#Will I keep coming back to this until it’s done probably

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡PART 5

Prev. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: a lot of media attention and some solo time isn’t enough to keep paige away from you.

A/n: one more chap after this then we done 😛

YOU WAKE UP with a pounding headache, not as engulfing as last night but still enough to induce a groan as you lift your head from your pillow.

The hotel-white pillowcase is smeared with residual makeup and your hair feels tangled and unruly. It was surprising how well you slept, seeing as multiple things had happened the night before that should’ve kept you up till morning. You look around to see the hotel room is empty, then check your phone for the time. It’s 1:34pm, you’ve slept into the afternoon.

Your phone is absolutely filled with notifications.

JUJU-KINS😘

U up?

Coach is lit tweaking rn

U bouta be getting media trained FOR LIFE

ELAINEY 🤞

hey

can we talk pls?

ur only in town for a couple more days

it’s not as bad as it seems i swear

i was drunk

COACH

Call me when you see this message.

I hope you already know what you’ve done wrong so I don’t have to waste my time.

You’re smarter than this!

Collapsing on your bed again, you bury yourself in the sheets. Being in Connecticut had just turned out to be a nightmare, you’ve barely interacted with your teammates, your friendship with Elaine was ruined, you’ve had the most confusing relationship with Paige and you’ve made a fool of yourself online.

You shoot a quick text to Juju as well as some other teammates who’ve checked up on you, being sure to ignore Elaine’s texts. You find yourself re-reading your messages with Paige, thankfully your drunk brain hadn’t texted anything too out of pocket, and though you clearly remember her typing after your last message she hadn’t responded since then.

Your call with Coach was the most dreaded of all, you truly respected and feared her, so sitting through an almost half-hour phone call about your responsibilities, failures, expectations and repercussions was awful.

In short, you were to be off of social media until back in state, live privileges were fully revoked, if you were to be found partying and clubbing you’d be in massive trouble, you had to issue a statement on Instagram and twitter (which was pre-written by some professional), and the next practice you participate in will be the worst practice you’ve ever experienced in the history of bad practices. Most probably an insane amount of sprints.

You release your statements on Instagram and Twitter, but before deleting the apps you check out Paige’s comments. She’d obviously received a similar order. Her Instagram story consisted of a black screen and a small box of text, simply entailing how spreading love and positivity while uplifting other players is an obligation she intends to follow from this point onwards.

Her twitter had two new tweets:

paigebueckers1 : Me and (Name) have had some truly special experiences in college basketball. She’s an amazing player who is only gonna go higher and get better as she grows. When I was a junior I was stuck in crutches hoping for the chance I have now. (Name) as a junior herself is absolutely killing it on the court and I for one will always be rooting for her, competitive comments online or not. Keep doin what you’re doin @yourusername !

paigebueckers1 : God is good! 🙏

Turning your phone off, the only thing you’re thinking is ‘you’re so full of shit.’

You wonder if she wrote that herself or if somebody wrote it for her and made it seem like it was her own typing. Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore. You’d had your experience with the Big East Champion, and it was enough for a lifetime.

The amount of content coming out regarding you and Paige was insanely overwhelming. Debates online regarding your skills, looks, personality and basically anything the public can grasp were rampant. You and Paige had been a bit of a scandal ever since she shaded you on that panel, and the media had been seriously following you two back and forth between the seemingly friendly interactions and more hostile ones.

Eventually you stumble upon something different. A video of you and Paige in the background of KK and Ice’s live that day in the coffee shop. You can see yourself fumbling with napkins, and Paige approaching. It’s almost entrancing to see everything play out from another perspective, to see how her face eases into a smile at your smartass comments, to relive your own amused emotion at her stare, to watch Paige speedily write her number on a napkin before the camera shifts and the live ends.

You’re unsure how to react to all of this. No matter how close or far you could get with Paige, would it ever amount to anything? To the slightest bit of trust? Her lips were almost on yours that evening in the street, but just an hour earlier she had lied to your face about knowing Elaine.

You recall what Elaine drunkenly spat out during your argument outside the bar.

“N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

Was this spoken out of experience, or a mixture of jealousy and intoxication? Had Elaine once been that girl on the street, inches away?

You can’t help but think it wasn’t the case. Paige bit her tongue around you to stifle a laugh or to hold back a rebuttal to your teasing. When it came to Elaine, Paige bit her tongue in a different way. A loathing way. You couldn’t explain it.

Plus, Elaine had said herself that you were not Paige’s usual type. If she meant you and her were not alike, that was the truth. You and Paige had more of a history, more similar lifestyles and experiences, more. At least you assumed so.

Finally, you decide you’ve done enough thinking for the day. It was time to line up some plans, maybe meet up with the team for a couple hours and then hoop solo in the evening. Anything to distract from the situation.

-

The sound of a basketball against the blacktop, the hollow bounce that always found itself back to your hand. It’s sustenance to you, it’s breathing.

Storrs had been blessed with a hotter Sunday then usual, even in your shorts and t-shirt you were sweating, shooting hoops the same way you’ve been doing since you were a child.

The court was empty and outdoors, perfect for you to hold the ball for a moment and admire the scenery, the changing colours of the sky as afternoon fades to evening.

You hear the bounce of a ball again, but yours is secured in your hand.

“Hey.”

You’re not surprised to see her. The sink in your stomach as you meet her eyes in almost predictable.

“What are the chances.” You scoff. “Don’t you have like, the entire UConn gym to hoop?”

“I come to this court all the time.” Paige narrows her eyes. “It’s usually peaceful.”

“I figured.” You say curtly, turning your head to see the setting sun. It was very peaceful, even with the impending silence between you and the blonde.

“How drunk were you last night?” Paige asks.

You spin around to give her a look. “Drunk enough to get on live,” You scoff. “but sober enough to read a text and send it without regrets.”

At the mention of your short conversation with Paige over text, you can see her cringe. She obviously hadn’t been expecting you to find out about her relationship with your friend, let alone be so upfront with it.

“I never fucked her in my car…just so you know.” She finally manages to breath out.

You almost bark out a laugh at this. “You think I’m mad cus you fucked her?” You ask, walking towards Paige and lightly dribbling the ball. She simply stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you not?”

“Is the blonde fucking seeping into your head?” You snap, mentally celebrating as her lips forms a straight line. “If you don’t know, you better figure it out.”

Paige brings a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead as if it’s aching. Her eyes are wide and analyzing you, thinking of the best way to respond.

“Go on,” you tease her. “tell me why I’m mad.”

You’re close to her now, too close for comfort. You can see her smile lines, her plush lips, her silver chain glinting beneath the black long sleeve she’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up, and you can’t help but noticed how veiny her arms are, how her long fingers are holding the basketball against her body.

Biting her lip, Paige finally responds. “You’re mad because I lied.”

“Smart girl.” You scoff, almost choking on your breath when her jaw clenches at your comment. “I’m mad cus you lied to my face. And cus you went on live and shit talked me again for no reason.”

You and her stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks a smile. “That was my bad.” She murmurs. “I was uh, Ion’ know. I was in sum kinda mood.”

“The mood to lie?” You raise your eyebrow. “Or the mood to be a bitch?”

“Don’t call me a bitch.” She scowls, and you’re reminded of the last time you called her that, at the end of your game against UConn.

“That’s what you are, Bueckers.” You say with a smile, eyeing her down and getting in her face just a little more. “Bitches lie, bitches make problems out of nothing.”

Her eye is fiercely trained on you, on the way your lips move as you degrade her. You can’t tell what she’s thinking in the slightest.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” She says softly.

Once again you two are staring in silence. The proximity is intoxicating, you can practically smell her clean clothes.

“Are you still fucking Elaine?”

“Hell no.” Paige shakes her head furiously. “That ended a while ago. We haven’t talked in like months.”

“She still has your location.” You grumble. “That’s how she knew I was with you at the restaurant.”

“Shit.” Paige groans, immediately pulling out her phone. “She interrupted us on purpose then? Psycho.”

You watch as she turns off her location for Elaine and blocks her before slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“We didn’t hookup for long.” Paige says, obviously feeling the need to explain herself. “Jus a couple times. I broke things off, she couldn’t accept how busy my schedule was.”

You shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Guess she couldn’t accept you and me either, huh?” Paige smirks, shooting you a ‘forgive me’ type look.

Ignoring the swell in your heart at the stupid comment, you just chuckle and shake your head.

“Do you wanna 1v1?” She asks almost sheepishly.

You think for a moment.

“You sure I’m on your level?”

Paige looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering what she said on her live. “Quit playin.” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, show me what you got.”

-

You’d be lying if you were to say you knew the score.

Was she taking score? You and Paige were equally insanely competitive, but this wasn’t a true test of skill. This was a test of endurance. A test to see who would break first.

You knew this when her hand grazed your waist as she darted past you to the other end of the court, or when she stared you down, tongue between her lips as she blocked your shot. You retaliated yourself, letting your hand linger a bit too long as you helped her up from the ground after tripping her up, or whistling at her as she makes another three.

The heavy breathing, the piercing stares, the cold air as the sun disappeared. You were in a zone you’d never been in before, somehow equally focused on the game and the girl.

You manage to steal the ball from Paige in a swift moment, but suddenly she’s in front of you again. Her hands dart for the ball, attempting to smack it out of your hand. She almost manages to steal it back, but your grip tightens just at the right moment.

She’s stuck to you, her hands attempting to pry the ball out of your own. You can hear her breath, you can see the beaded sweat on her forehead, you can feel her blue eyes watching you, watching your chest widen and shrink with every inhale and exhale, watching your lips.

It’s a replay of the college game that started all of this.

You struggle for a moment longer before the tousle is not longer controlled, the ball slips between both of your sweaty hands. You and Paige both scramble to save it, but it bounces out of your grasps and away from the court.

Neither of you chase after it.

She’s still up close to you, face flushed from the game.

“What was the score?” She huffs, out of breath. Paige’s voice is raspy and tired. You feel something spark inside of you.

“No clue.”

Paige’s face breaks into a small smirk as her hands find your waist, uncertain and soft, just barely ghosting your frame. “That was my ball.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, your heart hammering at the feeling of her eyes exploring every part of you, lingering on your lips before she finally leans in.

Paige’s lips are rough against yours, but fit perfectly as if moulded for your own. She melts into you, her hands finally tightening around your body, her face tilting just right so she can finally taste you. It’s something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. She kisses with a million emotions, with urgency, passion and the slightest bit of control. It’s electrical.

When you need to break the kiss to breath, you simply tug on her ponytail. You were not expecting the slight whimper as your lips part.

“M’ not done.” She mutters against you, catching her breath.

“I want you, P.” You whisper, looking up at her. Paige’s face immediately changes at this, lips tilting upward in an annoyingly charismatic way.

“I know you do, baby.” She murmurs. “Let me take you home.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #rpf #rivals to lovers #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #f/f #series

[erwinsvow]

have you ever written something where shy reader is too anxious to tell someone they got her order wrong or tell the lady at the nail salon she didn’t exactly like the color/shape

no but omg this is soooo real

getting your nails done was always fun—though sometimes, you leave with something completely different than what you came in wanting.

you found it hard to speak up to anyone, your nail tech included. instead you'd nod politely and smile sweetly when they were doing your nails.

it was just nails—it didn't matter if they were a little shorter than you wanted, or if the pink was a little more bubblegum than baby. they looked pretty and you avoided someone getting upset with you—you considered it a win-win situation.

and it was beginning to work itself out—you had discovered your favorite nail lady, the one who always understood what you wanted and didn't make you nervous when you'd show her the picture you'd brought for inspiration. and going today, you were expecting your appointment to be with her—like always.

until you found out she was home sick. normally you'd wait—but you were at the salon today specially since you were going to a party with rafe tonight, and the idea of going with your bare and currently very ugly nails seemed completely out of the question.

and even worse—rafe had brought you. you didn't want to turn to him and tell him to take you back home, not when he'd driven you all the way here and agreed to sit with you even though you're sure he doesn't want to.

so you suck it up—you show the new tech your photo, a pretty pink and white french tip with some bows and flowers, and hope for the best. she's doing fine, it looks like the picture for the most part.. except your nails are looking more square than round, and it's a little too long for your taste. she's about to start painting, telling you to go wash your hands.

you get up, heart thudding uncomfortably. you hate this about yourself—hate it worse than anyone else could. the nail lady couldn't care less if you ask for them shorter and rounder, but you can't bring yourself to do it. instead you stare down at your nails in the sink and feel like you might start crying.

rafe has a sixth sense—he can always tell when you're feeling upset. you don't know how he does it, just that he does.

all he had noticed was that you had stopped smiling back at him every few minutes about half way into the second hand getting done—and then just now, when you got up, you didn't look at him on your way to the sink.

rafe follows you there, a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. he's got a candy in his mouth, plucked from the bowl they keep near the entrance.

"what's wrong?" he comes out a little raspy, his tongue red.

"nothing," you reply, too quickly. you look up at him with your watery eyes, trying your hardest not to cry.

"c'mon, kid. what is it? someone say something?" he asks, turning around to where you were sitting and the two techs in the vicinity.

"no, no. nothing. it's just-" again, you hate this. you don't know why it's so hard to find the words, why they just don't want to come out. you swallow it down.

"what? you gotta tell me if you want me to help," he says, quieter, leaning in a little. you feel better immediately when he says it, but you still can't look up at him. you stare down at the too-long, too-square acrylics.

"it's not.. exactly what i wanted. i don't know how to tell them. i don't want them to be upset-"

"is that it?" rafe asks, and you look up quickly, eyes getting teary again. is he mad at you too now? your expression gives you away, lips turning into a sad pout. "baby, she doesn't care. they get paid either way. gotta ask for what you want."

"but i don't want her to-"

"s'okay. i'll tell her. c'mon. don't cry, it's fine."

you follow rafe back—cheeks burning with embarassmnet. bad enough that you can't ever speak up for yourself, now rafe is involved and he probably thinks you're some kind of child-

"stop overthinkin'. it's easy for me to tell her, it's harder for you. so i'll tell her, okay?" looking up at your boyfriend, your ears ring a little. you hear him talk to your tech—you see his mouth moving, maybe making out shorter and she likes round, okay?

you can't hear anything, it feels like there's music in your ears. the tech nods and smiles at you, fixing them and before your very eyes, your nails look exactly how you wanted them to. rafe pulls his chair closer to yours, a hand on your knee.

his words keep repeating in your head—stop overthinking. and like always, you listen to rafe.

[ambermeh]

The triplets on tour

Matt;

⋆ would be worried that he was being distant so would call you basically every night (if you weren't coming with them) and tell you about the day 'hey are you sure your okay I feel like I haven't spoke to you properly for a while' 'Matt we spoke yesterday, it's fine. Just enjoy tour'

⋆ probably be very tired so he would just want to here about your day while he recovered from the amount of talking and activites he has done that day 'tell me about what you did baby I am just going to listen okay?'

⋆ If you were not there for the whole tour I think you would arrange a surprise visit on one of the days with Chris and Nick and he would just spend the whole time cuddling in the tour bus and showing you round 'I still can't believe you're here. I missed you so much, you have to come next time because I cannot survive another night without you'

⋆ would send you a fit check every morning, just to get your opinion

⋆ the fans would want to see you so every once in a while you would get a message of a video of a fan saying how much they love you

Chris;

⋆ Would make a big fuss about leaving you and act all tough infront of everyone but really it breaks him a little bit 'just between us I am going to call you everyday and will literally come back home if you don't answer' 'Chris, I'm going to answer stupid'

⋆ Has a ridiculous amount of energy afterwards and will keep on talking to you through all hours of the night until he falls asleep 'so then I went to see Nick and you will not believe what happened....' 'Chris.... CHRIS' (Chris just snoring)

⋆ will have phone sex with you because he doesn't want you to be unsatisfied at home 'baby I need to hear your voice can you just talk me through it please' 'of course baby'

⋆ Sends photos with the whole crowd

⋆ is SO smug if he wins and uses it to his advantage 'guess who won, I'm now Kind Chris now'

⋆ If you came to one of the show he would literally stop as soon as he saw you and just run to you and hug you, would not leave your side the whole time (grabs onto your wrist) 'you are not leaving my side, Y/N'

Nick;

⋆ would send you texts saying how much he missed you

⋆ sends the most out of pockets voicemails because he just wants to tell you about what happened 'you need to be here because Chris was being so stupid on stage and just talking nonsense'

⋆ If you came to the tour for one of the nights he would be shocked. He would have offered for you to come but then after telling him you had work he left it. Once he saw you he would not stop screaming 'Why didn't you tell me? How didn't I know? I hate you for leaving me for so long.'

⋆ shows you around everywhere and has a cute little date as soon as you get out

⋆ would have a movie night on the tour bus, Nick falls asleep almost instantly though

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #nick sturniolo smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 25

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You wait out in the sun until you feel its sear. You glance over at the house then the yard and stand. You leave your sketchbook on the table.  

You’re restless, not just because of the unexpected events, but because your run-in with Peter, and your turbulent return. You take the glass of lemonade and take a gulp, nearly choking on it. It’s sickly sweet, to the point you can’t even swallow it. 

You spit your mouthful back into the cup and keep it with you. You just want to go home and hide. You want to be out of the way.  

You head go down the deck steps and drift along the hedges. You glance again at the glass doors. Cautiously, you pour the lemonade behind the bushes. The flavour alone has turned your stomach. 

You wander along, pondering the fence. Could you just go home? Is Steve coming back? They probably won’t even notice. It’s their day, not yours. 

You come back up the wooden stairs and cross the deck to the glass door. You shade your eyes and try to see through. You back up as you see Steve appear. He opens the doors from the other side and smiles down at you. 

“What’s up, sweetie?” He grins down at you, his eyes narrowing on the empty cup in your hand, “thirsty? Want some more?” 

“Um, no, thanks,” you hold out the cup. “I’m going to go home. To my mom’s house.” 

“Ah, sure,” he accepts the cup hesitantly, “you feeling tired?” 

You nod and hug yourself. He steps out and slides shut the door. He touches your shoulder, rubbing it firmly, and you take a step back. 

“How about I walk you around?” He offers. 

You shrug and turn back. You grab your book from the table as he follows. The empty cup clacks down on the table as he passes. He catches up with you at the bottom of the deck steps and he walks you up the side of the house, sure to reach over you to pull the gate open. He lets you through as you focus on your destination. 

“Hey, sweetie,” he calls after you, “just wanted to say, this is home, right?” He looks up at his house and you blanch. 

“Oh?” You frown. 

“We didn’t get to it but yeah, no point in having two houses between us. Just gotta pretty up that old place and put it on the market,” he explains, “it’ll help pay for your mom’s care.” 

“Uh, right,” you teethe the inside of your lower lip. 

“Better start packing,” he winks.  

“Mhmm,” you hum flatly. 

“Anyway, you go get some sleep but if you need anything, you know where to find me,” he says. 

“Sure,” you murmur and turn away. 

You slink around the fence and down the pavement. You turn up your mother’s walk and keep your head down. As you get to the porch, you look up and stare at the front door. Everything is changing and you’re terrified. 

🏠

You put your sketchbook on the dresser, too uneasy to open it again. You have all this energy that you can’t center. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re stuck in that strange limbo brewing with dread and impatience. You want the change to happen already just to be done with it. Just to know what awaits you. 

You change into pajamas and tuck into bed. You only lay there an hour before you give up. You just can’t sleep. It’s so strange to be there all alone. Even if you know your mom’s just next door. 

You get up and tramp out to the front room. You turn on the television and find an old movie playing on the public channel. You lay down beneath the old quilt pulled down from over the back of the couch and one of the deflated cushions that came with the furniture. 

You yawn but you’re still painfully awake. You focus on the screen, your eyes glazing over with the shifting colours, as the low drone tickles your ears. The night hazes on in the glare of the television. You’re kept at the threshold of sleep by your anxiety, drifting slightly only to wake again, head pulsing and eyes itchy. 

The house feels alive as you hear new noises. Or ones you never noticed before. The breeze has a tree brushing against the eaves and the crickets seems to be louder than usual. And the walls and floors are obscured as you can’t see past the glow of the TV. 

You force your eyes shut and try to will your mind to stop. It's too much. You lay paralysed, trapped between the urge to get up and go to your bed and the exhaustion that keeps you from moving.  

A low, creaking sound crawls over you. What is that? It’s just your imagination. You’re overthinking it. Maybe it’s the TV, you’ve lost track of the plot. You blink at the screen as you hear a click which doesn’t align with the scene playing out. Your heart lurches and your eyes widen. 

Is that the back door? You’re trapped in horror. You don’t know what to do. Someone is there. You can hear them coming down the hall, stopping just short of the front room. Another whisper of hinges. They’re in your room. Oh god! What do you do? 

The retreat and their footsteps close in on you. The figure fills the doorway and you stare at it, trying to pick it out of the fuzzy darkness. You sit up and whimper, “please, don’t hurt me.” 

The silhouette looms, unmoving and unspeaking. You can hear it breathing. You shudder and brace yourself. 

The light flicks on and stings your vision. You cower as Steve stands in the shine of the overhead bulb. You gasp and bring your hand to your chest, trying to calm your heart. His eyes gleam oddly a his jaw squares and you see him force the tension from it. 

“Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles, “I was just coming to check in.” 

You blink and look around, “what time...” 

“I know it’s late, sorry. Your mom’s been up and down all night and I finally got her asleep. I wanted to make sure everything was okay over here...” he steps up and frames his hips, “you didn’t lock the doors.” 

You stare at him. You didn’t. You forgot. The realisation scares you all over again. 

“You okay?” 

You nod and gulp. You’re not. His eyes flick down then up. You pull the quilt up over your chest as you feel the cotton of your tee shirt grazing your hard nipples. The chill in your spine has yet to recede. 

“You don’t have to stay here,” he offers, “if it’s too much.” 

“I...” you watch him, trembling as his eyes keep that glimmer. They look dark, as if they’re dilated. You wet your lips with your tongue. “I’m okay, I’m just...” your gaze skitters over to the TV, “watching a movie.” 

He clucks and steps into the room, “oh, what are we watching?” 

You sit up complete and fold yourself into a ball in the corner of the couch. He nears and sits on the other end. You glance at him and force the lump from your throat. 

“Um, I didn’t get the title. It’s an older movie.” 

“Ah,” he lifts his arm over the back of the couch, “mind if I join? Can't sleep.” 

“Er, I guess...” you mutter. How can you say no? He's already sat down. 

“I don’t mind if you stretch out,” he says and pats his lap, “put your feet up, it won’t bother me.” 

You shake your head, “I’m fine.” 

“Mmm,” his eyes reflect the light of the screen as he stares ahead. He’s watching it but something about his expression, the stone in his cheeks and the lines in his forehead, suggests that he isn’t really taking it in. “Thought you’d be knocked out, kiddo. After a day like today.” 

You don’t know how to reply so you don’t. You turn your attention to the movie. The black-and-white images are softened at the edges despite the remastered edition. You lean your chin in your hand and try to follow the dialogue. 

“Not exactly how I imagined my wedding day, either,” he says as his fingers twiddle on the back of the couch. “Funny how life is full of surprises.” 

“Mhm,” you hum, rubbing your cheek nervously. 

“Or my weddings night,” he scoffs as he pinches the fabric along his thigh, sucking his teeth, “I suppose I’m not what you expected either?” 

“Huh?” You flinch and look at him, “what do you mean?” 

He inhales and lets it out slowly, “just... you know... it’s all happened so fast, didn’t it?” 

“Oh, right,” you turn to the screen again, “I... yeah.” 

“Don’t worry, sweetie, we can figure this out,” he coos, “as a family.” 

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #au #silverfox au #captain america #avengers

[wasteddmoondust]

car mirror selfies || james potter

pairing: james potter x bestfriend's sister!reader 826 words, reader is sirius' little sister, secret relationship at the start, accidental announcement?????, suggestive joke towards the end. a/n: THIS CAME TO ME WHEN I SAW A TWEET BUT I LOST THE TWEET (also, not proofread pls be nice)

"When do you think we should tell them?"

You're with James. You're right next to him but you're also with him romantically.

It just sort of happened. One of those moments where you're hanging out and he just leans in and you also lean in and suddenly you're kissing. It's been very slow and sweet between the both of you since then.

As much as your now boyfriend would love to scream from the top of the hills about you, there's just one tiny problem.

"You want me, your girlfriend, to tell your best friend, my brother, that we are dating?"

"Well, Remus too-"

"Still! You see my point."

James lets out an exasperated sigh and shrugs. "We'll have to tell him eventually."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "I feel like at this point I rather him find out accidentally."

You should probably watch what you wish for.

It's Saturday afternoon, before your bi-weekly hangouts with your brother and his friends. Sirius had told you and James to meet at his car which was parked in the mall car park while he and Remus ran errands.

Five minutes pass by since the both of you arrive, and the other two are nowhere to be seen. It's not likely for them to be late, but you'd still let it slide.

"I wonder what's taking them so long..." you say. You decide to take out your lip gloss and reapply it, using the car's window as a mirror.

James smiles at you. He loves the way you concentrate and slowly apply it onto your lips and smack them together when you're done. He knows you'd kiss him on the cheek later and he'll keep the gloss stain on for as long as he could.

"Come here, babe," he says, using his arm to wrap around your neck as he pulls you closer to him. He pulls out his phone and aims the camera at the window. He starts to snap a photo.

"Cute," you say, smiling.

The both do a few poses. Smiles, sticking out tongues. You pucker your lips to pose, and James presses a kiss to his cheek and takes a photo of that, and you kiss his cheek back.

Just then, the car window slowly winds down.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Sirius asks, his brows furrowed and mouth agape.

You've never wanted to bury yourself underground so badly in your life until this moment.

The three of you are in silence for what felt like forever. James breaks it first.

"We were... taking selfies?" Wow. James, the love of your life, cannot even save his own life.

Sirius gets straight to the point. "How long has this been going on?" he asks.

You decide to speak this time. "Like... three weeks ago?"

He raises his brows, he looks curious now. "Before or after March 31st?"

"Before."

Sirius gasps, so loud that you and James flinch. He claps his hands, the sound echoing through the underground car park. "Remus owes me so much money!" he exclaims.

What?

"You bet on us?" you almost yell, once you realise what he said.

Sirius laughs. "On New Year's, Remus said he thought you two would get together by the end of the year. I knew better, you'd have it solved by March." He shrugs.

You scoff, "I can't believe this."

"Oh come on, I believed in you! You finally did something!"

James cuts in. "I made the first move," he announces confidently.

Sirius turns to look at him, his face now deadpan. "You're my best mate, James. But if you hurt my sister don't think I won't hunt you down."

James backs up suddenly, losing all said confidence. He mumbles an 'okay'.

You look at your brother. "You're not mad?"

"Why should I be? If anything, I rather have you be with James than some random git." The look on your face doesn't change much. He sighs. "You know what? Fine, I'm happy for both of you and I only want the best for you, blah blah blah. Are you happy now? Get in the car, and hold hands or whatever, I'm fine with it."

You and James look at each other. He smiles at you and shrugs, opening the door for you to enter. He gets in with you and doesn't hesitate to link his arm with yours, intertwining your fingers together. He squeezes your hand, and you know it's for reassurance.

Sirius happily sighs from the driver's seat, watching the two of you from the interior mirror. "Ah, young love," he says, crossing his arms.

"Please shut up, you're just a year older than me," you say. "I still can't believe you bet on us like that."

"Be happy for me! I'm now a whole one grand richer."

"You bet one thousand?!"

"Yes. But honestly? Remus can just repay me with some really good he-"

You kick the back of his seat.

a/n: i know it's not teacher and james but!!!! don't worry babes have this in the mean time, may this be the start of my motivation coming back. thank you guys! <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated

#marauders x reader #marauders imagine #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter imagine #zee writes

[ohbabydollie]

currently imagining a jaded, deadpan lit teacher!schlatt. super intelligent, incredible teacher that all his students adore and love to learn from, but they all swear to god they’ve never seen him smile once

then comes along absolute ray of sunshine teacher!y/n, probably teaching some kind of fine art, and it is just like a moth to a flame. he cannot stay away from you!

you meet for the first time in the teacher’s lounge and he’s a little taken aback, he doesn’t know what it is about you but something makes his little brain flip a switch and it’s all sunshine and rainbows. not much longer after that, you start becoming friends, sharing cool little things about your interests or the subjects you teach.

he does a pretty good job of hiding these feelings from the kids, just because he wants to keep that side of him private from his students, but one day he slips up. you sneak in during a class of his during your free period to return a book he recommended to you. when you walked out, he had no idea that he was smiling but apparently the students noticed.

“mr. schlatt, were you just smiling?”

“finish your essay.”

also am i allowed to be 🥥 anon

ofc, welcome 🥥 anon

before you came along schlatt was the most obviously exhausted and stressed teacher, but his students loved him.

from stapling mcdonald’s job applications on failed tests to talking about his cats. his students very clearly loved him and adored him, but he just seemed so sad in a way, especially when one of them got him to talk about his dating life.

single, with multiple failed dates under his belt

then you transferred to the school after the last art teacher had quit.

he had heard about you from his students, the new young single art teacher making sure to emphasize on the single part, but he always told them to focus on getting their assignment done over focusing on the teachers dating lives.

he really didn’t care for you, probably would be done in a few weeks if you couldn’t handle how rowdy and rough some of these kids could be. he gave you a month at best.

then you came into the teacher’s lounge getting snack after snack out of the vending machine as he watched in silence. not out of judgement, but he was just mesmerized completely

the concentration on your face as you punched in number after number watching the snacks fall before grabbing a cardboard box to place it all in was all so adorable to him, he didn’t even realize he had been staring until you looked over at him with a big smile.

“hi, i don’t believe we’ve met!” you chirp, “i’m y/n the new art teacher” you say extending out a hand for him to shake. he politely takes it, giving you a semi-awkward smile

“i’m jay, i teach english in b103” he says feeling himself turn red

“oh wow! i’m only down the hall from you, my room is c102” you say parting from the hand shake and picking up your box “well i’ll see you around” you say pushing the door open

and just like that you were gone as soon as you came

and schlatt had a new goal in mind, you

the next period he had came back better than ever. his normally deadpan and tired voice had more excitement and life to it and his students noticed for sure, waiting until the lesson was over to pry into him, but they all got the same response.

“jus added a shot of expresó into my coffee this mornin” he says starting to grade the assignments from his last class.

they had assumed that was it, nothing more to it until the next week where he seemed to be radiating with joy, when they pried into him again all he said was, “jus had some coffee from my favorite spot this mornin, nothin else”

he hadn’t mentioned it was with you.

over the next few months they noticed more and more change, fixing his hair more often, wearing his nicer clothes and whatever he could to look better.

as a student asked “so who’s the lucky lady?”

you had walked in holding a book, causing the room to fall silent. you practically floated to his desk as everyone watched you.

“hey, thanks for letting me borrow your copy, it was really good” you say handing him the book

“oh..it’s no problem, anytime” he says softly as you smile

“ ‘kay, well i’ll see you later, oh and your glasses are a little smudged” you say heading to leave as he watches in awe.

once you’re out, he’s taking off his glasses, smiling to himself with a small chuckle as he cleans them off, basking in the moment, completely forgetting his students were there until someone speaks up.

“mr. schlatt, are you smiling?” he asks teasingly before schlatt immediately drops the smile and goes deadpan again

“finish your assignment before i fail you”

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff #🥥 anon

[lunajay33]

Forbidden💋

Summary: You craved your gym teacher, you’ve always wanted more with him than just your favorite teacher and he knew it

Pairing: Coach Negan x f!reader student(18)

Warning: 18+

•Masterlist•

Song suggestion: As Soon as the Good Times Roll- Scorpions

I loved gym not because of the easy grade or anything, more because the teacher was drop dead gorgeous and everything I craved, he’d go around with these basketball short and baseball hat and tight black shirt and it just made my body tingle, he’s my favorite teacher I go to him whenever I have problems and he’s always there to help but along the way I wanted more than just teacher student I want him to just throw me over his desk and take me but there’s one probably, well other than him being my teacher…..I’m a virgin, reminding me today in gym when it was sex Ed, our annual class that was taught for a day instead of usual gym activities

“Okay class settle down, it’s sex Ed today” everyone groans and some laugh mostly the girls and boys that flaunt their sex lives out in the open like everyone should know

“I know nobody wants to talk about this with there teacher but it’s the rules” the class went on like usual telling us to use protection to be safe, the risks and everything and now it’s question time

“Any questions?”

“Sir does it hurt” I ask then everyone erupts in laughter, I feel the blood rush to my face

“Oh my god, you’re a virgin what a loser” one of the preppy girls says and I can feel my lip tremble trying to keep the tears at bay

“That’s enough, Ashley detention, everyone else class is dismissed” everyone filters to the change rooms and I take more time being the last one in there, I sigh sitting down on the bench after changing, this was going to be the talk of the school, like I didn’t have enough stress with school anyways, I leave the change room when Mr. Smith stops me

“Hey kid come to my office” I follow him anxiously sitting in the chair across from his desk he closes the door and locks it then sitting behind his desk

“You okay?” He asks looking me up and down

“I shouldn’t have asked that I’m sorry”

“Ain’t got nothing to be sorry about it was a normal question”

“I was just curious and now I’m completely embarrassed, everyone thinks I’m a loser for being a virgin”

“Nothing to be ashamed of darlin, but since we’re alone do you have any other questions?” He asks leaning against his desk

“Umm….im not sure I really don’t know anything about this stuff, I’ve never done anything so I don’t know what it feels like”

“Oh I think you know a thing or two, when you look at someone and your eyes wonder lower, your body gets hot and you clench your legs together to ease the ache” his voice gets deeper and my eyes are blown wide with shock

“Mr.Smith what’re you talking about” I feel on fire right now but he wasn’t completely wrong about what he said, it’s hard to keep my eyes off him in gym

“I think we’re well past Mr.Smith, Negan is fine love, I’ve seen you look at me in class, your eyes drift lower until you’re starring right at my dick” he states walking around the desk leaning back on it infront of me

“W..what no of course not you’re my teacher”

“Come on baby, don’t lie we both know you can’t lie to me” he smirks kneeling infront of me placing his hands on my thighs, i sigh knowing he was right he’s always been able to get the truth out of me

“Fine, was it that obvious?” Now I’m embarrassed for a different reason

“Only to me, I’ve had my eye on you, always such a good girl”

“Negan can you…..can you show me how it feels?” Holding my breath until he answered

“You sure that’s what you want Angel?”

“Please I can’t wait any longer I need you” I say as I clench my legs together

“Good girl” he picked me up with ease laying me back down on the desk knocking over pencils and pens, he wrapped my legs around his waist his bulge pushing against my pussy

His fingers playing with the hem of my pants

“You ready?” I nodded frantically

He undid the button pulling my pants and panties off in one pull, my pussy now bare to him, I covered myself with my hand feeling insecure, no one’s ever seen me like this let alone a drop dead gorgeous man

He grabbed my hand pushing it back onto the desk just admiring me, it feels like his eyes are burning fire through me

“Look at this pretty pussy, so wet just for me” I feel his fingers push through my folds circling around my clit making me gasp at a sudden shock running through me

Pulling his shorts down letting his dick free, slapping it against my clit

“Negan please I need it” I whined feeling the pressure of him pushing in finally feeling it pop, that painful but pleasuring feeling coursed through me making me grind down on him just wanting more

“Fuck baby so tight, you alright?” He asked gripping my hips harder

“Yes god please more” I reach up holding his bicep for leverage as he slides in more until he’s flush against me leaning down so our lips are brushing against eachother, sitting in the feeling for a moment of him completely sheathed inside me

“God you do things to me sweetheart, imma show you how a real man fucks” he started off slowly until his thrusts were deep and hard hitting that sweet spot over and over my vision going spotty

“Oh Negan right there!” I dig my nails into his arm not knowing what to do with all this pleasure it was almost too much but god was he good

“You like that baby, you take me so well, so tight around my dick” his words pushed me over the edge about to scream when his hand clamps over my mouth as my body is racked with white hot pleasure feeling liquid drip down my legs

“Fuck fuck” I hear him groan when he pulls out and cums all over my pussy mixing with my release

“Look at you, so pretty and just for me hot damn” his thumb drags through my folds mixing his cum against my sensitive clit making me shake, leaning up on my arms to watch him do it

“How was that for your first time baby?”

“I……I think I wanna do it again” all he does is smirk

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that we’ll be doing this a lot more often now that you’re mine”

#twd fanfiction #negan x y/n #negan x you #negan smut #negan #negan x reader #negan imagine #negan fanfiction #the walking dead negan #negan smith #twd negan #negan smith series #negan smith smut #negan smith x y/n #negan smith x you #coach Negan

[brucewaynehater101]

I'm so glad you like it! Honestly, I'm pretty jealous as well. Though, I don't doubt he has the white noise generator and uses it on more than just those trips. Could you imagine Bruce and the other Bats going to the Supers, Clark, Kon, Kara, and Jon (who if I remember correctly has the best ears out of all of them) and when asked to track him down by sound, all of them are just like, "Red Robin? Oh no we can't do that." and when asked why, Clark gets nervous and says, "well. None of us have ever been able to hear his heart beat. We don't know what tech or magic he uses but *none* of us have ever been able to hear his heart. Not since he was 15. I asked you one time why I couldn't hear him and you just hummed at me!"

Meanwhile panic is rising in not just the hero community, but also the villain one. Red Robin has a *lot* of connections and if someone took or heaven forbid killed him? The Gothem Rouges remember what happened when the second Robin died, they know how bad Batman got. Now the Robin who saved them from him is gone? And now Nightwing and Red Hood and Spoiler and all the rest are on a Hunt, getting more violent like Batman did? Oh no, they are all going into hiding until this blows over.

Then there's also the villains connected to members of Young Justice. The Flash's Rouges Gallery hears that one of the Mini Speedsters is in a grief spiral and could end up seriously hurting them because one of his best friends has gone missing and is presumed dead? Fuck No. They are keeping their noses clean until it's done. So are the people who tend to antagonize Metropolis because Kon is *not* holding back. He grabbed Matallo and used his TTK to make him fall into thousands of pieces and then just stared down at him with a cold look of anger before leaving. Dr Light when to the ER when he tried to mess with the Teen Titans while both Dick and Damian were still on call and Tim was missing.

On day four of Tim being missing, Damian's head suddenly snaps up and he says, "I need to check a tracker." and the rest of the Bats follow him to the bat computer. When asked what he is doing, Damian admits, "a few years ago when I still hated Timothy, I put a tracker inside of his favorite camera, which he just so happened to bring with him on his trip. It may still be there and if he has his camera-" a few moments later, there is a ping on the screen showing the tracker is o the move, currently crossing the boarder from Kentucky into West Virginia. Tim has no idea what hell is coming for him, mostly because he figured that the Bats knew he did this every other month to unwind and relax. Traveling on a train for 4 to 6 days is his version of a vacation.

Glad for the add on. However, I think the angst reason for Tim "not having a heartbeat" would be because Kon died.

After Kon died, Tim created the machine to make sure no one else could hear his heartbeat (especially because Kon wasn't around for that anymore). When Kon came back, it was still a rough time for Tim. He was practically a feral and distrustful raccoon. Since he's still working on trusting people again, his heartbeat is still hidden (plus Kon hasn't brought it up, so Tim kind of forgot).

The stuff about the rogues is so true! That's why a few fanworks call Tim the "heart" of the batfam. I think all members play important roles and will similarly be missed. The heart comment is a cute nod to his role as a bridge and leash (he helped B obtain a larger support group and prevented him from killing people).

I like that this has Damian being the one to find out. Though Tim is grateful there's was a way for his family to find him while they were freaked out (he thought they knew about it), he's also exasperated at the tracker's existence. He probably pulls a prank on Damian for it.

Also, Tim 100% brings this incident back up with Bruce whenever the man complains about Tim's habit of overworking. He looks his father in the eyes and says, "The last time I took a vacation, you freaked out and mobilized the entire hero community to find me." They both know that's not what happened, but Tim is also not wrong.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!! #dc au #damian wayne #bruce wayne #kon el superboy

[steam-beasts]

The Chaos Continues

Sir Topham Hatt stared silently at the sight of what he was mostly sure were his engines, hugging eachother for comfort in their strange new bodies.

Bertram had went through many things during his time as controller; nearly losing the No.1 of his railway not once, not twice, but five times. Finding out some of his diesel engines were holding some of his steam engines hostage, getting his office blown up thanks to a former Navy man, witnessing his very expensive top link express engine nearly have a boiler explosion, having to go hunt his tank engine that was kidnapped by a rally car, dealing with one of his engines having a meltdown over the changes. The last and most stressful thing he went through was being forced to watch his poor engines practically mutate into beastly creatures and abandon them for nearly two years.

Now, it was this.

You know what? He needed to sit down. Sir Topham Hatt groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he simply made his way back to his office, he didn't want to deal with this right now. As soon as he got there, he didn't even bother with shutting the door and sat down at his desk "...oh dear, oh dear...why do things like these keep happening..?" He groaned, rubbing his temple. Sometimes he wished he could've done more to prevent any of this from happening, but then again, how could he have known this would happen?

Before he could try to think of anything else, the stationmaster suddenly ran into his office, looking quite stressed out "Sir! There's trouble in the sheds!"

Sir Topham Hatt's eyes widened and his throat felt dry, he almost dreaded to ask, but he tried to keep his composure as he stood up "What's happening?"

The stationmaster looked very hesitant "Emily, Edward, Henry and Gordon. Th-They...well...erm" Topham walked up to him, stern but anxious. The stationmaster yelped as the stout gentleman pulled him down to eye level "My engines have what?! Spit it out, lad!"

"I believe it would be better if you saw for yourself, Sir"

________________

Down at Tidmouth, each the engines' crews were standing outside their respective engine's berth, muttering anxiously to one other. They could hear their engines letting out distressed whistles from inside, but wanted Sir Topham Hatt to see to it. Edward's oldest crew, Charlie Sand Jr and Sidney Heaver Jr noticed Thomas's new crew, Mr Conductor and Junior coming out from around the corner.

"Ah, Mr C!" Charlie exclaimed, jogging over to the pixie man "Charlie, is something wrong?" Mr Conductor asked, quickly noticing the worry."Well...yes, actually. You see, um... we're in a bit of a–"

"Oh! Are ye's on strike? I dinnae think Hattie would be too happy aboot that!" Junior interrupted cheekily, earning a small glare from Mr Conductor. Charlie rolled his eyes "No, we're waiting for Sir, actually. Because..." He then glanced at the sheds "...well, something has happened to our engines" he admitted.

"What's going on with Edward?" The conductor asked. Sidney then spoke up "It's not just Edward. Something happened to Gordon and Henry as well, and Emily too" Junior quickly frowned, now realising the matter was probably serious "They... they cannae be gaun feral again, can they? Ah thought we sorted that oot?". Charlie shook his head "No, they're mentally ok. Physically?...I'd rather not say until Sir Topham Hatt's arrived"

Mr Conductor winced and gazed over at the shut doors of Edward's berth, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Conveniently, they saw Sir Topham Hatt driving up to the sheds in his car. As soon as he parked, he came jogging out, trying to keep his hat on his head. As soon as he reached the ground of men and women before him, he took a deep breath, carefully looking at their expressions to assume the severity of the situation before speaking "Alright. What's all the fuss?"

Charlie Sand carefully approached the fat controller and guided him to Gordon's berth doors, opening the door by a few cracks "They're in here, Sir" he said quietly, worry evident on his face. Sir Topham Hatt nodded gravely and stepped inside.

He felt his heart sink to his stomach and skip a beat as soon as he saw them. Edward, Henry and Gordon had went through the same fate as Percy and the others. They were pressed up against the back wall, huddled close to each other. They stared down at Sir Topham Hatt, fear evident in their eyes.

"...Sir?" Edward whispered, the first one to say anything. Edward was quite a skinny looking creature, but he was a little bit top-heavy and quite muscular, as well as fit looking for his age, so were the other two. Though, Gordon and Henry were both on the heavier side.

"Sir...please, I-I don't know what happened to us. We were normal for one minute and the next...this" Edward explained, understandably shaken. Sir Topham put his hand up to silence him, and so he did.

"I'm not mad, Edward. Not at any of you..." he began, masking his own worry "I understand that this was out of your control, but we'll just have to make do for now. Now, where's Emily?"

Henry whimpered and pointed "She's over there, Sir..."

Topham looked over to where Henry pointed. Indeed, Emily was there, and naked. She was basically a giant naked lady. Sir Topham Hatt quickly and for Emily's sake, looked away as soon as he caught a glimpse of her body, coughing with embarrassment "Ahem! Erm...hello, Emily" he coughed.

"Oh, hello, Sir!"

Sir Topham Hatt knew this was gonna be a long week...

To be continued...

#thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #monster engines #ttte thomas #ttte gordon #ttte edward #ttte james #ttte henry #ttte sir topham hatt #ttte humanoid #ttte humanisation #ttte humanized #ttte emily #gordon the big engine #henry the green engine #edward the blue engine

[tvb0y]

Hey Guys!

Sorry about being absent for a couple of days, but there is something extremely important I would like to share with you all.

SO I guess my parents decided that yeah; maybe letting their "daughter" on social media isn't the best idea. ( This is mostly because of their strict nature and things i've done to myself in the past from stress) So without me knowing, they took away tumblr on my phone and drawing tablet. ( Really just put a 1 minute timer on it. )

In technical terms, yes I could still use my computer for tumblr. But this is my homeschool laptop meaning once school is out, I no longer have access to it. And I will be going back to public school next year.

So it is with deep sadness I tell all of you. That I will be off tumblr by the end of May.

I will keep this account up, even though if I eventually come back I will probably start up a new one. And again, I'm so sorry for leaving tumblr so early, I really wish I could've stayed longer to form longer bonds with my mutuals and followers. I wish I could've shared more art. But in some way, This is for the better. I don't want to get addicted and then get hurt because of this.

I will still post on here from time to time until the end of may, But after that. I will be gone, unless I somehow get my computer back.

I'm sorry and i've really enjoyed the time i've spent with all of you :)

Goodbye.

#goodbye #i'm sorry guys #my blog #I'll miss all of you very dearly. #tvb0y

[anifever]

Ponyboy Curtis Blurbs ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Ponyboy Curtis x Reader (fem kinda implied)

୨୧ : Blurbs/hc’s about Ponyboy and being in a relationship with him

A/N : Idek what this is and it’s short but I love him. Also the first ‘fanfic’ I’ve ever posted so bare with me…

˖⁺‧₊˚ 💌 ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ He ABSOLUTELY writes you love letters/poetry and slips in in your locker

୨ Was probably too embarrassed the first few times & just kept them to himself, but you found them one day and brought it up to him and he’s done it ever since

୨ Laying together on his and Soda’s bed, your head in his lap while he reads to you

୨ Cuddling and one of the boys barging in (he proceeds to get DOGGED ON by the guys and Darry makes you leave the door cracked)

୨ Johnny was the first to find out about his feelings for you. He ended up telling Soda, but then it got out to the entire gang

୨ He was teased about it constantly- mainly by Steve, Two, and Dallas

୨ Study dates 🤭🤭

୨ Old couples always gushing about ‘young love’ when you’re out in public together

୨ Him constantly insisting on walking you home and to/from anywhere in general

୨ It’s kinda canon he gets flustered easily so him getting sososo embarrassed whenever you compliment or kiss him/simply be affectionate

୨ Him using your initial as a variable for math classes ?)28/82&2&:&

୨ Very expected, but always watching the sunset together

୨ Tries so hard to be tuff in front of the gang but he always melts when it comes to you

୨ Keeping a heart locket with a pic of you and him in it

୨ In turn, he has a pic of you in his wallet

୨ Always going to the drive-in together then debriefing the movies after

୨ Going to a school dance together and him being all bushy and nervous- the guys obviously teasing you again but also being sweet

୨ ^^^ Darry yapping about “no funny business”

୨ Cheering him on from the sidelines during track meets

୨ Comforting him after he has an argument with Darry

୨ Along with that, he probably smarts off to Darry when your name is brought up. If Darry says you’re a ‘distraction,’ Pony will be having none of that

୨ Getting caught under a mistletoe during Christmas at the Curtis house and him malfunctioning + getting teased by the boys (ONCE AGAIN)

୨ Hanging out with him and Johnny and kissing him on the cheek before getting up to use the bathroom or something, and him giving Johnny a lil’ sly smirk with bright red cheeks once you walk away

୨ Constantly trying to get him to quit smoking; it’s hard but he’s at least down from 2 packs a day because of you

୨ Fussing whenever he comes back from a rumble, but never hesitating to help fix him up even if he might grumble about ‘being fine’

୨ Passing notes to each other during classes

୨ Two-Bit yelling stupid shit like “use protection” when you go ANYWHERE by yourselves, even if you’ll just be gone a split second

୨ Speaking of going places yourselves, Darry’s extremely hesitant/strict about it for multiple reasons

୨ Probably has ‘the talk’ with you guys and you’re both extremely uncomfortable- sitting there like 🧍🧍‍♀️

୨ Him giving you book recommendations, vice versa

୨ He’s the type of person to prefer holding pinkies- at least in public or until you guys are around Soc’s and he gets protective

୨ If this is all during the events of The Outsiders- you going to the church with Dallas and telling him & Johnny off for being idiots but also being extremely worried

୨ Making him keep his hair un-greased more often so you can play with it

୨ Overall, sososo much teasing from the rest of the guys LMAO

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x you #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy #ponyboy michael curtis #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy curtis x you #80s #ponyboy imagine #ponyboy oneshot #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders imagine #ponyboy blurb #ponyboy headcanons

[aesthetictarlos]

Adorable prompt by @shxyerahol : Buck and Tommy date night at painting with a twist. Buck is not a great artist and has a hard time keeping up with the instructor but Tommy is phenomenal (headcanon taken by the fact that Lou is a fantastic painter IRL).

I really liked writing this one, hope you like it too ❤️

Buck should've probably seen this coming, but when Tommy invited him to a date night at painting with a twist, he eagerly agreed without stopping to think of the implication of that nor the reason why Tommy was so enthusiastic about the idea of painting together.

Truth is, he loves spending time with Tommy, no matter what they do or where they go, and he's absolutely enjoying this date, too, but he's also struggling. The instructor is nice and definitely very good at her job, but Buck's having a hard time keeping up with what she says. Or rather, he understands what she says but struggles to do what he's supposed to, because he sucks at drawing and painting, and art is not his thing at all.

He's trying, okay? He's trying to follow her instructions and use the right brush and the right colour but he's pretty sure he's making a mess, even if the instructor keeps encouraging and complimenting him.

It's date night, so they're supposed to make complementary paintings and they can't see each other's paintings until the end.

Tommy's sitting opposite from him, their respective canvas in the middle, so he can't exactly see anything but his face, but he can tell that his boyfriend is perfectly at ease. He doesn't even ask questions to the instructor, he's lost in painting and there's a little wrinkle on the bridge on his nose that tells Buck that he's deeply concentrated.

It's a sight to behold, honestly, and Buck gets a bit distracted until the instructor prompts him to go on, giving him some advice. He's supposed to be painting a half-heart shaped wave, using the colours of the bi flag, and it's not that bad but he's not sure it's going to be nice either.

"I'm done," Tommy announces five minutes later, and Buck widens his eyes in disbelief.

"What? How's that possible?" He asks, frowning as he takes in his own painting. He's barely finished with the background. "I still have to paint the wave, you're cheating."

Tommy chuckles, tilting his head. "I'm not cheating, I'm done for real. You wanna see?"

"I wish," Buck says, rolling his eyes.

"You can, if you want," the instructor chimes in. "It's not really a rule that you can't see your partner's painting before you've done with yours, just something I suggest to make things funnier," she says, inspecting Tommy's canvas. "Besides, I think that your boyfriend here might be really helpful."

Buck is very, very curious now, so he stands up, rounds the table and– oh boy, Tommy has painted is a masterpiece. He's not an expert, but he can recognize a wonderful painting when he sees one, and Tommy's definitely is.

He's used the gay flag colours to paint the wave, and he's also added a lot of details that make it look real. He's stunned and speechless, and can't help but stare in awe at the canvas and then at his boyfriend.

"Baby, it's amazing. I didn't know you were so talented," he says, surprised. "You're an artist, and a damn good one."

"Uh– Yeah, I would call myself an artist. I never mentioned that but I– I paint in my free time," Tommy admits, smiling sheepishly. "I've started doing that a few months after I came back from my tour in Iraq, and it helped a lot. I've never stopped since then, it's something I really like and apparently I'm also good at that."

"You are," Buck says, squeezing his shoulder. "And it's nice that art is one of your hobbies. I'm so bad at it, but it's calming and it definitely helps to clean your mind."

"It does. It's the reason why I started painting in the first place," Tommy replies, and then stands up and pokes him in the ribs. "So, you could use some help?"

Buck chuckles, blushing as he nods. He sits in front of his canvas again, and lets Tommy guide his hand, his body strong behind his and his breath fanning the side of his face. He's even more distracted now, but he manages to finish the painting with Tommy's help and when they put their two canvases next to one another, Buck feels warmth spreading around his ribs. The painting is far from perfect, and Tommy's definitely better than his own, but it's theirs and he thinks it's wonderful.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #buck and tommy #tevan #kinley #bucktommy fic #accepting prompts #tumblr prompt #allie writes #my writing #my fic #fluff #short ficlet #ficlet

[ttulipwritezz]

King Of My Heart (Body And Soul)~ R. Lupin.

Chapter 4 - Kings And Queens 

Ootp! Remus Lupin x Sirius's sister!Reader

Synopsis: When James and Lily died, and your brother was sent to Azkaban, Remus was the only person you had left. Until he left too. What happens when he returns after the events of Sirius's escape, only to find out you have a son? A son that's his.

WC: 2k

 Warnings: lots of italics, probably grammatical mistakes, kiss(es), might be ooc idk, child (?), fem reader, italics are flashbacks ( idk), love (ew), Sirius is back, mentions of torture, abuse, walburga black, abandonment, mentions Of attempts to suicide, mental health issues, young parents.

A/n: So.....I'm updating after two months... nice. anyway, thanks sm for all the love and support y'all gave on this series, i promise i'll update sooner now lol. I put in lotta effort into this chapter, so i hope you enjoy. If you like this, please reblog and comment! <3 (p.s. the series isn't over lol it has a few more to go.)

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A gasp echoes through the empty corridor.

Not yours…

Regulus's.

"He is my father?"

The words escape him with such hatred 

"Dove i-"

Remus's eyes widened at the endearment. 

"Professor Lupin is my father? Why didn't you ever tell me!?"

You can hear the anger in his voice. It makes you question yourself again. 

Why does everyone think it’s your fault?

Regulus glances between you and Remus. You’re certain you see tears prick in the corners of his eyes. His face is red, much like his fathers.

While you collect your thoughts, he takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes abruptly, he repeats.

“Why didn’t you-” 

His voice seems to choke up towards the end.

 "I didn't deem it necessary Reg-"

Attempting to keep a level head you tried to explain yourself before your son cut you off.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!" 

Now he’s done it.

"Regulus! You will not raise your voice at your mother!" 

Your eyes go wide, you say the words with a booming voice. 

The whole house seems to quake. You couldn't help the parts of your mother, walburga, that seeped into you. You were her daughter after all. 

Regulus let out a sound close to a scoff and seemed to seethe with fury as he made his way up the stairs, his door made a creaking sound as if pushed by enormous force, pausing before lightly closing with click, as though he had stopped it before the slam came.

Realising that Remus was still in the room, you sighed before lifting your gaze up to meet his.

You open your mouth a couple times but no words seem to come out. You drop your gaze again.

Luckily for you, your name tumbles out of Remus's mouth before he asks a question.

“He…he doesn’t know?” 

His voice was filled with hesitation. You could see his hand lift up towards you in your peripherals. He hesitated. Of course he did.

“I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t.”

Ironic huh? Your husband returns after fourteen years and all you’ve done today is try to explain yourself.

It’s all too overwhelming. You need to get away.

Before Remus could respond to you, your feet seemed to lead you back to the stairs. 

You turn around once you hear your name again. He calls you that a lot…

“I could…talk to him, you know?”

His eyebrows are raised in what you can guess as hope, and his voice sounds scratchy.

Contemplating for a moment, you respond.

“Do what you please Lupin, I don’t care.”

A shake of your accompanies the words.

You tried to make yourself seem stern. But you aren’t.

And he knows that. He knows you better than you know yourself.

You feel a tug on your arm. Looking down at him from the stairs, a wave of nostalgia hits you. His hand feels warm on your arm. You can hear the wind blowing outside. 

It feels…the same.

You walk in the great hall and make your way towards your friends. not before sparing a glance and smile towards the marauders, mainly remus.

Remus's mouth quirks up at the corner as he gives you a lopsided grin, his crooked teeth showing through.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Sirius, his brows furrow and he lets out a noise somewhat similar to a scoff

"My sister moony? really?" he drawls, turning his eyes to his plate, attention still on Remus, who startles and looks back to deny his proclamations.

"what? I just gave her a smile." His confusion makes the other two marauders burst out in laughter. Their boisterous laugh echoes through the great hall, drawing your attention.

 With a glance shared with Remus, you let them be.

"I see how you look at her, it's obvious mate" Sirius grabs his attention again and begins to prepare to leave for his class.

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"you very well do" A bored expression adorns Sirius's face.

Remus furrows his brows before your retreating figure catches his attention.

Noticing his distraction, Sirius rolls his eyes and turns around to leave.

“Talk to her.” He mutters to Remus before he’s gone.

Much to Peter and James’s surprise Remus does indeed listen.

He follows you out of the Great hall, looks right and left before spotting you towards the stairs.

Taking long strides he makes his way over to you.

You hear your name once. It’s Remus.

His eyebrows are raised in what you can guess as hope.

You feel a tug on your arm. Your eyes meet his, that look right behind you at something.

Before you can form a word, he pulls you hard towards his chest.

A group of third years pass by, hitting your shoulder as they pass by, no doubt in a hurry to reach their first class.

Your face is hidden in Remus's chest long after you can no longer hear them.

As he opens his mouth to say something, a smile breaks out on your face, easing his nerves.

That was the best laugh you two had had all week.

Remus wordlessly pulls you into his chest.

Your arms automatically go to wrap around his middle. No matter how much you hate him right now, you can’t deny the comfort his warmth brings you.

You’ll worry later. That night you cry in his chest, for the first time in fourteen years.

Three knocks on Regulus’s door pulled him out of his trance, as he was busy Staring at the ceiling.

He glanced over at the door in anticipation.

“Can I come in?” Remus's voice echoes through the mostly empty room.

Most of regulus's belongings seemed to have not made their way into this house. Remus understands why.

With hesitation, Regulus nods His head once and Remus lets himself in.

“Can we talk…?”  Remus was unsure, that much was evident.

Regulus nodded once more and moved his gaze across the room. Avoiding his fathers eyes Like the plague.

Remus cleared his throat before sitting down on the bed.

His throat bobbed up and down, As did the mattress. It made a squeaking noise, Filling in the silence that enveloped the room.

“We need to talk…” Uncertainty lingered in his voice.

With silence as Regulus’s only response, He continued.

“I-” 

a sigh followed his pause 

“I- uh- when you were little…welp- Not born yet. Heck I had no clue you were going to be born. I-” 

Remus's throat felt dry, he was stammering, his words were jumbled. He had no idea what to say. 

He only just got to know the kid.

So he started with the obvious.

“I…am your father-”

That earned him a snort of laughter from Regulus.

“Yeah, no shit.”

At Least He was making progress…?

“But I made a mistake, I left your mother when we were both at our worst, I can never forgive myself for that. And I don't expect her to either.”

Remus paused again. His Brows furrowed and eyes squinted as if he was choosing His next words carefully.

Regulus's feet tapped on the floor, impatience, Remus recognised that trait, must've gotten it from his mother.

Taking this as a sign to go on, he continued.

"I love her, kid....she's my everything "....

"Then why'd you leave her?" 

Regulus spoke very little, but when he did, it was hard to miss.

"I didn't know she had you, my boy...if i'd known i wouldn't leave-" 

"no.”

Remus's words halted, his brows furrowed in obvious confusion.

No?

“ I asked why you left her... not me. Merlin! You say you love her but left her alone. Didn't You?"

Oh

"i was scared and foolish a-and young-"

Remus tried to explain himself, to justify himself.

With each word he spoke, Regulus's blood seemed to boil.

"Do you have any idea how much pain you've caused her!? Mum wanted to kill herself, professor. She didn't want to live."

There was an urgency in Regulus's voice, like Remus would disappear again the moment he stopped talking.

You'd remember that night like it was yesterday. The stars were gleaming, the moon was full. 

It made you want to give up. You were on the ledge when a small voice inside your head called out "stop, he needs you. regulus needs you" so you got down, and took a step back, your heart racing and thumping against your chest.

You remember, the bigger voice that screamed at you to let go "Godric! you coward. You coward. Do it. Just. Do. It." It said.

You backed off and fell to your knees, sobbing when the reality of it came crashing down. 

You were twenty eight. Regulus was six. Only six.

And he was standing behind the balcony door, scared, nervous and relieved at the same time. He didn't want you gone, but he didn't want you to suffer.

He was just a boy. And he was hurt. 

He was torn and you didn't know.

"I saw her, she wanted to give up. A part of me wanted her to give up, be free, I thought. Hell, I was just a kid. I didn't know anything"

Hot tears escaped Regulus's eyes, his hands going up to frantically wipe them away. When he failed, he just pressed his palms into them to try and stop the flood of oncoming tears.

Both shocked and ashamed by Regulus's words, Remus's first instinct was to cradle his son, comfort him, but Regulus Pushed his hands away and looked straight at him through red eyes.

"I hope you're better now...and I'll not hesitate to say this- she deserves better." 

A few tears gathered on Remus's lash line, he blinked them away.

He had gotten good at that huh?

His mouth opened yet no words came out.

“You should go…” 

Regulus said, at last, sensing Remus's speechlessness.

The bed creaked as he got up, taking slow and unsteady steps towards The door.

The doorknob felt cold in his hands, he thought.

"Hey, professor..." 

Remus looked back.

"take care of mum...she's been through a lot"

With a nod, Remus exited the room. Leaving Regulus to go back to staring at his ceiling.

As he enters the hallway, his eyes fall onto a vase.

A vase with a singular flower in it, no doubt enchanted to stay fresh.

It looked familiar....too familiar.

Sitting on a picnic blanket, at a time you're certain is past your curfew, is less than ideal on a cold winter night.

But laying here with remus makes it all, so, very worth it.

Your attention from the stars is taken away for a moment as you feel a tug on your fingers.

Remus takes your hand into his, intertwines your fingers and gently places it above his chest, the place where you'd think his heart is.

"You know... you're the queen of my heart"

You just about melt into a puddle at the way he says it.

“And my body...and my soul" he adds. 

You let out an airy chuckle before responding.

"You cheeky poet."

"Tortured poet." Remus attempts to correct you with faux irritation.

"Alright" 

This is accompanied by another snicker. 

"I'm serious!" Remus says, though he does mirror your smile.

You feign confusion as you reply.

“but you're Remus."

Remus just about whines at your pathetic joke with your brother's name as he leans back pushing one leg up and resting his free hand on it, before kissing the back of your intertwined fingers. 

You stare up at him as he watches the sun set. 

As you tighten your grip and lay your head on his shoulder, you think...

‘You too are the king of my heart, body, and soul.’

And that night you remember till today.

You picked that flower that night, he remembers.

And if you still have the flower, then he has hope.

He'll make it up to you, he thinks.

He knows he will.

Series taglist: @twilightlover2007 @idli-dosa @lovesanimals0000 @deathbyramennoodle-s @deadgirlsrunning @lovelyypythoness @corvinalitbitina @joeytribbiani18 @mayusaatma @csifandom @kissmeunicornbaobei @takem3tothelakes @loser-withwifi @roraxruw @empress-simps @callsignwidow @geeksareunique @0strawberrysorbet0 @deamus-liv General taglist: @desikudisworld @iamgayforyourmom1510

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #remus lupin series #brother! sirius black #black! sister! reader #remus lupin #marauders era fanfiction #remus angst #fanfiction #harry potter #king of my heart RL #twz

[shock]

This one is definitely my favorite so far in my collage solar system, so I wanted to post it. Hopefully I'll get some nice scans once all the pieces are done, but here's a spotlight on Neptune Side 1, "MEMORY".

The photos on the left are all pictures I took as a kid with film my gammaw got me before she died, and most of them are from the same day we took a walk together. The photos on the right all include her except for one. I can't remember HOW I managed to get ahold of the time they hired a stripper for her birthday, but I've always found that set of photos to be really evocative and I feel like I found the perfect use for them! 🤣

The text reads:

One fine day in 2006, a wild deer wandered into a Target store. When animals are traumatized, we make careful, logical calculations. Which is what the deer did.

After falling down the stairs, skidded around for a half hour, like when Odysseus opened a bag of captive winds, would surrender for a second, then dash from one event to the next. Until out of sheer frustration, I threw a bucket. But it made the deer race right through the window.

"F---ed up beyond all recognition."

If I had known what that maneuver would cost, I would probably have let the deer go.

A couple of days before she died, she took me to the ocean.

My log adds, I had some nice things to eat. I have never seen a being, human or animal, always so full of joy. Talking to her filled me with the power of the sun.

I wanted to hug her, but I didn't. I literally forgot to put my arms around her. We talked again that night on a ship-to-ship radio frequency. You weren't supposed to talk long on that because others might need it.

The next day, she died. I went into the woods, trying to clear my head. I could hear the deer breathing in the darkness. It was weird.

The day after she died, I called and cried. I don't like to yell or scream, but a bad storm brings something out of me. Not until I knew there's be no response did I realize how much pleasure I had taken in calling her. I bellowed up at the approaching storm: All right, you have the power of life and death! Love's no good! I know it! I had so many meetings with different people, I forgot! I'm sorry! So deafen me with your thunder! Go on, then! Scorch up my brains! I defy you! I'll defy you to my last breath!

Who was I defying? God? The deer? The storm? It didn't do any good to make noises of my own.

Sleeping helps. In dreams, I reach out my hand and grab the disease with my fist, drive that f---ed cancer back across an entire wavelength, refuse to contemplate the distant future, have a great talk with her held safely inside my arms.

I think It's worst than a nightmare. It's slow torture, it will drive you crazy, cunningly spooled and folded scenarios spin out in your mind.

Two years ago, I watched tapes of her that only reminded me of how I wanted to hear live people. It took me years to learn how to use them.

It is always interesting to see how situations change and people move from one to the other. Then you walk around a rock, and there it is: names and drawings, graffiti, all of one trade— MEMORIES carved in the rock:

Her life was a gift to me. She'd given me a greater one.

She sounded good.

I got the message. Follow the noise.

Retrace my route between the images of a continuous narrative. I went to the spot where she took her last breath. By then I could hear the deer running through the brush. I called again. This time, with a smile.

It worked. I made contact again.

Of course I knew this time she couldn't come, so my approach changed:

All right, REFLECTIONS can't support life.

That's okay. Keep moving.

GO AHEAD AND FREAK OUT.

Keeping busy helps, too— She lived every moment as though it were her last. It was wonderful.

I love her very much.

Do you want to know a secret?

I transformed into something grown for the pure happiness it brings me.

I feel really good now.

My attention most days is on the here and now.

It's the only real escape there is.

#my collages #collage art #collage poetry

[melled42]

What do the bishops think of Bell?

Ewen and Narider were the last to have any kids and they only had the one so by the time she was born, the rest of the bishops had kids and expecting grand kids. All except Shamura, who i headcannon as aro/ace so they don't have any partners or children. So growing up she was the last niece and really babied by all of the bishops. lots of pet names like "grub" and "tadpole". By this time the cult had grown enough most of the bishops were heading communes in their old haunts, except Shamura again, who stayed back so they could look after him, and came for visits and spoiled her.

this is spoiler-y but i i'm not sure i'll get enough time to do major Bell comics until i'm done the main plot (which is like in its last 3rd woo) so i'll put this under cut.

Bell is immortal, like her parents. The other bishops took the gold necklaces to extend their and their spouses lives. However, when Bell was just a child, Leshy was the first to decide he was ready to pass on. A while after that, it was Heket, and longer still, Kallamar. She watched them all come and visit her parents, who still resided over death, to discuss their own. So she grew up seeing all of them dying.

The last was Shamura, because they her parents were considering passing the red crown to her one day and they wanted to stay long enough to see her grow into an adult. Since they still lived in the cult with her, they were the closest, so it was difficult. they often told her that she was special for defying all of fates and their attempts to keep her from ever being born, and that they were so happy they failed and she was here. Shamura's was the first passing she stayed and witnessed herself.

After that she took on the red crown and her parents "retired". Narinder was still immortal but the lamb had to take on a necklace too. Eventually they too decided they had lived long enough. They had planned for Aym and Baal to assist them but Bell volunteered and refused to let anyone else see them off. So she saw her own parents off to the afterlife and made sure they went together like they wished.

She now reigns as the god of death with the understanding that life should be fleeting so that it has meaning and will probably, one day, choose another for the crown and pass on herself by choice

[hartwinorlose]

got inspired by @neyafromfrance95's soulmate posting

COOPER HOWARD - NINE

1 & 2 - Linda and Robert Howard 

Most people’s first threads are their parents. Cooper is no exception. He’s born with two tiny circles of red around his thumbs and an instinctual knowledge: they are there until death; they will remain even if he cuts them. He has eight more. It is far better to have these two than not. 

Like most children, he makes threats in the midst of his tantrums. “I’ll cut it off!” he screams at his mother when she won’t let him have his way. “I’ll cut your thread!”

Of course, he never does. 

Three decades later, in his father’s hospital room, he watches the brilliant crimson fade to a colorless gray. The last bit of red fades away right as the flatline sounds. 

Cooper is sick for a week straight afterwards, can’t so much as get out of bed. When he finally does haul himself back into the real world, the ache in his heart stays. He resents it — there was no love lost between him and his father, but every time he catches a glimpse of that gray thread, it makes him hurt all over again. In the end, it takes more than a year before his heart feels well and truly whole.

It’s the first thread he loses. It won’t be his last.  

3 - Mrs. Abernathy 

He’s only seven when he gives the third one away. He’d developed a lisp, and his parents had immediately put him into speech therapy. He’s grateful for it. The other children have been picking on him incessantly. 

Mrs. Abernathy never does. She works with him, tells him where to put his tongue to get his consonants just right. She’s exceedingly kind and excessively patient, and he wants to show her how much he appreciates what she’s done for him in the best way he can think of. 

On the last day of therapy, when his lisp is well and thoroughly gone – his peers in third grade will never even know he had it – he edges his way shyly to her desk. 

“Mrs. Abernathy,” he says, proud that he can say her title without it sounding like he’s speaking through a spoonful of peanut butter. 

She graces him with a smile. “Yes, Mr. Howard?” She always addresses him like that, like he’s her equal. It makes him feel distinctly grown-up. 

Puffing out his chest, he holds up his hand. “I want you to know that I gave you a thread.” He knows she can’t see it, and he knows she almost certainly won’t give him one back, but it’s the highest honor he’s capable of bestowing. 

“Oh, Cooper.” Mrs. Abernathy places a hand to her heart. “That’s very kind of you, sweetie, but I want you to be careful with who you give those to, okay? Here.” She holds up her own hands and counts out her fingers, then gives them a wiggle. “Ten. It seems like a big number, doesn’t it?” 

He nods solemnly. Double-digits. He’ll be a big kid when he hits double-digits, that’s what everyone keeps telling him. Ten seems a very long way away. 

Mrs. Abernathy places her hands on her knees and leans forward. “I’m going to tell you a secret. It isn’t very big at all. In fact, in a few years, you’ll probably wish you had a lot more than ten fingers for those threads. So you keep them for people who can give them back to you.” 

He gets a similar lecture from his parents when they find out what he’s done. Mrs. Abernathy must have called them because he comes home to find his father in a fine state. 

“Soft-hearted nonsense!” he blusters when Cooper confirms he has, indeed, bestowed Mrs. Abernathy with one of his threads. “This is what comes of going too easy on him. He gets these sort of fool-headed ideas.” This to his mother, who sits with an almost contemplative look on the sofa. 

“I don’t know,” she hums. “I think it’s sweet of him.” 

Robert’s face goes as red as a tomato. “Sweet! It’s permanent, Linda. The boy’s gone and permanently tied himself to a woman four times his age. What’s he going to get out of that?” He yanks loose the knot in his tie and rakes a hand through thinning hair. 

Cooper quails backward as he rounds on him. 

“You listen here, Coop. You do something this stupid again, I’ll cut the damn thread myself. You hear me?” Robert advances a step, goes so far as to make his fingers into scissors and snip the air. 

Tears well in Cooper’s eyes, and he clutches his hand to his chest. He doesn’t want to lose any of his threads. 

Linda jumps up and slaps Robert’s hand down. “Stop it, Bob! He’s going to think you’re serious.” Spinning, she crouches down in front of Cooper and pulls him into a hug. Runs a soothing hand over his hair and murmurs, “Don’t worry, dear, no one can cut it but you. You know that, don’t you?” 

Cooper nods, but his father’s threat stays with him for a long time. 

4 - Grant 

Cooper doesn’t even think about giving away another thread until he’s fourteen. Grant is his best friend, has been for the past six years – practically a lifetime. Grant probably knows him better than he knows himself. 

It feels monumental when they ditch their bikes at the edge of what they think is the woods – in reality, a two-acre patch slated for development that happens to have some dense shrubbery and trees – and hike to a group of rocks. The rocks are famous with the neighborhood kids for being infested with snakes, but they climb fearlessly to the top. 

Grant takes out his pocket-knife and scrapes it against the unyielding stone. It leaves marks behind, white on gray, and he carves out a clumsy “G.” 

“Here.” He hands the knife to Cooper. 

Dutifully, Cooper adds a “C” right next to it. “Now what?” 

“We gotta bleed.” Grant holds the knife over the pad of his index finger and digs the point of it in until a drop of blood wells beneath it. Once again, he hands Cooper the knife. 

His breath hisses through his teeth as the blade punctures his skin, but he lifts his finger to show Grant he’s done it. 

Grant presses their fingers together, their blood mixing and falling combined onto the initials they’d carved. “There,” he says, wiping his hand on his pants and leaving a rusty streak behind. “Now we’re blood brothers.” 

“Blood brothers,” Cooper repeats, wrapping his hand around his finger to stem the bleeding. When he opens his fist, he realizes a thread has wrapped itself around the base of his bloodied finger. His eyes follow it to where it terminates somewhere within Grant’s rib cage. He hadn’t even realized he’d given one away. 

5 - Janet 

Cooper is seventeen and a bit of a romantic. He’s been dating Janet since Grant moved away two years back, and he’s pretty sure it’s going to be forever. 

By the time he’s eighteen, he’s sure enough to run a thread between them. Never before has he wished so fervently that she could just see it herself because it is, frankly, a little embarrassing to admit. At first, he’s not sure how to say it. Then: genius strikes. 

He waits until prom night, when they sleep together for the first time. When Cooper sleeps with anyone at all for the first time. They lay in her bed afterward because her parents are out of town and they have all night. 

It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to pluck up the courage, but he eventually draws a line from his finger to her heart. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking slightly amused. 

Cooper shrugs a shoulder. “Loose thread. I fixed it.” 

She opens her mouth, starts to ask him what he means, but she seems to figure it out as her face flushes bright pink. “Oh, Cooper. I mean… um. Thank you. But I… I can’t…” 

“You don’t have to do it back,” he rushes to assure her. Fuck, this is worse than he thought. 

“No, no.” Janet cradles his face in her baby-pink-manicured hands. Her prom dress, the same shade, is crumpled on the floor. “It’s so nice of you. Seriously. You’re like the cutest thing ever. It’s just, my parents, if they found out…” 

“Right, no, yeah. It’s fine, Jan.” Cooper cannot get out of there fast enough. He makes some awful excuse about how his own parents will be home soon and he needs to get back before he’s missed. 

Janet watches him get dressed, stops him before he can get out the door. She takes his hand and dusts his knuckles with a kiss. “Someday,” she says, rubbing his thumb. “I promise. I’ll give you one of my mine.” 

Feeling slightly more reassured, he kisses her goodbye. 

They break up three months later. Cooper signs up for the Marines.

6 - Agnes 

“I require all my clients to give me one of their threads.” Agnes has her thin hands folded on her desk, her lipstick a professional shade of red. Not a hair is out of place on her head. Her suit has lines so sharp they look like they could cut him. In other words, she strikes Cooper as a woman who knows what she’s doing. 

She’s still talking. “It’s a cutthroat industry out here, Mr. Howard. I have to be sure you really want this, and that means commitment. So you tell me.” She steeples her fingers, stares at him expectantly. “What are you willing to give?” 

Agnes Powell is not the first agent Cooper has met with. She’s not the third or the fourth or even the fifth. All of them had found something in him lacking – just not meant for the screen is the phrase haunting his nightmares.  

If he doesn’t sign with someone soon, it’s back to readjustment. That hasn’t been going so well for him, being a civilian. War had been bigger than life; he needs something to fill this new space inside him.   

He studies his hands. Five threads left. He’s still young, and he wants a family. Not for the first time, he wishes he’d been a little more discerning over the years. 

Agnes blinks, tilts her head. “Hollywood is the best step you’ll ever take, Mr. Howard, and I’m eager to take it with you. I think you’ve got talent; I really do. It’s just one little thread, right?” 

Cooper rubs the empty space around his left pinkie. One thread not to go back to his job as a bagger at the Super Duper Mart. One thread to potentially leave the mundanity of normal life behind. He’s given them up for less.

He reaches across the desk to shake Agnes’ hand. “Just one little thread,” he agrees.

7 - Sebastian Leslie

In his right mind, Cooper would never hand Sebastian one of his four remaining threads. Three hours of steady drinking and mindless celebration have driven him from his right mind. Agnes had come through – she’s gotten him a role and not just any role. A starring role. 

It’s a Western, which is not a genre he would’ve picked, but Sebastian had clapped him on the shoulder when he first hears. 

“They’re big, Coop. Trust me on this. You’re going to be huge.” Then he’d offered to buy him a drink, and Cooper had said why the hell not. 

Filming starts in a week, and he’s determined to spend most of the time not-sober. Sobriety gives him too much time to think about how he could fuck this up. It’s a lot easier to shed that self-doubt when the room is hot and swirling and Sebastian is in his ear pitching all sorts of storylines. 

The hero. The villain. The heartthrob. 

Cooper snorts. “Neither of us has the face for that.” 

Sebastian makes an obnoxious buzzer sound. “Wrong! Women flock to this face.” He frames his with a flourish. “It’s not about the features, it’s about the confidence. They love that shit.” 

“I’ll leave you to them,” Cooper laughs. He downs the next shot, which has somehow ended up in his hand. 

Slinging his arm over his shoulder, Sebastian clinks his own glass against Cooper’s newly empty one. “You play this right, Coop, you’re going to rule this town. Just do me a favor and take me along with you, yeah?”

“Sure I will.” Agnes had been right about everything – the industry was cutthroat, and he hasn’t managed to make a lot of friends out here. Sebastian is pretty much it. As far as Cooper can tell, he owes it to him to pay back that generosity.

Tequila-addled and high on imagined success, Cooper holds up his hand. “I’ll do you one better than a favor. I’ll make you a promise.” 

Sebastian stares at him dully for a moment before his eyes gleam with unshed tears. “You bastard,” he sniffs. “You know I’m an emotional drunk.” Half-sobbing, he pats Cooper on the chest, right over the heart, as he sticks his own in place. 

When Cooper wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache, he squints at the new line of red encircling his finger. Bleary memories of exchanging threads swim to the surface, and he sighs. Well. Shit. Old habits, it seems, die hard.

8 - Barbara 

Barbara laughs when he tells her about Janet. Her teeth and earrings gleam in the soft glow of their candlelit dinner. She holds her wine glass with an elegance he can’t help but admire. 

“Eighteen?” she echoes. “Absurdly young for a lifetime, don’t you think?” 

Cooper shrugs. “Yeah, well. I was an optimist.” He tilts his head toward where her fingers clutch the glass stem. “How about you? I’m almost afraid to ask how many spaces you’ve got left.” 

She takes a measured sip before setting her glass down precisely where it had been when she picked it up. “Six,” she tells him. 

“Wow.” Assuming her relationship with her parents is decent, that means she’s only given two away by her late twenties. “Some people might call that cold-hearted.” 

Barb slices into her steak. “I prefer to think of myself as selective.” She arches an eyebrow, as though challenging him to break through all of those restrictions, to be one of those she selects. 

Somehow, miraculously, he must because when he gets down on one knee, she accepts the ring and the thread he offers. She even gives him one of her own. 

It’s a few years later, and they’re sitting on a ridiculously large couch in the ridiculously large house he can afford. Barb reclines against his chest; he’s reading through the latest script Agnes has sent his way with his elbow propped against the back of the couch. 

Barb breaks the silence. “You know what I’ve been thinking?” 

“Mmm?” he hums, right in the middle of a monologue and only half-paying attention. “What’ve you been thinking?” 

She lifts one hand and examines the back of it. “It might be nice to have a new thread.” 

That gets his attention. “Oh yeah?” It takes a minute for understanding to dawn – then she turns on him with such a pair of bedroom eyes that it clicks into place. “Oh.” 

She runs her fingers over the back of his hand. “If you’ve got room, that is.” 

“Baby, I’ve got room for as many as you want,” Cooper says, already scooping her into his arms. “As long as it’s not more than two.” 

He carries her, laughing, to bed. 

A few more years, and Cooper is not so blinded by the lights of Hollywood anymore. Barb, however, seems to be capable of shielding her own eyes from whatever shit is going on at Vault-Tec. Things get more and more sour between them. The fault line in his heart grows bigger and bigger. 

Until it cracks open completely. 

He drives home in a haze, replaying the staticked voice of his wife as she proposed the end of the world. When he walks into the house, he stands for a minute in the living room, not moving, not thinking, just letting himself breathe in and out while he still can. This is going to hurt like a motherfucker. 

He doesn’t let himself do it immediately. He’s made enough rash decisions – this one deserves time. Two days later, he pulls the kitchen shears out of the knife block. 

Cooper is not entirely certain how one is supposed to do this. Eventually, he decides on clutching the thread between his teeth and stretching his arm as far out as it can get. Places the mouth of the scissors to the edge of the thread. Squeezes his eyes shut. And cuts. 

There’s so much pain, it’s like his other senses give up. His vision goes dark, and he collapses to the ground, the scissors clattering off somewhere. All he can hear is the rush of blood through his ears. For a minute, his heart beats so off-kilter, he worries he’s gone into cardiac arrest. But slowly, surely, it gets back to normal, and his eyesight comes back – blurred and imperfect, but good enough to let him stumble into his bedroom and collapse onto the mattress. Good enough for him to see the string that once shone scarlet is now a bitter, ugly black. 

9 - Janey 

Nobody’s perfect is an age-old adage that Cooper has heard dozens, if not hundreds, of times throughout his life from all sorts of people. Well, those people haven’t met his kid. The connection is instant. The very second she lands in his arms, he feels the ninth thread encircle his finger. 

He counts her fingers and toes, a perfect ten of each. He watches her flawless nose crinkle as she winds up for another round of wailing. 

“Good set of lungs on that one,” a nurse remarks as she bustles around him. 

Not good, Cooper would tell her if he could pay attention to anything other than Janey. Perfect. 

She is the one thread he never, not for one minute, regrets. 

THE GHOUL - ONE

10 - Lucy MacLean

The weeks after the bombs are hell. Cooper can’t tell which he’s sicker from: the radiation or the rapidly graying threads. Mrs. Abernathy goes first, then Janet, then Sebastian. He can’t help but imagine how they all died. The bomb for Mrs. Abernathy. Some desperate fucker guts Janet behind the shell of a grocery store. Sebastian doesn’t make it through the radiation poisoning.  

Grant and his mom are next. He does everything in his power not to think of what might have ended them. 

Agnes makes it a while. He’s become something else by the time her red runs out, something with rough skin and a body running on chemicals. Her survival makes sense to him – she’d always been a remarkably capable woman. 

Every day, he dreads the moment he opens his eyes. There is only one line of red left to him, and if it goes out, he’ll put a bullet in his head. 

The years go on, but he doesn’t change with them. The knowledge terrifies him – how long will he be around? He thought he’d be dead by eighty, but it comes and goes with no effect. He didn’t budget for this much existence. No matter how long he survives, the fact remains: he can make only one more connection. 

So he does a pretty damn good job at not making any. Can’t risk another Grant. Wouldn’t survive another Barb. Much easier to keep to himself and forget he ever even had the option.

Unfortunately, there’s a girl. He fully intends on killing her, but she talks like he hasn’t heard anyone talk for centuries, all sickly corporate. The stain of Vault-Tec is all over her. She’s a good opportunity, so he takes it, and he tries to ignore the little voice in the back of his head whispering that maybe he never has to really let her go. 

He ties her to him with everything he can think of that isn’t one of those damn threads. A cable, a lasso – hell, he even sews part of her onto him. That voice still won’t shut the fuck up. 

The worst part? He can’t even figure out the reason. What is it about her that makes him want to give her the last, shriveled part of him? She gave me the chems, he tells himself, but he knows that’s a lie. He should have shot her dead the second she tried to speak to him, and he hadn’t. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. 

It’s no clearer to him when he sends a bullet ripping through Henry’s cheek. For himself, yes, but also for Lucy. He knows all too well what that kind of betrayal feels like. Wouldn’t be surprised if she cuts that particular thread as soon as she gets the chance. 

He holds out for as long as he can, but he’s never been a strong man. The second she shoots her mother instead of him, he feels the very last of his threads stretch between them. Permanent and maybe a mistake, but he’s hers now. 

He half-turns. Sure enough, a bridge of crimson stretches all the way to her heart. He asks if she’s coming with him. Relief fills him when she does. 

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