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radioisntdead · 9 months ago

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Ways to piss off an Italian

Alternatively three ways to cartoonishly piss off an Italian

Hazbin hotel x reader [Platonic]

Warnings:

Italian stereotypes, just jokin' around this is all in good fun! I put an Imp OC of mine in as the reader assistant! She just pops in and out to stir things up! Reader's learning to cook other types of food because they've hadn't had to cook for themselves in ages they just had others do it. Ending is a little off but we don't talk about that I finished this at 6 am I need sleep, Angel isn't that pissed mostly dismayed

Good evening folks! This is a side story with Eldritch horror reader and Angel dust because he's Italian, this is somewhat inspired by my own bit of how my younger self made it her mission to piss off Italians because of that Italian TikTok duo back in 2020-2021 [???] She did not succeed as she did not know any Italians and all she did was eat spaghetti noodles with anything but a fork.

this is also the 100 followers special! Now at the time of posting we are FAR past that at 207! but better late then never! Thank you so much for the support, I genuinely did not think this many folks would like my silly little writings, I adore getting y'all's requests, comments, and just appearing in my inbox genuinely it makes my day thank you! And I hope you enjoy!

Angel Dust took great pride in his Italian heritage and culture, as he was truly Italian.

Unfortunately he lived with a centuries old Eldritch horror who may or may not have lived in Europe during the bubonic plague and didn't understand the more "modern'' Italian or Italy at all, and others that didn't understand the "sacredness" of the Italians.

🍝The spaghetti.🍝

You took over cooking in the hotel, you and Alastor had begun fighting over the kitchen, whoever got there first got to cook and today, you were victorious.

You were exploring new recipes you had thus far made spicy tteokbokki and Korean corn dogs, some type of curry that was sonic blue, teriyaki chicken, hummus and other things! You experimented with different flavors, seasonings,

These tasty things would've ended you if you ate it back when you were alive and not dying of the bubonic plague.

Anyways, you decided to give making spaghetti a try because you were in the mood for something fairly easy to make.

As you perused the recipe book while humming along to the songs playing from Alastor's radio show, you nodded noting down the ingredients before pulling out the phone that the little Imp that worked for you had bought you insisting you should have one to contact her instead of hunting her down at random and dragging her away.

You squinted as you scrolled through the few contacts you had until you reached said imp's phone number and slowly texted her a barrage of ingredients to buy.

Cece carefully opened the hotel doors and skittered over to the kitchen, having memorized the route since she delivered ingredients to you almost daily at this point.

You grinned as you took the ingredients from Cece's hands turning around to place them on the counter while she pulled up a chair and sat down waiting for the inevitable "Dear Cece can you cut this" or "Dear Cece can you stir this"

You washed off the tomatoes before slicing in an x and blanching them, you peeled the tomatoes after and diced them up before putting them aside to cut up yellow onions, you gathered them up and placed them into a pan, sprinkling in salt to unleashed the onion liquids and sweetness.

You added in some prechopped garlic and let it saute.

While that was happening you took the tomatoes and crushed them, once done you combined the tomatoes with the rest letting it simmer.

You added other components like herbs, basil and a little olive old at the end just for fun.

You filled up another pot with water to boil, sprinkling a twinge of salt and stirring it in.

You brushed your hands on your apron, as you scooted around to find the box of spaghetti noodles, grinning you opened it and take out the pasta.

It was at this unfortunate moment Angel dust decided to waltz on into the kitchen, intending to see what was for dinner and maybe snag something to munch on, you held the dry pasta over the pot, both hands gripping the ends

"Hey tentacles, what's for- WHAT THE FUCK!''

"Good evening Dearest Angel! I'm making spaghetti!"

You said unfazed as the pasta snapped in half and dropped into the pot as Angel dust watched in pure horror.

"Why would you do that?!" Angel asked, his voice pitched as he asked arms gesturing to the pot of sad broken pasta boiling away.

"Make spaghetti? I didn't think it was such a controversial meal"

"No! You broke the pasta! That's like the biggest sin ya can do! What is wrong with ya?"

"We're already in hell, I don't think sins matter much here," Cece popped in, you jumped slightly forgetting the imp was there.

"They do when it comes to' fuckin' pasta toots!"

Angel dust shouted before promptly turning around and leaving the kitchen, leaving you completely confused and Cece amused, unfortunately her amusement turned into irritation as you asked her to grab the ground beef and roll it into balls so you could cook them because meatballs.

During dinner time your spaghetti was a hit!

Charlie complimented your cooking saying you outdid yourself while Vaggie was grabbing a second serving, Sir Pentious enjoyed slurping up the noodles, Niffty kept stabbing the meatballs foe whatever reason, Husk seemed to enjoy the meal however Angel dust had one pair of arms crossed while he reluctantly ate, it was good he could admit but he knew the sin that you had committed while cooking, he knew that innocent pasta had been broken.

Angel dust almost died a second time when he walked into the kitchen later that night for a midnight snack and witnessed a probably drunk Husk eating leftover spaghetti pasta with ketchup because the sauce you had made was on a higher shelf in the refrigerator and he didn't feel like climbing.

🍕 pineapple pizza time.🍕

You and Alastor had... For lack of better words got into a little fight over the kitchen, tentacles, shadows, mild mind control and other things were used until Vaggie stepped in and separated the two of you,

It was decided that pizza would be ordered for the hotel, much to Alastor's disapproval.

Cheese, pepperoni, pineapple and ham, and supreme were the pizzas ordered unbeknownst to Angel dust since he was coming back to the hotel from a hangout with Cherri.

"Angel! Welcome back we ordered pizza!" Charlie said waving the spider over as Vaggie placed the pizza boxes onto the table.

"Great! I'm starvin'!" Angel walked over just in time to see the box containing pineapple pizza opened up.

"Nevermind I'll starve."

"We have other pizzas Angel."

Vaggie did not get paid enough to deal with this, she didn't even get paid!

Angel dust was extremely disappointed in you, you were the one to suggest getting pineapple pizza because you quote, "Never had it before and wanted to try it",

You were well over a few centuries old, you weren't a child, you had gone to hell and become an overlord that rained terror for a couple of years and therefore you should've been able to tell that pineapple on pizza was a crime against humanity, so what if pizza wasn't a thing during your time, it was a thing that came to be while you were down here!

He had later lectured you about it, it was amusing to you! You were a feared overlord and yet this little Italian guy had the gull to lecture you, this was normal in families right? To not be afraid of each other? How wonderful!

The lecture eventually switched over to Husk who was eating pizzas folded which was just weird because he was just tasting the crust! What about the cheese? The sauce? THE SAUCE HUSK? DO YOU NOT TASTE IT?

Husk was too sober for the lecture, Alastor found it amusing though.

🇮🇹Italian PowerPoint presentation 🇮🇹

"Alright tentacles, we're havin' a intervention!" Angel dust said throwing his hands down on the coffee table as you sipped something from a teacup, probably tea.

"Is what you dragged us here for? This shit?"

Husk was here, how did he always get dragged into these things? Niffty was beside him trying to stab a roach, Charlie and Vaggie were out of the hotel, Alastor was hell knew where, probably doing radio stuff and Angel dust had somehow tracked down your assistant and dragged her there.

"Oh! Whatever for dearie?" You asked head tilted as you placed your cup on the table,

"You've committed so many fuckin' crimes in the past week! Ya' broke the pasta before puttin' it in the pot! Ya' put cream in the carbonara! Ya ate pineapple on pizza, I get we're in hell but are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?-" Angel moved his arms around to empathize his point "Not to mention that little fusion stunt, ya' deranged octopus!"

You hummed thinking about the meals you've made recently before responding, "I don't think I made anything bad?"

"You decided to put tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni on cooked ramen and stuck it in da' oven and ate it."

"It wasn't as good as the little people on the interwebs said."

"OF COURSE IT WASN'T GOOD IT WAS A CRIME! IT CAME OUT OF THE DEEPS OF HELL."

"Eh, it wasn't that bad" Cece popped in to stir the pot, Angel slowly turned around becoming slightly more spidery

"The fuck did ya just say?"

Cece shrugged, "Food's expensive and I need to eat."

Cece was picked up and thrown on the couch with you as Angel dust set up a PowerPoint presentation about the history of Italian food and whatever else, You did not want to be here you'd rather be drinking your drink in peace, Husk didn't want to be here he'd rather be drinking, your hellborn imp assistant didn't want to be here, she's never going to Italy she didn't need to know this and Niffty, well she's still stabbing things on the floor.

By the time Charlie and Vaggie returned you had zoned out completely and your mind was elsewhere, Niffty was napping on your shoulder, Cece had escaped by asking Angel if garlic bread was Italian and while he went on that tangent she ran out abandoning everyone.

Husk was more dead inside then per usual, he wasn't paid enough for this, the first hour was fine but this had been going on for five hours at this point, how did Angel dust manage to drag this PowerPoint presentation out so long?

Vaggie shut it down after it was realized that you weren't responding and they thought you had somehow died,

You did not die and you eventually snapped out of it when a white cloth was put over you in order to hide the body.

Good evening folks! Thank you for turning on in! I hope you enjoyed, my apologies for taking forever to get this out, if your wondering why it feels like there's a missing gap that's because I wrote a whole lil' thing of reader and Alastor combining forces to annoy Angel and I accidentally deleted it.

I'm gonna rewrite it eventually and add it to a different fic with Eldritch horror reader, also If your wondering why I have an imp OC in here there is a reason with Eldritch horror and their family complex you'll see eventually

I'll be getting the readers backstory which will be the 200 follower special out [hopefully] soon so tune on in for that! Thank you again have a wonderful day!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #angel dust & reader #angel dust x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago

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Cold Blood - Coriolanus Snow x assassin!Reader

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

***Third person POV + Can be read as either "x reader" or "x OC", just as long as you have fun babes. Thinking about making this like a loose series? idk

SUMMARY: Coriolanus thought that arranging Basil Flatberg's death was arduous. He's about to learn just how complicated things can get when he learns that his despicable actions have been noticed by someone or something. The stranger claims to be an ally but can a person so passionate about murder be worthy of trust?

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.2k

The rain is thundering against the windows, a painful reminder that summer is long gone and the upcoming weeks will be drowned in cold and darkness. Except for a few cars, the streets of the Capitol are deserted. Freezing, biting wind howls as it pulls and tugs at everything it can lay its hands on. A thunder rolls in the distance, loud and ominous as though mountains have been split in two. The sky appears rancorous this evening.

If Coriolanus had a speck of poetry in him, he’d think the black clouds hanging over the Capitol are akin to the swirling thoughts inside his head. Albeit, he is a pragmatic man and such colourful comparisons escape him.

His home is drowned in darkness when he enters. The rhythmic ticking of the old clock is barely audible over the hollering of the storm. Although not a sound of life can be heard in these four walls, an aroma of gravy and soap fills the air: Tigris and Grandmother must have retired early.

Coriolanus guides his hand to turn on the overhead light when he notices a stripe of glow under the door to his bedroom. How strange - he could clearly remember turning off the bedside lamp when he was leaving in the morning.

Cagily, he turns the brass knob and pushes the door open. The hinges creak shrilly, slowly unravelling the inside of the room:

The bedside lamp is, indeed, on. It shines a faint, unpleasantly yellow light. The bed he had carefully made after waking up is left untouched - not an unfamiliar wrinkle on the expensive, dark duvet. His eyes glide along the sleek material towards the large window.

He clenches his fist and takes a sharp inhale. Coriolanus Snow is startled.

On the windowsill is sitting someone - a nimble silhouette dressed in various shades of grey. Their back is leaning against the wall, one leg propped up and the other casually hanging in the air. Dexterous fingers keep flipping a knife. The blade flows through the air, time and time again performing the same motion of doing a full circle, only to be caught at an angle that doesn’t seem to change either. Although not instantly, Coriolanus does recognize the weapon as an old filleting knife he keeps in the drawer of his bedside table. ��Just in case,’ as he told himself once.

But what strikes him as the strangest about this already bizarre encounter is that she's completely dry, even though it's been raining for a few hours now.

"Sweating and breathing, Panting and screaming," a female voice resounds in his bedroom. She recites the poem in a comically dramatic tone. "Didn’t think I’d ever see him." The woman turns the blade in her skilled fingers, suddenly pointing its sharp tip at Coriolanus. "But I heard and so did you, The thud and smack of the steel-toed shoe." Suddenly, the woman taps her foot against the windowsill three times. “Dancing to the beat of that drum, Lolling head and swollen tongue. A baseline! “She exclaims with a theatrical gesture. “A crescendo!” Like the unbearable tension before the climax, her dramatics are brought to a halt as she hangs her voice and lays the knife against her chest. “A guttural moan when the thing was done.”

Only when she leans forward can Coriolanus see her face. The dim light of his bedside lamp is enough only to illuminate a part visage. Despite that, the twilight of his bedroom is sufficient for him to be certain that nothing about her features is familiar.

"Basil Flatberg fell dead in his own house, among friends and family,” she continues, although her voice is rid of dramatics. “Poison! They said. Which would be awfully sad if it wasn't so..." The unwelcome guest waves her hand looking for a suitable word. "Anti-climatic. Really, Coryo, you could do so much better,” she reprimands him with visible disappointment.

Coriolanus feels his blood turn cold. There is nothing that ties him to the premature demise of Basil. He’s made sure of that. So how come she knows? Has he missed out on a prying set of eyes? Ears, perhaps?

"Who are you?" he asks in a stern voice. Despite the tension inside him, Coriolanus doesn’t let his voice waver.

She does a half-hearted, mocking bow. A playful grin curves her lips. "A specialist at unfortunate accidents, if you will."

It’s not said directly, the important things rarely are, but Coriolanus knows there is only one reason such a ‘specialist’ would visit his bedroom in the late hours of a rainy evening.

Thunder rolls in the distance. Lightning splits the black sky in two. Quite fitting circumstances for the last night alive.

His mind is galloping as he’s considering all the possibilities of surviving this encounter. He may have his fair share of experience in the morbid matters but that doesn’t compare to someone who’s been doing this for years. "So you've come to kill me?" Coriolanus questions, hoping to buy himself a few more minutes.

But the stranger only chuckles.

The woman, whoever she really is, once again point the sharp tip of the filleting knife at Coriolanus. "That's where the dog is buried, my friend,” she says with amusement. The knife glides through the air as she resumes flipping it. “I come it peace. Even better!” Coriolanus closely watches the blade as it makes a few more turns mid-air. The visitor doesn’t catch it with their hand. The knife falls on their hanging foot, nestling perfectly on top of the worn-down work boot. With a swift move of her ankle, she tosses the blade towards Coriolanus. It lays at his feet, glistening in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. “I come with a proposal of an alliance of sorts,” she continues. A satisfied chuckle rumbles in her chest. “Oh, I know that look. You're curious. Good! You see, Coryo, you and I are not so different.” She points between him and her. “The plotting, the opportunistic tendencies, the disregard for morality or human life. Except for the unfortunate limelight. Whether you like it or not, you're kind of a public figure now. And public figures look awful behind prison bars, with blood on their hands. Say, if you could have the ability to have some inconveniences removed without as much as lifting a finger and in return you'd do a small favour every now and then, would you?"

Would you sign away your soul to the Devil?

Yet unsure how he’s supposed to feel about the change of the scenario, Coriolanus is all the more eager to learn about the identity of his unwelcome guest. "I won't ask the third time: who are you?" Anger drips from his words like a cornered animal that turns fear into violence. She has complete control over this situation and it’s making his skin crawl.

"Let's put it this way. If the world was a coronation, all of you self-important Capitol pricks are the princes,” she lays her hand on her chest, “while I'm the bishop."

He ponders her words for a moment. The stranger doesn’t strike him as someone who just runs their mouth - no, each of her words is carefully selected. Her analogy has another, hidden, meaning that is not lot on his quick wit.

"If you're the bishop,” he begins, piercing blue eyes studying all of the nonverbal cues he can see in the twilight of the room, “then who's the pope?"

A smile curves her lips once more. She’s amused, satisfied even. Which in turn means that, so far, Coriolanus is doing exactly what she wants him to do. The ambitious, young man is seething. He’s found himself in the eye of the storm with only basic knowledge on how to navigate restless tides.

"Excellent question!” she exclaims. “I can already tell we're going to get along. I speak in the name of Lucky Jade. She has a lot of emissaries, scattered across Panem. Some pose as simple workers, others as socialites. And some, like yours truly, live away from the public eye."

The notion that there’s some unknown persona pulling the proverbial strings is equally asinine and entirely probable. Panem, after all, is ruled by deplorable schemes and back-stabbing. Who’s to say that there isn’t some higher power orchestrating these morbid dramatics?

Still, no matter how plausible such things are, Coriolanus is a pragmatic man. Hearsays and gossips, as useful and lovely as they are, will always be inferior to material evidence. And such evidence, if she can provide it, might tell him more about the identity of the stranger than she’s willing to admit. "That's a lot of extraordinary claims you're making,” he states, new wave of confidence coursing through his veins. “You better have some proof."

Much to his satisfaction, the woman takes something out of her pocket. It’s small, metallic. The object glistens in the low light of the lamp when she tosses it towards him.

The supposed evidence in his hand is… a ring. It’s made out of silver. There’s an engraving of thorns wrapped around a fish on the inside of the band. Long years of wear and tear have flattened and dulled the image but it remains clear enough to be read.

"I'm always prepared, Coryo.” The nickname has a hint of mockery when she says it. “July, three years ago, district Four. Clover Pitforest, the only daughter of Caspian Thorneforge, dies in a lakehouse fire. Her husband, Fellord Pitforest, is in town, taking care of some business. Officially, the fire started from a lit cigarette that fell on wooden boards and set fresh resin aflame. Not that Clover ever smoked. After the fire is put out and the crispy bones of the fishmongering princess are found, another discovery is made: the jewellery box is gone. Now, you might think to yourself why would a thief set the house on fire but then, why shouldn't a barking dog bite? Good old Caspian breaks down and signs away his fishmongering fortune to Fellord.” The woman returns to her theatrics as she dramatically put the back of her hand against her forehead. “Oh, what a shame, that mister Pitforest has to live the life of a revered widower bathing in obscene wealth.” Then, she spreads her hands in a grand, welcoming gesture. “And they lived happily ever after, or something to that effect."

"Alright, let's say I agree to your proposal. What sort of favours would I have to do?"

"Nothing gory, if that's what you're asking. Unless that’s what gets you going. You see, Coryo, the thing about influential people is that the smallest of their deeds carry immense power. The fact that you say 'yes' to one question and 'no' to the other; whether you show up at an event or leave right before the self-absorbed host makes his pointless speech. All that will be asked of you is to simply be in the right place at the right time. Ask a question, mention an event or a name. Gently nudge the world in a certain direction like water carves the stone over long centuries." She mimics a flowing wave with her hand to get her point across.

But, like older people tend to say, he’s not been hit in the crown of his head. Coriolanus Snow is as smart as a Devil. Maybe even too smart for his own good.

"This all seems too easy to be true, don't you think? I find it hard to believe that you will kill someone if I agree to be ‘in the right place at the right time’ as you have elegantly put it."

"Believe," she muses, slowly nodding. "A strange word indeed. You must believe if there's not enough proof that something is real. I'm not asking you to believe, Coryo. I'm stating a fact of life. I'm asking you to know." A moment of tense silence falls between them. The woman fishes out an old fob watch from her grey jacket. Something must have surprised her because her eyebrows raise as she looks at the pocket watch. "We've been chatting for quite a while and a thunderstorm is perfect weather to fulfil some of my responsibilities. I'm afraid we'll have to part ways, for now. If you're willing to give our cooperation a try, just find someone with a vulture pin. They'll let me know."

He’s not yet done with her, so Coriolanus doesn’t move from his spot in front of the door. If she wants to go, she’ll have to go through him and that’s not happening anytime soon. Although she’s told him quite a lot about what kind of business she wants from him, Coriolanus is aware that he’s barely scraped the tip of this bizarre iceberg.

Just when he’s about to say something, egg her on to tell more, thunder roars and a purple vein of lightning crashes near the building. For a moment, Coriolanus’s bedroom is bright as though it’s daytime before it drowns in complete darkness. Some part of the wiring must have been struck.

Perhaps a minute passes by until the light turns on again. But to his surprise, Coriolanus is alone in his bedroom. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was all a hallucination brought on by illness or stress. Nothing indicates that a stranger has trespassed into his home. Everything is disturbingly undisturbed.

Albeit the ring is still in his hand and the filleting knife still lays at his feet.

The next day, as he’s making his way to Doctor Gaul’s office, Coriolanus convinces himself to put the strange encounter aside until the proverbial viper comes back to bite. He is going to be Panem’s next president and even an intimidating stranger in the night can not dissuade him.

His footsteps echo through the cream-coloured halls. Someone passes him and says a half-hearted ‘Good morning’ but Coriolanus ignores them. He keeps on walking.

A cleaner is mopping the floor close to the wall. Whether it’s her attire or her small frame, she’s almost invisible to the man. Not that servants have any kind of presence to them. That is until something glistens as he’s walking past her.

A pin.

Coriolanus stops dead in his tracks. He takes a good look at the cleaner, only to realize he recognizes her - he’s seen her quite a few times cleaning windows and mopping bathroom floors at the Academy. Despite his memory working as it should, he can not recall whether she’s always had this bronze pin in the shape of a bird of prey. Surely, he’d notice such an out-of-place accessory.

A strange emotion overtakes him. The feeling of being seen through, as though he had been stripped naked and displayed for public humiliation. How long have these ‘emissaries’ been following him? Stalking his every movement?

How much does the woman in grey actually know?

If he wasn’t sure before, he is now - someone who might know him inside-out makes for a dangerous foe. His empire could fall before he has a good chance to start it.

Not caring for etiquette, Coriolanus harshly grabs the cleaner’s arm. She turns around, her body language speaking of fear but the calculated calmness in her hazel eyes shows anything but. The vulture pin sits proudly on her chest, right above where her heart’s supposed to be.

“Tell her I agree,” he barks at the maid.

The cleaner changes her demeanour instantaneously. Her body relaxes as she learns she can drop her A-grade act in front of him. Visibly offended, she yanks her arm out of his tight grasp.

“At once, sir,” she forces herself to sound polite but her eyes throw daggers at the blond man. In an ostentatious manner, she fixes the sleeve of her white shirt.

Coriolanus continues his quick walk towards Gaul’s office. He’s a few minutes late but that’s hardly his fault. How was he supposed to know he was going to run a friend of his most unwelcome guest?

When he enters the spacious room, Gaul is not alone. The woman standing next to her is looking through a folder, nodding along to the Doctor’s monologue. From time to time, the stranger asks a single question or gives a short answer.

It is only when the two women notice his presence that Coriolanus feels his heart drop for the second time this morning. Standing there, in a grey skirt and a matching grey jacket, is the very same person who had trespassed into his bedroom last night. She’s clutching the dossier close to her chest. Her legs are glued together. Contrary to just a few hours prior, she appears timid.

“And here he is,” Gaul’s voice echoes through the surgically white room. The irate tone of her voice is not lost on Coriolanus.

The stranger he met last night gives him a soft smile. She extends her arm, offering a polite handshake. "I don't think we've been introduced, mister...?"

"Snow,” he answers shaking her hand. He’s carefully studying her features but no matter how closely he examines her expression, nothing about it indicates that she’s putting up an act. By all means, this facade appears genuine. “Coriolanus Snow."

Her face lights up in a way so innocent, it makes him sick to his stomach. “One night I saw a snowflake fall. Past memories it did recall. And as the snow fell to the ground, So quietly without a sound, I watched until a blanket made, To glistening white - brown earth did fade.” Coriolanus feels a cold shiver run down his spine as the woman quotes the poem. This part about her is familiar. Judging by the knowing look in her eyes, this time, too, there is more to her words than just their surface-level meaning. Then, the familiarity disappears as she breaks into nervous laughter. "I'm sorry, it's a force of habit. My late father used to teach literature. Pleased to make your acquaintance, mister Snow."

The foreign accent, the syntax... It’s almost as though the woman in front of him is a completely different person. In some sense, she is.

"Likewise,” he hears himself slowly answer. How come this situation is only getting weirder by the second?

Then she simply leaves his side, walking towards the door. The way she moves is so ordinary, Coriolanus finds it hard to believe that the very same woman simply vanished in front of his eyes the night before.

‘Believe,’ he catches his thoughts. ‘A strange word indeed.’

"Tomorrow morning, miss Bishop and not a minute later,” Gaul calls after the woman.

Coriolanus fights hard against himself to control his expression. Bishop? It’s almost as if the whole point of this lark was to prove to him how far Lucky Jade’s roots reach. If this person, whoever they really are, can fabricate a persona to get her into the Ministry of War, she must be someone worth knowing. Even better - someone worth befriending.

"Of course, doctor Gaul,” she answers. Her eyes switch from the Doctor to Snow’s face. “I take pride in my work.”

Just like last night, when thunder rumbled and rain thudded on his windows, the woman disappears. Despite the answers she provided, he’s left with many more questions.

And just like yesterday, the lack of control leaves him seething.

___

The poems used are "A Snowflake Falls" by Ruth Adams and "Fin" by Collic

#tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas fanfic #coriolanus snow #coryo #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader

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fortuneravine · 5 months ago

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official fortuneravine oc post

so you guys actually know who i'm talking about!! wahoo!!!!

Team Campfire - Fig (cyndaquil, she/any) + Chive (chikorita, she/her)

fig: not much of a talker, it's hard to get a read on her. her shyness gets read as being cool and mysterious, which she's fine with. content with her pokemon form, but takes a long time to get comfortable in it. has accidentally set more than a few things on fire

chive: much more outgoing than her partner, she does most of the talking for the team. very passionate about food and cooking, she hopes to open a cafe one day. always experimenting with random nuts and berries, with a little help from fig's flames

Team Obsidian - Mistral (totodile, she/they) + Cinder (vulpix, she/they)

mistral: seemingly has absolutely no sense of danger of self preservation, she's reckless and hardly ever thinks things through. scares the shit out of cinder on a daily basis by doing something stupid. a bit of a self-sacrificial idiot, they get it from grovyle

cinder: anxiety incarnate. absolute wet cat of a fox. she's wanted to be an explorer her whole life, but getting badly injured in a dungeon scared her away from it for a long time. much more calm and confident nowadays, getting dragged into dangerous situations by a certain gator forced her to get over a lot of her fears

Team Hydra - Ceru (oshawott, she/xe) + Olivine (axew, he/they)

ceru: the funny one. you may know her from my critically acclaimed shitposts. xe's the oshknwott that works at subway. didn't have a whole lot going for xem as a human, she's much happier with her life as a pokemon

olivine: ollie to his friends. absolute guy. kind to a fault. he loves to feel useful and help other pokemon, to the point they forgets to look after themself. loves his friends and will fight anyone who is mean to them

The Rapids- Mistral (totodile, she/they) + Basil (riolu, they/them)

mistral: yeah the same guy from team obsidian. don't ask me how that works in lore, i don't know. this version is a bit younger

basil: let's hear it for kids with Problems!!!! they're around 12 years old, with all the accompanying issues that come with being around 12 years old. they tend to come off as overly enthusiastic or annoying, they really struggled to make friends until mist came along. they put on a brave face, but they've got hella insecurities

#been meaning to make a post like this for awhile. here it is #(oc) fig #(oc) chive #(oc) mistral #(oc) cinder #(oc) ceru #(oc) olivine #(oc) basil

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i-can-not-art · 1 month ago

Note

girl gimme a ref sheet or sm for ur fav oc and gimme a bit of backstory, basil I beg of u I will only need this to finally fill my craving of drawing ur oc, like ahhshahahshshhah I love ur art sm lol

anyways heyy hruuu

Omg thank you I’m so glad you like my art 😭

Also I like never make refs for my OCs (keep all their designs in my mindscape) but here’s a little thing for my bbg midge jshanajehbaja thx for drawing them🙏

Uhhhhh okay so basically “The Event” was when aliens and humans met, at first relations were good, but then it was found a disease the aliens carried over was incredibly fatal to humans, a couple years later and ~95% of earth’s population is dead and the remains ~5% have immunity, but most are left with physical damage/disabilities.

Midge (who at this point is still just “Meng Guo”) is infected and barely survives, and when they wake up from a coma to find the earth completely different, he takes this as a chance to run away from his past and become a new person basically, taking on the name Midge and acting completely different.

I also yap about their lore a little in this post

#i can not art #my art #oc: Meng midge #my oc #asks #oc lore

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gravehags · 29 days ago

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all vacant and waste - the natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: picnics, car sex, confrontation, terzo being terzo, sister imperator ruining the vibes, sister imperator being a complex human being, copia standing up for himself and his girl, FORESHADOWING, mst3k reference

Words: 4,853

Summary: And the two of them were having such a nice day.

a/n: LORE AND SMUT AND LORE AND SMUT AND

~~~

When Natalie awakens she’s surprised to see that it’s nearly noon.

Copia’s side of the bed is cold and she frowns as she stretches and throws back the covers. Getting up, she pads to the kitchen, which is empty. She’s about to turn around and go get her phone when she spots a note on the counter written in a familiar decisive, loopy scrawl.

Amore,

Thank you for your candor and your affection, last night and always. I have a few things to see to this morning but when you are done getting ready (take your time!), meet me downstairs in the Papas’ kitchen - I’d like to pack a lunch and go for a drive. I will keep you in my morning prayers and hope that your sleep was as surprisingly restful as mine.

Ciao xx,

Natalie’s shoulders sag in relief as her heart swells - how funny the two of them both slept so well after such a harrowing late night conversation. She wonders if his dreams were anything like hers. With a loud yawn, she stretches once more and heads back into the bedroom to get ready. Copia told her to take her time but she doesn’t want to leave him waiting too long and besides, she’s eager to see his face. Her morning routine runs efficiently and she selects a short, thin-strapped yellow floral sundress to wear after opening her window and gauging the weather. Grabbing her phone, her purse, and her keys Natalie heads out and down the stairs. When she approaches the hallway leading to the Papas’ kitchen she can hear loud arguing in Italian. Hesitantly, she approaches the doorway and knocks against the frame.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

Copia, along with Secondo and Terzo, turn to look at her. When all three behold her outfit for the day all fighting ceases in order to coo and compliment her. Natalie, however, is too focused on Copia’s outfit. He looks very priestly today in his black clerical shirt, slacks, and dress shoes and she can feel her face warm at the sight. Judging from the way his jaw goes slack at her outfit, he’s feeling the same way.

“Bella, look at you! All this wasted on il Cardinale, ah what a shame.”

Natalie gives Terzo a stern look and shoves past him to go see the aforementioned Cardinale.

“Good morning, my love,” she murmurs, kissing him once on the lips and once on the cheek, “Don’t listen to Terzo.”

“I rarely do,” Copia smirks and out of the corner of her eye Natalie sees Terzo make a rude gesture. Secondo snorts derisively as he slides a large basket across the island counter to her.

“For your picnic, piccolina,” he says, pointing to a loaf of sliced sourdough, a generous container of fresh mozzarella and basil, a jar of marcona almonds, and two bottles of aranciata rossa. She smiles and stands on tiptoes to place a kiss to his cheek which again, has Terzo making a rude gesture.

“Grazie mille, Secondo,” she says, “No tomatoes with the mozzarella and basil?”

“With this one?” he scoffs, jerking his thumb towards Copia, “Never. Ask him to tell you about what Terzo did to him when we were kids.”

“Don’t remind me,” Copia grouses as Terzo chuckles sinisterly behind him, “Are you eh, all ready to rock and roll, tesoro?”

“Whenever you are. Secondo, thank you so much, you’re the sweetest. Terzo…stay out of trouble, per favore.”

“I won’t make any promises,” Terzo comments airily, while sticking out his cheek for a kiss which she daintily applies. “Go,” he murmurs in her ear, his hand on her back, “Enjoy your time away from here, huh? You and the rat deserve it.”

“‘The rat’ can hear you, figlio di puttana,” Copia growls, muscling in between the two of them with the picnic basket. Natalie gives the Papas a wave and she smiles as she hears Secondo chastising Terzo on the way out.

“By the way,” she says as they walk side by side down the hall, “You look delicious today.”

Copia scoffs but his ears turn red all the same.

“If I didn’t know any better, amore, I’d say you have eh, a thing for men of the cloth.”

Now it’s her turn to go red but she still grins at him.

“Now why would you think you know any better?” Natalie purrs, reaching out to squeeze his ass. The act has him gasping in faux-scandalization.

“Natalia, don’t start something you can’t finish,” he says as they approach the front doors to the abbey.

“Later, then,” she winks and the two of them cross the threshold to make their way to his car. It’s beautiful out, as she thought it would be, but as she slides into the passenger seat she clocks thunderclouds on the horizon.

“So where are you taking me?” Natalie asks as he pulls out and down the driveway.

“I know a spot,” he smiles.

“Oh?” she turns towards him and rests her arm on the back of the seat, “Take all your girls here, huh?”

That makes him laugh out loud.

“Only the very special ones. So that is to say no one but you. I used to drive out here when I first started living here so I could clear my head and get away from the clergy drama. It’s been a while since I’ve made it out here. Too many eh, obligations now.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, reaching out to stroke his hair, “You deserve more days off. I’ve always said you’re the hardest working person in the abbey.”

He smiles softly.

“Second-most employee of the month awards,” he says, puffing out his chest.

“Oh Cardinal,” Natalie coos, “Competency is very sexy, I–wait, second? Who has the first?”

“Eh, some guy named Kevin. Or Jesus. Depends who you ask.”

The two of them travel in silence for another fifteen minutes before Copia turns down a dirt road. The car comes to a stop next to a small, grassy clearing and he puts it in park before slapping his thighs.

“Here we are,” he announces and they both step out. As Natalie moves further into the grass while Copia takes the basket out of the trunk, she notes a picturesque stream weaving in between the large oak trees. She inhales deep - it’s been a while since she’s been out in nature - and the myriad of scents and sounds refresh her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, as he stands beside her. She nods and turns to take the blanket from him. She moves closer to the water’s edge and spreads it out, plopping down on the plush greenery. With a groan he takes a seat beside her and Natalie begins doling out their meal. Their conversation is…lovely. Worlds away from the one they had in bed last night. They’re swapping childhood tales when she’s reminded of Secondo’s words from earlier.

“So what’s this thing with you and tomatoes?” she asks, popping an almond into her mouth.

“Eugh,” Copia says in between chews of bread, “Fucking Terzo. I don’t like raw tomatoes - never have. And yes I know, I know I make a poor Italian but when I was little, I don’t know maybe eight or nine, and Terzo was older - the right age to act like a little shit - he took a tomato from the gardens and chased me around the abbey with it. I was crying, he was laughing and when he finally caught me and smushed the tomato into my mouth I broke free, gagging. Before I could make it to the nearest bathroom I puked all over this ancient cardinal who had the misfortune of standing nearby.”

“Oh no,” Natalie says, covering her mouth, “Copia that’s awful!”

“It gets worse,” he says, smiling despite his words, “This cardinal - his name was Carlo Udinesi - stood there filled with rage and told me, ‘you will never come to anything within this Ministry, ratto bastardo.’ He died not long after that. I remember his funeral and I remember wondering if my puke is what had pushed him over the edge.”

“Ominous,” Natalie says with a laugh, “And not to bring up last night but very Damien Thorn of you, my love.”

“It was, wasn’t it? That’s where I got my tattoo from, you know.”

She tears into a piece of sourdough.

“I had wondered,” she smiles, “Just chalked it up to you being a horror fan but I love it even more now.”

“It was a bit of both. Terzo convinced–”

Natalie feels a large, heavy drop land on the back of her hand, followed by another, and another. As the two of them were engrossed in conversation they hadn’t noticed the storm clouds rolling over their heads.

“Shit,” she sighs, “We better pack up.”

Copia nods and stuffs the remainder of his piece of bread in his mouth, rising to his feet with her. Before they know it the sky opens up as Natalie’s putting the food back in the basket.

“Cazzo!” Copia shouts as she balls the blanket up and he gestures for her to hand it to him, “Get in the backseat, I’ll put this shit in the trunk!”

By the time Natalie makes it back to the car and opens the door, throwing herself inside, she’s soaked. Copia joins her a minute later and slams the door, panting.

“Good thing you didn’t wear your paints today, huh?” she grins, “You’d have looked like a drowned raccoon.”

He reaches down and pinches her thigh.

“Very funny, amore. I think I would have looked eh, metal.”

“Oh I’ve hurt your feelings,” she murmurs, “Let me make it up to you.”

It takes some finagling but she’s able to pull herself up and swing her leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Signorina Sinclair, in the backseat?”

Natalie smiles wickedly.

“Mmhmm. Want you in the backseat like I wanted it New Year’s Eve on the way to dinner. Besides, how am I meant to resist when you look like this.”

Her fingers make quick work of the top few buttons of his shirt and his hands come to rest on her ass and squeeze.

“When I look like this? Natalia,” he growls, leaning forward to lick a stripe up her neck that has her shivering, “Almost told the brothers to fuck off so I could have you on the counter in this sweet little dress earlier, huh? Little tease.”

He captures her lips in a lewd kiss, tongues sliding against each other in a way that has her whimpering into his mouth. When they finally have to separate for breath he grins up at her.

“Ah, this is a familiar sight, eh dolcezza? Speaking of New Year’s Eve.”

She giggles warmly and nods, pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck. When her teeth drag along the sensitive skin there she feels his cock kick against her.

“Cazzo, diavoletta mia. Have you–ah–have you always been so hungry for me?”

Natalie pauses in her efforts to suck a mark into his throat and pulls back.

“Always,” she breathes, flexing her hips against him, “Wanted you from the moment I met you.”

“Likewise,” he sighs as she reaches down to fiddle with his belt, button, and zipper, “When you walked into my office that day, unholy fuck. P-pretty little thing and so sweet. I k-knew you were special immediately.”

“Well,” she says, easing the thick length of his cock out of his underwear and rubbing her thumb against the head, making him gasp, “We were made for each other after all, hmm? Destined for one another. Destined,” she murmurs as she shifts the gusset of her soaked underwear to the side, rubbing her cunt on him, “To love and protect and fuck. So says your Unholy Father.”

Copia’s mouth hangs open as Natalie raises herself onto her knees and positions him at her entrance, impaling herself upon him with agonizing slowness. When she finally has all of him encapsulated in her tight, wet heat, he moans and his hands slide under the hem of her dress as a prayer is pushed from his lips.

“Ave Sathanas.”

Natalie’s breath comes in little pants as she cups the side of his face and runs her thumb along his sideburn.

“Ave Sathanas,” she murmurs, “For giving me you.”

Gently she eases herself off him and takes him back in, their mouths sharing breath. She’s trembling as she sets a rhythm, riding him with increasing force as she moans wantonly. Between the rain and their actions, the windows of the LeSabre have become steamy and it only reinforces the filthiness of their act.

“Natalia mia,” Copia grunts, thrusting up into her in time with each roll of her hips and making her see stars, “W-wore this pretty dress for me on p-purpose, huh? W-wanted this all along.”

Her laugh is breathy and borderline hysterical as she bounces on his cock.

“Mmm fuck–knew you’d love it. I was–ah–gonna fuck you outside on the blanket til the r-rain came. This is even b-better.”

The last word comes out of her mouth in a higher octave as she pants and whines, her thighs burning even as Copia massages them. When one of his hands slips between her legs, his thumb making tight circles over her clit, her back arches and thrusts her breasts into his face. Not missing a beat, he leans forward and sucks at her nipple through the thin fabric, eventually losing patience. Growling, he takes his unoccupied hand and tugs the strap and the front of the dress down until a full, pale breast is falling out, his hungry mouth latching onto her pebbled and taut bud. Natalie’s eyes roll back as he plays her like a fiddle - cock pumping into her, fingers on her clit, lips on her breast - moaning into the humid air inside the car as she clings to him. He pulls off her to gasp for air, groaning.

“Cazzo, d-dolcezza, you’re close I can f-feel it.”

He’s right, with every rut of her hips and swipe of his thumb Natalie’s cunt clenches around the thick length of him. He begins murmuring to her in Italian and she catches a few words here and there - good girl, perfect girl, mine - and when she looks down into his eyes he gazes up at her with such raw adoration it pushes her over the edge. She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until his hands are on her cheeks, swiping away the tears as she rides out her orgasm.

“L-look at me, amore mio,” he breathes, and she does as he asks, cupping his face in her hands. She watches as his jaw hangs open and his breaths come short and sharp, pupils blown as he fucks up into her one, two, three more times and cums with more of a wail than a moan.

“I love you,” Natalie whispers, pressing her damp forehead to his, “I love you, I love you, I love you no matter what.”

She knows her grip on him has to be borderline painful and when he reaches up to take her hands in his and press them to his lips, she sobs.

“Thank you,” his voice is small, and he sounds like he’s holding back on tears of his own. “Natalia mia, thank you. Sei il mio tutto. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

Natalie hiccups and nods, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close. His hands roam her back, tracing patterns as she breathes in the faint orange blossom scent of what remains of his hair pomade. She’s not sure how long the two of them sit like this - until her thighs start to ache and long after he’s gone soft inside her - but when they finally pull apart the way he looks at her brings a small smile to her face.

“We uh,” she sniffles, inelegantly wiping her nose with the back of her hand, “We should probably get back.” Her words are punctuated with a full body shiver that has him tutting and easing her out of his lap.

“You’re going to catch a cold like this, dolcezza. Half naked, hair wet. I’ll get you back to where it’s warm.”

“Grazie, nonna,” Natalie murmurs, giving him a wink before opening the car door. It’s still pouring outside but the fresh air after the humidity of the vehicle is nice, and it smells wet and green out. She doesn’t even mind getting a little more damp as she moves to the passenger seat and Copia slides in beside her, eyes a little dewy.

“I eh, I don’t think I said it back but…I love you too.”

“I know.”

He chuckles.

“Okay Han Solo. I just have to say it out loud sometimes, huh? If only to remind myself that I uh, have somebody to love, sì?”

“My love, I will never complain about hearing it. It’s nice to be loved. Even though I’m um…still not really used to it, you know?”

Natalie tries to muffle the shiver that shakes her but Copia’s sharp eyes have caught it and he’s fretting again as he starts the car.

“Well get used to it, amore, because I’m gonna be so annoying about it I–”

The two of them look out the windshield. Or…try to. The glass is entirely fogged over from their activities and she lets out a bark of laughter as Copia sighs heavily.

“There’s a rag in the glove compartment, can you…”

“On it.”

–

The two of them make it back to the abbey eventually, laughing as they run through the rain from the row of garages to the front door. When they step inside the marble entrance, it’s chilly and Natalie grips Copia’s hand and starts to drag him in the direction of her apartment.

“Come on, bello mio, let’s go dry off and put a movie on and…what’s wrong?”

Copia has stopped in his tracks and is staring straight ahead at the figure marching towards the two of them. Natalie would know the clack of those heels anywhere and her blood runs cold as Sister Imperator approaches, lips twisted in a disapproving grimace.

“I was under the impression that you two were under the weather. What a miraculous recovery you’ve made.”

Natalie glances sideways at Copia, whose face is a mask. His eyes though, are filled with fire.

“So I took a personal day. Frankly, Sister, I think I deserve it every once in a while.”

“You have obligations, Cardinal.”

“Oh? And spending time with my Sathanas-approved mate isn’t one of those obligations?”

Imperator pulls back as if she’s been slapped and Natalie’s heart sinks. Yes, the two of them had planned on confronting her about her demands but Natalie wanted to be able to talk first. Plan. So much for being prepared.

“Both of you, my office, now,” she says, deadly quiet before turning on her heel and walking away.

Copia gives Natalie’s hand a squeeze and when she looks at him with anxiety written all over her face, his brows furrow.

“Together,” he murmurs.

“Together,” she confirms.

Sister Imperator doesn’t wait for the two of them, simply anticipating that they will obey her and follow. When Copia opens her office door she’s sitting behind her desk, hands folded on the surface and a venomous look on her face. The two of them sit down opposite her and she eyes their still clasped hands with disdain.

“I think this goes without saying but you’re fired,” she states curtly while looking at the younger woman. Natalie’s jaw drops and heart plummets but Copia barks out a harsh laugh.

“No, she isn’t,” he says, a faint sneer playing along his lips. “Because if you fire her, I’m leaving the church. And you can’t lose your precious pawn, can you…madre?”

She’s looking at Natalie once again, her face pale and drawn.

“You–you told him everything? After I said–”

“How could I not?” Natalie says and she hates the way her voice shakes, “How could you tell me all of that and expect me to keep it to myself? To suffer in silence with that knowledge about the only man I’ve ever loved? How could you think he didn’t deserve–”

“Your suffering means nothing to me, girl,” Imperator spits and Copia looks enraged.

“Her suffering is everything to me and you will not speak to her like that, capisci? How could you be so cruel to the woman your son loves? To tell her she was chosen to be a broodmare regardless of her personal desires?”

“She can be replaced,” Imperator says, looking over to Copia desperately. “Cardi, we found her, we can find another.”

“Find…another…?” he says, blinking at her. “She’s…she’s not a broken toy that can be discarded and…how could you say such a thing?”

A silence descends on the room, punctuated by Natalie sniffling and angrily wiping tears away.

“I love your son,” she says, voice cracking, “I would do anything for him. He knows this. I love him not in spite of what he is but because of everything he is. He’s a good man, a devoted cardinal. But he deserves better than to be pushed around on the Ministry chessboard his whole fucking life. He’s forty-nine years old, Sister. That’s forty-nine years you could have spent acting like his mother - caring for him like a mother would. But you–”

“Don’t you dare presume to tell me what I have and have not done,” Imperator says quietly, icily. “Do you think I wanted it to be like this? That after I gave birth I wanted him to be wrenched from my arms and treated like an orphan? To be told by Ministry officials that I was just a vessel and my claim on him was null?”

Natalie blinks back tears and with some surprise she realizes Imperator’s doing the same. She’s never seen the older woman so upset and judging by Copia’s face, neither has he.

“I’m sorry.” Natalie murmurs, “Sister, I am so, so sorry they put you through that. It’s not right and you deserved better.”

A tense silence settles among the three of them.

“Does my Natalia not deserve better?” Copia says softly. “Does she not deserve to have autonomy over her own body, as the Olde One deems? I’ll play my part, but spare her this horror. Let her stay by my side as an equal partner, let me keep her safe. Consider this the only favor I’ll ever ask of you, mother.”

Sister Imperator fishes a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipes at her cheeks, eyes avoiding both of them. When she finally does look at them, there’s something deeply sorrowful in her gaze.

“I wish your father was more like you,” she says, glancing over to Copia after a moment. “Maybe things would have been different.”

“My…my father…?”

“Don’t be silly, Cardi, I’m sure you pieced the puzzle together by now. You were conceived in a ritual involving Papa Nihil being possessed by the Unholy Father.”

So Copia was right. Natalie looks over to him and his face is twisted in anguish, devastated to receive confirmation on what he suspected his whole life. She takes his hand in both of hers and squeezes tight. Imperator’s gaze flicks between them both and she lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay,” she says to herself softly, as if making up her mind about something, “Okay. Plans…plans can be changed. In the end this…setback…affects very little, I suppose. I’ll have to speak to Mr. Psaltarian and the rest of the Council about this but…yes this should work.”

The weight in Natalie’s stomach begins to lift and Copia looks over to her.

“You’ll respect my wishes, then?” she asks tentatively.

“Yes. Yes, dear I believe you’ll–everything will be fine.”

Dear. Well it’s a significant upgrade from girl, that’s for sure.

“Thank you,” Copia says, “Sister. Mother. Whatever. Thank you.”

She nods, but she looks preoccupied with other thoughts.

“Why don’t you two take the rest of the week? Give you a chance to clear your heads. I-I understand this has been a lot to digest.”

“I eh, thought I had obligations?”

Imperator gives Copia a tired look, perhaps the most motherly Natalie’s seen her thus far.

“I thought you deserved time off, Cardi? If not I can always send you the budget for–”

“Eh, no. We’ll take it. Thank you, Sister.”

The two of them rise and Copia leaves but Natalie stands in place looking at the woman before her.

“Thank you,” she says so quietly, she’s not even sure Imperator heard it until she nods. The older woman opens her mouth to speak but shuts it again, clearly second guessing what she was about to say as she waves Natalie out. When Natalie shuts the door behind her, Copia is leaning against the hallway wall and staring at the floor.

“Hey,” Natalie murmurs, fingers reaching out to brush his side, “You okay?”

He inhales deep and exhales through his mouth before reaching for her.

“I’ve never spoken like that to her before. Pretty sad, huh? Almost fifty and–”

“My love, you were wonderful,” she says, gathering him into her arms, “I’ve never seen you so furious, it was magnificent.”

His shoulders shake in her embrace and for a heartbreaking moment Natalie thinks he’s sobbing but when they pull apart he’s got a grin on his face.

“Natalia Sinclair, you make me so brave,” he says, cupping her cheeks in his hands and placing a kiss on her forehead. She chuckles, putting her hands over his.

“Do you think…” she murmurs, lips twitching into a smile and he cocks his head, “Do you think when Meatloaf was singing about doing anything for love but not that, the ‘that’ was having the Antichrist’s baby because–”

“Sathanas, you only just dodged this bullet and now you’re making jokes? Incredibile.”

Chortling, he starts to walk down the hall and she loops her arm through his.

“Leave me alone, it’s how I process trauma. And I no longer think your mom actively wants to murder me in my sleep so I’m celebrating a win here, love. But…would you really have left the church for me? Did you mean that?”

Copia stops and turns to her.

“Assolutamente. In a heartbeat. A life here without you in it would be meaningless, amore. You are all that matters to me now and if that means finding a new job and a new home, well. With you I can do anything. And don’t you worry, I would never let her hurt you. Never,” he goes quiet for a moment and then speaks again, “Makes you wonder, though, you know. About what she has in store for me.”

“Hey,” Natalie stops him, hands on his biceps, “Whatever it is it’s your choice. It’s your life. No one is destined to fulfill any kind of contract, not even you. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you.”

He smiles, nudging her chin with his thumb.

“Let’s go take a hot bath, huh?”

She groans.

“Oh that sounds divine. And put on Mystery Science Theater 3000?”

“Which episode, though?”

“Antichrist’s choice tonight.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Manos.”

“The Hands of Fate? Classic. Hey, is it weird I always had a thing for Dr. Forrester?”

Copia stops in his tracks and she looks at him innocently.

“Maybe it’s the whole evil thing. And the mustache.”

He calls her a name in Italian under his breath and she spends the rest of the walk back to her apartment begging him to divulge it. When the two of them reach the door he finally breaks.

“I said ‘birichina mia’.”

“And what does that mean?”

He sighs.

“Eh, ‘my naughty little one’.”

Natalie’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and she bites her lip while opening the door to her quarters.

“Get that bath started and I’ll show you just how naughty I can get, hmm?”

Copia grins at her wickedly.

“Twice in one afternoon? You spoil me, amore.”

“Hmm I suppose I do,” she says airily, lifting the hem of her damp sundress over her head and tossing it onto the floor. Copia’s eyes go wide as she pinches at her hardened nipples until they’re a pretty dark pink and he backs clumsily into the doorway of her bedroom.

“Well go on,” she purrs, shimmying out of her underwear. “Get to it, Your Eminence.”

She’s never seen him move so fast as he hustles into her bathroom, untucking his shirt along the way. By the time the two of them are slumped over and spent much later in the now tepid bathwater, he’s softly singing something in her ear while her eyes drift closed.

“Is that one of Terzo’s songs? ‘Bible’?”

“Eh, yeah,” he sounds sheepish so Natalie reaches behind her to scratch his scalp soothingly.

“You’ve got a nice voice, my love. We should do karaoke one night.”

He chuckles.

“Oh no, I’m not built for performing, amore. Too much pressure.”

“Who knows,” she murmurs, leaning back against him, “You might surprise yourself one day, hmm?”

#cardinal copia x oc #natalie sinclair #the natalie edit #curator reader series #rachel writes

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