#but this fic consumed me for the last few weeks xo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

renhaswritersblock · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 1: Facesitting||Anonymous Sex - Johnson

Word Count: 2174

Warnings: Oral, overstimulation, faded sex, slight angst

A/N: Hello! So, I kinda got a bit carried away with this one *looks at the word count* hehe. But I hope you enjoy reading this fic. Was a bit hesitant at first while writing this smut, but with a few readings from a couple of friends, I continued writing! It's sort of unfinished, a work in progress. The rest of the kinktober day's will probably be short, not sure yet. I have a few exams this week and work is being a cunt, so the writing will be delayed for a short while, sorry. Also, I refer to Johnson in this fic as "The Man" cause of the anonymous sex part. Anyways, again, hope you enjoy reading! Let me know what you think. I do accept feedback/criticism, just don't abuse that power. And I hope ya'll are having a wonderful day. -Ren

~~~

“So, do you mind telling me where the hell we’re going, Frankie?” the strawberry-blonde glanced over at her friend sitting beside her, gripping anxiously at the steering wheel.

Frankie had her head leaned halfway against the open window of the moving car. Feeling the cool summer-night breeze hit her face while her hand traces circles on her wooden thigh. A small yet noticeable grin leisurely forms on the brunette’s face, thinking about tonight’s plans. She had been looking forward to this night for some time, finally be able to get away from the Bang-a-Rang - a place she once called home but is now a prison - and go wherever the river takes her.

“Hello? Earth to Frankie.” Frankie opened her eyes, turning her head swiftly towards the calling of her name. “Are you going to answer my question? Or do I have to turn the damn car around and drive back?”

Frankie pressed her lips together, letting out an exasperate sigh. “You worry too much, V,” she finally replied in a soft, choleric voice.

“No shit,” V retorted, “I rather not have Aunt Rosemary or Dennis be on my fucking ass if you’re doing something that could get us in trouble. Or worse, killed.” She glanced once more at Frankie with a furrowed brow. The brunette rolled her eyes with a snarl, glaring back out the window, head resting in hand. The pale broad’s narrowed eyes dropped into a pitiful look, sighing as she turned her attention back on the road. “Look, hon. I’m trying to be there for you more and back you up, but you can’t just leave me in the dark. You know what happened last time, fuck, it scared the living shit out of me.” Frankie’s eyes darted down at her wrist, seeing the visible dark-faded bruises wrapped around her like a cuff. Her face scrunched mournfully at the memory, remembering how painfully tight those bastards tied the chains. “I don’t want you to die, Frankie,” V finished, becoming teary-eyed.

The strawberry-blonde jumped at the gentle touch of something weighing on her shoulder. Looking over, she saw the olive-skin hand belonging to Frankie, giving a light squeeze for reassurance. “Didn’t know you cared this much about me, V. Thanks,” Frankie gave a half sympathetic smile, V returning a similar smile. “But you should save that melancholic shit-talking for your butch when it gets close to war,” She quipped, making V scowl and slap Frankie’s hand off her shoulder.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Frankie couldn’t help but tilt her head back and release a cackle as V continued staring angrily at the road.

“I’m just fucking with you, puta. You know I love you.” The brunette adjusted herself in her seat, now sitting up straight. “Anyways, a little birdie sent me a note to meet them at this motel in town,” Frankie pulled out a wrinkled note from the pocket of her shorts, handing it to V, “Mira. Thought I could -you know- check it out.” V quickly snatched the piece of paper, silently reading it while keeping an eye on the road.

In town only for tonight. Meet me at the Woodland Motel at 8 pm sharp, don’t be late. See you there.

Ps. bring the thing XO

“The thing?” V quirked up a brow, turning to Frankie with a puzzled expression. All the brunette could do was shrug at her response, fixing her spaghetti strap. V scoffed as she shook her head in disbelief, “Do you even know who you’re meeting? It could be some crazy lunatic who’ll bash your brains out or make you end up in a tub full of ice with a missing organ!” Frankie reached to grab the note out of her friend’s hand as she was waving it around in the air. “Honestly, Frankie. Do you not see the red flags here?”

“Nope.” The brunette answered with a popping sound on the p, “Plus, I know him. Known him for a pretty long time. And besides-” she bends down, tracing her fingers on the smooth wood of her prosthesis. Finding the split crack, she gently pulled at it to reveal a hollowed compartment and a revolver nestled inside. “-if I ever am in danger. I always have this.” She took the gun out of its chamber, swaying it in the air.

---

Lighting another cigarette, the man watched from his car as the brunette struts out of the front office towards the parked convertible, bending down to lean against the car’s open window of the driver’s side.

The last time he saw her, her shaggy hair was long and vibrant, reaching down to her backside, her bangs acting as curtains to shield away her flaws, as she called it. Now her hair was short - below the ears and sleek, it reminded him of Betty Boop.

It was unclear what she was saying to her friend, but not even a minute passed when the convertible came to life and started to drive off, leaving the girl wiggly waving goodbye. Once the car was out of sight, she twirled in the direction of her room.

He couldn’t help but stare longingly at her ass. How her shorts hugged tightly around the brunette, revealing more of her curves and backside. Even her tight-fitted tank top that displayed her womanly busty’s made the man’s cock twitch as they bounced merrily.

When she entered the motel room, the man waited a couple more minutes, taking one good draw of his cigarette puffing out a cloud of smoke before exiting the vehicle. Throwing the cig on the ground, he swaggers across the street, taking out a spare room key from the pocket of his blazer, and approached quietly to the door to room 6.

---

Frankie let out a faint moan, feeling a wave of pleasure overtake her as she played frantically with her clit. Her face growing red hot, firmly cupping one of her breasts, whimpering lowly when she twisted the nipple to feel the burning friction and pressed down on a particular spot of her clit that made her see stars.

After she stepped inside the room, the brunette did not waste time quickly disposing of all her clothes and hopped daintily on top of the bed, not even bothering to turn on the light. She wanted to start slowly, gradually roaming her hands around her body and steadily rubbing her slit on the outer layer of her boxers, but the brunette was impatient. Hungry for the pleasure that would push her over the edge. Intimacy she hadn’t felt for a long time.

Now, sprawled out on the bed, Frankie writhed in frustration, her free hand clenching the pillow below her head as she concentrated on the small squelching sounds of her pussy from teasing her bud. Eyes shut tight, biting back her cries of bliss. She could feel it rising, the knot in her stomach tightening, aching to be released. Yet Frankie refused to, not wanting to climax so soon. Not without him.

She wondered where he was. Wishing -fuck- begging for him to show up and claim her, ruin her, make her a mess. Turning her head toward the nightstand, she saw the red numbers illuminate from the digital clock reading 8:22 pm. Maybe he was running late. The river always kept him busy and distracted, slowly drifting him away from her, leaving her to sink further into the watery depths of the current to drown. Maybe she was set up, that this was another one of the pin-up’s sick jokes to get back at her. Frankie’s chest ached tightly at the many dejecting thoughts consuming her, stopping and removing her hand out of her boxers. He’s not showing up, Frankie thought, tears beginning to cloud her vision.

Suddenly, a pair of hands swiftly grabbed her by the leg and thigh, pulling the brunette down at the edge of the bed. Frankie released a startled squeal, opening her eyes widely to see the dark outline of a man hovering above, two dimly lit orbs longingly staring at her. She gazed back up at the man with a slack-jaw, blushing. Wondering how long had he been here, watching her touch herself soundlessly. Her breath hitched, jolting when she felt the cold but comforting touch of the man, delicately tracing her slender frame. Sending her body trembling every time the tip of his fingers draw near a sensitive bit. He moves down to her breasts, burying his face between them, giving small pecks and soft bites of reassurance that left the brunette flush, turning her head to the side biting her fist to hold back the moans. Noticing this, the man then latched his mouth onto one of her nipples. Frankie hissed and jerked at the pleasurable shock as he sank his teeth into her, granting a loud moan to escape from her lips. She could sense the man looking up, smirking smugly. He repeated his action one more time, greedily wanting to hear her whines and soundless beggings.

Hooking a finger on the waistband of her boyshorts, he steadily tugged the fabric down, opening her legs to fully exposing her wetness. The brunette’s breathed heavily as the man left a trail of tender kisses, going down between her legs. Before he could press his lips against her heat, his hand brushed her thigh accidentally, making the girl flinch and back away out of instinct. He looked up at her with a furrowed brow, questioning what he did to make her panic and flee so slightly. Then it hit him. His eyes darted back at her leg and at the wooden prosthesis still strapped onto her mid-thigh, realizing the mistake he made. He looked back up to her, kissing her other leg apologetically, signaling that he wasn’t going to do anything she was thinking of again. Frankie mumbled an ok before moving hesitantly closer, carefully leaning back and opening her legs once more.

Immediately, he sinks his face into her cunt, dragging his tongue up and down her slit to savor her juice. Frankie whined and stirred, arching her back at the feeling of him vigorously eating her out. As his mouth focused on engorging her clit, he worked two fingers into her hole, perfectly sliding inside her.

The brunette choked out a moan at the intrusion, grabbing ahold of the bedsheets as he slowly dragged his fingers out and quickly shoved them back in, setting a rough pace that hit her g-spot with every thrust. Her hips began to move to meet his fingers and tongue as he proceeded to fuck her, picking up his pace and going knuckles deep. She felt pressure build in the pit of her stomach, increasing by the second. With a brisk roll of his tongue over her clit, Frankie arched her back and spasmed into a powerful orgasm.

“Oh, f-fuck!” Frankie’s eyes rolled back as her body shook violently, huffing out of breath at the sensation.

When the brunette came down from her high, she thought that was the end of it. Only for the man to grab both her hips and pulled Frankie closer to his face, continuing to burrow his tongue into her, repeatedly hitting her sweet spot. Frankie tensed up at the feeling of being stimulated again, bracing for another climax that was closing in. She reached down to try and pull his head away from her. To no avail, the man moving it away by extending his hand out to hers, fingers intertwined. No matter how many times she squirmed away from the man’s face, he would always go forward and proceed to work on her cunt, digging his nails into her skin. Then the brunette made an attempt to roll over to detach his lips from her folds, but it only flipped him over to his back, pulling her to sit on his face.

“S-stop. I-It’s too -fuck- It’s too much,” The brunette arose, gripping at the man’s hands as support, as well as to pry them open, “Fu-Fuck, I’m gonna- AH!” She cried out, snapping her head back as another orgasm came crashing shockwaves of ecstasy into her. The man emitted a mm, parting his lips away from her snatch to breathe. Frankie took it as an opportunity to free herself from him, wearily getting off and slumping next to the man on her back, also catching her breath.

Not even a minute had passed when she heard the metal clang of a belt and looked down to see the silhouette of the man seated upwards. He began to remove his pants, tugging them down to his knees, and turned to face the brunette.

“Just give me a minute.” She responded with a raspy voice, lifting herself gradually. Frankie perched at the side of the bed, unclasping the leather strap of her prosthesis. Removing her leg, she leaned it against the wall and crawled back to the middle, spreading out to present herself to the man. With a slight close-lipped smile, she purred, “Ready when you are, cariño.”

#tppkinktober2021 #johnson reprisal #reprisal johnson #kinktober #david dastmalchian

32 notes · View notes

writethelifeyouwant · 4 years

Text

Dive Bar Ch. 11/11 - Fin

Pairing: Dean x Sam

Rating: 18+

Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined.

WC: 3,001

Tags: brother/brother incest, loss of anal virginity, anal sex, blow job, incest kink, dirty talk, top!sam, bottom!dean, happy ending - sue me

Beta: @negans-lucille-tblr and @daydream3r-xo

Divider: @firefly-graphics ❤️

A/N: Okay I’m gonna do a separate post with a long sappy note so this post doesn’t become a mile long but TLDR - thank you for reading and coming with me on this wild ride 🥰

Fic Masterlist

Chapter 10

A few weeks later

Another hunt. Another drink. Another dive bar.

Sam killed his beer before Dean could even get his lips around his own, and once he saw Sam downing the drink, condensation running over his knuckles, his lips, down his throat– Dean didn’t care he had lost the game, he just wanted to lick the moisture off Sam’s neck.

“Take a picture,” Sam laughed when he noticed Dean’s staring, “it’ll last longer.” Dean dropped his gaze to his bottle and took a long swig. “Something on your mind?”

“Wh– nope, nothing,” Dean denied, seeing his beer off. “I’m buying right? You want the same?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam looked suspicious, but let Dean go off to get their second round.

Dean grabbed the bartender’s attention and held up two fingers, pointing to the bottles he was returning, then dropped his head in his hands. God, he had to get himself under control. He couldn’t just zone out every time Sam did something that made him half hard in his jeans – he’d wind up getting them both killed at some point. It didn’t help that every time Sam had tried to fuck him, he’d chicken out the second he got another look at Sam’s dick. He needed to nut up and go through with it already. The bartender pushed new drinks at Dean, breaking him out of his reverie.

When he spun back towards Sam with their drinks, he saw a table of girls a few spots over from them making eyes at Sam, and he noticed one in particular looked exactly his type. She had those ‘come hither’ bedroom eyes, long hair you could wrap your hands up in, great boobs – This is perfect.

“You’ve got an admirer little bro,” Dean teased when he dropped the fresh bottle on the table in front of Sam. Sam glanced up and noticed the girl Dean was talking about, dropping his head behind his hair quickly. Dean caught her eye and gave her a wink before taking a draught of his beer and turning back to Sam.

“Stop being a jerk,” Sam shoved at Dean, “it’s not nice to lead people on.”

“What if I’m not?” Dean held his breath as he watched Sam’s face, unsure of how he was going to react to that.

“What are you asking me, Dean?” Sam fingered the label on his beer bottle – one of his nervous tics – and Dean realised he fucked that up.

“No! That’s – shit, that’s not what I meant. I meant like, what we did before, with Dany, we… y’know.” Dean fumbled through an explanation, but he saw Sam let out a breath and knew he was okay.

“You want to have another threesome?” Sam smirked, bemused, which was better than pissed so Dean was fine with that.

“Why not?” he shrugged, glancing back to the girl, who was still checking them both out, before focusing back on Sam. “We were pretty damn good at it the first time,” Dean grinned, pulling a huff from Sam.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, still smirking at Dean, “it was good.” Sam’s smirking was starting to unnerve Dean a little.

“And, y’know, the past couple weeks have been – awesome, really – but maybe we uh, spice things up again, huh?” Dean waited for Sam to chime in with something, maybe tell him what all the goddamn smirking was about.

“Already getting bored of me, Dean?” Sam’s smirk was actually becoming irritating, now.

“You know that’s not what I meant, stop being a bitch,” Dean grunted. Sam laughed to himself and took another drink. “So, what d’ya say, Sammy?” Dean waggled his brow, trying to draw an answer out of his brother. “Show another gal the time of her life?”

Sam could tell Dean was stalling. He’d been jumpy the past few times Sam had brought up having actual sexual intercourse – his cock in Dean’s ass – saying he wanted it, but not letting Sam go past fingering him open a little. And now Dean was finding another excuse to put it off, and Sam was getting desperate. It was time to give Dean a push off his cliff.

“We can do it again,” Sam nodded, rounding the table so he was behind Dean, and looking towards the girl he’d been pointing out. “But not just yet.”

“Hm?” Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, puzzled. Sam bent over his big brother, bringing his lips close enough to his ear that he wouldn’t have to shout to be heard in the crowded bar.

“I don’t want anyone else fucking you before I get the chance to do it properly.” Sam felt Dean shiver against him. “Gonna let me fuck you, big brother?”

“Fuck,” Dean exhaled, trying to compose himself behind a swig of his drink.

“How much longer you gonna hold out on me?” Sam scraped his teeth along the back of Dean’s ear, pulling a whimper from him.

“You know what, fine,” Dean stood abruptly, knocking Sam off balance behind him. “You wanna do this? Let’s do this. Get in the car, Sam.”

Sam grinned triumphantly as he followed Dean out of the bar and out to the Impala, back to their motel room for the night.

Sam pushed Dean against the door the second it closed behind them. They were good at this part. He could take Dean apart with a few calculated bites along his neck and some very enthusiastic kissing, and Dean was becoming more and more comfortable letting himself be putty in Sam’s hands.

Not that Dean didn’t have the same effect on Sam. A short tug on his hair and Dean’s tongue between his lips and he would melt in his brother’s arms. Dean was a mind-blowing kisser.

Sam trailed his hands down Dean’s arms and grabbed his wrists, pulling him off the wall and towards the bed; still messy from the previous night. He sat Dean down on the mattress and stood back to strip off his shirts. He felt Dean’s hands at his belt undoing the buckle so he could pull his jeans down, and Sam kicked them off along with his boots. Dean went to unbutton his own shirt but Sam stopped him.

“Hey – I want to do that.” Dean gave him a confused sort of smile, but let Sam’s fingers cover his and take over stripping him out of his layers. He kissed Dean again, sucking on his lower lip and licking into his mouth, inhaling his every breath - consuming him. He dragged his fingers over every inch of skin that was revealed as he pulled off the flannel and then the t-shirt, kissing down his legs as he tugged him out of his jeans, before he had to kneel to unlace Dean’s boots. Dean propped himself up on his elbows to look down at Sam, still knelt at his feet.

“I know what you’re doing Sam, so you can quit it now,” Dean griped. “Stop treating me like some blushing virgin, I’m not a girl.” Sam grinned wolfishly and sprang back on the bed once he’d gotten Dean’s jeans off.

“No, you’re definitely not a girl,” he agreed, squeezing the bulge in Dean’s underwear and pulling a groan from his brother. “But I’m still gonna make you scream like one,” Sam breathed against Dean’s lips before he devoured them. “Gonna make you feel so good, Dean,” Sam groaned, pushing his hand into Dean’s briefs and grabbing hold of his length. “Love your cock so much, so hot,” Sam wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore, whatever popped into his head was going straight to his mouth without any filter, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Dean had gotten his hand inside Sam’s boxers and was jerking him off now too.

“God, wanted this for so long,” Sam moaned, sucking a bruise into the join between Dean’s shoulder and his throat. “Thought about fucking you so much,” Sam admitted, to hell with embarrassment at this point. “When I went home with that guy from the bar, I wanted it to be you. I thought about you when I was fucking him – said your name when I came inside him.”

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean groaned, his mocking tone not disguising his arousal very well, “s’cute you’re so sweet on me.”

“Shut up,” Sam bit at Dean’s lip gently, “before I make you.”

“So then make me,” Dean growled, flipping them so Sam was below him and he could grind their erections together while he sucked his own mark into Sam’s skin. He dragged his lips down Sam’s chest, goal evident. Sam didn’t want to get too carried away, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Dean’s mouth on him; blowjobs were a skill Dean had really been perfecting over the past few weeks.

Dean hummed happily when he got Sam’s cock in his mouth, and Sam relished the wet warmth that enveloped him, thrusting up into Dean involuntarily.

“Someone’s eager,” Dean chuckled before taking Sam back in his mouth.

“Someone’s being a tease,” Sam grunted, hauling himself up on his elbows so he could pull Dean off his dick and throw him onto his side on the bed. They kissed again, Dean wrapping his arms around Sam and getting his hands in his hair, like he knew Sam liked. Without breaking from the kiss, Sam grabbed for the lube that was still under the pillow from the previous night.

Dean was expecting what came next, and didn’t flinch when he felt Sam’s fingers trailing over his ass and dipping between his cheeks to find his entrance. Sam kept the touches light, teasing – soothing – until he felt Dean relax against him again.

“I want you to do it,” Sam breathed against his neck. Dean didn’t follow.

“Want me to do what?”

“Get yourself ready for me,” Sam elaborated, kissing along Dean’s neck. “Want you to finger yourself open for me.”

“Why?” Dean wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea, but Sam had always been the one to do this part before.

“Because you’ll be able to feel when you’re ready, won’t be as nervous.” Sam kissed further down Dean’s chest, stopping to suck one of his nipples into his mouth, and pulling a gasp from Dean. “Plus, I think it would be hot,” he grinned up at Dean. “Want to see fucking yourself so good on your fingers that you’re begging for my cock.”

Dean felt his cock twitch against Sam’s hip, and he had to admit, when he said it like that, it did sound fucking incredible. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He grabbed the lube from Sam and turned over so he was on his knees, letting his shoulders drop to the mattress, his ass in the air.

“Fuck, you look hot like that,” Sam moaned. Dean could see Sam was touching himself as he watched and found that he liked putting on a bit of a show.

“You like watching me, Sammy?” Dean shivered as he pushed one slicked-up finger into himself. “Like thinkin’ ‘bout how much you wanna fuck me while you touch yourself?” He started to move his finger inside himself, in and out, searching… “Like thinkin’ about your big brother when you get off?” Dean moaned when his fingertip skirted by the spot he was trying to find.

“Fuck, yes,” Sam breathed, eyes fixed on Dean’s finger moving in and out of his ass. “Add another one, Dean.” Dean did as he was told and added a second finger, hissing at the stretch. “There you go.” Sam reached between his legs to play with Dean’s cock, and his hand felt so fucking good against his skin. That, coupled with the fact that Dean had managed to find the spot inside his ass Sam had shown him that made everything go fuzzy, Dean was pretty blissed out. “Think you can do one more for me?” Sam squeezed his fingers in a ring around the head of Dean’s cock, drawing another whimper from him.

Dean nodded and pulled his hand away to add more lube, and went back to his hole with three fingers. He pressed at his entrance slowly, testing the give, and found that when he finally pushed his fingers inside, he loved how full he felt, and he loved the small tingle of pain that was mixing with the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck.” Pumping his fingers into himself faster, Dean groaned wantonly, unreserved, relaxing into the feeling of being stretched so open.

“Think you’re ready?” Sam asked, obviously hopeful.

“Yeah,” Dean gasped, “yeah, Sam, want you. Please.” He let himself sag to the bed and rolled over onto his back. Sam kissed him shortly and pulled back, searching his eyes for one last okay, before Dean felt the tip of Sam’s cock pressing against his entrance.

When Sam pushed inside of him, Dean’s whole world whited out. He was bigger than the fingers he had been working himself with, and so fucking hard, but Dean loved every second of it. He couldn’t believe he’d made Sam wait to do this for so long.

“Oh my god, Sam, fuck -“ Dean panted.

“Told ya I’d make you feel good,” Sam groaned, pushing in a little more. “You’re doing so good, De, taking me so fucking good, so fucking tight.”

“Goddamn, you really never shut up, do ya Sammy?”

“Sorry,” Sam ducked his head into Dean’s neck, embarrassed.

“No, hey,” Dean pulled Sam back up to face him. “S’okay little brother. I, uh – I kinda like it.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s grin was unsure, but relieved.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, kissing along the column of Sam’s neck, sucking the skin between his lips to leave another mark. “Never would have thought you’d be so good at dirty talk.”

“That’s not the only thing I’m good at,” Sam smirked, and pressed the last inch of himself inside Dean, pulling a muffled ‘fuck’ from Dean. “You still good?” Sam checked.

“So good,” Dean moaned, pressing his hips back into Sam’s, like he was hoping to fuse the two of them together permanently.

“Can I move yet, or do you need a minute?” Sam asked.

“Would you just shut up and fuck me alrea –” Dean’s gripe was cut off abruptly by a moan when Sam pulled his hips back and slammed home again. Dean couldn’t get too many words out after that – the pleasure thrumming through his body had short circuited his brain. All he could think about, all he could feel, was Sam’s cock moving inside of him. The hot drag of Sam’s flesh against his was intoxicating, and he felt himself fucking his hips back up into Sam’s without necessarily deciding to do that.

“Shit, that’s it baby,” Sam hissed through gritted teeth, picking up the pace of his thrusts. “Feel so good Dean.” Dean could barely manage a whimper in acknowledgement. Sam leaned back on his heels to get better leverage, moving Dean’s ankles to his shoulders, and on the next thrust in he found Dean’s prostate, which Dean’s choked whine made very clear. “There we go,” Sam grinned down at him. “Bet you're glad I didn’t let you go home with that girl now, huh? No girl could ever make you feel like this, could they?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “Fuck no.” And it was true. Sex had never felt this intense before, this all-consuming, this nerve-frying. Sam hadn’t even touched his cock since he’d pushed inside him and he was already so fucking close to losing it. And he knew Sam could tell, too.

“You gonna cum for me, big brother?” Sam started fucking into him even harder, quicker. “Gonna cum with your little brother’s cock inside you?” Dean thought he nodded, but to be honest, he couldn’t be sure. “Good,” Sam groaned, “because I am so fucking close.”

Dean reached up to pull Sam back down to him. He wanted every inch of his body covered by Sam’s, wanted to drown under him. They kissed fiercely, tongues tangling and teeth clacking against each other as Sam fucked him faster and faster. The sweat coating their bodies made for an easy slide of Sam’s stomach against Dean’s cock and that extra bit of pressure was exactly what he needed to finally spiral out of control. He came noiselessly, any sound he might have made dying in his throat as every muscle in his body seized up. Thick white spurts caught against the hair on their chests, smearing between them.

“Holy shit,” Sam gasped as he suddenly ceased his frantic pace and froze, cock buried inside of Dean as deep as it could go. “Fuck,” Sam’s whimper was barely audible, but it was there. Dean’s hands absentmindedly combed through Sam’s hair as they both calmed down their breathing, soothing his little brother like he’d always tried to do, even though, given the circumstances, it probably should have been the other way around right now.

Eventually, Sam pulled out carefully and flopped down on the vacant side of the mattress. Dean dragged the crumpled sheet from the foot of the bed and wiped over his chest, then over Sam’s, to get the cum off before it dried too badly, before dropping back against the pillows and rolling into Sam’s side. He felt Sam startle for a moment before pulling Dean against him, arm curling around his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay, man?” Sam’s voice was soft, like he was worried he would scare Dean off.

“Yeah,” Dean considered, “yeah, I’m good, brother.”

“Not too disappointed I didn’t let that blonde come back with us?”

Dean laughed. “No, Sammy, not disappointed.”

“What if I said that … I thought that – maybe – I wanted you all to myself from now on?” Sam’s eyes caught his, hesitant.

“I’d say…” Dean let sharp exhale and a short laugh. “I’d say, it’s always been you and me. And I’ve never needed anyone else.”

Sam beamed down at him. “Good enough for me.”

Tags: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @delightfullykrispypeach @hawkerz12 @dylansbabygirl24 @mineshinamary @popsensationnicole23 @spn-problems @donthateme454 @doyouknowsamw @peridottea91 @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @fictionallemons @natastic @marvelfansworld @half-closeted-bi-girl @je-ai-de-la-amour-pour-dean @kiss-my-peachy-arse @tftumblin @alice101macwil @disneysloot @caitlinvd @crashlyrose @miufel @itsthedoctah10 @leftlokiofpuppy @devilsbbyy @austin-winchester67 @spnobsessed50

#dive bar #dean x sam #wincest #gay panic #spnkinkbingo

64 notes · View notes

strangeradventuresofp · 4 years

Text

emotions (klaus x reader)

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals - 1

warnings : implied sexual assault, swearing

word count : 3984

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

A/N : hey so !!! i’ve wanted to write a canon fic for so long but it took me a while to establish a story line and i haven’t completely finished it yet but i hope you like this!! kinda long and it’s basically just the first episode as in introduction but i rly hope you enjoy it!!<3 xo p

On the 12th hour of the first day of October, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them.

~~~

Your eyes flashed with horror as you looked down at the man in front of you, sprawled out on the path. His limbs were mangled and the pool of blood beneath him rapidly increased as it leaked out of his body. Glancing down, you noticed that upon your shaking hands were red stains, and your mouth turned dry while you walked away, shoving your hands in your pockets. Hopefully no one would find him, and if they did hopefully no one would find your fingerprints on his skin, after all, you didn’t even remember doing it. You felt bad, perhaps he didn’t deserve to die, only be injured. Your mind battled with itself as you remember how he had touched you and cornered you into the alleyway. How his fingers dragged and raked across your flesh and grabbed mercilessly at your clothing. He deserved it.

Murdering people wasn’t new to you. You had been forced to do it when you were a child, in an attempt to create an emotional disconnect from a young age. You didn’t hate doing it. Some people deserved it. You just hated that most times you didn’t know you had killed someone; you had lost control and adrenaline consumed your entire body and mind.

The door to your apartment faced you as you pulled up short, checking every pocket for your keys, trembling still as you managed to push them into the lock after numerous previous tries. You used your elbow to push the handle down, hauling open the door with your body weight, kicking it closed. The bag you carried dropped to the floor at the sound of the door closing, and you made straight for the bathroom, ready to wash away the awful day that you had had.

It wasn’t long before you stepped out of the shower, drying your body off and changing. A towel was still in your hands and you continued to pat down your hair as you trudged into your living room, feet grazing along the wooden floor. The noise of the TV droned in and out of your ears, combing through your dampened hair.

“…Little bit of rain potentially, later in the week…” The refrigerator door opened when you pulled it, your fingers reaching out for a carton of orange juice. The glass filled as you poured in the juice and began drinking from it.

“We’re going now live to a breaking story,” you lowered your glass from your lips before dragging your tongue across them, picking up what was left as you turned towards the TV. “Moments ago, police reported the death of the world’s most eccentric and reclusive billionaire, Sir Reginald Hargreeves.” Your heart startled at the words, and you felt unsure of whether to be relieved or not. Although he was your Father, he was never a Dad to you. He had created a robot, Grace, which you were expected to call Mom, and she looked after you, because Reginald could never be bothered. You often thought of what your ‘biological mother’ would be like and maybe you would have felt more comfortable if you had never been adopted. Obviously, you knew that was untrue. She had given you away for a suitable compensation, although she had never meant to give birth in the first place. But, you really enjoyed the thought of having a completely different life.

You had hardly spoken to any of your siblings for a while. Once in a while you received a call from Diego, just checking to see how you were. Sometimes Vanya phoned but it was very rare. Allison was always too busy with her movie, you wondered if she would even turn up for the funeral. Klaus hadn’t been seen in a long time, and Luther was still on the moon. You had been close with them when you were younger, but now it felt weird to be so intimate with each other’s lives after you had all left the academy; talking felt forced and uncomfortable so you avoided it at all costs. It was going to be different again after the funeral. You would all be expected to keep in touch, something you honestly didn’t care to do. Though it might be nice to see them again, you cringed just imagining it.

Soon, you shuffled off to your bedroom, turning out all of the lights on the way there. As you lay down, pulling the blanket over your body, you sighed, pinching in between your brows before closing your eyes and willing yourself off to sleep.

~~~

The pavement scuffed your shoes as you lazily made your way from your cab to your childhood home, breathing deeply while the cold air hit your face. Just as goose bumps prickled your skin, you found yourself wrapping your fingers around the metal gate, your feet stepping up the concrete stairs, face to face with the door. Suddenly you remembered how small you still felt against the mansion’s profile. Your nose burnt as you took one last deep breath, thrusting open the entrance, stepping inside.

Your eyes immediately scanned every inch of the lobby, and they rolled as you noticed that everything was exactly the same. The chandelier still hung at the same height, gently swinging left to right, right to left. The lights were still very dim and still flickered occasionally. The windows behind the staircase still allowed light to gleam through the ornate balustrade. The pillars holding up the second floor were still separated by wooden archways. The circular table still stood in the centre of the space; its feet lay on the partially patterned floor. The rest of the floor was still filled with the ugly black and white tiles that remain dull even after being polished. Nothing had changed.

Slowly, your feet took you into the living room, your eyes darting around to scan for something different once again. The fire still roared in the fireplace. The fireplace was still surrounded by the mantelpiece, Five’s portrait dangling high above it. The couches were still the same red, the table, the stools, and the bar, even the contents of the bar hadn’t changed a bit.

“Miss Y/N.” Your head whipped around as your eyes met those of who the voice belonged to, and you smiled.

“Hey, Pogo. How are you doing?” Your question brought a smile to the chimpanzee’s face and he moved over towards you, leaning on his walking stick. He hadn’t changed, either, apart from a few tufts of hair beginning to turn grey on his chin. He still possessed a set of glasses, a red overcoat with a purple waistcoat, and a red and blue patterned tie. He owned other ties, but that was always your favourite. You leaned down to hug him, which he returned immediately, pulling away after a few seconds.

“Is anyone else here?”

“I am aware of Master Diego's presence, although the others I haven’t seen, yet.”

“Thanks, Pogo.”

~~~

“What exactly are you looking for?” Luther spun around to see you leant against the door frame of your Dad’s bedroom, with your arms folded, brows knitted together. “They’re all locked. Diego already checked.”

“No forced entry, no sign of struggle. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Diego’s figure moved past you, entering the room that Luther seemed to be inspecting, leaning down slightly to get a better look as he neared him. “Oh, you got big, Luther.”

“Understatement.” You snorted, chipping in.

“What’s the secret, huh? Protein shakes? Low carbs?”

“What do you want?” Luther frowned as his arms were brought up slightly, gesturing his confusion as to why Diego was teasing him. His brows furrowed more as Number 2 stretched for his back pocket, silence filling the room for just a moment. He held a creased, folded piece of paper in his hand, extending his arm out to Number 1.

“The autopsy report. I broke into the coroner’s office.”

“Well, that was stupid.” Your hand found its way to your hip as you stared in disbelief at him, who was now sitting down, way too comfortable. He shrugged at you, before continuing.

“Surprise, surprise, Dad’s death was… normal. Just boring old heart failure.”

“Yeah, so?” The larger boy asked as he scanned over the piece paper after opening it.

“So, stop looking for something to prove that it wasn’t.” Luther’s eyes looked over to you, annoyance clearly present in your voice. “He’s dead. That’s it. No mystery.” You pushed yourself off the door frame before walking down the hall, hearing Luther and Diego mumbling to each other still, not knowing exactly what they’re saying, and not exactly caring. They were annoying to listen to, one always trying to outdo the other. The truth was, Diego didn’t like being Number 2, and Luther liked being Number 1 too much. He always thought that because he was Number 1 it made him the leader, but it didn’t. It was something that irked all of you, but Diego felt it the most. You couldn’t stand their pointless bickering when you were children and you certainly couldn’t stand it now.

It had been a few years short of a decade since you had left the academy, but it honestly felt like you hadn’t been gone at all. You had expected some sort of a change to have been made, but then again, you expect too much. The interior design was outdated and sickening to look at. It reminded you of everything that had happened when you were children.

Stepping along the hallway, numerous paintings, all very similar, caught your eye. The famous family portraits. The first contained all of you, apart from Vanya. She wasn’t ever included in things like that. The way her eyes turned sad whenever your Dad told her there was nothing special about her broke your heart. The second was the same, excluding Number 5; taken after he had jumped through time and not returned. It had been 16 years, more or less, and he still hadn’t returned. You often wondered if he was even alive, wherever he was. It was safe to say you had a fear of losing people after what had happened to Five. The third contained five of the children, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus and you. It had been taken a few weeks after Ben had passed – something you hated to remember; it made your entire body ache.

You peeled your eyes away from the paintings, looking down. Tears glossed over your eyes as your mind flooded with thoughts about what had happened that day. It was horrifying. The way it happened had been completely erased from your memory. It all happened so quickly. All you can remember was seeing his lifeless body spread out on the floor. Your Mom had tried to save him, but in the end, there was nothing she could have done. Pogo had sat you all down in the lounge and broke the news to you. That day was one of the most miserable.

“Y/N? Hey, are you okay?” You hadn’t even realised you had started crying; not expecting to get so emotional, it was never a good thing for you. Looking up through misty eyes, you saw Klaus, frowning instantly, moving away when he stepped towards you. “Still mad at me?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously while you rolled your eyes, angrily swiping at the loose tears that had fallen onto your face.

He hadn’t changed. His hair was the same length and texture. His facial hair looked as if it hadn’t grown the tiniest bit. His eyes were still that gorgeous green colour and were paired with slight bags underneath. He still wore those pants with the gaps in the side that you loved to wear, and the battered sneakers that you would have thought were his only pair of shoes. A bushy coat wrapped itself around his shoulders, hugging around the top of his body and the shirt he wore ended just below his belly button, exposing a thin strip of his flesh.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fi—“

“I said I’m fine!” Klaus winced, nodding slightly before strolling down the stairs, glancing up at you after every couple of steps.

Huffing, you walked into your old bedroom, lying down and closing your eyes, calming down as you focused on your breathing. You hated that it still got you so riled up after so long, groaning in frustration as you tried not to think about it. You clenched and unclenched your fists every few seconds, breathing in sync.

Children behave, that’s what they say when we’re together.

A smile slowly crept onto your face as you heard the familiar words, sitting up. It was something you and your siblings listened to often, when your Dad wasn’t around. Smile turning to a grin, you stood, moving your arms and feet in time with the music. Nothing mattered at that moment. You weren’t thinking about Five, or Ben, or Klaus. You weren’t thinking about anything, just losing yourself in the music.

I think we’re alone now. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.

I think we’re alone now. The beating of our hearts is the only sound.

The music stopped as quickly as it had started as everything suddenly went dark, the sound of thunder clapping so loud, as if it was outside your door. Gasping, you threw your door open, rushing downstairs as fast as you could, opening the door to the courtyard, eyes widening at the sight of blue electricity. Soon enough, your siblings joined you outside, confused looks plastered on all of your faces. Diego stood protectively in front of you, Luther by his side, Allison holding his hand.

“Don’t get too close!” Allison exclaimed, worry coating her voice.

“Yeah, no shit.” Diego replied, brows furrowing at what stood in front of you all.

“Out of the way!” Klaus came running out of the house, pushing past all of you, holding a fire extinguisher in his arms, attempting to spray what looked like a temporal anomaly, or a miniature black hole, one of the two. He rolled his eyes as it did nothing, throwing it instead, watching as it was consumed by the blue.

“What is that gonna do?”

“I don’t know. D’you have a better idea?” You reached out, latching onto Klaus’ sleeve, pulling him back to where you were standing. He looked over his shoulder, flashing you a smile before looking forward once again. Just as you clutched his wrist, a boy hit the floor, wearing a suit that was much too big for him, the electricity fading away quickly afterwards. He groaned, stood, and dusted off his suit, and your jaw dropped, feeling your heart miss a beat.

“Does anybody else see little Number 5 or is that just me?” Klaus questioned as you lunged forward, pulling Five into a tight hug, a couple of tears escaping your eyes as he returned the embrace. He looked exactly the same as he did when he left so, had he not aged? Was he permanently going to stay a 13 year old, now? So many questions raced through your mind at a lightning speed, but you really couldn’t care. Your brother was finally home.

Shortly after, you had all made your way in the kitchen. You perched on the side of the table, beside Klaus and the rest of your siblings, watching Five collect the things to make a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, a cutting board and knife already laid out on the table.

“What’s the date? The exact date.” The boy abruptly asked, and a couple of your siblings turned to look at each other in confusion.

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.” His eyes flickered for a moment, as if in concern, but you shrugged it off after realising nobody else had noticed.

“So… Where did you go?” Your voice came out a lot more nervously than you had meant it to, afraid of what his answer would be, in case he said something bad.

“The future. It’s shit by the way.”

“Called it!” Klaus looked up at you after yelling out and you frowned, almost as if scolding him for speaking when it wasn’t his turn. As the others spoke, you watched Five intensely, with a burning curiosity about what he saw in the future, wondering how bad it could actually have been. After all, Five didn’t look like he had done too bad for himself during whatever it was that he went through. But something about him was off. His eyes looked dull, like he’d been traumatised by one thing or another, like he had seen it all. Your body shivered imagining all the things that he could’ve seen.

~~~

The rain pattered on the concrete whilst you advanced once again into the courtyard. Looking around, you noticed the statue that stood in the centre and looked to the floor, sighing as Klaus gently pulled you along by your sleeve, an awkward but genuine smile passing between the two of you. Being mad at him was the least of your worries right now.

“Did something happen?” Your mother held her umbrella, a smile plastered on her seamless face, the same smile she always wore. Her eyes glanced around at you and your siblings, whose eyes also gazed around to look at each other. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your own umbrella tightly, angry at her for even asking the question. Your jaw clenched and your other hand balled itself into a fist before Klaus nudged you subtly and you relaxed, his eyes searching yours as a look of distress fell over his face, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips.

“Dad died, remember?” Allison tilted her head at your mother, watching her terrifyingly realistically happy face fall into one of sympathy. Diego turned to face her in alarm as her red lips turned downwards.

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

The sound of footsteps allowed you to look away from your Mom, instead watching Pogo as he joined you and your siblings in the courtyard. Luther held your Dad’s urn and looked towards the chimpanzee just as Klaus sparked up another cigarette, this one looking just as miserable as the last.

“Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.” Number 1 took a deep breath at Pogo’s instructions, waiting a few seconds before extending his arm up to grasp the lid of the urn, taking off the lid. The metal scraped against itself as Luther dropped the lid-holding hand to his side, tilting the urn 180 degrees. Klaus cringed and you could barely hold back a giggle when the ashes all fell to the floor at once and Luther awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other as Pogo started to speak, but before he could finish, he was interrupted.

“He was a monster.” Your eyes darted to Diego, knowing he was right, but wanting to hear the rest of what Pogo had to say. Klaus let out a breathy laugh and the chimpanzee looked hurt, to which you frowned in empathy. “He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him.”

“Diego, stop.” Knowing he was right but knowing it wasn’t the time made your voice waver as you spoke.

“My name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mom do it.” Turning your head to look at Klaus, silently begging him to help him shut Diego up. He took a drag of his cigarette before flicking his eyes to you, subtly shaking his head, causing you to look around at your other siblings as your Mom said something, locking eyes with Luther for a brief moment before looking away again. “Look, you wanna pay your respects, go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.”

“You should stop talking now.” Luther warned, allowing you to snap your head up to him, watching the two of them, grasping tightly onto the bottom of Klaus’ coat, sharing a frown with Five before turning to view the scene they had created once again. “Diego, stop talking.”

“He couldn’t even stand the sight of you!” The two began to fight, and your hands tightened around the fabric in anxiety before loosening against your will, earning a look from Klaus after he had decided to egg on the fight happening before you. Trembling, you followed Five inside, whipping your body around when you heard a loud thud of something hitting the concrete, tears welling in your eyes while you watched Ben’s statue fall, hurrying inside before any tears spilt. Your feet reverberated in the empty hall, gasping as Luther came hurrying past you.

“Are you okay?” You hadn’t expected an answer from him, frowning when you saw him seizing his left arm, a cut hiding beneath his hand. Your body rotated, eyebrows puckering when you saw Diego and your mother step through the door. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing bad.”

“You hurt him, Diego.”

“Do you kids want to make cookies?” Storming away at your mother’s request, you fished through your pockets to find your apartment keys, shoving the umbrella on the floor after closing it, leaving as fast as you could, not caring to slam the doors once you had left. Pulling up the hood of your coat, shoving your hands in your pockets, walking away from the house you used to live in. You felt as if your feet were thundering on the pavement, afraid that if you stepped in the wrong place that you could cause the pavement to crack under the pressure.

You only ever saw your siblings at Weddings and Funerals, although you heard that none of you had attended Allison’s wedding. But, then again, what did she expect when she held it in L.A, as if all of you could afford to travel there simply for a wedding and then travel back afterwards. You had no idea why your siblings just couldn’t get on for a few hours at the very least. The tensions irked you like nothing else. You were siblings; you should act like siblings, not enemies.

~~~

Loud, rapid knocking on your apartment door woke you from your sleep and you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose before throwing off the blankets, standing, trudging over to your front door. The knocking stopped and you wrapped your hand around the handle, looking out of the peephole. Opening the door after not seeing anyone, you stepped out to look into the corridor, shrugging when no one seemed to be there.

“You should have locks on your windows.” You let out a squeal as a voice spoke out from behind you, whirling around to see your brother stood in front of you.

“What? How did you—“

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Is that blood?” Glancing down to his red-stained arm, he shrugged off your question before you frowned, standing. “Five.”

Minutes later you joined him back in your lounge, with a first aid kit held in your hands. After pulling his sleeve up, you winced, taking a few minutes to clean his wound before bandaging up his arm, closing the first aid kit as he opened his mouth to speak.

“When I jumped forward and got stuck in the future, do you know what I found? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it.”

my masterlist

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy season 2 #tua s2 #tua season two #the umbrella academy x reader #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #tua s2 spoilers #klaus x reader #tua season 2 #reader insert #x reader

169 notes · View notes

writethehousedown · 4 years

Text

Things Are Really Cool (In Nazareth) (Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: wow hi, welcome to whatever the hell this is? this is a sort of a kind of a n19f verse/masp verse crossover set some years after the originals take place (but you don’t need to have read either to read this), borne out of the semi-autobiographical experience of my last few weeks at work trying to teach five year olds mid-pandemic. basically Nina’s a stressed primary teacher and Monet is her primary teacher girlfriend. this is fulfilling the prompt “Nice” only ten days late and also probably has one million and one typos in my haste to get it out in time for at least Christmas xo regardless, i hope u all enjoy and in the words of boyband JLS, “mewwy cwistmas”.

disclaimer: there are a couple of lines i’ve yoinked out of tv shows here- “lesbian having a panic attack” is adapted from Kimmy Schmidt and the “what are you, forty?” ones are from Always Sunny. leave me alone i’m too tired to be funny at this time of year xo

fic summary: When Nina’s headteacher asks her to pull a Nativity play out of thin air with only a week to organise it, Nina is simply too nice to say no. As a consequence, she is blindly oblivious to what her girlfriend Monet is planning, with useless lesbian results.

Nina knew she was a people pleaser. Always had been, always would be. She was simply too nice to say no to anyone. She had never been one to say no to anything.

She’d never taken the last remaining teabag for herself way back at uni; she’d always elected to leave it for Brooke or Yvie, knowing that Brooke would be grumpy all day if she didn’t have her morning cup of tea and not wanting to deal with the caffeine crash Yvie would experience if she made coffee as a substitute.

It had even started way further back in her life than her twenties. The most rebellious thing she’d ever done in high school was to pull out one of the cables of her German teacher’s computer at the back so she’d spend the whole lesson fixing it instead of teaching their class. In Primary, she was the stereotypical, insufferable goody-two-shoes: didn’t ever lose a minute of Golden Time, finished both her set tasks and the extension work that accompanied them perfectly, and was the worst kind of tell-tale.

(At the time, she thought her teachers loved that- the fact that she acted as their five-year-old corporate spy, ready to report any wrongdoings to headquarters. Contrarily, now that she was a teacher to five year olds, Nina thought that if she heard one more story about who skipped who in the line she would climb very slowly and very carefully into the staffroom microwave and blow herself into fifty million partially-heated bits.)

So when her headteacher ducked her head into her classroom on a cold, wet, rainy Wednesday after all the kids had been dispatched home, Nina panicked. Her eyes darted up to the displays on her walls. Fuck, there were still Halloween pumpkins blu-tacked up there. There was, so far, nothing on her December learning journey wall. And there were still Very Hungry Caterpillars made from bottle tops pushed into dollops of paint stuck to bright green backing paper which had been there since the kids’ first week at school back in August.

Well. Red and green were Christmassy colours. Right?

But Mrs Del Rio didn’t seem all that interested in the state of her wall displays. She’d come to ask Nina if she could film a Nativity play with her class.

“It’s for the parents really,” Bianca had rolled her eyes, folding her arms in her usual no-nonsense way. “Just something they can watch and share with the families since we can’t do a real Nativity. It doesn’t need to be anything big- just a few songs…one, two…say four. And then just have the kids in their costumes with a couple of lines. With a backdrop, y’know, there doesn’t need to be props. Just the baby Jesus…the gifts for the three Kings….maybe a couple of no vacancy signs for the innkeepers…that sort of thing. Just for before we finish up term. Maybe if it could be done by next Friday. That okay?”

And Nina, because she was a people pleaser, had nodded and said yes! and of course! and Bianca had nodded curtly at her in the frostiest thank-you the world had ever seen before leaving.

It had only taken the time in which Bianca’s heels had slowly disappeared from hearing distance for the reality of the situation to sink in for Nina. She’d just agreed to do a whole Nativity play, with songs, and costumes, and props, in the space of eight days.

She was going to be sick like little Jack had done that day he’d come into class and projectile-vomited halfway onto the carpet and halfway into Nina’s outstretched hands.

Nina was so consumed by the all-encompassing panic that she didn’t even flinch when there was a loud, jaunty knock at her classroom door.

“High Court Enforcement,” came a loud, brash voice, Nina finally turning to see who was there with glazed eyes. Willam leant against the doorframe, her messy blonde waves falling over the shoulders of her dark blue jumper like curly vines. She was the only teacher who could match the sass levels of the Year 6s and was a colleague that Nina both loved and feared. Loved because she was straight-talking and blunt and altogether hilarious, but feared because her girlfriend was the deputy head of the school and anything Nina said to her would definitely be reported back as gossip.

Also because she was, for all intents and purposes, a pint-pot riot.

“Nina. Nina. Nina,” Willam said repeatedly, her voice monotone and her persistence irritating. Nina mumbled something out.

“What?”

Nina raked her hands through her shock of frizzy blonde curls and sighed, her stress levels already rising. “I said I’m a lesbian having a panic attack.”

“Oh, that’s a mood. I was sent round to do the collection for the support staff but I’ve already spent forty minutes chatting to Alyssa instead of doing what I was asked. Got a grand total of a fiver so far,” Willam shrugged blithely, coming into Nina’s classroom and perching on one of the tiny munchkin-sized tables. “What’s up?”

The pressure-cooker that her mind was rapidly becoming told Nina to throw caution to the wind and vent, so she told Willam everything in a series of babbles barely comprehensible in the English language.

“So you’ve just agreed to doing a full Nativity video in the space of a week?” Willam cocked her head, pulling a confused face. “Why didn’t you just tell Bianca to fuck off?”

Nina paused, feeling all her panic momentarily leave her body as she fixed Willam with a glare. “Are you expecting me to answer that?”

“No, no. Shit, wouldn’t it have been amazing if you had, though? What d’you think would’ve happened? Maybe she’d’ve shouted so loud at you her lungs would’ve just exploded.”

Nina couldn’t help but blurt out a small laugh. “That’s way too dramatic. She wouldn’t even fire me on the spot because that would mean management having to go in and cover my class tomorrow while they tried to find my replacement.”

Nina regretted the small barb at their management team as soon as it was out, but Willam seemed nonplussed.

“Yeah. Court’s way too impatient to deal with your lil’ rugrats.”

“I’m too impatient to deal with them. I’m too impatient to deal with them on a day to day basis. How I’m going to teach them four Christmas songs in the space of a week, fuck knows.”

Willam cocked her head again, her smile becoming patient. “Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Willam’s words were a small source of comfort to Nina. Suddenly everything seemed doable. She matched her colleague’s smile, glad she’d arrived in that moment. “Thanks, Willam.”

As soon as her words were out, she saw the small, playful twinkle in Willam’s eye. “Because nobody else would’ve been mad enough to agree to the damn thing.”

***

Getting her class sorted and organised for the day couldn’t really be likened to herding cats. No, this process was far more chaotic than that. At half past nine each day what could only be described as a minor tsunami of children hit Nina’s classroom: throwing their jackets into the designated tubs with wild abandon and subsequently knocking anything and everything off her adjacent desk, unloading every possible snack in their lunchboxes into their trays and Nina’s pleas for them to only take one snack out falling on deaf ears, spilling their water bottles and getting the zips on their jackets stuck and wanting to tell Nina a billion and one things that seemed to have happened in the 18 hours they had spent outwith her care.

During the month of December this chaos only intensified. Hats, scarves and gloves littered the classroom floor as they fell off the kids like baubles off a dead Christmas tree, shrieks filled the air as they discovered a new chocolate in the advent calendar, and at least half the class surrounded Nina like festive zombies as they all battled to win the competition of “Who can tell Miss West about what their elf on the shelf had got up to overnight the loudest”.

Nina hammered the little bell she kept on her desk with the palm of her hand, stress levels already rising. “Okay, Reception! Jackets in tubs, snacks in trays and bums on carpet!”

As her class giggled about their teacher’s use of the word “bum”, Nina sat down in her wheely chair and waited for them all to join her on the little strip of carpet in front of her smartboard. It was moments like these where she’d be hit with a sort of out of body experience; she was someone’s teacher, she was this class’ first teacher. She was sitting in front of her class waiting to take the register and start their day. It was slightly overwhelming, even though she’d been doing the job for a number of years now.

Eventually her kids were all organised and she’d taken the register and made sure they all had a lunch to eat that day. Nina made sure to put on her best excited face as she prepared to tell them about the Nativity.

“Right, Reception!” she said, injecting lots of mystery into her voice like a storyteller. “I have got some very exciting news for you all today!”

Their little faces all grew equally excited as they were expectant, and Nina’s heart almost popped. Just then, Harry, a boy with enough gel in his hair to single-handedly keep Brylcreem in business for a year and huge bottle-top glasses’ hand went up.

“Yes, Harry?”

The boy bounced on the carpet, incredibly eager. “Can I tell you what my elf did last night?”

Ten more hands immediately shot up, and Nina’s heart sank. Great.

But she was still teaching four and five year olds and this was truly the most important thing in their little lives, so she fixed a bright smile on her face and tilted her head inquisitively. “What did your elf do?”

Harry was now sitting on his knees, towering over the other children and threatening to knock himself over with every passing second as he swayed in the nonexistent breeze. “He did a poop in my Dad’s shoes!”

The rest of the class shrieked with laughter in response. Internally, Nina was rapidly reaching her wit’s end. Love it. A bit of toilet humour to start off the Nativity rehearsals. Great. Exactly what’s needed. “Oh my goodness! What a cheeky elf!”

“He did three poops! And you know what else? They were cola jellybeans! I ate them!”

Sophie, a girl with long ginger hair in a low ponytail and a gap in her smile where two baby teeth once lived, gasped in horror. “You ate the elf’s poop?!”

The rest of the class fell about laughing. Nina had to get control back of the situation.

“Well thank you very much for sharing, Harry! Okay everyone, let’s pop our hands down.”

There were still ten hands waving proudly in the air like rebellious flags.

“We can do more elf stories at the end of the day if there’s time!” Nina lied. There would not be time. There was never time. But it placated most of her class enough for them to follow the instruction. There was, however, one remaining hand up which belonged to Jason, a boy with hair so platinum blonde it seemed otherworldly.

“It’s not an elf story! I’ve got a question,” he insisted, shouting out despite the fact his hand was already up. Nina relented, just in case he did have something important to ask. Maybe he was about to pee himself. Highly likely with the Reception kids.

Jason, pleased as punch that Nina was allowing him to speak, put his hand down. “Can I tell you a rhyming word I’ve just thought of?”

Nina’s smile grew all the more gritted, and the muscles in her face all the more tense. This was going to be the longest week she had experienced in living memory.

***

Nina would never get tired of living with Monet. The sound of her singing as the shower provided a backing track, the unholy racket she seemed to make when she cooked (a symphony of swearing, the banging of kitchen utensils, and the clattering of saucepans and baking trays). The smell of the Dior Sauvage she used instead of perfume and the Cantu hair custard she combed through her hair after she washed it. The fact that Nina could get a cuddle from her any time she wanted and the soft squash of her arms around her.

But living with Monet was best at Christmastime. The endless arguments they got into about their Christmas decorations and what looked best where, both stemming from a fierce loyalty to their own family traditions. The way they’d write their Christmas cards to their friends with a Christmas film playing in the background, and the way Monet would tease her about having such picture-perfect, font-like, primary-teacher handwriting. The way Monet would get too excited in the supermarket and load party food into Nina’s shopping basket like a child trying to sneak chocolate.

Even though Nina was completely exhausted, she still felt herself smile as she turned her key in the lock and heard her girlfriend loudly singing along with Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, paired with the blast of the extractor fan.

“Hello?” Nina sing-songed as she closed the door shut, shedding her heavy jacket and her scuffed trainers and her backpack full of jotters that had been haphazardly stuffed in as she left work.

“Hello!” Monet chirped back, in what had become their tradition since moving in together all those years ago. “Your timing’s perfect, I just finished dinner.”

“Ooh. What is for dinner?”

Monet gestured to the pile of grated cheese, pan of bubbling baked beans, and loaf of white bread. “Beans on toast.”

Nina snorted and leaned against the counter. “Wow, don’t I have the most perfect domestic housewife! That must’ve taken, what…two hours?”

Monet reached over and squeezed her side, eliciting a yelp that would probably give their downstairs neighbours the wrong idea. “Shady bitch. It’s this or two rice cakes that’ve been in the cupboard for so long I swear they’re turning fossilised.”

“No, I’m kidding. Of course I’m hungry, thanks hun. I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” Nina promised, sliding into one of their second-hand wooden dining chairs as Monet plated up.

“No you won’t,” Monet frowned. “You look dead. What’re your kids doing to you, beating you with their tiny little chairs?”

“The fucking Nativity,” Nina sighed, pausing to thank Monet as she placed two slices of golden toast covered with beans and flakes of grated cheese down in front of her. Admittedly it did look like absolute heaven.

“Have you told Bianca to piss off yet?” Monet scowled, stabbing her toast so hard she threatened to break the plate in two.

“What kind of fantasy-land school do you work at where you can tell your headteacher to piss off and she actually listens?” Nina cocked an eyebrow at her, and Monet shrugged in agreement as she chewed a mouthful. “No, of course not. I’m going to make it happen, though, even if it kills me. We started learning the songs today, which you would think was a simple enough endeavour. Except my class, who usually can’t shut up if their lives depend on it, have all the singing volume and skill of one of Yvie and Scarlet’s cat’s chew toys. They don’t even sound like cats being strangled, that’d probably be louder. It’s like trying to have a sing-song with a room full of laryngitis patients. Except it’s not a room, because apparently we’re not allowed to sing inside because of covid. But I can teach Phonics and the kids can all make the ‘p’ sound at me until their hearts’ content and shower me with their spit like the world’s shittiest production of Singin’ In The Rain? Anyway, we have to rehearse outside. In December. I think my feet actually fell off.”

As Nina finally finished what had unintentionally become a fully-fledged rant, Monet attempted to compose herself as she wiped away a small tear of laughter from her eye and clutched at her belly. Nina watched as her girlfriend took a few deep breaths, then fixed her with a humoured grin. “But apart from all that, how was your day?”

Nina stuck her tongue out at her in response. “Shut up. How was yours?”

Monet rolled her eyes as she speared a bean. “Awful. Tried to assess time with my class today. God I love them, Neens, but they’re so bad, how can they be that bad?”

“If anyone can help them progress, it’s you,” Nina smiled encouragingly, only getting a shaken head in reply.

“No, I can’t. Nobody can. They’re beyond help. Some of the answers I got today wouldn’t even be believable if they were part of some TV comedy show. What month is Christmas in? ‘Santa’. The kid answered Santa. How many months are there in a year? ‘Sixty six’. How many days are there in a week? ‘Two’. TWO!” Monet cried, outraged. Nina couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, and Monet pointed warningly at her in response. “Don’t you dare laugh. This is my reality.”

“Hey, you laughed at my Nativity nightmare!” Nina giggled, to which Monet chuckled guiltily. Nina paused to swipe a bit of toast around the plate with her fork, mopping up any stray tomato sauce. When she looked up from her plate, she saw Monet tapping at her phone. Nina frowned disapprovingly. “Hey. No phones at the table.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Monet apologised quickly, though didn’t put her phone down yet. “Monique’s just sent me a screenshot of her friend that’s getting engaged. Look at the damn size of this ring.”

Monet turned her phone to show Nina. Pictured was a diamond the size of a small Pacific nation and a band encrusted with tiny gems on the finger of somebody she’d never met. Nina couldn’t help the way she screwed her face up, which made Monet blurt a laugh in response. “Not a fan, then?”

Nina pulled a face in thought. She was sure that kind of ring made some girls happy, but to her it just seemed tacky and over-the-top, not to mention heavy. “I’m sure she likes it, but I wouldn’t want something that huge. Imagine working in a Reception class with that?! Play-dough stuck in all the little crevices. And Jesus, what if you lost it? Nah, it would stress me out owning that. I would just want one simple little gold band and one singular tiny diamond. Much less of a burden.”

Monet snorted a laugh as she finished her last mouthful of dinner. “You are the only girl I’ve ever met that would consider an engagement ring a burden. Christ on a crucifix.”

“Well!” Nina protested, before realising she didn’t really have anything else to defend herself with. Then, she narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend playfully, kicking her under the table. “Why’re you so interested in my engagement ring opinions, anyway? You asking?”

Monet chuckled as she put her phone face-down on the table. “Bold of you to assume I can afford council tax, never mind a diamond.”

Nina smiled, shrugging in agreement. “Yeah, fair. What should we do tonight? I have Maths jotters to mark but then that’s me done.”

Monet tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I would say fucking our shit days out but I don’t even have the energy to operate a vibrator.”

Nina almost choked on her food as she laughed. “Christ, that’s a mood. Finish dinner, pyjamas, rewatch The Office for the ninety billionth time then bed at 7pm?”

“Sounds good, babe,” Monet smiled, lifting her glass of water up to cheers with as if it was sparkling wine.

***

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh, HEY! Jingle bells, Jin-”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” Nina cut in, waving her hands frantically and stopping the twenty-three five and four year olds that had previously been singing their little kidney bean-sized lungs out. “What are the words?”

Her class stared back at her as if she’d just asked her what twenty-eight times thirteen was. Although Jeremiah, who was already working at Year 5 level, could probably have worked that out given enough time.

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh,” Nina said, rhythmically and clearly. “You try.”

The children all parroted it back to her in their little voices, word-perfect. Thank God, thought Nina. Jingle Bells seemed to be the only song they recognised, so if they turned out to not know it after all then Nina would very probably need an inhaler despite the fact she wasn’t at all asthmatic.

“Let’s try it with the music!” Nina said cheerfully, making sure the bluetooth speaker she’d brought outside was still on.

“Miss West,” a small voice piped up belonging to Amber, the human embodiment of a whine. “I’m cold!”

“We’ll get inside soon!” Nina replied patiently. “Just let’s practise it one more time!”

“I’m cold too,” piped up Joshua, Amber’s male counterpart.

“I’m freezing,” Amber offered again.

“I know, it’s very cold outside!” Nina smiled sympathetically, even though her teeth were gritted. “But we can’t do our singing inside because of the virus!”

“Why not?” Amber pouted.

Nina didn’t really know. The answer was because of the care inspectorate guidelines, but that was incredibly far beyond the realms of a five-year-old’s comprehension. Just then, an idea struck her.

“Well we need to sing our songs outside so that Santa can hear them when he’s taking his sleigh out for a test drive!” she said animatedly. The wide eyes and ohhhh-s she received in reply made her feel like a genius. Move over, Steven Hawking. “Okay, one more time with Jingle Bells. Nice and loud for Santa!”

“Miss West?”

Nina blinked slowly and heavily, taking a small breath before answering the newest child that demanded her attention. “Yes, Sophie?”

“I’m cold.”

“I’m cold!! We’re all cold!!” Nina replied quickly, just that shade away from snapping so that her class knew she meant business. “We’re doing the song one more time and then we’re going inside! So nice big smiles, nice loud voices, and here…we…go!”

Nina pressed play on the song before any more children could regale her with tales of how their body temperatures had dropped to that of a snowman’s.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!” they all enthusiastically sang. “Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh!”

Nina rubbed so hard at her tired eyes that she thought they might disappear into her skull. She was momentarily glad of the fact that she didn’t have a teaching assistant to help her, as to have any other adult witness this would be embarrassing in the extreme.

Just then she noticed around five parents queued up at the nursery adjacent to the playground, watching with wry smiles on their faces as they waited for their children.

“One more time!” Nina cried, as she stopped the music with freezing cold hands.

***

“So Nina, when you gonna wife your girlfriend?”

Nina very nearly spat out her tea, a horrifying milky brown hurricane only just avoided. She hadn’t been expecting to answer deep, meaningful life questions in the staffroom during a lunch hour, but Willam was the human incarnation of petrol on a campfire and with her around things were always in danger of going from zero to a hundred very quickly. To Nina’s relief Courtney was also in the staffroom, and she whipped around from the countertop and gave her girlfriend daggers.

“Willam!” Courtney chastised her in a hiss that Nina wasn’t quite sure was meant to be audible. Willam only gave her an incredulous glare, affronted that she seemed to be the voice of reason in the conversational chaos.

“What?! Just askin’. I mean you’re what…twenty-nine? Twenty eight?”

“Twenty-six,” Nina replied. She was now at the age where being assumed she was older than she was was a curse, not a blessing. (If she’d told seventeen-year-old Nina that one day she would be disappointed at no longer being ID’d for wine at Sainsburys she’d have laughed in her face.)

“Exactly. That’s wifeing age. Mid to late twenties.”

“Hey, I passed that stage long ago, where the hell’s my ring?“ Courtney asked Willam, stirring the coffee she’d poured into one of the many, many “World’s Best Teacher!” mugs that littered the staffroom cupboards. Willam responded by turning around in her chair and positioning her pencil skirt-clad ass in the air.

“Right here, bitch!”

“Christ Almighty,” Courtney turned away from her, rolling her eyes so hard they looked like little spheric dice. As Willam gave her best impression of a seal on laughing gas, Nina cast her eyes over to Sasha who was sitting at the other end of the staffroom. As they caught each others’ eyes they shared a long-suffering smile that mourned the death of peace and quiet.

Nina was glad the conversation had been diverted from the subject of her perceived lack of marriage plans. Until Sasha opened her mouth, that is.

“I wouldn’t worry, Nina. Me and Shea haven’t had that conversation either. I mean we’d both love to, but there’s more important stuff for us right now, you know? We’re saving for a house and I think we’d rather live in a place we’ve chosen for the foreseeable future than just having one singular big lavish day.”

“It’s all about what you want to do with the person you love the most, isn’t it? Not just doing what society wants you to do,” Courtney chipped in, her voice warm and kind. “Like me and Willam used to be total party girls before we got our shit together. And now, like…there’s nothing I’d rather do of a weekend than curl up with her on the sofa and get all cosy with a film and a blanket and a cup of tea.”

Willam scoffed affectionately. “That’s your ideal weekend plan? What are you, forty?”

“Yes? As are you?” Courtney replied incredulously. Nina heard Sasha snort in her chair. As she turned her gaze back to the other two girls she realised that Willam was still looking at her expectantly. Nina sank back into her seat, a little reserved.

“It’s not really something we’ve spoken about? Well…no, we have spoken about it, obviously,” she babbled, watching as Willam took on the look of someone witnessing a victim of cardiac arrest. “Like we both want to get married. To each other, of course. But teaching is just such a busy job all the time and…you know, we only bought our flat last Summer and…I don’t know, it’s nice not to have everything happen all at once, right?”

Courtney nodded emphatically in agreement. “Of course! And I mean, if she asked, you’d say yes, right?”

Nina had to stop herself from pulling a face. How am I having this conversation with my boss? “Well, yeah. God, I couldn’t imagine life without her at all.”

Willam pretended to gag, which Nina thought was pretty rich from the woman who had begun the entire conversation. Courtney seemed to pick up on her girlfriend’s distaste.

“I don’t think Willam has ever said anything that cute about me!”

Willam turned around to look at her girlfriend, disbelief on her face. “Yeah, I only left my damn husband for you. Fuck me, right?”

Nina’s eyes widened as Sasha gave a yelp from across the staffroom. That was a small piece of workplace gossip she hadn’t expected to learn today. As Courtney’s face turned red and she shot Willam a warning glare, she turned to Nina once more.

“Nina, how’s the Nativity going?” Courtney beamed artificially at her, moving the conversation along with all the grace and decorum of a one-wheeled snow plow.

Considering the question, Nina thought that she’d rather be discussing marriage plans with her boss and colleagues again. “It’s going.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement. I’m sure that was on the poster of Titanic too,” Willam chipped in.

“It wouldn’t be any less disastrous than the actual fate of the Titanic, at least the passengers could’ve probably remembered the words to fucking Jingle Bells,” Nina deadpanned, causing Willam to break into fits of clubbed seal laughter.

Sasha pouted sympathetically from the other side of the room. “It’s those cute bits that the parents love, though, isn’t it? They won’t mind if they get the words wrong.”

“I’m sure there needs to be a foundation of at least an audible tune though, Sash,” Nina smiled resignedly back at her.

“If Bianca wants a Nativity so bad, just tell her to come teach your class,” Willam half-suggested, half-yelled. “Or get Court to teach them! They prolly don’t need to be in tune anyway!”

Courtney’s expression appeared to be the same as Nina’s after her morning’s rehearsal. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”

“You think I’m bad? That bell is going to go for the Comp’s lunch break in five minutes, Bob is gonna arrive, an’ then it’s RIP our eardrums,” Willam said, pointing to the staffroom door for dramatic effect.

“At least Bob has never presented his clothed arsehole to his partner in front of his colleagues,” Courtney cut in at once, her tone deadpan and making Nina splutter a laugh.

“Aw, c’mon Court! That’s just banter. These girls don’t mind.”

“It’s unprofessional!” Courtney clutched her chest. Willam only snorted in response.

“Unprofessional? What are you, forty?”

“We’re the same age!!” Courtney cried in response, her incredulous tone only setting Nina off in a further fit of laughter.

It was only later on that night once she had driven back home, parked, and approached her and Monet’s flat that Nina remembered the staffroom conversation. She cast her gaze up to their first-floor window in their red brick building, almost being able to feel the way her heart gave a swell at the sight of their Christmas tree framed proudly within the glass. And as she got in through the front door, Monet greeted her with a hug and a takeaway leaflet.

“We’ve got nothing in the fridge, so I thought we could get noodles? This came through the door today and I think-” Monet raises her eyebrows, slapped the leaflet into the palm of her hand decisively. “- it’s a sign from God.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Nina laughed, shrugging off her coat and feeling grateful for not having to cook.

It was only when they were both curled up on the couch, empty pad thai containers in front of them, that Nina turned to Monet and saw the lights on the tree reflected in her eyes. She turned to her girlfriend, threw an arm round her and snuggled in to her side.

“What’s up?” Monet asked, her voice soft and sleepy and a little concerned.

“Nothing,” Nina sighed. It was true. There wasn’t really anything up, and she was the happiest she’d ever been. But she still turned to Monet, tilting her head up inquisitively. “You don’t feel under any pressure at all, do you?”

Monet snorted. “I feel under pressure to get fifteen children who can’t write the word cat on their own to magically be able to write a sentence by the end of the year, yeah.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “No! I mean, like…in life. You didn’t just…buy this flat with me because you felt you had to, right? You wouldn’t do anything because you felt obliged to?”

Monet raised a single eyebrow back at her. “Yeah, I decided to piss my life savings away on a deposit for a flat because I felt I had to. Jesus Christ, Neens.”

“No, no, I know,” Nina chuckled, realising how silly the whole thing now sounded. “But I just mean…in life, like milestones and stuff. You’d never do stuff because you felt you had to keep up, in some way? Reach some goal by a certain age?”

Monet brought an arm around Nina and cuddled her closer, kissing her hair and resting her chin on top of her head. “Everything I do in life, I do because I want to. Especially when it comes to you. Promise.”

Nina gave her girlfriend a squeeze, happy. She took a deep breath, smelt the fabric softener on Monet’s jumper that they both used but just seemed to smell better and feel softer on everything Monet wore.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Nina sat in a child-sized chair with her knees practically up to her chest, a crumpled, printed-out script on her lap that she’d hastily typed up on her work iPad’s notes app the following evening. Her class sat behind her in costumes pulled on over their school uniforms, with books and pens and pieces of paper with botched photocopying on the back under strict instructions not to talk until the whole thing was filmed.

“Okay, Amber!” she smiled breezily at the small girl whose school blouse was sticking out under her angel costume. “You’re kicking off the video. So your line is two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Practise it for me?”

Amber gripped the hem of her taffeta skirt in two tiny white-knucked fists. “I don’t want to.”

Nina bit her lip. Great start. Fantastic. “We can give it a try together?”

Reluctantly, Amber parroted the words in tandem with her. So far so good.

“Okay. Now do you want to go up against the backdrop and I can film you doing it?”

Amber’s ponytail full of flyaways swung wildly as she shook her head. Nina thought for a moment. Then her eyes came to rest on Hazel- the class’ Mary and, coincidentally, Amber’s best friend.

“What about if Hazel stands with you?”

That seemed to change things and, only slightly hesitantly, both girls got up in front of the hastily staple-gunned silver tinsel.

“Okay Amber. Two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Ready?”

A nod in reply.

“Go!”

Amber took a deep, shaky breath in. “Two thousand years ago….a woman called Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed the girl with a kind smile. “An angel came to a woman called Mary. Try again?”

The iPad was back in filming mode, and Amber went again. “Two thousand years ago, a…a…a little cute angel came to Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed Amber with two thumbs up. That’ll do.

Things seemed to be going well as Hazel and Oliver (or, Mary and Angel Gabriel) got through their lines without too many bumps in the road. Then, it was time for Amber to take to the stage (or blue curtain with a tinsel border) once more.

“Okay Amber, so your line this time is…Mary told her husband Joseph. Want to practise?”

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Amber repeated, with all the enthusiasm of a patient about to undergo a colonoscopy. With two days til the deadline, this would have to suffice.

“Perfect! Ready? Three…two…one…go!” Nina smiled encouragingly, as she hit record.

Amber stood beside Mary and Joseph, a little grin on her own face. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

“…Joseph,” Nina reminded her. Where the fuck had Joyce come from? She hit record again.

“Three…two…one…go!”

“Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Nina couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing. “Joseph, Amber!”

The little girl nodded earnestly. “Joseph Amber.”

Nina spluttered. “No…Amber is your name. Joseph is Mary’s husband.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

Nina shook her head, amused. This was what she loved about teaching. None of the other girls working from home could say that they got to spend their day feeling like they were stuck in an episode of You’ve Been Framed.

“Go again. Mary told her husband Joseph. Three…two…one…”

“Mary told…em…um…I can’t remember,” Amber giggled. Nina could feel her own giggles bubbling up inside herself, but she had to stop otherwise it would set her whole class off.

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Nina repeated, both Amber and Hazel now giggling to each other. “Shh shh! Okay…three…two…one…”

Amber composed herself, took a deep breath. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Christ Alive. Nina gasped incredulously, unable to help herself from laughing now. The whole class, Amber herself, and Nina was pretty sure God, were all doing the same. She put her head in her hands, her whole body now shaking with laughter. “Joseph!!”

She already couldn’t wait to tell everybody she knew this story. Not least so she could cement in her mind that it was something that actually happened to her, and not just simply the script of a comedy show she’d dreamed up. Miraculously, mercifully, she managed to get the rest of her class settled down and for Amber to say the correct line on film, even if Nina could be faintly heard frantically mouthing “Joseph!” in the background.

Eventually they reached the innkeepers. Easy enough, in theory.

“Okay, Carter,” Nina smiled encouragingly at the first innkeeper. “When Mary and Joseph ask for a room, you say ‘no, sorry!’. Okay?”

Carter nodded, half a finger stuck up his nose. Nina gestured to him to put his hands down, then began filming. As directed, Mary and Joseph asked if there was any room at the inn.

“YES,” the little boy shouted. The whole class burst out laughing. Nina did not.

Just then, Willam walked past the open door with her class. She gave her a look of inquisition, shooting her a tentative, questioning thumbs up.

Nina put her head in her hands in reply.

***

By some miracle of nature (although it could also have been Nina giving up on work that afternoon) Nina had made it back to the flat before five o’clock. This never happened- five pm was usually the time she left work, but a day full of recording Nativity clips and then putting them together on iMovie while her class played (read; caused havoc) had been tiring and she needed Monet, chocolate, and Merlot.

Only the first thing she heard when she opened the door to her flat wasn’t Monet singing, or the hum of the extractor fan. It was the grainy crackle of a Zoom call and an incredibly distinctive voice.

“So when you doin’ it? Do it tonight. Do it when she gets home from work.”

Monet’s voice- humoured, long-suffering. “I’m not doing it then, Vanj, she’ll be exhausted.”

“That was honestly your best suggestion? When she gets home from work?” Brooke’s voice. “Aren’t you the pinnacle of romance!”

Nina had realised that Monet was on a Zoom call with all the girls, from the way Vanessa had obviously kissed Brooke on camera was being met with half a dozen cries in protest from the others. She excitedly shrugged off her coat and unwrapped herself from her scarf, eager to see her friends again. Part of her was intrigued, though. Why were they all calling each other without her?

“My question is how you’re going to do it,” Akeria’s voice came, as questioning as always. “It needs to be good but it better not be too damn cheesy.”

“An’ you better make sure she got her nails done, she might say no if she ain’t got her nails done!” Silky came shouting through Monet’s Macbook speakers.

“Yeah, you better make it as romantic as you can, Mo,” Scarlet added, making Nina wonder what the hell it was they were all talking about. Before she could wonder any further, she heard Yvie’s distinctive snort of a laugh.

“You are in no position to speak about romance, I mean, need I remind you how you asked me?”

“Shut up,” Scarlet replied, her tone a little bashful as the other girls laughed.

“Monet I could hire you a plane if you really wanted,” Plastique offered, making Nina snort despite the fact she had no idea what the conversation was about.

“Shut up, bitch,” Nina could practically hear the roll of Akeria’s eyes.

Nina toed her shoes off and finally padded through to the kitchen, where Monet’s eyes grew wide when she saw her, her body visibly flinching.

“Hey, babe!” she smiled, looking a little startled. “You’re home earlier than usual!”

“Oh sorry, am I interrupting your Zoom call with all your side chicks?” Nina deadpanned, forcing her way onto Monet’s lap to see her friends on the screen.

“Ninaaa!!!” Vanessa’s face popped up first, her friend waving excitedly as she sat on her sofa in Brooke’s arms. “How are you, girl?”

“Shattered,” Nina sighed, rubbing her eyes harshly. “Just filmed the whole Nativity with the rugrats today. Think it took ten years off my lifespan. How’re you?”

“Good,” Brooke smiled back through the screen. “We ordered our Christmas food today. Trying to convince this one that we don’t need twelve pigs in blankets between two people.”

Vanessa scowled back at her from their position on the sofa. “Uh, yes the hell we do!”

“Twelve pigs in blankets as well as the turkey, stuffing, and all the veg? Y’all are gonna explode,” Akeria said disapprovingly.

“Kiki! How are you?” Nina cried with delight, seeing her friend’s tired but smiling face appear on screen.

“Good. Don’t stop work for a while yet, but it’s fine. Still flat hunting.”

“How’s Pri?” Nina asked, heartened by the way Akeria looked down, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, she’s good. Still batshit crazy. Horny all the time.”

“The ideal girlfriend, really,” Yvie said, a wry smile on her face.

“Nina!” Silky suddenly cut in, yelling. “Did you hear any of what we were talkin’ about before?”

Nina frowned, shook her head. “Something about planes and nails. And cheese. I’m too exhausted to have paid enough attention. Why, were you having a mad bitchfest about me?”

“Trying to ask the girls how best to dump you,” Monet deadpanned. Nina shot Monet a look and squeezed her leg, resulting in her girlfriend yelping and cracking her knee off the table.

Whatever the previous conversation was was soon forgotten about as excited catchups took over. Silky was excited as she was interviewing some singer that Nina had never heard of and wanted the girls to help her work out what questions she was going to ask her. Yvie and Scarlet were lamenting the fact they had to host both of their families for Christmas and had bought a turkey so big Scarlet wasn’t sure it would fit in their oven, and Plastique was telling them the weirdest things she’d been gifted by companies desperate for her to endorse them on Instagram.

“I got a box of sex toys from LoveHoney. That was probably the most random. Me and Naomi had a wild fucking night that night.”

“STOP BEIN’ GROSS,” Silky had yelled down the line, causing Nina to hammer Monet’s volume down button.

Eventually the call came to an end, but not before lots of promises to catch up soon once the situation across the world was better than the shitshow it was currently. As Monet closed her laptop, Nina threw her arms around her neck and nuzzled into her side.

“I miss them,” she sighed, and Monet patter her back comfortingly.

“I know, babe. I miss them too.”

There was a moment of pensive silence, and then Nina spoke again, the Nativity never too far away from her mind.

“I can’t export this video.”

“What?”

“The Nativity video. I can’t export it,” Nina muttered pitifully against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Monet kissed her hair, making to stand up. “You get a cup of tea. I’ll fix your video.”

“You’re the best,” Nina sighed gratefully, walking over to the kettle.

It was only after she’d sat down with a cup of tea and Monet had promised she’d sorted her video that Nina thought about the conversation she’d walked in on earlier.

She had a strange feeling that it had something to do with her.

***

When Nina arrived at work that morning, she could tell something was…a little different. She couldn’t really tell what it was. It started with the slightly knowing smile Tatianna shot her from across the corridor.

“Congrats, Nina!” she shouted down to her before she ducked into her own classroom.

“Uh…thanks,” she replied a little too late. Okay, the Nativity process had been stressful, but did she really need congratulated?

She supposed she appreciated it. It had been a whirlwind of a process, after all.

Only the odd thing was, it continued. The congratulations came pouring in; Alaska, Ivy from the Nursery school, Alyssa had cooed and gushed for ages about how exciting it was and how happy she was for her.

Nina had only blinked in reply, a little bewildered. “Thanks, Alyssa. It was a stress, but they managed to pull it off in the end.”

Alyssa gave her a funny look, then realisation seemed to dawn on her. “Oh…they’re non-binary! You know I never knew that, sorry sugar. Well congratulations to you both.”

With that, Alyssa hurried away only leaving Nina more confused than ever.

What in the fuck?

When the bell rang and Nina went to collect her class from the line, things only got weirder. Before she could hurry her class inside, Harry’s Mum waved at her from behind the school gate, beckoning her over. Nina’s heart began to sink- she was going to ask her why Harry was only a shepherd, wasn’t she, or why he didn’t get a solo during Little Donkey, or some-other-bullshit-like-that.

To Nina’s surprise, she held up a sparkly gift bag.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you!” she beamed at her. This was already unheard of- a parent apologising for taking up her time? Nina was beginning to question if she had slipped through a crack in the fabric of reality while she’d been sleeping when Harry’s Mum spoke again. “Me and the other parents had a quick whipround and got you a couple of things and a little card to say congratulations! We thought it was the least we could do given your lovely news.”

It was only after Nina had thanked her profusely, taken the bag and led her children into class that her words sank in. What lovely news was she on about?

Nina taught that morning in a daze. Well, ‘taught’ was pushing it; the last few days of term were always movie days or games days, and today was the former. Nina had decided to inject a bit of an educational element to it by showing her class Nativity and then asking them if they thought the film’s play was better than the one they’d put on. Despite it being one of her favourite Christmas films, though, she still wondered why everyone had been congratulating her today. Maybe her Nativity video had really been so amazingly good that people just had to comment on it. Nina decided that this was the only plausible explanation, and so was feeling particularly spirited as it reached breaktime and she sent the kids out to play.

She was sitting in her classroom reading all the messages she’d missed on her group chat when Willam practically crashed through her door.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. “Congratulations, you lucky fucker! That’s gotta be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I mean Bianca probably wants your head on a plate for keeping it in, but still! How’re you celebrating? Should we go to the shop at lunchtime and get prosecco? I mean it’s the last few days of term, I’m sure drinking on the job’s allowed. Court wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Willam was talking with such speed that it took a few seconds for Nina to register everything she’d said. “Why…would Bianca want my head on a plate?”

Willam snorted. “I mean it’s kinda obvious. You don’t think she’s gonna be pissed about it? Then again, maybe she won’t. I don’t know, I can’t get inside her head. I’m not on that Honey I Shrunk The Kids kinda bullshit.”

Nina felt her head was so clouded that even if she possessed the brightest fog lights in the world she still couldn’t see what Willam was trying to say.

“Willam,” she asked, slowly and carefully as she rested her head in her hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

There was a pause as Willam froze, then as her eyes became huge and wide as she slowly raised a finger to point at Nina. “Jesus Harvey Christ. You…you don’t know, do you?”

Nina frowned, bewildered. “Know what?”

“Oh my God. You don’t know. This is the best thing ever. You don’t even know!” Willam howled with laughter, then, before Nina could ask what she was meant to not know, Willam had dashed out of her classroom and had begun yelling into the hall. “Courtney! Court! She doesn’t know!”

Nina began to feel her heart beat in heavy thuds as the bell went to signal the end of playtime. What didn’t she know?

Eventually Nina managed to reach the end of the day. How, she didn’t know. She was so confused by all the different odd events of the day that she felt she didn’t properly make sense at any point to her class, but that probably didn’t matter as they were all so wrapped up in Christmas nonsense that Nina could’ve left the classroom and they wouldn’t have given a shit.

She was just getting ready to leave work for the weekend when Bianca stuck her head into her classroom and made her almost jump fifty feet in the air.

“Nina,” she began, in her own blunt, abrasive way. She didn’t wait for Nina to greet her as she continued. “I know you must be wandering around with your head in the clouds at the moment, but next time do you think you could maybe just run the video by me first? I mean you’re very lucky that the parents took that well. I mean it’s really about the kids, y’know?”

Nina could only blink at her wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, getting into trouble but not entirely sure what for. Loath to say anything in response, she simply nodded.

“I mean you should’ve really kept it out,” Bianca frowned. She let the awkward, tense silence hang in the air for a few moments before a humoured smile appeared on her face. “But congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”

Without stopping for Nina to reply, Bianca had turned on her heel and left her classroom. Nina could only look at the space she’d previously been standing in. Maybe all of this was a dream. A fever dream. She’d probably contracted some sort of illness and was experiencing some hallucinogenic vision.

She didn’t know how she made it home without causing a crash, but she managed, and as soon as she was through the door she began to vent to the person she loved most.

“Monet!” she called through to the kitchen, hanging her belongings up. “I’ve had the weirdest fucking day in living memory. So first all the teachers were congratulating me…then I got a present from the parents…then Willam was screaming about me not knowing something…and then Bianca gave me a row at the end of the day…but I still don’t know exactly why…but then she said congratulations to me too?”

It was only when Nina stopped and walked through to the kitchen that she saw the kitchen table all done up with candles and laid beautifully, Nina’s favourite meal (slow cooker beef and buttery mash) on two plates, and Monet sitting at the table with her makeup done, dressed in a backless blue bodycon that Nina had once very nearly broke the zip of trying to rip it off her one weekend away.

“Uh…” Nina frowned, more confused than ever. Slowly, as a smile spread across Monet’s face, she began to connect all the dots of weird and the picture it presented illustrated that somehow her girlfriend had to be behind it all. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Monet got up and leant against the kitchen counter. She very gently took both of Nina’s hands in hers. “You didn’t watch the whole video once I exported it, did you?”

Something like dread crossed with excitement began to pool in Nina’s gut. She narrowed her eyes. “Monet…what did you do?”

Wordlessly, Monet reached back across to the table where she picked up her phone and loaded up the Nativity video. Skipping to the end, she got past the end of Jingle Bells and showed the video to Nina. The screen faded to black, and then, Nina watched as another little title card faded into view.

To the teacher that always gives so much of herself to others, I now want to give all of myself to you.

Miss West, will you marry me?

Love, Monet x

And suddenly everything in Nina felt as if it was made of fire, adrenaline and jet fuel. Her eyes flew open, her hand smacked against her shocked, gaping mouth. Her pulse raced and her heart hammered and all of her limbs turned to jelly to the extent she wasn’t sure she was able to stand any more. When she took her eyes off her phone screen and looked at Monet, her girlfriend was down on their kitchen floor, down on one knee like in every princess movie Nina had ever seen, her hair soft and curled and loose on her shoulders and a bright smile on her painted taupe lips. Gemstone tears brimmed in her dark eyes and hung from her lashes like icicles, and there, in her outstretched hands, was an open navy box.

Inside was a ring - gold band, one small diamond - and it was when Nina saw it that she gave a sob, her own tears springing from her eyes like a broken fountain, uncontrollable and erratic.

“Oh, baby, c’mere,” Monet gave a small laugh, shaking her head and immediately rising from the floor to wrap her arms around her in a hug. Nina took a few shaky, shallow breaths, pawing at Monet’s chest to release herself from her grip and look her in the eyes.

“You! You knew…all this time, and you…you put it in the video, oh my GOD, Monet, I could’ve got in so much trouble…I did get in so much trouble, oh my God…and you didn’t even tell me-”

“I thought you’d at least watch the damn thing through before you uploaded it!” Monet burst out laughing through her tears, and Nina joined in in a lightheaded, giddy way.

“I can’t believe this is real. Fuck. My whole body feels like that time we did poppers in Crete. Oh my God. Is this happening? You want to marry me?”

“Well, I would love to marry you, but I’m waiting on an answer,” Monet smiled bashfully, bringing her arm out from around Nina’s waist and holding the ring up so Nina could see it.

The diamond only seemed to glisten more when she saw it through the tears in her own eyes, and the gold shone warm like the brightest star. It was an engagement ring- her engagement ring- and it was real, and it was surreal, but Monet was in front of her waiting for an answer with tears in her eyes and hope in her heart that matched her own.

And Nina had never been one to say no to anything.

#rpdr fanfiction #ninex #background witney #monet x change #nina west #willam belli #courtney act #things are really cool in nazareth #ortega #fluff #kidfic #proposal fic #ficmas 2020 #day 14: nice #tw: coronavirus reference #submission

15 notes · View notes

elysianrey · 5 years

Text

it’s a slow cinnamon summer

(a/n: the graduating class of Avonlea decides to celebrate with a secret party. Of course feelings begin to surface and competitions are had.

or basically my excuse to write a fic with a shirtless gilbert and some late night shirbert swimming. Enjoy xo)

It started as one of the many dreadful ideas of Josie Pye that the graduating class of Avonlea’s schoolhouse seemed intent of latching onto in the weeks leading up to the Queen’s exams. It would be a secret celebration that took place deep in the woods near the schoolhouse at the lake where the boys played hockey and the girls ice-skated on in the winter. A handful of students would bring gas-burning lanterns to help illuminate the evening, while the other half of the class would bring food and blankets. They all worked to devise believable excuses to gain permission to leave their houses for part of the night, and finally, the day of the celebration arrived. The early June weather could not have provided a more perfect night for their secret party. Anne walked begrudgingly next to her bosom friend, who appeared as if she might explode from excitement at any given second, with the prospect of a few more hours left of freedom lying ahead of her.

It was only because of Diana that Anne agreed to this absolutely preposterous plan in the first place.

These past few weeks had left Anne focusing solely on studying for her entrance exams--and also aiding in Diana’s quest for experiencing as much freedom as possible before leaving for finishing school. Tonight happened to be her second to last evening until she was on a boat headed toward the French coast, which made Anne obligated to support any rational wishes of her dear kindred spirit, Diana.

“Oh Anne,” Diana whispered, leaning into their interlocked arms as they continued their journey onward, the low brush catching hold their skirts. “Isn’t this simply thrilling? Sneaking out to a late night swim with girls and boys,” she remarked as if she could not quite believe the words she was saying. “I don’t think I can ever properly thank you for coming with me.”

“What are bosom friends for, Diana? I desire to spend every last minute I can with you before you depart from me,” Anne replied, casting her friend a longing glance, which caused Diana’s happy smile to falter slightly at the reminder.

“How will I live without you?” she questioned mournfully..

The girls walk persisted in the forest until they saw the dim light of lanterns along the edge of the trees where the woods met a grassy expanse before dipping into the small lake. Anne noticed Tilly and Jane sitting together on a blanket, eating delicate baked goods that she assumed only Ruby herself could have made, for she was one of the most talented bakers of their class.

What led her eyes widen in surprise, however, was not the amount of pastries that lay amongst them, but the articles of clothing. For her friends were dressed in nothing besides their undergarments. Both of the Paul’s waived in their direction upon noticing the most recent arrivals, and Anne knew for certain right then and there, that if Marilla found out about their little celebration, or anyone in Avonlea for that matter, she would most definitely never be allowed to leave her room until the day she died. The boys only wore their trousers, while their shirts and undershirts had likely been discarded in the clothing heap around her. Their exposed chests quickly made Anne look away in shame.

This was scandalous. Anne feared the minister would undoubtedly damn them all to hell if she had not already upset God enough to damn herself to hell due to one of her numerous past follies.

To her left, Diana was wasting no time in stripping off the many layers she wore, tossing them aside hurriedly. She ran directly toward the water and leapt in next to Ruby and Moody with a great laugh. Anne could only stand and stare at her friends, trying to come to a decent conclusion of what to do in her mind.

She had never been exactly sentimental in regards to her figure, despite the way some of her leaner parts had filled in thanks to Marilla’s cooking and a growth spurt. It was dark enough outside that hardly anyone would be able to see her properly. There would be no one to stare at her pasty, pale skin or the dusting of freckles down her arms and chest. Feeling more emboldened than before, Anne closed her eyes and unbuttoned the back of her dress and brought it down around her ankles. She bunched the fabric against her chest and ventured toward the lake in hopes of feeling the water before getting in with the others.

She recognized the figures wading at the water’s edge too late.

“Well if it isn’t Anne,” Billy commented, drawing nearer to her feet, wearing a provoking expression.

“Aren’t you going to get in, Anne?” Josie added, looking at her skeptically. “Or you afraid? Do you even know how to swim?”

“You never know what kinds of creatures are in the mood to sneak up from behind and attack,” jeered the annoying blonde, splashing a wave of water in Anne’s direction, which mostly ended up in Josie’s hair. Anne jumped back with a gasp.

“Billy!” Josie exclaimed angrily, her mouth agape in surprise as she reeled around to face him. She returned the action with an enormous splash of her own, and the two seemed to forget about continuing their stream of ignorant comments as they became too engrossed in their game.

Turning on her heel, Anne promptly started in the opposite direction of the lake, her heartbeat loud enough to hear reverberating in her ears. Flashes from her childhood were looming in the forefront of her mind. The older girls at the orphanage pushing her into a body water on a rare outing, mocking her as she screamed for help and desperately tried to stay afloat by using her flailing arms. One of the Hammond boys pouring an ice cold bucket of water on her as she scrubbed the kitchen floors. She didn’t want to do this. Not on her lasting evening with Diana. Working to gain control of her breathing, she closed her eyes and attempted to do what Miss Stacey recommended. Think of the positives. Instruct your mind to recall joyful memories. Her heartbeat began to slow.

Suddenly, Anne felt the soft fingertips of someone graze her bare shoulder and she spun around in a flurry of anger, only for her poor face to almost meet a noticeably broad, quite exposed, dripping wet chest. She let out a small yelp and nearly jumped out of her skin as she stumbled backward, her foot catching on a tree limb as she flailed helplessly, trying to find anything other than the person in front of her to grab onto to keep her from toppling to the forest floor in a graceless heap.

The shadowy someone reacted instinctively by grabbing ahold of her waist to steady her, making sure she had regained her balance fully before slowly releasing his grip. For she most certainly would not have appreciated if he held on for a moment longer after the fright he had caused her.

“Anne, I’m so sorry,” Gilbert whispered into the night air, his hand coming up to meet the back of his head while doing his best to find the right words in continuing forward from the awkward moment. “I came to see if you were okay. We all know how Josie and Billy can be, and Anne, you are at no obligation to get in that water. The choice ultimately yours, not theirs.”

Squaring her shoulders in a posture of confidence that she truly wish she could find in this mortifying moment, Anne looked anywhere and everywhere other than at the dark haired boy in front of her. For she feared if she looked at him a second longer, she may spit out words she would undoubtedly regret, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach threatening to make their way upward and erupt from her mouth if she opened it.

She needed to get away from him. Far, far away. The effect he was having on her in this moment was beginning to ruin all of the things she believed to be true about their friendship. And that was what they were. Friends. Only friends. He was a healthy rival, someone she confided in and trusted with thoughts and dreams others would surely find an opportunity to ridicule. Not a romantic ideal, yet that was what the twinge in her chest was threatening to reveal, and she was in no mood to try to sort through that feeling right now.

Gilbert continued to stare at her, waiting expectedly for some kind of, any sort of reply. However, Anne only gave him a slight nod in acknowledgment at his gracious reminder and kind words, then pulled her crumpled dress tighter to her chest, and walked past him in determination. She marched straight to the edge of the water again, tentatively testing the temperature with the tips of her toes.

“That’s it Anne!” came Moody’s call from nearby. He waded only meters away from where she stood, Charlie, Diana, and Ruby at his side, laughing and splashing each other. Ruby screamed in protest as Diana splashed at significant amount of water into her face. This is where she needed to be. With the people that she unequivocally loved.

Anne inhaled deeply, pushing aside the demons of her past that had been threatening to consume her, and gently placed her dress in a neat pile next to the other girls’ dresses. Turning around with a resounding breath, she walked back to her gaggle of friends and dived before she could change her mind.

The initial shock of the icy feeling in the dark water overtook her, but recalling all of the lessons Matthew, Marilla, Diana and the rest of her friends had given her, Anne moved her legs and arms, pushing her body to the surface. When she emerged with a breathless gasp, Diana and Ruby were right by her side, their faces revealing joyous smiles.

“We knew you could do it, Anne,” Ruby praised in her tiny, mouse-like voice that Anne adored so fondly.

Directly behind her came another large splash, rocking the water hard enough to form small ripples. Anne had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and her hesitations were confirmed when she saw Ruby’s face light up in the moonlight.

“Gilbert!” The boys broke off in a fast swim toward the newest member who had joined them in the lake. Both dipped under the water, clearly catching him off guard, and lifted him up on their shoulders, throwing him off in the direction closer to where Anne, Diana, and Ruby treaded. Anne turned her head and shut her eyes to avoid the remnants of the splash.

Rising to the surface, Gilbert broke through the water forcefully, shaking free the droplets clinging to his hair. Anne tried to look away with all her might. Yet she could not. Somehow she found this scene too mesmerizing and beautiful to try and ignore. Yes, Gilbert was a beautiful sight to behold. His strong form outlined against the black, starry night and radiated from the full moon that hung low in the sky.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, what is wrong with you?

He seemed to take notice of her attention, and took it as an opportunity to swim in her direction, his chin resting in the water, arms spreading outward and propelling him forward. Anne suddenly pictured herself as the prey waiting to be devoured by the hungry alligator she had read about in one of the books that Miss Stacey had loaned her. Logically, she should have tried fleeing from him, but his eyes seemed to freeze her in place.

When he reached her, he gave her a devilish-look that only meant one thing when it came to Gilbert. “Seeing as we both tied fair and square for the Queen’s exams,” he acknowledged, rightfully so, Anne noted. “What do you say to a friendly tie-breaker?” His left eyebrow rose slightly, edging her on to accept this unknown competition.

Figuring that she truly had nothing to lose at this point, since school and exams were done until Queen’s, Anne returned his questioning stare with a resilient one of her own. “You make an equitable point Mr. Blythe,” she answered as seriously as she could, trying not to let him detect the hint of playfulness in her tone. “What do you have in mind?”

Gilbert explained the rules of the game to their circle of friends. He would sit on Moody’s shoulders and Anne would sit on Charlie’s shoulders. The two would then attempt to be the first to knock the other off of their partner’s shoulders. Anne seriously wondered what she had gotten herself into, for Gilbert was far stronger and sturdier than she as revealed by his topless form. Which she was doing her best not to think about. Not at all.

Ducking down, Anne got upon Charlie, and checking to make sure she was securely on his shoulders, slowly began to lift himself out of the water, holding tightly onto her legs as he went. Anne’s stomach churned uneasily as gazed down from her viewpoint at Diana and Ruby who stared back up in nervous anticipation. Much to her displeasure, some of the other students started to take notice of the scene that was about to unfold, and swam to join the girls, including the horrid Billy Andrews and Josie Pye.

“Let’s go Gilbert! Put this skinny orphan in her place!” Billy taunted from below, which made the blood in Anne’s veins begin to boil. She in no way desired to injure her friend, but winning always meant something noteworthy when it came to the pair. Anne would put up her best fight.

She looked ahead at Gilbert, who rested firmly and effortlessly on Moody’s shoulders. Anne took a large gulp of air to assist in the clearing of her head. Then Charlie carefully maneuvered them forward until the curly-haired boy was close enough to touch.

“Ready?” he asked quietly, the corners of his lips raising to form a smirk. Anne gave him a brisk nod in reply, her eyes narrowing in on her opposition, while her heart jumped at the sudden contact of his long fingers interlacing with hers. He held their hands up, at collarbone level, in preparation for the battle that was about to begin.

“On the count of three,” Josie called uninterestedly. “One—“ His grip on her fingers tightened. “Two—“ Anne mirrored his body by leaning toward their embrace. “Three!”

Both used their muscles to exert force at the same time, Gilbert’s distinctly harder than Anne’s, and Charlie teetered slightly under the movement from above. She could hear the class cheering from below, the boys shouting Gilbert’s name and the girls, Anne’s. The redhead grunted, extending her arms as far as possible to resist the effort Gilbert was making in trying to get her to topple off of Charlie. He countered her attack, yet she noticed a slight shift in his demeanor.

Giving a final push with as much strength as she could muster, she watched as the boy before her began to fall sideways into the water. It was almost as if she were observing him from a dream because she only became aware that their fingers remained interlocked when she felt her body drifting off of Charlie shortly after Gilbert slid from his perch on Moody.

Landing in the water, her frame met his almost immediately, and she feared she might have hurt him. His body burned against hers as his back met the lake floor. Reaching out her arms, she wrapped her fingers around his shoulders to check if he was responsive. However, as soon as she touched him, his arms wrapped around her waist soundly, and they began their descent up to the surface. For a moment, they were suspended in time. Just him and her. Floating with no point of reference. Then Anne was coughing up the unexpected water from her chest when she met the warm night air again. Gilbert let her go as their friends gathered around to see if they were alright, and when it was confirmed that they were fine, they started cheering for Anne’s close victory.

“I guess that settles it then,” Gilbert informed her affectionately from over her shoulder. “Fair and square, Anne-girl.” His eyes met hers proudly as he and Moody hoisted her up on either side of their shoulders. Anne returned his admiration with a hidden smile.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

In the late hours of the night, Anne lay silently in her bed, staring up at the cracks on the ceiling, doing her best to will her mind to concentrate onto any other subject than him, for she wondered if she would get any sleep if every time she closed her eyes, she returned to that moment in the lake where his form was displayed so royally that she believed she could write endless poems and stories about a lonely, beautiful sea creature seeking the company of an equally desolate princess only when a full moon arose high above the shining waters.

It was the story evolving in her head that eventually lulled her to sleep. She drifted into a dream where a young boy, with the warmest brown-eyes, purposefully lost a spelling bee to a small, thin girl with the most horrendous red hair in a little white schoolhouse simply due to the fact that he forgot to add an ‘e.’

Perhaps not everything would always be ‘fair and square’ between the two of them, yet for some reason, it was beginning to matter less.

#anne with an e #awae #shirbert #shirbert ff #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #anne x gilbert #anne with an e season 3 #no spoilers here though #anne begins to recognize she feels some type of way #but she's still denying it of course #ellie writes

153 notes · View notes