#oh wow I really do look high

[gallopinggallifreyans]

con pics starting with the night before (my hair is in a t shirt)

[alongtidesoflight]

so here's my honest thoughts on dragon age: the veilguard, after ~40 hours of playing. i finished the main quest after having finished all companion quests and major faction quests. just to clear up what content i saw, i played as an elven transmasc rook who is a member of the lords of fortune. he romanced lucanis (although after finishing the game i'm now leaning towards taash). i don't know what's happening in playthroughs that have a different race, gender identity, romance or faction going on.

full spoilers ahead, i mean it. don't read further if you want to avoid them. i don't want complaining about it in my asks.

oh and also, if you're worried because of a few negative reviews online i can comfort you by saying don't give a fuck about a certain big name youtuber who is very much tied to bethesda franchises giving this a negative review. i'll explain why.

i'm starting off with the things i liked

the game looks really pretty. i was worried it wouldn't feel like thedas anymore (with them trying to "focus on northern thedas only" i thought they'd make a clear cut in environmental design. they do and they don't. it's complicated. i'll elaborate on it when talking about the negative stuff). anyway it does. minrathous feels like kirkwall. treviso enchanted me like the winter palace did. the hossberg wetlands reminded me of the hinterlands and a couple other inquisition maps. arlathan looked like... arlathan. the crossroads were different, but familiar. overall i like the way it looks and feels. it's thedas, with a twist. it's a good one, and gives everything a solid but unique feel.

combat is top tier. if you're a hardcore dragon age player you WILL miss the tactical aspect of it for a bit, but i promise you, once you're used to the way the combat works, you will be lapping that shit up. and once you get to ability combos you'll mourn the control you used to have over your companions in battle a bit less

the MAIN quest and its story. i expected worse, way worse. and for a while the game even had me tricked (harr harr you'll get it in a second) it is Really That Much Worse. but holy shit was it good. i walked away satisfied ngl.

your choices have SOLID weight. there's consequences, good AND bad. i got minrathous blighted, ruled over by venatori, and the leader of the shadow dragons ultimately died because of my decisions. i made those at the beginning and throughout the game. he died at the end. DAVRIN died because i didn't expect what i was saying to have that much weight. i thought i was in the clear. he had hero status. well turns out, your choices can still get your companions killed even if you do everything right. i fucking love him. he shouldn't have made that sacrifice just because i told him to do everything it takes once.

the inquisitor, morrigan and dorian being there, surprisingly. there's also negatives to this though, see below.

speaking of companions dying and the inquisitor playing a bigger role: the final quest feels like me2's suicide mission. i was blown away by it and the fact that i got to see the results of all my efforts playing out in front of me.

bioware are NOT trying to redeem solas. they love him as a character yes, but i wasn't forced to see any good in him. he betrays you. he fucked my rook over twice. he fucked him over right back, for good this time (the veil wasn't torn down, i anchored it by binding him to it, he's doomed to uphold it). but solas really lives up to his name as the trickster elven god. rip to all the people who grew really attached to him over the years.

varric died. if you like him that's probably as hard reading it as it was watching it. varric died and the game lies about it until the very end. when the realisation hits, it hurts. but in the very best way.

the amount of care they put into gender expression and trans identities this time around. (i'll add onto this with negative points as well too).

rook feels very much ingrained in the world of thedas. he doesn't ask questions that expose the player to lore through dialogue as if he's stepped foot into thedas for the first time. those conversations feel very solid and good. i hope other faction players got as much joy out of this as i did.

and the things i didn't like and boy there's a lot unfortunately

the music. let's just get that out of the way holy shit. it doesn't feel like it belongs in this universe. it gets so incredibly sci-fi-y at times you'd think it's taken straight from mass effect andromeda. there's not a single song unique to veilguard that i really enjoyed. it broke my immersion, real bad. hearing a busker play the tavern songs from inquisition on a lute right after i killed some venatori with wobbly bass songs playing in the background is just odd. weird tonal shift. don't like it. it's made for people who like flashy light-weight cinema.

tevinter nights is required reading. the podcasts are required listening exercises. the game is so fast paced, especially at the start, that there's no time to introduce you to characters and how much weight their names carry in-game. i would not have known who half these people are if i hadn't skimmed over tevinter nights. i'd care even less about them than i already did. there is no time to get properly attached to them. people will act as if you're talking to a legend personified and you'll be thinking man goddamn which chapter of tevinter night were they in again and what did they do???

there's a weird mismatch with the animations. you'll have beautifully fluid ones, like emmrich casting spells. and then you'll have rook's face animating in the most unnatural manner that's sorta reminiscent of mass effect andromeda's "my face is tired" addison, when their emotions SHOULD be landing with the player rn instead.

i'm not vibing with the art style. sometimes it works. most of the time it doesn't. at points i felt like i was watching tangled.

that also brings me to some of the dialogue. same issue. i am watching frozen. i am watching tangled. someone on the writer's team really likes the adorkable trope. bellara is its victim.

for all the talk about identity, bioware sure doesn't like theirs. the grey warden armor got a redesign again and it just makes them look like a generic army. i hate it lol

in general, i don't like the armor design. the wardrobe/appearances system is fine, but it's just not helping if all the armors are just... kinda bland or downight bad looking? and don't get me started on the lords of fortune armor. that is orientalism personified.

the world states should have been carried over, full stop. i know they said they didn't because they want to separate what happens in the north from what happens in the south, which... i could have lived with that. but the inquisitor sends you letters that keep you up to date on... the south of thedas. you learn that there's a blight again, that people are standing strong but it's difficult, denerim's fallen, the rulers are taking care of it, orlais is fighting and they're successful for a while, etc etc. what's good bioware. i thought we don't care about the south this time around. why are you feeding me so much boring generic information. if you're not gonna show any of it and just write letters, then carrying the world state over should not have been an issue. i have a game dev background. those few lines of code would not have broken your budget or pushed your engine's limits. fuck right off.

this gripe of mine carries over to all the cameos. as a lord of fortune you have to deal with isabela a lot. it's fun. i missed her. you get to go drinking with her and taash and bellara! also my hawke romanced her. she's not mentioned once. they had the opportunity to put a sentence or two about her in there with not a lot of effort, trust me.

when varric dies, all she has is a single line about it. for gold, for fortune, for varric. she only says it if you interact with her on your way to the final push. that's not mandatory.

morrigan is there. kieran isn't. the old god soul that mythal and then solas absorbed? who cares at this point, the gods are dead now and solas is locked away for eternity. i suppose? why is morrigan there. she feels unneeded. i wish they'd just left her down south, at least that way i wouldn't have had to witness her god awful redesign.

dorian at least feels as if he belongs in this story. the shadow dragons are a crucial part to protecting minrathous. he's also weirdly underutilised. isabela and morrigan had more lines than him in my playthrough.

on the topic of romance: bro that was underwhelming. no, genuinely. you know when romance picked up a bit? after the point of no return. i heard maybe two lines of companion banter about it before that. maybe i missed something which i honestly doubt, but romance did not play much of a role in lucanis's storyline. i saved his grandmother as he wished me to (and if you read tevinter nights you know she was rather abusive and their relationship not the healthiest) and told him to focus on his family. a reunified family my rook wasn't even introduced to as a partner at the end of all that.

really, do not buy this game if you're only in it for the romances. others might be better, lucanis's basically gave me nothing. except for an outing (the second coffee date i had with him, it was getting repetitive) all of it played out once i committed to the final quest. the sex scene was a fade to black. annoyingly right after davrin died. if you're looking for well paced and good spice, pick up something else. the sweet talk and the final goodbye were nice though.

for all the good the ever-presence of gender identity does, it is brought up in such a disruptive manner too. it doesn't even play out naturally if you CHOOSE the lines that are meant to be said. hearing the words trans and non-binary in this setting doesn't feel right, and i'm saying this as a trans guy. i think it could have been handled more gracefully. the amount of times my rook went "i'm a MAN" as if he's about to start drumming on his chest and roaring any second now got super nerve-grating. "i'm so glad you're into me... the me who is trans. remember?" just. tell me one trans person who'd talk like that to a person they've grown close with and are trying to romance. this game doesn't handle sexuality well, so all this hey my body might not look like the way you're expecting it to look talk amounts to nothing anyway. i feel about this the way i feel about krem: this is partial exposition to trans experiences... packaged up for cis consumption. the ONLY exception to that is interacting with taash. holy shit was all of that heartwarming and bro did it feel good and natural to talk to them about theirs and rook's gender.

rivain and nevarra are new locations added by veilguard. they're also incredibly underwhelming, small and constricted maps. rivain is a coastline with a few ruins. the hall of valor is a partial ruin nestled into a cave on a beach, with a fighting pit. isabela is there in her skimpy outfit commentating your pit fights. that's it. i'm sorry if you were looking for a bustling pirate cove or whatever. you're not gonna get it. the nevarran crypts btw are a long ass dungeon crawl. that's it.

speaking of maps. i thought people were being dramatic when they said you're gonna be fighting the same enemies on them again and again. i thought they were figure of speeching it. they're not. you WILL fight the same amount of enemies. in the same spot. every time you reload the map. best to stay on a map and clear out the enemies and do as much questing on that map as you can before leaving, because you WILL have to do it all over again once you return.

the three choices i made for my inquisitor didn't matter lol she didn't have to face solas and therefore couldn't stop him at any cost as she had sworn (maybe because my rook tricked solas into binding himself to the veil, there was also an option to fight him. would she have stepped in? who knows). blackwall wasn't mentioned. and either her using a small amount of her forces in the final fight was the reason the civilians of minrathous fared so well..... or it just didn't matter. ultimately i think she had very little impact on anything

[skitskatdacat63]

This is my personal crossover event of the century

[icewindandboringhorror]

just a few little bits from the past few days

[confinesofmy]

i hate hanging out with kids because of the way people treat kids and the social rules surrounding speaking out when you don't like how a kid is being treated. like, if you're hanging out with a group of adults and one of the adults is cruel to another, there are many ways to say, "hey, don't treat them like that." or you can even ignore that person and tell the person who was wronged, "i can't believe they were so cruel to you." but with kids you're really not supposed to say anything at all unless it's your kid. and it's crazy because the stakes are so much higher. an adult being treated cruelly has so much more agency. they can leave, they can speak up and probably be listened to, they can be cruel back and not immediately be vilified. a kid usually just has to endure it. and judging by personal experience they don't even internalise it as "that person is cruel" it's more like "this is normal treatment."

[yoshistory]

the perspective of looking at new jersey apartments again makes me glad im living where im at now, honestly ... ^^ ''

[fujouppy]

okay wah oh i remembered the Outfit Interest. man i need to find more fashion youtubers that dont suck

[ciderjacks]

not to make light of a pretty horrific fate but oceangate kind of sounds like something Jordan Peele would write and the fact that it’s a real thing that actually happened is crazy

[stonesandswords]

.

[narutomaki]

my dumb ass really is just sitting here like and this is my new DAO OC who is in love with 4 of their companions and sleeps with them all freely and its wierd at first but Sten makes a joke at one point that has Alistair cackling and of course Leliana has to hear this and Zevran is snickering from across the fire Morrrigan and Wynne share their one (1) commiserating look per night Oghren doesn't exist Shale is there it's perfect

*can't play the game for real even with 0 mods*

my life is ruined my crops are withered my grain stores poisoned my

edit: I REACHED THE TAG LIMIT ON THSI POST IM SO SORRY LMAO

[gonzodangerfeels]

Halo from behind 26

Killamajaro

[dyketennant]

idk i think i should start masking again 🤠 (i mean the autism i already wear a face mask)

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, dubcon, bathroom sex, bullying, overall just really filthy smut, virgin insert, virginity loss, somewhat dom reader, somewhat bully reader, somewhat yandere reader

♡ FEM reader

You look like one of those girls that never smiles. Like, if he were to take that empty seat next to you in the lecture hall, you’d scowl with stink eyes and then proceed to fully ignore him. Yeah, a real bitch. That's what you look like—scary. He bets all your socials are filled with the same picture—the same deadpanned pouty face over and over, every single one with hundreds of likes and comments saying “Wow, babe!” followed by a dozen emojis from besties and horny admirers. Selfies in the mirror, showing off skin in your tight tops and short skirts—similar to the outfit you’re wearing now. Captions saying, “You can look, but you could never touch.” Yeah, he bets you’re a real attention whore. And the worst part is that you’re not even overselling, either. You’re gorgeous—even with that sour look on your face, he’d pay cold, hard-earned cash in exchange for a pair of your worn panties.

Yeah, there’s no way he’d dare sit next to you. He’s already sweating bullets just thinking about it. Even though you’re one in a million similar girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day, he's still one in a million loser incels who would do anything for it. And that’s the cold reality.

Even if he’d like to get just a whiff of your sweet perfume, he can’t. The status quo forbids it. He’s afraid the jocks will smell fresh blood in the water the moment he does, then swarm him in a matter of seconds, circling before tearing him to shreds. They’d beat him to a pulp in the bathroom, smash his head in over the sink—piss in the toilet, then flush it down with his bloodied face—and he’d have to walk reeking of it all the way home.

So, no—he really can’t sit next to you. 

But no other seats are available, and the lecture is starting soon… 

Why did absolutely everyone decide to show up today?

Oh fuck it, this isn’t high school. College bullies surely don’t bother with petty cases like this, right? They’re all about their frat initiations and rivalries to have enough spare time to beat him up over improper seating. Oh, but what if you’re one of their girlfriends—you’ll tell on him, and then he’ll definitely be beaten up, maybe even killed.

No. He’s overthinking—like always. No one is that mean. If you don’t like him sitting there, you’ll just tell him. And he’ll move. No harm done. Right? He’s not sitting in the stairwell when there’s a perfectly good and empty seat right there, right? Is he?

Yes. Yes, he is. 

“Hey, if you’re looking for a seat, this one’s empty,” a sweet voice calls out over his inner monologue, making him clutch the strap of his bookbag tighter with a flinch of his entire rigid body—his eyes peeled as he looked around to try and find the source of the sound even though he knew where it had come from. It’s as if the possibility of your voice sounding like anything aside from a she-demon was out of the question. But no, it is you. 

But there’s no way you’re talking to him, so he looks around again—there must be someone else in need of the seat aside from him. But then, why are you looking right at him? Are you pulling some type of prank? Are you really that cruel? You’re probably filming him or something—live-streaming—the chat’s blaring with ew, what a creep and omg, uggo alert right about now. He should just go home before the jocks, along with the rest of the internet, can get him.

“Are you okay?” you ask—but no, he must be hearing you wrong—there’s just no way, even though you’re looking right at him. “I think it’s starting soon—you should probably sit.”

It’s as if his fight or flight response is broken because he does the exact opposite of either—as if on autopilot, sitting down in a rush against his better judgment.

The lecture starts shortly, solidifying his choice, but he can’t pay attention. No, he needs to keep his guard up. Any second now, someone’s going to do a drive-by and throw a milkshake at him or something vile of the like, and you’ll have filmed it all even though he can’t spot you holding a phone—and then the entire hall would burst into laughter at his expense.

“Pst—” A soft whisper comes from next to him, from between the gloss of your pretty lips. You smell like candy and fruit, and it makes his gut tighten—both from anxiety and something more shameful. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a pen I could borrow? Mine’s all out’a ink.”

You give him an awkward smile, and he very nearly runs away. But no, he’s glued to the seat—with nervously wrecked hands shaking as he bends for his bag and unzips it, reaching for his pencil case painfully slow as if disarming some type of bomb. Redoing the same when he opens the case and rummages for a viable pen he could offer.

When he hands it to you, he’s almost sure you plan to stab him with it. But you do no such thing.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You cheer instead, beaming with a much brighter smile than before. “I owe you!”

His ears ring with your praise. Blushing beat red as he rips away from your gaze��still unable to focus on what the professor is preaching—not when from out of the corner of his eye, he can see you sucking on his pen like a lollypop—or something else not so innocent.

Oh, he’d been so wrong.

So, so, so very wrong.

You do smile. You smile a lot, actually. You just have one of those faces that rests bitchy. But still, bubbly airhead or not, a girl like you still shouldn't be seen with a loser like him. It’s social suicide. And still, you’re on your knees before him in a dirty little bathroom stall—the same dirty bathroom stall he feared getting a swirlie, scraping the walls with his nails to try and thwart his assailants—only, now clutching the walls for a much different reason, holding on for his mortal soul as you seek to suck it out of his fat throbbing cock.

You want to repay him—you’d said—for the pencil. He hadn't understood why you’d winked at him before you’d all but dragged him off and flung him inside the men’s bathroom, having his very life flash before his eyes.

You both make the sloppiest sounds as you make an utter mess on and of him, making him cry on all fronts—cock weeping with thick pearly beads of pre while his eyes well up with tears down his flushed face, all sweaty with panic and bliss. 

The moans springing from his chest are virginal and raw and sweet music to your ears, panting for you like a puppy—you’re sure they can hear him out in the hallway when passing by. One of his hands clasps itself on top of his mouth, holding tightly to keep it all within—eyes shut and brows cinched. And yet, he makes no effort to shove you off—hips left jerking and jittering in response to your refined technique where you take him deeply, all the way down to the base, hallowing your cheeks, throttling him with your throat as your tongue wipes his creamy slit clean.

It’s painfully clear he’s never experienced anything like it, but that’s what turns you on the most. Sick as you are, you could suck him dry and savor every drop of him, knowing you’re the first ever to get a taste. But no, by now, your pussy’s so soaked you feel yourself dripping past the soggy lace of your panties, running down your soft thighs in waste.

He’s misty-eyed when you pull off with an ever-cruel pop—a sick mix of relief and sorrow warping his chest, feeling conflicted by the pulse making him think he’s on the verge of a heart attack if you continue—and another strumming his cock, making him think he’s going to keel over and die if you leave him unfinished.

Even so, he’s in a state of complete shell shock as you mount him on top of the toilet seat he’s melting against. Chest heaving, watching you as you lift your skirt up and peal your slick underwear to the side for him to lay his bleary swiveled eyes on your bared and dripping pussy.

“I love nice guys like you—” you moan, pouring the honeyed words down his throat as you ghost his parted lips with your spit-slicked ones, straddling his lap and shimmying ever closer until your tits squish against his chest. “They make me so wet, I lose all self-control.” 

He gulps in your shadow, looking up at you for mercy—cock twitching painfully between your thighs as your wrap your hand around his base real snug, giving him a nice tug as you line him up with your needy heat—making him all but squeal beneath you.

Your other hand makes its way into his hair, braiding your fingers within the locks to hold him steady—gently pulling his head back while leering down at him like caught prey. Playing with him just so, teasing him with your words, all in your sultry voice, making his head spin hot with a fever, “You’ll be a good boy and fuck me, won’t you? Pretty please?”

His breaths are heavy and wet, coming out shaky with his instant answer, “Y-yes—” all weak in a pathetic whimper that almost has you cum too soon.

“You’re so nice~ thank you,” you croon against his lips, kissing him sloppily with your tongue in his mouth as you shift your hips and start lowering your sopping cunt down upon his seeking length, taking him in with greedy ease, eagerly gripping his soft cockhead like a toy in a claw machine.

“Fhu—fuck—” he stutters under his breath, whinging before planting his teeth into his lip to keep it at bay—feeling like putty beneath you, sweaty and heavy and dumb, eagerly wanting all which you sought to give him—only more flushed at your mean undertones as you play with him like food on a silver platter.

You sling your arms around his neck and push your chest harder against him, moaning all too brazenly, “Oh! Fuck yes—that’s so good,” you sing while slowly taking him in further. “A nice guy with a big bad bully’s dick is the best!” 

He whines in return as his inches get eaten—each devoured one by one until his tip kneads into the mouth of your womb.

Sighing happily, you kiss his cheek and put your lips right at his ear with another wanton whimper, “You fill me up so so good.” Roosting on the size, thighs resting flush against his, feeling all giddy as it stretches you out oh-so-nicely. “Such a good toy-cock for me,” keening at the way it twitches inside you, pulsing in response to your tight walls, clenching it in ways it’s never before felt.

His eyes are already rolling back into his skull once you start lolling your hips—riding him, but keeping him deep at all times—lifting just enough for it to pull out only a little before sinking back down, making it settle into that perfect needy little spot inside you that makes your whole body shiver in delight.

“Mmh,” You suck his ear lobe, releasing it with a soft bite, before smiling down at him and his sweat-pilled expression. Cooing at him, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He can’t even answer with words anymore, only giving a dumb mewl as he nods his head. But, of course, you’re already well aware.

“Mmh—” your eyes gleam with delight, giving his lap a mean ride, leaving him all but breathless, before asking, “D’you like it, virgin boy? ‘You like my pussy? Like the way it milks your chubby cock for your cum?”

He nods again, even more eagerly this time—looking downright pathetic in every sense of the word.

“Do you want to?” you offer to his desperation, feeling as though he’s falling apart at your fingertips, needing you to hold him together. “I’ll let you since you’re such a sweet guy—” you tease while clenching his cock, making it impossible to want anything else no matter the consequence. “In exchange for a favor, of course.”

He couldn’t care less what the favor was—way beyond willing to pay any price you ask of him as he finally makes a move and grabs your hips with a strength you hadn’t thought he had the balls to perform, planting you down firmly and holding you with such need as his hips jitter and stutter—resting his cheek on your shoulder in drool and tears with a lovesick groan leaving him as he fills your pussy up with his creamy spend.

His whole body shakes—spasming in cute little aftershocks as he clutches onto your body, hugging you tightly.

You respond in kind, cuddling him and kissing the top of his head. “That was so warm and filling—what a good boy—you did so well,” you murmur ever-sweetly while petting his head, combing through his sweaty locks with your long glitter-pink nails—keeping your voice saccharine. “Did you enjoy yourself, hm? Your first time cumming in pussy instead of your dirty ol’ sock?”

You pick his face up—cupping his sloppy jaw in both palms—his eyes half-mast and glazed as you nose-kiss him with a smile on your face.

“You loved it, didn’t you? Silly virgin boy…”

Your cunt tingles at the sight of him—wrecked beauty, sweaty and undone. You feel his cock unswell inside you and decide to lift off and release him—letting it flop out and splat on his tummy in a puddle of slick.

“Look,” you fuss, holding his face in direction of it. “You made such a pretty mess—isn’t it lovely?”

Your pussy is left glistening and puffy, still wanting and waiting for its final hurrah. Your breath turns headier and so does your voice, now with a new darkness to it as  you whisper, “Time for that favor, sweet boy.” 

He blinks dumbly, impossibly hopeless, wrapped so tightly around your pinky it’s pitiful. Of course, you take advantage—guiding his head to level with your cunt. 

“Open wide, tongue out flat.”

He obeys wordlessly. And oh god it makes your gut stir viscously—watching his tongue loll free between parted lips.

Your voice flares with bliss at the sight, shy of unhinged, as you giggle breathily, “That’s right—taste the pretty mess you made.”

He’s pushed face-first, trapped between your thighs with his jaw like an open cup beneath you, tonguing the mixed slick from your slit and slurping it all up without shame.

And fuck—it feels so good, you lose even more of your mind while tugging him even closer—all but pulling him off the toilet seat, making him kneel down on the floor instead. And still, he makes no effort to escape, but the opposite—seeking to go deeper into your cunt, crying into you as he laps up every last drop of yours and his arousal—making your thighs quake around him, grinding down against his mouth, onto his eager tongue, having it pet your clit over and over until you also come to the same sudden stumbling halt.

“Yes—yes! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna—it’s coming—”

And there it goes, ripping along your loins, surging from your lower belly. With both your hands tangled harshly in his hair, he’s not going anywhere, lips locked with yours as it starts pouring.

You’re squirting on him—hot and hard—on his tongue, inside his mouth, down his throat, in his belly. You’re squirting on him and he’s drinking it, he realizes—but even so, he isn’t able to stop. Instead, he unwinds his jaw even wider, digs his tongue deeper, and accepts every drop of the warm stream as it drenches his face and splashes down his collar and shoulders, utterly soaking his shirt, making in see-through as it clings to his chest like a second skin.

You’ve closed your eyes and thrown your head back, basking in every last little twitch of your body as you relieve yourself all over his face.

Finally, after a moment, you let go of his hair and step back—feeling refreshed and happy with your work—seeing the poor loser sit before the toilet, all drenched and exhausted with his limp cock spent and messy, looking like a beautiful wreck.

You smile, pulling your panties back in place, and you skirt down again before unlocking the stall and opening the door, only looking back at him for a moment, tapping your nail at a few matching pink scribbles written on the wall. “Here’s my number and address if you wanna have more fun." And then you leave, just like that. "Bye-bye~”

♡ BNHA – Amajiki, Deku, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Yuuta, Choso, Nanami ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kenma ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[tender-rosiey]

Hey I want to request a husband!gojo getting his wisdom teeth pulled out and he is high af from the anesthesia. I just imagine him forgetting everything and starts acting dumb. This would be huge blackmail material for nobara and megumi lol

peacock — gojo satoru x f!reader

as soon as you step into the recovery room, the sight of him almost makes you burst out laughing. satoru is slouched in the chair, limbs draped over the sides, his usual composed demeanor replaced with utter disarray.

his eyes, free of his blindfold, are dazed and unfocused, those brilliant blue irises practically swimming in confusion.

his cheeks are puffed out comically with gauze, and he’s staring up at the ceiling like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

when his eyes eventually find you, they widen dramatically, his entire face lighting up like he’s just seen a miracle.

"oh. my. god," he gasps, his voice muffled by the cotton stuffed in his mouth, but his tone is thick with awe and disbelief. “you’re... you're an angel. a real one.”

you bite your lip, barely managing to stifle the laughter bubbling up. “satoru, it’s me,” you say, moving closer to him.

he squints at you, leaning forward so far that he nearly tips over, his eyes narrowing as he’s trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. “wait... we know each other?”

you fight back a smile. “I’m your wife.”

there’s a beat of silence before his eyes widen again, and he jerks back so dramatically that the chair creaks beneath him.

“wife? no way!” he grips the armrests with exaggerated strength, staring at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. “are you serious? we’re married? to each other?”

you giggle as you nod, “for a while now.”

he slumps back, his head rolling to the side with a long, exaggerated groan. his entire body sinks into the chair.

“wow. I did it. I really did it,” he says, staring up at the ceiling again, his eyes unfocused and dazed. “I married the hottest person in the universe. I win at life.”

your lips twitch into a grin, watching him bask in his drugged-out epiphany. “you sure did,” you say, unable to stop yourself from laughing softly.

you move to help him up, sliding your arm around his waist as he wobbles to his feet, legs unsteady like a baby giraffe taking its first steps.

but as you start guiding him toward the door, he plants his feet firmly on the ground, stopping you with a wild-eyed, serious expression. “wait, wait, wait,” he says, his hand reaching out to grab yours with surprising urgency.

his fingers are warm, clumsy in their grip, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that, even through the haze of anesthesia, is so satoru.

his face is scrunched up in deep thought, brows furrowed as though he’s wrestling with the most critical question of his life. “I need to know something... something important.”

you raise an eyebrow, watching him try to focus, his blue eyes narrowing. “okay, what is it?”

“do we... do we kiss?”

you can’t help it—this time, you let out a snort of laughter. “yes, satoru, we kiss. all the time.”

he blinks slowly, his mouth hanging open in awe, eyes sparkling with newfound wonder.

“no way! I knew it. I’m so good at kissing, aren’t I?” he beams, his prideful grin exaggerated by the swollen cheeks, making him look utterly ridiculous. “I knew I was a natural.”

you chuckle, shaking your head as you tighten your hold on him, guiding him toward the exit. “you’re definitely something,” you mutter under your breath.

but, of course, satoru has no intention of walking in a straight line, let alone staying quiet. he stops again, turning his head to you with a deeply perplexed look, like he’s trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe.

“wait… wait… there’s these kids,” he says, gesturing wildly, nearly knocking the clipboard off the counter.

“they’re always hanging around. the loud pink-haired one, the grumpy one, and the one who keeps yelling. who are they? why are they always following me?”

you sigh through a laugh, shaking your head as you guide him forward. “those are your students, satoru. yuuji, megumi, and nobara.”

his face lights up with recognition—or something close to it. “yuuji! yeah, yeah, the kid who talks to everything. I like him. he’s my pokemon.”

you snicker, struggling to keep him upright as he sways like he’s on a boat in the middle of a storm. “he is your student, not a pokemon,” you remind him gently.

he waves his hand dismissively. “nah, nah, he’s my pokemon.”

you shake your head, unable to stop smiling. “sure, satoru. whatever you say.”

“and megumi!” satoru perks up again, his eyes sparkling. “my little emo sunshine. I keep trying to make him smile, but it’s, like, so hard. do you think he’s broken?”

his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning closer to you. “should we fix him?”

you let out a small laugh, trying to keep him from stumbling as you approach the door. “I think megumi’s just fine, satoru.”

satoru gasps, clutching at your arm. “don’t tell me... he’s also your best friend? is he my rival?”

before you can respond, the door to the recovery room swings open, and standing in the hallway are yuuji, nobara, and megumi.

nobara is the first to spot satoru, her eyes widening before she bursts into uncontrollable laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubles over.

“oh my god, this is amazing!” nobara cackles, already pulling out her phone and aiming the camera at satoru. “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life.”

yuuji grins widely, waving enthusiastically. “sensei! you okay?”

satoru beams at the sight of yuuji, grinning so wide that his swollen cheeks puff out even more.

“yuuji! my pokemon!” he tries to wave but nearly tips over, forcing you to steady him with both hands. “I missed you, man! when did you get here?”

yuuji looks bewildered for a moment. “pokemon?”

nobara is still laughing uncontrollably, already typing on her phone with one hand while recording with the other. “fushiguro, please tell me you’re getting this. this is gold!”

megumi, for his part, just stands there with his arms crossed, a sigh escaping his lips. but you can see the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, a rare sign of amusement.

meanwhile, satoru is now waving his arms around excitedly, turning back to yuuji. “we should totally start a band! you play drums, and I’ll sing. we’ll call it...gojo and the gojos!”

yuuji blinks in surprise, his jaw dropping slightly. “uh, what?”

nobara howls with laughter, her camera still rolling. “oh my god, this is going in the group chat. no, actually, this is going everywhere.”

megumi shakes his head, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters.

you sigh, shaking your head fondly at the absolute circus unfolding around you. “alright, superstar,” you say, gently pulling satoru toward the exit, “let’s get you home before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

satoru grins, his eyes half-lidded but still full of wonder, like he’s just discovered something miraculous. “home? with my wife? yes, please. best. day. ever.”

as you manage to pull satoru a few steps closer to the door, his weight leaning heavily against you, he suddenly halts.

you glance at him, bracing yourself for another round of his ridiculous, anesthesia-fueled revelations, but nothing—nothing—could prepare you for what comes next.

“wait,” he says, his voice low and serious, as if he's about to share the most critical, world-altering secret.

his glassy eyes look at you intensely, filled with wild determination. “I need to do something important before we leave.”

you blink at him, confused. “satoru, what could you possibly—”

before you can finish your sentence, he dramatically pulls away from you, somehow managing to stand on his own. with the grace of a baby giraffe on ice, he wobbles toward the center of the room, ignoring your protests.

“satoru—”

he shushes you loudly, a single finger pressed to his lips as he glances over his shoulder, his expression way too serious for someone who can’t walk straight.

“shhh. this is between me and the universe.”

you exchange a bewildered look with yuuji, who’s still watching in awe, nobara recording every second, and megumi now sighing deeply, clearly bracing himself for whatever absurdity satoru is about to unleash.

then, with absolutely no warning, satoru starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you yelp, rushing forward to stop him, but you’re too late.

he rips his shirt open dramatically, buttons flying everywhere, revealing his bandaged, puffy cheeks, along with his very confused, bare chest.

“satoru—oh my god—”

but he’s not done. no, of course he’s not. he thrusts his arms out to the side, chest puffed out proudly, and yells at the top of his lungs:

“I AM A PEACOCK, WATCH ME SOAR!”

the room falls into stunned silence for a moment. nobara freezes mid-recording, mouth hanging open in disbelief, while yuuji’s jaw drops, eyes wide with sheer awe.

megumi, however, just buries his face in his hands.

“I cannot believe I know this man,” megumi mutters under his breath, his tone one of deep regret.

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[spencerreidenjoyer]

lovebird | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's little girl sets you and her dad up.

wc: 3.3k, rating: teen

tags/warnings: 2+1, kindergarten teacher!reader, single girldad!spencer, fluff, meet-cute, implied sex, use of "Y/N" because this fic would've been impossible to write without it oops

a/n: not sure what possessed me to write this, but i finished writing this in about 2 days lmao. girldad!spencer loml. thank you to my lovely friends over on twitter who fuelled my insanity. for this fic i have season 10 spencer in mind/later seasons spencer who's just full on daddy at that point <3 (also crossposted on ao3!)

Sunday

You’re at the grocery store in a ratty t-shirt and sweats, picking out fucking cereal when you hear the pitter-patter of footsteps running towards you, and a sweet, high-pitched voice calling your name. 

It’s one of your students, Ellie Reid, holding a box of cereal that’s half her height, and she comes up to you in the aisle. 

“Ellie? What are you doing here?” You ask sweetly, pushing your hair out of your face before you squat down to meet Ellie’s height. 

“My daddy wanted to get groceries. He said we would go together. But he had to pick up the phone, and I wanted to help look for the things Daddy needs.”

Her dad, Dr. Spencer Reid, is an FBI agent and a single dad to Ellie. He’s one of the best parents you’ve had this year – the fancy kindergarten you teach at lends itself to spoiled brats and uptight parents, but Dr. Reid and Ellie are a welcome reprieve in a usually stuffy environment. You’re pleased to see her here, on a weekend, but less pleased with the fact that she’s alone. 

“Oh, wow! You’re so helpful, Ellie,” you say, holding her arm gently. “I’m sure your dad is really thankful. But you shouldn’t have walked off alone. I’m glad you found me.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s not safe for you to walk around alone in the grocery store, Ellie,” you smile. “Let’s go find your dad.”

Ellie nods, her cheeks ruddy and when you hold out your hand for her to hold, Ellie’s little hand wraps around two of your fingers. “Did you come to the grocery store alone? It’s not safe.”

“I did come alone. But I’m an adult, so it’s okay. You’re little, Ellie, so you should only walk around with your dad.” You lead Ellie down aisle after aisle, walking past canned food and bags of chips and walls lined with bottles of drinks. 

“But you shouldn’t walk around alone if it’s dangerous. When we find my daddy maybe he can protect you too!” Ellie says confidently. 

When did this grocery store feel so big? You can’t find Dr. Reid anywhere, and you feel a rising panic in your chest. You have half a mind to pull up the school’s contact information in your phone, but you hear Dr. Reid’s voice calling his daughter’s name, and both you and Ellie turn around.

“Daddy!” Ellie shrieks, almost dropping the box of cereal in her arms as she dashes toward her father. She almost trips as she closes the distance, thankfully landing in her father’s arms before she does fall. 

Dr. Reid scoops her up, holding her tightly. “You had me worried, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ellie mumbles against her father’s shoulder. “But I found Miss Y/N and she helped me find you!”

“I told her not to run off alone in the future,” you say. “Right, Ellie?” 

The sweet girl nods. She giggles into Dr. Reid’s shoulder, and his hand comes up to pat her back, a soothing gesture.

“I’m glad it was you she bumped into,” Dr. Reid says, sighing with relief. “I wouldn’t know I would do with myself if–”

“It’s okay, Dr. Reid,” you assure him. “It’s not a problem at all. You’re– You’re doing a great job with her.”

“Thank you for saying that. I– I’ll see you at the parent-teacher meeting next Friday, right?”

“Yeah, next Friday.” You smile at him. “Have a good day, Dr. Reid. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye!” Ellie, sweet girl, waves excitedly, her gummy smile overtaking her face. Dr. Reid walks toward the checkout, holding Ellie with one hand and pushing his shopping cart with the other. 

You feel how warm your cheeks are when Dr. Reid and Ellie are finally out of sight, your hand clammy around the handle of your shopping basket. You slap your cheek lightly, willing yourself to pull yourself together.

The way your heart flutters whenever you see Dr. Reid is a cause for concern, and you wonder if you should see a doctor about it. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is a marvel. He’s admirable, juggling his job at the FBI with raising a little girl all on his own, and he’s both a great profiler and a great dad. He’s incredibly sweet with Ellie and incredibly kind to you, which you unfortunately don’t get a lot, especially with the kinds of parents you deal with. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome: his hair is slightly long, wavy and messy in a way that frames his face just right, not to mention the stubble that makes him look that much hotter.

Your little crush on Dr. Reid is certainly inappropriate, but over the parent-teacher meetings and interacting with him when he drops off and picks up his daughter from school, you can’t help yourself from falling for him. 

Tuesday

Ellie Reid is a smart girl, that you know, but you're blindsided by her genius one day at recess. You’re monitoring all the kids at the playground when Ellie comes up to you. She has a contorted look on her face but she says, “Miss Y/N, I fell.”

“You did? Are you feeling okay?” You ask, squatting down to match her height. You look at her knees – not a speck of dirt nor a red spot from falling down.

“My knee hurts. Can you call my daddy?”

“Does it hurt badly? I’ll take you to see the nurse if it does,” you say, not entirely understanding the situation. You’ve never met a four-year-old who wouldn’t be in tears over tripping and falling, even if the injury wasn’t severe. 

The look on Ellie’s face makes you think that she’s trying to match your expectations of what she should be feeling. “It doesn't hurt bad. I just want my daddy to come pick me up. Can you call him?”

You try not to furrow your brow at the strange request. You’re usually trusted to handle any little accidents and mishaps with the children, but at Ellie’s insistence of calling her father, you feel like you should. 

(It’s certainly not spurred on by seeing him at the grocery store last weekend.)

“Alright, Ellie. I’ll call your dad and see what he says, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Y/N,” Ellie says, smiling at you. You get her to sit down on the bench next to you and your co-teacher to oversee the kids before fish your phone out from your pocket to dial Dr. Reid’s number. As you wait for the call to go through, Ellie looks at you with wide, expectant eyes. You smile at her.

On the third ring, Dr. Reid picks up. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Miss Y/N from Ellie’s school. I’m calling to inform you that Ellie fell on the playground during recess.”

“Oh, my. Is she alright?” You hear Dr. Reid’s voice grow concerned. Ellie looks up at you, and you look the little girl up and down one more time just to be sure.

“Yes, she is. I checked and she doesn’t have any scrapes or bruises. She says her knee hurts, but that she’s also fine. Usually, we don’t call parents over small mishaps like this, but Ellie insisted that I call you.”

“I see,” Dr. Reid hums, his tone indecipherable. “Can I talk to her?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Reid,” you say. You hold the phone out to Ellie as you put the call on speakerphone and tell her, “Your dad wants to speak to you, Ellie.”

Ellie is polite, but clearly excited as she yells, “Hi, Daddy!” 

“Woah! Hi, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, his serious tone while he was speaking to you gone, talking to his daughter with a delightful whimsy. “Miss Y/N told me you fell on the playground today. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Ellie answers, but she looks up quickly at you. “I mean, yes. Just a little. It doesn’t hurt too bad anymore.”

You hide your smile, and you think you can hear the smile in Dr. Reid’s voice as he says, “Okay, sweet girl, that’s good.”

“Can you come and pick me up right now, Daddy?” Ellie asks, a little whiny. It’s adorable, though. 

“Well, it’s only ten in the morning, honey,” Dr. Reid bargains. “And I know you have art class later, right? Don’t you want to stay around for that?”

“I do!” Ellie says eagerly. “Oh, I love art class!”

“I know you do, honey,” Dr. Reid assures. “So, do you feel okay enough to stick around in class until Daddy comes to pick you up at the end of the day?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ellie nods, even though Dr. Reid can’t see her. “But you have to come pick me up!”

“I always do, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, making Ellie laugh along too. “Okay, honey. Go on and play with your friends. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay! Bye, Daddy! I love you!”

“Bye! I love you too, Ellie!” Dr. Reid matches Ellie’s excitable energy, and Ellie giggles before she runs off to play again. His voice returns to a calm but engaged sort of energy. “Well, that was something.”

“She seems fine,” you say, switching the speakerphone off as you hold your phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of your work day, Dr. Reid.”

“Oh, please, it’s not a bother at all,” Dr. Reid laughs gently. “I love talking to Ellie. She might miss me or something, if she had to fake a fall so you would call me.”

“Perhaps,” you say, slightly surprised that Dr. Reid would be so quick to call out his daughter’s bluff. Some of the other parents would rip your throat out if you even insinuated their child was in the wrong. “I’ll still keep an eye out for her.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid insists. “Besides, it’s always a pleasure getting a call from you.”

You don’t remember if you thank him before he hangs up, because all you can think about is Dr. Reid saying he enjoys talking to you.

After putting your phone away, you press your hands to your warm cheeks in an effort to calm yourself and your beating heart down. 

Dr. Reid is one of the last parents to come by during pickup. It’s a somewhat regular occurrence, with Dr. Reid’s busy and hectic job. You are never bothered by spending extra time with Ellie, and you know Dr. Reid always tries his best to pick Ellie up as soon as he can. He usually makes regular pickup so you never get to exchange more than a few words with him, but days like today aren’t necessarily rare either. But considering your interaction on Sunday, you’re secretly pleased with how it’s worked out. 

Only you and Ellie are left in the classroom, you having told your co-teacher to clock out first. You’re pleasantly surprised when there’s a knock on the door frame, Dr. Reid standing there in a cardigan and a button-up shirt with his dress pants. “Ellie!”

His hair is somehow more fluffy and messy than you’d seen him at the grocery store, but it just makes him look even more soft and domestic. You try not to look at Dr. Reid with hearts in your eyes as Ellie shrieks and runs towards him, Dr. Reid picking her up easily and swinging her around before he holds her tight. “Hi, sweet girl.”

“Daddy!” Ellie giggles. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Dr. Reid coos, pressing a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head. Your insides melt, gooey at the tooth-rottingly sweet display in front of you. “Were you a good girl for Miss Y/N today?”

“Uh-huh!” Ellie nods, her gummy smile absolutely adorable. 

“She was a pleasure,” you add. “Hello, Dr. Reid.”

“Hello again.” Dr. Reid smiles. “It’s nice to see you. Are you doing well?”

“Yes, I am. Other than Ellie’s little incident, today was thankfully uneventful. Thank you for asking.”

Dr. Reid’s face scrunches up in an extremely endearing way, like it’s obvious that he’d want to know about… you. “Of course. I like to know you’re doing well. It’s great to hear.”

You feel like you don’t know what to say to that, perhaps a little too caught up in your little crush on him to come up with a coherent response. You laugh shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Dr. Reid has set Ellie down, and she wanders around the classroom, fidgeting with the pencils on the tables, but doesn’t stray too far from her dad. “Ellie seems to be fine from earlier, but you might want to check in with her again.”

“I will,” Dr. Reid says, nodding. “Oh! I almost forgot–”

You look on as Dr. Reid fumbles in his satchel, pulling a crumpled paper bag out. The paper bag looks bulky, oil stains seeped through on the sides and on the bottom. “Oh, it looks bad. It’s good, I promise– It’s a chocolate muffin from this really good bakery near my office. I just thought I’d get you one. Since you’re so helpful with Ellie. Especially today.”

Dr. Reid holds it out for you, and you scramble to step forward and take it. “Thank you, Dr. Reid, you- You didn’t have to. It’s my job to look after Ellie, after all. Not that it’s a burden, or just a job, I mean– Ellie’s great. She’s one of our brightest, but don’t tell any of the other parents that.”

Dr. Reid smiles so bright you feel like you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I won’t, if I bump into any of them at the parent-teacher meeting.”

You bite your lip, smiling, shy at the attention Dr. Reid gives you. You think he’s flirting(?) with you, but you try to remain professional. You clear your throat. “Thank you, Dr. Reid.” 

“Thank you again, Miss Y/N. I mean it.” Dr. Reid asserts, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Tonight is pizza night, so Ellie and I should be making our way home right about now.”

“Pizza!” Ellie yells, giddy, causing both you and Dr. Reid to laugh. She zooms past you to stand next to her dad. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. I’ll see you proper on Friday,” you say, nodding your head slightly. “And I’ll see you, Ellie, tomorrow, yeah?”

“Bye, Miss Y/N!” Ellie waves frantically. Dr. Reid joins her in her waving, equally silly. 

“I look forward to seeing you then, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Bye.”

“Bye!” you reply, trying not to sound too eager, and then Dr. Reid ducks out of the classroom with Ellie in hand. You feel like you’re swooning so hard you might faint.

Friday

Parent-teacher meetings go smoothly, thankfully. There are parents who only bother to hear the praise you give their children, so ignorant to the criticisms of their children that you try not to make too obvious. After seeing nineteen sets of parents, Dr. Spencer Reid is your last of the day. You don’t want to say you’ve been waiting for this all day, but checking off the nineteen sets of parents before this has only made you more and more excited. 

Dr. Reid finally enters the classroom, two minutes early for his slot, but he’s alone. 

“Where’s Ellie? She’s totally allowed to sit in for these meetings too.”

“She’s at my boss’ place for a playdate with his son,” Dr. Reid says. “Actually, that sounds pretty weird, doesn’t it? My daughter, having a playdate with my boss’ son?”

“Not at all. They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’m glad your colleagues are so helpful with Ellie.”

“They really are,” Dr. Reid asserts, smiling. “Hotch– My boss, I mean– offered, knowing I had this meeting.”

“That’s really nice of him,” you nod. “So, about Ellie…”

“Please tell me you only have good things to say,” Dr. Reid jokes, and you try very hard not to swoon. 

“Essentially, yes,” you nod. “Ellie is such a bright girl, and she’s so sweet. She’s always helpful with her classmates and polite to everyone and the teachers too. Again, don’t tell this to the other parents, but Ellie’s set high standards for the rest of the class.”

“You’re telling me an awful lot that I shouldn’t be telling the other parents,” Dr. Reid grins. “You sure you aren’t playing favourites?”

“You certainly are my favourite,” you say before you can catch yourself, and Dr. Reid looks at you with wide eyes. You imagine you look equally shocked. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, I didn't mean to say that.”

Dr. Reid cocks his head, a little smile toying on his lips. “Miss Y/N, did I ever tell you what I do for the FBI?”

You have no idea how this relates to how unprofessional and inappropriate you are being. You shake your head anyway, too afraid to say anything anymore before you say something even more embarrassing. 

“I’m a profiler, Miss Y/N. I use psychology and study behaviour to catch serial killers,” Dr. Reid explains, using his hands to articulate his point. Your eyes dart down to the motion; but your gaze quickly flits back up to his face. “In general, I’m good at reading people.”

“Is that so?” You gulp. Is he able to read you?

“I don’t mean to profile you, Miss Y/N, I mean it,” Dr. Reid sounds a little apologetic. “But I can’t help but notice the way you lean toward me when we’re speaking, the way you fidget with your hands a little, the way you can almost meet my eyes, but you still seem a little bashful about it. I either intimidate you, or…”

“Or..?” 

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but would you like to get dinner with me?”

“What?” You ask, disbelieving. “Dinner?”

“You- You’re interested in me too, aren’t you?”

“Too?” You gape, sounding like a parrot as you repeat his words, simply unable to wrap your head around the fact that Ellie Reid’s young, hot, genius father just asked you on a date. 

“I’m usually not too doubtful of my profiling skills, but beautiful women like you make me second-guess if I’m reading this right.” Dr. Reid laughs, avoiding looking at you. 

“Dr. Reid, I would love to get dinner with you,” You say, trying to sound confident. 

Dr. Reid beams as he meets your eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

“Cheesy that you’re calling me beautiful,” you laugh bashfully, waving him off. 

“I mean it!” Dr. Reid insists. “And, um– Would you want to do dinner after this? If you don’t have any other meetings, of course. Or any other plans– you’d probably have plans on a Friday night, right? Way to be presumptuous–”

“Dr. Reid! I don’t have plans tonight. A dinner date sounds great,” you laugh.

“Great! Great, good. I’m glad.” Dr. Reid says, looking a little giddy that you’d taken him up on it. “Also, um- I love when people call me Dr. Reid, but please just call me Spencer. Do you think people would get the wrong idea if you called me Dr. the whole time?” 

You cackle, Spencer looking thoroughly pleased at making you laugh. 

“Okay, Spencer,” you try his first name, and it rolls off your tongue with ease. “Let me pack up and then we can go get dinner.”

“I like when you say my name,” Spencer smiles. “What’re you feeling for dinner?”

If you and Spencer kiss at the end of your dinner date in front of your apartment door, that’s between you and him. 

You pulling Spencer into your apartment with your hands fisted in his hair should also stay between you and him. 

It doesn’t entirely stay between you and him, though, as Spencer calls his boss to turn Ellie’s playdate into a sleepover before he rolls over to kiss you and take you all over again. 

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”