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007reid · 9 months

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coffee caramels. spencer reid

this is my submission for the cm meet cute (or not) challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins ! i did VERY loose research on the stuff spencer sprouts off on because i am not our boy genius so sorry if there are any inaccuracies ':( this is my first time writing for spencer but i literally love it so much and i'd love to write more so plz flood my inbox with requests for him plzzz 😭

pairing: fem!reader x spencer reid

prompt: character sits next to a stranger in the theater, but the two end up bonding when there's a technical glitch.

warnings: slightly grumpy!reader and sunshine!spencer my fav trope <333 confident reader, reader makes the first move, spencer being a bbg and blushing a lot ;)) all the good stuff

word count: 2.7k

you arrived at the theater ten minutes early, bee-lined to the popcorn section and asked for extra butter. you loaded your oily popcorn up with coffee caramels and chocolate-covered coffee beans and bought a large coke. you walked in the theater, confident and fully armed with enough caffeine to hopefully keep you awake during the entire thing. you have tape in your bag to peel your eyes open just in case things go south, but you're confident enough to believe that it won't.

because it can't.

"aelita," your professor had said on friday, "is a russian phenomenon, and it is one of my top favorite films. considering how you are all in a russian literature class, i can make the safe assumption that you are all interested in russian culture."

now, not only were you in a russian literature class as an elective like two-thirds of your class, you were also a russian literature and poetry major. how you ended with that major baffles you and there hasn't been a day where you wanted to choose another major, but there hasn't been a day where you weren't depressed about your poor decision-making either. it's a battle you fight every day.

"aelita was first screened in 1924, and this year, next week, there will be a worldwide re-screening of the film in its originality, no edits, completely authentic, except with added subtitles for those who need it, of course," this was when your professor got very stern. "i want all of you to go and watch it. if you don't want to, fine, but there will be an assessment grade on this movie. this is not optional. i believe that the content of this movie is very true to our..."

at that point you had stopped listening, because you knew what your professor wanted you to do, and you dreaded doing it.

two hours, silent, black and white, russian film with subtitles. and you have to hang onto the movie's every word.

not your ideal saturday night plans, but for your academic career, you were willing to take that leap; looking like a sore loser at the empty theater with black framed glasses on instead of getting fucked up in someone's bathtub. it's fine. the partying was all up to the business majors anyway.

when you walked into the theater, it was, understandably, vacant, save for a couple men and women with graying hair or bald scalps and bad backs. you were clearly not the target audience. none of them had snacks on them either, and you felt awkward being the one responsible for the strong aroma of butter and coffee that stuffed the place the moment you walked in. a gentleman coughed in his hanker-chief and flared his nostrils. you were intimidated already.

you tracked down your seat and decided to not let any of it distract you. you needed a good grade on this assessment. you had already bombed your previous test on the imperial era; you don't need another bad grade stacked on top of it. you're acing this test, no matter what, and you're going to absorb this movie so well that it might as well be your favorite.

as you waited for the film to start, you munched on several of the coffee caramels, the caffeine slow to kick in. you shrugged it off. there's a whole bucket of sugar to fuel you through the film.

in midst of biting into a shelf of a chocolate-covered-coffee-bean, you heard a light thud and a hiss, and the quiet muttering of "i'm good, ow." an old man by the stairs called out;

"you alright, son?"

"yes sir," the man said. despite being alright, he was limping to his seat, and you watched him attentively, for there wasn't much else for you to observe. he limped closer and closer to you by row, ticket in his hand and checking the letters on the rows. he stopped at your row, and then walked crookedly and settled down in the seat right next to you.

you chewed on your popcorn as you directed your attention somewhere else, your determination slightly deflated. the film was late into starting, but you were still going strong.

"oh wow," you heard the man mumbled next to you, and looked over to see what he was talking about, nosy. but he was looking at you.

"what?" you said indignantly, immediately dropping the oily popcorn in your hand and wiping at your mouth, feeling oddly self-conscious. but mostly irritated. you'd say you hid your whiplash pretty well when you saw how pretty the man was when you looked over at him. you were so smooth with it. "chocolate on my face?"

"what? oh, no," the man breathed out a small laugh. he's got a soft, shy voice that got your insides feeling like broken tomato bits.

"then what?" you demanded, but not too authoritatively because you didn't want to chase him away. you kept it cool and in control. totally. it was hard to find eye candy in quantico, and the last place you would expect to find someone so pretty is in the theater for a fucking silent film.

even though it was dark, you could still catch the bright blush that crept up the man's neck, but it might be because he felt hot under all those layers. seriously, he was dressed like your grandpa, sweater vest, tie, collared shirt and all, but it was tied together in some kind of way that made it work, and it was the way the man carried himself that made him look youthful in all those ancient clothing.

"nothing," he ducked his head away, "i was just talking out loud."

you didn't have to be sherlock holmes to know that he was lying. "you liar," you accused, wiping your hand even more aggressively over your face. "i do have something on my face, don't i? just tell me if i do!"

"you don't have anything on your face!" he said, an indecisive and uncracked smile playing on his lips. you grumbled and turned back to look at the screen, still waiting for the film to start, popping candy in your mouth. in was silent for a merciful while, until the man said, "did you know that dmitri shostakovich conducted the music for this film and during its first showings in leningrad since the film was silent he came personally and played the piano whenever the soundtrack would be playing?"

you hummed. no you did not.

"i was surprised when i saw you, you don't look over sixty at all," the man continued. you didn't know how to take this piece of information as a compliment or an insult. "whenever i come to these things, it's only me who doesn't have grey hair. well, some people dye it, which looks pretty obvious because you can't really hide age, y'know?"

usually you'd be annoyed. very annoyed, in fact, you'd switch seats to be away from the guy. but this one's got a nice voice, and the moment he sat down you caught a scent to him immediately, that old cashmere and cotton scent that comes from old, thrifted clothes that you'll find dug deep somewhere in your grandmother's basement or in vintage stores, and sugar cookies and mint and coffee. it's a good smell, is all. you weren't being creepy about it.

"i'm not over sixty," you assured him. "just scraping twenty-two."

"oh! i'm twenty-two too!" the man said excitedly. he had child's glee to him, which you found more endearing than annoying. you didn't know why. you didn't know why you were still sitting with the man instead of scurrying three rows away like you would have normally the moment any stranger tried to attempt small talk with you.

maybe you were a changed woman.

"how crazy," you mused. you didn't sound half as interested or excited as the man did, but he had most definitely got your undivided attention. you nature tells you to not show it.

"how did you hear about this movie? i tried to get some of my friends to watch it with me, but none of them were too interested...except emily, she's usually more interested because she can speak russian but she got plans this weekend," his face fell into a thoughtful frown at the end, and the clockwork in your brain started to turn at the mention of 'emily.' was that his girlfriend? special lady? you shouldn't be googling, then.

"my professor created an assessment for this movie," at the man's inquiring look, you explained further, "it's for my russian lit class."

his eyes shone like a fucking diamond at that, as if russian lit was the most exciting thing he had ever heard of in his life. you could tell that you were looking at the kind of guy who would decline a party full of seniors to go read a dictionary at home. "is that like an elective you take? 'cause it's a subject that fascinates me a lot, but the demand for it is so slim that--"

he was cut off by the movie finally starting and flickering to life. you turned away immediately, eyes focused and attention zeroed onto the introduction screen. screw the pretty boy for now, you thought, you might as well pack your things and go back to your hometown if you fuck up this movie's assessment. it needed your attention.

black and white and grimy, a pretty font wrote 'aelita, adapted by alexei tolstoy.' but as soon as the film started, the picture quickly collapsed, blurring and then fading into black. with the audience being so small, there wasn't much commotion but whispers of confusion began to arise as the lights began to bleed more yellow, lighting up the theater more. it was as if the movie was over.

"sorry folks," a voice came from the grainy megaphone above all of them. "some trouble with the tape. we are trying our best, but not sure of our luck. all tickets will be refunded if bought online or you bring your ticket to us for a mark so you can present your current ticket right now at the next showing. thanks for your patience."

you looked exaggeratedly around, and the man in the sweater vest next to you looked equally as disappointed.

"my professor is not going to believe me," you muttered under your breath, but the man caught it anyway and chuckled quietly. you looked down at your still full bucket of popcorn and your large coke. you glanced over to the man next to you, not too smart things lottering around in your head. you travel through the subway, and the ride to your street is not until two hours. you weren't going to spend it morosely eating popcorn in the waiting lobby.

"is emily your girlfriend?" you asked suddenly. there was no point in being shy. the man's mouth unhinged from his jaw immediately, and you stared at him. his cheeks quickly stained an innocent pink.

"what?" he squeaked, his voice a higher pitch, caught off-guard. "no! no, she-she's my coworker!" he sounded almost offended.

this took you by surprise. you didn't know people who were close to their coworkers existed. "so you don't have a girlfriend?"

the blush on the man's face kept getting brighter and brighter. you bit your lip to keep from smiling like a fool. with how endeared you were by him, it's strange to think that you don't even know his name yet. it was rare for you to really be so mindful and think such soft things about somebody, especially to a stranger.

you were a changed woman. but maybe it's because of the coffee caramels messing with your head. sugar and caffeine tend to do that.

"no," the man said, then cleared his throat. he was fiddling with his fingers, an obvious stim. "no, i don't have a girlfriend."

"sweet," you grinned, "then no one would mind if i take you on a date, would they?"

he choked and got engulfed in a coughing fit, bending over in his seat. the red of his sweater vest nearly blinded you but you patted his back supportively. when his coughing ceased and he sat back up again, his eyes avoided yours for a while as he fought to keep the redness in his face down before he looked at you again.

"so?" you raised your eyebrow. "the night doesn't wait, pretty boy."

the nickname just slipped out of your mouth, and you cringed at the weight of it. how out of pocket. you were going to go home and contemplate this conversation later. but right now, you were trying to take out probably the sweetest looking boy you've ever seen, and that was a more important matter as of.

"okay," he said, and that was that.

"okay," you repeated. "let's start with finishing this, yeah?" you looked down at your bothersomely big bucket of popcorn. "we can walk to the park and eat it and feed it to the ducks."

"actually, it's not safe for ducks to consume popcorn because it causes digestive issues especially if consumed in large quantities and disrupts their natural diet," the man recited matter-of-factly, blinking at you obliviously as if he just didn't acted like a fucking android. you huffed out a laugh. handsome and smart. pretty much a package deal.

"the popcorn will be just for us then," you promised, standing up. he followed suit, as a lone line of people started to exit the theater. "i hope you aren't a serial killer in disguise," you said jokingly, but not really, because that was a genuine threat. he laughed. it was a sweet, syrupy sound that you could soak up and not get sick of for a long time.

"that's ironic," he mumbled, and it flew past your head, you being too busy maneuvering out of the rows.

"what was that?"

"nothing," he smiled, bright and easy. the initial nervousness was already beginning to melt away. when you were side by side, his hand accidentally brushed yours and when you looked up at him, he was already looking another way, pretending to be distracted by the movie posters but the red in his ears and neck gave it away. you smiled to yourself and grabbed his hand, holding your bucket of popcorn in the other.

"i forgot," you said, suddenly. his head whipped around to face you, but not before lingering his gaze at your intertwined hands. "i didn't get your name."

it was a foolish thing to say, you were holding a man's hand and you were pressed up side-by-side against him and you don't even know his name. he smiled softly, though, like he didn't mind. "i'm spencer reid."

"i'm y/n y/l/n."

"hi y/n," spencer said. you exited the theater and he started slightly swinging your joined hands. you laughed, the popcorn and candy in the bucket rattling and threatening to spill but you didn't care. "i'm a little disappointed," he said, pouting a little bit, bottom lip jutting out. "i was excited for the movie."

you breathed out an incredulous laugh. what a guy.

"i wasn't," you said, honestly. yours and spencer's arms were still swinging, and you resisted the uncharacteristic giggle bubbling at your throat. "rather be doing this instead." unexpected date at the park with a pretty boy in a red sweater vest or a boring silent film? the answer sounded pretty obvious to you.

"hm," spencer hummed, amused. "i guess i can catch the movie some other time."

"you can catch it with me," you blurted, and it sounded too early to say. you haven't had a proper conversation with the guy yet, you didn't know what he does and how he is, you didn't know whether or not he has a cat or a dog or a parrot or a ferret or if his room is kept tidy or messy, and you didn't know how much you were going to like him once the night is over. asking for a second date when the first one hadn't even started felt like too much, but it also felt like the right thing to say.

and if it's right, it's good enough for you.

spencer smiled shyly. when you turned right on the street, he pulled you back by your hand and redirected you left. "let's go the scenic route," he said, casually, and you could tell by the magenta tinge in his cheeks and the way he was firmly looking forward, avoiding your eyes that he wasn't feeling as casual as he sounded.

"want some of my popcorn?" you offered, feeling the large bucket was burdening you.

"oh, no thanks," spencer said. "i'm sure the pigeons will appreciate it more than me."

"does popcorn ruin their digestive system and disrupt their natural diet, too?"

spencer popped a large grin. it sat beautiful on his pretty face. "you listened," he said happily, and it felt like a large airbag had just inflated in your lungs. "no, i think pigeons are too used to picking our food, especially those in the city," a long pause, and "in fact, pigeons have a stronger digestive system than most birds due to adaptation, but the strongest out of all of them are vultures, whose stomach acid are so strong it doesn't get sick e eating rotten and bacteria-infested meats."

you hummed. you wished you had paid closer attention to what he said, but instead you paid attention to the smooth sound of his voice and how nice it sounded. well. you'll get there one day.

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demonvibez · 5 months

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A/N: I haven't actually played lesson 40 yet, but I've seen a ton of spoilers, and they made me emo af XD so I quick wrote this to get my thoughts out ~ may not be canonically accurate lol

You suddenly appear back in the House of Lamentation, slightly bewildered after the effects of the portal - you're in your room again, and everything is exactly where you left it. Your eyebrows furrow for a moment before you shake your head, disbelief filling your mind as you process your surroundings. You question to yourself if you're really back, is this really your timeline? From what you can infer, it would appear so - everything in the room lines up with your memories. But how long were you gone? How long before your demons started to frenzy, turning over every stone in the realm until they find you?

But you're back now.

Surely, they missed you. Surely, they've been attacked with grief and turmoil as you've spent months traversing through the past, doing your best to heal them as you mask your own weaknesses, your own fears, your own anxieties. Doing your best to get back to them. It feels like you have been gone a lifetime, and surely they've felt that, too.

Except, when you push open the doors of the House Library, and announce your return, you can't help but to feel a certain way at their lackluster responses.

Ah yes, time travel.

You're glad to have your demons back - and part of you is glad to hear that they have missed you without knowing why. But at this moment, it all hits you. At this moment, everything you have compartmentalized has come busting forth in your brain - all of the trials and tribulations of going back into the past has caught up with you.

You went through so much - and it wasn't their fault.

But it does throw you for a loop when you finally return home to your demons, but they never noticed you left.

To them, it was a night of sleep; to you, it was months of trying to prove yourself...

And that bothers you.

It's not your fault. It's not their fault, either.

But the idea unsettles you nonetheless...

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

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xawkward-ariesx · 2 months

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Because it hurts

“They’re people?” “They were, until they had all their humanity taken away… All emotions removed.” “Why no emotions?” “Because it hurts.”

She thinks about that sometimes over the years. After everything. After the walls have sealed them universes apart. After she sees the Doctor one last time but only to say goodbye, to tell her that this is the end, that she can never come back. After everyone moves on and carves a space for themselves in this new world that had left a gap just for them.

She thinks about the Doctor stood before a cyberman’s head as he told her, “An old friend of mine. Well, enemy.” She thinks about the way he couldn’t distinguish between the two for a moment. She thinks about the way he’d spilt about old monsters and the world he’d burned to destroy them. She thinks about Sarah-Jane, an old friend he’d never been able to speak of.

She thinks she understands some of that now. She wonders if he keeps silent about her the way he did Sarah-Jane. Thinks she’d understand that too. She thinks about Sarah-Jane telling her the Doctor had been called home by the Timelords, how she’d never seen him again. She thinks about the way the Doctor never talks about them; talks about the beautiful planet, the trees, the grass and the two suns it used to orbit.

She thinks about the Doctor screaming at the Nestene, trying to bargain with it even after it’s shown itself to be hostile. She thinks about the Doctor and how his pity for the Gelth had made him blind to their intents. She thinks about the way he wears his scars and if she’s one of them now, or if he keeps her hidden away with his memories of people. She wonders if he still lets his pain and his anger fuel his need to save another planet, another people. She wonders if it still burns a hole through his hand the way there’s a burning in the back of her mind.

She thinks she understands him in a way she never could before as she fights to prove him wrong. Words and numbers falling from her lips in a way that reminds her of Jack, remind her of him. Things come to her easier these days, things she’d never understood before when they’d gotten lost in techno babble back before. Before she’d gotten stuck. Before Jack had stayed behind to fix the Earth. Before they’d left him alone, despite their best intentions.

Things slot into place for her now in a way that she doesn’t understand how but comes from the golden, burning place in the back of her mind that she knows shouldn’t exist. Should be locked behind fortified doors. Shouldn’t still be glittering, but hollow and cold. Shouldn’t leak secrets of the universe into her ears. Should leave her clueless and frustrated, grasping at dead ends in a way that’s expected of a girl off a council estate that never finished her A levels. A girl that had followed a stranger to the stars and picked up a few more along the way because she hadn’t understood then; but she’d seen the same lonely shadow in him that she’d felt in herself.

But she understands things now that she shouldn’t. She understands dimensional travel. Understands the cracks in the walls and the scars in the void that never completely heal if you press just right. Understands the physics and theory better than anyone of her time period should, let alone her. Understands why monsters are easier to face than the ones you’ve lost. Understands why there had been locked doors on the TARDIS in the same way she can’t bring herself to decorate the blank room she’s found herself occupying.

And she wonders if the fire ever burns out for the Doctor in the way the universe feels a little too heavy for her sometimes. She wonders if he sees her in the way she hears his words in her mouth. And the shadows she’d seen him seem heavier in her own eyes these days. She thinks about her mum’s words on that fateful day.

“You even look like him.” “How do you mean? I suppose I do, yeah.” “You've changed so much.” “For the better.”

She thinks about how it had filled her with pride at the time. She thinks about how she’d thought she was fitting into this new world that he’d shown her. How she’d become more than just another nineteen-year-old girl from the Estates. She thinks about how she doesn’t bother to fit into this world. How she doesn’t try to force this world to make space for her where there is none. She thinks about how that sentiment has become even more true in his absence. She does look like him. From the way she carries herself to the way she carries her scars and her secrets, lets them make her someone else.

She thinks about the worlds she’s seen dying as the stars blink out of existence across reality as she fights her way back to him. She thinks about the way she’s let every single one of them harden her when she couldn’t save everyone. She thinks about the nonchalant way the Doctor had spoken of the empty Earth before the sun had swallowed it whole. She thinks she understands how he’d focused on the survival of the species of the planet living amongst the stars instead of fixating on the planet he couldn’t save. She thinks about the lone survivor of a planet with its twin suns and the little blue box that remains its planet’s only reminders of its existence after the universe moved on.

She thinks about all the people they hadn’t been able to save. About how every single one of them had burned deep inside of her, fueling a resolution to do better next time. She thinks about how the first few fires had burned her before she learned how to put up the appropriate armour up. She thinks about the Doctor and his own armour. She wonders what taught him to put walls up between himself and the fires.

But mostly she thinks about the ways the years slip by her unnoticed, despite her mortality and the way she feels as though she’s never getting any closer to what feels just out of reach. And she wonders if it’s the same for him. She wonders if his immortality weighs on him the way her humanity weighs on her. She thinks she understands now the adamant way he’d spoken of humanity and how it hurts, the way there’d been no room for argument. The conviction in his words as a man burned too many times.

#Ace writes #doctor who #doctor who drabble #DW drabble #Rose Tyler #Rose Tyler drabble #procrastination drabbles #this is unedited #dimension hopping rose #my favourite girlie is back <3 #rise of the cybermen my beloved #i havent written anything in forever and my dw inspo has been particularly absent so were taking the win #did i bash this out in one sitting immediately after seeing that gif set? yes. absolutely. thanks to the op for returning my inspo from war #im a lil scared to post this actually ive done a quick passover but i havent posted anything in forever #im supposed to be working on my lab portfolio but instead im here

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brownfrogs · 1 year

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Guardian of Dreams

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Cole aims at a training bot and misses by a mile. He aims at another and somehow misses even more. He grunts out in frustration.

“Come on, Cassidy.” He berates himself. He takes a deep breath.

He lowers his gun. His vision turns everything sepia as he focuses on only what is in front of him. The sound of a ticking clock fills his ears. The training bots on their programmed path turn into moving skulls. Imminent death upon those who dare gaze back at his Deadeye.

“It's….past your bedtime.” Cole deflates as he fans the hammer.

He kills none as they all managed to get to cover at the last moment.

“That’s it. I’m retiring.” Cole rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He leans against a wall. He would like to be in bed, but that’s not happening any time soon.

With his mind distracted, he doesn’t pick up on the other occupant in the training range.

So, Cole is horribly startled by the Hanzo shaped shadow that drops beside him.

“Jesus H. Christ! Warn a man before you do that.” He clutches his chest and exhales shakily. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“It does say my name on the training schedule if you had bothered to look.” Hanzo says coolly as he fixes his clothing from the landing. “I will say, not one of your better performances.”

“Gee, thanks.” Cole huffs, slightly embarrassed Hanzo saw all of that.

“Something must actually be bothering you to make your aim that sloppy.” Hanzo tilts his head and gazes at him in that intense way that he does.

“Yeah, well…” Cole’s mind flashes back to screaming awake and making sure his body was indeed intact and not actually being tortured to death by a certain Talon member.

“’S nothing. Just a nightmare.” He shrugs, doing his best to appear nonchalant.

Hanzo scrutinizes him for a moment then looks down, his face scrunched in thought.

He looks at Cole again, “Hold out your hand.”

Cole, without hesitation, holds it out. “What for?”

Hanzo reaches into his waist satchel. He pulls something out without showing it to Cole and places it into his palm with a careful precision.

“Maybe this will calm your mind.” Hanzo says, relinquishing his own hand.

Cole bewilderedly looks at the object. Upon closer inspection, he realizes it is a wooden sculpture. In the shape of a…wolf. Carved carefully are the details of eyes, a nose and a few tufts of fur. There is kanji written along the shoulder of it.

“Where’d you get this?” Cole asks sincerely.

“I carved it. With my hands.” Hanzo clears his throat, looking somewhat embarrassed at himself. “I did so, when I had a streak of night terrors a few months back.”

He gestures toward the sculpture, “I placed it near my bed and the night terrors stopped. Maybe it will bring the same peace to you.”

“Oh.” Cole says humbly. “Thank you.”

“Do not tell anyone about this.” Hanzo leans forward as he threatens him in a serious tone. “I do not desire the others asking me for one.”

“No, no, I get you.” Cole nods not wanting to draw his ire. “Lips are sealed.” He mimics zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“Good.” Hanzo sighs in relief. “My session is up. The range is yours.” He saunters out of the training area with his archer gear on his back. “Good night, Cole.”

“Night, Hanzo.” Cole watches him as he disappears into the shadows.

He looks at the wolf one more time before tucking it into his shirt’s pocket. He smiles crookedly as he pats it secure before reloading Peacekeeper and going for another round.

#just a quick lil drabble inspired by hanzo's new hobby :>#this is pre relationship post friendship #yeehan #cole cassidy #hanzo shimada #overwatch 2 #mel's writings #fic ref

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mikaelcipher · 10 months

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“Utsuki.”

He blinks. Once. Twice. And then responds with slight surprise, “Tasuku. Isn't it late?”

“That's what I meant to tell you. I just finished grabbing a drink of water, so I'm heading back to my room.” Tasuku looks him up and down, taking in his business attire and his briefcase, where his laptop is kept. “Overtime?” he guesses.

“Mhm.” Chikage nods, leaving his shoes at the door.

“... Would you like me to carry you?”

“Huh?”

“...”

They stare at each other for a good long minute until Chikage realizes that Tasuku is serious. “Is it because—...” That one time he joked about letting Tasuku carry him? “I wasn't serious at that time, you know.”

“Still, you're probably very tired, right?”

In the darkness of the singular light in the living room, it's hard to tell whether Tasuku is wearing a sincere expression or what. “I'm not that tired,” Chikage tells him but despite that, he does bring his briefcase close to his chest. “But if you insist.”

And he meant to joke about that too but somehow, he's in Tasuku's arms, being carried through the halls of the dorm. He wasn't sure what to expect at first, maybe for Tasuku to throw him over his shoulder or to carry him on his back but — a bridal carry? Really?

They're both mostly quiet as Tasuku makes the short trip from the living room to Chikage's shared room with Chigasaki. It's an odd situation, he thinks... It's strangely calming. Usually, when his feet are off the ground, he wouldn't feel very safe.

It's a trip too short when Chikage's back on his feet again.

“See you tomorrow, Utsuki,” Tasuku says and Chikage doesn't make it show that his mind has wandered.

“Yes, thank you, Tasuku. I should make jokes like these more often if it means you'll give in to my whimsies.” He smiles a little.

“Give in to your whimsies?” echoes Tasuku, confused. “You just have to ask, really. If you want me to carry you to bed again tomorrow, just let me know.”

“... That won't be necessary, thank you.”

“Alright, well... Goodnight, Utsuki.”

“Goodnight, Tasuku.”

Maybe he'll go overtime again tomorrow.

#tasuchika #a3 #a3!#tasuku takato #chikage utsuki #drabble #im sleepy asf and its almost 2am so its just a quick lil drabble #based off of that one recent comic of chikage joking ab tasuku carrying him #honestly hes SO gay #putangina bakla talaga tong si chikage eh #baklang bakla kay tasuku #mik dribble drabble

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wooahaes · 2 months

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i just found out that you and @nonranghaes are the same person and im mind blown by that fact 😭 both blogs are my favorites and im such an idiot for not noticing right away . anyways i love all your works!!! im actually feeling stupid AND giddy finding this out 🤣

khdfkgh tysm!!! i saved the nonranghaes url waaay before i was using it so im just glad to finally have a use for it hehe <3

#wooahaes.ask #asks.anon #i could have been posting those fics here but honestly i like having a separate sideblog for like. the unformatted stuff #no word count no genre only quick content warnings and whatever lil drabble i wanna throw into the world

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reki-of-the-valley · 1 year

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#Not me planning on writing a quick drabble when I have 2 essays due 2 novels to read a FE:3H fic to finish and post and work to be done #But whatever when have I ever had any chill in life #renga #langa #langa hasegawa #hasegawa langa #sk8 langa #sk8 reki #reki #reki kyan #kyan reki #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #lils rambles

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ghostussy · 10 months

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Copia works so hard.

Even now, as you drive home, you can see how exhausted he is after tonight's ritual. His head bobs gently against the passenger seat, smudges of white and black paint just barely visible underneath the passing streetlights.

Occasionally you'll hear him grumble, or babble aimlessly in his sleep. Sometimes he mumbles your name.

"Hng..." you glance over and see him lift his head, his eyes just barely open. You can't help but think how cute he is in this sleepy state.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. We've still got a ways to go."

"Don't... you need a break?" He's interrupted by a yawn.

"I'm okay," you whisper back to him. "It's only a couple more hours. Just rest, okay? You're so tired. Just let me drive, love."

He's too tired to argue. "Alright," he murmurs in a gruff, sleepy voice. You see his head fall back down and he's snoring not even a moment later.

When you're sure he's asleep, you reach over and take his hand. His gloves are gone, and you can see paint smudged on the soft skin. Lifting his hand, you press a gentle kiss against it. "I love you," you whisper softly. "Get some sleep."

#quick lil drabble askfkdmffn #drabbles #copia x reader #sleepy drabbles

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nihils-trolls · 7 months

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"Ooh. This is a good one..." Quilis mumbled to herself. Brushing aside some leaves, she slowly rolls over a fallen log. Underneath, a salamander sits motionless- hoping that she didn't notice it.

Ever so gently- as one can be when they're this tall- Quil kneels in the dirt with her palmhusk in hand. Snapping a picture, she then moves to stand- rolling the log back over carefully as to not squish the amphibian.

As soon as she does though, she feels a sharp pain in her head. A sign she recognizes, a warning. And with it, she immediately turns to head back to her hive.

Great, another 'visitor' had made their way into her hive. Better make sure it's someone she knows.

Somewhere along the way back, she gets another sharp pain. Someone was going in places they had no business being, digging through her stuff.

The only reason she knows this because of all the silent theft wards she placed in various spots around her hive. On certain doors, on a chest. There was even a boundary set at the top of the east wing stairs.

She quickens her step, the sense of urgency increasing. This someone had gone up those stairs, and she knew exactly what was going to happen.

It takes her longer than she likes to get back to her hive. Slamming the doors of the main entrance open, she makes a break down for the east wing. One of the few times she gets this active.

Stupid, she thinks to herself- stupid! She hasn't had the time to block off that door any further. She didn't think it would be an issue, being as removed as the estate was. She should have known better, been more proactive. That seal has been getting pretty weak, but replacing it was... difficult.

Climbing to the second floor, Quil spots the intruder- and it sure wasn't anyone she recognized. They had already cracked open the 'sealed' door, with a writhing darkness crawling out into the hall.

She shouts for them to close it as fast as possible, but her demand falls on deaf ears. Not that it would have done any good, seeing as the door isn't even there anymore.

The shadows crawl and spread out and down the hall. They cover every square inch of the place, blocking out light from windows and obscuring every surface. It consumes the stranger whole, and surrounds her as well.

Taken aback, Quilis's gaze darts back and forth, unable to tell what exactly just happened. Nothing is visible save for darkness and shadows- that, and one huge eye looking just above her head.

Nothing is said to her, but there is a palpable sense of bitterness and anger. The hive begins to creak and groan, the space it occupies beginning to warp under the influence of this... thing. She gets the feeling it will be difficult to just leave.

In fact, anxiety creeps up in Quil's chest as she stares up at the eye.

"... Well, fuck."

#nihil writes #plot: trepidation #quilis stuff #quilis kelter #this is just a quick lil drabble. dont worry! this isnt how it ends for quil.

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voidendron · 2 years

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Their ships had long since been hidden away.

The whispers of spies and war and treachery naught but stories on the breeze long past.

Holos in a museum, names fading in history.

New civilization built. A village, rising to a mighty city.

Odessen, long in the past.

Odessa, their future.

Decades, into centuries, stretching forth into millenniums.

Generations, to come and go. Leaders, to rise and to fade.

And still they whisper.

Of discovery. Of being found once more.

Of clues hidden away in the galaxy far beyond.

The Alliance long past. Odessan long abandoned.

Odessa, soon to be rediscovered.

"This is uncharted space."

"I know."

"If we lose track of our course we're screwed."

"I know."

"Thousands of spacers have tried to follow the clues! They all either gave up or never came back."

"I know."

His knuckles were pale where they gripped the steering mechanism. The Bothan in the chair next to him harrumphed and slumped back in his seat; the pilot only grit his teeth and stared at the unknown space beyond the ship.

The ancient holo-recordings played in his mind, again and again.

He'd studied what remained of what he'd learned was once known as the Eternal Alliance on the planet Odessen, overgrown and reclaimed by nature as it was from thousands of years of abandonment. He'd studied the holos countless times over, run the clues through his head and brainstormed them with his crew.

He had a good feeling about it this time.

They weren't just any spacers or fortune hunters!

Farsc was a scholar. More than that, a surviving Force-user. He could feel....something. he didn't know what it was, was still timid to reach out through the Force for fear of discovery even know he shouldn't have to, not anymore, but there was something out there. Coaxing. Beckoning him in what he just knew was the right way.

They'd be the ones to finally discover the fate of that Alliance so long past.

He just knew it.

#swtor #sorta #tales from the void #voids ocs #vehsz rediscovery era #quick lil drabble cause i wanted to get this idea down #oc: farsc jo'll #oc: yudre h'erad

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tojis-gf · 10 months

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ngl if i jus sit down n write tmr, i can finish dis fic fr...

#˚ ༘ ೀ 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑧 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑠 ⋆｡˚#yes its gonna be smut #its toji x reader ofc its gonna b smut #BUT i wanna do like a cute lil date night fluffy drabble or sum #so maybe while i write dis fic ill write a quick drabble 🌚

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eddiesghxst · 10 months

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#hii #quick check in before i dip for the night #gonna post a little steddie drabble in a lil bit then finish up part two #hopefully get the formatting done tonight as well so i can get it to y’all by tomorrow🤭🫶#OKAY BRB I GOTTA FINISH THIS BLURB

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anaisanais-stuff · 2 years

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Hey 💐 what do you think isak og even did today? Or will be doing this weekend? 💝

Hi anon, and thank you for the question! I love thinking about Isak and Even in real-time. 💗

So, I think Isak and Even have just started their last year at NTNU and are having a nice, slow start of the semester. Maybe something like this:

When Isak unlocks the door to their apartment Friday afternoon, returning from classes, he immediately spots Even studying.

Not by their (messy) desk, but in the couch; the way he prefers it; long legs spread, laptop open on his lap and a little pile of books besides him. He looks up as soon as he sees Isak, his lips pursed in concentration turning into a cute smile,

“Hei.”

“Hey, babe.”

Isak crosses the room in two strides, bending down for a kiss before plopping down in the couch next to Even.

“How was class?”

“It was good.” Isak nods. “How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was cool.” Even’s eyebrows lift with his smile. “We’re doing internships next month.”

Even’s excitement bleeds into Isak’s smile. “That’s so cool, baby! So you’ll get to teach?”

“Yeah.” Even nods. “Can’t wait to meet the kids.”

“They’re gonna love you.”

“I hope so.” Even smiles, but Isak’s is wider. Surer.

“I know so.”

Even’s eyes flick between his lips and eyes, and even after almost six years it still makes him a little hazy with it. The way Even looks at him.

They kiss for a good while, just trading slow kisses tasting like coffee.

When Isak finally pulls back, he rests his face on Even’s shoulder. Cracks into a little laugh, “Fy faen, did you see all the new first-year students gathered in the park on campus today?”

Even smiles. “Yes. Doing love exercises or whatever.”

“Right. Poor fuckers.”

“Uh, didn’t you do them too back in the day?” Even shoves his shoulder playfully.

“Nah man, I skipped out.” Isak winks.

“Rebel.”

“Yup.” He smacks a kiss to Even’s lips, then leans back again. “Shit, it feels like it’s been forever since we enrolled though.”

“Mm…” Even tucks one of Isak’s curls behind his ear. “…This time next year we’ll have graduated with Master’s degrees.”

“Yeah.”

He hooks a leg over Even’s, Even’s warm fingers splaying over his knee.

“But uh, what do you-, what do you want to do then?”

Even’s eyebrows draw together. “When we’ve graduated?”

“Mhmm.”

“I don’t know. Get a job I guess.”

“Sure.” Isak dances his fingers over Even’s. “But, like, here or back in Oslo?”

“I haven’t really thought about that. Have you?”

“Nah, I don’t know.” Isak shrugs. “I mean, I like it here. But…”

“But what?” Even twirls a curl between his fingers.

“I don’t know. Kinda miss Oslo sometimes.”

“So, you want to move back?”

Isak thinks for a second. About Jonas and Eskild and Eva and Mags and Vilde.

About Jan and Sigrid. His own parents, even.

He thinks about Sana and Yousef; remembers their wedding with a throb of something in his belly. His chest.

When he turns back to look at Even it’s with a sure smile.

“Actually yes, I think I do. What about yo—“

“—Yes.”

“Yes?” Isak smiles, that throbby feeling growing a little inside him, when Even nods, eyes soft on his own.

“Yes.”

#answered asks #skam drabble #just a quick lil (semi) real time thing #fluffffff #evak drabble #even x isak #skam

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