#au: goat man dancing on your bridge | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluesylveon2 · 3 years

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My My, I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn't know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

A/N: I’m alive! I would insert a sob story, but I’ll spare you the details. I RECOMMEND looking up Mamma Mia Dancing Queen by Movieclips on Youtube to get a feel of the end (look for the ******). Enjoy!

Need to catch up? Catch up here!

Ch 5: Dancing Queen

Rico and Nanaba were out drinking again at a nearby bar while Hange was away. Hange mentioned how she had to grab some things from her goat house, so Rico and Nanaba took it upon themselves to drink some more and talk to the locals.

Rico looked up at the bartender in front of her. She recognized him as one of the men who had helped her and Nanaba earlier. This man was way taller than her, and definitely over 6 feet. He had long, light ash-brown hair styled in a mullet, and he had small, intense golden-brown eyes. It almost gave him a vicious look. This time the man was shirtless and only wore swim trunks. It's a good thing wearing swimwear on/underneath clothing was considered normal on the island.

“Here you go, one cocktail for a beautiful woman like you.” he slides the drink over to Rico and gives her a wink. Rico grabbed the drink and gave the man a flirty smile. Definitely not vicious. He seemed like a nice and flirty guy to her.

Maybe husband number 4? Rico smirks as she drinks her cocktail. Don’t get Rico wrong now. She knows what is out of line when it comes to choosing her future husband. However, a little bit of flirting won’t hurt.

“Thank you…” Rico trailed off. Shoot. She never got the guy’s name.

Jean grabs a wet rag and starts cleaning off the bar “Jean. I’m also one of Sasha’s friends.”

“Ah, I heard of you!” Nanaba yells out suddenly. She looks at Jean with excitement. Nanaba loves learning about the bits and pieces of Sasha’s life. After all, it’s been years since she has last seen her. “Sasha has talked a lot about you! You’re Niccolo’s best man, right? Have you been on the island this whole time?”

Jean nodded “Yes and no. Yes, I am Niccolo’s best man. No, I haven’t stayed on the island the whole time. I actually came back a few months ago to prepare for the wedding. I’ve been busy with college studying for art before coming back. I'm currently staying at the old house that I share with my friend, Marco.”

Jean is a Fine Arts major at the Paris College of Art. He agreed to study in France because of his mom. You see, Jean originally lived in France before moving to Kalokairi to be more independent. He was from Strasbourg, which is about 500 km away from Paris. It’s a long drive, but it is worth it for him to see his mom’s smile every time he visits. Jean also works part-time in the bar in Kalokairi to help pay for his expenses. Jean is lucky his old boss let him work again, or else he would be doomed.

Jean reminisced when he first came back to Kalokairi. He was excited to see Sasha again and for the wedding. Jean views Sasha as a sister he wishes he had, and he was genuinely happy to be a part of her wedding.

Jean smiled at the memory. He was strolling through the island, greeting the locals and familiar faces. In fact, Jean was too busy reminiscing to even hear the sound of running footsteps heading towards him from behind. It was then when Jean’s peace was ruined by Hanami jumping on his back. She loudly proclaims her excitement for them working together for Sasha’s wedding (she is Maid of Honor, and he is the Best Man).

Jean sighed as he finished wiping off the bar. That woman is gonna be the death of him one day.

Nanaba looked up to find Rico studying Jean, who was lost in thought. Oh no. Here comes Husband number 4 already.

She rolls her eyes and looks at Rico's drink. It had a peachy color, decorated with an orange wedge on the rim and a mini umbrella. It looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t put a name to it. The orange slice meant it’s definitely fruity. Ironically enough, Nanaba is not a big fan of fruity drinks. She likes a fruity smell in her perfume though. Nanaba prefers drinking beer or hard alcohol like whiskey.

Nanaba grabs Rico's attention. “Hey Rico, what kind of drink did you get?” She proceeds to drink her beer.

“Sex on the beach,” Rico replies nonchalantly. This causes Nanaba to almost choke on her drink. She began to have a coughing fit.

Rico repeatedly slaps Nanaba’s back until she stops coughing. “Did I say something wrong, Nana? Why did you start coughing?” Rico raised an eyebrow.

Jean, noticing Nanaba’s coughing fit, stops making drinks for other customers, to give Nanaba a napkin. She thanks him, and Jean nods and returns back to his job.

Nanaba wipes her mouth and turns to Rico. “Are you trying to imply something by ordering that specific drink with him? You're staring is not exactly subtle, you know." She quickly darts her eyes to Jean, who was busy doing his job and not eavesdropping on their conversation.

Rico laughs and takes a sip of her drink. “Take your mind out of the gutter, Nana.” Rico smirks “I just wanted to order a drink. That’s all. Unless...maybe I am?" She winks at Nanaba and laughs.

Nanaba rolls her eyes and smiles at Rico. She wasn’t surprised that Rico took the opportunity to mess with her. Nanaba looks over to Jean to make sure he is busy. She places a hand on Rico’s shoulder and looks at her with a serious face.

“Don’t mess with the poor boy, Rico. You’re old enough to be his grandmother,” she says with the most serious tone she could come up with. She takes her hand away and takes another sip of her beer. Rico lightly slaps Nanaba’s shoulder in fake offense and laughs again. Of course, Nanaba would point that out. Rico was ready to make a comeback but stopped as she heard running heading in her direction.

Both women turn around from their seats to see an exhausted and frightened Hange run up to them. Hange’s hair was messier than normal, and her glasses were slightly crooked. One of the straps of Hange’s overalls came loose too. She looked as if she ran a marathon or was practicing for the Olympics.

“Where’s Sasha?” Hange asks as if her life depended on it.

Jean, who noticed Hange's appearance, answers for Rico and Nanaba. “I think she’s at the beach with the other girls.” He goes back to his job but doesn't question Hange’s looks. He doesn't want to die before the wedding.

“What’s up?” Nanaba asks tenderly and reaches up to fix Hange’s glasses. Now that Hange was up close, she noticed how red her eyes were and the tears that were ready to spill.

Hange was overwhelmed with emotions. She has to juggle running the hotel, Sasha’s wedding, and now deal with her past lovers! This was not how she wanted Sasha’s wedding to go. She couldn’t bear the idea of having both sides meet. What would the men think? Heck, what would Sasha think? Hange has been vague about Sasha’s father for years now. Would Sasha hate her for keeping them a secret? She doesn’t even know who Sasha’s actual father is!

Hange felt her dam begin to burst and some snot running down her nose. Hange ignored Nanaba’s question and ran off to the nearest bathroom. She ignores Nanaba and Rico calling out to her. Hange ran into the nearest open stall, closed the door and the toilet seat, and sat down to cry. She didn’t want the whole island to see her at the moment, so crying in the bathroom was the best thing to do. Hange grabs a part of her overalls to blow her nose.

Meanwhile, Nanaba and Rico (who brought her purse and her drink) followed Hange to the bathroom and called out her name. Sadly, there was no reply. She only heard the soft cries coming from the nearest stall. Nanaba runs to the front of the door. Rico closes the bathroom door and sets her stuff down before joining her.

Nanaba knocks on the door and turns to Rico with a worried look on her face. There was no response again except for Hange blowing her nose.

“Talk to her,” Rico whispers to Nanaba. Nanaba nods her head and turns back to the door. She leans towards it and takes a deep breath.

“Hans.'' She starts with Hange’s nickname from college. Nanaba spoke to Hange with a tender and caring tone. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Nanaba places her ear against the door and waits to hear anything from Hange. She only hears soft whimpers instead. This caused Nanaba to frown. She turns to Rico and moves her hand in a hurry-up motion. She already put some effort into this. Now it's Rico’s turn.

“Oh, right! Uhh…” Rico was unsure about what to do. She hasn’t seen Hange cry like that in years. The last time Rico heard Hange cry like that was after Levi left, and it was over the phone too! She glances at Nanaba who kept encouraging her to go.

Rico was unsure about what to say. She’s not the best at comforting people, but she will at least try. For Hange. “I’ve never seen you with so much sorrow, Hans."

Nanaba turns to Rico in realization and grabs her shoulders "and the wedding is tomorrow!"

"We have to see Hange!" She whispers to Rico.

Rico nods in agreement and takes Nanaba’s hands off of her. "Good plan. You go on all fours on the floor, and I'll stand on your back. You look from the bottom, and I'll look from the top."

Nanaba looked at Rico with disbelief "Are you crazy? It's logical for me to be on the top. I'm the tallest!"

Rico pinched the bridge of her nose, causing her glasses to move up slightly. She sighed while Hange’s crying continued in the background.

"Now is not the time to be comparing heights, Nanaba. Hange is not emotionally stable right now, and she needs us to help. Besides, it's logical for you to be on the bottom. You're heavier than me."

Nanaba wanted to punch Rico for playing the weight card, but she did have a point. She also knows about Rico’s cleaning standards (which aren’t as high as Levi’s, but only Hange knows that), so she won’t go down on the floor unless she has to.

Nanaba sighed. Now was the time for arguing. They needed to focus on Hange and can deal with Rico later.

"Fine." Nanaba moved to go on all fours on the floor. She tilted her head towards her back "Hop on."

Meanwhile, Hange continued to cry into her palms. She was too depressed to even hear what was going on the other side of the door. The memories with all three men kept replaying in her mind nonstop. Hange can recall cuddling on the beach with Erwin. She can picture dancing with Mike underneath the night sky on his yacht. She also remembers the time when Levi kissed her forehead when she pretended she was sleeping one day. Hange continued to cry but stops when she hears a thump on the door.

Hange looks up to find Rico staring down at her and holding on to the door. Now Hange was confused. Rico is too short to look over from the top. Unless…

She let her eyes fall downward to find Nanaba looking at her from the bottom. Both she and Rico had a concerned look on their faces.

"I hate to see you like-” Rico gestures to Hange “-this."

Hange looks up at Rico as she continues on. Hange felt ridiculous. Here she was crying over 3 men on the toilet. She knew she looked like a mess. She needs to get up from the toilet first in case her friends suddenly burst into song.

Nanaba adds onto Rico’s statement, "Hans, you can't deny that you're sad. It's just...We haven't seen you this sad since- ahh!" She and Rico scream as Hange suddenly opens the door.

Hange runs out to the bathroom door and to the nearest sink. Nanaba and Rico quickly stood up and went to either one of Hange’s sides. Rico and Nanaba patted Hange's back to comfort her. They didn't want to force Hange to talk. She can talk when she is ready.

Hange looks at herself in the mirror. She looks and feels like shit. Ironically, it made her think about Levi. What was that nickname Levi would call her besides Four Eyes? Shitty Glasses. Hange looked at herself in the mirror. Now her whole face played the part too. It almost made Hange laugh. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she could see some snot dripping down her nose. Hange wipes it off with a tissue Rico put out in front of her. Hange’s clothes looked disheveled too. She couldn't recognize herself in the mirror.

Nanaba leaned her head on Hange’s shoulder. Hange smiled and put her right hand on Nanaba’s cheek as thanks. Rico leaned on Hange’s other shoulder, and Hange placed her head on top of Rico's.

"You're our best friend, Hange," Nanaba says softly. She uses Hange’s actual name instead of her nickname. That's how Hange knew Nanaba was being serious.

"You can rely on us" Rico replies next with a soft tone as well.

Hange begins to cry again. What did she do to deserve friends like them? They saw Hange rise and fall in life, yet they stayed by her side no matter what.

Nanaba and Rico, who noticed Hange’s waterworks appearing again, turns Hange away from the mirror. They push her up to sit on the sink. Nanaba and Rico sat down on the sink next to Hange after she was situated.

Rico speaks up first after a moment of silence "You’re usually so sure of yourself Hange. Now, look at you. You look so broken." She looks at Hange with concern. "Just know that it's ok to cry. You’ll be up and dancing again once your pain ends" She rubs Hange’s arm and Hange smiles at the gesture.

Nanaba leans towards Hange to fix her overalls, and Hange turns to look at her. "I hope we can patch up whatever is going on, Hange. We just want to see you happy again." Hange smiles at Nanaba’s words.

"That's it!" Rico suddenly says "you just need a little pick me up. That would help cheer you up!" Rico turns to Nanaba. "Help me out her Nanaba."

Both women jump down from the sink. Rico goes to her purse, which was nearby. Nanaba takes off Hange’s glasses and stands ready for whatever Rico has in store.

First, Rico hands Nanaba some tissues to wipe Hange’s tears and snot. Nanaba wipes Hange’s nose until Rico starts throwing one too many tissues at Hange.

Second, Rico grabs a breath spray freshener. Nanaba opens her mouth for Hange to mimic as she takes off the cap. Nanaba sprays it one time, but Hange starts coughing from the spray entering her throat.

Third, Rico grabs some perfume and hands it to Nanaba. Hange was expecting a few sprits of perfume not bathing in the whole bottle! Hange sneezes because of the perfume. Maybe she would smell good enough to be up to Levi’s standards? Hange rolls her eyes at the thought.

Finally, Rico grabs her cocktail for Hange to drink. Nanaba works to redo Hange’s ponytail. Hange reaches over to grab the drink, but Rico moves it out of her reach. Rico places the drink on Hange’s lips and tilts the glass up to a point Hange might as well chug the whole thing. Hange moves her hands up and takes the drink away from her mouth.

"OK! I appreciate the help, you guys!" Hange cries out. She sniffs and wipes her nose with her arm. She might as well confess and get straight to the point

"It's her dad," Hange confesses.

Nanaba and Rico were confused. "Who's dad?" Rico asks.

Hange looks at Rico with a serious face. "Sasha’s dad" she clarifies

Hange stares at her friend’s faces but was met with silence. She decided to continue with her story.

"Remember how I told you it's Levi, the supposed mystery guy who is actually a millionaire? The man who left to get married."

Nanaba and Rico nodded to show they are following Hange’s story.

"Well, there were two other guys. Around the same time. You already met one of them before."

Hange looks up at Nanaba. Although Nanaba was looking at the floor, Hange could see the gears turning in her head and the puzzle pieces fitting together. Nanaba realized who she was talking about and how he and Hange did more than just ‘go on nightly boat rides.’

"The man who accidentally ran into you that day...the boat rides...” She looks up to meet Hange’s eyes. “One of them is Mike. Isn't it?"

Hange nods and looks away in shame. She didn't want to see Nanaba’s reaction. Hange suspected Nanaba had a crush on the guy, but she noticed it too late. Hange’s mind was clouded by her summer romance to even notice Nanaba’s longing stares at Mike. Hange still feels guilty and selfish about it to this day.

Rico placed her hand on Hange’s cheek so she can face her. "Why didn't you tell us?"

“Well, I never knew I would ever have to really! I don't even know who Sasha’s actual father is!” Hange confesses.

Nanaba placed her hand on Hange’s shoulders for support. Hange didn't see any hatred in Nanaba’s eyes after confessing about sleeping with Mike. Bless Nanaba’s heart. “Well, we already know Levi and Mike. Who’s the third guy?”

Hange takes a sip of her drink before responding, “A man named Erwin Smith. I don’t think any of you know him. He left Kalokairi before you guys arrived.”

Nanaba takes her hand off of Hange’s shoulder and shakes her head “The name does not ring any bells.”

Hange looks at Rico expecting the same reaction as Nanaba. What she did not expect was Rico’s mouth wide open in shock.

“Erwin Smith. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a face that looks like he starred in a movie? That Erwin Smith?” Rico asks as if she was in a trance

Hange looked at Rico with surprise. “Yes?”

Suddenly, Rico broke out of her trance and jumped with excitement. Hange and Nanaba looked at her confused.

“I’ll take that you know Erwin Smith?” Nanaba asks after Rico calmed down a bit

“Of course! Who doesn’t know who he is?” Rico said

“Apparently me,” Nanaba mumbles to herself, but Rico hears her anyway.

Rico sighs after calming down a bit. She takes out her phone and googles Erwin’s name. She pulls up the first image of him and shoves her phone to her friend’s face.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Nanaba. Erwin was on the cover of People’s: Sexiest Men Alive a few years ago and was in the Top 10 of the Most Handsome Faces in TC Chandler!”

Rico looks at Hange and Nanaba’s faces. She was expecting an exciting reaction but was met with her best friends just staring at her.

Rico continues instead “His dad was a successful university professor and is known for his contributions in research and activism. Erwin is similar to him, except he is a lawyer. Overall, Erwin is a very influential person in New York, and he has a good looking face”

Rico turns off her phone and pockets it away, and turns to Hange. “Hange, you’re a lucky gal to have slept with him. I gotta say that I’m impressed. You gotta introduce me to him sometime.”

Nanaba rolled her eyes. Hange couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I knew he was a lawyer, but not all of that!” she waves her hands around to emphasize it. She ignored Rico’s suggestion for now.

Rico gave Hange a sympathized smile “Well, you’ve been so focused and dedicated to your hotel and Sasha. I’m not surprised you don’t pay much attention to everything outside of Kalokairi or even Greece.”

Meanwhile, in Nanaba’s head, she was trying to fit all of the puzzle pieces together. She didn’t see any of the men when she and Rico first arrived on the island, nor did she see them while heading to the hotel.

So that means they arrived after us, Nanaba thought. The question is, where are they now?

“Hange” Nanaba interrupts Rico and Hange’s conversation. Rico had asked Hange who she thought was the best out of the three she slept with. Nanaba could tell who she picked based on Hange’s small yet goofy and Rico’s 'are you serious?' face. “Where are the men now?” she asks carefully.

Hange’s face became horrified. She last saw them in the old goat house, but what if Sasha came back from the beach? How would she react?

“The old goat house,” Hange says. She looks at both of her friend’s faces “We can’t let them meet Sasha!”

Nanaba and Rico quickly grab their things as Hange puts the drink down and jumps off the sink. The three ran off towards the goat house, but not too fast to avoid any suspicion from any onlookers.

Meanwhile, Sasha and her friends peeked up from their hiding spots to find Rico and Nanaba entering the barn. They went back into hiding as soon as Hange entered.

“Don’t let them hear you!” Hange whispers as Rico and Nanaba climb up the steps to the attic.

Nanaba opened the hatch and looks inside first. Rico and Hange followed after only to find nothing.

“There’s no one here,” Nanaba says in shock.

Rico turns to Hange. “Are you sure?” she asks questioningly.

Hange rolls her eyes. “Of course, I'm sure! Do you think I would forget my daughter’s dads?”

She sighs. “They were all here. Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, and Mike Zacharias.”

Sasha takes a quick peek from her hiding spot with Mikasa to find her mom walking down the steps from the attic. Nanaba and Rico followed behind her.

“They must have gone on Mike’s boat,” Hange says as she walks out of the barn. “I hope they hit aground and drown.”

Hange enters the hotel and goes up the stairs to go to her bedroom. “What are they even doing here? It’s like fate just hates me today,” she says and throws her hands up in the air.

“Do they know about Sasha?” Nanaba asks as she runs up the steps.

“What are they, psychic?. Of course not! I never told a soul.” Hange turns to face Nanaba before heading into her room.

“Not even Pieck?” Nanaba asks and puts her purse down.

“I never told her too,” Hange says as she paces around near her bed.

“Oh Hange, you kept this to yourself all these years,” Rico says sympathetically and puts her stuff down.

Hange stops pacing and heads to her balcony door. “It doesn’t matter to me.” She closes the door. “The only thing that matters is that Sasha does not find out.”

Rico puts her hands on her hips and watches Hange walk around the room. “Maybe she might be cool with it?” she suggests.

Hange walks up to her bedroom door and closes it. “Cool with it,” she repeats. When would Sasha ever be cool with something like that? She might react the same way Hange reacted to Eren and Connie accidentally breaking her vase from Ms. Alexandra. It was not a pretty sight.

Hange chuckles nervously and walks over to her friends. “You don’t know Sasha as I do. This would be like a bombshell.

“But Hange, they’re gone!” Nanaba argues

“I don’t know that! They could be anywhere for all I know!” Hange runs her hands through her ponytail and moves to sit in front of her vanity.

She looks at herself in the mirror “I did this all to myself because I was stupid and reckless little slut.” she says and glares at her reflection.

Rico and Nanaba both gasped. “A slut?” Rico questioned. “You sound like your mother, right Nanaba?” Nanaba nods and laughs

Hange quickly turns around “I do not!” she says offensively.

“Yes, you do,” Nanaba says as Rico laughs this time.

Rico walks over to Hange’s stuff and grabs a feather boa and a ridiculous-looking hat. She then turns to Nanaba and gives her a familiar look that only Nanaba could understand. Nanaba caught on to Rico’s message and took her phone out of her pocket.

“Whatever happened to our Hange? The life and soul of the party.” Rico says dramatically. She puts the hat on top of Hange’s head and the boa around her neck.

“Yeah, the one who would talk your ears off about her research but can convince you to do a random musical number in the middle of campus? I’m astonished by how many men agreed to join." Nanaba adds as she was scrolling through her phone.

"Exactly, Nanaba! I remember how our Hange would attract so many guys with that back in New College." Rico laughs at the memories of different men walking up to Hange as she studied. Hange was too engrossed in her research to give most of them the time of day!

******

Hange could tell what Rico was trying to do. "Well, I grew up." She says as she recalls how much she has changed since.

Nanaba nudges Rico and steps away from her to give them some space. Rico smiles. "Well, you need to grow back down again Hange."

Rico jumps in her spot to face Nanaba and points to her. "Hit it, Nanaba!"

Nanaba presses play on her music app and pocket her phone away to where Hange could still hear the music. The familiar tune of “Dancing Queen” fills the room.

Hange watches her friends as they move their arms in a goofy manner, shook their hips, and sang their hearts out to the song. At one point, Nanaba and Rico faced one another and they sang to each other before directing their attention to Hange so she could sing along.

Hange squealed when her friends poked her sides. She ran to her bed and laid face down to avoid them. She moved her head up slightly to peek at her friends from her spot behind her blanket. Instead, she found her room empty, but the music continued to play.

Hange watched Rico and Nanaba rise up from the floor, go back down, and repeat the process a few times as they sang. The two eventually moved around Hange’s room and used multiple objects as props for their performance. In Hange’s opinion, Nanaba and Rico’s singing and dancing looked pretty ridiculous, but she knew they meant well. "Dancing Queen" is one of Hange’s favorite songs, and people at New College witness Hange dancing at parties. She was known as the Dancing Queen back in her college days. She wasn’t the best dancer, but anyone could tell she was having fun with one glance.

Hange started tapping her foot to the beat as she continued laying on the bed. She started reminiscing about her college days when she would go out and have fun, all while learning about biology. She remembered how she and her friends would let loose and just live life to the fullest. Hange wanted to explore and discover new parts of the world. It was one reason why she left for Kalokairi on her own all those years ago.

Hange sat up and pulled the blanket towards her. She watched as her friends go through her drawers to grab random articles of clothing to put on. Rico put on a puffy dress over her clothes, and Nanaba grabbed a random shirt and tied it around her head. Hange felt her mood change, and now she wanted to join in on the fun.

She sets the blanket aside and jumps during the song’s refrain. Hange felt as if she was the star of the show, her bed was the stage, and her friends were her audience. Hange felt alive! She felt like she was 22 again performing onstage with her friends. Hange even did a split in the air! Hange continued dancing on her bed before she had an idea. She grabbed her forgotten boa and ran out of her room.

“Where are you going?” Rico calls out while laughing.

Hange was running down the steps of the hotel, stops, and turns around to Rico. “I feel like singing today. Might as well do a musical number just like old times.” She winks and laughs as she continues running down the stairs.

Rico and Nanaba look at each other with glee before following Hange. They got their Hange back!

Hange, Nanaba, and Rico jumped around in sync as they passed the courtyard. The locals who watched nearby laughed. It looks like the trio was back at it again.

You see, before Hange had met Mike, Hange and her friends did a few performances in Kalokairi to help Hange deal with her heartbreak. Occasionally, Hange would invite the locals to perform with her, and the island would break out into a big musical (which never happened until Hange and her friends came along). The island was quiet after Hange had met Mike and her best friends left. Ever since Sasha’s birth, the locals would often find Hange singing those old songs to herself as she strolled around with her daughter. It was a sign to them that the Hange they met was still there, just dormant for now.

Hange stopped dancing once she reached a group of locals sitting around a table playing a board game. She places her boa behind one of the elderly men and lets the boa slide across his shoulders, much to his shock. The Hange he usually saw was too busy with her hotel to start dancing around for fun. Hange then places the boa across her back and on her elbows as she sang.

Meanwhile, Nanaba and Rico were out recruiting some locals to join them. It’s a good thing they were familiar with Hange and her group, or else the whole interaction would have been really awkward.

The group marched across the hotel grounds as the music continued to play good Nanaba’s phone. Hange skipped past the entrance with everyone following her. Nanaba and Rico would occasionally leave to gather more people to join as she led the group through town. Other locals were drawn to Hange’s group after seeing her singing and dancing again. Everyone singing along helped amplify the song, and everyone was in sync.

Hange was having so much fun and was having the time of her life. She skipped and sang as leads the group through different parts of the island. It felt like old times when she used to perform with her friends. Now here she was singing "Dancing Queen" with practically the whole island!

Hange started heading towards one of the piers. At this point, the group had doubled in size. A local piano player and an electric guitar player accompanied the song from their boats. The group stopped moving on the pier and continued dancing and singing to the beat. Everyone followed Hange, Nanaba, and Rico’s lead.

As the final parts of the song started to end, everyone who joined started to face Hange. They wanted her to end the song with a bang. Hange took her hair tie out of her hair and let her hair loose. She whipped her hair back and forth a bit and laughed cheerfully.

Hange came up with a good idea to end her little musical number. She looked to her left as everyone sang the final note to see Rico, who was the closest to her. Hange suddenly ran up to Rico and pushed her into the water. She then turned to Nanaba with mischievous eyes.

"Oh no, you don't!" Nanaba laughs as she attempts to run away from Hange. Nanaba didn't get far before Hange pushed her into the water too. Hange jumped in after her. Thank goodness for the invention of water-resistant cell phones. Everyone else jumped into the water after Hange.

Hange felt much better now than an hour ago. As she trod on the water, she couldn't help but think of her memories with the three men. She has happy memories with Erwin and Mike. She wishes she could say the same for Levi though. Hange felt pain thinking about him although she spent the most time with him. He was the one who broke her heart the most. Yet, swimming in the water reminded her of one time when she took off Levi’s clothes and pushed him off a pier and into the water. Hange's plan backfired when Levi grabbed her wrist to drag her with him. The goofy smile returned for just a slight moment, but it was long enough for Nanaba and Rico to catch.

Nanaba and Rico glanced at each other while treading on the water. Their plan worked for the most part. However, Hange Zoe still had some lingering feelings for Levi Ackerman.

Author’s Note:

The “Dancing Queen” scene was the hardest to write for me. I hope you like it and understand what is going on.

I apologize if any character is OOC and I know I portray Greece inaccurately.

I changed the character’s ages based on the school year in Greece (Sept 11 - June 15). Everyone is 20-21 and Armin is the oldest. Sasha’s bday changed to May.

I appreciate ANY feedback (especially after this chapter). I hope you have a good day, and everyone affected by today’s earthquake is safe.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction #nicosasha #erwin x hange #mike x hange #mikenana #aruani #hitch x marlow #marco x mina #pokkopikku #snk #aot

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gheysnakeredacted · 3 years

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Young Tommy (maybe ten or eleven?) in the dadschlatt au tells Wilbur, Techno and Phil about his nightmares about the Goat Man (but not the nightmare creeper) and they take him to Goat Man's bridge and Shane Madej it up "I'M DANCING ON YOUR BRIGDE GOAT MAN" because they want him to not be scared of him. It doesn't work but Tommy filmed it and has it as blackmail/j

THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNN YAOFUEJIOAFJAWI but wow, real familly dynamic is embarassing yourself for your little brother to help him with his nightmares. It dont wory but damn if Tommy isn’t laughing his ass off while his family makes absolute fools of themselves,,,BIG fav on this one chief (also Tommy showing this video to Schlatt and them absolutely losing it)

#dadschlatt tommy au #ask #Anonymous

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izzyfandoms · 5 years

Text

Spooky Sanders’ Haunted House - 1 - Introduction

Here’s my new au idea, I’m probably just gonna write and post oneshots about this whenever I feel like it but this won’t be a regular chapter fic

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Sympathetic Remus, ghosts, demons, angels, blood, possession, religious themes, major character death (because they’re ghosts)

General Taglist: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

Masterpost

In the middle of the woods stood a mansion: a large, foreboding mansion with pale walls, cracked windows and creaking hallways. It somehow felt both lived-in and abandoned at once – cold, but warm; repulsive, but inviting. It was the very definition of an oxymoron.

There was a small crowd gathered at the entrance to the mansion, as there often was, though these people had actually paid to be there, unlike those who sometimes showed up out of nowhere, uninvited, who had to be scared away. The mansion’s inhabitants were good at scaring people away, but that also often led to people wanting to come back, so it wasn’t always helpful.

Leading up to the front door of the mansion was a short, but elaborate, set of stairs: five large white steps, covered in cracks and moss that never seemed to go away, no matter how much they’d tried to get rid of it. At the top of this staircase stood a teenager, who looked to be about seventeen at most, dressed head-to-toe in black, with accents of silver and yellow, and with vitiligo covering one side of his face.

The boy leant on a decorative cane as he looked over the dozen-or-so people in front of him – they’d checked their tickets with the not-actually-24-year-old man who stood by the front gates. He grinned as they shifted awkwardly under the weight of his stare.

This would be fun.

“Greetings, Ladies, Gentlemen and those of you who know better, and welcome… to the Sanders’ family mansion. Now, some like to speculate that my family’s home is haunted by the ghost of our father – the world-famous actor, Thomas Sanders – as his death was as mysterious as his past, but I disagree. I have it on good authority that my father’s soul is up in heaven, where it belongs. No, the things that haunt my home are far more unpredictable.” His smile widened, baring his teeth. “We’re just lucky they haven’t decided to kill us yet.”

He paused for another second or two to gauge his audience’s reactions, before turning suddenly and pushing the large wooden doors open. They creaked noisily, and an ominous gust of wind shot out from the inside, tracing icy fingers down everyone’s spines and dancing through their hair.

The boy then motioned with his cane for the group to follow him inside.

“Follow me.” He instructed. “Don’t wander off. Don’t go upstairs. Don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to. We have eyes everywhere; you won’t get away with anything… untoward.”

He glanced back at them for a moment, eyes shining. “And, most importantly, try not to die. We don’t need to add another ghost to the collection.”

Once they were all inside, the doors slammed shut and the lights went out, engulfing them in darkness. A childish giggle rang through the air as another new voice whispered from all around them:

“You’ll regret this.”

***

Virgil wandered down one of his mansion’s many corridors – he’d never get used to the ‘his’ part of that phrase, he may be the oldest Sanders sibling at twenty-two years old (and the only adult in the house, as Remy and Emile didn’t count) and therefore the owner of the place, but, to him, it would always be their father’s.

He half-heartedly tapped at his phone, typing out a message to his friend, Toby, and scowling slightly when the Wi-fi stopped working, which was an unfortunately common occurrence in this place. He didn’t look up when he reached the end of the hallway, pulling a door open and stepping inside. It immediately slammed shut behind him, and only then did he glance away from his phone, one eyebrow raised.

His eyes widened slightly.

The bookshelves were empty, their contents swirling across the ceiling, in a constant state of chaotic movement, though they seemed undamaged, none of the covers missing or pages falling out. The closet in the corner was rattling violently and the TV showed only deafening static, dark blood leaking out the bottom of the screen. In the centre of it all sat Virgil’s twelve-year-old brother, Roman, curled up on the couch, knees to his chest, his back to his brother as he mumbled to himself.

All of a sudden, his head twisted around 180 degrees to face Virgil. His eyes were dead – pupils white – and his nose was bleeding. He opened his mouth to let out an ear-splitting screech, and that’s when Virgil finally snapped out of his daze, blinking a few times in surprise before he frowned disapprovingly.

“Remus, give Roman control of his body back. You had it during the tour, and he needs to do his homework. You can have it back later.”

Remus’s scream continued for another moment or two, before his jaw snapped shut and his head spun back into place. He shook it a few times before he turned back to Virgil, his eyes alive and normal again, though he was pouting.

“Aww, come on, Virge.” Roman whined. “Don’t be such a royal pain, we were having fun!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, reaching out and ruffling his younger brother’s hair. “Yeah, yeah. Just go do your homework, kid.” He then turned to the TV. “Patton, get out of there and clean up that blood, you’re going to break it.”

The static stopped, the screen going black, and, a few seconds later, a tiny nine-year-old boy climbed out of the television, dressed in a blood-stained grey cat onesie and large round glasses. They were cracked, but he never seemed to notice.

Patton beamed widely – too widely – when he landed on the ground, picking up the tiny toy cat that lay beside the TV. It was grey, white and missing an eye, with half of its fur matted with what used to be blood. He ran up to Virgil, wrapping his tiny arms around the man’s legs in a hug. The television re-absorbed all of the blood as he grinned up at his pseudo-older brother.

“Where’s Janus?” He asked, voice as glitchy as ever.

Virgil hummed in thought, patting the young boy’s head as best he could. “Uh, he should be back in his room? I don’t-”

Patton disappeared before he could finish, and the toy cat dropped to the ground. Virgil sighed, picking it up and putting it in his hoodie pocket, he could return it later. He then turned to the still-shaking wardrobe.

“Logan, I know you’re in there. I’m not sure how Remus dragged you into this mess, but I bet Remy had something to do with this, too.”

The books circling the ceiling suddenly paused mid-air, before slowly floating back towards the bookshelf and arranging themselves alphabetically, much neater than they’d been prior to this. The closet then stopped shaking and fifteen-year-old Logan stepped out. He looked about the same as usual, apart from the small blue horns on his head and the matching demonic tail that was curled around one of his legs.

Logan adjusted his glasses. “I apologise, Virgil, but Remy had nothing to do with this, actually, not that he tried to stop it, either. Emile was the one who advised I help out with their little… prank, of sorts. It was good practise for my powers. He also suggested I keep my horns and tail out more, he said it would help me become more in touch with my demonic heritage.”

Virgil sighed again. “Of course, he did.” He paused, before continuing. “Speak of the demon, do you know where he is? I haven’t seen him since the tour earlier, and I’m concerned he’s sacrificing a goat somewhere and making a mess of the place.”

Logan shrugged. “Hell, probably.” He flicked his wrist and floated a textbook into his arms. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Virgil, I have some reading I’d like to get back to. Remus interrupted my studies when he’d suggested this failure of a practical joke.” And, with that, he left, his tail and horns disappearing back into his body.

Virgil massaged the bridge of his nose. It could be difficult, sometimes, looking after his two human brothers, two ghosts (one of which had accidentally possessed and couldn’t unpossess his youngest brother) as well as the literal antichrist. He’d say it was worth it, and that they were his family and he loved them, but that didn’t make it any less stressful.

“’Sup, babe, you brooding again? You’ve got your brooding face on.”

Virgil looked up, immediately spotting his literal guardian angel floating above him, loudly slurping a Starbucks coffee. Heaven knows how he got his hands on it – the nearest Starbucks was hours away, and he’d seen Remy just a few minutes prior without the drink.

“Please stop calling me that.” Virgil said dryly, flopping onto the couch and burying his face into one of the cushions.

Remy snorted, wings twitching. “Gurl, we both know I don’t mean it like that. You’re cute and all, but angels can’t date their humans.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Since when did you care about the rules? You weren’t supposed to reveal yourself or move in, either, but you still did.”

“Rules are made to be broken.” Remy said seriously, contradicting his earlier statement, but Virgil ignored that fact. “Besides, I’ve got my eye on that cute friend of yours, remember? He’s, like, still single, right?”

“Nate?” Virgil sat up. “Uh… yeah, I think so.”

“Nice, I’m gonna tap that.”

Virgil groaned. “Please don’t.”

Remy’s face turned serious. “There’s literally nothing you can do to stop me.” He floated down until he was laying on the coach, wings folded against his back, his bunny slippers in Virgil’s lap.

“I’m sure I could figure something out.” Virgil snorted. “Janus’s got tons of books on the occult, I’m sure he could find some kind of spell to stop an angel from being so horny all the damn time.”

“Excuse you!” Remy gasped loudly, lightly kicking Virgil. “I am angelic, thank you very much, I have nothing to do with the occult!”

Just as the latter was about to respond, they were interrupted by a loud bang from the other side of the house. It sounded like it was coming from Janus’s room, which was unsurprising, as most suspicious loud noises came from there.

Remy and Virgil exchanged a quick look before jumping up and rushing in that direction. The human out of concern and anxiety, and the angel mostly out of curiosity. They bumped into both Roman and Logan on the way, who followed them to Janus’s room.

It looked normal from the outside – the door had been painted black during Janus’s goth phase (which wasn’t quite over yet, to be honest) – but there was no way of guessing what was going on inside.

Virgil reached for the door handle, but it burst open before he could lay a hand on it. Six dark shapes shot past them – Remy only just about managing to catch the 22-year-old before he fell – and they each ran off in different directions, presumably scattering all around the house, screeching loudly as they went.

“Shit.” Janus swore, and everyone turned to look at him.

He was sitting in the centre of the room, beside a broken pentagram that still looked damp – it was newly painted – and one of his many, many books on the occult. There were black candles everywhere, though only about half of them were lit, and Patton was peeking out from behind the teenager, eyes wide and mouth in a small o-shape.

“Demons.” Remy said. “You summoned six demons. What, wasn’t Emile enough for you?”

Virgil blinked a few times in surprise, before his face settled into a disapproving expression. Janus half-smiled sheepishly.

“Uh… woops?”

“Again, Janus?” Virgil scolded. “This is the third time this week, seventh this month, you’re dealing with this on your own.” He then turned on his heel and stomped back to his room.

Remy followed quickly after, and both Roman and Logan returned to their own rooms as well, leaving Janus and Patton alone again. They exchanged a glance.

Patton blinked owlishly at him before disappearing too.

Janus sighed, picking himself up off the floor and dusting himself off. This would be a long evening.

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captainmarvels · 5 years

Text

goatman’s bridge

Summary: Steve and Robin film their newest episode of Unsolved at the demonic Goatman’s bridge.

Steve Appreciation Week Day 4 Prompt: Crossover - buzzfeed unsolved

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Robin Buckley (platonic)

Warnings: lots of swearing lmao

Word Count: 2124

A/N: An anon inspired this; it’s more of an AU than crossover but i take the blame for getting carried away! anyways, i hope you enjoy and pls watch buzzfeed unsolved xoxo

Demons are the last thing you want to mess with.

There’s really no possible situation where you’d end up having to confront a demon during your lifetime, but unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Steve.

As a video producer and star of one of Buzzfeed’s hit web series, Buzzfeed Unsolved, Steve was (un)willingly putting his life more or less on the line every time he ventured out to famous haunted sites with his best friend and co-star, Robin.

This latest episode they were shooting was proving to be the most terrifying one yet.

They had just arrived in Texas earlier today, and were now on their way to the small town of Denton, home to the demonic Goatman’s Bridge.

Steve was behind the wheel, goosebumps spreading across his arms as they came closer to the site of the shoot. Robin was in the passenger seat, looking out the window as they passed large fields of green grass.

“Dude, I’m so nervous,” Steve suddenly said, laughing off his fear as Robin glanced over at him.

“Don’t be nervous with such a beautiful sunset like that!” She gestured at the orange streaks in the sky, the sun setting in the far distance.

“I know what lies underneath it!” Steve responded, covering his mouth with his hand in worry as he thought about what was waiting for them at the bridge.

“Nighttime? Darkness?” Robin quipped.

“And demons,” Steve whispered, his eyes now trained on the road ahead.

“I hate demons.”

While the camera crew were setting everything up near the edge of the bridge and readying their audio recording devices, Steve and Robin adjusted their mics back at the truck.

“You ready for this, dingus?” Robin asked as she checked the camera hanging off her neck.

“This is my demon sacrifice of the season so no, I’d say I’m not,” Steve opened the trunk of the car, and pulled out his duffel bag that he always carried with him during these shoots.

“You know what Steve, I’m not trying to scare you but… I got a bad feeling about this one,” Robin couldn’t help but grin as she watched him riffle through his things.

“Shut up-”

“I do,”

“It’s okay. I came prepared,” Steve stepped back from the trunk.

“What’re you prepared with?” She asked, confused.

“Oh you’ll see,”

“Why’re you unbuttoning your pants?” Robin held out her video recorder, a look of confusion and disgust crossing her face as she watched Steve hook something to his belt.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“We’re in public right no- what are you doing?” Robin was growing more confused with every passing second, Steve offering no answers.

“Shut up!” As he turned around and Robin finally saw what he was wearing, her face brightened up, a wide smile appearing as she shook her head.

“Oh dingus,” She said, chuckling under her breath as Steve turned to face her.

“What?”

“You’ve outdumbed yourself!” She gestured to the Nerf gun, filled with holy water, strapped to a holster on his leg, laughing as he just waved her off.

“I thought this was gonna be funny, but now I’m happy that I brought it!”

Once the camera crew was set up and ready to go, Steve and Robin took their places at the end of the bridge, video recorders in hand.

“Don’t piss your pants, dingus!” Robin whispered, smiling as Steve rolled his eyes at her.

“On three, you guys! One, two… three!” Steve and Robin stepped onto the bridge, and Steve could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he cautiously moved forward.

Robin, being the jokester she always was, began to talk with the demon.

“Any demons here? Got any demons out tonight? Any horny boys? Or whatever they’re-”

“Horny boys?” Steve scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Robin as she stopped in the middle of the bridge, slowly turning in a circle.

“They got horns!” Steve shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Let your presence be known,” He said flatly, his nerves getting the best of him. “Say somethin’...why are you on this bridge?”

Nothing but silence followed Steve’s question. Robin moved her flashlight across the bridge, and then turned it up towards the pitch-black sky.

Steve looked at her and said, “You ask questions,”

“Why’re you on the bridge?” She asked, repeating his earlier question. Steve wheezed, rolling his eyes once again.

“Goatman!” She said loudly, making a serious face as she looked left and right. She glanced at Steve.

“You feel that? Feel the Goatman energy?”

“I don’t like when you say his name!” Steve said hurriedly, moving his flashlight across the bridge once more.

“Feel some goat vibes?”

Steve shook his head no, and was about to say something when Robin spoke up.

“You may not like this, but I’m gonna try and agitate it - I’m just gonna go-”

“You do what you gotta do, and I’ll do what I gotta do, Buckley!” Steve took a step back towards the railing, his hands up as if in surrender.

“I’m just gonna be as crude as possible here, alright?”

“Get on with it, man!”

“Fuck you, Goatman!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. She was holding a straight face, but Steve couldn’t contain his laughter.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, eyes wide as he looked at her.

“Was that good?” She asked, eyebrows raised as they looked at one another.

“I thought you were gonna build your way up!”

“No no, why wait?”

“Well if you don’t believe, there’s nothing to be afraid of then, right?” Steve could hear the fear in his voice, and he was struggling to control his breathing as she just shrugged. “You can be as big a prick as you want! I’m gonna stand over here,” He moved back, closer to the bridge’s railing as Robin started dancing about the bridge, moving in circles.

“Goatman! I’m dancing on your bridge! It’s my bridge now! You hear that? You want me off this bridge, you’re gonna have to kill me! Which would be homophobic, by the way,”

Steve was laughing in fear and amusement, his laughter interrupted by “Holy shit!”’s every now and then as Robin kept provoking the demon.

Tonight’s the night she gets us killed, was all he could think as he watched her messing around.

“Look at the way I dance on it, I disrespect your bridge, Goatman!”

“He’s takin’ names right now, oh my god-” Steve was half wheezing, half laughing, all while trying to spit out a coherent sentence as Robin continued her antics.

“You hear that, Goatman? Me and Steve Harrington own your bridge now! We-”

“Nope!” Steve shouted, eyes bug wide as he started fumbling over his words. “Nope, do not loop me into your shit right now! Stop looping me in - God, I hate when you do this!”

“Then tell him you’re not a part of this!”

“I’m not- I’m not part of her little charade!” Steve said frantically, looking behind him.

“You’re talking to Goatman now,” Robin said, grinning from ear to ear as Steve realized what she’d done.

“I see what you did there,”

“It’s Goatman entrapment!”

After the two of them took a breather from Robin’s tomfoolery, Steve recorded a bit on the lore surrounding the bridge’s demonic owner, and the history from local residents who claimed to have seen the Goatman after committing certain acts.

“So you’re saying, if I knock on this bridge three times, Mr. Goatman will have to show his face and fight me for his bridge?” Robin was fighting back a stupidly joyful grin, and Steve had to stop himself from rolling his eyes for the millionth time that night.

“Well, according to legend, if you knock three times, you can see his glowing eyes,”

“Alright then, you’re up, dingus!” Before Steve could protest his involuntary volunteering, Robin grabbed his video recorder out of his hand and gestured to the red railing.

“Goddamnit,” Steve muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned to face the railing.

“Talking to the Goatman, opening up a line of communication,” Robin leaned down to capture Steve’s worrisome facial expressions as he closed his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Buckley! I’m gonna murder you! You’re not helping!”

They both started laughing, Steve’s eyes wider than humanly possible as he stared his worst fear right in the face.

Now or never.

“I’m gonna knock on your bridge,” Steve said in a shaky voice. He raised his hand up, and rapped on the metal bridge three times. Nothing happened; Robin peered over the railing with her flashlight and camera, but saw nothing.

“Just another load of horseshit!” She jeered, rolling her eyes when Steve looked back at her.

“Alright, alright. Let’s head into the woods,”

“Oh, a change of venue! How refreshing,” Robin whispered sarcastically, nudging Steve in the side as she walked ahead of him. “We’ll be back, Goatman! After all, this is our bridge now!”

“Okay, keep it moving,” Steve muttered, tapping her shoulder with the end of his flashlight.

“That’s how you get him!” She said, walking quickly to catch up with Steve as the camera crew followed close behind.

“How many times you walk through the woods late at night?” Robin posed the question as they passed some gnarly bushes along the path.

“Never, which makes me hate this a lot more now,” Steve answered, moving his flashlight through the bushes and trees as they moved along.

“Steve, can demons be gay? Asking for a friend,”

“Oh, you think we’ll run into any satanic cults on our walk? Steve?”

“You know, there were reports saying that pet stores had to stop selling cats because of all the remains they were finding out here so, who knows?”

“Do you think they put up Craigslist ads for their cult meetings?” Steve stopped in his tracks and looked into the bushes behind him with his flashlight, ignoring Robin.

“I swear to God, one of these times, we’re gonna die,” Steve muttered under his breath, turning around to find Robin looking over his shoulder. “Jesus, do you have to be that close to me?”

Moving past her, they continued down the gravel path.

“Hello? Anyone there? We’re here for the cult stuff!” Robin said loudly, groaning when Steve hit her with the end of his flashlight.

“What are you doing, Buckley?” He asked nervously, his hands shaking as he looked at the bushes next to them.

��We have to convince them we’re on their side so they’ll show themselves!”

“Oh god, would you stop!” Steve shook his head and kept moving, Robin scrambling to catch up.

As they continued examining the bushes and trees along the path, Steve began talking about more of the bridge and woods’ lore.

“So, lots of previous investigators have said they’ve picked up on the same name referring to the Goatman on EVPs and spirit boxes and stuff,”

“What’s Goatman’s name?” Robin asked, flashing her light in Steve’s face.

“.... Steve,”

“Ha! Is that because all Steves are wimps or what?”

“Hey!” He shouted, hitting her in the arm as she laughed hysterically.

“Okay, okay, but seriously! Why not use a name that at least strikes terror? Steve is the least scary name I’ve ever heard of, and even you have to admit that, dingus!”

“Okay, alright, fair but still - why must it be terrifying?”

“Not living up to the expectations of a demon goatman is homophobia, Steven. The gays deserve better than a cheap trick like Steve the Goatman!”

After another half hour passed, Steve, Robin, and the camera team headed back to the bridge, for one final taunting of the Goatman.

“Well, time to say goodbye! Are you gonna say anything to Steve, Steve?” Robin quipped, laughing as Steve rolled his eyes.

“I guess I can,”

“Oh?”

“I feel like I’ve conquered it now, okay?”

“Well, the bridge is yours, my friend,” She gestured to the floor, smiling wide as Steve walked past her, towards the middle of the bridge.

“Well demons… it’s been fun, but uh, sayonara, see you never!” Steve’s entire body was shaking as he spoke, and he practically ran off the bridge before Robin said anything.

“Bye Goatman! You fucking wimp!” Robin said, laughing as she joined him on the other side, their crew right behind them.

Once they packed everything and were safely back in their cars, Steve finally took a deep breath, trying to control his racing heartbeat.

“Another unsolved case for the books, dingus! You think you’ll be able to sleep tonight?” Robin pulled out her phone to set up the GPS before turning on the car.

Steve’s eyes were shut, his heartbeat slowing as he timed his breaths.

“Dingus?”

“Ask me tomorrow, yeah?”

tags:

@bifrostythor @messybitchjuice @bittergoldilocks @ahoyfandoms @mercedesbarnes @thorsxodinson @edgehogg @emjothehoe @marvelismylifffe @000bananaclip000 @cxddlyash @l4life @spidey-pal @iydianight @harringtonsbaseballbat @1-800-gotjunk @novaddictx @fragcc @sadhwstudent @bitessathompson @madeinthemidnightmemories @nancethebadass @okaybutsteveharrington @coffee-and-stories @multifan-smc @stebehairrington @cassandras-musings

#dailyharrington #steveweek2019 #steve harrington #robin buckley #steve harrington x robin buckley #steve x robin #stranger things #buzzfeed unsolved au #steve harrington au

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

intents wicked or charitable (trixya) 4/10 - beanierose

AN: Thanks as always to my wonderful ladies, none of this would exist without your support and encouragement.

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

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

a practical magic au for the spooky season. there’s a curse on any man who dares love you? love a woman, instead. | 5,164 words

“Katya, oh my God, don’t- be careful,” Trixie yelps and flattens herself against the cabinets as Katya dances right by her, glass held aloft and sticky orange and lime spilling over her hand and down her arm.

Her hair is falling in her face, her bangs getting a little long again even though Trixie trimmed them for her two weeks ago over the bathroom sink. Dolly is following Katya as she loops circuitously around the kitchen, both of them skidding on the tile in paws and sock feet respectively. Trixie’s telephone dates with Kim have been bumped to Saturdays, because she’s busy on Fridays now.

They’re dates. She thinks so, anyway. Each time she makes the drive over to Katya’s place with Dolly sitting in the passenger seat and hanging her long head out of the wound-down truck window, Trixie is fidgety with anticipation. She finds herself unable to stop drumming her fingers against the dash. It’s part of her routine now, after only a month. She usually sees Katya three or four times a week, but they don’t have a set schedule other than their Friday nights.

It started because Katya insisted that she can cook, insisted she be given a chance to prove herself. Trixie is always trepidatious and sometimes downright horrified at the idea of anybody cooking for her, but Katya’s face was pink with childlike enthusiasm where she sat on Trixie’s kitchen counter. She’d had the sleeves of her sweater pulled down over her hands and Trixie had said yes to distract herself from how badly she ached to hold her. Her cooking is actually pretty good. It isn’t Michelin good, isn’t Trixie good, but it’s a lot better than Trixie was, unfairly, anticipating.

Katya hands Trixie a fresh glass, only spilling it a tiny bit. Trixie sucks the margarita from the webbing of her thumb, and then downs half of it. It’s her second, and she’s beginning to feel this one go to her head. She’s not drunk, just pleasantly aware of herself and of Katya. She feels lovely, calm and warm and gentle.

The music player is in the living room, and Katya has it turned up louder than is necessary so that the delicate china rattles in the cabinet. She never uses it anyway, sticks to the same plate and bowl and cup and gets out another of each, unmatching of course, for when Trixie is here.

“I am totally in control of my faculties, thank you so much,” Katya says, and the most annoying part is that it’s true.

Midnight margaritas are a tradition Katya started with her two aunts, Jinkx and Dela. They don’t live here anymore, moved south because the winters are unkind, and Katya seems endlessly thrilled to have someone to share this with again. Her own margarita is virgin, but it doesn’t seem to matter. She is effervescent and enthusiastic and she keeps grabbing Trixie’s wrists to pull her along, trying to get her to dance.

She does. Trixie likes dancing, always has, and she likes feeling how warm Katya is. Sometimes their thighs brush, and Trixie blames the vertiginous tilt of her body into Katya’s on the alcohol. Katya’s dancing is unconventional, seems to mostly involve her rolling her hips and lifting her hands into the air and spilling her drink all over the floor. She’s grinning so wide that it doesn’t matter.

Dolly keeps trying to worm her way in between them, her whole body wiggling with excitement. Trixie stumbles and grabs for Katya to keep from going to the ground, which only makes her crash into the island, and Dolly barks at the cacophonous spill of laughter from them both.

It’s warm enough that Trixie took off her plaid shirt, since it kept falling down her shoulders and getting in the way, and she’s in just her tank. It’s made dark with sweat and clinging beneath her breasts, and she’s caught Katya looking a couple of times.

Today at the store Katya tried a new aromatherapy blend and Trixie can smell it on her now, the two of them dancing close enough that she catches cypress and bergamot every time Katya turns her head. Katya laughs a lot while she dances, her head thrown back, and Trixie watches the work of her throat and allows herself the luxury of imagining what that pale skin might taste like.

She can feel the heat of Katya’s thighs against hers, and she is intoxicated by both the intimacy and the alcohol. Katya’s eyes are on her, she feels them on her ass when she turns around and sways, rakes her hands through her own hair. It’s been a while since she’s done this, but two drinks down she is loosening up and listening to her body again. Katya’s hands come to her hips and draw Trixie back against her. They’re not grinding, not quite, but if Trixie leaned in to Katya even a half inch more they would be.

It is so late, later than Trixie has been awake since she moved out here. It makes her feel open-hearted, like she wants to lay beneath the covers with Katya and whisper all of her secrets.

They don’t have many. Trixie has been spending a lot of time at Verbena, and she often brings Katya home with her when the store closes for the day because she insists that she needs “to see my ladies and my handsome gentlemen, Trixie, I’m their fun aunt.”

The song finishes and starts back playing again immediately because Katya’s got the CD player programmed to loop. They dance together for two more renditions until Trixie’s arms get tired and she sits down right on the kitchen floor with her legs stretched out in front of her. Katya pretends to trip over them and settles next to Trixie, one absent hand scratching Dolly behind the ears.

Trixie lets her head thud back against the cabinet door a bit harder than she means to and she grunts, has to blink to clear the soft-focus edges of her vision. The alcohol has made her loose and lazy and she rolls her head to see Katya beside her. Her cheeks are pink and a bead of sweat slides down from her hairline towards her ear. It feels like they’re teenagers, like she’s taken off her skin and is holding it in her hands.

“Hey, Katya? Can I ask you about something?”

It comes out less slurred than she was anticipating. Now that she’s sitting down she doesn’t feel quite so drunk. Dolly has settled too, her head heavy across Katya’s thighs. With anybody else, Trixie would be jealous, but Katya is so deeply in love with Trixie’s dog that she doesn’t care at all. She gets a little hum from Katya and she turns to look straight ahead again.

It’s much warmer in the kitchen than outside and condensation is beading on the window panes. Katya has a huge island that’s really a table, and there are hooks screwed into the underside of it where she hangs all of her saucepans and skillets. The tequila bottle is on the floor next to Trixie’s foot, because Katya insisted it’s bad luck to put your empties back on the table. She has little sprigs of dried lavender tied up in the windows and she’s growing herbs on the sill. Trixie could sit here for a very long time.

“Did you kill your husband?”

All of the breath goes out of Katya, and Trixie feels it like a blow to her own chest. She regrets it immediately. The music is still playing and it is uncomfortably loud now, inappropriately loud for this conversation. Trixie gets up to turn it off, not at all expecting Katya to follow her, but she is. She does.

“Come with me?” Her voice is so small.

Trixie follows her in her sock feet all the way upstairs. She’s never been up here before and it feels like she’s trespassing, even though Katya keeps turning over her shoulder to check that Trixie is still there. She’s worrying at her bottom lip, but she washed her makeup off hours ago so there’s no red to get all over her teeth.

Up here none of the lights are on. Katya leads Trixie into a bedroom — it isn’t hers, she’s pretty sure — and kneels down in the middle of the floor. The curtains are secured either side of the window with little braided cords and Trixie can see right out over the cove. The trees are dark and feathered like brushstrokes and the moon’s wise, unblinking eye peers in at them. She feels laid bare, and she sinks down to join Katya on the floor so that she can’t be seen anymore.

There’s a rug in here, a threadbare one that coughs up a great cloud of dust when Katya folds it over itself and back out of the way. She sits on her feet and threads her fingers together, traps her clasped hands between her knees. She’s diminishing herself, collapsing inwards, and very carefully not looking at Trixie.

“Have you heard of the deathwatch beetle?”

Trixie shifts to sit cross-legged. There’s an errant thread at the knee of her pants and she tugs on it until it’s long enough to wind around her finger. It’s so quiet and still. At home, even in the middle of the night, Trixie can hear the low groaning of her house and the occasional bleat of the goats out in the cowshed. Katya’s house is silent, like the whole place is holding its breath.

“I told you, I’m from Wisconsin. There’s no bug I have not met.”

It’s not a lie, not exactly. She has heard the term before, from her grandmother’s friends at bridge club. Trixie doesn’t know much beyond the name, but she’s not about to admit that to Katya. Trixie is smart with her hands, not always with her head. She’s not sure that she’s ready for Katya to know that about her just yet.

It does at least get Katya to huff a tiny little laugh, like Trixie has hit her in the solar plexus and forced it out. “The day he died, I was downstairs pottering around like a good little wife.”

Katya has never mentioned her husband before, not in all the weeks that Trixie has known her. She doesn’t seem surprised that Trixie has heard about him; she grew up here in this town and is certainly aware that she is everybody’s favourite topic of conversation.

“I can really see you in an apron. A cute little frilly number? Perfect on you.”

“Duh, I’m so cute.” She wiggles her shoulders as if to prove her point. Not that Trixie needs convincing. “Deathwatch beetles, they uh- they bore into wood.”

Trixie keeps her face slack, doesn’t dare look at Katya. “Honey, you can bore into me any time.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. She always does this, fumbles the heavy stuff in her clumsy hands. Trixie folds them neatly in her lap instead and shuts the hell up, lets Katya explain.

“When they’re looking for a mate they make this ticking sound, and you can hear it in old buildings. In the rafters. You know when it’s summer, and it’s so late but it’s too God damn hot to sleep so you’re just laying there on your back all sticky and disgusting?”

“Sure.”

Trixie thinks on that for a moment, lets herself imagine Katya sprawled like a pre-Raphaelite across her sheets. Her shirt rucked up to show her stomach, or maybe abandoned completely. Frustration making her restless, making her hips shift. Her mouth floods and Trixie swallows, lets all her breath out in a little huff.

“They’ve gotten to be associated with the vigil kept beside the dying. That’s where they get their name. Keats mentions them in Endymion, and Thoreau does in one of his essays. Oh, and they’re in Tom Sawyer, too!”

“Katya,” Trixie says gently. It makes her lift her head and she blinks at Trixie like she’s surprised to find her here.

“I heard them. I fucked up the floorboards, prising them up to try and find them. See where they’re all crooked?”

Trixie leans in to see. It’s so dark in the room that she can’t, not really, but she nods anyway. Katya pushes down on the floor and it creaks loudly, sends a cascade of gooseflesh down Trixie’s spine like cold water.

“I hate straight things,” Trixie offers. She has never been very good at this, doesn’t know what to do with grief, but with Katya she wants to hold out both of her hands and take it from her. “But. I could fix it?”

“No!” Katya blurts, too loudly in the small bedroom. She’s brought her other hand to rest on the floor as well, both of them splayed wide as if in protection.

Sitting here in the dark is not doing much to sober Trixie up. She’s not so far gone that she won’t remember this in the morning, but her filter isn’t working very well. There are so many questions all elbowing each other for her attention, and she picks the worst possible one out of the lineup.

“So what actually happened to him?”

Katya’s face crumples for just a second but she claws it back, smooths herself out the same way she does with her palms against the thighs of her pants whenever she gets out of the car. One rogue, round tear escapes and slides down her face towards her neck.

“He was hit by a truck. While he was making a delivery to the produce market. Betty saw it happen.”

Something small shifts inside of Trixie, but it feels significant. She’s just far enough away from Katya that when she reaches for her it’s graceless and awkward. Trixie knee-walks over and wraps her arm around Katya’s shoulders. Her nose presses warm and pointy against the side of Trixie’s neck. Trixie wants to cradle the back of Katya’s head, wants to kiss her cheeks and rock her, but she doesn’t need to be gentled right now.

“And…that’s her problem with you?” Katya gives her a small, small nod. “What the fuck! What an evil cunt.”

The laugh that Katya lets out sounds like it’s choking her. She lifts up from Trixie and fumbles for her hand. Trixie gives it to her easily, lets her thread their fingers together. Katya’s eyes are moving rapidly back and forth like she’s tweaking — Trixie owns a double Michelin restaurant, she knows what that looks like. Adrenaline rushes through Trixie so swiftly that it makes her head feel wet and bloated. She supposes it makes sense for someone like Betty to allow their trauma to calcify, but she can’t fathom how Katya’s husband being hit by a truck could be construed as her fault.

“Yeah, that’s the problem” Katya says. “And that’s why I can’t even stand to look at a green apple.”

“Oh.” Trixie keeps her voice very soft, keeps her teasing gentle. “I thought that was just because you have the eating habits of a second grader. How many packs of Skittles do you go through in one day?”

Katya shrieks her first real laugh in what feels like six hours, and shoves on Trixie’s thigh. “Shut up! I hate you.”

“I know, I know, you want to kill me,” Trixie says without thinking, and then has to choke back a great tide of grief that wants to come pouring out. “Oh, Katya, I’ve joked about that so much. I’m so-”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s good. It’s been nice to have somebody who doesn’t walk on eggshells around me.”

Trixie smiles, and is surprised to find that she really means it. She wants Katya to be okay, whatever that looks like. Whatever she needs. “Oh honey, you think I could walk on eggshells? In these size nines?”

“With that fat ass?” Katya splutters out through her laughter.

She’s still clutching Trixie’s fingers so tight, shaking her hands in the air and dragging Trixie’s along with her. Trixie is glad for the moonlight and the alcohol, hopes that it will disguise the furious crimson bloom of want up her neck and in the apples of her cheeks. She isn’t stupid. The second she saw Katya something knotted up in her stomach and it has only been working itself tighter the longer she tries to ignore it.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“No, I haven’t killed anybody else.”

Trixie yells out loud and snatches her hand back from Katya, shoves her away with the ball of her foot. “Not that. Oh my God. You’re so awful.”

“What, then?”

“You loved him? It wasn’t like a…a beard situation?”

Katya gets up, but she’s not headed for the door so Trixie stays where she is. She rummages in the closet for a minute and comes back with a hunter green baseball cap. She’s wearing it on her fist and it is startlingly anthropomorphic, grotesquely so. Trixie has to look away, just for a second. When Katya kneels beside her again she settles the hat in her lap and traces the round white logo on the front. It’s so faded that Trixie can’t make it out in the low light.

“This was his. He wore it every day, always backwards. My aunts got rid of a lot of his stuff, but I kept this. He wasn’t a beard, Trixie.”

“Okay.”

“But I think, what you’re asking.” Katya tilts her head in consideration, pins Trixie in place. “I do love women. As well. People can like both, you know.”

Trixie opens her mouth and a tiny, embarrassing squeak comes out. Katya’s grinning at her from one side of her mouth. “I know they can! I have a bisexual friend.”

“You have at least two bisexual friends.” Katya pokes her toes into Trixie’s shin. She has allowed her smile to unravel across her entire face now, her nose scrunched up. Trixie feels hollowed out with want.

“Are we friends?”

Instead of answering, Katya gets to her feet. She puts her husband’s hat away inside the closet and closes the door to it, stays facing away from Trixie for a long moment. There are so many other things that Trixie wants to know (how long has it been, has Katya been with anybody since, does she miss him) but she’s not sure she can handle the crushing disappointment if she has to hear that Katya is not over it.

Her grandmother always told her never to ask a question you don’t really want the answer to. So, Trixie keeps her mouth shut. She can hear Dolly downstairs, her paws skittering on the hardwood. This whole, awful conversation has helped to sober her up, but she’s still not good to drive.

“Is this why you don’t like being in the truck?”

“No, that’s because of your awful driving,” Katya turns around to fire back at Trixie, but she’s laughing.

She pads over and holds out a hand, brings Trixie to her feet as well. Her brain stays on the ground for a moment longer than the rest of her. She really, really can’t drive home right now. “I might have to crash here tonight.”

Her voice pulls up at the end like it’s a question, but it isn’t. Katya’s nodding, still holding Trixie’s fingers, and she rotates her wrist to seal their palms together. She uses that grip to bring Trixie out of the bedroom with her and closes the door behind them. It feels like she’s closing the door to their conversation, too. They head downstairs and Katya sheds her grief in layers, reveals herself pink-raw and shiny by the time they’re in the kitchen.

Trixie takes Dolly outside on the leash to use the bathroom. She doesn’t bother with a jacket, doesn’t feel the cold while she’s out there, but when she comes back inside she’s shivering. Katya clicks her tongue and rubs Trixie’s biceps to put the warmth back into them. She’s gentling her, babying her, and it should be the other way around but Trixie is not about to be the one to put words to what they’re doing.

“It gets really cold in the house at night. Which works for me, because I’m a cryptkeeper.” Katya is busying herself at the sink, filling a shallow bowl with water that she sets on the floor for Dolly, and then coming back to pour two glasses for them both. It’s giving her an excuse not to look at Trixie, and in turn giving Trixie an excuse to stare at her. “I have a space heater that I put in my room, but I only have one.”

“Are you inviting me to share your bed?”

Trixie keeps thinking she’s more sober than she really is, and then she opens her mouth and her tongue feels uncomfortably large. Katya’s laughing at her, not with. She shuts off the stream of the faucet and heads for the doorway with a glass in each hand, flips the lightswitch with her elbow as she moves past. It leaves Trixie for a moment reeling and disoriented in the suddenly dark kitchen.

The dog hesitates at the foot of the staircase and tilts her apprehensive head from side to side. She whines, low and reedy, and Katya turns to see her. “Come on, milaya devushka. Time for bed.”

Katya whistles, and Trixie feels it like a fist right through the core of her. She heads up the stairs with one palm flat against the wall to keep her balance, wishing she had Katya’s hand in hers instead. At the top she flounders, unprepared to see Katya’s bedroom for the very first time. And then her blonde head peeks around the doorframe and she quirks an eyebrow and Trixie can’t stand to be anything less than right next to her.

“Drink that whole thing.” Katya nods towards the pint glass of water she’s set out on the nightstand. Trixie sits sideways on the mattress, feet on the floor, and drinks the whole thing down. Katya stands with her hands deep in the pockets of her pants, watching her. “Good. That should help your hangover.”

Trixie groans, preemptively. It’s been a while since she’s been drinking, and tomorrow morning — later this morning — is going to be miserable. But Katya looks pleased with her, is smiling at her, and Trixie wonders if maybe Katya will be convinced to let her curl up with her head in her lap.

“Do you need something to sleep in?”

“Oh, um…yeah. Shirt or something?”

Katya’s rifling through the drawers of her dresser and she flings a t-shirt over her shoulder towards Trixie, straightens up with a bundle of clothes in her fist. She disappears off to the bathroom down the hall and Trixie hurries out of her pants and tank top, peels off her bra as well. The shirt Katya has given her must be the biggest one she owns. It’s dark green with a white vinyl logo on the front of it that’s so cracked Trixie can’t tell what it used to be.

She inspects herself in the mirror over the dresser. The shirt is tight over her chest, the material ribbed between her breasts. It rides up to show two or three inches of her stomach above the waistband of her underwear. Trixie gets into bed, teeth unbrushed, to avoid the hot shame of Katya seeing her almost naked for the first time.

It isn’t supposed to be like this. It won’t be like this. Trixie has lingerie, lots of it. After things ended with Bob, she was dragged to the mall because Kim insisted that a new wardrobe would make her feel better about everything. It didn’t, not really, but she has some cute things now. Things with lace and velvet and sheer panels, satin and silk.

Things she is very much looking forward to sharing with Katya.

When Katya returns Trixie is lying on her back like a river stone, heavy and unmoving. Her eyes are open and she watches Katya’s moon shadow growing larger and larger across the ceiling as she moves through the room. She fiddles with a couple of things, like she’s delaying having to get in bed with Trixie. The space heater is plugged in across the room, a safe distance from the flammable bedsheets. Katya flips it on and the low, loud rattle fills the room suddenly.

She gets into bed and echoes Trixie, lies on her back. Dolly is standing like a benevolent spirit at the foot of the bed, eyeing the two of them, and then she hops up onto the sheets. She curls up at their feet and Katya makes an affronted noise. Trixie turns her head to see, peels one eye open.

“Better get used to that.”

Katya makes a tiny noise. Trixie is too tired and yeah, sure, too drunk to decipher it right now.

Now that she’s lying down and the white noise of the space heater is filling up her brain so she doesn’t have to think, she’s suddenly exhausted. The synthetic, burnt-dust smell is not unpleasant, and beneath it she can smell Katya’s detergent and Katya’s warm skin. Trixie is made brave by the darkness and by the late hour, so late that it’s almost time to start calling it early.

She slides her hand blindly across the sheets until it bumps Katya’s and leaves it there, invitation but not expectation. After a long moment, Katya’s pinky hooks around Trixie’s and she tugs twice. Trixie rolls onto her side to face Katya and brings her knees up. It’s been a long time since she’s been in anybody’s bed. Especially someone she likes so much. Someone she wants so much.

“Hey, Trixie?” She makes a little noise of assent. “Thanks. For letting me talk about him.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” Trixie whispers back.

Exhaustion is lapping at her, eroding her slowly and drawing her down and down but she is kicking furiously, fighting it. She’s in bed with Katya. It feels like a waste to not be touching her. Trixie scoots closer, nudging Dolly with her feet in the process and getting a disgruntled noise from the dog for that.

When she settles, Katya rolls to face her. She’s breathing through her nose, a little heavier than Trixie is used to, or maybe it’s just that she isn’t usually close enough to hear. Trixie is very aware of her bare legs, the red welts her underwear are leaving at her hips, her mouth fuzzy with alcohol.

“Will you hold me?” Trixie waits a beat too long to say yes and Katya starts backpedalling furiously, starts recoiling. “Forget it, I’m sorry, God. That’s so gay. Sorry.”

Trixie reaches for her in the darkness, her pale hands searching through the leaves of the night until she can get an arm at Katya’s waist and haul her in close. She slides easily across the sheets, loose-limbed and wanting. Trixie can be remarkably self-involved, but she’s not an idiot.

“Come here, and shut the fuck up. Oh my God. Turn over, you’re not jabbing me with your knees all night long.”

She loosens her grip enough that Katya can turn over and then tightens it again, splays her palm at Katya’s stomach. Over her shirt, but she can feel the warmth of her skin through it and the lift and collapse of her chest as she breathes. She’s making these tiny snuffling noises, like she might be crying, but Trixie is not about to call her out on that.

Trixie falls asleep like she’s beneath a dropcloth, everything muffled all at once. When she wakes up neither Katya nor Dolly are in the bed with her, but there’s a fresh cup of coffee and a bottle of Advil on the nightstand. She swallows two down. Her bladder is growing rapidly more insistent and she gets out of bed, uses the bathroom.

Now that she’s up, she can hear Katya downstairs. She’s singing to the dog, off-key and quiet like she’s worried about waking Trixie. She must hear the cistern refilling — it is obscenely loud — and she shouts, her voice echoing up the stairs.

“Trixie, I’m making eggs. Are you alive? Can you eat?”

It’s warm in the kitchen, much warmer than the rest of the house. Dolly is lying at Katya’s feet by the stove, her tail thumping arrhythmically in the hope of scraps. The eggs Katya’s making are from Trixie’s chickens; she brings her as many as she needs, as many as she likes.

“I’m alive.” Trixie hops up onto the island so she can swing her legs. It’s early, but she’ll need to head home for the rest of the animals pretty soon. “I actually- I feel really good. Are you, um…feeling good?”

Katya turns around and points at Trixie with the spatula. Some scrambled eggs drop onto the floor and Dolly land-swims close enough to vacuum them up. Trixie notices quite suddenly that Katya is dressed, in overalls and a huge knitted sweater and galoshes, and that Dolly’s leash is in a different spot on the counter. She must have taken her out already, and Trixie wonders whether she got any sleep at all.

“I feel great, Tracy. It’s like, you know.” She flutters her hands in the air around her face. “Weight’s lifted. All that. Hungry?”

Trixie kind of forgot where she is, this morning. She put her socks back on to come downstairs, because the floor is cold, but not her pants. Not any of her real clothes. She’s sitting here, in the daylight, in the clothes she wanted so desperately to avoid Katya seeing her in last night. Until this morning, she didn’t know that her thighs get pink when she blushes, too.

“Starving,” she says, and accepts the plate Katya presents to her. She hops down from the island and roots in the silverware drawer for two forks, hands one over.

Katya is watching her. Her bangs are funky, sticking up in places, and there’s a smudge underneath her eye where she didn’t quite get all of her makeup yesterday. She tilts her head and gives Trixie a small smile, like she’s surprised and thrilled to find her here.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Katya shrugs. “You’re cute in the mornings.”

Trixie takes that, absorbs it, allows it to pass without incident. She can’t stop working her tongue around her fuzzy teeth, anxious to eat and get the taste of the morning out of her mouth.

It’s not now. Whatever this is, whatever they’re doing, it’s not this morning. Probably not today.

She watches Katya bend ninety degrees at the waist to fuss over the dog, watches her straighten up again and grin at Trixie, and she knows. It’s going to be soon.

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

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