#nocturnal-birb | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweatandwoe · 1 year ago

Note

Don't mind me dropping in for the request. How about a papa absolutely smitten over a chubby sibling like he tries so hard to have a little bit of interaction with them as much as he can but he's also afraid to approach them because they might get spook having papa (who is always flocked by siblings) approach them and choosing to talk to them voluntarily

this could be angst if you squint enough

Birb you know I can't deny you, went with Copia for this one

Copia x Chubby!Reader - Anxiety, Slight Angst, Fluff, Copia is horribly smitten, Reader is a little shy/low self-esteem

He's old. Copia isn't one to sugarcoat it. He can laugh, he can pretend, but he can see how quickly his hair is going grey. Can feel the aches lingering in his joints more than he used to. The bags growing under his eyes seem to settle there now, no matter how much he preens himself.

But whenever he sees you, he doesn't feel quite as old as he should. Flustered. Like a teen with his first crush.

The worst part is: he knows you feel the same.

He's seen you. Copia isn't blind, he isn't old enough to lose his sight fully yet (though he knows he'll probably need some reading glasses soon enough). The shy way you hold yourself whenever he approaches, especially if he advances towards you with a group of admiring siblings on his heels.

Always so shy. But it was rather adorable.

At first, he thought, it may have just been the group. Though it was more easily expressed when others were around him found that you were always shy around him. Small little smiles, accompanied by small little acts of kindness.

When he returned them, you'd smile, try to hide yourself away. Pressing your clothes down with your fingers, as though trying to flatten yourself out. It made him want to throw his arms around your waist, to kiss every part you considered a flaw until you couldn't speak badly of any of it. Until you recognized how beautiful you were - always.

It made him feel happy in a small way, that you got the same butterflies he did when you saw one another. Even if you didn't know it.

But today, he's decided. He will ensure that his feelings are known - before he's too old and loses his chance. Or his nerve.

You are in the halls when he finds you. Glancing over him, and smiling more warmly when you realize he's alone. It has him beaming, as he greets you. "Tesoro." He holds out his hand. "May I borrow you for a moment?"

Your eyes crinkle when you smile now. It has his heart racing, maybe skipping a beat as you slide your fingers into his gloved hand. "Of course, Papa."

He might already love you, he thinks, drawing you further down the hall. Copia hasn't even kissed you yet, but he thinks it will be the best kiss he's ever gotten. Your hands are warm, and you look horribly sweet.

Papa Emeritus the fourth would devour you if you let him. Not just your body, but your heart too. Let it become one with his body, so if it ever hurt he'd know.

"Please," He whispers, bringing you close as he leads you into his empty office. Enjoying how you smile more fully in the quiet perfection that was a room with just the two of you. The older man presses a delicate kiss to the back of your hand, letting his lips brush over your knuckles. "Call me Copia."

#sweaty asks #ghost band #the band ghost #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv #copia #nocturnal-birb #kissing you birb

193 notes · View notes

dearlymrme · 2 years ago

Text

Te lo meriti! (CopiaxReader)

Summary: A birthday present for my dearest @nocturnal-birb I did my best and hope you like it. This also goes out to all you folks who feel this way and need a Papa’s support and reassurance.

Copia x Reader || Papa Emeritus iv x Reader || Fluff || Comfort Fic || Established Relationship || Poorly Translated Italian || WC: 1716

You stand before Copia’s door with a manilla folder in hand full of official documents for him to sign off on. There’s a few about his next sermon, some to do with the next tour, and notices from the clergy.

You gently rapped your knuckles against his door, loud enough to get his attention while your other hand brushes invisible dust off your habit and straightens the small amount of wrinkles. You wish you had more time to tidy up. Your hair was being very uncooperative today and you had been in such a rush this morning that you had forgone makeup.

You hoped he wouldn’t mind that you didn’t look your best. However, knowing Copia, it’s not because of your makeup that he’s always staring at your face with his dopey lovesick eyes. You smile at imagining him getting distracted again in the midst of paperwork coercing you that neither of you get any work done.

“One minute!” You frown in concern at the sharpness of his voice, even behind the door. He sounds panicked.

“Papa?” You worry and jump when you hear a loud thump and yelp followed by cursing.

“Merda! Ti userò come legna da ardere!” It’s a hard thing to try and hold back a snicker when you hear him muttering curses at the furniture and wonder just what has him so unsettled that he’s bumping into things. You clearly caught him in the middle of something. You wait, expecting him to open the door but there is more shuffling from the other side before it goes quiet and then he clears his throat.

“Come in.”

You grab the handle and open the door, raising a brow at the dark room. The fireplace is out. The lights are off. The shades are drawn. The only light in the room is that from the now opened doorway, illuminating your Papa’s desk but even it is darkened by your own shadow. You tip your head curiously and reach for the light switch as you step into the room and close the door behind you.

For a split second the whole room was pitch black before you flip the switch and the lights came on, revealing…Just the office, but there are multicolored paper streamers hanging from the ceiling and not much else has changed besides the fact that on the coffee table to the side is a cake with candles and two glasses. It’s small but still just enough to make your stomach drop and the implications.

“Cazzo!” You're startled to set your gaze on the man right beside you. Copia, the most powerful figure in the church, your lover, was standing in such a position that he had to have been hiding in the shadow of the door when you opened it.

In his hand is a colorful cardboard cylinder, which he fumbles with awkwardly.

“Wait! Shit. I had this all planned out and-” He curses and you lift a hand to stop him.

“Copia.”

“AHA!”

And then there is a loud pop and glitter goes flying everywhere. You momentarily transfixed on the shimmering flakes as they catch the light and gracefully fall to the floor. The smell of the explosive breaks you out of your stupor and you glance back to Copia’s smiling and expecting face.

You open your mouth but no words come out and he misinterprets this as a good sign.

“It’s good, si? Took your breath away?” He grins and shakes his hands jazz-like to gesture at the cake and candles and streamers.

“I wondered why you never took your birthday off. You never even mentioned it, I had to look it up. Surprise!” He happily cheered. You bite your lip and take a unsteady breath as you walk over and drop the folder on his desk before turning and looking back at the door.

The brief idea of running away crosses your mind and then you look back to the small preparations he made for this and then at him who stands eager for your reaction, you flush with humiliation.

You lick your lip before crossing your arms over yourself and that causes him to drop his expecting smile. He tentatively approaches and begins to worry with his hands.

“Mia cuore, what is wrong? Don’t you like it?” He asked and you shake your head, looking down at the floor and rub at your arms with nervous energy

“It’s not that. It’s very nice Papa-” He flinches at the title because this is meant to be a moment between you, a happy moment, and when you are being happy together you use his name. You are not happy. You wince at your mistake, so clearly giving away your down mood that only goes further down. He worked hard on this, he wants to see you happy, you should be happy he went through all this effort.

“Copia.” You correct but the damage is done and he looks at you with worry and even a bit of hurt in his eyes. You lick your lips again as you try to figure out a way to explain it.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked and you quickly shook your head.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the problem. I don’t-” You gesture and swallow the knot forming in your throat. Your voice goes tight and what you say ends up a mutter in your shame.

“Say that again?” And you take a deep breath, dropping your arms and curling your fingers into fists at your side.

“You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Of course I did. Today is a special day.” You shake your head and deny.

“No, you shouldn’t have…I…I’m not worth it.” You say, gesturing to the decorations, meager as they may be, he went and took time out of his busy schedule to put this together.

“You probably had so many other things you could have been doing.” You huff a pathetic attempt at a laugh to try and lighten your own mood but fail. “

Hell, I came to deliver you more paperwork. This is a busy time of the year for you, you know.” You clear your throat and then start to babble as you try to distract from the fact that you feel like absolute shit. Because he went through all this effort and you can’t even muster a smile at him.

You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve him.

“You’ve got the new tour to worry about. Assignments from the clergy. The sermons for next week. Meetings with officials from the Norwegian abbey in a month and-” You gesture to yourself.

“I’m like…You shouldn’t have taken time to…You got other things you could be doing than waste throwing me a party.” You snicker wetly and shake your head, “We need to work on getting your priorities in the right order.”

Copia gives a shocked gasp and you can’t even muster the courage to look at him, focused on the floor and the glitter that litters the carpet and will most certainly be a pain for the cleaners.

“Sorry, I’m gonna-” You make a move to leave and are halted as he snatched up one of your hands.

“Cara mia.” He says adoringly, sympathetically, concerned. You bite your lip and sniffle as it starts to strike at your heart. You still cannot meet his eyes, ashamed of the emotion that litters his voice that he’s wasting on you.

“Look at me?” He suggests in a gentle tone and when you still refuse he gently cups you by the chin with his thumb and guides your head up. Your eyes remain on the floor and your cheeks burn. “Amore, please.”

That breaks you and you finally look at him and wince when you see heartbreak in his eyes. It makes you feel one hundred percent worse.

“La mia amica del cuore. You listen carefully.” You nod as a tear streaks down your cheek.

“My priorities are in order.” He explains.

“Getting you to smile, to be happy, to blush and to laugh?” He smiles at you and moves his hand from your chin to wipe away your tears.

“That is one of my highest priorities.”

It absolutely strangles your heart that such a sweet man can say such sweet things to you, of all people, he says these things to you. And the way he looks at you with such a soft expression and concern on his face as he brings your hand to his lips and presses gentle kisses to your knuckles.

It makes you choke and flush embarrassedly.

“I think this is a momentous day, you know.” You sniff and don’t resist when he pulls you close before wrapping his arms around you, thumbing your shoulder gently and pressing a hard kiss to the top of your head. “This is the day you were born, mia cuore. And if you hadn't been born I would have never met you.”

“I don’t know who has told you or led you to believe that you're not worth celebrating but I have some harsh words for them.” He clicks his tongue. “Who? Who has told you that you are not worth it?” He asks you and you shrug, neglecting to answer but he picks up the silent clue too well.

“Oh, well then I have some harsh words for you.”

He places another kiss on your head and hits you with what he deems are cold hard facts.

“You are worth it.” He kisses your forehead.

“You do deserve it.” And he tips your head up once more to claim your lips with his own.

“I love you, mia amore.”

“And I will throw as many birthday parties as it takes before you start believing it. I will not rest until I get these tears of sadness to turn into tears of joy.” He promises before claiming your lips again in a sweet peck.

You sniff before wrapping your arms around his chest and nuzzling your face into his shoulder. A tremble runs through you as he glides his fingers through your hair and strokes your arm.

It’s spoken like a promise. It’s kept like a vow.

“As many hugs. As many kisses. As many parties. As many presents. As many as it takes before you see yourself as worthy of it as I do. Anything and everything, my heart.”

#copia #copia x reader #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #ghost band #ghost the band #the band ghost #reader insert #dee writes #comfort fic #@nocturnal-birb

189 notes · View notes