#wrote this with the sheer love I harbor for the Papa’s big noses

[itsbeesknees]

The Old Man is Snoring

Any Papa x GN!reader

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Summary: There is a monster in your bed, and it’s making the most decrepit noises.

Warnings: none, just fluff and crack

Word count: 644

A/N: this drabble is dedicated to all the Papas noses

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You are 99.9% certain there is some sort of monster in your bed.

You’re not surprised, of course— why would you be? You spend the majority of your time worshiping the devil at black encrusted altars, and Ghouls prowl the Ministry on the daily, so the probability of a monster being in your bed isn’t too outlandish. Though, last time you checked, monsters are meant to lurk under the bed, not on top of it.

Silk linens are the only thing that’s keeping you safe from this beast. Which is rather unfortunate, since you’re not entirely sure that a thin layer of buttery fabric is a good enough barricade. The duvet would’ve been a much more reliable option, but that had been kicked down onto the floor during your few hours of untroubled sleep. Curse your rotten luck.

The monster breathes sharply through its nose and you freeze up like a half-wit. By Satan is it loud. When you first had woken up you almost mistook it for a chainsaw, with gears and motors rattling. But it was not a chainsaw, and possibly not human either, because nothing skulking this earth should sound like that.

Is this how Theseus felt? Twisting and turning in a maze, haunted by a beast. Was this monstrosity your Minotaur?

You have the good grace to snort at that, because you are not Theseus.

When Theseus was confronted with danger, it was not in a plush mattress cocooned by fancy sheets. When Theseus slayed the beast, he did so bravely and without faltering. Theseus was heroic, Theseus was gifted a fictional magic thread, and you didn’t possess either of those things.

These kinds of thoughts should honestly be completely redundant, as you are an adult now who is perfectly capable of confronting the heaving creature that’s hogging up most of your pillows. Yes, now is the time to be the knight galloping on a horse, charging onwards into battle. You may not be Theseus, but you can surely act like him.

So you whip your body over to face the thunderous beast, squaring your shoulders and sucking in a fierce breath. You have every intention of slaying the fire-spitting, scaley green dragon. Surely confident that they’d hang your title in the great halls of fame after you conquer such a chilling creature..

You didn’t get that far.

Because, when you finally got a look at the monster, the beast, the dragon, the love of your life, you felt the thorns that guarded your heart shrivel and wither away. He was no creature, just an irritating snorer, who was generally well intentioned.

He did fall asleep in his papal paints again, which perhaps made him look a little bit more cryptic than usual, with all that smudged pigment and whatnot. But regardless, he was your papa, not a monster, and he desperately needed the sleep. Way more than you.

So, gallantly, you trade a moment of dragon-slaying for a moment of peace, resting your head on his chest and listening to the pumping of his heart. Occasionally, another snore will trickle out, sometimes even louder than the one before, yet you pay it no mind.

And when he finally wakes, fluttering open his bicolored watery eyes, you greet him with a tired smile and a sweet kiss to his nose; the culprit of your horrors.

“Did I keep you up with my snoring again, amore?” He asks, blinking blearily and tracing shapeless patterns into the sides of your arm.

“No.” You say, flinching at how groggy your voice sounds. “But I think there was a monster in our bed last night, you should’ve heard it. I almost mistook it for a chainsaw.”

Your beloved pauses, processing the meaning of your words, before recoiling in mock offense as if you had sucker punched him straight in the gut. Then, he promptly pulls you closer, and kisses you in all his morning-breath glory.

—o—