#< changed the bar because it was swelling more than she expected lol

[molotovmetro]

My metal collection has been expanded

[castle-dominion]

6x5 time will tell

liveblog

Really can't see his face huh

Imagine if he was like a cartoon character & he was dead for like five seconds before looking up & his soul was standing there like "girl you're supposed to be dead" & then he drops & the soul finally floats back up.

sewer slide?

Lego a month already?

I mean I still ask my parents for permission bc I respect them & their judgement not bc I think I am less than them. she ALREADY signed the lease? "you're right honey & it was a mistake that I made at that age"

Mabe get beckett (who is basically alexis' future self) talk to alexis (beckett when she was a kid)

Didn't lanie love castle at first? "you sir have a gift for writing death" or smth? RC: A lot more lucrative, a lot less prison. Oh no a parole officer?

Oh I was WONDERING where ryan was.

Good. Call eachother a few times a month. Not super close but still sort of in contact.

RC: (to RYAN) Whatever crazy theory I could have come up with, this is better.

Meh only looks vaguely familiar. Reminds me of Diego in tua. Bible verses my beloved

Oh wait this guy IS that guy from the sketch My man has a grocery store scanner lol

Simon (john doe): Because. I’m from the future. RC: (low) This just became my favorite case.

Doyle? 2035, that is still over ten years from now.

SD: Ipso facto, QED I am not her killer. energy wars of 2031? don't you mean the helium wars? don't you remember my chemical romance's predictions about the killjoys in 2019? Also babe we HAVE other sources of energy, it's just that rich people don't want to lose their money on THEIR fuel sources.

Simon: I’m getting to that. Look – look. I’m a temporal anthropologist. What we do is travel back in time and we study culturally significant eras. Ancient Egypt, Middle Ages … man, I’ve been in Nazi Germany. I love how castle is into this

but he KNOWS NOW that it is 12:58 as a time, smth he didn't know in the psych ward. I love this man so much & I love how castle is so interested.

KB: For the sake of our future, please tell me you don’t believe that guy. RC: Oh, no. But you’ve got to admit, it’s a great story. KB: Really? KR: Ah, I thought it was kind of derivative. JE: Yeah, like a mash up of 12 Monkeys and Terminator. KR: nods. RC: Yeah, but it’s the way he told it. Total commitment. KB: Commitment that turned deadly. I mean, to maintain his delusion, Shauna had to die. He might not even know that he killed her. RC: Did you guys find out what this device was Doyle had on him? RC: holds up the scanner. KR: Yeah, tech says it’s just a bunch of junk thrown together. JE: What were you expecting, Castle? A time travel device? Dr. Who’s sonic screwdriver? He laughs. RC: You watch Dr. Who? JE’S laugh stops. KB’S phone beeps. GIRL LET HER WATCH DR WHO, IT WAS POPULAR AT THE TIME, ESP FOR WOMEN, SHE WAS PROBABLY A FANFICTION WRITER. WAIT THAT WAS NOT BECKETT, THAT WAS ESPOSITO. OK bro listen dr who is not a bad show, let him watch what he watches. at least it is not chiquitas or 2 cool for school.

Oh I forgot this was a lesbian episode lol

I don't think they would be allowed in this lesbian bar /j. Ooh new fanfiction idea: they let ryan in bc he looks like a butch lesbian.

Ah smart: We don’t have to. We had Veronica call him and tell him she’s been busted for solicitation. He thinks he’s coming in to bail her out. stock tips lol

What happened to the other psych for the cops?

When did he leave? do you have security footage? KR, sarcastically: and we’ll tell the DA what a swell guy you are.

Prison for years? that is a long long time.

always doing pushups always on alert lol.

His "mission" that would "change everything"

He could have been in a cult RC: unless he's the other time traveller Mom, watching me during my embarassing insane time: *laughing at castle making me decide to quote this*

Energy conference? energy wars? “destruction of the rightful kingdom of God by science and technology”. lmao insane

I don't understand that timeline castle tried to make

KB: Why don’t you guys go back in time All of them (laughing) KB: and see if you can dig up any of Ward’s known associates from six years ago.

Alexis hung up on him!!

Beckett is so smart & wise as an adult woman I won't clip this but wow alexis & her tiny hand

noooo he's already dead uwu crosswords

The child?

PHYSICIST? TIME TRAVEL! ENERGY SOURCES? BLACK HOLE? ALL THIS STUFF

Dr Wickfield, on video: Well, the work is very exciting. the work: *is math*

Esposito wearing nice outfit today.

Hastings is so right lol but also so wrong lol.

Nuts; Paranoid, things about the future, cleansing, this guy is kind of culty what bridges did he HAVE? Hastings: He said the electromagnetic field made it harder for the government to find him. I told you, the guy was crazy.

not giffing castle waving his hands at the energy plant lol outr vows

f u beckett.

Someone has been there beckett? probably a teen smoking pot.

effede up how cops can just walk around with all their guns out like that.

All those clocks on the walls?

Ok now I need to stop this bc my uncle is here & we are watching our stuff that we watch with him now & besides, it is time for me to stop.

I'm back! I only have a few hours before work but you know money is necessary to live!

Wow I missed what happened with that heck of a fight scene

Was my man actually tracking ward? Great sound it made lol

They just cuffed him here? What if ward comes back?

So wait she DOES become senator? Remember the s7 finale? Three kids including of excluding alexis? Don't tell them that much, that would mess up the timestream He writes serious literature? There is a t & also beckett even if he is delusional you need to be on his level.

RC: For your information, I wasn’t sharing details of the case. I was playing into his delusion to see what he knew. was he retroactively saying that?

Six years ago! Remember that?

Kid is not a high school student anymore SD: Hey, can I make a suggestion? (CASTLE nods like he’s listening) Ward. He was working off a photo of the letter. So perhaps the easier path is to ask, where’s the original? It’s bound to have the kid’s name and address. My man is actually smart

Ryan's nice tie Esposito's s1 outfit If I were her I'd be looking at date but then after that I'd look for browned letters

Dun dun dun not the child be des-chile See? university now

Doyle is soooo good. Everyone is watching him jump up & down in his cuffs with his videogame theory I just love it sm

Ooh planetarium, RC: The planetarium is all the way uptown. We’ll never get there in time. Send a patrol unit that is already in the area maybe?

Ooh this is beautiful, I love it. Oh no murder guy. Ward would just kill this kid in the middle of the observation? How did esposito get there so fast?

You ok honeybun?

My man is just not saying anything Love him Lol his creepy smile I love it. He looks like he really wants to say smth. Like he's... not nonverbal not semiverbal not selectively mute, what is the term? I have an autistic friend that sometimes has bouts of being unable to speak. Or theoretically able to speak but practically unable.

Ah PD: I’m the one who alerted security to Ward’s behavior at the energy conference six years ago. They stopped him because of me. KB: see? irl explanation RC: Yes. Now we know why Ward tried to bomb that conference. To kill Deschile. See, in the future when the famous Deschile were giving interviews he’d say that’s where it all started. Consequently Ward will know exactly where and when to find him. KB: You’re trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you? RC: Well, apparently I already do it - we end up with three kids. He wiggles his eyebrows. She bites her lip and tries not to roll her eyes. SD: Like to know their names? RC: yes KB: no

KB: What abt your psych eval? SD: Oh, please. Are you kidding me? I passed that with flying colors. You should have heard the crazy stuff coming out of my mouth. Growing up in Denver, middle class family. Man, I haven’t lied that much years. I love him soooo much

Never been in a psych ward? But from the future. lmao I love this one so much jfsldjdksklfj SD: Oh wow. I don’t have much time left. Um … (he shrugs) I'un'ow… see you in twenty years.

RC: (laughs) Is it just me or does that make sense? KR: No, it’s just you. (not clipping)

My boy just disappeared & the MUSIC lmao I LOVE THIS SM

She just ruined evidence lol dun dun dun SHE was the one to spill the coffee! & her thing is already dry?

So ig time travel is real?

Oh no I forgot alexis was moving out!

If she's making a huge mistake, then it is her mistake & it is important to make mistakes!

AC: Who are you always saying is the smart one in the family?

Big sad. rly good ep, also time travel

[seanfalco]

Hello! I’ve read your Klaus fics and I absolutely love them! I was thinking, do you think I could request Y/N being fed up with Klaus and this time she doesn’t take him back. She found herself a new lover that treats her right and who she loves very much?

Words: 1.4k a/n:  Decided to make this a sort of alternate non canon ending to Only When You’re Lonely.  Prepare to hurt.  Though is it fair of me to base reader’s new love interest off another Robert Sheehan character?  because it makes me feel better anyway.  Also catch me using parallels to current angst in Burning Out lol.

——

The day Klaus had waltzed back into your life with a coffee and some sweet words, you really thought you’d be able to stay just friends for once, but you soon found that keeping him at arm’s length was much harder than you’d ever anticipated.  Especially when he seemed hellbent on winning you back.

Of course, you knew what he was doing -- you knew Klaus better than anyone and it didn’t help that he was trying so damn hard.

Why couldn’t he try this hard all the time if he cares so much, a tiny voice in your head asked and as much as you hated to admit it, it had a point.

However, the harder he tried and the longer this went on, the more torn you felt.  Sean was a good guy -- one of the best you’d met in a long while and let’s face it, he didn’t come with the baggage that Klaus did.  

You loved Klaus, you knew you probably always would, but you didn’t know how many more times your heart could take him leaving, to not committing when you gave him everything and you knew Sean could see it, the hesitation in your gaze whenever Klaus was around and you knew it wasn’t fair to him.

For once you found a keeper and you were going to drive him away because you couldn’t get over your ex -- hell, you couldn’t even technically call Klaus that, seeing as you’d never actually officially dated.

It was the night Klaus showed up at your show and you saw him in the crowd with Sean that you knew something wasn’t right, and as you pushed your way to them at the bar, your stomach prickled anxiously.

Covering your unease with a bright smile you embraced Klaus, feeling him melt in your arms as if he never wanted to leave before you pulled away to brush a kiss to Sean’s cheek, fitting yourself to his side, his arm wrapped rather possessively around you and you wondered what they’d talked about while you’d been on stage.  The tense look on Sean’s face said it hasn’t been pleasant.

At his urging you bade Klaus goodnight and followed Sean out to his car outside.  “[y/n],’ he began in a quiet voice as he got behind the wheel and you flinched, preparing to get dumped.  Because who were you fooling?  You knew this moment had been coming sooner or later the moment you’d let Klaus back in.

“Why are you letting him do this to you?”

Wait, what?  Sean’s words took you aback and you blinked at him for a moment.  

“Do… what?” you asked, though he knew you knew what he meant.

“Klaus,” he answered, filling the name with scorn.  “Why are you letting him manipulate you?” he asked sadly, his eyes swinging to you, his lilting voice cracking.  “I care about you [y/n], hell, I think I might even love you, and it’s killing me to watch this.  Can’t you see he’s taking advantage of your feelings for him?  And what then?” he asked, taking a shuddering breath, “... leave you again when it gets too hard?  You deserve more than that.”

Love?  Had Sean just said he loved you?

A strange combination of elation and fear filled you.  As much as you hated it, you knew he was right.  How many times would Klaus enter your bed, your heart, your life, only to leave again without warning?  How many times would you let him?  You couldn’t keep doing this.

You didn’t want to keep wondering if the man you loved would still be there the next morning.  You wanted more and Sean was offering you that.

“Sean, I -- you’re right,” you said, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.  “I deserve more,” you murmured, “and you’ve been nothing but sweet, and supportive, and everything I’ve ever wanted, and I want to be with you,” you admitted, your eyes finding his.

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” you asked in a tiny voice and a small smile crossed his face, hesitant, but full of affection.

“I did,” he answered, reaching across the center console to take your hand in his, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin.  “You have to promise me, though,” he murmured, his smile faltering, “that I’m not just… a replacement.  Because I can’t… I won’t be that.  I don’t just want to be the next best thing.”

Wishing there was nothing between you at that moment, you reached across to him, caressing the side of his face, your heart giving a thrill as he leaned into your touch.

“I promise,” you insisted, your heart swelling and breaking all at once, “I love you for you.”

Sean’s dazzling smile widened and you found yourself smiling as well, despite the tears running down your cheeks. 

——

It was late the next afternoon when you woke, crawling out of Sean’s bed, despite his protests, telling him there was something you needed to take care of first.

With a shaky breath you dialed Klaus’s number, hoping he still had minutes on his phone.  It would’ve been easier to simply ghost him, in fact, that’s probably what he would’ve done to you, you thought bitterly, but before you could chicken out he’d answered the phone.

“[y/n]!” he answered brightly, as if he’d been expecting your call and your stomach knotted further.

“Hey, Klaus…” you replied, trying to keep your voice even.  “Uhm, can we meet somewhere?” you asked, scrubbing the heel of you palm against your eye to keep the tears from falling, unable to stop your sniffle.

“What--what’s wrong?” Klaus asked quickly.

Fuck.

“Uhm, I… I just need to talk to you.  Meet me at the square in a half hour?” you asked and he agreed before you quickly hung up, heaving a shaky breath and getting up to get dressed.

——

Waiting in the square for him, you took a drag off your cigarette, wishing you had a drink to take the edge off further.  

It wasn’t like Klaus was a bad guy, in fact, he was rather sweet, funny, smart -- he just had some flaws, and as much as you wanted him to be there for you, he couldn’t be and you couldn’t keep hurting yourself waiting for him to be.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

When you saw him approach, an uneasy expression on his face, you dropped the cigarette and crushed it out underfoot, scooting over so he could take the spot on the bench next to you.

“[y/n], what’s wrong?” he asked again, his eyes searching yours.

Rip it off like a bandaid.  Just get it over with.

“Klaus, I--”

“Did that bastard break up with you?” he asked before you could finish, getting fired up.  “That asshole, I knew he was no good for you!”

“No, Klaus, he didn’t break up with me,” you exclaimed and he blinked at you in surprise, kohl darkened eyes going wide.

“So… what are you saying?” he asked, his voice going quiet.

“I--I’m saying that I’m staying with him.  I really…” you paused, taking a deep breath.  “I think I love him, Klaus.”

“Oh,” was all he could say and the pain in his eyes was almost too much to look at.

“I know what you’ve been trying to do,” you said, pressing on, needing to get it out.  “And you will always be my closest and most trusted friend, Klaus.  Nothing could ever change that, but I want more than you can give.  I’m sorry.”

For a long moment neither of you spoke and you were afraid to look over at him, afraid it would break you.  But when Klaus slipped his hand in yours your head snapped up to find him smiling softly -- a sad bittersweet smile, but the way he squeezed your hand was reassuring.

“No, I--I get that,” he murmured, “and hey, I might not like the guy, but if he makes you happy…” Klaus trailed off, his grin slipping as his voice cracked, but he quickly bounced back, though you knew it was for your benefit. 

“Yeah, yeah, and you know me, I’ll be fine,” he replied, though you were doubtful.  “Besides, we… we’ll always be thick as thieves, you and I.  Like you said, nothing’ll ever change that, we’ll just be having less sex.”

“Klaus…” you murmured and he shook his head slightly, standing, your hand slipping from his.  

“Don’t wanna keep him waiting,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “I’ll see ya around, [y/n].”

As you watched him walk away, though your heart was hurting, a sense of relief filled you and you pulled out your phone, texting Sean that you’d be home soon.

------------------

Tag List: @imagine-you-are @magic-multicolored-miracle @etherealsxnder @thehrgreeves @iamsexytrash @unlistedpond

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

animaniacs - s4e8: mindy in wonderland

episode summary: a lighthearted episode about mindy chasing a rabbit down a hole in the tree she’s always tied to, and ending up in a magical, literary dreamland. there’s no mice, but it’s fun, and takes up the whole runtime, and-- what? no, i-- look, it’s just-- i don’t--

sir, you don’t pay me at all--

alright fine ugh ughghghguhgughgu ugh.

great.

episode summary: the hip hippos are expecting a baby! unfortunately, ordering babies off the internet instead of concieving them through, like, hippo sex? appears to have its’ downsides, and instead they are presented with.... brain.

look, i don’t know either, okay? i’m dragging my hands down my face as we speak.

the rundown:

we open with the stork.

“i got a very special delivery! the rockefellers have been waiting weeks for this one.” he pronounces it “spatial”, probably because he’s high out of his mind. this is not a sober bird. please don’t drop that baby, my dude. that’s going to cause more problems than it solves, really.

spoke too soon, i guess.

unfortunately for him, our dude does exactly that, and ends up taking a bit of a tumble. gets all dizzy. this does not bode well for the plot. or the wellbeing of the baby, actually!

hold up. computer, zoom, enhance.

hmmm. that is a very familiar tiny face. troubling. anyway our resident avian expert on drugs seems to have survived his accident, and drops the baby off to the rockefellers with no further trouble.

they seem to look more. hippo shaped than usual.

“congratulations! you’re new parents!”

you’re welcome, weird stoner bird. they slam the door on him, wordlessly exacerbating his injuries. they care not for his plight, only that of their dearest, darling... not very.... hippo sized...................... baby.

hm.

“oh flavio! darling! a baby of our own, just look at him! let us call him--”

“--alfredo!”

“goo.”

alright. as existentially horrifying as this episode is, i laughed. maurice lemarche, completely dead in the face, sits in the recording booth, stretches his shoulders. “goo.” he says. deadpan. no intonation whatsoever. the audience cheers and he is given a thousand dollars.

i don’t know what it is about brain saying basically anything that appeals to my sense of humour so much. jockey for position basically did me in. i just. every time he says “goo.” i am in TEARS.

the hippos seem to have lost their enthusiasm, as anyone would have if they heard the voice of a grown man come out of their newborn baby.

“he’s... small. very small.”

“goo.”

still, marita sympathises with him. this is very definitely her child, after all! she steals him away to do mom things with, chastising flavio that ‘alfredo’ is “their little boy.”

“oh, you are right, my lightbulb of love. now our little universe has expanded to three.”

yeah, don’t include your.... shoulder... birds, then. asshole.

it’s very cute, i’ll say that. for all the fuss i make about the hippos, they do love each other, in a very healthy way that you don’t often see with married couples on tv. like, they’re kind of slowdancing their way out of the room. it’s nice! they would make good parents.

(”goo.” says brain, in the background, oblivious to the heterosexuality happening around him. “now, take me to my money.”)

credit to flavio and marita; they are very well prepared. this is a very loved baby. i’m not entirely sure how any child would feel about the presence of Clown Bear, but it’s the thought that counts. also i know that’s a changing table? but the design is sick and i wouldn’t mind a chest of drawers like that.

there’s also a theatre, i guess. or..... maybe just a really fancy shower???

Definitely Alfredo is gently placed on his little Alfredo Table. he appears to be asleep, or at least he’s deliberately choosing to keep his eyes closed. can’t think why.

but he, ah. sure went all out for this one. i respect brain for his dedication to the craft.

“now, sweet baby alfredo,” says marita, while the music does a terrifying swell in the background, for some reason, “it is time for your first bath.”

please stop looking at me like that, marita. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO BATHING. am i about to be inducted into the alfredo cult?? i am, admittedly, a manlet, but i would like to think i am also unmistakably larger than a baby hippo.

(google has no data about the height of a baby hippo, apparently. they do weigh about 100lbs at birth, though, so i guess i have to be careful with this losing weight shtick. not that i’m ever gonna weigh 100lbs, quite frankly, but the minute i do marita’s gonna climb through my window and steal me off to los angeles.)

(i’m terrified.) (on the other hand, they’re definitely going to give me back as soon as they work out how much my medication costs over there.)

i’m literally babbling nonsense, at this point. anyway. brain gets a bath.

remember to Wosh U Mouse. wash he teeth and soul. marita proclaims excitedly that “babies love the bath”, and Definitely Alfredo is Definitely Enjoying Himself, judging by the screaming, so, yknow, good for him.

and then, i guess, flavio just pours boiling water on him for no reason, so brain freaks out and launches himself into the light fitting.

because wouldn’t anybody?

the hippos freak out a bit when the lights stop working, but soon get brain back down to resume their usual Alfredo Activities.

“this is highly undignified.”

but still, marita loves him.

and then she stabs him in the dick, i guess.

“GAH.”

“oops ):”

fortunately, nobody ever died of getting stabbed in the dick (as far as i know?) but even magical babies delivered by amazon need to get their vitals checked, so flavita take him to the hospital anyway.

bomf.

i’ll be dead honest with you, this scene is just torture porn. i’ll summarise it as best i can.

temperature is fine. blood pressure is normal. i am pretty sure inflating babies is not standard medical practice, but brain is cosmically unable to have a good day or he dies, i guess.

the doctor shows up.

“oh, but you’re a cutie. say aaaah.”

“if you think that you’re going to stick that thing in my--”

it’s not very comfortable.

“hmm. rather puny.”

“you have to feed him more.”

NOW LET’S TEST YOUR REFLEXES

i’m pretty sure this man has never been to medical school.

“and now to vaccinate. my, that’s a lot of zeros.”

my, that’s a... screenshot that lives on my laptop now, i guess. hopefully nobody i know ever has to borrow this thing, for whatever reason.

“i’ll see you in three months for a booster shot,” says dr acme, as brain swells and changes colours in a way that no baby ever should.

i feel like this is a good time to interject - my issue with this episode is not the core themes, or anything surrounding them. it’s the amount of unrestrained suffering that goes on within that. like. okay. if this was some kind of consensual dynamic between the three of them for-- whatever reason???? stress?????? - like i wouldn’t mind. i wouldn’t care. consenting adults can do whatever they want with their bodies. this is a positive space. no judgement here on pinkys fault or brains fault dot com.

but it’s not and brain spends most of the episode in pain and terrified and that’s really what i object to above all else. it’s the same problem i have with peatb, really. brain can wear as many cute dresses as he wants, but he’s gotta want to wear them.

but they’re back at the Hippo Digs now so. it’s fine, i guess.

“such a good boy. that trip to the doctor wasn’t so bad, was it?”

hm.

still, it appears i can never escape Terrifying News Lady, even in this hellscape. flavio does the classic dad thing of sitting down with the tv as soon as he’s home, leaving marita to deal with getting Definitely Alfredo settled in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby chair.

what are those straps connected to, anyway??? it’s not the chair, that’s for sure. is brain just wearing a harness for the hell of it? what on earth is going on?

but flavio! it’s time to feed the baby!

“is baby-waby hungry-wungry?” well are you, cranky big head mousie??? huh????

sorry for the paralysing fear that probably caused all of you. undeterred, the terrifying news lady continues to talk in the background about the “richest and most influential child in the world.”

oh no.

oh no.

flavio vaguely wonders if they waited too long to feed their baby, as he has what could be possibly classified as a tantrum.

“you sophomoric, corpulent, pachycerebal aristrocrats! you are imposters and i demand to be taken to the rockefellers immediately!”

the birds don’t care. they’re chilling. marita attributes this to “baby gibberish” while flavio wonders about the “vocabulary he learnt from mr rogers”. he’s maybe a few hours old, at this point, a day tops, but i guess hippos learn latin in pre-k or something.

anyway so then they stick a tube down his throat and inflate him with guacamole.

and with that, “alfredo looks healthier already!”

this is the second time brain has been inflated in this episode. it is unsurprising that he dedicates his nights from this point to raising absolute hell.

but he needs pats first because he ate too much. :<

cut to that night, i guess! where brain is very convincingly crying. very loudly. the hippos look unimpressed, despite the fact that this is literally the most common factor of signing up for a baby.

“it’s the baby. you take care of him.”

well. alright.

air mouse. nyoom. he seems to catapult himself at something, like, once per episode. it’s on par with the closeups by now, surely.

bomp.

unfortunately, the bear is not weightbearing (bear ing. lol) and falls off the shelf on an epic quest for a Great Big Hug.

the resulting bomp alerts the hippos, who go fully, entirely haywire the moment they work out that Definitely Alfredo is not in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby bed.

turns out flavio sat on him.

“really, flavio, be more careful where you sit.”

so they put a padlock on his crib.

this is completely useless. i know this. brain knows this. he’s small enough to just... fit through the bars. but he decides to be dramatic, instead, because that’s what he does best.

“attica! attica! i want out! let me out!”

i am not old enough to get this reference.

i am, however, old enough to empathise with this exact emotion. i feel kind of bad for the hippos, actually. i’m sure they were doing what they thought was... right? in the context of... thinking they had a baby hippo rather than an adult mouse. easy mistake to make. i go check on my weirdly tiny hippos in their hippo cage all the time.

but who could be at the door?

“there seems to have been a mix up. uh. i have your baby right here.”

and guys?

i need to tell you how fast they just throw brain at the guy. it’s actually a little heartbreaking.

but! it’s okay! he still has time to make it to the rockefellers before they......... die. i guess.

man, this plan was not thought out very well.

conclusion:

thank god this is almost over.

the stork repackages the baby, who is now a good few hours old, at least, and delivers the bundle to the very, very different looking house.

they are not any nicer.

“oh, reggie. just look at him.”

“goo.”

“well, frau haussenheffer, we’re off on a cruise. goodbye baby. see you in a year.”

parenting!

“alright then. staff, we have a brand new charge.”

oh dear.

brain, as one can imagine, is having none of this.

but unfortunately, neither is the carpet.

bomp. cause of death: suffocating in the rockefeller mansion carpet.

good thing it all sort of blurs out, huh.

“brain?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain, wake up.”

“i was dreaming?”

oh, thank god for that.

“oh, pinky, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare i had.” and it’s... probably best not to tell him, actually.

“it must have been a doozy, brain! but, oh, a delivery came for you.”

“it’s the rockefeller baby. can we keep it?”

oh dear.

so let’s ignore the fact that this asks more questions than it answers-- but okay, was that a dream within a dream, and why was brain dreaming about that in the first place, and-- and mark this one down as a severe case of outside influence.

brain: 3 ½ pinky: 5 ½ outside influence: 10

“it’s not too late. i demand that you deliver me to the rockefellers immediately!”

“

“aw, how cute. i just love baby gibberish.”

[turtlepated]

Pate I'm drunk I want PateDew HCs pleeeeease

@pastelnacht

Oh are you now? Lol, well I will do my best to provide! 

Let's see... PateDew is pretty open-ended so hows about I hit you with the half-formed vaguely self-insert WIP that’s been sitting in my Google Docs for weeks now: 

----

You’d been stressed out at work lately, stressed enough that two days simply wasn’t enough time to fully decompress. So when a couple of your coworkers invited you out for drinks after work, you decided to tag along. Why not? 

The Roadhouse bar was a bit more… rustic than you’d expected for a bunch of office workers like yourselves, but it seemed like the perfect place to lose yourself and unwind for an evening. It was loud, both from the rowdy patrons and the jukebox in the corner, smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and cheap booze and greasy food. Not somewhere you’d ordinarily venture on your own, but it was a nice enough distraction. 

After a couple beers you had a pleasant buzz going. Somebody at the jukebox set Don’t Stop Believin’ to playing and a cheer went up. Grinning widely you swayed back and forth in time to the piano overture and belted along to the first verse about the “lonely girl livin’ in a lonely world”, emboldened by the alcohol and the giggling of your colleagues. 

You spun around, startled, when another voice chimed in just as loudly behind you, picking it up with the “city boy, born and raised in south Detroit”, meeting a pair of brown eyes barely discernible under a mop of messy brown curls. 

And that was how you first met Dewey Finn, both of you belting along to the Journey favorite while other patrons booed and shushed you, pelting you with peanut shells while you both just laughed. 

It didn’t take long to learn pretty much all there was to know about Dewey Finn: he was easy going, funny and energetic and sweet, practically lived at the Roadhouse, and he loved rock music more than anything else. Even when sitting down he was always tapping his foot or thumping his hand against his knee, keeping rhythm with the song playing in his head. 

The two of you were fast friends and the Roadhouse became a regular watering hole for you. Dewey was fun and fascinating, so passionate about whatever topic happened to be under discussion that you couldn’t help getting excited right along with him. 

You bonded quickest over your overlapping tastes in music. While Dewey considered himself more of a purist (classic rock being the pinnacle of human achievement as far as he was concerned), few things seemed to thrill him more than sharing his music with you. The two of you sat across from one another in “your” booth at the Roadhouse, tipsy and giggly, having swapped phones to compare playlists. As expected, Dewey’s phone was full to bursting with AC/DC, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Van Halen, Guns n Roses, Rolling Stones. 

“Oh my God,” he laughed, turning your phone around to show you the screen. “Are you serious?” You flushed, embarrassed, covering your face with one hand. 

“Okay, look,” you began. “I didn’t get to have a Britney phase when I was a kid because I didn’t have any money to buy albums! And by the time I did Britney was considered cringey and I was too young to know that there’s no such thing as cringe! So I have to have my Britney phase now!” 

Your rebuttal only made Dewey laugh harder, his cheeks rosy and his eyes glittering both from the mirth and the drinks. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, I’m only messin’ with you! Though I’m impressed that you had like a whole defense just ready to go!” He turned his head, glancing around conspiratorially before leaning towards you over the tabletop, crooking a finger at you invitingly. Giggling, you folded your arms and leaned in on your elbows. 

“Not like Britney needs a defense,” he admitted, grinning, rapping the flat of his palm on the table between you to keep the beat as he started singing. “My loneliness is killin’ me!”

Without missing a step you chimed right in, “And I, I must confess, I still believe!” By the time you got to “Hit me, baby, one more time!” you were both almost incoherent from a fit of laughter, ignoring the vocal annoyance of the other regulars seated around you. 

Looking back, you considered that to be the moment you fell in love with Dewey Finn. 

If you were honest with yourself, that moment was probably when the two of you first sang along with Steve Perry, but you couldn’t help feeling a little silly and even cliched. The whole “love at first sight” schtick. 

In an ideal world, you could simply pluck up your courage and come right out and tell him how you felt. In an ideal world, he would tell you he felt the same way. The two of you might even exchange a tender kiss, if the romance in movies was anything to go on. 

But the world was not ideal. 

He did eventually tell you about the bizarre circumstances that led to his current job, which he so clearly loved and talked about constantly. Hearing the whole surreal tale, from start to finish, was a rollercoaster of subterfuge and deceit, plus a dash of identity theft and sprinkled with heartfelt personal growth. You joked with him that he ought to sell the story to a producer, get a movie deal. Jack Black would make a very believable Dewey Finn, you said, and he snorted into his drink. 

So many unexpected things had come about for him as a result of his improbable plan; not just a job but a career, one that he was passionate about, that excited him every day! Reveling in the talent of his students, their eagerness to learn and explore, seeing them progress and get better and better… It was a feeling that he’d only ever experienced before when playing a show, but now he got to feel it almost every day! In his wildest dreams, he’d never have even thought of where he was now in order to have wished for it. If the kids, his amazing, talented, face-shredding students had come as a shock, then their uptight, pencil-skirted, no-nonsense, secret rocker principal had thrown him for the biggest loop. 

It wasn’t until after the two of you had been friends for awhile (and after Dewey had thrown back a couple shots of tequila on top of his two and a half pints of beer) that he told you about Rosalie Mullins beyond “she’s my boss. Sort of.” 

Even Dewey was willing to concede that he took her out for drinks initially as a ploy to get her to agree to let him take his “class” to the band competition. The kiss that followed their conversation at the Roadhouse had been impulsive on his part, he hadn’t even thought about it at the time, there had been more pressing matters on his mind. In the aftermath of his unmasking; between the threats of arrest and homelessness, his adolescent band rallying his spirits and delivering a powerhouse performance; so many highs and lows in such a short expanse of time, it wasn’t until Rosalie Mullins grabbed his face afterwards and kissed him that it even dawned on him that there might be something to it. 

They’d gone out after things returned to normal, but after a few months of on-again-off-again they decided they were better as friends, as colleagues. Or rather, Dewey admitted a tad bitterly after finishing a third pint and another shot of tequila, Rose had decided they weren’t a good fit romantically and didn’t want to jeopardize their working relationship. 

“I really liked her, though,” he said with a sigh, slumping in the bench seat across from you and toying with the empty shot glass. “Smart, classy, beautiful.” You sat with your arms folded on the tabletop, trying not to let it show that each word struck you like a knife in the heart, wanting to be supportive in the midst of his disappointment because that’s what friends did for one another. Regardless of what you were feeling, it was clear he was still carrying a torch for the principal and when he showed you pictures he had kept on his phone you could see why. 

She truly was very pretty, very put -together, as stark a contrast as she could be in her perfectly tailored blazers and skirts to you in your jeans and T-shirts. You couldn’t help but feel ridiculous and petty, jealous of a woman you didn’t know, had never even spoken to just because the man you loved was still hung up on her. 

It didn’t matter anyway, because whatever your feelings may be, Dewey obviously didn’t feel the same about you, not when his heart was still set on Miss Mullins. 

You put it out of your mind, willfully ignoring it because at least you could still be his friend. No matter how heartsick it made you when his laugh or his smile made your heart swell and you wanted so much to kiss him but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t do that, it would ruin everything. 

As the weeks passed it got… maybe not easier to bear, but you grew used to the gnawing ache inside and you learned to ignore it. You barely even noticed it anymore. Things began to change when Dewey left you a very boisterous and excited voicemail, telling you to meet him at the Roadhouse after work because he had “huge, unbelievable, amazing news!” You had no idea what he could be talking about but whatever it was he met you at the door, practically bouncing like a puppy. 

In between corralling him into a booth and placing your drink orders with the waitress, you finally got him to calm down enough to tell you what he had to say. 

“Every year the country club crowd throws this big charity fundraiser for the city, and since a lot of em are Horace Green parents or alums, this year the school is hosting the charity and School of Rock is lined up to play the whole event! Isn’t that awesome?!” 

You beamed at him, his elation contagious. In the year since their formation and debut, Horace Green’s official student band (led by their music coach, Dewey Finn) had garnered a fair bit of publicity with their electrifying performance at the battle of the bands competition. Despite losing the contest, they had been the unequivocal crowd favorite and the school had enjoyed some very positive press in the midst of their growing popularity. 

But a gig like this would elevate the band to a whole new level, Dewey animatedly explained. You couldn’t help getting swept up in his mounting excitement, almost giddy to see him so wholeheartedly invested in the project. Naturally, you offered to be of whatever help you could to help him pull off such an important show. The band deserved it, and so did he. And if it meant you’d be seeing a whole lot more of Mr. Finn in the coming weeks, well… that would just be a bonus. 

[artificialqueens]

Sensory Overload (Branjie) - SnowBun

A/N: Well… this took about a week to write, and a lot of feigning ignorance about finals. But, WHO CARES? This was so draining to write, but it was tons of fun to do. Hope you guys enjoy! xoxo

His eyes glaze over as he drinks in the faded orange of the Los Angeles skyline. He feels the warm summer air against the bare skin of his arms, and even if he never really left, everything somehow looks different. It looks so much bigger, so much more free than he remembers.

He doesn’t remember much from the first two days home from the show. All he can recall is that he’d curled up and cried about not making it to the finale the first night, and that he’d slept the whole day for the second.

By the third, he’s awake enough to realize that the exhaustion has seeped into his muscles. He can still feel his back aching from every comment Michelle threw at her, every attempt to do better only to fall flat on her face weighing it down for weeks.

For now, no one knows, and she returns to being the gay community’s favorite meme.

He doubts he’ll be able to shake off the memories clinging to his clothes like the smoke of menthol cigarettes, however long it’s been since filming ended.

Menthol cigarettes.

He remembers the way her lips, painted a bright shade of pink like the filling of Pop Tarts that she used to eat as a kid, wrap around the end of what she’d once jokingly called ‘a white death stick.’ Brooke had laughed and confided that she’d tried to quit many times before.

In the heat of the competition, he knew better than to push the topic.

Looking across the horizon again, he remembers how the same orange hue would paint the gravel of parking lots on smoke breaks. It brings him back to toned arms snaking their way around her corset-trained waist.

“Fuck it.”

He’s reckless, and he knows it. He knows that he’s getting into a sports car, and slamming his foot on the damned pedal like he’s inviting the fucking car crash to come at him. He misses him enough to not really care.

He types out the message on his phone, tentative fingers making up empty words that he fills with all the hope he has. Sure, they’d agreed to give whatever was going on between them a shot, but outside the four pink walls of the werkroom, it all seems like a fever dream.

Without even going over the message, he presses send and immediately texts Silky to invite her out for a drink or ten before rushing right out the door.

When he returns home to Nashville, the first thing he does is cuddle Henry and Riley. He showers their tiny furry faces with kisses, and completely forgets his suitcases by the door. His heart swells at their affectionate meows before they rest lazily at his feet.

He doesn’t even bother to change out of his sweatshirt and shorts when he sprawls his long limbs out on the couch, his feet hanging off one of the armrests. He relaxes for once after numerous sleepless nights spent practicing a magic show or finishing dresses made of denim and dried oranges.

He blinks and all of a sudden, the light streaming in through the window is gone. As Henry curls up on his chest, he realizes that he’d drifted off to a deep, comfortable sleep. He scratches at the dark grey fur, and reaches for his phone on the coffee table.

A quick sense of dread flashes over him before he opens it. He expects a hundred different emails about future gigs, but he knows that any mention of work will only remind him even more about how tired he is.

What he doesn’t expect to see is Vanessa’s name at the top of all the notifications.

The smell of strong, musky cologne and artificial vanilla from liquid lipsticks cloud his senses. His brain is suddenly addled by the fusion of reality with the almost fantastical world that he’d just left behind.

He opens the chat, and quickly glances at their brief exchange from ages ago. He’d messaged her after she’d been eliminated on season 10, and he almost feels a sense of pride at knowing he was right in saying that she would move on to bigger things.

V: Hey, you back yet lol

He smiles to himself, in spite of how dazed he is.

B: Yeah, why?

It only takes a moment before three gray dots start flashing. He can’t say he’s not amazed that he wants to talk to him, not after how the show had ended. They’d said it wasn’t personal, but he still feels bad about pulling her away from her dream.

V: Nothing, just checking on you lol

It doesn’t take long before his phone starts to ring with Vanessa Vanjie Mateo’s name drawn out in big white letters right on the screen.

“Hey.”

He knows it’s ridiculous for him to miss his voice, he really does. What had happened between them was supposed to be light and easy; but when he feels the pang in his chest when he picks up the phone, he knows he wants more.

“Hey yourself.”

“How you been?”

“I just got back earlier. You?”

“Bitch, I’m tired as shit.”

Tired tastes like cocktail kisses in Untucked. Tired sounds like the rumbling of the van engine after a long day of filming. Tired looks like gold glitter shimmering on tan skin. Tired feels like a warm embrace when everything feels like too much. Tired smells like coconut shampoo.

He knows that he’s not tired because he wants to be.

“I miss you.”

The words are a shot in the dark, and all he can hear is the quiet chatter of the TV on the other end. He wonders what he looks like, what he’s wearing, what he’s doing. He doesn’t have to wonder how he’s feeling. His heart’s always on display.

“I miss you too.”

There’s a silence that washes over them, but neither of them hangs up. He knows his phone bill is probably going to be fucked if this keeps happening, but he doesn’t care. He thinks that he hears Julia Roberts’ voice come from the TV, and he can’t help himself from smiling.

“I’ll be in Chicago a couple of days,” He feels for the words in his mouth, trying his best not to think too much. “Want to meet me?”

“As long as you’re paying the hotel, bitch.”

The next two months pass by in a hazy, busy bliss. Chicago, Los Angeles, Nashville and just about every city where they hole up in hotel rooms all day turn into pictures that they post on Instagram because right now, they have the luxury of not giving a fuck.

Jose waved off any bad flood from their lipsync and Vanjie’s subsequent elimination. He could practically hear the thoughts running through Brock’s head, and quickly kissed them away, stating that “it was just drag.”

It still doesn’t stop Brock from holding him closer and pressing featherlight kisses to his temple on nights when he fears the statement’s half-hearted.

The reality that they’ve built for themselves is safe. He’s so utterly content that he thinks his heart might explode in his chest, and bitch, Allie and Noah better watch out.

He nuzzles his face into Brock’s neck as he basks in the afterglow. His hand splays out on the planes of his toned stomach, fingertips lightly tickling the skin there, and he hears a contented sigh.

“Boo.”

“Mmm.”

He nips at his skin, fully intending to leave a mark. Anything that would scream that in some far-flung country, state or city, there was a man that wanted to see flowers bloom on skin because he wanted him, craved him, longed for him.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

His body shakes in his arms as he chuckles. He takes a deep breath, and he knows that he’s never going to forget this. The zing of deodorant. The sex in the air. The smell that is just so completely Brock that he wants it to fill his lungs and destroy them the way he knew cigarettes destroyed his.

Brock slaps his ass, and he groans at the loss of contact when he rolls out of bed. “I’m going to get a snack, you want anything?”

He props himself up on his elbow, and raises his eyebrows at her. “You got the munchies?”

There’s a wordless shrug, and he leaves the room. He lays in silence for a moment, cocooning himself in the sheets the way he imagines Asia’s cursed little butterflies did. It’s warm and perfect and just oh so safe.

When Brock returns with leftover chicken and two sets of utensils, even though he’d never answered him when he asked if he wanted anything, he feels it like a punch to the gut that knocks the wind straight out of him.

He’s truly, totally, utterly fucked.

Neither of them is quite sure how they did it, but they’d successfully spent the whole month apart. Brock feels like he’s 16, pining over a boy and letting his heart leap out of his chest at the sound of Jose’s voice on every Facetime call.

They go to a bar to meet Detox the night he arrives in LA. Her eyes dart from queen to queen when Jose presses a kiss to his lips before excusing himself to go to the restroom. The look on her face is so quizzical that he has to laugh.

“Sooo,” Detox draws out the word, swirling the bright pink straw in her drink. “You won more than just challenges I guess.”

He laughs, and blushes as he’s teased until Jose returns to practically sit on his lap for the rest of the night.

By midnight, the two of them are standing at the curb outside. He feels a forehead press against his back with arms wrapped around his waist as he tries to book an Uber. He brings a knuckle up to his lips, and feels the hold on him tighten.

“It’s almost here, boo.”

There’s a sigh when he pulls away from him, and a silver car pulls up in front of them shortly. They climb into the back, and he shoots a glare at Jose when he cackles at how his legs fold in the small backseat.

The ride is initially silent, apart from the Christian music playing on the radio. There’s a hand spread out on his thigh, and he turns to him with raised eyebrows. He’s still looking out the window, but the teasing smile on his face gives him away.

The driver starts to hum along to the music, and the hand drifts to the front of his pants, right out of the driver’s purview. He lets out an almost inhuman squeak, and fuck, his brain has stopped working.

The palm starts to work gently, applying extra pressure, and he has to bite back a moan. The world has started to turn dark with lust, and he knows that the ten-minute ride to the apartment is going to feel like hours.

They pass a gay club that he knows Vanjie frequently performs at, and hears the driver grumble about queens being too loud, but his brain is too far gone to really process the words properly.

“I’m never quiet, am I?” There’s a low whisper against the curve of his ear, and he feels a shiver run through his body. He plays back the sound of his scream as he pushes him off the precipice of ecstasy, and he almost faints.

The driver turns the corner on to the street of the apartment, and the palm works harder. He tries to focus on the song playing, something about a king, as they get closer. The hand stills on his half-hard dick, and he sighs in relief as the car stops.

He doesn’t remember rushing up to the apartment, but he knows he gets there in record time. He backs him up against the door, and kisses him like it’s too much. He is too much, and he wants all of it.

When his jacket falls to the ground, he feels his skin burn as hands claw at him. He whispers his name against his lips, over and over again, trying to say all the words he knows he cannot say because his brain is a clusterfuck.

He holds his breath as the other man falls to his knees, fully intending to worship everything that he is. There’s only one thought that he can muster before everything gets reduced into sound and feeling.

He’s completely fucked.

“This is my boyfriend, Jose.”

It feels good.

No, it feels right.

The smile on Brock’s face is so full of pride. It is the universe deciding to invent itself at some point, or no point, in time. It is everything that is real, but should not be because nothing should be so perfect.

He repeats the words to his mother, his sister, his drag mother, everyone he cares about. This is the birthday gift he never knew he wanted, all tied up with string. He thinks it’s almost as good as winning the crown.

Almost.

“Shit, I think your mom tried to kill me.”

He feels like he’s eaten his body weight in food when he crashes onto the couch, and hears Brock laugh as he pours out two glasses of wine for them in the kitchen. With each little movement, he whines at the slight discomfort.

“That just means she likes you.” He looks to the kitchen, and sees Brock’s head buried in the fridge, trying to find the Chalet sauce that he’d purposely saved from lunch earlier in the day.

“Bitch, how can you still eat?”

“It’s Swiss Chalet.” He answers matter-of-factly, and drinks the sauce.

He watches him saunter over to the couch, and set the wine in front of them. He turns the TV on, returning to the part of The Notebook where they’d stopped earlier in the day because he’d complained that “tear markings ain’t a good look when meeting someone’s mom.”

They end up cuddling on the couch as they watch the movie, his legs thrown over Brock’s lap and their fingers intertwined. The credits start to play, but they don’t move. No, it’s too peaceful for either of them to try.

“I love you.”

The words are muffled into his hair, but he’s never heard anything so clearly in his life. In hindsight, it doesn’t really change anything. He knows that the words started to blossom like wildflowers without either of them being aware of it.

But he sees the bright colors of the petals in Brock’s hands, holding them so gently as to not crush them. He hands him the words, and he can feel how delicate they are, how easy it is to let them fly in the cold air of Toronto.

“I love you too.”

He hears the chime signaling midnight come from Brock’s phone, and feels a kiss at the top of his head.

“Happy birthday, boo.”

J: Help me pick a bed frame

J: sent 2 photos

B: The first one

B: Want me to head over to LA next weekend

J: I have a show in NYC, sorry

B: That’s okay, love u

J: Love u 2

B: Mom says she misses you!!!

J: Awe she’s sweet, tell her I miss her 2!

J: Want me to come over for NYE

B: Hosting a party, sorry

J: Alright

B: Love u

J: Love u 2

“I think we need to take a break.”

The words are a joke, and he knows it. It’s easy to break glass bottles and KitKats and highlighters that cost a hundred dollars, but breaking what they have? He thinks it may need years and years to tear it all down. Words don’t seem to suffice.

There’s a quiver to the bottom of his boyfriend’s lip, and he instantly regrets what he’s done, even though he’s convinced himself a million times that this is what would be best for them. For him.

He’s not sure he’ll be able to survive it.

The expression on his face cycles between a handful of emotions. Anger, sorrow, confusion, and a mix of all three in different parts. His heart is still out on his sleeve, and he’s slicing it open and pouring salt on the wound.

“Why?”

The answer to his question is gone. He doesn’t know why. He only knows that before that moment, there was a reason so important that he took a flight just to say it. He deserves better than a sorry excuse on a Facetime call.

His voice is stuck in his throat, and he can barely breathe, and the words are all tangled up in his brain like the yarn he tossed at his cats before he left for LA, and—Jesus, he didn’t think it would hurt this bad.

“I’m just not sure I can handle this right now.”

His answer is honest, but not completely. He doesn’t tell him that he can’t handle his own thoughts. He doesn’t tell him he can’t handle one night when he wants so much more. He doesn’t tell him he can’t handle feeling something so strongly that it threatens to destroy him.

The humorless laugh that comes from his mouth is cruel, and he knows he deserves it. He deserves the pain that comes with giving up. He deserves to watch the flowers they’ve planted wither away in the cold of winter.

He wants him to say something, anything else that will hurt. Anything that will convince him that this isn’t a mistake; but he knows that he won’t. He knows that he’s too good for him, too amazingly kind for him, and he will never kill that longing for him because it’s what he deserves.

“Alright bitch,” The tone of his voice has no malice, and his heart breaks in half. “If that’s what you want.”

He nods, even if it isn’t.

The second night of promo week is full of screaming and laughter. Some of the girls like Nina and Soju have changed out of drag, but she can’t be bothered. She’s spent too much money on her outfit that she ignores the discomfort of the pink feathers tickling at her neck.

“Yeeess!”

The girls are yelling as Silky and her take shots of tequila. She feels it burn as it travels down her throat, into her stomach, and settling in the open wounds she hasn’t quite allowed to heal yet.

Everyone starts to diffuse about the hotel bar into their own little groups, but she doesn’t move. She wants to convince herself that she doesn’t want to go around because of the fact that her heels are squishing her toes together, but she’s never been very good at acting.

The world hasn’t ended. Not really. The earth has continued turning on its axis, and rotating about the sun. It doesn’t give a fuck about the broken heart in her chest that can’t quite understand how to heal.

New York is the epitome of it all. It feels like a large, open space that has a place for just about everyone; but she doesn’t feel like she belongs anywhere. At least not tonight.

“Hey.”

There’s a smile on Brooke’s face as if there’s nothing wrong, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She looks absolutely gorgeous, and she wants to fucking yell at her for it. Or maybe she just wants to fuck her. Either works, really.

“Hey yourself.”

Brooke orders them two more shots of tequila, and she cocks an eyebrow at her.

“You trying to get me drunk, Miss Brooke Lynn?” She throws the hair of her pink wig over one shoulder. This isn’t what she was expecting. She thought they’d spend the next week only talking for interviews, and ignoring each other beyond that.

But she doesn’t complain.

“I,” Brooke raises her glass, and she sees the color of diluted amber swish in it. “Just wanna hang out with a friend.”

The word friend burns more than the tequila does, but hell, if it isn’t the best that she’s felt in two weeks.

“So, you been getting your bookings?” She tries her best to make small-talk, even if she’s always been way too loud for that kind of thing.

“Yeah,” She leans against the bar, and she notices that she looks drained. No amount of makeup can hide the lack of a smile that she’s become accustomed to. “I’ve been here and there lately. I just wanna go home to the cats, though.”

“Oooh, bitch,” She throws her hands up. “You really love them pussies, don’t you?”

Brooke’s laugh is priceless, and when she hears it, she feels like they might be alright. This isn’t what she’d expected or wanted, but it’s a start. The realization is enough, for now.

They’re okay.

“Hey, where you at?”

The volume on his phone is low, but it sounds like she’s on speaker. Even over the thumping bass of the club, Vanjie’s voice rings true and—well, the word isn’t clear exactly. It’s just loud.

“We’re outside already, hold on.”

“Y’all better hurry over here, or I’m whoppin’ your asses!”

She hangs up on him, and he turns to Nina, as if to ask if he looks alright. She gives him a thumbs up, and he feels a flash of gratitude. Of all the queens he wants to be with him tonight, it’s Nina.

They’ve been texting and Facetiming for the past month. On his birthday, he’d called him after three shots, saying happy birthday in the back of a bar somewhere across the country. His voice was soft and sweet, and he made his birthday wish to have him in his arms the next morning.

As they make a beeline for the back, he can’t hear anything but the pounding of his heart in his ears. Everything fades away when the door opens, and he sees her standing in her glittering upside-down jersey and short pink wig.

He thinks she’s never looked better.

“Heeey!”

When her arms wrap around his neck, he thinks he might burst into tears. She’s so close, and he feels how warm she is, smells her signature cologne, hears her whisper that she’s happy to see him. It’s sensory overload.

Too quickly, she lets go and moves on to Nina. She begins to copy Vanjie’s voice, and the room fills with laughter. His sides start to hurt, and it feels so damn good to laugh like this again.

Vanjie’s in the middle of telling her manager something when Nina starts a conversation with him without words. She widens her eyes at him, and he lets out a shaky breath. It takes a moment, but he relents with a nod.

“Hey Vanjie,” She whips her head to look at him, expression so soft and kind that he almost loses the courage to speak. “Can we talk? Like alone?”

“Uhm,” She looks around the room, and apologetically throws a look at her manager. “Can we get a minute?

Nina ushers Vanjie’s manager and the bar’s owner outside, and before she leaves, she flashes him a smile for luck. The door clicks shut, and the room is filled with the vibration of the music and the air conditioner, but in the silence, he isn’t sure what to say.

She’s standing at least eight feet away, but he feels like it’s farther than LA to Nashville. He wants to pull her close, wants her to understand. He has to breathe deeply to keep himself from passing out.

“So,” She clicks her tongue as she runs a hand through her wig. “What did you wanna talk about?”

“I’m sorry.”

The words tumble straight out of his mouth. The look on her face is puzzled, so he musters up the courage to continue what he’s started, even if it means tearing down the walls that keep him safe.

“I don’t want to be away from you.” He says, tears threatening to spill out his eyes. “I was so scared of wanting something so bad that I started to overthink, and I just want you to know that I love you and—”

She pulls him down to cut off his rambling. He thinks she tastes like alcohol, vodka perhaps, and it’s all so fitting because he’s drunk on her again. She tangles her way into every fiber of his being, and the world turns into shades of wine-red and pink.

He doesn’t believe that the universe falls into a place when he kisses Jose, but the feeling of his lips shows him what it feels like. It isn’t quite the stars aligning, but it’s good enough for him.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispers the words against her lips, and she shushes him. He knows that there’s probably lipstick on his face, but he doesn’t care. He kisses her again, softer this time, savoring the way she feels.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah?”

“They got a camera up in here.”

He looks up to the corner of the room, and proudly kisses his boyfriend with fervor.

“Let them see.”

J: Reunion airing this week

B: They’re finally gonna know

J: How much I love that fine ass of yours

B: Haha

B: Okay, I’m about to board

J: C u in two hours

J: Love u

B: Love u 2

[kaepop-trash]

Resurrection In Satisfaction: Epilogue

Rated: Angst

Pairing: JaehyunxReader

Summary: Jaehyun knew better. Yet he felt himself falling back in the loop he thought he was out of, and he loved how satisfying it was.

(A/N): Sorry this was the secret I made you wait so long for. I just wanted it to be perfect so I kept re-reading and tweaking. Anyway, I’m satisfied with this (lol see what I did there). I hope you like it, let me know what you think as well please?

Mini Masterlist

The first thing she wanted after she got off the flight was to get back on it. But the part of her that had seen age and experience made her refrain. The second thing she wanted was a large coffee to avoid the previous day's exhaustion from catching up. There was a strange feeling in her stomach as she waited for her beverage.

She was nervous. 

Six years was a long time to have a reunion with friends and have it not be awkward. But she was also bubbling with excitement, her lips turning up at the thought. 

Her best friend was getting married.

The second last thing she expected was a voice calling her name in the middle of the busy airport, her head turning automatically, spotting a familiar figure waving at her. Yuta waved her over with imminent excitement. 

The last thing she expected was Jaehyun being with him.

“We just landed, oh my god look at you.” He hugged her tightly, holding her back like he was getting a good look. Yuta’s familiar wide grin laced with nostalgia, “You look so important.” He exclaimed, looking unbelievably proud.

“I had a meeting right before my flight, I had to rush.” She explained.

“Yeah, you must be busy designing a hotel.” Yuta teased and she smiled.

“It's satisfying.” She admitted.

“How are you?” His voice winded her in a way she wasn’t expecting.

“Good, it’s been good.” She said with a gentle smile. His lips lifted in the corner like he believed her.

“It’s very good to see you again.” He gave her a reserved hug. It amazed her how he still smelt so familiar, even with the addition of expensive cologne in exchange of generic deodorant.

“Let’s go, we have a busy day.” Yuta grinned loudly, his excitement spreading to them naturally.

The first person to greet them when they reached the hotel was Mark, sitting at the bar with a girl he seemed to be talking to. When he noticed her, his eyes went wide in a way that reminded her of the younger mark she knew. He raised his arm and waived, grinning in his typical fashion and she waved back.

“I need to go talk to the restaurant manager.” Yuta said as they stood at the reception, “Both your rooms are on the same floor, you should go rest a little.” Yuta nodded as he checked the room numbers and handed them their cards.

“You’re already acting like a diligent husband.” Jaehyun wondered out loud.

“He’s almost grown up.” She exclaimed and Jaehyun nodded in agreement.

“I’m going to be married soon, don’t your single asses have any plans?” Yuta flicked invisible hair off his shoulder.

“I’m a strong independent women!” She gasped.

“I’m married to my team.” Jaehyun explained, both of them turned to him with a weird gaze.

“If someone doesn’t know that you’re the manager of a basketball team, that’s just weird.” Yuta mumbled regretfully.

They left Yuta behind, reaching the elevator. Till they were about a quarter way up, it was silent. The tension of time in between them like an elephant. It was a few floors later that the elevator stopped to reveal Doyoung, his arm around the waist of a girl. He let her waist go but realised it was too late, sighing.

“Why is it always the both of you.” He groaned, stepping back and letting the door close, not getting on the elevator. There was another momentary silence.

“Isn’t that Yuta’s fiance”s sister?” She asked, both of them bursting into laughter when he nodded.

“And here I was worried about all the things that changed.” She said between laughter.

“Not where it counts clearly.” He grinned at her, an illicit shiver running up her chest.

Yuta came downstairs, reiterating to Haechan the duties as his best man.

“I choose you because you’re smart, all of you were equal candidates. Don’t disappoint me young one.” Yuta said seriously and Haechan rolled his eyes.

“You choose me because Jaehyun and Doyoung didn’t want you as their best man. I know what I have to do, don’t mock me.” Haechan scoffed and Yuta took an offenced step back.

“Where is Jaehyun anyway, I need to give him the ring.” Yuta frowned, Haechan looked around the lobby, his eyes landing on the bar.

“He seems to be talking to (Y/N), maybe tell him later?” Haechan grinned and Yuta shook his head.

“Look at them!” Yuta didn’t really sound mad as he watched Jaehyun and her laugh at something, her leaning in into him with familiarity. Jaehyun’s eyes traced her smile as she put a hand on his shoulder and laughing about something he said.

“Nine years and they find my wedding to fall in love!” He slapped his arms against his hips in a manner of tantrum but grinned widely.

She was talking to the would be bride at the rehearsal dinner as she insisted on knowing what Yuta was like in University.

“Did he ever do anything scandalous?” She asked with a grin.

“Nope, sadly this lady here took up all the scandal for our household.” A voice spoke from behind making (Y/N)'s eyes go wide as she turned around.

“With that lovely gentleman over there of course.” Johnny pointed at Jaehyun across the room. She was about to embrace Johnny but slapped his chest instead, making him wince but laugh.

“How are you shorty?” Johnny patted her head making her scoff.

“I can't believe you. You convince me to come and then I get here and you're the only person missing.” She glared at him playfully.

“I have a business to run. Plus I heard you're doing just fine.” Johnny winked making her eyes go wide and her face blush a deep red.

“It's nothing like that, we're just all old friends catching up.” She brushed it off.

“No we're old friends catching up. Old friends don't look at you the way Jaehyun is looking at you right now. Don't look.” He warned, holding her shoulders. Yuta's fiancée beside them laughed, searching into her bag and pulling out something.

“Here.” She said, producing a mirror in front of her. She tried to look incredulous but let curiosity take over and glance into the mirror. Truthfully enough, Jaehyun stood by looking towards her with eyes lost in time.

She sat in one of the chairs, the pleasant warm air of April perfect for an outdoor wedding. The cherry blossoms floating definitely added to the romance in the air. Yuta’s mother noticed her sitting, far more behind than she liked, and insisted she come sit in the front.

“He’s as much family to you as me,” Was her warm reasoning. “At least the boys get so be out front.” She winked and (Y/N) could only laugh, getting up to follow her.

She was transfixed by the sheer beauty of her surroundings, as Yuta’s mother recalled all the stories her son had told her every oppurtunity he got.

“He always says that he’ll never find people like you out in the world.” She said and she nodded, an odd feeling in her chest at the idea.

As they talked, a slow music started in the air, her eyes drifting towards the end of the aisle, where all her friends walked out in impeccable tuxedos, joined in the end by Yuta who looked like the happiest man on earth as he came and stood by the priest.

She smiled at the sight with pride, heart swelling for his happiness. As her eyes scanned the rest of his groomsmen, all of them with the same smile on their face as hers. When her eyes landed on Ten, he winked at her and looked away right after, as the bride entered. Her eyes went wide but she smiled, her eyes next drifting to Jaehyun who was laughing at Ten.

When their eyes met, Jaehyun’s smile turned strange. A unique blend of bliss and regret combined and made her chest churn in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. She gave him a weak smile, it was hard but she also looked genuine. His lips moved silently and she laughed, he said she looked beautiful. She mouthed a shy thank you and Jaehyun’s lips split into a grin.

“Can you both flirt later I need my ring.” Yuta’s voice made them both turn, the crowd giggling gently as they peeked to see who he was referring to. She looked away with a red face, as Jaehyun fumbled and transferred the ring to Yuta who winked at him. They both tried desperately to not glance at each other.

.

“You make me want to be a better man. You make me want to grow up and do things like pay my taxes right and get a mortgage. It's so scary, but it's also the reason why I wouldn't spend the rest of my life with anyone else.” Yuta's grin grew wider as his vows made his soon to be wife tear up in front of him, “I knew you were the one when I realised that there is no one else in the world I'd want to make shitty breakfast for. I knew you were the one when you slipped in the shower and I thought I would lose my mind because you were in so much pain. I am the person I am because of you and I'm the luckiest man in the world because you said yes. Also you're an ugly crier but I accept you with all your flaws.” Yuta scoffed at his bride, making her hit his arm playfully. All around other people who slowly sobbed let out a chuckle too, people who knew Yuta were more accustomed and rolled their eyes with it. Soon enough the rings were exchanged and the ceremony was over. (Y/N) stood watching the people around her as Taeyong joined beside her.

“Have you seen my daughter?” Taeyong asked and she smiled, pointing at Jaehyun's figure with Taeyong's toddler in his arms.

“Was he always that good with kids?” She wondered out loud and Taeyong chuckled.

“He's good with her. My daughter is mostly quiet and he's had many occasions with her. Jaehyun is really a saviour sometimes.” Taeyong informed and she chuckled.

“I remember when Jae called me that one summer because he had to babysit his cousin and he panicked.” She laughed.

“He was a child himself then. So were we.” His words felt more meaningful with his gaze and her small smile let him know she caught on, “This one instance, I had to leave urgently in the evening for a meeting and she was home alone for the longest time. I left a window open by mistake and she was barely two. If Jaehyun hadn't come in time and taken her to the hospital my daughter wouldn't be here now. He stayed with her through the night because she kept crying.” Her smile fell at the guilt in his eyes

“Being a single parent doesn't sound easy. You're doing a fine job” She noted, giving him a reassuring pat on his shoulder and Taeyong only smiled.

“It's not, but it's a reward in itself. She's my whole life.” Taeyong said without hesitation.

“It must be nice to love someone that profusely.” She didn't even register her own lingering gaze on Jaehyun, Taeyong just smiled.

“You tell me.” He grinned, winking when she turned his way with pink cheeks.

The reception went by in a flash and the old friends sat in the corner of hotel bar, with a new person amongst them.

“I have to ask. How did Na Yuta manage to deceive such an amazing girl to spend the rest of her life with him?” She asked as she sipped on her drink. Yuta's wife only laughed.

“Because I'm amazing, and I'm married. Isn't that great?” Yuta displayed his occupied ring finger and everyone laughed at his excitement.

“But honestly, who thought Yuta would be the first one to get married.” She said and everyone had to nod.

“We always thought it would be Taeyong.” Haechan said, amused at Yuta's defensive face, “Instead he just graduated straight to parent.” Haechan grinned wide knowing that he teased Taeyong.

“But it was me.” Yuta said pointedly, “I got married. And stop judging our Yongie, he’s a great dad, I’m taking lessons.” He winked at his new bride, whose eyes went wide with shock and everyone laughed.

.

A few hours had passed and Yuta's wife excused herself to go talk to other guests as they still stayed and catch up.

“I think I owe my marriage to Jae.” Yuta said making him laugh. She turned to Jaehyun with a confused smile and he grinned.

“The first day I met her, I was blown away. I told Jaehyun that man I want to make this last but I don't know how.” Yuta grinned so wide.

“Jaehyun says, don't sleep with her.” Everyone at the table laughs at the story while she listened with intrigue, “He told me, if you want it to last, wait for three dates. If you realised that you want to, she's definitely the one.” Yuta grinned again and Jaehyun smiled.

“Thanks bud, kind of owe you my marriage.” Yuta said gratefully and everyone laughed again.

After a while Yuta left, promising to meet at breakfast and tell everyone what being married felt like.

“How's work?” Jaehyun asked her and the small smile on her face was an answer in itself. They lingered on the way to the elevator, no excuse needed as they spoke.

“Satisfying. I love it, building something to last beyond me.” She smiled wider, turning to face him, “How is managing a professional team?” She asked.

“Just what you'd expect. I finally know how Taeyong felt having to take care of all of us.” Jaehyun laughed, “But it's nice, I always loved the sport and this way I get to be close to it. It feels great when I can help the players in anyway. Most of them are so young and lost, they need someone to ground them around all the money and fame.” She smiled in a peculiar way at his words, making him tilt his chin in question. They turned to knowing ding of the elevator, a wash of disappointment rushing over them. Still they got on, continuing their catching up.

“You've really grown into an admirable man Jaehyun, age is on your side.” She nodded.

“I've learned a lot from life. I was lost and I found myself, I nursed heartbreaks and fell in love again, I've seen the world and met different people.” He paused and took a deep breath.

“I'm happy for you.” She said mystically.

“You were right about me needing to grow,” He began, and she looked up and listened intently. “But you were wrong about something else.” He said, a smile already adorning his features. She asked him what it was and he smiled secretively, turning to the door as their floor arrived.

“I didn't realise it till I saw you at the airport.” Jaehyun looked away, neck red from embarrassment, walking out the elevator.

“With all the wisdom of age, I still couldn't see us as a impulsive mistake.” He bit his lip and she was taken aback, not because he was wrong. But because she didn't think he'd say it. As she felt, but she didn't have the courage to say it.

“What about you? When did you know?” Jaehyun asked casually, allowing the air to remain clean as they reminisced.

“The first time I thought I fell in love, I found myself comparing him to you. It was horrifying.” She laughed and Jaehyun joined, “But that's when it hit me.” She nodded and Jaehyun smiled.

It was simple, it felt easy. Jaehyun walked her to her hotel room, their steps were deliberately slow as neither of them spoke in their contemplation. When she stopped in front of her door both of them lingered, but she knew it was her turn.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked and Jaehyun nodded, her face turning hot and red as she grinned.

“I have three more months with the project I'm working on right now and then I'm back home. Will you go on a date me after that?” She looked away, covering her face with her hand.

“One condition.” He grinned too and she complied.

“We won't sleep together till the third date.” His smile was meaningful and she nodded, the fresh possibilities exciting her.

It had been all but a few minutes after Jaehyun left her at her door that there was a knock on her door. She was still grinning so wide her face hurt, as she answered the door. Jaehyun leaned in from the door but she reflexively stepped back making him stumble and almost fall, but she grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?” She asked as he stood up straight. His ears turned a bright shade of red and he stumbled over his words before stopping with a sigh.

“I wanted to be suave and kiss you. That didn't work.” He mumbled looking away. Her grin turned into a smirk, her eyes glittering.

“That's cheating.” She said and Jaehyun looked up and shook his head.

“It's not, I made the rules.” He pointed his fingers upwards, she followed it with her gaze but looked back at him. He slumped back down when she was still unconvinced.

“Just one?” He grinned.

“No.” She shook her head and he pouted. She watched him for a second, before leaning in and leaving a peck on his cheek.

“That's all you'll get, take me on three dates Jaehyun.” She spoke to his wide eyed face before closing the door, leaving him there wondering how he'd get her even.

[molotovmetro]

My metal collection has been expanded

[showingthroughtome]

3: june 9th

Just as she's about to ask him something, he has a question of his own. “What are you thinking about?”

She's so unclear on exactly where they stand, what they can and can't say to each other, what topics would be too awkward to breach or if he’d even want her too. Instead of lying completely, she goes with a half truth.

“Just wondering when you'll finally let me pick that movie you promised.” The weight of his gaze is heavy so she turns towards him and raises her eyebrows, “Huh?”

read below - story page - word count: 986

Ice cream man, is the text message Jessica gets approximately 3 seconds after she hears the distorted bell ring down her street. She had already been reaching for her coin jar and sliding on her pink flip flops.

Hurry up, she replies to Harry in a rush, eager not to miss one of her favorite parts about summer. The screen door slams shut as she rushes out of the house. She is already whispering a silent prayer that her mom won't get on her about it before she hits the end of her driveway.

Jessica spots the ice cream truck stopped at a house that she knows two little girls live in, so she sighs a breath of relief and looks across the street for her friend. He isn't out of the house yet, of course. He’s probably still trying to scoop up enough pocket change to buy his favorite treat.

I have money, just come on

But as soon as she hits send, she hears his feet stomping the pavement in a jog to her side of the road, hand full of quarters.

“You know I have this.” Holding up the mason jar, Jessica shakes the coins and looks at Harry with playful disappointment.

“I wasn't sure. You might’ve taken it to school with you.”

As he stands right beside her to join in her not so patient waiting, she nudges him with her hip, “Then I would've brought it back home too.”

Harry stumbles back a few more steps than necessary, exaggerating his dramatics to make her feel guilty. “You know how I get when I hear the ice cream song. All logic goes out the window and I just start running around the room like a madman.”

That's something Jessica can fully understand, and has witnessed many times, so she nods, “We should have a longer street for this specific reason.”

His laughter is sudden and fills all the space around her, making pride swell in her chest.

“I'll tell the townspeople to get right on that, small stuff.” He ruffles the top of her hair, messing up what was already wind tossed and unruly at best. Swatting his hand away, she glares him right in the eyes and prepares to curse at him but is distracted by the ice cream truck that's headed straight for them.

When it stops right in front of them, she completely forgets about his childish actions and asks for her favorite. “One strawberry shortcake ice cream, please?”

“That'll be one dollar.” The older man says after he disappears and comes back a moment later with her ice cream.

As she digs around for four quarters, Harry orders and pays for his cotton candy popsicle - the cheapest one but the only one Jessica can remember him ever getting.

“Thank you so much.” She hands the old man her money, smiling brightly.

Once he's gone, Jessica and Harry walk across the street, over to the 3 foot tall brick fence that surrounds Harry house for no reason. It's never been good for keeping anyone in or out but it has always looked nice and provided another place for the two to sit when they didn't have anywhere better to be.

Harry hops up without a problem under the protection of his jean shorts. Jessica, on the other hand, has shorts on that don't even come close to the length of her fingertips.

“Just come on.” Harry pushes, patting the brick beside him, getting a kick out of her hesitant expression.

“I don't want to scratch up my thighs.”

“You used to jump up without a problem.”

Jessica rolls her eyes and takes that as a challenge, placing her ice cream safely to the side, pushing up with her forearms then twisting to sit on her butt, not getting one scratch from the brick. Smiling in victory, she stares him down, pulling the protective wrapping from her treat and then taking a bite. The time the bar had spent in the frigid truck, made for a very frozen treat that didn’t melt even when placed on the warm brick, and directly exposed to the sun.

“Oooh! Points to Jess!” He laughs and follows suit, his pretty pink lips wrapping around the popsicle.

A minute or two pass in silence while they're indulging, watching the sun slowly, slowly slip behind Jessica's house, turning the sky a burnt orange. She should’ve spent the entire time thinking about how beautiful everything is, but Jessica can only pay attention to Harry sitting so close beside her and the energy passing through them. It feels like a static that'll shock her if she moves but one she is desperate to be jolted by.

Just as she's about to ask him something, he has a question of his own. “What are you thinking about?”

She's so unclear on exactly where they stand, what they can and can't say to each other, what topics would be too awkward to breach or if he’d even want her too. Instead of lying completely, she goes with a half truth.

“Just wondering when you'll finally let me pick that movie you promised.” The weight of his gaze is heavy so she turns towards him and raises her eyebrows, “Huh?”

Half of his popsicle is almost gone and his lips have turned blue because of it. Licking over his bottom one, he shifts his eyes around, thinking. “How about tomorrow?”

Just like when his parents pulled into the driveway a couple of days ago, her excitement gets killed due to her own. “Mom, Dad, the girls, and I are going to Holiday World tomorrow.”

The amusement park usually ignites smiles across all faces but for some reason, it's getting these two 19 year olds to stare blankly at one another. That is, until Harry squints hard at her, leaning back and smirking, “What? You're not going to invite me?”

authors note:

hiii!! thank you for reading! please tell me what you think!!!!!!!! 

i know i said i was going to update this more frequently than once a week but that doesn’t seem to work for me for some reason lol so every Wednesday expect a new chapter of this!

as always, thank you to @what-comes-from-within for being an amazing beta!!!

again, thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

[you-andthebottlemen]

5 -

Request: ‘Something about Van dating a journalist?”

I hope this is alright anon!! I just wanted to write something cute and heartwarming. Supportive boyfriend Van is an absolute dream am I right? (P.S I know nothing about journalism lol) xxxx

***********

“Fuck!” You shouted and threw your phone down beside you.

You stomped your legs like a child, putting your face in your hands and groaning in frustration.

Van walked through the door, curious about the sound and looked at you with a confused expression. You slumped back into the couch and sighed; you felt defeated.

“What’s wrong babe?” He asked, peeling his banana as he came to sit beside you.

“The publication rejected my story and all my ideas. They’re gonna fire me unless they get something they like within the next three days. I have nothing!” You threw yourself into his arms, starting to cry and he held you, one arm tightly around your body and the other stretched out to protect his snack.

“Hey it’s alright y/n, you’re a dead good writer and they’re just too fussy to appreciate you properly. I reckon just quit and do your own thing.”

You knew he was only trying to help but somehow those words made it worse. In journalism, you couldn’t just ‘do your own thing’ if you wanted to be successful; freelance was tough as shit. You’d been working with this publication for only a month now, it was your first job after university and you’d thought it had been going well. Suppose not. They loved you at the start but soon realised your talents and their requests didn’t seem to fit. But you couldn’t afford to quit, you needed a job. You wanted to write about art, music, and culture...about real people. They just wanted you to write gossip about Kylie Jenner’s tits.

“What the living fuck do I write about?” You questioned, not actually expecting an answer. You'd tried everything with them and they were never happy.

You sat up and wiped your face and Van finished his banana slowly, thinking.

“You could write about us? Like me and the lids, Catfish?” He suggested, a caring tone in his voice and pronouncing ‘us’ as if it had a ‘z’ on the end.

“They’ve hated all my music articles so far,” you sighed.

“Yeah but you’ve never interviewed me have you?” Van said cheekily and full of ego.

That was true. You thought about it for the rest of the night, trying to come up with something else and you just couldn’t. You began to imagine the story, starring Van McCann of Catfish and The Bottlemen...an insight into their lives that no one had captured before. No one at work knew you were dating Van, so while it was technically unprofessional (and cheating) there was no one who could catch you out. Usually, you had to jump through hoops to get an interview with celebrities and as for the publication you worked for, they simply didn't have the budget or resources to ever get someone like Van on their cover. It was kind of a genius plan actually. If they liked it, that is.

“Fine I'll do it, I'll interview you,” you whispered to Van as you melted into his side under the bed sheets.

“And it’ll be your best article ever babe,” Van promised just before he turned out the light and you both fell asleep.

......

You sat at the bar table across from Van. You had your arms crossed, notepad and pen beside you and you were staring at him trying not to laugh.

“This is for my work Van we gotta be serious!”

“Yeah love don’t worry I’ll be proper professional. I’ll even drink scotch so I seem more upper class,” Van laughed and you copied.

Composing yourself, you ordered some drinks, though no scotch was involved. It was probably good to get Van a little tipsy before you probed his brain in a way you never had before. You were kinda nervous really. You weren’t sure if you should be yourself and get a candid, playful interview with Van or turn on your work persona and get straight to the point. You weren’t even sure what stuff to talk about. You’d written up some rough questions but you felt it was all cliche crap that every other pop culture journalist would ask. This was all made worse by the big black cloud hanging over your head that was the possibility of losing your job if this didn’t turn out amazing.

Van sipped his drink messily, slurping on the straw. He also managed to knock over the bowl of peanuts that sat communally on the table, sending them flying into his lap and onto the floor. He was so clumsy yet no one really knew it. Except you.

After you'd cleaned up his mess and gotten a replacement serve of peanuts, you began to ask him casual questions about the band, how they started and where they got their name; stuff he’d been asked hundreds if not thousands of times. Yet he still answered with as much enthusiasm as he would have the first time he’d been interviewed. It was so heartwarming and your chest swelled with love.

You wrote down his answers and described the setting. You made sure to set the scene perfectly; the chatter around you, the couples kissing in the corner, the hazy sound of The Doors playing over the sound system. You took note of the cascading fairy lights that hung dimly behind the bar and how they reflected off the bottles of liquor...and off  Van's blue eyes. Maybe that was more a personal note for you.

He talked with sheer passion and moved his arms about wildly, almost knocking the fucking peanuts again. All of this you recorded in your notes to later craft into a feature article.

You ordered more drinks, whether that was a good idea or not and continued to discuss music, Catfish, and life with Van. This was not unusual, however, it felt different. You knew this was for your job and he knew your job was on the line. It was clearly more than your normal conversations with him. He really was treating you like a professional, not his girlfriend. But you still had that electric connection of course and it would definitely translate in the interview. He was giving you 110%.

"So, Mr. McCann...now that we have discussed your band and all the usual rock star bullshit...tell me...how do you feel about love?" You'd not include the swear word obviously.

He locked eyes with you intensely.

"Well, love is absolutely everything to me. I love my band, I love my family, I love my friends and I fucking love life," he began.

"But you see, I met this girl while I was on the road and she changed everything for me. She's like the all the fucking stars in the sky, I love her to death. I'm gonna marry her one day and we are gonna have like loads of babies because that's just how much I love her," Van's eyes became dreamy and you felt like you were going to explode.

"Any advice to young fans out there who are just looking for some lovin'? You asked, struggling to restrain yourself from reaching out and dragging him into you for a kiss.

You were really straying from your draft questions now. In fact, you were straying from any interview outline you'd ever drawn up.

"Come to our shows, grab some hot person's hand and if they're down, fucking kiss the shit out of them! Be brave and just say 'fuck it'. If that's one thing our music can do, teach kids to just say 'fuck it' and live, then I'm doing my job properly, you know what I mean?"

And you did, You knew exactly what he meant. He didn't get his thrills from the money or the sold out shows. He got it from the knowledge that people found happiness in what he did and that he'd somehow impacted actual human lives.

You finished off your drink and ate the last remaining peanuts. You had pages upon pages of notes that you couldn't wait to transcribe tomorrow.

Holding Van's hand you walked home. The cold air didn't bother either of you, the alcohol and love you felt for each other kept you warm; as cheesy as that sounds.

"You're like, really good at that interviewing thing," Van told you and you smiled, leaning over to ruffle his hair.

....

The following few days was stress filled and chaotic. You'd written up the article and were actually really proud of it. Van had kept out of your way so you could focus, but brought you cups of tea on a regular basis. You were so grateful to have someone as supportive of you as he was. He understood hard work and he was so proud to see you put everything into what you did.

You of course, had to exclude any drunken rambling but for the most part, it was amazing. The interview had great flow and it was really intimate. You'd captured Van in a way you'd never seen another interviewer do before, which said something. He was one of the most open and animated people you'd ever met. You poured your literal heart and soul into this feature, as did he, and you prayed to whoever was listening, that your bosses loved it too.

You sat on the couch shaking and sweating with nerves. You stared at your phone waiting for the call that would dictate whether or not you were unemployed. Van sat beside you, gently stroking your thigh in an attempt to show support and comfort. He knew you were best not to be smothered when you were this anxious.

Suddenly the phone buzzed and the publication HQ number flashed on the screen. Van gave you a quick kiss and you answered, taking the call to another room.

When you came back out, Van stood up with his eyebrows raised. He looked so anxious.

"So?" He questioned frantically.

You looked at the phone in your hand with a confusion,

"I got fucking promoted?"

Van cheered loudly, the same way he does when he's having a blast on stage. He ran over, picked you up and swung you around in his arms. You kissed him hard and smiled into his mouth. God, you loved this boy and his stupidly good band.