#it makes my blood boil like a freaking tea kettle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anika-ann · 4 years ago

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WINSoD - Pt.4

What You Need (Is What I’m About)

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, one more ;) Word count: 3400

Summary: In which fate has a strange sense of humour, the Maximoffs appear and... well.

Warnings: brief violence, mention of death, messing around in one’s brain, language, cutesy and fluff (yep, it’s all there)

Part 3

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You watched the kettle quiver as the temperature of the water climbed towards the boiling point. You’d like to say your blood was reaching it too, but despite the warm hoodie (Steve’s, naturally), you were feeling coldness seeping into your very core.

You hated waiting for him. You had never been a fan of it, sitting on your ass and stressing until he returned from a mission, bruised and usually bloody, but this time it was something else. This time, you had more than just a vague idea of what he was fighting; you had witnessed it first-hand. An army of fucking robots.

The team had left 43 hours ago, but who the hell was counting, right? Certainly not you. And you had certainly not been feeling the urge to ask Jarvis (R.I.P., my beloved A.I.) like every half an hour for any updates. You weren’t that desperate. You weren’t that scared-

Yeah, not even you were having your bullshit anymore.

You were shivering in cold from losing sleep, terrified and over all out of your mind. Nothing helped to ease your worries. Definitely not the fact they hadn’t made any contact ever since they had left.

They consisted of the usual Avengers team; Nat, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Thor, plus Bucky. All of them under Steve’s attentive command.

Surprisingly, Matt Murdock – also known as a freaking vigilante (a blind lawyer!!) – did not join the quest. He had said that robots were way outside his territory. You would beg to differ, because he punched the robot like a champ, yet you didn’t quite blame him for refusing. Bottomline, you still thought he was pretty swell (not to mention easy on the eyes, but that was beside the point). He had saved your life though, so you might be a bit biased. A lot biased.

Sam Wilson might have fought once too, but he would sit this one out as well. It was not helping your anxiety.

The soft click of the kettle brought you back to reality and you grabbed the handle to pour water into your mug, only to see you failed to actually put a teabag in it.

To be fair, you would have sworn you had done it, but that was just another prove of you losing your mind. At this rate you were about to burn the kitchen down – not that you felt like cooking… or eating for that matter. Steve was out there, in his own sci-fi movie that had somehow become reality and-

You sighed and set the kettle down, reaching for the box with chamomile tea. Taking one bag, you felt a strange gust of wind and curled into the hoodie as a shiver ran down your spine. Was the air-conditioning misbehaving…? Perhaps it was an aftermath of what they called the Ultron mess-

You shook your head, scolding yourself for getting paranoid and went to finally finish the simplest task of making yourself tea.

Only for your blood turning to ice when you noticed the teabag was missing. You had just put it there half a minute ago, you were sure of it. Your heart started hammering in your chest as you spun on your heels, your eyes scanning the room.

The cupboard behind your head clacked and your head swiftly snapped back to it. Feeling your own pulse pounding in your temples, you forced your brain to come up with a rational explanation.

You were losing your mind, you were imagining things, you hadn’t slept in almost two days, your mind was playing tricks on you-

Another gust of wind and the kettle disappeared from your hands, a shriek escaping your lips. On instinct, you opened the drawer and pulled out a knife. You were probably useless with it, basically offering it the potential attacker as a weapon, because they would be able to disarm you and use it to their advantage, but you didn’t give a shit. You felt better being armed.

What the fuck was happening?!

A man suddenly appeared by your left hip, like a hurricane inside of the room, and your body acted on its own, driving the knife in his side.

Or you attempted to; the knife met something solid that could not have been a body and the blond – he was a blond man, younger, hell, looking younger than you, dressed in a jumpsuit – stared at you with his mouth hanging open.

It was only then when you registered a strange red matter--- no, something unsubstantial, like an energy, swirling and changing, hovering around the blade that had stopped an inch from the man’s torso.

“Taka se ubivate, kolibri,” a female voice sounded from the other side of the room, nearly sending you into a cardiac arrest.

Yet, you couldn’t tear you gaze away from the strange man, whose face was now twisted in annoyed grimace as the woman seemed to be scolding him.

What kind of a language was that anyway?

Really not relevant.

There were two strangers in the Tower, in the very same room as you, they could be talking about how to kill you the most painful way and you wouldn’t even know, and for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t you catch a break-

“Ne ti e zabavno, foĭerverk,” he hummed back, his lips spreading in a smile, baffling you to no end. “Zdraveĭ, krasavitse.”

Your hand still on the handle of the knife that was no longer under your control, of which you refused to let go though because you were not a complete idiot, you had no idea what to do.

The man sounded almost friendly, but then again, villains often did. Sleazy. You would know.

A tremble ran through your body and out of nowhere, you made a lightning-fast decision of kicking the man in the crotch.

Your knee only brushed his manhood when your leg was no longer yours. With horror filling every cell in your body, you realized it was caught in the freaky red spiderweb of energy and you couldn’t move it no matter how much you tried.

Tears filled your eyes and suddenly you were free, the man several feet from you. A gorgeous young woman, dressed even more strangely than him – crimson leather jacket, black and half-torn leather leggings with high boots with way too many straps, her outfit completed by sleeves peeking from under her jacket –, stood next to him, cuffing him in the back of his head.

“Idiot!” she hissed and in the back of your mind, the one tiny corner that was not occupied with the fact you might die in the next second, you thanked god for some words being international.

Then, the girl with long wild red hair smiled at you apologetically, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Hello. Sorry for startling you,” she spoke with thick accent which you identified as Eastern-European and shot her companion a murderous look. “My brother is an ass and doesn’t know the difference between being funny and scaring people.”

She didn’t sound menacing at all; in fact, you saw every responsible older sibling annoyed at their younger family member in her. You blinked away the sting in your eyes and attempted to focus despite the ringing in your ears.

“Huh?” slipped from your lips intelligently, utter confusion gradually replacing your despair.

The blond rolled his eyes, which only earned him another clip round his ear.

“See what you’ve done? This is all your fault!”

“I was just messing around!”

“Do you have any idea what she’s been through? You scared her to death!” the woman hissed, effectively sending you back to the spiral of dismay, your slowly calming heartbeat skyrocketing again.

What did she know about what you had been through?!

With your knees wobbly and not to be trusted to keep you upright on their own anymore, you gripped the counter behind you with such force your muscles cramped.

“Who- who are you?” you breathed out shakily, catching the attention of the supposed sibling duo once more.

The woman smiled warmly, patronizingly almost.

“My name is Wanda and this is my brother, Pietro. We are of Sokovia. Your Captain and the other Avengers found us, showing us that we were fighting on the wrong side of things. Would you like to see?”

Her words echoed in your suddenly dull skull, the meaning escaping you.

And because her last sentence was what made sense the most and yet the least, you nodded.

Later, you would realize just how stupid and trusting you had been when agreeing, mostly because Steve gave you his look of disappointment and horror, but at the moment, it seemed right.

Somehow, on a level you couldn’t quite comprehend, you already understood they weren’t a threat to you.

“See how?”

Wanda smiled.

*Like this,* a ghost of her voice sounded somewhere deep in your mind, making you dizzy. What the hell-? *Please, don’t judge me. I thought I was doing the right thing.*

Before you could question such statement or the fact her lips were not moving while you heard her voice crystal clear, you were thrown into a vortex.

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Ultron had been sure they were coming; he left a bait for them, an easy track to follow. The track they could follow towards their end.

Wanda wasn’t one to enjoy killing or hurting people in general, no. She hadn’t even considered herself a strong person once, but that had all changed with their parent’s deaths. She had had to rely on herself – on herself and on her brother. Where an opportunity had risen, to step up their game and possibly to get revenge on the name still haunting them in their worst nightmares, they hadn’t even hesitated.

Wanda had once been a weakling. It had been the tempering in fire, in a burning pain of experimentation with the sceptre that had made her the woman who she was now.

And she had a mission; she and Pietro had a mission, their chance at revenge finally gaining a shape.

She had already played with Stark’s mind, with the scum only interested in money and destruction; now she could do the same to all of them.

Bursting in with a crash, they clearly hadn’t expected such livid counterattack. A response so… nightmare-like.

Just a flick of wrist and a little concentration on Wanda’s part and they were dropping like dead, trapped in their own minds.

Black Widow, locked in a scary base, ballet dancers, martial art training and merciless killing, her fresh fears creating a horror picture of aiming her gun at her current lover’s head, at her soulmate.

“I should have known you’d never change. You’re nothing but human reduced to a murder machine…”

Thor, oh so mighty God, travelling back to his home planet to a feast, legends messing with his headspace, confusion and helplessness, thunder and lightning all around and out of his control.

“You’ll kill us all! See, son of Odin, close your eyes and see!”

The righteous captain, trapped in his own mind, folded like a house of cards under his soulmate’s dead eyes, anger and accusation blossoming into hate and finally indifference.

“You cared about your 40’s sweetheart more, anyway, didn’t you? If it was her in my place, you would have chosen her before the thousands. You wouldn’t let her blow up… but if I’m nothing to you, then you are nothing to me…”

Satisfied with her work, with only a nudge to their consciousness and their own brains doing the work for her, Wanda smirked as she noticed the busy archer. Now what tricks his could mind come up with? What hardship would he get caught in?

As she slowly sneaked behind his back, a voice snarled behind her, causing her heart to stop from more than a simple fright.

“Kak mozhe neshto tolkova malko da prichini tolkova nepriyatnosti?”

Her first reaction to her blood crystallizing in her veins with horror and rage towards the whole fucking universe, was a snarky reply.

How dared he to call her small? Implying she was weak? Underestimating her and saying that she couldn’t cause any real trouble? Oh, she would show him… that arrogant bastard! She would show him trouble-

“Laĭna…ti mi narichash nepriyatnosti?” she hissed back, carelessly losing the sight of the archer, not interested in him in the slightest all of sudden. “Vie ste strana s greshni khora!”

This stranger, this—this man-machine radiating pain as her powers barely brushed the surface of his mind on instinct… he was the real trouble as she didn’t hesitate to tell him. He was on the wrong side of things! Fraternizing with a mass murderer, with her parent’s killer-

“Pone te sa kho—” he wanted to argue, but they his mind stopped before it started screaming, punching her telepathic powers she seemed suddenly unable to turn off.

Memories, a dozen of his own memories, the way he looked at his soulmark in a mirror, the pain, the sorrow, the torture… his encounter with the Avengers, living with them; with the band of heroes she just put down, one by one, teasing and laughter, compassion and acceptance, even from the man who was supposed to be nothing but a cocky heartless bastard-

“What the hell did you just say?” Bucky rasped, astonished and horrified.

He realized it too then. Everyone always did, didn’t they? Because every person with a soulmark awaited a moment like this; the moment someone would finally say the words matching the ones on their skin, met their expectations or not…

But Bucky Burnes was the farthest from Wanda’s dream when it came to a life-long partner.

Strength is tempered in fire, she remembered reading once. She had once found a special irony in the fact that the treatment by the sceptre felt exactly like that. Wanda’s soul turned to steel with the games the fate had played with her.

So why did her hands fell from their defensive position to her side, limp and drained of all strength and determination they had known, tears stinging her eyes.

Her life was shit and she thought she had made her peace with that. But judging by the deep ache in her chest, she had been holding out for her soulmate more than she had thought. Because why else would it hurt so bad when she found out he was an enemy?

“And I thought Romeo and Juliet was just a lot of crap,” she chuckled bitterly, switching to English when he did.

His thoughts scream at her, disbelief, caution, pain, confusion, regret and hope— ambivalence. He had no idea what to do and he hated her for what she had done to his friends, but the knowledge of her being his, supposedly, it torn him in half, reaching out with willingness to forgive her if she fixed it, because if anyone understood fighting at the wrong side it was him--

Unable to resist, she dug deeper into his mind, baring his very soul, fascinated.

Pietro was still fighting with the archer and Stark, dodging the lame attempts at attack of the Avengers lost in their minds, but for two people, the time stopped.

They stood against each other, staring and motionless, and Wanda was confident she saw more than him. His mind was a tangled mess of emotions and desperate desire to get a hold of them and think rationally, bundle of memories and hopes colliding with reality and rock-solid facts and Wanda felt a pang at her heart, a crushing sensation in her chest when she finally embraced everything his headspace had to offer, getting lost in it.

Lost in him.

James Buchannan Barnes had a beautiful soul. Torn and glued together with little kind gestures from his friends, sweet memories of his sister and everlasting friendship with Steve, his no-longer-little-but-equally-stubborn Steve, Steve’s soulmate, his teammates that accepted Bucky with surprising ease and less judgement anyone would deserve… and the careful way he was giving away the pieces of the very same heart that was barely together, in gentle smiles and good-natured teasing, silent self-declaration of giving his whole life for every single one member of his new-found family.

And Wanda understood. In a fraction of second she looked under the illusions she had helped to build in the Avengers’ minds and saw the truth.

*Pietro, spri!* she cried out straight into his mind, begging him to stop fighting. With another flick of her wrist, her enemies were free of her handiwork, shell-shocked from the experience, too lost to find their footing. “Brat, spri! Pietro… greshim. They are right.”

The battle froze as if the time did and for a second, Wanda felt like she was in her brother’s skin, moving so fast that the world around her stopped turning. The stunned silence was only broken by a soft gush of wind when Pietro appeared by her side.

The Avengers seemed so baffled at her admission they didn’t try to attack them.

She exchanged a look with her twin, hoping her face spoke volumes as tears gathered in her eyes. She was far from convinced that Anthony Stark was a good man; but she knew he was better than the creature they had sworn to assist. And her mother always used to say that a man should be judged by the company he kept. From what she had seen in Bucky Barnes’ head, Stark had one bunch of fine people around; and their imperfections seemed to be balanced by the good they all wished to do.

Pietro understood. Of course he would. More than he could read her expression, he must have felt the change in Wanda’s aura, the transformation touching their bond as well.

He graced her with a reluctant nod of agreement. Via their mental connection, he whispered he trusted her. Her lips curled up in a tender smile.

“Are we just gonna stand here? Are we fighting together or against each other or what?!”

No, Tony Stark was by no means a man she would call good. In fact, she already found out he was an ass. But now, he had become her ally.

From all the eyes on their duo, she chose to meet her soulmate’s.

“Together, Anthony. Because there’s bigger malice in this world than you are.”

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Wanda nearly cut you off right then. The rest of what she showed was a blur of images, fear, pain and determination, destruction and cooperation, all of that leading to this very moment. It all resembled waking up from a very intense confusing dream, being pulled away into consciousness by the first sunrays of the dawn.

You blinked heavily as the world swayed off its place, the counter seemingly in a peculiar angle from your point of view.

Why was the lamp not up, but on the side? Why was it spinning?

“Oops. Sorry. Never made the connection for such a long period of time-“ a voice reached you, breaking through the hush of blood and your own heartbeat in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get a fucking grip on both your body and thoughts.

Bucky had a soulmate?

No, not relevant, the images were too unclear for you to be sure everyone made it out alright, you needed to see Steve first, you had to-

By the time Steve’s figure appeared in your field of vision, you were certain you were steady on your feet and finally managed to control your mouth.

“Steve!” you cried out excitedly as you sprang his direction, relief mixing with delight, because he was alive, he was not bleeding visibly, he-

-was suddenly graced with an identical twin, two loving tired smiles blending into one and splitting into two the next moment, swimming in your vision and you felt something solid grabbing your body and positioning it right into his strong arms.

You gazed at him in haze, melting into his warm and firm embrace, spotting a swirl of red energy flow around you.

Oh. Wanda’s work, no doubt. Sweet.

“Are you okay, doll? Are you sick? What happened?”

Wanda’s guilt was nearly solid in your reach, but you only let your head lull onto Steve’s shoulder, plunging into the fluff of love that his presence provided.

“Nah. I’m fine… just drunk on you…” you mumbled.

The girl’s bubbly relieved laughter rang in the room, bringing a satisfied smile on your face.

Steve’s kiss landed on your forehead, corners of his own lips upright despite the concern in his voice.

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s just get you to bed…”

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Part 5

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Thank you for reading!

I chose Bulgarian, just to avoid traditional Russian this once. Bucky is a Winter Soldier after all and he should know how to speak 30 languages or so :D just thought this would work. Google translator used; apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you had an okay start to 2021 :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogres x you #soulmate au #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers imagine #captain america #captain america soulmate #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #mcu #marvel #winsod #anika ann

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silverhyenaart · 4 years ago

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This is an older piece from 2017 that I’d drawn as a cover for my story “Just Misunderstood”, my first serious Texas Chainsaw Massacre fanfic that I wrote.I might attempt a “Draw This Again” at some point, enough time has passed.

Anyways, I thought I’d share a snippet from Just Misunderstood, the thought that sparked an entire freaking book! It all began with this simple little thought.

Be warned, there’s the usual stuff to expect from TCM, including cannibalism, misogyny, heavy suggestion of non-con sexual content, foul language, and forced domestication/kidnapping/captivity. Among other things, so if this sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, you may want to skip.

***

Great, another Hewitt Family Picnic. What joy! Who were they having for dinner tonight?

Well, to be fair, the dinner itself wasn't as bad as it could have been. Blake just remained quiet, kept her gaze lowered, and avoided eating anything that even looked like meat. She only ate anything at all because it appeased Luda Mae, who showed concern for the fact that the girl hadn't had much breakfast and completely skipped lunch. Thomas was showing even more fondness and affection then usual, and it took every ounce of will not to shy away and reject his touch. For someone that could murder another girl that was just like her without a second thought, he sure enjoyed cuddling and nuzzling against Blake every chance he got. Hoyt, as per usual, kept up a rather predatory stare on the girl, much to Blake's discomfort.

Once dinner was over, Luda Mae had requested Blake's help in cleaning up. To the younger girl's shame, she immediately set about doing as asked. She tried telling herself that it was just so that she wouldn't end up on the dinner table, but.... Blake had never been good at lying, not even to herself.

'You saw what he did to that poor girl. You saw what THEY did to them. Do you really think you can.... save him?'

Blake cast a rather solemn glance at Thomas as she took his empty plate from his setting, then moved on to grab Hoyt's, doing her best not to shudder in disgust.

“Sure is a cute lil' thing,” Hoyt mentioned, craning his head around in an attempt to get a better look at Blake's eyes, “Still, ain't much of a rack on 'er.”

While Blake may have flashed him a momentary glare, Thomas let out a low grunt to make his displeasure known and tensed up.

“But she does got a cute little ass, I'll admit.” Hoyt continued, taking a swig of his beer.

Thomas' grunt was now a growl. Luda Mae turned away from the sink with a huff, knowing that Hoyt was just trying to get a rise out of Thomas, as he usually did just for fun.

“She ain't yers! Blake is Tommy's girl, you got that?”

Blake was just trying to keep her head down, mouth shut, and get her work done, but what Hoyt did next crossed a line. All the bottled up stress and anxiety from her captivity and what happened earlier that day was about to boil over.

Once again, Thomas nodded in agreement to his mother's words and glared at his uncle, to which Hoyt just snickered.

“Come on now, boy! You really ought to be old enough to learn how ta share yer toys, ain'tcha?”

And with that, the false sheriff gave Blake a firm swat on the rear as soon as she turned her back to him. He laughed as she let out a surprised yelp and jumped a little from the slap. But when Thomas stood up from his seat, Blake dropped the dishes she had been holding, letting them shatter on the old tile floor. Without even turning around, she instinctively jabbed her elbow behind her, cracking Hoyt right in the face and nearly sending him ass over tea kettle while he was still in his chair. Needless to say, his jeering laughs soon became a cry of both pain and surprise, having NOT expected that reaction.

“Oh good heavens!” Luda Mae cried out, momentarily covering up her mouth with her hands out of shock.

Blake herself had a look of abject terror and shock on her face as well once it registered in her head what she had just done. She.... she hadn't even planned that. It.... it just.... happened. No doubt he deserved far more then an elbow to the face, but if looks alone could kill, Blake would have dropped dead that very minute. Now she had done it!

“W-what the fuck?! Why you lil' fuckin' bitch!” Hoyt howled, holding his nose while moaning in agony, “I ought ta have ya strung up like that whore I got in the meat locker fer that!”

Before Blake even had a chance to do or say anything, Hoyt grabbed hold of her chain and jerked it towards him, earning a whimper from the shaken girl, only for Thomas to let out a roar that could have shook the heavens themselves. Furiously, the titan-sized man took the chain from his uncle's hands, yanking it back and putting himself in front of Blake in a territorial gesture. Angrily, he shook his head and possessively stroked the terrified girl with his free hand. When he did, Blake felt that familiar surge of pain force it's way through her mind, but this time, she thought she heard a faint, gravely voice, snarling,

'MY Blake! Not yours! Not let you hurt my Blake!'

“Look here, Tommy! You gonna let her get away with that?!” Hoyt shouted, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe off the blood pouring from his nose, “Lemmie teach the cunt her place 'round here!”

“Both of you boys! Knock this off right now!” Luda Mae interjected, before things got more violent.

With a huff, she pulled a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and handed it to Hoyt to staunch the bleeding. Nothing was actually broken, but he'd certainly have a firm reminder lingering on his eye and nose for a few days not to do that with Blake again.

***

If you’re interested in a TCM fic with a touch of the supernatural, consider checking out “Just Misunderstood.” For Mature Readers only!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382136/chapters/64261348

#thomas hewitt #leatherface #fanfic #tcm fanfic #writing #horror #horror movies #funny moment #hoyt gets what he deserves

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bellamyblake · 5 years ago

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For the prompt: “Are you cold? Then why are you shivering?”

A/N: Hey, guys! Something short I wrote the other day following a prompt I stumbled upon. There’s a part 2 I finished today that mirrors this one, only it’s about Bell being sick! Thanks for reading!

Things at camp were never calm.

There could be less busy days or extremely horrible days but there was never peaceful days, at least not for Bellamy and Clarke.

Despite their mutual disagreement they worked very well especially during the hard days and without having to say so they were always there for each other, taking off some of the weight or forcing the other to take a few minutes off before completely going insane.

So when Bellamy starts feeling a headache forming before it’s even noon, he’s pissed off because there’s no sight of his princess and things were piling up at camp-kids ran from every direction asking him about hunting, water, wood chopping, herbs gathering and who’s to stand on watch today and he felt like digging a hole in the ground and hiding in it;

Finally, when he snaps at Jasper who has decided that now is the time to ask about whether or not he and Monty can make more moonshine using the fire in the middle of camp and Bellamy gives him a hard “No!” and a speech that makes the kid’s eyes fill with tears, he decides it’s time to find Clarke;

He checks her tent, then the mess hall in case she miraculously decided to get lunch on her own without him having to shove her down there before finally heading to check the dropship.

After calling her name a couple of times, he hears some commotion in the stock room where they kept all the medical herbs and supplies and finds her curled up in the corner, knees up, head buried in them.

“Clarke?”

“Go away!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’ll be out in a second.” he takes a moment to estimate whether or not she’s telling the truth and when she sees he’s not moving, she lifts her head up and snaps at him.

“I said go away, Blake, I’ll be there to hold your hand in a minute.”

He’d almost let his anger get the better of him when he notices how tired her eyes are and how red her nose is.

He takes a step forward and realizes she’s shivering and bad.

“Are you cold?” she shakes her head at that “Then why are you shivering?” he prods curiously and when she opens her mouth to give him one of her flashy retorts, she sneezes not once but twice and groans frustrated, burying her head back in her knees.

He smiles-she was adorable like that-all messy and beautiful in all her sick glory, something tugged at his heart and he recognized it easily because it wasn’t the first time it happened, but for the sake of everyone and herself, he ignored it, came close and knelt, gently touching her shoulder.

“Princess....will you look up at me?”

“No.” she grunts back and he wants to laugh but holds it for her sake more than anything else.

Carefully, he reaches and cups her cheek, picking her head up and looking at her estimating how bad it is.

It was pretty bad.

Her skin was clammy and warm, bordering on hot, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy.

Her nose ran down, the liquid gathering above her lip even if she tried to suck her snort back in quite unsuccessfully, which made her even more miserable and frustrated.

She tried to pull away from his grip and take care of it herself but he stopped her with a firm grip of his hand on her chin after which he pulled his sleeve up and brushed it away.

For a moment they just stare at each other’s faces and she can feel his breath fanning her hot face, her nose, though pretty stuffed, could detect the smell of him-of chopped wood and fire and as much as she was scared before, for being the one to get sick now, she feels a little comfort knowing he’s there.

“Think you can stand up?”

“Of course I can stand up!” she huffs, pushing him away, breaking the moment.

She didn’t need Bellamy “asshole” Blake worrying over her.

She could walk this off, keep doing her job even if she had a minor cold. It was nothing and she couldn’t leave him to deal alone with everything in camp.

She stands up so abruptly, though that she sways on her feet and staggers to the left.

She thinks that’s it, she’ll hit the ground when his strong arm slides on her back and under her feet before she can say anything and he’s picked her up bridal style.

“You were saying?”

“Let me go!”

“No way, princess.”

“Bellamy, I mean it, I was just...it’s the blood pressure, when I stood too rapidly I lost my footing, you can let me go now.” he ignored her and kept walking straight ahead, exiting the storage room and heading to the line of cots on the left of the dropship, carefully placing her on the closest one.

“Bellamy-”

“First of all, princess, it’s called iron deficiency and not blood pressure. You should know that, you’re the doctor around here.” he mocks her when he places her down on the cot “Alleged doctor I guess.”

“Doctor in TRAINING!” she huffs in his face but is interrupted by a cough that shakes her entire being and though she was holding onto his shoulders and trying to keep herself upright, she absolutely fails now, falls on the pillow with a thud that springs another joke out of him but she’s too dizzy and delusional to know what he’s saying.

Her head falls to the side and she coughs her lungs out.

“Here-” he brings a glass of water to her lips and she takes a few sips after which she feels the gentle way of his hand on her neck, putting her carefully back on the pillow.

When she opens her eyes and forces them to focus on what’s before her, she almost regrets it, because she’s never seen Bellamy Blake that worried before unless of course Octavia was missing or hurt.

She covers her mouth when another cough interrupts her thought process and he curses quietly.

“What can I do?”

“Thought you knew more than me, jackass.”

“Come on, princess,now is not the time to be smart. Just tell me what to do.”

“Put more pillows behind my back so I don’t choke to death here.” she instructs and he quickly grabs the extra pillows from the other cots and puts them behind her, raising her up a little.

She’s still shivering too badly so he picks another blanket and throws it over her.

What she doesn’t expect is to feel his big hand on her forehead.

It’s actually so enormous, it’s covering her eyes too and she breathes in that familiar scent again, that calming one of woods and fire even if for just a brief moment.

“Dammit, princess, you’re...you’re burning.”

“I’m fine...just-” she coughs again and he winces at the sound of it cause it is bad.

When did she even get so sick? How did he not notice it earlier?

She did seem a little off last night...sleepy and leaning onto Raven’s shoulder a bit too much, trying to keep herself together.

He had given it out to her being tired and swore that tomorrow he’d take on more tasks than her and force her to have an early evening but...why hadn’t he seen her red cheeks or her stuffed nose?

Why hadn’t he done something about it.

“Just get me some seaweed tea and I’ll be fine.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“I’ll make the kids bring some water and get it boiled in a minute,princess.” he’s surprised when she opens her eyes and he sees fear there. It takes him a moment to realize what it stemmed for until he remembered the empty medbay they were in, the big cold stony walls of the drop ship and her...lying all alone there, in all her princessy sick adorable glory.

She was afraid of being alone.

And he knew that despite everything she...didn’t have anyone else to ask to be here for her.

Wells was gone and she got along well with the girls but none of them were truly close to her.

His sister was too preoccupied with Lincoln and Raven...things with her would always be hard because of Finn, no matter how much time had passed.

The rest of them-Monty, Jasper, Harper, Monroe...they looked up to her but that was it...she was like a mom to them, he had even heard the kids calling the two of them mom and dad and as much as it annoyed him it was in ways true-she took care of them-she patched up their injuries, listened to their problems, gave advice, taught them which plants to use for eating and which to gather for her so she can use as medicine.

They weren’t her friends...they were her younger siblings and all they’d do if they came here was worry and ask him a bunch of questions about “When will she be fine?” and “What are you doing about it?” that would surely make her recovery and his headache worse.

But he...he understood what this was like-they were leaders and though they carried it all on their shoulders and handled this camp in the most badass of ways, they could also...be vulnerable with one another.

She may be a little shy having him see her like this, she may have tried to hide it but both of them knew that him finding her in that storage room was the best scenario.

“Or I could just radio them and we’ll tell them you feel a bit under the weather.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I want to.” he promises, reaching to squeeze her hand and giving her a light smile. “And trust me...this is fun for me too. Seeing the princess brought down to her knees-”

She slaps his arm and he chuckles.

“Shut up, you ass.”

“At your services, doc.” he salutes her and picks up the radio, before heading for the corner where he gives Monty and Jasper specific instructions without freaking them too much.

When they come ten minutes later and try to barge in, he stops them at the dropship door and takes the steaming hot kettle from their hands before instructing them what needs to be done before dinner and making sure they don’t forget to bring Clarke some food as well.

By the time he comes back to her, she’s asleep, curled up on her side and still trembling really badly, her nose running and her cheeks flushed.

He finds some clean rags and a bucket of cold water and he uses it to ease her fever, placing a cold cloth over her forehead.

She exhales in her sleep and it’s one of the most adorable sounds he’s ever heard.

That is until she starts quietly snoring too.

Her nose is stuffed but her mouth is opened and at first she begins it ever so quietly but at some point it raises to a louder pitch and he has to cover his mouth so as not to laugh at how a small creature like her can produce such a loud noise.

Like a badass lioness, he thinks as he tucks a wet strand of hair from her cheek behind her burning ear.

At some point an hour or so later, he wakes her up and forces her to drink some tea.

Though she’s weak she still tries to boss him around, saying that they had to check on the wall and change Monroe’s wrist bandage and then something else he couldn’t make out but which makes his heart clench at the sight of her yet again-despite her condition, the kids and this camp were still her number one priority.

When the evening falls Monty brings up a bowl of soup and tries to convince Bellamy to let him see Clarke but he’s relentless.

“Monty, no and don’t even try to get in here, not you or the others. We don’t want you getting this thing and I have it handled.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t get sick.” he waves his hand “Now listen, send Miller here later so I can give him instructions for tomorrow” and once again reiterates how important it is that no one sets food inside the drop ship.

Monty gives him a weird look but nods once again before leaving.

Soon after, Miller comes by and Bellamy makes him write down what needs to be done, tasks that will keep them busy for at least the next few days but that weren’t too dangerous or hard.

It’d be enough to stir them away from trouble or drinking themselves to oblivion and give Clarke the time she needs to recover.

The next time she wakes, he tries to force her to eat some of the soup but she’s too weak, so the best he manages to do is give her more tea and lift her up enough to help her clear up some of the snots clogging her nose.

“I’m so gross...I can’t believe hot shot threesome Bellamy Blake of all people has to see me like this.”

He wets yet another rag and carefully wipes her face from the sweat and awfulness of the disease and she leans a little too much into his touch, exhaling in relief.

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“Huh?” she asks and it’s the most adorable cute huh in the world, he thinks, with her nose all stuffed and her eyes barely opened but pinned on him.

“I don’t sleep around.”

“Well congratulations to you.” he smiles “Is that why you’ve been so uptight lately? Haven’t had the chance to fuck it off?”

“Oh please, if someone needs to have sex it’s you, princess.”

“I’ll consider this an offer.” that makes him stiffen, mouth agape and she actually laughs at his face “That was rude, princess.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it, Blake. I know you see women as something to conquer.”

“That’s not true.” he shakes his head and she must detect the anger in his voice because her eyes open a little wider and she gives him a curious look.

“In fact, I hate that...my mother she...when we were on the Ark she had to sleep with guards to know when there’d be a surprised inspection. Sometimes she’d come back with bruises and I just-”

Clarke reaches to touch his wrist.

“I��m sorry, it was wrong of me to say that.”

“I don’t see women as something to conquer.” he says quietly “Only as something to admire because you’re badass.”

“Damn right we are.” she smiles and finally so does he.

“I can see why you made that assumption, though and I don’t blame you for it. If anything, it is my fault and my cross to bear.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself.” she scolds mildly when she turns to the side and he tucks her back in “We all make mistakes, it’s important that we learn from them.”

He nods and while he’s too busy thinking over her words, he misses how she fell asleep.

A smile plays on his face when she starts snoring again but it quickly disappears when at around midnight her fever spikes too much and she’s shaking so bad, he has no idea what to do.

The best he can come up with is change the cold rags on her forehead and force her to drink tea even if she’s barely conscious but it’s the worst when her snores quiet down and she starts coughing in her sleep.

He’s afraid she’ll choke on it, suffocate so he does the best thing he can think of-he carefully moves her into a sitting position and slides behind her, pushing her back to his chest and holding her tight, trying to provide both the much needed warmth she so desperately craved and ease her breathing.

It works, she actually manages to fall into a fitting sleep but she’s still hot as hell and he’s starting to get really scared that her fever’s not breaking.

A few hours later he rolls them over to the side and covers her up with three blankets and his jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

He smiles when her fingers reach and wrap around his collar, pushing it to her face and...smelling it in which makes him tilt his head in surprise before he remembers what he was about to do.

He tries to cool her down as best as he can and at some point he’s so desperate he takes her hand in his and closes his eyes as he kneels by the cot.

“Come on, princess, I know you can do this...I know you can kick this stupid fever in the butt, alright? I know it. You’re damn Clarke Griffin...you’re stubborn and strong and beautiful and...and you never give up, alright? You can’t give up...those kids out there, they need you...they love you so much. And I need you too. I know I rarely admit it but...I’d be a fucking mess without you there to kick my ass, okay? So please just...get it together and stop playing with my poor heart here.”

There’s a silence for a few minutes and then he feels her fingers squeeze his hand back.

“You’re...telling me...you actually...have one?” he looks up all wide eyed and finds her eyes barely opened lips parted in a small smile and he can’t remember ever feeling so worried as when he reaches to touch her forehead and feels her skin having cooled down even if a bit.

“Your fever’s breaking.”

“It had no choice...I couldn’t leave you to deal with those insane kids on your own.” he smiles and actually cups her cheek with his big hand which is hot and feels good against her still shivering body even if she was technically feverish.

She leans into his touch and smiles, allows herself this short moment of peace and quiet, a moment of vulnerability with the only person she knew she could show it to.

He doesn’t make a snarky remark, doesn’t say something stupid, but just stays there and lets her act like a kid.

She almost scolds herself for it, tries to pull away but he moves his hand to her neck and keeps her still, as if having read her thoughts.

“Hey, no...none of that.” he scolds mildly “I said you’re a badass but you’re allowed to feel...weak, you’re allowed to cry and be sick and feel vulnerable, okay? Just because you’re a leader doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings. Let’s not forget the fact that you are more or less a child like those idiots out there who call you mom just because you’re a few years older than them.”

“They need someone to look up to.” she says pinning her eyes to the cot.

“And you’re a great example but...what I mean is, you can let go a little, Clarke, you can...live your youth, alright?”

“And you can’t?” he furrows his eyebrows at that and she reaches to wrap her clammy hand around his wrist.

“You’re not seventy Bellamy...as much as your back says otherwise.” he huffs a small smile at that “I can’t imagine what it was like growing up with Octavia, having that responsibility but...I assume it forced you into adulthood way too early. You can ...relax a little too.”

“When I can go around camp and scold the kids for being stupid idiots...nah, this is more fun” he gives her a half smile but she sees through him and tightens her grip.

“You can let go for one night...the world won’t stop spinning if you have some fun.”

“Ahh, that drink you so much insist on us getting comes up yet again, Griffin?” he plays it cool again and she shakes her head, deciding she’ll pick this serious subject again another time,when she’s not too sick and barely keeping herself awake and he’s not insistent on holding the world, this camp and all the children in it on his shoulders.

“Well you did promise...all those months ago.”

“I’ll let you drink a barrel of that moonshine shit as long as you get better.” he must’ve realized what he said cause he stiffens at the words but he decides not to beat him up for it now, not when she’s about to doze off again, so she simply pulls at his hand and looks up with big bright blue eyes “I mean-” he tries to shrug it off but she just smiles.

“Come to bed, Bellamy.”

“But you’re...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You kept me warm and I am still cold and feverish so I need you to keep doing what you did before okay? No funny business!”

He chuckles and relents, carefully peeling off the blankets and sliding behind her, putting his hand on her stomach and pushing her to his chest.

There’s something so comforting about being in his embrace-his big arm holding her tight, making her fears about disappearing into the sweaty nightmarish darkness of this sickness go away and his warmth...he’s like a fire that’s just been started, the freshly chopped woods catching the flames with ease, spreading a softness in her body that she didn’t expect, warming her up to the core, all the way to her toes that were always freezing and even though he makes a joke about her snoring, when he drifts off, she hears him snore too and thinks of woods cracking in the fire and how they sound like the deepest and most honest of belly laughs and she wonders...if she had ever actually heard Bellamy Blake laugh.

But she thinks she’ll make it her mission to witness it at least once, with or without the involvement of a barrel full of moonshine.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #hurt/comfort #sickfic #my writing

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looselucy · 5 years ago

Photo

Sinking

July 16th “Do you want a brew? Kettles just boiled.” “Yeah, yeah. Thanks.” Lin accepted my offer, stood unnervingly beside the door leading into my flat. “You can sit, if ya want. Ease up.” I instructed as I began making his drink. “If anyone should feel awkward, it’s definitely me.”

Though we’d spent some more time together in the pub the evening before, we were all far too wrapped up in the fact that Harry had shown up to concentrate on anything else. Everyone had their own theories as to why he’d come back, why he’d come into the pub, why he’d ran out of there only seconds after arriving. They’d asked me what I’d managed to get out of him when I chased him out the doors, and I wasn’t even lying when I told them I’d gotten nothing whatsoever. Myself and Lincoln hadn’t had the chance to talk in the way I knew we needed to, so I’d invited him around to mine the following morning to talk things through, straighten things out. I needed to get something in my life back in order. “Tea or coffee?” “Um… Coffee, please. Thanks. You feeling any better this morning?” I couldn’t necessarily get a real grasp on how I was feeling. I was exhausted more than anything. The evening before barely felt real, I was amazed that it had actually happened, so much so that I hadn’t really been able to process it. I was keeping those thoughts at bay and dealing with the only thing I could, the only thing that was within my power to change. That was my situation with Lin. “I am, yeah. Last night was… a mess.” I sighed. “How about you?” “I’m alright. And I wanted to say sorry, about last night. I told myself I wouldn’t get like that-” “Please don’t apologise, Lin.” I carried his drink over, receiving a quiet thank you and then sitting down in the armchair across from him. “I know I handled it all… really terribly, so I owe you an apology, if anything. I’m sorry for blocking you out like I did, I just felt really guilty and I’d had a weird few weeks and… I dunno. I try really hard to just face stuff head-on but… it didn’t feel that easy with you.” Lin had never given me a reason to be angry, he’d never done anything that might put me off, so frankly, it didn’t feel like I had much of a reason to turn around and reject him when he’d been so wonderful to me, and that made it difficult! I was much better at being honest and explaining my feelings when there was something driving me, whether that was love, frustration, sadness, whatever it may be. Without a definite drive and knowing the outcome would be hurtful to someone I cared so deeply about, even though I knew it wasn’t right, my instinct had been to ignore it, block it out, put it to one side because that was the easier thing to do. “It was shit not hearing anything from you, y’know? It was really shit.” “I know it was. I know. It was a shit thing to do. I don’t have an argument, I’m not gunna back myself. It was shit, and I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath in, leaning back and letting out a large sigh before he created a very minor, contrived smile. “It’s alright, I guess. The main thing I care about right now is making sure our friendship is alright, which I can’t really do unless you talk to me. That’s why I was pissed off.” “I know, and I’m done with that bullshit. I won’t… hide away, I promise.” I comforted. “And we’ll be alright, y’know? Like… it’s me and you. I think even if we tried to stop being friends it wouldn’t work.” “I hope so.” He smiled, but it still wasn’t entirely convincing. “How do you… feel about it all?” “A bit disappointed, to be honest.” He answered after taking a sip. “I wish I’d just… left it.” As much as I couldn’t blame him for the way he was looking back at the situation, I didn’t want him to feel that way at all. It may have all seemed rather futile at that point, but I didn’t want him to regret taking the risk and asking me. I understood that it was different for him, because it was so easy for me to feel that way, but he was the one who had put himself out there and made himself vulnerable. “I don’t want you to feel like that.” I mumbled down to my lap. “I’m glad you asked. I loved our date, it was… It was nice, wasn’t it? I had such a lovely time with you.” “Then what changed?” “I don’t think anything changed. I… My feelings didn’t really change from what I said to you whilst we were still there.” “But you stopped communicating them. Why?” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to clarify what had changed, why I had withdrawn the way I had. It was everything to do with my discovery of the Blood Sun in my shop, the way Harry had come back into my life. That was something I didn’t feel I could express to him, because it wouldn’t be a simple explanation. “I… I don’t know. It… I…” “Is it because of Harry?” I shot my head up to look at him, which was likely enough of an answer. I didn’t really need to say anything after that, because the look on my face answered everything. “Shit. I’m right, aren’t I?” “How did… I… I don’t really know what to say.” “You and Harry?” He gasped. “Uh… Sorta. Yeah. How did you know?” “Fuck. Well, a few things flagged back in the day, when he was here, but nothing major. I think the main thing for me was last night though! You both freaked out seeing each other! As soon as you ran out after him, we all had questions.” “For fuck sake. I can guarantee they’re questions I don’t wanna answer.” “Does Louis know about it?” “Yeah.” “I fucking knew it.” He clapped his hands together, sat up. “He’s a good liar, but I knew it!” “He’s not known long. I didn’t tell anyone at the time. I don’t really like telling anyone now.” “Why?” “Because it makes me miserable.” I groaned. “There’s nothing to say anymore.” He nodded, not asking me for more information after that. Lin didn’t feel the need to try and pry answers from me; I’d told him I didn’t like talking about it, and that was enough for him to ignore his nose and leave it be. “Basically,” I moved on quickly. “I just don’t want you to come out of this thing with us… feeling like you didn’t get closure, because I know how shit that can be. That’s very familiar to me.” He tightened his vision a little then, listened to my words and understood what I was saying to him. He knew I’d never really gotten my closure with Harry, and that had affected every single step I’d taken since he’d left. That realisation gave him some answers he hadn’t been aware he was looking for. “Let’s just… put the effort in to make sure this doesn’t get awkward. That’s all I want.” He was calm, understanding. “I want our closure to be us walking away from this with a friendship that’s stronger than its ever been. I… I do still like you, Alf, so I think this is gunna be tough for me. But if I ever get distant, snap me out of it, yeah?” “I will.” I grinned. “We’ll figure it out. As long as I don’t lose you.” “You’re not getting rid of me.” His smile was genuine, nice to see. It was pleasant and reassuring to get the sense that we were both going to make the effort needed to sustain our friendship, or make it stronger as he wished. “Can I have a hug?” His question was so endearingly awkward that I practically leapt to my feet to grant his request. He was on his feet a second later, the two of us meeting in the middle to wrap our arms around one another, slowly swaying from side to side as we did. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one last time, even though I kept telling him he had nothing to be sorry for. “I’m sorry too.” The second I squeezed him tighter, there was a knock on my door. It's enormously unnerving when your gut is right. When you just know something, like a sixth sense. I could recall the morning my dad had gotten in touch with me to share the news that my mum had passed away and I knew. As soon as I saw he was calling, I knew. The night before I’d barely been able to sleep, something keeping me up, this sensation of dread that I hadn’t been able to place until the very moment I saw he was calling me, and once I had, it was my very first thought. There was no doubt in my mind that we’d lost her. Sometimes you just know things, beyond all explanation. And I knew it was Harry at my door and I knew that this time around, he wouldn’t be running away. I knew it before I’d comprehended that someone had knocked at all. I detached myself from Lincoln and slowly made my approach, my heart in my fucking throat as I did, near coming out of my mouth when I opened the door and saw him. Our eyes were on each other as soon as I had, completely locked in, as though we were making up for the evening before when we’d barely been able to look one another in the eye. And I saw the colour of his eyes once more, that timeless emerald that had conquered so many dreams of mine ever since he entered my life. I stopped breathing. I had to gaze right up to him, convincing myself he was taller than I remembered. He was sort of drawn in on himself, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and shoulders hunched forward, chest tight, clearly rather anxious. And then he saw Lin. I watched his jaw wind, the veins in his neck protruding as he lifted his head and swelled his chest with a host of hot air, tensing his shoulders and taking a step back, like he wanted to walk away again. But he stopped himself quickly. He took a deep breath in through his nose and then leaned closer to me again. “Can I talk to you?” He requested quietly, voice deep, entrancing, his hair dishevelled and overgrown, falling over his eyes until he ran his fingers through it, pushing his locks back. “Please?” “Uh… I-” “Y’know what,” Lin picked up on the mood and began edging towards the door. “I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll catch up with you in a bit, yeah?” “Okay.” I was shaky, short of breath. He edged past the two of us, smiling rather uncomfortably when he was close, Harry refusing to look him in the eye. “Nice to see you, Harry.” “Yep.” He grumbled back to him. We remained quiet as Lin lumbered his way down the stairs and out the front door, my stomach twisting, very gradually coming to terms with the fact that I was going to be in Harry’s company in a completely private setting. It had been a long time. “Um… Come in.” I offered. “Thanks.” He stepped in. It was as though he was being cautious, like the ground may give way beneath his feet, crack and crumble and claim him as its own. I could practically see his memories of us running through his mind as he looked around my home, pictured us in the places we had been there, the moments we had shared, and all I could hope was that he had handled them with care, cherished them. I hoped they made him happy, that they didn’t hurt him. I closed the door, biting at my lip. He looked back to me, and spoke quickly, careful not to lose his nerve. “I wanted to apologise for last night.” He began. “For… leaving like that. I’ve been trying not to do stuff like that and not to turn away from situations and I… I dunno, I was just a bit overwhelmed. But I’m sorry. M’trying to be better.” “Oh. Okay.” I didn’t know what to say. Being around him made me want to cry. I couldn’t explain it, but just seeing him and being in such close contact with him put a literal weight on my chest and my stomach. Fuck, it was like every inch of my body was weighted and collapsing in on itself. I hated that he could pull that from me, that he still had such an effect on me. It was such an unfamiliar sensation, not knowing how to talk to him, how to act around him. It wasn’t how I knew us to be; even in our most difficult times, we hadn’t quite been that way, and what made it worse was the fact I could feel he was experiencing those same sensations. Though he had turned up to see me and he was trying, he was incredibly tense, his posture rejecting any presence, taciturn, tough. But I could see how desperate he was to try. “H-how are you?” He juddered as I wandered over to the kitchen, wanting to generate a substantial space between us, leaning against the counter and looking at him. “How’ve you been?” “Um… I’ve been okay.” The broken, beaten and quiet words escaped from between my trembling lips. “Yeah?” He wanted more from me. I understood that. “Yeah. I mean…. I dunno. It’s been a weird year, there’s been some changes, but yeah. I’m okay. I’m good. Up and down, but generally pretty good.” “Good.” He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, just knowing that. “M’glad to hear it. How’s your dad?” “He’s really good.” I managed a smile. “Did he move back here?” “For a while, yeah. But he’s moving again in a couple of weeks.” “Why?” “He found it too hard. Being here. Everything reminded him of my mum. He said being in Rosebury was too difficult. So he’s gunna leave.” “Yeah.” Harry dropped his head, looked at his feet. “I… I understand that. I know I’d be the same way.” He kept his head down for a while after saying that, clearly uncomfortable looking me in the eye, his breathing so unforgiving that I could see the rise of fall of his chest from across the room. Due to the note he had left me on his painting, I thought that if I was ever lucky enough to see him again, he would be a new man, strong and happy and settled. I didn’t expect to see him like that, weak and timid, more so than I’d known him to be before. The only times I’d ever seen him so drawn in on himself was during moments in which he was talking about his pain, his family, the things that had brought him sorrow – his greatest losses. That was the Harry I was seeing then. “Have you been okay?” It felt good to know I would finally have an answer to a question I had been asking for months on end. “Yeah. I’ve uh… I’ve actually been really good.” He lifted his head, smiled a little. “Good. I… I kinda feel better in myself, for knowing that.” I confessed. “I know, I’m the same! I… I think about you a lot.” He swallowed, easing his dry throat. “I-I’ve wanted to come back for a long time. To see you. I just… I don’t know.” I was glad to learn that I hadn’t been alone in feeling as though we were lacking the closure we needed. He had thought of me. He wanted to come back to Rosebury, to clear the air, to ask questions. He was finally doing it, and strangely enough, it left me not quite knowing what to say. “I’ve been seeing a therapist for the past year.” He announced urgently. “What? You… You’ve been having therapy?” “Mm.” He nodded. “It’s been really good for me. I was having sessions with a guy out in New York, and he’s been… really helpful.” “Harry… what the fuck! That’s amazing!” The concept was astounding to me, the thought of Harry speaking with someone that way, being open with someone, especially a therapist. It had taken months of closeness for him to feel comfortable with me, and even then, he’d struggled and ached. I was so happy that he’d finally gotten to the point where he felt he could talk to someone about his life, and from the way he was speaking, it had helped. It had been a positive experience. As much as I had loved being his confidant, all I could offer was a pair of ears, comforting words. I couldn’t offer any real help, which I realised after some time was exactly what he needed. I wouldn’t have been able to make any real difference. I was the emotional support when really, he needed more mental support. I was thankful he had gotten that. “I think that’s why I’m here.” He moved away from the wall beside the door, taking a couple of steps towards me. “I can… see things differently now, and I needed to talk to you. I… I wanted to apologise to you, Alf.” “Wh-what?” “I really fucked up, with us. The way I was. I don’t think I handled any of it well. I guess I was more like my dad than I’d ever realised, and I’ve always struggled to talk and…. I think I sort of used you as this emotional punching bag, in a way. That was fucked up, m’sorry.” “That’s okay.” I whispered. “I don’t… I don’t see it like that. I wanted you to talk and feel like… I was there for you. Because I was there for you. You needed that. I… I wanted to be that for you. Does that make sense?” He nodded reservedly, a tender smile gracing his lips. It seemed that he knew that was also true, and that it is good to talk with people you’re close to, people you trust, but he hadn’t done all of it in the best way. That wasn’t surprising to me, and it wasn’t something I was angry about; I was the first person he had been completely candid with, it would have been a miracle if he’d done all of that perfectly, especially with the depth and darkness of the times he’d endured in his life. “And… my therapist helped me to realise that I sort of started to see myself as this… really negative part of your life. It’s one of the reasons I left.” “Why? What do you mean?” “I blamed myself… for what Jack did to you.” He told me, blunt and honest. “My therapist thinks that’s something I do. He thinks that when I was little, I kinda saw it as my job to try and save my dad. And… well, I couldn’t and I blamed myself. And then all the bad shit that happened after we lost him, I felt like all that was my fault too. I adopt blame, even when I shouldn’t.” My mouth was ever so slightly agape as he spoke to me, told me what he had found out about himself, and he seemed so incredibly confident. He wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, he wasn’t guilt ridden or introverted; he was telling me what he’d learnt like he was staggeringly glad to have this understanding of himself that he’d never had before. He’d never been emotionally available enough to know these things. I was too stunned to respond. “And I know that Jack was there that night trying to find me. The night he attacked you, he was in Rosebury looking for me, so it is my fault, in a way. That you came across each other. And it killed me, knowing that. It really… It fucking killed me.” “It wasn’t your fault.” “I’m trying to see it that way. I think I find it really hard because with Jack… he knows how to manipulate things. He’s known exactly how to get into my head ever since we were kids. It’s one of the reasons I never wanted to talk or open up, because he’d use it against me. Every time. When he found out I was with you…” “What did he do?” I had tears in my eyes, voice frail. “He told me you were gunna leave me. That you’d… break me.” He seemed bruised from the memory alone, taking a few seconds to calm himself down. “And he knew it’d get to me, because I always lost the people who meant the most to me.” I flinched when he said that, like he’d taken his fucking fist to my gut. “In times of struggle… I always lose someone. And nothing scared me more than losing you, Alfie. Nothing. And he knew it and he used it to-” He choked over his own words, looking back down to the ground and attempting to gather himself. I thought I was going to be sick. “And I think I pulled away before you could. I tried to own a situation that felt like it was fucking spiralling. I could feel myself losing you… Pushing you away. I got scared and I left and I tried to numb it.” He spoke from his chest, looked into the top corner of the room rather than at me, jawline sharpening. “I acted like it was nothing, like we were nothing. I thought that’d make it easier. I thought that’d make it feel like I wasn’t losing you… like some fucked up way of trying to gain control of it. If I lied, if I convinced myself, convinced you… I told myself that I wouldn’t feel that same loss, but I did. And I’m sorry for putting you through that and acting like I didn’t care, because I did. I just didn’t know how to handle it.” I had tears streaming down my face. I hadn’t been expecting it. How could I have ever predicted he would ever say those things to me, to wholly alter the narrative to which I believed we had ended. He was being incredibly upfront. He didn’t need to be, it clearly wasn’t an easy task for him, but he was doing it. I didn’t know whether that was for my own sake or for his. Maybe it was both. “I needed to tell you how sorry I am. For everything.” He told me as I wiped the tears from my eyes and noticed he had tears in his. “It was so messed up and I know… I know how much I hurt you, and I’m so fucking sorry, Alf. You didn’t deserve that.” We were a rarity, Harry and I, the relationship we had shared. As fucked up as it was, as beautiful and breath-taking, our burnout had never turned us to ash. We had never disintegrated. Our separation only charred us, searing our edges and leaving us so singed that over a year with no contact could go by and yet the two of us could still stand there in tears because of what we’d been through. We had been so involved and so invested and so passionate about one another that something that should have been forgotten was in fact a skin that we had not been able to shed. Some old flames will always burn. I rushed to wipe my tears away, like I wanted him to think I was stronger than that, that his actions were so distant they didn’t still break my heart, even with him giving me all this new information as to why he’d acted the way he did. “You really hurt me, Harry.” I somehow made my voice sound strong despite how weak my body felt. “I know. And I regret it every fucking day, Alf. If I could go back and change it, I would.” “But you can’t.” The damage was done. I had spent the last year wondering what it was, why he’d led me on that way, allowed me and encouraged me to fall in love with him only to tell me he couldn’t love me, that he’d only fucking been there as some way of humouring me. I couldn’t get back the months I had wasted aching over that, even with this new knowledge, the understanding of why he’d acted out the way he had. It wasn’t enough. He wiped tears away with the back of his wrist with quite some force, chest juddering, nostrils flaring, fist tightening, eyes on the ground. “No.” He seethed sadly. “No, I can’t.” Though it was comforting to know that it had all affected him, to know I hadn’t been entirely delusional throughout our time together, it didn’t make everything okay. I wished it did; I wished the closure I had been craving had conquered my core, but I still didn’t necessarily feel that way. There was still more for us to say. “I think I kinda wanted you to hate me.” He sniffled. “Like… if I acted like a prick, you’d be glad I was gone anyway. I thought it would make it easier for you.” “It didn’t.” I snarled. “I know. M’sorry. I was… I was such a fucking mess after Jack broke into mine, I… I dunno!” He gasped. “I wasn’t in the right position to give you what you needed. What you deserve. I wish there was a way that it all could’ve unfolded without you getting hurt in the process, but my head was so fucked and… I just wanted to explain all of this to you. I know it doesn’t change anything, but you deserve to know, Alfie. I had to tell you all this… for both of us.” I nodded, bit my lip and folded my arms, watching him wipe away his tears and try to stop more from falling. He was right. We had both needed that. “Your therapist helped you realise all this?” “Mm.” “Is that why you sent me that painting? Some… way of apologising?” My body language was guarded, a fragile shield I was using to protect myself from him. “This is my way of apologising.” He told me. “By… fucking stepping up and seeing you and actually apologising.” “Okay. So… So why did you send me the painting?” “Because…” He took a few moments, considered his answer. “Because I feel like you’re its rightful owner. You… are the reason I’m here. The reason I can… take responsibility for my actions. Understand my actions. I was in a really bad place for a really long time and then I met you and… You made everything better. You made me better. You made my whole fucking life better, and I feel like you got me to this point.” “Your therapist did that.” “For fuck sake, I wouldn’t have even been to therapy if it wasn’t for you, Alfie!” He raised his voice to argue his point, took another step closer. “I fucking paid a therapist to help me sort the bullshit in my head out, but you did it because you fucking cared about me. I’d never had that before! You made me feel like it was okay to talk, okay to… feel how I was feeling. You did… more for me than any fucking therapist could. You are the reason I felt like I could let go of all that bad stuff and move on. That’s why the painting is yours, Alfie. That’s why I sent it to you.” He had rendered me speechless. I was shaking, the two of us staring at each other in silence. He wasn’t going to stand there and allow me to dismiss the meaning behind him gifting that painting to me. He had to make his point clear, show me just how important my role had been in his healing. He was practically repulsed by the idea of me not knowing exactly what I’d meant to him. I backed down, softened. “Sorry.” I whispered, and he just shook his head, sighed. “I… I do appreciate it. It’s… It’s so beautiful. I-I cried when I saw it.” “You did?” “It’s stunning, Harry. Really, it’s… special. Not that I know much about that kinda thing, but… it moved me. It’s incredible.” He smiled shyly. “I’m not really sure what I should do with it though. I don’t think it’d even fit in here.” “Do whatever you want with it.” He shrugged. “Sell it. Burn it. Whatever you wanna do with it. It’s yours.” “M’not gunna do that.” I chuckled breathily. “Could turn the wine shop into a gallery. It could be my prize piece.” An inkling of a standard, easy conversation, and we both calmed considerably. Fuck, I’d missed him. I’d missed him so, so much. “Well… like I said,” He smiled. “Whatever you wanna do.” “I’ll look after it, I promise.” “Thanks.” I denied the temptation I felt to finally get closer to him. I was certainly more comfortable then than I had been before, but distance still felt good. As did talking to him. “So… are you still in New York?” I asked. “No. I’ve been in London for a while but… m’gunna be here for a bit.” “In Rosebury?” “Yeah. In my house. M’gunna ring my mum soon. I’m tackling some big stuff today.” He grinned to cover his discomfort. “Um… I’m gunna tell her about the house and talk through some stuff. Try and get her to move here. M’gunna do what I promised myself I would.” “That… That’s amazing. I’m really happy for you.” He got nervous then, fidgeting, cracking his neck before he spoke. I was utterly shocked by his suggestion. “So I’m gunna be around, for the next few days. Or maybe weeks, depending on how it all turns out. Do you… Do you wanna spend some time together?” I could once again feel tears building, burning at my chest and nose and eyes and head, begging me to cry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I whispered unnervingly. “But-” “No. C’mon, Harry.” I sniggered somewhat. “We’re not really the type that can be just friends, are we?” It wasn’t the time to be naive. I would have loved to be around him, soak him in for as long as I could, but it would have only hurt me in the end. I couldn’t be around him in a platonic way, it would never work, not after everything. The emotions we had both tied to our affiliation and its demise were far too strong for that to ever work in our favour. He cleared his throat and nodded, taking a step back. “I should go.” He suddenly said, squeezing his temples between his thumb and fingers before lifting that same hand and running his fingers through his hair once again. “Um… Just one last thing. I wanted to thank you, for getting my mums number and giving it to me. You didn’t have to do that… but you did. That means a lot to me.” “You’re welcome.” “And I fired Liam. My agent.” “You did?” I wheezed. “As soon as I got back last night. I rang him and he admitted it and… that’s done. Gunna have someone else handle my stuff going forward.” “Good. Fuck that guy.” “Yeah.” He chortled. “But thank you for telling me. I’ve been trying to straighten things out, and you’ve done some of the work for me. So… thanks. For always looking out for me. I don’t deserve it.” “I think you do.” I murmured. He looked woozy for a few seconds, gripping his eyes shut and then straightening his body out. “Okay… M’gunna… Yeah, m’gunna leave.” “Okay.” “Thank you for everything.” “Thank you for… coming here. I’ve been… desperate for some closure.” I admitted. “I sort of feel like I’ve got that now.” Something happened then that I couldn’t describe, this feeling, an enticing lure that reminded me that there were ties between my body and his; ropes that were torn and withered but still strong enough to anchor and drag me underwater with no power to fight against them. I ran to him. I literally ran to close the gap between us and I threw myself against his body, because he had been waiting for me. His arms opened wide the very second I began to diminish the gap between us to throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck as his went around my waist, holding me that forcefully I was elevated off the ground. And we just held one another for a while. His face nestled softly into my neck as my fingers found his hair, gripping ever so gently. Physical contact with him was much more prodigious and devastating than I’d bargained for, but I didn’t want to let go. I just wanted to hold him and feel him and be eclipsed by his arms; his arms that felt like a bandage, a way of keeping us from falling apart, stitching us together so we didn’t crumble right there and collapse completely. My feet met the ground again, but we didn’t let go of each other. I remained on my tiptoes so that I could reach him comfortably, seconds passing by like minutes. It had been so long since I had last touched him, been touched by him. I could have locked myself in that moment for hours and not tired of it. That was exactly why I knew I needed to pull away from him. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, trying to quietly encourage him to let go, but he seemed reluctant. Even when he started to loosen his grip, he didn’t fully succeed, laying his hands on my waist and pressing his forehead against the side of my head, his lips just an inch from my ear. My stomach twisted into a knot that was impossibly tight. He breathed me in, inhaling through his nose, the tips of his fingers pressing firmer against me. “I love you, Fee-Fee.” His words caused my body to freeze. And for once it wasn’t due to his beautiful low tone, his striking softness, or him using the nickname he had for me. It was the other part. I gripped my eyes shut, furrowed my brows. “Wh-what?” I baffled, taking a step back which forced him to let go. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” When he didn’t answer, I opened my eyes. I think I was expecting to see him look shocked, like it had poured out of him without thought or purpose. But he looked like his only reason for coming to see me was to say those exact words. “I love you, Alfie. I’m in love with you.” He said again. For so long, I had wanted to hear him say that. I hadn’t even been able to imagine what it might sound like, what it might feel like. But I finally had my answer. What I felt was anger. “Are you fucking kidding, Harry?” “Fee-” He tried to approach me again. “You think you can just… turn up here after over a year and tell me you love me?” I stepped back. “You don’t love me.” “I do. I always have.” “You don’t! You don’t love me. You can’t… You can’t just do this.” “But I-” “All you’re doing is fucking with my head again! What do you expect from me? How fucking dare you?” I could barely believe the rage I felt with him for doing that to me, for putting me through more confusion than he already had. Not one other person in my life had meddled with my emotions in the way he had, and the very moment I felt like I might be okay to move on from him and find even a minor moment of peace, he ruined it. “I need you to leave.” I headed towards the door. “What? No, Alf, I don’t wanna leave.” “That’s not your decision! I’m so fucking angry. The only reason you’re saying this is because you think I’m with someone else.” “Wait, I think?” His eyes were wide, chasing me, astonished. “What do you mean, I think? Are you not with Lin?” “Get out.” I opened the door. “NO! Fuck that, I’m not gunna leave, I’m gunna fight for you!” He took the door edge from my hand and slammed it back shut. “I don’t care if you’re with him or not, I want you! I know we’re supposed to be together. I know I’m not ever gunna feel like this about anyone else. I’m not giving up on us again!” “Please go.” I started to sob, conflicted and confused. “It’s just me and you, Fee.” His hand reached for my cheek, clutching as he edged his face closer to mine. “Just me and you, please.” “There is no me and you, Harry! You left!” I knocked his touch away. “You broke my heart and you moved away and you let me believe for all this time that you didn’t care!” “But-” “All you’d do is hurt me again, I know it!” “I won’t. Please believe me. I wanna make you feel safe. I’m gunna do everything I can to make you feel safe. You just have to let me try!” I pressed my back against the wall beside the door and the balls of my palms into the sockets of my eyes, my insides shattering. I never imagined myself to react that way. I’d thought that if such declarations ever came from him that I’d all but fall at his knees, kiss him and hold him and tell him I loved him too. But I didn’t feel the desire to be that way with him. I didn’t feel that love. It was just unadulterated fury and complete disappointment. “Please, I… I’m so in love with you.” He kept coming close to me, hoping to deteriorate my defences. “It’s too late, Harry. You’re too late.” “Fuck, please don’t say that.” He blubbered, breaking, pressing his forehead against mine and placing his hands against my jaw. “Please, Fee-Fee. Please don’t tell me I did too much damage, this is killing me. I can’t lose you.” “You lost me when you left.” I was blunt, dropping my hands from me eyes so I could look at him, harsh enough that he stepped away from me, detaching himself and looking to the door, still crying. “This doesn’t change what you did, whether you’ve got an explanation or not. I’m sorry you felt that way, Harry, I am… but it doesn’t reverse it. You think I’m gunna wait over a year without hearing anything from you, for you to just send me a painting and say all this and then what? You think I could just… trust you again? Pick things up like nothing happened? I can’t do that!” There was no guarantee he wouldn’t go through that same turmoil again. If Jack came back into his life. If things didn’t work out with his mother. I didn’t want to be the person who felt the brunt of the troubles he experienced in his life. I didn’t want to be burdened with the brutal repercussions that accompanied whatever way he handled times of strain. It was too late. He didn’t seem to have the strength to speak or look at me. “I really think you should leave.” I whispered, and he just about nodded, but didn’t move. “I’m sorry, but… I can’t. I want you to leave.” I wondered what he’d been expecting me to say. He couldn’t have possibly come to me predicting he would receive the perfect response. Whatever he’d been expecting, he was clearly crushed by what he’d received. Shaking, I went to the door again, grabbing the handle and opening it for him. “Please.” I pleaded one last time. “Okay. I’m going, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel. And that’s how I feel. Now you know, that’s all I can do. I’m sorry.” In a way, I wished he hadn’t told me at all. This was beyond him explaining himself and apologising for his old actions, this was introducing brand new complications and cutting fresh wounds to partner with the ones that had only just begun to heal. Somehow, it felt cruel of him to put that on me. But it would have been just as cruel of him to keep it to himself, for him to torment himself. He should have been able to tell me if that was how he felt, but I truly hadn’t wanted to hear it. The situation was barbaric and merciless. Harry released another ghastly sob as he took his first step, his skin red and likely burning as he finally did as I’d asked and left, rushing down the stairs and slamming the front door shut behind himself. I was numb, lifeless, staring forward with my stomach sinking and sinking and sinking like a sun disappearing over the horizon, and that was how I saw my relationship with Harry in those moments; a setting sun in blood red skies, plunging gradually into the rolling hills that surrounded the village where we had once fallen in love. In its slow death, the sun births shadows. And I knew it would only be so long until I was plummeted into darkness.

#enjoy 7000 words of HBS goodness #Happy Bloody Sunday #HBS46

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kelyon · 5 years ago

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Nephila 2: Unexpected

The long-awaited (and totally unplanned) next chapter of Nephila, aka The One Where Rumple is a Giant Spider

In this chapter, Belle talks to Ruby and figures out what she needs to do

Read on AO3

In a perfect world, Belle French would have never known that you can buy pregnancy tests at the dollar store.

Wandering through the aisles of the Dahllah Hahbah, Belle imagined what that perfect world would be like. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t be alone for this trip--unless she had a plan to surprise the co-parent of her child, but even then she would probably have brought Ruby along with her. In a perfect world, she and her significant other would have gotten the most precise pregnancy test available. It probably would have been expensive, the sort of thing you need a prescription to get. In a perfect world, this would have been an expected baby, a wanted baby. In a perfect world, Belle would have already been trying to conceive, with the help of a committed partner. She would have been charting her cycle and taking her basal temperature and regularly injecting her uterus with human sperm.

In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have to specify human.

Without really thinking about what she was doing, Belle piled junk into the green plastic shopping cart. Halloween candy was half off, and the tiny packs of beef jerky were only a dollar. She had been especially hungry for meat lately. In the clearance section, orange and black spider decorations stared at her. Their googly eyes were equal parts friendly and ominous.

She backed away from the Halloween stuff, back into the comparative comfort of a Christmas display. She grabbed a box of candy canes and made her way to the check out lane.

The middle-aged cashier in a green polo shirt wore the dead-eyed glaze of someone who isn’t getting paid enough to express emotions on the clock. She didn’t talk to Belle as she scanned her purchases over the blinking red light. If she noticed the pregnancy test amidst all the junk food and paper products, she didn’t mention it.

And that was fine by Belle. She didn’t want people to mention it. She didn’t want it to be real. That was part of why she had gone to the next town over to make this surreptitious purchase. She didn’t want to run the risk of anyone recognizing her. Even if no one saw the test, even if they were supportive and encouraging, Belle didn’t want to think about what was happening at all. If not thinking about something could keep it from being real, then Belle would have no troubles in the world.

There was a used book store in this town, with a wider variety of subjects than the university store’s collection of last semester’s textbooks. Belle parked her car on the street and walked in. Maybe the smell of books would help her calm down.

It was the best kind of used book store, with towering shelves and hidden nooks and endless rooms leading into each other. There was even a cat wandering around, pestering patrons to pet her. Belle breathed deeply, content even in the sections that had no appeal to her. She brushed past cookbooks and theology, lingered briefly over a shelf of “Personal Relationship/Self-Help,” and eventually found herself in the most daunting section of all.

There were several copies of The Book. The book she didn’t want to admit she was looking for. After all The Book was the sort of thing the average woman only needed for nine months out of her life. Belle would probably donate her copy once all this was over with. However it would be over. However it could be over. There was so much that she didn’t know. It would be good, at least, to have a baseline of information, to know what was normal for a human woman carrying a human child.

She held The Book in one arm, making a conscious effort not to cradle it. As at the Dahllah Hahbah, she tried to camouflage The Book by surrounding it with decoys. She picked up a romance paperback, a history of lobster fishing, and a handbook for learning American Sign Language. After a moment of hesitation, Belle also pulled out a hardcover copy of Arachnology Through the Ages. When the stack of books was heavier than she could hold, Belle decided she was safe to check out.

Unlike the Dahllah Hahbah, this bookstore was staffed solely by the woman who owned the place--a retiree with her long hair in a loose bun and reading glasses on a chain around her neck. Midmorning on a Wednesday, she was obviously thrilled to chat up each and every customer who walked through the door.

“Looks like you got a good haul!” the woman said brightly.

Belle made herself smile and put the books on the counter. “It’s mostly gifts for people.”

“Early Christmas, that’s a smart move!” The owner began to ring up the books. “Oh, Texas Destiny is such a good read! Wait til you get to the part with the wild horses. Do you like horses?”

Her smile was still fixed in place. “A… little.” Belle didn’t give a shit about horses, but this was not the time to talk about it. Maybe if the shopkeeper was distracted by Texas Destiny, she wouldn’t notice--

“Oh!” The woman’s voice rose to a pitch that could only mean the worst thing in the world for Belle: She had seen The Book.

Belle could only be grateful that there was no one else in the store when the woman held up the copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

The shopkeeper looked Belle up and down, her smile even wider than before. “So can I say congratulations?”

Belle bit her lip and looked down. “Maybe? I--I don’t really know yet.”

“Oh sweetie!” the woman said. “If you’re buying this book, then you know. And even if it’s not this time, it’ll be soon, I can tell. You look very fertile.”

Mortified, cheeks blazing red, Belle couldn’t say anything.

The woman just kept talking. “This is the gold standard for moms-to-be. And they say it’s easy to read, doesn’t make anything too science-y.”

At that, Belle found her voice. “I’m actually working on my PhD at the University of Maine. I’ve already completed my masters in Zoology. Science-y stuff doesn’t bother me.”

The shopkeeper took that in stride. “And your... husband? Boyfriend? Partner? What do they do?”

Lives in a cave and spins gold webs, Belle thought but couldn’t say. Instead she pulled out her wallet. “It’s kind of complicated. Where do I swipe my card?”

“Oh, we’re cash only, sweetie.”

“Sure,” Belle barely kept the annoyance out of her voice as she put away her debit card and pulled out the twenty she saved for emergencies. “Of course you are.”

****

When she got back to her crappy apartment, Belle thoroughly read and re-read the instructions on the pregnancy test. She wanted to believe that this was a complicated, mysterious process. Maybe she had been wrong the whole time. Maybe she had misread the signs and miscalculated the dates since her last period. Maybe she would go to the bathroom and find her underwear stained with blood, wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t that be so much better than the alternative?

Overthinking was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the longer Belle dithered and avoided the inevitable, the more worked-up she found herself getting. She would have less anxiety as soon as she had some idea of what was happening.

On the other hand, every second she didn’t know if she was pregnant was another second when she could pretend she definitely wasn’t pregnant. It could be true. She could be just imagining things. But she wouldn’t know until she peed on the goddamned stick.

Before she began, she set the kettle on for a cup of tea. By the time the water boiled, it was done. Belle held her mug of Earl Grey close to her chest and looked down at the little blue plus sign.

It had happened.

She was pregnant.

From a motherfucking spider!

****

“I’m coming over and I’m bringing margarita mix!”

Ruby’s voice was loud, even considering the amplification of being on speakerphone. She had to shout to be heard over the noise of the road and the static of her phone and the pounding of Belle’s blood in her ears.

Belle had managed to keep her composure for five entire minutes before the reality of her situation had come crashing down over her head and left her a sobbing mess. In her distress, she’d called her best friend, and Ruby had answered with her usual love language: girl time and booze.

“But I can’t drink!” Belle wailed. “I’m fucking pregnant and tequila will fucking kill my baby!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drink your tequila, and you can just have the lime juice. Vitamin C is good for zygotes, right?”

“I don’t know.” Trying to pull herself together, Belle wiped her eyes with the heel of her hands. There were all kinds of vitamins she needed to be taking now--or at least, there would be if she was having a human baby. What would a spider baby need? What kind of thing had taken up residence in her body? “I don’t know anything!”

“Okay, okay,” Ruby tried to soothe her. “Don’t panic. Everything will be worse if you panic. I am so close to your apartment, Belle. Just hang on until I get there. How about you look at the table of contents for your new book?”

Normally, there was nothing that calmed Belle down more than reading the table of contents to a book. There was something so comforting about knowing the progression of a text, to have all the steps and developments laid out in a simple outline, to get little teases as to the meat of the book. It was like reading the menu before sitting down to a feast, anticipating all the good things to come.

But if Belle looked at the table of contents to What to Expect When You’re Expecting, she would be peeking into the progression of the next nine months of her life, and that was not a timetable she could think about right now.

“I’ll be okay,” she told Ruby through wobbling lips. “Are you bringing food, too?”

“What, you think I’m an amature? I’m gonna hang up now so you don’t hear me freak out about parallel parking, but I’ll be up soon, hun. Okay?”

“Okay.” Belle nodded, even though Ruby couldn’t see it. She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

Ruby’s breezy confidence was exactly what Belle needed right now. It made her feel normal, even in the middle of the most un-normal thing she’d ever heard of. Ruby had been an RA while they were undergrads, a faithful post-breakup bar companion, and the recipient of teary late-night calls from friends going back to her high school days. She knew everything about how to deal with someone who was scared and alone and crying her eyes out. Belle wasn’t the first person to call Ruby up in tears, and she wouldn’t be the last.

It helped to think that her problems were not unique. Every day, women all around the world discovered that they had an unplanned pregnancy. For every one of them, it was the end of one world and the beginning of another. And Belle was just the same. The unorthodox manner of conception didn’t change the fact that Belle was merely one of thousands or millions of women who had been put in this exact same situation since the dawn of time. And, like so many of her countless sisters, Belle found solace in reaching out to other women, to find help and comfort and solidarity.

Laden with grocery bags, Ruby burst through the unlocked door like an inverse Santa Claus. Instead of a fat old man bearing gifts for the nice, Ruby was a skinny young woman offering solace to someone who had been decidedly naughty. Belle was more happy to see her friend than she had been on any Christmas morning of her life.

“Hey,” she tried, with a watery smile.

“Baby!” Ruby dropped the bags on the ground and pulled Belle in for a hug. “Or--no. That was a bad choice of words, wasn’t it? How do you feel? Am I allowed to say the B-word?”

Belle laughed and cried at the same time. “It’s fine,” she shook her head. “Don’t worry about saying the word ‘baby.’ That’s what it is, kinda.”

Ruby let Belle go and started unpacking her bags. “I know,” she said. “But ‘baby’ is an emotionally charged word. We can say ‘embryo,’ if that makes things easier on you. We’re almost doctors, Belle. We can be scientific about this.”

Scientifically, the word we should use is ‘larva,’ Belle thought but didn’t say. Ruby was her best friend and the most supportive person in the world right now. But even she would balk if she knew what Belle had really been up to on her trip to Australia.

Together, they cleared the clutter and books off the coffee table. Then Ruby made Belle sit on the couch and watch while she spread out her feast.

“Okay, so the tequila is just for me, but I did bring Sprite--it’s caffeine free and it’ll work with the margarita mix. Additionally, chips and gauc, cheese puffs, cheesecake bites, chocolate chip cookies--”

“Did you sort your shopping list alphabetically?”

“And--” Ruby went on, “a whole goddamned rotisserie chicken. I figured we could just rip into it with our hands like old-timey kings, like we’re going to throw the bones on the floor for the dogs.”

Belle let out an incredulous giggle. “That’s ridiculous! And perfect. Thank you so much, Ruby.”

“Oh! I also got this fancy salt for our margaritas. It’s made with black ants! Can you believe that?”

“Ants?” Belle whispered as her hand drifted over her stomach. Suddenly nauseous, she leapt off the couch and ran to the bathroom.

When she finished throwing up, Belle stayed on the ground next to the toilet. Ruby had lingered in the doorway but didn’t come in until Belle was done. She offered her a glass of water and Belle took it gratefully. Ruby sat on the edge of the bathtub, her face full of concern.

“Has the morning sickness been bad?”

“I don’t know if this is bad, I’ve never had it before!” Belle took a sip of water and closed her eyes. “Isn’t it supposed to be bad? Isn’t pregnancy supposed to be divine punishment for promiscuity?”

“If it’s punishment for anything, it’s for poor planning. I thought you were on the pill?”

Belle shook her head. “I kept it up for a few months after Will and Ana got back together for the fifth time, but when it looked like they were sticking I didn’t bother to refill my prescription. I don’t have sex with men often enough to justify taking a pill every day.”

“Except for when you do.”

“Yeah,” Belle took another drink. “Except for when I do.”

Ruby took a breath and rubbed her hands over her knees. “Listen, you know I’m here for you no matter what, right?”

Belle was still shaky, but she rested in that certainty. “Right.”

“And I’m not going to pressure you or make you do anything. You don’t even have to make any decisions today, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But I gotta ask: Belle, what do you want to do? Have you thought about your options? Do you want to keep it? Do you want to… not keep it?”

Leaning her head back against the cool tile of her bathroom wall, Belle opened her eyes slowly. It had been such an ordeal to even confirm that she was pregnant, the thought of what came next had been too much to consider until now.

She took a deep breath, eight counts in, eight counts out.

“I think ‘abortion’ is an even more emotionally charged word than ‘baby.’”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ruby said. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can drive you to Planned Parenthood, I’ll be with you every step of the way. If that’s what you want.”

“I know,” Belle said softly. Ruby’s support was unconditional. She would paint a nursery or hold Belle through a difficult procedure, both with equal willingness and sincerity.

But Belle had an instinctive terror at the thought of going to a doctor’s office in her condition. What would a real urine test reveal about the nature of her child? What kind of image would show up on an ultrasound? Even if she wanted to get rid of this thing, would a regular abortion procedure work? Or would they have to go into her uterus with insecticide?

“I don’t want to go to a doctor,” she said softly.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “But you have to go to an OB! Or even just talk to Victor. I mean, if you’re going to stay pregnant, you have to stay healthy and safe.”

“I know,” Belle closed her eyes again. What could she say? How could she explain any of this? “But… I… I don’t know what will happen.”

“What, like with insurance or something?”

Belle’s eyes shot open. That worked. “Yeah,” she lied. “I don’t want to deal with crazy medical bills.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully. “Does Australia have universal health care?”

Now it was Belle’s turn to nod, slowly, saying words only slightly after the thoughts came into her head. “We… do. I should go back home… because of the healthcare.”

“Yeah, no, you definitely should. Besides, your parents are there!”

At the mention of her parents, Belle’s tenuous hope crumpled. “Oh God!” she let out a wrenching cry. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

“Nooo,” Ruby crooned. She slid off the bathtub edge and joined Belle on the floor, pulling her into her arms and slowly rocking her back and forth. “I know it’s scary, but parents can be okay with things. My mom didn’t want to tell Granny about me until I was almost born, but it all turned out fine!” She gave Belle a chaste kiss on the temple. “Even if your mom and dad freak out at first, they’ll come around soon. Babies are cute. They’re easy to like.”

Belle shook her head and let the tears fall silently. “Not this baby.”

“Don’t say that.” Ruby held Belle by the shoulders, twisting their bodies so they could look into each other’s eyes. “If you’re gonna keep this baby, Belle, you’ve got to own it. It will be a lovable baby because it will be your baby. You’ve got to fight for it! If you’re this thing’s mom, you have to be its biggest fan. Does that make sense?”

Still teary, Belle nodded. “It’s my baby, right or wrong.”

“Unless you want to go to Planned Parenthood. That is entirely up to you. But once you make that choice--” Ruby balled her hand into a fist and shook it in a display of fierce determination “--then it’s yours.”

“Mine,” Belle whispered. Her hand drifted down to her stomach. It was still flat and lifeless. There was nothing about her body that spoke of the life that grew inside her. Nothing that could tell her what manner of creature her child would become. But Ruby was right, it was hers. And not just hers. “I should tell the father too.”

“Yeah, you never mentioned what happened! Who was this guy? What was he like? How was the sex?”

“The sex was amazing,” Belle admitted with the candor of the overly distraught. “But it was just sort of a one-night stand. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“Do you want to see him again? Do you think he’ll want to be involved?”

“He’ll have to be involved,” Belle said with a dawning sense of relief.

Of course the creature in the cave would be a part of their offspring’s life. If she was going to give birth to a spider, then it would have to be raised by a spider! And that thing… that thing was intelligent. It could care for its young. Maybe it could even take care of Belle.

She just had to see him again.

Belle felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. As she stood up, she nearly floated off the bathroom floor. She offered her hand down to Ruby and helped her get up.

“Tomorrow morning, I have to call Dean Mills to see if someone can teach my classes for the rest of the semester.”

Ruby cocked her head at Belle. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m going back to Queensland.”

#Nephila #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #sorry there's no smut in this one #not a lot of spiders either #next time baby

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shuttymcshutfuck · 4 years ago

Text

Trust is a funny thing, you know?

Fictober day 4: “That didn’t stop you before”

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Rating: General

Type: Hurt/comfort

Word count: 1,383

Relationships: MarTim (pre- established relationship)

Characters: Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood

TW: lashing out, paranoia (sort of), physical injury (could be seen as self harm but not meant in that way), A&E mention

Ao3 link / Fictober Masterpost

“What were you really doing?” Tim could feel the anger slowly build in his stomach. He thought Jon had stopped snooping and looking through his things. If he’d been lying this entire time, Tim thinks that he might actually kill him. If he could that is.

or Tim catches Jon at his desk and gets angry, thankfully Martin is there to help.

“Jon, what are you doing?” Of course Jon was lurking at Tim’s desk again. Tim’s day was already shitty enough this might as well happen. He’d manage to sleep through his alarm, have the bus drive away before he could get on, spill his coffee all over one of the files he wasn’t working on and he forgot his headphones at home. All of this meant he was one small nudge away from punching someone or something.

“Oh, uh- I was just seeing if you had the research I asked for because I’m about to record the statement for it but I can come back later for it.”

“I was looking for the research like I said.” Tim really wanted to believe him but he just couldn’t not after everything he’d done.

“Try again.” He stood in front of the door frame so Jon couldn’t just leave. He needs answers, he needs to know if he’s watching him again. Tim watched Jon roll his eyes and it made his blood boil.

“If you think I was looking through your things again, I wasn’t. I told you I wouldn’t do that anymore and I know it was wrong.” Tim wishes Jon understood how horrible it felt to know one of your friends didn’t trust you enough to stalk you. They were close, he’d been partially eaten by worms with him for god’s sake! To think that Jon actually thought he’d murdered Gertrude, it just stung.

“That didn’t stop you before. You knew it was wrong but you still did it anyway. So, I’m going to ask you one more time. What were you doing?” It was taking all of Tim’s strength to stop himself from yelling or crying or shaking Jon silly.

“Looking for the file.” He could see fear slowly creep onto Jon’s face and he felt so torn. He was furious but was Jon really scared of him?

“I don’t believe you!” Tim slammed his fist hard against the door frame. It hurt but at least the pain was something to concentrate on, something to feel other than anger. Martin would most likely freak out later over it but Tim didn’t care at this point.

“Tim, I-”

“Empty your pockets.”

“W-what?” Jon’s eyes went wide and the half laugh he let out made the fire inside of Tim’s chest burn a little harder.

“Empty. Your. Pockets.”

“Why?”

“You don’t trust me, I don’t trust you.”

“Fine, only if this will convince you I’m not lying.” Tim watched Jon empty the contents of his pockets onto his desk. A handful of loose change, a pen, a lighter, his phone and his wallet. No secret agenda, nothing suspicious. “Happy?” He didn’t know what he expected to find but there was nothing he could use as evidence so he just gave up and moved towards his desk.

“Just because you said you were sorry doesn’t mean I have to trust you again. You have to earn that sort of thing and right now that doesn’t look likely. Now get out.” Tim watched Jon walk away and heard him slam the door to his office. Martin came through only moments later.

“What the hell was that?” He sounded out of breath which probably meant he had ran from wherever in the archives he was.

“Just Jon being a dick as usual.” Tim let his head fall back as the fire slowly went out and all he was left with was exhaustion and pain spreading in his hand. He shut his eyes to try and relax but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen.

“It doesn’t seem like him to slam doors though- Oh my what happened to your hand?! Please tell me you didn’t punch him.” Tim felt Martin slowly move it but spikes of pain shot through his hand and he had to stifle a cry.

“I wish I had, his face probably would’ve been better than the door frame.” When he opened his eyes he saw Martin, sweet caring Martin. And he looked so worried.

“You punched the door frame?!” Tim could tell Martin was roughly 0.2 seconds away from going full caretaker mode but when he opened his mouth to try and calm him down he was shushed. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I’m going to take a look at it and if I’m not 100% sure it’s not broken then I am taking you to A&E.”

“Martin, you don’t- OW ow ow.” As soon as Martin moved his hand the slightest bit Tim felt an excruciating pain and through slightly teary eyes he saw Martin give him The Look. Tim had only been on the receiving end of The Look a few times but he knew that as soon as Martin used it, whoever he used it on was about to be taken care of. This could mean things such as; being forced to take a nap in the cot, taken home or driven to A&E.

“I’ll grab your coat.” Martin rushed off before Tim could protest. It wasn’t long until Martin was back and draping Tim’s coat over his shoulders before rushing him into his car. Four hours later and they were back at the institute with Tim’s hand in a splint. Well, Tim didn’t go in because Martin locked him in the car saying “I’m going to grab your bag then I’m taking you home!”.

“You didn’t have to do this, Martin. It was my own fault, I could’ve taken the bus to A&E after my shift was finished.” Tim slumped onto his couch dropping his bag. He was exhausted after today but Martin insisted on coming in to make sure he was fine.

“Don’t lie, I know you wouldn’t have gone to the hospital if I hadn’t dragged you. You would’ve taken a few paracetamol and ignored it. You’re almost as bad as Jon sometimes.” Martin placed his and Tim’s bags on the floor before heading to turn on the kettle.

“Don’t, don’t compare me to him.”

“Okay...does this have anything to do with what happened earlier?” Tim groaned.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You said but if something’s that wrong that it made you punch a door frame then I feel like it would be better to address it.” Tim watched as Martin made two cups of tea while barely taking his eyes off him. He’s pretty sure Martin could make a cup of tea in his sleep.

“It’s just him. I caught him at my desk again.”Tim could feel a little spark of the fire that was in his chest start to build up so he concentrated on Martin. Martin and his cups of tea, Martin and his knitted cardigan, Martin and his tenderness.

“Wait, really?” He took the mug that Martin passed to him before sitting down beside him and took a sip. Martin really did know how to make the best tea.

“Yeah, he said he was just looking for research he asked me for but I just can’t trust him Martin.” Tim felt Martin freeze.

“Oh, it wasn’t for the Hutcheson Statement was it?” He could tell Martin was nervous but he wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah, why?”

“I reminded him that he needed to record it today.”

“Fuck.” Tim felt Martin put his hand on his knee and it helped put out the fire inside him.

“It’s okay, you’re still justified for getting mad. Maybe punching wood wasn’t the best idea but still.” Tim just sighed. “Look, how about we just relax for tonight then you can talk to him about it tomorrow?” All it took was one look into Martin’s eyes and he softened.

“Fine, but I’m not apologising because he hasn’t gotten my trust back yet.”

“I never asked you too, just talk to him.” Tim leaned his head on Martin’s shoulder while Martin turned on the tv. They sat like that for hours, until Martin fell asleep with his hand still holding Tims.

#fictober20 #tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #martim #martin blackwood #tim stoker #timothy stoker #jonathan sims

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paperficwriter · 6 years ago

Note

Garou x reader, Misc 15

(cut is for length, not for content, continued from this fic!)

Look at Me

“This isn’t really coming out. That’s not a huge issue for you, is it?”

You have your fingers in thick suds as you rub Garou’s skull as gently as you can while still trying to wash the red out of his hair. Yes, this is how you are describing it, “the red”; because when you asked if he had gotten a bad dye job, he said no, and everything up to this point has made it pretty clear you don’t want any additional details about Garou’s affairs.

He wiggles a little in the chair you have placed in front of the sink so he could drop his head back into the basin. It’s easy for him - you can’t get over how tall he is - and he seems comfortable enough. In fact, he’s got a stupid smile on his face. “Yeah, s’fine, just keep doing that.”

“…did you already know it wasn’t going to wash out?”

“No, actually I had no idea.” When you massage at the back of his neck, you could swear he purrs. “Don’t stop.”

You can’t help but smile and shake your head, and then you give him a little push with your elbow. “If I knew you didn’t have any money, I would have gotten you something to eat, you know.”

This time, instead of you running into him, he literally ran into you on the street, so hard that for a second you thought a car had mounted the sidewalk. Your nose started bleeding, and over the blurriness of your eyes you could see him continue running at first. Well, someone like him, because the red hair and the one terrible red eye he turned to you were new features entirely.

“There’s a reason they call it a ‘five finger discount.’ Ow.” He opens that horrible eyelid and you cringe. “No pulling. We’re not there yet.”

“What does that–” You shake your head, refusing to blush, because you’re pretty sure you know damn well what he meant, but anyway. “Garou, seriously. They’re probably going to end up making your server pay for it and claim that they should have been watching closer.”

He looks up at you with an expression that’s hard to interpret, like all it would take is a little nudge to joke it off, but…he stays straight-faced. For you, maybe? “I’ll pay them back as soon as I can.”

“I’m giving you some money.”

“I’m not going to take it.”

“I’ll put it in your pocket.”

“I didn’t even tell you how much it was.”

“I’ll assume it wasn’t cheap. You smelled like cooked meat and table polish, so clearly you came from a steak house.” He snorts at that, and you smile, using the extendable hose to wash the shampoo out of his hair. “Now you smell like sugary roses or something. How is it that stuff that’s supposed to smell like flowers doesn’t actually smell like any flower you’ve ever seen?”

He sniffs at it and shrugs. “Kinda like it. Or I don’t hate it, anyway.” There’s an unmistakably happy sound that comes out of his throat as you wrap his hair with a towel and start wringing it out. Even if it’s still red, at least it will be clean…

And then you jump a little, because he’s putting his arm around your waist as you dry him off, clinging to you a bit. Why does it not quite feel like a tease? “Ha…ew, your face is wet,” you joke as he leaves a face-shaped spot on your t-shirt. At least it kills the tension, because that makes him insist on literally using your shirt as a rag for his face. You drape the towel on the sink as you tease his hair, strands so fine that they just literally stand up on their own, soft now that it’s clean. You give it a few extra pets, and you try not to smile too hard as Garou holds onto you.

“Okay. Let me get some eye drops. I know I have something in my medicine cabinet.”

“Nooooo…” Garou moans like a cat that’s been told it’s going to the vet. He won’t let go of your waist. “Don’t put that shit in my eeeeeeye…”

“Dude, it could be infected. At least let me look at it.”

You try to point his head up and he deadpans an “ow.”

“I didn’t touch it! And I’m not going to.”

“Promise.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a baby. Yes, I promise.”

He complies, pointy chin shoved into your stomach, both eyes open wide. It’s dark red inside, darker than blood, and the center of it is a bright white. It’s not like you’ve seen anything worse than pink eye but…even the worst shouldn’t be like that, right? You try not to look the way you feel: thoroughly fucking freaked out. It’s in that moment you realize you’re holding Garou’s face in your hands, and you summon the most meaningful expression you can. “Garou, I’m really, really worried about you.”

“Don’t be worried.” There’s a squeeze, and he hides the eye away, squeezing you and placing his face in your belly. “Give me attention.”

“I’m giving you attention,” you say, and you stroke at the back of his head, scratching softly between his shoulders. “Come on. At least let me make you some tea, and you can rest in the living room a bit.”

He does let you go, then, and you hear a soft thud as he obviously mounts the back of the couch and lands in the cushions. After the hot water kettle has been plugged in, you join him, and that’s when you notice he’s shaking. Not too intense, but a periodic shivering.

“Here,” you say, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders that was on the back of the chair beside you. You’re facing him, and even when you lean back into the arm of the couch, all you can think is how he looks so young. A lot younger than when you saw him before. “Are you okay?”

“I’m getting over something.” You must look guilty, because he says, “Really, it’s okay. Once I get some sleep, I’ll be just fine.”

“I really, really regret leaving you in that alley. I should have made you come home with me.”

You yelp when, holding the blanket around his shoulders, he curls up in the space between your legs that have been stretched out in front of you, cheek on your thigh. He’s already warmer, a bit more color to his pale cheeks. “You were shy. That’s okay. I’m quite a catch. I can understand feeling intimidated.”

Laughing, you tuck pieces of soft red hair behind his ears. There’s the slightest point to the tips, you see now, and you love that. “Well, I’m glad you have it all figured out, then. At least one of us knows what’s up.” He’s quiet. Is he asleep already? “Garou…”

He doesn’t respond. His breathing has leveled out, the tension around his eyes having gone soft. How is he such a combination of various traits and quirks? What is he doing? How do you keep crossing paths?

“The water is boiling,” you whisper, touching his face with your fingertips. He curls in closer like a cat attracted to warmth, making no move to stop you. In the kitchen, you can hear the water trying to escape the heat. “Garou?”

“We can boil more water,” he says without opening his eyes. “Don’t go.”

Ouch. Why does it hurt when your heart squeezes the moment he says that? “And fire hazards aren’t a problem for you?”

“I’ll protect you.”

This time you actually put your hand over your chest.

You’re just starting to do mental maths to figure out how long until the water completely evaporates and if then you can stand up to unplug it without disturbing the wild man in your lap when there’s barely a tap behind you, too light to be a knock or anything truly significant. To Garou, though…he leaps to his feet, dancing around the room, glancing out the small windows that overlook the street. Every time you go to have a glance out, he growls and steps in front of you. You still don’t see anything.

“I have to go,” he says, finally.

Wait…what? “You just got here. You–” The words stop short. You don’t even know what to say, how you planned on finishing this statement. He didn’t have to come here. This wasn’t planned. He is under no obligation to stay. Except…because you want him to? All you can manage is:

“Please.”

He shakes his head. This isn’t some stupid romantic movie; he doesn’t even hesitate. “It’s not safe. So I’m going.”

There’s no arguing with a voice like that.

So you don’t.

But you’re also not going to let him have the last word. “You can come back,” you say, when he heads for the door. It’s a little surprising, actually, that he goes to the door, like it’s something so normal. He seems like the type who would climb out the window, if given a chance. “You can always come back. I’ll boil more water. And…I’ll make you something. So you don’t have to steal it. So…come back. Okay? Please?”

That does make him pause, but instead of reaching out for you he leans down to pick up the blanket from the floor where it fell. He wraps it around your shoulders, over your head like a hood, and he holds the end tight. Something lightly taps your head, and you’re not sure if it was his hand or his head or his… “Okay. I’ll come back.” He gives you a squeeze around the shoulders, then yanks the blanket down more, covering your whole face. “For more attention.”

“Obviously.” You move the blanket out of your eyes, about to say more, but…he’s gone. You didn’t even hear the door close, but then you look around, and it’s like he was never here. Well, that’s not true. There are a few signs: the warmth on the blanket around your shoulders, the bubbling water that you go to unplug, and the smell of too-sweet flowers in your sink.

You sit back down on the couch, pulling what remains of him closer, waiting and wondering when you’ll see him again.

#my paperfics #one punch man #garou #garou x reader #sentence starter meme #Anonymous

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the-weeping-author · 5 years ago

Text

Could’ve been.

A/N: I hope you guys liked my past fic, I had this idea for my first fic but I didn’t use it so I made it into a whole different fic I had help with this idea so thank you if you helped me with it. ~Destiny ❤️

A/A/N: @linkispink1995 helped me with the name calling in paragraph 7 I wanna say thank you so much for helping!! I really appreciated it❤️❤️

Warnings: Angst, cussing, bullying

Summary: Steve Harrington has always been your crush, but what happens if one day you overhear him making fun of your little brother?

Parings: Steve Harrington x Henderson/Reader

Word count: 1658

(Please don’t Copy my fics and say they are yours.)

Tag list~ @ahoy-stevieboy @thehair-ington @galactic-kitten-nonsense @linkispink1995 @hoaxsteve @themultifandomwhoresblog

Please enjoy 😌

It was Tuesday and school was great up until lunch, carol, tommy h. and Steve walked over to my table. I mentally rolled my eyes and prayed they would just keep walking but I was definitely wrong, They stopped right in front of me. “Well, well, well what do we have here?.” Tommy h. said and I rolled my eyes “it’s the cow of Hawkins high.” Carol said laughing I went to say something back but she interrupted me. “I don’t know what’s worse Steve, her freak brother or her lonely mother.” I bit the inside of my cheek I hear Steve let out some sort of snicker I bite the inside of my cheek then I soon tasted copper which I knew was blood.

I looked up from my tray and saw all both of them smirking, Steve had a forced smirk but he was still smirking and I felt my temper rising like a hot tea kettle. “You know I might be the cow of hawkins high and my family might be lame but at least I’m not the local slut.” I spat viscously all three of their smirks dropped and tommy was actually speechless for once. Carol look at me and smirked. “Time to wash the cows food down.” At first I was confused then she picked up my coke and poured it on me. I gasped and the everyone who noticed started laughing and I just rushed out of the cafeteria I wasn’t crying because she got to me or she hurt my feeling I was crying because Steve let her say those mean things about my family and pour that coke on me.

It was a good thing I had my clothes for gym with me or I’d be soaked in coke all day, I planned on washing my hair tonight anyways so the coke wasn’t that big of a deal my mom told me to pick and choose my battles and this was one of them I was going to avoid because as soon as I hit carol I knew tommy and Steve would pull me away. I went to the bathroom and changed clothes and wiped off where I knew it would be sticky at and I put my spandex work out pants on, then a tank top over my bra after that I grabbed my denim jacket out of my locker and threw it over the tank top. I walked to my next class as the bell rang. I them three exit the cafeteria and they all made eye contact with me and I just walked past them confidently.

The thing about them calling me a cow wasn’t because I was fat, it was because I wasn’t a stick, I had curves No one couldn’t see half the time because I always wore loose clothing. My usual work out clothes consist of loose shorts and a t-shirt but they were dirty so I had to wear my spandex leggings so I did, as I walked through the halls I could feel eyes glued on me so I just kept looking straight ahead and walking. At the end of the day I had put everything in my locker and kept my dirty clothes in in my hand, I walked out to my car Steve was near my car and I immediately felt my blood boil. “Emily can we please talk?” I look at him and let out a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me Steve hell no we can’t talk.” He sighed and looked up at me. “Why?” My eyes widen and I knew my face was a little red.

“Are you fucking kiddding me look at my hair, look at the clothes I had on then you tell me why.” He went to say something but just as quick as his mouth opened it closed again. “It’s not that fact that you smirked Steve it really isn’t I liked you, I thought you changed.” He finally looked at my face. “I have changed Emily.” I let out a scoff. “Oh yeah you have changed back to the king Steve who was a dick to make up for the one you don’t have.” When I said that I saw hurt spread across his face and I almost apologized then I saw carol and tommy out the corner of my eye in his car and me wanting to apologize went out along with my love for Steve. Dustin walked up to us and put his bike in the trunk.

“Hey Steve hows it going man?” Dustin said smiling walking over to us after he put his bike up. When Steve didn’t say anything his smile went into a serious face. “Emily a-am I interrupting something.” I shook my head and looked at my little brother. “No Dustin you aren’t let’s go.” He noticed my clothes as soon as he walked over but he didn’t want to say anything. “I’m not saying you look great Emily but why are you wearing that?” I smiled at him and cocked my head to the side. “Yeah Steve why am I wearing these clothes.” He didn’t say anything and just looked at Dustin. “I’ll see you later buddy.” With that Steve turned and walked away. On the car ride home Dustin kept pushing about Steve and I, he knew I liked Steve but he didn’t tell me Steve liked me back Dustin was never one to talk about boys with me.

*One week later*

I told Dustin what happened and he told me he was going to kick Steve’s ass next time he saw him cause he upset his big sister. I immediately told Dustin that was necessary. The next week we didn’t have school sure to winter break and I had just dropped Dustin off at the arcade I was driving to bennys when I saw Steve, carol and tommy there I sighed and pulled into the parking lot when I got out they didn’t notice me and I over heard them talking about the party. “Oh my god they are such dorks, no wonder why they are single, I mean come on just look at Dustin he’s more a girl than his sister is.” I heard tommy h. say and I bite my cheek again and I hear carol laughing. “No wonder why he will never be a man poor boy ain’t got no father.” I heard all three of them laugh and what I heard next took the cake. “No wonder why everyone treats him like a baby I mean he basically is one because he has no teeth and you can barley understand what he says.” I heard Steve’s words fill my ears and I went inside and bought three milkshakes.

After they were done I went back outside and all three of them saw me and I saw carol smirk. “Awe look miss piggy decided-.” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence because I threw the chocolate shake in her face, Then I threw the vanilla one in Tommy’s face. Last but not least I threw the strawberry one in Steve’s face, tears streaming down my face as he looked at me. “What the fuck Emily.” I look at him and I smack him right across the face some of the milk from the milk shake flew as I slapped him, he held his face and looked at me. I looked at all three of them. “Say what you want about me all you want, you say shit about my brother or mother and I’ll personally kick your asses.” With that I walked to my car got in and drove away.

*Three weeks later*

Dustin had been hanging out with Steve and I tried to get him to stop, that didn’t work because then he just started doing it behind my back So I just gave up. I walked past my living room and saw Steve and Dustin hanging out and I stopped and backed up slowly not believing my eyes. “Dustin what the fuck is he doing here?” Steve and Dustins head snapped towards me Steve’s eyes widening, and Dustin stood up and walked towards me. “Emily Steve told me about what happened and he apologized for being a dick, I forgave him and I moved on and you should do the same.” I looked at him and I narrowed my eyes “I don’t give a damn if he’s sorry he made fun of you now he needs to leave before I shove my foot up his ass.”

Steve stood up and walked over “maybe I should go.” I nodded my head and I looked at him. “Yes, yes you should go.” Dustin shook his head and looked at Steve. “No steve don’t leave I’m sorry my sister is being a bitch.” Steve looked at Dustin and frowned. “Hey don’t talk about Emily like that she has every right to feel the way she does.” Dustin looked at Steve not believing his ears and he frowned even more. “Emily stop being a ass and just forgive him.” I looked at Dustin and rolled my eyes. “Dustin I will NEVER forgive him you understand me, now he needs to leave before I call mom.” Before Dustin can say anything Steve gave Dustin a side hug and made his way to the door. “For what it’s worth Emily I’m sorry.” I didn’t say anything, he opened the door then shut it behind him. Dustin looked at me and I tired to pat his back but he dodged my contact. “No emily you just ruined my friendship. I’m never going to talk to you again.” He stomped up the stairs and I sighed and mumbled under my breath. “great not only did I loose the guy I was in love with but I just lost my brother too.” Who knows what could’ve been if I would have just forgave him.

A/N: thanks for reading sorry if it doesn’t make sense I kinda got lost with this I had planned on it going one way and it didn’t so I just went with the flow. If you have any ideas just put it in my ask box please. Thanks ~ destiny❤️

#steve x henderson/reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x oc

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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forever is composed of nows (trixya) 2/2 - beanierose

(part one)

AN: This monstrosity of a chapter would not exist without my amazing betas nadia and meggie, as well as the wonderful cheer squad that is conny, shea and mia. Thank you all so much for listening to my nonsensical ramblings at all hours of the day and night.

(read on a03) | (find me at katiehoughton)

It’s a soulmate AU where you feel the opposite emotion to whatever the other person is feeling | 15,497 words

It feels a little like they exist outside of time. It’s still early, and the street below is quiet. Katya has her kitchen window open; she leaves it that way all summer, even though Mama tuts and frets. She likes the smell of the morning, likes feeling like she’s the only one awake in the whole world.

She isn’t. Trixie is here. She extracts herself from Katya’s arms but stays close, her body warm and good next to Katya’s. She swipes at her cheeks with the pads of her fingers and huffs a self-conscious little laugh. Katya likes her so much.

There’s a box of tissues on the countertop and Trixie pats delicately at her face like she’s forgotten she’s not wearing makeup and is trying to preserve her mascara.

“Sorry,” she says. “I’m not really a crier. I don’t know why I can’t stop today.”

Katya snorts. “I am. The drama of it all? I love it.”

It makes Trixie laugh. Making Trixie laugh is her new most favourite thing to do. Katya wants, so badly, but everything is tentative. She’s not looking to freak Trixie out here. She turns away from her and busies herself with the kettle, setting it on the burner to boil. A tingling hyperawareness of Trixie travels up her spine and along her arms, into her fingertips.

She’s right there. It’s so surreal. She’s waited her whole life to find her sestrinskoye serdste and now she’s here in Katya’s kitchen like they do this every Saturday. Trixie is rummaging in the refrigerator and singing something under her breath.

“Breakfast?” She pops back out to look at Katya around the door.

“I’m teaching a class in about an hour. I don’t like to eat till after.” Trixie wrinkles her nose at that. She’s holding a carton of eggs in both hands, cradling it against her stomach protectively. Katya wants to let her do whatever she likes. Is going to let her. “But we could go out? When I’m done.”

Trixie nods, a few more times than is strictly necessary. She puts the carton of eggs back and closes the door, leans against it. Every time Katya looks at her, it feels like the first time. The light makes Trixie’s lashes and her eyebrow hairs look extra blonde. She has a dimple in her left cheek when she smiles.

And Katya feels, clearer now than she ever has, the tenderness that Trixie has towards her. It’s making her punch-drunk, a bit lightheaded. The kettle starts whistling and she’s glad to busy herself. Trixie works right beside her, slicing up a lemon into segments. The way her wrists move and the delicate grip of her fingers around the knife makes Katya wonder whether she plays piano as well as guitar.

She’s so femme. Not that Katya is at all that butch, but Trixie is something else. Her ponytail is held up with a pink scrunchie and she’s wearing a white mini dress with a pink denim jacket on top. Katya wants to undress her, wants to look at her soft stomach and her thick thighs, but she also doesn’t really want to deconstruct this carefully cultivated look.

“Do you have a container? Usually I like to freeze them.”

Trixie is going to leave things in Katya’s freezer. Trixie is going to come back here, lots and lots of times. She waits patiently for Katya to absorb that information, her face totally smooth and free of uncertainty.

“Um. Yeah. Sure.” She digs around in the cabinet for a Tupperware and hands it to Trixie over her shoulder, not looking.

She takes it. She takes it, and her other hand touches the back of Katya’s head. It’s so quick, could have been an accident, but Katya feels Trixie’s intention behind the wall of her own chest. Trixie wants to touch her.

“I’m gonna go right ahead and slice them all up.”

Katya leans back against the countertop and rests her hands either side of her hips. She knows it makes the muscles in her arms flex, makes her tattoos shift, and she catches Trixie looking. Ever since she met Trixie she’s felt off-kilter, like she has to tread carefully so she doesn’t lose her balance. It’s not really her.

She’s a top, thank you very much.

“That’s very presumptuous, Miss Mattel.” She lifts one eyebrow, sees the two lovely spots of colour that appear in the apples of Trixie’s cheeks, is thrilled by that.

For a second she wonders whether Trixie will be flustered. Instead she puts the knife down - right, oops - and narrows her eyes at Katya. “We are literally soulmates, you dumb slut.”

It’s the first time that either of them has said it so plainly, and it takes them both by surprise. Trixie’s gaze immediately lowers and Katya sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. She likes the way that sounds, would like to hear Trixie tell it to everyone she knows. Katya wants to lean out of the open kitchen window and call down to the people beginning to fill the street below.

“We sure are.” She grins, waits for Trixie to smile back at her. “I gotta get ready for work. Make yourself at home. Fill up my freezer with whatever you want.”

She leaves Trixie in the kitchen, carving her bag of lemons into neat and even segments. Katya’s outfits for teaching vary quite wildly. It depends on how lazy she’s feeling and how on top of her laundry she’s been that week. She just did some, so she picks out her favourite red unitard. It has little eyes embroidered around the bottom of the legs and the built in sports bra makes her tits look bigger than they actually are.

She winds her hair into two braids to keep it out of her face during class, even though her bangs are in her eyes again so she’s still going to end up cranky and sweaty. Maybe Trixie will trim them for her later. Katya puts on some more deodorant, sprays some perfume as well. She’s primping now, and it’s not for her students.

When Katya comes out of her bedroom and Trixie catches sight of her, she drops the knife into the sink. It clatters loudly, and the water is still running, but Katya hears the strangled little noise that Trixie makes. She doesn’t say anything, but Katya doesn’t need her to. She can feel it. The knot of desire tightening in Trixie’s stomach, the frantic pounding of her heart, the rush of blood into all of her extremities.

“You’re so- I just want-”

Trixie holds her wet hands out in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s cleaned the kitchen while Katya was changing, and she’s poured Katya’s tea in a travel mug for her to take to the studio.

Katya wants, too. She does. She’d like to call in sick to work today and take Trixie to bed. But they’ve only known each other for a handful of hours, and if this is going to be forever…she’s not looking to rush things. They deserve more.

“You like it?” Katya turns around to let Trixie see the back of her outfit. Her ass is nothing spectacular compared to Trixie’s, but it’s toned and round and she enjoys showing it off.

She turns back around, and Trixie is blushing again. Still. “I like it very much. You look really hot.”

“Thanks. I gotta leave now, but you can hang out here and I’ll see you when I’m back?”

“No, I’m gonna go back to my hotel,” Trixie says. Katya tries very hard not to let it show on her face, and then remembers that Trixie can feel the disappointment that has just reared its head in her stomach. She comes hastily around the kitchen island to take Katya’s hands in both of hers. “To freshen up. I’ll meet you someplace.”

She feels childlike with wonder. Trixie’s fingers are warm, not so slender and bony as Katya’s, and her thumbs are making absent-minded circles over the backs of Katya’s hands.

“Oh. Okay. Yeah.”

“I want to spend the whole day with you. If that’s alright.”

Trixie is just as tentative as Katya is. She can feel her own heartbeat and feel Trixie’s too, ever so slightly out of sync. Neither of them knows what they’re doing here, not really. Katya had asked her last night if she knows many other soulbound people and she said she doesn’t think so, but since she’s never told anybody before it’s not something that really comes up.

In her nearly forty years on the planet, Katya has only met three soulbound couples. She knows plenty of people who haven’t found their sestrinskoye serdste yet; up until yesterday they’ve been the only people she has who really know how hard it is. But only three who have actually made it work. There were the Sullivans that she grew up watching not at all discretely every Sunday at church. Her friend from college, Brooke, who just last year got married to Vanessa. And her colleague Raja who used to talk non-stop about Raven, her wife.

Three couples is not many, not nearly enough that Katya can hazard a guess as to how this is supposed to go. And anyway, Brooke’s the only one she’s close enough to that she felt comfortable asking what it was like. With Brooke and Vanessa everything happened so quickly, like a flash flood. Katya isn’t sure if it’s because they’re soulbound, or because they’re lesbians.

“I want to spend the day with you too, Trixie.” She still enjoys the sound of her name very much. It feels like an incantation, like if she says it enough times everything between them will go smoothly.

And, well, she’s been waiting thirty years to put a name to her sestrinskoye serdste. When she was younger she used to try and imagine what it could be, would sometimes name them inside of her head just to see what it felt like. Trixie never crossed her mind.

Not just her name. Everything about her.

“I’ll walk you to work?”

Katya agrees to that. She can’t imagine not agreeing to anything that Trixie suggests. She has her gym bag with everything she needs for work slung over her shoulder. It keeps slipping down so she has to hold on to it, but she still has a hand free to hold Trixie’s. They’re clasped loosely so that they can walk, and she likes how warm Trixie’s palm is and the way that their knotted hands will sometimes bump her hip, sometimes Trixie’s.

At the door of the yoga studio, Katya takes her travel mug of tea back from Trixie. Everything this morning has been so achingly domestic. She likes the way Trixie looks in her space. Katya isn’t usually one for sharing her apartment. She loves having friends over, but loves equally when they leave again at the end of the night. It isn’t like that with Trixie. She wants her there again, as many times as Trixie would like.

She has trouble focusing during class. Her students can definitely tell. Usually, she is completely committed to their growth, making sure to divide her attention evenly between all of them. One of her regulars is still having a bit of trouble with her salabhasana and Katya kneels beside her and helps guide her into it, but she’s thinking about Trixie. Kneeling beside Trixie, putting her hands on Trixie.

It takes her until the class is almost over to realize that part of the reason is because Trixie is thinking about her. Trixie is back at her hotel, freshening up — Katya can’t fathom how she could possibly look more like a perfect paper doll cut neatly from a magazine — and thinking about her. And she can feel it, and she can’t focus on much more than the heat between her thighs.

When class is over and Katya checks her phone, she has a text from Trixie. Her head snaps up and sure enough, Trixie is right across the street leaning against the edifice of the laundrette. She has her phone in both hands, her head bent over it. Katya watches her for a second. She wonders if other people are watching her too and wondering who she is. Katya likes the idea of that, of getting to walk outside and greet Trixie and maybe some of those other people will see them and be jealous.

A couple of her students are waiting behind to ask her questions. She’s patient with them, because she feels good after an hour of practice and because she likes them. They’re enthusiastic and willing to learn and she appreciates it. She feels eyes on her and when she sneaks a glance Trixie has put her phone away and is watching.

Outside in the sunshine, Katya gets to hug Trixie hello. She’s let her hair down and it falls in soft curls all across her shoulders and her back. She’s put makeup on, an intricate and graphic eye look and a pink lipstick and more blush than Katya has ever seen on a real person before.

“You know you don’t have to put makeup on for me.”

“It’s not for you,” Trixie shrieks, indignant, and swats at Katya. “It’s for me. I’m feeling my fantasy.”

Katya laughs at that and reaches for Trixie’s hand to hold. She can’t fathom not touching her. Not after how long they’ve waited, how much they’ve hurt. Trixie has sunglasses on top of her head and she puts them on, looks at Katya through the pink circle lenses.

“You’re beautiful either way,” Katya says. She doesn’t mean it to come out with quite so much tenderness, but the way Trixie chews on her bottom lip is worth it.

Just like Trixie suggested, they spend the whole day together. Trixie’s been to Boston a couple of times before but hasn’t seen much of the city, so Katya gets to show her around. Trixie is sweet and enthusiastic, tethered to the end of Katya’s arm. She has something to say about every single thing Katya points out to her. She overflows with opinions and anecdotes, and Katya wants to collect each one like a pearl and thread them all together.

Things between them are so easy. And it’s not just the soulbound thing. Katya is sure after only a day that even if Trixie wasn’t her sestrinskoye serdste, they would still be friends. They have the same sense of humour. Trixie keeps up with Katya’s tangents in a way that not many other people are able to. They laugh all day long.

Trixie likes to take pictures. She takes pictures of Katya and pictures of both of them and pictures of the duckling sculpture in the public garden. When they stop for lunch, Trixie posts a few to her Instagram story. She’s tagged Katya in one of them. It’s a photograph of her, head turned so she’s almost in profile. Trixie’s put a few gifs of hearts around Katya’s head like she’s a cartoon, all lovestruck.

“You kind of have a lot of followers on here,” Katya says. She’s not really sure how to feel about that. Thousands of people are going to see her in Trixie’s story and wonder about her.

Trixie sets her fork down and looks at Katya across the table. “Katya. I’m already sort of famous, and that’s only going to keep growing. Or I hope so, at least.”

“It will,” Katya hurries to reassure Trixie. She believes in herself so much that Katya knows it’s going to happen for her.

“If that’s gonna be a problem for you,” Trixie trails off, waves her now empty hand in the air.

Katya does Trixie the courtesy of really thinking about her answer before she says anything. Just because they’re soulbound doesn’t mean they won’t still have to compromise and work at things.

“It isn’t a problem. I’m really proud of you.”

She can sacrifice a little of her privacy if it means that she gets to be a part of Trixie’s private world. Trixie is smiling into her salad. Beneath the table, she slides her foot forward until it nudges in between both of Katya’s.

“Obviously. I’m incredible.” She fans herself with one hand and makes a little moaning sound and Katya feels it like a hand around her throat, has to press her thighs together even as she laughs.

They head back out into the warmth of Boston in the summertime. Katya sweats even in her unitard, which professes to wick moisture away from the skin. She didn’t bring sunglasses with her and she has to shade shadesher eyes with her hand so that she can even see Trixie.

“Here,” Trixie says. She hands Katya the carton of cigarettes she’s been carrying around all day in her little clear plastic backpack.

Katya didn’t want to carry her duffel around with her all day, so she left it at the yoga studio. They’ll swing by later to get it, but for now Trixie is carrying Katya’s phone and keys and wallet and her cigarettes. It’s so domestic that it aches physically in her chest.

Katya fishes a cigarette out of the pack and lights it, hands everything back to Trixie to put away. She inhales deeply, holds the smoke in her mouth for as long as she can before she has to exhale.

“You keep doing that.”

“Hmm?” Trixie turns to look at her. Her sunglasses are so huge that Katya can’t see much of her face, but she gets the idea. “Doing what?”

Katya takes another drag. “Handing me cigarettes before I even ask.”

She’s done it three or four times so far today. It’s cute, she likes it very very much. And likes too that Trixie doesn’t seem to mind Katya smoking, even though she really shouldn’t be enabled and she’s going to quit soon, she is.

“Oh,” Trixie laughs. “Yeah. I can feel when you need one. I’m craving them too, you bitch.”

Katya stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk, just exactly how she always hates when tourists do. Trixie takes hold of her elbow and draws her to the side so that they’re both leaning against the warm brick of the building beside them.

“You can feel that?”

“Yeah. I can feel pretty much everything.” Katya opens her mouth to apologise, because God knows even she can barely deal with how much she feels sometimes, but Trixie cuts in. “I like it. I like being soulbound to you, Katya.”

It wipes her out. Katya presses the back of her hand to her forehead and closes her eyes. She’s still holding her half-smoked cigarette and she stubs it out against the wall.

When she opens her eyes again Trixie is watching her. She doesn’t look nervous. And that’s probably because she already knows, before Katya speaks.

“I like being soulbound to you as well. A lot. I can’t believe you’re real.”

Trixie takes her hand, now that it’s free. She’s been doing that a lot, all morning. Reaching for Katya, wanting to be near her. It’s sweet, and it’s good, because Katya wants to be near Trixie every day from now on.

“I’m real. You are, too.” She squeezes Katya’s fingers as if to ground her. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Katya says, and finds that she means it.

It takes her the better part of an hour to plan out in her head how to ask Trixie to come up to her apartment. Spending the whole day together has been wonderful, and Katya wants Trixie to spend the night, too.

Not for sex. They’re not going to have sex today, she’s pretty sure. Trixie deserves better than for Katya to shove her up against the front door the second that they get inside, even though it’s all she’s been able to think about for most of the afternoon.

At the door to the building, Katya opens her mouth, but Trixie gets there first. “Can I come up? I don’t wanna say goodbye to you.”

Trixie’s anxious to ask; Katya feels her heart fluttering in her own throat. Both of them are swinging wildly between ease and awkwardness.

“Yes. Yeah, God. Come up.”

Each time Trixie is in Katya’s apartment — this is the third, already, wow — she seems more at home than the last. Katya’s been wearing her unitard out and about around the city all day. Trixie had asked her whether she wanted to change and she had levelled her with a look, had done a little pirouette right where she stood to prove to Trixie that she’s comfortable in her skin.

She leaves Trixie to go shower. And yeah, she hurries, and maybe she gets her makeup remover in her eye and curses loudly up into the stream of the water. She debates, once she’s out. Part of her wants to put on something cute, but she’s tired and she wants to be comfortable. She iscomfortable, around Trixie.

Katya pulls on a pair of gym shorts that she’s had for so long the material has started to go bobbly, and an oversized tee that hangs off one shoulder. Back out in the living room, Trixie has settled herself on the couch and is scrolling through Netflix.

“You look so cute,” she says when she sees Katya.

Her heart grows wings, soars up into her throat. Trixie thinks that she’s cute. Trixie is patting the seat cushion next to her and looking at Katya expectantly.

Inviting Katya onto her own couch. It shouldn’t be hot, shouldn’t send another rush of want through Katya’s stomach and thighs.

She leaves a respectable distance between them when she sits down, and Trixie huffs and shunts over until their legs are touching. Hers are bare too, her dress riding up, and she’s taken off her jacket.

“Do you know what this is?” Trixie gestures at the screen with the remote.

“Do you think I’m some kind of crazy bitch? I’m not that old, I know what Friends is.”

Trixie laughs and dumps the remote on the coffee table. It’s stained with rings from all of the mugs Katya likes to set down carelessly, and one of the legs has a dent she doesn’t even remember putting there. She can’t imagine anything in Trixie’s apartment is less than pristine, but she doesn’t seem to care at all.

“White people problems,” she says in a nasal valley-girl voice that makes Katya wince and hide her face against Trixie’s shoulder.

The sound isn’t even on, she’s got it muted with subtitles, but that’s good. It’s good. It means they can talk. And they do.

Katya has known Trixie as a whole, for all of her life, but she is still not certain about all of the different pieces. And that’s alright. There’s forever to learn.

Last night was hard and lonesome; her body hurts. After an episode and a half, Katya lays herself down right in Trixie’s lap. It’s something she does all the time with friends, but there’s a different sort of intimacy to it tonight.

Trixie’s hand comes to her hair right away and her fingers sift through the knots and tangles. She’s so gentle. When she’s finished, she leaves her wide warm palm at Katya’s cheekbone and her thumb makes slow arcs back and forth.

Katya closes her eyes and allows herself to drift slowly in and out of consciousness. Trixie is above her, smelling so good and still petting Katya’s hair. She talks for a little while longer, but Katya is listening more to the intonation of her voice than the words themselves. Her mumbled, lazy noises in response get more spread out and eventually she gives up altogether.

Trixie is behind her when she wakes up again properly, laying down on the couch. Her arm circles Katya’s middle so that they don’t both roll off, and Katya is delighted to find her there. She’s awake too, Katya feels her awareness like a third presence in the room.

She rolls over, careful not to dislodge Trixie’s arm. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep a lot last night.”

“It’s strange,” Trixie says, and there’s a note of wonder in her voice. “When you’re sleeping. It’s like, this absolute calm. I felt so good, just now.”

I want to make you feel so good, Katya thinks, but does not say. She met Trixie yesterday. And, as much as it aches low down in her gut, she’s enjoying the anticipation too much to give in just yet.

“Do you want to come to bed? The couch isn’t so comfortable.”

“I can’t,” Trixie sighs. Her eyeliner has gotten a little smudged and her lipstick has worn away in the middle. It’s a different Trixie, her first time meeting this version of her, and she likes her just as much as all of the others. “I have to get on the bus at six.”

She sits up, and Katya lets her because she isn’t sure what else to do. They’ve only had this one day and it is so unfair of the universe. To drop Trixie right in her lap and then take her away again just as quickly is cruel and barbed and makes it so that her breath catches in her throat.

“Tour bus?”

“No. I’m not that successful yet. An actual bus.”

Katya likes that. How she says yet, how she believes in herself so unwaveringly. She hopes that Trixie will grow to believe in Katya like that, and in them both together.

“I can’t believe you have to leave already.”

“I know.”

Katya is still in Trixie’s lap and she looks up at her. It’s not a flattering angle, shouldn’t be cute, but Katya likes the smooth column of Trixie’s neck and her round chin.

She sits up, because Trixie’s thighs are warm and soft and right there. It would be so easy to turn her head just a little and open her mouth against Trixie’s skin. Katya feels a bit spaced out from her nap. When she settles upright her brain takes a second to catch up and she closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose.

Gentle fingers at her shoulder make her open her eyes again. She’s not startled by it. It seems as if she will never be startled by Trixie, and Trixie won’t be by her either, because she is as aware of Trixie as she is of her own hands.

“I should go,” Trixie says, and does not move.

She’s got her elbow propped against the back of the couch, her head resting in the cup of her palm. And she’s looking at Katya, and her face is smooth and patient and gentle. Her hair is a little funky in the back from lying on the couch and her makeup is coming away so that Katya can see her pink nose and cheeks.

It’s lovely. Trixie’s lovely.

“You should go,” Katya agrees.

They both know that when Trixie leaves here, they’re not going to get to see each other for weeks. She’s got several more dates of her tour, and then she has to go back to Los Angeles for a bunch of meetings with her producer.

After that’s done, she told Katya that she’ll fly back to Boston and spend some more time with her. Real time, time that can be just theirs. It’s too far away though, and Katya can’t fathom one single day without Trixie now that she knows her.

Trixie’s phone vibrates with a text from Bob. She wrinkles her nose and reads it aloud to Katya. It’s a very graphic description of what Bob is going to do to Trixie if she misses her bus in the morning.

“Go, honey,” Katya says gently. She doesn’t really mean for the hypocorism to escape her, but Trixie blushes immediately and gets this open-mouthed, startled look. “You need to get some sleep.”

Instead of getting up, Trixie tips forwards on the couch until her face is hidden against Katya’s shoulder. She brings her hand up to cup the back of Trixie’s head, touches her thumb to the shell of Trixie’s ear.

“I don’t wanna leave you.” She’s a little petulant, a little bratty, but it’s because she doesn’t want to say goodbye to Katya so it’s just about the most endearing thing she’s ever heard.

This middle of the night tenderness is making Katya brave. She lets her lips brush the crown of Trixie’s head and lingers there for a little while. “I don’t want you to leave me, either. I really don’t. But you’ll be miserable in the morning.”

“I’ll be miserable in the morning anyway,” Trixie says, and sits up. She blinks at Katya. “I can’t believe we only get one day.”

She looks a little teary again. Their twin sadnesses live inside of Katya’s chest, one red and one blue and just slightly offset so that she can hardly breathe around the three dimensional ache of it.

“We don’t just get one day. We’ll see each other soon, honey.”

Trixie nods and bites her bottom lip like she’s trying not to cry. She gets up from the couch and collects her jacket and her backpack, puts her pristine white sneakers back on. She lets Katya walk her all the way down to the lobby and they wait together for her Uber.

They’re holding hands again. Katya’s not wearing any shoes or a bra and Trixie looks like she’s just been released from her twist ties and lifted from her packaging. They must make an insane pair, but it’s nearly one in the morning so Katya doubts anybody’s going to judge them for it.

When the car pulls up Trixie lets out a strangled little noise. She turns to Katya and wraps both arms around her waist, presses her face to Katya’s neck. She has to bend to do it, because she’s several inches taller, and Katya likes the arc of her spine.

“I’ll see you soon, baby. It’s gonna be okay.” She gentles Trixie with her fingers through her hair.

Trixie straightens again and she’s not crying but her eyes are pink and she’s blinking much more than usual. She reminds Katya of a bunny with her soft hair and her big eyes and her little sniffles.

She steps out of the building and greets her Uber driver, slides into the back of the car. Her face is turned towards the window and she flutters her fingers at Katya in a little wave.

Katya turns around to head back upstairs, because she doesn’t want to watch Trixie drive away from her. In her apartment she brushes her teeth and turns out all the lights and flops right into bed. She has both arms around her other pillow and she cradles it to her chest, gives it warm soft skin and thick thighs and hair that smells like juniper berry and lavender.

Her phone is plugged in on the nightstand (she’s proud of herself for remembering) and it buzzes with a message notification. She rolls over and opens one eye to peer at it, the screen too bright even though it’s turned all the way down.

today was one of the most fun days of my whole life, Trixie has sent her. While she’s looking at their conversation, another text comes through. i’m so happy I found you.

Katya still only has one eye open. Her heart is molten and pouring down to pool in the pit of her stomach. She types awkwardly with one finger.

im happy i found u too u rotted skank bitch from hell

go to sleep now, mother

She chases her messages with a whole string of the heart emojis Trixie likes so much. She’s out just that quickly, before Trixie’s reply even comes through, and she sleeps better than she has in weeks.

Texting Trixie becomes a part of Katya’s day right away. She’s not usually big on messaging people, prefers to see them face to face or at least call if that isn’t an option, but she likes it. She likes feeling her phone buzz and seeing the notification and thinking of Trixie.

Sometimes it’s intermittent. They’re both busy, and on separate schedules. Katya wakes up in the mornings to a bunch of messages from Trixie detailing how the show went that night, and she replies for Trixie to see when she wakes up in four or five hours. They call and FaceTime too, but it’s harder to make time for that.

Katya is sitting at the tiny dining table she has crammed in next to the window, working on a bowl of cereal and trying hard to ignore her phone. She’s taught two classes already this morning, back to back early ones, and she’s starving.

good morning baby

She hasn’t sent anything else yet, because she wants to really talk to Trixie. Katya stirs her spoon around and around in her mostly empty bowl. She has her chin propped in her other hand and she gazes out of the window, watches a man across the street setting up to paint a storefront.

Two weeks today, since she met Trixie. It feels like forever ago, and like Trixie was here just last night. She worries at her phone, pulls the case off the corner and back on over and over, and wonders whether Trixie is awake.

She isn’t, Katya is pretty sure. She thinks a lot about waking up and rolling over to look at Trixie, the awe in her voice when she told Katya how good it was to watch her sleep. She can usually pinpoint the exact moment Trixie wakes up because she gets a little flare of awareness in her chest and then less than a minute later her phone vibrates with a new text.

Katya has a Russian class to teach tonight. She busies herself with her lesson plan. This despondent version of her that spends all day squirming around the hook in her guts is someone she doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly like.

She likes Trixie. Likes her very much. But she has to go on with her life. She can’t sit around like it’s 1860 and she’s waiting for her lover to return to the homestead, even if the idea of putting on a prairie dress and sighing dramatically is extremely appealing.

Katya’s phone vibrates and she hurries over to it on the kitchen counter, props her forearms either side of it so she can lean down.

morning gorgeous, Trixie has sent. Heat rushes into her cheeks. Last week, Trixie requested that Katya send her a selfie because she wanted to set it as her phone wallpaper, and when she did Trixie had sent her about forty fire emojis in a row and told her she’s beautiful, a model, she looks like Linda Evangelista.

Katya watches the three dots flickering in the grey bubble and thinks about Trixie touching the screen of her own phone a few hundred miles away.

how’s your morning been??

Katya starts typing, and then thinks better of it. She calls Trixie instead, tries to stifle her grin against her palm when she picks up on the first ring.

“That bad?” Trixie says.

Katya taps the button to put Trixie on speaker. She likes this the best — having Trixie to talk to while she does things. “No. It’s been good actually. How are you?”

“I’ve been awake for about four seconds. Please don’t grill me during this very difficult time.”

“Sorry honey,” Katya laughs. She starts running water to fill the sink; there’s a few days’ worth of dishes piled up that she should really take care of.

Trixie is still talking, telling Katya about the show last night and how amazing the crowd had been. She sounds like she’s laying down still, her voice all soft and breathy. Katya aches to know for sure, to lie next to Trixie in the mornings and see her all sleep-rumpled and cute.

“Stop it, Katya,” Trixie says gently. “I can feel you making yourself sad. Only two more weeks of tour. We can do it.”

Katya is up to her elbows in suds, fumbling gracelessly with her plates and bowls because she can never figure out why her dish soap makes everything so slippery.

“I don’t want to do it.” She says it like it’s a secret, even though she doesn’t really have those from Trixie. “I miss you.”

She does. She misses Trixie so much that it hurts, which makes no sense. They had a day and a half together, that’s all. Last week Katya called Brooke at three in the morning (which is only two in Nashville, so whatever) to ask whether it ever stops being like this.

Brooke said that she and Vanessa have only spent at most three days apart in a row since they met. That when they first met, when it was new, they were not out of each other’s company for more than an hour at a time for weeks and weeks.

It wasn’t particularly helpful.

“I know, babe. I miss you too. But I’ve been trying to think of it like this: I get to have you with me always. Tons of couples do long distance and have to snatch moments wherever they can, but I get to feel you every minute of the day.”

Katya is standing still as a river stone, Trixie’s words sliding smoothly around and over her. Her ears are ringing. She swallows roughly once, and then a second time.

“Couples?” she finally manages to grit out.

“Oh God. Oh my God.”

Trixie sounds more like she’s talking to herself than to Katya, and it’s that that breaks her open. She laughs, too loud in her small apartment, and pulls her hands out of the sink. Katya dries them and takes her phone off of speaker so she can press it to her ear again. It feels more intimate; she likes to hear Trixie right there.

“Don’t freak out on me now, Trixie. You said it.”

She gets a long sigh, and she feels Trixie’s trembling shock at her own self. “Yeah. I did. I want to be a couple. With you. You awful crone.”

“I want to be a couple with you, too. God knows why; you’re so mean to me.”

It makes Trixie laugh, and Katya is laughing too, and it doesn’t ache quite so terribly anymore. This is a temporary predicament, and she still gets to talk to Trixie all the time, and it’s going to be okay.

“Katya,” Trixie says, right as a wave of longing crests up from the pit of Katya’s stomach into her throat. “I wish I was there. I wanna touch you so bad.”

“Yeah. Me too. Listen, I uh- I gotta go. I’ll catch you later. Bye.” She hangs up before Trixie can protest and bows over the counter, head in her hands.

A couple of times when they’ve talked on the phone, Trixie has done this. All of the breath support comes out of her voice. She talks about want, and Katya hears rustling on the other end of the line and has to close her eyes.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk Trixie off. Of course she does. But not for their first time. It’s romantic, which is not like her, but something about Trixie makes Katya want to be chivalrous.

She tries to busy herself cleaning the kitchen, but her thighs are trembling and there’s an ache between them that she’s struggling to ignore. It starts ramping up and Katya closes her eyes and breathes raggedly through her mouth.

And then it dawns on her.

Katya fumbles for her phone and types quickly, doesn’t give herself the time to think over whether this is a good decision.

beatrice mattel!!!!!

i know what ur doing

can u pls not im trying to live my life

Her nipples are hard and rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric of her sports bra. Katya runs the faucet until it’s as cold as it’s going to get and pours herself a glass of water, downs two thirds of it in one go. It doesn’t help very much. Her knees buckle and she crashes against the cabinet, almost goes to the floor.

Katya reaches for her phone again. For a second she debates calling, forcing Trixie to respond, but she can’t listen to her while she’s like this.

trixie. please. dont.

Part of the reason she doesn’t enjoy texting so much is because she finds it hard to convey tone. Trixie teases her a lot about being older, but this is one area where she really feels it. Trixie wields punctuation and capitalisation and emojis like weapons to make clear just exactly what she means.

Katya still feels desperate and fragile, but the edge of it comes away and her phone vibrates.

sorry

didn’t mean to upset you

won’t happen again

She sighs and balls her hand into a fist, presses her knuckles to her forehead. Trixie is a bit of a brat, she’s entitled and she takes exactly what she wants. And Katya loves it, wouldn’t want her any other way.

im not upset

im horny

you cunt

Part of her wants to go to her knees on the kitchen tile and stuff three fingers inside of herself. She’s so close; it wouldn’t take a lot. But it feels indecent and she doesn’t want her own hand. She wants Trixie’s.

i know

i did it on purpose

since you won’t talk dirty to me

Oh, but she will. She will, she wants to, she is going to. Katya is not in the business of saying untrue things, or of not saying things that are true. She thinks there’s an important distinction there. She takes a deep breath and taps out her message.

trixie

i cant stop thinking about kissing you

The response comes through immediately. Katya imagines Trixie typing with her left hand, wiping her right clean against the sheets. Imagines her chest all flushed and her pupils blown wide and her thighs trembling.

why didn’t you then?????

i wanted you to

i was waiting

For a second Katya is affronted that it’s her responsibility. Trixie could have kissed her just as easily. But then she supposes Trixie hasn’t ever had to do that before, hasn’t needed to make the first move because everyone around her seems to give her exactly what she wants at all times.

trixie oh my god

the second youre here

This time Katya can’t blame her arousal on Trixie. She feels like every single hair on her body is standing on end. She moves for the bedroom, stripping her bra off over her head as she goes and leaving it dumped in the hallway. Her phone buzzes in her hand.

yeah?

Katya puts it down for just a second so she can pull her yoga pants and her underwear off. She climbs onto the mattress on her knees and sinks down, grinds against the sheets.

She wants to touch herself; she doesn’t want to stop talking to Trixie; she can’t call her.

yeah

i wanna kiss you for hours and hours

She pauses for a second, but it’s not like Trixie doesn’t already know. There’s no mystery when Trixie’s arousal pulses hot and insistent between Katya’s thighs.

and then i wanna taste you

and touch you

and hear you

god, trixie

im gonna fuck you so good

Katya turns her phone over then and puts it on the nightstand out of her way. She lets her right hand drift between her legs. She’s so wet that it’s all down her thighs, and as soon as she brushes her fingers over herself her hips buck sharply.

She rolls her left nipple — it’s a little more sensitive — between two fingers, and sets a rhythm of tight little circles over her clit. Already pleasure is tingling up the column of her spine and all across her scalp. She’s embarrassingly close, considering all she’s been doing is texting.

But she’s been texting Trixie. And Trixie’s been touching herself, has brought both of them right up to the edge. Katya’s going to be the one to tip them over.

Their first time is still going to be special. This doesn’t count. They’re both touching themselves and thinking of each other and it’s the hottest fucking thing that has happened to Katya in her whole life.

Katya slides a finger inside of herself and clenches around it so violently that all of the breath leaves her chest like a gut punch. She adds another and then a third, her hips rocking wildly and without rhythm so that she barely has to move her hand at all.

The circles she’s making over her clit are getting faster, and she’s so wet she can hardly get enough friction. Katya bites down hard on her bottom lip and curls her fingers and comes hard. Finds herself whispering Trixie’s name as she does.

And then just as she’s coming down another wave hits her and she realises. That was Trixie.

Katya flops onto her back on the mattress and throws an arm over her face. She feels more blissed out than she has in months, maybe years. Since she got sober. She laughs out loud into her empty apartment, and then her phone starts ringing.

“Did you just-?” Trixie says in lieu of hello.

“I sure did, mama. You?”

There’s a beat of silence and Katya imagines Trixie arching lazily in her hotel sheets. Not that she’s ever seen that. They’ve never even kissed, for God’s sake.

“Yeah. It was- really good.” Trixie’s voice is living room quiet, middle of the night tender.

Katya’s breathing is still a little faster than normal. It’s the middle of the day, which is indulgent and unusual for her. For Trixie this probably counts as morning sex.

Or, well- does it count as sex? If this were a normal situation, Katya would say not. But when she was touching herself she was thinking about making Trixie feel good, wondering whether Trixie could feel everything with the same intensity. Katya is fuzzy-skinned and plump like an overripe peach.

“If you’re gonna do that again, I need some warning. Can’t have you jerking off while I’m trying to teach a class.”

The laugh Trixie lets out at that is loud and long and caterwauling. It makes Katya laugh too and she rolls over onto her stomach, phone still held to her ear and getting a little sweaty now.

“I have to ask your permission to come now? What are you, my dad?”

Katya groans and hides her face in the pillow, but she’s already pretty desensitised to Trixie’s off-colour humour. Other parts of her are not so desensitised and she rolls her hips down into the mattress.

“You slut,” Trixie gasps right into her ear. “You’re not done?”

“I hate you so much.”

She can hear Trixie’s grin, the way her words arc around it. “Yeah. Hate you too. Can’t wait for you to sit on my face.”

“Fuck,” Katya says, and hangs up on Trixie again.

Her wrist hurts from the awkward angle she’s at but she’s close enough already, again, that it doesn’t matter. Katya rolls her hips down against her fingers and wishes Trixie were here. She wants to put her face between Trixie’s thighs, wants to feel her heels dig into her back. The thought of it is enough and she comes open-mouthed and silent, Trixie’s name caught in the back of her throat.

After that, things are different.

Trixie gets braver and brattier. She likes to tease, a lot. Sometimes Katya reciprocates, but mostly she shuts Trixie down. She always gets into a snit over it and refuses to text back even though Katya can feel how much Trixie misses her when they go more than an hour without talking.

There are four days left of Trixie’s tour. Four days until she’s back in Los Angeles. She has a lot to take care of once she’s home, so she told Katya she won’t be able to make it out to Boston for another few weeks.

That’s fine. It’s fine, because Katya got Trixie’s roommate’s phone number from Fame, and she’s going to LA.

The Russian class she teaches is on summer break now, and she’s taken a week of the vacation days she never usually uses from the yoga studio. She’s going to be there, when Trixie steps off her plane, and then they’re going to spend a whole week together.

It is an enormous effort not to think about it too much. If she gets excited, or anxious, Trixie is going to know and she’s not going to drop it. Katya has texted Kim a few times to arrange things. They’ve talked on the phone once and she had to sit on the floor in padmasana and breathe slowly through her nose and focus on absolute stillness so she didn’t clue Trixie in.

The night before Katya leaves for Los Angeles, she sits on the sill so that she can smoke out of the open window. It’s so hot in Boston that she’s only wearing her underwear. She’s got Spotify pulled up and her speaker playing from the kitchen, everything Trixie’s ever uploaded.

She’s performing right now. Katya closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall. She thinks a lot about the first time she saw Trixie perform. If she was a little smarter she would have realised before they met that Trixie was her sestrinskoye serdste, because she suffered so badly watching Trixie get her life up on the stage.

Now, it’s like being high. She gets to feel Trixie’s euphoria, her pride in herself, the joy that buoys her to bounce around all over the place while she performs. It does worry her a little. She’s an addict; she can’t really be trusted with things that feel this good.

Sweat is collecting in all of Katya’s creases, her elbows and the backs of her knees, but she doesn’t want to move. This is the time that she feels the closest to Trixie. And she is so achingly proud of her she can hardly stand it. Tomorrow she will fly across the country. Trixie isn’t back until the day after, so Katya has an evening to acclimate to Trixie’s space and hope that she gets along okay with Kim.

It feels as though she’s been waiting all of her life, because she has. Only, these last few weeks have been different. They talk all day long, their hearts are full up with each other almost every moment. While she has been waiting, Trixie has been with her.

Flying is not her favourite thing, but Katya has both of Trixie’s EPs saved to her phone and she plays them on a loop for the whole six hours. She closes her eyes and thinks about Trixie, about how she’ll get to touch her tomorrow. Kim has promised to keep Trixie as distracted as possible today so that she won’t notice Katya has disappeared off the earth for a handful of hours. She’s going to manufacture a crisis, apparently.

Kim is a good friend who loves Trixie very dearly and is thrilled that she’s found Katya. She knows that Trixie is soulbound now, apparently, and Katya wonders who else Trixie has told but is too afraid to ask.

She answers the door and lets Katya in to the apartment. Her makeup is kind of similar to Trixie’s, looks like it must take hours and hours to do in the mornings. She’s tall and her hair is lilac and Katya is immediately obsessed with her.

“That’s Trixie’s room.” Kim gestures to a closed door off the living room. “Make yourself at home. Help yourself to whatever. She’s going to absolutely lose it.”

Katya drags her suitcase into Trixie’s bedroom and leaves it just inside the doorway while she takes the space in. The walls are a soft pink like the inside of a shell. Trixie’s bed is in the middle of the room beneath the window, made neatly with white sheets. There are plants on almost every surface, fairy lights strung up along the bookshelf.

It’s clean, and beautiful, and so Trixie that Katya has to sit down in the white chair at Trixie’s vanity table. She has a blanket folded over the back of it that looks handmade, and Katya brushes her fingers over the wool.

Kim pokes her head around the doorframe. “I’m making tea, if you want some?”

“Sure, thanks. Whatever you’re having sounds good.”

“It’s so like her in here, isn’t it,” Kim says. She’s got this soft little smile on her face and Katya realises for the first time that she’s not the only one missing Trixie.

There are lots and lots of people in her life. People Katya doesn’t know, has no idea even exist. She’d like to meet them, like to hold Trixie’s hand and be introduced to them all as her girlfriend. She’s been calling her that inside her head, but hasn’t yet been brave enough to say it out loud.

It turns out that Kim is great. She’s got a sharp sense of humour that is so much like Trixie’s. They make sense, the two of them. Katya gets to hear stories about what Trixie is like to live with, what she was like in college.

She knows, sort of, because she felt her every single day. It’s nice to attach some anecdotes to the emotions. While Trixie’s been away, each day Katya has chosen a random excerpt from her journals to share with her. It’s like a horoscope, but it’s a recollection and not a prediction. Sometimes Trixie has remembered the events vividly and shared them with Katya, and other times she’s had no idea what was happening.

Katya sleeps in Trixie’s bed. It doesn’t smell too strongly of her, because she’s been away from it for nearly six weeks. Tomorrow night though, she’s going to sleep in this bed with Trixie right beside her.

Her flight gets in pretty early in the morning, which means she’s definitely going to be grumpy. Katya puts on one of her favourite dresses, a long-sleeved black one with floral embroidery. At the airport she gets a chai latte for Trixie and a black coffee for herself and she stands at arrivals, watching everybody pouring out.

The way the airport is set up, with glass all along the hallway, means that she can see Trixie quite easily. She’s coming up the ramp, dragging her pink suitcase behind her. She isn’t looking where she’s going; she’s got her phone in her free hand and she’s typing rapidly with her thumb.

Katya’s phone buzzes insistently in her hand over and over and she unlocks it, opens her messaging app.

babe

tell me not to turn around and get on a plane to boston

that’s a dumb idea, right?

Katya grins and darts a glance at Trixie. She’s almost at the exit now but she still hasn’t looked up from her phone. Even coming off a flight she’s so beautiful, her hair in two braids down her back and little pieces curling around her face.

its a very dumb idea, yeah

because im not in boston

Trixie’s head snaps up at that. She picks Katya out of the crowd right away and when their eyes meet she stumbles, the rhythm of her stride knocked off balance. Katya feels Trixie’s shock hit her and has to take a steadying breath, but the rush of joy that immediately follows is so good it makes her lightheaded. Trixie smiles so big and then ducks her head like she’s shy.

When she reaches Katya she barrels into her and wraps her arms tight around her shoulders. Katya brings a hand up to cradle the back of her head.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she laughs, and Trixie makes a small, strangled noise.

“What are you- how did you get here? Holy shit. Katya.”

Trixie untangles herself from around Katya but doesn’t go far, captures her face between her palms. Her own face is slack with awe so that she’s not even smiling, but Katya is, can’t seem to stop.

“You should tell your roommate not to let strangers into your apartment while you’re out of town.”

“I missed your first time meeting Kim?” Trixie pouts.

Her hands are still on Katya’s face and she seems to remember that quite suddenly. Her thumb comes to Katya’s bottom lip and drags it down experimentally (she sends a silent prayer of thanks up to the gods of liquid lipstick).

Katya sucks in a breath. This is her last ever first kiss. She wants it to be right. Eyes closed, she waits to feel Trixie’s mouth on hers. Instead, their foreheads meet, and when Katya opens her eyes again Trixie’s looking down at her like she’s drowning.

“I wanna kiss you so bad,” she says, and her voice is all punched out and breathy like she already has. “God. I want you so much.”

Katya lifts her chin a little and lets her hands settle at Trixie’s waist. Go ahead.

“But once I start, I’m not gonna be able to stop. And I don’t wanna do it here.”

That’s a very fair assessment. Katya laughs to break the tension and hands Trixie her chai, takes her suitcase from her so she can focus on drinking it.

“Come on, honey. Let me take you home.”

They sit on opposite sides of the car in the Uber to Trixie’s apartment, leaving their hands on the middle seat. Trixie strokes her fingers across the back of Katya’s hand, kneads her knuckles into the meat of Katya’s palm. Trixie’s hands are the most tender part of her, Katya thinks. Not her heart. Trixie’s heart is strong and sure.

Kim has made herself conspicuously absent from the apartment, left a note to tell them that she’ll be back in the morning and to please at least disinfect the surfaces when they’re finished.

While Trixie freshens up from her flight, Katya runs through a very quick flow for calm and inner stability. She’s nervous, which is ridiculous, but Trixie makes her feel like a teenager. When she comes out of the bathroom Katya is on the couch, scrolling blindly through Twitter so that she doesn’t look like she’s just sitting waiting for Trixie.

“Hi,” Katya says, and intimacy colours her voice so it sounds like come here.

Trixie does. It doesn’t surprise Katya at all when she sinks down right into her lap, knees bracketing Katya’s hips and her thick thighs framing Katya’s slender ones.

She’s got her hands braced against the back of the couch either side of Katya’s head like she doesn’t trust herself not to ravage her immediately.

“I’ve thought about this every moment of every day since I met you,” Trixie says.

She’s doing a really good job of sounding confident, but Katya feels her uncertainty just as intensely as she feels her own.

“I have too,” Katya confesses. She reaches up to touch Trixie, the soft skin of her cheek. “God. You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Trixie says. Her voice is so quiet, gentle like she gets when Katya’s anxiety is bad and she’s doing her best to soothe her. “If that’s alright.”

When Trixie leans in and closes the distance between them, Katya can hardly breathe around the swell of her heart in her throat. Trixie’s lips are soft and she tastes like mint, must have just brushed her teeth. Katya’s ready for Trixie to deepen things right away but she doesn’t, kisses Katya soft and slow. It feels so good, and she feels how good it is for Trixie too and it’s almost too much. She finds herself balling her hands tightly into fists and then flexing her fingers again, over and over at Trixie’s hips.

“You can touch me,” Trixie says against Katya’s mouth. “I want you to touch me.”

She splays her hands wide at Trixie’s ass and uses that grip to haul her in close. Trixie’s hips rock down sharply against Katya’s and she can feel the heat of her already. Trixie’s hands are in Katya’s hair and she tugs experimentally right at her scalp. Katya gasps into Trixie’s mouth and presses her legs together, can’t quite hold back the low groan that rumbles out of her.

“Really?” Trixie grins down at her. “Huh. I thought you were the top.”

Even after only four weeks, even though this is their first time doing this, Katya knows how much Trixie enjoys making her flustered. She likes to hear Katya strung out and desperate. It makes sense that she’d want to see her that way too, beneath her on the couch.

“I brought a strap, you fucking bitch,” Katya says, and gets her hand up beneath Trixie’s dress to brush against her.

It makes her stop laughing immediately, makes her fall forwards and let out an utterly obscene whine right against Katya’s ear. She rocks against Katya’s fingers, already soaked through her underwear.

Touching Trixie feels so good, and she can feel how good Trixie feels to be touched at the same time, and it’s the hottest and most intense thing she’s ever experienced.

She pushes the fabric of Trixie’s underwear out of the way so she can get her fingers against the slick heat of her. When Katya touches Trixie’s clit she yelps and a shudder rips through her entire body.

“You brought a- a dildo through TSA?” Her voice is coming in short bursts now and she’s panting already, her breath hot at Katya’s neck.

“No,” Katya snorts. “Just my harness. Figured you probably have your favourites.”

Trixie clenches around nothing at that, Katya feels it both where her fingers are and between her own legs. She’s still making lazy circles against Trixie’s clit and she picks up the pace a little bit.

“Oh, fuck, Katya,” Trixie says when she slides one finger into her.

“Yeah, baby. Working on it.”

Trixie likes to talk, is a chronic interrupter. It’s not at all surprising that she talks constantly while Katya fucks her. She adds another finger pretty much right away, because Trixie is so wet and desperate that there’s no resistance at all.

“God. Fuck. You feel so good. Did you-” Katya curls her fingers and Trixie growls in the back of her throat. “Did you know it would be this good?”

Katya has her open mouth against Trixie’s neck and she lets her teeth graze very lightly against the smooth skin there, lets the tip of her tongue just dart out to touch.

“I didn’t know. But I hoped.”

Trixie bites Katya’s clavicle. “More, Katya, please. I need more. I need you to fill me.”

She obliges, adds a third finger that makes Trixie cry out. Katya is barely even moving, just letting Trixie ride her hand and grind against her palm. They’re both still fully clothed.

When Trixie comes she’s silent, which is interesting. They’ve touched themselves together a few times, so Katya knows what it feels like when Trixie comes, but it’s different having her right here in her lap. She works her through it, fucks her with three fingers until she’s trembling and collapsed against Katya’s chest.

As soon as she gets her breath back, Trixie climbs off of Katya’s lap and goes to the floor. She kneels in front of the couch and wraps her hands around the backs of Katya’s thighs, hauls her to the edge of the cushion. Trixie shoves the skirt of Katya’s dress up out of her way and pulls her underwear off, tosses them aside somewhere behind herself.

The anticipation is driving Katya nuts. She can feel Trixie’s warm breath so close to where she needs her, and she can feel how badly Trixie wants her. Trixie lays her cheek against the inside of Katya’s thigh and blinks up at her.

“I’ve thought about this so much. Your thighs. How much I’ve been wanting to be between them. I wanna eat you out every day for the rest of my life.”

Katya’s hips lift at that, chasing Trixie’s mouth. She decides to play nice, for once, and licks Katya slowly. It’s so good. Katya pulls her dress up over her head. She’s not wearing a bra and she pinches and rolls her nipples, stares down at Trixie between her legs. Katya grinds against Trixie’s face, chases the coiling tension in the pit of her stomach.

Trixie slides two fingers into her at once and sucks hard on her clit and that’s all it takes, she comes with a little shout and arches off the couch cushion.

Still on the floor, Trixie smiles sweetly up at her. “I want you to fuck me. Properly. I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”

“Sure, honey.” Katya sits up and leans forwards, takes Trixie’s face in both hands so she can kiss her. She smoothes her thumb over Trixie’s eyebrow. “Since you’ve been such a good girl, we can do that. Go pick out something nice. I’ll be right there.”

She makes herself wait much longer than she’d like. Katya likes to top, she likes the control that it gives her and it makes her feel good to be wanted so badly. She just needs a minute to get into the right headspace. She pours herself a glass of water from the Brita in the refrigerator and drinks it slowly.

In the bedroom, Trixie is lying on her front in the middle of the bed. There’s a dildo next to her on the sheets, pink and thinner than Katya would have expected. She rummages in her suitcase for the ring harness and steps into it, glad Trixie is face down and doesn’t get to see this part. Once everything is in place Katya gives an experimental tug on her dick to make sure it’s secure.

Trixie is whining very quietly and her hips are rocking back and forth, but she doesn’t turn her head, doesn’t look at Katya. Between her own thighs, Katya feels how desperately Trixie needs her right now.

She puts a knee on the mattress and Trixie keens when her body dips towards it. Katya nudges Trixie’s legs apart and settles between them, drapes herself over Trixie’s back. She kisses Trixie’s shoulder, open-mouthed, and lets her dick slide against the crease of Trixie’s ass.

“Good girl, Trixie. You’re so patient. Are you ready, baby?”

Trixie nods. She’s got her face squashed against the pillows so Katya can’t see much more than the curve of her cheek and her delicate ear. She wraps one hand around her dick and guides herself into Trixie.

For the very first time, Katya realises what it must be like to have an actual dick. As she pushes inside of Trixie she feels it, feels the stretch and how good it is to be filled. Trixie angles her hips up and back and Katya pulls out just a little, fucks into her hard again.

“Oh, Trixie, that’s- wow,” she says into the back of Trixie’s head, and gets a little keening noise of agreement.

Katya sets a steady rhythm, fucks Trixie hard and reaches around underneath their bodies to rub at her clit. She can feel exactly how much Trixie can take, knows just how hard she can push it. Sweat beads at her hairline and slides down towards her ears.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Trixie says.

Her hips still immediately and she supports her body weight on her elbows. She doesn’t think she hurt Trixie. She’d have felt it, surely, and it doesn’t feel like Trixie’s upset.

“I wanna see you. I wanna kiss you.”

Katya pulls out and gives Trixie room to roll onto her back beneath her. She pushes back in immediately, because it feels so fucking good to be inside of Trixie and she wants to stay there forever.

The snap of Katya’s hips against Trixie’s does not at all match the leisurely way that she kisses her. She licks into Trixie’s mouth, bites her bottom lip and sucks on it to soothe her.

“Oh, yes, right there,” Trixie gasps when Katya shifts the angle of her hips. “Don’t stop, Katya. Don’t stop.”

When Trixie comes she closes her eyes and tips her head back and clutches at Katya’s shoulders, one leg up around her waist and the heel of her foot digging into Katya’s ass.

After they’ve both used the bathroom and Katya’s taken the harness off and gotten each of them a glass of water, she joins Trixie in bed. Trixie tucks herself under Katya’s arm and traces lazy, concentric circles over her stomach with the tip of her finger.

“Ever let anybody rail you on the first date, before?”

“Only my uncle,” Trixie says, and then screams a laugh at herself. “But this wasn’t our first date.”

It wasn’t. She’s right. Katya kisses Trixie’s forehead because she can, because Trixie’s right there and she’s been thinking about it for a month.

“I’m so happy you’re here. I can’t believe that you’re here.”

“It’s okay?” Katya asks quietly. Part of her has been worried that Trixie is going to be mad, isn’t going to want Katya in her space.

Trixie props herself up on one elbow so she can look down at Katya. She has an adorable little crease between her eyebrows and she studies Katya for a long time.

“When you’re not near me,” Trixie starts, and touches the tips of two fingers to Katya’s chin. “It is a physical ache. I don’t ever wanna do that again. I don’t ever wanna be away from you for that long again.”

They spend almost the entire week together and settle quickly into a routine. Katya wakes up early in the mornings and does yoga in the living room, smokes a cigarette on Trixie’s tiny balcony while she waits for the kettle to boil. She comes back to bed with tea for them both and gets to wake Trixie. Every morning, when Trixie opens her eyes to look at her, Katya feels a little surge of joy right in the centre of her chest. She likes being the first thing Trixie sees each day.

Today is her last day in Los Angeles. They’ve gotten to walk around holding hands in the daylight. They’ve hiked and gone to the movies and gotten ice cream; they’ve fucked like every time is their last. Katya finds that she likes LA, even though it’s even more disgustingly hot than Boston.

She could see herself here.

Trixie is still sleeping and Katya leaves her tea on the nightstand in case she wakes up, goes back out onto the balcony with her phone in her hand. She dials, listens to it ring twice before it connects.

“Katenka?”

“Da, Mama. Privet.” Now that she’s older, and less stubborn, Katya speaks mostly in Russian to her parents. She doesn’t want to lose it, and now that she’s not living with Sasha anymore it’s good to practice.

Katya leans against the railing and holds her phone to her ear, only half listening. Her mother likes to begin every conversation by catching Katya up with all of the neighbourhood gossip. Half of these people she hasn’t seen for fifteen years, but she offers her mother a little assent every now and then anyway.

“Listen, Mama,” she says when there’s a break in the conversation. “I found them.”

“Your sestrinskoye serdste?” her mother gasps.

They’ve been worrying. Papa doesn’t show it, but Mama often frets that Katya is approaching forty and maybe she should forget about being soulbound and just settle down with someone. She knows that they’re afraid they’re going to die without seeing their daughter married off. But now there’s Trixie.

“Da. Her name is Trixie. She’s a musician. She lives in California. I’m at her apartment right now.” She pauses to give her mother time to digest all of that and then she says, softer, “I really like her, Mama.”

“Oh, Katenka, sweetheart. That’s wonderful. I’m so glad. Can we meet her?”

She thinks about that, about bringing Trixie home to her family. She knows that Trixie’s relationship with her own family is strained, thinks about her mother hugging Trixie hello and bringing her into the kitchen, trying to fatten her up. “Soon, Mama. I promise.”

The sliding door to the balcony makes a screeching noise when it’s pushed open further, and then Katya feels the warmth of Trixie right behind her. She wraps both arms around Katya and draws her back against her chest, kisses her cheek.

“I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. I love you,” Katya says, and hangs up the call.

She turns in the circle of Trixie’s arms and leans in to kiss her good morning. Trixie is responsive, opening her mouth and sliding her tongue against Katya’s. When they break apart her cheeks are flushed.

“That your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you speak Russian.”

It makes Katya laugh and Trixie grins too, pleased with herself. Her hair is a little rumpled and Katya smoothes it down for her, leaves a little kiss at the end of her nose.

“She wants to meet you. She’s very excited that I found my sestrinskoye serdste.”

“I still can’t believe you call it that.”

Katya lifts both eyebrows and leans back a little against the grip of Trixie’s arms. “What do you call it?”

“A soulmate. Because I’m not a pretentious asshole.”

She swats at Trixie, pouts at her, but she knows Trixie can feel that she’s not offended. Quite the opposite. Every single thing Trixie does endears her hopelessly to Katya. They make out lazily on the balcony for a little while, neither of them caring that the whole world can see. Katya still remembers the way Trixie looked down at her and said she never wants them to be apart. It makes her brave.

“Hey, Trixie?”

“Mm,” Trixie hums, and kisses her again.

Katya takes a small step back, her ass hitting the railing, so she can see Trixie properly. “What do you think about me moving out here? I could get a really tiny, really shitty apartment and teach yoga.”

“No,” Trixie says. It doesn’t match up with the joy that has come to life in her chest, the joy that is pouring slowly through Katya as well like longing made liquid.

“No?”

Trixie shakes her head, says it again. “No. No tiny apartment. Move in with me.”

For a long moment Katya can only stare at her, slack-jawed. She thinks about it. She’s always been a solitary creature, afraid of commitment, afraid of intimacy. But then, isn’t that because all this time she’s been waiting for Trixie? It doesn’t scare her. Not like it used to. She still hasn’t said anything, and she knows it’s freaking Trixie out but she can’t make her brain work.

“Katya. I know this is insane. I know we’ve only known each other for like a month and a half. But- I’m in love with you. I love you.”

She remembers the very first time Trixie felt it. They had been in the kitchen, Katya cleaning the dishes from the dinner Trixie had cooked for them. Trixie had been sitting on the countertop, swinging her bare legs and occasionally poking Katya in the side with her toes.

“Why don’t you go run yourself a bath? I got you a new bubble bar while you had your meeting, today,” Katya had said. A rush of clear and brilliant adoration had washed through Trixie and she had gaped at Katya for a second before kissing her, with more tongue than she anticipated.

She remembers finding it funny that Trixie had only just then realised. Katya’s known it from the very start. It’s been a fact of her life: her name is Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, she is an addict, she is in love with her sestrinskoye serdste.

“Oh, Trixie, baby,” she says on a bubble of wet laughter, has to close her eyes so she doesn’t cry. “I’ve loved you for your whole life.”

They’re both crying then, and laughing, and clutching at each other. Kim pokes her head around the doorframe to look at them.

“What are you two lesbians doing?”

“Kimberly,” Trixie says like she’s thrilled to see her. “Is it cool if Katya moves in here?”

Kim snorts. “Is she gonna contribute to the rent?”

“I sure will. And the chores. I’ll be a very good roommate.”

Trixie’s hand is inside the waistband of Katya’s yoga pants and she tugs them away from her skin to let cool air inside. It’s very distracting, makes Katya shiver. She reaches around behind herself and circles Trixie’s wrist in her fingers to keep her still.

Kim is watching them, a look of disgust on her face, but then she grins. “Then yes. It’s cool. It’ll be nice to have someone else to share the burden of living with Trixie.”

“Wow, fuck you too,” she says, but she’s smiling still.

Suddenly the prospect of leaving tomorrow doesn’t seem so awful. They spend the afternoon at the beach. Trixie’s wearing a pink coverup and a huge hat and she sits neatly on her towel and reads, occasionally looking up at Katya over top of her sunglasses.

Katya wades into the ocean. A small child is watching her from a few feet away, staring at her tattoos. She smiles at them, allows them to touch her skin when they come closer. She’s got her hair tied up on top of her head in a scrunchie so they’re all on show, even the one between her shoulder blades that isn’t visible very often.

Once the child’s parent comes to collect them, Katya walks a little deeper until the water laps at her waist. From here Trixie looks like a vintage drawing, like a 50’s pin up girl. She’s got the front of her hair pinned in curls around her face to complete the fantasy.

The water is cool and lovely but Katya still feels hot. She put on sunscreen, mostly because she wanted Trixie to rub it into her back and then she got to rub Trixie’s back too. It’s difficult to cool off when Trixie insists on lying out like a lizard, but she doesn’t mind really.

They’re going to get to do this forever. The thought makes her smile, and suddenly she needs to be close to Trixie. She starts making her way to shore, the water dragging at her thighs and calves so she can’t move as quickly as she wants to.

When she reaches Trixie, Katya kneels down beside her. She keeps her in place with one hand at her thigh and leans in beneath the brim of her ridiculous hat. She kisses her, lets herself linger because this part of the beach isn’t too crowded.

“Hi, beautiful,” she says when they separate. “I missed you.”

“You were twenty feet away,” Trixie says, but she knocks her forehead against Katya’s and then steals another kiss from her.

Katya unrolls her own towel and stretches out next to Trixie on the sand. She doesn’t have the attention span for sunbathing usually, but lying here watching Trixie she has plenty to keep her occupied.

After a while Trixie sets her book down and pulls a notebook and a pink pen out of her bag. She’s working on a new song; Katya’s spent the last few nights lying with her head pillowed on Trixie’s thighs and feeling the reverberation of the guitar through her skull.

She likes to watch Trixie work, see her chewing on her bottom lip and sighing every now and then. Sometimes she will hum the melody very softly so that Katya almost thinks she’s imagined it.

They leave the beach when Trixie gets hungry and get dinner at her favourite vegan burger place. They have fries to share and Trixie lets Katya feed them to her across the table. She’s sad, and trying not to be, because she doesn’t want to make Trixie sad as well.

“How long do you think it’ll be. Before you can move here?”

Katya chews and swallows her food because she knows Trixie hates it when she talks with her mouth full. There’s a little streak of sunscreen on the tip of her nose from when she reapplied before they ate that Katya can’t stop looking at. She feels good, warm and loose-limbed and sitting out on the patio with the woman she loves beyond her capacity to love.

“M’not sure. I’ll have to give notice on my apartment, and at work. Break it to my parents. Pack everything up. Hire movers, I guess?”

Her chest gets tight. There’s so much to be done. She’s really going to uproot her whole life for somebody she’s known not even two months. It’s insane, and she’s definitely going to be scolded by her family and her friends and colleagues.

And then Trixie reaches across the table and takes her hand. Her skin is so soft. Katya knows now that it’s because she moisturises religiously, has been allowed to work Trixie’s expensive lotions into her legs for her at night.

“You don’t have to do this. If it’s too much.”

“It’s a lot,” she agrees. “But honey, you’re the only person that I want to be with, every single day.”

That makes Trixie blush and Katya feels her squirming pleasure, remembers too late that when she knocks the breath out of Trixie like this she has to deal with her own lungs caving in too.

“I love you so much. I’m so excited.”

Yeah. She is too.

* * *

Katya packs up her entire life in five neatly labelled cardboard boxes. They hire a truck and make an adventure of it, her and Fame. She says she wants to visit LA anyway, now that summer is rolling lazily over into fall and she can bear the heat a little better.

People have been a lot more accepting than Katya anticipated. Her mama had cried when she told her she was moving, but had insisted it was out of joy that she finally found Trixie. Most people, when she tells them she found her sestrinskoye serdste and she’s a tall, blonde country singer, are thrilled for her.

There are a lot of yoga studios in Los Angeles. Katya finds a job easily and finds that she loves it. It’s winter and she doesn’t need a coat or three layers of thermals. She likes the sunshine and she likes the beach and she likes Trixie most of all.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon a week before Christmas. The apartment is decorated, and Kim and Trixie even let Katya hang some of her ornaments on their tree. There are little plastic babies and eyeballs and hands and the two of them are gracious enough to pretend they don’t think she’s a lunatic.

Katya hears footsteps thundering up the stairs and the clutch of excitement in her chest, suddenly. The door opens and Trixie comes hurtling into the apartment, goes straight for the kitchen. She turns on the radio and fiddles with the knobs, grabs blindly for Katya’s hand when she comes to stand beside her.

“Are you okay, honey?”

“Shhh. Listen.”

Trixie turns up the volume and the two of them stand hand in hand in their kitchen and listen to the radio announcer, introducing newcomer Trixie Mattel! and the lead single from her new Christmas album.

“They’re playing it!” Trixie yells, and throws her arms around Katya.

She can feel the wide arc of Trixie’s grin against her neck. “Oh my God, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Trixie’s phone is vibrating frantically with messages from just about everyone she’s ever met in her life. She turns it over and dumps it on the counter, holds Katya in place with both hands at her shoulders.

“They’re playing it,” she says again, on a whisper this time, and shakes her head like she can’t quite believe it.

Once her song finishes she shuts the radio off and they stand in the silence together. Trixie is shaking, her lashes are wet and sticking together and she’s staring open-mouthed at Katya.

It would be difficult for her to put words to how she’s feeling right now. But that’s alright, because Katya feels everything too just as fiercely. And she knows that Trixie knows how proud she is, so she doesn’t have to embarrass herself by trying to say it out loud.

After that, everything happens quickly. She knows it doesn’t work that way, that Trixie has been trying for years and years to break into the mainstream. That the radio calling her a newcomer just reinforces the idea that things fall magically into her lap, when really Katya knows how much she has to fight for everything she wants. But it seems like one minute they’re sharing their tiny two bed with Kim and the next, they’re shopping for houses.

Trixie is very particular about it, which comes as a surprise to absolutely no one. They’re looking for a fixer upper, partly because the royalty checks Trixie gets in the mail aren’t quite that fat yet, and partly because Trixie wants everything to be just to her taste.

Their taste, she keeps insisting, but Katya doesn’t care as long as there’s a space for her practice and Trixie lets her hang some of her favourite drawings. Katya likes the idea of doing things herself, of making their home pretty for her girlfriend, and has taken to spending hours in the evenings on her laptop in bed next to Trixie researching how to plumb a toilet or demolish a soffit.

She wears her glasses, because she’s thirty eight years old, and because she knows it makes Trixie hot for her. She gets an hour at most before Trixie takes the laptop from her and climbs into her lap and kisses her deep and slow.

Everything is feeling very adult, all of a sudden. She has a job and a girlfriend that she’s buying a house with and suddenly the future isn’t so intangible. She’s planning for it, letting herself think about five or ten years from now.

This year, in September, she will have been sober for five years. There are days it hardly crosses her mind, and days she can’t focus on anything else at all, but those are a lot more rare now. If Trixie comes home from the studio or meetings or a television performance and finds Katya on the bathroom floor with all of the lights out in the apartment, it doesn’t take her by surprise because she feels Katya’s fear. And because of that, she knows to wrap both arms around her and sit in the silence until she comes back to herself.

Most days are good days. It helps, that her reason for staying sober is no longer just for her own sake. She was always terribly selfish, because all addicts are, and she likes that Trixie has made her selfless.

“What’s this one?” Katya calls out.

She can’t see over the top of the cardboard box in her arms and she feels juvenile yelling for Trixie like they’re playing Marco Polo. Today is one year since they met and — they haven’t done it on purpose — they are moving into their first home. It’s a three bed bungalow in Pasadena that Katya is only paying for about twenty percent of, but Trixie insisted.

Katya can’t stop thinking about Trixie in overalls with a scarf tied around her hair, standing on tiptoe to paint the parts of the walls that Katya can’t reach. She has a tour coming up in the fall, and neither of them want to think about being apart for seven weeks, but everything is different now. Trixie will come home from tour to their house. She will help Katya raise their dog, a rescue named Bunny they both absolutely adore.

“That’s for my office,” Trixie says right into her ear. It startles her, but Trixie catches the box before she’s even really dropping it.

Katya pads down the hall after Trixie and follows her into the room at the front of the house they’ve designated as her workspace. All of her guitars will hang on the wall in here eventually. Right now there are drop sheets down still to protect the new floors they had installed throughout. Trixie sets the box down and turns to look at Katya.

“Hey,” she says. Come here.

Katya steps into her space and slides her arms easily around Trixie’s waist. She kisses her, slow and exploratory until she feels Trixie’s knees start to liquify and she sags in her arms.

Since they’ve lived together, things have settled down a bit. Katya no longer feels every single tiny blip on Trixie’s emotional seismometer. She still gets the big things, like how it was when they were growing up, but so much better.

“I can’t believe this is our life,” Katya whispers. She kisses Trixie again, takes her time because they have time. They’ve got all the time in the world, now. Trixie is always responsive, always sweet and silly, and she kisses Katya like she likes her so much.

“Listen. I gotta talk to you about something.” Trixie takes a deep breath and meets Katya’s eyes. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore.”

There’s mischief flitting with crêpe paper wings inside of Katya’s chest. Trixie’s mouth isn’t smiling, but her eyes are, and she’s clinging tight to Katya’s hands.

“Oh no?”

“No. I want to be your wife. I wanna marry you, Katya.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your knees or something?” Katya says, and is proud that her voice only cracks once.

Trixie kneels down as daintily as she can. She’s wearing jeans today, which startled Katya so badly this morning that for a second she felt like she’d seen a poltergeist. The floor is dusty and there’s still protective paper covering the window and a bulb dangles grotesquely from a wire over their heads because they haven’t picked a fixture yet.

It’s perfect.

“Katya,” Trixie starts. She takes both of Katya’s hands in hers and Katya kneels down in front of her, wants them to be on an even keel for this.

“I could say a bunch of straight people shit, like that I can’t imagine my life without you in it, but the gag is that it’s true. I can’t, because I’ve never experienced that.”

Trixie laughs, and Katya does too even though hot tears are already sliding down her cheeks and off the end of her nose. It earns her a look of concern from Trixie and she makes a little noise to say keep going.

“And I know that we’re forever and it’s just a piece of paper and it doesn’t really mean anything, but…it kinda does mean something. To me. And I just really like the thought of calling you my wife and never ever shutting up about it.” She darts a glance over to the dog, who is hopping around and wagging her tail furiously. “Plus, our daughter is illegitimate and we just can’t have that. The scandal of it all.”

Katya chokes on a sob and then surges forwards to kiss Trixie. It is not at all sexy; she’s openly crying into Trixie’s mouth and Bunny is barking at them both, getting swept up in the excitement.

She kisses Trixie deep and open-mouthed, lets her tongue slick inside and keeps Trixie in place with her palm at her cheek. She’s going to be her wife. Katya likes that thought, and likes the thought of being a wife herself, too. It doesn’t terrify her anymore. How could it?

Here is Trixie, warm and soft and good and asking Katya for something she has always intended to give. They separate and the dog nudges her way in between them and licks Katya’s neck, her wiggly body bumping into Katya’s stomach.

Katya keeps Bunny aside with a hand at her chest. Trixie is grinning so big that her eyes are creasing and Katya can see all of her teeth. Her freckles are dark with the summertime and her nose is a little sunburnt and Katya loves her.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you fucking monster. You swamp thing.” She rests her forehead at Trixie’s chin for a moment, just to catch her breath, and then she straightens to see her again. “Yes. Of course. Of course.”

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #soulmate au #lesbian au #fluff #smut #like a LOT of smut #ficon #beanierose

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inuyashasnook · 5 years ago

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Feral - Chapter Five

Surprise, it’s finally here, 18000 years later, since I take forever to write anything, apparently. And I have the immune system of a pea and get sick around 13 times a year, and with that I’m not even exaggerating. Things have been hectic (for the good, but mostly for the bad) in my life lately, so I sincerely apologize for the major delay in publishing this chapter. It’s a big year since I’m starting my application to vet school, on top of classes and caring for a very needy kitten. I’ve also gotten sick over the past 3 days so I apologize for that as well. I’ve taken every cold medication under the sun, and even that didn’t help me this time.

I apologize for any typos and mistakes, I’m heavily under the influence of several kinds of cold medication.

»»———————————————- ♡ —————————————««  Feral: Chapter 5 // FF.net Rating: M (foul language + some suggestive themes, nothing graphical) Word Count: 3865

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Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Inuyasha’s progress in both his speech and his overall social skills advanced smoothly. Ahead of schedule actually. This elated Kagome for the sake of both her subject and her project. This meant that all the effort and faith she put into it would finally be able to pay off in the end. When she turned over to check the time on her bedside clock, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and the crinkling of her duvet cover alerted her room companion that she’d awakened. The clock read 5:00 AM. Today was the big day.

It was the big day where Inuyasha could come to school with her. She had to teach a single lecture on Wednesdays, so it was the perfect opportunity to test how well he’d do in a semi-public environment where he couldn’t rely on her. She’d be present, yes, but he had to rely on himself to fit in with the rest. And since this was a first-year class, and it was so large, people wouldn’t notice the extra presence in the room. They’d gone out together in public countless times, but he’d always trail behind her, just like a lost duckling following its mother. Kagome wanted him to learn to fend off for himself little by little, so this opportunity would be a great time to test him.

She wouldn’t let the white-haired half-demon be like little Albert; becoming an adult without being desensitized to something they feared. Except in Inuyasha’s case, it was the humans themselves he was wary of, not snow colored rabbits. “n-‘Gome, is it time to get up yet?” the raspy male voice echoed in the silent bedroom for the exception of the humming of the celling fan. The soft snores of his only human companion answered his question as she’d fallen back asleep within mere seconds of being awake. Sheesh, Kagome really had to learn to be more wary of her surroundings. Inuyasha was certain that one day, her ease to fall asleep would be her downfall. That girl could sleep anywhere and it didn’t take long for her to snooze off either! He could sleep in for another hour he guessed from the lack of light that usually filtered through the blinds by the time they had to wake up. Not that he’d be able to get much more though, with the speed at which his heart was pounding through his chest. Never in a million years would he admit that he was nervous for such a mundane thing such as going to school though. If humans could go through the routine of waking up every weekday to go to work or school, so could he. How in the world had he let Kagome pep talk him into this in the first place? He’d never admit he’d developed a soft spot for the petite professor either though. Nothing angered him more than when she’d come home with the stench of that mangy wolf professor who worked with her. Or when she talked about all those amazing projects she worked on with other people in her department. Why couldn’t they do these fun things together, huh? Was he such a drag that they didn’t get to spend some ‘quality time’ together, like she liked to call it? At least by going to school with her, he could monitor that stupid canine demon and make sure he kept his filthy claws off of her. Plus whatever other loser that tried to make her day hell. Kagome was so trusting that it worried him to no ends. He stretched out his limbs to shake off his grogginess and to start his new morning routine. After a few more minutes of stretching, the muscular man got up, folded up his futon in the room's corner and exited the room as quietly as possible, making sure not to slam the door on his way out.

The soft padding of clawed feet on barren floor rang through the empty halls. Inuyasha strolled towards the kitchen, turned on the switch of the kettle to prepare himself and Kagome a cup of tea. The woman was really not a morning person, so he figured he could help her out a bit, especially with what she’d been doing for him. He swears, she had to have the patience of a saint. Especially since she had to work with a wolf demon every day. Plus, she fed him delicious food every day, and honestly, that was more than anyone had ever done for him. Of course he did his share by helping her prepare it, but Inuyasha still remembered his days before his new cozy life where he’d have to scavenge and hunt for food, never certain on when the next time he could eat would be.

Yet, Kagome fed him, housed him, and spent most of her time with him. What was up with that? What made her so different from the other humans? Why didn’t she run away in fear when she first met him? Why him?

Inuyasha shook his head trying to free his head from the countless questions that had started tormenting him again.

While he waited for the familiar whistle and click of the kettle to announce that the water had successfully boiled, he went in the bathroom to brush out the few strands of his white silky hair that had gotten tangled while he slept. Sleeping. That was something that he’d never been able to do before he started living with Kagome. He’d had to sleep with one eye open like a cat his entire life so far because he hadn’t been able to trust anyone so far in his life. Did that mean he trusted Kagome? No way. That was impossible. The great Inuyasha trusted no one in this world because anyone he’d even remotely cared for had stabbed him in the back in the long run. Inuyasha sighed and put his brush away after looking in his reflection from every angle in the mirror to make sure he’d gotten all the tangles. His ears perked up as he heard the distant whistle and click of the kettle, indicating that he needed to return to the kitchen to pour out his cup morning green tea in his usual mug.

The mug that Kagome had picked out for him. God, he hated the stupid thing, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her he wouldn’t use it. It was a red mug with little dog paws and white dogs running around it as its print. She’d gotten it for him when he first started living with her and he’d been using it ever since. As he started preparing his breakfast, he heard the hammering noise of his female companion running out of her room at lightning speed towards the washroom. She was running late for work, once again. It was nothing he wasn’t used to by now though, as Kagome was the last thing to a morning person. This had become routine by now. Inuyasha would wake up, get ready, and help Kagome out by preparing her coffee and breakfast on most mornings. That was his sign to pour her a cup of tea and place her two pieces of bread in the toaster. As if on cue, she ran into the kitchen area, gasping for breath. Kagome had gotten skilled over the years at running the last minute morning marathon, if she admitted so herself. And Inuyasha wouldn’t be caught dead doing anyone favours like some dog in the presence of anyone else. Preparing Kagome a cup of tea with an audience? Fuck no. “Thanks Inuyasha,” Kagome replied as she hastily grabbed one of the pipping toasts that popped up. She nearly dropped it as she didn’t realise how hot it was before she crammed it into her mouth all whilst she messily tied up her long raven hair into a ponytail.

“Morning,” Inuyasha replied nonchalantly, used to her hastiness in the mornings. Kagome chewed the bread she had stuffed into her mouth before asking, still with her mouth full, “You ready for today, Inuyasha?” Inuyasha nodded, pretending not to care one bit about the fact he’d have to come with her to campus. Why in the world did she want him to come with her, anyway? She hadn’t really explained it to him, other than with some vague ‘you need to make other friends than me Inuyasha’ excuse. Something about exposing him to humans? Hadn’t he seen and been mistreated by them enough, anyway? Keh. Why should he even care? His thundering heartbeat and his high blood pressure would say otherwise though, betraying his tough-man actions and replies. Indifferently, the white-haired man got up to leave after he took the remaining gulp out of his tea, which had reached room temperature. He grimaced when the lukewarm liquid made its way down his esophagus. Knowing he shouldn’t leave his mug out, he placed it gently in the sink and sauntered towards the stairs. Kagome observed him exit the room quietly. He’d made so much progress. Heck, he had not only learned to express himself but also started to learn how to conduct himself around others. And how to be a decent human being. He seemed almost human. Too human. That kind of freaked her out. That and she started to suspect every single one of her coworkers and students of being a demon. They’d be peaceful demons like Miroku had said, right? They’d have no other reason to go to school for otherwise, Kagome tried to convince herself. The professor sat at the table to enjoy her remaining few bites of toast and sips of her tea before they got cold. And before her hectic day would start. Maybe she had doubted her abilities to study Inuyasha and help him get rehabilitated. She’d have to thank Sango for all her help and support though, Kagome wasn’t certain how she would have survived these past few months without her best friend. Inuyasha returned a few minutes later, dressed in a plain white T-shirt, a burgundy cardigan and a pair of dark jeans that accented his features well. Well enough that Kagome noticed that her test subject wasn’t just any plain man. He was a very handsome man. “Ya ready to leave now?” he questioned, interrupting her train of thoughts as he took a seat across from her. “Almost. Do you have the bag and notebooks I gave you?” “Yea, they’re both by the door.” “Good. Then we should be about ready to leave then,” she exclaimed as she rose from her chair, also putting her dishes in the sink. They could deal with them when they got home tonight. As she saw him starting to put on his black sneakers, she couldn’t stop thinking about everything they’d accomplished so far as a pair. She’d prepared him as much as she could over the course of a week. She’d trimmed him nails, which no matter the amount of times she cut, remained slightly sharp, which had just resulted in her giving up with their shape. Kagome had gotten them to a relatively normal human size though, which she considered a success. The petite woman had also gotten him a black and red baseball cap to hide his most obvious inhuman feature- his pointy fluffy ears that stood proudly above his head. The final touch of her preparations had been showing him various ways to style his hair. It had taken the man a few times practicing the intricate but gentle hand motions, but he’d gotten the hang of it in no time flat. And with that, the two of them walked towards the university. --- It wasn’t until they reached the campus grounds that they realised that today would not be a regular day.

Something felt off. They made their way towards the main area of the path which joined up with the main entrance of the campus. However, today, it wasn’t filled with students walking frantically in every direction, trying to make it in time for their next class. Police vehicles and a handful of officers filled the entrance by walking around the barricaded area surrounded with yellow do-not-cross tape. Being the curious woman that she was, Kagome approached an officer who she deemed looked nice enough that she could squeeze some information out of. Using the sweetest voice possible, she approached the brown-haired officer adorned with a gentle baby face, “Hum, Officer? My name’s Kagome Higurashi and I’m a professor at the University. Would you mind telling me what’s going on here? I have a class in half an hour, but I’m worried about my students’ safety.” “Oh? You’re a professor? Then maybe I can say a little,” he muttered to himself, under his breath, but still loud enough for both Inuyasha and Kagome to hear, “There’s been an incident. I can’t give you the exact details of it, but we believe it’s related to the earlier incidences of disappearance over the past school year. At the moment however, we don’t suspect that the campus is dangerous as we speak.” Well, that was disappointing, Kagome thought. She’d only got him to spill a bit of the beans, which didn’t satiate her curiosity in the least. “Thank you so much Officer-” she asked, pausing at the end, still trying to be as friendly as possible. “Hojo. Officer Hojo, Miss Higurashi.” Kagome beamed at him and thanked him for his time. Inuyasha wanted to heave. He heard the poor lad’s heart beat rise and his scent spike as soon as she had smiled at him. Sheesh, Kagome was a terrifying woman. It almost felt as if she had everyone wrapped around the tip of her fingers.

The two parted ways with the commotion and started making their way towards their destination, the building where she’d host today’s lecture. She had noticed that the furthest into the campus they went and the thicker the student population became, the closer her companion was walking towards her. He was so close to her that he was practically glued to her back. “Inuyasha? Are you feeling all right?” “Ngh,” was the only sound she received as a reply. Thankfully, they had almost reached the lecture hall and wouldn’t have to walk much further. She felt the urge to reassure him, hug him and try to take the fear away from him. But by this point in her experiment with him, she knew that it would only make him more distant with her. He’d try to run away from her. She’d learned that his emotions were like a big ball of toilet paper shoved down a clogged toilet, and he’d have to open up to her at his own pace. Flushing it would only make it flood, having to clean up the mess, only to be right back where they started. His progress had been slow, but it had also been steady. When they arrived at the lecture hall which had already started getting filled as the class was about to start in the next few minutes, Inuyasha knew that he’d have to separate himself from her. He glanced around nervously for open seats as close to her as possible, just like they had talked about before his time on campus. Thankfully, there were still a few open seats in the front row, but they all had people flanking them on both sides. Inuyasha swallowed loudly as he weaved his way through the row of sitting students to get to an empty spot. He was on edge and Kagome could tell from her place at the podium from his severe expression. Inuyasha tried his best to not touch any of the adjacent students, but that was never something possible in a crammed lecture hall. He accidentally elbowed the female student sitting to his right as he leaned over to place his bag beside him and flinched, bracing himself for the hit he was expecting to receive for having touched someone. She didn’t even look at him. That made no sense. Every instinct in his core had told him to prepare himself against the beating he was about to receive from the humans for his actions.

Yet, nothing happened. The girl simply kept chatting with her friend sitting beside her. Quickly gathering up his nerves, he mumbled, “Sorry,” as he unzipped his bag and removed the green notebook Kagome had purchased for him. He reached in for the bag that contained the pens, pencils and erasers. Pencil case? Was that what she’d called it before? He’d have to ask her tonight about it to double check. His ears under his hat had perked up when the female voice in the microphone started resonating throughout the classroom. As he looked up towards Kagome, the slides she had been working on during the previous evening were projected on the large screens behind her. He’d seen nothing like it before.

“For today’s lecture, we’ll be looking at several therapies that exist for psychological disorders.” --- The class had ended with no disturbances. Inuyasha had patiently waited for her at his seat until the line of students that had gone to talk to her after her class had ended dwindled. Inuyasha had surprised himself by writing bits and pieces of her lecture in his notebook, mostly just to practice his motor skills. Despite his newly developed reading skills, writing still proved to be rather difficult as he just didn’t seem to have the trick to form the various Japanese characters. He’d still get confused about their orders and his hands were still relatively shaky when it came to jotting them down. “Sorry Inuyasha,” she said as she unplugged her computer from the podium projector and stuffed it in her black over the shoulder bag, “Are you ready to go now?” “Yeah, what’s next for the day?” “Would you mind hanging out a bit at the library? I have to fill out a few reports and mark a few assignments in my office before I can leave for the day. I know a few spots that are relatively quiet.” She instructed him on how to get there when he reluctantly agreed to get separated from her in the large campus. Despite him not having a cell-phone though, she knew that he could find her by scent alone since he’d proven capable of doing so time and time again these past months on their various shopping trips and downtown walks. Kagome finally got to her office, sighed when she sank down into her office chair and took a few seconds to recollect herself. Despite her relatively quiet morning, she just felt so drained. The professor knew that she’d only have a few hours to work on what she had to do since Inuyasha was the type of person to get bored fast, especially when not given anything to do. She’d given him a wallet with a bit of cash inside if he’d wanted to go exploring, although she highly doubted that, which was the main reason she’d instructed for him to go to the library though. But hey, who knows, he was a stubborn guy and only listened to her half of the time. The woman bent over and removed her laptop from her bag, opened it up and started working. She hadn’t even been able to tell the amount of time that had elapsed since she last checked it. It wasn’t until she felt a pressure on her shoulder that she snapped back to reality. “Kagome?” the gruff voice asked as he squeezed her left shoulder. She turned to face the source of the voice, the darker toned male with his long black hair tied in his signature pony-tail, “Yes Kouga?” The psychology professor tried her best not to squirm under his unwanted touch. “Have you heard?” She had no idea what he was going on about in the slightest. So, she shook her head in response, the confusion clear on her face from the question he asked her. “About the student. Apparently it’s the third disappearance this year, and all of them are female students. And to make matters worse, they found the remains of the first victim at the spot where the third student presumably disappeared at,” he continued, anger lacing his voice from the disturbing events. Oh. That would explain the police presence this morning. “Do you know if they have any leads?” Kagome asked, inquisitively. “Nah, I’m not sure honestly. I just wanted to warn you, that’s all. They officially deemed the madman doing this a serial killer, so security on campus will get tighter,” the male professor answered, directly gazing into her eyes. “Oh, okay, thanks for letting me know Kouga,” she nervously replied as she felt the man getting closer to her, having grazed her other shoulder with his hand now. His tall frame towered over her petite one, especially since she was sitting down, making her several heads shorter than him. She felt pinned down. As if he was a hungry predator, and she was a cowering prey. She squirmed under the gaze of his icy-blue piercing eyes. She tried her best to keep calm and not let her fear bubble up. No one had ever made her feel that uncomfortable before. Not even Inuyasha when she first met him. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” a booming voice barked from the other side of the room. Kouga’s hands were off of her shoulders in a flash. She had heard a low rumbling sound. Could it be a growl? It was emanating from the professor that was now a few feet away from her as he faced the room’s intruder. “And what in the world do you want, you sad excuse for a mongrel?” Kouga snapped back at the man standing at the doorway. “I should ask you the same thing, you mangy wolf!” the voice boomed as the figure disappeared as quickly as she had seen it appear. There stood Inuyasha, acting as if he was a flesh barrier between her and the other professor. He had his claws extended, his back arched and completely blocking her from view from the wolf demon. A growl erupted from the dog demon’s throat as Kouga lunged at him with all of his force. Inuyasha had no difficulties fighting back, easily deflecting his kicks and strike back with a few claw swipes of his own. “She’s mine you damn fucking dog,” Kouga huffed in between the blows being exchanged. “In your dreams, you scrappy wolf! Kagome can decide that for herself,” he countered as he pushed the wolf demon into another professor’s desk. The crunching sound of the wood snapping echoed throughout the nearly empty room. Dust and papers flew in every direction as the body of the wolf demon made contact with the piece of furniture.

“Inuyasha, stop! That’s enough,” Kagome cried out as she stumbled in his direction trying to avoid the piles of papers, binders and cups that had made their way onto the floor from the rumble.

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