#sotya

[shrugsinchinese]

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Goncharov

[wistfulwatcher]

Goncharov (1973), dir. Matteo JWHJ0715

[lykoiii]

Here she comes You better watch your step She's going to break your heart in two It's true

[sabeedraws]

I just love that scene where Katya and Goncharov are dancing when Sofia and Katya lock eyes across the dancefloor! (+ Taylor Swift lyrics for no reason) 

[dubiouslymelly]

they are literally in love, your honor

[bestsapphicship]

Korrasami (the legend of korra) vs Sotya (goncharov)

Korrasami

Sotya

Voting ended onFeb 15, 2023

[phantomthiefjeanne]

"Of course. Like clockwork. I knew you'd be out here, waiting for me with the lighter he didn't have." Katya X Sofia I Goncharov, 1973 (Directed by Matteo JWHJ0715, Presented by Martin Scorsese)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Cigarettes and Perfume.

Pairing: Katya x Sofia [Goncharov (1973)].

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships and Implied Cheating.

Katya Goncharov was an exceptionally difficult woman to be with.

Sofia knew that best. Although their relationship was a fickle thing, sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter, as cold as ice on some days and as warm as a lover’s embrace on others, they always seemed to find themselves at each other’s sides, and Sofia was always with Katya – to whatever definition ‘with’ was supposed to suit at that time. Tonight, Sofia took it to mean lying in Katya’s bed, staring at the high ceiling of her bedroom as sleep failed to overtake her. Yet again, her paranoia soon won over her exhaustion, and with no small amount of disinclination, she rose, allowing the silken sheets to fall from her lithe form. Rest would elude her, as it so often managed to. That, she couldn’t blame entirely on her dear friend, even if she was tempted to try.

Katya, evidently, didn't share her aspirations. Sofia found her on the bedroom's balcony, laid across a loveseat that overlooked the lights of the city. She’d shrugged on a pale robe; the kind Sofia had only ever seen in shop windows and the closets of women with disgustingly rich husbands before coming to Naples. The latter, Sofia supposed Katya was, but Sofia had never been able to think of her as anyone’s wife, as someone who could be so bound to another. Yet another factor that complicated their relationship. Was it possible to attach herself to someone who could hold no attachments? Could she ever love Katya when Katya seemed determined to love no one aside from herself?

She was tempted to ask, but bit her tongue as she came to stand beside Katya. With idle, careless movements, Sofia perched herself on the edge of her loveseat, allowing her lips to brush against Katya’s cheek, the corner of her jar before pulling away, breathing in the scent of stale smoke and salt water. “You left me,” She muttered, because she knew Katya would drink in the attention, the wanting. “I thought you promised to stay by my side, this time.”

“My apologies, dear.” Her tone was light, flat, entirely devoid of remorse. She took another drag, then smothered her cigarette in a porcelain ashtray, her now available arm draping itself over Sofia’s shoulder. She held her close, but not tightly, not in a way that would suggest she cared whether or not Sofia returned her intimacy. "It must've slipped my mind."

The act was enough on its own to draw out an airy chuckle from Sofia. She brushed a stray hair away from Katya’s face, making a half-hearted attempt to rake her fingers through the tangle of platinum curls before abandoning the effort. “Are you thinking about your husband?”

“I may be,” She answered, rather simply. “Are you thinking about your family?”

“I may be.”

“Broke cunt.”

“Spoiled bitch.”

Katya smiled softly, drumming her fingers against Sofia’s back. It was a subtle hint, but a familiar one, In a moment, Sofia had closed the distance between them, pulling Katya into a shallow, lingering kiss. She was aware of the remnants of Katya’s lipstick staining her lips, but couldn’t bring herself to pay it a second thought, not as Katya let out a slight sigh, falling away and burying her face in Sofia’s shoulder. “Some nights, I wish he wouldn’t come home,” She admitted, with less reluctance than she should’ve had. “I wish I knew when my bed would be left cold and when I would long for it to be. I wish he’d have the decency to mind his distance or tell me when he couldn’t be bothered to.” And then, as her eyes fluttered shut. “I wish I could be with you for longer than a night.”

“No one says you can’t be.” It’d been an idea they’d played with in the darkest nights, in the latest hours. Leaving, running away, ‘eloping’ – when Katya was feeling especially romantic.  None of it was realistic, more akin to the fantastical musings of a pair of schoolgirls than plans two women would make for one another, but it was nice to think about, to whisper to each other when Katya couldn’t find the strength to hold her knife to Sofia’s throat and Sofia couldn’t summon the will to dare Katya to cut down. “We’ll go to Rome, or Florence, or farther – Greece, Spain, America. We’ll find somewhere they can’t follow, and we’ll be happy.”

Katya seemed to relax, a fraction of the tension in her shoulder melting away as Sofia spoke. “And when someone asks for my last name?”

“No one will think to. They’ll be so dazzled by your beauty, they won’t be able to speak at all.” She kissed the top of Katya’s head. “Or, we’ll make you a new one. Something so hideous, no one would ever believe you chose it for yourself.”

She could feel Katya grin against her chest, but her voice remained melancholy. “In another world, one with no husbands, and fewer guns.” And then, as she melted into Sofia’s chest. “In another world, you don’t know how much I would give to be with you.”

Sofia only smiled, holding Katya close for the seconds she could.

“In another world.”