#not tg

[kryptonitejelly]

Hiiiii! I really wanna read that Hotch bodyguard au that you mentioned but I can’t find it on your Masterlist, if it’s not too much trouble could you link it please? :)

It was just an example of an au that I mentioned, but I’ve never wrote one, but I’ve read a few around!

Imagining a younger hotch here - maybe early 30s? With reader in her early 20s.

-

“Hotch?” Aaron hears your voice calling him first from the inside of your suite. His brow furrows immediately, hands going instinctively under the material of his jacket and to the holster on his hip.

Quick strides carry him across the threshold of the room and towards the door which separates the bedroom from the rest of the suite. He turns the knob, not bothering to knock because you had called out to him, one hand still against his gun, ready to pull it out in an instant.

He pushes open the door, swiftly but cautiously to find you standing in front of the dresser, your back to him, hands clutching the material of your dress to your chest. Your gazes meet in the mirror, your lips quirking into an amused smirk as your observe the position on his hand.

“I’m not in any trouble,” you tease to which his brow furrows deeper in response, but otherwise remaining relatively unphased by your teasing. You don’t give him a chance to respond, already anticipating the chiding along the lines of how the world has a lot of crazy people that would love to harm the president’s daughter, that would come your way, choosing instead to launch head first into the reason why you had called out to him. “I need your help with the zip.”

Your request causes Hotch’s gaze to dart towards your back. He hadn’t noticed when he first stepped in, but he definitely notices now - the gaping back of your dress flared open to reveal smooth skin, the entire outfit only held up by the pair of hands clutching the material to your chest.

“Please?” He hears you say again, and he has to tear his gaze away from your exposed skin.

“Fine,” he says, tone brusque, but business like as he finally drops his hands away from his gun to move behind you. You feel a large, warm hand slide onto your waist and the rough ends of fingertips brush your skin as Hotch works to slide the zipper upwards. His face is expressionless, slipping back behind a mask of professionalism, but be he has to force himself not to stare longer than necessary as his mind wanders to what exactly it would be like to unzip you out of that dress - a thought he keeps very much to himself.

“Do you need help with the necklace?” He asks, gaze running over the piece of jewellery laid out on the surface of the dresser.

“Please.”

Hotch doesn’t wait for you to move, but moves first, hand reaching past you to pick up the necklace on the dresser. His movements cause his face to come up right beside yours, allowing you to catch a whiff of his cologne.

You push your hair to a side as he straightens up, his hands looping themselves over your head to drape the necklace along your clavicle.

“How do I look?” You ask, your gaze meeting his again in the mirror as he finishes the task, his hands dropping back away from your neck.

“Nice,” Hotch utters the single word, his gaze locked onto yours in the mirror. Truth to be told, he thought you looked stunning - you always did, but it wasn’t something he could say. You hold his gaze in attempt to bore past his deep brown eyes, but he gives you nothing, opting instead to glance down at his watch.

“We are running behind schedule,” he says as he pulls himself away, from behind you, legs moving briskly, business like to the door. “Will you be ready in another fifteen minutes?”

“Nice?” You ignore his question as you peer into the mirror, “dressed to the nines and I just look nice?” You turn to stare accusingly at him, arms on your hips. It makes Hotch pause at the door before throwing a glance back in your direction. He can see the petulant uptick of your brow and he knows it means that he won’t get away until he gives you more than just “nice”.

“You look beautiful,” he says gruffly, before pulling the door open and stepping outside. “Fifteen minutes,” he calls out before snapping the door shut behind him.

You turn back to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your lips now unturned in a wide smile.

“Thank you Hotch,” you call out in a semi yell, loud enough for your voice to permeate through the closed door. You can almost hear him roll his eyes.

[dreamofcentipedes]

Rest in peace, Takahashi Kazuki. Thank you for my childhood.

[peoplegettingreallymadatcards]

[oathkeeperoxas]

Iceman/Maverick in their retired era, courtesy of noahdeaart. Posted with permission.

[selquet]

THE GREAT | 3.01 "The Bullet or The Bear"    

[thecollectibles]

Art by S TG

[jrrwindsaor]

cannibalism.

Insta: @windsaor

[as-lost-as-you]

[gayarmpits]

Wolfenstein (The Guy Site, 2021)

[swedenis-h]

TGS Mondays save me TGS Mondays..

@glass-scientists

[polar-equinoxx]

Step one: make peace with dad

Step two: manage to survive mission with dad

Step three: have dads kiss each other on the carrier’s deck

[kryptonitejelly]

kiss me? james potter x reader

idk ok this just wrote itself, i am not even sure its presentable but hey, its a process, right?

-

“James,” you find your gaze darting constantly between the warm hazel pools that are just inches away from yours, and pair of soft, pink lips that you can just almost feel against your own.

“Yes dove,” he says, states - not so much a question as it just a line. His hands are extended on either side of you, his palms flat against the edge of the table behind you, caging you in. You’ve had some to drink and so has James, but while you are slightly warm on the inside, fingers tingling with a light, alcohol induced buzz, you aren’t drunk. A search of James’ eyes reveal that neither is he.

“What are you doing?” You find yourself asking. In any other circumstance with any other person, you would have known, been able to hazard a guess, but this was James - your childhood best friend of years.

Your question brings a slight quirk onto his lips, a gentle amusement on clear display in his features.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks, laughter tinging his words. He shifts, the space between you both now barely a gap. James’ words are soft, smooth, curling around your ears like a rich honey. His movement makes a tendril of hair fall loose, a dark brown curl falling across his forehead.

“We’re friends,” you fumble out, words unsure, careless, halting, a stark contrast to the natural movement of your hand, reaching up, fingers brushing his loose curl back. He allows you, before turning his head to brush his lips against your wrist. His lips are soft against your skin, but the action sends a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“Jaime,” your voice is a croaked whisper - your feelings a jumbled pile thumping in your heart. It sure as hell isn’t the first time your skin had felt James’ lips on you. He had a penchant for being touchy which tended to include lips on your cheek and forehead, but this, this - the pressure of his lips pressing firmly on your pulse point was something new.

You drop your hand, limb going limp in shock, but James catches it in a swift motion, his palm engulfing the back of your hand, folding it easily into his.

“Kiss me?” He asks, and the absurdity of it makes you laugh, body shaking, expression cracking straight into a wide smile. It was typical James behaviour, making the move, cornering you in so boldly, confidently, almost arrogant, only for the entire interaction to be rounded off by a question, out of the blue.

“Kiss you,” you gasp, mind diverted, only able to focus on classically ridiculous the whole situation is. Your amusement distracts you enough for James to manoeuvre both your bodies, pulling you tight against him, your body still shaking in amusement against his.

“This is mildly insulting,” he murmurs, all while the corners of his eyes dance with an amusement that mirrors yours.

“You just asked me to kiss you like it was the most normal question in the world,” you gasp, looking at James, both keenly aware, and not so, that your body is pressed up against a wall of hard muscle that is James.

“Isn’t it?” James counters as he brings the back of your hand which he still has firmly lodged in his to brush against his lips. You meet his gaze, eyes searching - searching for something, a prank, alcohol fuelled need, the makings of a fling for him, but you only find James.

“I must be crazy,” you mumble more for your own benefit than his as you feel yourself leaning into him. Your brain is whirling with a thousand thoughts a minute, and yet none all at once. James takes you both the rest of the way, arms pulling you even closer in, nose bumping gently against yours, lips coming to meet yours.

There is no explanation as to what this is, and the moment your lips meet his it all makes sense.

[diadoescomics]

Mechanics

Maybe incredibly esoteric but I just love the weird names people give mechs

If you got any please share they're very fun to read

[peoplegettingreallymadatcards]

[bo0tleg]

Slider is SO done with their shit.

Colored version and original below the CUT!

I genuinely saw the image below and was like I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT WE'RE DOING TODAY FERB!

[ivyrosetglued]

It’s Not What It Looks Like!