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gravehags · 4 months ago

Text

all vacant and waste

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

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

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

Words: 4,829

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

a/n: another lore fic but with bonus smut!! and family drama!! enjoy!!

~~~

When you awaken you’re surprised to see that it’s nearly noon.

Copia’s side of the bed is cold and you frown as you stretch and throw back the covers. Getting up, you pad to the kitchen, which is empty. You’re about to turn around and go get your phone when you spot a note on the counter written in a familiar decisive, loopy scrawl.

Amore,

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

Ciao xx,

Your shoulders sag in relief as your heart swells - how funny the two of you both slept so well after such a harrowing late night conversation. You wonder if his dreams were anything like yours. With a loud yawn, you stretch once more and head back into the bedroom to get ready. Copia told you to take your time but you don’t want to leave him waiting too long and besides, you’re eager to see his face. Your morning routine runs efficiently and you select a short thin-strapped yellow floral sundress to wear after opening your window and gauging the weather. Grabbing your phone, your purse, and your keys you head out and down the stairs. When you approach the hallway leading to the Papas’ kitchen you can hear loud arguing in Italian. Hesitantly, you approach the doorway and knock against the frame.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

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

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

You give Terzo a stern look and shove past him to go see the aforementioned Cardinale.

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

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

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

“Grazie mille, Secondo,” you say, “No tomatoes with the mozzarella and basil?”

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

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

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

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

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

“By the way,” you say as you walk side by side down the hall, “you look delicious today.”

Copia scoffs but his ears turn red all the same.

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

Now it’s your turn to go red but you still grin at him.

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

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

“Later, then,” you wink and the two of you cross the threshold to make your way to his car. It’s beautiful out, as you thought it would be, but as you slide into the passenger seat you clock thunderclouds on the horizon.

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

“I know a spot,” he smiles.

“Oh?” you turn towards him and rest your arm on the back of the seat, “Take all your girls here, huh?”

That makes him laugh out loud.

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

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

He smiles softly.

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

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

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

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

“Here we are,” he announces and you both step out. As you move further into the grass while Copia takes the basket out of the trunk, you note a picturesque stream weaving in between the large oak trees. You inhale deep - it’s been a while since you’ve been out in nature - and the myriad of scents and sounds refresh you.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, as he stands beside you. You nod and turn to take the blanket from him. You move closer to the water’s edge and spread it out, plopping down on the plush greenery. With a groan he takes a seat beside you and you begin doling out your meal. Your conversation is…lovely. Worlds away from the one you had in bed last night. You’re swapping childhood tales when you’re reminded of Secondo’s words from earlier.

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

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

“Oh no,” you say, covering your mouth, “Copia that’s awful!”

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

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

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

You tear into a piece of sourdough.

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

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

You feel a large, heavy drop land on the back of your hand, followed by another, and another. As the two of you were engrossed in conversation you hadn’t noticed the storm clouds rolling over your heads.

“Shit,” you sigh, “we better pack up.”

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

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

By the time you make it back to the car and open the door, throwing yourself inside, you’re soaked. Copia joins you a minute later and slams the door, panting.

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

He reaches down and pinches your thigh.

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

“Oh I’ve hurt your feelings,” you murmur, “let me make it up to you.”

It takes some finagling but you’re able to pull yourself up and swing your leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Signorina, in the backseat?”

You smile wickedly.

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle warmly and nod, pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck. When your teeth drag along the sensitive skin there you feel his cock kick against you.

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

You pause in your efforts to suck a mark into his throat and pull back.

“Always.” you breathe, flexing your hips against him, “Wanted you from the moment I met you.”

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

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

Copia’s mouth hangs open as you raise yourself onto your knees and position him at your entrance, impaling yourself upon him with agonizing slowness. When you finally have all of him encapsulated in your tight, wet heat, he moans and his hands slide under the hem of your dress as a prayer is pushed from his lips.

“Ave Sathanas.”

Your breath comes in little pants as you cup the side of his face and run your thumb along his sideburn.

“Ave Sathanas,” you murmur, “for giving me you.”

Gently you ease yourself off him and take him back in, your mouths sharing breath. You’re trembling as you set a rhythm, riding him with increasing force as you moan wantonly. Between the rain and your actions, the windows of the LeSabre have become steamy and it only reinforces the filthiness of your act.

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

Your laugh is breathy and borderline hysterical as you bounce on his cock.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you whisper, pressing your damp forehead to his, “I love you, I love you, I love you no matter what.”

You know your grip on him has to be borderline painful and when he reaches up to take your hands in his and press them to his lips, you sob.

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

You hiccup and nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him close. His hands roam your back, tracing patterns as you breathe in the faint orange blossom scent of what remains of his hair pomade. You’re not sure how long the two of you sit like this - until your thighs start to ache and long after he’s gone soft inside you - but when you finally pull apart the way he looks at you brings a small smile to your face.

“We uh,” you sniffle, inelegantly wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “we should probably get back.” Your words are punctuated with a full body shiver that has him tutting and easing you out of his lap.

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

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

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

“I know.”

He chuckles.

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

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

You try to muffle the shiver that shakes you but Copia’s sharp eyes have caught it and he’s fretting again as he starts the car.

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

The two of you look out the windshield. Or…try to. The glass is entirely fogged over from your activities and you let out a bark of laughter as Copia sighs heavily.

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

“On it.”

–

The two of you make it back to the abbey eventually, laughing as you run through the rain from the row of garages to the front door. When you step inside the marble entrance, it’s chilly and you grip Copia’s hand and start to drag him in the direction of your apartment.

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

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

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

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

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

“You have obligations, Cardinal.”

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

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

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

Copia gives your hand a squeeze and when you look at him with anxiety written all over your face, his brows furrow.

“Together,” he murmurs.

“Together,” you confirm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink back tears and with some surprise you realize she’s doing the same. You’ve never seen her so upset and judging by Copia’s face, neither has he.

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

A tense silence settles between the three of you.

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

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

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

“My…my father…?”

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

So Copia was right. You look over to him and his face is twisted in anguish, devastated to receive confirmation on what he suspected his whole life. You take his hand in both of yours and squeeze tight. Imperator’s gaze flicks between you both and she lets out a heavy sigh.

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

The weight in your stomach begins to lift and Copia looks over to you.

“You’ll respect my wishes, then?” you ask tentatively.

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

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

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

She nods, but she looks preoccupied with other thoughts.

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

“I eh, thought I had obligations?”

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

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

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

The two of you rise and Copia leaves but you stand in place looking at the woman before you.

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

“Hey,” you murmur, fingers reaching out to brush his side, “you okay?”

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

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

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

His shoulders shake in your embrace and for a heartbreaking moment you think he’s sobbing but when you pull away he’s got a grin on his face.

“Amore, you make me so brave,” he says, cupping your cheeks in his hands and placing a kiss on your forehead. You chuckle, putting your hands over his.

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

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

Chortling, he starts to walk down the hall and you loop your arm through his.

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

Copia stops and turns to you.

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

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

He smiles, nudging your chin with his thumb.

“Let’s go take a hot bath, huh?”

You groan.

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

“Which episode, though?”

“Antichrist’s choice tonight.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Manos.”

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

Copia stops in his tracks and you look at him innocently.

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

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

“I said ‘birichina mia’.”

“And what does that mean?”

He sighs.

“Eh, ‘my naughty little one’.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and you bite your lip while opening the door to your quarters.

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

Copia grins at you wickedly.

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

“Hmm I suppose I do,” you say airily, lifting the hem of your damp sundress over your head and tossing it onto the floor. Copia’s eyes go wide as you pinch at your pebbled nipples and he backs clumsily into the doorway of your bedroom.

“Well go on,” you purr, shimmying out of your underwear. “Get to it, Your Eminence.”

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

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

“Eh, yeah,” he sounds sheepish so you reach behind you to scratch his scalp soothingly.

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

He chuckles.

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

“Who knows,” you murmur, leaning back against him, “you might surprise yourself one day, hmm?”

#curator reader series #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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