#i know Tallulah has her own struggles and she is trying so hard to feel like it is enough but it just isn't and that isn't her fault | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artificialqueens · 5 years

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intents wicked or charitable (trixya) 5/10 - beanierose

AN: validation station, I am so grateful every day for your never-ending support and guidance. and stutter, this would not exist without you. i don’t have the words to thank you enough.

(read on ao3) | (find me at katiehoughton)

[one.] [two.] [three.] [four.]

a practical magic au for the spooky season. there’s a curse on any man who dares love you? love a woman, instead. | 5,295 words

“Alright. No. Certainly not,” Katya says when she opens the front door. It stops Trixie in her tracks and she opens her mouth to respond, but Katya is already stepping out of her own door.

She grabs for both of Trixie’s hands to pull her into the house. Katya doesn’t like when Trixie tries to lean into the doorway and kiss her cheek hello, won’t ever reach for Trixie across that space. The only time Trixie ever asked she hurriedly explained it away with something about bad luck and house spirits that reside in the threshold.

Dolly barrels her way inside and disappears towards the kitchen in search of water. Katya leaves the dish out for her all the time now, and she always goes to look for it right away.

“What? What’s your problem?”

Katya rakes her eyes up and down Trixie for a second time and clicks her tongue, folds her arms over her chest. “This is untenable. You can’t go like this.”

Before she got in the truck to come over to Katya’s house, Trixie spent almost an hour deciding on her outfit. It’s been the kind of beautiful, crisp day that makes her so glad she doesn’t live in Los Angeles anymore. She walked Dolly in the woods this morning and stomped on the leaves just to hear them crunch beneath her boots. Now that the sun has gone down it’s gotten colder. She’s wearing a new sweater she got from the L.L.Bean Catalog when she realised she doesn’t have any cold weather clothes. It’s a pink chunky knit thing that makes her feel tiny and precious, makes her feel snuggly. She has two thermal layers underneath it, and a white bobble hat, because she doesn’t want to be so miserably cold that she can’t enjoy Katya’s company.

“You don’t think I’m cute?”

Katya sighs and doesn’t even dignify that with a response. She’s wearing black jeans and a black turtleneck and a crimson plaid coat. A small part of Trixie is preoccupied with the thought of fisting both hands in the lapels of that coat and dragging Katya against her, persuading her that this is a really bad idea and they should just stay here instead.

She doesn’t get her chance, because Katya has already disappeared inside of the coat closet to rummage around. She emerges, triumphant, with a grey coat and a scarf that looks very much like she knitted it herself. Trixie takes the coat from her and struggles into it, feels balloon-limbed and lumbering like the Michelin Man.

Katya wraps the scarf around Trixie’s neck for her. Her hair gets trapped underneath and Katya eases it out so gently, her cold fingers brushing the back of Trixie’s neck. She is always so gentle, so mindful of where she’s putting her hands. Nothing is accidental. Trixie lets the breath get stuck in her chest. Katya’s hands are still touching her bare skin, her fingertips tracing tiny circles.

Every day they are working their way towards something and they both know it, but neither of them has been courageous enough to put words to it. For the first time in her life, Trixie is being careful. She wants to treat Katya tenderly, wants to make sure she’s totally okay with each step they take towards the inevitable.

Katya slides her hands down until she’s holding on to both ends of the scarf and she leans in, kisses Trixie’s cheek. She lingers long enough that Trixie can feel the warmth of her and smell her perfume. She doesn’t wear it often, and Trixie likes the idea of Katya putting it on especially for her, wanting to impress. When she steps back she’s blushing, but her chin is set in defiance.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring a coat. Thought you were supposed to be a hick. You should know how to dress for weather, Tallulah.”

“We were too poor for coats.”

Trixie lets more of her accent slip out than she usually does, hits the vowels hard to make Katya scream a laugh. It’s not untrue, but she doesn’t need to get into that right now. Not when Katya is grinning up at her as she pulls on her black galoshes. She looks sleek and streamlined and so good that Trixie can’t stop staring, but they do that now.

It’s been a couple of weeks since she slept in Katya’s bed, and they’ve seen each other almost every single day. They’ve been on hikes with Dolly, carved a pumpkin together for Katya’s porch. Katya helped to fix Trixie’s busted guttering and then insisted on staying all night to make sure the storm didn’t dislodge it again. They sat up in the reading room together, their knees bent and Katya’s slender feet nudged in between Trixie’s larger ones. The rain and the thunder had made the room seem smaller than it really is, and Trixie had ached to hold Katya against her chest instead.

When Katya started yawning Trixie had taken her hand and brought her to bed.

Friends can cuddle up together on the couch. Friends can fall asleep in each other’s arms and make each other breakfast the next morning. Trixie keeps telling herself that, and Kim too. Last week on the phone, Kim had patiently listened to Trixie tell a story about something Katya had done. She has endless anecdotes, is overflowing with them. Sometimes when she gets home from an afternoon at Verbena, Trixie finds herself telling the dog all about her day with Katya as if Dolly has any idea what she’s saying.

At the end of the phone call, Kim had very quietly asked Trixie, when are you going to tell her? She had brushed it off, done her best to distract Kim with questions about her own life, but she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s still circling around and around in her head, restless and unavoidable. Katya is her best friend. Whenever anything happens, any small blip in the steady rhythm of her day, she wants to talk to Katya about it right away. She wants to be near her always, wants to touch her and be touched right back.

“Are you gonna be okay here, milaya devushka?” Katya’s got the dog’s long head cradled in her hands and she’s bent at the waist to love on her, leaving little red kiss prints all over her snout.

“She’ll be fine,” Trixie says. “It’s us I’m worried about. I don’t know if you’re aware, but it’s the one night of the year that it’s acceptable for the townsfolk to literally gather with pitchforks.”

Katya scoffs, and straightens to look at Trixie. This whole night was her idea. She wants it so much that Trixie couldn’t bear to say no to her, even though she has a terrible foreboding feeling in the pit of her stomach. Katya keeps lifting up onto her toes in her galoshes, and she has her hands clasped and held against her chest now. It’s so endearing that Trixie can’t stop smiling at her.

“Is it too ooky spooky for you, Tracy? Are you afraid?” She drops her voice an octave and drawls it, leans in close to Trixie’s face. “I won’t let anybody snatch your soul, Barbara.”

“What if it’s you I’m afraid of? You ghoul. You fucking rotted corpse.”

Katya is spilling over with laughter, choking on it, and she clutches Trixie’s forearm in both hands to keep herself upright. She’s spluttering something about how mean Trixie is and Trixie is grinning so wide, nodding in agreement. When Katya has her breath back she lets go of Trixie and ushers her out the front door. She gives Dolly a last kiss and says something to her very softly in Russian.

“Why are you trying to indoctrinate my dog against me?”

“I only hang out with you so I get to hang out with her,” Katya says.

It makes Trixie laugh in spite of herself. Whenever any of her friends back in Los Angeles were at her place and Dolly showed them affection Trixie would have to fight back waves of ridiculous, juvenile jealousy. With Katya it doesn’t bother her at all. She’s glad that the two most important women in her life like each other so much.

It seems like the entire town is out tonight. It’s a fifteen minute walk from Katya’s house to the field where the bonfire has been set up, and Trixie sees more people than she has the whole time she’s lived here. Katya is at her elbow, chattering away, and Trixie can see her breath in little puffs at her peripheral. She wants so badly to be holding her hand, but that is absolutely out of the question tonight. Anxiety is alive in her stomach, sending gooseflesh down the backs of her thighs.

At the field people are standing in little clusters together, circling the bonfire. It hasn’t been lit for very long so it isn’t roaring quite yet. There are a lot of kids in costumes, and a few teenagers and adults as well, but most people are bundled up warm against the bitter night. Trixie is grateful for her borrowed coat, and grateful for the warmth of Katya right next to her.

Katya spots Betty approaching them before Trixie does. Her face blanches in the orange light of the fire and she takes an awkward step backwards, her shoulders coming forwards and up. “Trixie, Trixie,” she says helplessly.

“What is it? What’ve you seen? You know none of this stuff is real.”

She hears Betty’s voice before Katya can even get her mouth open to answer. Trixie turns around and shifts to the right a tiny bit, shielding Katya as much as she can without making it obvious. Betty isn’t looking at her anyway, she’s staring Trixie down. She’s shorter than Trixie is, but not by much, and spite gives her an extra couple of inches.

“Beatrice, how nice to see you engaging with the community.”

Trixie opens her mouth to respond, but Katya’s hand is fisted in the back of her coat and tugging. Now that she’s a real part of Katya’s life, Trixie knows that she catches the bus two towns over whenever she needs groceries because Betty won’t serve her at the produce market. She doesn’t like confrontation, doesn’t like harsh words. Instead of coming for Betty’s throat, Trixie closes her mouth.

“Be sure to stay away from scary things on Halloween. You know, like ghosts, and zombies, and murderous witches.” Her eyes dart away from Trixie to land on Katya for barely half a second, but it’s enough that Trixie takes an enormous breath and balls her fists.

Behind her, Katya makes a tiny, wounded noise. Trixie feels so fiercely protective of her that for a moment she really considers putting her teeth to Betty’s jugular. Instead, she fumbles blindly behind herself for Katya’s hand and squeezes her fingers when she finds them.

“You’re right. I should stay away from monsters.”

She takes great pleasure in shouldering Betty out of her way, Katya bobbing along at the end of her arm as the two of them move past. Trixie keeps them walking right around the circumference of the fire until they’re at the opposite side and out of Betty’s view.

Katya’s giggling, and it is teetering right on the edge of hysterical, but Trixie tucks both of their clasped hands in her deep pocket and lets her work through it. She doesn’t trust herself to speak just yet. Her tongue still has a flint taste and adrenaline is making her want to put her fist through something.

The bonfire is beginning to generate real heat now. Not as many people are around this side of the fire, because the stalls set up to sell hot cocoa and candy apples are at the other side. It makes Trixie feel safe to keep Katya’s hand in her pocket and stand close to her, duck her head and lean in close to talk.

“Does this happen every year?”

“I haven’t ever been before,” Katya says quietly. Trixie makes an affronted noise, but Katya doesn’t give her the chance to say anything more. “I haven’t had a nine foot tall lesbian to defend my honour, before.”

“Yeah, you still don’t,” Trixie laughs. “I am definitely not going to be defending your honour. You slut.”

Katya rolls her eyes into the back of her head and makes a breathy, high-pitched noise and it’s so overblown, so stupid. It really shouldn’t make Trixie suddenly aware of her hips and her thighs. She shoves on Katya’s shoulder and it breaks her out of her moaning and makes her laugh instead, loud and screeching.

People are beginning to bunch together close to them as more and more of the townsfolk come down to see the fire. Katya takes her hand back from Trixie’s pocket and she lets her, has to, because she can’t call attention to it. Whatever they’re doing, it goes unsaid. Katya puts a foot of careful distance between them. They stand together for a little while listening to the logs crackle and spit, the chatter of the people around them.

Katya is so beautiful in the firelight. The warmth of the bonfire has pinked her cheeks and her eyes are the darkest Trixie has ever seen them, shiny with joy. Thinking of her, able to see the bonfire from her house every year and aching to be here in front of it, is making Trixie’s heart feel too big for her chest. Katya is thrilled by everything, up on her tiptoes again as if to get a better view.

The urge to hold her is so strong that Trixie takes another step backwards, puts a little more distance between them so that she doesn’t reach out and wrap her arms around Katya’s shoulders from behind. She’d do it, here in front of all of these people. Let them look.

“I’m gonna go get us powdered donuts. Stay right here.”

Katya doesn’t give her the chance to protest. She’s already disappearing, weaving her way through the crowds. They part for her, most people taking a stumbling step or two back away from Katya when they see her approaching. She has her head ducked and she’s moving quickly. Trixie watches until she can’t see her anymore, and then a little bit longer after that.

She’s inadvertently put herself closer to one of the groups of people nearby, and now she can hear the snippets of their conversation more clearly. She knows immediately that they’re talking about Katya. It’s all anybody in this whole town seems to want to do.

“Isn’t she at her most powerful tonight?” one of the girls says, a thread of real alarm in her voice. They’re teenagers, Trixie can tell from how young and how incredibly stupid they sound. “Do you think she might hex someone?”

“It’s such a fucking waste, man.” That’s Peter, she’s pretty sure. Trixie breathes raggedly through her nose like a bull. “She’s a hot piece of ass, but that haunted pussy? No way.”

The other boys all jeer and crow with laughter, falling over themselves to be the next person to crack a joke, the next one to have the light of the group’s amusement on them. Trixie is trying not to make it obvious that she’s listening, hasn’t dared allow herself to move even an inch closer, but she hears them clear as if she were standing in the middle of their circle.

“She’d bite your head off like a black widow. Look at what happened to the only person who ever dared to fuck her. I bet she’s all dried up and dusty.”

The girls erupt in a chorus of disgusted ews, hamming it up in the hopes that one of these boys will want to fuck them. Trixie is so glad not to be a teenager anymore. She remembers the paralytic awkwardness, trying to flirt with the least threatening boy she could find but having no idea how. She’s grateful to be a self-assured adult, grateful to have somebody who makes flirting easy because she wants them so bad that she can’t help herself.

“Why can’t she just cast a spell for a new husband or something?” The vocal fry on these girls is making Trixie’s hands ball up into fists without her consent. They’d be irritating if they were talking about anything else. But they’re talking about Katya, and so instead of irritated Trixie is furious.

It is so laughable that they’d sooner believe Katya is a witch than accept they have a queer woman in their midst. Trixie bites the inside of her bottom lip, both to distract herself and to remind her to keep her mouth shut. She tastes iron and has to let up a little bit, probes at the sore spot with the tip of her tongue instead. In her curiosity she has wandered far enough from the bonfire that she’s cold now, and she clutches Katya’s coat tighter around herself.

“Do you think it has teeth?” Another of the boys is saying. “Do you think her husband threw himself in front of a truck because he couldn’t bear to fuck h- oh. Shit.”

Trixie turns to see then, because it sounds like the boy has two hands around his throat and squeezing. There’s six or seven of them standing in a pack, and just behind them is Katya. She’s got a candy apple in each fist, grotesquely shiny and red in the firelight, and her mouth is hanging open.

Peter nudges one of the others, presumably the last boy to speak if the pallor of his face is any indication. “You’re fucked, Jake. She’s gonna curse you now. Your dick’s gonna drop off.”

Trixie’s whole body floods with hot anger. Her temper and her mouth have always gotten her into trouble, since she was in elementary school. When she’s angry, when she’s hurting, her filter comes down and she says things that she regrets later. She almost, almost manages to keep her mouth shut, but Katya’s face is washed out with horror and she can’t bear to let these kids win.

“She doesn’t need to waste her energy making your dick drop off, since you’re never going to have a chance to use it, you gangly unfuckable little parasite.” The others standing around Jake explode in a riot of jesting noises and whoops. She’s not done. “You think anyone, ever is going to want to fuck you? They’re gonna be too distracted by their own reflection in your forehead.”

Katya is so far away, the whole crowd of teenagers between them, but her voice carries. “Trixie. Don’t.”

“You’d be lucky to get your dick bitten off. Do you know how fucking stupid you sound? She won’t fuck any of you so she must be a witch?” Katya flinches, but no one else is looking at her. The eyes of all of the teenagers and several other people are on Trixie. She’s shouting, she knows she is and she can’t seem to stop. “Guess what, dickweed? You can’t accuse every person on earth with the sense not to want to fuck you of witchcraft.”

“Trixie!” Katya says sharply. “Let’s go.”

She skirts the group of teens widely and stomps to Katya’s side, her cheeks pink with confrontation and with being chastised by Katya in front of all of these people. She has to hurry to keep up because Katya has immediately started heading for the edge of the field and she’s taking such long strides.

Once they hit the sidewalk she slows down a little to let Trixie catch up. Her eyes are shifting rapidly but never quite landing on Trixie, and she keeps clearing her throat but not speaking.

“Where’s my donut?” Trixie takes one of the candy apples from Katya, freeing up her hand so Trixie can thread their fingers together instead. She doesn’t care who might see. Back there, she laid herself out a lot more plainly than just holding Katya’s hand.

“Huh? Oh. Right. I, uh…you always criticize my eating habits, so I thought I’d be healthy.”

Trixie snorts and takes a huge bite of the apple. It gets stuck in her teeth immediately and she works her tongue around her mouth. She can feel Katya’s eyes on her so she hams it up to get a laugh. Anything that will distract Katya from hurting seems like a safe bet right now.

They’re mostly quiet on their walk back to Katya’s house. Trixie can’t really talk since every bite of the candy apple is glueing her teeth together. Katya isn’t eating hers, she’s holding it down next to her thigh and it’s getting covered in all of the fluff and detritus from her pants. It’s getting ruined, but Katya hardly seems to be aware of it still in her grip.

Inside, Trixie leaves Katya in the living room and lets Dolly out to use the bathroom, sets the kettle on the burner to start boiling. When Dolly is done she comes back in and heads straight for Katya, ignoring Trixie’s outstretched hand looking to love her. Trixie fixes tea for them both and finds Katya curled up in the corner of the couch with Dolly’s head in her lap, the dog’s body stretched out along the cushion. Her eyes are closed and her face is totally slack.

“Scooch, Doll-Doll.” Trixie sits down at the other end of the couch and the dog jumps down, affronted, and curls at Katya’s feet instead. “I made tea.”

Katya opens her eyes and accepts the mug from Trixie, holds it against her chest. The steam curls up around her and she breathes deep enough to make her bangs flutter against her forehead. After knowing her for a couple of months, Trixie has learned that Katya sometimes needs space to arrange her thoughts, but she does like to talk things out.

They sit in the silence together. Trixie drinks her tea slowly. She unlaces her boots and toes them off, scoots her sock feet closer to the dog so that Dolly can lay her head on them. Katya isn’t really drinking her own tea. Every now and then she seems to remember that she’s holding it and she takes a tiny sip, but she’s mostly just looking at a point a few inches left of Trixie’s shoulder.

When it gets unbearable, when Trixie feels split open and like all of her raw insides are about to come tumbling out, she takes Katya’s mostly full mug from her hands and sets it down on the floor with her own empty one. She clicks her tongue to warn Dolly away from investigating it with her snout.

“Come here, babe.” She holds out her arm and Katya tucks herself underneath it, her bent knees against Trixie’s thigh. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I hate it when you’re right. We shouldn’t have gone. We should have stayed home and watched a movie.”

Trixie’s hand is at Katya’s shoulder and she can feel the lift and collapse of her torso as she breathes. There’s so much she wants to do. She would like to kiss the crown of Katya’s head, or bring her all the way into her lap.

“Always being right is my cross to bear. But. I don’t think either of us could have anticipated that that would happen.”

“It doesn’t- I don’t want-” Katya’s voice is so small. Another wave of cold fury washes through Trixie. She knows that it’s bad, she learned that the very first day she knew Katya, but seeing it actually shake her for the first time is a different thing altogether.

“Just ask me.”

“What they said. It’s not going to change your opinion of me, right?”

Trixie closes her eyes and hides her face against the top of Katya’s head for a moment. Just to give herself the space to work through that grief. “No, babe. The only thing it changes is that it makes me think you’re even more brave and amazing than I already did.”

“Your sincerity is freaking me out,” Katya mutters.

It makes both of them laugh a little. On the floor, Dolly rolls onto her back and Trixie pets at her with her sock feet, rubbing them against the dog’s chest. “Sorry. I won’t be sincere ever again.”

“The thing is.” Katya flutters her hands uselessly in the air around herself. Trixie can’t see her very well, mostly just getting the crown of her head, but she can hear it in her voice. Her scrunched up nose and the hot, insistent press of tears. “It’s not like I don’t know. The people in this town don’t like me.”

Trixie still has her arm around Katya’s shoulders. She likes the warm weight of her head against her chest and the smell of her shampoo, but she really wishes she could see her face for this next part. Holding her like this, standing beside her tonight, all of it has made her want Katya so badly that she can’t stop it anymore. She is hopelessly buffeted by endless waves of need, keeps managing to get her face above water for just a second to take a gasping breath.

“Well I like you. A lot.”

“Oh, Trixie, I like you so much.” Katya straightens up, leaves a hand at Trixie’s thigh. Her cheeks are silvery and salt-raw, the tip of her nose pink. “I like you so, so much.”

The lamp beside the couch is throwing their two shadows up against the wall, every quiver mimicked and magnified. Trixie reaches for her before she knows she’s doing it. Her graceless hands land either side of Katya’s neck, thumbs at the hinge of her jaw. Her lips are parted and she’s staring at Trixie’s mouth.

All of Trixie’s insides feel pulled up towards her heart by a tight string. She’s certain that if she checked, she would have a puckered line right down her sternum. Katya is so still, not breathing, and her skin is warm.

“Is this okay?”

“I’m scared,” Katya murmurs without moving her mouth at all. She’s trembling in Trixie’s hands.

Trixie nods, and tries to swallow down her suddenly dry mouth. “Yeah. I’m scared too. Still, though.”

She leans in and kisses her before either of them can change their mind. Trixie keeps things slow and exploratory, focuses on the hot little puffs of Katya’s breaths against her cheek and the woodsmoke smell of her hair. Her lips are so soft and she kisses Trixie right back, her hand at Trixie’s thigh clutching tighter now. Time stretches out hot and elastic; Trixie kisses her, kisses her, kisses her.

When they break apart Trixie leans her forehead against Katya’s. She would like to kiss her again but they’re grinning too widely, both of them. Katya’s free hand slides into Trixie’s hair and she scratches her short nails over Trixie’s scalp, makes a shiver ripple through her.

“I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time,” Trixie whispers.

It makes Katya laugh wildly and rear back to look at Trixie. Her lipstick is smudged, probably smeared across Trixie’s face as well. She likes that thought a lot. Katya stops laughing and draws her legs up beneath herself on the couch so she can loom over Trixie.

“I know you have. You’ve never been subtle, Trixie. You told me you’re a bottom after I’d known you three days.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Trixie groans, and falls forwards to hide her face against Katya’s chest. Katya’s laughing; it’s shaking her beneath Trixie. Her hand comes up to the back of Trixie’s head, her thumb tracing the shell of Trixie’s ear.

Now that they’ve started, Trixie doesn’t want to stop kissing Katya. Maybe ever. She straightens up and captures Katya’s face in her palms, cradles her head as she kisses her long and slow and deep. Katya slides her knee over Trixie’s thighs and sinks down, lays the heel of her palm right over Trixie’s heart with her fingers against her clavicle.

Katya pulls back a bit, so that she can look at Trixie. She’s so cute like this, rumpled and blushing. Trixie steals another tiny kiss from her and feels Katya’s smile bloom against her mouth. The warm weight of her in Trixie’s lap is distracting, but she looks like she wants to say something so Trixie lets her hands rest at Katya’s thighs and gives her the space to collect herself.

“Trixie. This isn’t like…a pity thing? I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

“I wanted you the second I first saw you.” Trixie doesn’t think about what she’s saying, the implications of that. It’s true, and she’s tired of skirting around the edge of what she means. “I haven’t stopped wanting you since. So no, it’s not a pity thing. You think I have enough compassion in my heart for that?”

Katya lets out a soft little huff of laughter. Her thumb is at Trixie’s bottom lip and she pulls down experimentally for just a second before she lets it spring back into place. Trixie turns her head to kiss the inside of Katya’s wrist and she lets herself linger, finally, feeling the jump of Katya’s pulse.

Dolly has gotten caught up in the excitement and she nudges Katya’s hip with her snout, her tail up in the air and swooshing back and forth. Katya reaches behind herself with her free hand to pat blindly at the dog’s head, but she doesn’t break Trixie’s gaze.

“I know all about the compassion you have in your heart, honey. You just don’t like to show it towards straight people.”

Trixie kisses her, half to wipe the teasing smirk right off her face and half because she can’t believe she’s actually allowed to now. This time Katya deepens things, and Trixie opens to the hesitant press of Katya’s tongue at the seam of her lips. Everything is slick and hot and lovely, and Trixie clutches tight at Katya’s hips.

When Katya breaks the kiss again Trixie whines low in her throat. It doesn’t occur to her to be embarrassed by it. She’s already told Katya how much she wants her. She’s been telling her for weeks, if she’s honest with herself.

“And, Trixie. Trixie. When you say that you…want me.” Trixie presses her thumbs into the creases at the tops of Katya’s thighs and she gasps, rocks her hips down sharply. “Does that mean just sex, or?”

“Do you think I usually spend weeks and weeks getting to know people that I just want to fuck?” Trixie slides her hands around to Katya’s ass and hauls her in close until their chests are flush. “You’re- oh my God, this is so embarrassing. You’re my best friend.”

Katya’s whole face breaks open and light comes spilling out. She cradles Trixie’s face between her palms and holds her in place as she kisses her. Dolly has given up trying to steal attention and skulked off to lie beside the unlit fireplace and eye them. They kiss for a long time, until Trixie’s fingertips start to go numb from oxygen deprivation.

“You’re my best friend too, Trixie.”

Trixie can’t stop smiling, her face is all scrunched up and goofy with it. It feels like the floor has righted itself after being just a little bit crooked the entire time she’s known Katya. She kisses her again, hands threaded into Katya’s hair so that she can feel the thrum of her pulse at the base of her skull. “Are you still scared?”

“Spookiest night of the year, mama.”

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #magical realism #tenderness #isolation #slow burn kind of #iwoc #beanierose #lesbian au

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