#voila watches movies ₊ ˚ ✩

[madamvoila]

this movie was so beautiful, but i'm not gonna lie, i need someone to please explain the storyline 😭

[kai3057]

hey gang! just learned it’s not normal to be scared all the time :/ sounds fake imo…

[dailytraingirl]

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS??.???.??!,!,!!!”,!!

omg i can up with this brilliant thing earlier where i kept comparing todd and neil to peanut butter and jelly like omg

idk abt you guys but these images look pretty much the same to me

(neil is jelly and todd is peanut butter) (they belong together)

[madebycloud]

Love to Keep Me Warm

tara carpenter x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you spend christmas with your girlfriend warnings/themes: baking (burned) cookies, dancing around the kitchen (cliche but… I WANTTT), watching holiday movies, kissing under the mistletoe, matching pjs & sweaters, cuddles, and… a little bit suggestive convo at the end i guess??? words: 1.2k

me posting another fic then dipping for month/s 🏃💨 —divider not mine

Hallelujah, it's almost Christmas! the TV announces as the snow falls outside your window.

In the living room, a towering christmas tree stands, adorned with twinkling lights and sparkly ornaments. The smell of baked cookies wafts through the air, but the aroma is not as appetizing as you'd hoped.

Tara, standing beside you, looks at the black-burned cookies with wide eyes. “I followed the instructions, but these cookies are ruined! I waited 12 minutes for this?! It says 12 minutes!”

You sigh, knowing your girlfriend's cooking skills all too well.

“We tried, didn't we?” she mumbles, still staring at the burnt cookies.

With a smile, you say, “Let's give it another shot,” taking the pan and dumping the burnt cookies into the trash, ready to give it another shot. “Who knows, maybe a second time's the charm?” You pulled a new mixing bowl out of the cabinet and grabbed ingredients to start over.

“I don't understand why this keeps happening,” she says with a laugh. “I swear, I've never made a good batch of cookies in my life.”

“Well, you know what they say—the best cookies are the ones that come out of the oven, burnt to a crisp,” you joke, trying to cheer her up.

“Ha ha, very funny,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But what do you think went wrong this time?” 

“I'm thinking we might need to switch up the oven temperature,” you say, turning down the thermostat. “A lower temperature could be the key to perfect cookies.”

She nods in agreement, and the two of you continue working together on the cookie madness, having a laugh and chatting it up while mixing, rolling, baking, and waiting for the cookies to finish.

“Hold up a minute,” you say, grabbing your phone. You browse your spotify christmas playlist for the perfect tune. “Christmas simply wouldn't be complete without these Christmas bangers.” You placed your phone on the counter.

You dance around the kitchen in matching pajamas and your matching ugly christmas sweaters, giggling and singing along to the christmas playlist. You dip her and spin her around, making her laugh hysterically. You both twirl and prance, bumping into each other like two drunken elves at a company party.

You're having so much fun that you completely forgot about the cookies until the timer went off. The two of you rushed to the oven, excited to see how the cookies turned out. When you opened the oven, you were delighted to see perfectly golden-brown cookies. They smell heavenly, and you can't wait to taste them.

“Ahhhh, this is the best Christmas ever!" Tara exclaims, picking up the first cookie and taking a bite out of it. “I think Santa is going to love these cookies,” she giggles.

“They're perfect.” You take another bite, licking the chocolate chips off your finger with a satisfied smirk. She gives you a small kiss on the cheek and then takes another bite of her cookie.

“Oh, we have to decorate these.” She grabs a green frosting tube and squirts it recklessly onto the first cookie.

You laugh and join in, squirting red, yellow, blue, and other colors onto the cookies until they are covered head to toe in messy frosting. 

“We need to add sprinkles!” Together, you run to the cupboard and rifle through the bags of sprinkles, trying to find the perfect ones.

After a few minutes of frantic searching, you come up with a variety of glittery, sparkly, and edible colors that you toss all over the cookies. 

“Voila!” Tara says, holding up a cookie for you to see. 

“These are the most horrible, beautiful christmas cookies ever.” you say as you examine the colorful, messy, and probably delicious masterpiece.

“You know what would make this even better? Some hot chocolate,” she says, grabbing a pot.

You both grab a mug and fill it up with hot chocolate. The steam rises from the cups, and the fragrance of chocolate fills the air.

“To another year of cookie disasters,” Tara says, raising her mug.

“To cookie disasters,” you reply, clinking mugs.

—

At last, you two finished cleaning the kitchen. The counters are empty, the dishes are washed and dried, and the oven is turned off. 

“Looks like everything was a success,” Tara says, admiring the clean kitchen.

You pick up the cookies and hot chocolate, inviting her to join you on the plush couch.

You sit on the couch with blankets wrapped around you, hot chocolate in hand, and cookies on the coffee table.

“Let's see what we have on Christmas eve.” She reached for the remote and flipped through the channels, eventually finding a holiday movie to watch.

Snuggled under the blanket, you sip your hot chocolate and eat your cookies. The movie is heartwarming, and you both feel your stress melt away.

“You know, I've always wanted to spend Christmas like this,” she says, leaning her head against your shoulder.

You smile and wrap your arm around her, pulling her close to you. “Yeah, me too,” you say, kissing her on the forehead.

You glance at her, trying to hide the shy smile on your face. 

She quirks her eyebrow at you, her full lips curving into a playful smile. “What?” Her hand sliding onto your arm and pulling you closer. “Are you admiring the scenery?” 

You quickly stand up, pretending to check something in the kitchen. You can feel Tara's eyes on you, waiting to see what you're up to. 

When you return, you're holding something behind your back that Tara can't quite identify. You sit next to her and reach behind her head, placing something on top of both of your heads. A mistletoe.

“You really know how to surprise me.”

She leans in, placing her finger on your jaw and pulling you closer until your lips meet hers. The warm, sweet taste of a mix of chocolate and marshmallows fills your mouth.

With your free hand, you reach behind her head, pulling her closer to you. She wraps her arms around your neck, bringing you even closer.

Your noses touch as your lips stay locked together, and the warmth of each other's breath sends shivers down your spine.

Tara pulls away, breathless and flushed. You both sit there, stunned, savoring the moment and the feeling of being so close to each other.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “You know what would make this evening even better?” She asks you with a sly grin.

“What? Are you hungry for more already?” you respond with a laugh.

She stands up and walks to the entrance of the bedroom. Reaching the doorway, she looks back at you, arching an eyebrow as if she's daring you to follow her.

Before you know it, you're following her into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click, shutting out the rest of the world.

But you're greeted by the unexpected sight of Tara peacefully sleeping in bed. You can't help but let out a disappointed sigh.

She sees you standing over her then gives you a mischievous grin. “What? Were you expecting something?”

You shake your head. “No, no, I just thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I thought we were going to…” you begin to say before trailing off. 

“Oh, you thought wrong,” Tara says, throwing back the covers and inviting you to join her.

She opens her arms wide and smiles at you, inviting you to cuddle up with her. 

“But you know what?” you say, burying yourself in the crook of her neck. “I think I prefer this.”

tara:

dsajhdahda anyways... (advance) merry christmas! <3

[11queensupreme11]

Hello, how do the Yanderes react when they find out that Percy became a child of about 5 or 6 years old? I ask this because according to them, Percy was born as a teenager.

this is a lil complicated to explain, but percy was not born as a "teenager" to them, but with the appearance of a fully grown goddess. they just treated her like a baby, because she technically was despite her appearance. plus, she definitely didn't have the perfect mannerisms of a fully grown goddess, so there was that too. she was a "baby".

the concept of "teenage-hood" didn't exist in ancient times. back then, you go from child to adult. there's no in-between like we do now. when ppl reached puberty (for girls this would be when they have their first period), you were automatically deemed an adult!

(also, if you go back to chapter 7 to the apollo scene, i even wrote a short discussion about this where the nymphs of apollo's harem had no idea what a "teenager" was and they laugh about it since it's another "silly concept" humans made lol)

BUT ANYWAY

poseidon would absolutely horde his daughter in his palace. no one is allowed to ever speak of what happened because he knows the other yans would try to snatch her, or worse, his annoying mother would take her cuz she's obsessed with babies 💀💀 he'd spend every second with his daughter lmao, he'd carry her around, pinch and squish her cheeks, watch her sleep, etc. but he'd be so paranoid. it was already hard enough trying to be gentle in handling his daughter in her og form, but now that she was even smaller and weaker and frailer???? he's working EXTRA hard to be as careful as possible

hades would do the same! he'd put the entire palace on lockdown, all phones would be confiscated, and any other methods of communication (whether it be telepathy, letters, etc) would strictly be forbidden within his palace walls. he does NOT want to risk the news of percy's transformation spreading around. he'd have so much fun doting on her; conjuring up dolls and tea party sets, letting her play with cerberus (tho he has to shrink him tho). he'd abandon all his kingly duties just to play silly games with her 😭

you know how little kids are always asking the most annoying and random questions ever because their curiosity is just never-ending??? well, beelzebub actually wouldn't mind it! he's a genius so he has proper answers to pretty much anything percy can ask! would her tiny child brain understand a single thing? nope! but that's fine cuz he can answer her questions within a question too! the only issue he has is bedtimes when she requests a bedtime story and he has.... none. nor is he creative enough to think of story to give to a child 💀💀💀

SHE WOULD HAVE A BLAST WITH ANUBIS LMAO. he's basically a mix between a babysitter and a playmate all rolled into one 😂😂😂 the best part is that while the other yans wouldn't bother letting her do mortal stuff like watching human tv shows and movies or buying mortal-made dolls, anubis would happily do those with her! he already lets kebi have whatever she wants after all, spoiling another little girl is easy peasy! she wants to listen to watch "the little mermaid"? he has no clue wtf that is, but he'll get the theater room ready! she wants a mermaid barbie? voila, he's already got it summoned in his hand!

apollo's another excellent babysitter! sure he'll keep her locked up within the confines of delos island, but that's fine cuz he always keeps her happy and entertained with all kinds of things to do!!!! he'll show off his cool skills on the lyre and teach her how to play. oh, she likes drawings??? he has an art room!!!! he'll probably get really really concerned when she starts drawing big and scary monsters and gets even MORE worried when he asks about it and she says "oh, this one was following me once when i was waiting for mommy to pick me up from school. and this one kept trying to lure me away with candy" 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

loki's probably the one who makes her cry first 💀 not on purpose, he's just excited okay???? knowing him, he'd probably take her out to explore some cool spot he used to let his kids play at, but instead of teleporting there, he'd pick her up and fly there which makes her panic and cry because of how high up they were. might even drop her on accident because of how much she's moving around. he catches her ofc, but now she's traumatized. oops 💀

cú chulainn would be another one who would make her cry 😭😭😭 he is absolutely clueless on how to deal with children, little girls especially. so he just tries to keep her locked up inside the palace for her own safety, but even THAT was a safety hazard cuz she keeps getting into danger 😭😭 he once saw her climb up the kitchen counter with a wobbly chair and nearly fell over until he caught her. then he saw her trip over an upturned part of the rug and now she's got a bruise on her head. saw her try to reach into the fireplace out of curiosity. etc etc. she just can't keep fucking STILL for once. why can't she just stay inside a room and play dolls or whatever?! he probably loses his shit after saving her for the 1364176th time and snaps at her to just keep still only to panic when she starts BAWLING 💀💀💀💀

[ambiguous-avery]

Figure You Out

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 671

Summary: Dean doesn’t care for the latest guy you’ve been seeing.

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, fluff, jealous!Dean, hurt/comfort, no beta we die like men

Now Playing: Figure You Out by Voila

A/N: This is such a nostalgic reminder of where I started when it came to writing. All of my initial stories were songfics. So as a nod back to my roots, have a drabble heavily inspired by the song above. Title comes from the song.

Dean Winchester wasn’t a jealous man. 

He didn’t deserve good things, so there was no reason for him to be envious over things he knew he couldn’t have. So when you started seeing whatever that chucklefuck’s name was, he didn’t care. You seemed happy, and that’s all that mattered. 

The first time you came home wearing a fancy little gold necklace Chucklefuck had given you, Dean’s jaw had tightened, and he couldn’t help but think about how he knew you preferred silver. It was a completely rational preference. Silver had more practical uses than gold. Any hunter in their right might would want to keep a solid piece of silver with them, and you were one of the most reasonable hunters he had met. You had toyed with the pendant on the end of the chain – what even was it? A bird? Didn’t matter. It was decidedly the worst gift Chucklefuck could’ve gotten you. A silver necklace with a cross as the pendant would’ve been your preference. Beautiful but still practical. Just like you.

He figured that it wouldn’t last long. You never brought him around to the bunker which meant you weren’t really interested in him. Dean wagered that you’d be sick of him by the third date. 

That was four dates ago.

Dean ran a hand over his face, pacing back and forth in his room. You had come back from your date just in time to join him and Sam for dinner, and of course Sam had to ask how it went. Chucklefuck had taken you to a fancy movie theater with reclining chairs to see some new romantic comedy that had just come out. Even as you smiled while you spoke about it, Dean knew that that wasn’t at all what you liked. You and him had spent several nights in the Dean Cave watching back to back B-horror films, all the while you were giggling beside him at the low-budget special effects. It was like Chucklefuck didn’t even know you.

 Didn’t know how you liked to play roulette with a diner menu and pick a meal at random to “keep life exciting,” as if life as a hunter wasn’t exciting enough. Didn’t know that you preferred lever action rather than pump action guns simply because they made you feel “more badass.” Didn’t know that you would prefer a cold beer to a glass of wine any day because “grapes taste better when they’re sweet.”

He hated it.

So when you came back to the bunker one evening, eyes red from crying, Dean was ready to go after some kneecaps.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“No, it’s fine, Dean,” you said, moving to push past him and into the kitchen. He caught you in his arms, pulling you close. “He and I are done.”

“I told you he didn’t deserve you,” he mumbled, holding you tightly against his chest. You sniffled and trembled in his grasp, and he held you tighter.

“Just let it be. It’s fine,” you repeated.

“No, he’s a goddamn prick who has no idea what he just gave up!” 

You pushed against him, leaning back slightly to look him in the eye. 

“He didn’t end it. I did.” Dean frowned slightly.

“Why’s that?”

“He wasn’t–” you cleared your throat. “I was setting unrealistic standards. It wasn’t fair to him, constantly comparing him to someone he could never be.”

“And… who were you comparing him to?” Dean asked slowly. He searched your face for something – anything – that might have given him a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his name was somewhere on your tongue. There was an awkward beat of silence between the two of you. 

“You, Dean.” His name tumbled from your lips, loaded with more than he could ever let himself dream about. He kissed you, soft and sweet and gentle. You melted into his touch, and Dean allowed himself to believe for just a fleeting moment that maybe he was allowed one good thing in the world.

---

Thank you for reading, please feel free to leave a like, comment, or reblog! I would be forever grateful! 💜💜💜

[evermourning]

han jisung x reader | wc: 0.9k | genre: hurt/comfort, sick!fic, highly self-indulgent | warnings: mentions of illness, mentions of anxiety, non-sexual nudity, language, NOT PROOFREAD | a/n: i couldn't find a jiji sickfic so i wrote my own. voila bitches

when you called jisung to let him know you were sick, he dropped everything in his possessions to scramble home to you. it was an odd sight for chan and changbin - they'd been going over an upcoming song that needed a little more reworking on the outro when jisung's phone buzzed. he held it up to his ear, a quiet "hi, jagiya" just barely leaving his lips.

the two men with him watched with equal amazement as his eyes widened. jisung hung up almost instantly, shoving his things into his bag and dashing out of the studio. incredulously, they stared at each other for a moment or two before getting back to work.

jisung arrived home in record speed, out of breath as he stepped into your shared apartment. there you were, curled up on the sofa almost pitifully, a trash can filled to the brim with used tissues beside you.

when you saw him, your eyes were watery and you hugged yourself tighter. in that very moment, the world around jisung stopped. all that mattered was you. he came closer to you, wary of your sickness but prepared to toss caution aside if you needed him that badly.

"i'm so useless," you spat, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. you were shivering- or were you trembling? jisung didn't know. he wasn't a doctor. "i can't even keep myself from getting sick, and at such an important time too. hell, i can't even perform basic tasks. i'm achy as shit."

his heart rate quickened. he didn't want to let you down, ever. but what if he did? his anxiety was threatening to take hold of him, its dark tendrils peeking out of every nook and cranny in his body. he forced himself to remain calm. his most important mission was helping you.

taking a deep breath to ground himself, jisung knelt down beside you, looking up at you with his large, dark eyes.

"hey, look at me. you didn't do anything wrong, okay? you just got sick. that's not your fault at all. how about you go get ready to take a nice, hot shower, and i'll get you something to eat. then, once those two things are done, we can watch a movie together."

you nodded, hesitant, and slowly made your way to the bedroom, a fleece blanket still tightly wrapped around you. once you had disappeared, jisung pulled out his phone and called minho.

"hi, min? can you do me a huge favor? i'll pay you back for this, i promise. you're a better cook than i am, so could you make a batch of chicken noodle soup? thank you so much, man. i owe you."

minho could never turn down a plea from his best friend, and he heard the worry hanging upon every word. he immediately got to work on the soup.

meanwhile, jisung reunited with you in the bathroom, where you were testing the shower's water to make sure it was hot. sure enough, the room was becoming steamy, perfect for your congested nose. you began to undress, but stopped when you noticed jisung's shirt was peculiarly on the ground.

"ji, what are you doing?" you asked, stepping back. he gave you a soft smile, causing your heart to flutter.

"i'm showering with you. you said it yourself: you feel so achy you can't perform mundane tasks. let me help you, please." he tried to take your hands in his, but you pulled them back.

"but if you get sick, it'll...it'll all be my fault. you're on an important schedule." he scoffed at your words.

"i'd rather be sick so you could take care of me. you'll owe me, won't you? now let's get in the shower...i don't want the bill to get any higher!" he finally grabbed you, helping you out of your clothes and into the shower.

"that's because you hold full-on concerts in here, doofus." you grumbled. usually, whenever you showered with him, jisung did not wait to make suggestive comments about you. but this time, all that escaped from his lips were soft, loving words of praise. you truly brought out the best in him.

you stood there, your legs ready to give out on you at any moment, knowing that jisung would catch you. the feeling of his soft, soapy hands carefully massaging your scalp was tranquil. he helped wash every inch of your body, his eyes never leaving yours.

it was endearing, you reminded yourself, how jisung knew the risks of helping you. he had a career where he needed to be healthy all the time. but in this very moment, it was just you and him. no obstacles or fears were there to harm you. you knew moments like these were finite, tangible only until your brain was weary with forget. you were determined to keep this memory forever. to tell jisung when he needed a story to cheer him up, and maybe even to tell to your own children someday.

by the time minho arrived with the soup, you were sound asleep on the couch, in your favorite pajamas and tucked carefully into the blanket. your head was in jisung's lap, and his eyes were filled to the very brim with devotion.

he wished you could stay here, beside him, until his final moments.

@evermourning, ©2023. all rights reserved.

[mongoosingisme]

Title: Operation: Doctor Support

Series: Sticking the Landing (see fic Masterlist for additional parts)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Relationship: Harvey/fem!Reader

Summary: The doctor spent all his time looking after other people. It was about time someone did something for him.

Read on AO3

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Read below

Harvey looked tired.

You noticed it at the saloon as you were finishing a beer. It’d been a long day. Long week. Long month? It was all blurring together. Hauling pumpkins, seeing to the cows, chopping wood because winter was just around the corner. You earned your beer, is the thing.

Harvey looked like he’d earned a dozen.

He was the closest thing you had to a friend here in Stardew Valley. You’d bonded over being from elsewhere, over loving good coffee, over shared tastes in movies (Jackie Chan, of all things). Mostly it was just nice to know that when you got a little over-enthusiastic with the scythe you could trust the person who was patching you up. Dependable Harvey, always there to lend a hand.

You were glad you didn’t need any help that night, though, watching him in his booth. He was leaning over a bowl of pumpkin soup, head in a hand, eyes shadowed. His hair was messier than usual, tie crooked.

“How’s it going?” you said by way of greeting as you slid in across from him.

“Oh, hello there.” He seemed to brighten a bit upon seeing you, which sparked a bit of warmth in his stomach. “Just trying to get a meal in before I get back at it.”

“Back at what? It’s 7pm.”

“Audit.” He grimaced.

“Audit? Doctors get audited?”

“Doctors get audited. Gotta make sure all the billing codes are…” he waved a hand, trying to find the word.

“Up to code?”

He smiled. Score one for your bad jokes. “Exactly. I have to get reports together for tomorrow afternoon, but I had some last minute appointments come up for tomorrow morning, and Maru’s been out for a few days, and then there’s cold and flu season starting to ramp up, so…” he waved his hand again.

“Busy Harvey?”

“Busy Harvey.” He let a long breath. “But, needs must and all. So I better get back to it.” He started to get up.

“Aren’t you going to finish your soup?”

He shrugged. “Not that hungry. Enjoy your evening.” You watched him get up and leave. Or at least try to. Marnie stopped him halfway to the door, waved him over, showed him something on her arm. Was she… was she asking him to look at a mole?

As much as you admired his willingness to stop and chat, you couldn’t shake a flash of annoyance. The doctor spent all his time looking after other people. It was about time someone did something for him.

—————

Operation: Doctor Support launched a few days later. It was late Saturday afternoon. You’d finished your scheduled chores (and a dozen more besides), taken a shower, dressed comfortably, and assembled your toolkit.

One jar of pickles.

One container of homemade curry chicken soup (your specialty).

One loaf of sourdough bread.

One bottle of blueberry wine.

One DVD (Drunken Master, obviously).

One knit hat. You hand knit it. It looked… hand knit. But you’d tried, dammit.

You pulled your kit together in a bag and headed towards town.

Twenty minutes later you were gazing up at Harvey’s apartment. The door to the clinic was locked, and you didn’t see him in the saloon or Pierre’s. You were contemplating picking up a pebble to throw at his window when you heard a familiar voice.

“Good afternoon!” It was Harvey, coming back from a walk if his reddened cheeks were any indication (it was a cold day, even for November).

“Just the man I’m looking for. Voila!” You brandished the bag.

“Fernald’s Country Store,” he said slowly, reading the words on the outside of the tote.

“No, no, it’s inside the bag. Let me up, I’ll show you.”

“Fair enough.”

The walk seemed to have done Harvey good. His eyes seemed a little brighter than when you last saw him, at least. He unlocked the clinic and you led the way to his apartment.

It was a space you were comfortable with, having been there several times in the past to watch movies and drink coffee. With the late afternoon darkening it was hard to see, but you knew where to feel for the light switch.

Moving past the bookshelves and a line of model planes, you made for the kitchen. Harvey followed, a slightly amused look on his face.

“You’re a lady on a mission.”

“I am! Announcing Operation: Doctor Support!”

“Operation… what?”

But you were too busy unpacking, showcasing each item as you pulled it out of the bag, doing your best gameshow announcer voice. “We have…. A bottle of wine! A jar of pickles! A loaf of bread! A container of soup! A DVD! And a hat.” You dropped the affect for the last one. The hat looked particularly mediocre in the fluorescent kitchen light. You looked up at him. “I made you a hat.”

Harvey looked back at you, lips slightly parted. “You made me… a hat?”

“Um, yes.”

“And you brought me dinner?”

“And a movie,” you added helpfully. You couldn’t quite read his tone.

“And a movie,” he repeated, stepping closer to the items you had fanned out on the counter. He reached for the hat first. Rubbed the wool between his fingers. Picked it up and settled it on his head. It didn’t look so bad, with his brown waves springing out from beneath it. “No one’s ever made me a hat before.”

“I’m glad I got to be your first.” You noticed the slightest tinge of a blush on his cheeks, though that may have been left over from his walk.

“Thank you.” He said. “Really. Thank you. What brought all this on?”

You shrug. “You seemed like you could use a little taking care of.”

And before you could register the movement, Harvey’s arms were around you, wrapping you in a hug. You did what you could to hug him back, but with the way he was trapping your arms by your side the best you could do was pat the curve of his back. “Thank you,” he said again, voice the slightest bit tight. You could feel his breath soft on the side of your face.

You didn’t move, just stayed there, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you, the faint scent of something clean and woodsy coming from his sweater. He was warm, solid, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose into the side of his neck. Just a little.

“You’re welcome, Harvey. You deserve it.”

He took in a deep, slightly shaky breath, then let you go. For a second you wished he didn’t, but then shook yourself. Clapped your hands. “Right. Dinner. You go sit down and relax while I get this heated up!”

“Aye aye, captain,” he responded with a mock salute. He was still wearing the hat as he settled in on the couch.

Dinner was easy to heat up, and you were pleased with how the soup came out. You started the movie while you ate, turning down the lights, sharing bits of trivia as Jackie Chan stumbled around his enemies. It was so comfortable, then, to lean against him on the couch in the semi-darkness, both of you holding a glass of wine. He put his arm on the back of the couch as you leaned against his chest.

You could feel his heart beating, faster than you would think it would.

And it made you wonder about phase two of Operation: Doctor Support.

Phase two was optional, only if it seemed right. It might change things a little, you knew. It was a little risky, but some things were worth the risk.

Some things like the doctor next to you, whose nose was very subtly, very gently rubbing against your hair.

Okay. That’s going to count as a green light. Let’s do this.

You placed your wine glass on the side table. Took Harvey’s and set it down too. He looked at you a little startled at your unexpected movement, but oh boy, you were just getting started. You rolled up onto your knees, swung a leg over his, and settled, facing him, into his lap.

His hands came up automatically to hold your hips, then just as quickly left them. “I… what?”

“Commence phase two,” you said, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

At first he didn’t move, just made a slightly choked sound and your stomach sank. Shit. Should have just stuck with the hat. But then his hand was on the side of your face and he was kissing you back. Soft, gentle presses of his lips against yours. His thumb traced along your cheekbone as you pressed your mouth into his, humming contentedly.

“Are you… are… really?” he breathed as you broke the kiss.

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“If I… hah,” he laughed softly, leaning his head back against the couch. You took the opportunity to press a kiss to the pulse point you could see thrumming on the side of his neck. He gasped, hips bucking up against yours just a little, hand moving back into your hair. “I… I certainly wouldn’t say I minded.”

“Good, now let me take care of you.”

There was no mistaking the low groan he made at that, or the way his lap was shifting under you. You set in properly this time, rising up on your knees to reach his mouth again. This time you parted your lips, felt yourself clenching slightly at the way he opened for you easily, moaning softly as you slicked into his mouth. His mustache tickled at your nose as you kissed him, and his hands had found their way back to your hips. They rested there loosely, not pushing, just holding as you delved deeper into him.

He tasted like blueberry wine.

You broke the kiss with a soft nip to his lower lip. “How are you feeling?”

“A little stunned, but good, good, definitely very good,” and now his hand was in your hair, pulling you back to him, and that was absolutely the kind of response you were looking for. You hummed into the kiss, trying to fight your pleased smile as he licked into you. You wiggled in his lap and enjoyed the way he hissed through his nose.

The bulge you could feel under your thighs didn’t hurt either.

“Good is good,” you gasp, breaking away again, “but we’re going for excellent. Here.” You removed his hand from your hair, dragged it down to your breast.

“That…” he gasped. “That certainly elevates things.” And before you could respond, before you could realize, really, what was going on, you were on your back and Harvey, dear, sweet, gentle, reliable Doctor Harvey was raised up over you, propped up on one elbow, one leg tucked between your thighs.

“Oh,” was all you could think to say.

Harvey didn’t say anything. He was too busy laving your neck with his tongue, leaving soft, gentle bites while his fingers worked over your breast, gently teasing your rapidly hardening nipple.

Well that… that’s not how the operation was supposed to go. But Yoba, it felt good, his body heavy over you, his teeth and tongue scraping over your neck, the soft sounds he made as he worked. You pulled the hat off his head, ran your fingers through his hair, held him there.

In your mind he had stayed put, letting you slowly work down his body before finishing with the best damn blow job he’d ever been given. But now the opposite was happening, he was kissing down onto your chest now and fuck, if this wasn’t so, so much better. You couldn’t help but cry out as he mouthed at your nipple through your shirt. He looked up quickly at the sound. Even in the dim light of the TV, even through his glasses you could see that his eyes were blown dark.

“Is it… is that okay? Is this alright?”

“Harvey, it’s fucking perfect,” you say. He grinned, shockingly boyish, and why had you never done this before? You pulled off his glasses, set them back in the side table behind you, and guided his mouth back down. He went eagerly, fingers now working up beneath your shirt, mouth now over your other breast, mouthing and teasing. You felt it in your core, the way his fingers traced over your stomach, the sounds he made as he nuzzled you, and why is this stupid shirt on anyway?

You did your best to wiggle it up over your torso, bralette too, Harvey helping as soon as he realized what you were doing. After he tossed the clothing aside he paused for a second, looking down at you.

“You’re… Yoba.” He let out a shaky laugh. “This is not how I expected my evening to go”

“Me either.”

He drew back slightly. “What do you mean?”

You wound your arm up around his shoulder, pulled him back down onto you. His lips brushed the side of your neck. “You were supposed to sit still and let me do all this for you.”

“What,” he asked, hand now cupping your breast, “makes you think that this isn’t for me?”

You didn’t have a good answer for that. Didn’t have a good answer for anything, really, because his hand was wandering lower and all rational thought had left your brain.

Was he… fuck, yes he was. He stopped at the waistband of your leggings, traced a finger along the edge. You felt him swallow against your neck. “Can… can I?”

“Yes, yup, absolutely, one hundred percent,” you respond, fighting the urge to grab his hand and guide it down for him. “Just, wait, here.” You grabbed at the sweater he was wearing instead, tried to get it up over his head. He maneuvered, helping to take it off the rest of the way (so helpful, that Harvey), then settled back down on top of you.

You couldn’t help but sigh, wiggle your hips as his warm chest nestled back against yours. His chest was broad, arms just a little thicker than what you could see under his usual suit jacket. Curly hair dusted down over his softly rounded stomach, down to where his belt cut across his hips.

“You feel nice,” you said.

“So do you.” He hummed into your neck.

The couch wasn’t particularly wide, but you were making it work, nestled between the doctor and the cushions. His hand was back on your stomach, drifting lower as you ran your fingers over his shoulders and dropped kisses on the top of his head. His fingers traced the top of your leggings - again - the light touch making your lower stomach clench. You realized you were growing wet, could feel it as you shifted your hips back and forth, and okay, this was supposed to be your show, right? Let’s get it on the road.

You placed your hand over Harvey’s, guided it down under your leggings and underwear, pressed down on his middle finger to run it through your folds.

“Fuck,” he gasped. You could feel his hips thrust, that hard bulge against your legs, once, twice. “Fuck, you’re… fuck.” And he didn’t need any more guidance, seemed perfectly happy to be running the pad of his fingers up and down your sex. The lack of resistance, the way his fingers slipped - shit, okay, clearly phase two absolutely needed this step, what were you thinking, because he was shuddering just a bit as he pressed his face into your neck. And the way his breaths were coming, slightly choked?

Yoba.

“I want to make you come.” He said it so softly, mustache tickling the side of your neck. “Can I make you come?”

What a ridiculously sweet thing to ask as his fingers were already stroking over your folds. “I don’t think there’s much question about it at this point,” you said. “Don’t stop.”

He huffed into your neck, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and his fingers were focusing more on your clit, tiny circles but it wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t get the right angle with your leggings trapping his hand. “Let me just-“ you start, but he was right there with you, helping you pull them down and off. From there it was easy to throw a leg up over his hip as he curled back around you.

His fingers were back, then, back and moving, sending coils of tension up through your core. He set about his work with purpose, as it seemed he set about most things. Tracing his fingers up and down the side of your clit, stopping when he hit a point that made your hips buck up.

“Right there, he whispered, “that’s it, right there.” And holy shit, how could you respond to that when he’d discovered a direct line from your clit through your core to the rest of your body? Those tiny circles again, the lightest pressure, the curls of pleasure spreading through your thighs, your stomach, your shoulders. You could feel your self getting wetter now, slipperier as his fingers worked against you.

And from there it wasn’t long before you were rising, hips straining, mouth open in a wordless cry as his fingers, his hand, his breath against your neck was too much. You stayed tensed there, muscles straining, orgasm rocketing through you as those fingers kept rubbing, kept circling, kept drawing you up and up and up, tense and sweet and endless, Yoba, it was endless, that tension, until finally it broke, letting you down, warm and soft and deep through your belly and you were through, hips relaxing, shoulders boneless as you melted back into the couch.

Holy shit.

Harvey’s fingers had slowed, stopped. His hand cupped your sex. “Alright?”

You covered your face with a hand. Laughed. “Alright? Are you joking? I am so much better than alright!” He laughed into your neck. You swat him gently on the shoulder. “That was supposed to be for you!”

“Again,” he said. “What makes you think this wasn’t for me?”

Yoba, this man.

But no. You were a lady on a mission, and if you were the type to take half-measures you’d still be sitting in a cubicle. “Okay,” you said. “Move.”

“Move?” You were shaking off the post-orgasm slack, wiggling out from under him, helping him haul his body up to sitting, sliding down to the floor, enjoying the sound he made as you ghosted your hand over the bulge near his crotch. You could see it there, outlined against his jeans, and fuck if the sight didn’t make you more determined than ever. You knelt there for a moment, palm pressed against that bulge, rubbing softly through the denim.

You could see his belly rising, even as you focused on his crotch. Could hear him taking in breaths, choking slightly on the exhale. Could feel his hand rest gently on the side of your neck, lift back up, settle back in again.

“You don’t… you don’t have to…”

“Harvey,” you said, looking up at him. His head was leaning back on the couch, but there was no question he was watching you. Lips parted, chest rising. “Let me look after you. Just for a bit. Please.”

He closed his lips. Nodded. Stroked his thumb down your cheek. “Thank you.”

You smiled up at him, resting your hand on his belt buckle. “What makes you think this isn’t for me?”

He huffed again, that sound of his, that laugh and groan, and lifted his hips as you unbuckled, unzipped, guided his pants and boxers down around his feet, leaving his cock to spring free.

If you’d been in a more coherent frame of mind you would have reflected on the sight, the incongruity of seeing the doctor, always so polished, shirts ironed and tie done up tight, splayed out for you like that. Cock pulsing, wet around the tip, thick and long and utterly perfect. The way his head was leaning back again on the sofa, huffing breaths between pursed lips, looking tense and needy and exactly the opposite of the brisk and efficient man you knew.

But you weren’t in a coherent state of mind, so the only thing you thought was “yum.”

You watched a small pearl of precum leak from the head of his cock.

You licked it away. Salty and hot.

Harvey hissed.

You licked again, running your tongue around his head, closed your lips around the tip, circling. You could feel his hand touch your hair as you did it, touch and let go. You grabbed at it, anchored it down onto your head. Grinned to yourself as he choked out another moan, hips bucking up an inch and then grounding back down.

Show time.

You’d be lying if you said that you were the most seasoned giver of head, but based on Harvey’s reactions you doubted that was much of an issue. You grasped the base of his cock, squeezed gently, then with a little more pressure as he moaned. Loosening your jaw as best as you could (he wasn’t a small man, that doctor, and his cock was certainly proportional), you slid your lips down, hollowing your cheeks, meeting the top off your fist.

Harvey’s fingers were in your hair properly now, carding through the strands, not pushing you down but holding you there, holding on as you drew your mouth up and down his cock. You could feel the strain in his hips, tiny little jerks upwards, tensing as he held himself back. You wanted to tell him to go for it, to buck and move however he wanted, but his cock was so good, so heavy and hot and delicious in your mouth that you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go.

So you did what you could to work him deeper. Sucking him in further, grasping with your thumb and two fingers now, relishing the hitch in his hips, the way his fingers tightened, the sounds he was making low in his throat. The tiny thrusts growing less measured, most staccato, off kilter and speeding up. He was tasting saltier as you tried to work him farther back into your mouth, suddenly desperate to know what he’d feel like hitting the back of your throat. You relaxed as much as you could, let yourself fall down into him, gusting through your nose as you welcomed him back, back, further, deeper -

And all of his sudden his hands were clenching into your hair, pulling you up a your mouth flooded with warm, thick, salty release. You’d fully intended to swallow what he gave you, but he was pulling you off of him as he came, hand joining your fingers on his cock, pumping once, twice as he came onto your chin and open mouth.

The sound he made was exactly what you’d been hoping for. Low, wrecked. His fingers working through your hair as you felt him loosen, melt back into the couch.

You looked him in the eye. Ran a finger up your chin to collect the thick spend dripping there. Pushed it in your mouth and swallowed.

“Yoba,” he rasped, “Yoba, you’re… fuck, you’re incredible. Fuck.” And it was easy, then, to follow the press of his hands, now under your arms, pulling you up to him. Straddle his legs again, feeling his cock, still hot and wet and heavy, under your thighs. Let him wrap his arms around you, kiss you deeply, tasting himself on you.

“How are you feeling now?” You asked as you broke this kiss.

“Indescribable,” was his breathless response.

And as you relaxed into his arms you decided that your mission was very much a success.

[fushipurro]

Merry Christmas

☆ Content: sfw (with some nsfw undertones), pet names, established relationship, domestic fluff

☆ Notes: the one who left it all behind and his overwhelming jolliness

"toji, can you hold this part for me, please?"

"do we really need all these lights and shit strung up everywhere?" he scoffed, doing as you asked nonetheless with one hand while the other hovered near your back.

something about you and ladders forms a bottomless pit in his stomach but he won't dare take the smile beaming from your face.

"uh, yeah we do? it's our first christmas together as a couple, i want to make it extra special!"

"it's already special with you here."

you leaned down and planted a kiss on the man's forehead, his ears dusting pink in surprise.

"i love you, toji, but you're going to get a full decked out holiday celebration."

"if it makes you happy, but can you at least let me do this?" he furrowed his eyebrows, watching you move the step stool everywhere there was a blank spot in need of holiday cheer.

"no can do, we'll decorate the tree together but i don't know about your eye for decorating." you teased, looking at the man with a smug expression.

he scowled, but softened when you went back to focusing on what you were doing. toji loved watching you so intently focused, the slight pinching of your brows or the twiddling of your fingers while you were debating options, the smile you made when it worked out.

all of this was a first for him, his own family had no need to celebrate just another day that served no use to them. you were shocked but expected as much when it came to the zenins, but resolved yourself to make the season special for toji.

when it came time for the tree, you had to do everything in your power to not be a bridezilla about it. toji was willing to decorate it with you, sure, but the idea that putting four of the exact same ornaments so closely together was so painful.

you snuck a few around from time to time when he wasn't watching, but still let him be creative in his own way since in the end it doesn't really matter so long as the two of you are happy.

"anything else?" he asked, looking at the nearly empty bin. his eyes led him to a small wrapping that he took into his hands.

"oh perfect, you're holding the last thing we need!"

he unwrapped it to reveal a beautiful stained glass star full of colors. "where does this go?"

"at the very top of the tree, i'll go grab the ladde─" toji's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his body.

"i have a better idea." he smirked, handing you the star while lifting you up from your hips, allowing your legs to wrap around his own. he moved closer to the tree, giving you the extra height you needed to reach the top, placing the final cherry on top.

"okay, now to just plug this here and... voila!" the tree came alive with lights and colors, brightening up the evening room in a beautiful display. "well? what do you think?"

toji took a few moments to take in the sight, leaning down to your lips to kiss you passionately. "pretty, but still doesn't come close to you, sweetheart."

"toojjjiii, you're so sweet." heat rushed to your face as you hugged the man, admiring the tree together. his hands rubbed your back up and down while he held you, looking down at your eyes that reflected the twinkling lights.

you walked over to the couch, taking the remote in hand, "now we have to watch the best christmas movie ever."

"this isn't going to be some sappy chick flick, is it?" he scowled.

"even better, and i know you'll love it."

toji plopped down on the couch next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, "yeah?"

"get ready for some die hard, baby. a christmas classic!"

"who are all these cookies for?"

of course he had to ask, the kitchen counters were consumed with several different doughs, pans and cooling racks covering every free inch.

"for us, but there will be plenty to share with others too. we've got gingerbread, chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, and my family's sugar cookie recipe."

"is that what you're working on so intently?" he asked, looking at the rolled out dough and cutouts in front of you. an array of different colors were displayed in small bowls in front of you.

toji moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on the crown of yours. you could feel the warmth coming off of him, like you were enveloped in a heating blanket that was your lover.

"it is! the icing is my favorite part, i've always loved to decorate them."

he looked down at the snowflake shape you were beginning to drizzle white icing on, "is it supposed to look like... that?"

"like what?" you questioned before quicking realizing, lightly smacking his thigh making him chuckle, "toji! don't be a perv... it'll turn more opaque when it dries."

toji began to adorn your neck with kisses, tickling you and causing the icing to splatter around your work. his fingers easing their way under the hem of your clothes.

you took the snowflake cookie and shoved it up into his mouth, "you can wait for your present, mister, i've still got plenty of baking to do."

he groaned in disapproval, but took the cookie willingly as he snagged a few more from under you. "save some of that icing for later." he winked, pressing his lips to yours before you could respond.

you laughed, "glad to see you coming around to being jolly."

"if it makes you happy, then i'm happy."

you put the bag of icing down and trotted up behind him, grabbing his wrist and turning him to face you.

"merry christmas, toji." you smiled, pointing your finger upwards. he followed your finger to see a mistletoe hanging above the two of you.

toji leaned down to meet your lips once more, pulling you into his body, "merry christmas, y/n."

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

Playing with her hair - Vada Cavell X Reader

Y/N's POV:

"Why are people in horror movies so dumb!" my girlfriend Vada complains, "Like in the real world no one is stupid enough to do ANY of this. Like, no one would even pick up the phone in the first place!"

"Uh huh," I say to the girl sprawled out across my lap and the rest of the couch, not fully paying attention to what she's saying. I'm more focused on counting her freckles. A while ago, the question of how many freckles she had started to interest me and ever since it's been hard to get the idea out of my mind.

68...

69...

70...

"Y/N/N, are you listening to me?" she asks, breaking my trance, "am I rambling again, I'm sorry."

"Don't be! You're cute when you ramble," I reassure her. She looks over at me, a huge smile creeping over her face, her beautiful brown eyes shimmering in the dim light.

"In that case, I'm gonna keep going," she tells me, "what kind of dumbass decides it's a good idea to let their younger than six year old kid go out of the house alone on a rainy day!"

"Bad ones, I guess," I say absentmindedly. We keep on watching the movie we have on, neither of us really focused on it. without even thinking of it, my hands make their way to her hair.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Messing with your hair," I admit.

"Oh my god, are we acting like a normal couple?" she gasps.

"Do you not like it?"

"No!" she exclaims, "please don't stop."

"Oh my god, can I style it?"

"As long as it's not too fancy," she insists. One of the first things I ever learned about Vada is how much she hates looking fancy. She doesn't like the tight fitting "feminine" clothing, or the way makeup feels on her face. She hates the way her hair gets tightly pulled into an uncomfortable style, and then gelled into place. What's even worse is if she has to do all three of those TOGETHER. So I'm making it a point to keep it fairly informal, but still neat. 

I run my fingers through her dark brunette locks, trying to get the various knots out.

"Ow!" that one hurt!" she squeals.

"Sorry, oh my god are you okay?" I apologize, hoping I haven't hurt her too bad.

"I guess," she says sadly.

"Will this make it better?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She looks up at me smiling, "so much better." I brush a few strands of hair out of her face before continue styling it. She climbs into my lap, facing away from me so I can better access her hair.

I start parting her hair, so that there's an even amount of it on each side of her face.

"Oh my god Beverly get out of that house!" Vada screams, practically jumping up at the television, "I swear these people are so dumb."

"Vada, baby, you need to sit slightly still for this to look good," I say softly.

"Fine," she pouts, "why is you doing this kind of relaxing?"

"Maybe I just have that effect on you," I suggest.

"No, normally you make me so excited and happy, like a little kid seeing a bunch of candy and a lot of stuffies!"

"Aww, that's cute," I smile, my face getting warm.

"You're the best girlfriend ever," she compliments me, "I don't know how I wound up with someone as beautiful and funny and all around amazing as you."

"Maybe it's because you're the best girlfriend ever," I suggest.

"No you are!"

"No you!" We continue to argue about who's the better girlfriend, eventually realizing that we'd never get the other to agree with our opinion.

I end up sorting her hair into two neat braids, not too fancy, but presentable. 

"And voila!" I say, snapping a photo of the brunette to show her how she looks. She turns around quickly to view the photo.

"I look like Wednesday Addams if she had severe PTSD," she laughs, "but seriously, I love it."

"You do look like that!" I cackle, "what a funny coincidence!"

"Thank you, Y/N/N. I love it," she smiles softly, a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

"Sure thing, it was probably more fun for me than it was for you," I giggle.

"Well you can play with my hair anytime," she offers.

"Haha! You're gonna regret making that offer," I tell her.

[madamvoila]

he’s one cool guy

[dumplingsfordays]

sighs of sleep

pairing - gepard x gn!reader (they/them)

genre - fluff

summary - a hallucination of your sleep-deprived brain keeps you awake late at night, so you visit your roommate across the hall to ask to sleep in his room.

cw! - fluff, mentions of stalking (not by gepard or reader), comfort, overly kind/doormat!reader, pining (mostly from gepard), shy!gepard, overthinking!gepard, hugging while sleeping in the same bed, swearing, gepard has a lil crush on reader <3, gepard and reader are roommates

i wrote this entire thing at like 1 in the morning so apologies for any mistakes...

kinda based on a dream of mine where I saw this white face in my window and it freaked be out so ig this is self-indulgence (again lmao)

i love this art so much 😭😭 geppie's so sweet. art credit!!

playlist : after dark (mr kitty), neglect (mr kitty), the beach (instrumental, slowed, and reverb) (the neighbourhood)

As always, thank you for reading :)

++++

It was dark in your room.

Nightfall had come several hours before, but when you leaned back in your chair and looked over at the small icon at the bottom-right of the laptop in front of you, you were surprised to read '2:26 AM' in white lettering. You didn't think that you've been working for so long, and yet, somehow, time passed much quicker than you anticipated.

You didn't plan on pulling an all-nighter - in fact, you initially wanted to watch a movie in your pajamas, maybe with a snack or something to drink, and then go to sleep at what would be considered a reasonable hour for Fridays. And then, after you slept, you would awake feeling perfectly rested, and maybe sleep in for a change. But noooo, apparently that was asking too much, because some annoying coworkers decided to call you last-minute at 1 in the morning to ask you to fill out some documents.

You were kind and helpful, and not wanting to disappoint, you did what they asked of you. Voila! Here you were - finished, emails sent, eyes riddled with exhaustion, hands aching, brain desperately wanting to sleep.

You stood up from your seat with a sigh, and languidly lumbered over to your bed. You didn't bother to put on pajamas when you undressed - you were way too tired for that. As you looked over to the window opposite your bed, however-

You saw something, peeking underneath the half-closed blinds.

In your now-fleeting memory of it, it seemed to be a ghostly, white, featureless face that briefly appeared and disappeared when you looked over to the window, and you were still naked.

Was this a stalker? Some creepy person that magically climbed up to the second-story window to look at your bare form?

Your shivered at the thought, and immediately grabbed the shirt that your were wearing. You shoved it on, pulling down slightly on its hem to help cover your body, and ran towards the blinds to lower them, just in case this face was an actual person and not just a hallucination provided by your sleepless brain.

Even when you lowered the blinds, however, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You didn't have any cameras in your room, and your roommate wasn't the type of person to install them without your request to do so.

You finally decided that you wanted to sleep, and trying your utmost best to forget this event, you crawled into your bed and turned off the lights.

But your stubborn, sleep-deprived brain was a cruel mistress, and to your anguish, kept conjuring up the blank face's image in the darkness. You adjusted your sleeping position over and over, praying to whatever god that would listen to finally grant you rest... to no avail. You remained awake and restless, and when you finally had enough of your brain's shenanigans, you turned on the lights. You hastily tossed on a pair of sleep shorts, and with a sort of fright mixed with vigor, opened the door to the hallway of your shared dorm.

You could still see a faint yellow light underneath the door across from you, and thanking nobody in particular that he was still awake and that you didn't have to wake him, you knocked three times on his door.

Frantic shuffling from inside the room ensued, and you could hear a couple books falling to the floor before your roommate opened the door.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked with obvious concern in his voice. His pale blue tank top stretched a little as he put his hands on his hips. "You scared me."

"I was about to go to bed, and then, when I was changing, I saw a white face in the window, and I tried to ignore it and go to sleep, but then I couldn't because I felt like it was still watching me, and..." you trailed off, and tilted your head downwards. "I'm sorry for ranting, Gepard."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it," he smiled gently, eyes half-lidded from a similar lack of sleep. "I think it's just your head making stuff up. If that doesn't reassure you enough to make you fall asleep, well, I don't really know what to say. Sorry."

You looked up at him, meeting his deep blue eyes. "Can I sleep with you tonight, then?"

A pause ensued as Gepard processed what you just said.

"...what?" he squeaked. His cheeks turned a bright red as he gaped at you.

"Wait! No! That's not what I meant, I promise!" you corrected, also turning red. "I meant sleep in the same room. You know, like a sleepover or something, but without the "staying up late" part, because we're already... up late... You know what? Nevermind. I'm sorry for interrupting whatever you were doing, and I'll just sleep on the couch downstairs. I'll bring some blankets and I should be just fine-"

"You can stay if you want to."

You looked over at Gepard (who was still as red as a cherry, and avoiding eye contact), wide-eyed as you took in what he said. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, the couch isn't that comfortable. You'll probably regret sleeping at all if you doze off there, and I don't mind you staying in my room anyways," he reassured. "Can you go grab blankets and stuff from your room? I'll clean up the place because I knocked over some books earlier, so..."

"Oh, um, sure," you blinked. "Thank you." You were sure that he would send you back after what you said.

You ran to your room and grabbed a pillow and blanket, but when you ransacked your drawers and closet for any sort of thick blankets or mat as possible padding between you and the floor, you came out empty-handed. You were nervous to ask Gepard if he had any usable padding material - he had done so much for you already, and you were sure that he was done putting up with your antics...

Rushing back to his room to not make him wait any longer, you stood by the doorframe as you watched him put the last of his toppled books into its place on the bookshelf.

From what you could see, his room was a tad minimalistic. Paintings of snowy sunsets and mountains decorated the white walls, and a multitude of potted plants (some of which were almost withered) were spread throughout his room, peeking from the top of his bookshelf, standing in front of his window, and some larger ones sitting on the floor. His bed was rather large, and it lay at the top right corner of the room, if you assumed that the door was in the middle of the bottom wall. His desk was across from his bed, to the right of the door, and his bookshelf, which stood in the middle of the left wall, housed an array of multicolored spines of books. His window, thankfully, was closed.

"You can come in, you know," he called as he turned his head to you.

"Thank you," you muttered, stepping inside his room. "Where should I put my stuff?"

He walked over to the center of the room, where you were standing awkwardly. He looked over the items in your hands.

"You don't have anything as padding? We have wooden floors."

"Yeah, I know," you said with a sigh. "I don't have anything."

"Neither do I... I mean, I can always sleep on the floor without padding, and-"

"You're not sleeping on the floor. It's your room."

"Yeah, but you can sleep on my bed and actually have a chance of falling asleep," he said.

"But you said that you couldn't fall asleep too," you remarked. "And you're putting up with my bullshit, so you get the bed."

"How about this? We split the bed in half with pillows, and we each get half. Does that work?"

"Oh- sure."

The two of you got to work. Luckily, you both had several pillows at hand, and Gepard's bed was big enough to perform the task, so you had it done in a couple minutes. You covered yourself with your blanket as he turned off the lights, and when you settled in among the darkness, you felt him shifting in his place.

"Goodnight," you heard him whisper.

"'Night," you replied, pulling your blanket further up to your neck.

But a little while later, your blanket stopped helping against the cold of his room. You didn't notice it before, but now, it was getting pretty chilly, and you couldn't help but lean closer to the row of pillows separating you two, subconsciously seeking warmth. Your thoughts were hazy, laced with sleep that was finally washing over you, but that little itch of cold was getting annoying. So you did the only thing that would have the smallest chance of waking him up and still receiving the warmth you needed - you came closer and closer to the pillow wall, until your hands finally felt his broad back through one of the thinner pillows.

To a very-much-still-awake Gepard's surprise, he felt your fingertips press against his back through a pillow. He thought that you were dreaming, that your brain was perceiving the pillows as a stuffed animal that you were "petting", but when your hands snaked around his torso, he realized that he was probably the stuffed animal (at least in your dreams). You were now hugging him.

If he was being honest with himself, he would probably describe his current feelings in one word: conflicting.

On one hand, he wanted to push your arms away. You were dreaming, that's it, and you needed something to hug. You needed to hug a pillow, not him - he wasn't at all like a pillow, he wasn't soft or light, he was, in his mind, a walking stone, hard and cold. He could give no comfort to you.

On another hand (the hand that Gepard deemed more selfish), he was rather comfortable like this. This felt right, for really no particular reason. A voice in the back of his head told him to do the same, to wrap his arms around you and protect you from anything and everything that ailed you. It whispered sweetness into his ear, vowing that you won't remember it when you wake up anyways, that this was his chance to face his feelings and act on them.

Sure, he's had a crush on you ever since you moved in together, but that doesn't excuse hugging you back when you were this close, right? But what would happen if he hugged you back, and you somehow remembered? What if you weren't sleeping at all and this was your way of flirting?

Y/N wasn't flirting, he thought. Definitely not with me. They wouldn't. They probably don't like me anyway.

Oh, but how he wanted to not overthink the situation and just do it already. This was his chance! What if you did like him back? What if you were flirting with him? A hug couldn't really ruin a 6-month-old friendship, could it?

He sighed as quietly as possible. He was going to do it. He was going to hug you, and he was going to roll the dice of Fate. Either you won't care, or you would lean into his arms, or you would push him away when you wake up. You were kind, merciful - would you really kick him out of the apartment because of a hug?

He stiffly turned around to face you, and got a full view of your serene, closed eyes. You were so pretty like this, he almost couldn't bear it.

Steeling himself, he screwed his eyes shut and reached his arms out to your form, wrapping them around your waist, supporting your back with his large hands. To his relief, you didn't show any signs of resistance - instead, you tilted your head closer to his, resting it against his collarbone as you let out a short, low hum.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

You were so warm, so soft, so fucking beautiful to him. He felt an overwhelming sense of immense joy and relief flood his system at your actions and couldn't help but brush away a stray lock of hair from your perfect, ethereal countenance, taking care to not disturb your sleep in any way. Small breaths escaped your oh-so-kissable lips like fleeting whispers of song, tickling his neck and shoulder lightly, and his heart beat faster and faster until it almost hurt from how close you were to him.

He couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

Your own heartbeat slowed as you fully fell asleep, content in his warm embrace, but Gepard's was still racing. He wanted to stay awake for as long as possible, to savor this moment of closeness for what could very well be the last time, but his eyes betrayed him - they were closing all on their own, and the last thing that he remembered before he fell asleep was the way that your chest rose and fell in time with your quiet sighs of sleep.

[d3lly1000]

AU: TEAM SONIC HUMANIZED!

Hello! I don't post much here… But I want to change that! And to start, I finished the concepts for my take on "What if Sonic characters were human?" and voila. There it is!

I have HC'S and extra costumes for each one that I would like to share, so if you are interested, you can read this entire post to learn about my alternative :) (I will be giving credit for some versions that inspired me to create these babies too! X3) ~~~~~~ >>> SONIC, THE BLUE HERO

He is an athletic, supportive guy, loves running and likes to always keep moving. Contrary to what many people think, the "Blue Blur" cares a lot about his appearance and maintains his "SportLife" and "RacingLife" style;

He hates wearing pants. He always prefers baggy shorts!

His hair is originally wavy, but as time goes by it has lengthened with the help of the wind that always messes up his strands;

He is very popular with girls, but he is not that interested in it;

Fear of water in large quantities, specifically deep oceans and rivers;

The Bracelet with the greenish sphere on his right arm was a gift from his old friend Chip, but known as Light Gaia;

He has always grown up with his considered brother, Miles, being one of his greatest inspirations;

Secretly tries to impress people, more specifically Amy;

He always arm wrestles with Knuckles, but he always loses; • After he grows up, he tends to reduce his playfulness. Although this is a characteristic trait of his personality, it is a way for him to convey confidence to those he loves;

>>> AMY ROSE, THE FEARLESS HEROINE

She is a kind, sweet, loving and very generous girl. Amy always helps people and tries to do her best to welcome anyone in need;

But don't let her loves fool you, she can also be quite aggressive and fearsome when necessary;

Boys are afraid of seeing her angry;

Her style is focused on delicate blouses, dresses and lots of bows;

Her high-heeled boots make her look a little taller, but she is actually short;

She really likes cooking and giving Sonic surprise Chilidogs;

Knuckles is like an older brother to her. He is super protective, although he doesn't doubt that she can defend herself;

Tails and her spend a lot of time together while Sonic is away, making her a great friend and advisor;

Amy "secretly" has a crush on Sonic, although she never confesses it directly, she finds the Blue Boy's unstoppable and righteous nature very attractive;

• She has a great appreciation for romance and hero movies. She is inspired to protect everyone and lead the Resistance, even though she is often under pressure, she is a good-hearted girl;

>>> MILES "TAILS" PROWER, THE PRODIGY GENIUS

Tails is a young prodigy, he loves technology and creating new technological devices never seen before. He is the great creator of several prototypes used during the Resistance War against Dr. Eggman's Domino World.

Despite being a young genius, he is still a child. He likes to read science fiction and watch movies related to Heroes, and Amy usually accompanies him;

He sees Sonic as his older brother and dreams of one day becoming as great as him;

He is very afraid of thunder, which makes him very distressed during storms;

Knuckles and he developed a great friendship, he venerates him a lot and also aims to be a great protector like him;

He has already created a little robot fox to help him on missions. In addition to being a faithful partner, it also contains several upgrades for attack, defense and even espionage;

Tails wears his sweatshirt tied around his waist the wrong way around, making a parallel from the sleeves to his 2 tails…

>>> KNUCKLES, THE LAST MASTER GUARDIAN

He is extremely strong, has great control over his strength and resistance. Even though he is considered a "hot-headed" guy, Knuckles does recurring meditations to be able to control his inner forces;

He and Sonic have a very competitive friendship, both like to tease and make fun of each other whenever they have the opportunity;

Knuckles tends to be quite protective of Amy, so much so that it is one of the reasons he tends to be hard on Sonic sometimes;

He and Rouge also live a great "cops and robbers", and even though the Bat clearly shows an interest in him, Knuckles does not understand this yet;

He is the Guardian of the Master Emerald, so he is quite committed to his responsibilities, being very strict about it;

He usually wears very baggy pants, tank tops, leather vests and his trusty "cowboy" hat; ~~~~~~~~ ALTERNATIVE COSTUME:

EASTER EGG COSTUME:

My Inspirations: - @/Hallsth_eien - @/Angie Nekoblue - @/Lauren Ilustrated Thanks for read this!! And sorry for my bad English <3

[chibishortdeath]

This is such a niche crossover idk if the fandom even overlaps that much but anyone else like Shaun of the Dead? I was thinking about it a bit ago and thought something along the lines of “Ed gives huge Sans vibes” and then thought about it more and well, et voila lol.

I definitely made Sans’s head too small in the first image but eh whatever. Second image is what the first one is based on, and the last two are based on some other screenshots from the movie (to anyone I accidentally spoiled this film for I am so sorry, but pls watch it anyway it’s so good—)

[dearggntlereader]

Nr.19 Hot Cocoa ༻¨ : ·. ｡⋆⍋*｡

platonic!Lily Evans x reader CW: short, light hints at jily if you squint, not proofread

You can hear Lily roaming around in the kitchen from the bedroom you shared for tonight's sleepover. You had been watching Klaus when she all of a sudden shot up with a gasp, tumbling out of the bed with rushed explanations and a bright smile on her face.

You fiddle around with the plushy stag sitting on her bedside-table as you wait for whatever she is so excited about.

She opens the door with an even more excited smile on her face and steaming mugs in her hands. “Voila!” she drawled, eyes casted onto the mugs to make sure nothing spills and voice light and airy with happiness. 

“What’s all this then,” you giggle, gesturing towards the (giant) mugs.

Lily beams at your giggle, her green eyes sparkling as she places the mugs carefully on the bedside table.

She claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing on her Santa-socks clad toes as if she’s got the secret to immortality in her hands.

“I had an epiphany!” she announces dramatically, hands sweeping through the air in giant swoops. “Remember how you said you’ve never had real hot cocoa? I couldn’t let you sleep another night without it. So, I conjured up my mum’s special recipe—well, the closest I could get without her here.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smile growing on your face. “Special? How special are we talking here?” you tease.

Lily grins, picking up one of the mugs and passing it to you. “Special as in velvety chocolate melted straight from the block, a touch of cinnamon, a little bit of orange zest, and…” She pauses for effect, leaning in with that mischievous glint in her eyes you love so much.

“...a huge scoop of whipped cream charmed with just the tiniest warming charm- my idea. It won’t burn you—promise—but it’ll keep your hands toasty while you drink. Isn’t it brilliant?” she rambles, smile growing impossibly bigger, nodding towards you to take a sip.

In the end you continue watching the movie while giggling, huddled close together with foam beards and delicious chocolate on your tongues.

Thank you all for supporting my blog!! As always, I appreciate all comments and reblogs. It's what keeps me going.

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[127-0-0-0]

LOTR is probably one of a few movie franchises whereby you can watch the entire series in 10 minutes by just watching a compilation of memes and not get lost or miss any important details that might be important later.

Et voila