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#This is criminally short?

lookismfanfics · 6 months

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𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Just some cute fluff. Eugene • Jake • Hudson

𝐄𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞

🝮 He enjoys the feeling of your fingers intertwined.

🝮 He has a habit of folding his hands behind his back. It’s either that or resting them together on a table.

🝮 It’s a comfortable position for him. He never realized it felt even better to hold some else’s hand.

🝮 The warm tingle when your fingers brushed into his palm was something he looked forward to.

🝮 Never in public. Always in private.

🝮 Sitting down with you after a long day, resting his eyes, cradling your hands with his

🝮 That’s an ideal situation for Eugene. He couldn’t ask for much more.

🝮 He enjoys holding your hand up to his cheek, letting you caress his face. Sneaking small kisses against your fingers. Never letting go of your hand.

🝮 You’re probably the only one that can tell… but it doesn’t change the fact that Eugene is down bad for you. It also doesn’t change the fact that he’s touch starved in a way and hates to admit it… but holding your hand is the tiny amount of contact that he tolerates and enjoys-

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

🝮 Now as willing to hug and kiss all the time is Jake is, sometimes he just likes to keep it simple.

🝮 It’s romantic to him. Holding your hand.

🝮 Your hands slip into each others so easily, it’s almost like they’re puzzle pieces.

🝮 He gets tingles whenever your fingers lace together. For all his talk, Jake is pretty inexperienced when it comes to romantic relationships.

🝮 He reaches out to pull you closer, bringing you to his side as you walk down the street. Arms brushing against each other, hands pressed together.

🝮 Not all the time, but sometimes. He’s not overly affectionate of course. He’ll initiate hand-holding on walks… during dinner…

🝮 Hold hands as he kisses you senseless. Interlock fingers as your free hand digs through his hair. Hold hands as he presses his body against yours and molds his lips with yours.

🝮 Yeah… Jake likes to hold hands.

𝐇𝐮𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧

🝮 His knuckles are rough and withered as sand paper, to be frank.

🝮 He’s even cut his niece’s forehead before… trying to sweep some of her bangs out of her eyes. His skin is coarse… he’s aware.

🝮 He doesn’t know why you enjoy holding his hands so much.

🝮 You grab them during the cold, weaseling your icy fingertips into his warm palm. He brushes it off.

🝮 You grab his hand while you’re studying. It’s a little odd. He tries to ignore it.

🝮 When you begin holding his hand at random he finds it really unusual. You don’t actually like it… do you? The rough feel of his knuckles and palms. Even his fingertips are comparable to sandpaper.

🝮 You kiss his knuckles, dragging your lips over his coarse skin. He wants to flinch, but doesn’t. He wants to look away from you, but he doesn’t.

🝮 Holding hands with you is really nice…

Me: O-Oh…. Hey guys! Part two to bubble baths? Well you see- w-WOAH

Ya’ll: 🔪🔪🔪🔪

Me: Oh! The requests… UhM about that— WAIT-

Me: 😵

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vivitalks · 4 months

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oh but it is GOOD watching percy and annabeth fall in love in real time. to see the looks on their faces as they slowly discover that they would, actually, go to the ends of the earth to protect each other. "if i have to stick with someone," percy says, and then can't bring himself to say i'd choose you, because mere days ago he expected annabeth to stab him in the back at the first opportunity, and now he trusts her more than he trusts his own father, a literal god. "i thought we don't ask for help," percy says, but of course annabeth will swallow her pride (HER FATAL FLAW!!) and ask for help if it means saving percy. annabeth has wanted a quest since she arrived at camp half-blood, and yet she tries to sacrifice herself so the quest can continue without her. percy doesn't give two shits about the gods, and yet he chooses to sacrifice himself, not for the gods, but for his friends - so annabeth doesn't have to. they have been tentative allies for like three days and already they've both decided that nothing is more important than each other. just. man oh man

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo tv #pjo tv show #pjo tv spoilers #stuff #percabeth #annabeth chase #i just..........don't text ok #im not well #that episode was criminally short btw #they are NOT making full use of the episodes imo #there is so much content missed opportunities #i get some of it has to be more concise but like. damn #also hey tv show whyd you have athena forsake annabeth like that that was dirty girl #she would NOT fuckign say that

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michelle-is-writing · 1 year

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Tired, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 800~

A case that takes more than a week to solve usually tires Spencer out to the point that he's zoning in and out of sleep as he enters the apartment. This case was no different. In fact, he was so tired out from everything that the first thing he did was plop down on the couch after dropping his bags by the door. Usually, he'll take them to the bedroom and unpack, and usually, he won't start falling asleep two seconds after pushing his face into my lap either.

Moving the book in my hands over to the side, I peer down at him and smile with an eyebrow raised. "Tired much?" I joke with him, taking a hand away from my book and placing it on top of Spencer's fluffy hair. He tiredly groans in response to my words before turning his face up to greet mine, only to be blocked by the book in my hands.

"I see you've begun reading from my side of the bookshelf," He notes with an exhausted smile. My smile brightens as I look back at the printed words of the many poets and writers during the transcendentalism era. "It fell when I was dusting earlier, and I've always enjoyed poems and short stories, so I decided I would read it," I explain, placing a finger in the book so I don't lose my place.

Planting his face back into my lap, Spencer speaks up. "How far have you gotten?" He asks, his voice muffled by my legs. I look back at the unread page in my hands and look for my previous spot.

"Currently, I'm in the middle of The Birthmark by Nathanael Hawthorne," I answer. "Do you want me to read it to you?" I question him, smiling as I comb my fingers through his hair.

"I would love that," He tells me, his eyes closing soon after. As soon as I see him do this, I just know he's going to fall asleep within a few seconds. Nonetheless, I still begin reading it to him, trying to make him stay awake for just a bit longer by keeping my voice slightly raised.

"Such a union took place and was attended with truly remark- Spencer?" Not even ten seconds pass after I begin reading that Spencer's snores start overriding my voice. Looking down at him, I hold back a laugh before nudging his shoulder. "Spencer?" I say his name. "Spencer...?" I repeat myself, drawing on his name until I see him lightly jolt and wake up.

"Did you already finish?" He asks, his voice already groggy. This time, I don't hold back my amused laughter and watch as the messy-haired goofball stares at me, confused.

"Baby," I begin. "I barely even started before you fell asleep," I inform him, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. Upon realizing it's the truth, he sighs before replanting his head back onto my lap.

"I'm sorry..." he apologizes, reaching a hand up to rest on my knee. He runs his thumb against the soft material of my pajama pants before eventually stopping, growing tired even with that.

"It's okay, sweetie," I assure Spencer, placing his book beside me on the couch before moving to stand up. Taking his hands into mine, I pull him up with me, causing his sluggish body to slump against me. However, Spencer quickly takes this chance to wrap his arms around me and hold me closer to him as he gently sways us in his hold. For a few moments, I savor his touch until the thought occurs to me that if he falls asleep and goes down, I'm going down with him.

"Spencer, honey, let's get you to bed," I murmur to him, receiving a small nod against my neck in response. Still, it takes a few seconds for Spencer to pull his face away from my neck and part from my embrace, showing me Spencer was probably enjoying our embrace like me as well.

After walking to our shared room with Spencer nearly stumbling behind me, I help him change out of his work clothes and into just his boxers before turning to grab him his pajamas. However, before I can grab anything, I feel Spencer wrap his arms around me from behind. "Honey, let me grab your pajamas," I tell him with a small laugh as he almost whines.

"I'm okay, baby," He murmurs as he nuzzles his face into my neck like earlier. "Let's just get to bed," he adds. I can't help but simply nod at his words before turning and walking us over to our bed. As I pull the bed covers over, I feel Spencer begin to place light kisses down my neck. "I'll make it up to you for coming home so late~"

Shaking my head at his sudden mood change, I smirk at him before helping him lie down on our beige sheets and pulling the comforter over him despite his weak protests. "Tomorrow," I promise him, moving over to my side of the bed where I lie next to him. Without a second to spare, I feel myself become trapped in Spencer's arms just as he succumbs to a deep slumber. Spencer's soft snores from earlier return within seconds, making me slightly laugh to myself. He's so tired, it's like he's drunk - hence the sudden want for intimacy. I think I'll have a talk with Hotch tomorrow; he needs to stop sending my boyfriend home half-asleep and unsupervised.

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beelmons · 1 year

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"Come on, up." Spencer commanded as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Five more minutes, dad." you muttered, your eyes not even opening. Reid scrunched up his nose in rejection to the nickname; considering the many things he had thought about doing to you, he would be seriously concerned if you had started to see him as a father figure. Even more so when you guys were close in age.

"Not up for discussion." his arm slipped undeneath your body to pull you up, enough to have you sitting.

Your eyes forced themselves open, barely, and you could finally make up the figure that was handling your limp body like a rag doll. "Reid?" you said as you watched him arrange something on your night table "What are you doing here?"

"Hotch said you called in sick" he began to explain "You weren't picking up your phone, so I decided to stop by and drop some soup, but you were burning hot when I found you." he explained. You then noticed that the things on your nightstand were a bowl filled with cool water and a makeshift rag he had made with an old shirt. "I managed to lower the fever, but I really need you to take these."

Once he was done, ha handed you a glass of water and a couple of pills that looked like ibuprofen. You let out a raspy cough, followed by a sniffle. You looked like hell and felt like so. You had given him a key for emergencies, you had one to his apartment as well, and Garcia's, and Emily's, just a little dynamic the group had cooked up when it came to checking up on each other.

"Thank you." you answered embarrassedly. Being alone was hard, having to constantly look after yourself, knowing that if you didn't do it, no one else was going to. Nothing that you couldn't handle, of course, but you always secretly wished that someone would come to your aid, that someone would notice that keeping yourself well was not really your forte.

"You hadn't taken anything, had you?" he asked with accusatory eyes, and you pursed your lips in embarrassment.

"Rest is the best medicine." you lamely tried to excuse yourself.

"Mhm" he hummed "So is oseltamivir." he took the glass away from you once you had downed the pills and set it back on your night stand. Gently, he grabbed at your shoulders and pushed you back so you could return to your laying position. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me, okay?" he got ready to stand up, but your hand quickly, yet weakly, reached out for his wrist.

"Actually," you muttered with slight shyness "could you stay for tonight?"

A small smile drew on his face and his hand twisted to hold yours instead. "Always."

#i am sick and dying and alone #wrote a lil something to feel better #blurb: mine #blurb: spencer #blurb: criminal minds #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/reader smut #in short i love you

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beautifulbrainrot · 1 year

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spencer reid’s doe eyes ( that’s it )

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

cw allusions to smut, one swear, baby spence, sub!spencer (my love) just a little drabble about his cute eyes

“spencer i can’t focus when you look at me like that.”

“like what?” he questions, eyebrow raising in confusion at your sudden exclamation.

“like that,” you continued, gesturing across your shared desk to his face “, with those big doe eyes of yours” you grumbled, placing your elbows back into the table and resting your head in your hands.

“doe eyes? what about my eyes resembles the eyes of a female deer?” he carries on, confusion evident in his tone.

“you just have these big, innocent eyes, i just want to-“

you cut yourself off before you could go any further, burying you head into your propped up hands before you accidentally revealed anything else.

in the time you’d been at the BAU you had developed more that just a little crush on the resident doctor. you had been hiding it pretty well, at least from him - it only took the other members of the team a few weeks to figure it out - and you were trying to keep it that way so you wouldn’t ruin your professional relationship or your friendship.

but god you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to see those beautiful dark eyes blown in lust underneath you as-

fuck. you needed to stop thinking about him like this, especially right in front of him. when you lifted your head out of your hands you were met by the sight of a very flushed doctor reid, bright red adorning his cheeks and ear, extending down to his neck.

“yo- you just want to what?” he questioned quietly, his blush deepening as you lock eyes with him across the table.

“trust me pretty boy, you don’t want to know.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #sub!spencer #sub spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #blurb #short drabble #drabble #spencer reid’s eyes omfg

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caffeinewitchcraft · 1 year

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Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You stub your toe and the mind control breaks.

Your power snaps from the shock and the hundred or so clones you’d been controlling disappear with a pop! You hold your breath as the steel they’d been carrying clangs loudly in the cavernous room. You’re the only one in this sector but that was loud. If by some miracle nobody heard that, surely your abductor will notice you’re free any moment now—

Devil Eyes doesn’t notice.

You cover your mouth with both hands, pressing so hard that your teeth creak. There’s a hysterical giggle struggling to claw its way up your throat. You’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten, but this is what it takes to break Devil Eyes’ control? Your pinky toe throbbing after kicking a stray steel beam?

Fuck, that’s funny.

You breathe in through your nose slowly. Only when your lungs hurt worse than your toe from how much air you’re holding in them do you release your mouth. You breathe out in six quick bursts. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You’re free.

Holy shit, you’re free! How long has it been? Six months? Eight? You know it’s not summer anymore, but Devil Eyes has had you working in the depths of his lair for weeks now and you’ve lost track of time. That’s fine though, you’re pretty sure you’re still in Arizona and there’s sunshine even in winter. Your breath hitches in your chest. The sun! Oh, the sun, you want to see the sun so bad and now you can because you’re free--

Don’t cry. Don’t make a sound. Assess. Act.

Escape.

You’re in the delivery sector. There are piles of steel everywhere you look, tossed this way and that so that it looks like a giant failed game of Jenga. Your clones were carrying the beams from the truck in the docking bay to the appropriate facilities deeper into the mountain when they disappeared. Ha! Fat chance Devil Eyes finishes construction without you around. You’re the only reason this mountain lair is even possible. It would serve him right to spend so long stealing materials only to have nobody around to do the hard work for him.

That’s why I need to escape.

Spite is what keeps you moving. The truck driver is gone. He’s a real minion of Devil Eyes, not a brainwashed one like you. That means he’s probably in the living sector enjoying the benefits of willing servitude. Benefits like soda. And beds. And those little pillow mints they give you at hotels.

Your mouth waters.

Don’t you dare go back for a pillow mint, you scold yourself. It doesn’t matter how bad you’ve been craving one, forced to set them out and never allowed to eat one. You have the chance to escape and you’re going to take it.

You climb into the cab of the truck. The driver took his keys with him, but you’re a villain. You have the engine turning over in less than five minutes, the bed of the truck detached within three, the seat and mirrors adjusted in less than one.

Ten minutes after stubbing your toe, you’re driving out of the mountain and into the deepest of Arizona nights. Nobody sounds any alarms. Nobody starts shooting at you. How could they? You were the one manning the graveyard shift in the security room. You were the one at the turrets. You were the one doing it all while Devils Eyes and his crew slept.

The stars stretch above you. You crack the windows of the truck and suck in the fresh air greedily. Your eyes burn.

Not yet, you think. Your eyes smart and you bite your lip until the lump in your throat goes away. Not yet. As a villain, you’ve always made it a point not to let your guard down until the job is done.

This job isn’t anywhere near done.

----------,

Getting into one of Hero Force’s headquarters is either the best thing to happen to a villain or the worst.

Breaking into one is a badge of honor, especially if you’re able to get away with a trophy. Information, a hostage, even a paperclip. Anything that proves you were there and they couldn’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted.

Getting taken into Headquarters is a nightmare. It means you’ve been caught and caught good. Getting taken into Headquarters means the end of a masked villain’s career. Hero Force knows who you are from that point on and, even if you escape, they’re not going to lose track of you any time soon.

You’re not sure what walking into one is. A disgrace? An act of stupidity?

You park your truck illegally and push both doors open at the same time just a little after sunrise.

“Hello,” you say to the receptionist. He’s wearing the characteristic black mask of Hero Force personnel and you wait until his brown eyes shift from his computer to you before continuing. "I’ve been held captive by the villain Devil Eyes for the last six or eight months and I’d like to talk to somebody about it.”

“Pardon?” the receptionist asks. His fingers are frozen over his keyboard. “You—pardon?”

“I don’t know what month it is,” you say. Abruptly you realize you’re not wearing a mask. A chill shudders down your spine. Devil Eyes knows what you look like and now Hero Force does too. You are so fucked, you’re going to need to flee the country-- Think about it later. “So I don’t know how long I was brainwashed for.”

“Brainwashed?”

“By Devil Eyes,” you say. When the receptionist continues to stare at you, you shift your weight from side to side. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but is there someone higher up I could speak to?”

It turns out there is. The receptionist is only too happy to call them for you and things move very quickly after that.

They take you to the fifth floor of headquarters and into a very nice conference room. The receptionist brings you coffee, water, and a fresh change of clothes. He doesn’t bring you pillow mints when you ask but makes up for it by fishing out a crushed granola bar from the inner pocket of his blazer.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you say. Crumbs tumble from your lips and onto the oak table. “Fuck.” You lick your fingers and pick them up as best you can, scooping them into your mouth as you go.

“We’ll have something delivered,” he says, eyes skittering away from you. “It’ll probably arrive before Arctic—”

“No, it won’t.”

You twist in your seat, granola bar stuffed in your cheeks. Arctic is standing in the doorway in full costume, sans cape. Her slate grey eyes study you a moment before she steps into the room. Rag Doll, her second in command, follows silently behind. Unlike his boss, he’s half in his civvies– jeans and long-sleeved Henley that shows off the extra joints in his arms and legs. His patchwork mask does little to hide the bags under his eyes.

“Ma’am,” the receptionist says. He’s flustered in the presence of the A-rank heroes, you can see it. He sketches out a bow and then seems to think better of it, jerking ramrod straight and shuffling towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Arctic watches him go with one pale brow raised.

As soon as the door shuts, Rag Doll sighs. “It’s his first day.”

“He didn’t get their name, did not relay a proper history, and called me ma’am,” Arctic says in her heavy drawl. She frowns and smooths her white hair away from her face. “That’s three strikes.”

“Wait until he watches all the HR videos before you start handing out strikes.”

“He should have finished those before he was stationed at the front door.” Arctic strides around the table and takes the seat at the head without looking at you. She pulls out a notebook from her utility belt, flipping to a blank page, and then finally looks at you. “Do you need another granola bar?”

Oh. She was stalling until you could finish eating. A smile comes to your face unbidden. “I missed your southern charm, Arctic.”

Arctic drops her pen.

Rag Doll, halfway into his seat, freezes. He stares at you with wide eyes. “Virus?”

Oh yeah. You used to compliment Arctic’s Southern manners a lot before Devil Eyes got you. “Long time no see.”

“Long time—it’s been a year,” Rag Doll says incredulously.

“You look awful,” Arctic says without a bit of manners to be found.

“A year?” The room swims. Since the wallpaper kind of reminds you of bile anyway it’s no surprise what happens next. “Fuck.”

You throw up.

------------------.

“I was going on the straight and narrow,” you’re saying an hour later. You’re in a different conference room, this one on the third floor. The walls are a nice, soothing blue and there’s a vanilla air freshener plugged into the wall. “I really was.”

“You’ve been with Devil Eyes this whole time?” Rag Doll asks. He’s seated across from you, leaning forward onto his elbows. He’d stopped Arctic from putting the power suppressors on you. She agreed when he pointed out they might kill you in your fragile state. “There’s never been any indication he can hold someone that long.”

“Well, he can,” you say. You wordlessly accept the tea Arctic slides across the table. The heat of it shocks you in the best way. You drink greedily, relishing in the warmth as it slides down your throat. “And not just one person. He could hold me and five of my clones at first. Then ten. Then twenty.”

“But your clones are you,” Arctic says. She refuses to sit, standing behind Rag Doll. She crosses her arms. “It’s impressive he was able to hold you that long, but it was just you.”

“Impressive?” You laugh without humor. “I’m not exactly impressed.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Rag Doll says. He looks over his shoulder at Arctic and, when she nods, he continues. “It’s just that, from what we know about your powers, holding you and your clones would be the same as holding one person.”

“It’s not,” you say. You’re giving away too much information about your powers, but you don’t care. Devil Eyes needs to be stopped. “Every one of my clones is an exact replica of me. An exact autonomous replica of me. Otherwise, I’d have to be some sort of supercomputer to control them all.”

“You’re not?” Rag Doll asks. His voice is light, like it used to be during your fights. Teasing banter.

You’re not in the mood for banter.

“No,” you say shortly. “If I was, I wouldn’t have been caught.”

Rag Doll sobers. “How did that happen?”

“I was getting out of the game,” you say. You wipe the back of your mouth. The tea is sitting better than the granola bar, but you’re still feeling unsteady. You clear your throat. “I should have just disappeared, but I didn’t. I let a few of the locals know I was going to be leaving. Stupid of me. Stupider when I agreed to come to the goodbye party they were throwing.”

“Locals?” Arctic asks. Her voice is smooth and cold. “Which locals?”

You shrug. “Dreadwatt. The Ice Twins were in town back then, they said they’d stop by.” Your lip curls. “Devil Eyes.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun party,” Rag Doll says.

“No.” You didn’t think so either. But how do you explain that they were the only people who thought your low-level villainy meant something? Heroes and civilians just found your antics annoying. Villains found your schemes clever. “It was a way to mark the end of an era.”

“What were you going to do after?” Rag Doll asks.

Were. You can’t get mad at the past tense. You’re sitting in Hero Headquarters without a mask. Arctic has probably memorized every single one of your freckles. Even if she hasn’t, Devil Eyes knows your face. There’s no way you get to retire to an honest life now. “I was going to be a librarian.”

Rag Doll perks up. “You like to read? What genre?”

“Mostly science fiction.”

“Me too! Have you read—”

“Devil Eyes got you at the party?” Arctic interrupts. She shoots Rag Doll a chiding look and claims the seat next to him. She fixes you with her chilling gaze. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You don’t remember the moment it happened. That’s the scariest part. It took you weeks to be able to feel Devil Eyes’ control. Until then, everything still felt like your choice. “He had me start construction on his lair about a month after that. He was sure his control would hold by then.”

That makes Arctic lean forward. “His new lair? You’ve been there?”

You grin bitterly. “I’m the one who dug it out.”

“Dug it out? It’s underground?”

“Some of it.”

“Where?” Arctic flips open her notepad. “We know it’s east of the city and, judging by the truck you arrived in, it’s in the deep desert. Can you give us coordinates?”

“I’m pretty good with stars,” you say. Even now you can remember the exact position of them the moment you left the mountain. “I know exactly where it is.”

Arctic can’t hide the impatience in her voice. “Where?”

“Not so fast,” you say. You lean back, crossing your arms. Your heart pounds against your ribs. “I want a deal.”

Arctic snarls. “You don’t understand what’s at stake—”

Rag Doll puts a hand on her arm, quieting her. He smiles at you. “Now, Virus, you know—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rag Doll blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t call me Virus,” you say. Your skin itches and you dig your nails into your arms to keep from scratching. Devil Eyes called you Virus. “I retired. I’m not Virus.”

“Then what would you like us to call you?”

Your mind scatters. “I don’t know. Not that.”

“Alright,” Rag Doll says gently. He waits a moment and, when you don’t offer up anything else, says, "You know we can't offer immunity agreements. Foresight would have to be here for that and we don’t have time for him to fly down from New York. What I can do—”

“I don’t want immunity,” you interrupt.

“You don’t?”

“You don’t?” Arctic echoes. She frowns, seemingly shaking off her impatience. “You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes, Viru—sorry. You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes.”

“That’s fine.” It’s not. You rub your arms, fingertips worrying at the half moon indents your nails bit into your skin. It’s the price you’re willing to pay to take down Devil Eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll pay for those. But I want to be there when you raid his lair. I want to be there when you catch him.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Rag Doll says immediately. He shakes his head. “Arctic and I both have mental defenses, but you don’t. We know your power and now, knowing the extent of it, we can’t risk having him turn you again. It’d be like facing an army—”

“You’ll need an army against him,” you interrupt again. You press a hand against your chest. “I know how many minions he has. I know the layout. I know the location. You need me.”

“But if he gains control of you again—”

“He can only control twenty of me,” you say. You’re feverish and jittery so you stand. You pound your hand against your chest. “Only twenty, so I’ll be a hundred of me. I’ll be so many that those he manages to ensnare won’t stand a chance against the rest. I can do it. I can be more than he can handle. He got the jump on me but he won’t again.”

Arctic furrows her brow. “A hundred? You can make that many clones?”

You laugh darkly. You weren’t a good villain. Your goals were always too small. Robbing a grocery store, taking over the local theater, stealing the water from the water tower. They don’t know what you can do. “I can do more than you know. I can do more than Devil Eyes knows.”

Silence fills the room as the heroes think. The air freshener sprays a new puff of vanilla.

Rag Doll clears his throat. “If we let you come—”

“Rag Doll!”

“—if ,” Rag Doll emphasizes to Arctic. To you he says, “You won’t kill anyone?”

Of course I’m going to— “No,” you say. You cross your fingers under the table. “It’s just….” You look down at the wood grain. You say in a small voice, “I had to escape alone.”

Whatever protest Arctic was about to voice dies on her lips. “There were others there?” Her gaze sharpens, a bloodhound on a scent. “Who? Where?”

Aha. You guessed right. Arctic is patient. Arctic is polite. She’s been neither of those things during this conversation. What she has been is impatient and demanding. Devil Eyes has someone Arctic cares about. Devil Eyes might even have a hero from Arctic’s team.

“I didn’t see them,” you whisper. You glance up from under your lashes to find the heroes hanging onto your every word. “But I know where he keeps them.” You bite your lip. “I—I shouldn’t have left them there. I know what it’s like being under his control. I know what he does.” You sit upright, meeting their eyes unflinchingly. “I want to save them. I’ll pay for my crimes after, I swear. I won’t run. But Devil Eyes needs to be stopped.” You let your voice crack. “Please. I need to help stop him.”

Arctic softens. “Virus—sorry. Please, is there anything else I can call you?”

Your lip trembles. “My mother called me Dandelion.”

“Dandelion,” Arctic says. “That’s lovely. Dandelion, I understand how you feel. I don’t think—”

Rag Doll stops her with a hand on her arm. “Arctic? Can we talk in the hall?”

“Of course.”

You watch the heroes leave the room. As soon as the door closes, your lip stops trembling. Your shoulders straighten. Your eyes stop glistening.

Rag Doll and Arctic will argue for ten minutes. You’re a former villain and, despite your lack of real villainy in your history, you can’t be trusted. You know Devil Eyes’ hideout, but you’re also fresh out from his control. You’re powerful, but that power can be turned against them.

But those arguments will only last ten minutes. The reality is that they don’t have a choice. You're not going to give them the location without being allowed to tag along. They don’t have time to wait for Foresight or even the Mind Squad who specialize in dealing with mental powers like Devil Eyes’. They’re heroes and the villain has one of their own. They have to act.

You settle back in your chair. They’ll agree to your terms. Your stomach twists. It’s nauseating to think about going back there. A year. Devil Eyes stole a year from you.

You hide your grin as the door opens.

“Alright. Let’s get you kitted out. You’re coming with us, Dandelion.”

You’ll be stealing a lot more from him.

Then instead of crying, maybe you’ll be laughing.

Only one way to find out.

--------

Thanks for reading! I love mind powers in the Superhero universe but they sure are a pain to write!

If you’d like to read stories like this or like others on my blog a week before I post them here, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Next week’s story is already up! Summary:

Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. TW blood, death, violence, child death

Thanks again for reading!

#my writing #mind control #violence #librarians are crafty af #and somewhat criminal #for good reason!#my superpowers #superheroes #original short story #second person

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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

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Ghostlights as college roommates and maybe some identity shenanigans thrown in would be so fun! Maybe dannys doing a little vigilante work on the side as well to up the secret identity mayhem

Danny would like to say his college career is going well. Gotham isn’t where he was expecting to pursue higher education, but the engineering scholarship he got through the Wayne Educational Foundation was just too good to turn down. It even covered the cost of an apartment! Although, the apartment is shared with another student who got a Wayne scholarship.

Even with that, Danny lucked out and got a great roommate. Duke Thomas is chill, kind, respects Danny’s space and doesn’t throw wild parties or invite random people in at all hours of the day. He even joins Danny twice a week for study sessions!

Really, it would be the perfect college experience except for one thing: the ghosts.

Danny thought they’d stay in Amity Park. They had no reason to stray from the city where the portal was, and his parents are more than enough to keep most ghosts away. It took his friends, Jazz, and even Vlad to convince Danny that he wasn’t abandoning Amity Park and that the city wouldn’t fall while he took a few years to focus on himself.

He worried right up until he got to GCU and walked the campus for the first time. Then he decided to enjoy the four years he had on the scholarship to get his degree and live his own life like a normal person.

To say he’s pissed about the ghosts is an understatement.

The one thing he was looking forward to most is not being Phantom. Gotham is home to the Bats and they’re more than capable of handling everything in the city. It means there’s no need for him here and he can focus on school and enjoy going on invisible flights without worrying about being hunted down or having to fight a ghost.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he mutters under his breath as he feels the familiar chill race up his throat, A cold mist wafts out of his mouth, curling around his words, and Danny quickly ducks his head and hides it from sight.

“Did you say something?” Duke asks, looking up from where he leans against the kitchen counter, squinting at a recipe on his phone.

“Nah,” Danny lies. “Just stressing.” He gestures to the papers he has spread out on the dining table, then stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk. Maybe that’ll get my brain to work correctly tonight.”

“Got your phone on you?”

Danny reflexively drops a hand to his pocket, checking that his phone is where it’s supposed to be. It’s what Duke asks every single time Danny mentions going out, worried about Danny being unprepared for Gotham. It’s nice of him, though Danny does wish he can say that he’s survived a lot worse than a few muggers.

“Got it.”

“Alright. I’ll try to work on dinner while you’re out.”

Danny nods and offers Duke a small wave before pulling his shoes on at the door. He grabs his keys and heads out, double checking that the door is locked behind him.

Then he glances around the hallway, checking that the coast is clear, and pulls up the chill of awareness in his chest. Slowly, he breathes out, watching the blue mist waft out and lead towards the stairwell.

“Wonder who it is this time,” he mutters to himself, going into the cold, concrete stairwell. It always feels a little off in there, as if he’s been removed from the rest of the world when the door closes behind him. His footsteps echo oddly in the space, so Danny chooses to fly instead, keeping his feet off the floor.

A few flights down is when he sees her: pale and translucent, a faint blue glow around her. She’s a familiar face. Emilia is one of the first of Gotham’s ghosts he’s met, leading to the rather unpleasant realization that ghosts don’t only come from the Infinite Realms. There’s a strange sort of magic in the very foundations of Gotham that makes it the way it is, creating ghosts that are different enough from what he’s used to that it leaves him off balance.

Gotham keeps her dead. Few get to pass on peacefully, and most have to wait until they grow weak and wither away, a second death, before they can be released from the living realm. The ghosts of Gotham are pale and weak, for the most part, and try to cling to him so grow stronger from his ectoplasm.

Most want him to help them pass on, or give them a way into the Infinite Realms. Some want him to bring justice to their killers. Others want to kill him and take his ectoplasm for their own so they can continue their reign of terror in Gotham, unable to be stopped even in death.

Emilia gives him warnings. It’s not always her, but she tends to be the one to draw him out of his apartment, pulling him into a vigilante lifestyle because he can’t bring himself to refuse anyone who asks for his help, and the dead in Gotham have no one else to ask.

“Danny,” she greets. “Nueve is out again. He’s going after the ghosts near Chantilly Street.”

“The sun isn’t even down yet,” Danny grumbles. Nueve, an old gang enforcer who died a few decades ago, cannibalizes other ghosts. It doesn’t destroy the other ghosts, not really, but it makes them feel pain when they shouldn’t be able to feel much at all. Taking their limited reserves of ectoplasm makes him momentarily stronger, and he uses that stolen strength to try to harm the living.

He’s been successful a few times. Danny makes sure to rip him apart as much as possible these days; he won’t be here forever, but he’s hoping that within his four years at GCU, he’ll be able to permanently stop Nueve.

Times like these, he misses having a Fenton Thermos with him. Though he’s not entirely sure it would work on Gotham’s ghosts with how different they are.

Emilia follows him down the stairwell to the ground floor. Once there, Danny shoves his hand into the floor, taking out the backpack he’s hidden in it. He’s done this change of clothes so often he can do it in just a minute now, hiding his face and pulling on gloves beneath a large hoodie with old ectoplasm stains along the sleeves and hem. A gas mask is pulled on as well, covering the bottom half of his face, a necessary addition to his Ghost Work Outfit™ after he almost got caught in some Fear Gas during Scarecrow’s last attack.

“Alright,” he says, “Lead the way.”

Emilia takes off through the wall and Danny hurries to follow, going invisible as he hits the streets.

It’s still early evening, the sun not yet fully set. Plenty of people walk along the sidewalks and cars pass by endlessly, honking at each other as they try to go twenty above the speed limit. Danny does his best to avoid running into everyone, deftly dodging the reaching hands of a few ghosts who spot him as he sprints by.

They only go a few blocks away from his apartment building, turning into a dead end alley where a group of teens (living, for once) are stuck with their backs to the wall, clinging to each other as they warily watch the man in front of them carelessly twirl a gun around his finger.

The man makes a strange clicking noise in the back of his throat, and it takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s trying to talk.

Still invisible, Danny sneaks around to stand in front of the teens, ready to bodily protect them. The man looks alive, and Danny see any ghosts around save for Emilia, standing at the mouth of the alley. There’s something strange about him; his movements seem just a little off, not quite as fluid as they should be. It’s not the movement of someone on drugs. It’s something that screams uncanny valley.

The gun’s handle drops solidly into the man’s palm. He makes another few clicks, then raising the gun to point at the teens.

“Bad idea, pal,” Danny says dropping his invisibility. The teens behind him startle, gasping and trying to press themselves further into the wall.

The man’s eyes flash weakly and the pieces click into place in Danny’s mind. Nueve must have gotten strong enough to possess someone. That is… alarming, to say the least.

He rips the gun out of the man’s hand and tosses it aside. Then he pushes away the man’s arm when Nueve makes a clumsy attempt to punch him. With his chest left wide open and undefended, Danny takes the chance to shove his hand into the man’s chest, feeling for the familiar chill of a ghost.

And then he wraps his fingers tight around it and pulls out Nueve, leaving the man to collapse.

The teens behind him scream and Danny winces.

Pulling out a faintly glowing human figure from someone’s physical body does not look good. It’s the best way to end a possession, but it does look alarmingly like he’s just ripped someone’s soul out of their body.

Keeping hold of Nueve’s ghost, Danny steps to the side. “You guys should go now. Take care.”

The teens don’t need any more prompting. They take off in a run, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

Danny spares a glance to the man unconscious on the ground, but there’s nothing he can do with an angry ghost in his hands, so he has no choice but to leave him there as he flies up to a rooftop farther down the street.

“How many times do we need to do this, Nueve?” he asks tiredly, shaking the ghost.

“These streets should be mine!” Nueve howls, trying to break free of Danny’s grasp. But he’s quickly growing weak, his energy fading, and Danny’s holding back his own ectoplasm as tightly as he can. “They may have killed me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still take what I’m owed!”

“Dude, you’re dead. There’s nothing here for you. Move on.”

“You don’t get to speak on this, outsider. You think a freak like you has an say over us? You can’t stop us. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Danny squints at him. “What, are you planning a heist or something? With your gang of dead people too weak to lift a piece of paper?”

“We’re not all dead. We’ve got living folk helping us and we’ll be taking you out first when we hit the streets.”

“Good luck with that,” Danny says flatly, “Begone with you.”

Without giving Nueve a chance to say another word, he rips Nueve’s head off his body. His ghost wavers, then dissipates like smoke, fading away.

Another side effect of whatever it is Gotham does to her dead: their ghost forms are remarkably fragile and it takes only a bit of strength to tear them to shreds, giving him some peace before they reform again. It won’t stop Nueve from striking out again, gathering enough strength until he’s able to possess some other unfortunate soul, but Danny’s bought himself some time to figure out what the hell was he talking about?

There are living folk involved with whatever he’s planning. It’s probably another gang, maybe someone with magic who is able to see ghosts? Which is not great. Danny doesn’t know much about magic; even when facing ghosts who used magic or magical artifacts, his go to method of dealing with them is to start throwing hands like there’s no tomorrow.

Well.

It’s a problem for later.

For now, Danny needs to get back to his apartment and work on his calculus homework. Hopefully he can finish it before he gets frustrated enough that he gives up and lies face down on the floor until Duke manhandles him onto the couch, where he’s less of a tripping hazard.

He’s just about to get back to street level when his Fenton Luck strikes again and he hears someone land on the roof, just a few feet behind him.

“Hey there, stranger,” the Signal says. “You know, we run into each other so often it feels rude not to introduce ourselves. Why don’t you go first?”

Danny turns to face the daylight vigilante, standing with his arms crossed as if that would make him look any more approachable. He’s been popping up wherever Danny’s out dealing with ghosts, which is very not great for Danny’s plans to have a peaceful, normal college life.

Biting his tongue, Danny gives the Signal a quick two fingered salute, then goes intangible and drops down through the building. His invisibility sweeps over him and then he’s running through the streets, hoping it’s enough to keep the Signal from following him to his apartment.

He skids to a stop in the stairwell, dropping his intangibility just in time to crash into the wall. Panting, Danny waits for a tense minute to see if he’s been followed.

When the door to the stairwell remains closed, he lets out a slow breath, then pulls off all the pieces of his Ghost Work Outfit, shoving it back into his bag. He takes a moment to fix his hair, messy from the hood, then shoves the bag back into the floor, safely hidden from curious eyes.

Then he very casually walks up the stairs to the fifth floor and walks down the hallway to his apartment. His keys clang together when he opens the door, and Duke usually hears it when it does, but just in case, Danny calls out, “I’m back!”

He’s learned to announce himself after a few late night walks almost ended with him tackled to the floor when Duke thought someone was breaking in.

Duke doesn’t respond as he toes off his shoes. The stillness in the apartment feels off, as if the world is holding its breath. Cautiously, Danny walks in, trying to find his roommate.

He’s not in the kitchen. The living room is empty. Duke’s bedroom door is open and he’s not in there either.

Something cold lodges itself in his chest.

“Duke?” he tries again, looking over their apartment again for any sign of struggle, or something terrible happening, or even a mess that Duke needed more supplies to clean up.

There’s nothing. The apartment is as it’s always been, just with an empty space where Duke should be.

Worried, Danny stands in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out what he should do next. It’s because he’s standing so still, surrounded by silence, that he hears it: a light thud outside the window.

Danny turns and he can swear he sees something large moving outside the window, disappearing from sight just as Danny takes a step into Duke’s room to check on it. He rushes to the window and pushes it open, looking down at the street, then side to side, and finally up to the last three floors of the building.

Nothing’s there.

Slowly, Danny pulls his head back inside, closing and locking the window. “Must be my imagination,” he says, trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal.

He leaves Duke’s room and begins pacing down the hall, anxiety building steadily in him.

His phones in his hand before he can think his actions through, Duke’s contact pulled up on the screen. He should call. He should make sure Duke is okay, but Danny hesitates. Is this something to be freaked out over? Would Duke thing he’s clingy and nervous and a bothersome roommate? He doesn’t want to risk Duke asking for a new roommate next year when the lease renews.

But he’s worried. It’s Gotham and Danny just dealt with a violent, murderous ghost threatening him. Duke can deal with a stressed out, worried Danny if it means he’s alive.

He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings on and on and on until Danny starts to panic about having to find Duke’s ghost to avenge his murder.

The front door is thrown open so suddenly and so loudly, Danny jumps and his phone clatters to the floor.

“Danny! Hey!” Duke says with a bright smile, trying to catch his breath. He’s still holding onto the doorknob, slightly hunched over as he pants for breath. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

“Where were you?”

Duke straightens up and closes the door, kicking off his shoes. “Oh, just… out. Shopping. For dinner.”

Danny looks over his empty hands doubtfully. “No luck finding what you needed?”

“Nope!”

“What did you need? Maybe I can go to a different store and get it for you.”

“You don’t need to!” Duke says. “I just needed… tomatoes?”

Danny blinks at him. “We have tomatoes. Did you not know we had tomatoes in the fridge?”

“Oh, do we? Good to know.”

There’s something very weird about this conversation, but Danny doesn’t pry. Duke is weird sometimes, but it’s fine because he kindly ignores some of Danny’s oddities that come from being a halfa and a semi-retired hero.

“Do you… maybe wanna sit down? Catch your breath? I can make dinner tonight if you want.”

Duke waves a hand in the air. “No, no, it’s fine. I got this. Anyways, how was your walk?”

He definitely shouldn’t talk about the cannibal ghost and his threats to take out Danny with his gang. “It was nice. Very quiet. You know, for Gotham.” He punctuates this with an awkward thumbs up and immediately regrets it, but it’s already done so he commits to it.

“Cool! Great. Just wondering, did you see anything weird?”

“Depends on what you’re asking about?”

“Just some guy wearing black with a hood covering his face. He’s been active in this neighborhood and I saw some people talk about him online. Apparently he just appears out of thin air.”

Danny tries not to wince. That’s him, alright. Gotham’s newest neighborhood menace. “I don’t think so, but there’s a lot of people in Gotham that were all black and walk around with their hood up.”

“True,” Duke concedes. “Well, just be careful when you go out, alright?”

“I always am.” He gives Duke the same two fingered salute he gave the Signal. Duke stares at him for a moment, eyes dark and almost dangerous, then he smiles and walks into the kitchen.

“Wanna make dinner with me? I think we can figure out this recipe together. Unless you need to do your homework.”

“It can wait!” Danny hurries to join Duke, grateful for an excuse to push off calculus a little longer. He understands what he’s doing in the class, there’s just… so much work. He doesn’t even want to think about the tests. The tests make everyone cry.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then!”

“You’re in charge, chef,” Danny says, laughingly, and bumps against Duke’s side. He expects a light shove in return, something Sam and Tucker always did, but Duke goes tense instead, letting out a sharp breath that Danny is all too familiar with. “Wait, why are you hurt? What happened?!”

He goes to lift up Duke’s shirt to inspect his shirt, see the damage for himself, but Duke smoothly moves out of the way, grabbing Danny’s wrists and stopping him in his tracks. “I’m fine, Danny. I just got hit. Lightly. Minor bruising, really.”

Danny looks at him doubtfully, then wrenches a wrist free to lift up his shirt before he can move again.

Minor bruising is not how Danny would describe the blues and purples that decorate Duke’s entire side. He can see the outline of Duke’s ribs through the bruising. “How is this being lightly bruised? What hit you?”

“A car?”

“A car?!”

Duke winces, then pulls his shirt down. “I’m fine, Danny, really. It was just from a car that didn’t want to stop at a red light. I stopped another person from being hit, but the car got me pretty solidly. You know how bad Gotham drivers are.”

“Sit down!” Danny says, pulling Duke out of the kitchen. “I don’t understand how you’re still standing. I’ll get some ice, and I’ll handle dinner. You just stay there and stop pushing yourself for no reason.”

“Playing nurse for me now?”

“If I have to.”

“Would you wear a nurse costume for me, too?” Duke jokes.

Danny looks him dead in the eye and says, “If I have to. Would that make you follow my instructions? A tight little nurse dress?”

Duke sputters, cheeks darkening, and looks away. Danny grins, victorious, and darts back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the fridge.

“Maybe I’ll wear one for you anyways, once you’re all healed up. Only if you’re good, though.”

“Danny, you’re killing me here.”

“Better me than a car.”

Duke laughs and takes the ice pack, pressing it against his side carefully. “Oh, for sure. Thanks, Danny.”

“Hey, what are roommates for?” Danny shares a warm smile with Duke, then pats his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen to start making a simple pasta dinner.

Life in Gotham is weird and stressful and full of ghosts and heroes who won’t leave him alone. But it’s not all that bad, really. He’s happy with how he’s doing in college, and he’s beyond lucky to have Duke as a roommate. So long as Duke never finds out about his halfa status, then he’s sure they’ll be able to last all four years rooming together.

He just needs to keep a secret.

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dpxdc fanfic #my writing #prompt fill #3.6k.... still counting this as short. i have not failed yet at my goal of keeping these fics below 5k!!#i love this prompt so much it even got me making ocs... i love making ocs this is such a treat for me #will 100% be revisiting this prompt in the future to turn into a longer fic bc i have SO MUCH to write for this #had to cut it off here to have just one scene that shows them as roommates w secrets #truly a struggle to keep this short. this could easily be 30k. the amount of identity shenanigans i can write....#also playing around with the cursed gotham thing by making it affect ghosts :) perfect excuse to make my own gotham lore :)#btw duke 100% got injured chasing down criminals and thats how he got hit by a car. he wasnt fully lying abt it #he also tried to come in through the window of his bedroom. saw danny. quickly left and went up the stairs like a normal person #duke has his suspicions. danny is trying so hard to mind his business when duke acts strange and secretive #disaster in the making :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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brainrotdotorg · 4 months

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how many tasteless sacrilegious dolores dei-themed stripteases and burlesque shows do you think have been performed in elysium. blonde wigs and all white dresses and golden wreathes and all that. no bra obviously. spotlight shining right on the titties to mimic a lung glow effect. dolores dei drag queen performances lipsyncing to vesper-messinian chants

#dont ask me where this thought came from.#at least one pole dancer had a very short-lived war criminal theme going on for a little bit.#she was described the be supernaturally beautiful and all that after all #thinking about what the real world equivalent of that would be... jesus christ striptease?#i dont know why this. happened #i was listening to felix colgrave's infernum and my mind started to wander in the most fascinating way

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crispy-bonnie · 1 year

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Pretty Boy's Friend - SPENCER X READER DRABBLE

this is my first ever criminal minds fanfic ! this one is based off of a few storylines i've come up with in my head . i know they seem a bit out of character for spencer but hush let me indulge in this . this one takes place around season 10 because that's where i'm at with watching it so yea

"Spencer?"

The sound of your voice calling his name brought him out of the book that he had found himself getting lost in, now looking up to see you, smiling warmly with his all-too-familiar hoodie hanging over your shoulder. As his chocolate brown eyes met your's, he couldn't help but blush, and he definitely couldn't help but hear the giggles and whispers of his colleagues.

"Uh- hey...! What uh..what are you doing here?" He muttered, eliciting a chuckle from you as you gestured towards his warm-green colored hoodie that you had in your grasp, one that you designed and gave to him yourself.

"You forgot your hoodie at my house, dummy!" You let out yet another laugh, curling the hoodie up into a ball in your hands before stretching your arms out to him. He carefully took the soft piece of clothing into his grip, making sure not to touch you due to the fact that there were eyes on him. "I know you spend a lot of time there but that doesn't mean you can just let your stuff hang around there too."

Spencer nodded, unaware of the pink plaguing his cheeks now going into full on red. He snapped out of his thoughts after a minute or two of staring, you having broke the awkward silence by saying:

"So...same time next week?"

"Oh-! Uhm- yeah, yeah. Same time.." He nodded, and you once more gave him another smile that caused his heart to nearly jump out of his chest.

"It's a date then." You nodded, adjusting your own coat that was resting on your shoulders. You turned away, now starting to walk towards the exit. As you made your way out, you called to him: "See ya 'round Spencie!"

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but all words had gotten caught in his throat. It was only when he heard the deep and godforsaken voice of one of his coworkers spoke up behind him.

"Looks like pretty boy's got a crush~"

"Shut up, Morgan."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #i know this is short but shut up i'm tired #oml this was so poorly written

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misstycloud · 1 year

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Yandere prisoner HC

Imagine a yandere prisoner who had been locked inside one of the most notorious prisons in the world. His crimes succeeds any other and he was heavily punished by being left to rot away inside his cold cell.

There he sits shackled to the dirty ground for years on end. The long metal chain was still long enough to walk around, but they were restraints no less to make sure he stayed out. Without any sort of entertainment exceeding his own thoughts, which weren’t so bad if they were filled of you.

You were his only solace, his light, his love; the one person to bring him a share of harmony. When he was scorned by people, you stood at his side. When he was mistreated, you tended to him and healed the wounds. When they called him a liar, you believed him.

Oh how he wished to be out there together with you, never to be separated.

The reality was harsh, and he had no choice but to face it head on; he was confined in a dusty cell, while you were outside living in the sun that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse of for years now.

The criminal has made numerous attempts of escaping his penitentiary but none were successful and remained stuck, without a way to see you. It took a great toll on him, not getting to be in your presence for so long.

He wondered how you were doing. Did you buy a nice house? Do you have a pet that you love dearly? Perhaps you’ve finally managed to get your hands on that rare limited edition tea-set you always wanted but never succeeded in purchasing.

He thought he wouldn’t see you again in this life, but hope came to him in time. The guard mainly tasked in keeping a watchful eye on him had aged beyond capability of continuing his duties. He retired with in turn meant they’d have to replace him with someone new and much younger.

The new guard was all too pompous for the prisoner’s liking. He didn’t take his superior’s warnings seriously and strutted about the place as if he owned it, along with mocking him every chance he got. The older prison guard did nothing akin to that. The most he did was to stare silently at him in suspicion, which was honestly more preferred.

One day during the lunch hour, the guard had come to deliver his food. Because he was a special case he wasn’t allowed to access the cafeteria like you would normally be able to in a prison. As the guard went with insulting him, he kicked the food bowl through the small hatch on the side, making it spill out on the filthy floor.

Laughing he said, ‘You gonna eat up like the animal you are? It’s more than you deserve.’ then he continued cackling.

The prisoner noticed his distracted state and used it to his advantage. Quickly he lunged forward, too fast for the slow guard and reached his arms through the bars and grabbed a hold of the other individual, choking him in the process.

He begged for his life; he didn’t want it to end in that rusty place. Funny, the prisoner thought because that was exactly what would have become of him had the other man not been to stupid. He squeezed his arm around his neck and choked him to death, enjoying how he clawed at him to let go while tears streamed down his face.

When he was dead, he fished out the keys from the pocket in his pants and unlocked the door and freed himself of his shackles. It was lucky this section only had him and not anyone else. They thought that limiting his contact with people would give a less likelihood of him escaping, or at least thinking about it.

It didn’t work.

Taking his first steps outside imprisonment he relished in the liberty, stretching his limbs thoroughly. Now he must get passed every other obstacles and out into the real world. That wouldn’t be all to hard, he speculated.

After that, the only thing left was you. Just you wait calmly for him, no need to stress. He’ll be there soon.

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sanyaoxsis · 6 months

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I came here for you, old woman yuri enjoyers

My concepts for the Moon and Sun

Bonus: Gigantic old lady harassed 4.6 ft man just for fun and that's it

I think, she is that type of person who is quite calm, but most likely from this person you will hear the worst things in your life. You will scroll through one of their two-way phrases after which your face will wrinkle like the back of a sphinx cat or it will happen immediately after what has been said and this thing will have a sexual context.Not the worst person in your life, but they cause inconvenience on occasion.

Caine calls her frisky, but I don't get why is this trait in female character is interpreted in such innocent and incredibly infantile way ugh.These are adult women.She says these indecent things and knows how to watch the reaction. I support women wrongs.

SHE NEEDS A WOMAN WHO WILL SAY JUST AS INAPPROPRIATE THINGS.

Sun has absolutely ridiculous humor. She doesn't care at all she's fine, good for her.

Sun and Moon have their own safe place. Old butches in love.

#lots of headcanons because I wanted to #I'm not into tadc #but I love women. i love butches. so I was here for a short time #old woman yuri #tadc moon #tadc sun #put them in love #I realize that every fuckin time i just draw “skinny and fat person in dance”#moon tadc #sun tadc #tadc #the amazing digital circus #moon x sun #sun x moon #tadc caine #SOME THINGS SOUND WEIRD #but I didn’t mean something bordering on criminal #I mean some parts of the interpretation of the character of the moon

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beautifulbrainrot · 1 year

Text

Sleepy

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

cw: just fluffy, pet name sweetheart (for spencer), no use of Y/N, sfw

Just a tiny drabble to get me started writing again! lmk if you like!!

This was definitely the best part of Spencer’s day. Coming home from work and seeing you lying on the sofa, in only and old shirt of his and underwear reading a book. He swore you never looked so beautiful.

He immediately dropped his satchel on the ground and threw of his shoes to get closer to you. After the day he’d had all he needed now was your loving touch. You looked up from your book when you heard his bag hit the ground, a smile lighting up your face as you went to get up to greet him. He was quicker though, flopping onto the sofa between your legs with his head resting on the soft flesh of you stomach.

“How was work Sweetheart?” You questioned reaching down to card your fingers through his chestnut locks. He only hummed into your stomach as a reply, the vibration causing you to giggle softly. He smiled at the sound of you laugh and closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of his weary head against you warm skin and let it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #drabble #short drabble #like so short i might expand #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader

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bidisastersanji · 6 months

Text

In this episode of I can’t do anything without thinking of ZoSan please go listen to “Lay all your love on me” by ABBA and imagine it from Sanji’s perspective I swear. Maybe someday it can be a fic featuring:

Sanji struggling with his feelings of jealousy when women keep accosting and flirting with Zoro

He thinks he’s jealous because he wants the women to be flirting with him but as time passes he realizes he’s being possessive of the stupid marimo and his head is so far up his own ass he doesn’t clock that Zoro has never shown interest in a woman ever

What drives him even more nuts is that this means he feels some resentment towards WOMEN and that’s a big no no these feelings are wrong and bad and should be buried because he’s a gentleman and women can do no wrong and he would never think bad thoughts about a woman his only vice is smoking after all

But now it isn’t true - and he comes to turn with these new feelings- feelings of attraction towards a man, which he hasn’t had before, and it’s just completely overturning his self perception- so he’s bisexual apparently???

At every party his possessive jealousy gets progressively worse, he begs higher powers that zoro notices him, not the women flirting with him, nor the men that he sometimes sees the marimo walk off with into the night

He yearns, he yearns so much for the swordsman’s love, daydreaming about his touch, his voice- the way he calls him by stupid nicknames- completely distracted as he cooks by himself. He wants it all, he wants it so much it hurts but there’s no way Zoro would want him.

When he looks back on it, it’s truly unfair how easily the swordsman made him fall for him- a little talk and a smile and his insides were turning to mush - it’s embarrassing, really, how he as an adult man fell so easily, like shooting a sitting duck

After Thriller Bark it gets worse- sometimes he feels a sharp flash of fear run up his spine, a faint echo of the abject horror he felt when he found the bloodied swordsman on deaths door, and he, panicked and against all logic, needs to find him and make sure he’s ok, needs to have him near. Zoro looks at him quizzically as his excuses when he does find him get weirder and weirder

Back when he was at the Baratie, he’d had a few little love affairs- and Zeff would always scoff at him when he claimed he had found the one and gush about whatever woman had decided to string him along that week, chastising him about the ease at which he gave his affections away- he’d told him repeatedly that it wasn’t love- that he’d know love when it really hit him

And oh god had it hit him now. Pining from Momoiro island does nothing for his poor little heart and his mind goes crazy over not knowing where his nakama are and what they’re doing and he’s definitely not worried about the marimo possibly being off on some island with a better, stronger, more beautiful man than him

Iva and the candies notice him moping and decide to coach him to get his man

Sanji’s mindset is completely different two years later - he’s determined to get ALL of Zoro’s attention, his love, his devotion, and he’s not afraid of using every weapon the Candies of Kamabakka taught him

#zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fic idea #zosan has truly taken over my life #but I’m not complaining #I just love imagining a pining Sanji #but also him post time skip #putting on some criminally hot shorts at fishman island to get Zoro’s attention #letting his hands give discreet little touches as he moves about his kitchen or gets a plate from in front of zoro #and more scandalous schemes that Iva told him to do #like going around in a bath towel #abba #zosan fic #one piece zosan

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