#I would apologize for the shitty phone doodle but honestly I think it should go in the louvre | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weeklyfangirl · 4 years

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Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.

My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough.

“oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.”

A flying toenail hit my eye.

“WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.

“Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

“oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!”

“IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back.

I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle.

“All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

“You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.”

“Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.”

I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.”

“Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?”

This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did.

After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t.

And he didn’t.

And therein lay the problem.

It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

“Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.”

“Ew, he smells like meat.”

“RENNY!!”

“I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

“He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.”

She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window.

“Hey Renny?”

“Hm.”

A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?”

“Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.”

“Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.

“Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?”

Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first.

“I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.”

“Oh.”

“It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

“The divorce or your virginity.”

“Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis.

“I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more.

Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?”

Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him.

“Maybeeee…?”

But then there was last night.

I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves?

“No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.”

Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.”

“Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this.

Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly.

But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him?

You were right, Harry. You are fucked.

I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh.

I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

Renny was right.

I needed therapy.

The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

“Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?”

DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please.

I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

“NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

“Fine. I can keep a secret.”

I was getting a little too good at that lately.

She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious.

“Yeah, more than you know.”

And I was serious, too.

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I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs.

Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery. .

“Woah did you hear that?”

Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.”

It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next.

A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did.

“It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts.

“How’d you know that?”

She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance.

I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick.

Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away.

My hand wavered.

Odd.

Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors.

I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over.

“Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”

Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster.

“I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.”

Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too.

“Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed.

We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from.

“Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment.

My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?”

“Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-”

“My God,” David proclaimed.

Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.”

“Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass.

Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

“Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased.

He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.”

We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left.

“Look closer.”

My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang.

“Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin.

The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot.

“Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

“Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.”

“How so?”

“Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.”

He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside.

He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles.

“They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said.

A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.”

“Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.”

“Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him.

I felt him come closer.

“Listen now,” he urged.

I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder.

“Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.”

I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed.

“Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?”

I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous.

“What do you hear?” he urged.

“I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped.

But right when I was about to open my eyes-

I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter.

“Birds?” I opened my eyes.

“Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself.

“Why are there birds?”

“We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half.

My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.”

“All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes.

“Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.”

“What do you mean?”

She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow.

I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second.

I was naked.

In all of them.

One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.

Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet.

The wine had dropped.

I’d dropped it.

I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb.

“Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked.

I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe.

He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees.

Because that’s what it was.

An exposure.

A stranger could pay to have me in their home.

The floor spun, vision spotting.

My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly.

“I didn’t want this.”

And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home.

part 22

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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we’ll get there [pt. 2] (plastique/brooke) - scheherazade

A/N: part two !! if you haven’t read part one yet, you should because then, this wouldn’t make sense (and i would appreciate it v much if you will !! :“>) plastique finally appears in this one !

(also, i have depicted college to my best knowledge and i apologize in advance for any oddities regarding it)

Summary: Brooke and Vanjie break up and Brooke is thrust into the aftermath where there are broken friendships & inner turmoil to be found. She gets by with a little help from an old friend.

Brooke opened their dorm room door with a flourish and a smile on her face. Inside, Nina laid on her bed with a laptop and looked at her hopefully.

"What’s got you so happy?”

“Eve and I talked.” Nina looked at her earnestly, urging her to continue. “And there was forgiveness and cupcakes.”

“Why do I sense a but there?”

“But, she told me that forgiveness didn’t mean forgetting so I have to work on building our trust and friendship again. And I’m willing to.” Brooke plopped on her bed. “Oh, before I forget, Shuga wanted me to deliver these to you.” she pulled out cookies wrapped in plastic with a little bow tying it.

“Aw,” Nina cooed, accepting the treat. “Is she still working? I might come by.”

“I think so? Her mom is sick or something so she’s managing the bakery along with that one girl.” Brooke waved her hand.

“Kim?”

“No, no. The one who mostly always wears pink? The girl my ballet teacher has a weird crush on?”

“Oh, Trixie!”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Katya’s still pining huh?” Brooke nodded in response. “Anyway, I’ll go visit Shuga and thank her for these.” Nina shook the bag of cookies. “And I need a break from this.”

“What’s that?” Brooke leaned over and looked at Nina’s sketchbook filled with doodles of various clothes.

“Our project. Ms. Velour wants us to make a whole line that’s ‘pure camp’ or something.” Nina explained, using air quotes. “Anyway, I gotta go.”

“Take care, have fun!” Brooke called out as the door closed. She thought about her own project and the mystery partner that she was going to meet tomorrow.

Turning over to lay on her stomach, Brooke recalled her conversation with Yvie. After she had ordered pastries and drinks for the both of them, Brooke fumbled with starting the conversation. Yvie, ever the direct one, set her straight.

“You knew that I don’t have a good relationship with A'keria much less Silky, right?”

Brooke had nodded. They were—for the lack of better wording—mean. She had never been on the receiving end of their attitude but she had a friend who had been. They spread rumors like wildfire and if you’re unlucky, you get burned. But they weren’t bad people.

“I had no problem with you and Vanjie together. Honestly. The bitchiness that I had towards her was just me projecting my anger. She’s a nice girl and god knows why she’s friends with those two,”

Brooke had experienced first hand what it was like, being in their group. The three had undeniable chemistry.

“I had no problem when you became friends with them, as well. I mean, it was kind of inevitable. You were in the same circle. I didn’t care even if you were associating with people that spread bullshit about me and others because you were my friend. But,”

“But then, you suddenly weren’t.”

“It started small. You didn’t eat with us anymore. Nina was like, 'she just wants to spend time with her girlfriend, let her be’. And it was fine because you were happy! Then you stopped hanging out with us, barely even slept in your own dorm room. Nina and Shuga took full advantage of that by the way,”

They what?

“Then you sat with us one day, like a miracle. I was…happy. Up until you decided that A'keria, Silky, and me in one table was a good idea. Didn’t end so well didn’t it?”

Brooke remembered the disaster. She thought she could bring her two worlds together. It began with snide quips from Silky about Yvie and Scarlet and A'keria fanned the flames. Scarlet compared opinions to assholes but Yvie full-on clapped back. Somewhere in there, someone was called talentless. Silky and A'keria walked out and Vanjie followed. Yvie walked out as well. Guess who Brooke followed?

“The next day, I go to class to hear rumors about me. They were ridiculous and untrue but that many? Still hurt.”

“I knew who they came from. Because obviously. Nina tried to stop me but she eventually just ended up following me. She said that she knew she couldn’t stop me because I was the same kind of hard-headed as you are.”

Brooke remembered the confrontation that happened in front of her locker. That time however, Silky and A'keria had come prepared and hit where it hurt.

“They said so much bullshit and you know me, I’m not one to let that get away. But it just, it hurt so much. I–I looked at you and you did nothing.”

Brooke gritted her teeth. She knew what came next. A'keria had pointed out that if Brooke wasn’t defending Yvie, Brooke who was her best friend, then maybe all those rumours were true.

“You said nothing. You just stood there like your batteries died or something. I hated you then. I thought, I knew what friendship was and this wasn’t it.”

“Then you walked away with them.”

Brooke had tried to apologize…eventually. It took Vanjie for her to do that and even then, it was a shitty apology.

“It was crap. Beauty gurus could do better apologies than that so you know you’re fucked.”

Yvie didn’t accept her apology then. So Brooke never tried again.

“When you never followed up, I thought it was my mistake that I didn’t accept your apology. But as much as I wanted to have my friend back, I didn’t want this B-rate version of her.”

“Then you fully detached from us for almost half a year. You came back when you broke up.”

A thought sprung up in her head. No matter how much she was able to push down her feelings about the break-up during the day, it always came back to haunt her at night. Brooke was unsure about how she truly felt about it. She knew that anger was what she projected but it was only a surface emotion.

We don’t have time to unpack all of that, she thought to herself and resolved to take a quick nap before going to the ballet studio and teasing her teacher about Trixie.

•

The next morning, Brooke woke up to Nina and Yvie having breakfast in the living room. She joined them and ate waffles and drank coffee. They walked Brooke to Ms. Visage’s room. Thank god she wasn’t late today.

Turns out, she was too early. There was only one person in the room and it was someone Brooke wanted to avoid. Vanjie had her earphones in and hadn’t seemed to notice her so maybe she could just come back—

“Hey Brooke Lynn!” Too late. Vanjie beckoned her over and like a puppy, she followed. “Can we talk?”

“Well, you’re talking.” Even with the distance of about three chairs between them, Vanjie probably heard the bite in her voice. She was good in noticing those little details in Brooke. Too good in fact. That’s a part of why Brooke loved her.

Some of the fight went out of Vanjie’s shoulders but there was still that desperation. But what for?

“Brooke, I didn’t want to end it that way. I don’t want this to be messy. I ain’t ever want to be messy and you know that. But before I could say more, you just ran away. Gone like poof,” she made a motion with her hands.

“Why would I stay? You made your point clear. I wasn’t enough.”

Brooke really wasn’t ready for this conversation. She felt cornered.

Vanjie looked at her sadly. “You’re angry. Brooke, we weren’t happy,”

“I was!”

“No you weren’t.”

“How can you decide that for me? You made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with me when you told me that it’s over!”

“Brooke you—”

“That’s just like you isn’t it? You make decisions and string everyone along.” Brooke barreled on and let her mouth run, something she rarely dif. “Maybe you never even loved me. You just—”

“Stop.”

“No, I’m tired of listening to you.”

“Then listen to yourself! You’re smart Brooke, you know what you just said was nonsense.” Vanjie put her earphones back in. She looked upset. Brooke felt…guilty? “When you’re ready to understand, talk to me. I don’t want us to end this way.”

Brooke wanted to move but she felt stuck. Something was wrong. What she said was wrong. Those accusations she said… Even if she didn’t understand what Vanjie saw in their relationship that was unsatisfying, she shouldn’t have—

Brooke sighed. Maybe, maybe it was time for her to let this go. If they already fought like this because Brooke wasn’t willing to listen, then maybe they weren’t meant to be together. Brooke was adaptable, if nothing else.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said and hoped that Vanjie listened despite having her earphones in. “I didn’t understand so I was angry, but I’m sure you knew that. You always knew me best. And I want to talk, I’ll listen this time I promise. But, I need time to myself first to process all of this.”

With that, she gingerly walked away and sat in the back row. She felt something stuck in her throat but she ignored it.

••

Time passed quickly with Brooke struggling to put a lid on her thoughts. She was going to process it, like she promised, but not during class. And not without supervision either.

She just hoped Nina and Yvie would be available later. Just to make sure, she took out her phone and texted Yvie.

BLH: I need help. R u and Nina free to talk later?

Oddly Enough: nina asks if you’re okay ??

BLH: Yeah, thanks for worrying :) just need some advice

Oddly Enough: abt what ?

BLH: Vanjie

Oddly Enough: Do you need us to bring some comfort food? -Nina

BLH: Yes! Whatever your gf can give us

Oddly Enough: I’ll tell her :) -N

Oddly Enough: congrats u just gave the a reason to interact

Oddly Enough: c u later

With nothing else to do, Brooke listened to the chatter that gradually increased as more students trickled in. Most of it passed from one ear to another until she came upon talk regarding the new student.

Brooke almost forgot about her.

“So there’s really a new student coming today?”

“Yeah, I saw her enter the Principal’s Office.”

“What does she look like?”

“She seems familiar, I just don’t remember from where. Pink-dyed hair and Asian. Very pretty.”

“Ooh,”

“I also heard Shangela was coming back!”

“Why? Is she repeating a year or something?”

“Idiot, no. She’s gonna work here I think.”

“Damn—wait, that means Laganja’s back in town too?”

“Ms. Del Rio is gonna shit bricks. Thankfully she’s not a student anymore. Do you remember that smackdown when she was in second year?”

The Edwards were coming back? Well this was news indeed. Alyssa had been Brooke’s previous dance teacher and she owned the studio that Katya taught her in. She trained ballet with one of Alyssa’s adopted daughters Laganja, who was a year older than her. They moved somewhere during Brooke’s first year of college. Her spirits lifted at the thought of reuniting with her previous teacher.

Just then, Ms. Visage came in with a girl in tow, her pink hair styled into waves. She had long lashes and wore a touch of make-up. She wasn’t pretty—she was gorgeous.

She also looked very familiar.

“Xin chào các bạn, I’m Plastique Tiara. I studied here shortly during first year and now I’m back,” she smiled hesitantly.

Oh flip.

Plastique.

Plastique?

[tbc]

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lubdubsworld · 7 years

Text

Taekook fic.

I wrote this at 2.00 Am. So obviously it’s shitty.

Taehyung watched him from across the room, his easy smile lighting up the place as he walked around, accepting felicitations and offering hugs. Jung kook looked as handsome as ever and Tae noticed he was wearing his black tuxedo.

his favorite.

As Tae watched, Jung kook moved into his line of vision and his eyes met his. Tae watched his gaze falter, but only for a second. And then Tae was moving towards him, meaningless words dripping off his tongue like molten honey, even as Tae hugged him. His shirt felt soft and warm underneath his fingers and Tae had to curl his fingers to stop himself from spreading them on his strong torso. Jung Kook held him gently, preciously, his fingers barely touching him as Tae placed a light air kiss near his cheek.

what a gentleman, the women around him probably thought. And they’re right.

Jung Kook is a gentleman. Most of the time.

Jung Kook hugs Taehyung like he’s a porcelain doll. But he fucks him like Tae’s made of steel and he wants to find out how far Taehyung could bend without breaking.

Not that Tae’s complaining.

That stunning difference between his pubic persona and the one he uses in the bedroom is something Taehyung enjoy immensely. It makes things fun.

The flash of cameras made things difficult but out of the corner of his eye, Taehyung caught a glimpse of Jung Kook’s soon-to-be wife, the beautiful Eun Ha.

. She looked radiant and almost incandescent in the ivory light. She was dressed in midnight blue, diamonds glittering on her neck and wrists as she smiled like the newly wed she was. Tae knows that he himself looked a lot more innocent than she does, what with his chic creamy white sweater and white jeans.

But Tae’s not that innocent.

Ask her fiance.

i shouldn’t be so casual about jung Kook getting married. I should be upset , but I’m not.

It was probabaly because he knew that Jung Kook belonged to him in all the ways that mattered.

“You’re a ruthless bastard. It scares me, the way you smile and laugh with her, while banging her husband on the side. ” Jimin said quietly, his eyes dancing with accusation as Tae leaned closer to him. Taehyung grinned lazily.

Park Jimin was his best friend but he was so boringly sincere. He was terrible at flirting and innuendos, always preferring talks and dinners and conversation over sex.

Tae found the attitude a bit of a drag.

Because honestly, sex is the most honest conversation you could have. You can’t connect on such a raw level without feeling something genuine. Something that can be quantified in sighs and moans and pants and lost breaths and skipped heart beats.

“Jung Kook looks happy. She looks happy and I am just as happy. So what’s the problem? ” Taehyung smiled .

“even so, MC ing at the reception dinner?? You’re a bit too much. ” Jimin said gruffly and Tae linked his fingers with his best friend.

“you’re in a mood, aren’t you?? What say we go to your room tonight and I’ll get some of this tension off your chest. ” Tae said, only slightly joking.

Jimin was hot and sexy and it wouldn’t exactly be a chore to loosen him up a bit.

I know what you’re thinking.

What a slut. He wants to sleep with both of them.

Not true at all. Tae wasn’t planning on sleeping with either of them . Jimin because Jimin would want to ‘take things to the next level’ as in a relationship and Tae doesn’t do relationships. and Jung Kook… well .

Before Tae could reply, gentle fingers found his wrist, lightly tugging his hands away. Tae smelled him before he saw him. His unique cologne mixed with the musky scent of clean male skin and freshly washed hair. His voice is just as unique , a kind of rough baritone that seems just at home barking orders as it is whispering obscenities in his ear.

“Jung Kook ssi… ” Tae smiled wide and bowed respectfully. Tae noticed that his pupils were a little wide, making his pulse quicken.

Jung Kook was hard.

Taehyung could feel it. He could sense it from across the two or three feet between them and he knew Jung kook wasn’t having any qualms about sleeping with him tonight. In fact Taehyung could tell that the other man was imagining it already, the way his gaze lingered on the slight sliver of skin that showed over his pretty white sweater.

Not today, a voice in his head whispered. For god’s sake the man is getting married tomorrow.

It’s not hard having an affair in their circle. There are enough hotels and enough night clubs to provide cover. But Jung Kook didn’t play by those roles. He wasn’t sneaky and he didn’t try to wine or dine Taehyung.

Instead Jung Kook showed up when he felt like it, took what he wanted and left immediately after.

“He’s only using you. ” Jimin often told him. But it wasn’t really. Normal rules never applied to them, throughout the length of their relationship. So what if Jung Kook was in love with someone else?

Tae wasn’t in love with him either.

Tae didn’t doodle their names on a piece of paper and draw hearts around it. He didn’t try to monopolize his time and he never ever called his phone. Jung Kook was a wonderful man and a wonderful friend and he was in love with Eunha.

When Jung Kook spoke about his wife, his face lights up in a way that captivated Taehyung.

But with him…. well, it really wasn’t anything sentimental.

Jung Kook and Tae, they just fit together. Like they were both made from the same magical things that makes people. Like parts of him were inside Jung Kook and parts of Jung Kook were in him and they just jumped at the chance to come together and become one, the way they were meant to be.

If you’ve watched them together you’d agree. There’s camaraderie . There’s chemistry. But there’s also something else.

Something that makes the most mundane brush of fingers seem like an erotically charged gesture.

It comes out on screen only because they fed it in real life.

Jung Kook moved closer and Tae felt him push something into his hand. A quick turnover in his hand told him it was a hotel room card.

Tae felt his heart drop to his knees. One of their rules had been, never in front of anyone else. And never in public.

“Jung Kookie … ” Tae whispered in an undertone, acutely aware that cameras were still flashing around them. What was he doing?

Jung Kook didn’t reply, instead he was moving away to the centre, looping his arms through his fiancee’s . Taehyung blinked in confusion. This wasn’t right.

“Napeun Sekki… ” Jimin muttered under his breath, glaring daggers at Jung Kook’s back. Tae frowned at him. he felt irrationally protective of Jung Kook sometimes.

Tae didn’t want to hurt him.

But this… This seemed a bit too much.

An hour later ,the crowd thinned and Eunha left early, laughing about getting her beauty sleep and kissing Jung Kook fervently.

The knot in Taehyung’s stomach intensified.

As the last of the crowd left, Taehyung glanced at the card slowly. The words knocked the breath out of him. It wasn’t a hotel. It was the card to a resort.

The resort where they had first slept together.

“You’re really going to do this? ” Seo Joon shook his head in disbelief.

This was Jung Kook after all. How could Taehyung deny him??

Jung Kook was sitting on the bed, a glass of scotch in his hand as he reclined against the headboard, his shoes still on and his jacket flung carelessly on the floor. Taehyung shrugged out of his coat, left his wallet on the table and automatically picked up his coat, smoothed it out and hung it in the closet.

Like a wife.

For some reason, the thought was so revolting that Taehyung had to swallow bile.

“why are we here? ” Tae said casually. Jung Kook stayed quiet, looking at him with his heavy lidded gaze till Tae finally gave in. Moving closer to him , Tae sat on the edge of the bed, taking Jung Kook’s shoes and socks off slowly while Jung Kook watched him.

“I’m sorry.” Jung Kook said finally.

Taehyung felt his entire body freeze.

“don’t you dare apologize. Don’t turn me into something pathetic by apologizing.” he said, his voice shaking tremulously. Jung Kook sighed and then held his arm out. He went grudgingly, his mind still refusing to process all the emotions that clamored to be heard.

Jung Kook held him for a second, then kissed the side of his neck.

It was an old and familiar routine , as familiar as the steady ebb and flow of water on a river bank. his fingers, gently pulling tracing circles on the edge of his collarbone while his left arm lay heavy and languid around him. Taehyung stared across at the opposite wall, where a tall mirror showed them reflected in casual intimacy. he let his eyes trace a triangle over his broad shoulders and the tapering strength of his hips, watching the sleek lines of his legs even as Jung Kook kept him imprisoned between the strength of his thighs. Jung Kook sat up straighter and placed a wet open kiss on his shoulder, tongue tracing circle on the skin.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror. ” Jung Kook whispered. “ Imagine it’s a television screen. what if we were to broadcast this on MBC tonight? Do you think I’ll still have to get married tomorrow?” He said , laughing .

Tae let out a surprised laugh. He couldn’t help it. The prospect of such a thing happening was so… horrible.

“And if it were, what would you be comfortable showing them?” Jung Kook tugged his zipper down, baring his body to his eyes. Taehyung felt his body quiver a little. Both from the way Tae blew air on his exposed skin and from the implication of his words.

“Would you suck me off?” Jung Kook said softly, tracing the edge of his ears. Tae felt heat rise up through his body.

“Kookie…stop.” He said softly, shaking his head in embarassment. In the mirror Taehyung could see his cheeks darken with a combination of embarassment and arousal. He sank back further against him .

“What? I’m just curious.. Would you?” He snipped his cheek and then turned his chin up for a kiss. It was wet and erotic, the way his tongue thrust in and out in imitation of something far more intimate . Tae pulled back when it became too much, panting a little. Behind him, Tae heard the clink of Jung Kook unbuckling his belt , his fingers working with practised ease as he pulled his belt out of the loops and tossed it on the floor.

“you still haven’t replied.” Jung Kook said casually, tossing him down and straddling him, his hips framing Taehyung’s torso, the hardness of his erection pressing into the softness of his stomach as Jung Kook pulled his clothes off him . Tae smiled and sat up, easily reaching for Jung Kook’s zipper and pulling him out , enjoying the way Jung Kook hissed in pleasure. Hee reached forward and grabbed his hair, long enough for him to get him fully out, losing no time to put his lips on him.

Jung Kook tasted tangy and rough and so painfully familiar, from the texture of his skin like silk on steel to the way his fingers gripped his hair just a little too tight for comfort and just a little short of violent. Tae moaned in disappointment when Jung Kook pulled out a little , but only to lean himself against the headboard for support. Bracing himself against the headboard, Jung Kook threaded both his hands through his hair and thrust his hips gently, pushing past his teeth and deeper into his mouth . Tae pulled him out on each inhale, trying to keep his gag reflex down as he took his entire length inside his hot wet mouth. A few minutes later, Jung Kook grabbed his head and shoved in deep, coming hard and fast against the back of his throat.

Tae sat up without wiping his mouth, knowing how much it turned Jung Kook on to see his cum dripping down the side of his lips. Jung Kook groaned and chuckled, gathering him close and kissing the top of his head

“I think you just sucked the life out of me, baby.” he said , breathing deeply.

“Give me a second and I’ll repay the favor..” Jung Kook whispered hotly into his ear, already moving to push him on his back. Tae laughed at the predatory look on his eye.

yes, Jung Kook was no gentleman in the bedroom and that suited him just fine.

#taekook #bts vkook #vkook scenario #bts scenarios #bts taehyung #taehyung #jungkook

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