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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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If You Ever Wanna Be in Love (I'll Come Around), Chapter Eight {FINAL} (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: After realizing her feelings, Brooke calls Vanessa, but she doesn’t answer Now: Their happy ending

A/N:The last chapter is here! Thank you all so much to everyone that has read along with this one! Your support has meant so much to me and the comments I’ve gotten really mean a lot. I’d love to hear what you think about the end! Thank you so, so, so much to Writ. I couldn’t have done this without you and I appreciate you so much, you’re the best. I’m really gonna miss this one. Thank you all for sharing it with me.

“Pick up,” Brooke begs, pacing her office, “Pick up, please.”

This call is her last chance to fix things, and each ring that Vanessa doesn’t answer makes Brooke’s stomach clench tighter, like a giant fist is squeezing her. There’s plenty of reasons Vanessa might not answer. She could be busy, or have her phone on silent. But Brooke can’t stop thinking Vanessa is ignoring her purposely, ignoring the apology and feelings Brooke is so desperate to share.

The call goes to voicemail, that robotic voice telling her to leave her message after the beep, and Brooke falters. She had planned on Vanessa answering, having something to go off. Even just knowing Vanessa was listening on the other end would have been a comfort, rather than sending her words into empty space. But it’s just her now, and even if Vanessa never listens to this, Brooke has to try.

She takes a breath, adjusts her sweaty grip on the phone. “Hey, Vanessa, it’s me. Brooke. Um, I know things aren’t great with us right now and you have every right to hate me, but the exhibit opens tonight and it…it would mean a lot to have you here. If you want to.” Brooke sighs. This isn’t enough, she knows it, and it’s her only shot. “Vanessa, I–I’ve been thinking. And I know I panicked when you tried to kiss me, but I was just scared, and now I know I shouldn’t have been. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I…I love you, Vanessa. I hope I can see you tonight. Bye.”

She numbly pulls the phone from her ear and ends the message. That’s it. It’s done now, in Vanessa’s hands. Brooke should feel relieved, but she just feels sick. Though the prospect of public speaking could be what’s tying her stomach in knots. It’s always like this when she presents, her muscles tight with terror of making a fool of herself in front of people, mind racing with ways they’ll judge her. But she’s talking about something she loves, something she knows better than anything, and once she gets out there and starts, her passionate bravado will take over. It’s the getting out there that’s the hard part.

She leaves the warm safety of her office and heads out into the museum. Everything looks perfect, just how she imagined it. There’s a huge dinosaur banner streaming across the auditorium entrance and folding tables outside, bearing punch and water and cookies and the giant cake with a T-Rex piped in dark green frosting on the top. Hundreds of people–she’s reached the turnout she wanted, and her funding should be secure–mill about, whispering in front of the velvet cloth covering the T-Rex skull, wondering about the fierce predator underneath.

“How’re you doing, Brooke?” There’s Nina, and Brooke’s chest loosens a little. At least she has Nina. Her parents are coming, and her sister’s bringing the kids, and it’s enough to have them, even if Vanessa is missing. Brooke can pretend, at least.

“Okay,” she says. “A lot better than when I had to practice speeches on you for that public speaking class in college.”

Nina smiles, gives a fake shudder. “Lord, don’t remind me. That professor really made you do a speech on gas prices that I had to listen to with my own ears.”

Brooke grins back, some of her nerves melting away, though it doesn’t last for long when Nina’s face falls serious again and her voice drops.

“And the Vanessa situation?”

“Working on it,” Brooke says. Brooke filled her in on everything, and it calms her to know Nina is behind her all the way, that she has a friend to help her out. “Um, can you let me know if you see her?”

“Of course.” Nina pats Brooke’s arm, looks at her warmly, and Brooke rounds through the lobby, putting on her professional business Brooke persona and talking to donors and board members, their praise making her flush with pride. She really did it, and she won’t have to fire anyone or scrape for funding. She keeps going until it’s five minutes to her speech and everyone is inside. Nina comes over to her, and Brooke knows the answer from her face, but she asks anyway.

“She’s not here, is she?”

Nina bites her lip and pulls Brooke into a hug instead of answering.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s fine,” Brooke chokes out, but everything is falling apart around her. She wants to say it’s a mistake, that Nina just missed Vanessa and she’s down in the front row, but she knows Nina’s right. Vanessa’s not here, which means Brooke’s grand romantic plan won’t work. She blew it, and Vanessa is gone for good. Her vision is turning blurry. She forces the tears back in. Maybe Vanessa didn’t listen to the message yet, or maybe she needs more time. Or maybe she hates you, a dark voice mocks in Brooke’s mind. Maybe she erased your message. Brooke can’t even blame her for that.

“Brooke, I know you wanted her to be here, but don’t let this ruin things for you. This is a big night and you’ve worked so hard for it.”

Brooke nods, not wanting to hear her voice crack. How can she give her speech when she can’t even manage words?

“You’re gonna be amazing out there.” Nina’s hands are steady on Brooke’s shoulders as she offers encouragement, and Brooke breathes with her, nodding when she’s okay.

“I’m good,” Brooke insists. She adjusts her shoulders and stands up straight. “I’ll see you after.”

Nina nods. “Good luck.”

Brooke heads to the auditorium stage, cringing until she adjusts to the spotlights. She wishes she could look into the crowd and see Vanessa’s face to anchor her, just to know she’s there. But she sees her parents, and it has to be enough. The place is packed, not a seat open, and new tears spring in Brooke’s eyes. All through high school she was told that going into paleontology was a waste, that she should pick a field with more secure jobs. A field people actually care about. Tonight, the hundreds of expectant faces before her prove that people do care, that her passion isn’t a waste.

She takes the podium from the museum director, hesitating a split-second over abandoning her opening joke (What do you call a dinosaur that’s a loud sleeper?). She ran all her options by Vanessa and went with Vanessa’s favorite, and it’s almost too painful to do it, Vanessa’s laugh echoing in her ears. But she nails the pun (A tyranno-snore-us) and the erupting laughter tells her it was the right choice.

Brooke waits for the laughs to die down, takes a breath, and begins her speech.

—

Vanessa loses track of how many times she’s heard the word ‘Flavortown’ tonight when the phone rings again. It’s Brooke, and Vanessa’s heart skips a beat. She reminds herself she’s angry, but her resolve is wavering, worn thin by hours of sitting here, trying not to think of the exhibit she was missing, or the new voicemail burning a hole in her phone.

What’s the harm in answering? Maybe she should answer, give Brooke a piece of her mind. One last telling-off to really end things and help her move on. She accepts the call before she can keep arguing with herself.

“What do you want?” She has to stay strong, can’t give an inch here.

She hears Brooke breathe on the other end. “I missed you at the exhibit.”

“Why would I go? I don’t owe you anything.” A clean break, Vanessa reminds herself. She needs to move on. She can’t get hurt again.

“I know. I just…I wanted you there. I miss you.” Brooke’s hurt, Vanessa hears it in her voice. Hurt in a way Vanessa’s never heard before, hurt in a way she imagined Brooke was as a kid, left out of games with the other kids. She shouldn’t care that Brooke is this upset, but she does.

Because she misses Brooke too, has missed her all week even through her anger. She missed being able to text Brooke and tell her about the mysterious pacifier that appeared on the library carpet and disappeared overnight. She missed setting up weekend plans with Brooke, searching for fun things they could do. She missed Brooke’s smile and her snort-laugh.

“Did it go okay?” Vanessa asks. That coldness she started with is rapidly thawing and she can’t keep it up when Brooke sounds so sad, so lonely. The memories are rushing in no matter how hard she fights, and she can’t be this mean to the woman who brought her coffee and tried so hard to win her a stupid stuffed animal.

“Yeah. It was great.” There’s an awkward pause, and Vanessa detects something Brooke is hesitant to say.

“What else?” Vanessa prompts.

“Um, I got an award,” Brooke says quietly. “It’s from the state, for kids’ programs I did. It was a surprise.”

“Shit, I—I’m sorry I missed it.” She really is sorry, the burst of regret running through her. She can imagine how happy Brooke was, how much it meant to her, and she’ll never be able to do anything but imagine. Because she wasn’t there for Brooke. Something so important to someone that was (is?) so important to her, and she wasn’t there.

“It’s fine.” The defeat in Brooke’s voice jumps through the phone, and Vanessa can practically see her shoulders slump. “Like you said, you don’t owe me anything.”

Vanessa bites her lip, fighting the dampness that pools in her eyes. She hates being mean like this, hates knowing she hurt Brooke, even if Brooke hurt her first and has it coming. But what can she do? It would be stupid to try a relationship again, hurt her heart once more. “Brooke, I–”

“It’s fine.” Brooke repeats. “I, um, I left you a voicemail. I don’t know if you’ve listened to it, but if you want to…”

“I haven’t yet,” Vanessa admits. She shouldn’t listen to it. She knows she shouldn’t. Brooke doesn’t love her, so what could she have said? It’ll only make Vanessa hurt worse. But why does she want to end the call this second and listen to it? “I…I gotta go, okay?”

She hangs up before Brooke can say anything else, then switches to voicemail, her heart pounding. The little red notification glares at her, judging her for leaving the message unheard.

She presses play, and Brooke’s voice makes her heart swell.

“Hey, Vanessa, it’s me. Brooke.”

That dork, Vanessa thinks fondly. Only Brooke would introduce herself on a voicemail with her name and number linked to it. Never mind that Vanessa would know that voice anywhere.

“Um, I know things aren’t great with us right now and you have every right to hate me, but the exhibit opening is tonight and it…it would mean a lot to have you there. If you want to.”

Shit. Vanessa’s supposed to stay strong, not let this bother her, but she can’t be that mean. Brooke had called her practically begging her to go, to share this with her, and Vanessa wasn’t there. Brooke went to that stupid carnival for her, and she missed one of the biggest nights of Brooke’s career to sit home and sulk. Tears prickle in her eyes and she frantically blinks them away as voicemail-Brooke sighs before continuing her message.

“Vanessa, I–I’ve been thinking. And I know I panicked when you tried to kiss me, but I was just scared, and now I know I shouldn’t have been. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I…I love you, Vanessa. I hope I can see you tonight. Bye.”

Vanessa’s shoulders heave with sobs, the phone slipping from her shaky hands and tumbling to the carpet. Brooke loves her. Brooke loves her, and Vanessa can’t stop crying. If only she had answered the damn phone. She could’ve gone to the museum. They could’ve talked it out. She could be in Brooke’s arms now.

What if she’s ruined everything? Brooke was heartbroken on the phone, and what if missing the exhibit made Brooke so upset she’s given up on Vanessa, given up on them? The thought of losing Brooke again, after coming so close, all because of an unanswered call, makes her boil with anger over her own stubbornness.

But can Vanessa trust her? Brooke went from terror over a kiss to loving her. What if next week she just wants to be friends again, says her feelings are a mistake? But she called and apologized, told Vanessa how she feels even when it must have terrified her, and there’s no denying the honesty in her voice. Brooke really loves her. Maybe she did just need time, like A’keria said.

Even as she tries to think things out, Vanessa’s heart knows the answer. She wants to be with Brooke more than anything. She wants to make a mess cooking with her every night, and go on picnics on the weekends, and stare up at the stars together. She wants to fall into bed with Brooke and sleep curled around her. She wants to see Brooke every day, to celebrate the good with her and comfort her through the bad. She loves Brooke and every bit of her dinosaur-loving, over-cautious, soft-hearted self. She loves Brooke, part and whole.

I hope I can see you tonight, Brooke had said.

Vanessa’s heart kicks into overdrive, her mind buzzing. It’s not too late. She can still see Brooke tonight. She needs a plan, she needs–she scrambles around the apartment, trading her dog pajamas for the gold dress she meant to wear tonight, fixing her hair. The museum gift shop is closed, but Target should have what she needs. She can do this.

A’keria comes out of her room, no doubt bothered by the noise Vanessa’s making.

“What the hell? Sounds like a herd of elephants out here…” Her gaze turns to Vanessa, and she smiles. “Go get your girl, V.”

Vanessa will.

—

Brooke’s parents insist on taking her to dinner, and she sits at the table and listens to them talk about how happy they are for her, how great things went.

Brooke should be happy. She is happy. She’s here with her family, and the exhibit went even better than she planned. The glass award she won is in the car, safely wrapped up in her old red hoodie, and she even got to bask in the sour-lemon expression on Greg’s face when the board chose him to present it to her. Tonight was everything she dreamed of and more, and she accomplished everything she wanted.

So why does it feel like something’s missing?

Or maybe it’s someone.

They’re at a table for four, and that single empty chair is staring at Brooke, its worn vinyl mocking her. She can’t help but picture Vanessa in it, making them all laugh.

There’s a platter of golden mozzarella sticks in front of Brooke, but they don’t taste as good as they should. The adrenaline and excitement from the night are vanishing, and she feels drained. Hollow, even. If she wasn’t here with her parents she’d go home and crawl into bed. What’s the point of all this if she doesn’t have someone special to share it with?

Being single has never bothered her. She celebrated internships and new jobs at dinners with her parents and at bars with Nina. She’s had occasional girlfriends, none that happened to be there for any major milestones. And she was fine with it. She didn’t need someone else to be happy, or have value, or say her accomplishments meant something. But she looks around the restaurant, sees couples upon couples at tables for two, holding hands and talking and splitting food, and it hurts. Hurts to see them happy with each other, having someone that would hopefully always be there.

She doesn’t need another person to live, but she wants one. Wants someone who’d be there for her whether she was happy or sick or sad. Someone she’d be there for in return. Someone who’d let her have alone time, but never let her be lonely again. Someone who would always love her, who she’d share these things with. But she ruined her chance.

Her brave face stays on until she’s back home, pulling into an empty parking spot, and she’s suddenly wracked with sobs, her whole body shaking. She’s in her empty car, with her empty self, and she’ll go into her empty apartment. And it will never change.

She’ll never have anyone like Vanessa. Vanessa is once in a lifetime, every romantic cliche come to life. But it’s true. Brooke will never find someone like her, someone who makes her happy just by existing, who understands her. Who loves–loved–her. But Brooke had pulled away when Vanessa put her heart on the line, and maybe she deserves to be lonely forever after what she did. Vanessa will move on, probably. Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to love her? She could already have someone new, already be moving on.

Jealousy burns in Brooke’s stomach as she moves up the stairs with a head full of images of someone else getting to see Vanessa’s smile, and it’s worse than the emptiness. Being numb was better, to not feel the sadness inside, to not hurt from loneliness.

She turns the corner–

It can’t be.

It just can’t be.

Brooke rubs at her eyes and even pinches her arm. This is a dream, it must be a dream.

“About time!” A raspy voice booms, and that voice is straight from Brooke’s dreams. “I look like a murderer standing out here!”

Heels click on the floor, and Brooke realizes she’s running. She’s running to her apartment and opening her arms as Vanessa burrows into them, burrows into that hole in Brooke’s heart and makes it complete again.

“Vanessa, you—,” Brooke can’t form a sentence.

Vanessa looks up at her, eyes glistening with tears.

“We need to talk,” she says gently.

— Brooke is still pinching herself as Vanessa sets bags on the couch.

Vanessa is here in the glittery gold dress they had picked out together, one Brooke didn’t think she’d see her in again. She’s here and Brooke doesn’t know if it’s because her feelings have changed, but she’s never been so beautiful.

The silence fills the whole living room, she and Vanessa staring at each other from their positions on the couch. As much as she’d like to just hug and kiss Vanessa, ignore what happened, Brooke knows they have to talk. She wipes sweaty hands on her thighs.

Vanessa clears her throat. “Brooke–”

“I’m sorry,” Brooke blurts. “Vanessa, I’m so sorry for what I did.”

Vanessa bites her lip. “Do you wanna talk about what happened? ‘Cause you panicked before and now you’re saying you’ve changed.” Vanessa’s not angry, just a little cautious. Brooke supposes it’s fair. Vanessa doesn’t want to take a chance and get hurt again.

“I…” Brooke takes a breath. “When you tried to kiss me, I panicked. We were just friends. I thought it would do more harm than good to kiss you. Because then things would change, and I didn’t want them to. I liked being your friend, and I didn’t think it was fair to lead you on if we were just friends.”

Vanessa nods. “Brooke, I…I realized I loved you after we stayed at your parents’. I wasn’t gonna say anything, but then I just had to, and you didn’t react how I wanted.” She smiles sadly. “But I understand where you’re coming from. And I should’ve talked about it before I tried to make out with you.”

Brooke gives Vanessa a shy smile. “It took me some time,” she admits. “I talked to my mom, and I realized I like you as more than a friend. I love you, Vanessa.”

Even though she said it on the phone, it’s different to say it now, with Vanessa’s wide eyes taking her in, her hand reaching over. Brooke squeezes it with her own, takes in Vanessa’s hands and how special they are, from the paper cut on one finger likely from a craft, to the shiny red nails and soft palms. Holding Vanessa’s hand shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels more intimate than a kiss, like she’s holding a piece of Vanessa. Brooke’s heart warms that Vanessa trusts her with this piece after everything, and she holds on tight.

“I love you too, Brooke.” Vanessa’s eyes sober a second. “But are you sure about this? I…I kinda need to make sure you’re in this all the way. I don’t want to push you, and I don’t want to get hurt again.”

Brooke breathes slowly. “The truth is, I haven’t been in a real relationship for a while. I’ve never had anything too serious, either. It’s a little scary to me,” she says quietly. “But I want to. With you. I really do. And I promise I won’t hurt you again.”

“I won’t ever hurt you either,” Vanessa says, ringing with sincerity. “It doesn’t have to be scary. We’ll have each other.”

The thought gives Brooke a rush of courage, enough to keep going. “Would you be okay with things being really slow?”

Vanessa isn’t someone who questions her feelings. She’s someone who knows relationships, knows love. Brooke doesn’t want to ruin that for her with her own fear of things moving too fast, her uncertainty at navigating a serious relationship.

Vanessa nods firmly. “We can go as slow as you want, okay? Especially after this fake dating shit, I think going slow is exactly what we need.”

Brooke smiles hopefully. “Maybe we could start with a real date?”

Vanessa grins. “You got it. How about a little make-up for tonight?” She pauses, creeps in closer toward Brooke. Suddenly, her lips rest on Brooke’s cheek, and Brooke’s whole face burns. Vanessa’s kiss is delicate, like she’s afraid to hurt Brooke, and she pulls away quickly, eyes frightened.

“Brooke, was that okay?”

Brooke doesn’t answer, but puts her lips on Vanessa’s. It’s not their first kiss, but it’s the first one that’s real; the first one that’s just them, no acting. Brooke opens her eyes a second and sees Vanessa’s eyes fluttering as she melts under the kiss. Brooke’s heart races in her chest and Vanessa’s breath is similarly hitched. The living room lights hit Vanessa perfectly, and forget seeing her in the dress—this is the most beautiful Vanessa has ever looked, blissful and dreamy. Brooke lets her hands cup Vanessa’s cheeks, feels that they’re just as hot as her own, and she waits for Vanessa to pull away first, because Brooke won’t back out of a kiss with Vanessa ever again.

“Definitely okay,” Brooke says. She leans back on the couch and jostles the bags, making Vanessa leap up and grab them.

“I almost forgot! These are for you.”

Brooke takes the items and stifles a laugh. A stuffed T-Rex, a tiny model rocket ship, and two cupcakes with astronaut food sprinkled on top. A childhood museum gift shop-raid come to life. She throws a hand over her mouth, certain she’ll cry.

“Vanessa, I love them. Thank you so much.”

Vanessa smiles, but she seems sad. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for your award. I was just upset, and I didn’t want to go and keep falling in love with you. But I should’ve been there.”

Brooke takes Vanessa’s hands again, running her thumb over her skin. “It’s okay. I understand. And Nina filmed everything like a dance mom at her child’s recital, so you can watch the video.” She takes a breath, takes a chance. “You know, I had this big treasure hunt planned for if you came.”

Vanessa’s eyes widen. “You didn’t!”

“I did. I was gonna send you through the museum and be waiting for you at the end.” She still wishes she could have done it, a big gesture from the movies Vanessa loves so much. But things have worked out, and Brooke wouldn’t change a thing. Vanessa is here next to her, and that’s all that matters. Besides, the map is still safe in her purse, and maybe someday she’ll need it.

Vanessa swats her. “Well, now I want a treasure hunt!” Her pout tries to look angry, but it just makes her even cuter.

Brooke grins. “I’ll save it. After all, we’re gonna need date ideas.”

Vanessa smiles back. “Yeah, we are. Let’s see, there’s a movie in the park next weekend, and a new exhibit at the art museum, and maybe we can get a reservation at that Italian place–”

“Slow down!” Brooke giggles. “We have plenty of time for all of it, okay?”

“We do,” Vanessa agrees. “Tonight, I want to eat these cupcakes and hear all about your speech.” She reaches to the cupcakes and hands Brooke the vanilla one, taking the red velvet for herself. She wipes away the frosting Brooke gets on her nose, and Brooke warms under the touch.

“Well, the joke was a big hit–”

“–I told you!” Vanessa yells.

She nestles against Brooke, a perfect fit, and Brooke knows this is what love feels like.

—

“Are you sure your family will like me?” Brooke picks at her sweater cuff, and Vanessa won’t let her be nervous.

She strokes Brooke’s arm, heart swelling when Brooke stills instantly at her touch. “They’re gonna love you. Promise.”

Brooke nods, swaying along to the radio as Vanessa drives. It’s the same playlist Vanessa made for their first trip together, and she knows Brooke is lost in the memories like she is.

Memories of the pumpkin patch they visited last month, when they stuffed themselves with cider donuts and got stuck in the corn maze for an hour before finally escaping in fits of laughter. Memories of their Halloween together, with Vanessa as Evelyn and Brooke as Rick from The Mummy, with lots of candy and kisses. (Brooke’s already working on their Jurassic Park costumes for next year). Even the memory of when Vanessa helped Brooke make an apple pie, their buttery hands brushing as they rolled out dough, making such a mess with the flour that Apollo was more white than gray.

It’s been three months of pure joy, of dates and dinners and conversations where Vanessa’s gotten to know Brooke all over again. They’ve had movie marathons and make out sessions and played games through grocery store aisles, and every time Vanessa looks at Brooke, she can’t believe how lucky she is. Can’t believe they’re together, after all the twists and turns to get here.

She peeks over at Brooke, in the green sweater that matches her eyes, a hopeful smile on her face, and Vanessa knows she wouldn’t change a thing about their relationship.

Vanessa pulls into her parents’ driveway and takes Brooke’s hand. “You good?”

Brooke’s a little pale, but she smiles. “I’m good.”

“Let’s do it.” Vanessa leads her up the driveway, and she can’t believe this is finally happening. After fantasizing about this for so long, thinking it would never happen, she’s bringing Brooke home to her family, letting Brooke meet the people who mean so much to her. It’s one of many firsts they’re sure to have, and Vanessa’s heart swells every time she thinks of what their future holds. And maybe, just maybe, that treasure hunt proposal is in the future some day. But for now, she has Brooke, and she doesn’t need anything else.

“Vanessa!” Vanessa is in a bone-crushing hug with her mother before she can prepare for it, squeezing back just as tight. Her mom only pulls away when Vanessa moans about suffocation. Her mom turns to Brooke, and Vanessa watches Brooke tense at first, then loosen.

“Mrs. Mateo, I’m��“

“You’re Brooke!”

Vanessa’s mom wraps Brooke in a squeeze even tighter than the one she gave Vanessa.

“All right, Mom, you’re gonna crush my woman!” Vanessa laughs, rubbing Brooke’s back when she’s released. Brooke’s smile overtakes her whole face, like she didn’t mind being squashed. Like she’s truly happy to be here, loving this glimpse of Vanessa’s family.

“She can handle a big hug from me. I can tell.” Vanessa’s mom winks at Brooke, and Brooke’s cheeks turn soft pink. “And call me Annabelle, none of that Mrs. Mateo nonsense.”

Brooke grins. “Of course.”

They follow her mom in and there’s Vanessa’s dad and brother, and her nieces screaming while her nephew runs around, and Vanessa doesn’t have to worry about Brooke getting scared and running away. Because Brooke knows these parts of her and loves her for them.

“This is Brooke, everyone.” Vanessa does the introductions, watching her family take Brooke in with wide eyes.

“Now, how did you two get together again?” Her mom asks.

Vanessa smirks as Brooke lets out a snort. They lock eyes and erupt into laughter, laughter tinged with disbelief of what happened yet all the certainty that it’s real, that their love is real, and always will be.

“It’s a long story.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #akeria davenport #nina west #branjie #lesbian au #fake dating au #if you ever wanna be in love #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission #s11

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sohytes · 5 years ago

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UM THE BRANJIE OCEANS 8 AU?! Write that PLEASE

gonna be real: wanted to write a little summary of what i had in mind and actually ended up writing a whole ass multi-chaptered concept so it's probably gonna happen and i dont want to spoiler it, so here's the light version:

Vanessa is a high class thief, we talking Ocean's 8 all in one little bitch, she owns a night club and she's the most important criminal of the city, everybody is at her feet, but she has a very weak spot for the ladies and would never dare to hurt one.

Brooke is a detective, FBI, something, we talking lesbian Jim Gordon from Gotham. High morals, seemingly the only incorruptible one left.

I'm just saying but from the stuff I've written it sounds great and I'm very excited 🤗 let me know if you would like to read it

#is that a gun or did you finally bring the strap

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theartificialdane · 5 years ago

Note

Wait B is staying at jasons at the moment?

I love being Branjie central, but I think you guys are forgetting that I’m on Europe time and therefor always horribly behind on any and all news, haha.

Detective anons 🕵🏼‍♂️ have noticed that in the video of Brooke catwalking her Emmy look, it seems like he’s outside Jasons apartments.

But there are also the Follow Me Around videos, that were filmed in 2018, where you see that Brooke and Vanjie are staying together at Jasons if you watch Mayhems Follow me!

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purecamp · 8 years ago

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fic masterlist!

a collection of every rpdr i have ever written! contains much shalaska, some shillam, some witney, and dribs and drabs of branjie and taywhora

Oneshots

Sharon fucking Needles - sharon drunk texts alaska, who tells her to get her shit together if she wants to get back together. so that’s what she does.

Conflicted - (au) aaron’s conflicted because he has a secret: he’s a drag queen. little does he know, his boyfriend justin is conflicted too, for the same reason: he’s also a drag queen. one night in a bar, they find out the other’s secret.

Dead Girls Never Say No - after listening to the lyrics written about her in alaska’s bitch track ‘The T’, sharon is understandably upset. fame hardened alaska to the point where she feels like an emotionless dead girl, but as the song goes, dead girls never say no.

Would You Be So Kind - justin feels funny, and he feels funny because he’s in love. aaron feels funny, and he also feels funny because he’s in love. based off the dodie clark song

Vera Amoris - (au) alaska’s a brand new witch in town, who doesn’t know the other witches yet. after getting tricked by the evil phi phi to drink a potion she shouldn’t drink, jinkx rushes her to the town potion master, sharon, for help.

Soulmate - justin believes that in life, you have more than one soulmate, but each of your soulmates stay with you forever. so it still hurts when your first soulmate dies too young.

Weird - (au) alaska finds out her asshole boyfriend is cheating on her, and promptly breaks up with him. however, she’s left with a problem: she has no money, her phone is dead and broken, and she’s lost. a hooker by the name of sharon needles comes to the rescue, which in alaska’s eyes is frankly? a little weird.

Two Hearts and a Home - pure fluff and romance ensues in early december, when justin enlists the help of his lazy boyfriend aaron to put up the christmas tree.

Say Cheese! - sharon won’t smile for a picture. alaska is determined that, anyway she can, she will get the bitch to fucking smile.

Ferris Wheel - it’s not shalaska it’s witney. willam has a date perfectly planned out for courtney, but she ruins it by insisting they go on the fair down at the beach. willam totally isn’t afraid of heights, the ferris wheel doesn’t bother her at all.

Did You Miss Me Enough To Drink Or Did You Drink Enough To Miss Me? - sharon drinks far too much and sometimes can’t stop saying what’s on her mind. alaska doesn’t know if she misses her enough to drink, or if she simply drank enough to miss her. she never finds out.

Lost and Found - (au) it’s been five weeks since alaska went missing from her college, which she attended with girlfriend sharon and best friend jinkx. then, out on a walk at one in the morning, sharon finds her.

Turn Off The Lights - every time alaska calls, sharon answers. she swears she’s going to give her up, but she never does. she’s taking every chance she’s got, like the man she knows she’s not. based off the song by panic! at the disco.

Sensible - after falling for shea during the filming of drag race, sasha isn’t sure she’s made a particularly sensible decision, and a little fight ensues.

Mine And Yours - (au) stealing each other’s clothes goes from a fun little game to all-out war. alaska, naturally, intends on winning.

Hush Little Baby - (au) new parent alaska is left at home with her baby girl whilst her wife sharon goes out to work. the problem? alaska is convinced the sniffles and sneezes are something much worse than they actually are.

A-B-C-D-E-F-G - (au) alaska goes to her friend willam’s house for what she thinks is a halloween party. to her surprise, the “party” is more of a seance to chat with a guest who turns out to have more than a little bit of affection for one of the players.

Finding You - witney, in which the infamous willam and courtney fight is explored, and perhaps the root of it all is jealousy?

Piano Wire - (au) collab with @laskathunderfun - a dark sided piece based off of sharon’s song “piano wire” in which aaron is a murderer

Weather Girl - (au) alaska, a brand new weather girl, is a small fish in a big pond of tv news. sharon is the host.

As Long As You’re Mine - (au) inspired by wicked. sharon is always the bad one next to hilarious and well loved katya. for the first time, sharon does something that makes her feel as wicked as they say she is.

She Calls Me Your Highness - (au) the princess willam has a complicated relationship with young serving maid sharon.

What Do You Know About Love? - (au) sharon and willam are boarding school students and best friends who disagree, fundamentally, on their idea of what love is. eventually, they come to an understanding.

My Frankenstein - (au) mad scientist sharon is working on bringing her second creation to life while her first, alaska, watches. halloween fun and my first ever smut!

The Land Of The Midnight Sun - (au) sharon wants to escape from the world and live where no one will ever find her again. she meets another lost soul who helps her to do so, and she and alaska reflect on how the world got so dark just for loving girls.

(Less Than) A Thousand Miles - (au) with the world in lockdown, alaska begins working from home, and makes a new friend over zoom who begins to brighten her world again.

Strangers - (au) sharon isn’t gay, even if she does hook up with this girl all the time, drunk or sober. she’s not. she swears.

Things That Were - (au) it’s christmas, and brooke reflects on everything that went wrong with vanessa during the awkward transition between xmas and new year.

Someone I Genuinely Love (au) - uni students tayce and a’whora attend lawrence’s house party, when an argument breaks out between a’whora and tia. even the bitch needs some love sometimes.

Multi-chapters

Sharon and Phi Phi’s Bitch Of A Bucket List (discontinued) - the zombie apocalypse has finally happened, and everyone has different priorities. phi phi wants to survive. sharon wants to find alaska. the three of them stumble across their friend’s survival base and try to live their lives. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Party (complete) - jinkx’s halloween party goes wrong, leading sharon and alaska down a confusing road of drugs, admitting feelings, and hiding. just when things are going okay, it all goes drastically wrong. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Just The Two Of Us (in progress) - (au) hogwarts student alaska gets together with long-time crush and close friend, sharon, in the same year that the triwizard tournament begins. but her slytherin girlfriend harbours a dark past and the triwizard tournament may only be an obstacle in overcoming that. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14

Mean Queens (complete, collab with @thewritingnymph) - (au) mean girls crossover in which newbie russian, katya, joins a new school and befriends adore and ginger, who have spent most of their school lives being bulled by the three ‘mean queens’ who run the school. sharon, violet and alaska are life-ruiners. the three of them hatch a plan to take the mean queens down once and for all. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21

In Sickness and In Health (in progress) - (au) princess sharon is sick, and the king lets out a desperate appeal to save her: whoever will venture out to find the witch who can do it will recieve riches beyond their belief. however, the princess is inches from death and alaska isn’t sure she can get through it without sharon dying, the witch refusing, or even falling in love. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Bosom Buddies (in progress, collab with @thewritingnymph) - (au) based on the song bosom buddies, two new york-dwelling theatre sisters, alaska and jinkx, get a little more than they bargained for when the circus comes to town, bringing eccentric performers such as ivy winters and sharon needles into the mix. 1 - 2 - 3

Withstanding The Test Of Time (in progress) - (au) intern journalist hates many things, including her job, her coworkers, and the oppression from the government forcing you to marry your soulmate a month after your timer ticks down to zero. luckily, sharon has two years left. and then - she doesn’t. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Means Queens Ever After (collab with @thewritingnymph) - (au) the mean queens didnt die immediately after prom so here’s the rest of their lives lol. Girls Gone Camping - A Triple A Christmas - Violet’s Fashion Show - Some Things Never Change

Here I Go Again - (au) a mamma mia au in which trixie is getting married and decides to invite her three potential dads, much to her mom sharon’s chagrin. Prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - Epilogue Part 1 - Epilogue Part 2

(I Can Still Recall) Our Last Summer - (au) prequel to here i go again, following the life of young sharon as she meets three strangers who will change her life forever. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Case Closed - (au) inspired by b99, alaska is the best detective in the NYPD, of course. nothing will change that, not even the arrival of the stupidly named detective needles and her charm. 1 - 2

The Needles Family Values (discontinued) - (au, collab with aqcitrus) addams family inspired fic following the return of alaska’s unusual sister, katya, and the hijinks of the creepy, kooky, mysterious, spooky household. 1 - 2

#KAJHKJSKMDK #this made me want to kms #it took so long #fuck iinkjihsdujslkhis #shalaska #shillam #witney #branjie #taywhora #fic #artificialqueens

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tumble4rpdr · 5 years ago

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Now Brooke brought back the orange heart

Why are they doing this to us?

#i love/hate this #and why is vanjie the detective?#does that somehow explain the 🕵🏼‍♂️ emoji they always used?#brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #omg

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imalwaysaslutfordrag · 4 years ago

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I got tagged by the adorable @aqmarion <3

Post the doc titles in your WIP folder, have your followers send asks about titles that intrigue them, and answer with a description or a line from the project.

Bro, I have too many WIPs lol

Oneshots

Couples for Cash (Branjie)

Every Sinner Loves a Saint (Sashea)

Femme dom Jan (Jankie)

Immortals sitting in a coffee shop and talking about lost love

Mischeif and Mistletoe (Branjie)

Thymes A’ Changing (Branjie)

The Sun Never Sets in Aruba (Branjie)

Angel Methydoll

Catch in the Dark (Methydoll)

No One Bruises Me (Bob/Cracker)

The Long Con (Branjie)

hold me while you wait (for someone right) (Branjie)

Just a Little Bit of Life (Witney)

Gigi is cute poolboy and Crystal is hot mom (Crygi)

Chaptered

Criminal AU (Branjie)

Detective AU (Jankie)

Heavy is the Head (GoodeDoll)

In My Dying Days (Branjie)

The Stoplight (Branjie)

Whiskey Girls (Branjie)

BN (S12)

[Redacted Series]

[Redacted Series] (Branjie)

Never Tasted Heaven (Methydoll)

A Marriage Most Foul (Bob/Cracker)

Fake Psychic Trixya

I’m tagging: @missjanjie @plastiquetiaras @pink-grapefruit-cafe @freykitten @phrynewrites @veronicasanders @artificialortega

#WIP list #I have too many wips #mac speaks #shut up mac #tag game

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imalwaysaslutfordrag · 4 years ago

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What if... hear me out... since they already both take place in the same universe in my head... what if I combine the Jankie Detective AU and the Branjie Criminal AU? Like one chapter jankie, next chapter focuses on branjie?

Or should they stay separate? Idk. Just a thought.

#mac cant resist a group fic lol #mac speaks #shut up mac

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imalwaysaslutfordrag · 4 years ago

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Hello friends! Update time!

We got two more BN fics left and my goal is to have them done by thanksgiving, so look forward to that.

I’m going to do my best to finish planning out Detective AU/Criminal AU (still not sure if I want to combine them) so I can have it ready to go by early 2021.

Whiskey Girls and HS AU Branjie are gonna be relatively short in terms of word count, so hopefully I can get them done in late December. (I promise I haven’t forgotten about them)

I have two other projects that I’m also hoping to have ready for 2021, but we’ll just see how it goes.

For those of you who don’t know, I started writing for a different fandom, which is why updates are a little more spread out than usual. But hopefully it’ll be better once school is done.

Love y’all.

Stay safe.

#mac speaks #shut up mac

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Mateo's Eight, chapter eight (Branjie)--athena2

Previously: The Mateo’s Eight succeeded in their heist Now: the aftermath

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support and feedback on this fic, it really makes me happy and has been cheering me up during isolation right now. I’d really appreciate it if you could leave some feedback on this chapter. Thank you Writ for being the best beta!

Read on AO3

Everything is soft and warm as Brooke blinks awake, the woman in her arms easing her pounding head.

Vanessa’s sleep-tangled hair tickles Brooke’s nose, the faint scent of her coconut shampoo soothing Brooke’s stomach, churning on nothing but wine. Vanessa stirs, rolling over to face Brooke. Even rubbing sleep from her eyes with a lion’s yawn, Vanessa still makes Brooke’s heart leap.

“Mornin’,” Vanessa whispers.

Brooke tries not to overthink, tries not to consider what she and Vanessa are right now. Her head hurts too much for anything beside Vanessa’s sleepy smile.

“Morning,” Brooke says. She brushes hair off Vanessa’s face, fingers ghosting over her cheek, smiling when Vanessa leans into the touch

“I should’ve stopped with the champagne,” Vanessa groans. “It’s ruining my glory.”

“It’s worth it,” Brooke says. She turns onto her back and pulls Vanessa with her, Vanessa’s head nestling against her chest, a perfect fit against the curve of Brooke’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe it.”

Brooke hasn’t fully comprehended it yet, passing out seconds after Vanessa tucked her in last night. Tomorrow she’ll call Ms. Cain’s law office, do everything she can to get Zoey back and then…she can do anything. She hasn’t let herself plan much yet, tried not to let dreams take shape, in case the con failed. She didn’t want to start drawing the future only to have the pencils ripped out of her hands. But she has the money, she’ll have the lawyer, and she’s one step closer to shading in that new life.

“I know. It doesn’t seem real. I just…” Vanessa sighs against Brooke, the puff of air warming her chest. “I can tell my mom she doesn’t have to worry about bills anymore. I can buy her a house, and it’s nice, y’know? I can take care of her for once.”

“Yeah,” Brooke agrees.

“And not only that…like, I can pay for someone’s groceries if I want.”

“Or leave a big tip for a server.”

“Yeah!” Vanessa sighs again. “I should get up. Got some last things to do before we all meet next week.”

“You need help?”

“No, it’s nothing big. Thanks, though.”

Brooke rises reluctantly, stretching her limbs and wincing as a passing car roars directly into her ears.

She looks at Vanessa, Brooke’s sweatshirt hanging off her tiny frame, making her even more adorable. “I haven’t slept that well in–”

“Six months,” Vanessa answers for her.

“Yeah,” Brooke agrees, wondering how many sleepless nights Vanessa’s had, if neither of them could sleep without the other. “Could do without the headache though.”

“Tylenol and pancakes?” Vanessa offers.

Brooke nods.

—

Brooke sprints through the gallery, heart racing in time with her legs. She has to get out before they catch her, or she’ll lose her monthly visits and any hope of gaining custody. She can hardly breathe through the fear, lungs burning in her chest.

At least Vanessa got out, and she should be safe at A’keria’s. Still, Brooke’s worries only grow, threatening to consume her as she searches for the basement delivery entrance.

She should have never done this for so big a profit. They got lucky with the first four, but this was pushing it, and she can’t be surprised things got out of control. But they had been so careful, never choosing galleries in the same burroughs, even going upstate once. But it didn’t matter. Obviously there was a mistake somewhere, and Brooke can’t afford to pay for it.

She shoves open the door, bright summer sun blocking out the world for a second.

When she sees the two police officers waiting, she wishes the sun had swallowed her up.

—

It’s easy to sink back into their routine. Almost too easy.

After downing Tylenol, Brooke sets the table while Vanessa commands the stove, flipping pancakes and swatting Brooke away because she’s not dealing with the ER if Brooke injures herself (‘It was one time! I didn’t even need stitches!‘ Brooke protests, but relents).

March sun peeks through the window, a hope of spring, and it’s like any other morning for them, purposely bumping into each other and letting their touches linger, Brooke tossing chocolate chips in her mouth when Vanessa isn’t looking.

“Think I can flip this like on the Food Network?” Vanessa asks, lifting her frying pan temptingly, pancake sliding around inside.

“Doubt it,” Brooke says.

“Come on, I got skills!” Vanessa protests, grin wider than her face.

“I don’t know why you’re even asking. You know you’re gonna do it,” Brooke says, smiling fondly. Vanessa never needed anyone’s permission to be herself, and Brooke had–no, has–always loved her for it.

“You right.” Vanessa jerks her arm up. The golden pancake flies into the air, smacks against the ceiling, and plummets to the floor like a failed rocket launch. Riley scampers after it, tail wagging furiously as he munches.

“Oops,” Vanessa says, and then they’re roaring with laughter, Brooke laughing so hard tears stream out of her eyes, her stomach aching in a good way, a way it hasn’t for so long.

“Good thing Riley was on cleanup,” Brooke says once they sit down.

“Good thing I made the pancakes. Even Riley wouldn’t have eaten yours,” Vanessa says, but her eyes are kind.

“Hey!” Brooke pouts around a mouthful of pancake, but the truth is Vanessa’s pancakes are the best, perfectly golden and fluffy.

“It’s true.”

They eat in an easy silence, listing the dumbest things they can buy, things too excessive to actually waste money on, and Brooke knows she’ll do anything she can to keep this going. Even if their relationship isn’t exactly what it was–and it probably can’t ever be exactly what it was–Brooke wants to do this, wants to discover new parts of Vanessa.

She’s about to open her mouth when Vanessa beats her to it.

“Brooke?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I take you on a date this week? With dinner and no scams?” Vanessa’s smile is hopeful, and Brooke’s stomach leaps with the memory of her own date offer, all those months ago.

“I’d love that,” Brooke says.

—

The interrogation room is what she expected from TV: cold, puke-green walls, a metal table and two chairs, and a window Brooke can’t see through. A bare bulb burns her eyes with its brightness in the dim, gloomy room.

The first detective she was handed over to in the station–a smiling Good Cop–seats her in the chair, her back already aching, and attaches her handcuffs to the table.

“Let’s get to the point,” Good Cop says, sitting across from her. “You’re a scammer. You pretend to be an artist and take people’s money.”

Brooke doesn’t answer.

“The woman who escaped. Is she the ringleader? An associate?”

Brooke knows they can take anything she says and twist it around, and she has to protect Vanessa. Her heart is pounding so loud the detective can probably hear it. She has no idea what’s going to happen to her. Will she have a trial, or go straight to prison, or will they release her if she doesn’t confess? She knows she’s given a lawyer, but she doesn’t know when, and she knows the detective is withholding information to scare her into confessing.

She can’t let him know it’s working.

“You did this alone, then?”

Brooke stays silent, heart freezing in her chest as the questions continue. She fights to keep from shaking, keep herself from crying, because she can’t let them see how scared she is, paralyzed with fear over how she’ll get out of this and keep herself and Vanessa safe.

Bad Cop–the second detective–enters with a manila folder and the smug grin of a lion who knows his prey is cornered, nowhere for it to run. It’s the same face Frank had in court, and Brooke curls in on herself.

“I believe you have a daughter?”

He slaps the folder on the table. A picture of Zoey smiles up at Brooke, and her heart stops.

How was she stupid enough to think they wouldn’t know? Despair lurches at her, clouding her vision. She’ll lose her visits and she’ll never get a retrial. The handcuffs are tighter than ever, like they’re squeezing her chest as she gasps for breath. There’s not enough air. She can’t breathe, and she’ll never see Zoey again–

Vanessa comforted her when she got overwhelmed by bills, coaxing Brooke into deep breaths and distracting her with work stories. There’s no comfort now, Brooke drowning in fear so deep she doubts there will ever be comfort again.

“You receive one Saturday a month with her?” Bad Cop plows on, not even pretending to care as Brooke trembles and chokes on air her lungs won’t accept.

“W-why are you asking if you kn-know the answer?” Brooke snarls breathlessly, unable to keep quiet anymore.

“Hey,” Bad Cop warns. “It gets even colder in here at night. Behave, and maybe it’ll get warmer.”

Brooke understands his meaning at once, and she realizes just how much power they have, realizes she’s helpless in their hands. There’s no planning or conning her way out of this. She’s already lost.

“I-I want a lawyer.”

“You’re gonna be here a while. It’s almost midnight, and tomorrow’s Saturday. You’ll be in a cell until Monday at least. But you don’t have to go through all that. We can help you.” Good Cop is so genuine Brooke’s terrified mind almost believes him. “You’ll lose your visits with a criminal record. Any jail time, and you won’t see your daughter again. I know you don’t want that. I don’t want that either.”

He leans in closer, and even though he’s been Good Cop, his smile is anything but kind. “We’ll make you a deal. Give us the woman’s name, and you’ll be released with no record. You’ll see your daughter again.”

Her lungs beg for air, but she can’t give them any. Her stomach twists in horror. Give them Vanessa and keep her daughter, or go to prison and lose her daughter, her baby.

“We’ll let you think.”

They exit in triumphant silence. Brooke lowers her head into her cuffed hands and begins to cry.

—

Brooke nervously sits across from Vanessa. The Italian restaurant is cozy and warm, and Brooke is bursting with the same hopeful anticipation she had on their first date.

“So,” Vanessa says, crunching on garlic bread.

“So.”

They break off into nervous giggles, and Brooke grins back at Vanessa’s smile.

“Um, I think we should talk about stuff. About us,” Vanessa says.

“Okay.”

“I think if we’re gonna do this, we need to, like, be honest with each other,” Vanessa says. She sighs and shakes her head. “This was A’keria’s idea. She said we needed to talk it out, but…” she trails off with a light smile.

Brooke takes a breath. “Well, let’s start with the honesty thing. Everything I told you about Zoey is the truth. I promise there’s nothing else. No more secret kids.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t know if I could take two of ‘em.” Vanessa grins.

“And um, I still love you,” Brooke blurts. “I mean, I want to have a relationship with you again. I know I hurt you, and I can’t take it back, but I really am sorry, Vanessa. And Zoey will come first for me, I have to be honest, but I would never love you any less. So if you’d want to do this again, maybe start fresh, I’d love to. I really would.”

A weight lifts from Brooke’s chest and she puffs out a breath. She said her piece, however jumbled, and all she can do is wait for Vanessa’s reply, like when she told her about Zoey. Brooke chews garlic bread to avoid biting her nails off.

“Brooke, I…it’s complicated, y’know? I mean, you had to do what you did. I don’t know what I would’ve done differently in your place. But I still went to prison, and that’s…something I gotta work on.” Vanessa takes another breath, reaching for Brooke’s hand, the squeeze so soft and loving it fights Brooke’s nerves away. “I get why you kept Zoey secret, but I won’t lie, it hurt that you didn’t tell me. You gotta promise not to keep stuff like that from me anymore. But I…I still love you too. Being with you again made me see how much I missed you. Missed us.”

“I missed us too.” Brooke holds Vanessa’s hand tighter, trying to put all the missed hugs and kisses, all the fears that she lost Vanessa forever into it. She doesn’t want to let Vanessa go ever again.

“We gonna go slow and work on things, maybe do couples counseling or somethin’, but you’re worth it, Brooke. We’re worth it.”

Brooke nods, seeing nothing but love in Vanessa’s eyes, a love that will do whatever it takes to mend their hearts, keep them together. She would lean over and kiss Vanessa, all the other couples be damned, but the waiter sets their plates down and the smell of lasagna breaks the moment.

“Hey, uh, you want to look at houses with me?” Brooke asks, still in disbelief that she has enough money for one. “No matter what happens with��with the trial, I want to buy one.” It’s part of her fresh start, her new life, one she’s thankful every day for.

“Of course. I gotta look at places for my mom too.” Vanessa bites her lip, eyes softening. “Did they set a trial date?”

Brooke shakes her head. “It might be a month or so. The lawyer’s still building the case.”

Vanessa reaches for her hand again, and Brooke takes it. Her meeting with Ms. Cain–who told Brooke to call her Shuga, an old nickname–went well, and Shuga thinks they have a great shot. But hope isn’t something Brooke knows, and she doesn’t want to latch onto it. To be this close and lose it all again–it’s easier to live how she always has, one day at a time.

“We need some kind of award after tonight.” Vanessa sighs.

Brooke laughs. “Wanna get cupcakes?”

“Is that even a question?”

—

The warehouse comes alive Sunday, everyone jittery as they wait for Vanessa to dole out the cuts.

“Okay, I have everyone’s cuts, and I want to review some things.” Vanessa is cool and business-like, and the group hangs on every word. Brooke doesn’t think anyone has taken a breath since Vanessa stood up.

The door opens, and gliding across the warehouse floor, in a tailored red coat and a large black scarf, is Plastique Tiara.

“Y’all are fucked,” Plastique announces, plopping on the couch like it’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, oblivious to the open-mouthed stares.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Silky demands.

“Is it normal to have the person you conned be in the group?” Nina asks seriously. “I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.”

Vanessa holds up her hand to quiet the murmuring. Brooke peeks over at her, and she nods, both of them stepping forward.

“We invited her,” Vanessa explains. “Brooke and I decided to let her in on it, since things were a little suspicious.”

“Hey, you finally got your Mateo’s Eight, Vanj,” Silky says.

“And eight shares of the necklace is better than seven shares of nothing, right?” Brooke asks.

Everyone nods, though they still look warily at Plastique, and Brooke can’t really blame them for being suspicious. She was skeptical of the plan too, afraid of anything that would jeopardize her money, her future, but Vanessa convinced her it was the safest option.

“What tipped you off?” A’keria asks Plastique.

“I’m not the total idiot the magazines say I am,” Plastique says. She points to Scarlet. “You took way too many pictures of that necklace, there’s no way I threw up without something causing it, and I recognized you”–a finger aimed at Vanessa– “when the cops showed me your picture.”

“The cops are looking for us?” Nina gasps.

“I can’t go to prison! Do you know how bad orange looks with my hair?” Scarlet moans.

“No one’s going to prison,” Vanessa says.

“‘Cause I saved your asses by saying I never saw Vanessa and she didn’t take the necklace,” Plastique cuts in.

“But they have you on camera,” A’keria says.

“Hey!” Vanessa barks, and everyone listens. “The company who owns the necklace knew it was a fake, obviously. They assigned an insurance investigator, and since I have a record, they checked my alibi. I’m on camera, but nowhere near the crime scene, thanks to Yvie’s blindspot. I’m even on the camera far away seconds after it took place. Perfect alibi. None of us are suspects.”

“So who is?” Silky asks.

Brooke cuts in. “Well, the bodyguard, the waiters–”

“I planted a piece on someone at the ball with his investment company. Left a tip with the investigator on where to find it. And this is where it gets good.” Vanessa rubs her hands together, and Brooke frowns in confusion. This isn’t the plan Vanessa told her, and maybe it’s part of the ‘last things’ she did the morning after the con.

“I hired four old ladies to sell off the necklace, piece by piece, and transfer some of the profits into his investment company. Just enough to be noticeable, to pin the crime on him.”

“Doesn’t that change our cuts?” Yvie asks.

Brooke grins smugly and winks at Vanessa, who motions for her to open the closet.

“See, we didn’t just take one necklace,” Brooke explains. The squeaky hinges open to reveal the collection of glittering jewels they stole from the historical exhibit, the bigger mark only she and Vanessa knew about. The ultimate distract-and-grab.

“Holy shit,” A’keria breathes.

“Is this why you wouldn’t answer me on the comms?” Nina asks. “I thought you were making out somewhere.”

“Wait, did you make out? ‘Cause then I owe A’keria five bucks,” Yvie says.

“We didn’t make out–” Brooke begins.

“–In the exhibit.” Vanessa finishes with a wink, everyone erupting into shouts and cackles.

Brooke waves her arm to restore order. “While everyone was looking for the necklace, Vanessa and I snuck inside the historical exhibit. We made more copies of the jewels with the 3D printer and replaced those too.”

“Which, by the way, raises the cuts to 38 million each,” Vanessa says.

“Holy shit!” Silky screams.

A delirious joy fills Brooke to bursting as the others thank her before tangling together in a many-armed hug.

Vanessa pulls Brooke aside amid the chaos of Nina forming a kick line and Silky parading through the warehouse with Plastique on her back.

“I know I didn’t tell you about planting the diamond,” Vanessa says quickly. “I wanted to keep you safe.”

Brooke pauses, her mouth hanging open. It’s been years since someone cared about her safety, and it makes her warm with Vanessa’s love.

“Frank was there with his investment company. I planted part of the necklace on him and put the money in his account.”

“Vanessa…” Brooke can’t speak. Her ex-husband will be the main suspect, and Brooke can’t pin down what she’s feeling. Glee that he’s getting what he deserves. Hope that his criminal activity will tip the court in favor of Brooke taking Zoey. Fear that it won’t work, that he’ll come after her or Vanessa—

“Hey,” Vanessa says softly. “I see you spiraling. Don’t worry. Your name wasn’t listed at the event and you’re not on camera, so they can’t link you to it. I have an alibi. We’re both safe. And listen. I didn’t tell the cops to search Frank yet. If you don’t want me to, I won’t tell them. We’re safe either way.”

Brooke thinks of the scamming Frank has done, money falling into his lap and the law bending to his will. She thinks of how he screamed at her until she cried, how he always insulted her to his friends, his insistence that she didn’t deserve to be a mom, didn’t deserve anything he gave her. It’s no guarantee of jail time, but he should get probation at least, and it’s what he deserves.

“Do it,” Brooke says firmly. “Let him pay for what he’s done.”

Vanessa nods, pulling Brooke down on the couch. Brooke doesn’t even know she’s crying until Vanessa gently wipes a tear from her cheek.

“It’s okay, baby,” Vanessa whispers. “You don’t have to worry anymore. It’s okay.” Despite the chaos around them, Brooke is completely at peace, Vanessa her calm refuge in a storm. She snuggles closer, wrapping an arm around Vanessa and resting her head on Vanessa’s shoulder, holding each other tight and dreaming of their future together.

—

“I think this is the one, Brooke,” Vanessa says.

“I think you’re right.” Brooke stands in the kitchen, imagining Zoey’s laughs as they have breakfast. The house is ‘move-in-ready’ according to the realtor, with space for Zoey to grow and a dining room large enough for the Mateo’s Eight (as Vanessa calls the group) to have dinner.

Looking at houses with Vanessa has somehow been one of the best months of Brooke’s life. Maybe because Vanessa pretends they’re an obnoxious HGTV couple who sell kites for a living (‘Have you seen House Hunters, Brooke? These are real jobs people have’), gasping with the realtor over high ceilings and open floor plans. She always asks about schools in the area and discusses paint color for Zoey’s room, and the fact that Vanessa’s still here, still supporting Brooke after everything, brings tears to Brooke’s eyes.

She looks into the dining room, ready for her friends to sprawl out laughing and talking. She imagines Vanessa meeting Zoey while they have dinner and curl up watching a movie together. She pictures a Christmas tree shining by a crackling fire, decorating with Zoey and watching her open presents, Brooke’s heart warmer than any blaze.

“I’ll take it,” Brooke says.

—

Zoey or Vanessa. Her daughter or her girlfriend.

Brooke can’t hold in the sobs now, trembling so much the whole table teeters with her.

She’s already missed so much of Zoey’s life. She wasn’t there to catch Zoey when she fell after her wobbling first steps. She wasn’t there when words tumbled from her lips the first time. She’s not there to soothe Zoey after a bad dream, to hum lullabies while rocking her back to sleep. And she’ll miss so much more if she goes to prison.

She won’t hold the back of a bike seat while Zoey pedals. She won’t lead Zoey into kindergarten and hang up her drawings on the refrigerator. She won’t light candles on birthday cakes or measure Zoey’s height or buy an outfit for an awkward middle school dance or decorate a graduation cap, won’t see who Zoey grows up to be.

But what is she condemning Vanessa to? She thinks of Vanessa locked behind bars that snuff out her spirit, being caged when Vanessa is so free. Vanessa will think Brooke gave her up on purpose, all because Brooke was too afraid to tell her the truth. Vanessa will suffer in ways Brooke can’t imagine if she gives her up.

But if she doesn’t, Zoey will grow up not knowing her mother, maybe even thinking she had abandoned her. No matter how much she regrets what will happen to Vanessa, Brooke can’t lose her daughter. Not again.

“You ready to talk?” The detective must’ve been watching her, but Brooke doesn’t even care.

Choking back one last sob, Brooke nods.

—

Brooke doesn’t think she’s ever been this nervous.

Not when she had principal roles in dance recitals, not when she met Vanessa, not even when she was in the interrogation room. Brooke sits quietly next to Shuga in the tiny, stuffy courtroom, staring straight ahead to avoid Frank. She shrinks into her chair, feeling like everyone is judging everything she’s ever done, that they can see inside her soul.

Shuga hits all her points for Brooke gaining custody. Brooke has never missed a visit. She has a clean record, a steady job, and a new house, while Frank’s lifestyle isn’t kid-friendly and he’s facing possible jail time. Her boss at the studio, Kameron, even serves as something Shuga calls a character witness, saying how dedicated Brooke is. The lawyers go back and forth like a tennis match, shooting out legal terms so long it’s a wonder they don’t choke.

She wishes Vanessa was here, if only to hold her hand and insult the judge’s perm, make things just a little less scary. Vanessa planned to strut into the courtroom flaunting head-to-toe pink like Elle Woods–even ready to smuggle Riley in her purse–but family court is private, and Brooke keeps her hands in her lap while Vanessa likely paces the waiting area outside.

When the judge prepares the verdict Brooke almost throws up. Her heart creeps into her throat, blazer collar suddenly choking her, and she needs Vanessa more than ever.

“Breathe,” Shuga whispers. For all her fierceness, Shuga has been almost motherly toward Brooke, a protective, caring warmth Brooke never got from her own mother.

Brooke stands with the others, gripping the table before her shaky knees give out. The judge smacks her gavel in dismissal, and Brooke is so stunned Shuga has to lead her out because her legs don’t quite work.

Vanessa wears a hole in the stone floor, hair in a long stress-braid down her back.

“Well?” Vanessa asks expectantly. She takes Brooke from Shuga, and squeezes her hands, eyes filled with hesitant hope.

“I won,” Brooke’s voice cracks, and she realizes she’s crying. “I got full custody.”

Vanessa wraps Brooke in her arms, her hug the only thing keeping Brooke upright. Vanessa rubs soothing circles on her back, whispering how proud and happy she is, and though Brooke can’t speak, her tears are enough of an answer as they soak into Vanessa’s shirt.

She’ll get Zoey, and they’ll be home. And though she and Vanessa still have work to do, and things may not be what they were, Brooke knows Vanessa is part of that home.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #silky nutmeg ganache #akeria davenport #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #plastique tiara #branjie #s11 #lesbian au #oceans 8 au #mateos 8 #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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You're the One Thing (I Can't Get Enough Of) {Branjie}- athena2

A/N: Brooke has messed up in her and Vanessa’s relationship, but she’s going to do whatever it takes to fix it. This is for @writworm 42, who requested a fic where Brooke has messed up and makes it up to Vanessa with candlelight and looking pretty and a slow dance, and Writ is awesome and I love them so I had to. I hope it’s somewhat like what you imagined, and I hope you enjoy! Please leave some feedback if you’d like! Title from “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing.

—

Night has fallen, a dark blue sheet over the world, when Brooke finally exits the conference room massaging her temples, ears still ringing from a board member’s yelling.

She pulls out her phone on the way to her car, stomach growling with the knowledge that she’s consumed nothing but a cup of coffee all day. 15 minutes and she’ll be home, eating dinner and kissing Vanessa—

There’s 5 voicemails and almost 30 texts, all from Vanessa.

Oh no. The phone shakes in Brooke’s hand, and it’s a good thing she hasn’t eaten because her stomach lurches.

Did something happen? Is she hurt? Is she sick? Her mind is overtaken by images of Vanessa trapped and bleeding in her car, or fighting for her life in the hospital, or scared because of something at work…she forces herself to breathe and opens up the messages, heart pounding.

Brooke

Where are you?

You’re supposed to be out early today remember?

Why are you late?

Brooke are you okay? You’re an hour late and I’m scared

Brooke?

Are you okay?

You’re almost two hours late

I just called your office they said you’re in a meeting. Did you seriously forget to leave early for tonight?

Whatever. Obviously your job is more important

Oh shit. Brooke’s heart creeps into her throat and the guilt slams into her like a tractor. Somehow, in between her rushed cup of coffee for breakfast and the two morning meetings and skipping lunch to perfect her presentation and the presentation itself and this meeting, she completely forgot that she had to get out early.

It’s her and Vanessa’s third anniversary.

And Brooke forgot about it.

—

“Will you just come, Brooke? You might actually enjoy yourself, you know,” Nina argues.

“At 80’s music night at the Rainforest Bar? Do I even need to dignify that with a response?” She shoots Nina the most scathing look she can muster.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not your exact idea of a good time, but please just come? You might meet someone. You haven’t been in a relationship since undergrad. I worry about you, Brooke.” It’s a clear guilt trip, but there’s such sincerity in Nina’s expression that she finds herself agreeing.

“Fine. But if I don’t have a good time, which I won’t, I get to pick the next movie for movie night.”

“Okay. And if you do have a good time, which you will, I get to pick the movie.”

“Deal.”

—

Brooke opens the back door and enters a fog of doom and misery in the kitchen.

“Look who decided to show up.”

Vanessa sits stiffly at the kitchen table, a murderous gleam in her eyes. She’s still in her flowing gold dress that she saves for special occasions. The table is bare, and Brooke realizes with a pang that Vanessa had given up on her and put it all away, removed all traces of the night they were supposed to have, with their fancy dresses and fancy dinner and candles and champagne.

Like she could no longer bear to sit and look at the broken promise Brooke had made of their night.

There is nothing she can say that will make this better, but she has to try. Vanessa deserves that much at least.

“Vanessa, I’m so sorry. I got caught up at work–”

“You’re always caught up at work!”

She can tell from Vanessa’s rage that this has been building for a while–and not without reason. Brooke has been coming home later than usual the past few weeks, falling asleep at her home desk as she reviews graphs and charts. She’s been telling Vanessa that things will be normal again once the quarter ends, but what if–fear grips her heart–what if her and Vanessa aren’t still her and Vanessa by the time it does?

“They scheduled a late meeting and it was mandatory–”

“Of course it was! And you know what? You wouldn’t have even been there for it if you left early like you promised!” Vanessa leaps to her feet, betrayal and anger enabling her to tower over Brooke.

“I know. I’m sorry. It was a shitty thing to do and I–”

“One night I asked you to get out early. One!” She laughs bitterly. “Sometimes I think you like that job more than me.”

“Ness, I–”

“You don’t get to call me Ness right now.” Brooke detects tears chasing after the fury in Vanessa’s voice. “Why don’t you sleep at your desk tonight. You love sleeping there anyway.”

She storms up the stairs and Brooke restrains herself from following. Vanessa’s anger is like a landmine; you might take out everything in a 5-mile radius if you approach her when she’s still seething. As much as Brooke wants to race after her and talk and apologize until she’s repaired this, she knows she’ll only create more damage if she goes when the fire of rage is still burning through her wife, and she’s caused enough destruction already.

She finds their dessert for tonight, chocolate-strawberry tarts from their favorite coffee shop–where they had their first official date and Brooke was so nervous she poured sugar all over the table instead of in her mug–in the garbage, another casualty of Brooke’s forgetfulness.

Brooke steps into her home office, her appetite suddenly gone, a hard lump in her stomach now. She drops into her desk chair, still in her stiff pantsuit, because she doesn’t deserve the release of taking it off. She watches the sky brighten as it passes from dusk to dawn, a bright pink of new possibilities and fulfilled promises, as she formulates a plan.

She’s going to make this right.

—

Nina hums along to “Africa” at the table they’re huddled around, and Brooke is flooded with guilt for making Nina stand here with her miserable self when she knows Nina would rather be on the dance floor.

“Go dance,” Brooke insists. “Have fun. Don’t worry about me.” It takes another few minutes of coaxing and reassuring Nina that she’ll be fine before Nina sprints to the dance floor, immediately drawn in with a group of women.

Brooke sighs and sips at her drink, the oversized paper umbrella almost taking her eye out. She shouldn’t be here; she should be reviewing her presentation for Monday, making sure she’s caught every mistake. Maybe she could hole up in the bathroom and go over the notes on her phone. She sighs again. Why couldn’t she ever just let go and have fun like Nina encouraged her to?

“Hey there,” a rough voice surfaces at her side. “You okay? You lookin’ kinda stressed, Mami.”

Brooke looks up at the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen, brilliant white teeth exposed in a full grin, a jungle cat on the prowl, brown eyes bright under the neon lights, hair brushed back off her soft, smooth face.

“I–I’m fine,” Brooke manages, no longer sure how to form words.

The woman winks. “You sure are.” She bats her eyelashes and Brooke has to grip the table just to stay upright.

“I’m Vanessa,” the woman says.

—

Brooke calls in sick to work and is out the door before the sun is up the next morning, before Vanessa rolls out of bed to take her shower. Brooke can’t help but smile as she pictures the nest Vanessa’s hair is in the morning, how she always tries to convince Brooke to stay in the shower with her. All she can do is hope she didn’t mess up enough to lose those things.

The grocery store is nearly deserted this early in the morning, which is good because Brooke doesn’t want to know what she looks like, in yesterday’s clothes, hair up in a ponytail, running on a rough hour of sleep and not enough coffee. She shoves through the exhaustion and focuses.

Vanessa likes Caesar salad with extra croutons, she likes potatoes fried until they crunch, and she likes steak completely well done because any pink in it freaked her out. Brooke can barely make toast without setting off the smoke detector, but as she roams down endless seas of cans and boxes, her sleep-deprived brain declares that she can make all of these things for tonight.

She is going to give Vanessa the night she deserves, because Vanessa is the greatest person Brooke has ever known. She is somehow bold and brash yet kind and thoughtful, always armed with the right words for any situation. She can loosen the threads that have Brooke wound tight with stress over work conferences, make her laugh after a long day, nestle perfectly in her arms at night. The pain in Brooke’s chest is only growing as she thinks of the absolute wreck she made of everything.

How could she have forgotten the anniversary of the day she stood under a canopy of orange leaves and slid her ring on Vanessa’s finger and vowed to love her forever? Has her love for Vanessa lessened over the years? No, she knows that isn’t true. Her heart still speeds up every time Vanessa smiles at her, their hands still fly together like lovesick teenagers. She knows, even in moments when Vanessa has steam coming out of her ears after work or is frowning at her for editing presentations in bed, that she loves Vanessa more than ever. She has to show Vanessa how much she loves her in case the message has been lost lately with all her deadlines and meetings and stress.

Her next stop is the coffee shop to get new tarts, only to be told that they make those every other day. Brooke clenches her fists so tight she nearly bends her phone in half. She has to have these tarts. They’re Vanessa’s favorite, and nothing else will do. Vanessa should get to have her favorite dessert all the time, and especially now, but Brooke walks out the door with a polite thank you, because what’s she going to do? Get down on her knees and sob and beg the bored twenty-something behind the counter to make the tarts so she can save her marriage? (The thought does cross her mind).

Brooke gets in her car, pulls up a recipe, and heads back to the store.

—

Vanessa is tiny, barely at Brooke’s shoulders even in her sleek black heels, but with a voice and personality that make her double in size. Brooke easily lets her take the lead on the conversation, and by the time she finds out Vanessa is a schoolteacher a few years younger than her, Brooke forgets to be afraid, forgets about her presentation Monday, forgets everything but Vanessa’s eyes and smile across from her.

Brooke doesn’t even notice that hours have passed listening to Vanessa’s stories of what goes on in the teachers’ lounge at school, the DJ cycling through Madonna and Cyndi Lauper and George Michael, until the bartender announces last call and the soft strains of a familiar song from one of her and Nina’s favorite movies ring out.

‘Now I’ve had the time of my life…’

Vanessa squeals. “I love this song! Dance with me?”

She lets Vanessa pull her on to the dance floor, the brunette telling her over the music about how she and her friends all watched the movie for the first time at a sleepover when they were 12, how everyone drooled over Johnny but she couldn’t take her eyes off Penny, and by the end of the sleepover she knew she had a thing for blondes and did not have a thing for men.

Brooke just listens to that gravelly voice, feels the warmth of Vanessa’s body pulsing next to her, and when the song reaches its climax, she can’t resist leaning down and whispering into Vanessa’s ear.

“I can do this, you know. The lift, I mean.” Brooke clarifies at Vanessa’s confused expression.

“You’re shitting me!”

“I’m not.” Brooke grins. “I took dance lessons for 14 years, I know how to do it.”

“You wanna come back to my place and prove it?”

—

The first thing she sees when she gets home is Vanessa’s coffee mug in the sink, peeking out at her like a ray of sunlight.

The mug Brooke got her as a joke when they started dating, with a chalkboard and an apple on it proclaiming Vanessa to be the World’s Best Teacher. The mug she had plucked a ring out of the night she proposed to Vanessa, a night filled with happy tears and kisses and breathless repeatings of we’re getting married. The mug that Vanessa insisted be the first thing they unpacked when they moved into their new house.

Vanessa leaves the mug in the sink every morning and Brooke washes it every night when she gets home from work, relishing the calm motions and the memories of late breakfasts and kisses sweet with coffee and maple syrup bursting from the mug’s surface.

If Vanessa was willing to drink out of this morning after everything that happened, maybe there’s hope, and Brooke rinses the mug with a smile.

Then she lays out her supplies and gets to work.

Brooke can’t cook. At all. And she doesn’t mean it in the modest way people do when they don’t want to call attention to their talents; she means it in the way that Vanessa reaches for the fire extinguisher anytime Brooke gets within a foot of the stove. But she has double of everything she’ll need and seven hours until Vanessa gets home, and today is as good a day as ever to be optimistic.

Brooke slices and stirs and mixes and it distracts her from the fact that it’s radio silence on her phone all day. No cat videos or pictures of Vanessa at her desk with the funniest Snapchat filter she could find or an accusatory so guess what this hoe at work did today with the promise of a wild story that she would hear at dinner. It’s what she expected and it’s what she deserves. Hell, it’s probably more than she deserves; she wouldn’t blame Vanessa for sending her angry texts and screaming voicemails.

After a long shower, a thick layer of aloe vera over the small burn on her arm, three Minnie Mouse Band-Aids on the cuts on her fingers, one batch of tarts so deformed they could be a viral Pinterest fail, a once-white T-shirt that she doubts even bleach can save, and a salad dressing incident that required cleaning the ceiling, Brooke curls her hair, applies her makeup, and slips on her elegant black dress, the one with the plunging neckline that Vanessa likes because then she can put her hands all over Brooke’s chest.

She lights candles to set the romantic mood (and also mask the odor from the first round of potatoes she burned), arranges deep red and soft white roses in a vase, and props up the portable speaker as Vanessa drives home from the after-school program she helps with, probably blasting Rihanna and singing along with the windows open.

Brooke starts the music as she hears the lock click, preparing herself for the moment of truth.

—-

Vanessa is barely in the door before she has the song cued up on her phone, pulling Brooke into the living room with a wide smile.

Vanessa slips her arms around Brooke’s waist, rocking her into a slow dance as the first verses of the song play out.

The song builds to the lift, and Vanessa bites her lip and glances up at Brooke nervously.

“You’re not gonna drop me, are you?” she questions.

“I won’t drop you, I promise. I got you.” Brooke has never made promises easy, Nina the only person to typically earn them, but it flies out so naturally she doesn’t question it, and she knows she will never break it. She’s got a good feeling in her gut about Vanessa, and Brooke wants to carve those words into stone.

Vanessa nods, taking a few steps back before running at her, heels clicking on the floor, and Brooke settles her hands on Vanessa’s hips, going with the motion and lifting her high in the air.

“Holy shit, Brooke!” Vanessa shrieks above Brooke’s head. “I’m five-nothing, I never been this high! Well, except for that time my friend Silky made her ‘special’ cookies.”

Vanessa is quaking with laughter above her, legs flailing, and Brooke laughs and lowers Vanessa to the ground, hands still sturdy on her hips, and Brooke is thinking she might just leave them there forever. What does she really need her hands for anyway?

“I bet you use that trick on all the girls,” Vanessa accuses, still breathless, a smile between her flushed cheeks.

“Never,” Brooke says truthfully. “Never met anyone I liked enough to do it with.”

And then their lips meet, and that good feeling spreads to Brooke’s entire body. She may actually burst into flame, and she lifts Vanessa once more and carries her into–no, that’s the bathroom, Brooke unable to see anything but Vanessa–the bedroom, placing her down carefully and removing Vanessa’s dress.

They nestle into a breathless tangle, and there’s that feeling in Brooke’s stomach again. This time it’s telling her that this won’t be their last night together, that she’ll get to hold Vanessa close every night and wake up with sunlight glinting off Vanessa’s back every morning, kissing and laughing and getting pancake crumbs from breakfasts in bed all over the sheets.

She lets the feeling carry her off into sleep.

Vanessa makes waffles the next morning, and Brooke leaves with another kiss and a new contact in her phone, Vanessa’s name followed by a heart and dancing woman emojis.

Brooke gets two texts that afternoon.

The first is from Vanessa asking if she wants to go for coffee tomorrow. The second is from Nina stating that they’ll be watching Mulan for their next movie night.

—-

Etta James’s voice fills the kitchen as Vanessa steps inside, Brooke strategically arranging a playlist with all Vanessa’s favorite love songs, most from their wedding, when they spun around together and neither one could do anything but smile because they were married.

“Brooke?” Vanessa asks, her work bag slipping through her fingers and crashing to the floor. “You-you look so beautiful, and the music and the flowers…and you cooked?” She looks at the table in wonder and bites her lip the way she does when Brooke knows she’s trying not to smile.

“Happy anniversary,” Brooke says. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about yesterday. I know that really hurt you, and I wanted to give you the anniversary you deserve, because you mean the world to me.”

“Brooke…” she’s not hiding her smile anymore, and her eyes are starting to tear up.

Brooke takes a deep breath, holding herself back from running to Vanessa just in case. “I love you, Vanessa. These have been the best three years of my life, and I still love you just as much as I did the first day. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m going to work harder to show you that. I won’t be late at the office anymore, and I won’t be doing work stuff when I could be with you. Because you’re the most important thing in my life.”

Vanessa is in her arms the next second, breathing soft I love you’s into Brooke’s chest.

“I forgive you,” Vanessa whispers. “I love you so much, Brooke. I was so lonely last night, and I wanted to text you so many times today, and you did all this for me…this is the best anniversary ever.”

She plants a kiss on the top of Vanessa’s head, and then Vanessa runs upstairs and comes back in her gold dress, Brooke bursting into a grin and hit with that same flutter in her stomach like she did that first night, like she did the night they said their vows.

‘Unforgettable, that’s what you are…’ Nat King Cole lulls over them as they start on dinner, Vanessa updating her on the case of the teachers’ lounge snack-stealer with today’s new evidence.

“I think the food is edible,” Brooke offers as a disclaimer.

“It’s fine, baby,” Vanessa assures her, crunching on potatoes. “Hey, was that stain on the ceiling before?” she asks suddenly. “And why do you have so many Band-Aids on?”

“Just don’t ask,” Brooke blurts around her edible, actually-not-bad steak, grateful when “I’m Stone in Love With You” picks up and Vanessa’s attention shifts to another story.

Brooke is washing the dishes from the tarts (a little crunchy around the edges, maybe, but altogether decent) when it comes on, like she timed it (which she had, stalling on the dish-scrubbing for just the right moment).

‘Now I’ve had the time of my life…’

“Brooke!” Vanessa squeals. “You didn’t!”

Brooke drops her washcloth in the sink and tugs Vanessa into the living room. “I did.”

The music sweeps around them and they join together in a slow dance, twirling around the living room laughing and smiling, that night years ago reflected in both of their eyes.

Vanessa takes a step back as the time grows near, searching Brooke’s face for the answer to an unasked question.

“I still got you,” Brooke promises.

Her hands are on Vanessa’s hips seconds later, Vanessa screeching up in the air while Brooke laughs beneath her, fingers exuding a promise she first made years ago into Vanessa’s skin, the promise that she will always be there for her wife, no matter what.

She brings Vanessa down into a kiss as the song fades out and melts into Diana Ross. Every kiss with Vanessa over the years has been special, but this one is fiery and desperate, filled with every need that went unanswered last night. Needs that Brooke won’t let be neglected again, because she isn’t going to put her job above her wife–her kind, passionate, fierce, loving wife–again.

She carries Vanessa up the stairs and this time she doesn’t have to search for a bedroom in an unfamiliar apartment because now it’s their bedroom, their home. Their life.

And she knows that tomorrow they’ll wake up and Vanessa will drink coffee out of that mug, and Brooke will wash it tomorrow night with a smile on her face, because even if the way she loves Vanessa has changed over the years, Brooke knows she has never loved her more.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #branjie #lesbian au #mild angst #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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indiscreet (behind closed doors part 9) [branjie] - meggie

A/N: Thank you to Mia (moon of my life, my sun and stars) for being a constant source of support and comfort, and to the rest of the Avengers for playing along with my crazy idea. I love you guys. I love our family. I love everything about what this turned into. We did a thing! Isn’t it lovely?

Summary: They do okay when it comes to keeping their relationship a secret. Mostly because they invent an Emoji code. It’s Brooke’s idea, but it’s inspired by Vanjie, who texts primarily in Emojis and swear words. But that was before.

Word Count: 1,887

Brooke is tremendous at keeping secrets.

Birthday surprises, Christmas presents, the fact that he made the top four (and later top two) on Drag Race… Not a problem. He’s essentially Fort Knox.

Vanessa is abysmal at keeping secrets.

Surprise parties are always a surprise to him as well as to the guest of honor because he can’t be trusted; he has to buy presents right before they’re to be given because he can’t wait any longer than that to give them to their recipients. It’s a problem. He’s basically a sieve.

It never bothered Brooke that Vanjie can’t keep a secret. In fact, he’s always found it kind of endearing. It was another quirk, another personality trait he loved to explore during their relationship. They’d never made any milestones (a couple of monthaversaries, but not to any major holidays or even to Brooke’s birthday), but Brooke had still learned that if he wanted something to stay a secret but had to get it off his chest, he needed to go to Nina or Courtney and not to Vanessa.

They do okay when it comes to keeping their relationship a secret. Mostly because they invent an Emoji code. It’s Brooke’s idea, but it’s inspired by Vanjie, who texts primarily in Emojis and swear words. They choose the detective (because they’re being sneaky); the magnifying glass (“let them follow the clues, bitch”); the pair of eyes (“I see you, and you look damn fine,” used usually when one of them feels especially thirsty); and the orange heart (the most sentimental by far; inspired by the proverbial cat coming out of the bag during the Orange Alert runway. Neither one of them liked orange before. Now they kind of love it). They haven’t expressly said what the heart means, not in so many words, but they both know what it stands for.

But that was before.

Vanessa is the one who ended it.

Brooke takes the blame, is able to shoulder that hurt and responsibility and criticism a little better than America’s sweetheart Miss Vanjie can. Vanessa has much more to lose by admitting that their fairy tale romance is over.

So Brooke accepts responsibility, deletes the messages from angry fans, internalizes the messages from nice ones. Tucks them into his heart for the times he needs them most.

But it weighs on him. His sister tells him it isn’t right that he’s protecting Vanessa by martyring himself. “You can’t burn yourself out to keep others lit,” she says one night when Brooke calls her at three a.m., drunk and sad and still so in love he thinks it’s actually killing him, eating him from the inside, the deadliest parasite.

Then they go on tour.

The contracts were signed months ago, when things between them were still sunny, before seeing the banner notifications “vanessavanjie liked your post,” “vanessavanjie liked your tweet” (the only notifications he still has on) sent tiny daggers of pain down his veins, into the chambers of his heart, slicing at the cardiac muscle, turning it to ribbons the color of Vanessa’s entrance dress (“I forgot how much I liked this dress” he comments because he is drunk and stupid and in love).

They’re on tour together and it’s fine, it’s fine until Vanjie comes home drunk from the bar one night and can’t find his room. So Brooke takes him into his own room, tucks him into his own bed, holds him against his chest as they sleep. Like old times. Like nothing has changed.

In the morning, he lets Vanessa kiss him, touch him, fuck him because he’s missed this, missed them, and being together like this, through the pain and hurt and all the goddamn bullshit is better than nothing.

“It…” Brooke had sighed between the second and third (or third and fourth?) times. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you again.” Honesty. Raw emotion. The Ice Queen hath melted. Throw a fucking party.

Vanessa had shrugged, slithered down the mattress, taken Brooke into his mouth, and worked him nearly to the edge before pulling away with a grin, saliva shiny on his chin.

“Nah, baby. I know the score already.” He swiped a hand over his mouth. “And when you know the score, it makes playing the game way easier.”

They they’d fucked like nothing had changed, Vanjie’s legs wrapped around Brooke’s waist, heels spurring him on to greater speeds and depths. Brooke’s hands drifting over Vanessa’s body, lithe fingers wrapped gently around his neck, never too hard but just enough, just so, just right.

No one’s ever known Brooke’s body the way Vanjie does. Known every freckle and pulse point and where on his neck to suck and how hard and how long before Brooke falls apart in his arms.

So maybe that’s why he plays along.

They lie apart after (hands lacing in the air, fingers tracing tattoos and veins and muscles) and decide it’s okay for now. For the tour, while they’re in such close proximity every day, they can fuck and touch and not feel anything. As long as they know the score, and as long as no one else knows.

But Vanessa’s bad at keeping secrets.

* * *

Officially, Silky’s the first, and that’s not really all that surprising.

She spots a hickey on Brooke’s collarbone one morning at breakfast and stares Vanjie down.

Vanessa is good at a lot of things, but acting isn’t one of them. So he tells Silky, who doesn’t hesitate to add her own opinion about what they’re doing (“this is a clusterfuck waiting to happen. I done told y’all. Go on and do what you want, but don’t expect me to fix your shit later on, Miss Motherfucking Vanjie. No ma’am. We done did that once already.”)

So Silky’s the first, and A’keria is the second (naturally), but she just sighs and pulls her lips into a terse grin and nods.

(Brooke pretends not to hear A’keria tell Vanjie to be careful as they embrace. Tries to remember that to everyone concerned, he is the bad guy, responsible for destroying Vanessa. He pretends not to hear, but he does.)

After that, maybe they get a little less careful.

Vanjie turns up on Brooke’s live video (because we are okay; I did not break this; he did, and here he is half-naked in my bathroom after a quickie in the shower because it’s fine. We’re fine fine fine).

Brooke leaves bite marks on Vanessa’s shoulders that require extra makeup. In retaliation, Vanjie scrapes his nails down Brooke’s back, leaving scratches that must be covered. It’s part of the game: mark your territory, let them know, make them understand.

Asia is next to find out, but her reaction isn’t what they anticipated. She eggs them on, posts video to her Instagram of the two of them (which they repost to their own stories, of course they do), gets the rumors swirling amongst the fans. Neither of them really minds. Secretly Brooke wonders if maybe they’re both hoping fan pressure will force them back together one day. That’s totally healthy.

Then there’s Nina. Brooke breaks down and tells her one night after too many tequila shots (he wasn’t drinking until he started fucking Vanjie again, and that should probably mean something, register as something deeply problematic in his brain, but the room is spinning and Nina is his best friend and at least he isn’t smoking again).

“We’ve been having a lot of sex,” Brooke slurs.

“I fucking knew it!” Nina slaps the bartop with a fist. “Monet so owes me twenty bucks. Anyway. Sorry. What?”

“Me and Vanj. We fuck like… Every night almost. I don’t think he’s stayed in his own room the whole tour.”

Nina nods, sips her wine carefully. “This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you this is a bad idea, right?”

Brooke shrugs. “I don’t fucking know. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell somebody and you’re like, my best friend here.”

Nina opens and closes her mouth several times, like she can’t quite sort out what she wants to say. She settles for draining her glass, motions for a refill, before she places a hand on Brooke’s arm.

“Just…” Nina sighs. “Whatever you do, don’t let him off blame-free this time, okay?”

Brooke glances up, narrows his eyes. How?

Nina shakes her head. “I’m pretty good at reading you after all this time. Your heart was broken, but not the same way Vanjie’s was. Not the way a heart breaks when it’s the one that refuses to bend a little.”

* * *

It’s only a couple of weeks, but it feels longer and heavier and more meaningful than the whole four months of their actual relationship. The blinders are off now. They’re together practically all the time, no separation of time zones or borders or oceans.

And one night after a show, when Vanessa is sprawled across Brooke’s bed, lamplight glistening off the glitter that’s ever-present on his skin, Brooke knows. What’s more is that he knows he has to tell Vanjie, and that’s some scary shit.

He’s tried to tell him in their lovemaking. It’s been different lately, more smooth caresses and less brazen desire. Brooke takes his time; runs his thumb over Vanessa’s perfect fucking mouth and those goddamn cheekbones; stares reverently into his eyes as they build their rhythm (it never takes too long—their minds may want to forget, but their bodies do not); whispers Vanessa’s name into his hair as he comes.

He can do all that, but he can’t work up the energy to just fucking say it.

So Brooke pushes up from the bed because he needs a glass of water (he’s killing time), and he’s staring himself down in the mirror, working up his courage when Vanessa says it.

“I think we gotta stop this.”

Brooke stops. Drains the glass. Exhales. Tightens his hand into a fist and briefly considers… No. “You’re - probably right.”

He isn’t. He isn’t right. Brooke knows this just as much as he can tell Vanessa does, but he won’t be the one to drag things out, to force them, to give Vanessa a false sense of hope and convince him that he’s changed when he isn’t sure he can. He wants to. It’s just…

If there were ever anyone worth changing for, it’s Vanessa. But he’s walking away. Leaving Brooke. And he can’t (won’t) blame him. Self-preservation.

There’s a conversation. They say a lot of things and nothing at all, not really. At least, nothing that Brooke can remember.

Vanessa leaves his room that night, goes to sleep in his own for the first time all tour.

Brooke sends Courtney and Nina a string of indecipherable texts full of Emojis, lets them think he’s drunk. Random ones: the cats, the stupid faces, food, anything he can think of over and over again it doesn’t matter until those four—their four—are gone from his frequently used section.

“We should have been more careful,” Brooke says into his pillow that’s still damp with perspiration and still smells like Vanessa. As if caution could have changed anything. “I just never could keep a damn secret.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #angst #past relationship #post breakup #avengers anthology #behind closed doors #indiscreet #meggie #concrit welcome #submission

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Royals 2/9: For the High Life (Branjie)- athena2

A/N:Thank you so much for all the feedback and interest on Chapter 1! Things get going a little more in this chapter, and I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much to writ for beta-ing, your comments on this chapter made me cackle and you’re just awesome. Chapter title (and all upcoming ones) from Love song by Lana del Rey because that song has me way too emotional. I would really appreciate any feedback and comments, they really do mean a lot to me!

—

It seems that all people do in the north is freeze.

Vanessa had gone to bed freezing, smothered in blankets to stop her teeth chattering, fire crackling in her room, and wakes up still freezing, fire reduced to ash.

Even the breakfast is cold, and Vanessa chews on bacon with a grumble.

“Is the food alright?”

And there’s Princess Perfect, asking how she’s doing like she cares. It’s barely morning and Brooke doesn’t have a hair out of place. Even the purplish shadows under her eyes can’t distract from her imposing figure, looming over Vanessa across a table set for the two of them.

“Yes,” Vanessa replies acidly. “Just a little cold.”

“My apologies. It was hot an hour ago. Nina probably thought you’d be awake when I was; I’m an early riser,” Brooke says quietly, her plate already cleared. Of course you are, Vanessa thinks. Brooke probably woke up before sunrise to prepare for royal council meetings. “I could ask her to bring a fresh breakfast if you’d like,” Brooke offers.

Vanessa would rather eat raw bacon than give Brooke the satisfaction, and her crunches are the only sound in the pristine white room.

Brooke clears her throat. “We have a meeting with our parents after breakfast,” she informs Vanessa. Brooke’s voice is one of a fully-grown queen, not a 19-year-old princess. She had probably spewed proper speech from her cradle.

“I know.”

“Did you have any trouble with the schedule?”

Her tone is firm, but all of Brooke’s words are slow, measured, weighing every vowel like she thinks Vanessa can’t understand her. Her parents probably ordered her to be nice. Obviously it’s taking a lot of effort, judging from how her perfect nails dig into her palms.

“I can read, so, no, I didn’t.” Brooke has no doubt heard that Vanessa didn’t make royal lessons a priority. She had powered her way through most of them, but what good are lessons when there’s a whole world to explore? A world that teaches more lessons than any royal tutor could, though not always good ones.

Brooke’s head bends over a book and Vanessa slurps on hand-squeezed orange juice for as long as her breath allows.

Brooke still won’t even meet her eyes and it’s just what Vanessa expected. Brooke’s family is one of the oldest and richest royal lines in the country. This sort of superiority ran in her blood like snow through the mountain passes. Vanessa is just a pawn to them, her whole family just pawns to build this stupid alliance. Even Brooke’s cold politeness is probably a way for her to get something, and her family expects Vanessa to lay herself right in their hands.

Well, if they think she’s just a piece to move around at their whim, they’re going to cut their hands on her.

—

The meeting is a review of the schedule; all the alliance talks, the feasts, and the wedding. All things Vanessa’s been told for weeks. As the meeting drags on, her eyes travel around the council hall, looking at the rich tapestries of snow-capped mountains and deep green woods, the only color against boring white walls. King Richard’s voice saws at her ears, explaining each item like she’s three years old. Brooke is across from her, eyes trained on the list of events, though Vanessa is sure she has them memorized.

Finally, all the royal staff are brought in. The only one that stands out to Vanessa is Nina, the head chef and the sole person that looks genuinely kind. No matter what the king and queen say about asking the royal staff for anything, wanting Vanessa and her family to feel like they’re in their own castle, the staff are here to serve Brooke and her family. They are not her friends, and if there’s ever any trouble, they will take Brooke’s side. Vanessa knows this, knows all too well what it’s like to answer someone’s every call, give them anything they could possibly want. How everything inside you became secondary–how you became secondary–to the wishes of someone else.

Except in her case, she had thought it was love.

—

They’re free after the meeting, and Vanessa can’t spend another second in her room. It’s a nice room, she’ll admit, with a soft bed, an oak desk, and a long, padded bench by the window overlooking the forest, but there’s an entire castle just waiting. Brooke’s room is down the hall, and Vanessa can hear pacing and the rustling of pages as she passes, figuring Brooke will stay there for a while and she can have the remains of the morning uninterrupted.

The castle walls are uninterrupted white stone, and Vanessa knows her initial thought was right: this place is not a home. Her castle in the south is made of gold sandstone that catches the sunlight and reflects its warmth back at her. The walls feel secure, but cozy, like a blanket around her shoulders. Her castle had sheltered her especially in the past year, holding all her secrets and teary nights inside its walls. The walls here are just bare and empty, and the secrets they hold are not hers.

She ends up in a room of what she figures are family portraits. Brooke’s is at the end, just after her parents. She stands rigid, mouth a straight line, eyes expressionless, and it’s so accurate Vanessa wonders if the artist was excellent or if Brooke is so stiff in real life that she’s like a walking portrait. Probably the latter.

The portrait is missing that razor-thin scar above Brooke’s lip, though. On the real Brooke, it’s just a small blemish, a tiny sliver of imperfection on her pale skin, so small you’d miss it unless you searched for it. (So what if she’s stared at Brooke a little? She’s just sizing up an enemy).

“You’re going to be late for lunch.”

Vanessa grabs at her heart. “I’m going to be late for a lot of things if you give me a heart attack creeping around like that.” She mumbles as Brooke enters the room, her shoes silent on the floor.

“Sorry.” Brooke pulls up next to her and stares at her own portrait. “I’m supposed to get you for lunch. Your attendants said you went exploring. We don’t typically allow visitors in here unattended.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re here, which is something I never thought I’d say and probably never will again,” Vanessa replies. “I bet you come in here all the time to stare at yourself.”

The corner of Brooke’s mouth twitches, and for a second Vanessa thinks she might smile, but her lips remain in their firm line. “I actually hate that thing, to tell you the truth.”

“Why, not pretty enough for you?”

“It seems to be pretty enough for you,” Brooke retorts. “You haven’t taken your eyes off it.”

“Just thinking about how it would be more accurate if they carved you out of stone.”

Brooke squares her shoulders. “We’re going to be late for lunch. You can break rules your first day here if you like. I’m not getting in trouble for you.”

She turns on her heel and is down the hall before Vanessa leaves the room.

—

“‘I’m not getting in trouble for you,’” Vanessa mimics in a high-pitched whine as Silky and A’keria get her hair braided for the welcome feast. “And she still won’t even look at me! Who does she think she is, acting so superior?”

“Maybe she’s afraid of you. Or maybe she’s jealous,” A’keria offers.

“Why would she be jealous of me? She has everything.” She doesn’t address the idea that Brooke is afraid of her. It seems too ridiculous to even consider.

“Well, you’re two years younger than her, and you’re beautiful,” Silky cuts in. “Maybe she thinks you’ll steal her man.”

“A man is the absolute last thing I want,” Vanessa argues, pulling on her red velvet dress with gold swirls. The thick material and long sleeves weigh her down, another reminder how far she is from the southern sun, where short-sleeved dresses flowed in the wind year-round. She reaches instinctively for her sun necklace, only to meet bare skin and painful memory. She’s never wished for it more than tonight.

“She doesn’t know that, though,” A’keria insists. “Everything that happened last year never–”

“Do not talk about last year.”

They both nod, and Silky hands Vanessa her tiara, because apparently the king decided a welcome feast requires everyone to show off their crowns. It’s hard not to feel stronger wearing it, like she could get away with anything, which she has done before. No matter how superior Brooke thinks she is, Vanessa is a princess too. She nestles it among her braids and prepares herself for another meal with the Ice Princess.

—

Brooke is a perfect princess at dinner. She is the example Vanessa’s exasperated tutors would have used when instructing Vanessa how to act; she addresses everyone in a clear voice, bestows compliments like it’s a genuine pleasure for her, has an eloquent answer to every question. She finds herself tracking Brooke’s every movement, waiting for a stutter or stumble or some sign that she’s human.

And then Thomas arrives. Thomas, the prince Brooke is going to marry. He has dark hair and a big nose, and though he’s not ugly, he’s much too average for someone as exquisite as Brooke, a silver dress hugging her long frame, a silver tiara with delicate tear-drop crystals at the points perched on her blonde head, like it’s meant to be there. Vanessa pushes her own gold-flowered tiara up a little higher.

“Vanessa, this is Thomas. My fiancé,” Brooke introduces, and Vanessa detects a quiver in her voice.

“Pleased to have you here,” Thomas says after a bow. “I pushed hard for the alliance, you know. Wanted to have you and your family here, get to see the beautiful north.” He continues to ramble about how important this is for everyone, and Vanessa’s thoughts drift to Thomas’s hand wrapped tightly around Brooke’s, and the sweat dampening Brooke’s fingers. She stares straight ahead, obviously disinterested, and jerks him away to meet someone else when he’s done speaking.

Vanessa’s seen it before. People often didn’t take kindly to a woman ruling by herself. It was likely Brooke’s family had gotten Thomas to marry her so she became more appealing to the common folk. Thomas is just another piece on Brooke’s board, then. She didn’t need him; she would still be queen regardless. But if she wanted people to see her as anything but an unlovable queen who couldn’t even marry, then she did need him. It’s hard to be a woman, let alone a woman in royalty, these days; Vanessa has always known that, and if Brooke didn’t seem so cold and emotionless, Vanessa might have felt sorry for her.

—

The best part of the feast–what Vanessa knows will be the best part of the whole month–is the food. Nina can cook.

Gleaming silver plates are brought out by the royal kitchen staff, and the rich smells fill the entire grand hall. Vanessa looks down at steaming roast beef, glazed carrots, and crispy potatoes, her mouth already watering. She forgets her annoyance at being seated next to Brooke, balling her hands into fists to stop herself from eating before everyone is served.

Nina sets a plate gently in front of Brooke–the only one to get a plate personally from her. Nina smiles at her, and Brooke returns the only real smile Vanessa has seen, a shy one that softens her face, whispering something into Nina’s ear.

Vanessa notices Brooke’s plate is missing the carrots. The chef brought her plate out because Brooke didn’t eat carrots? A’keria is clearly wrong. How could Brooke be jealous of her when she had dinner hand-delivered by the chef?

Vanessa stabs at her roast beef like it’s Brooke’s face, juicy flavor exploding in her mouth. The entire meal, and the rich chocolate cakes for dessert, can almost entirely block Brooke out of Vanessa’s mind.

—

Vanessa’s feet are screaming in her shoes when the feast finally ends. She rushes up the stairs, whipping out of sight and ripping the heels off. The cold floor is a relief for once.

“Did you enjoy the feast?”

Vanessa jumps. She’ll never understand how Brooke moves so silently, disappearing like she’s part of the wall. She should wear a bell around her neck.

“Oh, sure. Maybe more if I had some of the accommodations you have,” Vanessa replies, stopping in front of her room. She’s not sure why she’s so upset. Brooke is a princess; why wouldn’t she get everything she wants? But something about it makes her blood boil. Maybe how everyone helped Brooke like it was an honor, when she clearly didn’t care about anyone but herself.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Does the cook always bring you your food?”

Her eyes narrow in understanding. “Carrots make my stomach hurt,” Brooke says quietly. “Nina just wanted to make sure I got the right plate.”

“Well-”

“Vanessa, please tell me what this is about. I don’t think it’s to complain about food, because you damn near licked your plate clean.” Vanessa is pleased to see there is some emotion in Brooke, her voice growing sharper, pointed enough to cut if Vanessa was soft. But she’s not soft.

Her shoes crash to the floor. She lifts herself up to meet Brooke’s eyes, anger rising as Brooke glances down at her feet. “This is about you being a perfect little princess getting everything you want and acting like the rest of us don’t matter! Everyone does everything for you and you can’t even look them in the eye, not even your own fiancé! Tell me, how much is your family paying Thomas to marry you? Because all the gold in the world couldn’t be enough to put up with you!”

She knows she’s gone too far but she can’t take it back now. She also knows she’s not wrong. She saw the way Brooke leaned away from man she’s going to marry, the way her hand wanted to escape from his grasp. He’s just another disposable piece to her.

What little color Brooke’s fair skin has drains away, turning as white as the snow on the mountains. She pulls her lip between her teeth and chews furiously. For the first time, her eyes meet Vanessa’s, and the cold green burns a hole through her as Brooke opens her mouth, voice sharp as a sword-point.

“Don’t you dare talk to me ever again.”

Vanessa enters her room and slams the door so hard the frame shakes, blocking out Brooke’s graceful walk to her own room.

She falls asleep to thoughts of revenge.

—

“Do you have my first payment?” the man asks his correspondent in the village pub.

“Absolutely,” the correspondent replies, passing over a bag of gold. “You demand a high price, I’ll admit, but it will all be worth it in the end. You’ll receive double this on completion as well. As long as you don’t miss, of course.”

“Don’t worry.” The man runs his hand over the gold. “I never miss.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #silky nutmeg ganache #akeria davenport #branjie #princess au #lesbian au #royalty au #angst #royals by athena2 #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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