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braveclementine · 1 month

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I'm Running Out of Chapter Names

Warnings: 18+readersonly, pet names, oral, daddy kink, smut, lots of angst, fluff

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs, which consist of Penny Fury, Elizabeth Nelson, Elijah Chan, Katya Venice, Violetta Moscow, Lan Le, Josh, Trang Tien, Ahni Jallow, Mai Ito, and Ghaida Kashual as well as other OCs that will come up throughout the story.

Ghaida in her bridesmaid dress at Elizabeth and Elijahs' wedding.

🫔👩‍🎓 şŤㄖℝү 😱🥗

"Tony." Trang whined, pushing away the man hovering constantly by her side. "I'm pregnant, not handicapped or dying. I need my work space."

"Sorry." Tony retreated like a puppy with his tail between his legs, hovering at a much better distance, "I'm just worried."

"Yes, and I love that about you, but I'm fine. The lil' baby is fine. We're all fine. Now go back to your work bubs." Trang smirked, pushing her glasses up on her nose, turning back to her new project.

They were new arrows for Clint, Katya, and Kate. Inspired by Elizabeth's water, any person hit with them would turn into a cube of ice. But there were still a few kinks that had to be worked out with the firing of the tips.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty? Maybe you shouldn't be on your feet right now." Tony fretted, pacing a little.

Trang put the arrows down, turned, and walked over to Tony. She pushed him down into his chair and straddled him. Bruce looked up from his work and started to watch.

"Tony." Trang said in a warning voice. She wrapped her hand tightly around his tie. "You really, really need to be a good boy, okay?"

"Yep." Tony piped out, wrapping his arms around her waist, leaning forwards to kiss along her collarbone.

"You're being bad." But Trang laughed as he tickled her lightly, hugging him tightly. "Damnit Tony."

"I'm gonna tell Cap you said a bad word." Tony said gleefully, standing up with her in his arms, kissing her again, and then putting her down on her feet, "I am sorry about the hovering. I'm just excited."

"I know." Trang said softly, cupping his face and rubbing her thumb against his cheek. "I'm excited too Tony, but I didn't want a baby to change the way you treat me. That's all. I'm fine. Nothing's changed."

"You're gonna be a mom." Tony whispered against her hair. "Of my child. God I fucking love you."

Trang smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Now go work Tony."

"Yes momma." Tony kissed the top of her head and went back to his work station.

Bruce chuckled and went back to work as well. Trang winked at him, "Love you too Bruce."

Bruce laughed louder now and said, "Love you too Trang. I sort've love you Tony."

"Hey, feelings mutual man." Tony smirked, clapping the other male scientist on the back.

And behind the corner of the wall, a young African American girl clenched her fists in jealousy.

❌🥿 𝕡Ỗｖ 𝐜ⓗÃή𝓰ε 🦔🔭

"You're getting so big." Steve whispered. Penny was laying in his bed, the two of them alone together as Steve ran the fetoscope across her stomach, the two of them looking at the rather large baby inside of her now. "Aww he's so cute."

They didn't know the gender yet, being only roughly five-ish months now and not wanting to know until he or she was birthed. Penny still wasn't sure with names. Names were such a big responsibility. I mean, she would literally give this baby a name of which they would be called for the rest of their lives.

"Does he hurt you at all?" Steve asked in worry. "Rue kicked Elizabeth really hard when she was inside her womb. I'm sure mine will do the same."

"He doesn't kick to much." Penny said, which was true. "He's very calm so far. I'm sure later he'll kick though. But it's okay. Plus, Rue had to share room with Kisa and Mateo. This little one gets all of the room to himself." She giggled and Steve chuckled.

"I love you." Steve sighed in content, running his lips across her bump now. He kissed there sweetly and when Penny let out a soft, breathy moan, Steve smirked. He kissed lower, before slowly undoing the button of her jeans. He looked up at her through his lashes and Penny whimpered.

"You in the mood sweetheart?" Steve asked softly, slowly pulling the jeans off.

"Fuck yes." Penny fell back into the pillows as he started to touch her against her lacey lingerie.

"How do you want me to be tonight?" Steve whispered against her baby bump, kissing the mounded skin sweetly. "Demanding, sweet, loving, harsh? I don't know how you're body is feeling today so I need you to tell me."

"I want. . . a mix of sweet and demanding." Penny whispered. "I want to follow your orders, but I also need the motions to be. . . gentle today."

"Good girl. You're so good for me." Steve hummed, kissing up her thigh now, before licking a stripe through her pulsing cunt. She whined right then and there, already turned on immensely. "Oh Steve!"

"Yes, moan my name cookie." Steve mumbled against her pussy, nipping at her clit now, his large hands clenched tightly on her thighs. "I want to hear you scream when you let go now, okay? I want you to scream my name so loudly that Sammy can hear you from the roof and Bruce can hear you from the lab. Scream cookie."

His fingers pushed into her pussy, curling on her g-spot almost instantly and she arched off the bed, screaming his name till her voice felt hoarse. Black spots danced in front of her eyes and she collapsed back down on the bed, panting.

Steve hovered over her, his face amused. "Oh sweetheart. I haven't even touched you with my cock yet. If that's how you react with my fingers. . . oh cookie."

Penelope whimpered, reaching for Steve with her hands, "Please Captain? I want you inside of me."

Steve teased her clit a little longer between her fingers before he lifted her hips up. "Yes, I want to be inside of you too sweetheart. God you have such a pretty pussy. She feels like silk around me." He pushed inside, groaning, tossing his head back. "Oh you're so perfect."

"Yes." Penny sighed in pleasure, closing her eyes, tilting her head against the pillow. "Oh Stevie, that feels so so good."

"Good." Steve whispered sweetly, laying over her a little more, causing a little more pleasure. "I'm gonna roll over now, okay?"

Penny hummed and Steve rolled over so that she was now over him, sinking down on his cock a little more. Steve grabbed fistfuls of each cheek, squeezing, massaging, then spanking her a little bit. "You're gonna let me know if I spank you to hard, right cookie?" Steve asked, breathless as he continued to cup and clap her cheeks.

"Of course daddy." Penny moaned out without thinking.

Steve slapped her ass a little harder, "Daddy huh?"

Penny looked down and blushed heavily. "I- Tony-"

"No, no, don't make excuses." Steve smirked now. "It's been a while since someones called me daddy in bed." He thrusted a little harder now and Penny moaned loudly at the pleasurable feeling. "And I am gonna be a daddy aren't I? Oh yes, you can call me that again. Go on, scream it." Steve's eyes twinkled with mischief.

Steve rocked her against his hips and Penny moaned as his length stretched her walls different ways as she was rocked against him. "Oh fuck! Fuck! St- Daddy!" She collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily as her body spasmed over his.

"Oh fuck." Steve shouted, cock twitching inside of her at the nickname. "Shit cookie. Oh!" He spilled into her almost immediately, burying his face in her neck.

The two of them recovered after a moment and Steve groaned, lifting her off of him slowly. "Shit sweetheart, did I hurt you?" He asked, touching her burning ass. "Shit!" he sat up, looking panicked.

Penny quickly grabbed his arm. "It felt amazing Steve. It didn't hurt at all, I swear. I loved it."

Steve relaxed, dipping down to capture her lips. She kissed back fiercely, wishing she had more strength to take control of the kiss. Steve pulled away slowly. "Do you want me to run you a bath or do you just want me to grab you a washcloth?"

"Washcloth." Penny mumbled, snuggling against him, wrapping her limbs around him like an octopus. "Already sleepy."

"Sleep cookie." Steve kissed the side of her head and smiled as she fell asleep.

🐾😨 ℙσ𝐯 ᑕħ𝒶ⓝＧє 🔬🥘

"Hey Elijah?" Elizabeth asked quietly. He paused, not having seen her where she was sitting, looking out the window of her bedroom at New York. He walked over to where she was, sitting down next to her.

"Yes, Milady?"

"The others are all pregnant, right?" She asked, looking over at him now. "Like, they got pregnant at the same time?"

"Yes. Loki and Thor did a fertility spell. I guess it was only supposed to be for Trang but. . . well I'm not sure how it traveled. But yes, everyone is pregnant from it." Elijah said. He smiled a little. "Natasha is probably happiest of them all. She couldn't have kids before."

Elizabeth nodded and then asked, "Was this before I died?"

He sucked in his breath and then said slowly, "Yes. Yes, they conceived before. . . but they didn't find out until a few weeks ago."

"That's why I'm not pregnant." Elizabeth sighed. "I lost my baby when I died, didn't I?"

"We don't know that you were pregnant." Elijah said. "There is always a-"

"Don't lie." Elizabeth sighed. "Every woman in this building is pregnant, even ones that couldn't have children because their reproductive organs were taken out, or had their tubes tied like Sharon."

Elijah blinked, "Run that last bit by me again? You know Sharon?"

"No her name was in the book. I don't really know who she is though." Elizabeth responded.

"Ah, you've been reading Ghaida's book." He murmured.

"Yeah. It's interesting." Elizabeth shrugged. She was quiet for a moment and then said, "So I had to be. Whose child was he?"

Elijah sighed, "Do you really want to know?"

"I have to." Elizabeth said.

"I don't know." Elijah said. "But Viden knows. . . if you ask him. If you really want to know. But Elizabeth. . . if you look into this. . . you're going to be upset. And make sure before you ask that you know you can handle the answer."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed- not the golden colour that Ghaida's did- but a lime green colour. And then the tears started to spill.

🐉🤼‍♂️ ⓅỖ𝐯 𝓒ⓗᗩｎｇє ⭕️🩹

Penelope was a little sore when she sat down and ate her dinner. Steve kept smirking when she would occasionally shift around in her seat. She kept playfully glaring at him.

Elijah seemed upset over something, looking down at his food and not really eating it. She wished that she could comfort him, but no one was interacting with him as he had asked not to be. So she wouldn't push his boundaries.

Sam and Bucky were on one side of the dinner table, laughing with Clint and Rhodey as they drank and told jokes.

Elizabeth suddenly came in, making a beeline straight for Sam. She just climbed on his lap, burying her face into his shirt, and burst into quiet tears. Everyone stared at her in surprise. Penny wasn't sure that she had seen Elizabeth with anyone so affectionately before since the. . . accident except for Elijah. Oh and Bucky one day but she hadn't been well that day.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?" Sam asked, trying to pull her back a little to see her face.

"I'm sorry." She hiccupped softly, but wouldn't lift her head.

Everyone then looked, bewildered, at Elijah. Penny saw he just looked even more depressed than before, glumly just staring at Elizabeth's back. He caught Penny's eye and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"She asked Viden whose child she was pregnant with before she died." Elijah whispered quietly, as though hoping Elizabeth wouldn't hear.

Steve got up, moving over to put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Twins." Elijah muttered. "One each."

Penny didn't look over at the super soldiers, not wanting to see any of their pain on their faces. But she couldn't help it, and peaked. Sam, Bucky, and Steve all looked like their hearts had just broken, and they probably had.

"I'm sorry." Elizabeth whimpered again.

Sam stood up, carrying her in his arms and the four of them left the room. Penny got up too and went over to Elijah. She put her hand lightly on top of his. He turned his hand upwards to lace their fingers together, but didn't look at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I feel helpless." He sighed. "I can't do anything to help her. I can't. . . I don't know. I can't reverse time."

"How'd she find out anyways?" Penny asked.

"She just put two and two together. Everyone being pregnant including Natasha meant she should've been pregnant. But the date was before the death. . . so she kind've knew. And now she's also connected to Viden so. . . " Elijah shrugged. He glanced over at her, "Do you want to stay in my room tonight?"

Penny smiled a little. "Sure."

He led her to a different room that was very clearly Elijah's. Posters of different parts of Hong Kong, glass frames that held different bird feathers- each one clearly labelled. There was a small bookcase that had mostly bird books on it, also small figurines of carved birds. There was a pair of binoculars on the shelf, along with two different kinds of cameras.

There was a map of the world up against another wall, different coloured push pins in it, with small labels of which birds he hadn't seen yet and where they were. There was a large binder that was open to a page. There were polaroid pictures in it, of birds he had caught in the wild. There were also sketch books lined neatly in a box, loose scraps of paper showing pencil drawings of birds.

Penny looked over at Elijah. The slightly awkward way of which he was standing, as though waiting for a judgment call meant that she was probably one of the few people to ever be in his room.

"So you like birds?" Penny teased, carefully turning a page in the binder. There was a small journal beside it, listing all sorts of attributes for different birds. What they ate, scientific names, where they lived, what their nests looked like, their predators, their different colours, even strange put together words for what their different calls sounded like.

"I love them. Have, ever since I was a little boy." Elijah said quietly. "There's something about being in the sky, being free. Without being in an airplane or an Iron man suit. I sort've get to experience it. Mai did, Elizabeth can sort've, Katya and Sam also sort've. But Lan. . . Lan had it. His descriptions were amazing, the way he described flying. Sometimes. . . I wish I could fly like that."

Penny looked over at him, "Do you ever wish that you could just. . . fly away?"

Elijah looked up at the ceiling and Penny glanced up. The ceiling had been painted to look almost 3-D. With blue sky and white fluffy clouds that looked as though you could actually go behind them. "Steve did them." Elijah said when he saw Penny had looked up too. "For me." He sat down on his bed.

"There were times I did wish I could fly away from everything. But it wouldn't solve anything." Elijah said. "And are things difficult now? Yes. But weren't they always? Yes. And do I love the people closest to me enough that I wouldn't fly even if I could? Yes."

He lifted his shirt up over his head, tossing it in the hamper. It was the second time that Penny had seen him bare and she looked at the cheetah tattoo that was sprawled across his chest. He touched it unconsciously. "I love her, you know. More than anything in the world. She's so. . . confused. And hurt. She can't understand her emotions and even when she does she doesn't know why she feels a certain way. And I can't help her. Not really."

"Are you. . . upset that she's turned to others?"

"No." Elijah said firmly. "But I'm upset that she doesn't understand that things that happen to her, aren't her fault. That losing the twins in her wasn't her fault. She had no idea she was pregnant, had no idea she was going to die. I should've kept her home. I should've. . ."

"How were you supposed to know?" Penny asked, sitting next to him. "She didn't know, you didn't know. The only one that would know is Ghaida and she didn't ask. She didn't think to ask. You say Elizabeth shouldn't blame herself, but neither should you."

"I'm supposed to protect her."

"You're supposed to love her." Penny corrected. "But you can't shelter her every step of the way either."

Elijah was quiet for a moment and then said, "It didn't stop there. Her asking Viden about what she lost. She asked about her past. Kept asking and asking. She found out about the rapes and she's just. . ." He broke. Sobbing into his hands.

Penny pulled him into her, letting him cry into her. "I can't. . . I don't know how to do this! It wasn't supposed to be me!"

"It's okay." Penny whispered softly, both startled and sad as he cried in her arms. Even when he lost his best friends, lost Elizabeth, he hadn't broken down like this. His tears had been stoic, had been silent. Now he was like a child, unable to stop the waterfall. "It's okay."

"I'm not supposed to be alive." Elijah sobbed. "It was supposed to be Lan. It was. . . "

Penny hugged him tightly, just holding him until he'd worn himself out. When he had, he sat up, clearing his throat, scooching off the bed and going to the bathroom. When he came back, she saw he had washed his face with a washcloth.

He cleared his throat again, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize." Penny said softly, reaching out hesitantly to touch the ends of his hair. He leaned into her touch and she cupped his face, "Elijah, you're human. You're allowed to feel this way, you're allowed to show your emotions this way."

"I'm supposed to be a man." Elijah sighed. "The strong one. How can I be that, do that, when I break down like that? That's not who I am, human or not."

Penny smiled a little in understanding. "It shows you care about her. It shows that you do love her more than anyone else in your life. It's okay Elijah, I'm not going to judge you or think less of you because you showed emotions."

Elijah looked at her then, "You know that when I say I love Elizabeth more than anything in the world, I still love you too right? It doesn't mean-"

"Elijah." Penny put her hand over his. "I know that. We can't love everyone equally, we're always going to have favorites. I mean. . . okay don't tell them I said this but I love both Violetta and Katya. . . but I love Violetta more. But I still love Katya, you know?"

"Exactly." Elijah said softly and then started to smirk, "I know who you love the most though."

"Who?" Penny said, smirking because he was never going to guess it. The one she loved the most, the one at the top of her list was someone she almost never got to sleep with. But she loved him the most.

"Rhodey." Elijah smirked, opening his eyes to see the stunned look on her face, "Am I right?"

"H-how- no way- how did you-" Penny blushed bright red.

Elijah chuckled, "I admit, it was a bit surprising considering the two of you don't interact to much. But I have a few guesses. One, I think he reminds you of the character that your father has. Some of the same personality traits. Two, he's extremely sweet. He's really your ideal lover based on your type. And three, you're attracted to African American men first. So him, Sam, Heimdall, and T'Challa are all at the top of your list. And I bet if you'd known Josh a little longer he would have climbed up there as well."

Penny's face was burning as he said all of this and she covered her face with her hands, "Oh God, am I really that obvious?"

"No. I don't think Rhodey knows, whether that's good or bad news to you. I'm just extremely observant." Elijah said. He paused and then added, "I also went to college for psychology so there's that."

Penny laughed nervously. "I just, I did think it was a little weird, loving Rhodey the most when I barely interacted with him."

"You're not weird, it's not weird." Elijah reassured her, turning off the light and covering both of them with the sheets. "And listen, if you want more time with Rhodey, his Wednesdays and Sundays are always free. I can even help you out."

Penny buried her face into his chest. "What if he doesn't like me like that though?"

Elijah snorted, "Then he's a dumbass."

"I think he likes Elizabeth better." Penny said uncertainly.

"So? Who cares?" Elijah asked and then chuckled, "It's not like he's your only man Penelope. But if it makes you feel any better, he really does like you. He has been looking for more time to spend with you, he just has been busy with the army. Same with Stephen and the Sanctorum. Want my advice? Tomorrow is Wednesday, so spend it with Rhodey. And when Stephen gets back from his mission, go spend some time with him. I think you'll feel better about everything."

"You should be a psychologist." Penny muttered.

"Good to know." Elijah laughed, putting his arm around her, holding her to him. "Goodnight sunshine."

"Good night hotstuff." Penny smirked into his chest.

"Oh you're definitely paying for that nickname later." Elijah whispered and Penny shivered as she fell asleep.

🫕🦷 ᑭ𝑜𝕍 ｃĦ𝔸ηĞⒺ 🛫🩺

Sams' heart was hurting. A lot.

He, Steve, and Bucky had retired back to Steve's room- which at this point was basically all three of them room- and he was rocking back and forth with Elizabeth in his arms. She wasn't exactly sobbing, though sometimes as she tried to speak, the crying would make it incomprehensible to hear her through her hics.

"Sugar." He whispered softly, "Sugar please look at me."

Elizabeth looked at him with watery eyes. Steve and Bucky sat on either side of him, both looking lost and concerned. Neither of them knowing how to help.

"Please tell me why you're so upset." Sam whispered. He could understand, to an extent. That she had been pregnant with twins. One his, one Buckys. But to apologize to him? And it wasn't like it was her fault she had been killed. No one had known she was pregnant and she hadn't been the only one. Mai had been pregnant too, with Visions child and she was still dead.

"B-because I- I lost y- your child." Elizabeth hiccupped, not crying at the moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't- I didn't-"

"Doll." Bucky whispered softly, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Doll calm down. It's. . . it's not your fault. It's okay, alright? We're not mad at you because you didn't do anything. It's not like you wanted to die. And you didn't know you were pregnant."

Sam had stilled and Elizabeth was now rocking back and forth herself, looking uncertain. "B-But I lost them. I'm sorry!"

She dissolved into tears again. Sam noticed she couldn't even look at Steve and Sam gave Steve a raised eyebrow. Steve moved then, taking Elizabeth out of his arms. Steve curled Elizabeth into his chest, smoothing her hair back from his face. "I'm sorry." Elizabeth whimpered out, covering her eyes with her fists. "I'm sorry."

"Cookie." Steve whispered softly. "Why won't you look at me?"

"I don't want you to be mad at me. I'm so sorry." Elizabeth wailed. "I didn't want to lose the children."

"God cookie, I know that." Steve said softly. "Cookie, please look at me."

Her red eyes burned his heart. He inhaled deeply and cupped her face, "You're scared of me."

She shook her head vehemently, squeezing her eyes shut.

Sam exchanged a look with Bucky, who just looked lost.

Slowly, Steve asked, "Did Ghaida's book tell you that I would be mad at you?"

Elizabeth hesitated and then nodded, "I-It- the book- it had a page about s-someone named Sharon C-Carter. And that the two of y-you were having a baby. And you were mad at h-her because she l-lost it. A-A-And I don't want you to be-be-be mad a-a-a-a-t me for l-losing J-J-James and S-s-s-Sams' kids." Her sobs were frantic so that she could barely get the last few words out.

Steve sweetly kissed her cheek slowly and said, "I will never be mad at you cookie. Sharon was different. . . she didn't lose my child, like the way you did. You didn't mean it. You didn't know you were pregnant or you would have protected them and stayed home. You didn't mean to die and lose them. Yours was an accident. But Sharon's was on purpose."

"She killed her child?" Elizabeth's eyes went round with fear, shrinking down a little.

"Not in the way you're probably thinking." Bucky said quickly. "The child wasn't born yet, she was still in Sharon's womb. But there's this thing now that's called abortion. And it's where a woman can go in and the doctor will. . . well I'll skip the gruesome parts, but ultimately it kills the baby inside."

Elizabeth's eyes startled the three of them as they went from brown to a flat lime green. She said softly, "Planned Parenthood was a clinic established in black communities by Margaret Singer in 1916 in New York as part of the Ku Klux Klan to try and stop the black population from growing. Abortion is considered healthcare and is pushed by Feminists to encourage women to climb the corporate ladder." She blinked, her eyes returning to brown.

"Sounds about right." Sam muttered darkly.

"Why do your eyes turn green?" Bucky asked in interest, hoping to turn conversation to a lighter topic. And also if Elizabeth was distracted, she wouldn't be upset anymore.

"Viden said that every human has an aurora around them that we can't see." Elizabeth said, Buckys' wishes coming true as she was almost smiling now. "And that aurora would be our scent if we could do magic. And my scent is lime, so my eyes turn the colour of limes. Ghaida's eyes turn gold because her scent is oranges."

"Interesting." Steve looked dumbstruck. "Although I don't understand the magic part."

"It's based on a book series called The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel. Or really, the author got the idea from Viden. He was. . . an auraling." Elizabeth said softly, eyes fluttering as she started to feel fatigued. All of the crying had clearly tuckered her out.

"Do you want to stay with us tonight?" Steve asked softly.

Elizabeth hesitated, hands clutching the front of Steve's shirt, "You're not. . . you're not-"

"I know this could be to soon." Steve whispered softly, cupping her cheek, "Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, maybe it's to soon, maybe I'll scare you away. . . but I'm not mad Elizabeth. I. . . I love you. And I know that you barely know me, I get that. But you're so sweet and I know your past self and I know you're beating yourself up over something you can't control, something that you can't blame yourself before. And I want to reassure you that I will never be mad at you, never hate you, because I love you."

Bucky's eyes were wide behind Elizabeth's back and Sam had frozen like a deer in headlights. Steve's heart immediately started pounding in his chest at their reactions. He felt that he had said the wrong thing now.

Slowly, Elizabeth whispered, "I liked hearing you say that. It made me. . . happy."

Steve relaxed, feeling like he'd just had a rush and now he had come down from it. He tilted her chin towards him. "Doll, may I kiss you?"

Elizabeth didn't answer, leaning forwards and kissing him first, her eyes closed. He kissed her gently, tasting lime on her lips and he nearly chuckled. He pulled away slowly, not wanting to overwhelm or push her.

"I- I think I love you too." Elizabeth whispered, though she looked uncertain. "But I- I'm not sure about my emotions. I don't always. . ."

"It's okay." Steve interrupted calmly. "You don't have to worry about that cookie. Just let me love you and if you ever feel the same, then you can let me know. But you don't have to push it. I don't ever want to make you unhappy."

Elizabeth slowly got off of him, looking at Bucky. "Can I- May I kiss. . . you?"

"Of course doll." Bucky smiled, gently cupping her cheek. Steve relaxed into the pillows as they both kissed. Bucky sucked on her bottom lip a little, before releasing her and she looked a little dazed as she pulled away.

Elizabeth turned to Sam, blushing now, "Sammy?"

"Yes sugar?"

"Is it okay if I. . . are you alright if I kiss you too?"

"More than alright sugar." Sam grinned, closing his eyes as he felt her soft lips against his. She kissed him a little longer than the other two, now that she was a little more confident, although she was still blushing like fire as she pulled away.

Then she climbed under the covers, clutching tightly to Steve and Sam's shirts with her hands, her leg resting against Bucky.

Steve and Sam cuddled her as Bucky got out of bed, turning off the light, and then laying down by her legs.

"Good night Sugar."

"Good night Sammy. Good night James. Good night Stevie." Elizabeth mumbled sleepily.

"Good night doll." Bucky and Steve replied together, and then the four of them fell asleep.

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Just Like a Folk Song (Our Love Will Be Passed On), 1/3 (Trixya) - Pinkgrapefruit

A/N -

hi! I’m really excited for this!!! I started it back in the summer of 2020 and it’s been a labour of love for sure. I was initially dead set on waiting for it to reach its end before I posted but I want someone who isn’t me and ortega to enjoy it. I’m so, so proud of it and I really hope you enjoy it so please let me know and maybe I’ll actually finish this one.

Thank you to Jaz, Ortega and Frey who have endlessly supported me, egged me on and corrected the minutia of my grammar. This one is for you xoxo

[chapter 1. pirate wives]

part one. joy

please picture me in the trees i hit my peak at seven feet in the swing over the creek i was too scared to jump in

There is a girl in the trees. She is blonde and messy, and her knees have scratches that Trixie’s mama would never allow. She clambers through the branches in her wellies, light as a feather until she’s straddling the edge of a thick branch, white teeth glistening in the mid-afternoon sun. Trixie is immediately jealous. She’s missing her two front teeth and although her mama straightens her dresses and tells her she’s very pretty - she’s not entirely convinced. The girl jumps down from the tree and hits the debris-littered floor with a soft thud. Her shoes are caked in mud and she runs a dirty hand through her hair in a way that makes Trixie’s skin crawl.

The day is warm, and Trixie’s mama had told her to spend it by the river near their flat. It’s overlooked by a wood, and the last man who pretended to be her daddy built a tire swing, so her and her brother could play down here when the sun makes it unbearable to be indoors.

The girl tilts her head and Trixie mirrors her, unsure. Her eyes are a crystalline green, the same colour as the lazy river, and she blushes as Trixie stares. The girl waves exuberantly.

“I’m Katya!” She introduces, pushing her hand forward for Trixie to shake. She sees her mama greet people like this, but it seems very strange. She cautiously moves her hand to meet it and they shake rather forcefully.

“Katya?” She repeats, almost a question, half-formed on her tongue.

“Yup! K-A-T-” she pauses, eyebrows scrunched as she tries to remember the next letter. The sun filters through the leaves, speckling her face with dots of light. “Y-A! Katya!”

Trixie giggles, cheeks flushing. She grips her pink corduroy dungaree dress, letting the soft fabric soothe her nerves. “My name is Beatrice,” she says, voice tight like a rope pulled taut. She is being polite. She is a good girl. Katya purses her lips, shuffling from one foot to another. “You can call me Trixie, though?”

Katya smiles, nods slightly. “I would like that, Trixie.”

She reaches out for Trixie to take her hand, and Trixie is slightly less hesitant this time. Katya’s smock blows in the slight breeze as she tugs Trixie forward, and the girl in the pink follows willingly.

but i, i was high in the sky with pennsylvania under me are there still beautiful things?

She ends up pulling her towards the tyre-swing and she holds Trixie’s cardigan as she wrestles up onto the tyre. Katya can only manage to push her for a few minutes before she wants her own turn, and Trixie makes her pull the swing as far back as she can, so there’s no chance she’ll end up in the river.

“How old are you?” Trixie asks as she holds the tyre patiently for Katya, who struggles in her wellies, despite being adept at climbing trees in them.

“I’m seven,” she announces proudly as she sits atop the tyre. She grips the rope tightly, so her fingers turn white and her brown smock is tucked under her thighs for grip. “My mama told me I look very old for my age.”

Trixie wouldn’t necessarily disagree. Katya looks bigger and certainly stronger than her. She is louder - more physical - and her hair is pretty. Trixie considers it all for a second.

“Okay,” she replies, pushing the swing gently, so its reflection ripples across the river. “I’m seven too.”

She pushes Katya gently for a few more minutes before Katya pipes up again. She’s more relaxed, fingers only barely hanging onto the rope.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Trixie?” The question makes Trixie squirm almost as much as the fact that Katya is now trying to hang upside-down above the river.

She gulps her anxiety down. “No,” she tells her, “I don’t really want one.”

Katya looks at her from upside down and smiles brightly. “boys are gross, Trixie,” she tells her sternly as if she’s had experience. She is steady in her convictions, and Trixie finds this admirable - she’s not sure if she has convictions.

Katya’s smock comes loose from under her thighs and Trixie looks away in shock as it exposes her almost naked body. Katya just giggles, her stomach expanding with laughter as she tries to grip with her legs and pull herself back up, so she is no longer exposed.

She twists her body slightly and manages to jump off the swing and onto the ground, watching as Trixie winces.

Katya puts her arms in the air. “I’m fine, look,” she tells her reassuringly. Curving her fingertips slightly she smiles. “RAWR!”

She chases Trixie through the horse fields until they end up on a street full of little stone cottages with flower boxes under the windows. Trixie stops when her mary janes hit the concrete and looks quizzically at Katya who’s stopped at a green door. She beckons for her to follow, and Trixie does.

sweet tea in the summer cross your heart, won’t tell no other and though i can’t recall your face i still got love for you

Katya’s sister Anna is sitting in the living room with a jug full of sweet tea and ice that makes Trixie drool just thinking about it. She smiles, offering them plastic cups full of the sugary liquid that Trixie happily gulps down after hours in the woods. She goes to slip her shoes off by the door, but Katya waves her hand. “Keep ‘em on.”

Trixie shrugs and follows the messy blonde up a flight of wooden stairs into a little red room. It has a bed pushed up to the wall and a set of gymnastic rings that come down from the ceiling. Katya places her cup down on the nearest flat surface as Trixie cradles hers in her hands, and launches herself at the rings.

Trixie is astounded that Katya can push herself off the ground, arms locked straight. She jumps down and grabs the shorts off the bed, pulling them on (somewhat awkwardly) over her wellies. Trixie watches in wonderment, fixed in place on the carpet, so she doesn’t spread dirt as Katya swings around, flipping and tumbling, aided by the rings.

When she finally stops, they sit crossed-legged on the floor, sipping sweet tea.

“Will you be my best friend?” Trixie asks Katya sweetly - her tongue coated in tea and her body energised from the most fun she’s ever had. She picks at the lace on the top of her socks while Katya considers her offer.

“I can do that,” she tells her, voice earnest and honest.

“Deal. I think best friends braid each other’s hair.”

“That sounds good.”

your braids like a pattern love you to the moon and to saturn passed down like folk songs the love lasts so long

“You can move now!” Katya announces after a painfully long time. Trixie gently pats the neat rows of hair on her head - it’s tender, and she scrunches her face up in response. She finds herself jealous - Katya is much better at braiding than she is, but she promised to teach her on the hand-me-down styling mannequin she got from her sister Anna.

“You’re better than me,” she effuses, hand splayed on the soft fabric of Katya’s smock.

“Yeah, well you have freckles,” Katya retorts, and Trixie nods because she makes a good point. “You can’t have everything, Beatrice.”

Trixie chews on her lips. She feels freer in Katya’s bedroom, there are no ghosts in the cupboards or angry ladies drying the washing in the sun. “Can you call me Trixie?” She asks. “I liked that better.”

Katya jumps up, pulling Trixie up with her. The sun makes her red walls glow, and they reflect onto her blonde hair.

“Okay, Trixie, do you wanna go on an adventure?”

Trixie nods and they barrel out of the bedroom and down the stairs, which creak pleasantly with every thundering step. Katya tugs her round the bend at the bottom of the stairs so fast that Trixie almost slams into the wall, but eventually they find Katya’s mama, Seraphine, in the kitchen making a salad.

“We’re going on an adventure!” Trixie exclaims, and Seraphine chuckles at them, ruffling Katya’s hair until the blonde scowls.

“Okay girls, stay safe,” she tells them, and they nod earnestly. “Are you staying for dinner?” She asks Trixie, and Trixie shakes her head sadly.

“My mama told me to be home for six.”

Seraphine smiles warmly and moves, so they can exit through the back door. Katya’s house backs onto a horse field and it makes Trixie feel like a butterfly - all warm and free in the sun and she never really wants to go home.

Katya sticks her arms out like she could fly if only she had the lift, and they run around playing aeroplanes for a little while. Trixie’s scuffed mary janes let her socks get wet from the dew in the grass and it makes her feel like she is a part of nature.

Katya takes off her wellies and the ground squishes under her toes.

and i’ve been meaning to tell you i think your house is haunted your dad is always mad and that must be why

Katya walks Trixie home to the grey flats on the edge of the town. They tower high above the little cottages - a relic of a revolution long gone - and cast hazy shadows in the late afternoon sun. In the shadows, Katya’s hair looks dull and Trixie’s dress looks clean, and it makes the hairs on Trixie’s legs stand up as a breeze whistles under her skirt.

“You live here?” Katya asks and she doesn’t mean it to sound mean, but the words still crackle in Trixie’s ears like dying embers. She bristles, standing up tall and proud like she’s always been taught to.

“Yes, I do,” she tells Katya almost haughtily - trying to channel her mama. Her hands firm around the squish of her hips and she purses her lips.

Katya frowns. “I’m sorry,” she voices, chewing the inside of her cheek, fingers clinging together behind her. “It looks like ghosts live here.”

This makes Trixie laugh, it’s soft and ladylike because she’s a lady, which in turn makes Katya laugh - loud and raucous.

“Good-bye, Kat-y-a,” says Trixie, her mouth rounding over the syllables. “Katya.”

“Good-bye, my best friend Trixie,” replies Katya with a wave and a nod before she skips back up the path towards the streetlamps. She steps inside the building and heads up the stairs, knocking three times on the door.

“Why are your shoes scuffed, Beatrice?” Is her first greeting and she turns her toes in an attempt to hide them from her mama.

“The forest, Mama,” Trixie responds, calm and quiet. Her brother is watching from the couch and he sticks his tongue out at her with a kind smile. “I met a girl named Katya.”

Her mama scowls, face tight and eyes sharp. “You let a girl named Katya touch your hair?” She asks, almost mocking as she picks up a braid and lets it fall back onto Trixie’s back. She sighs. “Go get ready for dinner and wash your hands.”

“Yes, Mama,” Trixie tells her dutifully before running off to her bedroom. She places the bobbles Katya used in her hair in her jewellery box.

and i think you should come live with me and we can be pirates then you won’t have to cry or hide in the closet

They play pirates, skipping rocks on the river like cannonballs. Katya is Blackbeard with her macaroni necklace and her stolen clip-on earrings. She smiles sweetly and tells Trixie that she is Grace O'Malley, because she is pretty and male pirates were not pretty. Also because then they could have the best pirate wedding anyone has ever seen and this makes Trixie laugh so hard she accidentally throws her best skipping stone. Katya decides that she’s won, but she will share her treasure and they lay on the grass on the bank of the river.

Seraphine has been reading Katya a book on pirates, so the young girl parrots the information back to Trixie, who revels in the knowledge. She begs her brother Josh to read her that pirates books she’s borrowed from the library and the next day she comes back to the river and tells Katya that they are both women pirates.

“I am Grace O'Malley and you are Mary Reed,” she announces authoritatively. Katya frowns, head tilted so her blonde hair glows white in the sun.

“Can we still have the best pirate wedding though?” She asks, and Trixie squeezes her hand before jumping up.

“Of course!” She tells her like it is obvious. “We will just be pirate wives.”

Katya nods, because this makes perfect sense. “We will be pirate wives,” she consolidates. She pulls a stick out of the belt of her smock and holds it aloft. “TO BATTLE, PIRATE WIFE!” She screams so the horses in the next field are adequately prepared before running down the grassy bank, so her wellies get wet on the rocky shore of the river.

“To battle!” Trixie squeals, running after her with enthusiasm. She stops when the stones start because she doesn’t want to get her socks wet this time, but she watches as Katya jumps in the water.

'Best friend pirate wife,’ she turns over in her head. It sounds good.

and just like a folk song our love will be passed on

part two. discomfort

i want you to know i’m a mirrorball i’ll show you every version of yourself tonight

There’s only one middle school in the village. Its bricks are a rust-brown and rough like they’ve just been dug out of the ground. It used to be a factory town, so everything is covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust anyway, but this building manages to look particularly rugged. Trixie assumes the planters were at one point neat and trimmed, although they don’t seem to be anymore - wiry stems making their way up the walls. It’s not unwelcoming, Trixie just doesn’t really want to be there.

She pushes that down though, pulling her white long-socks back up past her knees and adjusting the way her backpack falls on her shoulders. She spots Katya loitering under the carefully positioned 'no loitering’ sign and smiles - picking up her pace so her mary-janes slip a little on the gravel-covered yard. Katya’s wrists are covered in the friendship bracelets they spent the summer weaving with Seraphine’s embroidery threads. She wears Trixie’s too - her mama threw the first one out with her brother’s holey socks.

They share a homeroom, and Katya makes sure they get two seats next to each other, the plastic chairs sweating in the late August heat. Trixie’s thighs stick to them against her will and she finds herself gently prying her thighs away from the seat every so often as Katya laughs in her loose jeans.

Katya has always been the one who preferred practical fashion. Her brown smocks have turned into tank tops and jeans, and she’s only eleven, but Trixie thinks she dresses a bit like the boys from Grease. They’re older. Maybe, by then, Trixie will look like a Pink Lady. That’s what she wants, anyway.

They write notes on each other’s pencil cases while Mr Thompson gives them a rather hasty personal health lesson. Trixie worries at one point that she’s missing important information about periods or nail varnish, but Katya tells her that Anna can just explain it all to them, so they go back to doodling hearts in the margins of their brand new notepads.

At one point, Trixie chances a look around the room, the walls are sparse and the paint peels, but there’s one poster that makes her tummy feel weird and she almost points it out to Katya, but the other girl is too busy making a paper plane.

The poster tells her homosexuality is a sin.

She wonders if pirate wives are exempt.

i’ll get you out on the floor shimmering beautiful and when i break it’s in a million pieces hush

In Biology, Katya is seated next to a boy named Maxwell. He’s Jewish and sweet enough, and they talk about his babushka’s chak-chak. Katya remembers the sweet, doughy treat from her times visiting her baba back in Russia, and she almost asks why his name doesn’t sound like hers, because he sounds awfully American even though he can pronounce her last name.

Most of the teachers can’t. It’s the third day and they’ve already resorted to Zamo. She’s too used to it to be hurt.

Mrs Dodds comes in through the teacher’s door and drops a textbook on the desk to get everyone’s attention. She’s a mousy sort of woman - light hair cut to a bob that stops at the nape of her neck. Her blazer is tweed and also oversized, and it reminds Katya of the jacket her dad wears to job interviews.

Dodds starts scratching her name onto the board in white chalk and the sound sends shivers down the class’s spines.

“Can anyone explain to me where humans came from?” She asks the room, and the eleven-year-olds cower from the cadence of her voice.

A brave girl called Monique waves her hand, but Dodd’s picks on a boy called Jaremi instead and he quivers under her gaze. “Sex?” He suggests, tone light like he’s walking on eggshells and all of the preteens burst into giggles. The poor boy turns the same shade as summer poppies, and Katya feels terrible. Unfortunately, her face must betray this because a crooked finger is pointed in her direction. She shifts awkwardly.

“Evolution,” she musters with enough confidence that it doesn’t sound like a question, and while the class looks vaguely impressed with her, Mrs Dodds does not. She scoffs.

“A fallacy,” she claims, stalking back to the chalkboard with her sleeves crumpled by her elbows.

The chalk scraped on the board, spelling out a word: God. Katya gulps. She’s pretty sure god didn’t make humans. They came from fish - at least that’s what her encyclopedia told her.

“God created humans,” she announces to them all, smiling faintly, “and it’s people like you, sinner,” she points at Katya again, “who make him regret it.”

when no one is around, my dear you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes spinning in my highest heels, love shining just for you Hush

They square dance in gym class and even though there aren’t enough boys, the girls aren’t allowed to dance with each other, so Trixie ends up sat on the bench while Katya and Max twirl in circles - blatantly flaunting the teacher’s instruction. Her long black skirt is patterned with white skulls and flares prettily around her ankles, exposing her red Doc Martens.

Katya leads, stepping backwards while Max steps on her toes - his shorter stature making for quite the picture (one that makes Trixie snort into her elbow).

She is not jealous. Jealousy is too strong, what she feels is subtle - like pulling on her ribs, shifting them under her skin until her heart hurts. Her heart does hurt. Maybe she’s not used to Katya having other people, so what - they said they would stick together and they will. She is confident.

When the dance ends, Katya bows - waving her arm so it circles under her and allowing her messy hair to fall over her face before flicking it back dramatically. She smiles at Trixie, and Trixie smiles back for the split second before she is assigned to the tall, lanky boy at the back of the gym. His hands are clammy and damp and strangely cold, and Trixie tries to hold them as lightly as she can, confident that Katya’s would be softer, warmer.

The boy smells strange, his hair falls over his eyes, and he stutters when he talks to her, making a poor effort of leading her and standing on her feet more than she stands on his. The teacher doesn’t seem to care, too busy screaming at the blonde girl who refuses to dance with the boy who has eczema.

They dance in circles rather than squares and Trixie’s mind is running in triangles rather than circles.

i know they said the end is near but i’m still on my tallest tiptoes spinning in my highest heels, love shining just for you

Trixie finds herself giggling with the girls Katya called plastic in her English lesson. She doesn’t share it with Katya and she didn’t want to sit alone, so she positioned herself at the back with Gigi, Pearl, and Courtney, who don’t seem to have an appreciation for Keats, but then again neither does Trixie, unless Katya is reading it to her in the hammock behind the cottage.

Gigi is dating a hippie boy from the next town over. She refers to him as Crystal, and the other girls go along with it, so Trixie doesn’t ask. Pearl wants to smoke weed with the high school boys that hang around the skate park, but she’s promised her brother that she won’t until she’s fourteen. Courtney is from Australia. They seem interesting.

Trixie doesn’t understand why they’re plastic.

But Katya drags her by the arm out of school one day ranting about how they’d called her names like 'dyke’ for not having a boyfriend.

“Boys are dumb,” she’d told them proudly, “I don’t want one.”

“Boys are dumb,” Trixie agrees solemnly, sat on a wall near her flat as Katya paces. She kicks a stone into the road and watches it skitter to a halt before sitting next to Trixie with a huff. “Sometimes girls are dumb too,” Trixie reminds gently, and Katya puts her head on her shoulder.

“You’re not dumb,” Katya tells her, “I don’t understand why they have to be.” She sounds so dejected that Trixie wants to bundle her up in blankets and make hot cocoa until she’s smiling again.

“Welcome to the real world. It sucks. You’re going to love it,” Trixie quips, and it does make Katya chuckle at her best friend’s antics.

“You did not just quote friends at me,” she jokes, pressing a finger into the softness of Trixie’s side. Trixie jumps off the wall in shock as Katya cackles to herself and sticks her tongue out.

“I hate you,” she tells her, smiling widely.

“I hate you too.”

i want you to know i’m a mirrorball i can change everything about me to fit in

They walk the final stretch to Trixie’s flat, hands swinging between them. Katya’s hand is clammy, but it is warm, and it grounds Trixie’s thoughts from where they are spinning. She knows people can be horrid, her brother once told her that 50% of the town is assholes and 50% is assholes you can deal with, but knowing and realising are two different things, and maybe she just hadn’t realised.

She doesn’t mean to be, but she’s more careful from then on. She giggles with boys and she doesn’t really hold Katya’s hand outside of the woods and the fields, where they are free to be whatever they want. And maybe she wants to hold Katya’s hand. Maybe.

There is a boy called Ben who hangs around the library. He seems sweet and small and kind, and she sits at his table while she tries to work out algebra. He plays baseball, but he mostly paints and makes jokes, so everyone seems to like him and Trixie admires that.

She appreciates the non-judgemental silence as she struggles over Pythagoras one evening. Katya is at art club, and Trixie doesn’t feel like having to do the work in the flat where the heating is broken, so she bundles herself up in the library and watches Ben eat a chocolate muffin over the top of his book. He smiles warmly at her and offers a chunk, which she takes gladly - savouring the way it seems to melt in her mouth.

"That’s good,” she mutters appreciatively, mouth full and all too aware of the watchful eye of the librarian.

“I made them!” Ben responds, his cheeks flushing with excitement.

“And they’re not going to poison me?” Trixie asks as he offers her a full one from a Tupperware in his bag. He sticks his tongue out, shaking his head, before ducking down as the librarian looks their way.

you are not like the regulars the masquerade revellers drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

“I think Ben has a crush on me,” Trixie postures, approaching it slowly like one approaches a kitten stuck on a road. Katya, in many ways, is comparable to a scared kitten - whether it be her anxious quiver or the mess of her hair - soft, but tangled in a knot on her head.

Katya’s eyebrow quirks, though her mouth stays set. “I thought we said boys are dumb?” She tells Trixie firmly, feet planted in the damp October soil.

Trixie shifts her toes on the crunching leaves and the noise ripples through the forest.

“They are,” she agrees, quietly, “I don’t want one.” She feels like she’s having to defend herself and she doesn’t really know why. Her cheeks prickle red with heat.

Katya scowls, and Trixie’s quivers on instinct before pulling her shoulder back and standing up straight. The clouds rolling overhead seem greyer, but maybe that’s just a trick of the light.

“You can’t control who I’m friends with, Kat,” she advocates, the telltale signs of anger slipping into her tone as the pitch heightens with every word. She pulls the sleeves of her jumper over her palms so she can feel a little sense of security, and Katya’s face softens.

“I know,” Katya sighs. She falls down onto a log, brushing some of the bark off the edges. She shifts as it scrapes her legs through her trousers, but eventually settles, looking mournful. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Trixie holds her hands in her own, feeling the clammy warmth.

“I promise you won’t.”

hush

part three. comfort

when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Trixie is fourteen, holding hands with Ben as they eat ice creams from the parlour down the street. Ben dots some of his onto her nose, and she flushes pink and flustered as he wipes it off with the pad of his thumb. He’s grown taller, face chiselling ever so slightly, although his cheeks remain doughy and soft. She has to refrain from imprinting her fingertips into the pale flesh just to watch it bounce back. She’s grown into herself, breasts growing until her mama had to take her to the department store, an hour away, to buy training bras in sizes larger than the local shops have in stock.

She blushes and goes back to her ice cream, the strawberry sauce dripping into her knuckles so she has to run her tongue along them, leaving only the faint hint of pink food-colouring trailing across her hand.

He presses his lips to her cheek, tongue skimming the tip of her soft serve on the way, and grins like a Cheshire cat. She relents, placing her lips on his for a peck, and his lips taste like chocolate sauce. It’s sweet.

It took her a few years to finally accept his constant asking her out, but they spent ninth grade canoodling in the library, hand swinging between them and lips pressed to each other’s cheeks. It’s nice.

The girls she changes with for gym class tell her she must be in love, but she’s always thought that love would feel more like fireworks rather than popping candy. It’s pleasant. She doesn’t know if she should want more.

but i knew you dancin’ in your levi’s drunk under a streetlight, i

Ben wanted more. He dumps her for Kelly Mantle, a drama student famed for giving Brian McCook a blowjob behind the smoker shelter.

She cries into Katya’s paint-splattered denim jacket, the blonde’s fingers worming their way around the fullness of her hips until Katya’s holding her.

Trixie sobs in hiccups, and Katya’s sorrow rolls in waves. She’s held the girl so many times in their friendship, but they swore it would never be over a boy. And now Trixie is clinging to her like a liferaft in the ocean and Katya cannot help but pull her ashore.

Katya guides her over to the blanket she’d thrown on the warm grass, and they collapse onto its cushioning. Katya holds her until all her sobs muffle into croaks, and then there is silence.

They eventually roll onto their backs, Katya’s arm resting under the nape of Trixie’s neck, and although she’s losing feeling in her fingers - she wouldn’t move it for the world. The sun is warm, bright and even across their exposed stomachs in crop tops that Anna gave them when her chest grew too large. Katya’s hangs limply, but Trixie’s is stretching to her body and moves gently with each breath. Katya could watch the hypnotic movements until the sunset.

The river at the bottom of the verge babbles softly. There’s a heron in it, tall and proud and searching eagerly for fish. Its beak hooks into the water and it pulls out a flapping anchovy - or so Katya tells her, fingertips painting the words into the skyline.

Sometimes Trixie feels like the heron, but most days, she supposes, she is the anchovy. She is only fourteen, but life is harder than she thought it would be. Heartbreak hurts more. Making daisy chains with a lifelong friend soothes the pain a little.

i knew you hand under my sweatshirt baby, kiss it better, i

The rips in Katya’s Levi’s let the grass brush her calves. She longs to pull Trixie up, drag her around on the grass till they’re dancing, but the sun is starting to burn orange on the horizon line and Trixie’s mam has never been one for letting her off curfew.

She tugs the blonde up, sleepy and satiated - brushes a thumb along the redness of her under-eyes. Trixie adorns her with a flower crown and in the headiness of the sunset, Katya blushes.

The sky goes from naphthol red to quinacridone. Trixie swings their hands together as they take the long road home. Their path is shaded by the trees, and a breeze causes goosebumps to appear all up her arms, so she tugs her sweatshirt on, and Katya carefully pulls her hair out of the back for her. She whispers something, but it is lost to the whistling of the leaves.

Sometimes Katya wishes they could go back to playing pirates. They could be pirate wives and gallivant about the woods, waving their sticks up high and pretending that they could always go home to each other. It would be easier, she muses, easier than enduring school with girls who call her a dyke and a lesbo and tell her not to look at them in gym class, when, really, she gets ready facing the corner. Pirate wives would be fanciful, but lovely nonetheless.

The softness of their footsteps stops as they reach the path to Trixie’s. It’s gravely and it crunches underfoot, but the streetlights cast shadows that make Katya yearn to dance with Trixie once more.

She gives in this time, pulling the younger girl into her arms so they can mock-waltz, imagining the streetlamps as spotlights and maybe their friendship as something more.

Katya’s hand slips onto the fullness of Trixie’s hip again, her skin hot under her cold palm.

“You’re my favourite,” Katya whispers, lips brushing the flyaways from Trixie’s ponytail. She cannot see the blonde blush, but she squirms a little in Katya’s arms and it makes her smirk.

“And you’re mine.”

and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone’s bed you put me on and said i was your favorite

They kiss under that streetlight.

It may be the first, but it’s the sweetest and the quickest and the kindest too - lips brushing like a promise. Trixie can’t say what she’s promising, but she’s pretty sure she’d promise her life away just to taste cola off Katya’s tongue again.

a friend to all is a friend to none chase two girls, lose the one when you are young, they assume you know nothing

part four. deception

make sure nobody sees you leave hood over your head, keep your eyes down tell your friends you're out for a run you’ll be flushed when you return

Katya pads quietly along the line - her socks not quite keeping out the 3am chill. She’ll have to wait until she’s out of the door to put her worn converse back on - the squeak of the soles bound to wake the whole flat up. She resists the urge to skid - knowing she’ll hit the front door with a thud that Trixie will struggle to pretend is the wind. It’s a calm night.

She’s left Trixie in bed - the duvet twisted around her recumbent form like a snake. She wishes, for a second, to turn around and snuggle back into the warmth of Trixie’s side. To sling a leg back over the plush of her thigh and rest her head on Trixie’s chest.

Cuddling, she decides, is god’s divine creation. And so is Trixie.

She manages to avoid the creaking floor panel in front of Mama Mattel’s bedroom door, hugging the wall opposite just to make it out unscathed.

She locks the door with the key Trixie gifted to her over summer - pressed at a locksmith two towns over. Mr Lackerty in the village centre would have asked too many questions. Trixie paid for it with her allowance, stealing change from her Mama to take the bus there and back. She’d gifted it to her in a little shoebox stuffed with pulled-apart tissue. Katya has cried.

Slipping on her shoes in the hall outside, she sighs in both relief and sadness. She leaves quickly.

take the road less travelled by tell yourself you can always stop what started in beautiful rooms ends with meetings in parking lots

Trixie shifts on the wooden desks - hoping her skirt won’t be covered in chalk and graphite when she gets up. She’s watching Katya, dark eyes trained on crystalline green, and Katya smiles up at her before focusing back on her canvas. Her tongue pokes out when she does something she deems good, her eyebrows scrunching in concentration.

The art room is empty except for the two of them and by the silence of the corridor outside, lunch isn’t over just yet. They’re safe.

It’s like their own little sanctuary, Katya with her paints and Trixie with her Katya. She gently brushes the girl’s fringe back whenever it looks in danger of getting messy - there’s already a streak of pink across the bridge of her nose, but Trixie doubts she’s noticed.

She starts humming to herself, an old song that she’s heard through the walls of the flat, and Katya looks up at her.

“You should sing more Trix,” she tells her, ever so earnest.

“You think?” Trixie tucks her hair behind her ears, eyes twinkling at the compliment.

“I do,” she muses, turning back to the painting so she can put a final stroke in place before she tugs on the edge of Trixie’s skirt.

Trixie brushes a hand at her, hoping there won’t be painted fingerprints on the corduroy before coming to stand behind Katya. She wraps her hands around her waist and balances her chin on Katya’s shoulder before finally allowing her eyes to fall on the canvas.

It’s the river. Their river.

And they’re on the banks.

Together.

and that’s the thing about illicit affairs and clandestine meetings and longing stares

Trixie turns sixteen in February. Her birthday is celebrated by the world even if they don’t realise it, pink hearts adorning every establishment in town. She spends the day with Courtney, as Pearl is smoking weed with her boyfriend from city college. He’s a forty-minute bus ride away on a good day, but Pearl says the sex is good, and Trixie just blushes softly because she shouldn’t know what Pearl is talking about, but she does.

She’s okay with it, though, spending the day without Pearl. She and Courtney get smoothies from the 'healthy’ diner that Courtney’s been going on about and talk about boys, and Trixie makes up most of her opinions, but that’s okay.

She decides that she’ll be attracted to Mathew because he’s tall and he’s got the same cheekbones, as Katya so she can just talk about that. Courtney’s raving about this guy called Danny that she wants to be friends with (make out with), apparently he’s in a band and he sings, and that makes Courtney positively ravenous for him.

They part ways after Courtney gives her the charm bracelet she and Pearl bought. It’s silver and has a little heart charm on it, but Courtney tells her not to worry, they can buy more.

It jingles, but it’s not as comfortable as the woven friendship bracelets she and Katya made when they were eleven.

Katya meets her by the river and they walk through the woods hand in hand till they reach the clearing where she’s laid out a picnic blanket.

They lay on it together, looking up at the sky and holding hands through their gloves.

“We met here,” Katya ponders, as she allows herself to get lost in the smell of cherries on Trixie’s breath.

“Huh,” Trixie replies, placing a gentle kiss on Katya’s nose, “I guess we did.” A blush spreads across her cheekbones and she feels the heat in her chest as she remembers the past few years.

“You’re my favourite,” Katya tells her, a whisper in the wind.

“And you’re mine.”

it’s born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times

They go through a rough patch. They’re only seventeen, it’s their god-given right to, and they’re hiding a secret that’s burning them both, slowly, but surely.

Katya spends more time with Danny and his band, and Trixie spends more time with Courtney and Pearl and Gigi and her boyfriend, who transferred at the end of last year. He’s got a mullet, and it’s confusing, but apparently it’s in fashion, so Trixie doesn’t try to argue.

They drift apart a little bit. It’s the kind of drifting where Trixie stares at Katya across the corridor - watches a boy with eyeliner compliment her rings in front of their lockers. Katya stares at Trixie too - watches her when Courtney and Pearl aren’t around to call her a dyke, and maybe she’s still hurt that Trixie chooses to be their friend.

She wonders what would happen if they knew where Trixie’s proclivities lie.

She slips a note into her locker, telling Trixie to meet her in the art room, 6th period on Thursday. It’s bound to be empty, the rest of the school busy with summer term exams and home study. She tells herself that she’ll wait till then. She can wait.

Trixie looks nervous when they meet, she’s pulling at one of her nails - the glossy pink peeling off.

“You wanted to see me?” She asks, voice low and cautious, and it breaks a little part of Katya that she doesn’t even realise is shattering.

“I’ve missed you,” Katya responds, honest and raw. She’s twisting her fingers together too, subconsciously mirroring Trixie, or whatever Danny was trying to tell her about psychology. Trixie nods slowly.

“I’ve missed you too,” she agrees, gulping air like she’s drowning. The tension is sucking all the air out of the room, but she’s only just noticed it’s ugly form. She manages a smile, and it’s softer than she thought she could muster.

“I love you, you know?”

Katya frowns, and it makes Trixie back into the table she’s been stood in front of.

“I don’t think you do,” Katya says, and suddenly the silence feels like it’s been shattered.

“Wh-” Trixie stutters, feeling like the air has been sucker-punched out of her lungs leaving her winded.

“I don’t think you do,” Katya repeats plainly, her eyes suddenly emptier than Trixie’s ever seen them. She’s gripping the table behind her so hard that her knuckles have gone white - gathering all her resolve because she’s sure she’ll crumble if she lets go for a second.

“Who are you to tell me what I feel?”

“You don’t.”

“Just because you’ve decided you can’t accept it.” Trixie’s indignant now, she wants to scream and shout and yell, but most of all - she just wants to understand.

“You don’t love me,” Katya says again. “You say you do, but you can’t. This hasn’t meant anything to me.” It’s a lie. She watches Trixie crumble and then pick herself back up again all in the space of a few seconds.

“You know what, you can go fuck yourself.” She throws it out there and watches it detonate - the harshest words she’s ever said to Katya.

She turns to leave, inhaling deeply to try and keep the tears in her eyes instead of streaming down her face where they want to be.

“Dyke,” she mutters as the door slams.

She leaves, and Katya finally falls apart.

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else

#rpdr fanfiction #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #bendelacreme #dela x trixie #miz cracker #coming of age #childhood best friends #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #i swear there is a happy ending #folklore #just like a folk song #pinkgrapefruit #concrit welcome #tw use of dyke

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ahgaseda · 5 years

Text

two can keep a secret || chapter 02

⇥ synopsis : when your father reveals his intention to remarry, you find an unlikely confidant in Mark, your soon-to-be stepbrother, but what began as a revenge fling ironically becomes far more complicated...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Smoke filled the room. Mark’s bedroom, of course. There was no way in hell you would let him smoke that shit in your room.

Leaning back against the headboard, you scrolled through his phone with disinterest. Mark was on his belly positioned comfortably between your legs. He occasionally rested his head on your lower stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. Which was all you were wearing aside from his undershirt, soaked in his scent of sweat and faded cologne.

Mark puffed on the joint again before discarding what was left. The trip from your bed to his bed had resulted in yet another round of sex, this time with you on your hands and knees. As long as he made you come, you didn’t really give a shit about the position.

Wrenching your fists in the dark material of his comforter, your mouth hung open in a silent cry of mercy as his hips smacked into your ass with every violent thrust. Mark grunted with the effort, his grip on your waist hard and punishing. You could feel the bruises forming, like bold handprint-shaped reminders of your sins.

After a fast, deep thrust that kissed your cervix, you let out a strangled moan and snapped, “Hngh, fuck you, Mark!”

For fucking me too damn good, was what you wanted to say, but you didn’t dare inflate his pride even further. No boy had indulged your desires for rough sex, though if they had, you had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn’t have done it as well as Mark did. Again, that was also something you wouldn’t dare admit to him. His ego was big enough as it was.

Mark chuckled darkly at your words and the sound only tightened the coil in the pit of your stomach. Setting his hand to the back of your neck, Mark pushed you face down into the mattress and held you there, pounding the living shit out of you as his bed squeaked and threatened to give out.

By the time you and your future stepbrother had finished the romp, you spent a good five minutes splayed limply on his sheets. The two of you panted for breath in perfect sync, chests heaving up and down. As energy had slowly returned, you donned his shirt and made yourself comfortable, far too exhausted to make the short trek back to your own bedroom.

“Jackson is having a party on Friday if you wanna go,” you told him, after reading the invite on his phone.

Mark scoffed. “Why? We can get drunk and high and fuck right here.”

“Very funny,” you deadpanned, pursing your lips.

On some level Mark was fully aware of his destructive behaviors, but his anger overruled them. You had given up talking him out of getting high or wasted on the regular fairly quickly. He was stubborn and set in his ways and you knew it was downright hypocritical of you to chide him.

“Are you going or not?” you asked impatiently.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Mark said with a noncommittal shrug. “Free booze.”

You rolled your eyes.

Mark turned his head, eyes flickering with desire. His hands were suddenly on your hips, smoothing up your body underneath his shirt you wore. Once his broad hands landed on your bare breasts and proceeded to squeeze, you lowered the phone and gave him a look.

“No more, Mark.”

He pouted. “Why not?”

You reminded, “They’ll be home any minute and I’m really sore.”

“Tapping out so soon?” he teased, kissing hotly beneath your navel.

“Yes,” you replied bluntly.

Mark let his head fall on your tummy in defeat. “Fine.”

You reached down and raked your nails through his disheveled hair, teasing under your breath, “Such a horny motherfucker.”

Mark lifted his eyes, settling them on your face, and retorted, “That’s what you like about me.”

You pulled his hair. “No, I like your big dick and your big ass hands.”

Mark chuckled and tickled his fingers over your waist. “Yeah, and I like your tight pussy and your pretty titties.”

You laughed. “On that note, I should probably go back to my room.”

Mark tilted his head and teased, “Should I carry you, Miss I’m So Sore?”

You glared. “Don’t make me kick you.”

Before you could protest, Mark hopped up and swept you into his arms. You squeaked in surprise, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself, and chastised him jokingly as he brought you back to your bed.

Mark plopped you down and gave your ass a swat, saying, “Let’s go get food in a bit. I’m fucking starving.”

You gave him a thumbs up, knowing that was a side-effect of his high. “Deal.”

Mark leaned in to steal a kiss, a gesture you happily returned. When he took another and another, you began to smile against his mouth, giggling at his insatiable hunger for you and your body. His kisses became wet and mischievous, and you could feel yourself getting riled up again.

Without a word, you grabbed his shoulders with both hands and pulled him on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles.

Mark broke away long enough to peer into your eyes, cocking an eyebrow. “What happened to please don’t tear it up again?”

Irritated that his mouth was no longer on yours, you growled, “Just keep kissing me, asshole.”

With pleasure, Mark would have said, except you were already tugging at his hair to bring him in for more.

Suddenly, there came a noise downstairs, followed by your father’s voice echoing through the house, “We’re home!”

You shoved Mark away faster than you thought possible and your future stepbrother didn’t hesitate to race out of your room, flinging himself to his own bed before he could get caught between your legs.

Your heart raced for an entirely different reason as you heard your father’s approaching footsteps. Quickly pulling your blanket over yourself, you donned a smile just in time for him to appear in your doorway.

At the sight of you still in bed, your father shook his head and asked, “Are you planning to sleep the day away?”

You replied sweetly, “I’ve been awake, Daddy.”

“Ah, okay. Any sign of life from Mark?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mark, coming to stand beside your father, pulling on his jacket.

“Good morning,” your father quipped, reaching out to shake Mark’s hand.

You wanted to chuckle. They were still unbelievably awkward with each other.

“Morning,” Mark replied, then he turned to you. “Food, remember? Let’s go.”

“Let me get dressed,” you said, shooing them away with a wave of your hand.

Your Dad quipped, “Glad to see the two of you willing to leave the house.”

You almost blushed, but fortunately, your father swiftly left to answer the distant beckoning of your soon-to-be stepmother.

Mark leaned against the frame of your door, arms folded as hair fell in his face. He was watching you with that devilish gaze of his before licking his lips and whispering, “I like the way you say Daddy.”

You grimaced. “I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.”

“Do I need to help you get dressed or can you manage it?”

“They are right downstairs,” you murmured, scathing in reproach.

Mark snorted and hissed, “As much as they fuck, they shouldn’t have anything to say about us.”

The vitriol in his voice was overwhelming and you felt adrenaline creep up your spine at how closely he danced to the line. You stopped, eyes soft in pleading. “Mark, you promised.”

Mark melted in an instant. You knew where his weak points were. “I’m only teasing,” he quickly defended. “I just like making your heart race."

With a shake of your head, you finally slipped out of bed and moved toward the dresser. “You’re the worst.”

Mark raked his tongue over his teeth and murmured, “That’s not what you said this morning or last night.”

Pulling on your jeans, you threatened, “Should I tell all of your friends the way I made you sing for me?”

Mark rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip and smiled. “There she is. Come on, the least I can do is feed you after wearing you out.”

“As much as I wore you out, maybe I should be the one treating.”

“Over my dead body,” he huffed, roaming his hand down your back and lingering over the little span of bare skin above your jeans. “Let’s go, woman. This century, please.”

“I’m coming,” you said impatiently, grabbing your purse. “Let me guess - burgers?”

Mark nodded. “Obviously.”

“In-N-Out?”

“The irony. We know all about that, don’t we?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

Mark brought his lips to your ear and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he whispered in the lowest timbre, “In and out. In and out. In and…”

The memory of his cock stretching you open appeared in your mind. You smacked his chest and earned a childish laugh, but the soreness between your thighs was suddenly begging for his attention. “Only you could make that dirty, Mark Tuan.”

He grinned and smarted, “It’s a gift.”

“Or a curse,” you retorted over your shoulder, heading for the door with him in tow.

chapter 01 ⇤ chapter 02 ⇥ chapter 03

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#got7 fanfiction #got7 smut #mark smut #mark tuan smut #got7 imagines #got7 au #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan scenarios #mark tuan fanfiction #got7 scenarios #mark tuan au

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