#soft ghouls

[byeashhh]

the laziest ghoul alive mini fic where swiss is supposed to be at rehearsal. instead, he’s wrapped around you like a blanket and insisting on “five more minutes.” (this is in no way to have any amount of defense towards the actions of the man behind the mask, justin "jutty" taylor)

contains: light physical affection, domestic fluff, mild language, implied relationship, sleepy teasing, gender neutral reader (no explicit content — just soft intimacy and comfort after a show)

morning in the ghoul den came slowly. the air was cool, heavy with the faint smell of coffee drifting from somewhere down the hall, and the low rumble of other ghouls moving about. but swiss wasn’t moving.

he lay tangled in a heap of blankets and limbs, they caught somewhere under the weight of him. a faint shaft of light filtered through the curtain, landing across his face and he made a low noise of protest, burying his head against the nearest soft thing, which happened to be their chest. “swiss,” they said, voice muffled through his hair. “you’re crushing me.”

he grumbled, voice thick with sleep. “hmm. you’re comfy. guess i’ll just die here.” they laughed quietly, trying to shift, but his arm only tightened around their waist. his tail flicked lazily once, the tip curling over their leg as if to anchor himself even more. “you’ve got rehearsal,” they reminded him. “no i don’t,” he mumbled, eyes still shut. “that’s future swiss’s problem. present swiss is hibernating.”

they brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, amusement softening into something warmer. “you’re impossible.” “mmm,” he hummed, nuzzling in closer. “you love it.”

“do i?” they teased. he cracked one eye open, a grin forming despite the sleep still tugging at him. “yeah, you do. i’m adorable in the morning. irresistible.” they rolled their eyes, though their hand didn’t stop carding through his hair. “you’re a menace.”

“a beloved menace,” he corrected, voice fading as he sank back toward sleep. “five more minutes…” five minutes turned into ten. then twenty.

by the time someone knocked on the door, probably dewdrop yelling that he was late again, swiss still hadn’t moved. he only groaned and pulled the blanket over both their heads, tail flicking in irritation. “tell them i’m dead,” he muttered.

“dead people don’t purr, swiss.”

“then i’m undead,” he mumbled. “still not leaving.” and so they stayed tangled up in warmth and lazy laughter, the world outside the den fading away for just a little longer.

[iamthecomet]

Com please tell us about Swiss and Dew being soft, share your endless wisdom and correct opinions

I'm on it, boss!

Look, I know these two are chaos incarnate. I know Swiss loves to needle Dew, loves to poke and prod and tease. They snarl and snap at each other as often as they are civil, it's just the way they are.

Swiss loves to instigate. Dew loves to fight back. Perpetually annoyed by Swiss' existence. They're an unlikely pair for soft. But when they are? They are.

Swiss can read Dew like a book. He knows when not to poke and prod. Knows when Dew needs to be ushered away with an arm around his shoulder. Swiss knows just how hot to run the bath, which herbs help Dew chill out. He knows if Dew wants him in the water with him, or if he just wants Swiss to take care of him and then fuck off.

And it goes both ways. Dew knows when Swiss' dreams have kept him up. He knows when he's on edge. Knows when the poking and proding are cries for help rather than a game.

They spend so many nights snarling and snapping at each other only to wake up the next morning curled around each other. And on those mornings hell comes for whoever tries to separate them. They are bound together through shared annoyance. Through understanding.

When they're alone--there is less antagonizing. It's done a little more lovingly. Little jabs thrown back and forth as they luxuriate together in bed. A joint shared between them.

Its one place where neither of them have to explain themselves. They can just be. They don't even have to talk. They just *get* each other.

And maybe no one else gets it. But that's ok. No one else has to.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Some MountainDew thoughts.

Mountain likes collecting things in the forest. Fallen acorns, interesting leaves, pine cones, you name it. He feels a strong connection to his element when he's surrounded by nature, under a canopy of greenery, which helps him to recharge especially after a stressful tour.

Dew often joins him on his walks, the pair enjoying each other's company and the gentle sounds of the outdoors. But he doesn't quite get the same benefits as Mountain does, or that he used to as a water ghoul. Fire in a forest is an unstable and fragile combination, and he is frequently exhausted when they return with the effort of keeping his Fire fully locked down.

One day Mountain has an idea of how best to combine their walks with their elements. On his next walk, he gathers up fallen logs and takes them back to the warm greenhouse to dry, and cut into rounds.

After their next foraging trip, Mountain takes Dew by the hand and pulls him towards the greenhouse, saying he has something to show him. When they enter, Mountain has laid out several pieces of wood across a workbench, along with a soldering iron.

"I thought we could try something new together. It's called woodburning. It seemed like a nice activity to speak to both our elements?" he says shyly, directing Dew to sit down at the workbench. When Dew reaches for the soldering iron, Mountain catches his wrist and gently strokes over the backs of his fingers.

"You've got your own already, Firelily." He flashes the claws on his other hand, and Dew gets the idea. Gently pressing a claw to the slab of wood in front of him, Dew focusses his internal heat into his claw and drags it across the wood. A waft of woodsmoke curls towards him and he inhales deeply. It smells like the den in winter, when they light the fire in the common room and the whole pack huddles together in front of it. Comforting, like family.

Pulling his hand away to inspect his work, he sees the deep brown line inlaid in the wood. It reminds him of the tattoos adorning his skin. He smiles up at Mountain, as he begins drawing vines around the edge of his own piece of wood with the soldering iron.

Much later that day, once the autumn sky had burned out and darkness had fallen, Mountain and Dewdrop returned to the Abbey. Mountain holding a stack of coasters they had each made, and Dew clutching his favorite piece - a plaque they had worked on together - to his chest.

"Thank you Mount, today was great."

🍂🍃🍂

I looked up a reference image of this craft and its proper name after writing half of this, and this was the second image on google. via veganchickensoup on Reddit. So this is what Mount'n'Dew made together.

[iamthecomet]

Mountain likes to bake cookies and one day he made his weed cookies too strong. Dew ate like 5 and was so high he asked cumulus and cirri to catch the clouds for him and put them in a jar

Oh my god but WHAT IF THEY COULD THOUGH? Like Dew laying on his back in the grass on a warm spring day with Cirrus and Cumulus, watching clouds. They're all stoned. Mountain's cookies are legendary. And Dew's pointing at clouds, mumbling about what he sees in them when he suddenly turns to Cirrus, eyes wide and stupid. "Can you catch them?" And I mean--maybe they can't really pull clouds of the sky--but they can recreate them. Cirrus is off to find a jar (she just ducks into Mountain's garden shed--he deserves a little theft after what he's done to them) and comes back with a big mason jar. Meanwhile Cumulus is sculpting a cloud between her hands, pushing and pulling at it to get the shape right. Dew tries to help--it looks like cotton candy so it should be tangible, but his fingers just go right through it. Earning a laugh from Lus--air magic--she reminds him. She lets the cloud float into the jar once it's done. And the three of them spend the rest of the afternoon making a little sky of their own inside this jar. Dew supervising their cloud creation to make sure they get it just right. After, that jar lives on his shelf of things in his room, cloud eternally floating around in their makeshift sky.

[iamthecomet]

i have soft-during-sex ghoul thoughts

Alpha is so afraid of exacerbating Zephyr's pain, so when they're being intimate, it's always on Zephyr's side. Alpha lays behind them, chest pressed against their back, and turns up the heat to keep Zephyr's muscles soothed. Alpha keeps a pillow under their hip, and delicately holds their leg as they...

It's slow, warm, delicate but so important to Zephyr because no one has taken the time or thought to put this much effort into being with them.

Oughhhhh. Kro my hearrrtttt.

Oh I love the they care for each other. This is so soft and so sweet and fjejwuaujqs. God Alpha just needed to make sure Zephyr is taken care of, that they can have pleasure without paying for it later.

This is so important to meeee.

Thank you for this ♡♡♡♡

[iamthecomet]

Hi Comet! I’m sorry things are not thinging, I’m sending you hugs and trying very hard to manifest some good snacks.

Imagine if you will,

Zeph with very angry swollen joints. His thumb is practically locked in place, as though the cartilage cushioning his bones has dissolved and his fingers are fused in the 36251 progression position.

He doesn’t play nearly as much as he used to. Only Sundays, forgoing the weekday morning and evening mass. He isn’t that pious. But the weak heat being pumped into that old building seems to be desperate to escape the cracks in the vaulted ceiling as soon as it’s released.

Ever the stoic ghoul, he never complains. He just retreats to his quarters and soaks his aching hands in hot water, massages salves made by Ivy into his skin.

He thinks no one notices. But his pack would notice a single hair on his head out of place, and they certainly notice the way his spine favors leaning to the left when he plays, and the way his hand shakes when he grips his fork at dinner.

This particular Sunday was the coldest yet. He could be seen shivering in between psalms. And most shocking, his timing was off. Maybe not to the pedestrian ear of the siblings, but certainly to the trained ones of Ifrit and Omega.

As soon as his part in the service was complete he snuck away through the concealed door normally reserved for Sister and Papa.

He would’ve ran to his room, if he was capable of more than anything but a lopsided hobble.

He told himself he wasn’t going to break but as soon as he closed the door, ever so softly as if he didn’t even want to alert the mice to his presence, he slumped against it and the dam broke.

They were right. He just needed to stop. Or at least he would, if he continued to politely balk at the help offered.

Before his body could touch the ground, he found himself being lifted back up by two sets of strong arms. Arms belonging to Ifrit and Omega.

“Oh, I’m fine - “ the countenance of bravery was essentially transparent and he was hushed with a single finger to his lips.

“Not now, we can talk later. Let us take care of you.”

He wasn’t sure if it was defeat or surrender, but he just let them.

Let Ifrit force warmth into his body, let Omega pull the pain away, offering soft grunts of concern at the sheer amount of it. Omega himself would need to be cleansed after this.

As they continued their ministrations, he felt some mobility return to his hands, he was able to straighter his spine where he lay in the warm cove of Ifrit’s chest.

He gave his fingers an exploratory wiggle, and if he were sobbing from pain before, now he was sobbing from relief. He forgot what the absence of pain felt like, had become the default.

“Thank you,” two small words that meant something big when it came to Zephyr, at least when it came to this. This acknowledgment that he needed their help. He needed them.

“Think nothing of it, until next time, when you need not wait until we all have to watch you suffer, and force ourselves on you.” Omega’s lecture sounded severe, but he lighted the mood when he gave Zeph a peck on the cheek. For good measure, Ifrit added, “Yeah, you stubborn old goat.”

Oh my god. OH MOTH. On this is THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS WITH ME. It's beautiful and so soft and so sweet and I love them all so much. No matter what, they have him, they'll catch him, they'll help him. Even when he's too stubborn to ask--especially then. This is perfection and exactly what I needed. ♥

[bloodysyren]

I need sweet Ghouls. I need forehead kisses and hand kisses. Lips pressed worshipfully to knuckles and romantic knee kisses as someone is languidly undressed.

I need shy lips meeting with a hint of fang, forehead presses as they hold each other’s necks. Delicate murmurs and whispered promises to never part.