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writethehousedown · 4 years

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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

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narcoleptic-drag-queen · 4 years

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“I wanna run into the sea! Can we run into the sea and tell the girls?”

Nodding excitedly, the three friends tore towards the coastline screeching like banshees. Scarlet could feel the wind in her hair, the sun beating down on her, and the sand shifting underneath her feet with every step she took.

She had never felt so conscious of her own mortality and yet as if she could live forever all at once.

- Not Nineteen Forever by @artificialortega

#the finale...#perfect bittersweet ending #i love this fic & ortega thank u for coming to my show lmao #n19f #ortega #branjie #scyvie #ninex #'our last summer' by abba starts playing

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artificialashley · 3 years

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Read this love confession on Facebook and thought I’d post it to ask if anyone wanted to write it in a fanfic and realised that it’s literally already the plot to one of mine 😭😭😭

#I’m an idiot #but ill still pay anyone to write a Facebook confession fic #not with money #but affection #gmn universe #girl on fire #ninex

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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To New Hytes, 10/10 (Group fic) - Mac

AN: I’m truly at a loss for words. I can’t thank Meggie enough for all the work she has put into this. Betaing for me is not an easy task and she makes it look simple.

I started this fic exactly a year ago to this day and I never imagined I would finish it, let alone fall in love with it. I know that was so cheesy but it had to be said.

I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

Summary: Yvie finds out what Scarlet has been hiding, Vanessa gets a new opportunity, and Trixie finishes Katya’s book.

Yvie held her breath as the minutes ticked by.

Scarlet had asked her breathlessly over the phone to come to the studio as quickly as she could. Yvie had done so, telling her Uber driver she would tip him extra if he got there in half the time.

The parking lot was practically empty when they pulled up, save for Scarlet’s pristine white Lexus parked right next to the door.

Yvie’s heart hammered in her chest and she felt like she might throw up from nerves. Scarlet had sounded worried. Scared even.

As she approached the doors, she found them unlocked, and the pit of dread in her stomach threatened to suffocate her if she breathed too deeply.

She and Scarlet hadn’t talked, not about anything meaningful anyway. Yvie hadn’t mentioned the conversation she had overheard, or the fears she had, or the crippling feeling that she was about to be left.

Yvie, confrontation-loving Yvie, hadn’t said a thing because she was scared it would only accelerate the path to loneliness.

She had bitten her lip.

She bit her lip now too to keep from crying, the familiar studio setting doing nothing to keep her mind steady. The lights were all down, save for a flickering candle at the end of the narrow hallway. It was still light outside so the image wasn’t as creepy as it could have been.

She followed the path down the hall, noticing more and more candles lining the pathway as well as a sudden appearance of rose petals on the ground.

The unease in Yvie’s stomach waned a bit as confusion took over.

When she rounded the next corner, it suddenly hit her. Standing in the doorways of the numerous practice rooms were her friends and coworkers; her family at this point.

Nina and Monet smiled brightly, as they offered her a red rose each, Nina reaching out to squeeze Yvie’s hand in reassurance. Yvie couldn’t stop the tears from springing to her eyes as she continued down the hall. Trixie, Jinkx, and Violet were up next, handing her more roses and winking knowingly. Then Vanessa, A’keria, and Dela, who giggled as she passed. Blair and Kameron gave her full body hugs and the last two flowers.

Then there was Brooke. The face of the company that had brought her and Scarlet together. The person that had made their dreams a reality.

Brooke pulled Yvie close and held on tightly. “You deserve all the happiness in the world,” she whispered.

And if Yvie wasn’t crying already, that would have done it.

She held onto Brooke for dear life, her mind spinning on her neck from the overwhelming feelings building up inside her. She smiled into the older woman’s shoulder and tried to channel the years and years of gratitude, adoration, and love into a simple embrace.

“Thank you.”

It was two simple words.

But Brooke knew.

She always knew.

She pulled back to give Yvie a once over, smiling softly as she moved a piece of hair out of Yvie’s face.

“Now go get your girl.” Brooke nodded in the direction of the rehearsal room.

Yvie giggled through the tears in her eyes and squeezed Brooke’s shoulders once more before turning to enter the last door.

Scarlet stood in the middle of the wide room, surrounded on all sides by rose petals and candles, smiling so brightly Yvie swore she had to squint.

Their eyes met, and Yvie felt so incredibly stupid for ever doubting her. For doubting them.

Yvie didn’t hesitate, she walked right up to her girlfriend and pulled her in by the waist for a kiss. Scarlet chuckled, taken off guard at first, before relaxing into Yvie’s arms, sighing happily against her lips.

“Yes,” Yvie whispered against Scarlet’s smile.

Scarlet pulled back just enough so she could roll her eyes pointedly. “Let me do my speech first, stupid.”

Yvie chuckled and nodded her head a second later.

“Yvangeline.” Scarlet smiled, “The day I met you I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear.” She swallowed, and Yvie noticed her hands trembling the slightest bit as she took them in her own. “I was scared because you made me want to open up in a way I hadn’t done in a long while. And you just showed up with your loud laugh and your weird style and I couldn’t help but fall for you.”

“Naturally,” Yvie cracked, making Scarlet roll her eyes fondly.

“You saw the good in me when no one else would.” Scarlet flipped her hair over her shoulder dramatically. “And I’m pretty great so I dunno how they didn’t see it.”

Yvie laughed to keep from crying. “You are.” She smiled.

Scarlet beamed. “So, my partner in crime, my one true love, my Yvie,” she said, taking a knee. “Will you marry me?”

Yvie didn’t even have to think before tackling Scarlet to the ground.

She was distantly aware of shrieks of joy coming from behind them, but she tuned them out, content to breathe Scarlet in and out for the rest of her life.

…

Brooke didn’t know what she was doing here.

She had taken time off, said she needed space and a place to regroup. But Scarlet had called her in a frenzy, pleading for her help and advice. Brooke wasn’t about to turn her away.

So now here she was, sandwiched between Nina and Kameron who were doing their best to collectively bite their tongues at her sudden appearance.

Scarlet, like any good stage manager, had walked them through the process, telling each person the precise place they needed to stand and the exact second they needed to poke their heads out. Brooke chuckled to herself that even during one of the supposed ‘happiest moments of her life,’ Scarlet still had to micromanage.

Pot meet kettle, her mind shot back.

Yvie of course said yes, and the rest of the girls surrounded the couple, drowning them in hugs and congratulations.

The group migrated toward the adjacent practice room that had been set up for the afterparty. Food and drinks and music began to flow freely as lively conversation ensued.

Brooke stuck to Nina’s side like duct tape, avoiding making eye contact with anyone who might ask her questions, specifically one young gorgeous brunette that seemed to be absorbed in whatever hilarious thing A’keria had said.

Brooke had said she needed time to put things in perspective. She had meant that she hoped time would make her feel less crazy, less out of control. A place where things weren’t so intensely overwhelming.

All she had found in her three days of leave was that her bed felt slightly bigger.

Nothing monumental.

No grand epiphany under intense stress.

No flashing lights or dangerous circumstances.

No near-death experience.

Brooke’s bed just felt too big.

The hole in her chest felt even bigger.

That’s how she knew it was love. Because it came in the form of something so painfully ordinary that it made Brooke want to scream.

Brooke was sulking in the far corner when Monet came by to steal Nina away for some “picture editing business.” And by “picture editing business” Brooke knew that Monet actually meant that they were going to go make out in Brooke’s office.

She rolled her eyes at the two lovebirds, but bit back a smile as they disappeared down the hallway, giggling like highschoolers. It was then that she caught Vanessa’s eye over the crowd of people.

Vanessa spoke to the group beside her, eyes never leaving Brooke’s, as she excused herself. She approached slowly, giving Brooke ample time to run away.

But she didn’t. Not this time.

“Hey,” Vanessa spoke cautiously, nervous energy rolling off her stiff shoulders.

“Hey.”

They both stared at the floor.

“Wasn’t sure when you was comin’ back.”

“Yeah, me either.”

The silence stretched out between them

Vanessa sighed. “Well,” she coughed, “I just wanted to thank you for everythin’.”

Brooke’s head shot up at her oddly professional tone. “What do you mean?”

“Nina didn’t tell you?” Vanessa looked surprised.

Brooke shook her head.

“I got an offer from another studio.”

Brooke’s heart plummeted to her stomach.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa breathed shakily, her hands fidgeting by her sides the longer she stood in place.

She let the information linger in the air between them for a bit, dousing the conversation with an even more tense air, before finally meeting Brooke’s eyes.

“I’m not gonna be in your way no more.” Vanessa smiled sadly. “You’re free.”

Brooke shook her head. No. No. This wasn’t right.

“Vanessa—”

The younger woman cut her off. “I appreciate the experience, Ms. Hytes.”

Brooke had only seconds to act, her brain taking over in a split second to stop Vanessa’s retreat. Her arm darted out of its own volition and she grabbed Vanessa’s hands in her own. It was an act of desperation, Brooke not willing to lose Vanessa. Not again.

“Stay,” she blurted out.

Vanessa raised her eyes slowly, her guard up. “What?”

There was that ever-present wariness lingering in the back of Brooke’s mind, but she shook it off and cleared her throat, desperately trying to get a hold of herself. “I’m asking you to stay.”

Vanessa’s eyes hardened and she went to shake her head. “Brooke—”

“Not as your boss,” Brooke clarified, accentuating her point by squeezing Vanessa’s hands, holding them securely, close to her heart. “‘Nessa,” she said softly, “I want you to stay.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Vanessa nodded. It was measured, unyielding. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Brooke shook her head, smiling to herself. Of course, Vanessa had to push.

The memory of their first meeting flashed in front of her eyes. All the unfounded anger and snarkiness and passive-aggressive words echoed in her ears. But so did the sound of Vanessa’s even breaths as she slept, her full belly laughs at Brooke’s endless list of dad jokes, her quiet humming in the shower.

Brooke found that in this instance, after everything it had taken to get them here, she didn’t seem to mind the pushing all that much.

“Because I love you.”

There was a beat of silence, just enough time for Brooke’s rational thinking brain to kick on and begin to spiral that she had misread everything and overstepped.

“You drive a hard bargain, Hytes.” Vanessa let the corner of her mouth twitch up. “But I guess I could stick around a bit longer.”

…

Katya had been standing outside the bar for nearly ten minutes now.

Trixie watched her through the sweaty window panes, sipping what had been rum half an hour ago but was now just melted ice cubes. She was stalling, swirling the water droplets in the bottom of her glass around in circles, attempting to get lost in this feeling of limbo that wouldn’t last much longer.

Katya hadn’t noticed her yet but had been checking her phone every few minutes for a text that wasn’t coming.

Trixie didn’t know how to do this right. Still wasn’t entirely convinced she wanted to do this in the first place. But Katya was looking more worried by the second, and Trixie couldn’t put this off forever.

She downed the rest of her ice cubes and didn’t shiver at the cold that traveled the length of her throat.

Katya looked up at her appearance, joy and hesitation etched into the clean lines on her face.

“Wanna take a walk?” Trixie offered.

Katya just nodded, the same nervousness persisting just beneath the surface of her skin. But she took Trixie’s hand in her own, much colder one; the younger woman fought the urge to shake it off.

“I read your book.”

Read was more of an understatement.

Trixie had devoured Katya’s autobiography in one sitting. She had poured over the pages upon pages of intricate details, funny asides, and heartbreaking losses. And at the core of it, she had found something so incredibly human that it burned in the back of her throat when she finished. Face wet, eyes sore, mouth dry, her stomach burning with the kind of ache that she had only ever heard songs about.

It was a mess. Chaotic and unhinged and tragically beautiful.

Tragic, because at the end of it all, Trixie knew for sure that she would never be able to compete with Katya’s home.

No amount of love she had for the princess would be enough to keep her.

“You miss it?” Trixie asked. “Russia?”

Katya quirked an eyebrow up at the change of subject. “Why do you ask?”

Trixie sighed and let herself come to a stop on the sidewalk. “I think you should go back.”

“What?” Katya exclaimed, eyes were wide in surprise.

“I think you should go home.”

“That’s not my home anymore. It never was,” she insisted.

Trixie shook her head, sad smile set in place on her lips. “That’s not true. The way you talk about it, the things you wrote… You talk about it like a lost love.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Trixie countered. “You love it and you miss it. There’s no shame in that.”

“I value my freedom too much to go back.”

“Katya, you have the opportunity to make a change over there. Your people are waiting for you!”

“They aren’t my people!” Katya exclaimed. “They are just people. And I don’t even know them. They don’t even know me. How the hell am I supposed to lead people I don’t know?”

“The way you do everything else. With unbridled passion.”

Katya looked back at her, shoulders set, eyes wild, lips turned up at the sides. She looked… impressed.

“You know you have to go back.”

“I know.” Katya laughed, loud and brazen and full of so much sadness that Trixie’s heart nearly gave out at the sound. “I just wanted a chance to live a little first.”

“And how was it?” Trixie smiled sadly, pulling Katya closer, their fingers intertwining loosely.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” Katya said wistfully, her eyes never once leaving Trixie’s. “I only wish we had more time.”

Trixie nodded, eyes watering of their own volition. Katya shook her head slightly as she wiped away the tears at the corners of Trixie’s eyes.

They stood like that in the middle of the sidewalk, holding each other, for an immeasurable amount of time. Breathing in and out for as long as they could stand it.

Eventually, Trixie’s legs tired and her arms ached and she felt the alcohol in her system fade to nothingness.

She was the first to pull away.

Words failed her at that moment as she stared into the eyes of this woman, the princess of Russia, this crazy fucking woman that had turned her world upside down.

Luckily she didn’t have to think of what to say.

“I won’t forget you, myshka.” Katya whispered in the small space

Trixie shook her head. “Me either.”

…

On the Uber ride back to the studio, Trixie unlocked her phone to find three missed calls and twenty-some texts, half being pictures of Brooke and Vanjie sucking face at Yvie and Scarlet’s engagement party. Trixie chuckled to herself.

About time, she thought.

Trixie thanked her driver with a generous tip and watched until his car disappeared into the bustling city traffic of the night.

She turned back toward the familiar building, her suddenly heavy feet making the trek to the propped door that much slower. She let her mind slow to nothingness as she entered the studio, noting the music still playing clearly over the speakers.

She made her way down the hallway, tracing her fingertips along the framed photos on the wall. Their first night of shows as a company, their first-ever programs, their world tour announcement.

Trixie smiled instinctively at the memories, clear as the pictures themselves.

As she rounded the corner to the rehearsal room, she smiled that much wider.

There, spread out in a circle on the very expensive, very meticulously cleaned dance floor, was the entire cast of To New Hytes Dance Company.

They greeted Trixie with a collective squeal and before she could blink, she was pulled down into the circle and handed a cup of room temperature wine.

As Trixie surveyed the scene, she felt a familiar warmth pool in the base of her gut, one that lit her up from the inside out. The smiling faces of her friends filling her vision and making the hole in her chest feel just a bit fuller.

When everyone had a cup, Yvie attempted to clear her throat loudly. It only resulted in setting herself off into a coughing fit and causing the rest of the girls to fall into raucous laughter.

After the noise died down, Yvie tried again.

“To old friends!” She hollered.

“To fresh starts!” Scarlet called.

“To New Hytes!” Trixie cheered.

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phrynewrites · 5 years

Note

I'd love a platonic brooke/Nina friendship fic for 9 please if you're okay with writing it! I feel like that prompt would be hilarious for those two after a night out!

Hello lovely! Ahh I’ve been so excited to write this since I saw it in my inbox and I’m sorry for all the waiting for the drabbles. I hope you enjoy what I’ve done with these two. It’s set in no particular AU.

“You don’t remember last night at all, do you?”

Yvie opened the door, revealing two laughing fools, obviously drunk, leaning against her railing, staring off at her rose bushes before snapping their attention back to Yive.

“You have mail you didn’t take in, Yvangeline.” Nina leaned against Brooke, shaking a couple mailers and a few envelopes. She opened up a Victoria’s Secret advert. “Look Brooke.” She held it out for her to see. “Free panty coupon.”

“With purchase or no?” Brooke slurred out. “Because that’s how they get you.”

Nina ignored her. “Ooh, this one looks like an electric bill.”

Brooke shook a finger at Yvie. “You got to pay those. That’s what Vanjie told me. She said, Brookie, we got to cut that check,” Brooke said, roughing up her voice a bit. “So. I. Did.” She punctuated with her finger.

“We did pay them, that’s why they’re out there.” Yvie grabbed the mail from Nina and stuffed it back in the box.

Nina took in Yvie’s bathrobe and green face mask. “Why are you green?”

“Why are you drunk?” Yvie shot back, face wrinkling.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Ooh, good point, goood point,” Brooke added. “We’re coming in.”

Yvie moved out of the way, allowing the two to slink in, hoping miserably that they would be quieter inside, fully knowing that they wouldn’t. They couldn’t even walk across her hardwood floors or needlessly share the same faded floral printed arm chair—there was a perfectly good couch just feet away from them—quietly. They continued exchanging giggles, Brooke sitting on Nina’s lap, Nina braiding Brooke’s hair.

Yvie shushed them. “You two need to be quiet. One of you can take the couch and sleep off all of this.” Yvie gestured to the two wrapped up on the chair. “Over there. Quietly.”

At first, they looked over at the couch, then at the fuzzy red blanket draped over the couch, then even further, at the coats on the hooks by the door: a run down brown fur coat and a black pea coat with silver buttons. Brooke and Nina shared a look, mouths forming o’s, before turning back to Yvie.

“Whose coat is that? Nina sang, reaching out to accept a cup of water from Yvie, bringing it to Brooke’s lips, allowing her to take a few slow sips, puckering her lips and breathing out an ‘ahh’ in response, taking the cup from Nina and returning the favor.

Yvie met them with confusion, half her face mask already washed off. “Uh, it’s Scarlet’s?”

“Are you two together yet?” Nina nearly choked on her water as she tried to talk and drink at the same time, Brooke using her sleeve to stop the water from dripping down Nina’s chin.

“Or are you two still just fucking?” Brooke attempted to wiggle her brows, but just ended up squinting.

“What?” Yvie leaned against her counter, shooting a worried glance back toward the bedroom. “You guys really need to be qui–”

“Because what worked for me and Monet, was like, just telling her, you know?”

“I just slid into Vanjie’s DMs.” Brooke finished the last of the water, twisting to place the empty cup down on the floor.

“After you slid your tongue into her mouth.” Nina wrapped her arms around Brooke’s waist, turning toward Brooke, allowing her pointed tongue to extend toward Brooke’s mouth, Brooke own tongue nearly meeting Nina’s.

“For the love of god,” Yvie said, already feeling her fuse drawing short. “Put your tongues back in your mouths.”

Nina pushed hers back in with her fingers, nodding at Yvie.

“Either way, all good ideas, so feel free to use them.”

Yvie let her head fall into her hands. “We’re literally married. You were both there.” She spread her arms wide. “You’re in our house right now.” Yvie pulled her robe tighter, returning to the kitchen sink to wash off the rest of the mask.

“Love is so beautiful.”

Nina’s lip quivered. “I love love.”

“Love’s the best.” Brooke’s voice broke as she fell against Nina, wrapping her arms around her neck.

Yvie, now fresh faced, brought her attention back to the two, who now sat sobbing against one another, babbling on about how much they loved each other and how they would love each other forever.

God, she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of this sooner. Get Monet and Vanjie to pick these idiots up. The sooner they were out of her living room, the sooner she could go to bed, and the sooner Yvie could fall into a well deserved sleep.

“Yvie, get over here and love with us.” Brooke mumbled into Nina’s shoulder.

Yvie returned from the bedroom with her phone. “I’m calling your wives to come get you two.” It was nearly half past one a.m., and it she supposed it was rude to call this late, but right now it didn’t matter.

“Nu-uh.” Nina shook her head, eyes still glassy. “They’re at a bachelorette party.”

“Sloshed,” Brooke added.

“Very sloshed. And they can’t drink and drive because that’s bad.”

“Yeah.” Brooke peeled one arm off of Nina and put her hand on her hip. “And we can’t either. Because it’s bad. That’s why we drink and walked.” She added with a sassy little grunt, which Yvie had absolutely zero time for.

“Okay, then again,” Yvie said, drilling each word in. “You both stay here. And sleep on the couch.” She picked up the discarded cup, refilling it with water, turning back toward the living room, only to find that Brooke and Nina were now sitting on the floor with the fuzzy red blanket over their heads.

She set the cup on the coffee table. “Okay, what is this?”

“It’s a blanket fort.”

“And you’re not invited,” Brooke yelled, pointing at Yvie under the blanket.

Yvie rushed over, lowering Brooke’s finger, hissing “You need to be quiet.”

“What I need is more to drink.” Brooke replied easily, her arm falling heavily back down in her lap.

“Fine.” Yvie fell back into the arm chair. “There’s a cup of water on the table.”

Brooke’s long fingers snaked out from under the blanket, like a predator stalking prey, pawing around aimlessly until she brushed against the cup, inching it toward her, and then in a rapid motion, taking it under the blanket.

“For your kindness, fair Yvangeline.” Brooke’s hand shot out again, this time depositing Nina’s watch on the coffee table. “A gift, for you.”

Yvie breathed out a string of profanities, unable to be taken by their silliness, their lilting laughter under the blanket. She wanted to go to bed.

Yvie yanked the blanket off, finding the two huddled together, spilled water next to them.

“Okay, now it’s time to go to bed.” She pulled a set of sheets and an extra pillow out of the hall closet, setting up the couch and chair, shoving the spare pillow into Nina’s hands. “Please. Just lay down on the couch and go to bed.”

“The couch is too small.” Nina pointed out.

“Yes.” Yvie rolled her eyes. Hard. “That’s why one of you will be on the chair.”

“But we want to sleep together.” Brooke pouted.

“Holding hands.”

“Like sea otters.”

“Okay,” Yvie drawled out, pulling the chair closer to the couch. “Now you can hold hands.”

Nina grabbed Brooke by the shoulders. “Or, we could cuddle,” she said. “Like the good ol’ days.”

“I don’t care what you do, just go to bed.”

“Or…” Brooke trailed off, eyeing the oven. “We all make cookies like we did in the good ol’ days.”

“Yes!” Nina bounced on her toes, rushing toward the kitchen, pulling Brooke with her.

“No.” Yvie pulled at her hair. “No no no. It’s bedtime.”

But Brooke and Nina were already opening and slamming cabinets haphazardly, in hot pursuit of a baking tray and a bowl. Brooke decided a pot was close enough.

Nina found a tray, holding it up as Brooke gawked at it in wonder.

“You know that one vine—”

“I swear to god, Brooke,” Yvie interrupted. “Don’t do it.

“—with the woman banging on the pan, like—”

Yvie’s eyes flashed angrily at Brooke, her face tightening as she saw Nina nod slowly, reaching for the pot.

“Put that down, Nina.”

Nina did not put it down.

Instead, she banged it against the tray as her and Brooke yelled “I didn’t get no fuckin’ sleep cause of y’all, y’all—”

Yvie reached across the counter, grabbing the pot.

Scarlet meandered out into the living room, dazed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, adjusting her over-sized t-shirt. “What is this?”

The three stood frozen in their position, Nina and Brooke with their child-like grins, Yvie mouthing ‘I’m so sorry, babe.’

Nina and Brooke dropped the tray and pot, letting it land with a metallic shutter, and ran toward Scarlet, the two pinning her against the armchair in a tight embrace.

“We’re making cookies. Do you want to make cookies?”

Nina nodded rapidly, feverishly grinning, hoping her own enthusiasm would wipe the confusion off her face and convince her to join them.

Scarlet looked up, over Nina’s shoulder, quirking a brow at Yvie, who mouthed back ‘They’re drunk.’

“Okay.”

Giddily, they each took a hand and pulled her back into the kitchen.

After the cookies were finally made and eaten, the clock struck three times on the hour, and Brooke and Nina were forced to drink another cup of water each and brought back to Scarlet and Yvie’s bed, so the two of them could cuddle and hold hands to their heart’s content until sleep overtook them, Scarlet and Yvie passed out on the couch, blanketed in exhaustion.

***

Nina and Brooke stumbled down the hall, feeling the walls for balance, struck by the sunlight pouring from the open windows, the mess in the kitchen, and Yvie and Scarlet, who stood in the middle of it, eating toast and drinking coffee as though their cabinets weren’t dusted in flour and batter didn’t sag from their counter tops.

“What happened here?” Nina asked, sighting her watch on the coffee table, fumbling to put it on, her pounding head complicating the task.

“What’s that look about?” Brooke pointed between the two of them, Yvie letting out a bellowing laugh in response, Scarlet continuing to drink her coffee.

Yvie brushed toast crumbs from her fingers, a devilish grin forming on her curled lips. “You don’t remember last night at all, do you?”

#for anon #drabble #nina x brooke #friendship fic #slight mentions of #ninex #branjie #scyvie #rpdr fanfiction #phryneff #answered

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barbiehytes · 4 years

Note

Could you help me... I’m trying to find a branjie fic- where Brook runs a dance company, Vanessa is one of the dancers, kameron injured her leg but is thinking of returning to joint own the company with Brook. Blair is a costume designer (her and Kameron get along well) and Ninex is in it to?

Hiii babe!!! 💖💖💖💖

Is To New Hytes by the incredible @imalwaysaslutfordrag, here's the link!!!

Have a nice day and nice reading! 😘😘😘

#I love when you guys ask me for fics it helps me feel useful 😂😘#fic asks #we truly are mac's fan club this days i love it

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imalwaysaslutfordrag · 4 years

Note

I really really love to new hytes I'm a big ninex fan so any fic with that in it has my attention :) I was wondering if u had any songs u thought went with any of the couples in the fic sorry for bothering u hope u have a great day thanks for writing such a good fic 💛

You are not a bother oh my god, please don’t say that!! I love talking about TNH and all the respective couples. I put together a couple of songs that really fit the TNH Ninex vibe here, it’s a lot of older happy music, but for me, it just really fits the feeling of when they finally get together. It’s cheesy and sappy and mushy, but it’s also pure joy.

I can make other playlists if you’re interested! I really enjoy curating songs even though my own Spotify is a mess of different genres.

Thank you for stopping by, it really means a lot! I hope you are having a lovely day wherever you are!

#mac speaks #shut up mac #ninex #TNH Playlist #answered

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pink-grapefruit-cafe · 5 years

Text

grapefruit’s fanfic masterpost

(because i think you should read it x)

Branjie

multi-chapter fics

trainwreck (3/3)

[lesbian fake dating au. teen branjie. 5k]

if we have each other (6/6)

[dad!vanjie centric kid fic containing heavy branjie and ninex and bits of scyvie, trixya, kasia and more. 16.2k]

treat me nice (never let me go) (15/15)

[branjie, lesbian pretty woman au. 34.5k]

summer lovin’ (8/?)

[lesbian love island au ft. every possible pairing. 27.1k]

we didn’t start the fire (1/?)

[firefighter au. multiship. very domestic. multiship. light angst. 6.3k]

e le v e n (series)

imagine me and you (i do)

[episode 1. 1K.]

(and then you say) i think we’re alone now

[episode 2. 811 words]

one (it’s the loneliest number)

[episode 3. 1.2k]

(the danger is) i’m dangerous

[episode 4. 842 words]

i was standing (you were there)

[episode 5. 1k]

keep breathing (i can’t do this alone)

[episode 6. 883 words]

(i know you’ll be by my side) in the heat of the moment

[episode 7. 1.2k]

(run boy run) this world’s not made for you

[episode 8. 1.1k]

hang onto your hopes my friend

[episode 9. 991 words]

don’t stop me now (cause i’m having a good time)

[epsiode 10. 912 words]

won’t ya kiss me (on that midnight street)

[episode 11. 912 words]

dancing to the rhythm (of our heart and soul)

[episode 12. 1k]

i light another cigarette (learn to forget)

[reunion/epilogue. 111 words]

coughing up petals (series)

save your breath

[songfic save your breath - adore delano. 2.6K. brooke pov poetic angst]

twenty seven club

[songfic twenty seven club - adore delano. 2K. dark vanessa pov angst]

les fleurs de l’enfers

[hanahaki flower fic. 3.1k. can i argue this is underrated?]

my sense of wonder’s just a little tired

[songfic lost - dermot kennedy. 1.2K. reunion centric angst]

of roses and bleeding and crying too much.

[songfic ivy - frank ocean. 792 words. idk]

freedom tastes like gasoline

[songfic since you left me - joy cooke. 768 words. vanjie centric]

i’ll never be free

[songfic i’ll never be free. 624 words. for frey]

interlude (series)

interlude 1.1

[5 times brooke kissed vanjie to calm her down, and 1 time vanjie kissed brooke. 2.8K]

interlude 1.2

[The five times they follow the rules, and the one time they break them. 2.3k]

one-shots

summertime sadness

[a depressing romp through finding love again. heavy angst. metaphors. 8.8k]

say it soft (and it’s almost like praying)

[them saying i love you. metaphors. 1.1k. very soft. maybe my favourite]

colour theory

[the colours of emotions basically. 888 words. i like it]

ice cream.

[lesbian branjie kidfic. 1.1k. the kids grow up and ice cream is special]

sunny (yesterday my life was full of grey)

[happiness? idk that’s the description. 1k words.]

baby (you’re like lightning in a bottle)

[vanjie meets brookes mom and is awkward. 1.2 k]

the broken hearts club.

[lesbian vanjie centric breakup fic. 2k]

an intimate discussion on the state of hotel beds

[lesbian friends with benefits, guilty pining, 1k words]

(wo)men in glass houses

[friends that should not have benefits. songfic. 1.5k]

Trixya

i hope you’ve got the time (to keep that air between your lungs)

[lesbian university flower soulmate au. 4k. technically 2 chapters]

we’re not bruised they’re just party tattoos

[i wrote this in 2017. 503 words]

we’re not bruised they’re just party tattoos

[i rewrote it in 2020. 969 words]

who we are and who we are not

[good place au sort of. time bendy. does not require knowledge. 3k]

we didn’t start the fire (1/?)

[firefighter au. very domestic. multiship. light angst. 6.3k]

just like a folk song (our love will be passed on) (1/3)

[folklore songfic, coming of age. fluff. angst. 6.9k]

the language of flowers

hello, goodbye, hello

[kasia and katya coming of age pre trixie. 3.6k]

ancolie (innocence, foolishness)

[lesbian flower shop/bakery au. 1.6k. fluff. flower metaphors.]

i’ll be yours (if you’ll be mine)

[multiship valentines drabble chapters set in katyas shop. much trixya. 4.5k]

workplace romance series

1793

[ the beginning of time. 1k]

1983

[ anaheim, the third time. 1k]

1990

[ santa monica, meeting two. 1.2ish k]

1995

[milwaukee, the fifth time. 1.2k]

2002

[ boston, no.4. 1k]

Ninex

i believe that we will win

[iwhe universe fic. monet x nina with kids being supportive soccer dads. 736 words]

bad idea (let’s keep kissing)

[songfic bad idea - waitress. theatre lesbian au. 2.3k]

i’ll be yours (if you’ll be mine)

[multiship valentines drabble chapters set in katya's shop. 4.5k]

we didn’t start the fire (1/?)

[firefighter au. very domestic. multiship. light angst. 6.3k]

how will i know?

[phd student lecturers. songfic how will i know - whitney houston. 6k]

Kam/Asia

hello, goodbye, hello

[kasia and katya coming of age pre trixie. 3.6k]

we didn’t start the fire (1/?)

[firefighter au. very domestic. multiship. light angst. 6.3k]

drunk in love series (also a part of the iwhe universe)

(hey baby) i think i wanna marry you

[rare pair fic challenge. 2.5k. drunk marriage. tour fic]

peppermint and tequila

[exactly how they got drunk enough to get married. 600 words]

Trixie/Bendelacreme

how did you get in (nobody’s supposed to be here)

[based off of bens elimination in as3. 900 words.]

Jan/Jackie

i do like you.

[university fic, year abroad, pining, angst, loveeee, lesbians, 3.5k]

star-uncrossed

[Jan and Jackie meet and Jackie is the sweetest. falling in love. 1.7k]

we might be hollow (but we’re brave)

[coming of age songfic to lorde. fluffy. 3k]

liability

[a depressing romp through finding yourself after trauma. 6k. fluffy ending]

the kind of love you don’t believe in

[divorce lawyer/wedding planner lesbian au. pure fluff. i love it. 7.3k]

papillionlisse (3/6)

[harry potter au, exchange student, fluff, 9.5k]

we didn’t start the fire (1/?)

[firefighter au. very domestic. multiship. light angst. 6.3k]

Gigi/Nicky

i do like you.

[university fic, year abroad, pining, angst, loveeee, lesbians, 3.5k]

papillionlisse (3/6)

[harry potter au, exchange student, fluff, 9.5k]

Taywhora

don’t just stand their staring honey (try to move your feet)

[they were roommates/fake dating/friends to lovers. slowdance universe. 4k]

ain’t no doubt about (it i’m in love)

[soft valentines day fluff. slowdance universe. 1k ]

i couldn’t be more in love

[canon compliant. metaphors. angst. coughing up petals. 764 words]

Rose/Denali/Gott Mik

we cry tears of mascara in the bathroom (honey life is just a classroom)

[gottrose. drunk in bars. lesbian. songfic ]

tu besos es my salvation

[rosenali hanahaki. canon compliant competition based. ]

home for the summer

[gottrosenali. friends to lovers. coming of age. ]

Drabbles

i’m so tired [branjie]

they know the best of you [branjie]

middles [trixya]

evolution [branjie]

insomnia [ninex]

the birth of venus [branjie]

moments like these [trixya]

happy birthday [ninex]

3 a.m. [branjie]

witching hour. [branjie]

team building [jan x jackie]

my feet hurt. [jan x jackie]

cute [ninex]

can i kiss you? [jan x jackie]

grinch season [ninex]

family dinner [ninex]

miscommunication [ninex]

is that how you flirt? [jan x jackie]

Poetry

g r a p e f r u i t

[poetry collective]

Avengers Anthology Contributions

delicious

[an extended metaphor about pancakes. 1K. branjie]

#charlottes fanfic masterpost #of her own fanfics #and they're sorted and described #because i am what?#organised

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Girl on Fire (Ninex) - Ashley

A/N: Nina finally starts to believe she is more than just a sidekick in other people’s fairy tales. Only her dream night is cut short when she is dragged away by her drunk best friend as soon as the clock strikes one-thirty. Monet is sick of pining after her straight best friend and thinks she’s finally found someone who steals her heart away. However, she doesn’t have any idea what her name is. (10k words)

Here goes my submission for the Black Girl Magic challenge, I had so much fun writing this and hope you guys enjoy - think of it as Cinderella in 2020. It is set in the same universe as Got My Number (Branjie fic) however you do not have to have read that to read this. Would love any comments/feedback/concrit anyone has and if anyone would just like to chat my sideblog is @artificialashley. Big thanks to Meggie for betaing this like a legend <3 Hope everyone is as well and as safe as they can be in these current times xoxo

It was safe to say that Nina had been placing her friends’ needs above her own for a long time. She didn’t know when it had started; be it the time she let Brooke swap roles with her last-minute before their drama exam in school, or every time she’d acted as a false alibi for Yvie during her secret rendezvous with a private school girl from the other side of the town, but it had been happening for a while.

This wasn’t something she felt guilty about, not something she would change for the world. Only every now and again the tiniest part of her brain wondered why she couldn’t be the one to have the Disney princess storyline, why she was always stuck as the bumbling sidekick, there to push forward someone else’s narrative. That was how she usually ended off feeling on nights out.

With Brooke sloppily dancing with a boy to her right and Yvie’s mind clearly elsewhere, Nina figured she might as well accept that this night wouldn’t be spent exactly how she’d pictured and try to enjoy it nonetheless.

“I’m gonna get another drink, you want anything?”

“I’m alright.” Yvie nodded, clearly distracted. “I might head back soon, anyway.”

Looking back to Brooke and the boy, a lilt of panic rose in Nina’s body. She knew her friend was a grown girl who could look after herself. But that didn’t falsify the universally acknowledged fact that when Brooke Lynn Hytes began to toss her hair and sway her hips, no one was safe. “Wait ‘til I’m back, though?”

“Of course,” Yvie responded, adding a thumbs up for good measure.

With that Nina made her way to the bar, trying her hardest to be speedy whilst still polite, something that was almost a kamikaze mission on nights like that. Despite her taller and broader frame, she’d always struggled to worm her way to the front of the bar, scared of hurting anyone near her and trying her best to remain patient.

Her foot tapping against the floor without thought, a wave of relief washed over her when a bartender beelined her way.

“A single vodka lemonade please,” she smiled to the man, holding the exact amount of change in her hand ready.

To her surprise, she heard a laugh to her left. A deep throaty laugh, the kind that required someone’s head to fall back to escape.

That’s when she saw her.

Monet.

“Make that a double,” the girl’s voice flanked down the bartender, smooth like honey. “With Red Bull. None of that lemonade bullshit. And one for me too.”

It wasn’t a secret that Nina had had a crush on the girl for a while. Or at least not to her friends.

It had started in year 13, when their sixth form decided to make some promotions, placing posters on the front gates, on roundabouts and even on buses around the town - Monet’s bright smile and warm brown eyes adorning every single one.

“Doesn’t Bob’s sister look just like her?” Yvie pointed at the poster as they made their way out the gates, on route for their daily meal deal.

“I know right!” Brooke added. “They could be twins.”

But Nina didn’t really agree, stopping in her tracks. “Look at her eyes, they’re much bigger than Bob’s. And her cheekbones, Bob’s face is more round. Look at her lips…” She trailed off for a moment. “She’s beautiful.”

Brooke and Yvie turned their heads to face her in synchronisation, realising the same thought.

“I’m not saying Bob isn’t pretty,” Nina panicked, afraid that she had been rude about the kind and bubbly girl that everyone in her year adored. “I just meant—”

“We know what you meant.” Yvie grinned with every muscle in her face.

“Nina and Monet, sitting in a tree—” Brooke started to sing and wave her arms in the air, only to be interrupted mid-stride after being swatted with a plastic folder full of literature coursework.

“We don’t even know her!” Nina turned to them, a blush starting to seep through her pale cheeks. “You can’t fancy someone you don’t know.”

She didn’t need Brooke or Yvie to tell her that wasn’t true.

“Oh,” Nina turned to face her, lost for words being an understatement to how she felt.

“Sorry,” Monet laughed, looking her up and down in a way that made Nina’s body tremble. “I wasn’t going to let a girl stand and wait anxiously for so long to order a single vodka lemonade, not on my watch.”

Before Nina could think of how to respond, the bartender had returned with their drinks, Monet handing him over a note and taking them, sliding one in Nina’s direction.

Nina found herself in awe almost of the other girl’s confidence.

“Thank you,” she managed to muster after taking a sip, the sweet tang of the drink giving her a shock, her hand automatically raising to her mouth.

“Oh,” Monet tilted her head and pointed a finger. “You’re one of them.”

“One of who?” Nina looked around confused, paranoia racing through her veins, only dissolving once she felt Monet’s hand touch her arm. Nina wondered if maybe a flame burned inside Monet’s ribcage where her heart should have been, heat radiating from the girl’s hands and eyes, from the entirety of her curvy frame.

“One of those pretty girls who just stands with a drink and doesn’t dance. The boring ones.”

And for a moment Nina forgot about it all. She forgot about how drunk Brooke was across the dancefloor, she forgot about how distracted Yvie had been acting. She forgot about her worries, her nerves, her usual hesitation. She forgot there were other people on the planet as she watched the girl she had crushed on for the longest time light up the night around them.

“I think you’re wrong,” Nina spoke softly, finishing the rest of her drink in record time.

She didn’t know if her heart was beating fast because of the girl or the drink. But either way, it was telling her that if she didn’t let those arms hold her it would jump right out of her chest and onto the sticky floor below.

And so she did, swaying to the music in time with Monet, letting the girl’s hands wander around her waist.

“Can I touch your hair?” Nina whispered, almost too quiet for Monet to hear.

Suddenly, she remembered seeing the girl eating on the grass once when the sun was out and shining. How she’d watched as her friend attempted a cartwheel and failed, Monet throwing her head back with laughter, her curls dropping down and almost touching the grass below them.

Monet nodded in response, Nina slowly and gently running her hands through the locks, smooth against her skin.

That’s when she felt Monet’s body inch in closer to her own, Nina seeing the purple sparkle on her eyelids briefly before shutting her own and leaning forwards.

She could feel the flame inside Monet make its way into her own body too, burning the whole floor that surrounded them. One word, one name running circles around her brain. Her lips felt familiar like Nina was simply coming home from a trip away. They moved together just perfectly, an equal balance of pressure back and forth.

Nina’s eyes opened for a second as she watched Monet pull away, a big, bright, and beautiful grin plastered on her face. Before she could take it in anymore she was pulled back into the fire, immersed in its embers, the outside world fading away to ash and dust around her.

Maybe she was more than the sidekick for one night.

That was until someone called the emergency services and the fire was extinguished.

That someone being Brooke Lynn Hytes.

She didn’t process it at first, the voice that was crying out being filtered out of her thoughts to focus on anything and everything Monet. But when she heard it again, Nina couldn’t help but double-take.

“You can’t kick me out! I’ve been coming here since I was fifteen, you nonces!”

Nina’s jaw dropped in horror as she saw her best friend being carried by two bouncers who’s heads almost touched the ceiling. Silently cursing at Yvie, she looked back and Monet, the red lipstick that was previously the definition of precision now smeared around her lips like a crime scene.

“I have to go.”

“Oh. Okay.” Monet frowned at her. “Can I get you on Snap? My phone’s dead, though. I’ll add you back as soon as I’m home.”

“Yeah,” Nina grinned, her mind taken away from her mess of a best friend for a split second to bask in what was happening. Only for her joy to plummet when she reached into her bag and pulled out an assortment of eyeliners and lip glosses instead of her phone. Her mind flashed back a few hours before when Brooke was only at her happy-drunk stage and had insisted on taking some cute photos of them on Nina’s phone (having the best camera, of course), realising that her phone was, in fact, being carried out of the club in Brooke’s pocket as she spoke.

“Shit,” she looked back and forth between her bag and Monet as if it would appear by magic if she wished hard enough. Knowing she needed to hurry to her friend, she quickly grabbed Monet’s wrist and began scribbling across it with her eyeliner, giving her hand a quick squeeze before running off in the opposite direction to find Brooke.

She could have sworn her lips were still tingling by the time she’d caught up.

“Nina!” Brooke cried from her seat in the smoking area, throwing her hands in the air to hug her best friend, only for them to flop back down dead-weight at her sides when they didn’t reach.

“Please can you get her out of here?” The bouncers turned to face Nina, leaving her petrified like a school kid who’d been caught skipping lessons.

Nina’s motherly side came to fruition as she tried to convince Brooke to come home with her, secretly thinking about how long she could make fun of her for being in this state. She decided on at least until the Easter holidays were over, all the way up until Summer at a push.

Eventually, the light at the end of the tunnel began to emerge; Nina managing to convince Brooke to make her way home. The only problem was that she didn’t want to do so with Nina.

“You’re not coming with me, I want you to go in there and get yourself a shag. I know you fancy Bob’s sister. Do it for me, Nina, I’m living through you!”

Her cheeks turning a brighter red than the lipstick that was smothered around her mouth (Monet’s lipstick smothered around her mouth), Nina found herself both mortified and joyed at her friend’s words, a part of her bursting with excitement at the fact she’d finally managed to kiss the girl that always caught her eye but also embarrassed at Brooke’s choice of crude words and inability to lower the volume of her voice.

“I’m coming with you, just let me find Yvie.”

“Nooooooo.” Brooke protested as if she were being asked to go home with a criminal trying to kidnap her rather than her best friend of ten years.

That was when a gravelly voice appeared next to her, a familiar voice she had spent years trying to imitate, never fully being able to capture just how unique it was.

Oh, how she had missed spending time with Vanessa.

Nina had never been one to pick sides, always wanting to be friends with everyone as best as she could be, but it seemed that had been impossible since the infamous breakup plagued their group earlier that year. She understood why Vanessa had cut her and Yvie out of her life, knowing that they would only be a constant reminder of the past but she couldn’t help but long that their group of six was just that again. And seeing the way Vanessa was looking at Brooke gave her a sneaking suspicion that she was not alone in those thoughts.

Content that Vanessa would be able to talk sense into Brooke ten times better than she would, Nina retrieved her phone and checked the time. The club didn’t close for another thirty minutes. Her heart almost skipped a beat and she realised she had a whole thirty minutes to feel Monet’s hands around her waist, their lips pressed together with varying pressure, releasing waves of latent heat into the disco lights above.

Only in the sea of heads bopping to the music, one set of dark curls was nowhere to be seen.

***

“So tonight’s not the night then?” Monet felt Anthony speak close to her ear, his gaze cast to Monique, who they could hear giggling as she attempted to re-tie the back of Asia’s bodysuit, her drunk coordination and false nails making the tying of a bow as hard as neuroscience for her.

“No night is the night.” Monet rolled her eyes at her friend.

As much as she loved him and admired his ability to want to address issues head-on, she had to admit that he was sometimes just a pain in the arse. And a shit-stirrer. He was also a really big shit-stirrer.

“Whatever you say.” He held his hand up in defence, grabbing Monet’s wrist and dragging her over to the other half of their foursome.

Only her attempt to get lost in the music failed as soon as Monique grabbed her hands, twirling her around and playing like they usually did.

Growing up in Britain to a Caribbean family, Monet had fought hard to fight off the bad stereotypes and embrace the good ones that came her way. She had never thought the one that would plague her the most would be pining after her straight best friend, yet here she was, dreading the moment that the repetitive playlist would remix into Flo Rida’s Low and she’d have to let the stunning girl touch her as if it was no big deal at all.

She decided it might just be better after all if she went to the bar once the familiar beat began to play, figuring that alcohol would work as a good enough distraction.

Only once she arrived there, she found one that was much, much more promising.

It annoyed her at first, the incessant tapping of the girl’s shoe so loud she could hear it in the busy club. But then she looked at the legs attached to the tapping feet and the torso attached to those legs and the face attached to the torso and Monet suddenly felt much more forgiving.

She seemed the opposite of Monique, her body thick and her skin pale. Her mannerisms showed a shy, reserved girl, unlike the one that turned everything into a production, unlike the girl she had found herself longing to kiss for months on end.

Monet would have given her the world and more. But she instead settled for a drink.

The perfect distraction.

It wasn’t until they began to dance that Monet realised how different she was to her hookups of the past, finding something endearing in her nervous nature. Normally she’d find herself cringing at someone’s bad dancing, but the way the girl stomped only made Monet want to pull her in closer, seeing something in the girl’s smile that made her feel like she’d known her a lifetime. Never on a night out had she felt so invested, so unaware of her surroundings, unaware of Monique.

Usually, kisses in the club were sloppy, too much tongue and touching. This time was different, the girl asking politely if she could touch Monet’s hair (Monet wanted to tell her she could pull it as much as she liked but refrained with fear or sounding too eager). Her lips were soft and gentle; Monet may have just let a small moan escape from her mouth after they parted, unable to stop grinning once she pulled away. The usual fire of confidence that burned inside of her was dancing all over, going crazy over the dirty blonde and her blue jumpsuit, the sequins dazzling in the light of the disco.

She tasted of hope and Red Bull.

That taste still lingering once the girl had pulled away, scanning the room in a panic and turning back to Monet. She wasn’t a mind reader but she knew something was wrong.

“I have to go.”

The words pierced her skin like an arrow, shot from the closest range. Monet should have been okay, she knew it was unrealistic to think that the girl would invite her back and she’d spend the entire night in her arms. Yet all she wanted was to wake up in a big four-poster perfectly entwined with her body. Generally, Monet thought of herself as a rather chill person, not letting much get under her skin, but the thought of leaving without this girl’s Snapchat made her stomach tighten just enough.

She watched as she pulled out her eyeliner and scribbled, unable to read the scrawl properly in the darkness of the club, knowing she’d have to wait until she was home to read it properly.

Monet could still feel where the girl had squeezed her hand minutes later, standing alone for a moment to take it all in before starting a mission to find her friends.

It didn’t take long. Within thirty seconds of looking she could already see them, their own circle formed in a less busy area of the dancefloor, Asia pretending to make it rain whilst Monique and Anthony took turns in the middle, splitting and kicking to the pop track playing as though they were in a fight for their lives.

She wouldn’t change her crazy group of friends for the world.

“Hey girl,” Monet placed her hands on Asia’s shoulders, unable to keep the ‘I’ve just pulled a really fit girl’ grin off her face.

“She returns!” Monique screamed over the music, still focused on dancing and managing not to miss a beat. “You look like you’ve had fun.”

It was rare that Monet spoke to Monique about any hookups, keeping that part of her life a separate entity in their friendship, shutting her friend down whenever she asked any questions about it. In her home there was a fine line between what was discussed and what was not, Monet sometimes struggling to remove that division when she hung out with her friends, afraid that she’d only open the box and release more creatures than intended. Afraid Monique would realise how she truly felt.

Only this time it was different; maybe she was still reeling from the kiss or maybe it was the vodka, but she had no problem telling her friends about the amazing girl she had just met, or as well as she could do given that they were in the middle of a dance to the death.

“Hey, Monique, why don’t you just do a cartwheel?” Anthony shouted to her, causing an eruption of laughter on Asia’s face and a contrasting one on Monique’s that only meant trouble.

“Do not encourage her!” Monet turned to her two friends trying to keep a straight face, montages of all of Monique’s previous failed attempts flashing through her head. She pointed at her and raised her voice: “You cannot do a cartwheel.”

“But who said?”

“Jesus,” Monet shouted over the music, causing yet another eruption of Asia-laughter before the disaster struck.

It started off stronger than most of Monique’s previous attempts. Her hands touched the ground. Her legs went above them. Everyone managed to move away fast enough (this being the reason for failure for fifty perfect of said previous attempts). But it didn’t stay that way. Monet watched almost in slow motion as her arm buckled underneath her, bending in a way that arms shouldn’t bend, hearing Monique cry out in pain.

A cry of pain she could still hear hours later in their local accident and emergency, surrounded by bloody knees and gurning jaws, waiting impatiently for the imbecile she called her best friend to be released.

Normally people would wait until the next day to tell their friend’s “I told you so” in situations like this, but Monet wasn’t that humble, making sure to say it at least six times in the ambulance journey, then another seven to Asia and Anthony once they arrived in their Uber.

“But you have to admit I was winning the battle.” Anthony sat up on the waiting room chair and looked back and forth between the two girls. “She didn’t even know the words.”

Giving him a slap on the wrist, Asia’s motherly side came out, her nose scrunching in annoyance. “That is the last thing on my mind right now!”

“Monet?” He raised an eyebrow to her, avoiding Asia’s stern look.

“I don’t know, mate. I didn’t really see the entire thing, you know. Would be biased to judge from those ten seconds of failure.”

Monet immediately prepared for an ambush based on the looks on each of her friend’s faces.

And ambushed she was, the pair of them forgetting their circumstances for a moment to ask Monet one hundred and one questions about her hookup. Only looking down at her hand to see a messy smudge of eyeliner instead of a name, Monet realised she couldn’t have given them valid answers even if she wanted to.

It would be her to find a girl so intriguing, a girl who made her want to dance all night and lose her the second the clock struck one-thirty. Her only glass slipper of hope turned utterly unreadable during the heat of their panicked ambulance journey.

Sensing upset in her face, Anthony grabbed Monet’s hand tightly. “Do I need to fight someone?”

But before Monet could begin to explain that her hookup needed finding rather than fighting, they were saved by a familiar cry.

“What do we think?” Monique began to shimmy towards the girls, her arm wrapped tightly in a cast, gaining the attention of every soul in the room (or at least the ones who were fully conscious).

Monet knew she should have been concerned, her friend could have been seriously hurt, but something about Monique’s grin as she danced towards them made her beam instead.

“Tens. Tens. Tens across the board!” She yelled as her friend pranced, resulting in the filthiest look from the receptionist, letting them know it was their time to leave.

“McDonald’s?” Monique looked back and forth between her friends once they had left the front doors, clearly unbothered by their haphazard appearances and the fact she had broken a bone.

The rest of the group didn’t even have to answer her question, simply beginning to walk in that direction without discussion, laughing like they had no cares in the world.

Only as the hours tipped on towards dawn and Monique reached out to hold Monet’s hand, it burned red hot where a pretty girl’s Snapchat username has been written. A face embedded into her brain that wouldn’t disappear no matter how hard she tried, a mystery left waiting for her to solve.

***

“Rise and shine!” Nina sang to her best friend, earning only a grunt in response.

“Why are you here so early?” Brooke winced at the sunlight seeping from her window, putting her hand to her throat and grabbing a glass of what she assumed to be water from the nightstand.

Nina guessed by the look on her face after taking a swig that it certainly was not water.

“Because I didn’t want to miss breakfast!” Nina pulled a greasy brown bag from her backpack and waved it in Brooke’s face, who perked up as if by magic. “You should be grateful, I had a right hassle getting this! I nearly ran over some drunk girl with a broken arm just running through the drive-through away from her friends.”

“I’m eternally grateful.” Brooke budged along and patted a spot for Nina to lie next to her.

As much as she hated the drama of nights out and the pounding headache that stopped her productivity the next day, Nina had really missed hungover food and gossip sessions with her friends. It just wasn’t the same without them at Uni.

“So?” Nina looked at her friend, ready and eager to hear what had happened with Vanessa, taking a sip of her drink in anticipation.

“So…” Brooke trailed in response, raising an eyebrow to her friend.

“Did you and Vanjie talk?” Nina couldn’t wait any longer for Brooke to start, spitting her sentence out in one breath.

“Yes.” Brooke looked at her with a gaze Nina had never quite seen before, despite their years of early mornings and late nights of spilling secrets and stories. “But that can wait. What can’t wait is the fact that you managed to pull the girl you’ve had a crush on for ages. Let’s talk about that!”

“Oh. That was nothing.”

Nina was telling the truth. Or at least she was if nothing meant the best kiss of her life. If nothing meant that she could still smell Monet’s perfume when she was getting her breakfast that morning. If nothing meant that she went to bed grinning from ear to ear, the image of the girl pulling her closer a carousel running circles through her head. If nothing meant that every step she’d taken on her way home last night felt as if it were on air rather than the pavement. If nothing meant that she had finally felt like the protagonist of her movie, being granted a night of magic by some special force in the world.

“Nothing? Did you at least get her Snap?”

“Na.” Nina brushed her off.

It wasn’t a lie. Technically she hadn’t gotten Monet’s username - she’d given Monet hers. Yet when she woke up that morning she didn’t have any new requests. She’d be lying for real if she said her heart hadn’t plummeted. It was normal. It happened all the time. That’s what she always told Yvie whenever she was ghosted. Only Nina couldn’t stop the horrible feeling of a knife twisting into her heart that came whenever she checked her phone and saw no notification. She knew it was silly, that it was just a dumb kiss in the club, but she couldn’t help but feel stupid; like she’d been some sort of fool for believing something special had happened to her, a fool for thinking that confident girls like Monet who breathed fire would want to chat to awkward ones like herself who let themselves drown in rain.

“Well, you can just follow her on Insta then. I mean you stalk her enough anyway it’s about time.” Brooke pulled her phone to her face and started to type, a flurry of panic running up Nina’s spine.

She knew that there would be no follow back.

“It’s fine!” Nina raised her voice almost too much, her friend flinching slightly at the volume. “Honestly Brooke, I just want to forget it.”

Nina knew she couldn’t forget it if she tried. She couldn’t forget it if she paid for someone to erase her memories like they did in the films. She couldn’t forget it if she was hit on the head a dozen times.

She wondered if Monet even remembered it at all. Or had she just decided not to think about it, having probably done it many times before, something normal to her. Nina didn’t know which of these options would be worse. She guessed she would never find out.

“I’ll let it go if you give me the last bite of your bagel,” Brooke teased and Nina obliged (having lost her appetite to the wonderful diet technique known as anxiety anyways).

“Have you heard from Yvie then?” Nina asked, trying her best to change the conversation, to think of anything but Monet.

Monet and her kisses.

Monet and her voice.

Monet and her mouth.

She wasn’t very good at this.

“She texted me this morning,” Brooke responded. “Said she was sorry she left. She went for a wee and ran into Ja’mie—apparently, we were gone by the time she got back.”

“Fair enough,” Nina smiled, knowing that she too was responsible for Brooke being left alone. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Brooke thrust her phone into Nina’s hands (who didn’t want to begin to question why it was sticky). “You can repay me by helping me type a text to Vanjie. How do you say ‘Thanks for looking after me in my drunken state, let’s all go for food like old times sake then make up and have babies together someday’ without sounding too eager?”

Nina laughed at her friend and began to type into her notes, grateful that her A-Level in English Language had not gone entirely to waste.

If only she could use it to express her own feelings about a certain dark-haired beauty instead of those belonging to her best friend.

***

“Get up! You’re doing my shift tonight.” Monet’s eyes opened to the feeling of a pen smacking against her face, her older sister stood menacingly with another one in her hand, ready to be launched at any second.

“Erm, who says?” She sat up and looked at the time.

There was nothing like waking up past midday to really motivate her to work.

“I said when I picked you and your friends up from McDonald’s at eight in the morning. Or do you want me to tell Dad you spent the night in A&E?”

“Fuck,“ Monet thought to herself. Or maybe said aloud. She couldn’t really tell, too caught up in images of the night (or morning) before flashing through her brain. The memory of a still drunk Monique calling Bob and demanding she take them home from McDonald’s, running away from the rest of the group and into the busy drive-through when they tried to stop her. Sometimes it scared Monet how averse to danger her friend was, having willingly run in front of a beeping car despite her freshly broken arm just so she could beg Bob to save them a fifteen-minute walk.

“Guess I’m doing your shift.”

Monet didn’t really mind that much, she liked working in her parent’s restaurant, finding joy in being able to chat to customers, recommending food and talking all things Caribbean. A big part of her thanked the job for her social skills, making her outgoing and confident when others in her year often struggled to speak to people. Yes, she often wished she’d gone to University like some of her friends, longing to bask in that fantasy of late-night shopping trips and early morning study dates. But she knew it wasn’t really her style, figuring she’d go full time at the restaurant until she found her true calling. Everyone liked to act like there were these big time limits on when everything had to be done but Monet knew they didn’t really exist.

Besides, her job meant she always had enough money to buy vodka Red Bulls for handsome ladies in the club, one particular handsome lady coming to mind.

The smudge was still on her hand.

Some would probably tell her it was fate, that she lost it for a reason. That they wouldn’t have worked out.

But Monet didn’t believe in all of that stuff. Monet was a fighter of fate instead.

Whipping out her phone, she Facetimed her best friend, eager for help on her mission. She thought for a second that she should have called Anthony instead; after all, his eagle eyes knew the most about Monet’s love life. But a part of her just wanted Monique by her side, knowing that she’d never get over her feelings if she continued to isolate that part of her life.

“Hey, girl.” She answered on the second ring.

Normally Monet would have spent a moment or two thinking about how gorgeous her hair looked wet and slicked back or how perfect the purple of her dressing gown complimented her skin, how it hung on her body just right.

Only now her mind was overwhelmed with other thoughts.

“Do you know what page the club photos get posted on, from last night?” Monet asked her friend after a short while of broken arm-related discussion.

“Yeah, I’ll send you the link - but don’t be tagging me in any where I look a mess.”

“Thanks.” Monet flicked through the photographs, examining each one for a bundle of dirty blonde hair or sparkle of blue sequins. “I’m actually trying to find the girl I got with. Gonna see if she’s been tagged, yanno.”

“Oh.”

Monet stopped scrolling, letting the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “Oh?”

“Nothing,” Monique brushed off. “Just seems a bit extra, is all.”

“I just want to find her. Do you think I should post it on the Uni confessions page in case she goes there? Or what if I tweet it? Maybe a tweet is safer.”

“I swear you’ve never been this bothered about a pull before,” Monique laughed through the phone. A laugh Monet knew to be fake.

‘Because I normally want them to be you,’ Monet thought to herself but didn’t dare say out loud. Only not once during the kiss the night before had her mind strayed back to her best friend like it usually did. She didn’t know if that would ever find a girl to make her feel that way again, she wasn’t throwing it away.

“This one’s different, I’m confident about it.”

“Okay,” Monique smiled on the screen, raising her hands in the air in surrender. “But remember you were confident in GCSE textiles when you tried to make a children’s dress from sponges for our coursework. Doesn’t always mean you’re right.”

“Don’t bring that into this!” Monet gasped, the attack on her garment cutting deep almost like an attack on her entire being, earning a chuckle from her best friend. “Imma get going, gotta shower and go to the shops before my shift but I think I’m gonna tweet it. Who knows, might see her again when we go out on Monday!”

“Monday? Bitch, I’ve got a broken arm.”

“You can still wiggle.” Monet winked at her friend before bidding farewell and hanging up the call.

She may not have had a glass slipper to try on every girl in town but she did have all the power of social media on her side, and that would simply have to do.

***

Looking around at the other girls as they made their way through the town centre, Nina couldn’t help but feel utterly ecstatic.

Things had been awkward at first - the lack of contact since the Brooke and Vanessa break up was a huge elephant in the room that no one wanted to address. However, as time passed the awkwardness began to melt more and more, Nina was excited to learn anything and everything she had missed out on whilst the girls were away at Uni.

“It’s just down here I think.” Brooke squinted at her phone and pointed to one of the streets.

“I thought we were going to the Lebanese,” Akeria stated from Vanessa’s side, earning a jab in the ribs.

“Scarlet doesn’t like it.” Yvie turned to face her. “Besides this place is really nice, I don’t know why we’ve all never been.”

“Probably because we don’t have the same taste buds as your highness!” Silky laughed, Brooke muttering some sort of private school girl gag under her breath too.

“You better not go on like that when she gets there!” Yvie shot daggers to the pair with her eyes, only making them chuckle even more. "If one of you even thinks about calling her that nickname you will be drop kicked.”

It was safe to say Nina had missed their shenanigans, a part of her wishing she could rewind time back to when they went for food like this every other week.

She’d missed Silky’s snide comments and Vanessa’s grunting laugh. She’d missed the way that Brooke and Akeria both clapped when they got excited. And the way Yvie tried to act all cool and hard in front of Scarlet but ended off turning into a soppy puppy everything she smiled anyway.

It was safe to say she was grateful to Brooke for organising their meal and catch-up. Not only was Nina getting to see the friends she had missed so much but she was also being distracted from refreshing her phone every five minutes, constantly disappointed when waiting to see if a certain someone had changed their mind and added her on Snapchat.

“Well, I’m excited to try something new!” Nina smiled at her friend, pretending not to be extremely anxious at the fact she couldn’t find a menu online so didn’t already know what she was going to order.

In fact, she still didn’t know what to order thirty minutes later once Scarlet had finally arrived, a round of drinks having already been devoured by the group, the range in the menu making her foot dance nervously on the floor below them.

“You guys ready to order your food?”

Nina didn’t dare turn around, the discernable voice ringing behind her.

The voice she’d let whisper sweet nothing in her ears less than twenty-four hours earlier.

The voice she thought she would never hear again.

She looked aside to Brooke, a devilish grin on her face, clearly proud of her work as Fairy Godmother.

Nina wasn’t so proud.

Her leg began to shake more, placing her own hand on it to try and calm down.

She didn’t do hookups, they weren’t the norm for her. She wasn’t used to just kissing someone in a club, giving them every part of her and more than acting like it was nothing afterwards. She didn’t understand how people just threw themselves all in and then decided it was nothing. There Monet was, most likely thinking that the whole thing meant nothing when it was filling the entirety of Nina’s brain. She was drowning in it.

It was like watching a gruesome video, Nina knew it would only end in tears on her behalf but couldn’t help but take a peek.

Only Monet looked anything but gruesome. Her hair slicked back into a ponytail, her face fresh, the end of the pen meeting her mouth as she took a break from writing.

Never in her life had Nina felt any inclination to be an artist yet suddenly she wanted to paint a portrait of the girl right there, her apron slightly stained and her hand showing the remnants of a stamp that hadn’t quite washed away.

Her hand that Nina had written on.

If Nina was drowning then Monet was on fire.

“What about you, Cinderella?”

It took Nina a moment along with an elbow from her right to realise Monet was speaking to her, just gawking at her like a kid in a sweet shop (Monet was probably a sherbet lemon, bright and fizzy right next to the till. She was more of a chocolate mouse, hiding on a shelf lower down).

‘Just ask what she recommends,’ Nina thought to herself, only the words never came out, her mouth opening and closing like a puppet she couldn’t control.

Brooke went to speak for her but Monet was too fast, a superhero reading Nina’s mind and saving her from the burning building. “My favourite is the jerk chicken, with lots of gravy.”

“Perfect.” She managed half a smile, wishing Monet would speak for her more often. Wishing she’d speak for everyone in the world with her voice so lovely.

Nina felt Monet’s hand leave her shoulder as she walked away.

She hadn’t even felt her place it.

“Well, isn’t that a weird coincidence.” Yvie sipped from her straw and looked up at Nina despite the utter lack of liquid left in her glass.

“Seriously? I told you I wanted to forget it.“ She turned to face Brooke, giving the best attempt at whisper-shouting as she could.

“I know, I’m sorry, but if I told you you wouldn’t have come. You’ve fancied her for so long I wasn’t gonna let you just let it go.”

“Did you ever think that I can make my own decisions, Brooke? You don’t have to dictate my life all the time. I look like such a freak now!”

“Hey,” Vanessa chirped in from the other side of the table. “Nina, she was just trying to help. I saw this thing on Twitter—”

“Scarlet, do you like Lebanese food?” Nina shouted over, interrupting Vanessa’s plea.

“Oh of course,” the girl responded, clearly unaware of the tension in the air. “My family visited the Zahriyeh beach resort last year and the food was to die for!”

“I’m going to the loo.” Nina stood up abruptly, almost knocking her chair over in the process. “Please don’t follow me.”

Making her way into the bathroom, Nina stared at herself in the mirror.

She knew her friends only wanted what was best for her, that she shouldn’t have snapped at Brooke. She just kept reliving her awkward conversation, kept thinking about the add that never came through her phone and wished they would have left it be.

It was okay for Brooke, who had Vanessa and everyone else in their old sixth form falling around her. Or Yvie who had the quickest wit, unapologetically herself every minute of every day. They were the type of girls who people fawned over, who girls like Monet wanted to speak to. Not Nina West who couldn’t say the word “chicken” without having an aneurysm.

Trying her hardest not to cry, she almost jumped out of her skin when the door opened, expecting an apologetic Brooke with her puppy dog eyes to walk through.

How wrong she was.

“Oh, sorry.” Nina looked around and made her way towards the door.

“For using the bathroom?” Monet smiled at her, Nina left unable to think of a response other than the word sorry again. “About the other night—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nina blurted, the fear of rejection injected into her bloodstream. She couldn’t bring herself to hear it, to hear Monet tell her that it was nothing or spurt some lie about losing her username. So she decided she’d do it herself, trying her very hardest to seem nonchalant. “We were both drunk, it was stupid.”

“Yeah.” Monet looked down at the floor. “No biggie.”

Nina missed her smile already.

Breaking a silence that felt like a lifetime, Nina released a breath. “I better go. Wouldn’t want to miss my jerk chicken.”

“Couldn’t have that.” She heard Monet’s voice tail off as she made her way back to the table, reliving their conversation for the entire meal - her mind lost in an alternate universe where the night before was the start of a new journey, rather than the remnants of one that never took flight.

Nina realised then how easier things were as the sidekick.

The sidekick never had their heart broken.

***

Monet was ready to take everything she had previously thought about fate and throw it out of the window when she realised the mystery girl from the night before was sitting in the restaurant, sipping happily on a strawberry daiquiri.

Monet had never wanted to physically be a cocktail before in her life but that didn’t stop her from wishing it at that moment.

Asking their head waiter to give her the order instead, she counted down the seconds until their last friend arrived and she could go ask what food they wanted, slipping into her natural confidence and flirtiness, ready to have a daylight conversation with the girl from her late-night memories.

She was nervous again, awkward. Monet wanted to tell her to breathe and shake it off, settling instead for placing a hand on her shoulder whilst she decided what to order.

Normally when asked for suggestions, Monet told the customer whatever was easiest to make, or whatever was going to waste, never her real suggestion.

She gave it this time without prompt.

It was probably wrong to follow her into the bathroom but a part of her just couldn’t handle the anxious look on her face and wanted to tell her everything was okay.

Monet was never one to shy away for what she wanted, overly-excited that she had found the one that got away, thinking of how much the girl would laugh when she told her about her night, how she lost her username thanks to her stupid best friend’s gymnastics related delusions of grandeur.

Only she never got the chance.

“Don’t worry about it. We were both drunk, it was stupid.”

Monet knew she shouldn’t have been upset, it was the type of thing she’d said to many girls before herself. But a small part of her just wanted to crawl up in a ball and cry thinking of how wrong she’d been, of how badly she’d read their moment of passion.

Monique was right. She couldn’t wait to hear her ‘I told you so.’ Monet guessed things hadn’t changed at all, those few words throwing her back in the cycle she was in before. Maybe fate was a part of it after all, maybe this was simply the role she was dealt, no arguments, no compromises.

“Enjoying the shift?” Bob called on her way out, grabbing some tofu from the bench and shoving it in her mouth.

“Something like that,” Monet sighed, checking the clock to see how much longer she would be hiding in the back kitchen until she was free.

“Not like you to be in a mood.” Her sister looked her up and down, clearly sensing a change in disposition from her usually annoyingly vibrant personality. “You better put a smile on cause I know those girls out there, I reckon they’ll tip you if you’re nice. They went to sixth form, used to host a lot of house parties.”

Monet was taken back for a second, laughing to herself at the thought that the girl she’d spent all day trying to find not only went to her old school but also knew her sister. She was starting to wish she’d looked beyond the three pillars of her best friends at sixth form and branched out that tad more, maybe things would be a lot different.

“Do you know the blonde one?”

“Brooke Lynn?” Bob asked.

Monet didn’t know how, but she knew that wasn’t right.

“No the other one. With the dumb smile.”

“Oh.” Bob realised. “Nina West. She was always real sweet, looking after her friends and cleaning up everywhere at parties. Awful fashion sense though, good god!”

Nina.

She could have said it again and again until it no longer felt like a name.

“Well, I’ll see you later.” Bob snapped her out of her daydream. “You out again tonight?”

“Nah,” she sighed. “Monday.”

All Monet wanted to do was get drunk and forget all about Nina and Monique and the thoughts in her head, desperate for the next forty-eight hours to whizz past her like lightning.

Only that didn’t really happen, Monet instead spending the entire time holed up in her room, letting the hours drag by until it was time to hit the club with her friends.

She wrongly thought that with every drink the name would slip out of her mind that little bit more, only it slapped her across the face every time she swallowed instead.

Maybe it was because she’d made the mistake of searching her.

She wasn’t hard to find once Monet knew her name, coming up immediately with twenty-seven mutual friends. Scrolling through picture after picture of the girl laughing with her friends, something pained Monet in knowing she could no longer send a request. That her feelings were unreciprocated. She’d told the girl that their hookup was “no biggie” but there she was thinking about the photo she’d seen of her standing on the bridge in town and how she wished she could hold her waist while she stood there.

Monet had a strong love-hate relationship with the internet.

One more shot and there she was again.

Nina West, as vivid as a photograph in her mind, her foot tapping against the floor, her eyes a scene of bewilderment.

She danced to a song she knew and then again to the next until they were all blurring into one and she couldn’t figure out what the words were anymore.

Another shot.

She could see Nina leaving some coins on the table before she left the restaurant, her body something that could inspire poetry.

Just one more wouldn’t hurt.

“You wanna go for a walk?” She heard Monique whisper in her ear, snapping her back to the reality her brain was running from.

She didn’t have to say yes.

The breeze was bitter against Monet’s face as they left the club; Monique wrapped a jacket around her body for warmth.

“What about the others?” She turned back and stopped, feeling her friend’s arm link into her own despite it being her only mobile one.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about them.”

They walked for a while before stopping at a spot by the river, the moon glistening in the water.

Monet watched it flow in silence.

Normally she’d have been scared by the rustling in the trees or the darkness of the night’s sky but those fears were lost in the moment.

“Are you really this upset about a girl you’ve known for a few days?” Monique’s eyes shone in the dark, pools of chocolate around her pupils. They kept Monet grounded. “She’s not even that pretty.”

Monet thought she couldn’t have been more wrong if she tried.

“You don’t get it.”

“But I really want to.”

“It felt different, Monique. I never feel like that, I never get like this. It’s fucked me up. I’ve only ever thought anything like that about…” Monet stopped to swallow, deciding she shouldn’t carry her sentence on anyway.

“About me?” Monique whispered, holding her hand out to her friend, her glittery nails scraping the surface of the other girl’s skin.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me.” Monet pushed her hand away. “I don’t know, I just thought this was something telling me that things were gonna change. I was wrong, too confident. Like the sponge dress, remember.”

“They still can change,” Monique responded.

Her hand moved to the back of Monet’s head, falling down her hair.

She was hesitant at first, moving towards her friend, slow and steady.

Monet’s breath hitched just before their lips touched.

And then everything started to blur.

Lost in the moment, Monet felt Monique’s free arm move down her back, her own hands gripping tightly onto the hem of her top.

It was happening. She’d reached the pot of gold at the end of her rainbow.

Only the coins weren’t shining as brightly as they did in the fairy tales.

This is what she’d imagined for years, what she fell asleep thinking about.

So why did it feel so wrong?

Every movement flashed by in a second; Monet wasn’t feeling them.

She wasn’t feeling anything.

Then the image of highly arched eyebrows and dusty blue eyes made their way into her head.

Monet didn’t have to say it, feeling her friend pull away in the darkness.

“She’s got you bad, hasn’t she.”

“I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.” Monet ignored what she said about Nina. Their friendship was more important. “I know that you wanted to do that because you thought it’s what I wanted. And I did, by the way, think I wanted it. But I don’t. And even if I did, I don’t need you to make me feel better that way. I just need you to be my best friend.”

“I am,” Monique responded, her voice fighting against a brittle sound. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I’m always happy.” Monet smiled. It was weird how things seemed to make more sense rather than less when she was drunk. “I don’t need a girl. Granted, it’d be a nice bonus, but it doesn’t matter if I’ve got my best friends.”

Monique hugged her like she only had seconds to live.

Yes, Monet wanted Nina. She wanted her more badly than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

But she needed her friends.

“Let’s get you home and never speak of this again, then.” Monique smiled, holding out her hand yet again.

“Agreed.” Monet clasped it around her own, her balance still off-kilter from all the drinking.

At least she didn’t have any shifts to cover the next day.

“Except when you admitted you were wrong about your sponge dress.” Monique grinned. “That, I will never let go.”

***

Nina had just about managed to ignore Brooke and Yvie’s texts about their meal turned ambush. Of course, it was difficult, she’d even written some stuff in her notes that she wanted to chat to them about once she wasn’t mad, having started typing to Yvie about a question on Pointless before remembering she was supposed to be shunning her.

Except Brooke knew her weakness.

Nina could never hold her poker face against a smirking Vanessa Mateo.

“You’re here before me.” Nina stood in awe at Vanessa, a half-drunken hot chocolate and a plate of cookies in front of her.

When they went to Dublin for a long weekend before everyone moved away, Vanessa had slept through her alarm and nearly missed the flight, spending the entire trip borrowing belongings she’d forgotten from the rest of the girls.

She’d be late to her own funeral.

“Of course I am. Didn’t want to miss out on any of my quality Nina West time.” She grinned and pushed the plate across the table, motioning for Nina to take a seat.

Nina loved how easy things always were with Vanessa, finding admiration in the way she never complexified her emotions.

It seemed odd at first when Brooke fell for her. She remembered being told about the night they met, going into every detail about how intense and annoying Vanessa had been as they searched for her phone. It always made Nina chuckle remembering how casually Brooke had added “and then I kissed her” to the end of her thirty-minute rant about the girl.

She’d always pictured Brooke with someone who shared some of her qualities, a little cynical, a little stubborn, surprised that she’d date someone so full of energy. But the first time she saw them together she knew that Vanessa was her perfect complement.

It just made sense.

“So, are you gonna tell me why Brooke Lynn really sent you here?” Nina asked after twenty minutes of Vanessa’s intricate questions about her degree.

“She didn’t ask me.” Vanessa held her hands up and pouted her lip. “I know why you’re mad, we shouldn’t have meddled. I just thought I’d show you this.”

Nina didn’t know what she expected to see on Vanessa’s phone but it certainly wasn’t a tweet from Monet, dated the day of the meal.

“This is an urgent PSA: To the girl with the pretty eyes and sparkly jumpsuit I got with last night, I’m sorry I lost your snap. Hit me up so I can buy you another vodka Red Bull and put your dancing to test again x.”

Nina was glad Vanessa was there to pick her jaw off the floor and attach it back to her face for her.

“I saw it that day and showed Brooke. I honestly thought it was the right thing to do.” Vanessa held a hand out to her, warm and honest.

“No, no. It was.” Nina read the tweet for what might have been the fiftieth time since she’d seen it. If she wasn’t so shocked she probably would have signed herself up for the Guinness World Record for fastest reading. “I fucked it.”

“You can always pop up now?” Vanessa suggested.

“I can’t. I was so rude Vanjie, I read it all wrong.”

“So make it right.”

Nina grabbed her own phone for a second before placing it back on the table. “If I was her I’d ignore me.”

Maybe the fairy tales just happened to the princesses because they took chances, they didn’t let fear get in the way. They never told the prince that their feelings were nothing, a mistake. They were unashamed of how they felt and never afraid that it wasn’t returned.

Maybe that’s why Nina had always been the sidekick.

“Well, you don’t know you well enough then ‘cause the Nina I know wouldn’t ignore someone.”

She hated when Vanessa was right.

“Either way, I should probably go talk to Brooke and Yvie. I feel so bad!”

“Don’t change the subject,” Vanessa caught her out. “I think they understand. Besides, those two are gonna be there for you to message and kiki with as much as you like for the rest of your life. Do you really wanna go back after Easter and let this girl forget about you?”

Maybe it was Vanessa who should go for some sort of world record instead. Nina would have put money on a successful career for her in motivational speaking.

Cinderella wouldn’t have even made it to the ball had the fairy godmother not given her a gown and slippers.

All that Nina needed was to borrow her friend’s confidence for a night.

“I guess a message wouldn’t hurt.” Nina pulled out her phone and opened her notes, ready to type.

“As long as it’s not seven pages long like the ones you help Brooke write to me!” Vanessa leaned over and squinted at the phone.

“You know I do that?”

“You might as well wax seal them with your initials, bitch. Sometimes I’d rather she just trusted herself though. Like I’d rather have her tell me ‘Vanjie, I’m a dick but I love you’ full stop than all that poetry bullshit. I don’t know why she thinks she needs to sound all like you.”

Nina chuckled to herself for a moment, thinking of all the times Brooke had handed her a written message to Vanessa and told her to make it “more meaningful.”

She’d always envied Brooke in many ways. But she never really stopped to think that Brooke might have just envied her too.

“Noted.”

A notification flashed on Nina’s screen, her fingers automatically pushing it away so she could carry on drafting her succinct message.

“Wait, who was that?” Vanjie tapped the screen with an acrylic.

Pulling down the notifications bar, Nina’s face scrunched for a moment as she processed what she saw, looking up and making eye contact with Vanessa when she read the message.

Maybe they’d have to call Brooke to pick both of their jaws up from the floor at that point.

***

“The trailers are gonna start in a minute! Where you at??? x” Monet sent her third passive-aggressive text to her friend in a row.

She cursed under her breath, figuring it would be her best friend to convince her to get dolled up to go see a movie and then be late. She’d even begged Monet to walk further to the hipster cinema where you rented a sofa instead of seats - Monet having the entire one to herself for the time being.

“They’re on for twenty mins anyways. Whereabouts you sitting so I don’t have to scramble in the dark? xoxoxo”

Hearing a tut from behind her, Monet replied quickly with her location before putting her phone back in the pocket.

Normally she’d feel weird about being at the cinema with just Monique, sharing a sofa together in the most classic of date settings. Only now she didn’t, something about their kiss wiping away her feelings, picking up that “what if” she’d always had and sending it away down the river they had laid by.

Maybe it would make their friendship that tad stronger.

Just not strong enough for Monet to deal with being abandoned in a cinema. That would need a lot of forgiveness and grovelling.

A glimmer of hope dazzled before her when she heard the door close, making out a figure coming her way before realising it wasn’t Monique.

At least she wouldn’t have to share her nachos.

“Sorry, this seat’s taken,” she called out as the girl made a beeline for her sofa.

“I know.”

Monet could make out the blue of her eyes in the dark room, the cream jumper she wore complementing them perfectly.

This time it was her struggling to find the words as Nina perched her body onto the sofa, her knees tight together, arms smoothing her skirt and hugging her knees.

“I saw your tweet,” she whispered, looking straight ahead at the screen rather than at Monet.

“I thought you thought it was nothing, you were just drunk.” Monet didn’t even try to pretend she was looking at the screen too.

Her heart was racing. Her entire body on fire.

“I spoke to your friend too, she told me you’d be here.”

“Oh.” The frames began to merge together in Monet’s mind.

“I was just nervous to say it before. But that feeling you had, I felt it too.”

Monet placed a hand on the girl’s knee, noticing how her foot was starting to bounce.

She never wanted to take it away.

“I-” Monet started her sentencing only to be shushed from behind.

“We have to be quiet,” Nina whispered.

Monet moved towards her, their lips centimetres apart.

She looked at Nina and could have sworn she saw the flame that was burning in her chest in the girl’s eyes too, lighting up the darkness around them.

“Well, let’s stop talking then.”

#rpdr fanfiction #nina west #monet x change #monique heart #ninex #background momo #background branjie #lesbian au #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #ashley #tw anxiety #concrit welcome #diversity fic #got my number

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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To New Hytes, 9/? (Group-fic) - Mac

AN: Hi, hello, how are ya? Sorry, it took so long to update, and thank you for sticking with me. Meggie is an angel for helping me out with this chapter, and an angel in general, but you already knew that.

Summary: Kameron gets a new costume, Nina and Monet talk, Scarlet and Yvie don’t, and Trixie reads Katya’s weird autobiography.

Blair found Kameron lounging on the couch in Brooke and Nina’s office. Nina and Monet were bickering over something or another, but then a moment later smiling at each other like idiots. Nina’s face was perpetually red and Monet’s smugness could be felt from miles away.

“Knock knock.” Blair spoke softly even though she had been standing in the doorway for a few seconds at this point. The three women looked up at the sound and Kameron adorably sat up straighter. “Can I borrow Kameron for a sec?”

Nina and Monet shared a knowing smile. “I’ll do you one better, you can keep her,” Monet said.

Kameron rolled her eyes at Monet, but flashed Blair a sweet smile.

The two girls exited the office and barely made it three steps before Nina and Monet burst into giggles and none-too-quiet gossip.

“Sorry ‘bout them.”

Blair waved her hand dismissively and waited until the two of them came to the bottom of the stairs, just out of earshot from the office before grabbing Kameron’s hands in hers.

They took a moment.

“Hey,” Blair spoke softly.

“Hey,” Kameron said back.

“I missed you.”

“Yeah, where’d you run off to?”

Blair nodded her head, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you ‘bout.” She took a deep breath.. “I went to see Brianna.”

Kameron’s face went through a slideshow of emotions before finally settling on surprise. Her body went tense, but Blair shook her head reassuringly before Kameron’s mind could bombard her with worries.

“It ain’t what you think. I went to get closure.”

“Oh.” Kameron looked relieved.

Blair tightened her grip on Kameron’s hands and stepped even closer to the older woman. “Kameron, honey, I like you.”

Kameron sighed, “Blair, I already told you—”

“Let me talk.” Blair cut her off. “Just because I don’t talk right don’t mean I’m stupid.”

“I know—”

Blair held up a finger to halt her.

“I knew I liked you. I knew for a while now. I wanted to do somethin’ for you, show you. You’re good at readin’ people, but I think you missed somethin’ kinda important.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m crazy ‘bout you.” Blair looked up at Kameron from under her eyelashes. “I wanted to make you somethin’, show you that I got feelins’ too. Follow me.”

Kameron let herself be led by the hand through the backstage of their home theatre. She had a distinct feeling of deja vu as they passed the familiar metal framework and speakers and equipment that lined their path. It felt like only yesterday they had made this same trek to Blair’s office. Not much had changed over the past months, only now their fingers were interlocked, and Kameron wasn’t afraid of the cocktail of affection blooming in her chest at the gesture.

So maybe a few things had changed.

They stopped just outside the door, and Blair turned to Kameron expectantly. “You trust me, yeah?”

Kameron’s face softened. “Of course, angel.”

“Close your eyes.”

Kameron did as she was told and didn’t try to fight the smile on her face.

The door creaked open and the two shuffled inside a bit, then came to another stop. Blair’s warm presence was suddenly lost at her side, but Kameron wasn’t worried.

“‘Kay, you can open ‘em.”

Kameron blinked open her eyes and was met with the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

Draped elegantly over a mannequin was the dress from Blair’s drawing. It had come to life.

Kameron stared at it for a few moments before reaching out a hand to touch it. The fabric was so soft in her hands she thought it might disintegrate from her mere touch. The blue was even more brilliant in person, and just the perfect shade. Kameron let her hands roam over the garment, appreciating each and every stitch.

Blair was standing to the side of the display, biting her lip nervously.

“It’s beautiful,” Kameron finally whispered, scared if she spoke too loudly she would ruin the moment.

Blair finally looked up to meet Kameron’s eyes. “It’s fittin’ for you then.”

“Blair, I—”

Blair cut her off, scared if she didn’t fill the silence with something it would swallow her. “And the only reason I had drawn you in that notebook was ‘cause I already filled up another one with just designs for you.”

Blair took Kameron’s hands in hers again as the former senior stage crew member wracked her brain for words.

“Blair—”

“You don’t gotta say nothin,” Blair cut her off again.

Kameron’s hands lifted out of Blair’s to trace the curve of the young costume designer’s face, and the two exhaled together. The tension that always lingered in the air when they were together hung peacefully above their heads. It wasn’t pressing or all-consuming anymore.

It was comfortable now that it knew it had an end.

Kameron pulled Blair in and finally, finally their lips met. There weren’t fireworks or explosions in the distance, but there was heat. There was passion and joy and all that built up sadness. It all coalesced into something measured and practiced and oh so very slow. If Blair were with anyone else she would have lamented how leisurely it felt. But she was with Kameron, and Kameron wasn’t going anywhere. They had all the time in the world.

After a few moments Kameron had to pull away, the weight of what they were doing suddenly hit her, and she couldn’t keep from smiling.

“What?” Blair asked, lips reddened, color high on her cheeks, a brilliant smile on her face.

“Nothing.” Kameon laughed to herself. “I just, I thought you didn’t date dancers.”

Blair’s smile somehow got even brighter, practically lighting up the whole room, “I thought you weren’t a dancer.”

…

Monet woke up to the sound of typing.

Correction. Monet woke up to the sound of typing and whispered curses.

She made her way slowly, sleepily, into Nina’s living room. The older woman’s face was illuminated by clear blue light. She looked beautiful, if not a bit frazzled. The mountain of papers strewn haphazardly about her couch added to the frustration no doubt.

“Hey,” Monet whispered in greeting.

Nina looked up, surprised. “Oh, hi. Sorry, I was talking to B earlier and I thought since I was already up, I could start working on this—”

“Neens, it’s four a.m.”

“I know,” Nina sighed. “Brooke is just dealing with a lot and-”

Monet cut her off. “You know you don’t have to care for everyone all the time, honey.”

“Who else is gonna do it?”

“Their damn mamas.”

Nina smiled a bit, but still seemed hesitant to leave her work cocoon. Monet came over to sit beside her, careful to not disturb the papers. She took Nina’s hands off the keyboard and held them in her own, noting that Nina winced initially. “Tell Brooke to can it for now and come back to bed.” She spoke softly.

Nina’ averted her gaze and looked back to the computer, “I’ve got to finish this poster for the—”

“Ehn. Wrong answer,” Monet cut her off.

“But I—”

“Ehn.”

“‘Net—”

“EHN.”

Nina sighed, “Seriously, I—”

“ENH,” Monet interrupted a fourth time. “You really aren’t getting this are you?”

Nina sighed and Monet took pity on her. She pulled Nina into a standing position and walked her over to the big glass windows that overlooked the city. She wrapped her arms around Nina’s waist and rested her head lightly on the older woman’s shoulder. Monet noted again how Nina tensed up at the contact. She could sense something was up with the older woman. After their numerous years of friendship it was like a sixth sense at this point.

“Look out there.” Monet motioned to the glimmering city below.

“What am I looking at?” Nina asked.

Monet pointed to something far off in the black distance that Nina couldn’t make out. “You see that.”

“No, what?”

“It’s dark outside.”

“Yeah?” Nina said confusedly.

“So that means it’s sleep time,” Monet said deadpan.

Nina rolled her eyes and turned around in Monet’s arms. Now Monet knew there was definitely something more going on because Nina was as stiff as a wood plank in her grasp.

“Okay, what’s really wrong?”

“Nothing!” Nina tried and failed to say believably.

Monet sighed. “What happened to talkin’ to each other about things?”

Nina averted her eyes and let out a breath. “I just… It’s weird isn’t it? Do you find it weird?”

“Do I find what weird?” Monet spoke slowly and clearly; she didn’t want another misunderstanding.

“This,” Nina motioned to their intertwined bodies. “Touching like this, kissing, being… together, like, for real together.”

Monet must have looked confused and a little hurt because Nina launched into one of her rambly explanations.

“Not bad weird! Just strange.” Nina shook her head at herself. “Not strange, just different. Like not bad different or weird, just unusual.”

Monet tried to wrap her brain around what Nina was saying, “How is it strange?”

“It’s just…” Nina took a breath in. “I imagined getting together, being with you so many times. And I had pictured all the grand romantic gestures… but I just… I just never thought about the little things. Like the cuddling or the hand holding or-or any of it really.”

Monet smiled in spite of herself. She knew it, objectively she knew Nina had, but it was still nice to hear that Nina had imagined them together so many times. Lord knows Monet had done the same.

Nina noticed her expression and relaxed a bit in Monet’s arms. “Before, I had to stop myself eleven times a day from leaning over and kissing you or doing something else embarrassing and so I think my brain just hardwired itself to stop those actions. So I think I’m still just getting used to the fact that I can.”

“That’s…” Monet searched for the right words for a moment, “really sweet.”

Nina chuckled. “Really? Because it sounds crazy to me.”

Monet just smiled wider. “I think I imagined us so much that this,” Monet motioned to where her hands perfectly fit to Nina’s hips, like they were always meant to, “just feels like a really good dream. Like the kinda of dream I never wanna wake up from.”

“See, that was sweet!”

Monet threw her head back in a laugh and Nina followed right along with her.

When their laughter died down, Monet raised a hand to cup Nina’s cheek. The smile on the older woman’s face lit up Monet’s insides.

“So do you not want me to do this?” She asked Nina seriously. “Because we can take it slower if you want.”

Nina grabbed Monet’s hand and placed it firmly on her hips. “We’ve been taking it slow for nearly four years. If we take it any slower I think I will actually combust.”

Monet chuckled.

“Just-just don’t get upset if it takes me a second to warm up, okay?” Nina spoke softly.

Monet shook her head. “You won’t upset me, baby.”

…

Yvie had been pacing around the backstage of whatever theatre they were in this week when she heard it. Hushed whispers being passed back and forth as two figures made their way to the main stage. Yvie, ever the nosy one, strained her ear to pick up on the conversation.

“–why you’re worrying so much.”

“She’s getting suspicious. I can tell.”

Yvie immediately recognized the second voice as Scarlet’s. Her stomach turned unpleasantly at her girlfriend’s worried tone.

“She’s been asking me so many questions recently,” Scarlet sighed. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

Yvie noticed the voices getting closer and closer to where she was standing. She ducked behind a speaker and slunk down low in the shadows, ignoring the ache in her joints at the sudden movement.

“Scarlet, you’ve been wanting to do this for a while now. She’s gonna understand. It’s what’s best for both of you. For your relationship,” the other voice reassured calmly.

Scarlet sighed again. “I’m just scared.”

“Whatever her reaction is, you’ll be okay. I’ll be here for you whatever happens.”

Yvie could hear Scarlet’s slight smile in her words. “Thanks, Dela.”

Yvie was so preoccupied with her own racing thoughts that she hardly heard the footsteps receding.

Yvie had known something was off. Had known it for months now and still she had been foolish enough to think they could get through it. They had weathered so many storms by now.

Getting together in the first place had been a challenge.

Scarlet was slow to warm up. Even slower to commit. And even when she had, Scarlet hadn’t been happy. She liked freedom. Yvie did too. The only difference was that Yvie knew that two arms wrapping securely around you at night weren’t a cage. That caring and being cared for didn’t strip you of your independence.

That love, in all its painful glory, really wasn’t all that difficult.

It had taken a lot of time. Had Yvie not believed with every ounce of her being that Scarlet was the one, she would have given up.

But she did, so she hadn’t.

Yvie stayed and braved each storm as it came, ducking for shelter when she needed to, and coming up for air. Eventually, Scarlet did the same.

Scarlet opened up one night. There was no outward prompt, no push, nothing made her take the leap, she just did. She opened up about her past. She still glossed over the grimy bits, the not-so-shiny moments that Yvie could see reflected in her eyes. But she opened up about how she felt, how she was feeling at the time.

But ever since she had been open, she was still hard to read at times. She still needed space a lot of the time, but she was happy. She was happy being someone’s someone. It wasn’t nearly as suffocating anymore.

Yvie felt the opposite now. She felt like there wasn’t enough air in the world that could fill her lungs.

She felt like the whole world was crumbling in her hands and she didn’t have the ability to stop it. To pause.

To figure out what the hell had gone so wrong that Scarlet needed out.

…

Ever since their last encounter, Trixie had held onto Katya’s weird autobiography manuscript thing like a precious heirloom.

She hadn’t read it yet. She told herself she was waiting for the right time. The only reason she knew it was an autobiography was because Katya kept texting to ask if she’d read it yet.

Trixie just couldn’t.

In truth, she had tried to read it the first night she got it. She had readied herself on the hotel couch, pried apart the wilting pages, and promptly shut the book again.

Something about it felt wrong. She felt out of place mining through Katya’s memories.

So it had been about a week and she still hadn’t read it. They were back on tour in some random city, and Violet was on her case about it one night, and they maybe had gone through the hotel’s mini bar and raided it for the best stuff, and they maybe were laying on the hotel floor when Trixie had accidentally kicked the book across the room to her horror.

She scrambled up on unstable legs to retrieve the manuscript in the far corner while Violet just cackled loudly.

Trixie picked it up. It felt somehow heavier than last time. She looked down at the worn and wilting pages and something in her, maybe the whiskey, told her that now was the right time.

“Will you read it to me?” she said before she could think too much about what she was asking.

Violet belched and thought for a moment. “But I don’t like her,” she said simply.

Trixie sighed. She knew. “I know, Vi, but I can’t read it.”

Violet gave her a hard look; well, as hard a look she could in her state of drunkenness, before nodding jerkily and making grabby hands at the book. Trixie handed it over and the two scooted up the bed so they were both leaning against the headboard.

Violet had less care for the book than Trixie and flipped the pages harshly, nearly tearing the dedication page. Trixie winced despite herself.

“‘Dedicated to the best damn tap dancer I ever met,’” Violet read out.

Trixie rolled her eyes and tried not to find it sweet. She failed.

Violet inhaled and then exhaled before turning to the first page, “Okay, ‘once upon a time—’”

“Vi,” Trixie said unamused.

“It really says that!” Violet insisted.

Trixie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, the fuck it doesn’t, give it here.” Trixie yanked the book over to her lap and sure enough.

Of course she fucking started it with that. Trixie thought. Like how all stories about princesses start.

Violet gave a self-satisfied smirk and curled herself into Trixie’s side. “Read to me.”

Trixie chuckled. “I thought you were supposed to read to me?”

“Can’t see. Too drunk.” Violet murmured, melding her body to Trixie’s side and resting her head on Trixie’s shoulder.

Trixie huffed indignantly, but bit back a smile.

She sighed at the page in front of her and tried to mentally ready herself. “‘Once upon a time, in a little-known town called Moscow—’”

“How the hell can I hear her sarcasm through a book?” Violet interjected.

Trixie ignored Violet and went back to reading. “A little girl was born to two loving parents. She grew up in a castle and had servants waiting on her hand and tiny, baby foot. Life was easy.”

“I thought she gave this to you to make you feel bad for her,” Violet murmured.

“She gave it to me because she’s an idiot, now shut up and let me read.”

Violet huffed against Trixie’s side, but mimed locking her mouth shut.

Trixie sighed. “‘Then, one dark and stormy night, like for real there was a storm and shit. Really scary. Don’t recommend. The news came that her older brother died.’”

“Oh fuck,” Violet whispered.

Trixie looked down at Violet, the younger girl’s eyes imploring for her reaction. “I didn’t know she had an older brother.”

It was clear she didn’t know a lot about Katya.

Trixie looked back down at the page, still stunned.

Trixie didn’t have siblings. Didn’t have much family left. The dance company had become like family in a way.

Violet.

Violet had become the closest thing she had to a sister. The thought of her dying made Trixie’s chest constrict and tears pricked at the edges of her eyes.

Violet must have sensed this, because her hand came to wrap around Trixie’s middle. Trixie’s hand rested lightly on Violet’s head, fingers tracing through her hair slowly as she continued to read.

“‘Things changed around the palace. The little princess had to start learning diplomacy and German rather than how far you could launch a rock into a stream (the answer was pretty fucking far). She had to grow up too fast. Seven tutors and ballet practice and music lessons and not a lot of childhood was left. But such was the way of the world. She was the future of her family. The future of a nation she had barely gotten to see.’”

Trixie could hear Katya’s voice so clearly in the words. She could hear her trying to joke through the pain, trying to brush aside the hurt that she still felt. Because that’s what it was. Hurt. It read so clean and clear on the page.

“Well that… kinda sucks,” Violet said quietly. “But I mean… that’s her job.”

Trixie shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Trixie read on. “‘It was too much of them to ask from such a young kid. She started acting out, skipping practices, coming to fancy dinners late, shirking her responsibilities.’”

“So being a kid?’

Trixie hummed. “‘And one day her family said enough was enough and they introduced her to a prince. A lovely fellow. Really he was. Kind and handsome, if you were into facial hair. Which she wasn’t really, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t marry a man she didn’t love just because he knew how to lead. So one night, she stole away into the nearest town and bought a ride out of her home city. She disappeared under the cover of darkness never to be seen again.’”

Violet was quiet for a moment, mulling over the sentences.

“So, basically, she ran away from her responsibilities because she didn’t feel like it? Cute. Really attractive quality to have in a partner, nice goin’, T.”

Violet was being harsh, defensive.

She was also right.

Trixie closed the book, her mind spinning out in her head, trying to keep up with all the new information.

Katya was a princess. She had done all the princess things you read about in fairytales. But she had also had a weird and rough childhood. She wasn’t free to make her own choices for most of her life.

Trixie knew the feeling.

But Katya also cared for her country. She never said it outright, but Trixie knew. In all the little details she gave to her stories, in all the secret smiles she hid poorly, in all the ways that she didn’t let show.

And Trixie cared for Katya greatly. Probably too much, all things considered.

Still.

Trixie wasn’t sure it would be enough to keep her.

18 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

To New Hytes (Group-fic) 8/? - Mac

AN: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to Meggie for helping me out so much with this chapter. She is genuinely an angel on this earth and I have no idea what I would do without her.

Thank you to you guys who have stuck with me while I took forever to update!

Summary: Kam joins the company, Vanessa gets to see Brooke’s apartment, Yvie questions Scarlet, and Trixie is totally and completely fine in every sense of the word.

“All right, everybody give a lovely warm welcome to Kameron, who will be officially joining us as an alternate for the remainder of the tour, and if she impresses me, we may be able to offer her a principal position.”

There was a healthy round of applause, and Kameron ducked her head a bit at the praise.

“We got two gorgeous blonde bitches now? The hell am I supposed to concentrate?” A’keria joked.

The rest of the group gave a laugh, and Brooke rolled her eyes fondly. “Somehow, I think you’ll survive, Davenport.”

“Only if you stop wearing those sweatpants to rehearsals, Miss Brooke.”

“Down, Kiki,” Vanessa cut in, shooting A’keria a warning look.

The air was suddenly tense, as A’keria held up her hands in surrender and mouthed a ‘sorry’ to her friend. The rest of the dancers shared knowing looks, causing Brooke’s stomach to turn. Amidst the whispers and giggles, Vanessa tried to catch Brooke’s attention, but the older woman wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Brooke clapped her hands together, jolting the dancers out of their stupor.

“Now, we need to re-block the group number and run it a few times to get Kam accustomed to it. I’ll turn the floor over to Alyssa for now, but I’m making notes.” The dancers straightened their backs. “Yes, that’s a threat.” Brooke tried to say jokingly to lighten the mood.

It didn’t seem to work.

Brooke sighed and motioned for the choreographer to step in. She then watched from the stage for a few minutes, calling out critiques here and there, but after a bit, Brooke spotted Nina in the audience and moved to a seat next to her friend.

They sat side by side in relative silence, Brooke occasionally shouting out a correction and Nina rifling through papers. They chatted here and there, mostly about business until Monet peeked her head out from backstage.

Signature camera around her neck, she strode onto the stage and tapped Alyssa lightly on the shoulder. They shared a few words before Alyssa nodded dismissively, the older woman clearly in the zone she always got when teaching. Monet only smiled as a reaction and began snapping pictures, careful to stay out of the way for the most part.

Brooke looked over to see Nina, paperwork abandoned, staring up at the photographer adoringly.

Brooke fake-gagged until Nina smacked her on the arm.

“God, you two are like a damn Hallmark movie.”

“Thank you.”

“You would take that as a compliment.”

Nina hit Brooke on the arm again.

“I’m right, and you know it.”

Nina rolled her eyes.

Brooke let her giggles die out before lightly interlacing her and Nina’s fingers and squeezing her hand. “No, but for real, I’m happy for you,” Brooke said. “For both of you.”

Nina smiled back at her. “I’m happy for me too.”

The two shared a soft smile before going back to their comfortable silence, but Brooke could tell something was eating at Nina the way she was biting the end of her pen.

Brooke sighed. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“It’s not nothing, it’s never nothing, so what is it?’

Nina relented. “So, Kam is on, and you’re taking a break, and-”

“Who told you that?”

“People talk.” Nina answered dismissively.

Brooke gave a dry laugh. “I didn’t know Kam had changed her name to People. Good to know.”

“Don’t be mad at her.”

Brooke sighed again. “I’m not mad, I just… I wanted to tell you in my own time.”

“So, you are leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m going home.” At Nina’s prolonged silence, Brooke tried to clarify. “Just for a few days. Promise.”

Nina was silent and wouldn’t meet Brooke’s eyes.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know. I just… I can’t be here. I just need some time.”

Nina nodded and let the silence between them build again.

Brooke could tell there was still more.

“What?”

Nina chewed her lip as she spoke. “Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell who?”

Nina gave her a deadpan look. “You know who.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Voldemort really cares where I am. Also, he isn’t real.”

Nina rolled her eyes.“Vanessa. Are you going to tell Vanessa?”

Brooke slouched a bit in her seat and started to pick at a loose thread in the upholstery, looking at anything other than Nina. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you’re sleeping with her.”

“Not anymore.” Brooke mumbled.

“Okay, what’s the time limit on anymore? Cause I’m pretty sure just cause you aren’t fucking her right this very second, doesn’t mean you aren’t sleeping with her anymore.”

Brooke looked up from where they were seated to the stage, her eyes immediately picking out Vanessa from the crowd. “It’s complicated.” She said to mostly to herself but also Nina.

Nina sighed. “Everything’s always complicated with you, isn’t it? You can’t ever just let things happen.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You say that like it’s clever.”

Brooke smiled. “Touche.”

…

Making her way slowly through the halls of their home theatre, Brooke let her mind wander. She was grateful for the week off they had coming up, and thanked the stars that her break from the company aligned just so that she could say the extra days were an extended vacation.

Brooke could get away with it. She deserved a break after all.

She tried to tell herself it was a good thing. She worked too much, everyone said so. She tried to tell herself it was good and healthy and not her running away as a defense mechanism.

Distance just put things into perspective.

Yes. That was it. Perspective.

Brooke was so caught up in her head she nearly missed Vanessa’s sudden presence in front of her.

The younger girl didn’t say anything, just pulled Brooke into a bruising kiss and before either of them could think, they were in the back of an Uber.

Brooke tried to wrap her head around the last few steps that lead them to where they were now, but the movement of Vanessa rubbing her thighs together and bouncing her leg up and down beside her was thoroughly distracting.

Brooke placed her hand firmly on the younger girl’s leg. “Stop, you’re shaking the whole car.”

Vanessa stopped… for all of about three seconds.

“‘Nessa!”

This time, as soon as Brooke removed her hand, Vanessa made eye contact and started bouncing her leg again.

It was a challenge, as was everything Vanessa did.

Brooke rolled her eyes but didn’t bite this time. She let Vanessa go on rocking the car, not even turning her head in the younger girl’s direction.

The movement suddenly stopped, and Brooke smirked triumphantly… until she heard breathy noises coming from the opposite end of the car.

Vanessa had her eyes closed her head thrown back and and was rubbing herself through her jeans, her breath hitching on every pass of her hand.

All coherent thoughts left Brooke’s head and she had to hold herself back from gasping.

She was acutely aware of their driver glancing back at the pair of them, and Brooke felt a flare of jealousy at the thought of someone else seeing Vanessa get off like this. But she couldn’t think too much about that now because Vanessa was only getting louder and more brazen with her display.

Brooke leaned over, pulled Vanessa in by her hair, and growled in the younger girl’s ear, “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“You love it,” Vanessa spoke breathlessly.

Brooke didn’t respond, but firmly placed her hand over Vanessa’s and started to guide its motions as she whispered filthily into her ear, “Such a little slut, getting off in the back of an Uber.”

“What does that make you then?”

Brooke rolled her eyes, “You’re such a brat.”

Vanessa’s next comeback was replaced with a breathy moan, that Brooke quickly had to cover with an awkwardly loud cough.

Thankfully their driver was pointedly ignoring them by this point.

Brooke shot a warning glance at Vanessa who only smirked in response. She opened her mouth, mischief in her eyes, presumably to make another sinful sound, when without thinking, Brooke placed two of her fingers in Vanessa’s mouth, effectively shutting her up. This was clearly not what the younger girl had expected, but she wasn’t one to give in so easily. Vanessa ran her tongue up and down the two fingers, swirling her tongue around the digits and whimpering wantonly. All the while continuing to rub herself on her and Brooke’s joined hands.

“Quit it or I’ll spank you.”

Vanessa stilled immediately and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Brooke retracted her fingers quickly and grabbed onto Vanessa’s hand. She worried for a moment that she pushed too far, but when she met Vanessa’s eyes, the pupils were blown so wide from arousal she could barely make out the brown around them.

“Oh, you like that, huh?”

Vanessa could only nod jerkily.

Brooke had to lean back a bit, the proximity to Vanessa was making her mind feel all melty. More so than usual.

“God, you’re a dream,” Brooke’s mouth spoke before she could think.

Vanessa had only just processed the phrase when the car came to a stop.

Brooke shuffled Vanessa out of the car and sent her inside before turning around to meet the unreadable expression on their driver’s face.

Brooke should be embarrassed, but with the knowledge that Vanessa was waiting for her, probably rubbing her thighs together and getting herself even more worked up, Brooke couldn’t care less.

“If there are any stains-”

“Bill me.”

She turned on her heel and walked into the complex.

They managed to make it up to Brooke’s place only stopping to make out aggressively twice against walls of the elevator and hallway respectively.

Only as Brooke turned the key and Vanessa rushed into the apartment ahead of her did she have pause.

Brooke hadn’t brought a girl home in years, opting instead for the other girl’s place each time. Her apartment felt too personal. It was easier to keep people at a distance if they couldn’t see your family photos on the walls.

So when Vanessa stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the living room, eyes scanning her surroundings, the growing dread in Brooke’s stomach nearly took over her.

But a moment later, Vanessa turned away from the modest living space to meet Brooke’s eyes.

“This place is beautiful,” Vanessa said softly, her eyes even softer, as if she knew this was weird for Brooke. As if she knew what Brooke was thinking.

Brooke laughed looking down at her feet. “It’s messy as hell. Thanks for lying though.”

Vanessa smiled softly and continued to look around. “It’s very…” She trailed off.

“Very what?”

“Homelike. Homey. Like it feels like somebody lives here. It ain’t the weirdly clean depressin’ place I thought it’d be.”

“Uhhh, thanks I guess?” Brooke laughed a bit, trying to let herself relax. This was her own damn home after all.

“It’s beautiful, Brooke.” Vanessa’s soft eyes and voice were back again, and Brooke felt something akin to panic rise in her chest. All thoughts of relaxing were promptly thrown out the window.

It was too much. The softness and the tenderness of her voice and the words. It felt like too much. It felt like Brooke couldn’t breathe. She was choking on her own feelings.

“Not as beautiful as you though,” Vanessa added.

Brooke had to turn away, had to shield her eyes from the sight before her. She couldn’t shut her ears for fear of looking like a crazy person, but she could at least shield her eyes from the vision of beauty standing in her living room, looking to all the world like she belonged there.

Brooke mumbled something under her breath that very much could have been a thank you or it could have not been, regardless it must not have been the reaction Vanessa had expected.

She stepped closer, closing the gap between them before speaking again. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Brooke asked innocently, subtly trying to put space between herself and Vanessa.

“What you just did when I said you was pretty.” Vanessa was analyzing her face now, and Brooke felt it heat up under the scrutiny.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you- are you embarrassed?” Vanessa asked incredulously.

“What? No!”

“The great Miss Brooke Lynn Hytes embarrassed by a compliment?”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Vanessa suddenly got a smirk on her face. “What happens if I call you talented?”

“‘Nessa.” Brooke started to back away from her now, feelings building up in her gut telling her to run and run and never look back but also begging her to stay and see this through.

“What about brilliant?” Vanessa asked walking closer, trying to close the distance between them.

“Vanessa-” Brooke kept moving, couldn’t get far enough away. She just needed to get out of earshot. That would stop all this- all this- all this noise in her head.

“What about gorgeous?”

“Or selfless?”

“Hotter than hell?”

Vanessa was saying it all playfully, genuinely thinking Brooke was embarrassed, but the closer she got, the longer she kept it up, the less sure she seemed.

“You’re amazing.”

Brooke stepped back.

“Lovely.”

Vanessa stepped forward.

“Breathtaking.”

Brooke stepped back.

“Caring.”

Vanessa stepped forward.

“Kind-hearted.”

Brooke couldn’t back up any more.

She was pressed against the front door, looking around wildly like a trapped animal. Vanessa was right in front of her now, and though Brooke towered above her, Vanessa held all the power.

And she did what Vanessa always did, she pushed.

“Brooke?”

“What, ‘Nessa?”

Vanessa gently ran a hand along Brooke’s jaw, angling it down so the two could breathe in each other’s air.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Don’t-”

“Let me show you.”

Suddenly, everything in Brooke’s mind went blissfully silent.

And she found her head nodding before she could stop herself.

…

Yvie was sat, well, was laid across their tiny couch in their tiny apartment. She was flipping through channels on the TV, looking blankly at the contraption. Her mind was spinning, and nothing seemed to be able to stop it.

Time off was always hard for Yvie, it was even harder for Scarlet. The two were work-driven, type-A perfectionist control freaks. They didn’t do breaks.

The first few days off were lovely, they slept a collective fifteen hours straight and only got out of bed to pick up their delivery food. But after that, they both started to get tense.

No one seemed to get it when Yvie tried to explain.

She just needed to have something to do, something fixed and constructive. When she was younger, she’d pick up part-time jobs left and right during school breaks. Never letting herself go more than a few days without something to keep her occupied.

Scarlet got it, though. She would even say Scarlet had less of a tolerance for relaxation than Yvie herself did.

“I feel like my brain starts to stagnate. I don’t feel challenged or inspired, and it makes me crazy,” Scarlet had said.

Yvie’s mind was still spinning, laying out fragments, and painting pictures behind her eyes. Her leg had started to bounce a bit from her position on the couch.

As if on cue, Scarlet called to her from the kitchen.

“Yves, come help me make dinner.”

Yvie smiled in spite of herself.

It was nice to be understood.

Yvie pulled Scarlet into a quick hug and kept her arms wrapped around Scarlet’s waist while the other girl asked softly, “You wanna make pasta or soup?”

“Why not both?” Yvie said, only half-joking.

Scarlet gave a small chuckle, which Yvie counted as a win. The two untangled themselves as the readied the kitchen for imminent destruction.

“Sasta,” Scarlet mumbled under her breath.

“Poup,” Yvie giggled.

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “You’re a child,” she said, but there was no malice in her words.

After wasting about ten minutes debating over what to call their new creation, and getting sidetracked by a couple of heated kisses, Scarlet sentenced Yvie to cutting vegetables on the opposite side of their tiny alleyway kitchen.

Yvie groaned but did as she was told, and the two worked side by side in relative silence… for all of about a minute before Yvie broke and started cracking her worst dad jokes just to make Scarlet laugh. The older girl even spilled half the broth onto the floor after a particularly bad one. Neither of them seemed to mind, getting wrapped up in each other’s company.

It was the most fun Yvie could remember having with just the two of them in a long while.

So it made no sense as to why Scarlet looked so sad all of a sudden.

“Babe?”

Scarlet looked up from where she had been staring blankly at the counter. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You just kinda… spaced out on me there.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m good, sorry!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Yvie sighed, never one to allow bullshit to go on for too long; she pushed the issue. “Scar, what’s been goin’ on with you lately?”

“What do you mean?” Scarlet’s voice was innocently questioning, but Yvie knew she had hit on something when Scarlet looked down at her feet.

“You’re just acting strange. At work, you’re either hovering over me or abandoning me for entire days. And every time I look at you, you look sad.”

Scarlet sighed and turned away to face the pot again. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Scar, please.” Yvie placed her hands in Scarlet’s. “You’ve got me worried.”

“I’m sorry, Yves, really I am. I never meant to worry you.” Scarlet squeezed her hands once, twice, and then let them go. “I just- I’m just feeling a little lost.”

“Okay.”

“In life.”

“That’s understandable. We have crazy lives. It’s normal to feel like that.”

Scarlet nodded, but Yvie still wasn’t convinced.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well, it’s not only that. Or maybe it is, I’m not really sure. I thought that was it, but maybe there’s more to it. I’ve just been thinking a lot recently…” Scarlet was talking too quickly, rushing out words, and not completing sentences. “…I’m just unsure of my future with you and with the company and-”

Yvie cut her off, insecurity creeping into her words, “Wait, wait. You’re feeling weird with me?”

“No! I mean. Not because of you, per se…”

“Then what?”

Scarlet looked back down at her hands. “It’s just… ever since you got hurt and didn’t tell me-”

“But we talked about that, Scar!”

“I know, I know! I’m just feeling unsure of where I stand with you.” Scarlet finally looked up to meet Yvie’s eyes.

She looked nervous and sad.

Yvie’s heart nearly broke at the sight, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop the feelings of anger from rising in her. Scarlet had always been the one that was bad at opening up, the one who played hard to get for nearly a year. She had been the one that took ages to convince that moving in together was a good idea. She was the one that was guarded and hard to read and apathetic at times.

Hearing that Yvie herself was the one who was having a difficult time displaying her emotions was crushing.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Yvie’s voice was raised now, unable to stop the hurt from getting the best of her.

“I mean… where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Scar, we’ve been dating for four years now, I think the time for icebreakers has passed.” Yvie couldn’t stop herself, her words coming out harsher than she intended.

Scarlet looked to the floor, her hands fidgeting by her sides. “I meant like us. Where do you see us in five years?”

“What do you mean?” Yvie asked exasperated.

“Nevermind, forget I asked.” Scarlet turned away from the kitchen and walked purposefully to the living room. “It was stupid. I’m sorry. Let’s just forget it.”

“Baby, please don’t do this.”

Scarlet ignored her and picked up her purse from the table and headed for the door.

“I’m gonna go get more tomato sauce, I think we’re out.”

She had almost turned the knob when Yvie called after her. “Scarlet!”

The older girl turned her head to meet Yvie’s eyes.

“Please, don’t shut me out.”

Scarlet looked hard at Yvie for a long moment.

Then she left without another word.

…

“Trix, someone’s here to see you.”

“Tell her to fuck off.”

“T, she’s followed us for nearly six tour stops, don’t you think you should just talk to her?”

“No.”

“T-”

“Just leave it.” Trixie picked up her tap shoes and took a deep breath in and out. “Tell her to fuck off.”

Dela left the bathroom without another word, but with a very concerned look.

Trixie sighed at her reflection.

It had been a long day.

Her legs and feet were killing her, her head was pounding, and she couldn’t get the image of piercing blue eyes out of her head. She needed a super-indulgent bath, including many bath bombs, her chill playlist, and about a year’s worth of rest. So when she swung open the doors to the dressing room, her mind preoccupied with choosing which of her expensive soaps to use, and she saw Katya lounging at her makeup station, Trixie really didn’t have it in her to deal with this.

“This space is for performers only.”

“I can juggle.”

“Oh, so Russia’s royal family invested in classes about juggling but not basic human decency? Good to know.”

“Myshka-”

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m leaving,’ I don’t wanna hear it.”

When the older woman simply sighed and mimed locking her mouth shut, Trixie only rolled her eyes before shooing Katya away from her station with an irritated hand motion. She sat down and took a deep breath in and out, readying herself for the never-easy task of wiping away what she could of her heavy makeup.

Usually, she would put on some music, chat with her fellow dancers, make a few jokes about the crowd that night, then head for bed, but tonight was different.

Katya hadn’t taken the not so subtle hint to get lost, and was still there, hovering over Trixie’s right shoulder, biting her lip quite literally and fidgeting.

The rest of the room’s occupants were looking at the pair of them, some sharing knowing glances, others skeptical or even quizzical looks at each other. The room was dead silent.

Trixie sighed and raised her voice, addressing the rest of the room. “Jesus, it’s not a fucking funeral, will someone put on some damn music?”

As if that was the cue they needed, the dressing room was suddenly filled with the sound of animated chattering and gossip.

Violet came over to check on Trixie at least twice in ten minutes. Each time Trixie sent her away with a promise of everything being okay, and each time Violet shot Katya a withering stare.

It was only after assuring Violet, Jinkx, Vanessa, and even Yvie that she was okay that they finally left her alone with Katya in the dressing room.

Katya had the decency to wait until the door closed before trying to launch into her tirade.

Trixie stopped her with a single finger.

Each time Katya went to start over, Trixie stopped her.

This went on for about ten minutes before Katya finally stopped trying to talk. Trixie let the room bask in silence for a few seconds before she spoke calmly and firmly.

“I don’t wanna hear what you have to say. I don’t want your excuses or your lame ass explanation for this whole mess. I don’t want it.”

Katya sighed. “Myshka, I know you are putting your foot down, but I’m putting mine down too. I’m not going away. Not until you hear me out.”

“That’s why security was invented.”

“Trixie, please.”

Everything in Trixie was screaming at her to let Katya in, to hear her out. But everything inside her was also pissed the fuck off.

Katya had lied to her. Plain and simple. Had lied since the day they met. On the other hand, Trixie was very much enamored of her. So much so that she didn’t really mind the lying.

But she should. Shouldn’t she?

She should mind. And she should care.

Her trust was broken.

She didn’t know the woman standing in front of her.

Not the way she thought she did.

But even still, her heart had swelled three times just from hearing her own name from Katya’s lips. And she didn’t mind the lying as much as she should. And that made her sad.

So she was mostly sad, a bit angry, and very much in love with Katya.

So she made a compromise with herself.

“You have five minutes.”

The relief on Katya’s face was immediate.

“Come with me. I have to show you something.”

Trixie denied Katya’s open hand but nodded for her to lead the way. Katya wove her way between the various props and set equipment in the illustrious theatre, walking as if she knew the layout. They went through so many doors that Trixie lost count, but somehow they ended up outside.

Katya came to a sudden stop, looked right then left, thinking aloud to herself.

“Now, where did that damn car go?”

“Uh-uh. You aren’t taking me on another wild romantic adventure. Anything you wanna say, you can say now.”

Katya sighed.

“At least let me find a spot to sit down.”

“Four minutes now.”

Katya’s eyes bulged out, and she didn’t wait for Trixie to reject her hand this time, she grabbed her hand, and they ran from the back of the theatre into the brush just outside. Trixie’s hair and clothes were being pulled at, but her curiosity got the better of her. As well as the fact that Katya was pulling her entire body weight like it was nothing through the dense bush, so she didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.

Finally, they came to a clearing. The grass stretched on and on and on, only a faint line of trees was visible at the far end of the clearing.

Katya plopped down onto the wet grass without so much as a thought to her clothes or general person. She then leaned back and propped herself up on her elbows, then motioned for Trixie to follow suit, and after a bit of mumbling about the condition of the dirt, Trixie found herself laying parallel to Katya on the grass.

Trixie let her head fall back onto the earth, and her eyes reach up to the sky above her. She let her mind go blissfully quiet in favor of tracing patterns in the stars, making up shapes and people and cities she longed to see.

“Trix?” Katya asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“I’m really sorry.”

Trixie sighed. “I know you are.”

“Like really, really sorry.”

“I know.”

“Like the sorriest I’ve ever been in my life. Including the time I broke my mother’s collection of fine china seagulls after she told me that Santa wasn’t real and then I blamed it on my little brother who got the fear of god yelled into him.”

“I didn’t know you had a little brother.”

“I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

That was an understatement. Trixie thought.

“I guess.”

Katya sat up suddenly, determination in her eyes. “Well, we should fix that then, shouldn’t we?”

“Katya, I-”

“Just wait. Before you tell me you hate me forever, and you can never forgive me.” Katya pulled out a stack of paper from a bag that Trixie only just noticed was slung across her body. If Trixie weren’t feeling… whatever she was feeling, she would laugh at the absurdity of Katya pulling a loose leaf manifesto out of a bag that seemed to have appeared magically.

“Here.” Katya pushed the stack of bound papers into Trixie’s hands. They were much heavier than Trixie thought.

“What’s this?”

“A book. My book.”

“You’re a writer?” Trixie asked incredulously.

“Not a good one. That’s why I need your help.”

Trixie knew where this was going now, and started to shake her head at the prospect of what Katya was asking. “I write songs, not stories.”

“What are songs if not stories set to a melody?” Katya mused.

“God, that was pretentious.” Trixie groaned.

“Just read it.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m asking you to. Please, myshka.” Katya took Trixie’s hands lightly in her own. “If you still hate me after reading it, then I’ll go away. You will never have to hear from me again. I’ll disappear.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Trixie pretended to mull it over in her head, mind already made up to binge-read the whole thing in one night purely out of morbid curiosity.

“Okay, then.”

The two went back to their own respective activities, Trixie pretending she wasn’t looking at Katya by looking up at the sky every now and then, and Katya openly staring at Trixie while picking at the blades of grass.

Time seemed to move slowly, and the sky seemed to hardly move at all.

Trixie shut her eyes one moment, then opened them a moment later, and found her head in Katya’s lap, and her hair being carded through with such gentleness that her heart nearly gave out at the feeling.

“Katya?”

“Yes, myshka?”

“I don’t hate you.”

There was a pause.

“I know.”

…

Brooke smiled at their mass of tangled limbs amidst the messy bed sheets. She watched lazily as Vanessa pulled herself up enough to steal a quick kiss from Brooke’s lips. The younger girl evidently ran out of strength after that exchange and collapsed back onto the mass of pillows she had demanded.

Brooke laughed. “You know you’re a lot more romantic than I thought.”

Vanessa smacked a pillow down so she could see Brooke without lifting her head. “Was that a read?” She accused.

“No, baby. It’s sweet.”

“And I’m the romantic? With how soft your voice just got? Child.”

“Again with the backtalk.” Brooke warned.

“You love it.”

“I do.”

Brooke’s voice was light and her chest was pounding and the prolonged eye contact was making her feel exposed.

Luckily Vanessa broke it first, letting her eyes fall to the bedsheets.

“You gonna make me leave now?”

“Hmm?”

“Or you gonna sneak out again?”

Brooke put her head in her hands and sighed.

“I figured we was at the age now where we don’t gotta do none of that sneakin’ around shit… but I guess not”

“It’s not what you think,” Brooke deflected.

“It is though.” Vanessa sighed and let a bit of her resolve slip. Her words suddenly became laced with touches of resentment. “You’re catching feelings and tryna act like you angsty as hell about ‘em. You don’t do none of this fallin’ for someone shit and you think it makes you interesting to be this pretty troubled thing. It don’t. It makes you exhausting.”

“Vanessa-”

“No, no, you gonna listen to me right now.” Vanessa coaxed Brooke’s hands away from her face and intertwined their fingers. She waited to speak until Brooke made eye contact with her.

It was strange.

The two had seen each other naked numerous times by then, but in that moment, Brooke felt more exposed than ever.

“You don’t gotta put up this act wit’ me.” Vanessa’s voice softened. “I didn’t fall for your defense mechanisms. I fell for you, Brooke.”

“You don’t even know me,” Brooke deflected.

“I’d like to.”

Brooke was silent.

She looked at the sheets then the wall then the curtains then her hands.

You wouldn’t, she wanted to say. You wouldn’t want to know me.

I don’t want to know me.

I’m a mess, not because it makes me interesting, but because I have a past. I have a history. One I’ve been running from my whole life.

I’m damaged goods.

I’m ill-tempered and overly dramatic and I never feel safe enough to sleep for more than four hours at a time.

Brooke was a cliche. She admitted it openly.

The heartbreaker. They always called her. The mysterious new girl who spent too much time in the dance studio and in class and in other girl’s beds. She was sought after, chased. Everyone wanting to fix her, or know her, or get a glimpse of the beast. Every bit of the cliche she had perfected. It had become so interwoven with her personality Brooke had convinced herself it was real.

But in moments like this, where her head was spinning and her heart was pounding and her ears were ringing, and she looked at Vanessa, she knew it was all an act.

And I care for you far too much to let you care for me.

But Brooke didn’t say any of that because that sounded an awful lot like love.

She stayed silent.

And the seconds ticked by.

And Vanessa sighed.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

Before Brooke could blink Vanessa started pulling on her clothes, and Brooke winced at how fast and precise her movements were; she was practiced, the moves familiar.

“I didn’t say you had to leave.”

“You didn’t ask me to stay.”

Vanessa turned back to look at Brooke with one last unreadable expression.

Brooke wanted to reach out, wanted to pull the young girl back into the bed, pull the covers over them both and let the rest of the world burn. She wanted to keep her close. She wanted to keep her safe.

But if Brooke really wanted to keep Vanessa safe, she should let her go. Right? That was the right thing to do.

After all this time of doing the wrong things: sleeping with Vanessa, getting attached to her, letting Vanessa get attached back. After all of that, Brooke had the opportunity to do the right thing. To let her go and not look back.

But she couldn’t help herself.

“Vanessa-”

But she was cut off.

“It’s okay, Miss Brooke. I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow.”

Before Brooke could exhale, her apartment door slammed shut with finality.

17 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

To New Hytes (Group-fic) 7/? - Mac

AN: Again, all my love to Meggie and Grapefruit for betaing and being amazing humans. Also, I took some liberties with Russain politics….

Summary: Kameron and Blair talk about their past, Scarlet is acting strange, Trixie uncovers Katya’s secret, and Brooke is having girl problems.

Kameron made it a habit of dancing late at night. After all the other dancers were gone after the moon was high in the sky.

She let herself dance.

Sometimes Blair would come watch.

It had become almost routine for them.

Blair would sit in the audience and cheer and applaud like a lunatic. Other times she would draw in her sketchbook and smile as Kameron tried to figure out what turn came next, or what would look better, a jump or a dip.

Even if Blair was just napping quietly, she always made Kameron’s heart soar.

Tonight was one of those nights where Blair sat, bleary-eyed, sketchbook in hand, staring up at Kameron like she was the most beautiful creature on earth.

Kameron finished her performance with a dramatic bow just to make Blair laugh. Kameron liked the sound of Blair’s laugh. Like pretty much everything about Blair.

The older girl hopped off the stage and crawled over the first few rows of seats to come sit a row in front of the young designer, straddling the old theatre seat backwards so she could see Blair’s smile.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Blair spoke in her soft voice. “I made somethin’ for ya.”

“Oh yeah? For me?”

“Well, I mean, I ain’t made it yet, but I drawn it.”

Blair turned the notebook in her hands around to show Kameron.

It was her. It was her, styled in one of the most beautiful dresses Kameron had ever seen. She was being dramatic, sure - but despite the small size of the gesture it filled her heart with joy.

And it was her, not just some model for the gown, it was Kameron. All 5 feet 11 inches of her. All muscles bulging out in a way that always made her a bit self-conscious. She didn’t feel self-conscious now, she felt… beautiful.

The dress was gorgeous. Long flowing blue fabric that looked like it floated out around her legs, the sweetheart neckline delicately clinging to her body in all the right places. The silver flecks from Blair’s pencil littered the dress with a glimmer, a shine that somehow seemed to add depth to the otherwise simple drawing.

But the details in her eyes were what really made Kameron melt.

They were deep brown, but still somehow shifted in the light. They spoke of pencil shavings and barely-there eraser marks, and time.

Kameron didn’t have words, she tried and failed to find words that weren’t going to scare Blair away.

That’s when she took notice of the pad Blair was sketching on.

It was the same one filled with sketch after sketch of Brianna.

Blair seemed to realize this at the same time Kameron did.

“I ran outta paper so I had ta use this one.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kameron spoke, trying not to let the jealousy and anger seep into her words. She stood up, making her way back to the stage, the lightness in her chest dimmed with every step she took.

“Kameron, what’s wrong?” Blair called after her.

“I’m not her,” Kameron said, not hiding the contempt in her voice any longer.

“I’m not sayin’ you are. Kameron, darlin’, listen-”

“No, angel. If you were hoping I’d wake up one day and be her, be a bitch to you, it’s not gonna happen. I would never do that to you. Never. I would never hurt you like that. I’d never hurt you period.”

“I know, Kameron, please I know.”

“I haven’t ever felt this way for somebody before.” Kameron softened her voice as she spoke mostly to herself. “I want to keep you safe.”

“You do.” Blair stood up, moving to stand within an arm’s reach of Kameron.

“No, clearly I don’t. You wouldn’t feel the need to put on the back of the page of your ex then.”

Blair was silent.

She looked up at Kameron, who sighed and sat down on the stage so they could look at each other.

Kameron took Blair’s hands in her own, trying to ground them both. “You think you’re ready but you aren’t. I’m tellin’ you, angel. You gotta believe me on this one.” Kameron tucked a piece of Blair’s hair behind her ear, and the younger girl smiled sadly as Kameron’s hand lingered for a moment before slowly falling from her face.

Blair rested her head on Kameron’s thigh. It was an awkward position, with Blair standing nearly bent in half to be close to the older girl, but she didn’t mind. Kameron trailed her fingers lightly through the long blonde waves, perfectly soft and sweet, perfectly representative of the girl it belonged to.

“What happened?” Blair asked softly after a bit of silence. “Why’d ya stop dancin’? You love it, clearly, you do.” Kameron’s fingers stopped, and for a moment Blair thought she’d overstepped. But her fingers continued their small caresses a moment later.

Kameron sighed. “We were fucking around in our theatre. The one we have now. Brooke and I had just finished signing the lease and we couldn’t wait a damn minute to celebrate. It doesn’t look the same now as it did back then. It was old, probably the oldest thing in town. Tech hadn’t been looked at, I mean, we had hardly looked at the damn thing. We were young, we thought we knew everything.”

Kameron breathed in and out, and Blair took her head off her lap to intertwine their fingers. “A stage light fell on me. It was old. We shoulda fucking checked before doing anything stupid.”

“We were dancing, fucking around, making our dream come true. And there was this loud crack and it fell. Right on my foot, shattered the thing up to my ankle pretty much. I fell on the stage and banged up my head real good. Doctors said I’d never walk again. Said I had a brain bleed.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. I went through months and months of therapy, physical and otherwise. They told me not to push it, but I did. I pushed every day to walk again. To get the chance to dance again.” Kameron smiled. “They said I couldn’t ever be that strong again. So I spent my life proving them wrong. I worked out every day, ate so healthy. I got my body to where it is today and I’m strong… physically.”

Kameron paused. “Not so much on the inside, but that’s a work in progress.”

“Oh darlin’, you’re the strongest person I know.” Blair squeezed her hands and tilted Kameron’s face down to meet her eyes. “Thank you for tellin’ me.”

“Do you believe me when I say you aren’t ready to handle all this yet? You need to take time for yourself, figure out what it is you want. I’ll be here when you figure it out.”

“I believe ya,” Blair said. And she meant it. “But I also know that I got feelins’ for you.”

Kameron’s smile took over her face, but she tried to school it. This wasn’t about her right now. This was about Blair. “I’m not saying you gotta stop, actually please don’t stop liking me, it feeds my ego.”

Blair laughed a bit.

Kameron held Blair’s face in her hands. “I think I’m falling in love with you too, angel, and I’m scared, ‘cause the last time I fell in love with something I was told I’d never walk again.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Kameron. You got me.”

Kameron nodded and took her hands off Blair’s face before she could do anything stupid.

Blair smiled sadly at the gesture but tried to not let it show as she made her way out of the theatre.

“Hey, angel?” Kameron called after her.

Blair whipped around.

“I’ll be here.”

Blair smiled. “I know.”

…

Yvie was perched atop the couch in her dressing room, Scarlet coming in every five minutes to double-check that she really was feeling better and had not, in fact, changed her mind at the last second.

“Scar, honey, you’re making me nervous with how much you’re pacing. I’m fine.”

“Yves, don’t you think you should take a break? I’m sure Nina wouldn’t mind letting you off for a few cities.”

“Scar, I wanna stay. I have to stay.”

“You have to recover and take it easy. You keep pushing yourself this hard and you’re gonna get really hurt.”

“I know. I know.” Yvie dismissed.

Scarlet lingered by the door, looking on as Yvie tied up the laces on her shoes. “We could make a mini-vacation out of it,” Scarlet suggested. “Go back to Albany. Have some time away. I think it would put some things into perspective.” Scarlet paused. “For both of us.”

Yvie looked up warily. “Scar, what are you saying?”

Scarlet wouldn’t meet Yvie’s eyes. “Nothing, I just thought it would be nice.”

“Miss Envy!”

Scarlet turned on her heel and walked quickly to the door at the sound of her name being called.

“Wait, no Scar-”

“It’s fine. Just rest.” Scarlet spoke with a small soft smile as she closed the door behind her.

Yvie tried not to get too in her head about what the fuck just happened. She had a show to do. She couldn’t focus on Scarlet’s recent weird behavior. Her overbearingness on Yvie suddenly, her reluctance to sleep, her frankly panicked tone of voice. And now this.

Scarlet was always the work-driven one. She never took sick days, never took more than a thirty-minute nap, and always had her phone on her. She was a machine when it came to this company. The fact that she was willingly suggesting that they take time off was more than a bit worrying.

Yvie brushed it off for now, but the little voice in the back of her head said this was the beginning of the end.

Yvie ignored it and proceeded to get ready for the show.

…

Trixie smiled at her phone for the millionth time that hour.

K: I’ll be seeing you soon

Katya had sent it hours ago, and yet Trixie was still staring at it like the message would change. Like it would disappear along with Katya herself and the whole thing would just be some big joke at her expense.

But the text didn’t disappear. Nor the memories of their wild adventure nearly a month ago.

The memories stuck in her brain, along with Katya’s name. Her full name. Trixie couldn’t get it out of her head.

Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova

She was sounding the letters out in her head over and over again on a loop when an idea suddenly hit her. Back ram-rod straight and eyes wide as she grabbed at her computer.

She was curious, so she spelled - to the best of her abilities - Katya’s name, her real name. No results were found at first, so after twenty or so minutes of putting her computer analytics degree to the test and fucking around with google translate, she finally got some results.

But the results that came up were all of some Russian princess who had gone missing a few years back. Trixie nearly gave up on the whole venture, but a strange curiosity got the better of her and she clicked on the first article.

She came face to face with her Russian lover.

Wait. What?

Katya, her Katya, the one with the frizzy dye job and horrible fashion and mysterious past was splayed all over countless magazines.

Trixie put each of the titles in the translator, each title confirming the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Russia’s Lost Queen”

“Princess and Duke to Wed in May”

“Beloved Ruler Goes Missing”

“Three Years Later: The Effects of the Disappearance”

Trixie doesn’t think twice about calling Katya.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what, myshka?”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not a mouse.”

“Oh, so you are ‘mad’ mad.”

“You bet your fuckin ass I’m mad.” Trixie paused. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I guess cursing at the fucking Princess of Russia is frowned upon.”

“There is no official royalty in Russia,” Katya said without missing a beat, but the usual joy in her voice was gone, instead it was replaced with an impassive coldness.

“Tell that to all the news outlets calling you the ‘missing future queen’”

"Russia is a republic, the royal family is just a title. Most people don’t even know of the royal family because they are insignificant.”

“It says you have a say in all laws passed and that you can veto whatever you feel like."

“Which I have never done.”

“So it’s true?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You might as well have.”

“Listen, Trix-”

“Is it true you’re engaged too?”

“I was, yeah, but the law legally absolves the engagement after five years.”

Trixie laughed but there was no joy in it.

“You’re the future heir to the Russian throne! You’re engaged! You’re acting like these aren’t important things to tell someone!”

“I was waiting until we got married.”

Trixie didn’t laugh.

“Listen, myshka, it isn’t what it seems.“

“Really? ‘Cause it seems like you lied to me. Lied from the minute I met you.”

“Trixie, please, can you just listen to me for a moment, pozhaluysta?”

Trixie hung up the phone before Katya could convince her to stay on the line.

…

Blair ran through her list one more time with Monet who was rolling her eyes and assuring her that they got everything.

They were back in their home theatre for a week before heading back off to hit the western US cities. Blair saw this as a perfect opportunity to take care of a few ghosts from her past.

Monet nodded once, twice, three times, telling Blair it really was fine.

“What did you say you were going to California for?” Vanessa spoke, as she sat up from her position on Blair’s couch.

“Just some business that needs tendin’ to. I’ll be back ‘fore you know it.”

“You ain’t about to walk out on us, now are you, Miss Blair?”

“Of course not. I could never walk out on you, baby.” Blair threw a wink at Vanessa who fake swooned and fell dramatically back against the couch.

Blair giggled.

She hugged Monet, who gave her a knowing smile.

Blair leaned down to give Vanessa a peck on the cheek, but of course, Vanessa tried to turn her head and get a real kiss. Blair just laughed harder and chastised her lightly “I’m a lady after all,” she joked.

Blair left the theatre slowly, trying not to take notice of the crew members as they passed by her.

She hailed a cab and before she knew it, she was standing outside a gorgeous theatre in San Francisco.

It was one of those fancy old theatres that were reminiscent of Old Hollywood. The glamour and elegance practically dripped off the walls. If Blair weren’t here for a very specific purpose, she would have started snapping pictures to sketch out later.

For now, though, she was being escorted by a security team through the back passages of the gorgeous theatre, and she hardly had a moment to think before she was face to face with a woman she hadn’t seen in person for nearly three years.

“What are you doing here?”

If to further rub salt in old wounds, Brianna’s tone was harsh and demanding.

“I came to see you.”

“Why?”

So nothing had changed.

Blair smiled to herself and knew then that it was truly over. Whatever they had, it had ended a long time ago, but now, now it was over.

“How are the costumes coming?” Blair ignored her question.

“What are you really doing here? Here to scope out the competition?”

“No. Jesus. Do ya really think so lowly of me?”

“Answer my fucking question.” Briana was drunk. Or high. One of the two. Blair used to be able to distinguish between them, but now, now it was like she was talking to a stranger.

“I just needed some closure. After everything.” Blair fought the urge to wring her hands. “We never really talked about it. ”

Brianna’s eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of their past. She looked around to the other people in the room. “Out.” She demanded.

They made themselves scarce.

Brianna sighed as the scrambling entourage took just long enough for her to take another swig from her water bottle, and Blair was positive now there wasn’t water in it.

Brianna sighed again and attempted to stand up and get closer to Blair. She bailed on that idea when she noticed she could barely walk. She sat back down, none too gracefully, and rubbed her forehead worriedly.

“I know what I did to you was shitty.” She paused, and Blair held her breath, hoping she’d get the apology she had so craved these past few years. “But it made me, baby.” Brianna held her arms out to the room around her. “It made me so much more than I was ever gonna be if I stayed.”

Blair didn’t bite back a bitter laugh at the words. “We all make choices in life, but usually we take a minute to think ‘bout other people’s feelins before we do shit like that.”

“I know.”

“No, ya don’t know. You cared ‘bout your career, trust me, I get it. But you never thought ‘bout mine. Not once in your whole plan did you ever imagine me makin’ it big with you. Did ya?”

“No.” It wasn’t said with any particular emotion attached to it, it was just… the truth. Brianna hadn’t ever thought they would make it. Hadn’t ever considered the possibility that they could have worked out.

Blair’s demeanor changed. She plastered on her most professional smile and spoke her next words calmly. “That’s all I came here for. Thank you, Mrs. Panandrani. Good luck with your show tonight.”

“Blair wait-”

But by the time Brianna could stand firmly on her feet, Blair was already out the door.

…

Kameron walked up the familiar stairs to Brooke and Nina’s office.

She smiled at the old scuff mark on the third stair from the top. She still distinctly remembered how Monet had unknowingly walked on the fresh coat of paint and left a trail of brown footprints all over the backstage area.

Kameron shook her head lightly, she didn’t have time for reminiscing. She knocked twice on the office door and let herself in.

“Hey, Kam. What’s up?” Brooke said, not looking up from her computer.

Kameron didn’t even take a breath before she started on her spiel. “I wanna join the company. I know I said I wasn’t ready but I am now. I wanna be up there. I know I’m not up to date on all the dances, but I can learn them. I can do it. Just give me a chance, B. Please.”

Brooke had to ask her to repeat herself once, twice, then one more time because she was crying.

Brooke couldn’t pull Kameron into her arms fast enough.

The two hugged and squealed and generally let themselves rejoice in the fact that after all this time, their dream, their original dream was happening.

Brooke pulled back but stayed close to Kameron, the safety she felt in the younger girl’s presence spurred her on.

“This is perfect timing actually, cause I’m gonna be gone for a bit and I need someone to take my spot in the lineup.”

“Where’re you going on such late notice, Miss Boss Lady?”

Brooke looked at the floor, her hands were clasping and unclasping with her breath. “It’s not a big deal, just need to check up on some things. See the cats, you know.”

Kameron pulled up a chair as Brooke rambled, nodding unconvincingly.

“What did she do?” Kameron probed.

Brooke sighed but couldn’t hide the smile on her face. Of course, Kameron knew. Who didn’t know?

“She didn’t do anything.”

“And that’s the problem.”

Brooke nodded. She may be incredibly obvious, but still. It was nice that she didn’t have to say anything. It was nice that Kameron just knew. Knew what she needed. It wasn’t that Brooke couldn’t talk to Nina or Monet, but those two were still so wrapped up in their honeymoon phase that she didn’t want to bother them with her own spiraling emotions.

“Have you talked to her?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“‘Hey, Vanessa, I think I’m in love with you’ would probably get the point across.”

“I’m not in love with her! Jesus, no.”

Kameron gave her a withering stare.

“Okay then. How about ‘Hey Vanessa, I really like fucking you and I only want to do that. I don’t think about holding your hand or sleeping next to you or stealing kisses in between rehearsal or going on stupid cheesy dates with you. Nope. Just wanna bang you. That’s all.’”

“This isn’t funny, Kameron.”

“I’m amusing myself. Shall I go on?”

“Look. It’s not love. It can’t be that. I’ve only known her for-”

“Ten months.”

Had it been ten months? Already? It felt like weeks since the ball of chaos and energy that was Vanessa first graced their stage.

“I’ve only really gotten to know her in the past few weeks. And even still I don’t really know her.”

“You know what her pussy tastes like but not her middle name. Gotcha.”

“Not helping, Kam.”

“Sorry, sorry. Look B. I think you like her, and I know for you that’s new, but this is how we regular folk do things. We go up to the person, we ask them out, we keep doing that for a few weeks, then hopefully we start fucking each other’s brains out.”

“Jesus, Kam.”

“It seems like you guys skipped the first couple steps, but that’s okay. That’s fine.”

Brooke bit her lip, not sure what to say.

“Look, B. I know you haven’t done this before, had proper feelings. You had girls in your bed nearly every night in college, but you never really cared about them. Now I dunno if that was you not letting yourself get attached or what, but it was always just-”

“-me and you.”

“Me and you.” Kameron echoed.

Brooke smiled sadly; it spoke her next words for her. “You know I thought I loved you for a little while in there.”

“I know.”

They shared a private smile, no words were spoken, but an understanding passed between them. They both knew. They both had known.

The unspoken words were a mixture of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘It’s fine’ and ‘I love you.’

“We never woulda worked. You know they say don’t mix business with pleasure.” Kameron shot her a wink.

The moment was broken and Brooke was left with her mouth hanging open at Kameron’s comment.

“What’s gotten into you recently?”

Kameron just smiled and shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just happy is all.”

“Well, cut it out. It’s giving you a personality. It’s weird.”

Kameron smacked her arm lightly.

“Ow, bitch.”

The first playful hit quickly devolved into a full-on fight, with Brooke and Kameron running around the small office space in the upstairs of a theatre they bought through their blood sweat and tears with a company they had built together.

And there they were. Acting like children.

Brooke swore she had never been happier.

33 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

How Far I'll Go Chapter Six (Ninex) - Mia Ugly, Meggie

A/N: We’re baaaaack! Hi hello how are you? LIFE is crazy. We’re so sorry it took so long to get this chapter to you guys, but honestly, Snatch Game was probably the hardest thing we’ve written. It’s hard to be funny. I’m going to be way nicer to queens who do badly on Snatch Game from here on out because it’s not easy, mama. Anyway. We hope you enjoy this SUPER MEGA SIZED CHAPTER (10.5k!) to make up for the super long hiatus. And hopefully we’ll be back with more very soon. Come visit us on our blogs: @mia-ugly and @artificialmeggie

Previously: The runway was purple, but Blair’s Scarlett O'Hara realness wasn’t enough to save a poor performance and she was sent packing. Brooke and Vanjie are (most definitely) probably still messing around, and Nina and Monet had a moment backstage when Nina narrowly avoided elimination. Or was it a moment? Oh, and Nina’s probably losing his mind.

To come: Katya, Snatch Game, a hotel bar date, and a musical number.

Nina wakes up and is still on Drag Race.

He might be having some kind of a nervous breakdown (and breaking into song periodically) but that’s showbiz, kid.

And now it’s time for the fucking Snatch Game.

Shower, shave, dress.

Prepare for another sloppy Branjie moment in the elevator (and thank God, Nina gets to avoid that for a change). Nina Bo’nina is riding down alone, and the two of them chat distractedly on their way to the conference room.

A few of the mentors are there, but no Monét and no Trixie.

Nina tries not to let that bother him as he nibbles his toast and drinks his coffee. He’s focused this morning, ready for whatever happens next. He’s been thinking about Snatch Game since the moment he got the All Stars call, is determined that this is going to be his challenge (of course, he might have had that thought about the last challenge too… No, nope, move the hell on, girl.)

Nina doesn’t see Brooke until they film the Werk Room entrance. The man looks exhausted. There are circles under his eyes that the makeup guy has done his best to cover, but it’s still obvious Brooke is not at his best. It makes Nina remember that - no matter how stupid the Canadian is being about Vanjie (and no matter what sort of history he has with Nina’s equally stupid heart), Nina still loves him. Will probably always love him in some kind of way.

“No coffee this morning?” he asks quietly as they’re waiting to get mic’d.

“Not enough.” Brooke pulls down his hideous knitted beanie (where the hell does he keep getting those? A P.A. should - frankly - take them away.)

“Have a late night?” Nina doesn’t really want to know, but if Brooke needs to talk about it -

“Oh no. No. Just - thinking.” He rolls his neck. “Like - we know what’s coming up, right? And last season - it wasn’t my best look.”

Nina barks out a an embarrassingly loud laugh. “No kidding.”

“You didn’t have to find it that funny.”

“It’s pretty funny.”

“You’re a dick, you know that? No matter how sweet Monét thinks you are.”

This makes Nina stop laughing. “Sorry - what?”

“He was just going on about you when he was watching Asia film our scene last episode. Like - ‘try this, Nina does this, blah blah.’”

Nina doesn’t know what to think about that. It makes him feel a bit warm and light-headed, but absolutely incapable of responding.

“Clearly you’ve got her fooled. I know what you’re really like.”

“Haha, yeah.” Nina’s voice is weak and he hopes to God Brooke doesn’t immediately clock his blush. Luckily, Vanjie chooses that moment to start flirting with the sound guy, and Brooke’s attention is suddenly elsewhere. Yes, yes, that’s good. Nina will have to keep Vanjie close by at all times, just in case he needs to distract Brooke.

They all romp into the Werk Room together, Shea and Asia working their few seconds in the doorway for all it’s worth (“pose for me, pose for me, POSE”). They talk a bit about Blair going home, but before they can say much about it there’s the sound of a video message, and the television flickers to life.

“Ladies,” Ru’s face comes onto the screen. “I picked you queens for All Stars because you represent the best of the best. But on second thought… I think I’d like to see some other queens in your place. Sorry, not sorry.”

The video ends.

“What the hell does that mean?” Shea asks.

“Nah, nah.” Vanjie is shaking his head in denial. “We don’t need no more hos up in here. We got too many of y’all already.”

“Hello, hello, hello!” The door opens and Ru comes into the Werk Room, followed by the mentors. Nina tries to smile and look as excited to see Ru as he’s always supposed to be, but - he can’t help being worried about whatever the hell twist is coming up. (Monét winks at him as he comes in, so that’s something. Nina will keep that one brief moment like a diamond in his pocket.)

“Ladies, for this week’s maxi challenge, it’s time for another All Star Edition of Snatch Game!”

Most of the queens around Nina are delighted - except Brooke. Nina can see him smiling, but it’s fragile and fake, and his arms are folded very tightly around himself, legs crossed at the thigh even though he’s standing; a clear indication he’s stressing.

“This time, however, to celebrate my recent single ‘Queens Everywhere’— available now on iTunes—we’re going to do things a little bit differently. I know you’re all amazing queens, but for this Snatch Game, I’d like to see if you have any other queens inside you.” Ru raises a suggestive eyebrow. “Not to give Miss Vanjie an unfair advantage.”

Vanjie’s jaw drops even as he laughs, mutters “shade” through his perfect teeth.

“For this Snatch Game, I’m asking you to channel one of your sisters. We’ve had a lot of iconic queens on this series, so you’ll have plenty of personalities to choose from. And luckily you’ve got some experts here for inspiration. Hashtag Snatch Game All Stars. Gentleman, start your engines. And may the best All Star… win!”

“The fuck?” Vanjie whispers to Nina as soon as Ru leaves. “Bitch, I had a damn plan. I brought the little gold trophies and everything. Watched all the fucking movies. Now I got to be one of y’all’s tired asses? That ain’t fair.”

“Trophies, like - you mean Oscars?”

“Sure, whatever.”

Nina has to admit that he’s kinda thrilled about this twist. He’d been telling anyone who will listen who he was going to be for the Snatch Game if he ever got another chance. He’d had a couple back-ups, of course (they’d all been told to bring a former queen, so honestly, they should have seen this coming from a mile away), but this really couldn’t have gone better for him.

He feels bad for some of the other queens though, especially Vanessa (the bitch was prepped to do Meryl Streep - Brooke’s idea, and a fucking hilarious one. He’d kill to see it).

“X-Queens assemble,” Monét calls over at him, and Nina pats Vanjie on the shoulder, goes off to sit with Monét and Asia.

Monét looks good. Real good. He’s in some loud patterned sweatshirt that has tiny slices of pizza all over it, and another pair of thick-rimmed glasses (white, or maybe baby pink?), and he’s smiling at Nina like - no, nope. Move along.

“It’s actually the Avengers that assemble,” Asia tells Monét, who rolls his eyes at her.

“Girl, you can’t be a bigger nerd than me. I won’t accept it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause knowing about the Avengers is real obscure, serious fan-only shit.”

“The shade, Miss Asia! Nina West, are you going to defend your mentor?”

Nina holds his hands up. “You’re the fearless leader, you got this.”

“The pair of you.” Monét shakes his head. “All right, what you got for Snatch Game?”

“I’ma be Brown Cow Stun-ning, yes, honey.” Asia pops her tongue after a pretty admirable impression of Monique Heart.

“And Miss Nina West?” Monét is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. Nina wonders if he’s heard the interviews, if he already knows.

“Miss Vaaaanjie,” Nina says, “Bitch, you know I don’t play games. Don’t play Monopology, Uno, Twistah, Tag, Marbles -”

“Jesus Christ, stop it.” Monét is covering his face with his hands, while Asia is cackling. “Does she know?”

“Not yet.”

“She will live. Okay, okay, I ain’t worried about either of you. Take me straight to the finale, win me that serious mentor coin.”

They run through a couple ideas for jokes, focusing more on Asia (who struggled last time and still has a bit of anxiety flaring behind her contacts). There’s a break for lunch, but it’s weirdly quiet, subdued. Snatch Game is an opportunity to stand out, to prove you deserve to be there. It’s also an opportunity to crash and burn in front of Ru, the judges, and later on - the world. So there’s that.

After lunch everyone starts putting on their paint, fixing their wigs. The cameras zoom in to get some Werk Room chatter about who is playing who, and of course they’re all dying for Vanessa’s reaction (as soon as he sees Nina pull out his pink-petalled Barbie-head dress from its garment bag, the pussycat’s out of the Prada bag).

“Noooo, bitch,” Vanjie shouts across the room, but he’s smiling. “Oh, I’mma have to whup your ass if that’s what I think it is.”

“Deuces!” Nina shouts back at him, throwing up the sign as well, while Brooke covers his face.

“That ain’t right, it ain’t right. Thought we was friends, sis.” Vanjie is laughing about it, though; Nina knows they’re cool.

“Who are you playing, Miss Shea Coulée?” Asia calls over to her sister, who is fussing with a nasty looking green wig.

“Paaaarty…” Shea drags out the word, working that vocal fry for all she’s worth. “I’m going to be Adore Delano, darling.”

Nina Bo’nina Brown thinks this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard, can’t speak for laughing so hard. Shea seems entertained by it at first, but her smile starts to tighten a little after the laughter continues a bit too long.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just - good luck, girl.”

“Who are you doing then?”

“Yeah,” Cracker interjects. “You were Jasmine Masters for your season’s Snatch Game right? The judges loved it.”

“Right. So why mess with perfection? I’m going to do Miss Jasmine Masters.”

A couple of the girls stop what they’re doing when she says this.

“You’re going to play the same queen?” Cracker repeats, a bit shocked.

“Yeah. I was sickening last time, I’ll be sickening this time.”

“Aren’t you worried that they’ll read you for not showing them what else you can do?”

“Nah. They’re gonna be laughing too hard.”

“Mmmm…” Vanjie makes a low, skeptical noise.

“Trust and believe, Vanjie,” Nina B. calls over to her. “Trust and believe.”

The cameras have to reset then to film Ru’s entrance into the Werk Room, and catch all the queens’ “surprised” reactions.

“Hello hello hello, kitty girls!”

Nina beams, claps his hands, that whole production. He’s feeling pretty good though - the energy is real. He’s actually excited for this challenge, ready to show Ru what he can do. (That’s how he felt last year too, then Silky went and yanked the win right out from under him. But no time to dwell on that now.)

“How are my All Stars? I thought I’d take a little look-see at what you were planning for us. And I brought along one of our extra special guest judges to help me out.”

From behind Ru, Katya Zamolodchikova comes in waving and smiling, teeth glowing white against her red lipstick.

“Oh my god! Get your own thing!” Trixie yells from across the room, and Katya does that ridiculous/adorable silent laugh that Nina has seen on “UNHhhh” too many times to count.

“Thanks for coming, Katya!” Ru says cheerfully.

“No problem, Ru. Thanks for unlocking the attic door!”

“Well, it was a special occasion. And I was feeling generous.”

They go from station to station, cameras following them around silently, and Nina fusses a bit with his dress while eavesdropping on their conversations with the other queens. There is a bit of concern for Brooke, who’s playing Detox (no big surprise there). How is Brooke going to make Detox funny seems to be the main issue. Nina has the same question. Brooke seems more confident than last season, though, so Ru and Katya wish him luck.

There’s some controversy over Nina Bo’nina playing Jasmine again, but the girl won’t be convinced to try something else. Nina listens to some of the critiques, ignores some of the others. He’s interested, but he also knows he needs to focus on his own performance, and not get in his head. He’s not as bad as Brooke at over-thinking things, but no one goes into goddamn musical theatre who isn’t at least a little bit destroyed (psychologically speaking. Okay, maybe also a bit romantically. It’s fine).

“Nina West!” Ru says close to Nina’s ear, and he almost jumps a foot in the air. (Girl, Katya is standing four feet away from you, be cool, be cool.)

“Hello, hello, hello Christine,” he says, immediately launching into his Vanjie impression. Both Ru and Katya laugh - and Katya’s smile up close is completely unfair, like a smile cut out of paper, perfect and sharp-edged.

(“I don’t know her!” Vanjie shouts from across the room.)

“So who are you going to be?” Katya asks, completely straight-faced, as soon as she and Ru have stopped laughing.

“I don’t know, still making up my mind,” Nina says, back in his normal voice.

“And the uh -” Ru gestures to the hideous floral Barbie dress, “gown?”

“Do you like it? One of my best gowns. What’s funny?”

Katya is wheeze-laughing. Katya is wheeze-laughing because of something Nina said! He stores that one next to the Monét gem from earlier; hopes to have enough for his own tiara in the unthinkable event that he doesn’t win.

“Now on Season 11’s Snatch Game, you were hilarious, you played -”

“Harvey Fierstein and Jo Anne Worley-”

“Yes! And really, it might have been one of the strongest performances in Snatch Game herstory.”

Nina smiles gratefully (only slightly furious that Ru’s saying this despite the fact that Nina didn’t win. He deserved to win).

“So how can you possibly outdo yourself this time?”

“I’m not trying to outdo myself, I’m trying to do something different. Like Katya, when you played Björk -”

“Yes, yes, back to me,” Katya says, nodding.

“Completely different from Suze Orman, but still so funny. That’s what I’m going to do. Just - mix it up.”

“All right, Nina, good luck. Can’t wait to see it,” Ru says, moving on.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

As soon as Ru and Katya leave the Werk Room it’s a mad dash to get dressed and made up and before Nina knows it, before he can light a bunch of candles on an altar and find whatever religion will bring him the most luck, they’re all being rounded up and led into the studio for the Snatch Game.

Okay.

Brooke’s Detox look is iconic, the yellow and black striped bandage dress from the Season 5 premiere (probably borrowed from Detox herself) hugs his perfectly padded body, but he’s absolutely trembling as he walks beside Nina. Nina has to squeeze his shoulder, tell him it’ll be fine.

“It’s fun, Brooke. Just have fun with it,” he murmurs as he hits the bright studio lights, has to blink until his vision adjusts (the first thing he sees is Monét and Nina’s blinded by him).

Okay.

The mentors are sitting along the sidelines, ready to watch the show play out. Nina wasn’t expecting that, but it’s - fine. Monét smiles at him, and Nina’s going to use that smile as a good luck charm - a rabbit’s foot, a four leaf clover, whatever. It’s impossible not to feel lucky when someone who looks like Monét goddamn X Change smiles at you like that.

“Welcome to the first All Stars ‘Queens Everywhere’ Snatch Game!” Ru says after they’re all mic’d and seated, upbeat music playing behind him. “Let’s meet our contestants.”

Katya beams from where she’s sitting behind her glittery podium and microphone.

“It’s everyone’s favorite queen that we found digging in the dumpster outside - Katya!”

“And yet I’m still hungry!”

Katya smiles at Ru and then snaps her teeth at the other queens.

“And - just when you thought we’d finally seen the last of her - halleloo! It’s Shangela!”

Shangela raises one hand in the air, nodding seriously. “That’s right, I’m back again, bitches. And I ain’t even in a box this time, baby.”

“Ladies, are you ready to meet the queens?”

“Yaaaaaaaaaas,” they answer in tandem.

They reset so that Ru can film the introductions, and Nina’s heart starts rattling like bones in a bag. He’s buzzing with adrenaline and nerves, but he’s going to channel that into a goddamn win. That’s right, he tells his inner saboteur - you can fuck off. This challenge is mine.

“The heart of Season 10 - Monique Heart is here!” Ru starts with Asia, whose Monique look is extremely correct.

“Hello world! Hello America! Are you brown cow stunning?” She tosses Ru a ridiculous cow-patterned baseball cap. Ru briefly feigns excitement before throwing it over his shoulder in distaste.

“Burn that,” he murmurs to one of the camera crew. “Next up, we have the original party-queen - Adore Delano!”

Shea Coulee stretches her arms in the air before making a peace sign, growling “Party,” in a gravelly voice.

“How are you doing Adore?”

“I mean, I’m good, you know? Like. Excited to be back. Where am I again?”

Nina has to turn his mouth into his shoulder to stifle the laugh that bubbles to his throat immediately. He wasn’t sold on it when they were discussing it in the Werk Room, but Shea is killing it as Adore. Her voice, her delivery is hilarious. The makeup is flawless. Her perpetual open mouth is complete perfection. As always, Shea Coulee is slaying the competition. Nina’s stomach gives a nervous jolt, so he sucks in a deep breath and reminds himself to pay attention.

He realizes he’s missed Ivy’s introduction, but Katya is gagged at the illusion of, well - Her - that Ivy is turning today. A mid-length honey blonde wig barely brushes Ivy’s shoulders and her red bustier is covered in rhinestones (and, of course, the scythe and hammer.) The look is great. The accent, on the other hand… Nina sighs a little, but tries not to get comfortable, regardless of how terrible Ivy’s Russian accent is.

Vanjie is seated at the end of the top row, decked out in red lace, a large pair of dark sunglasses balanced precariously on her nose. There’s no denying the air about her: Miss Vanjie is living Miss Valentina’s French vanilla fantasy, and no one could doubt it.

Ru beams at him. “Valentina! How wonderful to see you again!”

Vanjie draws in a deep breath. “That’s right, Ru, it’s me - Valentina. I’m back, and this time, I just want you to know, I fully learned all the words to ‘Greedy.’”

“Excellent! You want to sing us a verse right now?”

“No,” Vanjie answers, extremely primly, and even in his gravelly voice, the delivery is enough to make Ru laugh.

“Maybe next time.”

“Probably not.”

Then Ru’s looking at Nina and - oh, god, why did he think coming back for All Stars was a good idea again?

“Miss Vaaaaaanjie is here!” Ru trills.

Nina sucks in a deep breath and - “What’s the grease, mama?”

Down the row, Brooke buries his face in his hands, but his shoulders bounce with laughter. Ru is giggling loudly. Even Katya and Shangela are agape at the spot-on impression like it’s the first time he’s done it, the first time they’ve heard it.

He lets himself relax a little.

“Three seasons in a row.” Ru consults his cue cards. “Girl, aren’t you tired of competing yet?”

“Mmhmm.” Nina shakes his head vehemently, the wig he pilfered from Vanjie weeks ago flying around his shoulders. (He really does owe Brooke one for that.) “Nah, girl, you know I’m still trying to get my own show. Like Vanjie of Love or some shit like that. You know, something where these triflin’ hos gotta pay me some damn attention.”

In his periphery, Nina catches Brooke cut his eyes to him. He hopes this is okay. They haven’t really discussed the Branjie territory in regards to his jokes, but he kind of assumed it was fair game. Besides, he isn’t planning on directly hurting anyone’s feelings. He’ll keep it light, keep it fun. Besides, they’re the ones who marketed their portmanteau and gave the profits to charity. It’s practically public domain at this point.

“Next up we’ve got - oh my goodness, it’s Jasmine Masters!”

Nina Bo’nina gives Ru an extremely “over it” look. “Yeah, and I got something to say.”

“Now Jasmine - no tea, no shade, but haven’t you been on Snatch Game before?”

There’s a bit of an awkward pause before Nina Bo’nina waves him away.

“Bitch, I’ve got something more to say.”

Ru chuckles a bit, “I bet you do,” and moves on to Brooke.

“Another former All Star contestant, welcome Detox!”

Brooke looks sullen and concerned. He gives a little nod at Ru and the contestants.

“Detox, what’s the matter? You don’t look happy to be here.”

“Oh, am I not smiling?” Brooke asks through his extremely full, painted-on lips. “I can’t feel anything above my neck.” He shapes his mouth into a grotesque smile using his hands, and Ru almost doubles over. Okay, okay. Nina feels a little less worried about Brooke.

“And last but not least, we have - um, Aquaria! Hey girl!”

“Hi Ru!”

“Aquaria, is that the new way you’re spelling your name?” Cracker has written Acwareea on her name-card. A couple letters are backwards.

“Huh?” Cracker looks down at the name card. “Oh, I can’t spell my name. Actually, I can’t spell anything.”

“Okay then.”

“You know, some girls chose to read books, I chose to turn looks.”

“Yeah, you did! Now let’s get ready to play the Snatch Game!”

They break for a few adjustments on the cameras and microphones, and Nina tries not to hyperventilate, and then fuck - they’re rolling again.

“Here we go. The first question is for Katya. Katya, All Stars Season 1 paved the way, and brought back some of the most celebrated queens of all time to compete. This time, instead of competing in pairs, the queens are competing in BLANK.”

Be funny, be funny, be fucking funny. Nina tries to think like Vanjie and writes down an answer as soon as he’s got one, hoping it will be good enough.

“Okay, pens down. Katya?”

“I said competing in traction.”

“In - traction?”

“Yeah, you know, when all the bones in your body are broken and you’re in the hospital bed with your leg in the air.”

“That would certainly be a different kind of competition.”

“I’d watch it,” Katya says seriously, and Ru laughs.

“Let’s go to the Queens and see if we have any matches. Miss Valentina. What did you write down?”

Vanjie has put a lace mask on over the bottom of her face. She mumbles something indecipherable.

“What was that?” Ru asks. Vanjie mumbles something again.

“Valentina,” Ru says, clearly picking up on the joke. “Take that thing off your face.”

“I’d like to keep it on please.”

Ru shakes his head slowly, and at last Vanjie removes her mask.

“Now, Valentina. What did you write?”

Vanjie flips her card over, and Ru starts to wheeze with laughter. “That’s what I wrote down. I’d like to keep it on please.“

Vanjie’s Valentina voice is slipping, but she’s hella charming anyway, as always.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but that is not a match. Moving on to Aquaria - oh! You’ve got a new outfit.”

Miz Cracker was scrambling to put on a new wig and geometric headpiece made of iPhones while Ru was speaking to the contestants. She looks great, and she’s killing Aquaria’s affected head wobble.

“This season the queens are competing in BLANK.”

Cracker flips her card to reveal Aquaria’s instagram URL. “I wasn’t born when All Stars Season 1 aired, so I just wrote this.”

“Oh, okay - not a match.”

“I’m young,” Cracker insists, and Ru nods, patiently.

“We all were once. What did Miss Vaaaaanjie have to say?”

“I said we’d have to compete in swimsuits,” Nina says, flipping over his card.

“Swimsuits?”

“Yeah. Cause maybe then Michelle won’t read my ass for filth every damn week.”

Ru gapes at him, like he can’t believe he just came for Michelle in Snatch Game.

“Swimsuits be glamor when everybody else is doing them too, bitch!” Nina pops his tongue.

Ru laughs, high and clear, and then turns to the other Nina. “What about you, Jasmine? What do you have to say?”

Nina Bo’nina slaps her hands on the table and purses her lips. “We gonna be competing in making viral videos to get Justin Bieber’s attention, Ru.”

The room — pauses while Ru tries to save face with a polite chuckle. Nina West can practically hear the shade rattle sound effect that will inevitably be edited in at this exact moment.

Jasmine Masters probably wasn’t Nina Bo’nina’s best option (anyone could have told her that and, good god girl, they really tried). It’s not working. Nina doesn’t think any of it’s working.

Ru clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m certain you could teach them a thing or two about that, but unfortunately, it’s not a match.”

Nina Bo’nina shrugs.

Ru shuffles his cue cards and moves on. “This next question is for Shangela. In All Stars Season 2, we changed things up by letting the queens choose who would be eliminated. This season, as well as eliminating each other, the queens will have to BLANK each other.”

There’s the scribbling of markers from the queens around Nina (who like to think he’s got this answer down blind.)

“Okay, pens down. Shangela? This season, the queens will also have to…”

“I knew what y’all were looking for, because y’all are nasty…” Shangela turns her card around. “But I’m a lady, so I said they’d have to ‘tuck’ each other.”

“Tuck each other!”

“Sometimes a girl needs a helping hand, mama.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Let’s see if we have any matches! Katya, what did you say?”

Ivy looks a bit startled to be called on first, but she beams with her red lips, flips her card over. “I said eat each other. To consume each other’s power and fill the gaping void that lives -” She pats her chest. “Right here.”

Katya (the real Katya) shrieks, but Ru shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, that’s not a match.”

“Da,” Ivy says solemnly, in her terrible Russian accent. “Da. It never is match. Like me and Trixie. Match but… No match.”

And, okay, Nina might imagine it, but it seems like the studio goes eerily quiet as everyone waits for Trixie’s reaction. She’s smiling, but it looks forced. Katya clears her throat but laughs, which seems to dispel the weird tension that formed.

Ru, oblivious to the entire thing, moves on. “Miss Vaaaanjie, what did you say?”

Nina sighs and flips his card, feeling pretty pleased with himself. “I said date each other. You know, I still be lookin’ for that Notebook shit.”

“Oh yeah, we know. No more Post-Its, right?”

“No more Post-Its, never again. I ain’t got the time, Mary!” He glances over at Brooke, raises his eyebrows seductively. “Hey, how you doin’?” Behind him, the real Vanjie mumbles something under his breath.

“I’m sorry, my dear, that’s not a match.”

“Bitch, it might be!” Nina says, still looking at Brooke, and Ru bends over laughing, stomping his foot into the ground. It’s adrenaline, it’s power, it’s like Nina knows this challenge is his.

“You ain’t even know!” he continues, channeling angry Vanessa as much as possible. “Just ‘cause one tall blonde bitch did me wrong don’t mean they all will. Shit.” Nina crosses his arms over his chest, leans back in his chair, sees Brooke duck his head and blink rapidly a few times.

That might have been too much. He just got caught in the moment and… Fuck. Dial it back a little, but stay focused.

“Moving on to Aquaria,” Ru says. Aquaria, this season the queens will have to BLANK each other.”

“I said ‘copy each other,” Cracker says tightly, in Aquaria’s low voice. “And it’s too bad Miz Cracker isn’t here. Maybe then she would have won something.”

“Oho!” Ru laughs, a bit scandalized. “Not a match, my dear.”

Cracker shrugs and throws the card over her shoulder. “Someone save that so I can call and ask Cracker if she wants more of my sloppy seconds.”

“Adore Delanoooo!” Ru trills the last syllable as he turns to Shea, who tosses the long green waves over her shoulder.

She flashes Ru one of Adore’s signature winking, mouth-open, tongue-out smiles with a peace sign.

“What did you write down, darling?”

“I said ‘party with each other,’” Shea drawls in Adore’s affected tone, adding more fry than is entirely necessary, but it gets the point across. She’s goofy and perfect.

“Party with each other,” Ru repeats.

“Yeah! I mean, you guys all look super cool. I’d hang out with you, smoke a blunt, eat some pizza. You know, party!”

Ru tsks. “Sounds like a great Tuesday night, but unfortunately not a match.” He turns to face the contestants, where Katya is sitting with her hands folded primly on her stack of cards. “Back to Katya! In All Stars Season 3, BenDeLaCreme shocked the judges by sending herself home. This season, Michelle Visage will shock everyone by BLANKING herself.”

Katya takes a minute to ponder, pressing her index finger to her lips then writes something on her card. Nina and the other queens follow suit, and when their time is up, Katya is smiling ferociously.

“Let’s see what our contestant put down. Katya?” Ru faces her. “Michelle Visage will shock everyone by doing what?”

Katya clears her throat. “I could have gone the obvious route, you know.”

“Obviously,” Ru says.

“Instead, I said, ‘sacrificing herself.’”

“Sacrificing herself?”

“With fire. To the Gods, honey.”

“Okay… Any particular God?”

“…Satan.”

“Of course. Let’s go to our queens. Detox, this season Michelle Visage will shock everyone by…”

Brooke flips his card over. “I said motorboating herself. I mean, if anyone could do it -”

“I don’t know how shocking that would be… but either way, I’m sorry, not a match. Vanessa Vanjie Mateo! What did you say, my dear?”

Nina flips over his card. “I said cloning herself.”

“Cloning herself?”

“Mmm-hmm. Need two of her to manage your ass.”

Ru laughs, and Nina thanks every God he knows the name of. The burn landed!

“And now she got that done, she’s gonna clone me some Canadian bacon.”

“Is that right?”

“Hell yeah it is.” Nina does not look at Brooke or Vanjie. “But only the good parts, baby. Trim all the fat; I’m a growing girl, need more protein in my diet.”

“Bitch, you couldn’t handle that much protein,” Vanjie-as-Valentina cuts in, and Ru fans himself.

“A controversial question! Let’s go to Monique Heart, see what she said. Michelle Visage will shock everyone by…”

“I said believing in herself.” Asia-as-Monique-turns her face to the camera. “Like I believe in myself, America. And that’s why I’d like to take this moment to announce my run for office.”

“Which office is that?”

“Whichever.” Asia’s got Monique’s flighty passion down perfectly. “One of the big ones, you know. And thank you, America, for your trust. I won’t let you down.”

Ru reads the last question of the night. “In All Stars Season 4, history was made when we celebrated the first Drag Race double crowning. This season, we’ll be making history with a double BLANK.”

Shangela is already shaking her head knowingly. There’s a scrabble of writing from the queens.

“Ladies, pens down. Shangela?”

“I’m giving the people what they want, Ru. I ain’t proud. I had to say a double fisting.”

“Did you really have to say it though?”

“Actually, mama, I did. The PAs have my children.”

“Ha! All right ladies, let’s see if we have any matches. Adore Delano. This season we’ll be making history with the first double BLANK.”

Shea holds up her card proudly. “I said the first double… elimination.”

Ru is quiet for a moment. “That’s actually been done before.”

“It has?”

“A couple of times, actually.”

“Oh.” Shea is unfazed. “Well. I don’t watch the show.”

Ru wheeze laughs, and so does Nina.

“I mean, I don’t know who any of you people are.”

“Sorry, Adore. Not a match.”

Shea shrugs, flashes a peace sign.

“What about you Katya?” Ru moves over to Ivy.

“Well, I thought about what Trixie and I like to do behind the scenes of ‘UNHhhh’ and I just had to put - fisting!” She flips her card.

“It’s a match!” Ru exclaims.

Everyone is laughing, but Nina can’t help check out the subjects of Ivy’s joke. The real Katya Zamo is smiling but - her teeth look clenched. And over with the mentors, Trixie Mattel is not smiling at all. She’s staring at her hands in her lap, systematically picking at the baby pink polish that adorns her fingernails. Hopefully none of the cameras pick up on that.

“I’ll see you later tonight!” Ivy continues, pointing at Trixie. There’s a halfway amused smile on Trixie’s face right away, but Nina feels like he was punched in the stomach. Something’s going on between the two of them, clearly. It hurts to watch - not like watching Vanjie and Brooke hurts (that’s more like watching two attractive bricks smash together). But Trixie and Katya - there’s so much history there. So much darkness. And God knows enough people have been convinced they’re in love -

“Monique Heart, what did you put down? This season we’ll be making history with the first double BLANK.”

“I said the first double crowning, dahling.”

“I’m sorry Monique, we already did that as well.”

“I know y’all did it, but I feel like it didn’t really count because my ass wasn’t wearing one of those crowns. It should have been me, and that’s a fact, America. And facts are - what? Facts.”

Ru laughs for a moment before turning to Nina. “What about Miss Vaaaanjie?”

“I said the first double wedding. And before y’all even ask: I do.” Nina glances over at Brooke, hoping he isn’t hitting this note a bit too hard.

“You do? Who’s the other happy couple?”

Ivy interrupts before Nina can answer. “Trixie! I’ve been meaning to ask you!”

“Oh honey,” Trixie calls out, looking flushed and uncomfortable. “I know I said I’d give more to charity this year, honey, but my generosity has limits.”

Behind her podium, Katya’s face is absolutely expressionless.

“Well, queens, we’re out of time,” Ru announces. “Which means the winner is… Xanax! Talk to your pharmacist. See you next time on the Snatch Game!”

Nina throws ‘deuces’ at the cameras as they get some closing B-roll, keeping up his Vanjie-persona until the very end. As soon as the director yells “cut!” Nina lets out the breath he’s been holding for the past two hours. God, it went by fast, but now he’s feeling every second of it. His muscles ache like he ran a marathon this morning and then tried kick-boxing for the first time.

“Nice work, ladies,” P.A.’s are congratulating them as they leave the set, but Nina barely hears a word. He de-drags, does some of the talking head interviews he loves so much (has to look shady about Nina B.’s performance, and worried about Brooke. Nina doesn’t put on an act or anything - he is kinda worried about Brooke. Brooke did ‘okay’ - better than Celine for sure - but didn’t stand out the way some of the other queens did. And if Brooke goes home tomorrow night - fuck. Nina doesn’t quite know how he feels about that).

Brooke was also kind of weird as they took off their paint in the Werk Room. Nina thought at first that he was in his head about the Snatch Game, but now he’s starting to wonder if his answers as Vanjie might have fucked Brooke up a bit. He hasn’t had a chance to address it, but he’s going to have to tomorrow, just to make sure they’re cool. He thinks it will be okay. He’s pretty sure. Basically. Almost positive.

Nina might be working through some latent confidence issues as he pushes himself for four miles on the elliptical later that night in the hotel (work through the pain, he reminds himself), but it’s fine really. Nothing to see here. Move along.

His legs ache and his face drips sweat, but he feels—good, actually. Solid about his performance. (He did last year, too, but he’s trying not to think about that.)

Dolly is singing about ways to make a living in his ears. He’s not assuming - but he is preparing. Just in case. If he has to lipsync for his legacy, he wants to be ready. Wants to win this one more than any other challenge, and call him crazy, but he feels like there’s a real chance. He can’t pinpoint why exactly, but there’s some kind of feeling settling down into his bones, making him think that maybe maybe maybe—

Underneath that, something uncomfortable has wormed its way into his psyche. It has almost nothing to do with the actual competition. It’s stupid and predictable and oh-so-not what he should be concerned with while on the set of All Stars for Christ’s sake. But he is and he’s here and he’s feeling things, and Nina taught himself a long time ago that feeling things fully for a while and then letting them go is far more beneficial to his mental health than taking the Brooke route and bottling everything up and burying it under vodka cranberries and couch cushions.

So sure. Okay. He’s feeling some kind of way about this thing that he saw that he wasn’t even supposed to see and isn’t even any of his business, but that’s just Nina’s luck for you. So that’s what he focuses on (or tries not to) as he turns up the resistance and pushes through the last of his workout.

He’d risked a glance back at Monét right before the PAs had shoved them off the soundstage. He’s in the business of gem collecting now, savoring those moments, polishing them up for later use, and maybe he wanted a ruby tinted the exact shade of Monét’s lipstick as they’d smiled across the room at each other.

Instead, he’d seen Monét reaching out to Shangela, crimson lips puckered, arms outstretched, ready for the kiss Nina couldn’t make himself watch.

Maybe they had kissed, Nina didn’t know; he’d made himself turn away before he could inflict any more psychological damage on himself. (He’s choosing healthier options now, remember.)

Of course they hadn’t had a moment after the last runway. Why would he think that? When Monét could have anyone he wants, and Nina is practically an amorphous blob. Like. He knows drag queens are all touchy-cuddly most of the time, and he knows that there’s probably nothing going on between Monét and pretty, perfect, halleloo-ing Shangela. But there could be, right? And goddamn, that would actually make sense. As opposed to whatever madness was going on in Nina’s head last night.

He adds even more resistance to the elliptical - just for “fun.” Or maybe spite. And yeah, okay, one night of really solid work in the hotel gym isn’t going to turn him into Naomi Smalls with legs up to his asshole or anything, but it’s a start. And the sooner Nina can convince himself that he isn’t doing this for Monét (or anyone other than himself because he likes exercise, damn it), the better.

He’s a grown-ass adult. He recognizes delusion when he sees it in the mirror every morning. It’s time to face facts—he and Monét had one (wondrously) sensual, albeit (incredibly) drunken night months ago. Monét had left the ball in Nina’s court. Nina was too chickenshit to do anything about it. Now they’re tentative friends (Monét is his mentor after all), Nina might be going crazy (this whole bursting-into-song-but-not-really thing has gone too far), and it’s all just so messy.

Nina wipes his face, stretches, and heads out of the hotel gym. He probably looks like a sweaty disaster (okay, there’s no ‘probably’ about it) and he’s waiting for the elevator down to the floor with his room, when the doors “ding” open and he’s face to face with Monét.

Could be worse. Could be Branjie again.

“Get in loser, we’re going drinking!” Monét says, with a wide smile on his face.

He’s so fucking charming that Nina momentarily forgets that he himself is a hot damn mess. Literally, like hot. Dripping with sweat.

“Um.” He gets into the elevator anyway because - he’s gotta go somewhere. “Are we?”

“If you want.” Monét gets strangely shy as soon as the elevator doors close. Or maybe that’s just in Nina’s mind. “Was the Mean Girls reference too much? I feel like maybe it’s played out.”

Nina laughs out loud, awkwardness momentarily forgotten. Monét never seems anything but confident and composed, and that one moment of doubt is - surprisingly endearing.

Not that confident, composed Monét isn’t completely endearing as well. Like. It’s all good. It all works a little too well for Nina. Everything about Monét is working a little too well for Nina lately.

Shit, the elevator is moving, decision-making time is limited.

“I kinda look like - this?” Nina waves a hand at his damp self.

“Fine as hell, girl,” Monét says with a grin, “and no pressure, obviously. Though if I’m drinking alone at the hotel bar, it’s going to look a little sad. And, look, I can make sad work for me, that’s not a problem. But after the day I’ve had -”

“Oh, the day you’ve had. Yeah, I forgot how stressful it must have been. Competing on a reality show and all that.”

“Fuck off. Uh oh, we’re passing your floor -”

“How do you know which floor is mine?”

Monét blinks at him, briefly speechless, mouth agape. (It makes something spark like a firework in Nina’s chest, shoot colours across the night sky.) The moment passes and then Monét doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, just smiles like a gorgeous monster as he taps his temple. “That’s classified mentor information.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah. You don’t want to know about my top-secret dossier.”

“No, I - don’t.”

“You sure you don’t?” Monét winks at him, and the elevator dings as it reaches the ground floor. “Ah, shit, missed your stop. Better come do shots with me.”

“I mean, I could just press the button again.” Nina doesn’t know why he’s resisting, he wants to get tipsy with Monét more than he wants to do most things (aside from win All Stars and run for office someday maybe).

“Nah, girl, this elevator only goes down. One-way elevator. Sorry, should have told you.”

“Guess I’m out of options.”

“Guess so.”

They look at each other. Nina remembers the man that asked him up to his room the night of the finale. Nina remembers the taste of his mouth, the way Monét kept kissing him, like he couldn’t get enough. Nina -

- is clearly exhausted. And still delusional. But fuck it.

They go to the hotel bar (isn’t this how all the bad stories start?) and Monét buys them both a tequila sunrise and tells Nina way more than he should about Trixie Mattel.

“So her man and her are split. She’s feeling some kind of way about it.”

“Of course she is. Haven’t they been together for, like, ever?”

“Something like that. Fuck.” Monét drains his drink, motions for another round. “We’ve been talking about it, but I’m not - you know. I love her, she’s incredible, but - I’m not - her best friend.”

“You’re not Katya,” Nina says quietly, and Monét scrubs his hands over his face.

“Yeah. That.”

“So why isn’t she talking to Katya, then? You guys have your phones; Katya’s here now, for Christ’s sake.”

Monét shrugs. “Beats me.”

“Are they -” Nina doesn’t have any right to this information, but - he figures that Monét wants to talk about it. “Potentially… do you think -”

“Who the fuck knows? Honestly, when I said I’d come back to do this show, I did not think it would be like being in high school again. Like who is crushing on who, who is hooking up, it -” He darts a look over at Nina and then snaps his mouth shut. “I mean.”

Nina looks away. Finishes his second drink a bit too quickly. “You want another?”

“Okay,” Monét answers before Nina can even finish the sentence.

The bartender is particularly attentive, gets another round in front of them right away. He’s got a lot of smiles for them both, says, “This round’s on me, I’m a huge fan,” as he walks off to help another customer, and Nina - can’t help it, he’s a masochist - raises an eyebrow at Monét.

“Think you’ve got an admirer.”

“Yeah?” Monét rolls his eyes. “More like you do.”

“Should we turn this into an awful romantic comedy where we make a bet about who he likes more?”

Monét laughs like he’s shocked at himself. “Girl! Okay, but what happens at the end? Who wins?”

“Well, if we’re following the formula, we probably both realize that real love was right in front of - you know, I don’t know. You, you win.” Fuck fuck fuck, what the hell is Nina even saying? He watched too many Hallmark movies last Christmas. “That voice, that ass, right?” He tries to make it into a joke, even with Monét’s eyes all honeyed and serious on his face.

Monét purses those perfect lips, presses them into a semi-smile. “Just… didn’t want to assume nothing.”

They talk for another couple drinks, and it’s - shit, it’s easy. It’s never this easy with someone Nina likes. He knows he can be funny, knows he can bring out the charm (with the right amount of alcohol in his system) but usually if there are feelings involved it all goes to hell. Nina gets weird and in his head and laughs too loudly and spills his drink everywhere.

But with Monét - it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be this easy, especially with all the longing covering up the background like terrible flowered wallpaper. It shouldn’t be this easy for Nina to stop over-thinking things and just exist in the presence of this gorgeous person.

But it is. It is easy. That’s the worst part of it all.

Monét is laughing and grabbing for his arm (just like finale night in the other hotel bar) and there’s heat in Nina’s cheeks that isn’t just from the alcohol, and Monét’s lips are glistening and wet as he pulls the straw between them and sips every last bit of the cocktail into his mouth.

Nina swallows thickly, leans into the sound of Monét’s deep rumbling laugh, reaches for his knee when he starts to slip off the hotel barstool.

How many drinks are they in now? Four? Five? More? The room is spinning.

Nina is laughing. Light, airy. Not giggling exactly but laughing and his cheeks are burning and Monét is looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“Be careful, Nina West,” Monét says, and his voice is low and dangerous. “Be careful lookin’ at people like that. They might get… ideas.”

Nina’s breath hitches in his throat and he swallows hard. “Ideas?”

“I might get ideas.” Monét smiles crookedly; his eyes are half-closed and sleepy as he rests his chin on his hand and leans against the bar. “You never texted me.”

Nina’s so glad he’s drunk. So glad he missed his floor, even if it has led to this. Because this conversation, this thing has hung between them for the entirety of filming and it hasn’t been uncomfortable exactly (because they’re adults, thank you very much), but it hasn’t been wonderful either. And Nina more than anything wants to rewind back to May, go to lunch, talk about anything and everything and nothing with Monét until they fall back into hotel sheets and kiss and kiss and kiss until—

“Why didn’t you ever text me?”

Nina clears his throat. “I was… I… I wanted to.”

“But?” Monét’s eyes are wide and pleading now. Still glassy with the alcohol, but inquisitive, bright, waiting to see how Nina is going to explain himself.

Nina is too, to be honest.

So he shakes his head. “I don’t know. Honestly. I don’t have a good reason. I wanted to. I should have.”

Monét ducks his head, takes the paper straw from his drink and twirls it between his middle and ring finger. It sends tiny droplets of tequila sunrise all over the wooden bartop.

“I thought about that night a lot, Nina West,” Monét says quietly, wiping at the droplets with a damp beverage napkin. “I don’t do that. That’s not like me.”

“Me either,” Nina says.

Nina knows that if they were sober this would be a very different conversation. There would definitely be more emotions, there might even be some yelling (although that doesn’t really seem like Monét’s thing and he’s never been one to raise his voice, so maybe not). Either way, they aren’t sober, and now they’re the sleepy kind of drunk and exhausted, so they just sit there at the bar staring at each other, not sure what to say next.

“Why’d you pick me?” Nina finally asks. “For the competition? Because of… that night?”

Monét shrugs and pulls his credit card out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Just wanted to win, girl. That’s it.”

“Shit, I don’t have—”

Monét waves him off. “I got it. Consider it after-hours mentoring.”

Nina thanks him repeatedly as they stand (clumsily) and make their way out of the hotel bar (stumblingly) and back to the elevator. When the doors shut behind them, Nina has a brief flash of all the things that two consenting adults can get up to in an elevator (some of which he has seen in recent days). But no. No. They had their chance, right? The ship has sailed.

Nina’s room is a few floors beneath the mentors’ (apparently), so he steps off before Monét.

“Can you find your way back to your room?” Monét asks, and Nina wishes he could says ‘no. No, I’m going to get completely lost, no, I’ll fall down every two steps if I don’t have you holding me up. No, I need you to linger in my doorway, I need to panic about whether I should try to kiss you goodnight, I need to think about inviting you in.

(I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t. So - unprofessional. But - it’d be nice to think about.)’

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I’ll manage.”

Monét grins. Nina likes to think there’s a bit of disappointment around the edges of it, but he’s also a couple drinks in, and wears the rosiest of glasses at the best of times.

“Thanks for the company and conversation, Nina West.”

Nina nods. Doesn’t touch him, doesn’t look over his shoulder at Monét as he leaves the elevator.

But he doesn’t go back to his room either.

He wanders the hotel. Presses the down button and gets on a different elevator a few minutes later.

Nina’s going to regret this tomorrow when he’s exhausted, but he just can’t imagine shutting himself in his dark little room and lying down right now. He’s vibrating, on edge. It’s a bad idea, because there’s nothing more depressing than a silent hotel after midnight - something about the lateness of the hour makes all the shine come off. Nina’s feet lead him down one hallway and down another, and he doesn’t realize he’s heading to their usual breakfast-conference room until he hears… music?

Yes, there’s definitely music coming out of there, the casual strumming of a stringed instrument that doesn’t have anywhere to go. Someone might be humming too, it’s hard to tell from a distance.

Nina follows the sound.

The door is open, just a bit, and all the lights are on. Sitting alone in the room is Trixie Mattel, bent in concentration over her autoharp.

Out of drag, she looks smaller, more vulnerable. It’s clear just how young she is. She’s picking at a tune, murmuring something under her breath. Nina suddenly feels a warm breeze against his skin, and the melody that Trixie’s playing becomes clearer, a delicate bluegrass riff that would be at home on Nina’s old Emmylou Harris or Linda Ronstadt records.

Along with the warm breeze comes a gust of dandelion seeds, floating through the hallway like tiny wisps of cotton. Nina feels like he’s alone with Trixie in the middle of a waving wheat field, sun-baked and desolate. He can smell the cracked soil beneath his feet, hear the sound of crickets chirping in time with Trixie’s brittle melody.

Oh no. That thing is happening again.

Trixie starts to sing:

“You’re the brightest star in any room.

I’m never lonelier than when I’m with you.

I miss something that’s never happened.

I miss a place I’ve never been to.”

Her voice is quiet at first, but it grows louder.

“There are some bridges that you cannot cross

Say it again ‘til I convince myself

But all this certainty it feels like loss.

I wouldn’t risk this much for no one else.”

Trixie gets to her feet, starts walking through the wheatfield as she sings the chorus.

“And there’s a wide field between us

How you traveled all those miles without me I don’t understand

I’m always on the edge of falling

And you could pull me over just by reaching out your hand

If you’d only take that chance.”

She keeps plucking at the harp, and Nina feels words welling up inside him, ready to spill from his mouth (when he starts singing, he’s thinking of Monét. Because of course he is.)

“This sort of thing, it don’t come easy

I never know just what to do or say

It feels impossible, believe me

That you would ever look at me that way.”

He thinks of Monét’s lips on Shangela’s after the Snatch Game. He thinks of Monét’s eyes on him at the bar. (“Be careful lookin’ at people like that, Nina West.”)

“There are some bridges that you cannot cross

I built up walls around this paper heart

But when I see you I forget it

All of the reasons we should be apart.”

Trixie harmonizes along with Nina as he sings the chorus.

“And there’s a wide field between us

How I traveled all these miles, baby, I don’t understand

I’m always on the edge of falling

And you could pull me over by just reaching out your hand

But could I ever take that chance?”

Nina sings the last line one more time, feeling the weight of his hopeless longing rising like a tide inside his chest. “If you’d only take that chance…”

“Nina?”

“Um.”

Trixie is sitting in the conference room, staring at him. She’s holding her autoharp but there’s no flowing wheatfields or whatever. Somehow Nina ended up in the doorway, just standing there. Fuck’s sake. Is he dissociating? Musically??? This is unbearable.

“How long have you been there?” Trixie asks, confused.

“Um, just got - here, so -” Nina’s face is probably turning bright red, and he’s hoping against that he hasn’t just been shouting song lyrics blankly at a terrified Trixie Mattel for the past few minutes. “Are you okay?”

Trixie winces. Then she nods.

“Yeah, of course. Just - yes. Couldn’t sleep. Figuring some - stuff out. You?”

“Just - you know. Having an emotional spiral.”

“Oh honey…” Trixie’s smiling but her voice is soft and sad. “My first perm was an emotional spiral, honey.”

Nina laughs in a brittle way, because 1) Trixie’s hilarious and 2) it’s obvious she’s trying to make him feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” Trixie sighs, shakes her head. “But thanks.”

Nina leaves her to it. After - whatever that just was - he feels ready to crash at long last. He’s still a bit buzzed from the tequila, but his nervous energy has banked, and he heads back to his room. He’s ready to sleep, ready to deal with tomorrow when it gets here.

So of course, there’s someone waiting for him outside his room.

“Nina West.” Maya the P.A. gives him a slow, broad smile the moment he comes into view. “Found your way back, hey? Great. We need to talk.”

Interlude: Trixie

Conversation with:

swamp thing

i cunt believe i agreed to this

Fuck autocorrect CANT

It knows what you REALLY MEANT

It knew i was texting you and assumed

I’ll take it

You’ll take anything

I ain’t proud mama

I’m hunnnnnngry

For serious though, things okay there?

For serious serious

4 C-ri-us

GROSS

That’s gonna be my dj name

Please welcome to the stage

Why do I talk to you

Why do i even know you

Yes things are find its just weird

Being back on set

And like also runnign a business and

planning a tour and all of it. At least

they let us keep our phones

Must be hard being successful

I’m crying for you

I didn’t know you could still produce tears

I squeeze em out

Like milking a cow

Just need the right suction

Stop talking to me

What can you say that you won’t get sued for

I want drama

Who’s fisting who

Ha monet wishes she was fisting someone

Shes like middle school crushing on a queen here

Its kinda cute and sad

If love isn’t pathetic i don’t want it

And there’s last seasons whole thing

#branjie

sell those hats

That is not about hats

I saw them at a show in LA last summer

They’re fucked up in love, mama

IN LOVE???

Who even are you

I’m a person who has eyes

that can see things

Are they not together? They’re togther right?

NOPE

Are you fucking kidding

I don’t believe it

Since when are you this romantic

I’m not romantic

I have no romance in my bones

It’s just OBVIOUS

Well not to them

Ahhhh the gays

When will we figure our shit out

Realize what’s right in front of us

You gone?

Yeah sorry

Going to pass out

Don’t die or anything

Whiel i’m gone

Aren’t you sweet

Conversation with:

sure thing

Doing anything fun tonight?

Or just missing me

Babe?

Ok sorry filming again

Call you on break

Do not let me do this again

I don’t care what they offer me

(id o care what they offer me)

Breaks over talk to you after?

How was your day?

Call me if you want

I’m done for the night

Just getting white girl wasted alone

In my hotel room

At the mini bar yes i’m that famous now

I’m gonna crash call me if you get this

Love u

Conversation with:

swamp thing

I dreamt that i was in a bsatroom

At mcdonalds that one you puked in

After the show in philadelphia

Do you remember? Probably not

And you were there and fucking

Gordon ramsay was there (!!!)

And he wad hitting on you

And i wasd so pissed off

And thrn this lady came in and was like

‘You can’t be in here, this is for ronald only” And i fully shot her with a GUN

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN TRACY

I just woke up and feel like a monster

She was just doing her job

Ronald mcdonald needs his private shitter

And i just killed her

I killed a living dream person

Thank you for sharing this with me

I feel so close to you right now

Yeah i don’t confess dream murder

to just ayone

But WHAT DOES IT MEAN???

Latent Ronald mcdonald fetish

Clearly

I’m not a doctor or anythng

But i’m sorry you’re dying

Yep yep makes sense

I always knew it would end like this

fuck/marry/kill

me/gordan ramsay/ronald mcD

(you wanna know what the D stands for)

No i want to sleep

For 3 more hours

But i’m on reality tv again

You should havw stopped me

Maybe this dream was a warning!

I’m supposed to save you

From endng up on Chopped

What did you dream about?

U have to tell me even if it’s sexy

That’s the law

Another teeth falling out one

Mama you know that’s my kink

Conversation with:

sure thing

Good morning sexy thing

I’m so tiiiiiired

Don’t make me get up yet

Hey are u alive?

Yes

Yay u r alive!

I called u yesterday night

And at lunch

U ok?

Did u get my messages?

yes

Can i call you?

I miss your voice

I cant talk right now

Sorry

I’ll call you tonight

After filming?

Sure

Love u gorgeous

Hey just called left a message

Give me a shout later

I miss you

Brian

Have you seen the pics

from the MTV Movie Awards?

Ummm ok

No i’ll look them up

Fuck my lashes are so uneven

U breaking up with me over lashes

Lol

U and kat are pretty cuddly

Haha

are u being serious

Ur joking

Are u ok? Can i call u?

I’m out right now

Call you when i get home

But we’ve talked about this before right

U know we’re friends

Me and Kat

We’re just friends

U know this

Yeah i have lots of friends

And we don’t hold hands and kiss eachother

All the fucking time

So we’re fdoing this over text?

Is that what we’re doing

No i’ll call u later

Call me ok? I love u

U cannot be jealous of katya

She’s my Business Partner

And it’s DRAG

We touch each otehr all the time

We all do

Gotta go call u later

Conversation with:

swamp thing

Can we talk?

Not if ur busy

Let me just stop blowing this senator

And kick the clowns out

And get thes handcuffs off

No i’m not worth it

Keep these good things goin

It was winding down anyway

Gettin awkward

I have yoga tomorrow

Whats up pussycat

This is gonna sound really weird

Have you seen the pics of us

from the movie awwrds

Probably blocked them out

why????

am i like a troll

No more than usual

David texted me about them

And he’s all pissed off??

Because of us holding hands

Like so so stupid right

WHAT???!

Thats crazy!

Im so sorry

This isn’t the handmaids tale

He can calm his tits

(sorry, not to attack him just) Has he seen our shows??

What did you tell him

To fucking call me!!!

And he hasn’t

And i’m on this stupid set and can’t just go

See him and convince him how crazy he is

I’m so sorry

Do you want me to call him

I’ll call him

Tell me what to say

No don’t

Don’t worry

Its fine

I’ll talk to him

Conversation with:

swamp thing

Hey are you awake

If youre awake call me

david and I are done

over the phone

FUN

sorry you’re clearly asleep

I’m just a little drunk

brian

he said some things

that ive been thinking about

maybe call me tomorrow if u can

guess ill see you soon anyway

dont die while im gone

miss u

#rpdr fanfiction #nina west #monet x change #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #ninex #eventual branjie #background trixya #smut #angst #musical #all stars au #how far i'll go #hfig #mia ugly #meggie #concrit welcome #on set fic

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