Ghost BC Headcanons and Oneshots!

Papas + Copia HC - Cheating, Mistresses

Papa II: Party boy settled down. And he was good at it. So good at it. He tried so hard every day to do the right thing, for her, it became second nature. There was something about her, all those years ago: something in her smile, or her eyes, or the way she spoke to him, it made him want to be a better man. So he cleaned up his act: nothing but beer, no girls in his phone, no late nights, no missed calls. A nice modest house in a nice modest neighborhood. Nothing could make him change his ways like the love of a good woman, or the touch of a woman who bites her lip when she looks at him - there was something about her, but god, there's something about you. You never talk about it - and I mean never -, he doesn't say her name or talk about his life outside of how you know him or try to justify his actions to you. You know. He needs someone he doesn't have to be good for. Someone he doesn't have to try so hard around. Someone he doesn't have to love and someone he doesn't have to be terrified of hating. Someone who doesn't love him. You know. You two fuck whenever you see each other, in closets, in bathrooms, his office, your apartment, and he never gets caught. She never has a clue, whether you continue the affair until the three of you die or one of you hates the other and you end it. He was so good for her it became second nature, but always second, because love will never come close to the warm fuzzy euphoria of getting away with a lie. No ones heart ever breaks, but no one is ever really happy anyways. In his eyes, he's the only one losing, because what you don't know can't hurt you, and he won't let himself forget how good it feels to be loved and how good it feels to fuck someone else.

Papa III: He doesn't think about it. He can't. He loves her so much. He got everything he wanted, really, he did. The perfect woman, a beautiful wedding, the love he dreamed about since he was a boy. Oh, caramia, the fun they had. Where did it go? he wonders, sitting with her at the breakfast table while he reads the paper and she reads the back of the cereal box. They used to race downstairs to make each other breakfast every morning. Where did it go? he wonders while they're sitting in the lounge after days end watching game shows on mute because she's reading a book and he said a long time ago he's fine with reading subtitles. They never used to be able to make it through a whole episode without touching each other. But you. He didn't even realize his eyes were wandering until he saw them touch your hips, until he felt you kiss his cheek, until he knew that wherever he went he wanted to take you. You knew from the start that he was married, but if he promised never to call you her name you promised to never let him read the paper. So every second of every day he spent thinking about you, and sneaking to the bathroom to text you, sneaking out at night and driving all the way across town just to kiss your cheek and get home before she woke up. You can't text first, you can't call first, but it only makes it sweeter when those "Can't talk, just wanted to say I was thinking about you and I'm so excited to see you later" texts come through in the middle of the day. "later" was the trip he took you on to Miami that he promised her was for business. You love him so much you'll take whatever he gives and never ask for more, and he loves you so much he'll give anything and the world. You're just so much fun, my darling. You brought me back to life, my sweetness. Let's never go home, my love.

Cardinal Copia: This isn't fun anymore, he tells you. Who said anything about fun, you tell him. He loves her, and their life, and he would never in a million years cheat. He would never. He's not that guy. He's not a bad man, darling, don't you see? He would never do anything to hurt her. It was a drunk mistake. Mistake Mistake Mistake. He says it so often that every time he goes into the washroom to take her calls you barely manage to stop crying by the time he gets back. Whenever he's not looking you have to let a little bit of it out so you don't explode. A mistake he keeps making every single fucking day. He loves you in the most torturous cruel and disgusting way. You love him in a way that makes your insides soft like moldy fruit. You agree, it was a mistake. Him letting you fall in love with him is the worst thing anyone has ever done to you - but you keep answering his late night calls, and you keep letting him upstairs, and you keep telling yourself one day you'll win the competition she doesn't know she's part of, because the sound of his laughter makes your bed warmer, and his smile makes his eyes glossy, and when he says her name when he tells stories about their life you close your eyes and picture he's talking about you instead. Every time your phone rings your heart soars, and every time he leaves your bed you cry yourself to sleep. You're like heroin, he says, I hate you but I can't quit because I love you. For some reason this doesn't hurt as bad because at least he said he loves you out loud. Usually he just says "me too". You are like cult leader kool-aid, you think, but never say out loud, I knew you were going to kill me but I still keep sipping. You think that, and you think, if I was her and I saw those pictures of us I would beat you to death with a tire iron. You are the worst man I've ever met. Please call me before you fall asleep.