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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Undone, Chapter 27 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s a link to the previous chapters. Thank you so much to everyone who helped beta this chapter since I was a needy cunt and needed lots of advice: @opalescent-cheetah, @artificialpuddle, @artificial-jazz, @blackhighheels

Summary: Bianca wraps herself up in Courtney, pushing all thoughts of her impending divorce from her head. Until she has no choice.

TW: Past emotional abuse, PTSD

***

Courtney slowly opens her eyes, and the first sensation she’s aware of is Bianca’s soft thigh sandwiched between hers, the smooth skin of her shoulder beneath her cheek, her round little bump against her hand. Courtney smiles, not wanting to move a muscle, elation flooding her senses as she breathes in the moment--a moment so perfect, that it may as well have been concocted in one of her more elaborate fantasies.

Finally, she dares to lift her head, witnesses Bianca’s eyes flutter open. She doesn’t realize that she’s holding her breath until Bianca smiles at her, dimples appearing in her cheeks, and all the air in her lungs finally empties.

“Good morning,” Bianca says hoarsely, running a hand through Courtney’s hair.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Courtney responds, kissing her on the cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby.” Bianca bites her lip. “I can’t believe that finally happened.”

“Tell me about it.”

Bianca smiles again, leaning forward to capture her lips in a kiss. Courtney sighs into it, melting against Bianca’s body. The kisses soon turn teasing, both of them giggling as their tongues fight for dominance. Courtney nips gently at Bianca’s mouth, a shiver running down her spine when Bianca’s nails dig deeper into her shoulders.

“I could kiss you forever,” Courtney breathes, trailing her hands up Bianca’s arms.

“Mmm…” Bianca agrees, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss once again, addicted even to the sour morning taste of her.

The sound of Courtney's phone chiming loudly snaps her out of her euphoric daze. She reaches over to shut off the alarm with a slight groan. After fully registering the time, she rolls away from Bianca, who pouts cutely back at her.

“Come back…”

“We have to get ready for work.” Courtney lays a final kiss against Bianca’s temple, then sits up. Before she climbs out of bed, she can’t help but take a few moments to gaze down at Bianca. With her tangled hair, kiss-swollen lips, and cheeks flushed red with desire, she’s never looked more beautiful.

“What?” Bianca’s hand goes automatically to her hair, smoothing down a stray curl. “Am I a total mess?”

“You’re perfect.”

Bianca suppresses a smile, saying, “Maybe I should jump in the shower and become even more perfect.”

“Good idea.” Courtney is unable to resist leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on the side of her mouth. However, Bianca has other plans, grabbing her cheeks and deepening the kiss. Courtney succumbs, eyes falling closed as she sinks into it. Then, remembering their alleged agenda, she pulls back quickly and asks, “Can I make a request?”

“For the shower?” Bianca raises an eyebrow at her. “Okay, but you’re the one who’s worried about time.”

“No,” Courtney laughs. “Your hair...let it dry curly. No straightener.”

“Ugh.” Bianca’s nose wrinkles. “And then at work, what? Wear a ponytail? Like a farmer?”

Courtney laughs again, nuzzling her. “Exactly. It’ll be so cute...please…?”

“Fine. But when I’m a frizzy mess, you still have to love me.”

“Deal,” Courtney says, pressing their foreheads together.

***

“B?” Courtney steps through the curtain to Bianca’s side of the wardrobe trailer. She’d gotten a text asking her to come over after getting her wardrobe from Jamie, and part of her immediately worried that something was wrong.

“Hi baby!” Bianca turns from the rack, setting down her label maker and striding towards Courtney with a bounce in her step. Seeing her immediately soothes Courtney’s anxiety.

“Hey. Is everything good?” Courtney asks, as Bianca kisses her cheek, then steps back to eye her up and down.

She’s wearing a translucent chiffon robe trimmed with marabou feathers over a cream-colored satin negligee. It’s just one of many lingerie sets that she’s been wearing over the past few episodes - which Bianca hasn’t been able to enjoy, so self-conscious about how turned on she was.

Today, though, she lets her eyes roam over Courtney’s body - her long legs, lace trim skimming her thighs, hard nipples pushing against the thin satin.

“Mmm…” Bianca’s eyes narrow as she carefully scrutinizes every inch of the costume, finally meeting Courtney’s own. “Do you like it?

“What’s not to like?” Courtney says, touching the feathers, tossing her perfectly finger-waved hair over her shoulder. “It’s glamorous and luxurious…” she trails off as Bianca fingers her belt, pulling it slowly out of the knot, letting the robe fall open.

When her fingertips reach in to touch the cool satin, Courtney inhales sharply.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful...” Bianca pushes the robe off her shoulders, feathers tickling her skin, making her shiver.

Bianca slides the robe the rest of the way off, hanging it carefully. She places her hands firmly on Courtney’s hips, backing her into the small changing room, and yanks the curtain shut behind them. Courtney’s changed there countless times, but somehow, with Bianca there too, it feels entirely different.

“What are we doing in here?” Courtney asks, knees growing weak under Bianca’s burning gaze. Especially when she takes hold of the lacy bottom of the negligee, lifting it up slowly.

“What I’ve always wanted to do…”

Courtney’s arms raise, almost of their own accord, to let Bianca carefully pull the garment over her head.

“Do you know what it was like…” Bianca steps closer, “...to see you like this...all the time? Knowing that I would never get to touch you? At least, not the way I wanted to.” Bianca isn’t touching her currently, but she’s so close, Courtney can feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“Tell me...” Courtney is spellbound, her voice soft.

“Torture. Absolute fucking torture.”

As Courtney looks into Bianca’s eyes, she’s hot all over, blush coloring her cheeks, abdomen twisting with desire.

“All I wanted was for you to touch me,” Courtney says, voice nearly a whine.

Bianca leans in and murmurs into her ear, “I know. That made it worse.”

A whimper escapes Courtney’s lips, Bianca’s hot breath and measured self-control too much for her.

“What about now?” Courtney whispers back. “What are you thinking about now?”

Bianca drops unceremoniously to her knees, pushing Courtney onto the wooden bench.

“How fucking delicious you taste…” She spreads Courtney’s legs, ghosting a finger up her inner thigh.

Courtney is already trembling when Bianca’s mouth begins the same journey, first pressing a kiss right inside her knee, then higher and higher.

“Do we have time for this?”

“Don’t care,” Bianca says, leaving smears of red lipstick behind as she sucks wet kisses into her skin, clutching at her ass with one hand, the other sliding up to cup her tit.

The hunger with which Bianca is pawing at her is making Courtney so wet, her panties are absolutely drenched.

As if she can sense it, Bianca now nuzzles aggressively into her, nose and lips pressed to the damp fabric.

“Fuck,” Bianca groans, kissing up her stomach, gripping the sides of her thong. Courtney lifts her hips to let her pull it off more easily.

She looks up to see Courtney biting her lip, cheeks flushed a dark pink, and immediately takes ahold of her thighs again, pushing them farther apart. Courtney chokes back a moan as Bianca brings her face in slowly, lips brushing against her as soft as a whisper.

Courtney leans back against the wall, breath hitching, as a tongue circles closer and closer to her clit, barely touching her. Bianca continues to gently kiss her, lick her softly, until she’s squirming in agony, fistfuls of hair gripped in her hands.

By the time Bianca’s finished teasing, Courtney’s an absolute mess--dripping wet and practically vibrating with need. She’s unable to stifle her moans when Bianca finally starts sucking on her clit, unable to stop from rutting her hips desperately against her face.

“Bianca, everything okay in here?” Jamie’s voice calls out, causing Bianca to pull away, eyes wide. “I thought I heard something…”

Bianca looks up at Courtney, placing a finger silently against her lips. Courtney nods, chest heaving with tiny gasps.

“Yeah, everything’s fine!” Bianca calls back, fingers tracing patterns on Courtney’s thighs. “Did you get all the steaming done? Beth wanted it by eleven.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, I’ll finish that now.”

Bianca lowers her face again, lips millimeters from Courtney’s pussy when she once again sits up straight, calling, “Hey, Jamie?!”

“Yeah?”

‘You bitch,’ Courtney mouths, and Bianca stifles a wicked laugh.

“Make sure to pick up the rentals before 5, they’re closing early today,” Bianca says.

“Will do!” Jamie chirps.

“That couldn’t have waited ten more minutes?” Courtney whispers, tugging urgently on her hair.

“Sorry,” Bianca says, with a coy flutter of her lashes that tells Courtney she’s anything but sorry. She drops a teasing kiss to her thigh, asking, “Are you gonna be quiet now, baby?”

“I’m gonna try,” says Courtney, “But maybe you better-”

“Mmmmmm,” Bianca hums against her.

It sends a jolt right through Courtney’s core, making her hips jerk upwards. She bites down on the side of her fist, muffling the sounds begging to come out. After a few more tortuous moments of Bianca’s face buried between her legs, sucking mercilessly at her clit, she drops her hand to grip the bench.

“I...I can’t...I can’t be quiet,” she admits through gritted teeth, and Bianca tilts her head up, eyes raking over her body.

There’s a weighted pause, as Courtney’s chest heaves, and then Bianca smiles sweetly before saying, “Then don’t.”

“But what if someone...oh, god...what if someone hears?” Courtney gasps out.

Bianca shrugs, tongue flicking over her faster, unrelenting. When she starts humming some more, it immediately pushes Courtney over the edge.

It’s like a dam bursting open, as Courtney throws her head back, finally letting go. Her throaty moans get higher and higher until she’s gasping for air. Until she’s so sensitive that tears collect in her eyes. Bianca is pressing soft kisses all over - her thighs, her hips, up her belly. When she can finally breathe again, she bends over to take Bianca’s face in her hands, tilts up her chin for a sweet, exhausted kiss.

“Well that was...unexpected,” Courtney pants, tucking a stray curl behind Bianca’s ear. A giddy laugh bubbles up from her chest.

“Long time coming.”

Bianca surveys her body, which is a mess of lipstick and faint bite marks. She circles a finger around one particularly dark smear, by her knee, and offers up a naughty grin. “Look at you.”

“Yeah, I probably can’t go out there like this…” Courtney purrs, leaning back against the wall.

Part of Bianca wishes she would. Her pesky possessive streak wants everyone they know to see Courtney like this--branded. But she knows that’s not realistic, so she rises to her feet, pressing a kiss to the crown of Courtney’s head.

“I’ll scare up some makeup wipes.”

***

Courtney unhooks the dogs from their leashes, then pushes open the kitchen door. Her eyes widen at the sight of the kitchen table and counters piled high with all the contents of the cabinets. Bianca stands in front of one of the open cabinets, scrubbing furiously.

“Um...hi,” Courtney says tentatively. “Should I be concerned?”

They haven’t talked much about Bianca’s impending divorce, about the looming meeting with Jared two weeks away. And though she seems happy, Courtney knows that it’s weighing on her. This burst of frantic kitchen cleaning seems to confirm that.

“What? No.” Bianca wipes the sweat from her brow. “I just, uh…” She looks around, seems to realize what Courtney must be seeing.

“Yeah?” Courtney approaches slowly, leaning against the counter.

“Well...I know we’re having people over this weekend, and so I was cleaning the kitchen.”

“Uh huh…?” Courtney prompts, making it clear that she needs a deeper explanation. “And you’re worried that our friends will judge us for the inside of the cabinets?”

“Well...no. But I just...once I got started, I wanted to be thorough. I got a little carried away, I guess.”

“Right.” Courtney reaches out to touch Bianca’s cheek, the spot where her left dimple appears and then disappears.

“Would it help if I blamed pregnancy hormones?” Bianca sighs. She knows that it must look like some manic episode, but she honestly just wanted to clean the kitchen. Courtney seems to read her mind, lips grazing her jaw.

“Your thoroughness is very sexy.”

“It is?” Bianca raises an eyebrow.

“Mmhmmm, so much...but, um, we might need the table for dinner. Do you want me to help put all this shit back?”

Bianca narrows her eyes, certain that Courtney is patronizing her.

“Sure, as soon as I’m done. Actually, I made a pile of stuff that we could throw away. Why don’t you look at that?”

Courtney glances at the pile. There’s a cracked mug, a few containers missing their lids, a broken vegetable peeler, and a plastic souvenir cup from Mardi Gras 2015. She grabs the cup.

“We can’t get rid of this! I have good memories of that weekend…” Courtney insists. “Besides, we need plastic to use in the hot tub.”

Bianca takes it from her and moves it to the other cups with a roll of her eyes.

“I actually wasn’t sure if that was yours or mine. I was there in 2015 too.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, things were...well, the wedding planning was getting to me and so Latrice and I went back home for Mardi Gras.”

“So we could have met?!” Courtney squeals delightedly.

“Could have. Although I was pretty much blackout drunk the whole time.”

Courtney presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Definitely keep the cup. We can say we hooked up in the club.”

Bianca lets out a delighted cackle, leaning back as Courtney circles her arms around her from behind.

“Come here…” Courtney drags her backwards, towards the table, pulling out a chair and sinking into it.

“I’m not gonna sit in your lap!” Bianca laughs.

“Why not?” Courtney looks mildly offended.

“Because I’m bigger than you?” Bianca says, as if this should be entirely obvious.

Courtney’s brow furrows and she shakes her head slightly.

“We’re the same size.”

“I have 30 pounds on you,” Bianca counters.

“Not a chance!” Courtney shakes her head more vigorously, catching Bianca by the wrist and pulling her down. Bianca stops resisting, curling up in Courtney’s lap. She feels a bit silly and unwieldy, but when Courtney wraps her arms securely around her waist, she relaxes a bit.

Courtney peppers her neck with gentle kisses, rocking her slightly. Soon, she can feel Bianca melt down into her, and smiles against her skin. They stay that way for a few long moments before Courtney speaks again.

“So when are we gonna talk about your body dysmorphia?”

Bianca rolls her eyes heavily and pulls back to give her a sarcastic glare.

“I don’t have body dysmorphia. Just like...vanity and impossibly high standards,” she says. Then her features soften and she leans towards Courtney again, touching her cheek. “That’s why I chose the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Wait...not because of my sparkling personality?” Courtney asks.

“Nope. Sorry. I’m shallow.” Bianca flashes her dimples.

“Good to know,” Courtney says, cuddling her closer. After a beat, she adds, “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I’m shallow too,” Courtney admits with a giggle.

Bianca lets out a cackle, saying, “Well, I guess that explains things.”

“Yeah. Guess so,” Courtney sighs, leaning a head on her shoulder, surveying the kitchen again. She knows that all this organizing is not about the mess--it’s probably Bianca’s anxiety manifesting, but decides that it’s better to let her off the hook than to badger her with questions. “But uh, seriously...shouldn’t we just put the stuff away? I promise that my friends aren’t doing white glove tests inside the cabinets.”

A scowl appears on Bianca’s face. Mostly because she knows that Courtney’s right. Things had certainly gotten out of hand with the cleaning. But once she gets started, it’s hard for her to stop. It’s also hard for her to stay annoyed with Courtney’s fingers trailing up her arms.

“Listen, it could be worse,” Bianca says. “I could have started with the bedroom.” She’s been itching to get her hands on Courtney’s closets for over a month.

“What’s wrong with the bedroom?!”

“It’s a fucking mess, that’s what,” Bianca laughs.

“Does that mean you don’t like my system of dirty clothes on the floor, clean piled on the chair?” Courtney’s lashes flutter innocently.

“I do not.” The statement is simple and definitive.

Courtney smiles and winds her arms around Bianca’s shoulders. Maybe it really is just about the mess.

“Hmm...weirdo.” She nuzzles into Bianca’s cheek, then begins to press kisses along her jaw, nibbling gently on her pulse point.

After letting herself enjoy the affection for a few moments, Bianca asks, “What would you do if you just like, came home and there was a new closet with labels and a place for everything?”

“I’d probably freak out,” Courtney tells her solemnly.

“Really?”

It’s impossible for Courtney to keep a straight face. She breaks, giggling, fingers twirling into Bianca’s hair.

“No.”

Bianca keeps the laughter going, tickling her ribs, trapping her against the counter.

“I am gonna organize you so hard…” she growls.

“Is this your idea of dirty talk?”

“...Not working?”

Courtney shrugs, giggling again. “Nah, I could roll with it.”

“Perfect,” Bianca says, pressing a kiss to her jaw before releasing her.

***

They’d all been skeptical when they’d gotten Courtney’s invite earlier in the week. First of all, they’d barely seen Courtney in the two months since Bianca had moved in. And now suddenly, she wanted to host a barbecue? The queen of take-out? But Sasha was the one who convinced everyone to give her the benefit of the doubt.

She’s glad that she did - it’s a beautiful autumn day, bright and sunny with a crisp breeze, and all of her friends are there, chatting and joking like old times. And in spite of the fact that she still wonders about Bianca’s intentions, still worries about her breaking Courtney’s heart once again, she has to admit--girl can cook.

Adore is sprawled on the grass nearby, sunbathing, strings of her halter top untied. Sasha elbows Shea in the ribs and gestures to her.

“Ho! Your whole tit’s hanging out!” Shea calls, and Sasha snickers into her shoulder.

Adore turns her head towards them, lowering her sunglasses seductively.

“You’re welcome,” Adore says, smiling slyly and making no move to cover her chest.

“You’re really too much,” laughs Sasha.

“Refills, darlings?” Courtney asks, holding up a pitcher of margaritas.

“Bring it over here, baby,” Shea says. She downs what’s left in her cup and smiles sweetly.

Sasha holds out her own cup, watching her friend carefully. She’s obviously in good spirits, prancing around the backyard playing hostess, taking turns with Bianca at the grill. Sasha isn’t sure that she’s had a seat once since they arrived a few hours ago, and yet she looks relaxed and happy as can be. Sasha reaches out to take her hand.

“Sit with us,” she requests.

“I think I better go help B with dessert. And make some more drinks.” Courtney pours the last of the margaritas into Sasha’s cup.

“We’ve had enough to drink. We want you,” Sasha says.

“Speak for yourself!” Adore calls. “I want another drink!”

Courtney gives Sasha a little shrug as if to say ‘told ya so’ before heading back towards the house.

Sasha sits back in her chair, only mildly annoyed by Courtney’s perky little Stepford Wife act. Of course, Shea told her about Bianca’s pregnancy the night that she first found out. And she’s been increasingly concerned ever since. Playing house is one thing. But a baby?

In her mind, Courtney is a baby. She’s still just like the bright-eyed teenager she met over ten years ago, with an easy smile and surprisingly dry sense of humor. The whimsical dollface who falls in and out of love in a day, who breezes through life with carefree joy. She’s now so deeply involved with this woman that a baby doesn’t scare her off? Sasha wants to keep an open mind about it, wants to give her friend the benefit of the doubt, but it just doesn’t compute.

Still, as protective as she feels, she knows that she has to step back and let Courtney make her own decisions. Her own mistakes. So she tries to put it all out of her mind and just relax. It’s not easy, but soon she’s cracking up at Alexis’ story of a disastrous date last week, until the cocktails catch up and she has to go inside to use the restroom.

As Sasha walks past the kitchen, she happens to catch a glimpse of Courtney and Bianca. She stays back in the shadows, not wanting to intrude, but she’s curious. (Morbidly so, if she must admit.)

Whatever food prep they were in the middle of doing has been abandoned. Courtney sits on the table, Bianca’s hands cupping her face. They clearly have no idea that anyone else is there. It’s possible that they’re so wrapped up in each other that they’ve forgotten the guests entirely.

Bianca leans closer, whispers something that Sasha can’t make out. But she gets the gist when she sees Courtney’s face soften, her eyes shining as she gazes up at Bianca.

Bianca leans in, placing a gentle kiss against her lips, and Courtney’s eyes fall closed, her arms tightening around Bianca’s waist.

Sasha can’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling that spreads through her chest as she sees her friend so blissfully happy. And though she knows full well that the future is uncertain, something about this moment makes her rethink her reservations. Of course they’ll have their challenges--that’s a given. For starters, the idea of Courtney caring for a baby still seems crazy to her. But then she remembers that she’s no longer the 16-year-old that she met all those years ago.

Ducking out before either of them spots her, Sasha makes her way quickly to the bathroom. By the time she passes by the kitchen door again, they’re back to business, arranging a fruit platter and mixing drinks.

Sasha wanders back outside, over to Shea, wrapping an arm around her from behind.

“For the record…” Sasha murmurs under her breath. “We’re now officially supporting this relationship.”

“What relationship? Ours? It’s about time.” Shea leans back into her embrace, the act of affection contrasting her sarcastic tone.

“No. Them.” Sasha tilts her head towards the house.

“Pfft!” Shea scoffs. “Speak for yourself.”

“I’m serious. They’re in love,” Sasha says.

“Gross.”

“Get onboard,” Sasha tells her, then leans in and whispers. “You’re gonna be an aunt…”

***

This must be what heaven is, Bianca thinks. She’s laying on the sofa, head in Courtney’s lap, fingers carding gently through her hair.

She sighs contentedly, then casts her eyes upward, smiling deepening when she sees Courtney gazing down at her.

Courtney leans in slowly and Bianca licks her lips, prepared for a soft, gentle kiss. Instead, after brushing her lips against Bianca’s temple, she whispers, “Let’s go to bed.”

Bianca reaches up and tangles her hands into Courtney’s hair.

“I’m not tired,” she says, pulling her down for a kiss.

“Me neither,” Courtney tells her, lips turning up in a sexy smirk.

Oh. Bianca’s heart skips a beat and after a long, heated moment, she jumps up from the couch, suddenly full of energy.

“I’ll race you,” Bianca says.

“You’re on.”

As soon as Bianca takes off toward the bedroom, Courtney chases after her, shocked at her speed.

“How are you so fast? I’ve never seen you work out once!” Courtney calls after her.

“Running in heels is like marathon training!”

Courtney finally catches up to her in the doorway, grabbing her around the waist and tackling her onto the bed. Bianca flips over to gloat at her.

“I won,” Bianca says smugly.

“Mm-mmm.” Courtney shakes her head, curling against Bianca’s body, hand cupping her cheek. Amazed, once again, at how impossibly beautiful she is. How lucky she feels to have her in her arms. “I won.”

***

Lunchtime on set has become one of Bianca’s favorite times of day. Getting to take a break from her work to be with Courtney, hold her hand and show her much-deserved affection in front of all their coworkers. It’s second only to walking in the door, the daily elation when they’re finally alone together.

Today, she’s sitting beside Courtney at their usual lunch table, one hand resting comfortably on her thigh, tracing patterns on her skin, sneaking mischievous looks at her while they eat.

“What’s that?” Courtney asks, resting her chin on Bianca’s shoulder.

“Eggplant. You should go get some, it’s so fucking good,” Bianca says. She turns towards the catering trays, craning her neck to see the now empty tray of eggplant. “Well...it was good. Now it’s gone.”

“I want it.” Courtney’s mouth turns down in an exaggerated pout, and Bianca laughs.

“Come here.” She scoops up the last bite, cupping Courtney’s chin in her hands. She’s about to feed her when she notices Adore’s eyes on them from across the table. She knows that she must look silly, and so she decides to ham it up, making airplane noises and zooming her fork through the air.

“Give me that!” Courtney giggles, pulling her fork in closer. She takes the bite, eyes closing slightly. “Omigod, that is good! It like, melts in your mouth.”

“I know. I’m gonna ask Elaine for the recipe so that I can make it for you,” Bianca declares, watching Courtney’s eyes crinkle with happiness.

“Awwww...thanks baby.” Courtney presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Adore, who had been silent through this whole exchange, now can’t help her face from screwing up with mild disgust. She clears her throat, and Bianca turns towards her.

“What?”

“You guys realize that there’s like...other people around. Who can hear and see you...right?”

“Lucky them,” Courtney says, head still on Bianca’s shoulder.

“You’re such a ho,” Adore laughs. “Very relatable.”

Bianca is about to take issue with this when she feels the phone buzz in her pocket. She glances down, and sure enough, it’s the call she’s been dreading. She steps away to answer it, exchanging a look with Courtney that tells her exactly what’s going on.

Being with Courtney has filled Bianca with so much joy that she’s mostly been able to ignore the painful reality - that she’s still married. To him. That she’s got a long road ahead of her, most likely a difficult, contentious divorce. Especially once he finds out about the baby.

Courtney’s attempted to bring it up a few times. Mostly in the context of checking in, seeing how she’s doing. Always gentle and non-invasive. And every time, Bianca has brushed off the discussion with one word answers, quickly changing the subject. She just can’t bear for an interruption to the blissful illusion of their new live. Even with Bob, Bianca would so much rather talk about Courtney, or her conflicted feelings about motherhood, or even her non-relationship with her father - anything but Jared and the battle ahead.

This call from Asia’s office, confirming the date for their first formal arbitration, is about to shatter the elaborate fantasy in which she’s been living. It’s like a bucket of ice water to the face, only the ice is knives and the water is rubbing alcohol.

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #background sashea #sasha velour #shea coulee #adore delano #lesbian au #fluff #angst #smut #undone #stephanie #veronica #tw past emotional abuse #tw ptsd #concrit welcome

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Searching, Waiting, Looking -Ch07- (Trixya) - Pichitinha

A/N: peoples i bring to you another chapter that has already been posted to AO3 but all i can say to that is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i hope you people enjoy that, pls share this if you do, and as always find me at @pichitinha

Summary: Of course Trixie will be the decorator to Shea’s wedding - with years of experience in her bag there’s no way she’ll leave her best friend hanging. Sure, she never intended for that to become practically a full-time job as the wedding planner alongside Sasha’s crazy best friend Katya, but hey, everything for your friends, right?

Chapter 7 - We all sin, but we ain’t devils

Trixie doesn’t talk to anyone within their group of friends for a week. She turns off all of her notifications and keeps her phone on ‘do not disturb’ and does all of her work from home.

Four days into her isolation week Willam calls her on her work phone and after Trixie ignores it she calls thirteen more consecutive times until Trixie just answers it in fear that her store might be on fire.

“What?” she answers aggressively and it stuns Willam into silence. “Willam, I don’t have all day.”

“Uh, are you okay? Shea came by the store today looking for you, said you haven’t been answering calls or texts.” She actually sounds worried and Trixie is somewhat moved by that.

“So you decided to call?” she mocks. She tries not to act like a bitch, Willam has virtually done nothing - other than convince Trixie she liked Katya which then led to the whole situation and, actually, Willam is partially to blame, yes.

“You answered, didn’t you?”

“And I’m about to hang up, so bye-”

“No, no, wait!” She sounds frantic which is unusual, so Trixie listens. “I’m worried now, apparently you’ve been ignoring everyone? What’s wrong?”

Trixie sighs and drops her head on her hands which rest on top of her little office desk. She doesn’t feel like talking with anyone right now, particularly Willam over her work phone.

“I’m fine, Willam. Just need some time to myself.”

“Shea is really worried.” Willam says it like she’s trying to guilt-trip Trixie but that won’t do anything now.

“Then tell her I’m fine.”

“Why can’t you tell her?”

“Because I’m taking some time to myself, are you not listening?” This is truly the last thing Trixie wants to deal with right now.

“She says Katya is worried, too.” Willam adds as a second try on the guilt thing. It works in getting Trixie to be more assertive, but not for the reasons, or in the way, she’s sure Willam expects.

“Then you tell Shea to tell Katya that I’m none of her fucking business.” Trixie is beyond caring about what people guess or gossip or figure out. She just wants to be alone. She just wants to not talk or worry or think about Katya.

If Katya didn’t care before then she shouldn’t care now.

“Oh,” Getting Willam to not know what to say is not an easy feat so it tells loads about how Trixie’s acting. “Uh… apparently she said there are wedding things to finish?”

“Well, let her know Katya is free from duty, I’ve got it from here.”

“Trixie-”

“No offense, Willam, but I’m done talking. I’m alive and fine and everyone can stop worrying. Shea’s wedding will happen as promised and I don’t need anymore help. Bye.” And with that she hangs up, blocks WIllam’s contact because she can’t turn off her work phone but refuses to deal with this again.

She knows she should be more mature about this, knows that she should probably talk to someone about it, anyone, should definitely talk to Shea regardless - her wedding is fast approaching and suddenly her planners aren’t speaking to each other or to her. And maybe she should also talk to Katya, except she tried it, that day, gave Katya the opportunity to explain what the fuckand she didn’t, she just brushed Trixie off as if she’d been a nameless conquest in a random bar, unimportant, not good enough for a fucking goodbye.

So she takes a time off, because she deserves it, because she opened her heart for the first in a long while and it lead exactly where she thought it would: heartbreak.

Still, Trixie refuses resolutely to cry about Katya. She hasn’t cried about a girl in a long time and she simply won’t let Katya of all people break that streak, someone she realized she had feelings for a mere hours before being rejected. And Trixie knows that if she tries to tell this to any friend she’ll cry, because she can feel the tears coming up in her throat whenever she thinks about it, but she won’t do it. She won’t.

Once it’s been exactly eight days in complete isolation after that night she goes to her store. She’s been working like crazy, finding things to do that shouldn’t even be her responsibility, just to keep herself busy, but all she could do from home is done and now she needs to be out and to visit some places in person and she really needs to go to her store because she can’t trust Willam to handle it for her, even if she’s currently working everyday out of pity or whatever for Trixie, she doesn’t know everything there is to know about the place and she can’t make business decisions.

Willam is there when she arrives and she smiles worriedly at Trixie as soon as she opens the door.

“Trixie!”

“Hi,” she replies humorlessly as she walks to the back.

“I’ve got a note for you?” Willam inquires rather than informs as she follows her and Trixie rolls her eyes.

“I’m not gonna bite you, Willam, I’m just in a bad mood.”

“For a week straight?” Her eyebrows are raised impossibly high and she’s grasping a piece of paper in her hand.

“Just give me the note, I have to leave in a few to go to the caterer.”

Willam opens her mouth like she had more to say, but she just closes it and nods as she hands her the paper and exits to the front again in hurried steps.

Trixie unfolds the little square and she immediately recognizes Katya’s handwriting on it.

I need to discuss a few things about the wedding, can you please call me?

She crumples the paper and tries to throw it in the trash - she misses spectacularly, has never had good aim, but ignores the paper on the floor to pick up her phone instead.

She searches for Katya’s number, types it into a new contact on her work phone, and deletes it from her personal one.

Trixie: Hi, it’s Trixie. This is my work phone. Don’t worry about the wedding, I’ve got it all covered.

It doesn’t take long for a reply to come.

Katya: trixie, hi. we said we’d do this together, i don’t think it’s fair to dump it on you

Trixie tries not to notice how she’s still using Trixie which she never did in texts. It doesn’t matter if she does, it shouldn’t matter, not now.

Katya: also are you okay? you’ve been on radio silence

Trixie laughs bitterly at the second message. Is she okay? What kind of bullshit?

Trixie: I would prefer to do it by myself anyway. Thanks.

She doesn’t answer her question, there’s no point to it. What would she say anyway? Everything is fine except for the fact that I’m pathetic and always fall for the wrong people, you included?

Katya. oh. ok. uhm… i have a few ideas i didn’t have time to share

Katya: and seriously how are you?

She really doesn’t have the energy for this.

Trixie: Share them with Shea, ask her to call my assistant if she likes it.

Katya starts typing several times before the actually sends something.

Katya: right. I also have a few questions about the decoration for the day? as the photographer and all

Trixie: I’ll send you the detailed decoration plan.

There are no new messages for a few minutes and Trixie thinks she’s given up but then she sends another one.

Katya: trixie, pls, can we just talk?

Funny. Now she wants to talk.

Trixie: We’ve cleared up everything about the wedding, I don’t know what more there could be for us to talk about.

Katya: can we please be adults about it? you’re blowing this out of proportion

Right. It’s Trixie’s fault, now. She can’t even find a proper answer for that.

Trixie: I’ll send you the plan via email. You can reply there if you have any questions.

Katya doesn’t reply anymore. Hopefully she’s taken the hint.

A couple of days later Shea knocks on her door with such force that Trixie truly believes it’ll break off the hinges if it keeps going, and by Shea’s stern voice as she says open this door right now, Trixie, I know you’re in there, it doesn’t look like she’ll stop any time soon.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming, stop assaulting my door, geez.” She opens it forcefully, refuses to be intimidated in her own home, but Shea looks like she means business, her face weirdly serious.

“I wouldn’t need to harrass you here if you answered your damn phone.”

She walks past her without being properly invited in - to be fair they are way past that - and she actually looks mad. She reaches the end of the couch and turns around, stares down at Trixie and she actually cowers a little under it.

“I’ve been busy,” she replies with a dismissive shrug, averts her gaze from Shea’s.

“Too busy to answer texts of are you alive from your best friends? For over a week? Kim called me thinking you had drowned yourself in your own bathtub or slipped in the kitchen and hit your head.”

Trixie crosses her arms then, would feel guiltier if it wasn’t for the ridiculousness of Kim’s concerns but still feels a little bit of guilt anyway and she refuses to be the one to blame for this. She’s allowed time out when she’s hurt, she’s allowed time to make sense of herself and the mess that her life is right now.

“I told Willam I was fine and asked her to pass the message.”

Shea doesn’t change her posture, maintains her ground and her height over Trixie. “Right, because hearing from Willam that she says she’s fine but she sure ain’t really reassured me.”

Trixie huffs with an eye roll. Damn Willam.

“I am fine.”

“Don’t play with me, I’ve known you for like seven years.”

They stay silent then, both standing up and staring at each other, daring. But Trixie is tired and Shea is one of the few people she feels safe to open up to, especially now after all of her discoveries about herself. Her shoulders sag.

Shea sighs and rolls her eyes affectionately. “Come here,” she offers opening her arms and Trixie marches into the hug.

She doesn’t cry but she holds on for dear life, feels her breathing getting heavier. It’s almost funny that unlike any of her expectations for the past couple of years she’s practically crying on Shea’s shoulders about someone else. She doesn’t let go until Shea is pulling away and dragging her to the couch.

“Wanna tell me?”

Trixie actually shakes her head. “Not really.”

Shea squints her eyes in warning, “Trixie.”

Trixie looks away at her tone of voice. Honestly at this point she wouldn’t mind talking about it, but she doesn’t know what to say, where to start. How does she explain the whole situation to Shea?

How does she explain how much Katya means after so little time, after knowingit for so little? How does she explain to Shea the importance of Katya without talking about her previous feelings? She can’t. And she doesn’t know if she wants to go there, not less than two months away from Shea’s wedding.

“Trixie,” Shea insists again, more concerned than anything else.

“I’m thinking about where to start, just give me a damn second.”

Shea does, then, doesn’t move an inch for as long as Trixie’s thinking which in her head feels like it’s a really long time. She knows Shea is growing more and more curious, probably concerned too, and she can’t really look at her as the words start happening.

“I like Katya,” she admits rather rapidly and quietly, like she’s embarrassed of saying that out loud.

Shea says nothing and when Trixie glances at her her eyebrows are raised as if she’s saying girl, please.

“I hope there’s more to it because that’s hardly news to anybody, Trixie.”

Trixie nods slightly, looks away again and bites very lightly into her bottom lip in a futile attempt to hide the nervous act from Shea. She tries not to be offended by her completely lack of shock, there are more important matters at hand.

“We… we slept together. We left after your bachelorette party and came back here.”

That jerks a real reaction out Shea, who moves in shock until she’s kneeling on the couch, eyes fixated on Trixie’s face which is still not facing her, but rather the turned off TV.

“You what?” Trixie’s not sure if it’s a shocked what or a question what but either way she says nothing. Shea keeps pushing. “Trixie, oh my god, that’s incredible. God she must have been so happy! And you too, oh my god, I can’t believe you finally opened up again! Was it amazing? It was, right, she does yoga?”

Trixie laughs through her nose, humorlessly, and from the corner of her eye she can see Shea’s figure diminishing. She’s definitely confused and Trixie doesn’t blame her - she is confused, too, still.

“It certainly was before she left and said it meant nothing.”

Shea retreats as if she’s punched. “Wait, what? She said what? Katya? OurKatya?”

Trixie shrugs. “Certainly not mine in any way.”

“That… that makes no sense.”

“Well, you tell her that, then, because it’s what happened. She made that clear and went as far as saying I was overreacting.” She stops to take a breath. “It looked like she wanted something but I clearly knew her less than I thought.”

“Trixie, I’ve known her almost as long as I’ve known Sasha, this is…”

“What happened. You probably don’t know her that well, either.”

“No, you don’t get it. Trixie, she won’t shut up about you since we introduced you guys.” Trixie snorts bitterly. “No, I’m serious. Remember when you guys went over Sasha to show us that other wedding? Katya had been there for like half an hour blabbering about you and asking if you were single and if you were for sure a lesbian and if we thought you would be interested and- She was invested.”

It’s lovely that Shea thinks that this is in any way helpful, that this is a good time to tell her that.

“Something clearly changed. And maybe I’m overreacting but I don’t care, I don’t want to talk to her again. She knew I’m not interested in one-night stands.”

Shea is quiet, considering. She seems truly lost and it only hurts Trixie further - she doesn’t need any reminders that things went wrong so fast.

“Tell me what happened.”

“We slept together and she bailed. Not sure what part you’re not grasping,” Trixie snaps.

“Trixie, come on. There has to be more to the story.”

“But there isn’t. That’s it. We’re in the club, I realize I like her, we come back here, we have a great time, I wake up and she’s gone. That’s the whole gist.”

“You realized you like her in the club?” Shea’s looking at her like she’s stupid - as if she needs that right now.

Trixie shifts a little on the couch, uncomfortable. That may not have been the best of scenarios but she knows what she feels. Not that it matters now, anyway.

“Yes, okay? Things were happening - actually, scratch that, things have been happening and I finally got a moment to myself to think and to feel, and I like her. I-I like her,” she admits it again, defeated, even though she’s said so already and by the way it went Shea had not been surprised at all.

“Are you sure?”

“What kind of question is that?” It’s like she’s under investigation here even though she’s the victim. “You said yourself everyone knows it already.”

“I know but I want to know, now, if you are certain of it. I just want to hear you say it.”

Trixie looks at Shea, meets her eyes to make her confession more meaningful and also so Shea will perhaps see how that’s doing the very opposite of helping her.

She falters for a second before she opens her mouth. She’s never thought she’d look into Shea’s eyes to admit she likes someone else. But she does. She hates that she does so right now, but she does.

“Yes. I am sure. Which is not ideal given the circumstances so I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”

“I just want to see if this is how you feel sober.”

Trixie squints. It takes her a moment.

“Are you saying any of this is my fault for being drunk? What bullshit is this?”

Shea shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all, we went out to drink, we were all drunk, she was drunk. What I’m saying is that perhaps confessing to Katya that you like her while drunk might not have been the best move.”

Trixie is quiet for a second. “I didn’t exactly confess.”

“Trixie-”

“Listen, no offense but it’s none of your business how it all went down, all it matters is that I was serious and certain, she knows that. You said yourself, she was drunk too, why is this on me?”

“It’s not on you, I’m just trying to understand. I know Katya, Trixie, I know that there is something here that I’m not seeing - that possibly you are not seeing.”

“How could there be anything between immediately going to sleep after fucking and waking up the next day? You think I sleepwalked and sleep-fucked things up?”

Shea considers. “Maybe. That’s what I’m trying to figure out-”

Trixie just gets up, exasperated. “You know what, this was a bad idea. I don’t know why you’re trying to blame me for Katya sleeping with me with no intentions of sticking around when she knows that’s not my thing and then fucking leaving without an explanation. You keep insisting you know Katya, well, fuck off, you’re supposed to know me better! And to fucking care about me, too!”

Trixie knows she’s unleashing anger at Shea that’s aimed at someone else, but she can’t help it, because she’s mad and sad and Shea is supposed to be her best friend, Shea is supposed to be a shoulder to cry on, not this. Her eyes are filled with tears already and she’s trying really hard not to let them fall.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” Shea is by her side and she doesn’t even notice, only when she hugs her again and Trixie is too tired to fight it, so she hugs her back.

She cries, finally, even though she really doesn’t want to. She’s choking on these tears that she won’t let out and also on the confusion because, yes, Shea is right, that truly doesn’t sound like something Katya would do and she doesn’t get it.

They break apart when Trixie practically runs out of tears, she’s sure her eyes are red and puffy and she doesn’t care, she just wants to go back to being able to bottle her emotions up because this is simply too much. But now that she’s let herself feel again, apparently that’s how it’s gonna go, always feeling. She hates it.

“I didn’t know you liked her so much, I’m sorry.” Shea says as she tries to make Trixie sit down again, on the same part on the couch that she was before.

Trixie doesn’t even know how much she likes Katya - is liking someone even quantifiable? - what she does know is that this is new to her, it’s the first time it’s happened in ages, and it’s the first time she’s let herself actually feel things in a long time.

And this is where it takes her.

Trixie looks at Shea, her expression compassionate and worried, maybe a bit confused, and she gulps and takes a deep breath.

“This is the first time I’ve really liked someone since…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, regrets having started it. It seemed like a good idea but now that the words started leaving her mouth, she wants to take them back and lock them up again.

“Since what? Clara?”

Trixie only ever dated Clara because she was tired of being lonely, but by that point she’d already been more than aware of her feelings for Shea, she had already been in the bury this deep and never look at it again stage. Complete denial and willing it to cease.

She shakes her head, closes her eyes and covers them with her hands in an attempt to protect herself.

“I never felt anything like this for Clara.”

“What? Then who?”

She takes a deep breath, presses her eyes closed with more force and pushes her fingertips over her eyelids, making patterns that sting a little.

“You,” she whispers.

It’s quiet, then. So quiet that Trixie is convinced - or wants to convince herself - that Shea didn’t hear and it’ll be like she didn’t potentially ruin their friendship.

But then, she hears shuffling. She opens her eyes in desperation and stands up, Shea is probably leaving too because she’s an idiot and somehow is ruining everything. Her eyes take a while to adjust again to the light and to stop with the colored patterns it had been making and she stumbles a bit. Shea holds her pulse, still on the couch.

“Woah, calm down.”

“Sorry,” she sits down again, blinks a few more times before she can open her eyes completely. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I think we’re past that. But I am a bit stunned, you’ll have to give me a moment.”

“No, of course, I didn’t mean-” she stops talking, doesn’t know where she is going. Why did she say anything in the first place? “My feelings for you started a long time ago. But I knew it wasn’t gonna happen and it was just a silly crush and then you met Sasha and she’s great… I thought I had gotten over it, but these things linger, I guess, so I just pretended it never happened and I guess I got used to pretending.”

She’s oversharing, probably, Shea must be so uncomfortable hearing her best friend saying she used to like her so close to her wedding. But she’s can’t stop because this is relevant to her and her situation, having liked Shea makes all of her current feelings more intense and confusing and in a way important. Like it or not, liking Shea had been a part of her. She’s not even sure for how long that lasted, but it did have a say in a lot of her decisions over the years. Particularly one.

“That’s why I didn’t want to be the maid of honor.” She confesses, knows that Shea probably knows it now but would like to hear it anyway. “Don’t get me wrong, I am so happy for you, I really am, I’ve been from the moment you told me, I just- I thought it’d be easier to not be a part of the ceremony? Does that make sense?”

“Yes, of course it does-”

“And,” Shea has more to say but Trixie’s not finished so she just rambles on.“ And that’s probably why it took me so long to realize I liked- liked Katya. Because I liked you and then I was very focused on not liking you or at least not thinking about it and somewhere along the way you became Katya and I missedit and it doesn’t matter anyway because she doesn’t care and I’m always falling for the wrong person, god-”

She lets her head fall to her hands again, sniffs twice trying not to cry.

Shea slides along the couch until she’s by her side, places her hands on her shoulders in a comforting manner.

“Trixie, just breathe, okay. Look at me.”

She tries taking deep breaths. It takes her a while, but she raises her head again and looks at Shea. There’s nothing but understanding in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she feels she has to say it, even if she never decided to like Shea in the first place - would rather she hadn’t at all.

Shea just shakes her head. “For what? I’m sorry I didn’t notice it.”

Trixie shakes her head. “It would only have made things worse.”

“Maybe. But I thought I knew you enough to not let something so big fall to the sides.”

Trixie shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“And I’m sorry Katya did what she did.”

Trixie nods, her heart stings. “Yeah, me too.”

“Did you tell her?”

“What?”

“About me?”

“Oh. No.” She shakes her vehemently. “No way.”

“That’s good, you usually get really honest and personal when you drink.”

Trixie considers it because it’s true, she does, that’s why she always stops on her very well known limit. She shrugs sheepishly. “There wasn’t a lot of talking.”

Shea nods and wrinkles her nose, but then her expression quickly shits to something as close to uncertainty as it could get with Shea and her usual confidence levels. “I’m asking because- well, I’m not trying to make excuses for Katya, okay? But hear me out.”

Trixie just lets her shoulders drop. She doesn’t really want to hear it but might as well get it all out now. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Katya dated her college girlfriend for like five years. From what Sasha told me she went out of her way to make this over the top proposal that she actually hated because the girl loved this kind of thing. They got a venue, a band, dresses. They had everything.”

Trixie is not breathing in anticipation from what Shea is gonna say, from what she said already. This doesn’t match the Katya that doesn’t believe in forever. Or maybe it does - things change, Katya had said.

“The girl left, like, three days before the ceremony. I don’t know the details but apparently she let Katya know with a note on the fridge or something. And I think she left for an old girlfriend, which - they dated for five years so that’s- you know.”

Trixie can barely blink. “I-”

“I’m not defending her or pretending I know what happened. But Katya’s been through some shit with relationships. And she definitely knew she liked you a lot sooner than you did, because she would talk about you all the time with Sasha and anyone willing to listen, really. So, I don’t know, if anything in what you said or did indicated that you weren’t truly invested or that you were hung-up on someone else - I guess I just see where she’s coming from, if that’s the case.”

Trixie feels sick all over again, thinks about Katya planning to marry someone and being practically left at the altar because three days is basically that. She thinks about how she said that she used to believe in forever but didn’t anymore, thinks about how she’d once said that work hadn’t always been her priority but it suddenly was.

Things change.

Her heart aches for Katya, she tries to imagine what she’d do in a situation like that and comes up empty. But her heart also aches for herself, still. She sympathizes with Katya but that’s not an excuse - being hurt is not a good reason to hurt someone else.

“Maybe you should talk to her?” Shea looks hopeful and Trixie is touched by her hope even if possibly unfounded.

“I tried talking to her after she left, she didn’t have anything to say. If I did anything she should have told me then.”

“She should,” Shea agrees with a nod of her head. “I’m not saying she’s right. But maybe she’s had time to think it over? Maybe she feels bad now.”

“She texted me about work a few days ago. She doesn’t.”

“Trixie,” Shea insists and Trixie looks at her. “Since when has being proud helped you in any way?”

It hasn’t. She’s too proud for her own good, it always gets in her way and she knows it.

“I shouldn’t have to be the one to reach out.”

“Didn’t you say she texted you?”

“She did but it’s different-”

“Okay, doesn’t matter. Just do it for you, Trixie. Whatever happens isn’t it best if you at least know what went down?”

Trixie hates when other people are right and she’s wrong.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

For the rest of the evening and pretty much all of the next day she tries not to think about Katya, but her mind can’t get over what she heard from Shea.

She obviously knows now why Katya not liking marriage or forever bothers her - not that she thinks about marrying Katya, but she can’t picture herself getting involved with someone that doesn’t have an interest at least in the general idea of building a life together. And, sure, that doesn’t matter now, but it makes sense of her feelings.

But now it also makes sense how Katya feels. She finds herself immersed in her mind from time to time during the day, building that scenery in her mind. She pictures herself dating, her whole life planned in front of her - happy - and then she comes home to find a note on the refrigerator telling her the wedding that was to happen in three days is cancelled and her partner is gone, off to build the life you both imagined with someone else.

A lump forms in her throat at the fake situation she sees herself in. She can’t really know what Katya must have felt, but she can sort of picture it and her heart aches.

She wants to be just as mad as she was before, but it’s hard. She still doesn’t know what happened for things to escalate so quickly or why Katya acted like she did out of the blue, why she would send texts like the ones she sent, but she can put herself in Katya’s shoes, even if from years ago, and imagine the kind of feelings and fears that still linger from that. She knows really well how past experiences can influence a person.

She hasn’t checked her work email since she’s sent Katya the decoration plans in fear that she would have replied, but now she hopes that here’s any kind of contact from her, so she checks it and just as expected there’s a new one from Katya. She hovers on the mousepad for a few seconds before clicking on it.

Trixie,

I have some questions regarding the flower colors on the entrance area, I was thinking about using that as an official place for guests to take pictures with their own phones. Can you comment on the attached graph?

Thank you,

Katya Zamolodchikova.

She reads it over and over, knows she brought it upon herself that Katya is all serious and business after the texts she had sent, but that was then and this is now. She doesn’t want to feel bad but she does.

Does Katya feel bad? Would she have apologized if Trixie had agreed to talk to her?

She’ll probably regrets this, but she picks up her phone and opens up the text chain she has with Katya, even if now it only displays her number as opposed to her name. The last text is still Katya’s after that night. She does her best not to read it again.

Trixie: hey

Trixie: i can’t open your attachment

It’s a lie, but she can’t find another reason to send her a text. She isn’t sure herself why she’s doing it, except she can’t stop thinking about Katya left at the altar in a beautiful wedding dress - even if that never happened.

Katya: hi

Katya: didn’t expect a text from you

Katya: let me check the file, i’ll send it again

Trixie bites her lower lip, trying to figure out how to keep this going, how to say what she wants to say when she doesn’t know what that is yet.

Trixie: sorry if i was rude the other day

She sends it before she can think it over. Part of her thinks she shouldn’t apologize for anything, she still doesn’t think she did anything wrong even if maybe she overreacted a little - she isn’t the first and won’t be the last adult to casually sleep with a friend. Even if that wasn’t the original goal.

Katya: it’s ok

Katya: i know why you did it

Katya: i’m sorry too

Katya: i hope you know i’m sorry

Katya: things aren’t b&w but either way i didn’t react properly

Katya: and this makes no sense to you but just know that i’m sorry

It makes more sense than Katya could know - Trixie knows more than Katya thinks she does. For some reason Trixie keeps trying to figure out Katya’s crying face, how she would look like once she got home and saw the note that she’d been abandoned after five years and days away from a wedding. She can’t picture it, can’t replace Katya’s usual smile with tears.

Trixie: do you wanna meet up tomorrow?

Trixie: to talk about the wedding?

Trixie: email will probably be more work than it’s worth it

She waits patiently for Katya’s reply, finds herself hopeful for the chance to see her. Maybe this is herself shooting herself in the foot, but Shea was right, Trixie owes to herself to talk about this, if Katya is willing.

Katya: i’d love that

Katya: maybe we can talk about more than just the wedding?

Katya: at that corner café?

Trixie knows the one, it’s the same one they went that first day when they shared their work experiences.

She doesn’t acknowledge the other question, just confirms quickly.

Trixie: see you there at 10

Katya: see ya

Guess Trixie will figure out what went down. Maybe they’ll manage to somehow fix their friendship, at least. Or maybe they’ll officially cut ties.

Trixie doesn’t know which option leaves her more helpless.

#pichitinha #trixya #searching waiting looking #romance #lesbian au #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #i don't really need to leave a tag anymore you know i love this and you - tiff #rpdr fanfiction #background sashea

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Searching, Waiting, Looking -Ch05- (Trixya) - Pichitinha

A/N: hi folks! My muse has been visiting me lately so this chapter came faster than expected – and I have half of the next one already! We’re past of the middle of the story with this one so I do hope you enjoy it and stay with me until the ending! As usual I am @pichitinha here and this can be read on AO3. Let me know if you liked it!

Chapter 5 - We all talk, but we don’t listen

One good thing had come out of Pearl’s visit: she’s now the official - free - DJ for the wedding. She’d been meaning to offer for a long time, apparently, but wanted it to be a secret from Shea and Sasha. Trixie’s heart is twice as big as Pearl promises she knows she’s good and that she really wants to give this to them so she obviously says yes. By the look on Katya’s face she’s in awe too.

Finding a DJ is then instantly crossed off Trixie’s list and even if she didn’t really put any effort in the task being completed, she feels a sense of accomplishment that is really wonderful. One by one the list is getting smaller and Trixie is more and more convinced that they’ll really manage to throw the perfect wedding. She really, really hopes they do.

She and Katya also manage to rearrange their schedules so that they’re mostly free at the same time for the next month or so which will leave them with enough time to do all of the initial appointments they had planned before Katya has to travel to Boston for a few days for her nephew’s first birthday. Trixie’s hoping to get a lot of things done by then, she doesn’t feel right at the idea of planning and doing things by herself while Katya is away.

That could be because she has way more fun when Katya is with her for these tasks, but mostly, she tells herself, it’s because they’re a team.

“So! Cake tasting!” Katya greets her as she opens the passenger door and joins her in the car, a wide grin on her cherry lips.

“Wrong, gift listing.”

“Ugh,” Katya fakes annoyance. “Can we put extravagant weird things on the list?”

Trixie looks at her briefly, considers her offer. “One weird item each and that’s it.”

“Yes! I knew you were fun!”

“Excuse me, I have been nothing but fun with you since we met.”

Katya looks at her then, a glint of something Trixie can’t recognize in her eyes although she can feel it’s warm, and nods. “That’s true, you have.”

Trixie blushes despite herself, focuses back on the road and they drive in silence for the next ten or so minutes except for the radio playing lowly.

“Are you excited for Boston?” Trixie asks when she feels that the silence has extended too long, even if it’s a comfortable one.

“Oh my god, you don’t even know! My nephew is the cutest thing, I can’t wait to smush him again. And mom always makes the most ridiculous parties unnecessarily, there’ll be more food than our family needs for like a month much less one afternoon. But it’s great, it’ll be great. I really miss them.”

Trixie smiles fondly, can feel the happiness and love in Katya’s voice as she speaks of her family, but feels something pulling inside her at the same time. She doesn’t want to, but it’s hard. “I’m happy for you. If you need tips for decorating, I’m your gal.”

Katya nods smiling. “I might take you up to that. You’d be horrified at my sister’s decorating skills.”

Trixie merely hums and smiles in response and even though she’s looking forward because they’re almost at the first store they’re supposed to go, she can feel Katya’s gaze strongly on her.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing. You just seem a bit down.”

Trixie shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t mean to sound… well, like I’m gonna sound, but I wish I had a family like yours.”

“How so?”

“I get along with them, don’t get me wrong. Especially now that I live away my relationship with my mom is always improving, you know, now that I’m no longer under her wings. But my childhood wasn’t exactly picture perfect and certain things just remain broken, I guess.” She sighs as she stops the car, looks earnestly at Katya. “That sounded more poetic than I meant it to. I’m just saying that as good as things are now, we’ll probably never be a close, happy family.”

Katya knits her eyebrows together. “My family has issues, too, Trixie.”

“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean- sorry.” She sighs again, closes her eyes forcefully. “I always get a bit more sensitive on the subject this time of the year. I’m sorry.”

Katya motions to her wrist, stops her from opening the door of the car. “Something in particular?”

Trixie gulps, sees the worry and questions in Katya’s eyes and decides that she’s way past pretending she can’t - or doesn’t feel like - telling things to Katya. “My dad left around this time when I was like eight. And my step-dad moved into our house around the same time a year later. None of these memories are particularly good.”

Katya’s mouth falls agape and Trixie feels bad for ever having said anything. It’s been almost twenty years, these things should resurface as quickly as they still do. She’s probably just ruined a perfectly fine outing with a friend.

“Trixie. I had no idea, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” she downplays it, even though it sort of isn’t.

“No, it’s- it’s tough. I’m sorry you went through that.” She looks positively upset and Trixie hates herself a bit for deflating Katya so much when she’d been so excited about her trip home.

“It’s been a long time. My dad wasn’t a great man and my step-dad moved away a few years later, my mom recovered, we all managed to pick up our financial situation. All in all it’s been good. I promise.”

She isn’t exactly lying. They are all better now, good. Happy even. Or almost there, as Trixie tells herself.

“Okay.” Katya nods, apparently okay with ending the discussion. They exit the car and enter the antique store that Sasha had provided the address for. Trixie is absolutely not surprised at Sasha’s first choice of gift store and given Katya’s face neither is she - although she herself looks more excited to be in such a place than anything else.

“We’re not here to buy anything for us, this is gift listing.” Trixie tells her as Katya picks up one, two, three useless trinkets with wide eyes, enamored with the place.

“Not even one?” She asks with a pout, resembling a child.

“I’ll give you ten minutes once we finish running through their list,” Trixie offers as she shows Katya the paper she has with Sasha’s handwriting detailing what is it they expect from that store. It’s just a few things, the whole thing should take less than half an hour, so Trixie’s happy to let Katya indulge herself for a little while afterwards. She looks cute with the crinkles around her eyes as she smiles.

They move to the register to understand how the whole “making a list” works and true to Trixie’s expectation it takes them twenty minutes once she gives the woman behind the register her list. Despite the old nature of the store they have a website and they setup sheaandsasha.goodoldstuff.com and promise the list will be available there by the end of the day.

Katya takes fifteen minutes to choose what she wants to buy - which ends up being lots, several small useless trinkets that Trixie rolls her eyes at but smiles regardless, and soon they’re heading to the second store which turns out to be a regular place with proper house and kitchenware even though the third place is also weird, but the rest of the day goes by smoothly, no more mentions of either of their families or negative pasts.

Trixie still allows them to include an extravagant weird item to the final gift list though, on the last store, and somehow both she and Katya manage to separately choose two stupid decoration masks - she picks up a jason one and Katya a phantom of the opera. She truly hopes someone buys them, and knowing their friends, they probably will.

“How many flavors are we in for?” Shea asks when the four of them enter the fancy dessert store which Trixie has assured them is not as expensive as it looks.

“As many as you’d like and can handle. Their menu has around a hundred.”

“A hundred it is,” Katya declares moving forward, passing all of them at the door.

“You don’t even care for cake,” Sasha chimes in and Trixie quickly turns her head at that.

“You don’t like cake?” she inquires shocked.

Katya shrugs. “I don’t really care for sweets.”

“What?” How does Trixie not know that yet?

“Just not really my thing. I’m excited for the cake though, it’s their wedding cake and I’m gonna have a piece at the reception and it’s gonna be great.”

“How can you not like sweets?” Trixie asks still in shock as they all sit down, Katya by her side at the square table.

“Most importantly why did you come to the cake tasting?” Shea asks with a playful glint in her eyes.

“Because it’s a wedding thing, I’m the planner. I had to come.”

“False,” Sasha clarifies looking at the extensive menu.

“Sort of true actually, Trannika asked me to make sure Shea wouldn’t buy a weird flavor.”

“That was one time!”

“You bought her a coconut cake for her birthday. She’s allergic!”

Shea rolls her eyes and grabs the menu. “Fine. But there’ll be-”

“No raisins!” Trixie and Sasha say together and then they all dissolve into laughter.

“I like raisins,” Katya ends up confessing.

Trixie just groans as Shea high fives her.

They go through the menu until they’re happy with asking samples for about fifteen flavors which Trixie already thinks it’s too much but will try them nonetheless.

“So, how are things going?” Sasha asks both of them when they’re settled and waiting for the cakes.

“Good! We did the gift listing already and I started on the decorations and we’re-”

Sasha interrupts her quickly. “I meant with your lives, the wedding is not the most important thing.”

Trixie blinks then, surprised. The wedding sort of is her primary thing at the moment. And it’s not even hers.

“I am making myself a wonderful skirt with a shiny black fabric embedded with small red demonic eyes, it’ll be amazing,” Katya replies easily through Trixie’s haze, seems delighted at the horrible piece of clothing she’ll gift herself.

“It’ll be hideous, you mean,” Trixie offers. She looks to the other side of the table and fake-whispers as if it’s a secret. “I was with her when she bought the fabric, it’s truly horrendous.”

Shea raises her eyebrow and Trixie hopes for her to just not. Shea really ought to quit.

“Where did you guys buy it?”

Oh no.

“This fabric store really, really far away that Trixie took me to kill me before she changed her mind.”

She rolls her eyes and hopes Shea will let it go. “I was not gonna kill you, it’s just my favorite store and it happens to be out of town.”

Shea does not let it go. “You took her to Javi’s?” Her tone is extremely surprised.

“I did.”

“Why the surprise?” Katya asks confused.

“Because apparently it’s her favorite store and she never takes anyone there.” Shea answers somewhat smugly and Trixie would really love for her to shut up.

Katya looks at her, then, questioning but smiling, and she’s about to try to reply when thankfully about three waiters appear with several samples of cakes and glasses of water on several different plates.

They take their time explaining the flavors and then they’re supposed to try all of them getting sips of water - carbonated, which Trixie hates - in between to clean their palate and it pretty much kills any conversation they might try to have while there.

When they’re finished and Shea and Sasha agree on a cake - which Trixie and Katya are happy to sign off on as something their guests won’t want to kill them over - the sun is setting and they are fuller than they expected to be.

“Do you guys wanna come over and have some wine to try to push the cake down?” Katya offers as they walk to her car parked a couple of blocks away.

“Yes!” Trixie agrees immediately, as she had never been to Katya’s place and was really curious about it, but as she speaks she can also hear the other’s voices.

“That’s not how your stomach works,” Sasha says.

“We can’t,” Shea refuses.

“That’s fine. You coming, Trix? Or reschedule?”

Shea gives her a look and she considers how much she wants to see Katya’s apartment versus how much bullshit she’s willing to take from Shea.

“Reschedule? I probably shouldn’t be getting drunk today anyway, I’ve got an early appointment tomorrow.”

“That’s smart and responsible, how are we friends?”

They all laugh and gather inside Katya’s car and one by one she drops each at their place - Sasha, Shea and Trixie, as apparently Trixie lives the closest to her. It’s only when Trixie’s inside her apartment that she sees the text that Shea sent her, which considering the time she did as soon as she herself got home.

Shea: you know i’ll stop teasing if it’ll get you to do something, right?

She sighs and locks her phone again. The last thing she wants is advice from Shea.

If there’s one thing Trixie’s come to not expect, is to see Willam actually in the store, working, but that’s what greets her when she goes to work one morning a week or so later.

“Willam?” She’s partially sure her brain is making Willam up but to be honest why would her brain even bother?

“Hey,” Willam greets dismissively from where she’s sat, flipping nonchalantly through an old decor magazine.

“What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” she replies as if it’s obvious, doesn’t look at Trixie once.

Technically yes, she does work there. But that’s more of an honorary title than a proper job - Willam got herself a gigantic insurance check a few years ago after a car accident that left her completely unscathered except for a chip on one of her Louboutins and she hasn’t really worked since. She hangs out with Trixie at weddings a lot and pretends to help about as much as she actually does but mostly she goes for the free booze. Trixie doesn’t mind, usually, Willam is a fun person to have around and at the very least it grants her some company or someone to carry stuff around. Plus Trixie doesn’t have to pay her so that’s great.

“Right. I’m afraid I don’t have any tasks for you to do today, though.”

Willam gets bored, from time to time, and hunts down things to pass her time. Trixie usually asks her to do something very boring that she keeps putting off but she’s been so busy lately she can’t even think about anything to ask.

“Don’t you have to go anywhere? I can drive. I love driving.”

Willam hates driving and that’s a testament to how bored she is at the moment.

“Not really. I do have some phone calls to make, though? There’s that office party tomorrow and I need to make sure the flowers and other things I have arranged are okay.”

“Yeah, alright. Ain’t got nothing better to do anyway.”

Willam settles down with Trixie’s work phone and her little planner where the numbers and the arrangements are written and Trixie shuts her brain off to finish some manual decorations she’d stupidly decided to do.

She only comes out of the stupor when she clearly hears Willam’s voice say, “Hi Katya, this is Willam, Trixie’s assistant - sometimes out, sometimes in the bedroom. Who would you be?”

“Willam!” She’s out of her chair in a second, bumps her hip on the counter Willam is perched on and hisses for one second before grabbing the phone. “Are you insane?” She puts the phone to her ear to apologize to Katya but it’s silent.

“I didn’t call her, you idiot. I did see her name on your planner a lot though. Who is she? Are you finally getting some?”

“No,” she denies firmly, grabs her plannerfrom Willam’s hands. “Why are you snooping around? All you needed was on one page.”

“I finished and I was bored. Gossip with me, please, I need entertainment.”

Trixie sighs heavily. Why is it that everyone just assumes she’s banging Katya? Willam hasn’t even seen her. What the fuck.

“There’s no gossip or entertainment. She’s Sasha’s best friend, the one I’m planning their wedding with.”

“And you wanna bang her,” Willam concludes.

“No! Will you- why does everyone keep saying that? We’re friends.”

Willam shrugs. “You can fuck your friends, I do it all the time.”

“Well good for you but I don’t want to fuck her, so.”

“Then why does everybody say you do?”

Trixie would love to know that herself. “Beats me.”

“Do you guys talk a lot?”

Trixie doesn’t want to entertain Willam’s theories but she also thinks that maybe explaining this once and for all and making someone believe it would help her general situation, so she keeps talking.

“I mean, yeah. There’s lots of wedding stuff to take care of.”

Willam doesn’t buy it. “Do you only talk about the wedding?”

Trixie can feel her cheeks reddening. “Not exactly. We have things in common, she’s fun. We’re friends.”

She thinks back to how Katya’s quickly become one of her best friends but she bites that back. She’s probably already said too much for Willam’s inventive mind and may have dug herself into a hole.

“And do you hang out a lot?”

“Again-”

“Non-wedding related?”

They don’t really hang out unless their plan is to work on the wedding but they do get distracted from that often. Having lunch here and there means nothing, right?

She shrugs. “I mean, not much.”

Willam just nods and stays silent and Trixie thinks that’ll be the end of it. She’s wrong.

“How terrible would it be, though? If you guys hooked up?”

“Willam!”

“It’s a serious question. You’ve been single for a while, you clearly like her. Is she hot?”

“She’s- I don’t like her!”

Willam rolls her eyes. “As a friend or whatever,” she says as she makes quotations marks with her hands. “Really, Trixie, it’s fine if you’re attracted to your friends.”

“I’m not attracted to her and you know I’m not a huge fan of the whole sex without feelings thing. And why are we discussing this? I don’t want to sleep with her. You don’t even know her!”

Willam stares at her for a while and smirks. “This,” and she points at Trixie’s figure, “is why we’re talking about this. You are way too bothered by my questions. Why are you so stressed if you don’t like her?”

That renders her speechless.

“I’m- I’m just tired of people insinuating this, ok?”

“Who’s insinuating this?”

“Everyone! Shea, Pearl, Kim-”

“So literally the people that know you better than everyone else?”

Speechless again. Goddammit, Willam.

“That’s not- you’re twisting things!”

“Or maybe you like her and are in deep, deep denial? I’m just saying this because between meeting and going on a first date with your last girlfriend there was a five month gap. I know, Trixie, I was there.”

She was. And she pushed Trixie day after day to ask her out or make any sort of move. Insisted that she had a crush and had to act on it. And it annoyed Trixie to no end.

And she was right back then.

But she isn’t now - she can’t be. Trixie doesn’t like Katya and as wonderful as Katya is she doesn’t want to like Katya. Liking friends is never good. It only ends in disappointment, one way or the other.

Trixie knows that better than anyone.

“But you are wrong now, okay? I don’t like her and I don’t want to sleep with her and I just want to be her friend. Okay?”

Willam shakes her head so lightly that Trixie could have imagined, but she ends up agreeing. “Okay.”

“Can we drop this now? I have work to do.”

“Sure. I’ll leave you to it. You look like you’ve got some steam to let out and I don’t want to be in punching range.”

Trixie doesn’t reply, merely nods as Willam gets her purse and moves to the door. Once the little bell indicates that it’s open, Willam’s voice reaches her again.

“You know I mean well, right?”

Trixie takes two deep breaths before she turns around to reply, but Willam is gone by then.

She knows it. She knows they all mean well. They’re all just wrong. She doesn’t like Katya.

She doesn’t.

The week following Willam’s impromptu boredom-induced-work day goes by much as the one before, she has lots of her usual gigs to tend to and so does Katya so they limit their shared plans to a minimum, although they do see each other still, including one day where they plus Shea and Sasha visit a few caterers and decide on the best possible menu - the advantages of having two people who’ll eat anything plus two vegetarians, one of which is less than healthy -, and one day where Trixie takes Katya to a fancy music school so she can ask an old friend who owes her one to play the violin at the wedding - Why do you always take me to weird places? Katya had asked. Because you’re weird, Trixie had answered. Katya thought that was fair.

Now they’ve done everything they had planned to do before Katya’s trip where she’ll be away for little bit over a week and Trixie tries not to worry because all of their plans seem to be on track. Katya insists that on her last free day before flying to Boston they have lunch together - no agenda, just fun, you need to relax - and how can Trixie deny any of that, really?

What she doesn’t expect is that Katya means lunch at her house with her cooking.

“You can cook?” She asks when Katya calls to confirm and give Trixie her address.

“I can read and follow direct recipe instructions, yes.”

“Am I in for food poisoning?”

“You’re in for a delicious meal with great company and mediocre wine. Or mediocre company and great wine, I don’t know your wine knowledge or your tolerance levels towards me.”

Trixie laughs and feels her stomach twisting a bit. She’s overthinking every word she says to Katya since Willam had run her mouth and planted things in Trixie’s mind. She’s now paranoid that she’s acting like she likes Katya, that maybe she’s giving that vibe, and she doesn’t want Katya to get the wrong idea. She’s no idea what she would say if Katya went for it. Katya won’t, obviously, Trixie’s grounded by the knowledge that Katya is way out of her league anyway and that makes it easier. But she doesn’t want to give that impression. Because it’s untrue.

Katya’s company is one of the best Trixie can think of, but she can’t say it now, not when her head is going over and over the possibilities and how that might read and Willam’s voice is on repeat in her subconscious, tempting her, making her second guess herself.

“My wine knowledge allows me to make any company tolerable.”

That seems like a safe line and sure enough it makes Katya laugh. It warms Trixie’s heart because she loves making Katya laugh - correction, she loves making her friends laugh. All of them. Even if strictly scientifically speaking Katya’s laugh is the cutest one.

Trixie sighs as her thoughts diverge again. She knows herself better than Willam or anyone else knows her. And she doesn’t like Katya. She can’t like Katya. Katya is wonderful and would most certainly be a wonderful girlfriend, but to someone other than Trixie. Because Trixie doesn’t like Katya.

“Anyway, food should be ready by one, ok?” Katya is completely unaware of the stupid thoughts going on Trixie’s mind and she’s glad for it. She confirms and they end the call and Trixie’s left wondering how she got there, overthinking, worrying so much.

Now it’s all about Katya and Willam’s fucking words that make more sense than Trixie wants to admit - why does it bother her so much? She may lie to Willam but the answer to herself is that she doesn’t know. But the issue is a lot deeper and she knows it. When was the last time Trixie wasn’t worrying. Before the Katya… situation, there was always something. Her last girlfriend, her family. Shea.

She used to be so carefree. Is this what growing up feels like?

She occupies herself for the rest of the morning, tries to get rid of those thoughts and anxieties. She wants to have a fun, relaxing lunch with her friend and she doesn’t need to be distracted by thoughts. She doesn’t need to overanalyse everything - what if Katya’s wearing something pretty? Does she say anything? Would that insinuate something? Or would not saying something do so instead? These are things Trixie hasn’t had to worry about since she was probably a teenager and she loathes her friends a bit for implanting those thoughts in her head again.

When it’s time for lunch she does the only thing she can think of: she brings another bottle of wine just in case. They say that alcohol brings out only what you really feel, right? That’s exactly what she needs. To reassure herself she doesn’t feel what everyone says she does. Her and her true feelings only.

“I brought more wine!” she announces as soon as Katya opens the door.

“You think I’m serving you cheap wine, don’t you?”

“Well, I don’t know, my wine is definitely cheap.”

Katya grins. “It’s a match, then!”

Katya hugs her as she crosses the door and Trixie’s reminded of how good at hugging Katya is. She never halfasses a hug, none of the one-arm thing almost everyone does. It’s comforting and Trixie likes it. And she won’t let herself overthink it.

Katya’s place is exactly as Trixie thought it would be, there’s useless stuff all around but it’s somehow super organized and it’s small but welcoming and the decoration should terrify Trixie’s eyes but it somehow works, much like Katya’s fashion style.

They sit on opposite sides of her very small table and Katya’s made a vegetarian version of a shepherd’s pie which actually tastes amazing. Their knees brush from time to time and Trixie gulps more and more wine each time it happens. She’s feeling a little buzzed already and they keep drinking as they keep talking even as the food is long gone. Trixie was right, the alcohol is helping. She’s just enjoying the company.

They move to the couch when the chairs become a bit uncomfortable, but Trixie’s wine bottle accompanies them since Katya’s is empty.

“You okay, Trix?”

“Hm?” she asks around her glass, all too aware that they’re both in a mild drunken state already.

“You look a little spacey, I don’t know.”

Trixie shrugs, but her mouth runs off a bit with the help of the alcohol. “Did you know you’re the only person who calls me Trix?”

Katya’s eyes actually bulge a bit. “Really? Should I stop?”

“No, no,” she denies it faster than she can think about it. “I like it.” She does and it’s weird because no one calls her that specifically because she used to hate it. Thankfully, she doesn’t voice that last part.

Katya smiles lazily from where her head is perched on the back of the couch and it’s nice and calming. Maybe this truly is the relaxing afternoon Trixie thought she’d have.

“Can I ask you something?” Katya breaks the silence and something in her tone puts Trixie on edge.

“Sure.”

“Have you really never taken anyone to that fabric store?”

“Uh. No.”

“Why? And why me?”

Trixie herself doesn’t know the answer. “Never seemed appropriate. Now it did.”

“Hm.” She seems to consider a for a while, focuses on the lightbulb over their heads. “Can I ask something else?”

“You can ask things without asking if you can ask them, Katya.”

Katya laughs but readjusts herself so she’s almost entirely looking at Trixie and she feels compelled to turn in her direction as well, sips again at her wine for something to do.

“When I went to your apartment last time it looked like you wanted to kill Pearl. I thought you guys were good friends?”

“We are,” she defends herself immediately. “And it wasn’t that bad, she was just getting on my nerves that day.”

“She was so nice, though.”

“Yeah, she just-” Trixie stops and finishes her glass before pouring herself more wine. Maybe she’s regretting her alcohol idea now, but it’s too late to back down. “I had this plan with you and she appeared out of nowhere. I just don’t like impromptu things.”

“Right,” Katya says and also finishes her glass. Trixie might be wrong but it looks like she’s smirking a bit. Trixie won’t press it.

“My turn to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Remember when we first met? You said that you mostly photographed weddings because they pay much more.”

Katya nods. “I did.”

“I may be wrong but you looked so sad when you said it.”

Katya just blinks.

“Well?” Trixie prompts.

“I don’t know what you’re asking.”

She does and Trixie can see it, it’s like she doesn’t want to talk about it, but she’s drunk almost an entire bottle of wine by then and just as she hoped her filters are wearing off. “Why do you not like doing weddings?”

Katya sighs, seems more displeased with the topic, but Trixie is even more stubborn when drunk so she won’t back down.

“I don’t dislike them. I’m just not a fan.”

“Why?” Trixie needs to know why Katya doesn’t like weddings. She doesn’t know why, but she does.

“I’m just, I don’t know, call it skeptical. Being with the same person forever? Seems like a lot, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t believe in being with one person forever?” Trixie’s heart is thundering for some reason.

Katya opens her mouth but closes it soon after. Whatever she was going to say, she clearly won’t anymore. She’s not meeting Trixie’s eyes.

“I just think it’s unrealistic. Don’t you?”

“Not if you find the right person, I don’t.”

“I think- I think I’m too old to believe in all that now.”

“We’re the same age, Katya.” She’s more and more defensive at each sentence said but she can’t stop.

“I just think that there was a time I believed in it. And that time’s gone by.”

Trixie wants to ask why, wants to press it and figure out why Katya doesn’t believe in forever or for the foreseeable future even. But she doesn’t, because her heart is beating fast and her blood is buzzing in her veins and she’s feeling something which she can’t place, but it keeps her mouth shut.

They’re silent for a long while after that, Trixie’s trying to put her thoughts in order. Her brain is not fully operating and contrary to what she thought would happen she wishes she was sober. She doesn’t know why Katya’s words sting so much - she doesn’t care, she shouldn’t care, it has nothing to do with her whether or not Katya believes in marriage or forever or whatever it is. Because she doesn’t like Katya.

Right?

“I wanna get married someday,” she whispers at some point, probably by the time they should already be trying to talk about something else.

Katya gives her the most intense look ever, her deep green eyes clouded by so much that Trixie couldn’t possibly try to understand, much less in her state.

Katya just raises her glass then, doesn’t break eye contact or change her expression. “Cheers to that.”

Trixie isn’t sure what any of this means, what their talk even was. She just clinks her glass against Katya’s.

“Cheers.”

#@pichitinha marry me pls - tiff #pichitinha #trixya #searching waiting looking #romance #lesbian au #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #rpdr fanfiction #submission #background sashea

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Searching, Waiting, Looking -Ch02- (Trixya) - Pichitinha

A/N: it took me 84 years but I’m back with a second chapter. This is as cliche as the first one, a little bit longer and overall gay. It’s also on AO3 and I’m here on tumblr as @pichitinha

Chapter 2 - We’re all patiently impatient

Trixie makes absolutely sure that she’ll be at least fifteen minutes early to their agreed coffee meeting because the first time she’d met Katya had been the first time she’d been late to anything in ages and she already hates that that’s the first impression she caused. Granted, Katya hardly looks like the type of person that would hold it against her, but that was a fluke, it’s not who she is, and it’s important for her that Katya knows that. So she’ll be her usual Trixie early, ready for anything with her entire schedule planned out for her - both in her brain and in her little planning book where her whole life is stored, really - and wait for Katya if she has to. She doesn’t mind waiting, she’s used to it, but she wants Katya to know what kind of professional - what kind of person - she is.

As she’s crossing the street to the little café they agreed to meet at, though, she can see Katya turning the corner and arriving at the same time. Maybe she also likes to be early to everything. That’s a quality Trixie loves in people, especially those she has to work with, so she hopes it’s true. Katya looks serene, a bit lost in her thoughts, and it tugs a smile to Trixie’s face.

“Katya, hey!” She waves as she’s crossing once she and Katya are close enough that she doesn’t have to shout. Her outfit today is more tasteful - well, it’s less horrific, more normal and fitting for an afternoon out in a coffee shop, but the pattern is still troublesome and Trixie’s really curious as to how she always makes her looks work when they’re actually are super ugly. Maybe she’s just really naturally pretty.

“Oh, hey! You’re early.” Katya hugs her quickly, more of a squeeze with one arm than an embrace, and Trixie can faintly gather the smell of her shampoo, something light and breezy that she can’t really place but that makes Trixie think of dandelions flying in slow motion and that somehow matches the way Katya’s hair dances in the light wind that’s hitting them on the sidewalk. It’s poetic, almost, and it widens her smile a little.

“I usually am, yesterday was a complete rare event, I swear.” Trixie feels the need to explain herself, for some reason she really wants Katya to be assured of her personal qualities.

Katya merely raises both her hands as if in surrender. “Hey, I’m not the time police. It’s fine. Let’s go in, I really need a coffee.”

They find an empty square table at the back of the café where the light isn’t great - which explains why most of the students in the place are crowded at the tables at the entrance where the sun is peeking through the window - but it’s quiet and there’s space to spread sheets on the surface and it’s not on the way to anything so there shouldn’t be people walking by. Katya orders a black coffee, Trixie sticks with a tea, and soon they’re seated in silence and Trixie wonders where the hell one starts planning a wedding.

(She’d googled it, of course, for hours the previous night. She’s still lost, though. She has no idea what she’s doing. But she’s doing it anyway.)

“So,” Katya looks just as lost as she is, but she’s still very joyful. “How about we play a bit at our actual jobs of pressing a button in a camera and throwing flowers around in a room before we dive into, you know, planning an entire wedding from beginning to end with zero experience?” She places both her elbows at the table as she speaks, rests her head on her hands and opens a very large but clearly dry smile as she finishes her sentence, and Trixie can’t help the laugh - or rather scream, as her friends have complained she does - that escapes her throat. She looks very cute like that, younger somehow with the two pigtails she has adorning her face, and Trixie can see in the hollows of her cheeks the coat of foundation she’s wearing.

“Yeah, ok, that’d be good.” She smiles and settles comfortably into her chair. Katya is as easy to talk to as Sasha had mentioned. “I do more than throw flowers around a room though, sometimes there are ribbons.”

“Oh my, how could I forget the ribbons!”

They laugh together and both start digging papers and photos out of their portfolio bags. They turn to each other, each with a huge stack of things at hand, and both giggle again.

“You go,” Trixie offers, settles her things on the empty chair next to her and watches as Katya spreads a few simple wedding pictures on the table.

Trixie’s barely glanced at them but her jaw drops immediately.

“Ok, so these are some weddings I did where the theme was like fall, which is kinda boring if you ask me, but anyway. So each was with a different decorator and idea, of course, but this is a type of photo I always like to get with the couple no matter what type of wedding it is and I think it translates well, no matter what’s going on around them. What do you think?”

Katya has her eyes on the photos as she speaks, her eyes fidgeting over them as if she is nervous, but now as she asks Trixie the question she can feel her eyes on her, questioning. She doesn’t look at them, though, can’t tear her own eyes away from the raw emotion that’s displayed on the photographs on the table. The scenery is different for all of them, the colors matching in the pastel and hazel fall setting but different in every other aspect, and the poses each couple is in also differs - there’s a man and a woman locked on an embrace, their faces almost touching but their eyes closed, expression serene, and there’s one with two men, one hugging the other from behind with his head buried on his neck, their eyes also closed and happy little smiles, and the others all follow the embrace and eyes closed pattern, but in different ways, different expressions, different everything.

Except for the feeling. Trixie isn’t sure how she does that - how she gets the couple to portray exactly what she has in mind, even - but she feels pure and unadulterated contentment when looking at each and every one of them. She feels calm, in peace, and a little bit in love herself - with what she doesn’t know, but she feels it.

Sasha wasn’t lying when she praised Katya’s work. She has no words.

“I… these are phenomenal, Katya. Like, truly magnificent.”

“Oh, please.” Katya waves her hand, makes light of the situation, but a quick glance is enough for Trixie to notice the faint blush on her cheeks. It’s adorable, really.

“I’m serious, there’s so much emotion in these. How do you do that?”

Katya shrugs sheepishly, lets her fingers roam the pictures as if she’s reminiscing.. “I don’t know. I just… that’s why I became a photographer, you know? It was never about photographing something but rather what that photograph would mean. Does that make sense?”

Weirdly, it makes all the sense in the world to Trixie. That’s why she never sold herself as a wedding decorator per se but ended up doing those almost exclusively. She doesn’t know the couples, doesn’t follow their lives afterwards to know if it worked of if they got divorced the week after, but there’s just something when she’s decorating a room for a wedding, when she knows that the day will be important, even if briefly, even if only then, that the people in there will be at their happiest for a couple of hours at least, it just severely beats down decorating a room for a company fifteen year anniversary.

“It does.” Trixie sighs. “It really does.”

They spend another half hour looking over Katya’s pictures, Trixie’s intent on analyzing every single one carefully resulting in several minutes spent in every set of new photos that Katya displays. Trixie can’t help it, really, she’s beyond amazed with Katya’s talent. And she doesn’t seem bothered, on contrary, seems flattered and even a bit embarrassed at Trixie’s clear awe when looking at the pictures. She keeps pointing out details, describing what feelings she gets from each, and every time Katya seems a bit surprised at how well Trixie reads what she meant to show. Trixie’s proud of herself, if she’s honest.

“We make a great pair,” Katya mentions lightly at yet another one of Trixie’s observations, this time on the last set of photos she has to show, and Trixie feels the corners of her lips tugging into a grin before she can even process it. The words sound nice.

“I’m not saying we don’t, but your pictures are so clear. You’re really talented, anyone would get what your goals are.”

Katya shakes her head, but doesn’t let her smile disappear completely. She looks so pleased and Trixie’s a little pleased with her own self for it. “You’d be surprised.”

Trixie can’t picture anyone looking at what she just looked and not being completely awestruck. Katya’s talent is clear in every colors she uses and to think that people might not see that is mindblowing. “Some people are really dumb.”

“Ugh, stop with the complimenting already, it’s gross!” Katya swats Trixie’s hands away as she jokes, her eyes shining as she gathers her things to put them back in her bag. Trixie laughs at the cute grump face she makes and moves to get her own pictures. Katya seems absurdly interested. “Yes, show me your talents now.”

“Before you see anything you should know that I have unfortunately never had a photographer that could capture my ideas as I wanted them to be captured so don’t judge me too hard.”

Trixie isn’t usually shy about her work - she’s a good decorator and she knows it - but now that it’s her time to share her work her brain is haunting her with everything Katya just showed her - beautiful, amazing works of art -, and it’s hard not to feel overwhelmed.

Katya merely looks at her like she’s grown an extra head. “Uh, I’m a photographer? I’ll be able to tell that the photographer did a bad job, don’t worry.”

Trixie’s heart swells with her plain confidence that whatever she sees will be the photographer’s fault, and Trixie hopes briefly that she’s right, that none of the photos she brought - although chosen very carefully to share her talent - have any of her mediocre decorations, where the time was too little, or the theme too strict, or the couple too unhelping.

Trixie starts with her outdoor wedding photos, knows it’s a bit irrelevant given Shea and Sasha actually have a closed hall, but she loves them and their simplicity and the fact that her decorations have to match the existing nature; and she really wants Katya to see what she’s capable of - what she knows she’s capable of. After what she’s seen of Katya’s work, she wants her to think she’s a worthy partner. She knows she is, she just needs to prove it.

Katya grabs the first one off the table and puts it weirdly close to her face, her eyes squinting and roaming through the entirety of the picture, searching. Trixie is oddly uncomfortable, loves the wedding she’s currently scrutinizing and really hopes she doesn’t hate it because if she does, Trixie doesn’t think she’ll have anything else better to save herself.

“That was such a poor choice of lightning for this photo. They totally missed how a color gradient could have formed with the flowers and the sunset in the back.”

Katya moves to show her, places her finger on the middle of the frame where the intersection between the flowers and the sky is, but Trixie doesn’t look, she doesn’t have to. She had placed those flowers there strategically, had known that the sun setting in the back would create the perfect colors to follow the line of the flowers if taken from the right angle from the ground at the beginning of the carpet. She’d told the photographer that, several times, up until the point he had outright told her he went to school for this and she didn’t. He never did take the picture she wanted, never immortalized the image she envisioned, and the crappy photo she took on her personal phone is the only proof she has of that.

Now Katya’s pointing that out, after maybe staring at the picture for thirty seconds, and she seems sad at the missed opportunity. Trixie’s heart aches for a moment, because that’s a particular event she’s never really forgotten, was never able to replicate again, and she’s part sad by the confirmation that what she wanted was indeed possible, but mostly happy because Katya gets it. She wasn’t there, she didn’t see it, but she gets it.

“Trixie?” Katya asks with arched eyebrows and Trixie notices she’s been staring at her the whole time, mouth probably agape.

“Sorry, I just- hold on.” She takes her phone out of her pocket and frantically looks for the picture she took that day. She had an older phone, then, but she’s saved it through all the months and always has it in her gallery. “Bare in mind that I am not a photographer and this was taken with an old iPhone, ok?”

Katya nods even though she seems lost, and takes Trixie’s phone.

“Oh!” Katya stares at the phone for several long seconds, and then the right side of her lips tugs into a cute side smile, content. Trixie’s heart soars. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. That was wicked smart, Trixie.”

Trixie can feel herself blushing, readjusts a bit on her chair as she feels warmth spreading all over her face and chest in pride. She never realized how much she wanted to be recognized for that feature that’d been gone unnoticed. “Thanks. I’ll never forgive the photographer for not capturing it.”

Katya nods in agreement, eyes still on the crappy picture on her phone. “It truly is a shame. Maybe next time you do something like this you can invite me to take pictures?”

“Yes!” Trixie finds herself nodding before Katya has even finished speaking, her reply perhaps more enthusiastic than necessary. “I think you’re right, we make a great pair.”

Katya finally gives her back the phone, stares at her again like her entire focus and attention are on Trixie and she can practically feel the weight of it. “We do.”

“Ok, so that’s basically it, right?” Katya asks staring up and down the page on her notepad where she and Trixie made a list of everything they have to do for the wedding - well, everything they think they have to do. They looked at several websites and discussed each item to see its real relevance and added a few of their own - are there oddly specific photography and decoration items? Yes - and currently they have an entire written page consisting of no less than seventy-four items.

“Basically,” Trixie snorts. “Yeah, I guess that’s basically it.”

Katya smiles and gives a little laugh, puts down the notebook with a sigh as she leans back on her chair and stretches. Trixie can see a tiny part of her stomach, then, and it’s lighter than her arms but tanner than her face and it’s fully toned. She averts her gaze when Katya speaks again, “So where do we start?”

“By moving to Mexico and pretending we never agreed to any of this?”

Katya’s laugh is loud this time and it fills the entire room and it is undeniably adorable. Trixie can’t help but smile in return. “Good plan,” Katya replies when she manages to stop, leans on the table still completely focused on Trixie. She hasn’t stopped smiling yet. Trixie wouldn’t ever stop smiling if she had her teeth, she thinks.

“I don’t know, there are definitely lots of things to do and we don’t even know the date they’ll get yet. Which, of course, is number one on the list. We don’t have a lot to work on right now.”

“Let’s discuss the couple then, maybe we’ll get some ideas. Tell me about you and Shea, how long have you known each other?”

Trixie feels her smile dropping for a second before she puts it right back on. She loves Shea, she’s been her best friend for years, but she doesn’t like discussing their friendship, especially with someone she just met, no matter how fast and easily they hit it off, even if they’re someone who knows and loves Shea as well.

“I met Shea back when we both still lived in Chicago. When I decided to move there from Milwaukee my friend Kim told me she had a spare room that she and her roommate needed to rent, so there I went. Her roommate was Shea and we became friends very fast. The three of us were inseparable.”

Katya raises her eyebrows, seems weary. “What happened to the third friend?”

“Oh, she’s fine. She still lives in Chicago so we don’t see each other all that much. But we talk everyday, I’m sure she’ll be the maid of honor.”

Trixie stops talking then, feels like she’s given pretty much all of the important details - what else could she say? Katya is still looking at her like she expects more though, and there’s a few uncomfortable silent seconds where neither says anything and both look uncertain.

But Katya recovers quickly, clears her throat and takes it upon herself to share. “So, I’m Russian.”

“Oh?” Trixie isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but she’s glad for the change of subject.

“Yeah. I mean, technically. I was born there but my parents moved to Boston soon after that. But anyway, I met Sasha in Russian 101 in college.”

“Why would you take Russian? Why would Sasha take Russian?”

“She didn’t, she was the TA. I did because I figured it would be an easy A. It was, but that’s neither here nor there.” She makes a dismissive motion with her hand and Trixie laughs at her sly grin.

“You cheated, you mean.”

“They never said a fluent person couldn’t take the entire language curriculum. French and Russian awarded me with an honors degree, thank you very much.”

“Cheating,” Trixie insists.

“Loophole,” Katya replies, a giggly sound marking her sentence. Trixie giggles with her. “But, anyway, we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Was she stupid smart at school, too?” Trixie asks, has always wondered what Sasha was like in college. If she was anything like she pictures, effortlessly good at everything and often praised, Trixie thinks she would have been impossibly jealous had they studied together.

“I don’t think Sasha knows how to be anything other than stupid smart, honestly.”

Trixie chuckles, nods for lack of what to do. “Yeah, I figured.”

There are a few seconds of silence in which they each finish their now cold beverages and Katya takes the opportunity to change her expression to completely serious for the first time.

“Do you… hm, do you like Sasha? Like as a partner for your best friend?”

Trixie feels her jaw dropping instantly, sits up straighter at the shock of the words - or rather her tone. She sounds convinced the answer is actually no. Granted, Trixie has several unresolved personal issues that may or may not have a side effect on how she thinks of Sasha sometimes, but at the end of the day Sasha has been a constant presence in her life for the past three years and she’s been a really good friend and a perfect match for Shea. Trixie genuinely loves her and she really hopes that she doesn’t give off the wrong vibe.

“Oh my god, yes! I adore her. Did she say something? Does she think I don’t?”

“No, no, no! Sorry, Sasha likes you a lot. You just made a face, just now. I thought… I misinterpreted, sorry.”

“Oh.” Trixie doesn’t know how to explain it. She can’t find the proper words when she herself isn’t sure yet of why she sometimes feels the way she does. So she takes the easy road. “Single’s jealousy, I guess.”

“A wedding decorator who wants to get married? Groundbreaking.”

Trixie scream laughs again, swats Katya’s arm lightly. “Shut up!”

“So, is she mad as a hatter or what?”

Trixie and Shea are seated as comfortably as it’s possible on Shea’s ridiculously old couch, the one she’s been saying for over a year she was going to replace and now she won’t because she and Sasha will buy a new one when they move in together after the wedding. They each have a box of chinese food and they are halfway through them when Shea asks about her meeting with Katya.

“She most definitely is. We actually hit it off pretty well.”

“You did?” She raises her eyebrows, seems surprised at that.

“Yeah? Why? I wouldn’t peg her as someone difficult.”

“Oh, she isn’t. I’m surprised by you.”

Trixie kicks her on the shin as she scream laughs. “You bitch!”

Shea laughs out loud, throws her head back for good measure, and Trixie cuckles to herself. She wonders briefly how it’ll be between them once Shea gets married. She wonders if the next however many months they’ll have before the wedding will be like a countdown of last moments like this. The thought leaves a lump on her throat and she tries really hard to force it down with her wine.

“I’m kidding, I’m glad you hit it off. She’s a good friend to have, she’s the most selfless person you’ll ever meet and I’m marrying Sasha.”

“Wow. Is it a Russian thing? It doesn’t sound Russian. She’s as selfless as a Russian. Nah.”

Shea smiles mischievously and places her empty container on the table, picks up her glass of wine. “Wow, you already know she’s Russian? It took me three months.”

Trixie rolls her eyes, is not surprised at all by Shea’s comment and has no doubt about where she’s going: there’s nothing Shea likes more than trying to set Trixie up. Anyone, anytime, anywhere.

“We were discussing how we met you guys. Because we’re planning your wedding. We’re business partners.”

“Sounds kinky.”

Trixie gets up then, fake exasperation. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m joking!” Shea laughs and moves to grab Trixie’s arm, pulls her back to sit on the couch. “She’s a catch though, if you’re interested. And she’s gay.”

“Much better than last time when you tried to set me up with your straight coworker, I’ll give you that.”

“She’s not straight, she’s pressured by society’s heteronormativity and she’ll realize that soon enough, give it a year!”

Trixie rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Ok,ok!” She surrenders with a motion of her arms, light smile on her lips. “Tell me about my wedding then. Did you plan it all already? Can we do it this Saturday?”

“Yep, in fact we have already reserved the dumpster down the street.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. How-” Shea stops talking when her phone lights up on the coffee table, Sasha’s name and photo on the screen. “Uh, sorry.”

Trixie dismisses her. “Go ahead.”

Shea gets up to answer the phone on the other room and Trixie takes these few minutes to breathe. She finishes her wine, makes the last sip turn to three as she stares at the apartment that Shea’s lived in since she moved to California a few months after Trixie. It’s familiar to her, like in sitcoms where it’s always the apartment of one of the friends that becomes the point. Kim always stays there when she’s visiting and so does Trannika even if she visits less. Pearl is there constantly and she always has Violet with her and no one is sure why they go to Shea’s place when it’s the furthest and not the biggest, but it’s their thing now, she guesses.

She doesn’t want to be that friend, the best friend in the Bridesmaids movie that gets jealous and bitter and ruins everything because she can’t get a hold of her emotions, but it’s hard when it feels like the last solid thing she’s managed to maintain is going to fall apart. Shea’s friendship is the one thing she managed to keep after all the turmoils in her life - leaving her family in Wisconsin, leaving her friends in Chicago, leaving a string of relationships that she wasn’t able to save everywhere she went. All her friends are married or in a relationship or some even happily single and Trixie still struggles with the ghosts of all her past girlfriends haunting her. She’s not old but she is getting older, and she hates the feeling that she’s stuck while everyone else passes her by. While life passes her by.

She gets up from the couch and grabs all the boxes and dishes to clean the place a little bit, tries to ground herself to the reality of the now and to convince herself that she’s overreacting and things will be fine. Kim lives almost on the other side of the country and their friendship is still one of the strongest bonds Trixie has. She’ll be fine with Shea having a wife. A wife that Trixie knows and likes and is friends with.

Shea is happy and that’s all that matters. It is.

“So Katya thinks you’re ‘one of the most talented people I’ve ever met’, quote, and seems very infatuated by you, says Sasha.” Shea says when she enters the kitchen and finds Trixie pouring herself some more wine, leaving just enough on the bottle for Shea to get half a glass.

“Sasha did not say that.”

“Ok, that’s my interpretation of what Sasha said.”

Trixie rolls her eyes. “You can’t expect me to date every single person you’ve ever met, Shea.”

“I wouldn’t keep trying if you dated one! You’ve been single for like five hundred years, Trixie, you gotta get out there!”

“It’s been like less than a year.”

“Potato, potahto. But anyway, she seemed really impressed with your work, Sasha says she’s looking forward to working with you.”

There’s still some sort of innuendo in Shea’s voice, but Trixie ignores it in lieu of the compliment, smiles despite herself. She can’t help the giddy feeling in her chest at the praise. She loves what she does and she loved Katya’s work and she doesn’t necessarily need validation but she loves that she got it, especially from her. “Me too! Her photos were mindblowing, she’s amazing. Your wedding’s gonna be, like, the best wedding ever made.”

Shea smiles back, seems happy at the prospect, but then she sighs a little. “I know that you’ll be the best decorator in the seven realms and that my wedding is gonna be the most beautiful in all of the lands, but I’m still sad you won’t be my maid of honor.”

Trixie sips on her wine at that, tries to find the right words to reply.

She’s sad too. But it’s better this way.

“You’ll forget about that as soon as you see how magnificent the hall will look.”

“I can’t wait. We’ve decided on a date, by the way. It’ll be in six months.”

“Oh.” Trixie’s not sure how to respond. Six months isn’t that close but she kind of thought they might wait for another year or so. “Already?”

“I know it’s a bit tight for the planning, but you know we don’t want anything too big, right? We’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

Trixie nods, smiles a bit as she pours a tiny bit more wine. The planning. Right. That’s why she’s surprised, because the closer it is the less time she has to plan.

“Of course we will, I’m amazing at what I do.”

“You are a conceited little country gal, that’s what you are.”

Trixie shrugs and grins into her glass. Her insecurities be damned, she’ll focus on the now. “Maybe.”

#trixya #pichitinha #searching waiting looking #lesbian au #romance #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #rpdr fanfiction #background sashea #shea x trixie

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Queue

EDITED:

Blue Neighborhood Series: TALK ME DOWN (Group) - Mac

Conflicted Looks Good On You (Crystal x Gigi) - Mina

New sensations, sweet temptations: chapter four (crygi, jan/rock) - Winter

New sensations, sweet tempations: chapter 5 (crygi, jan/rock) - Winter

she bangs. (sashea)

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor (3) (Branjie) (and background everyone)- Ortega

#queue

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Queue

Decode: In-Zhane

Stop looking and actually see. (Nicky x Jan) Magic Mullet

White Noise (What an Awful Sound) Ch. 4 - Meta

Paper Boats, Pining, and the Sublime (Sashea) - Estuary

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor (2) (Branjie) (and background everyone)- Ortega

Favorite Place, Chapter II (Crygi) - Lily Bee

#queue

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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i'll die happy tonight (sashea + others) — lily2

[ prompt ] : ❛ halloween parties are only good for two things: dressing in lingerie and getting really, really drunk. ❜

[ author’s note ] : let it be known this is truly the greatest top 4 of the century, this prompt seemed really fun and open and I don’t like halloween so I thought it be really interesting, everyone knows I’m a hoe for sashea, peppermint and trinity so this made sense with my fantasy.

— *.✧

“Uno, pay up bitch!” Peppermint screamed in excitement once she slammed her last card on Sasha’s wooden table, toying with the end strands of her hair as a grin was captured at the corner of her lips, looking to Trinity who could only sit in defeat, arms crossed with a roll her eyes handing her a crisp twenty right from her wallet as Sasha and Shea snickered, watching the Uno showdown happen.

“Dammit, I should’ve gone to Alaska and Sharon’s Halloween party instead of fooling around on a perfectly good friday night with y'all.” The Orlando native spoke up as Sasha poured more vodka and soda in her glass, her acrylics tapping the cup frustrated, Trinity knew she was going to lose yet still decided to pick a battle with self-proclaimed uno master: Peppermint.

It was unknown to all their co-workers and friends since highschool, since college how the four had managed to stay so intact without murdering one another though everyone was secretly convinced Trinity was on the verge of it secretly since they begun all working together at the same label, they were closer than ever and though they had some questionable moments and distinctly aggressive arguments now and then, they knew they were all just eachother’s best judy’s and that’s how it would be until the grave.

“Speaking of party, why didn’t we go again?” Sasha spoke up, curiously tilting her head towards Peppermint as the Russian bit her tongue, not wanting to exactly question the reasoning behind it but Sharon and Alaska were quite nice co-workers when they weren’t screwing eachother off next to Sasha’s office. “I quite like halloween since I’ve moved to America!” The blonde added innocently, smiling at Trinity who wanted to throw up at the idea of a party though parties meant free alcohol and that was a plus.

“I honestly wanted to, I was gonna be Naomi Campbell, had a whole gold and black outfit planned!” Shea’s genuine disappointment showing in her voice and facial expression which read as: bitter.

“Sash, halloween parties are only good for two things: dressing in lingerie and getting really, really drunk!” Peppermint spoke up before Shea could even let another word leave her lips.

“And I know Shea would do both of those for you for free, no charge.” Trinity finally added, Sasha choking on her vodka and putting her glass down as Shea patted her back, telling her to sit up though Trinity and Peppermint sat giggling like absolute fools, grabbing eachother’s arm and then staring intently at Shea to actually make a move and not reply with a blantant attempt to keep their friendship at just that— a friendship.

“Maybe not for free.” Shea corrected, brushing her long and black curled hair out of her face, letting it fall as she put it behind her ear, the blonde beside her shaken up just a bit, just now hearing the music that had been playing from Sasha’s speaker that they placed on her kitchen countertop.

“That’s disappointing.”

As unexpected of a reply that was from Sasha Velour, seeing the the absolutely priceless faces of disbelief on Trinity and Peppermint’s face was reward enough, Shea leaned towards Sasha, her face gently dropped in her hand and she happily felt a smirk present as she spoke, “For you? Free if you beg for it.”

“Okay this went from amazing to filthy in about two seconds!” Trinity blurted to the table aloud, her words just the tiniest bit slurred as she took another long sip of her alcoholic beverage. Shea gestured her best friend towards the door with a small hand gesture, the european piecing it together and nodding as the two stood up, eye to eye simply staring at eachother as they pushed their chairs in and grabbed hands a bit needy.

“We need like five minutes.” Shea announced before they closed the door and all that was left was the Queen which Sasha had put on purely for white noise and Trinity as well as Peppermint who could simply blink before turning to eachother as the southerner coughed, getting her friend’s attention.

She waved a ten in her fingertips, “Bet you a ten that they’re going to finally confess.” The black girl beside her could almost collapse in her seat from the pure laugher in the moment, “You wish, with how dense Shea is and how unbearably unaware Sasha is, I bet you they’re gonna come back in and just brush it off as some kind of personal talk, my girl will back out and I know it.”

“You might be good with cards but I, am the number one matchmaker of the Orlando area and have been since highschool!” She pointed it out as if she was full of pride and confidence from that tidbit of hers. “I honestly hope I’m wrong but then I have to give you ten dollars so we’ll see about that.”

They shook hands and exchanged a cheers with their half empty glasses, waiting for any possible outcome, “Lost twenty dollars and a party on Halloween already, I ain’t losing another ten bitch!”

*.✧

Shea held onto Sasha’s hand firmly as they exited, pressing their sides against the door firmly and staring at eachother once more, unable to really focus on whatever was to come next, though the rampant music outside and children on the other side of the block all screaming and running around wasn’t exactly the greatest way to set a mood either.

“So is now a right time to talk or should we wait till tomorrow when there aren’t annoying fucking kids running around?” The whisper just loud enough for the Russian girl to hear, she shook her head, absolutely wanting to hear whatever Shea had to say that was so personal or so important they had to leave Peppermint and Trinity stranded like castaways at her dining table.

She definitely wasn’t offended— quite the opposite, she hoped this is what she had been waiting to hear and not just another matter about work or planning a surprise party or another holiday, she was hoping for none of that. Her blonde hair fell right on her shoulders, her curls bouncing as she sniffled and looked back up again, it was definitely cold for October in California though Sasha should definitely be much more resilient to the cold weather considering her background and motherland.

“Sasha…” She laughed a bit, feeling her cheeks turn a soft pink as she continued on strong, trying to fight all her willpower to just bow out, “I really, really have been keeping this in and know that I just have to be honest with you after years of being your best friend.” Sasha smiled gently, tightening their hand’s grip as Shea sucked in a sharp breath.

“Shit…” She breathed out, feeling her hands shaking.

It was so ironic that Shea Couleé, the girl who seemed to have her entire life together, was confident, oozed nothing but absolute charisma and charm and had great public speaking skills consistently, an extrovert who wanted one thing in her life: Sasha Velour was choking up while trying to talk, not from tears or any sappy lines like that— pure anxiety.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her friend cooed as she rubbed Shea’s shoulder, the girl biting the inside of her cheek with regret and rolling her eyes at how damn flimsy she looked right now in front of Sasha who had completely idolized and loved her from the beginning.

“Sasha, I’m in love with you, so badly.”

That’s when the silence seemed deafening and every other sound noted of before seemed to suddenly disappear expect Shea’s own annoyingly pounding heartbeat, feeling Sasha gaze into her eyes and take in every word.

“God damn, I mean really, shit.” She laughed at her own misery of a confession, “Ever since I met you in high school and you came all beautifully dressed in that embroidery dress I kept my eye on you and your quirks and habits and then when we started becoming best friends I realized, I’m not in love with the idea of being close to you and your antics, I’m in love with you and everything you do, it’s kind of embarrassing how often I think about you.”

Every weight of baggage seemed to collapse off her shoulders after that, straightening her posture as Sasha stood still not saying a word.

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand.”

That was when the Russian snapped almost immediately back, “What? No!” She yelled before taking her volume down a few knotches though over the blood piercing music who would actually care about their conversation.

“Shea, I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years…” The words leaving her lips in a clustered whisper, a gentle stroke of her hand as they still had their fingers interlocked lightly. “I always thought you were just joking around and this is what best friends did but when you looked at me like a person when I first came from Russia, I knew almost instantly.” Her turn to laugh and be stunned at her own realizations.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

Sasha chuckled though she nodded instantaneously, “Please.” Shea felt nothing but a sigh of relief before pressing their lips together, this was truly going to be the greatest halloween of her life despite wanting to go to that damn party earlier.

Euphoria was a good way to describe it, Shea had experienced a lot in her life this far but kissing Sasha Velour had to definitely top the list for now, her hands gently brushing her cheeks, her fingertips gently toying with the smallest strands of her blonde and thick hair, her lips were soft and had a definite mint aftertaste, it had to be whatever lipgloss she had put on but Shea was definitely not complaining especially knowing her lipstick was going to brush off on the Russian’s lips.

They seperated but not without Shea stealing one more kiss, wrapping her arms around her waist and laughing, “Sorry.” She flushed though she was definitely not sorry about it in the slightest. “Don’t be.”

*.✧

Trinity heard the door open and tapped Peppermint on her shoulder, gasping immediately once she saw Shea and Sasha holding hands and whisper something to eachother with wide smiles across their faces.

The other girl raising a finger, not convinced Shea had said a damn thing until they kissed, which they did almost two second later which was met with Peppermint’s turn at an aggravated slam to Sasha’s table, “Dammit, just had to be today and on Halloween!” She handed Trinity her ten dollars aggresively so as Shea scoffed, hands on her hips as Sasha sat down, Trinity brightly stuffing the money before whispering a, “So it happened?”

“I didn’t think you had enough courage and nerve is all I’m saying.” Her brow cocked as Shea shrugged, smiling knowing she was truly the winner of tonight: she lost a few card game’s but gained everything she had ever wanted right next to her.

“So about getting drunk and dressing in lingerie…” Shea winked, flirting with her girlfriend who could only lick her lips and laugh, Trinity yelling and standing up, pouring herself more alcohol though her knees were beginning to wobble, “They’re starting already, cheers to the happy couple!” She said as they all quickly stood and bent over to touch glasses with eachother.

“Happy Halloween, no one I’d rather spend it with than my best friends and my girlfriend.” The word still completely new and unfamiliar on Sasha’s tongue though exploiting it felt incredible.

“I think you’d definitely prefer to spend it alone with Shea right about now.”

Shea couldn’t argue with that as Trinity drunkly giggled into her jacket, head burried in her neck, “And that’s love!” Peppermint and Sasha high fiving over something she had replied that Shea couldn’t make out over Trinity breathing on her leather emsmeble.

She couldn’t possibly be any bit mad because once their eyes met, the world melted away and all she saw was that gorgeous face and pure smile, both of them sharing the same thought as the rest of the room seemed to black out.

She is everything and more.

#rpdr fanfiction #halloween challenge #sasha velour #shea coulee #trinity the tuck #peppermint #sashea #lesbian au #I'll die happy tonight #concrit welcome #submission #roza

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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i'll be your biggest fan ( trinity & sasha ) - lily2

[ prompt ] : sasha never thought she would ever get married let alone to her best friend but in the midst of the big day she needs help putting on her dress for the event and she knows exactly who to employ to get the damn thing done.

[ author's note ] : I really love their friendship a lot (and also shea/trinity is a huge brotp of mine) and it's very sweet and so like opposite and I find it so charming, wanted an excuse to write wedding sashea as well !!! I genuinely love trinity and enjoy writing her so so so badly, I'm a proud eastern european girl but I will always appreciate my homestate queen! (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+

— *.✧

"What if she doesn't like the dress?"

It was difficult for Sasha to even process the insanity that was about to be her own wedding day, her perfectly manicured hands running through her thick blonde curls. The Russian could barely even get a sentence out without wanting to collapse in fear— perhaps not fear but stress though it all seemed to mesh into one demon that kept clawing at her back, that she wasn't good enough for Shea, for this wedding, that she was still scared of the commitment that was about to come.

The issue was not if she was to be devoted to Shea Couleé, the one woman she knew almost instantaneously as her soulmate, her partner, her best friend all these years later.

It was clear the minute they exchanged looks and Shea leaned against the bar, a track from Donna Summer blasting from the stage, Sasha leaning deeper and deeper entranced by her beauty, intelligence, everything. Well rounded and active in her community back in her hometown of Chicago, something the blonde could definitely appreciate considering her own background in both St. Petersburg and Chicago.

"I really should've consulted her, I'm all about fashion but this isn't exactly what you would call my alley way!"

An irrepressible thumping of her heart as Trinity brushed the corners of her hair, putting a box down in Sasha's lap before groaning aloud, the southern girl never shy to share aloud her opinions and thoughts even when not provoked to.

"Sasha Velour, I know damn well you are not trying to talk your mind into stress on your wedding day!" A hair brush in her left hand as she tossed her perfectly sprayed and shortned hair, "Three things in life are absolutely positive: I'm gorgeous, taxes and Shea Couleé being in love with you." The words spitting out her lips before she finished up styling her best friend's hair.

The bride-to-be couldn't help but giggle at the sentiment, it was true, all three facets.

Trinity Taylor was truly a gem on earth, you'd never meet someone with the ability to talk your ear off while almost simultaneously digging a grave for you in Dante's layers of hell. A true southern girl, a beauty queen since high school, everything seemed so perfectly aligned and expected of the Orlando native.

Who needs a degree in economics! Especially when you can just be as gorgeous as I am?

However, expectations aren't always necessarily the reality. Trinity met Sasha, at a bar nonetheless due to a mutual friend and unprovoked, inspired by Sasha's work and ethic as a writer and designer, decided to finally go to college after dropping out her first year after high school. Majoring in business, still a pageant queen at her core and getting a minor in fashion retail as well.

"I'm still surprised you picked me for your maid of honor, if I can be completely honest with you." A smile gently forming across the corners of her lips as she spoke to the girl who was still in her robe, Trinity beginning to put some finishing touches. Sasha's brow immediately cocked and she practically grasped her entire desk.

"What do you mean? We've been close for years! We studied together, I helped you with exams, you introduced me to Shea! Don't be so hard on yourself." The twinge of her still softly reminding Russian accent came out hardest when she was angry or spewing up words, no time to breathe in between sentences.

"Hey! Don't get sappy on me bitch, I have so much makeup on I think our local Sephora might have run out of business." Her hands gently beginning to weave flowers through her hair, taking in a deep breath, learning to be silent and dabbing her puffy eyes when the Russian wasn't looking and closed her eyes, it was awfully emotional.

"You still have to put me in my dress, we have about an hour!" She warned gently, rubbing Sasha's shoulders as the thought begun to truly sink into her memory.

She was going to put Sasha into her dress.

Tears seemed to collect in the corner of her eyes but she brushed them aside, staying strong for the Russian who deserved today: to have met someone as fashionable and sweet as herself though Shea was definitely the best care she had with her isolation of family, it was very heartwarming and bittersweet to the girl who came to the states with nothing but her phone, some sketchbooks and a camera.

Sasha would not budge on her artistic roots and demanded that flowers be in her hair someway, somehow, scattered. At first the brunette could barely stand it, almost bitterly spitting that Farrah could do it instead, hating the idea.

Her intuition however was once again, as if it was a surprise, correct. The illusion was everything, as if she was some sort of gorgeous mythological creature, it was very on brand for her and her own creative processes.

"Told you it would look good."

"Well, sometimes I'm wrong, we ain't perfect but I'm pretty damn close honey."

Flowers intricately being placed in her hair as they spoke with tender laughter, "You know, this entire look, I commissioned the dress and made all the other pieces so I look like Lada, she's a Slavic goddess." Trinity wasn't surprised that she was including her culture in little ways, speckled into her wedding especially being away from Russia.

"Oh really?"

A hint of disbelief in her tone but Trinity knew her best friend well enough to realize her passion for her culture, she kept all her Russian zazz and was delighted to meet Katya, someone to finally share an outlet with, comfortably speak Russian with without feeling targeted or stared at with distrust.

"Yes, a bit of a tribute. Also, my favorite outfit Shea ever wore was this lavender, tulle dress during our fifth year anniversary, it had white flowers in the fabric and I wanted a piece of her in my dress." Her cheeks gently flushing, talking about her (almost official) wife with nothing but devotion and pride.

"That's so fucking cute I wanna throw up."

They laughed and held eachother's hands, embracing in the moment before the robe came off, Sasha sucking in a breath as Trinity unzipped the dress from it's black bag that had been delivered via Bianca and gently held it her hands, being sure to look where she stepped as the dress seeped out of her hands with petals and flowers embleshed adorning every corner of the dress.

It was a nice surprise and breach from Sasha's usual eclectic style that almost always had a paint stain or three, she had her brand down and Trinity could appreciate how confident and how out of the box, creative she was however it definitely made her inner, nostalgic heart smile at the sight of a dress so long it hits the floor on both sides.

"This is really beautiful Sash."

Trinity could only unzip the back of the dress, so beautifully crafted and designed as Sasha was left standing to turn and gently put her legs through the hole of the dress, getting stuck for just a second, careful with her hair knowing Trinity was definitely her smarter half in this situation considering the blonde was simply about to pull it over her head, ruining her styled hair.

"Oh God..." A grumble from Trinity's lips as she zipped her up, it felt almost wrong. This was usually a mother's duty, a family item, the entire process of dressing and making over the bride, no matter how traditional it sounded to anyone else, they know deep in their hearts they were sisters but not having your blood family must sting, especially at a wedding.

It felt strangely therapeutic to tie and zip her into her own wedding dress, she wasn't complaining in the slightest even if the heat from the mirror made her perfectly applied foundation melt and stick just a bit more, she was completely focused on one thing: making sure her best friend was ready and didn't have to do it alone.

Galvanized, Sasha seemed to hold her breath not fully understanding yet that she and Shea would soon be married and finally tie the knot, years of friendship and dating and it had finally happened with absolutely no hesitation from Sasha who screamed "yes!" in just about every language she could speak or name. Trinity touched her back, making sure she was fully snug into her dress before touching her shoulders in comfort, stifling back a laugh.

"Fucking Christ I feel so hideious!" She cried out, hiding her tears with a smirk that spanned across her entire face, unable to erase it as Sasha opened her eyes and seemed to stop breathing for a few seconds, truly taking in the details of the dress and adjusting her bra just a bit before choking up, Trinity quickly intervened, "You better not cry off your mug! I worked hard." The two staring side by side at Sasha together, "My favorite married couple." She sighed as she held hands with the Russian girl who happily was adjusting to the new word: married.

"You can cry once you get down the alter girl, we better get into our shoes because I can already feel us behind schedule, Katya's angry fingers typing away at us to hurry up."

The blonde nodded but not before squeezing Trinity's hand, a silent "thank you" mouthed as she begun to look around for her pair of shoes, her head wondering off to many different places at the same exact time.

"Anytime, any day you need me, I'm here." Her word's crisp as she strapped on her heels, matching her floral wedding extravaganza with a lavendar tulle dress, breaking down her wall a bit and even having shoes with some flowers done in colorful embroidery, Sasha claimed it was a very popular thing in Eastern Europe, that it adorned all their clothing.

"I know, always, when you finally have the confidence to ask out a certain someone especially." The wiggle of her eyes reminding Trinity brutually of her own, suprisingly awkward struggles with love, "Oh you shady!" She gasped, covering her mouth gently and almost hitting her with her bouquet of flowers.

"I'm just saying I see you getting side glances all the time from her."

"Let's not talk about this on your own damn day! Another time."

So they interlocked arms and did one final mirror take, finding it hard they went from senior year of high school, a nervous and introverted Russian girl with a thick accent and passion for fashion shows and politics best friends with the beauty queen, the secretly witty and hilariously instinctive southern belle.

"Let's go bitch, I know well time is a racing!" She yelped as they skipped out the door in excitement though Trinity was attempting to be careful with all the dress material that was sliding across the floors they walked upon, making sure she grabbed Sasha's own flower bouquet filled with Camomile (only fitting to be the national flower of Russia) and odd numbered as she requested.

Hand in hand they walked, unafraid of what was in store and for the future, just as the stories went.

"Well, let's do this."

#rpdr fanfiction #trinity taylor #sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #lesbian au #wedding au #ill be your biggest fan #concrit welcome #roza

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artificialqueens · 6 years

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If Samson and Delilah Lived Happily Ever After (Sashea)- Melon

A/N:

To those of you who actually remember this fic: I’m so sorry. I know it’s been over four months. I know.

I’m a day later than I promised, but we always knew I was a liar. I also promised a weekly update schedule, too. I’m actually hoping to get back on that, or at least updating as much as I possibly can. I genuinely love this story, and I’m gonna get it done y'all, I swear.

This chapter (2k words) is about partially just Shea’s day, including a lot of character exploration for her, but not necessarily focused on the actual plot. It gives you a good sense of who Shea is in this world, but it’s not crucial to the story. The second half is the date! A lot of fluff, Sashea getting to know each other better, developing their dynamic, and just overall good gayness. I’m trying a new format for the poems, let me know what you think on my fic blog!

Part One Part Two Part Three Side Blog

Sasha and Shea swap schedules over the weekend, planning out the logistics in between banter. A movie takes too long, wouldn’t want to be late for the show; it’s too early for dinner and too late for lunch, and Shea doesn’t share Sasha’s belief that time is a social construct that should be ignored when at all possible; they’re broke as hell, so extravagant dates are a solid no. Sasha suggests meeting up at a fro-yo place in Bushwick and just walking around afterwards.

It’s a risk. Shea knows she wants Sasha, but she doesn’t really know her, not yet. A spark of chemistry across a room doesn’t secure a lifetime of happiness, or whatever, and it’s easy to forget how someone made her feel for a moment in the hours that followed it- plus there’s no time limit to an ‘eat and walk around’ date besides the show. The show they’re going to together.

They could run out of things to say.

Shea types out her agreement, they plan to meet three hours before the show. Being prepared for the worst has never hurt Shea in the past, but she can’t stand in her own way here.

———-

Saturday morning sees Shea up before dawn, dance bag in hand as she heads to the cheapest coffee shop within a ten mile radius. She’s exhausted, but she’s always exhausted, always moving, figuring out the bare minimum hours she has to work at her day job to pay rent and be able to buy a morning coffee when she desperately needs it.

She smiles at the barista despite her lack of sleep. Her mama raised her right.

The studio walls welcome her home when she arrives, unchanged since she last saw them two days ago. The sun is just coming above the city horizon, painting the room orange and shining in the wall of mirrors. Everything is either shadow or warmth, the safety of darkness succumbing to the small windows left of her without a fight. She rarely sees the dance hall in the daylight, usually arriving at closer to one AM for a late night practice. It’s pretty. It’s a little strange.

Facing the glass covered wall in front of her, Shea begins her stretches. Everything in the world around her slows with her body, moving like elastic bands, expanding as she pulls towards each limb’s end. She’s unaware of anything outside of her own vision, a movie that no one watched because the director chose to shoot in black-and-white despite making it in 2010.

This moment is what she lives for. It’s the power that comes only when she’s on, performing or practicing, facing down her own physical form or the limits of her creative mind. Shea is all powerful when she’s in artistic spaces, removed from the clatter of the world. She was born to be in a world of loud talking, messy bitches- but the calm of this moment is part of her, too.

The stretches morph into routines, mapping out ideas that push her body ever so slightly out of its comfort zone. She’s still connected to her physical form enough to know her limits. Somewhere in the distance, far away from her conscious, Shea’s phone is playing music and recording her spontaneous changes to the choreography.

It’s now that she thinks of Sasha, when she’s half in tune with her body and even less in tune with her mind.

Here, Shea is focusing on her heart.

The pragmatist still runs in the background, reminding her to keep an eye on the time, planning her outfit, telling her to wear sensible shoes even though pumps go better with those jeans, but it’s quieted.

The loudest voice says to remember the night she first saw Sasha. How Sasha looked at her the way so many had before her but better because Shea wanted to look at her back. How Shea doesn’t know her, but knows she wants to. How she ran the first night. And then, how she came back.

It helps that she’s a good kisser, too.

Her train of thought comes to a stop as the next song comes to an end, her time in the studio going with them. She’s almost surprised to see that the world continued on after she abandoned it, but the sun’s higher now, the streets below more crowded. Time to go home, get ready.

———-

Sasha finds Shea on a park bench outside Frosty’s five minutes before they’re supposed to meet up. She’s on her phone, scrolling through an endless stream of some social media that reflects in her sunglasses. God I hope it’s not Tumblr, Sasha thinks.

Shea glances up, smiling when she sees Sasha. “Hey, good looking,” she calls. “How’s it going?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Sasha asks in her low, joking tone, hair bouncing with the movement of her head. Shea stands, reaching Sasha in a few long strides. She pulls her close, placing an air kiss on either cheek, separating with a gentle squeeze of Sasha’s waist. It’s all too fluid, too casual, to be reserved just for Sasha- but God does she wish it was.

“Come on, let’s head in.”

Many describe a perfect a perfect pair as two who contrast each other in every way, sharing only core pieces. Yin and Yang. The two that argue constantly but have a deeper understanding.

Those people missed Sasha and Shea entering a tiny frozen yogurt store side by side. They don’t stand stronger in stark contrast to each other, but rather gravitate towards each other because of how much they look like they belong in the same world.

Shea finishes choosing her flavors and toppings in under two minutes. Sasha takes…longer. She wants to try a new flavor but doesn’t want to sample each one that looks interesting. Shea’s glancing at her in both annoyance and amusement, her own yogurt already paid for. Sasha’s walking in between stations, eyebrows furrowed in a way that is not entirely unadorable. Shea can’t help but smile to herself. They have enough time for Shea to humor Sasha’s five minute internal struggle over dessert.

After way too long of a decision making process, Sasha steps up to the cashier, smiling as she hands him four dollars. Shea notes this, checking off the “nice to service industry workers” box in her mental list. It’s a small thing, but it says a lot.

The pair make their way out. Neither remembers who holds the door for who, but someone does and it’s nice. Sasha curves towards Shea once on the sidewalk, legs crossing as she walks. She’s radiating the midday sunshine right back at Shea.

“So who’s on for tonight?” She asks. Shea has to think for a moment, even though she set up the schedule. She hosts every other week, Trinity taking the other half of the schedule when she’s in town, so it’s hard to keep up with who she planned last time she hosted and who she has tonight.

“Well, there’s Val, I think, if she shows up. Aja for sure, Nina, myself, and Trinity.” The cast is a genuinely good one, especially Aja, who usually reserves her poetry for her house meetings.

“Val was really interesting last time. I don’t fully remember what she said, but I remember being impressed by how she captivates a crowd,” Sasha pauses, thinking of how to word her observation of the poet, “The audience see as the embodiment of an idealistic worldview, which I actually agree with- she is. She’s beautiful, positive, and a natural entertainer,” she says, but it’s missing the end, like she’s holding back her full opinion because of Shea.

“But did you like her?”

“No,” Sasha laughingly admits. “I liked the whiny one way better,” she giggles, doing her best to mimic the high pitched, toddler-esque noises that often came out of Farrah’s mouth. Shea laughs with her failed attempts, and harder at her successes. Sasha gets eerily good at impersonating the tiny blonde.

“You,” Shea pauses to catch her breath, “You shady bitch, stop it or I’m gonna drop my ice-cream.” She’s not lying- said frozen yogurt had nearly fallen with Shea’s laughter shaken body multiple times. Being here with Sasha, giggling over the dumbest shit imaginable, felt right. She almost misses the hours passing.

The conversation takes them through the streets, stopping to step into an antique store here and there, but never finding something worth buying.

They never quite stop laughing.

Sasha and Shea start walking to the bar just before sunset, comfortable silence overcoming them as night took hold of the city. They no longer have to say anything to prove they were capable of talking to each other in the first place- they could if they wanted to, but for now they were both content with just walking next to each other.

They break apart at the entrance, Sasha joining her friends in the crowd, Shea disappearing behind the scenes to organize everyone. Sasha keeps the midday sunshine in her smile all the way to the table Pepper saved for herself, Aja, and Sasha.

Sasha settles next to her friend, ignoring the raised eyebrow presented to her in favor of stealing a sip Pep’s drink. She scrunches her nose at the unexpectedly boozy cocktail. “Peppermint it’s literally 6:00. This is a midnight drink,” Sasha says disparagingly.

“I am getting tired of you judging my life choices, Sasha,” Peppermint snatches the drink back, since it clearly won’t be appreciated by her friend. “You forget, I knew you in college.”

“Oh god, I wasn’t that bad,” Sasha smiles, thinking back on her and Pep’s first years of friendship. Okay, she wasn’t very good, either, if she’s honest, but she was hardly alone. Getting your Masters is hard, especially when your parents are such hyper-intellectual academics; the pressure was a lot. Young Sasha deserved to have a little fun.

“You kept up bitch, you kept up,”

“Shh, they’re getting started. You can remind me of all the mistakes I’ve made later,” Sasha casually leans against Peppermint as Shea opens the show. Shea magically located a pair of heels backstage, somehow. Sasha’s becoming more and more convinced of her initial Goddess theory.

“How you guys doing tonight?” Shea yells to the crowded room, easily heard over the remaining chatter. Her energy is a lot brighter now than the first show Sasha attended, exuberant instead of smooth and mischievous. She’s riling them up, pushing their energy to its peak, and they’re responding.

Sasha realizes Shea’s finished speaking while Sasha watched the crowd, stepping off the stage for the first performer. This time, Sasha’s eyes don’t follow her- she knows where Shea will be for the next few minutes, the way Shea will interact with the people backstage- she’s no less enraptured by Shea, but there’s already a comfortability there. She can enjoy the actual show, for once.

Her reaction to Shea coming onstage for her own piece doesn’t change, though. Shea still walks like that, like she meant to drive her heel through the wood instead of on top of it, still steals the air from everyone’s lungs when she speaks.

She skips an introduction, again, she usually does for her own pieces. She knows the audience remembers her name.

“Before I found me:

I have words to speak,

but will not.

Tucked into an alcove,

my tongue sewn safely into the lining of my cheek,

I am lost.

Teeth clamped tight around a final shred of dignity,

embalmed,

saved posthumously,

but the rotting has started to leak.

Bodies of text embossed,

growing moss in a grove

covers everything Brown.

Tongue-in-cheek

is not a subtle death,

but it is a silent one.

One nobody likes to confront

because loud women are just so

inconvenient.”

It’s longer than most- sadder. She carried the weight of it in her stomach, as though it will be safe there. Sasha hopes it will be, for Shea’s sake. Uncurling herself from the melancholy of her piece, Shea addresses the audience a final time, introducing the last act. Sasha desperately tries to listen to her, but she keeps getting caught up in her voice while missing her words.

Shea steps off the stage for the second to last time, taking the energy of the past few minutes with her. Sasha can only watch her go hopelessly.

Shea is, undeniably, turning into a problem for her. She’s pretty sure she’s okay with it.

#sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #fluff #lesbian au #melon #rpdr fanfiction #samson and delilah

28 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 7 years

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Moments (Sashea) - H

AN: Hi there! I know I’m getting repetitive but I really am grateful for every single note I get on this story, so thank you so, so much! Last chapter was a bit heavier, but we are definitely back on fluff with this one, which brings me to a DISCLAIMER: I’m tagging this as smut even though it’s more centered on feelings and sensations than actual physical action. Still, if it makes you in any way uncomfortable, I suggest stopping about half way through. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: a collection of moments and memories, a journey through Shea and Sasha’s emotions as their relationship develops.

Chapter 5

Moving in together felt right.

There was an aura of pure joy surrounding the two queens, neither of them able to stop smiling and giggling as they spent the day moving things from one apartment to the other.

That morning, they had both woken up extra early, but full of energy, ready to finally give their love a new, official home.

When she arrived to pick Shea up, Sasha was beaming from ear to ear, Shea’s heart fluttering just at the thought of having the possibility to wake up to that view every single morning. They were going to have a little safe space for themselves only, a place to lay all of their memories into, no more distance dictating how much time they could spend together, no more mornings waking up alone, hugging a pillow that didn’t hold the other’s scent.

They would finally create a scent of their own, a scent that would unmistakably mean home.

Of course, Shea had been to Sasha’s place countless times before, but there was a new sparkle in her eyes as she watched the New Yorker carefully place all of her things in the right spots, little Vanya following close behind, sniffing around every new item brought into the house.

They rearranged spaces in every drawer and closet, Shea being well aware that things would eventually get confused, not long until they would start going out in each other’s favorite clothes, but she didn’t mind, she wanted it, she wanted all of it.

She wanted Sasha to tell her off for squeezing their toothpaste from the middle of the tube, she wanted to sigh while putting away her art supplies that would inevitably be left scattered all over the table.

She wanted to let her take the last piece of cake, and she wanted her to draw pictures and comics of them to hang on every wall.

It was the little things that Shea couldn’t wait to discover about Sasha, and living together brought them all up one by one.

Like how close Sasha and Vanya really were. There was nothing that made Shea smile more than coming home to the two of them waiting for her, fast asleep huddled together on the sofa. There was nothing more endearing than seeing Sasha’s eyes light up every time Vanya would jump on the bed and playfully lick her face to wake her up.

The small dog had been a little wary of Shea for a while, not being used to having her around all the time. He would always jump on Sasha’s side of the bed, nudge Sasha’s leg during dinner, sit on Sasha’s lap during movie nights, and Shea had always been “cool” about it.

Or tried to, anyway.

“Your pest hates me.” She complained to her one night.

“He doesn’t hate you, he just loves me more.” Sasha teased, a twinge of smugness in her voice. “Why, is someone jealous?”

“I ain’t jealous of no devil dog.” She countered.

Sasha chuckled “He’ll come to it, give him time.”

“Whatever.”

Shea knew it was silly, but she just wanted the puppy to like her, which was why, when out of nowhere one afternoon Vanya jumped on their bed and curled up with his head resting right under Shea’s chin, she couldn’t contain her happiness.

She tried to play casual but she was sure the baffled look she must have had on her face gave her away, and if Sasha’s fond and beaming smile was anything to go by, she was just as happy.

Something else Shea hadn’t had to chance to see before was how much Sasha liked cooking.

“I’ve learned to value food and nutrition, and I want to make it a pleasurable part of my day, without being afraid of it anymore.” She had admitted during one of their first dinners at home together, and Shea couldn’t be more proud of her.

So when that time of the day came, they would both strip down to comfortable clothes, put on some light music and start preparing.

Shea couldn’t help but notice how Sasha liked to accompany herself with a glass of Prosecco wine while she cooked dinner, which soon became a habit for the both of them, when no matter who was cooking, they always made sure the other had a glass, too.

Shea loved to watch Sasha dance around the kitchen, swaying her hips to whatever song they had put in the background, usually shirtless. She found herself staring at her back muscles more often than not, sometimes lightly tracing her fingers along the curvature of her spine while they sipped the wine together, sometimes taking her phone out to take silly pictures of themselves being domestic.

Sometimes, or many times, she couldn’t keep herself from hugging the bald queen from behind, pulling her close with her hands on her hips, feeling her push her head back, soft content sighs leaving her lips as she kissed along her neck and jaw line.

She also had to learn how that would lead to a burned dinner, but a very, very good time.

The thing Shea had come to love the most though, was how adorably drowsy Sasha got when she started scratching her scalp.

It had been random the first time she had done it. She was cuddling with Sasha on the sofa, mindlessly massaging her skin with her fingertips, just trying to ease the headache she had confessed on having earlier in the day, not at all expecting her to full on moan.

Shea laughed at that, stopping for a second. “What was that?” She asked, still giggling.

Sasha pushed her head against Shea’s hand again, tired voice dropping an octave lower. “That was so relaxing.” She purred out.

So Shea kissed her forehead and continued, keeping a now curious eye on Sasha, noticing her eyelids drooping, her breaths slowly evening out, a drunk-like smile decorating her lips.

In that moment she looked like the most delicate snowflake, but it made a much more powerful statement in Shea’s mind.

She valued the fact that Sasha was now able to show even her most vulnerable and soft sides, the ones that she sometimes feared to show, more that she valued anything in the world.

She valued being one of the very few people who could see her like this, her small figure curled up and snuggled against her chest being such a contrast to the strong and independent individual she stood up to be every day.

She looked so relaxed, comfortable, cozy.

It was so damn cute Shea felt her heart break at the thought of having to awaken her to go upstairs.

So she didn’t.

She just picked Sasha up, feeling her nuzzle her face in the crook of her neck, and carried her in their bedroom.

They held each other extra tight that night.

Shea loved intimate moments like that, when she could pamper Sasha with affection, cuddles and kisses, letting her be the little spoon, letting her know she was taken care of. And it was clear how much Sasha loved it too, always reserving Shea tighter hugs than the ones she gave anyone else, always making sure to give her a kiss as the last thing she did before going to bed, and another as the first thing she did upon waking up in the morning, her very special way of saying thank you for being here.

So if it became their nightly ritual then, if Sasha would make grabby hands at Shea, pink lips forming the most adorable pout, softly asking “Carry me?” even if she wasn’t tired nor sleepy, ad if she would wait till late at night for Shea to come back from the club, just to make sure to always give her a goodnight/thank you kiss before falling asleep in her arms, nobody complained.

Shea didn’t mind being on the giving end of that kind of affection, because Sasha was always there to let the younger queen lean on her in many other ways, so taking care of Sasha, giving back to her in those intimate moments, was something that Shea gave immense importance to. She felt pride in seeing her defenses crashing down and her confidence build up, not only mentally, but physically as well.

It was by exploring every side of Sasha that Shea was able to fall more and more in love; having access to every side of this person she had once considered so unreachable made her feel more and more loved.

Moving in together had finally made all of it a hundred percent possible, allowing their relationship to really explode, making them reach a level of intimacy Shea didn’t know they could reach, and again, it came with everything new she was discovering about Sasha.

Naturally, after months of being together, it wasn’t thanks to a shared apartment that they had their first time having sex, nor their first time making love, but Shea could feel how much Sasha was truly letting go now.

She could see it in the way she had started taking her clothes off much more slowly, teasing, tempting, allowing herself to indulge into playing with sensuality, letting Shea’s eyes linger on her body as much as she wanted.

Sasha had gradually stopped covering her torso with her arms, letting Shea pin them above her head, baring her whole body for Shea to touch and cover with kisses and marks. She wouldn’t shy away from her compliments anymore, face breaking into a breathtaking smile when Shea would tell her how beautiful she was, breathing out sincere thank yous and “You’re beautiful too” in between gasps.

And it was true. There really was nothing more beautiful to Shea than seeing Sasha so vulnerable and exposed beneath her, yet so trusting and free. It made Shea’s head spin to see her arch her back in ecstasy, with her legs shaking around Shea’s torso, shameless and stunning.

She could hear her letting herself go in her pretty high pitched moans, too, in the way they would get incoherent and fast, or soft and drawn out, matching Shea’s pace.

At the beginning of their relationship she would always cover her mouth or bite in the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds, but there was no holding back now, loud moans and pleas continuously escaping her mouth, not afraid to beg for more, beg for faster, and Shea was always more than eager to comply. She loved how submissive Sasha could be, putting all of her needs in Shea’s hands, trusting her to satisfy them, and she wanted to make sure to always give Sasha as much as she could, to make her scream, to make her tremble, because there was nothing more inebriating that seeing her completely surrender herself to pleasure, and Shea loved to get drunk on it.

She loved how Sasha would still trust her to be in control even when it was her who spun them around, getting on top and taking the lead, dictating the pace, moving her hips how she wanted to, but still letting Shea pull her close to leave marks on her neck and clavicles, or letting Shea support her and hold her up as she reached her high and shook too much to steady herself.

Shea could feel Sasha completely baring herself in every single movement and sigh, in every slow and intense love making session, and in every quick and passion driven outburst.

But most importantly, she could see it while staring deep into her eyes, as they laid naked together, both breathless and panting, still coming down from the high, as Sasha would tell how much she loved her, how glad she was that it was her.

It was in those moments that she could feel how much their souls were connecting, creating a magical bond, something so powerful that it sent shots of energy all over their bodies every single time they connected.

It was in those moments that she could see how much of herself Sasha was putting out there, how many insecurities she was pushing away to so openly express her feelings to Shea.

And it was in those moments, as she held her close in the place that was now their home, with their scent and their memories, while telling Sasha how much she loved her too, that Shea crossed her heart and hoped to die, she was never going to make her regret it.

AN: Thank you again for reading this, I hope you liked it. We’re almost at the end of this small journey, next chapter is going to be the last, so let me know what you thought of this penultimum chapter. Also, sorry for the millionth time for any mistake I might have missed. Writing in English turned out to be trickier than I thought. That’s all for now, I’m sending you big hugs, and untill next time, don’t forget to love yourself. Ciao!

-H

#sashea #moments #h #smut #sasha velour #shea coulee #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Art Museums and Insecurities (Sashea) - Emily

I’ve never written anything like this before, and even if I had I certainly wouldn’t have shared it, so please be kind. There are 3160 words, Sasha is a museum tour guide, Shea is in her group one day. I may or may not submit more stuff. I hope you like it!

The sun rose outside her window, light streaming through the slatted blinds, and Sasha blinked. She hadn’t been asleep, but she had been trying to get there. She had been trying to get there all night, but as the light stung her tired eyes, she knew there was no hope. She looked back at the indention her muscled body had made on her old bed longingly, wanting nothing more than to down some NyQuil and just lay right back down, but she had responsibilities that prevented her from doing that. She should be thankful, really. She had a job to get to, which was something she couldn’t claim for many years. It wasn’t the best paying job, but she did enjoy it. She stood up, her normally graceful legs wavering under her body weight, her whole body suffering from her lack of sleep. She popped some bread in the toaster and some Advil in her mouth, a glass of water helping the medicine down. It wasn’t exactly sugar, but it was still satisfying to her dry throat, and better for her. She padded over to the toaster in her brightly colored, fuzzy socks to wait for her charred toast- just the way she liked it. She grabbed the toast by the corners, dropping both pieces unceremoniously onto her plate, and slathered butter onto them. She chomped down and was promptly covered in crumbs. She brushed them off of her t-shirt, then realized she was still in her pajamas. She tossed the rest of the bread in her mouth and hurried to her room, thanking a god she didn’t believe in that she had a uniform. She tugged her pajama shorts down and kicked them to the corner of her room, pulling the tight black pencil skirt up to her waist. She yanked off her t-shirt and scrambled to find her bra. Where did I take it off, where did I take it off? she thought. She found it laying haphazardly on a pile of magazines next to her chair, and clasped it hurriedly, pulling her white button up shirt over her shoulders and frantically buttoning it. She rushed to the bathroom and shoved her toothbrush in her mouth, toothpaste spilling out the corners of her soon-to-be-painted lips. She spit and rinsed her mouth, pushing her hair back as she did so and deciding to just tie it in a ponytail. She glanced at her phone, knowing she should’ve set an alarm this morning, but also knowing that she would’ve tried to get back to sleep anyway. She cursed herself for both of those things. She grabbed a tube of lipstick and shoved it into the pocket of her skirt, quickly applying mascara as she ran out the door. She looked at the time on her phone once more, knowing that she could make it to the subway in time if she ran. Hopefully. She darted down the stairs of her building, low high heels in hand. When she reached the door, she shoved her feet into them, wishing she had gotten a slightly bigger pair, but also knowing that she would never get rid of these old reliables. She ran down the sidewalk and towards the subway station, not bothering to note her surroundings as she normally would. Or as she thought she would have liked to if she could ever get out of bed on time. She ran her MetroCard through the machine and sighed heavily when she realized that she would need to put more money on it for tomorrow. She rushed to the train and jumped on, barely missing the closing doors. She wrapped her hand around the pole in the center of the car, maneuvering her hand so that she didn’t touch anyone else’s. It was difficult on the busy morning train, which smelled of stale coffee, lipstick, and second hand smoke. And faintly of urine, now that she thought about it. But she tried to focus more on the compact she balanced in the two fingers she hadn’t wrapped around the bar. She applied the red lipstick as carefully as she could on a moving train, and smiled to herself when she didn’t mess it up. The train lurched to a stop and she put the lipstick back into her pocket and got off the train. She passed slow people and took the stairs two at a time. She crossed the road without looking but knew she wouldn’t be hurt. The traffic in New York City in summer never moved.

She pulled open the museum doors, happy for the blast of cool air that hit her face as she did. She briefly studied herself in the glass, noting that the lipstick made her look particularly pale, but not caring. She still liked it. She smoothed the pencil skirt with her hands and jogged to her post, where she waited impatiently for her first tour group. She was a tour guide at an art museum, and she couldn’t imagine a better job for herself short of becoming a professional artist. She didn’t have to wait long as a group of people bounded up to the podium she stood behind and informed her that they had reserved a tour. They were of varying heights, ages, and ethnic backgrounds, but one of them still did not seem like the others. In the best way. She was taller than Sasha by a few inches, but it was hard to tell if she would still be that way without the killer heels she wore. They were pink and matched the outfit she wore perfectly. The three quarter length, off the shoulder sleeves on the fitted sweater and chunky belt that separated it from her tight pink skirt accentuated her beautiful and strong figure. She had shoulder length straight black hair that she wore down, framing her face. Her dark skin was the opposite of Sasha’s vampiric complexion. She was stunning, and Sasha found herself all but drooling over her. She snapped out of it when one of the younger members of the group tugged at her sleeve. “Right. So if you’ll follow me this way, we will go in chronological order, finishing out the tour with modern art.” she walked down the hall and stopped in front of each painting, giving a brief explanation of it, then ushering the group along.

Normally she loved her job, she loved educating people about art and seeing their reactions to each piece, but all she could look at was the dark girl in pink. She was more beautiful than any piece there. She stopped abruptly on the stairs leading to the next floor and era of art. “Let’s… go around and say our names.” she had never done anything like that before. It wasn’t her job to make personal connections, it was her job to talk about the art. But she couldn’t help herself. She had to know the girl’s name. She pointed a finger at her and silently wished that her nail polish wasn’t chipped. “You start,” she instructed. The girl raised her eyebrows but complied. “I’m Shea.” she stated simply. Confidently. Her voice was higher than Sasha’s, and sounded almost musical. Sasha smiled at her. “Welcome Shea,” she said. For a moment, she just looked at her. When she finally realized that she had to ask the others now, she sheepishly asked, “Um, who’s next?”. The others went around and told her their names, but she didn’t hear them. Shea, she thought. It was a beautiful name, and it suited her. She turned when the last person said their name and continued up the stairs, smiling to herself slightly, and glancing back at the girl- Shea- whenever she could.

She stopped on the next floor and busied herself explaining the artworks. Then came the interactive part of the tour on the modern art floor. She had to do very little then, as people were free to touch the art installations. They could climb on them and walk through them, move them around. They loved it. They always did. But Shea, apparently, was content to just watch. She stood next to Sasha, and she could smell her perfume. It was sweet, but not little-girly. It was perfect, just like she was. Shea leaned over to her and whispered, “You have been staring at me.”. Sasha’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth as if to speak but thought better of it. Shea just laughed. “I’m not upset. I love being stared at. Especially by pretty girls such as yourself,” she said, still whispering, still dangerously close to Sasha. It sent chills down Sasha’s spine. Shea glanced down at her name tag. “Sasha.” she said. She looked up at her from underneath her thick eyelashes. Sasha gulped, and tried to regain her composure, but knew that she had already lost any amount of professionalism she may have started off with. She licked her lips nervously. Shea looked her up and down, a smug smile dancing on her mouth. She winked. “I’ll see you Sasha,”. She turned on her high high heel and walked away. Sasha wondered if she even knew the people in the group.

Shea was all Sasha could think about the rest of the day. When Sasha got home, she immediately changed out of her work clothes and into a smock. She grabbed a brush and a canvas and went to work. She painted with more passion than she had felt in a long while, the tiredness she usually felt falling away. She used browns and pinks to fill the canvas, swooping lines with few minute details. She stepped back, shaking out her wrist and admiring her work. It was Shea. She could tell. But it was just shapes, just colors. She desperately wanted to paint Shea for real. To have Shea pose for her. But it was enough to satiate her for now. She sighed and washed her hands, untying her smock and flopping down on her bed. She slept.

When she woke up, the sun was already in the sky. She had overslept horrifically. She jumped out of bed, quickly checking the time. Fuck. She had none. She got dressed as quickly as she could, not bothering to eat breakfast, grabbing her makeup off of the sink and shoving it in her pockets. She barely had her skirt zipped as she rushed out the door. She ran down the stairs, out the door, down the street, then into the dark subway station. It smelled worse than usual. She groaned as she realized there was nothing on her MetroCard and jumped the turnpike. A few people called after her but she ignored them. She ran to the platform and leapt onto the train. Out of breath, she thanked every god she was aware of that there was an open seat. She applied her makeup shakily, her heart still pounding from fear and the most running she had done since high school. But it was still expertly applied, and she nodded at her reflection in her compact, pleased with her work. When she got to her stop, she sprung out of her seat and onto the platform, passing people slower than she was, but allowing herself to take the stairs one at a time. She crossed the street and walked into the air conditioned building.

She stood at her post, wishing she had accepted a stool when she had had the chance. She glanced around the building, boredom clear on her face. A group walked up to her post, and she smiled sweetly at them. She gave their tour, then another, then another, until… “Hi Sasha. Remember me?” Shea asked coyly. She was wearing a sheer gold dress with another chunky belt and a gold jacket, she had large bracelets adorning both wrists, and looked positively marvelous. Sasha was stunned. “Wh-what are you doing here?” she stammered. Shea smiled and revealed rows of crooked teeth. Her smile was beautiful. “Well the tour yesterday was just so good, I wanted another one. But this time, I want a private tour. Think you could do that for me?”. Sasha nodded. “I gue-I guess so.” she said. “Um… right this way.”. She began to lead Shea around the museum, but Shea didn’t seem interested in the art. “So, are you an artist yourself?” Shea asked. Sasha looked shyly at her feet, running her hand through her messy hair and realizing that she had never fixed it. Her hands were covered in paint, and as much as she tried to keep her work clothes paint free, there were little pink splatters on the collar. “What gave it away?” she asked, trying to keep the tone of the conversation light and flirty. Shea smiled that perfectly imperfect smile of hers and rubbed the collar of Sasha’s shirt between her thumb and forefinger, then trailing the latter down Sasha’s arm and to her paint stained hand, which she picked up. She surveyed Sasha’s hands. “The hands of an artist are an amazing thing, don’t you think?” she asked. Sasha nodded. Shea looked up at her darkly, tantalizingly. “I’d love to see your work sometime.” she said. Surprised, Sasha looked up at her. “Really?” she asked excitedly, like a child who had been complimented by an adult. Shea smiled, this time sweetly, admiring Sasha’s apparent innocence. “Yes, of course.”. “Um, well… my shift is almost over, you’re my last tour of the day. You could come over if you want.” she replied shyly. Shea couldn’t get the stupid smile off of her face and cursed herself for it. But Sasha was just so endearing… “Yeah, I’d love to.” she told her. Sasha smiled. “Okay. I just have to go punch out. I’ll meet you at the main doors.”. “I’ll be waiting.”. Sasha all but skipped away, and Shea watched her. She shook her head and walked away smiling.

Sasha was sure to be quick punching out, not wanting to leave Shea waiting. She realized that she had come off as childish and a bit naive, and told herself that she would be cool from now on. But when she saw the beautiful woman waiting for her, she wanted to be bubbly and effusive, she wanted to be as happy outwardly as Shea made her feel. Contain yourself. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the encounter. She walked as confidently as she could over to Shea. “Ready to go?” she asked. Shea nodded and looked the other woman up and down. Shea was younger than Sasha, but you wouldn’t know it from their exchanges. Shea was cool and self-assured- she’d had to be. Being the only black girl at her school for the majority of her life had made her tough. The only way she could get by was to love herself with everything she had. Sasha was the opposite. She had also stood out in her high school. She had grown up in a small town- well, small compared to Chicago where Shea grew up- and had been one of the few openly queer people there. She had been teased her whole life for that, and later for how thin she was as she struggled with anorexia. Shea had had bulimia, and would’ve understood. But they didn’t know these things about each other yet. They knew that Sasha was smart and sweet, and Shea was strong and confident. They never would’ve guessed at the struggles the other had been through. They never would’ve guessed that they would have so much in common. Or that they’d go on to spend as much time together as possible. That they’d fight viciously and make up minutes later, knowing that they loved each other too much to continue. They didn’t know that their relationship was more important than whatever they were fighting about. They just knew that they were drawn to each other.

When they reached Sasha’s small apartment, Shea felt that pull more than ever. Sasha couldn’t contain her excitement anymore and as soon as Shea showed the tiniest bit of interest in a certain piece, she would launch into a monologue about why she had painted it, what feelings or events inspired it, why she had chosen that style, and why it was important to her. Shea took in the room and listened with rapt attention to each word Sasha said. Something pink caught her eye, and she wandered over to it as Sasha walked around looking for a specific piece to show her. Shea picked up the canvas from where it had been tucked behind a chair. She studied the surface and knew what it was. It was her. Sasha looked up at her, “Well I can’t seem to find it right n- Oh. Yeah, about that…” she trailed off. Shea looked over at her. “It’s amazing. I can’t believe you did this. I can’t believe that I… inspired this. Inspired you.”. Sasha looked at her feet awkwardly. “Yes, well, beauty like yours is rare, it would’ve been a shame not to paint you. But I could never do the art piece that you are justice.”.

Shea set the painting down and stepped forward, advancing towards Sasha. She trailed her finger along the smaller woman’s jaw line and lifted her chin. Sasha reluctantly looked up at her. They stood like that for a moment. Shea inched closer and Sasha just stood, transfixed by the creature in front of her, admiring every inch. Shea slowly placed a kiss on Sasha’s lips, growing more passionate as Sasha leaned into it. She moved her hands down Sasha’s smaller frame, tracing her spine and resting her hands on her hips. Sasha, emboldened by the attention, pulled Shea’s jacket off and tossed it to the floor. She undid the belt at Shea’s waist and groped her way back up to the woman’s shoulders. She tugged the sleeves down, and shimmied the dress off of her. Shea was wearing a black bra with matching underwear- it was like she had known this was happening. Sasha was grateful to still be dressed, but it didn’t last long. Shea began expertly unbuttoning her shirt to reveal her plain white bra, the one she wore every day. Shea pulled the shirt out from where it was tucked into Sasha’s skirt, then worked the zipper. Sasha was more self conscious than she liked to admit. Both women stepped back to admire the other. Looking down bashfully, Sasha began to ramble. “My body’s not like yours, it’s not very good, my breasts are small and I just-” Shea silenced her. “You are the most beautiful woman I could possibly imagine. Never forget that.”.

Fin.

#sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #implied smut #art museums and insecurities #emily #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au

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