A Nap With Secondo

one more? | cardinal copia x gn!reader

Inspired by all the kiss prompts. This is for @leezlelatch ♡

content: 750 words, gn!reader, some suggestiveness and spice but nothing explicit, lots of kissing going on here, we get a little frisky

Masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦

Lunch breaks are invariably too short. They feel even shorter since you spend them wrapped up in Copia’s cassocked arms, hidden away in an empty corner behind the entrance to the library. Your back is pressed against the cool stone walls, your habit disheveled from his wandering hands, leaving half of your leg exposed to the chill draft haunting this part of the abbey.

The cool air feels heavenly against your heated skin where Copia’s fingertips are trailing up to your hip and back down in a steady dance. It’s oddly tender compared to the way his mouth is so insistent on devouring you. You can only imagine the purple discolorations blooming on your neck right now, the smears of lipstick and bite marks he left in his impatient fervor after he’d pinned you to the wall.

The bells have long since chimed to announce the passing of lunch hour. He should be back in his office and you should be back behind the reception desk. And yet your arms are still tightly slung around his shoulders as his tongue licks into your hungry mouth.

“I have to go back,” he mumbles for the fifth time as he breaks away for air, trying to step back but you don’t let go of his neck. “Amore…”

With your hand in his hair, you press your mouth to his once again, ignoring his complaints. His biretta has long since fallen off his head and you make use of the easy access, dragging your nails over his scalp in the way that he loves so much. He moans loudly and kisses back for a moment, moving his swollen lips against yours just almost chastely now. With the kiss distracting you, his gloved fingers wrap around your wrists and he pulls them off of him, pretending to pin you to the wall. With your hands off of him, he tries to tear himself away once more, but your fingers grasp his pellegrina at the last second. You yank him back, bringing your mouth to his ear as he stumbles into you. “One more kiss? Please?”

“You want your Cardinal to be late?” he whispers, bracing himself against the wall behind you.

“Yes, if it means I get another kiss.”

“I will get in trouble, amore.” He drags his nose along your cheek before nuzzling yours. “Do you have no compassion for me?”

“No.”

He tsks, pulling back slightly when you try to capture his lips again. “So cruel. So cruel to your Cardinal and you claim to love me.”

“I do love you. That’s why I want another one, silly.” You try to pull at his robes again but he won’t budge. “Please please please.”

He whimpers softly. “You know what begging does to me, dolce.”

“Please. Please, Cardinal, I need one more.”

“One more, then you will let me go?”

“Mhm.”

He leans in, kissing you as softly as he can muster. You trap his full bottom lip between your teeth for a second and he groans, pressing in harder until the back of your head hits the wall again.  He pulls away with a desperate sigh and you whine at the loss of him.

“One more,” you beg, tugging at his robes.

“Amore,” he groans. “You are getting greedy now.”

“Isn’t greed a virtue?”

“I think you are mixing that up, no?”

He gives you another peck before he fully pulls away. You allow it this time, conceding in favor of your own reputation. Someone is going to want something from you any second now and you still have to get presentable.

Copia straightens his rumpled cassock before glancing at your ruined face with a smirk. “We continue this tonight, amore,” he promises. “You will bring the same hunger, yes?”

You nod, smiling like a fool when he winks at you. He almost stumbles over his own feet as he turns back around, still drunk on endorphins and your taste. A few deep breaths and you gather your wits before your eyes get caught by a red blob of color on the floor.

You pick up his biretta and put it on your head. He’s already halfway down the hall when you call out to him. “Looks like you forgot something, Cardinal.”

He spins around, the skirt of his cassock whirling around his legs. “Don’t even say it, amore.”

“You’re lucky,” you say with a grin. “Payment is very cheap today.”

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

Banchetto: Insalata

Papa Emeritus III x Reader

AO3 | Contorno | Masterpost

A caprese salad consists of so few ingredients but as long as they are fresh and ripe they bring the perfect balance. For variety you pick an assortment of tomatoes, blood red heirlooms, green beefsteak and orange roma. The visual appeal of the assorted colours, shapes and texture more than make up for the non traditional choices. Freshly made mozzarella as well, all evenly sliced and then already the preparation is almost complete.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You are reading. Well, you are trying to read but unfortunately the man sitting across from you is proving far too much of a distraction. It was mid morning, breakfast long since eaten and cleared away. You had joined him as you did so often now and it was barely creeping towards time to begin thinking about lunch. Copia had returned your notes and you were still in the process of working through them, adding sticky notes with your amendments into the recipes to help you when time came to make them. That’s what you should be doing at least.

Instead every few seconds you find your gaze pulled back to him. He is also reading, the glasses he only just admitted to needing perched on the end of his nose. They slip further down every time he scrunches his face at whatever it is he is reading and you have lost count of how many times he has paused to push them up carelessly. Every now and then he notices the smudges left by his fingers and removes them completely to wipe them on his handkerchief as he shoots you a smile. He had let his hair air dry this morning so it falls in soft waves over his forehead. The muted sunlight catches in his silver roots every time he pushes his hair out of his eyes. You think to tell him how good he looks at this moment but you don’t want to break the comfortable silence. 

It’s sickeningly domestic but you can honestly say you have never been happier. The shift was subtle at first as you had spent a great deal of time in his rooms anyway but in a matter of days that time grew longer and longer until you rarely left on more than an errand from morning to evening. He would ask you to sit with him as he worked, join him for meals, linger in the kitchen as you prepared and even once attempting to help you clean the dishes. That is until he ended up dropping a plate in his inattention, the resounding crash making your heart skip a beat in a much less pleasant way then it usually did around him. You couldn’t even begin to be annoyed with him though, his apologetic puppy eyes forcing you to let him off with only a banishment to the kitchen table and a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Affection was easier now, not always so underlined with that awkward tension you had almost become used to. He liked to touch you. To lace your fingers together across the table when you ate, rest his hand on your waist when you stood together, play with a lock of your hair as you spoke, press a chaste kiss to hand or your cheek in passing. You had been hesitant at first to return his affection so boldly but the way he would glow when you reached for him first, his wide smile emphasising your favourite creases at the corners of his eyes, was enough to override your self consciousness.

There was still tension there, hot little frissons if you look into his eyes a bit too long or his body rests a little too close. Part of you wants to chase it but you no longer felt the need to rush. Although unspoken it seems you both chose to relish in this period of getting to know each other better, talking about your likes, dislikes, views and opinions or just existing in each other's company. It is comfortable in a way you never imagined you could be with him but you are more sure now than ever that ‘Papa Emeritus III’ who had led the Ghost project and the church was only a very superficial part of who he was.

There’s a childlike glee in him every time he tells you stories of his life peppered with ridiculous puns and dorky jokes that feels so far removed from the persona you had thought you had known previously. And yet you can see how he thrived as a performer and took to that role so naturally. He puts his whole self into recreating the tale he is telling with animated hands, exaggerated expressions and often silly voices whether he is talking about his misspent youth, rising through the clergy ranks or his touring adventures. You would start to feel very uninteresting in comparison until he would start to tease stories from you. Your worst cooking disasters that have him crying with laughter and disbelief that you could ever make a potato explode. But when he asks you of your family and your childhood you see a sad wistfulness in his expression that makes your heart hurt and you hope that one day he might open up about some of the harder parts of his life as well.

The tolling of the 11 o’clock bell brings an end to your romantic reverie. It is time to return to reality and begin thinking about lunch. You uncurl yourself from the armchair, your movements capturing his attention. He beckons you towards him with a curled finger as he places his book down on the settee beside him. You should go straight to the kitchen but as he has distracted you all morning anyway what is the harm in a few more minutes. You are sure your eagerness is obvious as before you know it you are sitting in his lap with his arms around you. 

‘Where are you off to cara mia,’ he says once you are settled. You slide his glasses up and into his hair, pulling the long fringe out of his face and you can’t resist letting your fingers run through the length until you can play with the strands at the nape of his neck. ‘I have been enjoying you watching me so attentively.’

‘And I was enjoying the view,’ you tease. His deep chuckle rumbles through his chest pleasantly where you are pressed against him. He leans up for a kiss, unable to keep the pleased smile from his face. Your lips ghost over his, barely indulging him but leaning down to continue talking in his ear. ‘I am about to start working on your lunch.’

‘How about an amuse bouche first mia cuocoina?’ He is irresistible when he is like this so you indulge him. You press kisses along a teasing path, his temple, his sharp cheekbone and the tip of his nose before finally reaching his lips. He closes the remaining distance between you impatiently and just as you are about to deepen the kiss a loud knocking rings out through the room. He drops his head against the back of the settee with a huff of annoyance and you have to forcibly remove his hands from your hips for you to be able to get up. You open the door to find a ghoul waiting for you on the other side holding a basket and a note.

‘From Papa Primo, for you Sister.’ They hand it to you before abruptly turning to leave and you see Terzo’s head shoot up in interest as you close the door and turn around.

‘What is he writing to you about?’ He glares over the back of the chair, watching you put the basket down on his desk. 

‘Let me open it and I will tell you,’ you retorted. The basket is heavy and you have no doubt that this is yet another offering from Primo’s greenhouses. He hauls himself up from the settee with an exaggerated groan as you unfold the thick paper and read. 

Sorella it is about time my brother gets out of his rooms and I suspect you will have more success convincing him then I. If I could prevail on you to make us a light lunch and bring it along with him to the rose garden I would be very appreciative. Secondo and Copia will also be joining us as well as yourself if you would do us the honour. 

I will expect you both at noon. 

Primo

Terzo. It will be good to see you. Please do not give the sorella any trouble and do as you are bid. 

Handing the note to him you dig into the basket. Underneath the fragrant bunches of fresh herbs you find it’s filled to the brim with ripe tomatoes in a variety of sizes and colours, probably hand picked from the vine that very morning. 

‘Why do you get a longer note than me?’ He grumbles, squinting at his brother's cursive scrawl, clearly forgetting to drop his glasses back down onto his nose. Circling around him you knock them gently out of his hair so he can at least see even if they land a little crookedly. 

‘Lunch is going to be alfresco today,’ you call over your shoulder as you head into the kitchen to get started, not giving him any chance to argue. With less than an hour to prepare this is not going to be your most elaborate creation but you have some freshly made mozzarella and along with Primo’s offering you have an idea that should be perfect. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The dressing for this salad could be as simple as a drizzle of balsamic vinegar but you do prefer to add a little more flavour. To an old jam jar you add olive oil, honey, freshly pressed garlic and of course the main ingredient, balsamic vinegar. Why a jam jar you may ask? Well the trick with a vinaigrette is understanding that the separate ingredients don’t really want to mix together. You can stir it, whisk it, even blend it but unless you are serving it straight away the mixture will begin to separate. You prefer to give it a good shake to mix everything and your trusty jam jar allows you to do that right before the dish is served.  

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Prepping a quick salad with what Primo had sent you takes around half an hour but you are done with time still to spare. Terzo had disappeared to his bedroom after grumbling to himself about his ‘fratello esigente’ and was yet to return so you took the time to grab some leftovers to make this lunch a little more substantial. There was half a loaf of bread that you sliced up, some stuffed peppers and olives, cuts of ham and cheese and even some pepper taralli that had become a constant request since you had first made them all those weeks ago. 

With everything that would fit packed away in the little basket you go to find Terzo who had yet to reappear. Even with the amount of time you were in each other's company you still hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in his bedroom. You understood, you supposed. It was his one sanctuary away from everything but you hoped one day soon he might invite you even there. The door is open when you round the corner and you see him standing before his mirror, a pile of shirts sitting on the bed next to him. 

‘I’m ready to go Terzo,’ you say after knocking on the door frame. He turns to you with a frown on his face but your attention is drawn to his open shirt. His dark chest hair and olive skin contrast beautifully with the stark white of the shirt he is trying on. He starts to button it from his mid chest leaving an enticing glimpse but you can see his frustration build as he gets further and further down. His once flat stomach now protrudes slightly from his waistband, not enough to have the buttons pull but the shape of his body is visible. He looks incredible.

‘I can not go out like this cara mia,’ he says, turning back to his reflection to scrutinise his outfit. 

‘Why not?’ you ask. You cross the room coming to a stop behind him so you are looking at the same thing he is in the mirror. 

‘Look at me,’ he gestures up and down the length of his body before settling his hands where he seems to be most self conscious. You can’t have him thinking he looks anything less than irresistible for even a moment.You wrap your hands around his waist sliding them under his own,where he is holding his belly. You caress the soft swell back and forth while you try and catch his gaze in the reflection. 

‘I am and I see a happy healthy man who has enjoyed delicious food made for him by someone who lo .. cares about him very much.’ His eyes flash in surprise before he looks over himself again from your perspective, a smug smile growing on his lips. You hope he is just about to accept your compliment and didn’t catch your little slip but you end that train of thought there. 

‘Oh is that so?’ His spark has returned, your compliments feeding his usual confidence in his attractiveness. But there is something else in his expression like he has just figured something out. ‘You like me like this, eh?’

‘I like you. Full stop.’ He preens but you sense that he wants to push you further. Hopefully the time limit you are on will stall him for now. You aren’t sure that you are quite ready to admit how much you have enjoyed feeding him up.  

‘Mmm ok,’ he responds thoughtfully, turning in your arms and pulling you flush against his soft body. He kisses you soundly, chasing your lips every time you try to pull back. Before long though his playful mood shifts as he steps back. He takes your hands in his but otherwise maintains some space between you. ‘There is something we need to talk about though before we go.’

‘What is it?’ There is a hint of worry in his voice but you try not to let yourself speculate. You needed to just listen to what he had to say. 

‘Please don’t misunderstand me when I say this.’ He pauses for but a moment to press a kiss to your knuckles trying to reassure you of his sincerity. ‘Until very recently I have never truly felt my life was my own. I had a set path that I was to walk down and very big shoes to fill as leader and well, you have seen my brothers.’ He is torn between a fondness and frustration that you can understand. ‘No matter what I do I am their fratellino.’ He locks his eyes on yours willing you to understand. ‘This, I mean what we have, I don’t want their input not yet.’ 

‘I understand Terzo.’ It is a relief to know this was all he was concerned about. You had seen for yourself how they had treated him during the intervention you had been witness to. Even though you wholeheartedly agreed with them at that time. You can understand why he would want to keep what you have private, especially so early in whatever it was that was happening. Not to mention you had your own reasons for not wanting them to know.

‘You do?’ You can’t help but smile at the relief on his face. 

‘Of course. I think you are right.’ You had long since stopped worrying about the distinction between your work for him and your relationship but you are well aware of how it might look to others. How unprofessional you were being. ‘Your brothers asked me to do a job and they might not be happy to know that I have taken on additional duties.’ You say with a wink, trying to lighten his mood further. You’re rewarded with his deep rumbling laugh as he pulls you close again. 

‘Si, si. We should review these additional duties. I think I have some additions.’ He leers at you and you can feel your cheeks heat up in response.

‘Stop that we will be late.’ You swat at his chest and get to hear him laugh yet again but it really is time to get going. ‘And I am going to need your help carrying all this food.’

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Now for your favourite part, making it all look pretty. You lay out your slices of mozzarella first, randomly placing them across the large tray you are using for this dish. The slices of beefsteak and heirloom tomatoes next trying to keep the colours balanced. You use the bright orange roma tomatoes to fill in the remaining gaps and then all that is left is fresh basil leaves tucked between the slices. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Sorella you spoil us!’ Primo says helping you unpack the basket onto the table that had been set up. You had never paid much mind to this shady corner of the rose garden but it does seem like the perfect place for an alfresco lunch. The wrought iron dining set is well kept with only specs of rust appearing on some of the joints between the ornate decorations. Five chairs are positioned around half of the oval table giving everyone a view of the garden. The table had already been set with a plain table cloth thrown over, shining silver cutlery, pretty floral plates and a bottle of red wine, already been decanted, a lace cap sitting over the opening to discourage any tempted bugs. 

‘Oh it was nothing at all Papa. Most of this I had already prepared and the salad was simple enough.’ He smiles at you warmly, his light paints emphasising the creases of his expression. He had taken the centre seat and he gestures you into the seat to his right, patting your shoulder gently. You aren’t entirely sure why you have been invited to this family gathering but it would be rude to question his invitation. 

Secondo is sitting to his left already sipping on a glass of wine but he offers you a smile, a subtle lift of the corner of his mouth before his attention is drawn to Terzo. You glance to your right where he is sitting looking uncomfortable, even hidden behind his dark glasses. He seems to be staring into the nearest bush trying to ignore the presence of his brothers. As you take a seat you try to subtly rest your hand on his knee and give him a gentle squeeze, about the only reassurance you can, given your agreement not to give away the nature of your relationship to his family quite yet. He glances at you offering you a weak smile but he rests his hand over yours before clearing his throat.  

‘Is Copia too busy to join us now?’ He asks, sounding oddly formal but finally looking in Primo’s direction. 

‘He said he would be here,’ he replies calmly as he pours everyone a glass of wine, topping up Secondo’s last. After accepting his Terzo slumps back into his seat nursing his glass. Primo tuts at him. ‘Vieni adesso, Renzo, non vorrai essere scontroso con il nostro ospite, vero?’ He sits up abruptly lifting his glasses so he can glare at Primo. 

‘Quindi è per questo che l'hai invitata? Quindi mi comporterei bene?’ Secondo tries to conceal a laugh at his Italian outburst which only earns him a share of Terzo’s glare. 

‘I have my reasons fratelino, but let’s not argue today.’ He looks at him sternly. ‘Por favore.’

‘Nessun tipo di compagnia potrebbe farlo comportare da adulto,’ Secondo mutters but whatever he says seems to upset both Primo and Terzo. ‘Ey!’ He shouts, rubbing the back of his head where Primo had just administered a quick slap. 

‘None more of that! From either of you, capisce?’ He points at the two brothers waiting for them both to nod in agreement before sitting back down. The four of you sit in silence just waiting for Copia’s arrival but just when it begins to get unbearable you hear a commotion heading towards you.  

‘Sorry I am late,’ Copia calls out breathlessly as he rushes around the corner in a blur of red. ‘Meeting with Sister Imperator ran over,’ he pants collapsing into the chair next to Secondo. He had forgone his cassock today but was still buttoned up in one of his formal suits in spite of the seasonal weather. Clearly one of the perks of being a retired Papa was being able to dress more casually. You are not sure if you had ever seen them dressed this casually during any of their reigns. 

‘Everything has gotten so behind with the Ghost project since, well…’ He trails off glancing at Terzo. He clears his throat, deciding not to continue with that line of conversation. ‘Terzo, Papa, you are looking well.’ 

‘Thank you Cardinal, you look like you could do with a good night's sleep.’ He smiles but it is sharp, Copia’s misstep digging at his still sore pride. 

‘Well, shall I tell you all what is on the menu?’ You interrupt not wanting the awkwardness to linger any longer. 

‘Yes please do, Sorella,’ Primo says, relieved at your quick thinking.

‘What you sent over was absolutely perfect for a caprese salad because just yesterday I had made some fresh mozzarella so that is the main attraction of today’s lunch but I also brought some leftovers we had to make sure no one left hungry.’ You may be waffling slightly but they all listen politely as you point out all the separate dishes. 

‘Yes I see my fratello has not been going hungry of late.’ At least Secondo waited until after you finished but you watch nervously for Terzo’s response but he just relaxes back in his chair smirking at his brother. 

‘You are not wrong I have been kept most satisfied by Sorella.’ His double entendre makes you wince slightly but you just hope they mark it down to Terzo being Terzo. 

‘No need to tell us that we can see quite well, ' he says, patting his own distinctly flatter stomach. ‘Primo you were right to call us here today. We need to help Terzo by eating all of this food so he doesn’t have to.’ 

‘Ah ha,’ Terzo laughs. ‘So this is another intervention then no?’ Primo shakes his head but doesn’t intervene this time, deciding that this back and forth was mostly good natured.

‘Si, an intervention for your growing waistline fratello,’ On the surface it is harsh but you can tell this is familiar ground for them, teasing and competing to one up each other. You imagine there were many similar conversations had when Secondo lost his hair. 

‘I do not mind so much,’ he shrugs, resting his arm on the back of your chair and letting his fingertips graze your shoulder. ‘I think there are plenty of people who enjoy a well fed man.’ You feel your cheeks heat as he says it remembering back to your conversation and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face, gaging your reaction. If you look at him now you are sure your cover will be blown.  Instead you hide your embarrassment by serving out salad between your plates but you miss the pointed looks shared between Secondo and Copia.  

There is a period of peace across the table as they all enjoy their food, the only conversation a series of compliments as they work their way through everything you brought. You are glad you decided to bring all the leftovers as you watched Primo using the last slices of bread to dip into the dressing, the only remains of the caprese salad and Copia groaning and rubbing at his stomach as he polishes off the last of the stuffed olives. 

‘I can see how you got so well fed Papa,’ he smiles in your direction. ‘I feel as if I could burst but I still don’t want to stop eating.’ You smile at his praise but you are pleased to see them all nodding in agreement.

‘Luckily for you Cardinal, all that is left is some taralli.’ You offer them each one, finishing off the last of your supply. 

‘You are lucky I didn’t know she had packed up this,’ Terzo grumbles. ‘Giving my favourite to these idioti.’ 

‘I will make you some more Papa, don’t worry,’ you reassure him. ‘I think I have the recipe down perfectly now if I do say so myself.’

‘Where did you get the recipe, Sorella?’ Secondo asks. He looks down at the taralli in his hand. ‘I can’t say I am an expert like Terzo here, but these taste exactly like the ones I remember. The ones your Madre used to send us, before.’ Before what you wonder? You glance between Terzo and Secondo but this time it seems they are sharing a fond memory instead of making digs at each other. 

‘I just found it online after Papa mentioned he would like them.’ You glance at Terzo but he doesn’t try to stop your white lie. 

‘It’s a shame you don’t have any of her recipes Terzo,’ He thinks aloud while eating his last bite. ‘I’m sure she had made the best food I had ever eaten.’ 

‘It is a shame, yes,’ Terzo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. ‘You know we weren’t allowed to keep anything from before.’ You look at Primo but he is staring down at his plate in defeat.

‘For what it is worth I am sorry ragazzi,’ He squeezes Secondos forearm and offers Terzo a sad smile. You feel like an intruder in this moment and as your eyes meet Copia’s you think he might feel the same. That is until you notice him tilting his head and looking at you deep in thought. You suspect piecing together the translations you asked him to look at with the conversation he had just heard. He takes in a breath looking like he is about to speak but you shake your head as subtly as you can until he clicks his mouth closed. That is a conversation for later.

‘Sorella, thank you for allowing us to share in your exquisite food,’ Primo says, drawing a line under the conversation that had just ended.

‘It is no problem at all Papa.’ You start to gather up the dishes, wishing you had brought another tray so you could give Primo back his basket. 

‘No no, leave the tidying to us please,’ he fusses, taking the pile of plates from your hands and handing them to a disgruntled Secondo. ‘Seeing how you convinced Terzo to actually come outside, why don’t you two go for a walk.’ There is a twinkle in his eye you are sure you have seen before. If the two of you hadn’t been so careful you might think he knew there was something between you. 

‘What do you say Papa?’ You feel like you finally have permission to properly look at him, and he looks breathtakingly handsome in the warm sun. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

‘If it gets us out of doing dishes then I am in,’ he says, almost jumping up from his chair. 

‘It was good to see you Terzo,’ Primo says to him so softly it could have been missed.

‘It was good to see you all too,’ he matches Primo’s tone looking at all three of the men still sitting at the table for a moment more before turning to you with a dazzling smile. ‘Come now Sorella lets escape while we still can.’

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The dressing you add last right at the point of serving. The jar has one last good shake before you remove the lid and pour it evenly over the whole salad. For some extra flair you start pouring at the centre and swirl until all the dressing is used. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘So that went well right?’ You are some way away from the patio so you risk moving closer, brushing your shoulders together but he doesn’t hesitate taking your hand in his.

‘Ah I suppose those nosey stronzos,’ he grumbles but there is no real bite to it, a reluctant smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

‘You know what I think?’ He only hums absentmindedly in reply, eyes following a butterfly as it dances amongst the flowers. ‘I think they missed you.’ He tips his head towards you giving you what you suspect is supposed to be an intimidating side eye but it misses its mark entirely when all you can see is the soft affection in his eyes and the sun shining off the silver grey strands running through his hair.  ‘And I think you missed them too.’

‘Bah,’ he gestures with his free hand picking up his pace as if to storm off but keeping his grip firm on you so you are forced to come with him. ‘Think you know me so well eh cara?’ It is a challenge but a playful one. There was a moment that you worried that the teasing and prodding of his brothers might have made him withdraw again but it seems that was not the case. ‘Let us see, where in this garden do you think is my favourite place?’ He stops in the middle of the path reeling you back towards him but he drops your hand to fold his arms over his chest. He thinks he has stumped you, you can tell by the smug look he is failing to conceal but you are certain you know the answer.

‘Do I get any clues?’ You ask. He thinks for a moment, tapping at the dimple of his chin.

‘It is the reason I insisted on the rooms I have.’ Maybe he thinks he is being cryptic but now you know for sure, but you don’t want to let on quite yet.

‘Ok so it is near your quarters.’ You affect a look of exaggerated deep thought and he grins at you, glad that you are playing along. Wandering slightly away from him you look about you as if looking for more clues all the while ignoring his suppressed chuckles. When the two of you spend time in his little kitchen, especially now, you spend most of your time stealing looks at one another. So often he has caught him watching you over the rim of his coffee mug except from when his attention is caught just outside his window.  Which not only gave you the chance to admire him as you so enjoy doing, but it also gave you a very good idea about his favourite part of the garden. Just in view of his window was a sculptural fountain depicting the Temptation of Eve.

‘Mmmm you are getting warm,’ he teases as you start to lead him back towards that part of the Abbey.

‘Anything else?’ You are just about to enter the walled garden when he catches up to you. He slides his arm around your waist and pulls you back against him and then lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back. 

‘It’s almost as lovely to look at as you,’ he whispers in your ear. You have to try to suppress the shivers that work your way down your spine but he is pressed so close you are sure he can feel it.  

‘Charmer,’ you chide, stepping away towards the centre of the square. ‘Stop trying to distract me.’ He reels you back in until he can rest his chin on your shoulder.  The fountain dominates the space, the nude figure intertwined with the vicious looking serpent while holding a perfect apple, poised to take a bite. 

‘You can see the fountain from the kitchen,’ you state matter of fact. You can see the very window from where you are standing visible amongst the trailing plants that climb the Abbey walls.  

‘Si and from my bedroom.’ He points towards the larger window at the end of the building as you try to orient the layout in your mind.  

‘Oh it’s like that is it,’ you tease.  

‘Hush I am trying to be sincere,’ he chides but there is no bite to it, not when he skims a kiss against your cheek. 

‘My apologies Papa.’ He clears his throat, the sound jarring in your otherwise soft conversation. ‘Terzo,’ you correct yourself. Happy now he nudges you forward until you are both standing at the edge of the splash pool and you watch for a moment, the ripples overlapping the reflection of the two of you in the water. 

‘Tell me cara mia, what brought you to this life?’ He leads you towards a bench carved into the wall surrounding this part of the garden, helping you to sit comfortably before taking a seat himself. 

‘To the Church of Satan you mean?’ It has been a long time since you thought of your life before the Ministry. 

‘Mmm,’ he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

‘I was raised in the Christian Church,’ you begin. ‘For the first say fifteen years of my life that is all I knew. As I got older though I found myself questioning. Everything I wanted went against what I was taught and I just couldn’t understand why all these arbitrary rules were put in place to stop people being themselves.’ He nods along giving you his full attention. 

‘The arguments I had with my parents when I told them I wanted to go to culinary school, well it’s laughable now but I felt like my life was ending before it had even started. They were talking about me getting married and starting a family when all I wanted to do was learn and travel and live.’ Remembering that time fills you with that same frustration. They never were able to give you an answer other than it was God’s will and that was not enough for your questioning mind.  

‘So I left. I did everything I wanted to do and then one day I was working at a festival.’ He snorts, interrupting you for the first time. 

‘I can’t imagine you in a burger van,’ he sniggers to himself. You knock his shoulder with yours but that only makes him laugh harder.  

‘I was cooking for the VIP guests, thank you very much!’ You reply haughtily. In all honesty there was nothing wrong with working in a burger van, good food is good food, but you dread to think what mental image he has conjured up of you. ‘And that's where I saw Ghost for the first time and spoke to Papa Primo.’

‘Primo recruited you?’ He looks shocked and you are surprised he didn’t already know. 

‘Well I think it was more like I volunteered and he accepted,’ you explain. ‘He had requested some wacky off menu dish and I somehow managed to make something passable and he came to thank me. I joked about his costume and how I might consider joining if I ever found a real Church of Satan.’ 

‘And he told you about this place.’ he says thoughtfully. 

‘He did! I didn’t believe him at first but I came to visit first for a week or two, but it was like as soon as I walked in the doors it felt like I had found my place.’ You had felt at home for the first time in a long long time.  

‘What about your parents?’ He asks. ‘What do they think about you coming here?’

‘It took them a long long time to accept me straying from the life they wanted for me, even though they still don’t like it.’ They had only really accepted it when you had found success which always seemed ironic to you. ‘My being here? We just don’t speak of it. I’m sure they told all their church friends that I decided to join an obscure convent.’ It was a game you liked to play every now and then, wondering what they said when people at their church asked after you.

‘Ha! But here you are getting seduced by Satanic Popes,’ he lifts his eyebrows, clearly proud of his success in corrupting you from your fictional convent. 

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ You roll your eyes at him but you are relieved that he joined you in finding humour in your strained relationship with your family. But it was his turn to share. ‘Now tell me why this is your favourite place.’

‘I used to come here when I felt lost.’ He looks down at his feet kicking at some lose stones. ‘When you have lost your way there is no one better than the Mother of Sin to help you remember what is important.’ It is a lot for him to admit given his leading role in the church. Many wouldn’t ever believe a man in his position could have ever had doubts. 

‘The bible says she was tricked into eating the apple, that her weak feminine mind was so easily warped by the serpent. But I think she made a choice. Perhaps she realised that if you are threatened and scared into ignorance you will never be free and that people deserve to choose for themselves what to do and what to believe.’ You sense his beliefs are as personal as they are philosophical. ‘Especially when so many things that bring people joy are supposed sins.’ 

You are reminded of sitting in the chapel and listening to him preach every word reaffirming your faith. He was an incredible leader and it makes your heart ache for him that he was removed from that position in such a humiliating way. You don’t voice this though. You have no doubt that these very same thoughts plague him but he is doing so much better now then when you had first properly met.  

‘Enough preaching for one day though I think,’ he laughs trailing off when he realises how long he has been talking and as much as you would happily listen to him talk for hours you let him leave the topic aside. ‘Where is your favourite place in the garden cara mia?’

‘Well that is easy.’ You don’t need to think for even a moment. ‘It’s the moon garden.’ He tilts his head in surprise. ‘I didn’t appreciate it at first, having all white flowers made no sense to me. One of the most beautiful things about flowers is the vivid rainbow of colours. But then one night I was leaving your quarters and I was on the verge of going to Primo and telling him I couldn’t do it.’ You remember that time well even though so much has changed since. Having to fight the urge to quit every time he rejected another meal. ‘You hadn’t eaten a thing and I was so upset with myself.

‘I owe you an apology, I think for being so difficult.’ He mumbles but the last thing you want to do is make him feel bad. 

‘No I mean you had your reasons,’ you say trying to reassure him.  

‘Maybe I did, I felt that I had nothing to live for I suppose.’ It hurts to hear but it isn’t a surprise that that is how he had felt. ‘But I could only stomach so much self pity before I got hungry.’ He winks at you and even this serious conversation doesn’t stop your instinctive blush spreading across your cheeks. 'Thank you for being patient with me.’ He follows the bloom of colour across your face with the tip of his fingers, his sincerity only making it worse.  

‘It was worth it,’ you admit, lowering your voice to match his soft tone. ‘Something told me I should walk through the gardens that night so I did and then it was like I had walked into another world. Every single white flower was glowing in the moonlight and I had to just sit and eventually I knew that everything was going to be alright.’  

‘And was it?’ His hand cups your face and even such an innocent touch has your heart racing as you work up the courage to say what you wish to.

‘The next day was the day you left me the recipe book.’ The moment feels fragile as he looks into your eyes searchingly. It feels good to have cleared the air of so many of your unspoken things. It’s probably inadvisable to allow him this close outside of his quarters but he looks as vulnerable as you feel right now and there is only one thing you can think to do. This kiss reminds you of the first time in the kitchen. The simple action of pressing your lips to his feels so intimate and for you at least, saying things you are far from ready to speak out loud. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Hi hello yes it is me actually updating. Please no one die of shock. I had about 1000 words of this sitting here for the last six months and then suddenly I managed to write it all in the last three days. I want to promise there won't be another six months until the next chapter but who knows what will happen to my brain. Thank you to @ghostchems and @da-rulah for letting me talk about this endlessly and @writingjourney for cheering me on even when I wouldn't tell her any spoilers haha

I hope you all enjoyed and I will be starting a tag list over again because I have no idea who might even want to read this fic anymore so please just let me know if you want to be tagged in the future chapters 💜💜💜

I make the conscious choice to act with compassion and kindness, because I was not treated with compassion or kindness.

The Count

PART ONE: THE DARE (ao3 link)

vampireCopia x Reader

tags & warnings: NSFW, MDNI, horror themes, vampire violence, blood, (eventual) smut. seriously, part one is as tame as it will be.

special thanks to @ramblingoak for the constant support and cheerleading of the vampire man. 💖

A dark and stormy night. What a bullshit cliché to befall a Satanic abbey that took up residence in an old gothic castle. But there it was, lightning and thunder swirling around the building with a wind that howled a low, unholy sound. It would have been fine if the storm hadn’t knocked the power out, but now without the flashlights, you and the others couldn’t see more than a few inches from your face.

Boredom had spread through the abbey like plague rats almost immediately after you arrived, biting at everyone until they were all infected enough to sneak out. The others said it would be fine, that they did this all the time, and if you just stuck with them you wouldn’t get into any trouble.

That probably would have been true if Sister Debra hadn’t suggested Truth or Dare.

Tired of hearing the same old ghost stories about the Count of the Castle, Debra took it upon herself to lead the others through her dull version of the game. The usual things came up quickly and after a half hour no one was left un-kissed and several of the Sisters admitted to having crushes on the same hot priest. You held your flashlight between your teeth as you picked at your cuticles, uninterested in who was more worthy to bed the unholy man.

“I’ve got one,” Sister Debra shouted over the others, her lips curling into a devilish smile. “For the new girl.”

You’d only been at the abbey a few short weeks, but it was long enough for Sister Debra to decide you were a threat. She had clawed her way to the top of the proverbial pyramid and for whatever reason, she’d laced every word she’d thrown at you with venom. It was a useless, one-sided power struggle that you had no intention of engaging in, but she had been pushing your buttons all evening.

“What is it now, Debra?” you asked with a sigh.

“I dare you to check out a book from the library—”

“Seriously?”

“—in the East Wing.” Her statement was punctuated by a well-timed crack of thunder.

The Sisters immediately stopped their chatter. Behind you, someone dropped their flashlight and let it roll heavily across the old wooden floor. The girls looked back and forth between you and Debra, waiting to see who would strike first. Rules were rules, but as far as you were concerned Debra could fuck off.

“Alright Debra,” you agreed as you slid off your perch. “Game on.”

“Wait, Sister—”

“She said she’d do it,” Debra snapped harshly. “So let her do it.”

And that was how you ended up on the second floor of the forbidden East Wing. Fucking Debra.

The first floor hadn’t revealed much, mostly old furniture still wearing covers to protect from the fibers from detritus and natural light, and a handful of nude statues that were suspiciously free from dust. There were paintings too, impressionist landscapes and oil portraits of the same man, all recently cleaned. If this wing was forbidden, you wondered who would be brave enough to accept the position of shining, you squinted hard in the darkness, Count Copia’s things.

Legend was, Count Copia was the one who had converted the other side of the castle to an abbey to prove his devotion to the church. No one could say when or why this had really happened and the few times you’d tried to ask, you’d been shut down quickly. But the Sisters were quick to share their stories behind the clergy’s back. You heard several tales about the Count, most notably that the Count was once a holy man, a story that was often whispered in the dark while the Sister were supposed to be sleeping. If he was, you’d never seen his devotion on display during mass.

It's not like he would’ve been hard to spot.

There was other less friendly talk about Sisters who had misbehaved or ventured too close to the East Wing and vanished without a trace. A whole host of ghost stories meant to keep you obedient. If a Sister happened to be shuffled around to another convent? Well, that was just the cover up. If a Sister fell ill or failed to return from town? Another victim of the Count.

Sometimes it happened too quickly, and the speculation overruled the facts. Had she seen the Count? Did he make her disappear? It was the hot gossip when you’d arrived. Whoever had moved on from the castle and made room for you was surely as good as dead. You never believed one way or the other.

Whatever the Count was doing was his own business. Until now, you hadn’t really considered him to be real at all.

In your search for the library, you’d come across a massive stone staircase curving up the belly of a turret. It beckoned you upstairs, growing darker with every turn. What was another dare to you anyway? Heavy rain pelted the windows that framed the grand staircase, the sound covering your footfalls as you moved up. Your feet made quick work of the stairs, finding taking them two at a time to be much easier to navigate as you propelled yourself forward into the uncharted parts of the castle.

You swept the flashlight over the landing, trying to inspect which direction might lead toward a library. The castle did not give up its secrets so easily and you were forced to charge ahead. Halfway down the hall, your light caught a massive set of double doors—twice your height and intricately carved. The doors were heavy, groaning loudly as you pushed through them.

The smell of dust, paper, and old leather hit you hard as you stepped inside. You – 1, Debra – 0.

Unlike the other rooms, it looked like no one had been in the library in years. Well stocked shelves line nearly every stretch of the layout, but every surface was coated in thick dust and cobwebs. You pulled the collar of your t-shirt over your face like a makeshift mask and pointed your flashlight into the room.

This was it. All you had to do was grab the first available book you could find, make a mad dash back to the dorms, and Debra would be forced to shut the fuck up for the rest of the night. You were unsure if the prize was worth the risk, but you’d come this far.

You quickly scanned the room, waving your flashlight over the surfaces once more. There, next to what appeared to be a full suit of armor holding a sword, sat a small table. Atop the table was a leatherbound volume on top just waiting to be snatched up. You crept forward, flashes of lightning reaching areas of the room that your flashlight couldn’t. With your fingers outstretched you reached for the book.

A crack of thunder ripped through the castle, violently shaking the leaded windows of the library. But it wasn’t the thunder that made you yelp and fling yourself backward. You collided with the knight, the back of your hand splitting open as it connected with the sword. Your flashlight went the other direction, flipping uselessly through the air until it landed across the room and exploded on impact. Fuck. Blood began beading to the surface of your fresh cut as a small, brown rat squeaked at you from the table.

You climbed back to your feet and shooed the rat away, shaking your head at your own ridiculousness. It dove off the table with another adorable squeak, its little legs carrying it away faster than you thought possible. Now unguarded, you fetched the book from the table and squinted in the darkness to find the exit.

A streak of lightning burned across the sky, illuminating the room enough to make out the doorway and the odd shape shadowed beneath it. Was someone standing there? Had you hit your head? Surely your eyes were just playing tricks on you. First the rat and now a phantom? The storm was really starting to fuck with you.

You shifted to your left; arm outstretched as you felt for the cold stone of the castle walls. It was too dark to see more than a couple of inches, but maybe you could feel your way back to where you’d seen the door.

Another bolt sparked across the sky and this time you knew you’d seen someone. Your stomach sank as your heart jumped into your throat. No one was supposed to be in the East Wing, least of all you, but you didn’t think anyone else would be here. A smaller flash revealed the shape of a man, closer now.

You swallowed hard. This was not good.

Your eyes struggled to adjust to the near constant pulse of lightning happening around you, but you knew he couldn’t be anyone else. The Count began to shift between the bursts of light, moving in a haunting, almost undetectable way. You broke into a run, heading in the direction of the double doors. You didn’t want to tackle an old man, but you would if you had to.

He let you run past him, not bothering to try to stop you as you bolted past and spilled into the hall. You were sure you could outrun him, legs and lungs burning as you went, but you could hear the tap of his behind you with every slow step he took. His pace didn’t change—that the tap, tap, tap was almost relentlessly steady—but somehow, he was now in front of you.

You failed to stop in time, your head bouncing off the Count’s chest like he was made of stone. The book landed with a heavy thud at his feet as you tumbled backward. He stepped over it, unnoticed as he advanced on you.

“Are you trying to steal from me?” his voice low, accent thick. “That’s not very nice, dolce.”

“No, I—uh—” you fumbled through the words, scrambling backward as you tried to climb to your feet. Your hands clawed at the floor, finding no purchase in the hardwood to raise yourself up. Even if you could, he’d be right back on top of you. In the darkness of the hallway, you could still catch his eyes fixed on you—one burning stark white against the shadows. “I—”

“You—you—you,” he mocked as he leaned over you, the cane slamming down near your hand. “What was so important to you, hmm? What have you come to try to take from me?”

“I didn’t—I wasn’t—ah!” Before you could begin to argue, his fists closed around your collar. He hauled you up roughly and set you against the wall like you were nothing. What the fuck?

He flashed you a smile that was completely devoid of kindness as he pinned you against the wall with the end of his cane. He held you there as he leaned down and plucked the book from the floor. “German Folktales, dolce?” he asked, voice thick with disbelief. “Is that really why you snuck all the way up here?”

“Please,” you pleaded, writhing under the cane. “I won’t—”

“But you did, cara,” he teased, his voice low as he traced a gloved finger over your jaw. “The proof is right here, I’m afraid.”

“Please, I wasn’t stealing,” you finally explained, a single tear rolling down your cheek. If you made it out of this, you swore were going to kill Sister Debra yourself. “It was just a stupid dare.”

He leaned in closer, his lips near the shell of your ear. “A dare? This is a game to you, dolce?”

The castle shuddered around you as the power blinked back to life. One by one, the lightbulbs in the sconces lining the hall flickered, illuminating The Count in a strange, dim glow. You were finally able to get a good look at the man who had caught you in his castle. He wasn’t unlike his portrait, his features sharp and handsome. His face was framed by carefully carved sideburns and a meticulously tamed mustache, but his hair was slightly out of place and his skin was much paler than the portrait’s. He boldly highlighted his eyes by smearing thick dark circles around them, making the white even more noticeable.

He was dressed in a black suit, each piece tightly fitted to perfectly hug the curve of his body. A thick, black velvet cape rested over his square shoulders, fastened together by an elegant bat shaped brooch of diamonds and rubies housed in white gold. He certainly dressed like a Count, from which century was debatable.

He slowly lowered the cane, its handle catching slightly on the collar he’d stretched out by tossing you around. Another smile was offered, a flash of sharp white teeth as he drank you in.

“Cat got your tongue, dolce?” he purred. “You were so brave before.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way his words cut right through you. “I—"

“Oh, dolce,” he whispered before he slid away from you. “I’m Count Copia,” he said as he took your hand and dipped into a little bow. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. He looked up, eyes connecting with yours as he tasted blood in his kiss. “Dolce, you’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing. I just fell—oh!”

His tongue darted out, carefully swiping over the cut on your hand. The Count let your blood flow over it, red smearing over pink as he hungrily licked it back into his mouth. You brain began to short circuit, vision going fuzzy as he lathed over your wound a second time, torturously slow as he savored each drop. As he drew his tongue back into his mouth, his eyes rolled back in his head and the sound that left him was obscene. A low, guttural moan rose from his chest, so lascivious you were sure it had to be the same noise he made while finishing himself off. As scared as you were, that sound went right through you, stoking a fire between your legs.

He smiled at the small whimper you made, a subtle softness blooming behind his eyes as they locked on yours. It betrayed the sharp edge of his teeth. “Enjoy the book, dolce.”

(part two) (part three)

There is still hope. Say it out loud. Palestine will be free. The Palestinian people will celebrate their culture and heritage with each other. We will love and be loved. Do not fall into the trap of despair.

Since I can’t sleep I’ll just share this adorable Secondo video I ran across on HourlySecondo on X:

I want to have him reach out to hold my hand comfortingly. Why can’t I have that? Is no fair. He is so sweet, he even forgets his English a little, here. Non si preoccupi, Papa, lei ed io ci capiremmo molto bene, le assicuro 🤍

As a child, I was always searching for the meaning of it all, the big Why; and my father always said that there is no one big purpose but I had the most ripe orange today and kissed my cat goodnight, I think that's enough purpose for a day.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

Smudged Mirrors

|| Tl;dr Morning routine softness with Secondo. :) This is just an older work from my ao3 that I thought I would bring over here!

There are many terrible things in this world. The shrill blare of an alarm clock ripping you from your dreams among the worst offenders. Waking to find that the bed has already gone empty and cold, another. The entire room felt quiet and solemn as if it too was mourning the absence of your beloved. The thick blankets quickly grew too cold to be comfortable any longer and remnants of sleep still clung to your senses as you slowly sat up with a renewed dedication to seek out a new source of warmth.

The scent of spiced soap and a lingering mist from the shower wafted through the partially open bathroom door, a testament to Secondo’s stubborn refusal to sleep in on nearly any day. It was a gentle reminder of the countless mornings when you had woken up together, the sound of falling water mingling with laughter and shared tenderness.

After attempting to gather your thoughts, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and made your way towards the bathroom, the rhythmic sound of falling water growing louder with each step. The antique wooden wardrobe looked untouched as you passed by it. You paused to pull out Secondo’s Papal robes and the cassock he often preferred to wear underneath before folding them neatly on the bed and continuing on. Upon pushing the door open, you were met with the sight of steam billowing around the room, cloaking the space in a misty haze.

“I may be aging but I’m not deaf yet. I can still hear your attempts to sneak up on me, amore mio.” Even with his back turned towards you, you could hear the smirk in his voice despite his stern tone. Water droplets still dribbled over his skin as he moved while the steam swirled around him, seemingly dancing in tune with a silent melody.

“I would’ve thought all those concerts would’ve done you in.”

Secondo paid no mind to your witty comment, instead continuing on as if he hadn’t been interrupted at all.

“Were you sleeping well? You didn’t budge when I got up.”

“I was. That is until I was left alone in the arctic cold of silk sheets.” Your retort came with maybe a little more sass than necessary as you lifted yourself to sit on the counter.

Secondo hummed softly, the deep rumble building in his chest as he leaned over to thread his fingers through your messy bed head.

“Hmmm. I suspect you’ll survive, you appear plenty lively to me.” His words were muffled against your hair as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. For once you decided to remain quiet when you felt him smile against you.

After a few silent minutes, Secondo pulled away to return to his routine and you quickly grew bored. You twisted around, leaning in closer to the water covered mirror and reached a hand out to draw a shape against its reflective surface. Only after you had placed your initials next to a small heart were you interrupted.

“Those stay there, you know. Smudges, after the fog is gone.” He grumbled softly before swiping a razor against his cheek once more. His eyes only flickered to you before refocusing on the task of shaving. The dedication to precision and attention to detail were always present, even in the simplest of moments. A roll of your eyes was the only reaction you gave in to. Secondo had always been much more of a perfectionist, although it was admittedly respectable.

Pulling back from the mirror, you gracefully slipped off your perch on the counter and moved closer to him, pressing a kiss against each freshly shaven cheek. The morning routine had become a dance between the two of you, a choreography of sweet gestures and affectionate exchanges.

“Are you absolutely sure you need to go to work? And so early?” It was the same familiar question you asked him at least once a week, and that tiny sliver of hope in your voice that the ever so serious older man would take off work remained every time.

“Si, I am entirely sure. Has my answer ever changed?” Secondo’s unfaltering response only prompts you to lean back against his shoulder and clasp your hands to your chest, feigning being fatally wounded. There is a sigh at your dramatics, a kiss pressed against your temple before being waved off once more.

“You have your own work to attend to, piantagrane. Go.” You finally accepted being shooed off after a few more lingering kisses, good byes murmured softly in each other's ears before leaving the former Papa be to finish getting ready for the day yourself.

By the time you had returned to the bathroom with the intention of using up all the remaining hot water for yourself, Secondo was gone from the room. As to be expected, but still disappointing. While setting your own towels down atop the granite counter, you couldn’t help but to glance back at the small smears you had earlier left along the surface of the mirror. Papa was right, the fog had dissipated and left behind streaks of smudging. Except now it was impossible to ignore the small, cursive initials ‘S.E’ that had appeared opposite of your own.

“Copia, would you save me if I was kidnapped by ghosts?”

All is quiet in the bedroom for several seconds, the question hanging in the air before Copia rolls over, his eyes bleary from sleep as he looks at you.

“Eh…what?” His tired face screws up in confusion. “Why are ghosts kidnapping you?”

“Don’t think too much into it, just answer the question.”

Copia has the good nature to look amused by your early, early morning question, his arms wrapping around you to pull you across the mattress, squeezing you to him like a teddy bear as he rests his cheek just above yours.

“Mmm, I would be very sad, amore,” he mumbles, closing his eyes as he nuzzles sweetly into your skin. “Very angry that ghosts took you from me.”

“So what would you do?” His sweet embrace is rapidly drawing you back to sleep, your voice soft.

“Ah, la risposta è semplice. I would summon an entire demonic army to save you and deliver the ghosts unto Satan,” Copia heaves a sleepy sigh, his voice growing quieter. “Their souls would burn in the pit in eternal hellfire.”

You stir and twist in his embrace to look at him. “Wait, you can do that?”

Copia hooks a leg around yours and readjusts you, his body like a weighted blanket to calm your racing little mind. He drags the covers firmly over you both. “Go to sleep, amore.”

You fall into silence for several seconds.

“I love you, Copia.”

A lingering kiss to your forehead, a soothing thumb across your brow. “And I love you, so very much,” he says.

i am SO normal about them