#the red and green seemed a little too christmassy to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

berrynarrybanana · 4 years ago

Text

Holiday Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

A/N: This was meant to be a blurb, but I got carried away. I honestly don’t know how I feel about it, but I wanted to post some Christmassy stuff in between now and Deck the Halls, so here’s a little something. It’s basically over a thousand words of Harry pining for some girl he just met. That seems to be my favorite trope, yeah? Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I hope that you all remember that Christmas isn’t about what you have or what you’re able to give, it’s about spending time with the people you love the most. I’m always here for you all if you need me and I love you loads. Thank you!

Word Count: 5.1K+

Warnings: A little smut, pining, flash forward, ofc

Prompt: “You’re wearing the Santa hat, whether you like it or not” | Taken from this post here!

It wasn’t that Harry hated Christmas.

He loved spending time with his family, drinking mulled wine and talking shit with his Mum and Sister on the couch until the morning light. He loved the Christmas cookies that everyone seemed to bake just for him. Every single one of his friends would wrap them up in cute, candy cane striped cellophane bags with a little bow as if they were worried he’d been deprived of sweets. He loved the warmth that enveloped him when he stepped into any building, dodging the cold winter winds and brutal snowflakes that hit his skin. He loved most things about the season, but he truthfully hated the actual holiday itself.

He hated the music, each song covered by about twenty different artists, (yet, they always sounded the same, somehow), playing on a loop on every single Christmas station. He hated how rude people were in the shops and on the road, as if their time was more important than anyone else's. He hated the stigma around giving expensive gifts, stressing over the perfect thing to get each of his friends. If he could, he’d give them all something homemade, but he was shit at doing anything crafty.

His boots crunched against the snow as he walked towards his mother’s front door.

He let himself in, kicking his shoes off before he removed his scarf and his winter coat. He could hear laughter from the kitchen, Gemma and his Mum giggling far too loud. They must have cracked into the mulled cider a little early, and truthfully, he was jealous. He’d spent the last four hours stuck in traffic listening to white Christmas over and over and over again. He shut the front door as Evie wrapped herself around his legs, her soft purring catching his attention as he glanced down at the black and white kitten.

“Hiya, darling girl.” He crouched down, scooping her into his arms before he delivered a series of kisses over her head. “Daddy’s missed you, eh. Have you been good for your nan?”

She meowed in response, causing Harry to coo at her before he scratched under her chin.

“That’s my girl.” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head before setting her back to the ground.

He knew they would indulge in several cuddle sessions over the next few days, so he wasn’t worried about missing his one and only pet this holiday season. He walked through the house, finding his way into the kitchen where Gemma was tipping back a glass of dark red liquid, and his Mum was rolling out cookie dough with a bright smile on her face. What Harry wasn’t expecting, was the curly haired girl with a cookie cutter in her hand next to his Mum.

“Hello!” He called out, offering a smile as he walked over to the kitchen island. “I see we’ve started having fun already.”

“It took you forever to get here!” Gemma said defensively, picking up a chocolate kiss before tossing it at Harry. “Do you want a drink?”

“Something hot, it’s like the bloody tundra outside.” He shivered at the thought of the harsh wind, his eyes trailing back towards the new girl.

“Stella makes the best peppermint hot chocolate you’ve ever had in your life.” Gemma groaned out, her eyes rolling back in her head. “She puts peppermint vodka in there.”

“I can make you one if you’d like?” Stella’s voice was soft and painfully american. “We’ve got a slow cooker full of hot chocolate.”

“If you don’t mind.” Harry gave her a smile as he pulled out a stool, sitting next to Gemma. “Nice to meet you, Stella. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“She knows who you are.” Gemma reached over, pinching Harry’s side. “Stella is a new transfer at work. She’s new to England, and we thought we’d show her a proper English Christmas.”

“Stella, love, you should probably find another family to spend Christmas with if you want a proper English Christmas.” Harry snorted. “Ours is half arsed at best.”

“We have a lovely Christmas, thank you.” Anne piped up, flicking flour in Harry’s direction as Stella laughed softly. “Don’t scare the poor thing off, we’ve just made her feel at home.”

Stella turned her back, walking towards the stove.

“I suppose we do have a good time.” Harry hummed out. “I can’t wait to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the millionth time.”

“They’ve got an animated one now!” Gemma exclaimed. “We’re going to do a double feature.”

“Lovely.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Moments later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate laced was placed in front of Harry.

He looked down at the grinch mug before looking back up at Stella.

“Thanks.” He offered her a smile, but she merely nodded back at him before taking her place next to Anne again.

He watched her, sipping at his drink as Gemma and Anne chatted about some Hallmark movie that was meant to premiere at some point during the week. She wasn’t normally the type of girl that he dated, but he had to admit that she was beautiful. Her cheeks were round, a soft blush smeared over them that he assumed came from a makeup product. Her lashes were thick, and long, shadowing her hazel colored eyes. She had thick brows that seemed a little unruly, and plump lips stained with a plum colored lipstick that matched her smoky, purple eyeshadow. He wasn’t a huge fan of the plum color, but he had to admit that it brought out a lot of the warmer tones in her eyes and in her beautiful, brown skin. He also thought that it complimented the lighter strands in her curly brown hair that bounced about everytime she turned her head.

He tried not to be too obvious with his curious gaze, but he couldn’t help it. He was almost mesmerized by her beauty, but he was more so confused by his attraction to her. She was far too quiet for his taste, her eyes cast down on the cookies she’d been cutting out for the last few minutes while everyone else chatted.

He watched her place them on the tray carefully, obsessing over how they landed before she reached for the colored icing. He watched her pipe onto the little shapes, her tongue nestling in the corner of her mouth as her unsteady hands worked diligently on the cookies.

This was a Styles family Christmas, and the Styles were a rowdy and messy bunch. He’d never seen his Mum or Gemma put that much work into sugar cookies before, and it was almost painful to watch her perfect each and every one before she slipped the tray in the oven. He watched her reach for the cheeky little chicken shaped oven timer that Gemma bought when his Mum fist moved into this house. In all of those years, he’d never seen anyone actually use it.

“Did you hear me, my little turtle dove?” Anne brushed her hand over Harry’s back as he sipped at his cocoa. “They’re calling for a huge storm this weekend, are you packed for that?”

“I left some stuff here the last time I was around.” He turned his head, smiling back at her. “I think I should be fine if I get stuck with you lot.”

“Good.” She nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, Mumma.” He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her into a hug.

The warm scent of vanilla and musk greeted his senses, flooding him with comfort and nostalgic memories of cuddling with Mum on the couch. He missed having her around him. He missed having his best friend around to comfort him when he needed it the most. When he let go of her, his heart sank a little in his chest. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before moving back to work on more cookie dough.

“Why are you making so many cookies?” He asked, brows furrowing as he brushed his fingers over the sickly green mug with the cartoon characters face on it. “Do you plan on feeding an army?”

“No, but Stella suggested that we take some down to the local homeless shelter on Christmas Eve.” Anne smiled over at the girl. “That’s her family's Christmas tradition, and since she’s not with them this year, we thought we’d make it happen for her here.”

“Thank you again, for agreeing to this.” Stella smiled at Anne. “It really means the world to me, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re a part of the family now, dear.” Anne teased. “Even if you’re not spending Christmas with us, this little tradition of yours has been officially integrated into our own Christmas tradition. We’ll always have a little bit of Stella with us during the Holiday’s now, eh.”

Stella laughed at that, reaching her arms out to wrap Anne in a hug.

Harry almost felt a little jealous at how seamlessly she fit in here.

“If you keep staring at her, she’s gonna want to run back to America.” Gemma nudged her elbow into his side. “We get it, she’s hotter than you.”

“Oh, shut up.” Harry rolled his eyes at Gemma as she smirked. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Okay, Casanova.” She snorted. “Whatever you say.

Harry wasn’t sure why he was hard.

He just wanted to close his eyes and go the fuck to sleep.

After a long day of travel, and an even longer evening filled with Harry pulling down Christmas decorations from the attic, he just wanted to sleep. He wasn’t looking forward to taking the annual trip to the Christmas Tree Farm tomorrow. Since Robin passed, Harry was the only man in the family, which meant that he often had to do the heavy lifting. He found that most of his strength lay in his core, despite the amount of lifting he’d done to buff up his arms, and he wasn’t looking forward to tossing a tree on top of his car while everyone watched.

Truthfully, that was the worry that should have been plaguing his mind as he lay in bed. Instead, his mind was lost in hazel colored waves that crashed on dark plum shores. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stella’s eyes or her perfectly shaped lips. He spent most of his night watching her drink from a wine glass, her cheeks turning a shade darker with each joke that she shared with his family. If there was one thing that he was shocked about, it was the dry humor that tumbled from her perfect plum colored lips. She was a funny girl, despite being quiet, and he laughed at every single joke she told without shame.

As he shifted his about, trying to avoid any further thoughts about her lips, the tip of his cock brushed against the warm flannel of his pajama pants. He let out a throaty groan, reaching down to push his palm into the crotch of his pants to soothe the pressure building in his lower belly. He couldn’t jack off to the thought of Gemma’s new friend, it would be awful, and it would surely land him on the naughty list. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to picture her lipstick staining his lower belly, his upper thighs, and eventually...the shaft of his cock. But after a few minutes of trying not to think about it, that was the only thing he could see behind closed eyes.

With an annoyed grumble, he dipped his hand into his pajama pants, tugging his cock out while his free hand pushed the band of the pants down his hips. He licked over his dry lips, making a mental note to buy some chapstick tomorrow as he gave himself one, swift stroke. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to moan as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. He was pathetic, dripping down his cock over a girl that he barely knew. He couldn’t believe that he was being that guy right now, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of a beautiful girl on her knees for him. He wanted so badly to have her there, whispering filthy words in that gentle tone she had, encouraging him to cum on her tongue.

When he did cum, her name spilled from his lips.

His chest was heaving as he came down, the tinkling of Stella’s laughter filling his ears.

Seconds later, he heard her bid goodnight to Gemma before the door next to his own shut.

He was totally fucked for this girl.

The next morning, he didn’t expect to see Stella sitting at the breakfast bar when he came downstairs.

He stopped in the doorway, his cheeks growing warm as he looked over her sweater covered back. Thoughts of her name tumbling from his lips last night flooded back as he looked at her. She was wearing a lavender colored, cable knit sweater, and her curls were tied up in a messy ponytail on top of her head. Most of the curls had fallen out, covering up some of her neck alongside her fingers. Her cheek was propped on her palm, her gaze focused on her laptop as she lifted a mug of steaming liquid up to her mouth with her other hand.

Harry cleared his throat, walking toward the stove so he could put the kettle on. No one else in the house would be up for hours, but Harry couldn’t turn off his internal alarm clock no matter how he tried. He also hoped that he might find a moment of peace from the very girl sitting in his Mother’s kitchen. She haunted his dreams, her face playing on the silver screen in his mind all night long. He hated how infatuated he was with this woman that he barely even knew.

“Morning.” She spoke up first, her voice scratchy and tired. “Did you sleep well?”

“Splendid, yeah.” He nodded, filling the kettle with water. “You?”

“I’ve slept better, but that’s to be expected.” She said softly. “I spent a little bit of time on a skype call with my brother’s, so I was up longer than expected.”

“But you’re up fairly early this morning, aren’t you?” He put the kettle on the stovetop before turning around, his eyes landing on hers. “Why’s that?”

“I wake up this early anyways.” She smiled at him. “I usually like to go for a walk in the morning to wake myself up.”

“That’s nice.” He lifted his hand, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “I usually like to go for a swim or a run in the morning, too.”

“Where do you swim?” She asked.

“There’s a men’s swimming club not too far from my home in London.” He said. “It’s freezing cold, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Jeeze, you swim outside in this weather?” She lifted her head from her palm, her eyes growing wide. “I could never.”

“It’s an acquired taste.” He chuckled softly. “What are you working on?”

“A new piece for my blog.” She said. “I started out using it as a diary of sorts, but people apparently love reading about the disaster that is my life.”

“I’m sure it’s not all horrible.” He hoped that he sounded encouraging and not rude. “You seem like a lovely, and positive person.”

“I try to be.” She shrugged, reaching for her mug. “I could say the same about you.”

“I try to be.” He smiled at her. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Oh, I was actually thinking of popping down to this little bakery Gemma told me about-”

“Mandeville’s.” His heart picked up, a smile stretching across his lips. “Had my first job there.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” She laughed, wrapping both hands around her mug as she leaned back in the barstool. “I figured I’d go grab some pastries for everyone. I know it’s kind of a busy day with the Christmas Tree Farm, so I thought it would be best if your Mum didn’t feel the need to cook.”

“She would love that.” Harry said. “Maybe I could go with you? We could both get our walks in, and I can see Mary before she hunts me down and drags me to the bakery.”

“I would love the company.” She smiled. “But enjoy your tea first, I’ll just be working on this until we’re ready to go.”

“Cheers.” He nodded, watching her eyes drop to her computer screen.

She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup this morning, and Harry almost wished that she was.

He wished that she had covered up her beautiful, freckle covered skin so that he didn’t fall harder for her beautiful face. He wished that she was hiding away those little blemishes that made him swoon, because she was actually a human after all, not some angel sent down from heaven to torture him. He wished that she covered those beautiful lips in that plum lipstick again so that he could imagine kissing it off of her. He hated the feeling stirring inside of his belly, the butterflies a tell tale sign of his feelings.

He had a crush on Stella.

And there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling for her.

Stella’s gloves were precious.

They were a bright red, little snowflakes and reindeer stitched into them.

She offered to let Harry borrow a pair of her gloves, claiming that she’d brought plenty of pairs for the winter, but he politely declined before shoving his hands in his pockets. She looked so cozy, wrapped up in her winter coat with a beanie on top of her head and a matching scarf tied around her neck. Harry wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and cuddle her so that they could both stay nice and toasty on their walk. He wanted to kiss her bare cheeks, paying special attention to each freckle on her skin as the winter sun cast over them.

He was so infatuated with her that it was almost embarrassing.

“I can’t even imagine what it was like, growing up in a place like this.” Stella turned her head towards Harry, the tip of her nose a little red. “It’s so picturesque.”

“It’s alright.” He gave her a small smile. “I always wanted to get out when I was a kid.”

“Of course you did, we all do.” She chuckled. “I think everyone should run away for a little while, it really gives you all of the tools you need to really appreciate your hometown when you go back. I don’t know that I’ll ever move back to my hometown, but when I visit it, I feel a little bit more appreciative of the pivotal role it had in raising me.”

“I feel the same way about Cheshire.” Harry nodded. “It’s a big part of who I was, and that helped make me who I am. I wouldn’t be the same without this place.”

“Exactly.” She said.

“So where exactly are you from?” He asked. “I mean, obviously America-”

“Is it that obvious?” She asked, narrowing her eyes playfully, her lips pursed. “I don’t think it is.”

“It’s a neon, flashing sign above your head kind of obvious, love.” He snorted. “But I can’t place what your accent is.”

“It’s not really an accent.” Stella shrugged, turning her attention back to the sidewalk. “I grew up on the road for most of my life, but my family settled in Georgia when I was about twelve.”

“Interesting.” He said. “How did you like Georgia?”

“I didn’t, at first.” She laughed. “I hated it so much. I loved being on the road with my family, traveling places like Hawaii and Los Angeles. When we moved to the south, I despised everything about it. It was so plain and boring compared to places we’d lived before. But like I said, moving away has made me learn to love it more when I go back.”

“How long have you been gone?” He asked.

“About three years.” She said. “I lived in Amsterdam for a year, and then Paris, and now I’m here.”

“Which place is your favorite?” He asked. “Be honest with me, now. You don’t have to say London just because you’re trying to get on my good side.”

Stella tossed her head back, laughing loudly.

“I think it’s truthfully London, Harry.”

His name sounded like honey falling from her lips.

“Why is that?” He asked.

“Because I’ve found my chosen family.” She turned back, giving him a smile that thawed out the chill creeping up from his toes. “Starting with Gemma, of course. She was the first person to take me under her wings, and I’m so happy that I have her in my life. Then I started to find other people, and we all became this really close knit group of friends that felt more like family than my actual family does. I don’t know how I’ll ever leave this place.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He said softly. “Maybe this is home.”

Please don’t go, Stella.

Stay here with me forever.

Love me.

“My contract is up at the end of the year, but we’ll just have to see how things go.” She said. “I might be convinced to stay.”

“Well, I guess I have a lot of work to do.” He chuckled.

“Why are you so keen on me staying?” She asked him, her brows raising as she gave him a knowing smirk. “Do you have a crush on me, Styles?”

His cheeks grew hot against the cold wind.

“Alright now, don’t let that go to your head.” He grumbled, tucking his neck into his scarf as Stella’s smile grew wider. “It’s all your bloody fault, you know?”

“What have I done?” She laughed louder. “I’m just me.”

“That’s exactly it.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re you, Stella.”

The Christmas Tree Farm was going well.

That was up until Gemma decided that they absolutely needed to take a family picture in front of the big Christmas tree, Stella included. They had picked up a few little trinkets and such while walking around the market included in the farm. Anne picked up a reindeer headband with bells stitched in, plopping it on her head the second she found it. Gemma found an elf’s hat with little ears attached to the side, putting it on her hair before fussing with her hair. Stella found a crown made of poinsettias that she plopped on top of her curls, the red and gold working perfectly with her red lipstick and gold eyeshadow. Harry, however, wasn’t exactly in the spirit.

“You’re wearing the bloody santa hat, whether you like it or not!” Gemma shoved it towards him with a frown. “If you stand next to Stella, you’ll like Mr. and Mrs. Claus!”

“Shut up, Gemma.” Harry sneered, snatching the hat from her hands. “I didn’t tell you about that so you could throw it in my face!”

“Well, I’m doing it for the greater good of our family photo!” She glared at him. “Put that hat on before I shove it on your head myself.”

“Fine.”

“Are you two alright?” Stella smirked, adjusting her crown on her head as she walked up to Harry and Gemma. “Santa is still putting people on the naughty list you know?”

“If anyone’s going to be on the naughty list, it’s Harry.” Gemma tossed her arm around Stella’s shoulder with a proud smirk. “He’s being a pain in the arse.”

“Is the hat really necessary to the photo?” He groaned, dropping his head back.

“Yes.” Stella and Gemma said at the same time.

“Alright, alright.” He groaned, tugging the hat over his curls. “Are you both happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” Stella smiled brightly at Harry. “I think you look handsome.”

“I’m going to just point out…” Gemma pulled her arm from around Stella, tucking her hands behind her back. “That there’s mistletoe hanging from that piece of wood above your heads.”

“Gemma-” Harry’s eyes grew wide.

“And I’m promptly going to walk away.” She smiled at Stella. “Meet us at the tree in ten minutes.”

“Gemma-” Stella held her hand out as Gemma walked away, her eyes growing just as wide as Harry’s were. “What a sneaky little elf.”

“Tell me about it.” Harry shifted, adjusting the hat on his head. “Devious little-”

“Well, I guess we can’t break tradition.” Stella looked up at Harry, shuffling forward slowly with a little smirk on her lips. “I mean, what would Santa say if we didn’t kiss under the mistletoe?”

Harry licked over his bottom lip, his fingers twitching.

“You really want to kiss me?”

“I might.” Stella’s toes were almost touching Harry’s now. “But the question is, do you want to kiss me?”

“I do, yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I laid eyes on you, Stella.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She raised her brows. “Now is your chance, Mr. Grinch, lay one on me.”

Harry lifted his hands, pressing them to Stella’s face hesitantly before he lowered his lips to hers in a soft kiss. It was a gentle peck, one that anyone would share underneath the mistletoe, but Harry wanted more from Stella. It seemed that she wanted more as well, her arms sliding around his neck as she pressed up on her toes. He let his hands fall to her waist as the kiss grew more intense, his hands holding onto her tightly as she brushed her tongue over his lower lip. He tried his best not to smile into the kiss, letting her have what she wanted by parting his lips. When her tongue slipped over his, he let out a tiny moan, gripping her hips tighter.

“Get a room, you two!” Harry groaned, pressing his forehead to Stella’s.

“Gemma, I swear to god-” Harry turned his head, whipping his santa hat off before he threw it in her direction. “Go bother someone else!”

Stella laughed, ducking her forehead down to Harry’s chest as he rubbed his thumbs over her side gently. He felt her body shaking underneath his hands, his heart hammering in his chest when he realized just how close they actually were. He turned his head back, lifting a hand up to guide Stella’s chin up. He pressed his lips to hers once, twice, three more times before she pressed her palms to Harry’s chest.

“We’ll never stop if we don’t move away from the mistletoe.” Stella whispered. “And I think Gemma might physically pull us apart if we miss that Christmas picture.”

“Let it be known that I’m only partaking in this picture because I want to stand next to you for as long as I can.” Harry smiled. “I think I have a little more than a crush on you, Stella.”

“I think I have more than a crush on you, too.”

“Madeline, stop right there.” Stella let out a frustrated sigh as she looped her arm under the baby carrier, her eyes falling down to the sleeping infant. “Milo, promise Mumma that you’ll listen when you get to that age?”

“Give him here.” Harry brushed a kiss over Stella’s temple, his hand massaging her lower back gently. “You go catch up with speed racer, okay? I’ll be right behind you with the baby and the diaper bag.”

“Thank you.” Stella turned her head, puckering her lips out. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He hummed out. “And our beautiful babies, even if one of them has a death wish and two left feet.”

Stella snorted out a laugh, pulling her arm from the carrier before she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I better go help her up the stairs.”

“Please, we don’t need a repeat of last year.” Harry smiled.

“Yeah, I would like to avoid a trip to A&E this year.” Stella snorted.

He watched Stella walk over to an antsy Madeline, her pigtails bouncing about as she jumped from foot to foot in excitement. Harry chuckled softly at his daughter, amused by her excitement. He was happy that she found so much joy in Christmas, just like her Mother did. He watched Stella hold a hand out, waiting for Madeline to take it before they both conquered the brick steps outside of his Mum’s house. When they got to the top, Stella lifted Madeline up, kissing over her cheeks as their daughter giggled. Harry lifted Milo’s car seat from the base, his eyes falling down to the six month old with hazel eyes and soft cheeks just like his Mother’s.

“We’ve got our hands full with those two, mate.” Harry pulled the soft, wintery blue blanket up to Milo’s chin, tucking it around his shoulders so that he would stay warm. “Gonna keep us both on our toes, I know it.”

Milo cooed up at him, causing Harry to smile wider before he ducked his head down to kiss his son's soft cheeks.

“Let’s get you into Nan’s before you turn into a popsicle, my love.” Harry said. “Mumma won’t be happy if we have to spend Christmas thawing you out.”

As Harry made his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but remember five Christmases ago.

He was walking up the exact same steps on his own, unaware of the magic that was waiting inside for him. He was unaware that the girl Gemma brought home for Christmas would one day be his wife, and the mother of his two beautiful children. He had no idea that they would spend long nights together, planning their future and holding each other tight. He opened the front door to his Mum’s house, smiling at the sound of Madeline telling his Mother a story with animated gestures, her curly pigtails bouncing around as Stella tried to wrangle her jacket off.

“And then Daddy told me we could get a puppy next year if I was good enough!” Madeline squealed out as Harry shut the door.

He dodged the steely gaze he got from Stella after she heard the word puppy.

“Sorry.” He mouthed over at her, causing her to shake her head as she tried to fight off a smile.

“You’re a menace.” She mouthed back. “But I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said it outloud, his heart soaring in his chest.

Stella gave him a heart warming smile, Madeline’s coat still in her hands.

Seconds later, Milo let out a tiny cry causing Harry to snap back into dad mode.

He rested the carseat on the ground, carefully pulling his son out before pressing a kiss to his chubby little cheeks. As if Gemma could sense his presence, she barreled into the living room with her eyes set on Milo.

“There’s my little man.” She held her hands out, wiggling them as Harry rolled his eyes. “You get to see him every day, Harry. Pass him over to his auntie.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Please be careful with him, I kind of like this one.”

“Piss off.” Gemma snorted out, sliding Milo onto her hip before pressing a bright red kiss mark into his forehead. “Has Daddy told you that without auntie Gem, you wouldn’t exist?”

“Gemma-”

“Can you believe that?” She looked up at Harry, a hint of something nostalgic and genuine sparkling in her green eyes. “If I’d never brought Stella to family Christmas, we wouldn’t have two beautiful babies to dote over every year.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what life would be like without them.” He whispered. “Thank you, Gemma.”

“Harry, I really didn’t-”

“Gemma.” He said her name sternly, pressing his palm to her bicep. “Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She said softly, her eyes watering. “Now, if you could do me a favor and bring a hot friend around, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’ll see what I can manage.” He let out a wet chuckle, his own eyes watering.

“What are we managing?” Stella wrapped her arms around Harry.

“We owe Gem a favor.” He sniffled, turning head to press a kiss to Stella’s forehead.

“Why are you crying, baby?” Stella frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all.” He pressed his lips to hers, softly brushing his nose against the tip of hers as his. “Just so incredibly grateful to have you in my life, that’s all.”

“You’re so sappy around the holiday’s.” Stella brushed her palm over his belly. “I love you, Mr. Styles.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Styles.” He said. “Merry Christmas, Darling.”

“Merry Christmas.”

#not edited #as per usual #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry fic #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry styles X ofc #harry styles christmas fic #harry styles blurb #harry blurb #harry styles christmas blurb

276 notes · View notes

harrysweasleys · 4 years ago

Text

christmas lovin’ // d.m

Summary: Oh hi!! Idk if your requests are still open but if you could, could you write a hufflepuff reader x draco post war?? In which they think that the other one doesn’t love them (THE PINING! THE LONGING) and they bake, and read together? With feelings being confessed? If you can’t it’s totally okay!! love your fics btw!

Warnings: none. so soft.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: sorry to those still waiting for their request to get written. my inbox is crazy and my request list is hella long so i’m trying my best. hope you enjoy this soft fic!! xoxo

————————————

“Oh, come in, it’s freezing outside!” you grasped Draco’s shivering figure lightly by the shoulder and ushered him into your apartment, dusting the snow off of his hair and his shoulders as he placed his hands over his nose to warm it up, ��Sorry I made you wait so long in the cold, I couldn’t hear you knocking in the kitchen.”

“No worries,” he shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door as you locked it shut, “I’m indoors now and that’s what matters.”

He smiled at you, the fluttering in your heart already beginning at the gesture. He removed his gloves and placed them in his coat pockets, proceeding to remove his shoes, kicking the snow off of them and nearly placing them by the doorway, a proper habit of his. He never left anything scattered anywhere.

“Something smells good,” he stepped off the carpet with his emerald green wool socks and closer to the fireplace in the living room, placing his hands in front of it and warming them up, “What’re you making?”

You flushed, pointing to the kitchen counter, “Christmas cookies. They’re my mum’s recipe. It’s a family tradition. I kind of need that, especially this time of year.”

Draco senses the sadness in your tone, stepping away from the fireplace and pulling you into a hug, “I know. I’m sorry. I’m here for you, though.” You could feel the warmth on him from having stood by the fireplace seconds before, but it was comforting. Despite having the fire going, you were still cold.

In the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War, you felt like you had lost everything. You had spent all of your years in Hogwarts learning how to be the best possible witch you could be, but when faced with the actual dangers that lurk in the magical world, you struggled coming to terms with what happened.

You felt like you owed your life to Draco, in a way. Neither of you were overly close in school, but he had saved you from a curse when you found yourself otherwise distracted. After that, you couldn’t let him leave your life. After all; how are you supposed to forget someone who saved you?

His company was comforting, safe, and a reminder of how precious and important every moment in life was. He brought you happiness and you did the same for him — there was no doubt about that. Every time he was over, you would forget about the outside world and solely focus on him in that moment. Whether you were watching a film, making dinner, cleaning, it didn’t matter. When he was in your presence, he was all you could focus on.

He would stop by your place nearly five times a week. You both dealt with so many mental and emotional traumas post-war, and your found comfort in each other. To the point that you’d find yourself missing him mere seconds after he left. He’d leave in the evening after spending the day with you and you’d find yourself going to bed wishing he was closer to you.

Safe to say, you’re in love with him.

You pulled away from the hug and nudged your head in the direction of the kitchen, “Do you wanna make them with me?”

He tilted his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows, “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on a family tradition.”

“You’re not! I’m all alone, come with me,” you linked your hand in his and led him into the kitchen, where the dough was complete and the cookie cutters were messily thrown around the counter, “Put on an apron.”

He chuckled and looked over to where you kept the aprons hung, “Hm, I’ve got an option to wear one with little blue flowers, or one with yellow butterflies. Well, I think the blue flowers bring out my eyes.” He joked, pulling the one with the flowers off the hook and putting it on, twirling as if to model it. Somehow, even in a silly apron, he was the most breathtaking person you had ever seen.

“You look quite dashing,” you grinned, looking him up and down. He always had looked really good. Even when you were a young Hufflepuff, Draco’s natural charm and suave attitude had caught your attention.

“So do you,” he pointed to your apron, the giant red letters saying ‘kiss the chef’ written across it, “Very fashionable.”

The heat rose to your cheeks at his teasing smirk — you had forgotten about the childish words written on apron you were wearing. In hindsight, considering your feelings for Draco, this might not have been the best apron to wear.

“Just come help me bake,” you shook your head to sway from the playful conversation, moving over to give him some counter space next to you, “You do know how to bake the muggle way, right?”

He gazed off at the wall as if trying to remember before he nodded slowly, “Actually, yes, believe it or not. Made some with mum many years ago.” You noticed the sad smile he gave you, your beard aching for him. He had a falling out with his parents after the War and he hated talking about them. It was your ultimate goal to avoid mentioning them, so you took control of the conversation once more.

“Here,” you handed him a Christmas tree cookie cutter to bring him back to reality, “Make some trees.”

He chuckled, taking out a bit of the dough and rolling it in his hands, laying it out in the floury mess that was taking over the counter, “What shape do you have?”

You did the same, rolling a ball of dough and laying it out flat on the countertop, “Reindeer. Oh — and I have the best icing colours.”

“Well guess I’ll have to stuck around and you’ll have to show me these icing colours to prove your point,” he smirked, slowly beginning to produce some Christmas tree shaped cookies, placing them gently on the cooking tray you had placed in front of the both of you.

You flushed again, focusing your energy on cutting the cookies perfectly in attempts to not become too overwhelmed by the way he seemed to effortlessly flirt. Was he just always a natural flirt? You kind of hope he meant it, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud. Somehow, baking was becoming more of an intimate moment shared between you two and you never wanted it to end.

After filing up the tray, you placed it in the pre-heated oven and closed the door, marking the timer and grabbing another empty tray, “What shape do you want now? I’ve got snowmen, snowflakes, Santa hats... anything you can think of.”

You placed the tray down on the counter and pushed the box of cookie cutters in his direction, giggling slightly at the way his eyes widened.

“How many cookie cutters do you have? Bloody hell,” he chuckled, taking some of them out and analyzing them with a hint of amusement in his eyes, “Oh, wait. I like this one.”

“The cat shaped one? It’s not even Christmassy!” you laughed, rummaging through them as well and pulling out the Santa hat shaped one for yourself.

“I can make it Christmassy with your ever-so-colourful icing,” he winked at you, sending your heart into a frenzy. You momentarily forgot how to breathe.

He retuned to rolling the dough as of unaware of his affect on you. His usually tidy platinum hair was hanging in his forehead, lose stands dangling as he continued to cut the cat-shaped cookies, eyebrows furrowed in concentration in attempts not to mess up the shapes. You were worried he wasn’t enjoying himself, but every time he placed a new cat-shaped cookie on the tray, he’s grin proudly, telling you that he was in fact having a good time.

You were so distracted by his good looks that you almost forgot you were making cookies as well.

“Alright, done!” he clapped his hands, flour clouding off of them and into his hair and face. You stopped your cutting, clutching your stomach in laughter as he tried to wipe the flour off of him, coughing as it went up his nose, but making it way worse. Smears of white flour were now in his hair, cheeks, and nose.

“Priceless,” you struggled to catch your breath while laughing, lifting your hand to wipe even more flour across his nose, laughter not dying down when he turned to glared at you.

“How dare you,” he scowled, struggling to hide his own laughter, “That’s not fair. I have to retaliate.”

You stopped laughing, trying your best to give him a stern look, “How? I already did all the messy work. Can’t catch me off guard.” Placing your hands on your hips to emphasize your point, his eyes darted around your kitchen in search of something to do. You had thankfully put away the eggs and milk and other ingredients, so unless he went searching through your fridge and pantry, he wouldn’t find anything else to douse you with.

“Can’t catch you off guard?” he scoffed, stepping closer to you, “I beg to differ.”

You nearly choked on your breath from the immediate closeness, his body heat enveloping you to the point where you weren’t sure if you were warm because of him or because your nervous heart was thundering away.

You could smell him — the mixture of mint and cookie dough was intoxicating. He had always smelled good, but it took your breath away every time.

“How so?” your voice was soft, luckily covering the nervous tone. You wanted him to kiss you, to pull you close to his body and hold you forever. His hugs had always been unmatched, you could only imagine how good his kisses were.

Fortunately, your thoughts were confirmed as he leaned down and whispered, “Like this.”

His eyes fluttered shut and he placed his lips against yours, kissing you as if he had been waiting to do so for years. As if you were everything he ever needed. You kissed back immediately, melting into his touch and becoming weak in the knees. You felt like you were floating; the feeling of his lips against yours was unreal. He was loving, gentle, everything you thought he’d be.

You couldn’t help but feel as if everything you had been waiting for had come into play. You pined for him, longed for him, and you finally got to have the connection you had been waiting for. You’d never admit to him, but you had imagined what it would be like to kiss him. You’ve imagined the feeling of his lips moving in sync with yours, passion overcoming the two of you like a tidal wave. It was safe to say it was way better than you’d imagined.

His hands gripped your waist lightly as he broke the kiss, his flour-covered face smirking down at you, “Caught you off guard yet?”

You smiled, breathless, “Y—Yeah, I’d say.”

He kissed your nose lightly, shooting your a wink and turning back to continue the cookies you hadn’t cut due to your distractions. You felt frozen in your place, as if the events that just unfolded couldn’t register in your mind.

He had just kissed you. Kissed you.

“What’s wrong, love?” he chuckled, turning to face you with a knowing smirk after he cut the rest of the cookies, holding the pan in his hand to place in the oven.

“You kissed me,” you said, sounding exhilarated. You thought you sounded pathetic but your mind felt so distant and afar that you couldn’t mask a calm tone of voice.

He placed the cookie tray down, “That I did. I’ve been waiting to do that for a while, actually. Don’t laugh, but I’ve always fancied you. You’re so sweet, just incredible. And you’ve let me into your life, making me the luckiest person ever.” He had said it so casually, but his eyes held every bit of sincerity. He gazed down at you with a level of adoration you had never seen before.

“You have?” you gaped, heart still aflutter in your chest, “I—I’ve been waiting for you to do it too, actually. Almost did it myself a few times. I’ve fallen for you, and laugh if you want, but I’m so relieved you finally did that.”

He was now positively beaming. He placed his hands on either side of your face and leaned in to kiss you again.

——

Nearly an hour later, all the cookies were baked and you were comfortably nestled on the couch. The fireplace was warm, the blanket surrounding the two of you was soft, and the plate of cookies on the table in front of you was delicious.

You were reading a book silently, leaned up against Draco’s chest as he twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, occasionally pressing a delicate kiss to your temple as you delved into the story in front of you. Each time he did it, your entire body got covered in goosebumps — it was a feeling you wanted to experience forever.

Draco wasn’t reading, but he was perfectly at bliss with you in his arms, head against his chest, and the warmth enveloping you two as the snow continued coming down outside.

You reached over, grabbing another cookie and taking a bite and being careful not to get crumbs all over your pages, decided to check the clock above the fireplace, “It’s late, Draco, I just realized.” You felt a little fluke noticing how late it was. You didn’t want him to leave. The evening had been the closest thing to perfect you had ever experienced.

He chuckled, placing another kiss to your forehead, “I know. I don’t want to leave though.”

Flushing, but agreeing, you closed your book and placed it on the table before turning around to face him, readjusting the blanket so you were both still cocooned, “Unless — I don’t know — do you want to stay the night? You don’t have to, but we could stay in bed and be warm and cozy and—,”

He cut you off by placing his lips on yours, rendering you speechless before pulling away and mumbling against your lips.

“Thought you’d never ask, love.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy one shots #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfics #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy reader insert

327 notes · View notes

janicho88 · 4 years ago

Text

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 5

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count- 2,497

Warning- Mentions of car accidents, fires, and alcohol. Possible swearing. Fluff.

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him. Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble. The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her. She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school. Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo. The square filled for this chapter is the free space, Christmas cookies. The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will. This has its own tag list and it is open. That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories. This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

Divider from freepngimg.com

Series Masterlist

Dean went in for a shift the next day taking Miracle with him and you went back out job and apartment hunting. Still no luck on either front. Heading home to Dakota you got out a few more Christmas decorations you had in boxes and added some in the kitchen, and up the wood staircase, being careful none of Dean's hard work got scratched.

You were heading upstairs to your apartment when the front door opened. Turning around quickly you saw a blond woman walking in who seemed almost as surprised to see you as you were to see her. Maybe Dean had found another girl to go out with and was keeping it a secret.

“Hello.” You greeted her.

“I thought Sam was joking, if I had known he wasn't I would have knocked instead of using the emergency key.”

Not entirely sure what was going on you kept quiet.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch what Sam said your name was. Like I said, I thought he was joking about Dean's girlfriend moving in."

That got your mouth semi working. "Not Dean's girlfriend, just friend. Just sleeping together. No, not sleeping, living, I mean staying. I’m staying in the apartment. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you Dean's not girlfriend, I'm Jess."

"Oh your Sam's girlfriend."

"Yeah, actual girlfriend. We live and sleep together too." She says with a teasing smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Dean's told me a little about you." You told her about your eviction and Dean offering you a place to stay and the brothers moving you out.

She was extremely nice and had a very bubbly personality. She was someone who would be friends with everyone.

"I came over to look at something for Dean's Christmas present, but I don’t want to bother you.”

“No, your fine. I just put a few more Christmas decorations out, I was going back to the apartment. Do you need any help?”

“Do you know where Dean’s tools are? He was telling Sam he broke something and we were going to get him a new part for Christmas. I just need the model number.”

“Yeah, I can show you.” As you led her past the living room she froze looking inside.

“I can’t believe there is an actual tree in here, with presents underneath. In the years I’ve known Dean he doesn’t do much for Christmas at all.”

“I asked if we could, I’ve always enjoyed having a Christmas tree.”

She looks over at you. “You’re good for him, girlfriend or not I think he really needs someone like you in his life.”

You weren’t sure how to respond so you just smiled and led her down the hall.

The first half of Dean’s shift kept the guys moving. One small restaurant fire, then car accident to a residential oven fire. When things finally calmed down and it seemed like they might get a few minutes peace Dean headed to the bunks to try and get a some sleep with Miracle following along behind him. After Dean layed down he was soon joined by his faithful companion. The boys managed to get a few hours before the alarm went off again. Coming back this time they headed to the kitchen to find some food. Bobby would sneak Miracle some scraps when no one else was looking. Sitting around the table Sam turns to Dean.

“Get all your Christmas shopping done?”

“Yep, done and wrapped.”

Cas looks between the brothers, “I think I missed something, Dean went shopping?”

“Yep, Y/N got him to go to the mall with her.”

“Does this mean no gift cards this year?” Cas wanted to know.

“They sell gift cards at the mall.”

“I would laugh at that, but knowing you that’s exactly what you bought,” Sam stared at his brother.

“Have to find out when you open it.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely what he did.” Benny injected.

“Alright you idjits” Bobby starts talking as he walks back in. “Don’t forget the fundraiser party is in a few days. Winchesters, you both are on deserts, aka Christmas cookies. Benny and Cas have drinks, preferably not alcohol.”

“Hey Chief, why am I on desserts this year?” Sam wanted to know.

“Do you remember last year's party?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember last year’s egg nog at the party?”

Sam’s smile gets bigger, “Yeah.”

“That’s why. Most of these people are driving home, we don’t need them buzzed before they finish their first drink. The list the other shifts are bringing is on the bulletin board by my office.” He starts to walk away, “Oh and Dean.”

“Yes Bobby.”

“An edible dessert would be nice this year.”

“Hey, at least they looked good last year!”

Bobby left the room muttering about being surrounded by idjits on his way out.

Dean arrives home to find you going through the cupboard, “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Alright, I was just making a grocery list. Is there anything you need?”

“Yeah I actually need to pick something up, I’ll come with you.”

Getting the dogs settled the two of you are off to the grocery store. Going through the bakery section Dean stops and looks at the premade desserts. “

Holding up a package of frosted sugar cookies and one of cupcakes he turns to you.

“Do you think either of these are edible?”

“I would hope so since that is what the store is selling them for.”

“Well do you think they are any good, that they taste alright.”

“Probably, yeah. If you want one, just get it. I thought you were more of a pie lover though?”

“Oh I am, these aren’t for me. We have a fundraiser party for the station and I’m on desserts. I’m supposed to bring Christmas cookies.”

“And you want to take those with you.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He looks down at the cookies with such disappointment. “Okay then one of those packs instead.”

“Dean, you aren’t going to buy a pack of cookies to pass off as Christmas cookies. You need to make those.”

“Not a hundred percent sure they would be edible then. Bobby said they had to be edible this year.”

“I’ll help you don’t worry. It’s another Christmas activity for you.”

“I really think buying those on the table would be easier.”

Finishing the rest of the shopping you take Dean down the baking aisle. “So what kind of Christmas cookies were you thinking.”

“I don’t know, I was thinking whatever kind I could buy in the store.”

“Alright. How about Sugar cookies to start with. How many do you need?”

“There is usually a good number of people there. Both Sam and I are bringing them. Probably need a hundred each, maybe a few more.”

“What is this for exactly?”

“It’s a fundraiser we have down at the station. People donate toys, and other needed items. Santa is there for the kids.”

“Okay a big group of people take peanut butter out, don’t want to risk an allergy.” You thought through your mental list of Christmas goodies. “You could do the cranberry bliss bars I used to make at work, those are always a hit, and I have a recipe for white chocolate ginger cookie that’s really good. If any of those interest you?”

“You would really help me bake all that?”

“Yeah, I like baking and I have nothing else to do. Plus you are still letting me stay with you and won’t take my money when I try to pay you.”

“I’ll accept your payment in cookies.”

“Great.”

The two of you grab what you need from the aisle before heading to the checkout.

After arriving home the groceries you don’t need right now are put away. The Cranberry bar is made first, so that it can cook while you roll out the sugar cookies. He was chopping the dried cranberries into little pieces for the cake, and having way too much fun with the knife. Miracle and Dakota joined you in the kitchen hoping to catch anything that fell.

“I think the cranberries are small enough Dean.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah. Any smaller and they are just going to be red dots.”

Your plan was to keep it simple and just do round sugar cookies, but someone had other ideas.

“Where are the shape thingies?”

“What thingies?”

“You know the things that make snowmen, Santa and stockings.” Dean’s hand was going up and down in the air, almost miming cutting out cookies.

“You mean cookie cutters? I can go see if I can find mine.” Heading to the apartment you looked through the boxes to see if you could find any. Luck was on your side, finding a bag of cookie cutters and a rolling pin you made your way back to the kitchen.

He rolled it out the first time and got it so thin you swore the cookies would have burnt the moment you put them in the oven. Getting it all back in a pile you showed him how thick he wanted it to be before you started cutting out cookies. He went through the bag of cookie cutters finding the ones he wanted to use. Grabbing out a stocking, snowman, tree, and a dog bone. To his disappointment you didn’t have Santa.

“Guess, I’ll have to get one for next year.”

You watched him do a few, “Okay I have to ask, what is with the dog bone cookies, how are they Christmassy?”

“Those are in honor of Miracle. We can decorate them red and green.”

“Okay.”

When the bliss bar came out of the oven Dean came and looked it over. “Do you think it’s edible?”

“Do you mean right this minute, because it needs to cool first then it gets frosting.”

“I mean in general.”

“Yes, it’s edible. I made these at the coffee shop all the time. Why do you keep asking if things are going to be edible?”

“Bobby, the Chief, told me I needed an edible dessert this year.”

You looked at him a moment, “Okay I have to ask, what did you take before for a desert that wasn’t edible?”

“Last year I went to the store and saw this container with what looked like cutout sugar cookies. Some had frosting, some were decorated with just sprinkles. They looked really nice.”

“Uh huh. How did they taste?”

“Like bitter disappointment mixed with the tears of children.”

“Oh my.”

“They were so hard you couldn’t even bite into them and if you managed to break off a piece to eat, it had a sour taste to it. Guess that’s why they were on the sale rack.”

“That sounds,” You were trying to control your laughter. “Sounds very delightful. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to try them.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want. They looked good at least.”

“You are trusted with cookies again this year? Aren’t they afraid of a repeat?”

“Apparently not as much as they were with Sam and the eggnog. He dumped a whole bottle of rum in it last year. He was moved to cookies this year.”

“Getting the guests drunk to be able to eat the food, sounds like the Winchester brothers put together an interesting Christmas party.”

Dean just laughs “Yeah we can get a little crazy now and then.”

“What do your Christmas plans usually include?”

“It’s just my sister, her husband and I. Donna is the under sheriff and some years she has to work part of the day. This year she works in the morning, and I’m volunteering at a pet adoption day in the park. Then we are having dinner at their house.

While the sugar cookies were in the oven the two of you worked on the batter for the ginger cookies.

“I’ll be honest,” Dean started to say. “I don’t like gingerbread cookies.”

“Me neither.”

“Then why are we making them?”

“We aren’t. These are ginger cookies, slightly different. I promise they are good. They will also be edible.”

Dean gave you a hard look before going back to the mixing bowl grumbling. “They smell like gingerbread cookies.”

“They smell like ginger. But if you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them.”

While the last of the cookies were in the oven you started on the frosting for the cranberry bar. Dean kept trying to stick a finger in the bowl.

“Stop it, what are you five? You can have the bowl when the bar is done.”

“This doesn’t take like regular frosting what’s in it, cream cheese, butter, vanilla, powdered sugar, orange juice, and white chocolate. It’s the last two that make it a little different.”

“It’s actually really good.” You glared at him. “Not that I was doubting your baking abilities at all. Mine 100% doubtable, but you’re great.”

Finishing that you two moved on to the sugar cookie frosting Dean poured a little too much powdered sugar in to mix and ended up with it all over the counter and on the dogs laying at his feet. He snuck them each a cookie to make up for it. Adding some red and green food coloring to two bowls then getting sprinkles out the two of you went to town.

The last job of the night was dipping the ginger cookies in white chocolate. When one had hardened up you gave it to Dean to try.

“I’m not sure I want that, I would rather have pie.”

“Just a bite, if you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it.”

“Fine.” Taking a bite he chews for a minute. “Actually they aren’t bad, the chocolate tames some of the flavor.”

As the two of you worked together to clean up the kitchen, Dean suggested ordering dinner so you wouldn't have to clean up another mess tonight.

“Sure, that’s fine with me.”

While he was gone to grab dinner you took out a few other items you bought at the store. Quickly whipping up a pie crust you grabbed the cans of filling. Just not enough time tonight to make some. Putting some crumble topping on, the pie was in the oven before Dean made it back.

When he walked in a short time later he came in the kitchen with his nose in the air.

“The cookies make it smell really good in here, I didn’t notice that earlier.”

“That’s not all the cookies, I may have a cherry pie in the oven for you.”

Oh his eyes go so big. “Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about one lately.”

“Man, you are amazing.”

Finishing dinner you took the pie out to cool. That lasted about five minutes before Dean cut himself a giant slice.

Trying to get some work on the house done the two of worked together painting one of the spare bedrooms before the four of you headed to the living room to watch tv.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 6

Tags- @winchest09 @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @jensengirl83 @abuavnee @lunarmoon8 @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278 @that-one-gay-girl @mandalou29 @igotmadskills @440mxs-wife @paryl @supernatural-love14 @krazykelly @anotherspnfanfic @bobbie3939 @deanwinchestersnightmoves @winchestergirl2 @thoughts-and-funnies

#fire fur & mistletoe #dean winchester #spnchristmasbingo #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #firefighter dean winchester #supernatural

65 notes · View notes

maybeimamuppet · 3 years ago

Text

day 22 (with twins): wearing onesies

day 22!! woot!

the twins are seven months old here (yes, again. sorry :p )

enjoy!

—————

Janis carefully creeps up the stairs to her bedroom. It’s about the twins’ bedtime, and she doesn’t want to interrupt any of her wife’s efforts to get them to sleep. She smiles when she pushes the door open and sees the scene there. Cady is lying on her side to nurse Layla, while Leo lies in the middle of the bed telling what is clearly a very important story. Cady’s eyes are closed peacefully as she cradles the back of Layla’s head to keep her close.

“Hey,” Janis greets quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Whatcha doing?”

Cady opens her eyes slowly and reaches for her with her free arm. Janis lies on her side of the bed and turns on her side as well, so the babies are cocooned between them.

“Just hanging out,” Cady whispers. “Feeding this little girl.”

Janis grins happily. “You guys are cute.”

“Thanks,” Cady chuckles. “How was your show?”

Janis had had a late night art exhibit. She really wanted to attend, but only did so after much coaxing from her wife and reassurance that Cady could handle the babies alone for one night. “It was nice. I got a lot of attention, I should have a few new commissions over the next little while. I missed you guys though.”

“We missed you too,” Cady says with a chuckle. “Bath time was a little hectic without you.”

Janis gently kisses Leo’s soft curls. “They seem fine. Smell good. You must’ve done a good job. How were they?”

“Our little angels,” Cady replies. Janis relaxes slightly. At least Cady didn’t have to deal with two cranky babies all alone. “Do you want to get Leo in her jammies for me?”

Janis nods and prepares to head to grab some from the dresser, but Cady stops her before she can open the drawer.

“I might’ve bought them new pajamas when I went out today,” she says sheepishly. “They’re in a bag there.”

Janis heads to look by the side of the dresser and sees the mentioned bag. “I see more than baby pajamas here, babes.”

“I got us matching ones!” Cady says happily. “There’s even some for Daffy and Ellie!”

“I am not wearing Christmas pajamas,” Janis refuses, pulling out the two smallest onesies. She does have to admit they’re adorable. The red and white stripes are almost candy-cane like, and the green trim just adds another level of Christmassy. The baby ones have little reindeer feet, but the adult ones just taper at the ankle.

“Not even for us?” Cady pouts. “I thought it could be a tradition.”

Janis tries her best to resist the puppy eyes, but, as always, has to give in. “Fine.”

“Yay,” Cady cheers quietly. “Come back, we miss you.”

Janis chuckles and comes back to the bed, tugging Leo where she needs her by her little feet. “Are you telling Mama a story? You tell very good stories!”

Leo coos happily and kicks her legs at her.

“Yeah, my sweet girl,” Janis hums. “Let’s get you in your goofy little pajamas.”

“Hey,” Cady scolds. “I got the least dorky ones they have.”

“I’m joking,” Janis says. “And we have the cutest little munchkins of all time anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Huh, Bee?”

Leo giggles as Janis blows raspberries on her tummy before she zips her into her new pajamas. Janis does have to admit that they look very Christmassy.

It just so happens that Layla finishes eating at the same time, so Janis switches them out. Cady rolls onto Janis’ side of the bed to feed Leo from the other side. She grins contently when Leo wiggles close and nuzzles in, running a tender finger over the baby’s cheek and grinning down at her.

Janis changes Layla and goes back to where she was, holding the twins securely between the two of them. “I love watching you with them.”

Cady looks up at her wife curiously. “Why?”

“You all just look so relaxed,” Janis says quietly. “When you’re close to each other. You look so peaceful. You can see how much they love you.”

“I can see that with you too,” Cady says. “They both love you so much. But I love you most.” She looks down at their daughters. “I smoke the both of you.”

“Caddy!” Janis laughs in shock. “I love you too, dork.”

Cady grins. “I’m just saying. Gotta make sure I’m still in the top spot.”

“You all are,” Janis says. “My three favorite girls.”

“I suppose I can share,” Cady jokes. “They are beautiful.”

“They’re perfect,” Janis agrees. “This one’s milk drunk, though. Soooo cozy she can’t even stay awake.”

Cady laughs and brushes a hand over Layla’s head. The baby is very loose and floppy, blinking at Janis in exhaustion. With a great deal of effort, she turns her head the other way to see Cady, who smiles at her.

“Hi, beautiful,” Cady coos. “Are you so sleepy? Look at you, princess. You look so much like your mommy.”

“I think they look more like you,” Janis says, cuddling up behind Layla and effectively spooning her baby. “If they had red hair it’d be uncanny.”

“Really? I think they look just like you but shrunk and with blue eyes,” Cady giggles. She suddenly looks down at her other one. “You’re slowing down, there, Bee. Don’t go to sleep yet, we have to take pictures!”

“No, I don’t want people to see me in those pajamas,” Janis whines. Cady pouts again. Janis groans and buries her face in Layla’s hair. “Lala, tell Mama to stop being mean to me.”

“But they’re so cute,” Cady continues pouting. “It’s their first Christmas, we have to get cute matching pajama pictures.”

“Fine,” Janis sighs. “But you can’t send them to Damian. Or Regina. Or my mom.” Cady pouts even harder. “Fine!”

“Yay,” Cady says happily, leaning in for a kiss. Janis begrudgingly leans in too, and quickly forgets what she was even upset about. Layla suddenly gives a disgruntled squawk at being squished roughly against her sister. “Oops. Sorry pumpkins. Now, go get changed, Jay, I wanna see you.”

Janis pouts, but rolls out of bed and heads to the bag. Cady watches with an eager smile as she pulls off her fancy clothes and puts on the onesie. Janis holds her hands out and gives a small spin. “Happy?”

“Very,” Cady chuckles. “You look great.”

“Your turn,” Janis grins, taking Leo as she finally finishes her meal so Cady can stand. Cady kisses her one more time before she grabs her set and changes. “Cute.”

“Thanks!” Cady chirps. She pauses and looks at her family on the bed. “How do we do this?”

“Like this,” Janis says, handing her both babies. Cady takes them in confusion and watches as Janis remakes the bed and pulls out her phone along with Cady’s old selfie stick. “Now come back and put them in the middle.”

Cady does, resting the twins side by side in the middle of the bed. Janis squishes in on one side, against Leo, and motions for Cady to lie on the other.

“There. Now do this,” Janis says, reaching to hold Cady’s hand over their daughters, so their fingers are interlocked over the babies’ bellies. “Den dis.”

Cady laughs as the next instruction is muffled against Leo’s cheek, before she leans in to kiss Layla’s. Janis puts the stick in between her feet and holds it aloft, so all that’s visible is from the hips up. It’s the best they can do for now. A few gentle tickles coax giggles from the babies, and Janis manages to push the button to set off the camera with her toes.

“There!” She says, bringing it back down to show Cady.

“Aww,” Cady coos. “Perfect.”

“We can get more in the morning when they’re more awake,” Janis says.

“Yeah. Okay, squishies, time for bed,” Cady says. “Come here.”

Cady kisses each baby everywhere she can reach and holds them close for a second, before handing them to Janis.

Janis carries them to their little beds against the wall and rests them down gently, zipping them into their sleep suits and giving them their pacifiers. As always, she stays to watch them fall asleep, gently stroking their hair and occasionally bending down to kiss their foreheads. Leo drifts off first, rapidly followed by her twin. Janis kisses them one more time and heads back to her wife.

“There we go,” Cady yawns as she comes back. Janis grins and reaches for her.

“Can we take one more picture?” Janis asks quietly.

“I thought you didn’t want to take any pictures,” Cady teases.

“I don’t. But I like kissing you,” Janis says, pulling her closer and pressing her lips against Cady’s. Cady chuckles quietly against her before returning the affections, gently cupping Janis’ neck. Janis holds her phone up again to snap some more photos of just the two of them.

“Ow!” Cady yelps when Janis suddenly forgets what she’s doing and drops her phone on their faces in favor of holding her wife better. “Jay, oh my god, you’re such a dork.”

“Sorry,” Janis mumbles, massaging her sore forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Cady giggles. “That’s probably a sign we should quit for the night.”

“Never!” Janis says, rolling over and holding Cady on top of her to pull her down for another kiss. Cady laughs, but quickly gets lost in her wife as Janis tangles a hand in her hair to hold her impossibly closer.

“I love you,” she murmurs when they break apart for breath.

“I love you too,” Janis replies, kissing Cady once more before letting her nuzzle into her neck. “You gonna stay there?”

“Mmhmm. My pillow now,” Cady yawns, peppering a few kisses on Janis’ jawline. “Night night.”

“Goodnight, Peanut. Sweet dreams.”

—————

thanks for reading!! see you tomorrow!

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #cadvent

3 notes · View notes

infinitevariety · 4 years ago

Text

May Your Days Be Merry

Having never been able to celebrate previously, Aziraphale and Crowley decide to embrace the festive season and make the most of their first December together since the world didn’t end.

Chapter Seven: Blankets (AO3)

Crowley and Aziraphale get cosy and watch Christmas films (Or: Oh no, there’s only one blanket!)

There is a large van parked up outside the bookshop when Crowley arrives. He sees a man exit the shop, close the back door of the van, hop into the cab, and drive away. Crowley rubs his hands together in anticipation as he pushes open the shop door and steps inside.

“Oh no, not more, I thought you said that was the last?”

“Angel?”

“Oh Crowley, it’s you, thank goodness.”

Aziraphale is, once again, standing amongst a sea of boxes. At least this time, Crowley knows exactly what’s in them.

“They all arrived then? That’s good.”

“What on Earth have you had sent here? They’re all addressed to you!”

“Well that one—” Crowley points to the large, flat box right in front of Aziraphale. “—will be the television.”

“Television? I don’t want a television. If I’d wanted a television I would have got one years ago.”

“That may be, but for my festive, relaxing, just for us plans, a television is needed.” Crowley sees Aziraphale take a breath, and before he can start bemoaning the invention of visual media, Crowley continues. “If after today you don’t want to keep it we can take it back, or donate it to some good cause. You don’t have to keep it.”

Aziraphale harrumphs, but gives a stiff nod of agreement.

“There should be a blu-ray player and some Christmas films in here somewhere, too.” Crowley gets stuck in sorting out the boxes.

Aziraphale seems to perk up at the words ‘Christmas films’ and Crowley inwardly cheers.

“And what about the rest of them? What exactly is it you have planned?” asks Aziraphale.

“There’s a bunch of cosy stuff in the other parcels. Blankets, popcorn, Christmas pillows, sweets, a bit of festive fancy dress fun… I’ll leave those boxes for you while I take the TV upstairs and get it set up, okay?”

Aziraphale is staring open mouthed at Crowley, the only movement a rapid blinking of his eyes.

“Angel? What is it?”

Aziraphale’s mouth snaps shut and then he says, “You bought blankets, and food, and festive fancy dress?”

“Yes?” says Crowley, suddenly worried he’s done the wrong thing. “If you don’t want—”

“I want!” Aziraphale quickly assures him. “I want. You go—” He makes a shooing motion with his hands at Crowley. “—do what you need to with that contraption. I’ll open the important boxes.”

Crowley grins freely as he grabs the things he needs and manhandles them up the stairs to Aziraphale little-used flat.

The set up doesn’t take long, when it’s being done by an occult being who doesn’t expect it to take long, and in no time the TV and blu-ray player are ready to go. Crowley fiddles with the remote, finding a channel playing nothing but a roaring log fire, and relaxes back on the flat’s lesser used sofa.

“Did you want the Santa hat or the antlers?” asks Aziraphale as he wanders into the room, arms full of swag from the boxes.

Before Crowley can answer, Aziraphale looks up and sees the fire on the TV. He oohs appreciatively, and Crowley gives himself another pat on the back.

“I’ll take the antlers, obviously.” Crowley extracts them from Aziraphale’s full arms and places them on his head.

“Obviously?”

“They’re basically horns.”

Aziraphale snorts, dropping the rest of the things on the sofa beside Crowley and ramming the Santa hat on his head. He looks adorable.

“You look adorable.”

“Well, thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale looks away and turns ever so slightly pink. “I’ll just make the popcorn, shall I?”

Aziraphale grabs a couple of packets of popcorn and disappears into the flat’s kitchen. Soon enough the sound of popping kernels can be heard. Crowley dives into the other bits and bobs Aziraphale brought up, finding several cushions, bags of pick and mix, bottles of wine, and… a solitary blanket.

“Aziraphale, you only brought one blanket up!” he calls out to be heard over the popping in the kitchen.

The popping stops and a few seconds later Aziraphale appears in the doorway holding a bowl piled high with popcorn.

“I’m afraid there was only one blanket delivered, my dear.”

“What? I ordered about five! Right—” Crowley fishes his mobile phone from his pocket. “—let me call the shop, that’s not on. I’ll give them a piece of my mind until they agree to hand deliver a load more blankets.”

“Oh, Crowley, no. No, please, don’t bother.” Aziraphale rushes over, depositing the popcorn on the coffee table and grasping Crowley’s wrist. “It’s fine. We can can manage with one blanket, it seems plenty big enough!”

Crowley looks up at Aziraphale and frowns. “Are you sure? I wanted you to be able to get as comfy and cosy as possible. How will you be able to do that with just one blanket?”

Aziraphale releases Crowley’s wrist and holds his hand instead. “Oh, we’ll manage,” he says as he squeezes Crowley’s hand.

Crowley squeezes back and smiles.

“So,” says Aziraphale as he drops down on the sofa beside Crowley and throwing the blanket over the pair of them, “what film are we watching first?”

“Definitely this one.” Crowley holds up a DVD.

“Miracle on 34th Street,” Aziraphale reads from the cover.

“You’re going to love it, angel.”

Aziraphale does love it. He awws over the young girl and her disbelief in Santa, he gasps at the arrest and mistreatment of Kris Kringle, and he sobs with joy at the city’s support and belief in him. Over the course of the film, while reaching for their glasses of wine and handfuls of popcorn, they inch closer together under the blanket.

Next, Crowley puts on The Grinch, hoping to elicit an eye roll and begrudging smile from Aziraphale at its over the top silliness but undeniable feel-good fun. He’s disappointed—Aziraphale laughs along with genuine delight the entire time, which is actually infinitely better.

Of the Grinch, Aziraphale says, “Oh look, Crowley, it’s you!”

“First of all, that shade of green is not my colour, and secondly… I’m not that bad am I?” Crowley can hear the slight whine in his own voice, but can’t prevent it. “I made mulled wine. I wore your ugly jumper. I’m here, wearing blasted antlers and watching Christmas films with you.”

Aziraphale’s face, previously alert and grinning, becomes soft. “No, my dear, you’re not that bad at all.” Underneath the blanket, Aziraphale’s hand comes to rest on Crowley’s knee.

By the third film they have cracked open the pick and mix, ready for a sugar high to see them through another few hours. When the Home Alone 2 titles start rolling, Aziraphale sits up, suddenly anxious.

“But I haven’t seen the first one!” he cries.

“There’s no need.” Crowley pulls at Aziraphale’s shoulder until he settles back on the sofa again, this time in the crook of Crowley’s arm. “This is exactly the same at the first film, except it’s set in New York and just… ten times more Christmassy.”

Aziraphale relaxes even further into Crowley, dropping his head to Crowley’s shoulder and pulling the blanket tighter around them both.

“New York always was nice in winter,” concedes Aziraphale.

When Crowley puts his personal favourite Christmas film on, Aziraphale becomes sceptical. Crowley expected this. He has had this debate with many people on twitter before, and he is prepared.

“How is this a Christmas film?”

All Crowley’s well-rehearsed arguments go flying out the window at Aziraphale’s mocking tone, and Crowley becomes nothing but petulant.

“It’s set at Christmas, during a Christmas party. It counts!”

“They didn’t even name it anything festive.”

“And what would you have called it? Saving the Ho-ho-hostages?”

“Die Hard This Christmas?” suggests Aziraphale immediately. “You’re a Mean One, Mr Gruber? Rocking Around the Nakatomi Tower?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, film forgotten, before bursting into laughter.

The friendly debate and jokes continue throughout the film, and Crowley has never enjoyed watching Die Hard more.

Before they start another film, Crowley extracts himself from the warmth of the blanket—and the warmth of Aziraphale—to nip downstairs for more wine. He passes the open boxes and remembers that his reindeer antlers were supposed to come with a red nose. He kneels down and begins rooting through the masses of popcorn and sweets (he may have over ordered). Having no luck, he pulls out a box from underneath some others and looks inside. His mouth drops open at what he finds.

Dashing back up the stairs, box held in his hands and wine forgotten, Crowley bursts back into the flat’s small living room. Aziraphale is still curled up on the sofa with the one blanket he’d brought upstairs.

Crowley drops the open box containing the other four blankets he’d ordered to the floor at Aziraphale’s feet.

Aziraphale looks down at the box, then up at Crowley. “I can explain.”

Crowley opens his hands, palms up, to indicate that Aziraphale should.

“I got one blanket out of the box and hid the others under other boxes because… because I wanted to snuggle with you, Crowley. Five blankets and a mountain of pillows might be comfy, but it’s not as comfy as you.”

His face feeling flushed all of a sudden, Crowley smiles. “You could’ve just asked, angel.”

Aziraphale demurely looks away as he lifts one side of the blanket he’s still under. He turns back to look at Crowley.

“Will you please come and snuggle me, my dear?”

Before he's even finished speaking, Crowley is on the sofa, under the blanket, and in Aziraphale's arms.

“So,” says Crowley, voice muffled by speaking into Aziraphale’s chest, “shall I take the TV back to the shop tomorrow?”

“Well, now, let’s not be hasty,” says Aziraphale. “There are plenty more Christmas films to watch between now at the 25th.”

Crowley hides his grin under the blanket.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #ace ineffable husbands #ineffably festive #fic: may your days be merry #2020 advent ficlet challenge #i wrote this

26 notes · View notes

writethehousedown · 4 years ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. Red and green were Christmassy colours. Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Harry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Ooh. What is for dinner?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m freezing,” Amber offered again.

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

“Why not?” Amber pouted.

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

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

“Miss West?”

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

“I’m cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right here, bitch!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unprofessional? What are you, forty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about if Hazel stands with you?”

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

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

A nod in reply.

“Go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three…two…one…go!”

“Mary told her husband Joyce.”

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

The little girl nodded earnestly. “Joseph Amber.”

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

“Ohhhhhh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nina put her head in her hands in reply.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, babe. I miss them too.”

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

“I can’t export this video.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What in the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nina frowned, bewildered. “Know what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miss West, will you marry me?

Love, Monet x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

15 notes · View notes

golchaworld · 4 years ago

Text

Meowwy Christmas | N. JM

➳ pairing: na jaemin x fem!reader

➳ genre: fluff, kind of christmassy but oh well

➳ word count: ~1.5k

➳ warnings: cursing, alcohol

➳ summary: the boss’s son has always been a tantalizing mystery...until he isn’t.

A/N: why am I posting a Christmas piece in September? You know just as well as I do.

The office ugly sweater holiday party was annual and mandatory. There was nothing you hated more than putting on a hot, itchy sweater, and hanging out with your annoying coworkers on a Saturday night. But you had to. You knew from experience that it wasn’t something you could get out of, especially because when you tried to cut two years ago, you got a friendly call from your boss asking where you were.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the crowd was a little bit different. But the problem with working at a major publishing company is that the average age in the office was somewhere around 40. Only you and two other workers were under the age of 25, and you tended to stick together. But with Renjun recovering from an appendix removal and Jeno at his sister’s wedding, you knew you would be spending the night alone.

You tugged at the turtleneck of your itchy green sweater as you stood in the tacky foyer of your boss’s home. It was early in the night--too early, in fact, for you to be sweating the way you were. It definitely didn’t help that you were on your third glass of wine, too tempted by the sweet release of alcohol to limit yourself to one glass. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch Phyllis from marketing do karaoke to “Sweet Caroline” completely sober.

The dim lighting of the room reflected off of the glitter and sequins on various sweaters, making your head start to pound lowly. Between that, the cheesy karaoke songs, and the heat of the room, you knew you had to escape somehow. Looking around for an exit, you immediately became flustered. There was no way out without being noticed. You thought you were doing well at concealing your discomfort until a hand tapped on your shoulder.

“Need some air?”

When you turned to face the hand’s owner, you were stunned in your place. You had never seen your boss’s son, only heard stories about through the insane amount of office gossip. Mr. Na was quick to shut down any and all rumors about his son, but the gossip never stopped. One thing that you heard was definitely true. Na Jaemin sure was handsome.

Even in an electric blue, polyester sweater with a tabby cat on the front that said “Meowwy Christmas,” his handsomeness and charm showed through. Maybe it was the way his ringed fingers curled around the neck of a cold beer, or maybe it was the shiny silver Rolex on his wrist. Either way, Jaemin looked like the walking intersection of wealth and beauty.

“No, no, I’m okay…” you answered politely, holding onto the stem of your wine glass that much tighter.

The boy just quirked an eyebrow at you, taking a quick scan of the room before leaning in close. “I know how to get out in a way that no one will see.”

“Sneaking out of the annual, mandatory office party? I think that would be case for dismissal from the company.” You joked back, trying to hide the hitch in your breath at his close proximity.

The boy’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Well then it must be a good thing that my dad can’t fire me.”

“Must be nice,” you scoffed playfully. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of being family.”

The glint in the young man’s eyes seemed brighter than ever. “Fair. So I’ll take that as a yes, you want to get out of here?”

You barely had a chance to smile before the boy was disappearing into the crowd of older bodies. It was difficult to keep up with him, seeing as he undeniably knew his house better than you did. But when you followed him into a dim hallway and down three steps, you were met with a sliding glass door. After taking the first step outside, you smiled widely.

The air felt cool on your skin, soothing the blooming itchy patches on your arms and neck. It was dark outside, the only light coming from the party behind you. Jaemin kept walking in front of you, leading you further out into what you could only assume was the backyard. Three lawn chairs stood unceremoniously in the large patch of grass, and Jaemin claimed one. He patted the seat next to him, and it took a second for your slightly tipsy figure to sit down comfortably.

“I never introduced myself!” You mumbled quietly. “I’m--”

“Y/N,” Jaemin cut you off. “I know. My dad talks about your work all the time. He says that if he didn’t have me, he would let you run the company someday.”

You choked on the red wine that you had been sipping on. “Are you fucking kidding me?! I just do cover designs. It’s only like my third year here. I don’t even work at the main location.”

“I know,” Jaemin chuckled slightly, taking a sip of his frosty beer. “But he loves your work.”

You sighed, letting your head that suddenly felt too heavy rest on the dirty cushion of the lawnchair. You had no idea that your boss thought so highly of you, especially highly enough to talk to his son about you. Either way, you were flattered.

Next to you, Jaemin sat quietly, sipping occasionally on his beer. You momentarily grazed his profile, taking in the sharp curve of his jawline and the softness of his hair. He truly was handsome, a trait that you knew he definitely did not get from his father.

You liked your boss a lot. He was extremely caring and kind hearted when it came to his staff, but you couldn’t help but think he was a little bit selfish for hiding his son from the office. You heard Jaemin worked occasionally at the main office in the city, whereas your desk was located at the smaller outlet in the suburbs. You had never considered a location change...until now.

“So why are you here?” Jaemin suddenly asked, leaning back in his chair comfortably.

“This is mandatory for us normal people, remember?”

Jaemin nodded. “Right. But have you ever thought about coming just to show your face and then leaving early?”

You chuckled, taking another long swig of your wine. “Tried that last year. When I showed up on Monday, Janet and Eunice in editing were telling the whole graphics department that I left for a booty call. So I don’t think that’s the best solution.

Jaemin laughed loudly, clamping a hand over his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be laughing, but that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know. At the time it sucked, but looking back on it, it’s hilarious. They were just salty they haven’t had any dick since their divorces.”

“Cute and sassy, I like it,” Jaemin chuckled.

You turned in his direction, quirking an eyebrow at his still-smiling frame. “Cute?”

“Very. You’re lucky you left the ugly sweater party early last year, because I was literally walking over to ask for your number as you were walking out. I had to wait a whole 365 days to see you again. I was happy to see you in a new sweater this time.”

You looked down at your Grinch-green fuzzy sweater and laughed. “So you have an ugly sweater fetish...cute.”

Now it was Jaemin’s turn to laugh. “I think I’m more just attracted to the beautiful woman who’s wearing the sweater.”

“Smooth,” you teased, letting the last bit of red wine slide down your throat. Despite the warmth flooding to your cheeks, the cold December air was beginning to bite at the tip of your nose. You could tell Jaemin was feeling the same way as he shivered slightly in his seat. “You cold?”

He shook his head. “It’s better than being in the house with all those stuffy people.”

You hummed softly, eyes trained on the house in front of you. You could vaguely see the silhouettes of people in the house, and you chuckled when you saw the dancing had begun. Jaemin seemed to notice at the same time, shaking his head before taking another swig of his beer.

“You know, you never asked me.” You started.

Jaemin looked confused. “Asked you for what?”

“We’ve been out here for well over ten minutes and you haven’t asked me for my number. I thought you would have at least gone with me to my car by now. But maybe that’s just the Meiomi talking.”

Jaemin was taken aback, not used to such a blunt nature in girls. His cheeks began to hold a pink hue, and he wished he could blame it all on the cold. But as he stole a glance at the smirk on your face, he knew it was all you.

“Y/N, are you implying that we should ditch the annual, mandatory ugly sweater office holiday party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you turned to him with a devilish smile. “But for an actual booty call this time.”

#na jaemin #na jaemin imagines #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct #escritos

14 notes · View notes

cynicalrainbows · 5 years ago

Text

The Next Best Thing Chapter 10

Next chapter!

Comments always very welcome and encouraged please!

(And Cathy will mellow towards Anna soon, I promise! Just...y’know, friendship politics are complex when you’re 7.)

Just as Cathy suspected, they hear all about the sleepovers Anna has been on with her friends back in Germany: Greta, who has a swimming pool in the garden that a hedgehog drowned in, and Greta’s Vati had to get it out with a stick, and Hedda, who’s Mutti let them make chocolate crispy cakes for supper, and Sofie, who has an older brother called Mortiz who let them stay in the room while he watched a scary, scary film about a clown that lived in the drain (until Sofie’s Mutti saw what they were watching and gave them popsicles in exchange for promising not to tell their own parents).

It all sounds amazing, except that nothing like that will happen at Anne’s sleepover, Cathy knows.

Anne’s family doesn’t have a pool. Also, Anne’s Mum doesn’t let them in the kitchen (Jane lets Anne bake with her sometimes but the sleepover isn’t at Jane’s house, so that’s no good), and although Anne has an older brother (called George), he doesn’t live with them.

(George lives in London. Cathy has never seen him but she knows that he goes to the Royal College of Art, which is like a school you go to when you’re grown up.

It sounded quite exciting when he first went because it sounded like he was going to paint pictures for a king or a queen, and she and Anne wondered if maybe they’d get to visit him and meet a prince or a princess….but it’s actually nothing like that at all.

Not only does George not paint pictures for anyone even a little bit royal, he doesn’t paint pictures at all.

Instead, he makes sculptures, which are like people made of clay, except Anne hasn’t seen any of them apart from a picture of one she saw by accident that George had sent in a letter. Anne said that the clay person didn’t have any clothes on at all, but that she didn’t really see it properly because her Dad saw she was looking at it and snatched it away and made her go up to her room.

She and Cathy giggled all day at the thought of George spending all his time in London making things like that (it’s more evidence that grown ups are really very strange) but Anne’s Mum and Dad don’t find it funny at all, Anne says.

They do lots of cross sighing about waste of money and terrible life choices and utterly obscene whenever Jane asks about him or when he sends them a Christmas card.

The cards always have pictures that aren’t in the LEAST bit Christmassy on them- once, there was just a photo of a dead cow in a tank- and Anne’s mum and Dad sighed and shook their heads and then put the card in a drawer.

Once, Anne snuck one out for Jane to read to her because George’s handwriting is too scrawly-small for her to decipher.

Happy Holidays and all that jazz to little sis, don’t let them grind you down, and tell Janey thanks for her ceaseless efforts to try and smooth stuff over, stay cool x

She thinks Jane left some bits out because the card was full of writing, written all smudgy like the pen has been pressed too hard into the page, that would have surely meant more words.

But Jane just says the rest is grown up stuff that she shouldn’t worry about.

George hasn’t sent a card for a while though. So chances of him being around to let them watch a scary clown film are low.)

It makes Cathy worried that the lack of older-brothers-with-scary-films and/or swimming pools is going to make Anna turn up her nose at Anne’s sleepover- but she seems just as excited as they are when they’re talking about it.

She shows them both where she’s made a little tally of days to tick off until Saturday in her News book (because the sleepover is sort of like news- it’s news-before-it-happens) and after a while, Cathy gets caught up enough in planning the pillow fortress they’ll make that she stops thinking about how annoying it is that Anna talks about Germany All. The. Time. and thinks about how much fun it will be instead.

Because it will be fun.

Even if Anna is there.

Or maybe because Anna will be there because annoyingly….Anna does have some good ideas.

Sometimes.

And as much as she doesn’t want to, as much as she wants to just hope that Anna goes back to Germany one day soon (or at least to another school)...she actually finds that sometimes, she’s really glad Anna is at their school and not at another.

It’s Anna, after all, who has the idea of excavating the big bit of rock that’s sticking half way out of the school field to see if it’s a dinosaur bone that they’ll be able to sell to a museum for lots of money.

(They don’t get very far, because they have to use twigs instead of proper little trowels and brushes but it’s still exciting to think that maybe that IS what it is and to talk about what it would be like to be famous.)

And it’s Anna who teaches the whole class ‘Feur, Wasser, Blitz, Sturm’ which they get to play instead of normal P.E, and they spend the hour flinging themselves flat to avoid the ‘feur’ (which means ‘fire’) and scrambling up the climbing ropes to escape the ‘wasser’ (which is water), and Cathy thinks it’s a thousand times more fun than having to demonstrate again and again that no matter how hard she tries, she cannot do a cartwheel OR stand on her head for the hundredth time.

So.

Having Anna at the school isn’t ALL bad.

Still, it’s very confusing, and Catalina, for once, is no help at all.

She is in fact annoyingly insistent on telling her that she is to always be ‘nice’ to Anna, and she reminds her lots of times that while she doesn’t have to play with Anna if she doesn’t want to, she is absolutely not allowed to stop Anne from playing with her or from ever discouraging Anna from playing with Anne and I mean it, mija.

She actually looks quite stern and serious when she says it, and it’s a bit uncomfortable to have Catalina look at her like that, so she promises that she won’t.

Still.

It is very confusing.

The days drag until the weekend but eventually, Saturday comes.

She’s so excited she can’t finish her breakfast, so excited that she can barely sit still.

(She’s going to a sleepover like a- well, not a grown up but like one of the older girls at school, like one of the characters on television. It’s breathtakingly thrilling.)

Catalina walks her to Anne’s parents house and reminds her about brushing her teeth and saying please and thank you, then hugs her so tightly that she nearly can’t breathe.

‘It’s going to be strange not having you in the flat tonight, mija.’

Cathy thinks that’s a funny thing to say when not all that long ago she was never in the flat at all- but before she can say it, she realises she sort of understands what Catalina means.

It’s exciting because she’s going to stay at Anne’s house ALL night….but also, she realises now….that means she’s not going to be sleeping in her own room.

The thought of sleeping somewhere else- now that she’s thinking about it- is strange.

Not bad exactly, but...different, and she realises that her bedroom in the flat has become her room rather than her-room-at-Catalina’s-flat without her even noticing it.

She wonders, if she was to sleep in the bedroom of her old house now, whether that would feel like going home or whether it would feel strange.

She wonders if somehow, by some bit of magic or maybe a genie, she was able to sleep in her old bedroom and have everything back to how it was- Mum and Dad in their room down the hall and all her old books, the copies that Catalina didn’t buy back for her, and the clothes that didn’t fit anymore and that got left behind when she was having to pack her things and the toy farm that she didn’t really play with anymore but that she missed the shape of all the same….she wonders if it would feel normal.

Would it feel normal or would she find herself missing Catalina kissing her goodnight and making sure to close the curtains so that there isn’t even the tiniest gap that a scary face could peep through?

(Catalina once asked her what constitutes a scary face.

‘Like a monster, mija?’

She said no because monsters aren’t real obviously but that not being real doesn’t also mean that they couldn’t look through her window if they wanted to and that monster or not, any face looking through her curtains in the dark would be a scary face.

Catalina nodded and said that since the flat is on the fifth floor, she can see how anything at all looking through her window could be rather disconcerting and that she will make sure to always shut her curtains specially tight to keep out any and all mysterious faces.

She likes that Catalina never tries to use adult explanations to make her not be scared of things, she never tells her that she’s being wrong or silly, even when she knows it is, a bit.)

‘Will you miss me?’

(She wonders suddenly if Catalina will enjoy having the flat back to how it was, if it will make her miss not Cathy but her old life.)

But Catalina nods emphatically before the worry has really had a chance to take hold.

‘Of course, querida. But you shall have such a wonderful time and tell me all about it tomorrow, yes?’

She nods.

‘And you’ll be able to give Anne her birthday present too.’

(She refused to make a card for Anne- although she normally would: card making still makes her feel a bit sick. But she’s proud of how fancy her writing inside the shop brought card looks- all in joined up writing and written with Catalina’s special expensive heavy fountain pen. And she’s proud of the wrapping paper- green with little red dinosaurs all over it- and of the green ribbon it’s tied up with (and of how she managed to curl the ends with scissors all by herself) and she’s most proud of the present itself.

It’s hard picking out presents for Anne, just because she gets new toys a LOT.

(Kitty does too but she often doesn’t play with them because according to Kitty, Pink Kitty would be sad. For some reason, she prefers hunching up in the playhouse Jane made her out of a fridge box with Pink Kitty to riding in her tiny pink electric car.

Neither Cathy nor Anne can understand this.)

Anne doesn’t have loyalties like that- she likes getting new things.

Not just for her birthday or Christmas- last year, Anne got a big new dollhouse for no reason at all and it was the best surprise ever because it just turned up one day in the playroom without a word being said.

It did spoil it just a tiny bit that getting the dollhouse meant she didn’t get anything for her birthday a week later (because apparently only very greedy little girls would have expected another present after getting the dolls house, according to Anne’s mum) but the dollhouse itself was still excellent, with its lights that turned on and off and all the furniture that matched.

It does make it hard to choose presents for Anne though, because she has so much stuff.

Still. She’s very proud of this present.

They’re standing on the doorstep for all of this, and they haven’t knocked yet, so it’s a surprise when the door opens right up and Catalina gives a very little scream and puts her hand to her chest.

‘Catalina! And Cathy! How are you both?’

Jane is standing in front of them, smiling delightedly, and there’s a small pink Kitty-sized figure holding onto her hand.

Cathy waves at her and Kitty hides her face in Jane’s skirt.

‘Anne will be so happy you’re here, Cathy! And-’ Jane lowers her voice slightly, turning to Catalina. ‘It’s so good to be able to say thank you again. For-….’

‘Oh it was nothing-’ Catalina waves her hand, and with it, waves away all the scariness from last week. ‘No trouble at all.�� She cranes her neck a little to look behind Jane. ‘Hello, Kitty.’

Kitty presses herself further into Jane, whimpering until Jane picks her up.

‘Can you hello nicely to Catalina, Kitty-Kat?’

It does not seem, from the lack of response, like she can.

‘She isn’t scary!’ Cathy adds earnestly. She’s trying to be helpful but both Jane and Catalina smile as if she’s said something funny, and then Jane’s smile fades.

‘Sorry, she’s just going through a-’

‘It’s completely fine-’

‘Strangers are just-’

‘Honestly, don’t worry-’

‘We’re working on it-’

While they’re talking, Kitty risks peeking out at them all- and then stares, transfixed.

After a moment, they all follow her gaze- to the necklace Catalina is wearing. It’s a little silver tiger on a chain- one of Cathy’s favourites and she can see immediately why Kitty is taken with it too.

‘Do you like it, Kitty?’

Kitty flinches back at Catalina talking to her directly- but then pauses before burying her face in Jane’s neck again, as if she’s weighed up her options and chosen to keep looking at this new and wonderful thing.

She nods solemnly, not taking her eyes off it.

‘Would you like to hold it?’

She nods again.

‘You don’t have to-’ Jane interrupts. ‘It’s kind of you to offer but please don’t feel like you have to- We can look with our eyes not our hands, sweetheart.’

‘Oh it’s alright, it wasn’t at all expensive.’ Catalina unclasps the necklace and takes it from around her neck. ‘And I’m sure Kitty will be very, very gentle.’ She pauses. ‘Won’t you?’

There’s a little pause- and Cathy wonders if Kitty has exhausted her communicative powers for the day, maybe she isn’t even going to nod anymore.

Then- ‘Yes’ Kitty replies, in a very tiny voice.

She looks up into Catalina’s face for the first time and, when Catalina nods a Go Ahead nod, holds out a hand to gently stroke the tiny tigers little head.

‘Good girl.’ Catalina keeps hold of the chain, but holds it loosely so that Kitty can thoroughly investigate the silver charm with her own small fingers.

She turns it over and over, looks into the tiny face and mews experimentally and then gently strokes it with her forefinger like she’s petting a very tiny cat.

After a moment, she leans back and whispers something to Jane, who smiles and shakes her head.

‘I don’t know, darling. Why don’t you ask Catalina?’

Kitty’s voice is tinier than the tiger. ‘What’s it called?’

Catalina smiles at her. ‘She doesn’t have a name yet. I never thought to give her one.’

Cathy opens her mouth to correct her- it’s true Catalina never gave her tiger necklace a name herself but only because Cathy asked her the same question when she was around Kitty’s age.

She’s just about to tell Kitty that the tiger's name is Stripey, when Catalina gives her hand a quick, tiny squeeze, and she knows, just knows, somehow, without anyone saying anything, that she shouldn’t say a word.

‘What do you think would be a good name for her?’

Kitty hesitates for a moment, thinking hard. ‘Silver Kitty’ she says at last. Her voice is a tiny bit stronger.

Catalina nods decisively. ‘Then Silver Kitty she is.’

‘Give her back now, Kitty Kat’ Jane says, and Kitty reluctantly lets go.

‘What do we say to Catalina?’

‘Thank you.’

‘And thank you for the excellent name.’ Catalina says, scooping her hair out of the way to fasten the necklace back on.

Jane is smiling and blinking a bit too much. She sets Kitty back on her feet so that she can help Catalina fumble with the tiny clasp and Cathy catches her whisper.

‘-first time she’s- ever since- thank you so much-’

Catalina murmurs a quick ‘You’re welcome’ back, and then raises her voice slightly and says they should probably let the girls get started with the sleepover and Jane says yes, yes, she’s sorry to have held them up and would Catalina like to pop in for a cup of tea at her own house next door, and Catalina says yes, that would be lovely-

-and then Anne is pulling open the door wearing a new tshirt made of very shiny green fabric that is almost like scales and Catalina is giving her a last kiss goodbye and Anne is grabbing Cathy’s hand and pulling her inside, to where there is already music playing and the tempting smell of birthday cake.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #sixfic #six fanfiction #the next best thing

25 notes · View notes

slut-4-beetlejuice · 5 years ago

Text

CHRISTMAS!!! but make it Beetlejuice

So, after dying and being resurrected by the sheer force of my rage, I made some Christmas head cannons for beetlejuice!! Cause ima sucker for the holidays. Heads up, the reader is red for this one.

-Bj has never celebrated Christmas. You're not totally shocked by this though, because well, hes a dead guy. And his mom sucked. And they dont really have christmas in the Netherworld

-He is SUPER FUCKING STOKED about the concept though.

-"so, it's like that Thanksgiving thing but now with presents and candy!! Why have all of you kept this from me?!"

- "I'm sorry beej, it just didnt seem like your thing"

-"not my thing?!?! How is this not my thing babes?!"

-"well, technically, you're supposed to be good to get the gifts"

-"oh. So, its emotional blackmail then"

-hes still super happy and excited for it. He loves singing Christmas carols, though, with the wrong lyrics

- good fucking luck convincing him the lyrics arent "Deck the halls and fight aunt Shirley!"

-he also loves to help decorating! Hes a little confused but hes got the right spirit

-"skeletons arent very christmassy BJ"

-"but I put a Santa hat on him. And Christmas lights!"

-"but...ya know, fair enough"

-not a fan of elf on a shelf.

-at all.

-shits not right.

-you tried it for a few days, but stopped when you caught him waterboarding the elf "for answers"

-your tree is decorated all black, green, and purple, just so ya know

-he gets more and more hype as the day comes. On christmas eve he actually changes his stripes. He makes them red and green just for the occasion

-youre a little shocked, but he rocks it like a champ.

- "imma christ-mass icon babes!"

-"its Christmas Beej"

-"sane difference, were still celebrating the birth of a dead guy"

-you couldn't even argue with him cause it was right

-on the eve of the Christmas he couldn't even sleep. He was so excited. Not so much for the gift you god him, but for the gift he got you.

-wait, he got you a gift? How did he get you a gift?

-dont worry about it, just know you're gonna love it

-he wakes you up at 6 and carrys you to the living room, still in your PJs

-he insists you save his for last

-you got him a chocolate box where tbe looks like bugs, a bottle of black nail polish, and the movie Nightmare before Christmas

-he loves it so much he almost crys. No one has ever really thought of him that much before.

-he couldn't believe you remembered him complaining about being out of nail polish. Or that you really bothered at all. It's so weird to him how caring you are, and just makes him love you even more.

-ok your turn.

-it was only one gift, it was all he could really afford but it was gorgeous.

- it was a necklace. It had a rainbow metal beetle, with a gorgeous black diamond in it, hanging off a simple silver chain.

-"i hope you like it babes"

-"like it? Lawrence I fucking love it!"

-his hair is a bright ass pink as he put it on you

-"you look gorgeous"

-after all the festivities, even Beej was feeling a little worn out.

-you curled up with him and a blanket on the couch, watching nightmares before Christmas

-Beetlejuices hair was so green, with streaks of hot pink

-he seemed so content. You couldn't help put smile at your bug man

-"merry Christmas Beej"

-"merry Christmas Babes"

(I fucking LOVE CHRISTMAS!!! I love Halloween too, but I FUCKING LOVE CHRISTMAS and I had to be a self indulgent fuck and write Christmas beetlejuice. And you got me all kinds a FUCKED UP if you think this is going to be my last Beetlejuice christmas themed....thing. lmao, as always constructive criticism is always welcomed! And I'd love to know what you guys think!!)

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice musical #betlegeuse #beetlejuice hc #beetlejuice headcanon #Christmas #christmas headcanon #headcannons #beetlejuice Christmas

121 notes · View notes

the-witch-and-her-husbands · 4 years ago

Text

All That Glitters

(Author’s note: cut for length)

George stirred, turning over heavily enough to shake the mattress.

As if by instinct he reached out to put his arm around his girl, only to come up empty. She wasn’t in her usual spot, the space directly next to him unoccupied.

He opened his eyes blearily.

The sight of their other partner greeted him, in his usual position on the other side of the bed. Hans was still sound asleep, flat on his back and breathing deeply.

But there was something different about him.

George squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The lower half of Hans’ face appeared to be bright, glittery green - no. It was his BEARD that was sparkling, apparently completely drenched in green glitter.

The absurdity of how the man looked caused George to laugh aloud.

This caused Hans to stir. ‘What is amusing you?’ he mumbled sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes.

‘You,’ George replied with a chuckle. ‘You oughta see your face! It’s a picture! Your beard has done been glitterbombed!’

‘What?’ Hans muttered, beginning to sit up now that George had got his attention. He ran a hand over his beard, and sure enough it came back with bits of green glitter upon closer examination.

He turned and looked at George, raising an eyebrow before answering with laughter of his own. ‘It seems like I am not the only one. You should see yourself!’

‘WHAT!’ George roared, leaping out of bed to study himself in the mirror, turning his head this way and that. For his beard had been subject to the same treatment that Hans’ had undergone, only bright Christmassy red instead of gleaming green.

‘JILOMENA!’ he exploded. ‘I’M GOING TO TAN YOUR HIDE UNTIL IT GLOWS IN THE DARK!’

There was no answer. Clearly, the guilty party had fled the scene of her crime under a sense of self-preservation.

‘Do not worry. We will find the little shit, and make her pay,’ Hans growled, slipping out of bed and stepping into his trousers.

The two of them went on the hunt for the female member of their triad, plotting what they were going to do to her along the way.

‘I say we string her up from a tree, and take it in turns to whack her,’ George fumed, poking at the underbrush with a stick.

Hans said nothing by way of response, turning his head this way and that to try to deduce where the girl might have gone by process of elimination. She wasn’t in the house, so that left one of the outbuildings on their property. He began to head towards the large barn.

‘Or we can sit together, put her over both of our laps at once and whack her together!’ George continued, undeterred by his partner’s lack of input as he continued to plot the revenge they were going to impart the minute they found her.

‘No,’ Hans answered this time in a low voice. They’d just reached the barn door, and he didn’t want their conversation to frighten off their prey. ‘That would get it over with too quickly. We want to prolong it, make her repent for her crime.’ He opened the door and quietly strode in, George hot on his heels. ‘Jilomena?’ His tone was soft, cajoling. ‘Where are you?’

No answer, although he could have sworn he heard a giggle from behind one of the stacks of hay. He nodded to George, signalling for him to be quiet as he indicated where he thought the noise had come from.

‘It’s Christmas,’ Hans continued in the same sweet manner. ‘You don’t want to miss out on your presents, do you? We have something special we want to give to you....’

This time, there was a rustle from behind the haystack. Perhaps she was going to give herself up, but Hans wasn’t taking any chances. He motioned that George should act.

‘GOTCHA!’ George bellowed triumphantly as he leapt into the hay, managing to catch his quarry.

‘ARGH! HELP!’ Jilomena squirmed as she tried to free herself, but it was to no avail. The grip that George had on her was far too tight.

‘Well done, George.’ Hans was smiling as he surveyed the wriggling girl, held tight in the clasp of her captor. ‘Let’s take her to the house....’

‘No!’ George spat, looking around for somewhere suitable to sit. He finally found an old wooden bench in a corner and began to move towards it, taking his unlucky hostage of fortune with him. ‘I’m not taking any chances that she’s going to wriggle away! She’s getting her hide tanned, and she’s getting it NOW!’ He sat, dragging her across his lap so she was facing the floor. ‘You can join me, or you can take your turn afterwards! Now fetch me my paddle, and make it quick!’ He began to tug at her skirts and bloomers.

This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, Hans mused as he went to collect the paddle from its place in their dresser. George could get his fill of revenge now, and then afterwards he would exact his. It would stretch it out this way, rather than her being punished all in one go. As enticing as the idea of both of them giving her a much deserved hiding at the same time was in theory, his way was better. After they were both done with her she would be a very sorry girl indeed.

He surveyed their other instruments of punishment, trying to decide which he would choose for himself. The birch rod? A switch? A strap? All of those seemed slightly excessive on top of the paddling she was about to receive at the hands of George. After all, the punishment had to fit the crime, and there were far worse things she could have done than a bit of Christmas mischief. Still, she had to be taught a lesson about who was in charge. Certainly not a certain naughty little lady, that was for sure and for certain.

His eye fell upon her hairbrush, lying innocently on the dresser top. It was a sturdy one, boar’s hair, made of solid mahogany. Perfect. The old ways really were the best ways.

Hans picked it up along with the paddle and made his way back to the barn, merrily whistling a Christmas tune. He knew George would be growing impatient to paddle the girl. The thought of watching her writhe half-naked over George’s knee as he reddened her behind was making Hans grow hard in his trousers. He hurried his pace, anxious to see the show begin.

By the time he got back, Jilomena was as Hans had expected. Her bare bottom half was high in the air. It looked like some of her clothing had been slightly torn in George’s haste. No matter, it could be fixed later. He could hear her pleas, a futile attempt to save her skin. It was falling on deaf ears. Try as she might to escape, George had a tight grip around her waist. She wasn’t going anywhere until he decided that she’d had enough.

‘Took your time,’ George snarled as he all but snatched the paddle out of Hans’ hand.

‘I was choosing an implement,’ Hans replied calmly, as he found himself a seat on a bale of hay where he could watch her paddling being administered. ‘Besides, anticipation makes a thing all the sweeter, does it not?’

The only reply George made was to raise his hand and bring the paddle down firmly against the girl’s backside.

‘OWW!’ The force of the blow made her gasp, eyes wide. ‘George! Hans! Boys! I’ll be good! I swear it, I....OWW!’

The paddle was brought down again, and then again and again. She writhed and cried out, but George wasn’t in a mood to be merciful. Her bare flesh was turning pink and then red as he rained down a flurry of smacks upon it.

Hans sat and watched, a serene smile upon his face. He was growing slightly impatient for his turn, but he wasn’t about to stop George from having his fill of punishment. Her gasps and yells and cries were like a symphony, the paddle providing a steady percussive counterpart to her vocals as it raised and fell, coming down against her posterior time and time again.

Finally, George stopped, apparently satisfied that she’d been paddled sufficiently. Or perhaps his arm was too tired to continue paddling her, it was difficult to say. He had no words to add to the subject, merely wearing a satisfied grin.

She lay limply over his lap trying to catch her breath, not daring to move.

‘My turn.’ Hans stood suddenly, gesturing that George should get up so he could occupy the bench. He mused that perhaps they would make it her spanking bench from then on, it did seem well suited for the purpose. Out to the barn and onto the spanking bench, that would make her punishments even more meaningful. Their version of a trip to the woodshed, perhaps.

George gave her backside a slap, causing her to moan. ‘Get up, girlie. It’s Hans’ turn to tan you now!’ He chuckled evilly at the thought of her bright red bottom being subject to further abuses. His prediction of it glowing in the dark might certainly come true.

She got to her feet, George supporting her for a moment before he and Hans changed places.

‘If you need me to, I’ll hold her down for her hiding,’ George announced cheerfully as he helped position her over Hans’ lap before taking his seat.

Hans chose not to comment. Instead, he spent a good five minutes soothing the girl, running his hand gently over her sore bottom in a comforting caress.

George frowned, wondering what the devil Hans was playing at, but said nothing for the moment. He hoped Hans wasn’t backing out of giving their girl her much deserved punishment.

In fact, it was nothing of the kind. Hans was just allowing her a chance to get over some of the worst of the burning in her backside, before he proceeded to light it up all over again.

‘Do you know why I am about to give you another spanking?’ His voice was calm, honeyed and smooth as he continued his careful stroking.

‘Because I gave you glitter beards?’ She gulped, swallowing hard.

‘Because we are reminding you who is in charge,’ he corrected with a soft chuckle, still stroking her. ‘We are in charge here, not a certain naughty little lady. And what happens to naughty little ladies, hmm?’

‘They get spanked,’ she sighed, resigned to her fate. “But George has already given me a paddling!’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ The same tone of gentle amusement. ‘They get a good spanking. And George has indeed paddled you. But I have also been given a glittering beard, have I not? And both of us are in charge, not just one of us. Therefore, you are going to be given another spanking to be administered by me.’ With that, he stopped his caresses and raised his hand to begin spanking her with the hairbrush.

‘OWW! AH! PLEASE!’ She writhed and cried, to no avail. The hairbrush met her bottom again and again, quickly turning it the same hue as before.

‘I do believe that matches my beard!’ George laughed, highly amused at her predicament.

Hans was a bit more methodical in his application of what he considered to be a ‘good spanking.’ The smacks were even, spaced several seconds apart to allow the sting to blossom fully before he applied the next. George spanked hard and fast, but Hans preferred a more measured approach, ensuring that every square inch of her lower buttocks was spanked thoroughly and completely, especially her sit spots and the crease where thigh joined bottom.

Only once he was satisfied with the uniformity of his handiwork did he pick up the pace and begin to rain down spanks faster.

By this time all Jilomena could think about was the blazing inferno that was formally her rear end. She kicked and squirmed and cried out, trying desperately to escape her torment, but it was to no avail. Like George, Hans was far bigger and stronger than she was and she wouldn’t be going anywhere until he decided she’d been spanked thoroughly.

Finally, the hairbrush was dropped to the floor, and he was caressing her back comfortingly. ‘Good girl.’ He helped her to her feet, George quickly stepping up so they could help her to the house where they would spend the next half an hour giving her cuddles and reassurances. ‘Good girl,’ he repeated. ‘You did ever so well, taking your punishments.’

‘Yeah. You did,’ George echoed.

They half supported, half carried her down the path, until they reached the front door to go inside.

‘This is certainly a Christmas I’ll remember,’ Hans mused later when they were all laying on the bed in a heap of limbs, Jilomena tucked in between the two of them to receive their soothing embraces.

‘I’ll say.’ George smirked. ‘She’s gonna be eating Christmas dinner sitting on a block of ice!’ The two men laughed.

The only other sound to be heard was a low moan.

#drabble #v:the sheriff the thief and her lover #lemon #tw:spanking #tw:paddling

2 notes · View notes

anonymoushouseplantfan · 5 years ago

Text

Mea Culpa Post

Yesterday (I think) I answered an anon and posted my favorite 2019 Cambridge moments. Unfortunately, I was a complete idiot and I made an absolutely unforgivable mistake. I mistook India for Pakistan which is horrible and offensive. I offer no excuses because that was 100% inexcusable. I was a dumbass, I should have been more careful, and I am deeply mortified by this mistake. People do this to my heritage country all the time and I know exactly how hurtful and offensive it is. I offer my heartfelt apologies to the Paskitani, Indian and South Asian readers I offended and to the reader who sent in the anon and I thank all the anons who (very gently and politely) called me out on it. I am deeply and truly sorry.

Here’s the post with the correct country. Again, I apologize.

“LOL, I’m super conservative so I HATED that look [this was referring to Kate’s pink christening outfit as the skirt was too short for my taste], but I agree with you. I bet Will loved it.

My favorite 2019 moment was the Christmas Tree Stand visit with the green sweater and red jacket. It was soooo Christmassy.

The Opera House visit was another 2019 highlight for me. Other event highlights would include the Chelsea Flower Show visit (and the garden!), particularly the wrecking ball pic (which I hated at first, but then it grew on me). The loser spoon at the regatta was another highlight. The impromptu stop during the Pakistan trip where they hung out with locals was another (including the pics and the goat!). The dog shelter [another mistake as it was a military dog center] visit during the same tour was great.

Other dress highlights would include the white and green and white outfits she wore during the Pakistan tour, the black McQueen she wore during the diplomatic dinner, the regatta shorts, and the blue outfit at Wimbledon.

KP had some real hits in 2019. The Wimbledon visits where Kate first sat in the stands with friends and then arrived with Pippa were brilliant. The arrival pic in Pakistan was crazy good. The first day of school photo op was lovely. Their photographs are a lot better and they are using more video, which is great. They ‘re also a little cheeky in their pics now, which I love. They not only put up the “wrecking ball” pic, they also put up the George “pudding stabbing” video, and Kate’s “Elf Workshop” pic.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B6diw3BlYzr/

https://www.instagram.com/p/B5sZgH7FqlJ/

As you guys know, I really hated the wrecking ball when it came out, but I’ve come around and now I appreciate this humorous undertone they’ve adopted. I feel like we are seeing more of their personality coming through.

There have been some fails, though. I hated the Ascot outfit. The Early Years “rollout” floundered and I feel they never properly explained what it was. I’m still not sure if it’s going to be an umbrella charity like Heads Together, a big crossover project like their mental health stigma campaign, or just an overarching theme for Kate’s ongoing work. Mind you, any of these would be great and I think the individual initiatives she has done (midwives, the forum, the gardens, the television specials, the new patronage) have been wonderful. I just felt they never properly explained what the heck Early Years was supposed to be and that has undermined the overall impact of the work. Also, the Christmas card was kind of meh and I’m on the fence about the Mary Berry special.

The biggest fail, however, was dealing with the Rose rumors. They overreacted and ended up adding fuel to the fire. It’s weird because they handled the ski trip drama perfectly, but completely dropped the ball on this one. 2019 was the year that proved that “never complain, never explain” is a wonderful motto.

Overall, however, it was a fantastic year for the Cambridges. I think they have become more confident and self-assured and they seem more willing to experiment. I’m very much looking forward to what they do next year.”

I’d also like to add Kate’s white grecian gown and the gray tweed suit to my 2019 favorites. Plus I’d like to add the tiny purses and the total clothing budget to the 2019 fails. Yes, I know Meghan spent more money on fewer appearances, but that was still too much money spent on clothes.

#apology #I'madumbass #2019faves #2019fails

44 notes · View notes

theskystillwakesup · 5 years ago

Text

MERRY PITCHMAS @introvert-luce !!!!

I hope you have wonderful day and a beautiful year ahead of you! I was your secret santa and I hope you enjoy your gift :) !!

Words: 2410 Rating: T Pairing: Beca/Chloe AO3: coming soon!

Beca Mitchell does not like Christmas.

She doesn’t hate it, but she's neither fond of the holiday nor the days around it. The stretch from late December to early January is just a melancholic, monotonic blur that bleeds into itself and it’s not exactly a good time for her. The days are cold, dull and depressive, doing nothing to help her already pensive mood around that time of the year.

She’s just never celebrated the holidays, period. Her family was as messed up as it could get right before a divorce, and nobody really wants to celebrate a thing like that, not even a five-year-old who was all too aware of what was going on around her.

Back at Barden, she just used to take part in the gift exchange with everyone else and help with errands if they were short on people – it didn’t hurt to do any of that. Afterwards, she used to chill out with the Bellas that didn’t celebrate the holiday either, and that’s the way she liked it.

She’d normally not be invested in the occasion at all, just simply mail a few cards to her Bellas and call it a day.

But this year, it’s her first Christmas together with Chloe, and she doesn’t know what it’ll hold.

(She has a hard time believing that Chloe’s actually her girlfriend as it is.)

Chloe understands her perfectly and wouldn’t prod her about doing something. If Beca doesn’t want to do anything with her, she knows she can tell Chloe and two will plan the day according to both their wishes and reach a compromise.

But that’s the thing: this year, she wants to spend the holiday with Chloe. She wants to see where it takes them and what it’s like when it’s just the two of them.

Most of all, she wants to make sure Chloe loves it.

The first thing they do is go Christmas shopping.

Chloe’s face is gleaming as she looks around the streets, eyes drawn to those shops that are already way too decked up even if the holiday’s less than 2 weeks away. Beca deems it too early for any sort of decoration, and honestly, it’s a bit of an eyesore.

But she glances at Chloe again, noticing how content the woman looks and smiles to herself. If it’s making Chloe smile, it’s not stupid.

“Beca, are you alright?” Chloe voice shakes her from her musings, and she shakes her head before meeting Chloe’s eyes. “What? Yeah, I’m fine.” “You kind of zoned out for a while there, are you sure?”

Beca doesn’t even think before she replies.

“Yeah, it’s just that you were looking, like, really pretty, so…”

Color rushes to her cheeks, and she can’t believe she just said that out loud. Smooth, Mitchell, she thinks. She looks at her feet, shuffling them together to break the silence and wonders how awkward Chloe felt.

(Okay, fuck it, Chloe’s her girlfriend, she’ll tell her she’s pretty anytime. But still, that doesn’t make her feel any less embarrassed. Her college self is facepalming herself big time.)

Soft fingers lace with hers, and she looks down to see their intertwined hands. There’s a press of lips against her cheek, and Chloe’s face splits into a soft smile. Beca knows Chloe’s understood what she was trying to say – she doesn’t need words to know that.

Giving their hands a quick squeeze, Chloe tugs her into her into a huge, overly red and white shop.

As daunting as the rows upon rows of weird trinkets and eatables look, Beca thinks she’ll just about do anything and go anywhere as long as she’s with Chloe.

Beca’s bored three minutes into their shopping trip.

Frankly, the displays of red, white and green are making her sick and every time she sees a gallant looking Christmassy sculpture she wants to barf. What happened to the simplicity of decorations?

Chloe seems to be entirely unaffected by any of this, and easily picks out whatever she needs. Beca can recognize the basics, like fairy lights and tree ornaments, but most of the other things in the cart are a mystery to her.

For her, the holiday’s never been more than what she’s seen in movies, and it’s not like she has any memorable times from when her father tried to celebrate it with her. There’s a snippet in her mind, of what it would have been like to celebrate the holiday like most other families do. It’s enough to make her feel like she’s missed out on a lot, and sometimes she wonders if she’ll ever get to feel that.

She guesses that growing and maturing in life really does make you want the things you couldn’t have cared less about ten years ago.

Chloe’s voice snaps her out of her brooding thoughts yet again, and she sees the woman waving her over, probably asking for her opinion on something she has no idea about.

Chloe explains to her that they’re in a grave situation, and that Beca must help her pick the best flavour of marshmallows or everything will absolutely go to hell.

(Beca thinks, that with Chloe and the bellas, she’s already got the family she’d never had.

And with Chloe, the future she wants doesn’t seem too far off.)

Beca had thought shopping was going to be the most tedious part about the festive season. But half an hour into their attempt to hang up some fairy lights, she’s done.

“Chloe, I can’t do this anymore. Why are the walls so high? I knew we shouldn’t have bought this place.” She whines, shakily balancing herself on a ladder that is bound to fall any second.

“You’re just short, Beca.” Chloe replies from the other side of the room, neatly winding the wires around nails and over picture frames.

“It’s not like you’re any taller.” Beca mutters under her breath. “I heard that. It’s why we use something called ladders, Becs.” “Can’t I just do something else? I really don’t think I’m doing it right.” “How can you possibly mess up hanging a fairy light?” “Try me.”

Sure enough, when Chloe turns around and sees the lopsided mess of wires and bulbs that was supposed to be cute and organized, she sighs and shakes her head.

Chloe tells her to hold the stream of lights for her while she tacks them to the wall, which basically means that all Beca has to do is stand by the ladder and pull the wire when Chloe asks her to.

In the three hours that it takes for them to finish, Beca nearly remains silent, while Chloe does the talking. She talks about everything – her vet school life, the animals she’s treated, that one puppy that wouldn’t stop clinging to her and Beca listens promptly, drinking it all up, eyes never leaving Chloe.

She’s positive that it’s at least the third time she’s hearing Chloe bring up the same incidents, but she could listen to the redhead talk all day. Their time together is already limited, with Chloe still having a few months more of vet school all the way in Davis, and Beca’s producing career just on the verge of taking off.

She’ll take what she can get for now.

Chloe’s laughter interjects the conversation every now and then, her eyes filled with mirth, and it makes Beca feel warm in a way she’s never felt before.

There are boxes open all over the floor, bits of paper strewn across the rug, pieces of tape stuck to her pants and lights illuminating the whole room.

(She could probably stay like this forever, she thinks, depressing holiday season be damned.)

They do their gift shopping separately, and Beca absolutely wrecks her brain trying to find Chloe a perfect one. Chloe’s the kind of person who’d be perfectly content with anything Beca gets her, and that doesn’t exactly help her narrow down her options.

Ultimately, a bracelet in a jewelry shop catches her eye, silver and glistening. It’s expensive, but not exactly unaffordable thanks to her salary. It has certain tiny engravings on it that she knows Chloe will love, and at this point, not buying the bracelet is out of the question – she herself loves it.

As she pulls out her card and pays, she thinks of Chloe’s smile, of sunlight glinting off the band in the early mornings, of the cool metal resting against her skin.

Yeah, she can’t wait for Christmas to come around and give Chloe her present.

Christmas day comes around faster than any of them had anticipated, and before they know it, they’re getting ready to host Stacie and Aubrey for the evening. The two were the only two Bellas who were close enough to visit them, with all the others promising to visit some other time.

They’d spent the morning lazing around and doing absolutely nothing - Beca’s ideal morning - which naturally meant that their entire afternoon is spent preparing dinner and doing other errands around the house.

A few minutes after they’ve just wrapped up and Chloe’s busy getting ready, Beca answers the door to reveal Stacie and Aubrey. Stacie pulls her into a bone crushing hug, while the blonde is too busy checking out her loft, admiring the place as soon as Beca ushers her in.

“Okay, I think I now understand why Chloe’s dating you.” Aubrey remarks.

Stacie lets out a snort at that, and Beca simply rolls her eyes. She knows Aubrey’s pulling her leg, but she can’t resist a little jab at the woman either.

“Are you jealous? I can set up a trust fund for you if you want.”

This time, Stacie laughs at the retort, clearly amused by the two, while Aubrey simply glares at her.

Chloe walks in just as Aubrey’s about to respond, dressed in a flattering sweater and jeans. She gives an exasperated sigh as soon as she sees the two women glaring at each other - she’s seen this scene play out in front of her too many times before.

“Are you two seriously doing this? On Christmas?” “Aubrey started it!” “Nobody asked you to continue it!”

“Sometimes I still have trouble believing you’re both adults.” Chloe states, and Aubrey cracks a smile before rushing over to Chloe and hugging her tightly.

They drink a little wine before dinner, and once they’re done eating Chloe says words that makes Beca’s blood run cold.

“Beca, it’s time for you to put on your sweater.”

Chloe doesn’t have to specify which sweater she’s talking about.

The color drains from Beca’s face and she sits rooted to her spot.

“No.” She answers resolutely. She’s dodged the weird tradition of gaudy Christmas sweaters all her life and she’ll be damned if she wears one this year.

“Beca, please?” Chloe asks, her voice syrupy sweet and eyes softened. Usually, a pout is enough for Chloe to get what she wants, but this is a serious matter. Beca is not going to wear a hideous, bright turtleneck no matter what.

She spares a glance at Stacie and Aubrey, and Aubrey’s having way too much fun stiffling her laughter, while Stacie grins and looks on. Everyone except her is clad in ugly red, white, green and brown Christmas sweaters, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to wear one too.

“No.”

“Come on, Beca, even Aubrey’s wearing one! You can take it off later, just put it on for now.” Chloe insists, clutching a brown paper bag in her hand. Beca doesn’t even know where Chloe procured that from, and frankly, she’s a little scared.

Beca shakes her head again.

“Alright, you know what.”

Chloe grabs her hand and drags her to their bedroom. Beca would be amazed by the feat of strength under different circumstances, mostly ones that didn’t involve ugly sweaters.

The redhead trudges closer to her, backing her up against one of the walls, until their bodies are almost touching. “Wear it, and I’ll make it up to you later.” She whispers in a sultry tone that she knows makes Beca weak.

“I-“

“Thanks.” Chloe says sweetly, before swiftly turning on her heel and walking away, shutting the door on her way out.

Beca glares at the packet lying on the bed and tries not to rip apart the fabric the moment she lays her eyes on it.

It’s the ugliest thing Beca has ever seen.

It’s chunky and gaudy and has a horrendous reindeer sewn into the front of it. The colors make Beca’s eyes hurt and she knows she’s never going to live it down once she walks out the door. The things she does for Chloe…

The moment she walks out the door, to Aubrey’s laughter, Chloe’s giggles and Stacie’s camera going off, she knows there’s no going back.

She resigns herself to wearing the monstrosity for the rest of the evening, and sulks in the corner while the three women finish laughing over her.

She looks at Chloe, doubled over in laughter, clearly enjoying the sight of her wearing something so silly, and decides that maybe it isn’t so bad after all.

(On second thought, she takes it back. The sweater is fucking horrible.)

Stacie and Aubrey leave a few minutes to midnight, and Beca realizes that she never actually got around to giving Chloe her gift. Chloe had given hers in the morning only, but Beca had insisted on waiting till the evening to give hers.

She rushes into their bedroom, rummaging through her closet until she finds the box and runs out to a confused Chloe, standing dazed in the kitchen.

“Close your eyes.” The redhead promptly does as instructed, and Beca takes her right hand in hers.

Beca takes the bracelet and clasps it on Chloe’s wrist. Chloe’s eyes open the moment she feels the cool metal against her skin, and her eyes visibly widen as she takes in the sleek, silvery piece adorning her hand.

“Do you like it?” Beca asks, a little thrown off by Chloe’s lack of a response.Did she go too far?

“I love it, it’s beautiful. You know you didn’t have to get me this.” Chloe lifts the bracelet to her face and examines it closely, awed by its make and design. I know, I wanted to.”

She detaches the hand holding Chloe’s and brings it up to the redhead’s cheek instead, stroking it softly.

“Merry Christmas, Chloe.” She’s never felt this happy greeting someone.

“Merry Christmas, Beca.”

Chloe’s happy, the kind of happy that comes from within your bones, and Beca knows it because Chloe’s eyes are shining and her hands are shaking and she can’t stop smiling.

It’s alright, Beca thinks.

She wouldn’t mind a million more days like this, as long as Chloe’s with her.

#merry pitchmas 2019 #merry pitchmas #bechloe #pp #hope you like this #i might make some edits to it later #introvert-luce #:)

33 notes · View notes