#deck nine it's on sight

[ettadunham]

why does horizon zero dawn, a game that came out 7 years ago and only got a PC port in 2020 has a remaster in 2024??? this is absurd.

[infinitelyweary]

Cool good new life is strange trailer!! So glad Max is a Timeline Shifting Detective now!! I can't wait for her to relive the same exact trauma AGAIN but this time instead of a heartfelt exploration of our feelings of powerlessness in the face of loss and coming to terms with the universal reality of death, ITS AN ACTION PACKED RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK TO SOLVE THIS CRAZY TIME MURDER AND CATCH A KILLER BEFORE THEY STRIKE AGAIN IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE WITH HER MAGIC TIME POWERZ WOAAH

[covenofagatha]

The Psychology of Love (Part 16)

The Balcony

Word count: 7.9k

Warnings: thigh riding, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism, mommy kink, fingering, oral sex, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, oral fixation

The other side of the bed is empty when you wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore and sunlight streaming in through the cracked-open blinds on the French doors. 

You groan and stretch and roll over to check the time on the clock sitting on the nightstand. A quarter past nine. You can’t remember the last time you slept through the entire night and woke up this late. 

The plush carpet is soft against your bare feet as you pad across the room to the bathroom. You’re still naked from last night and the sight of the tub makes your cheeks heat up. 

It had started out as you both relaxing there after sex—you laying on Agatha, your back on her front, while you soaked in the warm water. It felt nice for your stiff joints after kneeling on the ground for so long. 

But then Agatha’s left hand had snuck between your legs again and made quick work of the mess between them, two fingers buried inside you with her thumb on your clit. 

She had tilted your head to the side with her other hand and sunk her teeth into the spot right below your jawline on a particularly hard thrust and you had barely gotten “Mommy, can I come?” out of your mouth before you spasmed all over her fingers. Luckily, she said you could. 

Looking in the mirror now, you get a thrill from the marks on your throat and chest and on your inner thighs. You trace over them with a featherlight touch and it makes you shiver. 

Agatha really did a number on you. 

Your toothbrush rests in the holder right next to hers—did you put it there last night?—and it looks like it belongs there. The domesticity of it all tugs at your heartstrings but you push it down and brush your teeth while you examine yourself more in the mirror. 

There’s a certain glow to your skin, a bright sheen in your eyes. You look different, almost. As if having sex with Agatha somehow changed your appearance. Foolishly, you start to worry that other people might notice. 

You spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinse your mouth out. A smirk spreads across your lips when you stand back up straight. 

Part of you hopes they do. 

The duffel bag you packed is still resting on the floor by the closet, right where you dropped it yesterday. You dig through it and find a short, sky blue, silk dress and pull it over your head, not bothering to put anything underneath. It hangs loose from your body, the cowl neck dips low on your chest, and the slight sunburn on your shoulders is visible. 

The clothes you had on yesterday that Agatha threw somewhere in the room as she took them off you are neatly folded on top of the dresser across from the bed. A warm feeling spreads through you and the desire to see your professor becomes too great. 

You open the door to the bedroom and walk out down the small hallway into the living room. Agatha isn’t there or in the kitchen, but the sound of the ocean is much clearer in here. 

It doesn’t take you long to realize why. 

The sliding glass door is slid open, just a bit, and you go toward it and peer through. Agatha is sitting outside in a padded blue deck chair, the breeze tossing her hair over, while she types on her laptop. There’s a stack of papers on the end table next to her. 

She doesn’t look up when you push the door open and step out, but maybe she can’t hear it. The smell of salt hits you while you take in your professor. She’s wearing a white, long-sleeve, button down shirt and jean shorts and your cunt starts to throb just from seeing her. 

Memories of last night whirl around your brain in a blur—Agatha leaning over you while she was fucking you with three fingers, her mouth on your clit, you sucking on her tits, you on your knees for her. 

Mommy’s going to come—oh, fuck—please.

You almost stumble on the wood deck and now she looks up. She gives you an easy smirk that turns hungry once she takes you all in. 

“Good morning, honey,” she purrs. You murmur it back to her. 

The balcony is set up well with two of the chairs like the one Agatha’s sitting in, a small table in front of her and two matching end tables on each side of a chair, and a gray knit rug underneath. 

You could sit in the chair beside her, but you walk in front of her and carefully sit criss-cross on the rug, facing the ocean, and you rest your cheek against the outside of her right thigh. 

A quick glance up at her laptop shows a gradebook, and you see your name, along with others that must be your classmates. 

Agatha’s hand strokes through your hair and you sigh happily. With her touching you like that, the sunlight, and the view of the beach, you could stay like this all day. 

“It’s no real surprise, but you definitely got the highest grade in the class,” Agatha says with a snort. She sounds proud and you turn your head to press a kiss to her leg. Her fingers tighten in your hair, just barely, but enough for you to notice. You smile to yourself, loving the effect you have on her. 

“What was the lowest?” you ask, just for fun. 

Without even looking up, you know that she’s smirking again. “So far? A fifty-three.” 

A laugh tears itself out of your throat before you can stop it. “Oh my god,” you exclaim and Agatha chuckles above you. “That is just…bad. It wasn’t even that hard.” 

“Well,” she hums, “it probably would’ve been hard if you hadn’t studied. We covered a lot and most of your classmates don’t pay attention in class. They’re usually on their computers and they don’t look up once during the lecture so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re just watching a movie.” 

There’s not much you can say about that, because you’ve certainly been guilty of doing that before. The biology class you took your freshman year? You’re pretty sure you skipped more than you went, and when you did go, you were doing a crossword puzzle or online shopping. 

“Oh, I haven’t noticed.” 

Agatha gently tugs on your hair, pulling your head back, and you meet her bright blue eyes. “That’s because you’re too busy staring at your professor.”

There’s no use denying that, but it sparks the familiar heat in your core. Arousal courses through your veins and your breath hitches. It’s unfair how easy you are for her.

She recognizes the look on your face and raises an eyebrow teasingly. “Really? Already so needy for mommy again?” 

A gasp stutters from your chest and you nod, hazy fog already settling in your brain. You’re hungry, so hungry for her, and you can already feel the stickiness between your legs. 

Agatha lets go of your hair to lean forward and put her laptop on the coffee table and then pats her thighs with a heavy sigh. But the twinkle in her eye that you catch when you eagerly stand up shows you that she’s all too willing to give you what you need. 

She sits back further in the chair and you straddle her legs, one of her thighs between yours so you can press against her core too, and you hike your dress up just enough so the fabric doesn’t hinder you. 

When you sit down and she feels the wet heat from your unrestricted cunt, Agatha gasps and her hands fly to your waist. “So fucking naughty,” she tuts. “You’re just such a slut for mommy, aren’t you?”

The degradation gets to you as much as the praise does and you bite your lip and nod. Agatha’s chest flares and she starts to guide your movements. 

The first drag of your clit against her thigh makes you keen loudly and Agatha’s eyes flash warningly. 

“Got to be quiet, baby,” she says mockingly. “There’s people on the beach below us. Don’t want them to know how desperate you are for me.” 

In the sliding glass door, you can see the reflection of the shoreline. You can see the couple walking hand-in-hand, you can see the group of men huddled around a cooler, you can see the older woman sunbathing. Agatha’s condo is right on the beach; if you are too loud, they could easily look up and see you riding her thigh right now. 

“I don’t care,” you gasp, at least semi-truthfully, and your hips jerk, smearing more of your wetness on her skin. Agatha lets out a quiet groan, either at the feeling or your admission. 

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, grabbing your chin with one hand to make you look at her. Your unfocused eyes meet her dark ones and another thrill runs through you. You buck frantically against her thigh to relieve the throbbing ache inside you and Agatha smiles dangerously. “Use your words, honey.” 

It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts because of how good her strong muscles feel against you. The tension travels to your lower back and up your spine and you grab onto her shoulders to gain more leverage. 

She’s still looking at you expectantly and you know that you would tell her anything right now. 

“I’m a slut for you, mommy,” you agree, a loud whine ripping from your throat. Agatha’s breath catches and she looks up at you with a revering awe. “Let them see. Let them see who I belong to.” 

Her lips are on yours the moment you finish talking, furious and passionate, the kiss full of teeth, tongue, and possession, and she bites at your bottom lip before both hands grab your waist again and grind you down hard against her leg. You moan into her mouth, rocking your hips in time with her movements, and you wonder if she can feel your clit pulsing. 

“Get up,” she growls against you. You scramble up out of her lap and she follows, dragging you in for another kiss, and you step toward the door, but she pushes you forward. 

Your back hits the rail of the balcony. 

“What—?” you ask, chest heaving, lips swollen. 

Agatha stalks toward you and puts her arms on each side of your body, effectively trapping you. “You wanted them to see,” she reminds you and then turns you around so your stomach is pressed against the railing. Your body reacts viscerally; a harsh sound falls from your mouth, your skin burns, and more wetness seeps from your throbbing cunt. 

Her hands slowly push your dress over your ass and you situate yourself so that your forearms are resting on top of the railing and your back is arched, giving your professor a clear look at your soaked pussy. 

She traces a pattern on your asscheek until you realize with a jolt that she’s outlining her hand print. It must still be there from Thursday. 

And then she spanks you again and you jerk forward with a gasp. It stings because of the still-bruised skin, but it settles right in your cunt and only makes the heat inside you burn brighter. 

No one on the beach has looked up yet, but there’s the all too present knowledge that they could. At any point, they could glance up and see you bent over the balcony with your professor’s fingers buried inside you. 

“Mommy, please,” you whine, pushing your ass back even more. She’s still touching your ass, but when you make your plea, Agatha chuckles and ghosts two fingers over your slit. You moan and your head drops forward, only to be lifted back up by Agatha’s hand in your hair. 

“Look at them,” she hisses in your ear, fingers fully against your pussy now. “You’re going to keep looking at them and you’re going to show them how good of a girl you can be for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you choke out. 

The touch against your cunt is gone and the same hand smacks your ass not a second later. “Yes, who?” 

“Yes, mommy,” you gasp. 

Agatha leans forward so her whole body is pressed against yours and then bites the top of your shoulder blade. You shiver and let out a pathetic whimper and you feel her smile against your skin. 

And then she sinks two fingers inside you and your mouth drops open with an obscene moan. Your walls clench around her tightly and you quickly cover your mouth but she tugs your hand away. 

“What’s wrong?” she taunts, setting a bruising pace inside you straight away. “Don’t want them to hear you? I thought you wanted to show them what a slut you are. You’re taking mommy’s fingers like such a good girl, you know.”

If anyone sees, you’ll both be in so much trouble. This could be how you get caught and Agatha could lose her job—but she doesn't seem too concerned with that right now. 

She twists her fingers roughly, filling you perfectly, and tingles dance up your spine. It’s too good and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out. 

The couple that was walking on the beach strolls into the water. Another woman joins the one sunbathing. The men start to throw a football around. None of them have any idea that three stories above them, you’re getting fucked. 

You can feel wetness running down your thighs and you begin to push yourself back on her fingers, making them go deeper inside you. Agatha makes a noise when you start moving and she curls her fingers harshly. A moan tumbles from your lips before you can catch it and she huffs from behind you. 

“Fuck, you’re so desperate,” she groans, but there’s not a hint of exasperation in her voice. “So desperate for mommy that you’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you? Even if people were watching?” 

“Yes, fuck,” you gasp and she thrusts harder. You can’t get a second to breathe and you’re panting, mind completely blank except for Agatha. 

She spanks you with her other hand and you jump. 

There’s a new group of people walking onto the beach right below you. All you can do is hope that the ocean drowns out your sounds. 

“You’re making such a mess for me,” Agatha coos and you know—you can feel it too. 

But to emphasize it, she pulls out of your cunt, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, and then she spanks you hard with that same hand. It makes a wet slap and when she pulls away, your ass is sticky. 

She presses her body even closer against you and snakes her hand around your front to effortlessly find your clit. She rubs it and you moan, sparks skating under your skin. 

The waves are crashing harder now, breaking furiously on the shore, and spitting mist up. You feel it collect on your bare arms and you can taste the salt. It mixes with the scent of her perfume and makes the coffee, vanilla, and spice even more distinct. You inhale it deeply and Agatha’s finger swipes your clit roughly. 

“Look at them,” she croons from behind you, only this time, it’s not an order, it’s an observation. “So oblivious to you being such a slut. That’s good.” 

She pushes two fingers back into you with her other hand so she can keep toying with your clit. Her strokes are languid and lazy, a stark contrast to the frantic bucking of your hips to try to get more stimulation. Your body is stiffening with the little pleasure you’re getting and you bite your lip again, chewing at the peeled skin that’s already there. 

Agatha rests her head on your shoulder so she can whisper into your ear. “They don’t get to see you like this. Only I do. You know why?”

You shake your head, silently begging for more. Tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes from her dragging it out. Her fingers move slowly out of you and then they inch back inside you. The light touches to your clit are just barely enough to make your nerves light up, but you need more. 

“Because,” she says, punctuating it with a sharp thrust, “you’re mine.” You stifle your moan and she sets a bruising pace, finally, and you feel the taste of copper fill your mouth. “You’re mommy’s good girl. You’re mommy’s slut. Only I can make you feel this good.” 

“Yes—fuck—only you,” you cry out and she roughly circles your clit. “Please, mommy.” 

You’re getting closer, the pleasure fraying your mind, and all you can do is mumble intelligently, asking for more. She grunts behind you with the effort and when your head drops to rest on your forearms again, she doesn't say anything. You pick your leg up and rest your foot on the bottom piece of the railing, giving her just a little more room to work with, and you’re instantly rewarded when her fingers enter a new depth they couldn’t get from the previous angle. 

She’s so deep, you’re so full, and the tension is spreading throughout your entire body. You can’t control it, you can’t hold it back any longer—

And she knows.

“Beg for it,” Agatha says in a dangerous, low voice. “You don’t have permission yet.”

A tear drops from your eye and runs down your cheek, mixing with the saltiness from the ocean. “Please, mommy, let me come, I need it—I need you, fuck, it feels so good, can I come?” you whimper and you can almost hear her smiling. 

She bends down to scrape her teeth along the strap of your dress, thrusts hard, curls her fingers, and rubs against that spot inside you. It steals your breath away and you whine pleadingly. It’s going to happen, you’re trying to fight it but you can’t. 

“Come for me, honey,” Agatha says and you let the flood of pleasure wash you away. Your walls convulse around her fingers, the tension in your body finally alleviated, and your mind goes white for a few seconds. 

More people are starting to walk onto the beach and Agatha quickly slows down her thrusts before pulling out of you completely and tugging down your dress. You take a moment to recover before turning around to face her. 

Her eyes are dark with blown-out pupils and the same red tinge from last night in her cheeks is there. Her jaw is clenched, forehead vein throbbing, and your mouth waters at the thought of hopefully getting to taste her again. 

She holds up her fingers and you eagerly take them into your mouth, moaning at the taste of yourself, and her breathing grows heavier the more you suck at them. 

You have quite the oral fixation, don’t you, honey?

Just for her, you think. 

“We could’ve gotten caught,” you tell her once she pulls her fingers out of your mouth, like she wasn't aware of that. 

Agatha winks. “I knew you’d be quiet.” As you open your mouth to say something else, she kisses you sweetly. You melt into her and she pulls back just enough to murmur, “It would’ve been okay. Mommy would’ve taken care of it.”

It makes you feel better, even though you have no idea how she would do that, but her hands stroke up and down your arms, pushing all other thoughts from your head.

“I was thinking that once I finish grading these papers, we could go into town and get breakfast? And then we can spend the afternoon at the beach?” Agatha says. 

“Can I, um—” you swallow and she raises an eyebrow teasingly, “I want to taste you.” Your voice has dropped to a rasp and your professor bites her lip hungrily. 

She examines your face and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before leaning in. Her lips are only a breath away from yours. “How about we go inside and you get on your knees for me—” your breath hitches and she smirks, “and if you make me come before I finish putting these grades in, I’ll give you another reward tonight.” 

You’re nodding before her words even register and Agatha gives you a Cheshire-cat grin. She grabs her laptop and the stack of papers and slides open the door and you look back at the ocean one last time before following. 

Agatha walks over to the kitchen table and drops her stuff before unzipping her shorts. You’re still in a daze and you groan as she slides them down her legs. Even though she was naked in front of you yesterday, it’s like seeing her for the first time. She has blue cotton underwear underneath and she leaves them on when she sits down in the chair that she pulls out. 

You fall to your knees, even though you’re by the couch. Agatha’s chest heaves as you start to crawl to her, not even registering the burn in your knees, and she scooches the chair back against the wood floors to give you space to get under the table. 

She moves to the edge of the seat and you can already see the dampness on the gusset of her underwear. Your breaths come out ragged. 

“Is this for me?” you rasp, but it doesn’t sound as confident as when she says it. 

Agatha doesn’t answer, just reaches down to move her panties to the side, revealing her swollen folds. You can see strands of clear liquid smeared around her lips and you feel your body start to overheat. Her clit peeks out and your mouth waters. “You don’t have very long,” she warns, shifting above you to grab a paper. 

You can hear her typing on her laptop when you drag your tongue through her cunt for the first time. Her taste fills your mouth and you moan involuntarily. Her thighs tensen around you, but she doesn't make a noise. 

She scribbles something on the paper and you enclose your lips around her clit, rolling it under your tongue, and then you suck. Agatha’s hips jerk and she gives a muffled cough, but she keeps grading. She’s so unaffected that it turns you on and makes you all the more desperate to get her to lose composure. 

You start to lap at her clit, making sounds of your own right against her pussy, and she shudders. One particular hard lick has her gasping and you hear the slight crinkle of paper. It makes a thrill run up your spine. 

Agatha is getting wetter—you can feel the slickness on your face again and you close your eyes to fully immerse yourself in her cunt. You suck on her folds and whimper at the squelching sounds it elicits and her hips start to roll just a bit, like she’s really trying to restrain her reactions. 

Her keyboard clicks and she goes back to writing on someone’s paper. She tries to close her thighs, either on purpose or unknowingly, but you hold them open with your hands. 

You lick up inside of her, as deep as you can, and Agatha whimpers. She swears under her breath and you do it again. 

One of her hands entangles in your hair and her writing sounds like it’s gotten messier. You go back to suckling at her clit and position a finger at her entrance. 

She pulls on your hair and you take it as a go-ahead. 

Her walls clench around you as you begin sliding your middle finger into her and you keen. She’s slick and wet and so fucking hot, and you dig the nails of your other hand into her skin. 

“Fuck,” she says and you curl it slowly, looking for her g-spot while you keep tonguing at her clit. You find it and she lets out a high-pitched noise. 

Your wrist starts to burn from the angle but you pick up your pace, fucking into her and sucking at her clit, because her legs are trembling and her noises are less restrained. 

“I only have three more,” she says in a taut voice and you push another finger into her. Her walls grip your fingers, trying to pull them in deeper, and her wetness is slipping down your hand. She spasms around you on a hard thrust and her clit pulses against your tongue. 

Agatha’s hand tightens in your hair and yanks on it and you hiss at the sting. It travels right down to your cunt and you dig your nails into her thigh harder, revealing in her moan. 

“Fuck, honey,” she says quietly, jerking her hips, and she squeezes around you. “You’re going to make mommy come.”

You whimper against her cunt and she gasps at the reverberations. 

All sounds other than yours and hers have ceased—she isn’t writing or typing anything anymore. 

Good. 

Her thighs stiffen around you, her breathing is labored, and the grip she has on your hair almost becomes painful. 

“Right there, sweetheart,” she moans and you curl your fingers quickly. “Oh—god.” 

Agatha groans as she convulses around your fingers, coming all over your mouth and hand, and you keep lapping at her while you gently move your fingers. Her body jerks and her legs shudder but you’re pulling more sounds from her so you don’t want to stop. 

“Baby, baby, please,” she pants and you finally sit back on your heels, your tongue lasciviously licking her wetness from your lips. She groans when you slide your fingers out and she grabs your wrist to bring your arm up so she can clean you off. 

Her hot mouth around your fingers makes your eyes widen and your mouth drop open and she gives you a sultry wink before letting them go. 

You surge up, straddling her just like you were doing earlier, and kiss her ferociously, letting her taste herself even more on your tongue that sweeps into her mouth. She sucks on your bottom lip and then nips at it and your arms cross over the back of her neck to get closer. 

You’re content to stay there all day, never mind grading or the beach or anything else, but then your stomach grumbles. 

Agatha breaks the kiss with a laugh and pats your hips. “Should we go get some breakfast?” she asks and you nod sheepishly. “Why don’t you freshen up, I’ll finish up these exams, and then we’ll go?” 

Although you hate to leave her lap, the promise of food is appealing. You stand up onto shaky legs, but not before kissing her one more time. “Don’t forget about the reward,” you remind her and she smirks before playfully slapping your ass. 

In the bathroom, a wave of pleasure washes through you when you see the glistening on the lower half of your face in the mirror. Agatha. You’re covered with her. You barely recognize the wild eyes in the reflection in front of you and you take a deep breath. 

There’s something still so surreal about this, like at any moment, it could all get taken away and you’ll wake up in your dorm room with Wanda right across from you. 

But you hear Agatha humming something to herself in the other room and you meet the eyes of the reflection. 

They look more like yours now. 

You splash some water on your face, reluctantly cleaning off the proof of Agatha’s arousal from it, and then dry yourself off with the washcloth. You grab the bottle of Good Girl and spritz yourself and then slide your sandals onto your feet. 

With one last look in the mirror, you nod approvingly and go back out to the living room. 

Agatha inhales when you perch on the edge of the table next to her, smelling the almonds, cocoa, and flowers. She smirks knowingly without even looking up at you. She’s sadly put her underwear and shorts back on and you wonder how long she’ll keep them on for. 

Hopefully once you get back from breakfast, not for long. 

You watch her work for a few minutes, dragging her red pen down the pages of the exam, making quick work of counting the number of wrong questions and then inputting the score into her laptop. You’re definitely not supposed to be watching this and seeing what your classmates got, but Agatha isn’t going to say anything.

It wouldn’t be the first rule you’ve broken either. 

“All right, you ready?” she asks, closing her laptop, and smiling up at you. You nod and she pushes back her chair to stand up and walk to her room. 

She comes back a moment later with flip flops on and she grabs her keys before stopping. You bite your lip while she works something out in her head. 

“How about we bring the beach stuff so we can just go right there after eating?” she offers. 

“Oh—yeah, that sounds good,” you say. 

Agatha grabs a tote bag and throws two towels, sunscreen, and a swimsuit into it while you grab your two-piece to put on now because you still don’t have anything underneath. The purple bottoms are rather skimpy and you can’t wait to see Agatha’s reaction to them. The black top ties around your back and around your neck and is also more on the scandalous side, showing a good amount of your cleavage. 

With any luck, the two of you will end up in the same position as you were yesterday night in the water, but this time, she won’t even bother bringing you back to the condo before fucking you. 

Can that be your reward?

If only there was a nude beach around here. 

She eyes you suspiciously when you come out of the bathroom looking a bit too excited, but doesn’t say anything. She shrugs the bag over her shoulder and leads you out of the condo and to the elevator. There’s a soreness in your body but you drink it in because it’s a physical reminder of what happened. 

People step to the side to let you both in when the doors open and you immediately stiffen because you and your professor are together. 

But they don’t even give you second glances and you’re able to relax a little. These people don’t know who you are. They don’t know that you being here with Agatha is dangerous.

The back of her hand brushes against the back of yours and the touch is enough to be reassuring. Even if you long for the day where you’ll be able to hold her hand without fear of being caught, you’ll take what you can get for right now. 

After all, what you have behind closed doors is more than enough to keep you satisfied. 

The doors slide open on the ground floor and Agatha puts a hand on your lower back to guide you out, making you shiver from the casual dominance. She exudes it and you find yourself sinking further and further into it, letting yourself get wrapped up in it. In her. 

“Feel like walking?” she asks, already steering you away from her car and to the boardwalk where it seems like forever ago that you were walking back from dinner with her. “It’s not that far.” 

You happily agree. The sun is bright but not too hot on your skin, the seagull calls fill the air along with the waves and the happy whoops from people on the beach, and the fresh air fills your lungs. You can’t remember the last time you felt so free. College feels so far away and you’re already dreading having to go back tomorrow. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asks, looking sideways at you. She’s walking with her hands in her pockets while you fiddle with your fingers. 

You shrug. “Think we could just stay here forever?” 

Agatha snorts but then smiles. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” You chuckle and duck your head, thrilled that she’s indulging you. 

“Just you, me, and the ocean. And your bed, of course,” you add and Agatha tosses back her head with a laugh. The breeze blows her hair into your face and it smells like Black Opium. 

“And the balcony,” she says with a smirk and your cheeks grow hot. “And the kitchen chairs. And the bath. We haven’t gotten to the couch yet, but we’ve got time.” 

With each step you take, you can feel the throbbing between your legs grow, can feel the slickness coating your upper thighs. 

The smirk on her face is wicked and she steps closer to casually bump against you. “You know what I really want to do?” Agatha murmurs and you raise a shaky hand at the couple that walks by you. “I want to bend you over the sink in my bathroom and make you watch yourself get fucked so you can see how pretty you look when mommy ruins you.” 

You have to grab onto her bicep before your knees buckle. She simpers and keeps walking, practically pulling you along, and that thought blocks anything else from coming in. 

It’s hard to remember how to speak, but you eventually choke out, “Is that my reward?” 

She presses a quick kiss to your cheek after looking around to make sure no one is watching. “That could be part of it.” You think your professor might be just a little evil for how much she enjoys toying with you. 

It’s close to ten-thirty when you get to the breakfast restaurant, but it’s not too crowded. It’s a small, cozy place with some chairs outside, umbrellas shielding the table from the sun. Steps lead up to the main entrance and a lime green awning hangs over it. 

“Good morning, how many?” the host asks when you stop in front of him and Agatha answers for you. He grabs two menus and gestures for you to follow him. He leads you to a table in the back and you both thank him before sitting down. 

Almost immediately, a waiter comes over to take your drink orders. Agatha orders a coffee and you get a lemonade. 

The menu is a lot easier to take in here than the restaurant last night, so when the waiter comes back with your drinks only a minute later, you’re able to order for yourself. Agatha gets poached eggs on avocado and feta toast while you get the two-egg breakfast with bacon and potatoes. He takes your menus and walks away. 

“This is a neat place,” you say, looking around at all the vintage records on the wall. 

Agatha snorts. “Do you even recognize any of these bands?” 

Your cheeks heat up and you grab your glass of lemonade, sliding it toward you. “Some of them,” you retort, taking your straw between your teeth and chewing on it. A question is weighing on your mind but you’re not sure if you should ask it. 

She must be able to tell because she raises an eyebrow at you. There must be something specific about your silence when you want to say something—you’re not surprised she picked up on it. 

“Does it bother you?” you ask timidly, stirring the straw in your drink. Agatha hums, prompting you to go on. “I mean, like, the age difference.” Your stomach twists and you look down so you don’t have to meet her eyes. 

Agatha places her hand onto the table and slides it so it’s on your side, just inches from your fingers. She sighs heavily and takes it back to ruffle her hair, like she’s figuring out how to respond. “It doesn't bother me,” she says finally and relief whooshes through you. “It’s just complicated right now with me being your professor. This has to stay a secret, okay?” 

“I know,” you say empathically. “I promise. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” 

She gives you a wry smile and clears her throat. “It is exciting, having a pretty young thing that will do anything I ask.” 

Heat ignites in your core and you squirm in the chair. 

“You would, wouldn’t you?” she presses, fire dancing in her eyes. In this light, their color looks almost more gray and you’re once again reminded just how beautiful she is. 

“Yes, mommy,” you answer, mouthing the last word, and there’s no missing her shiver. You don’t think she’d protest if you were to drag her to the bathroom right now because you can feel the liquid pooling in your underwear and you think she might be feeling the same. 

You want her to test it, want her to ask you to get on your knees right now for her.

There’s a good chance you wouldn’t be able to say no. 

But she just leans back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with your response. “You’re such a good girl, you know that, right?” 

“Agatha, please,” you whisper, needing her to either stop the teasing or take you somewhere to fuck you because your clit is aching. 

She bites her lip, like she wants to see how far she can push you. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” 

A sharp gasp rips itself from you and you grip the table, giving her a pleading look. She chuckles and picks up a packet of sugar, rips it open, and dumps it into her coffee. 

“You’re too easy,” she says with a smug smirk, and it should embarrass you, but you’re also too far gone for her. She has you wrapped around your fingers and she fully knows it—she loves it. 

She didn’t even really have to condition you that much, if that’s what she was doing, because you did most of the work yourself. 

And that thought turns you on so much more than it should. 

But when Agatha gives you that look, the one that says she’s ready to risk it all, how can you not be okay with it? 

The waiter comes back with your food, way quicker than you were expecting, and puts your plates down in front of you. Your scrambled eggs look perfect, your bacon is crisp and smells delicious, and your potatoes look crunchy. 

Agatha’s food looks good too, the poached egg resting on top of the mix of avocado and feta cheese that covers a piece of bread. 

You pick up your fork and begin scooping your eggs into your mouth when Agatha’s foot touches your ankle. She leaves it there, just resting, and you don’t think much of it until she flexes her toes against your skin. 

She smiles sweetly when you choke on egg, bits of yellow flying from your mouth. 

She starts to neatly cut her food, unaffected and completely composed, while her foot slowly skims up the inside of your shin. You can feel the coarse fabric of her flip flop and you put all your focus into eating. 

Her foot slides back down and lies against your ankle and you shoot her a look before eating as quickly as you can before she starts again. 

She doesn’t move again, but the anticipation is there, just hanging over, like a sword that could fall at any moment. It’s a simple touch, nothing special at all, definitely nothing that warrants how you’re reacting, but just having Agatha’s skin against yours is enough to distract you. 

And that’s how you know that you’re in trouble. 

“How’s your food?” you ask, desperate to get your mind off of dirtier things. 

It seems that your professor has other plans. “Good, but not as good as you.” 

Your fork clangs loudly against the plate as you bring it down too hard and you curse under your breath. Agatha laughs and waves away the waiters who look at you from across the restaurant. 

You don’t say another word during breakfast, not wanting to give her any more fuel to mess with you. It’s not that you don’t enjoy it—you just don’t think other people will want to be around when you finally can’t take it anymore and you jump on her and shove her hand up your dress. 

Agatha pays the bill again without even looking at it and pops three of your potatoes into her mouth before standing up and nodding at you. She picks up the tote bag that was resting on the floor and her hand finds its way to the small of your back on the way out of the restaurant. 

Heat from her fingers seeps through the silk and goes straight to your core. She leads you down the steps out front and back to the boardwalk. 

“We can get some beach chairs from the complex,” she says. 

You burrow into her side and there’s a spate of arousal in your veins when you breathe in her scent. “Can we stop in your room first?” you ask, desperation leaking into your voice. 

Her laugh seems to mock you. “Aw, baby,” she coos and squeezes your waist. “Can you be patient for mommy?” 

You whimper dramatically and then pout. “I have been.”

“I know, hon. Let’s go to the beach now, just for a few hours, and then we’ll have all of tonight to do whatever we want.” 

“Okay,” you agree sullenly and Agatha presses a quick kiss to your head with a laugh. 

“You’re such a trooper,” she teases and you snort before straightening up. A few hours on the beach does sound nice: sunbathing and wading in the water and just existing with Agatha outside of the university. 

There’s no telling the next time you’ll get to just be yourselves instead of professor and student. You yearn for when you’ll be able to do that all the time, but you know the rules. You know that can’t happen yet, not for a few months at the earliest. 

It’ll probably be after graduation in May before you can really be something. And that’s not counting if she’s your graduate school professor. 

You feel your heavy sigh in your bones. Agatha glances at you but doesn’t say anything this time—maybe she knows where your thoughts are at and doesn't want to make you voice them. 

Is she having these thoughts too? You wish she were easier to read. You can rarely ever tell what she’s thinking. 

But you suppose that’s part of her charm. The unbreakable Professor Harkness—except you’ve gotten close to cracking through her facade. 

Agatha walks off the boardwalk into the sand once you get back to her condo and you follow her around the building to the back, where there’s a stand with a man surrounded by racks of folding chairs and umbrellas. 

The man hands you two chairs and a big beach umbrella and writes down Agatha’s name. His eyes flit to you, maybe wondering who you are, but he doesn’t say anything. 

She finds a secluded spot a bit farther down the beach and stakes the umbrella in the sand while you unfold the chairs. 

“I’m going to go change,” Agatha says, tossing the sunscreen and your towel at you from the bag, and you perk up immediately. “No. Stay.” 

It very much feels like you’re a dog and she’s ordering you around, but it works. You take off your dress and spray your body with sunscreen before rubbing some in on your face and then you shake out your towel and drape it over your chair. 

She comes back a few minutes later to find you leaning over in your chair and pouring sand on your feet and you choke on your own saliva when you take her in. She’s wearing a black one-piece that shows off the swell of her breasts and the curve of her ass, and it dips to the middle of her chest, blessing you with more than a hint of cleavage. 

Agatha likes your swimsuit too, if the darkening of her eyes and the faint pink in her cheeks is any indication. 

You lurch up out of your chair with the sunscreen bottle and a glint in your eye. “Need some help, Professor?” Before she can answer, you spray her legs and arms and step around to get her back. You toss the can down and step closer so you can sensually rub it in. 

“You’re not subtle,” she says through gritted teeth. 

“I just don’t want you to get burned,” you say innocently and she looks over her shoulder so you watch her roll her eyes. You smirk and lean in to kiss her, but she pulls back at the last minute and looks around. 

Even though she bent you over the balcony and fucked you just a few hours ago, she’s still a bit weary of affection in actual public places. You guess you can’t blame her. She has a lot more to lose than you do, even though her signals seem extremely mixed. Sometimes it feels like she doesn't care if anyone is around. 

She’s trying just as hard as you are to navigate what’s going on between you and figure out what’s safe and what’s not. 

If anything, it means that sometimes, she lets her guard down around you because she wants you too. Maybe just as much. You hope to god that that’s true. 

“Shall we?” Agatha asks, tilting her head to the ocean, and it’s so much like last night, except you both go into the water together this time. 

The waves are gentler right now and it’s warmer. You wade out easily until you’re a little above knee-deep with Agatha right behind you. 

You turn around to face her and she glances around to find that everyone else is either much farther out than you are, or back on shore. There’s no one around you. They can still see you, but there’s less risk. 

She pulls you to her and spins you around, your back against her front with her arms crossed over you, and you stand like that for what feels like forever. The water sways you from side to side but there’s something so peaceful about it, especially with Agatha holding you. 

Her left hand begins to creep down until her fingertips rest against the edge of your bikini bottom hem, but she doesn’t go any further. Just her touch is enough to make your stomach hot, but it’s not a burning heat. It’s softer and muted and you want to just soak it in. 

You feel her lips against your ear, a quick kiss, and then she does the same to your head. Her wet hair sticks to your back and you relax even more into her embrace. 

“We’re playing with fire, you know that, right?” Agatha murmurs. It sends a shiver down your spine and you nod. 

Her unspoken words hang over you: someone is bound to get burned. 

Even in the silence, it sounds like a promise. 

But for right now, until that happens, she has you. 

And you have her. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x @hapuchika @xblinkx2 @xanthreee @tobeawriter98 @warpdrive-witch

[honkytonk-hangman]

SunKissing

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of sex but no actual smut xx

Notes: again, ty to @roleycoleyland this one is dedicated to you &lt;3 Title from the Hailee Steinfeld song <3

Masterlist

Jake had stopped listening to the others the moment you nervously walked through the back gate. He’s off on the other side of the yard, so Penny reaches you long before he does, smiling kindly as your eyes flicker to her, then down at the covered plate in your hands when she gestures to it. Jake shakes his head internally. He’d told you that you didn’t need to bring anything, but of course you had anyway.

You smile sweetly, but unsurely as Penny welcomes you, and Jake is glad it’s her who saw you first, not one of the others. He hadn’t told anyone about you yet, let alone mentioned that he had invited you to this post-deployment barbecue Mav had all but ordered.

Eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet.

There were very few things Jake liked more than flying, and almost nothing in the world was worth it to him to give it up. Yet, the past eight months hadn’t gone by in their usual halcyon blur of adrenaline and speed, instead, Jake had found that the time to dragged, the days clung and the weeks hanging on like they had made it their personal mission to torture him.

He didn’t get to make phone calls that often, but you’d given him your email before he’d left, and despite staring at an empty document for three days too long, he’d sent you a short, somewhat conservative update, only to breathe out a sigh of relief when not too long after, he’d received your reply.

Jake hadn’t done this before, not even with his family. He preferred the months at sea with no ties and no tethers to anything or anyone on land, completely unattached and free from responsibility. That was the Hangman promise after all, ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’, which had been working out just great for him the past couple of years, right up until he met you.

It was at the Hard Deck of course, where he’d first sidled up to you, all charm and casual cool, certain that he’d found his night's paramour, only to be thanked for the offer of a bought drink, but dutifully informed immediately that you wouldn’t be going home with him. Jake hadn’t been completely taken aback, sometimes he set his sights on a woman who was taken, or just plain not interested, and that was always fine, but that hadn’t exactly been the case with you. You’d simply gone on to inform him that you didn’t do one night stands, which, in Jake's mind hadn’t made you off limits yet, so he’d bought you a drink anyway, this time free of expectations, and to his own surprise, after starting a conversation with you properly, he hadn’t wanted to end it. 

Only after you’d checked the time and told him you’d needed to go had Jake realised just how much he’d enjoyed your company, and so taking a step out of his own usual comfort zone, he’d asked you out on a date.

You’d been unsure at first, like you could read his usual antics all over his face, and told him that you didn’t sleep with people on first dates either, but Jake only laughed at your bluntness, and assured you he’d just wanted to see you again, sex or not. Even now, he’s not sure how much of that was just a line, but in the end he supposed it didn’t really matter, because only three dates and eight and a half months later, it was the most truthful fact about him.

For the past two-hundred and fifty-nine days, Jake had wanted to see nothing but you, and when that couldn’t happen thanks to his deployment, he’d settled for weekly emails. He’d never admit it to anyone, but for the first time in his entire life as an aviator, Jake had come to look forward to your weekly updates more so than he even looked forward to flying.

You’d been so surprised when he’d called you less than an hour after getting boots on the ground at last, even more surprised when Jake had immediately invited you to the Dagger’s welcome home party that night. Which is the reason why you’re currently looking around nervously, and letting Penny take your plate from you.

Jake is fully checked out of the conversation by the time he starts moving, ignoring any calls after him as he makes a beeline toward you, finally drawing your attention when he’s only a few feet away. Much like him, you seem to cease all other focus when you see him, your eyes never leaving him as he quickly closes the distance between you.

“There you are,” Jake all but gushes, sidestepping Penny and immediately wrapping you up, pulling you in firmly with both arms in a hug he doesn’t intend to let go of any time soon.

“Jake!” You barely get out before you’re engulfed. Jake feels his eyes prickle just a little bit when your arms link tightly around his neck, but he forcibly blinks the sensation away, focusing instead on how good it feels to hold you again.

“I’ll take this inside…” Penny says softly, knowingly, but neither of you really notice her slink off. You also don’t notice Fanboy nudge Phoenix, or how the rest of his squad slyly stop their talking to watch the two of you with various levels of interest.

“God, I missed you,” Jake hears himself say before he can really stop and think about it, his heart thumping rapidly away in his chest at the possibility that you didn’t actually feel the same. You laugh a little, and sniff, burying yourself deeper into his neck.

“I missed you too!” You say muffled into the collar of his shirt, tightening your hold on him slightly. Jake lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and squeezes you closer.

“You alright sweetheart?” He asks quieter than before, feeling a few spots of wetness seep through his shirt, as well as hearing the way you sniffle again.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you try to reassure him, despite the shake to your voice. Jake can only hum, and adjusts his hold on you so he can sweep one large hand up and down you back in soothing motions, something he’s pretty sure he’s only even done once before, to his mother before he left for the Academy damn near seventeen years ago.

Jake just holds you there for a few minutes more, until your sniffling finally stops and you begin pulling back. He’s glad you don’t go far though, keeping your arms around his neck still as you lean back to get a proper look at him. He doesn’t comment on the redness of your eyes, but he does have to blink rapidly to stop his own prickling once again.

“God, look at you!” You say softly, not really explaining what you mean, but you’re smiling brightly, so Jake doesn't care. He sorta gets it, when he runs his eyes over you. You’d gotten a haircut since he saw a picture of you last, he thinks you might’ve changed the way you did your eye makeup. Just little things he wouldn’t have noticed had he seen them day by day, but all at once carry over to be much more noticeable.

“I’m glad you came,” he tells you honestly, leaning back in to press a quick kiss to your mouth, which turns into two quick kisses, which turns into a third, longer, more substantial one. Behind him, someone wolf whistles, and Jake can’t help the grin that covers his face when he pulls back and gets a look at your flushed features.

“Come on, lemme introduce you to these idiots, or they’ll get even more annoying.” He rolls his eyes, but really, Jake can’t get enough of the way it feels to sling his arm casually around your waist and tug you into him as he guides you back to the otherside of the yard. He smiles widely, taking immense pleasure at getting to show you off for the first time in front of his friends. He loves the way you sink into him, hand resting naturally against his sternum, the place where you are feeling like exactly the place you belong.

In fact, Jake believes so firmly that the place you belong is right by his side, he doesn’t let you leave it all night. He’d gotten a lift to Penny and Mav’s with Coyote, so he drives your car back for you, taking your hand and bringing it across the console to rest on his thigh, coving it with his own and giving it a squeeze every twenty or so seconds as he sees fit.

“Come back with me?” He’d asked before pulling out of the curb side parking, glancing over at you meaningfully. It had been you who’d squeezed his hand then, and smiled softly at him in the dark of the early evening.

“If you want me to.” You’d said to him. Considering right up until his deployment you’d been taking it slow, he understands the trust your acceptance really imparts, and feels a warmth spread through him at the mere suggestion.

It’s ironic to Jake that eight and a half months ago he would have be raring to go at your agreeing to come back to his home after a party, but now, with so much time between you and with Jake still firmly in recovery mode from his deployment, sex is really the last thing on his mind. It’s even more ironic to him that once he’s tucked your car away in his garage for the night, and dragged you inside, it’s him who puts the breaks on things escalating, something he’s fairly certain he’s never done before in his life.

“Mmphf… baby, wait, wait…” Jake hears himself say breathily, forcing himself to pull his lips away from yours entirely. He’d been kissing you the moment the front door was shut, shoving you gently against the wall so that he could really savour how you tasted after all these months, but your hands grasping at the front of his shirt, pulling him in, begging for more nearly has him giving it to you right there in his entryway. He refrains, though, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours, though indulges the both of you by pressing himself into you, letting you feel his weight on top of you.

“What’s wrong?” you all but whine, brow furrowing sweetly, like perhaps you thought he wanted to stop because of something you’d done. Jake lifts his hands to cup your jaw, tilting your chin higher and plants two more less-than-chaste kisses to your already swollen lips.

“You’re not going to believe me when I say this,” Jake starts, a wry smile already pulling at his lips and he rolls his eyes at himself this time. You blink up at him questioningly. “Lets just go slow for tonight,” he says, your disbelief confirmed when you stare at him utter in confusion, your frown deepening. “Listen, darling’, I’d love to continue this line of thought you’ve got,” he can’t help but lean against you harder then, something in his abdomen stirring when your eyelids flutter and he sees you swallow thickly. “But… I’m exhausted, honey… let me just hold you, alright?”

He says the words without much question to them, knowing that you’d respect his request without thought. He’s rewarded for his honesty by you mirroring his hold on your cheeks, your own hands cupping his face as you coo.

“Jake, you don't need to entertain me if you’re tired, I can go home…!” you try to tell him, but he ends that idea with a sharp narrowing of his eyes, his hands gripping you harder.

“Baby I haven’t seen or touched you in months, I’m planning on calling you out of work sick tomorrow,” he jokes, though, the thought does strike him as actually a good idea. You laugh, and for a moment he feels slightly light headed because of it.

When he regains himself again, he drops his lips back to yours slowly and maybe a little too hotly, but he doesn’t regret it. “Come on,” he says eventually, tugging you from against the wall, but keeping the line of your body flush to his. “Let's go to bed baby.”

–

You wake in the early hours of the morning with a small start. At first you don’t recognise your surroundings, which makes your sleepy brain panic, but a few seconds later, a dim light to your left reminds you of where you are and who you’re with.

You peel your eyes open and find Jake lying next to you, his head resting in his palm as he leans up on his pillow, phone in hand, his brightness turned all the way down you suspect. You wake further upon realising he’s wide awake, and clearly has been for some time, but at feeling you begin to stir, the arm he still has draped around you tightens, like he’s trying to soothe you in your sleep. He looks up from his phone then, and it makes your heart flutter something wild that even when he thinks you’re asleep he’s remaining attentive.

“Shh, close your eyes baby,” he whispers, clearly not realising you were fully conscious now. You shuffle closer though, curling into his side, and using the opportunity to take him in fully. Jake always looked beautiful, and you aren’t shocked to discover he was even more so at this hour of the day, with his hair completely mussed from your earlier making out, and his features totally relaxed in a way you’re almost certain you’ve never seen before.

“Why’re you awake?” you ask with a yawn. Jake sighs and runs his hand up and down your back a few times.

“Did I wake you up?” he replies, frowning. You shake your head and stifle another yawn.

“What’re you doin’?” you try again. Jake puts his phone down, tucking it under his pillow.

“Lookin’ up mattresses,” he tells you, pulling you in closer, so you’re facing one another. Neither of you raise your voices above a whisper, and despite everything that has happened tonight, this moment feels more intimate than anything else.

“Jake, I wasn’t bein’ serious!” you faux-scold, but he only shrugs. His hand brushes absently over your spine again, and you’re once again surprised by just how touchy Jake has been since his return.

Before he left, the two of you had been out together a whole three times, only two dates of which had ended in brief, but breathtaking kisses, but despite that, you’d initially been a little surprised when he’d told you he was leaving for the better part of a year, and then proceeded to ask for your contact information. To be perfectly honest, you’d expected Jake to break up with you, not somewhat flusteredly explain to you that emails were the best form of regular contact at sea, and ask if it were okay if maybe he sent you some.

You reach a hand up and smooth down some of his hair. Jake leans into you and closes his eyes.

“The springs in this thing could kill someone,” he whispers, shuffling so that his knee slots between yours. “And if my bunk on the carrier is more comfortable, then I definitely need to upgrade.”

You watch him closely. Usually, in the past, you’d had trouble telling whether or not Jake was being honest with you, but for some reason right now you have absolutely zero doubt he was lying.

You suppress your smile, but only because if your emails over the last eight and half months had taught you anything, it was that Jake found it hard sometimes to be vulnerable just for the sake of it, and often hid it under the guise of other thingsv. You don’t believe him about finding his carrier bunk more comfortable, but you understand this is his way of making room for you, asking you in his own way to stay, much like his asking for your email had been all those months ago now.

Jake shifts and peeks one eye open at you.

“Maybe we can go to the store tomorrow,” he says lightly. You hum, and try not to give your insight away.

“The weekend perhaps? I don’t finish until late tomorrow,” you tell him, only for his head to begin shaking.

“Nope, not working tomorrow,” he insists, at last opening both his eyes when you can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, you were being serious!” you laugh, just as Jake draws you closer, so his breath ghosts over your lips teasingly.

“I won’t be so tired in the morning… and maybe you can help me test out the new mattress.” his voice is low and sends a thrill down your spine at his implication.

“Well, I can’t let you test it out on your own…” you concede, just as he leans in and presses a kiss to your jaw, shaking his head.

“After eight months of ‘testing it on my own’, that would just be cruel.”

You can't help but laugh, scrunching up your nose and lightly smacking his chest. Jake grins, and kisses another spot along your jaw, higher this time, making you barely suppress a shiver. He chortles to himself and adjusts his positioning to wrap an arm around you. You settle in against his chest and for a few minutes the two of you just lay in comfortable silence.

“I want you to be comfortable here,” Jake whispers eventually, making you pull back a little to look up at him. He’s still referencing your much earlier comment about his old mattress, but you really had been mostly joking.

“As long as you’re here, I will be.” you tell him  in just as quiet of a whisper. Jake shuffles, and shifts his eyes away from you, to look somewhere over your head.

“But I’m not always here…” he says even quieter than before, still not looking at you. You want to question why you would be at his house when he was away, but it strikes you then, that perhaps in the future, that's exactly what he wants.

You pull back even more, but only so you can cup his cheeks and force him to look back down at you. Kissing his lips briefly, you lean in and brush the tip of his nose with yours.

“Then let's go mattress shopping in the morning.”

[cow-smells]

Decisions | Vinsmoke Sanji / Roronoa Zoro x reader

Summary: You and Sanji are friends. Just like you're friends with Zoro. When a misunderstanding pushes emotions to a boiling point, you're put on the spot to make a tough decision - who really is the man for you?

Word count: 1100

Warnings: none

A/n: this is going to be a choose-your-destiny type thing, where you can choose who you want to end up with! this first part is the prequel to that ~

you chose: Zoro , Sanji

Read on AO3

“Here, like this.”

Sanji took to standing behind you, wrapping his arms around you to place his hands on yours, guiding you through the proper motions to chop a carrot as evenly as he did. You couldn’t help but notice how his biceps flexed against your own, how he smelled of the bath he took this morning, the light caress of his breath on your neck. It was nearly overwhelming. You had to hyperfocus on the task in front of you so to not zone out and chop off a finger.

The carrots now chopped, Sanji’s excuse to wrap himself around you was gone. Reluctantly, he took a step back; you weren’t sure if the sudden coldness you were feeling was disappointment at his lack of proximity.

“Okay,” he started, his voice a little shaken; you wondered – was that because of you? “breakfast’s about as good as done. Do you want to call everyone in?”

“Sure,” you agreed, earning yourself one of Sanji’s beautiful, deep-dimpled smiles.

Gathering the crew for breakfast was rarely a hassle; you were often tasked with the mission after helping Sanji prep breakfast, and so, you already knew everyone’s routines and where to find them. Luffy was usually nearby the kitchen somewhere, ready to pounce on breakfast the moment Sanji permitted; Nami could be found on deck, drawing maps of where you’ve been; Usopp was a bit less predictable, but he’d usually find you as you were making the rounds. And then there was Zoro – which, you learned, was not a morning person.

While Sanji was up at the crack of dawn, already dressed to the nines and on his feet working in the kitchen, Zoro would sleep in until forced out of bed. They really were polar opposites.

This morning was no different; you knocked twice on Zoro’s door before letting yourself in. You smiled at the sight of his sleeping form, splayed across the bed, limbs tangled in his sheets – so unlike the proper way he held himself during his waking hours.

Perching yourself on the side of the bed, you lay a hand on Zoro’s shoulder. He opted to sleep on his stomach, and you couldn’t help but be appreciative of the sight of his muscular back, shaped by the hours of training he put in daily. “Zoro,” you called calmly, caressing his upper back in what you believed to be a friendly manner. “Hey, it’s time for breakfast.”

Zoro mumbled incoherently in to his pillow before shifting to throw an arm around you, his eyes still shut peacefully. “Zoro,” you laughed, being tilted on to him. “come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Finally, Zoro responded. “Mm. Sleep better.”

“Better than Sanji’s cooking?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned. You should have seen that coming. After a short pause, Zoro opened an eye, taking you in. “Did you cook?”

“I helped.”

“Fine.” With that, Zoro threw off the sheet that was covering him, hopping out of bed in surprising speed. While he’d usually sleep in trousers, last night was hotter than usual, and he seemed to opt against them today.

“Sorry,” you apologize, seeing Zoro in nothing but his boxers. You stood up to make your way out of the room when Zoro interjected, “What’s the rush? I’ll walk with you,” as he pulled on a pair of pants. He grabbed a button-up and followed you out of his room, threading an arm in to his shirt.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you came face to face with Usopp. You could see from the way he was looking at you two, just what he was thinking. You both were leaving his room quietly early in the morning, Zoro being half undressed. Usopp’s gaze jumped between you and Zoro, his mouth falling slightly open, trying to think of how to express himself.

Zoro, however, didn’t give him the opportunity. “Usopp.” Zoro greeted sternly. Zoro then placed a hand on your lower back, maneuvering you to keep walking, leaving a confused, suspicious Usopp behind.

Usopp was the last to join you all for breakfast. When he had finally arrived, the expression he wore was one of slight terror, or maybe just pure disbelief; a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the crew. Usopp took his place sitting opposite Nami, who wasn’t afraid to just ask – “Usopp. What’s up with your face?”

Usopp, reluctant to vocalize at this place and time, opted for giving Nami a wide-eyed look before raising his brows and shifting his eyeline between you and Zoro.

If that was meant to be a discreet message from himself to Nami, it failed, because even your oblivious captain had picked up on the cue – “What’s going on with y/n and Zoro?”

You could see Sanji tense visibly, his eyes growing wide. Zoro, however, seemed completely unbothered.

You could see the panic rise on Usopp before he blurted out, “Zoro and y/n are sleeping together!”

You, Luffy and Nami all shout – “What?!” to varying degrees of emotion. Strangely, Zoro doesn’t protest.

Then, a chair falls back to the floor. Sanji was on his feet, his hands fisted. You knew him well enough to know how mad he was just from the way he held himself.

“No.” Sanji said, his voice almost a growl. Slowly, he picked up his gaze from the floor to Zoro. “This… This is the one thing, I refuse to lose to you. I won’t let you have her.”

“Sit down, cook. This doesn’t regard you.” How Zoro could be so unbothered right now, you had no idea. Why wasn’t he clearing things up? Was he – was he okay with the others thinking you were together?

You could see Sanji flaring up – there was a fight about to break out, you were certain about it. “Sanji, I literally spent all morning with you.”

Instantly, Sanji’s rage melted away. Sanji made his way to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you to him. “That’s right. I shouldn’t be listening to this nonsense when I know I’m the first person you see when you wake up.”

Zoro’s brow twitched at that. “What are you saying, cook?”

Looking more smug than need be, Sanji replied, “What do you think, mosshead?”

“Enough with this already!” Nami yelled, far too tired with the duo’s one-upmanship. “You’re talking about a real person here, not a toy. Ever think to ask her how she feels, what she wants?”

“Yeah, y/n.” Zoro stood, and the look he was giving you could set you ablaze. Sanji’s arms around you tightened. “What do you want?”

you chose: Zoro , Sanji

[paceprompting]

paper kiss

written for ‘mistletoe’ wc: 982 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no warnings apply | tags: pre-relationship, pining, fluff, werewolf steve, human eddie

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Steve had a problem.

Call in the troops, all hands on deck, cannot afford to fail level of problem.

Except he couldn’t exactly go around blabbing this issue to the entire party. Dustin alone would blab in five seconds, and he’d never hear the end of it for as long as he lived.

How was he supposed to admit the simultaneously best and worst idea he’d ever had to kiss Eddie for the first time?

Eddie had never the opportunity for the romantic nonsense, even if he rolled his eyes or stuck out his tongue at any sight of it. Eddie’s walls were covered in thorns and bristles from years of needing to bite first what usually came to harm him.

Steve, on the other hand, was highly practiced in romantic nonsense.

So, clearly: Christmas time equaled mistletoe.

Genius in its simplicity.

Idiotic in that it was fatal.

Because now he was basically supernaturally allergic to the stuff.

You get bit by one demodog and you had severe drawbacks, go figure.

It was hard enough trying not to stick his nose in Eddie’s collarbone—scenting, Robin called it. He didn’t want to know what the hell she was reading—and envelop himself in Eddie's forest, smoky scent while leaving his own behind. Even though he was literally the only person in Hawkins who could smell the difference, getting bit had come with all these other weird instincts.

Somehow, dealing with the transformation every full moon was easier than navigating daily life when every slight against the kids, against Robin, against Eddie had his claws and fangs bursting out with an inhuman snarl.

That he needed nearly two and half times more calories than ever just to not feel like he was going to pass out by midday.

When every time he looked at Eddie, he wanted so intensely his jaw hurt until they were close enough Steve could catch his scent. Close enough to always know he was okay because Steve was close enough to get to him.

Steve sighed, tapping his fingers on the counter.

“I’m just going to buy some.”

Robin leaned into his eyeline, a fearsome frown on her face, and jabbed her finger into his chest. “You’ll die, dingus.”

“Only if I directly inhale it.”

She flicked him. “Why is it important?”

Eddie wasn’t at the house, yet. He had chauffeur duty for the impeding Christmas-ification of Steve’s house—tinsel, garlands, lights, the whole nine yards—and the plan had led to Steve’s badly wonderful idea.

The kids would be so distracted decorating/devastating his house, Steve could easily pull Eddie aside for a private moment.

And they had both been too much shit. Eddie was worth more than a plain old kiss.

The kids entered the house in a whirlwind, shouting and laying out boxes and shopping bags to tear into without so much as a hello. Steve chuckled to himself.

He smelled Eddie before he saw him, and raised his head. His dark curls were dotted with melting snow, cheeks pinkened by the cold. Eddie stared intently at them, with something hidden in his hands.

Robin dismissed herself, hissing quietly at him before she darted off, “Just do it.”

Eddie didn’t watch her leave, slowly stepping into the kitchen until Steve met him halfway. Steve still couldn’t see what he was holding, Eddie’s fingers curled around something small.

Steve breathed in his fresh scent—pine forest and smoke—the tension in his shoulders fading.

“Um, I had this, sort of…thing. An idea,” Eddie started quietly.

“Do I get to hear it?”

Eddie started to roll his eyes, and then stopped himself. Like he was trying not to fall into old habits. Strange.

This idea had to be something special.

“So, I really want to kiss you.”

Steve’s heart pounded so loud in his ears, he hardly processed that Eddie had kept speaking, his enclosed hands moving in their usual way. Drew Steve’s attention all the more to what he was hiding.

“I thought, Christmas, mistletoe. Perfect opportunity.” Steve bit his lip to keep from smiling, since Eddie had gone onto the inevitable conclusion. “And then I remembered that would probably kill you before we ever got to enjoy it.”

Steve clicked his tongue. “Yeah.”

“So, instead, I made this.” Eddie opened his hands, and extended out what looked like a small plant with oval leaves and red berries.

Hesitantly, Steve reached for it. Eddie wasn’t about to poison him, but Steve wasn’t sure what to expect as he grabbed with two fingers at the nearest leaf. The thing crinkled as Steve lifted it.

“Paper,” he said with a soft smile.

He held the faux-mistletoe in one hand, examining it with the other. Stems of green oval leaves, tiny red berried and tied together at the top with a white ribbon. It was soft and slightly fuzzy like construction paper, and Steve faintly smelled Eddie’s pine forest all over it.

“And safe,” Eddie said.

All this to overcome Steve’s werewolf allergy. Because they both wanted to kiss.

For some reason, particularly under mistletoe.

Steve looked at Eddie, his eyes wide and waiting. He chuckled. “We have made this so complicated.”

Eddie arched a brow.

“You transform into a hairy beast every full moon and I really want you to hold me down and lick me all over the rest of the month. Let’s just say our lives haven’t been simple for a while.” He stepped close, plucking the mistletoe from Steve’s hand to run it over his lips.

He flicked his eyes toward Steve over the paper leaves, playful and heated. A pleased growl rumbled through Steve’s chest, and Eddie’s eyes just gleamed. They had moved close enough that all one of them had to do was drift that much closer.

“Are you going to kiss the mistletoe?” Steve asked, peering at Eddie’s mouth and imagining the taste of pine and smoke. “Or me?”

[maeby-cursed]

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who waits for you in the parking lot after class. clad in a black hoodie covered in bleached designs, and baggy jeans, he looks like something straight out of your dirtiest fantasies.

he smiles when he sees you, the dimples he got from his cheek piercings in full display. he looks sweet as a peach pie like this — a feature that seems out of place coming from the wild-haired, smoky-eyed boy —, but you know that nobody else gets to see him the way you do.

that makes you smile.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who teaches you how to ride a skateboard. he sits you down on the deck and positions himself behind you, keeping your legs between his. you both propel yourselves with a couple of kicks to the ground and speed down the ramp of the park.

his friends laugh at the sight of you shrieking with delight, and he smiles, pushing your hair to the side so he can see your eyes, brimming with adrenaline and a danger that begins to taste like him.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who is there for every single one of your firsts and kind of regrets not being able to experience his own with you. he holds your hair during your first hangover, doesn’t laugh when you cough after your very first drag of a cigarette, and sleeps under your lilac covers after you’ve spent your first night with him.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who drops out of school because he finds it tedious, who is kicked out of his parents' house. who now lives with his best friend satoru, and is studying cosmetics at a course.

you've seen his sketchbooks, his delicate and intricate designs. you've seen how he braids some of his hair when he's tense and how he applies red shadows with care whenever you two go out on a date. you’ve seen how much talent he has. 

he dreams of being a tattoo artist and you’re sure he will be.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who is reluctant to tattoo you. he's been doing this for two years now; he's done full backs, arms and legs. he's even done piercings; eyebrows, nipples, bellybuttons. 

but your skin is different. your body contains your person and he doesn't feel quite ready to mark it.

yet he's never been good at saying no to you so he ends up giving in.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who, at twenty, spends his evenings in your shitty apartment contemplating the little heart he carved into your hip and kissing it.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who helps you with your studies, who's not quite a teenager anymore but who still takes you to the park from time to time, to watch that shine in your eyes come to life when you ride his skateboard again – just like it did that first time.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who never gives up his black eye shadow even if the years go by, who keeps a little bit of his old self in his combat boots, in his chipped nail polish.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who at twenty-six adopts two girls whose parents also threw them out, who works double shifts every day until he’s twenty-nine and is able to open his own tattoo shop, who keeps on working so they can get the lives he believes they deserve.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who still listens to his favorite songs. ‘one of us’ and ‘american idiot’ and ‘teenagers’; who dances with you and your little girls to all of them.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who, although his exterior never truly softens, has always been full of kindness and clouds.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who deep down knows that a part of him will be eternally misunderstood by everyone else, yet who recognizes something in your eyes; something that assures him that in this house ��� this house he’s built with love and devotion to his true self – everyone else does understand him. and know him.

and love him still.

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter nine sparks fly as Hiori finds himself with unexpected realizations and plenty of "oh" moments, proving that love and self-discovery often come hand in hand. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains fluff, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort masterlist

You find yourself defending Hiori from haters on the internet, like the petty girlfriend you are. It’s become a borderline hobby at this point, arguing in comment sections and subreddits whenever someone talks trash about Bastard München or Hiori himself.

Of course, as the adult you claim to be, you avoid insults and low blows. Instead, you opt for scathing yet professional comebacks, channeling your skills as a journalist. 

And of course, like the smart adult that you are, you use a dummy account to do so. 

It’s a bizarre pastime, born from the hours you spend researching for feature stories, editorials, and video content at work. Your roommate, Miko, doesn’t think it’s that weird, but she does call you “the crazy girlfriend.” You disagree, though you can’t entirely blame her. 

After all, there’s nothing particularly normal about the sight of you furiously typing away at your laptop, decked out in worn-out college shirt and comfy pajamas, your hair an unkempt bun, crumbs of your favorite salted chips littering the couch. It’s a Thursday afternoon, and there you are, locked in a battle with sweaty fanboys whose egos are probably bigger than their actual football knowledge.

One night, while you’re deep in your moonlighting gig as Hiori’s internet knight, a message pops up on your phone. It’s from Hiori, probably fresh off training.

hiori_yo23: this you? 'Anonymous_screen322'?

Attached is a screenshot of one of your comments on a major JFA subreddit, your username staring back at you like a bright neon sign.

The comment?

A bold defense of Hiori as a better midfielder than Reäl’s Itoshi Sae. In it, you didn’t hold back, calling someone “a pathetic, stuck-up jerkface who clearly knows nothing about football stats because he’s too busy living in his mom’s basement, thinking the sport is all about goals and vibes.”

Panic rises in your chest. You stare at his message, fingers frozen above your phone screen. Before you can think of a response, your phone buzzes loudly, making you jump.

Hiori’s calling.

You take a deep breath and swipe to answer.

“Hello?” you say cautiously.

“Is it you?” he asks, his voice light, amused. You can almost see the grin on his face, imagine him lounging in his gaming chair, leaning back with his phone in hand.

You groan, burying your face in your free hand. “Yeah, it’s me. How did you even figure that out? I’ve been so careful!”

“That’s a pretty popular subreddit,” he says, a soft laugh escaping him. “Of course, I check it out sometimes. It’s fun reading people rant about everyone and everything. Plus, no one talks passionately about me like ya do.”

“Ugh, sorry. I know it’s weird,” you admit, laughing nervously. “I just… I like defending you. Gotta spread the Hiori Yo propaganda, you know”

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “Don’t apologize. It’s kinda funny, actually. You’re like… the most respectful keyboard warrior I’ve ever seen.”

You grin. You’re just relieved that he doesn’t think you’re a total weirdo. 

But you slip up.

It happens during a night out with your coworkers. You guys are talking shop when you stumble across a post from a rival media outlet, written by the same guy you’ve been butting heads with since you entered sports journalism.

The article is a hot take about how midfielders and defenders are “insignificant” compared to forwards and strikers. It’s basically him mansplaining the sport as if rating the players through style points matter. It’s obviously a bait post, made to rile up people and drive engagement. 

In a perfect world, you’d scroll past it. Even with two mojitos in your system, you’d roll your eyes and move on. But then he name-drops Hiori, among other players.

So like the petty girlfriend that you are, it meant war for you. 

Game on.

You crack your knuckles, take a sip of your third mojito, and start typing.

Anyone with half a brain would see this post for what it is: rage bait. As a journalist, you’d think you’d understand the sport you’re writing about. But clearly, you don’t.

You could’ve hit send. That could’ve been the end of it. But no, you’re just getting started.

The worst part isn’t your ignorance. It’s how you put down players who are doing their best under public scrutiny. Maybe you think no one will call you out, but think again. You’re just another toxic fanboy who pretends to know about the sport and brag about it around everyone you meet.  But hey, at least you’re doing everyone a favor for being a pretentious walking red flag yourself that even men and women who have terrible eyesight can see you from miles away.  I would rather be called biased for critically analyzing plays than be someone who’s just spouting jargon and putting down players as if he can play any better. Go read a book about football. Google’s free too. It wouldn’t hurt you to use your brain right.

By the time you’re done, you’ve unleashed a paragraph-long tirade. It feels amazing—better than the mojito, even. You put your phone down, smug, and rejoin the table.

The next morning, you wake up to a pounding headache and the sound of Miko banging on your door.

“Get up!” she yells. “Oh, you crazy, crazy girl. I didn’t know you had the guts to say this! Check your phone. Now.”

Groaning, you stumble out of bed and grab your phone. Notifications flood your screen. Tags, mentions, replies, likes. Confused, you tap one of the alerts.

And there it is.

The bait post from last night. The one where you defended Hiori.

You forgot to switch to your dummy account.

Panic washes over you as you realize you’d commented using your personal, professional account—the one tied to your job.

You open your work group chat, which is also blowing up.

your deskmate: ur insane. another coworker: brave but insane. your editor: Atta girl. 👍 Feisty’s good PR. Keep it up!

Relief trickles in when you read your boss’s message. Apparently, your little stunt worked in your outlet’s favor. People are flocking to your platform, calling it the one with “better takes.”

Miko walks in, handing you a glass of water and paracetamol. “You’re welcome,” she says with a smirk.

You scroll through the comments. A few criticize you for being “biased,” but it’s not like you’re reporting hard news. You write features and editorials, and in this day and age, people appreciate subjective, well-reasoned content over rage baiting.

Most of the comments are positive, commending you for calling out the post. It helps settle your nerves—until a new notification pops up.

A mention. From Hiori himself.

hiori_yo23: Always coming to our rescue. Thanks for taking care of us, /yn_offthepage.

Your jaw drops. The replies to your comment skyrocket. Everyone’s losing their minds over the fact that Hiori Yo noticed you. Again.

You roll your eyes, though you’re smiling. He’s teasing you.

You fire off a message to him.

yn_offthepage: Good morning to you too. Thanks for stirring the pot even more. hiori_yo23: Not my fault someone forgot to switch accounts during her white knight duties. yn_offthepage: I’m sorry, okay? I had drinks, and I got triggered when he mentioned you. hiori_yo23: yer good. It’s funny, honestly. but you don’t have to defend me. don’t want ya stressing over this stuff yn_offthepage: I want to, though. so don’t worry about it. thanks for having my back. hiori_yo23: anytime, princess. i gotcha.

Hiori is unusually excited today. It isn’t a high-stakes game, just an exhibition match between Bastard München and a visiting foreign team. A chance to relax, strategize, and test out new tactics alongside Ness, Coach Noa, and Grim.

The stadium is still packed, though. Even an exhibition match meant money for the JFA, and the crowd turnout reflected that.

Hiori played the first half, but midway through, he swapped out with Kiyora. The team is experimenting with different combinations, testing player synergies, and fine-tuning strategies. Even so, they secured a win, and Hiori felt good about the results, already anticipating the debrief with Coach Noa.

It’s nice that he’s getting pulled into these things for the team. It really shows the value he brings to the table and how he’s grown as a player with them.

After the game, he’s all smiles, he knows he’ll see you for sure. Until he saw them.

His parents. Both of them. Together.

They’re approaching him from the VIP section, their faces a picture of calm neutrality, though the sight of them side by side sent a jolt through Hiori’s chest. He has given them VIP tickets as a gesture, assuming only one might show up. They’ve vaguely mentioned attending, but he’d never expected them to come together.

Especially since they got divorced a year ago.

Breaking away from the team, Hiori approached them. He greeted his mom first, who pulled him into a warm, tight hug.

“Yo-kun, are you eating well? Have you been sick? Is that why you didn’t play the whole match?” Her voice was tinged with worry as she fussed over him, pinching his arms to check his muscle tone.

Hiori let out a soft laugh, trying to ease her concern. “M’fine, Mom. Just working on strategy with the coach and the seniors. It’s better to watch from the bench sometimes. Helps us figure out what needs improving. And it’s just an exhibition match.”

“Just an exhibition match? Are you hearing yourself, Yo-kun?” His dad’s sharp voice cut through the moment like a blade, his tone already brimming with frustration.

Hiori stiffened, his stomach knotting.

“You’re probably slacking off, that’s why you got benched,” his dad continued, crossing his arms. “I told you before, midfielders are easily replaceable. You should take notes from Isagi. Look at him—a go-getter. A real player. I thought Blue Lock and playing for the German club were supposed to make you better, but it’s like you’ve been regressing ever since.”

“Dad, that’s not—”

His father snaps, his voice rising. “What’s the point of being a player if you’re not the star? Are you really satisfied being second-rate?”

His mom tries to interject, placing a hand on her ex-husband’s arm. “Stop it, it’s—”

“I’m just telling him the truth.”

And just like that, It was like high school all over again. The criticisms. The pressure. The suffocating weight of expectations his parents had piled on him since he was a child. Memories flooded his mind. Nights spent training past exhaustion, lectures about how being the best was the only option, the constant feeling that nothing he did was enough.

His dad’s voice continued to ring in his ears.

“What’s the point of playing football if you’re not leading the team? If you’re not scoring goals, you’re just another cog in the machine. Football is a star’s game, Yo-kun.”

As if his dad could ever understand the intricacies of football. The roles. The teamwork. The balance. It wasn’t judo, where individual prowess reigned supreme, or high jump, where you competed against yourself. Football was about synergy, trust, and playing for the team, aside from being an excellent individual player yourself. But explaining that to his parents felt as futile as screaming into the void.

His gaze drops to the ground, shame burning in his chest. His dad’s voice droned on, but Hiori stops listening.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you.

You’re standing just a few feet behind his parents. The smile on your face dissolves, replaced by something he couldn’t quite place—concern? Sadness? Disbelief?

Hiori freezes. His chest tightens as if the air had been sucked out of the stadium. He wishes the earth would swallow him whole.

You aren’t supposed to hear this. Not the ugly criticisms, not the suffocating expectations, and certainly not the pathetic version of himself standing there, crestfallen and powerless.

He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He doesn’t know what hurts more. His dad’s words or the thought of you seeing him like this.

“Excuse me?” you say, your voice dripping with theatrical offense. Hiori has never heard you sound so offended.

“Are you talking about Hiori Yo? The Hiori Yo? The genius midfielder of Bastard München? Rated as one of the best midfielders in the league—on par with Alexis Ness and Itoshi Sae? Hell, maybe even better than Itoshi Sae himself? The best midfielder to come out of Blue Lock?” You look in absolute disbelief with what you’ve heard, it was written all over your face.

“You’re calling him a second-rate football player? Are you kidding me? Do you hear yourself, sir?” Your voice cuts through the air like a whip, halting Hiori’s dad mid-rant. Both of Hiori’s parents turn to look at you, bewildered by the sudden intrusion.

You place yourself firmly between them, just slightly closer to Hiori’s side, as though shielding him from further harm.

Hiori blinks, stunned. You don’t stop talking, but for him, it’s as if his entire world stopped and all he could see was you.

“That’s an utterly ridiculous take,” you continue. “Midfielders are the heart of the team. It’s a massive disservice and frankly, a huge disrespect to label them as second-rate players just because they’re not as flashy as forwards. Just because they don’t score often doesn’t make them any less important. And respectfully, let me correct you—this man,” you point directly at Hiori, your eyes blazing with conviction, “isn’t just any midfielder.”

Hiori can only stare, his mouth slightly open, as you keep going.

“This man is an ultrasadist of a midfielder. He controls the game. He calls the plays, manipulates his teammates and his opponents, and makes split-second decisions like a freaking mastermind. And that, sir”—your tone softens just slightly, your lips in a tight fine line—“is hot as hell, if you ask me.”

A poorly stifled snicker comes from somewhere behind you. Hiori recognizes it immediately. Isagi. When he glances around, he notices several of his teammates watching from a respectful distance, their expressions ranging from amused to genuinely impressed.

You’re not done yet.

“So please,” you say, your voice calm and deliberate now, though still brimming with authority. “I say this with the utmost respect to my elders…”

Hiori’s dad flinches, his earlier bravado faltering under your gaze.

“…show some damn respect to midfielders. Especially to Hiori Yo. He’s a damn good player, and any team would be lucky to have him.”

You step back, catching your breath, your glare never wavering. Hiori’s dad looks thoroughly flustered.

He clears his throat awkwardly, mumbling, “I—I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, Yo-kun.”

Yo-kun?

The shift in tone surprises you, but what catches you off guard more is his next question.

“Sorry, who are you again, miss?” His gaze shifts back to Hiori. “Who is she, son?”

Son? Oh no.

Your head snaps toward Hiori. He looks flustered, his face a mix of shock and panic as he tries to come up with a response.

“Uh… she’s… a friend,” he finally stammers.

Before you can process the tightening in your chest, his mom squeals in recognition.

“Oh! You’re the journalist who wrote about Yo-kun!” She beams at you, reaching for your hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Thank you so much! I loved your article—it was so thoughtful!”

You’re too stunned to react. “Uh—thank you, ma’am…”

Before the situation can spiral further, Hiori gently pulls his mom away. “Let’s catch up later, Miss Journalist, okay?” His voice is cold, detached, and entirely different from the Hiori you know.

Your heart sinks.

“R-right. Sorry,” you mumble, bowing slightly before walking away as quickly as you can without outright running.

Embarrassment churns in your stomach. You just humiliated him. You overstepped. You messed up.

Back at home, you send him a text.

yn_offthepage: I’m so sorry for what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I crossed a line, and I hope we can talk about it.

You stare at your phone, waiting anxiously for a reply. Minutes feel like hours, and when he finally reads your message, the notification of him typing disappears. He leaves you on read.

Three hours later, a reply comes through.

hiori_yo23: s’fine. I’ll see ya tomorrow, ‘kay? have a good night.

You stare at the message.

Everything is definitely not fine.

The weather is perfect. Almost annoyingly so—like it’s mocking the nerves still clinging to you after yesterday’s altercation.

You’re supposed to meet Hiori at the station before taking him to your secret date destination. You’d planned it all out, but the anxiety from the day before had left you tossing and turning all night. Unable to sleep, you arrived early, only to find him already there.

Standing near the station entrance, Hiori sticks out like a giant amidst the crowd. He’s wearing a navy blue bucket hat, a windbreaker in a matching shade layered over a plain black shirt, straight-cut pants, and white sneakers. He looks good. Really good.

You glance down at your outfit—a frilly black skirt paired with a fitted white crop top that shows just a sliver of midriff. You hope it looks okay.

Walking up behind him, you tug lightly on his windbreaker. “You’re early. Did I make you wait?”

“Yer good,” he says, turning to you with a small smile. “I just got here.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, catching you off guard as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Hey!” you gasp, swatting his arm. Heat rises to your face as you glance around nervously, scanning for familiar faces. “Hiori, we’re in public!” you whisper. “What if someone recognizes you?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “What? Can’t kiss my girl now?” His voice is teasing, but the warmth in his tone makes your heart skip a beat. “And s’fine. Look around. We’re just a normal-looking couple on a date. Lighten up, princess.”

Before you can argue, he slips his fingers through yours, holding your hand firmly.

The train is crowded, as expected on a weekend. As you board, Hiori pulls you close to shield you from the jostling passengers. With your back against the train wall, he stands in front of you, one arm braced against the wall beside your head while the other keeps a firm hold of your hand.

He’s close. So close you can feel his heartbeat faintly through his shirt. The citrusy, woodsy scent of his cologne surrounds you, grounding you in the moment.

You stay like that for five stops, your body tucked securely in his protective space. Finally, you whisper, “Let’s get off here.”

Hiori glances down at you, nodding as he guides you through the bustling crowd and out of the station, his hand never leaving yours.

Once outside, he looks around curiously. “Where to now?”

“You’ll see.” This time, you take the lead, practically bouncing with excitement as Hiori trails behind, basking in your energy and the warm sun.

The two of you chat as you walk, catching up on small things. You pointedly avoid bringing up the incident at the exhibition match. Fear and embarrassment gnaws at your insides just thinking about it. 

Eventually, you stop. Letting go of his hand, you jog a few steps ahead, spinning around to face him with your arms spread wide. “Tada!”

You beam at him, gesturing toward the colorful entrance to the amusement park.

For a moment, Hiori’s expression is unreadable. Then, a soft chuckle escapes him as his face lights up.

“An amusement park?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

You jog back to his side, clasping your hands behind your back as you walk beside him. “Amusement park dates are a classic. Thought we’d try it.”

You reach for his hand again, lacing your fingers together. “Plus, you told me how you spent most of your childhood practicing or training for football. I figured you might’ve missed out on this kind of thing.”

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips.

“And for the record,” you add with a grin, “you’re never too old for an amusement park.”

Hiori stops walking, his eyes studying you as if seeing you in a new light. You’re pretty much accurate, if you ask him. 

“Thanks,” he says softly, squeezing your hand. “I’m looking forward to enjoying my first amusement park trip with you.”

And Hiori does. Both of you do.

Even though you’re not a fan of thrill rides, you indulge Hiori, letting him drag you onto roller coasters that he clearly loves. The first drop has you screaming at the top of your lungs, while Hiori sits beside you laughing, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. By the second ride, he’s still laughing, though now it’s at your expense.

You play carnival games together, trying to one-up each other to win a plushie prize. The competition is fierce, filled with playful teasing, but in the end, you both win something—two small plushies that you exchange with one another.

There’s a cafe stop for a light lunch, and throughout the day, you try as many snacks as you can get your grubby hands on—cotton candy, churros, and even some fried delicacies that make you laugh at how messy they are to eat.

It’s so much fun.

Hiori hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to experience an amusement park until now. Growing up, he’d always thought he was better off training for football, trying to live up to his parents’ expectations. In high school, he’d closed himself off, preferring the solitary escape of video games. And by the time he hit his twenties, he felt too old for amusement parks, too self-conscious to admit he’d never been to one, or too shy to ask his friends to go with him.

But now, with you beside him, wearing ridiculous animal headbands and pinning cute ear clips onto his bucket hat, everything feels different. He finds himself laughing. A little louder and more free than usual.

You make him happy.

It dawns on him slowly, as the afternoon sun dips lower in the sky. You understand him. Not just surface-level things, but the deeper parts of him. The ones he doesn’t even talk about. You’ve barely been together, yet you see through his walls and make him feel safe to open up, even if it’s just a little at a time.

There’s no pressure. No crushing expectations. You don’t demand greatness from him or put him on a pedestal. You let him be himself. Just Hiori Yo. And for once, it feels enough. He feels enough.

He watches you from a short distance as you buy drinks for the two of you, his chest tightening with gratitude.

By dusk, you both arrive at the ferris wheel.

It’s the last stop on your itinerary, and as you wait in line, the twinkling lights of the park glow softly against the night sky. When it’s your turn, you step into the carriage and settle into the seats across from each other.

The ride starts, the gentle motion lifting you higher. Hiori admires you in the dim, golden light, the way it softens your features, your hair catching faint glimmers of color from the park below.

The silence is comfortable.

Until you break it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out suddenly.

Hiori tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting in confusion. “For what?”

“For… yesterday,” you admit, your voice quieter now. The carriage continues its ascent, and as the lights dim outside, Hiori’s face grows harder to read. You swallow nervously, wondering if you just ruined the moment.

“I didn’t know they were your parents,” you say quickly. “I just… spoke out of instinct. I didn’t mean to offend them.”

Hiori’s lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I know you said I didn’t have to defend you, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t just stand there and let them talk to you like that.” You glance down, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

“You’re… you’re so amazing, Hiori. And I want everyone to know that. Even if people call me a groupie or a biased journalist, I don’t care. What I care about is telling the story of the incredible midfielder I know.”

You’re rambling, but the words won’t stop spilling out of your mouth it's like word vomit.

“You’re a great player and a great person. I know I probably say that a lot, and maybe it doesn’t mean much anymore, but I mean it every time. And I’ll keep saying it because it’s true. I think you’re amazing, Hiori—not as a fan, not as your girlfriend, but as someone who knows you.”

Your voice falters as the words leave your lips, and the carriage comes to a gentle stop at the very top of the ferris wheel. The view is breathtaking, but you can’t focus on anything except Hiori’s stunned expression.

His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly open as though he wants to say something, but the words don’t come. He closes his mouth, then opens it again, but nothing escapes.

You look away, embarrassed, and the rest of the ride descends in silence.

By the time the carriage reaches the ground, you’re staring out at the park lights, your chest heavy with regret.

Hiori takes your hand as you both step out of the ferris wheel carriage. Despite the late hour, the amusement park is still alive with soft, buzzing energy. The lively chaos of the day has given way to a calmer, more magical ambiance under the glow of twinkling lights.

He leads you to the boardwalk, stopping at a clearing that offers a breathtaking view of the entire park, its vibrant lights stretching out into the night.

Oh god, he’s going to break up with me. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Your stomach churns as you stare down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” Hiori says gently, his fingers guiding your chin upward until your eyes meet his.

“Hi,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

He scratches the back of his neck, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry, uh… I’ve been processing everything you said earlier. Ya kinda caught me off guard. Had me tongue-tied there.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling over each other. “If you want to break up, it’s okay. I understand. I—it was stupid of me to say all that—”

“Hey, hey, who said anything about breaking up?” he interrupts, his voice laced with concern.

“But you were so quiet,” you say, your chest tightening. “I thought you were mad.”

“I’m not mad. Not at ya,” he reassures, his tone soft yet firm. “I’m mad at myself for not saying those things sooner.”

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Sure, I was shocked when ya stood up to my parents. But… it made me happy. I didn’t realize how much ya admired me or how ya saw me. It was brave of ya.”

He pauses, fiddling with the zipper of his windbreaker, his eyes darting downward.

“My parents… they’ve always been like that. My mom’s gotten better lately—she’s trying, y’know? But my dad… it’s been harder with him. After what happened yesterday, though, we talked. The three of us. It was short, but they actually listened. They even apologized.” He hesitates, glancing at you. “Ya helped, a lot. It’s progress, if you ask me.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. Without thinking, you take his hand, tracing soft circles on his palm, hoping to soothe his nerves.

“And earlier,” he continues, his voice quieter, “I didn’t realize how much it bothered ya that I didn’t bring it up. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make ya worry.” He leans forward, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

“Ya just flustered me, is all,” he admits, a small smile tugging at his lips. “The way ya see me… it’s different. Not like the way other people do. With all the pressure and expectations. And I like the version of me that ya see. Ya make it feel like everything I’ve done to get here was worth it. Because I met you. And I’m here with you.”

“Really?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Really.” He grins, his thumb brushing against your hand. “And by the way, the amusement park? Amazing idea. I had so much fun. Thanks for taking my amusement park experience virginity.”

“Oh my god, please don’t call it that,” you groan, bursting into laughter.

“But you called me an ‘ultrasadist’ and, I quote, ‘hot as hell.’” His grin widens, his breath warm against your skin as he teases you.

“You and your big ego,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“Hey, ya did this,” he says with a chuckle. “Ya make me feel like the best player in the world.” His lips hover dangerously close to yours.

“You are,” you murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Better than Noel Noa?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.” You kiss him again.

“Better than Itoshi Sae?”

“Yup.” This time, the kiss lingers a little longer.

“Better than Gagamaru?” he jokes.

“Don’t push your luck, ultrasadist. Gagamaru’s the GOAT,” you quip, playfully swatting his chest.

Hiori laughs, pulling you closer. “Yeah, I’ll take my chances. As long as I have ya.”

This time, the kiss is deep, his hands resting on your hips as yours cradle the back of his neck. It’s slow and tender, yet filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.

And then, fireworks.

Literal fireworks burst behind you, painting the night sky in dazzling colors like the world itself was celebrating this moment.

Hiori doesn’t pull away, the explosions reflecting in his eyes as he looks at you mid-kiss. He wishes time could stop, because that’s how it feels kissing you right now—like fireworks. Stunning, explosive, and beautiful.

He just can’t get enough of you.

amari's notes: i literally wrote this just last night. the coffee i got from the cafe yesterday was so good i can barely sleep. definitely the longest one i've wrote. i had to write this by hand, which helped for some reason before i typed it out and it came out pretty good. it's been a busy month for me, with my vacation coming up and my birthday too. but i plan to update one more time this month! anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (if you wanna join the taglist, just comment or send me a message!)

taglist: @inu1gf @pookalicious-hq @dontmindtheevie @wannabepoeticischiya @chokifandom @momoriii-i

[snapscube]

Are you interested in the upcoming life is strange? I'm still unsure how I feel about it I'm excited but very worried how well or badly executed it could be with returning to max yknow?

i’m very interested! somewhat skeptical tbh, which is sad to feel since i fucking LOVED deck nines work on true colors, which is still my favorite life is strange. that game alone is giving me a lot of lingering good will towards double exposure and i hope it delivers. but ill admit bringing back Max is giving me some trepidation, especially within the context of what this game actually seems to be. it almost feels like max being the protagonist is somewhat of an afterthought? she doesn’t have her old powers, chloe is nowhere in sight and yet they want us to believe this game respects both endings of LiS1, and i’ll also say that i’m kinda exhausted by the idea of it being a death/murder as the inciting incident again. literally that makes life is strange 2, true colors, and now double exposure all games about the aftermath of someone close to the protagonist dying. i would have liked to see them do something new w the premise in that regard. but yeah, none of this is snuffing out my excitement for it overall! just hoping it feels meaningfully told and surprising.

[19calicos]

i know where to look – kuroo tetsurō ˎˊ˗

✶⋆.˚ chapter 1: call an ambulance! ( 𖦹 )

now playing: humility by gorillaz ft. george benson

cw: weed, skate injuries, 1 blood mention, a bit of overthinking

deep breaths: in, and out. the first lesson anyone learns in skateboarding is that the board can smell fear. hesitate and you'll eat shit, and they've eaten shit loads of times in the past couple days – the bruises and aches in their joints speak for themselves.

they blinked and two hours already passed, but they could live in this moment forever. everything was just right; suna was on aux with some mellow tunes at a relaxed volume, the night breeze was gentle and cool on their cheeks, and the lights of the library cast a peaceful glow on their friends watching from below. the staircase was their runway, and the library courtyard was their oyster.

“you got this yn!” noya called out, jumping up and down and pumping his board in the air. atsumu and suna were sat on their own boards while osamu held his phone up, recording them. yn insisted this would be their last try for the night and that this was gonna be the one that they land, and begged him to record this attempt.

“i’m gonna be honest, i don’t know how the fuck yn hasn’t broken their ankles yet. they’ve taken some crazy falls,” atsumu commented, cheek rested in his right palm while his left hand toyed with his shoelaces.

osamu shrugged in response. “it’s funny, they’re terrified of talking to people they don’t know but not of landing boneless from that high up.”

another deep breath and yn backed up a couple more steps. the world was crystal clear before them, from the way the tape of their board felt in their hands, all rough on the tips of their fingers, to the way their feet dug into their shoes, stinging ever so lightly from all the times they landed that night. they were floating on cloud 9, and now they were about to fly.

one, two, and they’re in a running start.

three, four, and they’re rolling on their board.

five, six, and they’re in the air, hand holding onto the middle of their deck.

seven, eight, nine, ten, and they’re soaring. the world is still for a moment, and they can see all of the library and the courtyard before them. they catch sight of their friends below, eyes alight at the sight because they know that this is the one they're going to land.

they landed with a solid clatter on two feet, the immense momentum rolling them quickly across the courtyard with their hands raised triumphantly in the air. they looked back at their friends cheering for them and mirrored their smiles – until they were interrupted by a crash that knocked them off their board and turned the world sideways. 

“ow, what the fuck!” someone yelled, followed by the sound of yn’s board crashing somewhere. they wouldn’t be surprised if their board broke with how much force it flew with, but for now they focused on sitting upright and blinking back the sting of their fall.

oh, they crashed into a bench. at least they landed the trick and got it on video too. they helped themselves onto their feet and jogged towards the direction of the yell and the crash.

before them were three guys around their age, two with weird hair and another with glasses. the tall one with black hair was on the ground, holding his head while the other two’s jaws were dropped. yn’s own eyes widened and they ran over, panic rising in their chest.

oh, fuck. it’s the guy from section that they saw from their peripherals and thought was kinda cute. and he is cute up close, with his dark messy hair, but this wasn’t the time to get nervous over their proximity to him.

“fuck, oh my god, fuck are you okay? i’m so sorry! oh my god, we have to call an ambulance or something what the fuck,” they immediately spilled, kneeling to his level to check the damage. there was no blood thankfully, but his chances of a concussion were high.

the voice of suna reached them from a few feet away. “yn, are you okay–oh, kuroo? bokuto?”

weird hair guy #2’s eyebrows rose with recognition. “suna! and tsumu! hey hey hey! could you give akaashi and i a hand here with kuroo?”

with yn’s now badly chipped board in hand, noya jogged up to the group and knelt where yn and kuroo were. “jeez, usually i’d say you’re fine but your head is bleeding a bit yn. c’mon, let’s get you two to urgent care.”

yn let noya pull them to their feet. he put their arm around his shoulders for support and watched bokuto support the cute guy the same way. glasses – or akaashi – didn't seem very phased and already had directions pulled up for urgent care. yn’s fingers grazed the side of their head, and when they took a look they saw bright red. yeah, noya was right about urgent care.

atsumu nodded to suna and osamu, car keys in hand. “i can drive us. ‘samu, suna, we’ll see you guys at home?”

“sure, text us if you need anything,�� osamu replied. it’s not like they were strangers to late night urgent care visits, not when he skated with yn so much and lived with two walking tornadoes named atsumu and noya.

once in atsumu’s car, yn slumped against the window, with noya crawling into the middle seat and akaashi coming in after. the ache in yn’s head worsened, and their shoulders were tense from their fall, the guilt and fear of giving this cute guy (kuroo, they now know) a concussion or worse, and the presence of people they didn’t know. did kuroo recognize them? should they just drop the class and jump off a cliff now so they don’t have to face him ever again after this?

noya’s elbow nudged them, and he offered them a kind grin. “hey, don’t worry too hard. he seems tough ‘cause if that was anyone else who took your board to the head, they’d probably be knocked out,” he spoke, voice low so that no one could hear him over atsumu’s radio, bokuto’s lively chatter about volleyball from the trunk, and kuroo’s grunts of response.

yn exhaled and let their head fall on noya’s shoulder, their own shoulders relaxing after being so tense. he was right — from the way kuroo’s friends acted, they seemed confident he would be fine after all.

“thanks, noya,” yn breathed with a small smile of their own as they pulled into the urgent care parking lot. yeah, as long as kuroo didn’t recognize them from class, they could get through this without dying of embarrassment.

masterlist | next

more:

⟢ everyone got home close to 3:30am. kuroo did have a concussion and yn had a nasty scratch on the side of their head, but it wasn’t that serious so they were in and out of urgent care pretty quick. usually they just take care of their own injuries tho

⟢ normally it takes yn a while to warm up to people, but because they had atsumu and noya with them they fed off their energy and are now well acquainted with bokuto, akaashi, and kuroo. they all played a lot of crazy 8 on game pigeon while waiting for kuroo's and yn's turns to get checked out

⟢ here’s a video of what the trick yn was practicing looks like ! imagine a couple less stairs but yeah, yn’s body is mostly made of steel since they’ve been skating forever. do not try this at home lmfao yn is just lowk crazy and has like no sense of danger when they skate they just see a trick and go like "yo lemme do that too" and they're still alive so it works for them

⟢ thankfully kuroo did not recognize yn! they sit on opposite sides of the classroom (kuroo by the window, yn by the door) and they both weren't paying attention to anyone's icebreakers. yn didnt plan on showing up to section anymore unless required anyway so this just gave them another reason to not show up

⟢ suna did end up rolling the cross joint while yn, atsumu, and noya were at urgent care. everyone smoked it together but not without forcing yn to debrief about kuroo and convincing them to text him

⟢ might upload what everyone's boards look like soon hmmmm

⟢ also im rusty and this isn't proofread please don't look too hard into my grammar ... hoping the time skips (afternoon to 2am) make sense and that i didnt leave any crazy plot holes alr LOLLLL please ignore timestamps

taglist: @eggyrocks @whorefornoodles @sereniteav @bedeater @itsdragonius @spicana @localgaytrainwreck @sunafc

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [7].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. the usual amount of swearing and ruining the lives of men, jay goes through an crisis, mentions of hairballs, mc is extra menacing this chapter. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. here....it is..... this has been long overdue and i'm so sorry AHAHAH but i did say that i'm gonna update this whenever i want. anyhow, this is the jay chapter! and i hope this makes up for the one month long delay! enjoy, please let me know what you think<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 7 — sexy goth jellyfish.

YOU DON’T THINK YOU’LL EVER GET SICK OF WAKING UP AND GETTING LULLED BACK TO SLEEP BY THE MOST COMFORTABLE MATTRESS IN THE WORLD. Seriously. You’re considering hoarding it back to your dorm once you leave at the end of the month. 

It’s the best thing about this house. The second best thing is having your breakfast cereal already laid out for you in the kitchen the moment you step downstairs. This princess treatment is going to get you spoiled. 

The odd thing about today, however, is that your usual bowl of Cheerios is nowhere in sight.

You rub your eyes, proceeding to squint at the counter because maybe you just aren’t awake enough yet. But it’s still not there. You look over to the sink. There is no evidence that someone ate your cereal. What happened? Did your cereal robot sleep in today? Did he die? Are you gonna have to make your own bowl of cereal from now on?

“Good morning.”

Sunghoon greets you upon walking into the living room, cereal-less and still groggy. Beomgyu is also there, cross legged on the couch and playing something on his phone. “Good—” you greet back, scratching your hand underneath your shirt with a big yawn, “—morning.” For some reason, Sunghoon suddenly looks scandalized. You ignore it and stretch out your arms above your head with another yawn.

“Please— oh my god, please don’t do that. I can see your un—underwear.”

You pause mid-stretch, arms up in the air, shirt hiking up a little. “What color?” you ask. 

“Grey! Why would you ask me that?!”

“Ooh, correct.” You drop your arms down. “I thought you were kidding. Sorry, my bad.”

You grin and shoot them a peace sign. “Sunghoon, go get the PD&J,” Beomgyu announces, eyes not leaving his phone. Your expression quickly moltens into a glare and a grimace. Dammit, you’ve been careful all this time. You blame your lack of early cereal nutrients for this carelessness.

“I’ll pay later,” you grunt. “Anway, where’s Jay? He didn’t make my cereal today so I’m assuming the worst.”

“Is he your slave?” you hear Beomgyu retort. You’ll deal with him later.

Thankfully, Sunghoon is normal(?) and answers your question promptly. “Out on the deck,” he tells you, and you look over to the open glass doors past your dining setup leading up to the sunlit deck outside. You squint, unable to spot a life form of any sort at first, but after a moment of letting your eyes wander, you finally see it.

Jay is laying flat on the wooden floor, shades on, facing directly at the sun. “What’s up with him?” you ask Sunghoon. There are pieces of paper with unidentifiable contents scattered around the motionless man. You fear he might be actually dead.

“He’s photosynthesizing,” he replies. You should’ve known better than to expect a correct answer.

“He’s not a plant,” you scrunch your nose. “It’s past nine. He’s not getting any more vitamin D at this hour.”

Sunghoon simply shrugs and Beomgyu is still busy yelling profanities at his phone. You sigh. Time to take care of things yourself, so saunter over to Jay’s tanning bed and crouch down near his head, arms crossed. Is he asleep? you furrow your brows and peer down a little closer. His pitch black sunglasses are making it impossible to tell.

“Wow. This is the first time I’ve seen you upside down.”

And he’s alive.

“Hey,” you call out. “What are you doing?”

Jay has his hands symmetrically placed on his abdomen, and he remains unmoving when he opens his mouth to reply. “Brooding,” he says, and you are granted more questions than answers. 

“Don’t people usually do that in the dark?”

“I don’t conform to society’s standards.” Jay sits up, so you lean back. You watch him as he adjusts the shades on his nose bridge, ruffles his hair as if there’s a camera pointed at him, then says, “I’m absolutely fucked. I don’t know what to do.”

Woah, there. Looks like Mr. Easygoing is going through some troubled waters.

“Alright.” You shuffle out of your crouching position, dropping to paneled wood to cross your legs for a more comfortable position. “Lay it on me,” you announce, ready to sunbathe and hear a very very long story.

Jay stares at you. There’s a wrinkle between his brows. 

“Go ahead.” You nod decidedly. 

After another pause, Jay shrugs and sets his head down on your crossed legs, laying back down but with you as his new pillow. That’s not what you meant, but you roll with it. This is an opportunity to braid knots his hair. “So I took a summer class, right,” he starts, and you dig your fingers into the dark strands. “Women’s wear design. Thought It’d be useful for androgynous clothing ideas, but anyway.”

Wow, it’s so soft, you think, finishing a single braid. “And then?”

“Well. For our final project, we need to have a live model to wear our design prototypes. To test their functionality and all. A friend of mine already agreed a few weeks ago, but she suddenly canceled yesterday, so I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.”

His hair slips out of your fingers. The gears in your brain start to churn. “When’s the presentation?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Have you asked someone else?”

“Yeah. I’ve already tried calling everyone I know.”

“And?”

“I ran out of people,” he says. “I’m screwed, right?”

“I feel like there’s more to this.”

A third voice suddenly pops up and you flinch. “Holy shit,” you turn to see Heeseung sitting next to you. He looks like he’s been there for a while and you make your surprise very evident by how wide your eyes are staring at him. Jay props up, also looking at him. “When did you get here?”

Heeseung ignores you. “Jay,” he starts. You’re gonna get back at him for that. “What did you tell Eunmi when you asked for her help for the project?” 

Eunmi is a familiar name. You’re pretty sure she’s the one that stormed out of the house the other day. “I told her that I had a problem and asked if she could do me a favor.

Your brows knit together. Wait a minute. “And what else did you say?”

“I also asked if she didn’t mind taking her clothes off,” he says. “Why?”

Silence sets in. It simmers for a while. You and Heeseung share a look. “Jay,” you call out. He gets off of your lap and sits up, turning to face you. You press your lips together. How do you break it to him? 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure she thought you were asking to hook up.”

You double over and nearly let out a gasp. So the mysophobe isn’t hasn’t completely eroded his social awareness. You are both horrified and impressed, and he’s looking at you like he can hear your thoughts, visibly offended. 

“Heeseung’s right. Girlie probably thought you’d be using your measuring tape for something else outside of measuring.” They both give you a look. Maybe you gave Heeseung too much credit. “What? After measuring her tits and ass, imagine her disappointment when you went off to measure her ankles next.” 

“Well, I’m a fashion major, what did she expect?” 

“I don’t know, maybe some dressmaker-themed BDSM shit!” you huff. “Don’t you know you know anyone else that can model for you?”

“I’m pretty sure all the girls in his contacts have him blocked,” Heeseung says. 

You grunt and lean back, the deck warm on your palms. “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but—” You sigh. Your shoulders slack, and you run your fingers through your scalp with a deep inhale. Jay and Heeseung nudge themselves closer. You give them three more seconds of suspenseful silence— one…two…three. 

“But we don’t have much of a choice.” 

His dumb sunglasses are still keeping his eyes hidden, but you’re pretty sure Jay is looking at you like you’re the second coming of Christ. On the other hand, Heeseung looks suspicious. You assure them that you’ll take care of, telling Jay to go upstairs and prepare his design prototype in case he needs to make any alterations, and Heeseung follows you to the living room, where Sunghoon and Beomgyu are still lounging around.

They turn their heads the moment you enter. Sunghoon and Heeseung’s eyes are trained on you as you approach Beomgyu, who has now settled down his phone to give you a disgruntled expression— impatient and nervous because, “what the fuck are you up to this time?” he voices out. You spare him an extra second of agony and tell him what you came for.

When the words leave your mouth, Beomgyu nearly chokes on the air.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

His eyes are wide, looking up at you. 

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you can pretend to be a woman for a day,” you repeat. Beomgyu is looking at you like you’re insane. 

“What the fuck?”

“C’mon!” you exclaim, hopping down on the plush sofa cushion next to him and he jumps and flinches away. There’s a reason why you adore fucking with Beomgyu the most. “It’ll only be for a day! Do it for Jay! Whoa. That rhymes.”

“Why me?!” he shrieks. The reason is he fights back. He makes it all the more satisfying when he inevitably admits defeat. 

“Because you’re arguably the prettiest one of the lot!” You bounce closer, trapping his between the armrest and your enthusiasm to see him in a fucking dress. “Have I ever told you that your eyes are like, really, really pretty? And your facial structure is already so nice and elegant, I really don’t need to do anything with makeup, you’re already perfect!” 

With each word you utter and with each centimeter you lean closer, Beomgyu’s face gets increasingly redder and brighter. “Your— your flattery won’t convince me to fucking cross dress in public, you psychos!” 

Before you can get the chance to say ‘so you don’t mind doing it in private?’ Beomgyu tries pushing you off, but he’s too flustered to put any strength in. The opportunity to grab his wrists and pull him closer simply just presents itself. “C’mon!” you tug him in. “Swallow the toxic masculinity, Beomgyu! I believe in you!”

“No!”

He manages to roll off the sofa and retreat to his room. As Beomgyu’s heavy and hasty footsteps fill the air, the sound growing weaker by the second, you turn over to Sunghoon, who is sitting on the individual seat. He meets your eyes. “No,” he says before you could open your mouth. “Absolutely not.”

Sunghoon doesn’t waste a second to get up and follow Beomgyu’s escape pattern. “Sunghoon! Sunghoon, wait!” you yell after him. When he pads up the stairs, you stop at the bottom of the flight and watch as he scurries up the floor. “Are you upset that you’re the second choice? That doesn’t mean anything! You’re pretty too! I love your nose and your pretty face moles and—”

And he is gone. You turn back. “Well, I tried,” you shrug. Heeseung is wearing an expression you can only describe as severe perturbation. “Soobin and Jake aren’t home. That’s a bummer.” Then again, Jake would probably be down for it, which is no fun. And you can’t risk making Soobin cry again. Your list of crimes is already long enough. Beomgyu has the copy. 

“Of all the solutions you could come up with, I didn't think you’d go for the crossdressing route.”

Heeseung is leaning against the sofa, arms resting on top of its plush back. “Actually, I never even considered it,” he adds. “I thought you’d volunteer to model for him yourself.”

You make your way back to the living area with a yawn. Shrugging, you say, “I am.”

His brows scrunch, eyes narrowed. “Then why did you—” Heeseung stops thinking. He gives you a look of distaste. “You’re pretty evil, you know that?”

A laugh escapes your lips, and you hop on the couch Heeseung is leaning again. He visibly flinches when you do, but he doesn’t move away. So you sit up with your legs still on the sofa, knees sinking into the cushions, and you poke your nose forward so that it nearly bumps into his. 

“What are you—”

You inch your face closer. “It’s not my fault that you guys are easy targets.” You can literally hear his breath getting taken away. You flash him a wide grin. 

“Calm down. I’m moving away, moving away. No need to run.” When you flop back to lie on the sofa, Heeseung’s pink-tinted face is in full view, and he’s trying his best to hide it from you all while still trying to shoot you a glare. At some point he’s going to snap at you, for sure. Until that happens, you’re free to mess with him. “Anyway, I’ll be off to Jay’s secret lair. That is unless you man up and take one for the team, and—”

“Bye.”

Like the other two, Heeseung stomps away. You let out a huff of air. “You’re all weak as shit,” you call out. Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to give one of them a makeover. Maybe one day you can paint their nails and do their eyeliner.

Jay can’t express just how grateful he is for you.

No, really. He can’t. He tried telling you that he owes you his life when you told him not to worry about it and just go upstairs and prepare his things, but all that jumped out of his mouth is a measly, “you’re so cool,” before leaving you with Heeseung. 

That won’t do it. He’s gonna say thank you and a million more once you show up in the storage room-turned-office-slash-workspace next to his bedroom, and you’re going to be so impressed by his thanking skills. But the feeling is all muffled and fuzzy inside his chest— like a way too stubborn hairball he can’t cough out. So when you knock on his door and take a peek inside the extension of his room, all he can say is, “I made the carpet. Pretty cool, right?”

“Oh!”

Jay watches as you crouch down almost immediately upon his mention, feeling the mishmas of fabric texture with your palms. Your hands are running through a patch of faux fur, stitched to some leftover corduroy. You’re stepping on denim, and in between you and him is a large swab of linen. “Holy shit. This is pretty cool.”

There’s a thump in his chest. He’s pretty sure you’re the first person to say that after the other dozen people that have been here before you.

Then again, Jay’s pretty sure you’re the first for him on a lot of things.

He fears the hairball lodged in his throat just multiplied.

“So.” You pull yourself up from the ground. “What are we doing?”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Let me show you the clothes first. It’s a dress. It may not look like one, but trust me it is a dress—” he quickly explains, walking over to the mannequin in the corner of the room, pulling it out from the corner with a bit of a struggle because the wheels get caught in the stringy fabric of his carpet. “You can try it on, but it’s made with Eunmi’s measurements. Tell me if anything doesn’t fit right so I can alter it.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “Hey, I may make fun of you guys a lot, but this time I’m being serious— this is so cool! What the hell, Jay?”

Well, that was a surprise. He didn’t think you’d like wearing something so avant garde. After Eunmi’s reaction to seeing it, he was pretty sure you’d be hesitant. “This will swallow my entire figure! I’d look like a jellyfish! You know what, I was already disappointed when you suddenly started jotting down my arm width. I’m going home. Don’t call me,” was what she said before storming off. But you’re all ooh’s and aah’s as you dig your nose into the thin sheets of intricately sewn on sheer, black fabric. 

“I was also serious about the carpet. Hold on let me try this on—”

You struggle taking the dress off of the mannequin. Jay helps you out. “You can change in my room.”

“Gotchu,” you shoot him a thumbs up, running off to the door with the dress flowing in your hands. “Don’t you dare peek. I don’t have any more spare change to throw into that stupid jar.”

“What if I pay for you?”

“Great. Door’s unlocked. Open if you have the balls.” Then you close the door with a still thinly open gap. It’s really is easy to talk to you. You don’t give him a weird look after he says a few words. He can hear your swearing slipping out of the crack in the door. Maybe he should have left you to fend for yourself against his admittedly unconventionally constructed dress.

“Need any help?” he asks, hesitantly inching towards the door.

“I can handle it— fuck, wait, where is my neck supposed to—”

After hearing a thump from inside the room, Jay believes he might have to intervene, else it’ll end up with either a torn ligament or a torn three month long project. He lands a knock on the door. “I think you need my help.”

“Give me a minute! I got this!” A minute. He starts counting down from sixty. And mentally counting down in nothing but silence and the occasional profanities from the other room is giving him some time to think. To think about how even though he’s gone through numerous dates, talked to numerous women, but for some reason they never last long. Well, all except you. You and his mother.

He’s lost count of the times he’s been ghosted (a ghost dress does sound like a pretty good idea), but the times they do communicate— they all communicate with a very familiar script:

“Maybe we should start seeing other people.”

Maybe his bonfire joke wasn’t as funny as he thought.

“Hey, Jay, is it supposed to look like this?” you call out before his sixty second countdown is over. “I think I’m wearing it wrong.”

When he opens the room to his door with a creak, his breath hitches in his throat. 

And it’s not the metaphorical hairball that’s been annoying him. Shit. Something about seeing you in a design he’s crafted with his own hands, conjured up with his own brain, is tying all sorts of knots in his stomach. Even when you put your arm in the wrong hole.

“You’re wearing it wrong.” Jay walks up to you next to the bed. The clothes you’ve shedded on in lieu of the dress he made is scattered on his mattress. He swallows hard before laying a discreet hand on your shoulder, tugging on a loose part of the clothing to reveal the armhole.

“Oh! That explains a lot,” you say, slotting in your arm into the correct gap this time. The dress still looks a little off. “I haven’t zipped it up yet. Can you help me?”

He lets out a cough. “Sure.”

Ah, what is going on with him? He’s been sleeping in this same room for nearly a year now, but for some reason the air right now is arid and stuffy and it’s making his head spin. Jay turns you around, a hand on your hip, and zips up the dress that suddenly feels like fire. That doesn’t make sense. It’s supposed to mimic water. Why the hell are his palms burning? 

The moment the dress is secured, you quickly look into the mirror. “What...what do you think?” he asks hesitantly. Maybe you don’t like it as much anymore now that it’s on you. Maybe the dress is also burning you. Maybe this design is a failure after all— and he feels that fear being confirmed when your back is turned towards him, and you spend a good minute looking at yourself in the mirror in silence. 

Dammit. The damned hairball is back in his lungs.

“I feel…” you start talking. His heart is pounding. Holy shit, he’s never felt this nervous before. “I feel like a sexy goth jellyfish. This is crazy. I love it.”

And just like that, air starts flowing back into his chest.

“Exactly!” 

He grabs you by the arm, spinning you around so he can look at you, and the dress fabric flitters along in the air. “Whoa!” you squeak out. He steadies you by the arms. You look at him, wide eyed.

Jay breath’s are bated. The sunglasses he’s got perched on his nose this entire time got crooked from the rush, falling down to the tip of his nose, revealing a look on his eyes that he didn’t know he was capable of making. “You get me,” he breathes out. “You totally get me.”

Something swirls inside the confines of his room. It’s dark. The only light coming in is from the crack into his office and the warm bedside lamp you turned on.

The both of you stay like this for a moment. Until there’s a knock on his door and a voice rips through all of the tension.

“Okay, fine!” 

It’s Beomgyu’s voice entering the room along with the sound of the door swinging open. 

Creak!

“Fucking fine, I’m going to do it. I’m going to do it as long as—”

It’s not just him. Heeseung and Sunghoon are also there, squeezed between the frame of his now open door. “Oh,” someone says out loud. He’s unsure who. “Oh.”

Somehow, Jay isn’t feeling your arms anymore. He blinks, and you’re not in front of him anymore. He turns his head and sees you in between him and the three other guys outside. “Are you ready to become a sexy jellyfish, Beomgyu?” you taunt, moving further away from him by the second. 

Beomgyu looks at him. Then you. Then keeps his eyes on you. “I never said anything. I’m gonna go—”

“C’mon! Don’t I look great? You’d look just as— no, maybe even prettier than me if you wear— wait!”

And just like that you and his dress project run away from the room. Sunghoon’s head whips back and forth between him and wherever you’ve run off to before going after you and Beomgyu as well. Heeseung stays, albeit out the door. “So, did it go well?” he asks. Jay is still staring at the spot where you’d left.

“It went well,” he replies. “I think I’m gonna get a good grade.”

Well that’s not the only conclusion he’s come up with after all that. In spite of the loud noises, the yelling outside, and the threat of his dress getting ripped apart in the crossfire, he’s sure of two things. He is not only sure that he’s gonna ace this final summer project— Jay is sure that he might have just half fallen in love with you, too.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・779 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・hyunjin x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・fluff, established relationship, intentional lowercase / 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲・inspired by That ig post and my own recent visit to tokyo. happy birthday, @astraystayyh; consider this my official proposal (˘⌣˘ )♡

𝟭𝟳:𝟱𝟮 — when you slip out the hotel’s double doors, you’re stunned to find the world has gone completely dark.

just a few hours ago, you were oohing and ahhing at the colorful chaos of tokyo as the van trudged slowly along the jammed freeway. now, blue has been overtaken by obsidian, and the illuminated city sprawls beneath an invisible horizon like stars plucked from the empty sky.

“the sun sets early here, huh?” hyunjin hums as he appears at your side. his dark hair is scented and silky from his shower, his broad shoulders outlined by the denim trench coat he’s thrown over a black turtleneck—the most beautiful boy on earth, and he’s yours.

“i was j-just thinking that,” you answer through chattering teeth, and your boyfriend’s chuckle hits the air in the form of a silver cloud.

“i told you you’d need this.”

he drapes a puffer jacket around you; his arm follows, draws you near. you slot into his side perfectly.

“better?”

your eyes lock with hyunjin’s, then flicker downwards. the doormen are busy loading a luggage cart. the foyer is empty for the most part. empty enough. 

“better,” you respond, moments before you lose yourself in the warm pressure of his lips.

soft hair tickles your cheeks like butterfly wings. hyunjin’s been tempted to cut it recently, complaining that it’s getting too long. you’ve been rejecting the notion vehemently, and this is one of many reasons why. your fingers skim over the base of his neck, and the air that hyunjin sucks through his teeth whistles past your parted mouth.

“cold,” he whines. 

a giggle escapes your throat. “sorry.”

recently, your and hyunjin’s schedules have been clashing so awfully that you really only see each other before and after bed. both of you are well accustomed to these cycles of mutual scarcity by now; it is enough, during such times, just falling asleep to the sound of the other’s voice, or waking to kisses scattered across every inch of exposed skin and a quiet, melancholy “see you tonight, angel.”

but then, you miraculously stumble upon a free weekend that coincides with the last leg of hyunjin’s tour. he’s on the phone with staff within seconds of hearing the news; your boarding pass arrives in your inbox later that night; now, here you are, in japan on a friday night, burrowed in your boyfriend’s arms, your sights set on a tiny udon joint in the back alleys of shinjuku.

going out in public with hyunjin feels like you’re playing poker. dispatch is your opponent and the deck is always rigged. ninety-nine percent of the time, you prefer to circumvent the game entirely. 

you’re all in, tonight.

“it’s a twenty-seven minute walk.” dark locks fall into hyunjin’s face as he looks at the navigation app on his phone. “is that okay?”

“you tell me. you’re the one who rehearsed for three hours today." you reach for the loose strands; tuck them behind the cuff of his ear. “maybe we should just take the subway.”

“but i wanna explore the city with you.”

“and we can, after your concerts.”

“i only have you for two days. let’s start now.”

the funny look you give him says, we have an apartment together, idiot, and he hastens to add—

“okay, i only have you here for two days. it’s different.”

that, you can’t argue with. hyunjin takes your lack of a retort as his cue to begin your journey, dragging the both of you onto the sidewalk. 

“i will not be the one answering to chan when you oversleep tomorrow,” you mumble.

his hand stretches out where it rests on your shoulder, silently asking for yours. you oblige before you even process his request, your fingers sliding thoughtlessly in the spaces between his.

“deal.” hyunjin presses a swift kiss to your temple, your eye squinting shut at the contact.

if you’re being honest, you hardly remember the walk to the restaurant. all the bright lights are beautiful but get old quickly, eventually blurring into a forgettable, fluorescent mass.

what you do remember is hyunjin’s excited gasp when he recognizes the anime being advertised on a distant billboard. hyunjin’s flawless japanese as he helps an old couple with directions, and the proud smile he wears afterward (he’s been practicing). hyunjin’s fingers pulling you close by the loops of your jeans, his mouth slanting over yours for the ninth, tenth time with no justification except for you’re just so pretty. hyunjin’s hair fluttering over his eyes when he tilts his head at the camera, the resulting picture so maddeningly beautiful that it becomes your new wallpaper right away.

what you do remember from that evening, and what you would remember in every iteration of your life, is hyunjin.

(you remember the udon, too. it was very good.)

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Decorations | Juraj Slafkovský

wc. 1.3k

You offer to help Juraj decorate his apartment for Christmas

Juraj had been jumping from place to place ever since he had come to Montreal. He didn’t mean to, he should have planned better in hindsight, but his rookie season had come as a whirlwind followed by a particularly cursed season and that was the only thing that seemed to kick his butt into gear. 

He moved into a decent apartment during the off season, a one bedroom with a spacious living room and kitchen that he already felt like he didn’t spend enough time in during the hockey season. He tried his best to decorate, get some comfy furniture and put up family photos but he eventually gave up. 

Well, until he met you. 

You had been living in your apartment for two years now and still had not finished decorating. For some reason, you were changing the theme of your space constantly, something that drove your family mad whenever they visited. 

You loved to decorate. From your car to your kitchen every space you spent a long time in had to be decorated to the nines. You knew that you’d be worse off staring at blank walls and zero color surrounding you for hours on end. You loved the inspiration that came to you when you walked into a room and immediately came up with a vision for what the space could look like. You liked flexing that creative muscle in any way shape or form that you could. 

You were hauling up some particularly interesting rolls of patterned wallpaper when you met Juraj. You hadn’t seen him in the building before and he offered you a soft smile as you waited for the elevator. 

“Would you like some help?” he asks, gesturing to the four rolls of heavy wallpaper leaning against you. 

“Uh yes actually please,” you say. 

Juraj is quick to grab three of the rolls of wallpaper even though you insist you can handle at least two and help you haul them into the elevator. 

“Did you just move in?” he asks and you shake your head, trying to meet the eyes of the taller boy. Your head tilts back and you start to size him up, figuring he has to be at least six foot and definitely works out somewhat regularly with how easy he carries your items. 

“Ah no,” you admit sheepishly. “Just decorating again.” 

Juraj hums at this and when the elevator dings for your floor he lets you out first and then follows you to your door. You dig your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door before shouldering your way inside. You instantly drop the first set of wallpaper rolls on the ground near your door before pushing it farther open and helping Juraj inside. 

“Woah,” you hear him mutter when he sees your apartment decked out in color from head to toe. No wonder you seemed shy when he asked if you had just moved in. It looked like you had lived here for your whole life with the way the place was so personally decorated. 

He places the wallpaper down on the ground, propping it against the hallway wall and continues his perusal of your apartment. He notices the couch is the only thing that seems worn and out of place in the whole apartment so far. It’s black with the leather worn and faded in places. 

“Thank you again,” you say and when you trail off Juraj suddenly realizes you’re waiting for his name. 

“Juraj,” he says, his accent tickling your ears in a way that makes your body involuntarily shiver. 

“(y/n).” 

After that first encounter, you happened to run into Juraj occasionally. It turns out he lived on the same floor as you, moved in during the summer, and that he was a hockey player for the Montreal Canadiens. Your conversations had seemed to only last the duration of an elevator ride or a quick pause in the hallway but you had been dying for more ever since you met the young man. 

“Hold the elevator!” you called out, rushing forward with several bags on your arms and a string of lights falling off your neck. 

“Woah,” Juraj lets out when he sees you enter the elevator in a huff. 

“Oh, hi,” you greet, cheeks growing hot at the sight of him. 

“Decorating again?”

“Just for Christmas,” you explain and Juraj nods slowly. 

“I don’t think I’m going to decorate this year,” he admits to you quietly and your face morphs into a frown, one that Juraj realizes tugs at his heart when he sees it. 

“My family hasn’t been able to make it here for the holidays yet and I haven’t had time to go home during Christmas either,” he explains and you nod in understanding. 

The elevator dings at the arrival of your apartment floor and Juraj quietly grabs a couple of bags off your arm before gesturing for you to exit the elevator first. You start to walk towards your apartment but veer in the other direction and head towards Juraj’s instead. 

“Uh, (y/n)?” Juraj calls out behind you but you don’t stop until you’re in front of his apartment door. 

“Come on,” you say and Juraj’s face is full of confusion as he approaches you. 

“We’re decorating your apartment.” 

“No you don’t have to,” he begins but you shake your head. 

“Everyone deserves a bit of the Christmas magic around them at this time of year. Now open the door or I will pick the lock myself.” 

Your declaration is so serious on your face Juraj can’t help but believe you. Through the shuffle of multiple bags he digs out his key and lets the two of you into the apartment. You had seen the inside of his apartment maybe twice since you had met Juraj and both times it looked the exact same as it did now. 

Juraj once explained to you that he spent more time in an ice rink than in his own apartment and that decorating felt like a waste to him at some point. Why spend time and money on a place that he was never in? You made a mental note to give him some decorations for Christmas so the place could look a bit more like he lived there at least before continuing into his space. 

“Okay I say we start with hanging up lights throughout the living room and then add a stocking or two on your mantle and then,”

“You don’t have to do this,” Juraj reminds you, catching your arm in his grasp and you don’t miss the way your skin tingles at his touch. 

“I want to,” you remind him and his smile lights up his face. 

The two of you spend the next two hours decorating his place from head to toe. You went through all the bags of stuff you bought for your place and even made a trip or two out to your apartment to grab a couple of special items to really make the place pop. By the end, it looked like the north pole had thrown up in Juraj’s apartment and you loved every bit of it. 

Christmas lights were hung up strategically around the living room, ribbon tied around his kitchen cabinets to make it look like a present with a bow on it, stocking on the mantle of his living room, and a plastic mini tree sat on his kitchen table, an old decoration from your childhood home. 

“Ta da,” you exclaim with dorky jazz hands when the two of you finish and Juraj laughs lightly at the words. 

“Thank you,” he says, turning to face you fully. “I really appreciate this.” 

“No one should be alone during the holidays and especially not in an undecorated apartment,” you tell him, nudging him with your shoulder and his smile never fades from his face. 

“Well, would you like to have dinner with me sometime during this holiday season then? I’d hate for us to be alone.” 

“It’s a date.” 

[starhoppin]

pick a picture; your next soul lesson

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「pile one」

[the lesson]

pleasure (cb: temperance, queen of pentacles rv)

the next soul lesson that you will experience is that you are meant to open yourself up to the good things in life. while i was channeling your energy, i was overcome with an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and stress - i think that is your current energy. there is a message that you're lacking balance in your life; all work and no fun. you may have a tendency to overwork yourself but don't necessarily reap the benefits of what you earn.

[what you are meant to learn]

life is meant to be enjoyed, not endured. you are meant to find the balance between work and play - but right now, you're being encouraged to focus on fun!

[advice]

creativity, invention

indulge in creative outlets. whatever you are called to - music, art, writing - do not worry about if the product is not perfect. simply focus on creating!

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

「pile two」

[the lesson]

self-esteem (cb: nine of cups rv, six of wands rv)

your next soul lesson is rebuilding your self-esteem. i think there was a recent event in your past where you suffered from a significant loss or failure. regardless of what it was, it significantly impacted the way you view yourself. i keep hearing the words "ego death." you may have lost sight of what you wanted to do in life or simply just suffered from a loss of confidence in yourself because of this event.

[what you are meant to learn]

you are meant to learn that outside opinions do not matter. trust yourself; relying on others for validation or approval will only leave you feeling empty when they are not willing to shower you with it. stand up for yourself and your beliefs - you are not meant to abandon yourself in favor of winning the approval of others.

[advice]

grace (cb: the hierophant rv, queen of wands)

it's okay to go against the grain. you're meant to stand out and shine; do not let others dim your light. i heard "give yourself grace." feel your feelings, but do not let doubt or shame consume you. oftentimes when people are openly judgemental, they are simply jealous that they can't be as open and confident as others are.

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

「pile three」

[the lesson]

deprivation (cb: nine of cups, death rv)

i think that there is something that you are ignoring in your life. i get a strong feeling that you are putting up a confident facade that everything is okay in your life - almost like if you keep telling that to others, you will eventually believe it too. i think you are depriving yourself of feeling your feelings and consequently, you are prolonging this cycle in your life. while i was trying to channel your energy, i kept getting distracted by random things. i believe you may be filling your time with countless distractions since you are afraid or unwilling to be alone with your thoughts. i see an image of someone scrolling on their phone while simultaneously watching T.V., as well as someone blaring music through their headphones to drown out their thoughts.

[what you are meant to learn]

invention (cb: six of wands rv, four of swords)

your next soul lesson is that you are meant to allow yourself to rest and feel your emotions. you cannot move past this pain or failure by simply ignoring it. pain demands to be felt, it will not disappear until you acknowledge it. although this isn't the advice section, your guides/universe/spirit are encouraging you to use your preferred creative outlet to express these emotions.

[advice]

devotion

you're being called to spend time in nature. connect back with the earth and take in the natural beauty of the world. it will help.

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

tarot decks used in this reading: ask your guides oracle deck, and the linestrider tarot.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Dudeeee love your writing omggggg 🤰🤰🤰🛐🛐🛐

Just wondering if you could do Law reacting to the reader saying 'put a baby in me' during sex. Like imagine him just losing it 😩😩😩

OBSESSED with this bye. I'm in a Law phase and this sent me to the MOON.

Come on, Daddy.

Pairing: Law x afab!Reader

TW: Unprotected sex, Creampies, Breeding, Pet Names, Oral sex (f receiving), doggy style, missionary, do not try this at home kids!

————

Today was your anniversary. Yours and Law’s second official anniversary, to be specific. This was actually the first anniversary of yours that you have actually celebrated… at this time last year you hadn’t exactly told the rest of the crew… wanting to keep it to yourselves for as long as possible. A captain having an intimate relationship with a crew mate? It seemed a bit taboo. But eventually, after being discovered having a *ahem* private moment with your captain by Penguin, it was revealed to the rest of the crew that yes, you and Law were indeed a “thing.” 

— — 

You still tried to keep it private as much as you could, no PDA or anything else that might make the crew uncomfortable. But during many nights of drinking, your fellow crew mates couldn’t help but tease you about your status with the captain. 

“I’d love to get out of kitchen duty tomorrow, but I guess I can’t since I’m not Captain’s Favorite” Shachi would yell out looking directly at you. You roll your eyes. 

“Mine is next week, dickhead. I don’t get out of anything.” You snip back at him without looking up from your News Coo.

“Yeah but you could! I don’t know why you never use it to your advantage! One blowie and you could skip mopping floors for a week! He’s so whipped for you.”Shachi crossed his arms and slunk back in his chair. 

“You guys suck, sorry you have big crushes on your captain or whatever.” You stand up and leave the conversation, having had enough stupidity and enough beer for the evening. 

— —

Now that your relationship is public, Law had no issue telling the crew to make themselves scarce for the day while he treated you on your anniversary. He made sure the Polar Tang was in range of an inhabited island just in time for this day so he could take you out for a meal and some fresh air. 

You spent the afternoon in your room getting dolled up for your hot date with the doctor. You took a long bath, shaving and washing your hair, then spritzing your neck and wrists with a warm-smelling vanilla spiced perfume. You knew this was Law’s favorite on you. Remembering that fact, you bent forward and sprayed the perfume on the inside of your ankles and smirked to yourself. You curled your hair into soft waves and applied your makeup before slipping a silk black dress over your head. You slid on your black heels and took a look in the mirror. The black dress flattered your body and the thin fabric barely shielded your nipples from sight. 

“Not bad.” You smile at yourself and do a little twirl in your mirror. 

You grab your purse and head out to the deck to meet your boyfriend. You open the door to the deck and see Law chatting and laughing with his crew mates. He was also dressed to the nines, dress slacks as apposed to his usual denim. Of course, he still had his hat on. God forbid he forego that damn hat. 

“Wow, don’t hurt ‘em Captain!” Penguin teased Law about his cleaned up appearance. They all chuckled but as soon as they spotted you, their laughter ceased and they eyed your gorgeous visage. 

“Oh sweets, you look…” Law spoke as he started walking towards you. “Absolutely delicious…” His eyes did a quick once over of your figure before he smirked at your face. You blushed. 

“Well… shall we, haha?” You giggled nervously having all the eyes of the crew on you, wanting to hurry on to your date. 

Law chuckled at your nervousness. “Let’s shall.” Law wrapped his arm around your waist and led you down the gangplank to shore the island. 

You eased at his silly response, he was in a good mood today. He was free from work, and has his whole time and attention to give to you… and not to mention how fucking sexy you look for him tonight. 

He held your hip closely as you strolled down the town’s streets. You couldn’t help but revel in this fantasy of being a normal couple. Not a pirate life, but a domestic one. No more battles with other warlords or the government, no more fast paced escape plans, no more fighting to make a name in the New World… What if? This island seemed nice… what if you just stayed here? You had plenty enough for a house. You could stay here and be a real couple, pop out a couple of kids, be a real family. 

You shook yourself out of your daydream as Law stopped in front of you to open the door to the restaurant. He let you pass before him and you both entered and got a table. He ordered you both a bottle of wine immediately, so you could begin to celebrate as soon as possible. After you got your wine he grabbed his glass and raised it. 

“To the best two years of my life. I love you, y/n.” He used his spare hand to stroke your hand on top of the white tablecloth. 

“I love you too, Law.” You clinked your glass with his and made a loud “mmm” as the expensive wine hit your tongue. You both made quick work of the wine and were enjoying your dinner while making conversations that you wouldn’t have around your crew. 

“No no, I swear, like he’s SUCH a little weirdo-“ You laughed out as you took another sip of wine before dessert. “He like was next to me and our hands were tied and all he had to say was ‘is there food here?’ Like? Who thinks of that at a time like that?” Law let out a deep laugh with his head back. 

“Straw Hat is a weird dude, I can tell you that… Hold on, the waiter has been taking too long, I’ll go see what that’s all about.” Law said as he rose from his seat. 

“Oh honey, it’s fine, we aren’t in a rush.” You cooed at him, enjoying your evening regardless of how long dessert took to come out from the kitchen. 

“Listen, y/n, that dress? I can’t look at it much more without ripping it off you, I kind of am in a rush.” 

You blushed as he went to go find the waiter. You took another big sip of wine. 

“Excuse me miss…” You felt a tap on your shoulder. It was a very elderly woman with a cane, coming to inquire something of you. 

“Yes ma’am, can I help you?” You politely answer. 

“How long have you and your husband been together?” She inquired further. 

“Oh um… Oh he and I… we aren’t- we aren’t married, actually! Just um… seeing each other!” You stutter out. The old lady smiles down at you. 

“Well, you certainly will be! I was seated behind you, and I saw the way he looks at you. It’s been almost a century since I’ve seen anyone look like that! You’re soulmates, dear, I can tell. I bless you both in your future!” 

“T-thank you, I um… I love him very much…” You didn’t know what to say. The old lady warmly taps your shoulder. 

“I know you do, dear.” She heads to the exit slowly and you can’t help but smile. It was obvious to strangers how close you bond was, you couldn’t wait to get him home and feel him even closer. Law tracks down your dessert and you enjoy it with each other over the dregs of your second bottle of wine. 

“Excuse me, Mr Trafalgar, Sir, I would just like to let you know, your bill has been taken care of.” The waiter said as he approached your table. 

“What? We aren’t a charity case, what are you talking about?” Law is incredibly confused. 

“Was it… was it an old lady?” You chirp up at the waiter. 

“It was, she didn’t leave her name.”

“Well if she comes back again… tell her thank you. Come on, love.” You prompt your boyfriend and he gets up from his seat to pull out your chair. 

—

“What was that about?” Law asked you while swinging your hands together in a tipsy manner as you walked back to the ship together. 

“Honestly? I have no idea!” You laughed while trying to keep balance on your heels on the cobblestone sidewalk. “Some ancient broad came over and said she could tell you were in love with me, and walked away!” You giggled again. 

“Oh really?!” Law suddenly picks you up underneath your butt and hoists you up against his chest. He spins you around in a circle before lowering you to kiss you softly on the lips. “How would anyone get the idea that I’m completely in love with you.” He laughs. 

“Baby… come on, let’s get back to the ship.” You giggled while grabbing his hand again to pull him quickly back to the Polar Tang. You laughed like school kids as you jogged towards the ship. 

—

Your back hit the cold metal wall of Law’s captains quarters on the sub. Law was pushing you up against it by holding your thighs, attacking your exposed collarbone with sucks and bites. 

“Law, please…” You moan out as he man handles your body against the wall. 

“My pretty girl wants more? Of course she does…” He slurs out as he bites the crux of your neck. “Gonna make you scream tonight, baby…” 

With this, he throws your body onto his unmade bed. He hovers over you as he shimmies your dress over your head, revealing your fully nude body to him. 

“No panties tonight, huh? You must have been expecting to get fucked… dirty girl…” Law slides his hand up your torso to pinch at your nipple, eliciting a whine from your lips. “Tell me baby, did you want to get fucked tonight?” He switches his hand to your other nipple. 

“Yes! Yes I wanted you to fuck me so badly, Law!” You desperately keen into his touch. He chuckles menacingly. “Hold these. I’m hungry again.” He grans your hands and pushes them to grab the backs of your thighs, holding them up and spread for him as he gazes at your dripping sex. “Mmm… smells so sweet, pretty girl.” Law leans forward and inhales your scent. “Gotta taste it…” 

Law dives in and flicks his tongue on your clit. You moan and fist one of your hands in his black hair, making his hat slightly off center.  He moves your hand back to your thigh. 

“Need you to keep ‘em spread for me. Just take it.” He slurped again at your clit and your back arches in pleasure. 

His spit combined with your arousal was starting to drip down to your ass and the feeling turned you on further. Law ate your sensitive little pussy with a fervor you’ve only ever experienced with him, he got off on seeing you melt under his tongue. 

After several more minutes of working your clit expertly, you feel that familiar tensing in your lower body begin to heighten. 

“Baby I’m gonna- fuck!” You cry out as you let the feeling take over your body. 

“There it is! Yes, so good my sweet girl! So pretty when you cum like that.” Law slobbers out as he enthusiastically slurps down your release. 

After coming down from your orgasm, you feel Law’s presence leave your bed. He was stripping his body of his fancy slacks and dress shirt. His hat went last. 

“Turn over, sweets.” Law lovingly strokes the outside of your thighs as you shakily get on all fours for him. He starts rubbing his leaking cock against your sopping folds, so engorged and sensitive from your orgasm. “Can you take it, baby? For me?” He dips his fat cock head in and out of your leaking hole slowly and teasingly. 

“YES LAW! Please put it in! I need it! Please…” You arch your back, trying desperately to get him to push fully into you. 

“Anything for you…” And with that, Law plunges himself into your warm hole. You both moan and clench your fists, yours around the sheets and his around the flesh of your ass. He was hitting the most important spot inside of you as he languidly pulled out and pushed back in. 

“Aaah… Law… Love you… So much…” You manage to get out as your head is sideways against the pillow in front of you. 

“Love you sweets… so much… FUCK, this pussy is so perfect… can’t believe it’s all mine…” Law growls out at you. He slaps your right ass cheek, hard. You gush out more arousal onto his shaft and balls. 

“YES daddy! It’s yours! It’s yours!” You cry out, drunk on the pleasure he was giving you. 

Law cocks his head at you as he slows his hips. You had never called him that before. He had no idea how badly it would turn him on… He continued fucking into you at a fast past, groaning every time you could clench around him. 

“Daddy! Please! Put a fucking baby in me! Please, daddy!” You called out to him, lust completely taking over your brain. You wanted to feel him claim you, making you his forever indisputably. You felt his thrusts stop. His hands still on your hips, you worry you’ve made some sort of mistake. Suddenly, you feel his strong arms flip you onto your back. A hand reaches gently, but quickly for your throat. 

“What did you say, pretty girl? I didn’t hear it.” Lawn tightens his grip on your throat while he teases his cock at your entrance. You needed to feel him inside you again so badly, you buck your hips towards his throbbing member. 

“Want you… want you to fuck a baby into me, Law…” You choke out. “Get me…” You thrust your hips up again in need. “Pregnant… Please?”

Law groaned as he watched your pathetic, needy body, trying to push his cock into your hole yourself. 

“Do you mean that, y/n? Want me to cum in you and fill you up until you’re good and stuffed? Want me to make you big and pregnant?” He teases you by swiping his cock against your swollen clit. 

“Want it so bad!” You crane your neck up to catch his lips in a kiss, but he was too far, you were a desperate little bitch for him. 

“Oh sweets… I’m going to make sure you won’t leave his bed without my baby in you…” His eyes darkened and he thrust his cock deep inside you without warning. 

“AAAHH! Law!” You shriek out, your body coming alive again and working its way to another orgasm. 

“Gonna- fuck! Gonna fuck you so full baby…” Law brings his right hand to his lips and spits a fat gob onto his fingers before bringing them down to rub at your clit. The combination of his thick cock spearing you open and his deft touch on your most sensitive bit, you feel yourself being hurtled towards another end. 

“Law, I’m gonna- ah! Cum! Want you to cum inside! Please! Want your baby, PLEASE!” You scream out as your walls clamp and spasm all over Law’s shaft. You whine and squirm all over him as he doesn’t slow down his thrusts. 

“Good girl cumming like that baby, Daddy is so proud of you. You’re gonna take this whole load, right baby? You wanna make sure Daddy gets you good and knocked up, right?” He stutters his hips. 

“Yes!” You squeak out as you feel him pump his seed deep inside of you, kissing your cervix gently. 

Law groans and collapses on top of you. You both catch your breath and he rolls off your torso to lay at your side. You curl into his chest and nuzzle your nose into the sparse chest hair in between his tattoo. 

“Happy Anniversary, sweets.” Law chuckles as he strokes your hair. 

“Mm…. Happy Anniversary, Honey.” You kiss his chest. 

“You know… we can’t have a baby until you marry me first…” He frees one of his arms and grabs a ring box from his slacks pocket by the nightstand.

“You’re kidding…” In your post coital bliss, you could barely believe you were getting a ring. 

“No baby… I’m so serious…” Law kisses your lips as he slid the diamond onto your finger. “I wanted to ask you at dinner but that lady threw me off. Will you marry me, y/n?” 

You look down at the ring on your finger and use both hands to grab Law’s face and push it into yours. “yes, yes! Of course, yes! I’ll marry you, Law!”

Law kisses you and pushes you onto your back again. “So.. Now that we’re engaged… how should we celebrate?”

xx

[maybefae]

Week Ahead: 11/25 - 12/01/2024

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

|Pile 1

Tarot: The Sun, Queen of Cups, Two of Wands, Three of Swords, Five of Cups, Knight of Cups, Strength

Either you went through a recent disappointment, or you will (around the middle of the week?). This will have to do with something you put your heart into, whether it be a relationship, project, work, or some type of goal. You're probably the type to romanticise your life or it’s what you have been doing just to make it through, so this disappointment will feel like a setback. Some of you will feel the emotions and just keep trucking but others will probably feel it hard (which is a downside of unrealistically romanticising your life). But through it all, I see that there are so many paths to take from this point! Some of you could have guides that probably pushed you in a different direction because this wasn’t the direction you were supposed to go. You were wearing rose-coloured glasses and were a little too stubborn to take them off. This could be a situation where you had to let go of this thing for something better to come in and it could be something you were hoping for but doubted that you could ever receive it. So you have a pleasant surprise waiting for you in the future (the benefit of doubt)! It’s one of those situations that you will be grateful for in the future but it may feel a little rough in the moment.

Affirmation Cards!

How can I stay curious? - I am seeing something new.

How does it feel to know abundance is on its way? - I am ready to receive with open arms.

|Pile 2

Tarot: Justice, The Well, Seven of Cups, The Artist, Judgement, Queen of Swords, Knight of Cups, Queen of Cups

Hmm…This is similar to pile 1, but a little different. There is less disappointment and heartbreak, not even anger. It’s a very quiet emotion, almost numb, but it’s more like an “I knew it” feeling. There could be a situation where you were suspecting something happening in the background and you were waiting for it to be revealed to you. And once it was revealed, you didn’t hesitate to pick yourself up and go elsewhere. You’ve been on a successful journey by yourself, even if it had its ups and downs. This situation could’ve left you cold, like it stripped you of yourself and of your heart, so you’ve been slowly rebuilding yourself and thawing your heart. And it is paying off because there is something or someone coming in! I saw the Emperor in the deck while shuffling but I felt the urge to put it back in as if I could no longer stand the sight of it. The person coming in isn’t as domineering as the last, this could also refer to a situation or workplace. But this next thing or person coming in has a very light air around them and offers a cup filled with whatever you were neglected of in the past. It’s something you probably have been looking for. I see you being cautious but you are willing to open a new door to see what it can offer. (And the past person or situation will be dealt with. You don’t need to pay them any mind.)

Affirmation Cards!

Who am I underneath the masks that I wear? - I am uncovering the truth.

How can I let new ideas into my mind? - I am opening the door to possibility.

What do I need to support this climb? - I am on an upward trajectory.

|Pile 3

Tarot: Temperance (reversed), Seven of Pentacles, Eight of Cups, Five of Wands, Justice, Page of Cups, Knight of Swords, Two of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, Nine of Wands, The Magician, Four of Swords

I had to shuffle twice to get different cards for a more straight-to-the-point message but the Knight of Swords stayed and the message stayed the same. The first set of cards had the King of Wands and King of Pentacles, which are still relevant (depending on your situation). So you could be dealing with a fork-in-the-road situation where you need to decide what to choose. This decision could be picking between two love interests, not picking either, two job offers, whether you want to leave a job to pursue a passion…I mainly see those situations but apply it how you may. For most of you (for either situation), I see you going for the “king of pentacles”, the more stable option. The king of wands option seems like more of a risk and feels like more of a risk to me. But for others, I see you picking neither! I see you deciding to go your own way and find your own option instead of the ones being presented to you. This could be because the two options caused more of a headache than pleasure. The main message here is that you have the upper hand! You have complete control of this situation and you will decide what is best for you. Follow your heart.

Affirmation Cards:

How can I leap out of my comfort zone? - I am feeling the thrill of taking risks.

How can I lighten up and have more fun? - I am enjoying the ride.

Dividers: @inklore