#YOU GET MEEEEEEE

[willowser]

HMMMMM bakugou being just. the absolute picture of sin.

he works overnight and comes home early in the morning, around 3 or 4 am or so, and you greet him and give him a kissy and ask how it all went. and even though it's still dark outside and he's been working for twelve hours—he's still coming off patrol, right ? so he's still got some energy left, and he eats something and takes a shower and winds down as you fall back to sleep.

and it's not until much later in the day that he wakes up, early afternoon, and you're kind of tiptoeing around so that he can get his much-needed rest. you slip into the closet of your bedroom for something and you think you're gonna get in and out without a sound, but his hearing is so attuned to just about anything and everything at this point.

so rough and raspy, he grunts out, "what're y'lookin' for?" and you whip around real fast and he's just—

half sitting up in bed, bare back leaning against the headboard. an arm behind his head, so that his bicep is tense and round and stone-solid. stretched like that, his obliques are more prominent, taut and rippling up the side of his ribcage. he must have gotten hot while passed out, as he usually does, because the comforter is all askew; one of his legs is bent, the fine hair a dark gold in the waning day; the other is hanging off the bed, lightly swinging as he watches you, and the blanket has come down enough that you can see the bulge of his thigh muscles beneath his stupid tiny black boxer briefs.

and he's just so. man. in every single way.

(his hair is flat on one side, too, and his eyes are still a little puffy from sleep—but you think that adds to it, all in all)

[kkoct-ik]

absolutely insane i get to draw headscarves again

[dilfmobius]

"You think you know pain?" | Loki in The Avengers (2012)

[volatilemask]

what's left of humanity

[djarinova]

In shades of grey in candlelight / I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason

Spencer Reid x gn!reader content - reader is in an unfulfilling long term relationship, thoughts of cheating, best friend!Reid, friends to lovers, slight angst from reader longing to be loved properly again, cheating is slightly romanticised, confessions, teeny amount of angst words - 3k (how did this even happen omg) reputation event masterlist

♡—How long should you hold on to something after it's proven time and time again to be the source of your pain? And why does missing your best friend hurt so much more than missing your boyfriend?

It had been almost 4 weeks since you'd last spoken to Spencer—a mix of his work, the weekend he spent visiting his mother and the looming sense of… something… that had been hanging over your head like a dark cloud had kept the two of you apart for longer than usual.

Spencer would have been able to identify the issue that had been plaguing you, he's always been good at that—even before he'd joined the BAU.

He had been able to figure out that you'd failed a maths test when you were 12 years old. He had been able to tell when your parents had had a fight when you were 15 years old. He had been able to correctly work out that you'd ordered yourself the wrong flavour of milkshake—over the phone, without seeing your face—when you were 18 years old. And as you got older, your problems getting more and more adult, he had been able to figure out through missed calls and unanswered texts that you'd had your heart broken again. And again. And again.

That's what he would have said was the cause of your behaviour over the past few weeks—you've changed your hair, thrown out a bunch of old clothes, rearranged and then rearranged again almost all the rooms in your flat and you've been out drinking with your friends twice already this week (not that this is a particularly bad thing, or even entirely unlike you, but you mentioned to Spencer once that going to a bar or pub for a drink was only really fun when you were with him, and it had lit a spark deep within him that he refused to acknowledge). But this time you know he'd have gotten it wrong. You haven't broken up with anyone, you're still very much coupled up and there's no sign of your boyfriend wanting to dump you at all.

That's the problem.

You roll your eyes, there's no point in feeling sorry for myself. I'm the only one that can fix it.

You scoff. The faint smell of your neighbours baking wafts over you, and you can hear him and his boyfriend giggling through your shared wall. A lump in your throat begins to form, and the familiar sting behind your eyes returns as you busy your hands with tidying away the washing up (that you had accidentally washed three times now.) The tears that fall feel like they're burning your skin as they run down your cheeks, as though the droplets are going to leave small scalding streaks from your eyes to your chin.

A new wave of bitterness envelopes you and a strangled yell escapes your lips before you have the chance to think. You hear your neighbour's pause, likely raising their eyebrows at each other as if to say what the hell is wrong with next door before quickly returning to being the lovey-dovey super cutesy couple that they are. And they are. Super cutesy. You've seen them around the building before, even one time accidentally ending up in the same café after a building wide fire alarm went off. They invited you to sit with them—your boyfriend was with his mates—as they didn't want you left on your own so late at night. It was nice, awkward, sure, but nice. Conversation was easy, they seemed to bounce off of eachother in ways that you and your boyfriend never have—at least not for many years now. Their laughter was contagious and yet as you said your goodbyes and slunk back to your lonely apartment you couldn't help the twinges of envy that plagued the back of your mind.

He doesn't look at me like that. He is never that enthusiastic about dating me. He would never gush about our first date like that. (And deep down you know he could say the same things about you.)

So, yeah. That wasn't very fun to sit with.

You somehow feel happy knowing that Spencer would incorrectly guess the reason for your ongoing sadness. For some reason the thought of being unknowable to him has you frenzied… A strangled noise escapes your throat—a laugh! Christ. It was a laugh, despite how bitter and angry it sounded.

Maybe frenzied isn't the right word… But god! You don't know! At least he would actually care. At least he would want to try and get to the bottom of your feelings, to try and understand why you've been jumpy and on edge and almost hyperactive in the way you've been non stop moving recently.

Tap tap tap.

The noise makes you jump out of your skin, heart thumping in your chest as your eyes dart to the clock. It blinks back at you.

20:37

You chastise yourself, it's probably next door coming to ask if you could keep your yells of frustration down while they're having a relaxing evening. Embarrassment floods over your face and you can feel the tears threaten to fall again at the thought of being confronted about your outburst. You can imagine the look of pity on their faces—although a hidden part of you hopes that they're coming to invite you over, to welcome you into their warm home, to smell their freshly baked bread and taste the chocolate chip cookies.

Your feet pad heavily against the wooden floor as you walk out of the kitchen towards the front door—tap tap tap. A further set of knocks has you almost tripping over your feet as you rush the final few paces. You swing the door open without a thought, not wanting the neighbours to have to knock again.

You spare no thought to the tear stains that have marked your face…

“I'm so sorry I didn't mean to be—Spencer? Wha–what are you doing here?” You splutter.

“I tried calling, but you didn't answer. Have you been crying?”

“I—well, yes I have but it's fine—I didn't expect to see you, you've been so busy lately.” You take a deep breath, for a brief second—and it was brief—you had been relieved to find that it was only Spencer behind the door, but it didn't take long for the embarrassment to claw its way back up your spine and sink its teeth into your flesh once more.

His eyes bore into you as if he's trying to look inside you. He scans your face, your movements, he watches your hands fidget nervously with the hem of your shirt—before you notice him noticing you and you flatten your palms against your sides in an awkward, unnatural manner.

“May I come in?” He asks, his voice is gentle and it's almost enough to make you fall to the floor in despair.

A hum is all you can manage in response. You quickly side step out of his way, locking the door behind him as he removes his jacket and scarf and hangs then neatly on the third hook from the left—the one that's always left bare, just for him.

You clear your throat. “What are you doing here, Spence?”

He pauses mid stride—he’s already halfway to the kitchen and if you had known he was coming over then there would a cup of coffee on the side waiting for him, in his favourite burgundy mug, the one with a chip on the lip—and tilts his head at you as if to say isn't it obvious.

“I'm here to see you.” He states, incredibly matter of factly, as if the mere question coming from your lips is completely ridiculous. Why else would he be here?

“I—” You start, but Spencer disappears around the corner before you are able to get any more words out. You huff, feeling slightly unnerved by his sudden arrival and subsequent behaviour since setting foot on your doorstep. There is nothing else in the world that can make you as happy as he can. Something which both terrifies you, and excites you a great deal.

You step foot into the kitchen and you are unsurprised to find Spencer already in the process of making himself a coffee. He pauses once more when he catches sight of you and he holds a second mug out towards you in question. You shake your head. You don't think you'd be able to stomach anything until you can get him to speak to you properly.

A thought suddenly occurs to you, and it may be the first time you ever fully allow yourself to truly think it. Because although it's not unusual for Spencer to visit you in the evening, sometimes even coming over as late as 1 or 2 in the morning—he gets back from cases at the most unpredictable times—do people think you're seeing each other? The two of you have been friends for years, it's not weird for a friend to come over at all hours of the day… right?

“Spence, are you alright?” You pause, eyeing his very full cup of caffeine. “Haven't you just got back from a case? I can make up the sofa bed if you want to get some sleep.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Why do I feel so weird about asking him to stay over? We're friends. It's what friends do.

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” He ignores your questions, but you can't bring yourself to be annoyed at him. Not when his knuckles are white from how hard he grips the cup and his eyes flit from your hands to your eyes to your mouth and back to your hands.

Wait—your mouth?!

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” He repeats. He closes the gap between the two of you with only a couple of steps. His steaming coffee is still clutched in his hands, but his fingertips seem restless, as if he knows where he wants them to be, but he just can't—or won't—move them there.

“Okay.” You whisper.

Your mouth feels dry—maybe turning down Spencer’s offer for a coffee was a mistake… He's barely an arms length away from you now, if you were to reach your hand out towards him it would brush up against the navy cardigan he has on. It looks so soft and you can't help but wonder how it would feel around your shoulders. Would it be baggy? Would it fit perfectly? And would Spencer want to come back from a case to find you curled up on the sofa while wearing it?

Your neighbour’s laughter ripples through the air like thunder. It's gone before you have time to register the noise fully, but it's enough to snap you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from Spencer's torso. It was as though he was waiting for you to make eye contact with him again, because he immediately puts his cup down on the side—more clumsily than usual, you'd be surprised if there wasn't an extra chip on the lip now—and takes the smallest of steps towards you. You are almost toe to toe now.

“I–uh–meant to ask you earlier… about your boyfriend.” He hesitates. “Presumably he's not around…”

There's two ways you could take his question.

Part of you wants to lie, to say that no, he's not around, you dumped him months ago—when your friends first told you that you should—and that you weren't expecting any company tonight. It would be just you and Spencer, no interruptions. Besides, Spencer knows that your boyfriend doesn't live with you, it's been the topic of many a heated discussion, but… could you just pretend you misunderstood? Could you say that no, he's not around, he's probably out with his friends somewhere. Could you admit that he hasn't texted you back in almost 4 days? Could you say he's not around, in fact, he hasn't been around you for 12 days?

But Spencer doesn't give you any time to think through what to say. You gasp when his hand touches your arm and he laces his fingers through yours without so much as a word, as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. As if he had done it a thousand times. The certainty with which he touched you has your heart pounding. What is he thinking? All you can do is blink up at him. His eyes are swimming with questions, but the only one he voices is, “Is this okay?”

Your head moves before you can think and he breathes a deep sigh of relief. You haven't felt as calm as this in months, and yet somehow it feels like you're suffocating. His touch is warm and the dusting of pink on his cheeks has you feeling a rush of anxiety—but the good kind, the kind of anxiety you get when your crush looks at you, the kind that comes hand in hand with a first kiss… And yet you know you need to pull away. Before something more happens.

You force yourself to pull your hand out of Spencer's and the emptiness returns immediately. You stumble away, bumping into the counter as you do so, and you utter a small yelp when your hip hits the corner. Tears sting your eyes and before you know it Spencer has his arms around you. Somehow knowing what you need before you are even able to think it. You choke out a broken apology—for what, you don't even know—and all Spencer can think to do is squeeze you against his chest, whispering soft comforts into your ear.

You stay like that for a while—long enough that the pain at your hip is now only a dull ache. Your throat is dry from all the heavy breathing and you feel a slight throbbing pain in your head, but you do, somehow, feel a little better.

That is until your emotionally fried brain catches up with itself. And then you cringe, hard. Embarrassment floods your veins and you feel your cheeks heat up by an alarming degree—like someone, somehow, is holding the sun directly against your skin. You are acutely aware of how closely Spencer is watching you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, unsure of whether there's a look of hurt, confusion or pity on his face—unsure of whether it matters—and all you can do is stare through your blurry eyes at what you think is your feet, but what could just as easily be a pair of furry, blue alien slippers.

You scold yourself. You fell apart all because he... held your hand? God. What a mess he must think you are. And—oh! How he probably thinks you are the worst person in the world for even entertaining the possibility of his feelings for you when you aren't even single. If he even thinks that what you did was entertaining the possibility. Or maybe you completely misread the situation and he was only trying to comfort you as a friend... But what if he thinks you have no interest in him? What if he thinks he's ruined your friendship and your relationship? What if you're reading into things far too much and he doesn't like you like that and he thinks you're a bad person for even thinking about kissing him–not that he would know that, he can't read your mind–and you've certainly never thought about kissing him before and especially not right now–he doesn't know how much you long for him to sweep your off your feet—

"I like you Spencer."

You blink. Slowly you bring your head up and meet his gaze. He takes a shallow breath, as if he had been holding it for quite some time.

Christ.

You only meant to think the words, and yet somehow they slipped past your tongue out into the space between the two of you. An accidental confession of something you hadn't even consciously thought until 0.2 seconds ago.

Well I can't take it back now.

He holds your gaze. His vision blurs ever so slightly and he blinks back his unshed tears before they get the chance to overwhelm him. He clears his throat before speaking, but even then his voice is low, quiet, as if trying not to spook an animal.

"You... do?"

You nod, and he takes another obvious sigh of relief, deeper this time.

"I do. I like you a lot actually."

It's as though hearing you voice your feelings for him has broken down the very last wall between the two of you. Your mind flits briefly to thoughts about your boyfriend, before shutting them down so violently that you almost feel sick. You taste metal in your mouth and you realise with a start that you'd bitten down so hard on your lip that you'd drawn blood. You reach for the closest available source to wash the bitter taste away—Spencer's coffee. And he watches as you take a sip, your eyes are closed but somehow he can sense that they are closer to shedding tears than his are. He reaches an arm towards you and gently begins to rub soothing circles on your waist. The touch sends an electric pulse throughout your entire body and you almost drop the mug in shock. It's like all at once you realise just how stupid you were for allowing yourself to be so miserable for all this time. Why have you been putting up with a boyfriend who barely touches you when one touch from Spencer has your insides burning? Why have you been putting up with a boyfriend who doesn't care about your feelings unless they are positively affecting him, when the first thing Spencer asked you tonight was if you had been crying?

For right now all you care about is the way Spencer's eyes glisten when they look at you, how warm his hands are when they touch your face and how the quiet laughter from your neighbours no longer makes you feel as lonely as it did before.

You felt like such a fool. But it seemed like realising this fact was enough to set you free. It seemed like the acknowledgement was enough. You didn't give any thought now to the things you would have to do this coming week—the breaking up, the collection of your things from his place (although at this point there is only a toothbrush and a single pair of joggers that haven't moved from their place on the back of his sofa since you washed them and left them there). Hell, even the possibility of having Spencer there with you hadn't crossed your mind.

[freakshowcowboy]

jamie flapping his hands hopping in a circle while crying and repeating "i dont know i dont know i dont know" when roy asks him whats wrong. hes just likeme Fr

[teddybeartoji]

toji is so dad sometimes it's so hot

[rintoki]

a a a a a a a a a

playing dress up with aventurine. where he’s your pretty little doll. trying on clothes because he likes to show off how pretty he looks in everything. except the clothes gets progressively raunchier… and sluttier… and more revealing. until he finally comes out in just lingerie, expecting some kind of reaction from you.

but you’ve just been looking on with a mild smile on your face, barely even a chuckle as he climbs onto your lap. aventurine can feel the familiar anxiety in his belly, the doubt growing in his mind. but he can’t turn back now; instead he grabs your hands, bringing them to his waist as he puts on the overconfident expression he knows all too well.

he spills his honeyed words, his eyes drawing you in. he’s far too pretty—gorgeous even—for you to ignore him like that. so he toys with the loosely tied bow across his chest; it wasn’t meant to stay tied for long, one small tug and it all comes undone.

he feels your thumbs rubbing along his waist, hands squeezing slightly and aventurine feels right on the edge. so, so close, he’s almost got you. the thrill of winning just within reach, just a little more…

“you look amazing in this one as well, i’m sure your lover will deeply enjoy it,” your easy smile and relaxed frame gave nothing away, toying with the silky fabric of the lingerie.

and he nearly stumbles as you move to stand, signaling the end of your little ‘meeting’. you’re not sure what he’s looking to gain from doing this, especially since he has yet to propose some kind of deal to you. however, it was getting late, and it wouldn’t look too good on either of you if you were seen leaving his residence so late in the night.

“if there’s no other outfits to show me, i think i’ll take my leave then. have a good night, aventurine.”

you’re gone before he can even think of an excuse to make you stay. or rather, if him dressing up like such in front of you isn’t enough to get you to stay, what else is a man to do?

[holorform2009]

I can't....

I can't stop thinking about them man.

Fucking hell!

Fucking shit!

This is bullshit!

Look at this two identical trains!

I can't get them out of my head😭

Like seriously...

I'm supposed to be thinking about platonic DC x reader! Not platonic Emmet/Ingo x reader 😭😭😭 What have you done to me?!?!

[patrophthia]

i could fight theodore nott

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

A (slightly angsty) domestic zukka hc I’ve been thinking abt a lot: I think Zuko would have a sort of knee-jerk flinching reaction when anybody touches his scar (with katara he looks like he’s bracing himself and with mai his whole upper body is sort of being held in place by her) (which i definitely think mai did on purpose to make him feel more comfortable but anyways) I think Sokka would after the first time figure out Zuko flinches hard even when he sees it coming and he’s The Plan Guy so I think he would secretly experiment and find out Zuko doesn’t flinch when sokka drags his hand from a different part of him (like his hair) onto his face. So he just starts doing that and it takes Zuko a stupid long amount of time to realize “hey Sokka touches my face a lot and it doesn’t suck. I wonder why🤨” until one day he figures it out like Sokka you sneaky shit you were nice to me and I didn’t notice

Bc the whole “zuko lets Sokka touch his scar bc he trusts him and he’s super normal abt it” is nice but it doesn’t feel realistic? You can trust someone a whole lot and still have instinctive trauma reactions. I think it’s much sweeter if Sokka notices and figures out a way to make it better without being asked.

Oh….. I’m….. this is a nice one 👍🏼

[shima-draws]

Sanlu marriage proposal but it only happens because Luffy’s jealous

“If Pudding got to (almost) marry Sanji then why can’t I??! >:((((”

[rawliverandgoronspice]

anyway to end the series on ganondorf tp's writing, my take (which isn't canon but arguable as a valid "death of the author" read imo) is that he is at his most iredeemable AND that's because he has zero things left to lose and no community left and his goal doesn't even make sense anymore he is parasitic and a ghost and pathologically obsessed by his own godlike legitimacy because that is the only thing he still has and it has prolonged his life in a horrible diminished state in a nightmare dimension so SURELY it must mean something right right RIGHT

[ogzieoggleton]

OH YEAAAH? WELL I ALREADY CLAIMED THE PANIC ATTACK IN WATER ONE A FEW MONTHS AGO SO WE ARE IN SYNC MY BROTHER LETS KEEOP GOING

What if I said that Garmadon had a panic attack when he woke up in complete darkness because for a second he had thought he was back in the Departed realm! What if he had a whole episode where he could feel everything feom the ressurection all over again coupled with more traumatic flashbacks to a sacrifice he couldn’t remember himself making with harumis words echoing in his ears to remind him that his son doesn't love or trust him and neither did his dad for keeping so much from his "pewvious little monster"

What if I tell you Garmadon had traumatic flashbacks to when he tore apart mytsakes dead body and consumed her corpse like a hunt- his memories bombarding him with the insatiable hunger he suddenly felt upib seeing what remained of her body until bot even bone was left (I'd like to add that in my au/hc mystake is alive so this would only happen if she had put lowly biker member in her place through hallucinations which yes means a random dog member was ragged to death by the hungry lord while harumi watched on knowing she could be next if he turned around too quickly-) but he doesn't know she is alive so he thinks he aye another oni and worse yet.. someone who was possibly his mother..

And what if I then said that upon eating food for the fiest time in forever, he was like some carnal beast - devouring the food like... well.. the Devourer.. such a revaltion caused him to have a depressive episode and nightmares of being the Devourer ending with him waking up screaming upon his "death" in the dreams and splitting headaches after.

And what if I said that he was so lonely that whenever he is touched gently or kindly by someone he trusts, he starts to cry softly in their embrace. Vinny held Garmadon's cheek in his warm hand, feeling the cold flesh of the oni against his palm like a hit of cool night breeze against a cosy stained window. That coolness was lost, however, when hot tears rolled down Garmadon's face, shocking the camera man to look up at the weeping lord who kept his eyes closed and mouth pressed together in a hopeless attempt to quell the sobs threading to escape his knotted throat.

What if I say that he can't drink tea without suddenly hearing his father's voice feom the past echo in his ears causing him to drop the cup and splutter on the tea before it turns to the worst hallucination ever; the tea started to burn his mouth and cook in his throat, his helpless spluttering doing nothing to cease the pain throbbing in his neck while the haunting scolding of his youth played in his ears like a broken instrument, taunting him for his wrong doings. Eventually, the sensation of liquid had left his throat but left his mouth warmer than a stove! Suddenly exhausted, Garmadon slumped in his place, his eyes pinched tight as sweat ran down his brow: a river of stress pouring off his neck like bullets. It took him a minute to calm - if he was calm at - all before he could straighten his poor posture to let in a gasp of a breath. Wu would tell him what to do.. if tea could not fix him, wu could. Wu was like tea in that regard; he would always be the ghost of their father..

Made what if I said that I have nothing more.. not now, at least. So, you've won, Green. You've won. <3

yeah? and what if i said garmadon has nerve damage and is partially deaf from where he was struck by lightning during his battle with wu?? what then???

[clockworkreapers]

Cy def stole that cig from him. Sauron is not impressed

[tomfrogisblue]

was watching sykkuno's vod of the fruit mountain tournament coz I didn't catch his pov and man, somehow my man Pactw was really like hi nice to meet you my favourite person on the qsmp is Fitmc