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lilspacewolfie · 2 months

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Papas Caring For Hospitalized Reader

Spawned from pure self-indulgence. I've been through more hospital visits these last four weeks than I have my entire life. I want someone to bundle me up and make my hand better. I hate hospitals and operations *sobs*. Enjoy nonetheless!

Content: 2k words, Papas x gn!reader, SFW, bullet-pointed format, mentions of hospitals, needles (only mentioned), mention of general anaesthetic, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, lots of sweetness, you're getting pampered, no beta we die like nihil!)

This man will do everything in his power to make sure you’re looked after and relaxed.

Tea for days! He will try different flavours until he finds the one you like.

Dives headfirst into deep research as to which herbs help your injury heal, as well as calm your nerves. He knows his plants well, but he wants to know more. You deserve the best of the best.

Insists on going with you for infirmary visits even when you tell him you’re fine (you’re not really, but you just don't want him to worry.)

He will anyway.

Chronic worrier, especially given his age.

He takes his health VERY seriously, yours too! The Ministry has the best medical care around.

If you need a wound cleaned, stitches taken out, or other medicines, it's the place to get it.

Primo will be with you as much as he’s able to, even if that means he’s sitting for a long time while you’re being treated.

When you’re free and discharged—bandaged, bruised and probably feeling sore, he’ll take you back to his room for some TLC.

Will have a bath or shower with you, (in his jungle of a washroom), depending on what you prefer and smother you with all your favourite scents.

He’s a deeply caring individual and shows it openly.

Will speak gently to you, whisper sweetly and ensure you’re not overstimulated more than you have been.

“Shh, I know. I know amore. It’ll be over soon, just breathe for me.”

He knows how much you hate hospital/doctor visits.

You can squeeze his hand if you want.

If you need space for a bit after everything, he’ll gladly give it.

If not, prepare to receive a lot of kisses, especially on your forehead (a lot of them, like… SO many.)

He will help you bathe if you’re unable to, running a foaming washcloth over your skin carefully.

Let him wash your hair! It’s one of the things he adores doing for you!

Once you’re washed, warm and feeling more relaxed it’s time for more tea in bed with a snack if you want one!

He insists. Even if you don't feel like eating, try to drink something for him <3

“It will help you feel good and relax, Il mio fiore.” (My flower)

Fluids are important (wink-wonk).

Reminds you to take your meds like clockwork (always with tea and water)

You’re his petalo (petal) and he loves you dearly.

Will wrap you up in the mountain of blankets and faux furs he has on his lush bed. He’s old, he feels the cold more than others. At least he has you to keep him warm.

Secondo hates when you’re hurt/hurting in any capacity.

Even if it's something minor, he’ll worry about it to the point where he loses sleep over it.

He’s a big, brooding mother hen.

The Emeritus curse of being a chronic worrier doesn’t stop at Primo.

This man wants you to be okay and it kills him when you’re not.

Will also go with you to the infirmary and stay with you.

The staff always find him a little intimidating, but they know he’s just worried sick. He’s kind to everyone, but honestly, he won't speak much unless spoken to.

“Are you alright, mio tesoro?” Is what he mainly asks, his voice so low it's close to a rumble.

Tries his best to make you feel relaxed.

Will make really, god-awful dad jokes that are so bad you do laugh.

He will quietly hold your hand the entire time, rubbing his bare fingers over our knuckles.

You rarely see him remove his gloves in public, but he HAS to be touching you. He insists.

He’s had enough knocks and breaks in his life to know how fragile the human body can be, but also how incredible it is at self-repair.

That doesn’t mean he views you as a fragile thing that needs to be wrapped in wool, but he loves you so deeply he would if you let him.

He admires your strength and resolve as you put up with being poked and prodded (by needles or with doctors.)

Once you’re released from care, good luck getting him to be anywhere less than within touching distance.

You’re getting a kiss. Lots of them. Mostly chaste and gentle.

You can tell it's because he worries about hurting you.

He relaxes a bit more when you kiss him HARD and bite at his bottom lip.

Will also help you bathe and shower. Again, touching distance. Just let him be near you for his own sanity.

Though he wouldn’t be upset if you need some space. He’s very understanding if you’re overstimulated.

Will linger outside the door in case you need anything.

Let him dry you off and dress you in comfortable clothes. He can see you that way.

He can see you’re still with him and that you’re safe.

He’ll touch you slowly, running his large hands over your skin.

Will spoon you once you’re in bed or let you curl into him.

He’ll bury his nose in your hair, breathe you in and say a wordless prayer to Lucifer that you recover quickly.

“Ti amo.” You hear him whisper as he presses a kiss to your forehead and strokes your hair.

Only falls asleep once he’s sure you have, holding you close the entire night.

Terzo. Oh, Terzo.

Emeritus curse of being a chronic worrier? Check. Turn it up to eleven.

Unlike Secondo, Terzo is open with his worries.

He’s a fair mix of his brothers, both gentle and occasionally stoic given the shape you’re in.

If it's something minor, he’ll try to play it off with a bit of humour like he tends to do. He’ll make bad jokes (oh ho, you thought Secondo’s were bad just wait for this.)

If it’s something you need an operation for, this man will be silently out of his mind. *insert any internally screaming gif here*

He takes pride in his appearance, but you’ll start to notice cracks—dishevelled hair, a button not done up or a smudge of his paint.

It would worry you more if he didn’t have Omega or one of his brothers to make sure he’s drinking and eating regularly.

Tries to hide his stress. Fails. Rinse and repeat.

He doesn’t want you to worry about him, you’re the one in pain, about to be put under and Lucifer… What's he going to do if something happens?

He loves you. Adores you. You’re his life.

He knows how much you hate being stuck in hospitals and it pains him to see you stressed. The last thing he wants to do is add to that, so he’ll play it cool.

When you go in he’s pacing the halls.

Rest assured, the healthcare of the Ministry has you in safe hands.

It puts Terzo at ease, but don't expect him to leave your side when everything is over. He will sit at your bedside, kiss your knuckles and stroke your hair.

Let him touch you. Just let him.

He’s been through so much heartache in his life.

Will kiss each of your fingers and whisper sweet words to you.

“You’ll be okay, vita mia. Cuore mio. I’m here. I’m with you.” (My life. My heart.)

Maybe he’ll hum some songs too.

You’re his everything.

Once you’re ready and well enough to leave, you’re getting pampered to hell and back. This man worships the ground you walk on.

Whatever you want it's not too much. A bath? A shower? Just to get into bed and fall asleep? Terzo’s right there with you.

Dinner in his massive, plush bed with your favourite movie.

When you’re ready to sleep he’ll plaster himself to you. He would crawl inside your skin if he could.

Fitful sleeper. Wakes up a few times just to make sure you’re ok.

Eventually sleeps soundly once you kiss his worries away.

Stroke his hair. He’s a sucker for that!

*Copia is not Nihil’s son in my verses/AUs unless explicitly stated.*

He’s learned bad habits from the Papas it seems.

Worrier. Yes, it's chronic. Seriously, are we sure this isn’t like the flu?

Paces a lot.

Good luck getting him to sit still.

If he's not pacing, he’s as close to you as physics will allow.

Lots of touching. Will rest his head by your hip if he’s tired from all that pacing.

Perfect opportunity to run your fingers through his hair.

He’ll hold your hands and kiss your knuckles.

All that stress tires him out.

“Mi dispiace, amore. Non sto aiutando,” he’ll whisper brokenly. (I'm sorry, amore. I'm not helping.)

You two probably end up curled up on the bed of the infirmary together if you have been waiting a while. A nap won't hurt.

You kiss slowly as you get comfortable, limbs tangled.

The angle is a bit awkward.

The sleep helps but he’s still going to be stressed when he wakes up.

Will get you anything you need. A drink or food, perhaps one of the really nice yogurts they do at the visitor's cantine.

Will ask the nurses and doctors SO many questions. He likes to be informed. Gets stressed if anything is unclear.

Maybe he should be in this infirmary bed and not you.

Prepare to be coddled once you’re discharged.

You’re both taking a long, hot bath or shower.

He wants to wash you down so he can see you and make sure you’re ok. Lots of tender kisses to your skin.

Ends up with you in his arms under the hot water just swaying together.

You’re wearing his clothes. No, not just because he likes how they look on you but because they’re baggy and won't irritate your skin *cough*. Sure Copia.

He’ll order your favourite food and you can watch a movie in his room together.

Will mother hen you, constantly ask if you need anything, and make sure your water glass is full.

He probably will cry. It’s just been so much.

You can cry together if you want. You both understand.

Also like clockwork when it comes to medication (if you’re taking any.)

Curls up in bed with you. You both sleep like the dead after such a long, stressful day.

Breakfast in bed when you wake up.

*Copia is not Nihil’s son in my verses/AUs unless explicitly stated.*

Copia might not be of the Emeritus blood, but unholy shit does the curse of being a chronic worrier catch like wildfire.

He’s Papa now he’s gotta be strong.

Will put on a brave face. But underneath he’s still the cardinal he was years back.

He’ll worry and fret and pace. There's no changing some things.

While he’s outwardly less anxious, this poor man has so much weighing on his shoulders after he took over to front the band.

Inwardly it's chaos.

His hair is never quite as smoothed back as it normally is and his paint is a touch worn.

There are some things you can't change about a man. Not really.

Prepare to be coddled, again. The mother hen has never left the coop.

He’s going to pamper you when he gets you back to his room. Of course, you’re staying with him, he’s not letting you go.

So. Many. Kisses.

This man loves kissing you. He adores you so.

A bath in his spacious tub is just what the doctor ordered. You lay against him and relax in the dim with only the light of candles.

Finally lets himself cry.

You shush him, kiss him and remind him that you love him and that you’re ok.

He loves you so much he can't even express it. The thought of losing you kills him.

He tries to push your hands away when you take a cloth to his paint. You’re the one who's been hurt and poked at all day, he’s supposed to be caring for you!

Eventually relents because you both know you need this.

More kisses and mutual washing. You love seeing how his skin pinkens across his cheek, arms and back. It brings out the pretty freckles all over his body.

When you both get into bed, tangled up again, Copia will whisper how much he loves you until he’s too tired to talk anymore.

You both sleep like the dead.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

#ghost #the band ghost #papa emeritus i #primo #papa emeritus i x reader #primo x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii #secondo #secondo x reader #papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #gender neutral reader

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papasmistakeria · 1 month

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My favourite part of the Na Na Na music video is Ghoul dual wielding Kobra's raygun cause Kobra canonically sucks ass at shooting

#mcr #my chemical romance #danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ttlotfk #fun ghoul #kobra kid #papas mistakeria special #Fun Kobra but like. in a brotherly way #I love how Kobra is the worst shot but the best fighter. Gotta be one of my favourite genders

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sonicbooom · 2 months

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i did a thing. he rollerblades

#the punnett square was me trying to figure out how much Alien he would have #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #sth #shadow the hedgehog #sonic #sonadow fankid #fanart #digital art #my art #metaljunk #he is trans of gender just like his Papa #also testing a new brush

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ghulehunknown · 5 months

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{NSFW COPIA DRABBLES AHEAD!}

Saw the 1st pic on twt earlier and I had to!

🥴🙏🥵

📸 Credit here

Imagine him fucking you in this position, like. He’s got one hand on your backside, caressing you, sliding down to cup your ass cheeks and giving them a smack. Sticking his thumb in your asshole for good measure (unless he’s got his cock in it).

“Have been a good girl/boy, cara/caro?” he’s asking, not even waiting for an answer before fucking into you roughly. He’s gripping your hips and pushing you onto his cock over and over, not letting your whimpers let him falter from getting what he wants - in fact, your noises drive him crazier.

He’ll pull out unexpectedly just to eat you out from behind, and you never know what move he’ll do next. But rest assured, he’ll have you cumming around his cock as he spills himself inside you 😩

Oh yeah, I’m down bad today folks. 😮‍💨

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #ghost band smut #papa emeritus x reader #copia is my husband #copia x female reader #cardinal copia x female reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x female reader #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus x gender neutral #papa Emeritus IV x gender neutral reader

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 1 month

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Could I please request headcanons of the papas with an S/O they've recently gotten together with where the S/O is very touch starved but unsure how to initiate any kind of touching/physical affection?

Done and Done! Please Enjoy! :)

GN Reader

Papas with a new Touch Starved S/O Who Can’t Initiate Physical Contact

Papa Nihil: He doesn’t want to come off rude, but the Grandpapa isn’t shy to directly ask you what’s wrong. He noticed that you’ve been together a short time but you don’t seem interested in hugs or cuddles. Which is FINE with him, he just wants you to be honest with him. Does it make you uncomfortable? Does he smell bad? Is he too pushy? Truthfully, you are thankful that he brought it up first. You were happy to sit Nihil down and explain why you have difficulty making first moves. He listens intently and is happy you told him. Nihil emphasizes that there isn’t anything you can’t tell him! He then asks if you would prefer he regularly start with touches, and you happily agree! This works splendidly for you as you get more comfortable asking for more.

Papa I: It was one of the first things he noticed about you, back when you were both a casual fling. The way you would nervously shuffle while casting hungry glances at him. Papa realized that you might have been shy, so he was happy to take the lead. He’d always make time to lift his arm up and watch as you eagerly clung to his side. Or how calm and content you were when you’d walk with your arms intertwined. Papa has never really broached the subject. You both seemed content with the arrangement. Though one day he did off-handedly mention you were allowed to touch him first. You felt a bit embarrassed, but the conversation lead to a talk about your needs and wants. Now you both have non-verbal cues established for when you need touch. It’s been bliss ever since!

Papa II: He immediately picked up something was off when you both first became an item, he just couldn’t figure out what. Papa was a touch surprised you didn’t climb all over him like some of his past flings. At first he thought you were just being respectful of his space. But he caught onto your longing looks whenever you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Papa put it to the test one day when he carefully wrapped his arms around you. You practically melted in his embrace and buried your face in his neck. Papa chuckled and started to rub your back, feeling how much you needed this. “Oh little one, you do know you can always ask for your Papa’s affection. Yes?” It was an awkward conversation after, on your part, but you were grateful for it. Papa isn’t a clingy man, but for you he is happy to be more physically available.

Papa III: You don’t have to wait long to get what you want. Papa is a VERY physically affectionate partner. Not just with bedroom needs, but basic acts of physical intimacy. He is most comforted when you two are making contact of some kind. He loves hand holding, playing with hair, snuggles, random hugs, and just using any excuse he can to lean on you. He noticed very early that you never really initiated these small acts yet were famished for any attention! It’s during one of your many cuddle sessions does he finally bring it up. He assures you he doesn’t mind, but are you wanting him to initiate more often? You eventually have a nice conversation where you open up about how hard it is for you to ask for this kind of thing… he’s always happy to indulge you! He also grins so big later in your relationship when you make the first move. He’s so proud of you!

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: you both were at an awkward impasse. Copia is just like you. He CRAVES physical affection and praise… but he has to be in the mood to come onto you first. Which he does regularly, but you noticed that he increasingly looks uncomfortable trying to touch you. When you finally ask why he looks scared to hold your hand he breaks down and admits that he’s trying to respect your boundaries. After talking you discover that this entire time Copia thought you were touch OPPOSED! He has been navigating your relationship thinking you were not into small acts of physical affection. Poor guy, you practically laughed in his face when he told you that! But it was actually you laughing in relief. It lent to your much needed conversation about what you both wanted in the future.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus iii #cardinal copia #papa emeritus ii #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #ghost headcanons #reader insert #ghost reader insert #ghost reader #gender netural reader #papas x reader

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voidcat · 2 years

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— what the cat dragged in

characters: papa emeritus iii/you, cardinal copia, nameless ghouls, sister imperator

wc & genre/notes: 8.1k – strangers to friends/lovers, fluff, suggestive content (minor discussion of kinks and terzo being terzo during mummy dust. That part starts with “I’d say you’re deflecting,” and ends with the divider.) neighbors au, reader has a cat… I’ll b honest idk what else to say

a/n: this is My blog and I get to choose how cringe I want to be. Yes I said I’d not write for ghost and did it anyways after one (1) bad day. Yes this file is titled “hatehatehatemyself” on Google drive. The part after the burgundy divider is an optional ending. You can read the entire thing as platonic or slowly growing into something romantic. have fun x

Head turned left and right, looking around, no sign around.

The neighborhood is rather quiet today, the sun up and everyone out, at work or else. Rustling of grass with each breeze reaches your ears, and each time you whip your head toward the direction with hope.

In a breath, you cross the road and walk and walk and walk. It’s a long one, not unbearably so but still a little unnerving. You don’t recall many people going this way after all.

Now standing before the grand door, the little mailbox a few meters away awfully standing out, you raise your fist and knock.

And wait.

And waiting you do for almost a minute, if it weren’t for the noises you hear, a clutter of something, a shatter there and finally footsteps.

The door swings open– though it looks too heavy to be opened just like that and the man stands tall before you, forearm resting against the frame, leaning his entire weight to it, eyes barely open and you don’t need to see the barely filled bottle he holds to tell he is drunk.

The scent of alcohol reeks off him just enough.

Your nose scrunches up at the smell.

Squinting his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light coming from the sun, he doesn’t acknowledge you right away.

You doubt he has noticed you.

Isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking like this already? He looks trashed, to say the least.

Then he seems to notice you, though he makes so little movement to fix his posture, the belt tied around his waist barely doing its job to hold the robe together.

Decent on the eyes, you’d have thought for the guy, if it wasn’t for the weird face paint.

Getting too far and a little too early on the halloween spirit?

“Ah…” you clear your throat and try again. “So you see, my cat was lost and–”

“Oh perfect! That’s just lovely now.” he cuts you off, quite loud too. Head thrown back, he holds a sneer. “And what, little one ? Decided to come here and accuse us?” bottle dropped on the floor, rolls off to the side, hitting to an end by the door frame.

With both hands free, he throws them up in mockery, mimicking what you can only think to be a kid’s voice: “‘ Oh no the big bad mean satanists stole my cat and used it for their sick rituals. ’” hands dropped to his sides immediately as he is done with his imitation, he glares down at you: “Well guess what? Buzz off! As if I don’t have enough bullshit to deal with right now. Go find a more creative way to get in sherlock.”

So they were satanists after all…

Good to know you suppose, not that you care in all honesty. The whole church-like air of the building only gets more confusing for you though.

Before he can close the door to your face, you place your palm against it to stop him. “Hey!”

The force behind the door comes to a pause, probably didn’t expect you to fight back.

“Listen, Mr. Halloween or whatever poor Jack Skellington look you were going for.” you begin speaking, ignoring the way his face morphs into pure confusion. “How about you listen to people before barking assumptions at them?”

A moment of breath, the resistance behind the door ends completely and he opens it full again, waiting for you to continue but doesn’t seem all too happy.

“My cat likes to go outdoors and one of my neighbors said to me once that he often visits this place. So can I please come in?”

Seeing it written clear that you won’t be leaving any time soon, the guy sighs and steps aside. “Don’t touch anything and don’t leave my sight.”

Footsteps echoing in the hallways, you ‘pspsps’ here and there in hopes of your cat turning around but to no avail.

It’s only when passing a door that the guy pauses and curses to himself, you can hear the hints of an accent.

Turning to face him, he takes in your raised brow as a question.

“Copia has rats– pet rats. Your cat better be a vegan because I will not deal with his whole…” he gestures with his hand at nothing, “mourning or Sister Imperator’s reprimanding if a single one of them is missing.”

“Mr. Whiskers is a well behaving, domesticated cat with manners, thank you very much.” you say and turn your head with a huff.

Copia? Imperator? You have no idea who these guys are but you’re sure you can handle a couple of …dorky satanists, if the rest of them are just like this man baby at least.

You can always leave town before night too, if it comes down to it.

Only few steps away and the man watches as you disappear, yelling after you about ‘what did he say’ and all that bullshit but you couldn’t care any less because there he is, your precious baby!

All pulled up into a cozy little furry ball by the corner under a window, in what appears to be someone’s bedroom.

Pretty messy too.

The man seems to catch sight of you and say something he thinks is amusing, or sleek, from the tone he uses, though you pay no attention to his words or how they suddenly run dry. (‘ well if your eye on me the whole time, you didn’t need to make up an excuse about a lost c –’)

Picking up your cat despite his protests, you turn and thank him with a nod. His words register in your mind with a small delay.

“Maybe consider tidying up your room, what are you, twelve?” and with that, you exit his warzone of a room and walk back the path you took, with Mr. Whiskers purring in your arms the entire walk home.

The second time your cat goes missing while you’re home, you know better.

Instead of wasting hours searching around, you hike up all the way to that dreaded place and knock on the door with force and impatience.

It is a woman who answers instead.

A woman who does not seem to be the slightest bit impressed.

Staring at her bored face, you take notice of her clothes you can deem as formal for the place, the sound of fabric brushing as she crosses her arms, you snap out of it, trying to formulate the words regarding your cat and and all.

Whatever thought seems to pass her mind, you conclude that she doesnt care and watch as she leaves the door open, walking back inside. So you hurriedly follow.

“Sleek, black hair you said?” she asks, still walking ahead as you nod– shit, satanist or not, she can’t have an eye at the back of her head now; letting out a hum of affirmation you fasten your steps and try to walk by her side.

Steps come to a halt before a closed door, she knocks firmly, once.

Upon receiving no answer whatsoever, she rolls her eyes and opens the door.

They must have quite the savings you think, to have a place with soundproof walls and doors. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and all, you wonder to yourself, couldn’t your cat have picked somewhere …normal to take his afternoon naps.

Paying the scene before her eyes no mind, the woman steps in– is that who the man referred to as Sister Imperator?, and you catch her words about grabbing the darn cat now and continuing his pity party later.

The sounds of sex stop and you can hear someone walking around all the while mumbling something.

Before you can thank the woman however, she turns and walks away.

Less than a minute later the same man from before peeks out his head through the door.

Wearing a different robe this time and doing a poor job of holding your cat, though Mr. Whiskers doesn’t seem to mind, the traitor, he watches as you take the cat from his arms.

As you turn to leave and call it a day, maybe open a bottle of wine and see where the night takes you, a ‘hey!’ catches up to you from behind.

Leaning against the door frame like he did the first time, he waits for you to face him.

“Just let me know next time your cat comes over. I doubt neither you nor Sister would like to become frequent acquaintances.”

You eye him with a suspicious look. Sure the woman does seem like if she sees you 3 times a week or more for your cat, she might sacrifice you and Mr. Whiskers to Lucifer with her bare hands but hey, you cannot control who answers the door now.

As if sensing your train of thought, or, a part of it, he lets out a sigh, “My windows are pretty wide. Pretend they’re doors or something.”

“...right.” Sounds more and more reassuring with each word for sure, great , thank you Mr. Whiskers.

Then an after thought seems to follow as a whine can be heard from inside his room, “ Just – maybe let me know ahead before you come through the window, yeah ?”

“And I should do that, how?” you ask, wishing the whole encounter to be over “I don’t want you charging me if a stone happens to find its way in.”

From how he mumbles the words ‘charging’ and ‘stone’ confused, it seems to be taking him a while to register your words.

The implication of your words seem to dawn in as his face goes down “Last I checked, cellphones exist.” he states, not sounding too happy about the possible danger his precious windows may face.

“And how should I know this isn’t some weird excuse to get my number?” you sound skeptical, on the edge, probably finger hovering over that dial button to the police if it wasn’t for the cat in your arms.

At your words though, he chuckles. “I do have a girl in my bed right now, you know?”

“And my question remains unchanged.” staring at him with a dead serious expression, you watch as his amused face falls, his eyes rolling and he shoves a hand down one of his pockets, taking out a pen.

Expectant eyes on you– wait, what is up with his eyes? , he pushes off the cap, shaking his left arm so the robe’s arm can slide off, revealing his skin, waiting. Waiting for you.

“You better not send me any weird crap or call-” you state then say out your phone number.

Well, worst comes to worst, you know a good lawyer.

Third time's the charm is how the saying goes. You have your doubts but perhaps there is truth to it as the man’s ridiculous window idea works.

It takes no time to figure out Mr. Whiskers spends his afternoons there because the rays of sunlight hit just right, and right next to where he sleeps is a comfortable armchair with black and white hair decorating its surface a little.

Few steps ahead of his windows, the view of a wonderful garden has attracted your attention but you know better than to ask, or enter without permission. The amount of times you’ve dropped by increases at record speed, yet the air between you both is still tight.

He lets out a warm laugh when he gets a good look at him once, but when you ask, you get no reply. Surely this cannot be the first tuxedo cat he has ever seen in his life.

One silence after another, he must've sensed how tense and awkward it feels too, as a little after he tries to make conversation and apologize.

So they are a satanic organization, that’s fine.

You’ve always wondered as a kid about the gatherings you’d see within a distance but never bothered to check for yourself.

A rock band to spread their word and message however, now that is odd. You’re starting to think their anti church might be the most normal thing to them.

Yet you remain your silence and let him speak, listen, and try to make as much sense of them as you can because god knows you won’t be leaving this place any time soon.

He says he is– was the frontman of the band, and their beloved antipope , but was dethroned , or so he claims, few days prior to your arrival.

You can understand frustration over something you have dedicated your time and effort into, and for you to be pulled off it without a logical explanation. That explains drinking until the brain shuts down despite that scent of alcohol still stings your senses.

Nodding to his words, you take his apology and leave with Mr. Whiskers that day. He asks if you’d like to see the garden the next time your legs are dangling off the windowsill.

You accept in a heartbeat.

With the weather warming up and all, your cat seems to enjoy the garden as much as you do.

Trees and flowers of all kinds tended to with care and love, you can tell. Each arranged with care, the entire place paints a beautiful picture before your eyes, and endless too.

Same as the window, this becomes a habit too. To stroll in the garden and sit on one of the stone benches, talking or staying like this in silence.

He seems fond of Mr Whiskers for reasons unknown to you, until he pulls out a photograph of someone in what you make out to be a tuxedo of sorts, on a stage no less.

The photograph is of small scale, you cannot make out much of the details, so he takes it upon himself to explain that it is indeed him in the photo and the looks of your cat caught him by surprise because of his looks.

Without waiting for a reaction, he offers to show you the outfit he wore back then, though he sounds a little melancholic about the whole thing still.

Sure , you agree, but keep it to yourself that the regency shirt and black pants look just fine on him.

It blurs at one point you begin visiting even without Mr. Whisker’s presence in his room.

Bursting out into laughter, he looks almost offended at your reaction. “I’m sorry-” your giggles break through as you wipe off a tear, “what did you say it was again?”

“Emeritus.” he says flatly.

“Emeritus.” you repeat, this time doing a better job at containing the giggling.

“Yes, Emeritus,” he says again and adds, “The third.”

If your laughter before was loud, this is something beyond, enough to make him go deaf in comparison.

“Okay no, I’m not calling you-” you bring your hands up to finger quote, “Emeritus The Third.” you say in a serious tone. “And I’m certainly not calling you ‘papa’ or some bullshit title.” you cut in before he can get a word out.

“We’re going to need a nickname, what about ‘em’?”

“Em.” his tone asking ‘are you for real?’, his turn to repeat now.

“Okay no, that’s just as bad, give me some time to th-” hand covering his face, he just shakes his head with a sigh.

“Just call me Terzo , caro mio.”

Seeing as to no reply from you comes, he removes his hand and looks up. “It means ‘ the third ’ in Italian.”

“Oh,” you manage to say, though you do sound a little different now, perhaps you thought from his reactions you hurt him and now feel sorry about that?

“Yeah, I can do that, Terzo.” speaking with more confidence now, testing the name on your tongue, you talk more to yourself and nod your head than to him– he finds watching you act like this, how you operate and think as you talk endearing.

You find yourself liking spending time with Terzo more than you’ve realized.

Work is work, adulting is the same and sometimes relationships with friends feel dull or far away.

To say the least, he is interesting. Usually something to catch you off guard or wondering, it is guaranteed your time with him is never one to fall victim to boredom.

So he speaks of his life, of things he has done on the road and whatnot, even going as far to recreate when he tried to kick off a beach ball only to fall, basking in the waves of your laughter, even complaining to him by nighttime that your face hurts from laughing so much.

In return you feel you don’t have as exciting stories but he listens as if they’re the most wonderful things he has ever heard.

You deem them mundane and every time without a beat, he says only to you.

It comes down to, more like remembering, those scenes from when you were a kid.

He is awfully quiet that day, when you speak of seeing figures in black walking in tow, a kid or two that seemed to be your peers but how their estate in the eyes of some were off limits, and it was always at an odd time for you to be walking up there and talk with the kids.

A shame, the two of you could’ve met much earlier, yet he doesn’t voice it and you do not realize it.

Of all the things he has experienced recently, entering his room, to a bed unmade, finding you wrapped in the covers and sound asleep, would score high on Terzo’s list of things he wouldn’t expect– that is, if his brain could even muster up such a scene.

He doesn't need to, though, as it becomes real before his eyes and he makes way for the loveseat that night.

He doesn’t pry about it and all you say under your breath is that you felt lonely.

‘What about Wh-’ before he can ask, you open the covers partly to reveal that Mr. Whiskers is indeed with you, in his bed.

He just hopes the cat won’t switch his usual spot for his bed when he comes next time.

The nightly visits from you start to occur more, by the third time he knows it’ll become another constant, though not as frequent.

You do appear upset that he has to sleep on the couch, yet he waves his hand dismissively, that he doesn’t mind– he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or cross any unnamed boundaries. Which is a little outside the usual for him, he is known for being bold, for holding and kissing hands and doing much more when he can even smell from a kilometer away the slightest of interest the other party has in him.

The next time it repeats, he is startled by a sudden noise as he makes for the couch as always. Turning on his heel only to see you patting the spot next to you in his bed.

Sure, it is a spacious bed, more than enough space for the both of you, and Mr. Whiskers, yet he still feels tense about the whole situation.

What if he wraps an arm around you or something in his sleep and you wake up angry, that he jumped into conclusions, that this wasn’t what you wanted at all and that you’ll never visit again and file a restra–

“You think too much.”

You draw him out of his pocket sized crisis with few words and a flock on his forehead. “Keep doing that and you’ll end up with wrinkles in no time.”

What else can he do but chuckle at that and sink into sleep, safe and sound?

Wine is a skillful loosener, as the two of you rediscover together.

On days you stick around for longer, he makes his offer– though you refuse it as much as you can.

Despite dropping by unannounced after a while, you haven't walked into any intimate moments. And against your initial claim, your phone does get bombarded, usually photos of Mr. Whiskers when Terzo catches a glimpse of him, or when he thinks he is being adorable.

The latter is worse, because Terzo always finds him adorable once he warms up to the cat. The way he acts through text makes you picture him lying on the floor, hands supporting his chin, legs behind him dangling in the air, watching the unknowing cat as he sleeps or does the most mundane cat thing anyone can think of.

Neither of you are aware just how fascinating mundane is to him.

You can sense his pout from meters away.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” you put down the stacked papers. “What is it?”

Crossing his arms, he turns away partially, grumbling under his breath, “I don’t know what youre talking about.”

Getting closer to Terzo means many things, witnessing the absolute manchild that resides in him included.

Picking up your phone to turn the volume down, your eyes find his figure again– either he resembles Mr. Whiskers more than you gave them credit for or your time spent with him making you delusional. “Out with it already,” his form shrinks only further, “or no more visits from me or Mr. Whiskers.”

Now that , gets his attention.

Eyes focused somewhere near your face intentionally, he almost appears reluctant to say the words.

“How come you never listen to any of my songs?”

It takes you few seconds longer to register his words.

Before you can answer, he begins rambling, so rushed and in a whisper, all you can hear is few words in italian, which you’re sure are curses slipping his tongue and terms of endearment.

“I just… forgot?” you offer with a shrug.

Okay, maybe not the best response as this gets him to throw his arms into air, “ mio satana , you are unbelievable.” a finger pokes into your side, you haven't even realized he already crossed the distance between you both.

So he gets jealous when you listen to other musicians, huh , you save the information for future use.

As you begin laughing, he chuckles, muttering under his breath. “I guess, I’ll have to bring a ritual to your feet.”

It goes unknown to you that Terzo semi-regularly orders cat food for Mr. Whiskers, not that the cat ever seemed to be hungry when he was there, but hey, cannot hurt to try. If the cat only decides to visit him, with you in cue, more often, now there is no harm in that.

Another thing unbeknownst to you, is that, despite the distance between their estate and your house, Terzo can spot your lights without much effort.

If he were to dramatize the entire thing between you both and more, he’d refer to it as a beacon of light. But he doesn’t need to, because there is nothing more to what it is between the two of you, even if unnamed, even when he cannot help wondering “ what if …”, wondering if he is misinterpreting things.

So when he doesn’t see the lights turn on by the night time one evening, he doesn’t care, maybe the power went out, maybe you just want to try something different for a change. He certainly doesn’t care in the morning when he sees a second figure come out of the door, or when you drop by later that evening, a throbbing headache and ‘ long day at work’ you just murmur as you fall asleep on his shoulder.

You accept the wine when you're taking another stroll in the gardens.

With the weather beginning to cool down, you welcome its warmth to your very bones.

Booze loosens your tongue first, and soon your senses, your train of thought. Whether it’s a good thing or not that you’re not the only victim… you don't know.

“Was it worth it at least?” he muses as you’re seated on the same bench, glasses sat on the ground.

You twist your face, trying to recall, “Once I tuned his voice out, yeah I guess?” he snorts at your words, “Isn’t this the usual case?”

“Nah,” you drag the word as you reach for your glass, “He could also suck in bed. So the entire night wasn’t a waste I suppose. Never going back to that place though, I’m picky for a reason.”

You say the words more to yourself as a mantra than anything, Terzo watching you with a giggle hanging on his lips.

“Bad drinks as well?”

“It’d be charity to call them as such, ugh,” with a sigh, you drink down the remaining half of your wine, tipping the empty glass to his direction.

Taking your glass, he switches it with his and you take no time to bring it back to your lips.

“But this?” you raise the glass, “now that is a quality product.”

With another chuckle, he reaches for the bottle and fills the empty glass in his hand.

The topic of your recent and unfortunate endeavors morph into complaining about work, people in the streets, weird posts on the internet and whatnot.

“Okay, okay,” you try to speak inbetween laughter, “so what about weird preferences when it comes to sex?”

He just gives you a teasing smirk as you place your finger on his lips as a means to shush him “we already know weird shit and food combinations the other likes, consider this a slight change of topic.”

“I’d say you’re deflecting, but alright, I’ll buy.” he shrugs, throwing his head back to drink from the bottle– the glasses cast aside an hour or so ago.

“Any kink you can think of, I’m most likely into already, so just ask me yourself.”

You bring a finger to your chin, contemplating what to say for a moment, “Socks stay on or?..” you let your voice trail off, gazing at him from the side with a smile.

Bringing a hand over his heart and another against his forehead, he faces you fully and lets out a loud gasp. “Caro mio! You wound me. I might be the antipope but I am not a lunatic!”

He opens one eye to seize your reaction, and when your gazes meet, both of you burst into laughter.

“But the face paint stays on, no?” you gesture to your face once you stop clutching your stomach.

“Everyone has a preference, tesero.” he shrugs.

Considering his position and the closest people he can find to fuck, it does add up, you suppose.

“Now enough about me, what about you ?” He leans in to you, flashing his teeth. Not letting him get to him, you snatch the bottle from his hand.

“What about me, indeed huh? Just your basic, vanilla bullshit.” you close your eyes as you gulp down the wine.

Your comment only ignites him further, with another chuckle, he scoots closer, “You? Vanilla? I’d beg to differ,” and again, with the poking to your sides, he pleads “Don’t keep your papa waiting now.” “Okay first of all–”

You snap your head to him, only to be nose to nose, “ Not the ‘p’ word, we went over that ages ago, not calling you that.”

“Only because you’re being such a tease,” he sing-songs, his head thrown back.

“You are such a child,” you mumble as you place the bottle between your legs, hands gripping its neck.

“Biting, I suppose.” You can hear him open an eye and look your way, “Nothing extreme as I said, but people aren’t exactly dying to be covered in red and purple, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” he answers, “their loss.”

You can sense he wants to pry further but keeps himself, and hell , the wine is good, there is another bottle waiting by his foot, and compared to the amount of black mail-level footage of him you've got, this feels like nothing.

“Taking risks.” you say in a whisper, partially hoping he doesn’t hear.

“Now, this falls vague, bella.” he says. “Risks of conceiving, catching STDS–” he begins counting with a finger,

“ No ! I said risks , not being an idiot.” You cut in, a hand covering your face.

You know he is waiting with that smug smirk, “risks of getting caught, like, dunno , semi public spaces and the likes?” you ask more than speak, meeting his gaze as you finish speaking.

“So that’s where the biting comes,” he speaks in a knowing tone, “leaving telltale marks blooming everywhere?” he muses as his hand begins to move, finger grazing against your skin.

“Like this?” he asks, hand going up and drawing patterns on your thigh, slowly going up, his eyes gauging your expression.

“...yeah” you say in a breath, letting his hand reach the inner side of your thigh. A finger flicks against the bottle, drawing out a trembling note, making your eyes flash though all your times here, you never saw anyone else in the gardens.

The bottle has long gone warm but his hand feels cold against your leg, you’re aware of his eyes locked on your face yet make no haste to draw yours away from the plants up ahead.

His hand begins to travel upwards, making way to fiddle with the hem, going under and his skin meeting yours.

Before he can do anything further however, you both jolt with the sudden noise coming from behind, between the windows.

“Cazzo!” he mutters and gets up, making way to enter his room through the windows.

While waiting for him, you go for the other bottle, pouring yourself some more wine, at least with a glass, you can keep count.

Pausing to listen around, you hear the commotion has died down.

Picking up the other glass and hoisting the empty bottle under your arm, you make way for the stained glass windows you’ve grown familiar with over the course of time.

Terzo doesn't seem to pay much mind to the interruption though, the conversation picks up from where it left, now talking in a more general sense.

“You give off vibes of someone who’d make a sex playlist,” you begin as he listens with a nod, “ and add your songs to it.”

“As I said gioia, everyone has their preferences.” he reaches to take the bottle from you, not expecting your arm to draw back, “yet I cannot help but be upset,” he sheds a nonexistent tear, “that you think my thrust game is so weak.”

Seeing as you freeze at his words, he takes a step to you, grabbing the bottle from your hand with a smile and places it down, not stepping back afterwards. “If you want a demonstration though, I am always happy to help.”

As if your silence was anything to go by, now it is deafening, the warmth and flush of your skin; you’re unsure if the cause is alcohol or him .

“And I did promise a demonstration of my songs to you before, didn’t I?” he says as he takes another step your way.

“So you see, we got this fan favorite song, Mummy Dust,” he speaks while pretending to be interested in the ceiling, gesturing with a hand in the air, “but not because of the lyrics.” he remarks with a smug expression, redirecting his gaze to you as he takes another step, barely any space left separating the two of you.

You’re unsure what to say or do, when left alone in a room with a bunch of people wearing identical masks.

You think, Terzo must’ve pulled a rope here and there, or acted in secrecy considering his sudden drop of position in the band, to have gotten into this studio– and bringing you no less.

The people he referred to as Nameless Ghouls stare at you, and you back at them. You can imagine the confusion they must be going through.

Then the man of the hour reappears with a clap of hands, dressed up in an outfit resembling a suit, and his previous remark at Mr. Whiskers suddenly comes back to you, finally making sense.

A concert– or a ritual, as he put it, he promised and one he delivers.

A ghoul begins playing his guitar in sync with the drums, as two of them walk to stand at their both sides and with a sudden stomp of foot, they all play in, in a fashion you can describe as ‘ knocking the wind out of your lungs .’

Only when Terzo’s singing, and soon the instruments coming to a stop that you realize you've been holding your breath the whole time. And quickly find out you may as well die due to lack of oxygen by the time the day comes to an end if they only keep up this momentum.

One song after another, they captivate you gradually. Be it the way the ghouls play or the way Terzo moves as he sings, radiating with energy. Walking around and messing up with one another, bothering each other at times– it all creates the illusion of a found family.

Briefly moving his hand, the ghouls pick acoustic guitars once another song comes to an end.

After each song he tells its name and some information– or funny memories he finds important you know.

With a signal of his hand, the ghouls switch to acoustic guitars and Terzo begins humming: “a one, a two, three, and four.“

With a move of his hand, they all enter the song.

One hand in a fist, resting against his hip and the other in front of him, he sways his hips softly as he sings.

It doesn’t miss your attention how some of his moves arent as innocent or random as they seem– when he brings his other hand to join the stray one, hoisting them up in the air as if holding something, or how after he holds the microphone with one hand and violates the poor stand with his fingers. Hands thrown into the air and shaking in the air as a ta-da once in a while, he takes a step back to point at one of the ghouls’ playing.

The song comes to an end and you think you’ve done good so far– then he decides to announce that the song is called Jigolo Har Meggido and you burst into laughter, leaving the men in the room utterly confused.

It takes several minutes for you to gather yourself, wipe away the tears all the while ignoring Terzo hovering over you with concern, unsure whether to approach you or leave you be in your violent laughter.

“I’m sorry-” your words die in your throat as another wave of laughter takes over again, “it’s just-” hand clutching over your stomach, you do your best to look up, “you do re-”, meeting his face only makes you laugh again.

A tap on your shoulder distracts you a little. Taking the water bottle one of the ghouls have brought to you, in your frenzy you didn’t even realize him leaving, you take a few sips to calm your nerves.

“I know you’re flirty and all, but witnessing you calling yourself a manwhore caught me off guard.”

Definitely not something worth laughing to that extent over, Terzo doesn’t say a word and instead flashes you a toothy grin.

“You’d be surprised to hear it was his brother who wrote this song.” you hear someone say, the same ghoul from before.

“Ah!” Terzo waves a hand dismissively in the air, “enough talk of that geezer. Now , what do you say to a grammy winning original?”

The ghouls slowly begin as Terzo walks back, their eyes on him and his hands, watching every move and tilt, following his guidance. Compared to the other songs they’ve played so far, this one comes off much softer, gentler, making you wonder what will come next.

Raising both hands in the air as if in praise, the ghouls all stop and silence takes over, waiting, and with his signal, they enter the song, picking up stronger than where they left off.

The melody matches the lyrics somewhat, the impression of a thunder, it builds up and carries smoothly.

He begins singing what you assume to be the second verse, drawing closer to you at a steady pace. His voice becomes the only thing you hear as the instruments falter and die out, quietening one by one. The microphone now held in his left, his right hand reaches out to hold yours, bringing it up near his face as he keeps singing: “ Can't you see that you're lost without me?”

And with it, they all reenter the song with a bang, your hand still in his, Terzo kisses the back of it in between lyrics and steps back to his initial position.

Drumming his fingers in the air, swaying them at the direction of either of the ghouls, they all circle around the keyboard playing ghoul as the song shifts into an instrumental part.

Eyes never leaving theirs, especially not his, not when he makes sure to lock his with you, you watch the entire performance almost in a trance, mind going blank.

When the song ends, you can see his expectant looks on you, already beaming with whatever compliment he’s positive you’ll be giving him.

So you decide to pick the teasing route.

“It was nice.” he stares at you, his face clearly showing he wasn’t waiting to hear that. “Nice?..”

Humming in affirmation, you nod your head. “Yeah, nice.” tilting your head to the side, you speak up, “ Say , this helps you get some?”

The man stands there, blinking at you for what feels like eternity.

The ghouls in a similar stance, though you’re sure you’ve heard one of them snort, and another snicker.

The eternity ends with a shake of his head and a faint smile on his face. “Yes, sorella , it helps me …get plenty actually.” he uses your phrase.

“Well,” he clicks his tongue as he places the microphone back to its place, “if it’s a …meretricious song you desire, how about I give you,” his pace of speaking slows down, as if holding his breath, waiting for imaginary drum rolls: “Mummy Dust!” He drags the words in a low grumble, shaking his hands in the air once again.

From how he starts swaying and moving his hips, you immediately recognize the song.

As Terzo begins singing, the sound of a door opening and clicking close reach your ears and when you twist halfway in your seat, you see a man with pencil stache dressed up in black, his hat partially resembling a bat, same painted eyes and upper lip like Terzo yet lacking the rest of the face paint.

The man stills in place when he sees you, only gets his feet to move again when you pat the vacant spot near you.

Whispering greetings back and forth, you immediately remember his name.

“Ah you’re the Cardinal!” Your voice comes out a tad more excited than expected. The man on the other hand seems confused as to how you know him already.

“How are your rats? Happy, I hope. I am so sorry, I never got the chance to apologize to you or to them because of Mr. Whiskers.” The words leave your lips in a breath, leaving the man dumbfounded, repeating your cat’s name in confusion and unaware,

“ah, I-, my most sincere apologies, who?..”

“Mr. Whiskers, my cat, didn't Terzo t- oh.” Unfortunately the mention of a cat before you can stop makes his eyes go wide, and you try your best to assure him that your cat didnt even set foot into his room, somewhat calming the anxious man down.

The music on the other hand, as well as the singing, gets louder and a tad more aggressive.

Probably unhappy with how your attention was led somewhere other than him. So needy and grumpy, spoiled like a cat.

“Uh, we can save our discussing for after the song?” Cardinal suggests, to which you nod. “I'd hate to impose on this- uh, special performance his excellency was displaying for you.” He says, coughing on his words at the way Terzo moves.

“Its alright Cardinal. I was given a demonstration of this song already, I am not missing out on anything.”

Again, you must’ve said something wrong, because instead of relaxing, the Cardinal’s face tenses up and goes bright red.

“ Oh !” You wince, “poor choice of words on my behalf. That's not what I meant.” You try to offer an explanation with a sheepish smile, but to no avail.

At least Terzo looks quite pleased with the interaction, as clear from the smug expression taking over his face.

The previous incident– goes unaddressed between the two of you but the air between doesnt waver.

Still, it must have triggered some sort of change, you conclude, as Terzo’s texting habits only evolve into a different stage.

Sure, it went for quite a while that the initial purpose of exchanging numbers was abandoned yet he still possessed control, a sense of self restraint, when texting you.

Definitely the absolute opposite of whatever it is going on as of now.

Maybe you’ve spoiled him too much, your brain reaches another conclusion as the lips on your skin snap that thought in the middle, pulling you back into reality.

You still don’t visit him as regular as to say daily, or even biweekly– so you hold onto the benefit of doubt that he has absolutely no way of knowing youre busy trying to have a nice night, focused on pleasure and the feeling of euphoria–

Another vibrating sound against your nightstand cuts into the air, your sceeen lightning up right after.

You ignore it only so far until you find yourself scrolling and typing up a reply, the light coming from the screen reflecting against you and the man you’ve forgotten about already.

As you smile at his newest text, hearing that stupid whining of his voice and the pout, someone next to you clears his throat, snapping you back.

“Anything I should know about?” He only asks and in all honesty , you cannot blame the guy. You’d have reaches into equally ugly assumptions, were this to happen to you.

But it didnt, and it isn’t right now, so its only a little too late that you put yourself in his shoes.

“Nope.” You say, walking up to your bookshelf and placing the phone screen down, “just a friend.”

The guy hums, sounding skeptical but doesn't pry.

You give him the benefit of the doubt but few too many repeats and you know it's intentional.

You did spoil him too much it seems.

Another afternoon by his side, you're sitting on the window sill, one leg tucked under yourself, he is busy on the other side of the room, who knows what he is preparing this time.

“Wine?” he turns on his heel, holding a glass and the bottle’s neck tilted slightly already.

“None for me, thank you.”

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, a scheming expression takes over. “Ooh? Any plans for tonight?” He inquires. You don’t need to know that he is dreading the confirmation that'll leave your lips.

“I guess,” you shrug, turning to look outside the window, “promised Steve we’d spend the night together.”

Heavy silence spreads from your words and takes over the room.

The teasing remarks signature to his natural charm never comes and you turn your head to see if he even heard you in the first place… or left the room before you spoke… or somehow passed out in silence as you spoke.

Your worries ease upon seeing him standing there, still, not even a muscle moved from his last position, unreadable eyes staring at you.

Only when you tilt your head towards, asking ‘what’s wrong?’ and only then he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coughs and tried to laugh it off with a ‘ have fun’ , pouring himself a glass.

Unbelievable.

Discreetly taking a sip from his wine to distract himself doesn't do much to ease him and the now unimpressed look you're giving him makes even the wine taste bitter on his tongue.

“Wh-“ “you are unbelievable.”

Okay, you don't just seem pissed, disappointed?, something definitely negative; you sound like it too.

“For wishing my friend a fun night?” And with a guy he has never heard you mention before– the word friend stings to say. “I’m sure Steve is a good gu-“ “ Again,” you dont let him finish, “you are unbelievable, absolutely childish and overall a great idiot.”

Okay now you're just being mean. A scowl makes its way to his face before he can even notice, making you shake your head in disbelief like a mother scolding her kids with a smile.

“If youre done with the insults cara,” he says and raises his glass, appearing pissed and upset as he downs the glass.

“Terzo, you met Steve.” His head snaps up at your words. “Steve?“ you repeat in question, “Steve Whiskers?” ‘ ring any bells? ’ He can hear you say in following–

The faint smile of yours slowly evolve in a giggle as you watch the gears turn in his head and finally connect the two and two together.

“The cat?!” His voice comes out louder than he meant to, suddenly straightening up and wiping invisible dust off his clothes, he clears his throat.

“Excuse me for my sudden input of volume.” You reply with a smile, “Send my best regards to Mr. Whiskers.”

You see the ghouls around few more times you're in the perimeter, as well as the scary woman from before.

Sitting in the gardens with Terzo again one warm afternoon and she passes in the distance, her eye catching sight of you no doubt.

Jumping in your stead, you rush to where she is. Terzo watches as you speak with more animatic gestures, Sister remaining stoic as always. You bring a hand up to scratch your head in unease, then holding out a box of sorts. As you are about to turn, he sees your body beam , most likely at something Sister has said as she walks away.

You pattle back to where he waits, trying to contain a big smile and pulling out few cookies from behind in surprise. Just as he does with anything else you offer, he devours the cookies, making sure to express his gratitude and worship before and after.

You settle back next to him, laughing at the way he acts as he ignores the crumbs on his thighs, resting your head against his shoulder and relaxing.

Yet you never tell him what it was Sister Imperator has said to you that got you in high spirits; not then, not later.

When you wake up with the sunlight grazing your face from the wrong direction, your first instinct is to return to sleep.

Having falling asleep by Terzo's side a reasonable amount of times now, it feels just as comfortable as your room. Despite his chest not being as soft as your pillow, the comfort of his mattress easily beating yours makes up for the loss.

Just as a content smile makes its way to your lips and you, more than eager to return to sleep, the situation of now sinks in and you can feel the warmth drain from your entire body.

Sure, this is not the first time you've found yourself falling asleep here, even in his arms, limbs tangled up no less; but all those instances contain one huge difference from the predicament you find yourself in now and it is last night.

Maybe you should pretend to stay asleep until he is summoned for anything, but the chances of this are dangerously slim. The light coming from between the curtains doesn't burn into your eyes just yet so it must still be fairly early, maybe you can sneak out before he can return from the land of dreaming. But that'd would leave bigger problems for future you and frankly? future you has gotten sick of your 'dancing around with nothing acknowledged' bullshit.

You take a deep breath, and shut your eyes further– hey perhaps they'll glue themselves together from how tight your muscles are contracting and with your sudden admittance to the hospital and the emergencu of the entire situation, it'll all get forgo–

A sudden noise stops your entire thought process crashing. A trainwreck, yes that's what this is.

Sucking a sharp breathe in, you think 'now or never', suck it up once and face on with courage.

Creaking one eye open and meeting Terzo's eyes on yours, every single muscle in his face loosened and his expression what you can only describe as to be 'at peace', all your anxiety from bare seconds ago gets washed down the drain.

And for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to relax, fully, and bask in whatever the future– and he, along with it, will offer you.

1K notes · View notes

mikibagels · 1 year

Text

The ask that inspired this drawing is under the cut 👇

(even though the scenario isn't the same at all it made me want to draw mama dio holding giogio instead of the iconic dio pose :P Thank you for the brainrot moonyheartache <3)

#sdc #stardust crusaders #jjba #fanart #my art #gender swap #i love holly papa #a lot

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portaltothevoid · 4 months

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Console the Griever - copia x gn!reader

Grief is a fickle thing. It hits everyone differently, some more-so than others. We all have to learn how to deal with it and sometimes, no matter how long it's been, we just need comfort and a safe space to feel. Reader is dealing with it being the first anniversary of the loss of a loved one and Copia steps up to be the one they can lean on.

warnings: grief, loss of loved ones mentioned (no descriptions), everything is kept as vague and broad as possible to fit many situations, emotional hurt/comfort

word count: 2.8k

ao3 link

You could feel your insides shaking, your leg constantly bouncing. The work day was almost over. Freedom was so close, even if the only thing you did with that freedom was stay secluded in your room drowning yourself in memories of things, of people, you could never get back.

A notification popped up on your phone. One of your friends sent you a meme, most likely. That seemed to be the way you communicated lately, solely through memes. The energy to have a full conversation was nowhere to be found and you couldn’t be bothered to look for it. Your eyes fell on the date.

Knots twisted in your stomach. All day you’ve tried to ignore it, but it was bound to catch up to you eventually. Scrunching your eyes shut, you focused on your breathing. This could wait until you got back to your safe haven – it had to. You took a stuttering deep breath as you organized papers on your desk. Biting your lip, you hoped these tasks could wait until Monday. Staying on track wasn’t an option today, no matter how much you wanted to.

“Topolina, before you go, could you just email these idiote (idiots) and tell them we have a petting zoo for i bambini of the Ministry for educational purposes and not for ritual sacrifices.” Copia pinched the bridge of his nose as he returned to his desk after setting down the information you needed.

“Of course, Cardinal,” you said quietly, after a brief and quiet laugh left you.

“It’s Papa now, cara,” he solemnly corrected you.

Great. Another slip up. Your shoulders slumped at your mistake. Couldn’t you just get it together? “Sorry, Papa, I keep forgetting…”

“Ah shit. So do I,” he chuckled as he wiggled his fingers at you, now covered in his white face paint. He wiped it on his black, designer tattered pants absentmindedly before he frowned, having spread the white paint elsewhere. A nostalgic sigh was pushed from his lungs. “I miss my white suit,” he muttered.

“Me too,” you mumbled.

“What was that, cara?”

“Uh, I said, I know you do,” you quickly spoke, covering your small slip up. Your only further response to him was a tightlipped smile. It was just pleasant enough and all you could manage. An angry email. That was your mission right now. Then freedom. You could write a brief angry email.

As you went on with your task, you missed how Copia’s brows furrowed in concern. He knew you’d been acting differently lately. He wanted to chalk it up to just an off day; everyone has them once in a while. Then you started to smile less, his stupid jokes and quips that would always make you giggle barely made you give him more than a “ha.” Something was going on, and even though you were his assistant, a close bond had formed between you both. He hated seeing you turn into a shell of your former self.

Once the email was sent, you felt the crushing weight of the shadows in your mind fighting their way to the surface. You needed to get back to your room. Your breathing started to quicken and your hands were shaking. “Email’s sent. I think that’s it for today, unless you need something else…” you trailed off, praying to Lucifer himself that he would allow you to go home for the day.

“No, no, that was it.”

“Okay, I’ll see you on Monday,” you responded quickly, gathering your things.

“You’re not going to be at dinner?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Um, no, I don’t think so… well, uh, maybe, I don’t know,” you rambled.

“Is everything alright, dolcezza?” You froze at this question. Dolcezza was a rare term of endearment. It carried more weight than the others. This wasn’t Papa asking you, it was Copia.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Your pitch rose, betraying you just enough to earn a raised eyebrow from him. You tried to make your voice sound happier, more even. “Everything’s okay. Just a long week. Case of the winter blues, you know how it goes…” When he didn’t respond right away, you finished making your way to the door. “Have a good weekend, Co– Papa.”

Keeping your head down, you rushed back to your room. With a pounding heart and a heaving chest, you breathed out a shaky sigh as your hand lingered on the now closed door. You threw your bag down at the foot of your bed before you fell backwards onto it, staring up at the ceiling. Dragging your eyes to the window, you noted the weather. Exactly the same as last year.

The memories sucker-punched you the instant your mind made the connection. Tears rolled down your temples, and before long you were choking back sobs, not wanting the sound to carry to the nearby rooms. Bringing your hands to cover your face, you curled into the fetal position, where you let the wave of emotion, of pain ride its course.

How had a year gone by already? How had several gone by? You were no stranger to loss, but it never gets easier. All you wanted was to just stop everything in the sense of responsibilities and duties and expectations. It was getting more and more tiring to hold it together in front of everyone. You were seconds away from breaking down today in front of your boss. Even before his… promotion… the two of you could have almost been considered friends, he had just experienced a multitude of losses himself and you couldn’t dump all of this onto him. He had enough to deal with and you certainly weren’t about to add anything to his already full plate. That being said, there were also the formalities that had to be respected.

You had no idea how much time had passed since your sobs had quieted. A ding from your phone pulled you back into the present moment. Curiosity got the best of you to at least see what the notification was, despite planning to ignore it. A grimace pulled at your features as you saw it was from Copia. Ideas of what the text could contain raced through your mind; you forgot to do something important, he needed you to come in for a bit tomorrow, another email had to be sent, you really fucked who-knows-what up and you’d be reprimanded… Biting your lip in apprehension, you slide the notification open.

Papa Emeritus IV: Are you sure you're alright dolcezza?? You really haven’t been yourself lately… I hope this isn’t too forward. I just worry about you topolina mia. I am free tonight if you need or want to talk about anything. –C

Well, that was certainly unexpected. You threw your phone on your pillows like it was a hot potato. A blush reddened your cheeks as your heartbeat sped up, finally not because of anxiety.

He was just being nice. There was no need to read into this. With how much time you spent with him in his office, albeit in a work environment, of course he would know some of your mannerisms. He was incredibly smart. He didn’t get to where he was by being stupid. That being said… perhaps he would be the one to really be able to understand what you were going through.

Over and over you read that text, your mind racing. Should you respond? What would you even say? Do you want to talk to him? Why is he being so insistent?

Darkness fell over your room, so you got up to turn on a light, but that just turned into you pacing as you tried to decide what to do.

Again, you lost track of time ruminating in your own world. Your eyes widened when a soft knock at your door stopped you in your tracks. Taking a deep breath, you cautiously went to open the door.

Copia was waiting outside, chewing his lip nervously, as he held two plates of food. “I’m sorry I–” you both said at the same exact time.

“Go ahead, Papa,” you nodded, encouraging him to go first. It still felt so strange to refer to him by his title.

“I, eh, I noticed you didn’t really have lunch and… you weren’t at dinner, so… I just wanted to bring you this. I promise I won’t bother you again. Well, until Monday. I guess it’s your job to be bothered by me, no?” he laughed nervously as he rambled.

He was here because he cared. So, you listened to the little voice in the back of your mind that was whispering to you how you were more than just an assistant to him.

“Th-thank you…” was all you could manage to say, in shock by the kind gesture.

“Have you been crying, carissima?” he whispered softly. Okay, and then with his use of carissima… That was a new term of endearment, which made your heart skip a beat.

“Is it that obvious?” you laughed humorlessly, but it died in your throat when you saw him regarding you with such concern. You stepped back, giving him room to enter. “I guess I could use some company if you want to have your dinner here… if you’re still free?”

“Certo, certo. For you? Always,” he said as he stepped inside. “I was, eh, hoping you’d say yes.” The shy smile he gave you melted your heart and you swore you saw the slight blush under some spots of his fading papal paint from the long day.

Although your apartment was on the smaller side, it was still large enough to have a kitchenette and a small seating area. One of the perks of having worked alongside senior clergy members for years. As you got some utensils and drinks from the fridge, Copia set the plates on your coffee table while settling down on the loveseat in the corner.

He smiled at you as you set down a couple juice boxes for him and some for yourself. “Before you say anything, I haven’t felt like going into town so I had to dip into the stash I save for you when I need to restock the minifridge in your office,” you chuckled.

He just shook his head. “Everyone’s always hating on the juice boxes,” he playfully grumbled.

It didn’t hit you how hungry you were til you saw the plate of food in front of you and then when you realized he brought you your favorite. “Wait… how did… This wasn’t on the menu for tonight’s dinner, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t, but sometimes it’s worth it to take advantage of the perks of being Papa.”

He had literally gone out of his way to do this for you. Blinking back tears, you murmured a quiet thank you when you knew you weren’t going to start crying again from his kindness. “How has it been, now that you’re officially Papa?” you wondered in an attempt to keep the conversation light so you could actually enjoy your dinner.

“Eh, it’s pretty much the same as it’s been for the last couple of years. Well, as far as duties and things go, for me at least. They treat me with… a little more respect than before,” he shrugged.

“I’m still not used to calling you Papa,” you admitted.

“Please, don’t,” he responded quickly. “When it’s just us, call me Copia. I don’t like… I don’t think there has to be such formality between us. We’ve, um, worked side by side long enough…”

“It’s nice to have a sense of normalcy?”

“Sì. Sometimes it just reminds of… what they did to get me here and…” he cleared his throat. “And I’d just prefer you use my name.”

You nodded, knowing he was referring to his own series of losses. Not wanting to encroach on heavy topics yet, you steered the conversation to movies you’ve seen recently, a book you thought he might like, et cetera.

Once you both had finished eating, Copia insisted that you stay put while he cleaned up. When he sat next to you again he turned and wondered, “Did that help you feel a little bit better, dolcezza? I really can’t stand to see you so… hurt.”

You nodded. “It did. It really helped get my mind off everything for just… a little bit. I can’t thank you enough, Copia. You… you have no idea how much this means.” Anxiously, you stared at your hands in your lap as you fidgeted.

“This week… it’s the first anniversary of her passing, isn’t it?” he spoke with sincerity and a cautiousness as if you might break.

Biting your lip, you nodded again. “You remembered,” you stated.

“Of course, cara.” He took one of your hands in both of his. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. I’m here for you, if you need me. You’re safe with me, always know that.”

The tears started to well up again. You couldn’t tell if the pressure in your chest was from the surmounting grief you tried to stuff down or from the gratitude of Copia trying to break through to you. “I can’t do that to you,” you shook your head, avoiding his mismatched eyes. “You have your own stuff to deal with. I can’t pile my shit on top of it…”

The hand on top of yours moved to cup your face as he turned your head so you could look at him. “If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t be so insistent. I’m okay. Sure, some days are worse than others. That’s grief. It… it never goes away, but what changes is our ability to handle it and have space for it, to navigate it.”

As you looked into his eyes, you felt the dam break. Tears spilled over and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself be fully vulnerable in front of someone else. Without hesitation, he pulled you to him, cradling your head against his chest as his other arm wrapped around you, holding you close to him. This time, you weren’t solely sobbing from the crushing grief and memories of the past, but because finally you felt like you were able and that you wanted to share with someone everything that you had been keeping under lock and key.

When you had calmed down enough to talk, you told him your story. You started with how you had lost one of your parents when you were young, how much it still bothered you, how you recently lost another close family member and the anniversaries were so close together. You shared with him how this week you just tried to keep your head above water. You were so afraid of disappointing him, but were too overwhelmed. He just listened. He took it all in stride as he soothingly rubbed your back to keep you calm and grounded.

“So much of that I’ve… I’ve never told anyone,” you confessed.

“Do you feel better, lighter now?”

“I do. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. I… Just… Thank you, Copia. Thank you for listening, for insisting, for just… being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, carissima.” You couldn’t help but give him a quizzical look as you tilted your head to the side. “What’s that look for, hm? Do you honestly think I’ve thought of you as only my assistant? All this time?” His hand cupped the side of your face again with his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

“All this time?”

“Sì. You mean more to me than you know. I couldn’t stand to see you in so much…pain. I couldn’t… I didn’t want to keep my feelings to myself any more. I just hope–”

All inhibitions left you and you couldn’t stop yourself as your hand finally reached up for him to pull him close, stopping his words as your lips met his. The kiss was gentle, but the affection you both had, and could finally admit to both yourselves and one another, was unmistakable. When you parted, Copia couldn’t help but quietly laugh. “You feel the same, I take it?”

“I do. I mean, I have for quite some time now. It’s not just because of this moment…” you trailed off trying to find the right words.

“We take things slow, then, sì? Even if just for tonight,” he smirked playfully.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as you nuzzled your head into his chest while wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tightly. The ache was still there, but it had dulled considerably thanks to Copia. The smile wouldn’t leave your face as your space for your grief having grown two sizes. You didn’t have to go through this alone. Not anymore. Neither did he for that matter, because when the time would come, you knew you could be just as strong and supportive for him as he was for you. And there was no one else you’d rather have by your side.

🖤🌹🖤

#copia #papa copia #copia x reader #copia x gn!reader #copia x gn reader #copia x gender neutral reader #copia comfort #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus 4 #papa emeritus iv x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction

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shreeader · 8 months

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Hallway Crush; Phantom Ghoul x Reader

Words: 2715

Pronouns: they/them

WARNINGS: Lots of fluff, like so much fluff, it’s kinda tooth-rotting, the band Ghost is Satanic, mentions of people being gay, slight overthinking, cute stuff, pretty minimal use of y/n

Summary: Phantom sees you at a ritual, and then starts passing by you in the hallway everyday.

A new ghoul. Correction, two new ghouls. They were adorably excited to be part of the ministry; it was obvious on their masked faces.

They already had nicknames from the siblings of sin as well. The ghoul who had taken the position of rhythm guitarist was nicknamed Phantom, and the new female multi-ghoul was nicknamed Aurora. Both had their variations, but Phantom and Aurora stuck the most.

Some of the people in the ministry were sad that Aether was no longer wanted and Sunshine was gone as well, but most welcomed the new ghouls with open arms.

The hallways of the ministry were warmed to a certain degree from the summer heat outside. People were walking the halls, buzzing with excitement for the upcoming ritual. It was later that night, but those setting up were rushing around all over the place, stressing over everything.

Everyone stopped when they heard a muffled microphone screeching from the separate building, and Papa Emeritus IV’s voice rang through once it was finished. “Mic check.” He said before his wonderful voice sang out lyrics to whatever song he could think of, which so happened to be Mary On A Cross.

Smiles lit up the faces as everyone somehow grew even more excited. You stared out the window toward the building with everyone, a grin on your face as well. You and your friends had luckily won the tickets to be in the pit, which were raffled out to several members each ritual out of fairness.

Some of your friends wanted to be on Sodo’s side or toward the middle where they would be able to see Papa better, but you wanted to be on Phantom’s side. The new ghoul has piqued your interest, so you wanted to see what he could do.

A guitar pierced the air, a complex sound with chords that didn’t sound like they belonged to Sodo. People let out squeals of excitement as chatter picked up.

“That’s gotta be Phantom!” One of your friends yelled, jumping while using one of your other friend’s shoulders as a boost.

The deep sound of a bass guitar rang out, gaining even more squeals and sounds of excitement from those in the hall. “Rain!” A chuckle left your lips as you felt the same as everyone else in the hall. No matter how many times you’ve all heard them warming up, the joy still ran its course.

It was almost impossible to get used to them, especially whenever they spice it up.

Another guitar cut through, the chords and skill outdoing the rhythm guitar as if it were a competition. “Oh my Satan, Sodo!” Those around you yelled loudly and there was no doubt fans of the lead guitarist roaming the halls.

One of your friends turned to you, their purple hair bright and colorful. “We should all go get ready!” Erin exclaimed, grabbing your hand and your other friend’s hand. The rest of the group followed as they dragged you throughout the hall.

You stood in the slow-moving line, chatting with your friends. Excitement coursed through your veins as your turn was next. You happily gave your ticket to the user, and they let you enter the pit.

Erin agreed to be on Phantom’s side of the stage with you, making you happy and full of relief. You managed to snag spots right in front of the barrier. “No matter how many times I’ve been, it still feels like a fever dream!” You yelled to Erin, who nodded in agreement.

It felt like forever before it started. The curtain dropped as Kaisarion began playing. You and Erin were quick to join in with everyone’s shouts of excitement and sang along to the lyrics. Phantom played expertly as you pulled out your phone and aimed your camera at him.

Throughout the ritual, he interacted with the crowd a lot. He seemed to keep his eyes on you quite often, even staring at you during Cirice and Mummy Dust. He had tossed a pick to you, which you had caught with a big grin on your face.

At the end of the ritual, you had also gotten a drumstick from Mountain, while Erin gained picks from both Swiss and Rain. You weren’t envious of their treasures because you had your own, and you could only guess that you’d get more trinkets later in life.

You held the drumstick and pick tightly in your grasp, still feeling euphoric and slightly lightheaded from the ritual. Erin had slung their arm around your shoulders as they laughed, leading you to your other friends before you could go get something to eat from the ministry’s cafeteria.

The members of the ministry were still buzzing from the excitement of the previous night. Everyone did their tasks happily as they hummed whatever song was stuck in their head. Everyone included you, as you walked through the halls with a smile on your face as you hummed the solo that Phantom had done during Square Hammer.

People stopped and said hi to whoever was walking in the halls, and you were quick to do so yourself. Your eyes landed on the ghoul you were just thinking about, making a shy grin land on your lips as you greeted him. He returned your smile, and it seemed almost as if it was a brighter smile than the ones he had given others.

You both continued on with your assigned things as you passed by each other.

The following days, you saw him several times. Each time, he gave you the same bright smile and happy greeting, which you gladly reciprocated.

Your friends had begun to notice. They had gotten smiles and greetings from him, but none of them had gotten the same toothy smile and adorable little “hello” that you got from him.

Some of the other ghouls had begun to notice as well, and it quickly spread around in their little circle. Swiss had been the first to notice, which some found somewhat surprising. They didn’t believe him until Cumulus confirmed it herself, and most of them have paid attention to it since.

At lunch after quite a few days of the hallway meets, your friends had been staring at you. It made you feel uncomfortable, so you spoke up. “Why am I being stared at like a Jesus promoter trying to force Christianity on us?”

Erin tried to hold back the smile that wanted to force itself on their lips. “So,” they finally spoke. “Phantom.”

You raised your brows in confusion, wondering why they were bringing up the rhythm guitarist. “What about him?”

“Do you like him?” Your lesbian friend Dahlia asked, leaning forward as a cheeky smile rested on her dark red lips.

“He’s my favorite ghoul, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dahlia laughed, and Riley spoke up from his spot next to her. “She means romantically.” Your face heated up, causing laughter to sound from several of your friends’ mouths.

“Even if I were, there would still be so many other people who are as well, so why single me out?” You asked, gripping onto your fork tightly. Your gaze quickly travelled each of their faces.

Taylor bumped her shoulder to yours with a light smile. “Because there’s no way he doesn’t like you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah right. I don’t believe you guys.” You huffed, your heart racing in your chest. Phantom was cute, and if he had an interest in you…

You shook the thought from your head. There’s no way he would have any interest in you. It’s ridiculous. If anything, he was merely just a hallway crush. That’s it. Someone you only like when you see them in the hallway. Plus, he has a ton of fans who would kill to be with him.

Yet there was still that spark of hope in your chest. It had been so tiny before.

You had noticed how much happier he looked at the sight of you.

You had noticed that before that ritual you were in front of him at, he never took that hallway.

You had noticed that after that ritual, he had started taking that hallway everyday since he saw you there.

You had noticed that he often seemed reluctant to leave after saying hello to you in the hallway.

You had noticed his body language becoming a little shyer around you.

You had noticed that he never had his mask pulled up in the hallway, but everywhere else, it was put snugly above his nose.

Your friends had taken that spark of hope and added fuel, turning it into a tiny flame that you wanted to nurture into a much larger one.

You refrained from doing that, for your mind kept you from believing your friends. You just couldn’t believe them. There was no way you could without solid proof from Phantom.

You zoned back in to see them giving you soft smiles. “You’re so adorable.” Erin laughed, shoving some of the food on the tray in front of them into their mouth.

You were zoned out while roaming the halls later that night, not noticing you ended up in the spot where he always passes by you. You stopped where he usually managed to stop you, your attention returning.

Your eyes focused on the hardwood floors first before they trailed up and to the right, looking out the giant window. The moon was bright and full, providing more light to the dim hallway than it usually would. Stars were visible here and there, dotting the partly cloudy, night sky.

The quiet hallway was cooler than it was during the day, but it wasn’t anywhere close enough to leave you shivering. It was peaceful, making you almost wish you had brought a book or at least something to do with you.

Your thoughts were plagued by thoughts of Phantom. Your friends’ words forced thoughts of him even further forward in your mind than you would ever like to admit. You wondered if they were just trying to embarrass you or something, but you doubted that. Your friends were good people, and people you’ve known for a while and shared several secrets with.

Soft footsteps dragged your eyes from the moon, and there was a tall figure dressed in all black walking down the hall. It had no curves, nor was it as short as most of the ghoulettes, so you ruled out that possibility. You could barely make out the horns on his head, basically screaming that it was a ghoul.

As he grew closer, you noticed him reach up to the mask covering the lower half of his face. His pale hand with the black ring on the index finger moved it down from beneath his mask. His lips formed into the oh so familiar smile that you’ve been seeing in the hallway the past couple of days.

“Hello.” That one word made your heart flutter. His perfect voice sent your cheeks straight into a pit of lava, warming them up fast.

Your gut churned as you managed to splay a soft smile on your lips. “Hi.” You said your usual response, wringing your hands together in front of you. “Are you just passing by?”

“Only if you want me to be.”

He let out a small chuckle, and you were quick to shake your head. “No, I don’t.” You let your eyes trail over his masked face, which was covered in shadows.

It felt weird to see him in the shadows while you were in the moonlight. It’d normally be the other way around, as he was a managed sort of chaotic on stage. He shifted, eyes looked out at the moon as his smile stayed on his face. “It’s a gorgeous night, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it is.” You turned your eyes to look out the window as well. You couldn’t tell if the silence was a soft, uncomfortable one, or if it was an insufferable, awkward one. You looked back to see him looking at you.

He opened his mouth to speak, trying to find the right words, yet you could only assume they failed him as his mouth shut once again. “What’s your name?” He managed to ask, still giving you that toothy grin he still only gave you.

“(Y/n).” You answered, trying to keep your smile more toned down than it felt like it was going to be. “Do you normally pass through here at night or was this just a coincidence?”

Phantom let out an airy chuckle, almost as if he was embarrassed by what he was about to admit. “I started coming down this hall every night and standing at this window as a habit. I guess I was hoping you’d pass through here at this time, so I could see you.”

If you weren’t blushing before, you sure as hell were now. Your heart beat fast in your chest, and you felt as if he could hear it from his position near you. Your fingertips felt cold, yet your ears and neck burned with heat. Your brain had nearly short-circuited.

You didn’t know if you could handle a confession at that point. One of the ghouls hoping he could see you by coming to the same spot in the hallway that he sees you every day was honestly one of the cutest and most endearing things you’ve ever heard.

He stood there in front of you, playing with the ring on his index finger as he stared at you. That toothy grin was merely just an awkward smile now, and you could feel a dopey one appearing on your face.

“That’s so adorable.” You breathed out, bringing your cold fingertips to your cheeks as his awkward smile turned into a relieved one. His lips were so expressive, even though they were also masked most of the time.

He took a step closer to you, the light shining a bit on his mask. It showed the long black horns perfectly, and you noticed how part of the mask had been scratched. You hoped it had just been a design choice of his and not anything serious.

Phantom took another step, stopping just in front of you. You craned your neck up to look into the pieces of plastic in front of his eyes. The moonlight was cheeky as it snuck in there somehow, giving you the faintest outline of his eyes.

They were probably so gorgeous beneath his mask, but you wouldn’t ask him to take it off out of respect and safety. He leaned his head down toward you as he brought his hands up.

They gently grabbed your cheeks, palms rough with calluses from playing guitar and who knows what else; however, they were so warm against your already warm cheeks. Your hands placed themselves above his as you both kept your smiles, albeit however shaky they were.

He was careful not to let the tips of his horns touch you as he leaned the forehead of his mask against your forehead. You could just barely feel his breath on your face, and you managed to make out his eyes shutting behind his mask.

You watched him for any sign of movement before you let your eyes fall closed. “Hello.” He whispered, warning a small giggle from you at how silly it was.

“Hi.” You responded, and Phantom’s hands moved to intertwine with yours, pulling them down from your face to rest between you two.

You fluttered your eyes open to see him staring at you. “What do you say to getting to know each other?” His voice was hopeful, making the spark of hope in your chest ignite once more.

The spark that had turned into a small flame, was growing into a bonfire. You figured that it would soon turn into a raging inferno or blaze.

You squeezed his hands in your tender moment with him, the moonlight shining through the window onto you both so softly, yet so perfectly. “I say yes.”

It was honestly incredible how after a ritual, seeing each other in the hallways and giving each other little greetings turned out. His smile, his personality, his voice, just him. He became a hallway crush, and you hoped he would become something more.

#the band ghost #ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #phantom ghoul #phantom x reader #phantom ghoul x reader #gender neutral reader #phantom ghost #papa emeritus 4 #papa emeritus iv #the nameless ghouls #x reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff #pure fluff

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