#the band ghost comfort fic

[serene-sun]

˚⛰︎ミ☆𓆦𝕭𝖎𝖌 𝖗𝖊𝖉𓆦☆彡⛰︎˚

Pairing: papa of your choice & teen reader (platonic)

Genre: fluff! Comfort!

“Mm, sleepy.” You mumble under papas throw blanket that draped across you and him on his big leather sofa as a movie played.

He pets your head, trailing his fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp. The feeling makes you uncontrollably moan.

“Cold…” you pout, wiggling more into his back against the couch.

“Come on Angelo, let’s go to bed, it’s far past your bed time.” Papa whispers, his words blowing strands of hair out of your face.

You moan more, too sleepy to move. Papa catches on and decides to motivate you.

“Oh, but guess what papa found in the closet?” Papa teases.

You perk up, unable to hide your love for surprises.

Papa leaves the room, only to return moments later with a familiar red blanket in his arms.

You gasp, recognizing the fabric immediately.

“Wher-?” Before you can ask where he found it, he answers, “ghouls were hoarding it”

You run off to papas big bed, and attempt to get on the tall matress.

“Jeez, it’s seen better days.” He shakes his head.

You motion for him to throw it over you, only to have a bit of sadness swell up in your heart.

It’s….so small?

Papa sees the look of disbelief in your eyes, and sighs softly with a soft smile.

“You’ve grown up allot!” He reassures you.

“But…” you give up, trying to figure out how the blanket shrunk.

“Oh, amore..” he says, brining you into a big hug across his bed as tears swell up at the realization that you weren’t a kid anymore.

“You know…I remember like it was yesterday that we had to franticly search for you under this raggy old thing you were so small.” Papa tells you, petting your hair once more

“It was like a mountain.” You try to distract yourself from any negative thoughts and feelings intruding.

“But amore, it’s just a blanket. I know it holds so many good memory’s, but it’s just fabric! Just because you have grown out of being a small little child doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel that love, or be treated differently. I’ll still give you a bath if you please, and you know I don’t mind when you sleep with me.” Papa whispers into your hair as he rests his chin on it.

“I didn’t think time would go by so quickly.” You sigh, the tears spilling from your cheeks.

Papa hums, “I remember how you would even take it to the trampoline, even on joy rides around, and of course down to the basement during bad weather.”

You simply nod, remembering all the years the toughen red fabric releases as you hug it more.

“Oh jeez, it’s late. Come on.” Papa motions for you to lay back down as he gets under it as well.

You can practically smell all of the summer nights on it, as well as the cold winter ones. The feeling of the blanket brings you back to the feeling of the winter cold on your cheeks, but the blanket would bring you that warmth that was of a humans body. It even gave you the faint hearing of the heat Turing on, and how it reminded you of coming home from school and plopping down on the couch that was perfectly over the vent. The big red blanket also brought you back to laying on the trampoline, and how the twinkly lights of the stars speared at the sun was swallowed by the hill side. And how the frogs and crickets sing their lullaby as the moon wakes up, or how the wind would play with your hair as the campfire would crack and warm your feet and hands. Even when you had it draped around yourself at the table playing card games with the ghouls, mountain would look at your cards and help you out since you insisted you ‘knew how to play’, never once, unlike Swiss, did he cheat though.

But now that you had grown more, You found yourself in papas arms falling asleep, even more importantly, wrapped around the warm comfort big red.

A/n: huh what I’m not crying and projecting my childhood trauma into my work??

[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."

-

[coffeeghoulie]

after midnight

late nights in Dew and Aether's nest.

Explicit, 1.9k. Contains a sleepy handjob, aftercare, and just gross domestic fluff.

this was supposed to be a quick little thing to take my mind off of things and it turned into four pages. just how it goes lmao.

divider by @wrathofrats <3

Dew takes great pride in keeping his hearth warm. Aether's vessel doesn't run anywhere near as warm as his does, nose and fingertips and toes freezing when he gets into bed.

"Long day, starshine?" Dew whispers, curling up against his mate's side. Aether groans softly, stretching as he settles into their bedding. Their scents are baked into the sheets. This is theirs. His arm curls around Dew's shoulders, pulling him flush to his side.

"Not really, but still glad it's over," he says, turning to look at Dew. His eyes glow soft and purple in the low light of their room, the worn fabric of his sleep shirt soft under Dew's cheek. "Glad I'm here."

Dew cracks a smile, hooks a thigh over Aether's hip in an attempt to get closer. "Where you're meant to be," Dew hums, smile curling a little possessively. He presses his face into the crook of his neck, rubbing his cheek over his matescar for a moment.

"Yeah, where I'm meant to be," Aether laughs softly, and Dew feels it more than he hears it. He yawns, almost cat-like with the way it bares his fangs, glinting in the low light, and settles more firmly into the crook of Aether's arm.

Dew trills contentedly when Aether's tail winds around his own, hand heavy and solid against the small of his back. He slings his own arm over Aether's chest, feels his heart beat under his palm, takes a deep, shuddering breath of ozone and the faintest bit of antiseptic.

Their bodies press together like magnets, the matebond between them like a compass needle; Dew'll always be able to find his way home by it. Not that he ever wants to be far from his mate. Not willingly. But he knows, if it ever happens again, he'll know exactly how to return to Aether's side.

"Love you," Aether yawns. It bares his fangs, thick and sharp and dangerous, inches from Dew's face. Anyone else would flinch instinctively. But Dew purrs, rubs his cheek against Aether's collarbone.

"You too," he whispers. They float in a haze between sleep and wakefulness, and Dew's entire world reduces down to the careful arrangement of bedding that makes up their hearth. He is safe, his mate is warm and content, and they can indulge in sloth and rest until they're sated.

Dew's not quite sure when his eyes open next. The room is still dark and warm. His head rises and falls where he's using Aether's chest as the most comfortable pillow. There's something half hard pressed against his shin, where his leg is hooked over Aether's hip. He isn't sure what wakes him, but the low, budding scent of Aether's arousal is a likely suspect.

"Aeth," Dew hums, soft, careful not to break the peaceful little bubble they find themselves in.

"Mm?" Aether says, voice low and rumbly in his chest. His eyes don't open, but his hips press up slightly into Dew's.

"You want some help?" Dew offers, rubbing his cheek against his collarbone, worrying at the fabric of his shirt.

Aether turns to face him. Slow and still heavy with sleep, it takes effort. But those violet eyes crack open, peering down at him and glowing in the darkness. "Never gonna say no to you, darling."

Dew smiles, lazy and fond, and shifts until his face is pressed into the crook of Aether's neck. His hand, still resting over Aether's chest, trails down until it reaches the hem of his shirt. He cards his fingers through the coarse hair covering Aether's belly.

Aether groans as his hand teases downward, head rolling back into the pillows of their hearth with a soft groan. Dew just smiles, rucks up the hem of his shirt. "'m not gonna be mean, Aeth," he whispers into the column of his throat.

He wills his magick to his palm, raising the temperature slightly as he plucks at the waistband of Aether's boxers. His head presses further back into the pillows with a rumbling moan, baring his throat as he lifts his hips just enough for Dew to pull them down to his thighs.

The groan Dew pulls from Aether's lips when he wraps his warm hand around his half hard length is music to his ears. He presses his mouth to the column of his throat as he starts to stroke him, pressing soft kisses to his pulse. In any other situation, the pace Dew sets would easily be considered teasing. But here it's perfect, warm and slow and just enough to let the pleasure build like the tide coming in.

"Mm, fuck," Aether rumbles, low and quiet. Dew nuzzles at his jaw, thumb teasing at his slit to smear the pre beading there down his shaft. It's enough to smooth his strokes, and Aether groans again at the slide.

"That's it, starshine," Dew mumbles, breathing in Aether's scent, thick on the roof of his mouth. "Just want you to feel good, lemme take care of you like you take care of me."

Aether twitches in Dew's hand at his words, fingertip tracing the prominent vein along the side. Dew bites his lip, feeling himself start to perk up in interest, but he ignores it to listen to the way Aether's moans are broken up by soft chuffs. He pulls Dew a little closer to his side, hand fisted at the small of his back and holding onto his tank top. "Dewey," he breathes, eyes struggling to stay open as he looks at him.

"I've gotcha, big guy," Dew hums, feeling the purr start to kick up at the base of his throat. His other hand worms under Aether's head, just holding, blunt claws scratching lightly at the nape of his neck.

Aether chuffs louder, going completely boneless and relaxed. Just how Dew wants him. He relaxes so quickly that if it weren't for Aether's groans, Dew would have thought he'd fallen asleep on him.

Not that he'd blame him. It's been a long day, and it's late. Dew scratches at the nape of his neck just to hear him chuff louder.

"Just feel good f'me," Dew purrs, soft and low. Aether nods a little, violet eyes squeezed shut.

Dew startles a little when something touches his tail, but he almost whines when he realizes it's Aether's own wrapping around his. He strokes him a little faster, gives him a little more pressure.

The hand on the small of Dew's back moves up his spine until Aether has his fingers tangled in Dew's hair. He doesn't pull or tug, hand big enough to cup the entire back of his head. Dew purrs loudly, leg still hitched over Aether's.

"Fuck, darling," Aether groans when Dew twists his wrist just right at the tip of his cock. Dew smiles, leans up to press his forehead to Aether's. So close they breathe the same air.

"Yeah, that's it," Dew whispers. "Just feel good, baby."

Aether nods, their horns clicking together with the motion. "M'close," he admits, and Dew snakes his hand down even further to cup his balls for a moment, feels them start to draw up to his body.

"Like this?" Dew asks, lips brushing over his as he resumes his slow, lazy strokes. "Or do you want more? Anything you want."

Aether shakes his head, fingers tightening slightly in Dew's cornsilk fine hair. "Just want you, love," he whispers, the faintest furrow appearing in his brow, fangs sinking into his swollen bottom lip.

"You have me," Dew promises, eyes not leaving Aether's face. Drinks in every detail. Watches his nose scrunch up just a little before the pleasure makes his face go lax. His cock pulses in Dew's hands, cum splattering over his knuckles and the thick hair coating his belly.

Dew works him through it, savors every shiver and huff of breath until Aether's fingers tighten almost to the point of pain in his hair. His cock gives one last twitch, sticky and wet with release, and slowly begins to soften.

Aether just breathes, chest heaving, holding Dew close as he comes down. Dew makes no move to pull away, just ducks his head down to press his lips to Aether's pulse once again. He feels it hammering, blood and quintessence moving throughout his body, before slowly start to come back to its baseline.

They stay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, until Aether's cum starts to cool and dry, sticky and unpleasant. Dew lets go of Aether's dick, letting it rest against his hip, and starts to pull back from his embrace.

Aether makes a wounded noise, eyes flying open. "Nope, stay," he tries to persuade, a little quintessence seeping from where his fingers still touch Dew.

Dew shakes it off, laughing softly. "I'll be right back, you big softy. Don't wanna leave you all messy."

"Oh, come on," Aether grins mischievously. "Just the other day you said you wanted to-"

"Ah!" Dew cuts him off, laughing as he climbs out of their hearth. "None of that. Be right back."

He ducks into the bathroom to wet a washcloth, calling on his magick again to make it a comfortable temperature. Just as quick as he left, he's back, standing over Aether sprawled out in their hearth.

Aether's eyes open sluggishly, twin points of violet in the dark. When he sees Dew, his fingers twitch like he's trying to make grabby hands, too exhausted to put in the whole effort. "See?" Dew says as he starts to clean up the mess he made. "Said I'd be right back."

Aether chuffs softly, fingers still twitching as Dew cleans him up, pulling his boxers up and the hem of his shirt back down. "Thank you, darling," he mumbles, well on his way back to sleep. Dew just smiles, staring at him. It's nice to see him relaxed and sated like this.

He throws the washcloth in the general direction of their hamper and crawls back into their hearth. Dew presses a kiss to Aether's cheek before curling up against his side once again.

Aether pulls him close with one strong arm, the other reaching down to where Dew sits half hard against his own hip. Dew swats him away lightly. "'m alright, starshine," he murmurs, watching Aether struggle to stay awake. "Return the favor some other time."

Aether chuckles, fights to keep his eyes open as he stares down at Dew. "You sure, baby?"

Dew gives him another kiss on the cheek. He reaches up to trail a fingertip down the bridge of Aether's nose. Huffs a soft little laugh as Aether's eyes cross when he follows it. "I'm sure, Aeth," he says, settling happily into the crook of his arm and purring up a storm.

It's not long before sleep takes Aether in its hold once again, chest rising and falling deep and even. Dew, selfishly, stays awake a little while longer, just to watch. Aether's peaceful like this. Relaxed and warm and safe in the hearth that Dew made for him.

Dew shifts until his head is tucked under Aether's chin, mindful of his horns. Like this, he can hear Aether's heartbeat, steady just like him. Dew smiles, purring as he gets comfortable, and lets himself follow Aether to sleep.

[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.

[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."

[ofthemorningstars]

Cruel-Hearted Beasts

TerzOmega ~ Family Fic ~ Hurt/Comfort ~ Resurrection AU

3.8k words AO3 Version

" 'Now listen here, donna malvagia, I will not stand for my girls being treated like criminals, like second-class citizens! They have just as much of a right to stand up for themselves as anyone else!' Terzo roared.

'If you didn’t want your children to be treated like second-class citizens, perhaps you shouldn’t have laid down with a ghoul,' Ms. Voss sneered. "

Terzo and Omega's daughters (8 and 5) learn an unfortunate lesson about discrimination against ghouls within the ministry. CW: discrimination, vague depiction of light violence ---

Starlight stood over the rat-faced boy in the dirt, fist clenched and chest heaving. Her eyes were wide, full of anger and adrenaline and disbelief. 

She didn't know what happened. When she had heard her baby sister scream, had felt her calling out for help with her quintessence, she began blindly sprinting for the source of her plea. As she approached the scene and saw Astrid on the ground shielding her face against the older boy’s foot, ready to kick the helpless five year old, she lost it. She tackled him, sitting on his stomach and punching him repeatedly in the face, seeing red. 

The assault only ended when a Sister pulled her off of him, setting her down on her feet in front of Astrid. A young teenager stepped in to play referee, keeping the two offending parties apart until the Sister returned from wherever she had run off to. Starlight took Astrid by the hand and pulled her to her feet, dusting her off and examining her. Luckily she didn’t appear to be hurt physically, but her face was stained with tears and snot. Starlight wiped her little sister’s nose with her sleeve. “What did that boy do to you?” Starlight growled through gritted teeth, baring her fangs. Astrid only looked away, eyes fixed on her shoes as they filled with fresh tears. Starlight hugged her tightly, letting her sister cry into her shirt. When the Sister returned, it was with the director of their little makeshift school in tow, who glowered at them as she approached. As she helped the boy to his feet with what Starlight considered to be a little too much kindness, the girl growled again, a low rumble in her chest. The director shot her a look out of the corner of her eye, scrunching her nose up in what she could’ve sworn was disgust. “In my office, now! Both of you!” Her voice was just barely below a shout. Astrid whimpered, clinging to her sister. Starlight puffed out her chest in defiant outrage. 

“What?! But Astrid didn’t do anything, Ms. Voss! Avery was the one who–” “Enough! Save it, I don’t want to hear another word.” Ms. Voss marched them inside from the courtyard, down the ministry’s long hallways and into a cramped, dimly lit office. She motioned for them to sit down when Starlight stood there rubbing her arm uncomfortably. 

“Hitting another of the ministry’s children is absolutely unacceptable! We’ll call your parents and see what they have to say about all of this.” She spat the word “parents” in a way that made Starlight’s anger bubble up again, wondering why she said it like that. “I’m sure they won’t be pleased to hear about their daughter bloodying another child.” Starlight stiffened; she didn’t remember seeing any blood. She couldn’t tell if the woman was bluffing. 

They sat in uncomfortable silence, the girls holding hands, Starlight occasionally giving her sister a reassuring squeeze. She tried silently reaching out to Astrid with her quintessence, but to her dismay found herself being blocked out. The older girl’s heart began pounding in her chest as she heard footsteps racing down the hallway and the murmuring of voices, voices that she’d recognize anywhere. Their Papa burst through the door first, eyes wild and searching. When they landed on his daughters, he swiftly crossed the room to them, kneeling on the cold marble floor and placing a hand on each of their faces. “Oh, le mie dolci ragazze, are you alright? What happened, tell me what–” Terzo started before being rudely cut off by the sound of Ms. Voss aggressively clearing her throat. Starlight’s gaze flicked up to her as she rose to her feet, leaning forward on her desk with a grave look on her face. “Your daughters–,” there was that tone again, “--have disrupted class yet again, this time beating up a fellow child! Their behavior is disgraceful, especially in a place of unholy worship! We have rules, standards that must be followed!” She was beginning to look maroon, strands of her normally neat hair falling in her face. It was Omega’s turn to clear his throat. Starlight hadn’t even seen him come in. He looked uncharacteristically angry, his normally placid features masking barely concealed fury. “ Our daughters would never strike someone unless they were defending themselves,” Omega hissed through clenched teeth. His jaw was tight, his fists balled at his sides. Foolishly, Ms. Voss didn’t back down at this; if she was intimidated at all, she didn’t show it. “I’m afraid if they cannot behave in a civilized manner, they will no longer be allowed to mingle with the other children. We cannot have their influence rubbing off on the rest of them. We have allowed them to poison the flock long enough!” The vein in her forehead was popping out. Terzo shot to his feet, outraged. 

“Now listen here, donna malvagia, I will not stand for my girls being treated like criminals, like second-class citizens! They have just as much of a right to stand up for themselves as anyone else!” Terzo roared. 

“If you didn’t want your children to be treated like second-class citizens, perhaps you shouldn’t have laid down with a ghoul,” Ms. Voss sneered. 

Starlight’s dusky grey skin flushed dark purple, and Astrid began to sob, cowering against her sister. Omega had to drag all of them out of the room before things could escalate further, Terzo screaming and spitting all the way down the hall.

When they got back to their quarters, Terzo slammed the door behind him, leaning on it heavily and looking like he was trying not to let angry tears escape. Omega scooped up a still-crying Astrid, rubbing her back and shushing her as she buried her face in his shirt. Starlight took one of Terzo’s shaking hands in hers, looking up at him with eyes full of shame and sadness. Terzo did shed a tear then, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “La mia coraggiosa bambina. Please. What happened today? Do not listen to a word that vile woman said.” When Starlight hesitated, Terzo led them all to the kitchen table. Astrid sat in Omega’s lap, holding onto him for dear life and hiding her face. Terzo gave his oldest daughter a patient touch on the arm, and she swallowed hard. “I don't… know, Papa. Astrid called out for me, and then I was hitting him, I–” Starlight choked up, losing her battle against her tears. “She was on the ground, I saw Avery ab-about to kick her in the face and I just went crazy…” She bit her lip against a sob. “I didn’t know what to do. She’s my baby sister…” she trailed off in a whisper. Omega growled low beside her, losing the battle against his rage. Terzo stared at her slack-jawed. “Kick her… in the face…” Terzo repeated, as though unable to believe what he was hearing. His eyes shot to his youngest daughter, his features etched with sorrow. He got up to kneel beside Omega, brushing the hair out of Astrid’s face when she turned to look at him. She leaned into his touch, her mismatched eyes red and puffy. “What did he do to you, il mio piccolo amore?” “He pushed me d-down, Papa. He called me a-a ‘filthy ghoul’. He s-said that you were a disgrace to the name Emeritus for… for…” Astrid broke down into a fresh round of tears. Omega shushed her, running a hand through her hair. Starlight was stunned, unable to comprehend why someone would say something like that, especially to such a young child. As Terzo returned to his seat, Starlight could tell that their Papa had more questions, but was unwilling to push the already distraught girl any further. 

“Papa. Daddy. Why would someone say that to her? What’s wrong with being a ghoul?” Starlight asked, pain evident in her voice. She saw her parents exchange a long, agonized look as they sat in uncomfortable silence. Omega was the first to speak up, pulling Astrid closer to his chest. 

“My sweet girls… We were hoping that this conversation could wait until you were a little older.” Omega pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t really know how to say this...” 

“Within the ministry, ghouls have been looked down on and treated as servants for centuries. For as long as the ministry has been around, really. Things didn’t change until a few years before you were born, after your Papa d–” Omega cut himself off, quickly looking for a way to rephrase whatever it was that he had been about to say. “After your Papa was taken out of power. But then Uncle Copia became the one in charge and brought him back. When Papa agreed to work for the ministry again, his only condition was that the ghouls were freed from their servitude and were to be treated as equals.” She saw her Papa nod out of the corner of her eye

“But a lot of the people who have been in the clergy for a long time got used to them being regarded poorly.” Terzo took over. “They don’t respect ghouls, they still expect them to be subservient.” He was beginning to get worked up. “They are ignorant, they have hatred in their hearts. It is why Daddy and I waited so long to have you. We had to keep our relationship a secret.” 

“I don’t understand why they don’t like us, Papa!” Starlight’s voice broke, her vision becoming blurry with tears. “We’re people too!” She heard her Daddy sniffle, turning around to see him wiping at his eyes. She had rarely seen him cry before, and it left her shaken. “I don’t understand it either, la mia bellissima principessa,” Terzo said softly as he smoothed Starlight’s hair. “There are many wicked, cruel-hearted beasts that live within the ministry’s halls, and none of them are ghouls.” 

“You are not, and will never be, lesser than any human. You are incredibly special, and so very loved. We will never stop fighting for you. For all of us.” There was an air of finality in Omega’s voice that stressed the sincerity of his words. He meant it. “I do not think that we should send you back there. Clearly, it is not a safe or nurturing environment. Daddy is home nearly every day, he will do an excellent job of educating you.” Terzo didn’t sound like he was giving them a choice. “But Papa, we have friends there! Not everyone is like that, some of the kids are really nice!” Starlight pleaded, but Terzo’s face was set. “Papa…” Astrid’s voice was timid at first as she looked up from Omega’s chest. “I don’t want to leave my friends,” she sniffled. “It’s not fair, I d-don’t understand what I did wrong!” She began to hyperventilate, little claws digging into the fabric of Omega’s shirt, threatening to tear it. “I'm s-sorry, Papa! Please don’t make me leave!” she gasped between breaths. Terzo’s expression softened. Omega looked broken, rocking Astrid cradled in his arms as though she were a baby again. 

“I–” Terzo hesitated, interrupted by Astrid’s heart-wrenching cries. He appeared to think for a long minute, clumsily running his hands through his own hair. “Look. I will call Uncle Copia in the morning and tell him about everything that has happened. I do not want to take you away from your friends,” he assured them both gently. “You cannot go back with things being the way that they are now. But maybe he can pull some strings and… help fix this. Tomorrow you will stay home so that we can get things sorted out. Ok?” Starlight nodded. It took Astrid a little while to calm down again, but once her breathing returned to normal, she nodded as well. They sat with their parents at the table for a while, being comforted until they were settled enough to go on with their night as a family. When they were able to handle parting, Omega cooked everyone dinner while the girls sat curled up with their Papa on the sofa, going through family photo albums and baby books. Their parents had worked hard to meticulously document their lives together since being able to live in the open as a couple. They wanted to hold onto all of their cherished memories, preserving them for both themselves and their children. Maybe for their grandchildren as well, someday, if they were lucky. “Papa,” Astrid asked, sounding more like herself than she had all day. “Are there any pictures of when you and Daddy got married?” Terzo made a face like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Ah… Unfortunately not. We got married a very long time ago, alone and in secret.” He didn’t need to say why their wedding happened under such circumstances. It lingered heavily in the air, darkening the atmosphere again. “When did you get married?” Starlight asked, trying to lift the mood. Terzo chuckled brightly. “Over thirty years ago now.” His expression was wistful. “Wow, that’s a long time!” Astrid said in awe. “You’re old, Papa.” Terzo winced. “I know, my darling. I know.” 

When Omega called them for dinner, Starlight and Astrid raced each other to the kitchen, quickly cleaning their plates and asking for seconds. Starlight hadn’t realized how hungry she had been; they had been pulled out of class before their afternoon snack, but the horrors of the day had numbed them both to the passage of time. 

Omega decided that they would be turning in early that night when an exhausted Astrid nearly fell asleep in her ice cream. They quickly took baths and got ready for bed. Astrid was out the second her head hit the pillow. Starlight was wide awake, but skipped her nightly bedtime story. She wasn’t feeling up to it. She was still deeply affected by the things she had heard. By the agony she had felt radiating off of her baby sister, and later, her Daddy. Omega didn’t need his quintessence to pick up on her distress, but he could use it to ease it away. He sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his, squeezing. Leaning down, he pressed their foreheads together, an unnecessary but comforting step for them when they connected. Her mind was flooded with tranquil waves of warmth and peace, their bond overflowing with unconditional love. Soon her eyelids began to feel heavy. The last thing she remembered before the world went dark was the feeling of her Daddy kissing her cheek.

—

Terzo was perched on the edge of their bed, anxiously biting his nails nearly down to the beds while he waited for Omega to return from getting Starlight to sleep. He hadn’t intended to leave before both of his girls were asleep, but he knew the energy he was giving off wasn’t conducive to helping sensitive little quintessence ghouls rest. He felt sick to his stomach with worry. He hurt for his children, for his husband. None of them deserved any of this. Guilt consumed him, his inability to protect his family making him feel like a failure. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Omega approaching. He peered up at his husband, trying to give him his most convincing smile. Omega wasn’t buying it. “Tesoro mio, I can feel you down the hallway. I don’t know why you bother trying to hide from me, after all these years.” Omega pressed a kiss to the top of Terzo’s head before sitting down beside him. Terzo leaned on him heavily, trying not to break under the weight of everything that had transpired within the last few hours. “What are we going to do?” Terzo whispered, closing his eyes against tears. Omega thought for a moment. “It’s only eight-thirty, we can still call Copia. I’m not sure what he can do about it this late, but I know you well enough to know that this will eat at you until you do something about it.” It only took Terzo a few moments to agree, quickly pulling out his phone and dialing his brother. 

To say that Copia was outraged would, blessedly, be an understatement. When he’d gotten the whole retelling out, Terzo had to hold the phone away from his ear to preserve his hearing against the volume of his brother’s tirade. It felt validating to have someone else feel a fraction of the anger that he felt over the situation, even if it didn’t make it better. 

They were stuck on where to go from here, the situation complicated by alliances and bullshit ministry politics. When Terzo bitterly suggested sending her to the pit, Copia calmed, beginning to back-peddle the conversation. Killing her was not an option, Copia insisted, making Terzo roll his eyes. In his anger for his daughters, he was tempted to call Copia a coward, but he knew that was unfair. He knew from firsthand experience how hard it was to balance the demands of so many forces pulling you in warring directions. “What if I fire her, so to speak? Have her moved somewhere like kitchen duty, eh?” Copia sounded pleased with himself. Terzo clenched his jaw. 

“That could be even worse, you idiot! What if she started messing with the food?! She could poison the girls!” Terzo was getting worked up again. He was fighting hard to keep his voice down.

“Ok ok, maybe not the kitchens, but you get my point!” Copia conceded. “No.” He wasn’t budging on this. “No, fratello, after all the shit that we have been through, that you have put us through, you owe me. Excommunicate her at the very least.” “Terzo, you know that wasn’t my fault! Do you know how much shit I’ll get for–” “ I don’t care,” Terzo hissed. “The girls will be going back to class next week, and there will be a different administration in place, or so help me I will make you regret the day you were born.” His tone was final. There was a long pause, followed by a weary sigh. “Ok. Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” With that, Terzo hung up the phone, too frazzled and pissed off to bother with a goodbye. He flopped back on the bed and was quickly joined by Omega, who was equally as done with this wretched day. They lay there for what felt like an hour, but in reality was probably closer to ten minutes. Terzo was beginning to drift off when he felt a tendril of his husband’s quintessence reach out to softly brush against his mind, asking to be let in. Terzo could feel the lingering hurt and insecurity in the request and eagerly accepted, flinging the doors to his emotional world wide open. Before either of them knew what was happening, they were both overcome with the torment that Omega had been barely suppressing all day. Terzo felt Omega’s overwhelming, aching guilt at having passed the curse of his ghoulish nature on to his daughters. His sense of failure for not having been able to protect them, to not have gotten them out of such a hostile environment, to not have set them up for a brighter future somehow. He shared that he sometimes wondered if Terzo would have been better off if they had never met. A ragged gasp tore through Terzo, feeling like a hole was being ripped in his heart by the depths of Omega’s suffering.

Terzo drew Omega’s trembling form into his arms, doing his best to console the ghoul who made up the other half of his soul. He told him how much he loved him, how much their girls loved him, how proud he was of him. He reminded him of how highly he regarded ghouls, of how much respect and dignity he knew them to be owed. Terzo assured him that he wouldn’t change a single thing about him or their beautiful children, that he wouldn’t even think about it for a second. Their circumstances had always been so unfair… He tried to stay strong for Omega, but soon they were crying in each other’s arms, clinging tightly. Unsure of what else to do to ease his partner’s suffering, Terzo concentrated on focusing and amplifying the love he had for his husband and for their family, making sure it infiltrated every cell of Omega’s body. Gradually Omega’s breath steadied, evened out, and soon they were still. Terzo looked at him, relieved to see something resembling peace on his face. 

“Omega?” Terzo called feebly, worn out from the effort. Omega opened his eyes and hummed in response. Terzo cupped Omega’s face in his hands, stealing a tender kiss. “Nothing that happened today is your fault, mio caro. Please. I need you to know this. You are the most wonderful father and husband we could have ever asked for. We love you. We need you...” Omega closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath before hesitantly nodding. Terzo kissed him again, and when they broke apart they kept their lips pressed together, basking in the presence and warmth of the other. They both needed to be close, were craving skin to skin contact. “C’mon, mio amato, let’s go take a shower. Let the heat melt some of the stress away,” Omega proposed. Terzo thought that sounded like a great idea, if only he could find the strength to stand. Omega got up first, carefully pulling Terzo to his feet and steadying him as he wobbled. Omega began to lead him towards the ensuite, but Terzo resisted. “Wait. Let me go check on the girls first, amore,” Terzo requested. Omega nodded, giving his hand a firm squeeze before he let go. Omega started the water while Terzo crept down the hall, careful not to wake their children. The creak of the door rang out in the quiet darkness, amplified by his own lingering anxiety. He cursed the squeaky hinges, wondering why they never got around to fixing them. 

When Terzo peeked his head around the corner, he found Astrid’s bed empty. Looking around the room with momentary concern, he spied his youngest child in her older sister’s bed, their hands clasped on top of the covers. Astrid’s other hand clutched her baby blanket tightly to her chest, the one her Daddy knitted for her before she was born. Terzo’s heart warmed at the sight. He couldn’t help the smile that followed him all the way back to the shower. That night, as they did every other night, Terzo and Omega fell asleep safe and warm in each other's arms.

[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.”

[serene-sun]

𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Pairing: anyone x reader

Warnings: SH, blood, cuts, your being doctored

“Are you ok? You’ve been in there awhile,” his voice says from behind the bathroom door.

I wipe my face and quickly clear my throat of the tears and sorrow that filled it. “I’m fine, stomach just hurts.” I lie.

“You’ve been in there a long time though.” He draws out the ‘long’ part and it makes my heart ache.

How could I do something to such a caring person?

I sniffle as my voice breaks, “I’m fine.”

I continue dabbing at the deep cuts on my thigh with the wet cloth, I double-check to be sure the door is locked.

“What’s going on? Why are you on the floor?” He asks a little more concerned.

I stumbled to find the right words, I guess he can see my shadow, or maybe the edge of my socks is poking out from under the door. “Uh..”

It’s like every word I spit out makes more bright red blood surface my pale skin.

“Please open the door,” he demands as he raddles the door nob.

I panic and try to pull my pants back on with a hiss, I swallow the pain. After all, it’s what I wanted.

I open the door and hope the puffiness of my red cheeks and swollen lips from being picked won’t give off how horrible I’ve been doing.

He looks at me like his heart shattered as soon as the door so much as cracked

“Oh, what happened?” He asks as he places a hand on my shoulder, he wants to hug me, I can feel it.

“Nothing, what happened to you?” I try to play it off but his eyes dart down to my now bloody jeans.

Shit.

I want to cry, I want to drop to the floor and forget about this world. Maybe if I push him away he will get the idea but it’s too late as he pushed passed me to grab a towel.

His eyes see the smudged blood on the toilet seat and counter, his whole body stops as his shoulder relaxes after taking in the scene.

I start to cry.

“Please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, please don’t be mad I never wanted you to see.” I blurt out a train of apologies as he looks back at me with low and sad eyes.

It sucks because of how beautiful he looks in the dim hallway light that fills the small bathroom. His eyes give off a warm feeling of protection. I started to cry harder, if he was mad he would start yelling already. Or maybe he's like the others and would get aroused at the pink strokes across my skin.

“Here, sit down and take your pants off.” He says as he grabs the alcohol from under the sink.

I don’t want to make him mad so I just do as he says and wait, he’s never been mad at me though. Not even when I mess up or talk too much, or even when I beat him in that band competition in middle school.

The way his whisky-colored eyes swell with tears makes my heart shatter, I know I hurt him and I know it’s my fault. It sends a wave of pain piercing down my body, but the feeling of a wet makeup pad dabbing the wound drowns it out as I’m brought back to reality

“I’m sorry,” I try to say, but it’s interrupted with another silent cry.

“No reason to be sorry, I understand that this is what helps you cope.” He says as he cleans the blood off of my leg.

I was shocked at his words, everyone else just looked at me disgusted or yelled questions at me. Why is he so forgiving?

“Promise me you will let me help you, and don’t make this a dangerous thing.” He adds as he grabs gauze.

I just nodded, I didn’t know what else to do. “Ok,”

“Alright,” he replies as my tears dry and makes my face raw.

“I’m sorry,” I conclude.

“No reason to be,” he flashes me an honest smile before carefully sliding my pants back on.

“I’m sorry.” I look him in the eyes this time as I’m overwhelmed with a sense of care.

“I know, I love you.” He hugs me

[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

[smgsyndicate]

Mountain X Dewdrop Fic

Wordcount: no clue

Plot based off this pic and thank you to @bloodysyren for the idea of using the quote! Sorry if this is bad I rushed it because I had an idea and needed it DONE

No TWs, just light angst comfort

With the coming of December, winter comes barreling along with it. The cool breezes quickly turn to chills, humans and ghouls a-like bundling up. Mountain wakes slowly, stretching wide with a small yawn. His body quivers with a shiver, the warmth of his blankets leaving him as he sits up and prepares for the day.

As one of the fluffier ghouls, his fur makes it easier to drag himself out of bed. He wonders if Dew will need dragged out, his water element always making him so- ... Right. A dreadful sigh leaves the drummer. Dewdrop changed elements. He forgot.

The element change wasn't necessarily bad, but a natural slow growing rift between the earth ghoul and ex-bassist left him hesitant to talk with him. Shaking out the cold from his body one more time, he pulls on a dark green hoodie with a frog on it, a gift from a fan at one of the rituals.

The earth ghoul slowly makes his way to the kitchen, intent on getting some sort of hot drink into his body before going around the abbey and lighting the fire places. He doesn't have to, it's not a chore assigned to him. He simply wants to.

Mountain half-notices the fact he's not freezing his tail off, but the sleepy part of his brain doesn't realize. He makes his hot tea, humming Cirice under his breath to keep himself awake while it brews, before heading out to the common room to start on the fires.

He passes by some of the rooms, noticing the lit kindle already burning. The drummer's brow furrows, continuing onto his destination. Upon seeing more, he smiles and sees that it's already done everywhere.

With a new mission of laying around doing nothing until the others awaken, Mountain walks to the sofa in the living room of the ghoul wing. He hopes to see Ifrit and snuggle up for some warmth while he's at it, assuming the kind fire ghoul lit everything.

His mouth twitches to a frown upon seeing the unlit fire in the living room. As he grows near, he sees a figure sitting slumped in front of the fireplace. ".. Dewdrop?"

Dewdrop never takes his eyes away from the smouldered wood, implying he did light it at some point. He hums vaguely in acknowledgement. "Dew... What're you doing?"

The guitarist sits up a bit straighter, not making eye contact with the earth ghoul. "Could ask the same to you. Aren't you cold? I know I would've been." Mountain winces at the reminder of the old Dew.

".. Yes. I'll admit, I am quite cold. I usually light the fires in the morning then go find Ifrit to snuggle up with." He mentions with a slight amusement at the fact his band mate is a living heater. He pauses, biting his lip as he debates his next words.

"I know you're not the one I'm looking for but... I'm so cold and a fire is a fire." He mumbles, moving closer to sit by Dewdrop. Mountain can feel the heat radiating from him already, drawing him closer like a moth to a flame.

Dew chuckles humourously, a hurt, wounded sound. "A burnt child loves the fire. After all the pain it causes, the moth goes back to the light and the child for the flame."

His eyes drift over to the singed patch of fur on Mountains arm, a small accident when Dew first transitioned. He couldn't control his element and actually nicked Mountain. Despite the many reassurances that he didn't feel it and it didn't go past the fur, Dewdrop never forgave himself. Fire is just destruction, after all.

Mountain sighs, sighing dramatically. "Oh no, it looks like I won't have a snuggle buddy... No one to wear my hoodies. Oh! And there's no one to lay on top of me. Sigh. .. SIGH." Dew can't help the surprised laugh bubbling out of his mouth from the drummer's antics.

Of course his band mate knew everything he loved. He couldn't help but wag his tail and look at Mountain with fake annoyance, amusement evident. "Oh shut up you big tree, get over here."

The fire ghoul launches at the taller one, knocking him over with a playful growl. Mountain lets out a surprised chirp, laughing as he just wraps his arms around his attacker and nuzzles against the top of his head, purring despite the shorter one's protests.

"Awe, you do love me! Now light the fire so we can actually go cuddle." Dewdrop sighs but listens, setting the wood ablaze before nuzzling into Mountains chest. "You said weighted blanket time, now you have to carry me."

Mountain sighs. "Fair enough. Come on princess, up you go." He stands up with Dew in his arms, a slight struggle but not all that bad. Hes silent as he walks before quietly whispering, "I missed you my firelily."

Dewdrop's breath hitches, eyes watering slightly. He and Mountain haven't talked this much since the transition and slight burn. The modified nickname of water lily to fire lily makes him clutch the earth ghoul closer, heart heavy with emotion.

"I missed you too, my terra."

[writingjourney]

Hiiii! I was wondering if you could maybe write about copia struggling to do his makeup and asks (y/n) for help?

let me help | copia x gn!reader

Thank you for your suggestion anon, it inspired me to this little fic. It may be a bit different from what you had in mind but I hope you enjoy it anyway :) @leezlelatch here it is ♡

summary: your papa is overworked and tired, too shaky to do his own make-up, so you offer to help. content: 2.1k words, some mild hurt/comfort, established relationship

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦ 

A strong gale blew thick and heavy snowflakes against your window all night, leaving a plump white pillow on the sill that’s now covering half of the glass pane. You woke up multiple times as the wind howled in the cracks of the abbey’s old stone walls like a wolf calling to the moon, only ceasing in the early hours of the morning. As you get ready for the day now, the sky has cleared up and the soft glow of a rising sun paints your quarters in warm hues of orange. You lift your hand and let the warm rays of sunshine dance over your fingers.

It’s all quiet at this time of day and you’re sitting on your shared bed, pulling on some warm socks while Copia does his make-up. He’s perched on a wide, upholstered stool in front of the vanity he got when you moved in with him. Anything so he wouldn’t occupy the bathroom all morning, so he can share some more time with you while getting ready. 

The sunlight hits the back of his head, his hair still tousled and sticking up at odd angles. You love observing him as he gets ready. While clumsy at first the process of painting his face has now gone over into muscle memory and watching his nimble fingers get to work each morning is a sight to behold. His brow is always furrowed in concentration, deepening the adorable wrinkles on his forehead as he draws precise black lines onto his features. His lips stay tightly pressed together through the whole process right until he finally has to relaxe them to apply his lipstick. 

It’s the same procedure every single morning.

Well, except for today.

“Ahhhh, cazzo.” 

His sudden curse makes you look up and you catch him furiously scrubbing at his cheek, almost violently wiping away some of his black paint. A blotchy gray rim remains around the red patch of skin he just rubbed raw.

“What is it, my love?” you ask, worried he’s going to seriously hurt himself.

Copia sighs in defeat, setting down the black paint in frustration only to stare at it in mild disgust. You observe him over the mirror but he doesn’t look up at you, a heavy air of sadness hanging over him.

“Ugh… I feel a little shaky today,” he finally says, staring at his trembling hand. “I cannot get it right.”

You’re aware Copia has dealt with a rough few days – sleeping restlessly, feeling unwell from all the stress, skipping meals in order to get more work done. It’s hardly surprising that he’s shaking, already overworked and worn out with another long day looming ahead of him.

You scoot off the bed and make your way over to your exhausted Papa. His eyes find yours in the mirror as you approach, and he makes space for you on the stool. It’s a tight fit but you sit down sideways, facing Copia instead of the mirror.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you take his hands in yours.

“Helping.” You bring them to your mouth, gently kissing each individual knuckle. You can feel his tremor, feel his tension against your lips. He slowly eases up as you continue to kiss him, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. Copia sighs softly and when you look up, he’s smiling weakly at you and you already know what he’s going to ask next.

“Amore… how do I even deserve you?”

“You deserve all my love, don’t you ever question that.“ You give him a playfully stern look, followed by a pout, and his cheeks turn all rosy. “Now let me do your make-up.” 

“You– you want to–“

“I’ve seen you do it a hundred times. I think I should be capable by now.”

“That’s not…” He swallows, softly shaking his head. “Not what I meant.”

His tone is enough to tell you exactly what he did mean. Do you really want to do this for me? Painting my face, something you’ve never done before, to help me when I feel so vulnerable right now?

“Yes, I want to.” You let go of his hands to reach out for his face, slowly rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks. “My love, I know I cannot shoulder your burdens, I cannot paint my face and be Papa for you, but I can try to give you as much love and support and care as I can. And if that means packing you lunch to make sure you eat, rubbing your back when it’s sore from sitting all day, popping in to help you with paperwork or even doing your make-up because you’re too worked up over the day ahead, I will happily do it.”

His eyes close and he takes a deep breath, smiling as a single tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much, amore. You are my everything.”

It pains you to see him like this, so bone-tired, so defeated, really. He is your everything too and to admit that you can’t simply make all of this go away hurts. You lean in to kiss away the tear, add a few more kisses to his cheeks for good measure and an especially soft one to his lips. “I love you, too, Copia. More than you can imagine.”

You break away and he opens his eyes, huffing out a slightly embarrassed laugh. “Uhm, yes… so… should we start?”

“Mhm.” You reach for the white paint and decide to fix the spot he had been rubbing raw earlier. The redness is mostly gone but you’re still careful as you apply the face paint with a beauty blender. At first Copia watches you, still with that hint of disbelief in his eyes that you’re actually willing to do this for him, but then he slowly closes them and relaxes into your gentle care. Once his whole face is covered in an even shade of white, you pick up the black paint again. You find a brush and dip it in, trying to get a feeling for how much you need.

“Do you… uh…” Copia looks around, probably searching for his phone. “If you need a picture, for reference…”

“No, I don’t think so.” You chuckle, reaching for his chin to make him look at you. “I’ve been staring at your handsome face so many times, I’m sure I could do it in my sleep. Just relax, amore, I will get it right, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he immediately says, ears turning red at the use of his pet name. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to doubt you, tesoro. It’s just…”

“I know, it’s okay. Just relax, please.” You give him a genuine smile, raising your eyebrows until he finally returns it. Of course it seems a little forced, he’s still anxious, still tired, but it’s better than nothing. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes his features, allowing you to start with the black paint.

It takes you a while to get his whole face done since you’re trying to be as careful as possible. Admittedly, you’re a little shaky too, but with the help of the brush and working very slowly, you get the lines straight anyway. Copia tries very hard not to flinch or move his face, but he does blink a few times as you draw the lines around his eyes. You’re doing his eyelids when he blinks yet again, the timing unfortunate as his lashes hit the brush and some of the paint gets into his white eye. He hisses and tears up immediately, squinting hard in pain.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry,” you mumble, pulling away as fast as you can.

He raises a hand to your arm, the hurt eye still tightly screwed up. “Don’t, please, it happens.” 

Copia hands you a tissue and you gently dab at the tears before they mess up the rest of his make-up, waiting until his eye stops leaking. An agonising minute later he manages to keep it open, the white iris surrounded by a now very red sclera. It looks worse than it probably is but it still scares you and you take a few deep breaths before you decide to continue with your finger instead of the offending brush.

“Is it okay now?” you ask.

“It is. Thank you,” Copia whispers. “You’re doing so well, amorino. Don’t worry about it.”

You smile at his praise, though you’re not sure if he’s being quite truthful about the pain. Nevertheless, you apply the rest of the paint, even more cautiously now, until it’s almost done and only the lips are left.

It’s not the first time you see his whole face covered in make-up with only his lips bare, it’s basically a slightly cleaner version of what he looks like after a good make-out session – once all of his lipstick has transferred to your face. And he does have very beautiful lips, so plump and pink and practically begging to be kissed. They always feel so soft against yours and when he’s gentle–

Copia must see you staring at them because his fingers find your chin, slowly lifting your gaze until your eyes meet and he smirks. “Are you distracted, tesorino?”

You fight a smile. “What if I am, Papa? Are you going to fire me?”

“Oh, I could never do this, no.” He smirks knowingly. “Your Papa enjoys having all of your attention way too much, amore.”

That’s enough to make you close the gap and finally kiss him. He smiles into it and before you can pull away, his hands find your cheeks, keeping you exactly where you are. His fingers gently move into your hair, tilting your head up before he deepens the kiss. You sink against him with a sigh, hoping this won’t do too much damage to his paint. But that thought is forgotten as soon you feel his teeth grazing your bottom lip, asking for more. You let him kiss you breathless as you taste the remnants of minty toothpaste on his tongue and it’s enough to make you crave him so badly. But he’s tired enough already, you can feel him losing his energy as the kiss gets more sluggish and he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Promise me to take it easy today,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m so worried about you, Copia.”

He lets out a sigh, the exhale ghosting over your tender lips before he whispers back. “Ti voglio tanto bene. For you I promise anything, anything. I try my best to get home early tonight, sì? We can continue this without hurry.”

“Yes, please.” You smile, running your thumb along his jawline. “And I love you too. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“How could I? Whenever I look in a mirror today I will be reminded, eh?” He presses a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away. “Now, I think I’m already late.”

He’s right, you’ve taken way too long. So, you reach for the black lipstick and carefully follow the curves of his still kiss-swollen mouth, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in your belly. You blot his lips with a tissue after you’re done and fix some of the white paint your kiss messed up again. Once you’re done, he looks just like always. The only difference is the warm, affectionate smile that now graces his features, the twinkle in his eyes that belongs to you and only you.

“Thank you, amore,” he says, inspecting himself in the mirror. “È veramente perfetto. You did so well. I want to kiss you again so bad, but I would ruin it.”

Instead, he blows you a bunch of kisses and you giggle as you pretend to catch them. Copia gives you the first enthusiastic smile you’ve seen on him all day and it doesn’t leave his face as he combs his hair back, smoothes out his black dress shirt and tugs at the sleeves.

Then he suddenly jumps up, raising his hands. “Tada!” He does a little spin, almost stumbling over the leg of the stool. “How do I look, eh? Tell your Papa what you think. Be honest.” 

“You look bellissimo!” you say, clapping your hands as you grin at him. “The most handsome Papa to ever grace these halls.”

“Ha! And it’s all thanks to my very talented amore. I am so lucky, molto molto fortunato!”

You stand up as well, let him pull you into a tight embrace. He’s solid and his arms feel strong as they squeeze you to his body. He’s not quite recovered, and you know it will take more time, will take you a lot of convincing to get Sister to reduce his workload, but you can tell he’s feeling better for now.

And that’s what truly matters.

thanks for reading :) if you want more comfort fics check out this fic, this fic or this fic hehe ♡

[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.”