#anyway these tags are getting long but I'm loving all of this

[jschlautism]

someone call the doctor now, i'm feelin' low

note: wouldn't be a fluff writer if i didn't make a sickfic

warnings/tags: schlatt is a big baby about being sick, established relationship, reader is gender neutral, emetophobia, alcoholism is mentioned, hurt/comfort, reader is shorter and younger than schlatt, schlatt doesn't really talk because he feels like garbo

word count: 1,049

Unfortunately, waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone retching on the other side of the wall was something you were used to by now, what with your boyfriend being an alcoholic. You tried to help him as best you could, but some days were just far too difficult for him to handle. Assuming that drinking was to blame, you rolled over with a huff and tried to go back to sleep. It was nothing John hadn’t dealt with before, he’d had this problem long before you two got together; you were sure he could handle himself. At least.. That’s what you thought, and that was what you were working off of until John re-entered the bedroom, practically whimpering with a weak voice. A quick pet name was all you had managed to catch him say. At that moment, you realized something was terribly wrong here. Sitting up in the bed quickly, you lay your eyes upon John, who, admittedly, looked worse for wear. He was trembling, his hair a mess, and what looked faint freckles visible on his cheeks, likely from the straining it takes to throw up.

John just stares at you as you begin to get up from the mattress, tossing the blankets aside. You approach him, looking up into those deep brown eyes that you loved so much. They were captivating, even now as he was at his worst. “What’s wrong, my sweet boy?” You ask with softness in your voice that only he ever got to hear, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. The older man simply leans into your touch, closing his eyes as he lets out a shaky breath. To you, that was further confirmation that there was a problem. “Come on bubba, speak to me, tell me what’s wrong..” You push again as you take his hand and begin to lead him to the bed. Even now, you still got butterflies holding his hands, simply because they were much larger than yours were. You bury those thoughts, focusing on him and making sure he’s okay.

He sits down on the mattress slowly, and the moment that he does, you place your wrist to his forehead; you already have a suspicion about what’s going on. Sure enough, when you pull your hand away, you can still feel the warmth on your wrist for just a moment. “J, honey, you’re burning up.. are you sick?” In response to your question, he just nods his head. He was always a big baby when he fell ill, and this time was clearly no exception. You let out a sigh and shake your head. Thinking for a bit, you decide to advise John to lay down and try to get some rest. He protests, but eventually he does give in and lays his head atop the pillows. Once he’s gotten settled in, you tell him you’ll be right back, and leave the room to get some things you think he may need.

You make your way into the kitchen, then retrieve a water bottle from the cabinet. You figure he probably needs water after whatever the hell he had just gone through. Filling the bottle with ice water, you stop and think for a moment. “Should probably get him a bucket or something just in case..” You mutter under your breath while you tightened the lid on the water bottle. Maneuvering around the kitchen, you begin to look for something that you could give him just to make sure he had cover on his way to the bathroom. Ultimately not really finding much, you decide on one of the spare dish pans and coat the inside with paper towels. It would have to be enough.. for now, at least. You can go to the store in the morning to get something else if you have to, but for the moment, you think this will work. He’s probably not too picky right now, anyways. Returning to the bedroom with the water bottle and dish pan in your grasp, you notice that John had actually managed to fall asleep. Sighing, you set the drink and the makeshift bucket on the bedside table, then take a good look at your sleeping beauty. He always looked so sweet when he was resting. You run a hand through his somewhat curly brown locks with a subtle frown on your face. “I really wish you felt better, J…” You whisper with furrowed brows.

Neither of you really got much sleep that night. With John being up and down vomiting, and you having to take care of him, there really wasn’t much opportunity to rest. Eventually, it got to a point where you both just gave up and decided to watch a movie. You let him pick, since he was the ‘poor baby’ of the situation, and he ended up picking Wall-E. In the middle of the movie, he turns his head to look at you. “Not to be a burden or anything, but.. Do you think you could maybe get me some crackers? I… I wanna at least try to eat somethin’...” He mumbles, then looks down at his lap, where his hands were resting. He fidgets with the blankets a bit. You pat him gently on the back and nod, getting up to head to the kitchen. Just as you were about to head back into the bedroom, you notice the bathroom light is on, and you hear the undeniable sound; your boyfriend retching once more. You set the pack of crackers down on the accent table in the hall and enter the bathroom, kneeling down beside the man. Placing a hand atop his back, you begin to rub careful circles into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, reassuring him every now and then with your soft words. It was disgusting, having to witness this, but you knew you had to be here for him; after all, he was always there for you. When he finally gets a moment of peace, he lifts his head and looks at you with what you could only describe as puppy dog eyes. He looked utterly pathetic, and all you wanted to do was make him feel better.

This was going to be a long week.

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 3: That’s Actually Very Unreasonable.

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Yay! Ch 3 is finally done! I pay Rugby and practice started up this week, which is a big reason this wasn't done a little bit sooner. But thank you to everyone for bearing with me and thank you SO MUCH for the support. I've received so many kind comments and messages, I'm so happy that I decided to actually finish and post this instead of letting it it in my google drive. Chapter 4 is coming, I'm not gonna promise when, but its on the way.

At the request of at least one person, I'm going to start a tag list in the replies of each chapter, lmk if you want to be added to that!

ALSO. Someone sent in a request and I am very excited about this. I wasn't planning on asking for requests, but I think it would be good for me to use those as a brain break from the main long form story. So if anyone is interested, feel free to send one shot or head canon requests my way! NSFW or SFW is fine! If you have questions, send an ask :) Anyways, I'll shut up now. Enjoy <3

Read on AO3

Waking up on Saturday was…difficult, to say the least.  After spending the summer mostly sober, save for the occasional drink with your dad or joint by yourself, your body was not prepared for the previous night's substance intake. You felt grimy when you came to in your bed. Your skin sticky from sweat, your mouth dryer than all hell, and your brain felt like it had been shaken in a jar. Laying there, face in your pillow, the pros and cons of climbing out of bed tumbled around your head.

You decided that if it was before noon, you’d allow yourself a few more hours of sleep, otherwise you had to get up. Blindly you stuck a hand onto the counter at the head of your bed, knocking things left out from last night around until you found your phone. The bright screen made your temple pulse when you clicked it on.

12:01.

You dropped your head and groaned into the pillow. A deal was a deal, though, even with yourself. You gave yourself grace as you sat up in bed, looking around your tiny double dorm room. Bright light shone around the edge of the blinds, making you squint. Clothes were still scattered around your side, your hightops dropped haphazardly on the floor, not far from your shorts. You had barely managed to piss, brush your teeth, and put on clean underwear before knocking out last night. You could still feel what little makeup you had on last night smeared around your eyes. All of your pre-made plans to hydrate and clean up before going to bed were abandoned as soon as you set foot into your room. 

Lest on the other hand, looked like a princess in her bed. Washed hair in two braids, fresh pjs on, and her trusty sleep mask covering her eyes. She even layed like a princess, flat on her back with her hands folded on her stomach. You envied her discipline for hygiene even when drunk. 

You slid out of bed. Bracing yourself on the frame with a groan when your stomach flipped. Lest didn’t even flinch, she slept both like a princess and a log. You left on the clothes you slept in, wrapped a towel around your waist, and gathered your shower bag. First order of business was to clean up, because even one more minute of feeling like you were covered in a film of alcohol and smoke and you were gonna peel your skin off. 

The shared hallway was aggressively bright, but fortunately empty. You were sure you couldn’t handle an awkward ‘on the way to the shower’ run in with a hallmate right now. You’d probably throw up on the carpet. Luckily on a well weathered first Saturday of the semester, the hall was virtually abandoned. Which also meant that the only single user bathroom on your side of the building was free.

You leaned heavily against the closed door, eyes screwed shut as you fought back the wave of nausea that came with your short walk. With your eyes closed you found the automatic light switch, pushing the button to shut the lights down. The frosted window let in just enough light to see without burning your eyes out. You hung up your things and started the shower, knowing it would take a while for it to warm up. 

You took that time to brush your teeth, sick of the grit that lined your mouth. When you saw yourself in the mirror you couldn't help but to cringe. You were a wreck. The makeup around your eyes was worse than you imagined, smeared completely around your eyes in an intense racoon mask. Your hair was half out of the scrunchie you had pulled it into on the way home, hanging awkwardly on your neck. As you brushed your teeth, you tilted your head at the borrowed shirt realizing something off about it. You frowned at it in the mirror, trying to make out what the writing said. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Metallica. You spit in the sink and set your toothbrush to the side before pulling the shirt over your head. It didn’t say Metallica, it said Mozart in the Metallica font. 

You snorted a laugh, “Jayce, what the fuck?” Folding the shirt up, you shoved it into your bag, hoping you'd remember to wash it with your laundry. When you caught a glimpse of your bare torso in the mirror, you froze. 

Memories of last night came flooding back as you stared at the red marks scattered across your body. An unsteady line of hickeys connected one hip bone to the other,  a few were splayed up across your stomach and in a cluster across your chest. There was even one framed by a perfect bite mark on the top of your shoulder. 

“God damn…” You muttered, turning in the mirror in search of more. While you didn’t find any more hickeys sucked into your skin, you did find thin bruises on the sides of both your thighs from his fingers digging into your flesh. 

You stepped closer to the mirror, ghosting your fingertips over the marks. You couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of his hands on you. You could still feel him against you, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. You gripped the edge of the sink, willing the thoughts away. It was a hookup with a stranger who’s name wasn’t even known to you. It wasn’t going to happen again. 

Despite that fact, you thought of him in the shower until the water ran cold.

-----

Lest was awake when you made it back to your room. In the time it took you to shower she had managed to get dressed, make both herself and you coffee and frozen breakfast sandwiches, clean up your side of the room, and get the first season of Love Island up on your TV. She was stirring creamer into her coffee when you came in.

“Goodmorning,” You said, locking your door behind you, “How long have you been up?”

“Like, 45 minutes,” She said, setting the creamer to the side for you, “Were you in the shower that whole time?”

“Er, yeah, sorry. I wanted to shave,” You lied, a little surprised at how long you had actually been gone. You hoped Lest wouldn’t notice that you definitely had not shaved.

You dressed quickly. You and Lest had never been shy about changing in front of each other, but right now you had yourself angled awkwardly against your closet, praying to god she didn’t catch a glimpse of the love bites you were sporting. Luckily you managed to pull on a tshirt and sweats without her noticing. It’s not like you needed to hide from her, you usually told her everything as soon as it happened, but this time you wanted to keep it to yourself. At least for a little bit. You knew she’d have something, probably valid, to say about the complete unknown of the man you had sex with. She’d scold you on how dangerous it was and drag you to the health center to get tested for an STD.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked as you made up your coffee.

“A little like I was hit by a truck,” You shrugged, putting the cream away in your tiny fridge, “But I’ve definitely felt worse. You?”

“Better than I thought I would,” Lest told you, starting the show, “I didn’t drink much towards the end, and I didn’t smoke at all so I guess it makes sense.”

“You’re lucky,” You joked, climbing into bed with your coffee and breakfast, “We’re still doing nothing today right?”

“Oh, for sure.” Lest said nodding with wide eyes, “This is probably the last weekend we’ll be able to actually push homework off. Everything can wait until tomorrow.”

“Works for me,” You nodded, sipping your coffee and tuning into the trashy reality show you and Lest were hooked on.

You realized pretty quickly that all the gorgeous men and women and unhealthy relationships in the world wouldn’t distract you enough. You had figured post your incredibly long shower you’d be free of Pretty Boy, that the memory of him would ebb away. No luck.

By the time Micheal had been cast out of the Villa, you had managed to replay last night's events a hundred times in your head. It wasn’t just the sex that you were hyper focused on, it was every second you were near him. You kept thinking about how he looked in the kitchen, the way the lights moved over his skin and hair. The fact that even in the dark his eyes were still so bright and warm. You could hear  the lilt of his accent in your head, all the words he said to you, all the things he called you. 

What really stuck with you was how soft it all had been. How gentle and kind he had been with you. The way his voice sounded when he asked if you were leaving. How much you wished you had said no. This was going to haunt you for at least a week, you knew it would. You were preparing for it to be a very hard and very unfocused week.

Lest called you out a few times during the lazy afternoon, questioning your mental absence from the shared room. You brushed her off with excuses of exhaustion and nausea. You could tell she was worried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. Eventually, not many hours after waking up, you let yourself fall asleep to the thought of his lips on yours.

-------

On Sunday you woke up well before the sun, thanks to your early bedtime. You stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself back to sleep, but as your room slowly turned from pitch black into grey tones you knew it wasn’t going to happen. Quietly you pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. It was barely even six by the time you were finished getting ready, but you were restless. Scribbling a note for Lest, you left your dorm. 

There was a time when you’d go on a walk before the sun was fully up every morning. It was when you enjoyed campus the most. The cold and quiet of it was comforting, it felt like home. Almost completely deserted at this hour. The only souls you ever saw this early were the landscapers, perfecting the small campus before the day began, and the occasional early rising professor walking a beloved campus dog. On a Sunday, though, it was truly empty. 

You wandered without really knowing where you were going, you let your feet remember the familiar path they once took so frequently. The sun barely peeked over the line of trees and brick buildings, casting long shadows over the quad. Dew grayed the grass, evaporating where the sun touched it. Eventually you reached the flower garden nestled between the two original buildings of the campus. You settled on a cold stone bench, the dedication plaque so worn it was nearly unreadable. 

You looked around the garden. The variety of flowers were in full bloom as the summer came to a close, each one tended to with great care. It was a sacred place on campus, for everyone. It was where most students had been introduced to the school, the garden being the meeting spot for all campus tours. During both matriculation and graduation, students paraded through it. The flowers were both a beautiful welcome and a bittersweet goodbye to those who chose Piltover for their education. It was impossible not to love it.

You sighed and picked at a patch of lichen on the edge of the bench. Remembering what else you used to do on these early walks, another habit you regretfully fell out of. You dragged your knees up to your chest and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket. Your fingers were on autopilot as they navigated to your contacts.

It rang only once.

“Good morning Buddy,” Your dad’s voice was warming even through the phone.

“Good morning,” You said, leaning your cheek against your knee, “How are you?”

“I’m good, just getting ready to head out on the boat,” You could hear him shuffling around as he spoke. You could picture him, preparing for the day in the kitchen, “How are you? You’re up pretty early.”

“Working on a Sunday? That’s unlike you,” You joked, it was actually very like him, “I fell asleep early last night, couldn't go back to bed.”

“No, actually, not working today,” You heard the front door of your house open and close, “I’m headed out with the guys. The weathers going to be good for some deep fishing, today.”

“Oh good, that’ll be nice. I hope the catch is good,” You were glad he was taking time for himself, “Send me pictures if you get anything cool.”

“Of course buddy,” He laughed, you heard his truck start up, “Wait, so you went to bed early on a Saturday night? When did you become so boring?”

You scoffed, “Excuse me, are you mad that I am a responsible adult?”

“That’s not what I said!” He assured you.

“Yeah sure,” You rolled your eyes but smiled anyways, “Besides, it was friday night that I was out until three in the morning, rest assured I am certainly not boring.”

“Hm, okay,” He was quiet for a moment, “You’re making good decisions, I hope? Staying safe.”

You groaned at the implications of his words, embarrassed that they weren't actually that far off. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Yes Dad, I am making perfectly fine decisions,” You half lied to him.

“Good to know. I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

“Ew,” You fake gagged, “Don’t say stuff like that.”

He laughed on the other end. It had been a week and a half since you saw him last, but you already missed the sound of him laughing, “How was your first week of classes?”

“Good,” You told him, “So far at least. I mean, it's the first week and I already have a good amount of homework to do, which sucks, but I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, you’ve got this, though,” He assured you, never not confident in your abilities, “You always do. What classes are you taking again?”

“I have two envi-sci classes right now, one with a lab, a chemistry class with a lab, and I’m taking an Asian American Lit class, to keep myself from going crazy in the science building.” You told him, thinking about your particularly heavy science schedule, “I’m trying to switch chemistry classes, though. There's a smaller class with a…better professor. Not that my current professor is bad, it’s just that Heimerdinger is, like, the best professor here. I’d like to take at least one class with him. I’m on the waiting list.”

“Sounds like a good schedule. I’m glad you're taking a non-science class, it’ll be good for your brain,” He told you, “And I’ll cross my fingers you get into that class you want.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You laughed, at this point you didn’t have much hope for getting in, but you could always try next semester.

“Hey, has your mom talked to you?” The question made you groan. 

“No, why?” You didn’t particularly want to talk to her, not since her 2nd remarriage last summer. 

“She called the other day and asked if she could have you for Christmas this year?” He was treading carefully, “I think you should.”

‘What? No way,” You answered immediately, offended at the idea that you would want to do that, “First of all, I’m not 15 anymore, neither of you get to have me, I can decide where I want to go for breaks. And second, Why would I want to spend break in Arizona with her child groom and his infant children?”

He was, clearly, not a child groom. Paul was 35, but in comparison to your mother’s age- 45- he might as well be a teenager. His kids weren’t infants either, 9 & 14, but, again, they might as well have been. 

“Hey, I know, I trust you to make your own decisions, but I also know that you’ve developed a lot of anger recently with your mom,” He sighed, “I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with her your whole life, it’s not healthy.”

“Really milking those two years of psychology undergrad, huh,” You joked bitterly. Your dad would have been the best therapist in the world if he had finished school. Your surprise arrival put an end to that half dream instantly. He never resented you for it. 

“I’m serious, buddy,” His voice was calm, urging you to be open, “It wouldn’t have to be for the whole break, just a couple days around Christmas. If you want to spend the rest of the time here with me you can, obviously. Just think about it?”

“Fine…I’ll think about it,” You pouted, he could convince you of anything, “But no promises.”

“Thank you, sorry for springing this on you right now.” You could hear chatter somewhere behind him, he was probably at the docks by now.

“It’s okay, sorry for being a brat about it,” You laughed softly.

“You’d be nothing without your attitude,” He teased, in the background you could hear someone calling his name.

“I get it from you,” That wasn’t entirely true, you and him both knew it, “But hey, I’ll let you go, sounds like you’re needed.”

“Yeah, the guys just showed up,” He admitted, “I can tell them to wait for a bit though if you want to keep talking?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” You insisted, checking the time, “I should probably go, anyways. Me and Lest are gonna go work on homework in a bit.”

“Okay, no problem,” He told you, you wished you could talk to him all day, you wished you were going fishing with him, “I’m proud of you, buddy, and I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Dad,” You said, trying to hold back tears, “Have fun out there, be safe.”

“Always am. Tell Lest I say hello for me, Love you.” He let you hang up the phone. 

You wrapped your arms around your legs and buried your head in your knees, unable to hold back the sobs. You let yourself cry. You didn’t think this was how you’d start your morning, but it was fine. Almost cathartic in a way, to let yourself be sad about something as childish as missing your dad who was only a day. You knew it was fine and very normal, but it still felt immature. Regardless, you let yourself cry until Lest finally texted you.

-------

The rest of the day was just as unexpected. When you headed back to your dorm Lest had just started to get ready. You laid in your bed, scrolling through your phone until she was ready. In the hour or so it took her to shower, get dressed, and gather her school work, the weather took a drastic change. You had wanted to lay out on the quad and do work, but the soft sunny sky was full of clouds now, all threatening rain. Instead, you and Lest headed to the small coffee shop on campus. Here it was much harder to focus. You camped out at a table in the corner, despite this everyone who knew you or her came over to chat. Meaning the amount of work you finished was…disappointing, to say the least. 

Then, due to the cafe's short Sunday hours, you had to relocate once again. At the overly polite requests of the baristas, you packed up and hauled off to the library. You wished you had come here in the first place. It was pretty much vacant this time of day and you and Lest set up in the quiet section, assuring no one would bother you even if they wanted to. Workflow was steady now, you managed to knock out one assignment after another. In the quiet of the library you were even able to focus on your textbook readings enough to take notes. 

As the afternoon began to turn to evening and the library began to fill up, you were finally in the home stretch. Lest was on her last set of practice questions for her math class and you had one more reading and a chemistry practice test to do. You’d probably be back to your room within the hour. You opened up the practice test, determined to get everything done. 

It was harder than you had expected. Some of the questions were fairly basic, things you knew from level one and even highschool chemistry, and there were a few that took a little effort but were fresh in your head from last semester. Almost half the questions, though, were questions that were completely foreign to you. You could make out bits and pieces of it in your brain. Some questions gently touched by your previous professors and others that you could make shaky assumptions on. You tried to remind yourself that this was a practice test for a reason, but the shitty score you knew would show at the end still bothered you. In the end you got 65%. 

You opened up your email to check for submission confirmation before moving on to the reading. A recent message at the top of the box made you pause. You read it quickly once, twice, three times. 

“I’m off the waitlist,” You told Lest, flinching when someone at a nearby table shushed you.

“What?” She whispered, leaning closer to see your laptop.

“I’m off the waitlist for chem,” You whispered back, opening up the class portal and accepting the offer.

“I thought you were in a chem class already?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, but I got into the class with the professor I actually want,” You explained, wishing you could be more excited than the setting allowed. 

“Oh, that's…good,” You could tell she didn’t quite get it, but wanted to be happy for you anyways.

“Yes, it’s very good,” You laughed, pushing your chair away from the table, “and as a reward, I’m gonna go piss.”

“Babe, please don’t give yourself a UTI because you only pee after academic success,” Lest jokingly begged, rubbing the space between her eyebrows.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you walked away from the table, ignoring the dirty looks from other tables. You were thrilled, a class with Heimerdinger genuinely opened up a world of connections. He knew scientists in every field all over the world. Of course, as the dean of the science department, he was willing to help any student make connections, but it was definitely easier if you were in his class. You were so happy about this, you didn’t mind that the practice test you just spent an hour on was for a class you were about to drop. 

You pulled out your phone, shooting off a text to your dad.

Got into the class I wanted! Thx 4 crossing ur fingers

He responded immediately.

Yay… that’s great, happy for you… wanna see the catch today?

You shook your head at the ellipses habit he refused to break. Such an old man.

TY!!! Yes obvi. Fish Now. 

He sent back a photo of himself and one of the older guys he fished with holding an impressively sized mahi mahi.

Omg mahi this late in the szn is craaazzyyy, very jealous

You couldn’t help the pang of sadness that bloomed in your chest. Missing your dad intensely for the second time that day.

Yeah, me and the guys were surprised for sure…I got go, talk to you later?

Oki!

Love you Buddy

Love u toooo

You slammed into someone in your distraction as you hit send. The apology coming out of your mouth only made it halfway, your mind and body freezing up at the flash of chestnut hair and pale skin above you. 

“Woah, watch it.” The guy, who you realized a second later was not in fact Pretty Boy, snapped at you.

“Sorry,” Your voice came out like a squeak, you cleared your throat, speaking louder, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s…uh it’s fine,” Not Pretty Boy said, looking down at you oddly, “Are you okay?”

You realized you were staring at him, studying all the ways in which he wasn’t Pretty Boy. Too stocky, face too round, hair too long, eyes a dull green. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine, sorry,” You shook your head, stepping past him as you apologized again.

You hurried off to the restroom, face burning as you locked yourself into a stall. You had managed to keep him out of your head all day. You dressed without looking at the marks he left behind, you kept your mind busy with work and thoughts of your family situation, you barely even acknowledged the fact that you had a body. 

And now after all that work, here you were, unable to think about anything besides him. You groaned and thumped your head against the stall door, knowing he’d be inescapable for the rest of the night. 

You stared at your hand on your leg, fingers digging into the bruises under your jeans. You had set your book down for the hundredth time, barely halfway through the reading, distracted again.  Every time you tried to read the words on the page, you wouldn’t get far. Unable to process any of the information you were looking at. It all felt like a different language. You could feel his hands pressing into your legs, his lips on your neck, accent in your ears.

Something hitting your forehead made you jump, startling you out of the daydream.

“Earth to struggling student,” Lest whispered, crumpling another sticky note and launching it at you.

You swatted the yellow paper away, frowning at her, “What?”

“Girl, where have you been this weekend?” Lest hissed, leaning across the table, eyebrows furrowed, “You’ve been weird ever since Jayce’s party. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You shrugged.

“Okay, liar,” She deadpanned, rolling her eyes, “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” You insisted, rifling the pages of your book. 

She stared at you, blink her big eyes expectantly. At this point, she wasn’t going to give up.

“I hooked up with someone at the party” You muttered, not looking at her.

“What?” She gasped, ignoring the looks from other tables. She stood and took the seat next to you, pulling her chair close and leaning in, “When?”

“When I went to wash my top in the garage,” You told her, chewing on your lip, “I wasn’t exactly smoking alone,”

“Oh my god!” She squeaked, eyes wide, “You fucked someone in Jayce and Cait’s garage??”

“Shhh,” You placed a palm over her mouth, worried about wandering ears, “Be quiet, I don’t need the whole student body to know.”

She just blinked at you over the top of your hand, waiting.

“Yeah, in the garage,” You could feel your face getting hot.

“Did you guys… like, get a home run? Or only make it to 3rd base?” She raised an eyebrow.

“What are you? 12?” You scoffed, glancing sideways as you told her, “...home run.”

“Good girl!” She punched you lightly on the arm, “Wait, that’s why you’ve been so spacy? You’ve been thinking about your little garage escapade all weekend?”

“Lest, you don't get it,” You insisted, “It was, like, amazing. Quite possibly the best sex I have ever had in my entire life. Like, honeymoon waited until marriage but somehow still perfect at it kind of sex.”

“No way,”

“Yes way, bitch,” You said, raising your eyebrows at her, “yes fucking way.”

“Damn…” She stared down at the table, then quirked her head to the side, “Who?”

There it was, the reason you hadn’t told her as soon as it happened.

“Um, well…” You hesitated. Lest narrowed her eyes at you, you could see her mind scrolling the list of possibilities. You cringed, “I don’t exactly know.”

Lest gaped at you, “What?”

“We were both high,” You admitted sheepishly, “And kind of caught up with other things. Names didn’t come up.”

“Are you crazy?”

“He was nice!” You defended, “Like, so fucking nice.”

“That is so dangerous!” She scolded, more concerned than mad, “Did you use a condom?”

“Christ, Lest, of course,” You rolled your eyes, “I’m not dumb.”

“I know, but you said you were high,” She shrugged, “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t need to find a way to squeeze a crib into our dorm.” 

“Twenties pregnancy is no joke,” You told Lest, trying to hold your face straight as long as you could before the corners of your mouth cracked upwards. 

“Damn, so great sex guy is anonymous,” She sighed, “That’s kind of a bummer. He goes here right?”

“He said he did,” You told her, “That’d be an odd thing to lie about, right?”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll see him at another party?” She said, hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe,” You sighed, “I don’t know, it was so good I almost don’t want to do it again.”

“That makes zero sense,” she scrunched her nose.

“I mean, I fucked this guy once for, like, an hour.” You explained, “And he is all I’ve been able to think about for the past two days. Do I really want to do this again?”

“Well, if you make it a habit,” She offered.

“I don’t know,” You sighed, shaking your head, “It sucks, but I think it’s better if it doesn't happen again. I don’t think my grades could handle it.” You waved the book you had tried and failed to read for the past hour. 

“Skill issue.” She shrugged, shutting her laptop, “Do you have to finish that reading tonight? I wanna get dinner.”

“Uh, thanks Lest, very cool,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at her joke, “And I’m not going to be able to anyways. I’ll finish it before class tomorrow.”

“Okay good,” Lest said, standing and stretching her arms over her head, “I’ll get us Thai if you promise details.”

“Hm, you know, I’m not against trading my secrets for pad thai and mango rice,” You laughed, packing your stuff up.

Clasping her hands together she determined, “This is, like, better than Love Island.” 

You just scoffed, shaking your head at her.

-------

As thrilled as you were to be taking Heimerdinger's class, there was one tiny drawback. It was your first and only seven am. You had managed four whole semesters of not having to be in a class until at least nine. That was very much on purpose, because dragging yourself out of bed at five in the morning was not your idea of a good start to the day. 

As much as you wanted to skip past your first alarm and show up to class unshowered and in sweatpants, you figured that wasn’t the most professional first impression to make on the dean. So you got up like a good student. You took your time getting ready and double checking that you had everything you’d need for your two classes of the day, preferring to not haul back to the dorm between them. You had correctly calculated enough time to stop at the cafe on the way to grab coffee with a higher caffeine content than what you could make in your room. 

There were quite a few seven am classes available, but given that you were over 30 minutes early, the halls of the science building were still fairly deserted. A few offices were lit up and some classrooms had TAs setting up for the day, but not much student presence yet. When you found the room the schedule had directed you to, you were pleased to see it was empty. It’d be easier to talk to who you considered the most intimidating professor on campus without an audience.

The classroom was small, but you knew the lab attached through a door at the back would be much bigger. Professor Heimerdinger was sitting behind the desk at the front, fidgeting with the desktop computer. You knocked on the doorframe to get his attention.

“Good morning Professor Heimerdinger,” You greeted, stepping partially into the room as you told him your name, “I was on the waitlist until last night, I wasn’t sure if they told you I had moved off of it.”

“Oh! Good morning, dear,” He beamed from under his impressively large mustache, moving away from the computer, “Yes, it was mentioned that there may be a change in the roster. I’m glad you were able to move up from the waitlist. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, you had never been in the same room as the esteemed man, only ever seen him give speeches or in passing around campus, you walked over to his desk, “I’m also glad to be here, I’ve been looking forward to taking one of your classes. I’ve heard great things.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” He walked around his desk and extended a hand up towards you. Due to his short stature you had to bend just slightly at the waist to return the gesture, “I’m glad to have you in class, your name is familiar. Are you acquaintances with Mr. Jayce Talis, by chance?”

You knew Jayce had been lucky enough to score Heimerdinger as his advisor and close mentor, you were surprised he had mentioned you, though.

“Yes, actually, Jayce is a very close friend of mine,” You told him, trying to hide a nervous laugh, “Has he been speaking of me?”

“Only good things, my dear,” He said, picking up on your anxiety, “I assure you.”

“Good to know,” You laugh, hoping it wasn’t too loud in the small space, “Thank you, again, I am really grateful for the opportunity to be in your class.”

“Well of course,” He told you, moving back around his desk as he spoke, “Have you been able to acquire the reading materials for the class?”

“I ordered the textbook last night,” You explained, “I should have it by the end of the week. I’m sure I can borrow a copy from a classmate for the time being.”

“No need, I have an extra copy you are welcome to use until yours arrives,” He pulled a dense book from under his desk, “It’s an earlier edition, though, so just be sure that you read the correct sections.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” You took the worn book, he also handed you a printed syllabus, “Was there reading for today? I could try to get some of it done before class starts.”

“Last week’s schedule became a little jumbled due to my being under the weather, so the first reading is due next class, if you would like to review the syllabus and schedule before class, you will be all caught up,” He explained. You couldn’t describe the relief this gave you, “We only met for one class last week, so you aren’t behind, but the class has already been divided into groups for the semester. I apologize that you were not here for the grouping. I allow students to choose who they work with, so if you see someone you know feel free to join their group.”

“Okay, thank you.” You nodded and turned to find a seat.

As Heimerdinger returned back to his computer, you set up in the corner of the room. The syllabus was fairly basic, but gave a good explanation of the Professor’s expectations. You were sure this wasn’t going to be an easy class, but you were also sure you’d enjoy the challenge. The only thing that was making you anxious was the fact that  none of the students that showed up were familiar to you. You watched as the clock ticked closer and closer to seven, your knee bouncing under the table. You tried to distract yourself by skimming through the borrowed textbook, settling on a random section to pass the time with.

You were halfway through the chapter about asymmetric oxidation and reduction when a newer copy of the book was dropped on the table in front of you with a bang. You jumped, looking up in surprise.

“Hey stranger,” Jinx smirked down at you, nodding at your book,“Pretty impressive reading pace you’ve got there.”

“Jinx!” You stood, wrapping your arms around her, “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Ekko is too, he’ll be here in a minute,” She told you as you settled into your seats, the room was busy now, “Were you on the waitlist?”

“Yeah, this class was a bitch to get into,” You frowned, then realized something, “Wait, how did you get in? You’re a sophomore this year right? This is an upperclassmen class.”

She laughed sheepishly, shrugging, “Ha, well you know, nepotism isn't always bad.”

“No way, Silco got you in? You lucky bitch,” You gasped, but were not surprised that her dad, who happened to be a well respected professor in the business program, had managed to get her into a higher level class. 

“Yeah, and Ekko,” She pulled the rest of her things from her bag, blowing a strand of freshly dyed blue hair out of her face, “You should have told me, I could have gotten you in, too.”

“Sorry, friend nepotism didn’t cross my mind,” You laughed, waving at Ekko as he walked into the room, “I’ll keep it in mind for next time, though.”

“Always got your back, babe,” Jinx gave an over exaggerated smile, all teeth.

Ekko slid into the seat next to Jinx, setting a coffee cup down in front of her, “Hey, where were you last week?” He laughed, extended a fist out for you to bump.

“Still on the waitlist,” You laughed, pulling out your things as other students began to settle into their seats.

“Glad you're here,” He told you, “You wanna be part of our group right?”

“Yes please,” You said with exaggerated begging,“I was worried I’d have to join people I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason I drag him into every class I take,” Jinx laughed, jerking her thumb over to Ekko.

“Yeah, I’m sure the fact that I always give you my notes has nothing to do with it,” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She stuck her nose up in the air, giving him a side eye.

You couldn’t help but to laugh at them, their large personalities combined to make one big ball of loud and colorful and smart. You had spent a lot of your free time during your summer research with them. Jinx had convinced you to join their little band and you three terrorized the others with very loud and not so great music playing. You were excited to be in class with them. Looking around, though, you noticed that all the other groups consisted of at least three people, some of them even holding five. 

“Are you guys a group of two?” You tilted your head, it would be odd for the Professor to let them do that in a class that seemed to be very group focused.

“What? Oh, no there’s three of us,” Ekko told you, “I don’t know if you’ve met him yet. It’s Jayce’s new roommate, Viktor. I don’t know why he isn’t here yet.”

You laughed, part of you still wondering if this was some insane joke that everyone was really really dedicated to, “Haven't met him, yet, but I’ve heard of him plenty of times.”

“Wasn’t he at the party on Friday?” Jinx asked, “He said Jayce had convinced him to go.”

“Jayce kept saying he was there, but I never ran into him,” You shrugged, “I’m still not convinced he’s real.”

“Yeah, you got us,” Jinx said, dead serious, “He isn’t real.”

“Wait what?” You side eyed her.

“Also we wrote gullible on the ceiling,” She rolled her eyes, you resisted the urge to look up, “Viktor is very real, I promise. He’s super smart too, like, almost as smart as me.”

“Always humble, babe,” Ekko said, patting Jinx on the arm, “Always humble.”

Class began then, Heimerdinger calling everyone's attention to the front of the room. You settled into the flow of it pretty quickly. You weren’t surprised that he managed to be an engaging professor. You’d sat through plenty of his speeches and presentations over the past two years, and never for a second did you find yourself bored during them. He gave a quick overview of what the next couple of weeks were going to look like and then passed around paper practice tests. You were a little disappointed to have to do another one.

This test ended up being somewhat easier than the one you had taken last night, only a few of the questions really escaped you. You could tell this was a test meant to gauge how much the class knew as opposed to how much they didn’t. You had just flipped to the last page when the door to the classroom opened. As much as you wanted to keep your eyes down and not contribute to the awkward stares you were sure everyone was already giving, instinct kicked in and you couldn't help but to glance up.

You froze.

There was no way.

This was not happening. 

You blinked a few times, mouth hanging open as you watched Pretty Boy lean over Heimerdinger's desk, speaking too quiet for you to hear with an apology written all over his face. Your heart dropped all the way down to the center of the earth, your lungs dried out and you felt like your head was under waves.

When Pretty Boy turned around, his perfect amber eyes immediately landed on yours. Freezing, his eyes widened slightly in an expression you were sure was identical to yours. Poorly hidden horror. You looked away, eyes dropping to your paper, the grip around your pencil was tight enough to turn your knuckles white. You could hear him walking straight for your table, cane tapping along with his footsteps.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the table. Why was he coming this way? There were plenty of other seats. Was now the time to confront you? In the quietest classroom imaginable. He slid into the seat next to you.

“Hey Viktor,” Jinx whispered, glancing up before going back to her test.

Viktor. He was Viktor. Pretty Boy was the roommate you were convinced didn’t exist. The one you had just told Jinx you had never met. The reality that you had, in fact, met him very intimately was crashing down around you. You raced back through your memory, all the little dots that you should have connected immediately snapped together. The music he was listening to, the smoking, that he was even in the garage in the first place, the reason you hadn’t recognized him despite being in your year, the fact that you never saw him leave the house. 

He fucking lived there. He was Jayce’s roommate. You had fucked Jayce’s roommate. 

You could feel his eyes on the side of your face as these thoughts ran through your head. You looked up at him, his closeness making you dizzy, but not in a pleasant way like last time. His face was nearly blank, only the slightest pull to his eyebrows that didn’t  give away any of his thoughts. You had never felt the desire to know what someone else was thinking, not really, not until this very moment. 

Not knowing what to do, you let out a shaky breath and went back to your paper. The room was too quiet to speak to him, you could do nothing but endure the remaining time it took for everyone to finish their tests and hope you didn’t faint.

You were keenly aware of his presence next to you. Everything was taken up by Pretty Boy. By Viktor. You could feel the heat of his leg close to yours, you could smell the cologne he was wearing. The scratching of his pen as he started the test was the only sound you could hear. You felt like you were going crazy. At this moment you were sure you could have been committed to a state hospital. The words on the page blurred in front of you. You scribbled out incorrect equations a dozen times before Hiemerdinger finally concluded that everyone was done. 

“I will review these and adjust our scheduled content accordingly,” He told the class as the tests were passed forward, “As an unplanned reward for enduring my data collection, please talk amongst yourselves while I battle with technology. I will begin today’s lesson as soon as possible.”

“Nice,” Jinx said to herself as chatter started up in the classroom, she turned to Pret- to Viktor, “Dude, where were you?”

“Sorry, I was stuck behind a school bus,” He told her, his accent was less thick than you remember, “it wasn’t a problem last week, I wasn’t prepared.”

“Oh, yeah, school just started this week for little kids,” She nodded, she was lost in thought for a moment, no doubt thinking about picking up Isha from school later. She snapped back to the present and told him your name, “She’s part of the larger group, I’m surprised you haven't met yet.”

His eyes met yours and when he said your name, you could have melted all the way to the ground floor, “It’s nice to meet you, are you…joining our group?”

It took you a moment to realize he was holding a hand out to you. You shook it, trying to be as firm as you could, but you knew your hands were shaking. 

“Nice to meet you, too, ” You said, “Um, I can find another group if you-”

“No,” He said, too quickly, “No, that’s not necessary, I’m glad to have you work with us.”

You did your best not to read into that, “Glad to be here.”

“Heimerdinger wanted us to schedule an out of class work time,” Ekko told you, drawing your attention away from Viktor’s face, “We were thinking Friday’s right after class, since we won’t have lab.”

“That works for me,” You nodded, trying to settle into your chair and be casual.

“Cool, I’ll send a calendar invite,” He said, always the proactive one.

“You are friends with Jayce?” Viktor asked, tilting his head at you.

“Yep,” You nodded awkwardly, unsure how to talk to him, “Since freshman year,”

“Hm, interesting.” He mused. 

You hated this. It was so uncomfortable and not at all like the last time you had spoken to him. Even aside from the fact that you weren’t fucking, the few words said were clunky and awkward. You were realizing that the drugs and alcohol you had consumed might have had something to do with the ease of conversation. It made you sad. You knew this was stupid. You knew you were being childish. You were an adult, sex shouldn’t be the cause of this unbearable awkwardness. You should be able to talk to someone you hooked up with, without being on the verge of a panic attack. Luckily, Heimerdinger’s technical difficulties came to an end. He drew back everyone's attention and put a halt to your terrible conversation. You turned away from Viktor, facing the front as the intro to advanced ochem lecture began. 

The rest of class, thankfully, went smoother than you expected. Your group fell into a good rhythm, working together between bouts of notes to work on practice problems. Viktor was less tense, which let you relax a degree. He was more than willing to help you navigate your textbook, looking over your shoulder to check that you were on the right section. He even helped you find the reading for next class, tearing a piece of paper from his notebook and placing it in the pages. There wasn’t a lab planned for the day, so Heimerdinger continued his lecture well into the scheduled lab time. By the end of the four hours, you had written down almost ten pages of notes. Your hands ached.

“Apologies for the lecture heavy class, everyone. Having to cancel our first class last week meant I needed to catch everyone up” Heimerdinger said as he closed out the presentation, “I promise from here on we will utilize the last two hours as lab time. Have a good rest of your day everyone, I will see you on Wednesday.”

You scooped your things into your bag and slung it over your shoulder, “I’ve gotta get to another class, see ya around.”

You darted out of the door before anyone could reply. Your head was filled with too many thoughts. You took the stairs down, doing your best to organize the mess in your brain. You created a list. First, the things you needed to do, right now. Finish the reading for Asian American Lit, number one. Number two, go to your Asian American Lit class. Then, the things that could wait until after. Telling Lest about Viktor/Pretty Boy dilemma. Though, she would be mad that you didn’t call her at that very moment. Asking Jinx to add you to the group chat, meaning you'd have his number. Yeah, that you could wait on. Then the things you decided could wait forever. Number one, talking to Viktor. It’s all you wanted to do. And at the same time you’d rather spontaneously combust than confront that awkward conversation. 

You were free of the overpowering AC of the science building for less than a minute before the task you decided never needed to happen, happened. Against your will, of course.

“Wait up!” Your steps faltered for a second at the sound of Viktor’s voice calling after you. You ignored him, continuing as if you hadn’t heard. He shouted your name, “I know you can hear me!”

You stopped staring at the hot sidewalk for a moment. No. You had somewhere to be, things to do. You shook your head without turning around and kept walking.

“If you take one more step, you’re ableist!” He shouted, out of breath.

You froze and turned slowly to look at him, jaw hanging open, “That is not funny.”

“Got you to stop didn’t it,” He panted, closing the distance between you, he knocked his cane against the side of your calf, “And, I do believe running from a man with a cane can be considered ableist.”

“First of all, I am not running from you,” You lied, looking up at him. You stepped a half inch to the side, using his shadow to block your eyes from the sun, “And second, if I happened to be running from you, it certainly is not because you use a mobility aid.”

“Okay Miss PC,” He rolled his eyes, “Doesn’t matter why, if I deem it ableist, it is.”

You opened your mouth to argue, floundering for what to say. You don’t remember him being this infuriating at the party.

“Exactly,” He said as you snapped your jaw closed.

“Viktor,” You sighed, “What do you want?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head at you. He gave a soft laugh, “I have been waiting all weekend to hear you say my name.”

Breathing would have been easier if he punched you. You blinked up at him, watching him watch you.

“I’m sorry, can I…” He looked around, noticing that other students were leaving the building as their classes ended. You two were standing in the dead center of the sidewalk and in the late summer heat his pale cheeks were already turning pink, “Can we just talk for a second, please?”

He didn’t wait for you to respond before he stepped off the main path and began walking into the flower garden. The dry gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked, the sound amplified in your brain as you followed after him. He settled under a latticed arch, the honeysuckle vines that snaked around it shading you both from the midday sun. 

“I’m sorry,” You said, frowning at him.

“For what?” He asked, face confused.

For running away. For not asking your name. For leaving. For joining your class.

“I don’t know.” Was all you could manage.

“You know, apologies lose a lot of their value if you don’t know what you're apologizing for,” He narrowed his eyes, voice almost scolding.

“I..I know, I’m sorry.”

“You say sorry too much,” He laughed, shaking his head, he didn’t look upset, “It’s very American of you.”

“Well, I am American,” You pointed out, letting yourself laugh softly with him, “I’m sorry for that too,” You joked.

“Well, let me apologize?” He asked, “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable in class, it truly was not my intention.”

That was an apology. A real and true apology.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” You shook your head, “Fuck, if anyone had a right to feel weird, it was you.”

He tilted his head in question.

“I mean, it was your class first,” You told him, “I just kinda…showed up.”

“Did you join the class because I was in it?” 

“Well, no,” You laughed softly, “How could I have, I didn't even know your name.”

“That’s true,” He scoffed, “I regret that, by the way, I should have asked your name. Not very polite to ask after having sex with someone.”

“Eh, it happens to the best of us,” You shrugged, liking the laugh he gave you in response.

“Well, I am glad I know now,” He told you, eyes moving across his face, he smirked, “It’s a pretty name.”

“Hm, thanks, I like yours quite a lot as well,” You smiled up at him, the step closer he took didn’t go unnoticed, “It suits you, almost as much as Pretty Boy.”

“Thank you,” He smiled down at you, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“What?” You could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

“Can I take you out?” He asked, taking a nervous breath, “I know we kinda did this in a backwards manner, but I…you are very interesting to me, I would like to take you out properly.”

Your stomach twisted. Your chest felt like it was caving in.

“No,” You said, head shaking slightly as you offered a sad smile. The unexpected hurt that flashed in his eyes killed you.

“Oh, um,” He stumbled over his words, clearly taken aback by your refusal, he tried to step away, “Okay.”

“Hey wait,” You reached out, grabbing his wrist before you could escape, “Listen, it’s not you.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, begging you not to embarrass him any further with a cliche line.

“Really, I swear,” You urged, not letting go until he stepped back towards you, “I just… I don’t date classmates. I don’t sleep with classmates. Even if I want to. It causes problems, it makes class awkward, and I can’t risk my GPA just because I find someone attractive.”

He hummed to himself, nodding as he took in your words.

“So…” He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the same way he did when you were straddling his lap, “You’re saying you find me attractive?”

You resisted the urge to lean into his palm, instead you grabbed his wrist and pulled his lingering hand away from your face, “Don’t do that.”

“I’m confused, you’ve already slept with me? So what does it matter?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. He was so fucking handsome you wanted to scream.

“Because, at the time, we weren’t classmates.” You explained like it was obvious.

“Okay, so let me get this straight, you will be in a relationship - sexual or romantic - with someone as long as they aren't an active classmate?” He asked, lip curling up in confusion, “But if they were a past classmate, or in our case, a future classmate, it's fine?”

“Exactly,” You shrugged, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“That’s actually very unreasonable.” He told you, “And also does not make much sense to me.”

“Well, good thing it’s a rule for myself.” You huffed, “You don’t have to understand, you just have to respect it.”

“So, if we were in separate classes, would you go out with me?” He asked.

“Probably, yes.” You admitted.

“But not now, because we are in the same class.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So, if I ask you when the class is over, you’d say yes?” He leaned towards you, probing.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “Who’s to say you won’t hate me by the end of the semester?”

“Well, considering you seem to be friends with the only people I know at this school, that would be rather unfortunate.” His voice lowered at the end, he was closer to you know. Very much within kissing distance. Right now there was nothing more you wanted than to feel his lips against yours. You know they’d be cool in comparison to the stagnant summer air.

You didn’t. Instead, you took a step back, and shoved your hand out into the distance between you, “Friends and classmates? Can you do that?” You asked, he studied your hand like the offer was written on it, then sighed.

“Fine, I can respect your rules,” He took your hand in his, firm and strong and cold, “Friends and classmates…for now.”

He moved his index finger softly across the inside of your wrist as he held your hand, goosebumps sprinting up your arm. You carried that feeling with you for the rest of the day.

[kissingghouls]

The Emperor (Suck Club IV)

Part Two: The First - (Part One // ao3)

Vampire Primo x Female Reader

Summary: You seek comfort in Primo's old cottage, unaware you aren't alone in the woods. ♥ This chapter directly references events that take place in The Prince, not exactly spoilers but I'm adding a heads up anyway. Tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, dual pov, flashbacks, horror themes, vampire violence, violence, blood, (eventual) smut, and more tags on ao3 // 3600ish words div by @gothdaddyissues 🖤

“So…vampires like pizza?”

It might’ve been a stupid question but in that moment it was the only thing you could think to ask. A delivery box with a nondescript logo—some local place, you guessed—sat between you and the much older man. For some reason, he had also set the table for a much fancier meal, complete with the confusing number of silverware.

The odd man simply shrugged as he delicately cut into his pizza with a knife and fork. “I suppose some do, though, I can’t speak for all of us. I just assumed young people still liked pizza.”

“Huh.” You took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as you prepared the next question. “And how many years young are you?”

He cracked a smile, laughing through his nose. “Quite a few, I’m afraid.”

“Like…centuries? Wait—is it rude to ask?”

He smiled softly. “I don’t mind you asking, piccola. Let’s see…” He paused and began to tap on his chin as he added up the years. “Somewhere around 900 years old, give or take. After a certain amount of time, one falls out of the habit of counting.

You sat back, sinking lower in your seat. “You really are him, aren’t you.”

“I told you, cara, I don’t know why anyone would pretend to be me.”

“Primo?” you asked softly, using his name for the first time. “Why did you really do it? Why waste your time saving me?”

He set down his silverware and looked you in the eye. “You reminded me of someone.”

The memory played over and over as you drove down the dark stretch of road. There was no need for street lights along the old highway at the edge of town. People hardly came out this way anymore, opting to use the newer highway to get to the city, but it was still the only direct route to Primo’s charming cottage. He loved to bring you along on afternoon drives, telling you stories about its heyday and pointing out old places of interest as he sped down the desolate strip. It was an artery, he said, a direct line to the beating heart of the city just over the horizon, so busy and full of life as people traveled back and forth. Now it was just a place where bored teenagers went to cause trouble and pretend to summon things in the woods.

As long as they stayed away from the old Emeritus place you didn’t really care what the local heathens got up to.

It used to be calming out here, like wandering down a secret path to some hidden tranquil place. A place only a handful of people knew about and even fewer visited. Now it felt like you were somewhere else, some alternate dimension where the harsh reality of all those abandoned properties made your skin crawl. Those sad, broken buildings looming in the woods waiting—longing—for someone to return. The seemingly magical veil that previously blanketed that strip of highway was gone, leaving only busted windows and sagging roofs to remind you of your own loss.

You’d been avoiding the cottage as much as possible. It might be all you had left of him, but most of the time it felt more like visiting a gravesite than the place he called home. How could it not? You’d mourned there, buried your hopes there and still your offering—your sacrifice—wasn’t enough to bring him back.

You often wondered if he even could come back. Of all the things you’d discussed over the years, this was a contingency neither of you planned for. Whatever the reason, you knew deep down leaving was his only solution and likely one he struggled with immensely. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less. Knowing didn’t erase the last conversation you had with him.

“Primo?”

“Diavolina,” he responded in the same flat tone.

“Are you in trouble?”

He turned and gave you a reassuring smile. “What trouble could I be in?”

“The worrying kind. I mean, that’s him in there isn’t it? Your brother? With the girl?

“There is no need to worry, cara. It’s under control.”

You laughed angrily. “You’re really not going to tell me anything, are you? After everything—”

“Enough,” he chided. “Acting like a petulant child will not change things.”

“A child? Seriously? Go fuck yourself, Primo,” you spat and started down the pathway.

“Dia, wait—”

“No. Don’t think you can sweet talk your way out of this. Sure, you’re older than me. Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are hiding something from me. And that fucking hurts, Primo. Do you understand that? I don’t care what excuse you have for it. I don’t care if you’re trying to keep me or them safe. A secret like this is a shitty thing to keep from someone close to you—”

“I’m afraid,” he admitted quietly, cutting off your speech. “I am afraid and I have not felt fear like this in a very long time. You can understand that, yes?”

You nodded solemnly.

It stayed with you, haunting every waking moment. No one knew where he went. The brother and the girl tried their best to assure you he was fine, but it was obvious they didn’t know any more than you did. Your relationship with Primo was one thing, but you weren’t about to let two very hungry vampire strangers comfort you about it.

Darkness swallowed everything beyond the reach of your headlights as you finally approached the cottage, the withering exterior appearing sickly under the dull glow. An awful wind whipped around the property, kicking up leaves and dust as you stepped out of the car. The structure groaned under the force of it, as though it might crumble completely with a strong enough gust. It broke your heart to see the cottage this way, this little piece of utopia left to rot on its own.

What would Primo think?

You pushed your way inside and called out to the vampire, unable to break old habits even now. Aside from the occasional creaks and settling sounds, the house remained silent. It smelled of dust and stale air instead of tea or fresh flowers. No one was singing in the cramped kitchen, empty chairs still tucked under the table. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the state of things, not tonight anyway. In the morning maybe you’d have the energy to clean up a bit and make a few calls about repairs. But tonight you squeezed through the small hallway between the kitchen and the conservatory and past the rows of shelves lined neatly with bottles older than you. There were a dozen or so unlabeled bottles tucked away in a back corner, a place of high praise reserved for Primo’s most treasured vintage. You plucked one from the shelf before making your way back through the house and up the winding steps to the second floor.

Old photos and paintings lined the walls, a miniature gallery devoted to the time Primo had spent here. Newspaper clippings detailing the opening of his beloved botanical garden and other forgotten success stories of Aurea Valley were placed lovingly in frames beside pressed flowers and keepsakes leading up to the room at the end of the hall. You felt along the wallpaper, searching for the light switch in the dark. The ornate lamp on the bedside table clicked on, filling the room with a dim orange light. Its wiring had been taking apart and soldered back together at least three times since you’d met Primo, but he refused to let the thing go. There were many things like that in the cottage, pieces that had dulled and faded with time but were still just as important or sentimental as they’d always been.

The bedroom was left untouched in his absence, scattered with various items he’d left behind during his great getaway. For months it had hurt too much to face it, but now all you wanted—all you needed was to feel close to him again. You didn’t care if it was pathetic or sad or even insane. You needed the comfort and clarity of his pajamas and the fading scent of his cologne still trapped in the fibers. You needed to be in his bed, in his clothes, with his favorite wine because it was all you had left.

Just for one night, you told yourself and curled up in his blankets like you belonged there. It was technically your house, after all. It didn’t take much for the alcohol and general exhaustion to lull you into a deep sleep filled with sweet memories of your vampire.

“What do you think? Are you afraid, cara?”

“Of you? No,” you replied with a laugh. You paused, tilting your head as you stared at his silly store-bought costume. He had dyed his hair with one of those spray cans of color, turning it into a pitch-black helmet. A cheap one-size-fits-most tuxedo made of mystery fabric hung awkwardly off his shoulders while a massive plastic medallion painted gold held a cape around his neck. “Don’t you think it’s a little…”

“A little…?”

“I don’t know…isn’t Dracula a bit on the nose?”

Primo’s forehead creased as his mouth set in a hard line. “I’m not Dracula, cara.”

“Oh, you’re not doing, like, a Bela Lugosi thing?”

Primo was too busy continuing his rant to answer you. “Dracula was written in 1897, cara. I am a great deal older than Dracula. In fact, I am a great deal older than Vlad Țepeș himself! Older than Vlad Dracul!”

“Ok old man. Then who are you dressed as?

“Ah, eh. Someone much worse,” he offered gravely. “My brother Terzo.”

-x-

Primo’s stomach turned as he approached the cottage. The strange scent that encompassed the Valley only grew stronger the closer he got. Thick and sickly-sweet, the smell was everywhere as though something was marking its territory. Something or someone. It was hardly surprising that his absence would attract another being to this place. Under normal circumstances he might have praised them for being so bold. But here like this, he felt only anger, a deep burning rage toward whoever dared to commit such an unforgivable trespass. After what happened to Secondo and Terzo, this was nothing short of a declaration of war.

He wasn’t going to lose you or his home without one hell of a fight.

His movements were quiet and careful as he crept through the dense underbrush that had sprung up around the property. Whatever was here, whatever supernatural creature decided to follow you here wasn’t particularly interested in covering its tracks along the way. It did, however, remain hidden from view and Primo was too focused on your immediate safety to properly search for the intruder.

The full moon bathed the conservatory in a silvery light, hiding the interior from view. There was almost no light within the cottage, only the soft blue glow of a television shone somewhere on the second floor. He stared up at the window, following the layout of his home in his mind. His bedroom. You were in his bedroom. He closed his eyes, straining to hear your slow, relaxed breaths over the ambient noise of the woods. Inside this place, in this little castle he’d built, you were safe from whatever monsters lurked outside, free to dream of whatever your heart desired. It was oddly comforting to know you were near. That you were safe and healthy in this place. Possibly even happy. Maybe he should have known better than to build his comfort around you, but that’s where it was. That’s where it had been from the day he met you.

There was a time when a year would have meant nothing, gone as quickly as the blink of an eye. But Primo counted the days you were apart. Spent each moment sulking and brooding his way across continents while hiding in the kind of hotels where people didn’t ask too many questions. One day he hoped you would forgive him for leaving without an explanation. If he was honest, he’d spend eternity trying to earn your forgiveness if you asked.

A hopeless old vampire. What a fucking cliché he’d become.

He sighed, directing his focus toward his reflection in the glass. A perfectly normal face stared back at him, eyes bright and sharp. The fine lines he’d quietly developed over his first lifetime, all the little signs of age and worry, every survival badge he earned on his skin had dulled and smoothed over. A healthy glow, some would call it. A skincare routine Bathory would die for. A younger man stood before him, wrinkles replaced by soft skin and a relentless hunger he could barely control. Everything had a price and Fate demanded more than a pound of flesh for saving his brother.

She hadn’t lost her sense of irony, even after a millennia.

The more he fed, the younger he appeared. And when he tried to fight it, Fate filled his mind with horrific visions and turned his blood to fire.

He sighed again, heavily this time and his breath fogged up the glass. He was so deep in his own self-pity he didn’t see it. Didn’t hear a thing as a massive, shadowy figure picked him up and tossed him through the glass wall.

The car rocked gently as he drove, lulling you into a deeper sleep. You’ve really done it this time old man, he thought to himself as the forest squeezed against the road. What the hell was he doing? No. What the hell were you thinking? And just who the hell were you?

“Augh, my head,” you whined from the passenger seat, gripping your hair in your fists. After a beat you realized you were in unfamiliar surroundings with a strange man. You shot backward, body pressed against the door to create as much distance as possible. “What are you doing?”

Primo huffed, never taking his eyes off the road. “I couldn’t exactly leave you in my garden to bleed to death, piccola.”

“If you think you can just drag me somewhere to drain me—”

“I saved your life,” he corrected, raising his voice. “And I cleaned up your little mess.”

“So that means you just get to kidnap me?”

“Would you like me to take you back so you can explain to the local police just what you were doing back there?”

“Not really.”

“A simple thank you would do.”

“Pull over.”

He sighed and brought the car to rest on the shoulder. It took only seconds for you to jump out and begin to stomp your way down the road. “Piccola,” he called after you. “It’s dangerous out here.”

“More dangerous than riding around with a fucking vampire?” you shot back.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Depends on who you ask, I suppose. But you know what I am. Do you think you can outrun me?”

You let out a frustrated scream that echoed through the woods. A flock of birds flew from the trees, screeching back at you for making such a sound.

“I don’t have to outrun you if you don’t chase me.”

“Fair point. Would you like to get back in the car then?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You needed help. I helped.”

“Really? All I remember is you shoving a bunch of leaves in my mouth before I blacked out. How is that helping me? How is kidnapping me helping? And what the fuck do you care about what happens to me anyway?”

The question stung like salt in an open wound. When he found you there, writhing in pain as you bled out between hastily painted sigils and candles burned down to nothing he had truly only wanted to help. “I—if you need protection so badly you’re willing to risk performing that ritual…”

Your eye narrowed as you stalked toward him. “That’s—”

“I can offer you protection. Greater than anything that ritual has to offer.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why?”

Being evasive did him no favors, so he decided to just be honest with you. “Fate.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

He cast his gaze on the ground, drawing lazy circles in the dirt with his shoe. He sighed under the weight of his confession, preparing himself for any reaction. “It means I wrote that ritual, the one that nearly killed you. I created something in the naïveté of my youth—”

You laughed loudly, doubling over as you clutched your stomach. “That’s—that’s impossible,” you struggled between giggles. “You’d be what? A thousand years old?”

“Not quite.”

You swiped at the tears forming in your eyes, still struggling for breath between each burst of laughter. “You really expect me to believe you’re Primo Emeritus, don’t you?”

“I—I don’t…what exactly do you mean?”

“Half of the vampires out there claim to be Emeritus vampires. Do you think you’re the first?”

His brow furrowed. “I am the First. Why would anyone pretend to be—”

“Oh, not just anyone. Almost everyone.”

-x-

The sound of shattering glass dragged you from alcohol-soaked dreamlike memories. You shot up immediately searching the room for a possible the source of the noise. The window near the bed was still intact, its heavy, dusty drapes mocking you with their stillness. In your semi-conscious state, you realized the sound must have come from downstairs. The conservatory. That entire room would’ve looked like a jackpot for anyone hellbent on breaking glass for a thrill.

You were going to kill those little fuckers. 

Shoving your phone in your pocket, you climbed down from the massive bed and quickly made your way downstairs. As you crossed through the kitchen you flipped every light switch along the way, hoping that maybe the thought that someone lived here would be enough to scare off would be intruders.

 “Hello?” you called out as you reached the threshold of the conservatory. “This is private property asshole.” 

Nothing. You sighed, part in anger and part in relief. Just a couple of kids fucking around in the woods and ruining your perfectly good dreams. You flipped on the light and stepped into a pair of gardening boots before grabbing a broom.

“Jesus,” you muttered as you approached the broken pane. The entire 8-foot panel of glass was in jagged pieces scattered across the floor. “What the fuck did they throw?”

Something stirred behind you, a small, wounded sound followed by a grunt. You traced the noise past the overgrown plants and broken furniture, glass crunching under you boots with each step. Aside the worktable still cluttered with Primo’s last concoction, the figure of a man lay sprawled on the floor, barely moving. The sickening metallic smell of blood assaulted your senses as you took in the sight in front of you. The man was injured, his face dashed with several small cuts as through he’d gone through the window headfirst. It was difficult to tell the extent of the rest of his injuries, but you were sure they were there. He was the object that had broken the window.

Who throws a grown man through a window?

You looked back and forth between the man and the pattern of broken glass along the stone floor.

What throws a grown man through a window?

The man stirred, fingers twitching as he let out a hollow cough. You moved closer, kneeling beside him to get a better look at his face. His features were oddly familiar, blond hair, high cheekbones, and a prominent nose just like—no, it couldn’t be? The man in front of you appeared years younger than your vampire, but the resemblance was so striking, so startling it couldn’t possibly be anyone else.

“Who the hell?” you mumbled to yourself.

He began to cough again, quickly bringing a hand to his mouth to cover it. The action seemed to wake him from his unconscious state and he used the opportunity to slide away from you.

“Hey, it’s ok,” you offered gently.

“No. I—uh—” He looked up, eyes searching yours as he made some vague excuse. But his eyes—

“Primo,” you whispered, staring back into the stark white iris of his left eye. It wasn’t a question or an accusation, just a strange fact being presented to you as plainly as anything else. His face was full and free of the skull shaped paints he loved, but there was no doubt left. This was Primo Emeritus. Your Primo. “How is this possible?”

He winced and those familiar little lines around his eyes deepened like they would in the future—or had in the past. “Diavolina,” he began quietly. “I—”

“What happened to you? Where the hell have you been?”

Guilt flashed across his handsome features. “I was—”

“Nevermind. Let’s get you inside.”

“I can’t. It’s not safe—”

“When is it ever?” you snapped.

Shame now settled on his face, like a scolded child. “I must go, Diavolina. And I will return,” he added quickly. “But it’s not safe. I need to feed.”

Your brow furrowed as you processed what he’d said. There was always an awareness with your vampire; you had never denied what he was or what sustained him, but this was the first time you had ever heard him discuss it in such succinct terms.

“Primo, I don’t understand.”

“I will explain everything,” he managed through a grunt as he pushed himself up. “Everything, tesoro. I promise. Please, just trust me a little while longer.”

You nodded once and the vampire made an impossibly swift exit back through the broken panel. Primo had never made you a promise he didn’t keep.

more stuff by me // comment or DM if you'd like to be added to the taglist ♥

[theoneandonlysemla]

Sujamma Sundas!

Thank you for the tag @skyrim-forever 💞

Tagging: @dirty-bosmer @friend-of-giants @firefly-factory @illumiera @hircines-hunter @lillxart @ladytanithia @pocket-vvardvark @rakaiawriter @sheirukitriesfandom @sanza-17

Topic: This week, Sujamma wants to know about YOUR OC's special someone. What makes their relationship special? How did they meet? Were they enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies? Lovers AND Enemies? Are they romantic or platonic? What's their favorite way to cuddle? Favorite date night? Anything and everything you can think of 💕

Ohhh, do I need to decide who I'll be talking about here? Can I talk about all my main couples? :P

Let's start with Nevri and Morotar. What makes them special is him being a detestable cunt and her being the one to hit him on the head for it. They actually got to know each other because he saved her and Canmal's life when they were attacked by Boethiah's cultist. Back then he was "a mercenary" and travelled with them back to Winterhold, where they decided to hire him for getting Goldbrand. And while travelling, Nevri did fall for his looks and cunty character and the rare times he can be nice :P (She's vulnerable, okay??) One thing comes to another and after they got closer, everything falls apart. With DwD 2 their story goes on, Morotar has a severe loss of memories but as their paths cross again, he does one thing: he knows her. A lot of pushing away from her follows until they do get closer again (she has good reason for that) while he will utterly fall for her 😩❤️ I don't know how their story will end and what will come of them, but I love to picture them together in a calm future. Anyway, I guess they go like: strangers -> reluctant friends -> lovers -> enemies -> strangers -> whatever the fuck that mess is they are in in part 2 Thinking about it, they'd love to cuddle in a bed and have their peace together and I often picture how Nevri washes his hair and he does enjoy that so much because someone cares for him. Their idea of a date night might be sparring or something :P

Going on with my favourite toxic couple: Ancano and Faralda! These two idiots started out as... let's call it colleagues and the entire thing became a secret work place romance at the College of Winterhold. Until Ancano's toxic ass fucked up big time after gaslighting the shit out of Faralda and cheated on her with Nirya. Nirya does thing she has won, but ... the price is foul🤢 Anyway, they do have a toxic rebound after Ancano got stabbed by a certain Dunmer woman mentioned in the text before. For Faralda is really is the last time this has happened, until she sees him being a yearning mess for her and decides to play with him. Currently, we're at the phase where her sadism really spirals out of control (good for her). As they do not have a traditional relationship, I'd say their idea of a date is a little strange. Ancano would like to have her only for him and longs for her attention. He'd cuddle with her after sex, to keep the appearance that it means more to him but he's not really a cuddler. After he cheated in her, Faralda does want to cuddle with anyone but him :P Her perfect idea of a date is her throwing rocks at him ❤️

And here we are with my most fucked up couple, that is poor Ria and Mannimarco. Hell, she chose the worst man. But my bf likes to argue that Ancano is worse because he's racist and Mannimarco is too egocentric to be really racist 😆 Well, let's see. She is absolute delulu and unhappy in the place she is now, serving a group of men (ew) in a dilapitating fort. And there comes her worm knight in shining armour... or red cloak... to her rescue. He infiltrates her brain until she falls for him and she is absolutely and utterly in love with him. Too bad that he sees her as his little experiment. But that does not hold him back from fucking the lab rat. He's nasty like that ❤️ You could say, it is a very romantic gothic horror lovestory that I'm crafting there and so their ideal date would be basically what I've written in chapter two, just having sex in a fairy ring under the moonlight. And for Manni it may include feeding her corpses and counting how many maggots he can pull out of her orifices. Well... yeah. That's that!

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖

╰┈➤ ❝ jeremiah x afab!reader | VALENTINE'S EVENT !

tags : fluff, established relationship, use of pet names "baby" and "princess". no content warnings!

wc : 1.2k

an : requested by @xavissky !!!!! always happy to write a miah for you madi hehe <3 go get ur man 😌✨

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

ko-fi jar / commissions

Plans for a valentine's date fall through, but at the end of the day, spending an evening by his side is everything you could wish for.

Ding!

A shuffle at the door.

"Shit— uh—! Just a sec!"

Your weight shifted from one foot to the other, and a little smile formed on your lips. All at even the mere sound of his voice. There was something amusing about the situation, and you couldn't for the life of you imagine what he was doing back there—but you glanced at your watch, and you supposed that it couldn't be helped. You were a little earlier than scheduled.

You adjusted the strap of your bag as you waited, and the door opened to reveal a Jeremiah that was a little bit out of breath.

"Hey! You're early?!"

Your eyebrows raised, trying to peek into the space behind him.

"What've you been up to?" you stepped closer, another attempt to see for yourself—only for him to step directly in front of you.

"'Miah!"

"What? No greeting, princess?"

He grinned as he scooped you up into his arms, effectively twirling you around. A bout of laughter fell from your lips that you could tell he cherished, and he leaned in to leave a little peck on the tip of your nose.

"Heyyy, hey! What's with all the affection suddenly!" Your feet touched the ground again, and you reached up to ruffle those little curls on his head that you'd always adored.

And this wasn't even supposed to be much.

You'd come from a long day of work, and the both of you had been busy… things just ended up that way. Even now, with another glance at the clock, it was well past ten in the evening, and the two of you had made it clear that you could both just have a simple little dinner and call it a night.

Fondly, you ran your fingers through his hair, and watched him lean into your touch.

A moment passed.

Quiet, serene, simple… But when it was with him, it always meant more than the world to you.

"So, what have you been up to, 'Miah?" You smiled as you took his hands in yours, simultaneously leaning back a little to try and scan the room. Nothing immediately caught your eye, but you turned curiously back to him, anyway. "Babe, don't tell me you got something for me… We promised!"

"Hey, hey, I know, I know! Just—it's nothing extreme, I promise."

"'Miah!"

"Baby, but it's Valentine's day! I-I couldn't— not—"

"But then I'll feel bad for not getting you anything—"

"Shhhhhhhhh."

He pulled you close again, placing a little kiss into your hair.

"I know, baby, I'm sorry. You don't have give me anything, okay? I just want to spoil you a bit! Look—you can make it up to me tomorrow of you need to, or… Or, you can be in charge of whatever we do today, or something. Just, I want to do my part, and show you how much I love you, in my own way…"

Your lips pursed, and for all of that adorable pleading gaze adorning his features, you could try to be upset with him. But you could never deny being spoiled by him, in the end.

Relenting, you offered a light punch to his shoulder, and shook your head. "Okay, okay. You win this time!" Your gaze softened. "Just… Sorry, yeah? I'm partly to blame for the reason we couldn't go out, I know it was supposed to be our date night…"

He smiled. "I only wanted to spend time with you. And that's what I'm doing now, right? No sorry's needed, princess."

And with the way that he said it, you felt that there was more to it. More to… whatever it is that he'd prepared for you.

Knowing Jeremiah, knowing how much he knew you, in the first place… It really was in his nature to want to spoil you, and you might as well have expected it. In truth, it wasn't even that you minded. You felt light in your footsteps as he tugged your hand and had you follow him into the kitchen, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you were grateful to have someone who never failed to make you feel more loved than you ever thought it was possible to feel.

The oven dinged right as you walked through the door, and that very familiar, very welcome smell of freshly-baked cupcakes surrounded you both. It was a wonder that you'd been so distracted by him, that you hadn't noticed the baing smell just earlier.

"Jeremiah…!" you gasped. You could have run over yourself if he hadn't beat you to it, flashing you both a wink and a knowing sort of look as he brought the tray out of the oven.

Strawberries.

Your favorite.

"You really, really shouldn't have…"

Slow steps towards him had him setting the tray down to cool, and it was almost as if he'd read your mind—nevermind that he'd had you in his arms mere moments ago, he was glad to pull you in again, and you could see the fondness glimmering in his eyes so clearly.

So full of love.

So full of adoration.

"Oh, I shouldn't have," he laughed quietly, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, "but I sure as hell wanted to. We're going to make the absolute best of this evening, I promise you. Maybe… one cupcake at a time."

For a moment you both stayed like this, just the soft caresses of his thumb and the love shared between the two of you that needed no words to be said. Because that was how it was with him.

"You're so silly," you murmured. "Silly, and sometimes infuriating, and sometimes adorable… And you're so sweet. You make everything sweet. Hell—did you know? Even honey feels sweeter with you. And cherries, and berries… Strawberries…"

"You think? Do go on!"

The grin on his face was contagious, and you stuck your tongue out playfully before giving him a shove. "See, there's the little infuriatingly adorable part of you."

"Haha! You love me!"

And your eyes softened.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Perhaps, through all the things that he does, has done, has been doing for you—you've always stopped to wonder if what you've been doing was enough to repay him. But the mistake in that was that it was never about repaying… and why would it be? This wasn't transactional.

He was just—him.

Just Jeremiah.

Quite literally, the love of your life, and the very person who'd just spent, maybe the past half hour or so baking you cupcakes.

He was right—this was just the way he showed his love to you, not because he expected anything in return, but because he wanted to. And it was the same with you, wasn't it? Perhaps you couldn't always live up to the extravagancy he does sometimes, but you didn't love him because you had to—you loved him because you wanted to.

Despite that little promise you'd made to yourselves about not getting each other Valentine's gifts this year… You realized that something like that was impossible.

Because it was impossible to go a day without loving him—and him without loving you.

It was a gift enough.

And you repeated it.

"I love you."

Like just an agreement wasn't enough; like you had to say it directly.

Louder.

Clearer.

"I love you."

On your tiptoes, you leaned up to give him a little kiss.

"Happy Valentine's day, 'Miah."

And as his arms snaked around your waist to draw you closer, to feel your presence a little more—

The mundane was never mundane with him. And there was no other place you'd rather be.

taglist: @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @spotted-salamander @hunters-association @pixelcafe-network

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[lathbora-virann]

WIP Wednesday (on Saturday because I'm late and I also live in the future aka Australia and what even is time anyway)

I was tagged by @jkateel and thank you so much for thinking of me!

Tagging @ryrycouch @prettycozyghosty @scribeofmorpheus @haedia @pinacoladamatata @elf-trash @rosieofcorona if any of you are down for a writing or art wip :)

Here's a little bit from my Solavellan long fic that I will one day eventually publish. This is when they're finally reunited in Trespasser. She was too injured and close to death to get there on her own, so Cole helped her through the eluvian :)

“Solas,” she managed, but her voice was too weak to reach him. She staggered against Cole as a surge of deep magic rushed through her, rattling her very bones. Nymera could barely even see where they were going anymore. One moment her sight was blurring, the next she had tunnel vision, and soon the pain and green was too much to even keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds at a time. All she could do was keep forcing one foot in front of the other and trust Cole to guide her ragged, desperate steps to where she needed to go.

Seconds, minutes, an eternity… she wasn’t sure. But through the haze and pain and near deafening vibration she heard Cole speak.

“She would have crawled all this way to you, dying with every breath, ribs cracked, blood boiling; the blinding, searing pain of being torn apart less painful than the thought of losing you for good.”

And then she felt Cole lowering her to what she thought was the ground, until she felt another pair of arms gently take her from him and managed to open her eyes long enough to look up to see an achingly familiar face.

“Vhenan,” Solas whispered, eyes full of love and sorrow, and there was no amount of pain on this earth that would have stopped the smile from meeting her mouth.

Weakly she raised her good hand to his cheek, needing to feel that he was real and not the last exquisite figment of her dying mind.

“My love.” Her voice was a choked whisper of grief and relief, exhaustion and acceptance. “At least I got to see you... one last time...”

The grief was reflected on his face but not the acceptance, as the Anchor began to light up her arm once more with searing pain and crackling energy. His eyes remained on hers as they filled with an icy flash, just as Flemeth’s had all those years ago when she revealed the spark of Mythal in her. And despite the sharpness of that flash, she felt it wash over her body cool and gentle.

Nymera gasped like she had been drowning and finally found air, as the pain of the Anchor flowed out of her like the tide before a tsunami. Her vision and mind cleared, she could hear the world around her, and for the first time in a long time, her body felt like her own. The pain of her broken ribs was still there, but that was nothing compared to what had just left her. As her breathing slowed, she looked back up at Solas in awe.

“That should give us more time,” he said with a gentle, almost rueful smile. “I suspect you have questions.”

[citizen-grantaire]

the only thing the tags are right about is that Enjolras and les amis de l'ABC, as a group, were republicans in the 1830s, almost 200 years ago.. the addition is slightly better.

This wasn’t meant to be a serious post, but I do think that in a modern au, Enjolras should be a communist to remain comparatively thematically and ideologically consistent with canon Enjolras and his stance toward society and the times he lived in, in today's world. + I stress that I’m specifically referring to Enjolras here, not all characters. (e.g. this blog is named after grantaire, whom I love so much as a character, but no way in hell he's a communist)

Communism is the doctrine of the conditions of the liberation of the proletariat [link to principles of communism by Engles] It is not just an economic system but also a sociopolitical framework that seeks, through the application of dialectical materialism and revolutionary action, to eventually achieve the abolition of private property, liberate people from all forms of oppression and exploitation, and establish a classless, moneyless stateless society after and through the implementation of a transitional period of socialism, during which the proletariat (or working class, for simplification) takes political power and works toward equity through what we call a dictatorship of the proletariat where the workers collectively seize and own the means of production and the socialist state works to serve their interests instead of that of the bourgeoise etc.. welcome to communism 101 (broad, simplified)

Authoritarianism/totalitarianism are just silly words really, you can define them however you like.. they just serve to make the current power structure seem "normal" instead of requiring constant enforcement, it's only called authoritarian when usamerica feel threatened. (surprise. it feels threatened by the mere existence of communists and does anything to literally kill them around the world.) anyway, I love communist authoritarianism yay

"the ability to pick your leaders" in a liberal democracy isn't real, I don't even think that we should have to explain this after the trump vs harris circus, they all serve the empire and are not different in any meaningful way. This type of democracy is an illusion, and not a well-made one.

Reform/public services within capitalism (the examples you mentioned), while good, is not enough and limited at best, especially in countries in the global north, and need to be implemented within a socialist system, otherwise you're treating some of the symptoms but not the disease.

Okay, back to Enjolras because this is getting long.. in the book, he was a radical republican in the 1830s and wanted to overthrow the monarchy, he had knowledge about the first republic like he witnessed it and ideologically followed the montagnard (robespierre, saint just.. the men of 1793), he symbolizes the revolution, believes in necessary political violence and his beliefs centers about workers and poor people despite being born rich.. etc which are all great positions from someone from 200 years ago, overthrowing monarchy and reestablishing the republic is revolutionary in france then.. so let's ask ourselves what is comparatively true to his revolutionary stances in today's world if he was born in the 21st century instead of the 19th? Sure some things have changed in the world. Of course, canon Enjolras is an idealist which is a fatal flaw but that's not the point right now (just like I'm ignoring dear Hugo's mess of politics)

If a modern au Enjolras isn't a communist then it's not a believable adaptation of the character to the modern world. You can argue for anarchism with him I guess but it'd be a strong argument..

What other 'form of government' is revolutionary and pursues the end of exploitation and oppression from the roots you're arguing for? Thinking of Enjolras as a liberal is laughable. Reactionary!Enjolras

But once again he's just a fictional character and it doesn't matter how you write him if you do, but happy to introduce you to the immortal science of Marxism-Leninism, I guess <3

A modern au Enjolras should be a communist btw. Non-negotiable.

[ariadne-mouse]

I love that after treating Colin as less than an equal and trying to intimidate him prior to their parting of ways, Deli is clearly the one more affected by meeting again and seeing how Colin has comfortably moved on and found comradeship (or at least allyship) with Raphaniel. Like Colin was a little salty about the skald comments, but in that wonderfully understated "i care just enough to say something because you're wrong" way, a minor injury compared to how Deli is "thrown" by seeing Colin and Raphaniel fighting together

[cecoeur]

How do you sleep at night? No one to hide behind Betrayed every alibi you had You had every chance to make amends instead you got drunk on bitterness And you still claim that you're innocent, it's sad

[lale-txt]

LALECHINGO!! ; a birthday event

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ it’s bingo! and also a raffle.

let’s party!! one thing about me is that is love a little event and since it’s my birthday month i felt like hosting one :3c

so: raffle time! but you gotta play some bingo first before you can participate. lemme give you a rundown on how it works.

what's the prize?

✰ a total of three 1k (or longer) fics from me! i don’t take requests so this is a rare chance to see something specific written by me ✰ the 3 winners will receive a wishlist form from me in which they can go wild ✰ haikyuu x reader only! gender of reader is for the winners to decide, i’ll write for all of them. ✰ not limited to sfw only (that being said: mdni)

details & rules (it looks like a lot, but i promise it's easy)

✰ to participate in the raffle, you gotta fill out the bingo cards! there’s ten of them in total at the end of this post. some are writing prompts, some are for reading, some to spread some kindness. you can grab and combine any that catch your interest.

✰ 1 bingo equals 1 point. if you manage to fill out an entire card, you’ll get 10 points, so 10x your name in the draw pot for the raffle. this means you can get up to 100 points in total if you fill out all ten cards completely.

✰ it’s not first come, first serve! you got two weeks to have fun with your bingo cards.

✰ this event is mostly about making fandom a little better for everyone, whether you’re a writer or a reader, no matter how you participate in it. this means you don’t have to show me proofs how you got these bingos. putting my trust in you that you won’t cheat <3

✰ since the prizes are gonna be fics by me, i would feel better knowing you actually like my works enough to follow me. however, it’s not a must to be a follower to participate. again, it’s more about fandom than me.

✰ writers picking up the writing prompts: it up to you how you use them! can be drabbles or headcanons, small fics, big fics, moodboards, not limited to haikyuu only. really whatever sparks your inspiration. you don’t even have to publish it or tag me in it (though i’d love to see ofc hehe), this is for YOU and your inspiration.

✰ do NOT bring any ai into this. i'll rip you to shreds

✰ once you’re finished, either reblog this post with your bingo cards or send me an ask with them (i won’t publish them, just for me to keep track)

✰ i’ll draw & announce the three winners on Jan 27th and will contact them through dms for their wishlist :3

card 1-6 ; for the writers

card 7 & 8 ; for the readers

card 9 & 10 ; for the kindness

that's all! have fun ♡ - Lale

[aihaloos]

Tempted to write a replaced au twst fic where Yuu (or alternatively, I'll use my Yuu, Riyuu, who is basically who I'm writing this for) used to be the cutest girl around, the cheery one who's always around everyone, the one you can't seem to dislike even if your crush falls for her because she earnestly says sorry (even though it's not her fault) and will always help you out if you need her back in her old school. But one day, a new girl comes around and her whole reputation got destroyed. She helps the new girl adjust, tells her all the rumours and introduces her to all the popular kids. But the girl ends up backstabbing her, telling the popular girls rumours about how she intentionally plays up the act to steal their crushes to her, and lies to the boys, telling them she's just playing with their hearts and that she's a horrible person.

Yuu ends up alone and excluded, being seen as "annoying" and only having a few close friends who doesn't really interact with her in public in fear of their reputation being ruined. She ends up miserable at school, and wishes to not go anymore. But one day comes a saving grace, she gets whisked by a mysterious black carriage into Twisted Wonderland, or more specifically, Night Raven College. She doesn't mind working if it meant she doesn't have to deal with her old school, there was still 1 and a half years left of school and she doesn't want to deal with all ghe group projects to be assigned that will inevitably end with everyone not wanting to team up with her. Plus, as annoying Grim is, he's like the animal friend all of the anime and storybook protagonists she knows has, and she doesn't mind him too much.

Some things did change after she and Grim got officially enrolled, but she had no problem adapting to the social expectations of the world, part time jobs with Sam -- and occasionally the canteen -- paid enough to get her tools for cooking basic but delicious food, and new friends without the weight of her past helped her get settled comfortably.

The existence of Overblots stunned her for a bit, but a peek into Riddle and Leona's memories helped her understand the concept, even if just a little. However, things began to change eerily simlarly to her old school when a new girl comes, also in a similar position to her, getting transported to a new, unfamilliar world, and seemingly hailing from a similar world to the Earth she knows. She warmly welcomes her, eager to finally befriend another girl, but it seems that the girl does not share the same enthusiasm.

The girl only barely responds to Yuu's attempts at forming a friendship, and always seems to talk her in a condescending way, and often dismisses her, and especially so whenever there are any boys around.

Yuu will not deny any statements claiming she's an attention seeker or that she plays up her sweet innocent girl act, but she knows to never, ever sacrifice a bystander for it. But if someone insists on war with her... well that's another, different story. She's learnt her lesson of being overly optimistic, and she will not make the same mistake twice. She will not let her make her life a living hell more than it already is with Crowley's irresponsibleness.

Aaand thus begins the story. Or well, however you wanna continue it. I'm honestly in favour of most Housewardens (Kalim, Vil, and Idia in particular. I'll put my reasoning in a few paragraphs down) Adeuce, Tweels, and Ortho for team Yuu. Why?

Well, first of all, Adeuce. This is mostly because the duo is like. with Yuu since Day 1, as much of a bitch as Ace is, I think those two are the most likely to trust and know Yuu well enough to not believe the lies R (< Replacer) tells. Especially Deuce, he doesn't want to betray a friend he knew for quite a while, that would not be very honor student-like of him!! And she helped him out in a lot of situations too! He doesn't want to hurt you after all the trouble you go through to help him, and also knowing how horrible your living conditions are. Ace would most likely give in to peer pressure if the student body is overwhelmingly in favour of R, but as of now, he maybe enjoys your company just a bit more than R. Just a bit, promise.

Tweels I feel like is self-explanatory. Those two are perceptive as fuck istg it scares me. Jade especially. I feel like the two would just toy with R for a bit despite her facade and lies before dropping her after she bothers them for attention and favours one too many times.

(Ortho ties in with Idia so I'll explain him in Idia's paragraph)

Kalim is actually very emotionally intelligent. He can come off annoying and stupid, but from all the scenes I see of him, he's actually really good at dealing with people. Have you seen how he deals with the Scarabia residents after Jamil's OB??? The way he phrases his sentences?? He didn't force or even plead with them to forgive Jamil, he simply asks them to wait before making permanent judgements, and I think he's gonna be uncomfy with how condescendingly R talks to Yuu, and even if he's used to people going after him for money, I feel like R mostly eyeing him for money and how she "secretly" sighs in annoyance everytime she goes out of the party for a "bathroom break" will only solidify his dislike/discomfort, even if he doesn't show it.

Vil is also kind of self-explanatory if you read into his character and not just the shell the official English localization makes for him. (I could rant for hours about how the official tl portrays his character istg. He's hardworking and he actually didn't attempt to poison Neige out of pure jealousy, he did it because he felt like all his efforts to be beautiful will never be able to surpass Neige, who, in his eyes, always seemed to be innocent and naturally beautiful. He feels like the villain in Neige's story. He feels like he is reduced to what he often plays as, a snobbish, overconfident villain obsessed with overthrowing the hero. And because of it, it became a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy, pushing him to, in a fit of despair, be that same villain everyone sees him as.) I really don't think he will take well to R's condescension to Yuu, who genuinely wants to befriend R. (I actually have a whole thing in my head where Yuu and Vil occasionally have sleepovers where they do skincare together after the whole VDC thing happened. I feel like this is also a "vent sesh" of sorts for the both of them, just to air out their grievances without much seriousness, and I think Yuu would admit to wanting a fellow girl in the school that she could befriend, since no matter what, being the only girl can be exhausting.) Ik Vil's not a girl but he is such a girls' girl istg.

Idia... this mostly ties into Ortho and The STYX Incident, but like,, I think we can all agree on this one,, Idia is smart and capital V Very pessimistic. Would you rather trust the girl you've known for a while, who saw your memories, who helped you in awkward social situations when she can and is besties with your brother or some random new girl who trash talks said girl behind her back? The former, right? Plus, even if Yuu did only hang out with him and his brother because she likes to secretly laugh at him behind his back, there's mo guarantee R wouldn't do the same, given his experience. And he would rather have someone who actively helps him and his brother out than someone who wouldn't.

I didn't put Malleus in because of how canon him actually treats Yuu. I feel like the fandom kind of put on rose-tinted glasses on with his character, and kind of ignored some things like, idk... him just leaving them to fend for themselves homeless during Octavinelle... maybe he thought Crowley would offer them a place to stay but like... I'm still bothered by how didn't atleast offer a spare room in Diasomnia. He's a housewarden goddamnit. He's not as distant or scary as the rumours say but like. still rubbed me the wrong way.

Anyways I don't think my attention span will let me write it to completion so if anyone likes this and wants to write it feel free. Pls tag me if you do tho. I would love to read it :3

[a2zillustration]

I carried this thing for MONTHS with the EXPRESS PURPOSE of putting Raphael in it (knowing full well Larian wouldn't let me do that, mechanically) and I had one major miscalculation.

| First | | Previous | | Next |

[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[thirdeyeblue]

“Nine would have treated Martha better than Ten did”

I need to talk about this argument that never seems to stop circulating.

Note: Not a venomous/anti post. There’s more than enough of that across fandom spaces as is, and this is supposed to be a place for ✨sweet, blissful escapism✨

When making this argument, people seem to envision a scenario in which Nine never met Rose.

While I can appreciate a good hypothetical, recognizing Rose's significance to the Doctor (Nine and Ten) is essential to understanding why things with Martha played out the way they did in the first place.

In the third series, the Doctor is grieving. This grief is deliberately threaded into nearly every script, whether spoken aloud or not (and these are just a few examples):

He's burning in Rose’s wake the entire time Martha travels with him, which is why it’s so frequently called upon: It’s 100% deliberate in framing his grief. He grieved as Nine too, of course— having been fresh on the heels of the Time War — but then he met Rose, which changed everything.

Back then, he was still a rude, traumatized pain in the ass, but we watch Rose soften more of those jagged edges with every episode as they grow closer; as he lets his guard down and forms a deep connection with her.

He falls in love (against his better judgment) and it's game over.

And yes: provided S1E1 had been titled 'Martha', one can realistically assume things might have unfolded similarly to how they did with Rose. However, it wouldn’t have been that way just because the Doctor was Nine and “Nine was different” — it would be because he wasn’t already in love with someone else. The same can't be said for the start of S3.

Think of it like this: if Rose AND Martha had been in that cellar — if Nine had taken both of them along with him in S1 — we’d eventually be looking at the most melodramatic love triangle ever, what with him living in close quarters with two brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate young women... But Doctor Who is plenty “soap opera” as is with just one woman in the TARDIS.

(I certainly wouldn’t object to reading that fic, though)

Now, regarding the unrequited elephant in the room…

His inability to be romantic with Martha isn’t because he thinks her lesser, nor is it for lack of compatibility. It isn't because Rose is any better than her. It certainly isn’t just because he’s Ten.

It’s really only for one reason, which can't be denied — and now I’m a broken record:

He is still in love with Rose.

(cut from a tenrosedaily gif)

Nine is Ten, and Ten is only such a mess in S3 because he’s just lost the love of his life. Martha merely got caught in the crosshairs of a volatile Time Lord in mourning, and yes — it sucks. Absolutely.

But it also feels dismissive to chalk Ten and Martha’s relationship up to little more than some sort of mindless dance of pining, jealousy, and toxicity.

Ten trusted Martha with his life over and over again — and hers, with him. He constantly praised her brilliance, happily carting her around time and space with no intention of letting her go. In the BBC’s extended universe of novels/comics/cartoons/etc, there’s so much depth to their relationship: love and trust and trauma and sacrifice. They had their own special bond as mates, their own complexities — so it’s a bummer that it's forever overshadowed by the other things.

I’m not denying that there was a lot of stuff that sucked/was for sure toxic about Ten's S3 behavior, but so many of the things I've seen him catching flak for can be directly attributed to being A Clueless Fucking Alien Idiot (not a trait that’s unique to Ten) — as well as his flat-out obliviousness to Martha’s feelings.

So yes, I agree: if Rose never existed, he would have treated Martha differently as Nine. He also would have treated her differently as Ten. Certainly.

But Rose did exist, and when discussing canon, it matters.

“He tells me that he absolutely, 100% loves Rose... He tells me how my daughter; my wonderful, beautiful, clever little girl saved him from himself before… And he says that’s all because of me! I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”

-Jackie Tyler, Flight Into Hull!

Martha got the short end of the stick in S3. She came round at the wrong place and time, but that doesn't mean it was all bad. It doesn't mean the Doctor didn’t adore her. It certainly doesn't mean the time they spent together was wasted or worthless. They were brilliant!

Sure, he could be a twat, but let it be known that he was a twat with Rose as well, both as Nine and Ten. I’m sure Tentoo can be plenty infuriating, too. So while I'll defend Ten (and Tentoo) into the ground forever and ever and ever, I'll concede that he's fucked up.

The Doctor is a certified Pain In The Ass. It’s one of the things I love so much about this character — dynamics.

But never forget that Martha was goddamn tough as nails and overcame every bit of it. She moved on with her life, and the Doctor moved on with his. One can only pray that, when they inevitably drag her back onto the show (which feels inevitable if I'm honest), we see at once that she's been living her best life for all these years.

[valhallavalgrace]

How have your interactions with your floormates been? Do any of them seem particularly friendly?

I think this might be your guy to talk to, Leo, just a hunch...

prev ask

[wren-of-the-woods]

I've been seeing a lot of posts lately talking about how no one comments/reblogs/replies/etc anymore, and, as someone who comments regularly on a lot of fanworks, it sometimes makes me wonder if my efforts are worth anything. Then I remember how much happiness I get from comments on my own work/posts and how much the community of fandom can matter, and I remember the power that can be found in spreading joy instead of disappointment.

So -- to everyone who comments on fanfiction: thank you. You make the writing process worthwhile and so very rewarding. You make people happy every day.

To all the people who reblog art and gifsets and meta and anything else with enthusiastic tags: thank you. You make people smile and promote interesting conversations and make being on Tumblr so much more fun.

To anyone who sends people asks about their works, whether it's unprompted or part of an ask game: thank you. You give people reasons to talk about things they love and feel like a part of a community.

To the people who makes reclists: thank you. You give us more to read while showing the author how much their work is loved and appreciated, benefitting so many people.

To everyone who organizes events and groups and blogs and dedicated to fandom: thank you. You build community and love and excitement so effectively and it's wonderful.

To all the authors and artists who respond to comments and build community: thank you. You make people smile with your work and then again with your response.

To everyone who contributes to fandom and community in all the other beautiful, varied ways that I can't even begin to list: thank you. You are why we're here.

And, finally, to every writer, visual artist, gifmaker, cosplayer, maker of edits, writer of meta, or creator of art in any other form: thank you. Your work is wonderful and you make fandom what it is, regardless of who sees your art or how much response you recieve.

Keep going, everyone. You are a part of something beautiful.

[retrogradedreaming]

my least favorite thing is when people compliment someone's work by using passive aggressive comments about what they hate about other people's work. like please, just focus on what is actually in front of you