twelve.
title: the curtain calls
type: fanfic
rating:pg-13
notes: this is for martyr4mylove4u. The prompt was- Chuck/Blair (of course)
"She keeps her shoes lined up by color, from red to purple, and her books alphabetically by author.
He tracks through her world, cigarette smoke and scotch at his side, leaving everything in disorder.
She never can quite care."
Chuck Bass is the personification of chaos, buttoned up and bow tied like a gift she never asked for. There isn’t a return address, though. He may just belong to her now.
This doesn’t stop him from passing around the package and it wont stop her from throwing him out. Denial is an art, ladies and gentlemen and Chuck Bass belongs to no one.
No one.
*
The Archibalds are a breed of stiff upper lips but Anne’s parents are worse. Starched voices and turned up noses- they are unabashed snobs and no, Blair doesn’t mind this very much but it hurts Nate.
It hurts Nate and what hurts Nate, she realized long ago, will always hurt her.
The Grandfather darts disapproving glances at Vanessa, eyes raised heavenward and lips curling sardonically. Blair slips her arm through Nate’s, the familiar crook of his elbow warming her fingers. It’s easy- like two plus two and it fits.
When their lips meet, it’s a bit like coming home and she smiles against his mouth, allowing him to fit his heart back into hers.
Just like that the year is forgotten.
Just like that.
*
He walks her to school, their hands locked together like lost pieces of the same puzzle. He grips her a little tighter when they walk past Humphrey.
Apparently, Rachel Carr is no longer a concern and he is currently entangled with Vanessa. Their mouths move with a fierce longing that Blair had forgotten existed and she envies the Brooklyn-ites.
She moves to kiss away the curves at the corner of her boyfriend’s lips. Chuck Bass is in her direct line of vision and she pulls back. This isn’t going to end like last time.
She won’t let it.
*
Nathaniel Archibald was her first boyfriend. He was the first boy to touch her lips, the first to run his hands along her back, the first to take her out after eleven and the first to call her sweet heart.
He was also the first to cheat on her.
Funny how that doesn’t go away.
*
Serena fades a little these days. She withers and her heart bleeds and she casts longing looks at the boy she once called her own.
It’s another mask, really because the boy that tugs her heart string isn’t a writer, he’s a brooder and he wears a girl’s heart on his sleeve.
Nate doesn’t look after the things that he takes away.
*
It starts with a coat closet.
It starts with boiling blood and burning flesh and hands that grip and slide and lips that kiss.
It ends with lips that kiss and it’s a different pair this time, not the ones that started this mess two summers ago. Blair Waldorf does not approve of messes and entaglements and complications. She ought to have remembered that all of the above are Charles Bass' specialty.
It’s fingers curling in dark hair and darker eyes melting and rolling all the way back.
It doesn’t start to end but they don’t know this yet.
*
Smirks traded for frowns when they pass each other in corridors and he hates being the secret again.
They ignore the part where it’s different from before. The part where she’s with him and she’s supposed to be done with all of this.
They ignore the last year spent trying to make this work.
They eat moans for breakfast and feast on each others sighs. He throws caution to the wind and she catches it right back, throwing it in his face like a slap when she climbs out of his limo, skirt fixed and nose pointed heaven ward.
He won’t tear apart her life again. This time- she calls the shots.
*
Dan kisses Blair on a Wednesday evening. They are winding up rehearsals for the day and he leans forward to capture her lips like he doesn’t know her almost fiancé, her fuck buddy or his girlfriend.
He tastes like Wednesday. Salty, chocolaty and sharp, and he holds her like a violinist would hold a clarinet.
Nate steps in before she wants to pull away.
She swears she reads relief in his ice blue eyes.
*
Graduation is a flurry of gowns and prepared partings. The Now Judging Breakfast Club avoids each member like a rash and Serena leaves during Blair’s speech.
It’s a small petty gesture but she brushes it off like a fly in her way. The boy smiles at her across the room and she thinks of Yale and new beginnings and that fact that she finally lost Nate.
She throws her head back, dark curls whipped by the wind and laughs at her hollow freedom and his arms wrap around her waist and hoist her to the skies. She’s going to Yale.
Yale.
type: fanfic
rating:pg-13
notes: this is for martyr4mylove4u. The prompt was- Chuck/Blair (of course)
"She keeps her shoes lined up by color, from red to purple, and her books alphabetically by author.
He tracks through her world, cigarette smoke and scotch at his side, leaving everything in disorder.
She never can quite care."
Chuck Bass is the personification of chaos, buttoned up and bow tied like a gift she never asked for. There isn’t a return address, though. He may just belong to her now.
This doesn’t stop him from passing around the package and it wont stop her from throwing him out. Denial is an art, ladies and gentlemen and Chuck Bass belongs to no one.
No one.
*
The Archibalds are a breed of stiff upper lips but Anne’s parents are worse. Starched voices and turned up noses- they are unabashed snobs and no, Blair doesn’t mind this very much but it hurts Nate.
It hurts Nate and what hurts Nate, she realized long ago, will always hurt her.
The Grandfather darts disapproving glances at Vanessa, eyes raised heavenward and lips curling sardonically. Blair slips her arm through Nate’s, the familiar crook of his elbow warming her fingers. It’s easy- like two plus two and it fits.
When their lips meet, it’s a bit like coming home and she smiles against his mouth, allowing him to fit his heart back into hers.
Just like that the year is forgotten.
Just like that.
*
He walks her to school, their hands locked together like lost pieces of the same puzzle. He grips her a little tighter when they walk past Humphrey.
Apparently, Rachel Carr is no longer a concern and he is currently entangled with Vanessa. Their mouths move with a fierce longing that Blair had forgotten existed and she envies the Brooklyn-ites.
She moves to kiss away the curves at the corner of her boyfriend’s lips. Chuck Bass is in her direct line of vision and she pulls back. This isn’t going to end like last time.
She won’t let it.
*
Nathaniel Archibald was her first boyfriend. He was the first boy to touch her lips, the first to run his hands along her back, the first to take her out after eleven and the first to call her sweet heart.
He was also the first to cheat on her.
Funny how that doesn’t go away.
*
Serena fades a little these days. She withers and her heart bleeds and she casts longing looks at the boy she once called her own.
It’s another mask, really because the boy that tugs her heart string isn’t a writer, he’s a brooder and he wears a girl’s heart on his sleeve.
Nate doesn’t look after the things that he takes away.
*
It starts with a coat closet.
It starts with boiling blood and burning flesh and hands that grip and slide and lips that kiss.
It ends with lips that kiss and it’s a different pair this time, not the ones that started this mess two summers ago. Blair Waldorf does not approve of messes and entaglements and complications. She ought to have remembered that all of the above are Charles Bass' specialty.
It’s fingers curling in dark hair and darker eyes melting and rolling all the way back.
It doesn’t start to end but they don’t know this yet.
*
Smirks traded for frowns when they pass each other in corridors and he hates being the secret again.
They ignore the part where it’s different from before. The part where she’s with him and she’s supposed to be done with all of this.
They ignore the last year spent trying to make this work.
They eat moans for breakfast and feast on each others sighs. He throws caution to the wind and she catches it right back, throwing it in his face like a slap when she climbs out of his limo, skirt fixed and nose pointed heaven ward.
He won’t tear apart her life again. This time- she calls the shots.
*
Dan kisses Blair on a Wednesday evening. They are winding up rehearsals for the day and he leans forward to capture her lips like he doesn’t know her almost fiancé, her fuck buddy or his girlfriend.
He tastes like Wednesday. Salty, chocolaty and sharp, and he holds her like a violinist would hold a clarinet.
Nate steps in before she wants to pull away.
She swears she reads relief in his ice blue eyes.
*
Graduation is a flurry of gowns and prepared partings. The Now Judging Breakfast Club avoids each member like a rash and Serena leaves during Blair’s speech.
It’s a small petty gesture but she brushes it off like a fly in her way. The boy smiles at her across the room and she thinks of Yale and new beginnings and that fact that she finally lost Nate.
She throws her head back, dark curls whipped by the wind and laughs at her hollow freedom and his arms wrap around her waist and hoist her to the skies. She’s going to Yale.
Yale.