#Cardinal copia fluff

[bitemefightme]

*deep breath*

Touch starved reader who subconsciously leans into Copia's hands whenever he "casually" touches them. They don't realize how much they've needed another humans touch until they come in with a new hair cut and Copia makes a big deal of fluffing it and running his fingers through it, gushing about how cute the style looks on them, eventually letting his hands cup their face and they've absolutely melted into his touches. Eyes fluttering closed and little groan/whimper sneaking out and Copia doesn't mind one bit. And maybe the day gets derailed a little because he just spends hours with their head in his lap, running his hands through their hair and up and down their back, silently chuckling to himself at the way they arch into his touch like a cat, but he doesn't care because it's just so cute and relaxing for both of them.

[thorxthunder]

Copia with an S/O who has a fear of abandonment?

AHHH THIS IS MY FIRST GHOST FANFIC!!!

 thank you so much for requesting this and please, to anyone reading, please request more Ghost fics! I write for everyone (Papas,Ghouls,Sister Imperator)! ilygsm 🤍

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

To The Ocean (Cardinal Copia x G/N Reader)

tags: fear of abandonment, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, Copia being a sweetheart, poorly translated Italian (it wouldn’t be a ghost fic without it)

Word Count: 2.4k

You possess an astute observant nature that never fails to pick up on various things in your life. This keen perception has both positive and negative aspects, especially in a relationship with Copia. The bond between you and Copia has evolved to a point where you can understand each other's thoughts and emotions without verbal communication. While this unspoken connection is a beautiful aspect of your relationship, it also comes with challenges. There are times when important conversations remain unspoken, and certain matters that demand acknowledgment and expression are left hanging in the air, longing to be addressed and heard.

Like now. The signs of something bothering Copia become quite evident to you through his telltale actions. When he rolls his hair between his fingers or nervously taps his foot on the floor, it's a clear indication of his inner unrest. Even more obvious is the way he’s gazing out of the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts. During these moments, it's as if he retreats to a far-off place within himself, contemplating the vast expanse of the sky.

Though he remains quiet during these contemplative moments, his emotional turmoil is anything but subtle to you. It's akin to observing a restless bird in a cage, anxiously fluttering about and repeatedly bumping into the metal bars, desperately trying to find a way out of its confinements. Despite his attempts to mask his feelings, you feel the restlessness and unease that reside within him, yearning to be understood and acknowledged. It's evident that he struggles to communicate these thoughts and emotions, making it all the more important for you to be receptive and offer him the comfort and support he needs to open up.

You find yourself grappling with a familiar fear, one that you've carried with you for a long time — the fear that the people you love will inevitably leave you. This feeling has been deeply ingrained in your thoughts, and it makes you hesitant to confront Copia about what's going on with him. You can't help but hold onto that gut feeling, despite the connection you share with him and the trust you place in him.

Inwardly, you struggle with feelings of inadequacy, believing that you have little to offer Copia in the face of life's uncertainties. You recognize that you don't possess the power to control his destiny, the inevitable grip of loneliness, the unpredictability of illness, or the finality of death. These factors are beyond your control, leaving you feeling vulnerable and helpless.

Yet, even in the midst of your anxieties, you trust Copia wholeheartedly, entrusting him with your life and even your mortality. However, a looming thought hangs over you. A feeling of if he were not Papa and had chosen a different path as a member of the clergy, your lives might have taken a different turn and he would never be yours.

Despite your fear, you gather the courage to inquire about Copia's well-being one day when you notice him drifting away, seemingly lost in his thoughts again. You gently reach out to touch his shoulder, a gesture that has become familiar between you two, and he startles slightly before turning to face you. It's as if he hadn't realized he was daydreaming at all.

Summoning your bravery, you softly ask, "Amo? You alright?" Concern lingers in your voice, hoping to encourage him to open up and share his thoughts, even if you battle your inner reservations about potential heartache and the unknown.

As Copia's eyes soften from his initial surprise, he responds quietly, reassuring you with, "Yes, mio sole. I'm fine."

However, your concern remains evident, and you express your worries about him, frowning slightly. Copia, though initially reluctant, can't help but show signs of something bothering him as he frowns in return and appears on the verge of speaking his mind.

You wait expectantly, your brow creased, encouraging him to share what's troubling him. Copia eventually relents and admits, "It's just that... I... I need to go somewhere for a while."

His words hit you like a sudden shock, almost knocking you back emotionally. You try to maintain your composure, saying nothing, but you hope that your expression reflects the turmoil within you. Your shock leaves you speechless, afraid that if you open your mouth, you might reveal your pain in a painfully desperate manner. The temptation to ask, "Why are you leaving me?" or "I can't believe you're doing this," lingers, but you resist, not wanting to push him away further.

Internally, you wrestle with a mix of emotions, feeling your face burning hot with anger and frustration. You despise yourself for the vulnerability you're displaying and for hoping against hope that things might be different this time. You knew deep down that history had a way of repeating itself, and you were once again left behind, watching your loved ones depart from your life. An old and familiar anxiety resurfaces, and a small, resentful voice inside you even tries to convince you that somehow you deserve this outcome.

In the midst of this emotional turmoil, you make a valiant effort to control your reactions, focusing on steady breathing to keep yourself composed. You realize that there's a need to communicate and understand Copia's feelings more deeply, but the fear of being hurt and abandoned once again makes it challenging to find the right words. For now, you do your best to keep your emotions in check, attempting to process the situation before responding further.

Copia's gaze meets yours, and you observe the range of emotions that flicker across your face - from serenity mingled with sadness, to surprise, and finally settling into perplexity. Feeling the mounting turmoil inside, you turn away swiftly, not wanting him to see your vulnerable state, fearing that you might break down or overreact if he lingers too long.

However, Copia is not willing to let you walk away without understanding what's going on. He calls out urgently, "Mio Sole? Mio Sole!" His footsteps close in on you, but you ignore his pleas, determined to create distance between you two. The need to escape, to let Copia see your back for once, drives you forward, even though you're unsure of your destination.

Suddenly, you feel his fingers clutching onto your forearm as he catches up with you. In a surge of emotion, you forcefully pull away with a growl, demanding, "Just go!" Your heart aches with conflicting feelings, torn between wanting him near and pushing him away to protect yourself.

“Y/N! Attendere prego!” Copia desperation is evident as he pleads with you to wait, a side of him you've never witnessed before. It shakes you to your core, causing you to stop abruptly, your whole body tensed with unresolved emotions, fists clenched tightly. He positions himself in front of you, seeking eye contact, but you continue to avert your gaze, feeling a sense of rejection even though you were the one trying to distance yourself.

Despite your efforts to remain strong and detached, his request to look at him strikes a chord. Your jaw remains steeled, but you sense a vulnerability creeping through your defenses. Copia's determination, evident in his slow but firm words, urges you to confront your emotions. Reluctantly, you allow your eyes to meet his, and in that moment, a surge of emotions flows between you, connecting you in a way that neither can deny.

“Per favore, mio sole, perché corri?” As Copia persistently pleads for your attention, you can't ignore him any longer. His 'please' tugs at your heart, causing you to look up and meet his earnest gaze. The moment your eyes connect, your anger begins to fade away, and you're left with a mix of conflicting emotions. It's painful to confront his gaze, as it stirs up a sense of emptiness within you, leaving your mind feeling numb and detached.

Copia's gentle tone attempts to coax you out of your emotional shell, making you feel like a vulnerable creature hiding from the world.

Despite your attempt to push him away, Copia refuses to leave and reaches out to you. Feeling a surge of indignation, you lash out at him, interpreting his desire to go somewhere as a desire to leave you behind once. The thought that he might leave you hurts, and you struggle to voice the true depths of your feelings, afraid of the vulnerability it may expose.

Seeing your anger subside, Copia expresses his genuine intent, reassuring you that leaving you is not what he wants.

As Copia searches for the right words, his eyes take on a wistful expression, indicating the yearning he has to experience the freedom he once knew. “I don’t want to leave you. Why would I want to do that?” Copia starts, and pauses for a moment, glancing away, his hands wringing together as he tries to find his words. “It’s just that.. mi manca... non essere Papa volte. I’m always stuck on a schedule. I’m always doing what other people want me to do. Voglio solo essere libero. It gets so hard sometimes performing when I feel like the only reason I’m doing it is to stay alive. When I wasn’t papa, I could go anywhere I wanted to. The beach, the movies… hell, even a restaurant. Now I’m always on close surveillance. I’m not used to staying in one place for long. È difficile per me.”

Listening to his heartfelt words, you begin to grasp the inner conflict he's facing. Though it doesn't make your hurt feelings disappear completely, you start to understand the complexity of his emotions. Copia's vulnerability opens a window into his struggles, making it more apparent that his desire to escape isn't about leaving you, but rather about finding a sense of liberation from the weight of his responsibilities as Papa.

In the wake of your emotional outburst, you find yourself feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

It's not really about me at all, is it? How did I make this about me?

You’re almost ebarrassed by Copia's honesty and ashamed that your insecurities were so glaringly obvious. You're genuinely upset for Copia, realizing that you jumped to conclusions without fully understanding his perspective.

"I mean..I'm…an idiot”

Copia smirks at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Probabilmente." He brings his hands up, holding your face between them, his thumbs stroking your temples lightly. His expression turns serious again.

"Mio Sole, I'm sorry you feel that I may leave you at any moment. But I promise you this: Lo non ti lascerò mai. I've been alive for a long time, and nothing has ever made me as happy as being with you does. Sei molto importante per me. Ho bisogno di te... davvero." Copia's fierce gaze softens, and he leans in, placing his lips gently on your forehead in an unadorned, reverent show of affection.

You gasp in a small, shaky breath, blushing fiercely once again. Your eyes feel strangely wet.

"This is too much. I don't deserve any of this," you express, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of his love and the depth of your emotions.

“Ti meriti il ​​mondo e altro ancora. niente ci separerà. Nemmeno la morte. Quando verrà il nostro momento, gioiremo nell'aldilà. Niente brilla come te.” Copia's touch and words reassure you, but the weight of your insecurities still lingers. You can't help but wonder how someone like him could care so deeply for someone like you. In this vulnerable moment, you find solace in his embrace, cherishing the connection you share and hoping that, somehow, you can learn to accept and reciprocate the love he offers.

Copia's words cut through the walls you've built around your heart, reaching somewhere raw and vulnerable inside you. Despite your difficulty in accepting kindness and affection, his impassioned gaze holds you in place, leaving you feeling both small and humbled. The intensity of his love leaves you at a loss for words, and you can only respond in the way you know how: with a tender kiss that speaks volumes of your feelings.

As your lips meet Copia's, the sweetness and warmth of the moment envelop you both. When you finally part, you find him smiling at you, his face radiating adoration and joy. His expression tugs at your heartstrings, causing it to do a little flip flop. You're filled with overwhelming love for this man in your arms, grateful that Lucifer brought Copia into your life, even if it was initially just a calculated match by the ministry. What you share with him is true love and adoration, something his brothers may have never experienced with their prime movers.

Feeling a newfound sense of hope and security, you realize that Copia is here of his own accord, choosing to be with you, and it’s for good.

"Hey, come back here." Copia playfully taps your forehead, bringing you back to the present. “What I meant was, I want to go somewhere with you. I’m just restless.. Ho bisogno di viaggiare di nuovo. Ma voglio che sia con te.”

“Of course, Amo... Where do you wanna go?”

“To a lake or the ocean, I think. I miss the water.”

"Okay," you respond, your heart swelling with happiness at the thought of embarking on this journey with Copia, exploring new places, and sharing unforgettable experiences together.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Mio Sole: My Sunshine

Amo: Love

Attendere prego: Please wait

Per favore, mio sole, perché corri?: Please, my sunshine, why are you running?

mi manca... non essere Papa volte: I miss… not being Papa sometimes.

Voglio solo essere libero: I just want to be free

È difficile per me: It’s difficult for me.

Probabilmente: Probably

Lo non ti lascerò mai: I will never leave you

Sei molto importante per me. Ho bisogno di te... davvero: You are very important to me. I need you…truly.

Ti meriti il ​​mondo e altro ancora. niente ci separerà. Nemmeno la morte. Quando verrà il nostro momento, gioiremo nell'aldilà. Niente brilla come te: You deserve the world and more. nothing will separate us. Not even death. When our time comes, we will rejoice in the afterlife. Nothing shines like you.

Ho bisogno di viaggiare di nuovo. Ma voglio che sia con te: I need to travel again. But I want it to be with you.

[damienisweird]

I love this it's so cute and fluffy. Aahhh i love them so much, thank you so much for writing this :D

a message from the bulletin board | cardinal copia x gn!reader

summary: the ministry’s bulletin board, ordinarily used for missing items or party announcements, contains a particularly interesting request this week – a lonely hearts ad.

content: 9k words, gn!reader, slightly suggestive at times, first date/first kiss shenanigans, sad lonely awkward cardinal fluff, you know the drill

Masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦

You ignore the knot of people in front of the bulletin board.

As much as the whispers and giggles garner your attention, someone else attracts it even more. Cardinal Copia, red cassock, red biretta, arms filled with two boxes worth of files and papers, is trying to push the door to his office open with his hip under a swell of Italian curses. Certainly, his hip swing is impressive on most days, especially on stage, but today it seems more like a helpless, uncoordinated bumping that the door is fighting with every ounce of its wooden strength.

Evidently, he’s struggling.

“Good morning, Cardinal, do you need a hand?”

His eyebrows shoot up when he hears your voice and he stops dead in his tracks, slowly turning his head until he catches you standing right behind him. Despite your announcement, he visibly startles, nearly dropping the boxes in his arms.

“Oh, eh… yes, if you could open the door for me, Sibling?”

“Of course.”

With your hand on the knob, you watch as he hurries inside of his office, wheezing under the weight and dropping the boxes onto his desk with a dull thud that echoes loudly in his mostly bare working space. Apart from books upon books strewn across and around his desk as well as an old weathered couch, there hasn’t been any love put into decorating the space. You wait patiently for him to turn back around to you, a hint of red dusting his cheeks when he finally does.

“Thank you,” he squeezes out, trying very hard to swallow his heavy exhales. “I carried them here all the way from the archives. Long way, you know, even for my…” He holds up his arm, flexing it exaggeratedly. “My strong, powerful muscles.”

You giggle and he perks up in delight, eyes wide and shiny. “No problem, Cardinal, I can imagine they’re very heavy.��� 

You smile at him and he smiles back, so sweetly, and you’re momentarily at an equal loss for words. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, down the prominent bridge of his nose. He brushes it away with a leather-gloved hand and you can’t help but stare as he wipes it clean on the heavy fabric of his vestments, shaking out his fingers once he’s done. You can’t look away as they flex and release, flex and release. They’re surprisingly long and so… nimble.

Copia’s violent cough startles you awake and you’re not sure if it’s his own nerves that make him clear his throat, if his overexerted lungs are protesting or if he caught you staring. Either way, you feel your own cheeks getting hot now, the moment of hesitant silence slowly transitioning into a gooey sort of awkwardness.

“So, ugh… I better get back to my own duties,” you say. “Lots to do, spring cleaning and all that.”

He nods. “Yes, yes, you are busy, of course. Such a busy little bee. Bzz bzz. Hehe.”

You awkwardly giggle back, trying hard to think of a clever joke. Maybe something that has to do with stinging? But before you can settle on one, the time for a witty come-back has stretched thin and so you just awkwardly wave at him, mutter a “see you later” and close the door.

With your back pressed to the wood, you let out a deep exhale, the butterflies – or bees – in your stomach making it very hard to breathe at a normal pace. Once you’ve recollected your wits, you notice that the hallway is still as busy as before, maybe even busier.

Like lions gathering around an animal carcass after days of starvation, what feels like half the abbey has been flocking to the big rectangular corkboard. You cannot possibly imagine what would warrant such intense interest. The most exciting messages on any given day are unusual sex requests, the invitation to a weirdly themed party or a call for applications to a particularly intricate sex ritual to honour the Dark One.

You push through the crowd to check what’s causing the repeated giggling and excited whispers amongst your peers when you spot a pristine piece of paper on the board. It’s thick, stark-white, shaped like a heart at the top and with pieces to rip off at the bottom that contain a phone number. You squint, move in even closer until you can make out the text – hand-written and in cursive.

I (m, 50) am looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t have any preferences but it would be coolio if we had similar interests, so we can have some fun together.

I like: watching movies, playing video games, going on walks, rigatoni, juice, small animals

I don’t like: coconut flavour, being barefoot, swimming, touching wet dishes, bullies, dentist appointments

If you think we are a good match I would like to take you on a romantic date. Please call or text me.  Bye bye!

You smile at the note but quickly find back down to earth when someone rams their elbow into your side. No one has taken one of the numbers yet, so you assume the excitement is more about the fact that there is a lonely hearts ad on the bulletin board at all than any actual interest in the person. You have to admit, it is a bit odd. Most younger clergy members just use dating apps these days or social media. But the lonely heart in question is fifty, so they may not be familiar with modern methods, and it’s oddly endearing that anyone would go through the trouble of creating such an ad. At the same time, it breaks your heart that someone in the abbey is so lonely that they risk the ridicule of half of the clergy members just to have a chance at finding love.

“Well, there are a bunch of people who it could be,” you overhear someone say. “Maybe one of the older Brothers, a bunch of them are single. Could also be that new bishop who just arrived, I heard he’s a cinephile and walks around the gardens quite often.”

You ignore the whispers of speculation, making your way back through the crowd to return to your duties. It’s almost dinner time by now and you need to get two more loads of laundry done before then. But even as you sort through piles of habits, cassocks and veils… you can’t stop thinking about the ad. You sincerely hope the person receives a few serious and not just prank calls. The note did sound endearing and you definitely see similarities. At the same time you’re far too busy nursing your hopeless crush on the Cardinal to actually entertain the thought of dating someone else. 

You decide to check on the ad again tomorrow, see if anyone took a number, and if not, you could at least save it to your phone… just in case.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Two birds land on his window sill, rubbing their beaks together in a kiss before happily chirping at each other. They’re in love, literal love birds, building a nest on the little protrusion in the wall right below his window. He’s been watching them occasionally, unreasonably envious, as they bring in twig after twig, ready to start their family. From the same window, Copia can make out the spring-filled gardens with their colourful patches of pink and red tulips, bumblebees hurrying from blossom to blossom, drunk on pollen and greedy for more. He can overlook the bright green meadow leading down to the pond, speckled with lush, budding trees. At this time of the day, after everyone finished their daily duties, the grass has almost completely disappeared under a plethora of picnic blankets.

Spring fever, he assumes, has to be the reason why everyone seems to be in love. Couples dozing in each other’s arms in the shade of the trees, feeding their lovers berries or grapes, taking a stroll down to the pond with their joined hands dangling between them, kissing without pause in the archways of the cool stone walkways leading outside. Just now he spots two Sisters rubbing sunscreen on each other’s bare shoulders, one of them kissing the other's head before they fall back onto their blanket, giggling happily at each other.

He feels so incredibly lonely.

This has been going on for weeks now and he’s tired of feeling so shamefully worthless of affection. Instead of the arms of his lover, he sinks into his tattered old desk chair and drowns his sorrows in boring paperwork. Not that that’s going well, but for lack of alternatives, he’d rather do budget calculations than sit in his quarters all alone. Every evening, the spring breeze carries the sound of happy laughter through his windows, usually while he’s playing video games all by himself, but he can’t keep them closed if he doesn’t want to sweat to death. Besides… that same gentle breeze is the only thing caressing his skin as he tries to fall asleep at night and if he closes his eyes, the wind almost feels like fingertips ghosting over his arms.

As he leaves his office that night, he receives another heavy but sadly much expected blow. Almost a week now and still no one has taken one of the numbers from his lonely hearts ad. Of course it doesn’t mean no one saved it to his phone, he tells himself, people are shy or they just don’t want to date an anonymous person. It has nothing to do with him, they don’t even know it’s him. And yet… if his dating streak continues so poorly, he’s not sure if he can stay sane for much longer. There are only so many tears you can cry in bed at night before it starts to take a toll on you.

His heart is especially heavy as he makes his way to his lonely quarters. One more day and then he’s taking it down, he decides. No use in waiting any longer now that surely everyone in the abbey has seen his request and the last thing he wants are pity calls.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

“So, are you going to call the Cardinal?”

You look up from your breakfast plate. Your friend Lily is sitting opposite of you, chewing on a blueberry muffin, and you narrow your eyes at her. “The Cardinal?”

“The number in the lonely hearts ad,” she says. “It’s still there, I checked earlier.”

“It’s the Cardinal?”

She nods, popping another piece of muffin into her mouth. “Duh.”

You feel your cheeks heating up and set your fork down to hide the sudden tremor in your fingers. “Which Cardinal?”

She gives a soft groan of annoyance. “Babe, there is only one of the Cardinals who would ever hang up such a goofy thing. Now, will you call him?”

Copia. She knows about your… slight infatuation with him. And despite being kind and not teasing you too much, it was just a matter of time until the occasion popped up. If he is looking for a serious partner… maybe it’s too late for you soon. The ad has been up for days and while you’ve been toying with the idea of calling, you just haven’t found the courage yet.

You continue eating, trying to act casual, but it takes you three attempts to pick up a stray piece of cucumber from your plate. “How do you even know it’s his number?”

Lily takes a deep breath, setting the muffin down to ready herself. “Sooo, Michael wanted to call the number to check who it is, right? Well, turns out his girlfriend already knew it’s the Cardinal’s number and his girlfriend is Sister Jill who knows it from Sister Mary who is roommates with Sibling Jessie who works with the treasury and their colleague Brother Paul works as the Cardinal’s assistant two times a week and that’s how he has the Cardinal’s number for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now, will you?”

Eyes on your empty plate, you bite your lip until you can taste blood. It’s Copia’s number, the number of your crush of about six months now, and he’s looking for a partner, unspecified. That’s… big news, intimidating news, news that calls to an action you’re not sure you’re prepared for.

Glancing at Lily, you catch her smirking at you and promptly give her a scowl. “I don’t know. What if he already got better options?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Better than you? I doubt it.”

“You’re biased because you’re my friend.”

A shrug. “You should try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He could be disappointed.”

“He’s more disappointed if no one calls,” she counters.

“Yeah but–”

You stop yourself when you see Nora, Lily’s girlfriend, approaching the table. Her arms wrap around Lily from behind as she presses a loud, lingering kiss to her cheek, both of them giggling.

“You scared me,” Lily says, turning around for a proper kiss.

“Sorry, love, but I can’t leave breakfast without my sweet treat.”

You avert your gaze, involuntarily feeling like an intruder. They’ve been together for a few weeks now, sickeningly adorable. Lily had been pining after Nora for months, a little bit like you with the Cardinal, only that she eventually found the courage to ask her out. To see her bravery being rewarded like that makes you incredibly happy for both of them. But at the same time… you have rarely ever felt your loneliness so sharply, the heaviness of your unreciprocated crush such a weight on your shoulders.

You know that if you want this to be you and the Cardinal, then there’s only one real answer to her question: You have to reach out to him.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

He’s ready to toss this day into the trash bin already and he only just got up. 

Last night, after tossing and turning for hours, Copia fell asleep only to promptly land in a hysterically embarrassing dream that made him jolt up whimpering like a kicked dog and hiding his face in the pillow. Bringing himself close to suffocation, he finally realised that he had not actually stumbled right in front of you, spilling juice all over his robes, scrambling to get up only to slip in the puddle by his feet, falling onto his butt with a high-pitched cry. You had been standing there motionless, watching the spectacle unfold until you turned around to leave.

This is the reaction he would expect, should he ever actually find the courage to ask you out. However, this is highly doubtful, because upon walking to his office half an hour later, he catches you with a group of friends. He often sees you with them – attractive young Siblings, evident chemistry between all of you, and every week he suspects a different one to be in love with you. He recognizes the two Sisters he saw from his window earlier this week. One of them presses a loving kiss to the other’s cheek and he wishes he could just walk up to you and do the same.

His heart hurts. No matter how much kindness you extend to him, you’re a beautiful young soul who could never be romantically interested in an aging loner. Copia is not disliked per se, he gets along with pretty much everyone, but he struggles to build meaningful connections. Between working his butt off to satisfy the clergy and spending time on his mostly solitary hobbies, it’s hard to meet people. He had to actively put himself out there but neither online dating nor any of the singles’ events Terzo sent him on brought any results – only what the young Siblings call getting “ghosted” or “benched”.

His ad is his last chance. And even that failed miserably.

As he ponders his options, your eyes suddenly meet his and he swears you’re smiling. Then you lift your hand in a cautious wave. For a second, he’s too scared to wave back because there are people around him, all of which could be your target. Your hand sinks after a moment as your smile slowly straightens and he suddenly knows that you do mean him. He lifts his hand far too excitedly in a reciprocative wave. Your smile returns, a shy one, but before he can even think about possibly approaching you, his knees suddenly give out.

No, they don’t give out, someone rams a trolly filled with supplies for Black Mass into him. Some of the tall candles roll off the top and clatter to the floor, breaking in half just like his dignity. 

“Oops, sorry, Cardinal,” the Sibling says, scrambling to help him up. “It’s so hard to steer this thing.”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, the pain in his knees anything but fine. “It happens.”

“I’m truly so sorry.”

He smiles, a hand on their shoulder now that he’s on his feet again. “It is okay, eh? No worries.”

When his eyes try to find you again, you’re not there anymore and he can’t decide if he’s relieved or sad. He prays to Satan that you didn’t see him fall but there is no way you missed it. His dream, if slightly watered-down, did come true after all and perhaps now you won’t want to–

“Cardinal, are you alright?” 

Copia, still dizzy and skittish, spins around so hard he nearly stumbles again. He smooths out his now crumpled cassock, the dust he collected on the floor even more visible on today’s black vestments. In an attempt to retain his dignity, he straightens his spine and looks right into your beautiful eyes. You have a tendency to startle him like that and he wishes he could be more smooth about these encounters.

“Yes, yes, Sibling, thank you. It was… it was nothing, just a little stumble, eh?”

“Are you sure?” You inspect him from head to toe, your brow creased in concern. “It looked painful. Your knees…”

“Oh, my knees are fine!” he lies. “I kneel all the time, Sibling. You know this.” Your eyes widen and he continues to stammer. “I mean in prayer. I pray a lot. On my knees. I am a Cardinal, yes? It’s my job.”

 You nod heavily. “Yes, of course.”

“So, ugh… I better just fuck off.” He presses his lips together to keep more silly words from coming out. “I mean I’ll go back to work. ”

As he tries to leave, your hand shoots up, squeezing the muscles in his forearm. He’s not as much startled as enthralled by your touch, so unexpected that he has no time to feel insecure but so welcome that it almost feels natural to have your fingers on his arm. He swears there is a hint of nervousness in your eyes now and despite knowing it’s silly, his heart wants to interpret it as bashfulness.

“Cardinal, please. I… ugh…” 

You look beautiful from up close. Even if you weren’t stuttering he’d have a hard time listening to your words. It seems like you stopped breathing, your cheeks now a sweet shade of rosy, and you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Eventually, you shake your head and run your fingers over the fabric of his sleeve. He thinks he’s about to pass out, his nerves rising until he can feel his heartbeat all the way up to his neck. Your hand is so gentle, so… affectionate.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I don’t mean to keep you. I was just thinking that I really like the black cassock. It suits you.”

A compliment. His mind is racing. This is not what you really wanted to say, he can tell, but he grins anyway. You like his cassock? Well, you should wait until you see him in a suit. Maybe on a date. He should ask, he realises. This is the moment he’s been waiting for for months now. But as he continues to stare at you his tongue becomes too heavy to form the words, and then your hand is suddenly gone and takes his courage right with it.

“Thank you, Sibling,” he says instead. “I also really like your ugh… your outfit.”

Only when the words leave his mouth does he realise it’s the same everyday habit you’re wearing all the time. Somehow, the silly compliment still manages to conjure a smile onto your face and so he stops berating himself because he made you smile. The sight stuns him, butterflies erupting in his already nervous stomach.

“I’ll see you later, Cardinal,” you say then, your eyes leaving his to glance down the hallway where your friends are waiting, beckoning for you to hurry.

Copia nods and he looks down at your hand in silent fascination, staring at your fingers that are dangling by your thigh without any use as if he could magically make them touch his arm again. “Yes, yes. See you,” he mumbles. “Bye bye.”

When he looks back up, you’re already hurrying off. Copia stays frozen, his gaze trailing after you as though his eyes are glued to your form. Even when you’re out of sight it takes him a while to start moving, to start breathing again.

Around him, the hallway slowly empties as everyone starts to tend to their respective duties. Copia can’t help but feel the nagging disappointment about not asking you out. A chance like this won’t suddenly appear again and even if you refused him it would still be less humiliating than the untouched ad at the bulletin board. He should take it off right now, he figures.

Only when he enters the hallway leading to his office, something looks off about the postings. He notices the change from the corner of his eye at first as he walks past the large corkboard. More party flyers have appeared, someone took down the “diamond butt plug set missing” request that had been hanging there since an orgy in the Siblings’ wing went wrong last month. Instead, Copia notices a large poster promoting condom usage that partly covers the request underneath. Which is how he recognises it.

His ad. 

And one of the numbers is missing.

Copia nearly lets out a loud squeal as realisation dawns on him like the gentle spring sun rising over the hills every morning, bringing warmth and happiness after a cold, dark night. It seems like Cupid finally answered his prayers, like Aphrodite found sweet mercy for him.

Someone took his number. Someone wants to reach out to him.

For the rest of the day, he feels like he swallowed a swarm of bees, staring at his phone like it’s going to light up any second. Which it could. He could receive the message or call that changes his life any second now. Any second. Any… any second.

Nothing happens. Not in the next hour, not in the next two hours. All day, in fact, his phone stays quiet. His initial happiness deflates like a balloon. As he heads towards his quarters that evening, he observes how everyone piles into the dining hall, their happy laughter and cheerful spirits spoiling his usually solid appetite. He hates the sour feeling of envy in his stomach but he can’t help but suspect that everyone conspired against him.

Copia decides to skip dinner in order to cry into a big bowl of gelato. His nightmare might not have come true but his brain tortures him with pictures of your smiling face instead, with the phantom feeling of your warm hand lingering on his arm, and he can’t help but feel crushed anyway. He’d sell his soul to come home to you, to eat with you, sit with you, watch silly movies with you, fall asleep with you in his arms and wake up with your smile as the first thing he gets to see every day. It becomes increasingly clear to him that every day he misses out on being with you is a day tragically lost.

If only he was brave enough to change that.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

You’ve been pacing your bedroom for the better part of the evening now, back and forth and back and forth to the point where you’re seriously concerned about wearing down your carpet. The day passed uneventfully apart from your encounter with Copia in the hallway where you made a complete fool of yourself. You would have loved to skip all of the unnecessary fuss of texting back and forth but you barely spoke more than two words to him before you chickened out. Surely, if his interest in you was romantic, he could just ask you out instead of advertising himself on a public corkboard?

In any case, you’ve been typing out messages for over an hour now, deleting every single one of them only to throw your phone onto the bed multiple times before picking it back up to risk another attempt.

The reason you haven’t given up yet is that Lily knows you have his number now. Last night, when you thought everyone was asleep, you snuck out of your dorm feeling like James Bond with your torch and black clothing, tiptoeing down the empty corridors of the abbey. You didn’t want anyone spreading any premature rumors but a part of you was hesitant to take one of the numbers at all. Even if you called him, it wasn’t certain that he’d want to go on a date with you.

Still, you ripped off one of the thumb-sized pieces of paper and headed back – only to promptly run into Lily as she snuck out to meet Nora. You’re never going to forget her self-satisfied grin as she spotted you with the crumpled number between your fingers.

Begging your creative juices to start flowing, you stare at the empty message box. Perhaps you should be funny. You wonder if he knows the Piña Colada song. It is about a lonely hearts ad after all and he’s a musician. You type and type, delete and retype until you end on a rough draft to show Lily when she gets home. But no, upon rethinking, the joke is too silly even for you and there’s probably a better way to phrase this–

“Hey, have you called him yet?”

You jump, your heart rate doubling in shock. Lily appears in the open doorway and her voice startles you so fiercely that you clutch your phone to your chest. To your utter horror, the swishing sound of a sent message reaches your ear as your palm connects with the touchscreen, and when you glance down, the bubble with your typed out message sits at the top of your chat history.

“Oh no,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I sent my stupid silly joke message to him.”

Lily picks your phone from your hands, reading the solitary message from the display. “Well, at least now you’ll know if he shares your weird sense of humour?”

You grasp her shoulder and release a deep, throaty groan. Her words don’t calm you in the slightest, if anything, they only make it worse.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Driving Miss Daisy can’t distract him anymore.

Every two minutes Copia reaches for his phone to check for any missed texts or calls only to have the gapingly empty home screen staring back at him. He never figured out how to change the pre-set wallpaper. Perhaps he could try again when he has a cute couple picture of him and his future partner. The thought makes him smile. It’s one of many little things he would change – if they only called.

Despite putting it on vibrate, he doesn’t trust the device to inform him of any news. He even carried it to the toilet twice already, just in case something happens while he’s gone. His ice cream doesn’t satisfy him tonight, everything feels bland and devoid of flavour, but he refills his bowl anyway. One big spoon and a bit of spray cream… and as he walks back over to his bed, he realises that he should definitely check his phone again because this took way longer than two minutes.

Right as he pulls the device out his pocket, it vibrates violently in his hand. For a moment he is so shocked to see a message pop up that he throws it away. It lands on his bed, bouncing a few times, display still lit up with one new notification glaring at him from the centre of his screen.

He takes a deep breath. This is real. He got a message.

No, he can’t look at it, he’s going to lose his nerves. A few more deep inhales and slow exhales, then he can’t fight the suspension any longer. 

Hey, stranger :) You don’t like coconut, so you probably don’t like Piña Coladas, but maybe I’m still the love that you look for?  I would love to go on a date with you, if you are still looking for one. 

It takes him a second, then another one. The ice cream melts in his bowl as it sits forgotten on the floor next to his bed. Suddenly it clicks and he chuckles, in relief as well as amusement, thinking that he knows that song, that he gets the reference. That means this person is funny. They made a joke. He smiles to himself. A funny person wants to go on a date with him.

He types back, deleting, typing again. After five minutes, he comes up with a reply.

Hello, stranger! 👋🏼 I do not like Piña Coladas 🍹 but I have many better things to offer if you want to go on a picnic 🧺 with me tomorrow? I will bring food 🥪 and drinks 🧃 of course. Hopefully we do not get caught in the rain 💦😀

He thinks about how he could sign the message but then his nerves start to kick in. If he tells the person who he is, they may reconsider their choice to go out with him and that’s the last thing he wants. Even if the date doesn’t go well, he wants to try his best, so he shoots another message after the first: 

Oh. It will be a blind date, if that is okay with you?

The next minute is the longest of his life. An eternity passes. He thinks he might have stopped breathing with how tight his chest feels. That is, until his phone lights up and shows the same number again, wringing a deep sigh of relief from him.

That’s fine with me. Where do we meet?

The squeal he lets out vibrates in his chest and bounces off the walls.

He’s got a date. Finally.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Copia hears his bad conscience somewhere in the back of his mind whispering that blocking the best spot in the gardens all day is selfish. Perhaps it is true, perhaps he feels a little selfish today. And yes, besides feeling selfish he also feels a little guilty. Is it fair to go on a date when he has such a horrible crush on someone else? No. No, it’s not fair. But he can’t let another chance at love run through his fingers like sand on the beach. He simply has to grasp this opportunity.

His red-checked blanket lays untouched underneath the tall chestnut tree, its big, hand-shaped leaves rustling in the soft breeze as he approaches. The head of a rat is stitched into all four corners  of the fabric – a gift from Sister for his latest birthday – and it’s been sitting here since nine o’clock when he took the liberty of… reserving… the spot. He picked the north-side of the tree so that the shade falls exactly where he’s going to be sitting with his date in approximately fifteen minutes. If they prefer the sun, he can just pull the blanket over a little, but he’d never forgive himself if they got sunburn because of him.

Copia took the day off, his first day off all year in fact, risking his next employee of the month award to spend all morning in town, running errands. With the end of May and strawberry season starting, he visited every grocery store within walking distance to find the ripest, juiciest ones they offered. He was lucky enough to obtain a small basket filled with the most delicious-looking red fruits and some additional fresh ingredients for his sandwiches. While he was quick-witted enough to ask about his date’s allergies yesterday, he completely forgot to ask them about their favorite snacks and so he’s decided to just bring anything he could think of that wouldn’t melt in the sun.

The basket he packed feels heavy in his hand for that exact reason and when he sets it down on the blanket, he can feel the strain in his arm. The past hour was spent obsessing over his outfit until he decided to just go for the white suit combo. Yes, white fabric near grass and juicy red fruits is not the most brilliant idea, but he wants to look his best and that means going the extra mile, even if he has to wear the tiny, itchy underwear underneath.

His heartbeat is going a mile a minute now. He can’t unpack yet, he doesn’t want the food to be out for too long, and so he sits and waits, his hands sweaty under his black and white leather gloves. The fact that the gardens around him slowly become crowded as the afternoon rolls around does nothing for his nerves. He can feel the curious glances, can hear the hushed whispers, and as the hour nears, he starts sweating even more despite the shade. If the unanswered ad had been embarrassing, being stood up so publicly would be even worse. 

And then the most horrifying thing ever happens.

Copia sees you walking along the path, wearing a weather-appropriate, slightly dressed-up outfit that makes his eyes involuntarily roam your whole form. But he can’t fully focus on your loveliness. At first, he’s panicking that you’re meeting your friends somewhere close by where you could see him with his date. He would be so embarrassed, so distracted, so uncomfortable. But you walk straight towards him and that’s even worse. If he has to tell you that he’s busy meeting someone else he might spontaneously combust, explode into tiny particles of humiliation. It would ruin everything, his date and his crush on you. What if his date shows up and sees you with him? What if–

Oh no, you don’t stop approaching, you don’t take a turn, you walk up straight to where he’s waiting – with a hint of hesitation, yes, but very directed steps. Copia jumps up immediately, his black hat nearly falling from his head.

“Oh, Sibling,” he stammers, lifting a trembling hand to adjust his fedora. “Hello, hi. Are you spending some time outside today as well?”

Your mouth opens and you wring your hands before hiding them behind your back. “Hello, Cardinal. I ugh… I’m supposed to meet someone here under the chestnut tree.”

Copia furrows his brow, slowly registering your words. “Meet someone. Under the chestnut tree.” 

“Yes.”

“Oh, Satan. It’s you?” He stops, stares, comprehends. He sounds incredulous, his voice a higher pitch than usual. “You’re my stranger?”

You nod, big eyes staring into his mismatched ones in silent expectation, hope and fear muddled together in the crease of your brow. He doesn’t know how to react, just rubs his thumb and index finger together as his mind races faster than speed limit.

“Is this… is this bad?” you finally ask, breaking the awkward silence.

“No!” Copia exclaims. “No, no, no. Please, please sit.”

You do, kneeling down on the blanket a little hesitantly. Copia joins you, still not fully trusting his senses. This feels like a hallucination. His disbelief has to be the only reason he hasn’t passed out yet. Is he really on a date with you right now?

After another moment of silence, Copia notices you eyeing the basket and snaps back into reality. His plans, his very detailed plans for how this date is supposed to go, flood his mind and he remembers the first step now. Swallowing his shock, he sits up a little straighter.

“Ah, eh… yes, I got you something.” He reaches behind the basket and procures three deep red roses he stole from Primo’s rose garden on the way here. Their intense smell hits his nose as he whips them past his face and hands them over. “These are for you. I hope you like roses. I know it is a bit cliché but also a classic, no?”

“I love them,” you assure him, holding them up to your nose with a smile. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

He smiles. “Good, good. Yes. So… I thought about what we could do and–”

“Cardinal,” you interrupt then. 

“Oh, no. No, call me Copia. Please.” He gives you a shaky smile. “We’re on a date, no?”

“Copia,” you try but feeling his name on your tongue doesn’t make you feel any better. Ever since getting here your bad conscience made it hard to fully settle into this date and with his visible distress upon discovering it’s you, you feel like now is the time to address it. “Before… before we do this, I have a confession to make…” 

He hums and wriggles his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, I would love to see you in confession soon…”

You blush furiously. “Oh, no. No, that’s not what I meant.”

A flash of concern and you can practically see all of his insecurities mirrored in his eyes. You’re both tiptoeing around the same question, you assume, but it’s on you to take the plunge.

“What… what do you mean then?” he asks.

“About this date…” His lightheartedness completely disappears. You feel bad for ruining the mood but it’s too late now and you need to get it out, you owe him that much. “Copia… It wasn’t a blind date on my part. I… I knew it was you.”

“You knew it was me?” he asks and again his features change, eyes wide now. He really had no idea that people knew the ad was his and suddenly he feels like a fool.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been honest from the start.” You stare at his gloved hand but you’re too scared to take it. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you.”

“You knew it was me and you still… you still wrote to me? You still came?”

You furrow your brow. “I didn’t tell you because then I would have had to admit that it’s me and I was scared that maybe you wouldn’t want to go anymore.”

“Me? Not… not…” He shakes his head so fast that his fedora once again threatens to fly off. “Oh, tesoro, I would have… I would have been on the moon with joy, as they say. Yes, yes, I would have.”

You don’t correct him. Instead, an insecure smile settles on your face. “You know you don’t have to say that, Copia, it’s okay if you were hoping for someone else… That’s the risk of going on a blind date, right?”

He yanks your hand out of your lap, wrapping it up in both of his gloved ones. “Tesoro, can I be very honest with you?”

You nod. “Of course you can. Always.”

“I was hoping it was you.”

Your breath catches and steals your next words. The same incredulity that hit him earlier now settles in your chest and you can’t find it in you to question him.

Copia immediately fills the silence. “I never… I never thought…” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, a nervous swallow, before he wets his lips. “Dolce, you were always very good to me. I always saw your kindness, you understand this, yes? Don’t get me wrong, I just… I never thought you were interested in me like this. In such a silly old man.”

You have to giggle through your nerves. “I love that you’re a silly old man.”

He smiles shyly. “You are very sweet, tesoro.”

“I’ve actually had this crush for a few months now,” you admit, encouraged by his positive reaction. “And I want you to know that when I saw your ad I thought about calling even before I knew it was you.”

His smile grows impossibly bigger at that. “Did you?”

A nod. Copia squeezes your hand, then brings it to his face for a kiss. You feel his wet lips on your skin and they’re so soft, so gentle. When he sets your hand back down you see a trace of black lipstick on its back and instantly feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Should we start then?” he asks. “I brought a lot of things, let me show you.”

The basket opens to reveal a plethora of food and drink options. Copia sets down a foil-wrapped plate with sandwiches that look a little wonky so you assume he made them himself, then some juice boxes, apple and orange, a box of fresh, delicious-looking strawberries, two bottles of water, reusable plastic cups and plates. At last, he hands you one of many different muffins he must have stolen from the kitchens.

“For my dolcezza,” he says with a smile.

More heat spreads in your cheeks as you take the little treat from him with a thanks. You’re both visibly losing your nervousness now, your postures less cramped, stretching out your limbs on the blanket with your bodies angled towards each other.

“Maybe we should… talk a bit about us?” Copia proposes. “To get to know each other, sì? I would like to learn about you.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds good. Do you want to start?”

He thinks on a good starter question, the pressure clouding his thoughts for a moment but then his silence grows thick and he has to say something. “So, ugh… do you like Star Wars?”

This is not one of the questions on his list of conversation starters. For some reason, every single meaningful thought suddenly leaves him. Luckily, this simple, safe question seems to put you at ease and you relax even more.

“I do,” you say. “I watched all the movies.”

“Oh, good! And what is your favorite?”

You pluck a piece from your muffin, popping it into your mouth. “Hmm… The Empire Strikes Back, I think.”

“Hehehe, sì, sì, I am your daddy.” His eyes widen. “Not that I’m… I don’t mean… you know, the scene with Luke… ugh. So, anyway, yes, that is my favorite as well.”

You giggle and he lights up, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. You reach for one of the sandwiches then. Copia helps, holding the plate up for you.

“So, these are all inspired by Italian foods. I have ugh… caprese. Mozzarella and tomato?”

You reach for the one he showed you. “That sounds great, thank you.”

Copia can’t help but stare as he awaits your reaction. You hum in delight and immediately take another bite of the soft bread. Satisfied, Copia allows himself to grab one as well now. Conversation slows down as you eat but you continue to talk about your interests between bites, finding more and more similarities as the minutes pass. 

Your little spot is beautiful, cool enough to sit comfortably but warm enough to feel the reviving effects of spring. The leaves above you rustle every now and then, birds and bees flying past, the odd ant crawling over your blanket in search of some crumbs. Neither one of you is bothered as you sip on your juice boxes in tandem and intuitively increase your proximity.

With your bodies gravitating towards each other like that, you end up sitting very close after a while. Copia reclines against the tree trunk, pulling his hat down to grant him more shade, a little bit like a cowboy leaning against the walls of a saloon. His white suit is an odd contrast to his relaxed pose, not the most comfortable outfit to lounge in. Without thinking too much about it, he pulls you close to him and angles you so you can rest your head in his lap. 

You’re only tense for a short moment. Copia gets rid of his gloves and you can feel his bare fingers running over your scalp. The steady pattern he draws calms you and you sigh, closing your eyes for a few minutes as a warm feeling of safety spreads out in you.

Copia can’t help but stare. Despite the initial hiccup, you’re so comfortable around each other that he feels like he’s known you forever. This is a dream come true for him, all his fantasies, his wishes, his longings, they all seem to come together in the lovely face dozing in his lap. You’re the most stunning sight he ever had the pleasure to behold. Every line, every hair, every mole, blemish or scar combines into the most beautifully painted canvas – and to him, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

“Do you want a strawberry, tesorino?” he asks then.

You open your sparkly eyes and they reflect a speck of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Blinking a few times, you shift in his lap to avoid being blinded. He tenses as your cheek narrowly misses his groin, but then you nod and he distracts himself by reaching for the box of strawberries. 

With careful fingers, he grabs one of the shiny heart-shaped fruits, making sure to touch the stem to avoid any stains, and then guides it to your mouth. He can’t help but stare as he sees your lips part for him, the tip of your tongue peeking out to welcome the sweetness. You sink your teeth into the red flesh, so eager, and spatters of juice stain your lips. They appear even more saturated as you lick them clean, wetting them with your tongue, and he so desperately wants to kiss you.

“They’re so sweet already,” you say, taking the rest of the fruit from his hand.

“Yes, I agree.”

You giggle. “Copia, you haven’t even tried one yet.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean the strawberries.”

You huff out a flustered breath, fighting the still evident smile on your face, and hold the half-eaten strawberry up to his mouth. “Try.”

He lets you feed him with burning cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As his teeth meet the flesh, a few droplets of juice fall astray but he doesn’t even care if they ruin his suit anymore. He can’t stop looking at you, thinking about your soft hand so close to his mouth. He wants to kiss it again, desperately, and so he traps it with his when you try to pull away. With his lips pressed to your palm, he closes his eyes, kissing all the way down to your wrist where he lingers.

You gasp softly, lips parting as Copia continues to drag his lips over the delicate skin. Your reaction brings a smirk to his face, another moment that he’s going to think about for days to come.

“I tried, dolcezza,” he says. “And I think you’re still sweeter.”

You blush so prettily at that. Flustering you is easier than he expected and he takes notes of every little thing that draws a reaction from you. You spend another hour like this, eating fruit, drinking juice, chatting about all sorts of things while you exchange soft touches and words of your blossoming affection. At some point, the gentle breeze that carries on throughout the afternoon becomes stronger, and more and more people head back inside to escape a possible weather change.

Neither one of you wants to leave but as you start to shiver more violently, Copia’s worry about you catching a cold wins over his desire to prolong your date. He proposes to head inside as well, running his hands over the goosebumps on your bare arms to warm you up.

When you reluctantly agree, he starts to pile your dishes and the leftover food into the basket. You move to help but he stops you with a tut. “I will pack this up, eh? Don’t worry about it.”

“I could help you, you know.”

“Ah, no no. I invited you, yes? It is my pleasure.”

It only takes him a few minutes to pack everything up. You grab your flowers in the meantime and he watches from the corner of his eye as you sniff them with a growing smile on your face, swaying slightly from left to right. As Copia shakes out the blanket, folding it messily in the middle, you hesitate by the edge of your little picnic spot.

“So, do you want to walk back together?” you ask.

Copia smiles, glad that you don’t want to leave him quite yet. “I would like that a lot, tesoro. Should I carry the roses for you?”

You hand them over and he places them on the lid of the basket before he carefully picks it up. When he’s by your side again, you stop him with a hand on his forearm, the same gentle squeeze you gave him the last time. Only this time you don’t leave. Instead you lean in and press a soft kiss to his reddened cheek, your lips lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. Copia opens his mouth but he can’t think of anything to say. Instead he uses his unoccupied hand to fish for yours.

Hand in hand, palm against palm, you walk past the leftover groups of Siblings that make use of the last few moments of sun. Neither of you spares anyone else even a glance. Whenever your eyes aren’t focused on the path ahead, they meet each other, giddy, love-sick smiles gracing your lips.

As you finally pass the first archway and enter the cool stone corridors of the abbey, Copia suddenly stops. Your arms slowly extend as you take a few more steps but before your hand can slip from his, he pulls you back. Maybe he used a little bit too much force or maybe he just caught you by surprise, but you practically stumble into his arms. A gasp falls from your lips. You make no attempt at breaking away and so Copia gently guides you against the frame of the archway, setting down the basket in the process so he can place his other hand on your hip.

Big eyes look up into his. He leans in slowly. The rim of his hat catches the stone and it finally slips from his head, dropping somewhere. Copia doesn’t care because he can already feel your sweet strawberry breath on his lips and nothing could stop him from getting a taste. Your hands impatiently grab at his lapels, then, pulling him even closer, and he gasps at the force of your need. With your eyes falling closed, lips slightly parted and your chin tilted up, Copia feels like he’s in a dream.

“Please,” you whisper.

He has to fight a moan, the word resonating somewhere deep inside his belly. Still, he draws out  the moment for as long as he can, stalling as the tension crackles in the tiny space that separates you. He starts by nuzzling your nose while he pushes his hand upwards until he can grasp your jaw. As he angles your head just right, he feels your lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He fights off a giggle as they continue to tickle his skin and you shift slightly against him, growing impatient.

“Co–”

His mouth swallows your next syllable. You hum against him as his lips capture yours with gentle adoration. The grip on your waist tightens at the same time as his thumb presses into your cheek. Want, need, trickles into your belly and Copia feels the same way, moving his mouth against yours with slightly more pressure. The kiss is still slow, still tame, but it’s unmistakable how much stowed up desire for the other you both hold inside.

For a while you continue like this, your body trapped between Copia and the cool stone and the world around you a mere shadow. You open your mouth for air and that’s when you can feel his tongue cautiously pushing against yours. The sensation makes you feel even more fuzzy, the need for oxygen forgotten as you tangle your tongue with his. The taste is sweet, residues of fruit and juice, and underneath it all you feel Copia. Copia.

You only break away when you’re both struggling to keep up the pace. He’s a mess, his lipstick gone, black smears covering his chin and cheeks where his eye make-up rubbed off. You lift your hand to wipe some of your mingled spit off of his chin and the blissful expression on his face makes you smile. You love to see his face ruined like this, you decide. And Copia, seeing the lipstick-smears all over your kiss-swollen mouth, unknowingly thinks the same.

“We should do this again sometime,” you say. “The date but also… this. Actually, I think we should do it again right now.”

Copia chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “How about we never stop doing it?”

You nod your approval, wrapping your arms around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s soft, if a little bit sweaty, messy from the loss of his hat. “I would like that a lot, Copia.”

“I mean it, tesoro,” he whispers with a hint of insecurity. “I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Ever. We already wasted enough of it.”

A big smile breaks out on your face. Copia can’t help but return it, squeezing you a little tighter to his body, and you giggle happily as he kisses your nose.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “Let’s not waste another moment.”

✦ ✧ ✦

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly little story – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

[ghulehunknown]

Waking up with Papa Headcanons 💤

The below contains Safe For Work headcanons! Gender neutral reader

This morning I woke up daydreaming about having a Papa in my bed and all the cute cuddling and pillow talk we’d do 🥹

Primo

He’s already awake and brushing his teeth by the time you wake up

He’s made you a cup of tea, waiting for you on the bedside table

Kisses you sweetly on the forehead and hugs you before he leaves for the day

Says you are welcome to stay in his bed as long as you want

Secondo

You wake up to his arms protectively wrapped around your body

He already woke up long before you did, but wants to spend as much time with you as possible and didn’t want to leave yet

Has time for a quick cup of coffee and light conversation while he gets ready

Kisses you before leaving

Terzo

You wake up to him planting kisses on your neck and face

Your limbs are all tangled together because he’s wrapped himself tight around you in the night

He can’t get close enough to you and agonizes about leaving because all he wants to do is lay in bed with you all day and do nothing but watch TV and talk

You’re the first one to leave bed; he keeps pulling you back for more kisses, no matter how much you protest that you’re running late (and so is he)

Copia

He’s still snoring but is sleeping on his side, cuddling you with his hand on your waist, drool coming out of his mouth

Smiles when he wakes up and sees you next to him

Spends most of the free time staring into your eyes and talking with you before getting ready

Pulls you in tighter when you get up, and lets out an exasperated groan. “So soon, tesoro?”

Nihil

Laying flat on his back snoring with his mouth wide open

It takes a while to wake him up

Complains about what terrible sleep he got while you lay on his chest as he rubs your back soothingly before getting up for the day

He’s very slow to move or get ready at all, unless he has an important meeting

[ficandkaboodle]

Where’s my emotional support mattress have you seen him? He looks like this

Please I’m sotired

[theunholybastard]

Bad Day (Papa Emeritus IV x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Requested by @ollies-station !!! <3

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Is Hinted Trans But It's Pretty Vague, Mentions Of Body Dysmorphia/Dysphoria, 2nd Person POV

Copia hovered over you, paints smudged and halfway wiped off. He stopped in the middle of washing his face when he noticed something wasn't right with you. You lay face down in the bed, unmoving, just so done with life.

"Eh... t-tesoro, what's wrong?" Copia asks warily, head tilted like a confused puppy, eyes darting around the room awkwardly. He was never very good at comforting people. But you were the love of his life, how could he not at least try to be of help? He just can't stand to see you like this.

"Everything." You reply hoarsely, muffled by the pillow you were crying into earlier. You were hardly exaggerating, everything seemed to be going wrong and sending you further down a spiral. Not to mention, you've not been very kind to yourself today either. When you first woke up, things immediately felt off. You felt off. Looking into the mirror, you instantly felt dread, like something wasn't quite right with you. Deep rooted insecurities bubbled up to the surface, your body not feeling like your own. You just want the day to be over already, but every passing moment feels like eternity.

"Bad day, huh?" Copia sighs, sitting down on the bed with you, mindful to give you a little bit of space if you needed it. You finally lift your head up, and the sight makes Copias heart ache. Red, puffy face, tear stains down your cheeks, hair tussled and greasy. You hadn't even gotten a chance to shower that morning, notably the first sign today wasn't going to be all that great. You probably looked like a hot mess right now, but to Copia, you were the most beautifully ethereal being he'd ever laid his eyes on, no matter what state you were in.

"Is there anything I can do?" Copia asks concernedly, softly stroking your back with a gloved hand. "Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better."

"Maybe... But there's still so much stuff I have to do today-"

"Non importante. Whatever needs to get done today, I will do it for you. You've had enough stress put on you today, now it's time for you to relax. Now, tell your Papa what is wrong, okie dokie?"

You couldn't help yourself, airing out all your grievances to him. You spared no details, every little thing that went wrong and every little worry you had was brought to his attention, and he listened intently to every word. That was the one thing he's always been very good at. Listening. And he was right, it did make you feel a little better, especially with how earnest you could tell he was.

When it was all said and done, he said nothing at first, simply holding you close to his chest, his warmth and sweet smell of cologne quickly lulling you into a sense of security and comfort. You knew you always had a safe space with him.

"Bad days come and go, amore. You must keep in mind that this won't last forever. The good days will come back sooner than you think. And yes, maybe they will fleet sooner than you want them to as well, but the important thing is that they will come again. Look outside, tesoro..." You did as you were told, gazing out the window to see the sun slowly setting over the horizon.

"The day is almost over, you see? And tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Why don't you sit here for a moment and focus on that while I run you a nice relaxing bath, hm? I'll quickly run whatever errands you have left today, and after that I'll order some takeout for the two of us, how's that sound? I'll get you whatever you want."

"And... And can we maybe watch something after? And cuddle?" You sniffle. A comfort show would be great right now. He smiles. "Of course! Anything for my baby." He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, pulling away to get up and do the tasks he promised. You quickly grab the lapels of his jacket, keeping him from leaving you so soon.

"Copia... You know you don't have to do this, right? I'll be fine, really." You murmur, self conscious and worried that you're asking too much of this sweet, perfect man you've somehow managed to claim as yours. He chuckled.

"I know, amore; I want to. I want to make you happy, I want to make things easier for you. Because I love you. Because you deserve that. Capisci?" He says, a gentle firmness in his soft-spoken voice. Hesitantly, you nod. Still, you don't let go of his jacket just yet.

"Could you stay with me for just a little while longer?" You ask, hopeful and bleary eyed. He grins.

"As long as you need, tesoro."

-

[byeashhh]

‧₊˚ ┊Of Rats and Reverie

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Cardinal Copia x Fem! Reader content: fluff, pining, nervous copia, library encounters, slow burn, quiet intimacy, romance word count: 2578 est. read time: 10 min. author's note: first actual fanfic in years so it may be awful ! If it does well I will make more (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ heavily inspired by c.ai bot by @ xokyraxo potentially a chapter two in the making ?

The Ministry's library was a strange, solemn relic buried in a place more accustomed to debauchery and sin. Hidden among shadowed halls and opulent chambers where sacred blasphemy danced freely, the library stood still—forgotten by most, remembered only by those who sought knowledge, solitude… or someone. The scent of aging parchment clung to the walls like incense, mingling with candle wax and dust. Few dared spend time within its cold embrace unless they had purpose—summoning rites, obscure research, or an occasional desire to disappear from the relentless noise of the Ministry’s sins.

Copia, however, came for her.

She wasn’t someone most would notice. A quiet Sister of Sin with ink-stained fingers and a gaze always buried in crumbling pages. But Copia noticed. Oh, how he noticed. He saw her, always, even if she never saw him. She had a habit of claiming the bay window that overlooked Primo’s garden— an old, overgrown place that refused to die, even when ignored. Depending on the hour, she sat with either a delicate porcelain coffee cup or a thin-stemmed wine glass, always cradled delicately in her hands while her eyes traveled line by line across old, yellowing books.

He’d watched her enough times to memorize the way she chewed the inside of her lip when a passage caught her attention. The way her brow would knit, lashes low as she focused with a kind of reverence he only dreamed of receiving. They’d never spoken. Not really. A nod here. A brush of the sleeve there. But tonight, that would change.

It was just past midnight, and his heart was thudding against his ribs like the beat of a ceremonial drum. The propped library door welcomed him like a challenge, and he stepped in quietly, smoothing back his dark brown hair with trembling fingers. This is it, he told himself. You’re the Cardinal. You’ve practiced. You have a plan. She was there, of course, already in place, her silhouette haloed in candlelight as she perused the nearest bookshelf. Copia felt his resolve crumble beneath the weight of her mere presence. But he couldn’t run… not now.

With his heart pounding in his throat, he forced his feet to carry him forward, keeping a few respectful feet of distance as he mimicked her scanning of the shelves. Faux confidence stitched itself awkwardly across his features. A smile, a wave.

Then, the move.

"This one is really good," he said, his Italian-accented voice just loud enough to reach her. He plucked a book from the shelf and held it out, praying to Lucifer that this moment would go smoothly.

She blinked once, then tilted her head, reading the title aloud with a soft lilt: “What to Expect When You're Expecting… A pregnancy guide?” The soft laughter that followed nearly knocked the wind out of him. “Ah! Oh sweet Lucifer!” he squeaked, face flushing red as he practically snatched the book back. “I don’t— Someone must have— That book wasn't— I swear, it must have been… misplaced!” She said nothing for a moment, only watching him with quiet amusement and those hazel eyes that seemed to gleam with something kind. Then, with a slight smile curving her delicately plump and rose tinted lips, she said, “Good evening to you too, Cardinal.” His title had never sounded sweeter when coming from her mouth.

Copia blinked, momentarily stunned, every practiced line of small talk slipping from his mind like water through his fingers. His mismatched eyes locked with hers, and for one long second, the world narrowed to her smile, her voice, the soft warmth in her expression. He cleared his throat, fumbling once more to retrieve the correct book—The Story of Rats: Their Impact on Us, and Our Impact on Them. “This… is what I meant to grab,” he mumbled, holding it out sheepishly. “It’s… informative.”

She took the book gently, her fingers brushing his, and read the back with visible curiosity. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Still, Copia couldn’t help himself—he had to keep her engaged. “You know,” he said, “rats can crawl through holes the size of a quarter… and they actually laugh when they're tickled.”

That got her attention.

She looked up at him with surprise and a grin that melted his nerves just a little. “I, uh—I could show you,” he added quickly, his voice picking up speed. “I have a pet rat, Gino. He’s very ticklish. And… very vocal.” There it was. The invitation. Not just to meet Gino, but to stay in his orbit a little longer. She tilted her head again, this time with a touch of warmth in her gaze. “Is that so?” Copia nodded, heart in his throat. “Yes. He, uh, really likes new people.” She smiled again, “Well… I’d love to meet him sometime.”

Lucifer be praised. ───────────────

The invitation had been casual—at least, that’s how Copia hoped it sounded. He had barely slept since the night in the library. His mind replayed the way she smiled at him, her laughter echoing in his ears like a hymn. She’d said yes. She wanted to meet Gino.

That meant something… right?

He’d spent the entire next day cleaning his quarters. Not that it was particularly messy, Copia was surprisingly tidy, but every corner was scrutinized with the intensity of someone preparing for a royal inspection. He even replaced Gino’s bedding and gave him a thorough brushing, much to the rat’s sleepy protests.

“This is important, sì?” Copia muttered as Gino blinked up at him lazily. “We must make a good impression.” The soft knock on the door came exactly at seven, as agreed. He froze mid-sentence in the middle of telling Gino not to bite anyone tonight.

Then he bolted for the door, almost tripping over his own feet.

When he opened it, there she stood—still in her habit, though the black veil was looser, framing her soft features. A small bottle of red wine was in her hand. “I figured he might appreciate a peace offering,” she said, holding it up with a smile. Copia laughed, too loudly, then immediately tried to tone it down. “He’s, eh… not much of a drinker, but I will gladly accept on his behalf.” She stepped in, her eyes curiously taking in his quarters—eclectic, warm, lined with strange relics, odd books, and framed images of rats dressed like clergy. A strange comfort radiated from the space. It felt like him.

And in the middle of it all, in a lavish little enclosure sat Gino. “Is that him?” she asked, setting the wine down and crouching slightly to peer into the rat’s domain. “Gino, yes,” Copia said proudly, moving to the cage. “Gino, we have a guest. Be nice, eh?” Gino blinked sleepily, then scurried toward the open door of the cage, whiskers twitching. His tiny pink nose wriggled as he sniffed the air, clearly intrigued by the new scent. Copia carefully lifted him and offered her the chance. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Absolutely,” she said, holding out her hands gently. Gino made himself comfortable almost immediately, crawling up her sleeve and perching on her shoulder like it was his rightful throne. She laughed, bright and real, and Copia’s heart just about gave out. “He likes you,” Copia said, maybe a little too seriously. “That’s… rare.” “Is it?” she asked, reaching up to gently scratch under Gino’s chin. “He seems very sweet.”

“He’s a good judge of character,” Copia said softly, watching the two of them. “He doesn’t usually warm up to people this fast.”

“Well,” she said with a soft grin, “I did bring wine.” Copia chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I should’ve brought wine the first time I saw you in the library, huh?”

“You noticed me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow with playful curiosity. His eyes went wide. “Oh! I—not in a creepy way! I just… you were always there. I mean, not always, that sounds like I was watching you, which I wasn’t, not like that, just… sometimes. A little. Respectfully.” She laughed again, and it didn’t sound like mocking. “Relax, Cardinal. I thought it was cute.” Copia felt his face heat up, and he quickly changed the subject. “Would you like to stay for a bit? We could… open the wine? I have glasses. Somewhere.”

She nodded, gently handing Gino back to him. “I’d like that.” He set Gino back into his enclosure, who promptly curled into a ball of fluff and contentment, and Copia turned to find her watching him, not just politely, but openly, as if trying to learn him the way she read those books. He poured the wine with trembling fingers, but his smile was steady. Maybe this wasn’t the summoning ritual he thought he’d have to perform to get her attention. Maybe this was better.

The quiet clink of glass filled the room as Copia poured the wine, his movements just a little too careful, as if the simple task of filling two glasses was somehow a delicate ceremony. The air was thick with the kind of stillness that often comes before something important, something he didn’t quite understand yet. His hand trembled, just slightly, as he set the bottle down. She was still watching him, her gaze gentle and curious, and he could feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

“Do you…” He cleared his throat, desperately trying to steady his thoughts. “Do you like wine?” He instantly regretted the question, as if it were too plain, too awkward. Great start, Copia. She smiled, soft and warm, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight. “I do,” she said, taking the glass he offered with a graceful hand. “But I prefer to enjoy it slowly. Not too much at once.” Her voice was a gentle hum that seemed to settle something inside of him. “It’s the little moments that matter, don’t you think?” Copia stared at her for a moment longer than he meant to, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become. There was a delicate kind of magic in the air, like the world had softened just for them.

“Yeah…” He trailed off, setting his own glass down on the table with a clink. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he wanted to savor this moment. Savor her. "The little moments…" She smiled again, and Copia’s heart skipped in that soft, fluttering way it only did when she was near. It was ridiculous, how much she made him feel like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn't quite grasp, yet he wanted to reach out and pull it closer.

Gino, as if sensing the change in the air, scurried from his little bed to the edge of his cage, looking up at the two of them with wide, beady eyes. Copia chuckled, grateful for the small distraction. "Ah, Gino," he said with a fond smile. "He’s a bit of a charmer, isn’t he?" She laughed, a light, melodic sound that made Copia’s chest feel full. “I think he’s already decided I’m trustworthy.”

“I think so too,” Copia said, leaning over to open the cage and lift the tiny rat out with a careful hand. “But I’ll warn you now, he can be a bit demanding. If you’re not paying attention, he’ll climb all over you.” She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Sounds like he and I will get along just fine.”

Gino, as if on cue, scampered up her arm and settled on her shoulder, making himself comfortable with a little wiggle of his tail. She let out a quiet laugh, her fingers gently brushing against the small, soft creature as he snuggled into the crook of her neck. “See?” Copia said, feeling proud, like a doting parent. “I told you.” For a moment, the two of them sat in comfortable silence, just watching Gino get comfortable on her shoulder. Copia realized he was actually smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this… settled. It was funny, he had spent so many months watching her from afar, so many nights staring from the edges of the library, afraid to approach. But here she was, smiling at him, Gino perched happily on her shoulder, and it felt so easy. So right.

She broke the silence first, her voice soft and steady. “You know, Copia, I always thought you were one of those people who hid behind the seriousness of your title. But now that I’m here… I think I’ve gotten a glimpse of the real you.” Copia blinked, suddenly unsure of how to respond. His heart lurched. “The real me?” he repeated, his voice a little smaller than he intended. She nodded, her eyes gentle but piercing. “The one who isn’t worried about impressing anyone. The one who talks about his rat like he’s a treasure, who takes the time to make sure everything feels right.”

Copia felt the warmth rush to his face. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” he mumbled, shifting in his seat. “I’m just… I’m just me.” The way she looked at him, though, made his words falter. She didn’t just see him as the Cardinal or the figure of authority he was expected to be. She saw him. And it made him feel… seen. In a way he had never allowed himself to be. “You don’t have to pretend, Copia,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’m not here because you’re a title. I’m here because I enjoy being with you.” Her words, simple but honest, settled over him like a warm embrace, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he could breathe without fear of judgment, without the pressure of being someone he wasn’t. He was just Copia. And that was enough.

“Really?” he asked quietly, searching her eyes for any sign of insincerity. But there was none. Just a soft understanding that made his chest tighten. He felt like he was about to fall into something deeper, and the thought both thrilled and terrified him. “Really,” she said, reaching out to gently touch his hand, the briefest of connections that sent a spark through him. She smiled, her lips curling into something both teasing and tender. “Besides, I think Gino would approve. And he has very high standards.”

Copia chuckled, feeling the weight of the moment ease just a little, but there was still a quiet yearning that pulled at him. “I think you’re right.” They sat there for a while longer, letting the wine flow more freely, letting Gino crawl between them as if he was the true master of the evening. Copia didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or how things would shift between them, but he didn’t feel afraid. Not anymore.

For once, he didn’t feel like he had to have everything figured out. He just had to be. Just had to stay. She glanced at him again, her eyes soft in the candlelight. “You know, Copia…” She trailed off, as if weighing her words carefully. “I don’t think this will be the last time we do this.” The air between them shifted, and his heart thudded in his chest at the unspoken invitation.

He met her gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I hope not.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Copia realized he didn’t want the night to end. He didn’t want this quiet, easy connection to disappear.

[ashthewaterghoul]

Girls Night With Copia

1.7k words of pure fluff based on these posts of mine X X

    The Ghoulettes are a force to be reckoned with.

    They’re as ferocious as they’re caring and no one would dare say ‘no’ to their asks, lest they say goodbye to their ability to walk the next day. Take that how you will…

    So, when Cumulus bumped into a very stressed looking Frater – his eye paint doing nothing to hide his tiredness, or the crow’s feet that seemed to have mutated into that of ravens – she declared a Girl’s Night was in order. And Copia would never say no, even if he wanted to.

    Copia found himself outside the Ghoulettes’ shared room that night, paint scrubbed off, in his pyjamas and a bag of wine bottles in hand as per usual - for each of the girls’ own tastes. Cirrus welcomed him in and Sunshine declared she would go first. Each Ghoulette had a role for their pamper sessions after all…

Read below the cut! Will be put on ao3 later, cba doing it rn lol

    Copia took his shirt off and hopped into their massive nest, face down and waiting for his masseuse.

    Sunshine popped the cap off of one of her jars of massage oils, infused with the herbs she can grow with her Earth affinity, and used her Fire affinity to help heat it up on her hands. Copia wouldn’t flinch when those hands would start roaming along his back, only relax. If he was a Ghoul, he knows he would start purring up a storm right about now. The girls were more than used to his groans of relief as Sunny expertly worked each knot from his muscles, and lifted more strain than he knew he was carrying. The Multi Ghoulette had long discovered that Copia carries his stress in his neck and between his shoulders and focuses most of her attentions there, and sometimes she even manages to crack a few joints while she’s at it.

    When Copia flips over, she gets to work massaging his front too. All along his arms and his plush stomach, putting some more pressure to her hands as she passes over his chest to provide some comfort like a weighted blanket- as if he wasn’t already relaxed enough anyway.

    The way she always declares Copia done was when she would lean over and kiss the tip of his nose with a giggle.

     “You feeling better, C?” She asked, smoothing back Copia’s hair, her own bouncy curls hitting him in the face a bit.

    “Much better. Amazing as always, solare.” He replied with a smile.

    He slowly sits up and stretches, feeling about ten years younger and back in the start of his Cardinal days.

    “Me next!” Aurora excitedly announced, bouncing on her heels as she waits for Copia to come over.

    Aurora is a lady and she keeps her claws sharp and pristine. Early on in her days topside, she took online nail art classes and is now a fully-fledged and qualified nail technician. She has boxes of polishes and equipment in with her belongings but tonight she only has out what she needs.

    At her little workbench, she has her files, polishes, curing lamps and, of course, a glass of wine. Aurora likes a sparkling zinfandel and it seemingly was the inspiration for her colour scheme tonight.

    Copia sat with his hands in bowls to soak off what little remained of his last Rory-cure, as the pack had taken to calling them, and talked through her plan.

    “So, your pinky, pointer and ring fingers are all going to be this colour,” she said as she showed off a shimmering bottle whose colour matched the pale, rosy pink of her tipple, “and then your thumb and middle are going to be a darker pink and I’m going to draw a pentagram in the shimmer, and some cool swirly shit. Kinda like what comes out of summoning portals.”

    “Sounds perfect, my love.” Copia smiled. He’d never say no to any of Rory’s designs and in the event he doesn’t like the look, he wears his gloves in public anyway. Although that hasn’t happened yet. Copia always loves his newest Ghoulette’s artistry and always feels more confident wearing it under his leather every day.

    Sunshine, now having her hands free, got to enjoy her glass of muscat alongside Cumulus’ own Sauvignon Blanc and Cirrus’ merlot. When Copia gets to his tall Air Ghoulette, he’ll finally get a glass too.

    Aurora focuses hard as she does Copia’s nails; making sure to file them to the length and shape he likes before applying some oil that smells absolutely incredible and he knows Dewdrop has tried to drink on more than a few occasions.

    When they’re both happy, Aurora will get to painting them. Using the best base coat she has and making sure not to flood Copia’s cuticle before curing the gel polish under the UV lamps and then starting to paint the colour and designs. After the top coat’s set, she spends a good 5 minutes having Copia pose his hands so she can take pictures for her ever-expanding portfolio.

    Then Copia hops back onto the nest, now clear of Sunny’s massage oils, and puts his head in Cumulus’ lap, looking up at her.

    “Hey, sugar,” She coos, “You got anything I need to look at today?”

    Cumulus’ facials were sought-after commodities that so few ever got. She was a full-on skin care guru who could easily craft up bespoke skincare routines in her sleep, knowing what each ingredient does and who needs what product in what order.

    “Ah, I have no complaints, cara.” Copia said, already closing his eyes as Cumulus’ cool hands got to work analysing his face. Copia wasn’t quite sure of the benefit of certain things, but he trusted his Air Ghoulette, and it all felt nice anyway.

    She painted on face masks and gently washed them off, doing specific ones on different areas of his face. She did a blackhead peel that always felt strange but Copia was long-used to the sensation. She always paid special attention to the skin on Copia’s top lip and around his eyes that were usually always painted as it often got dried out from the near-constant product wear. It used to be a concern for his whole face when he was Papa and wore his skull paint, and she was always in charge of helping him wash away all the paint and take care of his skin afterwards.

    She glided cool massage globes across his face, and used a gua sha too. She rubbed in toners and serums and cleansers and moisturisers until Copia was sure her magic had managed to de-age him.

    “Fresh as a daisy.” She said with a kind smile as she finished applying the last of the products.

    “Grazie, Lu.” Copia said with an equally kind grin as his Air Ghoulette took off the hairband he’d had on and helped smooth back his hair again.

    “You’re very welcome, C-bear.” She said with a boop to his nose as she got up.

    Copia sat up in the nest, and Cirrus sat next to him, a glass of merlot in hand and one she gave to her summoner.

    “Thank you, Cirrus.” Copia said as the taller Ghoulette shifted to be right beside him, ready for her turn in the Copia-Pampering-And-Destressing-Carousel.

    “Thank me later. Now, tell me how being Frater Imperator is treating you.” She said with a mischievous smirk.

    Cirrus was infamously the Ministry’s gossip monger. Any tiny crumb of a story she would eat right up and add it to her ever-growing bank of knowledge. As she went around the Siblings, getting her tales and rumours, she discovered a talent she had. She had this incredible ability to pick people’s brains and draw out just about anything she wanted. Amazing news for her love of chatter and tales, even better for her pack. She often used her power for good, and used it to draw out what’s been stressing people. Even if they don’t want help, no one will ever deny how amazing it always feels to get their burdens out in the open.

    Copia never liked to talk about his problems, preferring rather to be there for his flock and care for them like any good Clergy leader should. But, as Cirrus often reminded him, the Ghouls can take care of themselves, so Copia doesn’t need to have that front with them. And so, with his wine in hand, Cirrus picked his brains, worded her questions very carefully and got Copia to admit to things that he didn’t even know where weighing on him.

    “And now you can thank me.” Cirrus said as Copia finished pouring out his heart, and Aurora poured more wine into his glass.

    “Ay, grazie mille, Cir.” Copia said, leaning into the arm that Cirrus had around him, her kind eyes, blue like frosty mornings, lighting up at being bale to help.

    With Copia feeling thoroughly destressed and spoiled by his girls, they all piled onto the nest and snuggled, just catching up and laughing as they drank their respective wines.

    “What are we watching tonight?” Cumulus said after a while.

    “Love Actually?” Aurora suggested.

    “We watched that last time.” Cirrus laughed.

    “It’s Christmas, Cirrus, have some festive cheer!” Sunshine defended her fellow Multi.

    “Fine, what about The Holiday then?” Cirrus said.

    “Oooo, yeah, we haven’t watched that yet this year!” Cumulus said as she sprang up to get the remote for the TV.

    The last part to their girl’s night traditions was always watching a romcom – the cheesier the better, usually. Copia didn’t know how they hadn’t watched every single one yet but his girls were always resourceful, and seemed to have an entire inventory of them to look through. Of course, they rewatched some from time-to-time, but Copia never paid too much attention to the films, as he always preferred to focus on his Ghoulettes. Especially in their nights together since he became Frater.

    He doesn’t get to see his Ghouls nearly as much as he’d like to now, and so soaks up each and every moment he can with them. Okay, maybe it turns into an orgy where Copia still gets spoiled and basted with attention the whole time, but he still values that time too. Tonight was nothing of the sort though, and Copia fell asleep surrounded by his girls, his body feeling lighter and younger, his belly full of wine and snacks.

    Most importantly, he fell asleep with his heart positively brimming with love for his oh-so-cherished Ghoulettes.

One shot master post can be found here!

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

WHAT IF a Dracopia that hunts like a house cat bringing you a mouse 'cause he just loves you sm

GIRL YES THAT'S SO CUTE

also sorry this took so long, i was traveling. but i'm back now and i hope u enjoy !! <3

masterlist.

warnings/things to note: no pronouns used for reader, mention of bood (it's the mouse's), possibly autistic Copia, fluff

word count: 546

In all honesty, you hadn't realized Copia was a vampire until after you two got together. Which was fine with you at first, thinking he was going to be more of a Twilight Edward Cullen vampire and not... well, whatever he was. You didn't really mind that, though; it was just a bit unexpected.

When he suggested that you both share a living space, you were a bit hesitant as it was common sense that vampires were nocturnal creatures. However, you could never resist his cute little pleading face.

The first few nights were normal, except for the fact that he was a sleepwalker. It took some getting used to, but eventually it became one of your favorite things about him. Things were moving along well, and you thought nothing of it when he slipped out of bed, mumbling to himself as he wandered into the kitchen.

Until the mice started to invade.

You could hear a few of them scurrying in the walls while the both of you fixed dinner for yourselves, causing Copia's eyebrow to raise in suspicion. He said nothing, returning to the pot of boiling sauce for your dinner.

The rest of the night went by smoothly, neither of you wanting to bring it up as exterminators could get pricey and money was tight.

When you went to bed, he stayed awake holding you close to his chest in a protective manner.

"What? Scared of the mice?" You teased, to which he scoffed.

"No, amore. Don't worry about it. Let's go sleep now, yes?" He purred into your ear, pressing feather-light kisses to the back of your neck.

You sighed softly in contentment, slowly drifting off into the realm of dreams.

A few hours later, you heard Copia sliding out of bed. Nothing new to you, as you thought he was sleepwalking again. Then came a little rustle out in the living room, and soon enough you heard Copia's feet pitter-patter back into your room. What you weren't expecting, though, was a small thud of a dead mouse on your lap.

You bolted upright with a scream. "Copia, what the hell?!" You glared at him but were only met with his face in an expression pure joy.

"I caught one for you, amore! I finally got one!" He said, sounding like a small child as he clapped his hands happily.

You blinked, looking down at the mouse carcass in your lap. He'd already drained its blood, which made sense to you as he was a vampire (obviously), but was still disturbing nonetheless.

"I... for me? Is this just a- another vampire thing that I don't understand?" You asked as you lightly picked it up.

He shrugged. "I got it for you, amore. Oh- don't mind the, um... bite marks, I got thirsty."

"O-Okay, um... my dearest, ehm- thank you so very much for this, I'm speechless... but maybe we should... not bring them into the bed?" You tried to reason with him, to which he took a step back and thought.

"Yeah, you're probably right like always, amore. Mi dispiace," he chuckled sheepishly and took the mouse from your hand. "I'll take care of this..."

And with that, he ran off into the kitchen again, mumbling to himself with a slight giggle.

~~

i hope this was what u wanted and sorry if it wasn't 😅

[anamelessfool]

Papa IV "Copia" x GN! Reader (AO3 Link)

Domestic Fluff, GEN with some strong language.

You’re in the middle of recovering from a broken leg, and after a few months of this every appointment feels more like a setback than a step forward. At least Copia had been there. This whole time, your man was there.

Dedicated to my friend @thew0man. I hope this domestic fluff instantly heals you. Thank you for all your support. Keep being your lovely self.

Tags: Gender Neutral, Established Relationship, Healing After Injury, Married Life, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff. Broken Bones, Wheelchairs, Medical Issues

The lift stops at the fourth floor with a final clunk that knocks a tired sigh from you. Your leg in its cast and new boot stirs and issues a dull ache as a reminder. Your love Copia is wedged in the corner by the buttons, his mismatched eyes blinking in their perplexed way as he waits just a bit more until he's sure the lift’s stopped. He meets your eyes, flashes you a tender smile and a little thumbs up. “Home sweet home, eh?” He chuckles. He squeezes his body around your wheelchair in the tiny service elevator of your flat, nearly stumbling backwards into the hall.

“There you go, I got you,” Copia mutters, placing his hands on either side of the chair to help pull you out.

“I'm fine, I'm fine Copia,” you reply, moving your hands along the hand rims to roll the wheels forward. You exit the lift with a thunk and wince. The painkillers have done their job but your leg still throbs in its boot. The boot is new, and it was a good step towards actually getting over this. In the car you admitted to Copia your exhaustion from today’s appointment, so like a gentleman he brought down the wheelchair.

“Now, amore, we spend the rest of our Saturday relaxing, si?” He says by your ear. “You eh— you need help?”

“No I'm fine.” You give him a weak smile. He's so attentive that those butterflies start to wake. The ones where you're worried for him. You feel a flush of nerves as he continues his friendly chatter as you wheel yourself down the hall towards your flat.

In a few moments you're inside your place and sitting once more on the couch. Copia has arranged a nest of blankets around you as carefully as a mama bird, settling you in for another late afternoon and evening to get through while you heal. Your leg in the cast itches. It always does at the worst time. You stare at it hoping just giving it a tired look will make it stop, but it continues, taunting you. You notice once more an old get well card over the television and its memory continues to sink your mood.

Happy Valentine’s Day, you say to yourself whenever you feel down about your situation. The red and pink, white lace and teddy bears were the decorations festooned across your earliest memories of your accident. The sweet little tributes filled the hospital room but also reminded you too much of how badly you miscalculated. If only I…if I had just…why didn’t I… Over and over the moments replayed themselves in your brain as you stared into the black plastic eyes of yet another “Grin and Bear It!” Plush delivered to your room. Happy Valentine’s Day but it was nearing July. And every time you returned from your doctor’s office it never felt like an improvement, just another problem.

At least Copia had been there. This whole time, your man was there. He had travelled to your hospital bedside as soon as he was able, clearing his schedule to spend time playing Uno and reading you books until you fell asleep. “My love…You'll be well soon,” he had said as he held your hands in his own over the rough hospital blanket. “Believe you'll be well and you'll be well, amore. That's most of it, si? The em— power of the mind and all. Getting you through.”

He's helped you to every appointment he can, kept you clean and fed and comfortable. His whole world was you, even though it had shrunk to the size of your apartment and the occasional wheel around the park to stay sane.

“Let’s get you comfortable, here em—yes, perfetto,” Copia murmurs. He's here even now, adjusting the pillows around you on the couch. He's wearing his Saturday best of ratty red sweatshirt that’s seen better days but over time has become impossibly soft. His freckled cheek is right beside yours, his eyes lowered as he works. He smells of lavender and Florida water aftershave as you lean forward and steal a kiss for yourself. He makes one of those little noises in his throat, frowning comically as he stands up.

“You're distracting me,” he says. “Although I know I am irresistible. As I um— as I seduce you with all of these em…couch cushions.” Copia ends his task with his own thoughtful little kiss on your forehead before moving on to the kitchen nearby.

You learned that when he can't touch you in the ways he wants, he'll stack your table high with food. You're not sure if it's an Italian thing or a Copia thing but watching him putter about in a kitchen calms you down after another long day of being stuck in your thoughts. “We can see that see that gangster film if you like em— which one was it? The one with the guy who…oh, he's in that other film…”

Copia continues his rambling as he chops things in the kitchen. There's the sizzle of oil and the comforting scent of your favorite meal wafts into the living room. You shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself. Spiced tagine chicken, your favorite. Copia's awful proud about how he's figured it out and so now you assume with another chuckle that this is what you're going to eat for the rest of your life.

Or at least until your leg was better. You stare at the new cast now, frowning at it propped up on the ottoman.

You were better, but you were far from recovered. And as sweet as he was, you were worried Copia wouldn’t keep his patience. At some point he’d get tired hauling you from one appointment to another. Would get frustrated from helping you to and from the car, would get bored from all the missed opportunities for sweet dinner dates, concerts or cocktail bars.

It was embarrassing enough asking him for the most basic things that just weeks ago you would do without a thought— damn, if only I—getting up the stairs, bathing, cooking meals. A part of you decided to tell you stories about what was going through Copia’s mind as he doted on you. Surely, this task would be the one to put him over the edge. Yes, this setback, this latest appointment will make his smiles and cheerful demeanor fade. When he wasn’t around you’d sleep. Or lie awake wondering.

Maybe you'll start with a game. Some Zelda or Phoenix Wright, you're not sure. Although you’re halfway through a court case in Phoenix Wright and you don't really remember all the little details anymore. Maybe not. Maybe you'll restart the chapter later, although filing through all that text seems tiring at this point. Fine, perhaps no video games.

Painting? Copia’s left your iPad on the side table within reach. But you're not sure what to paint. And the last one needs some color correction and the thought of fiddling with the smallest adjustments that nobody will notice except you is far from appealing. There's nothing on the TV of any interest to you at this hour. You pick up a book you've been planning on reading but after a few minutes the text swims in front of your eyes.

Or you could always do the jigsaw puzzles. Dear God not the jigsaw puzzles.

You click on the television just to have noise to fill the air. It's two women crowing about handbags on a home shopping network. That’ll do. You set it all down and stare at the ceiling.

“I will set my alarm for eh— the three times a day you need the small white round ones, and the twice a day the long pill capsules and of course the injections….how many do we need?” Copia stares at the doctor’s note, mouth slack like he's attempting to translate an ancient curse carved into the side of a pharaoh's sarcophagus. “How, how do they write like this, tesoro? Is this em— is this English? Cazzo, what is this…”

“Twice a day,” you sigh. You're not happy about the shots but at least your man's been a champ when it comes to helping you with them. However, last two times he made you laugh too much to hold still. “Look away, dear, I’m eh—too scared to look too,” he joked, covering his eyes.

Dinner is set to steam on the stove for a while. He returns from the kitchen, with his Kiss the Cook apron on with the matching tacky fish-shaped oven mitts you brought back from Brighton for him as a joke. The money was worth the polite, nervous smile he gave you when he opened the gift. Now he uses them with pride cooking every night. Getting better at your favorite spiced tagine chicken recipe. He's close, almost.

“Is there anything else? Anything I can get you em—before dinner?”

All this fussing, all the delicious smells of your favorite meal and the buzz of shows on the TV and the warmth of the blanket he's draped on you spins in your mind. You want to be happy. You want to be at peace, but the twist in your chest doesn't go away, and in fact the more he dotes on you and mutters sweet nothings the more that tightness winds.

And right now, it just snaps. You let out a sob, something that you thought wouldn't be detected but is too loud across the space. Copia freezes. He heard it. Fuck. The tears pour out like fizz from a shaken soda can.

“I just…Copia, I'm sorry!” The scene swims in the onslaught of your tired tears. He's frozen in his bewildered mismatched expression, holding onto an oven mitt like a life raft against a tsunami. It's all too much but you can't stop now. “I'm so sorry you have to see me like this. You have to…take care of me like this. After— God, I'm such an idiot! I wasn't thinking and now…now you have to…I'm like a helpless little nothing over here, and it's my fault!”

You don't want to look at him. You've already wasted enough of his time. He's seen you at your absolute worst, and even worse than that carried you around like you were his nonna. You have the image of him wheeling you around some Italian square, pigeons flying about while you tighten your old lady scarf around you. The idea of that injects you with a odd feeling of pity and mirth, and you utter a tired noise you're not sure is a laugh or another sob, but it's an embarrassing honk just the same.

“You’ve done too much. I…” And you say the quiet part out loud. “Copia I don't deserve all this.”

“Amore…is that it?” Copia settles in next to you and places his hand on your good leg.

You nod wordlessly, tears still streaming down your face. The people in the television laugh, unknowing of your inner turmoil. But the secret’s out now. To everyone, including yourself.

“In sickness and in health, si?” His mouth quirks as he struggles to stay serious. “That's ah…that's fifty percent of that sentence, yes? There's good times and there's em—well, not so good times.”

Now you want to apologize for being such a baby. From nonna to whining baby, the shame is giving you whiplash but his touch keeps you tethered in place. “Copia, I’m—”

“Sickness and in health. One hundred percent. I love you one hundred percent, amore,” he says bringing your hand to his lips. His eyes never leave yours as you feel his soft lips graze your knuckles. “Love is getting through the hard times, is it not?”

The moments of shame still dance in your head but his warm presence wards them off. His gaze has softened into something more, deeper. He knows all about you, he always has. So why not give into it. Give in to his gentle glance of love. “Amore….” he presses.

“Copia, thank you,” you whisper as he leans into an embrace.

“We'll laugh about this one day,” he purrs in your ear, his scent enveloping you once more. You bring a hand up to run your fingers through his hair and he utters one of his pleased little myehs that usually make you chuckle.

“Yeah, we will,” you sniff.

“Laugh about it on the Amalfi. Over some gelato. And now I'm retired we can really get into it, you know? Doing nothing somewhere nice. Would you like that?”

You would. The blue sky and the pink gelato and the white sand. His handsome freckled face laughing in the sun. His gold cornicello on a chain against his chest barely covered by a crisp linen summer shirt. And his black socks. Those fucking dress socks in his old man slides. Your smile returns. “I really would, Copia.”

He meets your eyes and senses the change in you, returns your shy smile with his own. “I love you,” he murmurs. He leans in close once more as his mouth meets yours. That tender kiss never gets old. What your mind can't learn from his words its taught with his lips. And they're damn good at convincing you you're loved more than you’ll ever know.

He pulls back with a gentle caress of your cheek and your tears become happy ones. You love this man, and he loves you. He'll love you whether he's sitting at an exotic cafe or your bedside at the hospital. It's the same place in his mind, as long as he's with you.

“But until then we can bear a few Downton Abbey reruns, si?” He settles in next to you and curls his fingers around your own. “What is this…lord so and so? What's her face em— what is she up to now?”

“You'll have to actually watch instead of talk over it, Copia dear,” you reply.

“Right, right. I'm suffering more than you, tesoro,” he chuckles. “Let's ah…keep it all in perspective, here.”

“Of course,” you say, and you rest your head on his chest. He's still wearing his silly apron but you couldn't care less. You can hear his heart beat through it just the same.

My Fic List | My AO3

Thank you for all your thoughts, kudos, kind words, reblogs, all o it

[sadistic-cardinal]

Call Me Copia

Copia x Sister of Sin

Word count: 1450

A Sister of Sin comes across a disassociating Frater Imperator and offers him a little bit of comfort. He is very stuck in his own head.

Post RHRN so there are some spoilers for the Ghovie.

Read it on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60551332

"Someone needs to do something."

"We can't just go up and bother members of the upper clergy."

"He has been stood there for four and a half hours, we can't just leave him."

"Well, I'm not getting in trouble. If you want to that's fine by me. Come on, Jen."

Sister Macy takes one last look at the back of the man in question before looping her arm through Sister Jen's and heading briskly down the long corridor, leaving the reluctant Lucy alone to make her own mind up about what to do.

Lucy sighs, wringing her hands as she listens to the fading footfalls of her friends' hasty retreat. Members of the upper clergy. Such formalities never seemed to apply to him before. Though far from a social butterfly, Copia never seemed the type of man that would turn you away or be angry at a genuine display of compassion. For all the nasty rumours that surrounded him, Lucy was always one to trust her own eyes and ears and what she saw of the former Papa he was a gentle, kind, somewhat awkward but infinitely patient man whose door was always open for siblings in need.

He was nothing like his mother. The late Sister Imperator. Stern. Cold. Dismissive. The iron fisted ruler of the Ministry who dispatched Ghouls and Papas at will. Though she was always good to him. Her son. At least in recent years. The whole situation was rather sad, Lucy thought. And more than likely the cause for Papa- no, Frater Imperator's- increasingly odd behaviour as of late. Siblings had noted him spacing out, far more than usual. His eyes, even under the black Papal paints, were sunken and hollow. Glassy. Lifeless. On more than one occasion he had been seen yelling at thin air. The paperwork was piling up, the Ghouls were distressed, and now he was standing in the hallway, looking into empty space, and had been for the past few hours.

No, it was not right to leave him like this, Lucy decided. Consequnces be damned, since when was it disallowed to ask Copia if he would like a cup of tea? That wouldn't exactly warrent an excommunication, would it?

She finds her feet moving and before she even realises what she is doing, she is next to him.

"P...-"

Good start. Almost calling him the wrong title. Lucy internally scolds herself for her mistake.

Although, in his current state he may appreciate his old one a little more. Maybe it would feel like none of this ever happened. Maybe he could believe he really was still Papa, still had his Ghouls, still had his mother. Even just for a moment. But then the illusion would shatter once again. No, not Papa. Not anymore.

"Frater Imperator?" She asks timidly.

Nothing. He is like a statue. If it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional blink she would have thought he too had been embalmed, like his brothers.

"Frater Imperator?" She says, a little louder.

Still nothing. She looks up at him and sees the tension. Practically feels it radiating off him. A thin sinew wound tight in his neck, his hands clamped together in front of his stomach, his shoulders absolutely rigid.

It is there she touches him, just below his shoulder.

"Copia." She says, firmly, as her fingers make contact with the pleasant texture of the very expensive black jacket he wears.

He stiffens instantly, sucking air through his teeth, and looks at her with an expression that reminds her of a frightened, cornered animal.

"Ah, s-sister. Hello. How do you do..?"

He manages, and she tries to fight off the pitying expression she can feel plastered all over her face.

"Just fine, Frater." She says gently, removing her hand before he notices.

"Um..."

He cocks an eyebrow at her, his gloved hands twisting together, a habit so deeply ingrained it is automatic at this point. They stare at eachother for what feels like an agonising eternity.

"Sister? May i help you? I am ah... i am quite busy."

It is Lucy's turn to cock an eyebrow.

"Frater... "

"Hmh?"

"You... um, you have been stood here for a while. I... just wanted to um... see if you needed anything...?"

Copia blinks.

"A while?"

He repeats back. Then he sees it. The pity. The concern. She doesn't have to tell him, it's written all over her face.

"...ah."

"Yes, Frater, i... i don't mean to interrupt but you've been in this corridor since two. It's... it's half past six now. Um... -"

"I see."

Copia sighs. He had done it again. It kept happening. Losing hours and hours. The tunnel vision. Feeling like he was outside himself. Seeing it again. The LA Forum. The view from a mile high. His mother. The paramedics. The Ghouls... Her body, lifeless-

"Copia?"

His name snaps him back to reality with an uncomfortable jolt. She was saying something. This pretty little Sister with her red hair and freckles. What was she saying?

"Perdonami?"

She smiles for the first time since the conversation started and his chest fills with warmth. A rare and pleasent sensation amidst the utter turmoil that accounts for most of his essence.

Then her hand is on him again, on his forearm and squeezing lightly. A sensation like electricity shoots upwards from the point of contact and he can hardly stand it.

The sheer open sincerity and kindness of the gesture almost breaks him right there.

He doesn't know her, not really. He has seen her around, of course, but what is this sweet little thing doing being kind to a weird old man like him? Respectful, yes, the siblings have to be, it comes with the position. But genuine kindness? That is not something he is often on the recieving end of. Odd. Awkward. Creepy. That's what they think of him. He is not stupid, he knows what they all say behind his back. And they're right, he knows this too. 'She should be running,' he thinks. What is she doing alone in a corridor with a man who can hardly control his own mind right now. She knows it. It is why she came over in the first place. She's speaking again. That gentle, soothing voice. Something about tea.

"Tea?" He blurts, just about having caught that as his thoughts began to spiral again. Her hand was gone from his arm but the lingering sensation of her touch remained. When was the last time someone had touched him? Was it when the stage hands had helped him up off the ground...-

"It always calms my nerves."

"What?"

Lucy smiles. For a Satanic nun she really did have the patience of a saint. What was she doing here?

"Camomile tea. It never fails. I have some... in my dorm. I could make you a cup, Frater? It's just... forgive me but you look like you could use a nice hot cup and... maybe... a little company?"

Damn where his mind went when she said that. Even in his moment of need when this girl comes to help he's still just an old letch-

"Yes."

"Yes? Great, I'll get it...-"

"Eh, no, you don't need to. I have some. I have some in my quarters."

He looks at her, idly tapping his fingers together, another nervous tick.

"If you're comfortable coming... eh...you don't have to...-"

Why must he be this awkward? She offered, didn't she? If this girl had any sense she would turn tail and run.

"I'd love to, Frater." A part of her must have sensed his need because in an instant her hand is looping through the crook of his elbow and gently guiding him along. His old knees creak, seizing from having been stood in one spot for so long, and he tries not to betray it on his face. Instead he concentrates on the feeling of her small hand ever so gently squeezing his arm. Again it is almost too much but oh how he craves it. The anxious tapping stops and he gently places his gloved hand over hers as they walk, feeling more present than he has in weeks.

"You... eh... what was your name again?" How rude not to have asked before. The shame turns his ears red and he steals a glance at her. She doesn't seem to mind.

"Lucy, Frater. Sister Lucy Corson." She says, giving his arm another gentle squeeze as they make their way through the Ministry.

He lets out a little sigh, making sure he commits it to memory, determined to remember every detail of this moment.

"Lucy. Eh... Please... just call me, Copia."

[bitemefightme]

Been thinking about Copia helping reader feel better when they're on their period. I think he'd just want to take care of you🥺 he just wants to baby you.

Bringing snacks and painkillers and plenty of water.

Making sure your duties within the mission are covered so you don't have to worry about it.

Even if he has to go because he has things he can't push off onto someone else he'll always make sure his most trusted ghouls are with you just in case you need anything.

He gets a weighted blanket, a hot pad, and lavender scented candles to try and help you relax.

He'll massage your back or even your lower belly if it helps.

He doesn't care if you're worried you'll bleed through your pad, you're sleeping in his bed with him so he can get you everything you need.

Nsfw ( we all knew it was going here don't act surprised)

He'd help you take a nice hot shower (even though you could absolutely do it by yourself) and gently massage your chest to help ease the tenderness.

I can see him gently fingering you and drawing as many orgasms from you as you'll let him because he read online once that it helps with cramps.

And don't worry if your tampon or deva cup gets stuck he'll gladly help you out. So what if he gets so mesmerized by the sight of the sticky strings of blood clinging from you to his fingers that he just can't stop staring? He thinks every part of you is sexy and if you're not too tender he'd love to make love to you.

[da-rulah]

Is there any way you could do one about Copia surprising reader with the prime mover ritual on their 5th wedding anniversary because he sees reader with the children of the clergy

This is such a sweet idea.... I hope this is the kind of thing you wanted 🥹

TW/ Mildly suggestive theme.

It was never the right time.

Between tours, Copia's ascension, your own promotions within the clergy and the mountains of work that needed doing, it had never been the right time.

In fact, since the day you had married, you hadn't had the time.

Which is probably why you spent as much of your free time as you could at the nursery for the children of the Clergy and Siblings. It wasn't your job, you had no duty there but in the absence of the chance to have your own children, you had found yourself wanting to just be around them, maternal instincts too strong.

Copia had just returned from another tour - finishing in Australia this time, and he was looking forward to a few months respite before heading out again on another album cycle. He could spend All Hallow's Eve with you, Yule too but most importantly, your wedding anniversary was coming soon - the first he'd been able to spend with you at home in two years.

After spending some time recovering from his ridiculous jet lag, he had emerged looking for you one morning to find you playing with the children of the Clergy, jumping into piles of raked leaves in the grounds of the Ministry.

His heart thrummed in his chest at the sight. How radiant you looked, surrounded by the autumnal oranges and reds, smiling so brightly as you skipped through the piles, throwing some over the children with a laugh that sounded like the sweetest song.

He ached to give you that, to give you the children he knew you'd always wanted. He wanted that too, wanted to be the father he never had to a tiny version of you...

You looked up to see him stood on the steps of the Ministry, stilling the spin you were in whilst holding a little one's hands and waving to him instead, beautiful smile widening at the sight of your husband, your Papa, watching on. Had you been any closer, you might have see the glossy look in his eyes, but from a distance, you were none the wiser that anything was amiss.

It was this look that gave him the idea.

A week had gone by, and he'd seen you more often that not playing with the children at the nursery or out in the leaves again. He saw you teaching them to paint, to read, to dance, and his heart swelled a little more each time.

The night of your Fifth wedding anniversary had come around quickly, and as far as you were aware, you were to join him for dinner, meeting at his office once you were ready, in the gorgeous deep red gown he had bought for you - if you liked it, of course. His little (expensive) treat.

But when you arrived at his office, he was nowhere to be seen. You sighed, hoping he hadn't been tangled up with Sister Imperator in an overrun meeting or got into a verbal boxing match with his useless spectre of a father again. But you noticed a note on his desk, addressed to 'mia cara moglie' - his darling wife.

Cara,

Please join me in the Chapel, I have my gift to you waiting.

Hurry - I can barely wait any longer.

~ C

You wondered what on earth he could possibly have waiting in the Chapel for you - you could only imagine he had set up a picturesque dinner surrounded by candlelight, perhaps with his newer Ghouls playing their beautiful cellos in the background.

On your way through the halls, you noticed an eerie feeling, a stillness, a quietness you should only experience in the early hours of the morning in these halls... But not a single sibling or ghoul was in sight, not a shuffle of feet or a click of a door latch... Just silence.

When you reached the large double doors of the Chapel, two of Papa's favourite Ghouls - Swiss and Phantom - were stood, hands clasped behind them, in their formal attire.

"This is a bit much for dinner, boys..." you laughed. They shared a look that you couldn't quite discern from behind their masks... You grew suspicious.

Without a word, they opened the doors, stepping to the side to allow you to see just what Copia had waiting for you.

The Chapel was full, standing room only. Every single sibling and clergy member filled the pews, the balconies, lined the walls. When the doors had opened, they all stood and turned to face you. And then you noticed Copia...

He stood at the alter, Sister Imperator to his left, and Papa Nihil floating to his right. He was dressed in his Papal robes, gems glinting beautifully on his Mitre in the candlelight. He smiled at you, taking a deep breath out of his own nerves, and held his gloved hand out to you.

Swiss and Phantom moved to your sides, offering their elbows to walk you down the aisle between the pews of the Chapel. As you did, your audience sent you looks of happiness, of pride. They looked at you like they had on your wedding day, five years ago.

At the front of the Chapel, the Ghouls stepped away from you, bowing to Papa and making themselves scarce to the edge of the Chapel. Copia removed his gloves, and took your hands in his.

"Copia, what's going on? Are you... are we renewing our vows?" you asked, fighting tears as the mere thought of it.

"In a way, Cara... I wanted to ask you something," he brings your hands up to kiss your knuckles, one at a time. "I have so much I wish to give you, so much more to offer you. But this must come first. And if you are not ready, I will understand, and a vow renewal is all this will be."

Your heart beat like a hummingbird's wings in your chest, sending rippling flutters through your body. He wasn't about to... surely not...

"I could never imagine my future without you, you know this. And what a future we could have," he began, "Amore mio, would you ascend with me? Will you become my Prime Mover?"

The Hummingbird stopped. Time stopped. The earth's rotation stopped.

Prime Mover was a step above marriage; it was a sacred binding, offered only to the truest of soulmates, the chosen few who would continue the lineage of the Papacy. It had to be passed from one Prime Mover, to the next - like a crown from one Queen to the next.

And here was Sister Imperator, ready and waiting to give that to you.

"Copia... Prime Mover?" you asked, in disbelief. You hadn't talked about the lineage for so long, hadn't thought the time for children together would be anywhere close and yet this was exactly what he was asking of you.

To perform the Ancient Rite, to bind yourselves under Lucifer's gaze and receive his blessing to bring new life into the world to continue his work.

"If you are ready, amore..." You saw his anxiety, waiting for an answer that you hadn't given yet.

"Y-yes... Yes. Of course! I want to be your Prime Mover... I want that with you, Copia," you launched yourself forwards in a moment of unceremonious need to be close to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and almost knocking his Mitre from his head. He steadied himself in time, enveloping you in his long sleeves of his robes as he held you to him.

"Then let's perform the ritual, the binding... And then the rest of the night, amore..." he pulled back from your embrace, moving to whisper in your ear for only you to hear, "we will spend together. Alone."

A rush of goosebumps raised on your skin at his promise, and he winked at you as he pulled back.

"Sister, we are to go ahead..." he smiled at his Mother, who in her pride, could only nod and smile back without tears spilling from her eyes.

And after the vows, the incense, the blood oath... Copia took you back to your quarters as promised - as his Prime Mover, future mother to his children.

And he would not let you go until he was sure he had completed the ritual...

[copiousloverofcopia]

imagine copia about to become papa iv and his prime mover saying something like "you're going to be papa" and he's like duh, not getting it at all, and she literally has to go "no, you're going to be *papa*" and that's how she breaks the news to him

It's a shame how long it's been since I got this...like a year. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Hopefully this little sumthin sumthin will be worth it.

And Then It Hit Him

You have news for your husband, Cardinal Copia on the brink of his ascension to the Papacy, but will he stop long enough to listen?

Also available on AO3 HERE!

You were doing your best to remain patient, though the news was burning from inside you. Wringing the fabric of your habit in your fingers as you waited for the perfect moment to interrupt him. Your husband had barely looked up from his parchments since you entered. A comfortable silence between you as you noted his hands were once again covered in ink. 

You were instantly transported back to when your dear sweet Cardinal was only the Ministry treasurer, and you still a naive novitiate. A time when you fell hard and fast in love with eachother. Watching with joy as he ascended the ranks of the Ministry. Proving himself worthy of his station at each and every turn. 

Now he was only weeks away from the announcement that he would receive the miter. The highest honor that only the select few could ever hope to achieve within the church. Truth be told you had wondered if your news would pale in comparison, but knowing Copia as you did, there was no way it would.

"Cope..." You nudge, hoping to finally garner his attention. Copia stopped, pulling his glasses off from where they hung on the bridge of his nose and began rubbing his eyes. Clearly he hadn't moved them from his work for more than a few second at a time.

"I'm so sorry cara, I just have so much work that needs to be done before I head back out on tour. If I leave anything unfinished Sister will have my head for it." He responded, taking your hand in his. His eyes, returning to his desk. You could tell he was worn down by it. The endless bureaucracy of the Ministry trampling over him in the guise of all this paper and ink.

"Copia, my love...I know you have a lot on your plate, but I—I just have something I wanted to tell you." 

"Of course, what is it?" He asked you, a sweet smile sent your way.

"Well.." You began, rounding his desk and placing your head on his shoulder. Breathing in the scent of his cologne. Like old books and patchouli, a scent that had intoxicated you night after night for so long now. It hardly seemed fair just how much it had affected you. Like a spell cast on your senses. Clearly it was one of the many reasons, like his undeniable charm, that led to you being in this position. "Soon my love…you are going to be a Papa.”

You were surprised when Copia's reaction was lacking. Letting out a sigh as he finished up the sentence he had been writing. "I know, I know. That's why I have to get this done." He explained, clear now that he had completely missed what you were trying to tell him. You thought for a moment, trying to decide if you could stand one more minute of knowing it all on your own, before finally you let out a groan.

It stopped him, Copia catching on that you needed him. Letting the pen drop to the desk as he pulled his attention away from the plethora of papers decorating it to face you. Heeding you as you gently brought his jaw up to help face you. Your eyes locked with his when he gently kissed your hand. The hair of his sideburns, tickling your palm as you spoke.

"No…Copia.” You began, a note of both amusement and disbelief in your voice, “...that's not what I was trying to say.” 

“I'm sorry amore… you should have had my full attention. Please…what is it you wanted to tell me?”

“I'm trying to tell you, you silly man, that you are going to be A PAPA.” You emphasized by taking his hand and placing it on the small of your belly. Suddenly it was clear to him. Hitting him all at once as his eyes began stinging with tears. He stared at your still inconspicuous belly. Both mystified and deliriously happy before looking up at you.

“Amore, are you sure?” he asked you. His voice quivering—a mess of emotions. You could feel Copia's hand trembling as his thumb gently glided over your stomach. Already so gentle and tender with a child he had only just discovered existed.

“I'm very sure Cope…we’re going to have a baby.” You smiled. 

“Sweet Satanas, I'm going to be a Papa!” Copia yelped, casting himself up from the chair and pulling you tightly into his arms. Blissfully crying and whispered praises in Italian, his hand never leaving your belly. You began to laugh. Copia looking up at you once again just as your own tears began streaming down your face.

“A papa and Papa.” 

Notes:

novitiate- nun or sister in training 

[kyraisdead]

Drunken Tears - Pt. 2 (Copia x Reader, domestic violence but NOT from Copia)

You can read part 1 here! Or on ao3, if you'd like.

Hangover is a bitch.

As you woke, you felt like death. The cheap mattress in the standard Abbey bedroom was hard against your back, worsening your already splitting headache. It was a feeling you weren't yet used to. Secondo had introduced you to the good alcohol some time ago, but it was never a frequent indulgence— not until recently. He was sharing something he loved with you. He was trying to be kind for once, and you couldn't be angry with him for that, could you?

Despite instantly recognizing the room, you hadn't considered how exactly you had gotten there. Following Secondo to his room at night had become a habit, so why were you in your old quarters? You grabbed aimlessly at the nightstand for your cell, managing only to knock off an alarm clock before you realized it was in your pocket. Your pants were still on. You hadn't changed before getting into bed. Sighing, you left it be, sitting up in bed as you cradled your head. Though, out of the corner of your eye, you notice a small slip of paper. Lovely Italian stationery from the notepad of a clergyman. Secondo carried around the same kind. Only his signature wasn't there, and there was nothing to indicate he was the one who brought you here.

You felt ill last night. Secondo was busy, so I brought you here. I hope you don't mind.

C.E

C, C, C. Who did you know whose name began with a C? It was unlikely, but only one name rolled from your tongue. "Copia." He was a kind man. Though somewhat avoidant at times, he'd always been good to you.

Forcing yourself out of bed and dodging a few unused belongings on the floor, you went to your closet, retrieving one of the two spare uniforms you kept as a just-in-case. You swiped on your deodorant before pulling your top over your head, trying to mask the smell of staling liquor before leaving for work. There were plenty of partying Siblings of Sin in the Ministry who woke up and attended to their chores first thing. It was their norm, and though it wasn't yours, the clergy still held you to the same standard.

You meandered out of your room, several Siblings already out and about, working or chattering in the halls. Sun shone brightly through lightly tinted windows, the day already half-passed. You'd be up until midnight, trying to get everything done. As you head for the stairs, you're by a hand landing gently on the center of your back. You turned around slowly, not wanting to aggravate your stiff back. One of the Sisters needed your attention, although her name is lost on you now. Despite your lack of recognition, there was concern in her dark eyes as she leaned in to whisper to you, "Papa Secondo asked to see you in his office." You're being summoned to the execution room, then. Rarely did Secondo take visitors into his office, not even when that visitor was supposed to be important to him. You nodded, wiping your face with your hands and brushing your hair with your fingers as you descended the carved stone stairs. Much to his frustration, his office wasn't far from the abbey, only a short walk.

"I was waiting for you." He started speaking before you'd fully stepped into the room. Still, his head didn't lift as he waited for you to sit down. His mannerisms were cold and business-like, as if you were his underling and not his romantic partner.

"Secondo," you greeted him, giving him what you hoped appeared to be an easy smile. He looked frustrated, but he wasn't angry with you. He'd never be angry with you, he promised.

His pen fell loudly onto the old mahogany desk, and he rose from his chair, circling you like a shark in bloodied water. "You didn't make it back to my chambers last night."

"I was told you were busy."

"I was." His voice is brutally soft. It could cut you if you weren't careful. You might as well have been the most reckless person alive. "But you usually knock at least, don't you? See if you can come and be with me for the night?" For the night, he said, as if you were looking for some casual hookup with him and not a night-in with the man who once swore he'd love you forever.

"I-"

You felt his hand on the back of your neck, his skin cold like a reptile. "I was expecting you, you know. I go through so much trouble, staying up late and waiting for you to return to our room, just for you not to show?"

"I didn't mean to, Secondo," you tell him, leaning into his hand almost involuntarily. "I wasn't feeling well. Papa Copia had to walk me back to my room."

"So I was told," he responds, his hand slowly falling away as he moves to lean against the edge of his desk closest to you. "Copia? Really? I let you sleep in my chambers, hold my hand, and allow you to live like a sybarite on my wealth, and this is what you do to me?"

Your mouth stayed closed, your eyes wide in shock and genuine confusion. Secondo was so bright, so brilliant. Was he doing this to mock you? It had to be an attempt to make you uneasy, to say something he knew you didn't do. His taciturn nature was scarcely broken. When words breached the carefully crafted silence, they came with a backing of cruelty.

"Papa," you say, using his title to calm him—a silent compliment to stroke his ravenous ego. "Copia was only walking me. I was unwell. He had no ill intentions, I swear it!"

"And yet, you were intoxicated," he responded, pretending to stifle a laugh. "I know how men think, Miele. He wouldn't have walked you back to your room without 'ill intentions.' I certainly wouldn't have."

"He's not like that!" The words came out of your mouth without thinking. You watched as Secondo's head snapped up, mismatched eyes freezing over with a glaze of mendacious hurt.

"Oh? And you think you know him like that, then?" he hisses, crossing the short distance between you with one step and holding your face with a nearly painful grip. "How well do you know him, exactly? To think you're fraternizing with my brother. I thought I knew you!"

You felt the urge to go along with him and apologize, an instinct you'd learned over time to keep the peace. You didn't want to lose him, but it was an accusation this time. You didn't want to apologize for something so severe when you didn't do it.

"I wasn't betraying you," you tell him, tone firmer than he'd heard in quite some time. "You know I wasn't, Secondo. I would've been in more danger walking back to my room myself than I was with him, and you know it! You know your brother, and by extension, I do as well. He wouldn't hurt me, but plenty of other men would! Can't you just be grateful? Just this once?"

His hand fell away from your face only momentarily, and you thought he might be listening to you and making some effort to understand. You watched him, watched as he lifted his hand and-

Kcssh!

He struck you. Your life, your world, your everything, had struck you.

[ollies-station]

Does anyone take copia x reader requests 👉👈

I kinda want fluff stuff but rn I’m not finding anything good;-;