phantom whips his head around to the other ghouls and growls. Your eyes widen at the sound.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” Swiss grins.

Sodo elbows Swiss hard in the stomach, “Calm down Phan, it’s okay.”

Quickly getting up, you apologize. You’re too embarrassed. You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for but it’s the only thing coming out of your mouth.

Grabbing your stuff, you head to the door, “I’m sorry,” you look at Phantom, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nods. Realization of what happened hits him and he feels just as embarrassed and guilty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Papa announced they would be performing at the Abbey, you were unsure if you wanted to go. It had been a week since the practice room incident and you hadn’t seen Phantom since.

Your thoughts have been too loud since. Maybe you offended him somehow or maybe he didn’t like you anymore. You’d gone to the library everyday in hopes he’d show up. Maybe you’ve read too many romance novels to still have your hopes up.

It was the night of the ritual and Siblings around you were buzzing with excitement. It had been a while since Papa performed for the Abbey and would be the first time the two new ghouls were to be performing on stage. Primo had essentially threatened you to come after you mentioned you were unsure. Needless to say, the old man can be intimidating.

The room is crowded and you make your way to the back of the room. You keep your head low, not particularly in the mood to see your ex and ex friends.

You felt anxious enough. Not only for seeing Phantom but you were nervous for him performing. He’s practiced so hard the past few months. You only hoped the siblings loved him on stage as much as you do.

The lights dim and screams erupt as Papa and his ghouls emerge on stage. You see him. Your anxiety disappearing as he begins to play Kaisarion.

You cover your mouth to hide your smile. He’s doing amazing. He displays such confidence you haven’t seen in him yet. He looks like a daydream. Your daydream.

Throughout the concert, he has become a favorite with the siblings as he blows kisses to the crowd and shows off his tricks like playing the guitar under his leg. Copying Sodo as he performs to the crowd.

You were unsure if he had seen you as the ritual nears its end. But Phantom had seen you as soon as he came out on stage. A light shined on you and he nearly tripped over himself. He knew if he stared at you, he’d get distracted and mess up the song.

The ritual ends with Square Hammer. The crowd singing loudly, nearing screaming the lyrics. With the final note, Papa thanks everyone for joining them. You cheer loudly with your heart full of pride. You need to tell him.

Phantom puts his guitar down before jumping off the stage. He has his head down as he makes his way through the crowd. He didn’t want to waste another moment without you.

He lifts his head up seeing you, you give him a small smile and little wave. He reaches you, pulling down his balaclava that was covering his mouth.

“I’m sorr-” he shuts you up by pulling you into a kiss.

You’re in shock for a moment before placing your hands on his and kissing his back.

Slowly pulling away with a smile, you both catch your breath. Your hands find the bottom of his mask, taking it off before pulling him into another kiss.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t care what anyone thought of you.

He pulls away first and looks down at you, “Hi.”

You grin, still holding his hands, “Hi.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, “You were amazing. I’m so proud of you,” you emphasized.

His hands caress your face, “I’m so in love with you,” he confesses.

You beam, “I’m so in love with you.”

The two of you walk out, his calloused hand in yours.

“So was that like a scene in one of your romance books?” He teases.

“Even better.” You cuddle into him.

“We can recreate the other scenes later.”

Your laugh echoes in the hall.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Here I am with summoning headcanons for the first ghouls told through Chain (my beloved). I'm pretty happy about this one, actually !

"Why d'you wear it ?"

Chain blinks slowly, lazily turning their head to look at Phantom, sprawled on the worn rug next to them.

The new kid is cute, they decide, a bit of a lightweight, so they stopped smoking a while ago. His cheeks are flushed purple, big stary eyes glazed over, a sweet little smile never leaving his lips.

Chain almost forgets they were asked a question, until Phantom tugs a bit more insistantly on the heavy chain looped around their waist. They hum.

"'s a lucky charm, stickbug."

Phantom tilts his head with a confused noise, wiggling closer until he can rest his head on Chain's chest. The water ghoul runs fingers adorned with bone tattoos on the skin of the young quint's arm, raising goosebumps in their wake.

"Y'know I was the first water ghoul summoned after the mess Nihil's ghouls were, right ?"

Phantom nods, tail swaying lightly.

"Well," Chain hums, "back then, summonings were messy. And now, with how much damage Nihil's ghouls had done, the Clergy was afraid. Everytime they summoned a ghoul, they found new reasons to be afraid."

Phantom shifts, reaching up to follow the glowing stripes under Chain's jaw with the tip of his fingers.

"Like what ?"

Chain sighs, thinking back to their very first pack.

"Most of them were ancient, powerful ghouls. 'Mega was the first...I mean, you've seen him. He's big. Sure, Earth and Air are taller, but there's that thing 'bout 'Mega, y'know ? Some kind of...aura or shit. Maybe it's the quintessence, dunno. Anyway, he spooked them real good, and Alpha didn't make it better."

Phantom wrinkles his nose.

"Uh oh. Alpha's spookier than Omega."

Chain can't help snorting at that.

"He's got a shit temper and an ego the size of a planet. Fought Omega the second he slid of the altar. Got messy real quick - that's were he got the scars on his cheek and on his stomach, and 'Mega has matching ones on his thigh, burn marks on his ribs too."

With a little gasp, Phantom pushes himself up on his elbows.

"Really ? But they're....really close."

Phantom's surprise is understandable. Omega and Alpha are pratically joined at the hips now, evolving around each other with an ease speaking of intimacy. Chain hums.

"Well, yeah. Suprisingly, once Omega made Alpha eat shit, it didn't take long for them to get along. I guess they just had a rocky start."

"Understatement."

That sets Chain off, somehow, and it takes a long while before they can speak again without being interrupted by their own giggles.

"And after that, Air and Earth were summoned. You've seen them. Fucking trees, the both of them. Looming above everyone. Air traumatized the poor summoners by screeching so loudly he made some eardrums burst. And Earth, well. Spat out blood and guts everywhere - not his fault they summoned him right after a successful hunt."

Rolling on top of them, Phantom pushes his forehead against Chain's, pawing at their shoulders absent-mindedly.

"And you ?"

Closing their eyes, they can still picture it perfectly. The dim candle-lit room, the smell of incens and fear, the anxious whispers, the rough stone of the altar under their naked skin. And that familiar clinking sound.

"Well, I was the last of Primo's original ghouls to be summoned. And by that point, the Clergy was rightfully pissing their pants. So, the second I crawled out of the pit, they threatened to chain me if I showed any sign of agression. I guess they didn't expect for me to find their shiny chain really cool."

Phantom blinks at them in disblief.

"You...thought the chain looked cool."

Shrugging, Chain ruffles the quint's hair with a huff.

"Y'sound awfully judgmental. Yes, I thought it looked cool. Hopped off the altar, took it from them, sniffed it a few time and decided it was mine. Been wearing it ever since - and got my name out of it."

They stare at each other for a second before dissolving in another fit of giggles. It feels good, Chain decides, spending time with the newer ghouls, telling them stories of before they were summoned and watching their incredulous reaction.

"You," Phantom pants in between chuckles, "are the least serious ghoul I've ever met."

"Part of my charm."

Phantom laughs again, and Chain doesn't realize they're purring until the quint joins in.

[ghoulsbounty]

From a Previous Life (Pt 4)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Preg!Reader

Summary: You and the Ghoul quickly learn that your actions—and your words—carry significant consequences.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy, doctor examination, sickness/radiation poisoning, arguing, angst, grief, yearning, rejection, slow burn, stubbornness, canon-typical violence, miscommunication, mention of blood/wound, reader throws things.

Word Count: 7.1K

A/N: It's been a while since I posted for this story, part 4 has been kicking my butt! Lots of angst and drama as usual, but the happy ending is on the horizon! I'd love to know what you think 💌

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

After thoroughly scouring the house and filling his saddlebag with every vial he could find in the basement, the Ghoul was adamant that you both leave immediately and put as much distance as possible between yourselves and the grim scene. You offered no resistance; despite the crushing fatigue that weighed heavily on your body and muddled your thoughts, you were eager to escape the horrors of that place. The pervasive stench of blood and decay had seeped into your clothing, becoming nearly suffocating, making it difficult to breathe and causing a deep ache in your chest.

As you left, you couldn't resist the urge to glance back at the lifeless forms of Mags and her family. The scene struck you deeply, like a blow to the gut that stole your breath away. In her final moments, Mags had dragged herself to her son, her fingers interlocking with his as she drew her last breath. That image seared itself into your mind, intensifying your desperation to leave until you were nearly sprinting out of the door.

The house now loomed as a grim testament to the violence that had transpired within its walls. Shadows gathered thickly in the corners, murmuring unsettling recollections you wished to erase from your mind. Each groan of the floorboards and whisper of the wind through shattered windows seemed to echo with ghostly reminders of the atrocities you had witnessed—and narrowly escaped. This sinister ambiance was compounded by a deeper regret: your inability to rescue the Ghoul, resulting in your needing to be rescued by him once again.

The Ghoul moved with a newfound intensity and focus that left your nerves frayed. Normally cautious, almost paranoid about traveling after dark with you in tow, his demeanour had shifted dramatically. Driven by a sense of urgency, he hurriedly led the way outside. "We can't stay here," he growled under his breath, more to himself than to you, his voice a tense murmur. "It's not safe. The next town isn't far; we can make it if we hurry." His words were laced with determination, pushing both of you forward into the encroaching darkness.

His usual paranoia had transformed into a fierce resolve. The normally measured pace was replaced by swift, almost frantic strides, and you struggled to keep up. Each step was a battle against the pain and exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm you, but the Ghoul's insistence was infectious, propelling you forward despite the fatigue weighing down your limbs.

"We're close," he assured, though it was unclear whether he was speaking to you or trying to convince himself. The path ahead was cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from the dim glow of the moon partially hidden by clouds. The noises of the night—distant howls, rustling amongst the dunes, the occasional whistle of the wind—kept your nerves on edge, but the Ghoul's presence offered a small measure of comfort despite your earlier confrontation.

You remained silent, too afraid to question why he was so determined to leave the house in such a hurry. You had your own reasons to comply—each step a painful reminder as your shirt rubbed against the scratch on your pregnant belly—but his urgency unnerved you. He was usually the epitome of calm under pressure, but now he appeared almost desperate, causing your own anxiety to simmer just below the surface.

You cast a wary glance at the Ghoul, observing the tension etched into his features. His jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes flicked restlessly from side to side, meticulously scanning the surroundings for any potential threats. The silence stretched taut between you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. As you approached the edge of the property line, the urge to speak became overwhelming. Unable to suppress your curiosity and growing unease, you finally broke the silence.

"What's chasing us?" you whispered, the question escaping your lips before you could rein it in. His head snapped towards you, eyes narrowing for a moment before he responded, his voice low and gravelly.

"You don't need to worry about that," he murmured. The edge in his tone cut through the night air, sending a chill down your spine. "Just hurry up," he said louder this time, his voice firm. As the faint outline of the town emerged, he quickened his pace, and you struggled to keep up, your backpack bouncing painfully against your spine with each hurried step.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the icy air searing your lungs as a sudden, sharp pang shot through your abdomen. Clutching your stomach, you recoiled in horror when your hand came away slick with thick, crimson blood. Lifting your shirt, the dim light revealed the alarming state of your wound. What had started as a mere surface scratch had transformed into a grotesque display of infected tissue, marked by unsettling shades of green and purple. Yellowish pus oozed from the lesion, trickling down your trembling thigh, each drop intensifying your dread.

The sight alone was enough to send waves of panic through you, but it was the accompanying symptoms—the feverish chills, the throbbing pain, and the overwhelming weakness—that truly underscored the gravity of your situation. Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the escalating fear gripping your mind as you realized just how dire your circumstances had become.

Dizziness overwhelmed you, a disorienting fog clouding your thoughts as a wave of nausea surged, making your mouth water uncontrollably. The chilling night air felt like icy tendrils wrapping around you, adding to the disorientation. You fought to steady your breathing and quell the nausea, each breath a struggle against the rising panic that threatened to consume you. Your vision blurred, and the ground beneath your feet seemed to sway.

You knew you should tell him about your worsening condition, but you were reluctant to add to his worry. The Ghoul had enough on his mind without your complications, you rationalized, though a niggling part of you wanted to keep it secret just to spite him. Despite his presence and support, the unresolved tension between you lingered, feeding your stubbornness.

"We're almost there," you muttered to yourself, a mantra to keep your legs moving. The Ghoul glanced back at you, his eyes narrowing as he noticed your distress.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You forced a weak smile, nodding slightly. "I'm fine," you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. The effort to appear composed was draining, and the dizziness intensified, making it harder to focus on the path ahead.

The town's lights shimmered in the distance, their soft glow promising relief and safety. Each step felt heavier, your legs trembling with the effort to keep moving. The Ghoul eyed you warily, noting the beads of sweat that dripped from your brow despite the harsh coolness of the evening. His hand reached out suddenly, gripping your arm and stopping you in your tracks. You swayed on unsteady feet, his firm hold the only thing keeping you upright. His eyes, filled with concern, searched your face for an explanation you weren't ready to give.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and demanding.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's nothing," you mumbled, but your body betrayed you, another wave of dizziness making you clutch at his side for support.

"Don't lie to me," he said, his grip tightening. "You're not fine. Tell me what's going on."

Your vision blurred again, dark spots dancing at the edges, and you stumbled, the infection's toll on your body becoming undeniable. Each pulse of pain radiating from the wound sapped your strength, making it increasingly difficult to stay upright. Despite this, a stubborn part of you resisted admitting the severity of your condition, not wanting to appear weak or vulnerable.

The Ghoul tightened his grip on your arm as he shook you gently but firmly, trying to snap you out of your daze. "Tell me. Now." He urged, his voice low but intense. He dipped his head to meet your eyes, which wandered aimlessly, struggling to focus.

"I... I'm not feeling well," you stammered to the Ghoul, your voice quivering as you struggled to focus on him through the growing haze of discomfort. His eyes widened as he pulled your hand away from your stomach, revealing the crimson stain seeping through your wet shirt. He lifted the hem, his teeth clenching at the sight of the grievous wound.

His gloved hands moved with a mixture of desperation and gentleness as he examined the area around the infected wound. He was careful not to press too hard, yet his touch was thorough, probing the extent of the damage. The seriousness of the situation was unmistakable in his expression—the furrowed brow, the tight set of his jaw, and the flicker of panic in his eyes. You could see him mentally calculating the next steps, his mind racing to figure out how best to manage the injury in the desolate surroundings.

The cold air bit at your exposed skin, adding to your discomfort, while the distant lights of the town seemed both tantalizingly close and frustratingly far. The Ghoul's demeanour was a blend of determination and fear as he quickly formulated a plan in his mind.

"Is it bad?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, thin with fear. You weren't sure if you truly wanted to know the answer, and even less sure that he would tell you. His eyes flickered with something unreadable and he hesitated for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal.

He grasped your wrist and began rapidly tapping on the screen of your Pip-Boy, his eyes scanning the information with growing alarm. The glow from the screen illuminated the deep lines around his sunken eyes, and in your hazy state, you thought about how handsome he looked. When he finally looked up, you felt unsteady under his worried gaze.

"We need to go—now," he declared, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. His grip tightened around your forearm, the pressure both reassuring and insistent, as he tried to pull you up. The intensity in his eyes and the firmness of his hold made it clear that there was no time to waste, and your mind struggling to keep pace with the rapid escalation of the situation.

Despite his urgency, your legs betrayed you. They faltered, stumbling and ultimately failing as you collapsed onto the sandy ground with a soft thud. The Ghoul's voice echoed as if from a distance, his words urging you to get up, but your body felt disconnected, heavy, and unresponsive. A visceral wave of panic surged through you, tightening its grip around your chest, making it hard to breathe. The edges of your vision began to blur, darkness creeping in, threatening to engulf your senses like a spreading shadow.

As you lay sprawled on the cold, sandy ground, the Ghoul quickly bent down to your level, his face etched with unease. He searched your eyes, looking for any flicker of awareness, but your responses were slow, your eyelids heavy and fluttering, making his movements appear surreal and drawn out, as if you were both submerged underwater.

Despite the chill that pervaded the air, beads of sweat continued to form on your forehead, streaming down your face as a fever raged within you. In a feeble attempt to find solace, you reached out blindly, seeking the familiar touch of your companion, only to grasp at the empty, chilling air.

Then, a profound dizziness overwhelmed you, like being pulled into a deep, dark chasm. You lost all sense of direction, no longer aware of what was up or down, past or present. The world around you faded to nothingness as you slipped further away, drifting into an inescapable void that swallowed all consciousness.

A faint voice, soft yet persistent, gently coaxed you back from the void's embrace. Wrapped in a dense fog, your mind meandered through scattered memories, teetering on the edge of consciousness. Slowly, sensations began to return as if awakening from a deep slumber; nerves tingled and flickered back to life under your tentative command. The first movement was a mere twitch of a finger, but it felt monumental, the brush of thin cotton against your skin amplifying the moment.

What happened? Where were you? These questions nudged at the corners of your slowly clearing mind. With effort, you drew a deep breath, marshalling the strength to pry your eyes open. They fluttered initially, rebelling against the harshness of light and the strain of waking. Gradually, your vision steadied, focusing upward at a ceiling marred by stains and the passage of time. You lay still for a moment, taking in your surroundings, trying to piece together how you had arrived at this unfamiliar place.

"Thought I'd lost you again," the voice spoke, its timbre resonating with relief and lingering anxiety. You turned your head slowly, your neck stiff and uncooperative, to see the Ghoul sitting in a dusty armchair nestled in the corner of the room. He had one leg crossed over the other, and his hands were clenched into tight fists resting in his lap. His posture betrayed the tension that had not yet left him.

"You seem to have a nasty habit of getting away from me," he added, a faint, wry smile playing at the edges of his lips, softening the sternness that had settled over his features. The combination of relief and reproach in his eyes alluded to the worry he had endured. The dusty armchair creaked slightly as he shifted, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, his gaze never leaving you.

Your lips parted to respond, but the pain and dryness in your throat silenced you, leaving only a strained whisper. The effort made your vision blur momentarily, and you felt a wave of dizziness threaten to pull you back under.

The Ghoul jumped from his seat, closing the distance between you in two swift strides. He grabbed a glass of water from the side table and held it to your lips. His hand gently rested underneath your chin, helping you tilt your head back into the pillow as you swallowed painfully. The cool water soothed your raw throat, each gulp easing the burning sensation and bringing a momentary relief from the discomfort. His gloved touch was surprisingly tender, his eyes filled with concern as he looked down at you.

"Easy now," he murmured, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. The rough exterior he usually presented was momentarily stripped away, revealing a depth of care you hadn't fully realized before. As you finished the water, he set the glass aside, his hand lingering on your chin before carefully adjusting the pillow behind your head, ensuring you were comfortable.

"Thanks," you managed to whisper, your voice still hoarse but filled with gratitude. "Guess you can't get rid of me, can you?" You joked, your voice light despite the underlying exhaustion. 

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Wouldn't want to," he replied, his tone gruff but softened by a note of sincerity. A flutter rose in your stomach at his words, and you felt an ache at the growing distance between you as he returned to his seat. Your fingers flexed against the bedsheet, wanting to reach out to him, but the memory of his words in the house still lingered.

The room seemed colder without his proximity, the silence stretching out once more. You watched him, noting the tension still evident in his posture, the way his hands clenched and unclenched restlessly in his lap. His gaze was fixed on some distant point, lost in thoughts you couldn't decipher.

As your eyes adjusted and began to focus, you took in more of the surroundings. You were in a bedroom, worn and slightly dishevelled. The vanity mirror across from the bed was cracked, its spiderweb fractures distorting the reflections it caught. A large, old wardrobe stood partially open, its doors unable to fully close, with clothes spilling out like colourful waterfalls onto the dusty floor.

The walls were faded, peeling wallpaper hinting at a time long past, while the floorboards creaked softly under any movement. A small nightstand next to the bed held your Pip-Boy and the empty glass. The bed you lay in had a wrought iron frame, rusted and showing signs of age, with a thin, threadbare quilt covering you. A faint scent of dust and age hung in the air, mingling with a lingering hint of antiseptic from recent efforts to clean and treat your injuries.

Despite its state, the room had a certain charm, a sense of having been lived in and cared for, even if that care had become sporadic over the years. The small details—a chipped teacup on the vanity, a child's drawing pinned to the wall—made it feel almost homely.

Your eyes widened in a flash of panic as you turned back to the Ghoul, but he cut you off before you could speak. "We aren't back there," he quickly interjected, his voice firm but reassuring, keen to alleviate your fears even momentarily. "We're safe."

His words settled some of the immediate panic, and you took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself in the present. Of course he hadn't taken you back to Mags' house, he'd wanted to get away from there almost as much as you had. Maybe more.

"Where are we?" you croaked, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Your gaze shifted to the window, where thin curtains let slivers of daylight filter through, casting faint patterns on the floor. The sounds of street vendors calling out their wares and distant bird calls drifted in, mingling with the occasional clatter of footsteps and murmured conversations from passers-by.

He shifted slightly in his seat, the gentle sunlight casting a warm glow on his worn features. "A makeshift clinic, managed by an old friend," he explained, his voice calm but laced with a hint of unease. "It's safe, for now." His eyes flickered towards the window, as if to reassure himself of the safety he promised, before returning to you with a determined expression.

He paused, his face reflecting deep thought as he carefully considered his next words. "You've been unconscious for almost two days," he disclosed, his voice heavy with the weight of the vigilance he had maintained while watching over you. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, the lines on his face more pronounced from the sleepless nights.

"You should have told me," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. "How could you be so reckless to keep this to yourself?" His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away, the weight of his stare drilling into your conscience. The guilt welled up inside you, sharp and consuming, making your chest tighten with regret.

"I didn't want to bother you," you said softly.

He scoffed in response, rolling his eyes. "That's ridiculous," he muttered.

Narrowing your eyes in determination, you pushed yourself up to rest against the pillow, wincing slightly from the effort. The fabric rustled as you settled into a more upright position, your gaze locked onto his, the resolve in your eyes challenging the storm of emotions swirling in his.

"I'm tired of being a burden," you continued, your voice steadier now. The weight of your words hung in the air, the unspoken resentment evident in your tone. The room felt still, the sounds from outside momentarily fading as the intensity of the moment drew both of your focuses inward.

He shook his head, a sneer playing on his lips as he looked at you. "That's not your choice to make," he said, his tone carrying a cold edge. His eyes shifted away from you, staring out the window as if searching for answers in the distance.

The room seemed to grow colder, the sunlight no longer providing its gentle warmth but instead highlighting the tension between you. Each breath you took felt heavier than the last, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on both of you. The air was thick with emotions, and the distance between you felt insurmountable.

A chill ran through you, his words settling like a heavy weight in the space between you. "Seems I don't get much choice over anything nowadays," your voice wavered slightly, but you held his gaze when it snapped back to you, determined to confront him. You could see his jaw tighten, his eyes flickering with a mixture of frustration and something you couldn't quite identify. Each second stretched out painfully as you waited for his response.

"If you've got a death wish, that's between you and that baby," he growled through clenched teeth, pointing at your pregnant belly. "But don't drag me into it. I'm not hauling my ass across the desert just for you to throw your life away at every turn," he spat, his words sharp and biting.

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sunk in. "Glad to see where your priorities truly lie," you said, tears welling in your eyes. Anger surged through you at his insinuation. You didn't have a death wish—far from it. Since the bombings, you had fought tooth and nail to survive and to keep your baby safe, and he knew that.

His words felt like a betrayal. Whether he was trying to push you further away to save face or make it clear that he really did feel nothing for you, his harshness cut deep. The tears spilled over, tracing hot paths down your cheeks. "You know I've done everything to keep us alive," you continued, voice trembling with emotion. "I can't believe you'd think otherwise."

His eyes flickered with a brief moment of regret, but it was quickly masked by the anger that still lingered. "I'm just trying to keep you safe," he muttered, but the words felt hollow against the backdrop of your pain.

"I never wanted this!" you shouted, your voice cracking. "You captured me. I didn't ask for any of this!"

The anger and fear boiled over, and your desperate cries filled the room, making the air between you almost suffocating. The walls seemed to echo your words, amplifying the magnitude of the moment. His expression remained hard, but you could see a flicker of something cross them.

"You think I wanted this?" he shot back, his voice rising. "None of this was supposed to happen!"

"You should have just left me out there!" You cried, voice breaking under the weight of your anguish.

"I wish I did!" The raw emotion in his voice startling you as he stood up, his figure towering over you. The intensity of his words cut through your anger, slicing deep into your heart and leaving you both teetering on the brink of something irreversible. His face was flushed with a mixture of regret and pure fury, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes was a stark contrast to the harshness of his words.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words and unresolved pain. Each of you grappled with the complex web of emotions that bound you together, the weight of your shared past and uncertain future pressing down heavily.

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your gaze dropping to the intricately patterned bedsheets. The delicate floral design blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. "Get out," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the sharp flinch of his jaw from the corner of your eye told you that he had heard you clearly.

The words felt like lead on your tongue, heavy and final, as you struggled to maintain your composure. The room, once a refuge, now felt like a battleground. You could sense his presence still looming over you, his conflicting emotions almost tangible in the air between you. The moment stretched, every second amplifying the tension.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought back to the memories you'd shared together. Each recollection felt like a dagger to the heart—the lingering gazes, the fleeting moments when you sought solace in his arms, the fragile bond you believed was forming between you. Perhaps it had all been a figment of your imagination, a desperate illusion in the midst of chaos.

The realization struck you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and reeling. The weight of it pressed down on you, squeezing the air from your lungs and making your chest ache. You remembered the way his eyes would soften, the rare, fleeting smiles that had given you hope, the comforting warmth of his embrace. But now, those memories felt like cruel jokes, mocking your naïve belief in a connection that perhaps never truly existed.

The Ghoul sighed, running his tongue over his teeth as his gaze briefly flickered to the ground before locking back onto you. "What are you gonna do?" he asked, his tone softer but still edged with irritation. "Don't be so foolish; you wouldn't last a second out there alone."

"Maybe not, but that's no concern of yours," you retorted, refusing to meet his gaze. "If you don't want us, then we don't want you either." You placed a firm hand on the swell of your belly, feeling the life growing inside you.

A small flurry of movement, a determined kick from within, gave you a momentary pause. The sensation was both a reminder and a source of strength. You sniffed, drawing in a shaky breath, and willed your voice to work as you finally looked up at him through bleary eyes, the tears making everything a blur. "Leave," you commanded, your voice trembling but resolute.

He sighed again and moved toward you with an outstretched hand, but you stopped him mid-step. "Go! Get out!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls.

The Ghoul looked at you exasperatedly. "There's nothing for you here with me, do you understand? Dispel any romantic notions you have about me, darlin'. I am not a good man," he said, his eyes pleading with you. "But it doesn't mean I want you in harms way—far from it. Just listen to me, dammit."

His words cut through the air like a knife, sharp and final. "I said get out!" You shouted again, your hand gripped the Pip-Boy on the nightstand, and with a surge of adrenaline, you hurled it towards him. He ducked just in time, the metal device shattering against the wall behind him. Shards of glass and metal scattered across the floor, the sharp sound punctuating the tension in the room.

He straightened up, his eyes wide with shock. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your heavy breathing. You sat there, chest heaving, eyes blazing with a mix of fury and desperation. The broken pieces of the Pip-Boy lay on the floor, a stark reminder of the irreparable rift between you.

"Just leave," you said, your voice now a raw whisper. "We don't need you." The determination in your eyes left no room for argument. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, before turning and walking out of the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the stillness.

A few hours later, a knock on the door startled you from your sobs. The door creaked open, and an elderly man entered. His features bore the unmistakable signs of ghoulification: mottled, decaying skin and sunken eyes. Despite his unsettling appearance, his expression was warm and kind, a gentle smile softening the harsh lines of his face.

You eyed him warily as he stepped into the room, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he was conscious of not alarming you further. The contrast between his ghastly visage and the kindness in his eyes created a strange, almost disorienting juxtaposition, leaving you uncertain but cautiously hopeful.

"Good to see you awake," he greeted with a gentle smile, his voice carrying a soothing, raspy tone. He moved toward your bedside with a practiced ease that spoke of long experience and familiarity with such situations. His steps were steady and confident, his presence oddly comforting in the wake of the Ghoul's absence. 

He stopped next to you, his eyes briefly scanning the room before focusing on the IV bag connected to your arm. With expert hands, he adjusted the flow, his touch slow and precise. "Your friend said you were feeling better," he remarked, glancing back at you with a reassuring nod. "Looks like the RadAway is working," he commented, his tone imbued with calm confidence. 

The mention of 'your friend' had your eyes darting to the door, replaying the memory of him walking out of it hours before. A sudden dread gripped you as the realization struck: perhaps it really would be the last time you saw him. Why wouldn't it be? You'd told him to leave, said you didn't want him, which was only partially true.

The truth was more complicated. You wanted him. You undeniably craved his affection and needed his approval, but your stubbornness—almost a mirror of his own—kept you from admitting it. He had made it clear that he didn't want you, or at least that's what his words said. Yet, his actions often told a different story, leaving you confused and frustrated.

You weren't going to beg. Pride and self-respect wouldn't allow it, no matter how much your heart ached for him to come back. The conflicting emotions swirled within you, a storm of longing, pride, and hurt. You drew a shaky breath, pushing the thoughts aside as you refocused on the present, determined not to let your vulnerability show.

"Dry your eyes, pet," the doctor said softly, offering you a handkerchief from his pocket. You took it with a grateful smile, dabbed at your wet cheeks until you felt the tears ebb.

"Thank you," you whispered, watching as the yellow liquid filled the tube attached to your arm. "What is RadAway?" you queried, your eyes narrowing slightly with caution as the elderly ghoul continued his examination, his fingers pressing against your wrist to check your pulse.

"It's a medical treatment used to flush radiation from the body," he explained, his voice steady and informative. "It speeds up recovery, especially with injuries like yours." He paused, then gave you a concerned look. "It's essential out here. I'm surprised you don't know about it."

His eyes held a hint of curiosity, perhaps even worry, as he studied your reaction. The weight of his gaze made you acutely aware of your vulnerability and the gaps in your survival skills, but his tone remained kind, without a trace of judgment.

You sniffed and feigned a smile. "I'm still getting my bearings on the surface," you said, your voice small.

His eyes flickered with an unspoken understanding, a subtle nod acknowledging the enormity of adjusting to life above ground. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a sympathetic smile, and he placed a reassuring hand on your arm.

"That makes sense," he replied softly, his voice full of understanding. "It's a lot to take in, but you're lucky your friend got you here when he did. He almost woke the whole town with his hollering. I was in the middle of a quiet evening when the commotion started. I looked out the window and saw him rushing through the streets, carrying you in his arms. Poor feller, the colour drained straight from his face with all the worry—well, as much as it can drain from us irradiated folk."

He paused, shaking his head slightly with a wry smile. "He was frantic, you know, practically bursting through the door, demanding help. I've seen people in desperate situations before, but the way he looked at you... It was clear you mean a lot to him."

The doctor's words painted a vivid picture, but you shook your head, dispelling the hopeful image he conjured. The Ghoul's actions came about as a result of you flaking out on him during his urgency to get away from that house. Despite wanting to believe otherwise, you reminded yourself that you didn't mean anything to him.

"He was just trying to get away," you murmured, more to yourself than to the doctor. "I collapsed, and he didn't have a choice."

The doctor studied you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe," he conceded gently, "but actions speak louder than words. Sometimes, people show they care in ways they can't admit to themselves."

You didn't respond, letting his words linger in the air as he pulled a rusted stethoscope from his coat, preparing to listen to your heart. The cold metal pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of your conflicting thoughts.

As the doctor listened intently, you couldn't help but replay the moments of the Ghoul's protectiveness in your mind. The anguish on his face when he found you at the house, the curl of his finger beckoning you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you as you lost yourself in his touch. Had you really imagined those moments? The ones before those? They felt as real as the beat of your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of them.

The tenderness in his eyes, the security of his embrace—it all seemed too genuine to be mere figments of your imagination. Yet, his harsh words and actions contradicted those fleeting instances of connection, leaving you in a state of confusion and doubt.

But sometimes, kind words did slip through. You remembered what he had said hours ago, before the shouting: you had told him that he couldn't get rid of you, and his response had been a soft admission, almost lost in the tension of the moment. "Wouldn't want to," he'd said.

You were so hurt by his past rejection, by his constant pushing you away rather than addressing any feelings he may harbour, that you didn't stop to consider, in the heat of the moment, that perhaps you were doing the exact same thing when you told him to leave.

The doctor finished his examination and removed the stethoscope, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Your heart sounds strong," he said, his tone reassuring. "Physically, you're doing better. But don't ignore what's happening inside here," he added, gently tapping his temple.

You nodded absently, his advice barely registering as you continued to grapple with your emotions. The lines between reality and wishful thinking blurred, and you found yourself longing for clarity in the midst of the turmoil.

"Would you like me to check?" he asked, gesturing to your stomach that you still hugged protectively. You blinked, slow to understand until he mouthed 'the baby.' He was a genuine doctor, or as close to one as you could find in the wastelands. The individuals who had held you captive in the vault were more torturers disguised as scientists than actual healers. However, the risk of revealing your pregnancy was not lost on you, especially after recent events.

His hands stilled as he met your gaze with an understanding that seemed to stretch beyond the typical patient-doctor exchange. It was evident he had a wealth of experience dealing with the unique challenges of the wasteland, a far cry from the so-called doctors of your past who had hidden cruelty behind their clinical masks.

"Yes please," you replied, your voice tinged with apprehension. You hesitated, weighing the risk of revealing too much against the need to know your child's fate. "Is my baby okay? Can you tell me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet laden with the weight of your worries and hopes.

The elderly ghoul's expression softened further, and he nodded slowly, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. "Let's take a look," he said gently, reaching for a small, somewhat battered handheld device from his bag. He moved the device slowly over your abdomen, his eyes focused intently on the faint screen.

After a moment, he looked up, a small smile breaking through his weathered features. "From what I can see, your baby seems to be doing just fine," he announced softly. "The heartbeat is strong and steady. You're both fighters, that's clear."

Relief washed over you upon hearing the doctor's reassuring words, easing some of the persistent tension that had gripped you since you regained consciousness. Your eyes instinctively sought the Ghoul's, and your heart dropped at the sight of the empty chair.

"A few more days of rest and you should be back on your feet," the doctor said, gently covering your stomach with the thin sheet. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small bottle of pills. "Take one a day with food, and if you come into contact with any large bouts of radiation, double the dose until you can get some RadAway," he instructed, handing you the bottle.

The torn label read Rad-X, and you turned it in your hand, trying to decipher the rest of the words. The doctor watched you with a patient expression, his gaunt features softening as he spoke. "Rad-X is used to increase your resistance to radiation," he explained, his voice steady. "It’s different from RadAway, but just as important, especially with your...relations," he finished, and your cheeks burned at his insinuation.

You thanked the doctor when he promised to check on you again soon before leaving the room. As the door closed behind him, you sighed and settled back into your pillow. Relief washed over you knowing your baby was healthy, but the sense of being on your own left your heart heavy. The room felt both too big and too small, the deafening silence pressing in on you as you stared at the Rad-X label, contemplating the uncertain future that lay ahead.

You didn't see the Ghoul after that, but a supply of RadAway and bullets appeared on your bedside table. The sight of the neatly arranged supplies made you pause, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over you. You assumed it was his doing, imagining him sneaking in during the night amidst the few hours you'd managed to sleep. The thought of him moving silently through the darkened room, leaving behind the essentials you needed, brought a bittersweet pang to your heart.

A woman named Ada, who you had come to learn was the owner of the establishment, dropped in regularly to bring you warm meals. They were hearty and nourishing, intended to build your strength, but your appetite was often suppressed by the weight of your thoughts and the loneliness that settled in your heart. Ada's gentle encouragement and understanding smile were small comforts in the otherwise stark and quiet room.

She chatted with you during her visits, sharing stories about the settlement and its inhabitants, giving you a glimpse of the life that awaited you once you were well enough to leave the confines of your room, if you were to stay in town. Her tales painted a picture of a tight-knit community, resilient and resourceful, each person playing a vital role in their collective survival.

"The Ghoul, he's gone," she informed you on morning, her voice gentle but firm. "I do hope you'll consider staying. He's covered your keep for more than enough time." She rested her hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's not safe out there alone."

Her words hit you like a wave, the reality of his absence sinking in. The weight of his generosity and care pressed heavily on your heart. Her eyes were filled with concern, reflecting the danger that awaited beyond the safety of this town, and her kindness was a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil, a reminder that you still had allies even in his absence.

"Thank you, Ada," you said, offering her a smile despite the worry inside of you. "But I have to go."

The morning sun cast a gentle glow on her face, highlighting the kindness in her eyes. She nodded, her own smile reflecting a mixture of pride and concern. "Where will you go?"

You eyed the map in your hands, the one you had taken from the Ghoul the day you left to find the vials. Your eyes traced the path that led to the haven, a route marked with careful notations and warnings. The map had become a lifeline, a tangible connection to him and his meticulous planning.

During the last few days of your bedrest, you had spent hours poring over it, mapping out your journey, and planning stops for resting and loading up on supplies. The intricate details on the map showed the effort he had put into ensuring your safety on your journey to the haven, each mark a testament to his care.

It wasn't until that morning, as you packed your bag and ran your hand over the tattered paper, that your resolve solidified. The realization that he had crafted this map specifically for you, considering every possible danger and refuge along the way, filled you with a bittersweet determination.

"I'm going to find him," you told her, your eyes steely with persistence as you adjusted your backpack over your shoulder. "There are some things I left unsaid," you finished, your voice resolute. 

You hugged her goodbye and thanked the doctor for his car on your way out. When you left the clinic, your gun felt heavier on your hip, the burden of not having the Ghoul there for your protection weighing it down.

Navigating through the bustling streets, you kept a firm grip on the map, each step taking you further from the comfort of Ada and the doctor's care and deeper into the unknown. Vendors continued to call out, their voices blending into a distant hum as you made your way toward the town's edge.

As you reached the outskirts of the town, the lively sounds of the marketplace faded behind you, replaced by the vast silence of the open desert. You paused for a moment, breathing deeply, taking in the endless expanse of sand and scrub stretching out before you. The horizon shimmered with heat, the sun high and relentless in the sky.

You questioned whether you were making the right choice in attempting to find the Ghoul. The vast, treacherous wasteland stretched out in every direction, offering countless places for him to disappear. He could have gone anywhere, but deep down, you felt certain that he wouldn't retrace his steps. He would likely stay as far away from Mags' home as possible, avoiding any place with too many memories or potential danger.

Then, the hairs on your arm stood to attention at the familiar sound of spurs jingling on the ground behind you. The distinct, rhythmic clinking sent a surge of recognition through you, and a hopeful smile began to tug at your lips. However, before you could turn around, the cold, unyielding metal of a gun barrel pressed firmly against your temple, sending a chill down your spine and freezing you in place.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart pounded in your chest, the sudden shift from hope to fear almost too much to process. The coolness of the barrel contrasted starkly with the warmth of the sun on your skin.

"I'll ask you this just once," a rough voice growled from behind, the command filled with menace. "Where is Cooper Howard?"

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @lothiriel9 @ancientbeing10 @maeplaysbass @moon-trash1507 @rebelmarylou @giggle-shade @skrzydlak

(if you have been removed from the taglist it is because your blog does not show an age)

[arcaneacolyte]

May I Present: The Ghouls as Quirks My or My Close friends' Animals Have Exhibited:

**Alpha**: Favorite game is "oh look how sneaky I am, stealing the thing you're doing/playing with so I can play with it" but gets SO mad when it's done to him.

**Omega**: Can't help but make the "stinky" big cat face when he smells something he doesn't like. He can't hide it if he tried.

**Mist**: If she touches a texture she wasn't expecting, she basically jumps out of her skin and onto the nearest elevated surface.

**Zephyr**: Despite having good night vision, has *terrible* lowlight vision, so if they see something at dusk that's unfamiliar? Instant hackles up and growling. Turns out it's just a garbage bag.

**Ifrit**: Upon first meeting someone, is all guard dog and grumpy and "Don't touch me", but once you scritch around his horns and ears, he loves you forever and will trail after you wanting more pets, tail wagging.

**Aether**: Very friendly, but if someone he knows puts on a hat or changes their silhouette in any way? Stranger Danger, who the fuck are you?!

**Dewdrop**: Must be in an hot bed, in an hot house, in an hot climate. Will steal any coals he finds to either eat or rub his face against.

**Mountain**: If he hasn't worn shoes in a while (which is usually any time outside of touring) and he has to put some on, he waggles and high steps weird for a while because he can't feel the ground.

**Rain**: Thunder and lightening or fireworks? No problem, unbothered and can sleep like the dead. Balloons in any form? Pure Evil and must be destroyed.

**Swiss**: Literally an escape artist, cannot be contained if you tried. They put a camera in a containment room to try to see how he escapes and they still can't even figure it out.

**Phantom/Aeon**: No eye self preservation. Doesn't close his eyes when water gets poured on him, will not shut them when you threaten to poke them. It's so bad that he's had multiple eye tests to see if he has poor vision, but his vision is perfect.

**Cirrus**: Got one of her nails cut down too close to the quick ONE time and now refuses to get her nails trimmed and will run or fuss if its determined she needs a trim. Has to be asleep or put under sedatives to get them done.

**Cumulus**: Is completely fine with getting a bath or shower, but hates going out in the rain. Also, to her, water is water no matter how gross it is and she WILL try to drink it if she's thirsty enough.

**Sunshine**: Will get excited and get all up in other peoples' faces, then suddenly panic and get upset that their face is too close to hers. She might snap at them because of it.

**Aurora**: Has very sensitive ears and gets very upset at loud noises, but has a hard time self regulating and the only thing that will help is the Ghoul version of a happy hoodie. Unfortunately she doesn't think she can move her neck while she's wearing it, so she turns her head like 1989 Batman.

[forlorn-crows]

𝑺𝒐𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Rain/Dew, Swiss/Aurora Words: 2625 Tags: voyeurism, exposition, humiliation kink, vaginal fingering, anal sex, transmasc Rain, transfemme Aurora, cum eating, squirting, thigh fucking, oral sex, choking, vaginal penetration.

Summary: The multi ghoul’s next moan is sinful; it’s a zing of hot arousal right to his cunt, and Rain barely has time to sink down to his knees before a warm body presses against his back, the culprit wrapping an arm around his waist and slapping a hand over his mouth. 

Note: transfemme!Aurora (cock/dick used for her anatomy); transmasc!Rain (cock/dick/clit/cunt/folds used for his anatomy). beta'd by @miasmaghoul.

happy belated birthday, @st-danger!

Read it on AO3, or below the cut:

He’s had his hand down his pants the minute he heard them kissing.

The scene that plays out before him is too electric, too good to resist. It’s late, but curiosity got the best of him. He had to get up. He had to look. And he can’t stop now, fully slick and throbbing between his fingers as he is. 

“Swiss . . . aah . . .fuck, baby . . .” Aurora’s voice carries across the hall as Swiss takes her from behind. Big hands wrapping tight around her hips and slamming her ass back on every thrust. 

Propped up on the outside of his own doorway, he can see straight through the crack into Swiss’ room. Instead of fucking on the bed, he’s got her bent over the desk perpendicular to the window—no doubt they’re hitting against the shared wall to Aeon’s room. Rain rubs himself a little faster at the thought of him also getting off to it, sleep pants pushed under his balls as he thrusts into his own fists. Maybe he’s hoping they don’t hear him. He bites back a moan at the mental image. 

“ . . . good for me . . .fuckin’ look at you . . . pretty taking my cock . . . '' Swiss' voice has that irresistible raspy tone to it and a lilt that never fails to make Rain’s knees wobble. He can hear how fast she’s pulling at her little cock, how fast Swiss pounds into her. Skin slapping harshly against skin. Through the tiny crack in the door, Rain can see the skirt of her lingerie hiked high on her hips, his sliver of view going from baby pink to ashen skin and back again.  

“Right there, fuck me, baby . . .” Aurora’s whines, high-pitched and giggly. Every night she’s with Swiss is a treat, and every sweet noise that he wrings out of her is a kick to Rain’s gut. A series of staccato ah-ah-ah’s punched from her throat each time Swiss’ hips meet her ass, decadent and reedy and as perfect as a porn star. 

The multi ghoul’s next moan is sinful; it’s a zing of hot arousal right to his cunt, and Rain barely has time to sink down to his knees before a warm body presses against his back, the culprit wrapping an arm around his waist and slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Mmpf—” Rain staggers, hand faltering over his dick.

“What do we have here, starfish?” Dew purrs quietly into his ear. “Playin’ naughty voyeur tonight?” 

Rain tries to say something, play the game of defending himself, but it’s no use behind Dew’s firm hand. 

The fire ghoul laughs quietly. He peeks over Rain’s shoulder to see what he sees. “Jealous you’re not his princess tonight?”

Rain’s reminded of their positions onstage, the way Dew will hiss diabolical things into his ear with his hand around his neck, just to get him slick in his compression shorts. Far too often has he imagined him going further: unzipping his stage pants and slicing through his underlayers to expose him behind the body of his bass. Canting his hips against his ass so his clit would rub against the lacquered surface. He’d plea for him to stop, yet simultaneously lean into Dew’s fingers if they traveled down. It would be a lie to insist he wouldn’t love the rush of shame from being shown off—exposed—to thousands of people. 

The prospect of only two people seeing him is arousing enough.

He wriggles in Dew’s grasp now, barely containing a whimper and shaking his head in a poor excuse for a protest. 

“Get off on this, don’t you? Bet you’re dripping for it.” Rain shakes his head again, even though the wetness around his fingers agrees with him. Dew sucks his teeth and dips the arm around his middle lower down. “You sure about that?” Testing. Teasing. 

Dew meets his fingers between his folds, and Rain has to fight his eyes from rolling back at the touch of his hot fingers. 

“Hu–uh,” he mumbles behind his hand. 

“Shhhh. Wouldn’t want them to hear us, would you?” Dew’s breath makes his ear twitch. His little cock twitches too, right under Dew’s palm. His body always gives everything away. 

The fire ghoul huffs a laugh. “You’d love to get caught,” he whispers. His fingers start to move, dipping down to his entrance and back up again—slow, steady strokes that make Rain sigh heavily through his nose. “What would Swiss say if he caught you spying on him? Do you think he’d punish you? Make you watch him fuck Rora ‘til she screams?” 

As if on cue, Aurora cries out behind the door: “Faster—fuck, faster, baby . . .” The desk knocks louder against the wall, picking up speed. Rain digs his nails into Dew’s arm and groans. Not-so-silently begging him to go faster, too. His other hand hovers dumbly over his dick, fingers brushing against the back of Dew’s hand each time it comes up to stroke him. 

“Can feel how much you want it,” Dew breathes over his gills, causing a hard shudder to run all the way down to the tips of his toes. “Yeah? Tell me how bad.”

The fire ghoul removes his hand from his mouth, and Rain’s neck cranes back stiffly with how much effort it takes to stay quiet. Tendons ramrod straight and straining. Dew only lets him catch his breath for a few seconds before his hand drops down to his chest, kneading at one of his tits through his thin t-shirt. Making him breath a shaky sigh. Working it until the nipple pebbles and goosebumps run down his biceps. Rain gets lost in it—lost in the slide of Dew’s slick fingers over his dick and the heat over each of his tits. Lost in how Dew huffs against the webbing of his ear and presses himself to Rain’s back. Despite his smaller stature, he’s engulfed by his heat; so much so that his brain goes fuzzy and he nearly forgets where he is. A moan hovers behind his teeth, and he’s about to let it slip from his lips—like the saliva starting to escape from the corner of his mouth—when the sound of Swiss’ palm smacking Aurora’s ass pulls him from his stupor.  

Dew’s question dissolves from Rain’s mind, evaporating into the ether with the last of his self-control. 

His body language was certainly enough of an answer, but still Dew tuts. “Useless.”

“Gorgeous,” Swiss purrs instead. “That’s it, show it off for me . . .” He watches him grab the band of Aurora’s bra and push her chest down to the top of the desk, forcing her back into a sharp arch. Little tummy covered by the front of her skirt. Her hole is tight around his cock, cheeks red and raw where he spanked them. And behind her, Swiss is so big. Easily twice her width and making sure she knows it.

“Could look at that all day, couldn’t you?” Dew teases. “Wish it were you bent over that desk instead, so I could watch Swiss shove that big cock into this tight little hole.” 

“F-fuck,” Rain gasps. 

Dew hums, barely above a whisper. Takes the hand on his tit and slides it down his spine, dipping past the waistband of his boxers and slipping his fingers between his cheeks. He can’t help but clench at nothing as his fingers go down, down, down. Rain has to grip the doorframe when he finally presses against his hole, mouth dropping open in a silent cry. He’s wet there, too; he can’t help it. Dew knows more than anyone how fast he can soak through a garment, how slick he can keep anything he lets inside. Rain feels a gush of it dribble past both sets of digits, scenting the air around them with saltiness and desperation. 

“Fuck, could take you just like this,” the fire ghoul breathes. He may grind against the back of his own hand, but Rain can feel that he’s hard just by the heat that seeps through to his skin. “Turn you into the show.” 

It’s the first thing Dew says that gets a real sound out of him—high and quiet in the back of his throat, but a moan nonetheless. A victory for the fire ghoul, a surrender for himself.

It’s been a while since Dew’s had him like this: wet, whimpering, knees jelly-like at every word he utters. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t like him pressed up against his back, touching him in all the right ways to get him to out himself to his unknowing audience. It’s the best part of watching for Rain anyway—the risk. The feeling that secretly, maybe the ones that he watches know he’s watching. Think he’s pathetic or pervy for looking when he’s not supposed to. Those nerves, that chance he’ll get a sick curl of embarrassment from being caught, are what gets him off. 

Now is no different; he thinks he catches Swiss’ eyes as he tosses his head back, and his stomach swoops. Shame and anxiety shoot straight to his cock, and his hips stutter against Dew’s hand. Knowing every movement brings him closer to echoing his pleasure down the hallway. 

And fuck, he wants it bad.

“Dew.” The water ghoul turns his head and breathes his name into his temple. Pleading. Dew tucks his face into the crook of his neck, proud nose pressed to the delicate gill fins. He hums into them so the vibrations go right down to his dick, then flicks across the head of it just to be a bastard. 

Across the hall, Swiss groans that he’s cumming. Fuck, Rora, take it, can’t stop. He buries himself in her body, grunting as he spasms through his release. 

“. . . baby, fill me up, yes!”

Dew circles his rim with the pad of his finger, simultaneously taking his cock in a loose grip between his fingers and jerking him in earnest. “Gonna spill too?” 

Rain bites back a curse. Bucks into his fingers. “Take—fff–fuck, take it out.” He can feel the smirk against his shoulder as Dew shakes his head. 

“What, this?” Dew takes his hand out of Rain’s boxers and replaces the pressure with the clothed ridge of his dick. Placing his palm over the water ghoul’s stomach and sandwiching their hips together. He grinds, and Rain can feel every inch of it. The arm around him keeps him from hitting the floor when his knees buckle.

“Want it,” he pleads dumbly. “Make—make me—”

Dew interrupts by shoving his and Rain’s shorts down, freeing his cock and promptly sticking it between his thighs. There’s hardly any friction as he does so, his slender length snuggling perfectly below the water ghoul’s own sex. Hot and hard against his cool and wet. When he looks down, he can just see the rosy head of it poking through his folds. Foreskin pulled back and a mix of pre and slick snuggled in the slit. 

Rain has to cover his own mouth then, whining through his nose as he watches Swiss pull out, drop to his knees, and lick his own load out of Aurora’s ass. His clever tongue wastes nothing of his own spend, and the little ghoulette twitches in delight. The shudder that runs through Rain nearly shakes them both, and his cunt clenches hard above Dew’s cock. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, grinding a little. “Cum over it. Want you to soak it before I fuck you.” 

Through the crack in the door, Rain watches Swiss smack Aurora’s ass and usher her to sit on the desk facing him. She’s so pretty in that two piece set. Now that she’s turned around, Rain can see the heart-shaped jewelry running through her nipples poking through the thin lace. Maybe they have jewels on them, too; Rain can’t tell, but they’re nice to look at. She daintily lifts the front of her skirt so the multi ghoul can dive in and swallow her down. Gripping her thighs and hollowing out his cheeks the way she likes. 

“Fuck, yes, baby,” she moans. Her perfectly manicured hand grasps the back of his head, shoving him down even further as she crosses her legs behind his neck. “Suck this pretty cock.” Swiss hums around her, and she tosses her head back in pleasure.

And then. Aurora lifts her head back up. Lidded eyes fixed somewhere over Swiss’ shoulder. Her mouth drops open in a gasp, and then, perfectly through the crack in the door, her and Rain’s eyes meet for one heated, devastating moment. 

Her flushed face instantly lights up. She giggles and bites her lip, tucking the hem of her skirt into its waistband so he can see Swiss’ lips nestle into the neatly-trimmed hair at the base of her cock. 

Aurora winks.

Rain’s cumming before he has time to process it, biting his palm so hard he nearly draws blood from his fangs. Their gaze breaks when his eyes roll back, thighs squeezing around Dew’s cock as he curls in on himself, bucking against his fingers and grinding his ass back against the fire ghoul’s hips. 

“Fuckin’ hells, squeeze it—” the fire ghoul hisses. His hand comes up to his throat, squeezing hard on the arteries. “Come on, soak it—soak my cock.” As if he could stop the gush of slick and fluid that the contractions of his orgasm squeeze out, pouring over Dew’s shaft and soaking into his boxers. There’s enough of it that it runs down the backs of his thighs, heedless to his mental pleas for it to stay contained to his underwear. They’ll smell him now, no doubt. Dew thrusts through it messily. Sounds of Rain’s release and his garbled chokes overly loud and lewd in the silence of the hall. 

Aurora is quick to follow his crest of pleasure, thrusting her little hips against Swiss’ face as she moans so sweetly. The multi ghoul groans deeply as she shoots down his throat. Tiny toes curling into his locs and those sparkly nails digging into the edge of the desk. 

Dew yanks his hand away, and Rain sucks in air like he nearly just drowned.

“Bend over,” Dew pants. He tugs Rain’s hips backwards through the doorway, and the water ghoul has to grab both the door handle and its frame to keep from hitting the floor. “Yeah, like that, lean back—” Dew hinges him at the hips—shoulders in the middle of the doorway and ass into the bedroom—and makes him sink down low enough until his cunt is at a perfect height to stick it in. His legs will start to shake in no time, but Dew’s in charge. So Rain stays standing. 

The fire ghoul steps on the waistband of his boxers to bring them to the floor and expose his drenched cunt, rumbling appreciatively at the way his slick has left wet tracks down his legs. 

“Fuck, you made a mess,” he breathes, tapping his dick against Rain’s hole. “Bet they can smell you all the way over there. How long before they catch this fucked out little princess?” He doesn’t know one of them already has, but Dew slides his dick inside his wet heat before Rain can even think to answer. Hot hands gripping tight on his hips and pelvis slapping wetly against his twitching cheeks. He gives no mercy, thrusting into him hard and fast the first time he bottoms out. 

Rain hangs his head below his shoulders and takes it. He lets a full-body groan tumble from his lips, face growing hot as he’s powerless to resist exposing himself to the others. As if he could even try to hold anything back now. Dew laughs and fucks him, intending to make sure everyone hears his pathetic, embarrassed cries. 

Across the hall, Swiss chuckles.

[phantology]

pet names

— the pet name that the ghouls call you most often. [swiss, dewdrop, phantom, rain, aether, mountain]

a/n: this is my first time writing for ghost, so apologies for the short length. just wanted to get a feel for it before i started writing longer things :)

DEWDROP ━━━

you could hear the half-walk, half-run of your favorite ghoul before you heard his voice. his gate told you he was happy about something, whatever it was.

your theory was confirmed a few beats later as he walked into the room, guitar in tow.

“i take it practice went well?” you smiled.

“tiring, but it went well.” dewdrop set his guitar down, then made a beeline for you. “although, you know that i missed you, doll.”

PHANTOM ━━━

the word that slips off of phantom’s tongue is… foreign, to say the least. it almost felt heavy. he seemingly said it without realizing it, tagging it on to the end of his sentence as though it was your name. whatever he had said to you doesn’t even register.

“what did you say?” you finally ask.

“i asked what you were up to?” he responds, sounding a little confused.

“no, what did you call me?”

he seems to think about it. after a few brief moments, he finally looks back up at you. “i called you… i guess a translation would be something like ‘my darling?’”

AETHER ━━━

“good morning, darling.” aether’s voice was starkly chipper to how you felt. it was a little too early in the morning for you taste, but sleep evaded you.

despite the tiredness still clouding your mind, you smiled at the ghoul. you plopped yourself down beside him and laid against him, allowing him to maneuver the both of you so that his arm fell across your shoulders. as he began to rub small circles into your skin, sleep finally found you.

RAIN ━━━

it was quiet. not that you minded it, just that most days spent around the ghouls were the very opposite of quiet.

“hey, sweetheart?” the familiar, calming voice of rain caught your attention. you looked from the reading you were engrossed in to the ghoul who offered you a small smile.

“hey,” you responded. “where is everyone else?”

he shrugged absently. “out. doing something or the other. i figured we could do something? stay in, if you want, or we could go find something to do. whatever you wanted.”

SWISS ━━━

“baby..” swiss dragged out the name, purposefully making his voice whiny to get your attention.

you looked up at him. you didn’t say anything, but the look on your face communicated what you meant. in all honesty, you’d forgotten what you were feigning being upset about, but swiss’ attempts at earning your forgiveness were becoming comical.

MOUNTAIN ━━━

the mug made a clink noise as mountain set it on the desk. inside of it was coffee, made just the way that you always liked. mountain had a weird way of remembering little things like that: the way you made your coffee, the way you wrote certain letters, the way you organized. it was odd to you sometimes, but other times it was useful.

“hopefully the coffee helps.” mountain started. he paused for a moment before continuing. “but… you need sleep, my love. you’re sure there’s nothing i can do to help you finish your work?”

[unpleasant-ghoul]

Guess what, fuckers?

Sleep is for the weak, TROLLS are for the strong, and I am NOT fucking weak today.

So here I am again. With the same troll, Marhhaiji the Witch doctor. Now with colors. And a magpie that's actually a magpie and not a blob. And longer arms. And some bullshit attempt at shadows and lights, I just sorta slap them wherever, no desire to learn the proper ways. (also, those feathers? Not an honoring/imitating a Loa thing. "Killed some elf AND their hawkstrider at some point, still proud enough of it now to keep showing it off" thing)

[p1nkcanoe]

thinking about swiss getting in trouble for all the times he didn’t play his guitar on tour, all the times he didn’t stay on his platform like he should’ve, all of the times he went off and distracted his packmates during songs simply because he couldn’t control himself, and in turn being ordered to go to the practice room one afternoon and play. just play. prove he can work like the loyal ghoul he was summoned to be. so he does. and he's not happy about it, but he does.

but I’m also thinking about the others catching wind of his punishment and perhaps making it their mission to let him know just how distracting he can be.

swiss is trying so hard to practice. he wants to finish the set and go back to the den, pester cirrus while she reads or go search out whatever odd task mountain is busied with, but no matter how far he gets into a song he can’t help but notice his packmates in the corner of his eye as they sneak into the practice room with him. they come one by one and leave before the next enters, playing coy as they pretend to poke at their own instruments or adjust a sparkling tab. the first one catches him off guard—he’s about to be through the bridge in rats when long fingers wrap around his tummy from behind. they poke and prod at the soft flesh below his shirt, grabbing and kneading it in their palms before dragging upwards to grope at his chest, and he's about to stop playing when rain hooks his chin over the top of his shoulder and tells him to "keep going." then only a minute or two later he's finished with the song and rain is slinking out of the practice room before he can ask him what he could have wanted with him.

then he's cruising through absolution when aurora enters with cumulus trailing behind her. they come bounding in a pair to the front of the room, twirling and dancing with their fingers intertwined as swiss plays, and he can't help but smile as cumulus hooks an arm around her waist and dips her nearly to the floorboards, pulls her back up onto her feet and twirls her in a circle. aurora lets go of her hand. only to drop to her knees in front of the busy multi ghoul and wrap her tiny hands firmly around the backs of his thighs. he startles when she grabs his ass but doesn't stop playing. never misses a beat (or at least any that they notice). cumulus dances and twirls around the pair of them, acting oblivious to aurora as she puts on a show of humping the air and pulling at his thighs in manners that are comically obscene. swiss wants to laugh, he really does, but he also really needs to get through with the set first... before his papa comes back to check on his progress... again.

the girls dance and laugh. cumulus shimmies against his right shoulder and aurora pulls on his leg so insistently that swiss contemplates knocking her in the forehead with the body of his guitar. but then just like rain had, the two of them are gone by the time he finishes the last note of the song- the door shut behind them.

more ghouls pay him visits as he progresses. mountain shows up during year zero just to obnoxiously pluck at the strings of his instrument, phantom slinks in simply to pester him, and even cirrus makes a show during mary on a cross of wriggling around on the floor like a worm in the dirt.

he's about to be done with it all (thank the gods below) when the last ghoul saunters in. he's jamming through square hammer when dew sidles up to him, and there's no games, no teasing to his distraction. swiss gasps over the chorus, choking on his saliva suddenly, when dew presses his hard-on into his ass and snakes an arm between their bodies and between swiss' legs. he grabs him by his cock firmly and with his entire hand, squeezes and gropes at his soft length like he's trying to claw at it through the fabric. swiss hears the ugly noise that screams from his instrument before he realizes that his fingers have stopped working-- his entire brain has stopped working-- and dew is unrelenting. swiss feels his knees buckle when dew awkwardly reaches around his front with his free hand to grapple at his balls. and now, with his entire package in his hands, he can't possibly finish the last song.

"what the hell, dew?" he says, exasperated, and tries to get out of his grasp. but dew is stronger than he looks. he just grips him harder until swiss is sucking air between his teeth at the pleasurable pressure (and hardening up under his palms) and begins the exaggerated gesture of pretending to jack him off beneath his guitar.

finally, when swiss manages to break free from him, does dew speak.

"you fucked up the song, asshole."

swiss can only gawk as he releases him and leaves the practice room without looking back.

---

message recieved. loud and clear:

don't fuck with your packmates while they're working.

[quitelitteghoulpup]

The sounds and meaning of ghoul noises

Purr: relaxed, happy, joyful

Chirps: exited, nervous, happy

Growling: protecting, angry, (sometimes horney)

Whimpers: hurt, needy, begging

Screeching: frightened, angry

Snoring: sleeping

[earthry]

seeing copia in person made me realize just how unbelievably soft he is sometimes? like, little noises and exclamations into the mic, how he’s happy and it feels like he’s beaming when the crowd is happy, being encouraging and affectionate with his ghouls/ghoulettes.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

I am so sorry for this, I don't know what happened to me but once again, here I am writting angst instead of happily pretending everyone is alive and happy.

Alpha is a hard ghoul to scare.

He's ancient- not as old as Omega, Zephyr or Earth, but definitely older than most of the newer ghouls. He's seen things, in the pit and topside, beyond horrific, has blood on his hands, and is intimately familiar with its coppery taste.

And yet, as he holds a gasping Omega against his chest, Alpha has never been more terrified in his entire life.

Omega, sturdy, reliable Omega, unshakeable Omega, is falling appart in Alpha's arms, and there's nothing the fire ghoul can do.

Nothing but hold him tight and pray his suffering will end. In his despair, Alpha curses how human they've become, after spending so much time amongst them. Human enough to feel much more than a ghoul should. Human enough to get attatched, to fall in love. Oh, how Alpha curses love.

Omega is sobbing, gut-wreching cries that echo in his bedroom, clinging to Alpha like letting go would kill them both. It takes a while for the fire ghoul to realize the litany of broken noises escaping Omega's mouth are actually words.

I can't, I can't, I can't.

Alpha doesn't need to ask what Omega means. Omega cannot fanthom a world without Terzo. Cannot imagine his life without the one bright star that so thoroughly changed it. Cannot bear the agony of loss and grief. And Alpha is torn between terror and rage. Because he cannot help.

He grieves, too, of course he does. Terzo is- was his friend, Primo his first Papa and a man he highly respected, and Secondo...Alpha would rather not think about the man's rare raspy laugh right now. Something about the taste of missed opportunities isn't very appealing at the moment.

Alpha grieves, too, but he doesn't know what having someone who had weaved their way into his very soul torn away from him feels like. So he tightens his helpless arms around Omega, and prays that there will be something left of the quint's shattered heart.

So yes, Alpha, tough, I've-seen-much-worse Alpha, is trembling in terror as he witnesses the strongest ghoul he ever knew getting torn from the inside out by love's ugly twin, grief.

[coffeeghoulie]

“God, you always make me blush so damn much.” And uhhhhhh gimme rain and mountain ? (:

I need to write more mount/rain. they're so good.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

The junebugs sing, a sharp steady drone cutting through the laketide lapping at the pebble beach. Mountain sits at the end of the dock, pants cuffed up his past his knees, boots and socks set on the sunworn wood next to him. The water is cool and refreshing against his feet, sore after a long day's work in the gardens and greenhouses.

He's content in the calm, his element calling to him, but he knows he's not alone. Mountain stares out over the lake, the surface calm and glassy-still. His eyes lock onto a dark shape under the water, moving elegantly a dozen yards out, getting closer.

If he were anything else, Mountain would be worried. Even so, he feels the tickle of instinctive fear in the back of his brain. He ignores it, dragging his feet through the water, ripples radiating out from it.

He knows better.

Mountain leans forward as the dark shape gets closer, and closer, and closer, and he can't hide the way the smile grows on his face. He most certainly doesn't yelp when a hand shoots up from the water and grabs his ankle. It's cold against his sunwarm skin.

A ghoul follows the hand, a splash rippling out from where he surfaces. Even soaking wet and hair hanging in dark, dripping rivulets around his face, Rain is the most beautiful thing Mountain's ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. Unglamoured, cerulean skin, spattered with little silver freckles across shoulders and cheekbones and the bridge of his Roman nose. His finned ears and gills flare teal, fluttering as the air hits them, and dark sapphire eyes shine in the sunlight.

"Why, hello there, handsome," Rain croons, thumb smoothing in an arch over the dimple on the inside of Mountain's ankle. He hauls himself up until he settles half out of the water between Mountain's legs. "I didn't know I had an audience."

Mountain's lips quirk up in a playful smirk. "Can you blame me?"

Rain cocks his head, leaning his wet hair against the inside of Mountain's thigh. "Not at all," he says, serrated teeth flashing. Mountain can feel the magick dripping from his voice, siren's song tugging at the animal part of his brain.

If he were a human man, he would have dove into the water the moment Rain opened his mouth. As it stands, Mountain's still considering it.

He'd be happy to admit it wouldn't take any of Rain's magick to convince him.

Rain rubs his cheek against the rough denim inseam, eyes wide and almost innocent. "The water's very nice today, sunflower."

Mountain nods, still smiling. "I know," he says, raking the foot Rain isn't grabbing through the water and watching the ripples it makes. "Very nice indeed."

The water ghoul rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling up at him. He turns to press a kiss to the inside of his thigh, putting his finned ear directly in Mountain's line of sight.

He smiles fondly, gently running a finger along the arches of his ear, laughing kindly as it flicks against Rain's head. The noise it draws from him is a far cry from the confident siren from a few moments ago.

A violet blush starts to spread over Rain's face, making the silver freckles really stand out on his cheeks. They flicker iridescent in the sun, silver and rainbow glittering in the light. Mountain smiles, continuing the path of his finger along the edge of Rain's ear.

Rain stammers, stock still between Mountain's legs. "Lucifer, you always make me blush so damn much," Rain spits out. But Mountain knows him too well. He's only pretending to be embarrassed. Mountain can't see it, but he knows his tail is flicking through the water behind him. He doesn't move away from Mountain's touch, the most damning evidence of all.

"Oh, come on, pretty little siren," Mountain says, finger trailing from the shell of his ear down the line of his jaw. He takes the point of Rain's chin between his fingers, guiding him to look up at him. "What's wrong with that?"

Rain's expression softens, leaning into Mountain's hand. "Oh, nothing," he says, cheeks dimpling. His thumb still smooths little patterns against his ankle, and his other hand comes up to rest against his wrist. "Nothing at all."

Mountain leans in to press a kiss to Rain's dusky violet lips. Rain's grip on his limbs shifts, suddenly irontight around his joints.

He has just a moment for his eyes to go wide before Rain dives under the surface, the force yanking him into the lake with a crash of water.

It's freezing. His eyes are still open, and he can see Rain's laughter bubbling from his gills and mouth. If he didn't have to worry about breathing, he could live in this moment forever.

They both breach the surface, Mountain sucking in a gasp and spitting out water. "Rain!" He gasps, faux-admonished as he treads water. Rain laughs, and it's more beautiful than any siren's song. He runs his fingers through his hair, shoving tangled auburn strands back from his antlers.

Once the initial shock of cold ebbs, Mountain grins, something wicked in his emerald eyes as he splashes Rain. The water ghoul splutters, before splashing him back.

Their laughter carries all the way back to the Abbey.