#I don't know if I've been clear enough about this over the season but I LIKE kipperlilly as a character

[jq37]

FH Junior Year Post-Season Thoughts

With another season of Fantasy High in the books and my recaps all finished, I wanted to do an overview of my thoughts on the season as a whole. Even though I feel generally positive about my experience with the season, there are a few things I think maybe could have been done differently narratively or mechanically. This isn't to criticize the way the season went down or to backseat DM/Play. More my combined ten years of college for textual analysis and storytelling bleeding through, haha. 

I first want to start with the things I thought worked really well.

Fantasy High has "High" right in its title but, in past seasons (and especially Sophomore Year), not as much time as you'd think was spent actually at school and even if it was spent at school, there wasn't much time spent in class or engaging with the realities of being a student. This season really dug into the academic consequences of skipping your classes all the time and the realities of needing to do a ton of extra stuff to try for a scholarship and I think that was a refreshing thing to highlight for a change. Being more scared at flunking out than the dragon that's trying to eat you feels very emotionally resonant. Real "High School Is Killing Me" vibes for anyone who's a fan of NPMD. 

Even though Fantasy High is a show that has some deep emotional beats and strong character arcs, it's first and foremost a comedy show. From the jump, everyone was generating bit after bit that had me cracking up as usual. "Little girly dog collar" is one of the funniest combinations of words I can think of. I think it was Siobhan who said that this was the goofy season and, having seen it, I'd have to agree with her. It never failed to make me laugh and it was always a highlight of my week.  The cast just has great table chemistry that I love to watch no matter what they're doing. 

Watching some of these high level combat encounters is as close as I'll get to understanding people watching sports. Even though combat is generally my least fave part of D&D, I think the cast really killed it this season with how cleverly they played and Brennan came up with some really great combat encounters. Special shout outs to Baron's Game and The Last Stand for their unique mechanics.  

This is going to be one that's on the other list as well because my feelings are mixed, but I genuinely do like the downtime mechanic and how it forces hard choices. I think it's an interesting way to connect a mechanic to the story and cultivate stressful atmosphere for the season.

I have problems with the execution but I love the Rat Grinders in concept. I think as early as season 1 I was hoping that we'd meet a party that was like the Bizarro Bad Kids and the idea of a party that's farming XP instead of going on crazy adventures is a strong concept. Likewise, I think a character that's jealous because of your "cool" (read: tragic) backstory is also a fun trait for an unhinged antagonist in this kind of setting.

This is me absolutely showing my bias but I adored the Abernant Sisters content this season. I dunno if Siobhan specifically asked Brennan to not put her on a bus with the other beloved NPCs or what but I'm so glad she stuck around and we got the development we did. It was almost entirely ancillary to the plot but there was this clear pattern of Aelwyn getting softer and sweeter towards Adaine over the course of the season, from the guarded, "Enjoy the nemesis ward," to, full I love you's and, "I'd take them to get you." It was way more focus than I expected considering that Aelwyn completed the bulk of her arc last season and a lot of the time, a redemption arc basically ends after the big gesture (in this case, Aelwyn taking a magic blast for Adaine in Sophomore Year). So the fact that we got to see all of these sweet moments of them reestablishing their relationship outside of do or die moments was such a pleasant surprise. Again, I fully admit I am extremely biased, but this was my top wishlist item and the season overdelivered so there's a baseline happy I'm always gonna be with Junior Year. 

OK, so moving on to things I things I think could have been tweaked.

Even though I liked the downtime system and the pressures it created, it also squeezed out the chance for more casual PC to NPC interactions that would usually be more common because they were semi-locked behind the relationship track and there wasn't an obvious benefit to roll for Relationships (as opposed to something like Academics which was crucial for not flunking out). Making the mechanical benefit more clear would have helped that (even if it meant Brennan didn't get his reveal--which he ended up just telling them anyway so might as well do it early). The other thing is that the consequence of a rage token was so bad that of course they spent all season avoiding getting one. Things might have gone differently if the consequences had been a bit more obscured, like in Neverafter. And it could have been a nice parallel to the Rat Grinders to take this unknown resource that makes things easier for you but is also having this negative effect. Then it could be like dang we did the same thing they did unknowingly. 

I mentioned this in my recap but I'll talk about it again. It is a little confusing to me that we did the Ankarna subplot right after we did the very similar Cassandra subplot. It took up so much time this season which I don't think is an issue in and of itself, it's just that we literally just went through some extremely similar beats last season. Why double up on this same storyline when there's so much new ground to cover? Or if we're going to raise a god, why not make it a different kind of god? One theory I had early on was that the Rat Grinders were trying to raise their own god to one-up the Bad Kids but instead of raising a chill, misunderstood Cass type, they accidentally raised a god who was erased for a good reason and got in over their heads. 

It's fun for there to be connections between seasons but sometimes it's like, OK that's a *lot* of coincidences. Like the god who your rivals is trying to raise *happens* to be the wife of your cleric's god and also *happens* to be the god of the fiend trapped in your friend's mom's chest and that fiend *happens* to be the relative on your bard's dad's side which is *also* the reason she is randomly cursed? That's a LOT of red string connecting plot points. As unhinged as Kipperlilly is about coveting Riz's backstory if I saw that go down I'd be like you have *got* to be kidding me.  

The mystery elements didn't feel like they clicked as well as they did in other seasons. I think that's partially because Porter's plan was so convoluted (seriously, I made another post about how haphazard his plan was) and had all these moving parts and we didn't get clear answers for a lot of mechanical things like how the rage crystals actually work and when they were implanted and stuff. You had stuff like Devil's Honey which I think is super cool as a thing that exists in the world but ended up being an element that just led the players down the wrong path and had a relatively small payoff (that Porter was using it to lie to Ankarna). I think it's plausible that a forgotten god would be willing to listen to anyone saying the right things without introducing this element. (As opposed to, for instance, Ambrosia which has a very clear connection to what's going on and is a solid clue that someone is flirting with aspirations of godhood.) 

The Porter reveal came so late in the season that even though it was a fun/challenging fight, there wasn't a lot of emotional weight behind killing him. It was basically just dunking on a teacher Fig has always hated who was also mean to Gorgug so screw him. Which, valid of course. But the Bad Kids were never going to react as strongly to Porter as they were to the Rat Grinders so putting Porter in the prime villain spot isn't necessarily what I would have done if I wanted the fight to be more than just a brawl--especially since we've done "School admin with student minions" already in S1. I don't mind the full circle callback but it would have been nice to pick something else for the sake of variety. We haven't had a child mastermind yet and I think Kipperlilly could have been a great candidate for that. My friend suggested that it would have been fun if Kipperlilly was trying to become a god instead of just being Porter's underling and I agree. "I'm not anyone's chosen one so I'll choose myself," is still within her established jealousy and Type A tendencies. If we want to keep Porter involved since that was Brennan's gift to Emily, maybe have it be that instead of Kipperlilly working for him, he's working for her. Like Artemis Fowl vibes! And the Rat Grinders can be varying levels of on board--from true believe to redeemable. I don't think Brennan planned for the Bad Kids to ever redeem her so might as well go full megalomaniacal mastermind with her and make her The Villain if she's not gonna be nuanced anyway. If My Little Pony can do it and send a literal child to Tartarus for pony treason (or whatever Cozy Glow did), Fantasy High can too. 

Continuing from the above, if we have the Porter fight in place of the Grix fight (a la Daybreak) and don't use Ankarna, that gives way more time for the Bad Kids to investigate the Rat Grinders throughout the season and it would mean that they would have their personalities developed a lot more. With the limited downtime, they Bad Kids didn't have a lot of time to spend on these kids who were just hating on them for no good reason (valid). But if you cleared their plate of the god hunt stuff, they'd have more time for this. And if they weren't all rage zombies to varying degrees, it would be easier to see them as characters. Besides Kipperlilly (and, funnily enough, Mary Ann) we don't really have a good read on what these kids are actually like. The little time we spent with them all season was kind of a wash if them breaking out of rage means their personalities got laundered too. Anyway, regardless of how their loyalties ended up shaking out, it would have been fun for them to be more than the minions that they were in canon. As funny as it is for them to just kinda be XP farming losers, they did have the potential to be more interesting in their own right if they weren't just Porter's minions. And again, we've done adults forcing or coercing children into being minions in Freshman and Sophomore Year already. Lemme see some self-created child maniacs! (Or, peer pressured child maniacs. That's cool too. The Lucy/Kipperlilly dynamic is way more interesting to me if it's like girl, I would take a bullet for you but I CANNOT walk this path with you any further in response to *I* will be a god and you can be *MY* champion.)

Anyway, those are my thoughts! Like I said, I have my points that I think could have been tightened, but overall an enjoyable season and I will be glued to my screen if they decide to close out with Senior Year! 

[soshinysochrome]

Pre-cut fruit/veggies as an accommodation

I'm going to go on a rant that's been building up for a long time but needs to be said.

I just watched a video from How To ADHD where they finally articulated what I've been trying to explain to people for a long time; that buying pre-cut fruit and veggies is an accommodation.

Because holy shit, do people get angry at people who buy things pre-cut, like it's some kind of moral failing deserving of the vitriol and abuse that it gets. And it always comes complete with people smugly declaring that they take the time to cut their fruit and veg themselves, like somehow that makes them better than people who don't.

Lets get something absolutely clear.

Yes, we know it would be cheaper to buy produce and cut it up ourselves. Yes, we know that the added packaging is more wasteful. And we know that other people are judging us for it.

But here's the thing, starting with the fact that "taking the easy way" is not a moral failing:

Pre-cut produce is an accommodation.

I have ADHD, depression and seasonal affective disorder (seasonal depression). One of these by themselves makes taking care of myself difficult enough, but very rarely am I battling just one of these conditions at a time. And when it comes to cooking or preparing food, my options are very often either to spend a bit more to buy pre-cut fruit or veg, or not eat fruit/veg at all. Because if I buy produce I have to prep myself, at least one of three things will happen: 1) I'm going to forget it exists until it starts to make the fridge stink and it has to be thrown away. 2) I'm going to see it every time I open the fridge, feel bad that I can't bring myself to prepare it, worsening my executive dysfunction and depression, and making it even less likely I ever will prepare it. 3) I'm going to buy it, put it in my fridge, remember that it's there and beat myself up until it expires for being unable to bring myself to prepare it.

When people rail against those who buy pre-cut, what those of us who rely on it hear is that you don't think we deserve to eat healthily because we can't do it ourselves. Which sounds about as absurd as telling someone with glasses that they don't deserve to wear those glasses because they can't see without them.

Rant over. Leave people who buy pre-cut alone.

[tpwk-formula1]

Kinktober Day 1 - Hickeys - LN4

It is day one of my first Kinktober! I have been wanting to do one for years on different accounts and in different fandoms but I have finally started earlier enough to actually pump out an imagine a day!

All posts will be made at 12 PST according to the day

Lando Norris X Reader

TW - Hickeys, use of word whore, jealous sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, creampie

WC - 1400+

Y/N POV

"We're leaving," Lando said while pulling me away from the conversation I was currently having with Max.

"Lando! Stop, I'm trying to have a conversation, stop being rude," I said while pulling my arm out of his grip and trying to make my way back to Max.

"You've had enough conversation with him to last a lifetime! I've watched you giggling with Verstappen for the past 10 minutes. He cannot be that fucking funny! We are leaving now," Lando said while taking ahold of my hand and pulling me towards the exit.

Once we got outside and the loud blare of the noisy club behind us I can finally talk to Lando without having to shout.

"Lando, what the actual fuck was that?" I questioned him while we were waiting for our car to arrive from Vallet.

"I have barely seen you tonight and when I finally located you, you're practically on top of Max!" Lando replies back clearly mad about the situation.

"Lando Norris... Are you fucking kidding me right now? You're jealous of Max!" I reply back trying to hold my laugh back. Lando and I had been together since his rookie season so watching him get jealous over someone I had never once shown an interest in was quite funny.

"I'm not jealous of him, Y/N. But you don't need to all over him in a public setting like that!" Lando replies back before grabbing the keys from the young man who just returned the Porsche to the front of the club.

Once we got into the car it was fairly silent other than the noise of our breathing.

"You're ridiculous" I break the silence making Lando scuff.

"You're the ridiculous one! I don't understand how you aren't seeing the problem! You're over there flirting with my closest rival on the grid while you're in a very public relationship! You know how the media can be," Lando replies back. I just roll my eyes at how ridiculous his behavior has gotten.

"Lando you know damn well I would never even LOOK at Max like that! I have never once been interested in him, and I NEVER will be! You have never once had a problem with me being friends with the grid, do not start acting like this now because you are in a championship battle with him," I tell him while we pull into the garage of his Monaco appartment.

When I get out of the car I slam the door and make my way to the elevator trying to avoid Lando as much as possible.

The ride up to Lando's apartment was silent and awkward, both of us reflecting on the actions of the night.

When we finally get into the apartment I make my way into the bathroom before stripping down and getting in the shower knowing I need to clear my head before Lando and I can have a mature conversation.

I'm not even halfway through my shower before I hear the bathroom door open making me turn around and find Lando coming in shirtless and starting to unbutton his pants. Once he is stripped down he climbs into the shower with me.

I roll my eyes at him before turning my back towards him.

This was Lando's final straw because the next thing I know I am pushed up against the shower wall with Lando's chest pushed against my back.

"Drop the fucking attitude! I wasn't the one whoring myself out," Lando seethes out into my ear. When I don't respond to him he starts kissing behind my ear and down my neck.

Once he finds my sweet spot it leaves me gasping in shock before I feel his teeth sink into my neck and start sucking.

"Lando," I moan out. Once Lando pulls away from me I turn my head slightly to watch him observe the mark that is inevitably starting to darken on the side of my neck.

Without words, Lando takes my hips into his hands before aggressively spinning me around so we are face-to-face.

When I look into Lando's eyes I can see the lust swimming through them.

I grip onto Lando's neck pulling him down for an aggressive make-out session. It's not long before Lando is pulling back and trailing kisses down my jaw and neck again.

The feeling of Lando's teeth sinking into my warm skin has my knees growing weaker. Once Lando makes it to my tits I feel myself give out to the pleasure and if Lando wasn't holding me up I definitely would have been on my knees from the pleasure.

"Fuck," I gasp out when Lando takes my nipple between his teeth and biting down softly.

When I glance down at Lando all I see is his wet curls and little purple marks trailing down from my neck to my tits. I can't remember the last time Lando had given me a hickey let alone a whole collection of them.

"Lan please," I whine out trying to push him lower.

I get no response from Lando but he does start making his way lower down my body. All I feel is Lando continuing his trail of hickeys down my stomach leading his way to my soaked pussy.

When he finally reaches the spot I wanted him most instead of diving right in like he normally does he starts leaving hickeys all over my thighs. He has one of my legs in his hand giving him the perfect space to continue to tease me.

With the death I have on his hair I try to pull him close to my dripping core but instead, he makes his way to my other thigh but not before leaving a long lick from my dripping hole to my throbbing clit. This has me gasping for air thinking I was finally going to get what I wanted but Lando had other plans.

"Please, Lan," I whine out not knowing how much more of this teasing I can handle.

"Patience," All Lando says before starting his trail of hickeys again.

It feels like forever before I can feel Lando slowing making his way back to my soaking pussy. When he finally gets to the spot I needed him the most I let out a loud shrink when I feel Lando's teeth sinking down softly on my throbbing clit, before releasing it with his teeth and starting to suck on it.

"Fuck Lando," I moan out knowing I won't be lasting long if he continues this assault on my overly sensitive clit.

"I'm close," I moan out. This had Lando pulling away making me whine out from the loss of contact.

Lando doesn't say anything before he flips me back around so my chest is pressed against the shower wall.

It doesn't take long before I can feel Lando teasing my entrance with his hard tip. When he finally pushed in I let out a loud moan not knowing how to handle the overwhelming pleasure of being so full.

Lando starts thrusting in and out at a quick and rough pace. It doesn't take me long before I can feel my orgasm building again.

"Fucking, cum," Lando aggressively moans out making me explode all over Lando's cock.

"Fuck," I moan out feeling the early signs of overstimulation start to take course.

"Lan, fuck, please," I moan out not really knowing what I want.

"You're going to cum again," Lando grunts out making up my mind for me. I can already feel my second orgasm start to build when Lando reached around and started rubbing my clit which threw me over the edge again. This orgasm was stronger than the first leaving me shaking all over Lando's cock.

"I'm gonna cum in you," Lando whispers in my ear before I felt him slow his pace down but continue with the strong thrusts. When he finally spills into my still throbbing pussy I can feel how much cum he is pumping deep into me.

"Fuck," Lando groans out before slowly slipping out and allowing some of the cum to drip out of my pussy.

When we finally came down from our strong orgasms we finish our shower together before getting out. Lando gets out first and wraps his towel around his waist before grabbing the second towel and wrapping it around my body before helping me out.

When I finally get a good look in the mirror I can see just how much damage Lando had done to my skin. Just from my neck to chest I can see at least 8 hickeys ranging from small light purple marks to bigger deeper purple marks.

When I make eye contact with Lando in the mirror I see the smug look he is giving me.

"Well now he knows you're mine," Lando says with a small shrug before walking out of the bathroom, leaving me shaking my head at his petty jealousy.

[fangbanger3000]

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

[PLEASE READ] edit to add: i realise that this post has been reblogged far and wide and that there is not a lot i can do about it now, but this is me trying anyway.

posting examples from the fic about my issues with its repetitive structure was careless of me, and i apologise to those of you who read it and became insecure about your own writing style. as someone who has worked with ai in academic settings, it's incredibly difficult for me to explain to you how the tone and structure of ai-generated fiction works and how, after reading enough of it, you can simply just tell. i do also realise that this is an incredibly weak argument, which is why i didn't include it when i originally wrote this post.

all that to say: there is an enormous difference between "beginner's writing" and ai writing. being repetitive as a new writer (or a seasoned one who just likes using repetition) is so normal. as is flowery/purple language. i've read hundreds of books and fics and the difference between these traits in ai-text and actual works is starkly clear. please don't feel anxious over the examples i've used in this post.

again, i apologise for any distress i have caused.

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

[easy-there-leftovers]

A Question Unasked

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: In which your ambitious, workaholic nature makes Spencer wonder if you've got a crush on Hotch. This slight hitch in his plan causes him to miss a few signs.

[A/N]: Can be seen as a filler from Spencer's perspective of certain scenarios from "Mixed Messages" and a prequel to "As Cool As I Think I Am", but can also just be a standalone

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, allusion to inappropriate workplace dynamics (it's not true, relax lol), slight description of canon-typical violence, mildly inaccurate timeframe | word count: 4k

Spencer looks up from his endless stacks of files on his desk to look at the girl on the other side of his desk. Only a single carpeted walkway really separating them.

He could easily just get up and walk right to her. Ask the burning question that's been on his mind since the Arizona case, but he can't.

Why is that?

He's been your friend for a while, and he's known you for a while longer.

With his eidetic memory, he remembers so clearly when you first started working together. He remembers your starched blazer and pressed blouse, a stark contrast to his swimming-in-sweaters look, and how that alone let anyone know that you were serious about uniform and protocol.

You were, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, and a fresh graduate just like him.

You were smart, beautiful, and started working at the BAU as early as he did.

And because you were new and young, one of the senior agents had been assigned to supervise your progress. So much like how he was mentored by Gideon, you had been mentored by the unit chief himself; Aaron Hotchner.

He'd like to think that he learned a lot from Gideon. He wasn't the type to hold his hand throughout a case, which he is thankful for, but he had been there to encourage him to think more outside the box. To let his mind be more flexible and creative. To see things from every conceivable angle. Leaving no stone unturned.

He supposed you learned a lot from Hotch as well. With your calm exterior, polite demeanor, and calculating mind that occasionally colored your less polite vocabulary-- He didn't know what Aaron must've been like in his junior years, but he supposed that having you as his colleague was essentially the same experience.

What he does know, however, is how close you are to your boss. Or is it your work?

Either way, you being glued to your work almost always meant that you were glued to him by proxy. You two being the first ones in and the last ones out showed that you spent three-percent more of your time with each other than the rest of the team, and two-percent more than with him.

Granted that had changed as of late, but still!

That didn't leave him a lot of time to ask you if---

"Dr. Reid, if you keep staring at me, I don't think you'll be able to finish your action reports on time." You had said without lifting your eyes from your folder.

Having been caught, he cleared his throat with a small 'sorry,' and directed his head back down to his still endless stack of files. The action earning a couple of chuckles from the bullpen where the rest of your colleagues had certainly seen, or at least heard, the exchange.

Not long after however, he saw Hotch from the corner of his eye lean over the railing outside his office. Calling for you both to meet him inside with his usual stern expression.

Spencer noticed how you got up, eyes still zeroed in on one of your files, and continued on your way up and into the unit chief's open door.

A clear sign that you had been invited there often enough that you didn't need to see where you were going.

You expected it.

He sighs and makes his way into the office as well. Dreading what the meeting could even be for, though he's confident he hasn't done anything wrong.

***

"As you might have noticed in our previous cases, I've paired you two to work on the more analytical aspects of it together. With these changes, we've been able to work twice as fast, and we’re thankful for the help."

Whatever Spencer had been expecting, it was not this. His raised eyebrows evidently agreed with him.

It wasn't everyday that Hotch complimented someone like this, much less in the proper environment. And if your respectful posture, but shining eyes in slight pride were anything to go off of, this was something new for you too.

As he was about to voice his thoughts, you had spoken up.

"Sir, Dr. Reid's knowledge in a wide array of subjects has certainly helped with our investigations. Though I'm afraid I haven't done much aside from ensuring it's accuracy and-"

"No! I mean--," He looked to see you already looking at him in slight confusion before continuing.

"She's been a huge help so far and has allowed me to exchange ideas with her to build a more accurate profile. Not to mention that her ability to mediate between departments has been beneficial to gaining access to pertinent information! So I think she's done plenty for the investigations as well." His voice dwindles as he realizes he's rambling on praises and he suddenly feels warm under the scrutiny of both his boss and his colleague.

He just didn't want anyone thinking you weren't doing anything by being humble. Especially since you're both so young.

Thankfully, it's Hotch who speaks up again after a beat.

"So what I'm hearing is that you're both satisfied with this arrangement?"

You both nod carefully and he smiles a small smile at that.

"Then we'll be carrying on with this pairing into the foreseeable future. Should there be any concerns about this arrangement, see to it that it goes through me. We can't afford to lose either of you." He says it with a finality that prompts both Spencer and you to leave with a nod, but the thought is instantly corrected when he speaks again.

"Oh and agent?" He looks only at you, but Spencer looks back as well out of instinct. "A private word, if you please."

Spencer sees you nod without a second thought and he takes it as his cue to hurriedly leave.

***

It hasn't been that long, Spencer argues with himself, since he left the unit chief's office. The blinds aren't drawn, he would know since he'd been looking at them periodically, so he also knows that nothing untoward is happening.

Yet something is bothering him about it.

From his position on his desk, he can see you and Hotch discussing something on his table very seriously, but he also sees how your eyes rarely leave the face of your superior. He can't quite see your expression due to the distance and the light, but he has this sinking feeling that it's a lot like the one from earlier.

He scoffs at the thought. If he wasn't thinking so rationally, he would've thought-

"Does she like Hotch?"

"Who likes Hotch?"

The new voice makes him whip his head back so fast to see Morgan with a confused face. Upon further examination, he sees him holding something that was definitely supposed to be flicked at him if he hadn't been caught so off guard.

He internally debates to voice his opinion, but he does anyway.

"Do you think that she likes Hotch?" He gestures with his eyes to their supervisor's office.

"You're asking me if I think 'little miss perfect' has a crush on a man that's hitched?" Derek echoes back with the use of your nickname. One that he coined as a playful jab at your no-frills behavior.

Spencer cringes when he hears it back though. He didn't ask this to get you in trouble, but it might come across that way now.

"Who has a crush on married man?" Elle joins in, and he only shrinks into his seat more.

"I'm not asking if she has a crush on him! I just want to know if she might like him and--what it is that she likes about him..."

The two exchange looks before looking back at him. Fully knowing that that's not the reason why he's asking, but they humor him anyway.

"Reid, what makes you think she likes him and not literally anyone else?"

"Well. there's her preference for prolonged eye-contact, a common indicator of interest for one. Her being in constant proximity to him, a sign that shows comfort in certain contexts, and then there's the amount of time they spend together."

The last one might be a bit of a reach, considering how you all work in the same area, but at this point he just wanted someone to tell him that he was either absolutely right, or crazy.

"Kid, that's crazy."

Duly noted.

"I'll say.” Elle chuckles out her response. “I haven't thought about it all, but those signs don't really mean anything. It just sounds like she has a habit of looking at whoever's talking to her." She notes, sharing her experience of being on the receiving end of your rather intense gaze.

His other friend adds onto that.

"And the whole closeness thing? You've seen her, she's like a computer with the way she works. She's a workaholic. And Hotch is another. It's just math, Reid."

Spencer furrows his eyes at the man's statement but before he can ask further, he sees you coming out of the office and staring at the small crowd that has now formed at his desk.

"Is something going on here?" You ask with tense brows. Eyes flickering to and fro.

He couldn't really think of something on the spot, but thankfully Derek had one at the ready. "Was just caught trying add my stack on to pretty boy's plate."

He sees you let out a small 'hm,' and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

He sighs in relief as he feels a firm pat on his back from Morgan.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking." He says before leaving to go to his own desk as well.

Spencer doesn't know what good that would do, especially now that he's worried one of his colleagues have caught wind of him liking you, but he at least takes note of it.

--------

He does not, in fact, take note of it until very later.

The team had been called to San Diego to deal with someone they had been calling, "The Tommy Killer." An unsub that had a preference for gluing his victims' eyes open.

As they were reviewing the scene in the jet, they had noticed a few stanzas of a literary work had been left behind at the scene.

"It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A Dialogue Betwixt Death and a Lady." Spencer had mentioned from where he stood.

"A 17th Century ballad?" Morgan had asked him incredulously from his seat, but it’s you who answers.

"One where a woman tries to bribe Death with all that she has in exchange for a little more time to live. Naturally, he doesn't allow it. Claiming that she was undeserving of an exception that even kings were denied of."

Spencer looks up from his own copy to see you still looking at your own from beside Hotch. With your brows furrowing in thought, he almost sees the actual gears in your brain turning.

"So what, are we looking at a literature professor of some kind?" Elle asks which immediately perks him right up.

"Well, actually anyone with access to the internet today. You should see what comes up when you type in the word, "Death" into a search engine." He laughed absentmindedly.

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date."

Morgan's words made him frown, but he brushes it off.

Hotch, as previously discussed, then called on for the both of you to look deeper into the messages. To see if there was anything new that could be inferred.

He nods at him, and looks up. Expecting you to still be looking at Hotch as well.

Instead, your eyes meet his, but you quickly look back onto your file.

Reid thinks it's just a coincidence.

***

"Creepy, huh?" JJ had asked you two as she approached where transcripts of the written messages were tacked onto a board.

Spencer had been focusing so hard that he was caught off gaurd by her sudden appearance. Fully expecting the area to just be for you and him so he told her what first came to mind.

"Actually, conversations between Death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance."

Though perhaps the delivery wasn't as as good as he thought it was as JJ only stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

He thought it was interesting, really, but he supposed his slight stutter and breathy laugh at the end must have distracted her from his point.

He turned to look at you for help, but you too had been focusing on the messages and wouldn't be available to do that. So he just agreed with JJ’s sentiment, which seemed to be enough for her to leave.

He sighed out in relief.

"The lady never answers. Have you noticed it yet, Dr. Reid?" You turn to him as you ask.

He immediately refocuses on to the case and tries his best to reply after his prior blunder. "Oh uh-- Right, the dialogue in the ballad seems to be fractured. Well, it's more of a monologue than a dialogue seeing that there is no exchange of information."

A small smile graces your lips at that, and you gesture with a nod to go report your findings.

"So it is. Let's get going."

He follows you to where Hotch and Elle were discussing the sexual aspect of the crime and sees you take your place next to your mentor. The same position you were in when he was blowing out his birthday candles, as he also inserts himself into the discussion.

"Sir, we believe what the unsub has written at the scenes are most of the first three verses of the same ballad." You deliver, prompting your mentor to raise his brow at that.

"Most of?"

"Yeah, it's only one side of the conversation." Spencer adds. "There's no betwixt." He takes pride in your shared effort, which makes itself known by the smile that adorns his face.

Unfortunately, his satisfaction, isn't met with a positive reaction either as he sees Elle desperately trying not to make eye-contact, and your supervisor staring at him very pointedly.

He's thankful though at the little chuckle that you quickly try to hide behind a cough and a cover of your mouth to appear more professional. Quickly looking down at the ground.

He's happy that at least someone thought his joke was well-placed.

He continues to explain your theory about how the Lady in the narrative never answers, and that's enough for both Hotch and Elle to at least think about it.

Their attention is quickly stolen away however at an incoming call about a failed attempt nearby the precinct.

Quickly excusing themselves to get onto the scene as soon as possible, you see them call Gideon on their way out. Watching them as they leave the department doors.

But Spencer keeps his eyes on you as the thought just dawns on him.

You were the first one on the team to laugh at his jokes.

***

The more cases he works for the BAU, the more he realizes how much of his work isn't theoretical anymore. He feels it in the weariness in his eyes, the weight on his chest, and the shake of his hands.

Or maybe the shake is from the cold.

After all, he had dressed for the warm, California air. So now that he was in the cool, air-conditioned jet, he was seriously regretting not packing a sweater, at the very least.

He makes his way to the back of the aircraft after another successful investigation, and that's where sees you.

You had opted to shed your typically structured blazer on the seat beside you, leaving you in a softer blouse, both in color and form, that made everyone around you know that you were officially off duty.

It's a nice look on you, he thinks. A slight departure from your usually stern and hardened exterior. He wouldn't mind seeing a more relaxed version of you every once in a while.

A version of you that looked more your age and not constantly under the pressure of doing well.

He momentarily wonders if that's part of your mentor's influence as well.

He freezes a bit, as if catching himself in some depraved daydream, and takes a few steps back to return to the more vacant areas of the craft.

Before he can get any further though, you see him and beckon for him to come over with a tired wave of your hand.

"How's the flight treating you, Dr. Reid?" You ask, drowsiness lacing your tone as he sits on the seat opposite of you.

"Oh, it's the same as always, I guess. A little colder than usual, but that's to be expected. By the way, we’re actually lucky that we haven't experienced some semblance of turbulence yet on our flights, considering that the likelihood of it has increased by seventeen-percent in the last decade."

You laugh at that. "You really know just what to say, huh?"

He doesn't see it as funny as you do, so it seems. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or--" "There's no need to apologize, sir. I find everything you have to say interesting, whether you mean it to or not."

He stays silent at that, suddenly nervous, and tries to make himself comfortable. He does so in the hopes that he can finally steel himself to ask you that question.

He talked to Elle earlier when they were waiting for the unsub's call. Asked her if she thought it was weird that he knew what he knew, and if it had anything to do with his inability to get a date. She had reasoned with him that it was because he didn't ask, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

He mulls it over in his head before sighing. Opting to give up and just wait for a more opportune time.

Besides, jury’s still out that you could very well be pining over his boss.

The action, however, seems to remind you of something.

"Before I forget," You look into your baggage, rummaging around before finally finding what it was you were looking for.

You ask him to close his eyes, which he obediently does, and you place a thick rectangular box into his awaiting lap.

The sudden shift in weight causes his eyes to open, and he is certainly surprised to see what was on there.

"What is this?"

"It's your birthday. There wasn't a good time to give it to you, so might as well."

He takes the box into his hands and shakes it a little.

From the sound alone, or near lack thereof, there could be a multitude of things inside it. He looks at you questioningly and you only smile and gesture for him to open it.

He takes his time in doing so, and he doesn't know how or why, but he finds your reactions to his movements much more amusing than whatever could be in the box. As if you were more excited for him.

He finally peers into the now open box to see some sort of purple cloth. A ribbon of geometric designs cutting through its middle and he stares at it in wonder.

"It's a scarf!"

You smile at him, and he was thankful that the rest of the team were either asleep or just not paying attention as it allowed the both of you to savor the moment with at least some semblance of privacy.

"I've noticed that you had a tendency to wear a lot of layers. I wasn't sure if it was because you were cold, or you just liked dressing that way, so I made an educated guess and got you something practical."

And just like that, he's over the moon.

He immediately goes to put it on with a wide smile, paying no mind that it paired so badly with the short sleeves of his button up.

Not that he would know, nor care.

And just when he had been feeling cold earlier too! "Thank you so much. This means a lot to me, especially since you don't usually give gifts."

You shake your head. "I don't, but it's not everyday one spends their twenty-fourth at the BAU."

He continues to observe the cloth that now hung around him. Smoothing his hands over it as he does with an expression unreadable to you.

You worry a bit and hurriedly mention, "I'm sorry if it isn't your color. I see purple show up on your mismatched socks more than any other color, so I just assumed. If it's any consolation, purple is a great color to contrast the warmer hues in brown eyes?"

He flushes at your admission, but matches your urgency to set you straight. "No! Please, I actually really like it-- It's beautiful."

You breathe out a sigh in relief and nod slowly at that.

"Speaking of the color, did you know the origin of purple dye is actually quite fascinating?" His voice filled with enthusiasm. With his eyes, bright, and filled with a child-like fascination that makes your chest feel warm at the sight.

"Historically, purple dye was incredibly rare and valuable, which is why it became associated with royalty and nobility. The earliest known purple dye, known as Tyrian purple, was produced by the ancient Phoenicians around 1200 BC. It was derived from the secretions of a particular type of sea snail, the bolinus brandaris, found in the Mediterranean Sea."

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was boring you, but sees that you're still very much paying attention to him.

"The process to obtain this dye was incredibly labor-intensive and complex. It required thousands of these sea snails to produce just a small amount of dye. The snails would then be collected and left to decompose in large vats. After several days, a gland from the snail was extracted and crushed to produce a purple mucus. This mucus would then be exposed to sunlight, undergoing a chemical reaction that transformed it into the deep, rich purple dye we commonly associate with our modern day equivalent."

As he kept going, he suddenly remembered what Morgan had told him all those weeks ago.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking."

So he does just that.

He observes the way that your shoulders are more relaxed, how your eyes never stray from him, and how the small upturned curve of your lip makes itself known as you rest your cheek onto your propped up fist.

How he has your undivided attention and yet you don't even look the least bit bored of what he has to say. Only silently appreciating and subtly nodding along with the slow blink of your eyelids.

All clear signs of unguarded comfort, and or interest, in his presence.

Had you really been looking at him like that all this time?

Now the idea of you liking your boss seems silly. Especially when you’re looking at him the way he imagines himself looking at you.

"I did know that, actually, Dr. Reid. At the time, Tyrian purple wasn't only desirable for its rarity, people said it was also incredibly lightfast. That it was resistant to fading under the sun and the weather. Not to mention all that hard work that just to get a single gram of it. Then again, modern studies do claim that its lightfastness was, in fact, not an accurate feature as it's color diminished when it was exposed to light and UV radiation."

You laughed a little again, as if remembering some anecdote, and that sound was steadily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Following only after your speaking voice.

"Fortunately for you, doctor, I could only afford a synthetically purple-dyed scarf. Though that means that you won't ever have to worry about it fading under the sun."

Hands up in faux surrender, you give him a tired smile that he returns with one of his own.

A calming silence enveloped the both of you as you continue to bask in each other's presence.

At some point you doze off, draping your blazer on top of yourself to shield yourself from the cold, and that's when he starts considering Elle's words again.

"Do you ever ask anyone out?"

"No,"

"That's why you can't get a date."

He nods to himself, and reclines a little more into his seat. Snuggling into his new scarf that still has the faintest smell of you.

Maybe he will ask you out on a a date later.

_____________________________

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[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 8

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.)

Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it.

From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

Masterlist to the previous parts!

Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

“I’m taking a shower,” he had said. “If you want to use the bathroom, now’s the time.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, stepping into the bathroom. The sticky feeling of his clothes clinging to his body was driving him insane, and he needed relief. The day was unexpectedly warm—not scorching, but the first strong days of spring always seemed to carry an extra weight. 

“Baby, you want breakfast too?” her voice floated through the door just as he bent down to roll off the black trousers of his new uniform. He paused for a moment, the words catching him off guard. 

Something about it felt... off.  The strange limbo they were in. It was the whole situation. He wasn’t usually one to get prudish or shy about his body—expeditions and common showers had long since stripped away any modesty. But as he tossed his clothes into the laundry basket and stood naked in the bathroom, her voice came again, faint but clear. 

“No, baby, get down from there!” 

He turned his head toward the door instinctively, a strange sense of restraint settling over him. Maybe it was because all the previous times he’d showered over the past three weeks, she’d been asleep. Even the night she arrived, she’d gone to bed before he’d had the chance to clean up. 

‘This is so fucking awkward,’ he thought, turning on the water and stepping under the spray. He’d been naked in far less private settings —hell, he’d stripped down and washed off in front of squads of men during expeditions without a second thought. 

‘Yeah, but nobody there was supposed to get knocked up by me.’ 

He sighed, running his hands through his hair as the water cascaded down his body. That was the real difference, wasn’t it? On expeditions, privacy was a luxury, but the situation had always been purely practical. Now, the person in the next room wasn’t just some comrade. She was supposed to be intimate enough to make moments like this normal—but they weren’t. Not yet, at least. 

As he lathered soap across his skin, his thoughts spiraled further. ‘It’s weird middle ground, isn’t it? We’re supposed to be close enough for her to be fine with me taking a shower while she’s awake, but not close enough to share those—what do you call it—quiet, personal moments. 

The thought didn’t stop him from moving through his routine. By now, the soap was rinsed off, and he stood over the sink, ready to shave. The sharp blade of his razor rested in his hand as he straightened up, catching his reflection in the slightly fogged mirror. His gaze drifted across the room as if searching for memories outside his body. 

His thoughts shifted, unbidden. ‘Did I ever go raw before this?’ he wondered, the thought creeping in before he could stop it. The memory of Kenny’s crude “lessons” in life played in his mind, and he frowned. ‘Only thing that bastard ever taught me besides killing—wrap it up.’ He snorted faintly at the absurdity of it. 

He cleaned the razor, his brow furrowed. ‘How many loads does it take to secure a pregnancy, anyway? That’s gotta mess with a guy’s head, constantly thinking about that. And if you’re in heat—’ 

His hand froze mid-motion. ‘And when you’re in heat… is it all doggy style all the time because it’s the “biologically optimal” thing to do? Can you switch it up?’ 

He let out a long breath, shaking his head slowly as he finished shaving. “I should not be thinking about this on a Wednesday morning at 10 a.m. before a meeting,” he muttered to himself, rinsing the blade one last time. 

His mind, however, didn’t seem to get the memo. ‘But seriously, though... does it always have to be on fours? I mean, I like on all fours, but… a whole week of that? Her knees, dude.’ 

Finally, he dried off, pulled on a clean shirt, and opened the door. 

“What took you so long?” she asked, her head tilting slightly as she looked up at him. 

“Nothing,” he replied curtly. 

“It’s very warm today,” she commented, seemingly trying to maintain some level of conversation with the man who was, supposedly, her husband. “Is it always this warm in the south?” 

“Mhm.” Levi only hummed in response, shrugging his jacket over his shoulders before sitting on the couch to pull his boots back on. 

“Breakfast?” she asked again, a cat cradled in her arms as she looked at him. 

“No,” he replied curtly. His head was killing him, and just the thought of food made his stomach churn. He wasn’t paying much attention—just going through his usual morning routine—until he tried brushing off the white cat hairs stubbornly clinging to his black trousers. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue in irritation. 

“Did you brush the cat today?” he asked, finally glancing back at her. 

But the complaint died in the back of his throat when he saw her reflection in the fogged-up bathroom mirror, struggling to put on a pair of earrings. 

A pretty sundress, hair braided half-up, half-down, long lashes accentuated by mascara. 

“Where are you going all dolled up?” 

She stilled for a moment, meeting his eyes in the mirror before turning to face him fully. “You just said I could go out.” 

‘And everything I said after that must have gone in one ear and out the other.’ 

“I want to make a good impression on your squad,” she added before turning back to her reflection, resuming her struggle with the earrings. 

Levi pressed his lips into a thin line, giving it a second thought. He wasn’t the type to regret his decisions, but suddenly, this one didn’t seem like the best idea. 

“My squad barely owns soap bars,” he muttered under his breath. A good first impression felt like overkill considering the social standards of his cadets—not that he held any grudge against them. 

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, fingers laced together as he pondered it. 

“Maybe you should wait until I come back this evening.” 

That snapped her out of it instantly. 

“What?!” She rushed over to him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You just said I could go out!” 

The deep frown, the clenched teeth, the frustration practically radiating off her—it was all clearly meant to intimidate him. It didn’t. 

“I’m just saying, wait a couple more hours. Then I’ll walk you around myself.” 

She took a step back, voice lowering into something much colder. 

“You just said it,” she whispered, anger laced with unmistakable hurt. 

‘Oh... alright, she’s actually upset for real.’ 

Levi sighed through his nose, watching how quickly her disappointment turned into something sharp, something like resentment. 

“Fine,” he relented, exhaling as he sat back. “Just… be careful.” 

— 

“I mean... what’s the worst thing that could happen?” Levi said, recounting his morning as if it were some kind of story. 

“Shhh, talk quieter. My head is killing me,” Hange groaned, sprawled limply in his desk chair, their eyes shielded by a cold, wet towel. “I’m getting old… Remember how we used to laugh at Erwin coming back from those meetings completely wasted? Now look at us—we’re no better.” 

“Excuse me, I’ve never stolen anyone’s underwear while drunk… or high, or both,” Levi shot back, defending his honor as if that cleared him of all other debauchery. He leaned back in his chair, voice deadpan. “I don’t remember half of what I did last night, and the other half’s just a blur. But it wasn’t that bad.” 

Hange snorted, shifting the towel slightly to make room for their smirk. “You used to be this famous thug, and now you can’t handle one night of alcohol and… whatever the hell it was they brought for us to smoke. You’ve lost your edge, Captain.” 

Levi rested his head against the cool surface of the table, reaching for his tea cup without lifting his gaze. “I’m a married man now. That life of bad habits is long behind me.” 

That earned a sharp laugh from Hange, who had to readjust the towel when it slid halfway down their face. “You got married three weeks ago, asshole.” 

Finally deciding to take a sip from his cup, Levi straightened just enough to lift it to his lips—only to immediately grimace in disgust. “This is green tea.” 

“Yeah... my liver wouldn’t survive black tea today,” Hange muttered, not bothering to move the towel from their face. Then, as if the thought had just struck them, they added, “If you have a problem with it, win the elections and become Commander.” 

Levi scoffed. “Only an idiot would want to be Commander.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Hange deadpanned. “What are you? One of those people whose whole personality revolves around their partner?” 

“No,” Levi replied curly, “But it’s my only excuse,” 

— 

Double-checking in the mirror, she whispered to herself, “Good first impressions.” A small nod of encouragement. “Scouts are heads of state now, so good first impressions.” 

She pinched her cheeks lightly, giving them a subtle rosy flush, and hummed in approval. But just as she was about to turn away, her nose wrinkled at something in the air. Slowly pivoting on her heels, her eyes landed on the laundry basket. 

‘It tickles,’ she thought, scrunching her nose as if to shake off the feeling. ‘Silly.’ She gave her head the smallest shake. 

Decisive steps carried her to the office door, excitement bubbling in her chest. Her hand reached for the knob—the same one she had reached for on her first morning here. A firm pull, and it clicked open with ease. The door shifted just a few centimeters, separating from the frame, but she didn’t step through. 

She stood still. 

Her eyes remained locked on her reflection in the gilded surface. 

"Be careful." Levi’s voice echoed in her head. 

The freedom she had wanted so badly was now hers for the taking, yet it filled her with hesitation. 

She rocked her weight from one foot to the other, lips pressed together before glancing to her right—toward the open bathroom door. 

‘I mean… better safe than sorry, right?’ 

Back inside the tiled room, she lifted the wicker lid of the laundry basket. 

‘My friends did this when we were teens. Their parents got so mad…’ 

Her fingers grasped the light grey shirt Levi had worn the entire previous day—and slept in. 

‘I just have to rub my neck against it a little…’ 

A memory surfaced. Her friends sneaking around at parties, brushing up against alphas, pressing their necks together. It wasn’t claiming, but it was something back then. And maybe now, it could be something that helped her, too. 

‘I remember Die was working as a cadet… we shared a kiss through the staircase fence.’ 

The thought brought the ghost of a smile to her lips, brief and bittersweet. 

‘He smelled nice… I remember that.’ 

With more doubts than certainties, she slowly lifted the shirt to her face, pressing the collar against her nose as she took a deep, slow breath. Her eyes fluttered shut, trying to gauge her body’s reaction to it. 

First impression? The same as when she first smelled his jacket. 

Strong. ‘Musky, even’ 

But then—almost instinctively—her body craved more. Another breath. Then another. And before she realized what she was doing, she was rubbing the fabric against her skin, pressing it to her neck in slow, deliberate motions, as if massaging the scent into her skin, soothing in a way she hadn’t expected. 

A low, involuntary purr rumbled in her throat. 

Her eyes shot open in horror. 

She let go of the shirt like it had burned her, watching as it dropped back into the basket. 

Her breath hitched, blood rushing to her cheeks as she stood there, frozen in place. 

‘Oh god… why did I do that?!’ 

Moving robotically, she walked to the couch and sat down, staring in silent mortification. The cat kneading a pillow in the corner was swiftly scooped up as she muttered to it in despair, 

“I just did that… to his shirt?! What is wrong with me?!” 

The cat bumped its head against her chin in response. 

She pushed the animal down with a huff. “…Though, I guess… he’s the only man I’m allowed to react like that for, so… it’s not that bad. Right?” 

“Meow.” 

Newfound conviction in her step, she strode toward the door, this time with more confidence. 

The moment she opened it, she inhaled deeply—ready to embrace the fresh air. 

Only to immediately recoil. 

“Ugh…” she groaned, grimacing. 

Levi’s scent—his natural musk mixed with aftershave, deodorant, and cologne—had been intoxicating. But this? The thick, cloying stench of a hundred alphas all packed together, their scents mingling like scrambled eggs? 

Absolutely disgusting. 

“Never mind.” She shook her head violently, as if trying to physically rid herself of the sensory assault. “Let’s go for a walk!” 

She barely got two steps before the soft patter of tiny paws followed her. 

She turned, spotting her cat trotting after her with eager strides. 

“Aww, sweetie! You wanna come too?” 

Door locked, cat in arms—she was ready for her stroll. 

With the window open, she took in a slow, deep breath, savoring the fresh forest air. The scent of pine and linden soothed her nose, washing away the lingering stench from earlier. The sky stretched bright and blue, the warmth of the sun kissing her skin. 

Looking down from the window frame, she spotted two cadets staring up at her, confusion written all over their faces. 

“Morning!” she chirped, all too pleased to be out, to stretch her legs, to breathe. “Beautiful day, innit?” 

The two teens exchanged glances before nodding—slowly. 

“Uh-huh…” 

Unbothered, she continued her stroll. “Let’s get stuff for a picnic!” 

Following the directions given by another cadet, she eventually reached a set of doors—what she assumed was the mess hall. 

To her surprise, it was mostly empty, save for a few scattered cadets who lifted their heads at the sound of her entrance. Their brows furrowed, confusion evident. 

“Hi,” she greeted, waving. “Morning! The kitchen?” 

One of them pointed toward the far end of the room. 

“Thank you~” she chimed before heading off. 

But before she could get far— 

“Excuse me, girl?” 

She turned on her heel, blinking as a cadet stood from one of the benches. 

“Civilians aren’t allowed to wander around,” he said, eyeing her warily. “If you’re looking for someone, please wait here.” 

“Oh! No, no,” she insisted, waving her hands. “I’m Captain Levi’s wife. I live here.” 

Silence. 

The loudest silence she had ever heard. 

“…See ya!” she added before walking off. 

— 

“We should be training,” Eren muttered, biting into an apple. “Not doing kitchen duties.” 

“Come on, Captain Levi hardly ever cancels morning drills. Yesterday’s after-hours meeting must’ve been intense,” Armin reasoned. “They probably discussed something incredibly serious if they were up so late.” 

“Yeah, like that train they want us to build, and—” 

“A kitty!” 

Jean paused mid-peel, turning to Mikasa’s rare display of enthusiasm. “Yes, a kitty… Wait, a kitty?” 

Mikasa had already abandoned the conversation, beelining toward Y/N with bright, wide eyes locked onto the oversized cat in her arms. 

“Oh, hi,” Y/N greeted, a bit caught off guard as the raven-haired girl approached. “He’s friendly.” 

“Can I pick him up?” 

“Sure.” 

Mikasa carefully took the enormous feline, cradling him against her chest with unexpected gentleness. 

Meanwhile, Sasha and Jean locked eyes across the kitchen, communicating through sheer willpower alone: It’s her! The only two in the squad who had actually seen Y/N before, now confirmed. 

“I always wanted a cat,” Mikasa murmured, stroking the soft fur with genuine delight. “It was my childhood dream…” She lifted Claws slightly, marveling. “He’s so big.” 

Y/N smiled at the sight but soon noticed something odd—everyone else in the room was staring at her. 

She turned slightly, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of their collective gaze. 

“Uh… hi?” she offered with a hesitant grimace. 

Jean straightened up, puffing his chest out slightly. “We’re Captain Levi’s Special Operations Squad,” he announced, the title rolling off his tongue with pride, as if it should impress her. 

Sasha muttered, “Are you flexing?” 

But before Jean could retort, Y/N cut in, “Oh, you’re Levi’s kids.” 

Silence. 

Jean and Connie visibly deflated, their supposed prestigious position reduced to children in an instant. 

“Yes, hi—I’m Armin,” the blond quickly stepped forward, almost extending a hand before deciding against it. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” she replied. 

“Yes. We know.” 

The awkwardness thickened as she realized they all knew who she was, but she had no idea about them. 

“I know you,” Y/N suddenly blurted. “You’re the hallway girl!” 

“Yeah! Sasha!” The brunette grinned. “They didn’t believe me when I said I saw you—you vanished into thin air!” 

Y/N chuckled. “Levi was in a hurry.” 

Armin smirked but quickly winced when Mikasa subtly nudged him, as if to keep him from saying anything else. 

“And you,” Y/N continued, shifting her gaze, “you’re the training ground boy. You dropped the equipment.” 

Laughter erupted from Connie and Sasha as Jean clenched his jaw, looking deeply unamused. 

“…Yeah. Jean.” 

Y/N’s attention drifted, taking in the massive industrial kitchen. “I was actually wondering—who do I ask for a tea?” 

The room fell silent. The squad exchanged glances before, hesitantly, Jean raised his hand like a student answering a question. 

“I… could make one?” 

Y/N beamed. “Aw, thank you!” 

Jean blinked. “…Just, uh… give me a sec.” 

“So… do I have to make the damn tea or not?” Jean whispered, his voice barely audible as the group huddled together in a loose circle of conspiracy, all while Y/N inspected the kitchen behind them. 

Armin, glancing over his shoulder at her with furrowed brows, was the first to break the silence. “I’ve heard that in the MPs, cadets are assigned mundane tasks for their superiors, like picking up their dry cleaning. Maybe she thinks that’s how the Scouts operate too.” 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time talking about the MPs lately, huh, Armin?” Connie teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Armin flushed crimson, his brows knitting together in defense. “What? What do you mean?” 

“You know what we mean,” Sasha chimed in, barely stifling a laugh. 

Jean rolled his eyes, exasperated. “You’re all missing the point. Do I make the damn tea or not?” 

“No,” Eren said flatly, as if the answer were obvious. “Maybe the MPs do this babysitting crap, but we don’t. We’re not the Military Police, and we’re definitely not her personal servants. Just tell her to make her own damn tea.” 

“Maybe she just isn’t used to our kitchen,” Mikasa offered, her tone more considerate as she glanced at Y/N. 

“Let’s just tell her—very subtly—” 

Armin’s attempt at diplomacy was cut off by Jean, who groaned loudly. “That’s not what I mean! I’m asking what the chain of command is when a wife shows up!” 

The Shiganshina trio collectively raised an eyebrow, their faces a mixture of disbelief and judgment. 

“What chain of command?” Eren asked, crossing his arms. “She’s not a soldier. She doesn’t give us orders.” 

Jean snorted. “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t remember how households work, but my dad never had the last word in our house—ever.” 

Armin placed a calming hand on Eren, who looked ready to take offense. “Jean, come on,” Armin said gently, though his expression clearly showed he thought the question was absurd. 

“No, no, Horse Face is right,”  

Jean’s brief moment of smug satisfaction was immediately shattered. “OI! Watch it, potato brain!” 

Ignoring him, Connie continued, “Yeah, my dad couldn’t do anything without asking my mom first. It was always, ‘Did you ask your mother?’ or ‘What does your mother say?’ And nine times out of ten, my mom said no.” 

Sasha chimed in, nodding vigorously. “Yeah, my dad would act like he was in charge, but if my mom caught wind of something she didn’t like, he was dead meat.” 

Mikasa, listening quietly, finally murmured, “I remember... my mom was the one who made the decisions too.” 

Jean gestured wildly toward Sasha and Connie. “Exactly what I’m saying! If Captain Levi got married and now she’s the one giving him the dead-eye stare when she doesn’t like his decisions, where does that put her in the chain of command? Who’s higher in the chain of command: him or her?” 

“Her.” 

“Him.” 

“Captain Levi isn’t our dad, though,” Eren muttered, still trying to wrap his head around the logic. “Men are still the head of the house, so he’s still in charge. She’s not our boss.” 

“But if she gets mad and complains to Captain Levi, and he takes it out on us, then what?” Sasha pointed out. “We’re screwed either way.” 

“Exactly,” Armin said, nodding gravely. “If we don’t do what she wants, she’ll complain, and Captain Levi will get pissed. If we don’t follow his orders, he’ll punish us directly. It’s a lose-lose situation.” 

The group fell silent, clearly no closer to an agreement. Mikasa broke the tension with a hesitant question. “So… would that mean if Commander Erwin got married, his wife would have outrank all of us?” 

Connie snickered. “Why not Commander Hange’s imaginary wife instead?” 

“Be realistic,” Eren muttered. 

As their bickering continued, Y/N stood by, watching them with growing confusion. ‘Maybe they’re busy working,’ she thought, eyeing the kettle that no one had touched. ‘Levi said not to interrupt them while they’re working.’ 

“Don’t worry about it, guys,” she finally announced. “I’ll just go for a walk instead.” 

The group froze. Six pairs of eyes turned toward her in unison, panic flashing across their faces. Armin forced a sympathetic smile. “W-Where are you going?” 

Y/N blinked, startled by their sudden interest. “I thought I’d take a stroll in the forest…” 

Back in their circle, the squad exchanged panicked glances. One by one, they shifted closer to the kitchen door, as if preparing to block her path. Jean, quick on his feet, plastered on a bright smile and stepped in front of her. 

“Eh?” she asked, tilting her head. 

“Haha, look at the time!” Jean said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why don’t you stay here for a little while longer?” 

“I want to go out,” she insisted, her brow furrowing as she tried to move past him. “If you’ll excuse me—” 

“Uh, maybe… maybe stay here while we, um…” Sasha stammered, desperately searching for the right words. 

Y/N’s eyes widened as her unease turned into alarm. “Are you... are you kidnapping me?” 

“No, no, no!” they all shouted in unison, waving their hands in frantic denial. 

“You’re not kidnapped,” Armin assured her, his sweet smile doing little to ease her nerves. “You’re just... um... confined for now.” 

Her face twisted into horror. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, NOT AGAIN!” 

— 

When Hange walked back into the office, Levi was already up, slamming a stack of papers together. 

“Leaving so early?” 

“Yeah. I should really go train the brats after lunch.” 

The only brown eye not covered lingered on him, their lips twitching as they held back a remark. Hange, leaning back in their chair with an all-too-knowing smirk, tilted their head. “Oh sure, I bet the fresh air will help with the headache.” 

Levi exhaled sharply, unconvinced. Tucking the papers under his arm, he turned to leave—only to freeze at the door. Slowly, he turned back, narrowing his eyes as Hange spun lazily in their chair, still smirking. 

“…What?” 

“I said absolutely nothing.” 

His squinted in suspicion. “You’re so fucking weird.” 

The moment he stepped outside, something felt… off. 

The usual background noise of cadets moving between tasks was there, but underneath it, hushed murmurs—giggling. 

Giggling. 

Levi’s pace slowed as he glanced around. Small groups of soldiers spoke among themselves, some pressing hands to their mouths, others grinning. But what truly set his nerves on edge was what happened when they noticed him. 

Suddenly, as if on cue, they snapped to attention and beamed. 

“Good morning, Captain!” 

A perfectly polite, perfectly innocent greeting. 

Too innocent. 

“Morning,” he replied curtly. Levi narrowed his eyes but kept walking, his boots clicking sharply against the stone path. 

The tension in his gut twisted tighter when he passed another group and, again, the moment they saw him—bright smiles, too chipper, too eager. 

Something was going on. 

His grip flexed at his sides, his headache worsening as he rounded the corner toward the mess hall. And then— 

“Good morning, sir!” 

He barely glanced at the cadet who greeted him, about to walk past when— 

“Your wife is very cute, sir.” 

Levi stopped. 

The air suddenly felt much heavier. 

His eyes flickered to the girl, who gave him an innocent, approving nod before carrying on, completely unaware that she had just turned his entire morning into a waking nightmare. 

A slow, sinking realization crept up his spine. 

The whispers. The giggles. The weird smiling. 

"For fuck’s sake..." Levi whispered, raising a hand to his face, already feeling the embarrassment creeping in. 

Her trail wasn’t hard to follow—he just had to go wherever the biggest crowd had gathered. Sure enough, he found them in the kitchen, the one place most cadets usually avoided to escape extra duties. Yet, now, everyone was hanging around like it was the goddamn market square. 

"Don’t you all have something better to do?" Levi spat, and like cockroaches when the light comes on, they scrambled, trying to make themselves scarce before they got dragged into something. "Or do I need to start handing out tasks?" 

A few murmured "No, sir," their heads ducking, backs curving as if making themselves smaller would save them from his wrath. 

Then, from the other side of the door— 

"HE SAID I COULD GO OUT!" 

A piercing scream from Y/N. 

Levi’s brows twitched as he marched over, shoving the door open. "What the hell is going on here?" 

"Levi!" "Captain!" 

The second he stepped in, everyone started talking at once, loudly, voices overlapping and stabbing at his already-pounding head. 

Levi clenched his jaw. "Enough." His voice came out sharp, cold. 

Silence fell instantly. 

"They’re forcing me to stay here!" Y/N snapped, pointing at his squad. "They kidnapped me!" 

Slowly, Levi turned his attention to his subordinates and muttered under his breath, "What part of 'act normal and behave' did you not understand?" 

"She wants to go into the forest alone," Jean cut in, standing his ground. 

That successfully shifted Levi’s attention. 

"Get to the training grounds," he ordered, not bothering to look back at them. "I’ll be there in a minute." 

The squad practically bolted, shutting the door behind them. 

Now alone with her, Levi exhaled through his nose. Levi’s arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze locked onto her as she stood defiantly before him. 

“I did absolutely nothing wrong,” she huffed. 

“Oh yeah?” Levi drawled, his expression unreadable “Then why the hell is the entire regiment gathered outside?” 

She scoffed. “I don’t know, maybe they’ve got nothing better to do? I just greeted people in the hallways, that’s not illegal. What, saying hello is a crime now?” 

Levi exhaled sharply, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t need to be overly friendly.” 

“Well, excuse my good manners!” 

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “You already went out. You can go back to the office.” 

“I’m not doing that,” she folded her arms stubbornly. “I want to go for a walk.” 

His frown deepened. “You’re not going into the forest.” He sighed, his patience nearing its breaking point. 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know, maybe wolves?” he deadpanned. “Perhaps people, thieves? You’re going to get lost.” 

“Well, I’ll stay close by.” 

Levi let out a scoff. “We use the forest for training with the 3DMG. We don’t live in the middle of it for pleasure. If someone drops a weapon or knocks off and you get hurt, it’s on me. I told you—this is a place where people are working.” 

Her jaw clenched. “I don’t want to be closed up in that room anymore.” 

He gave her a look, calm but firm. "Open a window." 

“Open a—?! Levi, I’m not a prisoner!” she snapped, frustration boiling over. 

“Never said you were,” he shot back. “But this ain’t a damn vacation spot either.” 

She groaned, rubbing her temples. Then, as if on cue, Claws meowed from her arms, reminding Levi of another problem. 

“And don’t take the cat out without a leash,” he added. “It’s gonna get lost, and guess what? The idiot who’ll have to go looking for it in the forest will be me.” 

“He’s not gonna run off,” she insisted. 

Levi ignored that. “Go back to the office and—I don’t know, paint something.” 

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh, eyes burning with indignation. “I’m not a little girl you can just set back to colouring books, Levi!” 

He was already opening his mouth for another snarky retort when something made him pause. His nose twitched slightly. It caught him so off guard to catch a whiff of her scent that all the arguments disappeared. 

How had it ended up with him standing there, watching the cadets train with the 3DMG while she sat on a bench outside, having lunch? He had no idea. 

"You’re not hungry?" 

"I grabbed something at work," he replied, his eyes still glued to the training. 

She passed him her meal, her hand covering her mouth a little before asking, "What are you doing?" 

"Watching them train." 

Her eyes shifted to the trees, watching the cadets swing through them with ease. "That’s all?" she asked, confused. 

Levi crossed his arms and took a deep breath. "I watch their patterns and correct them." 

"Ah," she sighed in understanding. "So, you’re good at that?" 

"At 3DMG?" Levi raised an eyebrow as if it wasn’t obvious. She hummed a response. "Yeah, a little." 

Y/N accepted this without giving it much thought, continuing with her art, cleaning her hands every so often to avoid staining the sketch. "Which one is Eren?" 

He wasn’t used to the chitchat during work, so it threw him off each time she spoke. "The brunette. Why?" 

"I read about him in the newspapers," Y/N replied, raising her attention from her work to compare her pencil strokes. She squinted at it for a moment. "I also read about you torturing someone. It didn’t do you any favours." 

"Your newspapers didn’t mention the MPs covering up the real monarchy?" 

"No, my parents didn’t buy that kind of newspaper." 

Her answer made him scoff, entertained, realizing she probably meant it without any opposition to the new head of power. 

He tried following her gaze, wondering what she was working on so intently. But he couldn’t make sense of it. "What are you drawing?" Levi tilted back to catch a glimpse of the paper. 

Without a hint of hesitation, she turned her sketchbook around to show him. "You." 

Levi froze in horror, a cringe creeping up his spine. 

"Don’t fucking draw me." 

"Why not? You have a good side profile." 

"Draw something else. You’ve got the whole fucking forest." Levi insisted, but when he saw her uninterested continuation, he grabbed the pencil from her hand. 

"Hey!" she pouted. "Give it back." 

"Maybe you should go back to the office. Plenty of pencils there," Levi shot, hoping to put an end to this nonsense of her hanging around outside. 

There was a brief silence before she stood up. "Fine… but only because I’m getting sunburned." She reached down, picking up the cat that had been wandering around on a leash. "I’m taking the baby." Her tone made it sound like they were in the middle of a divorce settlement, negotiating custody. 

"Better for me." 

As the sun dipped lower and training came to an end, Levi took the opportunity to address the cadets. "When I tell you to do something, just do it. If she tries anything, I’ll handle it. Don’t get involved." 

They all nodded slowly, though Connie hesitantly raised a hand. 

Levi exhaled sharply. "What?" 

Armin shook his head, silently warning Connie to drop it, but the he didn’t take the hint. "We were just… a bit confused." 

Levi’s patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Confused about what?" 

"Just drop it, dude," Jean whispered. 

But under the captain’s intense stare, there was no backing out now. Connie swallowed hard. "About… who has the final say." 

Levi processed the words, taking a slow moment to let the implication sink in. Then, his voice carried loud and clear: "Raise your hand if you think she’s in charge." 

Shakily, Sasha and Connie obeyed. After a sharp kick from Eren, Jean reluctantly raised his hand too, clicking his tongue in annoyance. 

They all avoided Levi’s dead-eyed stare, suddenly finding the gravel beneath their boots fascinating. 

Levi let the silence drag before finally speaking, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why don’t the three of you give me twenty push-ups to help jog your memory on who’s actually in charge?" 

Groans of protest echoed through the training grounds, the evening sky now tinged with warm tangerine light. 

Eren smirked proudly at Armin, as if they had somehow passed some kind of test. Levi glanced at them. "And the three of you who didn’t stop this bullshit? Another twenty." 

"Oh, fuck me," they all muttered under their breath. 

— 

That night, Levi was washing his face at the sink when he caught movement in the doorway. He looked up, eyes meeting hers in the reflection. "What?" 

"I want to go to Trost the day after tomorrow." 

Levi frowned, still bent over the sink, before slowly straightening up. "And who told you I was going to Trost?" 

"The cadets." 

Grabbing a towel, he patted his face dry. "No." 

"Why not?" she asked, following him as he moved to the bedroom after his post-training shower. 

Levi hated being chased around, but clearly, she wasn’t letting this one go. "Because I said so," Levi muttered, pulling a shirt from the drawer. His damp hair pushed backwards and still dripping a little bit. "I’m just going for a quick business deal with the Reiss company. In and out." 

"But since you’re already going, I want to go and walk around," she insisted. "The cadets want to go too." 

Slamming the drawer shut, he sighed. "What they want is none of my damn problem." 

Under normal circumstances, she would have minded seeing him shirtless, but right now, she was too annoyed by his attitude to care. Each pause he took in the argument to get dressed only added to her frustration. 

"First today, now Trost," Levi continued, slipping on the shirt. " I can’t be walking around with you glued to my side,"  

He braced himself for protests, whining, maybe even some outright complaining— But when he finally looked up, her eyes were glassy. 

Levi blinked. "What now?" 

‘Oh no. 

Not the fucking puppy eyes again.’ 

She hesitated, then whispered, "Are you… ashamed to be seen with me?" 

"No," he snapped instantly, raising a finger in the air. "That’s not what I fucking said." 

But she just shook her head and walked off toward the office, her head down. 

"Come on. You know that’s not what I meant," Levi called after her. 

No answer. 

"Y/N—" 

No answer. 

— 

The next morning at breakfast, Levi dropped into his seat with a scowl. "We’re going to Trost tomorrow." 

His squad erupted into cheers, high-fiving each other. 

"Tch. Fuck me," he muttered under his breath. 

Armin, ever the strategist, tilted his head. "May I ask why, sir?" 

Levi stabbed his fork into his food. "Because she wants to go." 

Across the table, Sasha leaned toward Connie and Jean, whispering, "I’m confused... so, in the end, who is actually in charge?" 

(I know much didn't happen in this chapter but I promise you I'm cooking T-T)

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[zorosangell]

Hi there! I hope you are well. I just found your blog and I loved everything you write, I was thinking about a writing that I think I've seen only a brief incorrect quote where Zoro becomes 40-year-old Zoro for a while and the reader, instead of worrying, feels horny seeing Zoro that way and well, I'll leave the rest to your imagination. If you don't feel comfortable with this request, you can ignore it. Thanks anyway 🫶

⛥ﾟ・。 theory

synopsis: the effects of a devil fruit age zoro into a forty year-old version of himself. and after his initial annoyance passes, he grows thankful... as you can't seem to keep your hands off him.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, reader is shameless, reader is down bad for zoro, zoro's a bit of a simp.

a/n: gnawing on the bars of my enclosure I NEED THIS MAN

"Are you gonna stop staring at me any time soon?" Zoro sighed, crossing his thick arms over his chest as he glanced at you out the corner of his eye, voice gruff and seasoned. "'Cause you've been sittin' there with the same look on your face for past thirty minutes..."

"Never," you instantly shook your head, eyes starry as they raked over him for the hundredth time.

Your expression didn't even attempt at concealing the thoughts racing through your mind.

But if they could be attributed to one word, it would be—

Nasty.

"I don't get why you're so riled up..." he scoffed, turning his gaze away from you, cheeks a faint tinge of pink. "I'm out of my prime. My body's all soft..."

He glanced down at his abdomen, annoyed, as what were once rock-hard abs, were now flesh-hard, all of his muscles slightly softer with age.

He'd spent years fine-tuning his body, training and throwing himself at trial after trial in order to hone it into the perfect medium for his swordplay.

Only for all his hard work to be undone in one afternoon.

And only for you to be utterly elated about it.

"I know right!" you beamed, resting a fascinated hand on his stomach, gently caressing his torso.

You sat next to him on your knees, body turned to face him completely so you could get a perfect view of his face.

For the first time in your life, you were thankful for an annoying, D-List devil fruit user—as without that weird man from the last island, you never would've been able to experience the sight that was your swordsman in his forties.

At least... not for another twenty years.

Besides, you didn't let the appearance fool you.

Your swordsman was just as strong, if not more, in this body—he just had a little extra beef, is all.

And you were absolutely loving it.

"I thought you liked my muscles?" Zoro raised a brow, still lost at how cool you were with all this.

When he got changed, he thought you wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole, or at least steer clear until it wore off, in fear of things becoming awkward.

But you were all over him—even more so than usual.

"I love your muscles," you admitted, shamelessly. "But there's something about you older that's just..."

You smiled a coy smile, looking off to the side as you let out a sigh of content, your face painting him a perfect picture.

"(y/n)... at this age, I'm old enough to be your dad," Zoro deadpanned, face burning at your insinuation.

"You act like that's supposed to deter me..."

"(Y/N)!"

"I'm just being honest! You're hot, Zoro! I don't know what else you want from me!"

Embarrassed, the man turned away from you, glancing out at sea in an attempt to hide it.

'Crazy woman...'

Some days, he just didn't understand you.

"Don't give me that face," you scoffed, giving his shoulder a soft smack. "You're telling me that if I was turned into a forty year-old bombshell, you wouldn't be into it? ...At all?"

Zoro paused, taking a moment to think.

You... your curves and hips filled out even more than they already were, acting as perfect places to rest his hands.

You... your stomach and thighs thick with some pudge, primed for grabbing and kneading.

You... your tits slightly bigger, enlarged by the children you'd given him.

You... your voice slightly deeper, seasoned with enough age and wisdom to give you a permanent bedroom voice.

It sounded like a dream.

He smirked, eyes flicking to the crow's nest—where the bastard who changed him was being locked up—with a faint glimmer.

A dream... he was more than willing to indulge in.

Without warning, he stood up from the bench, tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

You let out a yelp of surprise, face burning as your hands quickly moved to cover your skirt, not wanting to accidentally flash the crew.

"Zoro! What are you—?! You can't just grab me!" you flushed, mortified, as he began to walk toward the crow's nest, holding you as if you were a sack of potatoes. "Where are we even going?!"

Amused, Zoro let out a devious, knowing chuckle, his hand giving your thigh a quick squeeze.

"I got a theory I wanna test... and I need your help..."

And if his theory was right, you two wouldn't be making it out his room for the rest of the night.

[restinslices]

okay chat maybe him like getting jealous

Assuming you’re the anon who asked about Spooky

Him this episode >>>>>>>>>>

I've seen posts before about Spooky and people say he'd pull out a gun and start swearing when he's jealous and really show his ass but honestly? I don't think that's accurate 

I haven't watched OMB in a hot minute and Netflix is being some hoes rn so forgive me if I'm wrong but wasn't he incredibly patient?

He was patient with Cesar and with Cesar’s friends. I don't recall him ever losing his temper and going insane besides season 4 when he heard people fucking shit up outside 

Spooky gives me the silent jealous type. Silent but also petty 

Like if you came back to him after talking to a guy he'd say some petty shit like “thought you'd be around him all day”

“That's your man now, right?” “Stop being childish”

You could tell when he's jealous though cause you'd feel him staring at you the whole time 

I could also see him clearing his throat loud as hell if you're nearby to both get your attention and introduce him to whoever it is you're talking to 

It's gotta be a guy he doesn't know cause realistically what Santo is dumb enough to flirt with you?

I feel like I'm expected to say he'd have this huge outburst but Oscar doesn't give me that vibe. He's pretty patient and I think especially if y'all have been together for an extended amount of time, he'd feel secure enough to know you won't do some foul shit 

I feel like someone touching you would cause him to immediately get involved. He'd walk over and physically take their hand off of you while pulling you closer to him or behind him 

And let's be real, no one is dumb enough to try shit with him. He's 6’1 and known as the leader of the Santos 

But if someone did try him because they're drunk or whatever, I feel that even though he's jealous he'd still put your safety first. His jealousy would go to the back of his mind and he'd try to get you out in case shit gets intense 

Another situation he'd step in is if you're visibly uncomfortable. Typically if someone's flirting with you, he knows you can handle it but if you're so obviously uncomfortable then he'd step in and get you away 

I feel like if you're dating Oscar your safety would go over everything so while he's still a man and wants to play all big and bad in whoever's face, getting you away is his biggest priority 

“Are you jealous?” “Should I be?” “No” then he'd nod or smth 

Now let's say you're hanging around a new guy a lot. Would he get jealous? Probably. He's a guy. 

This is a different situation ‘cause he's not seeing anything. He can't pull you away. What does he do?

Short answer; nothing. Long answer; he doesn't seem like the type to be so jealous he'd snoop on your phone or follow you because relationships require trust and if you caught him, you'd be upset. I could see him asking questions about the guy and then denying he's jealous ‘cause “I have nothing to be jealous about”

And it's like??? Are you telling me  that or telling yourself that? 

Over time it'd become obvious he's feeling a certain way. You'd say you're gonna hang out with whoever the guy is and he'd just make a “mmm” sound instead of actually responding 

“Something wrong?” “I didn't say anything” “Exactly”. Eventually it'd come out though 

And the idea of him flirting with someone else to make you jealous comes up but I don't think that'd happen. He hardly has any relationships besides his gang which means he hardly has any close relationships. He has the kids, who he's like an older brother too (or literally an older brother to) and Mario (and we don't know how much they interact) so I don't see him risking a relationship just to be on petty shit 

He'd say smth petty but flirting with someone else just as payback for some shit you can't control? Nah

You could probably calm him down easily just by being near him. Making jokes about him being jealous would help also because it's you acknowledging that you see how he feels without having a sappy ass conversation 

I feel like this is so anticlimactic and disappointing but realistically I don't see him flipping his shit. He's 19-25, which could make him a bit immature but 1) he's grown up quickly so I think he can handle his emotions. 2) He has two strikes already. He's not popping his shit and risking life in prison because he was jealous. And 3) he knows you know where home is. 

He gets jealous, sure, but all those reasons stacked together makes him act calm, only getting somewhat aggressive if someone is touching you or making you uncomfortable. He’s more petty than anything

Quick story time. So I got away from my abusive dad when I was 13-14, right. I was also obsessed with Spooky. Tell me why my therapist said “I think you love him so much because he’s a strong and scary guy and in your head he’d protect you if your dad came back for you”. The way I almost blocked her-

I’m still seeing her years later😃

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Worth More than Gold (Reader x Laios Touden)

@alex126486 Reader first meeting laios in gold scraping , reader listens laios fascination on monsters and what they tasted like then asking he could cook one for him one day

"Do you remember? Back when we first started out with gold scraping?" You chuckle over at the tallman.

Laios doesn't look up from where he sits preparing the rest of the vegetables from Senshi's garden for you to fry up with the last of the basilisk meat and egg you're making. "Remember what?"

it's always been exciting being around Laios.

You were one of the Touden Party's three mages. Marcille with her explosive fire specialty, Falin with her cleric powers, and you with a specialty in protection and gnomish magic.

You once worked together with him as part of a gold-scraping band.

And it was then that he began talking to you all about his fascination towards monsters.

Little facts about the creatures you would face.

And when you gave no indication of disgust, Laios took the opportunity and ran with it, happily expounding upon monster features for hours upon end.

And when it became clear that you enjoyed his sessions of information -

he began to speculate with you about how monsters tasted.

Would a cockatrice taste more like chicken or more like reptile?

Do strangling plants have sweeter fruits than man-eating plants?

"Who knows? Maybe one day I'll cook you one."

Laios' jaw dropped, and he looked almost about to cry before he nodded seriously.

"That sounds great! What are you thinking of cooking?"

And years later, after traveling with Senshi deeper and deeper into the dungeon, you remember your offhand little promise.

"I once said I'd cook a monster for you. Way back when we were gold scraping."

Laios beams, and you know he never forgot. "I did! I didn't think you had."

"I hadn't, til just now. It must be so much fun for you to discover all the answers to the questions you've had."

Laios nods. "It's a dream come true!"

He glances over at a glum Marcille. "Though of course, saving Falin's the top priority."

"Of course." You nod. "Though if I can be honest, I've really enjoyed the stuff you and Senshi have made."

"That's great!"

"I know Marcille and Chilchuck tend to be squeamish about it-"

("Hey!" Marcille whines)

"-but I dunno. So-called 'normal' animals are pretty weird and gross too, but we eat them. Farming can be nasty too, what with fertilizer, but we don't consider crops gross. It's all just... part of a cycle. If you can make it taste good and it's safe to eat, then why not?"

Laios looks at you with something akin to awe. Chilchuck and Marcille look as though they have lost an ally to madness.

"Anyway, try this. I wanna know if I seasoned it enough." You hurriedly say, seeing Laios still looking at you with that strange expression.

He opens his mouth, seemingly expecting you to... feed him?

So you do, resting the chunk of cooked egg and meat on his tongue, feeling his mouth close around your fingers.

So innocuous, but so intimate, your fingertips compressed as his mouth moves from them, slipping out from the corners.

Part of you is going crazy, thinking one thought - that you've just put your fingers in a teammate's mouth and he just... ate from them. His lips touched your fingers.

His eyes flash up to yours. "Mmmmmm! That's perfectly seasoned."

"Oh! Uh... good." you feel your face heating. Chilchuck smirks over at you. "Good. Those vegetables, then?"

He happily hands them to you.

"Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For keeping your promise. For cooking. For feeding me."

It's an odd way of phrasing it, but you enjoy the sentiment. "You are welcome, Laios... anytime."

He grins, and leans in close. "You might even be better at cooking than Senshi. It might just be that tallmen have different palates and spices they like, but I love it when you cook."

"I, uh... thanks. That means a lot."

You all but flee to prepare the stir-fry, lowering your gaze, smiling to yourself.

Maybe nothing happened yet, and he's just being nice.

But the friend you've had a crush on since those days of gold-scraping has just practically kissed your hand and complimented your cooking.

And that is worth far more than any gold.

[blueeyedgirll]

shark week surprise - spencer reid x f!reader

spencer reid x f!reader on her period

this fic includes: fluff, descriptions of bad periods and period paraphernalia, spencer being a sweetie pie and doting on you, established relationship, non-bau reader, pet names, early seasons spencer, use of midol, no use of y/n, unrealistic depiction of spencer's job, reader being shorter than spencer

word count: 1,053

a/n: you'll never guess what time of the month it is for me ;) im testing out using gifs on my fics so tell me what you think my lovely returning readers!

"It hurts," you say into your phone.

"I know it does, honey. I'm sorry. I'm sure a heating pad and some medicine can help with your cramps," Spencer responds sympathetically, recalling all of the period remedies he had learned.

"I took some Midol about an hour ago and I have the heating pad on right now. It's not helping much."

"Hmm..." Spencer pauses for a moment. "I've read that light exercise and hot tea or water can help. Are you feeling well enough to talk to the kitchen and make some tea? I think there's still some of the chamomile and honey tea I bought you in the pantry, and the walking might help."

"I should be alright. Will you stay on the phone with me?" you plead.

"Of course I will. Luckily, I'm in my hotel room for the night, so I have as much time as you need."

"Thank you, Spence."

"You're welcome, love."

You hobble to your kitchen, phone in hand, and start to make yourself a cup of chamomile tea.

The few minutes it took for the kettle to boil felt excruciatingly long, but having Spencer on the phone to distract you helped.

"I was reading an article about Spanish idioms, and I saw one I thought you would like," Spencer prompts.

"Yeah? What's that?" You say, leaning against your kitchen counter.

"Well, it literally means 'Thinking about the immortality of the crab,' but it's a way to say that instead of just sitting idly, you were engaged in active thought or daydreaming. Kind of like saying you're just letting your mind wander," Spencer says, his voice growing more excited as he elaborates.

"I think about the immortality of the crab a lot, then," You joke.

"I know. That's why I thought you would like it."

You scoff and bring your now finished cup of tea back into your bedroom, where you had been hibernating amidst every fuzzy blanket you could find.

You pull the heating pad back over your lap and get as cozy as you can with your hellish cramps. As nice as your bedspread may be, however, you know that you would be a lot more comfortable with Spencer cuddled up next to you.

"When are you gonna be back home, Spencer?" You ask.

"Well, we haven't gotten very many good leads, so we're a little stuck right now. It might be a few more days. I'm sorry, honey," He responds apologetically.

"Oh... That's okay. I get it."

You did get it. It wasn't uncommon for Spencer to be gone for days, sometimes a few weeks at a time. But the searing pain and high estrogen levels just made you want him near you even more.

"I'm sorry. You know I would so much rather be taking care of you right now," Spencer follows.

"Ain't no rest for the wicked."

"Exactly." Spencer pauses for a moment, lets out a sigh, and shuffles around in his room. "You should get some rest. You may feel better tomorrow as your hormones decrease."

"I know. I love you, Spence."

"I love you too, darling. I'll see you soon. Hang in there."

"I will. Bye."

You hang up the phone and sigh dramatically. It was only Friday night, and without work to prepare for or Spencer to spend time with, you were forced to entertain yourself for the weekend.

You start by putting on an older show to rewatch, but don't make it through much before you fall into an uncomfortable sleep.

You wake up the next morning to your phone ringing. Rubbing your dry eyes, you pick up your phone and see Spencer's contact flash across your screen. You pick up, clearing your throat before you speak.

"Morning, love."

"It's eleven AM, darling. But good morning to you, too," Spencer responds. In the background of the call, you hear what sounds like a turn signal.

"Whatever. Where are you?"

"I'm in the car," He says uninformatively.

"Okay, then where are you heading?"

"To my destination."

What a turd. You groan in exasperation.

"If it makes you feel better, I have something for you,' Spencer tells you.

"Like what?"

"It should be arriving just about now, actually."

"What do you mean?" You question.

Before you could ask him anything else, you hear a knock at your door.

"Hang on, Spence. Someone's at the door," You say, placing your eye to the peephole.

To your great surprise, you see a tiny image of Spencer smiling outside your door with his phone up to his ear. You fling the door open and affirm that he is, in fact, at your door.

"Spencer!" You exclaim. He greets you as he throws his arms around you, lightly squishing you against his chest.

"I thought you weren't gonna be home for a few more days. What changed?" You ask, pulling away from his embrace to look up into his sweet brown eyes.

"The unsub basically turned himself in, so we all got to go home early. I would have came here earlier, but I had to make a stop," He says, gesturing to his right hand.

You look down to see a shopping bag. He smiles and walks into your living room, urging you to follow.

He slowly unpacks the bag, announcing every item as it appears.

"An array of candy -- fruit flavored as well as chocolate --, electrolyte drinks to keep you hydrated, a new bottle of Midol to help with the pain, and..." Out of a separate bag you hadn't noticed before, he pulls out a bouquet of fresh flowers. "Flowers because I thought you would like them."

He hands you the flowers and you smile up at him before enclosing him in another hug.

"Thank you, Spencer. You're so sweet."

"I'm just trying to make you feel better," He says, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"You're doing great."

He smiles into your hair before pulling away.

"What do you want to do? We can watch movies in bed, I can draw you a bath, we can go for a walk..." He trails off, looking to your for an answer.

"Let's go watch movies. We can find that new one we wanted to watch."

"Sounds good to me, love," He says, following you into the bedroom, snacks in hand.

[screamingcrows]

Notes: Reupload of an ask box drabble for the prompt "a kiss out of spite". Steal for anything and I'm spreading Anobium punctatum in your home. Tags: Alhaitham x reader, established relationship, 700 words Minors DNI

Alhaitham knew it had to be his fault that you were currently huffing and puffing in frustration. Why else would you so angrily be collecting scattered papers and books, snapping thomes shut with no care for placing a bookmark first. You had been prone to such harmless, if petty, ploys of 'revenge' since he'd first met you.

Admittedly, your shared space had begun resembling the aftermath of an exam season, something neither of you had needed to stress about for years. When he shifted slightly in the couch it didn't go unnoticed, and his stomach churned at the scowl on your face. He hated this just as much as you, but there was nothing to be done really.

"I said I'd tidy up once I was finished working," he attempted to pacify, making his voice as neutral as possible.

"Not everything can be pushed around based on your schedule," you snapped at him, voice shaking slightly.

So this was about more than just the clutter then. Gently closing the book in his hand, Alhaitham considered how to proceed, letting his eyes drift towards your face. For a moment, he wondered if spring had finally set in before realising with a bleeding heart that your eyes were red for an entirely different reason.

You were evidently upset, holding his stare with a passion that was rare. It clicked into place far sooner than he'd have liked, he'd been horrible, hadn't he?

"I-.. I haven't been fair to you these past few weeks. This was precisely what I've wanted to avoid, and I'm sorry for not noticing sooner," he stood up as he spoke, hating the way you stepped back, placing a broom between the two of you. Another barrier.

"I've barely spoken to you since you became the Acting Grand Sage, barely even seen you, and- and I thought today would be different. I got so excited that you stayed home 'haitham, I cleared my damned schedule to stay with you,"

He took a deep breath, knowing now would be a bad time to point out that he'd never made any indication that he would have any free time today. That wasn't a conversation either of you needed right now. Before he could reply, you already made a verbal lunge.

"There's no partnership in this, and I'm sick and tired of doing everything without so much as a single acknowledgement from you and-"

"Sit."

"What? No."

Alhaitham did what he could to stop his hands from trembling when he reached out and pried the broom from you, immediately regretting having let it clatter to the ground, the sound doing nothing to break the tension.

With a firm hand, Alhaitham guides you to sit before taking the spot beside you. No amount of noise cancelling would be enough to drown out the thundering beat of his heart. How had he allowed himself to become so blind to the weight upon your shoulders?

If the broadest shoulders must bear the heaviest load, how had he ever let himself so carelessly neglect assessing the tired look in your lovely eyes? But your fingers remained intertwined with his, you were disappointed but not enough to loathe him. That by itself was reason enough to not overthink but act.

"The day isn't over, my work can wait. We could go for a picnic, it shouldn't be too warm and we have leftovers to bring. I can go to the bazaar and get fruit while you get ready," his mind was running as fast as possible, voice struggling to keep up.

"I don't want it to be forced, and that's exactly what you're doing right now."

His eyes widened slightly, struck by lightning when you pulled your hand from his.

"Tomorrow then, the entire day?"

He saw how your eyes narrowed, which only made the surge of relief he felt that much greater as you yanked his earpiece to the side to press a kiss to the shell of his ear. You were still scowling, arms crossed in front of your chest as a petulant toddler.

But now Alhaitham had no doubt that it was strictly for show.

"Three more weeks and I'm back to lazing around as much as you want. And ah-," he cleared his throat sheepishly, "handling my own clutter in a more timely manner."

[artsekey]

I'd been seeing videos on Tiktok and Youtube about how younger Gen Z & Gen Alpha were demonstrating low computer literacy & below benchmark reading & writing skills, but-- like with many things on the internet-- I assumed most of what I read and watched was exaggerated. Hell, even if things were as bad as people were saying, it would be at least ~5 years before I started seeing the problem in higher education.

I was very wrong.

Of the many applications I've read this application season, only %6 percent demonstrated would I would consider a college-level mastery of language & grammar. The students writing these applications have been enrolled in university for at least two years, and have taken all fundamental courses. This means they've had classes dedicated to reading, writing, and literature analysis, and yet!

There are sentences I have to read over and over again to discern intent. Circular arguments that offer no actual substance. Errors in spelling and capitalization that spellcheck should've flagged.

At a glance, it's easy to trace this issue back to two things:

The state of education in the United States is abhorrent. Instructors are not paid enough, so schools-- particularly public schools-- take whatever instructors they can find.

COVID. The two year long gap in education, especially in high school, left many students struggling to keep up.

But I think there's a third culprit-- something I mentioned earlier in this post. A lack of computer literacy.

This subject has been covered extensively by multiple news outlets like the Washington Post and Raconteur, but as someone seeing it firsthand I wanted to add my voice to the rising chorus of concerned educators begging you to pay attention.

As the interface we use to engage with technology becomes more user friendly, the knowledge we need to access our files, photos, programs, & data becomes less and less important. Why do I need to know about directories if I can search my files in Windows (are you searching in Windows? Are you sure? Do you know what that bar you're typing into is part of? Where it's looking)? Maybe you don't have any files on your computer at all-- maybe they're on the cloud through OneDrive, or backed up through Google. Some of you reading this may know exactly where and how your files are stored. Many of you probably don't, and that's okay. For most people, being able to access a file in as short a time as possible is what they prioritize.

The problem is, when you as a consumer are only using a tool, you are intrinsically limited by the functions that tool is advertised to have. Worse yet, when the tool fails or is insufficient for what you need, you have no way of working outside of that tool. You'll need to consult an expert, which is usually expensive.

When you as a consumer understand a tool, your options are limitless. You can break it apart and put it back together in just the way you like, or you can identify what parts of the tool you need and search for more accessible or affordable options that focus more on your specific use-case.

The problem-- and to be clear, I do not blame Gen Z & Gen Alpha for what I'm about to outline-- is that this user-friendly interface has fostered a culture that no longer troubleshoots. If something on the computer doesn't work well, it's the computer's fault. It's UI should be more intuitive, and it it's not operating as expected, it's broken. What I'm seeing more and more of is that if something's broken, students stop there. They believe there's nothing they can do. They don't actively seek out solutions, they don't take to Google, they don't hop on Reddit to ask around; they just... stop. The gap in knowledge between where they stand and where they need to be to begin troubleshooting seems to wide and inaccessible (because the fundamental structure of files/directories is unknown to many) that they don't begin.

This isn't demonstrative of a lack of critical thinking, but without the drive to troubleshoot the number of opportunities to develop those critical thinking skills are greatly diminished. How do you communicate an issue to someone online? How do look for specific information? How do you determine whether that information is specifically helpful to you? If it isn't, what part of it is? This process fosters so many skills that I believe are at least partially linked to the ability to read and write effectively, and for so many of my students it feels like a complete non-starter.

We need basic computer classes back in schools. We need typing classes, we need digital media classes, we need classes that talk about computers outside of learning to code. Students need every opportunity to develop critical thinking skills and the ability to self-reflect & self correct, and in an age of misinformation & portable technology, it's more important now than ever.

[sophrosynesworld]

Just Friends?

actor!Katsuki x actress!Reader

The studio lights cast a warm glow over the set as the host welcomes everyone back from the commercial break. I stand in the wings, nervously fixing my hair. Katsuki stands beside me, unfazed by the upcoming interview. The audience buzzes with anticipation, eager to hear from us about our latest movie.

"Welcome back to the Midnight Mic, everyone!" Late-night talk show host Hizashi Yamada greets the crowd, his voice bouncing around the room, riling everyone up. "We have a great show lined up for you tonight, so don't leave your seats!" Hizashi walks from center stage over towards his desk, pulling out the chair before directing his attention towards the second camera.

"Tonight, we have some amazing guests. Please join me in welcoming two of the biggest stars on the silver screen, Katsuki Bakugo and his leading lady!"

The applause is deafening, and I can't help but smile. Katsuki gestures for me to walk out first, my heels clicking as I wave to the audience. It's instantly twenty degrees hotter as the stage lights beat down on me. I don’t have to look back to know when Bakugo follows; the crowd’s excitement peaks as he steps out, giving a casual nod, his usual confident demeanor softened by a playful smirk. He glances at me as we sit, leaning over to adjust my dress.

"It's great to have you both here," Hizashi begins, turning towards us. "You two have been the talk of the town with your new film. How's the stardom feel?"

Katsuki leans back in his chair, clearly relaxed. "It's been a wild ride," he admits, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Most of us have done fine with the publicity. My co-star, on the other hand," he jokes, nodding towards me, "couldn't handle the heat at first."

I laugh, covering my red cheeks before nudging him playfully. "Yeah, this is just my first major hit. I wasn't used to the more persistent fans. This has been a wonderful experience though. The entire crew has really bonded over the last twenty weeks.

Our host raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "You seem to have a great dynamic, both on and off screen. What's it like working together?"

I glance at Katsuki, who gives me a look that says, "Go ahead." I smile and turn back towards Hizashi. "It's honestly been amazing. I don’t think Katsuki liked me very much in the beginning—"

“I didn’t.”

"—but I finally wore him down enough to tolerate me." I laugh, swatting his arm away while crossing my legs. "He’ll never admit it, but we clicked right away. It'll inflate his ego, but he's won three Oscars for a reason." I laugh lightly, smiling at the memories.

Katsuki grins, crossing his arms. "She’s being modest. I've won 4." The crowd laughs as he changes the conversation. "Honestly, she's the best costar I've had in a while. She's going to kill me during the nominations this year. I mean, there was this one scene where she just—"

"Oh, no, not this story," I interject, laughing.

He chuckles, ignoring my protests. "We're filming this one scene with all these seasoned professionals, folks who have been in this business for decades." He pauses, looking at me. "They had to rewrite the first version of the scene because her acting was so horrifyingly raw and realistic that it traumatized the crew. They thought she was actually dying."

Our host leans in, clearly shocked. "Are you going to tell us more? You can't leave us with crumbs!"

Katsuki shakes his head, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. "Definitely not. You'll have to see it in theaters to find out."

I shake my head sheepishly. "I don't even know if they left it in or not. They told me to act, so I did."

"This is why I love you guys. You're always so honest about your lives." Hizashi grins. Now, I hate to gossip, but there's been a lot of questions about your off-screen relationship. Care to clear up the rumors?"

Katsuki and I exchange a knowing look, a silent agreement passing between us. I decide to answer, leaning forward slightly. "We have a really close friendship. We're both super passionate about our work and love what we do, which makes working together even better. We definitely have a flirty friendship, but it's all in good fun."

Katsuki nods, his expression softening. "Yeah, she's great. We just get each other, you know? It's easy to be around her, whether we're on set or just hanging out."

Hizashi smiles, clearly enjoying our interview. "Well, it's clear that you two have a special connection. Before we go, is there anything you'd like to say to your fans?"

I turn to the camera, feeling a wave of gratitude. "Just a huge thank you to all the fans for their amazing support. This entire experience has been mind-blowing, and I can't wait for everyone to see it. We hope you love it as much as we do."

Katsuki chimes in with a grin. "Yeah, thanks for sticking with us, extras. Our new movie comes out in theaters September 22nd!"

The audience laughs and claps, clearly enjoying their money spent. Hizashi wraps up our segment, and as the band leads us to commercial, Katsuki leans over, nudging me gently. "You did great," he murmurs, a genuine smile on his face.

I grin back at him. "You weren't too bad yourself," I tease, standing up and heading back towards the green room, waving goodbye to some of our fans in the audience.

Katsuki is quick to follow, his steps only a few paces behind mine, practically pushing my bodyguard out of the way. I open the door and sit down on the oversized couch. Katsuki follows my lead, plopping himself close to me. His large hands almost instantly wrap around me, lifting me up and pulling me into his chest. I straddle him, our bodies dangerously close together.

"Just friends?" Suki whispers, his lips grazing mine as he looks at me.

"Just friends," I reply, the words soft and delicate as my freshly polished fingers wrap around the fabric of his shirt, closing the distance between us.

Authors Note: I'm obsessed with this idea and could probably write 200 of these little one shots.

[romancherry]

Wheels & Whiskey

Chapter 2: A Bold Move

pairings ➝ biker!joel x doctor!reader

summary ➝ finally catching you all alone, joel takes this opportunity to approach you.

warnings ➝ a little bit of SMUT, innapropriate touching in public, descriptions of sexual desires, explicit language, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT

word count ➝ ~700

author's note ➝ hello! writing a quick part 2 to this story before exam season. i will get right back to it as soon as i'm free. hopefully i'll have enough inspiration. kisses!

As you settled into the familiar hum of the bar, Maria's curiosity seemed to only grow with every passing moment. "So, come on," she pressed, her eyes shifting to Joel. "What's the deal with you two?"

"He's just... polite." You gave a small shrug.

Maria wasn't buying it. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Polite? Really? Sweetheart, that man doesn't do polite. He wants you. And you're acting like you don't notice."

"I've noticed. Doesn't mean I'm interested."

"Look, I get it," she said, her voice quieter now. "But don't tell me you've never thought about just... letting go. Just once. Take him to bed, see what happens. It's just one night, right? No strings. Let loose for once."

"Maria, I—"

"No, really," she insisted, her voice smooth and convincing. "You've seen the way he looks at you. You know he's not gonna give up anytime soon."

You felt a tight knot form in your chest. Joel never made his intentions a secret. You couldn't deny the chemistry — something electric that buzzed inside you every time he stepped into your line of sight.

Letting out a breath, you shrugged. "Fine, I'll give him a chance. Let's just enjoy the night, alright?" You gestured toward the dance floor where the crowd was getting more lively.

Maria shot you a wink and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the center of the room. You danced, laughed, and let yourself get lost in the moment, trying to forget the quiet pull Joel Miller had on you.

The night wore on, and the room became a blur of music, laughter and flashing lights. Maria, emboldened by the drinks she'd knocked back, wasn't one to shy away from new adventures. She spotted a handsome man across the room, his curly dark hair falling just so. His easy confidence made him impossible to ignore. Maria didn't need any further encouragement; with a wink at you, she made her way over to him, dragging him to the dance floor with a flirtatious laugh.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. You needed a moment to breathe, to drink some water and gather yourself after the whirlwind of dancing and loud music. You slipped away to the bar, hoping the quiet space would help clear your head.

But as you leaned against the counter, the stool beside you creaked. You didn't need to look up to know who had joined you. Joel's presence was unmistakable.

"Everythin' all right, sweetheart?" Joel's voice rumbled beside you. He settled onto the stool next to you, the familiar scent of leather wafting around him.

You glanced over at him, but didn't say anything at first. He had that look in his eyes — the same one that made your pulse quicken and your thoughts scatter. You should've been annoyed at how persistent he was, but instead, you found yourself leaning in slightly as if his presence commanded you to.

Joel's eyes softened, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "You know, you really should be enjoying the night more." His voice dropped lower, leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath near your ear. "Your friend out there is livin' her life, while you're too busy tryin' to play it safe."

You didn't respond immediately. His words were a challenge, one he knew you will try to sidestep.

"Good for her." You simply said.

You felt his hand graze against the small of your back. It moved slowly, posessively, and the warmth of his palm sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned in even closer, his mouth near your ear now, voice smooth and teasing.

"You ain't foolin' me, sweetheart. You got that look in your eyes — the one that says you wanna see how far I can take you. And I'm damn sure you're curious."

The air between you thickened, and the proximity of his body made it hard to think clearly. Just as you were about to turn your head, to push back, his other hand slid lower, barely grazing the inside of your thigh.

It was slow, deliberate, and it sent a rush of head straight down your core. His fingers traced along the bare, soft skin, ocasionally lifting the edge of your dress higher, as if testing the boundaries of your composure.

"Joel..."

"Tell me, Doc." Joel interrupted. "What's it gonna take to make you stop pretendin' you ain't interested?"

You felt his fingers linger on your thigh, pressing just a little more firmly as his hand slowly slid upwards. His touch was a claim, an unspoken challenge, and it sent your pulse racing.

You thought about pushing him away, about asserting control, but in the back of your mind, you knew you wanted this — you wanted him to take whatever he wants from you. What he's been yearning and buzzing you for ever since you moved into town.

But you didn't say anything. Your heart hammered in your chest, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling within you.

Joel's lips brushed against your ear once more. "I can't be the only one who feels this, can I?" he whispered, his hand moving just slightly higher, lifting your dress up with him. He couldn't give a goddamn about the lack of privacy.

Joel's fingers remained still for a moment, as if giving you the time to pull away if you chose to. The pressure from his touch lingered, warm and deliberate, leaving you caught in the tension of the moment. The music around you seemed to fade, leaving only the heat between you two, and for a second, it was as if the rest of the bar didn't exist.

You turned your head slightly, enough to meet his eyes. "We should stop."

The confident words which came out of your mouth get betrayed by the treacherous gloss in your eyes; blow out pupils, begging him for more. And he sees right through the mirrors of your soul.

You saw the smirk curling on his lips — confident, patient, like he knew exactly what he was doing. There was no rush in his movements.

"Still pretendin', huh?"

As his hand finally moved again, his fingers gently traced the outline of your clothed pussy. One, sweet stroke from the top of your clit to the bottom of your aching hole.

"I don't bite, y'know," he teased, his lips brushing against your earlobe now. "Unless you want me to."

He didn't give you any chance to speak as he pressed a single finger right on the center of your clit, tightening the little bundle of nerves under his pressure. He slowly started drawing small circles around it, and suddenly, it was too difficult to breathe.

"Joel, this... This is unprofessional." You felt your breath catch in your throat, unsure if you were going to break or keep holding yourself together. His touch was steady, sure of itself, and there was something about the way he was looking at you — his eyes dark and focused — that made it hard to deny how badly you wanted him to keep going.

"Mmm, I promise not to tell anyone, sweetheart. Cross my heart."

You slowly placed a hand on top of his wrist, not knowing whether you should stop him or guide his movements lower.

Now Joel was starting to grow irritated a bit. He loved the game of cat and mouse you were playing, but now that he won, he desperately needed the prize, or he'd go insane.

It was getting impossible to breathe — the warmth was making his hair stick to his dampened forehead, his cock straining against his jeans, his balls tightening so fucking bad that if he didn't witness you bent over in the next five minutes he was going to punch someone.

He was really affected by the situation, even more than you. He needed to be really careful with this one, because he couldn't afford to lose another chance with you again. He's been begging, praying. He can't scare you away.

He pulls his fingers away from your panties, the abrupt shift almost making you reach back for his hand and force it down between your legs again.

"Y'know, Doc. How 'bout we go somewhere else quiet, hm? No distractions. No interruptions. Just us. Let's talk."

His words hung in the air, laced with the weight of what he was offering. The choice was simple: give in and take the risk — refuse and forever regret.

You looked back at Maria, checking to see how she was doing. Anything, to distract you. You needed more time to think.

Joel put pressure on your lower back, guiding your attention back to him. "She's fine, don't you worry. My brother's takin' real good care of her."

"If we leave, are we really gonna... talk?" You ask genuinely, and the way you looked up at him, so innocent, anxious and sweet, made Joel's cock twitch in his pants.

Fuck, he'll talk. While pumping you full of his cum with one hand tugging on your hair and the other holding you tight by the waist, but he'll talk. Give you all the answers you want.

"Yes, sweetheart. Promise. Jus' wanna get things straight between us."

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. In the back of your mind, you know you shouldn't trust him. You know this is part of his plan to lure you in and seduce you until you finally break; fall apart.

But the question is, will he be there to catch you?

Your mind figures out the answer to that question on its own. No matter the amount of times he flirted with you openly, he never made you feel awkward or humiliated. Always respected, even when he practically spoke filth in your ear.

Poor silly doctor, if only you knew just how mad he is for you. Then you wouldn't be second guessing yourself about trusting him.

"Just for a little bit," you whispered, as if testing the waters, as if giving yourself permission to go along with it.

Joel's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "That's all I need."

[chrlvctius]

clandestine meetings

Alexia putellas x williamson reader!!

It was late afternoon, probably around 5 p.m., and the sun was setting. It was October, the fall season. The air smelled like leaves, almost like pumpkin. I was so focused on people walking down from the rooftop that I didn't notice someone joining me.

I didn't have to turn to see who it was since I knew who it was right away. Just by her hair, her height, and the vibes she radiates. I couldn't be wrong, I knew it was her. Memorising those small details about her makes me hate her because I can't seem to get over her.

She moved closer to me, leaving a small distance between us. She took out a cigarette, lit it, and went on about her business while I was at a loss for what to do beside her. I don't think starting a conversation with her would help either, so I just stood quietly, admiring the view and watching the sun set as the wind blew through my hair.

There's something about that comfortable silence. We didn't have to say anything to one other or anything like that. Or, if we did talk. We didn't have to worry about running out of topics or being awkward since simply being with her in silence is plenty; her presence is enough. Being together felt like home; it made us feel complete.

Leaning over the rail, I turned my head to check on her, and she was as lovely as ever. She was always beautiful. She was the first person who caught my attention when I moved to Barcelona. I've kept an eye on her ever since.

She continued smoking and admiring the view, while I got lost staring at her. She sighed and smiled, "You know I can see you staring, right?" she asked, turning to face me.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I just chuckled and shrugged it off.

She turned to face me, tossed her cigarette in the trash can, and moved closer to me.

"Why did you stop smoking?" I asked as she approached me.

"I don't want you to smell like smoke, plus i don't think you like it when people smoke near you" she went on to say

"That's very thoughtful of you, ale," I comment, laughing at her.

She was taken aback for a moment because she had never heard me call her by her nickname. It was my first time addressing her as such. I usually refer to her as "alexia" or "cap"

She paused for a bit before clearing her throat, "Is your sister okay?"

she said, seeming nervous

She seems to have gathered up enough courage to ask that question. Leah and Alexia weren't on the best of terms, so hearing her ask this makes my heart melt.

"She'll be fine; I'll be back home once the breaks come," I reassured her.

"I know she was against you going to Barcelona," she said as she drew closer to me than she had ever been.

"Um, yeah. She was," I answered nervously, hoping to keep it hidden because she was closer than ever right now.

"I'm pretty sure you know why she didn't want you to come here, right?" she asked, with a slight smirk on her face. She was clearly having a good time.

"Of course," I answer, trying to cover up my nervousness. Having her so near to me makes my knees shaky, like jello. Her stares make my knees wobble.

"She didn't want me coming here because she'll be alone, and we've never been separated this long, it'll be new to her, to me as well," I reply, looking wherever I can to avoid facing her because I know it'll be a dead end for me if I do.

"Come on, that's not all of it, isn't it?" she nudged me

"I'm not blind, I know the main reason why williamson doesn't want you to come here is because of me" she said with that annoying smirk on her face that I desperately wanted to erase

I just nodded and tucked my lips because she got it right

"What does she say about me? I bet she told you I was bad influence" she said and laughed

“You should surely take your older sister's advice, don't you think?"

"Like the good girl you are," she said, smirking.

We fell silent and let the breeze wash over us.

She drew nearer as I walked toward the doorway, placing both of her arms on either side of the rail to enclose me.

"Do you think I'm a bad influence? Do you agree with your sister?"

I look at her and see her eyes piercing at me, green with a tint of brown, she looked breathtaking. I felt like I could drown in her eyes.

"I don't think you are," I responded, swallowing hard.

"I'm your sister's rival, and yet you still stick with me?"

"I don't think you'd like it if I ignored you, though," I muttered, glancing down because just looking at her makes me want to pass out.

She tilted her head in such a way that it gave me butterflies. Lord, when will this end?

"Why so?" she inquired, completely teasing me.

"Would you like me to ignore you for the entire season, ale?" I said back.

She pouted at me, seeming to think about what she was about to say.

"Hmm, no. It would make me sad," she teased, smiling.

"Sad, why?" I inquired, still smiling.

"Because if I were to ignore you, that would make your sister feel relieved that I'm not circling you. I want her to be mad at me and for her to feel annoyed because it makes me happy." She grinned and moved closer to me.

"You're really messed up in the head, ale," I joke, pushing more against the rail because if I don't, you know what would happen.

"I want her to be annoyed, I want her to be angry at me, I want her to feel all the emotions," she said as she locked her gaze on mine. Her eyes seemed to want to express more, as if there was more to what she said.

"Which is why i won't be leaving you"

She whispered and stared at me for what seemed like hours. She was just staring at me, as if she was trying to memorise my face. I felt very vulnerable.

"Is that the only reason you don't want me to ignore you?" I asked, leaning closer to accept her challenge.

"Do you think there's something more?" she replied, edging closer to me until our faces were almost touching.

"I know there is"

I'm so sorry for leaving u w a cliffhanger 😭😭 i promise you there is a part 2! THERE WILL BE A PART 2 👹👹

Dm me if u wanna know some bits of the next part 😎