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erin-writes-ghost-fluff · 6 months ago

Text

Observations

A/N: Round 2, electric boogaloo. Again, thank you to a friend who helped come up with a pretty, poetic way to describe Grave's wings. I made sure it all went through this time. Let's try this again, shall we? Again, here's a visual of Grave's wings. Minors/Under the age of 18, do not interact, my fluff is not for you.

Fandom: Ghost

Characters: Grave, (OC) Copia, Papa Emeritus Primo

Warnings: Swearing. Some tickles. Might be OOC but IDC, I wrote it for myself.

Summary: Primo’s been fascinated by Grave’s wings since Terzo brought her home. Observations ensue.

Irish Gaelic translation: Mora Duit- “Morrow to you.” A greeting.

Italian translation: Buon pomeriggio- Good afternoon.

Grazie- Thank you

Fatina- Little Fairy

Dolcezza- sweetheart

~ ~ ~

Primo paid the creature no mind, at first. He knew however, that Terzo's story of summoning a ghoul in Ireland was false. Even with Omega's help, his younger brother didn't have half of what he needed for the ritual. When confronted, Terzo caved and admitted that she was in fact, a phooka. Going forward, Grave didn't bother the old man much. The other ghouls told her he’d pissed on one of them, when angered on one occasion.

He seemed easily irritated, so she gave both he and Secondo a wide berth. Though Terzo told her something interesting, her second week at The Ministry:

Approximately a year before he found Grave, Terzo had called for a ‘family meeting’ between himself, Secondo, and Primo. Said meeting was Terzo reprimanding his older brothers for their treatment of the creatures. They were Satan’s creations, was his logic. Should The Ministry really disrespect such creatures that their Dark Lord formed? They needed to treat them better, Terzo had said.

At first the two scoffed at such a notion but soon began to see Terzo was right. From that point, they had been trying not to be as unkind. Hell, Primo and Mountain eventually bonded and became platonic mates.

This would explain why Primo was so quick to comfort her after ‘orientation’ with Nihil and Sister. After all, he named her. He saw how well she tended to the graves of Copia’s rats. He liked her help in the garden too. Mountain was certainly glad she was there.

Even with all of this information, Grave was still slightly apprehensive when Primo invited her for tea in the greenhouse, a month later. When she asked Copia about this development, he seemed excited for her.

“That's considered a high honor among the ghoul pack,” he explained with a smile. “It means he's taken a liking to you.”

Grave blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Copia affirmed, ruffling her hair. “Eh, don't be nervous. He’s intense at times. He comes off as scary and grouchy, but he's mellowed out a little bit. …Don't tell him I said that, ok?”

The phooka giggled, headbutting his hand being careful with her horns.

“I promise he won't know.”

Copia sighed in relief. “Grazie! He’d kill me if he knew I said that!”

He rubbed her horns affectionately, pressing his temple against his. A gesture of affection within the ghoul pack.

“I’ll let you go meet him. Don't wanna keep him waiting!”

They parted ways, Grave making her way out to the garden. She was proud of the work she had done in it, thus far. She had planted many flowers, so the bees had a food source. None of them had bloomed but they were growing tall. Especially her sunflowers.

The door to the greenhouse was ajar, meaning Primo was already expecting her. Her heart picked up just a little, as she entered. At once, the smell of lavender and rosemary entered her nostrils. There were pots of them on the greenhouse table. The soft scent of tea was also noticeable to her. Primo had already brewed a pot.

“Ah, perfect timing. Come sit, Grave. I made one of my own blends.”

His voice held a slight rasp to it. It had sounded that way since she met him. He had spread an old blanket on the ground, with cushions for them to sit on. Like his two younger brothers, he was wearing his papal paints.

“Mora Duit,” The phooka greeted, “what blend is it?” Her nose twitched, going haywire, finding she liked the smell of it.

“Buon pomeriggio, Primo returned the greeting, before smirking at her. Tea wasn't the only reason he wanted her here.

“Why don't you tell me? Do The Fair Folk have a keen sense of smell?”

It was now Grave focused, trying to figure out what all he put in this blend.

“Rose… with chamomile, and erm… berries?”

The eldest Emeritus chuckled, pouring a cup for her, then himself.

“Hawthorn berries. But very good. Your nose might be just as powerful as a demon’s.”

He passed the cup to her, before grabbing a bowl of sugar cubes.

“Do you take sugar with your tea?”

“Please! Two lumps! They're perfect!

A creature of taste, he thought, adding the amount of sugar cubes she requested. He handed her a small spoon to stir up and dissolve the sugar. Feeling comfortable, Grave shifted out of her ghoulette form to her true phooka form. She dug her paws into the earth, enjoying how the cool dirt felt.

She had no human hair in this form. Only long, fluffy, black fur, with lopsided rabbit ears, goat horns, piercing yellow eyes, raccoon paws for hands, black fox paws for feet, and the tail of a lion.

Her wings shimmered, appearing to be iridescent. They were long, gossamer like in their beauty and yet... They reminded him of frayed leaves, stuck stubbornly against the wind on a branch. The last vestiges of summer unwilling to let go, no matter how the elements strip it away, bit by bit.

One could see patterns and swirls inside of them. These wings were what intrigued Primo the most. The way they caught the light, they almost looked like stained glass windows.

They were a work of art that Primo wanted to study. To admire. It could wait, however. Tea came first. He didn't know if Grave would even allow him to touch them. He was still taking great pains to earn some of the ghouls trust, so he could study their wings and behavior. Understandably, she may not want a mortal she barely knew, examining and touching her wings.

“How are you adjusting?” He asked, opening up the conversation.

“Much better. Now that the pack has accepted me, I don't feel out of place. I feel close to da and dad.”

Primo raised an eyebrow. “You refer to Terzo and Omega as such already?”

Though he wasn't all that surprised. His little brother couldn't stop gushing about her, upon their return. Of course he got attached. Omega too began referring to her as his ‘kit’ shortly after they came home.

“I do. I don't exactly know what a father is, considering phookas don't have family units like you mortals… but I observed so many humans over the thousands of years I spent in Ireland. But I know da is like the men I observed with their own children, both young and adult. It comes naturally to him.”

“That it does. He’s nurturing and kind to the little ones here in The Ministry. It’s a shame he couldn't have any of his own.”

“Why?”

Primo sighed after sipping his tea.

“The Ministry is strict, Grave. Especially with us three Papas. We cannot have any sort of wife- or husband in Terzo's case- to appear available to fans. Therefore, he cannot be with a woman to bear his offspring. Sister already disapproves of his relationship with Omega. But if he were to break that rule and marry a woman? He’d be exiled from this place, never allowed to return.”

Grave’s brows furrowed. That didn't seem so bad. If exile was all they did…

“From how he speaks, he’d want that.”

Primo shook his head.

“His title would be stripped. He’d be barred from The Ministry, not allowed to preach, not allowed to perform, not allowed to see us.”

He lowered his voice, in the event the wrong person could be listening.

“Think of The Ministry more like a cult. There have been those that have tried to leave in the past. Nobody ever heard from them again. It makes me suspect that they were killed. And I don't want that to happen to my brother. If you can…. Protect him, alongside Omega. You may have noticed, nobody here trusts Sister. Aside from Copia. But I have my theory on that.”

Grave nodded, taking a sip of the tea. The blend was flavorful. It tasted as wonderful as it smelled. The rose didn't overpower the other herbs in the tea.

“You have my word. Of course I’ll protect him. I care about him greatly.”

It took some weight off of Primo's mind. A fae and demon protecting Terzo together would be nearly unstoppable.

“Grazie. He’s lucky to have you.”

Now, time for a subject change. He didn't want to worry her with all of this talk of The Ministry.

“Your flowers are doing good. Your sunflowers are getting bigger than I expected. Those snapdragons are finally sprouting too, I see.”

Her tail began to sway at his praise. She smiled, taking another sip of her tea.

“I’m so glad! I’ve never had experience planting my own flowers! I’ve only watched other mortals grow them. Being able to see my efforts and diligence pay off, is rewarding.”

He nodded, smiling. “Indeed. Flowers take time, but it's always nice to see them sprout, grow and eventually bloom.”

That reminded her… there was something she wanted to ask him to plant.

“Papa Primo? Think you could teach me how to plant and care for pumpkins? I wanna eat ‘em, but I want some for carving.”

Ahh, yes. That could most certainly be arranged. He was going to plant some anyway.

“Yes, of course. Mountain and I plant some later in the summer, so the children have them to carve for Halloween.”

Her tail wagged again, only faster this time Primo noted with a bit of amusement.

“Thank you! I do love a good, fresh pumpkin but the mortals always carved such curious faces on ‘em! I’d like to try that too!”

He smirked. “You enjoy the Halloween season, I take it?”

“Absolutely! Samhain is the best night of the year!”

Her enthusiasm was charming. Though he wasn't surprised. The Veil was said to be thinnest on Halloween. Perfect for foolery, trickery, and phookas were beings of pure mischief. She’d already been up to it, according to what he heard in the halls of The Ministry.

“Let me guess, you like the pranks the most, don't you?” He gave a soft, throaty chuckle.

Considering the gleam in her golden eyes, and the fanged grin that went with it, Primo had his answer.

“I assure you, you don't want to pull that sort of fuckery with Secondo or myself.”

The retired front man may have chosen his words poorly. To a being of mischief, Grave considered this a challenge.

“And why not?”

Oh, she wanted to play that way? Well, he may be older but if this was how she wanted to fuck around and find out, he would certainly show her why that was an ill advised idea.

He set his cup down, leaning forward, his white eye almost glowing.

“Because fatina,” Primo began, his voice now authoritative, if not sounding a tad gutteral.

“Neither I nor my brother take kindly to pranks. Ask your father or Copia what we’d put them through in our younger days, when they got up to such fuckery.”

Grave shifted around, a little unnerved. Ok, maybe those two were off limits…

“Y- yes, Papa…” she replied with a nervous grin.

He reached forward, patting her head. “Good ghoul. No need to worry if you keep yourself out of such mischief, regarding us.”

She couldn't resist being a little smart ass, one last time, however.

“....You didn't say anything about da, Copia, or the other ghouls though.”

He raised an amused eyebrow at this, giving an almost mischievous smile.

“Just so you know, Terzo screams like a little girl at spiders. Copia also startles easily. He’s almost too easy.”

She giggled, tail back to wagging again. “Oooh, noted! I’ll have to try and fuck with ‘em later!”

They finished their cups of tea off after another few minutes. Grave stood up and stretched, her wings stretching out with her. This was when Primo decided now would be a good time to ask.

“Grave? Before you leave, might I request something?”

Her head tilted to the side questioningly. Now that just wasn't fair, Primo thought. He saw why his two of his younger brothers were charmed by her. Suppose she was an endearing, little thing.

“Do you need help with something, papa?”

“Nothing serious. If you would permit me, I would like to study your wings. You are the only non-demonic entity we have in The Ministry. Your wings are vastly different from a quintessential ghoul’s or an air ghoul’s, for example.”

A surge of excitement coursed through the fae. Copia was right! Primo did like her! ...And according to his thoughts, he considered her cute? Oh no, no! There was nothing cute about her! Phookas were often feared in the old days, back home! Nevertheless, her tail wagged once more.

“That's fine! I’m happy to assist!” She replied, shocking Primo. He thought for sure she might have said no.

Suppose she trusted him? But why? She wasn't close to him the way she was to Terzo or Copia. It was a pleasant surprise, nonetheless. He gathered tea supplies, carrying them on a tray, while Grave took the cushions and blanket to the laundry room. They both agreed to meet back in his room. After all, Primo had to be able to make notes.

Once they were both present, he led her inside, inviting her to sit on his bed. He opened up a large notebook that had been written in over the course of many months. All observations and studies he had made on the ghouls and ghulehs. Now, a new entry will be written. After dating the page, a sudden thought occurred to him.

“Grave? Did Terzo give you a human name for when you're in your mortal glamor, by chance?”

“He did. Picked it right out of a baby book. ‘Shailyn.’ It's of Gaelic origin. It means ‘from the Fairy Palace.’”

He nodded, making a note on the page. He opened a drawer on his bedside table, locating his magnifying glass.

“Turn your back to me,” Primo instructed. “The light catches them best this way.”

Grave did as she was told, even spreading and extending her wings to make things easier for him. He nodded in approval, taking the magnifying glass to begin his work.

“I’m going to touch your wings with your permission. You have patterns I wish to get a better look at. There's a few areas that intrigue me.”

The phooka took a moment to respond. Fairy wings were sensitive. It didn't take much to damage them or cause great pain.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. I’ll treat them as I would a seedling. I know we aren't as close as you and your fathers, but I would never handle such beautiful wings harshly.”

She believed him. He was Terzo's brother and thus far, he had treated her with respect and even kindness.

“...You have my consent. But please, please be easy. They are delicate.”

Primo gave her some reassuring scratches, on her neck and under her chin, causing her to purr. He raised an eyebrow, quickly making another note. Damn it all… He was quickly finding her absolutely adorable. Not that he would say such a thing aloud. He had a reputation to keep after all. Though Terzo often said, that was a silly way of thinking.

Gently, he took a wing in one hand, while he used his magnifying glass to look at the patterns. They looked purple when the light hit them. They swirled in different directions, always changing, sometimes in a spiral. He set his tool down, writing something else down.

Afterwards, he took his pointer finger, absentmindedly tracing a pattern on her left wing, wanting to feel and know the texture. As soon as his finger began to move, they twitched involuntarily. Grave let out a soft gasp, a smile trying to wobble across her lips. She was glad he couldn't see her face at the moment.

Uh- oh.

Primo jerked his hand away as though he’d been burned. “Are you alright, fatina?”

“Mm-hmm!”

It tickled. And worst of all, she felt the tickling sensation go into the left side of her back in addition to that wing. Two spots at once. He didn't need that information!

“... Are you sure?”

She didn't want him getting suspicious. “Yes! You can, erm, continue!”

She could take it.

Primo resumed, trying to figure out a description in his notebook for how the texture felt. Dragonfly wings? Yes, yes, that would do-

His thoughts were interrupted by a stifled giggle. The elder Emeritus blinked, before a smirk came to settle on his lips.

Ahhh, another ticklish ‘ghoul’? Poor little thing. I wonder…

He now pretended that he didn't hear her, continuing with what he was doing. It was still part of the observations, he told himself. It wasn't his fault she was this sensitive after all.

The more he traced, the harder it was for the phooka to keep her laughter at bay. She was practically snickering into her paws. Her tail began to beat against the bed.

No, no, no, he can't know, right? He’s not doing this on pur-

More giggles now began to spill over, Primo’s smirk now growing into a mischievous smile. Had she seen that, she probably would have gotten flustered and nearly fainted.

“Something funny, Shailyn?” He asked, feigning innocence, his finger traveling upwards.

"N-nothing!” She replied, blushing beneath her fur.

“Then why are you giggling?”

No response except for a shake of her head. Her resolve was crumbling and they both knew it. Well, if she was going to be a difficult little gremlin…

This time he lightened up his touch further, using his blunt nails, yet treating her wings as though they were fragile panes of glass. One could never be too gentle. It worked as he wanted, loud giggles issuing forth.

“Grave…” His voice held an almost playful, teasing tone, “are you ticklish, ghoulette?”

He almost chuckled at how her fur had fluffed up and bristled out. Her tail whipped around frantically as she gripped the bedsheets.

“Ok!” She squeaked, “yes, yes, I am!” Another bubbly laugh escaped and Primo now found himself completely enthralled with the creature.

There was no denying it anymore. He found her cute, interesting and wanted to bond with her. His fingers moved downwards, causing a squeal followed by a shocked cackle. The fact that she wasn't trying to escape had not gone unnoticed by him.

“I-I thought you were studying-” Her words were broken up by laughter.

A low laugh reverberated through the elder Emeritus’ chest.

“I still am. But call this a curiosity that has to be satisfied, dolcezza.”

Oh dear lord… his thoughts indicated mischief. And that was her job! Grave didn't mind, however. According to his thoughts, he seemed to be enjoying himself a bit. Not that she would admit it, but she was having fun too. Wait. Was this another way of bonding, she wondered? Interesting.

Any further thoughts came crashing to a halt, as he used both hands, his touch maddeningly gentle as he slowly and methodically scratched up and around both wings, giving her no time to process.

Grave cackled, back twitching and arching, trying to avoid his fingers but it was useless. Her legs kicked out frantically as she began to snort in between her laughter.

“Please!” She managed to get out, “it’s so bad!”

Primo couldn't help but be a little evil. He’d be lying if he said her reactions weren't melting his heart.

“Oh, is it? It can't be that bad, I believe you're exaggerating, Shailyn!”

Behavior such as this was rare for him these days, but he still occasionally indulged. Mainly with Terzo. His poor little brother needed reminders not to let the stress of being papa get to him, after all.

He scratched in between her wings now, causing them to beat together, her laughter growing high pitched. It was here, he found something interesting. Something he had only previously observed with the ghouls.

A bundle of nerves which reflexively forced her wings shut, when gently pressed upon. A loud, uncontrollable squeal flew from her lips, eyes widening at how horribly that one, small action tickled.

“What the fuck?!” She nearly shrieked, snorting several times and falling over onto her side on the bed.

Primo paused, eagerly jotting his findings down.

“You and the pack share a common trait!” He announced, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

“W- which is?” She panted, greedily taking in air.

“That spot in between your wings,” he explained, “a cluster of nerves that makes your wings close. It's a reflex but one I’ve only seen in ghouls. I didn't think other creatures might possess this trait.”

Even Grave herself was unaware she had this reflex. She made a note to talk to Omega later. He might be able to tell her more.

“Now, where was I?... Unless you’d like me to stop. Then by all means, tell me and I will.”

Grave found herself blushing, tail twitching and swishing with embarrassment.

“Erm… you can continue for a bit more. I don't mind.”

Primo chuckled but it sounded warmer this time.

“Having fun, are we?”

He gave her no warning before he suddenly resumed, fingers gently massaging those nerves in between her wings. Grave was immediately launched back into borderline hysteria.

“NOT THAT!” She now begged, laughter wild yet giddy.

“Aw, I’m sorry, let me move spots!” His tone of voice was taunting, and she most certainly didn't like that.

Oh fuck-

The spot he moved to nearly made the poor fae hit the roof. He’d found where her wings connected to her back, incessantly scratching, nearly driving her to madness. She gave another shriek, smacking the mattress, trying to cope.

“I’M TELLING DA!” She let out a bleat, before falling back into mad, uncontrollable laughter.

Her threat and new noise caused Primo to bark a laugh. Deciding to take it a little easier on her, he reached in front of her, going for her belly.

“Terzo can't help you, fatina,” Primo taunted in that same playful tone.

Her cackles died down to giggling once more, as he clawed and wiggled his fingers into her stomach. It was still a bad spot but more bearable than where he’d been tickling.

“He knows what happens when he tries to intervene. You're trapped here with me!”

He gave a theatrically evil, low chuckle, watching his giggly prey squirm and kick. Oh yeah. He was stealing her from Terzo and his younger brother could just get over it. …Or at least share. There was much Primo could learn from her and he had so many questions. But they could wait. They had time.

“Before I stop, answer me this: Are you going to try any pranks or mischief with me?”

He skittered his fingers around the expanse of her belly, her feet pumping like pistons. She laughed into her hands, letting out the occasional squeak.

“Depending on your answer, I may just have to find more ticklish areas on you.”

Grave did not want him going after her ribs, so she answered quickly.

“No! No, never!”

Primo smirked. He didn't know if he believed her but he could see she was tiring, and he didn't want to push it too far.

“Hmm. Very well. I’ll release you…. For now.”

He ceased, now only rubbing her belly in soothing circles, making her purr happily while she caught her breath. She groaned embarrassedly, giving him a playful glare.

“Was that absolutely necessary?”

“Yes,” he huffed out a laugh, “I get to write that phookas are ticklish in my observation journal.”

Once her breathing regulated, she turned over on her stomach, allowing him to resume looking at her wings. He was gentle but no longer intentionally tried to tickle her. They were magnificent, he thought, admiring how the light made them shimmer.

The iridescence was beautiful up close. They even looked as though they glowed softly in dim or lower light. With every new find, Primo would write something down. They didn't seem out of proportion to her height, either. She even went outside again to let him compare what they looked like in sunlight versus artificial light.

Just as Primo always thought, they reminded him of stained glass in the sunlight. He knew some might disagree with his view, but they could not deny the beauty.

After returning to his room and writing down his final observations, he pulled out something from his cabinet for her. A bottle of aged, Irish whiskey.

“Because you’ve been so patient and have put up with so much, I thought I’d give you this as a thank you present.”

Grave blinked, completely taken aback.

“This whole bottle?!”

“Of course! Take it, Shailyn. You’ve earned it.”

“Have a drink with me then?”

Well…. Who was he to turn her down? He gave a warm smile, took two glasses from his cabinet, and took short walks to the cafeteria for ice. He returned, pouring them each a glassful.

Grave hummed in approval after taking a small sip.

“Oh, good shit!” She grinned, “the flavor is perfect!”

“It is, isn't it? I’m glad it's to your liking.”

The two spent the next hour conversing over their drinks, just as they had done earlier. And when they finished, Primo hardly protested when she curled up in his lap to read his Satanic Bible.

When she inevitably fell asleep, he figured there was no point in trying to move her. His own eyes felt heavy, and he soon found himself asleep before he realized it. It was exactly how Terzo found them an hour later, snickering softly, before taking a picture with his phone.

Seemed they were getting close to one another, he thought with a smile.

Well, damn. He’s still a giant softie! I fucking called it!

Even if Primo didn't admit it, Grave had indeed won him over.

#ghost the band #the band ghost #cardinal copia #nameless ghoulette oc #papa emeritus i #primo emeritus #papa emeritus primo #nameless ghouls #not really a ghoulette but a pooka #erin's ocs #erin's fics

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