#u kno he wanted to say sex tape or like big ass for the last one lmao

[zetterbabe]

heads up challenge with #23 lucas raymond

[artificialqueens]

Notebooks and Post-it's - Chapter 10 - (Branjie) - Thankyoumissvanjie

A/N: Thank you guys so fucking much for the response I received for last chapter. It warmed my heart! And yeah. Strap in. This is a big one.

Everything was pain.

Black spots were appearing in her vision, as she both felt present in her body, while also floating somewhere outside of it.

LINK TO AO3

Everything was pain.

Black spots were appearing in her vision, as she both felt present in her body, while also floating somewhere outside of it.

She could feel the lightning strikes of a sheer agony running up her leg.

But at the same time, she was also being able to admire the whiteness of the bone and how it contrasted so beautifully with the black of the catsuit.

Everything seemed to be moving - the crowd, the stage and everything turning into a blur as all she could see was that bone.

Brock

How had that happened?

Brock, please.

He felt phantom touches on his arms, pushing them away.

Baby, come on.

A sudden jostle made him scream in pain. The movement minuscule but enough to send flares of pure torture up his leg.

“Brock, please wake up!”

From one moment to the other he went from screaming on that stage to lying awake in bed, face to face with a worried José.

“Shit Mami, what you dreamin’ bout?”

Gasping and fumbling for the light, Brock didn’t answer him. He squinted against the sudden harsh light as he ripped off the sheet.

His ankle was hurting and then suddenly… it wasn’t.

The erratic beat of his heart filled his ears, making his head hurt.

He knew that José was talking to him, but couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t breathe.

Fuck.

Nothing was wrong.

No bone.

Just a dream.

The sweat was dripping down his chest.

It had felt so real.

“Brock. Baby. You gotta breathe right.” José’s voice was soft yet loud. Brock couldn’t concentrate as he leaned over his legs, grabbing the ankle, swearing that he could still feel the moment the bone had pierced his skin.

“Shit… my foot, my-“ He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t turn around, the memory felt too real. His chest hitching as his mind kept replaying the snap of the break.

It had felt so real.

“Shh. No talkin’ before you able to breathe like the rest of us,” he could sense that José was touching him, but his mind kept replaying the sound.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

“But I-“ the black spots were getting bigger. His throat felt tight, and he could feel himself going from feeling tense to experiencing full-on panic.

Snap.

Snap.

“Boo. You’re panicking,”

Snap

“Shit, Mami, imma need you to look at me.” José’s voice seemed far away, as Brock’s eye were zeroed in on his full functioning and definitely not broken ankle.

Snap.

Snap.

“No… I. My… foot-” His lungs were on fire.

He somewhat clinically registered that he would pass out if he didn’t start breathing regularly.

But the bone.

“Hey. You good. Just a dream. Nothin’ real. Yo foot is still smelly and ugly, and your face still cute.” José was trying to speak low, he was trying to seem comforting, but it couldn’t reach him. His eyes were glued to the ankle.

Snap.

Snap.

“Fu-” It had been such a long time since he had last had a panic attack. He needed to get this under control. He needed to just breathe.

But…

Snap.

“Bitch, what did I just say ‘bout speaking before yo breathing?” He could feel him moving on the bed, while also noting the alarmed tone that had appeared in his voice.

“I…”

“Stop. Brock. Look me at me.” Suddenly his face was turned and he looked into José’s eyes. The deep brown eyes that were the definition of home and comfort.

“Breathe. Can you do that for me, baby?” He tried to take a deep breath but it only sent him into a coughing fit.

José was breathing in deeply, exaggerating for Brock’s sake.

“Good. You just be followin’ me. Easy peasy, just in and out. You got this.”

For minutes they sat there on the bed.

Faces inches apart as Brock tried to copy his breathing pattern. Trying to make his lungs realise that the air wasn’t the enemy. That breathing was a good thing.

José eyes shone with worry. He had never seen Brock like this. So out of it.

As he got his breath under control, he could feel his skin prickle from the intimacy of what had just happened. He felt exposed.

It made him pull back from José. Made him avoid eye contact.

What the fuck was he doing?

“Okay?”

“Yeah, wow. Sorry.” He quickly got up from the bed, avoiding him, avoiding whatever had just happened. He felt a phantom pain in his ankle and wanted to scream.

Just a dream. Nothing more.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all ‘bout?” The care and worry in his voice made him want to cry.

If he closed his eyes he could make himself believe that this was more than just fucking.

That what they were doing was the beginning of a restart to their relationship and not just a mistake that kept on happening.

“I need a drink,” This was all getting too real. He could feel his frail heart already getting cracks. The glue and tape he had used to repair it after last time slowly dissolving.

“Brock,” He was crawling over the bed, trying to reach for his hand.

“I am getting a drink”

“B…”

He walked out of the bedroom to find the rest of the wine, using it as an excuse to also get a single moment alone.

He knew that he was giving mixed signals, knew that José was probably sitting on the bed confused.

But fuck, he couldn’t take the idea of getting comforted by him, knowing that it was only temporary.

Knowing that the moment this tour was over he would go back to L.A. and Brock would…

Go somewhere else.

Finding the wine, forgotten on a table, he quickly downed both glasses. Feeling more centred after tasting the perfect mixture of sweetness and acidity on his tongue.

“Now really-“ the loud voice from the bedroom pulled him out of his musing.

“José, I do not want to talk about this,”

Pouring one more glass, Brock could feel all of his walls getting back in place, his armour covering him like a second skin.

He needed to protect himself.

Or stop this.

Either one.

Taking a deep breath, relishing the fact that the air didn’t get caught somewhere between his throat and lungs, he walked back into the bedroom.

“Well that’s too bad Brookie poo, cause I ain’t asking, I’m telling. So you best sit that lovely lil ass down and start splaining. What happened?”

The worry was etched into every corner of his face, the slant of his brows and the downward turn of his mouth giving the illusion that he cared more about Brock than him just being a good lay.

José must have gotten better at his acting since the season had ended.

“You can leave if you want,” Brock was tired. His body felt like it had run a marathon while his mind was going in circles, spiralling out of control as the horror of the dream mixed with the sweet torture of what he was doing to himself.

Really.

Casual sex with the ex that you still love? In what fucking universe was that ever going to work out.

“Shuddup! I ain’t leaving, so get talking.” Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he had his back turned toward him. He couldn’t look at him and see that worry.

It hurt too much.

“My foot. I-I.. broke my foot.” It was a nightmare that he had suffered through countless of times, breaking a limb one of the biggest fears of a ballet dancer. But it had been years since he had last had it.

“When?”

“No, in the dream. I broke my foot. In the dream. During a performance.” he could still hear it.

Snap

Could still see the shock in Vanjie’s eyes as he fell.

“Babe… it wasn’t real,” A hand was tentatively running up and down his back. Brock hated how his body betrayed him, as he felt himself relax under the touch.

��But what if it had been?”

“That stupid, cause it ain’t, no use in thinking about it, Boo… put down the wine and come back to bed.” The bed rustled lightly, as a small kiss was placed on his shoulder.

And then one more. And more.

“Fuck. I-I….” he could feel all his defences falling away. He could deal with the utter feeling of despair tomorrow. Tonight he could bury himself in José and hide away from the reality of what they were doing. Placing the glass on the side table he moved to turn around.

“Brock, I get it, I get all of this.” All the effort that had been put into making him relax flew out the window, as his shoulders tensed.

“Shut up, you don’t fucking know shit-“ he moved away from the bed, standing up so he could look him in the eye.

“Stop.” It was amazing how one word could have such an effect. José looked him calmly in the eye, his face displaying too many emotions for Brock to decipher. “I get it, Mami. You think my ADD ass don’t get panicky too?”

Of course.

“I… shit. Sorry, I’m all over the place,” all the anger left him, his shoulders dropping as he realised how stupid all of this was.

“Don’t go all Canadian on me, bitch. You remembered your meds?”

All he could do was nod. His whole body felt heavy. The dream, the panic attack and even this conversation were catching up with him.

“Good. Wanna came back to bed. You look dead on your feet, Mami.”

Slowly he got back into bed. José turning off the light and draping himself all over him.

It should have felt comforting.

His presence should have shut up the voices in Brock’s head.

Instead, it just reinforced how much he missed this.

Him.

Them.

Together.

——————

Jason has been a champ. Leaving them alone for a whole day, even though José knew that he wanted to drag them outside.

The weather was, for once, amazing in England, and they should enjoy it while they could.

Jason had been a Good Judy and left them alone to fuck each other into oblivion.

But even the best of Judy’s had a limit.

So you guys ready to actually go and get something to eat or are you still “catching” up? - J

Shut. Up. Jason. B don’t kno u kno. So be cool - V

He had left Brock in his room, needing some new clothes and a shower, and just a moment to go through the night on his own.

The sex had left him slightly raw, the intensity and emotion had been amazing and terrifying.

They were so good together… physically.

There were so much trust, so much love and so much care… and yet.

The moment you involved feelings and the mere idea of commitment, it would all crumble. Something happened to both of them when they were asked to deal with the idea of being monogamous.

It made Brock run away and hide, while José instead started having unreasonable expectations of his boyfriend being the personification of a Nicholas Sparks novel.

It was why they had broken up.

But the sex though…

The sex was out of this world, it had been then and it was now.

There were still feelings. Still a whole lotta love.

Yeah. But you best be silent and say nothin’… he ain’t looking good today. - V

He didn’t. When José had left the room he had looked lost and tired in a way that he never had before.

The nightmare had really shaken him.

To be honest, it had also scared José. Waking up to Brock’s scream had been terrifying, and it had taken every ounce of self-control to not go into full panic mode.

But he had managed.

Barely.

He had wanted to talk it through with him this morning, but Brock has withdrawn from him, almost cheering with relief when Jason had written, as it seemed to give him the perfect excuse to kick out José.

His phone chimed, bringing him out of his thought spiral.

Miss Vanjivanjie! Move your ass, we’re waiting for you! - J

Putting on his cap, he grabbed his fanny pack and walked out of the room.

Time to be social.

——————

It had been a long day.

They were their usual messy Branjie idiots.

Shopping, doing Instagram lives and eating amazing food.

The weather was ridiculously hot, and they were all soaked with sweat.

That didn’t stop them from going to a club.

Didn’t stop José from dancing all night long.

Didn’t stop him from cosying up with every guy in the club.

He could feel his eyes on him. The way they were tracing every inch of his body.

He could just imagine him sitting in the corner with his beer and scowling, probably not even participating in the conversation that Jason was trying to have with him.

He knew this game.

Had played it multiple times.

Smirking, he leaned closer to the tall blonde man in front of him. Seductively touching his bare chest, licking his lips suggestively.

He could almost feel the anger from across the room.

He was cute. But José had no intention of going home with him.

None.

It wasn’t about the trade looking hopefully at him but instead about the scowling blonde sitting in the corner.

He wanted to go home with that idiot.

His idiot.

“So… you wanna get out of here?” Those words would normally have made him shiver in anticipation, but the prospect of going home with the angry Canadian was way more enticing than this hopeful hunk of a man.

“Nah, bitch. I’m just waitin’ for this fine ‘tender to give me ma drink. Hoes gotta stay hydrated, ya know,” he kept on touching him, though. He needed the illusion, as it would turn Brock into a green-eyed monster that would give him exactly what he needed.

A jealous Brock had always been his favourite.

“You sure?” He looked pointedly as the hand still caressing his chest, indicating that he was giving him very mixed signals.

“Oh yeah babe, I got my eyes on the prize tonight, and Mary, we ain’t leaving ‘till I’ve got it. You see that tall blonde scowling at us? Wearing a dumbass t-shirt and ridiculous shorts?” He leaned closer still, whispering in his ear, knowing how it would look from Brock’s perspective, feeling giddy with the anticipation of the night to come.

“Yeah.”

“He my stupid idiot ex.”

“No, really?”

“Yup and imma need yo assti-asssisi… your help to make sure that he gon give me that good dick tonight,”

“I don’t think you need help, he looks ready to kill me,”

“Trust me, baby… You gon be important in helping me get what I want. Best believe. So you in?”

“You’re hot… so, why not?”

“That’s the spirit, mama!”

—————-

He was dancing. Though dry humping was probably a more apt description of what was going on.

He had lost the blonde trade a while ago, changing partners with every number, knowing that his moves were luring everybody in and not caring.

He didn’t want them.

New hands gripped his hips, and he followed them, ready to use the newcomer to accomplish his plan.

“I know what you’re doing,” the whisper sent a shiver through his body. He knew that voice well.

It was dripping with promises of long nights and pleasurable pain.

He leaned back against the arms that were circling him, slowly moving to the rhythm, wanting to turn around, but knew that the right grip would stop any attempt.

It wasn’t a part of their game.

“Oh really, Mami. And what’s that,” grinding back into Brock, feeling his arousal, grinning because that meant that he had won.

“You’re misbehaving,” one hand went underneath his barely-there tank top, and it took every ounce of self-control that José had in him, not to turn into a puddle of want on the dance floor.

He could feel the power and jealousy that was rolling of the blond. He knew he was in for a night.

“And so if I am?” He was happy that the music was loud, otherwise, the whole club would have been able to hear his whiny moans.

“Well,” the world was whispered right next to his ear, the warmth of his breath, adding to the need that José felt all over, “I guess I’ll have to punish you, then.”

His teeth softly grazed his ear, making a broken moan escape José’s lips, his eyes closing and body shivering in anticipation…

He was ready to turn around, get on his knees and just suck him off right then and there. Not a single care about the people in the club.

He loved it when Brooke got like this. When he was exuding dominance.

“What are you gonna do, boo?” The arms around him tightened for a second and then they were gone.

The loss of touch happened so quickly that it took José a moment to gather his wits and turn around, preparing himself to meet the steely gaze of a jealous Brock.

Instead, what he found was a crowd of dancing club goers.

Brock not anywhere in sight.

He had left.

That. Fucker.