#papa emeritus 3 x you
Text
— 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.
#ghost bc#ghost band#papa emeritus iii#gender neutral reader#papa emeritus iii x reader#papa emeritus iii x you#terzo x you#terzo x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x oc#ghost fanfiction#ghost bc x reader#ghost bc x you#ghost band x reader#ghost band x you#papa emeritus 3 x reader#papa emeritus 3 x you#terzo x reader smut#ghost bc smut
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Forgot to share on here! Terzomega lanyard charms are here 💜✨
LINK TO LISTING
#my art#terzomega#terzo x omega#omega ghoul#papa emeritus iii#omega3#terzo#ghost fan merch#kofi shop#its currently low in stock but i recently reordered more.#i did not expect this to sell so well!! thank you to those who did purchase one. <3
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@copiasjuicebox - hello friend! im sorry you're having headaches aa let me take your 'writing cute copia' shift for tonight <3
Miscellaneous Cute Copia x Reader Headcanons
He's the type to baby talk his rats and call himself their dad and you their father (or papa or whatever variation you're more comfortable with).
Likes making mini versions of his meal whenever he cooks so the rats can eat with you guys. They have their own little spot kind of like a kiddy table but for rats.
Always checks in with you when it comes to physical affection or any kind of PDA and respects your boundaries. The first time you check in with him in return, he flounders a bit, unsure how to respond. No one has ever asked him before you, and he gets a little teary eyed and asks if he can hug you. From then on, you always make sure to check in with him too.
Likes to sing to himself when he's alone with you or at home. He definitely is prone to forgetting lyrics and I feel like he's the sort to just make up the lyrics on the spot by just singing whatever he's currently doing or thinking. It's made you giggle more than once before, and he loves nothing more than making you smile.
Doesn't really cry that much during sad movies, but will absolutely bawl like a baby any time there's a scene where the underdog finally gets their dreams. You tease him just a little bit for that.
It becomes a tradition to decorate cookies together during the holidays. One year you gift him rat-shaped cookie cutters and since then he refuses to use any other cutters. He likes to decorate at least one batch to look like his rats, and will give each corresponding rat their cookie as a little treat for the holiday.
Sometimes he'll ask for a kiss and say it's for good luck for 'so and so' but he secretly just wanted to kiss you and was too awkward to ask directly.
Definitely keeps pennies he finds on the ground and will show you and tell you that they are lucky pennies. If you tell him you don't believe in that sort of thing, he gets the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes until you say that you do.
#is for u!#the band ghost#copia#ghost band#ghost bc#papa emeritus iv#cardinal copia#papa emeritus iv x reader#cardinal copia x reader#hope you dont mind!#feel better soon#sending good vibes#<3
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Papa’s Wife
Papa Emeritus III x Reader
Papa Emeritus III x Reader Smut
Warnings: forced marriage, unwanted marriage, smut, praise kink, unprotected sex, consensual smut, etc.
It was forced. Not arranged. No. Don’t get that confused. It was a forced marriage. A forced marriage to join the two most powerful churches of the anti-Christ together. A forced marriage between you and Papa Emertius III.
The two of you first found out at a ‘family dinner’. Satan knows why they called it that, after all it was practically just a meeting with food you daren’t touch after learning what the ghouls feast on. Papa Nihil took a gulp of oxygen before turning to your father, “Quade,” Your father hummed. “I believe it is time.” “Si, Nihil. I agree.” He replied, and you looked between the two with questioning eyes, your mother just offered an almost animalistic grin, before the inevitable followed.
“Emeritus, (Y/n),” She began. “You are to be wed.” You dropped the cutlery in your clutch and it clattered harshly onto your empty plate. “Excuse me?” You coughed. “Do not interrupt me, child.” She seethed. “You are to join the two churches in a marital conjoining of law.” Her voice was cold, and harsh.
You had been planning on leaving the church for years. And now you were well and truly trapped. Never mind, you were fucked. “You can’t make us.” Emeritus spoke up, voice shaking slightly as Nihil gave him a side-glance. “We can and we will. On the night of October 31st you are to join in holy matrimony.” She concluded, a sickening look of contempt settled over her features.
“That’s a week today.” You stated, voice rising. “Do not raise your voice at me girl. You will do as I say.” Your mother hissed. “Mama-” “Enough!” She slammed her left fist against the table, causing Emeritus and yourself to jump anxiously. “This is to happen under the watchful eye for the anti-Christ and you are not to disobey me!”
You inhaled sharply before raising from your seated form, chair screeching on the floor as you sent it backwards. You hurried out of the room, not knowing where to go as this was the church of Nihil, not your own.
A cellar. That was where you found yourself. The tears on your cheeks were hot, your mind buzzing with a mixture of angered emotions. You heard the door creak from the corner you were bundled in, but you couldn’t care to look. Why should you? Your life was being sold to a breathing corpse and his family.
“Amor,” You hear the voice of the person you least wanted to see at that moment. “Fuck off Emeritus.” His tone soon changed. “I don’t want this shit as much as you don’t, but at least I have the decency to be civil.” He stated, voice icy. “Civil? I wanted out of my family. Not to be sold into yours.” You told him, looking up to meet his stare. “We are slaves to Lucifer. We have been sold. (Y/n) you cannot run from a fate that has already captured you. Grow up and understand that.” He spat. You just shook you head and dropped it to your knees.
Emeritus approached you and held out an envelope. You raised an eyebrow. “If I am to be married, my bride is to wear the best dress money can buy.” Suddenly he was unable to make his gaze meet your own. “I can buy my own dress.” Realising you would not take his money, he just dropped it by your feet. “Black is a good colour.” He began walking to the door. “There is no point running from it, believe me, I have tried.” The door shut behind him.
The next week passed disturbingly fast, and somehow you found yourself at the steps of Nihil’s Church, clutching a bouquet consisting of black petunias, roses, tulips, and dahlias. The black dress you were adorning trailed behind you, dragging against the cold stone floor. The lace of the bodes dug into your skin and your hair was pulled back uncomfortably tight. Nothing about this day was a fairytale, only the horrors of a nightmare.
To a foreign eye the way your father’s arm was gripping your own was wholesome and heartwarming. But he was merely holding you that tight as to not allow you to flee. He was more anxious than you, him eager to hand you over and seal the fate of the church of the Anti-Christ.
The doors opened and the audience stand, a very limited number of which you recognised. You only looked at your feet and you walked the dull-lit isle. “Stand up straight, girl.” You heard your mother whisper, harshly. You automatically corrected your posture, only looking at your supposed groom when you reached the altar.
Emeritus wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone at that moment but himself, but oh lord, you were gorgeous. The black lace. The long trailing vail. The black flowers. Everything about you was breathtaking. He felt like he had died and gone to hell.
You kneeled on the black velvet cushion beside Emeritus, inhaling slowly and slowly accepting the knowledge of what you were about to do. You hardly heard the voice of the vicar as the ceremony droned out, only to feel your heart drop out of your chest when silence followed the question of objection.
You reluctantly held out your hand as the small blade created a cut in your palm, and you couldn’t help but revel in the pain for a moment, enjoying the feeling of slipping away. Even if only temporary. A slice was made into your companion’s and they were forced together, and you had to stifle a hiss of pain at the sensation of your blood mixing.
The rings were exchanged and the vicar grinned. “You may now kiss your bride.” Neither of you moved, but when Papa Nihil intentionally cleared his throat, Emeritus gently gripped your chin and turned it towards his. “I am sorry.” He left a light and lingering kiss to your lips, but that was enough for the chapel room, as an eruption of applause followed.
That was it. It was done. You were wed and you were stuck. You were now the wife of Papa Emeritus III.
The reception was a complete oxymoron of your mood. It was joyous and even your mother cracked a smile, they were happy and had done their job. You were a pawn. Their pawn. You were miserable and the mascara patterning your skin showed that. You sat on the steps with your head in your hands, bouquet disregarded beside you.
You heard someone exit though the door behind you, and then they perched alongside you on the icy cobblestone. You looked towards your estranged associate. It was Emeritus. Your husband. He said nothing, only sipping on a glass of expensive champagne and allowing his bow tie to fall loose along with the top few buttons of his once-crisp white shirt.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He told you, eyes not moving from the moon hanging high above the pair of you. You just hummed, turning your head to look at him. “We were supposed to fall in love. You denied like Romeo and Juliet. We were supposed to be forbidden. We were not supposed to be forced, mi amor.” He admitted. You had already accepted it at this point, all optimism being left in the pool of blood sitting back in the Chapel. So all you could do was listen.
“I always loved you.” He said. “I used to comb my hair back when my father said your family was visiting. I even picked you some flowers but I never made it past the doorway. I was scared.” He finally looked you in the eye. “I am still a scared little boy, (Y/n).” He swallowed thickly. “But now I am a scared little boy with a wife.” He just shook his head with a cold chuckle. “You were supposed to love me, not hate me.” You watched a single tear fall from his eye.
You said nothing, not a word in response. But you put your arms around your husband and pulled him into an embrace, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He returned it tightly, inhaling the sweet scent from the mixture of shampoo and perfume. You pulled back and wiped the tear from under his eye and steadily kissed where it once was.
That night he became the Papa of the church. And yourself his wife. He opened the door to the two of yours room and not a word was spoken. You slept in the bed and he laid his head down on the large sofa. You both cried yourselves to sleep that night. Somehow your thoughts were silent, nothing was on your mind. And that confused you. But you knew one thing for certain, you were okay being his wife.
The next morning you walked around as if the other was not there. He made his breakfast and you made yours. He went about his day with his ghouls and you went about yours wandering the gardens. And it stayed that way for a while. Actually for approximately four months.
It was late February, almost March. That day you woke and did something almost outlandish. You made yourself breakfast, and then your husbands. You don’t know why you did it. It was not intentional. And you had not done this previously. But you just did it, automatically. You made him breakfast.
“Good morning.” He mumbled, walking into the kitchen and towards the cabinet for his cereal, not expecting a reply. “Good morning.” You responded softly, holding out his bowl to him. He looked between yourself and the contents of the bowl for a minute or two, before taking it from your grasp and putting his hand on the back of your head, pulling you forward to kiss your hair with gratitude. Thank you, Cara Mia.” He said and for once you gave him a genuine smile, before a silence took over the household once again. But for the first time is was a comforting silence, not a thick or harsh one.
You each got dressed simultaneously and you sat at the vanity, grumbling over the small clasp on your necklace that was refusing to cooperate. He held out his hand and you looked at him through the mirror. “May I?” You passed him the delicate jewellery and held your hair up in your hand as to not get it in his way, and he seemingly effortlessly joined the chain around your neck.
“Thank you.” His eyes met your own in the reflection as you expressed your appreciation, and he reciprocated earlier’s smile. “You are welcome.” He grabbed his song sheets after a moment of looking at each other, and headed for the door. Although, suddenly stopping abruptly. “Would you like to join us? The ghouls would not object to your presence in practise.” He asked, thoughtfully and you turned to him - not even second guessing your answer for a moment. “Yes, I would love to.”
Now, it wasn’t the first time that he had offered you a seat in their rehearsal room, but it was the first time you had accepted. You slipped on your shoes, and followed him out of the door, slipping your arm into his when her held it out for you.
You knew most of their songs off by heart. Not by ear, but by reading. You had taken the time to learn all of the scripted lyrics of your husband’s band, whether you meant it in a loving way or not. You kept to yourself in the corner, picking at the petals of a forget-me-not flower that you had plucked on the way here.
“Is she just going to sit there making a mess?” One ghoul growled, motioning vaguely to the pail petals now haphazardly decorating the floor. You think he was called Dewdrop, at least that’s what Emeritus had informed you. “Are you just going to stand there playing out of tune notes?” You retaliated, sarcastically cocking your head sideward. “Oh you think you could play better than me?” He snarled. “Oh you think you can play?” You reacted and he took a few steps towards you. “Watch your mouth, after all it seems like you’d make a decent meal.” He warned, but before you could strike back, a deafening shout was hollered from across the room.
“HEY!” Emertius’ voice was loud and laced with a horrid venom. He took large and fast strides towards the ghoul, backing him up against a wall. “Watch how you talk with my wife. The scared ghoul could only cower and nod furiously, trail tucked with a cowardice between his legs. “Yes papa.” His once cruel and demanding tone now weak and shaking.
Then your husband turned to you, taking your face into his hands with a light and delicate grasp. “Are you okay, Mia Caro?” He asked, a small and regretful pout at his lips, you only wrapped your hands around his hand nodded. “I am fine.” “What do you say to her?” He asked, head turning back to Dew. “I am sorry.” “And?” “And I will never talk with you in that way again.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, not even with a mask to hide behind. “I forgive you.” And the practise went on, a newly found feeling dwelling in the darkest pits of your stomach after the events of that situation. A feeling that was unrecognisable and foreign, but understandable and welcome.
That night Emeritus walked over to tell you goodnight, but you patted against the spot beside you in the intentionally shared bed. He looked at you with a questioning gaze. “Can you sleep here tonight?” You asked, suddenly nervous for his response. “Please?” He smiled gently, climbing in next to you and turning off the light. It was silent and still for a long while, before his hand brushed against yours. You both pulled back but then you did something even you didn’t expect from yourself, you turned onto your side and placed your head against his shoulder.
Instead of pulling away, he immediately wrapped both arms around you and hugged you close, lips against your forehead and lingering there for a long while. “Emeritus?” You began, voice small and quiet. “Yes, my love?” That was the first one he had addressed you in those terms in English. “I am also a scared little girl.” You referee back fo his confession on your wedding day and you heard him inhale sharply through the darkness. “But I think I am also grown up enough to admit that I have always loved you too. And I am happy to be your wife. Even under these circumstances.” He took your face in his hand and kissed your lips gently, smiling with bliss covering his features.
The next day was the beginning of his first tour as the new frontman of Ghost. His first rituals under the public eye. The brothers and sisters of the clergy gathered around the bus as they were waved off, but The Papa ignored his desperate disciples and focussed all of his attention on you. Your face was cradled in his hands, his bags disregarded by his feet. “I love you.” He told you, caressing your cheekbones with his thumb. “I love you too.” You kissed him forcefully on the lips, knowing that would be the first and last time you had to do that in months. “Be safe.” You instructed in a protective and warning tone and he just laughed wholeheartedly. “I will, mia dolcezza.” And he was gone. Gone to preach to the world the word of the Anti-Christ. Gone from your grasp for another night.
The following day you decided to write to him, a wholesome, innocent little letter describing your feelings and the love you had recently discovered was lying dormant in your heart for him. He returned it with as much love and adoration, and they only accumulated from there.
But the virtue and decency was lost a while after your writings began, and were replaced by that of sin, and many that should remain closed behind the confinements of a lover’s bedroom door.
You were both excitingly anxious and nervously reluctant to send that letter. For it described what you desired your husband to do to you, the things that were disregarded and abandoned from the consumption of your wedding night. And with it, a few small Polaroids of which the contents shall not be spoken through words.
The crude images and sheer lace sent Papa Emeritus III wild. He wasn’t necessarily expecting that message but he was more than great full for it and to return it, a sudden flood of want and need rushing through his cold blood and thumbing through the confinement’s of his underwear. He needed his wife. And he needed you now. And so in return, you got what you gave, a set of small photographs that now sat buried beneath your underwear in a drawer, the sight of his dick now enough to send you into a crazed and dazed frenzy, also - some nights spent by yourself, pleasuring yourself through unspeakable things.
So when the time came for them to return, you stood anxiously along with the brothers and sisters of the church, awaiting your beloveds return. Only snapping out of your distant and wild thoughts when the cheers and eruption of clapping filled your ears, the bus was here.
Papa was first of the bus, and his eyes scoured the crowd, before they focused on you. You both smiled wildly and he shoved through the hoard of followers and straight into your arms. He picked you up and span your around, kissing you with as much force of what should have been at the altar. “I have missed you so much, my love.” You told him. “I have missed you more, magnifico.” He put you down and leaned close to your ear. “You are a naughty girl, sending those Polaroids.” A jolt of electricity powered through your legs and straight to your core. “Did you not enjoy them, darling?” You asked, peering up at him with innocence shining through your doe-eyes.
“You do not want to know what I did with those images.” He growled. “Oh I think the results are sat in my drawer upstairs.” You responded, a small smirk playing on your lips. “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now, mi amor.” He hissed, discreetly grinding his quickly growing erection into your front. “Do it to me, papa. I want you to make love to me.” You stood on the tips of your toes to whisper into his ear. “I need you to ruin me.”
That’s how you found yourself beneath your husband. He had carried you bridal-style back to your shared abode, and carefully dropped you onto your bed, lips hungrily travelling over all the skin he could get to. “Are you sure, amor?” “Please, yes.” You whimpered our, finding yours and his clothes thrown across the room into multiple careless piles.
He appreciated every inch of your body, licking and sucking and marking his territory like a wild animal, only stopping at your underwear to regain consent. “Papa please do something.” You pleased. “What do you want me to do, Mia Caro?” He teased. “Your mouth.” You groaned. “What do you want me to do with my mouth, come on sweetness, use your words.” You cried out. “I want your mouth between my legs.” “There we go, I can do that.” And before long he was kissing a trail down your thighs and quickly then licking and sucking on your sensitive clit, tongue diving into your hole every so often. “Perhaps my mouth was not necessary,” He dragged two fingers against your slit in a teasing manor as you moaned loudly. “You are already dripping, after all.” He hummed against you, sending vibrations pulsing through your body.
He plunged two fingers into you and you cried loudly, an overwhelming sensation filling you as your stomach tightened. “Papa I’m going to, I-” He smiled and nodded. “Yes my love, let go.” And the cord snapped, allowing you to come undone all over his fingers. “Good girl.”
He lined himself up with your entrance and your eyes widened, concerned that he would be unable to fit. “Are you ready, mi amor?” You nodded; letting your head fall backwards into the comfort of the fluffed-up pillows. He slipped inside until he bottomed out, the only noise for a prolonged-moment was the sound of the two of yours mixed heavy breathing, as he allowed you time to adjust.
Emeritus threaded your fingers through his own and raised them both above your head to support his weight. “Move, please.” You requested, and he began rocking back and forth. Once neat hair, now gradually becoming dishevelled and falling around to frame his face. He growled anomalistically, but did not quicken his space. Instead, dragging it out to bask in the long-awaited pleasure and allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you up.
That pleasurable feeling returned once more, and he kissed your lips to help you through it. You moaned into his mouth as you came, forcing him to cum also, straight after you. He remained buried inside of you for a moment, head in your neck, before he pulled out and rested beside you, pulling your body into his and the covers over the two of you.
“I love you, my gorgeous wife.”
“I love you too, my husband.”
#masterlist#xreader#warner sister#smut#angst#fluff#requests#x you#papa#emeritus#papa emeritus lll#papa emeritus 3#papa x reader#ghost x reader#ghost band x reader#ghost band x reader smut#ghost#ghost band#band#ghostband#ghost bc#ghostbc#unnamedghoul#papa emeritus x reader#papa emeritus x reader smut#papa emeritus III x reader#papa Emeritus III x reader smut#papa emeritus 3 x reader#papa emeritus 3 x reader smut#forced marriage
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Let's Get These Heels Off...
Burlesque!Terzo x Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, Smut, MDNI!, Lingerie, basically smut with a little tiny bit of plot 🤷♀️
Word count: 3.4k
ANYWAY, I'M BACK HI HELLO!!!!! I really did not mean to take a hiatus, but I am in grad school and that just needed my attention these past weeks. I have been writing the whole time, this just happens to be the first thing to get finished!
But! I am sooooo excited about this! @angellayercake and I have been squealing and giggling and losing our minds over burlesque Terzo for months now and she requested this special 🥰 it was an honor to write this for you, my dearest Cake, and I hope you love it as much as I love Pastimes for a Retired Papa and Banchetto!!! Enjoy 😘
Photo credit to @theshamelessghoul @vitadevoid on Instagram 🩷 please go follow both of her accounts, she's an absolutely beautiful artist.
After stalking his Instagram page every night for a week, you knew you had to see him perform in person. Not to mention that Vegas isn't too far a drive from your place. You 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to see him, you just had to.
And that's how you found yourself at the door of this club, paying the high cover charge. The venue was well worth it though, beautiful dark decor, mirrors and dim lighting making the place feel large, but intimate. You'd made it a point to dress appropriately, wanting to look fine and feel your best, but not outshine the performers. So you went with a tight black leather dress that displays your bust nicely, black lace long sleeve crop top layered over, and of course black stiletto heels to match.
Glad you came by yourself to fulfill this silly little fantasy, you take a seat in a quaint cushioned arm chair, noticing the array of vintage mismatched furniture, and order a drink. There was already a set going on, dancers gracefully moving across the stage, with the lighting offering glimpses of the room while keeping most of the viewers concealed in the shadows. You were grateful for that.
You'd never been to a place like this before and you just wanted to view the art from a distance.
Just in time too, as the one you'd been longing for took the stage, his presence larger than life, seemingly squeezing all the air from the room... And he hadn't even shown any skin yet.
His gig was definitely out of the ordinary, but there was something so alluring about watching this Anti-Pope, Papa Emeritus the Third, sashay across the stage. His dance style is slow and sensual, teasingly revealing a fishnet clad leg here or a lace covered hip there as he slowly works his way out of his papal vestments.
He certainly has the bedroom eyes down to a science as you find yourself unable to look away. Another thing that's hard to look away from is that beautifully plump ass, showcased so artfully with leather straps cupping his cheeks.
The Anti-Pope was well practiced at making his way across the floor, legs spread sinfully and hands groping various body parts. Lastly, he unhooks his corset to reveal tassels on his nipples, and he wasn't left in much more than those and a pair of panties. A few more twirls around the stage and the last few notes of the song ring out, while the lights go totally dark, leaving it pitch black in the room. The click of his heels returning backstage are the only sound until the lights slowly come back up.
Hell, he really knew how to leave a crowd wanting more. Or maybe it was just you--either way, you were happy to have seen him perform in person. It had been worth the drive and every penny.
You were pleasantly surprised to find him in the kickline of a few other performances that night, for the performers that needed back up dancers. Although you did think it was unfair for the boss to put him in the back like that, because he always stole the stage from whoever was supposed to be leading.
After the night had simmered down, a few of the dancers creeped out into the audience, mingling with the crowd to keep them happy and earn the waiters some higher tips. There were still a few performances happening, but they hardly held your attention as you felt a shift in the vibe. Papa had come out from backstage and was taking his time greeting the guests, many of them wanting to kiss his hands or cheeks.
He's so charismatic that people are drawn to him like a magnet. You feel the pull too, but you're perfectly content to watch from afar... It's not like he would know you anyway.
That is, until it seems like he's coming your way. Is he? No. Surely he's looking for someone behind you.
Tensing your fingers around the arms of the chair, you try to straighten up as best you can as he saunters right over, leaning forward and placing his hands on top of yours, effectively pinning you to the spot. His nose is only inches from yours as he looks you over, "Didn't your Mama teach you it's impolite to stare?"
"D-don't mind me... I'm just enjoying the view, um, Papa." You knew you didn't stand a chance of sounding confident in front of him, so you just did your best not to fumble your words.
He smirks, letting you know he enjoys the flattery, "Please, tesoro, call me Terzo. Papa is simply my stage name." He winks and offers his hand up to your lips.
Carefully, you take his hand in yours, appreciating his short black nails, before softly placing a kiss to his knuckles. "Terzo," you whisper, mostly to yourself.
While his hand is still in yours, he snakes his hand around your wrist before bringing it to his lips. "And you? Who are you this evening, dolce mia?"
"Just a starstruck fan," you supply before giving your name.
Still kissing his way up your arm, he tries your name on his tongue before nipping at your earlobe, earning a heavy breath from you.
"Would you like to take this somewhere a bit more private, bella?"
You stutter, "I-I didn't... I didn't think that was allowed here."
"Sì, sì, you are right, 'no stripping here on The Strip', eh?" he chuckles. He stands up and stares you down, looking you directly in the eyes, "I guess I'll be getting off all by myself tonight then." He fakes a pout before flashing a playful look at you.
Suddenly he's walking away, as if he'd forgotten about you all together.
"Hey, wait!"
He keeps walking, heading up the spiral staircase behind the stage. You hesitate momentarily before chasing him up the stairs. You had come all this way; why not take the fantasy as far as he would let you?
Upstairs, he sits at his vanity, illuminated beautifully by the soft light. Yet again, you stare as he fixes up his makeup. When he sees you behind him, he makes a comment about you being in his mirror.
But then he stands up and you're drawn to one another. He turns and within a second, his hands are on your jaw and yours on his waist, making out.
At some point, you were spun around and the next thing you know, you're being backed into another vanity, stumbling into it as lip glosses and tubes of mascara roll onto the floor. Grabbing roughly at your ass, Terzo lifts you onto the vanity, mouth never leaving yours. In fact, he uses it as leverage to gain access to your tongue.
Your fingers tremble in an attempt to untie the silk robe he'd covered his lingerie with, while he's working your black lace top off. As it drifts slowly to the floor, you start to hear a rumbling noise across the room.
Terzo pulls away from you, and before you can ask what the noise is, he's pulling you off the vanity. "Come with me, cara mia," he whispers, dragging you behind one of the various curtains back stage. Suddenly the room fills with chatter, and you realize the noise had been many, many sets of high heels coming up the stairs. The night must be over downstairs and the club getting ready to close.
Wrapped in a shroud of darkness behind the heavy velvet curtain, you feel Terzo's hands return to your waist and his lips at your ear, "Quiet, dolcezza, we wouldn't want to get caught, would we?"
"No," you reply, trying not to giggle. His mouth is curled into a big smile as it makes contact with your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along your exposed skin. Silently you let out a shaky breath, fighting off a whimper.
"Ugh! Whose shirt is this?! They knocked over all my shit!" one of the dancers yells, receiving a low chuckle from Terzo.
Hands sliding up his body, you finally slip that robe from his shoulders, exposing more skin, but your hands are much more interested in diving into that luscious black hair, which draws another low noise from the man. "Shhhh," you breathe out.
His hot mouth is now lapping at your cleavage, until his thumb finds the scandalously placed zipper on the front of your tight leather dress. Inching the pull tab down, his nose dips down to the space between your breasts where he places a soft kiss.
Gently you hold him against you, one hand tangled in his hair, the other on his cheek. Undoubtedly, you have his face paint all over you, but Terzo is simply alluring in everything that he does. From the way he performs on stage, grasping everyone's attention in the palm of his hand to the dangerous way he romances you, kissing you like he loves you... you know you'll never get enough.
Finally, the dressing room starts to quiet down. Girls chatter about where they're going to grab dinner or who's going home with who. And eventually, you're left alone with your lover for the night.
Peaking his head out from behind the curtain, Terzo nods that the coast is clear, taking your hand and smirking, "Per favore, bella mia, follow me. I know the perfect place to have my way with you."
Cocky in an endearing way, that's how you'd describe him. A stranger who somehow knows exactly what you need... It's maddening, but comforting.
However, upon reaching some kind of office door, you are given some pause, "Hey, woah, where are we going?"
"Just through here, amore," he tugs your hand.
"I mean, is that someone's office? Are we supposed to be in here?" You question him, but the idea of getting caught has certainly done something to you.
"Sì, the owner's. Won't it be fun, dolce?"
Looking between his hand still holding yours and his playful duochromatic eyes, you can't deny him. "Yes," you grin, biting your lip as he pulls you through the doorway, nearly slamming it behind you.
Despite him not being the largest man, he has full control of your body, making quick work of shoving everything off the desk and laying you back on it. "Bellissima, cara mia, your beauty is unmatched," he mumbles, admiring your disheveled form spread out before him.
You huff, "Please... Have you seen yourself?" It was true. He looks like pure debauchery in that moment, leaning over you in nothing but heels, fishnets, and a black lace thong.
He smiles in a way that almost looks shy, "Sì, but tonight is all about you, no?" He leans over you on the desk, placing a kiss to your jaw.
"Who said that?" you sigh at his contact.
"You did, signora, with your actions," his lips start their decent down your body, again on your cleavage, your sternum, your belly, as he slowly unzips your dress and continues his explanation, "you drive all the way out here, from wherever you come from; you dress up; you spend your evening with us... I have never seen you before."
By now he's made his way to the waistband of your panties, kissing the skin just above the lace.
"Oh, and you know everyone who comes in here?" you chuckle and your hand comes up to massage his scalp.
"Mmm, sì, amore," he slides the zipper down to where it ends at your knees, allowing the dress to fall open, and he lifts one of your legs off the desk to nip at your inner thigh, "and if I do not know someone... I make it a point to introduce myself." His devious eyes flicker up to yours.
"So you do this with everyone you meet?" you sit up and raise your eyebrows, shaking the dress straps from your shoulders.
"Are you implying something about me, tesoro? Besides..." He ducks his head down, rubbing his nose perfectly across your clit, "It's not lady-like to kiss and tell."
Feeling his hot breath even through your underwear, you're met with those smoldering bedroom eyes he had on stage. When you let out an involuntary whimper, you have to stop yourself from urging his face towards your core.
Like a mind-reader though, he's pulling off your panties, "You must've been wet from the moment you saw me on stage." He grins proudly, but before you can chide him, Terzo's mouth is already on you, instead stealing the air from your lungs as his tongue circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Ah! Oh, Terzo..." you gasp as your fingers curl in his soft hair. If your eyes hadn't been screwed shut in pleasure, you would've seen the enjoyment written on your lover's face as he works his magic.
His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you to the edge of the desk to be able to dip his tongue between your folds, teasing your entrance. Your needy whines egg him on as he fucks you with his tongue, that perfect nose smashed up against your oh-so-sensitive clit. It's so overwhelming you actually try to push his face away, but Terzo digs his heels in, holding you firmly in place. Surely you'll have bruises where his fingertips clutch at your skin.
In an embarrassing amount of time, that familiar tension builds in your abdomen. Looking down at the man through your lashes, you feel an urge to beg for permission, but your mouth is unable to form the words. He senses it though, and gives you a gentle nod without disrupting his ministrations. Thighs squeezing against his ears and a high heel digging into his back, you cum for him, convulsing as he carries you through it.
Carefully, he stands up between your legs, allowing you to lean on him with your arms wrapped around his neck as you both catch your breath. Propping your chin up on his chest, you look up at Terzo. His face paint is totally wrecked, but you like seeing what's beneath it as well.
"Bene?" He whispers softly, "Was it good for you?"
"Yes," you let out a breathy laugh at the absurdity of that question. Eyes trailing down, you notice his painfully hard cock barely concealed by his thong. Looking up at him, you slowly reach for it, and you're met with a pleased hum when you palm at the head.
His lips find yours once again as he gently bucks into your hand, feeling just as needy for you as you'd been for him. "Per favore..." he rasps, "please."
"Please, what, baby?" you ask him.
"Fottimi," he says it so quietly you hardly hear him.
"Hm?" you look up, cupping his chin in your fingers, other hand still working his throbbing desire.
Squeezing his eyes closed, a beautiful blush blooms across his cheeks, "Fuck me. Please, fuck me..."
Seeing this once-confident performer enter such a space, you feel even more of a need to please him; it lights a fire like you hadn't experienced before. "Why don't you go lay on the couch for me then, hm?"
It's not lost on you how earlier you'd been worried to even come in the office, and now you're telling your lover to use the furniture.
He nods and takes a couple steps across the small room, heels clicking on the old hardwood floor. Pausing in front of the small piece of furniture like he has to think about it, he slowly bends at the hips, placing his hands on the soft cushion first, then following with his knees.
You follow him over, unable to resist his plump backside. Palming and squeezing at it, you chide him, "Putting your cute little ass on display for me? Just like you did on stage," you trail off. 𝘛𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘱! You earn an involuntary moan from Terzo as you spank him. He turns to look over his shoulder at you, where you then lean down and press a soft kiss to the hand mark you left on him, "I think I asked you to lay down."
He gives you that devilish grin before flopping back on the sofa, stretching and arching his back, feigning innocence.
Something about him acting this way emboldens you, so settling between his spread legs, you reach down and harshly tear open the front of his fishnet stockings, "If you want to act like a little whore, then I'm going to treat you like one!"
He reaches down to grab your wrist, placing it on his crotch and rutting against your hand again, "Sì, amore, please..."
Snatching your wrist away, you swat your fingers at his erection, making him jerk in a way that you're pretty sure means he liked it. "You're lucky you're so goddamn pretty."
"Hmm," he grins again, "Or what?"
"Or..." Roughly, you grab the waistband of his offending little panties and rip them down enough to expose him, the pretty pink tip dripping with precum. Taking his length in your hand, you stroke up and down, before continuing, "Or I wouldn't touch you like this..."
He whines at the way you handle him; he's so perfect, you know you can't resist him any longer.
Moving to straddle his hips, you grind your sex on his. This allows you to lean down and kiss him again, which he pulls you into hungrily. When you break away, you gaze into those lust blown mismatched eyes, "Or I wouldn't fuck you."
It's your turn to grin as you line him up with your entrance, and he becomes a writhing mess beneath you. Seconds later, however, the room is filled with gasps, sighs, moans as you finally become one.
With Terzo fully seated inside, you waste no time working your hips, easing you both into the motions of lovemaking. And what a picture you are: a tangle of limbs, lingerie, and stilettos.
His needy hands reach out to squeeze at your breasts, urging your bra straps off of your shoulders. Finally, you reach behind to unclasp the article of clothing and discard it. In an instant, your lover's hands return, cupping, massaging, and teasing your chest. The way his fingers roll your nipples already has them budding, but his mouth closing around one of them really does the trick.
With one hand cradling the back of his head and the other on his shoulder for support, you ride him at an energetic pace, gasping each time his teeth nibble at your sensitive skin.
"That's it..." he starts to whisper between love bites, "sì, principessa, oh, pl- per favore, take your pleasure from me."
Kissing the top of his head, you sigh into his ear, "Touch me... Touch me, please, Terzo!"
"Sì, signora," he obliges, his middle finger finding your clit easily, "Sei bella, così bella. Veini per me, cum on me, tesoro."
"I'm gonna..." You bite your lip, "Ahh, cum with me, baby."
Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, and it has you seeing stars. Feeling you clench around his cock, Terzo, blissed out, bites down on your collarbone as he follows you over the edge, spilling into your perfect velvety walls. Pain mixed with pleasure somehow heightens the sensation futher for you; it's nothing short of a miracle you were able to ride you both through your climaxes.
Terzo collapses straight back and you right on top of him, exhausted. His arms come up to wrap around you, gently tracing shapes into your back. When you give a tired groan, he offers, "Dai, we should get you upstairs, you stay the night with me."
"Upstairs? You live here?" you mumble into the crook of his neck.
"Sì, ragazza stupida," he chuckles, "I own this place."
"Hey!" you sit up and see him pointing at something... the name plate from the desk, thrown across the floor reading 'Terzo Emeritus.' Glaring back down at him, you argue, "Well, I'm not stupid, or whatever you said."
He smiles up at you, softly. "It means 'silly,' amore mio."
"Oh... Well still..." you lower your voice to a near whisper, "I would like to spend the night with you."
He reaches up to stroke your cheek, "Okie dokie, then. Let's get these heels off."
#ahhhhh i hope you love it ❤️#i have missed being able to post for everyone#but it's summer now so yay!!!#the band ghost#ghost band#papa emeritus iii#papa iii#terzo#papa 3#papa emeritus 3#papa terzo#ghost fanfiction#x reader#fem reader#burlesque#au#alternate universe#reader insert#thank you for the ask ❤️
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rough day | copia x reader
This is a ficlet for my dearest @leezlelatch ♡♡
(around 1.4k words of fluff, female declinations used, Ao3 link)
✦ ✧ ✦
Just opening the door to your quarters is an effort that feels overwhelming after the agonising day you had. Swamped with work, the stacks on your desk never visibly dwindled even after hours passed, the light in your office fading to the orange glow of sunset, then to the pale hues of the moon. Your energy had been spent long before you could even think about going home and now you’re drained, physically and mentally, so much so that your fingers slip from the doorknob multiple times, your arm falling weakly to your side.
You’re ready to just give up, to fall asleep right here and now. Frustrated to the point of tears you let your head fall against the wooden surface, the dull throbbing in your temples only growing and settling somewhere deeper in your skull – the first signs of an unsurprising headache caused by staring at screens and papers inside your stuffy office all day.
Suddenly the door opens and your crutch is roughly taken away from you.
“I thought I heard– Amore!”
You practically fall against Copia who struggles to catch you in time, letting out a surprised mamma mia. His arms wrap around you protectively, firm hands pressing into your back, one of his knees pushing your body upward so you’re not sliding to the floor like a sack of potatoes. One of his legs hooks around yours to keep you upright and you curl against him like a shrimp, a snug, slightly awkward fit. You vaguely notice that he’s wearing an apron, the rough fabric at your nose smelling of fried onions and herbs. Your stomach gives a painful rumble, reminding you that you haven’t eaten anything substantial in hours – not since devouring the sandwich Copia had packed you for lunch in the two minute break you had allowed yourself around noon. Have a good day, amore, he’d written on the post-it note he always left in your lunch box. It was almost ironic, reading it on the brink of a nervous breakdown with tears in your eyes.
“Oh, povera topolina.” He makes a cooing sound, softly swaying from left to right. “Looks like you had a rough day, eh?”
“Hmm,” is the only sound you manage to produce, feeling the tears burning in your eyes for what must be the tenth time today. The tension won’t fully leave your body, not even here in his arms.
“Let your Papa take care of you, amore mio,” Copia whispers, his hands moving over your back in broad, comforting strokes. “I have food on the stove. Papa Secondo made fresh pasta today, too much for his own use, eh? I will cook some linguine for you, I already made your favorite sauce. Do you want to take a bath?”
“Think I’ll just shower,” you mumble, fearing you’ll just fall asleep in the bathtub once the exhaustion fully washes over you.
“Sì, sì, of course. I will turn on the water for you so it’s hot when you’re ready. Can you stand, tesoro?”
Reluctantly you allow him to untangle your limbs and when your tired bones lose their support, your body feels heavy and useless. Copia presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, allowing you to adjust to standing on your own again. But he never fully lets you go anyway, just helps you to the bathroom where he promptly turns on the water. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, deft fingers opening buttons, zippers, the hooks of your bra.
“You don’t need to–“
“But I want to, cara mia.” He chuckles to himself, a high-pitched hehe. “I’m your rock, baby.”
You can’t help but smile, feel the love for him starting to outweigh your anguish as that familiar warm feeling in your chest starts to blossom. Copia lets some of the hot water run over his hand to check the temperature, wriggling his fingers before shaking off the wetness, a few of the warm droplets hitting your bare skin.
“Perfetto. Can you do it alone or do you want my help, amore? I can wash your hair or–”
“I think I’ll just wash it tomorrow,” you interrupt. “Just a quick rinse and then bed.”
“Mhm. Whatever my amore needs tonight.” Copia presses a lingering kiss to your temple, to your cheek and then to your lips, his hand grazing the curve of your hip before he guides you under the water – not without a gentle smack on your butt. “I will finish dinner, sì? We can eat in bed if you want. You pick the movie you want to fall asleep to.”
“Are you sure–“
“I am sure. You let your Papa do his thing now, no more questions.”
His expression is stern in his genuine concern for you and you muster a reassuring smile, more for his comfort than for your own. As he exits the bathroom, you can hear him humming softly to himself until he's too far away and the water drowns him out.
Ten minutes later you step back into your living quarters, only to immediately be caught by Copia. He leads you to the bed you’ve been missing all day where he built a small nest with your favorite fuzzy blankets and a handful of soft pillows. Before you can comment he sits you down at the edge of the mattress to help you into a fresh pair of pyjamas, carefully pulling your limbs through the designated holes in the garments. He stamps two soft kisses on each of your wrists, lips lingering for a few precious seconds before he helps you settle into the sheets, only to leave for the kitchen again.
Your achy muscles finally dare to relax, surrounded by the cloud-like comfort of soft fabric on freshly washed skin, the smell of laundry detergent and lavender pillow mist surrounding you completely.
Copia reappears with two bowls right as you’re about to fall asleep, wearing his own pyjamas now, the steam of fresh food wafting over his arms as he hurries over to you like he’s walking on hot coals.
“Ow, quick it’s burning my hand,” he says and you scramble to help him before he can spill the vivid red pasta sauce onto the white sheets.
“That was so fast,” you comment, taking in the beautiful sight of Secondo’s fresh pasta, so neatly cut into linguine, cooked by your doting boyfriend. He’s been honing his culinary skills for the past months with all the loving devotion he felt towards you, promising to cook for you as often as his own busy schedule allowed. The smell of fresh basil and tomato tickles your nose and another rumble tells you that your hunger is still stronger than the need for sleep.
“Fresh pasta is quick, only takes a few minutes,” Copia says. “Now, you eat and get your energy back, amore. Buon appetito!”
You eat a first forkful as the love of your life settles into the sheets next to you and not only the taste of the flavourful pasta but the sheer comfort of a homemade meal fills your whole existence with love and gratitude. The feeling is overwhelming, a desperately needed relief, a warm ray of sunshine piercing the shadowy clouds you’ve been carrying all day. As you finish your pasta you feel another wave of tears overcome you.
“No lacrime, amore,” Copia says, grabbing your empty bowls to set them aside. “Or I have to kiss them away and you know how that tickles.”
You smile. “Maybe I want to be tickled. You’re so good at that, my love.”
Smiling, Copia pulls you close to him so you’re on eye level, wrapped up in the fuzziness of your blanket and each others warmth. You’re still tired but the feeling has lost its painful edge. You take in the sight of your handsome Papa, his tousled hair, his bare features with a few remaining traces of clumsily removed make-up here and there. Lifting one hand, you trace the lines on his face all the way down to his neck. He sighs, leaning into your gentle touch.
“You have pasta sauce on your shirt,” you mumble, eyes following the trail of tiny red dots on his chest to a slightly bigger stain.
Copia looks down at himself, using his finger to wipe the excess sauce away before he smears it onto the tip of your nose. “Oh, look, you have pasta sauce on your nose! One more reason to kiss your beautiful face, topolina.”
And he does. His lips caress every inch of skin they can reach, kissing away tears and sauce and all of your worries, only stopping when he feels your eyes closing. Your lashes tickle his lips as the echo of your giggles slowly fades out and you finally slip into a peaceful slumber.
#i hope it can cheer you up <3#the band ghost#the band ghost fanfiction#copia x reader#papa emeritus iv x reader#papa emeritus iv#papa emeritus iv fanfiction#cardinal copia x reader#cardinal copia fanfiction#ghost drabble#ghost fanfiction
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Starving (TerzoxReader)
Summary: This picture does shit to me, that’s all that needs said. @lacquerheadd
Terzo x Reader || Papa Emeritus III x Reader || Established Relationship || NSFW || Oral Sex || Poorly Translated Italian || Pregnancy Kink || Pregnancy Sex || Squirting || WC: 1358
He's trying to set a personal record. You're so far out of your mind in pleasure to notice the firm face of concentration and glee as he jackknives his fingers into your sopping and quivering pussy. Three times now, he marks, as your walls clench around his digits as he curls and drags them against that raised and bumpy gland inside you. The way you screamed almost made it sound painful. The way you shook as though hit with a chill. He stares in awe as your tense body starts to relax from your climax and before you can go slack, he starts again, winding you back up, watching you tense all over again. He's so hard it's painful but he can wait.
You're sobbing, curling in the bed in pleasure, and whining as you pry at the mount of pillows keeping your body supported upright. You haven't said the word you laid out so it's just for show. You don't mean it.
You're beautiful with your face beat red. Your brows pinched in frustration. Your eyes closed in pleasure. Gummy tears of over sensitivity run down your cheeks and he wants to kiss them away.
He wants you to come again.
You're so far along now that you've been complaining of back aches, your stomach stretched bulbous with his first child. Your breasts are swollen with milk and two sizes larger than normal.
You had made a small off handed comment of how ugly you felt and he was stunned, like you had no idea what you were doing to him. Surely you had noticed.
It does something to him. Seeing you so far along. Stuffed with his child and nearly ready to burst. You glow in a way he's never seen you before. You're skin looks softer. Your lips look rounder. Your smiles light up like stars. He's over the moon for you. He's looking for any chance and excuse to get away from his duties and to you.
He feels like a bull behind a gate in one of those American rodeos. He gets caught in the flash and glitter of your pregnant form and can't keep his eyes away. He can't get enough of you. He's starved for it.
The fast fucking of his fingers don't stop even as you call his name. His tongue wags back and forth and slides along your folds, the peircing on his tongue flicking your cunt, lips rough and sucking relentlessly at your clit as he's all too happy to make a mess between your legs.
This has been going for maybe thirty minutes now. He's betting he can keep it going for an hour before he finally caves and stuffs you with cock.
When his jaw gets sore and his tongue gets tired, he slicks up his thumb with your juices and assaults that engorged bundle of nerves between your folds, his fingers never slowing. He shoves them up inside you as you twitch and jerk, your legs having fallen from staying open, feeling so weak and overestimulated. You crack open your eyes to look down at him with disbelief.
He licks his shiny lips and sticks out his red tongue to give a little wiggle, lewdly curling it. You give him a jerky nod in permittance and lift one of your tired and shaking knees open, silently asking for more, one more.
He's not going to stop at one more if he can help it.
He grunts like someone about to eat his favorite dessert and shoves his face back between your legs with gusto. He points his tongue and replaces his thumb to flick and press against your clit in a merciless assault. Your leg jerks and his free hand goes to hold you behind your knee to help you keep it up.
Coupled with the urgent thrusts of his three thick fingers, more dexterous than his cock and his tongue relentlessly attacking your clit, you start to feel a different kind of sensation.
It starts from the tip of your head, slither down your spine like a snake and curls in your gut.
He still doesn't stop at your sudden insisting. Your shoving fingers turn to curl in his hair.
He loves it when you scream his name in pleasure. There's no better sound like it.
This feeling runs lightning through you. It fires through every nerve and swallows you like a deep ocean during a storm. It's the best orgasm of your life but the sound of fluids gushing, making your thighs wet, causes a different kind of tears to spring from your eyes.
Pure mortification.
Admits this Terzo continues to pull on your clit. He rolls his piercing against it once then replaces his tongue to cover and seal his mouth around you, treating it like his favorite piece of hardcandy and sucks hard enough to get stars to dance behind your eyes.
But the wet squelch of his fingers makes you cry for real now, even though it doesn't stop feeling amazing. Self-consciousness and mood swings rear its ugly head and you sob.
Terzo is off you in a second with wide eyes, sucking the fluid off his lower lips before he comes up to brush your cheek with one clammy hand.
"Principessa, why are you crying?"
You can seem to say the words and how could you? Looking over at the moisture that caused his white shirt to darken just makes you feel even more ashamed.
His eyes go wide as it suddenly dawns on him what could be the problem and he removes his fingers urgently.
"Was that your water?! Are you-?"
Your shoulders shake and you shake your head in denial. He instantly let out a breath as the real root of the problem finally left your mouth.
"Y-You're not mad?" You croaked in question.
It takes him an embarrassing amount of seconds for him to understand what you were asking but when the clock rings a wolfish smile stretches on his face.
"No, I'm not mad! There's nothing to be embarrassed about." He enthusiastically comes up to kiss you, and it's so infectious that you find yourself smiling, still red in the face in shyness and shock.
"In fact, as a man, I just earned a gold medal." He says cock sure and kisses downwards to nibble at your neck, sucking at marks he had already made before. He then groans as his hard dick brushes up between your legs and gives a small rock to grind against you.
"Cazzo, shit! Do you have any idea how hot that was? You're so sexy when you're like this." He growls as reaches to slide his hand along your swollen stomach.
You're still in shock from the experience and still a little embarrassed but for your lover to tell you that's it's alright, that it's something for him to take pride in, that's your sexy regardless. He likes it? You snort, your lips quirk upwards. Of course he likes it.
"This is the most embarrassing thing I've ever done." You state for the record and earn a weak raspberry blown against your skin, getting a giggle out of you.
"I don't know. I'm told you're willing to do some pretty embarrassing things to get a baby to stop crying." Terzo grins. He can't wait. A few more months.
He gets to meet his child and then he gets to get you pregnant again and then he gets to see you like this more. He eagerly lowers his boxers to let his dick spring up and slap his stomach. He then hums against your skin and kisses you on the mouth before giving you an almost villainous grin.
At this moment his canines look particularly sharp and pronounced. His eyes flash as though you had just given him his next greatest challenge and he leans forward to slide one of his hands over your swollen belly and gives your navel a kiss.
"Think I can get you to do it again?" You smile nervously at him as he reaches down to stroke his weeping cock.
"Why?" You ask trepidatiously.
"Because I wanna fuck you until you gush like this again all over my thighs."
#terzo x reader#terzo#papa emeritus#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus 3#reader insert#mdni#papa emeritus x reader#papa emeritus iii x reader#dee writes#@lacquerheadd#you see what you've done to me#take some responsibility#pregnancy kink#ghost band#ghost the band#the band ghost
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can you do a fluffy young!Terzoxreader? like- modern-day AU where Terzo and the reader are friends and live next to each other but have feelings. kids like mutual pinning. IDK sorry if this is too specific!
A/n: Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took so long, but before you read it, I have a couple of things to say. I have no idea how eight year olds act despite working at a children’s museum lmao. I also used the term Joyfriend instead of girlfriend for my enby/male followers, and if you have a problem with this please, keep it to yourself! :) Word count: 434. Estimated read time: 1m 35s. Pure childhood fluff!!
Young love ✨
You skip across your yard to go see your best friend Terzo, you had been best friends since first grade! He was from Italy, you thought it was the coolest thing ever! He had a really cute accent, though you would never tell him that. Your mind running a million miles a minute as you approach the door you knock on it lightly, waiting for someone open it.
Terzo heard a knock at the door and ran down stairs to open it, normally he wouldn’t open the door for strangers, but he knew it was his best friend! He was so excited to see you, he went to Italy for the summer to visit his father and missed you a lot! So when he opens the door, he immediately tackles you into a hug. Which you quickly reciprocate, happy to have your best friend back.
“Terzo I missed you so much, don’t leave me again!” You cry into his shoulder “I won’t sorella, I promise!” He giggles. You lean back and say “what does sorella mean?” with a funny look on your face. “Sister!” He says with a laugh. “Now let’s go play, last one to the back yard is a rotten egg!” He jumps up and runs to the back door. You chase after him as quickly as you can.
He obviously reaches the backyard first and says “I win!” in triumph, throwing his arms up in the air in victory. “No fair, you got a head start!” You fake pout. He walks over to you and hugs you while saying “I’m sorry, sorella! Can you ever forgive me?” He playfully exaggerates, while you hug him back. Trying to hide your blushing face.
“yes- tag your it!” You run as quickly as possible while giggling in revenge.
He stands there for a moment, trying to process what happened, before running after you. You two run around for what felt like forever- which in actuality was five minutes. But you two are eight years old, that’s close enough, right?
You accidentally get stuck in a corner trunk to get away from, and he takes his opportunity to tag you back. “I got you back!” He smiles, proud of himself. “Terzo, lunchtime! And tell your joyfriend they can join too” Terzo’s mother calls from the open kitchen window.
“They are not my joyfriend, Mamma!” He yells back, clearly embarrassed as evident by the blush on his face. He looks over to you and says “s-sorry about mia mamma.” “I-It’s okay, let’s go eat!” You say, blushing just as hard. “Terzo!” His mother yells “coming mamma!”
#ghost bc#the band ghost#ghost the band#papa emeritus#papa copia#sodo ghoul#dewdrop ghoul#ghost band x reader#ghost bc fanart#the strugge is real#terzo x reader#x you#x y/n#papa emeritus iii#papa 3#papa terzo
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For the three sentences fics, Primo and a FtM brother, 1930s au
Thank you love 🦋
You believed him when told you no one had ever looked in a tailored suit. Trailing his fingertip across the breadth of your lapel and adjusting your fedora. "This is how it was always meant to be mio bel fiore."
Notes:
mio bel fiore- my handsome flower.
#3 sentence fic#3 sentence ask#ghost#the band ghost#ghost fic#primo#papa i#papa emeritus i#primo x ftm reader#hope you like it#🦋 anon?
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some no paint Papa because
I love him I love his pouty lips I love his cute nose I love his thick hair I love his little wrinkles I love his little cleft chin I love his strong features I love that strong set of shoulders I love his eyes
and I'm pretty proud of how it turned out🤷♀️
(Also I promise there are fics coming I just don't know where I've left my motivation and my WIP list is looking at me very judgingly😭)
taglist: @random-bl-fan @sweatandwoe @lightbluuestars @papasmicstand @copias-girl
#ghost#papa emeritus#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghostbc#papa#papa iii x reader#papa emeritus iii#papa iii#terzo#papa 3#papa iv#papa nihil#papa emeritus iv#cardinal copia#cardinal#ghost fanart#ghost baseball art#ghost posts#ghost x you#ghost art#ghost band#papa copia#ghost the band#papa terzo#terzo emeritus#ghost terzo#the ghost band#terzo art#ghost band art
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New fic idea: flirting/mingling with & getting closer to [insert whichever papa is leading at the time of the fic] just to get close to his nameless ghouls, and a certain baphomet posing ghoul in particular
#ahhaha joking… but also…..#rain. Brainrot two days ago sodo Brainrot today. aether probs soon cirrus and cumulus always<3#danyl talks#ghost band stuff#ghost band x you#papa x reader#papa emeritus iii x reader#papa emeritus ii x reader#sorry I don’t have the heart to tag primo as that he’s my comfort grandpa#nameless ghouls x reader#sodo x reader#dewdrop x reader
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ahhHHHHHHHH-
#my art#terzo#omega ghoul#terzomega#omega3#terzo x omega#ghost#the band ghost#ghost band#ghost band fanart#HELP#digital art#manga#papa emeritus iii#the namesless ghouls#ghouls#can i say i feel like omega's real form would definitely be noticeably bigger#which is why you see such size differences between them. omega is big boy. <3#also yeah i went full on vintage comic for the second one it was funnn
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give him lots of headpats :0 he shy
#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost band#terzo#papa emeritus iii#papa terzo#papa iii#omega ghoul#omega#terzomega#terzo x omega#trying a new art style#i discovered that i can draw him in anything i want asdklfjd#and if thats cat ears and a collar and a virgin killer then you know what good#<3#my art
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hehe it’s Bishop Ilya and Terzo time ✨✨✨✨
kinda was going for the first morning after vibe but it works either way. Ilya isn’t very good at communicating his feelings so small things like this are really big for him to say. ig falling in love with your rival isn’t such a bad thing after all lmao
and without the text because i’m so happy with the rendering i will stare at it forever.
#i’ve decided to make terzo’s jewellery and toothgap a canon thing in my au because it’s so cute#ilya you pasty fuck get out of the sun you’ll die#i love them so much your honour#i would die for them#bishop ilya#bishop ilya x terzo#terzo#papa terzo#terzo emeritus#papa emeritus#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus lll#papa emeritus 3#the band ghost bc#the band ghost fanart#the band ghost oc#the band ghost art#ghost bc oc#ghost bc fanart#ghost bc art
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Stupid Love
Cardinal Terzo x Reader
Content tags: smut, MDNI, friends to lovers, lingerie, parties, mentions of alcohol, mentions of threesome, general whoring around~
Word Count: 6.8k
Hey Ghesties!!! Happy Ghalentine's Day! I have worked my ass off to get this out for you all today 🥰 I hope you enjoy it and I hope you were/are able to get the Ritual tickets you desire! 💅 Love you all ❤️
You stare up at your best friend, who hovers over you, leaning against wall, pinning you to the spot.
𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺! 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴...?
You had been effectively locked in a closet with the smug bastard. After that 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 bottle stopped spinning and landed on you, you'd been sentenced to Seven Minutes in Hell with the Cardinal.
"Sorella... Won't you let me kiss you? It's what everyone does during this game. We're supposed to makeout, sì?" your friend implores you.
"No, Terzo. You're- you're my friend."
"And? I makeout with all of my friends. Except you of course, seeing as how you won't let me."
"Yeah, well. You're a bit of a manwhore!"
"Hey!" he snorts at you, "I can be lady like when I want to be..." He cuts his eyes at you jokingly.
"Oh, like when you put on your stockings and garters to dress up for the ghouls? I'm sure they love making you their little rag doll," you return his teasing look. This is just how you banter with one another after all these years.
"Sì, they do," he winks and strokes your chin with his thumb, his body still pressing your back against the wall. He licks his lips, still waiting to kiss you. His features really look handsome in this low lighting: the black eyeliner painted around his eyes, strong cheek bones and jaw line, dimples, his black lip paint smudged from already kissing about 10 other people tonight. Okay, maybe that was exaggerated, but the man is passionate about being passionate.
Face only inches from yours, Terzo brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, one hand moving to fondle your waist.
"Terzo..." you whisper, unsure what to do, but unable to take your eyes off his lips. After a moment, you tilt your head back, and he closes the space between you, lightly touching his lips to yours. You didn't even think he was capable of a kiss so chaste.
Lightly, you move your lips against his, hands clutching his black wool cassock. His hand dips to the small of your back while the other cradles the back of your head, kissing you softly again and again.
Suddenly in that moment, your brain freezes. 𝘖𝘩 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘴! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥... 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦...
You pull away from him, looking at the floor then back up at the Cardinal. Just above a whisper, he calls your name. Your face contorts, flashing a series of emotions, before you push him off of you, barging out of the closet and running out of the party all together.
"Hey! Your time isn't up!" you hear some random Sibling of Sin shout after you.
𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥... 𝘏𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮...
• • •
That was years ago, but for some reason your silly brain decided to reminisce...
You're dragged out of your thoughts by a hand sneaking up on your hip. "What's got my little bird so distracted, hmm?"
Letting out a gasp, you nearly drop the papers you'd been clinging to, "Satanas, Terzo! You nearly gave me a heart attack." You turn to face him, sitting back on the edge of his desk.
"I told you I'd be right back... Besides, you haven't gotten used to my sneaking around by now, dolcezza?" His intense mismatched gaze always made you blush, but it's really working on you right now as you'd been caught thinking about him.
"I guess not..." you whisper, picking a small piece of lint from his cassock.
"Well, mi dispiace, tesoro. I'll try not to startle you again," the devious look on his face tells you otherwise. He steps aside to return to his office chair, and you stand up off his desk. "Now, we should get back to work," he smacks you on the ass, casually.
You whip around to look at him in disbelief, but all your frustration washes away when you see him snickering. His smile could get him out of anything, especially with you.
Luckily you were only filling in for his assistant for a few days while they were under the weather; you weren't sure how much of this you could take.
• • •
The next morning when he doesn't turn up to his office on time, you go to his chambers to look for him. Just as you were about to knock on the door, you hear a loud groan, followed by the sound of someone panting heavily. Gently, you press your ear to the door as the sound of Terzo's moans fill the air, "Ahh! Sorella!"
Your face beams a bright red, but the second hand embarrassment is quickly replaced by a pang of rage. Heels click the floor as you huff off, heading back to his office. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦...
A while later, as you scratch at a few papers, taking out your anger on your pen, the man of the hour saunters through the door. "Buongiorno, cara mia!" he chirps, having the audacity to come over to where you're whittling away at his work and pat your head.
"Please, don't touch me," you cut back coldly.
"Ayyyye, why such hostility, my darling?" He kneels in front of you, looking handsome as ever. Clearly he was freshly showered and painted... 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥.
"Because! Some of us have to keep this place up and running! I'm trying to help you look good for Papa Nihil, and- and you're out there screwing anything with a pulse!" you snap.
The smug bastard sits back on his haunches, laying his head against your knee and feigning his innocence as he looks up at you, "Not all of the ghouls have a pulse, Sorella..."
Your pen clacks to the floor as you pop him on the head, biretta falling to the floor.
"Ow!" he exaggerates.
"Terzo..." you whine, giving into your frustration, tears prickling at your eyes.
He sits back on the floor, reaching for the writing utensil and hat, and his face softens at the sight of you. "You are right, tesoro... I've been an ass, keeping you waiting. Mi dispiace." His words held a double meaning that was lost on you; he was well aware of the way you pined for one another... But you'd reacted so poorly the first time he'd kissed you. He didn't think he could take that pain again.
You sniffle, packing the feelings away. "It's okay. I know you have a lot of weight on your shoulders with preparing for the papacy. It's a long ways off, but in other ways, I know it feels like it'll be here tomorrow."
"Sì, sì..." He scrapes himself up off the floor, handing your pen back to you, "Well, let's get to work, sì? It's too much for one person to do." He gives you the best smile he can muster and cups your cheek before flopping down at his desk.
• • •
Him arriving so late to work led to an even later night, but he liked having you in the office, because you were often more dedicated than his own assistant. You pushed through all the paperwork and sorting and filing better than anyone else who had worked for him.
After getting your belly full on takeout, you curled up on the little couch in his office, papers in your lap that needed reading. But you'd been at it all day... So you just couldn't help your heavy eyelids as they drifted closed...
"Little bird, do you have- Little bird?" He was attempting to ask for some documents he needed, only to find you hunched over, eyes closed and breathing deeply. He yawns, standing up and stretching his limbs, "Sì, it is time for bed, isn't it?"
Walking over, he carefully removes the papers from your lap, scooping his arms under your relaxed body and strolling off down the halls of the Abbey with you.
The next morning your eyes flutter open, taking in a room that wasn't yours, but you were very familiar with it. You glance down to see you're still in your habit from yesterday and a pale arm with black painted fingernails draped around your waist. Hoping not to disturb his slumber, you delicately lace your fingers with your best friend's, and he makes a little grumbling sound, stroking your thumb with his before relaxing back into his pillow.
This wasn't by any means the first time you'd spent the night together... It has just become a bit more infrequent since he'd started occupying his nights with other people's bodies. You used to stay together every night after he lost his mother, holding him as he would cry himself to sleep, comforting him through the nightmares. And he'd done the same for you anytime something troubled you, from breaking up with some guy to arguments with friends. You were always there for one another, never waking up lonely if you didn't want to.
You couldn't blame him for seeking comfort in others. He's lived a hard life, and maybe you alone aren't enough for him anymore.
Suddenly, you hear a groan as Terzo begins to stir, urging you to flip over. You oblige him, turning to face his bare chest as he tangles his legs comfortably with yours. "Good morning, sleeping beauty," you reach up to sweep back his unruly bed head.
"Buongiorno..." He wraps his arm around your shoulders, cracking his eyes open just enough to look down at you.
"Please tell me you had the sheets changed since yesterday morning," you look up at him.
His deep morning voice chuckles, "Not to worry, amore... We fucked on the kitchen table."
"You're disgusting," you roll your eyes at him.
"Ahhh, you're just jealous!" He leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I'll fuck you too one day, then you'll understand."
You nuzzle into his chest, hoping he wouldn't see the blush that manifested itself at that remark.
After a few minutes, he pushes himself out of bed, saying some smartass comment about needing to be dutiful and that we can't fall asleep at work, before pushing his pants off, giving you an eyeful.
"Terzo! What the fuck!" you cover your face with your hands.
He lets out a hearty laugh, "It's not anything you haven't seen a hundred times before!" He calls out before you hear the bathroom door click shut and the shower turn on.
You groan into his pillow. ...𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥.
• • •
A few weeks had gone by, giving you time to settle back into your normal duties in the clergy offices and time to push the butterflies in your stomach out of your mind. Of course, you still see your best friend nearly every day, but at least you weren't feeling so flustered over him. You couldn't believe you still had such a silly crush after all these years...
Hearing the unmistakable loud click of high heels stepping down the marble halls of the ministry, you turn, expecting to greet Sister Imperator or perhaps another Sibling who'd decided to dress up that day. Surprisingly, you catch a glimpse of that familiar black cassock--he's in the velvet one today.
"Terzo," you slow down, letting him catch up to you, "are you wearing heels?"
"Aren't they cute?! I got them for the party tonight! You are coming, sì? Please tell me you're coming to the party, tesoro," he babbles like a school girl, showing off his new black leather high heeled booties, complete with a silver sword running down the stiletto.
"Yes, I'm coming to the party, Cardinal. You haven't shut up about it for days," you chuckle, checking out his shoes, "Those are so you! They look great, my dear."
"Bene! Bene!" He drops his voice lower, taking your hand, "I'm so happy you like them."
"Well it wouldn't even matter if I didn't. What matters is if 𝘺𝘰𝘶 like them and feel confident in them. Of course, you feel confident in just about anything," you joke with him, "even your birthday suit!"
"Mi scusi, I think you mean 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 my birthday suit, cara mia..." Giggling, he bites his lip and watches you intently, taking in your blissful expression. To him, making you smile is one of the greatest feelings.
• • •
That night, the party really was lively. What had started as a simple kick back had turned into half the abbey showing up with snacks and bottles. Even the new Cardinal... Copia, you think you heard was his name, had shown up.
Pretty much everyone had been invited except Sister Imperator, Nihil, and the Papas. Terzo loved his brothers, but he also loved attention, and especially when Secondo, the reigning Papa, showed up, everyone got outshined.
Of course, the host showed up fashionably late. This time, though, he was actually coming straight from his office, still donning his velvet cassock for the occasion, although you guess he'd left the biretta behind. He had been working as dutifully as he was capable of since you set him straight a few weeks ago.
The room lights up with people wanting to talk to him; he was like a celebrity, and you just knew he would be a natural at being Papa one day.
"Oh, come here! Follow me. You have to meet my best friend, you'll simply 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 her," Terzo's voice comes from the crowd as he wiggles out, a Brother of Sin in tow. From your comfy spot on one of the couches, you make quick work of putting down your bag of chips and smoothing down your hair, as the two men approach you.
The Cardinal excitedly pushes the stranger onto the couch next to you, briefly introduces you to one another, and makes his exit, but not before pressing a kiss to your knuckles and giving you the wink that means you're supposed to at least 𝘵𝘳𝘺 to like this one.
The guy follows in Terzo's footsteps, also taking your hand, but instead pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "It's nice to meet you, Sorella. It's a pleasure getting to know someone so close to Cardinal Terzo," he starts.
He seems nice enough, and definitely handsome with his warm eyes and stubble growing out.
"Nice to meet you," you return.
And after just a little while, he had his arm around your shoulders as you leaned against him, sharing your bag of chips and chatting about the party. Apparently you both liked to people watch, plus he was new here, so you were kind of giving him the run down on everyone.
"Oh, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 Jess? I think I've been getting her and Jen mixed up." You both share a laugh. It didn't help that the two girls looked alike on top of having similar names.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spot your friend already in a heated make out session with a ghoul AND a Brother of Sin. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.
As you watch his tongue dip between the ghoul's lips, you feel a heat stir between your legs, and you actively try to ignore the scene playing out and go back to telling your 'date' all the Abbey gossip.
But hardly anyone can look away when Terzo moves to straddle the Brother next to him, ghoul still attached to his neck. This wasn't out of the ordinary for a ministry party, but normally everyone was a little more drunk first.
Suddenly Terzo lets out a loud moan, and the Brother sets to work on the buttons of his cassock, exposing the Cardinal's pale shoulders.
"Wow, he's really into serving his followers, eh?" the man next to you chuckles.
You glance over at him then back at your friend, "Yeah," you choke out a giggle, "yeah, he is."
He seems satisfied with that answer as you both lean back on the arm of the couch, and you press your cheek against his chest so he wouldn't be able to see the blush forming rapidly.
Eyes drifting back to Terzo, he lifts himself off of the ghoul and the Brother of Sin, letting his cassock hit the floor, revealing little underneath. Even though you'd seen him naked before, somehow it felt more intimate seeing his bare ass framed only by a thin thong and thigh high stockings.
Cardinal Copia catches your attention for a moment, and you're both an equally deep shade of red, watching as Terzo takes his lovers' hands and exits the room.
• • •
"Sooo... Tell me all the little details, cara mia!" Terzo prompts you, laid out across from you on his bed in a tight pair of capri leggings and a little Playboy crop top, looking like a yoga mom or something. He'd invited you over for a sleepover, saying that he really missed the old days where you would stay up all night painting each other's nails, watching movies, and binging junk food.
"Details of what?" you question him. You lounge in one of the T-shirts that you'd 'stolen' from him years ago and a pair of pajama shorts.
"You knoooowww, amore. Your little date at the party... How was he?"
"Oh, well, you had to be there..." you fake your dreamiest voice, fluttering your eyelids and placing a hand over your heart. "You wouldn't know since you cut out of your own party less than an hour after it started," you tell him honestly.
"Ah! Well, mi dispiace, but I don't care what happened 𝘢𝘵 the party. I want to know what happened... after," he winks at you.
"Oh, so you're wanting to know about the steamy sex we had, breaking in his new Sibling quarters?"
Terzo nods his head, which is propped up on his head as he steals the bag of marshmallows from between you.
"Hey!" You grab the marshmallows to put them back where you can both reach them, after a fit of giggles, you settle back into your juicy story, "Well, we went back to his room, and I got on my knees..."
Your best friend's eyes go wide.
"...and he joined me for a goodnight prayer to Satan. What did you expect, Terzo? Of course I didn't sleep with him."
"You bitch! Leading me on," he laughs and reaches across the bed to pop the side of your ass.
"You like it," you wink at him.
"Well, why didn't you sleep with him? Did you see that jaw of his?! I would've taken him myself, tesoro, but I thought he might like you more."
"Because, I just... I wasn't in the headspace for it," you explain, the mood shifting slightly.
"Not in the headspace? Why, amore?" He brushes a strand of hair back behind your ear.
"I- I don't know," you stammer, not really wanting to admit to him why you couldn't sleep with that other guy. But Terzo pulls the move that always works on you, swiping all of your snacks and fingernail polish bottles out of the way and pulling you close for a big hug. It gets you to spill every time. "I guess... I guess, I was just distracted."
"I hope it was a good distraction, sì?" He kisses the top of your head.
"I- Sort of. I don't think anyone could stop thinking your grand exit the other night."
"Amore... You didn't fuck him because of my lingerie? If anything, this should've been inspiration for you," he giggles again, that devious playful look in his two-toned eyes.
"You don't get it, do you?"
A serious look settles on his face, and for once, he's silent.
"I hate seeing you throw yourself at everyone else to ignore the way you're hurting. And I hate that that it's anyone else; literally, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 else except me!"
He looks stunned, a pink shade coming to his nose and lashline as tears threaten him. "You... You didn't even like it when I kissed you, I didn't think you would want that from me," he says quietly.
"Didn't like it? Terzo, I- I loved it."
"But, you ran away." The memory of that night had apparently lived fresh on both of your minds for some time now. "You ran away and we never spoke of it again... What was I supposed to think, cara?"
"I thought you were just doing it for fun... But then I realized you would never like me back."
"Amore... I 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. Ti amo così tanto. Perhaps it's not the best strategy, but that's why I sleep with everyone in this place: to get la mia mente (my mind) off of you, little bird, the thing I could never have."
"You love me?" is the only response you can muster.
"Sì, certo che lo faccio. (Yes, of course I do.) I call you 'amore mio' after all."
Years of him longing for you hits you like a ton of bricks. All the late nights, the hand holding, the pet names... And he'd been too afraid to take it further because of the way you reacted over that stupid Seven Minutes in Hell game. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥!
He holds you close to him, tucking your head under his chin and fingers tangled in your hair. You both sit like that for a long time.
"Terzo?" you break the silence.
"Hm?" He pulls back, looking down at you with a sincere look of adoration in his eyes.
"Will you kiss me?"
"You're not going to run away this time, sì?"
"I won't. I promise," you look up but only get a glance at him before his lips are on yours, passionately telling you how he's yearned for this. It only takes your lips parting a little bit before his tongue slips between them, asking permission. Of course you allow it, your tongue dancing with his.
Although you both had plenty of experience, making out with one another made you both feel like teenagers again, right back to when you were locked in that closet, like no time had passed.
Terzo rolls you onto your back, hovering above you and gaining better access to you, your mouth, your body. His fingers grasp at your sides, feeling your ribcage expand and contract with your heavy breathing. Your hands slip under his loose little crop top and digits appreciate the patch of hair on his chest.
When he pulls away from your mouth, you let out a breathless, "I love you..."
"Sì, anch'io ti amo, little bird."
Although you stayed up for hours kissing and hands roaming one another's bodies, sleeping next to him felt exactly the way it always did. So while you explored the new territory of being in love with your best friend, you found comfort in knowing some things would never change.
• • •
You wake the next morning at your usual time, much easier than your lover does. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺...
He squirms around, eyebrows furrowing when you slip out of his arms and out of bed. Not wanting to wake him but not wanting him to be entirely alone when he does, you opt to use his shower instead of heading back to your dorm.
Soap bubbles glide down your body as you lather yourself up, absentmindedly washing your arms, shoulders, breasts. Unexpectedly, you hear the shower door pop open, "Terz- mmm..." Your best friend had snuck into the bathroom without you noticing and catches you in a passionate kiss as you had turned to look over your shoulder.
Before you could protest, and not that you would, he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing his chest to your back. He had already shed all his clothes in preparation for his sneak attack.
"Cara..." He brushes your sopping wet hair out of the way and begins marking your neck with love bites. "You look così bella like this, dolce mia."
You melt under his expert touch, heat already pooling at your core at the sensation of his fingers roughly grabbing your hips and rocking you back against his aching shaft. "Terzo," you whine for him, "please..."
Ceasing his movements, he puts just enough space between you, "Too much, tesoro? I don't mean to rush you." It's endearing the way he's still scared of running you off.
"No," you grab his hands, wrapping his arms back around your waist, "not enough." Turning around, you catch him in another fierce kiss, lips sliding together easily under the gentle spray of the showerhead. Gripping your lover by the nape of his neck, you pull him towards you as you lean back against the glass shower wall, and he responds by hooking your knee on his hip.
Terzo moans into your mouth as his hard length presses against your pelvic bone. Gliding a hand between your bodies, you caress it, digits slipping easily over his sensitive tip. Another wanton sound escapes his throat at your ministrations.
"Is that what you sound like in the ghouls' den?" you jab at the man before you.
"No, cara," a blush actually forms on his cheeks for once, "they don't get me worked up so easily," he chuckles.
"Ahhh, I see. So you are still a hopeless romantic deep down, huh?"
"And you are not?" he cuts back playfully before nuzzling his nose to yours. His eyes linger on yours before travelling down your body, taking in your collarbones and your breasts. "Bellissima, amore mio..." His hands cup your chest, thumbs teasing your nipples while he bends down to suck one between his teeth.
You always thought you'd be incredibly nervous if things ever got to this place with Terzo, but in fact, you find your resolve has worn very thin as your need grows to a place where it can't be ignored anymore. "Terzo!" you gasp as his wicked tongue circles your areola. "Satanas, will you fuck me already?!"
With a devious look in his eye, he stands up straight and banters, "I thought you'd never ask, cara mia." Abruptly, he hikes your knee up again and kisses you, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you feel his tip line up with your entrance. It has your head spinning how quicky he works.
Gently, he bucks his hips up into you, breaking the kiss to whisper in your ear, "Let me know if I need to stop, I don't want to hurt you." He's well aware of the fact that he didn't get to warm you up as he would've liked, but he couldn't wait any longer to have you.
"Okay," you breathe out, one hand snaked around his neck for support, the other digging little red lines into his back as he carefully fills you.
With one arm hooked under that leg, his other travels down to please your most sensitive spot, talented fingers circling it with ease. The sensation immediately helps you relax as he pushes in to the hilt, "Ah, cara," he pants, eyes screwed shut, "Così bene... Ti senti così bene." Sweetly, he kisses at your neck and cheek, allowing you some time to adjust.
When you groan for him to move again, he doesn't keep you waiting. Hell, he could hardly control himself. Meeting you with a sinful pace, he fucks up into your tight wet heat, unable to quell the noises coming from himself. Perhaps in an effort to muffle said noises, he kisses you again, tongue meeting with yours.
Feeling his body weight press you against the shower wall, you feel your other foot being lifted from the ground, and Terzo hooks his arms under your thighs as he bounces you on his length. Your fingers grip in his hair and thighs clench around his waist for support. "T-Terz-zo... mmm, Satanas, baby, it feels... s-so good!" you cry out.
His head lolls back as he continues to move in and out of you, moaning rhythmically into the air. "Goddammit, little bird... I need more." Without warning, he pulls out of you, causing you to whimper at the loss. Carefully, he lowers your legs, making sure you're able to stand, but the second you have purchase, he whirls you around and presses you against the wall again, your breasts squeezed tightly against the cool glass.
Anticipation gets the best of you, and you arch your back, pushing your ass needily against him.
Lining himself up once again, Terzo pushes in deep in one swift motion, resuming his pace from earlier, and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the echoey bathroom. "Ah! Dolcezza..." he calls out, gripping your hips so tightly that they might bruise. "You have no idea how long I've waited to feel you like this... La figa di nessuno è paragonabile alla tua." (No one's pussy compares to yours.)
His words make you impossibly wetter and unable to form a response, so you slide your fingers between your legs to relieve some of the tension.
Pushing your hand out of the way, he replaces it with his own, wanting all of your pleasure to come at his own discretion. His other arm snakes around your torso, holding you flush against him, as his fingers knead your bosom. "Amore mio... ti amo, mi piace sentirti così vicino a me... insieme come uno solo." (My love... I love you, I love feeling you so close to me... Together as one.)
Arching your back just a bit more turns out to be the perfect angle as he pounds right into that perfect sensitive spot inside you. You cry out his name, the sensations from his hands and his cock pushing you dangerously close to the edge of pleasure. "Terzo, please, I'm- I'm close..."
"Sì, anch'io, amore. Vieni per me... vieni sul mio cazzo..." (Yes, me too, love. Cum for me... Cum on my cock...) he grunts in between snaps of his hips. A few more flicks of his wrist and your orgasm crashes over you, and your legs are hardly able to hold you up as your muscles convulse around your lover's girth.
Revelling in the sounds he's earned from you, Terzo's hips begin to buck unevenly as his cock kicks and his seed spills deep inside you. "Ah, aaah... Tesoro, ti amo," he leans his forehead against your shoulder, kissing it, hips still riding you both through your release.
"I love you, too, sweetheart," you practically whine as you start coming down from your high, fingers lacing with Terzo's as he hugs you tightly.
Slipping out of your warmth, your lover turns you to face him once again, walking you back under the sprinkling shower. His eyes lovingly check you over, making sure your body wasn't too beaten up... That would come later, and he smirks at the thought.
"I'm surprised there's still hot water," you giggle, absentmindedly playing with his chest hair.
"Ah, Sorella, don't you know the papal suites have a tankless water heater?" he tries to be suave.
But it fails when you both burst out in laughter! "What the hell do you know about a tankless water heater, il mio 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘰 ragazzo?!"
He can't help but grin anytime you use Italian; he makes a mental note to coax you into using it more.
• • •
"Terzo? What in the world is all this commotion?" You slip into the familiar chambers that you basically share now after months of dating your best friend. Familiar save for the scores of Siblings everywhere! And you could tell this was no party; everyone is dressed in formal habits and buzzing around on a mission. Various fabrics are draped across the couch, a rainbow of colors strewn everywhere. Even a few Siblings working diligently on sanitizing, organizing, and packing up a huge makeup kit.
Nerves are starting to get the best of you as you take in all the people in what had been the cozy space shared between you and your Cardinal.
"Terz?" you call out again, before a hand grips your shoulder. Both you and the new Cardinal jump upon making eye contact. 𝘎𝘰𝘴𝘩, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘫𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺. "Copia?! Where is Terzo?"
"Uh, he's- just in il bagno there," he points.
You pause for a moment, debating if you should ask him what's going on, but decided you wanted to hear it from your lover. "Thank you," you pat his shoulder before pushing through the dense crowd in Terzo's bedroom to make it to the bathroom where the Cardinal had pointed.
Stopping in the doorway, you see your lover stood up on a stool, white and gold mitre on his head with the ribbons hanging over his shoulder blades. He's wearing solid black papal robes with a stylist draping purple and gold satin fabrics over his arms and chest, pinning things in place. Sister Imperator is there, looking at him in the mirror, discussing patterns and placements of various motifs and materials.
It feels like you're in a dream.
As he turns to the side, you see the stark black and white paint etched across his cheek and temple. Seemingly unable to speak, you simply reach a hand out and wave lightly. It catches the man's attention and he turns to face you.
"Amore! What do you think?!" Terzo excitedly steps off the stool and rushes over to you despite the stylist and Imperator trying to stop him. He takes your hands in his new black leather gloves adorned with golden pointed fingernails, and you look him over. "Ovviamente, it's not finished..." his words trail off.
You gawk at him with the mitre on, even if it was just white with little ribbon swatches pinned to it. Not to mention his new look... It would certainly take some getting used to not being able to adore his handsome cheekbones and dimples. The only words that come out of your mouth are, "What's going on here?" and it comes barely above a whisper.
From years of reading your facial expressions, your best friend can tell how overwhelmed you are. "Mio fratello announced his retirement," Terzo sighs, giving you a half smile. "Mi dispiace, amore, I wish I could've told you, instead of you coming home to all this. It must be a lot."
"No. No! Well, I mean... 𝘺𝘦𝘴, it was a bit much to walk into all this. But we knew this was coming eventually! I'm sorry, I just..." you explanation trails off. "You look so different, my love. Good different. Like a real Papa," you smile up at him, excitement beginning to bubble up. You run your hands over his chest, giving him a quick peck on the lips, "Now, go get back over there and let them finish making Papa up. I'll be here when you're done." With a wink and a subtle pinch of his ass through the robe, he giggles and leaves you there in the doorway.
Knowing him for so many years, you just knew he was blushing under that paint; he was so excited to be Papa finally, and proud that you approve of his new look.
• • •
"Ah! Oh! Papa!!! Papaaaahhhhhh!!!!"
The sounds of you reaching pure bliss resonate from Terzo's bedroom with him immediately following you. Smudges of black, white, and gray paints besmirch your body, from your neck to your shoulders down to your thighs as you collapse onto your lover's satin sheets.
But he doesn't let you far from him, no; in an instant, he's at your side, caressing your cheek and making sure your are thoroughly pleased with the evening spent with him. Of course, you are.
"I must admit, cara mia... I could get used to you calling me Papa this way." He kisses your nose, leaving another smudge.
"Soon everyone will be calling you Papa," you smile at him. You're so honored to share the first of his reign with him, even if he hasn't been officially crowned yet.
"Ayyyye, but not the way you call out my name, singing my praises until it bounces off these walls! No. No one else will call for their Papa the same way you do, amore mio." His intense gaze has you blushing just as it always does, yet somehow he's now more... confident.
𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘮𝘦, you roll your eyes at the thought of him being more cocksure than he already is.
"Mmm, what is that, huh?" he grins at you.
"What is what?" you play dumb.
"𝘖𝘩!" he perches his chin on his hand, exaggeratively tilting head head and rolling his eyes.
"Are you mocking me?!" you giggle, swatting his arm from under his chin.
He doesn't respond, allowing his eyes to drink in your perfect form, silhouetted next to him. Softly, his fingers trace gentle shapes up and down your side, "Amore?"
"Hm?" you perk up, noticing the soft tone he's taken with you. With his new papal paint, the nervousness on his face nearly goes missed, but you're an expert at reading the man in front of you.
He fidgets for a second before pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "I want to apologize for today, once again. That shouldn't have been how you found out about-"
"Terzo, honey, it's okay." Stroking his chest, you attempt to soothe him. "I'm so happy for you. I know you must've been overwhelmed too."
"Sì," he breathes out the admission, "there were many people, even for me."
"Yes, well they were in your space--a private space. I have no doubt you'll handle a crowd well outside of this room."
"Amore, you are so supportive of me. This is why I need you by my side." He wraps his arms around you; little do you know, he inconspicuously fishes for something beneath his pillow.
"I'm right here. Always," you promise him.
"Sì, which is why I have a question for you." His arms unfurl from around your lying form to reveal a small black leather bound box in his hand. "Today was a little... out of my control. I didn't get to tell you about mio fratello the way I wanted. Other commands will surely come down the line molto presto, so..." he bites his lip, eyes tinging red as he focuses on you, only you. "So, amore, I need you to know this question comes from me, only me, not anyone else."
Your bottom lip quivers with anticipation as Terzo pops up the vintage clasp on the little box, opening it to unveil a stunning platinum diamond ring, clearly an age old. Letting out a little gasp, your fingers cover your mouth as you glance back and forth between your lover and the piece of jewelry, tears already flooding your eyes and threatening to spill.
"Little bird, will you marry me? There's not another soul I could ever picture spending my life with." He says it plainly, trying to fight back tears of his own.
Letting out the breath you were holding, your composure cracks a bit, "Oh, Terz..." Really, you weren't expecting anything like this, and about a million thoughts swirl around your head. Taking a deep breath to call your mind, "Yes. Yes, of course, I'll marry you." You pull him close to your body, sheets tangling around you both, "I love you so much, Terzo."
Kissing each other desperately, happy tears stain both of your cheeks, only further smudging his paint.
"Ti amo, tesoro. Sei la mia vita..." (I love you, darling. You are my life...)
Finally when he pulls away from adorning you with kisses, he takes the ring from the box and slides it on your finger. "Mine."
You trail a single finger down his sternum, stopping at the base, "𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦."
He chuckles at you copying him, and he holds you against him, admiring the the way your eyes light up for him.
"So when did you get time to sneak off and buy this?" You wiggle the fingers on your left hand at him.
"I didn't," he smiles smugly as you wait for an answer. "Mia madre gave it to me when we were young; it belonged to mia nonna. Mamma never got to wear it because Nihil wouldn't marry her, so she gave it to me. And I think she always suspected you would end up with it."
"Terzo... I never knew you had this." The tears are welling up once again at the thought of being given something passed down through his family.
"Well, that would've ruined the surprise, no?"
"Stupido! You know what I mean," you smack his chest playfully, sending you both into a giggling fit.
In this moment, the soon-to-be antipope feels like he has everything he could ever need: the position he'd worked towards his whole life finally in reach, and his best friend right by his side. He's had a lot of reasons to be sad, angry at the world, maybe even a bit immature, but he has a good feeling all of that is behind him now as he sees his future laid out in front of him, draped in his own satin purple sheets with a pretty little ring on her finger.
#ahhhhh!#i am so tired#i hope you like it more than i did when i was proofreading it 😂😭#i hope it makes your valentine's day special#or a lil brighter#i love you all ❤️#ghesties#the band ghost#ghost band#papa emeritus iii#papa iii#terzo#papa 3#papa emeritus 3#fic#fanfic#imagine#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#MDNI
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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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