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writingjourney · 2 months

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Of Lemon Tarts and Tiny White Rabbits

Secondo, Earl of Griftwood, cannot believe his eyes when a tiny white rabbit scampers into his study. He is stunned even more when he meets the lovely owner of the pet – and promptly falls in love.

pairing: secondo x female!reader // regency AU

content: 4.6k words, regency AU (not 100% historically accurate but I tried), pov third person, forbidden romance, age gap, first kisses, social hierarchies, mildly suggestive at times, soft!secondo, pining and yearning etc., wingman terzo

This is a birthday present for the lovely @tasty-ribz , also special thanks to @angellayercake for encouraging me to bring Snowbell into this story ✨🐰

Masterlist – Ao3 link

The curtains sway gently in the soft breeze that carries a fragrant spring air into his study. Secondo lifts his gaze to take in the lovely view through the open double doors which lead to a balcony and the well-kept gardens of Emeritus Manor. Lush rose bushes climb up the stone walls and wrap around the railings, dark green speckled with the pink of countless flowers. Somewhere in the trees the birds break out in song, their melodic chirping a pleasant background noise that accompanies him as he maintains his correspondence.

After this short reprieve for his eyes, he dips the quill back into the black pot of ink on his bureau. A few more letters and he can settle outside in the shade for his afternoon tea, perhaps even indulge and allow himself a lemon tart to go with it. He can’t remember hiring a new cook and yet he swears the smell of freshly baked pastries has filled the halls of the estate more frequently as of late, their taste tempting even him who is usually not one for desserts.

A movement in his peripheral vision distracts him momentarily but when he looks up there is nothing unusual to be seen. Secondo watches the curtains, assuring himself that it must have been the wind playing tricks on him. With a frown on his face, he focuses back on his letters. After a moment, however, he glances back up, suddenly sensing a presence in the room. When he still cannot detect anything out of the ordinary, he assumes that it must have been a ghost wandering the old halls of the manor �� it would not be the first time.

Over the scratching sounds of his quill he almost misses the tiny squeak that passes his ears only a moment later. A mouse? No ghosts that haunt him after all. He lets his eyes roam the walls that are lined with bookshelves, trying to spot any scurrying movements on the elaborately patterned rug that muffles the sound. At last, he glances down to his feet and surprise takes over his stern features.

A white baby rabbit sits next to his shoe, its tiny pink nostrils moving rapidly as it sniffs the leather with utmost interest. The creature cannot be bigger than his palm. Where could it possibly come from? As far as he is aware, they do not keep any rabbits, let alone breed them.

“Snowbell?” The voice that suddenly sounds from the balcony is soft and melodic, a young woman he cannot quite place. “Snowbell, where did you go?”

Her figure appears in the frame a mere moment later and she flinches back when she spots Secondo at his desk through the open doors. She immediately averts her eyes, her hair falling into her face and covering her features.

“Please, forgive me for the disturbance, my lord.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he replies. “I understand you are looking for this little troublemaker here?”

Secondo leans down to pick up the rabbit. Indeed it fits neatly into his gloved palm and he regrets that he cannot feel the soft fur against his fingers. The bunny breathes rapidly, its small body excited or scared, he cannot quite tell.

“Oh, you found her! Thank the lord, I thought she was lost forever.”

“Will you relieve me of her, then? She seems quite restless.”

The young woman who he cannot remember seeing before cautiously enters and with a lowered gaze approaches his desk. Secondo admires her for a moment, her striking complexion and the mesmerising way with which hair shimmers in the golden sunlight. Young and innocent, the daughter of a servant perhaps if the state of her dress is any indication. Yet it does not diminish her beauty nor her youthful radiance; he can tell that she is perhaps five-and-twenty.

She reaches for the bunny and he hands it over the desk, feeling her fingers brushing against his. Again he regrets the barrier between his skin and the world around him but even so he can tell that the heat has risen to her cheeks. She does not seem to be used to the presence of her superiors. He’s well aware of his reputation as a rather reserved and intimidating employer.

“I am not certain that I know your name,” he says before she can scurry off, skittish like the tiny animal that appears a little taller now in her smaller hands.

She replies with her name and a curtsy, not quite lady-like in practice but Secondo can tell that she must have enjoyed a good upbringing. Perhaps she has experience working for nobility.

“Where do you belong to, my girl?”

“I am François’s daughter, my lord.”

“Ah, sì, the new gardener?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He nods, watching her pet the rabbit with her slender fingers as if to calm herself. “And how do you like it here?”

“It is extraordinarily beautiful, my lord. The estate is magnificent and I quite enjoy the work in the kitchens.”

“The kitchens? So it is you who prepares these scrumptious lemon tarts?”

She nods, smiling a bit shyly. “It is a French recipe, my lord. My mother taught me how to make it when I was a wee girl and she worked for the Earl of Carlisle.”

“Are there any lemon tarts today, per chance?”

“I made a fresh batch just this morning, my lord.”

“Wonderful. Now, bring your Snowbell to safety before she scuttles away again.”

“Thank you most kindly, my lord. I promise to be more careful when I take her outside.”

He watches the young woman’s retreating form, reminding himself not to covet what he should not have. It is quite hard at the sight of such a sublime creature, though he rarely allows himself to indulge in thoughts of his carnal desires. The way she takes care of the animal tells him that she has a kind soul and how he could he ever taint it with his rotten hands?

Secondo stands to take his afternoon tea, looking forward to a generous serving of the fresh lemon tarts. He closes the balcony doors before he departs, his correspondence quite forgotten.

✦ ✧ ✦

He is too absorbed in his brother’s letter to notice the music at first.

When he finally does Secondo stops in the middle of the hallway. Rarely does he hear such sweet sounds these days, busy with politics and finances as he is. Ever since inheriting his father’s title as the Earl of Griftwood he is subjected to ball music, loud opera pieces and the talentless daughters of the other lords of the ton.

This subdued private concert is much more to his liking.

He folds the letter and pockets it before investigating the source of the music. Primo has written to him from Italy where his clerical duties keep him occupied. Secondo is relieved to learn that his brother is in good health and filling his new role as the leader of their secret church for which he has forsaken his role as the head of their family. A title that has now fallen to Secondo.

Following the trail of the music carries him further down the hall until he stops in front of a double door that stands slightly ajar. The sitting room beyond is abandoned safe for the person who has taken up residence behind the pianoforte and is now delighting the house with their pleasant tunes. Secondo is not one to swoon but when he discovers the gardener’s daughter, watching as her fingers glide over the keys in an elegant dance, he is quite taken with the sight of her.

It is only after quite some time that he spots the rabbit in her lap.

The piece ends all too soon but Secondo cannot bring himself to reveal his position. He watches on as she lifts Snowbell and places her tiny paws on the keys, playing an easy melody as she giggles and compliments her pet’s musical talent. He thinks that the snow white rabbit is an emblem of her most becoming properties – her soft and lovely presence, her gentle disposition and ethereal beauty. Two creatures that heaven must have forged together. Not for a moment does he think he could ever be worthy of her, no matter if his nobility raises him above her in this strict society. She transcends the rules of birthright and social rank, rules that he has always rejected, if not openly. Perhaps this is why he feels so drawn to her – she represents all that he has ever longed for, all that they strive to achieve with their church of Lucifer.

“I did not know we had a musician in the house,” he finally comments. “Or need I say two musicians?”

She jumps, again, startled by his domineering presence that takes over the room the moment he steps inside. After a few deep breaths she recovers and offers a polite greeting. Snowbell sits in her hand now, no bigger than a baby chick and just as restless. Her head rises as if to greet him as well, tiny button eyes shimmering not without mischief.

“Your brother told me it was alright for me to practice in here and that it is his instrument–”

“I am sorry, my dove, I did not mean to accuse you of anything untoward. Of course you may practice your music in here. We have been deprived of such beautiful sounds for way too long with no ladies in the house.”

Her shoulders sink in relief, the tension finally leaving her. “I hear that his lordship is quite a gifted musician himself. As are his brothers.”

“Ah, sì, sì, if only there was more time for it. I find that without pleasant company I cannot persuade myself to dedicate the time.” He steps further inside the room and takes a seat on one of the velvet settees, moderately close to where she’s now lowering herself back on her stool. His black breeches strain over his thighs and he adjusts his emerald green waistcoat that has ridden up, rights the knot in his cravat. “You play well, piccina. How did you come to master the pianoforte?”

“I may not be of noble upbringing, my lord, but my parents used all their means to ensure that I was educated, perhaps more than befits my station.” Her voice is sharp, not unfriendly but defensive nonetheless. “A person’s rank in society does not determine their talent for musical play.”

“I apologise if I offended your sensibilities, my dove. I did not mean to imply that your origin should have anything to do with your capability of learning an instrument.”

“No apologies are needed, my lord. It is true that such opportunities are not provided to many of my status. I cherish my privileges every day.”

Her eloquence and quick wit impress him, the dignified countenance with which she holds herself even in the face of an older man much above her in station. It would be easy to think that she is a noble lady, if it weren’t for her lack of fine clothing and jewellery. He fights off the urge to accoutre her, to dress her in the finest garments he can find in all of London and Paris or Rome. How lovely she would look with her hair done up, her slender neck exposed for his eyes alone.

And not just for his eyes.

Before he can inquire any further, Snowbell suddenly leaps from her lap. The rabbit lands on the soft carpet and scampers over towards the settee on her tiny legs.

“Oh, not again Snowbell,” the girl laments, but then she notices the rabbit’s direction and smiles softly. “I suppose she has taken a liking to you, my lord.”

“I hope she is not the only one,” he counters, allowing himself this moment of reverie.

Flustered, she averts her gaze, reacting in much the same way that he hoped she would. “Who could not be taken with him when his lordship is so very generous and kind of heart?”

Secondo smiles to himself as he leans down to pick up the cheeky rabbit, removing one of his dark leather gloves to finally feel the softness of her fur. “How did you come in possession of such an animal?” he finds himself asking. “She is quite unusual, no?”

“Oh, my father was engaged to work for another noble house in the city just before we came here and he found a nest in their garden. Snowbell was the only white rabbit of the litter. While the children of the house were allowed to keep the other rabbits they thought her cursed and wanted to kill her. I begged him to let me save her and bring her here.”

How charitable, he thinks, saving those who are unwanted, those who are abandoned by God, not differentiating between human or beast. How perfectly she would fit into his family whose ideals and values would have them shunned from society if they lived them openly. Perhaps it was not God who sent her but Lucifer himself. For him to love, to cherish, to worship.

He is aware that he is getting ahead of himself.

Snowbell allows him to pet her but he eventually stands to place the rabbit back in her saviour’s hands. This time, her fingers brush against the bare skin of his palm. A shiver runs through him, tingling down his spine before settling warmly in his lower belly.

Her heated cheeks are evidence that she feels the same way.

“Do you enjoy reading, my girl?” he asks, only now noticing the book she must have placed on the instrument. A romance novel, he notes, not without a hint of disappointment. He could not be any more different from the heroes of such tales if he tried.

“I do, my lord.” She cradles Snowbell gently against her bosom, almost protectively, and he has to tear is his eyes away from the soft skin there. “I am an avid reader when I do find the time.”

“Please, feel free to use my personal library at your convenience. I am sure that you are in want of new reading material. This book appears to be… well-loved.”

“Are you quite certain, my lord? I would not want to impose–”

“Oh, nonsense. Many of the books have been collecting dust for way too long.”

Perhaps this suggestion stems from him wanting her to frequent his spaces and not those of his brother, if only to raise his chances of running into her. If Terzo offered her his instrument then he is sure that his eyes are not the only ones that she has caught. Secondo shares many a thing with his brother, but he will not share her.

“Thank you, my lord,” she says. “I am not sure what I have done to deserve your generosity but I shall cherish it forever.”

“Hm, your services are well-appreciated, my dove. I merely wish to make your life here a little more pleasant.”

She giggles. “His lordship must really like the lemon tarts.”

Her laughter shakes him to his very core. He is tempted to smile, or to tell her that it is not the tarts that have captivated him, but all this foolish impulse does is distort his stern features into a grimace. Before her eyes can linger on him, he departs with quick steps and a racing heart, making sure to leave the door open.

A few moments later the soft tunes of her music accompany him back to his study.

✦ ✧ ✦

The rustling of the page is a steady noise in the background as he works away at the desk he strategically positioned in his library. The expense reports of the estate are all in order and yet he goes over them once more – if only to stretch out the time in her presence.

He looks up to find Snowbell happily munching on a carrot in her little crate on the floor. His true heart’s desire, however, is reading a romance novel that he so graciously stocked the library with. Not that anyone will ever see a report of this particular expense.

“Are the new books to your liking, my dove?” he finds himself asking.

“They are quite enjoyable, my lord.” She looks up, marking her page before she closes the book. “And yet… I find that I do not want a love like these books promise. It sounds rather boring to me.”

“How so?”

“The true appeal of a person lies in his or her imperfections, my lord. Not even the finest, most handsome young man could tempt me when there is no flaw in his character that captures my interest. If I should ever fall in love it should be with a man much older who has been shaped by the hardships of life, with rough edges but a core that still carries a soft heart that he only shows to those he holds dear. I should like to uncover this heart and have it beat only for me.”

Secondo pauses for a moment. Could it be true? Could a beautiful young woman like her truly fall for an old man such as himself? Accept that their love would be flawed and rejected by society and love him all the more for it? If it is true what she implies then does he dare hope–

“You are quite different from what I expected, my lord,” she says before his thoughts can carry him away. “I have heard many things that I now know to be untrue.”

“And how so?”

“Everyone told me that you were quiet and rather cold, polite but not in the habit of keeping anyone’s company and while generous with your staff they said it is rare to see you outside of your study. And yet… I have only ever sensed your warmth, your generosity, and while you are a private man I feel as though I got to know you merely by being in the same room and striking up idle conversation. You have requested my presence almost daily as of late and I must admit that I find great comfort in spending my time with you, so much so that I feel sad when a day goes by and I cannot see you.”

Secondo stands abruptly, overwhelmed by the sudden sparks of emotion that ignite the fire in a heart he has long since thought to be withered. His long legs carry him to where she is sitting on a plush settee, the golden sun from the window illuminating her like an angel incarnate. She is a dream he finds himself caught in, and not of his own volition.

“My dove,” he says as he kneels down in front of her, grasping her hand tightly in his. “Your companionship is the greatest gift that I have ever received.”

He presses a fervent kiss to her knuckles, quite overcome with his desires. How he longs to pull her into his embrace, to kiss her plump cheeks and soft lips, to keep her trapped against his chest and stroke her hair for hours.

When he meets her eyes, she seems surprised by his sudden outburst, but not at all repelled like he had feared. “My dear lord, how I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

Secondo releases a shuddering breath and buries his face in her lap. When she begins to caress his head, running her soft fingers along the sharp lines of his cheekbones, he feels like he wants to weep.

✦ ✧ ✦

The delivery goes smoothly – until his brother appears in the doorway.

“A new instrument?” Terzo asks. “Whatever for? You could have asked to use mine, fratello.”

Secondo grumbles in reply, wishing his brother would finally leave. He is dressed smartly – a dark purple brocade waistcoat with a matching tailcoat, black breeches, a white cravat, high leather boots and a brand new top hat – ready to leave for a picnic or whatever social event he is planning to attend in pursuit of his latest sweetheart. He has always mirrored Secondo’s expensive taste in clothing but decided that his colour was purple instead of green. If it weren’t for Secondo’s lack of hair and Terzo’s thick black locks their brotherly relation would be uncanny, if not a little ridiculous.

“Do you not have to make an appearance somewhere else?” Secondo asks when his brother lingers while they set up the pianoforte under his watchful eyes.

“Oh, I still have enough time to observe my brother’s folly. Tell me, did she bewitch you so that you are wasting the family’s funds now? How exactly do you plan on introducing the gardener’s daughter to polite society, fratello?”

A deep breath. Secondo cannot strangulate him in front of the suppliers. “I do not know what you are talking about. I merely wish to possess an instrument of my own.”

“Mhm and the ornate rabbits carved into the wood? Are those to your taste as well?”

“I am very fond of animals. I quite enjoy the design, do you not find it endearing?”

Terzo merely chuckles in reply, the words altogether unfamiliar from his bother’s tongue, and pats his shoulder with a heavy hand. “I will make sure that the pamphlets are filled with someone else’s transgressions, should you decide that a diversion of the ton’s attention is needed in light of your imminent marriage to a commoner.”

Secondo refuses to argue with him, Terzo is too smart for that. Instead he waits until they are alone again and his brother further inspects the pianoforte. The tunes he lures from the keys are splendid, much richer in sound than any he has heard before. A good investment, Secondo decides.

“What a splendid instrument,” his brother says. “I shall hope that your little rabbit plays it for you on many an occasion.”

“I plan to have her play it for me every day for as long as I live.”

Terzo raises a brow. “So you do intend to propose? My, my! I did not expect you to ever let go of your determination to stay alone for the rest of your days. What has changed?”

“I met the loveliest creature to walk this earthly plane, fratello, I have been touched by her angelic hands and saw the true meaning of paradise. I do not care much what polite society has to say about our union. I am quite ready to be selfish after I sacrificed my freedom for this family.”

“And politics, your favourite subject?”

“I do not plan to advertise this marriage, fratello. I shall be ready to face all the consequences, for her love will carry me through the worst of it.”

“Oh, how you have changed!” Terzo snickers but not unkindly. “I am very happy for you, brother mine. She will make a lovely wife for an old grump such as yourself.”

“You are just as old,” Secondo says dismissively. “And yet you act like a bachelor in the prime of his youth.”

“And I shall continue to do so for as long as I can. If you will excuse me now, I have a rendezvous to attend and I am already late.”

The moment Terzo departs, Secondo allows his own hands to explore the pianoforte. He is quite out of practice but the finely tuned instruments sounds wonderful even under his stiff fingers. An old song finds its way into his head and he allows his memory to do the rest of the work.

When he finally finishes, he is pulled from his trance by the loveliest of voices.

“My lord, you asked for me,” she says timidly as she approaches him. “I do not wish to interrupt when you play such lovely songs.”

“You are not interrupting, my dove. Please, come here, sit down in my stead. This is yours now.”

“Oh, but my lord–” She trails off, her pupils widening at the sight of the brand new instrument.

He is not certain what he did to upset her. “If you would rather play a harp or a lyre–”

“No, no, that is not what I mean, my lord. I just… I am not worthy of such an expensive gift.”

“Oh, but my dove, you are more than worthy. And it is not entirely selfless. I hope I will be hearing your sweet music more often while I am working in here.”

She smiles affectionately. “I shall play for his lordship whenever he wishes. I shall… I shall play until my fingers hurt!”

“I would never allow for this to happen,” he decides, reaching for her hands and massaging them gently in his. “No pain may befall my dearest for as long as I am here to prevent it.”

She holds his gaze, hope shimmering in her irises. “I shall play with caution then, I would not want my lord to be in distress on my behalf. Would you hold Snowbell for me, please?”

Before she sits, she pulls the rabbit from the pocket of her dress where the she must have napped for she perks up sleepily when she is set down in his broad hands. Secondo does not make a move to stand.

“My lord–”

He uses his free hand to pull her into his lap and she gasps before her fingers find the keys. He can feel her shivering against his chest, her breathing as rapid as his heartbeat.

“I am not sure that I can play under his lordship’s scrutiny,” she whispers.

“I am quite certain that you can.”

With another shaky breath she begins to play. Heavenly tunes fill the room, her hands working their magic on the keys of the fine instrument. It is a song he has not heard before, slow and rather quiet but all the more powerful on his emotions. Her confidence soon returns and she plays in the same carefree way that he has grown to enjoy, only this time she is in his space, where she belongs. She is in his arms, breathes the very same air that flows through his lungs, and he can sense that he made the right choice.

The moment her hands come to a stop, he places Snowbell back in her palms and turns her sideways over his lap. Flustered by the proximity she glances down to her hands, only to notice that the rabbit has a white ribbon loosely tied around her body.

“I will ask your father for your hand,” Secondo says bluntly and her eyes widen.

“My lord, that is… it is impossible.”

“It will be possible, if it is your wish as well.”

“But, I am just–”

He stops her, taking her chin between his fingers to force her eyes to meet his. “My dove, I need a clear answer.”

“Yes.”

Overcome with relief he closes the distance and devours her lips in a passionate kiss. She presses against him with the same fervour, though careful not to squash the rabbit in her hand. Her body feels heated underneath the thin fabric of her cheap dress and he vows to have the modiste come the very next day to take her measurements. His hands roam her curves without shame now while he ravishes her, kissing her with a passion that threatens to make his heart burst, unused as it is to such feral emotion. She tugs at his cravat then, and he relents, allowing them both to break away for air.

Her forehead falls against his, their noses brushing as their heavy breaths mingle in the space in between. Suddenly Snowbell squeals in her palm and when they both look down the rabbit leaps from her hand onto the keyboard. As the off-key notes penetrate the room, they both smile. Perhaps they have to hire a different musician for the wedding after all.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

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#secondo x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo fanfiction #papa emeritus ii fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #regency au #female reader #reader insert

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ghulehunknown · 3 months

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Papa Headcanons - Valentine’s Day 💕

Rated PG-13 for implied adult themes!

Oh my goodness, it’s Valentine’s Day! How will your beloved celebrate with you?

~💘💝💘~

Primo

Gives you a beautiful bouquet of roses grown in his garden

Surprises you with herbal tea in bed while he makes you breakfast

He arranges for everyone in the Ministry to send a secret valentine to an assigned person, so you all get a cute card or treat

He’s surprisingly very into theming so he wears a red robe and mitre that day, and eats lots of pink foods

He gives everyone a single flower, even his least favorite ghoul

Says he has a nice surprise for you later; lit candles everywhere, your favorite snacks, a bubble bath, and some lingerie for…certain activities after you relax 🛁

Secondo

Also surprises you with breakfast in bed, complete with one of those silver covers that he flourishes as if you just got fancy room service

Packs your lunch for you that day with a cute little note which you proceed to keep in your wallet for a long time

He relieves you of your Sibling job duties a few hours early and arranges for you to have a massage done by the Ministry’s massage therapist

He arranges Valentines karaoke for the ghouls and siblings, the setlist being rock’s greatest love ballads and also some Celine Dion mixed in

Bakes you a cake (or whatever your fave dessert is) and decorates it with pink heart sprinkles

His final gift of the day is flowers with some very nice jewelry…and also a new lingerie set. He wants to see you in the set wearing the new jewelry he got you, saying it’s a gift for him too and he wants to admire it

Terzo

His penis. He gives you…his penis, wrapped in a bow. “Breakfast in bed, mm?” he’d say (don’t worry, he offers to go down on you too)

Okay, okay, he actually comes back with coffee, cigarettes, and Pop-Tarts

Has flowers sent to you while you’re both at work so you’ll think of him all day (so all your coworkers/the other Siblings see what an amazing boyfriend you have)

Encourages everyone to leave work early that day so “you can all go fuck each other!”

Orders sushi takeout (or whatever you want if you don’t like sushi but author happens to love it) and has made a whole setup of pillows and blankets on the floor for you to watch cute movies while you eat dinner and snacks

Gives you naughty conversation hearts and says you have to do whatever it tells you to…they’re instructions for bedding you later

Scatters rose petals all over the bedroom, lights candles so the room looks very romantic and promises to make love to you like never before

Copia

You wake up to utter chaos - a burning smell from the kitchen and rats running all over the place. “Eh, it was supposed to be a surprise…we’ll get takeout.”

But you’ve already DoorDashed pancakes for the pair of you, because somehow you knew he’d be too stressed to handle everything

He’s genuinely very excited to celebrate Valentine’s Day so he can go all out to show you just how much he cares about you

He decorates his office and room the day before - all pinks, reds, and purples with hearts everywhere

He gifts everyone in the Ministry a cute little paper valentine, like the kind you used to pass out in elementary school

Says cheesy but sweet things all day, like asking you to be his valentine, making puns like “bee mine buzzzzzz,” etc.

Smothers you in hugs and kisses

Wants to watch rom coms with you before going to bed that night, complete with themed snacks

He bought you matching V-Day underwear

Nihil

Gets you one of those generic heart shaped chocolate boxes from the drug store

He also leaves a very mushy, sentimental hallmark card on your nightstand

“Why do we need a special day? I love you everyday!”

He doesn’t arrange anything for the Ministry as a whole but he does make sure to do the bare minimum for his partner

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ramblingoak · 3 months

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Naps With Copia

Nap #10: Napping With Your Valentine

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

For @pinklunarprincess 💙 who wanted Copia to play with their hair

Cardinal Copia x gn!reader

These are all stand alone chapters so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft Copia naps.

Warnings: a very sappy Valentine's Day themed nap, I'm not sorry, sfw, 1k words, enjoy! (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers)

You were going to be late.

Of all the days to be running behind it had to be today. A day that Copia had been teasing you about for weeks now. Weeks of silly clues and guessing games. You had used every trick in the book (and in bed) to try to get him to tell you his plans for Valentine’s Day but he wouldn’t fess up. It had gotten to the point he had started to avoid you, even turning heel and jogging away from you in the hallways.

He was lucky you loved him so much.

But now you had probably ruined everything. He had been very specific about you being back to his quarters by noon. Copia had planned a big lunch to treat you since there was a larger event for the entire congregation that evening. The whole place had smelled amazing already as soon as you woke up. He had been quick to usher you away, practically throwing your clothes at you so you didn’t try to sneak peeks into the tiny kitchen.

You had been huffy but finally obliged him, trudging down the halls to your office. Thankfully today was supposed to be relatively easy. No tours on the horizon, no conferences, no trips…just a morning of receiving deliveries for the party and then you’d be free by noon. Free to eat whatever amazing meal Copia was creating and then free to hopefully make out a little on his couch.

It was Valentine’s Day after all.

Unfortunately it seemed your special lunch and making out time was doomed. Delivery after delivery had been late and one truck had somehow managed to crash into the gate to the abbey grounds. It had been 2pm by the time everything had been sorted out. You were tired, starving and ready to snap at anyone that started your way with a clipboard in their hand. Thankfully you were saved by Secondo who must have noticed you were at the end of your patience.

“Go on, let me take care of all of this.”

“Really?” You took a few careful steps back, not sure if he was just teasing you or not. “Are you sure?”

“Sì, I don’t want to deal with mio fratellino pouting the rest of the week.”

Secondo held out his hand for the delivery folders you had been balancing all morning, a soft smile on his face. You couldn’t help but squeal, shoving the folders against his chest and then placing a loud, obnoxious kiss on his cheek. He was sputtering something in Italian as you took off down the hall but you’d deal with his irritation later. Right now you had a lunch date you were very, very late for.

As you stumbled into the main room it seemed like you were too late, Copia was nowhere in sight. There was a cold meal on the table in the kitchen, candles long since gone out. You couldn’t help but let out a groan, feeling absolutely terrible about ruining something Copia had spent so long planning.

“Amore?”

Copia’s sleepy voice broke you out of your spiraling thoughts and you quickly turned to the sound of his voice. All you could see was his head poking up over the back of the couch, his hair sticking up all over the place. He gave you a sleepy smile when he saw you and it grew when you moved closer. You snorted when you made your way around the couch, seeing him stretched out in his bright red suit and covered in empty chocolate wrappers.

“You look like a valentine.” He rolled his eyes but held his hands out for you, smiling when you kicked your shoes off and gently climbed onto the couch to lay against him. “Cutest valentine ever.”

His cheeks pinked up a bit as he leaned in for a kiss but before his lips touched yours he jerked back, his eyes narrowing.

“Is that black lipstick?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s from Secondo.”

“Sec–? Wha–mmph.”

He relaxed as you kissed him, his fingers slipping up to comb through your hair. You made a soft noise in your throat as he rubbed his fingers along your scalp. He always knew just how to touch you, just how to hold you and kiss you and make you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. After a few moments you pulled away, matching his sleepy smile with one of yours.

“I’m sorry I ruined our lunch.”

“Shh, no need to apologize, amore mio. I already put the leftovers in the fridge, I can heat those up for you.”

When he made to get up you pressed your hands down on his shoulders, kissing his nose when he gave you a confused look.

“Let’s stay here a bit longer. Please.”

Copia nodded and settled back against the couch again, his fingers running through your hair once more. He had started to braid parts of it, something he did in moments like this. Moments where you were both relaxed and doing nothing more than enjoying each other's company. You only moved when his chest rumbled under your ear as he spoke.

“How about we take a little nap, eh? Then we can have an early dinner before the party.”

“That sounds perfect.” He tilted your chin up so he could reach your lips, giving you a gentle, lingering kiss. It was one of your favorite kinds of kisses from him. Although this one had the added bonus of the hint of chocolate leftover from the candy he had eaten. You couldn’t help but give his full bottom lip a little nibble before finally pulling away. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Copia.”

“And Happy Valentine’s Day to you, amore. Now stop distracting me with your lips, let me nap.” You rolled your eyes but dropped your head down onto his chest, sighing when one of his hands went back to your hair. “But when we wake up you’re going to explain why you were kissing Secondo.”

Despite your body shaking with laughter, sleep was still quickly creeping up on you. It wasn’t long before you were drifting off, your arms wrapped tightly around the best valentine anyone could ask for.

Up next is a nap for an Anon 💙

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#oakie's writing #naps with copia #copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #cardinal copia

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gravehags · 9 months

Text

dreadful need in the devotee

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Mature

Tags: drunk reader, soft copia, general aching sweetness, slight horniness

Words: 1,670

Summary: Taking shots from Terzo is probably a bad idea, right? The cardinal helps take care of you in the aftermath.

a/n: This is the most self indulgent thing I have ever written. Reader has a thigh tattoo because I have a thigh tattoo and you know what this is absolutely about me and my needs. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Tagging @anamelessfool come get y'all food

~~~

He’s never seen you like this before.

Granted, you’ve only been working at the abbey for almost five months so it’s not saying much, but he likes to think he knows you better than anyone else here. Over those five months the two of you have become close, particularly after Imperator directed him to assist you in your quest to curate the abbey’s art collection. It’s a daunting task, but your enthusiasm for the subject was infectious, as was the bright grin that always graced your features whenever you made some new, exciting discovery. Before you, he barely interacted with anyone else apart from his fratelli and Sister Imperator, and your presence has felt like a refreshing rain storm after a long stretch of sweltering, oppressive loneliness. He’s invigorated by you and your anxious energy, as if you emanate some sort of force field that draws him in.

Perhaps drawing him in in more ways than one.

Copia shakes off the thought and sets down his glass of chianti, returning his attention to what you are currently occupied with. Terzo has just passed you a shot of something dangerous Copia suspects comes from the Ministry’s own stills and you, having completely shaken off your mantle of shyness, accept with aplomb. Copia winces as you down the concoction, mirroring the slight gagging motion you make. He knows the stuff all too well, thanks to Terzo in their youth. Secondo roars with laughter behind him, two siblings clinging to his sides, while Primo sits in the corner smiling and shaking his head. You perform a deep, if wobbly, curtsy, an electric grin twisting your flushed cheeks. When Terzo pulls you in for an intimate side hug to murmur something in your ear as siblings around you laugh and cheer, a bubble of jealousy surfaces in Copia’s belly. Whatever Terzo says to you makes you blush deeper and roll your eyes, shoving him away as he laughs jovially.

What he wouldn’t give to make you blush like that for him.

Copia, mood slightly soured, turns to leave the area when in an instant, you are by his side.

“Cardinale,” you say, swaying slightly towards him with bright eyes. “Are you leaving?”

He reaches backwards to a bookshelf where he had placed his biretta and favors you with a soft, apologetic smile.

“Eh, sì. I think it’s time.”

For a moment you look devastated, then in a moment of panicked clarity, you place a hand on his arm.

“Me too,” you whisper conspiratorially. “Please get me out of here before Terzo gives me another one of those shots, that shit almost killed me.”

Your hushed confession makes him chuckle and before he can respond, you’re ushering him out of the room with your hand on the small of his back, making the tips of his ears turn pink. Once the two of you finally escape out the door and down the hall, you let out a dramatic heaving sigh and collapse against the cool stone wall.

“Cardinal,” you say, eyes focused on something over his shoulder.

“Sì, mia cara?” He chances the endearment he’s been dying to gift upon you from the moment you met.

You refocus back on him at his words and oh, the way your cheeks flush all the way across your chest. Take that, Terzo, Copia thinks triumphantly.

“Take me back to my rooms? I…don’t think I can find my way.”

He grins slightly and nods as you link your arm with his and he guides you further down the hall. Your journey up several flights of stairs and down several more hallways is quiet, punctuated by the occasional loud hiccup from you. He knows that silence from you all too well now - you’re contemplating something. You absentmindedly rub at the red wool of his sleeve with your thumb and more than once, you lean into him as if you’re about to say something.

But you remain silent.

When the two of you reach your rooms, you let out a dramatic sigh and turn to him with a pout.

“Help me,” you whine, gripping his sleeves and dragging him towards the door.

“Sì, sì, I will help you. Ah…keys?”

You fumble around with the small jeweled crossbody bag you brought to the party, doing a concerning amount of rummaging for such a small capacity item. Finally you emerge triumphant, presenting your room keys to him with a flourish. Delicately, he removes them from the tangle of your fingers and opens the door. You push past him only slightly in your eagerness to be inside the comfort of your own rooms, and the first thing you do is remove the heels you’ve worn for the evening, violently flinging them across the room. He winces as he hears something crash and fall.

“I was not built for that shit,” you grouse, now stomping barefoot into the center of the room, where you stand and sway for several minutes.

“Eh, bed?” Copia provides helpfully, gesturing to the closed door on his right.

“Damn straight,” you announce, stumbling slightly over to the door and opening it.

Copia’s been in your quarters before. After checking in on you one night and finding you crying and homesick, you had let him in and the two of you bonded on your couch about the inherent loneliness of the abbey. That was the first time you had hugged him, a deep crushing thing filled with so much emotion it nearly made him faint. He didn’t wash that cassock for a week after that, too content to smell your perfume on it til it faded to nothingness. He has not, however, been in your bedroom.

He follows you in and takes in the surroundings - it’s a decent size, with a queen bed in the center and a dark wooden dresser. The first thing he notices is the walls are covered in art - no surprise there - and he smiles at the subject matter. Devils, witches, and temptresses decorate ornate frames you had likely found in various storage rooms in the abbey. He may make a sister of sin out of you yet. He’s so lost in his thoughts that for a moment he doesn’t notice how you move to strip down in front of him. When he sees you begin to slide the straps of your dress down he starts with an exclamatory noise.

“Cara!” he shouts hoarsely, causing you to jump. “Not here!”

You look confused for a moment before he looks around behind him and spots a black sleep chemise crumpled on the duvet. He grabs it and thrusts it into your hands before ushering you into the adjacent bathroom. You don’t protest, but Copia does spot the mischievous curl of your lips as you shut the door behind you. When you have been safely secured away from his gaze he returns his attention to the room. Shuffling over to your dresser he begins to pick up and study the tchotchkes you have collected - various pointed crystal towers, a little ceramic pig, some kind of small animal skull, and – oh. Your perfume sits innocently amidst the clutter, the decorative bottle calling to him. Copia looks over his shoulder before picking it up and inhaling deep. He bolsters himself so he doesn’t collapse against the foot of your bed, but he feels almost as intoxicated as you are upon smelling its contents. He’s ashamed to admit how much it affects him, once again glancing over his shoulder as he adjusts himself through the abundant material of his cassock. Copia does not wear deviancy as easily as Terzo. He’s about to chastise himself for being a pervert when your bathroom door flies open. When he turns to see you, he exhales shakily.

Maybe he should have grabbed different pajamas.

You strut out towards him, the silk of your nightgown shining in the low light of the room, and give him what can only be described as a sultry look before flinging yourself on the duvet. His throat is dry as he regards you reclining on the material, writhing slightly in an attempt to get cozy, causing his thoughts to wander and darken. When you finally get comfortable, you look up at him from under your lashes and he turns slightly to hide the hardening of his cock. Your movements have caused the hem of your chemise to ride up your body, exposing the meat of your thigh and the large tattoo there to his gaze.

He didn’t even know you had a tattoo there.

“Eh, goodnight.” He moves to make a rapid exit from your bedroom but you grab his sleeve with impressive speed, pulling him back to sit next to you on the bed. Copia knows his cheeks are violently red as you take his gloved hand in yours and squeeze it. He looks at you askance and practically melts at the soft way you regard him.

“Il mio cardinale,” you murmur, and before he can say anything you’ve brought his hand to your mouth, kissing the gloved knuckles in an echo of the way he introduced himself to you all those months ago. All he can bring himself to do is nod and you smile warmly at him, looking more sober now than you have all evening.

“You’re always so good to me.” you say simply, making his heart swell.

“You’re easy to be good to,” Copia manages to whisper in response. The gleam in your eyes makes him feel exhilarated. Brave. The boldness you have inspired causes him to lean down and softly kiss your forehead, lips lingering on your skin.

“Buona notte, cara.”

He moves to pull away but you’ve got your hand on his cheek in an instant, brushing your lips to the point of his neatly trimmed sideburns.

“Buona notte, Copia.”

When he finally brings himself to leave your bedroom, and then your quarters, he is bursting with radiant light. He wants to sing, to scream, to cry all at once.

Take that, Terzo, indeed.

#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x f!reader #cardinal copia #copia #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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earthry · 10 months

Text

Watermelon Kisses | Secondo x Reader

Content / Warnings: papa emeritus ii x reader, sfw, 3.2k words, secondo angst, hurt/comfort, tw violent imagery (mild)

Author’s Note: thank you to @sirlsplayland for commissioning me!

commission info

What starts as visiting you in the gardens under the guise of seeing his brother turns into much more turns into a lesson on healing for Secondo. Also watermelon becomes a metaphor.

“Dolcezza, would you like some help?”

You startle as your fingertips barely brush the bottom of the apple you are trying to reach, tipping back from your ladder in a terrifying moment in time, eyes widening and hands thrown forwards grasping at nothing. Your heart is in your throat as you let out a soft shriek. Before you can fully lose your footing however, you are saved by large hands encasing your waist, steadying you with a low rumble from its owner.

“Careful there, wouldn’t want you to take a tumble, si?” Secondo’s hands stay on your waist, a safety net in case you tip again. Your cheeks turn a peachy pink, but not from working under the sun all day. Heart drumming in your chest, you try to distract yourself from the hyper awareness of his touch.

“Papa! You scared me,” you breathed in and let him help you down from the ladder. Your legs are a bit shaky from the scare and his hands stay firm holding you– something you once again try not to think too hard about.

“Ah, sorry fragolina mia. It was not my intention to do so.” He sounds genuinely apologetic, so you reward him with a sunny smile. Your clothes are dirt stained and rumpled with your sleeves rolled up high, a complete opposite to Secondo’s pristinely pressed robes and untouched papal paint.

He was a frequent visitor to the garden these days; you’re not sure what exactly had pulled such an interest but in passing Primo has expressed a relief for the increased visitation from his brother.

“I was worried about him for a while,” he tells you over weed pulling from the herb garden, “I think being Papa changed him as it did with I but worse. He’s still trying to figure out what to do with himself now that the Ministry is no longer– what is the saying? Breathing down his neck?”

“Oh,” you go silent, turning over Primo’s words in your head like a puzzle. Secondo didn’t seem like he didn’t know what he was doing; he was often far confident in himself so it was a surprise to you to hear so.

“Obviously do not tell him what I tell you,” Primo hums as he wipes his brow. It was midday and the sun showed no relent in beating down on the two of you as you worked. “To most he is just a bitter old man in retirement, si? But he is… more sensitive than you would think.”

“With no disrespect Papa, but why are you telling me this?” You worry your bottom lip, not sure why Primo is being so loose-lipped today– more so than usual. Though he wouldn’t admit it, the Papa did have a love for indulging in the ministry’s latest hot gossip, but this was much more than just this week's tea. This was his personal life.

Primo chuckles a little and turns from his gardening to look at you, “Little one, I may be old but I am not senile enough to not see the gaze you give my fratello when he is not looking.”

“Papa!” You squeak, hands flying to your mouth at the interruption but Primo only laughs.

“Have no fear, your secret is safe with me.” Red faced, you turn back to your own weeding, trying not to aggressively tear up the garden beds as you will the heat from your cheeks to subside.

The ripe apple you’ve been trying to pluck from its throne on the branches above leers at you mockingly and you frown at it. Secondo looks at you for a moment before wordlessly mounting the ladder himself, easily lifting himself within reach in seconds and picking the fruit without fanfare. When he gets down, he hands the apple to you with a little smirk, one that makes your heart do a little loopity-loop. “You seemed to be having trouble getting that one. Fortunately I am not as vertically challenged as you.”

You swear if you did not love this man as you did, you’d show him just how short you are by being perfect punching level to his crotch but alas you do love this dumb man so you resist and merely scowl at him instead as you begrudgingly take the apple from him.

He is not perturbed by this at all, in fact he found it endearing and frankly kind of adorable. He was often teasing you like this for your reaction, loving how you seem to pout or sulk at him with glares only to melt into a smile seconds later when he asks about the garden or your work.

“Tell me dolcezza, is apple picking the only task on the agenda today?” Secondo asks, peering over at the small basket of apples you had accumulated so far. You shake your head.

“Primo told me to meet him back at the melon patch after I’m done. We’re supposed to be planting new seeds today.”

“I see– I shall accompany you over then, si? I am here to see my fratello after all.” He takes the basket from you like a gentleman, and you almost protest until he offers you his arm. “It would be rude of me to make you carry such a heavy basket.”

You hold back the response of pointing out that the basket hardly weighed much at all in favor of taking his arm. You earn a grin in response and you both make your way back to Primo for the next task.

Primo is sorting through a box of seeds as you return. When he looks up to see the two of you together, his eyes seem to twinkle brighter. “Ah, sorella, fratello. Just in time to plant the watermelons.”

You let go of Secondo’s arm to eagerly kneel next to Primo by the intended patch for planting. Secondo hangs back– though he misses your presence by his side. You turn your head to look up at him. He’s wearing a neutral look on his face, as though he’s a little at the loss of what to do now that he’s here. He could hardly pull Primo away for a conversation now, but it would also be awkward to just walk away from the two of you without an excuse.

Just as he was brainstorming one, you interrupt his thoughts, staring at him with keen eyes as Primo’s words echo in your head; a reminder.

“He’s still trying to figure out what to do with himself now that the Ministry is no longer– what is the saying? Breathing down his neck?”

“Papa Secondo?” His attention turns to you, sitting in the dirt with your cheeks rosy from the heat. A tentative smile is offered to him as you ask, “Would you like to plant watermelons with us?”

At first he flounders– something he rarely does. Usually he oozes confidence and dominance in every move he makes, every word he speaks. Now however, he is being offered to… garden? But that was Primo’s thing. Just like how Terzo’s thing was cooking and Copia’s thing was rats. He didn’t have a thing like them– but he couldn’t just come and take Primo’s, right?

“Ah, yes fratello, why don’t you come join us?” His older brother’s eyes are kind, his smile encouraging and suddenly Secondo is eight years old again. Anxious with a thrumming beat in his heart as Primo takes his little hand.

“Listen to me, fratellino. Father is wrong, you are capable of growth. You will nurture the ministry and bathe in its glory one day. I know it. They will love you.”

And love him they did– but there was a fluke. Or at first he had considered it a fluke that they would only ever love Papa, but after the first few years of retirement, he now understands that Secondo just wasn’t the same. It was Papa who could grow passion in the hearts of many, Papa who stood in the spotlight to deliver the dark lord’s message, to speak his word.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea, si?” He chuckles a little to disguise his hesitation, “They would wither away within a few weeks, best leave the gardening to the two of you.”

He moves to leave but you decide that you are having none of it. You stand, stumbling forwards to grab Secondo’s hand. You keep him there, an anchor. He looks caught off guard, mismatched eyes wide as he blinks at you. “Che cosa–?”

“And why do you think that?” You demand to know. “Why would they wither?”

“Eh,” he laughs a little nervously but doesn’t yank his hand away. Perhaps it’s because he visits the gardens so often to see the sunlight reflected in your smile each day, perhaps it’s because you seem so genuinely pleased to see him each time. “I am not so good at the whole uh,” he gestures his hand a little, “the whole growing thing.”

“That is not true, fratello. The ministry has seen a significant rise in numbers since your papacy.” Primo points out. You almost miss it, but a flash of pain crosses Secondo’s expression before anger bubbles to the surface.

“Cazzo di merda, that was Papa, not me.” He bites bitterly and suddenly it’s a little clearer to you. Why he hangs around the ministry like a ghost, why he never seems to mingle much after retirement as much as he did as Papa. Most siblings were too afraid to approach him or invite him to do things. You can see now how it’s affected him. His hands have balled into fists but you are not afraid.

“And Secondo is Papa. You are not two different things, you don’t have to be.” You tug his wrist towards you and he follows like a lost lamb, a little speechless at your outburst. “I’ll prove it to you.”

You tug him down to his knees next to you and start pointing out which spots were the ideal places to put watermelon seeds and how far they should be sown apart. He is silent the whole time, eyes fixated on the dirt in front of him, but he does seem to be listening.

Together under Primo’s careful instruction, you begin planting several rows of watermelon together and by the time you’ve finished watering the last seed, Secondo has begun to make conversation and act like himself again.

He looks doubtful at the patch as the three of you stand together. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what’s racing through his mind. You hesitate for a moment, unsure if it would be crossing a line, before taking his dirt-stained hands in yours. “They will grow, Papa, just watch.”

——————

Spring passes and soon summer encroaches upon the ministry. Secondo’s visits are no longer visits now, as he comes to the garden each day to inspect the watermelon patch and water it with you. He’s apprehensive the first few weeks, but as little buds begin to sprout from the earth, you can see his apprehension turn to excitement. It’s rather cute, you think to yourself, as he proudly points out the strongest looking stems.

When it comes time to thin the patch out and leave the strongest plants, he’s too attached for you to just toss the weak ones out. Instead, you ask Primo if Secondo can have a little spot of his own in the garden– and of course Primo was more than happy to get one set up for the two of you. He transplants the watermelon in his own patch with the most care you’ve seen. His robes are ruffled and stained from kneeling and sitting in the dirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too busy making sure his baby watermelons are spaced out enough for them to grow properly and not disturb each other.

“There’s a chance they might not survive transplanting,” you warn him gently. You don’t want to discourage him, but you also don’t want to get his hopes up. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem to be deterred and your heart warms as he insists that no, they’ll make it. He’ll make sure they do.

When the first flower blooms, you think he’s going to cry, but he hugs you instead and you hug him back just as tightly. “They’re growing, dolcezza, look! They’re growing!” You nod and let him point out all the sprouting buds and from the corner of your eye, you see Primo watching with a smile.

Two months blow by quickly and soon they begin to transform into fruit and grow fat and wide. You spend a whole afternoon with Secondo and Primo discussing watermelon recipes. Primo suggests maybe putting it on bruschetta and Secondo looks thoroughly scandalized at the suggestion.

In the third month, they’re almost ripe enough to pick and Secondo becomes almost intolerable. The first thing he asks you each day is ‘are they ready’ and all he wants to do is stare at them and patrol for pests that may harm his watermelon children.

——————

It happens overnight and by the time the ghouls in the area were alerted the damage had already been done. Primo is there first thing in the morning and you come running to a stop in front of him, eyes wide as he looks at you with sad eyes.

Behind him, the garden is in bad shape. Flowerbeds trampled, the tomatoes are barely intact, the cages keeping their shape bent and twisted like angry thorns. The main watermelon patch is almost entirely upturned, smashed melons in a burial ground.

Worse, however, stands Secondo’s watermelon patch in the very back of the garden. It had not escaped the destruction and there wasn’t a single one left. The rinds smashed and tore bare. Ripped apart, the red insides staining the dirt like blood.

“A bunch of porco di dio church kids from the catholic one down the road,” Primo explains with a tight voice. “At least once a year there’s a group of dumb preteens who think they’re tough enough to sneak into the ‘evil satanic cult church’ and wreck shit.”

You’re upset and you know Secondo is going to be crushed. The three months of waiting… the promise you made him. It guiltily weighs over your head like a vice. “W-why?” You can’t wrap your head around it, “We never do shit to them, we don’t have anything to do with them.”

“Little one, here we are taught not to hate those different from us. It cannot be said the same for all religions. Some will teach that those different are wicked, that we deserve it. In their eyes, they are doing a service.”

“But they aren’t–!” You cry. You open your mouth to protest more, but a strangled sound behind you makes you whip around.

Secondo stands there, his papal paint not even applied for the day, looking like he’d run the entire way. He isn’t looking at either of you, instead his eyes focused on his watermelon patch. You see his throat bob as he swallows thickly.

“Papa–” you begin, unsure how to comfort him, unsure how he’s going to take this.

“I heard what happened and came as fast as I… as I could.” He says numbly. His feet don’t want to move but he forces himself forwards to the carnage, his eyes darting around wildly at the bloodshed.

His eyes burn as he kneels down to touch one of the destroyed melons, hands come away slick from its juices, like blood. Trying to access the rest of the damage, he can see that there’s not a single one left. The plants themselves look rooted up as if they were pulled, some leaves already curling in on themselves and dying. Withering. Like he knew they would.

Withering from his touch. He had thought… well. He didn’t know what he had thought. But for a moment, it was as if he could touch something and be okay again.

Secondo collapses to his knees with a muffled sob and you rush forwards, enveloping your arms around his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Papa– I’m so sorry.”

——————

You don’t see Secondo the rest of the day, nor do you see him the day after. Primo said to give him some time but you are anxious. He had been so excited and lively the past few weeks and all of that was gone now. Even worse however, was that this proved a point to Secondo. That he was incapable without his Papacy.

The third day arises and you find yourself at his door, knocking and knocking and knocking until finally, he yanks the door open with an annoyed growl that dies when he sees who it is. He looks awful, like he hasn’t showered in a few days, or gotten out of bed at all. You know its more than likely that he hadn’t.

“What are you doing here,” he asks quietly, “You’re usually working in the gardens at this hour.”

You take his hand, much like you did on that day you’d planted the watermelons together. “Come with me,” you demand.

“Che cosa–?” he yelps as you drag him out of the room. He doesn’t know why he’s letting you, he could easily stop you or pull away. Perhaps there’s a part of him that hopes you stay even though he’s a ruined man.

He stiffens as you drag him to the gardens, and you soothe him. The garden’s been picked up and fixed as best as you and Primo could the last few days. There was still a lot of damage to mend, but the most important part was Secondo’s little patch. He is reluctant as you continue to pull him forwards until he sees the hint of green. “They missed one I think,” you explain to him. “See?”

There, in the mess of upturned dirt and torn vines, is an untouched watermelon. Its stripes are unblemished and smooth as Secondo reaches for it with shaking hands. As soon as he makes contact, he falls to his knees with a little half laugh, half cry. He encases his large hands around it, feeling the smoothness of the rind.

There’s a sniffle and another soft laugh. “Fragolina mia,” he says.

“Yes?” You ask.

“You forgot to take the sticker off, my dear.”

“Fuck– I’m sorry,” You immediately apologize, “Shit. It was a bad idea, I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” He stands, gently rolling the store-bought watermelon to the side so he can pull you into his arms. “It was a very sweet gesture, cara.”

You return the hug, burying your face in his chest with relief, “I just… I didn’t want you to be sad.” You admit. “I know it wasn’t the best response but I didn’t know what else to do and–”

You are stopped with a kiss to your forehead and all thought seems to come to a stop, your brain disconnecting from your body. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your hair.

Once again you find your arms tightening around him. “I know it’s not the same, but it’ll still be good. And next year we can plant more!”

There’s a pause and you hold your breath before Secondo nods, “Si, we can plant more next year.”

A smile spreads across your face like sunlight being spun and you try to pull away so you can look at his face but he stops you.

“However, there is one condition, dolcezza.” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice and the second he asks, you know your answer is yes, “Go to dinner with me, si?”

#the band ghost #secondo #ghost band #ghost bc #papa secondo #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo x reader #papa ii #papa 2 #papa emeritus x reader #my fic #commissions

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emeritus-fuckers · 1 year

Note

I just wanna say how much I absolutely ADORE your blog and I've sent in a concerning amount of anon requests 😅 but if you're up for it, any more soft hopeless romantic Terzo headcanons?

I've answered a concerning amount of anon requests, no worries. This blog is like three weeks old and there's a lot of shit already. Mostly because yours truly empties the inbox asap just to whine about being bored later. @hoeforallthepapas can confirm. - Jez

Hopeless romantic Terzo headcanons

I feel like both he and Copia fall into the category of hopeless romantic. The difference is, Copia is awkward and learned most of the things he does from movies while Terzo, ever the spontaneous and flamboyant man, goes all out and uses his own ideas.

Remember the white and pink outfit from He Is?

Yeah, he wears stuff like that a lot, surprisingly. And if he does, it's most likely because he's planning a little surprise for you.

So if you see him in pink, just be prepared.

He's a sucker for setting up a chocolate fountain (that's what they're called, right?), slicing up your favorite fruit and feeding you with his hand.

Loves it if you do the same to him, he always kisses your fingertips.

Slow dances on his balcony as the sun sets and he hums a tune just for the two of you.

There is not a single day that he doesn't give you flowers.

Usually asks Primo for help, since he knows the meaning of each one.

If he's not in the Ministry and he couldn't take you with him, he gets one of his Ghouls to leave the flowers on your bed.

He's pervy, sure, but he also loves to cuddle with you. He loves the feeling of holding you close.

Cardiophilia. Definitely. He loves hearing your heartbeat.

He also loves to hear your soft breathing as you sleep. He's just so enamored with you.

He writes you poetry. Secondo makes fun of him for it.

As corny as it is, he loves walking on the beach with you.

Wouldn't mind some soft sex on the beach, too.

Randomly hugs you and kisses you all over your face for no reason.

He inherited his father's Simp Gaze™. He could look at you for hours.

If you ever get pregnant, he loses it.

Worships the air you breathe and the ground you walk on.

You have to physically pull him away from your stomach because he absolutely will not leave it alone.

It's his baby in there! It's a little human that's half him and half you! He's completely in love!

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #ask #firefirevampire #papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader

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revelisms · 1 month

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What's your personal favorite headcanon you've thought of and why?

Oh man, it's genuinely tough to pick a favorite - I love getting to piecemeal character concepts together, and lots of those HCs are special just in that respect, as they all tend to anchor on specific traits that I find interesting to write (speech, gait, emotional reactiveness, head voice vs. spoken voice, scent profile, fashion tastes, what animal/element/etc. they're associated with...the drawer is overflowing. It's a problem 🥲)

The one Ghost headcanon I've been toying with a lot recently (and that I personally love the idea of) is that all the Papas have magical abilities, and corresponding tattoos that are only visible when their spells are being cast.

I'm a sucker for magic anything, so that's partly why it's a favorite, but I also love the dual-edgedness of it: that it's something hidden, and seen by only a select few, and in that way very intrinsic to each of them.

The tattoos, and magic as a whole, also have direct correlations with their auras and how another spellcaster might see them, e.g.:

Primo's is a dark plum, almost indigo, with an autumnal chill. His spells smell like smoke and musk, and a touch of floral decay. It's unsettling to be around - just as he sometimes can be, in the right light. His tattoos primarily crest over his shoulders and arms, and end at his palms.

Secondo's is a bright, bluish sort of seafoam, and it feels heavy, even electric, the way ozone changes the feeling of air before a storm. His spells have a petrichor-like quality about them, and a trace of cypress. His tattoos are congregated largely at his back, spreading out from his spine.

Terzo's is an orangey, snapdragon-like pink: warm as a pyre and prickled as a bed of thorns. His spells have a tang of clove, incense, and an almost bloody, metallic edge. His tattoos largely follow his heartlines: branching out from his sternum and shoulders to the underside of his arms, and curving down his waist and thighs.

Copia's is a visceral, glaring red, the kind that is almost difficult to stare at too deeply, with hints of tiger's eye gold. The first thing any seer will notice is its omnipresence, which feels smothering, and in many cases frightful to sense in a single man. It smells like that herbal sweetness of crushed leaves, and a hint of woodsmoke. His tattoos cover his arms, most of his chest, and portions of his neck.

I've realized that all of these ideas are steadily morphing into how I write these characters in a scene, so it just...feels like a crux of them all, at this point. But I think it's a fun concept :-)

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deetz-ghuleh · 1 year

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Little known fact: Secondo's other color is pink. He's really just a baby girl, and he loves sweet-smelling bubble baths.

#i will die on this hill #fight me #and he plays with the bubbles

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ghuleh-recs · 6 months

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It's @leezlelatch's birthday!! To celebrate, I put together a list of some of her greatest hits (in my humble opinion). I need to point out that it is taking every ounce of self-control I have not to just recommend everything she has ever written. If you want to read about sexy papas with FEELINGS, look no further. She writes some of the best Copia (emotional) hurt/comfort I have ever read. Her writing never fails to have me kicking my feet and blushing (and sometimes crying lol). Happy Birthday Leez!! Thank you for sharing your gorgeous words with us!

recs under the cut.

Brightness at the Heart of My Love - Copia x Reader

Nervous about your first time together, Cardinal Copia invites you to dinner.

Copia is quiet for several seconds, prompting you to look back up at him from your plate. He’s smiling very softly, cheeks tinted pink. There’s a sweetness to his gaze that halts your every thought, dazzled by him. There is something about Copia that is so…lovely. His features are harsh at times, stern and shadowed. Like a wraith, he passes through the hallways of the Ministry at twilight, swathed in the black of his cassock. When he dons the crimson cassock, he looks more like red death stalking abroad than the temperate Cardinal you’ve come to cherish. Little does the congregation know that he enjoys the serenity of the gardens before dark. That he often sneaks off to the kitchens for a sweet or to “borrow” some blueberries for his rats. That he’s never seen the movie Titanic because he knows he’ll bawl his eyes out. When he smiles, you understand what love is. Copia is the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

The World We Knew - Terzo x Reader

You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die.

Nave of Hearts - Secondo x Reader

Do you believe in love at first sight? Secondo didn't, until he saw you.

Sitting at the very end of a pew, several rows back, you catch his cold stare, nod your head, and smile. Secondo’s fingers dig into the arm of his chair to prevent them from clasping at his chest as his heart begins a frenetic beat against his ribs. His eyes widen, his jaw clenches, and he stares at you so intently, Secondo is sure that you’ll be frightened away by the madness of his expression. Would the Brother sitting next to you catch the menacing glare of the former Papa and warn you away? Away from the angry, bitter old man who stalks the halls in his retirement. You tilt your head slightly and widen your eyes in a similar manner, a playful smirk on your lips, and Secondo must have made a noise because Terzo glances over at him with a raised brow. The chapel is so bright suddenly, color exploding across the dark paraments and pews. The sun winks off the silver chalice on the altar, watering Secondo’s eyes. The air is clear, and he breathes deeply, overcome by the sudden and desperate need to know everything about you.

Alyssum - Primo x Reader

Life with Primo is a beautiful story told through flowers.

“Alyssum,” Primo’s warmly accented voice sends a butterfly fluttering about your stomach, and you turn to watch as he takes off his soil-stained gloves, laying them casually to the side. “Worth beyond beauty. And you, my petal, are worth far more than any flower I have ever grown.” His lips twitch with a smile. “Sì, you are beautiful as well. Perhaps tomorrow will be purple heather.”

Just a Nibble - Secondo x Reader

Nights with Papa Emeritus II are always interesting.

“Just there, amore,” Secondo sighs, relaxing into the heating pad with a soft groan. You ensure the warmth is placed right along his lower back comfortably so he can rest against the pillows in the shared afterglow of your lovemaking. “Grazie, grazie. Now come to your Papa.” “Come to your Papa, come for your Papa,” you muse with a teasing grin. “So demanding these days, Secondo.” You slide under the covers next to him and squeak with surprise as he hooks an arm around your waist and drags you across the sheets to nestle against his side.

Lust in Your Eyes - Copia x Reader

The Cardinal waits for you in your room…but sometimes, he's impatient.

Abandoning the shelf of records, he sits down on your bed, running his hand across the comforter. With a sigh, Copia falls back, closing his eyes as your scent envelopes him. He turns on his side and follows the pattern of the bedspread with a single finger, a crooked smile on his lips as he thinks about the very naughty things the two of you have gotten up to in this very bed. He turns his nose into the soft material, taking a deep breath, his mouth falling open slightly. He turns onto his stomach, drawing his legs up as he skims the tip of his nose across the length of the bed, crawling forward until he reaches your pillow.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

(I think it would be such a nice birthday gift for you to leave a comment on any of these, don't you?)

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