#copia fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kidstemplatte · 5 months

Text

the greatest

summary: cardinal copia becomes a father.

warnings: brief mention of suicide || wc: 8.3k

notes: reader is terzo's wife. i recommend checking out my other works to learn more about the (now expanding) family! message at the end as per usual, enjoy <3

“You’d be a good Papa.”

His niece’s kind words still echoed in his mind, even after nearly five years.

The Cardinal had wanted to become a father for quite some time now but wasn’t sure if he was fit for the job. He was a bit of a child, which could be considered a pro or a con; the upside being he was fun and pure-hearted, the downside that he could be a tad chaotic.

When Copia was summoned to Sister Imperator’s office, he assumed it was because he had forgotten to turn off the stove again or left the sink running, habits from his youth he was yet to abandon even as a middle-aged man. Bracing himself for another lecture, the Cardinal took a deep breath in and out before knocking three times on the sturdy oak door.

“Come in.” A hoarse voice rang from within the room.

Copia gently pushed the door open and entered the lavish office. Sister Imperator’s office couldn’t differ anymore from the Cardinal’s, sporting a classy yet minimalistic aesthetic decked in shades of brown and black. Meanwhile, Copia’s office had “Copia” written all over it in big cartoonish block letters, thanks to the dozens of figurines and comic books lining the shelves, as well as other dorky memorabilia. Sister Imperator sat behind her meticulously organized desk, her clasped hands resting on the polished wood.

“Hello, Sister.” Copia greeted the woman formally, bowing his head as he took a seat in the plush chair across from hers.

“Cardinal.” She returned the greeting with a brief nod, before instantly diving into her reason for his summoning. “Do you recall, a few years back, when a Sister of the Austrian chapter took her own life?” she inquired.

Of course he did, how could he not? It was a tragic day, each chapter holding its own memorial ceremony for the young woman.

“Oh. Sì, I do.” Copia answered, saddened at the remembrance of the event.

“Well, she had a son additionally, who had an absent father.”

Been there.

“They have done their best to take care of the boy since he was just a newborn- he’s resided in the church his whole life- but as he’s gotten older, they’ve decided it’s simply not fit for him to grow up without a permanent system of support.” She explained.

Copia suddenly became much more alert, his eyes widening and posture straightening. “You mean… a family?”

“C, if you’re interested…”

Sister Imperator noticed a longing in her son’s eyes that she had not seen in a long time- not since he was but a child brimming with curiosity, a subtle glow that surfaced only when he wanted something deeply, most of the time, an answer- but this time- it was more than curiosity, it was yearning. “Now would be the time.”

“Yes.” The Cardinal blurted out. “Yes.”

“The adoption process is not easy- let alone raising a child. This is a massive responsibility. Are you sure you can handle this on top of a Cardinal’s duties?” She cautioned him.

“Yes, Mother.” He reiterated.

She froze.

“I want this more than anything.” He pleaded.

“I will notify them of your consideration.” She nodded.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. Grazie. Grazie.” The Cardinal repeated like a mantra, placing his hands together as he bowed his head in gratitude.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Gently shutting the door to your son’s room, you walked down the hall and into the living space, pleasantly surprised to see your brother-in-law sitting in a lounge chair across from the couch. “Hi, Copia! What a nice surprise.” You greeted him with a smile. “Sorry, I just put Vinnie to bed. Am I allowed to join, or is this a brother talk?”

“Please, join us.” Copia gestured. “Is Violetta here?” he asked.

“Oh, she’s in her room. She’s not feeling very well tonight.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that, let her know I said hello.” Copia responded.

“Will do. So, what is going on?” Terzo asked, reaching to the coffee table in front of him and pouring his brother a glass of wine.

Copia took a deep breath in and began. “Sister Imperator called me into her office today and gave me some news.”

“News that..?”

You elbowed Terzo in response to his impatience. “Let the man speak!”

“Eh, do you remember when a woman of the Austrian chapter, um… She took her own life?”

“Johanna?” You asked.

“You knew her?”

“Not too personally, but yes. I met her years back when I studied briefly in Innsbruck. She was a lovely woman.” You recalled, sadness beginning to tug at your heart. “Sorry, continue.” You dismissed yourself, knowing if you continued, there would surely be a few tears.

“Oh, no, do not apologize. Please, continue, if you are comfortable.”

“Okay.” you sniffled, laughing nervously. “There’s not much else, it’s just- it was sad. My bad, go on.”

Your husband placed a loving hand over yours, a subtle way he reminded you that you were safe with him.

Copia nodded. “Well, she had a son, who has lived in the church his whole life. But, um, they are considering finding him a more traditional… family.” He explained.

“Here?” Terzo inquired.

“Si, ah… with me.”

“You are adopting him?”

“If everything goes according to plan, yes.” He replied slightly hesitantly.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Copia!” You nearly cried, your face lighting up with joy.

He laughed, a smile grazing his face at the idea. “Ah, well, we don’t know for sure yet. The process is a bit difficult. I fear it won’t work out.”

“Copia, you can’t mourn the loss of something that’s just beginning!” You encouraged him.

“Do you think Sister Imperator would ever propose such a thing to someone she didn’t trust could do it?” pointed out Terzo.

“That is a good point,” Copia replied. “I just… even if it works out… what if I am not… good?” He rambled anxiously.

“Not good? Our kids can’t get enough of you.” Terzo reassured his brother.

The Cardinal smiled at the thought of his niece and nephew.

“So what do you know about him?” You asked eagerly.

“Well, ah, that’s actually all I know… And that he’s four years old.”

“Oh my gosh! He’s the same age as Vinnie! It was meant to be!” You gushed, excitedly waving your hands. “Copia. I think it’s gonna happen. I really, really do.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” He expressed his gratitude with a heartfelt smile.

“Mommy?” You heard a voice squeak in the distance.

Turning around in your spot on the couch, a small figure stood down the hallway.

“Hi, Vinnie. What’s wrong?” You asked, a gentle tone adorning your voice. “Excuse me, I’ll be back.” You told your brother-in-law and husband as you rose to your son’s aid.

“Copia.” Terzo addressed his brother, his voice suddenly earnest.

“Yes?”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Pondering the question and recalling no particular incident, he shrugged.

“Exactly. You can do this,” stated Terzo, his words few yet meaningful, clearly touching the heart of his beloved half-brother.

“Thank you, Terzo.”

Terzo smiled, his eyes conveying a depth of sincerity. “I mean it, fratello.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The Cardinal closed the door to his small abode and let out a hefty sigh. His expression softened a little as he caught sight of the large cage sitting on a table against the wall, inside containing two furry friends. Inside the enclosure stood a gray rat, once brown, perched on his hind feet and clutching onto the metal bars, eagerly waiting for his Papa’s return.

“Ciao, Bean.” Copia cooed, opening the drawer below his cage and opening their bag of food. “I’m guessing your brother is…” Copia scanned his eyes around the cage, his suspicions confirmed once he noticed Pesto’s nose peeking out from a small wooden hideout. “Ah, did I wake you up, my Bestie Pestie? I apologize. Buon appetito, little ones.” He said, opening their cage and pouring their food as the little rodents scurried to their bowls.

That night, the Cardinal felt inclined to do something he hadn’t done in a long time.

Overwhelmed with an immense sense of desperation, Copia prayed on his own in the solitude of his room. He knelt beside his bed, knees on the hardwood floor as he placed his hands together and shut his eyes tight, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he began his prayer.

“Tua empietà, so che è passato un po' di tempo. perdonami, ti prego, ma devo chiederti una cosa. per favore, satana, concedimi il dono della paternità, per favore. Farò qualsiasi cosa, viaggerò all'inferno e ritorno, per trasformare questo sogno in realtà. Prego che il ragazzo stia bene e al sicuro e trovi la sua nuova casa tra le mura del clero.”

And just as Copia was lying in bed, about to doze off, he opened his heavy eyes; and through the darkness of the room caught sight of a poster featuring a cat, reading “Hang in there, baby!”, a silly yet needed reminder for Copia to persevere.

He needed this. More than he had ever needed anything in his entire life.

Little did he know, the boy needed him just as much.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Throughout the next few months, the adoption process was proven to be just as lengthy and overwhelming as it was described as, the heightened levels of anxiety meaning Copia frequently had trouble sleeping, finding himself spending late nights in the Clergy’s grand library. Basking in the comfort of a large plush chair a few feet from the crackling fireplace, Copia was nose-deep in a book entitled “Raising Your Children With Satan.”

“Can’t sleep?” A voice said just a few feet from where the Cardinal sat in the plush armchair. Looking up, Copia was faced with his eldest brother, Primo.

“Primo! What are you-”

“I had a feeling you might be here.” The man reckoned. “I understand these are stressful times, but you need to get some rest, for Satan’s sake! You look exhausted!”

“Ay, but that’s why I can’t sleep! I just toss and turn in bed for hours and hours until I give up.” He complained, punctuating his sentence with a sigh.

“You know I have all sorts of remedies for that. Why did you not ask me?”

“I… I don’t know. I guess I felt like I was already asking too much of people.” The Cardinal admitted, sighing and setting his book down on the table beside him.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’ve asked a single thing of me throughout this whole process.”

Copia opened his mouth to respond, but no retaliations were heard as he realized that Primo was, in fact, correct. As usual. “I suppose… that is true.”

“Indeed it is. But I want to let you know you can always ask anything of me, Copia. I am not a father, but you could say I’ve done my fair share of parenting.” He chuckled. “And beyond that, I’m your brother, I’m here for you no matter what the issue is. Even if I cannot relate fully.” He comforted Copia, reaching across and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you. I’m just… very scared.” The Cardinal admitted.

“Why is that?” questioned Primo.

“I have no idea what I’m doing. Parenting. I just… I have- no idea.”

Parenting?

Just outside the walls of the library, Violetta, unable to fall asleep, stood with her ear pressed against the door, her mouth agape as she began to piece together the fragments of the conversation. Her uncle, Copia, had been notably distant lately, and now, standing on the precipice of this revelation, she couldn't help but wonder if this- parenting- was the reason. Primo's laughter, warm and familiar, seeped through the walls, filling the air with a sense of camaraderie.

"Nobody does, fratello. Do you know how scared Terzo was? He was at my door practically every other night, rambling to me because he was too concerned he would further stress (Y/N) with all his worries."

Violetta's heart fluttered with a mix of emotions. Thrilled by the news that her beloved uncle was going to be a father, she couldn't shake the twinge of hurt that accompanied the realization that she hadn't been enlightened of this information. Her young mind grappled with conflicting sentiments—elation for the impending addition to the family, yet a pang of longing for the connection she wished she had shared with Copia. As the weight of the revelation settled, tears began to well up in her eyes, her heart aching while she turned around and silently made her way back to her room.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

6 months had passed since Sister Imperator gave her son the news: There was a little boy in Innsbruck, Austria, who needed a permanent system of support. Or, in normal people terms, a family. And there Copia sat in the very same chair he did on that first day, anxiously leaning forward while Sister Imperator gave him an even better piece of news: he had found one.

“It’s official.”

It was like time froze; the months of meetings and paperwork, and beyond that, years of longing, had all led up to this pivotal moment.

“I- we- it’s been finalized?” Copia exclaimed. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.”

Sister Imperator suddenly felt a surge in her heart, upon witnessing her son’s ecstatic reaction.

“Congratulations, Copia. You’re a father.”

Thank Satan Copia always kept a handkerchief in his pocket.

“…C?”

“I know I was not a perfect mother. And, I…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I want to do better this time around as a grandmother. And a mother. You are my family, and I’ve been quiet about that. It is the biggest regret I’ve ever had. But you, Copia, are not a secret. You are my son.” She confessed, reaching across the desk to place her hand over Copia’s. “And I am proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“I love you, Copia.”

“I love you too.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Copia spent the next few weeks frantically preparing for the arrival of the new family member. His Cardinal’s suite he had resided in for years was now empty, as he was moving into a larger suite with an extra bedroom and bathroom. The man was beyond stressed- He didn’t know how to properly decorate a room for a child, let alone assemble the furniture. Copia was quite satisfied with the simple layout of his old room, with strikingly lavish decor consisting of a pull-out bed, lava lamp, and a cat poster that read, “Hang in there, Baby!” Yeah, he was definitely taking that. Unsure at first who to ask for help, the Cardinal realized the person best suited for the job was his dear sister-in-law.

“This is such a nice space!” You gawked, following him into the room that would soon belong to the young boy. “And it has such a nice view!” Walking to the window, you were astonished to see the room was just in view of the Clergy’s beautiful garden and somber forest behind it. “Okay, so I think since it’s a twin bed, it should go against this wall,” you suggested. "There’s gonna still be some space after assembling this stuff,” you gestured to the boxes lying against the wall, “but maybe we should leave some space so he can pick what he wants.”

“Okie dokie. Sounds good. Shall we get to work?” Copia prompted.

Your attempt to build the bed was short-lived, you and your brother-in-law soon cackling loudly at your evident lack of skills.

“Damn you, IKEA,” Copia chuckled, squinting at the fine print on the instruction manual.

“What’s going on in here?” You heard a familiar voice echo through the bare room, your husband walking inside and noticing you two were having some trouble with the task at hand.

“We’re just, ah... struggling a bit with this furniture.” Copia laughed, gesturing to the various pieces in front of him.

“I know just the ghoul who can assist,” Terzo replied.

“Oh, it’s fine, we can figure it out-”

“Nonsense! Omega!” Terzo clapped his hands, to which the ghoul quite literally appeared out of thin air. “Hello, Omega!” chimed Terzo, who loved nothing more than to torment the poor man.

“Hello, Papa. Copia. Y/N.” Omega greeted you.

“Would you be a dear and assemble this furniture for my dear brother?”

“It- it has instruc-“

“Yes, and so do you, silly ghoul!” Terzo said, reaching to pat the tall man on the back and holding his hand out towards the unassembled bedframe.

Omega sighed and chuckled, “Yes, Papa.”

“Thank you, Omega.”

Suddenly, Terzo crept behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, your eyes widening in fear of his next words, though your face heated up at his contact. Your husband, though you loved him dearly, often had little-to-no filter regarding intimate matters, and his sudden affection warned you he was about to let something slip. “It feels like just yesterday we were making Omega set up the nursery…” He reminisced.

“Terzo, ‘we’ is you. I didn’t make him do anything.” You laughed.

“You know, maybe we’ll do the next one ourselves.” he suggested wickedly, completely ignoring the innocent bystanders in the room.

“The next one? No, sir.” You swatted his wandering hand.

“I’m going to put this drill through my ears.” You heard Omega mumble in the corner.

“So, Copia! Three weeks! That’s so soon!” You exclaimed. "We're gonna tell the kids tomorrow." You announced, grinning at the thought of their reactions.

"Oh boy. I wonder how they will react."

"They will be beyond thrilled." Terzo reassured Copia.

Through the window, the sky was fading into a hazy orange. “Papa, don’t you have a meeting soon?” Omega asked his boss, who was known for being just a tad forgetful.

“I appreciate your help, dear Omega, but the meeting is on Thursday.” He said assuredly, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Today is Thursday.”

“What- it is?” Terzo exclaimed, checking his watch, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he realized he had a mere minute to make it to his office. “Shit!” Terzo began dashing out of the room, then spun around on his heels as he realized he had forgotten something very important. Leaning towards you, your husband gave you your ritual-esque goodbye kiss, pecking you on the cheek before turning around once again and bolting off.

“If he can do it, so can you.” You laughed with your brother-in-law, beginning to assist Omega with his newly-assigned task.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Violetta couldn’t sleep. She figured there might be someone else who couldn’t either, someone she hadn’t spoken to in a while. Carefully tiptoeing through the dark hall and down the stairs, she made her way to the library with deliberate caution. Entering the library, she caught sight of Copia sitting in a cozy armchair, nose deep in a book, completely oblivious of her presence, as he had seemingly been for the past few months. His eyes darted up as he caught sight of his 10-year-old niece in her pajamas, standing by the entrance with her arms crossed.

“Violetta!” He exclaimed, frantically shutting the book and setting it aside. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I dunno. Sometimes I walk around at night when I can’t sleep. But, uh, I also thought you might be here.” His niece answered anxiously.

“Eh- Why do you think that?”

She shrugged, an awkward silence plaguing the room before Violetta broke the ice. “Is that a parenting book?” She asked, pointing to the book Copia had tossed aside.

“Uh…” Clearly, it was a parenting book. It had the word “PARENTING” engraved on the spine in shiny gold lettering- there was no way for him to play it off. “Yes.”

“Why are you reading a parenting book?” Before her uncle could respond, she immediately regretted asking, feeling uneasy about the question. It wasn't a lie, per se, but it felt dishonest considering she was well aware of the reason. “Actually… I’m sorry. I know why.” She confessed, looking at the ground, a sense of guilt flooding her heart.

Copia was dumbfounded. How did she find out? It’s not that he was upset she knew, he just didn’t understand how that came to be- he was positive Terzo didn’t tell her, nor the other brothers. Had he let something slip?

“How did you find out?” Copia asked.

“I… I heard a conversation you and Primo had in here. I’m sorry I listened. I didn’t tell anyone. I promise.” she confessed, her voice becoming shaky as her eyes remained glued to the ground.

“Oh, Violetta, it’s okay.”

“…Okay.” She said, still feeling guilty.

“I'm sorry Violetta, you do not have to cry, it’s okay. I promise, it is. I didn’t want to keep anything secret from you, I was just scared that if things did not go as planned, it would disappoint you.” He reassured her, his voice gentle and caring.

“I didn’t disappoint you, right?” Violetta sniffled, wiping tears from her eyes as she looked him in the eyes once again.

“No, no, no- I would have done the same thing. In fact, I’m very impressed and honored that you kept it a secret. That is not easy.” He lovingly comforted her.

Violetta smiled. “Thanks.”

“I'm sorry I have not spent much time with you recently... I have been so busy. But he is almost here, after all this time.”

“He?”

“Ay, I really can’t keep my mouth shut, can I?” he laughed. “Well, I might as well tell you more since I’ve already begun…” he figured, patting the arm of the seat next to him.

Violetta smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes as she took a seat beside him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, my dear Violetta.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Though Violetta unconventionally discovered her uncle’s secret, her brother’s reaction was a drastically different experience. You and Terzo called your son into the living room, to which he bolted in and looked up at you with his sparkling mismatched eyes.

“Vinnie, do you want to hear something very exciting?” Terzo cheerfully asked his son, picking him up and placing him into his lap as he bounced his leg up and down, often one of the few ways to keep him from moving around on his own.

“Yes! Please! Please!” Vinnie begged, giggling.

“You have a cousin that’s going to be here very soon!” Terzo informed him.

“What?!” Vinnie gawked.

“Yes! Your Uncle Copi is going to adopt a boy who’s exactly your age!” You exclaimed, sitting beside them on the couch.

“Yay!!! What’s adopt?” Vinnie tilted his head.

“You know Violetta’s good friend Carmen?” You asked him.

“Yeah!”

“Do you remember her two mommies?”

“Yeah!”

“They adopted Carmen. She was born somewhere else but then she became their baby!” You continued.

“Oh, okay,” Vinnie responded.

“And Uncle Copi is adopting a son from Austria!” You explained enthusiastically.

“With the koalas?”

Terzo chuckled. “You’re very close, Vinnie. That’s Australia.” He said, ruffling his son's hair.

“Oh, I get it. He’s in…”

“Austria.” You assisted him.

“He’s in Austria now and he’s gonna be here! And now Uncle Copia is going to be his Papa.” Vinnie processed.

“Sì!”

“Okay. Yay! When do I get to meet my new cousin?” Your son asked eagerly.

“Two weeks.” You replied.

“Two whole weeks?” Vinnie repeated as you had just informed him he would have to wait a millennium. “I thought you said soon!”

“I know, we’re all very excited.” Terzo added, amused by his son’s enthusiasm.

“I’m so excited! Yay, cousin!” The little boy started kicking his feet, a telltale sign that he needed to let some energy out. Vinnie was a little fireball, constantly moving. While Violetta grew up satisfied with playing in the comfort of her room, her brother was like a windup toy, exhibiting bursts of energy before inevitably crashing and needing to rest. “Can I go outside?” He asked, pointing at the door.

You and Terzo were familiar with Vinnie’s harmless need to release his energy and sought to embrace it rather than suppress it. Terzo chuckled, gently placing his son on the ground, walking over to the door and opening it. Vinnie wasted no time, darting through the doorway at lightning speed while you and Terzo laughed.

“He’s so adorable.” You observed your son, zooming around in circles around the grass like a little Tasmanian devil.

“I hope he never grows out of his spark.” Terzo chuckled.

“He won’t. Not as long as you’re his Papa.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Soon, the long-awaited day arrived. Copia and Sister Imperator stood in anticipation by the doors of the entrance. Though he was incredibly fearful, he had been waiting for this day his entire life, he put on a brave face. He couldn’t let his nerves show. Not now. Who was he to be afraid when the poor boy was certainly terrified and confused beyond measure? It was Copia’s responsibility to ensure the boy felt safe and welcome in the Clergy; he couldn’t do that if he himself was displaying unease. The solemn moment was interrupted by a knock on the door, making Copia jolt in shock. His mother, noticing his panic, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave him a soft yet reassuring smile.

“In,” she gently instructed, the two breathing in, a ritual they often did when Copia was younger and feeling anxious, “And out.”

Copia exhaled his worries, letting them disappear into the air, smiling at his mother before opening the door and being faced with a social worker and a little boy. He had blonde hair, dusty freckles, and a pair of glimmering blue eyes, wearing a pair of blue headphones of sorts around his neck. His eyes spastically darted around, to the ground, to the door, to the sky, to the walls of the church, and for a brief moment, Copia. The poor boy was visibly petrified, having been through a lot of travel and confusion that was surely enough to rattle his young mind, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly.

“Hello, Augustus.” Copia greeted the boy. We’re very happy to have you here.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The walk to the suite was silent, minus the sound of echoing footsteps in the grand hallway. “How are you, Augustus?” He broke the silence.

The little boy held out a thumbs up. Copia decided to continue speaking, not necessarily looking for a response, but to lighten the air.

“I know you are from Austria. I myself have never been, but I want to go. Maybe one day you can take me. But first you'll have to get your pilot's license. That was a dream I once had: to be a pilot. But, alas, I am afraid of heights. And look! We are here!” he announced, gesturing to the door of their suite.

After a small tour of the new space, Copia finally led Augustus to his bedroom. “I apologize, it’s a little boring right now, but we will fix it up in no time. However you like.” He said, opening the door for Augustus. The room was fairly empty minus the essentials: a bed, dresser, nightstand, rug. Despite the room’s humble appearance, Augustus’s eyes lit up enlivened at the idea of having his own space. “You can either stay here, or we can look around more. Up to you.”

Augustus paused to think for a moment, then pointed to the door.

“Okie dokie, we can explore. Do you want to see the library?” Copia inquired.

His eyes lit up.

“Library?”

Yes! A word! Thank you, Satan! A choir of angels sang in Copia’s head as he celebrated this small yet mighty victory.

“Yes, we have a rather nice library! Would you like to go?” He questioned.

“Yes!” Augustus chirped.

Copia and Augustus exited the bedroom, walking through the living space and to the front door.

“Are you ready to go?” Copia asked.

Augustus seemed conflicted, his gaze drifting off to somewhere else in the room. “Is… is something-“ Copia, lost on what to do, awkwardly looked aside, until a bright blue object caught his eye- something he must have set aside during their tour. “Eh… Oh. You want your headphones?” He asked.

Augustus nodded, a small smile forming on his face. Copia walked to the counter and picked up the headphones, approaching Augustus once again. Crouching down to be at eye level with the little boy, he extended the headphones toward him. “Here you go, good sir!”

Augustus smiled appreciatively and took them into his hands.

“Where we are about to go is very quiet. But, of course, you can still wear them if you’d like.” the Cardinal consoled gently.

“Okay. Just in case.” Augustus replied, placing them around his neck.

“Just in case.” Copia reiterated. “Ready?”

“Okie dokie.” Augustus said, holding out a thumbs up.

Copia and Augustus walked through the halls of the abbey as the boy eyed his surroundings curiously, counting each brick on the wall as they passed through.

"This is our library," Copia declared as they entered the large doors, a sense of pride evident in his voice. Though the library was nearly ancient, he had played a large part in its organization. Augustus’s eyes twinkled with wonder as he stared in awe at the utopia surrounding him, lined wall-to-wall with books of all kinds.

“Very cool, right?”

Augusted smiled wide and nodded, looking up to meet eyes with Copia, which made his heart warm.

“Do you have a favorite book?” Copia asked Augustus.

“The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.” he answered, nearly instantly.

Copia’s jaw dropped. One, because clearly this kid was a genius, two, because that was a book he held dear to his heart, and three, because that was the longest phrase he had uttered the whole day.

“Wow, that’s a big kid book. You must be a very smart boy. I happen to love that book, though I certainly wasn’t reading it at your age. Have you read the others?” he asked.

He tilted his head, not fully understanding Copia’s question.

“The story continues in other books.” He explained.

“Really?” He asked, his eyes widening in excitement.

“Yes, it’s a series. And whaddya know…” Copia trailed his finger across the vast collection of books as he strolled along the shelves, until-

“They’re all right here!” exclaimed Copia, who had led them both to the fiction section of the library.

Augustus’s head nearly exploded at this newly found information, a large smile spreading across his face.

“And there are movies.” Copia informed him.

The boy’s jaw dropped. “Movies?”

Oh, this was gonna be great.

In the middle of their lighthearted conversation appeared Secondo, in the mood for some refined literature. His facial expression molded into a soft smile as he observed Copia and the young boy discussing the classic novel.

Copia caught sight of his older brother in the corner of his eye. "Oh! Hello there!" He greeted his brother as he made his way towards them. "Augustus, this is your Uncle Secondo."

"Hello to you, Augustus. I'm Secondo. It is very nice to meet you.” Secondo said warmly, reaching out his much larger hand and shaking the boy's. “Nice, strong handshake. Good for you.” Secondo praised the boy with a smile. “And what is that book you are holding?”

Augustus, feeling shy, held up the book and pointed at the title engraved on the spine.

“Wow, that’s a grown up book! It looks like we have a distinguished gentleman on our hands. Have you met your other zios yet?”

“Not quite yet. But I was planning on taking him to meet his cousins after he sees the garden.” Copia answered for Augustus, still a tad nervous.

“How fun! Well, I won’t bother you two any longer. Very nice to meet you, Augustus. I look forward to seeing you again soon.” He said with a warm smile, waving and exiting the room.

“I like him.” Augustus commented.

“Secondo is great. Looks like this was a successful trip!” Copia exclaimed.

“Are we going to the garden?” Augustus asked, placing the book in his backpack.

“Only if you want to.” Copia replied.

Augustus nodded.

“Okie dokie, off we go!”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Copia and Augustus paced outside in the grass, Augustus’s smile growing wider and wider as the two approached the Clergy's lavish garden.

“Do you like the outdoors?” Copia asked Augustus.

“Yes.” Augustus answered. “This is so cool!” He exclaimed, in awe of the wonderland in front of him, longing to get lost in its winding path.

Among the vibrant colors of the flowers, an older man quietly tended to the garden, crouching in front of a bed of hydrangeas, an aura of wisdom and insight radiating from him. Hearing footsteps nearing on the gravel, he turned his head towards Copia and Augustus, giving them a soft wave.

“Why hello, there. Very nice to meet you, you must be Augustus.” He spoke softly but warmly.

The boy nodded sheepishly, staring at the flowers in Primo’s hands.

“Augustus. That’s a good name. Better than good. Do you know what it means?”

Augustus looked up to meet Primo’s gaze, and shook his head.

“Great.” Primo revealed.

“Oh. Really?” Augustus asked.

“Indeed.” He nodded. “Do you have a favorite flower?” Primo stood up, Copia and Augustus beginning to follow him along the edge of the the flowing stream.

Augustus looked around the garden for a moment, contemplating which of the many flowers he preferred. “I like the sunflowers.” answered Augustus, pointing to the yellow flowers just a few feet away.

“So do I. They are a classic choice.” Primo agreed. “Sometimes I find myself in here not just to expand the garden, but to find peace in its stillness. It is very quiet out here, but there are many noises to be noticed. The sounds of the stream, birds chirping, sometimes pesky animals that want a snack.” He conversed.

Augustus gasped, his love of animals evident in his jovial reaction. “What kind of animals?”

“Squirrels most often, but rabbits as well. You know who also likes animals?” Primo asked.

“Who?”

Primo pointed at Copia, who smiled fondly.

“I do, that is true.”

“Maybe one day you two will have a little pet.” Primo winked as Augustus looked up at Copia, his hands fidgeting with excitement.

The three continued their wholesome exchange as Primo taught Augustus all about the flowers and plants, curiosity brimming in his eyes. Copia observed Augustus’s interactions with his uncle, admiring the boy’s gentle and inquisitive nature that ignited a sense of youthfulness in his heart.

“Lovely to meet you, Augustus. You are what some would call an old soul. Maybe even wiser than me, even at my age.” Primo chuckled.

“Nice to meet you.” Augustus responded, finding comfort in Primo’s serenity and knowledge.

“Ay, the sun is already setting…” Primo remarked, the garden’s vibrant colors beginning to dull down as the sun prepared itself to rest.

“Ready to go inside and, if you’re ready, meet your cousins?” Copia asked Augustus, to which he nodded, holding out a thumbs up.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

As the Cardinal raised his hand to knock at the door of the suite you and Terzo shared, Augustus suddenly felt a surge of uncertainty, and without thinking, grabbed Copia’s hand.

Copia, shocked by the sudden contact, looked down at Augustus with concern in his eyes.

“You okay?” He checked in on the boy.

Augustus nodded. “Nervous.”

“We don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.”

“I do.” Augustus decided.

“Okay. We can take a deep breath and go inside. Okie dokie?” He comforted Augustus.

“Okie dokie.” Augustus repeated.

“In,”

The two of them inhaled in unison.

“And out.”

Phew.

“Ready?” Copia asked Augustus.

“Mhm.”

Copia stood up and knocked three times on the door of the large Papal suite, which nearly instantly swung open. In front of them stood a man with jet black hair in a black suit, face covered in white and black paint.

Augustus tapped Copia on the shoulder, waving his hand for him to lean in. He abided, leaning down to hear whatever it was he had to say. Augustus cupped his hand over his mouth and stage whispered, “Is that Dracula?”

Copia nearly cackled.

“No, that’s your Uncle Terzo.” The Cardinal chuckled.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Dracula?!” Terzo exclaimed. “You flatter me! I’m Terzo, it’s very nice to meet you.” Terzo greeted, holding out his gloved hand for the boy to shake.

“Hi. I’m Augustus.” the boy said, taking his hand and shaking it.

“Augustus! So nice to have you in our family. There are a few other people here who are excited to meet you.”

“Feeling up to it?” Copia asked.

Augustus nodded.

“Okie dokie. Your Aunt (Y/N) and cousin Vinnie are here as well. Your cousin Violetta will be back from school soon.” Copia told Augustus.

Just around the corner, you were eagerly listening; after hearing of Augustus’s agreement, you walked down the hall to your son’s room, where you found him pacing in circles.

“Is he here yet?” He asked before you even got the chance to inform him he had arrived.

“He’s here! Come say hi! But remember, he’s nervous, so be very sweet.” You reminded him.

“Okay!” Vinnie agreed as you took his hand and walked him to the living room. As you entered the room and caught sight of your nephew the for the first time, your heart nearly melted. He was utterly adorable, golden hair, rosy cheeks, and freckles dappling his face; he looked like a little cherub. You turned to look down at your son and were elated to see his face lit up.

You gently crouched to the ground to meet your nephew at eye-level, noticing his eyes darting away from your gaze.

“Hi, Augustus. I’m (Y/N). It’s so nice to meet you!” You said, softening your voice. “This is Vinnie, your cousin, who is so excited to meet you.”

“If you couldn’t tell.” Terzo joked, gesturing to his son, filled to the brim with energy.

“Hi! I’m Vinnie!” The boy excitedly introduced himself.

“Alright, Augustus. I’ll be back very soon.” Copia said to Augustus. “Have fun, and if you need anything, just let your Uncle Terzo or Aunt (Y/N) know. And if you need me, you can also let them know, okie dokie?”

Augustus nodded. “Okie dokie.”

“Do you want to play?” Vinnie asked, to which Augustus nodded once again.

“Okay, let’s go!” Vinnie announced, leaving no room for a verbal response as he grabbed Augustus’s hand, fingers intertwining, and eagerly took off to his room.

Though Copia kept a smile on his face, it was evident he was overwhelmed, understandably.

“You’re doing great.” You consoled Copia, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I greatly appreciate your help.” He expressed his gratitude.

“Of course, you don’t have to thank me.”

“He likes you, Copia,” Terzo observed.

“I hope so.”

“No, seriously, he likes you. It’s his first day here and he’s already holding your hand and clinging to your side. It’s precious.” You added in agreement.

“Sì, Copia, you have nothing to worry about,” Terzo reassured him.

“Thank you. And, uh, Terzo, can I borrow one of your ghouls? I have a little last-minute project for his room I’d love to get done.”

Meanwhile, just down the hall, Vinnie had dragged Augustus to his bedroom, animatedly explaining its contents, from his favorite toys scattered across the floor to the pictures on the wall.

“This is my room.” He announced. “And this is my bed and this is my rug. And this is my bookshelf and these are my books that my Mama and Papa read to me. Sometimes my sister. And these are my toys.”

Augustus listened patiently as Vinnie kept talking, admiring the contents of his room.

“Do you like it?” Vinnie asked once he was finished with his grand tour.

“I love it.”

“Yay, thanks! I like your headphones.” Vinnie complimented him. “Sometimes my Papa wears them when he listens to death music. Once he let me hear. Don’t tell my mom. Cause there’s bad words.”

Augustus giggled. “Can I draw?” he asked, unzipping his backpack.

“Sure,” Vinnie said as Augustus pulled out a box of crayons and a stack of paper, laying them on the ground for them to share.

“Do you like to draw?” Augustus inquired, pulling a beige crayon out of the box

“I’m no good,” Vinnie answered.

“That’s okay.” Augustus pushed the crayons towards his cousin.

Hesitating at first, Vinnie reached into the box and pulled out a green crayon, beginning to scribble on a blank sheet of paper. The boys sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company until Vinnie caught sight of Augustus’s paper and noticed his artistry.

“That’s really good!” Vinnie complimented him.

“Thank you.” Augustus looked up, making eye contact with the raven-haired boy.

“I don’t even know what I have.” Vinnie laughed, looking at the chaos on his paper.

“Grass,” Augustus said, pointing at the drawing, covered in green scribbles. “You can make a house or animals or flowers or trees on top.”

“Oh. Good idea. House.”

"And then you can add people and make it a home," Augustus suggested.

The two went back to drawing in silence until a knock was heard, a girl standing in the doorway.

“Hi, Augustus!” she said. “I’m Violetta. How are you?”

Augustus held out a thumbs up, still concentrating on his paper.

“That’s good. Are you drawing? That’s cool.”

“Duh. He’s really good.” Vinnie told his sister, pointing at his cousin’s paper.

Violetta took a seat beside Augustus on the carpet, peering over at his drawing.

“Wow, that looks really good!” Violetta remarked, impressed by Augustus’ skills; on his paper was a drawing that appeared to be a self-portrait. “There’s a lot of space left. Any other ideas on what to add next?”

Augustus nodded.

“Well, I can’t wait to see!” Violetta said enthusiastically.

The boy smiled and looked up at Violetta, appreciative of her welcoming nature. As his eyes met her gaze, he noticed her black hair similar to her brother’s, as well as a dark red marking adorning the left side of her face. Anxious regarding Augustus’s staring, Violetta suddenly became self-conscious, looking away from the boy and fidgeting with her hands. She mentally prepared herself for a blunt comment, as she had faced many times before, especially from young children.

“I like it,” Augustus said sweetly, pointing to her face.

“Oh.” Violetta said, lost as to how she should respond, not expecting such a kind comment. “Thank you. I like your freckles.”

“Thank you,” Augustus replied with a smile, then went back to perfecting his masterpiece.

Violetta’s heart felt full. The kindness Augustus displayed towards her was unexpected, and caught her off-guard.

“I have homework to do, but it was nice meeting you, Augustus. I’m so excited that you’re my cousin.” She said farewell to Augustus, waving and exiting the room.

“Bye-bye, Violetta.” He said, waving his hand at the girl.

“My sister is cool,” Vinnie said. “She can also draw good.”

“Really?” Augustus said.

“Yeah. She’s awesome. Let’s play spies!” Vinnie declared, a sudden shift in topic, one that didn’t bother Augustus. “But we need something first.”

“What?” Augustus tilted his head.

“We need IDs,” Vinnie stated.

“You’re right! Spy IDs.” Augustus agreed.

“Can you draw them, though?” Vinnie asked, unsure of his abilities.

“Yeah!”

“Alright, let’s do it!”

Augustus’s time spent with his cousin had clearly lightened his mood. By the time Copia had come to pick up Augustus, he was non-stop giggling with Vinnie, his expression soon resting in an adorable smile, dimples on display.

“Hi, Augustus. It looks like you had fun.” The Cardinal smiled, walking into Vinnie’s room.

“Yeah, I did.” Augustus cheerfully responded, looking Copia in the eyes.

“Ready to head back home and have something to eat?”

“Yeah!”

After a fulfilling meal of spaghetti and meatballs- which Copia would have to make more often, the plate was empty in what seemed like a millisecond- Augustus was exhausted, but still enthusiastic upon discovering the surprise waiting for him.

“Wow!” Augustus said, standing in his room in front of the newly added bookshelf. “How did that happen so fast?”

“Magic,” Copia responded.

“Woah.” He said in awe, mouth agape as his ocean eyes glimmered.

“And now you can put your first book on it!”

“Oh!” Augustus exclaimed, taking off his backpack, unzipping it, and taking out the book. He walked over to the bookshelf, standing on his tallest tippy-toes and placing it on the shelf.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“Goodnight, Augustus. If you need anything, I am just down the hallway, okie dokie?” He said, holding out a thumbs up.

Augustus, tucked snugly under the covers, held out a thumbs up in return. “Okie dokie.”

Copia, leaving the door just slightly ajar, made his way back to his room. Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he sighed deeply, picking apart the man staring back at him with tears in his eyes, who still didn’t seem much like a father. The day went well, he thought, but there was no doubt it was all incredibly overwhelming. Did he overwhelm Augustus? What could he do to help him come out of his shell?

“Day one of fatherhood and I’m already a wreck,”Copia mentally belittled himself. In the middle of his spiral, he heard a quiet knock on the door.

Like magic, Copia nearly teleported to the door and sucked back his tears; a superpower that supposedly came with becoming a parent. There Augustus stood in the doorway, tears running down his rosy cheeks.

“Augustus! What’s wrong?” He fretted, crouching in front of him, concern etched on his face.

“I can’t-” Augustus sniffled, Copia’s heart instantly shattering. “I can’t sleep.” the boy softly cried.

“Oh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Copia consoled him. “Can I give you a hug?”

Augusted answered by holding out his arms, to which Copia immediately wrapped his arms around him.

“It’s very hard. I know. I know.” Copia comforted him, though he wanted to cry just as much. Through the sniffles and hiccups, Copia soon heard a giggle escape Augustus’s mouth. Copia gently pulled away from the hug, as Augustus smiled and pointed to the wall behind Copia. Turning around, he noticed his iconic poster hanging proudly - ‘Hang in there baby!’

“Oh, the poster? It is funny, isn’t it?”

Augustus nodded. “I like the cat.”

“So do I. Do you want it?”

“Really?” He asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Sì. We can put it up in your room.”

“Sì is yes?”

“Oh! Sì- Yes. Sì means ‘yes’ in Italian.”

“Okay. Yay!”

“I always seem to catch sight of that silly cat when I need it most…” He remarked. “Speaking of a cat… I know a very good story involving a lion, a witch, and a specific piece of furniture if you’d like to read it together.”

Augustus grinned wide, his joy completely replacing the tears he had shed just moments ago.

Copia followed Augustus into his room, carrying the framed poster, and setting it beside a stack of paper on top of the dresser.

“He will sleep here tonight, but we will put him on the wall tomorrow.” Copia said as Augustus crawled into bed and under the covers. “All snug?”

Augustus nodded.

“Okie dokie. Here we go. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.” He began. “Once there were…” Copia began, and soon noticed Augustus holding up four fingers.

“Ah, you are correct! Four children. And their names were…”

“Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy,” he repeated.

“And you remember them in the right order, too! Wow. Very good memory you have!”

“Thank you,” Augustus replied, smiling.

“This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because of the air raids. They were sent to the house of an old Professor who lived in the heart of the country, ten miles from the nearest railway station and two miles from the nearest post office…”

Copia continued reading the story as Augustus found his eyes growing heavy under the soothing cadence of Copia’s voice.

“This is the land of Narnia, said the Faun, where we are now; all that lies between the lamp post and the-”

Copia peered above the book and caught sight of Augustus, eyes shut and mouth agape, his breathing establishing a steady rhythm . Augustus had made it to sleep before they even made it to Narnia. Copia smiled, closing the book softly, careful not to disturb the now-sleeping Augustus. The Cardinal remained seated on the side of the bed for a moment, basking in heights of graciousness he didn't even know were humanly possible; he felt blessed that this precious little boy, whos life clearly had not been easy, was safe with the Clergy, was safe with him.

Placing the book on top of the nightstand and turning off the lamp, Copia carefully stood up and began to tiptoe out of the room, stopping when he noticed a sheet of paper sitting atop the dresser. He knew drawings were an important and often personal form of self expression, especially for children, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what Augustus had come up with; he seemed like a creative spirit. Through the darkness of the room, squinting at the paper, Copia was able to make out two figures with writing on top.

Yeah, he was gonna be be a good Papa. Better than good, great. Some may even say the greatest.

OMG YALL😭😭😭😭

first things first,

i can’t apologize enough for my absence!!! this story became way longer than i thought it would but i hope it was worth it!!! now that this is done i have other WIP stories i can finally continue working on that include augustus!!!

i love dad copia so much y’all omg i can't even, vinnie and augustus are twin flames omg im so excited to show yall more <3

thank you SO MUCH for reading i can’t thank you enough, i love y’all so much!!!! thank you for your love and patience!!! more stuff coming up SOON <3

<3, alice

84 notes · View notes

copiass · 1 year

Text

What's In A Name?

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10,218

Warnings: nsfw, light dom/sub, oral sex, glove kink, dirty talk, office sex

"It was undeniably, inarguably, most definitely fucked up. You had never meant for it to get this far - really. It had just been a mistake, and not even your own at that, just a stupid slip-up that had sparked something sick and wicked right in the pit of your stomach."

AKA: Whilst harbouring a secret crush you use your boss’ last name without him knowing. (I know nothing about tax returns or identity fraud, deal with it.)

Can also be read on ao3

Other fics here

It was undeniably, inarguably, most definitely fucked up. You had never meant for it to get this far - really. It had just been a mistake, and not even your own at that, just a stupid slip up that had sparked something sick and wicked in the pit of your stomach. An urge to fulfil some long-dormant, base need that had somehow started to form in the deepest part of your gut. An urge that had, admittedly, spiralled out of control weeks ago. An urge that currently had you pacing towards Copia’s office, pretty sure you were about to get fired.

You’d been Papa’s Personal Assistant for about six months, and up to now it had been going just swimmingly. The promotion had been a surprise, the latest Sister handing in her notice red-faced and vexed after being summoned to Copia’s office for yet another lecture. She had managed to last 2 months, admittedly his longest up to that point. But his PA’s always ended up the same, pacing and ranting endlessly in Imperators' office, notice in hand, begging to be moved elsewhere to spare his ‘incessant micromanaging’. You had been fairly new to the clergy, eager to make a good impression with a secret soft-spot for the newest Papa. With, unsurprisingly, few takers for the role all it had taken was a short interview with some of the higher members of the clergy and you were in, your own desk, a stripe of Papa’s blue added to your uniform and even an extra half-day off in the week (though, admittedly, you rarely saw it).

It hadn’t taken you long to realise that Copia was not, in-fact, an insufferable asshole, a particularly cruel employer, or a dictatorial micro-manager. He just appreciated when things were done a certain way. And - oh - you’d made the effort to learn, how he liked his papers filed and tabs colour-coded, how he preferred his stationary ordered at his desk, the exact temperature he liked his afternoon tea. It became easy, placing things on his desk before even he realised he needed them, slipping his old books back to the library without him asking, making sure his reading glasses were sat right where he would reach for them while he absent-mindedly flicked through paperwork. It just worked. The more time you spent with him the more you understood what he wanted, what he needed, just intuitively. Yes, Copia ran a tight ship, with little to no room for slip ups, but you soon realised it’s because it had to be that way. His keen attention to detail sometimes seeming like the only thing keeping the whole ship afloat and fully functional.

Not that he had made it easy for you. It was like he had already resigned you to failure that first morning you showed up in his office, eyes flicking over you briefly before he looked back down his nose through his glasses, examining spreadsheets with a displeased hum. It had only pushed you, the more unmoved he appeared at your presence the harder you worked to get it right. The more paperwork he pushed through your desk without comment, the quicker you filed it. The more he complained about his tea not being right the longer you kept it brewing. The louder he scoffed under his breath at his ink running dry, the sooner you were there to refill his pen. Not with Ministry issued ink, no, but Copia’s favourite ink. The one imported from Italy in a gilded case, kept in the top right-hand drawer, behind his ‘secret’ chocolate stash. And it was worth it - so - worth it when he would give you that look. Like you had pleased him, that he understood what you had done, that he appreciated it, deeply.

And it felt perversely intimate. Knowing someone so well when you barely knew them at all. You quickly learned Copia was not a morning person and did not like to chit-chat before at least 9.30am. His favourite lunch was on Fridays when the kitchens brought up a small charcuterie board paired with an expensive red to finish off the work week. He preferred the black olives to the green ones, even though you insisted they were the same just to wind him up and watch the smirk pull at his painted lips. You learned how he bit away at those same lips when he was expecting a phone call from Saltarian, and how he rubbed at his temples when he had been working too long, the both of you sprawled across the desks working into the early hours of the morning.

Copia learned too. He learned that when you were stressed you’d chew on the end of his, frustratingly, expensive pens as you worked, brow furrowed as you read over his work. He learned that if he voiced his distaste for green olives for long enough you would eventually slink over to the other side of his desk and steal them off of his plate, neglecting to use cutlery, giving him the chance to watch your oil slicked fingers slip them gently into your mouth. He learned that you were eager, so eager, for every challenge he presented to you. Eager to prove him wrong, eager to impress him. He also learned that you liked to poke at him, test the waters, push his buttons just to tease.

“Ai! This stress will be giving me even more greys, Sister.” He’d complain, whining and smoothing at the silver hair at his temples, checking his reflection in the gilded mirror in his office.

“Oh, I do hope so, Papa.” You’d sigh back with a wink, savouring the way he would look over to you, eyes burning in the candlelight of his office, eyebrows raised in a mock warning.

And there it was. The fine line that you both danced around in the confines of his office. You initially made a point of not seeing him outside of work, intentionally ignoring the pointed silence that had started to emerge everytime Copia announced he was retiring to his rooms for the evening, avoiding his offices on your days off, only seeing him at Masses with the rest of the clergy. But soon enough it just became easier to spend your lunch breaks together, whispering clergy gossip over a now shared pot of tea. And then it was just easier to eat dinner together over paperwork, the kitchens bringing two dishes instead of the one. And then it was just easier to have a quick shared nap on the couch in his office when trying to meet a particularly challenging deadline, the weight of your head pressed nicely into the warm meat of his thighs as his gloved hand rubbed at your temple lightly.

It was inevitable really. To be so close to a Papa, to be so close to him and have him seep into every crack, every crevice of your subconscious. It was funny, to see behind the facade, to witness him as just a man at his desk every day, swearing under his breath at his “horseshit” brothers who couldn’t balance out a spreadsheet to save their lives, and yet also see that he was objectively not just a man. The confidence with which he carried himself, the way he unashamedly let his gaze linger, his reluctance to ever speak indirectly or without purpose. And if you had to finish off most evenings alone with your fingers between your thighs and his name falling from between your lips, that was your prerogative. Copia didn’t have to know. You were driven, determined even, to not let it distract you. To prove to him you could work well, help him achieve his vision without getting preoccupied with something else.

So, naturally, when the postman responsible for delivering your mail made a mistake, just a tiny, minor mistake, it should have been an easy fix, a laughable offence. When the postman dropped off the usual letters and packages with a warm smile, and a casual ‘Mrs Emeritus, I take it?’ you should have laughed politely and corrected him as you took the mail. You should have clarified your position, maybe even offered up your own name instead. You should have taken the mail to Copia and offhandedly mentioned the exchange so you could both laugh at just how ridiculous that concept was.

Yet, before you could even think, before logic even had the chance to enter the equation you found yourself nodding, smiling as you took the mail with a surprisingly confident;

‘Yeah - that’s me.’

Any sense of professionalism, common sense or even decency were outweighed by the sudden, sick satisfaction at the implication not just of being his assistant, but his wife. Copia fucked around, you knew that, gathered as much from the gossip around the ministry. Not that you’d dared to ever ask him personally, though due to embarrassment or jealousy you weren’t really sure. You knew he had a reputation, that was just part of being Papa, it came with the job. When the urge took him he had any number of Siblings to choose from to satisfy him for the night. But being his wife. That was different.

You’d shut the door, letting your back hit the dark wood as you grinned to yourself, cheeks still flushing at an implication you’d never considered before. You let the fantasy wash over you, picturing what it could be like, how he would hold you, how he would adore you, how he would fuck you. For a moment you weren’t just his assistant, who tidied his desk and sorted his mail and served his tea, but his partner. His equal. Your head had felt dizzy with it, the words of the delivery man still buzzing in your ears, pulse racing, cheeks flushed. You’d thrown the letters down on Copia’s desk a little more hurriedly than usual, rushing back to your own desk pointedly avoiding his gaze. If he noticed anything he did not comment, choosing instead to sort through the post with just a soft glance your way.

That’s when it started. This problem. This perverse little game you’d been playing only with yourself. You’d tried to forget it, laugh it off as a joke and nothing more, just a mistake that caught you off guard. But that seed had burrowed down, deep into your gut where even you couldn’t remove it. Then it spread, reaching even into your dreams, filling them with images of dishevelled greying hair and slick leather gloves. It had appealed to some base nature deep within you, eager and possessive. Yes, the first time had been a mistake - but offhandedly signing a receipt with that same name certainly had not been. Neither had the second receipt. Nor had the third. Or that new email signature to an outside agency. Or the rooms booked under your name on the last tour.

Who would know? You’d reasoned to yourself, knowing that the only person checking the paperwork was, by default, you. Copia was none the wiser, more important things to think about than receipts for minor purchases or email signatures. You’d never use that name inside the ministry, it was a dangerous game after all - playing with the Emeritus name. You’d seen what had happened to those who played games the Ministry didn’t approve of and you did not intend to join that list. It wasn’t even about the name, not really - just him. The fantasy that you were someone that was important to him, someone he was attracted to. Theoretically, it was foolproof. It was harmless, no one would ever find out anyway. It just gave you a thrill - the risk of being caught weighed up against the kick of using his name.

Theoretically.

It wasn’t until Copia pulled you aside one evening as you were aimlessly fiddling with his diary for the next day that your heart dropped into what felt like your ass.

“We may need to be breaking into Terzo’s coffee supply the next few days, eh Sister? Hehe.” He’d chuckled to himself, leaning back in his chair.

You flicked your eyes over to him, taking in the way the leather waistcoat lifted as he stretched, pulling up his black undershirt with it, revealing the dark, greying hairs on his lower stomach. Satanas - you’re sure he did it intentionally half the time, just enjoying making you look. Realising you had absolutely no idea what he just said you shook your head.

“What?”

He smiled at that, flicking his eyes away as he tried to repress it .

“Tax Returns, Sister. We have a lot of paperwork to get through together.”

“I thought we got … someone else to do that?”

You blanched, your stomach flipping as you thought about the stack of paperwork in your locked top draw, signed with a name that is most definitely not your government name.

“Ai - I am not paying someone to do what we are perfectly capable of doing ourselves.”

Papa moved to stand behind you, hands coming down to squeeze at your shoulders reassuringly. You absolutely do not think of the size, or weight, of them as they cover most of your frame.

“And we will do an excellent job as always, Sorella. Nighty night!”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

You had sighed in reply, your eyes following him as he moved down the hallway to his private quarters, knowing he’d used your favourite nickname to try and soothe you.

Shit.

That is how you’ve found yourself pacing to your shared office, praying to any deity that will hear you that Copia does not, for probably the first time in his life, need to see every single detail and scrap of paper that has ever passed through the Ministry. After spending the night tossing and turning and triple checking the receipts just to make sure they definitely didn’t look like he had signed them, you had formulated a game plan. Realistically a few minor receipts would be fine going under the radar. You had made sure to never sign for something important, something there would need to be a paper trail for. You also knew that Papa, being the way that he is, had kept all of his most important paperwork with him, collated in colour coded folders next to his desk, obviously. There is no reason that he would suspect something is amiss, there is no reason for him to suspect you have a hidden stash of, probably illegal, receipts and invoices currently stashed in your bag ready to burn. And there is absolutely no reason for Copia to already be in his office before you get there.

It seems that no deities have decided to take pity on you.

You know he’s in a shit mood the second you open the door to the office. The first indicator is that he’s already drinking coffee - which he hates doing. The second is that he’s got an already well-used ashtray on his desk and a cigarette in his mouth, meaning he’s cracked open his also ‘secret’ emergency ‘stress-relief’ smokes. Those usually only make an appearance when he’s got those big annual budget meetings with the upper clergy. Shit.

Doing your best to look objectively not guilty you sweep over to your desk, flipping your laptop open to check your emails. He’s on the phone, you notice, that stupid ancient phone holder balancing between his shoulder and his ear, cigarette balanced between his full lips. Whoever’s talking is clearly pissing him off, his brow is furrowed and he’s tapping his fingers against the desk. He also hasn’t acknowledged your presence yet which is unlike him, unnervingly unlike him. Unsure of what to do or say you just continue mindlessly tapping keys and clicking on already opened emails, doing anything to look busy and avoid drawing too much attention to yourself.

“Pah!-”

Copia spits out, slamming the phone down on the holder in response to whoever was on the other end of the line. You startle and look over to him as he finishes his cigarette with a deep drag. Now that you’re looking at him you can see the extent of his stress. Even under the paint you can see the heaviness under his eyes, the way the waxy pigment has started to crease with the tension in his brow, the way it’s started to rub away a little where he must have been rubbing at his jaw. His hair is just the right side of dishevelled where he’s been running his hands through it, the greys threatening to fall into his face as he talks. His scarf has been pulled loose, hanging somewhere near his chest rather than up near his ruffled collar. His desk is a wreck, different piles of papers stacked and stapled, different mugs strewn in between, an unlidded highlighter cast aside near the phone. He’s been at this all morning. He takes a breath, emptying his lungs of smoke and rolling his neck.

“Sit.”

You startle, jumping in your seat. He is not asking.

“Regretting not getting someone else to do it yet?”

You joke, trying to save it, though your delivery and flat half chuckle don’t quite manage to sell it. Copia doesn’t bite.

“That was my brother on the phone.”

Papa starts, you try not to think about how rough his voice is after taking a drag, much deeper than it usually is. You don’t have to guess which brother, that would explain his sour mood.

“You see, Sister, I am missing paperwork. Some receipts, some invoices - you know-” He motions with his hand as he talks, eyes scanning the papers at his desk, not looking at you just yet.

“So, I call my idiota brother, these things are usually his fault, si?”

And shit, he’s definitely stalling, he’s getting at something here and you’re hoping, praying it isn’t what you think it is. You force your bouncing knee to still itself, willing your face to be straight and empty of anything that he can pick up on.

“And yet he says, it is not him. So I do the checking, and he is right-” He scoffs, “for once.”

You nod, patiently, obediently. Waiting for him to make his point. He turns to look at you, really look at you, the white of his eye somehow more intense than it usually is, stark against the deep paint on his eyes.

“I do not miss paperwork. Sister.”

And there it is. He’s giving you an out. Copia doesn’t give second chances, and this is going to be his only offer at a first. You don’t speak, a million excuses coming to mind at once, each one as equally pathetic as the last. You know how you must look sitting there in front of him. Lying was never one of your strong suits, especially under pressure, especially when it’s to him. Yet it’s like you can’t speak, can’t even begin to think of how to get your mouth to move and formulate words.

“Do understand, Sister, that we do not take this sort of thing lightly. If you were hoping to be fiddling or moving extra money in some way-”

“Woahwoah-”

You interject without thinking, room spinning a little as your brain catches up to what he’s actually accusing you of.

“Of course, I would have hoped that you would have told me if-”

“It’s not that!”

You hiss at him, suddenly a little offended that he thinks so lowly of you and your intentions. The room is still tilting as you try to save yourself from whatever the fuck is happening. You suddenly realise you’ve just handed yourself a shovel and started digging, Copia’s eyes narrow suspiciously, and fucking hell why does he look so good when he’s mad.

“Then what is it.” He asks, patience clearly wearing thin, the coffee and nicotine only working to rile him up more.

You decide if any deities are still listening they should most certainly just open the ground, swallow you whole and just have done already. At this point you honestly don’t know if it would be less embarrassing to just admit to some sort of fraud and risk being excommunicated permanently on grounds of financial criminality. Lucifer - your habit has started sticking to you and your throat feels like it’s closing up, panic setting in. You’re just about to throw the towel in, admit to being some sort of crook when you decide to look at Copia again.

And it’s devastating. Under the paint, under the mask, under the guise of cold professionalism is worry. Genuine unease sitting in the all too familiar lines of his face. Your chest pulls as you look at him, his eyes threatening to become wet and glassy. You realise that he’s not pissed, but hurt at the idea of you admitting to this, at the notion that his assistant has been dishonest with him. It’s right about then you decide then you would rather suffer any amount of personal embarrassment over hurting him. Without speaking you reach into your bag and pull out the stack of papers you’d been hoping to get rid of. He looks away, immediately wounded at the implication.

“Just read them.” You breathe out as you throw them onto the desk, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Sister, You cannot expect me to believe-”

Copia starts, then pauses once his eyes have scanned over the first few scraps of paper. He stops. He looks up at you. His eyes flick down again, then over the next piece of paper, and then the next. For the first time in six months you think you may have just rendered him speechless. You swear he must be able to hear your heart beating in your chest as you wait for his reply, only just realising that you’ve handed him a metaphorical loaded gun. Satanas, you really must have been stupid, handing over signed proof of your … feelings for him. Copia still hasn’t reacted, not really, choosing to sit further back in the chair and flick through the papers like some sort of sick flipbook.

“Ah.”

He finally sighs out, dropping them onto the desk, one hand coming to comb through his hair.

Unable to move your mouth you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. Papa doesn’t speak either, reaching for his pack of smokes before lighting one and taking a long, drawn out drag. If you’re being honest his reaction to your confession isn’t exactly inspiring. You hurt a little at that, realising perhaps you had misread the ease between the two of you. Realising that there might have been a reason he’d never propositioned you on those long, late nights alone.

“Which one is it?”

He finally asks, his voice again deepened by the smoke, his tone one you can’t quite place, sitting somewhere between annoyance and disappointment.

“What?”

Granted it comes out a little ruder than you were aiming for, but you’ve been thrown so many curveballs in the last five minutes you’re honestly just grateful to still be sitting upright on the chair.

“Do not test my patience, Sister. You do not have to hide it now. So - which one is it?”

Fucking hell Papa could be petulant when he tried. He takes another drag, moving his eyes away from you again, like he can’t bear to look at you. You immediately decide you hate that more than anything else.

“Copia, I can assure you, I have no fucking idea what you are talking about.”

You’re not sure if it’s because you used his name or the language, or his clear lack of sleep, but either way he bristles at that, eyes fiery turning to look right into yours. Shit, he really is something to look at when he is like this, the logical part of his brain lagging behind his emotion for once. He’s surprisingly menacing, the pupil in his white eye unable to dilate with the other, unbalancing his features. This is the Copia that secured his own place in the lineage.

“Do not play stupid with me Sister, I will not tolerate it - not from you. This is the Emeritus name, is it not, Sister?”

“It is, Papa.”

“And here it sits with your own name, does it not, Sister?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Then, I can only be assuming, Sister, that you have found yourself a considerably comfortable spot in one of my brothers’ harems.”

Your brain completely taps out. You go to open your mouth, in an attempt to say anything.

“Ah-ah!”

Copia stops you, taking a moment to calm himself, finishing the cigarette and shoving it into the ashtray. You’ve not seen him like this before, so unpredictable, so wiry. You’d almost have considered it exciting had he not just accused you of fucking one of his brothers.

“That is … fine, Sister. I just feel I would like to know which brother that is all? It is selfish I know, I just … need to know.”

Taking a second to process what he just said you lean back in your chair, counting on the ornate backing to catch your fall. You close your mouth, noting you don’t actually know how long it’s been open. It baffles you, faced with the realisation that the man that you have seen write speeches; balance spreadsheets, translate texts, compose music, and recite spells and incantations with ease, is a fucking idiot. Copia notices your lack of a response and shakes his head.

“Ai - forgive an old man, Sorella. I pry too deeply. I just did not expect that you had-”

“There is no one else.” You interrupt quietly, for his sake. “Just you.”

It’s like you can see his brain working, cogs turning behind his eyes as it’s his turn to play catch up. He looks down to examine the papers again, jaw working in that way it always does when he’s thinking. He’s rubbing his fingers together, the room so quiet now you can hear the leather working against itself. Suddenly, you feel even further out of your depth, gooseflesh rising as he finally brings his gaze back up to you. It’s been a long six months, you’d dealt with worried Copia, pissed Copia, unbearably, sickeningly sweet Copia - but never this Copia. The one that’s looking at you like you’re a rabbit in his headlights. Like he can smell you already.

“Up. Come. Now”

He snaps his fingers suddenly moving his chair back a little as he taps the top of his desk. Copia does not ask twice. Surprised that your legs are even able to move, you stand slowly, hoping you’ll make it to the desk without embarrassing yourself even further. His eyes don’t leave you as you walk around to his side of the desk,so close you can practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. He opens his legs for you to stand between them, making a point of shifting his hips up as he does so. It’s at that minute you decide you absolutely cannot look at anything else but the knot in his loose tie, for the sake of your own self-preservation.

“Do you know how we got this name, Sorella?”

Hells his voice is so deep now you’re close it’s almost like a purr, the thrill of it settling right between your thighs. There’s a softness to it but it’s far from kind, far from being anything but mocking. He starts to adjust the sleeves to his black poet shirt and you mentally curse him, it’s like he knows down to the minute how many sleepless nights you’ve spent thinking about those godforsaken sleeves.

“Now, now Sister. You are usually so talkative, no?” He teases, though again it’s not entirely kind.

“It was a gift, Papa. From Him” and fuck it’s embarrassing how breathless you are already, thighs clenching just at being this near to him like this.

He moves quicker than you can react. Before you can process it, he kicks one of your legs from under you, knocking it so you stand wider, legs open in between his own.

“Errato.”

And just like that he’s standing in front of you, much taller than you remembered, much broader than he seems from where you sit at your desk across the room. You can’t help but shrink back, lean further back into the wood only to be devastated when he follows there too, eyes examining your face like it’s the first time he’s seeing you. He breathes you in and you can’t help but follow, eyes closing as you take in the smell of him, all incense and smoke and something that must just be him.

And oh, perhaps those deities had been listening after all. His hands come to cradle your head, holding it as he fiddles with something at the back of neck. With a gentle pull your veil falls away somewhere onto the cluttered desk, exposing you to him. Papa’s eyes flick up to examine you fully now you’re without your veil, like he’s got to squeeze one more look at you in before he’s moving again. His hands wander to find your own, pinning them down the desk under his as he carries on his, frankly lewd, inspection of you. You can’t help but gasp out, surprised that the gloves are warm, and that he’s strong, and that he’s actually touching you. He lowers himself until his face is right next to yours and you can’t bear to look, it's too much, being this close to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, taking the chance to breathe you in again, nuzzling as close to your neck as he can get without actually touching you.

“Gifts are given freely, Sorella. Without reason, without obligation.”

He lets his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Try again. How did we get this name?”

Fuck, it was one thing hearing whispers in the hallways about his talent, all hushed giggles and filthy conspiracy. It’s an entirely different thing to see it in practice, to be the object of his attention when it’s so all-consuming. Your thighs are already wet, you can feel it as they rub against each other. You can feel where the front of his waistcoat is pressed up against your chest as he crowds you into the desk, sure now that he can feel where your nipples are hard against him. His hands snake their way up your arms, before one comes to settle in the back of your hair. Your eyes open as he pulls on it, seeming to relish in the gasp you let out.

“Say it.”

He speaks again, nodding mockingly, eyes flicking over your face lingering on your lips as you part them to speak.

“You earned it, Papa.”

“Brava Ragazza, Sister. Well done.”

And Oh - he’s giving you that look, the one that got you into this fucking mess in the first place. Like he’s proud of you, like he sees you. He disappears from view as his lips press against your hairline.

“You’re always so smart, hm?”

And you really can’t tell if he’s being genuine or mocking you but you couldn’t care less as his warm, wet lips traced across your forehead, the fingers of his other hand coming to cup your chin and keep you still. It’s barely a kiss, just the press of his lips against your skin but it is singularly the least chaste thing you have ever experienced.

“It is a Sacred name, Sister.” His lips are trailing down the sides of your face as he speaks, lips catching against your skin as he talks.

“Given to my bloodline by Satan himself.”

Copia finds that spot that sits just behind your ear and chuckles as you shudder against him. You’d put good money on the probability of him mentally logging that away for later.

“I have worked for this name, I have bled for this name-”

He pulls away and you’re almost embarrassed that you whine and try to follow, so caught up in the heady way he’s been touching you, you think it might actually kill you if he stops.

Cruelly, he pulls away completely then, leaving you giddy and off-balance as you look up at him helplessly.

“I would kill for this name.”

Papa finishes, his gloved thumb coming to pull at the full flesh of your bottom lip. His face hardens and you understand that he isn’t lying. It’s not a warning, not really, more a confession. Not that you would have ever doubted it anyway. Abruptly, he chooses to sit down again, legs spread open on the seat as he lays his arms down on the rests. You fight back a mewl at the loss of him, thighs twisted together to try and keep some semblance of self-control. His hands come together under his nose as he thinks, calculating his next move, thoughtfully, carefully.

“This - is where you have overstepped, Sister. You are using a name you have not earned. We must all earn our place, earn our name, dolce.”

Ah. It all clicks into place then. Here he is again, giving you another out. Giving you a chance. Here it was, that instant knowing, what was wanted, what was needed - just intuitively. You started to lower yourself down, neatly folding up the habit at your thighs as you did, knowing Copia was nothing if not a sucker for reverence. The greying hair at his temples fell forward a little as he bent his head, gaze following you down to his floor. You made sure to grab at his thighs for leverage as you did so, half for your own satisfaction and half acting on intuition. It paid off you realised, as he chokes out a moan and pushes his hips upwards. You log that away for later.

“Let me earn it, Papa.”

It’s merely a whisper, bowing your head as you speak, another show of reverence for him. You let your head rest in his lap, cheek pressed against his thigh, a sick imitation of the last time your head was resting there. His hands come to stroke at your hair, just as he had done before, and you take the chance to capture his hands in your own. Eager to please him, to elucidate. You start to kiss his palms, mouthing along his fingers with delicate presses of your lips, the action itself chaste and devout.

“Let me never stop earning it”

Oh, he likes that. The rumble in his chest gives him away, the way his fingers follow your lips revealing him. You run with it, eager as always to impress him. Flicking your eyes up towards him, looking through your lashes you wrap your lips around a single finger, welcoming it along the length of your tongue to rest near the back of your mouth before sucking it gently. It’s odd, the sensation of leather in your mouth, but it’s warm, rough and him, and you can’t help but moan through it. If the stress of tax returns hadn’t already ruined him enough you’re more than making up for it now, his chest is heaving, pulling at the fabric of his waistcoat as his eyes lock onto where your mouth is around him. His hips have pushed out and thighs opened around you, letting you shift closer to him. He nods his head, showing his consent, his approval of your actions.

“Fammi vedere, Sorella.” He nods, voice even deeper than when it was laced with smoke.

Your Italian is patchy at best, Copia likes to remind you of that daily, but you find yourself positively unable to care, the gist of what he’s saying suddenly very clear. You gently place his hands back up onto the rests for him, kissing the knuckles on each hand as you do so. Savouring the feel of him you move your own hands to his thighs again, digging in to feel the strong muscle underneath. So much wasted time spent staring, as he moved around his office gesticulating or bounced his legs around on stage in those obscenely tight trousers.

You carry on massaging him, each time your hands getting closer and closer to the now, completely strained fastenings of his jeans. Completely beyond sense now you move on impulse, muscle memory, letting your legs slip open, pressing yourself against the cold tile floor as your face falls forward to lick at his seam. He’s hard, and hot, and it’s twisted that it’s taken you this long to be in this position. It’s degenerate really, finding some relief working yourself against the cool floor, the heat of him on your tongue. You can see his hands move to grip the arms out of the corner of your eye, a smirk pulling at your lips.

You find the end of the ties with your tongue and manoeuvre it between your teeth, pulling it back as you flick your eyes up to his face again. Copia chuckles at your trick, looking at you like that again as you undo the strings to work him free. You burn with the need to impress him again, and bring your hands to pull him from his jeans. The first thing you notice is that he’s not wearing underwear, the warm pink of his flesh very apparent once you’ve worked the fastening open. The second is that Copia is fucking hung, thick and throbbing in your hand as his cock springs back against the greying hairs on his stomach.

You’re pretty sure your eyes must bug out of your head at the sight of him, mouth watering in anticipation. You’d certainly heard things about Copia and his endowments, but well, Siblings were prone to exaggeration, especially when it came to the Papas. In this case they frankly hadn’t done enough. In the back of your mind you question how he’s still conscious with the lack of blood that now can’t currently be flowing to his head. You laugh lightly in spite of yourself, at your stupid internal monologue, at the situation, giddy with the size and smell of him.

“Mi fai aspettare?” Copia asks, his voice thick and rough as it comes out.

“My deepest apologies, Papa.”

You immediately lick from the base, right above where his balls are still covered, to the tip - uncut and almost purple. His reaction is instant, making a noise like the air has been punched out of him, fingers gripping the arms even tighter. It’s maddening, having him throb beneath your tongue, and you carry on, just single licks against him, marvelling at the size of him as you go. Unable to help yourself, you take the tip of him into your mouth, positioning your head to take him down.

Copia loses what little control he has, snapping his hands away from the rests and bringing them to wind in your hair, directing you down onto his cock. You moan in thanks, grateful for his guidance once again. He’s not being rough, you’re guessing he could do far worse, but he is being thorough, making sure your lips hit the bottom of him before pulling you back up. You find a rhythm in it, following his lead, not having to think about anything but keeping your lips sealed around him and your throat open. There it is again, that balance of what you both wanted, what you both needed, the unspoken instinct you seemed to share.

Your scalp burns with it but it’s just so good, the way he’s started to fuck his hips up to meet you, using your mouth like you’d wanted him to for six fucking months. He manages to slip out a few times in his thoroughness, the wet of him slicking up your face and lips, and you wonder what you must look like. Your eyes are watering, your mouth flushed and wet and open for him, hair still tangled up between his gloved fingers. Not that he’s faring much better, head thrown back as he fucks your mouth, broken Italian and Latin and nonsense spilling from his mouth, undershirt shoved up around his waist, exposing his stomach. Copia notices you looking and his gaze hardens, teeth gritted as you take him particularly roughly.

“Puttana.” He grunts, and you have no problem translating that one.

But there’s no malice in it, no spite, just that tone you recognise from when he’s impressed with you, his own warped reverence in return for yours. It only pushes you further, even more eager to please. As you take him down the next time you stay there, even as his own hand tries to pull you back up. You warm him with your mouth, keeping him as deep as you can while your lips meet the bottom of him and your nose is pressed up against the greying hairs at his base. You feel him push up against you, his legs lifting off the seat, getting as deep as he can while he cradles your head. He keeps you there for as long as you’re able, fucking your throat gently, before bringing you back up with a groan when you start to push at his thighs. He doesn’t let you sink back down, not immediately, just keeps your hair firm in his hand as he holds your head up - so he can look at you. Savour how your mouth is pink and slick and swollen with use.

You whine at him, pathetically, asking him to let you go, mouth still open for him. He guides you down again, only this time he’s shoving his fastenings out of the way, guiding you down to suck at his balls. That rips a noise out of him, loud and unashamed as he presses your face harder into him, grinding against your tongue. You are nothing if not eager to please, laving your tongue over his balls, his thighs, even venturing further down toward his ass. Copia makes a frenzied noise at that, involuntarily lifting up in the seat to grant you better access to him. And it’s obscene, the way he tries to grind against your tongue, fucking himself on your face. He grabs your head again, only this time to stop you.

“N-no-no …non posso. I won’t- I won’t last, Sister.”

He breathes out between gasps, body sagging as he relaxes into the chair. Smirking, you raise an eyebrow, noting that one for later. Copia catches you smiling, managing to look over at just the right time, like he always does. The look in his eyes makes it apparent you’re going to regret that.

“You have earned nothing yet, dolce. Up.”

He’s demanding, shucking down his trousers a little more so he can widen his legs. You stand, hands pulling at your skirts, eager to pull your habit over your head before he stops you.

“If you could keep it on, Sister, the habit, I mean. I- I quite like you in it.”

You must beam at him, you can feel it, the warmth in your face and the swell of your smile, so big it almost hurts your cheeks. It’s the fact it’s your uniform, the uniform that identifies you as his, that special blue stripe singling you out as his own. He’s watched you everyday in this habit, liked you everyday in this habit. Nodding, you start to stand, hiking it up as you go but slow enough to tease. Papa’s eyes flick down to your legs, his normal pupil blown so wide it’s almost black as his licks at his lips, splotches of pink peeking through the paint. He’s fucking his hand as he watches, balls bouncing a little, glove tightening as he nears his tip. You flush as you think about how many times he’s touched you with those gloves, you wonder briefly how often he washes them.

Suddenly, now you’re standing, underwear kicked down and flicked off your ankles, you feel a little shy. It’s odd, considering moments before you’d had his cock in the back of your throat, but somehow sitting into his lap without his request, without his permission would be just the wrong side of intimate. You’ve napped in his lap, just once, but sitting in it, taking him like this almost feels like too much. He notices, like he always does, his eyes and mind too fast for his own good. He softens a little.

“Please, Sorella.”

And it’s deep, and demanding and yet his voice breaks a little along the way, and it’s just too Copia for your own good. Now unable to stop yourself you lurch forward, bracing your legs on either side of his own, relishing in the strong muscle of his thighs underneath you, holding you up. One of his arms comes around the back of your waist, balancing you out as he lines himself up against you. It was intoxicating being so close to him, where he was warm and soft and smelled of smoke and whatever expensive shampoo he used. Your arms find the rest on the chair and the back of his neck, fingers toying with the few strands of hair that curl into his nape. It’s nice being close to him like this, seeing the fine lines in his face, the mix of greens in his eye, the slight shadow on his face where he’s neglected to shave. It’s almost too much, the smell of him, the feel of him, the idea of him and you doing this. It’s then that he breeches you, just the first part of him and your stomach drops at the realisation that everything up to this point had been nothing.

“You think you have earned this yet, Sister?”

Copia is talking, you’re sure of it, somewhere outside of the bubble of just feeling him. Somewhere where he sounds drowned out and far away. Satanas, he won’t stop pushing into you, splitting you like he was made to do it, each ridge and vein dragging you open with a slick sound, the heat oh him almost unbearable.

“Think you can take my cock?”

And fucking hell he’s a talker. As if it couldn’t get any more ruinous he was going to talk you through it as he ravaged what was left of you. All you can do is mewl back, legs open and hips pushed forward to take him.

“Others have tried, Sister.”

He slides home, his hips coming to sit neat against your ass as he bottoms out. If you thought that had been devastating enough, it was nothing compared to the drag of him as he pulled out again, lighting up your insides as he moved, nerve endings singing with it as he warms you up. He lets out his own sigh then, rumbling deep in his chest and oh - you realise you’d spend your life trying to earn him, if it meant hearing him do that everytime you sank down onto his cock. Copia seems to remember himself then, sucking air through his teeth before he starts talking again.

“Yes - they try their best. Wailing with their legs open for me.”

It’s simply deviant how that makes you throb, the image of him fucking some Sibling in his quarters after spending the day cooped up in his office with you. He starts to build a rhythm, balls starting to slap up against you as he fucks up into you, his feet planted on the floor for leverage. You brave a look at him and whine when you see how he looks, his eyes fixed on where he’s fucking you, his mouth hanging open, slack as he watches. His hair is fucked, paint starting to bleed just a little with the exertion of it, sweat threatening to leak through.

“Yes - I fucked them. I made them come-”

It’s like it’s intentional at this point, that he says that as he finds that spot inside you, the one that has your mewl turning into something far more embarrassing, something more guttural, more animalistic in nature. He chuckles, and it’s sinister as he re-adjusts himself to fuck up against that spot again. You suddenly don’t doubt him, or the matter of fact way he says it. You’re fairly confident that you’re not far off already, your cunt clenching around him as he speaks. He comes to grab at your ass, hands squeezing into the meat of it as he bounces you on his cock.

“I send them back with their legs shaking and their holes full, Sister.”

He growls right into your ear, back to his monologue, like it’s a threat, like it’s a promise. You start to clench around him, hips working without even thinking about it, letting his strong hands pull you down onto cock. Half for leverage and half for comfort, your hand at his nape starts to twist into his hair, savouring the feel of it between your fingers.

“And did they presume to have some ownership of me? Did they feel so brazen as to take my name - the name I fucking earned?”

You can barely even think straight with how he’s fucking you. But you realise, somewhere in the haze, that you’d been so caught up in the idea of being his, the daydream of being so owned by him, that you’d neglected to realise your own claim over him. Taking his name, making it and himself your own by definition.

“But you - you have the nerve, to sit every day in my fucking office, to flash me that sweet fucking smile, acting so eager, so useful, so innocent, like you aren’t making a perversion of my own name, hm?”

And he is still hitting that spot, sparks flying to every nerve ending you have every time he hits it, his hips snapping up faster as he riles himself up.

“You see fit to play and tease, like you don’t rush back to your room at night to play with this tight pussy at the idea of me using you like this.”

He knew, of course he knew he always fucking does, two steps ahead of everyone else.

“It is my turn to take now, Sister.”

Before you can help yourself you’re seizing up, muscles locking around him with nowhere to go as you bounce on him, the noise of it becoming downright indecent. The wet suck of you as you take him filling your ears. Copia senses that you’re straining, just missing that extra something you needed to tip over the edge. Your eyes actually start to tear up you’re so desperate to come around his cock, to let him take what he wants. He moves his hand to grab at your face, cheeks pushed together in his firm grip as he looks at you. It’s humiliating, his eyes flicking to your mouth once more as his face twists into a smile that’s almost threatening. He brings his other hand up to his own face, spitting and sucking on his own fingers, moaning at the feeling of it. Fuck his lips looked sinful stretched around his own fingers, swiping at the paint as the coated them.

Papa nods at you, almost mockingly, letting you know he’s going to help you, he’s going to make it all okay. His fingers leave his mouth and he swipes them directly over your swollen clit, making you cry out and work his cock deeper into you.

“And I will take it.”

And his voice is fucked, broken and gravelly like he’d been awake for 3 days straight. You couldn’t have stopped it if you had tried, the way he was fucking you right where you needed it, the rough, wet leather against your clit, the idea of him taking rather than you giving it freely. You shut your eyes as you worked through it, wave after wave as you clench around him, throat raw as you groaned into the hand that was still holding your face. Fuck, you would work to earn it, work for it every day if he could make you come like this. It’s far too slick between you now, the way you’ve leaked onto him, coating the both of you in it. Copia is glowing with satisfaction, lips pulled into a smirk as he just watches.

“Acqua santa, hm?”

He snickers, more to himself than to you. You can’t help but whimper at his pun, grinding down on him as if to coat him further, like it’s a gift for him. He grunts at the feel of it, head thrown back for a second as he revels in the feel of you, the tight, wet grip of you around him. He moves the hand that’s been holding your face to rest at your waist, his other still lazily rubbing at your cunt, helping you ride it out. He brings his now sticky fingers to his mouth, sucking them onto his tongue with a groan. You should be embarrassed, the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s taking you, but it feels right. Like you’re earning something.

Copia is clearly giving you time to rest, reclining back in the seat, letting you balance your hands on his chest as you grind out the last of your orgasm for him. Rest isn’t exactly something you had in your plans for the foreseeable future, content to pay back the favour tenfold. He’s quiet now, a little out of breath with his effort, looking up at you as he savours the way your face looks, flushed and bright. You sit yourself up, ready to start bouncing for him again and he kicks his knees up, ready to angle himself to start fucking you again.

“No no, Papa.”

You smirk, choosing instead to push him further into the chair with your hands, stilling his movements as you start to fuck him. Speaking seems to be beyond him at this point, he just nods as you ride him, letting you fuck him into the seat of his pretentious office chair. You mentally curse yourself for not choosing to go to the gym more often, the burning in your legs threatening to become a problem. Just looking at Copia underneath you immediately throws that idea under the bus, his head thrown back as you work him. His mouth open with broken gasps leaving his lips with each bounce, eyes heavy-lidded now. The chair starts to scrape across the tiles with the force of it, the low squeak mixing with your own moans.

It sends a dangerous thrill through you, knowing this was Papa, head of the fucking Ministry, signature powerhouse on the stage, knowing he could snap his fingers and have done with you whenever he felt like it. This is who they all wanted, the fans, the followers, the clergy, the Siblings. But it’s also Copia, your Copia, your boss who lets you steal his green olives and nice wine, and likes you in your uniform, and your chest just swells. Moving your hands to cover his own you move them to cup your neglected tits as you ride him, guiding him to your covered nipples. The kick his cock gives inside you is some indication that he likes that, though his frequent ‘subtle’ glances when you neglect to wear a bra to work had already proven that theory.

“I mean it, Papa.”

You move your own hands to cup his face, brushing his hair from where it’s falling into your eyes. The capacity to form words is still out of his reach he just watches, eyes flicking between your face, your nipples pinched between his fingers, and where you’re fucking him.

“Let me never stop earning it”

You repeat your promise from before, almost hiccuping at the end of it as you manage to angle his cock at that one spot again, savouring the sticky, slick drag of your skin against his.

“I would spend my life earning it, earning you.”

Copia is objectively a wreck. All he can do is sit and take you on him, tweaking and twisting your nipples, tilting his own hips to make sure you can work his cock how he’s already learned you like. It’s laughably unrealistic really, his good he feels, like something out of one of those shitty vintage VHS pornos Copia keeps in his ‘locked’ drawer. You feel him throb inside you as he lets out a strained groan and you’re convinced that the only thing you’ve ever wanted was to make him feel good, however he would let you. You didn’t know it could be like this, just an endless feedback loop of pleasure, giving and taking and fucking like you can hear what he’s thinking, and he can hear you. Somewhere in the back of your mind you can hear Copia grunting, choking out a mindless, “You’re s’fuckin’ tight, fuck” as he tilts his hips up for you.

Sitting up tp to lean back, you open your legs to him, so he can see where he’s fucking you. You know how it must look, your cunt wet and swollen, taking his cock so deep you’re sure you can feel it in your throat. He grunts in approval, bringing his gloves to smack lightly at your clit as you bounce, biting at his lips when you stutter around him, shocked at the feel of it. Keen to stay even, to impress him with your efficiency, your efficacy, you bring your fingers to your mouth, spitting onto them as you keep your eyes locked on his. Copia knows what you’re going to do before you even move to do it, already whining so loud it’s almost pathetic. You can’t help but smile sweetly as you reach your slicked up fingers behind you, massaging and squeezing his balls as he buries himself into your cunt.

“Sister, I need- Can I-”

You’re almost surprised he has the wherewithal to ask, his thrusts turned shallow and stuttered as he tries to keep himself from filling you too soon. It’s all you can do to gasp out a raspy ‘please’ before he’s grabbing your hips once more. It’s a done deal after that, a few broken, sloppy thrusts into you before he’s spilling himself inside, pulling you down onto him with a string of broken curses, using you to come. You’re not far behind, the throbbing of his cock, the feeling of him filling you up kicking off your own orgasm, softer and sweeter than the first. Copia fucks you through it, his capacity for thoroughness making sure you’ve milked him completely, making sure you’ve used him more than well enough.

It takes you a second to come back to yourself, lost somewhere in that bubble of pleasure and Copia, not knowing where slick, sweat and spend started or began. Bordering on something tantric, something spiritual, you slowly move together as you each catch your breath, his hands coming to soothe at your thighs, strong fingers working the muscles there. It’s quiet, that familiar, comfortable silence you so often shared filling the office. He pulls himself out from you with a wince, tucking himself back into his pants, and lazily tugging the ties shut.

Copia pushes your legs open, gently admiring the way he leaks out of you. He takes his hand and moves to swipe at his come as it drips, his eyes filled with something that looks suspiciously like devotion. Licking his lips, he pushes it back into you with his fingers, his pupil dilating as he watches for your reaction, ever the eager learner. You smirk before reaching down to save your underwear. You go to stand, unsure of where this really leaves you, unsure of what to say - of how to say it.

“There was never anything to earn, tesoro.”

Copia speaks before you have the chance to overthink, his clever eyes watching your mind tick over. He is giving you that look again, the one he seemingly saves up just for you.

“Whatever you want - it has been yours for a while.”

It’s simple, it’s direct, it’s all encompassing, it’s Copia. You feel like maybe you should kiss him but flush with the idea of it, cheeks heating up as he watches the thought pass through your mind. He smiles despite himself, averting his eyes for just a second. Although his paint is still mostly intact you’re sure he blushes underneath it, you can tell, intuitively.

Plenty of time for that later, you reason, remembering there was a desk full of receipts to file and sort before Saltarian decides to come chew Copia’s ear off about his tax returns.

“Though Sister-” Papa starts as he neatens himself up, slicking his hair back into place, “maybe, for now, we will hide those, hm?”

He nods towards the stack of crinkled papers. You understand what he’s doing, putting his own ass on the line to cover you. Risking his reputation for complete competence just for you.

“Yes, Papa.” You nod earnestly in thanks, wanting him to understand that you appreciate the gravity of what he’s doing for you.

“And maybe for now, though mine certainly suits you, use your own name, hm? At least let me take you to dinner first.”

#the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #popia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #copia fic #copia fanfic #copia fanfiction #smut #nfst #cardinal copia #copia #papa emeritus iv

173 notes · View notes

leezlelatch · 1 year

Text

Copia x Female Reader: Interruptions

A large text, full of ever infuriating Latin, slams onto your desktop, the lead of your pencil snapping in your notebook with the force in which you jump from the sudden intrusion on your quiet study. Staring at your desk for several seconds with wide eyes, you slowly look up into the furious and hateful expression of Sister Malleus, the novitiate Latin instructor.

Her expression is pinched, the fullness of her face twisting in as if she were sucking on a lemon head. Heavy brows slant down into eyes wet with rage as her red nose twitches several times like a rabbit. Sister Malleus often says that she is able to sniff out even the most clandestine trouble maker, and with all the benevolence of a Catholic nun, she decides it's you.

"I see you find your notebook ever more interesting than my lecture, novice?" She spits.

Leaning back in your seat, you blink a few times, glancing off to the left to see several siblings of sin staring at you in unsurprise. This was a recurring theme, your inability to spend 20 minutes in this class without getting your head bitten off. There was no rhyme or reason to Sister Malleus's ire. She merely despises you, and your continued association with the upper clergy has further cemented her foul opinion of you.

"I'm taking notes, Sister," you say, slowly, so that the Trunchbull of the Ministry could hear you through the thickness of her skull.

"Notes?" She laughs breathily, reaching out a bulbous finger to point accusatorily at the little drawing of your beloved baby Portobello in the margin. "You're a slacker."

"Because I doodled in the margin?" You ask, unable to comprehend how a Satanic Church built on freedom of expression and individualism could have allowed such a staunch character in their midst.

"Because you failed to listen when I called for a pop quiz. That's five points off."

"But you didn't-"

"10 points."

Clenching your jaw, you open to a blank page, and grab a pen, staring up at the woman you despise with every fiber of your being. She is set on watching you fail, and you are set on punching her in the face. Well, maybe only in your head.

***

Your eyes watch the cobble beneath your feet, the various cracks and crevices leading you through a charming courtyard nearly empty of siblings. You round the old fountain, its gray stone aged and patched, the water sitting in its basin looking particularly frosty in the fall air. It isn't on, and the strange creature who's mouth pours streams of water in the summertime looks eerie off the job, a gargoyle of sorts whose stone eyes appear to follow you as you walk the circle around its home on your way to the south end.

Pushing open a door, you breathe out a sigh of relief at the blast of warm from the many fireplaces lit in the clergy offices. The hallway smells old, that particular scent buildings with creaking wooden floors gets that reminds you of an attic, or the yellowing pages of an aged book. You easily take the familiar path past many doors with various names and designations on golden plaques until you reach your destination, smiling softly at the bold, etched name on the heavy oak door of your choice - Cardinal Copia.

"Entrare!" The muffled voice of your Cardinal calls when you knock.

Swinging open the door, your eyes are met with the man in question. He sits at his desk, shoulders forward, head tilted as he scribbles on a piece of paper. He's wearing the black cassock today, the color so dark he looks nearly a wraith sitting there, his Cardinal paints creating an eyeless stare as he looks down at his work.

He's entirely frightening, and devastatingly handsome.

"Copia," you say softly, drawing his attention from the work he spends far too much time on.

His head snaps up as if he hardly realizes he called you to enter, looking bewildered for a moment before smiling wide, sucking in a little gasp as he stands quickly.

"Amo-, ah, cara! Is it that time already?" He glances at the little clock on his desk, clasping his hands in front of him. "How are you doing? How was your day? Good, si?"

You sling your bag off your shoulder and place it on the floor by the door, closing it and sighing as you move to slump into the seat before Copia's desk. Copia hurriedly sits again, adjusting his cassock and folding his hands, staring at you with rapt attention. He looks as eager as Portobello when given a special snack as if merely hearing about your day is something entirely precious to him.

"Sister Malleus is going to expunge me," you sigh.

It was a private joke, only funny on your end, but you often came to your Cardinal after a rough day in Latin, using a different, dramatic verb to describe how Sister Malleus plans to end your existence - she's going to obliterate me, she's going eradicate me, she's going to murder me, bring me back, ask me to count to 50 in Latin, and then murder me again.

Copia's shoulders slump and he clicks his tongue, sitting back in his chair with a creak as he snaps his fingers in frustration, "Is she bothering you again, dolcezza?"

"I'm going to fail Latin, Copia, that's just the end of it," you mutter as you surreptitiously type "dolcezza" into a translate app, giggling softly to yourself with a blush.

Copia, hardly paying attention now, pulls a blank sheet of rather expensive looking paper toward him before gripping a rather chewed up pen, muttering furiously to himself in Italian as he taps the end on the desk surface in frustration.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"This has gone on long enough. I will not stand for it. She is singling you out, undeservedly. So com'è e non permetterò che la mia amata venga trattata in questo modo," he growls.

"So...you're writing her a letter?"

Copia makes a noise in his throat as he begins to write. He's upset, his breath nearly ragged as his leg bounces furiously beneath his desk. You look down at your lap, a little ashamed and a lot flustered. It is almost...confusing? The way Copia seems have such deep concern for you. He is so incredibly conscious of your happiness and well-being, any transgression against your person is like a personal attack against himself. You feel like you don't deserve such devotion.

Copia is...the most important person in the world to you. He deserves the world, even. He deserves to be treated like the wonderful, sweet, talented, beautiful man that he is, and yet everytime you walk into his office he acts like he's in awe that you're even there. That you came to visit him. Your heart often clenches when he gives you that surprised, joyful expression that lights up his eyes, the toothiest grin spreading across his freckled face just because you say, "I want to spend time with you."

You ignore the burn in your eyes as you watch him write, slowly standing from your chair and moving around his desk. You stand beside him, expressionless, and he glances up at you for a moment, his eyes widening before he ducks his head, his pen faltering on the page.

"I am the senior most Cardinal, cara. I have every authority to submit a complaint to Sister Imperator about Sister Malleus," he drops his pen and clenches his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. "We shall do study sessions, si? You and I? You trust your Cardinal, yes?"

He finally looks back up at you, anxiety in his expression, and you smile. Reaching out, you pluck his biretta off his head, a few graying strands of hair following the hat and sticking up. Copia looks positively mystified as you place it on your own head, leaning back to sit up and on the edge of his desk. You lean forward slightly toward him, and watch as he swallows roughly, his mismatched gaze trained on you.

"Yes, Cardinal," you nearly whisper.

Copia lets out a shaky breath, his gloved hands gripping the arms of his chair, "Oh, cara mia, what, ah, hmm..." He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling weakly. "You look much better in that than me, huh?"

"I think I'll keep it," you say cheekily, pressing your tongue to your cheek as you smile.

"You would let your povero cardinale get in trouble with Sister?"

"I wouldn't let her get you."

You're caught in his gaze then, smoldering and entirely yours as his cheeks dust pink, the fingers of his left hand rubbing circles on the faded and smooth wood of his chair. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly as his expression brightens. As if he's suddenly figured something out. You have to break this staring game, your face hot and heart pounding.

You look down at his messy scrawl on the paper, taking in the way he's carefully written your name as if he couldn't bare the thought of ruining it with his chicken scratch. It makes you smile, and then sobers you very quickly.

"Copia," you start, looking back up at him. His expression has changed now, head tilted as he watches you with gentle eyes. "I don't think I say this enough, but...you are so wonderful, and I-" You falter and sigh, looking back down at your lap. "Thank you for defending me."

A shaking hand reaches out as Copia scoots forward in his chair before stilling and squeezing into a fist. When he moves again, his hand is steady as he takes yours. His thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand while his other hand comes up to playfully nudge at your chin.

"Look at me, ragazza sciocca," he waits patiently until your eyes meet his. "I am an old man - hush, now," he scolds as you go to protest. "I have been alone for a long time. On tour, I am surrounded by many peoples; here, not so much. It weighs on the heart, you know?"

"You prefer...to be on tour?" You ask, timidly.

"No, no, no! Ah shit - let me - tour is great, but..." He waves the hand not holding yours in the air, trying to punctuate his words. "What I am trying and failing to say, cara, is that...no matter if there are a thousand people, eh? Or just a few, I have felt alone. But then I did something right, hmm? I wrote a pretty banger album that got your attention, and here you are. And I am no longer alone..."

Copia takes a breath, staring imploringly at you as his fingers nervously play with yours.

"You understand what I'm saying? You have given me everything. Everything," his final word ends on a whisper.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you're sure your cheeks are bright red as your Cardinal pours his heart out to you. Your eyelashes flutter in your attempt to stop the onslaught of tears that you feel threatening to fall, watching as Copia's eyes mist as well. He lets out a little noise, no more than a whimper as you both grapple with the very quick change your relationship is undergoing.

"What if," you breathe. "What if I want to give you more?"

Copia's breath catches, his eyes closing for a moment before he stands, the fabric of his cassock rustling around him. He appears confident, a small smile gracing his face as he reaches up to flick his biretta back into place on your head which had slipped down, but the tremble of his bottom lip gives him away. He's hidden his hands behind his back, but you know they're shaking.

"And what would that be, cara mia?" He murmurs.

You place a hand on his chest, feeling the fast flutter of his heart through the warm fabric. You can't help but smile as your eyes memorize every inch of his face, and Copia lets out the smallest "bellissima," his fingertip hesitantly, gently ghosting over your lips.

You're falling over the precipice.

You're not sure who starts to lean in first, but suddenly your faces are very close, and Copia is frozen.

"Is this a dream?" He whispers. "Oh, amore, be gentle with my heart."

"I think I'll keep it," you whisper back.

Copia grins, eyes shining, closing the space betwe-

"CARDINALE!" A voice bellows, Copia's office door swinging open with a bang that makes you both jump.

Papa Emeritus III strides into the room, his hand up in a grand gesture, words on his lips that suddenly falter as he sees you perched prettily on Copia's desk with the "Cardinale" in question standing scandalously close.

"Oh. Hey," he says in a surprised tone, his expression puzzled before falling into an exuberant grin. "What is going on here, huh?"

Copia practically falls over his desk chair moving away from you, and you jump off his desk, smoothing down your clothes and standing at attention as if Papa were a drill instructor. You notice Copia stands beside you in much the same manner, and you look at each other, then back to Papa, who tilts his head amused.

"A little roleplay? I did not think you had it in you, Copia," Terzo huffs out a laugh.

Copia's face twists in confusion before a light bulb goes off in his head.

"Non dire un'altra fottuta parola," he says through clenched teeth at Terzo before gently extricating his biretta from you and placing it back on his head.

"Oh shit. You know, sorella, it takes a lot to get Il Cardinale mad, you see? I do it often. But luckily I am his favorite Papa." Terzo claps his hands together. You've noticed the men of the upper clergy were friendly, but there's clearly more history here than you thought.

"Primo is my favorite Papa," Copia says dryly.

"Don't lie in front of my new favorite, Copia," Terzo fires back.

"Il tuo nuovo preferito? Stronzo -"

"Anyway," Papa cuts Copia off. "I am afraid I have to steal your Cardinal, bella. Tour stuff, eh? It never ends!"

"You're going on tour?" You suddenly ask Copia, swiveling your head maybe a little too quickly to look at him.

Copia shoots a glare at Papa before turning to you and taking your hands.

"After the new year, cara. I was going to discuss it with you, I promise. I will see you later, si?" he says. There's a desperation in his eyes, a plea to say yes, to take the time figure out this change between you.

"Okay," you say softly, smiling at him in reassurance.

"And you will remember to eat something tonight?"

"Of course I will," you laugh.

"Good, good, cool. Ah -" He looks at Papa, and then back at you, before slowly dropping your hands and wringing them nervously in front of himself.

With one last smile, you swing around the desk, and past Papa who looks so incredibly amused, to grab your bag.

"Goodbye, bella! I too will see you later," Terzo winks.

"No you will not," Copia snaps.

You leave the office, your heart fuller than when you came in, giggling to yourself as Italian arguing continues behind you until the door shuts, and you make your way back down the hall.

You like Papa, but he'll be on your shit list until you finally get that kiss.

389 notes · View notes

causticjuice · 9 months

Text

A Refreshing Distraction — Part 1

Copia x masc!reader

(Part 2 here)

Summary: You convince Papa to go see a movie with you as a break from his paperwork. He still needs some help clearing his mind, and you do so with pleasure.

Notes: Reader is referred to by masculine terms (only in Italian in this part) and wears a cassock (even though they’re a Sibling because fuck the rules in this here satanic church). Their genitals are not mentioned. Also, I know that Copia wears those black nitrile gloves in the chapters but I cannot have that, he’s wearing leather ones.

Tags: SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral sex, car blowjob (while driving), getting caught (sorta, not really)

Word count: 1.6k

ao3

You walk through the corridors leisurely, admiring the intricately carved wooden panels on the walls while making your way to Copia’s office. You know he has been having a hard time with tax season lately and you haven’t seen him in days. It seems strange to you anyway that a Papa would be the one filing his own taxes, but you accepted it. He’s been holed up with those papers long enough, and probably unable to make any progress at this point, so you decided to take his mind off of it for a bit. You heard of a new movie that just started playing in theaters and thought that would be a good enough distraction. It’s your day off and you know Copia will appreciate going at a time when the place isn’t packed. Once you arrive at his door, you give it three rapid knocks and once you hear his voice telling you to come in, you open the door.

“Oh, hello, Fratello! I wasn’t expecting you today,” Copia says, grinning.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you in a while. And I have no duties scheduled today so I thought we could go see a movie together,” you suggest, with a subtle hint of uncertainty in your voice, already anticipating his response.

“Unfortunately, I, uh…,” he gestures to his desk, “need to deal with this now. But I will gladly go another time.”

You pause for a few seconds. You know this work is important but he still needs some time off. You can see his eyes look puffy, even with the paint around them. “I think you’ve earned a trip out to the town for a bit.”

“I do need to finish this, caro,” he insists, while giving you an apologetic look.

You decide to try to convince him to go one more time. “Think about it. I bet you've been sitting there, trying to figure out some little detail and not able to do it, right? Your brain needs a break, Copia.”

He sighs, staring for a moment at the stack of papers in front of him. “Okay, I will go.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you a good time,” you smirk.

“Alrighty, give me a moment, hm?” He scurries out of the room after you give him a small nod.

You sit down at the desk and scan over the chaos in front of you. There are at least five different piles of papers, different bowls, plates and cutlery all stacked together and many empty juice boxes, on the desk itself and in the small trash can next to it. You hear an exasperated “damn it” and break out of your trance.

The door that Copia left through opens once again and you see him appear.

“I’m so sorry but it seems that I, eh, have no other clean clothes… I have just been so busy–“

“Oh, don’t worry, you look fine. We’re not going to the Met Gala! C’mon, we’ll be late.”

“A-are you sure? Won’t I stand out?” He asks.

“I will stand out more in my cassock than you will in a tracksuit and T-shirt.”

“Hm… Okie dokie, let’s go.” He gestures to the door, letting you leave first.

On the drive to the theater, you notice that he’s gripping the steering wheel tightly enough that the leather of his gloves is almost constantly squeaking against it, and his jaw is clenched.

“Are you okay, Papa?” you question.

“Ah, sì, sì, just worried about work,” he answers.

“Hmm. Maybe I can help you take your mind off of it?” You place your hand gently on his thigh, slowly moving it higher.

“I’m not sure what you– Oh,” he cuts off as your fingers almost reach his crotch.

“Is that alright? May I continue?”

“Y-yes, please.”

You move your hand up until it is resting over his bulge and lightly stroke. Once you notice he is getting hard, you squeeze a little as you continue your movement. A tiny gasp escapes Copia’s lips and his eyes close briefly.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Papa,” you tease. He clears his throat and straightens up a bit, composing himself.

Satisfied that he will pay attention now, you hook your thumb on the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear and pull them down, letting his cock spring out against his belly. You grasp him and run your thumb over his head, gathering his precum. You can’t stop the urge to taste his arousal and bring the drop to your mouth. Copia glances over at you for a moment as you hum at the taste. Wanting to taste more of him, you dip your head down and run the tip of your tongue directly over his slit, which earns you a shudder.

You start to lick in circles around his head while occasionally pumping your hand over his length. You can feel his toned thighs tense slightly under your other hand and hear his breathing becoming just a little more shallow and rapid. You still the hand working him and lower your head, taking him deeper into your mouth, while reaching your tongue down towards his balls. After a moment of pause, you move up, pressing your tongue against him until you reach the top once again. A low moan comes from Copia, clearly becoming more aroused while also being mildly frustrated at your slow pace. He seems to be letting go of his shy demeanor and letting lust take over.

Just as you start to pick up your pace, you can feel the car slow to a stop and a hand pressed on the back of your head.

“We’re at a stoplight now, topolino, don’t move,” Copia whispers.

The top of his LeSabre is down, so you know it would be plainly obvious to anyone around if you continued. You decide to tease him just a little bit by massaging his balls delicately, not being able to do much more with his cock down your throat and his hand restricting you. The sound that escapes him, a mix of a moan and yelp, is absolutely obscene and not at all what you expected from your gentle action. That’s when you feel his hand grip your hair and yank you off of him. He keeps you just below eye level, glaring at you, completely red in the face. You glance over to his left and see two people in another convertible staring at you with wide eyes. You grin and wave at them with the hand that just elicited that over-the-top response, your face portraying a bizarre mix of mischief and embarrassment.

The car you’re looking at starts driving and you hear a honk from behind. Copia quickly lets go of your hair, grabs the stick shift and starts driving.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He yells.

“What? We’ll probably never see those people again.”

“And what if they know who I am?”

“Then I’m sure this is not much worse than what they’ve seen from you before.” He huffs in response. “What was that reaction anyway? I barely touched you.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!”

You glance down at his crotch and see that he’s still hard.

“You wanna keep going?” You ask.

“You better finish what you started,” he replies, still clearly annoyed at you.

This time, he is much more rough once you start again. You begin with an already relatively quick pace, bobbing your head up and down while keeping a bit of suction. Whenever he doesn’t need to use it for driving the car, he places his hand on your head and shoves you down, all the while grunting and growling. You can tell from a glance at your surroundings that you’re at the part of the road where it is straight and uninterrupted for a while, and you speed up even more. Copia’s hips start to move in rhythm with you and his fingers are now threaded through your hair.

“Cazzo, Fratello–” he growls low in his belly and his hips begin to stagger at the top of his movement. You keep moving your head up and down, committing to memory the blissful feeling of having him fill your mouth up and making him unravel under you.

He tenses up and thrusts one last time as you keep your nose pressed against him and feel his cum spill directly down your throat and into your stomach. You pull off of him just in time to pump one more rope out and catch it on your tongue this time to taste him.

“Hmm, you taste so delicious, Papa,” you moan as you lift yourself up.

Copia only pants and huffs, unable to respond, all of his attention split between coming down from his pleasure and driving the car.

After a moment, you tuck him back into his clothes to the best of your ability, only seconds before he pulls into the parking lot at your destination.

You notice he is still in a dazed state, pausing for a beat too long after stopping the car.

“Everything good?” you ask, and just as you get the words out, he turns sharply towards you and pulls you into an intense kiss, grabbing the back of your neck. After you quickly adjust to the surprise, you deepen the kiss and swirl your tongue against his. As you do, he moans and pulls away.

“Sì, I suppose that does taste nice,” he smiles with a glint in his eye, “that was incredible, tesoro, thank you.”

“My pleasure. Besides, you can return the favor during the movie.”

#my fic #smut #mdni #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv #copia #copia x reader #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band smut #copia fanfiction #copia fanfic #my first fic #I have no clue what I'm doing

60 notes · View notes

ghuleh-witch · 5 months

Text

And We Are Tied As One Eternally

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: (For Future Chapters) NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, mentions of past abuse and domestic violence, references to suicide Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x OFC Characters: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia, OFC Additional Tags: soft!dom Copia, eventual smut, developing relationship, no beta reader Chapter Word Count: 3720 Summary: Ellie Moran just wanted to make a new life for herself. Running to escape the people in her past, she ends up in a small town in the middle of nowhere that happens to be home to a Satanic church. She never expected her life to change again after she started attending the public masses at said church.

Ao3

Chapters: 1/?

Chapter One

“How do you even dress for mass at a Satanic church?” Ellie Moran said to herself as she stared into her closet. She wasn’t even sure why she was going to begin with. Ever since she saw a grown man in the coffee shop throw a fit over a flyer for the Ministry of Ghost, a Satantic church located on the outskirts of town, she’d been curious. The flyer was advertising public mass times for the next month. After watching the middle-aged man crinkle the flyer up and toss it in the trash, Ellie retrieved it and took it home. It was now lying on her vanity as smoothed out as she could make it.

If the church was causing such an uproar among the locals, Ellie knew she had to see what it was all about.

It had been two months since she moved to this new town—two months since she flipped her life upside down to be herself, live how she wanted to live, and finally escape. It had been two very long and lonely months though. Besides her job at the small bookstore on the corner of her street, she didn’t leave her apartment. There wasn’t much to do in the town, and the organizations she checked out, such as the women’s club, were filled with overly chipper, old women who would sneer at the tattoos that covered her arm. Ellie never intended to move to such a small town. She only moved there because it was the last place anyone would think to look for her.

She felt pathetic. At 30 years old she was starting over completely. She had no friends, no significant other, no degree or skills, and was working at a bookstore barely making enough to get by.

Ellie pulled a black skater dress out of her closet and looked it over, deciding if it was appropriate to wear to a church service. “It’s a satanic church, I don’t think they’re going to care what I wear,” she said to herself and shrugged, grabbing a dark green cardigan to wear over it. “Good enough” She slipped her feet into a pair of combat boots and looked in the mirror to finish her makeup and hair. She squeezed some mousse into the palm of her hand and scrunched it into her shoulder-length, dark blonde hair to help bring out her natural waves. She fixed her eyeliner and put on her favorite necklace; a pointed, wire-wrapped black tourmaline crystal before grabbing her bag and her car keys.

Her ancient Ford Focus sat mostly unused behind her apartment building, and thankfully, after surviving the drive across the country, it got her up to the church in one piece. She parked in the visitors’ lot and walked up the stoned pathway to the entrance. The church was huge and made of stone. Ellie knew at one point it must have been a Christian church. She could see faint outlines of crosses that used to be displayed on the building that were replaced with inverted crucifixes and pentagrams.

At the entrance there was a person, Ellie thought they might be a man but she couldn’t be sure, dressed all in black with something that looked like a modified gas mask with little horns on their head.

“Visitor?” They asked when Ellie approached.

“Er-Yea-I saw the flyer—”

“Straight down the hall, the large black doors on the left. Can’t miss it,” they said in a bored voice.

“Thanks,” Ellie said, entering into the building. She was in awe at all the marble and stained glass. There was so much natural light in the atrium and it created a warm and welcoming environment. It was beautiful and not what she was expecting. She had a vision of walking into some stifling hot building with black drapes all around and only candlelight to see by.

She found the door the person at the front told her to look for and went through. Inside was the sanctuary. It wasn’t as big as the ones she’d seen in Catholic churches, but it was just as beautiful. Stained glass windows lined the room and dark-stained pews sat among stone columns facing the pulpit. The room was mostly filled with men in black monk robes and women in black habits. There were less than a dozen people in street clothes like she was.

Ellie took a seat at the end of a pew in the back of the sanctuary. She wrung her fingers nervously as she looked around at everyone talking to one another. Once the sound of an organ filled the room, everyone began to quiet down. A procession of people entered the room from a side door near the front of the space. They were dressed in red and black robes and looked like the pictures of cardinals she’d seen at the Vatican. They took seats in the front two pews.

After the cardinals, three older men in nice suits and black and white skull paint enter followed by a woman in a dark gray skirt and blazer. Behind her, an elderly man with skull paint, a walker, and an oxygen tank was escorted into the room by a woman in a habit. The five of them took seats in the chairs that lined one of the side walls and the woman took a place in a nearby pew.

The organ music died down and another man with black and white skull paint on his face entered. He was dressed in immaculate black robes with a golden “IV” encircled in a starburst pattern on his chest. He wore a black stole with gold skulls running down its length and the mitre on his head was shaped in what looked like bat wings. His eyes, one of them a brilliant white, scanned the sanctuary, giving little nods to people he seemed to know sitting in the pews, and then his eyes settled on her.

She couldn’t take her eyes off his. It felt like he was staring right into the dark, deep depths of her soul. It was like a wave of electricity washed over her, making her sit up straight under his gaze. She could have sworn the faintest smirk formed on his lips before he turned his attention from her and back to the crowd as a whole.

Ellie didn’t know what was said during the sermon. She couldn’t help but stare at the man she now knew as Papa Emeritus IV after he introduced himself to the new people in the sanctuary. She stood whenever everyone else stood, kneeled when they all kneeled and attempted to sing the hymns that were sung. Then it was time for communion. Ellie stayed seated while everyone got in line. She watched as one by one people walked up to Papa, knelt in front of him as he said a few words and placed a communion wafer in their mouth, and then took a sip of wine from a goblet being held by one of the men in the nice suits before Papa made the sign of the inverted cross and they returned to their seat.

She noticed more than once his eyes flicked to her, and Ellie couldn’t help but squirm in her seat as though she had just gotten in trouble. Was she supposed to be standing in line with everyone else? She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to take communion. She wasn’t a member of the church and she wasn’t sure if she needed to do anything beforehand to be able to take communion. In the Baptist church she grew up in, one couldn’t take communion until they accepted Jesus as their savior and became a church member. Did she need to believe in Satan and be a member of the church to take communion here?

Once communion finished and the closing words said, the woman in the gray suit stood and invited everyone to join them for a potluck lunch in the refectory. Ellie wasn’t planning on staying, but when her stomach growled, she followed a group of women across the hall to the refectory. She wasn’t going to turn down free food when all she had in her apartment was a box of cereal and a few packs of ramen. While everyone mingled with their plates of food, Ellie stood along the wall finishing up a small turkey and cheese slider. She tossed her paper plate in the trash and watched as everyone talked and laughed, feeling incredibly left out.

Just go up to someone and introduce yourself , she told herself. You’ll never make friends if you’re standing here like an idiot.

“You didn’t take communion.”

Ellie jumped a little, startled by the accented voice coming from beside her. She turned and saw the Papa Emeritus IV himself standing there. He was still dressed in the same black robes he wore during the service. He was mirte-less now and she could see his mousy brown hair, peppered with the lightest touches of gray. She thought he looked handsome and wondered what he looked like without the paint on his face.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to,” Ellie said, feeling his eyes stare into her gray ones once more. “I-uh-I’ve never been here before.”

“ Sí , I know,” he replied, holding out a hand to her. “Papa Emeritus the fourth, head of the clergy. And for future reference, anyone can take communion here. Eh, it’s more of a mockery of the Christian communion than anything of significance. What is your name, cara ?”

“Ellie Moran,” she said, shaking his gloved hand, the leather warm and soft against her palm. She thought she saw something in his eyes light up when she said her name.

“And what brings you to our ministry, Ellie?”

“Curiosity,” she answered honestly. “I saw someone throwing a fit over your flyer posted in the coffee shop, and well, I got curious. I’m new to the area and haven’t…found a place I fit in yet.” She thought she sounded so pathetic as she talked and wished she never said anything.

“How long have you lived here?” Papa asked with interest.

“Only two months,” she said.

“And how do you like it?”

Ellie shrugged. “It’s fine,” she answered. “The town is boring but it’s better than where I was.”

Papa was about to say something when the woman in the gray skirt and blazer approached him. “Cardi, we need to talk,” she said, seeming to not notice Ellie.

“Okie dokie, sister,” Papa responded before looking back to Ellie. “I’m sorry to leave you. Perhaps you will come to our next mass?”

Ellie nodded and watched him walk away with the woman and felt very alone again. Frowning, she slipped out of the dining hall and made her way back to the front entrance and her car, cursing herself that she didn’t talk to anyone else.

As she drove back into town and to her apartment and promised herself she’d go to mass again and next time, she’d talk to someone. XXX

Copia returned to the refectory a few minutes after Sister Imperator pulled him aside to talk to him about his sermon. His eyes scanned the room looking for Ellie. He frowned when he didn’t see her and turned to the ghoul standing near the door. “Did the woman in the green sweater leave?” He asked Aether.

“She did,” Aether answered. “A few minutes ago. She looked…sad.”

“Hmmm, thank you, Aether,” Copia said turning back to the rest of the people in the refectory. He had noticed her in the sanctuary sitting by herself in the back. His first thought was that she was striking. There was something about her that captured his attention and wanted to get to know her more. It was almost as if he was being drawn to her by an unseen force. He was a bit disappointed to find that she left already, not that he was expecting her to be waiting for him to come back. He hoped that she would come to the next mass. Next time he’d get to know her better. XXX

A few days later, Ellie was staring at the Satanic Bible on the bookshelf at her work. She didn’t often get to stock books in the spirituality section, but today she got to and the book caught her eye. She thought back on the mass she had attended just three days prior. She couldn’t remember what Papa was speaking about, but she could remember how he looked at her and how kind he seemed to be when she spoke to him briefly afterward.

But those eyes, she couldn’t get those eyes out of her head.

She stocked the books on Celtic Paganism in her arms and turned back to the Satanic Bible. She picked it up and flipped through it; it couldn’t hurt to learn something before she went to mass again that weekend.

“If it were my choice, I’d burn this whole section.”

Ellie turned to see her supervisor standing there with a stack of Bibles on the cart he was pushing. Charles was a larger man with a ruddy face and balding head. Ellie didn’t care for him. He constantly talked about his hunting trips and how his wife was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He could be an asshole at times and often stuck her with the shittiest tasks in the store, and because she was a people pleaser, just never complained and just did as she was told.

“Oh?” Ellie said.

“Freedom of religion is a joke in this country. This isn’t religion. This is evil, satanic bullshit,” he said glaring at the books. “But I don’t own the store so I don’t get a say in what’s stocked here. Maybe one day.” He pushed the cart passed her into the next aisle to stock the Bibles leaving Ellie standing there with a frown on her face.

Later that evening, she sat on her ugly burnt orange couch with her laptop open on her lap. She spent the last hour scouring the internet for information on the Ministry of Ghost. There wasn’t a whole lot. Their website looked like something that came out of the early internet in 1999, but there was a link to a YouTube channel entitled Ghost.

There were music videos and videos from concerts on the page of a band performing metal and rock songs. Ellie fell down a rabbit hole from there and learned that Ghost was a side project of the Ministry to help spread their message. Over the years they’ve been active, they were led by a few different men, the previous Papas, and their band of ghouls. The music was good, and Ellie ended up adding a few songs to her Spotify playlist. She then saw the videos of Papa Emeritus IV when he was still just a cardinal.

“Holy shit,” Ellie muttered as she watched him perform on stage while wearing a red cassock. The man could sing, she gave him that much, but the way he moved enthralled her. She even saw a video of his ascension from cardinal to Papa. At one point she thought she was drooling on her keyboard. There was no way that the man in the video and the one she met over the weekend were the same person. She had to snap her laptop shut because she didn’t think it was right to be lusting after what was the equivalent of the pope, even if he was satanic.

XXX

The next public mass was two weeks later, and Ellie was the first of the visitors to get there. She was dressed in a similar outfit as before; same black dress and boots, but she switched out her green cardigan for a blue one. She nodded to the man in the modified gas mask at the door and made her way to the sanctuary. As she stood in the doorway, she scanned the room, determined to sit by someone she could talk to. When she saw a woman in a habit sitting alone near the front, Ellie made her way to her. She stood at the end of the pew and cleared her throat a little.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Ellie asked when the woman looked over to her.

The woman smiled and patted the seat next to her. “Please,” she said. She had dark brown bangs poking out from her veil and bright hazel eyes. “I’m Sister Gemma, but please, just call me Gemma. No need for formalities.”

“Ellie,” Ellie said sliding into the pew.

“First time here?”

“Second. I came to the last public mass a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oooo,” Gemma cooed. “You’re the first second-timer we’ve had in a while. Most visitors don’t come back after their times time. You thinking about joining?”

“I don’t know,” Ellie answered truthfully. She hadn’t really thought about it. She agreed with the tenets of santanism, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to join the church just yet. “I don’t have to become a nun, do I? Are you a nun? I’m sorry I don’t know all the terminology.” She became flustered and hoped she wasn’t making too much of a fool of herself.

Gemma smiled kindly. “You’re fine. And yea, I’m kinda like a nun. The brothers and sisters here are called the Siblings of Din. And no, you don’t have to become a Sibling to join the church. There are a couple of non-sibling members here. Papa Terzo even had a townie for an assistant for a while.”

“Papa Terzo?” Ellie asked. She knew there were other Papas but she never heard the name before.

“Papa Emeritus the third. He was Papa Copia’s predecessor. It’s easier to say Papa and then their name instead of their whole title. It becomes a mouthful.”

Copia , Ellie thought, liking the sound of his name. She cleared her throat before speaking. “What would I have to do to join?”

“You’d need a sponsor. Everyone who is considering joining the ministry needs to be sponsored by an established member. We act as guides and teachers to help prepare you for membership here. If you consider joining, I’d love to be your sponsor. I have a good feeling about you.”

“I’ll thank about it,” Ellie said earnestly.

Gemma grinned. “I’ll give you my number after mass and you can let me know.”

Just as Ellie was about to say something else, the organ music started once more. Ellie watched the same procession of people enter the sanctuary, and when Copia stepped into the space, she saw his eyes search the sanctuary. His eyes found hers after a moment and his lips curved upward slightly, giving her a small nod of acknowledgment.

Ellie found herself smiling in return. She felt Gemma nudge her and saw the other woman had a look of delight on her face.

The service was very similar to the first one Ellie attended. The only difference this time was Gemma was whispering to her, explaining some of the things Copia was talking. Ellie tried to pay more attention this time, but she still found herself focused on Copia. He made her curious and she wanted to get to know who he was. She thought it was strange that she had these feelings. She never felt like this toward anyone before.

When it was once again time for communion, Gemma grabbed Ellie’s hand and pulled her into the line. Ellie remembered what Copia told her last time—that anyone could take communion, and it made her feel less nervous

“You don’t need to commit to anything.,” Gemma told Ellie. “Papa will say a little prayer in Latin as he puts the wafer in your mouth and you’ll say nema before you eat it and he does the sign of the inverted cross. Then Papa Terzo will offer you the chalice of wine to drink from. Same thing, he’ll say a quick prayer in Latin, you drink and say nema, and he makes the sign of the inverted cross. Then you stand and go back to your seat. Easy as pie.”

She stood behind Gemma and slowly moved as the line pushed forward. When Ellie realized she was next, she suddenly felt nervous. When she stepped up in front of Copia, he smiled.

“Glad to see you back, cara ,” he said.

She lowered herself to her kneels in front of him and tilted her head upward to look at him. She thought he suddenly looked as nervous as she felt, but then he was holding a communion wafer in his fingers and looking just as calm as before. He lowered his arm to serve her the wafer as he began saying something in Latin.

Ellie opened her mouth and he gently placed it on her tongue. Ellie had the desire to close her lips around the leather of his gloved fingers but kept herself from doing so. She swallowed the wafer. “Nema,” she said. She watched him make an inverted cross with his hands before taking a step to the side to allow one of the men in skull paint and a suit to step up to her.

“You’re a pretty thing,” Terzo said as he looked down at her with a smirk. He offered her the chalice and titled it for her to drink from. “That’s it, tesoro,” he cooed before saying his prayer in Latin.

“Nema,” Ellie replied after swallowing the sip of wine.

After he made the sign of the inverted cross Ellie stood and went back to her seat. “I think he was flirting with me,” she whispered to Gemma.

“Who?” Gemma asked with interest.

“Papa Terzo,” Ellie answered.

“Oh. He flirts with everyone. And I mean everyone,” Gemma said. “Why did it make you uncomfortable? If you tell him he won’t do it again.”

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t mind. I just wasn’t expecting it,” Ellie shrugged.

“I’m sorry I should have warned you,” Gemma responded. “You staying for the luncheon?”

Ellie thought it over for a second. She was enjoying Gemma’s company, and if Ellie stayed she could continue getting to know Gemma and maybe meet some other people.

And also maybe she’d get to talk to Copia again.

Translations:

Sí-yes Cara-dear/darling tesoro-treasure

#Ghost #the band Ghost #copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x oc #copia x oc #copia x ofc #papa emeritus x ofc #ghost fanfic #my fanfic #papa emeritus fanfic #copia fanfic #papa emeritus iv fanfic #awataoe

15 notes · View notes

feelgoodghoul · 1 year

Text

- Surface Pressure -

@cowgremlin Word count: 897 Character Count: 4917 ---------------------------------------------------- It's too much. Everything is too much.

This had been building up for a few days now. He could just feel it, crawling under his skin and clawing at his throat like an animal, begging to be freed. It seemed that every tiny, minuscule thing that happened over the course of the week just added to the pile of other inconveniences that made Copia tick.

At this point, he was like a bomb, just itching to explode. His whole being was off-kilter, he seemed wrong. Of course, the Ghouls took notice of his change in attitude. The usually calmer and goofier man seemed snippy and much more irritable as of late. The girls took more concern to this, though all of them were worried for Copia.

With the added pressure to perform well as Papa, along with making sure absolutely everything ran like a well-oiled machine, Copia was cracking, slowly but surely. All it took was one little question from one of the Ghouls.

"Are you okay, Papa?"

The question was so innocent, popped up out of pure worry and curiosity. Copia felt something inside of him snap, and then the waterworks started. It was like a dam inside of his body finally crumbled and he just released everything that he had been holding back for lord knows how long. He wasn't fine, he knew he wasn't, and he hadn't been for a long time. Copia couldn't remember the last time he didn't feel some nagging worry at the back of his mind, forcing him to act like the most perfect person.

"No- no! How could I be fine?" He choked out through body-wrecking sobs. "How could anyone be fine when all that's been happening has just been so- so awful??" Copia had perceived every minor thing to be some of the biggest problems he had ever experienced. Some of the most life-ruining things he had been put through were such small things to the Ghouls and the Ministry, it seemed almost childish for Copia to be so upset about them. "Everything is awful- it's awful- the lights, the sounds, and oh lord the noise.." He whined out, desperately covering his ears as his eyes shut tight.

Listening to Copia be so distressed was difficult, especially since every touch the Ghouls tried to comfort him with was immediately met with yelling and more crying. The Ghouls exchanged glances between each other, their worry given away simply by their posture. What was the best way to help Papa when they had no clue what he was going through? One finally decided to speak up, Cirrus, who used a gentle tone to approach Copia. "What do you think you need right now? We don't know how to help you.." She offered the question to the sobbing man, almost as an effort to get him to focus on something else.

"I don't- know- I don't know.." His voice was almost a whisper, broken from his emotionally pained cries. "I just- I don't know!"

"That's okay, Papa, it's okay to not know. Do you want to sit in your library? Would that help? You said you didn't like the light," She offered, glancing at the other ghouls. "Or the noise, it's quiet in the library, remember?" When she got a nod out of Copia, she smiled. "Come on, let's go there, okay? You can sit by the fireplace in your favorite chair." The Ghouls all knew that Copia had a favorite chair in the library. It was big, almost comically big, with a high back and intricate baroque trimming around the edges, the cushions being a dark red and soft to the touch.

Once Copia nodded again, he took Cirrus' sleeve into his hand and allowed himself to be led to the library, the other Ghouls trailing behind as their shoes clacked on the tile floor of the halls. Rain was the one to signal for the group to try and walk a bit quieter, noticing just how much the sound bothered Copia at the moment. A silent appreciation radiated from the emotional man as he wiped the streaking face paint from his cheeks. The once clean and precise skull art was now smeared and tear-streaked, causing it to just become a grey blob on his damp face.

Arriving in the library, the atmosphere was already much nicer. It was kept much cooler in the room for the preservation of the old tomes, the lack of bright lights helping maintain this ambient temperature. "How's this, Papa? Isn't this much better?" Cumulus chimed in, helping Copia settle into his chair as she removed the ruined paint. She got an approving hum from the man, not minding his lack of words at the moment. Without a word, the other Ghouls proceeded to pile onto the floor beside the chair as Swiss started a low fire in the fireplace, replacing the old and charred kindling.

The silence was so nice, even with the occasional crackle of the fire splitting through it. When Cumulus offered to redo his paint, Copia shook his head, letting her sit with the others to just enjoy the quiet. He felt calmer after what seemed like forever, just sitting there and listening to the steady breathing of his Ghouls.

This is what he really needed, and he planned to enjoy it as long as the world would let him.

58 notes · View notes

ghoultemple · 1 year

Text

copia headcanons

sad edition - psa for mentions of anxiety, paranoia and delusiom

cardinal has always been in the shadows. from his days as a deacon until the day he was finally contacted by seestor to take the lead of the band — and the day he became papa; he has always lived in the shadows.

when growing up, he’d try to be like the brothers. everyone looked up to them. they were stunning, charming, had a great way with words, and just had that exquisite aura around them. as much as cardinal looked like them physically — as the white eye was the biggest proof he was somehow an emeritus — it was truly hard for him to find worth inside his heart and self.

during his childhood, copia struggled to make friends, but just because he had too many things to do as seestor insisted he had to take extra classes on things neither of the kids needed. he grew up alone in the library, reading, and learning. his best friend was the silence and the crack of wood burning in the fireplace on cold nights. he used to use his free time trying to make friends, but how can you be friends with people you never speak with?

during his adolescence, it was even harder. the awkwardness and yearning to be part of something consuming him. it was painful, truly. he just wanted consolation, a friend to mess up with, but in the end, he was the one being messed up. terzo felt bad, as he one day saw copia try to say something during the only class inside the ministry they shared, and everyone ignored him. the way he had no one to be with him.

secondo was already on his way, studying to become papa, he knew he was the one to come to be, he has always been nihil’s favorite. but terzo had the charm and way to talk with everyone and he was a true — as in “assumed nihil’s child” — emeritus. people would kneel if he requested. so he started to walk with copia sometimes, near enough people to pay attention to him more often. but it didn’t go the way he wanted.

they’d only start talking with copia for the pure interest of knowing more about terzo and secondo, and copia started to see himself as a bridge and not the final destination.

and as time passed by, things got worse.

copia found himself alone, with not a single person to share a deep connection with. the feeling of not being important consumes him, until the day he became nihil’s right hand.

he finally had a purpose. something that would finally add some value, that would finally fill the void inside his heart, and make him understand he is important and worthy to the world.

but nihil despised copia, who never understood why. but the mental disturbance was consuming him, the invalidation and disapproval on nihil’s part, whenever copia was around, was the equivalent of being stabbed three times in your lungs. it was heartbreaking. but he had to keep the position.

copia developed anxiety, and he started to overthink everything. not allowing himself to have fun, or to be himself around nihil. his only company was his rats, to who he created affection for after all the long nights in the library.

his anxiety got worse each day, but he was so good at hiding, no one noticed. but to be honest, no one cared. he was invisible in the ministry, he was not important; there’s no need to notice that.

then everything changed.

when his brothers died, copia had one more thing to add to his big pile of mental instability: delusions and paranoia.

he felt like he was next, he knows he’s going to die. a change in tone from one of his ghouls triggers him, and they need to reassure him they’re not mad. a small change of behavior will make copia lose sleep, but he won’t admit it. he won’t ask for help. because in his head, no one will ever listen.

he grew invisible, a vine on frigid cobblestone. unimportant. no one will see or care when it starts to develop flowers or thorns. no one will care when he dies from the poisonous perfume or the deadly cut on his fingers.

but regardless, copia remains sweet and caring. he will look up to everyone around him, but break everything mirror he ever comes across: he can’t dare look at the reflection of the responsible for all the failures in his past. he can’t dare to look at himself and feel how unimportant he is. he prefers the image of the people who love him, even if he doesn’t believe in them. he will prefer to see himself as some sort of comfort to others, because he was never a comfort for himself.

#made myself cry writing this #maybe this is a little bit too much projection #but i just wanted to point out how i see him #and how this affects my own way of writing copia #the band ghost #ghost fanfic #ghost #cardinal copia #cardi c #papa emeritus iv #popia #papa copia #copia fanfic #copia headcanons

51 notes · View notes

viccyfics · 3 months

Text

I can never work on a series... I just keep writing new fics so here's some Copia angst.

#Copia #young copia #Copia fanfic #Ghost band fanfiction #Ghost BC fanfic #vic fics #Fanfic wip #Wips

5 notes · View notes

ramblingoak · 4 months

Text

Naps With Copia

Chapter 4: Un Riposino A Verona

Other Naps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

For @foxybouquet 💙

Cardinal Copia x GN Reader

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

Warnings: Copia being sweet with you while you're on a trip to Italy, sfw, about 800 words

“So what do you think, amore?”

Copia let go of your hand briefly to get the hotel room door open, placing a hand on the small of your back to usher you inside once he did. You watched as he removed his red suit jacket and threw it over the back of a chair. The buttons of his black shirt were next and when you noticed him fumbling on a few you moved close to help him.

“Too much wine at lunch, Cardinal?”

“Bah, no such thing.” You swatted at his hands when he tried to help you but rather than dropping them at his sides he reached up to cup your face. It was hard not to lean into the warm leather and you sighed softly when he rubbed his thumbs over your cheeks. “What do you think of Italy?”

You almost laughed because really, that was the silliest question. What did you think of Italy? You loved Italy. When Copia had come to you and asked if you wanted to go with him to a conference here you hadn’t even given him a chance to finish the question. Two weeks in Verona, Italy with the man you loved more than anything else in the world, how could you say no? Why would you say no?

While you were technically there for work the meetings and events only were scheduled in the morning. After they were done you were treated to some of the finest meals you had ever eaten in your life. Today’s lunch was spinach risotto (you could still hear the little happy noises Copia had made while eating it) followed by a salad with stewed artichoke and grilled trout. Normally you would both stay after to nibble on whatever fresh fruit they had to offer and to chat with the other attendees but today Copia had grabbed your hand and swept you out of there as soon as your plate was clean.

So far you had spent most of your afternoons exploring the city. It had been so special to see Italy through Copia’s eyes and he was always so excited to show you things. Even more special was how he just seemed excited to show you off to anyone you met. Today had been no different, your first stop after lunch was to a gelateria and after introducing you to everyone that worked there he had made sure you got samples of every flavor that caught your eye. By the time you were done you were full of so much good food and so much love you nearly cried when he suggested you go back to the hotel.

“Amore?”

“Hmm? Oh! Sorry, Copia.” You laughed a little, shaking your head to bring yourself back to the present. Perhaps you had a little too much wine yourself. To reassure him you leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, smiling when you tasted the strawberry gelato that clung to his lips. “I was just thinking about how much I love being here. With you.”

Your smile grew when you noticed his blush but instead of teasing him you finished with his shirt and helped get his arms out of it. While you tried to hang it over the chair to prevent wrinkles Copia wandered over to the plush daybed near the windows of the suite. You heard him grunt and when you turned around he was already sprawled across it on his back in just his undershirt and pants. He lifted his head when he heard your footsteps and held out his hands for yours.

“Come now, amore. Time for our riposino.”

“At least take your pants off.”

It was his turn to swat your hands away and in a quick move he grasped your elbows and pulled you onto the bed next to him.

“Why are you always trying to get my pants off, eh?”

“My apologies Cardinal, it won’t happen again.” His pout was back and you had to bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your giggling. “I promise.”

“Let’s not get hasty, amore. Maybe in a few hours, huh?” Copia let out a big yawn while he shifted so he was practically wrapped around you. “Nap first, then we’ll talk about my pants.”

“Fine, fine.” You kicked your shoes off and settled more comfortably against your Cardinal. It was getting harder to keep your eyes open but you couldn’t resist whispering your thanks against his chest, the hair peeking out from the top of his shirt tickling your nose while you spoke. “Thank you for inviting me, Copia.”

“I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.”

After a few more strawberry flavored kisses you both settled further against each other as the window drapes blew gently in the breeze. From outside you could hear the water lapping against the old stones along the edge of the canal and that along with Copia’s soft breathing was all you needed to be lulled into sleep.

@conjuring-ghouls your nap is next 😉

Other Naps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

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

#my fics #my writing #naps with copia #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #copia fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic

195 notes · View notes

kidstemplatte · 5 months

Text

the greatest (teaser)

the universe presents copia with an opportunity he’s been waiting his whole life for: fatherhood.

pairings: story focuses on dad! copia, however, reader is terzo’s wife.

warnings: mention of suicide

this was originally supposed to be a 3 part series, this post being part one, but i’ve decided to make it all one big fic! this post can serve as a little sneak peek :)

“You’d be a good Papa.”

His niece’s kind words still echoed in his mind, even after five years.

The Cardinal had wanted to become a father for quite some time now, but wasn’t sure if he was fit for the job. He himself was a bit of a child, which could be considered a pro or a con; the upside being he was fun and pure-hearted, the downside that he could be a tad chaotic.

“Come in.” A hoarse voice rang from within the room.

Copia gently pushed the door open and entered the lavish office. Sister Imperator’s office couldn’t differ any more from the Cardinal’s, sporting a classy yet minimalistic aesthetic decked in shades of brown and black. Meanwhile, Copia’s office had “Copia” written all over it in big cartoonish block letters, thanks to the dozens of figurines and comic books lining the shelves, as well as other dorky memorabilia.

Sister Imperator sat behind her meticulously organized desk, clasped hands resting on the polished wood.

“Hello Sister.” Copia greeted the woman formally, bowing his head as he took a seat in the plush chair across from hers.

“Cardinal.” She returned the greeting with a brief nod, before instantly began diving into her reason for his summoning. “Do you recall, a few years back, when a Sister of the Austrian chapter took her own life?” she inquired.

That was a rather rough introduction to a conversation. Of course he remembered, how could he not? It was a tragic day, each chapter holding their own memorial ceremony for the young woman.

“Oh. Si, I do.” Copia answered, saddened at the remembrance of the event.

“Well, she had a son additionally, who had an absent father.”

Been there.

Copia suddenly became much more alert, his eyes widening and posture straightening. “You mean… a family?”

“C, if you’re interested…” Sister Imperator noticed a longing in her son’s eyes that she had not seen in a long time- not since he was but a child brimming with curiosity, a subtle glow that surfaced only when he wanted something deeply, most of the time, an answer- but this time- it was more than curiosity, it was yearning. “Now would be the time.”

“Yes.” The Cardinal blurted out. “Yes.”

“The adoption process is not easy- yet alone raising a child. This is a massive responsibility. Are you sure you are able to handle this on top of a Cardinal’s duties?” She cautioned him.

“Yes, Mother.” He reiterated. She froze.

“I want this more than anything.” He pleaded.

“I will notify them of your consideration.” She nodded.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. Grazie. Grazie.” The Cardinal repeated like a mantra, placing his hands together as he bowed his head in gratitude.

•✧•

“Please, join us.” Copia gestured. “Is Violetta here?” he asked.

“She’s in her room. She’s not feeling very well tonight.” answered Terzo.

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Let her know I said hello.” Copia responded.

“Will do. So, what is going on?” Terzo asked, reaching to the coffee table in front of him and pouring his brother a glass of wine before setting it down.

Copia took a deep breath in and began. “Sister Imperator called me into her office today and gave me some news.”

“News that..?”

You elbowed Terzo in response to his impatience. “Let the man speak!”

“Eh, do you remember when a woman of the Austrian chapter, um… She took her own life?”

“Johanna?” You asked.

“You knew her?”

“Oh, no, do not apologize. Please, continue, if you are comfortable.”

“Okay.” you sniffled, laughing nervously. “There’s not much else, it’s just- it was sad. My bad, go on.”

Your husband placed a loving hand over yours, a subtle way he reminded you that you were safe with him.

Copia nodded. “Well, she had a son, who has lived in the church his whole life. But, um, they are considering finding him a more traditional… family.” He explained.

“Here?” Terzo inquired.

“Si, ah… with me.”

“You are adopting him?” Terzo lit up.

“If everything goes according to plan, yes.” He replied slightly hesitantly.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Copia!” You nearly cried, your face lighting up with joy.

He laughed, a smile grazing his face at the idea. “Ah, well, we don’t know for sure yet. The process is a bit difficult. I fear it won’t work out.” He responded.

“Copia, you can’t mourn the loss of something that’s just beginning!” You encouraged him.

“Do you really think Sister Imperator would ever propose such a thing to someone she didn’t trust could do it?” pointed out Terzo.

“That is a good point.” Copia replied. “I just… even if it works out… what if I am not… good?” He rambled anxiously.

“Not good? Our kids can’t get enough of you.” Terzo reassured his brother.

The Cardinal smiled at the thought of his niece and nephew.

“So what do you know about him?” You asked eagerly.

“Well, ah, that’s actually all I know… And that he’s five years old.”

“Oh my gosh! He’s the same age as Vinnie! It was meant to be!” You gushed, excitedly waving your hands. “Copia. I think it’s gonna happen. I really, really do.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” He expressed his gratitude with a heartfelt smile.

“Mommy?” You heard a voice squeak in the distance. Turning around in your spot on the couch, a small figure stood down the hallway.

“Hi, Vinnie. What’s wrong?” You asked, a gentle tone adorning your voice. “Excuse me, I’ll be back.” You told your brother-in-law and husband as you rose to your son’s aid.

“Copia.” Terzo addressed his brother, his voice suddenly earnest.

“Yes?”

“When have I ever lied to you?” Terzo inquired.

Pondering the question and recalling no particular incident, he shrugged.

“Exactly. You can do this, Copia. And you will.”Terzo uplifted the Cardinal, his words touching the heart of his beloved half-brother.

“Thank you, Terzo.”

Terzo smiled, reaching across the table to pat the Cardinal on his shoulder.

“I mean it, fratello.”

•✧•

That night, Copia closed the door to his small abode and let out a hefty sigh. His expression softened a little as he caught sight of the large cage sitting on a table against the wall, inside containing two furry friends. Inside of the enclosure stood a dusty brown rat perched on his hind feet and clutching onto the metal bars, eagerly waiting for his Papa’s return.

That night, the Cardinal felt inclined to do something he hadn’t done in a long time. Overwhelmed with an immense sense of desperation, Copia prayed on his own in the solitude of his room. He knelt beside his bed, knees on the hardwood floor as he placed his hands together and shut his eyes tight, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he began his prayer.

He needed this. More than he had ever needed anything in his entire life.

Little did he know, the boy needed him just as much.

•✧•

hey y’all! i’m so sorry it’s been so long!! i’ve been doing college stuff and my motivation has been 📉 but i have so many ideas i want to put out there!!! i have two more parts planned for this fic:) i hope you enjoyed! i’m sorry this part is very brief but i wanted it to serve as a little introduction! tysm for reading! i love y’all!

<3, alice

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus #papa terzo #terzo x reader #copia emeritus #copia #dad! copia #cardinal copia #papa copia #copia fanfic #copia x reader #ghost fanfiction

47 notes · View notes

copiass · 2 years

Text

Batter Up {Copia x Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,687

Warnings: nsfw, semi-public sex, light dom/sub, unprotected sex, fingering, spanking, delay/denial, glove kink

Summary: Baseball Copia Oneshot AKA:

You had fully anticipated what Copia would be like after playing to a crowd, all camera and eyes on him, doing his duty for your Dark Lord. What you hadn't anticipated - was how much you would like it.

You can also read here on Ao3

Looking back on it you should have known this was how it would turn out. From the moment Sister put down the phone with that non-descript smirk on her face. From the moment Copia had to leave you spent and sated in his bed to go for that stupid outfit fitting. From the moment you got to this stupid stadium, ushered into a private box left to watch him from afar.

You’d known full well what he would be like after the event. He was the same after a show, pacing and pent up and restless. Seeking you out backstage afterwards to exorcise himself of it by taking you against the nearest wall and emptying his balls into you as deep as he could. Yes, you had fully anticipated what Copia would be like after playing to a crowd, all camera and eyes on him, doing his duty for his Dark Lord. What you hadn't anticipated - was how much you would like it.

Admittedly, at first it had been funny. You had both laughed about it together, teasing at his obvious clumsy nature, questioning what in hell Sister was thinking arranging for Papa to participate in sport of all things. Much to Primo’s annoyance you had offered to help Copia practise his pitches in the Ministry gardens, although that didn’t last long after your quip about “playing with other balls.”

But as the day got closer, in typical Copia fashion, he had started to worry. Pacing in his office, endlessly practising his form in the long gilded mirror in his bedroom, worrying about the weight he had put on recently and those “infernal white baseball pants.” As always you had been there to put his mind at rest, reminding him with sweet nothings in his ear as you rocked in his lap that he was Papa, if anyone could put on a performance it was him .

And what a performance it was. The minute he’d shown up on that pitch you knew you were in for it. The way he sauntered around, hips shifting in those fitted white pants. His jersey fitted and tucked into the belt, showing his build in just the right way. The way his hands deftly handled the bat, wrist flicking as he swung it over his shoulder. Copia liked a challenge when he was pumped up like this, liked to rile the crowd up, and sure it wasn’t his usual crowd but that wasn’t going to stop him. Even from your place in the box you could see how much he was enjoying himself, lewdly gesturing with the ball and swinging his hips as he walked, lapping up every cheer and click of a camera that was just for him . It should have been annoying really, how good he looked even decked out in ridiculous sports gear, just as imposing and splendid as when he wore the cloak and mitre. And he was so good at this, schmoozing and circling with those around him. Drawing people in, keeping them entertained, this is what he was good at.

As always, his eye had somehow managed to find you, up in the box where you were practically pressed up against the glass to watch him. He’d flicked the bat back over his shoulder, pointing the end right up to you with a wink. Your thighs had been pressed together since you got there in a last-ditch effort not to completely debase yourself in public, without Copia anyway. He’d smirked, like he knew, because he always fucking knew how it got to you watching him perform like this. Just as planned he’d managed to throw a decent first pitch, though not without a Copia-like flourish, and you couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride that he had done so well, silently thanking Satanas for his favour. The congregation in the box with you had shared muttered praises, Sister wore something that sort of resembled a smile. Yet you knew who we would come look for first, whose approval he really wanted after that little performance.

That’s how you’d ended up backed into some cramped excuse for a storage room, his already hard cock pressed against you as his tongue licked across yours. His hat had long been discarded, knocked off by you attempting to get your fingers in his hair as fast as you could. On a particularly hard bite into your neck from him you had squeaked, leaving you pressed against the wall with a gloved hand over your mouth, fingers threatening to push past your lips.

“There she is, my piccolo topo , hm?” Copia breathed hot and heavy, pushing you further into the room.

You nodded, frantic, too caught up in the way he was crowding you to even think of responding verbally. He felt impossibly hard now, fabric stretched over him as he rubbed against you almost involuntarily, chasing the feeling of it. He looked even better up close, everything fitted to his form just so.

“ Mmmm - I did not even have to guess where you were Sister” he said far too politely as he pulled back to look at your face that's trapped within his hand, “I could practically smell where you were.” As if to prove his point he takes a breath in through his nose, eyes closing as he takes in your scent. You go to make a noise, admittedly a pathetic one, but his hand closes tighter over your mouth, fabric pressing against your skin.

“Ah-ah” he breathes, “You have to be quiet for me, cara mia , so I can have you before we are caught, si?” He nods almost patronisingly, using his own hand to move your head into a nod with him.

“Good girl.” He chuckles darkly at his own movement, enjoying the feeling of your breath quickening into his palm. Giving in to temptation, he pushes a finger past your lips, eyes watching intently as you do your best to please him and suck it further into your mouth. He moans at that, enjoying how eager and warm and wet you always are for him.

“Did you like Papa’s little show?” He asks, adding another finger to your mouth as he does, watching as your lips stretch around him. You try to adjust, the fabric unfamiliar and rough on your tongue. You nod as best you can with a moan of encouragement, you had a feeling he was going to find out just how much.

He withdraws his fingers with a growl, wiping your saliva onto your own cheek and moves you onto the nearest surface he can find. Once you’re perched nicely for him a low shelf, he roughly shoves up the sleeves of his black undershirt before yanking your thighs up onto his arms. You gasp as your habit slips upwards, exposing your thighs to him.

“mostrami la prova, hm ?” Copia grins as he sees your lack of underwear.

You already know he can see the evidence of just how much you enjoyed his little show, you can feel the cold air hit where it’s smeared across your bare thighs. Yet he insists. As he always does. He kneels down onto the floor, pushing the backs of your thighs open so he can see the whole of you.

Copia lets out a dark, self-satisfied laugh at what he sees, leaning forward and closing his eyes, taking another lewd breath in through his nose as he smells you. His gloved hands keep rubbing circles at the backs of your thighs, closer and closer to where you need him. You can feel yourself leaking for him, feeling flushed and over-exposed, certain you’re blushing for him. He keeps his face close to you, close enough to feel the cool air of his breath where it hits your slick, close enough for it to almost feel invasive how much he’s seeing without actually doing anything about it.

You try to cover your face, suddenly embarrassed, moving to close your legs. Copia’s grip turns solid, squeezing into the meat of your thighs so hard it would surely mark.

“Do not hide, cara mia . Tell your Papa what you want.” As if to prove his point his fingers inch closer to you, the fabric of his gloves teasing at the inside of your thigh. Then he’s dragging his eyes to look up at you again, his own heavy lidded and mouth half open as he waits for you to speak.

“Want your f-fingers, Papa.” You manage to squeak out, trying to keep quiet. The game is carrying on outside, loud fanfare music and the crowd cheering just the other side of the wall, yet it still comes out as a whisper.

Copia grunts, dissatisfied and flattens his fingers and brings them to rub against the whole of you in one go, sweeping your slick up to your clit and back again, the press of his gloves firm against you.

“Sorry? I cannot hear you mia dolce , tell Papa what you need. He is feeling generous today.” He’s using that sickly sweet voice as he carries on rubbing at you, the leather gliding against you in a way that makes it hard to even think. Your apparent lack of an answer frustrates him, and he slaps your thigh hard with his other hand as he strokes you. You jump, clenching around nothing at the sting caused by his fingers.

“Your fingers, Papa please.” You breathe out a little louder, half dizzy from the way he’s rubbing you. He grins, pleased with your answer.

“My fingers? Hm?” Copia starts, still working his flattened hand up and down on you. You nod quickly, eagerly in response, trying not to grind against where you need them most.

He moves up then to be pressed closer, hand still working at you. “But cara mia, these are not my gloves hm? These were a gift -” he starts, pushing one finger into you. You gasp as he starts to fuck you with it, pushing up into that spot he finds so easily. The fabric is strange, different to the other gloves Copia has had inside you, yet not unpleasant.

“Would you have me ruin them? Would you have me send them back covered in the smell of you?” He’s babbling now, lost in what he’s saying and the feel of you clenching around him even through the material. You couldn’t have answered if you tried, too lost in the way he was fucking you, pressing you into the shelf beneath you.

“Maybe I will keep them. Give you another pair to ruin with your cunt as you did the others.” Copia chides as he adds another finger, fucking up into you as you leak into his hand. You can feel yourself getting closer, the feeling of his fingers working you as his other hand grips at your thigh, that pleasant pressure he’s so good at giving you building into something more. Hips circling with his movements, you slide your hand down to rub at your clit, desperate to come after watching him work. Copia makes a sick, satisfied growl as he watches you touch yourself, arching his fingers faster into you. Without thought he bends his head down to meet your hand, sucking and licking between your fingers and clit, whatever he can get his tongue on first. You cry out, the feeling hot and wet and exactly what you needed.

You grip desperately onto the lapel of his jersey, knuckles white as you start to bear down on his fingers. Copia chuckles and starts to move away, fingers cruelly slipping out of you. The noise you make is weak and pathetic, tears threaten to spill over as you grab at him, trying to pull him back.

“Need you to cum on my cock-” he grunts an explanation, past the point of talking himself. He kneels back abruptly, ripping open the belt and zipper on his pants, pulling himself out and stroking roughly, head thrown back. You moan at the sight of him, gloves ruined, sleeves pushed up and uniform thoroughly dishevelled as he jerks himself, his cock red and leaking. You use his momentary distraction to throw yourself forwards, knocking him onto his back as you straddle him.

Copia says nothing, you’re not sure he can, so you lower yourself onto him, eyes locked onto his as you take him all in. You know he likes it when you take him slow, especially when he’s like this, making sure you feel every ridge of him inside you, clenching against him as he throws his head back. It’s a favourite position of his, likes feeling you rut and squeeze against him, taking what you need from him, from his cock. He’s just as pent up as you are after his performance, needing you to help him release the adrenaline.

Once he’s fully inside you pause for a moment, delighting in the way he fills up every inch of you til it almost hurts, pressing at that spot inside when he moves. You pull the rest of your habit open, smiling sickly at the way his eyes watch, licking his lips as he watches your tits bounce as you take him a little faster. His lips go to speak but no words come out, his ability to think cut off by the tight clench of your cunt.

“No more words Papa?” you tease, picking up the pace, ignoring the burning in your thighs. Oh, you liked playing this game.

Copia lets out a groan, incapable of responding as you start to circle your hips.

“What about your pants, Papa? Were they not a gift? ” You smirk, using his own words against him. You take him all the way in, his balls pressed right against you as you speak again and grind down.

“Would you have me ruin these too? Send these back covered in my cum?” You start riding him faster, feeling your own slick drip down his cock and onto his balls. The best Copia can do is grip onto your waist, pulling you down onto him. The sound of the game continues outside, your own ears filled with the sounds of slapping skin and heavy breathing.

“You can ruin these like you have ruined so many others” you grin, thinking of all the cassocks and trousers you’ve sent to dry-cleaning, leaving Copia red-faced when he has to collect it. He groans as he pulses inside you, warning you that he’s close.

“Please cum, mia dolce ” He manages to choke out, “Please use me , use my cock to cum, please I need it” Copia begs, moving his hips to meet up with your thrust as his slick covered gloves start to rub at your clit once more.

As you draw nearer to your orgasm you spit into your hand, moving it behind you to palm at his balls as he fucks you. His body jerks at your touch and he pulses inside you, huffing out breathy groans as he starts to empty his balls inside you. His own orgasm sends you over the edge, letting you milk his cock as you come, that band finally snapping and sending shockwaves through your body.

You carry on riding him, using him until you’ve both finished, the room silent except for the sound of heavy breaths against the backdrop of loud music and cheers. His hand moves from your waist to your back, guiding you to rest on top of him. You gladly follow, feeling warm and sated, enjoying the feeling of being full of him once again. Copia smiles against the top of your head as you nuzzle into his shoulder, just for a moment. You both lie, chest heaving against one another as he strokes your back, enjoying the feeling of you still around him.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence you let out a giggle, laughing at the circumstances that had brought you here.

“What is it, cara?” He asks, laughing now too.

“Nothing.” You start, sitting up to look at him beneath you. “I just liked your outfit. You should keep it.”

#ghost band fanfic #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #popia x reader #copia fanfic #nsft #ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia #copia #ghost band #smut

284 notes · View notes