#Copia X oc

[lilspacewolfie]

Remedy || Copia x f!oc

Content: 1.9k words, softness, mostly SFW, slightly suggestive themes and semi-naked cuddling. Note: oc is non-binary & uses she/they.

The weight of a body dipping the mattress by her hip rouses her from her dozing. Then there’s the pleasant heat of breath that smells of wine, and the brushing of soft lips pressing to her temple. 

“You haven’t moved since I left this afternoon, amore. Have you been curled up here all day without me?” Copia whispers against her skin, pressing another gentle kiss to her cheek, a hand brace on the plush pillow by her head. 

She hums, pained. 

“My baby…��� he presses another kiss. “What's wrong?”

All she can do is grumble a low, throaty hum full of irritation and pain that is not directed at him. “Headache…” she mumbles. Shifting beneath the grey cotton duvet of his bed, she stretches out lazily, curling into the fetal position again to preserve the precious warmth. 

One of Copia’s bare hands fits against the back of her head, cradling the loose crimson waves. He strokes long fingers down her nape, following the slope of her naked shoulder. His hands are large and soft, pleasantly balmy from being tucked into his leather gloves all day. It’s almost enough to put her back into her stasis. 

“That’s not good,” Copia tuts a quiet, affectionate noise and says something low in Italian that she doesn’t quite catch, but it makes her feel light and floaty all the same. 

Turning her head heavily against the pillow, she pries her eyes open to squint at him. The room is dimly lit, a cool breeze dancing in the curtains pulled across the windows and door to the balcony that keeps out the full glare of the sun. The ruby jewels pinned to his fine black suit gleam in the slivers of light, and he’s still got the paint around his eyes, too, though the line of his upper lip is smudged. She knows exactly where the evidence is stamped. He is distressingly attractive in his suit, and she curses the bane of this day-long migraine for sapping the energy she wishes she desire to meet him with. 

Copia strokes up her neck again, cupping her cheek as he runs his thumb around the shell of her ear, seeming to sense her irritation. “Il mio povero bambino,” He pouts, the expression depressing the lines across his handsome face. 

Huffing, she slides a hand out from where it’s tucked beneath her chin, reaching up to touch his cheek. Heat ripples through her when he leans in to meet her halfway. Sometimes she forgets how lucky she is, and other times, he reminds her in the simplest ways. She gravitates to him like a magnet, the pull too good to ignore, and when he looks as devilishly handsome as he does now, it’s even more difficult to focus. She is the moon orbiting the sun.

“Il vaso della Morte, distrutto da un mal di testa,” he teases, kissing the sole of her palm, leaving another black stamp.

“Ugh… shut up,” she groans, dropping her hand, cheeks flushing as she buries her face against the pillows that smell like his smoky conditioner. “‘M still human…”

Copia laughs, a low husky sound that vibrates in his chest, and oh, how she loves that sound. He leans down and crowds close to her again, peppering kisses along her bare shoulder and cheek, purposely pressing his weight atop her as he noses at her collarbone. He’s warm, so damn pleasing and pliant and Satanas she’s missed him today. She manages to wriggle her arms out from beneath him, the silk slip of his shirt sliding along naked flesh, and she hums, pulling him close so she can bury in the side of his throat where he smells of mandarin and lavender. 

“Has my love eaten today?” Copia asks, kissing the spot beneath her ear. 

She shakes her head lazily, cringing when she feels the face he makes against her shoulder. “I haven’t had the energy… bad, I know…”

“Painkillers?”

“Hmm, not since this morning after you left.”

Copia tuts again, playfully, shaking his head. He kisses her one last time before reluctantly sliding from her arms, off the bed, and she watches him exit the room. 

The muffled sounds of pots and utensils being used echo down the hall moments later, followed by the smell of something cooking. Nuzzling further into the bed, her heart twirls in her chest, skipping like a baby child. It’s not the first time she’s been in this situation, nor the first time that Copia has cooked for her even after a long day. But it is always appreciated when she can’t see much of what’s immediately in front of her. He’s too good for her, far too good.

About fifteen minutes later, Copia returns, now lacking his jacket that is slung over his elbow, and he’s got the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up, giving her a pleasing view. She can’t help when her eyes linger on his freckled forearms, admiring the dusting of hair that catches in the backlight when he sets a glass of water and two white tablets on the bedside before draping his jacket on the small chair by the bed. 

Heaving herself up, the duvet falls from her naked chest as she stretches. Pressing her palms against the back of her neck and scratching gently with dark nails, as if doing so might rid her of the niggling annoyance that’s burning throughout her skull. She rolls her neck, trying to knead out the ache with little success and reaches for the tablets and water. Popping the pills into her mouth, she sips at the water. 

Copia looks at her, mismatched eyes trailing over pale skin. She doesn’t miss the hint of a smile and inclines toward him as he curls a finger beneath her chin. 

“Swallow,” he tells her. 

She does, holding his intense gaze through her half-lids, smiling lazily. The water cools her parched throat, and she hums, her eyes slipping closed when Copia leans down and kisses her forehead. 

“Someone’s in a certain mood,” she hums with a soft intensity. 

Copia scoffs lightly, leaving her unable to ignore the smug grin on his face. “My moods can wait,” he soothes before he leaves again. 

He vanishes for but a moment, returning with a bowl of something on a small bronze tray. 

“Pastina?” She asks, perking up despite the rolling nausea that isn’t only caused by the headache. What an idiot for not eating. 

“There is no better cure,” he offers the tray and sets it in her lap. “It’s exactly what my baby needs, sì?”

The broth is warm, and the sprinkling of parmesan adds a pleasing nuttiness when she takes a bite and sips on the broth. After a few mouthfuls of the tiny stelline, the nausea is far less intense, and she feels considerably more alive unsurprisingly. She can feel the energy returning slowly and sluggishly, chasing off the roiling sickness. 

“Thank you, darling. How was the meeting?” She asks when Copia sits comfortably beside her, leaning down to unbuckle his Italian leather shoes. 

She watches the crease deepen between his brows, and he shakes his head. 

“It was, uh, fine… I guess.”

“Did you speak to him?” She asks despite already knowing the answer. 

Copia shakes his head, and she sighs, not out of irritation, but there is a tiny hint of disappointment that makes itself known. 

“You can’t avoid him forever, darling,” she tells him gently, swallowing another mouthful. 

Copia makes a noise of annoyance, something deeply like a growl. “But he’s…”

“What? Your brother? The one who needs your guidance the most right now?”

Waving a hand dismissively, Copia fiddles with his shirt sleeve, rolling and unrolling it again, then starts on the buttons at his throat. 

When he doesn’t answer, instead rising from the bed to remove his shirt, she huffs. It’s hard to stay even a little irked when she gets a wonderful view of his broad back. She remembers when he was a cardinal, how his frame was similar and equally as pleasing then as he is now, all filled out, freckled and soft around the hips and tummy. 

“Darling, I’m serious…”

Copia remains silent and brooding until she’s finished and the tray is back on the bedside table. 

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” Copia mutters in annoyance, sitting back on the bed, looking at her with soulful eyes. “Not when you’re not feeling—“

“I’m fine. I promise,” she wraps an arm up around his neck, scratching her nails lightly against his nape. “I don’t like bringing it up, but you know you need to speak with him sooner or later.”

Dropping his mouth to the inside of her elbow, Copia kisses the delicate skin and nods solemnly. 

“Thank you for this, I needed it,” she says. “And if it’s any consolation, I think it was a valid tantrum if I’ve ever seen one.”

The small scowl on Copia’s features deepens, and he looks at her, eyes darkening just a touch. “You think I’m throwing a tantrum?”

She shakes her head, touching his cheek and stroking her thumb across the high points, eyes scanning his features. He looks so tired, so defeated, annoyed and tender, yet she can’t blame him for any of it. 

“Well, I’d be insufferable about it too,” she admits. “I mean, the only thing that's insufferable right now is my headache.”

“And my love for you?” Copia leans in, leading her arms to curve over his shoulders, speaking with that smarmy, sappy tone that makes her belly coil with desire. 

Threading her fingers through his silky hair, she claws lightly along his scalp, enjoying the way he shivers and his eyes flutter. 

She rolls her eyes and lets her head fall limp dramatically in his cradling hands. “Yes, it’s a tragedy in itself, really.” 

Copia slides his bare hands up the curve of her back, gathering her close. “Is my piccolo lupo feeling affectionate today?” 

She nuzzles deeper into his naked sternum, practically smushing into his skin and willing herself inside the space of his ribs. The sensation of being skin to skin always makes her tingle and press closer when it isn’t a source of overstimulation. There is something so vulnerable about being laid bare, but Copia has never judged or pushed, only doted and praised. Now she seeks it, wants to be close and smothered by his affections as if that could cure the ache of this damned migraine. 

He’s plush, like one of those stuffed teddies with the softest of fur, and the dusting of dark hair over his chest and belly tickles her cheek as she breathes him in deeply, content to stay right here and listen to the sound of his breathing. 

“Join me for a bath, amore? We can talk more later, hm?” 

“Uh, maybe not a bath,” she spreads her fingers through the hair on his sternum, tracing the patterns of the tattoo over his heart. “Might make my headache worse.”

“Ah, sì,” he drops an apologetic kiss to the crown of her head as he lapses into thought. Eventually, he offers, “A shower, then?” 

“Yeah, but… just give me another moment to enjoy this,” she turns her face into his skin, wrapping tighter around him like a snake. 

Copia laughs, the sound warm and breathy and lets himself fall back against the lush bedding and closes his eyes, stroking a hand up and down the line of her spine. 

“Maybe we should invite him for dinner?”

Copia snorts, but he doesn’t immediately shoot the idea down like she worries. Instead, he nods, content to lie there for a while, basking in the glow of shared body heat.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

[snake-seeds]

MORE SHIPPING FODDER FOR MEEE!!

Look at how cute they are, awwwwwww! I love them dearly!

I was originally going to shade this one, but I decided I really like how flat colours look like for this drawing.

[deudamnatus]

I’ve been listening to Rats on damn loop since the last week so I drew Claude and Cardi singing to the lyrics,

and now I’ve just noticed today is the videoclip’s anniversary and the coincidence just made me happy!

[kabukiaku]

latest batch of kofi commissions! thank you all for your continued support 🖤✨

[writingjourney]

keys // frater imperator

f!reader/non-descript f!oc, 500 words

His body feels leaden, like he’s aged ten years in the span of a day. Copia drags himself along the corridor, his new keys jangling with every step. He’s not sure what weighs heavier, the responsibility that comes with them or the loss that still haunts him around every corner. He’d almost prefer if none of them fit, if he could just step back outside, don his sparkling jacket and get back on stage.

The metal has warmed between his gloved fingers and yet he can’t shake the sense of cold that permeates him ever since he picked them up off the floor. They fit into the hole, turn just like they’re supposed to. Then he hears the steps behind him.

“Copia.”

At the sound of her voice his heart shatters and puts itself together all at once. She approaches cautiously, that look on her face he’s been dreading. Commiseration. Well, he is not Papa any longer. He has no good excuse to avoid her.

“Sorella,” he says.

Her brow furrows. “Are we back to formalities, now?”

He aches all over. For her, for his Papacy, for his mother, despite her flaws, for his life to go back to the way it was. Hovering between colleagues, friends, lovers. Some emotion he never dared to name. They’re close, he can’t deny it, and yet he always used the Papacy to keep her at arm’s length, lest he had to confront all the ways in which he’d fail her.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

Her hand hovers, slightly raised, like she’s not sure whether she’s allowed to reach out or not. They’ve touched before, many times, mostly innocently, or perhaps not so innocently when he thinks about those quiet nights alone in his room. He’d almost kissed her just before he left for tour, the very thought of a long separation more than he was willing to bear, but then he’d chickened out, kissed her cheek instead. What good would it have done? He was gone for months.

“I have missed you too,” he admits, thinking about the key in the lock. He wonders, then, what other doors it might open.

She touches his arm, at last, and he can’t even feel it through the thick fabric of his new suit jacket. Fuck this, he thinks, fuck all of it. But then she steps closer and he can feel the pull, the whole world tightening around them. He caves, grabs her by the hips and pulls her into a hug. It’s crushing, he knows this, she winces a little before she returns the embrace, soft arms, gentle arms. Always so gentle for him.

“Amore,” he says. It is the only fitting name. Of course he does not want to go back to formalities.

“Copia–” Her voice trails off as she understands. He thinks he hears the tears in her next breath.

It is a brave step, to change the nature of such a secure thing. He’s never had time, that’s what he tells himself. Not the time she deserves anyway. But now–

Perhaps now.

Yes, he can turn the key on that door as well.

short fic collection // masterlist

[saintjezebel483]

"His eyes were alluring, though his features and soft wrinkles on his forehead and face showed his age. Yet, you could still see that he was quite charming and attractive. He had an unconventional allure, but a subjective attractiveness nonetheless."

[can-of-pringles]

There's this girl on tiktok who is from Italy but she lives in the US and she makes slideshows talking about her favorite US food, and idk why but this one part just screamed Copia to me so I made a silly edit with the sound. Oh and Silas is there because I have to fit my oc in somehow.

[leezlelatch]

Ollie sits cross-legged on her bed, carefully studying the text of the old book the Cardinal lent her. Il Velo e l’Ombra. The Veil and the Shadow. "It's dense," he had said, and that was an understatement. The pages feel stiff, crinkling whenever she turns the page. Dark yellow edges gradually transition to bone white closer to the spine. Each page contains heavy type-set in columns that slightly angle down like the printing press wasn't calibrated the day this book was printed. It smells like old paper and something faintly herbal, and she imagines it new, sitting on the desk of an old occultist, brewing a concoction nearby.

But it doesn't have any spells or craft in it. She thinks.

She taps her pen against her notebook, frowning at the Latin passage in the next paragraph, and then frowning at her phone. It didn't make sense. Trusting Google Translate is never recommended, but...

Ollie glances at the clock. It's only a little after 8, and the Cardinal said it was okay to contact him, right? She hesitates. Now that she's actually thinking about contacting him, she feels a little nervous. He was kind during class, smarter than she thought the other students gave him credit for, but the way that white eye landed on her. The slice of black through his iris that served as a pupil. It made her shiver.

After a few more moments of hesitation, she inhales sharply and grabs her phone.

Ollie: Hello, Cardinal! I'm so sorry to bother you, but I was going through the book you recommended, and there's a Latin passage that isn't making much sense. Could you help me? I understand completely if you would prefer I wait until next class!

Her finger hovers over the send button, and she closes her eyes tight. Do it, do it, just do it. She presses her thumb down, and the message is off with a whoosh.

She watches with growing anxiety as the text bubble appears, then disappears, than reappears. And finally, her phone buzzes.

Copia: You are not a bother, signorina. Show me the passage?

The breath she was holding escapes in a sudden gush, and her shoulders relax. Okay, he's not mad. Good progress. She snaps a picture of the passage and sends it through.

Ollie: This part, especially the second half. It's not making much sense, and yes, I'm using Google Translate. 🫢

His response takes a little longer this time, and she imagines him flipping through his own books to make sure. Does he keep a Latin dictionary? Latin for Satanists, tucked into his bedside table.

Copia: Perhaps I will make you stay after class to write lines, eh? Ma sì, Google does not know the difference between ecclesiastical Latin and classical.

Copia: Spit, can I call you? The typing is too much.

Copia: I meant spit.

Copia: Spit.

Ollie's phone starts ringing. She went from blushing to laughing in the span of a second, and she picks up with a giggle still on her lips.

"Hello, Cardinal!" She says, her voice warm, whatever nerves she had gone after his typo disaster.

"I meant shit," he says, a growl in his voice. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "Telefono di merda..."

"I could tell," she says, her voice softening. Ollie pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Italian is gorgeous.

The Cardinal clears his throat, and she can hear a rustle as he shifts. "Anyway! Mi dispiace, signorina. You are finding that the book is just as I said? I hope it is not too dry."

"No, no. I'm enjoying it! I have a lot of notes that I may ask you about later. It's just the Latin."

"Ahh, sì, I see. What you have sent me...ehh...," he pauses, growing quiet for a moment. "I wrote it down, uh, I cannot get the texting back when we are talking. Quod in umbra latet, lumen revelabit. What lies in shadow will be revealed by the light."

"Ohh," Ollie says slowly, a snicker in her voice. "Oh god, I thought it said 'the shadow will hide the lamp.'"

Copia chuckles low in his throat, and her belly flutters. She holds the phone just a little tighter. "You have a good mind for this, I think," he says softly, and she may be imagining it, but his accent sounds thicker. "I look forward to seeing your notes."

Her voice is caught in her throat for a moment, and she's glad he can't see her face. She can't stop smiling. "Thank you so much, Cardinal. I'm excited for next class. I'll let you get back to your night."

"Mm, sì. But do not hesitate to ask if you get stuck again, eh? It is...nice. To be asked." He's quiet, thoughtful. Maybe a little sad, but...that could just be her imagination again.

"I will. Of course. Goodnight, Cardinal."

Copia stares at his phone for a long moment when the call ends, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

[themratts]

Valentine’s Day is around the corner 🥰

[enjoy-my-swearing]

I know I am inactive lately. Life got in the way. Again. But I still do draw small things, like this one!

A gift for @the-lisechen who writes wonderful Copia x OC fanfic. If you haven't checked their writing out yet then what are you doing? I cannot advertise enough how good and unique it is!

It's got everything! Pining! Slow Burn! Ecumenical dialogue! Traces of corruption, temptation and being a little bit fucked up about eachother! Smart people arguing!

You can find it on ao3 here: you found the ache in my argument

[lilspacewolfie]

Content: 650 words, Copia x f!oc, ghost chapter 20 related, softness with a sprinkle of angst, SFW though slightly suggestive at the end.

The room dims not because the sun is dipping behind a cloud, but because invisible hands shut the heavy, embroidered curtains and ornate door. 

“Amore?” 

Copia sounds as sad as he looks, eyes raised to the ceiling, calling for her. 

It pains her to see him so forlorn. 

She approaches from, gliding her hands over his shoulders, wrinkling his pressed black suit and leaning down to rest her cheek against his. The mousy strands of his hair are soft against her cheek, tickling her mouth, she turns to kiss the grey at his temple and leaves behind a black stamp. 

“What’s wrong, love?” She asks, even though she already knows what ails him. 

Copia sinks into the plush gold sofa and her embrace, moping like a waterlogged dog forgotten in the rain. 

“Fucking V,” he spits with what venom remains on his tonuge. He lifts his gloved hands from his lap, curling his fingers around her forearms and squeezing. 

“I know,” she soothes. 

“It should be me. I—”

“I know,” she says again, more firmly, because she knows what he’s like when he gets like this. “But you’re the boss now. I heard you.”

Copia huffs, tipping his head back and closing his eyes so he can rest his head against her shoulder for a while. 

Eventually, she pulls back, slipping from his grasp and rounds the sofa to sit beside him. He looks so worn out, disheartened and lost.

She lifts a hand to touch his cheek, and Copia leans into the calming warmth. Her thumb glides over the high point of his cheek, smoothing across the wrinkles at his eyes and stress lines mapped in his skin. He’s radiant, even if he doesn’t see it, especially in moments like this. She will always remind him, just as he does for her. 

His once pristine yet simple makeup is now smudged, dragged down his cheek under his left eye, and there is a smeared stamp on his bottom lip. She chuckles a little at that, causing Copia to open his eyes. They are glistening, watery. Her face softens. 

“Do you want me to stay for a while?” 

Copia nods, exhausted. “Please.” 

When she nods, reaching for him, Copia wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his side. Gloved hands rise to cup her face tenderly, and spreading his fingers into the short waves of her bright red hair, he kisses her softly. 

He helps her unbutton her suit jacket, shrugging it from her shoulders and then drape it over the arm of the gilded sofa. She does the same for him, releasing the button and gently prying the ruby pins from his lapels—removing the weight of responsibility for a while and setting it carefully on the makeshift table he calls a desk. 

They shift until comfortable, Copia between her thighs—smart suits be damned—until his head rests on her chest. It’s a little awkward given the size of the sofa, but neither cares. She strokes her fingers through his silky hair, his breath tickling her collarbone. His weight increases as he relaxes into the embrace, arms tucked around her waist and face hidden against her throat. The solid press of his body above hers is a welcome one when her own heart is skipping with shimmering anxiety. 

“Close your eyes for a bit, ok?” She mumbles against his hairline, kissing his forehead. 

Copia opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.

“No buts or I’ll start biting you.” Her fingers follow the line up and down his spine. 

The sigh he releases is one of contentment, and he chuckles. 

“But you know that’s my favourite pastime, amore.”

Her black-polished nails scratch lightly at his nape, and she squeezes her thighs around the soft swell of his waist when he pulls her tighter to him.

“Hm. Then note it down as something to look forward to for later, baby.”

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

[snake-seeds]

I love my self indulgent shipping fodder! I love it I love it!

This took me way too long to do for what the drawing is but oh well, I’m fighting art block and drawing my boy enzo sometimes helps. They’re married in my head I fear!

[deudamnatus]

It seems C is so eager to show everyone his man :)

Cardinal Claude ladies and gentlemen (srry this is the only piece I have from him because life is killing me).

[kabukiaku]

bunch of ko-fi commissions! 💜

[ninesposting]

More of Nora and Cardi, this time they got caught smooching on company time

ArtFight starts soon so I gotta get this stuff out of my system before I’ll be drawing other stuff for a month lol

[shxykesqueer]

Fox: Wow, you really hate the new guy, don’t you?

Copia: I can’t stand him! He’s awful! He’s abhorrent! I like the dirt on the bottom of my shoe more than him!

Fox: Do you think that maybe you’re acting angry and spiteful because you feel like he’s replaced you? And you know that that’s not his fault, but you want to put the blame on someone?

Copia: I-

Fox: And don’t you think that instead of acknowledging that he’s your brother, and accepting that he also grew up like you did- not knowing his family- and the fact that he probably looks up to you, you want to push him away? Because you’ve already lost family so soon after finding it and so it’s either him or the job? And you choose the job because if you don’t then it feels like your career was for nothing? Which you know isn’t true.

Copia:

Copia: But you hate him right?

Fox: Of course, anything for you dear! He’s despicable!

Copia: :)