#but I will also always miss his cardinal look

[spectral-phases]

Tim Drake as Rook (and Blackbird)

I've seen posts floating around trying to suggest new names and new costumes for him, and I've seen really great designs (u/Hunkerdown_son's Gray Ghost suit) that I like a lot more than what he's gotten. (Poor kid's gone back to Robin and was feuding with Damian about who's the better Robin? Like, boy, you could be in college, you are a whole-ass adult now, god damn, can the writers let you develop). There's Cardinal, Flamebird, Redbird, every red bird there is. And like, I get it, Red Robin was one of his more iconic runs (pre-Flashpoint), his OYL costume was primarily red, he was Red Robin wearing basically a Robin costume for a little while there too.

One of the name's I've seen is Rook. And that fascinates me. I actually had a hazy image of it pop into my mind, like a terrible "got any more pixels?" JPG picture of an artbook all zoomed-in and blown out one, of what that might look like.

(Artist's recreation of the above described image)

So I made it.

(Look, I know. I know. That is not how "Rook" would be stylized for the logo, but listen, listen. Cursive k basically has a mini-R in it and I was having fun with this. Okay? I don't draw much these days and I'm not a comic artist/graphic designer. I do math for a living.) (I spent very little time on the logo for Blackbird, but you get the idea. The "R" gets twisted nicely into a "B" for Blackbird, in my opinion.)

Design choices and everything below. Very stupidly long.

Rook first because I know the color is going to be a sell.

Rook is a bird in the corvid family, with crows, so they're exceptionally smart birds. Rooks are also the name for the chess piece that can perform the trickster maneuver called castling where they trade places with the king (It's not hard to do, necessarily, just like, a 4D move compared to the normal chess moves, and not something the average person knows about). Being that he's been relegated to the "boy genius" role and he is vicious and cunning with his mind more than almost anything else (See Robin #137's "Show your face here again and we'll frame you for the kind of crimes even other hardened kills don't condone or forgive" speech, him blowing up the LoA's computers in Red Robin #8 after somehow creating a program/virus on their systems while under constant supervision, or all of Red Robin's "The Hit List" arc). (I know he's not the only one who can do or has done, things like this, but he does it a lot, is my point).

Rooks, the birds, as a symbol of death are also fascinating to connect to Tim. He's never "died" like the other Robins have, but his mantra in his introduction is basically "Batman needs a Robin." Because Batman/Bruce has been traumatized by losing his son, Jason, and is spiraling, dialing up the violence towards criminals, dialing down his ability to care whether or not he survives, destroying his interpersonal relationships in the process. Death as a symbol can mean the literal figurative death, but it also can mean the end of a phase of life, of letting something go, and moving onto a new chapter.

And that's what Bruce needed to do. He, of course, would always miss Jason, but he needed to move past the pain, move past the agony, become what Batman was supposed to be again. Tim's the one who got him there. He's the one who convinced Bruce to open that new door. Tim's the one who put the "family" in Bat-Family because Bruce sure as shit was not going to do that. Here, this post explains that a bit more eloquently.

https://www.tumblr.com/thattimdrakeguy/190044791065/would-you-consider-tim-the-heart-of-the-batfamily

Rooks, the birds, are also blue/purple in color, which I think is great for Tim. I know, I know, everyone wants him with red. I get. I really, truly, get it. But let's just...take a step back and go outside of the box a little for his color. Now, I know, not everyone keeps the same color consistently (the number of times Nightwing has just bounced between Blue and Red, for example), but there is usually a "main" color strongly associated with each member of the Bat-Family.

Nightwing gets blue, duh (and also bluebird). Red Hood gets red (and also Nightwing when he's having a shit time and also Kate Kane's Batwoman and also Damian's Redwing). Damian's Robin often gets green (though I low-key associate green with Tim's Robin more than Damian's, Tim's no longer going to be Robin here, so Damian can have it). The Signal gets yellow (and so does Cass's Batgirl/Black Bat/Orphan). Stephanie as Spoiler/Batgirl has purple (and so does Huntress and Barbara's Batgirl). And Oracle gets lime green.

We don't need any more red symbols in the family. It's already out of hand without throwing Tim in there. And out of all the siblings, he's the only one without a distinct color.

Anyway. If we dip into tertiary colors, we can fix all of that. I made a mock-up of what I mean drawing the symbols mostly by memory in a few minutes. For Huntress/Helena Bertinelli, I just used her mask.

See how Tim as Rook gets to be wedged in between Nightwing's blue and Stephanie's purple with Violet? Tim Drake is a Dick Grayson fan first, Nightwing fan second, and person a distant third, so going more blue with his scheme is a much better fit. You could come up with a name for him to be teal, but violet is better for Rook, and like he's also close to Stephanie's Spoiler/Batgirl colors and say what you will of his relationship with her, she is important to his character as friend/girlfriend/friendly-ex. And Dick went from "Red/green/yellow" to "Blue/black" so Tim can go from "Red/green/yellow/black" to "violet/black."

Oh, and it lets him get his "R" back. The one from the 90's that's just so iconic that he was literally introduced with as Robin. If we can have a million different bat symbols then we can have two different R's floating around and no one will be confused.

And anyway, with all of that in mind, and that terrible image haunting me, I decided to draw a quick reference sheet for what Rook might look like. I think I spent like 2 hours on the final version, with an hour and a half on sketches I hated/deleted. Anyway.

I had a nice dark green in here instead of sky blue and a dark purple instead of dark blue, but then I was looking at the purple/green combo and "I'm in dangered" my way out of the Joker color-combo.

Instead I decided, since he's a young person and the violet I chose was sort of blacklight-esque, then why not make him look like some kinda blacklight glowing guy. The youth these days still love that kinda stuff, right? And it ties into the themes of being a light in the dark and crime-scene stuff and all that. The colors came from how lead glass reacts under black light, and while I imagine the violet parts do show up in black light, it's the light blue parts that actually glow in blacklight.

If you want to draw this design or make up your own Rook design or tweak this design go ahead, like, for example if you wanted him to have the sharp pointy cuffs that I couldn't get to look good at all (but please tag me if you do, I wanna see it, unless you're shit-talking me. Then don't tag me.)(Shit talking means "my god, this asshole who cannot draw at all" and not "It was okay, but I thought it might be better like this/with some tweaks/more coherent colors" one I can take and the former will make me cry).

(If the notes are hard to read, they will be in text at the very bottom)

Obviously, I got a little too obsessed with the mask for my own good. I didn't want him to just have a domino mask, I liked the protectiveness of his Red Robin cowl (if not the look), and I wanted more coverage while also having his hair out because he has really good hair. So it goes around the back of his head in a band, protecting his temples and the back of his head, but nothing else for his hair to show. It is supposed to blend with his hair so we get the illusion of the cowl, but drawn by someone better/more time/shading it'd be fairly obvious up front where his hair and mask are, but less so from the back. And Tim has done the mask under a mask gag before and a self-destructing mask, so I feel like him having approximately 30-billion fail-safes to prevent it from just being pulled off of him is in-character.

And then I decided, that since Tim is Nightwing fan second, he can have a red version of the outfit named "Blackbird" for when he's feeling a little moody or feisty the same as Nightwing has the red Nightwing suit for...reasons ("We wear red in new continuities" or whatever. Why have one outfit when you can have several?). This time the colors were inspired by red cadmium glass under blacklight and the red winged blackbird.

Red Winged Blackbird's symbolically are "a sign of change and transformation. They represent the power of love and compassion, as well as the need to take action in order to make positive changes in your life. The red winged blackbird is a symbol for spiritual growth, inner strength, courage, determination and self-awareness." Which. You know. Fits Tim. And there's red. So. I feel like that's an easy sell. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I wanted to reference his OYL, Post-Crisis Red Robin (regular and data alter), and Robin (Post-Crisis/Rebirth) outfits for the design. I didn't care for much of his post-Flashpoint Red Robin outifts, adding Nomura/Kingdom Hearts zippers levels of belts to him or just being Robin with two "R"s for a symbol and bad hair. You can see the OYL in the edges of the cape and the interior of the mask. Robin, Rebirth in particular, with his elbow pads and knee pads, shoulder armor and the shape of his boots. Red Robin in the bandolier harness/belt thing he's got, but every thing on it is one of those hammer space utility belt pouches the Bats are so well known for, so he can have a bajillion of them as the "tool using" Robin. The "V" center and arm-stripe/finger-stripe combo is, obviously, reminiscent of Nightwing, and his Red Robin data alter, which is also reflected in the larger mask (though the nose is not as beak-like).

(OYL References, the dialogue in the second to last panel of the first reference is misattributed, in case you were confused as to why Tim is dissing his outfit and Dick is talking like Tim)

(Red Robin References)

(Robin References)

And obviously, I just put his "R" symbol on a circle and called it a day. Although I was clearly going off of memory instead of a direct reference, but whatever. Whatever. It fits better in a circle the way I did it. And a circle is a better buckle/clip than the oval, which was a deliberate choice. So. Anyway.

Notes (from top left to bottom right, grouped by what they're describing):

Shoulder Shot: "We're brining back his iconic 'R' from the 90's for 'Rook. (pointing to the R symbol)." "The cape can be rolled back to reveal some light shoulder armor that doesn't change his silhouette when the cape is down (pointing to his shoulder armor and the rolled back cape that is reminiscent of his over the shoulder "black with yellow" capes)." "Feather pattern that emulates Nightwing's arm/fingerstripes (pointing to the side of his arm)." "His elbow pads have the same shape as his kneepads for the skaterboy vibe. (pointing to the pads over his arms and knees)."

Sketch of harness: "Bandolier harness hides under the cape that clips into his insignia (pointing to the symbol in the center)." "Each space is a pouch (pointing to every area between the pointed ridges (which are hollow tubes with screw caps that can also hold things for maximum hammerspace))."

The detailed shot of the mask: "The face mask is partial emotive with white lenses that have thermal and night-vision (next to the white eyes)." "The foil layer of the mask can peel off unless actively held when the mask is lifted, and cling to his skin with a static charge that makes it almost impossible to peel from his skin (pointing to the teal circuit bit that is lifted from the pointy bit of the mask (the circuits are water/sweat proof, don't worry))." "There are dozens of magnetic locks that have to hit in the right on/off pattern to life all layers of the mask. Each finger in his gloves can have an active magnetic charge, so there are over a thousand combinations (pointing to the foil layer and the inside of the mask)."

The sketches of the mask lowered and raised: "The back of the mask is made of interlocking combs that seal together with metal locks to avoid it coming off unintended (pointing to the back of the raised mask)." "Durable, flexible rubber-like material (pointing to the sides of the mask, back, and the expanding fan like section that allows it to raise while still being one-piece and the top of the mask that would roll against his forehead)." "The mask can be lifted up when the locks are undone (pointing to the raised and lowered mask and the expanding accordion like structure)."

The sketch of a side profile of his head with his bangs and face half there: "Where does the mask end and his hair begin? Like Kujo Jotaro's cap, the world may never know (pointing to the back of his head where the black mask and black hair would blend together)." "The back of the mask combs through his hair and the top layers of his hair cover it (providing an actual answer)." "The nose of the mask has padding that protects his nose from breaks and conceals the shape of his nose and cheeks (next to his nose, which is half covered by the mask)."

[ficandkaboodle]

Remembering Copia used to have some damn thick sideburns makes me want to bite him and shake him around like my favorite chew toy

[crescenthistory]

hi angel!!!! absolutely adore your blog and especially the way you write for regulus 🥹🥹 makes my heart so happy, like that’s baby boy!!!! thank you so much for sharing with us!!! i have a prompt request but only if you feel so inclined!!! number d8 “where is she?" with regulus, pretty please, like maybe something happens to reader and he is the last to find out (busy w quidditch or prefer things) so when someone finally tracks him down being like your girl needs you, his composure is for once non existent and he is panicking!!!! ughhh hurt/comfort with reg is everything!!! anyway only if you feel my up to my love no pressure ever - love your blog regardless 💗💗💗

hi my love<33 this is hands down the sweetest request i have received, thank you so much for being so kind 🤍🤍 i genuinely appreciate your words so much! as for the request, i adore some hurt/comfort with reg, and this is an idea i've had for a while, so it was so fun to write

Prompt: D.8 "Where is she?"

Words: 6k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, severe injury (happens off screen, explained and treated on screen), lacerations, typical regulus anxiety (overworked), best friends to lovers, pomfrey being a badass, snape is a villain, animal abuse (technically), background marlene, rosekiller, etc.

It was common knowledge that Slytherin quidditch practice was never to be disturbed, especially this close to the final match of the season against Gryffindor.

This was Regulus’ first year as captain and he was determined for it to be written in the history books as a victorious one, to make himself deserving of the title. Playing opposite his brother and his best friends didn’t lessen the pressure much, either. 

He knew he had been pushing the team quite hard, but he also knew that if anyone could handle it, it was them. Evan and Barty funnelled all their chaotic energy into quidditch once they realised just how much it mattered for their mate, and Dorcas had just as much to gain from winning against Marlene as Regulus had against Sirius. Fenwick had had his skull bashed in by enough bludgers in his career to not be able to formulate any complaints, even if he had them. The rest of the team were relatively young players, a risk most others had chastised Regulus for taking, but one that was playing off beautifully – and with those rumours, they wanted to prove themselves, too. 

There really was little problem with this arrangement, he told himself, other than the fact that he was perhaps wearing himself a bit thin when balancing it all with his prefect duties and exams.

And, more importantly, missing you.

You had been the best friend he could have asked for during this hectic year of his, always standing by his side, just as much of a loyal team-player as those on his actual sports team. That unwavering dedication you had shown him over the years that taught him that maybe, just maybe, he was capable of being loved – and most definitely of loving, because Regulus would be damned if he didn’t admit that that was the only appropriate word for how he felt about you.

Not that he had told you that yet, though, and neither had you. It was never the right time, and you both knew, at least to some degree. For now, it was enough. You had each other, always, and it was enough. He told himself as much, at least.

Regulus was trying to zero his thoughts back on his team running through their plays off-broom on the ground, looking for any weakness in their formation, when the cardinal rule of not disturbing practice was broken.

“Black!” A voice shouted as it ran across the pitch from the school. 

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the pestering fourth year away, one of those who just seemed to always be there, nameless and bothersome. It was to little avail, though, judging by the sounds of his heavy steps hitting the still somewhat moist dirt on the field.

“Black, I have to–”

“We are in the middle of a practice!” Regulus cut the kid off, letting his nerves get the better of him as he saw most of his players stop in the midst of what had been their best run-through so far. “Unless someone has died, it can wait.”

“But–”

“Has someone died?” Regulus had his hands on his hips, half aware that he looked way too much like his older brother as he regarded the student-shaped owl in front of him with derision. 

“No, but–”

“Are someone in the midst of dying? Like within the hour?”

“N– no.”

“Then you may leave.” The student looked thoroughly confused, clearly not having been properly warned by whoever sent him as a make-shift owl that this was the only response he would be getting from Regulus. He could vaguely hear you whispering poor boy in his mind, always advocating for Regulus’ softer side, but right now he pushed it away as he turned back to his teammates. “Whatever it is will still be there when we are finished up here.”

Regulus didn’t wait for him to go before he began to pretend he was air, attention fully on his team once more.

Barty snickered as he tried to lean his chin on Evan’s shoulder, only to have the taller boy fully shove him off. Regulus shook his head, ignoring the crestfallen student beside him as he tried to increase his energy levels back to where they needed to be.

“Okay, that last round was getting closer to where we want to be. Ready to take to the sky for the last few minutes?”

When he finally stepped foot inside the quidditch locker rooms, Regulus sped through his shower routine. He was eager to get out of there and back to the dorms quick enough to have sufficient time to spend with you before going to sleep. He had half a mind to ask you to sleep in his bed tonight, but he wondered if that might be pushing it since you just did that a few nights ago. Nothing ever happened, of course, you were just the best of friends – and even if you had been something more, it was hard for anything to happen with Evan and Barty in the same room.

You just brought him a sense of peace he found himself craving more day by day. He wished to squeeze out every ounce of it he possibly could.

His hair was still wet, bag thrown about as haphazardly over his shoulder as he could allow himself to without spiralling – which is to say, he still looked perfectly polished to anyone but him. He turned to give the team lingering behind an attempt at an emphatic great work today that ended up falling a bit short from his hoarse voice. Thankfully, everyone else seemed tired enough to accept it without reservation, and Regulus could exit the changing room before all but running towards the Slytherin dorms. 

On his way there, he passed through the Great Hall, attempting to slow his stride to look a bit more composed, but quite ready to throw all of it away for the night just to curl up with you.

“Re- Regulus?!”

Sirius’ incredulous voice sounded behind him, and though Regulus loved his brother dearly, he took a deep sigh at the disturbance, knowing that, with him, it would likely not be a short one.

“That would be me.” Regulus turned around with a sarcastic half-smile, only for it to waver when he saw the expression on Sirius’ face. 

There was an evident tension in his face when he looked Regulus up and down, as if trying to figure him out while a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Sirius’ lips were pressed tight, as if holding back a severe frown and his eyes were decidedly clouded with worry.

“Reg, what are you doing here?” His voice conveyed more confusion than upset, but both were woven into his tone.

“I’m… on my way to Slytherin? We just finished practice.” 

It was as if Sirius found an answer to his confusion as his face settled into a form of defeat. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Regulus stared his brother down, heart speeding up in his chest, but he could feel it in his whole body. “What is it, Siri?”

“James sent someone to tell you,” Sirius says, speaking more to himself.

“Tell me what?” Regulus’ patience was worn thin by his pulse straining his skin.

“Uh, it’s Y/N.” Pangs shot through his body, pulling every vein taut. “She– she will be fine, don’t worry, but–”

“Where is she?”

Regulus struggled to make out where Sirius stood in front of him as the world seemed to tunnel around him and his mind was immediately elsewhere, immediately with his best girl, imagining any possible horror that might have overcome you. Had it not been for Sirius’ delivery of the news and the way he looked at Regulus, he might have felt more calm. But he had always known his big brother to be more composed than this.

“The infirmary–”

He didn’t need to hear more before he was running at full speed down the hallway.

Little to nothing registered with Regulus on the way to the infirmary, that he for the first time in his life realised was located painfully far away from the Great Hall. Illogical, given how many students go through there throughout their days. 

He felt lighter than ever as he was entirely certain he had never run this quickly in his life, simultaneously as every limb felt heavy with worry. 

She will be fine is only reassuring if he was concerned you had died – in every other scenario it is the worst thing to hear, because it confidently means you are not fine right now.

Regulus is half aware that he has run through two ghosts, into one student and past a professor – he thinks maybe Flitwick? – but he paid none of them any mind, willing to take the point deductions or even detentions, if only they don’t slow him down. He can deal with everything and anything else later. 

When he finally reached the door to the infirmary, it took everything in him to come to a halt. 

He all but crashed into the door, catching himself with one hand on the doorframe as he breathed heavy, giving himself but two seconds to collect himself, lest he be banned from the infirmary by life by Madam Pomfrey. That was not something he could afford right now.

Still heaving, he opened the door and took two steps inside – before his vision became entirely swamped by that very same woman, standing with her hands on her hips.

“Is she here?” He tried to get out before she could say anything.

“No visitors at the moment,” Madam Pomfrey said sternly.

“Please, is she here?” Regulus couldn’t even think to say your name, but the look on the matron’s face told him she knew.

“She is, and she is alright, but there will be no visitors at the moment.” Her voice was a bit softer now, but she was not relenting and she was not moving.

Regulus’ breath picked back up, and he didn’t register the tears that were forming in his eyes. A choked please was forming on his tongue when–

“Please.”

You beat him to it. Your meek voice sounded from a few curtains down behind Madam Pomfrey. Regulus didn’t hear the noise that escaped him when he heard the soft pain in your usually chipper voice, but the matron did. Still, it seemed to be on your account and not the lovestruck, fear-sickened boy in front of her, that she took a step to the side.

“Only you, and it must be brief.”

Her words were mostly caught by the air that Regulus left in his wake the moment she moved to the side, because as soon as he could he was by the curtain he had heard you speak from behind, ever so gently pulling it to the side.

“Oh, mon amour.”

The sight he was faced with both mended and broke his heart – because you were there, awake and already looking at him, but your forehead and right arms were bandaged and your face bore telltale signs of pain. He could see tear tracks down your delicate cheeks, mascara smudging just barely beneath your eyes. You looked happy to see him, he could see your chest heave a breath of relief, but that was about the only positive thing he could decipher in you at the moment.

At last, his movements were measured and careful again, but for once not for the sake of how he was perceived, but rather to not disturb the space around you, as if that could lessen your pain. He barely managed to close the curtain behind him with trembling hands, giving you a semblance of privacy, even in this infirmary that he had no idea hosted how many others.

There was enough space on the left side of the bed beside you for Regulus to take his rightful place by your side, as close as he dared. His eyes kept jumping all over your body and face, breath hitched.

Your name escaped his lips in a small breath as his eyes widely roamed your form.

He didn’t realise his hand was hovering between you before you reached up to him with your left hand and took it in yours. Your grip was weak and the tips of your fingers cold, but it was still the smooth skin he was used to feeling on his.

Upon your touch, he seemed to be brought back down to earth and the welling tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Oh, Reggie,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, I’m alright.”

“My poor love,” he whispered back, letting his free hand move up to lightly caress your cheek, brushing some damp hair away. It must have gotten wet when Pomfrey tended to whatever wound was bandaged on your upper forehead. “What happened to you, amour?”

Regulus often referred to you with terms of endearment, you knew you were each other’s person, but the absolute softness of them now broke your heart a little.

“It was…” you trailed off, wincing as you scrunched your brows in confusion and consequently pulled on your bandage. “It was an accident.” The sound that escaped you was almost a laugh, but it was too wet and strangled to truly be classified as such.

“What happened?” Regulus’ voice urged, more desperate than before. He held your hand tighter, bringing it closer to his chest, as if to protect it.

“We were helping Kettleburn – unwillingly mind you –”

“Who are we?” Regulus cuts you off, still seeming rather feverish in his desperation to know what was wrong. You squeezed his hand and smiled at him to calm him down. 

“An unfortunate bunch of us who happened to be enjoying the fresh air by the benches. Me, Lily, Marlene, Snape, Avery and some others we don’t really know too well, mostly fourth years.”

Regulus scowled at the mention of Snape and Avery, but nodded, as if encouraging you to continue.

“Kettleburn needed some help preparing bait. He believed there was a hippogriff in the Forbidden Forest that he wanted to draw out. It worked a bit too well, a bit too well.”

His brows scrunched at that. “But hippogriffs are mainly peaceful unless you disturb them?” Unease was growing in his stomach.

“Yes, that’s what I said as well,” you feel a bout of dizziness come over you, but try and speak through it. “We were down, probably a bit too close to the forest when it came out. I tried to push the bait towards it carefully, keeping my distance. It just wanted food, you know.”

“But?”

“But Snape and Avery freaked. When it took a step closer, just to eat – they let curses fly, kneejerk self defence reaction they said.”

Regulus had to be mindful to not hurt your hand as his fists clenched on reflex. He settled for holding the sheets beside him disturbingly hard instead – he had already pieced together what happened. “You were still in the line of fire,” he concluded, eyes darkening.

“Yes,” you whispered weakly. “It would have been fine, if it had only been a stupefy or something, but Snape shouted something else, some freak hex. It was like being slashed with a knife all over.”

Regulus’ breath hitched as he let his eyes travel from gauze to gauze. His fingers came up to linger near a particularly large bandage that travelled from your shoulder in under your hospital gown. “All over?” His voice was a mere whisper before he finally looked in your eyes again. He found them teary, and his heart clenched painfully.

“Yeah, I– The biggest one is across my stomach. Pomfrey has patched me up nicely, but it was, uh, it wasn’t good.”

He can’t fight the new tears that spill as he whispers my girl before carefully shuffling closer to you to give you a hug, or at least as close to one you could get right now. His cheek is pressed into yours, his hand on the back of your head, and you can hear him cry directly into your ear, drawing tears from you as well. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into you. “So sorry, amour.”

“Reggie, there was nothing you could do,” you try to look at him, but his grip on your head remains steadfast.

“No, I should have been there. I’m so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your upper cheek, and his lips are wet. “I should’ve been there.”

“Reg, there was no way anyone could have known.”

He pulls back slightly, looking you over to see if he was hurting you before settling in with his forehead against yours – making sure to avoid the wound in the top left. When his eyes look into yours, you feel a sense of calm finally wash over your body that had been riddled by the shock of being torn open. A grey safe haven.

“I’m sorry, amour.” He keeps saying it like a prayer.

You try to shake your head, but wince at the action. His hand immediately shoots up to your jaw, to still your head. Protecting you, even from yourself. “You’re not allowed to be sorry, Reg, you didn’t do anything. You can only feel sorry for me, which isn’t quite that hard. I look pathetic right now.”

Your half-hearted attempt at humour doesn’t seem to drag him from his despair as his eyes keep searching your face, flitting from the tears to the deviating makeup. His thumb, ever so carefully, drags under your eye to wipe away some of the mascara there. You lean into his touch.

“They tried to tell me, but I– I didn’t know, so I didn’t listen and–”

“You were at quidditch practice,” you cut him off. “Everyone knows you can’t be disturbed then.”

Regulus looked at you incredulously. “This is disturb-worthy, you – anything with you is always the biggest priority. I’m sorry.”

“One girl versus preparing for the match of your life? Hm, I think it’s good you weren’t distracted.” You are determined to lighten his mood, the sinch of his eyebrows and worry in his eyes were beginning to make you feel sick for him.

“But you’re my girl,” he says in a low voice, stressing the words as if to pour additional meaning. “You’re my best friend, my everything. Y/N, you are everything.”

You struggle to come up with a response to that. Any mask Regulus switches between is completely discarded in this small infirmary section with you. When he holds your face and looks at you, you know what it is.

Unable to speak over the lump in your throat, you just drag his face closer to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, as always.

Except this time, while your lips linger on his cheek, Regulus uses his hand still on your jaw to angle your face towards his. With your lips millimetres apart, he looks from them to your eyes, searching for something, and then back down. He whispers another soft everything before pressing his lips to yours.

For all the times you had thought of kissing Regulus, nothing compared. You never expected there to be salty from tears, you never imagined his scent in your nose to be swirled with the disinfectant covering everything around you – but he was right, it was everything. His lips were unbelievably soft against yours, even as he pushed himself even closer to you, as if he needed you underneath his skin, not just on top of it. The pinky underneath your jaw digs into your skin, and you can feel your pulse beat against his finger.

When Regulus pulls away, your mouths are still essentially connected, slightly parted, just breathing into each other. You open your eyes and find him looking at you with nothing short of love.

“I–”

“I love you.” You cut him off, smiling a bit as he half feigns indignance before it turns soft once more.

“I love you, belle fille.”

“I know.”

Finally, finally he gives you a genuine smile. It eases your nerves more than even his eyes could, and you feel yourself melting back into your pillow. Unfortunately, comfort makes you even more aware of the pain and soreness in your body, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, mostly to himself it seems.

“I won’t allow that.” You tug your intertwined hands closer to you, wanting to share the comfort with him. “I’m alright, Reggie.”

“You’re wounded and bandaged.”

“And I’m perfectly okay.”

He gives you an as if look, but it’s good enough for you, for now. Then his face twisted into something darker and you saw the same desperation from earlier bubbling to the surface.

“What happened to Snape? And Avery?” His hold on you is still soft and caring, but the rest of his body has grown stiff, mind racing with imagined visions of what went down and of what he would do with them in return.

“Nothing yet,” you said with a careful, measured voice. “Kettleburn wanted to ease the situation first, but since it was technically his fault for bringing us along unprompted, I’m not sure what would be done. Detention maybe?”

“Yeah, Kettleburn’s an idiot for that, but Snape was the one who used an unorthodox and probably dark hex. He has to be dealt with.”

Though you don’t condone how fast some of your friends resorted to revenge and violence, even you had to admit that the idea of Snape knowing magic like that didn’t sit right with you either. There was no situation you could imagine where a slasher spell like that would be moral in combat. 

“I’m sure they will deal with him tomorrow,” you settle on. “Tonight the main priority seemed to be making sure I don’t bleed out on the grounds.”

Regulus’ look was pained as he pressed his lips together. “How did you get in after that anyway?”

“I don’t remember too well.” You truly didn’t, and the flashes that went through your mind were not ones Regulus would be better off knowing about. “Kettleburn shushed the Hippogriff back into the forest – it thankfully didn’t get severely injured it seemed – while everyone else panicked. Lily and Marlene were the first ones by my side.”

You both smile absentmindedly at that. When you first befriended Lily through your study sessions at the library, Regulus had been unsure of how to approach your joint integration into his brother’s friend group, but the girls had turned out to be some of the best friends you could have asked for. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, almost straddling Regulus. “Almost forgot, but you’ll be happy to know that Marlene suckerpunched Snape before they brought me inside with a levitation spell. Pretty gnarly punch, too.”

Regulus’ smiled seemed to be less from gratification and more from endearment from you. “I think I’d like to see Snape get a little more than a punch for what he did to you. But that’s a great start, darling.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “It’s a start. And again, we can deal with all of that tomorrow. I don’t have the energy today.”

“No, no, you are the only priority right now, amour.” Any mirth slipped from his face as he studied you concernedly once more.

“I know you’re “alright”, but you’re not alright” he started. “Could you tell me where it hurt the most?” He looks over you again, as if he can map you out and fight your pain off, spot by spot.

“My stomach and chest got it worst,” you admit. “It’s growing more sore, but Madam said I could get more pain relief in just a little while.”

“Well, she also said I could only stay here for a short while,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking towards the curtain as if he expected it to be ripped back any minute. “Pretty sure we’re way past that.”

“Maybe she heard us crying like babies over a non-fatal injury and figured it was less of a hassle to leave us to it.” You squeeze Regulus’ thigh with a grin and he bites back a yelp.

“She would be wise to do so. Especially because there’s no bloody way I’m leaving.”

You don’t say much to that because you really, really don’t want him to either. You know you are fine, and for his sake you try and seem even more assured of it, but the white panic that soared through your veins those first few minutes is hard to shake. Even though you don’t want him to hold his absence against himself, you don’t like the thought of him leaving now that he was there.

“Has she said anything about a treatment plan? How long you’ll be here? She said you’re fine, so it shouldn’t be too long right?” Though Regulus looks at you as he asks his questions, you know he is already trying to piece together probable answers in his head.

“Most of our first conversation was her narrating what she was doing while I was moaning and not listening.” Your comment was off-handed, but Regulus seemed to wince at the image it painted in his head. “Sorry,” you mumbled bashfully, but he just gave you a smile.”

“Good thing I have the memory of an elephant, then.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice sounded just seconds before she ripped the curtain back and stepped into your little bubble. 

Regulus went straight into autopilot, rightening his posture and schooling his expression. You squeezed his hand tighter, so that he couldn’t pull away, but that had not even been any option in his mind. Pomfrey went through the station beside you at the speed of light, way too familiar and comfortable with these procedures.

“Miss L/N had 5 deep lacerations and several shallow ones,” she begins to recite and Regulus hangs onto every word. “The shallow wounds are almost entirely gone from the treatment already, but the more severe ones will need time to recover. She will have to stay in the infirmary overnight today and tomorrow for observation and continue to receive some medication. Among those are pain potions and salves for the wounds. Rebandage every 10 hours and apply new salves.”

“How will that affect her?” Regulus asked, probably pushing his luck with the matron.

“The pain potions will make her a bit slow and groggy, but she will still be awake. Though she should sleep.” At that she gives you a curt look over her shoulder. “The healing process for the wounds will likely be itchy and uncomfortable and she may develop a fever. We will pay particularly close attention to the stomach wounds in case she develops any infections there.”

“What are the symptoms of infections like that?”

You try and pat Regulus’ leg to say down, boy, but he doesn’t give you the time of day, instead focusing fully on any and all information the matron is willing to share with him. You had half a mind to joke that this was private medical information, but let it be.

Madam Pomfrey turns to Regulus at his fourth question, putting her hands on her hips as she measured him closely. It seemed like she decided on something and the next second she exited through the curtains again. You and Regulus barely had time to exchange a glance before she came back and threw a white coat at Regulus who catched it bewilderedly.

“Seems like I’ve got myself an assistant for the remainder of her stay, haven’t I, Mr. Black?”

A slow smile spreads across Regulus’ face before he hurries on the coat. “Yes, Madam.”

Pomfrey talks you – and now, Regulus – through the new pain potion she is about to give you, giving brief background on the ingredients, application and effect when the door to the infirmary slams open, decidedly louder than when Regulus entered earlier. Her eyes squeeze shut, as if pained by the disrespect and incredulity of students, but finished giving you the potion.

“That is no way to enter an infirmary, Mr. Crouch,” she says through half-gritted teeth as she works. She waves at Regulus to open the curtain to your bed, revealing Barty, Evan and Dorcas, all heaving as if they have been running too. “You seem to be particularly loved, Miss L/N. Please never get injured again, it disturbs my workspace.”

Your friends’ eyes are wide as they take in your form where you lay, still rather pathetically, in your bed. 

“Merlin’s tits, what happened?” Dorcas asks.

At the same time Barty’s gaze flits between you and Regulus. “Who?” he asks, while looking at you.

“I–” you start, but that was clearly the wrong answer because he then immediately turns to Regulus instead.

“Who?”

There is no hesitation in Regulus’ voice. “Snape.”

Barty’s face morphs from shock and concern into pure determination. He stalks over to you in three wide steps, pressing a quick kiss to the safe side of your forehead, whispering a quiet take care, Treasure, before turning around and dragging Evan out of the infirmary. The other boy’s jaw was ticked shut and went more than willingly.

Even you felt a bit bad for Snape in that moment.

Madam Pomfrey, however, only breathed a sigh of relief that they left so quickly.

Dorcas comes up between you and Regulus, sitting on the very edge of your bed. Pomfrey, with Regulus’ assistance return to the work on your bedside station, though his eyes are on you almost the whole time. He has that furrow between his brows that shows up whenever he focuses intently, and you are torn between wanting to kiss it and draw it.

“We met Marls and Lily in the hallway,” Dorcas explains. “They got halfway through their story before Junior took off with us on leash behind us.”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh, trying to hide how the rumble hurts you. “But really, I’m totally fine. Or, I’m relatively good, and will soon be alright.”

“Yeah, especially when you’ve got two nurses to tend to you,” Dorcas teases, casting Regulus a knowing sideways glance.

“Pardon you, Miss Meadows; I am a Healer.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. Despite never wanting to return to this infirmary, you had grown quite fond of the Madam.

“My deepest apologies, Madam,” Dorcas offered with a gleam in her eyes. You could have sworn you saw Pomfrey smile ever so slightly.

“But yeah, Dorc, I’m well taken care of. I’ll be fine.”

“Firstly, just because you’re wounded does not mean you can get away with calling me that.” You laugh once more, happy to not be treated like a dying animal even in such a grave hour. “Secondly, I’m glad. You deserve it, and it was about damn time.”

You pretend to not understand what the last part referred to, but you knew she got you all figured out. You squeeze her leg in a sign of admiration and, perhaps, defeat.

“Thirdly,” Regulus interjects. “You need to either not make her laugh or leave.”

Pomfrey nodded emphatically. 

“Not my fault your girl just finds me absolutely hilarious, Black.” Dorcas winks at you.

“Speaking of someone’s girl,” you drawl, trying to even the playing field, which worked, if Dorcas’ light blush was anything to go off of. “Please tell Marlene I say thank you. I don’t think I got to in the whirl of everything and then everyone was thrown out.”

Dorcas’ smile softens. “I will, babe, but you don’t have to thank her. She’s still a bit worried though, so I’ll tell everyone you’re doing fine.”

“Thanks,” you whisper through a smile, accepting Dorcas’ half-hug before she slips out of the infirmary, which finally returns to its prior quietude.

“That’s enough visitors for today!” Pomfrey explains, clapping her hands together as she is done. “Only staff and patients for the rest of the night.” She shoots Regulus and his white coat a knowing glance.

“Does that mean I can sleep?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so meek, but the pain potion is starting to work, and the more your body relaxes, the more exhausted you realise you are.

Regulus makes a soft cooing sign, coming back to sit on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his and drawing comforting circles on its back. “Yes, amour. We have prepared the station for when we have to wake you in a few hours for reapplication.”

You groan a bit at the thought of being woken, and both your matron and her assistant laugh a bit at you. 

“Better that than affection, Miss L/N.”

“Yes, of course,” you relent, letting out a heavy sigh. “Thank you. For all of it.”

Pomfrey merely nods before gathering her things and exiting into the rest of the infirmary, pulling your curtain shut behind you. You expect that is the closest she usually gets to a you’re welcome and you accept it heartily.

Regulus shifts into a more comfortable position beside you, back against your headboard, ensuring you are as comfortable and pain-free as possible. He brings your intertwined fingers up to his lips to press delicate butterfly kisses to them. The softness of it all makes you almost want to cry again, but you bite it back, purely because you can’t stand seeing Regulus cry again tonight, and you knew he would.

“Congratulations on your promotion.” Your tire does not hide the coyness of your tone and he smiles fondly at you.

“Thank you. Think she figured it was easier that way – and I have always been a top student.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and your OWLs.” You turn your head more towards him, smiling. “Such a nerd.”

“I reckon you like that about me.”

“I reckon the same.”

You lean forward and he meets you halfway for a slow kiss. The casualness of it makes it feel all the more important, especially when the past few hours of your life has been anything but.

He leans his head onto yours, drawing you as close as he can with your current circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers again and you shake your head beneath his. Before you can tell him no, he continues. “Not just for what happened to you or not being there. Just, I don’t know. Being slow.”

“Didn’t we just agree you were bright?” you tease, but when you turn to see the sincerity in his eyes, you soften. “It’s okay, Regulus. We were both slow.”

Neither of you feel compelled to delve into the details of it, and it makes you feel more at ease. Even with everything, this was just how it was supposed to be.

“I’m glad I have you.” It is the best way to summarise it; it was enough. He smiles warmly at you.

“And I you.” 

You ignore the strain of some of your bandages as you lean closer to kiss him again, where he meets you enthusiastically – it was worth it.

“Go to sleep now, amour. I’ll be here to ease you awake when the time comes. I’ll always be here.”

And he was.

[gravehags]

desinare

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

Rating: Teen

Tags: awwww look it's a pre-relationship fic just like old times, dinner party, reader meeting the papas, reader and copia being awkward little weirdos with baby crushes, papa nihil slander, references to other curator reader fics

Words: 3,784

Summary: Your very kind cardinal friend has invited you for a meal with three Satanic popes. Surely there's a proverb about this.

a/n: i had so so so much fun writing this lmao i didn't realize how much i missed writing them pre-relationship. my beloved nerds.

~~~

“Eh, signorina?”

“Fuck!” you yelp, dropping the stack of folders you were holding in shock. “Shit…sorry Cardinal. How do you move so quietly with all that fabric on?”

“M-many years of practice, heh,” he kicks himself for how stupid he sounds, wringing his hands while you smile kindly up at him as you stoop to pick up your papers.

“Teach me how some time? I’m always falling over myself. I’d love to have even an ounce of your grace.”

He can feel his ears burn as a dopey grin spreads across his face. She complimented you. Now compliment her back. Go on, say something charming, idiota.

“Dancing!” he half-shouts, making you jump. You fucking fool. “I…I mean I learned how…how to be graceful from dancing. Ballet. In my youth.”

You’re making an impressed face now which is worlds better from the look of terror you previously wore when he barked at you like a senile chihuahua.

“The Cardinal is a dancer?” you murmur, eyes glittering, “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Oh, it’s been years,” he blushes, “this old body doesn’t move the way it used to.”

He swears he sees your eyes flick up and down his form and a tiny smirk lift your lips.

“I don’t buy that for a second, Cardinal.”

Are you flirting with him? You turn to busy herself with organizing your folders but Copia can see the pink tinge at the tips of your ears.

“Do you like bolognese?” he says, once again loud and blunt. 

“I…what?”

“My…my fratelli and I - the Papas that is - would very much like to meet you. A-and share a meal with you. If you are interested?”

Your mouth forms a little “o”.

“There’s more than one Papa?” you ask, cocking your head. 

“Sì, sì, there is also eh, Papa Emeritus I and Papa Emeritus II, known as Primo and Secondo, respectively. Terzo you already know,” he grumbles, and your lips twitch.

“Three Satanic popes and a Cardinal. Wow…life sure comes at you fast, huh? Never expected this from a job offer.”

“So…is that a yes?”

“No,” you say and Copia’s face falls, “I mean - shit - sorry! A no about the bolognese. I don’t eat red meat. But a definite yes for the dinner, I’d love to meet some more people here! You’re very kind to have invited me.”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, but a smile still curls his lips, “We don’t get pretty new faces around here very often. It would be our pleasure.”

It doesn’t dawn on him what he said until he sees your lips silently form the damning word and your cheeks light up. Shit, why couldn’t he be normal around you?

“Anyway,” he says, his voice going up a humiliating octave, “would you be available this week? Friday evening, perhaps?”

“It’s a date. I mean–” you look as panicked as he feels at your wording, “--a dinner date. W-with your…with the Papas. And yourself. Sorry, where should I meet you? I’m uh, still familiarizing myself with the abbey. This place is huge.”

“Eh, how about I meet you at your office and I’ll lead the way from there, sì?”

“Sì. I mean, yes. Is there a…should I dress a certain way?”

An image is conjured in his mind of you in a pretty cocktail dress, heels lifting your shapely calves and your decolletage on display—

He shakes his head to rid himself of the vision.

“Uh…dress in whatever is most comfortable. Undoubtedly Secondo will put you to work in the kitchen so–”

“Oh good,” you say, “I mean my culinary talents are uh…definitely lacking but I’d be happy to help and keep busy. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, and all that. Well…something like that anyway, I’m not sure if there’s a Satanic version. Anyway I am definitely blabbering on so feel free to ignore…literally everything that just came out of my mouth.”

You’re embarrassed. As if he couldn’t listen to you talk and talk and talk for eternity. He’s about to tell you something to that effect before his brain yanks him away. Bit much for only knowing her a month, fool. Instead he gives you a friendly nod, and bows slightly.

“I’ll eh, see you Friday then yes? At 6:00?”

“Sounds perfect. And…thank you. I don’t remember if I said it or not but thank you for making this place feel like home.”

He feels as if his heart is about to burst from his ribcage.

“Signorina,” he murmurs, “it is my honor. Ciao.”

“Ciao, Cardinal,” you say softly as he turns and exits your office. He doesn’t see the way you collapse into your desk chair with a dreamy sigh.

—

You’re going to be late.

As soon as your work day ended you hustled up to your apartment and began getting ready but it’s now 5:41 and you still have no idea what the fuck you’re going to wear. Half your wardrobe lies scattered on your bedroom floor (you know it’s going to make you insane when you return later that night but fuck you can’t remember what clothes you even own) as you stand in the center of the room in your underwear.

“Okay. Okay you’re going to meet three Satanic popes,” the sentence has a delirious laugh bubbling out of your throat. “Three Satanic popes and one…sweet…handsome…Cardinal. What is the correct choice.”

You eye a snug, knee length burgundy velvet cocktail dress to your left. You’ve been saving this one for a while - for a real special occasion. You would undoubtedly impress but…nah. Too much. To your right is a pair of mom jeans - you pick them up and give them a tentative sniff - acceptably clean. You toss the jeans onto your bed behind you. Okay now for a top. How about…ah! You spy a soft, dark green sweater in a pile and snatch it up. Cozy, comfortable, and practical. Perfect. As for shoes…your well-loved black Chelsea boots should do the trick. You look down at your watch.

5:48

Shit! Almost tripping more than once you jump into your jeans and pull the sweater over your head, tucking it halfway into your waistband. You don’t have the time or the patience to put any makeup on beyond a few swipes of mascara and a dark red lipstick and when you make it out the door with your phone and keys, it’s five to six. You briskly power walk the entire trip to your office and by the time you’re standing outside the door, you’re clutching your side and heaving for breath. You pray to whoever is listening that the Cardinal is a little late so you have a chance to compose yourself but before you can even form the thought–

“Signorina?”

You spin on the spot, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Cardinal!” you rasp. “Uh…hi.”

“You look lovely,” he says with an anxious little smile that gives you butterflies, “you’re glowing, signorina.”

“Thanks, it’s the sweat.”

You ought to be taken out back and shot like Old Yeller.

To your immense relief, he doesn’t look disgusted but instead seems to relax as if your odd faux-pas cuts the tension. Chortling, he gestures for you to follow him with a gloved hand.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask, as the two of you proceed down the hall.

“You’ll have to ask Secondo that, I have no idea what the maestro has planned for us this evening.”

“Sounds ominous,” you smile.

“Eh, sì. He is.”

Oh God.

“Your week has gone well?” Copia asks, adeptly changing the subject.

“Yes, just you know. Trying to make sense of everything von Schreck left me with. Can’t help but feel his presence looming over me whenever I change something he did. Did you know him well?”

“Not well, no. He was a quiet man, kept to himself. His eh, mind started to go, in the end. Became paranoid.”

“Ah. Explains his cataloging system then. If you can call it that.”

You realize you’re now in a wing of the abbey you’ve never seen before - a long hallway with a dark red rug running the length of it and arched doors. Copia stops at one that is open and gestures inside with a nervous smile.

It’s a kitchen. A very large, very well equipped kitchen with a massive island and high ceilings. There are three men standing inside it - you recognize one of them and the other two are staring in your direction. The tallest (and from what you can tell, the oldest) has a soft smile on his face. The other is also tall but broad where the older figure was slim, the overhead light glinting off his bald head. Terzo hops down off the counter, swirling a glass of wine and grinning. You’re suddenly aware of four pairs of the same mismatched eyes boring into you.

“Uh. Hi.”

The three Papas are on you like flies on honey in a snap, pulling you into the warmth of the kitchen while Copia removes his black biretta and wrings his gloved hands. With a shaky voice he introduces you to the two you are unfamiliar with and to Terzo he simply gives a hard stare.

“It’s an honor to meet all of you,” you murmur, smiling around the room, “Wow, three Satanic popes. I haven’t even met one uh…regular pope. Not to say you aren’t ‘regular’ or ‘normal’, of course. The Satanic versions are so much more interesting.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Do you drink?” the bald, mustachioed one - Secondo - asks.

“Please,” you sigh in relief. He gestures you over to the counter.

“What do you know about Italian wines, piccolina?”

Piccolina? You remind yourself to look that up whenever you manage to take a bathroom break.

“Uh, not much. That is to say…nothing.”

He smirks. You know immediately this man is a heartbreaker.

“I will teach you. This riserva is from the Ministry’s vineyards in Piedmont. Made from Nebbiolo grapes.” He pours you a generous glass which you swirl delicately in your hand before leaning in to sniff.

“Oh! I’m definitely getting…red fruits, perhaps cherries? Something mineral, like the way a damp cave smells. Hold on–”

You take a sip as Secondo watches you carefully.

“Wow that’s gorgeous,” you gush, “I didn’t smell the rose element but I definitely taste it. You said the Ministry made this?”

“Sì,” he nods, as he pours more into your glass, “I’m pleased you like it, you have excellent taste.”

“Oh, I really don’t,” you smile, “you’d cringe if I told you some of the swill I find acceptable. Particularly what I drank in college.”

He laughs loudly.

“What kind of self-respecting American college student drinks wine?”

“One from California, that’s what,” you smirk.

“Secondo stop hogging our guest,” Terzo calls from the other side of the room. “I want to see her pretty face.”

Secondo ushers you over to the small breakfast table where Copia sits with the other two Papas before leaving to fetch several wine glasses.

“Don’t you look bellissima tonight,” Terzo grins, and you blush as he gives you a very obvious once-over. That smile disappears though when he jerks violently, slamming his knee up under the table.

“Stronzino, that hurt,” he hisses at Copia, who has carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression. 

Huh. Wonder what that was all about.

You’re distracted by Primo softly saying your name and you turn to the older man with a smile.

“Are you enjoying life at the abbey so far?”

Ah. Well about that. You want to lie - to tell him everything has been smooth sailing but something about the way he looks at you instantly makes you want to be more candid.

“It’s um. It’s been…a lot,” you say, looking down into your wine glass, “The Cardinal is really the only one who speaks to me outside of Sister Imperator. I-I haven’t got out of my apartment much except to go to work. I’m a little self-conscious about exploring, to be honest.”

Primo gives you a gentle smile.

“Do you know where the greenhouses are, fiore mio?”

Fiore mio. Another one for the list.

“I think I know where the gardens are but I’m not sure if they’re nearby–”

“They are.” he says, “Sister Imperator…doesn’t have much use for an old relic like me. I spend my time tending to all that grows here. With some assistance from my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” you ask, cocking your head.

He smiles.

“Ah, you haven’t met any yet, have you? Well I won’t spoil the surprise. I’m sure the Cardinal would love to tell you about them some time. Anyway, all this to say…please come visit me when you have the opportunity, sì? Ah, that reminds me,” he gets up and walks through an adjacent doorway to what you assume is the dining room. When he returns, he’s bearing a bouquet of vibrant pink dahlias in a glass vase.

“Oh!” you say, setting down your wine glass as Primo places the flowers on the table in front of you.

“For you, cara. To welcome you.”

You’re squeezing the meat of your thigh as hard as you can under the table to keep from crying but the tears well up in your eyes all the same.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he reaches out to take your hand into his long, wizened one.

“Cazzo, are you making her cry, you old fuck?” Terzo grouses.

“Terzo!” Copia says with a sharpness you’ve never heard from him before. You’re not sure if it’s the wine but you’re definitely picking up on some tense vibes between the two of them.

“Uh, need help with dinner, Secondo?” you ask, trying to cut the awkwardness.

“Most of it is already finished but you are welcome to assist with the antipasti. Forgive the lack of aperitivo but someone forgot to pick up olives today.”

Secondo glares across the room at Copia, who turns beet red.

“That’s okay, I don’t like olives anyway,” you say cheerily. Primo groans.

“Ugh! Philistine!” Secondo snaps, making a sharp gesture, “Get over here and atone for your sins before I kick you out of my kitchen, piccolina.”

Now your face is red.

“Yes, Papa,” you murmur obediently as you rise from the table, missing the way the four men look at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Va bene,” Secondo says gruffly as you approach the island, leaning over to pour more wine in your glass, “Do you know how to toast bread?”

You give him a look.

“I think I can handle toast,” you scoff, setting down your glass. “Are we making bruschetta?” 

He favors you with a nod and a half-smile. A point in your favor.

“Here is the olive oil,” he says, gesturing to his left, “here is the balsamic. I have already diced the tomatoes and here,” he turns and opens the large refrigerator, coming back with a healthy amount of burrata, “is the cheese. Think you got it?”

“I…think so? Wait, do you have a grill for me to use or…”

He hands you a square metal pan with holes perforated in it.

“You’ve used a brustolina before?”

No, you have not used a brustolina before.

“How hard can it be? Don’t worry about me, please go sit down.”

He gives you one last sideway glance before snagging his wine glass off the table and joining his brothers. 

Ten minutes later, Terzo is standing on the breakfast table waving a rag in front of the aggressively beeping smoke detector as Copia looks as mortified as you feel.

“It’s alright, fiore mio,” Primo soothes as you sniffle, staring at the charred remains of what used to be several slices of sourdough bread.

“It’s toast. I cannot believe I actually fucked up toast.”

Copia scurries to your side and Primo steps away to make room. When your head thunks heavy against his shoulder he wraps an arm around you, making soothing noises. 

You don’t see Terzo thrusting violently into the air with a wide grin on his face, still standing on the table but you do see Secondo yank him down when he lets out an undignified squawk. The noise has you choking out a laugh, and you turn to Copia to see him staring down at you with a painfully soft expression.

“It’s nothing, piccolina,” Secondo says, unhanding his brother, “We didn’t need bruschetta anyway. Prometto. The real star is coming soon. Please–” he picks up your wine glass and gives you yet another generous pour, “--go take a seat. Enjoy the company of the Cardinal, and Primo, and my other idiot brother.”

You nod, accepting your glass.

“Sorry,” you murmur, and you feel Copia’s hand rub warm circles on the small of your back. You’d be willing to burn all the toast in the abbey if this is what you got out of it.

“It’s nothing, signorina, truly,” he says quietly in your ear, leading you back over to the table. Secondo efficiently dumps the cremated bread into the garbage and puts an apron over his head which reads “Osculari Coquum.” 

By the time Secondo tells the four of you to take your seats in the dining room you are…pleasantly tipsy and incredibly hungry. The smells coming from the kitchen are so decadent, you can feel yourself salivating. 

“Here we are,” Secondo says, entering the room with a loaded plate, which he places in front of you, “Pollo alla cacciatora con riso.”

You have to sit on your hands to keep from rudely digging in before the others have been delivered their meals but as soon as Secondo sits down, you’re ready to strike. Before you can, Primo speaks up.

“I would like to toast our lovely new friend. To your health and happiness. May you find a home here amongst us. Benvenuta nostra sorella. Ave Sathanas.”

Sorella. The word sounds familiar, as if you’ve heard it in the abbey halls before. It makes a warmth bloom in your chest that you’re certain cannot be attributed solely to the wine.

“Grazie mille,” you murmur with a smile. “Thank you all for having me this evening, I appreciate it more than you know.”

Copia’s hand, resting next to yours on the table, twitches and ever-so-slightly his gloved pinkie finger brushes against yours. You look at him out of the corner of your eye but he’s staring diligently down at his plate, mustache twitching as he fights to smile. The sight makes your heart thud in your chest. It’s as if the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to everyone else despite the fact that neither of you openly acknowledge the other. It’s a breathtaking feeling and you wish you could put your finger on what is so special about this peculiar man.

“Bella, if you don’t eat that I’m going to eat it for you.”

Terzo is staring at you from across the table, mouth full of chicken cacciatore. The whole room, in fact, is staring at you.

“Shit! Right! Sorry I was…I don’t know where I was. Hmm.”

The four men once again exchange a look as you politely dig into your chicken and rice. It’s divine, as you knew it would be. The conversation flows wonderfully, the Papas all eagerly explaining the Ghost project to you.

“So you are all part of the same band?”

“We each had our terms,” Primo explains, “I was the first, Secondo was second, and now Terzo is the third.”

Your brow furrows as you mouth their names and something clicks.

“I’m sorry, you’re all brothers and you’re named first, second, and third? Who does that to their kids?”

Copia snorts into his glass at your candidness.

“Our idiot father, that’s who,” Primo says, and you’re shocked at his venomous tone, “You’ve met Papa Nihil, have you not?”

Oh. You’ve met Papa Nihil alright.

“Ah…yes. Yes, we’ve met. I don’t think he cares much for me.”

Terzo laughs.

“We all have that in common, bella mia! Consider it a badge of honor.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

“So,” Secondo begins, “you must listen to each of our albums and tell us which one you like best, sì?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m qualified to properly judge that sort of thing–”

“We insist,” Terzo says imperiously, “I want nothing less than an album ranking and your overall top five songs. Cardinal, see to it that she gets educated.”

“I don’t see how this is my area of expertise,” Copia says sullenly, stabbing at what remains of his chicken. “It’s not my band.”

Hmm. Another frisson of tension.

Interesting.

“If everyone is done with their meal, shall we move back into the kitchen for dessert? Piccolina, how do you feel about gelato?”

Your cheeks redden at the moan that escapes your mouth. Copia coughs sharply at your side, having turned red himself.

“What’s your favorite flavor, bella mia?” Terzo asks, rising from the table as you do.

“Stracciatella, definitely, but I will never say no to chocolate.”

“Ah! A woman after my own heart! Copia do you hear this? She likes stracciatella.”

The Cardinal remains seated, nodding distractedly. As you exit the room you see Primo move closer to him and put a hand on his back, leaning in to speak quietly.

—

“Oh topolino…she’s just as lovely as you said. Kind, smart, beautiful. Burns bruschetta but eh, no one is perfect.” Primo smiles as Copia looks up at him in earnest.

“Papa…I really like her.”

It’s the first time he’s voiced his feelings out loud and he can feel the flush on his cheeks creeping down his chest.

“I know, ragazzo mio. And you know what? I think she really likes you too.”

Copia’s heart skips a beat.

“Really? You think so? I-I want to do something nice for her, something she deserves but I’m not sure–”

“Spend time with her,” Primo says, smiling, “She is very lonely. Continue to be the friend you have been thus far - that’s what she deserves.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” Copia murmurs, “Surely she’ll tire of me or–”

“Surely nothing of the sort,” Primo says firmly. “If she cares for you as I suspect she does, she will welcome you into her heart. All parts of you, not just the best ones. You’ll see, topolino. Prometto.”

“Grazie,” Copia whispers as Primo places a kiss on his forehead.

“Hey you two what flavor–oh, I’m sorry, I’m interrupting something.”

You move to exit the room but Copia stands abruptly.

“No, please. Stay.”

You smile. If only he knew now how you’d take that request to heart.

[cowboyemeritus]

Cenerentola (Frater Imperator/Reader)

Summary: Copia hosts a gala to celebrate his ascension to head of the Clergy. When things go haywire, it's up to you to keep him safe. In the process, it becomes impossible to avoid your feelings for him any longer.

Content Warning: mild violence, a singular Monty Python reference

Notes: me? writing sfw? it's more likely than you think.

i've been doing a lot of social dancing so naturally that made me think about dancing with copia. i am also a sucker anything remotely cinderella-esque lol. reader is sort of based on an oc of mine.

i don't really know how i feel about this — i had ideas for two related scenes and then had to fill in the gaps from there. sorry it's so long lmao

feedback is always welcome :)

Even amidst the sea of people below, it is impossible for you to miss him. Copia shines like the Morningstar, the candlelight glinting off the ruby brooches and bedazzled collar of his new, freshly pressed suit. All eyes are on him as he spins the delighted young Sister of Sin in his arms, leading her with grace and elegance through the steps of the fast-paced waltz. He’s changed so much in the years since you left the Ministry. Now, with his ascension to head of the Clergy, there are moments where he seems like an entirely different person, exponentially more confident and self-assured than you remember. 

You know his new demeanor, however, betrays a deep-seated anxiety, the product of years of vague threats on his life from the organization he’s now expected to lead. And surely, the irony is not lost on him that the very hall in which he is now dancing sits directly above the crypts, where the bodies of his assassinated brothers lay in eternal repose.

From your position, leaning against a column up on the balcony, you have the entire ballroom in your sights. Every step, every gesture, every side conversation, is under your scrutiny. This was by design. Although Copia, by some miracle, lived to see the end of his reign as Papa, the transition of power has not been an easy one. Threats abound, the old guard of the Clergy still dissatisfied with him, many enraged by his recent promotion. His mother’s scheming was meant to protect him, but now it seems to have backfired, putting him in more danger than ever before. While this gala serves as a way for him to potentially smooth things over with the Upper Clergy, asserting himself as Frater Imperator, he is also making himself vulnerable, open to attacks of all kinds.

As a favor to his predecessor, the woman who taught you everything you know, you begrudgingly agreed to provide additional security around Ministry headquarters. At first, returning to the Abbey, its halls so hauntingly familiar, reminded you of why you left in the first place: decadence, hypocrisy, lies — a message lost in a quagmire of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. Somehow, though, Copia and his ghouls have wormed their way into your frozen heart over these last few months. It was done before you even knew it was happening. Copia has this sort of magnetism about him, some preternatural force that makes it impossible not to be charmed. It was like this even when he was a shy, awkward cardinal. Because of this, although the Clergy wants him gone, he has the distinct advantage of a congregation that completely adores him.

The song ends, and Copia sweeps the Sister into a dip. She giggles, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek. Something in your chest pangs.

At the end of the day, you just work together. It would be foolish of you expect anything more. Still, there’s been an undeniable tension between the two of you since your return to the Ministry. You see the way he looks at you, the way he hangs on to your every word when you speak. But maybe you’re imagining it — you spend so much time around him that perhaps you’ve mistaken proximity for fondness.

You sense a familiar, fiendish presence approaching from behind. “You’re having fun,” Cirrus remarks, entering your field of vision. She has a flute of champagne in each hand and offers one to you. To maintain the illusion of normalcy you accept, taking a small sip of the bubbly, golden liquid.

“We’re on the clock,” you say, eyeing a small group of cardinals that have congregated near the refreshments table. They seem to be merely gossiping. Rain is stationed nearby, carefully observing. “No fun allowed.” The ghoul chuckles, leaning against the balcony railing on her forearms.

“I take it everything’s alright so far?” You nod, thinking back on the hours you spent painstakingly drawing sigils at various locations around the Abbey, setting up one massive alarm spell. If anything supernatural tries to get in, you’ll know. All that’s left is to be on the lookout for any natural, more human threats. You swallow down a lump in your throat, hoping your preparations will be enough.

“Try to relax, then,” Cirrus coaxes, sipping her own drink. There’s a pause. “You should go dance with him.” You feel your cheeks heat up, but keep your composure.

“I don’t have time to mess around,” you state bluntly. Your posture sags a bit. “He’s busy, anyway.” Copia is leading another Sister onto the dance floor, taking the starting position as the ghoul band strikes up another tune. You zero in on the hand resting on her hip, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. It looks like her dress doesn’t have any pockets; the probability of her concealing anything is low.

Cirrus places a clawed hand on your shoulder and gives you a playful jostle. “For you? He’ll make time.” You give her a quizzical look and she winks, straightening back up before taking her leave. “Do it!” She calls. “I’ve got good money on you two getting together!” Your mouth hangs slightly agape, watching as she descends the stairs to rejoin the party.

You take another, longer sip of your champagne, relishing in the sensation of bubbles tickling your tongue. It helps take the edge off, if only a little. You remain up on your perch for another long while. Copia eventually abandons dancing in favor of strolling through the crowd, greeting and shaking hands with various high-profile guests. It’s harder to keep track of him this way, even from your vantage point, so once your glass is empty you descend the stairs, entering the fray for yourself. To your relief, no one pays you any mind as you weave through the mass of bodies. You spot a truly nameless ghoul carrying a tray of empty glassware and flag them down, depositing your glass. You’re about to find a better place to camp out when someone taps you on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, signorina strega.” You turn and sure enough, it’s Copia. He’s holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?” Multiple pairs of eyes are now focused on you. Swallowing hard, you flush, smiling nervously. It’s a little more attention than you’d like, but you reason that within arms reach of him is the best place to be right now.

It’s completely logical, not motivated by anything else.

“Of course, Frater Imperator,” you reply, bowing your head slightly. You make it a point to use his full title in front of the guests. “I would be honored.” Gingerly, you take his hand, and he leads you to the dance floor. You pick up your pace a bit so that you’re able to whisper in his ear. “I’m not very good.” Copia gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Do not worry. Just follow my lead.” As the last few bars of the current song play, Copia guides you into the starting position, placing his right hand delicately on your hip and holding the left out for you to take. You try not to think about how, even through the leather of his gloves, his hand is so warm. Having difficulty looking him in the eye, you glance over his shoulder in the brief moment of silence between songs. You see Cirrus, Rain, and Swiss gathered by the refreshments table, watching you with shit-eating grins plastered across their faces. The air ghoul flashes you a thumbs-up and you have to resist the urge to destroy her with your mind.

“Ready?” As if on cue, the band resumes playing. You recognize the song instantly: Waltz No. 2, Shostakovich. How woefully on brand. The dance begins, Copia stepping forward with his left foot while you, mirroring him, step back with the right. It’s easy enough to follow him after that, stepping to your left as he steps right, then forwards to start all over again.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. You’re a natural.” Once you find a steady rhythm, you’re able to look up from your feet and actually start to enjoy the feeling of whirling around the room.

“How are things?” He asks, clearly trying to remain nonchalant. There are so many eyes on you, and from the crowd you sense intrigue, amusement, and a significant amount of jealously.

“Fine, so far,” you reply through a smile, trying to make it as difficult as possible for people to read your lips. Copia nods.

“Bene.” A few beats pass. “Thank you for all your hard work. I appreciate you coming back after...” He looks away for a moment. “I appreciate it.” You didn’t do it for him and he knows that, but his expression of gratitude makes heat bloom in your chest nonetheless.

“I’m glad I did,” you say without thinking. “This place is different now. Good different, because of you.” Copia smiles, the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkling. He raises his left arm and you pass under it in a spin, feeling lighter than air.

“I had hoped you would be able to enjoy yourself tonight,” he admits, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “Instead it seems you are just fretting over me.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“It’s that ego of yours I’m worried about,” you tease. “Pretty soon there won’t be room for anyone else in this Ministry.” Both of you laugh at this.

“I had better check myself, then,” Copia says, running a hand through his mousy brown hair. “I would hate to see you leave again.” That catches you off guard and you nearly trip, but his hand finds your hip again, keeping you stable. By now, you’re certain he’s noticed the blush on your cheeks.

“Don’t worry. I’m not-“

Somewhere, an invisible thread snaps. It makes your stomach lurch, the color draining from your face. You pause, your playful expression melting away as you try to pinpoint the source of the disruption. The South Wing. It’s approaching fast. When you return to this plane Copia is looking at you with concern.

“I have to go,” you say quietly. He doesn’t have time to respond before you exit the dance floor, heading for the large double doors at the other end of the ballroom. It’s hard not to shove people out of the way as you duck and weave through the crowd. Dewdrop is at the entrance, minding his post, but as you approach it’s clear from the rigidity of his small body that he’s been waiting for you. He follows you wordlessly out into the hall. Kicking off your heels, the two of you take off in the direction of the intrusion. You internally curse your foolishness for talking yourself out of wearing sneakers, or even flats.

“It’s something nasty,” he says once you’re out of earshot of any guests. You can only nod in agreement, hoping the two of you are enough to deal with whatever this foul thing is.

You round the corner to the South Wing and stop dead in your tracks. The sight before you makes your blood run could. Charging towards you is a hulking creature, easily Mountain’s height but with Aether’s bulk. It’s clearly a humanoid figure, but its edges are poorly defined, a mist-like quality to them. Still, you observe shapes that resemble horns and a tail, and that tells you all you need to know: a rogue ghoul, not bound to this plane by a contract. As such, it’s less of a consolidated form and more of rampaging ball of fiendish energy. This information helps you narrow down the list of potential culprits exponentially.

There’s no time to dwell on that, though. The creature is headed straight for you, no doubt attracted to the smell of your human flesh. Before you can react, Dew puts himself between you and the ghoul, ready to engage. He’s strong in spite of his small size, but the odds of him defeating this massive a beast on his own, especially one this energized, are slim. You realize he’s buying you time to cast a spell, and immediately you formulate a plan in your head. It will take some time to accomplish, but if he can hold off this monstrosity for long enough, you should be able to successfully banish it back to the Pit without endangering him as well. Planting your feet, you take a deep breath, letting your eyes shut. There’s a whoosh of warm air as Dew charges the rogue ghoul. Energy begins to flow through you as you chant under your breath, crafting the spell. A metallic taste fills your mouth, the air crackling with static.

You’re about halfway through the incantation when the sound of a body hitting the floor breaks through your wall of concentration. The creature roars, forcing you to crack an eye open just in time to see it lunge at you. It’s covered in scratches and burns, but Dew is ultimately the one on the ground, desperately trying to pick himself back up. You’re only just able to side-step, the spell breaking as you focus all of your energy on surviving the next few seconds. You’re frantically backpedaling when it swipes at you, claws catching you in the side. You cry out as it tears through the flimsy red fabric of your dress, leaving three long gashes in its wake that begin bleeding immediately. Though profoundly painful it’s a superficial wound; if you had been stationary, there’s no doubt it would have disemboweled you. 

Your back hits the wall. Dew shouts your name but you just stand there, frozen. The creature is about to pin you when a large body slams into it from the side, knocking it to the ground. You immediately recognize the form as Aether, and looking in the direction from whence he came you see Cirrus, Swiss, Rain, Mountain, Sunshine, and Phantom, all approaching with teeth and claws bared. Cirrus gets to you first, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the scuffling ghouls.

“Are you-“ She finally notices you clutching your side, blood seeping into your dress. “Oh shit, are you okay?” You nod, lifting your hand to show her it’s minor. Phantom is helping Dew to his feet. He seems alright other than a few scratches, the fall appearing to have knocked the wind out of him more than anything.

“I’m fi-” Your heart nearly stops. “Is someone watching Imperator?”

“Cumulus and Aurora are with him,” she says. “They’ve got it under control.” You let out a relieved sigh, shoulders dropping. It’s only now you that you notice how much tension you’ve been holding in your body all night. Your body trembles with excess adrenaline.

Aether lets out a frustrated growl. You barely have time to look in his direction before the rogue ghoul, having slipped out of his grasp, hurls itself out of one of the long, gothic windows lining the hallway. Bits of stained glass go flying, scattering across the marble floor tiles. The creature is smart enough to recognize it’s been outnumbered. One-by-one the members of the pack leap through the broken portal, none of them too keen on letting the intruder escape. Dew tries to follow, clearly excited about the prospect of a hunt, but Cirrus shoos him away from the window.

“Go clean yourselves up,” she orders, perched on the ledge. It’s directed mostly at you. “We’ll take it from here.” With that, she jumps down, disappearing from view as the sound of the pack whooping and howling fades into the distance.

Twenty some-odd minutes and a round of healing magick later, you and Dew are sitting out on the steps of the back patio, passing a cigarette back-and-forth. By now, the rogue ghoul has most certainly been torn to ribbons. There could still be threats lurking, but for as much as you’d like to go find Copia, you’re nowhere near presentable and would prefer not to incite panic, or suspicion, among the guests. Besides, you’re hardly capable of doing anything now, your energy completely drained by the evening’s events. You only had enough juice left to stop your cuts from bleeding; anything physically strenuous would certainly reopen the wounds. For now, you’re content to enjoy the cool autumn air, knowing he’s in capable hands.

“There you are.” Speak of the Devil. You look over your shoulder and Copia is stepping out into night, flanked by Cumulus and Aurora. Clutched in one hand are your strappy red heels, and it’s only now that you realize you’re still barefoot. Dew, with a quiet groan, rises to his feet and climbs the stairs, passing Copia as he descends.

“We’re going to go take care of this one,” Cumulus says, draping an arm over the fire ghoul’s shoulder. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but for a moment you swear she winks at you. Dew tries to shrug her off with a huff, and the girls giggle. Copia nods approvingly.

“Thank you, miei cari. We will debrief in the morning.” The three ghouls turn and step back inside, leaving you and Copia on the stairs. Your heart beats a little faster with the realization that you two are alone, although you tell yourself it’s because you won’t be able to defend him in this state. There’s definitely no other reason.

“Your glass slippers, my lady.” You roll your eyes and reach out to take your shoes from Copia, but he refuses to hand them over, kneeling on the stair below you. “Allow me, per favore.”

This might as well be happening. Lifting your foot up, you grant him permission to assist you. Copia slides the first shoe back on, holding your calf with one hand. Again, you can’t help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. 

“I’m sorry for running off,” you say, needing to break the silence. “I hope you didn’t think that-“

“Not at all. I figured that something was, eh, ‘going down.’” When he looks up he finally notices the gashes in your side. He hisses, wincing. “Ahia! That looks like it hurts.”

You wave him off. “’Tis but a scratch.” He looks like he’s going to protest, clearly upset, but instead opts to tighten the strap of your shoe before moving on to the next foot.

“What happened?” He asks, starting the process over again.

“Rogue ghoul,” you explain, looking out into the forest at the edge of the lawn. “Likely the work of Cardinal Ambrosius. He’s gotten in trouble for trying to make contracts before. Doesn’t look like he’s quite figured it out, though. I can have his head on your desk by Monday morning, if you’d like.” 

Copia laughs through his nose. “You are absolutely vicious, mia strega.”

You shrug. “Just doing my job.” Once Copia finishes with your other shoe he stands, offering you his hand.

“Walk with me?” 

You give him a hesitant look. “I don’t want to keep you from your guests.” He scoffs.

“I have had enough of those two-faced pricks for one night. A lifetime, even.” His expression softens. “But if you are not up for it, I-“

“No!” You shoot up, taking his hand. It startles him a little bit. “I’m good. Let’s go.” Copia smiles, the moonlight sparkling in his eyes. Like an obedient  lamb, you let him lead you down the rest of the stairs and across the patio to where a walkway wraps around the side of the building. He’s taking you to the gardens, it seems. Though your legs feel like jelly, the walk isn’t very long, which you’re thankful for.

The gardens aren’t really a sight to behold this time of year, but the full moon bathes everything in a mesmerizing blue glow, giving the space a dreamlike quality. The ballroom is just up another set of stairs, the music still audible where you emerge. You stop by the fountain, a marble visage of Lilith pouring water from a bottomless goblet. The water is still running, providing a little extra ambiance.

“Care to dance?” Copia asks. “We were so tragically interrupted before.”

“I…” Damn you and your nerves. You’re blushing again. “I don’t want to get blood all over you.”

Still, he persists, shrugging. “It’s a black suit.” It’s hard to say no to that face, but the McQueen jacket? Really? He gives you a pleading look and your resolve instantly crumbles.

“Alright.” It’s all but a whisper. “But go easy on me.”

You don’t wait for the next song to start, you simply get in position and go from there. It’s slower than what you danced to before, and you two end up just swaying to the rhythm rather than following any steps. That’s fine with you, your legs are still shaking, though you can’t tell if it’s from exertion or something else entirely.

“You look beautiful,” Copia says after a few measures. In that time you two have drifted closer together, only a few inches between you now. It’s hard to look him in the eyes when your face is so embarrassingly red, so you choose to stare at the ground.

“I’m a mess.” You laugh, but there’s something bitter in it as your eyes wander to your soiled dress, torn and bloody. There was a silly, naive part of you that had been thinking of Copia when you selected it for this evening. He stops swaying, a hand finding your chin and gently lifting your head. In your opinion, he’s the beautiful one, practically glowing in the moonlight. 

“Nonsense. You are the fairest of them all, cara.” You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth draw up into a slight smile.

“You’re getting your fairytales mixed up.” The two of you share a laugh before dissolving into a few moments of comfortable silence. You can tell he’s thinking about something, and he looks away, clearly nervous.

“Did you mean what you said about coming back?” The question catches you off guard for a second.

“I did,” you finally respond. “I really did. This place feels like home again.” Swallowing, you decide to take a bit of a leap. “Did you mean what you said, about me leaving?” You haven’t discussed it in a long time, but when you first took the job, the understanding was that this was only a temporary arrangement, lasting at least until Copia was able to settle into his new position. The notion pains you now. He nods.

“Yes. I-“ He chuckles. “I cannot stand the thought. Signorina strega, say that you will stay with us, with me.”

You don’t even need to think about it. “I will. Of course I will.” Copia beams, and the sight is breathtaking. There’s another pause, the air between you charged with an energy more powerful than magick. In the ballroom, the final notes of the song ring out, though you hardly notice. A bomb could go off next to you, but even that wouldn’t be enough to pull you out of this moment.

“Beautiful…” You don’t protest when he cups your flushed cheek, running his thumb across the bone. “May I kiss you?” It takes everything you have to not melt into a puddle.

“Please.”

And then his lips — Sathanas, they’re soft —  are on yours. Stars explode behind your eyes as he presses into you, the hand on your hip to pulling you in closer. His body is so warm against you; it feels so right. Your heart is racing, head spinning, as the euphoria overtakes you. 

He kisses you until you’re both out of breath. When he finally pulls away, you want to chase after him, to kiss him until your lips fall off, but then your knees buckle. Copia is just barely able to catch you, letting out a surprised little noise you can’t help but find adorable. He seems less concerned when he sees you’re grinning like an idiot.

“Alas, I have killed her!” You both laugh as he helps you regain your balance. “Why don’t we sit down?” Humming in agreement, he leads you over to the fountain, sitting you down on the edge. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Are you sure you are alright?”

“Just peachy,” you say, gazing at your intertwined hands. “It’s been a long night.” Feeling bold and still a bit woozy, you bring Copia’s hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Ah, young love.” You both jolt, heads snapping in the direction of the voice. Before you stand the glowing specters of Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator. The old man has a wistful, nostalgic look on his face, while your former teacher observes with her arms crossed. How long have they been watching you? “Just like we once were, don’t you think?” Imperator huffs.

“I sure hope not.” Her focus falls on you. The wrath in her translucent blue yes makes your blood freeze. “You think you’re good enough for my son, girl?” For a moment, you’re completely speechless.

“I-“

“Are you two serious right now,” Copia shouts. “Get out of here! Go on! Get!” He gets up from the fountain to shoo them away. Imperator gives you a pointed look before dissolving into a blue mist. Her message is clear: this isn’t over. You gulp.

Copia groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe those two. I finally get to have my moment with you, and then they go and spoil it!” He flops back down next to you, sighing. “I am sorry, bella. I understand if-“

“Forget about it,” you say, holding up your hand to silence him. “Just kiss me, like, forever.”

Copia happily obliges.

[floating-mid-air]

The Princess of all Saiyans

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Masterlist

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I'm back yet again. Tbh, this chapter was pushed out entirely by just trying to occupy myself. Boe, my childhood cat of 16 years, just recently passed away. So, this chapter is entirely dedicated to her. I've had Boe practically my entire life, so it's def been rough. But I'm glad to finally get a chapter out for you all! This chapter is also a bit shorter than usual due to how I wanna start the next chapter. As always, DM's/Comments are always open if you have any comments, questions, or concerns. Thanks for all the support!

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Chapter 17

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You glide through the air, observing the destruction of the planet beneath you. Demolishing a planet was always your favorite part of the job when you were working under Frieza. It was always the most exciting part. Though, watching a planet burn is not as fun when your life is in imminent danger. Who knew?

This entire situation is difficult for you. This retreat is tactical, for sure. But... running away with your tail between your legs... to Earth of all planets. It's sickening. It goes against every single one of your instincts and every lesson you've ever been taught. Daily life would be much simpler without the damn Saiyan pride flowing through your veins. At points, it feels more like an anchor weighing you down. 

You spot a familiar figure in the distance, with a much larger one slung over his shoulders. You pick up speed, quickly outpacing him. "Huh?" The boy looks up, calling out your name. "You're safe!"

"Yeah, yeah. No need to throw a party." You scoff. "This planet is still a ticking time bomb." The two of you keep flying, not saying much to each other as you travel the distance. Before you speak up again. "Any idea how far this damn ship is?" Gohan shrugs, so the brat's as clueless as you are. "Great. Just great." You mumble sarcastically, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. 

Now you're on a wild goose chase of Kakarot's making. Some coordinates would've been nice. Not far from here isn't precisely quality directions. You'd take a simple cardinal direction at this point. And with the way this planet is crumbling, the ship might not even be functioning by now. 

"Hey!" Gohan calls out to you. "Look down there!" Your gaze trails downward. You make a subtle landing, dropping in front of the ship's doors. Wow, it's actually in one piece. It also has the same logo from that cave where you visited Raditz to inform him about the true fate of your people. Must be some sort of brand. 

"How the hell do you even open this thing?" You stare at the doors of the dome-shaped ship. Times like this, you miss the technology you've grown accustomed to under Frieza's command. Gohan moves over to you; he pushes a camouflage button, the door spinning open immediately. You enter the vessel first. It's small but larger than what you're used to. You still have nightmares about those damn pods you were crammed into. Sardines in a can have more room than you did. 

Gohan places the Namekian on the ground before turning to you. "Stay here with Piccolo. I'll go out and find Bulma."

"Do you really need to? Like, would anyone miss her?" From your brief encounters, you know two things about the Earth woman. She's incredibly irritating and she has awful taste in men.

"She's our... well, she's my friend. Of course, we can't leave her behind…" Gohan trails. Memories of when Vegeta ruthlessly killed Nappa flood his brain. He remembers the aloof expression on your face. The way your lips met in a thin line, not even showing an ounce of empathy. It still sends a shiver down his spine when he thinks about it. "So maybe you wouldn't exactly get it." He laughs nervously. "But it's the right thing to do."

"How do you know the Earth woman is even alive?" From what you've noticed, earthlings aren't the most durable creatures. And your knowledge stems from the strongest of the bunch.  So it's a reasonable question.

"Well, I have to try! I can't just leave her out there." He takes a deep breath, collecting himself before continuing. "And I'm the only one who can. Piccolo is out of it. And you're pretty banged up, Y/N. I'll be back as soon as possible. Promise." He extends his arm out to you, holding out his pinky.

Your face scrunches up in confusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's a pinky promise." You look at the boy as if he has two heads. To be honest, a two-headed creature would probably be less peculiar to you. Gohan sighs. "It's just another way to make a promise... like a handshake, only with your pinkies.

"You earthlings and your bizarre customs." You shake your head in disbelief, but Gohan doesn't move an inch, still extending the digit to you. "Fine, Fine." You interlock your pinky with his briefly before pulling away. Gohan smiles brightly at you. You place your hands on your hips, sighing quite loudly. "If you're not back within thirty minutes. I'm leaving the Namekian and dragging you back by force. Understand?"

The boy gulps before nodding rapidly. And with that, he takes off. His small frame disappears from your view. Well, at least things are quiet... with the amount of irritation you've been subjected to, you forgot how much you dread silence. You slide down against what you can only assume is the navigation system. You bang your head against the cool metal. Taking in the situation before you. Everything will get worse before it gets better. You just know it. 

---

The ground beneath you shakes violently. "Fucking low-class Earth machinery." You quickly come to realize that the ship itself isn't moving… it's the planet's surface. You spring to your feet, the rocking pushing you back and forth as you make your way to the entrance. You peek your head out, a luminous beam of light coming from the direction you just came from. "Well, that can't be good…" With another violent rumble, you lose your footing, sending you tumbling. Your back slams against the ship's walls with a notable thud. 

You groan, picking yourself up off the floor. What the hell just happened? Your balance has changed; it's like gravity has significantly altered. You shift your gaze around the ship, looking for irregularities. The foundation now has an arch to it. You can still feel the ground underneath you slipping. Oh shit, the land underneath you must be concaving. 

With your remaining energy, you fly up into the air, picking up the Namekian with a scowl crossing your features. You can't believe you're fucking doing this. You don't save the weak… and you don't spare the injured. So what the hell are you doing? You could just take this damn ship, toss the Namekian out, and leave the boy and the Earth woman for dead. Or at least you could've let the Namekian plummet and slam into the wall. Sure, it could've killed him, but that's not your problem. You don't give a damn about the Dragon Balls or the lives of the pathetic deceased earthlings. All you care about now is spiting Frieza. You're losing your edge. The longer you spend with these people, the softer you get. It's vile. 

Before your subconscious can voice any more displeasure, the lights flicker, the entire ship going dim. The only light coming from the entrance. Great, just great; now you can barely see shit. What else could possibly go wrong? Once the ship has suspended, you place the Namekian back on the floor. The gravity is a bit off due to the angle you're on, but he should be fine. You find a new place to sit, one that's less sunken into the ground. You slide on the wall right beside the opening of the ship. You're getting far too soft for your liking.

After a bit more time passes, you can hear voices approaching. Two distinct voices, to be exact. You open your eyes, knowing immediately that it's them. Much to your surprise, the Earth woman somehow survived. Good thing you didn't bet money on it. Gohan enters the ship first, a big grin on his face. "Fucking finally," You stand back up, crossing your arms. 

"I told you I'd find her." The boy boasts.

"I'm so overjoyed." You reply with a deadpan look on your features.

"Gohan?" Bulma, on shaky legs, enters the ship. "Where are you-" As soon as her eyes land on you, she shrieks. "What is she doing here?"

"It's alright, Bulma. She's with us." Gohan assures her.

"But she's insane! You saw what she did to---" You clear your throat, reminding her of your presence. She looks at you, fear evident in her eyes. "Well, you know what. The more the merrier." She laughs nervously. Once Bulma calms herself down, she looks around the ship. "Hmm? It's so dark in here. I wonder if there was some sort of malfunction."

"That's weird." Gohan's brows furrow. "The lights were on when I left." The pair turn to you.

"The ship slid a bit." You shrug nonchalantly. 

"Well, why didn't you---" You cut the woman off. 

"I'm not familiar with your low-class Earth machinery. I could have just made everything worse!" Before Bulma can retort, she slips, plunging right into the control panel. You let out a brash chuckle, watching her struggle. 

She stands back up, finding her footing. She leans over the panel, fiddling with the buttons. "I'm not familiar with this machine model." She continues to mess with the controls.

After a few more seconds, the lights turn on. Maybe the Earth woman is more competent than she lets on. Cause she fixed that rather fast. "Phew. All better." She takes a few steps back before stepping on something squishy. Unbeknownst to her, she just tripped up on the Namekian. Bulma's eyes dart downward; as soon as she sees the green man, she somehow shrieks even louder than when she noticed you. You're almost offended. She jumps into the air before scurrying behind Gohan. "Is that Piccolo, or am I losing it?" Her voice shakes.

Gohan nods. "Yep, that's him, alright."

She extends her neck, taking a second glimpse at the Namekian. "What's he even doing here? Bulma observes the man carefully, taking a mental note that he still hasn't risen. There's something clearly wrong with him. The gears turn in her brain, briskly making an educated guess that Piccolo is injured. Well, it's that, along with his grueling appearance. "Look at him. He's a mess! Does he really have to tag along?" Gohan turns to her, shooting the woman a disapproving look. "I mean, this is his home planet after all…" 

That's odd. From what you've understood, the Namekian is a part of the band of buffoons. He helped kill Cado. He trained the half-breed. He was there when you invaded Earth. And showed up here to get himself killed. Sounds like he's a core member of Kakarot's idiots to you. But from the Earth woman's reaction, you have to second guess that theory. Maybe they aren't allies after all? Possibly, they just share common goals? You've been in several situations similar to that in the past.

"We can't just leave him! He saved us. I owe him. We all do! So he's coming back to Earth with us no matter what!"

"That's sweet of you…" Bulma places her hand on Gohan's shoulder. "But we don't know if he would've wanted that." You raise an eyebrow. The man is clearly breathing. So why is she talking in the past tense like you have a corpse aboard? Aren't these humans supposed to be selfless and empathetic? Or have you only met the irritating ones? If the Earth woman keeps this behavior up, you could be more on board with her. "I think he would've wanted to be buried here, on his home planet."

Gohan's brows furrow, looking at the woman with a frown. You roll your eyes. "He's not dead, you lunatic…." You say as if you weren't just making the same argument for the Earth woman only a short while ago. Maybe we should leave her. It would make the journey back more tolerable. "But, hey, if you're so insistent. You wanna bury him here… you dig the hole."

"Fine." Bulma huffs. "He can come with us."

"How generous of you." You scoff. Before you can make another snarky comment, the aircraft shifts again, sinking further inwards towards the planet's core. A few more cracks in the surface of this planet and the four of you are going to die a very excruciating death.  

"This entire place is falling apart!" The woman exclaims. "We need to take off. Now!" You can't believe you're saying this, but you're actually in agreement with the Earth woman. Talk about a plot twist. Bulma rushes back to the panel and starts fiddling with the buttons again. 

"Wait!" Gohan shouts, stopping the woman dead in her tracks. "We can't leave yet! We have to wait for my dad!"

"He'll be okay, Gohan." Bulma's eyes soften. "If anyone can find a way out of here, it's Goku… he always does." She stares off into the distance as if having some sort of dream sequence. It's mildly disturbing. 

"No, we can't!" The boy starts to tear up. "There's still time, lots of it." Considering you have a high level of expertise in the destruction of planets. You know, this rock has maybe an hour left maximum. And that's being incredibly generous.

 You groan. "I hate to agree with the Earth woman, but she's right. I've seen the destruction of more planets than you could probably imagine. Now, most of them were by my own hands, but that's irrelevant. The point is, your father wants you off this planet. And I think you should adhere to his wishes."

"Please…" Gohan looks between the two of you with big eyes. "Just a few more minutes."

"Gohan…" Bulma smiles weekly at him. "I think-" She's cut off. By the ship once again sinking further into the ground.

You rub your temples, your frustration growing rapidly. You can't believe this is even a discussion. What needs to happen is clear. Maybe to everyone but the brat. "I've had enough! This isn't the time to play selfless hero like your moronic father. Let me put this in the simplest terms I can. If we don't get the Namekian off this planet, everyone dies! There's no second chances. There's no more wishes. And that means-" You cut yourself off. Stopping yourself from saying something unnecessarily cruel. You're trying to persuade him, not make him weep.

The planet's destruction continues to form around you. This discussion is clearly going nowhere. You don't see why a child should decide all of your fates. "This is bad!" Bulma struggles to maintain balance due to the quaking beneath her. "We only have a few minutes left before planet Namek is nothing but dust!" Gohan isn't even paying attention to anything other than the direction of the battle. It's like everything both you and Bulma say goes in one ear and out the other. You're seconds away from knocking the boy out, so you can descend with no hiccups. 

Gohan's face falls before you can even set a plan in motion. You focus your energy in the direction of the battle. And you sense exactly the same thing. You sigh, feeling slight empathy for the boy. You know how that feels. You've lived through that experience. It's certainly not a positive one. "Dad's energy." He chokes up. "It's just… gone." Bulma gasps. 

"Does that mean?" Gohan nods, his sad expression quickly evolving into one of determination. 

"Start preparing the ship for launch. And take Piccolo back to Earth with you. I'm staying here." Perfect, just what you need. A loose cannon on your hands. The option of knocking him out is growing more appealing by the second. The boy moves to the door, standing right in front of it.

"Woah! Hey there! Slow down!" Panic rises in Bulma's voice. "Gohan! No! You can't just go back out there!" Gohan presses a button, causing the door to slowly open. "Gohan, don't do this."

"I'm my father's son, Bulma." Well, that's clear to you. He clearly got his lack of preservation from somewhere. Moron must be genetic. "I have to finish what he started. It's my duty."

"Gohan…" Bulma rushes over to him. "You can't. It's too dangerous." 

The boy shakes his head. "I have to try. Piccolo would understand." From your brief interactions with the Namekian, you doubt that's true. "It's what he and dad would've wanted." And now you know for a fact that it's untrue. Your hypothesis has to be correct. Moron is undoubtedly genetic.

It's time for some intervention. You know for a fact the Earth woman is no match for the half-breed. Words can only get you so far. You slowly walk over to them, your boots making a notable clink against the metal floor, the sound growing closer with each step. Right until you're standing directly in front of Gohan. The last barricade between him and the outside world. You chuckle mischievously. "Absolutely not, brat."

 "I have to do this, Y/N." He looks you dead in the eyes, not even displaying an ounce of fear.

"Why's that? So Frieza can slaughter three generations of your bloodline rather than two?" You roll your eyes. "Your father asked me to look out for you, and I intend to. No matter how aggravating it is."

"But…"

"But nothing! Were we even on the same battlefield?" You place your hands on your hips, your eyes narrowing into slits. "You genuinely think this is what your father would've wanted? He was screaming at you to leave. He basically ordered you to. A father looks out for their child… he doesn't throw them into the lion's den!"

"I can do this. I can't just let Frieza get away with this!" Gohans' attempts at persuasion are futile. You could easily out-stubborn him any day of the week.

"Think about this logically! If you go out there. Frieza will kill you. It'll be quick. You're no match for him. He'll probably be insulted that you'd even try. The battle doesn't just end… the entire fight will! If we return to Earth, you can rest up… prepare a bit. I know Frieza. And I assure you he will be gunning for Earth next. He wants that wish. And what Frieza wants, he tends to get it." 

Now, you're doing some logical thinking of your own. If the Namekian dies… there's no more wishes. You could step on his neck right now. End his pathetic life. You'd put a stop to Frieza's mission. He'd never be able to get his hands on immortality. Sure, there'd be a few unhappy faces, but it would be the wise thing to do. You can't believe this thought hasn't crossed your mind before. You quickly shake that idea out of your head. It's a fantastic plan. It's far more logical than your current one. You'll keep it in your pocket. "If you care about your planet… your people. You'll stay on this ship and go home."

You're running out of ways to convince him. If only he hadn't inherited a stubborn Saiyan nature. This is the first time you've wished he behaved more like an Earthling and less like a Saiyan. "I have to do this!"

You know what. You're done arguing with him. It's time to use something that works much better. Threats. "Oh, you wanna go out there?" You extend your hand outwards toward the outside. "Be my guest… but you'll have to go through me first."

Gohan's hands ball up into fists. "That's not fair!"

You scoff. "Please, if you think you can face Frieza, then I should be a piece of cake." You're about to take it even further. But before you can, you feel a familiar powerful level in the distance… and then another. Your head darts in that direction. What the hell? That's not possible. Are you imagining things again? As you're distracted, the brat runs past you, making a break for it. He takes off before you can even move a muscle. "God damn it!"

Huh. There are chunks of energy everywhere. Small and pathetic levels, but they exist. There's life… how the hell is there life? Wait… does that mean. You weren't imagining things. You really did sense Vegeta and Raditz. But… how? You quite vividly remember their deaths. You see it every time you close your eyes. There's a serious mind fuck going on. Your brain is scrambling.

The Earth woman shakes her head, snapping out of her dazed expression. "Why'd you let him get away?" She shouts at you. 

"I–" You're at a loss for words. You don't understand how this is happening. "There's energy levels all over this planet."

"I don't know what the hell that means!" Her brows furrow. "I don't speak fighter."

You roll your eyes. "Let me dumb it down for you. Before, there was no life left on this planet. Now, there's a lot. I'm assuming there was somehow a mass resurrection of some kind… I just don't know how."

Bulmas ears perk up. "The Dragon Balls. The Earth ones! Someone back home must've made a wish!" That makes sense… and with the Namekian alive, the set on Earth is intact. But that's so many people. The limit must not be as small as you were led to believe. Because that many lives is a massive job. But wait. What's the point?

"Well, why the hell would they do that? This planet is about to blow. Everyone here will just die again. What a waste of a wish." You know the earthlings lack brain cells, but this is a new level. Unless there's another aspect of it that you're just not regarding. Before you can say anything else the sky grows dark. "What the hell?" You poke your head outside. This planet doesn't have a night. There's something about this that's oddly familiar. A strong sense of deja vu flooding your mind. You just can't quite place it.

"Wait." The woman moves closer to you, poking her head out the other side of the door. "I know what's happening. This same thing happens back on Earth when you make a wish." That's it. The Dragon Balls. That must mean the Grand Elder is alive. All that energy you were sensing is the people of Namek, including the elderly one. That must be the plan. To make a second, even larger wish with the Namek ones. But who's even gonna make that wish?

Oh fuck. Frieza can easily take that for himself. All he'd need is one Namekian, which would now be incredibly easy to attain. He only needs a singular feeble hostage to gain his greatest desire. Damn. You turn to the Earth Woman. "I have to go."

"What happened to thinking about things logically?"

"I am. If Frieza gets his wish for immortality, then everything is over." 

"But…You can't just leave me here all--" Without a word, you take off, leaving the Earth woman in your dust. "Why does everyone always abandon me on strange planets!"

Okay, all you have to do is get there before Frieza can. Or do you go to Vegeta and Raditz first? No, wish first, reunions second. You soar, picking up the pace; you don't think you've ever flown this fast. This is the only thing that matters to you. You detest Frieza with every bone in your body. You'll ruin this for him. Just like he ruined everything for you. You'll do whatever it takes. As you formulate a strategy, a bright light surrounds your body. "What the fuck?" You slowly fade out before disappearing entirely.

[miasmaghoul]

Oh :(

Oh Miasma why would you do this to me why would you make me sad about Omega like this........

But also.

Poof. Omega's just gone. Do you think it breaks Aether's heart to lose his mentor? Or do you think some part of him is happy for him because maybe, if the unholy father wills it, Omega might find Terzo again in another life?

Do you think Dew feels like his worlds been turned on its head? Relies even more heavily on Aether for a sense of stability without Omega there?

Sorry you've activated the sad Omega brainworms and I am in shambles

-Void

(Follow up to this ask)

I almost exclusively have sad thoughts about Omega, it's a curse 😔

Sad terzomega and dewther brainworm food below, but maybe with a little hope swirled in for flavor. Eat up 💜

I think he withdraws once Terzo goes missing, and with all the fallout after the fact...no one really notices. Except for Aether and Dew - they're at his door every day, always trying to offer what they can. Anything Omega needs, they'll make happen.

Omega needs Terzo. No one can help him with that.

I think they both feel it when he vanishes. Aether via the connection he has to all his pack members, and Dew senses it thanks to a chill he's never felt before. Like something's been chipped off inside him, something small but crucial. They wake up together one rainy morning, a week after the Cardinal was named leader, and just know everything feels...off. They dress together in silence, and walk just as quietly to Omega's chamber in the lower ghoul wing. Aether's hands won't stop shaking when he goes to open the door, but Dew does him the courtesy of not mentioning it.

Inside, on the perfectly made bed, they find the photo of Copia, a worn silver mask - and a pair of golden rings.

They hold each other for a while after that. Aether pins Dew to his chest and Dew clings to his shirt. No words, just contact. Reassurance that they both need so, so badly in the moment.

Then, knelt at Omega's bedside, they pray.

Aether prays he's found peace. That he's free of the stress and misery of being without the one person he'd found a true connection with. (If he peeks at Dew from the corner of his eye, he can't be blamed.) He prays that now Omega can rest, and that Secondo was right when he drunkenly told them all that the family Emeritus has it good in Hell. He prays that Terzo has been down there waiting, and that Omega can spend the rest of forever as happy as he deserves to be.

Dew cusses him out, brow furrowed in frustration as every bit of ghoulish profanity he can remember rolls through his mind. He sighs to himself once the wave of reactionary anger recedes, setting his elbows on the mattress and bowing his head - and all he can think to say is thank you. It's not enough, certainly. Nowhere near as complex as a goodbye should be, especially not to someone as important to him as Omega had been, but it's all he's got. In the end, he supposes that's fitting. Omega was never a ghoul of many words. He preferred keeping things direct - it was one of the things that Dew admired most about him. So maybe thank you is enough. For now, it has to be.

Aether's the first to stand, but Dew follows quickly. The join hands without so much as looking at one another, Dew leading the way to the door with purposeful strides. Aether grabs the old brass key from the dish on Omega's desk, and he pauses with one hand on the door handle. Takes one last look at the mask, the rings, and with one deep breath he commits every detail to memory.

Dew does not look back until he hears the lock tumble, and hold his hand out expectantly. Aether drops the key in his palm, and hand in hand the walk to the lake. It's still drizzling out, enough that their uniforms have gone damp by the time they reach the creaky old dock. Dew holds out his hand, and they stare at the key for a long moment. The little ghoul sighs, and Aether looks up to find Dew watching him with resolute eyes still watery along the edges.

"We gotta make him proud."

Dew says it so softly that Aether almost misses it, his mouth set in a firm line, and the fiercest sort of affection rips through his chest. He nods, biting the inside of his cheek.

"We will."

Dew throws the key towards the center of the gently rippling water, and they both turn away before they can see it sink.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Let's call it Fate | Prologue

(A/N) This has been spinning around in my head for AGES. Glad I can finally write it down. This will probably be a longer series and I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also, the warnings apply for future parts as well, just so you know what this will be about!

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: google translate translations, abusive parents (especially mother), arranged marriage, age gap, bullying

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

“Darling? Could you join us in the study for a moment?”

Darling? Your mother never called you darling. Or any sort of endearment at all. It’s usually your name. And if you’re in real trouble it’s your last name, although that way it’s sometimes hard to know if she's mad at you or your father.

“One second!”

With your eyebrows pulled together in a frown, you put your book down on your bed and got to your feet. Before leaving your room, you quickly grabbed a sweater, you put on on your way downstairs. All the while your mind was spinning, wondering what your mother wanted and why she acted as if she actually cared about you.

Once you stood in front of the slightly ajar door to the study, you took a deep breath, calming your nerves before you pushed the door open and stepped inside. And suddenly, you felt very underdressed. Your father was wearing a suit, which wasn’t unusual. Your mother’s attire was as fancy as usual, which was something you never understood - wearing ballgowns at home. But then there were the guests.

An older man, sporting an even fancier suit than your father, and a woman wearing a similar dress as your mother. And a younger man. He too, was wearing a suit, looking as if he had just jumped out of a movie from the 1950s. But you recognized him. The blond combed back hair and the green, glowing eyes.

Noah.

Your families had always been friends, forcing you to spend a lot of time with Noah when you were a child. But you never liked him. He was arrogant because his family was rich, only thinking of himself and acting as if he was the best. The moment you could decide whether you wanted to spend time with him or not, you decided against it and hid in your room, finding company in your books.

“Oh honey, there you are!”

Your mother jumped to her feet and rushed to your side, pulling you into a hug.

“Ugh, you’re sweaty. Just got done working out, right? That’s why you’re wearing these clothes.”

It was a blatant lie, but you knew better than to correct her. So, instead, you just smiled and nodded along as she pulled you further inside the room.

“Now, you surely remember Warrens? And Noah, your best friend.”

Your smile turned into a grimace before you could stop it. Best friend? As if. But you quickly fixed it back into a pleasant smile and raised your hand towards Mister Warren.

“Of course. It’s good to see you again Mister Warren, Misses Warren, Noah.”

They shook your hands, fake smiles plastered onto their faces. Once you shook Noah’s hand, you took a step back, risking a glance at your father, who looked unamused, to say the least.

“May I ask what the occasion is?”

Your mother’s eyes started to sparkle once you asked that question. Her hands landed on your shoulder and she spun you so you stood facing Noah.

“Well, we just finished arranging your engagement!”

Engagement? What the hell?

You spun around to look at her, but she quickly tightened her grip on your shoulders and spun you back towards Noah.

“Smile, or you won’t like the consequences.”

The venomous whisper was hidden behind a smile and only reached your ears, so you quickly plastered the smile that was requested onto your face, trying to look as happy as possible.

“You will marry as soon as you get baptized by the church. Before that, you will have to go through training, which is starting in a few days. My son will join you in that.”

Mister Warren took a step in your direction, his face serious. His eyes swept over your parents and you, before they stopped on your father.

“We will have to take our leave for now, but we’ll have to start planning the wedding soon.”

Your father nodded, and then the Warrens left, Noah, grinning cruelly at you as he passed you. Once they were gone, you ripped from your mother’s hold, spinning to glare at your parents.

“An arranged marriage? Are you crazy?”

“You will not talk like that to us! Now go back to your room! I will send one of the maids to pack your bags.”

Your mother’s face was red with anger, while your father just looked at the floor. You had never felt this betrayed.

Quick question for future parts: do you prefer translation in the text or at the end of the part? There'll be a lot of Italian in the future and I just want to know what you guys prefer! Let me know if you feel like it!

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

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[ramblingoak]

The Cardinal's Bride, Chapter 12: Diavolessa

~~ Please visit The Outlaw Brides Masterpost to catch up and read more stories from this world ~~

Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster, @ghuleh-recs for the collage and @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!  For some more amazing fanart check out: @missygoesmeow (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335  here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing​ ( 1 / 2 ), @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2), @z-xmyers (1/2/3/4), @foxybouquet ( 1 / 2 ), @delulluart here, _simpera_ on instagram and valkyrieinpink on twitter.  Also thank you to @kissingghouls for all her help and emotional support.

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader: Copia is desperate to find you before you end up in Saltarian's clutches.

Warnings: violence (the usual cowboy violence but Reader is put into danger as well and hurt) a lot of angst and smut (apologies for the vagueness but I'm trying to avoid spoiling anything), nsfw 18+ only mdni, 7,900 words

“You look like shit.”

“Grazie, fratello.”

Secondo snorted, shaking his head once before taking a swig of his whiskey.  The two of them were quiet as they sat in his office.  Terzo was dabbing at his face with a wet rag to clean up the blood leftover from Copia beating him when they were out on the road.  He finally gave up, throwing the bloody rag onto the floor and leaning into the back of the couch. 

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?”

“Copia’s smarter than you give him credit for.  He already didn’t want to be out there anyway.”

“Usually he can’t wait to get back on the road.”

“Well usually he doesn’t have a pretty girl waiting for him.” 

Secondo groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.  

“Think of all you two could accomplish if you thought less with your dicks and more with your brains.”

“Why are you dragging me into this?!  I wasn’t the one that fell in love with Saltarian’s fucking fiancé!”

“You’ve had your own issues with lovers.”  He rubbed his chest idly, stopping when he felt the familiar chain of his grucifix under the fabric.  “I can’t believe you both gave away a family heirloom.”

“For the last time mine was stolen.”

“Then get it back.”

“That was over ten years ago!  Who knows where she is now.”  

“Considering she was able to steal it from under The Morningstar’s nose I’m sure she’s still out there.  Probably robbing banks now.”

Terzo was silent for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face when Secondo glanced at him.  

“I’ve thought about it.  Looking for her.”  Secondo smirked but when Terzo noticed he quickly shook his head.  “Only to get my grucifix back.  Nothing more.”

“Whatever you say, fratellino.”

Quiet once more settled over them both.  The brothers each lost in their own thoughts.  Terzo eventually groaned and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and turning to look at his brother.  

“Do you believe him?”  When Secondo raised an eyebrow he elaborated.  “Copia.  That he loves her.”

“Sì.  I do.”  

“What are we going to do about it?”

Secondo was quiet again, staring down at the amber liquid in his glass.  He couldn’t get Copia’s face out of his mind.  The last time his brother had looked that determined was when they were all hiding in the woods, the smoke from their burning abbey heavy over their heads.  Secondo knew then that Copia would stop at nothing to protect his princess, to protect the woman he loved. 

He also knew he had a choice to make now, one that would have far reaching consequences for them all.  Was he ready to fight again?  Was he ready to possibly lose more of his family?  This could be their last chance to get their lives back.  Their last chance to get their church back.  

Secondo wasn’t sure if he still believed anymore.  It was hard to after the last decade.  After everything that had happened, things none of them deserved.  He had built a life here for everyone but there had always been something missing.  Something that helped keep them all together has one.  

He knew what he needed to do.  

“We’re going to fight.”  He stood up, pulling his grucifix out from under his shirt and letting it hang out in the open.  “We’re going to kill Saltarian once and for all.”

“Pay up shithead.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Our bet.  I won.”

“There are a lot of bets between us so you need to be more specif—ow!”

“Copia admitted he loved her!  It was amazing, I think Swiss even cried a little.” 

Swiss gamely nodded his head, grinning when Dewdrop turned to glare at him. 

“Well I didn’t hear it so it doesn’t count.”

“The fuck it doesn’t, Swiss and I both heard it.  Even Secondo did!  You can ask him when we get back.”

“Uh, no thanks.  I’m not sure anyone that brings up Copia or Princess around him will survive.”   Dewdrop glanced up towards where Copia and Aether were riding a bit ahead of the group.  “Is he even gonna let us come back?”

“He better, I left my favorite gun there.”   Sunshine and Dew shared a grin before she held her hand out towards him.  “Now pay up.”

“Lucifer’s balls, fine.”  He rummaged in the pockets of his coat before he came up with a crumpled bill, balling it up even more and throwing it at her head.  “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

The three of them quieted down after that, all lost in their own thoughts.  Sunshine kept her eyes on Copia and Aether, watching how Copia kept getting more and more tense the longer it took them to find Princess.  Rain had picked up her trail heading south, but as of yet they hadn’t run into any other signs of her.  Right now Rain and Mountain were scouting ahead, trying to see if she had stayed on the road.

Sunshine was hoping they didn’t find out she was dragged off of it.

“What’s going on now?”

Swiss’s voice snapped Sunshine out of her brooding and she focused on Copia again, noticing that he and Aether had stopped.  They seemed to be having a heated conversation so she spurred her horse and quickly headed their way. 

“I don’t want to talk about this now.”

“Then when?  Look, Boss, I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“Aether right now there is only one thing going through my mind and that is that I have to find her.” 

“I know, I know.”  Aether caught Sunshine’s eyes and sighed.  “We’re going to find her Boss, I promise.” 

“Then keep moving!  We’re not going to find her standing around arguing.”  

Copia’s shoulders sagged then and Sunshine could see how exhausted he was, how worried.  She moved closer to Copia, wanting to comfort him in some way but a sharp whistle got her attention.  They all looked up the trail to see Rain and Mountain in the distance, both focusing down on the ground. 

“Do you think they found her trail?”

Copia didn’t even bother answering Aether, he snapped Brizio’s reins and took off towards them.  Sunshine glanced towards Rain again and saw him waving his arms, almost like he wanted them to stay away.  Her blood instantly ran cold and she shouted after Copia.

“No!  Copia stay here!”

She groaned when he didn’t stop, instead riding after him as fast as she could.  He had already reached the two Ghouls and she could see Mountain trying in vain to push him away from where Rain was standing. 

It wasn’t until she got there that she realized why. 

She could smell it first, the sharp smell of blood.  As she got closer she could see that the ground was soaked with it.  Copia was taking a few steps forward, his boots sinking into the wet earth.  His hands were shaking, clenched into fists as his eyes stayed on the ground.  Rain walked up to him, a hat in his hand that Sunshine easily recognized.  The same one Princess had been wearing since they left the farmhouse. 

It was stained with blood. 

Copia only had it in his hands for a moment before it slipped from his fingers and he fell to the ground.  Sunshine was rushing over to him in an instant, her hands falling to his shoulders.  The smell was stronger now and the sight of how much blood there was made her feel sick.  She lowered her head, squeezing Copia’s shoulders when she felt him start to tremble. 

“Copia, I-“

“It’s too much.”

“What?”  She crouched down next to him, freezing when she saw the tears running down his cheeks.  “What’s too much?”

“The blood.  She’s lost too much.”

Sunshine stayed silent, not wanting to admit the same out loud.  It was too much, too much for anybody to lose.  She turned to look behind her when she heard footsteps and she watched as Swiss, Aether and Dew stopped a few feet away, their hats in their hands.  When she looked back she noticed Rain walking along the edge of the trail, stopping and kneeling down after a moment.  He turned her way, pointing down at the ground before disappearing into the underbrush. 

She gave Copia one last squeeze and then stood up, walking over to where he entered,  noticing that the grass was flattened down.  Her stomach turned thinking of Princess’s body being dragged somewhere and left for the vultures.  Tears started to prick at her eyes and she turned back, meeting Copia’s gaze as he watched her from his knees. 

“This is my fault.”

“Copia, no.”

“I got her into this mess, I took her away from the life she was supposed to have.”

“A life she didn’t want!”  Sunshine moved back to his side and knelt in front of him.  “She wanted to be with you.  She loved you.”

“And now she’s dead.”  The words were practically spit from him and he dropped his hands onto the ground, digging his fingers into the bloody soil.  “They killed her.  They took her away from me.”

His voice was seething with rage and she found herself thinking back to that day of the attack, of the fire.  The only other time she had seen him like this.

She opened her mouth to try and reassure him but the sound of someone rushing through the grass stopped her.  Everyone turned to see Rain sprinting onto the trail, his chest heaving and a knife clutched in his hand.

A knife Sunshine recognized.

“It’s not her!”  Rain grinned and stumbled over to Copia, grabbing his arms and yanking him to his feet.  “It’s not her.  She’s alive.”

Your head hurt.

It was hard to keep your eyes open.  Every time you opened them a wave of dizziness hit you.  There was a constant dull throb, an ache that seemed to echo through your whole body.  It hurt, it hurt so much but you were trying to be strong.  You couldn’t give up, you refused to lose hope. 

You didn’t want the bastards to see you cry. 

Their laughter echoed around the small camp.  You weren’t sure exactly how many there were.  At least three of them had met you on the trail but there could have been more waiting further on.  They had rode up right when you had stopped your horse and been about to turn around.  Copia had to have been back by then and all you wanted to do was see him again.  To have him hold you and tell you everything was going to be ok. 

“She awake yet?”

You shivered at the voice nearby.  It was the same man that had knocked you out.  One moment you had been fighting off a man that had gotten behind you on the horse and the next you had turned to see the butt of a rifle descending upon you.  The ground crunched in front of you and you did your best to steady your breathing, trying not to give away that you were awake. 

“Leave her, we’ll deal with her in the morning.” 

“What if I want to deal with her now?”  A shadow fell over your face, blocking the fire.  You could smell his awful stench and it made you nearly gag around the cloth between your teeth.  “I thought Salty was gonna kill her anyway?”

“Who the fuck knows, he changes his damn mind every day.” 

“Wasn’t Goore supposed to nab her before?” 

You felt a hand on your head and fought to stop from jerking away. 

“They were supposed to, yeah.  But The Cardinal kicked his ass.  Took out like twenty guys too.”

“The fucking Cardinal.”  A glob of moisture hit your cheek and you realized the man had spit on you.  “You sweet on him, girl?” 

His fingers suddenly tightened in your hair and you cried out.  You reached up to try to pull him off but he grabbed the rope around your wrists and slammed them back onto the ground.  The man was grinning at you, when you managed to glare at him.  The pain was even more intense with how hard he was pulling on your hair. 

“Hey!  We aren’t supposed to touch her!”

The man holding you was abruptly shoved away and you yelped when he managed one last yank on your hair.  Tears were falling down your face, soaking the rag around your mouth.  You heard them scuffle close by and you pulled away as far as you could, trying to steer clear of them. 

“What does it matter?  We can just say she showed up like that!  Blame it on The Cardinal.”

“Salty ain’t gonna believe that and you know it.  He’s already gonna be pissed about her face.” 

“Well no one else was doing anything!  I wasn’t gonna drag her back to camp kicking and screaming.”  You dared to look over at the men, flinching when you saw their eyes on you.  “We should just kill her and be done with it.”

“I fucking told you Salty wants her alive.  He made some deal with that asshole at the casino.” 

“Fuck.  Fine, whatever.”  He shoved past the man and walked by, kicking dirt on you as he went.  “But if she freaks out again I’m slicing her throat.” 

Things quieted down around you as he walked off so you tried to even your breathing.  The pain wasn’t getting any better but if you wanted to get out of this you’d need to try to fight through it.  You couldn’t help but think of Copia and what he would do when he found your note.  Would he believe the things you said?  Would he even be coming after you? 

“Hey, girl.”  The one who seemed to be the leader crouched down in front of you.  While you were grateful he had gotten the other man to leave you alone there was no kindness in his eyes.  “Do me a favor and stay put, got it?”

You nodded, wincing when your head swam at the motion.  He didn’t move for a moment and you were starting to worry he was gonna hurt you like the other man did but he finally stood up.  His eyes were cold as they looked down at you and you felt like crying again. 

“No one’s gonna save you so you best behave.  We’re getting paid a pretty penny to bring you to Saltarian alive.”  He smirked then, slipping a knife out of a small sheath at his belt and pointing it down at you.  “But we’ll also get paid well even if you’re dead.”

He didn’t wait to see a response, he simply turned and ambled away.  The tension seeped out of you then but you stayed as still as possible.  It was impossible to stop your tears now and they ran down your face freely, pooling in the dirt beneath you.  Silently you begged for help, begged to be rescued and allowed to escape from the fate others had chosen for you. 

You begged to see Copia one last time. 

“There’s ten of them but only three at the camp with her.”

Copia nodded, taking in everything Mountain and Rain had been relaying to him.  The ten men weren’t going to be a problem, Copia knew they could be easily taken care of.  It was the fact that you were there as well, vulnerable, that made things difficult.

“Where’s Princess?”

Sunshine had stayed close to him since they had stumbled upon the blood on the ground.  Acting like an anchor almost.  He appreciated it more than he could say, he appreciated all of his Ghouls right now so much.  They had stuck with him for so long and through so much.  

They deserved an easier life.

“She’s on the ground by the fire.”  Mountain met Copia’s eyes when he glanced up at him.  “We didn’t see her move but she’s tied up pretty good.”

“Probably just sleeping.”  Sunshine fiddled with one of her knives, slipping it into the sleeve of her coat.  “Or unconscious.”  

“We should have Dew and Swiss snipe the lookouts while the rest of us get closer.  Take ‘em by surprise.”

Copia nodded silently, his thoughts still caught up with the image of you hurt and tied up on the ground.  He flinched when a hand brushed his shoulder, turning to meet Sunshine’s eyes.

“They’ll probably leave first thing in the morning, we should hit them right before then.”  Sunshine stood up and slung her rifle over her shoulder.  “Before they’re ready to go.”

“I don’t want to wait any longer, she could be seriously hurt.”

“If she was seriously hurt they just would have killed her.”  Mountain held up his hands when Copia glared at him.  “They wouldn’t waste time bringing her body all the way to Saltarian’s.  They’d just say you killed her and dumped her body somewhere.”

“It doesn’t matter!  She could be hurt and I don’t want her to be alone with them any more than she has to!”

“Damn it Copia, just listen to us!  We don’t want her to be in any danger either but the best way to avoid her getting hurt any more than she might already be is to wait till the right moment.”

Copa turned away from Sunshine and Mountain, his shoulders sagging as their words sunk in.  They were right, he knew they were right but it was killing him to leave you alone there when you were so close.  He sighed and turned back around, ready to accede their point.

“Fine, we’ll wai–”

A sharp yell rang out from the camp and everyone’s eyes whipped in that direction.  Copia took a few steps forward, his legs suddenly shaking from fear.  In front of them the grass started to shake and Dew flung himself into the small clearing everyone had gathered in.

“She’s running!”

Despite his fear Copia couldn’t help but grin, turning towards the rest of his Ghouls and nodding.

“Then let’s find her first.”

Copia would be so mad at you.

Although technically you weren’t running away from him so you supposed it was okay.  You just couldn’t stand to be around those men any longer.  It seemed like they were getting more and more irritated at your presence as the night had worn on.  The man that seemed to be in charge didn’t have as much control over them as you liked and when he had said he was going to sleep for a few hours you had decided that was your best chance.

Running away was much easier without a dress on and you crashed through the vegetation around the camp.  The moon was high enough to help light your way but even then you still had no idea where you were going.  No idea the direction you were stumbling in.  Not that it really mattered, you just needed to get away.  You’d worry about where you were once you were safe.

“Get back here!”

You made the mistake of turning to look behind you, the dark voice startling you.  It was the man that had spit on you earlier and you shuddered, trying to move even faster to get away.  He wasn’t at the camp when you had run and you had hoped he’d be too far away to catch up to you.  

Unfortunately you weren’t that lucky.

He continued to shout after you, promising to make you regret taking off from camp.  The fear started to take a hold of you again and you felt tears prick at your eyes.  No matter how much you begged your legs to move faster it wasn’t enough.  The man was getting closer and closer until finally you felt his hands grab at your arms and yank you back against him.

“Don’t touch me!”  

The man grunted when you kicked back at him, your foot connecting with his knee.  With an angry growl he tried to wrap an arm around your waist but you slammed your head back against his, grinning when you heard the sickening crunch of his nose.  Your glee was short lived and with a curse he shoved you down onto the ground.

“You’re gonna pay for that.”  He reached for the gun at his belt and pulled it out of its holster, pulling the hammer back and pointing it down at you.  “Salty will just have to find another fiancé.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the shot.  Pictures of Copia appeared in your mind and you let out a broken sob.  You loved him so much and now you’d never get to tell hi–

A loud shot rang out and your entire body flinched, waiting for the inevitable pain of the bullet.  When seconds passed with nothing you slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see the man still there glaring at you.  Instead you saw him falling to the side, his eyes wide and unseeing.  A figure emerged behind him, stepping into the moonlight and you let out a heavy sob when a familiar set of mismatched eyes became visible.

“What did I say about running away?”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh but you were quickly overcome with emotion again.  Your hands reached out for him, desperate for his touch.  Desperate to be held by him again.  Copia quickly obliged, dropping to his knees next to you and gathering you up in his arms.  He pressed kisses into your hair as you cried and whispered promise after promise that he’d never let you get hurt again.

The journey back to the casino was mostly quiet.

When you and Copia had gotten back to the camp the sun was starting to rise in the sky.  The Ghouls milling around and cleaning things up.  Sunshine had been the first to rush over, enveloping you and a long hug that brought more tears to your eyes.  When she pulled away she was holding your dagger out to you, the one you had shoved into the first man that had tried to grab you.

“You did what you had to, Princess.”

You nodded, leaning back into the comfort of Copia’s embrace for a moment.  The other Ghouls came up one after the other.  The biggest surprise for you was Dewdrop, he had thrown his arms around both you and Copia with a wide grin on his face.  Copia had to shove him off when he lingered too long but he fell back with a laugh, winking at you before he let Aether take his place.

The calm Ghoul didn’t embrace you, instead he took your hands and started gently unwrapping the rope that was tied tightly around them.  You hissed as they came off, your skin red and raw underneath.  Copia kept an arm around you as Aether rubbed a salve over the skin, quickly wrapping them in some clean cloth with a promise to clean them again when you got back to the casino.

Your other wounds were given a quick check before Aether nodded at Copia and walked away.  Your knuckles were fairly scraped up with a few larger cuts across them.  The wound on your scalp would definitely need to be cleaned but thankfully it didn’t hurt as much anymore.  The throbbing in your skull had faded to a dull ache as well.  You couldn’t wait to get back to the casino and hopefully have a long bath.

You had planned on asking about what had happened with Terzo and what they had done when they’d gotten back to the casino but as soon as you were settled in front of Copia on Brizio you couldn’t keep your eyes open.  The exhaustion of everything that had happened since you had left The Ministry caught up with you and you were asleep in seconds.  You didn’t even fully wake up until you were riding back into town, the casino large and looming in front of you.

Mountain came over, helping you off Brizio easily.  You were turning to wait for Copia but Cumulus was rushing over, Aurora hot on her heels.

“Come on Princess, let’s get you cleaned up.”  

Copia dropped down next to you and prodded you over to the Ghoulettes.

“Go on, let them take care of you.”  He pulled you close for a moment, not seeming to care about all the eyes on the both of you.  “I’ll meet you in my room soon, yeah?”

You nodded and took Cumulus’s hand, letting her pull you towards the Ghoul’s building.  Her and Aurora chatted while they led you to a room full of steaming bathtubs, quickly helping you out of your dirty clothes and into one of the tubs.  You let their words wash over you, too tired to speak much yourself.  In truth your mind was too busy to pay attention anyway.  Thinking about what might happen now with Copia’s brothers, with Saltarian.  About what might happen with Copia himself.

The sun was completely gone when they were done.  Aurora handed you a familiar dark red shirt and you blushed when she grinned at you.  They gave you a robe next and led you up the back set of stairs to avoid the common area.  It wasn’t as loud as you had expected and you imagined that most everyone was probably tired themselves or working in the casino.  The door to Copia’s room was familiar and welcome and you gladly accepted Aurora’s hug when she let you in and left.

You tried not to be disappointed that Copia wasn’t there.

His room was much like it was when you had left it the other night, although it was clear that he had left it in a rush.  You made your way to the bed, dropping the robe on the floor and sitting down.  There was a soft knock on the door and you quickly grabbed a blanket, getting your bare legs covered right as Copia walked in.

“How are you feeling, Principessa?”

“Good.  Better.”  You gave him a soft smile as he walked over, your eyes taking him in.  He was only in his pants and a button up shirt, his suspenders clinging to his shoulders.  “Clean.”

He laughed softly as he knelt at your feet, his eyes roaming over the blanket for a moment before setting a bowl of water and a rag down onto the floor.

“Let’s see those hands, eh?”

Copia was quiet as he cleaned your knuckles.

You stayed quiet too, content to just be close to him.  To be someplace safe with him.  He had scrubbed his face of the grime from the road and the fight so you were able to see him without his paint.  A rare treat that let you see the bags under his eyes, the toll that the life he had been living had taken on him.  You let yourself imagine a different life for him, one that had no battles and no worries.  A peaceful life in the country maybe, on a farm with room for his Ghouls...

And hopefully room for you too.

He pressed his rag into a deeper cut and you hissed, pulling your hand away to cradle it against your chest.

“Mi dispiace, Principessa.  I’m not sure I have the most gentle hands for this.”  He dropped the rag into the bowl of water and sat back on his heels, his hands resting on your blanket covered knees.  “Let me go get Aether.  Or Sunshine?  They’ll do a better job than me.”

“No!”  You dropped your hands over his, covering his own scraped up skin with your own.  “Please, no.  Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not much of a nurse.”

“I don’t need you to be anything, Copia.  I just need you here with me.”

He leaned forward then, moving back onto his knees and dropping his head into your lap.  You felt his lips brush against the backs of your hands, ghosting along the cuts and bruises you had gotten.  His shoulders shook slightly and you couldn’t help but fall forward yourself, burying your nose in his soft hair.

“I’ll never let you get hurt again.”  

Copia leaned back, freeing one of his hands from yours to cup your cheek.  His thumb brushed across your skin briefly before he pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours.  The kiss was one you didn’t think you would ever forget.  It was soft and full of promises, promises neither of you had spoken aloud yet but they were there between you regardless.  All too quickly he pulled away, a soft smile on his face.

It was your favorite smile of his.

“I’m ok, I’m safe.  Thanks to you.”  He ducked his head down like he always did in moments like this but you let him.  Deciding a little teasing would help ease the heavy emotions between you.  “Although I think the Ghouls did most of the work.”

Copia laughed as he took the rag up again, squeezing the excess water out before taking one of your hands once more.

“I don’t know, I think you were doing pretty good on your own.”

You couldn’t help but grin, proud that Copia thought so.  Some of his hair fell across his forehead and you reached out with your other hand to brush it back, letting your fingers linger against his skin a little longer than necessary.  He looked up from cleaning your hand and caught your eyes.  Slowly he turned his head to press a kiss to your palm before looking back down to your hand.

As he worked you let your mind wander, running over every moment you had shared with Copia since you had met.  You had to stifle a laugh at that.  ‘Met’ wasn’t exactly the best way to describe your initial meeting.  The man had kidnapped you after all.  The same man you had spent your nights dreaming about.  An escape from a world of being used as a bargaining chip in your father’s business deals and a future of being something purely ornamental.

But all that changed with a wink and a grin from the man at your feet.

“I’m pretty sure I broke that one guy’s nose.”  Copia chuckled, shaking his head while he muttered something in Italian.  “What was that?”

“Nothing important.”

You poked his leg with your foot, the blanket moving out of the way to expose part of your bare leg.  Copia stopped cleaning your hand when he saw it, not moving at all except for the flexing of his jaw.  

“Tell me.”  He still hadn’t looked away from your leg, like his brain was having trouble processing the knowledge that you were naked save for his borrowed shirt.  You gave him another poke, this time jamming your toes against him a little harder.  “Tell me right now.”

“Have you always been this demanding?”

“Yes.  Now tell me what you said.”  When he remained silent you attempted to poke him again but he grabbed your foot, easily holding onto it when you tried to pull it away.  You shivered when he ran his calloused thumb along the side.  “Copia.”  

“Diavolessa.”

“In English!”

Copia finally looked away from your leg, slowly running his eyes up your body until he was looking right into yours.  His soft smile had now been replaced by that insufferable grin of his and despite how much it annoyed you it was hard not to match it with one of your own.

“Per favore.”

“Per fav–oh!  Copia, no!”  

Your words ended in a shriek as he dug his fingers into the bottom of your foot.  You fell back on your elbows and tried to kick away from him, desperate to escape the tickling sensation.  With a deep laugh he finally relented and let go.  Your back hit the wall beside his bed as you scrambled to get away, the blanket completely falling from your legs and getting pushed to the side with the movement.

He stood up then, his eyes dark as they stayed fixed on you.  Where your boldness came from you weren’t sure but you spread your legs slowly before tucking them under you and rising to your knees.  Copia reached up and shrugged out of his suspenders, his fingers quickly going to work on the buttons of his shirt.

“Come here, she-devil.”

“Per favore.”

His smile was brilliant and it had you moving closer despite him not saying anything.  When you were close enough he quickly reached out and grabbed you around your waist, yanking your body against his.  Your hands landed on his chest to keep yourself steady, your fingers tangling in the dark hair that covered him.  He dipped his head down but you quickly moved yours back, raising your eyebrow when he let out a heavy sigh.

“Please, Principessa.”

You both moved at the same time, your mouths meeting in a desperate kiss.  One of his hands dropped to cover your ass and when his fingers flexed against your flesh you moaned into his mouth.  The noise had him breaking away with a moan of his own but he stayed close, sliding both of his hands down your back until they were gripping the back of your thighs.  

“Copia, wha-”  

He yanked your legs out from under you and when your back hit his bed again you laughed, nearly giddy with happiness.  Copia finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it over his head, immediately unbuckling his belt and then working on the buttons of his pants.  In the next moment he was naked in front of you, standing proudly in the moonlight but with fidgeting fingers at his sides.

Copia was breathtaking.  It didn’t matter that you had never seen anyone else like this, Copia was the only one you needed to see this way.  His shoulders and arms were strong, well muscled from years of work.  Your eyes moved down his chest, lingering on his tattoo for a moment before running down to his soft belly and sides.  His thick thighs flexed as he climbed onto the bed, slowly moving between your legs and then reaching out to grip the bottom of his shirt you wore.

When he hesitated you took over and pulled the deep red shirt you loved to steal over your head.  Copia looked you over much like you had done to him, his eyes lingering on the bruises you had received.  He was hesitating again, like he was afraid to move, afraid to touch you.  It was strange not seeing him confident and cocky.  You reached out for his hands, tangling your fingers together and pulling them to cover your heart.

“Principessa…”

“I am here, we are here.  Safe and together.”  You lifted your foot and ran it up and down his thigh.  “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

“I won’t.  I’ll give you everything.”  He pulled a hand away and slipped his arm around your waist, tugging you across the bed so your head was laying on his pillows.  “Anything you want.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers brushing against his sideburn.  Copia lowered himself down to settle against you, holding himself up by his elbows.  The moonlight caught his eyes and like always the white one gave that almost otherworldly glow.  You trailed your fingers across his cheek and down to his mouth, running them along his full bottom lip before dropping it down to your chest.  

“I just want you.”

It was like a dam broke between you, Copia swiftly lowered his head to yours and took your mouth in a rough kiss.  Oh you would never tire of this, of the way he seemed to use his entire body to kiss you.  He buried a hand in your hair and tilted your head so he could deepen it.  You opened your mouth under his and his tongue immediately tangled with yours.  

At the same time his hips started grinding down against you, his hard cock brushing across your lower belly.  You could feel him leaking already as the tip moved across your skin, trailing the proof of how turned on he was.  Of how turned on you were making him.  That knowledge had you pressing harder back against him, hooking a leg around the back of his leg to try to get as close as possible.

Copia pulled away, groaning when you ground up towards him again.  He began nipping at your lips, causing little zings of pleasure to shoot through you.  When you tried to capture his lips again he smiled and pulled away just out of reach.

“Patience, Principessa.”  He began to drop kisses down your chin and along your jawline.  His teeth nipped at your earlobe, sucking it between his lips to soothe the hurt with his tongue before letting go.  “I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time.”

“Since wh-oh, since when?”

He didn’t answer at first, content to keep kissing you.  His lips trailed down your neck to your shoulders before moving to your collar bones.  You hissed when he nipped there too but he quickly ran his tongue across the mark, smirking when he looked up to see you watching him.

“Probably since that first day when you busted my nose.”

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand to try to stifle your laughter.  It didn’t last long though, Copia continued his path down your chest until his mouth was hovering over a breast.  His hot breath had you trembling with anticipation, waiting for him to continue his worship of your body.  It seemed like forever before he peeked his tongue out and flicked it across your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

“Copia, don’t tease.  I just…”

His mouth dropped down, pulling the tip of your breast into his mouth and sucking.  Your body bucked off the bed and you buried your hands in his hair to keep him there.  The hot, wet suction of his mouth felt so good and it only amplified when he nipped at your nipple.  You mewled when he pulled off with a pop, your hands trying to keep him close to your chest.

“In my church, Principessa, this is one way we worship.”  He leaned down and pulled your nipple between his lips, hollowing his cheeks and sucking roughly.  Copia slid his free hand up your chest and took hold of your other breast, massaging it between his calloused fingers for a moment before he pulled his mouth away again.  “You are my altar.”  

Your body was trembling in earnest now as he moved lower, his mouth and tongue leaving a trail across your belly button and then stopping right above your cunt.  He pressed his hands against the insides of your thighs, pushing them apart so you were open before him.  You watched Copia lower his head and take a deep breath right over you before he groaned deep in his chest.  

He lowered his head even more until his nose brushed against your clit, teasing around it a few times before sliding his tongue out and across the small nub.  Your hips bucked up immediately, desperate for more contact.  Copia must have been just as desperate as you because he quickly went at it again, tonguing your clit over and over again until it was red and swollen.  

You were a whimpering mess already, your thighs quivering beneath his hands as his mouth worshiped you.  He pulled your clit between his lips, suckling it like he had done your nipple.  The sensation was racing you towards your orgasm and you buried a hand in his hair to try to keep him there.  You wanted to come so badly, you wanted to hit that peak under his mouth.  Copia groaned around your clit when your nails dug into his scalp and after one last hard suck you finally got what you needed, your orgasm tearing through you and making you cry out.

As you laid there panting Copia was still making noises against your cunt, his mouth now lower and his tongue licking long stripes between your lips.  Your hand fell out of his hair and you instead covered one of his hands on your thighs.  You barely had the strength to do anything but watch him, watch as your wetness covered his nose and mouth.  His mustache was soaked and shining in the moonlight as well and it tickled your sensitive skin as he continued to mouth at you.

When he tongued across your trembling entrance you finally moved, your hips jumping up to meet his mouth involuntarily.  Copia chuckled darkly, his eyes finally leaving your wet, pink flesh to catch your gaze.  He didn’t look away as he pressed his tongue against it, his eyes only drifting closed when he was able to push it inside of you and lap at the inside of your walls.  

“Ah!  Copia!”

He kept his mouth on you but you could feel his growl echo into you.  Your cries of his name spurred him on and he lapped roughly at you, closing his lips around your entrance and sucking, like he was desperate for every drop of your previous release.  You didn’t even notice one of his hands leaving your thigh before his mouth pulled away and two fingers prodded at your entrance.  They easily slipped inside and he went to work thrusting them in and out of you, scissoring his fingers off and on to stretch you.

To get you ready for him.

Your blood was so loud in your ears you didn’t even register Copia was speaking at first.  His voice was low as he continued to pump his fingers.

“...mine, Principessa and I will give you everything I can.  Anything in my power.”  

Tears pricked at your eyes as you watched him, as you listened to him.  You were close to another orgasm and you were absolutely desperate for it, your hips moving to meet his thrusting fingers.  Copia pulled his hand off your thigh and gripped the base of his cock, letting out an almost pained groan as he squeezed himself.  The sight of him nearly losing control of himself was all it took for you to hit your peak again and you came with a shuddering cry, your inner walls contracting around his fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you drifted in that zone of pleasure.  The brush of lips across your cheeks finally brought you back to yourself and when you opened your eyes Copia was right there, gazing down at you with such a look of fondness you nearly had to close your eyes again.  He must have wiped his mouth off but his mustache was still in a state and you reached up with a shaking hand to help get it under control, smiling when he rolled his eyes.

“Anything in your power?”

“Sì.”

His cock brushed against you, still hard and leaking.  You spread your legs to try to open yourself up for him again.  Needing to feel him against you.  Needing to feel him in you.

“Only you, Copia.  That’s all.”  He smiled, ducking his head down for a moment to collect himself.  When he raised it up again his smile was wide and you couldn’t help but match it while you brushed his hair off his forehead again.  “At least for right now.”

He dropped his head into the crook of your shoulder, his body quaking with laughter.  You took the opportunity to wrap a leg around his waist and press yourself against his cock.  His laughter turned into a deep groan and he quickly rose up to kiss you roughly.  The taste of yourself on his lips had you whimpering, chasing the taste with your tongue.  You angled your hips so his cock brushed against your cunt and he broke away quickly with a growl.

“Diavolessa.”

You couldn’t find the strength to respond, you had become so desperate for him.  Desperate for him to enter you and make you his.  You continued to rock your hips against him, wanting him so badly you felt delirious with it.  When he began to move back you tightened your leg, worried he was going to move away.  Copia whispered something soft in Italian towards you before dropping another kiss to your lips.

He stayed close, but moved away enough to settle more comfortably between your legs.  You watched with bated breath as he stroked his cock, his eyes briefly falling shut.  Feeling bold you reached out and covered his hand with yours, helping him pleasure himself.  He called you a she-devil again under his breath but you just smiled and continued to touch him.  His cock was hot and throbbing, twitching almost desperately towards you.

“Are you ready, Principessa?”  

You nodded desperately, your mouth falling open when he gently removed your hand from his cock and began to press himself against your entrance.  Your body welcomed him, opening around the head of his cock and stretching as he pushed inside.  You wrapped your arms around his back and clung to him.  Worried that if you let go he would disappear and that this would be a dream.  A sob left you and Copia immediately pulled back so he could see your face.

“I’m sorry, I just…I thought I wouldn’t see you again and now…”

“You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”  

Copia started to pull out, his cock dragging along your walls slowly for just a moment before he pushed back in.  He continued to move like that until he was finally fully inside of you, his hips flush against yours.  You kept your arms tight around him, holding him close so his face was hovering over yours.

The moonlight still highlighted his face and your eyes traced his freckles as your body adjusted to him being inside of you.  The silver in his hair shone just like his white eye and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling up at him.  You had to tell him, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I love you.”

You weren’t sure what to expect, you weren’t even sure he felt the same but it didn’t matter.  You needed him to know.  Copia let out a breath, lowering his head to kiss you briefly before pulling up with a smile on his face.

“E ti amo.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, over and over along your lips and cheeks and nose.  

“Copia?”

“I love you, Principessa.  More than I can say and more than I have any right to.”  He moved away then, holding himself up by his hands as he stared down at you.  Slowly he began to pull his cock out, stopping when only the tip was inside of you.  “You’re mine.  Forever.”

He pushed back in, slow and steady.  You pressed your head back against the pillow as your body took him, the stretch delicious.  Copia stayed flush against you, watching your face like he was waiting for something.  You let out a breathless laugh as you wrapped both your legs around his waist and kept him close.

“Forever.”

Go to Chapter 13: And You Can Hold Me

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[multi-fandom-simp]

Forever and always.. or maybe never. Part 2

[Part 1] [Alternate Ending]

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Hanahakis Disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: You're dead, and now Aemond must suffer the consequences of loving someone he can never have. How long until he can no longer handle it?

❗️TW❗️: Harsh language, mentions of blood and throwing up, character death, mentions of sexual situations, mentions of infidelity, slight violence, arguments, mentions of childbirth

(A/N: Part 2 is here! It took me a minute to put this together because I had so many ideas on how to do it, so I hope it is to your liking. I would love to hear thoughts, opinions, and ideas on it as well, I'm always open for criticism/suggestion! My asks/inbox are always open as well, I love nothing more than to talk about my fics, or just to you guys in general! I'm always up for having more mutuals on here! Also, if you are interested in the alternate ending for part 1, I posted a poll on what you would like to read in it, so feel free to vote. Anyways, enjoy!)

Word Count: 2,329

Taglist:  @libdarkheart @bibli0thecary @earthangels-things @iiamthehybrid @bellameshipper @introverbatim (I believe that is everyone who asked to be tagged?? I apologize if I missed anyone)

It was hours before anyone was allowed to take your body. Aemond had sat there, clutching you as you turned cold and stiff, staring off into the distance as the young boy inside his head wailed endlessly. It had been Helaena who convinced Aemond to let you go, and Daeron who supported him while he carried you to the maesters. Alicent was the first to cry out as you were pronounced officially dead, a piece of the queen's heart seeping through her lips as she wept against your hand. The small smart-mouthed girl that arrived nearly a decade and a half ago now lay unspeaking before her very eyes. 

“Tell me you were there” Alicent croaked out. 

“ Mother?” Daeron was the only one to question the queen. Helaena knew the question was not for her and Aemond still stood unmoving. 

“ Tell me you were by her side, Aemond! That she did not die alone!” Alicent stared directly at Aemond now, even if he did not look back. 

“ You think so low of me, that I would let her die unheld?” Aemond whispered.

“ I did not think you would cause her such heartbreak and yet here we are!” Alicent cried out. The fire in her eyes might even make you believe she was a Targaryen in more than just marriage. 

“ I did not know” Aemond argued softly. 

“ Then you will not know the time of her rest as well” All air sucked itself from the room and Aemond’s cardinal-rimmed eyes shot to his mother. 

“ You can not keep me from it” Where an authoritative edge was expected, vulnerability came instead. 

“ I am your mother and the queen dowager, I will do as I please” Alicent spoke harshly, “ I will take Aemys to the ceremony. I expect you to get rid of that bastard wet nurse in the meantime.” 

“ Mother-”

“ I will hear no more, Aemond! If I see you there, you will be thrown in a cell until it’s over” Alicent warned one last time while brushing hair from your face. She bent down to place a motherly kiss on your crown before turning away swiftly. Shortly after her departure, Daeron said his peace as well, followed by Helaena. Finally, Aemond stood alone with you once more. It didn’t take long for his legs to weaken and buckle, taking him down to his knees. The memory of the last time he had been on his knees for you tore a sob from his throat. 

“What are you doing?” You giggled in astonishment as Aemond removed his tunic and knelt at your feet. His hands dipped in the warm lilac water that your swollen feet soaked in. 

“ I’m going to massage the knots from your feet” Aemond explained, watching as your face contorted in bliss when his fingers dug into the right spot. 

“ That is what the maids are for, my love.” You proclaimed before laughing again, ”Most husbands would scoff at the thought of massaging their lady wife.”

“ I am not most husbands, am I?” Aemond countered, smirking up at you. He took one of his hands from the water to caress your swollen stomach. Though he had soaked your night shift with water, you could care less.

“ I suppose not” You sighed contently, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“ Avy jorrāelan, Ñuha prūmia. Besides, it is the least I can do when I am the reason why you ache in the first place” Aemond continued to soothe the bump, hoping to feel movement. Kicks were his favorite, they usually occurred whenever you laughed. As if on cue, a flutter of movement blossomed underneath his touch as you chuckled at his statement. 

“ If I recall correctly, I was a part of that same reason” You took a towel from beside you as spoke and let it flutter to the floor. Carefully, and with assistance, you removed your feet from the water onto the dry cotton. 

“ Mhm, that is true, you even had me on my back at one point” Aemond snorted.

“ As I remember, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit” You teased. 

“ Did I? Perhaps you’ll have to remind me” Aemond surged at you before you could even comprehend what was happening. His lips moved deeply against yours as he shifted you to lay back. 

“ Aem!” You gasped in delight, holding onto his shoulders.

“ Yes, Ñuha prūmia?” He cooed mischievously, gleaming down at you like the Cheshire cat.

“ This is nowhere near the position we were talking of, ñuha zaldrīzes!” Dragon. Your dragon, always. Aemond nipped at your neck upon hearing the endearment that always caused his heart to stutter. 

“ Mhm, ‘tis not, but I quite like this position” He murmured hotly against your neck. 

“ You won’t like it when it’s the position I give birth in” You whispered. It’s not that you were scared of your first child’s birth or of death itself, you just worried about never meeting your child if you did perish. 

“ Stop that” Aemond scolded. 

“ Stop what, I’m-”

“ Overthinking. I can feel it” He rose slightly to press his forehead to yours, "Both of you will make it out just fine, though I imagine the babe might still scream well afterward” 

Aemond was right, Aemys did cry well into the night after his birth until you were awake and well to hold him that is. It’s ironic, Aemond thinks, how similar that was to now. You were unconscious after a taxing birth, now you lay unconscious on a pyre. Aemys screamed for you then, and he screams for you now, despite Aemond being there both times. 

“ Muña! Muñaaaaa!” Aemond silently braided a piece of the thrashing toddler's hair as he kicked and screamed. Even at three years of age, he was clever enough to know something was wrong. 

“ Muñaaa-”

“ Aemys, please..” Aemond sighed tiredly, turning the child to face him. 

“ Jaelagon. Muña.” Want. Mother. By the seven Aemond wanted you too, but he couldn’t have you. The realization caused a tightness in his chest, a breathless one, but he refused to cough. 

“ I know, byka zaldrīzes, I’m sorry.” Little Dragon. Aemys truly was still little and it broke Aemond’s heart that you would never get to see him grow big and strong. He brought the distressed toddler to his chest and held him tight, tears soaking onto the small amethyst tunic he had been wrangled into. 

“ Aemond” Alicent called out from the doorway, poised in an onyx dress with a belt of deep purple jewels to match her grandson and a hand full of lilacs. Your faithful hyena, Lark appeared as well, striding into the room slowly. 

“ Be good for your grandmother” Aemond spoke quietly but firmly, before standing to full height. He watched as Aemys toddled over to Alicent, giggling as Lark lapped the tears off his cherubic cheeks. 

“ Muña?” Aemys whispered, your eyes shining up at Alicent through his.

“Mama?” the young girl croaked, peering up at a young Alicent Hightower.

“ Your mother isn’t here-” Her voice faltered at the heartbreak in your innocent eyes, “but surely we can see her later, alright? Now, what else would you like, little one?” 

“Flowers?” Alicent chuckled, before taking your small hand in hers. 

“ I suppose I can show you the lilacs..they’re my favorite” The queen whispered down to you, smiling when your face lit up. You may not have been hers, and despite Viserys being the one to invite you, it was the queen who took you under her wing. 

“Mother.” Alicent’s head snapped up to look at Aemond, breaking from her memories. She blinked rapidly to dispel the water weight from her eyes. 

“ Your mother isn’t here, but we’ll see her…someday” Alicent reassured, taking Aemys little hand in her own. Aemond watched as they went before leaving the room himself. He trudged up to a small room at the top of the tallest viewpoint in the castle. Dreamfyre was circling the skies, waiting for Helaena to say Dracarys. 

“ Aemond!” The sound of his name on your tongue lapped at his ear and your footsteps echoed past him. Dreamfyre now flew towards the grassy knoll. 

“You’re handsome to me” The ghost of your fingers prickled goosebumps near his scar. Dreamfyre landed upon the ground. 

“Avy jorrāelan”

 “Avy jorrāelan.” Your proclamation of love faded away with a hot wind as Aemond’s rang through the air. Dreamfyre hurled fire as Aemond hurled petals. 

Whereas your suffering lasted two months, Aemond’s lasted a year. He never tried to conceal, nor cure it. Aemond once said he would die without you and he meant it. Over the course of his downfall, several had tried to convince him to remarry.

“She’s gone, Aemond-”

“ Do not speak my name. I am a prince, refer to me as such.” Aemond snapped coldly at Alys, who stood in front of him and his family in the hall. Unfortunately with a slightly swollen belly accompanying her. The very sight of it made Alicent and even Helaena nauseous. You had only been gone a few months.

“ Apologies, my prince-” 

“ I did not say your prince, I am nothing of yours.” Aemond corrected once more. 

“ You were once” Alys spoke, gazing wickedly at the man before her. 

“ You tricked me, bewitched me” Aemond sneered.

“ I merely used your lady wife’s blood to make you think I was her. You, Aemond Targaryen are the one who chose to believe it. You began to love m-” 

“ I loved her, not you! It will always be her-” Aemond turned swiftly as he felt the familiar dryness creep up his throat and out onto his hand, bringing rivers of scarlet in its wake. 

“ I was going to offer myself up to you for marriage, but it seems that your wife still calls to you even from the ground.” Alys tuts, “Such a pity that I couldn’t have either of you in the end.” 

Pity. It was a thing that Aemond found himself receiving often. Lords would offer their pity on losing such a gorgeous young wife. Ladies of the court pitied him for losing the only woman who could ever love a monster like him. Even Aegon pitied him, but not for the right reasons. 

“It’s a pity that you lost your wife brother, because now I have to find you another one through alliance. Which mother loathes me for because she believes it’s too soon” Aegon grumbled the last part into his chalice as to avoid his mother's glare. 

“ I will not take another wife” Aemond didn’t bother to eat nor look at anyone, he was only sitting at the table for duty’s sake anyway. In his head, he was in a whole other world where you were alive and happy. 

“ You will remarry, to a Baratheon girl. You will remarry, forget about your old wife, which will get rid of those damned petals you leave everywhere, and then sire more children” Aegon chuckled darkly. 

“ No.” Aemond refuted. 

“ Yes-”

“No! I will not take another wife as long as I lo-” Aemond wasn’t able to say the word much these days without it being an instant reaction. The blonde looked down at his hands and saw not only flowers but thorns. He was nearing his end. 

Aemond’s end wouldn’t come for many more months. Leaving him time to try and end his life quicker. Many morrows would pass and for each one Aemond sat on his knees in front of Vhagar, but nothing ever came of it. Either the dragon refused to kill another rider, or she agreed with Alicent on the fact that Aemond deserved to suffer as you did. Aemond also lived to see Aemys reach another birthday. He spent as much time with the boy as he could in between his duties. It was the only time he could ever get a glimpse of you outside of his mind. The four-year-old’s eyes had become windows to your soul. Not only did Aemys have your eyes, but he had begun to display your mannerisms as well. Mimicking the way you used to carry yourself, the way you talked, and ate as well. The only thing he held of Aemond was hair and emotional range. Though the latter did not develop until after your death. 

“ Aemys, father must go now.” Aemond stood in full armor at the child’s bedchamber door. 

“ Okay.” Aemys spoke with a soft smile before figuring out how to say his next words, “Tell Muña I say hi”

Aemond’s expression fell before it was quickly replaced. He memorized the look of his son once more before taking off down the hall towards Vhagar. Aemys’s words repeated through his head as he flew toward God's Eye. Blood trailed from the corner of his lips and nose, but he ignored and braved on. He would die a dragon rider's death, a brave death, so that he may meet you again in the afterlife. The universe, however, like before, had crueler plans. Air began to solidify into silk beneath the tissue of Aemond’s lungs. His bronchioles turned to thorns, and trachea to roots, all while his body remained the soil. 

“ I-I lov-” For the first time since your death, Aemond sobbed. He needed to say it, needed to say he loved you before he died. The sky, the clouds, the stars, the universe, all of it needed to know how he truly loved you. Aemond could not see caraxes flying towards him with a rider confused on why his nephew was kneeled over before the battle had even begun. Daemon would not attack an injured rider, it would bring him no pride or glory. Instead, he watched as Aemond slid sideways from Vhagar and plummeted towards the river. 

“ Avy jorrāelan” “ Avy jorrāelan” This time it was your proclamation of love that engulfed Aemond’s just as the river of sea and blood consumed him. Aemond Targaryen could not feel the crisp coldness of the water, only the soft warmth of your hands pulling him in.

[albatmobile]

I need another fic where jayroy x reader is in the league for… reasons 🫣

I also now need this 😫

the other fic (x)

a conundrum of redheaded proportions

next: [2] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4k includes: misunderstandings, confessions, selectively mute!reader, blow jobs, vaginal sex, deep throating, praise kink, spitroasting, begging, lots of smut y'all ur welcome, voyeurism, jealousy, Justice league AU

𓅪 previous hookup fem!reader x jason todd, eventual fem!reader x roy harper, eventual fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

my Hero OC! Cardinal comes from this series: tumblr [1] [2] | ao3

It's a well-known fact amongst The League that you like redheads.

From your first fling with Wally, drunken kiss with Kori, to your summer romance with Kate and that one-time thing with Jason back when his locks were more fiery than his personality, you’ve always seemed to gravitate towards red. 

Hell, he’d even heard rumors that you’d been in a threesome with Babs and Artemis on your mission to Themyscira a summer or so ago. 

What Roy can’t figure out is why you’ve never even talked to him let alone looked at him.

Is he a defective redhead or something?

Just approach her, they said.

Just introduce yourself, they said.

Well, he’s fucking tried.

You aren’t one to talk in uniform and only the redheads in the league, excluding Roy, know what you look like underneath your infamous, skin-tight burgundy vinyl. 

And then, there you are.

Right in front of him.

Roy doesn’t realize his breath’s stopped until his head begins to feel faint and he’s forced to gulp in air desperately like Spongebob in that one episode.

And then you’re walking toward him.

Jason shifts beside him, but Roy’s more focused on you.

Your hips sway hypnotically with each purposeful step you take closer, pulling Roy deeper into your unforgiving trance.

Your hand makes a tiny wave, so tiny Roy’s sure if he blinked he’d miss it, right at him.

No fucking way.

Roy’s hand shoots up with a nervous wave back that stills as soon as you shoot him a questioning head tilt. He hears the leather of Jason’s jacket shift from behind him and looks just in time to see his friend finish waving at you.

Roy isn’t salty.

“There’s no way she’s hot under that shit,” he mutters lowly to his friend once you’ve passed by.

Roy’s salty.

“I fucked her,” Jason says the statement like it’s an actual response and not just a blatant brag.

“Yeah,” Roy huffs, focusing back on packing up his gym bag, “so?”

“So,” Jason quirks a knowing brow, “you dissing my taste in women?”

“No!” Roy cries out, then slumps back against the locker room bench with a groan. “Is there something wrong with me, Jay? Am I the ugly one?”

“What does your mug being a mess have to do with her?” 

Jason’s never had a quiet voice. His baritone growl always demanded attention whether he meant it to or not. Unfortunately for Roy, this time it seems to have attracted your attention because your usual confident gate stutters just slightly enough for Roy to take notice.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Roy smacks Jason in the arm, yelping slightly when he retaliates with full force. 

“Jesus, dude. You tryin’ to kill me, or something?” Roy groans.

“You tryin’ to offend me, or something?” Jason mocks him.

Roy finishes zipping up his bag with a dramatic zip and huff, “Course not. Sorry, Jaybird.”

Another quick hit to Roy’s already undoubtedly bruised arm.

“Not here,” Jason chastises him, his nose wrinkling easily at the offending nickname. 

Roy watches as he looks towards all the hidden cameras in the room, something they’d both mapped out within the first few days of being welcomed aboard the Watchtower.

“For sure,” Roy agrees distractedly as he catches a glimpse of Barry’s outfit and briefly mistakes it for you. “Sorry, I’m just out of it today.”

“So I see,” Jason says, raising an easy brow. 

“Nothing gets passed you now, eh?” Roy tries to joke but Jason only returns him with a knowing, read: asshole-ish, look like he’s already figured Roy out and, hell, he probably has. He catches a whiff of his uniform and winces, picking distastefully at the fabric on the chest of his sweaty Arsenal getup. “Fuck off, man,” he huffs. “Let’s just eat so we can get the fuck out of these monkey suits.” 

𓅪𓅪𓅪

The cafeteria is nearly empty at this hour, Roy notes with a pleased hum. He quickly becomes distracted, however, by the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen.

Algie and Rita are behind the counter again tonight, so Roy knows the food’s going to be fire. 

“Ladies,” Roy greets playfully with a waggle of his brows at the elderly women. As a result, they award him with an extra scoop of mashed potatoes. Score!

Jason greets them politely before following behind Roy to the closest table.

It’s always quiet around this hour, though it doesn’t mean heroes are necessarily holed up asleep in their rooms. Mission stragglers, graveyard shift Watchtower workers and heroes zeta-tubing in for their debriefs are constantly ongoing. In quiet moments like this, though, Roy really does feel like it’s just him and Jay in space.

“So, you going to tell me what’s been bugging you tonight?” Jason asks though Roy thinks he already knows.

Roy glances around the empty cafeteria, save for a single table taken in the way back, before leaning in to whisper anyway. “It’s that chick.”

Jason shoots the redhead an unimpressed look. “Chick, seriously?” he admonishes Roy.

Roy sighs, pushing around the mashed potatoes on his tray, “I’m not gonna say her name when you already know.”

Jason simply hums in response as he unlocks and removes his helmet to eat.

Roy has never been quiet when it comes to the people he’s interested in and, sure, that’s how it started off with you, but you’re different. 

No, literally, you don’t speak. 

Not that you can’t, per se, just selectively and never to Roy.

Except one time. Your first mission alone with him.

Roy was usually unable to understand your movements, signals and signs outside the costume (not that you were ever caught dead on the Watchtower out of costume). After all the years of battling side by side on missions, Roy knows your battlefield code like the back of his hand. Slight shift of your head to the right: back you up, shift to the left: back up, all the way down to your cute little hand movements that call out battle strategy. 

Quiet but mighty. Never one to mess with. 

Roy knows firsthand.

The one thing he’d never known until that one time, though? Your voice.

It was during the midst of a battle with Enchantress and Gorilla Grodd. You and Roy had been put in charge of reconnaissance for team Alpha when a henchman strayed way too close to the tree Roy was stationed behind. 

You’d clicked your comm button three times to alert Roy, but it was already too late. 

The guard startled and went for his radio, forcing Roy to draw an arrow. Though the hit itself was quiet, the thud of the man’s armored body was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the general vicinity. 

Cutely enough, you turned to Roy, watching as he drew his bow and nodded to you as you got into a defensive position. 

He then proceeded to watch you take on tens of henchmen at a time, disarming their guns before they could even aim them. It was a shame that Roy’d been so preoccupied with your safety, no, namely distracted by how the shiny material of your suit stretched across your huge ass, to focus on protecting himself.

Up until that point, everything had been going smoothly. That is, until-

“ROY!”

You weren’t supposed to use names other than alias’ out of the field, but your slip-up had seemed so unintentional he didn’t need to see underneath the mask to know you were panicking. He could hear your regret in your loud silence for allowing your voice to slip through and leak into the chilly night air.

Your body crashed into his with such a ferocious force, that he had no choice but to shift out of the way. He hit the ground and you landed on top of him just in time for him to avoid the deadly ray of Enchantress’ incantation. 

You, however? Not so much. 

By jumping in front of Roy, you’d taken the brunt of the attack practically head-on.

The shock of hearing his name from you lasted mere milliseconds before you were on the ground, screaming bloody murder under the intense pain from the spell you’d just saved Roy from. He’d never thanked you for taking a proverbial bullet of kinds for him, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t at least tried. You’d been conveniently absent from the post-mission debrief and, after checking out the empty med bay, Roy hung around outside the women’s locker room long enough to get booted by a wary Supes. 

Eventually, Roy gave up trying to catch you and, thus, his ‘thank you’ went unsaid.

And now, here you are. Again.

Seeing you twice in one night, Roy feels like he’s hit the jackpot. 

Jason, being the asshole he is, waves you over as soon as his eyes catch yours.

Your thick thighs move languidly, shifting from side to side with each tantalizing sway of your perfect figure. You’re stunning.

Roy clears his throat, coming back down to the present moment just in time for Jason to… introduce the two of you to each other. Huh?

Jason and Roy are the only ones in the cafeteria, Algie and Rita having reverted back to stirring pots in the back kitchen. 

It’d be weird if they made you sit alone, right? 

Right? 

That has to be why Jason is doing all of this.

Your flashy red stops right in front of him before he has a chance to think further on the topic. At this point, you’re close enough that your enchanting perfume has slowly started to invade his senses. Your scent quickly takes complete hold over him, making you the only thing he can focus on.

At Roy’s silent staring, Jason clears his throat, “Roy, meet Cardinal. Cardinal, Roy.”

Even behind the security of his domino mask, Roy can practically see the mirth in the outlaw’s emerald eyes. 

Roy’s completely lost for words. 

Luckily, it doesn’t seem to be an issue with you very much being in the same boat. 

He watches your every minute movement diligently so as not to miss this crucial moment. His eyes openly flick over your curves while your attention is diverted toward the raven-haired man next to you. 

It’s been years since Roy’s been this close to you and he can’t help but greedily drink your hypnotizing presence down to the last drop like a fucking dog. If Elastic Man and Booster Gold hadn’t been occupying the only other table in the cafeteria, Roy would take you right here and now, Jason’s voyeur-ass be damned. 

Roy watches as you huff slightly and shoulder his best friend’s arm lightly. Jason laughs easily at the cute contact, leaving Roy to wish he knew you well enough to be in on the joke, too. Well, to be honest, he just wishes he knew you period.

Roy clears his throat, going along with unnecessary niceties by extending his hand out to you with a false confidence he definitely wasn’t feeling. “What’s up, babe?” he greets overly casual.

Your head continues to face him head-on. He’s pretty sure if he could see anything under the mask you’d be wearing a deadpan stare. The two of you have known of each other for years, working alongside each other the entire time- so, why are you being introduced to Roy and why is he acting like a douche?

He watches you turn to Jason and point at yourself, then your head, then Roy and Jason seems to understand immediately. 

“Yeah, well, I figured I’d just properly introduce you guys,” he says, running a sheepish hand through his grey streak. “I don’t know,” he trails off with a sexy laugh that has even Roy fawning over him.

Roy really doesn’t stand a chance with Jason here. 

Fuck.

Roy supposes you shoot him another deadpan glare because Jason, honest to god, giggles. 

Fuck.

How is Roy supposed to compete with Jay’s rugged attractiveness when Roy’s shorter with half the game?

What happened to the awkward Jason Roy’d met all those years prior?

No, seriously, Jason had always been an awkward fuck, but for some reason, it seemed to work for him. Roy, on the other hand, was spontaneous, loud, over-the-top and seemed to drive off every promising prospect in sight, namely you.

You give Roy a timid wave that has Jason raising a brow, but Roy just responds earnestly. “Big fan of your work, Cardinal,” Roy says, leaning in across the table to get closer to you before he can stop himself. “Even bigger fan of that suit, beautiful.”

The redhead watches as your arms subconsciously move to cover your stomach and instantly backs off when Jason pushes him back into his seat.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” Jason says. “He hasn’t gotten laid since he got sober.”

He hears your tiny “oh” whispered into the quiet of the cafeteria and nearly loses it.

He wants you.

He needs you. 

“It’s true. I’m pathetic,” is what he ends up choking out.

Your head tilts at him with your hand floating to where your mouth is hidden under your vinyl confines. You look Jason’s way again before Roy hears your melodic giggle. He swears the gates of heaven have opened. He can practically hear the harps now as he watches the little shakes in your shoulders move in time with the angelic noise.

Saint Peter, Roy pleads with whatever fuckers are out there, please call my fucking name. Preferably soon… No, preferably now while you’re still amused by his obnoxious, whore-like behavior.

“Would you want to sit?” Jason motions to the chair you’re standing behind which sits right between Jason and Roy. You glance down at your tray which has a grab-n-go sandwich on it from one of the fridges right next to the food counter then back up at Roy. “It’s cool if not. I know idiot over here can be a lot.”

“Hey, I resent that.”

“I’m sure you do, buddy,” Jason says, picking lightly at his chicken before finally taking a bite. 

Jason always said the food here was good, but Roy knows it’s nothing compared to Alfred’s cooking back home.

Your giggling cuts off their old-married couple banter just like that. In fact, your laughter draws the attention of both men at the table so instantaneously that neither has time to cover up their reactions to the unfamiliar sound they’ve been lucky enough to hear twice now tonight.

Jason’s fork freezes momentarily on the way to his mouth before he quickly moves as if it’d never happened. Roy, on the other hand, remains completely stupefied by your captivating, seemingly effortless charm.

He knows deep down that there’s no way you’ll actually stay, though it doesn’t stop him from fantasizing about you ripping off your mask for him to take in what’s been forbidden for all these years. Part of him still holds out hope that, because it’s just him and Jason, you’ll actually do it, that you’ll actually give in and stay. Maybe the ripping off the mask is a bit too extreme, Roy mentally berates himself. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll lift the mask up past your nose and, at the very least, maybe you’ll just stay.

He watches with bated breath as you glance down at the seat, only to have his stomach sink seconds later when you shake your head. You pick up your sandwich and motion with your head toward the exit. 

Your continued lack of verbal response further proves there’s no way you’d ever even think about lifting up your mask to eat with Roy here. 

He is defective. 

“No worries,” Roy says as he waves you off with a jerky, then overly casual nature. 

Holy fuck, why can’t he just act normal around you?

“We’re usually in here around this hour if you ever do want to meet up,” Jason adds helpfully. Roy’ll be sure to thank him later for it. That is, right after he finishes kicking his ass for putting him through this embarrassment. “It’s usually just us down here at this hour, anyway. It’d be nice to catch up.”

You nod eagerly at both of them, leaving Jason to laugh. 

Roy watches you rub anxiously at your forearm, only to spur into action when your tray nearly goes tumbling because of it. You catch the sandwich easily and Roy catches the tray before it can even get close to the ground, but that doesn’t stop you from bending down, too.

At the sight of the tray safe in his hand, you, still bent over, look up, causing your noses to bump. 

“I can take care of you,” Roy’s grave voice is nearly a whisper in the quiet of the large room. You gasp slightly and startle backward, causing Roy to backtrack in a slightly higher-pitched voice. “They tray, I mean,” he clears his throat until his voice reaches its normal timbre. “I can take care of the tray for you.”

You seem to be momentarily frozen, much to Roy’s surprise, though it doesn’t last for long. Soon, you’re nodding distractedly, backing away from their table all the while. 

With your wrapped sandwich in one hand, you use the other to give a hasty thumbs up.

Roy waves you off with a defeated smile, bidding you a cursory goodnight.

Then you’re turning on your heel, speeding for the exit at a pace even Wally wouldn’t be able to keep up with.

He fucked up.

Neither he nor Jason can pull their eyes off you as you saunter away. 

Roy bites down harder on his chapped, bottom lip with each stomp of your heels as it jiggles your infamous cheeks in the process. Damn, what Roy wouldn’t do to get his hands on as much of your ass as he could manage. He knows there’s no way your ass would fit in the palms of his hands, but damn, if the thought alone doesn’t leave him drooling.

He doesn’t even notice the tent forming in his lap until Jason shoots him an unimpressed stare. 

“You’ve got it bad, bro,” Jason mutters into his water glass. 

𓅪𓅪𓅪

Roy does have it bad.

So bad that he makes his best friend take care of the raging boner you’d left him with.

Jason wasn’t lying when he said Roy hadn’t been laid since he’d sobered up around two years ago, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t jacking it almost every night. He’s found that the showers between the hours of four and five am are a safe haven for him to quickly get off, but tonight he needs something more.

Tonight’s different.

Roy presses Jason against the tiled wall and fucks into his tight ass all while imagining your wet pussy and fucked-out face. Roy comes embarrassingly fast, something Jason doesn’t let slide. He puts Roy to work, forcing his dick down his throat with a rough hand gripping his fiery hair until he comes all over Roy’s freckled face with a grunt.

It’s good and fine and whatever… Jason’s extremely attractive- that’s not the issue. 

The issue is that he’s not you.

Jason takes one look at Roy’s constipated face and sighs, wiping gently at the remaining beads of come on the tip of his cock with Roy’s discarded boxers.

“Just talk to her,” he says before leaving Roy to drown under the stream of his post-nut misery.

𓅪𓅪𓅪

He’s rounding the corner to his dorm room in his towel when he runs right smack into you and you’re…

“Holy shit,” Roy can’t help the airy moan that escapes at the sight of you in a loosely tied silk robe- only a silk robe.

You’re breathtaking. 

Your billowing hair, gleaming eyes and, overall, sinful features leave Roy’s mouth hanging open. Speaking of mouths, your supple, pouty lips are screaming at Roy to slip his dick between them and choke you with his length until he sees tears in the corners of your sex-doll eyes. 

Even in the fluorescent lights of the Watchtower hallways, your skin softly glows, radiating deep down into Roy’s bones. 

He needs to get his hands on you. 

Your features all meld together perfectly in a way that makes sense and he wonders how he ever could’ve imagined you to look any other way.

You tilt your head at him but don’t make to pass. It’s like you’re captivated by his captivation and, if anything, it only serves to captivate Roy further. 

You seem somewhat startled, though it’s obvious you’re trying to hide it. Roy wishes he could control his reaction; he really does, but you don’t know what you’re doing to him. Your startled face steadily shifts, leaving Roy to wonder if maybe you do. Maybe you know exactly what kind of effect you’re having on him. 

The teasing glint in your eyes seems to point to the latter and it’s making Roy weak in his already wobbly knees.

The sight of your costumed-self in the past has been enough to render him speechless. Now you’re here, standing in front of Roy’s rabid form with your robe steadily slipping from your silky shoulder and further down your bicep. 

Needless to say, the one-on-one contact with you is dizzying. It’s as if he’s drowning in the thick syrup of your honey-sweet figure without you ever having uttered a word other than his name. 

A succubus of sorts, for sure.

You’re hypnotizing and Roy knows he’s yet to pick his jaw up off the floor but can’t bring himself to stop. 

A steady breeze tickles at his mid-drift and it’s then he realizes he’s also forgotten to pick up his fucking towel in the process.

While Roy’s been completely stupefied by your ethereal features, you’ve been staring at his half-mast cock with an unreadable look. Roy inwardly groans when he realizes that Jason would probably know what it meant but erases the thought as soon as it pops into his head.

Roy looks down at his freckled, pink-tipped dick, then back up at you, then back down again and back up.

“Jeez,” he spouts, scrambling to the floor to snatch up the Justice League embroidered towels they supplied in the locker rooms. “Sorry,” his voice is thick with want as he squeezes his words out from behind a lump in his throat you’ve conveniently caused. “Didn’t see you there,” he says once he’s popped back up and secured his towel. “You alright?”

Your eyes flick down to his now completely erect cock that’s covered once again by his towel, then back up to his light green eyes. He follows the motion self-consciously, eagerly awaiting your next move. 

You’re a wild card to him. He can truly say you’re one of the few people he’s unable to read and one of the only people that he never knows what you’re going to do next. 

You’re a captivating mystery, an enigma for Roy’s puzzle-loving brain to tirelessly work at. And here you are, revealing almost everything to him while still revealing absolutely nothing. 

You nod and he watches as a magnificent blush coats your cheeks, though not the ones he’s been carnally craving.

“Sorry,” Roy sputters again as you continue past him like nothing had even happened. Like Roy hadn’t been staring at you for two minutes straight. 

You shake your head easily as if to say you don’t care, but Roy hopes you do. 

You continue past him with your usual confident stride, leaving Roy to wonder how you can possibly expect him to move at all with the trance you’ve put on him. His wobbly knees struggle to remain upright as your silent padding grows more and more distant.

Your scent lingers in the air around him like a cruel reminder of what could’ve been.

When he’s finally able, he turns around to watch your ass jiggle further and further down the hall with a heavy heart and even heavier blue balls. His heart nearly stops when you actually turn around to see if he’s still there, only to blush and duck your head back around on account of his blatant staring.

And so, the chase continues.

A/N: i’ve fully fallen in love w my characterization of roy and i’m absolutely WRECKED about it ok? i hope u feel the same and let me know if u do! ALSO ok I wrote this back in March (before I broke my pinky lol) but I did edit recently, but if it sounds a bit off from my current stuff that’s why :,P

Important: Cardinal is not usually mute, I take a lot of her hero design from Black Bat and thought it would be cool to include another aspect of Cassandra's character, hence this!

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[skywarpie]

Heyyyyy! Could I get Copia/reader with “go on. fuck yourself on my cock” from the prompt list plsssss? Doesn’t matter whether reader is AMAB or uses a strap :)

Send me a prompt

will have it as AMAB bc I don't feel like we see enough copia/male reader. Anyway, all under the cut bc well, yea.

This also got very long. Sorry bout that

He's pent up. You can tell by the way he holds his shoulders. The way he's tensed up as he rumages through his file cabinet. He gets like this sometimes. But those times often have something to do with Imperator or Nihil. Sometimes even both. That's when these episodes are the worst.

"Something on your mind, Sunshine?" You lean against your desk, arms folded over your chest. You don't fail to realize how it draws no reaction from him.

Oh, this one is really bad.

"Copia?" The word is barely past your lips before you see the facade slowly beginning to deteriorate . You try one more time.

"Copia."

The file cabinet slams shut, and you watch as the Cardinal rips his biretta from his head. He twists it in his gloved hands and then, judging by the movement, you think he tries to rip it. He gives up and flings it across the room with a muffled shout. Next to go is his fascia.

Copia rips the fabric from around his neck. "I can't breathe in this. I -- I need this to --"

"Hey. Hey." You approach him like a frightened wild animal. "It's okay." A hand softly places itself between his shoulder blades, and Copia just cracks.

You don't even have a chance to register the mood change before he's balling his hands into your vestments, pulling you as close as possible to himself. He buries his face in your chest as a broken sob wrenches from his throat.

It feels like time stands still.

Copia has had mental breakdowns before thanks to those 2 idiots, however, this is different. This is more severe, and as you watch him burrow further against you, you're suddenly worried he may suffocate himself.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." You pull him into a tight hug. Has he always been this small? This boney? There's the dreaded thought that he's missing meals again, but that's not the focus right now.

You walk him over to one of the extra chairs in your office. It takes some coaxing, but you finally get him to sit. He looks so broken and it makes your blood boil with the thought that Imperator has this much power over him.

A silence settles between the two of you as you grab a box of tissues to offer him. He takes one without hesitation as you sit in your chair across from him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." He dabs at the runny black makeup on his cheeks.

A typical response, but you're fluent in Copia speak by now, and know exactly what he needs.

"Come here." You pat your lap. In the time it takes you to blink, he's already situated on your lap, head tucked under your chin. "That's a good boy." You card your fingers through his mousy brown locks, occasionally scratching at his scalp. He'll never say it, but you know he loves it.

The two of you stay this way for some time. After a while, you go back to filing out the paperwork you were originally working on. It's just an added bonus to have him in your lap.

It's when you're halfway through the first packet that you feel it. Kisses along your jawline. They're soft and you can easily ignore them. Well, at least until a hand is stroking you through your pants.

You pull back to look at him. "Copia.."

He bats his eyes up at you. "Yes?"

One you've learned over the last few months, is that Copia is quick to recover from bad situations. Just maybe his idea of forgetting is different than your's. But it's really hard to complain when he's so good with his mouth. Like really good.

The hand cupping you squeezes, and you let out a groan.

"I think I've found a good distraction."

Copia pulls himself off your lap. For a split second, you're upset. His warmth gone, but the second you see him sink on his knees to the floor between your legs, any resentment is gone.

You instinctively widen your legs. You're also unable to think about anything other than how he must have been hand crafted from Satan himself with how well he sits at your feet.

"Is that so?" You hiss as he frees your hardened cock from your work trousers. The cold air sends a jolt from head to base, but warm lips are suddenly caressing the rapidly purpling head. "Seems a bit of a drastic change. No?" Your brow furrows as he kitten licks at the slit, collecting any pre-cum. "One minute, you're on the verge of a panic attack. The next my cock's in your mouth."

He laughs at that and your heart swells because it's an actual laugh. Something you haven't heard from him today. "I am a good multi-tasker, si?"

You should probably tell him that this is a bad idea. That he shouldn't be sucking you off, but rather working on his frayed mental state that the clergy loves to worsen.

But you don't.

Instead, you watch as he licks a stripe up the underside of your cock. He stops when he reaches the tip, gently sucking. Thats all the encouragement you need.

You grab a fistful of his hair and shove him downward, effectively choking him. His body tenses as he tries to cough, but you offer no relief. Instead, you force him to take you into his throat, growling as you watch him (and feel him) swallow around you.

You spend several moments fucking his face, but ultimately realize that's not how you want this tryst to go. You yank him off your cock and watch the spit from his lips connect to the head as he coughs.

"Undress."

You watch his eyes light up before doing as told.

When he finally stands before you naked, you are able to confirm sadly that, yes, he has been missing meals again. His ribs are practically showing through his pale skin. "Come here."

He straddles your hips, your cocks rubbing together in the process. You watch his eyes roll back in his head. Typically you'd take the time to prepare him, but you know he's still slick and lose from your coupling this morning.

All the more convenient.

"Go on. Fuck yourself on my cock." In situations like this, you've learned it's best to make him feel like he has the upper hand.

Copia leans forward, brushing his lips against yours as he lines himself up. You both groan when you slip inside him with no resistance. He rolls his hips several times as he reacquaints himself with your cock inside him. Breathy 'ahs' and 'ohs' ghosting across your lips from the close proximity.

You take the initiative to smash your mouths together. One hand is on Copia's hip, while the other is buried in his hair, deeping the kiss as you lick into his mouth, tasting him.

He squeaks and breaks the kiss when you pinch one of his pink nipples. Vaguely, the idea of clamps attached to them while you pull him around crosses your mind. But that will have to wait for another time.

He sobs when you bend your head down to suck one into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the bud, teeth nipping slightly. He arches his back into you as he fucks himself on your cock.

You give one last hard suck before moving onto the other one. Your free hand always makes sure to continue abusing the other bud.

"Beautiful." The praises fall from your lips like kisses. Your lips latch onto his pale neck, sucking until there's a purple bruise. "Let go for me, Sunshine." You take his cock in hand, giving him one, two, three strokes before he's cumming over your hand, back arched so much it almost looks painful.

"That's it."

You stroke him through it until he collapses against you.

Then you chase your own high, fucking up into him without mercy. He squeaks and groans with each thrust until your hands are yanking his hips down further on your cock, making sure he catches every drop. His own cock twitches again before his second orgasm hits.

When it's all said and done with, Copia sits in your lap, cock still inside him until you soften and slip free. His thighs are shaking and your large hands run soothingly across the plush skin in an attempt to relax him.

The front of your vestments are coated in cum, but honestly you could care less. Copia seems more relaxed now and thats all that matters.

You wrap your arms around him, placing a kiss on the crown or his head. "Such a good boy for me."

[ghostchems]

gloves - cardinal terzo x female!reader

you are the resident glove maker at the abbey and cardinal terzo comes to you with a curious request.

a/n: glove maker is a real job. i said so. i mean, at least at at the abbey. so there is violence and blood here. terzo is not very nice, ya know. we got some smut too!!! so mdni! 18+! this is about 2.7k words. ao3 link :) it has been a long time since i've been able to post something and i am feelin proud of this!

“This won’t do, Sorella.” Terzo scowls and throws the glove at you, narrowly missing your face as you duck. “They are far too loose!” He throws the other glove, this time hitting his target (your face) with a soft “pfft”. You snatch the gloves into your hand, balling it up into a first. He has been so difficult about these damn gloves, so particular even though most of his requests would make his day to day work uncomfortable. 

“If I make them any tighter you won’t be able to bend your fingers, Cardinal.” You slap the gloves onto your workspace and flop on your stool, hands running through your hair. “Is that what you want, Cardinal? To not be able to move your fingers when we both know that is something you do frequently?” The way you’re speaking to him is bound to get you in trouble but the man is being completely unreasonable. He growls and moves so quickly into your space, his hand slamming right in front of you.

“Do you want to be punished, Sorella? Or do you want to feel my fingers for yourself?” He rasps leaning closer to you as he bares his teeth. You’ve never been this close to him before and you take in his appearance. His usual neat, raven hair is spilling into his face and the black paint around his eyes is somewhat smudged from his sweaty frustration. Still, you can’t help but look at his pillowy lips and then into his mismatched gaze — it’s always hard to resist the Third.

“I would like neither, thank you.” You aren’t about to give him what he wants after disrespecting you, despite heat spreading underneath your skin. “What I would like is for you to be realistic about these gloves. I am really doing my best.” You sigh and pick up the gloves, looking over them in your hands. He had requested golden stitching to accent black leather gloves and you are pleased with the work you’ve done so far, despite Terzo’s protests.

He growls deep in his chest and plants his hand on your shoulder as he slinks behind you. A chill runs down your spine as his hand grips your other shoulder, feeling his hot breath on the top of your head. Terzo digs his nails into your skin through the fabric of the habit, causing you to give a small squeak. You try to wriggle out of his grasp but he’s not letting you go, only pressing his fingers even harder into you. He lowers his mouth right to your ear, taking a moment to take in your scent before giving a gravelly hum.

“You will create exactly what I am asking, Sorella.” Terzo hisses, his lips grazing your ear. “If you do not do what I ask, I will have no choice but to punish you, hmm? This has taken far too long already.” His mouth travels down your ear to where it meets your neck. “I feel you might be a glutton for punishment, Sorella. Do you desire being sliced into for the upcoming harvest ritual, hmm? You desire to be beneath my blade?” You suck in a sharp breath, your hands clutching onto the dismissed gloves. 

Even though he could seem aloof about his clerical duties, Terzo is extremely talented with ritualistic carvings of the flesh and always flaunted it. He is also able to convince Papa Emeritus the Second on who exactly should be given the “honor” of laying upon the altar beneath him, usually having either his most devoted followers or those that have wronged him and you can guess what he does to the latter. Even after a strong “talking to” from Sister Imperator each time, he gets away with it.

“I’ll make the gloves to your specifications, Cardinal.” You say in a hushed voice. His grip on your shoulders loosen and he drifts one hand to lightly caress your neck, his sharp nails grazing the sensitive skin. “I do not desire to be beneath your blade.” Your voice is even quieter this time, giving a sharp gasp as his nail scratches against your neck. His one finger pushes your cheek and forces you to turn your head to face him. 

“Va bene.” His lips curl into a cruel smile. “I look forward to what you have for me next time, bella.” Terzo is back to his charming self, one hand leafing through his perfect black hair. He gives you a wink that makes your skin crawl and leaves you to your work.

***

You stare down at the new gloves you made for the Cardinal. They are not what he asked for but divine inspiration had taken you over. They are not stitched with gold but they are as tight as he had asked for, almost perfectly fitting your own hands. Instead of the stitching, shiny gold nails had been affixed to the tips of the fingers. Terzo had given you wounds from his nails the last time you saw him and you thought of them each time you went to work on his gloves. That thought worked into your brain and took on a life of its own.

And now, here they are. Gloves that Terzo did not ask for that are seemingly teasing you. You run your finger along one golden nail, resting at the top and you press down, pricking yourself from the sharpness of it. You bring the finger to your face and watch the blood drop form, then you quickly lick it off. So many scenarios run through your mind but they all end the same way: on the altar beneath Terzo while he glares down at you, a mischievous sparkle in his green eye.

He will be arriving soon. Maybe you could delay the inevitable some way. You could tell him that now is a bad time, that you’ve fallen ill… perhaps you could even “disappear” for a few weeks before resurfacing with the requested gloves. But your heart is set on the golden nails. They are so him, even if it’s not exactly what he wanted. You take a seat behind your desk, your eyes unable to break away from the gloves, the tips of them twinkling in the dim light. 

You must have lost track of time because suddenly the door to your office is creaking open and he is there. Your eyes snap up to him, a blank expression on your face. Terzo’s cassock is unbuttoned enough that you can see the top of one of his pecs, speckled with dark chest hair. You’re too nervous to notice. His eyes dart to the gloves in front of you and he stalks closer, flickering his attention from you to the gloves and back.

“They aren’t what you asked for, Cardinal, but they are you.” You surprise yourself by how strong your voice sounds. Terzo licks his lips and reaches for one of the gloves, tenderly picking it up and running his fingers over the smooth texture. He examines the glove, his expression confused but curious, his eyes glossing over the sparkling, gold nails. He looks to you again as he knits his brows together.

“Let me, Cardinal.” You stand slowly and walk over to him, tender hands taking the glove from him and starting to slip it on. There is something intimate about your fingers running over his strong hands as you slip the glove on, making sure to pull it as tight as possible. You zip them up, the zipper being located on the back of the hand next to his thumb to ensure maximum tightness. A soft sigh escapes his lips, seemingly due to the glove fitting incredibly tight, too tight for him to form a fist. 

“This will do, Sorella.” He purrs, examining the sharp gold nails. Dark eyes meet yours as he looms closer to you. “But, ah, this is not what I asked for, as you said.” Terzo leans forward and takes a gloved finger to rest underneath your chin. “Do you enjoy disobeying me?” A breath catches in your throat as he tips your head up to look at him. 

“I set out to give you what you requested but inspiration took over, Cardinal. I stand by them.” You suck in a breath, his hand moving from your chin to your cheek and he presses a nail to the skin. “Careful, they’re sharp.” He nicks you and you give a yelp, causing a small cut on your cheek. A low growl rumbles up from Terzo’s chest, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he leans in and kisses the bleeding cut on your cheek. The ache that had been slowly building between your thighs is almost unbearable now, your breath hitching and your face growing hot beneath his lips.

“They are, as you say, me. I’ll leave you, if you would like. Or… I could stay and give you a reward and perhaps a punishment for the work you’ve done.” He purrs against your cheek then pulls away enough that he can look into your eyes, his hot breath against your flushed face. “The choice is yours, Sorella.” 

He isn’t giving you much of a choice, is he? You’re aware of his reputation among the clergy and there’s a reason why despite being a cardinal he has a horde of siblings coming and going from his quarters, following him around the abbey and indulging him in whatever he wants. You would be lying if you said you haven’t thought about his face between your legs or his cock between your tits before. Terzo has this way about him that brings something fresh, dangerous and sexy to the Abbey, which is why people are so drawn to him, yourself included, even after all the trouble he’s given you about these damn gloves. 

You don’t respond, instead you reach for his already unbuttoned cassock and tug him into you, crushing your lips against his. Terzo falters, caught off guard for a moment until he regains his composure, his gloved hand feathering into your hair and scraping against your scalp. Your tongue tangled with his and you can’t help but moan at the taste of him, a spicy cinnamon with a hint of sweetness. He uses his free hand to cup your ass and force you to move backwards giving a small yelp at his sudden strength. You stumble backwards as he takes control of the situation, still clutching your hair tightly in his gloved hand. 

Terzo bites at your lower lip, dragging his sharp teeth against it and you whimper against him, your hands digging into the fabric of his cassock, pulling it apart even more. He practically tosses you onto the small couch in your office and climbs on top of you. You gasp, your eyes wide and your lips parted as you stare up into his devilish eyes. Terzo presses his hips firmly against yours and starts to slowly circle his hips, feeling him rut against you through your habit. 

“Fuck, Terzo.” You whine as you struggle in his grasp. His chest rumbles with a low growl, letting go of your hands and beginning to claw at your habit with his gloved hand tearing through the fabric with ease. Terzo dips his head down, his tongue laving over where your neck and shoulder meet with a soft groan. You have wriggled your habit off of you and you’re now working diligently on the rest of his cassock, shoving it off his shoulders. He sits up, his hips keeping you pinned beneath him as he rips your habit completely off. Your eyes are wide, cheeks flushed while he hovers above you, his eyes roaming your naked body hungrily.

Terzo grabs you by the wrists and pins them above your head with his ungloved hand. The feeling of being in danger rings out in your brain, the look on his face different than you’ve ever seen it before. He presses the gold nails to your stomach, his wild eyes focused on your face as he rakes them down to your abdomen. Tears spill from your eyes and you cry out in pain, feeling blood seep from the wounds. He moans deep in his throat and lets go of your wrists only to reach for your panties and frantically tears them off of you. You’ve hardly come down from the pain you’re feeling when he pushes into you with one quick thrust.

You aren’t able to adjust to his size before he starts fucking you, his arms curling around your body to hold you close to his chest, panting into your ear. You grip onto the back of his shoulders, your own nails digging into the skin as you sob, the pain and pleasure mixing in a way that feels delicious. His hips snap into you at a brutal pace and you feel your muscles tighten, the building pleasure causing heat to spread through your body. He growls into your ear, his mouth dipping just where your earlobe and neck meet to bite and suck at the flesh.

In an instant, he sits up and pulls you with him, situating you on his thighs and resting both hands on your waist. His hips jerk, his cock massaging your inner walls as he uses your hips to slam you down onto him with every thrust. You’re able to finally get a look at him – his hair a mess, falling into his face and his cheeks flushed. Terzo’s eyes are blown wide with lust, his chest rising and falling with breathy moans. Speaking of chest, his is smeared with your blood that you’ve forgotten about by now but the very sight of it causes you walls to flutter around him.

“Oh, Sathanas.” He rasped, his grip on you tightening as he floods you with his cum. Terzo’s head drops to your shoulder, his body slumping against you. You are panting heavily, your heart racing. He slips his hand between the two of you, his lips finding your shoulder as he presses against your swollen clit. Your back arches from the contact, a deep moan rolling from your lips. He works his thumbs in quick circles on your bud, his teeth biting at your shoulder with a low growl. Your body tenses, holding onto him so tightly as you whimper, your head feeling light and your eyes fluttering open and shut. 

Your vision blurs and a shockwave grips your body, his name screaming from your lips as you reach your climax. You slump against him, your skin glistening with sweat and your body quivering while you come down. He carefully lifts you off of his cock, some of his speed spilling down the inside of your thighs. You lean against the back of the couch, your eyes glassy as you gaze back at him, a light smirk playing on his lips.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, sister?” He moves forward, a hand grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you into a hungry kiss. You let him take you, his tongue probing every inch of your mouth. Terzo pulls away about an inch, only to give you a playful nip to your nose and then stands. You slump against the couch, feeling like a complete and total mess, your body still tingly from the sensation and there is a dull burning pain on your abdomen from his scratches.

He saunters over to your desk and reaches for the other gloves, tucking it into his pocket. You are still catching your breath, your hair tousled and your busy flushed read. Terzo’s eyes studying you, still smirking because he likes what he sees. 

“Grazie, sorella. I will be sure to come to you if, eh, they ever need repairing… or if you want to play again.” He waggles his fingers at you, the golden nails that are now stained with your blood shining in the dim light. You lay down on the couch and give him a lazy wave. Terzo gives a low chuckle, amused by your response and leaves your office, his chest still covered in your blood and his cassock left on the floor.

You exhale slowly, finally able to get your bearings now that he is gone.

The punishment really wasn’t that bad.  

[ihave3verything]

Honestly, going with many other same headcannons for other interests I’ve had: I think Cardinal Copia is pretty damn scrawny, and that’s because he was always overworked, missed meals because of it, and wanted to keep at it so he could be the best and be acknowledged as such. He loved his work, mathematical genius and Latin pro, and that all just worked in his favor to go for being the best.

But that changes for the best soon, and leads into him being happy, loved (by himself especially), and more filled out.

When he is chosen as the frontman for Ghost and now in closer range to be looked over/after by Sister Imperator (in a secret motherly way), his work for the project gives him more open time to breathe and even eat (as Imperator set it up to be, realizing he was so under weight looking and missing out on full course meals). But because he was so used to not taking the best care of himself, he continued to eat little and sleeping little. Thus Imperator couldn’t stop from more openly being caring for him, and encouraged Copia to eat — inviting him to sit next to her during meals so she could ‘kindly as a sort of older woman/boss’ push more food his way with comments like “you need your energy to do good work for the clergy and our project. Eat up and rest, sin with gluttony and a bit of sloth.” But Copia only ever thought it like a kind thing older women did for their those younger than them.

So Copia began to eat more, slept more, was getting that positive reinforcement from not just her, but other clergy members as he trained for being the frontman (feeding his ego too that hes always had with wanting to be the best). By the time he goes on his first tour, he’s gained more weight, because he’s also happier. And the energy & continued positive reinforcement from the fans after each ritual just made him happier and happier — showing it by indulging in caring for himself, trying new things like foods and going out to exercise (stuff like Yoga) to keep limber as he runs and dances across the stage.

By the time the first tour is over, hes fat and happy and all the more driven to be the best and better than the other papas. He’s proven himself and become more confident too. By the time hes papa, he’s got so much to squeeze, and so much love from everyone around him, he has a wonderful reputation that fits perfectly with the other papas.

He’s like a legendary painting of the Goddess Venus everyone knows and loves.

[stillchuunya]

Rite Here Rite Now thoughts and reactions (spoilers below)

The performance:

-> Twenties live?? The dancers? loved them! I waited to hear Twenties Live like crazy! I do wish we could hear Swiss louder with the whispers...

-> I need that acoustic rendition of If You hHave Ghosts... the ghoulettes were amazing

-> I refuse to believe that Tutti Frutti nailed that one jump towards the end of the performance, what the heck?!

-> The searchlights in the Watcher in the Sky!

-> the use of lights to accentuate Satan's names! YES! It felt so right, it felt so cool, I loved that! Satanic imagery whenever his name was mentioned? YESSS They play fewer and fewer songs from the early albums so I wish they make some new songs that just go LU-CI-FEEER

-> The ghouls looked so good! But there was so little of Swiss :( I wanted to see him go crazy and move those hips. I caught a glimpse of him once or twice but I believe they never focused on him for long enough to let him shine. It's a pity because I love watching him!

-> I thought there would be a long scene of us getting ciriced but it was just a few moments? still cool, just a bit short

-> People are saying that the skeletons were actually people with body paint, and I fully believed that it was a body suit :0 I noticed their breasts looked good but??? how did I miss this (I do have an eyesight problem but I thought it wasn't that bad haha)

The rest:

-> the sass between Nihil and Seestor was so good? Loved seeing their interactions

-> They EMBRACED the 'Scooby Doom', the 'Scooby Doo Chase Music' allegations, the MOAC animation was surreal as heck. Tobias saw our jokes and said 'hold my communion wine and watch this'

-> We got an exclusive footage of a Papa Sock, do not confuse with the DeFroque Soq. We saw the Obscene Annointed Foot.

-> Papa literally dissociates backstage :')

-> The twins? Seestor having twins?? There were two kiddos frollicking on a field loool and I always thought that Copia felt like he had a sibling or a twin but I thought it was just a crack theory!

-> I want Ashley's job

-> The twins played by Toblerone's kids are dead apparently and I doubt it will ever be explained xD

-> There was only one fart joke and I anticipated like 3 at least

->I remember seeing this meme

and let me tell you it's 100% true he does not, it's just for comedic effect and I love it, people got high fives from him and I was so jealous

-> the balloon part was so confusing and funny and the way he was actually faceplanted on the floor the whole time broke me

-> I made a joke about how maybe they'll get rid of Seestor due to all the issues they had with her actresses but there she is, transparent and glowing. they can't explain further changes with plastic surgery anymore lol

-> Copia in a position of actual power? HUH

-> He has his Cardinal makeup back!! We went to the movie wearing this exact pattern and we were so happy to see it on screen <3 And his whole new outfit is lit, I am forever in love with his Cardinal Era clothes so this one was a Treat

-> Copia was babied so much in this movie and it was just what I needed for my soul, do not @ me

-> The pentagram below Nihil and Seestor gives me hope for a certain theory the fandom likes a lot?? why was it there

-> New song good!!!

-> also, Nihil's speech seems to be a homage to all the dead performers we know and love, especially the ones Tobias looks up to and gets inspiration from and I could feel his sadness in that speech, ok. I think he wishes to be able to entertain people after his own death just like them, he wants people to play Ghost in 50 years when he's most likely dead and feel their taints tickled. I am tearing up. Life is scary and sad but I have ghosts, right?

Overall it was a very sweet and gentle way to ease the fandom into the next stage and a new Papa, which we have been opposing vehemently for the past year or so. Tobias is a softie and knows his fandom better than I expected, tbh.

[mllekurtz]

*grabby hands* more bookbinder AU please

Hey! Also replying to @wanderingbasilisk and @augentrust asked about this.

Not a lot of progress has been made on the shadowgast bookbinder au since I last talked about it here. Have a long-ish snippet.

The stranger takes a step further, looking around. Whether he’s impressed by what he sees or the opposite, it doesn’t show: his face is a blank, polite mask. Once the door is closed behind him, he carefully sidesteps a workbench on his way to the counter. Caleb’s workshop is not meant for customers, and it shows. “Forgive the intrusion”, he says, without the faintest trace of apology in his tone. “My name is Essek Thelyss, and I am in need of an evaluation. Your establishment and skills were highly recommended to me.”

Caleb doesn’t move a single muscle. He’s never met anyone named Essek, but he recognizes the name Thelyss. What is the equivalent of a crown prince doing in his workshop? “By whom?” Now that Thelyss is significantly closer, Caleb can make out the details of his unblemished, ageless face: he registers high cheekbones and pale, piercing eyes, and that distinctive lack of rigidity in his perfect posture that denotes high breeding. Caleb’s assumption that he's dealing with nobility is confirmed. Thelyss arches a fine eyebrow at Caleb’s question. “Friends,” he says simply, with an emphasis that preempts any attempt to dig deeper. “They praised not only your expertise, but your discretion. I am in need of the former as well as the latter.” If Caleb knew what’s good for him, he would send the Kryn out, then pack all the belongings he can carry on his person, and leave. But curiosity has always been his cardinal sin; even now that he concerns himself with vessels of knowledge instead of the knowledge itself, there’s something in him primed to turn towards a mystery as helplessly and naturally as a sunflower follows the sun. He doesn’t miss the double speak, either: this man talks in a language Caleb hasn’t heard in a decade. It’s a hook that catches somewhere deep and primal in his gut, and pulls. His back straightens a little. “Your friends should have told you I only take appointments.” “My need for discretion is high,” Thelyss explains. He has the kind of voice that skims and sidesteps, that draws circles around the words instead of tackling them head on. “I thought it would be better not to announce myself.” He needed to catch Caleb unprepared, is what Caleb hears. For whose sake, though? Are these precautions for himself or a way to test Caleb? “Is your matter a personal one?” he asks. Thelyss smiles flatly. “Have we agreed to talk business, then?” On the imaginary chessboard between them, one of Caleb’s pawn is taken. Impulsively, Caleb decides to allow it. Before he can question the wisdom of this decision, he starts untying his apron. “We can talk. We'll see about business.” Essek keeps smiling. His mouth seems made especially for that kind of soft, inoffensive smile that only makes one think of the fangs it’s hiding. Quickly, Caleb looks back up into his eyes, which are only marginally less dangerous.