#ghost band comfort fic

[ghulehunknown]

Waking up with Papa Headcanons 💤

The below contains Safe For Work headcanons! Gender neutral reader

This morning I woke up daydreaming about having a Papa in my bed and all the cute cuddling and pillow talk we’d do 🥹

Primo

He’s already awake and brushing his teeth by the time you wake up

He’s made you a cup of tea, waiting for you on the bedside table

Kisses you sweetly on the forehead and hugs you before he leaves for the day

Says you are welcome to stay in his bed as long as you want

Secondo

You wake up to his arms protectively wrapped around your body

He already woke up long before you did, but wants to spend as much time with you as possible and didn’t want to leave yet

Has time for a quick cup of coffee and light conversation while he gets ready

Kisses you before leaving

Terzo

You wake up to him planting kisses on your neck and face

Your limbs are all tangled together because he’s wrapped himself tight around you in the night

He can’t get close enough to you and agonizes about leaving because all he wants to do is lay in bed with you all day and do nothing but watch TV and talk

You’re the first one to leave bed; he keeps pulling you back for more kisses, no matter how much you protest that you’re running late (and so is he)

Copia

He’s still snoring but is sleeping on his side, cuddling you with his hand on your waist, drool coming out of his mouth

Smiles when he wakes up and sees you next to him

Spends most of the free time staring into your eyes and talking with you before getting ready

Pulls you in tighter when you get up, and lets out an exasperated groan. “So soon, tesoro?”

Nihil

Laying flat on his back snoring with his mouth wide open

It takes a while to wake him up

Complains about what terrible sleep he got while you lay on his chest as he rubs your back soothingly before getting up for the day

He’s very slow to move or get ready at all, unless he has an important meeting

[theunholybastard]

Bad Day (Papa Emeritus IV x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Requested by @ollies-station !!! <3

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Is Hinted Trans But It's Pretty Vague, Mentions Of Body Dysmorphia/Dysphoria, 2nd Person POV

Copia hovered over you, paints smudged and halfway wiped off. He stopped in the middle of washing his face when he noticed something wasn't right with you. You lay face down in the bed, unmoving, just so done with life.

"Eh... t-tesoro, what's wrong?" Copia asks warily, head tilted like a confused puppy, eyes darting around the room awkwardly. He was never very good at comforting people. But you were the love of his life, how could he not at least try to be of help? He just can't stand to see you like this.

"Everything." You reply hoarsely, muffled by the pillow you were crying into earlier. You were hardly exaggerating, everything seemed to be going wrong and sending you further down a spiral. Not to mention, you've not been very kind to yourself today either. When you first woke up, things immediately felt off. You felt off. Looking into the mirror, you instantly felt dread, like something wasn't quite right with you. Deep rooted insecurities bubbled up to the surface, your body not feeling like your own. You just want the day to be over already, but every passing moment feels like eternity.

"Bad day, huh?" Copia sighs, sitting down on the bed with you, mindful to give you a little bit of space if you needed it. You finally lift your head up, and the sight makes Copias heart ache. Red, puffy face, tear stains down your cheeks, hair tussled and greasy. You hadn't even gotten a chance to shower that morning, notably the first sign today wasn't going to be all that great. You probably looked like a hot mess right now, but to Copia, you were the most beautifully ethereal being he'd ever laid his eyes on, no matter what state you were in.

"Is there anything I can do?" Copia asks concernedly, softly stroking your back with a gloved hand. "Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better."

"Maybe... But there's still so much stuff I have to do today-"

"Non importante. Whatever needs to get done today, I will do it for you. You've had enough stress put on you today, now it's time for you to relax. Now, tell your Papa what is wrong, okie dokie?"

You couldn't help yourself, airing out all your grievances to him. You spared no details, every little thing that went wrong and every little worry you had was brought to his attention, and he listened intently to every word. That was the one thing he's always been very good at. Listening. And he was right, it did make you feel a little better, especially with how earnest you could tell he was.

When it was all said and done, he said nothing at first, simply holding you close to his chest, his warmth and sweet smell of cologne quickly lulling you into a sense of security and comfort. You knew you always had a safe space with him.

"Bad days come and go, amore. You must keep in mind that this won't last forever. The good days will come back sooner than you think. And yes, maybe they will fleet sooner than you want them to as well, but the important thing is that they will come again. Look outside, tesoro..." You did as you were told, gazing out the window to see the sun slowly setting over the horizon.

"The day is almost over, you see? And tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Why don't you sit here for a moment and focus on that while I run you a nice relaxing bath, hm? I'll quickly run whatever errands you have left today, and after that I'll order some takeout for the two of us, how's that sound? I'll get you whatever you want."

"And... And can we maybe watch something after? And cuddle?" You sniffle. A comfort show would be great right now. He smiles. "Of course! Anything for my baby." He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, pulling away to get up and do the tasks he promised. You quickly grab the lapels of his jacket, keeping him from leaving you so soon.

"Copia... You know you don't have to do this, right? I'll be fine, really." You murmur, self conscious and worried that you're asking too much of this sweet, perfect man you've somehow managed to claim as yours. He chuckled.

"I know, amore; I want to. I want to make you happy, I want to make things easier for you. Because I love you. Because you deserve that. Capisci?" He says, a gentle firmness in his soft-spoken voice. Hesitantly, you nod. Still, you don't let go of his jacket just yet.

"Could you stay with me for just a little while longer?" You ask, hopeful and bleary eyed. He grins.

"As long as you need, tesoro."

-

[leezlelatch]

What I Was Made For

Terzo x F! Reader - Comfort, skin to skin, love confessions. Sometimes you just need your Papa.

Terzo’s chasuble falls off his body in a rush of satin, pooling at his feet. His gloves come off in equal measure, tossed to the floor carelessly. He removes each layer of clothing with hurried hands, stopping only when he’s standing before you in nothing but his underwear. He slides into the seat next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist in a firm grip as he drags you across the leather couch. You don’t say anything as his hands lift your shirt and usher you out of your leggings, joining them in a heap on the floor next to his papal vestments. 

“Terzo,” you finally break, your voice small, and he shushes you. A long finger slides beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are warm, even the white one like liquid as he regards you with a concerned and adoring smile. 

“I am here, piccolina,” he whispers, bringing your hands flat against the expanse of his chest to feel his heart beat steadily against your palms. “Do you feel me? I am here. I am here with you.” He continues to murmur this as he pulls you into a more comfortable position, cradling your head lovingly into the juncture of his neck as he reclines on the couch. “Feel my skin against yours. And breathe, mio dolce amore.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. He smells like caramel. He smells like your favorite candle. He smells like a warm pie baked in the chill of fall. He smells like home. You turn your nose into his skin and nuzzle against it, and Terzo almost coos, a sweet noise leaving his lips followed by a small chuckle. A chuckle of near disbelief as he pulls you closer. 

“Ah, what you do to me, eh? Make your Papa such a mess! I thought that was my job,” he squeezes you to him for a moment. “I will have to try harder, si?” He’s smiling, a contentment to his voice that you don’t think you have ever heard before. 

“You fluster me,” you murmur into his skin.

“Hmm? What was that?” He teases. “Speak up. Your Papa has a hard time hearing over his bravado, you see.” That makes you laugh, your body shaking on top of his. Terzo laughs with you, deep and joyful, and relieved. “There you are. Come along now, dolce.”

“I said, ‘you fluster me’,” you say a little louder, turning to hide your burning cheeks in the crook of his neck. You feel the brush of his lips upon your forehead and you grow quiet, sucking in a short and shaky breath. 

“Thank Satan,” he whispers, lips fluttering against your skin. “I was worried you were falling too close to the edge, and I could not catch you. My only choice, you see, is to fall with you.”

“I don’t want you to fall, Terzo,” your voice is quiet, sad. Your fingers draw through his chest hair, expression thoughtful as you rest skin to skin against him. His fingers copy your movements through your hair, his right hand sliding down to glide a gentle thumb across your cheek. 

“But that is the beauty of our love, is it not? We are clumsy together. We fall. And then we kiss each other’s bruises. They hurt a little less each day. Turn from black to yellow. And then they’re gone. Perhaps we shall look back on them, but they won’t hurt anymore. We will just remember the kiss,” his accented voice, melodic and warm, washes over you like a blanket. 

You start to sit up, Terzo following you, his fingers grasping at your skin. He is nearly desperate for you to understand. To help you through whatever melancholy is stuck to your precious heart. There are many things Terzo would admit to failing at in his lifetime. This would not be one of them. 

“Let me kiss them, amore. Please,” he begs softly, hands at your waist, massaging the soft skin there. “With you is where I am safest. Let me be safe for you.” 

The face of the former antipope in front of you is bare of makeup, his brow furrowed, the divot between his brows deepening every day. Crow's feet stretch from the outer corner of his eyes, marking a path of laughter across his face. Silver cuts through dyed black hair. He is the most beautiful man that you have ever seen. 

“I love you,” you tell him. Honest and hopeful and raw.

Terzo hands are on you, pulling you firmly back into his lap, wrapping arms and legs around you until any outside viewer wouldn’t know where you ended and he began. He’s heaving great breaths, bordering on a sob as he holds you so tightly against his flesh. 

“I love you. I love you. Satana, grazie per questa benedizione. Grazie, grazie,” he whispers fervently, pressing kiss after kiss against your temple, your cheeks, any inch of you he can reach. It has you giggling, and then he laughs too, and you’re both smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. 

“I don’t even remember what I was sad about,” you finally say, looking into his eyes, your lips mere inches of his. Terzo smiles, softer now, sweeter. 

“Exactly,” he whispers.

[serene-sun]

'You can always reach me

You will never ever walk alone' 🦇

Using this to honestly just comfort myself because I’m having the worst month possible. Nevermind today, todays health is falling miserably :(

Copia gently knocked on the bathroom door, “everything ok little one?” He asked softly

You whined, overstimulation taking over as you started to cry.

The ear ache, stomach cramps, the bleeding from your angry uterus, the shakiness of your hands, the weakness to stand and move, the sunburn, the allergic reaction hives across your arms and thighs.

It was all far too much.

“Darling? Ok I’m coming in.” Copia said before pushing open the bathroom door to find you curled up shivering in the corner of the bathtub.

“Is everything ok?” He urgently went to your side as he kneeled down.

“No.” You say honestly, legs quivering twice as much as your voice.

“What’s the issue?” He says, hand on your knee to try and comfort you while still waiting an answer.

“Everything…” you say, head falling to rest against the white tile, “it’s hard to speak.” You say shakily.

“Ok just give me one second,” he looks around the bathroom before grabbing a notepad and pen from your bag you dropped down after getting back to your room. “Eh can you write?” He asks awkwardly

You give him an annoyed look but do your best to take the pen, it takes you three tries to pick it up, just writing two words makes you almost pass out.

“Ok…I think I know what the issue is” he rubs your knees as he realizes the recent behavior changes, it adds up for him.

“This shaking and fatigue, it’s your blood sugar too right? Let me see, I think we have some of your favorite tres leches in the fridge.” He says, getting off his knees as he gently wipes a tear from your face.

After a few minutes, he comes back with a Benadryl, four pads, your iPad, a blanket, a cup of tres leches and strawberries, a bottled water and one of his track suits.

“Ok, can you try to change for me? I know it’s hard but I promise you will feel so much better my little bat.” He smiles softly as he sets the stuff down.

After an attempt of changing, taking a Benadryl and getting comfy with copia in the bathtub; you both watch YouTube on your iPad and eat tres leches as you try to get your blood sugar back up.

[iamthecomet]

hi, do you still take requests? I would love to see some broken limbs related comfort (does that count as a sick fic?). like mountain helping rain walk cus he lost his crutch or cirrus helping cumulus wash her hair since it's hard to do with a cast on her arm. (implying there's a reason they can't insta heal)

I do still take requests! It just sometimes takes me a really long time to get to them. But this one got my brain whirling. I haven't written much (any?) of it in the Ghost fandom but I am a big fan of whump (the injury version of a sick fic). So thank you for giving me an opportunity to inflict some pain (and comfort) on our favorites. Almost 1.2k of Aeon & Swiss hurt/comfort under the cut (no broken bones, because this is what came to me instead).

Aeon loves quintessence. He loves the electric shock of it. The tingling warmth. The way he can ease pain, and loosen muscles with a little press of his fingers. How he chases away Dew's headaches, and Cumulus' lower back pain. How he can loosen up Rain's hips, and Mountain's shoulders with barely a flex of his muscles. The only thing he hates about it, is the limitations. The fact that he can't do it to himself. Can't turn his power around and soothe his own aches. Most of the time, it isn't a problem. He's flexible, loose, spry. His vessel isn't prone to tense muscles or joint pain--maybe a product of his quintessence nature. He doesn't know. What he does know, is he's in agony. Something happened during Square Hammer. He got a little to overzealous with his movements and slipped on errant confetti. Hand coming up to grip the closest thing to him--the edge of Mountain's drum platform. His grip kept him upright, but wrenched on his shoulder as he regained his balence. Forcing an uncomfortable pop in his shoulder that he felt radiate through his entire body. A sickening thud, followed closely by immediate alarm bells in his head. That's not right. Something is wrong. It didn't hurt--not right away. Too caught up in the sudden wrongness of it. Adrenaline, already pumping through him from the show, dumping into his blood at an alarming rate. He thought he was fine. The pain started just before the end of the song. A dull ache radiating across his shoulder. Slowly gaining heat and intensity. Now, he's standing next to Swiss, about to bow, feeling like if he doesn't get off of this stage right now he's going to collapse in front of twenty thousand people. His stomach twists. The pain is bright and not now. Molten. Deep in his shoulder. Moving it, even just a little, raises a strange sense of dread through his body. Like something at the base of his brainstem knows he shouldn't do that. That catastrophe will happen if he does. Fight or flight directed toward his own body--his own pain. He wishes he could run from it. That he could just take off--run fast enough to leave this pain on the stage. Spread out and abandoned. Instead it's all he can do to bow without bursting into tears. When Swiss claps his hand over Aeon's shoulder, he winces. Pain drags up his neck, into his skull. Swiss notices, of course he does. Gaze lingering on Aeon for a second too long. Aeon flushes under his mask--embarassed even though he doesn't know why. He can't see Swiss' eyes but he can picture the way they're narrowing behind those dark lenses. Aeon looks away first, he shrugs it off. He makes it off stage, into the dressing room, and halfway out of his uniform before the trouble really starts. Everything is fine until he goes to pull his compression shirt off. The vest went fine, and the button up shirt beneath. He'd shrugged them off, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. But now--this--fuck. He should have just worn the sleeves tonight. He curses himself, looks at the compression sleeves sitting neglected in his trunk. He thought about it--but after a few shows of constantly having to adjust them back up on his arms he'd opted for the full shirt to save him some aggravation. He swears, under his breath. Glamor rapidly failing him as he feels fangs prick against his lip, and the bite of claws into his palms. He tries to get it under control, grasping at straws for any hint of control, of magic, of relief. "You ok, Bug?" Swiss is gentle this time when he touches Aeon. Avoiding the shoulder all together and opting for a heavy warm palm on his waist. Aeon feels panic crawl up his throat, hot and insistent. Filling him with the need to go. To run. To scream. Instead, he whines. Pain breaking out through his clenched teeth. Swiss stiffens, the usually casual air of his evaporating, replaced with worry. "Aeon." "I did something--my shoulder," Aeon's cheeks get hot, eyes watering. "It's not getting better. And I can't get my fucking shirt off."

"Let me help." Swiss is gentle when he slips his fingers beneath the compression fabric. Aeon allows himself to be undressed--not much else he can do. He can barely lift his arm, but Swiss manages, gentling the fabric of hot swollen flesh and dropping it onto the ground with everything else. "Hurts," Aeon says as Swiss looks at his shoulder--investigating without being asked. Aeon wishes Aether were here, he'd at least talk to him while he did this. He'd make Aeon feel better. Swiss just looks, shifts Aeon's arm this way and that like he knows what he's looking for. "I'm sure it does," Swiss mumbles. Then Aeon feels it--a tiny spark. Quintessence. Just a little. Tenative. Like Swiss isn't used to using it like this. "I'm not Aether, obviously. But I think it's a sprain. You'll be alright." Aeon feels those words somewhere at his core. Solid. True. Maybe it's Swiss' quintessence. The power of suggestion. But he believes him. Even as the pain rages, barely touched by what little quintessence Swiss has given him. He wants to beg for more, he almost does--but Swiss is still talking. "....get you dressed and back to the hotel. I'll take care of you." "You?" Aeon looks up at him. Swiss laughs, lopsided grin finally slotting back into place. "Yeah, me. Why you hoping for someone else to play nurse?" "No! No, I just mean--you're not--I figured you had better things to do. Weren't you and Dew going to go to that bar or something? I'll be ok--" "I know you'll be ok. But I want to help. So let me." Aeon wants to protest. He knows he's a part of this pack as much as anyone else--has never been lead to believe he isn't. But he's still new, still worries that he's one misstep away from being rejected. But Swiss has never given him a reason to think that, and he looks so earnest when he asks. Wearing his glamor. Looking so startlingly human with warm brown eyes and that crooked smile that always makes Aeon's stomach flip. Swiss grabs Aeon's t-shirt and holds it out to him--ready to help, and Aeon sags in resignation. He can do it alone--he can take care of himself and battle through this pain without any help. But why would he want to. "Will you even wash my hair for me?" Aeon asks, half a joke, grinning just for the opportunity to see Swiss grin back. "Maybe," Swiss laughs, helping Aeon into his t-shirt. "But, I might just dose you with enough quintessence to knock you out so I can go party with Dew." "You won't," Aeon says, sure. Feeling lighter despite the pain radiating down his arm and into his fingers. Swiss pulls him close, guides him out of the dressing room with a steady hand on the small of his back. "No," he concedes. "I won't."

[walaskart]

The Routine

1039 words

No warnings: just a simple comfort fic :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And so this was your routine.

Copia, he always insisted you call him Copia instead of Papa, filled with anxiety as if he hasn’t performed multiple, flawless concerts before this has been bugging you all afternoon.

“Cara, what if I fall during a song.”

“You stand up, and continue singing.”

“Mio Cuore, what if the ghouls begin to misbehave?”

“You let them. The fans seem to like that, don’t they?”

“Amore, what if they decide they do not like me?”

“Copia, my dear, I don’t think that will be an issue.”

And with every comment and concern you rub his shoulders, kiss him on the forehead, and assure him that everything will be okay. Copia believes you as if you have the power to pull all the bad things out of the performance and make it perfect. He swears that you do.

After making your way around the city of that night’s performance, you and him both make your way back stage. He has to get ready early for the meet and greets so you go to his dressing room, full of flowers and plushes and gifts adoring fans have both thrown at him and given to him. Copia sits on the couch, back to worrying about what people will think about him when they meet him while you go through his outfits to find his black robes. You help him put it on, making sure his sash is in place and every snap is fastened. Lastly is his skull paint.

This is your favorite part of the routine, just you and him, in two chairs facing each other, perfectly positioned for you to lean in and paint his face. You’ve worked this out, he sits with his legs open while you sit, as close as you can, in between them. First is the white paint, covering most his face except for around the eyes and cheeks where you know the black paint will soon go. Copia keeps his eyes open, watching you while you focus on him. Next is the black paint, his least favorite part because that is when you stop and gently ask, “Copia, close your eyes.” Unable to see, he feels you move the brush around his eyes, getting lost in the sensation. He almost forgets he can open them again when he feels the brush on his cheek.

“Aspettare, mi angelo, wait!” Copia leans away from you, putting a pause on the task at hand.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” As if you don’t already know the answer, as if this doesn’t happen every time.

"How are you supposed to give me my buona fortuna bacio, if my lips are painted?” He smiles, face half-covered in skull paint.

And so you play into this, just like every other night. “I don’t know Copia, how much more luck do you need? You have Satan on your side and a sold out show to stand in front of, full of adoring followers.”

“And yet, Amore, I feel like I have nothing without your kiss.” Copia leans closer and you follow, knowing full well you could never say no to him. You take his face in your hands, not caring about the mess it will make and fully prepared to repaint his whole face if you have to, pull him close, and kiss him softly.

You pull away first after a moment to whisper, “Good luck, Copia.” He smiles, with the light of the stars in his eyes, quickly leans forward again to peck you before you have a chance to move back.

“Grazie, Cara.” You laugh and stand up to find the nearest sink to wash the smeared paint off your hands. After the paint is done, you send him off to his meet and greets, and decide to lay on the couch in his dressing room while you wait.

From there, you hear the first opening band begin their set, close your eyes, and drift asleep to the muffled music. ______________________________________________________________

"Mi amore! Angelo!”

Copia’s voice stirs you from your nap and as your eyes slowly open, you see him sitting next to you, wearing his commander’s outfit.

“Copia, how was it?” Before you get the chance to sit up, he lies next to you, getting as close and comfortable as he can on the small couch. He talks about the people he met, in awe of some of their outfits, makeup, and dedication to him and the band. While he talks, he puts his arm around you, absentmindedly rubbing your back.

After he finishes, you ask him what time it is, knowing full well the second opener is about to finish their set. He seems reluctant to check the clock, and honestly so are you. But you must, so you do what neither of you want to do and get up from the couch and go to check on each ghoul in their respective rooms to make sure everything is in order.

After hearing the call to have everyone take their place on the stage, there’s one last thing to do before you go to the crowd to find your seat. You find Copia, surround by the ghouls in the wings, grab him by the labels of his jacket, and pull him into one last kiss before the show begins. The ghouls smile, rushing on to the stage to take their places. They’ve learned the hard way not to comment or whistle, the first and last time that happened ended in them getting swatted at by you and cursed out in Italian by Copia.

“Good luck, Papa Emeritus the fourth.” This is the only time you call him that, knowing that right now, before he steps on stage, he is filled with confidence and no longer worries about the people who held that name before him. Right now, it is him and it is you and that is all that matters to him. You run away quickly before he can steal another kiss, hurrying to find your seat. By the time you do, Imperium is almost finished, the crescendo rises, and you see the silhouette of a ghoul as he begins to play the first notes of Kaisarion and the crowd begins to scream.

[autumnblooms]

Back on my MountainDew bullshit curtesy of @kroas-adtam ‘s Death of Peace of Mind 👀

[pandasleepy07]

Studying with Alpha

A little blurb to cheer you up @ourfatherwhoartinhell and a good luck to everyone out there dealing with the hell midterms inflict on us

WC: 687

You had been cooped up for hours studying or attempting to. Why was any of this relevant anyway? Most of it was available at your fingertips now anyway. Google held the answers to everything yet the torture of midterms insued. Hell would be more welcoming than this. Or maybe you just had an unhealthy obsession with ghouls. Either way, who is anyone to judge?

Alpha knocked on your door. Normally by this time in the day, you would have come downstairs and joined the ghouls in the common room for a drink and dinner. Yet you hadn’t. The food was almost done and Alpha had growled at everyone, making sure they left you a sizeable portion before platting it and making his way up to your room.

“Go away,” you groaned from your bed. You needed to get this right. You’d spent the last half an hour doing flashcards and getting answers wrong. 

Instead of listening to your demands, Alpha opened the door and stepped in. “You’ve been cooped up in here all day,” his gruff voice fills the room. “You need a break, love.”

You look up, rubbing your face. “What I need is for this to stick.”

“Well why don’t you eat something first and I’ll see if I can help you?” he suggested. You go to open up your mouth to rebuttal but he shuts you down with a look and a few words. “The only words I better be hearing from your pretty little mouth are words of compliance.”

You grumble under your breath but agree silently, holding a hand out for the place. Alpha hands you the food and walks up beside you, gently nudging you off your bed, and motioning to go and sit on the window seat you have as he takes your place. As you do so you watch his big hands flip through your notes, his brow furrowing as he looks it over. You sit down and pick at your food, the anxiety for your midterm coming up gnawing at your stomach.

“Eat,” Alpha grumbles, not even glancing your way.

So you do. It takes slow nibbles and a few sips of tea between bites. You wrinkle your nose when you realize your tea is cold and less than a minute later Earth is slipping into your room with a fresh mug in his hand. It’s steaming and he quietly switches the mugs with a murmured, “This is the new brew. Tested it on Papa earlier when Chain got a little too… Chain and it calmed his nerves. It should do the same for you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, offering him a small smile.

He nods and slips out of the room with a short nod at Alpha who regards the ghoul with a tilt of his head. You go back to eating, taking a slow sip of the tea. It warms your throat and makes it a little easier to eat but the nerves don’t go away instantly. 

Once you finish your food, Alpha looks up from your notes and hums his approval before motioning you to come and sit on the bed. “How about we talk about these topics, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for you to agree before continuing. “You always did do better at remembering things when we talked about them.”

“But my flashcards-”

“Yes, yes, we’ll use them too. But I’m going to need you to explain some of this to me. I’m not a human-ghoul mix like you. I don’t know all of their rules and laws and how they work.”

You huff out a breath but allow him to ask you questions, answering as best as you could. This goes on for hours before the flashcards are dragged out, and Alpha fires question after question at you, barely leaving time for you to think. He flips through each one after you answer without telling you if you got it right or wrong, which is maddening but effective considering by the end of the large pile he’s looking down at you with a proud grin. “That’s a good girl. Got them all right.”

[writingjourney]

how it feels | cardinal copia x reader

summary: You've been struggling with your body image lately, Copia notices and tries to comfort you.

content: 2k words, emotional hurt/comfort, tw for body image issues, reader is gender neutral with no physical descriptions, established loving relationship, Copia is an absolute sweetheart angel baby.

This is absolutely self-indulgent, but I kept it very vague so that it’s as relatable as it can be. It’s more on the emotional side for sure but (I hope) still ends with a positive message. Please don't read this if you’re acutely triggered by negative self talk.

Ao3 link – Masterlist

It happens by chance.

You have been avoiding the big, ornate mirror in your room for a few days now, pretending to wear blinkers. If you weren’t sharing a bedroom with Copia, you might have covered it with a sheet. But this morning, as your love gets ready for work, humming to himself in the bathroom, you can’t find your habit. Panicked that you can’t immediately cover yourself, you start a frantic search and your gaze gets caught by the reflection of your hectic movements. Your eyes meet your full-length mirror image, not the small one you’re used to seeing in the bathroom, and it’s like looking at a stranger. For a second you’re in shock, wondering who this body you feel so unfamiliar with belongs to. But then you realise that it’s yours. Instead of walking away, your eyes focus on every single part of it and the vile thoughts that enter your brain meet you like old friends.

You know the image in your head, the view in the mirror and your real body are three separate things. You know that what you’re seeing is distorted by the pain and self-loathing you’ve been harbouring for the past week. And yet no rational thought fully settles in. They pass, they don’t even puncture the disgust you feel.

You startle when you feel two strong arm wrap around your midsection, when the smell of freshly-applied cologne hits your nose. Copia pulls you into his chest and it takes you every ounce of restraint not to flinch back, not to fight your way out of his arms and hide like a wounded animal.

“Hmm, you look beautiful today, amore,” he whispers, then stamps a wet kiss to your cheek. “You always do.”

The disconnect between his reaction and your own perception is enough to make you frown. Copia’s eyes widen, like he’s afraid he said something wrong. He stares at you in the mirror and he must see the tears that colour your eyes red.

“Car-"

You slip out of his grasp, in search for the habit. It sits on a chair next to the bed, waiting for you, your saving grace. But before you can pull it over your head, Copia takes your arm, gently holds it in his strong grasp.

“I need to get ready.”

“Something is wrong, amore,” he states. “You are upset.”

“I need to get dressed, Copia.”

He shakes his head vehemently, nearly dropping his red biretta. “Is it about last night? You said you were tired, too.”

“I know. I was.”

You truly were. But if you’re being honest, exhaustion was not the reason you were glad that he didn’t initiate anything last night. There is no way you would be able to let go right now, to allow yourself any pleasure.

 “I know, I have been busy lately, we did not have much time for… for intimacy.” His thumb rubs a slow circle over your wrist. “But that does not mean I desire you any less. Ti amo, ti desidero, con tutto il cuore. Always.”

His words caress the wounds on your soul. But even so they can’t heal them, not after you ripped them open for days. “I know.” You try to force out a smile. “It’s okay, really. You did nothing wrong.”

“Che cos’è? You are almost crying, amore. I don’t believe it. You don’t even say you love me back.”

You desperately want to, you wish you could find words for him. But instead you vaguely shrug, not sure what to tell him for fear of lying, of abusing his trust. You stare at his hand on your arm. Even though his grip is loose now the black leather of his gloves makes it look almost violent. As if he has the same thought he moves his hand down in favour of linking your fingers together. You wish he would just let it go, that his touch wouldn’t make it all worse, even with the leather as a barrier. How is he not repulsed, how would he willingly be close to you?

“Maybe I am a little upset,” you admit, finally.

“With me?”

His soft voice breaks your heart. You look up at him and see the insecurities plainly written on his face. Of course he assumes that he is the reason. Even now, after being together for so long, he is still so scared of messing up.

You squeeze his hand. “No, not with you. Never with you. I do love you back, so much.”

His shoulders visibly relax and he pulls his brows up into a pleading look. “Can I hug you?”

Despite feeling so ashamed, so miserably vulnerable, you nod. You cannot refuse him, no matter how scared you are of what his touch will do to you. So you wrap your arms around his neck, feel him sink into you. The fabric of his cassock is stiff, hiding the shape of his body and making you feel even more naked. His hands rest on your bare skin, the leather warm as his fingers spread over the small of your back. You feel his warm cheek on yours, the only true skin contact, his sideburns tickling when he nuzzles your neck with a deep sigh.

“Tell me why you are so sad, amore,” he whispers. “Help me understand.”

You know you would never have told him if you’d had to look at his face. But here, hidden in his embrace, your senses busy taking in his scent, his warmth, you feel infinitely safer. Completely filled with the affection you don’t feel like you deserve, you whisper your question. “Copia, do you think I’ve changed?”

He lets go just enough to look at you. “Changed how?”

You shrug, averting your gaze as you fiddle with the buttons just below his neck. “Changed… physically?”

“Your body?”

“Mhm.”

He frowns and you regret the question. This must seem so trivial to him, so pointless. He may not be able to see any changes, he may not even have payed attention, so swamped with work and more important things to worry about.

“I don’t think so,” he finally says. “Did I miss something? You did not get a haircut? New clothes?”

“No. No, that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, amore?”

You fight back tears. Satanas, you feel pathetic, so embarrassed by the situation. How is he still asking? How is he not giving up and telling you to get a grip, that he needs to go to work? You cannot help but feel a bit crushed, undeserving of this love that he has for you, of his patience, all the comfort he offers. You wish you could love yourself like he loves you, be gentle and kind with your body.

Copia takes your chin between his fingers and gently tilts your head up. 

“You know I think you are bellissimo?” he asks. “That you are a gift, not only for my eyes but for my soul?”

You close your eyes, trying to let his words sink in. “Yes. Yes, I know.”

He clicks his tongue. “No, you forgot. I made you forget because I was so busy. I did not love you enough.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not a lack of compliments or displays of affection, not when he seems so happy to have found a solution. How could you explain that you’re just messed up sometimes? Maybe it is unfair to let him try, to exploit his affections. You can’t let him think he’s lacking in any way.

“You did, you alway love me enough. You–“

“No, it is alright.” Copia shakes his head. “I will make it better, amore.”

His soft, plump lips press against yours. Before you can reciprocate, he moves them to your jaw, to your neck, featherlight touches that make you shiver. For as long as his body covers yours, they feel wonderful, but then he lets you go and you’re exposed again. Copia sinks down before you and his lips dance all over your chest, leaving a trail of black lipstick.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against your sternum. “Sono tanto fortunato.”

His words, as genuine as they may be, ring hollow. Your mind is telling you that he’s lying. That he can’t possibly mean any of it. He’s saying it because he has to, because he wants to cheer you up, because he is kind and generous like that.

“Tesorino, sei tutto per me. More than I could ever deserve.”

His hands trail down your sides as he kisses your belly, moving down to your navel. That’s when you tense up completely. You can’t take it, it’s like he’s trying to extinguish a flame by adding more fuel. His words, his kisses, his obvious display of his undying devotion, they are too heavy.

“Stop,” you say, barely able to breathe out the words. “Please.”

He looks up at you in utter confusion, chin resting against your stomach. “Amore?”

“I’m sorry,” you blubber out. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can do this right now.”

“Nonono.” He moves his hands up and down the backs of your thighs. “I am just trying to show you how beautiful you are. How much I adore you. We don’t have to do anything.”

“That’s not it. Its’ just…” You feel the first full tear rolling down your cheek. “I don’t think I can believe any compliments right now. They are wasted on me. You are wasted on me.”

You can practically see his heart break at your words and you cry silently – for yourself and for him. 

“What are you saying, tesoro?”

You know the question is rhetorical. He perfectly understands. “You deserve so much better, my love.”

He stands up and you watch as he takes off his gloves. With his now bare hands, he cradles your face, wipes the tears away. He’s too slow to catch them all and you wish he would not have to see you cry, he would not see you puffy and pathetic. But you are too weak to move, too weak to fight him when your whole body and your very soul are so desperate, so hungry for his love.

“Can you feel this?” he asks. “How my hands feel on you?”

You nod and he strokes your cheeks. He is so gentle, his fingertips massaging your skin like he’s trying to rub the sadness out of you.

“When I touch you, do you think about how it looks or how it feels?”

“How it feels.”

He brings his face closer, waits for you to flinch, to pull back. But you don’t. So he kisses you, firmly, tenderly, and beneath the salty tears you can taste his love for you.

Ever so patient, he doesn’t pull away. His lips linger, barely grazing yours, as he whispers against your mouth. “And when I kiss you, what do you think about, amore?”

“How good it feels.”

Copia smiles, a pained but beautifully heartbreaking smile. “What about when we make love? What do you think about then?”

“I think about how much I love you, how good you make me feel.”

“Me too. It’s all I think about when we’re together. But it is more of a feeling than a thought. You agree?”

Again, you nod and he nuzzles your nose, keeps his hands on your head. He pushes them into your hair, angles your head up just slightly so that he can kiss the tears from your cheeks. For the first time today you don’t want to leave your body, you want to stay exactly where you are.

“If you cannot believe my words, then maybe you can accept my affection? My love?” he asks. “Can you accept that it is not tied to your body but to all of you, even the things you cannot love about yourself?”

You take a shuddering breath. “I don’t know, Copia.”

“Let us try, amore. Let us try every day to love each other the best we can, sì? To focus on how good it feels?”

You hum in agreement and he hugs you again, pulls you so close that you barely even feel your body anymore, just him and what he does to you. Maybe you can accept his love, even if you are not always capable of understanding it. And maybe by loving him with all your heart you can find a way to extend that love to yourself as well. One day.

Thank you for reading! I hope you're feeling okay and that this story helped a little bit – and if not, my inbox is always open. Take care now, I love you, I like you. Get sleep, get well etc etc ♡

[darkhairedmenrule]

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO its tony

man

would you be oh so kind as to make an

papa's x gn reader with fluff :)))))))))))

pretty please with gay men on top

Comfort time with the Papas

These are just little comfort headcanons that I came up with, this should be gn! reader because I don't mention any pronouns. I hope you like them Tony <3 All of these are romantic but if anyone wants a platonic or spicy version let me know. Please be gentle, this is my first Ghost fic. Enjoy!

Primo- With Primo, I imagine you two often peacefully coexist in his garden. Whether it be that he is teaching you how to garden and the differences in all of his plants, or you already know about gardening and he trusts you to help. These early mornings or evenings allow you both to just spend time together without having to fill the silence. You always make sure that he actually takes breaks and doesn't push himself too far. You guys only work for maybe an hour or so, nothing strenuous, and after you walk back to your shared rooms hand in hand. After you guys clean up, sharing sweet kisses or hugs depending on what you are comfortable with, he asks you if you want a drink. If you are a tea person, he makes you an absolutely lovely cup of tea ( from leaves that he grew himself, we love a girlboss). If you aren't a tea person he will make you anything that you want, even learn how to make your favorite drink. With your drinks, you cuddle either in bed with a good book or watch a movie that you both like.  All in all, you both enjoy a sweet calm evening after your long often hectic days. He always is generous with his affection, whether that be kisses and cuddling or letting you talk and being there for you physically and emotionally. Primo just wants his darling to be happy and healthy and will do anything to make that happen( even if you have to convince him to get a TV or any new technology in his room). He is simply grateful and honored that he gets to share these sweet moments with you and to let his heart be full of love and affection. Primo is a sweetheart and I just wanna kiss his forehead <3

Secondo- With Secondo, I imagine that he is used to filling his free time with carnal acts of all kinds, which is perfectly fine but we are not focusing on that today. I think that like his older brother, Secondo would crave domestic normalcy and would never pass it up. I imagine you found out about his hobby after he realized that you were interested in more than one night with him. I can see you finding his paintings and asking him if it would be okay if you joined him, and of course, he would want you to join him. He may be more stoic in some aspects than his brothers, but this man has so much affection to give you. Regardless of your skill level, he is going to treasure any and every painting you make with him. I can imagine him either keeping them in your shared room or creating a little gallery that he keeps on his phone( yes he has one but you might have to help him with it sometimes). After you guys have decided to finish painting one evening, you guys clean up and he offers to make you a drink. If you aren't a big fan of alcohol, he has different mocktails, Italian sodas, or anything else you would like. You two would probably cuddle up on the couch or in bed, either enjoying each other's company with a good book, listening to music, or maybe even a movie. Secondo is happy to share the evening with you in any way that you want. He simply just loves to bask in the sweet affection that you two share and remind himself that he deserves this love <3

Terzo- I imagine that quality time with Terzo can be many things. Like his older brother, he enjoys carnal acts, but also just existing together. I imagine that you two would spend some of your free time baking together. Terzo may be clumsy at times but he enjoys baking, especially if he has a personal taste tester. He would love to have you help him or just simply watch him enjoy his process. He loves to fill the time by asking you about your day, what you are excited or upset about, and anything that you would like to talk about. During all of it, he just has a sweet love drunk smile on his face. When whatever he was making is finally ready for you both to eat, he makes sure to give you the first bite, and he wants you to be honest about the taste, texture, and overall experience. He is extremely interested in your thoughts and loves to hear you in general. He always makes sure to take note of your criticism or praise so that if he ever recreates or remakes anything it is the same quality or better. After you two have shared your little treat, he likes to make you a hot chocolate. I know he might not seem like the type, but I know in my heart that he enjoys hot cocoa. Makes it from scratch every time and uses the same recipe that Primo used when he and Secondo were little. Adds any toppings that you like to yours and insist that he made it with love. You both cuddle and enjoy your delicious hot cocoa with either him reading you a book, you reading him one, enjoying some music, or a movie that you enjoy. He adores these evenings where you both can be yourselves, with no expectations or chores to do. You both just get to be close and love each other and know that you are cherished by your beloved Papa <3

Copia-  With Copia, I just have to mention his beloved rat babies. If you are in love with Copia I just imagine you spending the little downtime he allows himself to be with his sweet fur babies. You two are just sitting with them all, giving them the love, treats, and attention that each little cutie deserves. He loves this, he gets to not only decompress and relax with his Amore but he also gets to be with his beloved pets. The rats all have their personalities and love to run around you both, so happy that you are home. If you wear hoodies or =clothing with bigger pockets they love to crawl in and take little naps with their beloved parents because congratulations you are the co-parent to these little rats. After they have their food, cuddles, zoomies, and a few snacks they go back into their cage to rest and cuddle with each other. With your kids all in bed, you both get ready for bed yourselves. You either help Copia with his Papal paints if he hasn't already taken them off or maybe take a quick shower together or separately. Either way, when you both are ready to relax for the evening you grab some of Copia's beloved Juice boxes and relax in bed. Whether your evening ends with playing some video games, watching him play or you both playing, watching a movie, or just cuddling in bed before you sleep, Copia reminds you just how much he adores you. This is where he can let himself be Copia, not just Papa and he is so grateful that you see the real him. He loves to spend his evenings with his favorite person, all cuddled up and cozy in bed, knowing that he is loved and adored.<3

[ghulehunknown]

Clergy Headcanons - Proposals!

Rated G - Purely fluff! Gender neutral reader

How I think the head members of the Clergy would propose to you 😌

(inspired by Älva’s Papa engagement ring post!)

Primo

Very romantic

He asked a parental figure/someone important in your life for your hand (well, at least told your loved one(s) beforehand to give a semblance of traditionality)

Plans a picnic with all your favorite foods, and he brought your favorite roses and other pretty flowers from his garden. He actually secretly grew a special engagement bouquet just for you!

He doesn’t get down on one knee because of his arthritis, but proposes while you’re both sitting down

The ring is very traditional and likely passed down for generations in his family. He’s been waiting a whole lifetime to give it to you 🥺

Secondo

Whatever he has planned, it’s completely with your personality in mind - whether you are more inclined for something quiet or a something with a little more opulence

But it’s probably something a little more lowkey, like after a lovely dinner that he cooks for you. He may not be one for grand gestures but he does know how to make you feel very special

He has a very romantic, although not super long, speech before he gets down on one knee and hands you the most wonderful ring you’ve ever seen

The ring is beautiful, but dark - much like him. It’s probably got some black star sapphires in it or something, and the band is made from tungsten or titanium because it’s durable and lasting like his love for you

Terzo

He…may or may not have proposed impulsively one evening after a date because he got excited…then remembered he’s Terzo and vows to do better with a surprise later. (Eloping isn’t out of the question for him)

He plans a grand day out doing all your favorite activities before coming back to the Ministry which is decorated to the max and all your loved ones are there in attendance

He gets down on one knee and gives an elaborate, moving speech and promises you the world

The ring is GORGEOUS and extravagant and must’ve cost a fortune. But your love is priceless, so a silly little price tag doesn’t stop him (don’t worry, he paid full price and didn’t use the Papa discount; he makes sure you know that)

He definitely planned a flashmob for you with Siblings and Ghouls dressed in tuxedos and wedding dresses, but waves them off after he sees how overcome with emotion you are

Can’t wait for you to see the second part…alone in his room, because you have to “christen the engagement”

Copia

Oh god he’s nervous AF, he’s sweating and stumbling. He doesn’t want to mess this up because he’s been planning it for a long time. He knew you were the one the day he met you

He takes you back to the spot you had your first date. You can tell something is up because he’s acting a little funny

He definitely messes up his little speech he has prepared but he says something like: “You will never walk alone”

He’s so, so sweet and everything is perfect no matter how nervous you both are 🥺

He gets down on one knee and everything and you feel like the most special person in the world, because to him you are

He gives you a traditional, but absolutely beautiful ring. It’s probably got diamonds or your birthstone in it. He’s not a fully traditional man, but for things as important as this he doesn’t want to miss a beat

He’s ready to start planning the wedding!

Nihil

“Here,” and hands you the ring

He probably proposes immediately after you have an argument in attempt to makeup and show you he still wants you

The ring is simple, but durable. It’s probably solid gold, because to him you’re golden

Afterwards he takes you out to your favorite restaurant then a drive in movie (it reminds him of the good ol’ days)

Sister Imperator (bonus round!)

Very methodical and planned to a T

Lots of beautiful decorations

The speech is simple and to the point, as she often is, so there’s really no way to get lost in flowery language. You know what she wants, and it’s you and her forever

“We would be good together, don’t you think?” she’d say with her all-knowing smirk

She hands you a sturdy stainless steel ring and got herself one to match

[dewedup]

Hi dear friend 💙

How about..."if you could only see yourself the way I do, you wouldn't feel this way" with my sweet sweet Rulti boys.

Besos!😘

sorry this ended up taking me a little mac, i love how your brain works and i hope i did it justice 🖤

please enjoy 1k of sad, angsty rain and swiss breaking through the pain 🥰

Rain’s hands travel the skin of his neck exploratorily, fingers brushing over the slightly protruding gills on either side of his neck. They are a light-blue colour and stand out compared to the greyish-blue tone of his skin like a sore thumb. He knows that logically, Dew used to have the very same identifying features of a water ghoul. That you can still see the shiny, silvery scars if you look hard enough. 

Sometimes he even catches Dew being slightly oversensitive to the area still, releasing a soft gasp when they’re touched the right way, flinching when he’s grabbed a little too roughly around the neck. Rain sympathizes, and knows the feeling well himself. It’s an interesting flaw in the design of water ghouls, having such a vulnerable area highlighted like a bullseye for all predators to see. To be totally at someone’s mercy if they touch them just right.

That’s not the part that really bothers Rain though, just something he thinks of once in a while. If he one day had an audience with Lucifer, he’d probably bring it up. Workshop some ideas with the Unholy One. 

No, what bothers Rain is that he’s the only ghoul with these outward markings. Air ghouls get to walk a little lighter. Their hair floats perfectly around them, like they’re perpetually on a cloud. Quintessences have captivating purple irises that seem to glow in the dark. Dew’s eyes hold a similar power, coupled with the fact that he always runs hotter than any other being Rain has had the pleasure of getting close to. Even Mountain grows cute little flowers on his body, for fucksakes. Don’t even get him started on multi ghouls. They’re heartbreakingly gorgeous, taking every positive aspect of their mixed elements and crafting perfection. He’s almost positive that if he looked at Swiss too long, he’d go blind. 

And here’s Rain, with these stupid fucking gills. 

The ones that decorate his ribcage are fine, easily hidden and if that’s the only place he had them he wouldn’t complain too badly. But the neck? Impossible to casually hide. It’s the only thing he sees in the mirror when he’s brave enough to look, the bright tone catching his eyes immediately. He feels like a lesser ghoul, unevolved, unrefined in a way. 

When he’s feeling particularly hideous, he’ll exert enough effort to glamour the area. Coincidentally, it’s more work to disguise just one part of his body instead of a full glamour. But he’s stubborn, will spend the whole day on edge and fall into bed exhausted after trying to conceal the ugliest part of him from view. 

He’s still standing in front of his vanity, hands to his neck, when the door to his room is thrown open.

“Rain! Dew and Phantom challenged us to a…” Swiss’ voice trails off as he watches Rain grip his neck self-consciously. It’s too much, the beautiful golden eyes of the multi ghoul staring right at his most vulnerable area, his gaze calculating as he takes in the scene before him. Rain’s hackles rise. The surprise mixing with the self-hatred he’s been soaking in creates an explosive reaction inside him.

“Did no one fucking teach you how to knock?” Rain spits, venom lacing his tone as he drops his hands, quickly pushing a glamour out to cover his gills. Swiss flinches visibly at the words, his eyes narrowing as his gaze still lingers on Rain’s neck. Silence eats at him, unshed tears pushing their way to his eyes. No, he cannot cry right now. He’s just angry, he just needs Swiss to leave. 

“Rain,” Swiss ventures, taking slow steps towards him. He lifts his hands, palms raised towards the water ghoul like he would a wounded animal. Rain stumbles backwards, bracing his hands on the vanity behind him. 

“Get the fuck out Swiss,” Rain’s voice cracks on the multi ghoul’s name, the anger evaporating as quickly as it comes. A single tear trails its way down his cheek. Swiss is unfazed by the quickly shifting moods, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them. Rain stiffens as he’s pulled close by a hand wrapping around his waist, leaving the comfort of the sturdy vanity behind him. Swiss reaches up with his other hand, his thumb brushing against Rain’s cheek to catch the stray tear. 

Rain’s entire body slumps, the last few lingering impulses to fight dissipating. 

“Show me, love.” Swiss whispers and Rain feels completely exposed under the golden gaze burning into him. He knows exactly what Swiss wants, debates playing dumb, but Swiss’ face is earnest, affection carved into every faint line or wrinkle. With a heavy sigh, he drops the glamour, his eyes sliding shut as he tries to hide from his own wicked thoughts. 

He doesn’t see Swiss move closer, only letting out a soft gasp as his lips press light kisses along the gills on the right side of his neck. Never pushing too hard. If Rain wasn’t hyperaware of every single thing happening currently, he might even miss the soft caresses on his sensitive skin. Swiss switches to the other side, supplying the same gentle affection to the neglected gills. 

“You’re absolutely gorgeous Rainbow,” Swiss pulls back, waiting for Rain to open his eyes before he speaks next. It’s a battle, the water ghoul fighting back tears as he cracks his eyes to peek at Swiss. The love and adoration displayed blatantly on his face punches a soft sob out of Rain’s mouth. 

Swiss coos and shushes him, pulling Rain tight to his chest, guiding his head to nuzzle in the crook of his neck. His warm hands rub comforting circles into Rain’s back as he shudders, tears falling to stain Swiss’ white t-shirt. It’s a few minutes before Rain’s breath evens out, eyes sore from crying, body exhausted, using every bit of strength Swiss offers to hold him up. 

“If you could only see yourself the way I do,” Swiss whispers, pressing soft kisses to the side of Rain’s head as he squeezes the water ghoul a little tighter. “You wouldn’t feel this way.” 

And Rain thinks, for Swiss, maybe he could try. 

[leezlelatch]

Comfort From The Eldest

This is something I've had in my drafts forever. It was written after I had a really harsh interaction with a coworker, and I hope that it provides the same level of comfort to you as it did for me when I was having difficulties. Female reader. Fluff, comfort, protective papas.

Primo 

You almost feel ridiculous for being upset. It’s not like you did anything. It was the other party. But you feel awful. Every part of that conversation is ringing in your head and won’t let go. Someone took their anger out on you because they were hurting, you realize that. You know they didn’t actually mean it, but you can’t help the hurt that’s sitting in your gut like a rock. 

You sigh as you sink into Primo’s preferred chair in his little observatory. His telescope sits mounted beside it, eye toward the heavens. Maybe you should take a peak. Look at something beyond you, bigger than you, to make your problems seem smaller than they are. 

“Petal?” Primo’s deep voice echoes through the space, startling you. 

You look up to see him standing inside the doorway. He holds a book to his side, his other hand carrying a cup of tea which steams into the air. His reading glasses sit perched on his hooked nose. He isn’t wearing his paints, his wrinkled and hawk-like features on display for your weary eyes. Primo’s beauty is a balm. 

“I am surprised to see you here, sweet petal, but nonetheless delighted,” he continues, sweeping into the room to set his cup down on a pretty flower doily on the surface of his desk. “It does an old man’s heart good to see his preziosa.”

“I like it here…this is your space,” you say softly. 

“You know you are welcome at all-,” he pauses as he turns away from his desk, his eyes sweeping over your form. 

“What happened?” His tone has changed immediately. It’s sharp, coiled, ready to strike. 

“What do you mean?” You try to laugh it off, your lips curling into a smile, but to your own ears it sounds hollow. 

Primo moves toward you in a way that sends a shiver straight down your spine. It’s quick, straight, so unlike his usual unhurried gait brought on by age. He kneels beside the chair with no more than a small huff and takes your hands, his eyes searching yours. The white of his left eye looks narrowed, as if it sees more than you can comprehend. 

“You look so sad, amore mio. Your Papa may be old, my darling, but he is not blind. I know every tick of that beautiful face.” 

Your eyes burn and you try to look away, but long fingers capture your chin, keeping your gaze. Primo’s expression melts into a soft smile, his fingers sliding up to trace the curve of your cheek. You immediately crumble and tell him everything, the former Papa wildly attentive. He squeezes your hand when you begin to choke up, he nods along with your words, and he never interrupts you. 

Primo pats your legs when you finish, “Up, petal,” he says, waiting for you to move so he can sink down into his chair with a soft groan. He holds out his arms and you gently fall into his lap. He nuzzles into the side of your head for a moment before reaching out toward his telescope. 

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. He peaks into the lens, adjusting it here and there before a satisfied “ah!” leaves his lips. “There we are, petal, look here.” 

You look at him for a moment, his smile encouraging, before you look through the lens. You see a beautiful star, shining in the sky, likely thousands of light years away. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say, smiling at him. 

“It’s you,” he says. “I named it after you. After my brightest star, who brings me happiness beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Who is kind, loving, and clever. Unfortunately, she has to put up with un vecchio coglione.” 

“Oh, hush,” you laugh through a fresh bout of tears. “Primo…” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his lips. 

“I love you,” you say. 

“And I love you. Now…tell me who this…bastardo was again?” 

Secondo 

Secondo sits wearily at his desk, gazing down at the report from the recent restoration project of artifacts found within an abbey in the mountains of Italy which possibly point to an early Satanic organization the current institution can draw roots from. The name Emeritus appears on a portrait of a man dressed in a bastardized version of medieval Catholic vestments, and Secondo is heading the preservation and research project to determine whether the man is an ancestor of the Emeritus line or if the name merely signifies the man's retired position. 

A hesitant knock on his door tumbles Secondo from his thoughts and he gazes with a heavy brow at the dark oak, willing it not to open, but after several seconds, the knock comes again, and he blows out a breath between his teeth in frustration.

"Enter." 

The door creaks open, and Secondo need only see the sleeve of your sweater before his body is relaxing, a pleased smile crossing his features as you come further into view, peeking behind the door with those eyes which captivate him wholly, and that mischievous little smile the man greatly enjoys kissing from your face. 

"Enter? That tone says otherwise," you tease, slipping into the room and shutting the door firmly behind you. 

Secondo harrumphs, tilting his head back a little, pinning you to the spot with his heavy gaze that never fails to send a thrill shooting from your heart to...well, other more enjoyable places.

"Perhaps I do not wish to be disturbed, la mia piccola interruzione," he says.

The shining look in your eyes is snuffed out in an instant, your body growing taut with anxiety. He watches with muted horror as you practically curl into yourself, your feet already moving you back toward his office door, your hands wringing fretfully in front of you.

"Am I really disturbing you? I'm so sorry, Papa," you say in a tone Secondo never wishes to hear again. Full of diffidence and self-doubt.

His chair hits the wall behind him when he stands up, his robes fluttering around his form as he quickly rounds his desk. Fingers desperately reach for you, a panicked look in the usually stoic Papa's eyes as he draws you into his embrace, his hands cradling your head to his chest for a moment before he's tilting it back, his palms smoothing back your hair while he searches your gaze for any hint to your distress. Your façade quickly crumbles, tears springing to your eyes, and you attempt to turn from him, but Secondo's hands hold fast, not allowing you to break from his gaze, from his hold. 

He would hold you forever. 

"Tell me. Tell me, il mio tutto. What has happened? You know I would never," Secondo pauses and sighs, closing his eyes. "I must be more mindful of my words. You are not just a Sibling or a member of the Clergy, you are my life. Perdonami." 

"It's okay, Seco, I'm just being ridiculous," you say with a tearful grimace, shrugging your shoulders as you look to the side. 

Secondo makes a low hum, drawing you even closer, wrapping the heavy cloth of his chasuble around you. You are immediately enveloped in his warmth and his scent, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder. He keeps you near, quietly, for a moment, gently swaying as a torrent of thoughts passes his mind. He sighs softly and shifts so you are looking into his eyes once more. 

"You, amore mio, are not ridiculous. You are the very joy in my heart. You are the warmth of the sun on my skin. I should not speak to you in any manner but that of love," he says.

Your brow furrows for a moment and then clears, realization dawning in your eyes, "Oh, Secondo, I'm not upset over what you said. I mean, yes, I was afraid I was disturbing you, but that's...someone upset me earlier. I was already feeling unwanted anyway, and..."

Secondo's pupils narrow and he cocks his head to the side, a cold smile spreading his lips as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

"Come, dolcezza," he guides you to sit in the chair before his desk. "Sit here, and tell your Papa exactly who hurt you and where to find them."

“I love you, but that won’t solve anything,” you sigh, settling into the chair. Secondo sits on the arm, towering over you and creating a blanket with his presence. He reaches out a hand to idly play with your hair while gazing down at you with an unreadable expression, his jaw clenching. 

“What I need to solve is this issue you have brought to my attention. That you believe you are unwanted,” Secondo shivers at the thought, his hand falling to your shoulder and gripping it as if to keep him anchored. “I have done you a great disservice, and I have failed you as a partner in not addressing this sooner.”

You surge forward to protest, but Secondo silences you by cradling the back of your head and pushing you into his lap, resting your head against his thigh as he continues to speak. “I love you. Perhaps I do not say it enough, but I have never known such happiness other than the precious moments we have spent together. You have given an old man hope. I want you. I need you. I think about you and crave your touch when we are not together. I ache to hold you, to look into your beautiful eyes, that sweet face. Please, amore mio, my everything, do not think you are unwanted. I am nothing without you.”

You take in a shaky breath, your fingers gripping his chasuble, as you whisper your love to him in a voice thick with tears. Secondo cups your chin and lifts your head from his lap, his smile soft, but eyes sharp as a knife. 

“Now, be a good girl and tell your Papa where to find the fool who hurt il mio tesoro?” 

“What if it’s my own brain?” You ask with a weak laugh. 

Secondo leans down to place a featherlight kiss to your lips. “Then I will fight it with patience, love, and the stubbornness of an old man.” He winks. “I’ve been fighting mine for years.”

[iamthecomet]

mometttttt

can we get some fluffy phantom swiss??

feeling sad and wanting some comfort 🥺

maybe trans phantom dealing with painful cramps and swiss being there and being the amazing boyfriend he is and comforting phantom through the cramps?

Of course, Chase! I'm sorry that you're feeling sad. I hope this helps. Sending you lots of hugs too.

Just under 1k words of Trans!Aeon/Swiss. SFW. Just mentions of period cramps. ♥

Aeon wakes up in agony. Pain lancing through his belly, down his thighs, through his back. He curls in on himself. Knees drawing up tight to his chest. He wraps his arms around them, holds on tight as the wave of pain intensifies. Digs it’s claws in. 

It’s so early. The sun is barely up. Streaking pink into the hotel room. Aeon had hoped for a day to sleep in. For the opportunity to luxuriate in bed next to Swiss on an off day. Peace. Comfort. 

He should have known better than to hope for anything. 

He breathes a little easier as the pain eases. He doesn’t loosen his grip on his legs though. He knows it’ll be back before long, it always is. He thinks about stumbling to the bathroom–at least to make sure he hasn’t made a mess of himself. But it feels impossible. More work than his aching limbs can handle. 

He lays there for awhile, listening to Swiss’ soft snores. Feeling the warmth of him radiating from the other side of the bed. He opens his eyes and looks around the pre-dawn hotel room. Shadowy, still a mess from when they fell into bed last night. Half-eaten room service near the door. Their bags thrown on the other side of the room. Aeon thinks about the medicine stuffed in there. Some tea Mountain made for him that always seems to help. 

He makes a plan. If he’s fast enough he can at least get to the bathroom and grab the tea before the next cramp hits. He can probably just rip the bag open with his teeth and eat the contents right? That will do the same thing? The idea of waiting for hot water from the weird coffee machine is impossible. Besides he barely knows how to work them on a good day. 

Humans really do make everything needlessly complicated. 

He could ask Swiss, but the multighoul is sleeping so soundly next to him, he doesn’t want to disturb him. They’ve been traveling so much, barely sleeping. Aeon doesn’t want to be the reason Swiss doesn’t get enough sleep. 

He starts to push himself up, to uncurl. He gets as far as straightening his legs and pushing the blanket off before it hits him again. He swears he feels it in his bones. Dull insistent fire crawling through his body. He bites his lip until he tastes blood and even that isn’t enough to bury his whimper. 

He bites down on his tail to try to muffle it, but Swiss wakes up anyway. Making a low groggy noise, confused as he rolls towards Aeon’s body. Curled up tight on the edge of the bed. Swiss’ hand is warm and broad on his back. A grounding weight. Swiss eases himself up, folds himself over Aeons’ body to look at him. 

“Bug? You ok?” 

Aeon looks up at him, Swiss’ eyes are sleep lined, barely open. But his dark brows are twisted in concern. The hand is on his hip now, heavy. Solid. Aeon swallows, he intends to nod, to tell Swiss to go back to sleep. But his body betrays him, he shakes his head. 

“Cramps,” he mumbles in explanation. He doesn’t want Swiss to worry–there’s really nothing to worry about. He’s fine. 

He crumples beneath another cramp. Tears pricking at his eyes. He turns enough that he can cling to Swiss. Now that he’s here and awake, Aeon can’t do anything else. He buries his face in Swiss’ chest and inhales the smell of him. Sweat and weed and sandlewood. He closes his eyes tight and tries not to cry as Swiss pulls him close, cradles Aeon’s little body against his. 

Swiss kisses him between his horns, runs a comforting hand up and down his spine. Tangles the other in his hair, runs his fingers through it. He scratches at Aeon’s scalp until Aeon’s body goes lax as the cramp ebbs. 

“What can I do?” Swiss asks, lips brushing over the curve of Aeon’s horn. 

“The tea Mountain made me.” 

“Where is it, baby?” 

“Front pocket of my bag.” 

Swiss untangles himself from Aeon. Aeon lays back on the bed, flat on his back. Tears burning against his cheeks. He hears Swiss rifling around in his bag. Hears the water run. Hears Swiss messing with that weird coffee maker. 

“I hate this,” Aeon says softly. 

“I know.” 

“Just wanted to sleep in with you,” Aeon mumbles, voice cracking. 

The coffee maker hisses, Aeon hears it spit water out into the styrofoam cup. Swiss is back right away. Helping Aeon sit up and pressing the overly hot cup into his hand. The smell of the tea alone makes something in Aeon’s back loosen. 

He sips at it–it’s too hot but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t want to wait any longer. 

“We can still sleep in,” Swiss promises. Leaning over to kiss Aeon’s temple. “Sleep all day if you want.” 

Swiss curls one big arm around Aeon’s waist, pulls him close. The little ghoul leans against him. Eyes closing against another cramp. Swiss takes the cup from him so Aeon doesn’t spill. He presses his lips to the side of Aeon’s head, holds him close as the pain ravages him. 

When it’s done, Swiss hands the cup back to him. “Drink up so we can go back to sleep.” 

“I–” Aeon looks away, lilac blush coloring his cheeks. “I think I should take a shower first..” 

Swiss shrugs, buries his nose in Aeon’s hair and inhales. “Fine. Shower first. Sleep after. All day. No excuses.” 

Aeon turns his head to catch his lips on Swiss. It’s chaste, as easy as breathing. “Too good to me,” Aeon mumbles as he brings the cup back up to his mouth. Swiss grins down at him. “No such thing.” 

[saruman-the-silly]

can we get some angst/fluff where terzo was just dragged off stage and fem reader comforts him and cooks him his favorite food and makes him all better?

ABSOLUTELY god I love this idea, thank you!!!! I could not resist adding the reader being a part of the confrontation, I'd imagine any of us would beat their asses for dragging Terzo off the stage so violently. I tried to make it with a fem!reader in mind but this is probably very gender neutral anyway, sorry :D (I probably should practice writing gendered characters more lol)

---------------

A Bitter Finale

tags: terzo x fem!reader, hurt/comfort

They dragged him off the stage.

You were fuming, when you pushed your way through the crowd to the back. Heart racing and heavy, you rushed backstage, and you heard him yelling. You quickly threw your hair up in a ponytail, getting it out of your face.

You silently sneaked to Omega's dressing room and grabbed the baseball bat you had taken with you. (You were supposed to go playing with the ghouls after the tour, but looks like it would have other uses now.)

"What are you doing, I have to get back on stage, you cannot do this-"

"You had your final warning and still, you did not listen. This cannot continue, Terzo." The cold voice of Sister Imperator was heard.

You had enough.

You emerged from the shadows, and struck the man holding Terzo by the arms. When he tried to get up, you kicked him in the guts. You swept the other guy off his feet with the bat, and when he hit the ground with a thud, you swung the bat at his knees, hearing a cracking sound when it hit.

"Hands. Off." You sneered at them, before kneeling beside Terzo.

He squeezed your hand and smiled weakly, "Il mio salvatore, grazie amore." You helped him up, and faced Sister Imperator.

"The public has been riddled with rumours of a new Papa, and we cannot have your performance tarnish the reputation of the Ministry." Sister said coolly.

"What abou-" Terzo tried to interject, but Sister held up a hand.

"You are done. You were given one task and you could not do even that, so, your time is up." Sister smiled coldly.

"It is time for a new era."

When Sister left, Terzo crumbled to the ground and started sobbing. You kneeled down beside him, rubbing his back and hugging him.

"They cannot do this, I was in the middle of a show-" He sobbed, clinging on to you. You shushed him gently, "I know, I know, but we gotta get you home now, we can discuss this more then and there, not here."

You helped him up and led him out of the venue, hearing distantly Nihil getting on the stage.

When you got home, Terzo just collapsed. He couldn't even get a word out through his sobs so you held him tightly, running your fingers through his hair gently and whispering reassuring words into his ear.

When Terzo had calmed down enough, you tried to get up and he held onto you, not wanting you to go.

"Amore, you need to take your paints off," You said, running your hands through his hair. "Will you come with me to the bathroom so I can take care of you?" He nodded, getting up and letting you lead him to the bathroom.

You got out all of the skincare he used (which was a lot but hey, the paints were quite intense and wouldn't disappear with just water) and started gently wiping his paints off.

Terzo looked at you, eyes red and glossy from crying, and asked: "..Are you going to leave me?"

You dropped the moisturizer on the floor, shocked. You gently cupped his face, and looked at his eyes.

"No. Never. What they did tonight was wrong on so many levels I cannot even begin to describe it, and it makes me enraged they would treat you like this." You gently kissed his forehead, Terzo closed his eyes and gave a sigh of relief.

"Grazie. I thought- I thought that-"

You put a finger to his lips. "No more of that now, we will discuss what we need to do tomorrow." You finished by washing his face gently with warm water, and patting him dry with a fluffy towel.

"Now, you, my darling will go and pick a trashy soap opera to watch while I make us some food, okay?" Terzo tried to object, but you kissed him to make him shut his mouth.

"I'll bring it out when it's ready, just turn the volume high so I can hear what's happening." He smiled, kissed you on the top of your head and did as he was told.

The rest of the evening was spent by eating some great food and watching a trashy soap opera. Omega came by to check on Terzo, and was relieved to see he was doing okay. (Well, not okay but with the situation at hand? He was doing a lot better than most would.)

When you had eaten and finished the soap opera, you were laying down on the couch with Terzo beside you. You gently drew some shapes with your fingers on his back, while he breathed in your calming, sweet scent.

"I still cannot believe it.. Why would she do this.." Terzo whispered, tearing up slightly. You continued to trace circles on his back with your fingers, and contemplated a response.

"Honestly? I don't know. For all I know that old hag deserves to have her nose broken." Terzo snorted at that, and you grinned.

"But listen, we don't know what made Imperator do this, but the most important thing now is to stick together." You sat up beside Terzo. "We don't know what she has planned so we need to tread carefully." Terzo looked serious.

"I won't let them do anything to you. I'll kill them myself if they touch you." He said, frowning, while holding your hand.

You smiled, and cupped his cheek. "I know darling. And I'll bash their skulls in with my trusty bat if they plan to do something with you." You flashed him an angelic smile.

Terzo laughed, and hugged you tightly. You kissed his cheek. "I mean it. You're stuck with me, amore." He smiled, eyes bright.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."

--------------------

there ya have it, some angst/fluff with Terzo :D I apologize, the reader's gender isn't really specified that much, I just struggle to write gendered characters soo I hope thats okay!

anyway thaaank you for reading and enjoy <33

[serene-sun]

𝖂𝖍𝖔’𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖞? Pt. 1

Pairing: copia & child/teen gn reader

Release: 5/26/23 10:14pm

Summary: copia has a bit of a surprise for you!

A/n: this is part 1 of a small series I’m doing parallel to @ghostussy AU “faith” plz go read it, they are a phenomenal writer (they hit the feels so good)

“Amore, I have a bit of a surprise for you.” Copia says, sneaking into your room as if he’s hiding from someone.

“Hm?” You look up from the homework on your desk, eyes catching onto his arms behind his back and his lips trying their hardest not to flip into a smile.

“Ta-da!” Copia exclaims, presenting you a brightly dressed envelope.

You look at him in confusion, but excitement, who doesn’t love gifts? Taking the white and black bow wrapped around the blue paper off, you pull out papers that seem to be important looking.

“Copia, what is this?” You ask, even more curious. Your eyes hurt looking at the small font on the white paper.

Copia just stands there, tilting his head to let you know to look more closely.

Your brain freezes, your breathe hitches, your lungs hold, your joints ache, your stomach hurts, your muscles tense as you read the heading words.

Adoption certificate

You blink, your heart beating once more, your brain is so shocked it can’t send the signals of excitement to your soul.

“Papa?” You say, a small crack in your voice.

You look up at him, only your head moving as you hold tight the paper. Your so surprised you don’t even feel emotion, all you feel are droplets falling down your cheeks that start to get heavier.

“Papa?” You repeat, more emotional, you fall apart as you realize you won’t ever have to think of anything harmful again.

“Oh child…” copia hums, kneeling down to wrap you in a hug.

A hug so tight your eyes might pop out, a hug so tight it’s greater than the sun’s gravitational pull on anything in the galaxy.

“Papa….” You cry, tears now streaming down your cheeks like a river.

His name seems to be the only word you know, in-fact it’s not even his name, it’s the name you first heard when you arrived at the ministry. How kind his face was, how soft his touch was, how gentle he was helping you while recovering from the accident. You remember just how lovely that warmth spread in your chest when he had brought you flowers while in the infirmary.

“Papa, what does this mean? Does this mean your my legal guardian now?” You ask, in a rush over the tears, “do you mean I won’t ever have to see them again?”

“Amore, there’s a bit more to it.” Copia says, trying not to ruin the mood.

But the concerned look on your face forced him to explain more in detail.

“Well…we still have to go to court for a hearing, it won’t be longer than 50 minutes though!” Copia smiles.

You nod, lifting your chin up to give him a smile.

“When is the hearing? Doesn’t this take a long time?” You wonder

“Well, believe it or not it was a surprise for me first.” Copia chuckles, bringing a hand to wipe away your tears.

You ask him more about it

“Well mo- sister imperator has actually been working for these silly inked up papers since you arrived. And after talking with some, higher officials, it was approved for court.”

“Higher officials? You mean nihil?” You sniffle, bringing a hand to his and taking in his warmth as he continues.

“Eh- yeah…no- I-I uhm….hard to explain.” Copia stutters, “but he’s the one who will acually be there for the hearing, like a representative kinda.”

He tries to explain, but when is it ever easy to explain economic policies to a mere child!

You nod, maybe not understanding, but still happy that copia would legally be yours, or is that the other way around?

“So when is it?” You look into his glossy eyes, happy for himself as much as he is for you.

“We have a few weeks, i wanted to tell you as soon as I found out but….I refrained. I honestly don’t know how I kept it under the blanket for so long!”

“Do the ghouls know?”

“Do the other papas know?”

“What do I wear?”

“Who all will be there?”

“Who will I sit with there?”

You bombard the poor old man with questions.

“Eh- hehe let’s wait a moment bambino!” Copia attempts to calm you down.

“Sorry, it’s just….you don’t know how much this means to me copia.” You mumble as tears appear like flowers in the spring.

“Oh bambino….” Copia smiles and brings you into a tight hug.

“Do- what do I call you then?” You ask

“Oh, well uhm…anything you want! You can keep on calling me by my name, or papa, really anything your want dear.” Copia says, wiping away a strand tear.

A/n: reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed, lemme know what you would like to see next!