#this has been stuck in my head for a few days now

[cosmique-oddity]

Phew, my last weeks of work are now complete >:)

I loved Dratchet and Ratchlock since the very beginning of my attachment towards Transformers, first TFP Ratchet…..but yeah….two of my favorites character….plus Keferon’s Mech AU…..I had to make my own thing about it.

A story….no…an illustration ! I couldn’t choose. So I did both :}

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That was not the first time Ratchet came back to his private lab angry, but this time, yelling at his superiors, and at the system, and basically at evverything that could be yelled at except the pilotd while leaving the manufacture, was certainly the last. He quit. That was enough,

you don’t win a war with feelings they said

well yes,

exactly,

but you win a war with soldier, and frying their mind before they have their first fight because you want them to be more perfectionned ? That was a little counter productive.

So he gave up. They are on their own now.

The lightly humming of his car was barely enough to keep him awake, it have been a long time since he last returned home, usually, he stayed at his work place, to have more time to sleep, but then, he was sleeping even less. An endless vicious circle, things were often like that.

But all of that was over for him.

He granted these young greenhorn with his experience, and what did they do ? Ignored his advices. Sending pilots to death. So now, he had himself out of the infernal machinery. This mindless waste of human life, even where this is what they tried to save was absurd.

In the middle of his quiet and late ride, he heard a noise. Rumbling, was it the engine ? As he stopped the car backroad to check, the noise wasnt stopping. Came from the sky, military patrol ? He raised his two tired eyes on the sky and saw a shining rail approaching his forest, falling fast. Not quintesson shaped, and with the gaze of an experimented biomechanist, Ratchet identified a mech.

At this moment, its violently crashed on the ground, behind the trees at maybe three or four miles away. No matter how hard he argued with the scientist sooner this day or how bad he wanted to say fuck to all of this death industry who killed young soldiers, he could do something for the one trapped inside the mech....maybe.... the man regained his car as fast as possible and urgently headed for the crash area.

Deafened sound of tires on the damaged road. Ratchet was already projecting, mentally stocktaking the tools he took with him, and lucky enough for the poor pilot, he quit with almost all of his material, and even if it was mainly mechs repairing material, he also bought some instruments which were used for the subtle neuromedicine between human and mech. Could adapt some of it and stabilize the pilot....then he may have the time to go home and grab proper materials. If there was life there was hope.

" bold of him to crash himself just the day i insulted all of his hierachy".

He frowned. Almost there.

The trees nearby were crushed and uprooted. A flickering pink light catched his gaze.

Almost immediately, the Ratchet analyzed the mech. It was different. He didnt know in wich country it was made but that almost looks alien. The curves and shapes, busted and burned on several places were demonstrating an incredible display of genius ingeniery he could just admiring. But time was not for being amazed on plating.

Someone was trapped there.

He stopped and parked his car in front of a fallen tree, rushing to the car's trunk, taking few indispensable objets, including some of them to help a safe disconnection between pilot/mech. In case he wasnt out already. And a crowbar, the cockpit might be stuck, seeing all the damages the mech has taken...

The sound of slightly wet grass under his feet was covered by a frenetic noise of aeration. Ratchet listened to it, while cautiously approaching the unknown mech. It almost sounded like a breath, but was certainly a depressurisation issue. The mech had fallen from so high on the sky....

The damaged plating were hot, probably from atmosphere friction. He raised his crowbar and his eyes followed the curves of the chestplates, searching for a familiar shape, that could lead him to the injured pilot inside. His gaze stopped on a deep wound, that might have cut through the cockpit.

The engineer stepped on the hot metal, his thick boots preventing him from feeling the heat, and he started searching for a hint....anything that could be a mechanism, anything that could open this damn mech !

Ratchet considered the damaged chest plate he noticed earlier. The surroundings of the wound were leaking bright pink, a very unusual color for fuel. Another of these definitively strange things about the mech. Again....not the time for that. Maybe if he could widen the gap, then he would be able to have an idea of what was going on under this armor.

He tapped the plate, -it was starting to cool down- with one of his finger. It was a very little tap, but the whole mech startled. A hiss of pain, recognisible easily by an emerite engineer-but-i-fix-people-too, it had come from the head of the mecha. Was this modele controlled from the head, like Vortex ? But Vortex was insanely huge for a mech, way taller than this one. He moved careful, noticing the shaking of his support.

"You hear me, kid ? Its going to be ok. You crashed in a safe area.".

He spoke in his medic tone, wich mean, of course brusque, serious, but also reassuring and calm.

He mumbled about the mech's features and tiny words of comfort while reaching for the head.

A red light, not regular and rather epileptic was coming from the head, and while he was almost there, on all four of his limb to keep balance, Ratchet saw it.

A spectacularly humanoid face, with sculpted nose and lips was tensed in a painful expression, frowning, but the thing who trapped his gaze was the two optics....

....staring back at him.

Mechs dont stare. Their eyes are glowing, oftenly to mimick human face, after all, human are pretty prideful creature, no point in piloting big ass metal titan if no one could tell these where their creation.

What human couldnt mimick with technologie, on the other hand, was the subtle expression between trying to evualuate a threat, his own injuries, and looking rather on the verge of death but also ready to tear any enemy's limb appart with its teeth.

With just one....very long....look at the other's eye, Ratchet was suddenly understanding what was going on.

Well....probably not but he knew what he had to save.

The pilot, the pilot he had to save.

The mech was the pilot.

He was the one he had to save.

He stopped trying to -certainly- open his chest. If it wasnt good for human it probably wasnt for living technology.

The giant technological humanoid seemed in a high distress, exhaling a lot of air from his vents, his eye still intensely staring at him and the engineer doubted his usual technique -including trying to make himself as small as possible- would work.

"Its going to be okay Kid. I can help you. There is nothing here that want to harm you".

He did his best to convey all of these emotions with his facial expression and gaze, still firmly watching back at him.

"the world better wait till im home and officially retired before killing me".

The mech's gaze -damn it was so more living than ANY human made machinery- seemed to soften a bit but still radiated with suspicion.

Deadlock had been in several bad situations. It happened quite a lot when a specie of giant aliens with tendrils tried to invade your homeland, and he was ready to it.

Trained to kill, and to do it efficiently.

And he was *good* at it.

This time was just another of these ‘i went too far in my excitation’ moments, and he has crashed on a random planet he hoped was not inhabited. He landed hard, and pieces of his ship must’ve been thrown near his location.

And now, now there was an organic like no one he ever saw, and the organic was on his *lap* and he had the kindest warmest eyes he ever saw.

And these eyes were directly looking at his own eyes, and the well named ‘Deadlock’ was starting to wonder if he finally had reunited with the Allspark. His pained and tenseful grin faded a little and he tried to move his head forward, searching a better point of view to watch the singularity in front of him.

Ow.

Moving hurt.

Some sound came out of the organic’s mouth, probably a language. He didn’t had the proper tools to decode it but the tone of the language was extremely….comforting ? Soft ?

This was scary.

He wasn’t used to be welcomed like that after a fight.

Usually it was either another fight, either the yelling of a superior, either nothing at all. But this actual living being was carefully examinating his chestplates, and he recognized the gestual of someone who was used to heal. A medic perhaps ?

He tried to move something, maybe a hand, to reach for the pale organic, to be sure he was real, but his body was rather uncooperative, from what he could say, one of his legs was missing, and a lot of wound were releasing energon on the ground he couldn’t saw.

The high probabilities of bleeding out and crash was an issue.

He let his head hang, too tired to watch for every moves of the organic, and barely aware of his environment.

There must be a big problem somewhere….

He confusely thought, while watching the stars.

Must be a bigger injury I haven’t saw……..

Ratchet saw the bright light coming from the alien’s eyes slowly fading, and cold swear ran through his back. Yet, he could still say the soldier was alive, the lights of his body were shining, not a lot, but it was enough. He looked at his first aid kit with disappointment. That wouldn’t be very efficient since the form of life he was trying to preserve wasn’t a tiny human. The nearest thing he could compare the Mech to was….well their own mechs, or eventually….Quintesson. An horrible mess of organic and technology. It was partially thanks to their weird constitution that Ratchet had been able to make sense with the ‘he is alive’ thought.

At this moment and with this material, he couldn’t help the kid, and didn’t possess enough knowledge to tell if he was even dying or not.

He had already an idea of what to do….to fix him, at least trying to, but it involved several objects he hadn’t right now. Leaving to search for these so called objects was risking to let an injured alone, he couldn’t take that risk. He was trapped with the mech, and had to hurry and find something. He stood and reached for more adapted material in his car, trying to find something…. Anything.

Surprisingly, the most useful artifact he came across was his electric screwdriver and a bunch of screw along with a long metallic cabke. A parallel between human stitch, with sewing threads and the material he had with him right now. He could manage something between human fixing and mech repairing, that was what the ‘bio’ in bioengineer stood for.

The kid would be ok. He would live and tell Ratchet why he fell from the sky, and maybe if he saw his friend Jazz….out there…….

.

.

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:)) @keferon

(I swear I’m not insane, your AU is just kinda giving me infinite drawing stamina lmao)

[saltnsugarbear]

an inch away from more than just friends (18+)

summary: based on the word prompt "I wanted you to be my first" with Carmy!

title from: "Naked In Manhattan" by Chappell Roan

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: beginnings of smut!!! MDNI!! stripper reader (can still be read as gn!), kissing, swearing, teasing Carmy, innuendos left and right, unprotected sex, brief fingering

side note: if anyone wants to yap about Carmy and stripper reader in my inbox after this, please do!!! they're rotting my brain. i love this dynamic <3 I'm actually so excited to post this raahh!!!

Living in New York was expensive.

This is no secret. But the results meant you worked two jobs. One as a bar tender and one as.... An exotic dancer. To put it kindly.

Two night jobs gave you mostly nocturnal habits, but the tips were good. Most of them were in ones and you couldn't exactly pay for everything with a band of dollar bills.

Which is how you ran into Carmy. Outside of a bank. He was lost and you were in a rush to get to the bar.

"Shit- Watch where you're fuckin' goin'!" You hiss as you stumble back, adjusting your bag strap as you steady yourself.

Your first interaction resembled those videos of puppies and senior dogs. You berating him mildly, him knocking you down with a few sentences and you hesitating before going back to nipping his ankles. You're embarrassed now by the way you trailed after him on the sidewalk. You followed this man just because he ran into you on accident.

Carmy has never told you why he didn't yell at you on that day. Why he didn't tell you off for following him through two stoplights. Just like how you couldn't explain why you felt the need to berate this curly-haired stranger in the middle of New York. It also ended up being a pure matter of coincidence when one of your regulars took you to dinner. A dinner that resulted in a kitchen tour that led you back to the man who ran into you.

You stuck around enough to pry a phone number out of him. He was easy to crack, batting your lashes at him and quiet pleading.

He didn't anticipate quite how many notifications you'd wrack up on his phone. He felt obnoxious, being the person whose phone was always buzzing. You were like a labrador chasing at his heels for his attention. Carmy felt bad about when he tried ghosting you. Letting you lead a one-sided conversation for a day.

Just when he thought he'd gotten rid of his distraction, you showed up in the alleyway where he smoked after work. You were already out there when he got outside, leaning against the wall with a cigarette on your lips. That night you managed to convince him to give you a ride to the club after coming all the way out to Daniel to scold him for trying to ghost you.

The first time Carmy pulled up in front of the club, his face flushed bright pink. When you turned to thank him, you couldn't help but tease him over it.

"Aw, Carmen! You didn't tell me you've never been to a club before," You smile at him sweetly.

"Carmy," He says quickly, trying to clear his throat. "Just Carmy is fine."

His words make you hum, watching him as you rest your head against the headrest.

"Wanna come in? Can give you a free dance for the ride," You offer him, smile widening as you watch flush work over his ears and down his neck.

"I uh- I've got to um- I can't I gotta-" He stutters, trying to get out some excuse.

"Fuckin' with you, Carmen," You giggle as you open the passenger door. "You gotta pay for a dance just like everyone else."

You bid him thank you and goodnight after you climbed out of his car, blowing him a kiss through the window as you went inside. And thus started your friendship with Carmy. Although unconventional, you intrigued him. He had never hung out with someone so.... Brazen. Someone so sure about who they were and so different. Someone like you usually trailed after Mikey, fawning over him in hopes he might take you to dinner or to his bed. You were so different from Carmy that it just... Worked.

You brought a different sort of comfort in Carmy. Neither one of you had any expectations for this, and that was enough.

You took to inviting yourself to Carmy's apartment in the beginning before he started asking you over every night. You never expected him to make you dinner but after a few nights of your intrustion, he started asking about your favorite dishes. Started cooking for someone other than himself or a customer.

Which is how you ended up in his kitchen, telling him about your day before work. Complaining about your car that had been acting up and smoking out of the tire well.

"My car's in the shop.." You pout, leaning against the counter, twirling your pen between the surface and your fingers.

"Yeah?" Carmy asks, distantly. He's making you dinner before you have to leave for your shift.

"'S gonna be... Stupid expensive," You sigh, laying your arms on the counter and resting your chin on your forearm. "And Sierra has been askin' for lots of my shifts so I'm not gettin' as much as usual... Gonna be tight between that and rent... 'S my luck though.."

Carmy glances back when you sigh, heart twisting when he sees how your lip juts out with your cheek pressed against your arm.

Carmy tries not to let his thoughts run too wild. Godforbid he messes a good thing up. But it's really hard when you're looking up at him with wide eyes and mouth twisted in a pout. It's easy to let his mind wander to another scenario where you'd look at him like that. Hands resting on your thighs as you sit on your knees, eyes practically begging him to take off his jeans.

He's quick to turn back to the stove, distracting his mind from those thoughts by focusing on what he knew. Food. Not sex and definitely not how you'd look in bed.

Carmy distracts himself with plating dinner. He pulls out two of his pasta bowls and plates up the chicken alfredo you begged him to make for you tonight. Not that you really had to, he would make anything you asked him to. Carmy can hear your hum of excitement as you stand up straight. You've learned to watch Carmy work from the counter instead of trying to help. It just created a bigger headache for the both of you.

Once he's finished plating and puts the bowl in front of you, you give him a quick 'thank you' befire digging in. You carry most of the conversation, making sure to let Carmy know when you wanted his feedback (you learned early-on that Carmy was content to listen, even when you prompted him for a response. He needed to be invited to share his thoughts with you). To anyone else his responses would seem disinterested, but you knew him enough that anything more than a half stuttered few words was good for you.

Carmy does let you help clean up. Letting you pack up the extra food Carmy has started to include so you could take something to your dancer friends or to take home. Carmy focused on rinsing dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher.

You've both fallen into a routine. Once you're both done cleaning, Carmy goes to his room to collect his things for work. You collect your bag from the living room and slip on your shoes and coat.

When you're both ready, Carmy corals you out the door and letting you lead him to the parking garage across from his apartment building. Again the car is filled by your chatter and Carmy's limited input as he drives you to work.

There's a weird vibe when Carmy pulls up to the curb in front of the club. His fingers tap erratically on the wheel and he looks like he's deep in thought. You're about to climb out of the car when he speaks up.

"Y'know, I could um... I could foot the uh, the mechanic bill for ya?" Carmy suggests.

"What?" You ask, turning back towards him quickly.

"For your car... Could pay it off for ya.." He shrugs like it's not a big deal.

"Carm.." You sigh, preparing to turn down what's actually a great offer.

"'S not a big deal promise. You're tight on money and I don't want y'stressin' and risk missin' out on more.." He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It's a moments hesitation before you throw your arms around him, leaning over the center console to give him a hug.

"Thanks, Carm," You mutter in his jacket before pulling away. "Means a lot."

You turn back and open the door before turning back to him. Carmy makes a noise of surprise when you place a quick kiss to his cheek, admiring the light lipgloss stain on his cheek. You climb out before he can say anything, ducking down to peer at him from the sidewalk, "Thank you, Carmen!"

You wave him goodbye as he pulls away from the curb, face bright red and stomach full of butterflies.

He's so fucked.

You hope to God Carmy actually picks up his phone. He usually does but you can never be too sure on Carmy's time on his phone.

You're standing in the alley outside of the club, jacket wrapped around you but it's not enough to warm your legs.

"Hey," Carmy's voice is groggy, making your stomach twist with guilt.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Carm.." You sigh, ashing your cigarette.

"No, what's up?" Carmy cuts you off and you sigh again.

"I uh.... I need a ride.. Guy was bein' a major dick and I... I got mad at him and Angie's sendin' me home early.." You tell him. You hadn't bothered changing before you walked out of the club, only grabbing your jacket before you stormed off.

"Give me ten minutes." Carmy's words are final when he says them. He gives you a moment to object before hanging up.

You don't bother to go back inside to grab your things, running on the anger from your customer and manager. It's less than ten minutes before Carmy pulls up to the curb. You climb in the moment the car stops, missing the double take Carmy does when he sees how much of your legs are exposed. You're too busy taking one last hit from your cigarette before dropping it to the sidewalk. When you turn back into the car, Carmy has to tear his eyes away from your thighs, looking for an opening to pull away from the club. He lets you wallow in silence before it hits you.

"Oh, fuck me," You sigh, leaning against your hand on the door and rubbing at your brow.

"What?" Carmy glances at you briefly before flicking on his turn signal.

"Left my keys in my bag and fuckin'- Left my bag at work and I don't-" You sigh heavily, rubbing your hand over your eyes. "I don't have clothes at your place and I can't get home. I'm such a fuckin' mess tonight, I'm sorry.."

"'S okay," Carmy says, taking the gap in cars to pull into the parking lot.

"Carm-" You start.

"It's okay, really. Just give you some of my clothes and I'll uh- I'll sleep on the couch," He says, eyes scanning for a parking spot as if he didn't just invite you to spend the night.

"I'm not gonna make y'do that, Carmy," You tell him while he prepares to reverse into a spot.

"Not makin' me do anything," Carmy tells you once he's parked in the spot. "Now let's get upstairs cause it's fuckin' cold."

You hadn't noticed before but Carmy's only dressed in sweatpants and one of his stupid white t-shirts. You watch as he tucks his hands into his pockets, trying not to stare at the way how his ass looks and how his thighs fill them out.

"Fuckin' stupid f'not grabbing my pants.." You mutter grumpily, bringing the borrowed jacket tight around you. Carmy huffs a few steps in front of you, taking the opportunity to glance at your legs again. Both of you crowd together as you cross the street and enter the apartment building. The building is warmer, making you loosen your hold on the jacket. Being enclosed with Carmy in the elevator makes you open it even more, making Carmy avert his gaze.

You make it more difficult by tucking in close to him, slipping your phone between both of you to snap a quick picture. He still hasn't figured out he doesn't need to look at the screen. When he looks down at your phone, his eyes catch on the deep cut of your top. His breathe catches in his throat at all the skin there, taking in every inch of it.

Within a moment he tears his eyes away, glancing at the numbers as they ding by. Carmy doesn't pay much mind as you hum next to him, bumping him with your shoulder softly. He's gotten used to your casual affections.

Carmy let's you lead him to his apartment door, slipping past you to unlock the door. You still smell like the body spray you showed him. You kept boasting about how it was vanilla and shea and how much you liked it. One of the girls at work had told you about it, and Carmy mentally thanks her for it. Carmy let's you into his apartment, stepping off to the side to toe off his shoes. You sigh as you step in the space, beelining for the island. You drop your phone and cigarette pack before you start shrugging off your jacket. When Carmy looks up from his shoes he feels like he's fucking buffering.

There's so much skin on display and he has to blink hard to fight getting a hard-on. He's not sure what he was thinking, that you had put on a shirt before storming out of work? With the coat off, Carmy can see where your shorts hug your ass, a little bit slipping out of them. He traces up from there to where your top cuts across your skin, breaking up your lower and upper back. There's something else around your middle, a belt of bead strands that clack when you move around and flash refracted light around the room.

You hum as you step out of your shoes, tweaking a strand of hair as you set your jacket on the counter.

"I can sleep on the couch," You tell him, as you turn around to lean back against the counter. He still cringes as you push yourself onto the counter. Carmy's given up on asking you to not. Now he's kind of grateful for it.

"No, it's fine. You can jus' take my bed, not a big deal. Just for tonight, right?" Carmy has to turn away from you to put his locks in place but he can catch your hum as you kick your legs lightly.

"I guess," You sigh. Carmy shakes his head lightly as he walks past the kitchen to his room. You slip off the counter and follow him, beads clacking as you do.

You're not sure why you're surprised that Carmy's room is bland. The rest of his apartment was exactly decorated until you brought things into it. His bedroom was the one room you hadn't seen yet.

"Boring room, Carm.." You tell him, taking it in before your eyes go to where he's digging through his closet. He gives a short hum in acknowledgment but doesn't say anything. While you wait you cross to the bed, sitting at the foot for a moment before you decide to flop back against the mattress.

"What did-" Carmy starts before he turns around. He cuts himself off when he sees you splayed out on his bed, hands resting on your stomach as you trace patterns on the ceiling.

"What did what?" You ask, turning your head so you can see him. Carmy has to clear his throat, folding the sweater he has in half and then in half again.

"What did that uh- that guy from the club? What'd he do?" He asks, setting the sweater on the mattress before he goes to his dresser. He had to buy it when you told him he can't store his extra jeans in the oven. Mostly because he was using it more now that he had you.

You groan loudly, turning back to the ceiling. "Was jus' bein'a dick! Tried coppin' feels left and right, and when I finally told him to stop being a sleazy jackass he got mad and caused a ruckus about me being an ungrateful bitch and then Angie got involved and well.."

You trail off because after Angie had gotten involved you stormed off and called Carmen. You sigh heavily and Carmy turns to look at you before looking back at his dresser.

"I uh.." He clears his throat quietly. "I don't really have... Any shorts or anything, just like uh.. Sweats, jeans.."

"That's okay!" You chirp, pushing yourself up. You lean back against your hands, tilting your head as Carmy turns back to you. You don't miss the way he pushes his back against the furniture, like he's trying to melt into it.

"This'll do," You grab the sweater, running your thumbs over the fabric softly. Carmy nods and you give him a bright grin. "Be back in like... Two minutes!"

Carmy watches as you duck out of his room and make your way to the bathroom. He crosses to the foot of his bed and sits next to where you had been. He squeezes his eyes shut when he hears the door lock click. He tries filling his head with anything he can to keep his thoughts away from you splayed out on his sheets half-dressed.

It turns out that trying not to think about something only makes him think about it more.

Carmy does everything he can think of. Thinks of Chef Daniel, of the dish he was working on this morning. Of Sugar and how he should call her back. Hell, he even let's his mind wander to his mother. But somehow his mind always turns back to you laying back against his bed.

He opens his eyes quickly as he hears you open the bathroom door and the sound of your beads getting farther. He assumes your putting your things with you jacket in the kitchen. It's maybe a minute before you make it back to the doorway to the bedroom.

You look like a vision in his sweater. It's an old navy-colored pullover, 'Brooklyn' across your chest in fuzzy, white letters.

"Very tourist of you," You tell him, pulling at the hem to look at the words. You glance up just in time to find him rolling his eyes at your words, a soft flush dusting his cheeks.

His eyes follow you as you cross to the bed.

"Needed to get some kind of clothes.." He mutters as you climb onto the bed. He doesn't miss the way you huff, shuffling up to the pillows. When he glances back at you he gets an eye full of your baby pink underwear of your work clothes. His eyes widen before his eyes dart quickly up to your face. You're not paying attention, moving one of the pillows over to rest against the other.

"Carmy-" You start, and he feels like he's been caught red-fucking-handed but you didn't even catch him looking. You turn to sit, legs folded out in front of you. He hums for you to continue.

"Lay with me for a little?" You ask him, like you're asking him to hand you something. Like it's normal.

"What?" He chokes out. You huff, the air from it ruffling your hair.

"Lay with me? Stay a little bit before I go to bed?" You cock your head a little, looking at him with wide eyes.

"And do what?" He asks. He doesn't know why he's fucking asking but Jesus Christ you want him to lay in bed with you and his brain is kind of malfunctioning.

You shrug, "I don't know... Sit and talk?"

Carmy seems reluctant, like he doesn't want to be in the room any longer than he has to. Maybe you crossed a line.

"You don't have to," You start, back pedaling on your offer. "Just usually have some sort of like.... Background noise when I go to bed. But my phones gonna die, don't want to steal your charger from you too, tonight."

"Uh... Sure. Yeah, sure.." Carmy sounds hesitant but he gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed, sitting back against the pillow you left.

You grin at him brightly, curling up against your pillows and tucking your legs under the blanket.

"Tell me about work," You tell him, eyes darting around his face. You always encourage him to tell you about what he does at Daniel, asking questions if you don't know or understand something.

He starts off with reminding you of the dish he did the previous day before coming back to what he did today. You nod along as he describes the menu and the specific dish he had today. You liked watching how animated he could get when talking about a dish.

You let him talk as you rest your head against your hand. You can't help but trace over his features, watching as he licks his lower lip quickly when he pauses. You don't mean to interrupt him.

"Can I kiss you, Carmen?" You ask him softly. Carmy stares at you wide-eyed, mouth open in mid-sentence. His ears are bright pink.

"What?" He blinks a few times.

"Can I give you a kiss?" You say again, like it's the most normal question you could ask him.

"I- Uh- Sure?" He sounds unsure and it makes you furrow your brow.

"Yes or no, Carm," You prompt him gently.

"Yes," He nods quickly, much more sure this time. You give him a quick smile before you're adjusting yourself. You're sitting on your knees now, shuffling forward until they're pressed against Carmy's thigh.

You don't miss how he fidgets and you grab his hand with your left one. "Just a kiss, Carmy."

That's the last thing you say before you bring your right hand to the side of his face and pull him into you. Your lips are soft, is what he first notices. So is your hand. The kiss is chaste and it feels like it's over too soon.

When you pull away, Carmy trails after you, lips ghosting yours as he tries to follow.

"Carm-"

"Please," He cuts you off before kissing you again. Carmy brings the hand from yours to your face, holding you close. You get experimental, turning your head to change the angle. Carmy follows your lead, bringing his hand from his lap to sneak under the hem of your sweater. He pulls at your hip until you get the hint.

Climbing onto his lap gives you the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling at his lower lip gently before you slip your tongue into his mouth. His whine is slightly muffled, letting you explore as you please. His grip on your hip tightens as you lower your weight fully on his lap. You don't miss the tent of his sweats pressing against your lower stomach.

You give an experimental roll of your hips, nudging your core just a little over his bulge. He inhales sharply before pulling away, grabbing for the hand that's holding his face.

"I don't um.. I've never..." Carmy trails off. He won't meet your eye, instead focusing on where his hand is holding your wrist.

"Oh! No, that's okay, baby," You coo softly to him, rocking your hips slowly. "Only ever been with like, two people so don't worry.. Pretty new t'this too."

Carmy groans as you continue to drag your core over the tent in his pants. He drops his head to your shoulder, turning his face so he can press soft kisses to your neck.

The kisses are featherlight as Carmy let's himself get lost in the movements of your hips. He groans quietly into your skin when you slowly pick up the pace.

"I uh-" Carmy starts against your skin. You're quick to slip your hand into his curls, guiding his head back so you can hear him clearly. His face is flushed pink as you look at him.

"I want you... I um- I want you to be... Be my first.." He says ths words softly, his eyes are tracing the skin of your neck, mind wandering to how it would look covered in kisses.

"Carm.." You coo softly, bringing your hand from his hair to guide his gaze to yours. "You sure?"

He nods quickly, eyes flicking between yours. "Please?"

Who are you to say no when he asks so prettily?

"Okay," You giggle softly, bringing him into another kiss. This time Carmy tries taking control, prodding gently until you open your mouth to him. He tries to remember how you kissed him, making you huff before you pull away.

"Don't think too hard.." You tell him, placing a gentle kiss to his chin. You nip softly at his jaw before coming back to kiss him. He lets you take back the lead, letting his hands come to rest against your thighs. You bring your hands to his and lead them under your sweater, resting just over your waistband.

Carmy takes the hint, tracing over the skin he glanced earlier. As if to give him some idea, you slip your hands under his own shirt. You let your fingers skim over his abs, following the light trail of hair up his chest. He inhales when you brush your thumbs over both his nipples, pressing his chest into your hands.

You smile against his mouth, pulling away so you can catch your breathe.

However Carmy takes that as the opportunity to kiss at your neck, ducking to nip at your neck. You whine quietly, slowing your hips down to a stop. Carmy groans when you lift your hips but once he realizes why he's less upset. You tug at his waistband, wiggling it as much as you can without his help.

Carmy helps, lifting his hips and hooking his thumbs in his waistband and shoving them to his thighs. You inhale softly when his cock springs free.

Carmy was humble. To say the least.

He didn't act like he had a big dick. He didn't try to boast about it if he ever got the chance. Blush works it's way down his neck at your noise. You're staring transfixed at his cock like you've never seen something like it.

When you look back up you drag Carmen into a sweet kiss. You kiss him slowly, cradling his face as you drag your clothed core over his exposed head. Carmy whimpers into your mouth, taking your lower lip between his.

He lets you go to catch his breath. He can't think of a time he's been more turned on in his life

"Y-You're panties are so- so wet.." Carmy says between pants. He says them like they're not the filthiest thing to leave his mouth.

"Uh-huh," You nod, placing kisses to his jaw.

"Can I please?" One of Carmy's hands has slipped to your waistband, slowly creeping towards your clit. You whine softly into his neck as he ghosts his fingers lower. You can't help but rock your hips into his hand, letting his fingers skim over your entrance.

"Yes, Carmy, yes." You trace a vein with your tongue. He hooks his fingers into your underwear, already prodding at your hole with two fingers.

"Oh my god," Carmy sighs, pressing his mouth against your hair. His breathing ruffles your hair and he has to shut his eyes at feeling of your slick. He dips his fingers into your entrance, making you bite softly at his neck. He pushes until his up to his knuckles. His fingers reach deeper than your own and the heel of his hand presses delightfully against your clit.

Carmy watches in awe as you pull back from his neck and ride his fingers. He gives a few experimental thrusts that make your jaw drop. After a few minutes of this, you bring Carmen into a quick kiss, tugging at his lower lip.

"Need more, Carm," You tell him, lifting your hips off his hand. Carmy mourns the loss as you reach for his dick. His mourning is short-lived when your fingers encircle him, groaning as you angle his head against your entrance. You sink down slowly, and Carmy feels like he could come with just his tip inside you. He won't, but Jesus fucking Christ.

"So fuckin' warm.." Carmy sighs. He holds your hips tightly, keeping you in place. You put your hands on top of his, squeezing them tightly as you sink lower. His jaw drops open at the feeling of your walls around him. You clench around him gently, pulling him into a messy kiss. He pulls back to breathe when you thighs sit flush to his. Having you seated on his cock alone almost makes him come but he has to tense his stomach to prevent it.

Carmy's head falls back against the wall, chest rising and falling heavily as you sit flush in his lap. You can't help but bring your hands to his face, holding him gently as you take in the sight.

"You're so pretty, Carm.." You tell him softly, soothing a thumb over his cheekbone. You're too distracted to notice the twitch against your walls.

"Don't- Fuck- Don't say that..." Carmy mutters, leaning into your touch.

"Say what?" You're confused, tilting your head to one side with a furrowed brow.

"Call me pretty... Make me fuckin'- fuckin' bust b'fore I can move.." He grunts softly as he adjusts his hips. You squeak when his movements justle you, pressing deeper against you.

"Fuck-" You sigh, ducking your head to the side. You can't help the way your eyes flutter shut, soothing your thumb over his skin to keep you grounded. Once Carmy settles back down you pull him into a slow kiss, taking his lower lip between your teeth to tug at gently.

You roll your hips into his, relishing the way he groans into your mouth. The noise trails into a whimper as you clamp your walls around him, making his hands hold on tight to your thighs. The sound makes your head spin, pulling away to catch your breath and hold Carmy's face back as he tries to chase your lips.

You smooth your thumbs over the curls above his ears, while you collect yourself. Carmy ruts his hips up into you, making you squeal softly at the motion.

"Relax, relax," You pull away to catch his eyes. His pupils are blown wide when he gazes at you, blinking softly. You can't help but smile at him.

"Let me make you feel good.."

[bambihrt]

Christmas in Hell

a very hazbin christmas, full of joy, cheer and a party for the ages

Alastor x reader

Reader needs the perfect gift for Angel Dust but has to ask a certain someone for help. Just a little fluffy holiday special.

You would think after death the holidays wouldn't be very important. In hell, especially you would think since they're not big fans of the big guy in charge that they wouldn't celebrate a certain someone's birth. Well Charlie Morningstar was not going to let those facts ruin her super-duper fantastical holiday party.

Christmas Eve

Despite the lack of Christmas spirit Angel Dust was booked and busy letting Santa come down the chimney in a few special videos to be released the next day. Even though his stocking was being filled early you, as his best friend, were stressing over the perfect gift to get him.

Earlier in the week, Charlie has gathered everyone in the hotel to the main space where she had set up a giant tree that reached the ceiling. Charlie and her partner Vaggie, covered in pine needles and wearing lumberjack clothing, held Husk's hat full of folded slips of paper open for the circle.

"Hiiiii everyone! Hope you're all merry and ready for a fun group bonding exercise!" Charlie began.

She was met with loud groans and signs. "Shut up and listen to Charlie she put a lot of work into this," Vaggie huffed with rage.

"Thanks Vaggie. Anyways, I've set up a secret Santa for everyone to- HEAR ME OUT OKAY yes so you'll choose a name and then on Christmas we'll swap gifts and it will be so fun!" Charlie explained while passing the hat along and giggling and staring you down when she picked a piece of paper.

Since you had died quite young, your family hadn't make it to Hell yet or they made are in the place above, so you haven't celebrated since making your way to the after life, so this sounded like fun. But you couldn't resist a playful eye roll as you chose your paper reading Angel Dust to yourself.

Husk groaned while picking from his hat and then placing it on his head, "I thought through death I escaped obligatory in-law get togethers but now I have this shit."

Fast forward back to present day you were still stuck on what you could get him. Adult toys? No give him a break from work. Drugs? Not that you want to encourage that habit. Nifty had been no help when you asked. Muttering on about bad boys and cleaning. You didn't bother with asking Husk. Sir Pentious was still being coached on the whole secret Santa concept. Vaggie and Charlie had too many good ideas but none felt right for Angel Dust. This left you with only one option.

Knocking twice on the radio demon's door, your face twisted with instant regret and immediately started back down the hallway. "Leaving so soon? Now here I was thinking you saved the best for last." The gaze of his knowing smile burned the back of your head as you swiveled around.

"Sorry Alastor it was stupid idea I'll leave you to do... whatever you were doing."

"Nonsense my dear! Why I'd be happy to help my favorite guest with a gift for a certain effeminate fellow!"

"How did you-"

Alastor let out his practiced laugh, "Discretion is not one of your strengths (y/n)."

Your cheeks set alight hearing Alastor call you by your first name, no pet name or teasing nicknames. He held the door open and you avoided his gaze while leading inside. The great radio demon sauntered over to his large cherry wood desk inside his room and sat in a leather cushion maroon chair. Due to the lack of seating options, you hovered near the edge of his bed while le smiled and motioned for you to take a seat with a teasing glint in his eye.

Mustering up the courage to break the silence you asked, "I thought you didn't allow visitors inside your room."

Twiddling with his microphone cane Alastor responded, "I can make exceptions."

"I don't have any VoxTek on me by the way. Just in case you wondered."

A sound came from him, almost like a real giggle but you must of been mistaken. "I know (y/n)."

"Well since you seem to know everything what would be the perfect gift for Angel Dust that will show I'm a wonderful friend?"

"I can only give you hints, would spoil the game if I told you."

You groaned and fell back against the bed. Of course coming to Alastor was a mistake. As if an overlord would want to help silly you buy a silly gift for a silly holiday.

"Cheer up dearie! You're closer to the answer then you might think."

Eyebrows furrowed and dread he might make a fool of you, you asked him for the first hint.

"Something to do with your weekly film Friday events perhaps?"

"It's actually called freaky Friday because of our shared love of movies from the noughties." You said with a cheeky grin. "Angel also loves a dirty joke whenever it's possible to have one."

"Ah yes you, the spider ,and the swine all cuddled together in your matching pajamas on the settee watching princess makeovers and assistant makeovers and-"

"Hey it's more than just makeovers!" However, the comment gave you an idea, "Oh my god what if I get him a Fat Nuggets blanket?"

A round of applause played while Alastor called out "Ding ding! We have a winner!"

Letting out a sheepish smile and thank you, you rose from the bed ready to search for a way to get this made by the end of the day. Then a perfectly wrapped gift appeared in front of your face and dropped into your hands. Your head whipped in the direction of the smiling demon across the room.

"Is this what I think it is? How did you have it already?"

"I know you."

With a flushed face and full arms you made your way out of the room and through the doorway. Only halfway through the walk to your bedroom did you realize Alastor knew of your movie nights and took note of the matching pajamas. The radio demon noticed you.

Christmas Day

A giant fire roared in the hearth as bells rung and music played around the hotel. Excitement filled the air as the originally dismissive group exchanged gifts to each other. You and Angel Dust hung together watching the others until you announced you had something for him.

"Aw (y/n) you're my secret Santa?"

You snatched the Santa hat off Angel Dust's head in embarassment and placed it on your own as you laughed, "Had to get something for my ho ho hoe."

After a fit of giggles said spider unwrapped his gift and his eyes lit up, "If you had a dick I'd suck it so hard right now thank you doll."

Christmas was a success and you could finally breathe a sigh of relief and a laugh at your best friend's words as he snuggled himself within the blanket along with its muse in his lap.

Charlie rose up to give her gift as you prepared yourself with being thankful and happy no matter what she gave you. Until she turned to Nifty with a gift that turned out to be a new dress for her. Filled with confusion you swore to Angel that you thought Charlie got you due to her obviousness. Then the young Morningstar turned again to look above you and smiled so brightly.

Both yours and Angel Dust moved to see what she was smiling at behind you only to be face to face, or well chest, of the radio demon. Grinning down at you with his hands behind his back he laughed and said, "Happy Christmas from your secret Santa."

"What? I thought for sure it was Charlie."

"We struck a sort of deal," Alastor explained while behind your back Charlie gave a thumbs up as the rest of the crew stopped to watch.

The gift was handed to you as you carefully unwrapped it, conscious of all the eyes currently on you or rather what a scary overlord has given you as a gift. Inside was a beautifully crafted music box with carvings of your favorite flowers and sculptures of little deer in a meadow. You opened the box and your ears are met with an instrumental version of your favorite song.

"How did you-"

"Like I said I know you (y/n)."

Suddenly Charlie's voice bellowed, "Look who's under the mistletoe!" As if you couldn't be any more red from this interaction you now looked up to see that very mistletoe above you and Alastor. Your facial expression fell realizing this was going to be so awkward, being rejected in front of everyone despite it not being caused by you. Full of thoughts on how to escape or come up with a nonchalant response to not even being wanted for one measly peck and planning when you'll disappear to nurse your ego, you were distracted from the real world. That was until a pair of lips met your own in a soft yet hungry kiss. The moment felt like eternity yet also a millisecond at the same time. Before you could return the kiss, the deer demon pulled back and with a wink, walked away.

Shocked faces and silence filled the room as no one expected Alastor's actions. Lightly touching your lips, you thought maybe Christmas in Hell isn't so bad.

[mae-gi-writes]

let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (4)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

taglist: @patpatspatz @matchagirliris @multi-fandom-fanfic @alittlebirdahgaselx @kuroos--little--kitten @menacejelly12 @aeshiue @dreamlessnight @altheades @loonalockley @not-your-average-fangirl @bertqut1 @sunlixfl-blog @nabboo007 @astolary @biancatomlinson @lauraagrace

a/n: enjoy! <3 thanks for all the love given to the first part of this story! here's the second part. Third part is coming soon ~

---- previous | part four | next part >>>

"I think I need a drink."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," your cheeks flush bright red. It's bad enough you don't know what to wear to your date with Kuroo, worse now that your blonde cousin is here to make fun of you until you're nothing but a squealing mess of embarrassment. You have half a mind to kick Atsumu out of your flat and call Osamu for help.

Alas, the grey-haired counterpart is busy with his restaurant these days. So it won't be fair to put that kind of responsibility on his shoulders. Definitely not when his twin is currently on vacation.

Atsumu just sends you a lazy smile from the living room couch, "aw c'mon Y/N. This is probably the first time since Aoi left that you're finally interested in someone. Isn't that something worth celebrating?"

"It's just dinner," you argue.

"And dessert," Atsumu winks.

You throw a pillow at him. He cackles even when it slams right into his face, "I'm joking!" he wheezes like a child high on sweets, kicking up his legs like Sakura would when she's excited, "I just can't believe it! And with someone I can vouch for!"

"What does vouch mean?" Sakura asks from her seat. She had been so glued to the tv screen ever since her uncle had the greatest idea to watch the reruns of the two Frozen movies. Little does he know he'll be stuck re-winding it again and again until he knows the lyrics by heart.

"Vouch for, means like to confirm something, from personal experience," Atsumu replies.

"Hm," Sakura frowns, as though an adult trying to contemplate his words, "I don't understand."

"`It's like if you tell me that you won third place at the egg race," you lean over the couch to rearrange your daughter's hair, "and I say that's something I can vouch for, that you won third place."

You watch, heart melting as Sakura's lips form an 'o' shape. She blinks up at you, "I still don't understand."

Atsumu guffaws, "it's okay sweetie. You don't have to understand it yet. You want some more of those marshmallows?"

You slap your cousin's hand away from the half-empty bowl, "that's exactly why her teeth are rotting," You snap at him, "why don't you give her real food?"

"I will! Once you get off my back and go have some incredible se--"

You toss another pillow at him and his yelp makes you let out a small chuckle. Thank god Sakura can't really put two and two together yet, and for that you're glad. At least it's possible to shield her innocence from Atsumu's wide mouth.

"Can you just go?" mumbles the said man himself from behind the pillow, "I thought your date was at six."

"Yeah but it's--" and that's when you realise it's not half-past five like you thought it was five minutes ago, "Oh shi--I mean shoot," you cut a glance at Sakura while grabbing your bag off the kitchen counter, "I'm off. You take care of her and--"

You round the couch, plant a quick kiss atop your daughter's head before heading towards the door, "--you keep her safe 'Tsumu!" you holler while tugging on your loafers, "and Sakura? Eat your veggies!"

"But I hate them mum!"

"They're good for you, and--"

"Y/N," Atsumu cuts you off with a shooing motion, "go. Now. Bye bye."

"Yeah--Yeah okay," you blow a raspberry and throw a final wave, "right. Bye then."

The dining place which Kuroo has suggested a few days back -- right after the incident in which you'd found yourself into his arms -- is tucked away into one of the corner streets, not quite far from the main road, and yet unnoticeable to passerby's with just one glimpse.

It's modern and cute, casual in a way that unconsciously makes you relax slightly as you walk through the olive-coloured doorway and take in the sight of rusty brick walls adorned with green ivy running along the ceiling, the wooden furniture and the cozy bar at the far right.

Kuroo is already seated at one of the smaller, circular tables, and raises a hand in greeting while you make your way to him.

"Hey," he's dressed differently today. Not at all how you usually see him; a dark v-neck and some dark trousers to match.

The sight makes your tummy tighten deliciously, "hi," you manage to croak back.

"I really thought you were going to bail on me," he has on a teasing smile, "guess I was wrong."

"That's the impression I gave you?" your eyebrows raise.

"You always surprise me," his grin widens at the heat flushing through your cheeks. Cute, he thinks, "anyway, I've never been here but they have good cocktails. Or so google says."

"You're that kind of person aren't you?" You take a menu from the centre of the table and scan the options, "the kind that reads a hundred of reviews before deciding on a restaurant?"

"That's what it's for, isn't it?" he tilts his head at you. That same, cocky grin that turns your heart to mush.

Jesus. He really needs to stop doing that.

You look back down at the menu, "I don't know. I don't eat out much."

"Then let me be your official guide," he says it with a wink, and you can't help the chuckle that bursts out of your mouth.

As per Kuroo's recommendation, you decide to opt for a seafood pasta while your host decides on a pizza to share. The food comes right as you're halfway through your glass of wine and by then you're comfortable enough that the conversation seems to flow easily, gathered in a cocoon where only you and Kuroo exist and where everything -- even reality -- seems to fall away piece by piece.

Oh god. You're already in a bit too deep.

And the fact is, it's not even that hard to fall for Kuroo. Because he's just so nice and kind and gentle and everything that you've ever really wanted in a man. He's bashful in a way that reminds you of a pop in need of attention, careful with the way he handles your feelings, and seems forever wanting to please. And maybe that's something most girls would find off-putting given the fact that mysterious men are all the rage nowadays.

But you're not like most girls. You like this golden retriever energy coming off him. You love that he asks for your opinion and is as soft as a marshmallow on the inside.

You also love how he talks to Sakura. Not just because she's your daughter. But it had been clear from the very beginning that your daughter was a little bit in love with him.

By the end of the dinner you're not surprised to find that your leg is brushing against his casually, comfortably, as though you've been friends forever. And when you catch his golden flecked eyes from across the table, the twinkle of fire in them, the small sprinkles of molten golden mixed into warm maroon does something to your heart.

He fights to pay the bill like a true gentleman, but then splits it with you when you throw him a scowl and protest that he's done more than his fair share.

"I just wanna tell you I'm not happy about this," he grumbles as you are handing the waiter the rest of the cash for the night, slipping on his jacket with his bottom lip jutted out like a child, "I will take you out properly one day."

"Then I'm going to look forward to it," you tease.

Kuroo looks down at you, "you--you mean that right?"

"What?" you glance at him, noting the uneasiness, the surprise on his face, "that you can take me out again? Or...did you--I mean, I won't mind if you don't--"

"I don't mind one bit," he breathes and your chest exhales in relief. Gods, you thought he was going to tell you there was to be no next time.

Because again, who wants to be tied down to a single mother with a four year old toddler? Most of your tinder dates would've already blanched and snuck out of your date by now.

"I'll take you home," Kuroo is already going to unlock his car door, but your hesitation makes him falter as he takes in your hesitation, "what is it?"

"Uhm--well, Atsumu is there tonight. He's babysitting Sakura," you send him a sheepish smile, "Unless you don't mind going back there, but I--I thought we could maybe ...spend some more time alone...together?"

Heat is spewing across your cheeks by the end of your sentence, but the fond look that Kuroo gives you doesn't go by unnoticed as he cracks a grin.

"Sounds good to me," he gestures for you to get in, "wanna go get some ice cream then? Or a drink?"

That is how you find yourself sharing a couch with the sports coach, nursing a cucumber cocktail in your hand while he has a beer in his. You tease him about drinking when he's supposed to be the definition of health, and he answers that you're supposed to keep this little secret under wraps.

"I wasn't allowed to drink at all, until I left my volleyball team," Kuroo mentions then as he takes a swig of his drink.

"That sounds like a lot of sacrifice, especially for you."

"What does that mean?" he teases with a grin.

"While other boys are out there raving, experimenting with stuff," you answer and tilt your head towards him, "didn't you get jealous of what they could do and what you couldn't?"

"I suppose to an extent," he shift his legs and it brushes against your thigh, shoulders pressing to yours as warmth suddenly seeps into your right side, "but I had a lot to gain. So I never thought I missed out. Plus, all my good friends were on the team. So we suffered together if that made sense."

"Yeah," you smile at the thought of Atsumu and Osamu being deprived of house parties and clubbing when you were all younger, "it does. Actually, I was quite envious of Atsumu and Osamu when we were younger. They both knew what they wanted -- well, until Osamu decided to quit and become a chef."

"What did you want to be when you were younger?"

"Me?" your lips curled into that same crooked smile that caught Kuroo's heart into a mid-spin every single frickin' time. He knows how to breathe, just forgets to whenever you're around, "I wanted to have my own cake shop. Got the diploma, never got round to actually doing anything about it."

"How did you end up in the event planning business?"

So you tell him. About one of your neighbours asking you if you could help decorate their son's first birthday party. You didn't have the heart to say no and from there onwards, your clientele grew over the months. At some point, you'd realised this job could make ends meet, all while giving you some flexibility around Sakura's schedule.

Your diploma was stuffed at the back of a drawer at some point, forgotten and useless. You'd never gotten around to framing it.

Now, you wished you had. It brings back a bitter wave of memories, ones that are tied to Aoi and that echo with pain whenever you think for too long.

"I could start all over again but--" you think of Sakura and her sweet, smiling face. The way the light would bounce over her eyes whenever she looks up at you full of trust and honest love, "I don't think I can. I'm a bit past my prime."

Kuroo shakes his head, "okay, hear me out but--right before all this PE coach thing came my way, I was actually just a waiter."

You blink, "huh?"

"Yeah. I quit the team a few years back right after I left university, and for someone with a degree in Education and with no experience, jobs are hard to find these days," Kuroo chuckles as he takes another swig of his drink, "so I had to find part-time work while I waited. It took a few years and well-- I landed my first job just a year ago. Quit when I realised the environment was shit, and then here I am now," he lifts his shoulders in a half-shrug, "what I mean is--I don't think there's ever any real timeline for anyone. You just--do the best you can, with what you have. And if you gotta start at thirty, then that's fine too."

The bittersweet smile that fills your face is enough to render him breathless, "thanks Kuroo," you murmur softly, "I'm not sure I'm as brave as you though."

"uh--No, you're managing a four-year old by yourself," he sends you a pointed look, "that in itself is an act of courage. Not everyone can do it, especially the way you do it."

Your cheeks flame, "you flatter me--"

"But I'm not," he interrupts gently. His hand lifts up, pushing a stray strand of hair from your face and your breath hitches when his touch seems to linger there for a beat longer than he's supposed to, "I actually really do think you're like one of the bravest people I've met."

"Stop it," now you're really embarrassed, hands coming up to hide your face.

Kuroo lets out a soft laugh, "I'm just telling the truth."

"Or you're just sweet-talking me."

"Okay maybe I am, but I'm not a liar," is it your imagination that makes you believe there's a little blush scattered along his cheeks? Maybe. But you tempt yourself into believing that's your effect on him.

Kuroo looks away, though he has a smile on his face as he toys with his beer, "so did it work?" he asks.

"What?" you finish the cocktail. The alcohol stings as it slides down your throat, before it warms you up from the inside.

"The sweet-talking," and he's back with that grin of his, dashingly courageous, dashingly cute and he knows it.

You whack him playfully along his shoulder, "you're an idiot."

Kuroo mutters something that might've not reached out ears if you weren't paying attention. But you swear that he says something along the lines of "only for you" which has you blushing down to the tips of your toes all over again.

It's past two in the morning when you manage to reach your flat, now a little tipsy from all the alcohol humming through your veins. You're both laughing about something -- something stupid -- when the door to your flat flies open to reveal a grinning Atsumu.

You straighten, though wobbling in your heels. Kuroo presses a hand to your back, grounding you.

"Hey 'tsumu," you say breathlessly, feeling heat sting your spine spreading from Kuroo's fingertips.

"Well someone's tipsy," Atsumu tips his head towards the raven-haired man, "hope you didn't do anything stupid--"

"Who do you take me for?" Kuroo retorts as he prods you towards the entrance.

"Yeah I know, just checkin'," your cousin eyes the proximity of your bodies, the way Kuroo stands almost protectively behind you, and something in his eyes softens, "alright then. I'll take my leave."

"What? This late? Why don't you stay over--"

"And what?" Atsumu raises a brow at you, "watch you both suck face? No thanks. By the way," his grin widens when you turn beetroot and Kuroo almost strangles himself with surprise, "Sakura's already asleep, so no matter what, don't go wakin' her."

"I'm so sorry," you whisper out to your date when your cousin's out of earshot and Kuroo's managed to manoeuvre you into the flat, "he's not usually that annoying--"

"I know," Kuroo's lips twitch in amusement at the way you worriedly look up at him, "what? What's gotten you looking like someone ran over your pet cat?"

You gasp, "that's not nice, Kuroo sensei!"

"Kuroo," he emphasises his name. One arm going up to press against the doorframe, he leans in towards you, "actually--you can call me Tetsurou."

"Tetsurou," your head cranes up to look at him and --wow, he's tall. And he smells good. Like boy perfume and something woody, something musky you can't quite place, "That's a nice name."

"Thanks," his words trail off, body unconsciously leaning towards you. it's only then you realise how close you are, chests almost touching, noses bare millimetres, his entire frame practically engulfing your tiny one.

He's so close that you can see the way light bounces off his orbs, or the small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes that deepen whenever he smiles.

Something in your chest tightens. You swallow thickly.

And that's when you feel it; his hand skimming your waist.

You let out a sharp breath at the same time that the young man pulls you to him. Gently.

Falling against him like a puppet, hands splay out to press against his shirt and heat permeates your skin and makes you sweat because--Kuroo is ripped. You can feel it, feel him, underneath your palms. He's built like stone and you wonder briefly what he must look like without them--

Oh god.

Your face flames and that doesn't go unnoticed by the raven-haired man. He grins wickedly, his other hand reaching out to cup your jaw so that you cannot look away.

"What?" his murmur is soft like melted chocolate. It makes you weak in the knees and you're glad he's holding you up against him, "what's with the face?"

"N--Nothing," you try to steady your racing heart, "uhm...you're..." he's unconsciously leaning in towards you, as if drawn like a moth to a flame, "...you're really close."

"Seems like it," he murmurs huskily.

"I--uhm--" you shake your head slightly, biting down onto your lower lip as your eyes flutter back up to his. You notice how his pupils have darkened with something else, something that makes your stomach knot deliciously, "Kuroo?"

"Hm?"

"I'm--" you try to scramble your thoughts together, but it's hard when he's so close and when he's looking at you like that, "I'm too old for you."

His body stills, "what?"

"I'm--" shame fills you up and you look away with embarrassment as you repeat, "I'm too old for you."

"Do you really think that you're too old for me?" Kuroo asks, "or is that just an excuse?"

"I have a daughter--"

"--It's only three years' difference--"

"--And you have your whole life ahead of you to figure out what you wa--"

"--I know exactly what I want--"

"I have responsibilities and I can't--"

"Can't what?" with one tug, you fall against him. You let out a sound of shock but Kuroo's hand is insistent as he presses your spine to his body, his palm splaying out and practically enveloping all of your back, "I have responsibilities too, Kosuke-san. And yet," his eyes seem to search yours for a minute, "I can't seem to stay away."

"Like I said," you're not quite sure whether he can even hear you, because your heart seems to be galloping so hard you feel it vibrate through your ears, "I'm too old for you, you should find someone of your own age, someone who's just as ambitious, with no strings attached to them--"

"I want you."

"--and like I said, I'm a mother," you're babbling now, "and I need to put Sakura first, no matter what. I'm sorry, I don't know why I decided to come out today. I shouldn't have, this is a mistake and--"

Kuroo's hand slips to your cheek. He tugs you up, and his lips land on yours.

You freeze.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Oh shit shit shit.

Shit.

This isn't happening.

This isn't supposed to happen!

And yet...it is.

His mouth parts slowly, sliding over yours in such a sweet way that you let out a restrained sound from the back of your throat. Gods, even his mouth is delicious. His hand sifts through your locks to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer by the waist as he kisses your next breath away. Your chest stutters and you all but melt into him, surprise and shock overrun by the sudden desire shooting through your veins.

Your hands, initially at his chest, make a grab for his shirt as your lips follow his in a dance that leaves your heart stuttering and has you gasping for breath. But still Kuroo doesn't relent. He kisses you again and again and again, mouth weaving between yours and teeth nipping at your lips like he knows exactly what you want. A soft whimper bubbles up your throat and he grunts in satisfaction, tugging your hair down and tilting your head back to ravage your lips like there's no tomorrow.

You part after what seems like forever, a small gasp falling from your lips. But Kuroo's slides against your jaw, "god Y/N," he groans out, nipping at the skin along your jawline before slowly pressing butterfly kisses along your neck. You jolt at the suddenness of the action, mouth parting as heat bubbles up in your lower stomach while the young man presses you even closer if that's possible so that you feel every single inch of him against you.

A surprised yelp echoes out of your throat when he finds a sweet spot at the junction between your neck and collarbone. Kuroo smirks against your skin, nipping the area gently with his teeth as your hands trickle up to entangle in his locks, grabbing at them and making him grunt.

The hand along your waist flutters up your spine like a caress and you fold like leaf with the softest whine. Kuroo moves up to claim your mouth once more, kissing the rest of your logic away until you forget why you're here in the first place.

It's not until he's pressing you up against the doorframe that reality crashes back into you. You push him away gently, so gently that your mouths part with a soft sound and as you gaze up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, your heart jumps at the way he's looking at you; desire and tenderness and affection and lust all mixed in together. His chest is heaving just as much as yours is, and when you bite down onto your lower lip the growl that rumbles through his chest makes you all weak in the knees.

"That mouth," he mutters, thumb unconsciously going up to trace your lower lip. He pulls it away from your teeth so that he can trace its outline.

And then he's back to kissing you like he never stopped.

You kiss back with just as much ardour, getting lost into him and for once not caring that all sense of logic and self-restraint are now gone, evicted by the pure selfish need to have him close, closer.

His hands are everywhere; on your hips, in your hair, tracing your abdomen and making you gasp with every searing, scalding touch of palms against skin. But you press closer still, your own hands roaming his back and feeling up all the muscles that tense under your touch.

Kuroo suddenly draws away so quickly that you can't help but whine and tug him closer.

He resists with a groan, nose brushing yours as he furrows his brows, "Kosuke-san, I really cannot."

"What?" you're half-way out of focus at this point, more interested in kissing the soft skin at his jaw.

Kuroo lets out a sound between a moan and a grunt, making your insides twist with desire as his hands find your hips to pull you away, "If we continue, I won't--I don't promise I'll be able to hold back so--" he breathes out raggedly, "for the sake of my own sanity, we--we need to stop."

"Oh," you blink. It takes a moment for the words to make sense. When they do, your eyes widen on their own accord and you push him away, embarrassment flooding through you, "I--Oh, I'm sorry--"

Kuroo drops a firm kiss onto your mouth, grunting in satisfaction when you make a surprised sound, "I told you," he murmurs against your lips, "to stop saying sorry. It's gonna be the death of me."

He finally draws away and pushes your stray strands away from your face, a force of habit, it seems. Your eyes flutter up to meet his, flushing at the gentleness lying in those beautiful pupils. Throughout your relationship with Aoi, you're not sure he's ever looked at you with as much intensity as Kuroo has for the past five minutes. It does something funny to your heart.

"Right," for someone who'd been previously so adamant on not making out with the said man, you're quite frazzled. Your hands are latching onto him like you're a baby koala and he's your tree trunk, and you slide them down to your sides like a shameful kid, "yeah, I--" but you quickly retract the apology in your mouth.

Kuroo grins crookedly, that smile sending your heart into spinning cartwheels, "I'll be off then," he murmurs. His hand smoothes over the back of your head affectionately, and he leans in to press a chaste kiss to your temple.

"How far away do you live?" you have to ask. You feel bad for making him drive all the way out here, it's practically morning at this point.

"Not far," Kuroo sends you a comforting smile, "don't worry, I'll text you when I reach--"

"Do you--" the words blurt out of your mouth before you can stop them, "--do you want to stay over?"

Kuroo blinks. His mouth parts. Closes. Parts again. And then, what seems like a blush litters his cheeks.

He shakes his head, "ah--I think that's a bad idea Kosuke-san--" he spares a glance at your lips, "--especially today."

"Oh," realisation dawns and you flush, "right. Okay. Okay then."

"Don't worry. We have all our time," he grins cheekily.

"I'm still too old for y--"

Kuroo interrupts you with a kiss, "enough of that," he murmurs, "or I'm gonna have to kiss you again."

"That sounds--" your nose brushes against his, "--promising."

"Don't tempt me," he presses one last kiss right above your eye, cups your face for an instant, before he turns away towards the corridor, "goodnight Kosuke-san."

"Goodnight Kuroo," your heart melts, "can you--can you text me when you're home?"

He sends you a grin over his shoulder, "I thought you said you were too old for me?"

"I am too old for you," your face is so red you feel like you could cook an egg on top of it.

"Nah, never," he winks and before you know it, he's gone.

Leaving you and your poor, stuttering heart.

[astrologysaysno]

You know what would be really fun to do, an AU where for some reason the PIDW world is randomly breaking into song and everyone is conscious of that fact but no one knows how it started or how to stop it.

Like, it's just been a thing in this world. Everyone is just in this state of living through a self-aware version of Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist.

I think what would make it even funnier is that when Shang Qinghua arrived at CQMS, the music suddenly switched up on everyone in the sect.

For like, centuries, the music people sang were of traditional tales and epics likening their plight to them, they would take poems and proses and accompany them to a backing that would usually materialize for the occasion.

Now suddenly there's like this great expansion of musical styles and genres and it has people in a buzz, wondering if this this was a natural evolution of the strange music mandate overarching the world or was this the fault of some great manipulator pulling the shots and deciding to add new material because they got bored listening to people sing the same epic tale for the millionth time.

(The true origin of this is that Airplane in his last life had a personal playlist made that he listens to whenever he wanted to write PIDW and now it has come back to haunt him cause HE RECOGNIZES THESE SONGS)

One of these instances first occurred with Shen Qingqiu (Jiu) and Luo Qingge, with Shang Qinghua as an unfortunate witness as it began a while after that awful mission that expanded the rift of misunderstanding.

Instead of some traditional oration of a story about rivalry, something new began to emerge.

It only takes the first few lines before SQH almost has his eyes pop out in shock when he realizes what was happening

... IS THIS WICKED?!?!

Shang Qinghua watches as the two perform a duet, the younger disciples of Bai Zhan acting as an ensemble as everything played out. LQG and SJ sang as they ran into the mess hall, everyone in perfect harmony raising eyebrows to every witness who hadn't been dragged into the number as an ensemble voice.

The moment the song ended, the two are immediately called by the Peak Lords of the Previous generation, dragging along Qinghua as they are interrogated about this new change in the musical paradigm.

The new mixes in with the old. Though the usual forms of song still occur, every once in a while, the new music appears to change the pace, attracting people with its unusual and exotic melodies.

Qinghua isn't immune to this phenomena.

Throughout his days when he became head disciple and then Peak Lord, he had never broken into song once, something that very much confused his fellows peers, who have at some point in their life belted a number or two. Shen Jiu and Liu Qingge had already over a dozen of solos each.

Shang Qinghua chalked it up to the fact that the universe probably decided he wasn't worth wasting a beat on and lived in second-hand embarrassment watching his fellow peak Lords air out their feelings in song.

But the day finally came when a song spewed forth from his lips...

...running away from Mobei-Jun

After the ceremony and the fight with Linguang-Jun, Mobei thought to leave a trap to his uncle, setting something on the steps to slow his uncle down.

Unfortunately for Airplane, he gets stuck on the trap as he runs away, Mobei-jun on his heels as the last of his strength is used to chase Qinghua.

The moment Qinghua turned around, time froze. Mobei-jun finds himself immobilised as Qinghua began to sing, his body frozen in time as his advisor belted and fluttered his voice, singing about choices.

The song ends, Mobei-Jun finally giving out as Qinghua runs away. Mobei-jun doesn't forget the song, and he understands what he must do.

[I have had "What is this Feeling" from Wicked and "On the Steps of the Palace" from Into The Woods on loop in my phone going platinum in my bedroom.

I made this entire thing from my delusions so uh, bon appetit I guess?]

[thechy-fychannel]

You said you think pre-infarction house was an addict-can you expand on that? What drugs were he hooked on and why did he fully switch to vicodin and never used others again? Did he ever reach a go-to-rehab level addiction? How did wilson handle that? And what was Stacy's attitude towards his addiction? I think she would have been a lot more forgiving than cuddy because 1. She herself is a smoker who goes back to cigarettes during hard time and 2. Unlike cuddy, she didn't have a small child to worry about.

Ahhh thank you sm, I love this question!!! Let's get into it ✨

So my theory is that house was abusing morphine prior to the infarction. here are my reasons for thinking so:

1. Three Stories- the entire reason house's infarction was as bad as it was is bc everyone except house was convinced he was just drug seeking at first. it makes absolutely zero sense for them to think that unless he already had a history of drug seeking. unless I misremember (anyone feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) he already worked at PPTH for a while before the infarction happened. so it was the same doctors he knew and interacted with every single day that saw him screaming in agony and chose to believe he was just trying to seek drugs and not actually in pain. he had to have a history, it just doesn't make sense otherwise for them to assume he was drug seeking.

2. one very specific line in No Reason (the episode where house is shot and the whole episode is a hallucination). when house, wilson, and cuddy are in her office and house is realizing they did something to his brain (the ketamine treatment) cuddy says this specific line: "You were out of control, you were shooting morphine!" This line has always stuck out to me and no one ever seems to mention it. It's very out of place bc the conversation they're having is about him being shot and them doing something to him while he was under. I think this was his brain connecting this event to the last time someone did something to him while he was unconscious, trying to rationalize these traumatic events.

3. In early s3 when the pain comes back, he begs cuddy to give him a shot of morphine in his spine (the scene where he drops his pants in her office and asks her in tears if the scar is all in his head too since she thinks the pain is all in his head.) cuddy gives him the shot and he comes back looking for another one later on, after the pain comes back again. she informs him that she never gave him morphine, it was saline. the fact that the pretend morphine worked suggests he had a mental dependency on it. I'm pretty sure this is the point where he goes back to vicodin (it's been a few months since I did my last rewatch so I could be wrong). I think had she actually given him morphine, he likely would've become addicted to it again. Just the thought of the morphine was enough to have him looking for more.

4. Wilson's tendency to jump straight to heroin use when he thinks house is on something other than vicodin. it happens more than once in the series when house starts acting just the slightest bit off, wilson leaps to the conclusion that he's on heroin. which is an insane leap to make unless it's something he's had to worry about in the past. I think the reason wilson would jump to heroin over morphine is if he knows what it looks like when house is high on morphine. If house used to abuse morphine, wilson would be able to recognize it and if he can't, it must be something much worse. this again plays into why I think he was an addict prior to the infarction even if it wasn't morphine, because who in their right mind would jump to their best friend using heroin if that person didn't have a long history of abusing similar drugs?

Now to answer your other questions:

Why did he switch to vicodin and not go back to others he may have been addicted to? I can tell you from personal experience that while morphine feels great, it makes you hazy and tired and out of it. I think once he was prescribed vicodin after his surgery and learned that he could function on it and not feel hazy, it was a match made in heaven for him (he says a few times in the show that vicodin doesn't make him hazy, so he immediately knows if he's on something else bc he feels hazy.) He didn't need to switch to anything else as long as he had access to vicodin bc he got the high, the pain relief, and no haziness. but when he got cut off of his vicodin during the tritter ordeal, he stole oxycodone (I think?) from wilson's dead patient. so if he didn't have vicodin, it's safe to assume he would go back to whatever he had access to.

Did he ever reach rehab level addiction? / What was Stacy's attitude towards his addiction? I think if we go based off his colleagues thinking he was drug seeking + cuddy saying he was out of control and shooting up morphine, I would say yes, it was rehab level addiction. But— I feel like if it had been that bad, stacy would've mentioned it in some sort of capacity during her arc when they were discussing their relationship. she never hints at him being an addict as far as I can remember. she loved and cared about house so much that she was willing to accept him hating her if it meant he was alive and healthy. I feel like if his addiction had been dangerous, she would've done anything to get him help the same way she did during his infarction. even if it meant going against his wishes and him hating her, she would've insisted he got help. so I'm conflicted on that question, honestly. I think maybe it depends on the perspective of those around him. maybe those at the hospital saw something stacy didn't, I'm not sure. but I agree with what you said about her being more forgiving and understanding of it than cuddy was. I think if he had been an addict while they were together, she would've given him an endless amount of chances until it became dangerous, that's when she would put her foot down and try to force him into rehab and their relationship probably would've crumbled for a whole different reason.

How did Wilson handle his addiction? I think house being an addict prior to the infarction plays perfectly into the theme of wilson emotionally neglecting his wives for house. we obviously don't have an exact timeline of his marriages aside from his first one ending just before house and wilson met, but it's pretty safe to assume that he was married to and even possibly divorced from bonnie before the infarction ever happened since he seems to have been married to julie for a little while in the beginning of the show.

[sidenote: here is my personal timeline HC for wilson's marriages.

Sam: 1991-1992 (canon)

Bonnie: 1993-1998

Julie: 1999 (before infarction) - 2005]

In the episode where house uses bonnie to get dating info about wilson, she says the iconic line, "You always needed him and he was always there for you. He had a wife waiting for him at home and you didn't care." And it just makes sense if the reason house always needed him was because of his struggles with addiction. house in general is a needy person who always wanted wilson's affection to himself, that much is clear, but wilson had to of had a good excuse to always run off for whatever it is house needed from him prior to him being disabled.

Getting into more specifics about how wilson would've handled his addiction back then— I think he would've handled it similarly to the way he did with the vicodin. he's an enabler unfortunately, he would've let house make excuses and made excuses for him because he tries to give house the benefit of the doubt that he can control himself. I think back then even more so, because house wasn't in pain and disabled, wilson had no reason to think house couldn't control himself. I think it's even possible that wilson was in denial about it too, he didn't want to believe his best friend was an addict and maybe he felt like he needed to protect house when others started accusing him of such. I think that may be why wilson asked cuddy to make that bet with house to find out if he was addicted to vicodin. he ignored it and denied it last time and he's enabled him for years since the infarction, he wanted to know if he was treating house's pain or still enabling an addict. the answer was both, which makes it no less complicated. but like with all of house's issues, wilson continues to stand by him and be there for him bc he loves him and wants him in his life, addict or no addict.

[cheolaholic]

SNEAK PEEK 👀 RoL (09)

a/n; small little peek of the upcoming chapter !! read it now on my patreon, or you can wait til tomorrow~ ヾ(•ω•`)o

Mingyu and Wonwoo leaned against the former’s black 2022 Genesis G90. You were working your night shift and the group, excluding Seungcheol, have taken it amongst themselves to be your personal bodyguards. They’d drive you home if you’d work the night shift, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe and not having anyone trailing you.

“Any luck in finding out who this creep could be?” Mingyu asks, looking into the windows of the cafe and returns the small wave you gave him.

“So far, zero,” the older replies, “Whoever this creep is, they’re good at covering their tracks or not being caught.”

“Do you think they’re from our university?”

“Given the location of this cafe, I’d say yes. But, we also have to factor in the dodginess of her residential area.”

“Do you think we’d catch this guy? I honestly hate seeing ___ getting so worked up over this…”

“We just need more time.”

Lost in their conversation, the two men failed to notice you picking up a box on one of the cafe tables. There was a printed paper stuck on it, stating that it was a little gift addressed to you. You thought it was cute, a customer having a crush on their barista like in the movies or books you’ve read. But, when you opened it – it was far from a romantic gesture. Mingyu noticed you frozen in place, a look of fear on your face as you stared into the box in your hand.

Nudging Wonwoo, they entered the cafe and approached you to ask what was wrong. When the older male peeks into the box, he immediately grabs it to set it aside. “Do you remember who sat here?” he asks.

You shook your head. It had been a busy day and with the amount of customers coming in and out, the crowd just blended in together; and why would you remember the face of a random stranger?

Mingyu continues to comfort you as the older begin to examine the contents of the box – several pictures of you around campus and in the cafe were printed out, alongside a pair of… men’s underwear. ‘With men like these existing, it’s no wonder why women choose bears,’ he thinks to himself, remembering the hot internet debate a few months prior.

“Do you still want to go home?” he asks as closes the box, “I’ll hold onto these until we catch the bastard.”

When you shake your head, they suggest you stay over at their place for the time being. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s nice of you both to offer me that, but I don’t want to –”

“Mingyu hasn’t been bringing girls in since hell week of his semester started,” Wonwoo adds, allowing you to resume your closing shift, “He’s cleared up his schedule too, so you’re safe from hearing two or more models having sex.”

“And, what about you?” you questioned, “I remember Cheollie mentioning you both had a threesome before.”

The man only shrugs, “Only if I feel like it. I’m either studying, gaming or streaming the majority of the time.”

“Well… If it’s safer, then I suppose I’ll take you both up on that offer. But, I don’t have any spare clothes… Should I head back home to get them?”

Mingyu mentions some of the models he slept with left their undergarments and several clothes behind. “Some of them could be your size, plus you can keep them too!”

“Wouldn’t they want them back?”

“Nah, a lot of it has been sitting in my closet for years now.”

“And, they’re loaded – they could just buy another one.”

[death-by-mercury]

𝚁𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚛 -  𝙸𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢, 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟽 𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟼 𝙳𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚃𝚅 “𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚎”.

[lichanicksstuff]

I've got an idea and here me out: Hob being the most clumsy child on this Earth and Destiny having to intervene so Hob won't die before meeting Dream. Him tuning into an old man and saving Hob from falling out of a tree, falling into a ditch, drowning in the mud, and secretly cures him of a cold (not necessarily in this order). Destiny taking care of Hob because, he can't mess with The Book, he can't save Dream's life, but at least he can make sure his little brother will have a friend.

[enderose]

Since “Terrible Things” has been stuck in my head recently, I thought I’d do a quick doodle of Springtrap between the Christmas art I’ve been making!

[reallyrandomtj]

Ewo folks. It is almost 9:30am here and I have just woken up so SLEEPY BRAIN is still very much A THING; meaning I won't be working on stuff here for a bit.

INSTEAD! ... Can ya'll convince me NOT TO ADD SAMPO AS A MUSE?!

What to expect if I did add him:

Default outfit... cos fight me but bite him? Because I do every time!

Sampo wearing a dress... NOT as Poisson!

Madam Brughel Poisson.

Mister Sampo 'will out dance you' Koski

How Sampo gets 'vantage points' to spy

Sampo cosplayers make TJ weak ♡ But also we know he would dance to this song!

Sampo is just showing off now-- what are you a Dolphin?

[sapiosexualmcride]

(source)

[milkstoner]

I don't have an insta 😔

I do have to respect that honestly.

[flowersandcandy06]

Having the azumanga daioh thoughts again rhmrbrdnidb explodes

[reikurusu]

i hope this will make you happy: gonna finish the anime i'm on rn and start cherry magic :D your gifset reblogging has convinced me

THIS IS SO CUTE!!! Thank you so much for sending this, Anon!!

I just hope my excessive reblogging of the gifsets hasn't spoiled too much for you! I really hope you enjoy it!!!

Please let me know when you finish it and what you thought of it! I'm curious to hear your thoughts!! <3