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ashthewaterghoul · 1 month ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/ashthewaterghoul/763482572056576000/may-we-have-more-phanter-cuddle-buddies-im

HELLS YEAH LETS GOOOOOOOOO

Phanter Cuddle Buddies - The Full Story

A 3.1k ramble on the entire 'lore' of this hc of mine, and the asks I got about it after posting it. All posts relating to it can be found with the tag #phanter cuddle buddies.

Phanter = Phantom + Copia (Frater)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~

Phantom landed in a heap on the altar, a story painted across their skin in scars. There were some fresh wounds too - maybe Ghouls trying to hop a ride, maybe it was jealousy it wasn’t them. All Copia knew was that he needed to protect them.

After Phantom had been taken to the infirmary – the usual checks to make sure a Ghoul didn’t see any damage from the summoning, along with healing the open wounds – Copia introduced himself. He hated how Phantom bristled at the word ‘Master’ and promised that Phantom would always be safe here, under his leather bat-wing.

“Whenever you need me, and whatever for. I will help you, and protect you.” Copia promised. And he meant every word in whatever interpretation you could think of.

He checked on Phantom often, also receiving updates from the rest of the pack and Copia could see through every façade the young Ghoul put up. Phantom was struggling with nightmares, struggling to adjust to life topside, and certainly the gawping from the Siblings and pressures from the Clergy weren’t helping matters. Copia could see the piccolo pipistrello falling apart piece-by-piece.

So, he paid them a visit one evening. And offered something Phantom was in sore need of, a hug.

Phantom started crying with relief as they sunk down, head on Copia’s chest and arms around his waist. Copia’s hands wrapped around Phantom’s torso and held on tight. Phantom never made any move to let go, so Copia didn’t either. And they both fell asleep together in each other’s arms.

When Copia woke up, Phantom was still asleep. And when Aether poked his head in for some guitar lessons, he looked astounded.

“They haven’t slept in this late at all.” He muttered. It was only 8:30am.

They agreed to let Phantom sleep until their body woke up of its own accord, and that ending up being almost two hours later.

Phantom looked entirely well-rested and peaceful, but was immediately guilty for Copia having been there the whole night and keeping him from his duties that morning. Satanas, they were like a kit!

“Fantasma, one of my duties as Papa is to ensure the proper care of all my Ghouls. Being here with you, making sure you’re okay, is me attending my duties.”

Phantom didn’t feel too much better. But it was something.

Copia unfortunately didn’t see them again for the days following, but on a particularly restless night, he got up and immediately startled because there was a Phantom on his floor. Copia could see Aether’s keys next to them so either a borrowing or theft occurred. But Copia couldn’t quite care because Phantom was on the cold and rough floor.

Phantom hadn’t slept well at all for the nights following the impromptu sleep over with Copia. And Aether assured them that Copia would be more than happy to do it again, even offering his spare key for the room that he never used. As Phantom walked into the bedchamber of the Papal suite, they could see Copia with his eyes shut and he look so comfortable that Phantom didn’t dare wake him. Surely that was some sort of offence here? To ruin Papa’s beauty rest? Or did Dew say that about the other guy?

It was no matter because Phantom wouldn’t wake Copia for their silly little problem. So, just like they had down in the pits countless times, they made do with what they had and slept on the ground.

By morning they wouldn’t know the difference and would just have to stretch their back out a bit. But something certainly felt different when they woke up. It was soft and plush and warm and Phantom was still on their side, tucked against Copia’s chest. He smelt like stale tobacco that had long settled into woollen sweaters and old parchment.

And that became somewhat of a routine.

Phantom would sneak up from the Ghoul den and use Aether’s key to get in. They’d snuggle on the ground, and Copia always woke up at the perfect time to lift them into his bed without waking them.

“You know,” Copia said as he woke one morning, “you can always ask. No need for sneakiness, pipistrello.”

“But, aren’t I just being stupid? Shouldn’t I just get on with it like everyone else does?” Phantom asked.

“If that would make you more comfortable, then by all means. I don’t know about you, but this is quite comfortable for me.” Copia said, wrapping his arms tight around Phantom, and putting a kiss inbetween their horns.

“This is comfy for me too.” Phantom said, snuggling in further, and kneading along Copia’s tummy. An odd habit of self-soothing they did, and Copia adored because it meant Phantom was with him.

With the restful nights for them both, Phantom came out their shell a lot more and managed to spend a night or two away from Copia a week. Although they had become great at asking to come over, rather than sneaking in. It took some prompting from Copia for it to start, but they got there. And Copia couldn’t be prouder.

Phantom’s sleep was often wracked with nightmares and flashbacks of all they went through in the pits. They sometimes would wake screaming and crying in a cold sweat, sometimes they would just blink awake and silently cry, horrendously uncomfortable from their what images their mind would conjure up. Whatever happened, Copia helped. Even if he himself didn’t always wake up, his scent was what Phantom used to ground themself, or sometimes trace along the tattoo on his pec. Just Copia’s presence helped Phantom. “The safest arms in the Ministry” Mountain had said as a joke, but Phantom couldn’t ever think anything else.

As much as their nights helped Phantom rest easier, they helped Copia too. He was a world-class insomniac – a trait he learned he shared with all his brothers – but something about Phantom helped him sleep easier. It wasn’t any Quintessence; he knows what that feels like. It was just a deep-rooted contentment in his heart that warmed him up as Phantom snuggled in close.

Copia never had any children of his own, but he felt like Phantom was the child he’d always wanted. They were just so perfect, and he cared and loved them more than he ever had for his Ghouls. It was almost primal the way he adored the Bug and wanted to protect them.

From anyone else, Papa had felt like a title, a denote of respect.

From Phantom? It was true, he was their Papa, in any and every way you could imagine.

One night, when Phantom came up in their fluffy pyjamas that Cumulus had bought them, Copia handed them a gift bag.

“I didn’t forget my birthday, did I?” Phantom asked.

“No, no, il mio bambino.” Copia laughed, “This is for no particular reason other than I want you to have it.”

Phantom opened the bag, and their eyes watered as they lifted their own spare key for the room from the bag. A little purple bat keyring hanging from it.

“Even if I am not here, you can always come in. I know for Ghouls even the scent of someone, or their space in general can be a comfort.” Copia said.

“Thank you.” Phantom whispered; their heart full of gratitude and tears running down their face.

“You deserve it. And now you can stop stealing Aether’s keys.” Copia smiled, and they both laughed.

Even during the nights Phantom spent away from Copia’s bed, the sheets still smelt vaguely of them. Copia’s human nose would never be as sharp as a Ghoul’s. Apparently Phantom’s scent was log fires and cocoa but Copia couldn’t quite discern those notes. All he could smell was Phantom. Hisbambino. His pipistrello.

And for Phantom, they had stolen more than a few things from Copia’s room – shouldn’t have given me a key if he didn’t want me having access to things with his scent – and so they could always smell him too. It would never be as good as the real deal, but it was always a good make-do. And they had they key so they could have the real deal whenever they wanted or needed.

Even on tour, they often paired up for hotel rooms, or crammed their two bodies into the small bunks. Tiny sofas in greenrooms or sprawled out in parks on adventures. Any and all struggle was worth it to have their solace in their little world.

But then, it happened.

Sister died, and Copia ascended to Frater Imperator.

When they returned home from that tour, Copia was told that he had new Quarters. He wasn’t Papa now; he didn’t need the Papal suite. Okay yeah, that makes sense.

Copia was handed the key, and so he asked if there were any spares. He was told no.

“Well, I should like a few made, per favore.” Copia said.

“Why?” The bishop who had arranged the room change asked.

“Do I need a reason? I am often forgetful; I should like spares.” He had more authority, they should listen to him now, right?

“We can get more made or find a locksmith if you forget your key, Papa.”

“It is Frater now, and I should like a spare. At least one.”

“Well, it can be considered. But as Frater your safety is of utmost priority. Why should we consider it?”

Copia exhaled, “It is for my Ghoul. We both enjoy the other’s company, get our own benefits from it.” They were a Church of Sin, if he made it sound like it was something sinful then they would agree, right? “They had a key to my old rooms. I should like to keep that curtesy going as my successor has refused them.”

A deafening second of silence. Then a deafening crack of laughter.

Copia locked himself in and cried in his new room. He didn’t realise how much the old place smelled of Phantom until he realised their scent would never grace the new Quarters.

He tried to go without Phantom, as painful as it was. Maybe it was just a habit he could break even though he didn’t want to break it. The little he now saw Phantom, he knew they were struggling too. Neither of them had been sleeping right, and Copia was very thankful for his Clergy paint hiding his dark purple under-eyes. Phantom was praying that the new masks may still have the googles to hide their own exhaustion.

Phantom had tried to come up to Copia’s new room on the second night, having not slept a wink on the first. They got up to the stairs that led way to the High Clergy wing, and there was Clergy guarding the stairs. That was new. Phantom just tried to offer them a polite smile and continue on, but a hand pushed into their abdomen to stop them moving.

“What do you want, Ghoul?” One man asked them.

“T- to see Copia.” Phantom said.

“It is late. Frater needs his rest before his first day on the job tomorrow.” The other said.

“But I always come and see him. I had a key to his old room.” Phantom said.

“Yes, when he was Papa. He is not Papa anymore. He has no responsibility to Ghouls.”

Phantom felt like crying or shouting or ripping them to shreds. So, they turned on their heel until they were out of sight, and collapsed to the floor. They stuffed their fleece sleeve into their mouth to stop their sobs echoing and managed to cry themselves dry on the ground. When they woke up, they were in a bed. But any and all hope was quickly ripped away when they realised that it wasn’t Copia’s bed.

Aether’s Quintessence had known something was wrong, and with a bit of searching, he found Phantom asleep in the corridor. Eyes swollen from crying and absolutely reeking of despair. He picked them up, and brought them back to his own nest, holding them for every second until they woke up.

A few nights later, Copia tried to go down to the den instead, just like that first time.

“Where are you going, Frater?” One Clergy guard asked.

“A walk, I am restless.” He said simply.

“If his Dark Excellency wants to take a walk that is fine, but one of us must accompany you until you return safely to your room.”

“It is unneeded.” He assured.

“It is needed. A rule from the new Papa. To ensure the safety of all.”

“Well, an old rule from Sister Imperator means that I hold absolute power here. I do not need an escort.”

“It is certainly something you can bring up in the next Clergy meeting, but for now…”

Copia gritted his teeth, “You know, gentlemen, this talk has been exactly what I needed to wear myself out.” He turned and left. And it certainly didn’t wear him out because he couldn’t sleep for the life of him.

It’s not right for an Imperator to be so close with the Ghouls.

They’re a Papa’s responsibility, not yours.

It’s just not proper.

Don’t you sleep easier with room in your bed for those who want to satisfy your sinful urges?

It isn’t safe.

It’s not your duty anymore.

The Ghoul is fully grown and has a whole pack, they will be fine by themself.

No.

It’s all Copia heard on repeat for the next… how long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? It couldn’t possibly have been years, could it?

It actually had been nearly two years.

Two years of not a single night slept well for Phantom or Copia. Neither were permitted to keep anything that smelled of the other and what they did manage to keep quickly lost the scent of its original owner. Whenever Copia was allowed to take a Ghoul on business trips for security, his requests for Phantom were rejected for someone bigger and stronger who would protect him. Texting and video calling didn’t have the same effect when all they wanted were each other’s scents and warmth. They had odd moments they could be together – Clergy get-togethers and the like – but it wasn’t what they craved.

“One day” had become their mantra, no matter how much it felt it would never happen.

Phantom was whisked away on tours with the new guy and the distance from Copia only made things worse. Aether had been an okay substitute but even he wasn’t here either. Swiss had been the one to deal with Phantom mainly, others taking over when they allowed. Returning home, all Phantom wanted was to run to Copia’s arms, but he was never allowed anything more than a handshake.

If Phantom though they knew Hell, this was so much worse.

Copia still saw Phantom as his child. And to have his child in the same building, the same roof, only a few minutes’ walk away and to not be able to help them or comfort them through the long nights? He was in agony.

Copia thought Hell would be kinder than this torture.

But, as always, the Ghouls had a plan.

Some Clergy had announced retirements, location changes, even a disappearance from one stubborn Archbishop. To anyone else, if was just unfortunate, but Copia saw a certain pattern to each Clerical change. He knew his Ghouls and it started to feel suspicious to Copia. Swiss’ smirk when he asked all but confirmed it.

“We’re natural born predators, Frater. You always encouraged us to be ourselves. We’re pack. And we hunt those who hurt our pack.” Swiss explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Aether and Mountain had been spearheading their silent insurrection to ensure that no one actually got murdered, no matter how much they may want it, well… apart from the Archbishop but the Ghoulettes were hunting and he was just in the way. Copia got clued into everything, and managed to make some of his own methodical staff changes. But eventually, enough Clergy had been replaced with younger, open ears. The next time Copia proposed a change to the limits placed on what relationship he could have with his Ghouls, the odds finally tipped in their favours.

When Phantom got that text, they didn’t believe it. They asked just about every Ghoul they could find to speak it to back to them so they knew they were reading it correctly.

*Get your comfiest pyjamas on. Get the blanket and stuffie of yours I love. And get up here. I have something for you, pipistrello.*

Well, they have never moved faster in their entire life, and they’d been hunted what-must-be some world record number of times. Their chest was burning by the time they were at the staircase to the High Clergy wing. They half expected it to be a trick - one of those prank apps that make it look like calls and texts are coming from people you know and it was actually bored Siblings or Clergy playing games with them.

But no one stopped them. No one stopped them from going up the stairs, from finding the nameplate that said “Frater Imperator”. No one stopped them from knocking. And no one stopped them from jumping into Copia’s arms as he opened the door.

“Oh, mio bambino.” Copia cried too, kissing everything he could reach on Phantom without breaking the anxiety-relieving, bone-crushing, soul-melding hug they had wanted for so so long.

“Papa.” Phantom cried, they only ever said Frater when they had to because for all intents and purposes, Copia was their Papa.

They waddled backwards together into Copia’s suite, Phantom closing the door with their tail. After some inordinate amount of time, they broke apart, and Phantom had a good idea what was in the gift bag this time.

They pulled out a spare key for the new room, their bat keyring hanging off it, and started crying again. They were soothed by that scent of old tobacco settled into woolled sweaters and old parchment that was much more easily described as safety and home.

Phantom’s own unique scent, the feel of their heartbeat and their little hands kneading along his tummy made Copia’s heart swell. His cucciolo di pipistrello in his arms again, where they should’ve been the whole time. Right where they belong.

It may have been years, but Phantom and Copia’s bodies easily remembering the dance of snuggling into each other and burrowing down for a bit of rest. For the first time since they got home from that last tour, they both found themselves easily drifting away to the dreamworld. Although when they woke up, they would remember that their dreams from the last couple years had finally come true. But for now, they slept.

And by Satan that night of sleep was the safest, deepest and just the best in either of their Hellbound existences.

One shot master post can be found here!

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ink-and-dagger · 2 years ago

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Juice Box 🧃

Reader x Papa Emeritus IV || Popia x Juice box || Post-coital fluff || Drabble || MDNI || Copia being a weird lil guy 🖤

A/N: Quick, unedited brain-fart after Chapter 17. This is my new official Popia headcanon. Enjoy!

The laboured breaths of the man at your side fill the gaps between your own ragged exhales.

Second by second your muscles melt further into the mattress beneath you, and if you close your eyes and focus —cutting off all external senses— you can almost still feel the shivers of orgasmic pleasure lingering in your bone-marrow like ripples on a pond surface.

Several months of lingering looks and butterflies had led to several weeks of successful dates and chaste kisses, which in turn has lead to this first moment of physical intimacy with Papa Emeritus IV – and though his sweet and awkward nature is largely a part of what had drawn you to him in the first place, a part of you is mercifully grateful to discover that his placid nature does not carry over into the bedroom.

Beelzeboy can this man fuck.

The low complaint of bedsprings steals the satisfied smile from the corners of your mouth, and your stomach drops at the deliberate shift of the mattress. But you exhale your silent relief a moment later when it becomes apparent that he’s merely rolling over to retrieve something from his nightstand. You hear the wooden slide of a drawer, the light patter of searching fingers, and then he’s turning back to face you; hair ruffled and a tentative little smile on his paint-smudged lips.

“Orange or Apple?”

You blink at him once. Twice. Before your gaze drops to the two boxes in his hands, and the nature of his question truly registers.

Juice boxes. Juicy Juice juice boxes no less. Nostalgic warmth fills your heart, and it settles alongside the affectionate glow that only continues to brighten the more you get to know the man behind the papal paints and flowing robes.

You peer up through your lashes to meet Copia’s gaze, a shy curl upon your lips, “Apple, please.”

He appears pleased with your answer.

Like the gentleman he is, he promptly removes the straw on your behalf, (momentarily losing it within the rumpled folds of the blankets with a muttered “goddammit”) before piercing the small foiled hole at the top of the box and offering it out to you.

A soft “thanks” accompanies your backwards shuffle as you prop yourself up against the headboard next to him; shoulder to shoulder.

The quiet is comfortable, until it’s broken by a generous, rattling slurp. Copia clutches his own box with both hands, ample lips pursed around the straw with the enthusiastic force of his sucking. Both the sight and sound draws a giggle from you before you can help it, and he cuts you a wide-eyed, sideways glance, before swallowing his drink with a sheepish, “Eh, sorry…Orange is my favourite.”

“I can tell,” you grin.

A flash of self-consciousness crosses his mismatched gaze, but you’re quick to dispel such a thing from the soft depths of his eyes by resting your head upon his shoulder and taking a generous, noisy slurp of your own drink.

You sense him relax beneath your temple, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to cosy up closer. So you do.

“I like apple,” you muse aloud, “but I think blackcurrant is my ultimate favourite.”

The weight of Copia’s cheek sinks into the crown of your head, and his breath breezes warm through your hair.

“I will be sure to get some blackcurrant in pronto, Tesoro.”

#copia x reader #popia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia #popia #papa emeritus iv #ghost band #drabble #the band ghost #chapter 17 #ghost bc #ghost chapter 17 #copia juice box #juice box #my writing #fluff #mdni #I love him so much your honour

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