Mountain The Type Of Mf To Split You In Half, Make You Come So Hard You Black Out, Then Politely Thank

Mushy May Day 16

(bonus prompt 10) "shut up i'm taking care of you"

Cw's: mental health problems. isolation, self deprecation, issues eating, non-sexual nudity (showering together). but it is a mushy prompts list, so all ends well!

notes; this one was like a mind flayer and took control over my hands and suddenly there 1,2k words of hurt/comfort, my fave. thanks as always to @forlorn-crows for putting together the prompts!

Rain didn’t… know what happened. The day before, everything was fine. Normal even. They ate their dinner with the pack, played on their acoustic with Dew, and then went to bed. It was an easy, simple night. They laid in their bed, exhaustion heavy in their muscles, but their mind raced.

They knew they were okay. Logically they knew the pack cared so deeply about them. Logic, unfortunately, was not winning the battle tonight. They felt the first round of tears sting and scrubbed viciously at their eyes, their breathing shaky. Their mind screamed at them to hide away, isolate from their pack until they were nothing more than a nameless ghoul. No one would notice, they figured. 

But, logically, everyone would notice. They knew logically. 

It started with a quiet knock in the morning. A little later than when they usually woke up, but a sleepless night forced the exhaustion to seep further down into their bones. The knock wasn’t persistent, just someone coming to wake them up for breakfast. Judging from the footfall after they knocked, it was most likely either Aurora or Cirrus. Rain opted with Cirrus.

Twenty minutes went by before the next round of knocking started, followed by Aether’s soft voice. He mentioned that they left a plate for them in the oven, and that he was there for them if they wanted to talk. That they all were. They curled into themselves further, throwing the blanket over their eyes to hide even farther. Had they really done this so much that the pack knew their patterns? It hadn’t even been an hour and already they were being a nuisance to their pack. 

The day wasted away. They only got up to use the bathroom before crawling back to their bed. The bedding felt heavy against their skin, the pillow somehow greasy, but it was all they had in the moment. It felt like they were in fight or flight, and their body and mind couldn’t pick an option. 

A few others came by throughout the morning and into the afternoon. Most would knock, call out, and then leave when they got no response. They heard Phantom walk by at some point, and the young quint didn’t knock nor call out. Rain thought they had left quietly before they quietly sighed, just barely loud enough that Rain could hear, before finally walking away. They felt a fresh batch of tears well in their eyes at the disappointment obvious in the quint.

It was nearing the evening of the day. Rain stayed in their fetal position most of the day, their body aching in ways that were comforting but ultimately awful. They felt cold, a type that couldn’t be fixed with blankets. Their stomach groaned in need of food but they felt nauseous at the thought of eating or drinking anything. They had flitted in and out of sleep for most of the day, but the exhaustion made its way down through their bones and into their core. 

They were woken up from their nth nap of the day by the doorknob turning and the door opening. They smelt before they heard Mountain enter, the earthy smell of sage and rosemary flooding their room. They held their breath and kept their body stone still, scared of what he was here to do. They felt guilt immediately for assuming the worst in the gentle giant, but kept still. 

Instead of anything malicious, he sat down at the end of the bed and placed his hand against their calf. He messaged at the skin. It was so warm. Their eyes stared directly ahead of them to the blank wall, not daring to look at him.

“Rain,” he quietly called out. They didn’t respond. 

He sighed and took his hand away to stand. They violently flinched when he scooped his arms under them and picked them up bridal style. They shut their eyes tight.

“We’re going to wash up,” Mountain pulled the mounds of blankets off and away from them, the dull thud as they fell sharp against their ears, “and then try and get some food into you. Does that sound good, starfish?” 

Rain kept their eyes shut. Mountain took it as a yes and walked towards the bathroom. 

He sat them on the toilet and they slouched heavily until their head hit his stomach. He twisted to turn the water on before he focused his attention back towards them. With a bit of maneuvering, the two managed to get their clothes off, Rain being very little help. Mountain said nothing as he lowered Rain onto their shower seat, the spray of the water forcing a heavy sigh out of them. He shucked his shirt to the ground and stepped in himself, just to the side of them. They hesitated every movement as he helped get them clean; fingers twitching when he asked for them to lift their arm, head locked in place when he pointed the sprayer towards their hair. Everything built up higher and higher in their small body until it came crumbling down when he massaged the shampoo into their curls, his blunt fingers rubbing soothing circles into their scalp. Their face, deadpan and void of emotion before, broke into a deep frown as the tears that teased them all day finally fell down their face, an ugly sob coming deep from their chest. They held their head in their hands while Mountain continued to lather the soap through their hair. They leaned into his touch, suds spreading to his abdomen. He kicked up a purr that vibrated through their ears to their brain. They sobbed harder, loud whines and hiccups and guttural cries.

“I’m-” they sucked in a harsh breath, “I’m sor- sorry-”

“None of that,” Mountain spoke softly but firm, voice unwavering. 

“I was being- being so selfish.” They argued. 

He shook his head. “It happens, starfish.”

“And now I’m f-forcing you to deal with me-” they were interrupted by him leaning down, just enough for them to see him through tears, and his smile was so gentle, so caring. So genuine. It made them fall harder into him.

“None of that.” Mountain stood back up and leaned over to grab the spray. They let his firm hand tip their head back as he began washing the suds out of their hair. “I’m taking care of you.”

The rest of the shower consisted of Mountain rubbing conditioner through their hair as their sobbing died down into something quiet. He helped them dry off and put into clean clothing, boxers and a shirt that was definitely not theirs. He opened the bathroom door and their nose twitched. It led them to their nightstand, where a bowl of oatmeal sat. Mountain sat them on their bed, the covers and pillows no longer feeling heavy but warm and comfortable, and crawled in himself. He whispered kind words as they carefully ate, the bowl warm against their thighs. They set the bowl back down after a few bites, stomach still upset from their mental turmoil of the day. Mountain didn’t complain, though. He praised them as he tucked the two of them in.

Rain hid themselves away into his chest, arms cautiously wrapped around his waist. He purred loud enough for the next room over to hear. They rubbed their head against him in an attempt to scent him, his scent lulling them into a soft mindset and heavy eyes.

“Mount,” they slurred into his skin. He hummed in question.

“Thank you.” 

He shifted a hand to their still damp hair and began scratching at their horns. They began to purr as well. 

Tying The Knot

[Get your head out of the gutter, this one is actually a wholesome one. RainDrop.] Below the cut.

The day he met Dew, the ghoul had been a stiff breeze away from crumbling away, shaking like a leaf as he tried to remain on his feet.

He'd learn much later the reason; That he'd fought tooth and nail to keep his packmate from tearing him apart in a rage, and that the shiver, that terrible, persistent tremble of his body, was it trying to stay upright.

At the time, Rain had not seen the hand splayed across his back -a sister of sin steadying him-, had not seen the way Terzo had eyed him from across the room, the last remnant of his old pack, barely holding onto life, but alive.

More than anything, the thing Rain noticed about Dew was that he was alive.

Were it not for the raspy hiss of his breathing, it would have been easy to liken him to a corpse.

It had bothered him for so long, the idea that Dew had been forced out of bed to witness not only his summoning, but that of the others, who poured out of the pit, half feral and lost, snapping at anyone who got close, but he hadn't been.

This had been an indulgence.

Dew wanted to see them.

And when coal black eyes gazed upon them all; Rain could feel him staring through them, through him.

It was then that Rain knew Dew was a creature born of spite, of persistence...

He remembers his first approach.

Unfazed by the chatter of teeth or swipe of claws.

With his fingers dipped in a mixture of ash and blood, he aided in anointing them all, and, now, when he sees Dew in his robes during one of Copia's sermons, it's all he can think of.

Dew stands now at the head of the chapel, back to him, long white hair tied back into a careful braid, the one Rain remembers practicing late at night.

It's done in a style from the pit, the kind you have to learn from an elder, impossible to find on youtube, even if similar patterns exist.

His hands twitch, wanting to drag through the strands and tug it loose, to undo all his hard work in a single pull, because if he knew how seeing him like this would make him feel, he'd never had tied those knots in the first place.

Each cross is a promise, woven to remind the wearer they are loved.

Rain watches the little ribbon he tied to secure the braid in place peek out; A bright, joyous red that contrasts heavily against Dew's pale hair.

Bolder than he thought it would be, and now Rain can feel eyes on him from among the pews.

His packmates know they didn't tie that ribbon, and all of them know such an intricate braid could not be done by Dew's hands alone, no matter how skilled he may be with his fingers.

Rain swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

It's...

It's a little too obvious what he's saying with all of this.

He's embarrassed, yes, but more than that...

He's nervous that Dew won't understand the meaning of this gesture.

Dew may be a ghoul like the rest of them, but, much like Swiss -who was born and raised on the surface- he has no memories of the pit.

The soul inhabiting his vessel is a mix.

An even blend of demon and man, but his consciousness solely belongs to the entity that lived topside.

He doesn't understand their culture.

Let alone the niche courting habits of an oceanic subspecies of water ghoul like Rain's.

At best, Dew thinks it's just a cool hairstyle.

At worst, he thinks it's lame or weird, or-

"Rain." a shockingly gentle voice calls to him, and when he looks up...

Dew looks down at him, standing above his seated form, his expression softer than he's seen it in a long time.

"You look terribly sad for a man who's just proposed."

Rain stutters, covering his face with his hands, looking as if he's about to burst.

"...You knew?"

"I guessed based on how much you were sweating while tying my hair back." he replies teasingly, "And Mist told me, ages ago. Not about you doing this, but about the practice in general."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Rain tucks his head between his knees.

"Are you okay??"

"...Gimme a year to recover before you tell me yes or no, I don't think my heart can take it."

Dew grins.

"If I say 'yes' will you die on the spot, or-"

"Can y'all be mushy somewhere else, it's putting me off Papa's sermon about pre-martial sex." Cirrus groans, "Congrats, but also, fuck off!"

"Boo! Boo, Cirrus! Ruining our moment..." Dew sticks his tongue out

"...The sermon was about sex? Was he for or against it??" Aeon frets, "I wasn't listening!"

Everyone turns to the other ghoul, frowning.

"W-What??"

"Do we look like Christians to you-"

Mushy May Day Ten - Quiet Nights

Ship: Swiss/Phantom

Notes: Watching fireflies. I had a silly thought about what if Phantom’s freckles could glow in the dark. Prompt list by @forlorn-crows. See prompt list here

Word Count:  406

Read on AO3 or below the cut

“Whatcha thinking about Bug?” Swiss ruffles Phantom’s hair to get the younger ghoul’s attention. They’re both sitting out on the lawn watching the sun go down when Swiss notices that Phantom has zoned out.

“Do you think the deep sea creatures get lonely down there?”

Swiss laughs, caught off guard. “What?”

“You know, the bathypelagic zone where it’s really dark. Do you think they get lonely?”

“You’ve been watching sea documentaries with Rain again haven't you? I mean, probably not. They probably like it down there. Plus they’ve got that glowy thing they can do-”

“Bioluminescence!” Phantom says proudly.

“Yeah! They can use that to find each other.”

Phantom seems to consider this for a moment before blurting out, “Fireflies!”

“Hmm? Yeah fireflies can glow too.”

“No, fireflies!” Phantom points at the air in front of them until Swiss chuckles in understanding.

“Ahh. I hadn't realized they’d come out yet. It’s still a bit early in the season.”

They sit in silence for a while watching the glowing insects flash their lights like little twinkling stars. Swiss is pretty sure Phantom has started to stare off into space again when he chirps,

“I can glow too.”

He says it so casually that Swiss is sure he misheard.

“You sure can Bug, my little star.”

Only when he sees Phantom grinning at him from his peripheral does he turn his head.

“Holy shit.”

Phantom can in fact glow. More specifically his freckles are lit up, dotting his face in little sparks of light. They cross his face and bare shoulders, exposed by the tank top he stole from Swiss, like constellations. His vitiligo backdrops the lights like a swirling nebula.

“Have you always been able to do this?” Swiss asks, a little incredulous.

“Yeah.” Phantom shrugs.

“And you just now thought to mention it?”

Phantom shrugs again.

“You’re just full of surprises, my little lightning bug.”

He pulls the quintessence ghoul close and kisses each of the freckles on his nearest cheek. When Phantom giggles and presents the other side of his face, Swiss kisses him there too. After, Swiss squints.

“I think I missed one.”

“Where…oh!”

Swiss cups Phantom's chin to pull him close and kisses the freckle on his bottom lip.

Phantom blushes, and his glowing freckles twinkle. “I think you missed another one.” He points to the purse of his lips and smiles shyly.

“Well I can’t forget that one can I?” Swiss grins.

I can't even eat my feelings today because of Ozempic

boyfriends

Mushy May Day 3 & 4 - Massage & Wound Tending/First Aid (Aether/Dew)

Ended up combining days 3 and 4 into one fic. Based loosely on that time Dew (presumably) injured his arm during the Prequelle era. As always, thank you @forlorn-crows for organizing this and to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!

Day 3 & 4 - Massage & Wound Tending/First Aid (Aether/Dew), cw for Dew's shoulder injury. Hurt/comfort, fluff, 1518 words

Aether notices it right away. The way Dew seems to be favoring one arm. The way he furrows his brow and rolls his shoulder seemingly every five minutes. How he makes soft little grunts and sighs of discontent at night when he’s trying to settle into his bunk above Aether’s on the bus. 

When he broaches the subject, Dew denies anything is wrong. His shoulder is just a little sore is all. Maybe he slept funny, he says, brushing off Aether’s concerns.

But Aether knows the truth, and is pretty sure the whole pack knows what’s up actually. It’s Dew’s new guitar. The Fantomen. For as beautiful as it looks and as powerful as it sounds, the son of a bitch is heavy. Even for Aether it can be unwieldy at times.

Of course Dew hasn’t let it affect his playing. He never would. He’s far too proud, and rightfully so. Dew’s the best player Aether has ever seen anywhere in his life. And his playing continues to be immaculate, so Aether doesn’t want to push. Instead he watches Dew power through their set each night for weeks.

Until Dew’s shoulder gives out completely in the middle of a ritual.

A missed note, glaringly obvious. Rare to be due to Dew’s mistake and not because of some equipment malfunction (or Aether’s own mistake throwing Dew off, something he can admit has happened more than once). Aether whips his head towards the fire ghoul, knowing immediately that something is seriously wrong. Copia and the other ghouls are watching him now too.

Dew curls in on himself for just a split second before catching himself and resuming his perfect playing. But Aether knows the damage has been done when Dew purposefully ignores the rest of his stage cues and instead shuffles unsteadily towards the back of the stage as he finishes out the song.

Thank Satan they’re at an intermission. Time for Copia to change out of his white suit and into the red cassock. Instead of taking his usual water break, Aether books it towards Dew, who he finds leaning against the wall just past the curtain.

Aether knows it's bad because Dew has his mask off. His face is pale and he’s sweating bullets, cradling his arm against his body as he struggles to even out his breathing. But before he can do anything there’s chaos. Copia and the crew are scrambling to do what they can to keep the show going. Aether is being ushered back to stage before he can get a word in. 

In the end Dew insists he can finish out the show from backstage, perched on a stool where he can rest the weight of the Fantomen on his lap. He even comes back onstage for final bows, cradling his bad arm gingerly, and Aether finds himself trailing behind him protectively instead of his usual routine of throwing out guitar picks and interacting with the audience. 

Finally, the curtain goes down and they’re free to go. Thankfully it’s a hotel night and then they’re off for two days before they travel to the next city. A small victory.

As soon as they’re in the room, Aether is looking Dew over while Copia watches on worriedly. Dew keeps grumbling that ghouls heal fast, so he’ll be fine, but Aether can see otherwise. The shoulder is swollen, angry red and inflamed. Dew’s definitely pulled something, maybe even a tear, and then he continued to irritate it night after night until it gave out. Aether feels guilty that he didn’t notice it was this bad before, that he wasn’t more insistent. He could have used some of his quintessence to keep it from going this far… He shakes the thought away for the time being.

“Alright,” Aether sighs and turns to Copia. “The bad news is, as of right now his shoulder’s fucked,” he says point blank. No point in sugar-coating any of this now. Copia pales and he hears Dew swallow nervously and shift from where he’s sitting on the bed behind him. 

“Good news is, I can fix him up in the next two days.” He turns to Dew to see a wave of relief wash across his otherwise stoic face. “But he’s gonna have to take it easy for a while after that. And that much healing takes a lot of quintessence, a ton of energy. If we push it any farther than that, you’re gonna end up out two guitarists.”

Copia agrees and they make arrangements for Aether and Dew to stay in his suite while Copia takes one of the regular rooms. The cardinal bids them goodnight and lets them know he’ll get them anything they need to be comfortable for the next few days while Aether works on Dew’s arm.

As soon as he leaves, Aether turns to Dew. He wants more than anything to scoop the little ghoul up in his arms and shower him in kisses, but he knows better than to jostle his bad arm. At any rate, Dew hates to be fussed over.

“How do you feel?” Aether chances, popping the cap of his water bottle and handing it to Dew along with a couple painkillers. 

Dew snorts, avoiding Aether’s eyes. “Like absolute dogshit,” he answers, blunt as always, before swallowing the pills and chugging half of Aether’s water.

“Alright then,” he motions to the compression shirt Dew still has on. “Let’s get this thing off of you so I can work on getting some of the swelling down.”

It isn’t easy, but they work together to hold Dew’s tender shoulder steady while Aether slowly peels the fabric from Dew’s body. Dew winces as he finally pulls his arm out of the sleeve, and Aether presses an apologetic little kiss to Dew’s temple.

The kiss seems to break some of the tension, and Dew’s body sags. He looks up at Aether with a sad little frown on his face. He looks guilty. “Sorry, Aeth…” he starts. “I know I should have said something before it got this bad…” he trails off.”

Aether shakes his head, tells Dew not to worry, that he’ll have him fixed up in no time. Jokes that thanks to his bum shoulder, they get to lounge around in Copia’s suite for two days in a king sized bed and in the jacuzzi tub. Says that if they play their cards right, Copia will probably even let them call for room service to their hearts’ content. The mention of room service seems to lighten Dew’s mood even further.

Meanwhile, Aether works Dew’s shoulder, pressing feather light touches to sensitive flesh while he focuses his energy on delivering enough quintessence to calm the inflammation. Once he’s satisfied with their progress, Aether pulls away to go draw a hot bath. Before he can go Dew reaches out, grabs his hand and pulls Aether back to him.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Dew says softly, looking up at Aether. He holds Dew’s gaze, contemplating, before leaning in and kissing him on the lips, carding his fingers through Dew’s hair until they’re both humming contentedly against each other. 

Later, Aether sits beside the tub while Dew soaks, periodically working another round of quintessence into Dew’s shoulder as the little ghoul dozes off, finally beginning to relax as the pain goes down thanks to Aether’s ministrations.

Aether helps Dew out of the tub and wraps him in a fluffy bathrobe from the closet. Between the quintessence, the painkillers, and the hot bath, Dew is ready to crash. Aether guides him on wobbly legs to the bed, helping him lay face down into the pillows. From his prone position, Dew wriggles his shoulder.

“Feels better now,” Dew slurs, eyelids fluttering closed. “Can move it now n’everything.” He moves his shoulder in another little circle to demonstrate.

Aether chuckles. He loves to see Dew like this, blissed out and sleepy, he just wishes it were under different circumstances. Aether feels exhaustion pulling on him as well, between the crash of adrenaline after Dew’s injury and the copious amounts of quintessence he pumped into the little fire ghoul, his body is feeling beat. He’ll need rest soon, too.

But first, he climbs onto the bed and straddles Dew’s hips, careful not to press down too hard or to knock into his arm.

“Backrub?” Dew asks, eyes still closed and face pressed into the pillows.

“Backrub,” Aether confirms, leaning in to run his palms up Dew’s back, letting another dose of quintessence bleed from his fingertips into the fire ghoul’s soft skin, paying special attention to his injured shoulder. He massages Dew’s back until the little ghoul is half asleep and purring into the sheets.

Two days later, and they’re back on the road, en route to the next venue, Dew feeling better and set to shred once again, under the caveat that he doesn’t overdo it just yet. Aether has appointed himself Dew’s own personal masseuse. Now, after every ritual, Dew gets a nice, long, quintessence-infused shoulder rub.

Dew is happy to let Aether fuss over him, just this once.

Swiss covering my mouth...I mean, Phantom's mouth with his big hands. Now, that's a thought.

Phantom from being all shy and quiet when he first enters the pack to him being the most vocal little cutie during sex. Not able to keep quiet for more than a second. He also has to giggle in between the most obscene moans and whimpers. Sometimes he is so loud and nonstop moaning and muttering filthy nonsense that it gets a bit too much for his partners.

They say Swiss sometimes covers Phantom's mouth with his hand and tells him to "shut the fuck up, already" while he fucks him.

This only makes Phantom lose his mind more. Obviously. 👹

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 20: 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈

pairing(s): mountain/sunshine words: 597

Sunshine pushes the seeds into their little cups of dirt, wriggling happily where she’s sat on top of the workbench. Mountain’s favorite playlist to work to plays over the little speaker in the corner of the greenhouse, and she jabs her finger into the soil in time to the music. A cool breeze seeps in from the open doors, fresh and floral spring air intermittently cutting through the humidity as they work together to prep herbs and pepper plants. It’s easy; no place she’d rather be. Sunshine croons along with the rich tenor voice of the song, tail thumping against the leg of the table. 

The song fades out and another one begins, the bass plucking out a simple two note rhythm. Mountain perks up from his soil mixing station, looking over to Sunny with a goofy grin on his face. She knows the song, and his routine to it, but it doesn’t make her any less giddy. He sways his hips when the guitar comes in, walking over to her as he snaps his fingers perfectly on beat, miming the drum opening and crooning (slightly off key but still on beat):

I’ve got sunshi-i-ine . . . on a cloudy da-a-ay. He holds his hands out to her. When it’s cold outsi-i-ide, I-I’ve got the month of May. His hands are gritty as she takes them, hopping off the bench and smiling big. 

I. Guess. You’d. Say. He leans in, pressing their noses together. What. Can. Make. Me feel this wa-a-y? He grabs her by the waist, pulling out a giggle as he pulls her into the middle of the room, right into a patch of dappled afternoon sun.

My gi-i-irl . . . talkin’ ‘bo-out my gi-i-irl.

My girl! Sunny jumps in. I’ve got soooo much ho-oney, the bees envy me. She mimes the trumpets in the background with fingers in front of her mouth.

I’ve got a sweeter so-o-ong, Mountain continues, than the birds in the tre-ees. 

We-e-ell. I. Guess. You’d. Say. He lifts her up by her bum, bouncing her to the words as he sings them into her jawline. What. Can. Make. Me feel this wa-a-y? 

Sunshine giggles ferociously and kicks her feet. His scruffy beard tickles her neck and she squeals: “Mount!” 

My gi-i-irl . . . talkin’ bout my gi-i-irl. The earth ghoul spins her around and peppers her in kisses—big, noisy ones that tickle her skin even more. His voice cracks as he tries to hit the high notes on the ooh’s, to which Sunny shakes her head at him, presses their foreheads together, and teasingly sings the correct notes against his lips. He chuckles and pecks at her lips. The instrumental bridge slows them down, and Mountain places her back down onto the ground. But he doesn’t let her go, taking her hands instead and pushing and pulling them in alternating directions with a silly flair. 

“How’re you so perfect, my sweet, sunshine-y girl?” he asks her.

Sunny rolls her eyes and smiles. “Do you like me or something?” she jests. 

“Maybe just a little.” He lifts one of her hands and kisses her knuckles. A little olive blush graces his cheeks, and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. 

Sunshine tugs her hand back when he doesn’t stop kissing it, yanking him back to their task. “Come on, loverboy, we’ve got seeds to plant, yeah?”

“Do you want to switch for a bit? I know that,” he gestures to her stack of seedling trays, “gets tedious after a while.”

“You just want to stare at my ass bending over the soil bags.” 

Mountain just shrugs. “Guilty.”

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿ divider by the wonderful @ghuleh-recs

....who was gonna tell me THIS photo of mountain existed???

his...he....

He charged the hell out of that ass slap

Video Credits: fake_ghost_girl