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CALL IN SICK

Soft!Task Force 141 x Reader  

A/N: This is my first fanfic and the characters might be too OOC. I hope is good.  

ALSO: I sprinkled some praise ;3  

Word Count: 3.2k  

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After a mission gone wrong in an undisclosed location Task Force 141 is forced to stay in a safe house, a cabin, in the middle of a dense forest and high between the mountains. It is no task for the team but unfortunately for you. You were injured.  

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Ghost and you were paired together on this mission. It was supposed to be a “quick in and out” mission but as you were following behind Ghost; and heard him say something on the radio. You could not hear what he said. Your radio had been broken by getting hit by the butt of a gun but nothing you couldn’t handle you took care of it no problem. As both of you entered the room, the door suddenly slammed behind you and the lights were shut off leaving you on a disadvantage you were surrounded by armed men and Ghost was the first one to react, shooting with precise accuracy men started to fall left and right. Using the flashing lights, movement, and your hearing, you followed in suit shooting with Ghost, you were already pulling the trigger before you can properly aim, and the room quickly became deathly still, before you could even get out a sigh of relief it came out as a gasp of pain. You were attacked from behind because you felt it before you saw it. With his aim, Ghost’s shot went straight through the head. "Bullseye!" You called out watching the body slumped near your feet. You gasped at the shock at how much effort you needed to speak. Looking down at your hand pressing on the side of your torso seeing how both your shirt and hand start turning into a deep red. Ghost is on you, lifting your shirt enough just to see how bad your wound is. "I'll live. Been through worse," you say nonchalantly trying not to make it sound like a big deal. "Captain, Scorpion has been stabbed and her wound is not life-threatening but needs medical attention." A line of 'what's' responded to Ghost. "Repeat that again Ghost." Soap said. "Scorpion has been stabbed but she won't die" Repeated Ghost. "I won't die but Holy Jesus! It hurts like a motherfu--"you groaned out and getting cut off by Price announcing, "Everyone regroup on the Eastside of the church." Ghost motioned towards you moving to wrap your left arm around his shoulders and with his sheer size you are lifted enough for you to start to tiptoe when walking. Flinching and wincing every few steps, you start leaning most of your body weight onto Ghost. "Atta girl almost there, we just need to cross the hallway, so we can patch you up." Ghost said with a hint of concern. You would tease him about it if the doors adjacent to the hallway toward the church hadn’t busted open to show a very panicked Soap. "They're here!" Soap yelled back to the team, took your right arm, wrapped it around his shoulders, and put pressure on your wound, causing you to hiss out, "I thought you could handle it." Soap teased. "Shut it." You remarked back. Now with the height difference, they are basically dragging you down the aisle toward Gaz and Price. They laid you down on the floor. "I thought it wasn't going to be this bad," Gaz gasped after looking at your gash, blood was still spilling at an alarming rate "This needs medical attention, and we need to return to the medic-bay." "About that..." Price uttered, catching the attention of everyone "Our exfil can't be processed due to our location and weather." “What the hell! What do you mean by that!” Soap shouted. “Have you seen the weather outside? It is a blizzard out there!” Price countered, pointing out through a broken stained glass. A voice was heard on Price’s radio, “Price, this is Laswell we have noticed movement towards your location. Estimation around 50-100 men. Unless you want your team to perish, I say you start moving toward the safe house up north-west from the graveyard.” “Copy that Laswell. Gaz try your best to stabilize Scorpion so we can all move out. I know that you are more than capable of neutralizing the enemy, but I don’t want another injury if we don’t have a fast form of transportation out of these mountains.”  

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No matter how much you get them you’ll never get used to the feeling of someone stitching you up with no anesthesia still sends a shiver down your spine. You were grunting as Gaz tried to make the process less painful and fast as possible. Lifting your uniform enough to have your midriff exposed so he could wrap the medical gauze around your body. “Come on. Up you go!” Soap grunted as he pulled you up onto your feet. “Careful with her if not I'll do you worst than what she has!” Ghost grunts out before turning back to you “Are you okay?” he asked in a hushed whisper. “I’m okay. We need to move out before the weather gets worse,” you replied. “Can you walk without support?” asked Gaz with outstretched arms as if you were to fall without notice. “I think I can manage.” you breathe out walking with a limp “Yeah...yeah, I think I can manage. Price how long is the walk," you questioned. “Walking? Oh, Sweetheart from here to the safe house it's going to be a hike.” Price chuckled, removing his gaze from the stained glass, and turned to face you. “If you can’t handle it, I can always carry you like a princess and I’ll be your prince in shining armor.” Soap teased with a wink. Chuckling to yourself, you playfully punch his shoulder as a form of saying you’re going to be okay, and you were going to stick to yourself, and you start following behind Ghost and out the door walking through the graveyard with unmarked tombs.   

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“Facken Hell” Soap grunted, he was the first one to complain about the freezing weather as you and the team struggled to push through the almost knee-high snow. Ghost was at least kind enough to go in front of you unintentionally making a small path and making it a bit easier for you to walk. You have never been more grateful about his size more than today (not that you’ll ever admit it) and even with his help you still staggered behind. You haven't even started walking for 30 minutes and you felt like you just ran a marathon. You tried to even out your breathing thinking that you might be overreacting. You started giving yourself little motivation so you could keep up with the team. That was before your side felt like it was on fire, your body slowly started to get warm, and you started to slow down into a stop.  Gaz noticed that you had stopped walking and turned back to you. “Are you doing alright?” he asked, slowing his pace to stand next to you. “As much as I want to say I’m fine. I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded” you replied with gasps in between, holding your head with a hand on your forehead. You wanted to start walking again but your whole body seemed like it was underwater even though Gaz was next to you his voice started to sound muffled and far away. You decided that you wanted to push more, and you didn’t check your stepping and your foot slipped on a rock causing you to lose your balance. You were not able to stop yourself from both cushioning the fall and tumbling down a steep trench that you hadn't noticed until now and you landed face down and you swear you felt like someone has pressed a branding iron on your wound. You used the last bit of energy to roll yourself over onto your back staring up at the soft pearl clouds blanketing the whole sky, the subtle flickering of the snow glistening as they twisted and turned with their slow grace down to earth. It was a peaceful sight other than the blinding pain your body had to currently endure. Your vision was fighting to stay awake slowly blinking as 4 dark figures were running down the hill towards you, a stark contrast on the untouched snow. Price was the first one in your line of vision holding your head and through your blurred vision you see his mouth moving but you can’t hear anything other than the ringing in your ears. You try to focus your eyes on him, trying to understand what he is shouting to the rest of your team then your eyes started straining signifying that you were slowly losing your fight on staying conscious, letting your head loose, it tilted away from Price as you closed your eyes for a well-deserved break into the darkness.   

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A pounding in your head disrupted your sleep causing you to groan softly against a mattress. You slowly stretch yourself enough to feel the rough texture of the mattress grinding on your soft skin. You were relishing a few seconds to yourself before a cry broke out from your lips causing you to sit up quickly and your hands flying to the side of your torso.  As you were cradling your wound, a pair of hands were suddenly pushing you down by your shoulders. By instinct you tried to look for a way to defend yourself, that was until the hands on your shoulders managed to push you into the mattress, a soft shushing caught your attention. “Hey! Take it easy. Look at me. Breathe. It’s just me, Soap.’’ You relaxed on the mattress and looked around at your surroundings. It seems that the team had settled down into an abandoned cabin that consisted of a fireplace that was still covered in dust, probably not used in years and especially not now. You guessed because the smoke might give your location away if you were to build a fire. The lack of light caused you to try and look outside through the snow and frosted-covered glass plane, but it was still enough to confirm that it was dark outside. “What happened? It was barely noon last time I remember,” you asked absentminded. “Well... We heard that you started to slow down, and Gaz went to check on you and he did nothing to stop you from falling off the cliff.” Soap explained, raising his voice towards the end. “Hey! It just happened too fast and-” Before he could finish Soap hit him on the head and he sat down next to him leaving you alone and he started continuing what he was saying “You took a nasty fall and hit your head and you seemed out of it. Nothing big though, you’re just going to have to deal with a migraine for a while and you managed to rip your stitches apart. Gaz was able to secure them again, but you were out like a light. Ghost piggybacked you all the way over here!” he laughed.   

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You nodded slowly, seemingly lost in your mind. “She seems dazed, guess that fall took a lot more than we thought” Price noted watching as you weakly started to stand and slowly made your way to where Gaz and Soap were sitting and plopped down next to them.  Groaning out softly you curiously looked at your puff of condensed air. They all watched in silence as you giggled like a little girl then a shiver rolled down your spine you then did the unthinkable, since Soap was the nearest to you sat and curled up between Soap’s legs and cuddled your head into his shoulder. It seemed that the whole room froze towards your actions. You aren’t usually like this with your tough demeanor, you usually never asked for help, and even on the rare times you do ask for help you’ll be embarrassed and cuss them out as if the problem was somehow caused by them, and it was (at least to the team) weird to see you open to your actions.  You felt him tense up against you raising his hands as if he was being held at gunpoint, he was about to push you away until he hears you softly whine something he wasn’t going to hear if you weren’t so close. “Gosh, you’re so warm it's so cold in here.” You pulled up your hands to your mouth and let little puffs into them and rubbed them together.  You’re slowly settling down to rest again until Ghost’s voice broke the silence “You haven’t eaten all day. You need to eat something before sleeping again without food you won't heal as fast.’ You turned to face him as he sat silently in a dark corner and slightly opened one of your eyes and sheepishly shook your head saying no. “Jesus Christ you’re burning up there, lass, aren't you?” His hand suddenly came to rest on your forehead and Price gently rubbed the back of his hand onto your cheek muttering more to himself, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear “She’s running a fever.”  “Here make her drink a lot of water.” Ghost urges holding out a bottled water; Price takes the bottle from him and extends it to you. You once again shake your head. “Don’t you back away. Come on. It's just water.” ”Don't wanna” you replied. “Would you drink if I help you?” You said nothing this time. Price takes your silence as a yes. Confused, he carefully tested the waters by slowly tilting the bottled water to your lips allowing you to take small sips. After you finished half of the bottle he praises “That’s my girl.” He closes the bottle, places it on the floor, leans back, and sits silently.  After a few minutes, everyone continued to settle down, especially Soap since he was busy embracing and enjoying your warmth then one by one started noticing that your breathing came out as deep breaths. Gaz suddenly perks up and says, “She still has to eat too” Once again all their attention was now on you. Everyone stares at Soap and expects him to do something “What? Do you really think I’m going to wake her up just for her to eat?” he said defensively, subconsciously pulling you tighter into his chest and embrace.  

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“You know we have to.” Ghost sighs. “Not even 5 more minutes.” Soap said while shying away from the harsh stares of the team. Ghost forces Soap’s arms away from your body slowly and gently shaking your shoulder to wake up. You stirred from your short-lived slumber and looked up at him confused. He crouched down to your eye level and whispered “Luv, you must eat something before going back to bed.” “But I’m going to get cold though.” “Here you can have my blanket.” Price immediately covers you in the soft material that seemingly had his scent covered all over the blanket. He gently started pulling you away from Soap which had begrudgingly agreed to let you go. Price starts getting an MRE out of his backpack opens it up for you and puts it in your hands.  Your head jolted back in disgust upon seeing and smelling the MRE, and you pushed it back to Price “Eww I don’t want to eat that it looks horrible,” you replied with a huff and tried to cross your arms over your chest before Price forces them down once more and he responded, “Come on, sweetheart you know you have to eat at least something”. “Do you have anything that tastes better than that?’” you pleaded. “I think I might have something you like!” Gaz exclaims while reaching into his backpack looking for something and he pulls out a Chocolate bar. Your eyes sparkled when your eyes landed on the candy. You moved to the outstretched hand with the candy, your hand was barely closing on the sugary goodness before it was snatched away by Price. You softly gasp and shockingly look at Price, your eyes begging for an answer. He just smirks and holds the bar next to his face and simply tells “I promise to give it to you once you have finished your food.’’ “Promise?” “I promise in fact I’ll help you” Price said as he continues to sit directly in front of you, place the chocolate bar next to him and scooped a spoonful out of the MRE and holding it a mere inches away from your mouth. “Don’t be shy, open up”. You became rigid as you noticed that you are in the middle of attention, and you knew that Price is stubborn enough not to have it your way and as you open your mouth to eat what was on the spoon a small involuntary ‘ah∼’ squeaked from you. You looked down embarrassedly and chewed slowly. You could hear the stifled laughs from everyone as your face turns bright pink. Price once again hold out a spoonful toward you and shook your head in denial. Price once again holds up the chocolate bar and teasingly said “Come on, Princess if you want this you must finish.” You closed your eyes, swallowed your pride, and ate more. The whole process went on in a somewhat comfortable silence. You got used to the routine so much that you started to nod off bit by bit until Price startled you when he shoved the chocolate into your hands and softly muttered “You did such a good job, Princess.”   

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You stared happily at the chocolate on your hands and before you could open it, you sneezed and broke into a coughing fit. You tried to huddle yourself tighter into the blanket, but it didn’t stop you from shaking like a leaf. A small commotion broke out but once your coughing fit calmed down you realize that you have been picked up and carried by someone you only noticed once you suddenly felt a wave of warmth spread through your body that you, in fact, are laying on top of Ghost. Once you settled down in that conclusion you tried to scramble away from him, before he held you down by hugging you and squeezing you closer to him. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing his protective gear, you felt some but not all of it under his hoodie that you didn’t notice that he was wearing because he was sitting in the dark up until now. Your head was placed directly on top of Ghost’s chest, and you can hear his heartbeat quicken just a little. The rhythm of his heart and the warmth of his body slowly coaxed you closer to a deep slumber. Your eyes fought to stay awake until a heavy hand slowly petted your head and dragged down your back. You slowly relaxed into his strong embrace and unconsciously rubbed your nose into his chest until you found a comfortable place for your head to rest.  Unknowing to you Price, Gaz, and especially Soap gave Ghost the most hateful stare they could muster but Ghost simply shrugged as he continued to comb his fingers through your hair.   

Silently wishing that the night would last forever just to have you in his arms. 

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Papa(i cant decide what number 1-4) : angry at his lover, because she avoids him..

Reader in her bedroom: p-please love...kill me i have a fever

https://themidult.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/painting-woman-ill-sick-fluey-unwell2-800x500.jpg

(sorry for the link im too shy to send this ask as me, but i think its kinda funny)

ghosting | papa x gn!reader

I could not decide on a Papa either, so I kept it as neutral as possible and (I hope) you can all imagine the Papa of your choice :) and anon, you need not be shy, I am so grateful for your ask <3 (and pls let me know who you are, so I can thank you in virtual kisses)

summary: your papa thinks you're avoiding him but once he finally finds you, he realises that he got it all wrong.

content: 2.5k words, sick care, some suggestive remarks, fluff mostly

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Papa scoffs into his afternoon coffee, nearly spilling the hot liquid all over his papal robes. Still nothing. He’s staring at his phone, the screen cracked from when it slipped out of his pocket while he fucked you on his desk two days ago. And yet he can clearly make out the two blue hooks indicating that you’ve read his message from this morning.

What he also sees is that there is still no reply. Your silence, your absence, the uncertainty – it drives him mad. He is so used to having your undivided attention, seeing your name pop up on his screen with a frequency that keeps him from getting any work done as of late. Not your name, though, no. He saved you under “amore mio” a long time ago. Not that you’re aware of it just yet, but his feelings for you have long since surpassed mere lust and friendliness.

His mind constantly wanders to you. Knowing your schedule by heart, it is easy to imagine what you’re doing, what may have you so distracted. Right now, you should be helping in the gardens, sweaty and panting from the exertions in the warm afternoon sun. He knows how pretty you look like that, even more so when you’re sprawled out underneath him as he gets lost in the soft curves of your body. He yearns to lick the salty sweat off your heaving chest, to hear your whimpers as his lips leave not a single inch of your skin untouched.

Alas, he is stuck in his office, brooding over paperwork.

He’s trying hard to concentrate on the words in front of him, not to stare at his screen all day like a depraved, starving man. Impatient, he even set the phone to vibrate but despite knowing he’d get a notification if you texted him, he taps the screen every two minutes to check. Just to make sure he doesn’t miss it. 

Oh how he’s longing for even the most delicate touch, a simple kiss on his cheek as you tell him to take it easy today, your hand squeezing his across the table. You used to do that, visit him in his office at least two times a day. Not always innocent. Actually, very rarely innocent. He can almost hear the echo of you screaming his name for half the abbey to hear. And yet, you have not been anywhere near these four desecrated walls in almost two days. Not since the last time you were intimate with him.

Why won’t you reply? A flash of doubt and a pang of anger. Could you be getting tired of him? Did he come on too strong? If that were the case, you should tell him. He’s a busy man, you of all people know that, and yet here you are practically ghosting him, as the younger Siblings call it. By now it’s almost dinner time, you must have had a chance to at least type in a yes or no. Papa knows if he can’t see you tonight he is going to lose his mind. He needs the confirmation or he’ll be nervous and distracted for the rest of his day.

Generous as he is, Papa gives you another hour, finishing up the dreadful paperwork before he has a quick dinner of reheated pasta from the day prior. It tastes like nothing to him and the emptiness of his quarters only adds to his foul mood. His eyes are still trained on his phone, the battery still half full, unused with the lack of texting. The only time his screen lights up this evening it’s to remind him that his screen time has gone up by eighty percent over the past week. It seems like that’s an issue you’re solving for him right now.

Papa knows he cannot go another night without seeing you. He needs to confront you, ask if you really lost interest or if you just need more space. Whatever it is, having clarity will be easier to bear than silence.

Entering the dorms is always risky business. People gossip, someone is going to see where he’s knocking, and while everyone knows the two of you are… something, he’s not keen on everyone speculating about why you’re suddenly on cooldown.

But when he knocks, nothing happens. He repeats the motion, rapping his knuckles against the wood three times, louder now. Nothing. He hears music, some sort of electronic beats, the tunes wafting over from another dorm room. A party, surely. Yours however remains eerily quiet. In a last attempt to find out if you’re even home, he tries the door.

It is unlocked, so you must be home. For a moment he considers leaving again but then a painful thought hits him: If you’re home, not opening up… it means you’re avoiding him. Clearly. 

What crime did he commit to deserve your ignorance? His anger propels him to enter, despite knowing he’s invading your privacy. But he cannot go back to his quarters without confronting you, not when he’s already in such pain. He’s feeling the anticipatory grief over losing you and it’s all because he let his guard down way too fast, leaning into your kindness, your loving nature. He always had a feeling that this was too good to be true, that despite thinking this time would be different, he’d end up in pain. Everyone just wants the sex, the fun, not the commitment that being with a Papa, maybe even loving a Papa, meant.

Fiddling with the doorknob, he feels awful for even thinking these things. You never gave him reason to doubt you, but it is just so easy to slip back into his old insecurities. Certain that he’s just seeing ghosts, Papa pushes the door open silently.

Upon entering the small antechamber that leads to your bedroom, he hears you moaning. He hears the rustling of sheets, the mattress creaking. A loud fuck.

Papa stops dead in his tracks, nearly toppling over as a wave of nausea hits him. For a second, his worst fears and his deepest insecurities melt into one big gooey ball of panic. He wants to be sure that what you have is special, but you never openly decided to be exclusive, that you wouldn’t see other people. He’s been meaning to ask, to tell you how he feels… too late, it seems.

But no. He soldiers on. If anyone else dares to touch you, they will receive all of his demonic, unholy wrath. He has a whole company of ghouls who would love to get a taste of human flesh again, if need be. Papa opens the door to your bedroom, anxious but driven, ready to face whatever lies behind. And he does find you in bed like he expected, only… you’re alone.

You don’t even look up. Are you sleeping? The room is stuffy, curtains closed and all he hears is your whimpering.

“Hello?” he asks quietly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“P-papa?” 

Your voice is barely audible. His anger turns into concern as he hurries to your side, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Immediately you reach for his hand in an attempt to squeeze, but it seems like you’re too weak to clench your muscles.

“Kill me, Papa. Release me from this torment,” you whine. “Please.”

“Tesoro, what is going on?”

You groan in reply, a sound only made more horrifying by the soreness of your throat. You sound like a dying animal and if he’s honest, you kind of smell like one too. He wonders how long you’ve been in this position.

“I am dying,” you whisper.

“What happened? Are you injured?”

He’s scanning your body but most of it is covered. Before he can pull away the duvet, you try to squeeze his hand yet again, this time with more vigor.

“S-sick,” you choke out. “The flu.”

“The flu?”

Papa ignores the bad conscience that’s settling in his mind and gives into his worry. He jumps up, opening the curtains and the window to let in some fresh air. You hiss like you’ve been burned, despite the sun already setting. Disregarding your complaints, Papa finds a thermometer and pain killers on your bedside table.

“We need to check if you have a fever, tesorino, can you open your pretty mouth for me?”

You giggle at his words. “I’m too sick for that, Papa.”

“You clearly have a fever if you think I’m going to laugh about this right now,” he states, removing his gloves and throwing them aside. His scowl is not in earnest, he’s not annoyed, of course, but he needs you to know your health is paramount.

“You’re so dramatic,” you whisper but you let him slot the thermometer between your lips anyway.

“I am dramatic? Who’s been locked inside their room like they have the plague without replying to my texts?” 

Papa presses the backs of his hands to your hot cheeks, acting like a mom who doesn’t trust the thermometer. You’re burning up, worrying him even more. Your skin is ashen, hair tousled, and he can see you shaking slightly.

At his words, your brow furrows. “I texted back,” you say, words muffled by the device in your mouth.

“You did not, amore. I have been wondering what I did to upset you so,” Papa admits. “I thought you were avoiding me. Ghosting me, as they say.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and as soon as Papa pulls out the thermometer, forehead scrunching up as he reads the 38.9°C, you start babbling.

“I was not, Papa. I would never. I was so sad I could not see you.” You swallow, groaning as the pain in your scratchy throat hits you. “Can you check my phone? I dropped it.”

Papa finds it under your bed. He lets you unlock it and you’re right, you did reply, only you never hit sent. I am sick in bed, Papa. I miss you too, but I would not want you to catch the flu. ♥︎

“I would never avoid you on you purpose,” you whisper, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

He bends down to kiss your feverish forehead, feeling the heat against his lips. “I know that now, amore, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I ever thought such a thing.”

“Amore?” you ask, grinning through a thick layer of haze. “That’s new, Papa.”

He can practically feel his cheeks turning rosy under his paint. “You know I like you, gioia mia, that is not new.”

“But amore is not just liking, right? It’s–”

“You have a fever, dolce. I need you to take the ibuprofen. Where do you keep your glasses?”

You pout at his interruption and with one last look at your puckered lips, he jumps up, avoiding not only your question but also the intense urge to kiss you. You’re in no condition to have a deep conversation right now. He searches the cupboards in your tiny kitchenette until he finds a glass he can fill with water. By the looks of it, you have not eaten all day, it’s far too clean.

“I don’t know if I can swallow,” you whine upon his return.

“We both know you’re very good at swallowing, amore. Open up.”

You frown without any real intensity and it’s an adorable sight, even in your messy, unkempt state. “I thought we weren’t joking about this.”

“It is allowed when I do it,” Papa says, practically shoving the pill into your mouth. “Drink, amore. You need liquids.”

You manage to swallow and the water feels like honey but only for a moment before the pain returns and your throat protests wildly. Even so, your mind still clings to his words.

“Papa,” you whine, reaching for his hand as soon as he’s set down the glass.

His mismatched eyes flicker to yours, still worried. “Yes?”

“You never answered.”

“We should talk about this tomorrow, sì? When you feel better.” At your sad expression he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “I will go find some soup for you now, some other medication.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“I will come back, dolce, you don’t make that pretty head worry too much, eh?” 

You whimper dramatically. “But what if I am dead by then?”

Papa sighs but it’s followed by deep chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “You win, amore, I will text one of the ghouls.”

As soon as the text is sent, Papa closes the window again and starts to undress. From your position on the bed you’re watching him like a hawk, pulling a fuzzy blanket over your mouth to hide your grin. He can’t help but find it endearing and suddenly he feels even worse for assuming the worst today. Once he’s in his briefs and undershirt, he crawls into bed behind you, pulling you close. You’re a little sweaty, not exactly smelling fresh, but he doesn’t mind. Feeling your warmth, having you tucked against him, it’s all he really needs. 

And as his heart does a flip, racing thanks to your proximity, he gently cups your cheek. “Do you think you can give me a kiss, amore?”

“But you’ll get sick,” you whisper, the protest dying as soon as he tilts your chin up.

His lips graze yours, softly pressing in more and more until you melt against him. Even your lips are warmer than usual and he keeps it chaste, breaking away to look into your eyes again.

“Papas don’t get sick, eh?” He gives a tender kiss to your forehead, gently running his fingers through your hair before they settle on your back. “Now, you wanted an answer.”

Your look is pleading and it’s like your shining eyes are trying to lure the words right out of him. He wonders how he ever worried you may not feel the same when it’s written all over your face. His nerves start showing then, fidgety fingers drawing tiny patterns on your back, and he can feel your hands pressing into his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you,” he finally says. “You are my amore, my love. Tieni il mio cuore in mano. Please, I want to ask you to be mine.”

“I love you, too.” A big grin spreads out on your face. You lean in to kiss him again, softly moving your lips against his, and you stay impossibly close as you whisper. “And I am yours, forever, if you are mine.”

Papa smiles against your mouth and for a moment he forgets that you’re sick and kisses you harder. When he breaks away, you’re breathless, coughing softly, but he can tell by the happy look on your face that it was worth it.

“I am yours, amore,” he says. “I am yours forever, if Satan allows me.”

You settle against his solid chest, warm cheek pressed to the skin just above the neckline of his shirt. After today, your Papa vows to take better care of you, to trust you fully and cast any doubts aside as soon as they arise. And so he wraps his arms around you even tighter, whispering soft praises  into your hair until you’re finally asleep again, the only sound in the room your soft and even breathing.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

non vedo l’ora di baciarti – I can’t wait to kiss you

tieni il mio cuore in mano – you hold my heart in your hand

Humbly requesting more Omega Ghoul. He is my boy, I love him <3

Also btw love ur art style! Have a great day!

Watch out, hes onto you

A big pillow

Cryptid Biology 9: Trust

[Dew communicates his feelings... as best as a little imp can.] Below the cut.

Dew isn't sure what's going on anymore.

The ghouls are talking around him, a constant back and forth of sounds he doesn't understand.

Sometimes, one of them will lower themselves to his level, talk at him, and he'll recoil, pressing further into the corner of the plastic tub they've set him down in.

The walls too tall and smooth for his little nails to catch and climb out, so he's stuck.

He'd spent a long while hiding under his sweatshirt, the one he'd been wearing when he turned into... whatever he was now.

Rain had stuffed it in there along with his sweat pants and a couple other soft, familiar smelling things, and that had helped him relax.

At least he's comfortable.

He peers up at the aforementioned ghoul.

He hasn't taken his eyes off of him since they set him down inside the container, he looks at Rain's hand dangling over the lip of it, hanging down low enough so that Dew can scratch the top of his head and along his spine with it if he wants to.

And he does.

Rain wiggles his fingers a bit, helping him reach the itchy spots he can't get with his back feet.

Dew purrs as Rain pets him.

This... this is nice.

Dew could live like this.

His head feels delightfully empty.

If he'd known he could do this, he would have done it ages ago and lived out the rest of his life as a whatever he is.

Simpler than being a human or a ghoul.

Actually, that makes him wonder...

Why hadn't he been able to do this before?

Why now?

Is it because of them?

He looks at the other ghouls, distorted by the cloudy, semi-opaque prison he's in.

He chirps, lightly bumping Rain's hand away, climbing over to his sweatshirt and making one, two, three small circles.

He settles into a little loaf, sighing contentedly, tail tapping against the plastic rhythmically as he lays his head over his small, overlapped paws.

"Dew?"

Dew lifts his head, locking eyes with Aether.

He can understand his name at least.

Dew watches Aether's mouth move, unable to make sense of the noise coming from it.

He lowers his head again.

There's a sigh.

Probably Aether realizing talking to him like this will get him nowhere.

Dew responds to it with a full body shaking yawn.

Being small is... surprisingly exhausting.

He feels the container move, but he's barely aware of it as he tucks into himself, he needs a nap.

When Dew next wakes, he's being held.

He's not really sure who it is that's holding him, but their hands are large, bigger than Rain's, but thinner than Aether's, and a bit too soft to be Swiss'.

He sniffs curiously.

He smells dirt.

Why does he smell dirt??

DID THEY THINK HE DIED AND TRY TO BURY HIM??

Dew's eyes fly open.

Yipping when he notices he's currently being held in the muddy palms of-

"Hey there."

It's Mountain!

Dew doesn't know why, but this... this comes as relief to him.

Better the earth ghoul than an early grave he supposes.

Mountain may be big, but he's a gentle giant, and his hands aren't constricting him like Swiss' had been before.

He keeps an open palm, letting Dew move freely, so long as he doesn't make to jump from his hands.

He's good with animals after all.

Dew wiggles at him, unable to wave.

He tries, but reaching out his front paw sets him off balance, and he almost tumbles out of his hands.

"Yes, yes, hello..." Mountain coos, "...You've had a long... a long life from the sounds of it, but it's been a long day, hasn't it?"

Dew tilts his head at him.

Why can he understand Mountain?

Does he speak... whatever the fuck?

Of course Mountain would.

That's probably why he's here.

"I want you to know, you're safe here." he says, keeping his voice soft and low, "You're safe here."

Dew croaks at him warily.

Safe?

Everything around him feels like a threat right now if Dew's completely honest.

And, and...

He's... He's so small.

How could he possibly feel safe when the world is so big?

Even on the inside, he feels...

He feels like he's still shrinking down.

Getting smaller and smaller.

He kind of hopes whatever little speck of him is leftover when all is said and done just snaps from existence so he doesn't have to think about...

Think about what exactly?

He...

He isn't sure.

What had him so worked up again?

He tries to get his head on straight, but he can't.

He feels like he's outside of his body and... maybe he is?

He worms his way to the edge of Mountain's palm.

"I need you to trust me, and let me change you back."

Change him back?

No!

Dew hisses.

He doesn't want to go back!

"Dew... you can't live like this." Mountain states somberly, "You... you just can't."

He can!

He can make this work!

Somehow...

"...I know you're scared. This has all been very weird, hasn't it?"

Dew croaks, looking down at the floor.

It's... It's a long way down.

It might hurt if he jumps down now.

"If you put your faith in me now, I can promise I'll stand by you, help you tell the others how you feel if it's hard for you to do, but this... Dew, this isn't the answer to your problems." Mountain says, "Shutting out the world won't make you feel better."

"It'll make it worse."

Dew whimpers, forcing his mouth to form the only word he can think to say...

"...sss...S...cc...areddd..."

"Sc... ared."

"Scared."

"Scared."

His little eyes water and he tries to hide his face behind his paws, but he can't.

Small as he is now, Mountain can see all of him.

And when a sudden warm drop of water hits his back.

Dew realizes, he understands.

Because Mountain is crying, too.

Big ol' softie.

Dew shakes off the moisture and chirps at Mountain, nuzzling the pad of his thumb, trying to comfort him.

Dew's in such a weird position, but, but he...

He still can't stand seeing one of his friends upset.

Even on his own behalf.

"Will you trust me?" Mountain asks, and...

And how can Dew say no to those big sad eyes??

He chirps at him.

.

.

.

.

"Maybe we should wait to turn him back."

Dew blinks at Aether.

Having been returned to the kitchen by Mountain, the other ghouls had sat down to discuss the matter of turning him back, and, focusing very, very, very hard, Dew had been able to... ehhh... vaguely understand the mechanics of it, understand them at least.

"Probably a good idea." Swiss says, "If he was just starting his heat for the first time, him turning into an imp for a couple days is probably the safest option, since he won't experience it in that form."

He won't?

Come to think of it, his little... uhh... leaking problem had gone away as soon as he shifted forms.

Good.

Great even.

If he can just do this the next time that ha-

The next time.

This... this could, no, this would happen again.

Dew lets out a miserable little burble and buries his face in his paws.

"Aw, Dew, it's..." Rain cuts himself off again, shaking his head, "...It's not okay, and, we need to talk about it."

Dew grumbles at him.

"Hey, at least he can't deny he's a ghoul anymore." Swiss shrugs, "I get that he's freaked about it, especially after all this time, but living in denial about things... Like, I know he's not happy he doesn't know what's happening, but, like, Dew, man..."

He gets down on Dew's level, "You have to admit, if you were even a little bit more open to the idea... we could have talked to you."

"No, Swiss, we should have talked to him about it regardless." Mountain corrects, "This... this isn't all on him. We assumed a lot, and pushed hard thinking we were right and that Dew was just... being silly! But..."

"I agree." Cirrus interjects, "But Swiss... Swiss isn't wrong either exactly."

"We all failed to communicate properly." she says, "And it forced a reaction, which, while it does prove our theory... it was wrong to back Dew into a corner like this."

The ghouls argue back and forth.

Trying to shift blame.

Dew tries to cover his ears.

It's embarrassing being talked about like this, especially when he can't defend himself.

"Scared."

The room goes quiet.

"Scared."

Aether tries to comfort him, but the shadow of his hand makes Dew flinch.

"Sca...ry."

"Scary."

The only words Dew can seem to utter are ones of fear.

Of distrust.

"Why?" Rain asks, "Why 'scary'?"

Dew... isn't sure why.

He just is.

Something about the ghouls.

No, something about BEING a ghoul is absolutely terrifying to him.

And he can't place why.

"I brought my tablet!" Sunshine calls from the doorway, interrupting the oppressive silence, "Imp paws work on touch screens, right?"

Imp?

Oh.

Oh is that what he is?

"Should work." Cumulus says, taking the tablet and setting it down in front of Dew, "Thanks, Sunny. Okay..."

Dew stares at the screen.

"Just tap the pictures and tell us how you feel, can you do that?"

Of course Dew can do that!

Dew baps the screen with his paw.

"Fuck you."

"SUNNY!"

"Hehe, sorry, sorry, I figured he might want to vent his frustrations a little..."

Dew slaps the screen a few more times over that one before he decides to get serious.

Rain leans over the table, "Okay, Dew... why scary?"

Dew looks at the pictures available to him, swiping at the screen to find the right words.

"No. Choice. Scary."

"It's scary... because you didn't get to decide?" he tries, and Dew bobs his head at him.

"No. Choice. Scary." he looks through the pictures, "Make. Small. Small. No. Like."

"You don't like feeling small?" Swiss questions, "Elaborate?"

"No. Like. Small. Feel. Like. Lie. Lie. Lie."

"Lie?"

Dew stares at the screen.

"Dew?"

"Like. Lie. Life. Lie." he baps the screen one more time before curling into himself again, "Silly."

"You feel... silly... because you didn't know?"

Dew chirps.

"But we all... we all did? Because we thought we knew?"

Chirp.

"And that made you feel... small."

Dew lifts his head, staring up at his friends.

"We made you feel small... so you made yourself small?" Aether asks.

When you put it that way...

Dew bats at the screen.

A steady rhythm of "Fuck you".

Worry Me, Worry You

[Dew is sick Swiss has some feelings about it. Contains discussion of being sick both in the sense of being unwell as well as in the physical sense. A fair bit of angst with a mild resolution at the end.] Below the cut.

When Dew gets sick, It starts with a weakness in his fingers, an inability to grip things in his hand without it feeling... off.

His muscles and joints feel loose and wrong, so he clenches his fists tighter, strains and tires himself without realizing until he can't manage simple tasks anymore.

His hands shake, and his sight goes to static at the edges, save for a strange, drifting clear spot in his vision, that has a filminess to it like a soap bubble without the rainbow sheen.

The pain doesn't set in right away, but the inability to focus his vision, combined by the sudden loss of his fine motor tells him it's only a matter of time before it does.

So when his hand refuses to close around the pen he's been using to scribble down notes with, he knows something's wrong... and he needs to deal with it before someone sees him.

Dew wets his lips, grateful to have caught things in the early stages, before his stomach has a chance to turn, before he feels that familiar numbness in the back of his throat...

He drops the pen onto the desk and closes his eyes, trying to strategize how exactly he's going to make it from his desk to his on suite bathroom without jostling himself too much.

He only needs to make it ten feet.

Why does that seem so far away now?

With great difficulty, Dew stands on unsure feet for only a moment before feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Shit." he staggers uncoordinatedly in one spot before carefully lowering himself to the ground, knees pressing into the hardwood, and crawls to the bathroom instead.

He can barely reach the handle from the floor, but when he does, the door refuses to budge, and Dew bumps against it weakly with his shoulder, accidentally knocking his head and wincing.

He really needs to get this thing fucking fixed.

His head and the damned door.

Dew grunts awkwardly, smacking his hand uselessly against the flat surface.

It doesn't even make a sound when his hand slaps it, looks more like he's drunkenly petting it if anything.

Fuck.

His eyes water, clouding his already hazy vision as the pain starts to really set in.

It's like someone stabbing him repeatedly in the head with a metal fork, but lifting each time to scrape against the insides of his skull, and the only thing he can think to do is press his face to the floor and hope it's cold enough to soothe the persistent pulsing in his brain.

He tries to breathe normally, keep himself from clenching his jaw, but it's hard.

His body feels impossibly heavy.

He shivers.

Across the room, he can hear his phone buzzing.

Someone's calling him, but he just closes his eyes, trying to block out the noise.

It's not easy, and the grating sound of it rattling against the desktop feels like a knife in his ear, but, eventually, he's more focused on keeping his stomach settled and his head cooled that he's too out of it to realize his bedroom door is opening.

.

.

.

When Dew opens his eyes again, he's in his bed, bundled up in a sweatshirt too big to be his own, propped up on his side by a pillow wedged under his back, and a blanket covering him from the waist down, so his legs stay warm, but ensuring that his tender stomach stays relatively cooler.

A cold compress falls from his neck as he lifts his head, looking around the room tiredly.

He's dully aware of two things as he comes back to himself.

His mouth tastes like... peppermint.

Whoever put him here also brushed his teeth, and...

There's a distinct smell of artificial lemons in the air, like the floor cleaner they use specifically for the wood floors when there's been a spill so it doesn't leave a stain.

He tries not to think about what the person needed to clean up besides, ya know, him.

Dew sniffs again, but something about the action causes a fleck of spit to go down the wrong tube, and he lets out a little cough, which quickly turns into a groan as the muscles in his abdomen contract.

"Ah, you're awake."

Dew makes a small, befuddled noise in the back of his throat, followed by a weary chirp when he sees Rain walk into the room, smiling at him.

Dew drags himself up into a sitting position, and Rain is quick to rearrange his pillows to keep him upright.

"...Did you clean up my... the mess?" he croaks, his throat feels painfully dry, "Ow..."

"Mm-mm." Rain shakes his head, uncapping a water bottle and handing it to Dew.

"Nah, that was Swiss, he's the one who found you on the floor. Said he was coming to show you something stupid he bought and... yeah."

Dew tries to lift the bottle to drink, but his hands are too shaky and he spills a little down the front of his shirt, pouting.

Seeing his predicament, Rain steadies the bottle enough for Dew to drink a few good sips of water before taking it back and setting it on the nightstand beside the bed, "Better?"

"Mn..." he clicks his tongue, "I feel like... a rock... a rock made of shit."

"That's... I have no idea if feeling like a coprolite is better or worse than you felt before, but I'm going to assume that means you're feeling... relatively okay?"

"Ehn." Dew shrugs, "...my head doesn't hurt anymore, but my stomach's being a bitch..."

"Do you think you're going to throw up again?" Rain asks, worriedly eyeing the bathroom door.

"No... it's just sore now." he says, sinking back into the pillows, looking around the room curiously, "...Where'd Swiss go?"

"To take a shower." Rain says, glancing at the floor.

Ah.

"...'m sorry." Dew mumbles and Rain just smiles sadly and pets his hair.

"If you want to apologize to properly, you've gotta rest up and get better, okay?"

Dew nods, purring sleepily as Rain scratches around his horns.

"Any idea what made you sick?" Rain asks and Dew shrugs.

"Mn, migraine maybe... dunno..." he tugs at his shirt, "...Whose is this? Is this a unicorn riding a... riding a motorcyle, what?"

"It's Cirrus'."

Dew pinches his eyes shut and grumbles, "How many of you saw me all... gross and shit?"

There's a brief pause of consideration before Rain responds.

"Uh... When Swiss found you, he kind of shouted and..."

Dew covers his face with his hands.

"...Fuuuck..."

"We didn't know what was happening and-" Rain cuts himself off, watching tears dribble down Dew's chin, "Dew? Dew, does something hurt?"

"'m fuckin' embarrassed, what the fuck..." he whines, turning away from Rain and smushing his face into the pillow.

"Dew, it's-"

"'s'not okay..." Dew mumbles, "...I don't even remember what happened between being on the floor and now, and you all... that's fuckin' stupid."

"How's it stupid?"

"...I'm stupid. This is stupid-"

"Dew-"

"-My body's fucking stupid!" Dew cries, whipping around and throwing the pillows off his bed in a fit, flopping back down only to kick the sheets off as well, sniffling angrily when they refuse to untangle from around his legs.

"I'm a fuckin' demon! I'm supposed to be tougher than this!"

"Dew." Rain says a bit more firmly, grabbing his knees, forcing his legs to still, "Dew, I know it's upsetting, but we've got this, yeah? We're gonna take care of you."

"I don't want that..." Dew wipes his eyes with the sleeve of Cirrus' sweatshirt, "Don't want it..."

"Don't want us to take care of you or..." Rain tries, lowering his voice.

"Don't want..." Dew rolls onto his side again, "...I don't... I don't like..."

Rain tilts his head and waits.

"...I don't..." he can't finish the sentence.

He doesn't even know how he's supposed to articulate what he's feeling right now aside from sick.

His brain feels like pudding and all he can keep thinking about is how all of them...

...All of them...

"...Don't like it when you see me... see me like that..." he says finally, picking at the mattress, "Just leave me on the floor next time, pretend you didn't notice-"

The door creaks open and Swiss enters with his arms crossed.

"You... you know we can't do that, right?" he scoffs, holding his hand up when Dew opens his mouth to argue, "Sorry, baby boy, but I... we don't like seeing you suffer as much as you seem to want to hide it, so, like, no."

Dew hisses, but feels the fight leaving him when Rain sends him a sympathetic look and kneads his shoulder soothingly.

Swiss enters the room fully and shuts the door part way, leaving it ajar, before sitting down on the end of his bed, just out of kicking range in case Dew throws another tantrum.

"...This is fucking humiliating..." Dew huffs, staring daggers at his ceiling fan.

"Which part? Your sweet new sleep shirt curtesy of Cirrus, or the fact that we all love you so much we wouldn't let you lie on the floor in agony?"

Dew tilts his head down to look at the shirt again.

"...The latter."

He does have to admit he likes the design, but that's not the point.

"Well, too bad. We love ya, and you're going to have to get used to that." Swiss teases, "But, really, dude... We were really worried."

Rain nods.

"I would have been fine..." Dew whispers, "Not my first rodeo with this shit, so..."

"And you know that's more concerning, right?" Swiss points out, "Cause here's the thing; I don't care if you don't care about your own wellbeing, I mean, I fucking DO because you should care, but that's not even... What I'm trying to say is, if you're not doing well, you can tell us, you know that, yeah?"

Dew frowns, returning to glaring at his ceiling.

"Dew..." Swiss sighs, "I..."

He takes a deep breath and leans forward to hold his hand.

"Have any of us... ever made you feel like it isn't safe to talk about this stuff?" he asks.

"...No."

"But, do you... feel like it's not safe to talk about it?"

Dew doesn't answer right away, but when he does, his voice wobbles a bit.

"Yeahh..."

Rain returns to petting Dew's hair, "We've got you."

Swiss gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

At some point, Dew falls back asleep.

His dreams are nightmarish and provide little to no respite.

.

.

.

When Dew wakes, Rain is gone, but Swiss is lounging on his bed beside him scrolling through his phone, and Dew angles his head to take a peek at his screen.

"...Is that a dog or a cat?" he asks, his words a bit slurred from the way he's squished.

Swiss startles and almost drops his phone, "Jesus!"

He places a hand on his chest.

"I thought you were asleep!"

"I was." Dew mumbles, "...And now I'm awake."

"Thank you for the rundown, Captain Obvious.... Geez... You're scaring me a lot today, you know that?" Swiss pinches Dew's cheek and gives it a pull.

"Aughh diiidnth meean tooahh..." Dew says, "...'m thorry."

Swiss lets go of his face and sets his phone off to the side.

"You really did though." he says, ruffling Dew's hair, "I got scared seeing you on the ground like that, I didn't know what to do, and if... if something..."

He shakes his head.

"Actually, let's talk about that later, when you're better... How're you feeling now that you've slept some more?"

Dew yawns, "Weirdly more tired..."

Swiss snorts, "Yeah?"

"Yeah..." Dew wriggles closer to Swiss, looping his arm around his midsection and bumping his head against his chest.

"Whatcha doin' there, bud?"

"Lay down." Dew nudges him, "Sleep."

"Well, since you asked so politely..."

Dew lets Swiss go in order for him to get settled, resting his head on the pillow beside his.

"I'm still upset with you." Swiss informs him, but still allows Dew to snuggle up against his side, "...Glad you're not dead though."

"You thought I died?"

Swiss hums.

"You weren't responding when I called your name or shook you, so... yeah... yeah, I did." he says, resting his chin on top of Dew's head, "Aeth came running, made sure that... that you weren't... ya know."

"...Ah..."

"I..." Swiss swallows, voice cracking, "...Everybody was scared, but then you woke up! And we got you to answer some questions, and then... then you..."

"What did I do?" Dew asks nervously.

"You, uh, you... it was like the meme... You were just standing there, like dumbfounded about it, and meanwhile I'm over here like, 'BRO'..."

"This clears up nothing."

"You ruined my crocs."

"Oh. Ohhh..."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence for a moment while Dew processes this new information.

"...In hindsight, that's... that's at least a little funny." he says, "...Who brushed my teeth?"

"Oh that was Aeth and Rainy, they had a hell of a time getting into your bathroom, so they took you to Cirrus' room and got you all cleaned up. That's where we got the shirt and the shorts."

Dew lifts the blankets and stares.

Pink with white polka dots... what kind of cursed wardrobe is Cirrus hiding in her bedroom?

"After that, Mount made some weird tea and made you drink it, which, like, I don't know what was in that stuff-"

"Peppermint and chamomile with a sprinkling of ginger and two ibuprofen on the side!" Mountain calls from the other side of the wall.

Swiss blinks, "Damn the walls in this place are thin..."

"Anyway, you drank, like, two cups of that and zonked out, and that's about it. Still embarrassed?"

"Little bit... Less now that I know what happened... that's the scariest part." Dew confesses, "...It's the idea that something happened and I don't remember, but other people do, combined with... I dunno, not being able to stop it from happening to begin with..."

"Well... maybe a trip to the doctor is in order to help with that last part." Swiss says, rubbing Dew's back, "...Hey?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, Dewboy."

"Love you, too."

"We all love each other, now go to bed already, some of us are trying to sleep!" Cirrus chimes in from across the hallway, sending a pillow through the open door.

"You're all ruining the moment!" Swiss complains.

"If everyone is awake right now, can someone get me a glass of water?" Sunny inquires.

"Didn't I already get you-"

Swiss gets up and closes the door.

"Bedtime?" he asks.

"Bedtime." Dew confirms, holding his arms out for Swiss to collapse back into.

ain’t an ounce of ass on that ghoul

relationship dynamic: sleepwear edition.

Just another little sketch of Phil (Special Ghoul)

"You look like you need a hug...And that you've needed one for a long time."

Receiving Papa of your choice.

very short lil drabble for my main man (terzo)

Terzo’s immediate reaction is confusion. He’s used to people asking him for hugs, his adoring fans wanting to be blessed by his touch. That has subsided since he’s been retired but he was still getting some physical attention. Not this kind, though.

“Che cosa?” He crosses his arms and looks you up and down. “Are you flirting with me, cara?”

“What? N-no, Papa, it’s just…you look like you need a hug...And that you've needed one for a long time." You fidget with your hands as you gaze back into his mismatched eyes. His brows furrow and he opens his mouth, only to immediately close it again. You extend your arms out to him and hold him there.

Terzo’s eyes flit from your arms to your face and back again. He is so unsure — this kind of touch seeming so foreign to him. He moves to you, slow and calculated, and allows you to wrap your arms around him. He is incredibly stiff, his body rigid as he hugs you back.

You start to rub his back gently, moving your hand in slow circular motions. It takes some time but Terzo finally starts to relax against you. He nestles his face in the crook of your neck and you give him a squeeze. You hear a small sound come from him and he buries his face even deeper into your neck, his grip tightening around you.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Papa.” You whisper to him. He trembles in your arms and you can hear him softly cry into you.

You hold him as long as he needs.

Dewdrop has one singular kit

Rating: some very descriptive details of birth but it's not too bad, other than that it's sfw

Wc: 1421 (?!??!)

Based on a 3am conversation with @sphylor @muddiestpath @terzosboyfriend and I can't remember who else wanted to be tagged but you'll see it anyways

A/n the ending is super rushed I apologize, I will probably be making a part 2 but don't expect it

It came with no warning at all, he had no warning signs, no symptoms. But here he was. Dewdrop had been on his way to do his chores, sweeping the library and tidying up the book shelves. He never quite made it that far.

Hide. Nest. Hide.

The words repeated themselves in his mind, becoming more and more urgent. He looked around the corridor, searching for a spot he could sneak into and tuck himself away in. The supply closet! He slammed himself into the small, dusty room. It smelled of mildew and old clothes, not much light filtering through aside from where the door didn't come flush to the floor.

He crouched down into the corner, propping himself against the cold stone wall. He ripped his sweater off, suddenly feeling hot and itchy, a sheen of sweat covering his burning skin.

What is going on.

He wasn't due for his heat yet, not for another month. This wasn't a rut, while those came without warning they didn't come with pain. And oh does he hurt.

His lower abdomen is aching, a sharp breathtaking pain that has him seeing stars. Squeezing his eyes shut, he begged for whatever the hell this was to end. With a start he realized his jeans were damp, the sulfuric tang of distress hitting his nose in a way that made his stomach drop. He quickly kicked his pants and underwear off, letting out a small gasp at the dark red stain pooling under his milky white thighs.

I'm dying. Yup. This is it, this is how I go.

He whines as a particularly sharp pain blooms through his gut, lurching forward and wrapping his arms around himself. The searing ache only intensifies as the seconds tick, his breath fast and heavy. He feels like he can't breathe, like no matter how much air he sucks in its just not enough.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels a tear slide down his throat, tickling his skin in an infuriating way before he wipes at it with a shaky hand. It was a token gesture, a useless one at that. He was crying in earnest now, his breath catching in his throat as he sobbed through fresh waves of pain. Surely someone would hear him? Hear his quiet whimpers and come save him?

His head spun as he sunk his teeth into his thigh, hoping the sensation would distract him from the rest. His ears are ringing, his head feeling so far away.

But then, through the fog he hears a small whine. It's not his own. When he looks for the source, he's met with a lump of wet fuz and tiny limbs. A kit?

He picks it up gently, looking it over for any abnormalities before nipping the chord at its stomach. He set to work licking it clean, chasing the fluids away and fluffing up its soft down-like fur. He couldn't see through his tear filled eyes, these tears were different than before. His body shook with the effort of staying upright, his stomach still painfully contorting to get the rest out. He's acting on instinct now, lifting the kit to his chest so it can feed.

I need Aether, fuck.

He calls out, a weak chatter that he knows no one can hear. But he doesn't stop. Someone has to walk by sooner or later, maybe a Sister of Sin, maybe some church staff. He doesn't really care who, just someone. As if Satan himself was answering his silent prayers, the door opens, flooding the small room with light. Dewdrop hisses at the sudden assault, curling in on himself in an act to shield the whining kit in his arms. The creaky door muffled the sound of the placenta finally leaving his body, hitting the ground with an audible squelch.

"Dew? Fuck, Dew, what happened? Are you bleeding? Fuck."

Aether.

He let out a sigh of relief, lifting his heavy head and meeting the ghouls worried gaze. Aether pulled his phone out, sending Mountain a quick text.

A: hey can you come to the storage room down by the library and bring a blanket?

It's dew.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, ignoring the several pings Mountain sent in response.

"Dew, I need you to tell me what happened. Hey, hey it's okay! Shhh it's okay."

Aether stopped his approach when Dew only responded with a distressed chatter, fresh tears staining his cheeks. He slowly unfurled himself, showing the bigger ghoul his kit. When he leaned down to get a closer look, he was awestruck. It was tiny, barely a handful. Thin webbing was just barely visible between its little fingers and toes, the hint of fins poking out from the soft tufts of fur. It was a pale, almost white blue, spotted with little iridescent scales.

Aether smiled, shocked at the news. He held his hands out, silently asking Dew to let him hold the little thing. Dewdrop hesitated, anxiety blooming across his chest. But he was tired, his body still aching. He placed the kit in Aethers arms, scampering his way into the ghouls lap hissing at the fresh pain his movements brought.

"She's so small. I reckon this is Rain's kit, huh?"

Dew smiled, tucking his head into Aethers neck. The resemblance is uncanny.

"Unholy shit……"

Mountain stood in the doorway, blanket in one hand, his phone in the other. He sputtered trying to wrap his head around the scene before him. Dew is a mess, covered in his own blood and bodily fluids, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. His face is bright red and damp with tears, and he is very naked. He stepped forward, draping the blanket over Dewdrop's shoulders, staring in awe at the little creature Aether was placing back onto the little ghouls chest.

"Alright bud, you're not gonna like this, just bear with me okay. I'm gonna lift up."

Aether scoops him up, careful to not jostle him too hard but the movement still makes him let out a small squeak. He whispers soothing words into his ear, telling him how good he did and how proud he was.

"Erm….before we get too far, Dew, we have uuhhh, two new summons."

His ears pinned to the side of his head as he held his kit closer. Letting Aether, who he trusts with his life, hold her was too much. Having new ghouls he didn't know around just brought back his anxiety even as Aether was pressing his quintessence into him to sooth it. He gave his head a little shake, his eyes wide as he silently pleaded with the earth ghoul.

"Hey, shhh, it's okay. We'll get your room and you won't even know they're there. How's a bath sound?"

He nods, relaxing at the thought of being clean. He can still feel the warm sticky liquid dripping down his legs, his whole body covered in sweat. He wanted a bath, some food, and Rain.

With a start he realizes just how much he wants Rain right now.

“R-rain.”

His voice comes out hoarse, quiet and strained.

“We can get him for you, he's gonna be so excited.”

Dew lifts his head as they enter the ghouls wing, the others were all in the common room. Swiss was showing the new ghoul something on his phone, Cumulus and Cirrus were snuggled up on the loveseat, Rain was watching Sunshine show the new ghoulette how to crochet. They all perked up when they saw Dew, Rain jumping up to follow them into his room.

“What- oh. Oh!”

Mountain started the bathwater, Aether setting the little ghoul on the toilet to go grab some more comfortable clothes. Rain knelt down, placing his hands on Dews' knees as he watched the little kit lift its head and sniff the air.

“No offense Dew, but she looks just like Rain.”

Dew only smiled, that's exactly what he's been saying in his head.

Aether helped him bathe and get dressed, putting him in only a pair of boxers and a zip up hoodie for easy access. Taking his time, he makes sure the little ghoul is comfy, Rain snuggled up next to him, the two of them cooing over their creation and purring contentedly. His heart swells with pride as he takes a moment to watch them, a look of adoration painting their faces.

No one would have guessed, but seeing it now, he knew Dewdrop was going to be a great parent.

Hideaway

Word count: 864

Rating: General audiences

Pairing: Polyghouls

Characters: Dewdrop, Aether, mention of Omega

Key features: Dew with a kit, semi feral Dew, semi feral ghoul whisperer Aether

Summary: Dew has been missing for the pack for three days. Aether finds him.

This work was heavily inspired by @chapel-of-rizztual 's new fic! Go read it right now!

Dew had been missing for three days. 

Now, while it wasn't unusual for ghouls to disappear for a few days for hunts or heats, it was strange for Dew to go missing. 

The ghoul, if he was injured or sick or just tired, would hole away in his room until he felt better. But they had checked his room. In fact, they had checked every inch of the dormitory. He wasn't there. 

The pack was starting to worry. 

They'd spread their search, to the library and the chapel and even the siblings' dorms. 

It was late at night, and they were just about to give up their search for the day. Aether could feel the other pack members telepathically telling him that they were going to look again in the morning, that maybe Dew would come out for food. 

Aether was far from the dorms. He was down in an abandoned part of the Ministry, mostly used for storage nowadays. Everything was quiet, muffled by a thick layer of dust.

Then, a whimper. 

Just a soft one. 

Aether's ears twitched. He followed the sound, his footsteps light, not wanting to spook whatever made that sound. 

He found what he had been looking for. 

Dew. 

The poor ghoul, he was propped up between a bookshelf and a wall. He wore only a shirt, though all of the buttons were undone. He only looked semi conscious. 

"Fuck, Dew." Aether breathed. He ran over to the sad little lump, his footsteps making Dew perk up. 

Dew looked around dozily for a second, then hissed and curled away from Aether. He tucked his head down and brought his knees up, hiding away in a ball. His tail thudded anxiously on the floor beside him. 

"Dewdrop. Shit. Hi." Aether slowed his approach, seeing how Dew reacted like a flighty animal. He chirruped softly, a noise reserved for submissive ghouls, to show Dew that he wasn't going to hurt him. "Hey. You're alright." 

Except Dew probably wasn't alright. As Aether stepped closer, he noticed the dark puddle under Dew. He could smell the blood. 

"I need you to talk to me, Dew. Tell me you're okay." Aether dropped to his knees and crawled the rest of the distance, though he stopped around five metres from the other ghoul. "Or tell me you're not okay, and I can help." 

Dew stared at Aether with big, fearful eyes. Then he chittered anxiously, a quiet 'ekekek' sound. 

"Alright. Can't talk. Okay." Aether nodded slowly. Sometimes ghouls went a little feral. It was in their nature. It was okay, Aether could deal with it. "Are you still bleeding?" 

Dew shook his head. He tucked further into the corner. 

Then, another, tiny whimper rang out. 

It didn't come from Dew's lips. 

"What the Hell?" Aether whispered. Dew was starting at him like a deer in headlights. "What's going on, Dew? Give me something to work with here." 

Slowly, and ever so cautiously, Dew turned. In his trembling arms was a kit. A tiny, curled up little thing, sucking on the fork of their tail in a self soothing gesture.

"Oh, fuck…" Aether crawled closer. "Where did you get them, droplet?" 

Dew gave Aether a look, as if to say 'Where do you normally get kits from?'. He raised a disapproving eyebrow, before his expression was replaced by a wince. 

"Hey, take it easy. Steady, little guy. Can I see them?" He asked softly. Dew shook his head. "Alright. Can you hold them out a little, just so I can look them over?" 

Carefully, Dew held the kit up, even as they squirmed and whined at getting moved. They were absolutely tiny. One of the smallest kits Aether had ever seen. Their cord wasn't attached, and they seemed to have a belly full of milk. Dew had done well on his own. 

"Thanks, Dew. That's all I needed to see. You can take your kit back now. That's it, keep them warm against your chest. Good lad." Aether murmured, as if he was speaking to a spooked animal. He closed his eyes, contacting Omega through their telepathy. Letting him know that he'd found Dew and he needed medical help. 

"I'm gonna give you my shirt. I want you to put it over the kit, like a blanket. She's very little, Dew. I don't want her getting cold." He said steadily, unbuttoning his shirt and holding it out to Dew. The fire ghoul snatched it from him, then carefully laid it over the kit's back, covering her completely.

"Yeah, that's it. You managed to hide her well, huh?" Aether laughed quietly. He could hear all of his pack popping into his head, asking questions about Dew. He ignored them for the moment.

"Ti-nee." Dew croaked out in explanation, his voice crackly from disuse. He gestured to his middle. It had a bit of a swell to it, but otherwise it just looked like a regular belly. Not like someone who had just given birth. 

"Yeah, she is… You've done such a good job, Dew." Aether could hear Omega's heavy footsteps in the distance. "We're going to get you some help, gorgeous. Just stay awake for a little longer, yeah? Alright. Doing a great job. Good mama."

Dew smiled proudly at that. He was a good mama.