#corrupted copia

[cornmagnate]

So long to the person you begged me to be

He's down, he's dead

He's gone, oh he's lost

He's flown, he's fled

Now take a good long look at what you've done to me

[ghoulangerlee]

that last reblog reminded me of the first fanfic i ever wrote (and didn't publish) for this fandom. it was a copiiia fic 😂 it still exists in my docs because i was so so so incredibly interested in the transition of power from Terzo to Cardinal Copia and how that was ripped away from Terzo and thrust upon Copia. LITERALLY you share not was pulled from that and I'd shifted it from a copiiia fic to a copia/ghouls fic because I realized I didn't want to deal with angry anons all damn day because people in this fandom can't just let people ship and write what they want

[ryuzatodraws-archive]

Well that man is Me

[copiousloverofcopia]

THIS. IS. IT.

The Final Chapter of The Red Dress!

Thank you so much to everyone who stuck around until the end. I appreciate you all so much and I hope you like it.

Commissions are still open if anyone is interested, please see my pinned post for carrd info!

The Red Dress

Celeste is a stagehand at a local arena when her night goes south after a Ghost concert leaving her cornered by ghouls. Her life changes forever when she is told that she is to play a crucial role in the destiny of Papa Emeritus IV, and that the gimmick is real.

Chapter 9: THE END

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven't started yet, start from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

“Where is she?” Copia commanded as he and Celeste reached the bottom of the main stairs. He felt in his core that the arrival of their visitor was a sign, though he knew not of what. Celeste squeezed his hand tightly, still nervous in the presence of them. The pack of ghouls, unnerving even now as they grunted and growled amongst themselves before her. It was only a moment before one of them spoke, but for Celeste it felt a lifetime. 

“We brought her to the chapel Papa. she awaits you both.” the ghoul called Aether replied. Copia’s eyebrow perked, Celeste taking note. It was as if something had occurred to him, like a moment of deja vu swept across his face. A fleeting thought passing, leaving Celeste in the dark. 

“What?” she asked, needing to know what was going on in his head. What did he realize that she hadn’t? Copia caressed her face and gave her a deep kiss. The intensity of his mouth on hers—reminding her of how much she belonged to him. That nothing would ever harm her as long as he lived.

“Just seems peculiar to me that your mother came here at all…and alone.” he said, mulling over the implications. Celeste wasn't surprised she wanted to see her. Lucy thrived on being able to control her daughter and so of course she’d take any opportunity presented to her. What did surprise Celeste, was that she was able to be found. 

She had, in fact,  packed up that day and left everything behind. Wondering at first who was the first to come looking for her at the old apartment. Shocked when they were met with the putrid corpse of her ex decomposing on the floor—and Celeste nowhere to be found. Maybe it had been Lucy? Celeste wondered now how she found her with no letter or any indication as to where she’d gone.

They all continued on down the hall, Celeste gripped tighter to Copia. The hallway in the evening had always left her feeling petrified. It felt as if the cold, hollow eyes of paintings seemed to follow her then. Even now, as they approached the archway into the chapel, this place she now called home, still managed to make her hair stand on end. The unease inside her, steadily growing as she caught sight of her mother. 

Lucy stood up from one of the front pews as soon as she heard them approach. The smile on her face, making Celeste immediately suspicious. She rushed towards her daughter and Copia, arms held out wide, when yet another set of ghouls materialized in front of her. Blades drawn and teeth bared. She immediately stopped, her blood running cold as the ghouls hissed and snarled at her.

“I—I mean no harm.” Lucy assured them, trembling in their presence. Copia wanted to laugh, knowing all it would take was a snap of his fingers and the ghouls would devour her whole before his hand rested. He saw her as no threat—though Celeste still felt the hum of something brewing. She knew her mother’s manipulative nature and that, while she may say she means no harm, she was still very much up to something. 

“What is it you’ve come here for?” Copia demanded, his demeanor calm and collected. Waving his ghouls to stand down. Lucy was shaken, the color returning to her fingers as she loosened her grip on the back of the pew. Still unable to fully relax, even with the ghouls now retreated. She slowly continued towards her daughter and Copia, taken back by them as she finally was able to process what she’d seen. Keeping her eyes fixed on them, even as she saw flashes of the ghouls scouring the walls in her peripheral vision. 

Copia was something to behold, his demeanor giving Lucy the impression she should be bowing before him. Standing there in his majestic robes of bronze and deep sapphire. His miter, tall and shimmering in the light from the chapel's candles. His face paint, working to instill a sense of fear and respect. This was the man who fathered her daughter’s child, the man who was destined for her—the Antichrist himself. Lucy could hardly bear the intensity of his presence and as she turned her gaze to her daughter her breath was stolen from her lungs. 

She couldn’t help but awe at her. Celeste was every bit the Queen she was born to be. Seeing the two of them together was overwhelming. Celeste’s pronounced belly under her lavish gown—the culmination of years of planning that had finally taken place. A plot now, Lucy was abject to have taken part in. 

“I’ve come to see my daughter.” she said, her eyes falling back to Celeste’s stomach. Lucy sighed heavily as she stared at it. Taking a moment before making eye contact with her daughter once again. “Oh Cece, the baby is almost here isn’t he?” she asked, the hint of sorrow and bitterness held in her voice. 

“Ye—what is it you want mother? As far as I am concerned you have no business here with my husband and I.” Celeste snapped, trying her best to show dominance. Tight mouthed and standing tall beside Copia. It was nothing but a  thin veil, hiding her hesitation and fear of her own mother. A fear Lucy could always spot, like a shark senses blood in water. 

“Husband?” Lucy asked, acting as if any of this was a surprise to her. She knew deep down the truth. A truth that she now grappled with telling Celeste. Wondering if her confession, her contrition would make any difference to their fate. 

“We were wed once we arrived here… but beside the point mother you don’t belong here. I suggest you return home.” Celeste replied with her whole chest. Prideful in standing up to her mother. Lucy, of course, appeared shocked and hurt before nodding in acceptance.

“...I will take my leave then. Though there really isn’t any way for me to get to the train station this late at night—-and lord knows when I would be able to get a hold of the airline to book a flight. Might I impose upon you to stay just until morning.” she begged. Copia could feel Celeste’s grip tightening up once again on his hand. He was sure that his hand would suffer permanent nerve damage from the intensity of her clutch. It was obvious to him she was nervous, but something told Copia that Lucy should stay.

“Amore…what do you say? One night won’t hurt things will it?” His words, purred into Celeste’s ear. She pulled away, eyes staring widely at him. It was astonishing to her that the literal Antichrist would provide her more love and comfort, despite all that had transpired between them, than the woman who birthed her. It was however true and here they were, Celeste leaning into Copia for safety as she cowered inside at her mother’s presence. 

“I guess.” she conceded, watching Lucy’s face fill in delight. It made her sick to her stomach. The same woman who allowed Morty to hurt her, in all ways possible, now freely staying in what was supposed to be her sanctuary.   

“Thank you Cece, thank you…uh…” Lucy began, realizing that she didn’t actually know the man’s name—only what he was.

“Ah yes, please allow me to introduce myself, I am Papa Copia Emeritus the Fourth.” Copia testified straightening the lay of his robes across his chasuble. 

“Well then, let's get you settled.” Celeste began, turning to face the ghouls. “Aether, would you please escort my mother to a guest room in the west wing? She can stay there for the night.”

“With pleasure.” The ghoul replied, heeding her command as he and another ghoul grabbed the bags Lucy had left in the pews. Turning his head and motioning for her to follow him. Lucy caught on quickly to his meaning and, despite her fear, followed along behind him. As her mother disappeared from the chapel, Celeste felt her head begin to ache. A rushing feeling sent through her, leaving her lightheaded and fatigued as she brought herself to sit down in one of the back pews. 

“Amore, are you alright? Is it?” Copia asked worriedly, dropping to his knees at her side. Hand held gently on her belly.  

“I’m alright, just tired today.” she assured him with a soft smile. “I just need a minute.” 

“Take your time cara…seems I have been too rough with you this evening. I suppose it’s too close now for me to be…so indelicate with you.” he mused. 

It was clear from the cloud cover and the roar of the thunder outside, that a storm had begun. The sun, now almost completely eclipsed by the moon. The sky hued with the color of blood. The lighting began to crash across the Heavens, raging with fury of what was to come. The unsettling silence at dinner between Copia, her mother, and Celeste, leaving her feeling even worse.

“I will be fine…but I am telling you Copia, there is something else going on. That woman has never wanted anything to do with me my whole life, except to control me. If she is here, it's for a reason.” 

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Copia noticed it too. Celeste now seemed weaker and more tired than ever. He wondered if things were closer than he realized. “Amore, why don’t you go rest. The signora and I can manage.” Copia insisted. Celeste would have protested, but she felt since her mother’s appearance, her energy level had dwindled. Chipped away little by little, slowly leaving her with each passing moment.

“Maybe you're right. I shall take my leave. Mother.” Celeste nodded at Lucy, getting up slowly from the table in the Papal wing of the Abbey and headed off to her and Copia’s chambers. She walked slowly, cradling her heavy belly in her arms. The weight of everything, including her child, was becoming harder to bear. She needed the rest more now than ever as the time drew nearer to the child’s birth and to the beginning of war between Heaven and Hell.

Like a sparkling crackle of fire, the sky lit up once more with lighting. The light, bathing Celeste in a rainbow of color as it shined through the stained glass. When she made it back to their suite, she collapsed on the bed. Feeling completely drained and unable to move. 

Back in the dining hall, Copia stared ominously at Lucy as he took a sip from his glass of wine. Lucy fiddled with her napkin in her lap. Adjusting in her seat as if her pants were filled with sand. It was obvious she was nervous and that her being there was suspicious. It would be hard to convince Copia otherwise. 

“You know…your daughter is smarter than you think.” Copia said as he set his glass back onto the table. Resting his chin on the backs of his hands as he continued his glare at her. 

“I beg your pardon.” Lucy said, feigning ignorance to his words. She knew what he meant but she had to keep up her side of things and pretend.

“I think your part in all of this would be much better heard from your mouth than if I tell her, don’t you think?”

“I am not sure what—”

“Puoi smettere ora Lucy, siamo solo noi due. So per cosa sei venuto qui.” Copia growled watching the fake smile slip away from Lucy’s face.

“Ah so you know?” she asked him. Copia chuckled a bit, returning to his glass of wine as he rose up from the table and approached her. Lucy sat straight up in the chair, frozen as Copia approached her. When he finally reached her, he bent down to whisper in her ear. 

It was hours later when Celeste awoke. Her head once again pounding and a pain searing from her belly overcoming her. It was far worse than she had ever felt in her entire life as it traveled from her back towards her belly. Tearing through her as she glanced over at the clock, 3:33 in the morning, she thought to herself. Celeste was frightened, teeth clenched in pain—it was time.  

“I do and I know why you’ve come here. Make no mistake…they will fail.”

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When she went to roll over, she found only Copia’s spot empty beside her. She did her best to sit up, holding still a moment as her vision blurred. Where could he possibly be right now, she asked herself. When she went to stand up, a rush of fluid came pouring out from inside her. 

“Oh fuck.” she cried aloud, wincing in pain but before the words had even fully left her lips, she could hear them. Voices of men, growing closer and closer, coming from outside in the hall. Her blood ran cold. Every nerve firing, urging her to run as fast as she could. 

She knew she wasn’t going to get far, not like this. She struggled to pull herself over to the large armoire at the other side of the room. Tucking herself beneath the hanging clothes to hide. Biting into her lip to keep from screaming out in pain. 

It took everything in her to hold still, shaking uncontrollably as the pains returned. The voices, now clearly inside the room as the tears began silently streaming down her face. She begged in that moment, to whatever god would listen, to keep her baby safe. That Copia would rescue her—but no one came.  

“She has to be on the grounds somewhere.” said one of them, Celeste terrified as she watched from the cracked doors of the armoire. She could only make out the shadows as they passed in front of it, a total of five men had entered her room. All of them shrouded in black, bearing rosaries at their waist. The crucifixes, making a quiet tapping sound as they moved about the room. 

The storm continued raging outside as Celeste hid from the holy crusaders rummaging through her room. Desperately in search of her before it was too late. “We will find her, Lucy said she was here.” said one of the other men. Immediately Celeste’s eyes widened, they were there because of her mother. She had felt it and if it wasn’t already apparent, now she was certain the men were there to harm her. 

“Cardinal Mariano…” one of the bishops said, motioning for the Cardinal to look down. When he did, he noticed the trail of water. It started at the side of the bed and continued until just outside the armoire. The light from the storm outside, illuminating the small puddles across the wood floor. They had discovered where she was hiding—just in time the Cardinal thought. 

The men got silent, Celeste beginning to only hear the sound of her heart pounding as the door came flying open. Revealing her to the men. “There you are whore.” a bishop proclaimed, yanking Celeste out onto the floor. The group of men, working quickly to surround her. 

Celeste cried out in pain as she hit the ground. Another contraction overtaking her, with the next not long behind it. She struggled hard against them. Spitting blood into one of their faces from the bite in her lip, but there were just too many. 

Before she knew it, they had gagged her. The fabric, burning at the edges of her mouth as she fought to scream. The men carried her over to the bed, holding down her limbs as the Cardinal climbed on top of her. “Give them to me now. We haven’t much time!” he commanded as one of the other men pulled a black leather parcel from within his jacket. 

The Cardinal rolled it out across the bed beside her. Celeste, still fighting to break away from them as she caught sight of its contents. It was a glint from the blades, made from celestial stone, that gave them away. Seven of them, forged in the time of Christ in preparation for this very moment. The Seven Sacred Daggers of Megiddo, ready to extinguish Satan’s progeny on Earth. 

Celeste cried, warm tears drenching her hair as she thrashed about below the Cardinal. His thighs, pressing tighter along her sides in an attempt to keep her still. They needed to hit things just right for the daggers to do their job. The men began to chant, flicking holy water over Celeste’s body—stinging as the drops hit her flesh. 

She managed to dislodge the gag, a blood-curdling screaming surging from within her and filling the room. “No! Please don’t hurt my baby! Copia! Copia!”

“Will you shut her up!” the Cardinal hissed, another of the men quickly attempting to re-gag her. Celeste bit hard to his hand, the blood filling her mouth as he managed to muffle her screams. The daggers began to glow beside her—still no Copia, or anyone, to be found. Celeste feared that they may already be dead and that it too would be her fate. 

The Cardinal picked up one of the daggers, whispering prayers under his breath before kissing the hilt. He held the dagger high above Celeste’s belly, both hands gripped hard to steady it. “Hac sacra pugione summa mali extinguimus. Ut animam a mortali cortice solvamus…” he chanted and suddenly Celeste felt as if she were below water. 

The sound drowned out within the room and a sudden rush of energy, bursting through her. She turned her head, just as the dagger began to descend upon her, and saw Copia along with her mother and a pack of ghouls rushing into the room. 

“Enough!” Copia commanded, the power exploding from inside him in a fiery heat as he willed the Cardinal across the room alongside his men. Their bodies bashing against the stone walls with full force. All of them clutching their sides as they began to bleed from within. 

“Are you alright?” Copia asked, rushing to Celeste’s side. The daggers, losing the shine once emanating from them. All Celeste could do was nod, holding tight to her dark prince when another contraction hit. Copia’s eyes widened in realization. 

“The baby is coming.” Celeste cried. Copia kissed the top of her head, his attention however stolen by the sound of the Cardinal coughing from across the room. The ghouls had surrounded them, waiting for the indication to strike, when Copia approached them. Celeste’s mother, coming to her side in his stead. 

“We (cough, cough) have seen your face.” The Cardinal stuttered, blood running down the side of his mouth as his whole body shook in fear. Copia stood over him, menacing and powerful. “...carved in stone and painted in ancient lands. (Cough, cough) It is you the devourer of worlds, darkness incarnate, bringer of the end of days.”

“Yes…Cardinal Mariano, it is. I am the man born of humanity and sired by the old one. It is my dynasty that shall rule for the next millennia as I watch your god’s paradise burn to the ground.” Copia laughed, watching as horror filled the Cardinal’s eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I am about to become a father.”

“No! No! No!” the Cardinal cried. Copia snapped his fingers and in an instant, the ghouls attacked the men—eating them alive. The sounds of tearing flesh and screaming thick in the room. Sounds that Celeste now remembered from their visions, visions that now she knew were prophetic.  

When the sounds faded, and only the noise of their thumping lifeless and hollowed out husks hit the floor were left, Copia returned to Celeste. He lifted her up off the bed, the room now filled with a mass of siblings and ghouls around them. Celeste tried to stand struggling with her balance while in immense pain. She realized she was now dressed in the ominous red dress. The scent of blood surrounding her as the gown seemed to be seeping with it. Celeste grabbed hold of one of the daggers, shaking and scared as she stared down at it. 

This was the beginning of the end of the world and in that moment Celeste was conflicted, her mind enveloped in anguish. Wondering if she should have been killed by the holy men. If her desire and love for Copia, and the child she carried, was worth the world. Then he spoke to her.

“Celeste. Amore, we should leave this room. I will not have you give birth to our son in this place if I can help it.” Copia declared, trying to get her to follow him out. Celeste stopped halfway out of the room, her mind overwhelmed and spinning. Copia could see the conflict rising inside her and knew it was the time for the full truth to be revealed. 

“I don’t know if I can.” Celeste said, blank faced and lost in thought. Copia pulled her close and placed his hand on her belly. Feeling it tighten beneath his palm as another contraction spread inside her. He smiled, pulling up her chin to face him. 

“You will, but before we have this child amore, there is something you need to know.” he told her. Celeste’s face, filled with confusion as a pair of ghouls brought her mother to stand before them.

“Mom…”

“Cece…I need to tell you something.” Lucy began, Celeste’s heart pounding inside her chest once more, teeth gritting with yet another contraction upon her. Too much was happening at once and she was now struggling to even stay conscious. 

“Go on Lucy. Tell your daughter the truth.” Copia pushed, watching with glee at the interaction. His sinister smile, making Lucy tremble. Celeste was visibly shaking, waiting for what horrors her mother would reveal to her. 

“When I was young, I made a choice. There was a man I was seeing while my family was on vacation. The man who would become your father.”

“I know this story mother—” Celeste snapped, doubling over in pain.

“No Celeste you don’t. That man was part of the Satanic church, he and I made a pact to have you. To conceive you in service of Lucifer. To give our souls and you to him. In exchange we were to have good health and riches beyond measure.. Promised a high position in the aftermath of Armageddon...”

“Oh my g–” Celeste began, as Lucy continued on.

“You were always destined to be here. Where you are right now. Your child is the darkness that will descend upon the world and bring about the end. Oh Cece, I’m so sorry…I was young and I made so many mistakes and I just can’t live with them anymore…” Her mother continued as if absolving herself of sins.

“Lucy.” Copia growled, knowing that her mother was still holding back. Celeste looked between them both. Whatever she was about to say, it seemed Copia had already been told.   

“I don’t want to be in Hell. I don’t want eternal damnation Cece. I wanted to be back in God’s light and in order to do that, I had to.”

“No…” Celeste whimpered, as if she already knew what her mother was going to say next.

“I led the men here to find you. They promised I would be forgiven for my part in your creation and that I would be welcomed back into Heaven for my sacrifice. A sacrifice of your life and the child’s…in exchange for my absolution.” 

Celeste saw RED. Her blood boiled and popped inside her veins. Rage overtaking her as Copia watched on. She lifted up the dagger still held in her hand and in one swoop stabbed deep into her mother’s chest. Yanking back as the blood gushed out from the wound and spattered all over her face. 

“Cece…” Lucy said, her sounds barely discernible as she fell to the floor. Suddenly the whole room began to tear away from them. The Abbey walls, seeming to rip apart and fly up into the air. The sky swirling with red and debris all around them for farther than their eyes could see. The rain falling from clouds, now turned to blood in the storm.  

Celeste stood above Lucy on the platform of the floor, all that was left of the room as the world collapsed around them. Adrenaline coursing through her veins and her pain at its peak when she spoke. “Welcome to the apocalypse that you helped to usher in mother. Your soul be damned.” Celeste laughed, crying as she did. Drained, she collapsed beside her mother on the floor, the baby was coming—and now.

Celeste began to scream, the labor pains coming without end. Copia dropped before her to help deliver their child. The world around them, crying as the noise of Gabriel’s trumpet sounded above them. The seas began to boil and the sky ripped open to reveal the demons and angels warring above them. 

“This is it Celeste, push and he will be here. You can do this.” Copia praised. The red dress, bathing her in blood as it flowed from its threads. Her mother’s blood still glittering her face as she rose up to bear down against the force of her contraction. Before she knew it, the sounds of cries—her child’s cries entered into the world. 

“Is he alright?” she asked, watching Copia swaddle the baby with the bed sheet. He smiled down at her and placed the warm baby into her arms. It appeared as any infant would, small and soft. Innocent looking and sweet, but the child was evil itself. Celeste looked over to Copia as the sounds of screaming and cries from humanity spread out throughout the land noises, still deeply in love. 

The Earth began to crack around them, revealing Hell beneath. Demons and Ghouls, crawling up from the bowels of the world to devour mankind. Bodies of angels falling from the sky like rain. The End had come. Celeste and Copia lost in each other’s eyes, Celeste's left eye now shining a bright white just as his. She had accepted her fate—Queen of Hell, mother of Evil. The harbinger of the end. 

“He’s perfect.” Copia assured her, lips then locked together as their infant cooed in their arms. The stars, beginning to fall from the sky.

Notes:

Clearly there are some Omen references in here since we all know how much Tobias likes that movie lol and it felt right lol.

Puoi smettere ora Lucy, siamo solo noi due. So per cosa sei venuto qui.- You can quit the act now Lucy, it is just the two of us. I know what you've come here for.

Hac sacra pugione summa mali extinguimus. Ut animam a mortali cortice solvamus.- It is with this sacred dagger we extinguish the epitome of evil. That we release the soul from its mortal shell...

[scarlet-rat]

sweetly untouched

corruption kink be hard. abuse of power and pet names as well as a very intricate sense of purity being used. this is 18+ and a part 1 of 2. if you guys like it enough i might post the second part hehe

copia x fem reader

Summer in the ministry was always exciting. Not only because time could be spent a the gardens and outside in the squares and forests alongside the possessions in the south of Italy, but also because it meant new siblings would join.

The new faces were charming, that feeling of something new, blooming, and reenergized, like the flowers in the gardens spread along the fortress that was a home for many souls who worshiped the Drak Lord.

Copia wasn't so fond of the fuzz of the new faces, mainly because it meant he had to talk to more people in the halls - giving directions and instructing new sheep inside the towering stone walls he called home for so long.

He would hide away in corners, avoiding visual contact at any cost with anyone besides the siblings of sin he already knew from past summers.

As the summer pushed to its final weeks, he had done an incredible job of avoiding the white-clothed siblings, the pure souls he so hard tried to stay away from - for his and their own good. 

But counting victory before time was one of his most significant flaws that could get the cardinal in trouble.

As he was walking down the hall, he bumped into someone on his way to dark mass. Hefty, shiny eyes looked up at him in a short instant. The hands were at her heart and the face pure. The hair was perfectly tucked inside the habit and her cheeks flustered while looking up at the older man in front of her. Her lips were the ideal shade of pink, the one he would love to run his fingers through and feel how soft they were before leaning for a kiss.

He looks down frowning, and she ran away with a muffled "sorry" scaping her perfect lips, while the cardinal stared as the novice walked down the hall in the opposite direction. He felt something inside of him.

He quite forgot about the girl he accidentally ran into a few days ago, until before the mass he finally saw her again.

With a gentle smile, sweet pinky cheeks, and delicate hands, the novice was helping a sister of sin arrange a few flowers for the black mass upon them later that night.

She kept her eyes low while Copia talked with the sister of sin who was flirting with the older man. In any other circumstance, he would've engaged and probably taken a few minutes before his sermon to have a private conversation with her.

But his eyes were locked on the innocent figure by her side, her hands anxiously shuffling and playing with her white dress. Which perfectly translated to the cardinal about her current oath status: pure and untouched. So ready to be ruined by the hands of a man that could only bring her so much pleasure she might never be able to leave his side again. Begging for more, as well as for him to give her a break. He wouldn't, he would be too desperate to run his hands through the smoothness of her skin. Her hair... He would give anything to know how her hair smelled like, how her hands would fit his - to see how they would fit around his cock.

His body started to tremble.

He didn't listen to a single word the sister of sin said, only occasionally nodding and when she mentioned excusing herself because she still needs to finish arranging the flowers, the novice smiled at him shyly and he felt the urge to simply grab her by the wrists and pin her against the closest wall. 

He brushed those thoughts away, as she noticed he was staring and blushed, turning away and walking by the sister's side.

During the mass, he made sure to change his entire sermon. He was going to talk about freedom, but Copia decided it was best to test the waters.

While noticing the novice sitting by the celibate siblings, he felt his body get hot, it was hard to breathe.

"We should devote our lascivious hunger to our Lord, and never resist the urgency of our body wishes," he spoke sweetly, his voice smooth like velvet, as well as his moves as he walks around the altar. The moon was shining through the windows, and his white eye was equally radiating such glimmer that could light up the entire chapel if the candles were to be blown by the warm breeze of midnight.

"Think of your body as a temple, as a place you perform your prayer to Satan, and, oh, he wants you to gladden yourself in the jars of honey that only carnal pleasure could furnish. To touch the untouched skin, to send the shivers his infernal breath would travel down your spine - the lips that burn like his fire on the surface of a cotton skin. Silky, sensitive, delicate, and pristine. To dedicate your sounds and never feel shame by the body our Lord so benevolently gave you the sovereignty to discover. Unravel the splendors of your pleasure, and make sure to touch your equals with such passion that could only be felt by the touch of our Infernal Savior. Nibble and consume the precious feast of flesh he gave you, savor the salt and sweetness of the skin that hides the biggest part of you: your soul that cries for pleasure and to be touched with the fire of a love that could only be taught by the one that treasured so much, and believed love had no shape. We are all flesh and blood, begging for the touch of a sacrilegious hand to break our innocence each time we let ourselves be free from the judgment that we should not give in. Give in the touch, the pleasure, the bliss. Let yourself be touched and think, trust, and obey. Listen and agree that both or more parts want the same thing. It's all about the small extent we have before we join our lord in the infernal and forever burning of the world to live in pure elation. Let yourself be unrestricted, and delight will fill you inside like the water you wish for your thirst."

During the entire sermon, he kept looking at her, at the way her hands were clasping her dress, or how pink her cheeks were when he measured her. He wanted to make her the most profane of the bodies to walk inside those walls. 

Once the mass was over, his sermon had an effect on his soul, and the cardinal didn't even leave the chapel after everyone was out before running to the small dark room he prepares himself to give in to his desires. 

Copia unbuckled his dark leather belt and unzipped his pants enough to pull out his hard and throbbing cock, already leaking with pre cum. 

He sat in the wooden chair and slowly ran his fingers through his hard length. He was so hard, it was hurting and just the ghost of his touch was already edging him before he pushed a finger along the tip of his cock, letting out a grunt. 

"Fuck," he whispered, closing his eyes. 

He slowly started to run his hand along his cock, spreading his leaking cum along it, making it sloppy as he pushed two fingers inside his mouth, sucking hard on the leather gloves he so carefully covers his hands. 

What was slow, started to build up fast, and he started to moan, echoing throughout the chapel as he left the small room's door open. He rocked his hips up, moaning loudly as he jerked himself off so fast, the leather was burning his skin. 

He made sure to clench his fists tight around his cock, thinking of how tight her pussy must be around him. How he would stretch her with his cock while mercilessly fucking her against the altar, how he would cum deep in her and make her take every inch of his cock inside her still untouched cunt. 

The fingers inside his hand was pretending to be her skin, his breasts and nipples and how he would suck on them.

As he came with a loud cry out, his body burning as his face was red and a few drops of sweat running from his scalp to his face, he opened his eyes to a white-clothed figure standing by the door. 

As his vision focused, he recognized the novice standing like a statue by the door. Her face was red as she was playing with her habit. 

Copia smiled to himself as he knew she couldn't see much but she heard all of his pleasure time. The pleasure time he had thinking about her. The Cardinal sat up and quickened to pull his pants back up. He invited her in with a velvet tone. 

She walked in slowly, her legs not moving much. 

"Tell me, sorella, what bring you here after mass and so late at night?" he asks as she approaches him. He taps the table in front of him for her to sit, and as she does, he can swear he smells under her dress, and it drives him wild. 

"I was thinking about your sermon, Cardinal," this is the first time he hears her voice and he feels like he needs to make her scream until she can't talk anymore. He nods as if to let her know she can keep talking. "And I want to give in my desires."

"That's great, my dear. And how do you wish to do that?"

"I want you to teach me... How to do it," she says it almost like a whisper, a small tone of begging that makes his cock hard again within seconds. “How to… How to give in my body for the Lord.”

Without many further rounds, the Cradinal stands up and places himself in front of her. "Spread your legs for your Cradinal, sweetie," he softly demands, his gloved hand on her thigh, and he feels her shiver. "Shh, don't you worry. What do you want me to teach you?" He asks, pressing himself between her legs. 

"How to feel pleasure, to be touched and to touch," she almost quotes his sermon word for word. 

The Cardinal nods. "I see... Then we have a lot of learning ahead of us."

[nocturnal-birb]

MISSY AND I WERE LITERALLY JUST SAYING THAT THE LINES IN THE FIRST VERSE:

FEEL REALLY CORRUPTION ARC ESQUE.

like???? what if the sweet papa we see in the chapters is just a false mask?????? And that his looks and feelings we see in those chapters are just remnants of his past? And now we'll see the real Papa.... anti-christ Papa, or evil Copia? IDK I AM THINKING SO MANY THOUGHTS BIRB IT'S MAKING ME INSANE.

so far the theories I see is that it's about him dying but you convince me another theory about it so I will be delusional about this but what if the part of "I know, and you know that I ain't got that long to last" could mean his past self/the Copia we always see is slipping off hence the next line "my looks and my feelings are just the remains of my past"

So yes the lyrics itself feels like corruption-ish way. Maybe in a way, his antichrist-side is showing

Also lemme just add this randomly cause my brain is egging about it- this could be loosely tied to Spillways too in a way cause the line "You keep a casket buried deep within. You try to mask it, but fall back in sin"

Could possibly talk about the mask he wears that is depicted in Phantom of the Opera lyrics but it's a very loose tie to look into

But I am all here for antichrist Copia if anything

[wemaynotbetheyoungonesverylong]

Buffy Season 6 episode 9 but it's Copia/Terzo playing out the Spike/Buffy dynamic.

Copia: you came back wrong... I'm in love with you

Terzo: you're in love with pain. Admit it. You like me because you enjoy getting beat down. So really, who's screwed up?

[little-alternative-girl]

#defroque @ copia

Do y'all ever see tags in a post and just have to go lay down and scream into a pillow because they're so perfect? Especially when it's in your interest? BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED TO ME LAST NIGHT WITH Z'S ONE TAG AND I FINALLY RECOVERED ENOUGH TO POST ABOUT IT.

Oh you poor thing (seductive)

[da-rulah]

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader

Summary: As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having...

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Mutual masturbation, graphic description of oral sex and penetrative sex, corruption kink, shame kink, obviously sacrilegious themes (hello?? It’s ghost…), some nastiness akin to panty-sniffing… (you’ll see what I mean lol) PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

Your shoes clacked on the solid flooring of the ministry, resonating on the marble to fill the silence. It was already late, the sun long gone and no longer illuminating the stained glass of the windows as you passed them.

You couldn’t help your hands nervously wringing as you walked towards the chapel, pace quicker than normal. Perhaps rushing there was doing nothing for your current nervous state, but idly walking was closer to torture, and any slower, you might miss him…

There were only a few minutes left of confessional, and whilst you knew it would be incredibly quiet this late into the evening, you had left it as long as possible for fear of running into anybody else.

Thursday night confessional was the quietest – after all, it was his night, and he wasn’t a Papa. Your siblings favoured their Papas, any chance for a one-to-one conversation with them but not you… You only wanted to speak to him.

The doors to the chapel at the end of the hall stood before you, your mind still toying with the idea of turning and running, maybe trying again next Thursday… It had taken you weeks to muster the courage to confess this evening, and the chapel doors were the furthest you had ever got without retreating to the safety of your dorm. Tonight, you were determined – you had to confess.

With a deep breath, your hands – which you had adorned in some very pretty black lace gloves – opened the doors to the chapel. The creak echoed along the intricate stone architecture, and with it you heard a smaller creak of a wooden door, followed by a tiny slam. Had you not been looking dead ahead at the confessional booth as you entered, you perhaps wouldn’t have noticed it was in fact the confessional door closing very quickly.

On his side.

‘He thought he was done for the evening’, you thought.

You stayed put for a moment, contemplating just running back to your dorm and allowing his evening to end here – maybe he was disappointed that a sibling had come to confessional at the very last moment.

“Sh-should I come back next week?” you asked to the open room.

“Oh, uh… no, no. Please, sister. I was just, uh… stretching my legs. Por favore, come. Sit,” he invited.

You couldn’t help but smile a little at his sheepishness, like a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, protesting his innocence.

Quickly, you shut the chapel doors behind you and clacked your way over to the confessional, taking a seat across from his side and sitting awkwardly on the plush leather bench. The screen between the two of you kept a comfortable separation, forbidding you from having to look him in his wonderfully mismatched eyes.

You weren’t sure you could do this without that luxury…

“When you’re ready, Sorella.”

You took a deep breath, your hands playing with the fabric of your habit at the knees.

“Cardinal, I… I have sinned,” you began.  

“Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?”

This was harder than you had anticipated, the fear of judgement so prevalent in your mind you thought of making up something far less than that you had planned to express.

Of course, you would not be judged for your sins – but praised. Confessional was not to be absolved of your sins, rather to celebrate them. You were supposed to sin, and at least one confessional per month was mandatory as a Sibling of Sin at the ministry. But this one felt like one you perhaps should have kept to yourself…

“Sorella?” he urged again, gently attempting to coax your sins from you.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal, this is… embarrassing.”

“Take your time, but know that no matter what, the dark lord will be pleased with y-“ “Lust, Cardinal. It’s… it’s lust,” you interrupted.

“Oh…” he seemed taken aback, almost awkward himself. “Well, uhh… In your own time, eh?”

You looked up from your hands where you had been staring at the lace that adorned them, taking a look through the lattice screen and barely seeing his outline across from you. You could only just make out the red of his cassock, not so bright in the dim lighting of the booth. The red was your favourite…

“Cardinal, I’ve been having these dreams…” you began, “well, the same dream. Always the same… and it follows me. I can’t think straight anymore, it’s… affecting my days, my work. My siblings are starting to notice my mind wanders and I can’t explain it to them. I’m trying to continue my duties, but I find it so hard to focus after having this dream.”

In the booth beside you, Cardinal Copia listened intently. “Sorella, is this a… dream of a, uh… sexual nature?” he asked tentatively, shy himself.

Copia was perhaps the most awkward of the higher ups, nothing like his brothers in their blatant sexuality and charm with women. Perhaps that had been where this started; a curiosity of sorts. Perhaps his somewhat goofy persona is what had caught your eye, made your thoughts wander during seminars and Black Mass.

Whatever had sparked this, it had only grown.

“Yes, Cardinal… They are,” you shuffled on the bench, the leather squeaking beneath you, “I dream I’m studying late, in a seminar room and… well, I’m not alone. One thing leads to another, and… I’m sure you can imagine what happens next.” You hurried to finish your sentence, praying to Satan himself the Cardinal didn’t press the subject of your dream much further and this may be enough of a confession to please the dark lord.

But imagine is exactly what the Cardinal was doing.

Had he not seen it was you who opened the chapel doors at 10:56pm on a Thursday evening as his confessional duties were coming to an end, perhaps he could have remained professional, listened to your confession without issue.

But you were exactly the issue. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…

The Sorella who smiled at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.

The Sorella who never misses a seminar he’s hosting.

The Sorella who only ever confesses on a Thursday, during his duty.

The Sorella who keeps stealing glances at him as his brothers perform Black Mass.

His heart ached a little at the prospect you were dreaming of someone, of anyone other than him. But whilst his heart ached, his crotch twitched… Already, the picture you had painted for him was enough to be the focus of his imagination long into the night.

Copia coughed once to rid the thought from his mind as best he could.

“And these are dreams, you say?” he asked, hoping to drag your confession out just a little longer, to see if you would let any more information slip.

“Well, they started that way…”

The Cardinal’s head snapped to look at the screen between you both as if he were looking directly in your eyes, but he could only see the silhouette of your side profile in the dark.

“Please, explain...”

Heat crept onto your cheeks, a blush spreading as you recounted the dreams in vivid detail that had turned into daydreams.

“My mind wanders during the day… I can’t help myself.”

The Cardinal hadn’t realised he was squeezing his own knees with his hands until he heard the leather of his gloves squeak from the pressure. He quickly shook them out, ridding his mind of the thoughts you had placed there without intention.

“The subject of these desires – is it always the same person, mio cara?” he asked bravely.

“Yes, Cardinal…”

He took a deep breath, a part of him so hoping this wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

“Do you wish to tell me who, mio cara?” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t praying to Satan himself that the subject of your fantasies was him. He wouldn’t know what to do with the information if he had it, but he needed to know, he had to pry…

“This is why I’m embarrassed, Cardinal… I-“ you paused. Were you really about to do this? Were you going to confess to this?

“This is a safe place, Sorella. Speak your truth, tell me your sins…” he urged, verging on desperate as he tried to keep his voice composed.

In your booth, your mind swam with the images of your dreams… Slow touches over your habit, gentle caresses of your cheek turning into ravenous kisses and manhandling until you were bent over your dear Cardinal’s desk with your rear on display and core soiling your panties. Just the images were enough to make you squeeze your knees together in an attempt to still the pulsing you felt between your legs…

“Cardinal…” you almost whined in a hushed voice. The poor man beside you had to bite into his leather-clad fist to stop himself from reacting. That whine; it sent a shiver down his spine that rippled across his whole body, the blood seeming to drain from the top of his head to one focal point below his waist… It took all the strength he had not to palm himself through his cassock.

Instead, he remained quiet. The only sound was the noise his leather gloves made as he squeezed his hands into fists. But he needed to give you the chance to speak, he wasn’t going to force you into admission…

“I-I’m sorry, Cardinal… but… it’s you.”

And there it was. Two little words that put his mind in a tailspin.

It’s you.

“Sweet sorella…” he whispered, “don’t apologise…”

But how could you not? You had been mortified the second the admission left your lips. You didn’t have to tell him it was him, but something had forced it out of you, some tiny little bit of hope that he would show an interest, or at the very least, that he wouldn’t chastise you for such dirty thoughts of him.

“Do you think less of me, Cardinal?” you asked in a hushed tone, tears almost threatening to creep up on you.

“Mio cara, as if I ever could… Your sins are celebrated here, you know this, eh?” The cardinal sounded as if he was pleading with you, begging you not to be disgusted or angry at yourself. Truly, that was exactly what he was doing; because he was more aroused by your admission than anything he had ever seen, heard or felt before.

Because it was you.

“But...” “No, Sorella, I won’t hear it. You are free to sin, we… we encourage sin,” he stumbled a little over his words, trying to be decent and professional but his resolve was quickly crumbling.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, the only sound the creak of the wooden booth as the Cardinal shifted on his bench. The mere thought that the Cardinal might encourage this behaviour, that he might encourage your filthy thoughts about him had you biting your lip to save the whimper that had crept up your throat.

“May I ask something, Sorella? A question you don’t have to answer,” he asked, leaning slightly closer to the lattice between you and lowering his voice as if others could hear.

“Mm-hmm,” was all you could manage, still holding back that whimper as your thighs squeezed together a little tighter.

“Do you ever… act on those dreams?”

It was unprofessional, and he knew it. It was invasive, and he knew it. But he could never forgive himself if he didn’t at least ask.

In the tiniest voice, barely audible even in the silence of the chapel, you replied, “Once…”

But he heard you. Oh, he heard you loud and clear.

And the thought of his cara, his sweetest sorella fantasising about him to a point of arousal where she simply cannot help herself but to reach under her habit and… Well, it was driving him wild. His already wildly engorged erection was almost painful, begging to be touched. In a battle between his mind and his body, his body had won – his palm pushed against himself, slowly as to evade suspicion from just his shadow alone.

The guilt he felt as he crumbled… If you knew how filthy the old man was being, how he couldn’t help himself when it came to you, how he just had to touch himself as you confessed in confidence to him, you would surely despise him. He knew that.

And yet, at this point he was close to risking it all for just one moment of bliss.

“Cardinal, I’m so sorry… this was too much. I shouldn’t have come tonight, should never have said anything,” you panicked. He’d been quiet for a beat too long, and it was driving you insane. You needed to go, to run back to your dorm and lock yourself away to take care of yourself and the heat pooling between your legs whilst simultaneously avoiding any and all encounters with the Cardinal for the foreseeable future.

You stood up to leave when…

“No, no, wait, per favore…”

His tone stopped you in your tracks – the distress, as if he were the one in the wrong out of the two of you, as if he were the pervert.

“Mio cara, I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. And I don’t want you to feel like what you have thought or done is wrong.”

At least, not wrong enough that you should feel any shame. Sin was indeed the point, after all...

“And I certainly wouldn’t want you to leave without a sense of climax, eh?”

His chosen words felt cryptic, as if he himself were testing the waters but you couldn’t be sure. Yet the slight possibility was enough to make you sit back down and wait for him to continue.

Did he mean confessional? That you hadn’t heard his usual ‘celebration of sin’ speech he did for every confession before you had left? Or did he mean it in the literal sense?

Oh, Satan, you hoped for the literal sense. The one and only climax you had ever allowed yourself with thoughts of him running rabid in your mind had been the single most religious experience you’d had since joining the ministry.

“Dolcezza,” he began, “If… if you so wish, you can tell me about your dreams. I’ll think no less of you, te lo prometto (I promise you)…”

His tone was so soothing, as if he had morphed into the very serpent that tempted Eve to the apple. Was that what he was doing? Tempting you? You had no time to ponder the thought, your mouth betraying your mind as you began to recount the parts of the dream you had hidden from him before.

“I’m studying… Latin translation, Cardinal – your specialty,” you spoke with admiration, “you offer to help me, standing beside the desk as I translate a text for you. It’s about… sins of the flesh, and how they can be used as an offering to Lucifer.”

The Cardinal beside you listened intently, his palm slowly resuming the pressure he’d put on his length over his cassock before.

“I… tell you I’d never committed that sin before. At least, not with another… that’s when you crouch down beside me, and tell me it’s the most wonderful feeling. How… important the female orgasm is, and how… I should try it sometime. With someone I trusted, of course. And then, I…” just thinking of what you say to him in the dream had you squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment, cringing at yourself but your cardinal beside you… he was so desperate to hear what you do next.

“I tell you I trust you… And you tell me you’ll take good care of me,” you divulged.

Oh, he would take good care of you, he thought, gripping his cock through his cassock hard to stifle the groan that rumbled deep in his chest. The shame that washed over him as he gave in to his own selfish desperation weighed heavy on his shoulders, and had it been anybody but you he wouldn’t even dare to indulge. But it was you – his sweetest sorella…  

“Sorella, I would take good care of you...” Copia tested the waters, relieved to hear the tiniest of whimpers from your side of the booth as his words settled in the air. You squeezed your thighs tightly together, your knees raising as you twisted in your seat to feel as much friction as possible without having to reach down between your thighs.

“Please, continue mio cara…”

You took a deep breath, “you lean in to kiss me, gently at first but… your hands push my veil back from my hairline until it drops, and wind their way into my hair. I just… I can’t help myself then. Before I know what overcomes me, I’m gripping onto your cassock and pulling you as close as possible, Cardinal. I get… so desperate,” you breathed, your hand snaking to cup yourself between your legs, unable to stand the lack of pressure any longer.

“Tesoro…” he moans beside you. His hand effortlessly unbuttons his cassock, pushing its way past the waistband of his pants to grip himself bare underneath.  He’s too far gone to worry about you catching on. Hell, he almost wished you would.

Like a bolt of electricity, a shock shot through your body to your core at the sound of his moan. It was better than you had dreamed, far deeper, the timbre of his voice vibrating through you. It only served to push you into confessing more…

“You lift me to sit on the desk and stand between my knees, your hands disappearing from my hair to under my habit,” your hand began to rub against your core, the other bunching your habit up around your knees, pulling it higher and higher to expose your legs beneath.

You felt utterly mortified at yourself, so eager to relieve yourself beside your cardinal. But you wouldn’t dare stop, not when you could still hear his breath deepening, slowing as if trying to control himself also.

“You touch me, and… it feels incredible,” you whine, your own fingers replicating his in your dream, now able to push your panties to the side and slowly drag through your soaked core, the lace of your gloves dampening. Copia could barely drag his fist over his length from under his pants but it sure as hell didn’t stop him as he envisioned getting to push his gloved fingers into your beautifully glistening pussy…

You don’t wait for any kind of response, your fight or flight instincts kicking in. To give him an opportunity to interrupt and scold you for your dreams would be a grave mistake on your part and one you may not recover from – so you just continued…

“Your fingers, they… slide into me. The leather feels cold – I like it, it’s… nice,” you whine, pushing your own laced fingers into you as you spoke, slowly… “But you take them out again, and you taste them…”

“Merda,” he hissed, squeezing himself. The picture in his mind was so perfect, he could practically hear your moans, hear the way his fingers sounded gliding through your slick…

No, wait…

He really could hear that…

His eye shot open – he hadn’t even realised they were shut this whole time – and he sat bolt upright, the hand in his pants slipping back out. He stilled, listening out for that tell-tale sound again, the quiet, wet squelch of what he prayed to Satanas was your fingers gliding through your slick.

And he heard it again.

His heart weighed so heavy in his chest, shame washing over him. You were part of his congregation. He was someone you looked up to, turned to for guidance and teachings and yet here he was – letting himself paint the filthiest picture of the two of you. You trusted him, and here he was having to force his hand away from his cock as you confessed your sin.

‘Copia, you pathetic old pervert’, he thought to himself.

“C-Cardinal…” you whined, and that was enough for him. Perhaps he was a disgusting, perverted old man who was hopelessly in love with a member of his congregation, and he just had to live with that – because there wasn’t a single circle of hell vile enough to deter him from unlacing the front of his pants to let his thick cock spring free and chase the pleasure he denied himself after hearing his name spill from your lips like that.

On your side, your mind couldn’t string together any form of coherency aside from recounting the details of your dream aloud. The lace of your glove was sodden with slick, fingers delving as deep as possible as you slumped against the back of the booth, legs spread and habit bunched around your hips.

“Y-you get to your knees in front of me, and… and you use your mouth,” you sob, clenching around your own fingers. “Your tongue, it… feels… ohh,” you moaned wantonly, catching yourself in what you were doing and suddenly realising you were no longer being remotely subtle.

Your eyes widened, fear rushing through you as you looked to your left at the figure behind the lattice. What would he think of you? He would be so ashamed of you… how could you ever look him in the eye again? Your mind raced with panic, until movement in your peripheral caught your attention.

A slow, rhythmic shadow… where his lap should be…

Paired with the short, sharp breaths he tried to hush that followed each movement of that shadow, you could surely draw only one conclusion.

And the thought had a fresh wave of heat sweeping through your core…

“S-sometimes this part, it’s… different…” you began again, slowly resuming your self-pleasure.

“Mmf, how… how so, dolce?” he asked, slowly pumping his cock in his hand, his eyes squeezing shut again and leaning his head against the back wall of his booth.

“Sometimes you… you make me cum on your tongue but sometimes… you c-can’t wait…” you stutter, picturing the scene in your head as your free hand comes to circle your clit, adding a layer of pleasure that had fresh slick slipping past your fingers.

“Fanculo… What do you mean, Tesoro?” he asks, his thumb spreading the beads of precum shining at the head of his cock. The leather glove he wore shone wet as he fisted his length.

“You uh… you spin me around a-and, you push me down against the desk…” you avowed, “and you f-fuck me, Cardinal…” If you had learned anything about yourself today, it was that you had a shame kink – because the way your pussy clenched around your gloved fingers as you spoke was too telling…

“In nome di Satanas (in Satan’s name)…” he growled beside you, his fist pumping fast enough that you could hear the sound of his cock gliding through it. “I… fuck you, Sorella?”

“I-I’m sorry for… my language, Cardinal…” you pleaded, unable to stop yourself from fucking your fingers deeper into you, your foot propped up on the wall opposite you.

“Oh, mio cara… don’t you apologise,” he smirked as he sat basking in your sweet attempt at an apology as if he didn’t know you were doing far worse next to him than cursing. Satanas, he fucking loved your innocence – but more so, he loved knowing that it was him who could corrupt it.

Still, he heard those delicious noises from beside him, his mind racing trying to imagine how you would taste given the chance to try… His dolcezza… Just one chance to taste you and he’d never forget how sweet you truly were.

But oh, Satanas, the thought of bending you over that desk in his classroom and sinking his length into your tight, wet cunt… It was almost too much for Copia. He had to squeeze himself at the base to stave off an early orgasm. No way was he finishing before you had confessed all to him.

“Will you tell me how, Tesoro?” he asks, and your willingness to answer him stuns you; how easily you gave in to your Cardinal, wanting nothing more than to please him.

“You’re… gentle with me. You take care of me, make sure you don’t hurt me… At least at first,” your hands slowed to the pace you envisioned his hips meeting yours, the building pressure in your abdomen lessening for the time being. The cardinals fist did the same, simulating the feeling of filling you.

“You always tell me how good I’m doing, that... you know I can handle more.” How you had got him so accurate in your dream is beyond him; as he slowly fisted his cock he knew that he would say those things to you, he would always praise you, tell you how good you were being for him. He’d only ever want to take care of you, to make sure you not only felt every single ridge and vein of his thickness but that you were comfortable while doing so.

“I know you’d be good for me, amore mio…” Copia was too far gone to recognise his own tiny confession as he talked you through your dream.

“C-Cardinal…” you whimper, your fingers curling inside you to reach the spot you just know his cock would hit with every slow thrust.

“It’s okay, Sorella…” he reassured, willing you to continue. If he got to hear you climax, to hear those gasps and sordid moans spill from you as you came, he could die a happy – if somewhat perverted – man.

“You start to get faster… harder… I can feel the edge of the desk digging into my thighs,” your clit pulsed under the circles you drew over it, “y-you p-pull my hair a little… a lot,” you corrected yourself as you stuttered. In your dream, Copia would wrap his fingers in your hair and pull until your chest lifted from the desk. “It hurts a little, but… I like it.”

He couldn’t take much more of this. His cock was leaking profusely as his fist quickened its pace. From beside you, you could hear his grunts, and the moment he spits into his palm to make the glide of his fist easier. It only served to heighten your arousal more.

Imagining his hips pistoning into you from behind, you couldn’t help but rut against your own fingers, little whimpers leaving you with each thrust. In the booth beside you, Copia was doing much the same, hips thrusting up into his fist which had now stilled to allow the next best thing other than your pussy.

“Sorella, I… merda,” he didn’t even know what he was trying to say, his mind simply clouded with thoughts of you and only you.

You were giving in, hands working so fast to race towards an end. You needed release, you needed to cum. For how long you had stopped yourself from touching yourself to these fantasies, you could barely edge yourself any longer. You’d only ever allowed yourself a release to thoughts of Copia once before, when it had become too much and now you were finally allowing yourself again.

And not only you, but the Cardinal was sat beside you, furiously fucking into his fist as if it were you because of your fantasy… You couldn’t hold off if you tried.

You pressed your lips together in a hard line as you hummed, suppressing a moan that would ricochet off the chapel walls for the ministry to hear. The pressure built and built, heat turning into a spark, to a flame until you ignited an inferno…

“C-Copia… Please,” you howled into your shoulder, curling in on yourself as you met your end. You fucked yourself through your orgasm, feet kicking out against the wood of the booth.

At the sound of his name – his real name – being thrown from your lips in desperation was enough to make his cock pulse in his fist, hips stuttering as he shot thick spurts of cum across his hand and down the front of his cassock. But the sounds of your fingers deep inside yourself and the thumps of you thrashing around next to him drove him animalistically wild, continuing to desperately thrust into his fist into overstimulation.

The both of you had to slow to catch your breath, slumping into opposite corners of the booths and both of you removing your hands from the messes you had made of yourselves. Your glove was sopping, to a point it almost repulsed you – you had to slip it off, letting it fall beside you as you recovered from your post-orgasm exhaustion.

The silence between the two of you was leaving too many unanswered questions, neither one of you knowing how to proceed from here. But frankly, you both needed to catch your breath and calm yourselves down before you could even think straight.

“Sorella…” Copia started, tucking himself back into his pants. “You…” he sighed, shame washing over him once again now the orgasm haze had dissipated. He ran his clean hand through his hair, and slotted himself back into Cardinal mode. “You should say your prayer of thanks…”

Disappointment washed over you, followed by a helping of embarrassment. He wanted to wrap up whatever this had been quick, and have you go on your way… Why had you expected anything different?

“Um… yeah, I… I should,” you started. Sitting up, your roll your habit back down to hang around your ankles and began your prayer. “Satanas, I thank you for your guidance and celebrate my sin with you, shrouded in your darkness. Nema.” You kept it short, now desperate to flee the chapel as fast as possible to run and hide in humiliation.

“I celebrate your sin in the name of Lucifer, our Dark Lord,” Copia stayed on script, as if this were any regular confession.

“His wrath endures forever,” you respond, as you knew you should.

“Your sins are celebrated…” he hesitated – he didn’t want you to go like this, he was screaming at himself in his head but his professionalism stopped him from wavering. “Go in peace,” he sighed, leaning forward against his knees, unable to even watch your shadow as you stood and left the booth.

The regret Copia felt stung in his chest – not for the act of sin he had just committed, he could never regret a moment with you. But he regretted the way he let you leave, hearing your heels clacking on the marble floor faster than they had approached earlier that evening. You got out of there fast, and he was so mad at himself for making you feel like you needed to run from him.

Copia looked down in his lap at the mess he had made of himself. He shrugged out of his cassock, the stains localised to just the jacket so he could at least leave with a little dignity in his pants and shirt underneath. He stepped out of the booth, checking that there was nothing to clean up on his side – luckily not, he was already far too ashamed of himself to have to spend any more time here.

He walked to your side to check for the same, praying to Lucifer there was nothing left on the bench either. Cleaning up his own mess was humiliating enough, but cleaning up yours? Satanas, he’d be mortified…

As he opened the door to the other side, he noted no stains on the leather of the bench. However, he noticed a small black heap in the corner. With a gloved hand, he reached for it, picking it up between pinched fingers.

It was lace… not panties like he had first thought, but a glove. Your lace glove.

You wore them often when he saw you around the ministry, enjoying the pretty pattern no doubt. He laid it in his palm, wondering how to give this back to you without combusting on the spot in horror after what he had just done when he noticed it left a dark, shiny mark on his leather clad hand. A wet mark.

Realisation dawned on him and the blood drained from his face.

You hadn’t taken it off… That mark; that was all you.

He quickly scrunched the glove up in his hand as if hiding it from prying eyes, despite being alone. With a quick guilty look over his shoulders and around the empty chapel, he opened his fist a little closer to his face, picking up a sweet, intoxicating scent as he did so.

He twitched in his pants again at the knowledge that was your scent. That was how you smelled.

Satanas… How could he ever look you in the fucking eye again?

His Sorella… his amore…

What a sick, perverted old Cardinal he was.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 A/N: Hey! Welcome, I'm Bee - I'm new to Ghost tumblr, and well, to Ghost too... but not new to writing fan fiction and so this seemed like the natural progression of my new found love of this band. So hi, welcome. I'm planning more fics as we speak... but feel free to send me some prompts and I'll write little blurbs/one shots out of those too... SEND ME A PROMPT

[enjoy-my-swearing]

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

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

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

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

[sentientgolfball]

How about you speak those aether corruption thoughts out loud huh

Well you see

I think Aether does everything in his power to make sure he is the first one the new summons fall into bed with. Only he can do it. Only he can show them how good it feels to get touched. The others are too rough, too selfish. But him? Oh he’ll make sure they know how good it feels to be split open. How good it feels to be pinned. How good it feels to just let go and give in.

Maybe when Phantom and Aurora are summoned he can’t quit get to them. He’s so busy in the infirmary and fixing Copia’s fuck up with the taxes. But that doesn’t stop him from making sure he is the one who introduces them to all the things their new bodies can do. Maybe he sees Swiss getting cozy with them and he uses a little quint to keep him away? Swiss can wait his turn. Maybe he uses a little quint on Phantom during one of their guitar lessons? Not enough to make them slip, just enough to bring new sensations to light. And who knows? Maybe he stands outside of their room when they get back to the den just to listen to them whine while they try to figure out what feels good. Clearly they need a guiding hand.

He doesn’t even fuck them the first time he gets them alone. He just pulls them close, back to chest in front of his mirror. He makes them touch themselves how they’ve been doing it, just to see what they do. Oh he coos so softly.

“No wonder you asked for my help. You need someone to show you?”

He gets a hand around their cock. Buries his fingers in their cunt. He makes them cum again and again until tears collect in their eyes. He has to. He needs them to know how good it feels.

Think he does something similar to new Siblings too. I think Aether is one of the first ghouls all new Siblings meet. He is a kind and gentle ghoul and his quint lets him know if the new human needs any medical attention before they fully move into the Ministry. He’s not as possessive over them as he is the new summons so he doesn’t put in as much effort to get to them. But oh when the stars align and a new Sibling bashfully approaches him he loses it.

He loves how shy most humans are when it comes to sex. He loves watching them flush when he whispers filth into their ears as he undresses them. He loves the way they instinctively try to hide themselves. He loves spreading them open and showing them everything a demon can do. Ruining them forever. Knowing another human will never be able to satisfy them the way he does makes him throb.

He just loves being the one to show them how good it feels when you give in to sin.

[gravehags]

it’s not bad enough that i’ve been up since 3:30 i have to be wildly horny too?? it’s still sleepytime hours, down girl

[dearlymrme]

Hi can you pleaaaaassse do HCs about Copias corruption kink I’ll literally die

Have a little short nonny.

Innocence Is Overated (Copia x Reader)

You both have a kink.

Who does Papa turn to for confession with all his predecessors dead?

Copia has to try hard to convince himself once in a while. He’s a good man. He’s an honest man, well, sure, there's a little white lie once in a while, but he’s never hurt anybody with it. He’s never stolen, and he’s worked hard to get where he is now. (Even though he’s almost certain his name was drawn from a hat.) He keeps everything tidy. He’s frank. He’s polite. He’s a good man.

But his eyes are on you.

You’re new to the sisterhood and still wet behind the ears, with your habit on proper and not a hair out of place. You’re bright, you’re shiny, you’re fresh. You have a soft voice, a shy smile, and despite being a Sister of Sin, you have innocent eyes. He always sees you working, helping someone with their tasks or chores, volunteering to do more. You’re wonderful with the children, compassionate with the ghouls, and come up with fun games for both of them. You’re full of energy, your kind, you have such a sweet smile and give it to everyone, including him, you light up like a festive float anytime you cross someone in the halls. You're just so…pure.

And he wants to see you absolutely destroyed. He wants to see your mascara running with tears down your flushed cheeks. He wants to see your lipstick smeared and your lips puffy and kiss swollen. He was to see your neck decorated with a choker of bruises. He wants to see your tits suckled with bite marks. He wants to see your pussy, puffy and gummed with his leaking cum. He wants to take this pure ray of sunshine and turn it into the dirtiest fucking poster whore he can. He wants to wreck you in every way possible. Stain you in such a way nobody else will want you.

He’s a good man. He swears.

But any time he gets alone in his office, he imagines you and his cock throbs. He imagines you in his office dressed in all manner of skimpy things. Sometimes, it's your habit. Sometimes, it's a cute little plaid skirt. But more often, it's something white. Whatever it is he's flipping up your dress to slide off your cute panties (polka-dot, soft little clouds, even kittens) and stuffing his face between your thighs until your legs are quivering and you can barely stand. He imagines fingering your tight cunt and curling his digits until you sob his name just right and licks his lips at the thought of getting you to squelch.

He wonders if you’ve ever sucked cock before. He wraps a hand around his dick as it jumps at the thought that he’d be your first. Your eyes wide in alarm as he reveals to you his thick fat member and guides your hands down to wrap around it and get a feel for just how large he is. He’s the thickest you’ve ever had.

He imagines you swallowing nervously and looking up at him with a hint of fear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” He promises. Oh don’t worry, he will. He’ll be gentle up until he manages to get half of it down your throat and then shoves in the other half without remorse. He’ll apologize. ‘An accident.’ He swears. But after that first gag and those first tracks of tears down your cheeks you’ll get the idea. You’ll try your hardest to get all of him down your throat, your pretty pink lips stretched around his cock and shiny with precum, spit, and your cherry chapstick.

He’d shower you with compliments and praise. You’d love it. He’ll help you discover your kink for it.

“Doing so good, taking me so well.” Your face would flush, and your thighs would rub together. You gag, you try your hardest to take him but your jaw hurts and he pulls you off gently by your chin and slaps your cheek with his wet, spit slick cock.

“Look at what you're doing to me. All that is for you. You're making me feel so good. Look how hard and wet I am for you." And you're wet and frustrated before he guides you to the bed and has you lay down. He pulls your legs apart and lines himself up.

Belial, you would be so tight, or perhaps it’s just been too long for you. Either way, you grip him like a vice and whimper when he stuffs you with his cock, he can feel your walls sucking him in and flexing around him as he pushes further and further into you and-

Copia grunts as the band in his lower stomach snaps and cum jets from his cock. He tightens his hand over his dick and squeezes before slowly gliding his fist over his shaft and milks himself of his release.

He sighs, slouching on his bed pillows, and lets his orgasm rumble through him. Then he reaches the nightstand and takes a few tissues, and cleans himself up.

This is always where the fantasy ends. He simply can’t help himself.

Satanas, what he would give for the real thing.

He's in the midst of cleaning up for the night when he hears a knock from his door and goes to answer only to finding you there with a flush on your face, that same flush he had been fantasizing about mere minutes ago. You're wearing a simple but thin tee-shirt with cartoon characters and a pair of shorts.

"Hello Papa...do you have a minute to talk?" And you're shifting your thighs just so, and he can't help but glance at your cleavage so obviously pronounced in your shirt. There, he sees a ruby red fabric with white circles, just barrly oeaking out from the low collar of your shirt.

Polka-dots.

And well...

...He does try very hard to be a good man.

[copiousloverofcopia]

Here it is!!! The second to LAST chapter of the Red Dress!

I hope you like it!!! It's been a long time coming and the end is SOMETHING SO GET READY lol

The Red Dress Chapter 8: The Whore of Babylon

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven't started yet? Read from the beginning HERE.

Definitely NSFW below the cut

6 Months later

Deep beneath the halls of Basilica Papale di San Pietro sat a solemn group of men. Their scarlet-colored robes, like a sea of red along the long rectangular table. Its top, inlaid with metals of gold and silver, and adorned in jewels of diamond and ruby. Opulence at its finest, an intricate design of crossed keys and tiara–all culminating in the coats of arms of the Holy See and Vatican City.

The Cardinals of his most Holy order had assembled quietly in the dead of night. Time was of the essence and all the signs that the end of days was upon them had been rumored to have begun. They awaited their final confirmation. The solemn and sacred room, known only to the select few, was dimly lit with only a few candles and sconces. Its walls, heavy with their concerned chatter. 

Their voices hushed amongst themselves in the otherwise quiet depths of the city. Speculation and intrigue, driving them on as they anxiously awaited news. The men, both young and old, were worried beyond measure. The implications before them were not just another delicate matter to be “handled”. A scandal involving another of their brethren with his choir boy singing songs of closed doors and sodomy—no this was something that would change everything.

Suddenly the large doors of the chamber were opened and in walked a young man, escorted by another older one. The young man’s eyes had been gouged out—and recently from the smell of blood that covered his frightened face. His ragged appearance, sickly and disturbing. Even more so because it was of his own doing. The blind man shook as he walked inside, a haunting silence fell over the group as the two reached the table. The young man’s escort nudged him, informing him that they had reached their destination.

As the doors closed up behind them, and before another word was spoken, a tall and stoic man rose from the table. Adjusting the lay of his cassock as he prepared to address them. The Cardinal was in his late 60s, with stark white hair, just visible beneath his biretta. His physicality, menacing to those around him. Though even he shuddered at the sight of the young man before him—swallowing back the knot in his throat as everyone else waited for him to speak. The sounds of thunder rumbling all the way down to them from the brewing storm above. 

“Bishop Patrice, has he seen it? Has it begun?” the Cardinal asked, all eyes falling to the mysterious men. “Word has come to us from the Americas that the woman was seen with HIM in public.”

“Si, she has been found and is under his protection. I fear we are far too late.” the older man answered, once again nudging the other to speak. To their horror, the young man let out a shrieking cry. Crimson pouring once again from his eye sockets, the wounds once again fresh with the flow of blood and the scent of festering decay. 

“She carries the filth inside her womb. It has been done. We have no choice. She must be dealt with before it is allowed to be born.” he cried, tears of warm blood spilling to the ground below him. The group of men’s eyes washed over in horror as they listened on. 

“Cardinal Mariano. Where is his holy eminence? He must be notified. We are running out of time.” chimed in another man who sat at the table.

“We can handle this—” he began before another man interrupted. 

“But we need his guidance in this—” he asked just before Cardinal Mariano slammed his fist down on the table below him, pulling all mouths closed as if by attached strings, and attention back to his command. 

“His holy eminence is not well. Seems as things have progressed, his life force has weakened.”

“Perhaps God finds him worthy to escape the suffering? We don’t have the manpower to attack. Their Hell-Spawn out number our crusaders 2:1.” said another man. The room was growing with discontent. The Cardinals were weary, hearts heavy and minds agonizing over the undeniable certainty of Armageddon. Unrest—running over them like a wildfire in the brush of a forest. 

The sounds of the clergymen arguing, rivaling the thunder from above as Cardinal Mariano once again slammed his fist down. Their attention on him once more. Their eyes glowing with the hint of candlelight illuminating from his gaze.  “Gentlemen please! Bishop, how far along is the pregnancy?” he asked. 

“It’s almost time.” the young, blinded man called out, “The child is due in 4 weeks' time.” He finished as another man got up from the table only to drop to his knees in prayer. Clutching his rosary as called out for God. 

“Dio, Ti preghiamo di mostrarci misericordia mentre combattiamo contro l'impuro e l'antidivino.” 

“Oh my God what do we do? We must kill it before it draws its first breath, or it will be too late.” The older bishop replied. 

“I have a plan and here she is.” Cardinal Mariano stated, just as another knock came at the door. Two Cardinals left their seats to open it. An older, well-kept woman walked into the room. Her sudden unexpected appearance was puzzling to all, but Mariano who knew exactly the reason for her being there. She was unfamiliar to them, flaxen hair pulled up into a loose bun and a cross necklace gracing her chest, which was surrounded by redness of the skin, where it lay. “Well Lucy? Where is your daughter?”

She took a deep breath. Guilt written all over her well-groomed face as she adjusted her stance. The Versace pumps he stood in felt like she’d been walking on ice. Slick and ready to fall at any moment. Was she really going to do this for the sake of her soul—at the cost of her daughter’s? Her grandchild’s?

“I know right where we can find her.”  

She was absolutely regal. Obsidian gown, flowing out from behind her and dripping in deep red jewels. A crown of black thorns, and vertebral bone, gracing her head. She appeared every bit as majestic as they had imagined. The promised bearer of Papa’s fruit. Unholy Mother and bringer of the end of times. 

Celeste could feel it. A sense of grandeur befalling her from the moment she stepped inside the Abbey. The warmth and tingling inside her veins, swirling through her as the eyes of the Abbey, the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, all fixed on her. Their gaze among the glow of Hell spawn orbs that shone from behind their masks. Beings she once feared, now singing her praises. All of them staring into her soul—knowing it had finally begun. 

Their queen had arrived and with her their king had returned. The Antichrist, prodigy of the Beast, home now safely with his bride. They trembled before her and Copia, falling to their knees in worship from the moment her shoe hit the marble floor. The subjects within her newfound kingdom, welcoming her and giving her a sense of home more than she’d ever known before.

Months had passed since her arrival and she had all but given way to her destiny. The signs had begun as her belly continued to swell beneath the lavish fabrics of her gowns. Reports of strange occurrences had begun all across the world. Hundreds of thousands of people, missing all at once—their clothes left on the ground where they once stood. Oceans, spilling their dead on beaches. Their sands, full of corpses of fish and marine life on display. The water of the seas boiling hot. 

Celeste knew it would be time for her and Copia to travel to Meggido. The place where she must give birth to their son. A final strike of Satan’s power in the face of God. Taking down Heaven’s stronghold—helping to at last dissolve Yahweh’s reign.

She stood on the balcony as she watched the sun begin to eclipse in the sky. The world, beginning to shroud in darkness, having no idea what horrors would await them. Copia came sauntering out towards her, hungry and ready. Celeste, still facing out at the world, did not notice until suddenly his needy hands grabbed her from behind. His Queen, jolting a bit before relaxing into his embrace. 

His hands wandered over her. Exploring her, conquering her already with the faint touch of his fingers as they traced her. Up they traveled along her thighs and over her belly until they reached the swell of her breasts. Copia, squeezing them in his hands tightly before Celeste began to whimper at his touch. “Copia, please!” she cried, turning quickly to face him. Copia catching her lips with his own. 

She could taste the wine on him. The Antichrist and his followers, rejoicing as the time of his rise grew closer and closer. Displays of gluttony and decadence that would have made the ancient Roman seem tame. While he was the embodiment of evil itself, Celeste was his only weakness and Copia was unable to control his own urges around her. Often fucking her wherever the moment took him. Proudly displaying her openly, his impending prodigy evident on her frame. So beautiful that she was to see as he took her for anyone who dared to look. 

“Amore…you smell so delicious.” Copia hummed, licking along the line of her neck. Celeste, instantly coming undone, trembling against him.  

“Will you have me now? So close to the end?” she asked, glancing down at her belly. Copia said nothing, only turning her back around to face out to the world once more. Leaning her against the rail as he gathered up her dress in his hands. The black fabric, like layers of petals as he pulled them away one by one until he reached her core. 

“I will have you every moment of every day if I could. You belong to me.” he moaned, rutting himself against her ass as he kissed her once more. Celeste smiled wide, her eyes closed as she allowed him to continue. Excited and already wet with the mere thought of him taking her. She no longer could deny that she wanted him. 

Copia dropped his hands, taking hold of his cock in his hands and stroking himself. His eyes fixed on Celeste’s aching cunt as he slid two fingers from his other hand inside it. It was so easy for him, after all it had been months since she’d worn underwear. Always needing to be ready to accept her lover’s seed whenever he wished to give it. 

“Oh fuck!” Celeste cried as his fingers teased around her entrance. Tantalizing her folds and barely entering her, just enough to taunt her with the need to be filled. 

“You love when I touch you, play you like an instrument. Spread you out with my fingers to get you ready for my cock, don't you?” he grunted before licking his lips. 

“Mmm…uh!” Celeste groaned, her eyes widening as he had stopped stroking himself long enough to grab a fist full of her hair. Pulling her head back to face him—forcing her to look him in the eye. 

“I said, don’t you?” he asked again, Celeste knew there would not be a third time. She moaned as she nodded, fucking herself on his fingers. Pushing against them until Copia mercifully let them slip all the way inside. Pressing the spot he knew would send her on edge.

“Yes Papa! Copia. I need you inside me. Fuck me…make me yourself in front of the world. Copia released her hair, Celeste arching her back to allow his fingers more access. The sounds of her wet cunt sliding over them, had proven too much for him. Copia withdrew, sucking them into his mouth and savoring the taste of her fluids mixing with the lingering wine. 

Finally, he granted her wish, rubbing the head of his cock against the swollen lips of her cunt. Both of them, becoming slack jawed as the tip slid deep inside her. Spreading her out slowly before Copia drew back only to quickly thrust inside her again. "So perfect for me. So wet for me. Your body made to pleasure mine, and mine yours." He groaned. 

Celeste couldn't speak. She was hazy with desire and lust. Gone was the girl who raged against their coupling. Now she was a mess of moaning and panting. Teary eyed as he fucked her with full fervor, so completely full of him inside. The pressure building up between them was delicious and warm. She began to tremble as he pounded away. Hearing her own heart beating fast, the sound of it drowning out the rest of the world. Suddenly it felt as if she were in a vacuum. All the air sucked out of the world and her vision—all black. 

Then it hit, images and visions rushing before her like the slides of film. Pieces and fragments familiar but still not fully realized. There was fire, the smell of smoke overwhelming her senses, making it hard to breathe. Then came the screaming—so much screaming. The intense sound of a trumpet blaring from the sky as the sun covered in blackness and the moon turned to blood. Celeste could see herself sitting upon a throne. Made of bone and thorns, the sounds of howling and screaming mixing together in a horrid song. She was covered in blood and donning the red dress from the first time she met her Prince of Hell. 

“What?” she asked aloud, coming to for only a moment before she felt Copia release deep inside her. She got quiet, saying nothing as he slipped himself out, limp and spent, from her messy cunt and rested his head upon her back. 

“Amore.” Copia called, catching Celeste’s attention back to him. He could tell she was somewhere else and there was now something else for them to deal with.  

“Yes, my–my love.” She said breathy and weak. Copia lifted up and came to stand beside her, slowly releasing the grip on the folds of fabric he once held. Taking her chin in his hand, he directed her to look out over the yard. Her gaze, creeping up the grounds. Taking in the haunting beauty of it, until her eyes met with the front gate. 

Gigantic and spellbound. It was truly a sight to behold, effective in keeping them safe inside and others out. It took her a moment before she could see a familiar figure standing just on the other side. Her heart stopped as she began to feel again the horror from her vision—unable to breathe. Copia turned her back to face him as he let out an amused chuckle. 

“Seems we have company.”

Notes:

Basilica Papale di San Pietro- St. Peter's Basilica Dio, Ti preghiamo di mostrarci misericordia mentre combattiamo contro l'impuro e l'antidivino.- God please show us mercy as we battle against the unclean and the anti-divine. Yahweh- Name for God

[ficandkaboodle]

Before his plastic surgery, you and Copia had to hurry and do the Sexually Repressed Royal Having an Affair with the Sinister Cardinal roleplay you’d talked about earlier. And yes: There is corruption kink involved.

[jessicafangirl]

Building A Mystery

Here it is kids, my Vampire Volkarin fic, chapter 1. Life and the universe kept me from getting this one up sooner than I would like but I hope you enjoy this first glimpse into Mystery and Emmrich's tale. You can also read here on AO3

Let me know what you think kids.

Mystery Ingellvar AKA Rook and Emmrich Volkarin found each other at the end of the world. Together they stopped this from happening along with their team. After defeating the Elven Gods, the heroes of the Veilguard now keep watch from the Lighthouse and fight to keep evil from returning to the realm. During one of these battles Rook is nearly killed and Emmrich realizes that even though he gave up Lichdom to save Manfred he now has left himself nearly powerless to keep the woman he loves safe. Emmrich leaves the Lighthouse and Mystery to find a solution which will change their lives forever.

Okay let's get one thing straight. I LOVE Emmrich. He's everything. Peter Cushing, Vincent Price, Cardinal Copia, and any and all silver foxes I've loved all rolled into one. He deserves all the love.

Anyway, now that I've got that out of the way, my other love is vampires. And to me it makes sense that Emmrich would decide if Lichdom was off the table he'd figure out a way to make this a goal and make it work. Love makes us do funny things.

We may or may not have an appearance of a pale elf some of you may know here or at least be mentioned.

Mystery is the name I figured out for my Rook after I made her. It fits for an orphan left on a pile of skeletons in the realm of the dead don't you think? Myst is in her 40s (so Emmrich is still a little older) but she's just as much of a wallflower who didn't really interact that much with people until she ran into Varric a few years ago. He saw her talents and her knowledge and decided, yeah that'll do. That meeting opened up a world to her she'd only read about in history books and novellas.

Instead of being around people and adventuring around, she had spent her time amongst the dead reading, training. She'd never ran into Emmrich but when she does finally meet him it's like one of those elegant heroes from the books she read all her life had stepped out of the pages for her.

So that's a little background for you. Give me all your angst baby. I'm here for the tasty angst.

______________________________________________________________

Emmrich was gone.

That was what Rook woke up to when she’d come round. Emmrich was gone and no one knew where to. She’d nearly died…again. At least in the Fade she couldn’t die, no matter how hellish it was while trapped there. She’d actually just disappeared and not been almost skewered by a well-placed blade by an undead warrior with really good luck. At least until Taash had roasted his undead flesh off his bones. The blade had just missed her heart.

Rook’s blue eyes were hazy as she came to, everything hurting. Her first word was his name. But Emmrich didn’t answer her. Instead Lucanis came to stand beside her, taking her hand in his gloved one. “Shhh, it’s okay. You need to rest.” His softly accented voice wrapped around her.

Rook didn’t want to rest; she wanted to know where her Necromancer was. But she didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter as the dark was pulling her back down again. She thought she heard Manfred’s familiar hiss as she slipped away, Lucanis telling the skeleton “I know, but we can’t bother her with that now.”

The next time she came round it was to daylight streaming through a window somewhere nearby. She had no idea how long she’d been out, but her dreams had seemed very real. More like memories…but she was seemingly watching it all take place from somewhere other than her body. The fight…that was first….the smell of blood and corrupted dead flesh. There was a scent to the undead who were brought back with dark magic…it wasn’t clean…it was foul. Not even the usual smell of a typical corpse, something Rook was used to thanks to her time in the Mourn Watch and the Necropolis.

No, the corrupted dead were beyond normal rot. It was as if the evil that had beget them permeated everything, even maggots wouldn’t feed from them. If some did, they’d die from the tainted feast, falling off them limp and lifeless.

The battle hadn’t been a long one. The mage who had decided to try their luck at the powerful forces needed didn’t realize just how much they had taken on in their bid to take over the city. It had wound up destroying them…too much infernal magic. The mage had died spectacularly in a ball of their own fire leaving a number of undead to deal with before the city was overwhelmed.

Rook saw in her mind’s eye how elegant Emmrich had been, his hands graceful as the green energy that he had flowing through him shot out and brought a final, merciful end to many of the creatures. He’d call out a “Well done my love.” When she’d take down their foes and she’d shout back when he’d do the same “Dashing and dangerous my dear.” Rook swore she could see the blush on his pale cheeks when she’d done that.

She’d been surprised. That’s what had happened. She’d taken care of the two undead she’d been fighting but a third had been in hiding. The pain had been quick, breathtakingly intense and then more concerningly gone and replaced by a chilling cold that spread through her quickly. Rook felt the blade pulled out from her chest and from far away heard Emmrich’s tortured cry of “Noooooo!”

She’d fallen to her knees and was oddly calm when she looked up at the moving cadavers face, red flames in place of eyes. This was it…I’m so sorry Emmrich….it’s my fault. I’m so sorry. It repeated over and over in her head. But before the creature could deliver a final blow it was ripped away from her in a blast of green. The undead was thrown with such force at a brick wall on the other side of the plaza that it exploded in a shower of gore, blood, and bone.

Rook had seen it and watched in numbed awe and disgust combined. It was impressive but not pleasant to look at. Her eyelids were so heavy then and it hurt to breathe. The blood was staining her shirt under the thin armor and the cold was now stretching from her chest out through her arms and legs. The blood was warm though…it was taking her warmth with it as it steadily left her. “oh….”

The wave of dizziness made her world spin and then Emmrich was there, kneeling beside her, catching her and pulling her into his arms. The scents of lilac and sweet incense met her nose, washing away the scents of decay. “My darling.” She heard his gentle voice, the words that sounded so brittle against her ear trembling. “My love you must hold on…stay with me Rook…you must stay with me.”

“Emmrich…” She heard herself as if far away, “I’m sorry…didn’t see them.” Rook had pressed her cheek against his warm chest, the heat of him radiating through the soft silk of his shirt. He always smelled so good….she’d miss that.

He’d held her so tightly for a moment, she’d heard a choked sob trying to be kept at bay in his long throat. “Shh…I need…I need you to stay awake my Mystery.” He pulled away just enough to start working the clasps of her armor. He had to see the damage; he had to fix this now. The rest of the battle was nearly done, he could hear the clashing of weapons, the sounds of other magic being launched at their foes. Emmrich could hear the distant panting of Lucanis who had followed him as he ran to where they were to keep watch while he tended to her.

She remembered the pull of the armor against her wound, the hiss of pain as the Necromancer pulled it away. His green and gold flecked eyes had widened at the sight. “My love….” He’d whispered the words, as though he didn’t realize they were said out loud. Her shirt was stained red from her blood, the injury deep. He’d immediately started crafting healing magic to stop the damage, the bleeding.

She’d been hurt bad, and Rook knew it, could feel it, could see it in Emmrich’s tortured expression. The familiar tingling, the slight burn of the magic leaking into her skin made her hiss. The fact it hurt this bad was another sign of the severity of the wound. Rook had blacked out then, her eyes too heavy to keep open any longer. The next time she came to some half-wakened state it was to darkness. Things were blurry, her vison unclear. There was a numbness to her body, like a limb when you’ve slept too long on it. The feeling spread out from her chest to her toes and fingers. And seemingly her brain as she couldn’t make out details in the gloom. But then there was a flare of green fire, familiar in the near black of the room.

“Emmrich….” Her voice was unfamiliar to her ears, weak, barely a whisper. Just that word took all her strength…but it was a word worth the sacrifice, worth any sacrifice. And then he was there beside her, the green fire surrounding his fingers like ghostly flames of jade.

When her heavy eyes met his she saw in their depths fear, sorrow, exhaustion but a determination no other could have matched. “I am here my love.” He said, the lilt of his voice reaching her ears like a caress. “You must save your strength. Do not talk dearest.” His hands hovered over her heart, above the wound in her chest. He spoke an incantation of healing, the dialect actually unfamiliar to her…or maybe she was simply too still in shock to recognize it.

The thrum of magic rippled over her skin and through her and with it a feeling that she could only say was Emmrich. In that magic that came from within him she felt his love, his strength and will to mend her wounds, to make her whole again. The scent of lilac and bergamot filled her nostrils. She could almost hear his voice now in her head “I will not lose you my love. I will not let you go. We’ve been through too much for you to leave me now. I’ve only just found you. I cannot lose you. I will not lose you.”

The heat from the magic entering her spread throughout her entire body. It felt like comfort and Mystery could feel it pulling her back down into sleep. The glow of green faded then and she heard Emmrich let out an exhausted sob as he fell to his knees next to the mattress.

No…no Emmrich shouldn’t be crying. Never. She couldn’t bear the thought. Rook reached out her fingers and let them thread into his silver laced hair. “I love you…don’t…cry.” She managed to say even though the words sounded far away to her ears.

At this he raised his head in surprise, his fingers clasping hers tightly, the gold of his rings still warm from the residual magic. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, his mustache tickling her skin. “I…I love you my Mystery.” Rook heard him take a ragged breath as he pressed her fingers against his cheek. Even in her stupor of a state she could feel the stubble of a beard starting to form. Emmrich’s control had returned, Rook could sense it in the way he straightened his back as he placed another kiss to her fingers. “You must rest. Let my magic do its work dearest heart. Do not fight the pull of sleep, let it in and dream of our home.”

Rook didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to stay with him, but she saw a soft glow of green light where their hands were clasped together, and a warm wave of sleepiness started taking over her. “Want…to stay…with you.” Rook said drowsily, her eyelids so heavy.

“You will darling…you will.” She heard Emmrich say from far away. Rook felt something slip onto her ring finger then, still warm from the green fire. “This I vow my love.” Sleep took her then.

She vaguely remembered opening her eyes the next time to a familiar chamber, now no longer shrouded in darkness. There were walls of books surrounding her, beautiful and filling the air with the scents of old paper and leather…the perfume of knowledge she’d named it and Emmrich had smiled so lovely at the phrase one night while they had been researching a ceremony to remove a haunting.

He’d kissed her without a word suddenly after she’d said it. Rook had been happily surprised by the action. “What was that for?” She’d asked him, grinning like a school girl with the biggest crush.

“Because you have a beautiful turn of phrase my dearest…and I could not resist the temptation of the lips that could conjure such lovely prose.” The Necromancer had replied, his ring covered fingers lightly caressing her cheek as he smiled down at her.

She’d shook her head at the thought such a man who could craft such elegant flattery would think she was the one with the knack for phrasing. Emmrich’s voice and his own way with words was one of her weaknesses. With the way the firelight had caught his eyes and glinted in the lovely silver streaking his hair, blazing within the gold of his rings and bracelets she decided she wanted to plunder the treasure that was her necromancer.

He’d noticed the way her eyes had darkened, the blue depths sapphire, her lips turning up in a smile that meant dastardly thoughts had entered her head. “My love…what are you plotting?” He’d asked, cheeks flushing and the question only slightly breathy.

She’d pushed him to the settee, and he’d fallen back against the cushions, still graceful though surprised. Rook remembered draping herself over him and the poor man was trapped. “We…we…really should be exploring…” She’d gotten at least two buttons undone on his shirt at that point and her mouth had found his throat, as did her teeth. The sound he’d made was probably supposed to be a word, but she’d been hard pressed to figure out which one. And she’d had other things on her mind like the rest of the buttons.

A quick intake of air “Exploring….ways…to…” he tried again. Emmrich was a determined sort that was true. But so was Rook. Half the buttons now and she started peppering his chest with kisses, her cheek rubbing against the graying hair that covered the center above his heart. “stop….” He managed to gasp out.

She remembered lifting her gaze to his, seeing his green eyes nearly closed, the color so dark she could barely see where the pupils ended and the green began. Her fingers ran along his side, sliding to his hip. “Did you say you want me to stop?” She’d asked, one brow raised.

He’d had one very short look of panic cross his face. “Don’t…don’t stop.” He’d practically begged. “Never…stop.” He’d then pulled her up to where she was literally sprawled on top of him and held her face in his bejeweled fingers. “Never…” He’d said and then kissed her fully, taking her breath away along with his own.

The memory was sweet. One of a treasure trove that had managed to outweigh the bad she’d collected so many of in her life. The scales were getting more even all thanks to a man who could make the dead speak and her life sing.

But he wasn’t here right now. The room was missing what made it truly special, made it home. She sat up, wincing just slightly at the pull on her injuries and sore muscles. She was healed for the most part. She moved aside the long silken shift that covered her to look down at where the blade had pierced her.

It had been worse than she imagined it or remembered clearly. There was an angry scar marring her pale skin, just to the side of her heart. This was evidence of how close she’d came to dying…the fact Emmrich’s healing magic, something he was powerful in, had not been able to leave her unmarked. How long had she been unconscious? Where was Emmrich?

Brain still hazy from the ordeal and just coming round, Rook pulled her shift back into place and slowly swung her legs off the bed. The sheets, the pillow cases smelled like him. The cologne he wore that held the scents of lilacs and bergamot. There was a hint of incense too. All of this was Emmrich, and it calmed her slowly growing anxiety a bit.

Rook glanced down, feeling something unfamiliar on her left hand. There now was a golden ring, sigils of protection carved into the band with a stunning pale green emerald. In the light the green matched Emmrich’s magic almost perfectly, as though he’d given her a piece of himself that could always be with her. She ran a finger over the stone, tears pricking her eyes.

She went to stand and nearly stumbled, her muscles not used to the motion. Rook grasped hold of the wooden column of the bed nearest her letting out a gasp as there was still pain in her chest. The movement of her arm pulled the still tender muscles and freshly healed flesh.

A familiar hiss from across the room met her ears and Manfred’s skeletal visage appeared quickly following it. The sweet spirit gently took hold of her arm to keep her steady.

“Thank you…Manfred.” Rook managed to say, her throat dry and raspy.

Manfred settled her back on the bed to sit with her feet on the floor. After a few more hisses and gestures, Rook took the hint she was supposed to stay there while Emmrich’s favorite student headed off. He returned a minute or two later followed by Davrin looking relieved and worried in equal measure. It was a strange combination.

“Rook…how are you feeling?” The Warden’s kind eyes studied her.

“Sore…and thirsty.” She looked up at him.

Davrin saw how pale she was. There didn’t seem to be a fever though, just exhaustion showing in her blue gaze. He moved to a table nearby and poured some water into a cup, bringing it over to her. “Drink this slowly. You’ve been out for a while.”

After a few sips she kept hold of the cup, grasping it in her hands tightly to try and keep her fingers from trembling. Her voice she wasn’t so successful with. “How long is a while?”

Davrin glanced away. “On and off for about eight days.” He answered her.

Rook gasped at that. Eight days. She’d been more damaged than she thought. Emmrich had to have been exhausted.

“Where’s Emmrich? Sleeping I hope?” she asked, taking another drink.

Davrin didn’t answer her, and Rook noticed. “Davrin…where’s Emmrich?” Her voice was hushed to her own ears.

The warden turned, his eyes not able to meet hers still. “He left two days ago…when he knew you were going to be okay.”

As if knowing he’d waited to make sure she was alright would make his absence better. Where did he leave to though? “What happened, why did he leave?” Rook’s voice hitched up, a strange feeling running up her spine. Emmrich wouldn’t just leave. He wouldn’t just leave her…at least she didn’t think he would.

Davrin leaned against the bottom left post of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “None of us knew he was going until Manfred walked into the main all carrying two letters on a tray like a butler. One was addressed to the team and the other’s for you.”

He pulled an envelope from his tunic’s pocket, one that was familiar to Rook from Emmrich’s desk. They were from his best stationery, the pieces he used for his most important correspondence. Davrin slipped it into her shaking hand.

He quickly glanced away, pursing his lips. “Honestly, I hadn’t seen him in a state like that before. I should have known something was up.”

Rook’s blue eyes stared at the envelope in her hand like it was the most poisonous spider she’d ever seen. She placed the cup of water on the bedside table as though the weight of the envelope needed both hands to keep it in her grasp. “What sort of state Davrin?” she asked him in a hushed whisper.

Davrin was reconsidering being the one to bring her the letter and the news. “The closest I can compare is when you were lost to the fade. He looked haggard. Haunted as though he hadn’t slept since you were brought back here. I know the amount of healing he had to do worked on him but…it was more than that.”

Rook closed her eyes and fought back a sob, her breath hitching. “What did your letter say?”

The warden sighed. “He told us he had to go away for a while and to ensure you were taken care of until his return, Manfred as well. He had a personal quest to follow. He didn’t leave any more details.”

Rook was in shock. He’d left Manfred behind? She felt her face grow visibly paler, her heart beat speeding up in anxiety, a creeping feeling of dread growing up along her spine. Her muscles winced as she felt a tremor pull at her still healing wound.

Davrin didn’t want to leave her alone, but he had a feeling whatever was in the letter would be better read privately. The warden moved away from the post of the bed. “I’ll go check in with Lucanis on getting you something to eat. Manfred won’t leave your side no matter what we tried so we’ve been taking shifts with him.”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes distant. “Thank you Davrin…thank everyone.”

He gave her a nod, placing a large hand on her shoulder with far more gentle care than anyone would expect and then left.

Mystery’s fingers shook as she stared down at the envelope. Delaying this wouldn’t do any good but she couldn’t stop the scenarios in her head. His loss of lichdom had finally come home to him and he couldn’t stand seeing her, the one that had talked him into saving his skeleton of a son instead. He couldn’t deal with how needy she was. He’d realized he could do so much better than she.

The old doubts could come so fast, return so quickly that it made it hard to breathe for a few seconds as they strangled her. Her own parents hadn’t wanted her…why would the most handsome, most magical man she’d ever met still want her around?

As if knowing her thoughts the ring on her finger grew warm. In a trick of the light she thought she saw the stone glowing. He’d not part with something like this if he were tossing her aside, leaving her behind, would he? Mystery ran shaking fingers through her short blonde hair, twirling the single braid nervously around her finger. Emmrich would do the same thing sometimes before they would head into a dangerous situation, his thumb stroking it with a sweet smile “For luck.” He’d say, then press his lips to her hair.

She felt a single tear hit her cheek and she wiped it away taking a shaky breath. “Get it over with Myst, just do it.” She told herself.

The envelope opened easily as she carefully pulled the green wax seal that held the shape of a skull away. The pages were thick, and she held them to her nose for a moment, catching the scent of the lotion he used, the fragrance of lilac and some herbal mixture that would always linger when he touched her. Mystery unfolded the pages and there in Emmrich’s beautiful, precise handwriting was his message to her. She took a deep breath and began reading.

My beloved Mystery,

I’ll be gone by the time you read these words. I would not have left your side if I didn’t know for certain my healing spells worked and you would be well. Nor would I have left you without knowing you’d be in the safest, most trustworthy hands of our friends, our family as they’ve grown to be.

What I’m doing and where I’m going is too dangerous to risk you or Manfred. And while the danger is great the reward shall be a way of ensuring your safety and my ability to keep you safe. To ensure we are together always my darling.

I will never regret choosing Manfred’s return to us over lichdom. Our little family fills my heart with joy and wonder every day. But this latest near loss of you, so close to losing you my beloved, has shown me that I must find a way to keep you safe and to protect you. A way to ensure I am there to fulfill the promise of my vow. My dearest heart, I believe I have found a way to do this and perhaps give me what lichdom could as well in some ways. While you recovered I planned, I worked, and drank more than my share of Lucanis’s strongest coffee. I don’t know if I’ll be able to recover from so much of that brew.

My Mystery, it is the hardest thing I’ve had to do, leaving your side like a thief in the night. But know that I will return to you as soon as I’m able. When I do, I may be changed, and I hope I am. But in your eyes and in my heart know that I’m the same man who loves you more than life itself and whose life truly began when you found him.

Forgive me for leaving you like this, but I know if I had told you I was going I would not have been able to resist if you had asked me to stay. I can deny you nothing my darling, but this separation will be worth it in the end. And I will then be by your side forever more.

Yours always and with love, E.

Mystery reread it three times before it finally hit her that he’d left because of her, just not in the way she had worried about. Now it was a whole other level of fear and sadness that took over her thoughts and guilt. Oh Maker, the guilt that fell over her. Her stupid and careless mistake that had nearly cost her her life had taken away one of her reasons for living.

“Oh Emmrich…” She felt the tears come then in earnest. There was no stopping these. The vagueness of the letter wasn’t helping. What had he gone to do that was so dangerous he wouldn’t allow her and Manfred to go with him? He’d been right, she would have made him stay somehow.

She heard a soft hiss come from behind her and Manfred appeared holding one of Emmrich’s embroidered handkerchiefs. “Rook…ssssad.” He said and she could do nothing but shake her head and take the piece of cloth.

Of course it too smelled like him as she wiped at her eyes. “Yes Manfred, I’m sad.” She managed to say. She needed to pull herself together even if her heart was shattering into a million pieces of worry, guilt, and pain. Manfred needed someone to keep an eye on him, to keep him on his path of studies. She had her other obligations for keeping the realm safe as one of the heroes of the Veil Guard.

Mystery still didn’t know quite how all this happened, how her life had gotten to where it now was. It was so much. All of it. But Emmrich was always there, or at least he had been, to keep her grounded. Emmrich with the sweetest words, the most skilled fingers, and kisses that could melt a slab of iron with the heat they could contain. Her Necromancer was all prim and proper etiquette for the world to see, but when it was just the two of them, particularly during the moon lit hours, another side would emerge.

Emmrich Volkarin had a hunger within him that was directed at her. It wanted to consume her. Those words filled with charm and politeness would disappear as those magical fingers would pull at the buttons keeping her shirt on and her flesh from his touch. That smooth, honey voice would grow lower and would start muttering phrases that would make her cheeks burn even now just remembering it. “My Mystery,” he’d say, “I shall take my time solving you. But tonight I will uncover all I can, taste every part that is you until I have my fill.”

His mouth would find her neck first, his mustache tickling her skin while his tongue ran along her pulse, tasting her as he’d promised. His teeth would suckle then, leaving her gasping as he marked her, the first of many such brands he’d leave all over her.

In the morning she’d ask him to place a glamor on the ones visible just so they weren’t flaunting themselves too much and he’d sigh and grumpily do so. “Not all of them my dear, I feel I’ve earned the right to remain for you to remember.” He’d say after a wave of green magic settled over her skin erasing the little purple marks.

Mystery would shake her head and smile, kissing his chin and giving it a quick nip. “As if I could forget.”

She couldn’t keep thinking about those nights, these memories. She’d just crumple onto the floor and Manfred was right there hovering and making tiny little erratic, nervous noises. Rook gripped the handkerchief tightly and sat up straighter, turning to the gem eyed skeleton. “Manfred, Emmrich has gone on a trip, but that doesn’t mean you are getting out of your lessons.”

Manfred nodded. “Left…with Rook.” He said.

She gave a watery smile. “Yes, he left you with me. So tomorrow we will start on your lessons, okay?”

“OK” The skeleton replied, seemingly feeling better about things.

Rook found it so strange how you could tell when Manfred was smiling when he was literally a skull. But she could at this point. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good…I think I need to take a nap for a while, why don’t you go back to reading the tome for tomorrow’s lesson?”

Manfred nodded and headed back to his chair and the book that was still there. Rook watched as he picked it up and started his studying again. Mystery placed the letter on the bedside table and then curled up in the bed only wincing a little at the pain in her chest. That pain was nothing compared to what she now felt but hopefully it would all heal in time.

She only hoped that Emmrich would let her know he was okay or better yet be back sooner than later. Any other outcomes she wouldn’t let take root in her mind or heart.