#and so you see how this goes round and round and round again

[saltnsugarbear]

is there a space somewhere in your world (that was always for me?)

summary: After dodging Carmy for about a week, he shows up on your doorstep

title from: "To Love" by Suki Waterhouse

word count: 3.9k

content warnings: reader has a menstrual cycle but can still read gender neutral, Carmy's like a big frickin dork, carmy manhandles reader a little, nothing super crazy this time around

side note: for clarification, takes place pretty closely after the tiffrank wedding. readers at least still bitter about it. Olive really helped with this one! everyone give her a kiss and say thank you

series masterlist!

Carmen Berzatto makes it very difficult for you to ignore him. On top of already taking up much of your thoughts, he's persistent about seeing you. Which wasn't usually a big deal, you were just as adamant sometimes.

Something in you creates a deep sick feeling whenever you think about seeing Carmy right now. There's a tug in your chest and you tell him you're busy or just can't see him. You think it works out when you start your cycle, giving you a longer excuse to keep dodging Carmy.

C: Hey

C: Can I see you?

The request makes your stomach flip. It's not like you're lying, but his persistence makes you anxious. Eventually, you're going to have to see him again.

You: no.

You: started my period yesterday

Bubbles appear a few times while Carmy types. Usually, he gets the hint and backs off for a few days.

C: Is Claire there?

C: I can come and cook. No funny business.

You brush off his offer, telling him Claire was still mulling around the apartment before her shift. You'd probably go to bed after seeing her off, curl up on the couch with some trashy show on to keep you company. His offer surprises you, and you don't think it'll happen again.

But, despite your words, Carmy's already messaging Marcus, asking how quickly he can whip up a batch of brownies.

Carmy doesn't want to consider how odd this is, sitting in his car down the street from your house.

He glances at the bags in the passenger seat, anxiety biting at his nerves.

While he waited for Marcus to get back to him, Carmy did a bunch of reading. He found several different articles listing different foods and ingredients that supposedly help with cramps. He also found articles listing different home remedies or activities for partners looking to help.

Not that Carmy really considered himself your partner but... He didn't not? Carmy never thought too hard about a label for what you guys do or are to each other. But he didn't see the harm in preparing himself to support you. And he was your.... Friend? Whatever he was, he wanted to help.

Movement catches his eye and he perks up a little. Carmy watches as Claire locks the front door to your house before she goes down the steps. He ducks back slightly, even as she heads in the opposite direction from his car.

Carmy gives it a few more minutes before he scrambles out of the car, rounding to the passenger side to collect the bags there. He holds them in one hand as he slings on his overnight bag and locks his car.

Then, Carmy heads for the door.

"What the fuck?" You startle, not expecting Carmy on your doorstep.

"Don't- don't ask questions," he tells you. "I have brownies... and other shit, so can I come in?"

You're at a loss for words, taking Carmy in. There are two reusable grocery bags in one hand and a backpack strap slung over his shoulder.

"Y'gonna let me in, sweetheart, or are ya gonna rob me blind?" The question makes you snicker before you step to the side. Your eye catches on his backpack as he passes.

"What's in the survival bag?" You poke, shutting and locking the door after he enters.

"Just some stuff in case I get mauled again." He says it casually, toeing his shoes off next to the door. You can see the small smile pulling at his lips and you wish you could push him back into the hall.

"Fuck off," You tell him, grabbing both of the grocery bags from his hand. He lets you take it, going to set his backpack on the couch before he comes back to the kitchen. You've set the bags on the counter, before hopping on top of the surface, peeking inside one of them.

"What is all this?" You ask, moving some of the items around.

"Quit pawing at it," He pulls your hand out of the bag, setting it back on your lap. You make a noise at him, watching while he takes things out and sets them on the counter behind you. Most of what he pulls out looks like ingredients. Different fruits, vegetables, meat, and fish that he stores in the fridge.

The items change at the bottom of the second bag, a box of chamomile tea, a heating pad, a few different painkillers, and a clear pan of brownies.

"You made those?" You ask, leaning to get a glimpse of the glass pan.

"Uh," Carmy looks at them before looking at you. "Marcus. Marcus made 'em."

You nod, watching him walk to the stove before setting it to a preheat temperature. "Tell him I said thanks."

Carmy nods, stacking the non-food items to the side along the edge of the counter. Once he's got everything organized how he likes, he looks up at you. His gaze is soft while he takes in your appearance and you watch idly as Carmy walks around to your side of the counter.

"Can I get a kiss?" He steps up next to you along the counter. You give him a look and he huffs softly. "Can't even get a kiss now?"

"You just don't usually ask," you tease before leaning in to kiss him. Carmy makes a noise of content, chasing after your mouth to press another kiss to your lips. Then another. And another.

You have to bring a hand to his hair to tug him away. Carmy lets out a groan of complaint, leaning back into your touch.

"You said a kiss," you remind him.

"Policing kisses now?" He sighs and you give him a grin.

"Can't have you getting distracted and worked up." You tease him and he huffs.

"Just take care of it in the bathroom..." he grumbles, making you tug his hair again.

"Weirdo," you tell him before he's pressing another kiss to your mouth.

"Missed you," he confesses quietly, giving you a second kiss. You hum, ignoring the tug at your heart. "Where y'been?"

"Told you. Busy.." You mutter. You can tell he doesn't believe you, but you don't want to discuss it with him. To distract him, you give him another kiss, which he reciprocates happily.

Carmy finally pulls away, going back over to the food on the other side of the counter. You tell him where things are as he asks, eyes following him around the kitchen. It's not long before he's cutting up the different items of produce and setting them aside in different containers.

He talks you through what he's making, lists off the ingredients and spices he's using. Carmy tells you about how he found a few different articles listing different foods and produce that helped relieve bloating and cramps during menstrual cycles. It's a bit more difficult to hear what he's telling you when he's facing the stove, and away from you. He notices it too.

"Could you come over here?" Carmy asks over his shoulder, busy with the pan on the stove.

"Why?" You ask, making a face at his back.

"Well, because I'd like to look at you while we talk," Carmy says, and you can hear the sarcasm in his voice. You roll your eyes, bracing your hands on the counter.

"I'm comfortable here," you complain and he looks back at you.

"Well, you could be comfortable over here." He shoots back and you let out an exasperated sigh.

"No." You tell him, with a tone of finality like it'll change his mind. He grumbles something under his breath you can't quite make out, it makes you hum in question but he just shakes his head. You settle back when he doesn't say anything else for a few minutes, thinking you've won the debate.

Carmy leaves the stove to stand between your legs, hands coming to rest on your hips.

"Hi," you say softly, giving him a small smile as if you're not being a little impossible.

"You're very difficult today," He tells you, squeezing gently at your hips. You give him a simple shrug, like it makes up for everything. He gives you a look as his grip tightens around your waist and you're not sure if you like what it means.

You let out a noise of surprise as he drags you off the counter, hands sliding under your thighs. Carmy's steady as he carries you over to the counter between the stove and your refrigerator.

"There." He says softly, shifting you back a little. "Comfortable?"

"I guess," you sigh. He gives your thigh a quick pinch, making you laugh. "Smells better over here."

You watch Carmy as he tends the stove attentively. Most of what he tells you about the dishes goes over your head, but you appreciate the effort all the same.

"Y'know, I was doing some reading," Carmy starts, prodding the vegetables in the pan before he looks at you. "Some people said orgasms help relieve cramps.."

His face has a soft flush to it, something that could be attributed to standing over the stove. But you know better than that.

"You said no funny business, Berzatto." You narrow your eyes at him, making Carmy look away sheepishly.

"I was just sayin'," he puts his hands up defensively, keeping his gaze on the food.

"Mhmm." You hum, still looking at him suspiciously. Carmy's fighting a grin as he turns back to the food, and you give him a tap with your socked foot.

You both sit in silence as he continues to work on the salmon. Carmy cooks in batches, eyes flicking between two fillets before he determines they're good and sets them to cool. You don't have to ask to know it hurts his soul a little to let the food cool to be reheated later. He's already made it through most of the produce and fish, and it's not long before he's working on the chicken.

He sets the oven to preheat and you point in the direction of your glass pans, watching as he seasons the meat. It's not long before the oven beeps and Carmen slips the pan onto the top rack. He sets a timer with the appliance, moving the dishes he's no longer using to the sink.

"Saw my mom the other day," he says from where he leans against the counter. Carmy's got his arms crossed over his chest in a way that pushes up his pecs and makes you want to fall to your knees on the kitchen floor.

"Oh yeah? How'd that go?" You ask, letting your feet kick idly.

"Good," he shrugs. "Cooked for her.."

"Really?"

"Mhm," he nods, pushing off the counter to cross the kitchen. "Weird been back there now."

"I bet," you tilt your head slightly. "Street still look the same?"

"You haven't been back?" He asks, surprised. You shrug from your spot in the counter.

"They usually come here, make sure we're alive and living right. Claire usually goes back to the house and gives me the run down." He nods along as you speak, watching you closely. "You guys talk or was she just... DD?"

"Yeah uh.. We talked. She... She apologized for a lot of stuff. It was..." He trails off for a moment, chewing on the words. Carmy's gaze wanders around the kitchen.

"You don't have to talk about it," you tell him gently. He looks up at you, surprise in his gaze. "We don't have to talk about it tonight."

Carmy doesn't ask when he kisses you again, slipping to stand between your legs. This time it's longer than the others, letting him take the lead and kiss you dizzy. His hands grab at your thighs, kneading them softly. One of them comes up to your cheek, keeping you close.

You sigh against his lips as he tugs your hips closer to his. The hand from your hip snakes around to your lower back, palm flat along your spine. Carmy, whether he means to or not, starts rocking his hips against yours. It's a slow and steady rhythm, barely noticeable until he lets out a quiet grunt.

"Carm-" You mutter in warning. He groans softly against your mouth, hand moving from your back to your thigh.

"You can wait a week," you tell him and he scoffs.

"Been waiting more than a week already." He complains. Despite his words, Carmy shifts back so there's a little more space between your bodies.

"Good.." You mutter softly and he lets out a groan.

"Don't start with that." He tells you and you have to fight a laugh. Instead you give him a small grin, giving him a quick peck.

"Finish the food, Carm. 'M getting hungry." You give his hip a soft squeeze as a means to prompt him.

"You're so demanding..." Carmy teases before giving you another quick peck.

"It's not everyday I have a Michelin star chef at my disposal," You bite back, smiling when he gives you a look. He gives your thigh a quick squeeze.

"Literally fuckin' do. You just don't utilize him." There's a deeper meaning to his words that make your throat close up. You don't know if he meant it, and you don't want to find out.

"Finish the food, Carmen."

After you and Carmy eat, he takes some time to clean what he's used. He doesn't let you help much, instead tasking you with putting away what he prepped. While you're putting away the tuberware, Carmy sets the dishwasher to run and stacks the last of the dishes in the sink.

Carmy follows you over to the couch, placing a kiss on your temple as he grabs his bag. "Gonna go change.."

You let him go, settling on the couch with a blanket draped over you as you lay back. You take your phone out of your hoodie pocket and turn on an alarm, set for just after six in the morning. Just in case Carmy's still around the apartment as Claire starts to leave work. It'll give you enough time to get him out and clean up the place.

Carmy doesn't take long to change, coming out of your room after a few minutes. You pause when you glance up at him from your phone.

"Is that all you have to wear?" You ask, raising a brow. Carmy looks confused, nose slightly scrunched.

"What'd'ya mean?" He asks. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"No, it's just... Your dicks like.. Out."

"No the fuck it's not-" He starts defensively. You don't miss how he glances down at his lower half, maybe a little self-conscious.

"It's not like... Bad. It's just y'know.. There." You shrug. Carmy almost looks a little offended when you say it.

"Want me to go put pants on?" He asks pointedly, motioning back towards your room.

"I never said that," you tell him. "I was just commenting on it."

"Okay.." He huffs, turning around to go and turn off the lights in the kitchen. You watch idly as he does, eyes tracing his form as Carmy walks back towards the living room. You set your phone on the coffee table, settling deeper into the cushions.

"Come here," You open your arms as best as you can from your position on the couch. Carmy hums, coming over and climbing on top of you carefully. "Y'sure? I'm not gonna like, squish ya too much?"

You grumble quietly, wrapping your arms around his middle and pulling him onto you. He makes a noise of surprise before getting settled on top of you more, wriggling around so he's supported by the back cushions. "Better?"

You nod, adjusting as he moves his arm under the pillow, providing a slight extra cushion.

"She just lets you set up shop on the couch?" Carmy asks.

"When she's at work, yeah. No one here but me so," You shrug before you start to move under him.

"Careful.." He mutters and you roll your eyes. You wiggle around enough that Carmy's body is pressed against the back of the couch, his head resting on the pillow. He's positioned in a way that his hips are still resting against yours, your legs tangled together.

"You're warm," you mutter, pressing your face to his collarbone.

"Better than the heating pad?" He asks, voice muffled by your hair.

"Much," you tell him, rubbing a thumb over some of the exposed skin of his back. He brings his free hand to rest against your hip, slipping under your sweater to knead the flesh on your side.

"I was readin' and they said something about abdominal massages helping," He offers softly, the heel of his hand pressing firmly into the skin.

"You did an awful lot of reading, Carm. Trying to impress somebody?" You pull back to glance up at him. "Trying to see if any of this works before trying it on your other side piece?"

It's meant as a joke. Poking fun at how much he's read up on menstrual cycles just for this moment. But Carmy's brow furrows and a small frown pulls at his lips.

"There's no other side piece. You think you're a side piece?" He asks genuinely, gaze searching yours.

"No... Carm, it was a joke," You assure him quietly, tucking a few stray curls behind his ear. "Giving you shit for learning so much."

"You're not my side piece. There's no one else," He says it firmly before placing a quick kiss on the palm of your hand. The admission makes your stomach twist, and you scramble to come up with something to bury it with.

"Good. Don't need to be worrying about getting a disease on top of sneaking you into the apartment." You try to push the feeling down, and he gives you a huff.

"Wouldn't do that to ya," He mutters. "Not your side piece, am I?"

The questions makes you laugh before you give him a grin.

"Barely have time for you, don't think I'd be able to have two side pieces." Your admission makes him smirk, and without you knowing, soothes the anxiety in his stomach.

"Good, cause I don't like to share," His voice is gruff, and his hand slides from your hip to grope your ass gently. You make a noise of surprise, leg jerking slightly and knocking against his.

"Don't I fucking know it," You grumble before pressing your face back into his neck.

"How about that massage?" He asks again, hand sliding down the knead at your thighs softly.

"Maybe later, before I have to kick you out," You sigh. "Just want to lay for a little bit.."

"Okay..." Carmy whispers, wrapping his arms around you. "Y'want me to put something on?"

"Mm no..." You let your eyes flutter closed, letting your forehead press against his collarbone. He lets out a quiet 'alright' before he's tracing soft patterns along your back.

You don't mean for it to happen, but after a few minutes, your breathing evens out. Carmy knows you're asleep when you press your face against his chest, ear pressed to his sternum like you're listening for a heartbeat. And maybe you are.

"Hey..." Carmy's voice is soft. You hide your face in his neck, squeezing tight around his middle. "Know you're awake..."

"No, 'm not.." Your voice is muffled against his skin and he huffs.

"I gotta go," he tells you gently and you can't help but whine. "I know, I know. But Claire's on her way home..."

You groan loudly, loosening your hold on him. You don't miss the huff he lets out, giving his side a soft pinch. Carmy lets out a soft 'hey' as you start to untangle yourself from him, blinking sleep from your eyes.

"Didn't mean to sleep so long..." You mutter, stifling a yawn.

"It was late," he shrugs. You hum, looking around for your phone.

"Did the alarm go off?" You ask. Carmy nods, and you look at the time quickly. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Thought you could stand to sleep in," he tells you, moving your legs so he can sit up. "B'sides, we have time."

You make a noise, checking your phone for anything from Claire. You're greeted by nothing, thankfully. Carmy leans against you, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder.

"You gotta go get dressed," you sigh, letting your head rest against the top of Carmy's head. His curls tickle your cheek as you let your eyes fall shut, fighting the urge to doze off.

You pat his knee, silently urging him to get up. It works. Carmy presses a quick kiss to your cheek before getting off the couch and heading to your room.

You glance back at your kitchen, looking for anything that would give away that Carmy had been over. You don't spot anything immediately, making a mental note to put the leftover dishes in the dishwasher. You listen to Carmy move around your room, sinking into the couch.

It doesn't take him very long to get ready, coming back to the living room with his backpack over his shoulder. When he comes back to stand in front of you on the couch, Carmy puts out a hand to help you up. You take it, pulling yourself off the couch, letting yourself stumble into him when you overcorrect. Carmy makes a small sound when you bump into him, his other hand coming to your waist to steady you.

You trail after him as he walks to the door, tugging down your hoodie a bit more. The air outside is warm when Carmy opens the front door, it makes you shiver slightly when it hits your bare legs.

He pulls you into a hug, arm slung around your shoulders as he pulls you close. You wrap your arms around his middle, melting into the hug slightly. You make a noise of complaint when he pulls back a little but Carmy makes up for it when he ducks in for a kiss, and you're not surprised when it's a long one.

"You gotta go..." You mutter against Carmy's lips, but you don't let go of him just yet. And to be fair, Carmy's not ready to let go of you yet either. His hands are steady on your waist, keeping you close.

"Bring you to my place next time..." Carmy promises, giving you another kiss. You hum in agreement, letting him press two more kisses to your mouth before pulling away.

"Okay, seriously. Get going," you urge him.

Carmy sighs softly before pressing a kiss to your temple. "Let me know how you like those dishes, okay? I'll write some of them down to make again."

You nod, letting him cling to you a little bit longer. "You'll get all my reviews, chef."

"Okay," Carmy laughs, starting down the steps.

"Let me know when you make it home," You don't know where it comes from. It startles you slightly but it's swept away when Carmy grins and gives a quiet 'alright.' You watch Carmy climb into his car and wait for him to pull away from the curb before stepping back inside. You make sure to lock the door to keep Claire from asking about it when she gets home.

You sigh when you go back to the living room, eyes trailing over the couch and to the kitchen. The apartment feels impossibly empty again. You hate it.

[stargrillzz]

TRUTH OR DARE

SUMMARY: Could a simple game change the rest of your life? Short answer, yes.

NOTE: God I'm so jealous of Y/N. Kinda wrote this at night and I was really sleepy so maybe there is something misspelled or weirdly written, I'm sorry, it was late but I really wanted to public something about Damienxoxo

It all started as a joke.

You were filming another Try Not To Laugh shoot when someone—probably Shayne—brought up the idea of doing an uncensored version of Truth or Dare, just for the behind-the-scenes team. No camera filters, no PG-13 edits, just pure chaos.

Damien had looked over at you when it was mentioned, raising an eyebrow with that crooked, teasing smile that always made your stomach flip. "Uncensored?" he repeated. "Y/N would destroy us all."

You only smirked. “Oh, I’m already making a list of dares.”

By the time evening rolled around, the crew cleared a corner of the set, dimmed the lights for dramatic effect, and gathered pillows, drinks, and a whiteboard with "TRUTH OR DARE: UNCENSORED" scribbled on it like some sort of summoning ritual. Everyone was hyped—maybe a little tipsy—and Damien had taken a seat beside you, casually slouching with a red solo cup in hand.

You tried to act casual too. Tried.

The game starts out harmless.

"Truth or dare, Shayne?" someone calls out.

“Dare,” he says, grinning like a feral gremlin.

“Send a flirty voice note to Courtney. Right now.”

Laughter erupts as Shayne does a stupid sexy whisper into his phone. It gets worse. Next round, Olivia has to give Noah a five-second lap dance. Keith gets dared to lick hot sauce off someone’s finger (which he does way too dramatically), and Ian—God bless him—is asked how many people he’s kissed on set. The real ones know.

Then it’s your turn.

Shayne smirks like he’s been waiting for this. “Y/N. Dare.”

You cross your arms, chin up. “Hit me.”

He nods at the whiteboard. “Pick a lap of the opposite gender to sit on—for the rest of the game.”

The room erupts in cheers and whistles. You pretend to groan, but inside? You’re already burning up. You scan the room slowly, taking your time like you’re actually considering options. Keith wiggles his eyebrows. Noah pats his knees.

But your eyes lock on Damien, who raises one brow, his lip tugged up into a smirk—but he doesn’t say anything. Just meets your stare and opens his arms a little.

“C’mon,” he says. “I’m comfy.”

“Mm. We’ll see.”

With dramatic flair, you stand and walk slowly, milking every second of suspense while the group yells out guesses. You pass by Ian. Then Noah. Then—

You plop down onto Damien’s lap, sideways at first, legs swinging over his, one arm resting lazily around his shoulders.

The room loses it.

“CALLED IT!” Olivia screams.

You laugh, heart pounding. Damien’s hands go to your waist—secure, confident, like he’s done this before. “You sure you’re comfy?” you tease.

“I’m just wondering why you didn’t do this three months ago,” he murmurs low enough that only you hear.

Your breath catches. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, but there’s mischief in his eyes. And maybe a little something more.

“Truth or dare, Damien?” Shayne leers.

“Dare,” Damien replies, tapping your knee.

“Whisper something dirty in Y/N’s ear.”

You freeze.

The room oohs, but Damien leans in, mouth brushing your ear. His voice is deep, quiet, low enough to make your skin tingle.

“I could list ten things I want to do to you right now, but they’d all make you blush in front of your friends.”

You do blush—so hard that Keith throws a pillow at you. “What the hell did he say?!”

You laugh it off, hiding your face in Damien’s shoulder while he just smiles innocently.

Then it's your turn again.

“Noah,” you say. “Truth.”

He grins. “Bring it.”

You smirk. “Have you ever fantasized about someone in this room?”

Noah goes beet red. “I hate you.”

“Name. Names,” Shayne chants.

“Okay okay—fine. I had a dream about Damien once. He was wearing a cape. Don’t ask.”

The room explodes again, but you glance at Damien and see his smirk twitch.

“Popular guy,” you whisper.

“Jealous?” he murmurs, teasing.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it.

A few rounds later, Ian has to give someone a hickey (he backs out, screaming). Olivia has to describe her ideal kiss with someone in the room, while making eye contact. Shayne dares Noah to act out his most sinful fantasy—with props. The crew is losing it.

But you’re still in Damien’s lap.

He’s got one hand on your thigh now. You’re both quieter, more tense. There’s laughter around you, but your body is way too aware of his—how warm he is, how close, how his hand keeps drifting higher when he laughs.

Then someone dares you again.

“Y/N,” Olivia grins devilishly, “kiss the person you’re sitting on.”

The room howls before you even react.

You turn toward Damien, but his expression’s unreadable. "Only if you want to," he says softly, serious this time.

You lean in, brush your nose against his, and whisper, “About damn time.”

The kiss is slow. Confident. Hot.

The crew screams, pillows fly again, but you don’t even care. His hand slips into your hair and your fingers curl around his collar. It’s one of those kisses you’ve both wanted for months—but never admitted out loud.

When you pull back, you're both a little breathless.

“I should sit on your lap more often,” you murmur.

“You better,” Damien says, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

The next day, the video—yes, someone definitely filmed it—gets posted under the title: “UNCENSORED SMOSH TRUTH OR DARE | TOO HOT FOR YOUTUBE”

The comments are chaos.

"THEY KISSED ON CAMERA WHAT THE HELL" "Love the loser nerd and hottest girl cliché. It’s giving romcom." "Damien bagged THEE Y/N. I’m sweating." "Someone check on Shayne, he looks like a betrayed ex."

You pretend to be embarrassed, but secretly? You’re grinning at your phone. Especially when Damien texts you:

Damien:

They’re calling you the hottest girl and me a nerd. So… wanna kiss again, hot girl?

You type back:

Only if I can sit on your lap again, loser.

[ghost-shark0330]

Curly Hair Routine

Curly haired reader x Simon Riley

Warnings: could be slightly suggestive

You’ve been apart of Task Force 141 for a few months now. Some missions here and there and you gradually got more comfortable with the team. Started sitting with Soap in the morning, talking about food because that’s all Soap can think about while shovelling cereal down his mouth. Gaz joined you in the gym, silently following you, doing sets with you, spotting you and overall being a gentleman. And Price, checking in on you like a good captain and sitting with you in the local cafe to get some work done over a tea or coffee (sometimes hot chocolate) during the evenings.

But Ghost… he was silent.

Everyone knew ghost was a quiet man but he was basically mute around you. You saw him talking to Johnny and Kyle fine, speak to Price when necessary about paperwork but you assumed he wasn’t ready to accept you as part of the team just yet.

‘He’ll warm up t’ ya lass, promise.’

‘He’s very loyal, he just needs to trust you first.’

Both Johnny and Kyle reassured you that it’s not your character, he simply needs time but you caught him glimpsing at you, staring even.

What you didn’t know was Ghost was completely infatuated with you.

Not just you… your hair. It was gorgeous.

Bouncy curls that were tamed but still twisted in wild directions. Your (h/c) bright and matching your features beautifully. Matched your bubbly but determined personality and he loved it.

Ghost has short, curly hair but being trapped in a balaclava almost everyday - it became a frizz mess. So when you and your curls came round the corner he was ready to get on his knees and just beg for your routine and for your soft hands touching his hair.

He NEEDED that curly hair routine. But that meant talking to you and well… with his little crush he wasn’t sure how many words he could say before he faints.

Fresh out the shower, you put your usual cargos and long black tee on, heading to the shared kitchen for a measly pot noodle that will fill you for about 10 minutes until you’re hungry again. Wet curls fall against your back, a few strands still dripping, coiled up. With your back turned, Simon walks into the kitchen and stops, dead in his tracks.

Your breath-taking locks bouncing with every movement, slightly darker than usual bringing out the highlights within your hair. Your figure that is hugged by the cloth, strong shoulders and wide hips and that ass… oh my god, Simon thought he could see stars. He knew he’d have to talk to you at some point.

‘Oh- Hi Simon! You ok?’ You turned and asked feeling his looming presence.

‘Mhm’ he mumbled.

You weren’t shocked with his lack of response, going back to your pot noodle knowing he wasn’t much to talk but the slight nod at your existence to make you smile.

That smile made Simon’s heart flutter rapidly.

‘Uhm- sorry, luv- uhm I mean, sorry- do you have a routine’

Stunned, you turned around. Ghost is talking to you? Huh?

‘I’m sorry darlin’ what do you mean routine?’ You asked politely, completely unaware of what he was asking for.

The pet name alone threw Simon into another world, staring at your eyes and slightly scarred skin as you smiled up at him.

‘Fuck- sorry I mean your ‘air. How do you look after it?’

‘You have curly hair, Simon?’

Of course you didn’t know, you’ve never seen it. He didn’t purposefully hide it - Johnny, Kyle and Price have seen his face, but it just felt natural for him to wear his balaclava around base unless he was in his room. Kept his reputation up to scratch.

‘I- yea’ I do, I don’t know how to look after ‘t’

‘Why didn’t you say? Of course I can help you, here- come with me, I’ll give you my products’

So now here Simon was stood in your room, more importantly your bathroom staring at what seemed, a million different products. Leave-in conditioner, curl spray, curl cream, mousse, hair oil and the list goes on. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley has watched the world burn but this list of creams to go in his hair felt close to WW3. So confused and so concerned.

‘Simon? You listening over there?’

‘Sorry luv, I’m no’ gonna lie, I’ve got no fuckin’ clue what you just said.’

You giggled and stared at him for a moment. You could always appreciate a good looking man when you see one. Simon stood, leaning against the doorframe in between your bedroom and private bathroom (as the only female 141 member) and his arms folded against his chest. His biceps bulged out and begging to be touched in anyway, the tattoo poking out of his long sleeve tee that you’d never noticed before now.

He notices you staring a barely chuckles, letting out a quiet hmph.

‘Sorry- uhm ha- well I can help you if you want?’ You suggest, trying to hide your embarrassment.

‘How you gonna help me, luv?’

‘I’ll show you how to do it on your hair.’ You said it without second thought but then suddenly you realised one, he’d have to take his balaclava off, two, he’d have to let you touch him and his hair, three, his hair needs to be wet which usually is done by a shower. So what you’ve basically suggested is a naked Simon Riley in your bathroom while you fondle with his hair.

‘Shit- sorry, that’s invasive, innit? Sorry darling, I-i didn’t think- here just have the creams-‘

‘I never said no.’

That puts your rambling to a holt. You look up at him. His gaze looks sure and almost… trusting? Even though all you said was you’d fix his hair, his gaze is telling you he feels safe enough round you to put his guard down. You didn’t know the guy fully considering he hasn’t spoken to you until now yet it feels like you’ve been friends, maybe even closer than friends for years.

‘Oh- well yeah, I can do that for ya’.’

‘Cheers luv, let me go get a shower then-‘

He leans off the door, ready to leave your room and go to his but…

‘Wait- Simon? Why don’t you shower i’ here? Makes life easier, dun’t it?’

If Simon had to do a lie detector test and say he wasn’t hard, his nose would grow to the size of the Eiffel Tower. That turned him on, the woman who makes his stomach flutter when she smiles and pants tent up when she bends over, how could he say no?

‘Well- that would be easier, lovie’

As he walks slowly into the bathroom, you notice the small size of the bathroom compared to the shear size of the man. Both of you slowly squeeze past each other to swap sides and as you do Simon gently grabs your waist and brushes himself against you, muttering a quick sorry, darlin’ to get past. You suck in breath slightly looking up into the mirror as you see him tower over you. Your cheeks blush up to a nice crimson.

‘I-I sorry, let me- do you know how to use the shower?- well obviously- I’ll just be out here’ and with that you shut the bathroom door with Simon in it. You couldn’t handle the look of amusement on Simon’s face as you got more and more flustered, imagining what his face (and the rest of his body) looked like. Excitement was an understatement.

After 15 minutes, you hear the water cut off and shuffling of towels and hair.

‘Don’t touch your hair, Simon! Leave that to me’

You hear an amused chuckle from the other side.

‘Okay, luv.’

‘Can I come in then? Y’kno’- to do your ‘air?’

‘Uh- yeah, yea’ come in’

As you slowly breached open the door, you saw muscle before anything else and well… you stared. You knew you were staring, long and hard but what got your insides going funny was, he was staring too.

You’d changed into comfier clothes, just a tank top and some basketball shorts, finishing any duties for the day. You were buff (you killed people for fuck sake) shoulders broad and defined, a waist tight and defined. Legs that even underneath the baggy shorts you could tell were strong.

Simon not only notice this but your chest (he is slightly sex deprived (very sex deprived)). They sat perky and confident. You opted for no bra, slightly regretting it but Simon was grateful as he noticed the nipples gently poking through the thin fabric.

You weren’t any better. You stared too.

He stood there, just a simple, white towel wrapped around his waist that contained a beautiful six pack and a prominent v-line that was like an arrow to an anaconda - it’s probably that big anyway. One arm with a tattoo sleeve littered up it held the towel in place, veins popping out as he slightly shifted.

The best part wasn’t that, though…

His mask was off. Completely off. Not half curled up like you’ve seen in the mess hall, or slightly messed up with a few sparring sessions.

Completely off.

He was stunning. Not conventionally attractive, but just beautiful. The type of face you’ve got to look back at if you walked past him on the street. A jaw strong enough to cut glass, smooth shaven but jagged scars littered across his jaw. Cheekbones high and sharp. A nose crooked but still fit his face perfectly. Lips thin but red and plump enough to kiss comfortably. His eyes- brown and deep, staring back with lust and admiration.

You cough realising you’d both been staring longer than necessary. Looking up, Simon is watching and smirking, waiting for your instructions.

‘W-well sit down-wait you need- give me a minute’ you sputter out realising how ill-prepared you really are, not even having a stool for him to sit on while you style his hair. Simon watches, amused as he realised what his body and face did to you.

‘Right- I’m back… here, sit down’ he does as you say, looking at you through the mirror.

His eyes were distracting but his dirty blonde hair was just as pretty as him, ringlets of curls formed through his short mullet. He wasn’t super curly but it definitely needed some taming and you could tell with how it dripped wet in every direction.

As you started scrunching his hair and applying product you notice a slight hum and droop of eyes from Simon. He was enjoying it, not just the sensation but the fact a pretty woman was doing it too. A pretty woman he’d been crushing on since you joined.

You slowly make your way around him with different products, coming to the front of him and checking his hair. His hands ghost over your waist for stability as you’re too concentrated on his hair to fully notice. It just felt right. Your chest was in-front of his eyes. He tried to be respectful, he really did. But they were there and they couldn’t be ignored.

Finishing the last touches, you notice him staring and giggle slightly.

His eyes shoot up to you.

‘I-I’m sorry luv, i-‘

You giggled again ‘it’s okay… did you enjoy the show?’

‘Y-yeah… yeah I did’ he smirks up at you, shaking his head.

‘Well, I think I’m done, here- these are the products I used.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I can get more, hun.’

You notice the slight blush that flutters across his cheeks before he stands, his height towering over you. His hands gently flutter to your waist to hold you again before he reluctantly brings them back to his side.

‘Thank you- for this- I mean, I’appreciate ‘t’

‘It’s okay Simon, I’m glad to ‘ave a curly haired friend anyway.’

‘You’ve touched my hair once and now you think we’re friends?’ He teases with a grin plastered on his face.

‘Wowww! Ouch, Simon, was it not good enough?’ You say as you clutch your heart for dramatic effect.

‘…it- it wa’ perfect, luv’ not wanting the moment to end, Simon then asks ‘would you do it again? I mean- I din’t quite fully catch everythin’’

‘I think you just wan’ me to play with your ‘air again’ you giggle looking up at him. He leans down gently before the corner of his mouth catches your ear. Your breath hitches in your throat.

‘Would that be so bad, luv?’

‘I-i- uhm no, no, I can do- do that…yeah’ you stutter slightly, still having him leaning down into you.

He tilts back up, staring down at you, a sly smirk painting itself on his face.

‘It’s a date then’

Would people want a part 2?? I’m sorry to leave you on a cliff hanger but it was already quite long haha! Don’t fully know what it’d be if there was a part 2 but I love the banter already. Think I’ve made myself have a bit of a crush on y/n but worth it.

[transformers-spike]

Girl I want to thank you for reading my rambling, if you don't mind I'mma share another one with you lol

So this one is more of TFP Megatron and character, in my story things are a bit complicated but I can shorten it as the character (in terms of mental health) is not better than Meg's, but unlike him who is tweaking on drugs at a daily basis the characters has god like restrain and internalize everything.

So it's really funny but Meg's got the character bonded and sparked(without interfacing) and things go downhill from there. The character now is 24/7 guarded and checked by our medical chief Knock out (9 month of hell as begun)

Now what I'm about to say about the stages of this hybrid pregnancy might be quite uncomfortable, since it's not only the appearance of a sparkling in eons but the fact that its carrier is an organic lifeform makes things so much complicated (even though it's a miracle that it even happens in the first place). While the sparkling develops in the carrier womb, they also need extra nutrients, aka energon , so it ends up the character eating like for three people in total plus having poke holes in the womb so something akin to baby formula or more likely energon formula to be administered directly to the sparkling, but how will this affect the carrier you might ask, well since the sparkling is located in the uterus, while developing, it also changed "texture" of it, that way when the energon is administrated it doesn't go out to damage the carriers organs, but again, it will be a very exhausting pregnancy overall.

Now a little side note, since the character got sparked, "spiritually" (holy Mary reference) they are still a virgin lmao.

Now what I'm about to say might sound a bit ooc for Megatron, but mf is tweaking so bad, not even the drugs can help him this time, he wants to touch the reader so SO bad, but at how complicated the whole thing is the last thing he wants to lose both his mate and the sparkling. So every time he goes to check on the character (even though he receives a status report every 30 minutes ) he just gives them a glance and then gets out of the habsuite as fast as possible because the old man gets an instant boner and if he sits besides them for more than 5 minutes his brain module will combust from all the pheromones the character is emitting.

Even though later in the story, the character receives a bunch of stolen stuff that they might need, while checking the boxes they found one particular box that seems to be from Knock out? I kid you not the mf sent them a box full of sex toys cause the character might need it since the libido during pregnancy can change.(He did his research lmao)

Anyway this is like the prologue on how the character and Meg's start FINALLY being physical, because the moment the character saw those toys it straight gave them neuron activation, that maybe some of the things they feel while being pregnant with an alien baby isn't from the stress but because they are, apparently, horny as hell .

And the moment they give Meg a sign "bats her cute lil eyes at him" aka "please for fuck's sake I need you to stuff me up like a donut with jam" he's a gone mech, good luck to Unicron trying to take over his brain because the only thing in the warlord's mind from that point will be his darling puffy valve and round belly.

_⚰️ amen 🫡

honestly considering how batshit Megatron is in the show, it works quite well

The only one I see being "ooc" is Knock Out, because he would NOT do that out of the kindness of his spark or medical professionalism - the reader needs to make him MISERABLE in order for him to do the proper research and get them sex toys so they can calm the fuck down. The less he deals with their issues, the better it is

I hope Megatron gives her REAL backshots - beats that pussy up until his system starts updating. I think human valve will change his life forever, sitting next to his human like:

also pregnant sex... my beloved

[sweetstrawberryys]

Caught in 4K

Summary: Simon “Ghost” Riley is the most feared man on the Task Force—except when he’s with you. You start secretly filming his soft, simp behavior to expose him, but the second time you try it, Ghost catches on and decides to reclaim his dignity… or at least try to.

Rating: Flirty cuteness and team banter. Slice-of-life, fluff, comedy, Task Force shenanigans. Simp!Simon but in a great way.

Masterlist

---

You didn’t mean to start a war.

You were just documenting the truth.

It started innocently enough. Simon had come home early, surprisingly domestic, barefoot in joggers and a black t-shirt that clung to his muscles like sin. He was cooking eggs—cooking—and humming some soft song under his breath while you sat on the kitchen counter like the most spoiled housewife on Earth.

You said, “Babe, can I have a kiss?”

And Simon Riley, Task Force 141’s resident demon of death, turned to you with zero hesitation and kissed your forehead. Then your nose. Then your lips. Then your jaw. Then the crook of your neck. All while saying “My pretty girl,” between each kiss.

You got the whole thing on video.

You even added a pink sparkle filter and soft music before sending it to the group chat, captioned:

when ghost goes full golden retriever mode 🥰

Soap nearly passed out.

Gaz screamed.

Price replied, “Blackmail. Pure gold. Save this.”

And Simon?

He hadn’t realized.

Yet.

You had to go for round two.

You waited until he was sprawled on the couch, his head on your lap, scrolling through your shared Spotify playlist like he didn’t murder people for a living. You were playing with his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, and he was purring.

You grabbed your phone, slowly. Stealth mode: engaged. The camera opened silently. You started recording, zooming in just a bit as he nuzzled into your tummy and muttered something like, “Love your smell. Makes me feel human.”

Awwww.

He was lifting your hand to his mouth, about to kiss your knuckles—

And then, his eyes snapped open.

Dead center. Staring directly at your phone.

You froze.

He didn’t move for a second. Just squinted. Processing.

Then:

“...Are you filming me?”

The accent? Thick. The suspicion? Thicker.

Your jaw dropped. “Noooo.”

His brows slowly raised. “No?”

“It’s a live photo. For memories.”

Simon sat up. Towering. Narrowed eyes on your soul. “You’re lying to me, love.”

“No, I—”

Your phone was gently, slowly plucked from your hands.

You watched his face as he opened the camera roll. The slow turn of betrayal.

There it was. Full HD. Filtered. Captioned:

he’s so babygirl when he sleeps on my lap 😭🩷

“…Gaz saw this?”

“Everyone saw it.”

Simon stared at the screen in pure horror.

“…How many videos have you sent?”

“…Two?”

You lied again. It was six.

He was quiet the rest of the day. Suspiciously quiet. Like a wolf planning something.

You thought you were safe. Until bedtime.

You were tucked into his chest like always, and just as you were dozing off, you felt a click.

You opened your eyes to see him holding your phone.

“Smile for the camera, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk. “Time for your simp compilation.”

“Simon, you wouldn’t—”

“Oh, but I would.”

He leaned down, kissed your cheek obnoxiously loud, and whispered:

“Say hello to the group chat.”

Your phone buzzed seconds later.

Soap:

SIMON RILEY SENDING A VIDEO??

wait. WAIT. IS SHE BLUSHING??

IS SHE SIMPING FOR HIM???

Gaz:

Let the man COOK.

Get her, Ghost. Fight back.

Price:

This is better than Netflix.

In the end, there were no winners.

Only mutual blackmail.

And a group chat now titled:

“SIMP FILES (Ghost & Wifey Edition)”

But Simon still whispers “my girl” in your ear every time you kiss him.

And you still record it.

Always.

Just in case.

[wintercinnamoon]

Is it forever?

Bucky×Freader

One shot

Word count: 600

Note: Please do not steal, copy or plagiarize my work! ♡.

๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙I hope you like it!♡˙⁠๑

๑ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡๑.

Tough love, tough love... What is tough love? Whenever you see him, you can’t help but freeze. Your mind spins like a merry-go-round, caught in the whirl of his presence. You see him and crash into his eyes—those stormy blue depths that hold a lifetime of pain and quiet hope. His hand, his tousled hair, the low rumble of his voice leave you perplexed, heart racing, thoughts scattered. Every day, you feel yourself getting more lost in him. You love him, but you wonder: What is tough love? Is it temporary? Is it forever? Is it putting a ring on it and living together?

The first time you met him, five months ago, he’d said it with a half-smile, his voice rough but earnest: “I need tough love.” Those words have echoed in your mind ever since, like a melody you can’t shake. Sam had laughed, clapping Bucky’s shoulder, saying, “Man, you’re gonna get it whether you like it or not.” You didn’t know then that you’d be the one to unravel what those words meant, that you’d be the one standing here now, heart full, questioning everything.

The field stretches out before you, a sea of golden grass swaying under a late summer sun. The air smells of wildflowers and warm earth, and the sky is so blue it feels like a promise. Bucky’s sitting a few feet away, his back against an old oak tree, one knee pulled up, his vibranium arm glinting faintly in the sunlight. He’s wearing that faded blue shirt you love, sleeves rolled up, and his hair falls into his eyes as he tilts his head to look at you.

“You’re staring again,” he says, his voice soft, teasing, but there’s a warmth in his gaze that makes your chest ache.

You smile, tucking your legs under you on the blanket you’ve spread out. “Can’t help it. You’re kind of distracting.”

He chuckles, a low, rare sound that feels like a gift. “Says the one who’s been lost in thought all morning.”

You bite your lip, the words from earlier swirling back. Tough love. Is that what this is? This morning, you woke to find a small bouquet of daisies on the kitchen counter, picked from the field near the little cabin you’ve been staying in. Beside them, a plate of slightly uneven pancakes, drizzled with honey. Bucky had been at the stove, muttering about how he “wasn’t sure if they’d taste right,” but they were perfect—tender, sweet, just like this moment.

If that’s tough love, you don’t know what to call it. It feels soft, like the way he brushes his thumb over your hand when you’re nervous, or how he listens when you ramble about your day. It’s the way he stays close at night, his steady breathing grounding you when the world feels too big.

“Y/N,” Bucky says, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. He looks at you, sunlight catching in his eyes, and hands you a small bunch of chamomiles with that soft, sweet smile. You accept the flowers, your fingers brushing his, and bring them to your nose. The scent is simple, delicate, like the moment itself. You can’t find the words to describe it, but you smile and say, “Thanks, Buck.”

“Won’t you tell me what you’re thinking, doll?” he asks, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Noup,” you reply, smiling as you inhale the chamomile’s scent again. If you had to put a scent on love with Bucky, maybe it would be chamomile—simple, beautiful, grounding.

“Noup?” He raises an eyebrow, grin widening.

“Noup,” you affirm, your smile matching his. He shakes his head, chuckling, and goes back to lazily twisting a blade of grass between his fingers. God, you love watching him, love the way he moves, the way he exists here, so at ease. And you can’t stop thinking…

“Bucky,” you say, your voice softer now, “what did you mean? Back then, when you said you needed tough love?”

He tilts his head, the playfulness fading into something quieter, more open. He sets the blade of grass down and shifts closer, his knee brushing yours. “Sam was messing with me,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Said I needed someone to keep me in check, stop me from running from… well, myself.” His eyes flicker to the chamomiles in your hand, then back to you. “But I think he meant finding someone who’d see me—really see me—and still want to stick around.”

Your heart skips a beat. “And is that what this is?” you ask, gesturing to the blanket, the flowers, the golden field around you. “Tough love?”

Bucky’s gaze softens, and he reaches for your hand, his calloused fingers warm against yours. “Not tough,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a gentle arc over your knuckles. “Just… real. You make it easy to be me, Y/N. I don’t know how you do it, but you do.”

Your breath catches, and the question you’ve been carrying—Is it forever?—feels too big for this quiet moment. Instead, you lean closer, resting your head against his shoulder. His arm wraps around you, pulling you in, and you feel the steady rhythm of his heart under your cheek.

“I keep wondering,” you whisper, “if this is just a moment. Or if it could be… more.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment, his fingers still tracing soft patterns on your arm. Then he speaks, his voice low and sure. “I don’t know what forever looks like,” he admits. “But I know I want you here. Today, tomorrow, as long as you’ll let me keep you.”

The words wrap around you like the warmth of the sun, chasing away the doubts. You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze, and lean in, your lips brushing his in a kiss that’s soft, unhurried, tasting of honey and chamomile. When you pull back, his eyes are bright, a smile tugging at his lips. You rest your forehead against his, noses brushing gently, a quiet giggle escaping you as his breath tickles your skin.

“Tough love, huh?” you tease, grinning, still close enough to feel the warmth of him.

He laughs, pulling you closer. “Nah. Just love.”

And as the sun dips lower, bathing the field in a golden glow that feels like forever, you think maybe that’s enough.

๑ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ♡ ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡๑.

Thanks for reading ♡

[cricky-butspicy]

How would werewolf atlas react to the reader having a cat

Depends.

How does your cat react to big dogs? Because that’s how they will react to Atlas, and while Atlas is still a huge animal lover in this AU and would want to befriend your cat, your cat may not want him to if they don’t like big dogs. And that’s basically what his soul and aura look like now after being turned.

If your cat does not like big dogs, they will not like Atlas, and no matter what form he is in, he will be sad about it. Actually, he’s especially sad about it in his wolf form because pubby brain. Why cat no like me? 🥺💔 Yes, even his unstable in between form, he is sad about your cat not liking him. (Though most cats do not like him in his in between because he is a danger and they can feel it, even if they usually like him.)

If your cat does like big dogs or is fine with them, Atlas very much likes your cat. He is constantly petting them or playing with them and goes straight to them when entering your shop and home even if he came to see you. (He is sorry, but your cat is calling him and he loves them.) He tries to hold them all the time and likes to put his face in their belly fur if they will allow him the honors. He will clean and nibble them in his wolf form like they are one of his little pack members and will protect your cat! Even in his in between, he tries to pet them, though their stance on him might change with him like that.

Atlas loves animals and respects them. Even the ones he ends up eating while taken over in the in between werewolf or full wolf form, he always apologizes to them and thanks them once he is coherent again and asks for them to rest peacefully in a new world. Animals are important and help the world go round. They deserve respect. It’s part of why he was so upset about being turned into a werewolf. He can’t properly respect animals like that.

[subjectcommanervous]

Ok brainstorm. Tank and Ripp are kindergarten aged. Buzz and Lyla are fighting, not for the first time. Lyla goes to "visit her parents" for a few days, turned a few weeks, and during this time Buzz gets abducted. Lyla eventually comes back, and notices that something's off about her husband, but just figures he's feeling sheepish/apologetic for how he acted towards her, and it's wounded his pride, so he's being weird.

Buzz, meanwhile, is having the worst time of his life & has no idea what's going on with his mind or body. He thinks he's finally snapped and has just lost his mind completely. He starts becoming hostile towards the neighbors, even more of a workaholic, and suddenly obsessed with making sure their sons can "defend themselves." Lyla is completely skeeved out at this point and is like ok buddy I think you need to go "visit your parents" for a little while.

So Buzz is temporary kicked from the house and he finds himself going down a rabbithole researching alien activity and reports of abductions. ENTER: Glarn Curious. Buzz finds out about this guy who was supposedly abducted like a decade ago and, luckily enough for him, still lives in Strangetown. He tracks down an address and shows up uninvited at Glarn's house and is like you have GOT to help me because I feel like I'm going completely insane here and you might be the only person who can understand. And Glarn feels for him, because he was in this position once, and there was nobody around to help him.

Anyway, what I'm trying to get at here is that Glarn Curious performs an alien mpreg abortion on Buzz Grunt sometime between 1993-1995. And this whole... experience is why Buzz is so hostile towards Mr. Retired-Pollination-Technician Smith specifically

[karkatbug]

I think candy!john should keep this look tbh it suits him lol

[miniagula]

movie sonadow would be so l umity-coded…and i say this bc their dynamic is similar to the games but with a different and tender perspective: they both empathize deeply with each other now, and this shadow is not as reticent or closed off bc of that. that being said: movie!sonic would ABSOLUTELY 'YOU'RE the sweet potato!' the hell out of shadow

[soaps-mohawk]

You know when you're too normal and suddenly you need to be weird? (Cut to the guys omega doing Michael Jackson moves in public)

Me rn

[phannibal]

even just seeing mulder’s mouth form the word bitch raises my blood pressure

[todayisafridaynight]

RAAAGH SECRETARY YURI!!!!!!

THEY SHOULD KISS AND HOLD HANDS AND IGNORE THEIR BOSSES' EMAILS !!!!!!!!!!

[teaboot]

Okay okay okay so I’m changing like every recognizable detail of this for privacy purposes but yall need to appreciate this

So I know how to retain CCTV footage, right? It doesn’t come up everywhere but I know my way around- and if someone gets jumped in a parking lot or whatever I can go backwards and see whodunnit

So I’m at this one place, right? And I get a call that an older woman in a wheelchair got hurt somehow and we need to see what happened.

Nobody remembers the exact time, because of course not, but they tell me she was wearing like a massive hot pink jacket and she’s in a wheelchair and she left with a medic round 09:45ish, so I figure I’ll start there.

So I find the incident itself no problem, but they need ALL footage for liability and insurance and stuff, so I have to keep going

And about ten minutes backwards, I lose her. She comes into view past a single shelf on one of the worse cameras and vanishes.

like. VANISHES. Hot pink jacket, big bulky black chair, gonzo. No idea where she came from.

So, I pull up entry cams. Zoom backwards till I see her come in… at like 06:15.

THREE AND A HALF HOURS EARLIER.

So first off, this is gonna take me like two hours minimum to write down, forget retention. And I’m kind of dying in my soul a bit but I start over there, watching her come in and meander and whatever.

At about 08:30ish she disappears.

Doesn’t leave. Doesn’t head to a bathroom. Doesn’t take her coat off. Her trail just stops.

Now, I’ve done this before. Typically, a location only has the mandatory minimum amount of room for a chair or walker to get around, so a person using one can only go forwards and it’s hard to 180. That limits options and makes it easier to follow, whereas a little unattended and fully mobile kid will zoom around in circles and shit and go who the hell knows where.

Then I see her again on the other ass end of the building, and I have to go back again to see how she GOT there.

My guys.

Her two and three-point turns are INCREDIBLE.

She’s popping on the wheels, flip, zoom, she’s out somewhere I didn’t think she could even GET to. I’ve been planning my search for places that fit a wheelchair or least-resistance fast-paths from A to B and she’s like… doing some Tokyo Drift shit.

I don’t know WHY. The whole place is basically completely accessible so long as you put up with having to reverse, but no. No, she goes where she wants.

I’ve been at this for half the day, and I still have no idea where she went for like an hour and a half.

Fuck me, I’m taking a lunch break

[skyrigel]

Simon sees no reason why there is a vibrator hiding in one of the cabinets - he has fucked you deep and raw, all through the night and arched through the begining of dawn where you weren't even awake.

Sometimes your knees around your head, sometimes his hands digging in your flesh, sometimes his lips swallowing you completely while his cock fills your inside with hot dripping cum, sometimes when he holds you in his chokehold and breeds your bareback, sometimes tenderly in his arms, in all ways.

Why would you even need this?

He eats you out like his life depends on it, on his knees face buried deep in your cunt, sucking on your clit and lapsing in your hot juices.

What irks him more is the hiding state in which he finds your pink vibrator.

Doesn't he makes you feel so good?

It unnerves him, which is why Simon doesn't cater to your ushered moans, begging him to fuck you. "plea...si-" you wiggle back your naked ass, while pressed flat on the desk. "fuck me, nyea-" arching at his touch.

His sadist finger trailing down your naked spine, cum marked by your orgasm of earlier. His fingertips wetting against your dripping pussy oh fuck, you're so hot - and he sucks in one sharp breath, you are so intoxicating, his doll.

"feelin' good, aye?" Simon rubs two fingers along your sore, puffy lips. He has been it for a long time, hours, he guesses, already has made you cum with four fingers piston fucking you relentlessly until your toes curled which were hanging above the floor.

Your knees are weak and you don't know about the vibrator he has with him. “please...mmm, simon.” you whine.

Simon's palm fall flat on your ass with a loud yelp, before resting back on the small of your back keeping you flat against his office desk, the only thing supporting you.

Your own fingers curled at the edge holding for dear life. "Si...baby..ah, ah" again his one deft digit slips inside your warm folds.

You pout, overwhelmed, "I N-need yo..your dick."

Simon smirks and pulls out his sticky wet finger, marveling at it, ofcourse lovie, but he has plans for now, and with a smug look in his eyes he hisses, painfully hard and oh, how easy it would be to fuck you like this, dripping, hot, and begging for him.

But Simon's not an easy man, is he?

He pressures you further against the desk before you start wiggling, "Just there lovie." he smiles, and goes on to put blunt round head of the vibrator against your clit.

Before you could know, because ofcourse your walls know what Simon's cock like, how he feels inside and over you, "Thats no-"

Simon starts the vibrator on its highest setting, buzzing against your sore pussy.

"-Si...nyeah..oh god, oh fuck, fuck," your mouth is incoherent, back at the powerful sensation pulsing inside you.

He doesn't even have to see what setting his thumb is on, your ass doing erratic movements tells well enough. "mmm, what ya' want lovie?" he massages along your clit, the pink ball glossing with your coating.

"mmph...oh fuck, oh fuck m-me baby." you mumble, fucked out of your head.

Anything for his love.

Masterlist

[skipppppy]

The life of Stanford Pines must be so bizarre from the perspective of a random townsperson who doesn’t know him. Imagine you live in a sleepy lumber town, where the most interesting thing you’ve heard this week is that a plot of land on the outskirts of the woods was sold and someone has started constructing a cabin on there.

You later learn by word of mouth that he’s a phd student doing some kind of long-term research project. You don’t see his face until one night he comes blasting down the street on a trail of destruction, eyes yellow and glazed over, trashing public property, inflicting gruesome injuries on himself, and laughing like he’s on an erratic, drug-fuelled bender. He then goes home and locks himself in his cabin again. This becomes a cycle; he stays isolated for weeks, then comes out once in a blue moon to wreak havoc and be a nuisance to the authorities.

Then one day it stops. He doesn’t come back out. The next time you see him he’s at a grocery store looking completely different to how you remember; his hair is grown out, he’s put on weight, his clothes are completely different and he’s stopped wearing glasses. Some townsfolk finally work up the nerve to talk to him and you learn that he invited them to his cabin on a tour. His home is apparently FULL of dangerous research equipment and the scientist, who had allegedly been very quiet and level-headed on the days he wasn’t having his “episodes,” has had a complete personality change, he’s loud and confident and less than honest and a little sleazy but a damn good salesman and entertainer.

He hosts tours out of his home for the next 30 years. Over time he’d changed it into a museum of sorts that sells overpriced knickknacks to unsuspecting tourists, but aside from his shady business practices he’s a well known member of his community. He changes up the exhibits every few months, brings his niece and nephew to stay one summer and they become town darlings, and even exposes a beloved public figure for running a spyware scheme.

One day you hear he got visited by the FBI. They start going round town asking about him. A week or so later he gets arrested. The town goes CRAZY theorising why but then there’s a massive earthquake and in the chaos of that you forget what happened to him. One minute you hear that the feds were surrounding his house and the next they’re all leaving like they forgot what they came for. Another week later he resurfaces and announces he’s going to run for Mayor, dominated the polls, wins the popular vote, but loses his position immediately due to an extensive criminal record.

Then there’s gossip that he completely changed his appearance again. He’s lost his fez and is walking around in a coat and cable knit turtleneck in the middle of the July heat. Then you hear from someone else that he looks the exact same and didn’t change anything. Then you see two identical men walking down the street, one matching the description you saw. People are BUZZING to know what happened and you eventually learn that the “new guy” was actually the same Scientist and the guy that had been running the museum was his twin brother who stole his identity after he went missing. Then the apocalypse happens