#gahhhh so excited for tonight

[milo-is-rambling]

If I’m ever wearing a skirt just know that in my true form I’m wearing my favorite pants

[bonesandthebees]

Good morning bee!! Update on the whole Snow situation IM SICK I GOT SICK IDK HOW BUT MY THROAT JUST STARTED TO RANDOMLY SWELL UP YESTERDAT AND I COULDNT SLEEP THIS SUCKSSS

On the plus side Im staying home from work so I have extra time to read ur fic now + finish my paper that's due tonight 😭😭😭

Also just realised I think I forgot to send in an ask for ch3?? Might just combine it with ch4 whoops

Anyways hope ur doing well and enjoyed the wine stream last night :D

I am so late to answering asks these days whoops

oh no I'm sorry you're sick!! make sure to drink tea and I hope you feel better soon :( but yay for fic reading lol I hope you enjoyed ch 4

very excited for whenever you're able to chuck your thoughts in for ch 3 and 4 :))

I'm doing well!! I've been brainrotting a qsmp fic idea all day that I already know is too long for me to write but gahhhh I want to. also yes I enjoyed the wine stream VERY much I love those lads sm

[dagnul]

im playing in my friend's band for a show tonight at an artists collective down the street from my house and im getting so damn excited!! there'll be character actors, costumes, live music, people gettin groovy on psychedelics, a petting zoo with goats, bunnies, it's just gonna be such a rad time. i get to play music with people i really love and the last couple practices have sounded really great i just know we'll have so much fun up on stage gahhhh

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i have been so excited about this fic for ages and oh my god loren, it’s even more heartbreaking than i imagined - and we haven’t even gotten to part ii when the real angst starts! i love that we get to see everyone’s pov, it just further contributes to the foreboding nature and suspense of the whole night? and it’s so sad because they all love each other so so much, but they haven’t been good at showing and saying it lately, that it’s lead to resentment almost? and i love that we get to see bradley and the reader and quincy at this more mature part of their life, since it’s something i don’t see a lot in bradley fic! anyway, i have more to say below, but god!!! i’m on pins and needles over part ii 🫣💕

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” - this is still one of my favorite lines! like it’s so jake! “she’s beyond unwell” gahhhh

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. - AHHHHHHHHH THIS THIS THIS

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. - i feel like with parents, when you’re having the baby etc you don’t always think about the hard parts like reprimanding them, but i think that’s doubly so for godparents/uncles in this case? jake’s never had to do this

And he’s made peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. - how dare you make me feel sympathy for the blond man

…before you have to make room for your second daughter - 🥺🥺🥺🥺

You think he looks just like your daughter even though you can’t see the fullness of his face. - stop this right now!!! this is so sweet, but also a little sad?

your first baby will always be the chunky eleven-month-old with blotchy pink cheeks and abundant sass you met on Halloween sixteen years ago - that adorable little cranberry 🥺

What was once excited chatter at the dinner table about school and friends and club soccer and yearbook committee soon became absent, and the sound of silence from a missing spot at the dining table with you and Bradley had become the norm. - gosh i love this, it’s so sad

You know that you’re not Quincy’s mother in any sense of the word, but you’re her mom and have been for as long as she can remember. - this is such a good comparison/word play, i love it!!

He had always worried himself sick after parent-teacher conferences because all of her teachers would comment on how mature his daughter was, but how that maturity often caused her to isolate herself. - god he is so hard on himself as a parent

But this Bradley, the one who is a dad and a husband and a friend and a son, gives a damn and he gives such a big one that he feels nauseous. - oh bubs 🥺 sweet boy. i like the comparison to the old bradley with this

She had never been drunk before in her life and the copious amounts of vomit that had spewed out of her mouth tonight discouraged her from trying to speak. - see now this is interesting to me! that with all her truancy and misbehaving and whatnot, this thursday night is the first time she gets drunk? also i wanna know what she does while playing truant

The silence between the three of them is unforgiving and she can’t remember a time where she had felt so. . .embarassed. - yes yes yes! there’s something so embarrassing about being drunk/caught being drunk by sober people, whether you’re 18 or 28?!

“Serious shit or not, that’s still your baby. She needs you more than you think, you know.” - oh sweet girl! she needs her dad and she thinks she doesn’t have him anymore, but he’s still right there

The house is finally quiet and everything as is it should be. Bradley just doesn’t like the fact that this kind of peace is tainted with the fact that Quincy is growing up and that there is nothing he can do to stop it. - LOVE how you ended it this way! though i’m properly scared for quincy come friday morning

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score - part i.

"If Bradley squints his eyes, he can still make out the little five-year-old that he once knew who thought that he put the stars in the sky and cried when she found out that Jake’s real name wasn’t Hangman." or Quincy Bradshaw is growing up and no one knows what to do about it; especially Bradley.

a/n: in light of father's day, enjoy part one to bradley's precocious daughter making a re-appearance and jake seresin being reasonable for once. part two will be posted soon! the angst will be resolved, don't you worry!

It happens in between the end credits and the black fade-out screen. 

The piercing sound of the phone ringing snaps you and your husband out of your near comatose states on the couch, seemingly entranced by Molly Ringwald’s whining (which only she can get away with because she’s fucking Molly Ringwald, of course) for the entirety of Sixteen Candles. 

“Holy shit,” Bradley swallows, leaning up to sit entirely straight. His movements jostle you, causing you to wince at your cheek unsticking from its glued spot on his right pec. 

You smack your lips and sigh, trying to wake yourself up. The obnoxiously mechanical sound the phone makes causes your ears a subtle pain, and you silently curse your husband for refusing to remove the landline phone that sits glued to your kitchen wall. 

“It serves a purpose,” he had reasoned. “Don’t kill my dream of having a rotary phone.” 

And the conversation of uninstalling a 1970s landline phone from your new house was lost in the abyss of cardboard boxes and cheerios on the floor from your then beyond spunky and energetic three-year-old daughter. 

So while it sticks out like an eyesore amongst your “lived-in” and perfectly curated home, you often forget it’s there... except on occasions like this when the sporadic ringing shakes your eardrums and tightens the ever-present rubberband around your temples in the worst way possible. 

Bradley sits with his elbows on his knees, almost trying to muster up the strength to deal with the nuisance of the ringing phone. He sits for a second and sighs before hearing your body shift. 

You smush your face into a pillow; the constant ringing making you want to tear your hair out by the second. 

“Bradley!” you whine. He pats the part of your calf uncovered by your shared throw blanket with an unspoken tenderness. 

“Sorry,” he timidly apologizes. 

He stands up; his left knee making an impressive “crack” before swiping his phone off the coffee table on his way to the kitchen. 

You turn the TV off and lie in the complete darkness of your living room. The illumination of the moonlight through the glass windowed door in your kitchen shines its way to the floor in front of your couch. You have half the mind to yell to your husband to close the blinds that line the backdoor before your voice catches in your throat. 

No one ever calls the landline. Very few people even have the phone number for the landline outside of Maverick and a few close family friends. Besides, anyone who needed to reach you had your cell phone numbers anyway. 

So who the actual fuck is calling your landline at 11 PM on a Thursday? 

You hear Bradley yank the phone from its place on the wall and exhale with a huff. After sixteen years of being together, you know that huff is his tell of being annoyed. 

“Hello?” he gruffly answers. His irritation makes the question sound more like a monotonous statement. 

“Bradshaw –” 

Jake Seresin is on the other end of the line. You can recognize his voice from the other room with his cadence even though you’re not on the phone with him. Having “mom ears” does that to a person, you suppose. 

“Why the fuck are you calling my house at 11 PM?” Bradley snaps. 

You’re wondering the same thing, but you’ll have to talk to him about being so rude and huffy. Jake may actually need something, after all. 

“Well, you weren’t answering your fucking cell and neither was your wife so I had to do something.” 

Bradley rolls his eyes and looks back into the darkened living room. He’s been more on edge about you lately. 

“You can’t miss me that fucking much to be spamming my phone with calls,” he sighs and leans his back up against the wall. He notices the open blinds on the back door and walks to close them before he’s yanked back by the phone cord. 

“Don’t cream your pants. I don’t like you that much.” 

Bradley lets out a soft snort in amusement before he remembers that he’s supposed to be annoyed. He opens his mouth to ask Jake what exactly it is that’s so damn important and can’t wait until tomorrow morning when he’s beaten to it. 

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” 

The statement sends Bradley into panic mode instantly. His voice catches in his throat and he can’t recall a moment he’s had where he’s felt like he’s had to force the breath out of himself like this. 

He lets out something between a huff, a cough, and a wheeze before remembering he can’t make a huge show of himself right now because it’ll also throw you into panic mode. 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s not well? Jake, where the fuck are you?” he whispers into the phone, trying to cover his mouth as much as possible so you can’t even read his lips if you tried. “Is she okay? What’s –” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Bradley is panicking. Even Bradley’s beyond intoxicated and passed out seventeen-year-old daughter sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck could piece together that her father is nothing but a raging ball of anxiety at the moment, and Jake is positive that his friend is growing another patch of gray hair as the seconds pass. 

“Oh. . .fuck, I guess I should’ve phrased that better,” Jake admits. His truck comes to a halt at a spotlight and he glances over at his goddaughter. “She’s fine. She’s drunk as shit right now, but I’m on the way to drop her at yours.”

Bradley can feel the obnoxious orange ball of anxiety inside of him shift to a tumultuous rage-induced scarlett. His hand tightens around the phone cord and he has to stop himself before he yanks it out of the wall. He’s gotten angry like this before, but it never was angled toward his daughter. 

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. 

But she knows the rules (and she chose to break them) and she knows what was told to her (and she snuck out anyway) and she knows that it’s dangerous to be that drunk (but yet she’s passed out in Jake’s truck). 

And if that isn’t both nerve-wracking and frustrating, Bradley doesn’t know what is. 

“Put her on the phone,” he speaks lowly. 

Jake gulps, knowing that he’s in one of those moods. Bradley doesn’t express anger as often as he expresses annoyance, but an angry Bradley is never someone he wants to be around. And from the way that Quincy made it sound when she called him to come get her from some random party in the middle of nowhere thirty-five minutes away from her house at 11 PM on a school night, he knows her ass is being had tomorrow morning by both you and Bradley. 

There’s absolutely no way his goddaughter is coming out of this unscathed. 

“Dude, she’s obliterated right now and I think you talking to her is just gonna make it worse.” 

“And I don’t give a fuck. I said, put her on the fucking phone now.” 

Jake shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Quincy begins to stir next to him in her seat. He’s always been the person she’s called whenever she was in trouble. He always got the first hug whenever she was brought around. He’s always been her source of comfort outside of her parents and he’s never minded it because being around her is easy. 

It was easy to carry her around whenever she asked when she was little. It was easy to give in and let her sit in the cockpit of his grounded aircraft with him and let her play with the buttons when her dad and Papa Mav refused. It was easy to pick her up from school at midday and take her to lunch. It was easy to bring her back gifts from wherever he was deployed and even easier picking them out because she’s a sucker for meaningless trinkets. 

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. 

Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone. 

“No,” he speaks and he can hear Bradley let out a small gasp at the denial of his request, “She fucked up bad, Bradley. I’m sure she knows and you can have it out with her tomorrow morning, but right now, she’s not in any place to be screamed at and made to feel worse. You’re her dad and m’not tryin’ to take that away from you –” 

Bradley scoffs, “What exactly do you fuckin’ know about raising kids, Jake? Huh?” 

Jake grimaces and decides to take the brute of Bradley’s anger. Better him than Quincy, he figures. Besides, he knows Bradley doesn’t mean any of it. . . At least he hopes he doesn’t. 

“You obviously can’t be a dad because you just wanna have fun and dick around all the fucking time. Buying them fuckin’ candy and letting them off scott-free doesn’t do shit. You don’t have what it takes to raise a fucking person.” 

Jake doesn’t know why, but part of him gets that prickly feeling in his chest. Usually, every insult rolls off his shoulders into oblivion and he gets off on making people angry and being able to put on the facade that he really couldn’t give a damn if he tried.

But this one hurts because he knows that Bradley is right in some regard. 

He’s a runner and he lets people down. He’s nearing fifty (and God, he never thought he ever would) and has never even bothered to settle down. And he’s made peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. 

To hear one of your closest friends admit that to you openly, to know that someone outside of you sees it too, makes his heart stop momentarily and forces him to feel the ache of the words meant to stab him in the chest. 

“I understand,” he swallows. He knows arguing with Bradley isn’t the right thing to do at the moment and never will be. “I’m still not putting her on the phone. We will be at your house shortly.” 

The line goes dead and Bradley is overcome with a wave of anger that drowns him like a tsunami. He knows what he said was shitty and that he has no right to do that to someone who he considers a close friend, but he just can’t help himself. 

He knows no allies when it comes to his daughter. 

The sound of the plastic phone slamming into its rightful place on the wall alarms you and part of your heart hurts for Jake. 

Jake has no concept of boundaries and has no limit to the absurdities that he often commits, but Jake also has the biggest heart that gets overshadowed by his equally big ego. You know the words uttered to him by your husband have knocked him down in ways Bradley isn’t the slightest bit aware of, and you start to silently cry for him because you know he won’t do it for himself. 

You force yourself up from your deepened spot on the couch and waddle your way to Bradley in the kitchen. The tears streaming down your face only fuel your need to make it right and to stand up for Jake and his quietly hurt feelings. 

You don’t know the full of what happened, but you heard enough to know that no one deserves to be spoken to that way. Bradley is upset (and he seemingly always has this cloud of gloom hanging over his head), but that gives him no right to be so cruel. 

The mama bear feelings are only amplified by the thirty-nine-week bump on your frontside making you tilt forward more than you usually do. Jake is a big boy and you know he can handle himself and that this situation has nothing to do with you, per se, but the lack of kindness surrounding you currently is stuffy, and you’d do anything to break the barrier to actually breathe. 

You try and stifle your cries and wipe your starry eyes before you approach your husband; silently cursing how cold your feet are and longing for the day when you can put your socks back on yourself independently. 

He stands with his hands against the wall and his head drooped between them. It’s a look of defeat; a showcase of hopelessness and frustration mixed into a burly mess of indigo and violets from the moonlight and dark sky peeping into your kitchen windows. Despite the darkness surrounding him, you can see the pink flush on the back of Bradley’s ears that has traveled to the tops of his shoulder blades. 

The anger is rampant and on the verge of explosion. Seeing your sweet Bradley like this is a sight rarer than a double rainbow. Part of you knows you shouldn’t poke the bear, but Bradley knows he shouldn’t speak to people like that. Compromising your morals is something you’ve never let yourself do and being bone tired and thirty-nine weeks pregnant is not going to change that. 

Something’s gotta give, and you decide that it’s going to be you. 

His head pops up the second he senses your presence. He knows that something is off with you after your lack of announcement. His home and heart had been preoccupied by two of the most chatty (and rather heavy-footed) women for the past sixteen and a half years. Silence is not welcomed in abundance in the Bradshaw household.

As if he didn’t have to suck in his sharp breath of frustration seconds prior, he turns to you and opens his arms. The darkness hides your tears and aggravation, but he knows that it stands next to you as an unwelcome visitor. 

Part of you wants to indulge, but an overwhelming portion of you houses irritation that won’t let you bite. 

This night was supposed to be one of peace and tranquility. You’re coming up on week three of rest allocated by your maternity leave and you finally feel like the walls in your house aren’t closing in on you. Bradley’s light load of scheduled hops and paperwork has helped with giving you company earlier in the afternoons before you have to make room for your second daughter. The way that she’s sitting on your bladder and constantly kicking your ribs in the middle of the night throws the hope that she’ll be calm and sweet out of the window and opens the door to the reality that she’ll be a carbon copy of her older sister. 

“What’s wrong?” you grumble, sending Bradley a scowl. You ignore his open arms and head to the fridge. You slam the carton of orange juice down on the counter and swing open the cabinet door to grab yourself a glass. 

Bradley furrows his eyebrows in confusion and lowers his arms in defeat. His feet drag him closer to you subconsciously. The thought that you moved away from him because you wanted space doesn’t cross his mind. 

“Nothing,” he leans his hip against the countertop, eyes scanning the thin stream of juice being poured into the glass. His nose wrinkles as you flash your eyebrows at him. That was always his tell of hiding something. 

He knows you can clock it. He just really doesn’t want to argue right now. 

You take a gulp from your glass while rolling your eyes. “Don’t lie to me. I know it was Jake.” 

“Doesn’t mean something is wrong.” His shoulders slump before he closes the refrigerator door. You had been extra forgetful in this stage of your pregnancy. 

Your lips mouth a reflexive, “Thank you” before you huff. Being lied to was something you never appreciated; especially when you know how bad Bradley is at doing it. Besides, you know that he knows you have heard quite a bit. The pointlessness of his actions starts a kindling of rage in your belly. 

“Well, that’s funny because you’re telling Jake he doesn’t know how to be a parent over the phone?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

His spine straightens and his cheeks spill a baby pink hue that starts to spread to the tips of his ears. You think he looks just like your daughter even though you can’t see the fullness of his face. Your eyes start to twinkle before you remember that you’re pissed at him. The serious face holds a standstill. 

“Don’t play dumb. Do I need to say the exact words for it to ring a bell? ‘You don’t have what it takes to raise a fuckin’ person.’ Seriously, Bradley? What the fuck is your problem?” 

He winces at the agitation in your voice. Hearing it being said by someone other than him makes him realize how fucked up he was to say it; let alone even think about saying it to someone as dear to him and your family as Jake. Your hands heavily place the glass in the metal bottom of the kitchen sink and your heavy footsteps storm past him back to the living room. 

Bradley reaches out to grab your wrist and spins you to look at him. His hands envelop yours and place them flat on his chest. He sighs before dropping his head as if he was a puppy that had just gotten scolded. 

“You’re right,” his eyes scan your face but refuse to peer into your own, “I have no right to talk to people like that.” 

You let him hold you as your annoyance shifts to a denotation of shocked nerves that leave your heart sprinting like crazy in your chest for air. You’ve always been somewhat easy to work up, but your nerves have been oversensitive as of late. 

Penny and your mother call it your mother’s intuition maturing, but you like to call it a nuisance. Although the first baby you’ll be giving birth to will make her way earthside in a few short weeks, your first baby will always be the chunky eleven-month-old with blotchy pink cheeks and abundant sass you met on Halloween sixteen years ago. 

Bradley’s steady hand rubbing soothing circles on your back does little to help you differentiate the present and the imaginary. You aren’t sure how much time has passed or if his soft caresses continue on your spine, but you’re damn sure of what your gut is telling you. 

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. 

“Is she okay?” you ask him. 

The words uttered make the world stop turning for the millisecond it took you to speak. 

You know deep in your heart that she’s not okay; that she hasn’t been for a while. Your bright and bubbly baby turned angsty and moody Senior in high school had happened overnight, it seems. What was once excited chatter at the dinner table about school and friends and club soccer and yearbook committee soon became absent, and the sound of silence from a missing spot at the dining table with you and Bradley had become the norm. 

It became extremely noticeable in the last few weeks of her Senior year; calls of truancy being made to your home phone and numerous talks about possible grounding if she didn’t get her act together becoming more and more frequent. 

Her attendance sucks but her grades remain stellar, so the idea of punishing her falls flat on its face whenever it gets brought up. You both have always known how intelligent your daughter is. You just wish she didn’t know it so well to know that you and her father are bluffing. 

And to be totally truthful, preparing for a new and unexpected baby hadn’t been part of the plan. You know that you’re not Quincy’s mother in any sense of the word, but you’re her mom and have been for as long as she can remember. Looking for your face in the school pick-up line and at soccer games and honor roll assemblies had always been her normal, and the fact that she had to share that with something embryonic (as she would call it) that hadn’t even graced real outside world oxygen (again, Quincy vernacular) was not something on her bingo card for her Senior year of high school. 

Your absences from these things, the things that are important to her but she’s far too stubborn to admit how much they actually mean out loud, were felt this year. She was raised understanding and kind but has inherited the sensitivity of her father’s heart. You know how much this entire pregnancy has deeply hurt her, and the guilt swallows you whole. 

The abyss of her unverbalized pain looms like a fog in every corner of your mind. Guilt has a funny way of turning all emotions into its twin. 

“I mean, yes? But she’s in for it once she steps foot in this house,” he grumbles. The meteoric thumping of his heart in his chest soothes you, but you know that the adrenaline pumping through his veins to move the muscle at lightning speed is sourced in anger. 

“So she called Jake?” 

Bradley scoffs. Your face is buried in his chest, but you know his huff of annoyance was accompanied by an eye roll. 

“Tried to use him as her ‘get out of jail free’ card. Knows that shit doesn’t work so I don’t even know why she did that.” 

You stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him. “I’m sorry I was so mean earlier. Didn’t mean it,” you whisper and he grins. Apologies have never been your strong suit. He would argue that you’re more stubborn than your daughter and Maverick in that regard.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick. Know you don’t like when I get like that.” 

There’s no need for acceptance. You have him wholeheartedly the same way he has you. Verbally accepting each other’s apologies has long been a thing of the past; especially when you feel like you share each other in ways that no one else on Earth would be able to understand; two halves of a whole – husband and wife. 

Your hand lightly taps his chest before you scoot past him to return back to the living room. From the digital numbers of the oven light in the kitchen, you know that it’s nearing midnight. You and Bradley had never been “good sleepers” (and now that you’re thinking about it, neither is Quincy), but you figure that you should get as much sleep as you’re still allowed. God knows that the new baby will be all Bradshaw and will probably be the worst sleeper too. 

Bradley hears your heavy footsteps trudge up to the bedroom and the soft suction of the door frame signifying that you’re about to lay down for the night. He wants nothing more than to join you and revel in the peace; remind himself to breathe and of simpler times when it was just you and him, but it had never just been you and him because it was always you and him and Quincy. 

The ache in his stomach returns at the thought. He has to put himself back in the mindset to put his foot down and let his daughter know that what she had done was incredibly unacceptable. 

It’s not like he’s mad at her for choosing to act her age for once. 

He had always worried himself sick after parent-teacher conferences because all of her teachers would comment on how mature his daughter was, but how that maturity often caused her to isolate herself. She had always been bright but at the expense of never wanting to play imaginary games with her classmates because she didn’t see the point in “pretending.” He had always thought that it was his fault; that exposing your baby to the History Channel and retired veteran chatter at the bar during the day made her not like other kids. 

And it’s not like he wanted her to be a certain way or that he was scared of her being “weird” or that she wasn’t living up the the expectation of what he thought having a kid would be like. 

Bradley had just wanted her to be kind and to feel loved, and he knows from experience that it’s hard living life when you don’t feel like the former nor do you ever feel the support from the latter. He knows a life of isolation and a sharp tongue that spears a bleeding heart. The last thing he ever wanted was for his daughter to know the same. 

Nevertheless, he’s still angry. Angry? Enraged? Pissed? 

Disappointed. 

Bradley had seen the signs as much as you have of your daughter’s downward spiral through the duration of the school year. He ignored the phone calls of truancy and let them go to voicemail and held his breath and his tongue when she answered a question he asked her a little too harshly. He ignored the attitude and the slamming of doors and the glow of her bedside lamp being on well past 2 AM most nights. 

Bradley ignored all of it because confronting it and her made it real, and facing the reality that she’s growing up and will no longer need him is something that he will never be prepared to do. 

He takes deep breaths and grabs his water bottle off the counter, unscrewing the top and taking colossal sips. His therapist had given him a printed list of techniques years ago to help him manage his anxiety. If he can’t control the speed of Jake’s truck driving down the interstate to his house, he can control the pace of the icy chugs sliding down his throat. 

Bradley wipes his mouth with the back of his arm and places the metal water bottle down on the counter. He paces back and forth before he realizes that pacing always makes him more anxious. His feet carry him back to the living room where he sits on the edge of the couch and balances his elbows on the tops of his thighs. 

All that can be heard is the subtle tick of the large wall clock hanging above the mantle and the soft buzz of cicadas in the backyard. The silence is cut in half by blinding headlights beaming their way through the curtains that line the front window and the roar of an engine. 

He doesn’t jump up to unlock the door like he usually would. His thoughts are still maniacally bouncing around his skull like a ten-cent bouncy ball. Besides, he doesn’t even know if he dares to face Jake after he had spoken so horribly to him such a short time ago. 

The old Bradley, the one who was still hurting and lonely with no wife or kids or family, wouldn’t have given a damn. Fuck Jake and fuck everyone else. 

But this Bradley, the one who is a dad and a husband and a friend and a son, gives a damn and he gives such a big one that he feels nauseous. 

The headlights flick off and the engine is killed. The silence that resumes is so instantaneous that he can almost fool himself into believing that everything is normal. That his daughter is upstairs fast asleep in her room and that her godfather is fifteen minutes away at his own house. He prays Jake won’t knock on the door and disturb it again. Jake never knocked on the door anyway, so he might luck out, he figures. 

But Bradley underestimates how nervous Jake is about this whole thing and soon enough, the sound of his friend’s knuckles rapping on the dark green wood that is the entity of his front door. 

He holds his breath as he opens it. 

He sees Jake, twenty years older than when they finally put their past behind them and became friends, and then he sees his daughter, meek and saddened and slightly drunk. 

If Bradley squints his eyes, he can still make out the little five-year-old that he once knew who thought that he put the stars in the sky and cried when she found out that Jake’s real name wasn’t Hangman. 

The Leemoore sweatshirt she has on is three sizes too big and does little to make her look like a high school partygoer, so he knows she has a riskier top beneath it. There’s no doubt Jake probably made a pit stop at his house to give it to her before bringing her home. 

Jake knows that Bradley hates secrets, so her sneaking out and also having a second secret wardrobe stashed beneath the floorboards under her bed would not make for a welcome guest upon her coming home after getting busted. The sweatshirt at least bought her a little time. 

“Hey,” Jake speaks, finally slicing the tension with a greeting. His left arm is looped through his goddaughter’s and she leans on him heavily to prevent herself from falling. 

“Hey,” Bradley says back. His face is stern. Jake knows he means business. 

“I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to see me next.” Even though Jake is kind of pissed and anxious, there still remains a glimmer of humor within him. The complaint of many ex-girlfriends had always been how he never took anything seriously (and his serious lack of commitment too, but that’s an issue for another time), and he knows that it’s a blessing and a curse.

“Yeah, no kidding.” 

Bradley grabs his daughter’s free arm and helps Jake maneuver her inside over the steep ledge of the front door and to the asylum of the living room couch. 

Quincy’s eyes are wide open and her brain is moving in slow motion; scanning her surroundings but not being able to focus on one thing before her eyes are caught by the presence of another. She had never been drunk before in her life and the copious amounts of vomit that had spewed out of her mouth tonight discouraged her from trying to speak. Any thought of opening her mouth made the muscle memory of puking prevail. 

The rational part of her brain knows that her father wants to wring her neck, but she silently prides herself on calling Jake and kind of doing the right thing (even though she knows the right thing was not sneaking out and getting fucked up on a Thursday, to begin with). Her dad will forgive her and spending time with Jake was always fun. She just vows to make sure that she’ll never puke in front of him again because he turned green at the sight of her hunched over on the side of the road. 

Quincy lands on the couch with an incredible lack of grace. She bounces and almost slips off again, but sticks her foot out to help support her. Her vision is blurred before she focuses on the sight of her dad with the deepest frown on his face and his hands on his hips. Her eyes follow a horizontal line next to him and see Jake worrying his lip in between his teeth. A hiccup falls out of her mouth and she rushes to close it before her body can register a solution to the nausea plaguing her currently. 

The silence between the three of them is unforgiving and she can’t remember a time where she had felt so. . .embarassed. 

Here she is, about to get the scolding of her life in front of one of the adults she admires the most. All she had ever wanted was to be seen as a grown-up and it’s clear to her now that the men in front of her think anything but that. 

“You got anything to say?” Bradley huffs. His glare sharpens the more he takes in his daughter’s appearance. 

The silence he’s met with kindles a fire in his belly that shifts the anxiety he feels to the beginning of an obnoxious anger. 

Quincy can’t answer verbally because she knows she’ll throw up. She can’t shake her head to answer him either. The room is spinning and the spiraling shadow cast by her vision will undoubtedly make her throw up too. She can’t even feel her lips and anything she has to say will not be an answer worthy of her dad’s appreciation. She fucked up big time and now she has to reap what she’s sown. 

Her dad scoffs. The room inflates with tension from all three of the living room’s occupants. Quincy closes her eyes. Jake holds his breath. Bradley bawls his hand into a fist. 

Here it comes. 

Bradley opens his mouth; words like venom sitting on the tip of his tongue. Quincy closes her eyes and braces herself for the yelling that she knows is coming. 

“Hey, let’s table it for tomorrow. Yeah?” 

If Jake wasn’t already her favorite, now he certainly is. 

Bradley turns to him. His cheeks are tomato red and his wrath sitting in the base of his throat. He has half the mind to come unglued on him before he remembers the pit of guilt from earlier. The putrid watery feeling of guilt dampens his vocal chords. His sentences dig a grave in his voicebox. 

Jake is right. 

His daughter can barely sit up straight and you’re upstairs trying to sleep. There’s no point in waking the entire house and having a one-sided screaming match with someone who will only have the faintest memory of what happened the next morning. 

Bradley lets out a hefty breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. Jake claps him on the shoulder in silent praise for his decision to drop it. Never would he have ever thought that Jake Seresin of all people would be the one discouraging him from being a total hothead. 

“Thanks for bringing her home, man. Sorry about – you know –” he attempts to apologize. Apologies to you rolled off his tongue like water rolled off waterfalls. They just didn’t have that effect when it came to other people who weren’t you. 

“Don’t sweat it. Wouldn’t be stickin’ around if I took half the shit you say to heart.” 

It’s not funny but Bradley laughs. He doesn’t know if it’s a feeble attempt at repairing the hurt he had done earlier or if it’s to absolve some of the fury that was sitting unleashed in the room, but he’s never been more thankful for Jake in that moment. 

Bradley starts to walk Jake to the front door and back out to his truck. Despite being the flashiest and cockiest person he knows, Jake has had the same car for close to twenty years. The silver F-150 had seen many drunk Bradleys and many drunk yous. He just wished that his daughter wouldn’t have been a passenger on the faux “drunk bus” too. 

He’ll never admit it, but part of him is jealous that Quincy called Jake instead of him. He wants to classify the feeling as betrayal, but he knows that it’s just envy. He knows that he would’ve called Maverick at this age instead of his mom. It’s a teenage rite of passage and nothing personal. 

“Look, it’s late and I know you’re pissed but she did the right thing. The party got busted, you know. And she uh – her friends were drinking, like a lot, and wanted her to get in the car with them,” Jake pauses, making sure Bradley is hearing the case of positives he’s building for Quincy, “She said no and then she called me.” 

Bradley nods his head and the tension in his shoulders starts to relax bit by bit. He’s oddly comforted by his daughter’s morality despite committing the precipice of what makes up an immoral teenager to get herself in this damn situation anyway. 

“Most kids don’t do that and I know she isn’t most kids so uh – don’t go too hard on her tomorrow?” 

The open door of the truck makes a high-pitched dinging noise as Jake’s legs sit half situated on the seat and halfway steady on the ground. The soft yellow light emitting from the streetlights tints the world in a sepia hue. 

“Can’t promise that. She’s in some serious shit.” 

Jake chuckles. “Serious shit or not, that’s still your baby. She needs you more than you think, you know.” 

The car door is shut and the engine is cranked. Bradley pats the hollowed metal of the truck as a “goodnight and goodbye” send-off as Jake backs out of his driveway and into the street. He watches as he rounds the corner to the stop sign before the image of his friend’s truck draws smaller and smaller and smaller until the image is microscopic. 

Bradley finds his way back inside and sees his daughter lying on her side with a throw blanket swallowing her figure. 

He heads into the kitchen to grab her a glass of water and some Advil to set on the coffee table. Bradley doesn’t recall being hungover so much as just sick to his fucking stomach the first time he drank, but he leaves it for her just in case. His eyes catch the bottom cabinet that houses the popcorn buckets and mixing bowls and grabs the largest one to serve as her “catch-all” puke bucket for the night. 

As he settles everything and makes his journey upstairs to your shared bedroom, he hears the wet wretch of what cannot be mistaken for vomiting. His heart harbors empathy for his little girl, but his brain garners no sympathy for her. Some sick part of him is glad that she’s throwing up because it’s a consequence that he doesn’t have to impose on her. She had done it to herself. 

“That’s what I thought."

He turns off the bedside lamp as he lays down next to you. You don’t stir from your deep sleep. The house is finally quiet and everything as is it should be. 

Bradley just doesn’t like the fact that this kind of peace is tainted with the fact that Quincy is growing up and that there is nothing he can do to stop it. 

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

There’s a reason that london puts barriers on the tube line

that's my type of doc titl btw. 9/10 Bia approved

OH HECK YES OKAYOKAY

(That’s actually the lyrics to a Wilbur Soot song by the way hehe)

OKAY SO this is the official title for my Crime Boys Modern AU! More specifically, the main fic. I have been working on this since September 😭

If you click on this you can see the very art piece that inspired this FREAKING 20,000 WORD FIC. I AM PROBABLY HALFWAY DONE. THIS IS A ONE-SHOT.

So basically, it’s all from Tommy’s POV. He’s fifteen years old, Wilbur is his older brother, Tubbo is his best friend, and Phil is just kinda there.

The fic starts off more slice-of-life-y. It’s just Tommy living life; fighting with Wilbur, going to school, etc.

But, as the fic progresses, things start to change. Wilbur grows more and more stressed—because of Many reasons. This man has been taking on the role of Tommy’s older brother as well as his parent since he was eight years old, okay. My man is not fine. He is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he’s also going to college. He is no okay.

Tommy notices his brother becoming not-fine, and he’s confused more than anything. Wilbur isn’t opening up and telling people about what he’s dealing with, and as a result, it’s leaving people confused and worried. Wilbur also tends to get snappy when he’s upset, which leads to many unpleasant crime boys interactions :’(

I guess this fic is kinda… Wilbur’s downfall, in a way. It’s essentially the Pogtopia arc in a modern setting except there are no caves and no L’manburg and no Schlatt and no Techno and everything is actually quite a bit different. But still.

As Wilbur deteriorates, Tommy tries to help him out. He tries so darn hard, because he loves his brother, but ultimately Tommy doesn’t understand the situation/what Wilbur’s dealing with, and therefore doesn’t really know what to do about it.

So in short: the fic starts off fluffy, gets sadder, and at the end it’s just. Angst. 100%. Nearly has a terrible ending for everyone involved.

I’ve got the main sections planned out in my head, including the ending, but it’s the smaller moments between all those that I’ve struggled with. I’ve actually been stuck for weeks now :’0

I think what I need to do is… go through and edit the whole thing. Because it’s legit over 20,000 words. Which is. A lot. And I haven’t exactly edited… any. Of it. Just yet. Which is kinda bad. So. Um.

And I really do want to go through and edit/revise, but there’s so much. Gahhhh.

I think it’s gotten to the point where I won’t have much luck writing more until I do that, though. So I’ve been putting it off XD

BUT I really must edit soon. Maybe I’ll start tonight…

I actually wanna completely rewrite the opening scene, because I don’t really like what I currently have for it.

OH and I must say: my friend Pinestripe has been such a massive help to me for this fic!! Like, she’s read through most of what I’ve written for it and reviewed and been excited and ajsvajsvajsviwvs

Without her I don’t think I’d have written nearly as much of it as I have, so BIG thank you to her!!!

Gosh. I love this AU so much. It’s definitely the most in-depth AU I’ve ever come up with, and at this point it’s kinda important to me, and I… I don’t know, man. I just hope I can actually finish it. I’ve been working on it so long, and have put so much time and effort into it… I really hope I can finish it. I want to. Very, very badly.

[derpychica]

Hello!! Not sure if requests are currently open. Can I ask for Glamrock freddy x animatronic!reader? Maybe its halloween (I know halloween is over-) and they get to dress up, reader is wearing a bride outfit (like corpse bride!) and he's just head over heels for them? Thank you! (≧▽≦)

☆ Gahhhh! Sosososo cute! As soon as I saw this I knew I had to write it down, thank you for the request! Enjoy rockstar.

“Surprise, groom!��

☆ glamrock freddy x (gn) animatronic reader!

☆ content warning: none!

☆ note: I tried making this as gender-neutral as possible for the reader, i apologize if it doesn’t seem that way!

Halloween! The holiday full of tooth aching candy and gruesome scares. The time where you snuggle close to your boyfriend awaiting for a jump scare. Or maybe carving ripe pumpkins into creative faces. It was one of the best times of the year, especially for the Mega Pizzaplex. There was never a Halloween to pass without some extreme event commencing.

“Oh my goshhh! I’m so excited for Halloween! Are you guys!? Are you excited!?” Chica happily exclaimed as she excitedly turned to you and Roxanne with her hands behind her back and a cheeky grin. Roxanne huffed and rolled her eyes- as for you, you nodded in agreement. “Yes! Its gunna be great, are you not happy, Roxy? Are you worried your gunna loose the Halloween contest like last year?” Your snarky comment caused Roxanne to groan in annoyance.

“Hey! First of all, I would’ve won if it weren’t for Monty and his stupid Gator onesie. Like- that isn’t even a REAL costume! I cant believe all those people voted for him…” Roxanne complained, simply fueling with anger at the memory. Chica laugh whole heartily and gave Roxanne a soft pat on the back. “Maybe you’ll win this year if Monty doesn’t blown everyone away again!” She teased the fox which earned a hard smack on her metal head.

You laughed as you began your walk to your room- knowing that your dress and makeup wasn’t gunna go on itself. “Are we still gunna meet up at the [insert random spot in mall] before the costume contest?” Chica yelled from afar, still rubbing the spot Roxanne had harshly smacked. You nodded in confirmation, waving bye to your friends upon entering your room.

You sigh with content, your bubbling excitement seem to sore. You skipped your way to your closet, pushing away all your neon fashioned clothes and pulling out the purely white gown. You happily examined it, you wore it before but since it was so old- it had tatters across along with some mysterious stains. But you didn’t mind, it would fit perfectly with the Halloween atmosphere. Just a dash of makeup and some touches should just do the trick.

☆

Chica and Roxanne waited for your arrival meanwhile they chatted amongst themselves. They chirped and yapped about their costumes and giving opinions here and there. “Hey guys! You look great!” You announced, looking at Chica who wore Roxanne’s clothing and Roxanne wearing Chica’s. You assumed they were dressed up as each other. Once they turned around, they both gasped in sync. “Oh my!! Freddy is dif gunna get a kick out of this! His paws are totally gunna fall off once checking you out.” Chica winked, admiring how the your gown flowed elegantly and your makeup which was smudged the slightest on purpose. “My, my. Good looking bride, but not as good looking as me.” Roxanne who practically back-handed complimented you.

You scoffed but non the less laughed. “I hope it’s not too much, I thought I should use this dress for old times sake.” You stated which earned a soft giggle from Chica. “It’s really not, your literally gunna win tonight’s contest. Ready to go, princess?” Chica offered a hand sarcastically. You pushed her hand away. “Sorry…but I’m already taken by the one named Freddy.” You goofily played along.

The three of you continued to joke around, occasionally Chica and Roxanne teasing you about Freddy. You attempts to brush them off by saying you both were friends were fatal every time. But you didn’t mind, you’d like to think you and him where way more then just companies.

But when they had finally moved along with the topic, you found yourselves at the main course of attraction. They were many people of all ages dressed up- some even seemed to be dressed up as the glamrock crew which amazed you. You guess they really did love you to pull off a costume like that.

As you continued to scan the overwhelming crowd, your eyes seem to stop and fixate on a familiar top hat. Your eyes gleamed as you apart from Chica and Roxanne to talk with Freddy. You wanted to catch his reaction to your outfit more than anything. Honestly, it made you sickly giddy inside.

“Hey Fred, enjoying so far?” You started, tapping Freddy’s back so he can face you. Freddy jumped slightly but yet faced you with a smile which seemed to quickly disappear. Uh oh, did he not like it? Was it too much? Did Chica just say that to make you feel better? You looked into Freddy’s features, awaiting some kind of response. “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” You worriedly wondered but was answered when Freddy nervously chuckled. He scratched the back of his head and smile sweetly “No, no! You just look…really beautiful is all. I mean- you look outstanding!” Freddy flustered over you, still looking up and down from your gown.

You grinned and now just realized Freddy was wearing a fancy suit. It had popping gold trimming at the bottom of his vest and slacks, and a bright red bow tie to top it off. Of course not forgetting his top hat. “Thank you, Freddy! I’m glad you think so…Uhm, you look great yourself. Very fancy.” You shyly commented, feeling embarrassed by the obvious love stares he was giving you. It was Freddy’s turn to shy away. He was about to thank you until the intercom had suddenly bursted across the mall

“Attention all! It is now time that you’ve alllll~ been waiting for! Glamrock crew please make your way on stage and show those striking costumes of yours! And for the others, please cast your votes in front of you. Pink resembles our colorful bird, Chica! Green resembles our coolest Gator, Montgomery! Purple resembles our dearest fox, Roxanne! [Favorite color] resembles our loving, [Y/n]! And finally, favorite of all, blue for our rocking bear, Freddy!!” The intercom beamed, as everyone began to shout in excitement.

Freddy looked back at you. “We should get going! Come on.” Freddy extended his hand out to you. You flushed immediately but hurriedly accepted his hand. “Of course my groom!”

Freddy casted his one vote to you that night.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Fic Friday 200k Edition

It's a very special Fic Friday today! GAHHHH! I never, ever thought that I would make it this far and had assumed that I would have given up by now, but I have not. It has been such a ride and such a wonderful experience, and I have met so many lovely, beautiful people along the way who have made this journey such a blessing for me. I'd like to thank @dumpsterhipster, @nocturnalswarehouse, and @oblivions-dawn as well as anyone who has ever encouraged me, interacted with me, or read anything that I have written. I write because I genuinely love doing so, but I also post it because I love to share. Ok, I'll stop now. This isn't the Grammys.

Link: In the Midst of Winter

Rating: E (Minors DNI with the explicit content)

Pairing: Dahlia Wintersnow (OC Dragonborn)/Ulfric Stormcloak

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, explicit content, minor references to past non-con, minor character death

Snippet:

When she reaches the front door to the Palace of the Kings, it swings open quietly for once. The hinges must have been oiled recently as the they normally make such a racket that it could wake even the dead any time someone enters the building. But not tonight. Tonight, she is forced to wake one body in particular herself.

Dahlia sighs as her feet move her steadily closer to the War Room, then to the second floor, and finally to the door of Ulfric’s room. A dark pit of emotion blooms in her stomach when one of her trembling hands raises to knock on the door.

A sense of foreboding. That is what she is feeling. Instead of happiness, she feels nothing but dread. Of course, she is delighted and even excited to see Ulfric again, but will he feel the same after she has been gone so long? If what Stone-Fist said is to be believed, the answer to that question is uncertain, and the very reason why she hesitates to knock on his door.

Her hand falls to her side.

This is stupid. She is the Dragonborn, and Ulfric is her lover. Why should she be afraid to knock on his door? And why should she have to knock on it at all?

Before she loses what little resolve she has gained, she turns the knob on the door and pushes it open.

When her feet finally cross the threshold of the Jarl’s room, each leaden step she takes echoes like the temple bells of Solitude.

[goditsmeagain]

gahhhh!! I’m caught up with paint it and i’ve also read like all your other steddie!! so underrated and under appreciated 😔 no pressure but i’m excited for the new chapter!!!

thank you so much!!! it's getting much more plot heavy from this point for a few chapters, so updates may be a bit slower (I want to get it right 😓)

though knowing how mad I go when writing bc of steddie brainrot and my need to make Eddie feel loved, update may be tonight. no promises... probably tomorrow

[riosnecktattoo]

Are you excited for the Dean/Brio scene tonight? not going to lie I'm kind of nervous I just hope it's not embarrassing lol . What would you like or expect to see in that scene?

I AM!!!! GAHHHH I cannot believe we haven't had a Dean and Brio scene since 2x01 I'm gonna go CRAZY!

Even the promo moment was enough like OMFG Brio just chilling together and Rio all like YOU'RE INTRUDING ON OUR DATE and smug when Dean comes in?!? Anxjdsbsiwbzjnshdbs

I'm gonna be honest I love embarrassing. Like I thrive off second-hand embarrassment. Even if it's me I get a weird kick out of it. It's so funny. The more embarrassing the scene is the better in my eyes. I hope Dean slips on a stray dollar bill slapstick-style and Rio laughs like YOU'RE STILL WITH THIS ABSOLUTE CARROT?!?!?

I would like the scene to be established with Beth and Rio alone all chatty and bantery (in my dreamworld, Rio says something dumb and Beth chuckles to herself and Rio notices and then she covers it quickly) but ANYWAY

Then Dean comes in and is just so cringe and the whole convo is cringe and Rio just watches like it's spontaneous Am Dram and has a great time.

(Bonus if he manages to slip in a veiled comment that makes it clear he fingered his wife to orgasm after she had dinner with Rio's family)

[wooyukh]

OMG ADI POST AS LATE AS YOU WANT BC OMG THAT IS SO EXCTING??? AHHHH I LOVE THESE THINGS SO MUCH AND CONGRATS TO YOUR BROTHER IN ADVANCE 🥰🥰🥰 -🧃

i’m excited too gahhhh 🥺🥺!!!! i’ll try posting the part tonight or tomorrow bc besides helping i do have a lot of school work <///3

[xjoonchildx]

ANAA i hope u r doing well queen - i just the posted drabble/epilogue for guilty and i LITERALLY only read the first 4 sentences and im already scREAMING im so excited to read the rest tonight but i just had to come on here and say something in the meantime hehe and like all the parts to guilty, your writing is so good that i literally scroll so slowly to savor what you've given us and idk if i wanna read it all now & procrastinate on hw or save it for tonight bc i also dont wanna say goodbye:c

gahhhh i hope you like it!

thank you so much for saying this 💕💕💕

can we both take a moment to appreciate THIS goodness though?

[allie1804-fan]

Please Assist Me (Chapter 15)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10 , Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14

Warnings : Explicit content

She Said

Having those 2 days with Keanu and no kids was blissful but it still didn’t feel like long enough. We’d got up briefly for lunch but found ourselves back in bed mid afternoon having a serious conversation. The e mail Keanu had received about the Matrix shoot had meant we wanted to make the most of our time to make love without having to keep quiet but it also made it more pressing to talk about whether to tell the kids we were an item, whether he would sleep over at my house at all before going away and how we would deal with being apart.

In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell the kids. I knew I wanted him in my life but the fact was, he was going to be away, maybe for 4 or even 5 months so I was unsure about him being around a lot for the next few weeks then just as suddenly disappearing.  

“What if you all came with me and we rent a little house over there? You said school is likely to be online for the rest of the year right?”

“Could we even do that? – nobody in Europe wants Americans over there do they? And it would mean me doing all the home schooling and they’d only have each other, none of their friends. I’m sorry but I think it would just be too disruptive for them - we have to stay here, hard as it is”

He looked crestfallen but I think he knew it was a non starter.  

“But please, let’s just tell the kids” he pleaded. I want to spend as much time as I can with you before I go and if they don’t know, that’s gonna be tough.  And I know you said you didn’t want me to just disappear and that is what I will be doing but, in the future ….”

He paused for emphasis, leaving the ‘future’ word hanging in the air

“In the future, we’re going to have to tackle that challenge every time I have a shoot on location so we’ll just use modern technology right? So they know I’m thinking of them and still there for you even if not in person”

I hugged him to me

“OK, OK, you’re right, let’s start as we mean to go on. Why don’t you come for dinner and sleep over tonight?”

“Deal” he replied, hugging me back.

He Said

I could tell Sophia was a little hesitant about telling the children and going all in with me being “official” before I went to Germany but I couldn’t bear to be apart from her any more than strictly necessary and with my job, this wasn’t going to be just a one off problem. If we wanted to make it work into the future, we had to find a way to deal with this from the get-go.

Later that afternoon, I followed her to Miranda’s house to fetch the children, taking my bike so I’d have transport the following day.

Miguel and Eva were thrilled to see me and begged me to prove to the other kids that I was indeed Duke Caboom! It was fun and still not something that happened too often for me, with other characters being the focus of attention more often. It took a while to get away from there,  it being my first time meeting one of the other parents in the bubble and I could tell that news had spread from Julie to Miranda that I wasn’t just Sophia’s boss anymore.

Over dinner Sophia made the announcement to the children that Eva was right that I was now her boyfriend.

“Does that mean you’re going  to be our daddy now” Miguel asked in a matter of fact way.

I shook my head and took a minute to swallow my food.

“No, no I’m not because only your daddy can ever be your daddy. I’ll be around here more and I will do some things with you that dads usually do -  like errm  play games with you or hug you better when you’re hurt,  or give you a ride somewhere but I’m not taking his place. So for example tonight I’m here for dinner and I’ll read one of you a bedtime story and then I’m gonna sleep over and be there in the morning to help your mom get you up and ready for school OK?”

“and are you gonna be in mom’s bed because you’re her boyfriend now” Eva piped up with her older child’s knowledge.

I blushed and let Sophia take that one!

“Yes he is, so no sneaking in during the night - there’s not room for more than 2 in my bed”

“So I’m really looking forward to seeing more of you two but I’m also going to have to work away quite soon because I’m making a film in Germany and I have to stay there until it’s all done but we’ll do video calls until I come home so you don’t forget about me”

The children seemed to take all this in their stride thankfully which was a relief to us both. I hoped things really would run smoothly even though it was going to be tough and kind of an up and down beginning to our relationship.

That night I had my first taste in a very long time of making love as quietly as possible so as to avoid detection. I must have been a teenager when I last had to do that! It did make for quite an intense experience though with Sophia shuddering against me, pressing her mouth into my neck as she came followed by me kissing her hard to contain my moans of delight shortly after her.

My next new experience came at 7 the next morning when the kids basically leapt onto the bed and did a pile-on, excited at a new person being in the family mix. It was a bit of a rude awakening but also one that filled my heart with warm fuzzies to be part of this family unit.

 She Said

The day I’d been dreading had arrived. It was the last day before Keanu was travelling to Germany. It was Julie’s school day so I dropped the  kids with her and headed over to his house. He put on a pot of coffee and pulled me towards him for a kiss. I found myself puckering up to the air though as he held back, letting me make a fool of myself, eyes closed, waiting expectantly for his kiss. It was one of his silly jokes that he’d developed in the past 3 weeks since we’d been together more often. It was funny how much of a goofball he could be as well as so serious and focussed.

I laughed and punched him on arm but as I looked out of the kitchen window, a wave of sadness overtook me.

“Hey what’s up?”

“gahhhh, I just worry that this wonderful time we’ve been having, our laughter, our passion, it’s all just going to make the next few months  even harder……..”

He gently placed his hands on my upper arms then, looking me seriously in the eyes. He seemed ready to give me a proper talking to!

“But Sophia  sweetheart,  the alternative sucks right? I tell you, I am done with closing myself off to love to protect myself, life’s just too short” He paused for a moment “And I do love you”

“You do?”

“Yes!”

“I love you too!” I know my tone was perhaps inappropriately sad, but I was just feeling so wretched about him going.

“Hey, but that’s a good thing right? That it’s mutual?”

I nodded and let him pull me into his arms and hold me tight.

 He Said

It was an odd moment when we said those three little words. With my impending departure, it just seemed to make Sophia all the more heartbroken that I was leaving just at this moment.

I felt her shake against me uncontrollably  and let her wet my shirt with her tears for  a while.

Then I decided to use the weapon of kisses and positive words to try and pull her out of it.

First I put my fingers under her chin, encouraging her to look at me.

“Please don’t cry” which I followed with a gentle kiss.

“It will be ok”  - another kiss.

“It will fly by, I promise” another kiss.

“I’m just going to miss you so much!” she whispered.

“Me too” – I got in yet another kiss.

“Come with me, let’s make the most of this day huh?, let me make love to you. Let’s make something beautiful for the memory bank.”

I was as slow and tender and as passionate as I knew how to be that day.  We stroked, hugged, and kissed; we fucked and we made love. We tasted and savoured each other during those precious moments, until we eventually lay exhausted in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

“I wish I hadn’t waited so long to wake up and realise how I felt about you  - I’ve wanted you for so long and now I know we both just wish we could press pause  - but I have to go”

“I know, but you’re right. We’ll get through it, it will be hard  but we’ll come out the other side”

I laughed at her new-found optimism.

“Are we trading places on who’s O for optimistic and who’s H for heartbroken?”

She giggled at that and agreed.

“Let’s try to both be at O for a while, OK?”

“Deal”

We held each other tight for a long time after that, committing everything about each other to memory to see us through until my return in the winter.

I managed to stay at O until later that evening, alone again and finishing my packing before the car came and found she had snuck in a copy of “Persuasion” by Jane Austen to my carry on. She had been shocked that I hadn’t read it even though it was this major plot point in ‘The Lake House’. She had banked on my being thorough enough in my preparation to actually read it but I confessed I hadn’t.  I couldn’t help the tears that came then  - we were so alike! I had prepared a little reading package for her too which I would leave in the kitchen for her to discover when she came to  feed the fish. It was a volume of love poems in the original Spanish by Neruda and another book to help in her journey of discovery of Dostoyevsky, ‘The Idiot’

I hoped these tokens of affection would help us each get through the next few months but at that moment I was heartsore at the prospect.

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @witty-wallflower @paperplanesandwallflowers @bitchyslut99 @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @fanficsrusz @keanuficfiles  

[i-am-robie]

Gahhhh I’m always so excited when I see the update notification for MG au (as I was with WD au), but at the same time I kinda don’t wanna read it right away, bc then I have to wait for the next chapter. So I keep trying to fool my brain to wait a few days to read the update, cos then I’ll have “fewer” days to wait for the next one 😅🤦🏻‍♀️ I’ll prob just read it tonight anyway, cos I’m loving the plot and can’t wait to see those gals flirting/getting together. Congrats and great work!!

ok honestly I think my favorite thing this week has been learning that people are actually looking forward to MG au updates, so like, I’m absolutely not ok about it lol. I love this fic but it is SO different than WD au...and it means a lot that you’re enjoying it enough to try to savor it like that haha. Hope you enjoy ch 3 when you get to it!

[poignantpulchritude]

Silly Pleasures-Chapter 3

“No, no, no we are not wearing just blue jeans and lip balm to Paradise tonight, go back to your room!”

“C’mon, it’ll be dark, no one will see.”

“But I will see. It’s the principal of the thing Jeanne,” Molly responded, sounding much more like a disappointed mother than friend and flat mate.

“Then you need to help me because I think you’ll hate anything I’d come down in.”

“Fine, gimme a few,” Molly spoke as she curled the last few strands of her golden hair.

I trudged my way back to my room, there were already clothes strewn all over the floor, making it difficult to walk. I plopped down on my bed, laying in down until my body was directly in the center. Clubs were not usually my scene, I much preferred a grimy pub because I liked talking, not really dancing, when drunk. No one ever talked at clubs, words were replaced by groping and bad remixes of passable songs. The saving grace for tonight was that we were going to have a table in the VIP section, which meant less interaction with overly friendly guys that felt they were God’s gift to women’s vaginas.

Molly sauntered into my room and headed straight for my closet. I lifted my head off the bed to watch her rummage through the mess I created. It took a few minutes as more clothes were thrown onto my floor until Molly finally made a triumphant sound and pulled out a small pink dress I was sent by one of my regulars. It was a bright, neon pink mini dress with sheer pink long sleeves. The dress had never seen the light of day since it arrived in the post since, I don’t spend much of my free time strutting around in expensive party dresses.

“Hmmm, I don’t know Molls, it’s pretty bright.”

“It’s fabulous, I know someone sent it to you because everything else you own is so dull. You absolutely have to wear it!”

“I don’t even know if it fits,” I groaned, falling back into my fluffy duvet. 

*

It fit. 

In reality, it actually looked quite nice. I mostly only dressed up in expensive lingerie while online and that covered very little of my body, if any of it. I tried to be annoyed that it was a dress, but found it hard to give reasons why I should not wear it.

“Okay fine,” I conceded with a smirk. Molly squealed and did a small hop in the air.

“You look like Dua Lipa with a fatter bum, it’s amazing!”

I giggled to myself and could not hide the smile. The dress was short enough to show of my large thigh tattoo of Medusa, but not too short that I felt my thong was on show. I paired the look with white, patent leather boots, looking a bit like it was 1980 and I was coming out of Studio 54. 

With my makeup and hair complete, I headed downstairs at the exact moment a knock came on our door. I headed down the hall and opened the door to see Rosie and Amber looking dashing in tight black dresses and thigh high boots. It seemed at time that they wanted to look like twins the amount of times they would dress the same. When turned my way, their jaws dropped. 

“What the fuck J, you look hot!”

“-Jesus, let’s make out tonight!”

I shut up both of their ramblings with quick hugs and invited them inside. The plan was to meet up at me and Molly’s place and then meet Keith at Paradise. Paradise was in the heart of Soho and even though we were not too far away, we collectively agreed we would walk as little as possible tonight. As we walked back to the kitchen, Molly was descending the stairs in a bright blue jumpsuit that made everyone in the room drool. 

“To getting fucked!” Amber exclaimed as we all held tequila shots in the air.

“Wait literally or figuratively?” Rosie asked.

“Doesn’t matter!” Molly said at the same time I yelled, “Both!”

As the shot burned down my throat, I relished the warmth that would no doubt lead to an exciting night.

“Gahhhh that’s dreadful,” Molly gagged.

*

The line outside of Paradise was ridiculous. It hadn’t been open very long and the crowds had yet to die down. We spotted Keith on his phone, standing right by the front door. “Oh, my god, I was so nervous I thought for a minute you would ditch me,” he said sheepishly.

“What the fuck?” I asked rhetorically, in a confused manner.

“When have we ever ditched you?” Molly questioned, amused at his anxiety. 

“God, I don’t know, never mind. I just learned that Matt is supposed to be here so every second I was alone I started feeling terrible.” I gave him a soft look in response. Matt was Keith’s ex-boyfriend, a man that completely ripped his heart to shreds yet he had not been able to completely get over him. 

“Don’t worry, you probably won’t see him anyway,” Rosie assured him. Keith did not look convinced, but brushed it off and led us to the doors. It only took a few seconds to check for his name on the list and we were let in, skipping at least eighty people waiting in line. 

I hated to give clubs too much credit, but Paradise looked impressive inside. The walls were a jungle print wallpaper with low yellow lights along the sides. The VIP section was located along the sides of the room, surrounding the main dance floor with its own bars behind it. All of the people dancing in the center of the floor helped explain the long line outside. This place was filled to capacity and it was still early in the night. We were led to our VIP booth and greeted by an almost nude girl with sparklers next to a bottle of champagne and vodka.

“Oh yes!” Amber screamed. We all looked at the bottle girl in awe, seeing her as the female Hermes with alcohol as the only message to deliver. Behind her appeared another man carrying a large bucket of ice that contained glasses and mixers. Our entire group was in, well, paradise. 

“This may end up being one of the best nights of my life,” I spoke, or more accurately- yelled, in Keith’s ear. He just smiled, appearing to finally brush off his nervousness surrounding Matt. 

Eventually, with the champagne popped and the bottles flowing, we noticed the VIP section start to fill with a very particular crowd. 

“Molly!” Rosie shouted, “Is that fucking Alexa Chung?” Skipping subtlety, she pointed directly at the slim brunette a few tables over. 

“Oh, my god, what is happening,” I heard Molly respond. Looking around, I noticed more and more people with jarring numbers of Instagram followers enter the VIP section.

“Just think, you may be able to get expensive dick tonight!” Keith hollered and I cackled loudly in response and agreement. 

Instead of focusing too much on the people entering, myself and Amber were making increasingly more vile drinks that we convinced ourselves tasted good. Amber, getting considerably more drunk as time passed, pulled me out of our booth and to the small section of floor directly in front of our booth that was still blocked off from the general public. My own tipsiness spurring on the decision to dance wildly.

“I love this song!” she screamed in my ear as a throwback 2000s song played to the crowd’s delight. We danced and jumped in circles until we couldn’t anymore. Along with our absurd dancing, we also decided to shout the lyrics, trying to be louder than the speakers. Molly quickly joined us, leaving Rosie and Keith to have an animated conversation back at our booth. 

I could tell I was slowly getting to the point of drunk, right at that sweet spot when everything was pleasant and bright. I always had to pee at these points. “Come with me to pee!” I said to Molly and Amber, very excited to check out the Paradise bathroom. Before they could properly respond, I grabbed both of their hands and dragged them to toilets in the back corner. I was so excited, I was not watching where I was walking and ended up bumping into a tall guy’s shoulder. “Sorry!” I exclaimed with a giggle, ripping my hands free from Molly and Amber and instead placed one hand on his silk shirt by his shoulder and the other on his check. “Sorry!” I yelled again with a smile, looking intently into his green eyes that looked vaguely familiar. I did not have time to get a better look at his face because my bladder took control of my body and I was suddenly done with our little interaction. I heard a surprised, happy laugh behind me as we all walked away.

The line for the toilets was short enough that we were actually waiting right outside the stalls by the mirrors. I love mirrors and couldn’t help myself as I walked over and whipped out my phone to catch a good angle. 

“Whoa, whoa J. Did you know who that just was?” Amber said, incredibly eager. Molly looked in shock and it was clear that I missed something very big.

“Who? The girl with the nice boots we just walked past?” I asked genuinely confused. Before Amber could respond a stall emptied and I quickly ran inside, dragging Amber and Molly with me. They were both having a quite an animated conversation above me as I peed, but the floor was spinning a bit too much for me to care. I knew I had only one drink left in me before I was done for the night, so it had to be a good one. 

“I’m going to get a Moscow Mule!” I declared when I finished peeing. 

“But we have free alcohol at the table,” Molly said firmly. She seemed the most put together of the bunch, but I knew I was deceived, having learned over time that the more serious she appeared the drunker she actually was. I just shrugged, smiled, and walked out of the stall without waiting for them to pee. When I was drunk and on a mission, nothing else mattered.

I made my way steadily to the bar in the back, making sure not to run into anymore moving bodies. This bar was packed considering it was in the noticeably calmer section of the club. I squeezed my way in between groups of people, maneuvering between flirting guys and annoyed girls, ending up in snuggled between the shoulders of two men. The one on the right had a crisp white button up while the one on the left had an odd silk shirt with tigers all over it. I remembered it as the shirt I bumped into moments ago. Before I could yell in his ear that I apparently knew him, someone jostled me from behind. This knocked me further forward in between the two men, alerting them to my intrusive presence.

I was met once again by green eyes, but this time I did get the chance to look at him more. He was at taller than me, with brown hair pushed in all directions over his head. As I examined his face more, I noticed the corners of his mouth turn upwards revealing a prominent dimple. It took me a moment to realize he may have been smiling because I was staring so intently at his lips. 

“I know you!” he spoke happily in a deep, English accent. This brought me out of my analysis of his lips to actually pay attention to what he was saying. 

“I just ran into you!” I yelled.

“I did it first,” he smiled. I was not sure what he meant by that statement, but before I could question it his friend spoke.

“Hello lovely, do we know each other?”

I turned to look at his friend and detected immediately that it was the man I listened to every morning on my way to class. “Ah!” I shouted and Nick Grimshaw grimaced at my noise, “I know you, but you don’t know me. You’re on the radio and friends with Matty Healy!” 

He gave his friend an amused look and responded, “That I am, do you know who that is?” he questioned, pointing back at silk shirt boy. 

“Yea, he’s the boy I bumped into on the way to pee, we’re friends now,” I affirmed proudly. I heard them both laugh at my words, but I was not paying much attention anymore as the bartender came by us and I yelled quickly, “A Moscow Mule please and thanks!”

I had my body pressed quite closely to silk shirt boy, with my hand resting on the bar, ready to take my drink when it arrived. “I like your dress,” he spoke from above. I just looked up and smiled before raising both arms over my head in an excited movement, showing off my sleeves.

“Thanks! My friend gave it to me.” I’m not sure if I would really consider the client that sent me the dress much of a friend, but I thought explaining in this state would be too much trouble. 

His eyes went to my left forearm when I lifted my arms above my head. Green eyes widened at the tattoo before him, a large snake cut into eighths with the words ‘Join or Die’ etched below it. “Wow this is amazing, may I?” he asked, suggesting a closer look. 

I obliged and pulled up my left sleeve so he could get a clearer view without the sheer pink material over it. “It’s obnoxiously American of me,” I informed him giggling from the alcohol. He gave me a confused look before I continued, “It’s a Benjamin Franklin cartoon about the Revolutionary War. This is probably a tough crowd to show it off in.” I’m not sure how many Englishmen wanted to be reminded of their lost colony. 

“That’s sick,” he responded enthusiastically, gently tracing his finger along the edges of the snake, causing my arm to break out in goosebumps.

“Moscow Mule, twelve pounds.”

The bartender broke me from my trance as I used the hand that was being examined to rip out my credit card from my bra. I heard Nick laugh loudly at the action. “What, it’s the safest place for a girl to carry her delicates. I have everything in here.” Nick and his friend both gave me skeptical looks, urging my innate need to prove myself to come to a head. I then proceeded to whip out two Advil, forty pounds, my ID, and three condoms from my bra.

“Why do you need three of them?” Nick asked, referencing the condoms.

“Because you never know what could happen,” I shrugged, looking up at the silk shirt boy boldly. He raised his eyebrows and looked straight back into my eyes. I felt a small tap on the arm resting on the bar and saw the bartender handing me back my card. I quickly collected everything I pulled out my bra and returned it to its proper position, ready to take my Moscow Mule and head back to my group when a tattooed hand stopped me again. 

“What’s your name?” Silk shirt boy asked.

“You tell me yours first.”

“Harry.” I just nodded, smiling. “Now yours?”

I smirked and went up on my tip toes in my white boots, steading myself on his chest again, and whispered in his ear, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I heard his breath hitch when my lips grazed his ear. I pulled away, smirked one last time, and then walked back into the crowd, daring myself to not glance back. Rosie saw me giggling with my straw caught between my teeth as I returned to our group.

“You’ve been gone for a year, where were you lot?” Keith asked as Molly and Amber came up behind me, followed by two boys. 

“We need to go,” Amber smirked, motioning to the boy behind her, her conquest for the night. Everyone agreed except me, refusing to accept that my night was coming to an end since I just got my favorite drink. 

“Down it and we are going,” Molly giggled. I saw the boy behind her slowly rubbing the sides of her hips, eager to leave as well.

“How did you get them so quick?” I asked in her ear. “I was at the bar for maybe ten minutes.”

She shrugged, “We work fast.”

It took me a minute to down my drink. It would have been quicker if it was not so strong. I could tell that drink was a bad move the second the last drop went down my throat. I was holding hands with Keith as we made our way out of the club and back into reality. As we exited, we were faced with hordes of flashing lights. Paparazzi no doubt hoping we were people of notoriety considering the celebrities in attendance tonight. This thought prompted me to blurt out, “Oh, guess who I met tonight!” speaking to no one in particular. 

“You mean the popstar?” Molly’s head ripped around quick. I gave her a puzzled look, knowing full well that Nick Grimshaw did not sing any songs I was aware of.  

“Only you would not notice a former member of One Direction even though you caressed his bloody face,” Amber said behind me. I stopped moving, beginning to feel bile rise in my throat. I was unclear if I was going to get sick because of the alcohol or the new information I was slowly processing. 

“What?” Keith yelled looking at me, “Who did you meet?”

I ripped myself from his arms and ran to the closest pile of trash away from the paparazzi and threw up. I heard the sympathetic voices of my friends behind me, but I could only think of one thing. I just blew off Harry fucking Styles.

[salty-donut-collecter]

Before Us Stand The Stars

Prompt here~ Gahhhh I’ve been wanting to write more fanfiction 

Trigger warnings: Sneaking out, talk of controlling parents, mentions and descriptions of violence, mentions of jail, stress about college, abuse/ mentions of CPS, kissing, I allude to smexual things

Please don’t be afraid to ask if I need to tag anything else >.<

Word Count: 4,981 holy hecck

Couple of notes: 1) Yes I did give Virgil the last name Strengthson. I hate it just as much as you do xD 2) I am horrible at writing feelings, and I am very very bad at writing fluff which is why I’m trying to branch out with characters I’m familiar with. Feel free to tell me how I did! 3) Logan is p r e t t y out of character I’m ngl. I know, but I tried to make him as human as I could. This also takes place after some possible development through a possible storyline. 4) I am finishing this at 2:08 am and I am very bad at reading so please tell me if I need to tag anything else ;_; thank you :D 5)Also I refer to Janus and Remus as Logan’s datemates, and I hope that’s not an enby or ace exclusive term and I hope I’m not being offensive, I just like the way it sound I’m ngl. Feel free to tell me if I should change it, though !

Sneaking out was not something Logan would have done at the beginning of the school year. The first time he’d done so, he was terrified-- so sure that it wouldn’t work, that he almost caused his own demise. 

However, now it was something he did almost every weekend. Oh, how people can change you. The way adrenaline slips into your mind like a drug... It was surely addictive. However, he didn’t care much now. 

He was silent as he practically scaled his house. It was easy. He knew Janus was down the street in a vehicle, waiting patiently for him. They’d done this so many times before, he, Janus and Remus. It was a wonder he got away with it at all, with parents like his. They practically never let Logan out of their sight. No wonder he hadn’t felt anything real in his life before Freshman year. They’d controlled everything down to his emotions. 

It was “all for Logan’s benefit”, of course. Thanks to them he’d never have to worry about getting into college, or getting a job anywhere. 

As if that made up for anything. 

Once his feet hit the ground, Logan was running. The sprinkler system turned on in two minutes, and if Logan wasn’t at least in the street by then... needless to say, he’d be drenched. 

So, sprint he did. He could feel it again-- that familiar adrenaline that he craved most every day. The feeling of living. It was a tingling feeling this time. Other times, it wasn’t. It was instead a steady seeping; a wild calm that he couldn’t fully describe. 

The tingling was probably because he didn’t breathe a lot when he ran. He didn’t mind, though. Anything was better than staying in that stupid house for another minute-- that bastardised place.  

Much to Logan’s surprise, he actually made it to the street before the sprinklers turned on. He could see Remus’s truck down the way. How Remus managed to sneak out every night with that thing was beyond Logan, but he learned to accept it. 

When he got to Remus’s truck, he was greeted with familiar faces and a... warmth, that Logan always found he was missing without them. 

“Get in loser, we’re going stargazing!” Remus shouted from inside the car. Logan saw Janus wince from behind the wheel. 

Shaking his head fondly, Logan tapped on Remus’s door. The latter opened his window slowly, pretending he didn’t see Logan as he looked around outside for the source of the knock. When his eyes landed on Logan, they went wide, his crazed smile growing into a more relaxed smile-- one he practically had saved just for Logan. 

“Oh, hey nerd. Ya need something?” He asked. The entire scene earned a chuckle from Logan. 

“Tonight, would you be opposed to me riding in the trunk?” Logan asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask for a while and I understand if--”

“Of course you can!” Remus’s smile grew, “Janie, is that alright with you?”

Janus looked up from his phone, clearly not having heard anything either of them had said. He looked to Remus, who, for a moment just grinned. 

“He wants to ride in the trunk.” He finally said. 

The expression on Janus’s face was one that Logan didn’t actually recognise. Remus, however, did. His smile grew as he turned back to Logan. 

“If you take my jacket, you can.” he winked. 

So there Logan was, barbecue sauce on his titties--

I mean, there he was... sitting in the back with Remus’s leather jacket. Ahem. Logan had never sat in a moving truck trunk. It was something he was honestly excited about. 

So when the truck started moving, he tensed, expecting to fly out of the back like a ragdoll despite that being completely illogical and entirely nonsensical. Now, that didn’t stop the feeling of instability, but it did create a new and exciting knot in the pit of his stomach. He was technically breaking two laws a the very least.

Their destination was at least 20 minutes out of town, and if Logan was being honest, it was one of the funnest car rides he’d ever been on. It was perfect, really. The cold, midsummers night air blowing through his hair, the view, the cool smell of the night air blending with the green of the trees. It was something to remember, really. Even if the cold was sinking into his bones, it was the type of chill that sent pleasant shivers through your spine. The kind that you get when you eat something amazing for the first time, or when you feel something cool during a hot day. 

Logan hadn’t told the others, but today had actually been very stressful. He didn’t know if they could tell, but the stress had been piling up for a while. College would be starting soon, and he was expected to get into an Ivy League school, when in reality, he was debating whether or not he wanted to go to college yet or not. His parents expected him to become a doctor or scientist. He didn’t want that at all-- or anything even remotely close to it. 

He wanted to teach, he was finding. He’d actually been tutoring Remus for a while now, as well as his brother, and their friend, Patton. It was something he enjoyed doing very much-- a puzzle he loved solving with them. He also taught Virgil how to study more efficiently-- something that had given them both a big confidence boost in their academics. 

He also loved astronomy and astrology.  Seeing the stars in person was something Logan had secretly wanted to do his entire life. To actually see a nebula in person, or to be among the nebulae? Logan felt his lungs grow tight with exasperating excitement just thinking about it. 

At the thought of nebulae, Logan looked to the sky. He didn’t actually know where Janus and Remus were taking him. He knew they were to be stargazing, but they said there would be something special about it tonight. He’d checked dates for anything big happening in the sky tonight, and he found nothing. So what could it be, he wondered. 

His wondering came to a halt when the car did. They were stopped in a very... peculiar spot. Also known as the ditch. The ditch of an old, abandoned highway. 

Remus got out first, ginormous backpack on with a flashlight in hand. He offered a free hand to Logan, who took it. “Acushla, you should probably put a lot of bug spray on.” Remus grinned that softer grin, and Logan agreed. 

The bug spray was completely unopened, and Logan had no doubt in his mind that Remus had stolen it from Walmart. Things were cheap there, but Walmart was cheap, so he couldn’t care less, really. Applying it didn’t smell nice, either, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. If it meant he wouldn’t have to deal with bug bites on top of his eczema, then he would be happy to apply a generous amount. 

“C’mon, LoLo Lugbug! Let us adventure-- INtO thE UnKnOwNNN~” Remus pulled Logan along, screeching the chorus of Frozen 2′s most popular song. Of course it was the most popular. Idina Menzel wasn’t anything aside from perfection in her singing the entire time. Of course, Logan would ever admit that he liked the song, but that was just because he knew it was just fuel to Remus and Roman’s relentless teasing. 

Janus was... uncharacteristically quiet during this time, Logan had begun to notice. Normally, he wasn’t a very talkative person, but he’d seemed especially quiet tonight. Perhaps he was tired? The more Logan wondered, the less he paid attention to where he wandered. This lead to multiple complications. 

For one, he stepped in a very large, and rather obvious mud puddle that, no doubt, would endlessly stain his pants. It was almost worthy of many, many tears-- the thought of having to both throw away his favorite jeans and come up with an excuse as to why he did not have them anymore. However, hearing Janus and Remus’s laughter reminded him where he was, and why he was here. 

Ultimately, it made staining his pants more bearable. Besides, he might be able to save them. Or, at least, Janus might. Logan’s “extensive” knowledge in the laundry department was actually basic at best. Tide. Button. Clothes. Wash. Repeat. That was about it, really. He only knew how to iron the collars of his polos, and his occasional tie. Outside of those basic things, there was nothing he could do, really. 

It seemed as though Janus had been reading Logan’s mind though, because as the former chuckled, he reached out and offered Logan a hand. Once Logan took it, he saw Janus wink. 

“We can swap pants before you go home, and I can have them clean in a couple days, love. How does that sound, hm?” He chuckled once more at the completely smitten look that overcame Logan’s face, albeit without the man’s knowledge.  

“Thank you. Although, you do not have--”

Janus hushed him placing a finger softly over the nerd’s lips. Logan noting the warmth contrasting the cold, and the way Janus’s ungloved finger brushed his nose ever so gently. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Laundry is nothing for me to cry or whine about, especially when I get to do some for such a wonderfully handsome fellow.”

Logan just nodded, unable to come up with a better response-- something he’d been trying to be okay with more and more often. Before he’d met Janus, behavior like this would have practically been forbidden, and he would have surely responded with something among the lines of ‘yes sir’  had this conversation taken place a few months ago. However, he’d been trying to outgrow those unneeded responses, and it seems he’d been doing well, based off how many times Remus and Janus had’t scolded him for saying such things. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time they had. 

The second incident was not nearly as saddening for Logan. Instead, it was more or less concerning for Janus and Remus. 

See, neither Janus, nor Remus, had been having particularly ‘good’ weeks. Of course, incident wise, they were doing splendidly. However, looking back, they would much rather have had more frequent, less consequential incidents, than the few more consequential incidents.

Remus hadn’t liked spending a night in jail, only for Roman and Janus to pool together enough money to get him out. Sure, he’d been in jail before for a number of different things. Never for getting into a fight, though. He’d never stuck around long enough to meet the cops before. Thankfully, to everyone else it was deemed an ‘isolated incident’. Even if it was far from true, Remus was surprisingly happy to hear that there wouldn’t be charges pressed, and that there wouldn’t be a court case. God knows he couldn’t afford one of those. And of course his bullshit parents wouldn’t pay for it either. He wasn’t Roman. He didn’t get that kind of treatment from them. 

Janus hadn’t liked his father smashing three bottles over his head intermittently. He didn’t care for the screaming, the please from his dad, the ultimately useless sobs. He didn’t like the CPS letter that was proudly displayed on the fridge that had come from the state, telling his entire family that his father was there to stay, and permanently. He didn’t like that there was no in between and no constant in this stupid household, nor did he like spending half of his college fund on Remus’s bail-- even if he would have spent all of it to get him out of there any day Remus asked. 

Neither of them liked the sit down their teachers had had with them, telling them that they would be separated in class until their grades got higher. They especially hated the way only one teacher listened when they said that separating them would only hinder them. 

Needless to say, everyone needed this night. Everyone was tired, and no one wanted to say it. 

That being said, Remus and Janus had no idea of Logan’s stress, and Logan only knew a fraction of their lives outside of school. Let alone anything that had happened that week. It was... a mess at the very least. 

So when Logan spaced out and walked right into a huge puddle... needles to say Janus and Remus were confused. Also concerned. Very concerned. 

“So Logan..” Remus has said, “any thoughts on where we’re going? I know it’s a surprise but~~” He turned, smiling, until he wasn’t anymore. Logan looked... lost, really. Whether he was lost in thought or in general, Remus really couldn’t tell. 

“Uhm, Logan?” Remus stopped walking. “You good over there? You look kinda pale~ And that’s coming from someone who knows Virgil Strengthson.” No response. Logan didn’t even look at Remus as he passed him. It didn’t look like he was really looking at anything, actually. It was as if he could see just fine, but none of it was reaching hs brain, so he was just left looking, wildly. Blindly. 

“Logan?” Janus piped up, stopping as well. “Logan, are you mad at us or something?”

No reply. Their concern grew. Repeat. 

That was, until Remus just yelled. “LOGIE YOU ASHOLEEE~~~ ANSWER US~~” Then, of course, Logan was snapped from whatever trance he’d found himself in, apparently not having heard literally anything they’d said previously. 

“Apologies, what were we talking about?”

Well, they really had no way to answer that, huh?

“Dude, we’ve literally been trying to get your attention for forever. You good?”

Logan seemed to pale at that. Of course, he was doing objectively fine. However, on the terms of his stress he may not be able to truthfully say the same. He also happened to be very bad at lying to these individuals when it came down to it. Still, if he told the objective truth, he should do just fine. 

“Yes, apologies. I was just, ahm, figuratively lost in my thoughts.” Logan offered the most reassuring smile he could, knowing they would see right through it. 

They did, of course, see right through it. However they both figured it was something they could bring back later and talk about at a better time. Trying to talk about it before they got to their destination seemed like a poor choice anyway. 

And so they moved on. It was quiet, but it was comfortable. Remus was quick to fill that silence, though, by talking about his newfound fascination with thick lemon toast. 

At least, until they got to the clearing. 

Logan had just begun to worry about how long they’d been in the woods. They did have to find their way back to Remus’s truck, after all. 

Plus, they’d had no real concept of the time it’d taken so far to hike through the woods, but all the concern surrounding the situation had immediately fallen out of Logan’s interest. 

Never before had Logan see so much and so little in front of him before. Sure, he’d seen pictures of fields, but he had never been to one. Never before had he stood before one of this size, either. It had to be, what, two football fields?

“Is this where you’re taking me?” Logan asked, trying to mask his delightedly breathless tone. 

“It is, actually!” Remus grinned wickedly, grabbing Janus and Logan my their hands as he pulled them, racing towards the middle of the field as fast as he could. 

Logan did his best to hold onto his glasses, while Janus did his best to hang on to his hat. Neither were good at running, but Logan was especially bad at it. He could keep up, but his lungs wouldn’t like it. They already didn’t have enough air as it was, being amazed and all. Not to mention the fact that he’d already done his running for the night.

Time passed by quickly, though, and soon he and Janus were hunched over, breathless, as Remus started laying a large quilt out for the three of them. 

As soon as it was out, Janus collapsed on to it, weakly pulling out his emergency inhaler. Logan didn’t know Janus used an inhaler. Did Remus? Surely he wouldn’t have forced Janus to sprint that far if he had. Logan knew Remus, and while he was... eccentric, at times, he knew Remus to be no monster. 

Still, Logan wondered. Remus and Janus were close enough. Perhaps it just slipped his mind? Logan let the thought slip his own mind as he too, layed down comfortably on the quilt. 

“Coffee?” Remus asked, holding a rather large thermos. Logan groaned, nodding vigorously. 

“And I’ve got Coffee for Janie.” he giggled as Janus gave him a small little thumbs up. “Sorry for the running, by the way. I forgot that y’all can’t really do much of that.”

Logan frowned from where he was on the ground, in pain. “I can run just fine, thank you very much. It just happens to hate me almost as much as I despise it.”

This earned a giggle from his datemates. 

It was then when Remus decided to also lay down, wrapping his arms around Janus and Logan, and forcing them close so they could all snuggle. 

Moments like these were the ones Logan believed he enjoyed the most. They were the little things, of course, but they were the things that really brought them together, he thought. The feeling of warmth, the almost rushed breathing, and the familiarity of it all every time after. It was laying there, in each others company, not in a rush to say or do anything. And it was beautiful, in Logan’s mind. 

He was sure the others would agree. He went to ask them, actually, but that was when he opened his eyes, adn saw they sky. 

“What--” Logan choked a hand flying up to his mouth as he struggled to find his breath, and his words. 

His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and never before, had he seen so much night sky before. Not in person, anyways. Sure, you could look in awe at pictures off the internet, but it was never as real as going and seeing it yourself. It was nothing like this. 

Faintly, every so faintly, Logan could see the different nebulae, sprinkled across the vast sky before him. He could see the universe, and how so much of it existed-- right here, in front of him!

Growing up in a city, for Logan, meant he couldn’t see things like this. He had never, in fact, seen this many stars before in his life. Always had he been told about them--been told he could be among them someday, but he’d never thought it’d really happen. Light pollution was everywhere and...

“The milky way is beautiful.” Logan whispered. 

Remus hugged Logan tighter, as if trying to pull him closer if he could.

 “We thought you might like it.” Janus spoke up, taking Logan’s hand in his own. It wasn’t too often Logan saw Janus without his gloves. The heat from Janus’s hands brought with it a comfort Logan hadn’t even known he needed. 

“Stumbled upon this place a few weeks ago while trying to find a place to have a quick fuck.” Remus chuckled when Logan squirmed ever so slightly, smiling that softer, mushier smile that he saved just for these two. “And we totally made a promise to bring you here ASAP.” He remarked, softer this time. 

“So what do you think, hm? Did we do a good job?” Janus spoke up, laying his head on Remus’s chest so he could see Logan too. 

In all honesty, Logan could only say yes. Only, he couldn’t. His throat felt sore, and he could tell he was going to cry, It’s just-- he felt. It wasn’t something he’d feel often, but he knew it, that familiar swell in his chest. It sent small tingles down his spine, and forced open the floodgates that kept his emotions at bay. 

Or, in short, Logan was malfunctioning. Short circuiting, if you will. 

“I-- I don’t know what to say.” He smiled, widley, the way he always did with these two, “thank you.” Was what he decided on. he hugged Remus and Janus close in his moment of emotional vulnerability. He wasn’t Patton. He refused to believe that such trivial things would cause him to cry. 

Then again, being as love-starved as Logan had been... you couldn’t say it was surprising. 

Eventually, things died back down, and became a lot more casual. It was less like a professional ‘date’, and more like any other time they’d decided to spend time together. Logan went on about astronomy and astrology, infodumping and and all knowledge he had on the topic of space, and the others listened. Remus would add some things here and there, but he was quiet over all. They wanted to take everything Logan said, and absorb it. They wanted to have real conversations with him about his interests-- Remus especially. Logan always contributed to his aquatic infodumps, so it was the least Remus could do. 

Besides, there was always this.. life to Logan when he talked about space, and the stars especially. The way his eyes would light up-- as if he’d been told he could live among the stars themselves. His hands would gesture wildly, adding to the conversation where it would. Whether it be by pointing out constellations, or just waving around in general, his hands were always just as excited as he was, instead of lying lifelessly at his sides the way they normally would. 

There was a smile, too. A special smile that always came with Logan’s fascinations. Some would say that’s why his eyes would light up so. Janus saw it differently, though. He’d known Logan before Logan even knew himself, and he knew how differently his eyes and mouth told stories. 

To put it simply, when Logan talked about the stars in their own universe, the corners of Logan’s lips were never downturned. It was a smile he couldn’t hide if he tried-- one that wouldn’t disappear even if he made an error, or forgot where he was going because he was so excited. It was a different side of Logan, truly. Remus and Janus felt privileged to see it. 

But eventually, Logan was sure Janus and Remus were no longer interested in his ramblings. He’d eeb over the majority of his knowledge, and in all honesty, we just wanted to see. So he laid down, and stargazed. 

However, it grew too quiet for his excitement, and for a moment he wondered if this was how Remus felt all the time. Nevertheless, Logan tried to think of something to say. 

“What’s your most precious memory?” He finally asked, much more hushed than he’d intended. How could he be louder, though, when there’s so much to be humbled by before him?

There was a pause, and Logan wondered if either of his datemates had heard him. When he opened his mouth to repeat the question, though, Remus answered. 

“…..Honestly? That time when we sat in that shitty little car park late at night, eating those disgusting chips from the petrol station with the broken sign.” There was that smile again, worn by Remus, who was secretly just as much of a romantic as his brother. Even though he would swear to hell and back that he was definitely not, they all knew he definitely was and that he could never honestly deny such a thing. 

““…..Seriously?” Janus huffed out a small laugh. 

“Why?” Logan followed up. 

There was a pause, and Remus’s smile faded, just ever so slightly. “Because that was the first time I ever saw you smile for real.” He lightly shrugged, “It was something I didn’t know I’d ever get to see, Nerdy Wolverine. You like to keep things all boxed up over there, even with the people who genuinely give a shit about you.” 

Logan squeezed Remus a little tighter. “That’s... fair.” He finally said. “And very sweet of you.” He teased, just a little. Just a tidge. A lil smidgen. A tiny pinch.

There was another break of silence, before Janus spoke up. “I think tonight may be my most precious memory. For a long time, at the very least.” He smiled, sighing contently, “It really is a beautiful night tonight.”

Logan had just recently started dating Remus and Janus. Since establishing their relationship, they had talked through boundaries and interests. What he was thinking about now, though, was how he had yet to even as much as kiss either of them. 

Needless to say, he wanted to change that. 

“If I may,” Logan sat up, and was relieved when Remus and Janus sat up as well, hanging on his every word, as per usual. “I would like to kiss you.” He bit his lip, extremely nervous, “Both of you.” He quickly clarified, realizing he’d just been staring awkwardly at Remus. 

Janus smiled at that, gesturing for Logan to come closer. 

“So are we not going to talk about the fact that he could totally mean he wasn't to try kissing us both at the same time or--” Remus broke off into a fit of giggles when his mouth was covered by Janus’s hand. 

Logan blushed furiously, holding onto all hope that Janus couldn’t tell. Of course, Janus could absolutely tell, but he didn’t mind. Blushy Logan was adorable, and very kissable. 

“I-- Uhm, I have to admit,” Logan started, his breathing picking up as he and Janus got closer, “I haven’t done this before.”

“No shit, LoLo.” Remus giggled. 

“That’s okay, Logan. I’ve got you, okay?” Janus offered a warm smile that gave Logan all the confidence he needed to close that extra distance. 

The first thing Logan noticed was the warmth, then the closeness, the breath, and the taste. It was different, that was for sure. He wondered if kissing Remus would be any different, and how. 

He tried to copied what Janus was doing, and caught on to the pattern quickly enough, and that was that, They were kissing. Nevermind the growing warmth both in Logan’s chest and stomach, he actually kissed someone. He’d never thought he’d want to do that, if he was being honest. Yet here he was, kind of enjoying himself. 

Then alas, breathing became a problem. Logan and Janus pulled apart, and Logan’s blushing problem had definitely not gotten better. Thankfully, Janus was almost matching, in a way. You could never really see Janus’s blush, but ever time Logan had, he’d appreciate the opportunity. That was no acception now. 

“I’m ngl that was extremely hot.” Remus looked between Janus and Logan, giggling when Janus flicked him off. “Now iTs mYyYy TuRnNN tHouGh!” He exclaimed happily, throwing his arms up excitedly, “Unless you’re putting the stop to this kissing business right now. Puttin the big ole’ foot down. Just tell me so.” Remus waited for Logan to respond as patiently as Remus could wait for one of the loves of his life, which could be a surprising amount of time. 

“No no, I still give you my willing-- uhm, enthusiastic consent.” Logan cleared his throat, “ I am just-- not very good at started these sort of endev--”

That was all Remus needed in order to pull Logan close, “One last check?” he pecked Logan on the nose, and the latter nodded. 

That was when Remus’s lips met his. Just like Remus, the kiss was distinctly different. Definitely not the same style Janus had. Not to mention how downright filthy the kiss became once Logan had picked up his style. It was new, all of it, but it was something Logan enjoyed-- something he could finally share with them. 

Again, though, the need for air would arise. When Remus and Logan pulled away, Logan smiled, chuckling as he readjusted his glasses. The feeling in his chest had grown, and he now realized what the feeling had been all along.

Love.

“That was...” Logan just chuckled again, “Adequate. A lot nicer than I expected, if I’m being honest.” 

Remus mocked offense. “Gasp. Did you think I was going to be a bad kisser?” He dramatically threw his hand to his forehead, “Oh, how horrible you must feel being so freaking wrong, I could never.”

Janus couldn’t help but laugh as Remus obviously mocked his brother. He was so accurate... it was almost sad. Funny, but sad. 

“I actually am referring to how I was beginning to think I was asexual.” Logan stated, choosing to look at the ground instead of Remus or Janus. “However, it is not something I believe I have my answer for now.” He smiled to himself as he fiddled lightly with a loose string from the quilt. 

“Logan is this you telling us that you’re horny right now?” Remus cackled, delighted when Janus and Logan both joined in on the laughter. 

“That is one way you could put it, yes.” He forced out, “But I don’t want to take things any farther tonight, I don’t think.” he winked at Remus, who just about died on the spot. 

And the night went on. They talked, probably kissed, maybe did more, did nothing, and talked about everything until the coffee and tea were gone, and Remus’s 4:30 am alarm went off. 

“Happy Monday!” He announced, earning a laugh from a deliriously sleep deprived Logan. 

Then, they went back to the truck. They laughed, joked, and talked about all the stupid shit teenagers talk about. And for a moment, for that night of their lives, the stress melted away. They forgot about all the strifes of life, and they just let themselves be. 

They were happy, if only for a night. A night, that would stay with them for a long, long time. 

End.

[kpopfanfictrash]

I just want to SCREAM that Paralian was SPECTACULAR. Finally finished in between some work trainings. The world is fabulous, the characterizations are great (I am LIVING for over dramatic seokjin and Yoongi as seawitch). Never thought I’d be so invested in a fic like this (pirate au isn’t me thing). Hats off to you for all of this. I will get to part 2 later today and to say I’m fucking excited would be an understatement. UGH I love this, I love you, thank you!!!!

Gahhhh THANK YOU, LOVE! I am so happy you decided to give Paralian a chance, even though it isn’t your usual genre 🥺 alsjfal and you read it in between trainings!! I hope the rest of your day/night goes well love, and that you enjoy the second part tonight! THIS IS SO SWEET, THANK YOU! :)))