#Internal broaches

[maheenbroaches16]

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[toastsnaffler]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[stolememory]

I don't think any mortal can survive doing it with Mora

[arihi]

Holding an ambient dread in me today. There’s always the scramble to try and figure out what’s causing it for me, especially because I’ve got no internal monologue and I often have to talk out loud and in depth into every little thing that’s happened just to figure out why my feelings are the way they are.

Admittedly I can think of a few things, but they’re not particularly important in the long run. My tendency is to figure out why as if it’ll solve it, or so I can intellectualize the feelings away, but emotions are so rarely cut-and-clean addressed like that. Having been so preoccupied with my past in the past, or dreading the future, it’s grounding to settle down and have moments of silence in the present. I’m on the couch typing this on my phone, the sunset is shining down on my face, whereas usually I’d hate it I’m just letting myself sit in it. Once I’ve figured out a few potential causes, it’s not that important to dive deeper and think myself into anxiety spirals. It’s okay to have an idea of it, and not rationalize away how you’re feeling. It’s okay to feel off, sometimes.

[luulapants]

don’t mind me, I’m just turning a supernatural fanfic into a 64k+ and counting treatise on the nature of being in the closet

[lakeglitter]

my mother loves to ask me a question on the phone, make an aside to her boyfriend, immediately change the subject before i get to answer the original question, then get offended that i never tell her anything about myself. like????

[anissapierce]

I know thst dark crisis is like frustrating for fans but idk i just cant help but find it soooooooo funny like just throwing spaghetti at the wall saying everything is canon like i think itd b funny if characters like jason todd or Hawkwoman went thru their own donna troi identity crisis... hell give everyone an identity crisis why the fuck not

[enarei]

In my experience, the only "tool" that therapists have against a suicidal individual that most normal people usually don't, if you can call it that, is that they can threaten to throw you in an institution where you'll be forcefully drugged and lose what little personal autonomy you had in your life. That could happen, the threat of being thrown in a place like that could dissuade someone from killing themselves in the short term, at the expense of further traumatizing the vast majority of people that pass through such places. But it only works once. Because once you've been through that experience you'll internalize that you should not broach topics such as suicidal ideation or psychosis in front of people ever again. Instead you should keep everything to yourself until you work up the courage to die without communicating anything to your friends or therapist.

Hint: no one knows how to deal with suicidal people perfectly well! It's awful. Friendship and in fact every human relationship is premised on the idea that even if we think we know someone pretty well, we don't fully understand what is going on other people's heads all the time, yet we do our best to not wound them. Friendship is built on that assumption, that whatever you do or say, it is done sympathetically. And yeah, it is terrifying. You don't know whether something that is meant in kindness might hurt someone. No one knows until they've spoken it. People just say "only therapists know how to deal with it" to excuse themselves of that fact, to pretend there's a class of prescient people that are incapable of making such mistakes, so that they don't have to take any risks when speaking to their friends. That just makes you a worse friend. It doesn't fucking help them.

[shy-writer-999]

Giving Zoro a hand when he’s injured (#2)

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: P0rn with plot! ~5.9k words. Continuation of PT 1. Mutual pining, angst, fluff, and smut. Injured Zoro gives (afab) reader a hand this time... Or a tongue (oral sex, f. receiving). I inserted an asterisk (*) where the smut starts, so feel free to skip the plot! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

Giving Zoro A Hand When He's Injured (Pt. II)

The day after you had “given Zoro a hand,” aka, a hand job, Chopper was feeling well enough to take over your nursing duties. If you were being honest with yourself, you were disappointed. You’d miss Zoro’s feigned crankiness, you’d miss seeing him blush, and you’d also miss being able to touch his chest and arms every time you’d change his ice packs (among other things…). Caring for him for those five days was eye-opening—Zoro seemed to actually have a soft side. Or at least, you thought you saw a glimpse of it.

Coupled with your disappointment at not having an excuse to be close to him, you were tickled when you remembered how vulnerable he was with you. Zoro had been so forthright and sweet with you during the whole endeavor, and to top it off, he had admitted how badly he needed you. The last time you saw him, he was practically begging you to fuck him. Remembering how he moaned your name made your heart skip a beat.

It’s safe to say that Zoro felt the same way. He cursed himself for how much he liked you, and because of that he was second guessing your interactions. As he sat in his room bored, and when he was given the green light to walk around deck a couple days later, his internal dialogue was running haywire. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his feelings, and whether or not you reciprocated them. It’s peculiar, how flustered and timid he was with these things. You’d think he’d be strong and confident in this area, given that he was THE Roronoa Zoro, but he was quite the opposite. Because he was preoccupied with strength, with training, and with being the best swordsman the world has never known, he neglected his softer side when it came to women and emotions in general. And he wasn’t the most experienced, obviously.

Even after you had cared for him so tenderly, even after you were so close with him, moaned his name, had your hands wrapped around his cock, and kissed him passionately—Zoro was oblivious to your (very obvious) feelings towards him. He knew three things. First, that he was painfully infatuated, borderline in love with you. Second, that he wanted you to touch him again. And third, that he had to do something about it.

The problem was that he didn’t have a clue what to do about it. And he was doubting himself. He hadn’t seen you for two whole days after Chopper took over for you, and on the third day Chopper gave him the green light to roam around deck and do some light lifting.

How would he go about initiating something with you? What would the moment be like when he first saw you after all that had transpired? Should he just grab you and pull you into a kiss? Tentatively broach the subject? Pretend it never happened? Zoro was at a loss.

The first time he saw you since you helped him “relieve” some stress, he froze. It was at the dinner table and he had gotten himself a plate of food and sat down, not paying attention to anything going on in the loud room or raucous antics. He was scarfing down his food when he felt something. To be more specific, he could feel someone staring at him.

He paused and did a comedically slow look up. You were across the table from him, looking at him, and he hadn’t noticed you. He almost choked on his food. When his eyes met yours, he immediately looked away, on instinct. It was like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“Hey, Zoro.” You casually addressed him, acting like you usually would have. To your eyes, he did seem to be acting a slightly different—he seemed pissed, honestly—but you figured that some awkwardness would be normal at first, given that the last time you saw him he came all over your hand. “How’s the shoulder and thigh holding up?”

He cleared his throat and looked back at you. His eyes were always intense and it made you squirm. It was hard to hold eye contact with him. He just looked so pissed off all the time and his gaze was, without fail, cold and deadpan.

Zoro, on the other hand, could feel blush starting to creep up his neck, threatening to take over his whole face, but he tried to fight it off as best he could. Just act normal, he told himself internally. Just act normal. Nothing weird happened. She said it didn’t have to be weird at all. But you’re acting weird. He started to argue with himself. Well, stop it, damnit!

“It’s uhh—it’s fine.” He shrugged, nonchalant. You had no way of knowing what was going on in his head. As much as you liked him, as much as you had hoped that what happened a few nights ago would have changed everything, your heart faltered. It felt like it didn’t change anything between you at all. Even though you gave him such a passionate kiss at the end, even though you said that you’d ‘have to try his cum next time’ (or something like that), even though he’d moaned your name… did Zoro really not care about it at all? Was it merely a one-time fluke, explained by how desperate he had been after days of not masturbating? His eyes seemed to suggest that this must have been the case. You thought that you would have seen something there, some small residual of the fire that had burned so brightly in him nights before but… his eyes were cold and uncaring. Your heart sank.

The rest of the crew were laughing about something and eating, so you thought the interaction between you and Zoro would go unnoticed. You would finish your food and go back to your room to be emo about it for a little while before emerging again. But, as always, Sanji had something to say.

“Hey IDIOT!” his voice cut the silence between you and Zoro. “Don’t you think you should be more grateful for having such a gorgeous babe as your nurse!? I ought to rip my shoulder next so I get to hang out with you for five whole days, beautiful~~” Sanji came over and kissed your hand, and you let out a laugh, embarrassed.

“Oh, stop it, Sanji!” You giggled. No matter how many times Sanji praised you, you didn’t know how to respond.

“My love~ can I make anything else for you?” Sanji’s signature tone was over the top and lovey-dovey. “I’ll make anything you want!”

“No, no, Sanji, I’m good. But thank you!” You waved him off with a smile and he blew you a kiss. By the time your short interaction was done, you turned back to Zoro and his seat was empty. He was washing his plate in the kitchen sink. He set it on the drying rack and walked back to his room. His abrupt exit stung. He really didn’t give a fuck at all, you told yourself, trying to fight back the pit growing at the bottom of your stomach. Now you definitely were going to be emo in your room. It was impossible not to read into that more. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

You felt rejected, like that sweetness you had seen from Zoro was a lie, like maybe he didn’t actually have interest in you, like you were getting your hopes up for nothing. After all, the only reason anything happened between you two was because he was in pain and couldn’t do it himself. You tried to reason the hurt away—you were just being a good friend, you told him it didn’t have to be weird or anything, you were the one who leaned up to kiss him, not the other way around. From this angle, it looked like Zoro was repulsed by you, evidenced by his own actions. He must have been disgusted by the whole thing—why else would he practically jump out of his seat as soon as possible?

Maybe him moaning your name was only a heat-of-the-moment thing, maybe the fact that you touched yourself in front of him made him disgusted, maybe you crossed a line. You were feeling all mixed up inside, sad, frustrated, emotionally unregulated, sick to your stomach. You liked him so, so much, and the painful realization that he didn’t think anything of it made you feel like absolute shit.

Well, it turns out that Zoro thought a lot about it. He was just emotionally repressed, or at least he was when it came to you. He didn’t know what to do with himself after he saw you at dinner, he felt like he needed get away from you as soon as possible, or else he was going to say something off-putting and weird or make himself look like a love-sick fool (and he definitely was one). He almost turned bright red when he realized you were in front of him; he almost lost his cool, hell, he almost choked!

Sanji speaking to you with such ease and such affection was the cherry on top. The shit cook could talk to you however he pleased, and it didn’t matter to anyone, but underneath the surface Zoro was seething with jealousy. He walked away from dinner so fucking annoyed at himself for not having anything else to say to you, so fucking annoyed at himself for not being nicer to you. His heart was screaming that he wanted to be the one who called you baby, sweetie, darling, and gorgeous. He wanted to be the one kissing your hand. But the shit cook got to do whatever he wanted, because Zoro couldn’t muster the strength or courage to get rejected. So, he shot himself in the foot, making you feel horrible and making himself feel horrible—two birds with one stone.

---

The next day Zoro was feeling a lot better. He could tell his shoulder was close to being fully healed, but it would be a couple more days until he could get back to working out, on account of his thigh. He felt better mentally, too. Sleep helped him process things; his emotions felt more worked out after a solid night of sleep. He was less annoyed with himself and had stopped spewing vitriol at himself. He was feeling clear-headed—if he saw you again, he would say thank you and not run away like last time. He was hyping himself up to do it, and his internal monologue along the lines of: Just say thank you, and move along, like a normal person. You don’t have to say ANYTHING about the handjob. Just say thank you, it’s simple! She can interpret that any way that she wants, and it isn’t objectively creepy. It’ll be fiiiiinnnneeee.

While Zoro felt better when he woke up, you felt worse when you woke up. Your eyes were red from crying. Something about that interaction with him broke your heart and got to you, so you couldn’t help it. When you had to walk past him in the hallway in the morning, you just pretended like he wasn’t there, acting like you were doing something on your phone. You wanted to disappear walking past him, cringing out of your skin. You usually would smile at him or say “Hi, Zoro!” but you kept it to yourself this morning, heart still stinging from the slight yesterday. He obviously wanted nothing to do with you.

Zoro made a mental note of you ignoring him and he almost didn’t follow through with his plans. If you weren’t saying hi or good morning to him, then something was definitely off between you two. This was a little moment that he looked forward to every day. Today had been the only day that you hadn’t greeted him in the morning since you joined the crew. It was out of character, and it worried him. But he told himself that he was going to thank you no matter what. No matter how shy or awkward he felt about it, he thought you deserved a thank you because you had been his nurse for five whole days, and more than that, you had helped him get off when he was so pathetic and desperate for it.

You rounded the corner of the hallway after passing Zoro. You thought you were in the clear, putting your phone in your pocket. Phew. That didn’t feel great, but it would have felt worse to say good morning to him and get ignored.

“Hey—Y/N?” Your heart stopped. It was Zoro. He must have speed walked down the hallway to catch up to you. You spun around to face him and he almost ran into you. He overestimated how fast you were going and when you turned around he was about three inches away from you, uncomfortably close. You were almost touching. A second passed before you both turned red and jumped a couple feet apart.

“Zoro, you scared me!” You faked annoyance hoping that it would distract from the vivid shade your face was quickly turning.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he replied, rubbing his neck in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing pink. “I-I just wanted to say thank you. For taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh! Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t so bad.” You offered him a smile, to which his heart twisted and butterflies fluttered. A feeling of relief crept over him at seeing you beaming at him like you always did—like he looked forward to every morning.

He had planned on saying thanks and hadn’t thought about what he would do after that. Now that his plan was executed, he was stumped—what would he do now? His heart told him that any time he spent around you was a treasure; but he didn’t have any idea on what to say, or how to rope you into spending more time with him. He didn’t know how to completely and gracefully express his gratitude without outright saying “Thanks for giving me a hand job!” And he was trying to avoid that.

He blurted out his next words. “Well, uh… Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around deck.” You smiled again and he turned the other way and shuffled off. He was dying inside. Cringing so hard that he wanted to slap himself. You’re a grade A FOOL, he reprimanded himself. What the fuck was that? ‘See you around deck’? Are you fucking twelve? That was so awkward, holy shit. I always see her around deck. Where the hell did that come from? He cringed again. He needed to disappear ASAP. He felt so awkward, like he fumbled the whole interaction. He was being hard on himself for no reason, because you thought nothing of it. You were simply tickled that he showed you some kindness, that he wasn’t as disgusted or creeped out by you as you thought earlier.

You did see him around deck later that day, much to your mutual delight. You gave him a wave and he smiled back at you. Usually, he would do some kind of head nod thingy, bringing his chin up quickly and back down, as a sort of acknowledgement. But this time he had given you a genuine smile. His lips curled into the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, and your heart skipped a beat again. It was crazy how much you liked him.

---

At dinner that night Zoro sat across from you, deliberately. He always tried to sit near you. It was the only time of day he could be that close to you, normally, and he would take any time he could get, but he rarely interacted with you at dinner. He’d spend more time bickering with Sanji, Luffy, and Usopp more than anyone, and he’d laugh a lot too. Especially if he had some sake, which was frequently.

When he sat down, you gave him another one of your smiles. “Hi Zoro,” you chirped. “How’s your shoulder? Is your thigh doing okay?” His shoulder was still covered with bandages, peeking out from under the t-shirt he was wearing, and he was still slightly limping from the huge gash on his thigh.

“Both are doing a lot better. Chopper said I can lift weights that are a bit heavier now.” His tone was gruff, and he was focused on his food, not looking at you.

“Nice!”

“How was your day?” He asked, looking up from his plate into your eyes. His eyes were as steely as ever but… they looked different. You couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

Asking as simple a question like that was not how Zoro historically interacted with you. In fact, you’re not sure he had asked something like that before. You two were friendly, you were crewmates, after all. But you didn’t talk or hang out much, one on one. Or at least, you hadn’t since you nursed him for five days (and helped him get off).

“It was good,” you answered him. “I didn’t do much, honestly. Just sort of lazed around.”

“Me too.” Zoro held eye contact with you for slightly longer than usual—his eyes lingered. He steadied himself mentally before he asked you his next question, cringing in advance, figuring you’d shrug him off. But he was dying to know the answer. He needed to talk to you.

“I’m going to have some sake on the deck after this, do you want to join?” His eyes were still locked on yours and butterflies stirred in your stomach. You realized what emotion lied behind his eyes—he seemed to be pleading. This was out of left field for Zoro.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You responded, blush taking over your cheeks. You were flabbergasted, caught unaware.

“Well, I’m done with dinner, so when you finish just find me on deck.” He nodded at you, offered a small smile, and got up. He went to wash his plate, grabbed a couple bottles of sake, and went outside.

---

When you went looking for him, Zoro was sitting on the upper deck with a bottle already cracked open. He was looking off into the ocean, and you took a second to take in his beauty. He looked perfect to you. His jaw was sharp and the line of his neck was familiar to you after changing his ice packs and bandages. His arms were toned, his figure manly and handsome. The setting sun was casting beautiful and golden rays on the whole scene, and he looked all the better for it. This was the man that you liked, loved, even.

You came and sat next to him, and he offered you a bottle. Zoro drank sake straight out of the bottle, so you did too. “The sunset is gorgeous,” you observed.

In his mind he answered back, you are gorgeous. But in reality, he responded with a “Mmmhmm.”

The tension and silence in the air between you felt suffocating.

“So, why’d you invite me to have sake with you? What’s up?” You asked, puzzled.

“No reason, really.” He responded, turning to look at you. He took a deep breath before he spoke again, forcing himself to say what was actually on his mind. Forcing himself to say what you deserved to hear. “I just like spending time with you.”

You turned a bright shade of red. “Oh, uh.. Seriously? That’s nice of you.” You smiled at him. He noticed your blush, perturbed, and barreled onwards with what he planned to say.

“Yeah. I think I’ll miss having you as my nurse. Not in a creepy way or anything,” he cautioned and waited a beat. His heart was crying out to him—tell her how you feel! “Your presence is peaceful and you’re kind. It was nice to spend time with you.”

The look in his eyes was vulnerable and open. You’d only seen it once before, right before he opened up to you, days earlier. You were taken aback, flustered, couldn’t believe your ears. Did Zoro say that it was nice to spend time with you?

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled back at him. You didn’t know where the conversation was going, but your heartbeat was through the roof. “I had a nice time. And I don’t think you’re creepy or anything. I think you’re really sweet. So, I guess I should be the one saying thank you.”

Now it was Zoro who turned crimson.

“Thanks for what?” He asked, puzzled.

“Thanks for letting me be close to you like that.” You answered softly and your eyes met his again. His gaze was tortured—he felt like he was dreaming. Your words hung in the air.

“Anytime.” He answered, almost breathless. Then, he took the jump. After saying his next words, there’d be no going back. But the moment was in front of him, and he had to seize it. “I may not show it, but I like you a lot. To be honest, I think about you a lot too.”

You were stunned. Had he just said that? Was the sweetness you saw in him coming to the forefront? It seemed like time stood still.

“Zoro, I think about you a lot too.” Your voice was gentle.

“How?” He asked. He had to know, he needed to hear it explicitly from you. If you liked him, he needed to know. He needed you to hit him over the head with it.

“How? Zoro, if you couldn’t tell already, you’ve been driving me crazy. You’re all I can think about.” You looked at him, mired in the agony of finally confessing your feelings for someone. “I am painfully infatuated with you. I can’t even look you in the eyes half the time. I was glad to be your nurse because I like you. I more than like you. I—” you stopped yourself. You’d save those words for another time.

Something came over Zoro in that moment. It’s like he was in an alternate reality, one in which you liked him, too. He reached his hand up to cup your cheek and pulled you into the most delicate kiss. His lips met yours with sparks. It’s like you melted into him. Neither of you had any regard for what was going on around you—Sanji could have started screaming bloody murder at you and you wouldn’t have moved.

It felt like the kiss lasted millennia. When you pulled away from each other, you could see the fire and passion in Zoro’s eyes. It was like you had unlocked a completely different side of him, a side that you knew was there all along. It was a part of him that was vulnerable, sweet, kind, passionate, sensitive, and loving. You knew he was like this under the surface, and that he loved all of his crewmates and would die for them. But this side… this romantic side felt different.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” He murmured. “Fuck.”

“Me too.” You felt like you were going to pass out from blushing.

“Can we do that again?” He asked. His eyes seemed ravenous. He was starving for your touch, craving your attention, desperate for your love. He wanted to kiss every inch of your body, tangle his fingers in your hair, feel your heartbeat next to his, your body warmth. But he told himself to not get carried away.

You whispered back a “yes,” and Zoro put one hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him. His other hand cupped your cheek again, and his kisses were timid and light. His touch made you feel electric. You needed more than this, and you had a sneaking suspicion that he felt the same.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, so your bodies were pressing. As your kisses became more intense, you bit his lip softly and let your tongue explore his. Zoro’s hand on your cheek crept downwards. His fingertips went underneath your shirt and came to rest on your waist—he wanted to feel how soft your skin was, at last becoming acquainted with it after so many months of yearning. In doing this, he had no ulterior motive. It was a privilege to touch you.

The deck was empty at the moment, to your advantage. Who knows what commotion would have run wild if the crew had seen you and Zoro with your hands all over each other and lips locked.

When you had made out for a few minutes, Zoro pulled away from you. He felt like he could be more upfront with you and confident now that you had mutually confessed your feelings.

“Y/N,” he let himself ask the question he had been pondering for days. “Did you really mean it when you said we could do it again?”

He was referring to the end of your last interaction—when you said there would be a ‘next time,’ as in, you’d be intimate with each other again.

“Of course,” you answered him. Your faces were only centimeters apart. His heart was aching for you.

“When?” His voice was hoarse and low.

Your bit your lip and responded, bolder. “Now?”

“Please.” His eyes were begging you, his brow furrowed slightly. You nodded and got up, thrilled. He followed you without a word. He had never foreseen that the night would come to this.

(*) When you reached your bedroom, Zoro locked the door behind and then practically threw you against the wall. His hands were everywhere, and his mouth was so desperate—he felt your waist, your hips, your ass, your neck, your cheeks, your hair. His kisses were needy, sloppy, went, and ravenous. One of your hands clasped his neck, the other began to roam his chest and abs. You could feel his raging erection pressing on you. You had both been fantasizing about this for months and now that the cards were on the table, you meant business.

Moments passed and your hands crept down his broad chest. You hesitated when you reached the hem of his shirt. As you placed your fingers underneath it, you touched his bare skin, palms passing over his happy trail, up to his abs and scars. You took in everything your senses gave you—how his skin felt, how he smelled, how his big hands felt on you, how forcefully he was kissing you.

“Zoro,” you spoke into his mouth and in between his kisses. “Zoro, I want you.”

He hummed into your lips and his hands similarly crept under the hem of your shirt. His hands fingers across your stomach, making you shiver; he felt your stomach and your waist, rubbed circles on your skin with his thumbs, memorizing every inch.

"Are you sure?" He asked. He needed to know if you really meant it. If you really wanted it.

"Yes."

Hearing your answer, Zoro reached his fingers for your bra and unclasped it. He went back to the hem of your shirt and started pulling it up, peeling your shirt over your shoulders and helping you slide your bra off so your breasts were bare. When he started kissing you again, his hands hungrily started exploring—his fingers pinched your nipples and ran them between his index finger and thumbs, rubbing them until you let out a whine. He kneaded and squeezed. He couldn’t get enough.

Zoro unlocked his lips from yours and bent down to latch his lips over one of your nipples while his other hand played with your other nipple. His tongue swirled, making your bud harder than it already was. He sucked on it, until it started to feel good, and you were letting out soft sounds, trying to keep the noise down. You were wet already, cunt throbbing for him.

“Zoro, please,” your voice strained. “Need you.”

His kisses worked up your chest, up your neck, and to your lips. You could feel his hard bulge rut into you. You shimmied out of your pants before Zoro picked you up, lifting you by your waist. He carried you to your bed and put you down so you were lying flat.

Sliding off his pants one quick movement, Zoro was stripped to only his black boxer briefs now. Zoro’s cock was (as you were already aware) huge. When he got on top of you, you could feel it rubbing on your stomach through the fabric and on top of your underwear.

Zoro was putting all his weight on his knees, letting his other hands explore and trail around your body. This time, his kisses trailed from your lips, down your neck, to your stomach, and then came to rest on top of the fabric of your panties. He pushed your thighs apart and held them there. Bringing his face to your panties, Zoro left one long lick from bottom to top, up your folds, to your clit. He licked at your clit a few times and you whined—the rough fabric combined with his tongue made friction that felt so good. You could feel your wetness seep and saturate your panties with each lick and kiss placed through the fabric.

He tugged the fabric aside and ran his tongue between your folds, stopping right before he got to your clit. As soon as his tongue made contact, you let out a moan, albeit a soft one. The noise was music to Zoro’s ears, and it fueled him. He neglected your clit for a few more seconds, only focusing on lapping the wetness from your folds, teasing your slit, and breathing in your scent.

Zoro wanted you to feel as good as he had felt a few days before, when your hand was wrapped around his cock. This was his way of ‘repaying the favor.’ When he finally ran his tongue in circles around your clit, you moaned his name for the first time.

Hearing his name come out of your mouth was like honey to his ears. His heart was pounding and twisting, core burning, and the only thing he could think about was you. He needed you to feel good. He wanted your toes to curl in pleasure, wanted you to cum at least once, wanted you to repeat his name again and again like it was a symphony.

His tongue lingered on your sensitive spot for a few seconds before returning to lick the glistening slick that was accumulating down your cunt. The head he gave was so good it was indescribable.

Zoro pushed one of his thick fingers into you and pulled it out slowly, eliciting another moan. After doing that a few times, he added another finger, loosening you up and drawing more slick from your core. As his fingers started to curl and scissor inside of you, he reached his head forward and started leaving long kisses and warm licks on your clit.

The sensation was overwhelming—his big hands were prying your thighs apart still, his grip was so hard it would leave a bruise, his fingers were fucking you steadily, tongue still licking long stripes up your clit, hot breath sending ripples of euphoria through you. You could only handle so much before you started to squirm. Your fingers reached down into his hair, holding it tight, pulling his face closer to you. Zoro had to hold back a grin. Little did you know, that was his mission accomplished for the night, other than making you cum, that is.

“Zoro,” you moaned his name a second time, cueing him run his tongue in gentle circles around your clit again and slow the pace of his fingers. “I can’t take it anymore. I—I’m gonna cum”.

He pulled his fingers out of you. “Don’t cum yet, ok?” Sucking your juices off his fingers, he let go of your thighs, which fell limp and wide open.

You nodded and whined again. “Okay, I’ll try.”

When he got back to eating you out, he switched it up—this time, his tongue fucked you and his thumb ran circles over your clit. The added pressure on your clit from the rough skin of his thumb drove you crazy, and when his tongue alternated from licking your folds to fucking your slit, you couldn’t handle it. Your legs clamped around him, squeezing his head, causing his cock to throb more than he physically thought it was capable of.

This time, regardless of whether or not he told you to wait, you were going to cum.

“Fuck, Zoro,” you panted, whining, “I need it. Please.” He could tell you were close. He pressed on your clit just a little bit harder, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure came crashing down on you like a wave (which, coincidentally, is what Zoro felt seeping out of you and onto his tongue). Your thighs squeezed his head harder and you moaned his name loudly, again and again, as you convulsed. Your toes curled, fingers almost tearing out his hair.

This was unlike any orgasm you’d felt before. It was more visceral—he truly knew what he was doing, which was wild, considering that he wasn’t the most experienced. But he must have had a gift for it, because that was by far the best head you’ve gotten.

He licked your clit through your orgasm, causing your hips to jerk. The pleasure was enveloping you, everything in your mind went blank except for the feeling of your orgasm and the sensation of his tongue.

When you had finished, he licked the rest of your juices off your folds, savoring it. Then he crawled back over you, looking down and pulling you into a kiss.

The thought of you tasting yourself through his kisses turned him on, too. His cock was painfully hard at this point, precum blotting very noticeable a stain through his briefs. He was endlessly pleased with himself after teasing such an orgasm out of you. When he had given you a handful of kisses, he collapsed on the bed next to you and reached over to sweetly kiss your cheek. His hand entwined with yours, and you were both out of breath, happy and sweaty together.

Zoro wasn’t overly fussed with his own orgasm and was planning on waiting until you fell asleep later to go to the bathroom and relieve himself. Tonight was about you. As long as you came, Zoro was happy. So, he smiled happily next to you, thanking his luck that the person he loved seemed to like (if not love) him back.

He figured that would be all for the night… but he was wrong.

＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／ ⊂(￣(ｴ)￣)⊃ (⊙︿⊙ ✿)

Check out part one if you haven't already! Thank u so much for reading, I hope you liked it! Part 3? Perhaps...

also here's my masterlist if ur interested!

--Z

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

TW: Internalized Homophobia / Transcript / AN under the cut

AN: Here we are, just one more post before we conclude part 1 of this bittersweet story. As I've mentioned before, this story consists of three parts- Part One - Youth | Part Two - Uni | Part Three - Wife.

Transcript

Nancy Narrates: [As a treat for the few students who stayed behind, the nuns took us into to the city to shop on Christmas Eve]

[It was the first time Vanessa and I spent alone time together since I started dating Geoffrey]

[I’ve never been happier]

Nancy: [blushes] What?

Vanessa: [whispers] Do you feel like we’re being watched?

Nancy: Oh, Sister Agnes? [gulps] She’s right behind me, isn’t she?

Vanessa: [laughs] I’m serious! Let’s ditch the group.

Nancy: And risk getting a mark? Or worse, sent back home?

Vanessa: [shudders] Having to spend the rest of the break with my father? No thanks. Guess I’ll behave myself- for now anyway.

Vanessa: Sooo, what did you get your boyfriend for Christmas? A thong? One of those string thingies for his glasses?

Nancy: [snorts] I got him a broach.

Vanessa: You’re fucking with me, right?

Nancy: What? It was really nice, and very expensive.

Vanessa: Sure, if he’s your grandfather, Nancy!

Nancy: [sheepishly] I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I don’t know if I’m even doing this right. Shouldn't it...feel like something?

Vanessa: What do you mean?

Nancy: Holding hands and kissing. I thought it was suppose to feel like fireworks, like everything is burning and achy. I only felt it once...the first time, at that party.

Vanessa: Oh.. [looks away] Maybe he just needs practice...

Nancy: Maybe... Vanessa, I wa-

Vanessa: Hey! Let’s get some hot cocoa!

Nancy Narrates: [I wish she knew how much I missed when it was just me and her]

[No matter what, she will always be the sun to me]

Vanessa: So, are you going to tell me what’s in those bags?

Nancy: Maybe you should Guess?

Vanessa: Very funny, Blondie. I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts?

Nancy: [pouts] Does that mean you didn’t get me anything?

Vanessa: That’s because we said we weren’t when we were shopping! I could have gotten you something!

Nancy: [chuckles] It’s ok! You really didn’t have to get me anything. I just wanted to get you something I think you’ll like alot.

Nancy: Ta-da! I wanted to officially welcome you into the League of Blondes.

Vanessa: [cackling] No fucking way! This is the best Christmas gift ever, are you kidding!! [digs through bag] What are the scissors for?

Nancy: I was hoping you’d cut my hair. We can both have a new look.

Vanessa: You’re full of surprises, Landgraab. Let’s do it!

Vanessa: You’re being sooo quiet but your thoughts are sooo loud. What are you thinking about right now?

Nancy: Sorry. It’s nothing...

Vanessa: Tell me. Please.

Nancy: No, it’s fine.

Vanessa: Come onnn, please?

Nancy: What happened with Angela?

Vanessa: [huffs] Ah. I was wondering when you’d ask about that.

Nancy: Then why didn’t you just tell me about her?

Vanessa: There’s nothing to talk about. Pretty sure you heard the story.

Nancy: Sure, from everyone else but not from you. I want to hear your side.

Vanessa: [sighs] My side. We were best friends. We did everything together. I loved her a lot. All eyes were on us... so, I guess that’s how everyone noticed how close we were. People were saying things about us, and I was scared my father would find out and think I was like that. So, I turned on her. I called her names. I shunned her. I ruined her life...

Vanessa: It got so bad that she left the school. I never heard from her again. [voice cracks] You have to understand... if my father thought I liked girls, he would kill me. I could never let anyone think I’m like that! I’d rather they all thought I slept around with all the boys in school than think that. I had to do it...

Nancy: Do you?

Vanessa: [sobs] W-what?

Nancy Narrates: [My heart was racing. It just slipped out. And then I said it again, and that time, it felt like I was asking myself]

Nancy: Do you like girls?

Vanessa: [whimpers] I...no!! I’m not...I’m not a lesbian! I swear, Nancy! Please, believe me.

Nancy Narrates: [All that time...I had thought I was the one terrified of what it meant to love her. She was terrified of loving me too]

[This is what kissing should feel like]

Vanessa: [softly] Will you stay in my room tonight?

Nancy: Yes.

Nancy Narrates: [I had so many questions I wanted to ask her. So many things about myself I wanted to share, but there was one thing I wanted more]

[agentmarvel]

i've been thinking about this for days, so here y'all go.

part i |♡| part ii

sugar daddy!könig x fat!reader

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

könig, whose bank account contains millions that he has neither the time nor desire to spend himself.

könig, who learns about the sugaring community from stiletto and roze, surprisingly, and educates himself, finding himself quite interested.

newly minted sugar daddy!könig, who joins a website, hoping to meet a sweet, plump little thing to keep him company in his off time, accompany him to events he really doesn't want to be at, and is willing to be patient with him and stay in touch, though spotty, through deployments in exchange for everything she could possibly want.

sugar daddy!könig, who matches with you after several less than ideal encounters, boring conversations, and dozens of left swipes over the course of a year. he finds himself immediately enamored with your photos; you’re stunning, exactly his type.

sugar daddy!könig, who has a hard time talking himself out of sending you a large sum immediately just for a moment of your undivided attention, but ultimately decides against it, lest you only be interested in those deposits off the bat.

sugar daddy!könig, who learns you're a full-time student with limited means of support, given you aren't exactly a local. he could be the support you need, he thinks.

sugar daddy!könig, who is so thoroughly pleased with how you conduct yourself through messages, neglecting the matter of his finances almost entirely while you try to connect with him personally. after nearly a month of exchanging messages, he makes his first offer - daily pictures for payments. nothing lewd, not yet, but he's interested in seeing more than the same six photos he looks at daily on your profile.

sugar daddy!könig, who sends €500 per photo per day. you catch on quick, doubling or tripling up on them after a week; one before you head to class, one before you go to bed. but after the third time he sends multiple payments, you send a message telling him it's not necessary.

>>> I like sending the pictures! Your reactions are always so kind, and it makes my day! 🥰

sugar daddy!könig, who turns bright red at that and insists that he keep up his end of the bargain, but gives extra attention to detail in his responses.

sugar daddy!könig, who grows anxious to meet you face-to-face; broaching the subject proves difficult when he struggles to find the right words. luckily for him, you're a bit bolder, inquiring about events he mentioned, hoping to find chemistry on an actual date of sorts.

sugar daddy!könig, who is all too quick to agree to meet up with you. he warns you that he's painfully awkward, apologizes in advance on a loop, and warns you of his behemoth stature - a factor of intimidation for many, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

sugar daddy!könig, who adores your acceptance of his self-perceived flaws and shuts down the insecurities that you voice on your own behalf. your photos are not deceptive; he can see that you're a bigger girl (exactly what he wanted), and no amount of lighting, angle, or editing that could hide the most beautiful things about you.

sugar daddy!könig, who spends the next several days in a spiral over the date, stressing every miniscule detail until he chews a hole in his lip. his hands shake as he buttons his shirt, leg bouncing with nervous energy during the drive, fidgeting while he awaits your arrival...

sugar daddy!könig, who almost leaves when you're a mere five minutes late, berating himself internally for being blinded by optimism. he has to set his glass down in fear of breaking it in his tense grip.

sugar daddy!könig, who has to pick his jaw up from the floor when he catches sight of the hostess bringing you to the table. you're wearing a shy smile and a gorgeous dress that hugs your curves perfectly, and for the briefest moment, he swears he's in love.

[cumulo-stratus]

Could you do a fic of a reader with chronic pain x Spencer Reid? Please just fluff and maybe angst but obviously it's totally up to you. I've been having a few flare ups recently and it sucks ass.

Maybe Spencer like low key just makes them rest all day even though they want to help out with a case?

Love your writing btw! :)

French press coffee[s.r]

Spencer insist you take a break despite your insistence

WARNINGS- mentions of chronic illness symptoms,

Spencer Reid x gn!reader ][ fluff/hurt comfort ][ masterlist!!

a/n- The reader is implied to have chronic fatigue, or something similar but let me know if anything is inaccurate!

1.3k

You couldn't hold back a grimace when you finally reached a standing position after much effort. The pain radiated through the rest of your body, making it hard to function, not to mention the fog blanketing your brain. 

But before you could even think about how to deal with the flare up, you dreadedly remembered you had work today. Well you had work (almost) everyday.

This meant walking to the train station with spencer. Then taking the 45 minute train ride, with Spencer. And then you and Spencer could finally get to work, only to then fly to god knows where and profile serial killers.

You internally sighed. You were in for a long day. But you couldn't let Spencer know that- or he would make you stay home from work like the wonderful boyfriend he was.

So you instead crept quietly out the door, wincing when it cracked slightly. As soon as you slipped through the door your shoulders relaxed and you padded into the kitchen to start coffee.

Or at least you tried to, but you were slowed down by the intense ache radiating in waves. Usually the pain was bearable, of course with the help of your accommodations, at home and at work- but not today. When you finally made it to the kitchen counter, you grabbed the kettle and started boiling water for the necessary caffeine.

Just because Spencer will accept any coffee, doesn't mean he isn't the eensiest bit a coffee nerd. He especially had a sweet spot for French press coffee. 

Spencer felt the first sip was just that much more satisfying when you had to work a little bit for it. 

Despite his wet noodle type physicality, he still always pushed his whole weight down on the pump. He would feel it slowly sink under his gaze and he would smile slightly. 

You smiled at this thought as you sank down into one of the chairs sitting around the kitchen table. 

But the smile faded as soon as it had placed itself on your lips when your mind came back to the pain aching through your body and fog coating your mind.

The whistling of the kettle woke Spencer, his face scrunching up at the unpleasant noise. With the hope of finding the source and stopping it. When your sleepy boyfriend broached the kitchen, he found you slightly hunched over the kitchen table in a chair.

but when you heard Spencer come in you stayed hunched until Spencer called your name and you perked up, noticing the boiling pot. 

Spencer noticed your expression flicker when you stood up, and took note of that and the fact that you didn't notice the kettle boiling at first. Spencer could read you like a book, and right then- you were saying you were in pain. Well Spencer had to read between the lines, but he was just as good at that. 

“Good morning my love,” Spencer mumbled into your shoulder, as he had now wrapped his arms around your waist while you poured the steaming water into the large canister. 

you just so conveniently turned around to greet spencer just before you got to the step of pushing down on the pump, spencer took a note of this as well. 

“good morning” but this time the smile actually reached your eyes when you spoke, Spencer always brightening your mood. you even forgot the pain for a brief moment when he pressed a soft kiss on your lips, your eyes easily drooping closed. But when he pulled away to finish the coffee, not commenting on your casual avoidance of the physical exertion portion of the process, reality came back harshly. 

You took this opportunity to sit down, closing your eyes and sighing for a moment at being off your feet. Again, Spencer noted this to himself. 

A couple minutes later, he approached you quietly, two mugs in hand. One was black with at least a couple tablespoons of sugar, and the other with just an average amount of cream and sugar. 

Spencer pressed one into your eagerly awaiting hands, and the other onto the table while he put the coffee grounds away.

You could feel your boyfriend watching you carefully ever since he entered. Not only was he a profiler, but so were you. Although both of you knew he was watching, and the other knew, neither said anything. It was like an odd competition of who would bring it up first, you or him.

He won. “How's you feeling today?” Spencer spoke with a casual tone but the question held weight. the weight of the whole morning that had come before.

you smiled weakly as a response and shrugged, saying “ not too bad, i'll just bring my cane,” you tried to sound casual but Spencer could see right through you. 

He threw a knowing look, his eyes holding empathy. You couldn't meet his gaze. “Angel-” Spencer couldn't get the rest of the sentence out before you interrupted firmly. “No- I'm going to work. We have cases, people need us.” You had a determined look on your face, you were always stubborn. 

Spencer thought this to himself as his gaze softened, a sympathetic look creeping up.   “Honey, you need to take care of yourself, it's okay to not go to work for one day. You'll be better help with the case when your not in pain and your more clear headed-”

You found it hard to argue, stuttering a bit before huffing and saying “but the team needs me…” your argument was meek, as you had essentially already accepted defeat. 

Your disagreement made Spencer furrow his eyebrows, causing the familiar worry crease between the two form.

Though it was hard for Spencer to stay mad at you, especially when you looked so sweet like that. Sat at the kitchen table, a warm mug of coffee cupped between your hands, your hair a mess from sleep. 

there was still a substantial amount of coffee left in your mug. You had forgotten it for arguing with your boyfriend.

Spencer Instead pushed himself up from his chair with a heave, making his way to you a couple steps away. 

He reached out a hand. A compromise. You took it silently in surrender to Spencer's insistence. Although you didn't say anything Spencer could tell you were slightly embarrassed at needing to take a break. 

He offered a small squeeze of your hand as reassurance, hoping to provide some comfort. 

Spencer used his hold on your hand to lead you to your shared bedroom. He left a chaste kiss on your lips and left you to get ready. 

He instead used the time to call your boss and explain the situation. You could vaguely hear Spencer speaking to someone on the phone as you pulled out some of your (Spencer's) most well worn lounge wear. 

“Hey Hotch, ya, ya- oh really- are you sure?” You could only hear Spencer's side of the conversation as you entered the living room with your cane in hand. 

Spencer threw you a smile as you walked up to him, taking his cheek in your palm and placing a soft kiss. 

Once Spencer hung up the phone, he explained that Hotch had told him that it was mostly a paperwork day. This meant Spencer could stay home with you all day(as the workaholic he was he always brought his paperwork home anyways).

Despite having woken up not more than an hour ago, you were ready to sink into the couch, resting your cane against the side.

You weren't really listening to what Spencer was saying very well as the fog was growing thick in your mind. 

Spencer almost immediately noticed, and sat down next to you on the couch, pulling you into his side.

You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling into his chest. Spencer placed one arm around your shoulder and used the other to work on some reports. 

You spent most of the day in his arms, sleeping, or talking with your boyfriend. You tried doing some mission reports but your brain felt like sludge and your muscles ached. 

But it wasn't as bad, because you had Spencer there with you.

The End

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[cozycottagetarot]

PAC: How Can You Break The Cycle

Messages From Elle: We did it guys!😮‍💨

Notes:

This PAC Covers:

What is the cycle?

What keeps it going?

What will it take to break it?

What could that look like for you? (Patreon Extended)

‼️ THIS READING IS MEANT FOR SELF-REFLECTION AND ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY -- While this reading does broach topics relating to mental health & mindset, contain a bit of advice and reflective questions, IT'S IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM MEANT TO REPLACE PROFESSIONAL ADVICE OF ANY KIND. Please use your discretion, think carefully before you act and only take what resonates be it a little, some or none at all. ‼️

Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂

PILE 1 (Brick Wall)

Current Energy

Cards: 10 of cups, The Empress, The Chariot

I feel as though you’re currently in this energy where things couldn’t be better…. But then why are you here? I know that's my job to figure out but still. I feel like you’ve been making strides to create the life that you want. You’re charging forward, becoming more disciplined and things are starting to feel warm.

The cycle that needs to be broken:

Cards: The Wheel of Fortune, Nine of Wands, Page of Pentacles, Four of Wands

The cycle that needs to be broken is one of constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’re tired of fighting or always fending off the downward turn of the wheel of fortune and while you may try to keep your faith that things can get better and stay better, you're always expecting things to get bad again. You could be worried the new beginning won't start, the relationships won't come, or the financial abundance won't find you. I think this fear or vigilance has such a tight hold on you, that you end up not taking action. You may need to readjust your game plan. You don't allow yourself to relax. You don't allow yourself to celebrate your wins… you're always in this state of hyper vigilance.

What keeps the cycle going?

Cards: The Sun, The High Priestess, Two of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles

I don’t think you really allow yourself to be happy. That may be the current energy I was picking up on as well. When things are going great you don’t really let them go great. I also think you’re neglecting the things that are really important to you inside… maybe so much that you don’t even know what those things are anymore. Not knowing how to navigate this internal world of yours keeps fueling this cycle of 'oh, what bad thing will happen next?' You may also have a hard time making decisions or generally deciding what you want, floating back and forth between options. This back-and-forth stops you from actually putting in the work it takes to succeed and enjoy the FULL results, therefore keeping the cycle going. Another thing I picked up on is maybe the wheel keeps turning back and forth as well because from going back and forth all the time, you’re never really getting to move past the lessons you may need to learn in order for you to reach your desired outcome or abundance.

What will it take to break this cycle:

Cards: Seven of Cups, Five of Cups, Two of Cups, Ace of Pentacles

If you want to break this cycle, you have to make a decision on what exactly it is you want. It might mean leaving behind something, but you have to remember that so much more also awaits you in the process. Stop dwelling on what has gone 'wrong' before, especially if it’s past events that influence your lack of decision. It's okay to have that vigilance and use the past to better navigate the future-- HOWEVER, it's also important to get honest with yourself about whether it's a valid concern or a fear talking. It's time to change your mindset to focus on what can go right. I think also there will be someone available to help you once you make a decision about what you want to pursue. The alternate I'm getting is that you have to allow yourself to lean on others if you want to break the cycle. This could be through personal and professional relationships. But you have to actually decide yes, this is what you want. It doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to change as you grow, but first, you have to plant the seed. Once your seedling sprouts you can cultivate your plant however you’d like. There’s a lot out there available to you but making the decision to move towards it is where it begins.

Want to know what those steps might look like for you? Consider checking out my Patreon for the extended version as well as early access to my next pac!

Regardless, if you'd like a free mini-reading to clarify any part of this PAC, feel free to send me an ask with your initials and pile!

PILE 2 (Statue)

Current Energy:

Cards: King of Wands, The Star, The Tower rev, Queen of Wands

I see you showing up as being in a hopeful energy and that good fortune of some kind is coming your way. A good balance of masculine and feminine energy. There’s a sense of resisting something internally, however. A transition of some kind that you're wanting to make. It seems like it could be good for you and a lot of different areas in your life would improve, but what you know or are accustomed to might clash with what you want. However, you have what it takes to succeed. If you were drawn to pile 1, after reading this pile consider checking it out as well.

The cycle that needs to end:

Cards: Eight of Swords, The Devil, Ten of Swords, Knight of Swords

I feel like you’ve got a gloomy inner world. Very melancholy. You’re turning a blind eye to the things that are holding you back and draining your energy. It feels like you almost escape it but it gets you every time. You might not take the best care of yourself mentally or physically. With all the swords it could be a mental thing too and it’s important that you get (professional) help and take those steps (of taking better care of yourself). The cycle that needs to break is you getting stuck in this energy.

What keeps the cycle going:

Cards: Four of Swords, Eight of Cups rev, Ace of Wands rev, Ace of Cups

You don’t rest. You won’t walk away from the things draining your energy. You won’t open up your heart and you won’t do anything with your creative sparks... more or less.

It’s so important that you take a moment to take a good pause and regroup. You could find yourself turning to poor coping mechanisms and that's not good. You can't try to leave a bad situation either if you don’t know what made it bad. You also have to sometimes stick things out. If you tried breaking a habit and it didn't work, it doesn’t mean you’re doomed to always have that habit. That’s a bad way of looking at things, and while it’s understandable to feel that way, you still need to work on it. You’re allowed to connect with your emotions and create as well... There's a need to review your plans/goals as well. You can be successful, but may lack the resources to easily be so... that’s also understandable but you can still work with what you do have. You may also lack confidence in you abilities to achieve your goals. You can manifest so many things you want but you have to believe in yourself and open your emotions to be able to connect with the feeling of what you want. It’s easy to say I want XYZ, but if you don’t figure out what that’s going to feel like, then how will you know when you’ve got it? It’s easy to get caught up in material things but the last thing you want is to wake up one day to a life that looks exactly like you wanted it to, only to realize it doesn’t FEEL the way you wanted it to.

What will it take to break the cycle:

Cards: Judgement, The Hierophant, Knight of Wands, Page of Cups

It’s time for you to get it together. Get serious about moving on to the next phase. I feel like it’s all going to work out based on the cards but you really do have to stop holding yourself back. Find a support group. Consider finding creative/artistic ways to express yourself. Step into a leadership role because there’s a good chance you can lend the wisdom you’ve acquired to others… This could be through a social media platform, sharing your writing, attending a local community event, etc. Work on making sure how you’re living aligns with your beliefs and vice versa. Allow yourself to be vulnerable. Give yourself your all. I also feel like this is one of those situations where you have to remind yourself that sometimes motivation follows action.

Want to know what those steps might look like for you? Consider checking out my Patreon for the extended version as well as early access to my next PAC!

Regardless, if you'd like a free mini-reading to clarify any part of this PAC, feel free to send me an ask with your initials and pile!

PILE 3 (Broken TV)

Current energy:

Cards: Wheel of fortune, Queen of swords, Queen of pentacles, Two of wands

Your current energy is that you've shifted to a 'really good' energy or you're about to shift to a 'really good' energy. The Magician isn't here but that's kind of the energy I'm picking up on here too. Either being very faithful right now that everything is going to work out for you or that's the energy/mindset that you need to tap into. There are options available to you... You need a plan of some kind. You feel unable to move... unequipped even. Thinking about (or needing to) your long-term future. With the two queens, I think you're leaning into one of the two embodiments of the queen, maybe even both. You might have a hard time seeing yourself as either.

The cycle that needs to be broken:

Cards: The Hanged Man, The Tower, The World, Judgement

The other piles were definitely what I would consider a cycle on a loop that needed breaking but yours feels less like a cycle and more like you're just... stuck. You're ready to or have 'level/ed up', but it's as though you're stuck in limbo. This could be because you've gone through a 'tower moment' recently (say within the last year give or take) that's left you stuck in limbo. Or it could be a fear of having a 'tower moment' that is leaving stuck in limbo. Regardless this cycle is one of you needing to bring something to completion.

What keeps the cycle going:

Cards: Knight of Wands, The Emperor, The Sun, Eight of Pentacles, The Fool

You might be rather impatient. When you do things you may expect to see results immediately...that sense of 'oh, I did this tasks once, why don't I feel better 👀'. It could also be that you might not plan out your goals thoroughly or you may not be very clear on what it is that you want to do/achieve. I feel like since you don't take that moment to strategize and figure out what actually needs to be done, this cycle keeps going. You may just charge forth into whatever you think will bring you happiness. However, this means you can't put in the work required which can bring you back to a place of fear and doubt. This can create anxiety and likely catastrophizing which brings us back to that fear of a 'tower moment'. It could also simply be a case of being too laid back? On the flip side, while it's always good to have faith that things will work out, it's important to remember that a lot of times, you still have to play a role in that.

What will it take to break the cycle: Cards: The Star, Justice, Three of Pentacles, Knight of Cups

Have hope, yes. Dream and believe that good things are meant for you and those good things will find you. BUT, balance that with meaningful/conscious action. You must consider the long term. What is the end goal going to look/feel like? What is the journey of getting there going to take? Some of you already have the knowledge you need while others may still need to acquire it. Regardless, learning and implementation will help break the cycle. You have what it takes, but you have to stay the course. It's also important that you use action rather than simply ideas to motivate you. Fall in love with the act of doing.

I also feel like you should make a love list. I initially thought of that while going my first glance at the cards.

Also, do me a favour and take a nap, please! ✋

Want to know what those steps might look like for you? Consider checking out my Patreon for the extended version as well as early access to my next PAC!

Regardless, if you'd like a free mini-reading to clarify any part of this PAC, feel free to send me an ask with your initials and pile!

PILE 4 (Hammer)

Note: If you're someone who reads what cards were pulled, I mistyped the Seven suit for Current Energy and The Cycle so now that I'm editing, I realised I have no idea which suit the card belonged to hence the (?). Okay, that's all!

Current energy:

Cards: Seven of Swords(?), Queen of Pentacles, Three of Wands

It's time for you to broaden your horizons, however, you currently have to tread carefully. You could currently be job searching or looking for scholarships etc. There's a lot of opportunities available to you or becoming available to you. But you need to be diligent and read the fine print and get the details to make sure you won't be compromised in the process. It's important though that you be able to maintain a balance between your home/personal and academic/career life. You're in an energy of needing to remember to put yourself first.

The cycle that needs to be broken:

Cards: Two of Swords, The Emperor, Page of Swords, Seven of Wands (?)

The cycle that needs to break is one of constantly being at odds with everyone. I feel like you’re constantly bending over backwards or breaking your neck to try and appease others-- and no matter what you do, it’s not enough. I think this might potentially resonate more with those who are academics. When faced with a decision between what will benefit you vs what will benefit someone else, you have a tendency to either not make a decision of choose the option that will benefit someone else instead. This could be because you either live under someone with authority over you (like a caretaker or family) or you're in a position where you feel like you have to take care of others (siblings/family, partner).

I feel as though for some of you it could also be a romantic relationship? I'm not familiar with 'channeling' through music, but find myself doing it a lot lately. The song 'Lifetime' by Livingston just resonated with part of this pile for some reason. When asking if it’s a romantic situation, I got the cards: Eight of Pentacles, The Devil, and Justice rev. I’m also getting 'the right person, but wrong time'.

I think if it's someone with whom you share romantic feelings for, it's a situation where the relationship likely feels imbalanced and like hard work, but you don't feel like you can step away. If that resonated then that could be it. It could also be any unfair relationship dynamic.

What keeps the cycle going:

Cards: The Hanged Man, Ace of Wands, Death, The Moon, Eight of Swords

I think you’re in a cage of your own making, but not because you can’t see. You can see, but what you’re seeing isn’t clear. Because of this, you tend to end up pressing pause on moving forward. There's a lot of creative energy around you... for some, it's that it's a creative field waiting to accept you. However, you're too afraid to actually go for it and give it your all so I think you keep 'pulling the wool' over your own eyes. I think if there are people around you in opposition to you moving forward, you might see it as a convenient excuse to not move forward and transform into the next stage of your life. It's almost like the cycle doesn't need to be a cycle. You know when you're listening to a song and you keep restarting it 'cause you keep getting interrupted? And sometimes it's just you being extra because it wasn't even your favourite part you're just kind of nitpicking? Yeah, same vibe I'm getting here.

If the relationship resonates: I think you may need to let go of (or loosen your hold on) because they could be holding you back to the point they're dragging you down. Things are shifting for you, especially internally. You could be trying to hold it back though, but in doing so you could burn up and out. You’re seeing what really is and maybe you don’t want to. That’s the part that keeps this cycle going. I see images of a phoenix rising too.

What will it take to break the cycle:

Cards: Queen of Wands, The Chariot rev, Judgement, Three of Pentacles, The World, The Lovers

It’s time to use the things you’ve learned. Let go and let the cycle close. Trust that you’ll find love again or that you’ll find inner harmony. Trust that it will all work out in your favour. Take steps, even if it's baby steps to doing whatever it is you want to do. I feel like I said this already in a different pile, but even if you can't make a complete switch yet, start engaging in the things you want to do or eventually pivot too in small steps. You can always research or engage with it as a hobby for the time being. Also finding balance between who you are and how you show up to the world. Remember you have a lot to offer and it's going to do everyone a whole lot more good in the long run, the more authentically you can show up.

Want to know what those steps might look like for you? Consider checking out my Patreon for the extended version as well as early access to my next PAC!

Regardless, if you'd like a free mini-reading to clarify any part of this PAC, feel free to send me an ask with your initials and pile!

[amielot]

Maintenance

Bonus: Hob trying to broach the subject gently but internally he's screaming.

[slexenskee]

Only Shooting Stars (Break The Mold)

The AU where Gojo is actually All Might's California kid that literally no one asked for, including me 🤦‍♀️

Satoru’s best friend just told him she hates him. Actually, she told him she wanted to go hiking, which is basically the same thing. 

There is emphatically nothing he’d like less than being dragged through the parched, dry hills around the Dish on an otherwise perfectly normal Saturday morning free of classes, but Makoto is only in town for two days and he promised her he’d do whatever she liked barring arson and/or more tequila shots. 

“Can’t you just get Captain Underpants to go with you?” He throws out as a token protest, staggering into her rental jeep with the darkest shades he owns tossed over his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his hangover at bay.

He squints at her as she settles in the driver’s seat of her rented death contraption. And why isn’t she hungover, anyway? She had even more to drink than him last night. 

“You know his hero name is Captain Celebrity, and please don’t say that where anyone can hear you.” She rolls her eyes as she starts the car. “Until I get a more famous client he’s still my cash cow, and I’d really rather not get fired right now.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Satoru snorts, flopping into the passenger seat. “Isn’t he still cheating on the daughter with the stepmom or something?”

“Alleged,” Makoto hisses. “Allegedly cheating. And no, obviously. I wouldn’t still be his publicist if he was that much of an idiot.”

She tries to back out of her spot and almost immediately slides several inches down the heart-palpitation-inducing San Francisco incline he’d parked her on last night. She gives him a look of pure, sheer terror over her steering wheel. 

Satoru quickly undoes his seatbelt. “Yeah, okay. Put the parking brake on and switch with me— I’ll drive.” 

He has them up and off the worst of Hyde St.’s incline with the undisturbed impassivity of a kid who’s spent his entire driving career wedging himself into tenuous and visibly improbable parking spots all across the bay area. Makoto gives a sigh of relief once they clear the worst of the soaring hills, and actually doesn’t bring up the topic he knows she’s itching to broach until he’s pulling onto the 101. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have to bother with Captain Celebrity if someone would just finally agree to be a hero.” Makoto needles him, for the umpteenth time. 

He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Not happening.” He shoots her down flat. 

“You can’t stay in college forever!” She protests.

“What do you mean, forever?” He protests back, offended. “I’m not even twenty-two yet!” 

And she makes it sound like he’s wasting his life away going to college or something! As if getting into Stanford isn’t the most snobbish badge of supremacy you can wave around in this damn state! 

This is what he gets for saving her all those years ago, he laments. A best friend who nags him over all his life choices. He should have let her just fall from that damned New York skyscraper. Or more realistically, just waited it out and let an actual hero swoop in and save her. It’s not as if there hadn’t been plenty around at the time. 

She’d been a twenty-one year-old intern at a prestigious marketing agency caught at the wrong end of a villain takeover, and as far as his mother was concerned he’d been a seventeen year-old ostensibly touring the city for colleges, but in reality had been touring music dive bars more than campuses. They’d immediately bonded over the fact he’d saved her life, but also the indie band shirt he’d been wearing as he’d done it. 

Growing up in LA, his only two real options were surfing or surf rock, and he’d chosen to spend more time on the route that wouldn’t lead him to immediate skin cancer. His mom had eventually moved them to San Francisco, but he’d never quite grown out of his SoCal roots. He’d loved music in his last life, and in this life, he’d decided to chill the fuck out and ignore society and all it’s problems, and music seemed as good a way as any to do it. And he was pretty damn good at it, if he did say so himself. His expansive catalog of songs from his last life and eidetic memory made most people call him a genius, even if he rejected the label. So he was a passable— if not prodigal— guitarist, and Makoto had just learned to play the bass herself, so it was really no surprise they’d not only immediately bonded, but immediately decided to make a band together. 

Makoto jumping ship and splitting her time between the US and Japan had thrown a bit of a wrench in their rockstar dreams, but they were making it work somehow. And considering he can teleport around the world at will, it’s really not that much of a hindrance. 

That does beg the question though, of why Makoto would rather him be a hero than a musician. But he imagines he actually already knows the answer to that. 

“How about you stop cleaning up after stupid celebrities, and become a celebrity yourself.” He argues, with a raised brow. 

Makoto scoffs. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to break into the music industry?” 

With the confidence of several dozen platinum hits spanning several dozen genres sitting pretty in his head, Satoru retorts; “I don’t think that will be a problem for us.” 

She laughs him off at first, but then seems to give it genuine thought. “I guess you are pretty enough to have lead singer appeal,” she concedes, uncharitably. “But we haven’t even released an album yet; you have no idea how well it will be received on the charts. Playing little dive bar shows isn’t going to get us anywhere.” 

Satoru just shrugs. “Then what’s stopping us? Let’s record an album.”

Makoto just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Come pop by Japan next weekend, and let’s do it.”

“Sure.” He agrees immediately, making her do a double take. He grins winsomely at her. “What? I’m free next weekend. Why not?” 

She just shakes her head in wonder. “Even seeing it multiple times, sometimes I really do still forget you can just… teleport across the world. And stop bullets with your eyeballs.”

“It’s telekinesis,” he corrects, but at this point it’s just rote. 

“No, I specifically remember you trying to explain it had something to do with your eyeballs, don’t try to change it up now.” Makoto pokes him in the shoulder— or tries to, but is stopped with his barrier. “And how the hell that’s supposed to even make sense, I have no idea. But you definitely said it.” 

Yeah, he probably deserves that for trying to explain his cursed techniques while he’d been several mystery drinks deep at a college frat party. Makoto probably still hasn't forgiven him for dragging her to that madhouse, but in his defense, she’d all but begged him to take her to an American college party in the first place.

“It’s… complicated.” He hedges off. “My eyes just help me understand how to use my powers; they’re not actually what creates my barrier.” 

Makoto squints at him suspiciously. “... What’s your mom’s quirk again?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, she can convert energy from the sun. Mine’s a mutation, obviously.”

“Could just be a strange combination.” Makoto muses. “What did you say your dad’s quirk was?”

“I, uh, have no idea.” Satoru coughs, keeping his eyes on the road in a vaguely panicked manner. 

“Shit, that’s right, I’m sorry.” Makoto jolts in her seat, apologetic. “You still haven’t heard anything? I thought your mom said… I mean, they’re not on bad terms, right?”

Frankly, Satoru almost wishes she would continue pestering him about becoming a hero over this particular topic. 

“They’re not on bad terms, no.” He hedges off, shifting in his seat. Why couldn’t his best friend have a normal quirk, like fire breathing or water bending? Or anything besides being a human lie detector when he has so much he needs to lie about? “But they don’t talk much. I’m not sure she even knows what his quirk is herself.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, your quirk is what it is.” Mercifully, Makoto lets the subject drop. “Even if it makes no damn sense.”

Satoru laughs that off. “Does any quirk ever really make sense, though?” 

Makoto just clicks her tongue, then launches into a spirited rant on the laws of quirk science. Satoru breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the conversation devolves into a nonsensical argument on what would be the most useless quirk in history. 

One of these days he’s going to have to cave and tell Makoto the truth, but he’d really rather not do it when he’s hungover and facing the prospect of a miserable hike for the next few hours. 

//

And to be fair, nothing he said to Makoto was a lie. 

His parents aren’t on bad terms. Or rather, they’re not on any terms at all, as he doesn’t think they’ve even spoken once in the twenty-two years he’s been alive in this world. But according to his mom, they hadn’t parted on bad terms. They’d been college sweethearts, and his father had always been honest about his intentions to return to Japan. His mother had been adamant about staying in America and pursuing her own career. They’d split up for practicalities sake, unaware he was already on the way, and his mom looks back on that time of her life fondly. 

His mom would go on to have him several months after his father had left the country, and raise him as a single-mother as she built a life for them. His father would go on to be the world’s strongest hero. 

His mother had only ever known Yagi Toshinori as All Might, unbeatable and unbreakable, with a quirk so strong it would have him going down in history as one of the strongest heroes of all time. As far as she— and the rest of the world knew— he had some kind of strengthening quirk. 

But Satoru had seen him before, on one of his trips back to Japan. It had been from a distance, as he’d taken down a villain to the delight of the cheering crowds around him, but it had been enough for Satoru’s Six Eyes to see his quirk wasn’t quite as straightforward as the strengthening ability listed on his hero profile. All Might’s core— where most humans had a swirling mass of plus alpha energy— was as empty as Satoru’s. Satoru was quirkless because his father, All Might, had been born quirkless. The quirk All Might had now must have been  given to him when he was older, growing around that empty space and spreading through his body almost like a parasite. Or a curse. Satoru honestly couldn’t tell.

Satoru honestly didn’t care. 

He has no opinion on All Might, or what choices he may or may not have made to wield the power he has. 

When he was much younger, and saw how much his mother struggled to raise him on her own without help, he would resent him a bit for leaving her on her own like this. But his adult mind could understand the logic in both his parents’ motivations. They both made their own choices, and did what they thought was right with only care and consideration for each other. 

And it’s not as if Satoru’s childhood was lacking in any capacity.  

Actually, his childhood was awesome. 

To be entirely honest, he doubts he would have wanted All Might around even if that was possible. He can’t imagine a better way to grow up than the way he did, rocking out in the garage with his mom on the weekends, surfing in the mornings (with adequate sunscreen), skating from school to the skatepark in the afternoons, and having the complete and utter autonomy only a latchkey kid could have. His mom did what she could to make sure he grew up comfortably and well-cared for, and that included putting in long hours at work that had him on his own for most of the week. It was the best. There were no rules against using quirks in America— someone finally got their act together on personal bodily autonomy and all that— so he’d use his ‘quirk’ to teleport himself all across the world in his spare time. As long as he was back by dinner time, his mom didn’t need to know if he decided to spend the afternoon wandering the streets of Seoul in search of the best hotteok. 

He tried to keep his excursions on the down low, and keep his grades up and his nose out of trouble. While he adored his freedom, he never wanted to worry his mom. She was honestly too good for this world— and for him too, if he was being honest. The least he could do is be as good of a son as possible.

Well, he can try to be as good of a son as possible. As it stands, the majority of his chaotic existence usually gets in the way of that. 

“Oh, Sacchan, you’re home already?” His mother peers out of her office, thick, horn-rimmed glasses making her purple eyes look comically large on her face as she pokes her head over the wall. “Where’s Makoto-chan?”

“Probably on the plane already, unless it got delayed.” He tosses his keys into the basket by the front door, toeing off his shoes. 

She frowns at him. “You drove her to SFO, right? Don’t tell me you let her go by herself!”

He rolls his eyes. “She had a rental car to drop off, ya know. But yeah, I drove her from the rental place to her terminal.” 

Not that she deserved the consideration, after dragging him on a hike of all damn things yesterday. They’d just stayed out the whole night drinking beforehand, what madwoman does that? 

She gets up out of her chair, stretching her arms over her head as her hapless bun spills silver-white hair over her shoulders. “She’s such a nice girl,” his mother enthuses, as she cracks her neck. “I wish you’d bring more of your friends around, Sacchan. Your poor mother worries.”

“I’m in college now, mom.” He rolls his eyes. “We don’t really bring our friends around to meet our parents.”

More to the point, he wouldn’t want to anyway. College boys are emphatically the worst, and his mom is a very pretty woman. That’s just asking for trouble. And beyond that, he doesn’t have anyone at school he’d feel close enough to introduce her to anyway. He has plenty of people in his orbit to pair up with in labs, hang around the quad with while he’s killing time between classes, or drag to various house parties, but those are superficial bonds at best. 

He’s a young, handsome boy who surfs and skateboards and is good at all sports and plays rock music and still ranks at the top of his class; suffice it to say, he’s never wanted for friends or popularity. But he’s also a full grown man living through a second life; he has very little in common with the people in his age group. It’s gotten better now that he’s a full-fledged adult again, but he still tends to find the petty struggles of his fellow undergrads to be a bit pedantic. 

“You never brought any around in highschool either.” His mother laments. “Sacchan, you’re not embarrassed over your mother, are you?”

“Not at all.” He protests, then adds, because he doesn’t want to worry her, “I just don’t want people knowing exactly where I live. They seem nice enough, but you never really know with people these days.”

He says it to assure her that he’s a perfectly well-adjusted and well-liked kid who has plenty of deep and genuine friendships (entirely untrue) but only serves to worry her even more. 

She frowns at him, eyes downcast. “Oh, Satoru,” she says, in a sad tone that automatically has him lurching forward to comfort her. “I know things with your father are… complicated, but I never wanted to make you feel like you had to hide yourself from the world. I want to keep you safe, but I want you to have fun too, you know?” 

“Yes, I know.” He rushes to reassure her. “And I do have fun— you know I do! You came to my show just last week!”

His mother gives him a watery smile. “Yes, and your bandmate Kenji nearly started a bar fight, and the crowds got so unruly that the fire department got called in.” 

“That guy deserved to be slapped around a bit.” He returns, unapologetic. “And the fire department was just there to make sure we stayed under capacity— we weren’t causing any trouble!”

“No trouble, he says, when the cops were still called by the end of the night.” She teases him. 

He rolls his eyes. He can’t control whether or not two drunks decide to get in a brawl over baby mama drama outside the venue, that was totally not his fault. And also probably not the best show to take his mom to, but it was one of the few local performances they’ve ever done, and she was always making noises about finally seeing his band play in person. Unsurprisingly having two bandmates that live across the ocean and one that hops between two countries means they rarely play shows on this side of the Pacific, and he still hasn’t found a way to admit to her that his teleportation radius is a lot larger than he’d originally told her as a five year-old manifesting his ‘quirk’. 

“Cops or not, it was still a good time.” He grins, adamantly. 

“It was indeed a good time.” She nods, grinning back. She leans up to pat his cheek. “You looked like you were really enjoying yourself up there, Satoru. I always knew you’d be a star.” 

“It was a weekday performance at a local bar, I would hardly call myself a star.” He protests, helplessly. 

Her eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “Maybe not yet.”

--

Yes the title is from All Star by Smashmouth 😂 this fic has the most millennial playlist I've ever made

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