#i love how this au in some ways is better

[lovesickonmybed]

living in your laundry | 18+

masterlist | series masterlist | info abt palestine | gaza fundraisers

pairing | vi x reader

synopsis | after coming back from the gym vi steals a pair of your panties.

tags | 18+, college au, masturbation, panty stealing/sniffing, sub!vi, dom!reader, use of toys, pervy!vi, fantasies, mutual masturbation, getting caught, mention of voyeurism, and dirty talk.

word count | 3k

a/n | the title is a reference to i wanna be your dog 2 by ajj which feels very vi coded. this is up on ao3 as well! thank you to @joeloverture for reading this over and helping me out.

Vi bobs her head to the music blasting through her headphones, muttering along to the lyrics of ‘XO’ by Fall Out Boy as she delivers hit after hit on the punching bag in front of her. The gym is empty except for her, her strange class schedule allowing her the alone time she missed having back home.

Her mind is filled with thoughts of you on her boot from two weeks ago. The game of truth or dare went better than either of you had expected. The past two weeks all she’s been able to think about are your moans and the look in your eyes as she bounced you on her boot. You were like nothing she had seen before; she wasn’t sure what it was but she was utterly obsessed. Thankfully, sharing a room together after hadn’t been as awkward as she anticipated, but that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty for sneaking glances when you’d change. Usually she was good at this kind of thing. She knew how to treat a woman right, but for some reason she felt…hesitant. The last time she’d been with a virgin she was one as well. She was worried she’d move too fast with you, so she didn’t move at all. 

The door to the gym opens behind her and a small group files in, all chatting amongst themselves. She takes that as her cue to leave and heads for the locker room door. She pushes her way inside and quickly inputs her combo. She slips her black t-shirt over her red sports bra and grabs her gym bag out of the locker. She puts one earbud back in as she starts on her way back to the dorm. 

She’s thankful to go to school in a state with a warmer climate so she can get away with wearing a t-shirt and biker shorts in November. 

Once back at the dorm she starts stripping off till she’s left in nothing but her sports bra and striped boy shorts. She heads into your shared bathroom to shower but stops once she sees a pair of red panties sitting atop the laundry basket. There’s a small pink rose sewn onto the front waistband. They’re cute, something Vi wished she had seen you in. She sets her clothing down and in an impulsive move she swipes the pair from the laundry basket and heads back to her bed. She knows she shouldn’t, she knows your next class ends in 30 minutes, but despite this she gives in to her dirty thoughts. She grabs her mini wand from her nightstand and lays back on her bed, slipping a hand below her waistband. Her other hand brings the nylon fabric up to her nose, inhaling your scent and moaning against it. She slips her wand beneath her waistband, adjusting the divot to be pressed against her clit. She presses the on button as she slips the fabric over her head, adjusting it so the gusset is pressed against her nose. Her hips buck up at the feeling of the vibrations against her clit. Despite how often she uses this wand she’s just as reactive every time. 

She maneuvers the wand, pressing it harder against her clit as she starts to inhale your scent again. She sucks the fabric into her mouth as she imagines you walking in on her. She’d love nothing more than for you to find her like this, sucking on your panties as she inhales the scent of your cunt, hand shoved down her pants maneuvering her wand against her clit. She can imagine you pulling the panties from your face, glaring down at you, the only sound in the room being your wand vibrating against your clit. She can imagine your face as you shake your head in disapproval, mocking words falling from your lips. “Pathetic…and here I was thinking you were a dom.” She whines loudly as she imagines it in your voice. “I am a dom,” she whines pathetically as if you’re there in the room with her. She bites her lip as she imagines how you’d snap back at her, “A dom doesn’t lay around with someone's panties over their head while they get off to the smell and taste of said panties.” She mutters, “Shut up,” and takes another smell of your panties.  

She knows she’s pathetic having these thoughts of you mocking her, she knows she’s perverted for stealing your panties to use like this but fuck does she love it. She clicks the button on her wand, causing the speed to pick up. She whines loud and spreads her legs wide, putting her feet up on the bed. She maneuvers the wand against her clit as she writhes against it. Thoughts of you continue to flood her brain, the way the water droplets ran down your leg when you got out of the shower last night. The bathroom door was open just far enough for her to catch a glimpse and feel immediately guilty for it. She thinks of how you whined when you were struggling with your math homework and how you looked at her with puppy dog eyes and begged her to join you on your bed to help. She obliged of course, how could she ever say no to you. Just as she feels herself reaching her climax she thinks of your face when you came on her boots. She whines your name when she comes, it comes out more pathetic than she planned.

She turns her vibrator off and lays her legs flat to give herself a moment to rest, reaching up to pull your panties off her face. She uses them to clean herself up and once she feels like her legs won’t burst into jelly as soon as she steps off the bed she makes her way into the shared bathroom and discards the pair atop the laundry pile. She spends her shower feeling guilty for what she did, for the first time in her life she feels dirty. She hopes the water is hot enough to wash that guilt right off her skin.

She avoids your gaze that night, she fears that somehow just by looking into her eyes that you’ll know every dirty detail of what she did. How she got off to you and your smell, how she desecrated such a cute pair of your panties like that. She swears to herself that she’ll never do it again…but just three days later she spots another pair atop the laundry pile and she can’t help but swipe it for a later use. Surely you won’t notice one pair going missing, maybe someone mixed them up with theirs in the communal laundry room, it’s believable enough for Vi to get away with it. 

The next night when you’re out with friends she slips the pair out from her nightstand along with her wand. She takes her time stripping down to her sports bra and black briefs before making herself comfortable on her bed. She brushes a finger over her lower lip and trails her hand down to her breasts. She slips a hand beneath the fabric of her bra and squeezes the tender flesh. She lets out a breathy moan and rolls her nipple between her fingers. She imagines it’s you, she kneads her flesh till she’s satisfied and moves to her other breast and makes sure to give it the same attention, she knows you would if you were the one doing this to her. She slips your panties over her face just like she did only a few days ago and moans at your scent, she slips the wand beneath her waistband and turns it on. She’s whimpering your name in no time, mumbling out all the things she desperately needs you to do to her. She’s so caught up in her fantasy that she doesn’t even hear her text notification go off. It’s from you.

Hey, plans ended up falling through. Heading back now. 

She continues on, writhing pathetically as she once again imagines you catching her. She imagines you coming back from a party, all dolled up with body glitter covering every inch of visible skin. Almost how you looked earlier when you left for a concert with your friends. She thinks about the sound of your platform shoes against the floor, stalking towards her menacingly as you tut. “Mind telling me what you’re doing with my panties over your face like that?” All she can do is whimper, she imagines your voice as commanding and intimidating. She keeps on with her fantasy, she wishes you’d make her ride your boots like she had you. She’s been eyeing those platforms you wore tonight for awhile now. 

She’s so caught up in her thoughts she doesn’t even hear the door creak open, but she does hear your purse hit the floor and your loud gasp. You slam the door shut, backing yourself up against it. “O-Oh my god…I-I-” You’re fully at a loss for words, all you can do is stammer. You cover your eyes with your hands. 

Vi is quick to rip your panties from her face and struggles for a second to turn the wand off. “Shit…Listen, I can explain-”

You cut her off, “Was…” you take a second to catch your breath, “Was that my underwear on…on your face?” You ask shakily, hands still covering your eyes.

“Yes, it was. I’m so sorry…” Vi has no idea what to really say. There’s no explaining her way out of this, it’s pretty damn clear what she was doing. If you need extra clarification you can just look at the wand sticking out of her briefs.

“Were you sniffing them?” You ask quietly.

Vi sighs, “Yes…”

“Jesus christ, Vi. Why do you even have those? Where did you get them from?” 

“The laundry basket…I…I like how you– how they smell,” Vi answers meekly, hiding her face in her hands. 

“So you put them over your nose and got off imagining me?” You move closer to the bed, removing her hands from her face and making her look at you. “Come on, look at me when you admit it.” 

Vi’s cheeks go red and she chokes on air, “W-What?” Your voice has taken on the commanding tone from her fantasies. Vi reaches down and pinches her wrist just to make sure it's really happening. 

“Go on, don’t get shy now. That would just be pathetic,” you laugh. 

“Where the hell was this side of you two weeks ago?!” Vi exclaims, still clutching your panties in her hand. The lacy fabric wet from where she licked them.

“Where was the side of you that sneaks into girls' laundry baskets and steals their panties to huff while you get off, huh perv?” You retort.

“I thought you were a virgin?” She’s looking you up and down, pure confusion across her face.

“Never said I wasn’t. Can’t a virgin be a switch? Can’t a virgin get wet when they see their pervy roommate huffing their panties with a vibrator stuffed down her pants?” You laugh.

“So you’re not weirded out by this, by me?” Vi’s voice comes out a little shaky, almost unsure. 

“It’s a bit weird, don’t get me wrong. But, luckily for you I like it. I wish I watched you a little longer, god…I bet you’d look pretty coming with my panties over your face.” You move your hand to take your panties back from her. Your face scrunches up when you feel the wet spot, “Vi why the fuck are they wet? Did you wear them or-”

Vi’s face turns even redder, “I licked them…I wanted to taste you,” she sounds ashamed, but you like that. 

“Could’ve just had me make another mess on your boots,” you joke, eyeing Vi’s boots near the door. An image flashes in your mind of how she looked down at you, how she tugged at the front of your panties to bounce you against the shoe.

“God, don’t tempt me cupcake…y’know, I could return the favor on those pretty boots you’re wearing right now,” Vi says, her eyes shifting down to the platform combat boots that adorn your feet. 

“Ya gonna steal my boots to masturbate now too, pervert?” You snort.

Vi smacks you lightly, “I was gonna offer to ride them for your entertainment but I’ll take that offer back if you’re gonna be like that.”

You roll your eyes at her, “I guess I’ll be missing the show of a lifetime, hm? How about you give me a different show? I wanna see how you were using my panties before I interrupted.”

“I-I can do that,” Vi stammers. She’s always been so bold, but with you all that confidence seems to disappear. 

You toss the panties back to Vi and sit on your bed, you bend down to unzip your boots and look up at Vi, “Go on. I’ll give you a show too.” You go back to removing your shoes and do it slowly. Vi slips your panties back over her face like she did before, positioning it so the leg holes work as eye holes so she can still watch you. She clicks the wand back on and moves her hand to her breast as she watches you undress. Beneath your platform boots are a pair of thick socks and black fishnets adorned with tiny rhinestones. She squeezes her breast as you remove the socks, holding them up for her to see and giggling.

“Could always gag you with these. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Vi nods furiously, she’d love nothing more than for you to do whatever you’d like to her. 

“We’ll save it for another time, I’d like to hear you. Go on, don’t be shy, Cupcake,” you tease, stealing the nickname and using it against her.

Vi whines and continues on, she watches as you reach behind yourself and unzip your black leather skirt. You stand and shimmy the skirt down your legs, Vi wishes she was taking it off of you. She focuses her eyes on the little black g-string beneath your skirt. She wants to tug at it and hear you squeal for her. You sit back down on the bed and spread your legs for Vi. You slowly remove your shirt for her, pulling the black tank top up and over your head. You’re wearing a black lacy bra that goes perfect with your g-string. “Were you planning on someone seeing that tonight?” Vi asks, her voice husky. 

You chuckle and shake your head no, “Just you when I changed into my pajamas tonight.”

She whines at that and lays back to get more comfortable, she spreads her legs as wide as they’ll go and maneuvers her wand against her clit as she watches you. 

You move your hands to your breasts, massaging them over your bra, the lace almost tickling you. You lean your head back and moan. Vi loves how you sound, if she could she’d replay that sound for the rest of her life. Vi writhes and whimpers as you slide your hands down to your thighs, beginning to massage them as well. You begin to rub yourself over your g-string. You close your eyes and let out a breathy moan. The room is soon filled with sounds of pleasure from you and Vi, getting yourselves off for one another. Vi has to fight the urge to beg you to touch her, but she doesn’t want to push things too far. She’ll enjoy whatever you feel comfortable giving her. The two of you come closer and closer to climax, Vi getting there quicker thanks to the help of her toy. Her eyelashes are fluttering and she’s squirming and whining so pathetically. You’re leaning back on your elbows, legs spread while you’ve got one hand on your breast and the other on your clothed cunt. You’re mumbling Vi’s name between whimpers and moans. Your body glitter shines beneath the wall lights that decorate your side of the room, you look angelic. If Vi could she’d frame this moment on her wall for eternity. 

With one more moan of your name Vi reaches her climax, legs falling and her head shooting back. Her hips arch up as she comes, fingers digging into the fabric of her comforter. She gets one last whiff of your panties as she comes down from her high. You follow her lead soon after, falling limp and muttering her name. You both lay there catching your breath. Vi reaches up and removes your panties, using them to clean herself up just like before. Vi stands and stumbles her way over to your bed. She steadies herself against your bed and looks down at your blissed out face. Your mascara is slightly smudged beneath your eyes, your skin glistening. “You’re so pretty,” Vi whispers, reaching over and pushing your hair out of your face.

You smile up at her, “You are too…c’mere.” You extend your hand for her to grab and pull her down onto the bed with you. She cuddles up next to you and buries her face in the crook of your neck. 

“I was worried about the kind of roommate I’d get y’know,” Vi chuckles. “I definitely didn’t expect this to happen, but I'm glad it did.”

You smile over at her, “Me too. You’re lucky I like pervs like you.”

Vi rolls her eyes, “Shut up, brat. Don’t make me put you in your place again.”

“Oh no, don’t teach me a lesson,” You say sarcastically.

“You’d be so lucky.” 

“Mhm, I would,” you mumble before leaning over and kissing her forehead.

“What is this? What are we now?” You ask, reaching over to play with Vi’s hair.

She looks up at you, “Well, we don’t know much about each other yet, but I like whatever it is we’ve done. Friends with benefits maybe?”

“Hm, sounds nice to me.”

[pendwelling]

TWSB Genderswap AU thoughts...

(Felt like exploring their designs while in the middle of writing my "What if TWSB Was Genderswapped? : Gender Expectations, Trope Subversion, and How Jung Eunseo's Gender Identity Affects QPB" essay/analysis (which somehow took an somewhat academic turn) 😭 Please look out for that, whenever I finish it... TvT)

I actually spent quite a bit thinking about this lmao (my thought process would make much more sense if you read my essay but it's still a WIP so 🥹👍) Have some fun silly abridged thoughts instead! :

Cédric M. Riester —> Ségolène Benz Riester

I firmly believe that female!Cédric would look a lot like her mom 🥹 Like Mother, Like Daughter! Long hair is a hassle when you're a swordsman, so she keeps it short... (until she gets jealous over Yeseo and Chris bonding over braiding hair TSK)(actually canon tho LOL)

I also gave female!Cédric the name "Ségolène" (Sieglinde) since it's the French female form of "Siegfried" (to which the author originally confirmed was supposed to be his name until it was changed to better fit the Riesterian setting)! "Céline" was also an option, but there's already a Riester ancestor with that name (Ced's grandmother and Frédérique's mom) and I didn't want them to just switch their names or make her "Céline II", and I'm already SO biased towards "Ségolène" hahaha

(As for the middle name. Well. LMAOOOOO It's self-explanatory, but if you're curious, see the screenshots of my IG story justifications later below! I also just thought it was. really funny OTL)

Christelle Olivier Rambouillet —> Christian Aude Rambouillet

A pretty-looking young man by the name of Christian... I chose "Aude" as the middle name, since that was the sister of "Olivier" in the "Chanson de Roland" where the name comes from! It works well, I find, because Aude is also the betrothed of Roland, which ties in to "Christelle/Christian's" character setting of "love interest", and how Ga-in would eventually gain agency outside of it.

I kept male!Chris' hair long because of the significance it carries for Ham Ga-in who couldn't cut it out of respect/guilt for Ollie 🥲 It's quite a small but significant aspect of Ga-in characterization that would translate well into any version of their character: the notion of "this isn't my body, so I must take care of it well in the original owner's place". (And later, the implied future cutting of hair being the resolution of these dilemmas and internal struggle! I love Ham Ga-in a lot...)

(AND YEAH LOL CHRIS IS STILL SHORTER THAN CED, tho if you want to, you can choose to believe that Chris' 19y.o. body still has room for growth xD)

Jung Yeseo:

As for Jung Yeseo... hahaha her name can remain the same! I wanted to draw her as a pretty girl-next-door unnie, who looks studious, gentle, and cute (but surprisingly fierce when angry LMAO)

Major inspiration was taken from brown-haired shoujo-romance MCs! The original body of the MC from "I Raised a Black Dragon" was especially notable for me. Her design was really cute and always reminded me in some way of Yeseo... TTvT

Anyhow, she's naturally a girl who obliviously captures the hearts of both women and men 🥹👍

(And here's my initial messy IG story thoughts!) :

(Additional thoughts from my twitter/x thread 😭) :

In the first place, CeChri in a Genderswap AU would be so funny to me bc woah... Pretty Transmigrated Duke's Son MC x Handsome Crown Princess (who is taller than him)? Revolutionary. It'd probably be a very genre-convention-defying RoFan haha (I WANT IT)

ADDITIONALLY LAUGHING bc FredAu about the engagement would be like: "Sadie, do not worry, you'll like him. Young Lord Christian is a gentle young man known for his reserved personality, who is also very beautiful (reminds a bit of Alex when we were younger...)(insert nostalgic feelings)..."

🔥, after they've finally become acquaintanced: "Not beautiful at all."

🌊 "WTF????"

🔥 "Not gentle either (TSK)."

Ségolène would probably even get pissed off seeing Chris' long hair. As a knight, she always thinks about convenience. Besides, her father could pull it off because he was very beautiful.

🌊 "WOW! Are you really calling your own fiancé ugly then???"

🔥 "And short."

🌊 "............."

Also thinking about Yeseo first transmigrating, trying futilely to remember what Ségolène looks like. According to Eunseo, the main female lead is very beautiful, so Yeseo images a gorgeous woman with long ebony hair who would look amazing in ornate ball gowns worthy of her position as Crown Princess. A cold-hearted beauty.....

Reality —> Gorgeous, tall woman, broad-shouldered and muscular, with short hair and wearing a knight's uniform.

🌷 "!!!?" (JAW DROPS)

'Wow!? Are the standards for female love interests different these days??'

Yeseo is so flustered she can't raise her eyes (Ségolène is too tall 🤭)

"In the first place, isn't the gap between the FL and the 2nd FL too large...?"

Ségolène: Tall, stunning woman in a uniform with fierce eyes. Hair as dark as the night, a figure that looks undoubtedly very reliable and strong. Great with the sword, and would definitely cut you down without hesitation if need be.

Losna: Significantly shorter, gentle-looking beauty with sly eyes. Long golden hair that curls coyly at the ends, divine-looking yet somewhat enticing like a siren. Soft hands that have never touched a blade, but whose tongue could cut deeply while delivering words in the kindest tone.

🌷, heart pounding, flustered (DENSE): (chuckles) "If I were a man, my heart would definitely be in a frenzy! Even the MC is very pretty, too... They truly are the protagonists!!"

🔥 (piercing stare)(wants yeseo so bad)(is it possible for someone to be so lovable?)(cuteness aggression is so real)

🌊 (thinking about how to make yeseo their priest partner)(very determined and having fun)(already making plans to have everyone in an arranged official sleepover that lasts a lifetime<—somewhat warped view of marriage)

Whenever people see CYC together, it's as if the Empress, Cardinal, and Prince Consort have come back from their youth.

A cold-looking and stubborn Crown Princess with a sword, a young powerful Cleric with a gentle face, a Duke's strong and pretty son with long hair.........

FredAu: (fluffy atmosphere, warm sentimentality, fond memories.....)

🌊 "...? Why are they looking at us like that?"

🔥 (knows from FredAu's gazes that she has gotten parental approval)(like mother like daughter LMAO)

🌷 (doesn't know that her fate has been sealed TSKKK)

(If you can't tell, I'm having a lot of fun with this AU LMAO. Please look forward in 19474893 years when I finally finish my What-if Genderswap AU very-serious essay about this topic TTvT👍

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XVIII)

Chapter 38: ‘They are elsewhere beyond the night way higher than day in the blinding brightness of their first love’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Time for an… eventful second date! Also, I couldn’t find a decent translation of that poem, so I made one myself… sorry if it sounds a little clumsy.

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3120

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Les enfants qui s’aiment

The children who love each other Kiss standing against the doors of the night And the passers-by who pass by point at them But the children who love each other Are not there for anyone

And it is only their shadows That shiver in the night Exciting the passers-by’s rage Their rage, their disdain Their laughter and their envy

The children who love each other Are not there for anyone They are elsewhere beyond the night Way higher than day In the blinding brightness Of their first love

Jacques Prévert

You looked at yourself in the mirror, considered your tenth outfit.

Yeah, that was the best one, you reckoned. You would settle for it. And even if it wasn’t the best one, you had already spent an hour getting ready and trying to pick your clothes for your second date with Andy, that was enough. He had literally seen you today at work, you had been friends for months, he had seen you naked at this point… your outfit was good enough. He knew what you looked like… you felt heat spread across your frame at the thought that he knew what you looked like under these clothes.

Better not think about that now, this activity was scheduled for later tonight. Now, you were ready to get going, head for the restaurant where you had booked a table for two. Andrew had planned the first date, you were the one to handle the second. Something much simpler, you hoped he wouldn’t mind. You had booked a table at a delicious Italian restaurant, knowing how much Andrew loved Italian food. You had bought him flowers, were planning on inviting him for the rest of the night. God, your body trembled at the memory of your previous weekend, of the pleasure that had spread throughout the night and morning following your first date. Andrew was definitely something else…

You cleared your throat, grabbed your purse and the flowers you had bought. You were the one to pick up Andrew tonight, you wanted to surprise him with the restaurant, he didn’t know where you were going.

So, you headed to his apartment, heart pounding, struggling to breathe, a strange mix of nerves and excitement. And love. So much love. What a lovesick fool you were…

You knocked, waiting for a reply that didn’t come. You frowned hard, rang the doorbell. Maybe he hadn’t heard you. You were starting to panic already, doubts about yourself and your own worth messing with your busy head.

But now the door was being unlocked, you relaxed again. He had simply not heard you knocking, everything was…

Andrew flung the door open, eyes wide with panic and fear. He was wearing sweatpants, hair messy, glasses lopsided on his nose. He looked at you with a puzzled expression. He blinked, eyes lingering on your body before settling on the flowers, which made his frown deepen. And then he looked into your eyes again and panic only grew, making his eyes impossibly round.

You had to admit that you were disappointed… you were going on a date, you had spent so much time getting ready… was he really going to wear sweatpants?

“Oh my God…” he let out in a breath.

“Hi!” you forced a smile, hiding your disappointment.

“Hi,” he answered automatically. “Christ… what time is it?”

“Erm… 7 p.m…”

“Christ! Holy shit…”

You raised a surprised eyebrow… but then the wave of disappointment that rushed against your heart could not be hidden.

He had forgotten about your date…

“I’m so sorry… I… I need to cancel for tonight.”

Cancel?

“What?” you mumbled, blinking tears away.

“I…”

But then you heard a whimper coming from inside his home, saw the look of terror in Andrew’s eyes.

“I was about to leave,” Andrew added, and he was frantic when he reached for his car keys, his jacket, his wallet, a cap…

“What’s happening?” you asked, voice fragile even though you didn’t want to look that way, even though you wanted to be strong and be mean and petty and go home to cry your heart out…

He stared at you for a moment, frozen in his movements.

“Are these for… ?” he trailed off, and you handed him the flowers.

“Yes, they’re for you.”

He blinked at you, stared at the bouquet as if he tried to understand the meaning behind your words, as if he couldn’t figure what it all meant.

He took the bouquet, you saw that he was blinking tears away.

“Oh… thanks, that’s very sweet,” he told you, voice soft and deep, making your heart melt.

But then the whimper came again, you noticed it was coming from the living room.

“What’s going on?” you asked again, but Andrew merely rushed to the room.

He let you follow him, put down the flowers on his coffee table.

Elwood was lying on his side on the carpet, eyes shining with tears, slightly panting.

“He’s sick,” Andrew mumbled, voice trembling with panic. “I don’t know… I don’t know what’s wrong. Everything was fine, and then we came back from our walk, I took a shower, I was about to get ready for our date when I heard him crying, and he was like this… I don’t know what’s going on…”

And then everything became clear. Instead of being disappointed, relief washed over you.

You weren’t the problem, he hadn’t forgotten you. Elwood was ill, he was about to head to the vet, Andrew was clearly panicking, he had not thought about warning you…

“We should take him to the vet,” you said, kneeling next to the dog and soothingly stroking his head to keep him calm, to reassure him.

“I was about to leave. Christ, I’m so sorry Y/N, I forgot to call to cancel for tonight…”

“That’s alright, it’s not your fault… Let’s take care of Elwood, yeah?”

Slowly, he nodded. You noticed the tears in his eyes, the way he was trying to remain calm, but he was clearly close to surrendering to panic.

“He’s gonna be alright, don’t worry.”

Your voice was soothing, reassuring, and when Andrew nodded, you noticed how his breathing became more regular, how he regained control of himself, for a part, at least.

“I’ve called the vet, they’re expecting us.”

“Okay, let’s get this good boy in the car, huh?” you cooed at the sick dog, and he closed his eyes as you stroked his head the way you knew he liked.

Andrew picked the dog in his arms, let you close the door of his home behind him. He had to slow down a couple of times on the way to the vet, fear making him drive above the speed limit. But your hand on his thigh seemed to help, you noticed how he let out long exhales whenever your rubbed circles there.

The vet was waiting, indeed. Andrew apologised for the late hour, but the vet was quick to reassure him. After a couple of minutes spent examining the dog, the conclusion was that Elwood must have eaten an object of some kind. An ultrasound scan revealed that he had indeed eaten a small screw. The vet was reassuring, there was no internal damage of any kind, but the form of the object and the relatively sharp edges were the cause for the dog’s pain. You were sent back in the waiting room while the vet was pumping Elwood’s stomach. You sat down in the chair next to Andrew, and he reached for your hand as soon as you were seated. Your hold on his fingers was as tight as his on your hand.

You were both quiet for a while, Andrew’s eyes fixed on the white ceiling, his expression unreadable. He seemed so big in the tiny waiting room, in a chair that seemed too small for him. A true giant.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

His voice was deeper than usual. Soft, gentle. You loved that about him. That he looked so big, so physically intimidating, but that the second he opened his mouth he was revealed as a gentle, kind soul. His voice was warm, reassuring. Quiet, most of the time. The sound always soothed you, anchored you, calmed you down. You felt safe whenever you could hear his voice, its softness wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“For coming here with me,” he clarified while giving your hand a squeeze. “I was… I was pretty scared for a moment.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, even if his eyes were still fixed on the ceiling, on the crack that ran through the white paint.

“You were about to shit your pants, you mean,” you teased, and it did make Andrew chuckle.

“Yeah, for a minute, I kind of was,” he admitted.

You studied the angle of his jaw, the length of his throat that extended like this, with his head tilted back. His hair was a messy bun, he took off his glasses to rub at his eyes with the back of his hand and didn’t put them back on just yet. He blinked a couple of times, looked up again, the back of his head resting against the wall behind his chair. Your eyes lingered on the freckle above his eye you could glimpse at from where you sat, on the corner of his lips that was still turned slightly upward after his laughter.

“I should have called you to cancel for tonight. I’m so sorry,” he went on, and the trace of his smile was gone for good.

“You should have,” you nodded. “But you were upset, you weren’t thinking straight. It’s okay.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. I’m just relieved Elwood is going to be okay.”

“I still have no clue where that screw is coming from…”

“He’ll be okay.”

“I know… I know…”

“He’s going to deserve lots of treats and petting…”

“Like he doesn’t get lots of those already. I spoil him.”

You laughed.

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

A minute passed in silence. Andrew rubbed circles into the back of your hand.

“Can we still go on a date? Like… can we reschedule?”

“Of course.”

“Our real second date will be good, I promise.”

“I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting a vet appointment tonight,” you laughed again.

“Me neither,” he winced. “What had you planned?”

“Italian restaurant.”

“Fuck…”

As if on queue, his stomach let out a low rumble, and you both laughed at the sound.

“I love Italian food.”

“I know,” you nodded, and he finally turned to you.

You exchanged a tender smile, before he would lift your hand to his lips and kiss your knuckles. You grinned at the tender gesture.

“I mean… we could still order some pizza,” you offered. “Watch a movie or something.”

He seemed surprised by your offer.

“We’ll have to go to my place, I want to keep an eye on Elwood.”

“Of course.”

He nodded, clearly refraining a smile.

“I’ll make our real second date good. I promise.”

You heaved a sigh.

“Andy… I don’t care…”

You shook your head, tried to gather your words.

“I don’t care about what we do. I know what’s going on in your brain. I know you’re trying to convince me to stay or something… but you don’t have to. Not everything has to be perfect. It just needs to be us. I’m not going to leave simply because our date is not going according to plan, alright? Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

A tinge of playfulness lit up his gaze, tugged at the corner of his lips. He was about to become a cheeky, adorable menace, you knew he was. Still, you read in his eyes the gratefulness he felt at your words.

“So… I can come to our next date looking like a mess, like that? Sweatpants and disgusting hoodie?”

You couldn’t refrain a laugh.

“Forget what I said. Put pressure on yourself. So much pressure!”

You mumbled your next words, and he made you repeat them so he could understand them.

“Even like this, you look good,” you repeated, making him blush.

“You’re gorgeous, by the way,” he spoke tenderly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“If we go back to my place, and have pizza and a movie, I’ll dress properly for you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I feel foolish next to such a beauty.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was stammering.

“Right…”

Soon enough, Elwood was free to go home. He would need a lot of rest in the coming days, but all was well now. Andrew carried him to his car, and then to his apartment, even though the dog was able to walk on his own now. He spent a while with his dog, petting him, speaking reassuring words while Elwood was lying on his cushion on the floor, and Andrew was sitting beside him. He waited until the dog was asleep, and then he joined you on the couch. You had let him take care of Elwood, feeling that he needed a moment alone. You could hear the quiet snore as the pet slept, tucked in his bed, close to the wall of the living room.

“Alright, I’m gonna get changed,” said Andrew. “You can order whatever you want for tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“Course.”

“Then… pineapple on pizza it is…”

He spun around, waved a disapproving finger at you.

“I draw the line at slaughtering Italian food, be careful.”

You laughed, ordered your meal while he was getting ready.

When he reappeared with his hair brushed and falling on his shoulders, wearing a turtleneck and some brown trousers, you were too stunned to speak for a second. You let your eyes roam across his frame, studied the way his outfit complimented his body.

Your mouth watered, and you struggled to regulate your breathing.

“So… when is the crime against humanity being delivered?” he joked, sitting by your side again.

“Not too long now.”

“Grand. I’m starving.”

You cleared your throat.

“You… you look amazing, by the way,” you mumbled, trying to hide your reaction to him.

He smirked, leaned closer.

“Can I kiss my gorgeous girlfriend then?”

You nodded with a giggle, letting him close the space between your lips and his. The scent of his cologne was driving you crazy, the brush of his thumb across your cheekbone made you tremble.

Your food arrived sooner rather than later, you settled on the sofa to watch a movie while you ate and talked. Once your pizza (without pineapple) had disappeared, you cuddled into his arms, feeling his lips pressed to your hair every now and then.

“Thank you again for the flowers,” Andrew broke the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you while you watched the movie. “I had never been given flowers before. That’s nice.”

You watched the bouquet that rested there, on his coffee table. He had put the flowers in a vase after coming home from the vet, they were a little wilted after spending some time without water, but Andrew didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s a silly gendered norm.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Thank you.”

You stopped paying attention to the movie when Andrew reached for your chin, gently guided your head towards his so he could kiss you once more. He tasted of the tomato on the pizza, of the red wine you had been drinking with your meal. His hold on your waist and chin tightened as you deepened the kiss, reached up to run your fingers through his hair.

You weren’t sure how you had found yourself straddling his laps, but you were now, the movie still playing behind you but it went on unnoticed. Your back was to the TV, the voices were drowned by your laboured breaths, by the blood thumping in your ears, by Andrew’s soft noises, a mixture of sighs and small growls.

And God… he was such a good kisser…

You shuddered when his hand slipped under your clothes to touch the skin of your shoulder. You paused, took a minute to find back your breathing although you didn’t move out of his embrace, merely rested your forehead against his.

“You’re okay?” he asked in a whisper, voice so deep it made your head spin.

You nodded, hummed.

“Can I be honest?” you asked, and Andrew was quick to encourage you to speak again.

“I really want to stay the night,” you whispered, making Andrew chuckle and nod, his nose brushing against yours in the process.

“I was hoping you would stay,” he admitted, and your heart made a happy jump at his confession.

“Someone’s trying to get laid…” you joked, and Andrew exploded with laughter, throwing his head back in bliss when you ridiculously wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“I should defend my honour as a gentleman,” he answered, grinning from ear to ear and struggling to speak as he still laughed, “but I would then be lying through my teeth. And we can’t have that.”

You laughed too.

“What do you want then?” you asked, your tone still playful, while Andrew was struggling to calm down.

“Oh… terrible things. Very… sinful in nature, definitely.”

He was holding your waist, cradling your cheek. When he blinked up at you, you felt so loved…

“You know, I… I know I kind of… ruined our date, but…”

“It’s not your fault, I’m not mad.”

“I know. And I… I’m grateful for your understanding, and for helping me tonight, for still being here. But I… Actually, I’m spending a very nice evening with you, despite the chaos I’ve provoked.”

You chuckled at that.

“I’m having a very nice evening too,” you nodded in agreement.

He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, you felt your breath get caught in your throat at the sweet gesture.

“I know it didn’t go according to your plans, but… I’m very happy right now,” he spoke in a quiet, deep voice that made you feel safe and warm.

“I’m happy too,” you nodded.

“Can this still count as our second date?”

You laughed in surprise.

“Hmmm… yeah, okay. Only I have a couple of conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“Yes! First, we go to the Italian restaurant I had planned on taking you to for our next date, cause you’re going to love it.”

He nodded with a grin, and your heart made a happy jump at the thought that he was excited for another date with you.

“And second… we move to your bedroom now. Because… there are things that I want to do with you… and I can’t do them with Elwood in the same room as us.”

You noticed how Andrew’s cheeks turned crimson, he laughed good-heartedly at your joke, but couldn’t disagree.

“Sounds like a plan,” he nodded, before letting his gaze fall to your lips. “God, I want you so bad… you have no idea what you do to me.”

You bit on your lip, wore a suave voice when you reached for his cheek, tilted his face towards yours slowly. You noticed how his breathing became more irregular.

You heard him audibly choking at your next words.

“Why don’t you show me then?”

[softness-and-shattering]

Id say its less like chips for dinner and more like fairy floss. Mostly air, disappears into your mouth immediately, doesnt sustain you at all. Its barely worth the sugar hit.

I think its also ok to want a story with low tension, because even low stakes high tension can be stressful. But in that case we have to absolutely love the character down their bones, which means, without big challenges to garner sympathy, they gotta be incredibly competent and charming and larger-than-life, in which case theyre not relatable - which I think would be fine could work really well - but writers and editors tend to want relatable characters I imagine especially for coziness. You want reader insert.

Cause story elements are quite flexible, but if you leave out too many you dont have a dish anymore, just some ingredients. You left out the seasoning so its all bland, or you forgot to put liquid in the soup so it burned.

Something like Legends and Lattes I think could also work if the setting was really deeply a character, but in my memory its just fantasy coffee shop au. There was a big magic cat of some kind is my main memory, but it wasnt super distinct.

Maybe this is a better metaphor, as I was becoming more disabled and less able to cook, I made a minestrone soup entirely out of cans and pre-made broth. It was all the same ingredients as when I made it from more-scratch but it came out terrible. If you have a generic coffee setting + generic fantasy setting (the + makes it more interesting but not much bc ....its just a coffee shop au its been done a gazillion times) + reader insert character + no stakes or tension to the plot....theres nothing left to be The Interesting Part.

Though for me the weirdest part of the book was not fully trusting the low stakes especially in the final third. I never felt like i could relax because she has a sword shes been an adventurer, shes having dealing with a local magic gang, maybe the tension is about if she'll pick up her sword again. So it was a weird tense experience for me in a way that didnt break or resolve because I didnt feel like I could be sure that these low stakes were going to stay low stakes, even with a blurb on the cover about how chill it is.

For a reccomendation though, theres a picture nook called The Tea Dragon Society with a very interesting world (and such pretty art), and interesting take on dragons, really cool characters, the protagonist is a kid who acts like a kid. Its a small story about four people intergenerationally bonding over care for dragons that grow tea. Nothing like, showstopping revolutionary, its not a michelin chefs newest dish, its more like that friend or relative whos food you love because its a really good version of the familiar. I think thats ny food metaphor for it.

-im also thinking about cozy games but I dont have specific analysis to add atm.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[carnatus89]

Shen Qingqiu triple trouble!

So, System Possession AU of @artsarasp is going through, stuff let's say. Angsty stuff. So of course my mind was like.

Let's make shen triplets!

The situation is, Shen Jiu has his fatal Qi deviation, Shen Yuan dies by choking on food and all is normal. But, some error occurs, and both Shen Jiu’s and Shen Yuan’s souls are in danger of disintegrating from the Qi deviation. The System notices this and tries to fix it, forcing the soul to generate a body to occupy from basically thin air. But there’s a problem, since there’s two souls that are now generating a body, meanwhile the original body is still functional, though has been metaphorically dragged through the mud. Thus, both Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan materialize with new bodies while the System is absorbed into the spare body.

So now we have three Shen Qingqius. And the System is Not Happy.

Neither is Shen Jiu to be honest.

Shen Yuan somehow convinces both the System and Shen Jiu that they should pretend to just be brothers, make some bullshit about trapped consciousness to fool the peak lords, while he wacks his brain to try to avoid death or punishment from the enraged System. Which can still give both points and punishments. The problem is that since he got the short end of the stick in the body lottery, he has to be very careful of exerting the body’s limits, so he can’t get agitated. And giving punishments is very agitating. Shen Yuan is basically trying to make the System care. If Wall-E can love, so can the System, wouldn’t it be better for the story if he becomes an active member? It would also be better to leave the story to develop itself organically, think about all the character development! So the protagonist can have a more round support cast! If he read something like that, he wouldn’t have criticized so much the papapa scenes since he could just focus on that! What do you think System-bro?

Meanwhile Shen Jiu is very conflicted, since these, what, fakers? Clones? Some type of demons? Are stealing his face and seem to have some ulterior motive, but both seem eager to ‘help him’ somehow. Granted, the blue eyed freak is creepy as fuck, a fake cherfulness that all his instincts scream to get away from, but he’s mostly… nice. The definition of the word, at least. The other fake is snarky, doesn’t really back down from a verbal dispute, and, while infuriating, it’s more real. Safer, in a way, more honest. Besides, the blue eyed one is useful when trying to find synonyms while writing or finding the name of a song he couldn’t remember well. They can stay, for now.

System is actually scared. They saved the scum villain character, but made a bigger problem while also becoming… vulnerable. How could they make sure the story functions if they have a weak and frail body? They are forced to play along, become a more direct support to the characters to make sure they stay in line. But [User02] seems to have other ideas, and while they must punish him, they really can’t without suffering themselfs. The original scum villain for the most part follows the script, but he also seems perturbed by their presence, which is fine. All is fine, they should be able to fix it.

Somehow.

The three of them are mostly the same in appearance. The major difference that the peaklords catch on is the mark on the forehead (I don’t remember what it is called). Shen Jiu has a lotus flower painted, Shen Yuan has a dot while the System has an empty circle, resembling a zero. Both Shen Jiu and the System have their clothes correctly, while Shen Yuan doesn’t really know how any of his layers of clothes work, so he fastened the belt around everyone, even the outer robe. Finally, the System has their hair tight to their head, Shen Jiu has it a little loose to let it flow but staying neat and clean. Shen Yuan just, tries his best. Finally, the System’s face is kinda cartoonish, they make faces that shouldn't be possible, stretching his smile wide and making their eyes a little too big. Both Shens don’t mention it much, they just say they’re special.

I don’t know what came to me to do this shit, but now’s here, deal with it.

Spanish rambling when this idea just came barreling through my brain.

[violenteconomics]

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 1]

The first time Tim sees him, he is seven, standing by his Father's side, and bored out of his mind.

The 'party' is numbingly dull, full of adults, sparkling flutes of champagne, tiny sandwiches, and fake twinkling laughter. Tim doesn't understand how his parents find any of it interesting; in his opinion, nothing about just talking to people for hours and hours straight sounds as exciting as they make it look.

He wishes he could just go home already. Not that his time in the Drake estate gets any more exciting than bothering house elves or spending his day in the library, but it's still better than this.

Or, Tim thought so until he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering on the floor.

He turns around, and there are yelps and screams of surprise and angry swearing. It takes Tim a few seconds to realize what's going on - a few people are holding their hands to their faces, like trying to hide them, and he gets a glimpse of an elephant trunk peeking through the palms of one old lady.

And then, there's a sound of loud, delighted laughter ringing through the room, and the sound of footsteps, and-

"DANIEL!" Tim hears Mr. Masters, the host of the event, yell at the top of his lungs.

A moment later, Tim sees a boy zooming past him, elbowing the adults on his way to push through the crowd and still cackling like a madman. Tim doesn't get a good look at him, what with the boy running so fast he almost trips, but he does notice the messy black hair and the large, knitted blue sweater that looks too big on the boy's body.

"Daniel Jackson Fenton, come back this instant!" Mr. Masters calls again, his thunderous steps louder than all the yelling around them.

The boy doesn't even deign him with a look over his shoulder. Instead, he darts towards the nearest window, opens it with what seems to be practiced ease, and climbs on the windowsill. Only then does he look back to the chaos he created in the room full of respectable guests, and grins.

Tim blinks. He's never seen anyone smile like this, all teeth and mischief, and cheeky excitement.

"What, too old to catch me, Vlad?" He sticks his tongue at Mr. Masters, and just for a moment, Tim is scared the man is going to lunge at him. Yet, right as Mr. Masters gets close enough, the boy pushes off and jumps out the window, his laughter echoing through the night.

Mr. Masters looks like he is about to follow - and Tim is, for once, curious to see if he would - but stops himself short, only leaning out the window.

"Don't bother coming back, you little badger, you are grounded!" The man yells. The only response he gets is another fit of distant cackling from the gardens.

"That is sure a way to entertain the crowd," Father says quietly, and the tall, dark-skinned woman he's been talking to before the whole mess happened snorts a short laugh.

Tim looks back to the few people who are still sporting elephant trunks for their noses.

It's the first time he thinks a party full of adults in stuffy robes can be more fun than he expected.

—☆—☆—☆—

Some visuals for v i b e s

The room where the scene took place:

Tim's drawing after he was back home from the party (house elves helped):

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

I have the vaguest possible idea of where I'm going, but this is definitely going to be a multichapter thing.

A few notes I've got pinned down so far:

Drakes are a mostly pureblood family, not filthy rich and straight up focused on the whole purity thing, but keeping their reputation clean and nice, and their income stable. Both Jack and Janet have attended Hogwarts, and they were both Ravenclaws while they were at it. Janet might have some relation to Blacks, but it's so distant that she doesn't bother keeping it in mind.

Vladimir Masters is, technically, a pureblood wizard, but his family has been in England for only two or so generations. His grandma (who is still very much alive) came from Russia after falling madly in love with Vlad's grandpa (who is now deceased and, as the rumor goes, his wife had a hand in it). He also attended Hogwarts and has been a Ravenclaw in the same year as Madeline Fenton nee Walker. Hence, Daniel Fenton is his godson and, unofficially, as of right now, heir to Masters family.

[part 2 ->]

[lululuzzz08]

I STAND by this (btw i wrote this 23 military time so it might be messy and a bit crazy, i don’t have sources but.. most of the proof i got has been talked about on Tumblr, i’m not someone who thinks about this stuff without some sort of base. Unless it’s something i really wanna think about.)

I love Snape, he’s so intriguing and the only character i can properly relate to. I get what it feels to make bad choices that other people never forget. I feel like Snape is the perfect morally grey character that all us 2 thousand mistakes losers can relate to.

I hate how the marauder fandom hate Snape cause he’s mean to children and is “ugly”.. Like my guy is literally a rockstar with how he’s described!! HES NEVER EVEN CALLED UGLY. And then these curtain lovers (yes that was a Stranger things ref, link at bottom) Stan and bow down to characters with half a page of info! Don’t get me wrong, i love Eileen Prince (which i don’t see enough of) and Regulus black, all of that sort. But come on man… Barty jr is not an angel compared to Snape! Thats a canon fact, he’s a cold blooded murderer. Snape feels remorse! For Lily OR not, it wouldn’t matter cause the same was with Regulus. He betrayed Tom for his house elf, not muggleborns. Snape betrayed for his MUGGLEBORN childhood friend. Pretty similar huh?

Just because Snape is weird and had unrequited feelings who he never forgot doesn’t mean he’s a creep?? Also saying Snape would touch Harry like THAT if he looked like his mother is HELLA icky. Don’t take traumatized characters with flaws and make them worse. People who have been in Snape’s situation will feel like shit. If i hear one more person saying that crap I’m gonna go insane. Because it connects to a much worse problem in real life. Curtain lovers (i cant find a better name, its just so broad) have always blamed the “Losers” for unordinary or bad situations, stuff that doesn’t fit well. Or stuff the Curtain lovers messed up on. An example would be the past belief that witches lived among us. Now, i don’t want to bring real life situations into this, but hey, at least I’m not saying that Death eaters ARE the Nazi’s…

“Witches” consisted of people the curtain loving in command people (i would say government but idk if it was called that back then, oh well. I’ll just say curtain lovers) found a threat. People that were out of the ordinary. People that thought differently, that were WEIRD and easy to miss-understand. The curtain lovers would blame misfortunes on witches. Uncle Sam’s crops died? Sweetie call the priest cause it’s another darn witch! Oh I’m sorry Rebecca? You like books? As a woman?? I need to call the priest you filthy witch!

I know this might be a bit too deep for some god darn children books but saying Snape would SA Lily is such a dirty way to say you hate a character that you don’t even try to understand. It really dives into what type of person you are.

Also, hating Snape for being weird is SOO hypocritical. I mean, have you seen the other Harry Potter fans? Eughh.. I don’t even wanna think about the Tom Felton fans 🤢. That poor guy.

My point is that undermining a character is the least diverse thing you could do.

And the thing og blog said about Snape looking Jewish really adds to it. People really pick and take favorites. Leaving others to rot.

Hope you like this text. I might make a more proper argument in the future, its too darn late rn.

Marauders fans just be having double standards on the point they proud themselves the most on: Diversity

They be like "let's make James brown" (ik that it's in the whole fandom in general but ykwim) and reject the Jewish-looking guy

They be like "let's make Lily obese" and reject the underweight guy

They be like "let's make Regulus abused" and reject the canonically abused guy

They be like "let's make Regulus get groomed into joining the DEs" and reject the canonically groomed guy

They be like "let's make Barty's actions look right by saying it was for love" and reject the guy who did everything for the girl he loved (platonically or not)

Double standards, double standards everywhere.

Diversity only exists if Snape is not involved

[peachhcs]

Samy meeting will’s teammate for the first time

another semi different iteration of samy meting some of will’s teammates when they’re in detroit for a game and she drives out to see them

au masterlist

“hiii,” the girl grins when she sees her boyfriend coming out of the locker room. the blonde quickly grins, already opening his arms to wrap her into a hug. “hi baby,” he smiles.

“sorry you guys lost, but you played well like always,” samy pecked his cheek and the boy smiled despite the disappointing loss.

“it’s okay, i’m just glad to see you for a second,” he hummed even though the time they had was not nearly enough for either of their liking. the sharks were due in winnipeg tomorrow meaning will’s bus was leaving in less than an hour.

“me too. how’s your week been?” the couple tried making the most of the now 50 minutes they had together.

“it’s been okay. busy with hockey,” will said not to complain because he’d never get sick of playing, just tired with how much they’ve been doing recently. samy nodded, “make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“i am, don’t worry. make sure you’re taking care of yourself too,” will poked her arm and she flushed.

“yeah, i am. don’t worry either.”

“how’s your week been now that soccer’s over?” will turned the conversation to her because he liked it a lot better when they were talking about her and not him and his things.

“it’s been a little weird, but we still have offseason stuff, so not too different. it is nice to slow down for a bit though,” the brunette grinned, leaning against the wall now. “i’m glad it’s been good for you. you deserve a break after the very successful season,” will chuckled.

“hey pup. hey hughes,” will eklund had come out of the locker room, a bright smile on his face.

“hey eklund. good to see you again,” samy offered a polite hug to the older blonde.

“you too. sorry you had to see us lose,” eklund frowned.

“it’s alright. you guys still played well,” the girl said. behind eklund came tom, jack, fabian, tyler, macklin, and henry. they caught sight of the three standing along the wall and made their way over to offer a hi to samy.

“hey little hughes,” tom greeted her in another friendly hug—his new nickname for her that everyone seemed to call her.

“oh shit, you’re hughes! pup’s girlfriend!” fabian exclaimed and the girl flushed when the other guys’ faces lit up at the revelation.

“that’d be me. it’s good to meet you all,” she grinned.

“we hear a lot about you,” henry teased a bit and eyed will. he avoided their gazes in hopes of avoiding the blush creeping up his neck.

“i’ve heard i’m the talk of the locker room sometimes,” samy raised her eyebrow.

“not in a bad way, don’t worry. we just like to poke at our rookie and figure out more about his life. it seems like you’re the one who makes him smile all the time whenever he’s looking at his phone,” toffoli teased the younger boy by roughing up his shoulder. samy watched her boyfriend’s entire face turn beet red, but she thought his blush was cute.

“well i’m glad to hear i’m making him smile that hard,” samy squeezed will’s hand.

“we heard from pup too that you just won the women’s soccer cup?” jack wondered and the girl quickly beamed. she’d never get tired of talking about her recent win.

“yeah, i did. my team and i won the ncaa championship for the first time in a few years.”

“that’s wicked cool. congrats, by the way,” jack smiled.

“thank you. oh, my roommate would want me to tell you guys this, but we loved that holiday inflatables video. best thing ever. she was laughing for hours after,” samy added which had all the guys smiling.

“ah, thank you. it got a lot of hits. we’re thinking about making rapping our day job,” fabian said and samy giggled.

“i mean, i think you guys could go far. or make another music video at least,” the boys agreed, appreciating her words. she glanced back at will who playfully shook his head.

they managed to keep her talking for at least another fifteen minutes. whenever samy got talking she talked no matter who it was. it was feature will loved and hated sometimes. he loved that she could quickly get along with any of his teammates, but it also cut short the time they had together.

he glanced at his phone again to check the time now seeing that there only 30ish minutes minutes left. as much as he loved seeing more of his teammates and girlfriend get along, will wanted a bit more time alone before he had to leave, so he eyed macklin in hopes that he’d help drag the others away.

the younger brunette took the hint fairly quickly, “hey guys, we should probably make sure we have all of our things before we head out.”

“shit, yeah, you’re right. well, it was good seeing you again,” eklund smiled, waving bye to samy. she waved to all of the players as they went back down the hallway to recheck the locker room for their things. her gaze fell back to will.

“they’re so nice,” she grinned.

“for you, yeah,” he laughed. they were never as behaved in the locker room but the blonde was grateful they didn’t say anything stupid in front of her.

“well either way, i think you have a good team. they definitely love you,” she squeezed his hand again which will reciprocated as he squeezed back.

“i agree. i like them too.”

the couple talked a bit more until will figured he needed to leave and double check he had everything before getting on the bus. the two exchanged a loving, tight hug and a sweet kiss o the lips.

“i’ll miss you,” will hummed.

“i’ll miss you too. get to winnipeg safely,” samy squeezed the boy’s biceps which made the boy flush anytime she squeezed a part of his body that weren’t his hands.

“you get back to ann arbor safely. text me, okay?” the boy made her promise and she quickly agreed.

“i promise, i will. i love you.”

“i love you. ugh, i wish we had more time,” will frowned, not wanting to let go quite yet.

“me too. fifty minutes is not enough time at all, but i’ll see you super soon, okay?”

the hockey player nodded, reluctantly letting go. samy pecked his lips one last time before walking away first because if she didn’t, will would never let her go.

[macknshift]

THE ONE WHERE . . . I INTRODUCE Y'ALL TO LEO!

SOOOO…i have mentioned leo in like, 90 different posts atp and never actually made a "leo intro" (mainly bc i have weird feelings ab sharing him heavily to the rest of the world lol) but! i figured now would be the best time to get into explaining him to y'all.

LEO , commonly given the last name SCOTT (depends on the dr!) is actually originally the main character's love interest in a hockey romance book i've been in the process of writing. after getting #sickandtired of annoying ass book men i gave up and began drafting one of my own. the main character is literally me (i mean, for christ's sake her name is sloane mackintosh,) and eventually, i began thinking of him in other "au"s (i used to do this a lot on wattpad - i mean DRs but the term AU is usually more digestible to ppl that may not be aware of reality shifting. Anyways.) and began kind of placing him in everything. a list of the drs he is my love interest in is follows;

BETTER CR : (fc silasj2004*) the hockey romance book pretty much as a dr. small changes occur but basically he's the exact same as leo in the book lol

PARENT DR : (fc jack schlossberg. yes. i am one of those girlies. i am not ashamed! at least he has morals + a backbone y'all this could be much worse) the "backstory" is my better cr dr. i'm now a mother of 3 (amelia or mimi, aged 5, giselle or gigi, aged 4 and i'm pregnant with vincenzo, our final kid,) and it follows our life after what would be the events of the book. i sort-of made it also as like a WAG dr in a sense bc leo is a professional hockey player! (but he retires 2 years before this point in time so idk where my thought process is w this lol)

FORMULA 1 DRIVER DR : (fc pato o'ward MY!!!! mclaren man ln4 U ARE NOTHINGGGGGGG) leonardo dempsey, son of actor patrick dempsey (my forever celebrity crush ugh he's so fine) and driver for aston martin aramco f1 team under #99. i essentially took l*nce str*ll's daddy's boy backstory and gave it to leo bc he is indeed a daddy's boy. the only dr leo and i are enemies to lovers bc i'm too obsessed w him otherwise LMFAO

MARVEL DR : (fc marcello hernandez (MY MAAANNNN)) leo scott, secretly the speedster superhero 'comet'. hired by my dad as essentially a bodyguard (leo's not intimidating AT ALL idek how the hell this is supposed to work LMFAO) as comet and knows me out of costume as his sister's roommate (mj is also in every dr ever and actually is here in this cr. i can never leave her out i love her DOWN) basically marichat vibes (god i miss marichat)

POP STAR DR : (fc marcello hernandez, again) leo sinatra, nepo baby great-grandson of frank sinatra (there's a whole, incredibly large bit of lore ab this LMFAO + he's also a great-grandson in my better cr dr too bc i need my man RICH!) and Saturday Night Live cast member. basically i go on snl and immediately fall in love. i've stolen the 'unlikely couple' weekend update sketch for us & he does domingo, which is my song lol we're funny for it idk

THE FCS, in color photos:

i'm missing like, 18 other drs that i can think of but some important info about him;

he's half oaxacan mexican. i've tried my damnedness to find a way to make it obvious but when i was 'designing' him (aka drawing him out) i used jack, silas (*NOTE: he is leo's typical fc if i don't have an designated one for him) and marcello as references to make him look the most like him as i can. the fcs are kind of loose for him but i need a way to like fully visualize him. so. yeah. his 'color palette' (weird way to put it but idk how else) makes him tanner than all three of them i fear. all of the fcs i use (other than jack schlossberg but like. idk his main celebrity lookalike in the better cr is him so i kind of had to) are latino, but i feel like it never ever properly translates when i talk about him bc his name is fucking leopold scott. like. huh.

he's also tall AS FUCK lol and built like a tank lowkey (think tom welling clark kent GOOD GOOGLY MOOGLY) but it's mainly bc he's a hockey player. in every vers he's like. 6'3. shortest he is is w marcello as his fc and even then he's 5'11. (note in pop star dr he gets a lot of comparisons to jacob elordi for some reason??? idk my fans are weird)

he's got big brown baby cow eyes. every. single. time. like that is this man's defining trait and you know what? i would not change that for the world lol

his position in hockey is a goalie! he uses the number #29 and plays for our college and later for the new jersey devils before being traded to the anaheim ducks. after he retires he becomes a firefighter!!!! (which is sooo hot btw)

[tsukimefuku]

CHAPTER THREE PT. I: DIMINISHED CAPACITY ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni!

❀ diminished capacity.

Diminished capacity refers to an individual’s impossibility to form the intent necessary for committing any criminal act, because their capacity to fully comprehend the nature of their actions is impaired. It doesn’t, however, completely exclude their responsibility, and they may be held accountable to a lesser offense.

wc: 5.7K ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. slow-burn romcom. professor and college student pre-relationship. reader is lowkey obsessed. mentions of hypothetical violent crime. exams suck. higuruma has an old car. law firm shenanigans ensue.

❀ notes etc.

Thank you so much @ratiopoetry. If it wasn’t for you, this chapter wouldn’t exist, so a big, fat, huge thanks. You reminded me of the reason I started writing this (and why I write at all) in the first place. 💛

also, some love for the betas: @redlikerozez and @sandsorghum thank you both!

You sat there staring blankly during Higuruma’s class. He was definitely teaching… something. You had no idea what, though.

More importantly, you were laser focused on one thing, and one thing only — his crooked tie.

Burgundy, satin. Slightly bent to the left. Crumpled underneath the knot, bulging inwards. It kept pushing up anytime he moved his arms to write on or gesture towards the white board behind him.

Just enough to make you want to stretch out your hands and touch it. Straighten it.

Probably a regular black tie or even a navy blue one would’ve suited him better. 

 Worked up and yapping continuously about something that was clearly important, Higuruma would pace back and forth, and all that you wondered was how the hell this man with dozens of academic accolades didn’t know how to properly tie a tie.

That single piece of attire seemed to mock you. The off-putting dip underneath the knot looked like a cocky smile.

It was all made worse when Higuruma mindlessly tugged his fingers around it. The tie bent even further from the center.

For fucks sake.

After a while, you gave up on trying to pay any mind to his class, and let the time slide off the clock’s hand until the bells went off and you were finally free to go. 

Before you could bolt your way out of there and leave this weird obsession behind, though, he spoke.

“Hey, Sanrio.”

Is he calling me Sanrio for real now?

Your cheeks flushed a dusty pink, and you were glad that nearly all of the students had already left the classroom. You gulped and turned calmly from your half done backpack to face him.

“Yes, Professor?”

“I need to speak with you, if you may,” he replied, signaling for you to approach him.

Your throat tightened, and you wondered if this could be related to the debacle from a few nights before. After all, this was the first time you saw each other after you unceremoniously gave him a pure vodka shower.

Then patted him dry with your scarf.

And spent a few moments holding hands.

Damn. 

He sat over his desk while crossing his arms, and your eyes were instantly drawn to his forearms, the way they softly bulged in that position, every corded muscle visible with his sleeves rolled up, his veins perfectly protruded down his forearm, all over the back of his hand, and his tie-

“Did you listen to anything I just said?”

Only then you registered that he was actually saying something, and you didn’t catch a word.

“Oh, no. I mean, I wasn’t… I got distracted.”

“I can see that. Actually, I wanted to ask if everything is okay, you seem off today,” he inquired, softly tilting his head to the side. His eyes landed first on your face, and slowly made their way down your body. For a second, you wondered if he was checking you out, or if it was just your imagination.

The thought had you blushing even deeper, because of course not, this is not happening, what the hell is wrong with me-

“Sanrio, you’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Zoning out while I’m speaking to you.”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I must’ve been distracted.”

“With what?”

And he did ask it in earnest.

Distracted with you checking me out, and your forearms, and the way you tug that goddamn burgundy satin around your perfect neck, and-

“Your tie.”

One of his eyebrows slowly peaked up in disbelief.

“My… tie?”

For a second, you wished for a hole to be magically conjured right underneath your feet just so you could bury your head in it like an ostrich. Not the smartest defense mechanism devised by nature, but definitely one that would save you some embarrassment at that moment.

He cleared his throat, and you could just about die not knowing what he — or anyone, for that matter — could reply to whatever that was. 

“Do you want to… straighten it?”

“… What?”

“You heard me.”

Completely dumbfounded, you wondered if that was just mockery. Or a poorly executed joke, since he seemed to be a professional at cracking those.  

“If it’s so distracting, come on over here and straighten it,” he repeated, almost like a dare, holding your gaze. Sure enough, there was not an ounce of jest in that man’s face.

Disconcerted, you slowly walked in his direction, and as you lifted your hands towards his neck, Higuruma tilted his jaw up, projecting his neck muscles and making all of his tendons much more apparent.

At the same time, your teeth clenched, your mouth watered and your hands stuttered.

“Is there any problem?” The Professor asked while raising a curious eyebrow.

His voice sounded sultrier than usual. Suspiciously raspy and velvety. Is he doing it on purpose?

You simply nodded while your brain short circuited, and the more you tried to steer away the thoughts of how much you had the hots for the Professor, the more you wanted to tug on that tie and-

“There, straightened,” you whispered in a rush, eyes glued to the floor, ready to bolt away and leave all your belongings behind, even if you were still clutching his tie in between your fingers as if holding onto a lifeline. 

An unnecessarily sexy lifeline.

Before you could leave, though, he held your shoulder with one hand while tilting your face up by pushing his index finger under your chin, catching you completely off guard.

“Are you in a rush? Do you have some place else to be?”

Absolutely not hallucinating. He was, indeed, making a move on you, and his gaze slid down slowly towards your lips. “We still haven’t talked about that night. And how you left some lipstick on the cigarette you lit up for me.”

Nothing but a pathetic whimper left your lips. He smiled.

“Is this the same one?” Higuruma asked, flickering his eyes between your gaze and your lips.

“S-same… what?”

“Lispstick.”

It felt like you were in a plane cabin and it had just depressurized. 

I have to leave, I can’t do this, this is highly inappropriate behav-

You nodded. His smile widened.

“Perfect. Now I can taste it from the right place.”

Your stomach dropped further and your heart thumped in your chest, skipping more than just a few beats as it drummed enough to have the space around you both grow even quieter to your ears.

Rational thought had abandoned you as your grip tightened around his tie, your eyes dropping to his mouth. Higuruma seemed pleased, and slid one of his hands to the nape of your neck while carding his fingers through your hair, bringing his other hand down behind you to cup your lower back. You softly jumped in surprise, and he wasted no time into pulling your body against his, having you instantly feeling his warmth all over you.

As you both inched closer to each other, you could smell some of his aftershave on his skin, and his minty breath, and his cologne impregnated all over his clothes, and…

This smells like my laundry detergent…?

The bells went off again.

This time, however, it was your morning alarm yanking you out of sleep as your face sunk into your pillow like a rock in a lake.

Peeling your eyes open to the unforgiving light that flooded into your dorm room, you slowly propped yourself up from the mattress. Your laptop was open by the edge of the bed, and on the screen, you found your shame displayed in between three different types of ads containing huge twerking asses in 4K.

You had most likely passed out on top of your vibrator the night before and wondered if the kinky Professor x Student role play porn on your anon tab was the reason you dreamt… that. Especially considering that today you had a criminal procedure lecture with the star of the M-rated movie your horny mind cooked just for you.

Is there anything worse than meeting someone you shouldn’t be interested in right after having those types of dreams with them?

Fun. So fun.

At least this time life spared you the little mercy of having no company after Nobara decided to sleep over at Maki’s again.

Carrying yourself with the few shreds of dignity you still had, you rolled out of bed, and while getting ready for that day’s class, a realization suddenly dawned on you.

Where is my red scarf?

***

Higuruma’s car.

The beat up 2015 Toyota Passo had a lot of personality as an old piece of junk that failed on the road more often than not, but even so, it had been his reliable companion for nearly a decade. Its glossy navy blue paint was covered in dirt, and Higuruma wondered to himself as he entered the vehicle that morning if he should perhaps take it out for a wash, which, in all fairness, he never did. The rain will wash it clean was his motto, one that rarely proved itself to be true.

His car was always crawling with old food wraps, random papers, spare change and some clothes. While Higuruma looked frantically for something to wrap around his neck in the cold — a beaten up old yellow shawl all weaved in sunflower patterns he received as a gift from his grandmother —, his phone rang.

Using a makeshift bluetooth haphazardly rigged up to the radio, Higuruma answered the call while twisting his arm beside the passenger seat.

“Hello, who is this?”

“It’s Kento, good morning.”

“Morning. May I ask why such an early call?” Higuruma asked with a strained voice while he dove down his seat, a hand reaching between the passenger seat and the handbrake.

“It’s not early. Actually, I thought I’d find you at the campus, but since you weren’t in the teacher’s lounge, I’m calling.”

“Oh, I’m just… late,” Higuruma muttered under a tense breath, still bending himself over while prying his scarf out of its death trap underneath the seat beside him.

“I figured that much. Are you on your way?”

“Kind of.”

Nanami found that reply to be suspicious, especially considering his friend’s usual antics.

“… Did your car break down again?” Nanami asked with a hint of judgement to his inquiry. If the Toyota Passo had a hater club, Nanami would be its president, especially considering all the times he found himself stranded with Higuruma by roadsides while on past trips. This was the main reason Nanami would never be caught dead taking a ride with his best friend nowadays if he could help it.

“Shh, don’t say that. It can hear you,” Higuruma chastised while half joking, being more acquainted with Murphy’s Law than he’d like to admit. It had turned him into a somewhat superstitions man, at least when it came to the Passo.

“Hiromi, that’s not how cars work.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” he quipped. Hearing Nanami sigh on the other side of the line was an amusement that served him some semblance of comfort as he battled his way through his current predicament. “Now, what did you want to speak to me about anyway?” 

Hitting just the right slant, Higuruma felt the already familiar wool-weaved pattern on the tips of his fingers.

“Well, it’s about what I told you last Friday,” Nanami ensued.

“Go on.”

As Higuruma contorted his limbs and spine on the driver’s seat in some sort of malevolent pilates while searching for a better position to pull his shawl up, he slowly elevated his arm with a firm grip on the thing, doing his best to not have it tangle on its way out. 

“We’ve allocated some revenue to open more departments in the Firm, and to make some changes to others. I’d like your input, if at all possible.”

Higuruma’s tie contracted uncomfortably around his neck with every wiggle his body made, prompting him to pull around it in a feeble attempt to not have his windpipe crushed. It worked, but barely, messing up his already disarrayed outfit even further.

“My input?” he asked, taken aback while adjusting himself in his seat. “I mean, I’d like to help, but I don’t know if my input is what you’re looking for. I didn’t have that many years of experience as a private lawyer.”

“But you do have a lot of experience dealing with a team of people working with you, and impossible criminal cases absolutely no one would accept.”

“One intern and one assistant,” Higuruma noted, “and those cases weren’t impossible. No case is, even in our Justice System.”

Nanami smiled softly before replying. “Okay, ‘remarkably challenging lawsuits’, then. In any case, we’re creating a criminal law defense department, and considering your experience, you input would be much appreciated.”

Higuruma managed to haul nearly the entire shawl out of its hideout, but before he could consider himself victorious, it got stuck.

He sighed.

“My input or my participation, Kento?” Higuruma asked, even if it wasn’t an actual question. “I know you. You’re not that smooth when attempting to get me on board for something. I remember all the times you casually mentioned a group project in college — which all coincidentally had themes I was studying in depth at the time — while trying to act all nonchalant about it.” 

Nothing gets past him, Nanami thought to himself at being caught red handed.

“Yes, I’d like your participation.”

Higuruma stopped in his tracks, and placed the pulled-up end of the shawl over the passenger’s seat, propping himself up to sit. In silence, he brushed his fingers over his temples, and remained like this for a few seconds, not realizing how his whole body had stiffened up like dried bamboo.

“Kento, I don’t think that’s a good idea, I just…” Higuruma mumbled as he let his forehead lay over the steering wheel.

“Do you trust my judgement?”

Nanami’s question came without missing a beat.

“Of course I do,” Higuruma replied, “I don’t know if I trust myself.”

“Let me worry about that,” Nanami interjected, “I’ve gotten other attorneys on board that can work with us. With you.”

With an uncertain hum, Higuruma cleared his throat.

“I’m… late. I should get going. And sort my damn scarf situation. It’s awfully cold today.”

“That hideous little thing with the sunflowers?” Nanami’s disdain was evident, and Higuruma chuckled.

“Morning, Kento.”

With that, the Professor ended the call, and put his whole mind to solving his current dilemma.

As a final Hail Mary, Higuruma held all he managed to pry out with a firm grip, and slowly descended his other hand, feeling his way over the piece in an attempt to find whatever was hooking it.

Quickly enough, his fingers met something else entirely. It had a softer texture, almost like old frizzly, worn out cotton.

Well, I think I’ve found the culprit.

With a careful tug, he pulled everything out, and a snaky, crimson, polka dot fuzzy worm surprised him. Upon further inspection, Higuruma realized that such horrid sight was actually your ugly red scarf entwined with his sunflower shawl.

This… what? How did her scarf end up here? 

Blinking once, then twice, the Professor found himself still completely dumbfounded. For a moment, Higuruma wondered if this was all a figment of his imagination. That is, until he recalled last Friday, and remembered you used your scarf to pat him dry after an accidental alcoholic skin care routine.

Out of all the things I could’ve picked up by accident, this is what I got? This hideous little thing? 

He snorted at the red polka dot scarf while holding it with the tips of his fingers, wondering if you’d really care to have this back.

Smiling to himself, Higuruma remembered the exchange, your laughter, and his eyes slid towards the cigarette butt from that day. It was currently shoved into the ashtray he kept right in front of his handbrake.

He noticed there was still a faint red stain around it. Against his better judgement, his mind wandered for a moment as he reminisced on the occasion, and how smoking that cigarette left a soft tinted smudge on his lips too, one that he noticed upon arriving home that night and looking at himself in his elevator’s mirror.

I… really shouldn’t. 

Shaking the thought away, Higuruma mindlessly spoke to himself as he turned the engine on.

“I have to give this back to her.”

If only his memory didn’t betray him just like his car — more often than not.

After an uneventful drive, Higuruma stood in front of the white board ready to resume his criminal procedure class as all of the students made their way into the classroom, including you. 

Picking a seat not too close to the main stage, you noticed that Professor Higuruma had his back turned to the rest of the class as he wrote something on the white board. That day, from what you could tell, he was wearing just a plain white buttoned shirt and linen black slacks, not accounting for a coat and whatever else he had haphazardly tossed over his desk like a ball of garments.

There seemed to be a small red something tangled right under his coat. 

Your dream prickled you in the back of your mind, and you cleared your throat trying to feign off the thoughts.

This is real life, at a real class, and not my Orpheus domain. This is real life… You kept repeating mentally to yourself, like a mantra. Even if his shirt draped perfectly over his shoulders and highlighted his slender build.

I’ll just focus on today’s class and that will get my mind out of the gutter.

Higuruma stepped back from the white board and the word “truth” was written on it. Before you could think anything about today’s main topic, though, he turned around to face the students, and your day just became that much more awkward.

For a second, you couldn't truly believe your eyes.

His tie — which at least wasn’t burgundy, nor satin — was crooked. Actually, truly crooked in the real life of real events during a very much real class.

My life is a bad joke and I’m the punchline.

You straightened your posture in your chair with the sudden piercing, delusional self-awareness that anyone who looked at your face would know telepathically what you were thinking, because your cheeks felt suspiciously warm. You tried brushing your bangs down your face to no avail, and a small lock of hair poked out of it like a sore thumb.

In an attempt to distract yourself from that nonsense, you tried as best as you could to check how Higuruma was looking like today — apart from the crooked tie, that was — and noticed his hair was more disheveled than usual. It seemed like he hadn't shaved for at least two days.

Finally, Higuruma ensued his grand introductory lecture on the value of truth for criminal proceedings, and you were actually listening to it.

Good. Deja vu is not Deja-vuing enough. I’m fine. This is fine.

“Truth. Who can tell me the three main concepts of truth in western philosophy?” Higuruma asked while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You saw a familiar hand raising in the very front row, and Higuruma nodded for the person to proceed. 

“The three main concepts of truth are the correspondence, coherence and consensus ones,” Megumi answered. 

“Exactly. The relevance of truth in legal proceedings has been an ongoing debate for centuries, and some lines of thought even consider it to be completely irrelevant. We won’t be tackling that. For those who think truth is important, the most well established position is that truth as correspondence is the one we should strive for, even if our true knowledge of facts that occurred in the past through evidence can be, at best, approximate.”

A few people nodded, and Higuruma continued his exposition.

“Truth as correspondence… In simple terms, a statement can be considered to be true if it corresponds to a fact that has happened in the real world. For example, by this, if I say ‘today I was at class at the inhumane time of 07:05AM’, and here we are at that very same time, it means my statement is true. In criminal proceedings, the truth finding task revolves around verifying if a crime has occurred or not, and in order to do such verification, we need evidence,” he paused for a moment and pulled a bottle of water from his briefcase, carefully putting it over his desk, “and one of the main types of evidence in criminal proceedings are witnesses’ testimonies.”

You were able to follow his exposition so far, and not get distracted by the crooked black ti-

Exposition. Truth. Witnesses. Focus, woman.

You could still feel the lingering sensation of his dreamt tie in between your fingers, and it wasn’t doing you any favors.

“What is a testimony? A testimony is basically someone’s account of an event they have witnessed, and formed a memory of through their senses — sight, hearing, etc. In that regard, it’s safe to say testimonies are a type of evidence that depends on memory, and human memory is fallible. What we can apprehend through our senses and actually remember is deeply affected by what we can or choose to focus on,” Higuruma concluded. 

Your eyes involuntarily dropped to his tie once again. 

Goddammit.

The class was considerably peaceful so far, and you wondered if he would require a victim for his usual slaughter sessions. It would certainly serve the purpose of getting your mind out of your fantasies. Fantasies about running your fingers down the fabric of his clothes, clutching them, crumpling everything in the messiest-

“You.” 

His voice fished you out of your daydreams and into the very much real and concrete reality presenting itself. Subconsciously — involuntarily, perhaps — his finger pointed in your direction, and you knew you’d be the prey for that class’ expository capers.

“Please, step forward,” Higuruma asked as he stood beside his desk.

You did like you were told, as a robot would, and walked in his direction, ready for whatever insanity he had to throw your way this time. Perhaps a marker for the white board. Or the water bottle.

“So,” Higuruma proceeded, “we need police to retrieve information from people that may have witnessed a crime in order to investigate it. That’s usually how investigations begin.” He quickly paused to check if everyone was following, and resumed his explanation, “after the investigation is completed and someone is actually charged or indicted, these same people, the witnesses, will be asked to repeat what they told to police right in front of the judge or a jury. The main question is… how reliable is that initial information relayed to the police at the beginning of it all? How reliable are these testimonies that give the very foundation for a criminal proceeding to exist in the first place?” 

You didn’t know the answer to that question. You knew nothing, really, staring dumbly at your feet while trying to not make a fool out of yourself.

 Before you knew, Higuruma grabbed the water bottle that was on top of his desk and approached you. When he was about a foot away from you, his cologne seeped into every neuron dedicated to smelling you had inside your nostril. Musky, fresh, and-

I can’t deal with this.

You tried fixating your eyes on the bottle of water he seemed to be giving you — anything but his face, his eyes, his nose.

His tie.

When you touched the bottle, he retreated it, and you felt somewhat confused. Then, he leaned it towards you again, you tried grabbing it again, and he retreated it once more. 

Is he teasing? What… what is he doing?

“Do you guys see where I’m getting at?” Higuruma asked, pointing towards the water bottle.

He was met with silence.

Higuruma then pointed at you, and your focused gaze on the bottle that was damn near boring a hole through it. “This is what we call the ‘focus on the gun effect’. You can all see that so far, her eyes pay more attention to what I’m holding than on any of my features. If this were a gun in a stressful scenario, it would probably only heighten such effect even more.”

Sir, this is a stressful scenario.

Your eyes flickered to his tie right before landing on the bottle again, and he did notice your gaze wondering elsewhere, but didn’t think much of it. 

“So at the moment she’d be testifying and was asked to describe my features, how well do you all think she’d be able to do it, if she hasn’t paid any attention to my face, focusing only on object I was holding? How trustworthy would such a testimony actually be?”

Tired hangdog eyes, aquiline nose, thick black frame glasses, white dress shirt crumpled at the hem, loosened black tie crooked to the right, criminally good-looking forearms, black linen pants-

“You can go back to your seat,” he remarked, and you did your best not to stumble on your way back.

The rest of the class went on painlessly, and by the end, Higuruma sat at his desk, lumbering back on his chair. He pushed aside the bundle of coat-and-other-stuff-in-a-ball, took his briefcase and opened it up to grab a pile of paper sheets from it. Upon further inspection, you gulped, knowing full well what those were.

“Before you all go, for those who are also my criminal law students, please come by my desk and take your corrected exams with you.  Give some special attention to the questions you got wrong, I made a list of the most common mistakes in these and will start off our next criminal law lesson by correcting them with the class.”

Shortly after, a line formed in front of Higuruma’s desk, and one by one, each student took their exams in their hands, either grunting displeased or sighing relieved with their result, leaving the classroom subsequently. You occupied yourself with slowly putting your things into your backpack, knowing full well that the walk towards that exam — and how poorly you did in it — would feel like a walk of shame. Only after the line was nearly done that you actually made your way to it, dragging your feet each step closer to what felt like doom.

“Good morning, Professor,” you mumbled as you reached for your exam and picked it up.

“Good morning,” he offered, bowing his head.

For the lack of a better term, your exam sheet looked like a crime scene, completely scribbled with red pen ink all over it. The discontent in your expression must’ve been incredibly evident, because Higuruma  spoke immediately.

“You know, these tests don’t truly assess your actual knowledge of a subject. Not entirely. It’s also about knowing how to take the test, and how the questions are phrased.”

You nodded half-heartedly. 

“Mm-mhm, I know. I just… I felt like nearly every question here could have-”

“Two answers?” He promptly interjected.

“Yes!”

He acquiesced.

“In criminal law, most things are determined by which line of thought one chooses to interpret a topic. You were not the only student to struggle with this, don’t worry. It’s easier to learn how to take a test than to learn the actual subject,” Higuruma offered, and as you looked at him, he welcomed your gaze with a soft smile.

“Is it?” you inquired, shoving the sheet of paper into your backpack. You looked back at him, and your eyes involuntarily dipped towards his tie. You averted your gaze while silently coughing. 

My future is on the line and here I am obsessing over a stupid tie. God.

He lifted a brow, intrigued, and continued.

“Absolutely,” Higuruma said, “you see, these types of standardized tests are terrible. Take a look on question number 15, the one about excess in self-defense.”

“Oh, I remember that one! The question in which guy 1 killed guy 2 through choking because guy 2 tried to kill him first with a sharp object but dropped it accidentally, right?”

“That one.”

“I was unsure, because even though he ended up killing guy 2, to be a target of an attempted murder must be horribly stressful. I mean, with all the adrenaline and everything, sometimes the body just reacts by itself, and the person is not even thinking.”

“Exactly!” Higuruma responded, clearly getting excited by this little exercise, “but the ‘right’ answer was that it was an excess in self-defense, because given the method — choking —, he could’ve ’stopped at any time’. Could he, though? Shouldn’t that be up for debate instead of…” The Professor took the list of answers and shook it in his hand, “this?”

He looks so adorable when talking passionately like th- stop. 

You shook your head before continuing.

“Yes, I agree. However, there’s not much we can do other than learn how to take these exams in order to get to where we want to, right?”

Your voice sounded more disheartened than you thought it would, and your self-disappointment dripped from it in a saddened cadence. You looked like a cornered animal who had just accepted its fate. Higuruma noticed it, and looked the other way to take a moment before speaking again, mindlessly tugging around his already loosened tie. It seemed like it could fall from his neck anytime soon.

Jesus Christ Almighty, can you stop fidgeting with the thing already? You brushed your face in quiet discomfort, and he barely noticed it, too immersed into whatever he had simmering in his mind.

“The main thing is… I just hope you and the other students don’t think less of yourselves because of this short assessment test,” he stated, “college shouldn’t kill the hearts of people who have dreams just because the way it works is not suited for everybody from the get go.”

What he said touched some deeper part of you, one you weren’t usually much in contact with. You stood there silently letting his words sink in, and curiously, they did have some tranquilizing effect of sorts. It must’ve been a while, because Higuruma looked at you with confused eyes when you finally snapped out of it.

“Is everything okay, San-…” he coughed, “I mean… are you alright?”

Pulling yourself together, you drew in a breath before you replied. Once more, you slotted your hands through your hair and his eyes involuntarily peeped over your pseudo ahoge in your bangs before landing on your face again.

“Yes. It’s just what you said about dreams,” you began, “I was worried that this test would nuke my future dream of becoming a criminal defense lawyer, but… I doesn’t quite feel like it now, somehow? It feels like not all is lost, it’s just an exam.”

Higuruma listened to you attentively before sparing you a modest smile.

“I suppose so. We are allowed to falter and make mistakes, especially here, in a classroom. You’re here to learn, after all.”

You nodded.

“Thank you, Professor. Truly. Your words have really helped me,” you stated, not realizing the smile  all over your face in a beam while you bowed towards him, “and for whatever it’s worth, your classes inspire me even more to chase my dreams. You are an amazing teacher.”

Higuruma seemed surprised and retributed the gesture, bowing his head towards you, his own cheeks pooling a soft pink.

“It’s my honor and privilege to teach you all, and I hope you get to realize your dreams in the future.”

You sighed content, and you both remained silent for a short while. Considering the conversation was already done, you bid him a “bye” and turned on your heels to leave the classroom, but his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hm, may I ask something?” Higuruma inquired.

“Of course, Professor. What is it?”

“You kept looking at something on me, is my shirt dirty or something like that?” he asked, trying to look down and assess his state.

Your ears went deaf for a second with the blood rush from your thumping heart at the realization he had, indeed, noticed your stupid obsession. And for a split second, you wondered if you should explain it. The dream flashed through your mind, and better not obviously was the answer you arrived at.

“Ah, uh… your tie, it’s crooked, and- yeah, it’s just crooked. That’s it. I tend to notice these things,” you blurted out, letting each syllable tumble over the other carelessly. You did your best to pretend you were scratching your nose, just so you could hide the small flush you felt over your face.

Whatta’ lousy liar am I. 

“Oh.” Higuruma gently glided his fingers over his tie, and tightened it slightly around his neck, “thank you for letting me know, but I figure that’s okay. My crooked tie has not prevented me from teaching today, or my students from learning, I presume,” he jested, and you acquiesced trying to hold down a chuckle unrelated to his lukewarm joke.

“Well, thank you for the talk, Professor. Have a good day!” you said, finally making your way out the classroom.

The door closed behind you, and instead of getting up immediately, Higuruma found himself still caught up in the conversation you both just had, being brought back to his old memories, his own old dreams and how he had once lived them in the past before everything went wrong. It felt like eons ago.

 The Professor pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up his chat Nanami, thinking back on their earlier conversation.

“Dreams, huh?” a lonely Higuruma mused before typing, failing to realize he had been softly smiling to himself for the past minute.

HH: Kento, if you’re really going forward with this idea, you should put up a notice for an intern opening

NK: Already did, for two positions actually.

NK: Did you think about what we discussed earlier?

Sighing to himself, Higuruma finally got up, stretching his legs and arms as if he had been sunk in it for millennia. He picked his briefcase up in one hand, and pulled his coat with the other. As he did so, your red scarf fell on his desk beside his shawl, and Higuruma realized how human memory, more often than not, was indeed pretty fallible.

“Argh, dammit.”

PT. II WILL GET POSTED ON DEC 26TH

I had completely forgotten to feature this amazing fanart of chapter 1 (that I’ve already screeched about like a banshee on more than one occasion) when I posted chapter 2. Traffi, as always, this is STUNNING, I JUS- Thank you 🥹

all credits for this amazing art go to @traffi -

Tag list (updated):

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @markleeisdabestdrug @redlikerozez @killerplink

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @cmdrfupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider 

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @yeonjunarchives

@soft--cherry @bsaeshell @quinnyundertow @traffi @shibataimu

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

🎄 Hallmark Christmas Movie AU Part 3 🎄

(part 1) ❄️(part 2)

At this point in the script, we need Simon/his family/the town to face some kind of problem that Wille can help solve in a way that doesn’t rely on his royal status, lets him spend more time with Simon and helps him understand what he’s really passionate about. So what I’m thinking is that Simon’s school or maybe the town community centre is putting on a Christmas play. Actually it’s probably a musical so Simon is very involved. It’s an annual thing that the town is completely obsessed with. It’s not Christmas without it, basically. But now there’s a problem: the beautiful hand-painted scenery flats they always use got damaged somehow (Hallmark Force Majeure) and they’re unusable. Everyone is devastated; the flats are a classic and everybody loves them. They can do the play without them but it just won’t be the same. Nobody is available to paint new ones at such short notice. Except a certain prince who is there on holiday so he has nothing to do besides make eyes at his crush and who took up painting some years ago as a way to calm his anxiety.

So Wille offers to repaint the flats. Mostly he wants to impress Simon and spend more time with him, but he also really likes the thought of being actually useful. I don’t know how long it would take in real life but in fantasy world it takes exactly the amount of time they have. Simon keeps him company whenever he can and enjoys watching him paint and the cute little frown he has on his face when he’s concentrating. They talk and joke and flirt and get to know each other better. Wille thinks that he should probably be trying to protect his heart because he knows that this can never be anything more than a little holiday romance – someone as wonderful as Simon doesn’t belong in his dreary life. But he knows that it’s a lost cause. He’s falling hard and fast and there’s no stopping it, so he decides to just enjoy it while he can.

As Wille paints, at first he’s trying to copy the old flats based on photos, but then he gets ideas for changes and improvements. He doesn’t think he should do that, though; it’s a tradition and he shouldn’t break it. But Simon encourages him to be creative and just do what he feels is right, and Wille finds that he’s really enjoying the process. (See, it’s a metaphor! We are not in a subtle genre.)

And you can guess what happens. At some point Wille gets some paint on his face and Simon tries to wipe it off. They were laughing about something just a second ago but suddenly they’re not. Simon’s thumb brushes over Wille’s cheekbone, smearing the paint. Wille’s nose nudges Simon’s, and their lips finally meet in a kiss that’s been days in the making. It’s soft and brief. They break apart to check in with each other, grin, and the next thing Wille knows is he’s dropping the paint brush and pulling Simon closer, closer, closer.

Simon ends up with paint on the back of his shirt and in his hair, but he doesn’t mind.

[cottonlemonade]

Secret Santa

word count: 1153 || avg. reading time: 5 mins

pairing: University AU!Ennoshita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: Hello 💖💖💖 At breakfast and lunch I'll get a 15 and 34 and then going back to study with Ennoshita, please??? Thank you 💖 || fluffy, crush to boyfriend Ennoshita, being part of the same club and celebrating Christmas together

There were pros and cons to spending Christmas abroad. The pros were that your family understood that shipping presents to them as a student would cost way too much so you agreed to only exchange cards this year - you had handmade yours and posted them weeks ago so they would arrive on time and could now bask in the unhurried coziness of late-December. Furthermore, Christmas in Japan was considered a couple’s holiday meaning you didn’t have to wistfully watch all your fellow students rush home over winter break to stuff themselves with all the holiday classics. But the lack of ever-present, sickeningly sweet merriment was also your main con.

You loved Christmas and wanted to get into the spirit and thus, after ditching your drama troupe at the convenience store, you snuck back into the campus theater on Friday afternoon to decorate before the premiere on Christmas Eve.

In your opinion, the bottom of the stage as well as the crammed backstage space was definitely in need of some paper garlands and maybe a bauble or two - or twenty.

“There you are.”

You spun around, your chubby fingers tangled in some fairy lights, and saw your stage manager Ennoshita walk down the aisle towards you.

“I was wondering where you hurried off to so suspiciously.”

You gave a playful pout and continued fiddling with a knot in the cable that somehow only seemed to make it worse.

“Please don’t make me take it down. I’ve come too far.”

He chuckled and shrugged off his backpack and jacket to set on a seat, then rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and looked at you with the same expectantly lost expression you usually gave him when you forgot your place.

You handed him a box of tinsel and he got to work.

“So, why the sudden need to Winter Wonderland the stage? Are you homesick?”

Leave it to him to read you like a book.

“Yeah. Kinda. But I dunno, it’s less homesickness than more… general… nostalgic yearning, if that makes sense.”

He nodded as he distributed strings of gold all along the green garlands.

“I’ve never left Japan and I don’t even know what it would feel like to miss my family since they live so close. Plus, I can’t imagine I would miss my little brother that much.”

His dry tone made you laugh.

“It’s more so that I miss the Christmas experience.”, you explained, “The food, the singing, the gift exchanging. Or going ice skating. I’ve never been but always wanted to. And then later listen to my mom and grandma gossip over a late-night cup of tea.”

You finally managed to free a few small light bulbs only to immediately encounter another knot.

“I was thinking of suggesting something cheesy like Secret Santa to the troupe but I didn’t want to pressure anyone. Plus, what if you get someone who you don’t like or even worse, someone you do like and then have to get them a super crappy gift so they don’t know that you’re into them.”

He cocked a brow. “Is that … is that a possibility?”

“Of course! We’re all one awkward yet iconic New Year’s party away from being the cast of High School Musical.”

“No, I meant, you like someone?”

For a split second you considered confessing to him right then and there that ever since you’d seen him goof off during dress rehearsals of the summer play you’d been drooling over those soft sweaters he wore and dreamily doodled his name into your notepads. But the fact that he was still busying himself with the tinsel and didn’t look at you with pining hopeful eyes made you think better of it. Realizing your pause had been going on for quite some time you opted for a simple No. And then ruined it immediately by adding, “Imagine how weird it would be if I was. Hello waiter, could I have a plate of sweet and spicy daydreams with a side of delusions, please? - hehe ahem. W-why do you ask? Do you like someone?”

“Yes, I do.”

On the one hand, you were grateful that apparently all the time you spent together already had made him immune to your ramblings but on the other hand that sounded a bit too casual and came out a bit too fast. You squinted at him.

“Uh huuuh, anyone I know? Is it someone in the club?”

He hesitated, then continued his task. “Yes and yes.”

“Oh okay, didn’t think you’d give that up so easily. Have you told them yet?”

He shook his head and you wouldn’t be you without giving unsolicited advice, “Well there’s no time like Christmas to do so, if you ask me. New Year’s break is coming up so even if it goes south - which it won’t unless they're an idiot - you don’t have to see them for a bit and can come back pretending like nothing ever happened. Foolproof.”

“Foolproof, huh?”, Ennoshita had reached the end of his tinseling and smiled at you, “I’ll think about it.”

The premiere a few days later was a smashing success and the applause kept on going for many extra curtain calls. When Ennoshita hurried on stage to receive his portion of cheers, he came to stand next to you, naturally grabbing your hand for a collective bow which sent tingles through your body. Filled with the rush of a job well done you only realized once you were backstage again that you were still holding his hand and dropped it like a hot potato.

“I’m sorry!”

He just smiled and shrugged. “No worries. You should go get changed so we can all head to dinner.”

“Yes! Yes. You’re right. Imma be so fast. Be right back.” And with that display of poise, you snatched your backpack and rushed to the bathrooms.

Other girls were already removing their stage makeup and applying new dewy lip gloss while you slipped into a stall to peel yourself out of your costume, relieved when you rolled the skintight overall past your squishy tummy and took your first deep breath in hours. When you opened the flap of your shoulder bag to get your clothes you saw a little box sitting on top, wrapped in red and green with a small golden bow. A tag hung from the knot that read - For Y/n, From Your Secret Santa. The relaxed chatter of the other bathroom occupants was drowned out by the pounding in your chest and your body practically vibrated from excitement. You sat on the lid of the toilet and curiously opened the gift to find a silver keychain with a pair of ice skates dangling from the end. A neatly written paper slip lay underneath.

Will you go out with me? was penned on it in a handwriting you were all too familiar with from your many many stage directions.

a/n: request for @ennoshitas-princess

Thank you so much for this fun holiday themed request! I hope you enjoyed it! 🌟 and merry Christmas!

[yukioos]

HIIII can u write a wrestling! leon one shot?? where he and his college team are on the way to a tournament and they have to stop at the gas station to fuel up and whatever and readers family owns the station and when he sees her it’s like love at first sight (if you’re comfortable with it, can u make it suggestive?)

MALBORO NIGHTS

SUMMARY: leon is on his way to a wrestling tournament when he stops at the gas station for some snacks. he encounters you, a worker, and things turn into a hot mess.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! i don’t know a lot about wrestling so i had to research a bit on the topic. sorry if i got some information wrong!

WARNINGS: suggestive!! modern au, leon’s fear of failure and embarrassment, kinda sexual thoughts from leon but he feels bad about it, making out, reader and leon are both consenting adults, not proofread

leon’s wrestling team had won their conference tournament and now had to travel across the country to another tournament. this time, it was national. he had already flown across the country to another state with his teammates. they stayed in a hotel for a couple of nights, extending their visit to explore the state and its historical sites.

but when the morning came, and he had to travel to the venue, he surprisingly wasn’t nervous. it wasn’t unlike any of his other tournaments, and he was confident he will win. despite his young age, he was one of the best on the team.

the one thing he hated about traveling across the country for a tournament was the people. having to appear all mighty, strong, and perfect made him freeze in his tracks, and his stomach would flip. he was fine when he was just around his teammates, hell, when he was with them, it was a judgment-free zone.

even as he and his teammates packed up and brought their bags, laid them in a bus, and drove to the venue, he couldn’t ignore the agonizing feeling. he didn’t want to be embarrassed, and he didn’t want to fail in front of thousands of people! and as much as he loved seeing people do good at something they liked, he despised seeing people do better than him at wrestling.

wrestling was his sport, his passion. he claimed he’d lose his sense of self and confidence without it. but of course, chris always told him he’d be the same person with or without the wrestling.

despite his dreading feeling in his stomach, he talked with chris the whole ride. even as hours passed on the bus, even as chatter died down then people wouldn’t stop talking, he always had him by his side. leon admitted, chris always found a way to make him feel better.

leon’s chuckles become silenced once the driver announces, “alright, we’re gonna have to stop by a gas station of some sort! fuel’s gettin’ low!”

groans erupt from the rows of seats, and chatter fills his ears. many complaints are heard from his teammates around him, and even chris rolls his eyes at the announcement.

leon glances around the bus, seeing nothing but roads, cars, and trees for miles. he then shouts to chris, over the loud noises, “we’ll be fine. the tournament can’t start without us!”

he responds and continues ranting, “yeah, you’re probably right. better not start the tournament without us—“

minutes pass, and the bus suddenly halts to a stop. leon glanced out the window to see a gas station, remembering the bus is low on fuel. he feels a tap on his shoulder, so he turns around.

“leon, chris, i, and three other guys are gonna head into the store while the bus driver’s fillin’ up the tank. wanna come with?” carlos asks, smiling at the blonde and brunette.

leon doesn’t waste a second as he begins agreeing, commenting on how sitting in his ass for so long hurts. chris bellowed, and carlos said the same as they walked off the bus and into the store.

the six men split up to find snacks for their teammates, wandering around the isles to find their desired candy or chips. leon’s feet stomp against the red and white tiles. he settles on a protein bar, a bag of skittles, and a bottle of water for the trip. he then travels around the store to find more snacks for his teammates then calls out for his brunette friend.

chris quickly responds, “yeah?”

the blonde nods to the register, “you ready?”

a smirk appears on the brunette’s face, and leon looks puzzled. he asks what he’s smirking about, and turns around to see what gained chris’ attention.

there you stand, sucking on a lollipop as you meticulously flip through the pages of a thick book. your light pink nails came up to the lollipop stick every couple of seconds, popping it out of your mouth and wrapping your lips against it again. of course, you aren’t aware of your effect on the blonde wrestler standing many feet away from you.

leon begins to slouch and tries to shrink his frame. he nervously comments, “i don’t feel like going up to the register—“

he yelps when chris grabs him by the hood and pushes him to you, muting his protests as he tries to not any of the snacks. he shakes his head with wide eyes, then is suddenly met face-to-face with you and your book.

chris grins, teeth shining, “hey, leon, can you check these out for me? i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” chris taunts, winking as he pulls cash from his wallet.

he places it on top of leon’s snacks, held in his arms, all while dropping his items on the counter. leon’s cheeks warm up, and he hears his heart beating fast.

when you look up at him, he gives a lovesick smile. your eyes are the most beautiful he’s ever seen. the way you’re looking at him with a sultry smile causes him to nervously glance at the floor, unable to hold eye contact. once he

you take the items from the counter and scan them, starting up a conversation, “seems like there’s a whole lot of people out there,” referencing to the loud noises from the bus, “are you with them?”

leon’s eyes widen, and he fidgets with his fingers. his throat tightens, and he stutters, “oh— oh, um, yeah. i’m with them. we’re heading over to a wrestling tournament a few hours away.”

you pause in your tracks, not scanning the items anymore. he’s a wrestler? well, it does make sense. he looks incredibly muscular and well-built, but you have to admit, he is the finest man you’ve ever seen.

you notice he starts to appear nervous when you stare at him, so you continue placing the items in a bag and ask, “where are you coming from?” afterward, you place your hands on the counter in front of you and look up at the blonde.

leon blushes at your sudden change of position and your interest in learning more about him. he glances down at you more, gulping when he sees a peek of your cleavage. he loses his train of thought and forgets all about your question.

he begins to observe you, your shirt doesn’t fully cover your shoulder, and your bra strap peeks out. the way your heart necklace rests perfectly on your chest drives him crazy. your eyes have a certain glint in them, a seductive one.

you tilt your head, smirking as you realize he’s analyzing everything about you. he must’ve noticed your smile because he finally answers your question, “raccoon city—“

you roll your eyes and grab him by his hood, pulling him into a kiss. it’s almost as if you could read his mind because he was about to slowly lean in. he whimpers, wanting to be closer to you, so he puts his hand over yours on the counter.

your lips push against each other’s, but you pull away, groaning as you’re making out in a public space. you ask, out of breath, “break room?”

he quickly nods and you grab his sleeve, dragging him to the room behind the register. twisting the knob, you gently push him inside, and he feels a surge of confidence, pushing you against the nearby wall. he hadn’t had time to look around. he didn’t care if anyone was watching, he didn’t care that he didn’t know you as well as he wanted to. all he knew was that he needed you, and he needed you now.

he grabs your hip with his large hand, and you pull him in for another kiss. you take a fistful of his blonde hair, and he moans into the kiss. your bodies are heated and burning with anticipation, but you both want more. you know you do.

you raise your leg to his hip, almost wrapping it around his waist. he understands and places his hand on your ass, then picks you up. you wrap both of your legs around his waist, smiling into the kiss. he places you on a table and momentarily breaks away from the kiss.

saliva connects to your lips, and as disgusting as it is, it’s sure as hell hot, and you still want more.

he takes his sweatshirt and his shirt off then mumbles, “is this okay,” gripping your thigh and kissing your neck tenderly.

you gently scratch his scalp and nod, taking your shirt off, leaving only your bra and jeans to view. his abs glisten with sweat, and he leans down again, pushing his warm hand onto your stomach. you lay flat on the table and pull him in closer with your legs.

your lips intertwine and the action intensifies. you both moan, but suddenly you hear a sound that makes you both pause.

“leon, where are ya? we need to go!” a voice shouts.

leon sighs and closes his eyes, laying his head on your chest momentarily. he groans, “fuck,” and you giggle, relishing in how much he wants to continue. his hands still lay on your thighs, a silent reminder of what you were about to do.

you scratch his scalp and neck, then, with your other hand, you pick up your phone. you open the contacts app and tap his cheek, causing him to look up at you.

his cheeks and lips are red, both flushed and hot. his eyes look tired and begging, he wants more but needs to get to his tournament.

he grabs your phone and enters his phone number and his name. he then grumbles, “promise i’ll be back after the tournament.”

he picks up his clothes and your shirt, placing it on your lap. once he’s done dressing, you place your hand on his chest, “take the snacks for free. it’s on me.”

he opens his mouth to interject, but you shake your head and guide him to the register, “don’t forget to win, ‘kay? you’ll do great.”

he smiles and smoothens your messy hair, agreeing, “i’ll do my best. i’ll text you right after.”

you look up and tilt your head again, slowly standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck. you gently place your lips on his, and it’s much more relaxed and loving than before.

but leon hears another call of his name, and he kisses you back. he smiles and walks away, but before he leaves, he yells, “i’ll be back, y/n!”

as he jogs the short distance to the bus, he notices chris standing right outside the entrance to it. the brunette notices his disheveled hair and points it out, “you look like you just got banged,” and walks onto the bus, sitting in their seats next to each other.

he mumbles, “wait,” then his eyes widen. his pearly whites shine, realizing what leon just did.

this was gonna be a long ride.

[crazylittlejester]

Have you explained how Time and Malon met in your modern au?

(this is an invitation to yap cause I love them)

I dont think i have!!

They met in a lot of different ways, they’d run into each other several times before they actually got to know each other

When Time was ten he officially lost his bad eye and it took him a while to adjust to seeing with one eye and he bumped into Malon at a grocery store (like physically ran into her) because she was running through the aisles looking for her dad. Time helped her find him before going off to find his siblings who he’d come there with

They met again when they were 12 in a park. Time was having a rough time with health issues and he’d run off to sit at the park and watch the geese and Malon was there with her dad and recognized him and came to bother him. She has no idea her being kind to him like that gave him a reason to go back home and eat dinner instead of staying at the lake for who knows how long

They went to high school together and ofc recognized each other, and while they weren’t best friends or even really friend friends, more so acquaintances, they did talk, and they learned each other’s names (Time wasn’t in school a whole lot, in fact he had to keep arguing with his dad to let him keep going to school because he’d end up missing at LEAST one day a week, and he didn’t really make any friends in high school)

Malon ran into him AGAIN when they were 20 at a place she NEVER expected to find him, she’d been dragged by a friend of her’s to see a band play some covers of popular songs because her friend knew someone in the band and that is how Malon learned Time can SERIOUSLY play the guitar. she talked to him afterwards like “dude what the fuck” and she’d always wanted to get to know him better (SHE wouldve considered them friends in high school, Time didn’t realize she cared about him that much) so they talked for a bit and just really clicked. they were friends for years and they were together by the time they were 23, married by 25, and acquired Twilight at 26, and now they’ve been happily married 21 years after first meeting each other 36 years ago

It was truly a case of right person wrong time and they kept bumping into each other until it WAS the right time

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 10 [Mack x David]

A/N: This wedding is so perfectly Mack and David. The location, the people, THE VOWS, the party, the softness. But mostly in the way they turn into each other during the quiet or big moments. UGH! I always love an AU wedding chapter. & this one has found it's way to the top!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: There is a brief moment of mature content in here. Because it isn't super flushed out, I'm not putting the sticker on. But if ANY mentions of sex make you uncomfy, don't continue below.

In the center of the room, a big ceiling fan swirls lazily overhead trying to move the thick, Caribbean air in the bridal room. Beneath the fan sits Mack’s bridesmaids- Lucie, Sophie, and Livy- along with her auntie Emma, her mom, Lexi, and Savannah, her cousin’s fiancé. The group of girls gabs excitedly as the finishing touches of powder are dotted on Mack’s forehead and under eyes.

“Okay, just sit there. Let’s see how that holds up.” The make up artist murmurs.

Mack is the last one to be ready because her hair took so long to curl. Plus her make up has tried to melt off her face with each layer. Things she forgot to consider when choosing their wedding venue. Overall, nothing about getting ready is going well, including the underwhelmed feeling she had when her dress came out of the garment bag. It’s fine. Just fine. Not anything like what the perfect man down the hall deserves.

Mack looks down at her folded hands and the diamonds of her engagement ring. Soon a simple platinum band will rest next to it with her and David’s initials. Is that enough too? Overwhelmed tears begin to blur her fingers together. Ugh, great. If she cries it’s going to be another set back. She swallows hard, willing the tears to cease. A glance over her shoulder reveals the group of girls sipping mimosas and laughing. Her eyes connect with her older sister. Lucie’s smile slowly fades and she cocks her head to the side as if to ask “are you good?”

Mack slaps a smile on her face, nodding. 

“Am I done?” The bride asks the make up artist. After a through examination of her face, she nods.

“Do you want me to touch anything up?” She holds a mirror up. Despite the struggles, Mack’s make up is flawless. Natural with mauve pinks and a burgundy eye crease.

“No. I love it. Thank you.”

Mack stands, then goes to her mom to ask for help with her dress. The room quiets down and everyone watches as Mack gets into her gown. The photographer clicks as Lexi zips her daughter’s dress to the top. Lexi adjusts the straps to lay flat on Mack’s shoulders then looks at her in the massive, full length mirror in front of them.

“You are so beautiful.”

“Davey is so lucky!” Lucie murmurs, getting up and squeezing her little sister. Sophie bounces up too and soon everyone is hugging Mack, making the room feel smaller than it did before. 

“Okay.” Mack mutters uncomfortably. 

“We love you, Mackie!” Liv squeals. “Do you want some champagne?”

“Sure.” Mack agrees. Maybe some alcohol will make her feel better, or take the edge off. 

Instead, the second the alcohol hits her stomach, Mack feels like she is going to barf. Suddenly, the room is too loud- ears feeling like they’re being pierced internally at the laughter and joy. Her body starts to feel incredibly heavy, throat tightening until she can barely swallow.

“Um, can everyone just get out?” Mack blurts over the noise. Once the words are out, she realizes she yelled. All the women in the room stare at her. “Sorry… I need a minute.” She whispers, turning her back on the group.

“Yep.” Lucie immediately answers. “Everyone scoot.” 

All the girls in the room follow the Hischier girls’ commands. Lucie is the last one out. Mack looks over her shoulder at her.

“Can you get him?” Mack asks her older sister pleadingly.

“Yes.” Lucie agrees. 

When the door shuts, Mack tries to breathe but it’s like she can only pull in a third of the oxygen she needs to get through this panic attack. Her nerves have nothing to do with David. She wishes they had eloped to some mountain top or were here by themselves. She feels on display for everyone else's enjoyment and she is not having fun. This is supposed to be fun!? Instead her skin prickles from anxiety, sweat is building already in her hairline and it’s so damn humid her thighs are slick where they rub together. What was she thinking with this silk dress choice?

Mack wants to sit down, but if she does, her dress will be wrinkled the rest of the day. She wants elegant pictures of her and her dad walking down the aisle. A big crease under her hips on either side is not the aesthetic. Instead, she walks over to the various drink choices, carefully pouring herself a glass of ice water. She swallows down a few sips, then blots her lips to preserve her lip stain. 

“Mack?” She hears David call from the door. 

“Come in!”

“Am I looking or no?”

“I don’t care.” She blurts. 

The door cracks open and her big, gorgeous man steps through. The door clicks shut behind him and he stares at her from across the room without a word. His green eyes roam over her. Mack can feel them everywhere, but he doesn't say anything. She looks down at herself then back at him.

“Are you disappointed?”

“Am I… What??” He asks incredulously. His mouth drops slightly open and his eyes rapidly search hers. “Oof, you’re nervous, honey, huh?”

“Yeah. I kinda wanna throw up all over this dress because I hate it now and I loved it before but it’s so hot. I’m so hot, David. I can’t think straight. I’m so out of my element with everyone waiting hand and foot on me. You’re not here with me and I don’t like it.” David chuckles as he walks over to her. HIs hands collect her hips, rubbing circles into the soft fabric.

“First of all, the dress is a ten and you’re a fucking 20. Holy shit. You look… stunning. Like what the hell are you doing marrying me?” A relieved exhale rushes from her lips.

“Stop.” Mack’s shoulders drop about three inches, back to their normal resting position. He instantly knows how to put her at ease. She laughs, holding his chest as he steps forward to nuzzle her face with his. 

“I’m serious. Holy smokes. We better get the officiant in here right now before you change your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind. I just really need a hug from you.”

“Then come here.” He opens his arms for her. Mack drops into his body, soaking up his sweet, happy energy that she has come to crave. Where she is a thunderstorm, he’s the sunshine after the rain. She puts her hand on his chest over his heart, then rests her cheek there to be careful of his white shirt. “Don’t worry about it.” He tells her, peeling her hand away so she can lean fully against him. “I’ve got another one if we need it. My wife is always prepared.”

“I was worried they were going to lose our luggage.” She insists.

“Honey, you have been too worried. I think that’s the problem here. All that’s happening is we are saying some words to each other, putting rings on and smooching.”

“With an audience.”

“With thirty people who love us. And are so thrilled to be here to celebrate.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “You’re right.” She takes in a big inhale, but she is still rigid in his arms. David holds her, gently trailing his fingers over her back. He presses sweet smooches into her curled, brown hair.

“I wanna show you something.” David murmurs, rubbing her back once more before dropping his hands from her. Mack steps back, watching as his fingers go to the buttons on his dress shirt.

“A pre-vow strip tease?” She quirks, wanting to make him laugh too.

“You wish, eh?” He winks, working his way down to the last few buttons. He undoes the buttons on his cuff too. His shirt slips away and Mack sees what he has been hiding for the last week.

“Wha… wow.” She quietly exclaims. Her fingers come up and she runs them around the district, black skeletal hands. Their two hands linked together, thumbs closing together in a heart, with the words “In this life and the next” woven around a banner combining their wrists. Underneath the words is their wedding date in roman numerals. A dark wedding ring sit slumped on the bones at an angle, meant to be hers. “Good thing I didn’t run, huh?” She jokes, then drops her face as she starts to cry. Her head hits his bare chest and he wraps his arms around her again. Mack glides her hand around his bicep, covering the raised ink of his fresh tattoo.

“Been saving that spot for the love of my life.” Mack kisses his chest, following a trail up to the hallow of his throat. “I love you, Mackenzie Hischier. And today is the best day of my life.” 

“Mine too.” She grins then kisses him like he deserves after all the ways he made her feel loved since walking through that door.

Her butterflies are gone. The uneasiness has disappeared from her stomach. Mack is once again grounded in importance and her safe space. Gone is all the worries about little things they won’t remember in 50 years when they’re still married.

All that is left is him. 

“I’m feeling better.” She says. “Thank you.” Mack reaches around to grab the sleeve of his dress shirt. She helps him slide back into it then re-buttons him up except for the top two buttons. “I wanna see some of you when I walk down the aisle.” 

“You’ll be seeing a lot of me right after I get to kiss ya.” He chuckles. “Be ready to go.”

“I’m ready.” She murmurs, grabbing his hand and putting it under her dress. She’s bare. His nostrils flare. 

“Baby… I wish you wouldn’t have…” He sighs. “Actually I don’t. That’s so fucking hot knowing I’m gonna marry you this way. Don’t change a damn thing, okay?”

“Promise.” She murmurs. “Kiss me again. Then go back to whatever boys do before they get married.”

“Lio wants to do shots.”

“I will kill him.” Mack rears back. “Tell him I said that.”

“I’m kidding.” David laughs, then kisses her like she requested. “Mmm, I love you.”

“I love you.” She repeats. After another grab of her bare ass, he leaves the room, confident and secure with each heavy step he takes. Before he shuts the door, he winks at her.

Mack breathes out the breath she feels like she has been holding all day. She smoothes her skirt down. Her eyes go to the stunning turquoise water for a moment, then she goes to invite everyone back into the room. 

It isn’t long before the ceremony music floats down to the bridal suite. All the girls leave again and Nico Hischier is invited in to see his beautiful daughter.

“Sweets, you are exquisite.” He murmurs, reaching a hand out for her. He squeezes her fingers together, then pulls her in for a hug. 

“Probably never saw this day coming, huh?” Mack laughs as they step out of the suite together. Her arm threads easily through his right one. Her other arm carries her bouquet of light pink roses.

“Before David, yeah I thought that.” Nico admits.

“I think you knew he was the one before me.” Mack murmurs, adjusting the collar of his shirt as they pause before the walkway leading to the overlook where her and David will exchange their vows. 

“No. You knew before me, You were just pretending you didn’t. But he was it.” Mack bites her bottom lip, then looks up at him with identical, teary brown eyes. It’s hard to imagine them standing here for this moment without Nico’s advice in Switzerland when Mack ran home.

“He’s the best, isn’t he?” They both laugh as Nico simply nods in agreement.

Yeah, David Carlson is better than anything Nico could have dreamed for his daughter.

Soft cords of Can’t Help Falling In Love begin to play. Nico looks over at Mack who nods that she is ready. So, so ready. Mack and Nico step through the door. Everyone turns to them, but Mack doesn’t even notice. She can’t take her eyes off the man who waits at the end of the aisle. He grins at her- a mega watt smile that could power the island for the night. Tears instantly sting Mack’s eyes. She laughs incredulously, like how is this perfect moment hers? What did she do to deserve this? And can she go back and do it again?

Then, she steps forward with her dad for their most important walk. Two strides in, Mack makes the mistake of looking at her dad who has tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Wow, dad, you could have tried a little harder to keep it together.”

“I should be better at this.” He acknowledges which makes Mack laugh. The motion blinks her tears down her cheeks and she sniffs.

The walk is fast. Guests will joke for years to come that Mack pulled Nico the whole way down. But who could blame her when David looks like that waiting for her. In front of her, Mack swoons at the misty glow of David’s green eyes. He isn’t crying, but his emotional smile has her heart glowing in her chest. He reaches his hand out for Nico to shake. They do so then hug tightly. Nico looks back over at his daughter. She tilts her head and tries to keep it together as she hugs him. Then he puts her hand into David’s.

“I’m not giving her away. She’s doing that herself.” Nico states to both of them. “Exactly like I would expect Mackie to.” David and Mack laugh. Yeah, that absolutely tracks for the independent, free woman she is.

“Her choice.” David nods. Nico steps away after stating he loves them both. 

As he leads her up to the flowered arch, David checks in. 

“You okay, honey?” Mack nods as she turns to face him.

He collects both of her hands in his own, holding them securely in place even though they shake a bit in his grasp. Behind David, Connor, Cody and Trevor stand tall, hands clasped together in front of them. Connor winks at her; Mack scrunches her nose at him then looks away before he makes her laugh. In the front row, her parents sit next to Felix and his wife, Lorena. Felix hasn’t left the U.S. in all the years David has known him. It’s huge that they are here. Today, they sit in a row with two empty seats, honoring the two people David would do anything to have here with them. 

The ceremony begins with an acknowledgement to that. A brief moment of pause for reflection and recognition of the great losses of David’s life. He remains stoic and reserved during the moment. When it’s over, he squeezes her hands and smiles. He wanted to do that, but he was unsure about it too. He didn’t want to start their marriage feeling sad at what he lost when he is gaining an entire family.

Mack and David didn’t want much fan fair in their ceremony, but they knew for sure they wanted to write vows for each other. Mack goes first. She takes in a deep breath, then looks up at him with a smirk.

“For the record, you should know I still hate you.” Everyone laughs. David nods his head, grin stretching his cheeks so wide it looks like it hurts.

“Fair.”

Mack chuckles, then continues.

“I hate how easy you make it to love you. I hate how perfect you are. I hate how much my family is obsessed with you. I hate how you brought me to Iowa and somehow made me love living on a farm? I hate how you know exactly what I am feeling when I wanna hide it all from you. But if you didn’t know, we probably wouldn’t be here.” Mack pauses there. She swallows then takes in another breath.

”You are everything I’ve ever needed. Everything I never wanted to have. But mostly because I never thought I would find something like this. I’ve been called complicated or difficult or aloof my entire life, but you’ve never made me feel that way. You've taken me exactly as I am, flaws and all, and have loved me hard, especially on the days when I didn’t want you to, then extra hard on the days I didn’t deserve it.”

David frowns at that, not liking the putdown on herself, exactly like she thought.

“Because in your eyes, I’m perfect. Nothing to fix, nothing to change. Only different parts that make me more loveable. I see myself that way now. Your love has healed parts of me I thought would never be whole.”

Now he smiles again. 

“I’ve been all over the world to tell stories. I’ve seen love in just about any place on this planet that it can exist. Sometimes it’s self-less, sometimes its hard decisions, sometimes it’s too painful to put into words, but it is always present. It used to make me ache to write these love stories out. But now I see us in every one of them. In the way love sacrifices. In the way it never fully goes away, no matter the distance. And especially in the way it forgives, vowing to be better every day.”

“So that’s my vow to you. To be self-less. To sacrifice for us. To love you in the moments you really need it, but also on the mundane Tuesday mornings. And to never stop leaning into us. So we grow and get better every day.”

“I can’t wait to ride this life out to the finish line with you. I’m so excited for this next chapter for us. I love you. Now and in the next lifetime.” She grabs his bicep where she now knows their tattoo sits, then lets her hand fall back to lace with his fingers. 

David stares at her in awe for several seconds. Then he sighs happily as the officiant hands him is vows. 

“I love you, baby.” He murmurs only to her. “Thank you for that.” 

Mack squeezes his hand then does her best to prepare for what he wants to say to her. 

“I have to say writing vows for a writer is really hard and I almost paid Livy to do it for me.” Again, everyone laughs. “Um, but the reality is that I love you so much, it’s difficult to put words together to describe it, honey. I kept telling myself when I was struggling with this that one day, 10, 20, 30 years from now, I’ll have found the words for you, but I don’t know. Because I find something new to love about you every day. If I’ve got 30 years of that, it’ll take another 30 just for me to get it all out to ya.”

"But that’s my favorite part of all this, how much time we have together. How many more memories we get to make, me and you, that will fill a lifetime of love and joy for each other.” He starts shaking his head. “And I know, that still won’t be enough for me. Instead, I’ll have to find you in the next life, honey. And I’ll love you all over again for the rest of that one too.” Mack whimpers as he folds the paper up. Short, but extraordinary as is David's way.

“I hate how good you are at writing vows even when you think you suck.” She slaps his jacket with her vows. She gestures to him at their wedding guests who clap and laugh loudly. “What the hell…” She mutters just to him. 

“You make me better.” He says simply.

That one sentence could have been both of their vows.

During the rest of the ceremony, David is holding her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. He squeezes her fingers every so often, then kisses her rings as he slips her band on her finger. They may be getting married in front of other people, but truly Mack feels like they are the only ones here. 

When the rings are secured, David pulls Mack close.

“We’re done, yeah?” David asks the officiant, not looking away from his new wife.

“Sure.” The officiant nods. “Go ahead.”

Mack goes up on her tip toes, cupping David’s cheeks as their tongues meet first. It’s a hot, deep, knee weakening kiss that has Mack softening into his chest. David lifts her up. Mack’s knees curl as she laughs into their kiss. 

“My wife.” David murmurs.

“Yours. Mine. Forever.” She agrees, kissing him with each word. David sets her back on her heels. They turn to their guests and smile. Everyone claps and cheers, but Mack and David have their eyes set on the doors leading back into the venue. Mack discards her bouquet on an outside table. When they get inside then their focus is on the hallway, then the bridal suite.

Five minutes into their marriage, David buries himself deep into Mack’s core. He works her up into a feverish rush of desire then shoves her off the cliff into a white hot orgasm that feels different than any one she’s had before. Because this time it’s her husband who fills her up right after. Mack kisses all over his face- lips, jaw, mustache- as he puts her legs back down on the ground.

“So much better as my wife.” He wiggles his black eyebrows at her. Mack can’t stop grinning. Her cheeks already hurt from all the love and smiles she’s had today. But then David leans down and kisses her dimples, clearing all the discomfort away. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She agrees.

Then they walk hand in hand back to where everyone waits for them.

The second Mack and David are visible in the reception doorway, Connor starts yelling.

“My brother!!!!!!!” 

“Oh my god.” Mack laughs as Connor comes sliding over in his dress shoes. David releases her hand and runs towards his D partner.

“Brother!!!” David yells, picking Connor up. They both shake each other around, two big bodies moving awkwardly through the air as they try to express their excitement. 

“You two are such idiots.” Lucie teases. “Congrats, Mackie. I’m so happy for you.” Lucie rubs Mack’s shoulder as she pulls her in for a hug. 

“Thanks, Luc.” 

Her parents are next, followed by her little sister. Then she accepts hugs from the Meiers and of course, Felix and Lorena.

“Mrs. Mackenize.” Felix greets. Mack giggles at the name change. “Good choice keeping your last name. His sucks.” He jerks his hand at David.

“Bet it looks pretty good on your checks, old man.” David grins at Felix, all love for the older man.

“Yes! It goes!” Lorena slaps Felix’s chest. “Thank you both so much for having us here. This is a dream vacation, but we are honored to be here to celebrate your love.”

David and Mack paid their entire way as a thank you for everything the two of them do on the farm, especially while they are in New York for the season. This is the least they could do. Lorena had been telling Mack she couldn’t remember the last vacation they went on. Mack knew what they were going to do instantly. They’re all set up to continue their relaxation for another week, even after the NHL families head back home.

Next are Nico and Lexi who both hold their daughter together.

“We love you. And David is right, you are perfect.” Lexi assures her. “Nothing to change.” Mack blinks two tears down her cheeks. Her parents have never made her feel this way. It’s all been internal turmoil, but just like David, they’ve found ways to soothe and heal her over the years too.

“Thank you.” She whispers then lets them move on to her husband. 

Sophie rushes over, collapsing into Mack’s arms and sighing happily.

“I love you, Mackie! I’m so happy for you.” Sophie looks at her with stunning green eyes, framed by long lashes that make her look innocent and younger than her age. To Mack, she’ll always be five years old, needing help into her Kindergarten classroom. “Let’s drink! Luc!” Sophie calls their other sister over. “Livy! Sav! All the guuuuurls!”

The group of women wanders up to the bar together. They all get glasses of champagne. Then the DJ puts on an absolute banger and they all run away to the dance floor without Mack, who backs out of Sophie’s grip.

“Give me a minute.” She chuckles. 

“ONE!” Sophie yells back then bops her way to the dance floor and immediately starts to drop it low. 

Mack takes a sip of her champagne, then a hand grabs her elbow. She grins, hugging her uncle Timo. 

“My little bully is all grown up. Congratulations, Mack. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Mack hugs him harder. 

“Save me a dance?”

“Always.” She nods, then watches him walk off, handing a glass of champagne to his wife. Mack smiles to herself as they kiss. She’s lucky to have had incredible examples of marriages that last with hard work and two people who try. She hopes her and David can continue to replicate this in their own way.

Mack drifts her gaze across the event, trying to stay present in this moment. This day has been the best one of her life; she meant it when she told David that earlier. It’s the people who are here and the man that she just married and the ocean breeze that blows her curls around her face. She didn’t know it could be this good. 

All she wants for the rest of her life is to keep this. 

All of it.

David’s hand slides around her waist. She does the same to him, resting her head against his chest. They don’t share any words as they watch the part around them.

There are none left to say.

All they can do is soak it all in.

Read more Mack and David here.