I've been writing fanfiction for a while, and some re-uploads of old works may be cringey or odd. I'll usually state in notes before the work whether or not it's a re-upload.
I am an adult, but no smut will be posted here.
I will NOT write for proships and comships.
Please feel free to request anything!! I can't guarantee I'll respond, but I love getting requests.
Cardinal Copia has taken over the Ghost project which has lead to all the previous Papa's to harass him about finding his own Vampire Bride. It must be some weird requirement that Sister never bothered to mention… While he has his eye on a shy Novitiate it takes a change meeting for him to consider attempting any thoughts of romance.
AN: @how-masterful look! Its your very later birthday fic! Enjoy some Dracopia
Warnings: vampires
Word count: 1696
Clinking and clanging of forks and plates created a background rumble that made Copia salivate. Even after his life had ended the busy sounds of humans eating still prompted him to grow hungry himself. Gulping down the cold, coagulated blood from his wine glass with a shudder to sate his appetite. Scowling down at the fancy crystal glass goblet as if it was the sole cause of the unpleasantness of old blood. Swallowing down the whines that he wanted to release was much easier than stomaching the blood. It was his own fault that he was facing this abomination. Refusing to pick a new, warm Sibling of Sin to feed from after the last one had fainted from him taking too much. Punishing himself for putting the flock in danger with his insatiety. Even though it was a self inflicted punishment he found himself cursing himself for his decision. It wasn't as if he had killed the poor woman, why was he forcing himself to suffer so. Callous thoughts alone enough of a reminder why he bothered to punish himself.
Jumping at the touch of a cold hand against his shoulder. Deathly chilling even through the many layers of his cassock. Had there been any remaining blood in Copia's glass it would have spilled over. Glaring up at Terzo as he leaned over him with an air of superiority. It was almost best that he had been surprised. Copia would have shattered the glass if he had to watch Terzo saunter over as his smug grin suggested he had done. Rich smell of Terzo's perfume- which he favored for the sweeter scent it offered over colone- making Copia dizzy. Overpowering.
It smelled sickly floral, like a grandmother's house. Copia told Terzo as much while shoving him off from his perch leaning overtop of him. If Terzo was going to bother him he would do so fully standing. He refused to be a prop for Terzo to lean on as he both annoyed him and likely seduced some Sibling sitting in the distance with eye contact alone.
"You simply have no tastes Cardinal," Terzo retorted against his claims of matronhood, plucking the glass from Copia's grasp. Dramatically gagging at the lingering smell of the blood left smeared on the sides. "As I said, no tastes. This is awful. You really should pick a new feeder. Or better yet, finally pick a Bride who can find willing prey for you. A pretty face would do wonders for your blood donations."
Scoffing Copia rolled his eyes. It was the fifth time one of the Emeritus brothers had bothered him this month about finding himself a Bride. Considering that normally he would have all of three conversations with any of them within a given month- it was getting irritating. Of course, taking over the Ghost project had increased their interest in him. Where he once could go unnoticed by them, now they were hyper focused on him.
The continued insistence on finding a Bride was suspicious. It must be important for some form of Ritual, or maybe they just didn't want to risk him finding a fan too enticing on tour. Either way the pressure was not helping matters.
"Copia," Terzo sounded just as sick of the constant Bride nonsense as he did. "I- of all people- would not be harassing you about this if it was not important. Just pick a pretty Novitiate, there are plenty of them this year, and be done with it. You don't even have to like them that much!"
"Unlike you Terzo, I do not want to pick the first pretty face I see."
Steeling himself to resist looking over at the new Novitiate that had captured his attention this year. It never worked out for him to try and court a new addition to the Ministry. Rumors about him paired with his awkward nature ensuring his failure. Many of such rumors started by Terzo himself. Poor attempts to tease Copia similar to how Terzo dared to tease Secondo. No, no matter how cute the new Novitiate was he could not get attached… Eyes flicking over to her table where she was shyly hiding her face as she giggled at something someone else had said.
"Shame, it does make it so much easier," he teased, gracefully ignoring Copia's distant glaces over at the table in the distance.
Fixing Terzo with another unamused looks- which he seemed immune to. Even if he was thankful for the small mercy Terzo was showing him. Then again, his eyes were glued to a different table in the distance where he blew a drawn out kiss to. Three Siblings all scrambling to act as if they had caught it.
"If I am to have a Bride," Copia bothered to explain himself. "I want them to be a partner in more than name. While such an arrangement may work for you, it would not for me."
"They you might try talking to the pretty bird who has captured your attention- don't deny it. Talk to her!"
Terzo sauntered off without allowing Copia a change to protest, leaving him with only the option to flip him off as he walked away. The subtle return of his gesture behind his back gave Copia the suspicion that Terzo did in fact have eyes in the back of his stupid head.
Copia had not expected to run- fortunately not literally- into his sweet Novitiate during his walk back from the practice room. He wouldn't have noticed her at all- hidden in an alcove as she was- had it not been for the heavy smell of fresh blood. The delectable aroma enticed him to stop instead of continuing on his way with the assumption that it was a meeting fabricated by Terzo to push him into action.
"Sorella?"
Softly speaking so as to not startle her too much. The poor dear so nervous about whatever was going on that she still jumped at his interruption.
"Oh, Cardinal. I'm sorry."
Bewildered Copia felt his mustache twitching with his attempts to hold back his smile.
"What ever is there for you to be sorry for?"
Stepping closer Copia caught sight of the sliver pin held in her hand, the pin covered in droplets of her blood that also formed alluring beads on the pad of her finger. Ah, she had pricked herself trying to put it on. Looking mindlessly at the droplets that glimmered like diamonds long enough that she grew nervous and began to ramble. Struggling to listen and ignore temptation.
"I don't really understand why but I know we aren't supposed to be wandering around without our pins on as Novitiate. But I had just forgotten to put it on- I hadn't planned on walking out of the dormitories even though I brought it just in case, and I-"
Grateful for his thick gloves Copia cut her frantic words off by taking the pin and carefully pinning the silver grucifix near her left shirt collar. Shivering all the same at the supernatural tingles that touching silver even through his thick leather gloves inspired. Body recognizing the threat it provided.
It was a precaution to provide all new Novitiates pure silver pins to wear, a natural repellent against all of the Vampires in the Clergy. Once sworn into a full Siblings of Sin they were no longer required, as by then they had learned about Vampires in full and would know the risks of consenting to being fed from. A combination of both visual symbol of their rank and a protection against danger. Placing it near her neck to deter himself if he managed to forget himself and attempt to feed from her.
"Let's see the damage you have done to your poor fingers," he teased.
"Oh, you don't have to-" her protests dying as he carefully lifted her hand up. "Thank you."
Unable to resist sampling her with a gentle kiss, tongue subtlety licking away the droplet of life essence. Pure, unfiltered her blossoming on his taste buds. Salty taste inspiring his appetite to grow. Such a sample a mistake, how could he resist her now? The coagulants in his saliva from his venom halting the blood flow. Naturally sealing shut the superficial laceration. No longer did her blood pool on the pad of her finger, instead rushing to flush her cheeks.
"All better, si?" His voice thick with blood lust and desire.
"Si," her whisper picked up by his sensitive ears while she looked thoroughly flustered.
"Shall I escort you back to your dormitory," trailing off with an open invitation if she felt bold enough to grasp it.
"Yes please, Cardinal."
Hooking their arms together for the short stroll back to the dormitory wing of the building. Rather pleased that she had at least accepted him as an escort. Taking the opportunity presented to inquire about her experiences so far within the Ministry. Grateful that she seemed invested in her classes. If she stayed there was a chance to convince her to give him a chance.
That nightly stroll was far from their last. His Novitiate giving him several opportunities to befriend her, to know her, to grow even more invested in her. They spend nights walking the gardens together, days working side by side- him on Clergy paperwork and her on her studies. The time spent together far more valuable than the brief taste of her blood he had been allowed. His crush growing into a much more intimate obsessive infatuation.
She had made several small indications that she was interested. Touching him more frequently, laughing at his stupid jokes, even on a rare occurrence daring to flirt overtly with him. He knew that she would be his Bride. When he dared to ask her, to drain her and feed her drops of his own blood.
Soon. Very soon. She would be his for eternity.
Gently leaving "A Guide to Vampire Brides" in front of her dormitory door. Knocking softly before fleeing down the hall. She was a quick read, it would not take long for her to ask him about the book with his name written in red on the inside cover.
t. trick or treat for secondo ahain pretty pleaseee i want to kiss his stupid face slash prank his stupid face
heads!
-
“kiss attack!” you cry before pouncing into Secondo’s lap. his office chair goes skidding across the floor under your weight, smoking into the back wall, but neither of you are paying much attention; you’re too preoccupied by the dozens upon dozens of small pecks you’re currently peppering the man’s face with.
his hands settle on your waist, pulling you close to him even as he tries in vain to pull his face away from your reach. Secondo laughs, a deep, gravely sound that reverberates through your body. his paint doesn’t taste the best on your lips and tongue but you don’t mind it so much— you’re used to such things by now as the partner of an Emeritus brother.
finally he fights to the surface under the onslaught, one of his palms coming up to cup your cheek. he guides you gently backwards, ending the assault. his eyes crinkle in a smile as he looks up at you, thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.
“to what do I owe the pleasure, my dove?”
you grin down at him.
“nothing in particular. you’ve just been working for a while.”
“and you wanted attention, I see,” he hums. “I may have to return the favor.”
you got heads! here's you helping her braid her hair.
-
gathering the silky strands of white together in your hands, you momentarily brush through them with just your fingers. it’s obvious Primo takes good care of her hair, devoting time and attention to conditioning it and making sure she’s not splitting her ends when she brushes it.
with her back to you, you have difficulty reading her expression, but you think she’s enjoying the feeling of your hands on her. at the very least, she’s sitting still for you with her eyes closed, a level of trust that you’re not going to squander.
“okay, so first, you’re going to separate it into three parts,” you say, pulling out your comb to do just that. you tease the mass of her hair into the separate parts you need, careful not to snag on the stands.
“then, cross the left part over the middle one.”
Primo blinks her eyes open so that she can look into the array of mirrors you’ve set up that will allow her to watch the process and learn how to do this for herself. you go slow, mentioning what you’re doing at every step of the way, and she’s an attentive student.
his arm around your waist draws you close as the two of you waltz under the moonlight. the silver moon is high in the sky, bathing everything in its pale glow and casting your partner with an ethereal gilded edge to him— you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than Perpetua at night. it’s like he was born to be seen in shadow.
turning carefully with you in his arms, he smiles as he notices you staring.
“see something you like?” Perpetua asks, his voice light and teasing. you flush but don’t break your stare, memorizing the way his mask looks in this lighting, the way that his paints stand out in stark contrast to the rest of his skin.
you’re not the only couple on the dance floor, of course, the gala the Ministry is throwing a bustling, elegant affair, but you may as well be. the two of you only have eyes for each other, unable to look away from the most beautiful person there that night.
you adore him. and you can see in his eyes, green and white, that the feeling is mutual: his hand hovers against your lower back as Perpetua dips you into a deep kiss.
SENDING IN ANOTHER!! SORRY HEHEH .. TRICK OR TREATTT blinks at secondo blinks at secondo blinks at secondo
also this is actually my first halloween :DD parents are uber-christian but now that im 18 they can't stop me >:3 I'm gonna go as a satyr!!!
5 heads!!! what is happening!!
also, congrats on being able to celebrate! I love that costume idea and you're going to have a ball <3
-
“would you like a taste of my whiskey?” he asks and you blink at him. it isn’t often that Secondo offers to let you taste his expensive alcohol. you have a stash of your own that he’s gifted you over the years and normally, the two of you stick with your respective drinks.
but if he’s offering, there’s no reason to say no.
“sure,” you say, setting your own wine glass down on the table. Secondo gestures for you to come into his lap and you realize within a few moments that this is not simply going to be you taking a sip from his cup. he holds you in his arms as he raises the whiskey glass to his lips.
then, he leans forward to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss. it steals your breath away as you yield to him, opening up like the petals of a flower. the moment your lips part, he passes the mouthful of whiskey over to you and it warms your palate, the burn of the alcohol second to the cigar smoke on his breath.
you’re dizzy by the time he pulls away, a smirk across his features.
TRICK OR TREAT !!!!! >:D errrm no angst pretty please I have a weak heart .. perpetua 👽
4 heads in a row! the coin is generous today! have a La Creatura moment.
-
La Creatura loves your scent. you know this— he’s sniffing you every chance he gets, burying his face in the scent point at your neck when he comes up behind you. his arms wrap around your waist to hold you in place as he does so, making sure you can’t get away before he’s had his fill.
it’s sweet. you know it makes him feel safe to be surrounded by your smell, as evidenced by the blanket nests atop your bed that he builds when its time for him to head to bed. you’ve gotten used to being tucked into his arms like a teddy bear as he burrows into the nest, surrounded by something that is uniquely ‘you’.
so you ask him once what you smell like. what is it about your scent that seems to bring him such comfort?
La Creatura stares at you for a moment after the question, seemingly thoughtful. eventually he speaks, voice rasping as he answers your question.
“not seen sunlight. smell like it. like morning.”
he nuzzles against the top of your head, dragging his own scent points over your hair. mixing the two of you together until he’s surrounded once more by the comfort of you.
Heads- you get a treat! Here's Papa V hand-feeding you some candy~
-
the crinkle of the candy wrapper against the floor makes you automatically open your mouth, ready for the sweetness of the chocolate on your tongue. you can hear the smile on his face as Perpetua hums, his fingers lingering around your mouth as he sets the piece of candy inside.
leaning your face to the side, you nuzzle your cheek into his palm.
“it’s so good,” you whisper, and you both know you aren’t only talking about the chocolate. though that too is wonderful, the expensive sweet bursting with just a little hint of sea salt that contrasts with the saccharine nature of the candy.
warmth blooms in your chest. you love when you’re together like this, as though you’re the only two people in the world.
you’re referring to the way he cradles you in his lap, your chest pillowed against his own, his arm wrapped around your waist as the other one unwraps yet another bit of chocolate. there’s a whole box to go through and you sense that he’s determined to let you try every variety before he lets you out of his lap, which suits you just fine—
there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than here with your Papa, after all.
his gloved hand comes up to cradle your cheek and you melt in his grasp, feeling the softness of the leather like butter against your skin. Copia takes good care of his gloves, oiling them often and storing them in a box when he’s not wearing them, and the result is some of the softest fabric you’ve ever felt.
when his lips land against yours, it feels just as soft— feather-light, as though he’s afraid that he’ll hurt you if he presses too hard. you’re not as fragile as he thinks, but you like to let him treat you as though you are. like he’s handling something precious.
the warmth of his breath ghosts against your lips as Copia pulls away for a moment, blinking down at you with a lazy smile. you return it with one of your own, nuzzling against the hand still resting against your face.
“what, is that it?” you ask teasingly, and hear him give a quiet chuckle. you’re close enough that you can feel his lips move against you as he speaks.
“of course not. but you must forgive me, for wanting to look at you. you captivate me, amore mio.”
stepping back into the rooms you share with Perpetua feels like stepping outside in to the gardens— as you open the door to your chambers, you bite back a gasp at the sight before you. every available surface is covered in flowers, every empty corner filled with bursting blossoms and colorful petals.
it’s like he’s bought out an entire flower shop. you see gardenias and jasmine perfuming the air among baby’s breath and roses in every shade. every bouquet is either planted in a crystal vase or tied with a ribbon and set so that the flowers are the first things you see when you look over them.
in the middle of it all is the man himself, standing there with yet more flowers in his hands, a single black rose tucked behind his ear. as you step through the door, he offers you the bouquet he’s holding: lilies and roses and wisteria drip from his palms.
“all of this pales in comparison to you,” Perpetua murmurs in your ear and you wonder how he can make such corny lines sound so absolutely sinful. he purrs the words, twisting them into something at once decadent and depraved, and you know this is just the beginning of your night together.
Trick 👹 or treat 🍫 !!! (dressed as Papa V Perpetua but wearing a chicken costume)
heads! a treat for you, my friend!
-
you’d heard the mewling before you entered the room but you’re still not prepared for what you find when you turn the doorknob and open the door: V’s on the floor with a small pile of kittens. they’re all different colors, tumbling over each other as they chase the ribbon he’s dragging across the floor for them, and its hard to count their number when they’re constantly moving like this.
he looks up at you, hesitating for a moment. you wonder if he’s considering his reputation as sexy, handsome, fearsome Papa and comparing it to what he’s doing now— before he smiles, offering the ribbon to you.
“do you want to play with them? they have so much energy,” Perpetua enthuses and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing the toy. lowering to the floor beside him, you begin to pull it back and forth and watch the kittens race to try and catch it.
“where did they come from?”
“some of the sound guys found them behind the speakers. they’re looking for momma cat right now.”
“I see…”
he smiles at you, reaching down to scoop one up into his hand. Perpetua holds it up to your cheek and you feel a tiny sand-paper tongue lick over your skin.
batpetua cradled close to you by being nestled in your scarf as he relaxes and enjoys the comfort of being surrounded by your scent and warmth. the soft taps on your keyboard and the rustle of pages turning, mixed with your rhythmic breathing, soon lull him to sleep. even as a bat he presses himself impossibly close to you, you're sure his little heart-shaped nose must be leaving an indent as it twitches against your skin and soft chirps escape him with each exhale. you're content to let him nap, he gives the papacy his all and spreads himself too thin as it is.
you work quietly so as not to disturb his rest and after a couple of hours you feel his wings shift, little licks against your skin are letting you know he's awake now. slowly unwrapping him you can't help but let out a small laugh at his half-lidded eyes gazing up at you. a little yawn escapes him and you tease him about it as you carefully scoop him up to bring him close to your face. you softly nuzzle his fuzzy belly as he lets out little chitters and clicks while stretching out his wings. you know he must be feeling a lot better when you feel his tiny fangs playfully bite your cheek.
Cardinal Copia, in his little bat cape, sneaking up behind his partner to spook them, and he springs forward and wraps the cape around them in a bat hug and probably yells GOTCHA!
Touch starved reader who subconsciously leans into Copia's hands whenever he "casually" touches them. They don't realize how much they've needed another humans touch until they come in with a new hair cut and Copia makes a big deal of fluffing it and running his fingers through it, gushing about how cute the style looks on them, eventually letting his hands cup their face and they've absolutely melted into his touches. Eyes fluttering closed and little groan/whimper sneaking out and Copia doesn't mind one bit. And maybe the day gets derailed a little because he just spends hours with their head in his lap, running his hands through their hair and up and down their back, silently chuckling to himself at the way they arch into his touch like a cat, but he doesn't care because it's just so cute and relaxing for both of them.
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Humans AU - Yes, And
Okay so this is all @textsfromhannibal 's fault but --
In a world where vampires can keep humans as pets, one specific Emeritus brother, vaguely disgusted by his twin's sudden descent into the madness of his newly-acquired human companion, finds himself at the mercy of the Human Distribution System.
Vampire!Perpetua x Human Female OC
Contains same general keyword warnings as her first fic in sequence (teased here!) Petplay, Vampire feeding, monster/human power dynamics, let's not worry so much about the ethical implications of a vampire keeping a human as a pet if she's into it, D/S sort of if you tilt your head and squint? It's made up don't worry about it.
---
His brother is a fool.
Perpetua has suspected this for a while now. Half a century at least.
His twin is a sentimental buffoon, chronically ridiculous, who frequently acts like he just crawled out of the grave and still misses the sun. Freshly-turned, with the stink of human on him, rather than what they truly are. Perpetua doesn’t miss the sun at all, for the sun has always been unforgiving, a trait shared with his darling brother. He is a creature born to the night, for the night.
And he is not sentimental.
When Copia turned up with his new pet Human, Perpetua had been… bemused. Of course their kind needed humans to feed from, that was understood, but they had no need of keeping one as a pet. They’re calling it something different these days, but he knows what it really means. Of course there were all kinds of arrangements his kind have had with humanity all throughout time. Of course his brother would’ve found a pet that looks like a porcelain doll and gazes up at him with big, round eyes full of nauseating trust and saccharine adoration. Worship, one might even call it.
And while Perpetua can’t deny that there’s a part of him—buried deep, deep down, deeper than six feet under, hidden behind walls of carefully built stone and shields of ice—that might, theoretically, enjoy that kind of… worship, the truth is plain. He simply doesn’t have the time, or the energy, or moreover the interest in getting a pet.
Which is why the huddled figure in the sodden cardboard box by the side of the road one rainy night takes him completely by surprise.
Time—strictly speaking, his kind have unlimited time. Unless a stake finds his unbeating heart or the sunlight turns him to ashes, he’s got all the time in the world.
Energy, well… he’s not lacking in that, either. Rising at sundown, pushing the lid of his coffin open, risking a singe to dart to the en suite and apply his paints, fix his hair, straighten his mask. He can do it all without looking; always has, and he’s mapped out the contours of his own face through centuries of practice. Then, out on the town, sampling what’s offered, dancing and drinking, burying himself between a pair of warm thighs or in a hungry mouth. Life is good. Unlife is good. He doesn’t want more than that.
But interest…
Perpetua pulls his sleek black hearse to a stop along the curb and peers into the alleyway. There was movement there; he was sure of it. The yellow of the streetlights can’t reach back there, but his senses are keener than a human’s ever could be. He’s sure he saw something.
The rain is pouring down around the hearse. No longer flying at his windshield, it spatters in heavy, relentless droplets, too loud to hear anything beyond the immediate vicinity.
Perpetua narrows his eyes, though, and looks.
There–he knew it. There’s something in the alley, hiding under an absolutely pathetically inadequate shelter of what looks to be a refrigerator box. A figure, with frightened eyes, sitting as still as it can. Too big to be a dog. Human, definitely. Instinct makes him lower the passenger-side window. Instinct—that same strange force that compels him to hunt, to feast, to indulge. What is he doing?
“Come on,” he says, a bit annoyed. The world smells of rain and asphalt and the churned-up mess of alleyway leavings. Beer and piss and garbage. No human ought to be sleeping here.
He gestures again with his arm. He knows they saw him.
“Come on, get inside. Get out of the rain.”
Humans have instincts too, he knows. Instincts to avoid strange men in hearses offering them rides. Instincts to seek shelter, safety, self-preservation. And he could compel them, he knows he could. He’s very good at it. But he doesn’t need it, and that’s a fact, not an exaggeration. Even now, he can sense the tenor of the cowering human’s thoughts: Is this safe? Is he safe?
No, he wants to tell them. He is not safe. But not, perhaps, for the reasons this human might imagine.
This is getting ridiculous.
There’s rain coming into his car, and he’s watching this human fucking shiver, and he should just roll up the window and keep going, but instinct, that strange and unusual creature that slinks behind his skin, has other plans for him. Before he realizes what he’s even doing he’s out of the car, dark curls flattened almost instantly from the downpour, stalking with purposeful steps over to the figure in the cardboard box. The human cowers back from him, which he expects, but less than he anticipates.
“Look, do you want to be dry or—?”
Before he has the sentence out of his mouth he understands.
It’s a woman. Long dark hair of some indeterminate shade. Clothing tattered and soaking wet. Bare arms—did she not have a coat? Anything? Who would have left a human in this condition? It’s appalling.
She shifts again, biting back a wince that his unnatural hearing detects as loud as a scream, and his keen eyes dart down to the way she is sitting.
“Is it broken,” he asks, taking his voice down to a low, gentle purr—a soft tone for a frightened creature. “Or is it sprained?”
The human tries to answer him, but her teeth chatter too hard to get a word out. She shakes her head a little, but he doesn’t know if it's a refusal, or she genuinely doesn’t know. If it’s fear making her practically nonverbal, or pain, or something else. But her eyes… he can’t look away. And he’s very used to people responding to his eyes. They’re distinctive; they speak of a lineage that is undeniable, a status that’s absolute. History, legacy. Power.
But her eyes are warm and sweet and soft. Hopeful, behind the fear.
She looks up at him, and he is lost.
And it’s that, beyond all of the rest of this scene, that does him in. Without a thought, he scoops her up and cradles her close to his chest—and then, she does scream, and he feels horrible about hurting her, but it’s a necessary hurt, isn’t it? It must be; he runs back to his hearse with her and tells himself that it is.
Leaving her out here in the rain, poor broken thing, he can’t do it.
Interest, he thinks, as he settles her down in the passenger seat. The rain has already made the leather spattered with drops, but she’s worse off, and for once, he doesn’t care about the fucking leather seats. He needs blankets, something warm for her to drink. A hot shower. No—a hot bath. She shouldn’t be putting weight on an injury. Medical attention. She needs so many things. His mind is spinning. All thoughts of a night of debauchery and slaking his thirst forgotten.
Mostly forgotten.
Because when Perpetua gets into the driver’s side and shuts the door, when he reaches down to flick the heater to max and point the vents in the direction of his new, violently shivering passenger, a scent emerges from her shivering frame that’s better than anything he’s ever smelled before.
Warm cinnamon and spice. Sweet sugar, cut through with the sharp note of bourbon. She’s terrified of him; he can smell the fear on her, but beneath it is good, so fucking good. And as a plus, she hasn’t jumped out of his car back into the night.
Perpetua moves to reach for her seatbelt, and she tenses up.
“Just buckling you in,” he reassures her. “So you don’t go flying when I take the corners. All right?”
He watches her for a nod. Eventually, she gives it.
Warm pride fills him, strange and soft and incredibly disorienting. She listened to him. She responded to him. She’s intelligent, and she could learn to trust him, and he could train her, see what she looks like beneath all that wet, tangled hair and tattered clothing—
He needs to get it together.
Perpetua secures the seatbelt around her shivering form and checks the empty road unnecessarily before pulling away from the curb. The hearse is his baby. Half on-the-nose joke, half surprisingly useful vehicle. He makes a statement wherever he goes, and it’s a statement that precedes his actual arrival. The mask, and the mystery behind it. He’s learned a long time ago that building a story about himself is something that speaks louder than any real truth. No one would dare try to take his mask off; no one’s ever seen beneath it.
And the human is watching him as he drives. Injured foot stretched out, still and steady as she can keep it, uninjured one up on the seat. She wraps her arms around that leg and cowers against the door and watches him.
When he takes a turn a little too fast, and her leg moves, the little cry she makes just about makes him want to turn and drive right off the cliff. What is happening to him?
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s… okay…”
It’s through his preternatural senses that Perpetua manages to avoid crashing the hearse into one of the ancient oaks that lines the drive up to the manor. That, and the reminder that he would survive it, but the car—and more importantly, his passenger—would not.
“Why were you in the alley all alone?” he asks. “What happened?”
He’s pressed too hard, though, and he knows it. She reverts back to silence, but it’s not quite as fear-shrouded as before.
“Sorry.”
Unholy Father, he’s apologized twice in one minute. Perpetua had been planning on being well into his third neck and fifth body by now. Instead he’s thinking about safe driving and coaxing a human to eat from his hand eventually. He’s going insane. Is this what happened to Copia?
“We’re almost home,” he tells her. And then, because he apparently can’t stop himself, can’t maintain the mysterious, aloof, playful facade when a human woman who looks as sweet and scared and vulnerable as her is sitting in his car: “I’ll keep you safe. It’s going to be okay.”
But safe is an illusion, and he is the last monster that anyone should be relied upon for such a promise. But, Belial, for her, he wants to try. And that’s the most frightening thing of all.
trying to get into the flow of writing so here is a TINY PRACTICE FIC 💥‼️
Rats — Copia x Reader
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Warnings: mentioned animal sickness, nothing particularly romantic except for a stated relationship. also I am not a good writer!!! lol!
I like rats I wish I could have rats. I am unfortunately allergic and their claws make my skin swell and burn :( but they're so cute
"Another rat??"
From an outside perspective, the fact that Copia had uttered such words would be baffling. However, this had become a somewhat common event ever since he fell in love with a fellow rat owner.
"I know, I know—" You set the cardboard box on the table, flopping onto a chair with a sigh. "But she was the only one left in the shop!! They would've sold her without any friend!! And her ear, look, it's got this weird rash, I wanted to fix her up!"
Soft sniffing and scratching noises came from within the box, and you opened up the top flaps, holding out your hand for the pup to climb onto your sleeve. "Look, Cardi, isn't she so cute?"
As usual, as soon as he got a look at the rodent, all of his worries were forgotten. He let her sniff his fingers, cooing gently, before scooping the little rat into his hands.
"Oh, dear... look at the color... like a chestnut," he gasped, fawning over the rat while she clambered up his sweatshirt.
A small tote box would make do for a quarantine, and you set up a spare water bottle, some feed, and some soft blankets and hides for her. Thankfully, the rats in the household were friendly and calm, and would likely accept the pup quickly.
"You know we'll have to spend money on her ear," Copia croaked, letting out a breathy laugh as the rat settled into his hoodie. "Cara, she's adorable, but—"
"I'll work on Monday!" You cut him off anxiously. You were nervous, but you had already prepared for this conversation. "I didn't have any plans anyways, and an extra day of pay would cover the expenses. It'd be worth it, and I'd be doing something other than laying around!"
Your words were met with silence, save for the soft sniffles of the rat pup currently taking a nap in Copia's hood. He sighed, intentionally being loud and dramatic.
"...As long as you don't come home tomorrow with another."
very humbly requesting perpetua x a shy or very neurodivergent reader lalalalala .. I don't mind if it's fluff or smut but if it is smut can you make him a Cuddly Creature
hope this is fluffy enough!
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you’re not one for crowds. the press of so many bodies around you makes you nervous, the feeling of eyes on you makes your skin itch, and talking to people you don’t know makes you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. it’s gotten even worse since you and Perpetua began officially dating— being known as Papa’s partner means that everyone wants to talk to you and all eyes are on you the second you enter the room.
managing to slink off to a quiet corner with a glass of wine and a sigh on your lips, you slip around one of the giant columns on the e edges of the room so that you’re not visible to most of the party-goers. you sigh, heavy with the knowledge that this is going to become your new normal for as long as you’re with Perpetua.
and you knew that going in, really. it’s worth all the attention on you to be with him and not have to hide your relationship. you just wish people were a lot less nosy about what goes on between the two of you.
someone steps up in front of you as you’re contemplating the swirl of your glass and you sigh inwardly, looking up at them with a barely-disguised scowl, ready to be polite but firm as you chase them away once more.
but instead of someone random, it’s Perpetua standing there with a smile on his face and a plate of small canapés in his hand.
“I brought you something to eat. I figured you wouldn’t want to brave the crowd around the table where they’re all lined up.”
“thank you,” you murmur, reaching out to grab what looks like a small cheese and berry tart. you pop it into your mouth, the flavors melding together on your tongue in a burst of deliciousness. Perpetua smiles at you and you must look pretty happy with your snack because he reaches out to cup your cheek, leaning in to press a peck to your lips.
“stop, what if you get your paint on me? I don’t want to have to walk around the party with your paint on my lips. then everyone will know we—“
“kissed?”
he sounds amused.
“so what? i’d like for them all to know. they already know we’re together, I don’t see the problem with them knowing what we’ve been doing. that way everyone will know you’re mine.”
you push lightly at his chest as he moves in to give you another kiss, giggling despite yourself.
it was always worth coming to these damn parties, since it meant more time with Perpetua. he was good at making you feel like the only person in the room, the only one that mattered.
