#will my absolute beloved the light of my life my muse forever and ever oh how i love you

[luminescentturtle]

drew this one like RIGHT when i finished watching stranger things and my dad loved it so maybe it’s worth posting here too

[yukiwrites]

Meeting Again, Now and Forever

Thank you for the support and patience as always, @breeachuu! I hope you like it! >v<)

Summary: After getting acquainted with the Traveler, Venti approached her for help with something as important, or even more so, than with the issue with Dvalin: He wanted to find his long-lost love, Auria, who was undoubtedly also looking for him...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

__________________________

It hadn’t been long since the Stormterror Crisis had been dealt with (not to mention how the party had to bolt out of the temple before the illusion on the Holy Lyre wore off), so Lumine -- and, by extension, Paimon -- went to Angel’s Share to rest her weary bones for a bit.

The sight that welcomed her the moment she stepped in, however, shouldn’t have been surprising, but given the state of their goodbyes just a day ago, Lumine hadn’t expected to meet Venti again so soon.

“Ah, Lumine!” The youthful bard smiled brightly once he saw the Traveler step into the tavern, cutting his performance short as though he had already been about to bring it to a close. “Good timing!”

“... What do you mean, ‘good timing’? You look like you’ve been waiting to ambush us!” Paimon crossed her tiny arms defiantly as she flew behind Lumine to snark at the Archon.

“Little old me? Why, I’d never!” Venti giggled adorably before stepping closer to the duo. “To be honest, I wanted to ask a last favor of you, but given how we got separated after our… elegant exit, I waited here!”

The way he smiled brightly could deceive many people (especially elderly), but Paimon only growled and narrowed her eyes. “What do you want NOW, Tone-Deaf Bard? We already went all over the place to help with that dragon business-”

“Paimon, it’s okay.” Lumine waved to shut the little fairy up. “If there’s anything I can help with, of course I’d want to. Is it anything serious?”

Venti smiled in a mature yet lonely way that didn’t go well with his youthful appearance -- it was perhaps the smile of an immortal being as it was confronted with its own endless life. Or perhaps it was a way to make himself seem more mysterious; there was no way for Lumine and Paimon to know.

“Actually, I’m looking for someone.” He bobbed his head to the side, walking towards the counter to sneak some alcohol into his system. “Her name’s Auria. We kind of missed each other during some time of turbulence.”

“...” Paimon sat on Lumine’s shoulder as the Traveler stood beside Venti by the counter. “That’s it? No more hints? What does the Tone-Deaf Lady Friend look like? Where did you meet last? You’re not gonna ask Paimon to look for someone without saying anything, right?”

Bluntly ignoring the talkative little fairy, Venti turned his unmatching mature smile to Lumine. “She’s my special someone; the muse I drink my inspiration from -- the one who’s been with me the longest. I keep sensing her in the wind, but it’s like we always barely miss each other.” He twirled his fingers around as a tiny current danced within his palm before he closed his fist. “Will you help me look for her, Traveler? I’m absolutely sure she’s here in Mondstadt, so the search shouldn’t take long.”

Lumine took a few seconds to nod, somehow appreciating the new side of this mysterious god as she felt the affection that dripped from his words when he spoke of Auria. Paimon shook her head once she saw the Traveler accepting yet another ridiculous request, but even she was unable to fully voice her complaint after sensing the weight of Venti’s words.

“Really?” Venti brightened up like the sun, jumping out of his seat with a spring in his step. “This calls for another song! Lo and behold, as the best bard of the land plays for all of you tonight!” He bowed extravagantly before hopping to the stage he had been earlier, a lyre ready at hand.

Lumine laughed and clapped along with the other patrons, happy that Venti’s mood seemed to have improved.

From the outside of the tavern, a young-looking girl looked up at the starry sky, wondering why the wind seemed so unstable that night…

________

Auria had been hiding amongst the humans for 500 years while she waited for Barbatos to wake up from his slumber, so she was well-versed in dealing with people; though she wasn’t one to stay in a place for long.

“Hmm, what I mean is that… why is it so hard to catch up to a single bard? I hear whispers here and there of his whereabouts, but by the time I arrive, it’s like he’s carried by the wind!” Auria grumbled under her robe which concealed her body, “of course, that wouldn’t be strange, considering Barbar’s personality…”

Sighing, the fairy-turned-sylph looked up to the endlessly blue sky. She had heard through the grapevine about those bard contests -- innumerable, considering the amount of stories to be sung by the many traveling bards in the land -- and had ignored them for two years until she had heard who had been the winner for the third year straight: A young boy named Venti.

Curse her lack of attention! What good was it to possess the power of an Anemo Vision and be clueless about the words the wind carried?

“Hahh…” Auria sighed again, kicking the dust just for the sake of it. She had heard about how Dvalin had left Mondstadt -- which was Venti’s handiwork, no doubt about it. If only she had been there…

Holding back another sigh, Auria took a deep breath and, instead, slapped both of her cheeks to spur herself into action.

“Get a hold of yourself, Auria! Those 500 years of wandering and hiding weren’t for nothing!” She looked up at the fluffy clouds with renewed resolve. “I’ll find him and we’ll finally be able to be together again, just like old times.” She nodded to herself, as though talking herself into action had become a habit she cultivated through the centuries. “Okay, now that’s dealt with…” she looked around the wide prairie before her to check if there was anyone looking before crossing both hands over her chest. “Annd, transform!”

After Auria’s whisper -- word that was actually not needed for her transformation from sylph to fairy to work, but that she had grown fond of using due to Venti’s influence -- she was covered in sparkling dust, seemingly poofing out of existence.

A tiny form, smaller than even Paimon, emerged from the dust, flying about freely to be able to cover the distance to the city. She had changed to her original form of a fairy, before Barbatos had bestowed upon her the very first ever Anemo Vision which allowed her to retain a human-like form to live out the rest of her life beside him.

It took her a while to arrive at the city, as the sky was now covered in a blanket of stars. She poofed back into her human form behind an alley, feeling a weird stir in the air after she felt it caress her face.

It felt as though it was welcoming her into an embrace -- like it was ready to give her what she wanted the most: the hug and comfort of her beloved Barbatos.

“Oh…” Auria covered her mouth with both hands in surprise, her eyes misting with tears. “He’s here! Ven is here!” Her voice shook with emotion for finally being able to grasp Venti’s presence like one catches a petal in the wind.

She closed her eyes and intertwined her fingers in almost prayer, focusing all of her being into the Anemo energy all around her. If she could pinpoint the source of the wind… If only she could, then she would most certainly find Barbatos at the end of it.

All wind and freedom are born from him, so it was no wonder that if one pulled the thread of the wind, they would find Venti at the end of it.

However, it was easier said than done -- there was a high amount of magic energy; differing levels of Anemo and other Visions spread throughout the land to be able to pull at one without finding it entangled in another. It felt like Auria was learning how to knit by untangling yarn instead of weaving it into clothing.

She spent the night at an inn not too far from the most famous one in town as she needed to concentrate on her task, though if only she had walked half a block further… her fate might’ve been different.

________

The next morning, Venti, Lumine and Paimon left Angel’s Share to look for the bard’s special someone, though not without Paimon’s easily-ignored teasing.

“She loves the natural sound of the wind, so I’m sure she’ll be in a place where she can be surrounded by nature!” Venti twirled around himself to make a small whirlwind follow his steps, making dust and leaves dance behind him. “The prairie right outside town should be a great place to look, methinks!”

“Alright, then you can go alone, Tone-Deaf Bard! It doesn’t make sense for all of us to go together, after all.” Paimon shook her tiny legs in annoyance for being ignored after asking questions about the Tone-Deaf Lady Friend.

Lumine nodded in accordance, “yeah, it’s best if we split up. I’ll ask people based on the description you told me, so you should look for places she’d most likely be at.”

“Mhm, mhm!” Venti nodded brightly, taking Lumine’s hand on his before shaking it vigorously. “Thanks again for this, Traveler! Let’s find her pronto! I miss her so much!”

“No one asked, though…” Paimon grumbled beside the duo, puffing her cheeks so they were fit to burst at any moment.

Blinking with sparkling eyes, Venti looked in Paimon’s direction and smiled before giving her a cheeky wink and turning to leave. “Then I leave this area to you! Let’s meet back at Angel’s Share if we return empty-handed.”

After saying that, a current of soft green wind covered Venti, dissipating into warm specs of light once he safely warped himself out.

“Good riddance!” Paimon grunted, wobbling around Lumine before taking a deep breath. “Alright then, let’s go, Traveler! I’m so curious to meet the lady crazy enough to live SO LONG with that Tone-Deaf Bard that I can’t stop scratching myself!” The flying little girl scratched the back of her hand excitedly, wearing an evil smile unfitting to her adorable face.

“Heh,” Lumine smiled before turning towards the market. “Let’s first ask some innkeepers; they’re the best when it comes to dealing with new people.”

“Let’s gooo!” Paimon eagerly flew behind the Traveler.

________

At the same time, Auria gasped, feeling the thread of wind she had barely managed to catch, snap. “Oh, noo…” She grumbled. “Did he warp somewhere? He was just around here in the city, but now he’s flown far away…” Her voice sounded dispirited as her body lumped forwards, on the bed.

Well, technically, she didn’t know if he had flown ‘far away’, but since he wasn’t within her grasp anymore, she pouted adorably, digging her face into the pillow.

She had barely slept last night; she was also starving and tired of trying to untangle the mess of winds and magic around this big city… Pouting even more, Auria growled impatiently before taking a deep breath.

“I’m going… yeah, I’m going to buy something to eat. Bread! Sweets! Fuel for my weary body!” She psyched herself up by springing to her feet, raising both fists to the sky. “Let’s go!”

Soon she left the tavern without checking out -- she was playing on staying until she found Barbatos, after all -- taking only her money pouch and cloak with her as she headed to the marketplace.

No matter how many times she squeezed herself through the stalls, the sight was always marvelous. Humans were truly fascinating in their own pursuit of freedom: from house decorations to delicious food; there was nothing one couldn’t find in this place as long as they looked hard enough.

Auria gleefully bought a bag of baked sweets that looked much too large for someone her size to eat by herself, which warranted her some glances from the shopkeepers as she passed them. Nevertheless, Auria happily munched on a creamy donut as she started to make her way out of the marketplace.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a familiar sparkling dust, so she unconsciously followed it. Since it was just like what her wings in fairy form produced, she felt somehow akin to the flying little girl just a bit ahead of her.

The girl looked too big to be a fairy; not to mention her lack of wings, which cemented the fact that she was not one of Auria’s brethren. Still, Auria found her gaze following the little girl and the one she accompanied -- a young Knight of Favonius, from the looks of it.

Once the duo was out of sight, Auria realized she still had half a donut sticking out of her mouth, so she busied herself with eating it, making her way back to the inn. On the way there, however, she passed by the largest tavern, Angel’s Share, and shrugged before going in.

After all, it would be weird if one that held the title of Most Popular Bard of Mondstadt wasn’t known in such a big establishment. So, renewed with the power of sugar in her veins, Auria went inside with burning eyes.

“Excuse me, I want some information…” She walked to the counter, finding a beautiful flame-haired young man tending to the bar.

“Ask away.” Diluc said curtly, not raising his gaze from the cup he was drying.

“Do you perhchance know of a bard named Venti? He’s about this tall-”

“No need for a description; not only do I know of him, he performed here just last night.” Diluc looked at Auria, then to the piece of donut that fell from her mouth to the floor he had just moped in her surprise.

“He was WHAT? Here?! What?!” She almost let go of the bag of sweets, but managed to catch herself in time to prevent the tragedy. “But I’m just right- across the street? I can’t believe-” She widened her eyes the more she spoke, staring blankly into Diluc’s face.

After a few seconds of astonishment, she caught her breath with a gasp. “Do you know where is he right now? I must meet him!”

Diluc took a moment to reply as he circled the counter to get a broom. “He didn’t say where he was going, but he left this morning with the Traveler and that flying little girl that accompanies her.”

Auria knew who Diluc was talking about immediately. “That young knight of Favonius?” She mumbled more to herself than to Diluc, though he did nod in response.

“Yes.”

Squeezing the bag of sweets, Auria’s heart beat so hard it felt it was about to burst out of her chest. Was that the reason she was so drawn to them back at the market? Were the winds telling her to seek them out so she could finally be reunited with her love?

Her mouth agape as she breathed heavily, Auria’s face brightened with each passing second. “Thank you so much, master! I’ll- I’ll be back!” She quite literally flew out of the door, leaving only the sweet scent of her treats in her wake.

Diluc wasn’t even surprised about such things anymore, so he just finished his sweeping in silence.

________

“Huff, huff!” Auria panted as she turned the bag over into her open mouth to eat everything at once while she ran, clearly unafraid of choking. She quickly arrived back at the marketplace, though due to the sheer amount of people, it was hard to pinpoint a single duo.

Of course, the little not-fairy would be easy to find since she was such an odd sight, but that did not mean that looking would be effortless. Auria put herself on her tiptoes to look above the crowd, but ultimately decided that it would be easier to look from above.

She hurried to an alley and poofed into her fairy form, taking an easy flight high above people’s heads. Looking left and right, Auria flew not too close so as not to be spotted, but not too far so she would still be able to see clearly.

“There!” She pointed to the blonde knight far off in the distance, at the entrance to the pier. “It seems she’s talking to some people, so I’ll just fly down here…” Auria found a quiet spot behind some crates to poof back into her human form, immediately storming towards the place where she last saw Lumine.

She was so eager, she rammed into the young knight with everything she had the moment she took a turn, rolling on the ground in her arms. “Ow, ow, ow…”

“Lumine, Lumine! Are you alright? Who’s this crazy lady?!” Paimon pulled Auria’s cloak to take her off of the Traveler, failing miserably in moving anything but the hood she held on to.

“I’m alright, but-” Lumine shook her head, helping Auria sit up beside her. “Are you okay? Who are- wait… you look familiar.”

“Familiar? Have you seen this crook before, Lumine?” Paimon flew to Lumine’s side, widening her eyes once she took a good look at Auria. “Wait, it’s true! Aren’t you the Tone-Deaf Bard Lady Friend? You are, arentcha?!”

“Tone-deaf-” still dizzy from the collision, Auria massaged her forehead with a groan. “Tone-deaf…?”

“Don’t mind her.” Lumine waved her hand in Paimon’s direction, ignoring the ‘hey, what do you mean by that?’ from the emergency food. “You’re the one Venti is looking for, aren’t you?”

Auria’s eyes sparkled immediately, forgetting the pain and frustration as she took Lumine’s hand. “You know Venti?! Oh, thank the heavens! Do you know where he is? I’ve been looking everywhere for him!”

Lumine and Paimon exchanged surprised and pleased glances. “He just asked us to help him look for you. He left the city for a bit, but we promised to meet back at the Angel’s Share later this afternoon to report our findings.” Lumine nodded to the eager girl holding her hand. “Should we wait there together? It’s best if we stick close lest you two miss each other again.”

“Oh, would you do that for us? Thank you so much, sir knight! Thank you, thank you!” Amidst her emotion, Auria hugged Lumine as she laughed brightly to the point of tears.

“There, there,” Lumine smiled, patting Auria’s back so they could look each other in the eyes. “I’m Lumine, by the way. The one over there is Paimon, so no need for formalities.”

“That’s right! You’re thankful, aren’t you? You gotta tell us more about the Tone-Deaf Bard and how you two met and stuff!” Paimon bounced excitedly all around the two girls. “I need something to kick him in the shin with, keheheh…” She mumbled the last part to herself, snickering evilly.

“I truly am thankful!” Auria sniffled, then got up with Lumine’s help. “I would also love to hear how you two met Venti and what he’s been up to!”

“Sure,” Lumine patted the dirt out of her dress. “Let’s head back to the Angel’s Share.”

________

With each step Auria gave in the direction of the tavern she had left just an hour ago, the stronger her heart pounded. They haven’t seen each other in five hundred years, so the longing she felt to be in his arms was unparalleled.

She tried hard to listen to Paimon’s retelling of how they managed to save Dvalin, but the sound of her heart beating inside her ears made it difficult for Auria to do anything else apart from breathing. And even that was difficult, to be honest.

The wind was restless. Was Venti back? If so, was he already waiting for her? If not, would he take long? It was already the early hours of the afternoon, so he probably should be on his way… oh, Auria could hardly wait!

She didn’t notice, but her steps became quicker the more she approached the Angel’s Share, as though spurred by the threads of wind woven into a breeze. By the time she noticed it was hard to breathe, she was already running.

Her steps fueled by the swirling wind, Auria forgot all decorum and opened the door to the tavern with a loud bang.

The air entered from behind her into the building as though being sucked by a primal being; as though being rolled back into its beginning and end; as though it was simply returning to its master and servant.

The wind swirled around the two adorable twin braids, ruffling the little red cape that covered the small back.

Short of breath, Auria could only gasp as her eyes met Barbatos’ for the first time in a half a millennium. “Ven-” she stuttered, faltering on her feet as she reached out to him.

His clear, aqua eyes widened in surprise as he saw the wind usher her to him, a wide smile covering his face. “Auria!” He opened both arms and ran into her embrace, tackling her with everything he had.

“Ven- oof!” Auria opened her arms to welcome his lightning fast jump, squeezing him into her embrace as they wobbled backwards, falling on top of the incoming Traveler once again.

Paimon grumbled something about the Traveler pursuing a career of safety cushion, but neither of the two lovers heard her.

Auria’s clear tears rolled down her cheeks as she dug her face into Venti’s hair, rubbing her face on it as though to imprint him into her. “Ven! I missed you so much! Where,” she sniffled, “where have you beeen!” She sobbed.

“Hehe,” Venti smiled cheekily, rubbing his face on Auria’s chest as his own eyes itched with unshed tears. “Haven’t you heard my tunes? I was looking high and low for my one and only muse!”

Auria sobbed more, squeezing his neck into her embrace with such force he almost turned blue with lack of air. “I looked everywhere for you…”

“I know, Fairy.” He whispered her nickname in a loving voice, making Auria’s tears flow more intensely. “Thanks for being so good at finding me! What would I do without you, really…” he kissed her neck, then loosened his embrace so he could kiss her wet cheeks before trailing his lips to hers.

Paimon gawked at the sight, covering her eyes with a red face as the two young lovers shared their kiss of reunion, not even bothering to stand after they fell.

“Don’t, sniff, don’t even think about going around on your own again!” Auria dipped more tiny kisses onto Venti’s rosy lips, drying her tears the best she could. “We’ll stay together from now on, Ven!”

“I would have it no other way, Fairy!” Venti giggled brightly, using his frilly sleeve to dry his beloved’s faze. “Now there’s nothing that can separate us.”

[lgcmax]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 ! i’m coming to you with a very late intro, i know, but i swear i’m not usually this unprepared !! anyways, my name is jada, and this is my chaotic baby maxwell “ MAX ” choi ! i love him to death already and can’t wait to start writing with him ! i was here long ago with the short-lived yet beloved zhao chenglei, but life got in the way ! the two are very different, yet i’m even more stoked to be here the second time around & get things going ! i did create him kind of spontaneously, so his plots & bio page is still wip, but you can find his profile here, and some trivia & plot bunnies below ! oh, and LIKE THIS if you’d like to plot, maybe ? i’ll stop talking now, but i hope to hear from you soon !

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 !

first generation canadian who hails from toronto, canada ! a snow baby forever and always, he loved living there and has nothing but good memories there !

he was born maxwell choi, and he’s still called that by family and some old friends, but once he got to middle school he felt the name was too fancy and wasn’t fitting so dropped the “well” and just became MAX !

though he’s canadian, he’s never really felt he was lacking in terms of his korean identity ! both his parents were born and raised there, korean is actually his first language, and he was taught english through school. since he was two he’s been going to korea for the summer to visit his family, too,  so he’s always felt really connected to his culture !

his dad’s a car salesman at his own dealerhsip, and his mom’s an attorney, so he’s lived a really comfortable life. it’s easy to see where his charisma comes from, too ! growing up his dad was more involved in his upbringing, while his mom was on the colder side, so he’s closer to him as he’s the one who was the most loving toward him then and now !

he was expected to take over his dad’s position at the dealership when he was older, but as he grew up he noticed his absolute lack of passion for the career. he thought it fit his dad well, yet couldn’t see him doing something like that !

but during his teenage years he discovered his love for rap ! he always loved listening to it, but when he started rapping along he discovered his true passion.

he didn’t really know what to do with that, however, as it wasn’t a very stable career ! it wasn’t until 2016 when he met someone online through a video game & they became friends that things changed ! they would talk a lot & eventually they introduced him to the world of kpop and ... boom ! everything changed for him. when he realized it wasn’t all girls in frilly skirts ( which hey, wasn’t too bad either ) he found himself being engulfed in this entirely new music genre !

fast forward all the way to 2019, when he auditioned for the company ! it was in january, and there was no way he thought he was gonna make it. they were giving out cds to those who auditioned, and he really just wanted to hear some haru, but it was quite literally the biggest surprise of his life when he got accepted !

his mom was enitrely, and i mean e n t i r e l y, against the idea. she thought a career in the idol industry was fleeting and not profitable and thought it was an embarrassment for him to be apart of. while his father wasn’t thrilled and still has hopes for him to inherit the dealership, he was content seeing his son happy and hoped for his success.

so off max went, to the big city of seoul !! unlike some foreign trainees it wasn’t some great transition for him, in fact he adjusted pretty well ! he had the benefit of being well-travelled and having visited the country often, as well as being comfortable in his korean.

it wasn’t all peaches and roses, however, and he did have some difficulty ! it was the first time he was coming to stay, so he had a tendency to get homestick, and despite everything, he still stuck out. he had a lot of mannerisms, style choices, and just obvious indicators he was a foreigner. he also had to finish off the last semester of his senior year in korea, and he was bummed he missed out on those senior year experiences like graduation, senior parties, and just being with the people he’d grown up with !

whenever he was having trouble, he couldn’t really call home either, since he knew they doubted him and didn’t want to give them any more reason to ! he’s not really the type to share when he’s feeling down, so he really internalized a lot of his emotions at the time, and the bit that he didn’t he confided in with his few friends he’d made by then. definitely a bit of a rough patch for him !

he also may have had some trouble getting along with trainees ! he has a very blunt & extroverted personality, which didn’t really fit with typical korean social norms !

 aside from that, max was a LOT more chill than some of these people. he was passionate about rapping, but some trainees were “debut-or-die” level and he just wasn’t that far ! he’d just kind of look at them like .... why are you making this such a big deal ? i’m just here to have fun ?? so he had a tendency to slack off a lot during the first few months of training and try to bend the rules as much as he could behind the trainer’s backs without getting caught ! which i can imagine would get on some trainee’s nerves.

he does go to university, a condition by his parents for letting him go to korea. he’s a music production major and marketing minor at the moment, but he’s changed his mind quite a few times ! honestly, he’s not all that interested in attending school, but doesn’t have much of a choice and knows it’s an important backup should this whole idol thing not work ! he does enjoy the social life he gets from it, though, because he would’ve had a much harder time adjusting and meeting friends had he not been in school.

now, he’s still pretty sluggish, but after a few company punishments, he’s shaping up and learning how to work harder. he just passed his year anniversary training with the company, and though he has a lot to learn he’s showed promise in his time there !

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 !

very extroverted !!! and he always has been. he feels really comfortable and large environments and is the main reason he thrives as an idol ! can and will pick up a conversation with just about anyone, particularly those who aren’t like him but rather on the more introverted spectrum !

like stated before, he doesn’t really like talking about his emotions if they’re personal / negative. it makes him uncomfortable & awkward and thinks it makes everyone else feel that way too, so avoids it like the plague. if he’s emotional with you ... you’re a keeper !

tends to make light out of every scenario, due to his optimistic nature. he has the mentality that life’s too short to be stressed, so does his best to avoid it whenever he gets the chance ! it can be appropriate at times, and sometimes people perceive it as him not taking things seriously, but really he’s trying to make things better !

a little cocky, considering his lack of experience. he kind of thinks he’s the s***, and he honestly could use a little more humility ! but he’s used to being held on this sort of pedestal, and because of it has a looot of confidence a lot of the time !

very loyal, once you befriend him he’s yours for life ! he values trust and longevity in a friendship, so does his all to give it to you. on the other hand, if you lose his trust, things .... get a little disastrous. he isn’t one to forgive something like that and will quite literally block someone out his life if they do break his trust.

on that note ... he’s also very stubborn !! he likes things the way he wants them, and can hold a grudge for years if he wants to. this is one of the exceptions to his “ hakuna matata ” mentality lmao, but he’s working on it ! he used to have trouble accepting criticism from trainers if he didn’t agree with them, but is slowly getting better at listening to feedback in order to improve.

tends to be a little manipulative ! he doesn’t mean to use it maliciously, but it does sometimes go like that. like i said, he’s got that desire to win other’s over to get what he wants like his parents, so ... that can translate into a little deception !

loves loves loves video games !!! will talk about them all day, if you ask. he’s been hooked ever since the first time he got a controller in his hand and is always looking for some new gaming buddies !

has a secret tiktok account that he can’t really publicize but people have to know ?? he just renegades too good not to have some practice folks

he compulsively says “ let’s get it ” and “ boom ” like the joke he is and it’s a problem, really !! someone please call him out or just .... stop him

also !! he is entirely too CLUMSY for his good. he trips over people, trips over his own limbs, trips over a i r !! there’s just no telling with this guy. he’s so stupid when it comes to coordination, i swear, i almost worry he needs to see a doctor lmao !! but thank god for his clumsiness coming in handy at the exact moment he needs to have a little humility.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 !

the friend he played video games with who introduced him to kpop ( see above ) !! they’ve been friends for roughly 3 years now and they’re the reason he even considered pursuing a career as an idol, so i imagine they’ve grown pretty close ! since they played online, this person doesn’t have to be from canada, and really any muse that knew korean or english well enough to communicate back then ! 

are there any canadian muses ?? i’m not sure ! if there is, i’d love to have some childhood friends who he grew up with ! give me all the angst, softness, or romance that you can muster up !! i love a good backstory.

some friends who he spent the summers in korea with ! he visited june through august of every year, and sometimes spent other holiday breaks there. so there’s definitely a chance for them to grow close ! maybe even a short-lived romance where they hadn’t expected to meet again ??

a senior / older trainee who showed max the ropes ! while he knew a good deal about korea he didn’t have a clue about being a trainee, so definitely could’ve used a bit of help there !! unintentionally this person became a sort of parental figure to max, even if they didn’t mean to or if they’re not significantly older ! either way, they were his first real source of support since the move, and nowadays he’s still very close to them and looks to them for any sort of help or advice he needs !

pleeeeease give him a little crush !! he goes out his way to impress those that he likes, and turns into a true softie !! on the other hand, a bitter exes plot or even exes on good terms could be fun too ! can you tell i’m a romantic yet ? 😥

someone who’s entirely put off by the thought of max ! someone who, unlike him, is planned, logical, or very cutthroat and passionate about becoming an idol ! give me someone to nitpick him for his lifestyle, and someone for him to bicker with and just create a little drama !! 

video game buddies !! he doesn’t have the whole setup like he used to back home, but he does nearly always have his switch on him if your muse is in the mood for a little friendly competition !! fair warning .... he does get competitive !

male dorm h and male rookie evening trainee group gang, let’s go !! that’s a lot to say, but in simple terms, if your muse trains or dorms with him let’s get something going ! max is still a new trainee and needs some friends to spend the long days with, he promises to  make it worth their while !! max has the power of making nearly every scenario entertaining, after all !

[ruthlessnessisyourdesire-archive]

“Please. Please, don’t go.” 

Soft words spoken by the softest lips of all. Caleb pulls her flush. Supple and lovely is her frame sheltered against his chest and he does nothing but caress. Such a face of beauty he could not ask for anything more. 

“My love,” he whispers to sate her fear. “I shall return to you. That I promise. Cross my heart eternally. As I will love you, make you my bride, cherish you forever. You are the only one. The only light I have is you my Lotus.” 

Promises are meant to last forever from the day they are spoken. He held to his promise. Leaving her with the burning memory of them together with a searing kiss, Caleb had to go on. Even if he would rather stay this time of unrest is all the world knows. 

An ageless war of religion tore him from her arms. Even so that last night together before his leaving he made sure to leave a burning reminder of him. Imprinting himself on her body, taking her that final time, Caleb professed his love amid her pleas for more. Always he confessed time and time again. His betrothed was everything and all those who witnessed their courtship knew of their love. 

With such a love it can only cause jealousy, bitterness. Little did he realize leaving his beauty to go off to war would end in his eternal misery. Yet it did. 

When did you die oh ancient vampire?

“During the old age. 1099.” 

When did you resurface on that accursed battlefield?

“....the same year of the Lord. 1099. And then I cast him down when I returned to my home. Found my beloved gone forever.” 

An interview of private thoughts that Caleb never does speak but this time? This time he does. As the man called called Hummel gives him something interesting to occupy his mind. It often falls to her face. He remembers exactly how she looks. How she felt, how she smelled of flowers and honeysuckle; Caleb growls, tearing open the carriage door. 

No more of the lopsided sway takes over their private conversation. He wants blood. He wants to feed!

The tavern is rowdy. Even as he stalks closer, ignoring the calls of the other vampire, Caleb finds a whore ready and willing. He could fuck her. Push her against the side of the alley and pretend she is his long forgotten love. The idea disgusts him. Soiling her name with a filthy whore?! No! 

Instead he thrusts her to the brick with blood thirst overflowing senses. Her scream is muffled against his palm as he sinks fangs into the flesh. Easily they puncture, slicing through to draw the rich life source beyond his lips. Coating them in crimson, he suckles until he is fulfilled. She sags against him. Holding on and beginning to moan as her agony becomes an opioid pleasure. 

“My King!” 

Caleb’s head jolts at the title. Sneering at Hummel’s appearance, he casts away to look into the eyes of his victim. Ruby are his irises in the hue of monstrous craving dazzling her into submission. Forget. Forget you ever saw my face. 

Releasing the tavern whore, she staggered drunkenly. None would believe their eyes. They never do. Let them think she was nearly attacked by this Butcher of Whitechapel. 

Caleb walks back out from the alleyway. Adjusting his coat, he narrowed onto the younger vampire. Though his appearance gave away his older age at turning Caleb still found himself the ancient among all. “Do not bother me while I feed.”

“Sire, please. Let us continue.” 

Let us continue my King. He hears it often. Spoiling the former doctor with tales he would tell no one else. Even his right and left hands did not know of his lost love. However, it was Hummel he found a private confidante in. Daniela and Lexi would not understand. What should they give for a human girl who died during the Crusades? They are not mere mortals any longer. They do not need to know the truth unless absolutely necessary. 

He never thought it would come. Still he thinks it will not but he sits now, on his throne glittering with sapphires, and tilts his head at Hummel now. In the very modern era he feels the technology advance on him. Somehow he keeps up. Even after all these years he finds days where he drifts off and recalls the last time he saw her face. 

“Sire. Let us continue.”

Caleb nods. “Yes, Hummel. Let us.” 

muse inclusion: Hummel ( @coffee-and-guns​ )

mentions: @diivinerose​ @dcwnxism​

[missweber]

Here’s the final part of this story for Day 7 (Free Day) of @lardo-week! Please excuse any typos, but I am falling asleep as I type. AO3 version goes up tomorrow. I had good intentions, but Benadryl.

(Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6)

Read the entire thing on AO3

Chapter 7 - to arrive where we started

"We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time"

–T.S. Eliot

A year after Lardo graduated, her bà ngoại moved into a retirement community. It wasn't quite assisted living, but assistance was available. 

At first, Lardo's mom looked at it as a failure on her own part. As a dutiful daughter, she should be the one to look after her mother in her old age just as her mother had looked after her during infancy.

Lardo knew all too well what it was like to struggle with the idea that what you thought you should do wasn't always the right thing to do. 

Bà ngoại had laughed aside the idea as she patted mom's hand. "We would murder each other, my precious girl. Besides, I'm going because I want go and before I have to go. And all of my friends are there. I'll be able to play cards every day, if I like."

Oh, yes. Cards. Lardo had seen bà ngoại at the card table. Bà ngoại at the card table was like Lardo at the pong table. 

It didn't take much imagination to see a younger bà ngoại kicking everyone's asses at flip cup. 

Scratch that. It didn't take much imagination to see bà ngoại kicking everyone asses now.

"What are you smiling at, child?" Bà ngoại asked with an innocence that fooled absolutely no one.

"The way you're going to totally dominate the canasta table. So, do you need any help moving? I know some big strong guys who owe me a favor or five."

And so it was that all four foot ten of bà ngoại led a procession of current and former hockey players down the halls of the Fern Hill Retirement Community. Lardo wasn't sure what grapevine had been called into play, but all of her bà ngoại's friends had found some reason to pass through that part of the building. 

Later, Lardo would swear she saw one woman fan herself like she was Blanche from the Golden Girls.

If the smugness radiating off of bà ngoại could be converted into energy, all of Boston would be shining like the sun.

Bà ngoại had few enough things that none of the guys had to make more than two trips. Ransom and Holster took their leave as soon as they were done, as did Snowy, but from the look of things, Tater had gotten himself adopted by a couple of elderly Russian widows, while Bitty had locked in on the community's most avid bakers as if he were a butter-seeking missile. She wasn't sure where Jack and Shitty had gone off to, but they could look after themselves.

The larger pieces of furniture had been set where they needed to be with little fuss (except for one carved wooden table which had to be set just so), and all the boxes were placed in the appropriate spots as decreed by Lardo's clipboard.

"Do you need any help unpacking, bà ngoại?"

Bà ngoại waved her off even as she dug into the one box that she had carried herself. "No... actually yes. I would love it if you got my bed made up. I have a few things I need to do before I can call this place home, and then I think I will take a nap."

It didn't take long to find the sheets and make the bad, thanks the clearly labeled boxes. When she returned to the living room, she smiled to see the old photo of her ông ngoại already set up on the carved wood table, right where it belonged, surrounded by the familiar vases, bowls, and incense burner. 

But bà ngoại wasn't done with whatever it was she needed to make this place a home. She held a large framed picture to her chest and was clearly deciding between two possible walls. 

"There, I think," bà ngoại said, pointing to the wall next to the kitchenette. "Can you help me hang this?"

This was a framed picture of a blobby, spiky animal—supposedly a triceratops—in faded pinks, yellows and oranges. It was an unskilled drawing, but Lardo could see the beginnings of a sense of color, of form, of light.

"Yeah," she said, voice thick. "Let's do this."

There was measuring, and marking, and squabbling, and a couple of bent nails, but eventually the picture was up.

"There. Now this is home," bà ngoại declared. Her late husband's photo and her granddaughter's drawing were both where they should be, and apparently that was all it took.

Lardo hugged her gently, remembering when bà ngoại had been the taller one and she was the smaller one. 

Lardo had been Larissa back then, a little girl who had loved dinosaurs almost as much as she loved her bà ngoại.

"Do you remember how you always said you wanted to be a paleontologist when you grew up?"

Lardo sort of remembered that, but what she actually remembered was—

"You always used to get so mad when your parents told people how you used to pronounce it!" bà ngoại said gleefully.

"Arrrgh!" Lardo cringed in embarrassment and tugged at her hair. "They said it was cute! I hate being called cute!" 

The way bà ngoại smiled said that she knew damned well just how much Lardo hated it—and found it cute.

"I remember how much you loved making up stories with your toy dinosaurs. Do you still have that big plush one?"

"Mr. Steggy?" She scoffed. "Heck yeah I still have him!"

"Good. I thought it was a little sad when you stopped being so interested in dinosaurs."

"Mr. Steggy is forever. And now I'm into ducks, which are, like, stealth dinosaurs."

She still remembered the little thrill when she learned that dinosaurs were still around in the form of birds. 

They hadn't gone extinct.

They just weren't what you expected them to turn out to be. But they were still there.

She hugged her bà ngoại goodbye and went to collect her boys.

The others assumed that her thoughtful mood on the way home was due to the idea of moving her grandmother into a retirement community, but that was only part of it.

She thought about all the times her family asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. 

At first, she had wanted to be a paleontologist the way other kids wanted to be astronauts, back when it wasn't the reality of the job you wanted but the cool factor of ACTUAL MONSTERS or SPACESHIPS.

Then, there was the dream of being an artist.

And fuck it, she was an artist. She just also happened to be an equipment manager for a professional hockey team, a job that wasn't in any way, shape, or form on her list of dream jobs at any point ever.

But, via a 'happy accident,' George had mentioned something to Thirdy about needing to train up a replacement for Stu, and Thirdy had said something to Marty, and...

And because a previous 'happy accident' had led her to Jack and a job that got her away from that miserable deep-fryer, here she was.

She had taken to the job like a duck-billed dinosaur to water. It hadn't taken long for the team to take to her. Of course it helped that Jack already loved her, Tater already adored her, Snowy already admired her, and Poots already (rightfully) feared her.

She was jolted out of her musings when Jack pulled up in front of Haus 2.0.

"Later, gator?" Shitty asked. Lardo didn't say anything, but gave him a lingering kiss. 

With training camp starting up soon, it made more sense to crash with Jack and Bitty during the week. In another year, she and Shitty would probably be ready to find a place of their own, so it didn't make sense to move into our out of either place completely.

Jack and Bitty had to go on a grocery run, which Lardo suspected was an excuse to give her some alone time.

Jack was a good bro, really he was.

Lardo let herself into the condo. The picture hanging next to the kitchen pass-through was familiar enough that she didn't usually notice it anymore, but now she stopped to look at it.

Bitty had declared that Still Life With a Fuckton of Jam was one of his favorite graduation presents, and the fact that he hung it by his beloved kitchen said more than a 'thank you' ever could.

She passed by her Junior Show sky-scape as she cut through the living room. She loved that it was owned by someone who saw it being made and who wanted to hang on to the memory of the making of it.

No, this wasn't what she pictured when she thought about being an artist when she grew up, but that dream was still very much alive. Just not in the way she had expected it to be.

It was better. She would never say this out loud, because it would completely nuke her cred, but it was all tangled up in love. 

Even when she was doing work for hire, it was still about the people. She still went to the Macey's used bookstore where the steps she had painted enticed young readers up to a nook furnished with cushions and hidey-holes. And every time, Macey still gushed about how she had wanted a staircase like that in her bookstore ever since she saw one as a child, and now she had the store of her dreams, and wasn't it wonderful?

She was halfway through another commission, this one for a friend of Snowy's who needed a re-do on his mask after getting traded to the Aeros. Jukes was super-psyched about the retro-futurist space-themed design she was doing in the Aeros' silver and red, so psyched Lardo half-suspected that kid-Jukes would have said he wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up (possibly a hockey-playing astronaut—he was Canadian, after all).

Snowy had taken one look at the design and had declared that by the end of the season, Lardo would have a three year waiting list, and that if he weren't so superstitious about his current mask, he'd be next in line after Jukes.

Having another job (one that she loved) gave her the freedom to pick and choose the art she wanted to do the way she wanted to do it and for the people she wanted to do it for. One day, she might be able to do it full time and she really hoped she would get there.

The important thing was, she was an artist. It was an essential part of who she was and who she would be, just like Bitty didn't need to own a bakery to be a baker.

She flopped down on the bed in Jack's guest room (which was already halfway to being 'her' room). She was exhausted enough to want to nap, but too keyed up to do so.

So, she picked up her bedside sketch pad, flipped to a mostly empty page, and began doodling.

She started with a triceratops.

[taotrooper]

Branching paths

Summary: If someone was there to catch him after falling off that tree, that would be wonderful. If Wei Wuxian had waited a little longer in his hug and had not thanked Lan Wangji right away in such a way, he would have found a hand reaching his back. And such a soft display inspired him to try to express the feelings in his heart, with unexpected results.

AU in which there's an earlier confession, earlier revelations, and an earlier wedding ceremony.

Written for @wangxianweek​ 2019, prompts 1-Firsts, 2-Confessions, 4-Journey, 5-Misunderstandings, 7-Promises.

→ Link to AO3

"If he catches me, I'll..."

It had been a strong impulse, prompted by adrenaline and a myriad of emotions. The spark of joy and nostalgia of his hands rustling through the leaves, of his boots balanced on old branches, of the memory of his sister's voice. The beauty of the moonlight reflected on white robes, the steady presence and the dedicated expression of the man he had come to adore, just beneath the tree. Curiosity had taken over him in the form of a question.

Would Lan Wangji be able to catch Wei Wuxian, if he fell down? He was certain of it.

He didn't even give it a second for consideration, to understand it was a bad idea and he could break his leg again. Wei Wuxian had not even finished the sentence in his head when he let go. Yet he knew exactly what his heart planned to do, as soon as he felt those arms quickly moving forward to grab him just in time.

Wei Ying's arms were also fast. He wrapped Lan Zhan's neck tightly. He was so pleased to be right, to have been caught in the air, to smell the scent of sandalwood with his eyes closed. He wasn’t scared of falling. All these years, he had fallen so many times. But falling on the ground still hurt, after all. If someone was there to catch him, it’d be more than wonderful. And indeed, the one in his embrace was more than wonderful.

Two words formed in his tongue: thank you. But both in fear to ruin the mood and in his shamelessness, Wei Wuxian decided to enjoy the moment for a bit longer without saying a thing. He thought it was a miracle the long hair under his fingertips was still silky, after such a violent night.

His musings about the fresh scent of incense or the dark tresses were interrupted as a gentle hand softly landed on Wei Ying's back. He gasped, surprised to have his hug returned. The smile that Lan Wangji could not see was wide and bright.

"Oh, Lan Zhan..." he whispered into the other man's ears.

"...Yes?"

Wei Wuxian wasn't really going to say anything yet except perhaps expressing his thanks. But encouraged by the warm weight of Lan Wangji's hands on his back and waist respectively, he felt he had to say it in more than two simple words.

"I've fallen a lot of times in my life. From trees, from swords —hey, remember that time with the water abyss when you caught me?—, from grace, from sanity, even from existence. But you've been here catching my falls ever since I came back. I honestly don't know how you put up with me, but you do. And I haven't felt this safe in forever. Even during the siege and when the fierce corpses attacked, I felt no sadness or fear because you were with me. And listen, this is so important to me. To say that you have my gratitude is an understatement, you know? I appreciate your presence so, so much, Lan Zhan! I'm glad that you're with me."

At first there was silence only interrupted by crickets. Lan Wangji finally made a humming noise in response, close to a sigh. He moved his hands so his arms were completely around Wei Wuxian. The latter stopped pushing the former's neck, and made it so his forearms rested on those safe shoulders.

"When this mess is over... Chifeng-zun's head, Jin Guangyao, finding your brother... What will you do, Hanguang-jun? Because to tell the truth, and I assure you this is no lie, I don't want to part with you."

His cheeks blushed, in disbelief he had blurted that aloud. He was being too honest and too selfish, but his big mouth had started on its own and couldn't stop.

"Then don't," Lan Wangji replied. "I will stay by your side, no matter what."

Wei Wuxian felt a sharp ache in his heart, as though those words had pierced it like a sword. He laughed nervously. That sort of promise, was he reading too much into it? A good friend or a sworn brother could also say that, right? He even said similar things to Jiang Cheng when they were young and innocent. And yet, he wanted to believe so hard that this was beyond that.

"No matter what?" Wei Wuxian asked, with a hint of teasing.

"No matter what." The voice was firm and resolved.

"Even if I...?" He stopped before he said something he would regret, fearful.

"No matter what." Lan Zhan repeated with obstinacy, not waiting to hear the conditionals. "Always, Wei Ying."

Was this really friendship alone? There was something in the way that 'always' was said that made Wei Ying wonder again if it was wistful thinking. Oh, this was going to eat him alive. The pessimistic part of his brain toyed with the idea of testing Lan Wangji's devotion, and if he was going to be rejected then get through with it already. If things weren't going to change, and if his beloved friend truly wouldn't abandon him, why not confessing? If this was meant to be ruined by his new romantic feelings, then get it ruined already!

The pessimist side won the argument. The optimistic side held on to faith.

He leaned back so his eyes met golden eyes. He could swear there was a glint of tenderness in that stare, but it could be only in his head.

"I'm going to be brutally sincere here, Lan Zhan. I... need to tell you how I really feel about you. This burden in my chest needs to be addressed. And I'm going to ask you that no matter what I say, even if you don't feel the same way, you won't stop hugging me. Because it's scary."

Was it his imagination, or he could read fear in the way Lan Wangji pursed his lips? He felt their bodies shaking into their hug, but he wasn't sure if that was himself shuddering or the other cultivator or both.

"It matters not," Lan Wangji finally murmured. "I won't go back. I'll be here."

Wei Wuxian gathered his thoughts first. He hadn't planned to confess. He had never said words of love to anyone before; the most were flirty lines to random girls that had nothing to do with this passion, this longing, this lust that had started to consume him. He was new in that territory. But he was cornered and had to say it. He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath.

"Okay, so... You're such a good man, Lan Wangji. No, you're absolutely amazing, so cool. You never cease to surprise me, and I've seen a lot of surprising shit! And I'm sure I've told you that I think you're the most handsome person I've ever seen a few times now."

"But?" Lan Zhan dared to ask, with an impatient tone.

"Huh? No buts! Why do you think there's a but? You have flaws, of course, but who doesn't? Anyway, that's not the point. That's what I think about you. What I was going to say was..." Wei Wuxian ignored the queasiness in his gut. No beating around the bush. "Well, ever since I returned, we've spent a lot of time together. And I got to meet you better. I never really disliked you before I died, even though we were in such different places. But now. Um."

Wei Wuxian lowered his eyes, overwhelmed by the frown that emerged above that stare, until he could gather the courage.

"As we spent time together, Lan Zhan, I... I slowly fell in love with you!" he exclaimed, with no smile on his lips. The nocturnal wind caressed their long manes. Under the moonlight, he saw the frown disappear and eyebrows shoot upwards as eyes of the color of light opened wide and seemed to sparkle. Lan Wangji even stopped breathing for a few seconds.

"Don't... ever joke about that," he finally replied. It sounded less as a warning and more as a lament.

"I've never been more serious in my life," Wei Wuxian tilted his head. "Touch my chest and feel my heartbeats if you don't believe me. Look, I understand why you're suspicious. I teased you too much at first, when I pretended to be Mo Xuanyu. At the time I wanted to repulse you so I could go separate ways, but that didn't last long. The joke's on me, Lan Zhan!" He finally chuckled. "Because in the end? It all came true. I was charmed by you. Hanguang-jun, Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan, I like you."

Lan Wangji's hands started to shake even harder. It was Wei Wuxian's turn to be shocked. He could see shining tears dwelling in those beautiful eyes. The sight itself was incredible, but the meaning shook him to the core of his soul. Could it be? It wasn't his wistful thinking? Was he really loved back? He couldn't believe it.

"Or in other words," Wei Ying continued, his heart encouraged by the fact the feeling was mutual, "I fancy you. I love you. I want you. I cannot leave you. I want to whatever with you. I want to night-hunt with you for the rest of my life. I want to sleep with you every night, and let you do whatever you desire. I don't want anyone else but you. It can't be anyone else but you!" He raised three fingers. "I swear it's no joke and no spur of the moment or a way to say thanks. I've never felt like this about anyone before. I'm crazy about you, Lan Zhan. I'll accept everything, as long as—"

Wei Wuxian had to stop. The hands around him had started to squeeze him tighter and tighter with every question Lan Wangji asked, with a hoarse voice and disordered gasps of breath, and every answer Wei Wuxian gave, his voice louder with every affirmation.

"...fancy you..."

"Yes!"

"...love you, want you, crazy about you..."

"Yes!!"

"...cannot leave you... do not want anyone else but you... cannot be anyone but you!"

"Yes!!!"

There was a sound of steps nearby that grew distant and distant, but neither of them could hear them in their elation. Wei Wuxian was so tightly close to Lan Wangji that his chests were against each other. And there he felt it: his beloved's heart, going as haywire as his own. What had he told you the first time he got drunk? That his heart spoke for him. There was no need to ask him how he felt about him anymore. It was obvious! Even a tear ran through the perfect cheek of jade and spilled on Wei Wuxian's shoulder, who then managed to free a hand and he wiped Lan Wangji's skin with his thumb.

With his hand still cupping that face suddenly full of emotion. Wei Ying leaned to join lips gently. Once again, he licked them before they separated. He hovered close, to see if a further attempt would be encouraged. To his astonishment, Lan Wangji didn't even wait and made the move for a deeper kiss. It was ardent and passionate, even furious at times. Wei Wuxian cupped the rest of the beautiful semblance with his other hand, more than willing to return those wild feelings with his own. Mouths and tongues met again and again.

Wei Wuxian was pushed back by Lan Wangji until his back landed on the very tree he had climbed, His soft pink lips were bitten and turned red and swollen. A moan of pain and satisfaction came out of Wei Wuxian. Then a distant memory came to him: a tree, a kiss, a bite, a passion like this that left his legs and heart all shaky in the same manner.

That first kiss! It had been Lan Zhan all along! How marvelous! He interrupted the kisses to chuckle and touch foreheads with him.

"What?" Lan Wangji asked.

"I'm just so happy!" he beamed. "And amused because I just realized that this is the second time you pin me against a tree to kiss me, right? That time when I was blindfolded and someone stole my first kiss, I thought it was a shy maiden but it was you all this time! You really are full of surprises."

Lan Wangji blinked and opened his mouth to reply, but after several attempts to talk, only a more pressing question came out. "First kiss...?"

"That's right, that one was my first. Congratulations, Lan er-gege!"

"B-but you said... you said..."

Wei Wuxian remembered their conversation and started to giggle uncontrollably. His beloved didn't look pleased when he admitted he was full of shit and his brag was a lie, then even distressed by the fact he hadn't defended himself against the unknown attacker to protect that first time. Wei Ying gave him a tender smile.

"Oh, sweet Lan Zhan. But it doesn't matter anymore, it's all fine in the end. Because you're the only person who's ever kissed me, and I'm so glad! I'm... only... yours..."

For a brief moment, his sight blacked out. His hands slipped off Lan Wangji's jaw. But immediately he opened his eyes again and he shrugged it off.

"Wei Ying!"

"It's fine, I'm fine now. Guess I'm still a bit tired after the fight. As much as I want to stay here and be enraptured by you and your insatiable mouth, maybe we should return to the Lotus Pier."

He figured they still had time for other first times in better places, hopefully before the final showdown with Jin Guangyao. Still, he deeply regretted not confessing his feelings before. All the kissing he had missed! And much more!

"Done reminiscing, then?" Lan Wangji asked in a sweet tone.

"Not yet! I still want to take you somewhere, but for that we have to head back."

"Can you walk?"

"I think so. Just hold my hand just in case and I'll be alright."

*********

As fun as it would be to pretend he couldn't so Lan Zhan would carry him effortlessly in his arms —especially to see the faces of all those sect leaders and Lan Qiren if they met them—, he wanted to walk on Yunmeng's soil one more time for old times' sake.

Besides, the hand he was offered was warm and it made his stomach tickle. With fingers intertwined, they walked and chatted while glancing at each other. Lan Zhan's finger was still wrapped in the piece of his sleeve as a bandage, even if he had changed clothes and the cut was probably healed already.

Wei Wuxian's heart still beat like a drum. He was certain that he wasn't the only one this excited, and that was just amazing.

"Now I'm the one who can't believe it," he said, beaming.

"What do you mean?"

"About you loving me. Even more that you've loved me for so many years! All this time I've been blind and wrong about your feelings. I was convinced that before I died, you had almost always hated me, tolerating me at most."

Lan Wangji stopped on his steps and raised his eyebrows.

"Never. Wei Ying, I have never hated you. How could you...?" He made a pause. "Even after Nightless City you believed that?"

"What do you mean? What about that night? Didn't you try to fight me?"

Lan Wangji held his breath in realization of something that eluded Wei Wuxian.

"Wei Ying, your memory is truly terrible..." he said, but his voice was sad instead of angry.

His memory? He tried to make an effort about the events of that accursed night. His pupils dilated when he realized there was a gap in his memories. What had happened after he used the Stygian Tiger Seal? How did he return to the Burial Mounds?

"...I really don't remember anything that happened after I used the Seal, Lan Zhan," he said with a tremor. "Did you... were you the one who helped me escape?"

"Mn."

He felt a foreboding pang in his chest. Had he been protecting him for that long?

"I'm sorry... I don't remember you there at all. I don't seem to have any memory for the following days. What the hell happened there?"

Lan Zhan's eyes seemed troubled for a second, but his demeanor returned to normal. Still, he said nothing. Wei Wuxian grabbed him by the lapels of his clothes.

"Did you... confess your love for me then?"

"Not with direct words like yours." He sighed. "It does not matter, Wei Ying. It's been a long time."

"It did matter to you, so it matters to me now!" He covered his mouth once he realized the implication. "All this time, you thought I knew you loved me, but I..." He had just teased him, gotten into his bed, made his life a torture by acting like that. What had he been doing?! He felt knots in his stomach and throat. A one-sided love directed to such a cruel man, and Lan Wangji still stayed by his side all these past weeks to protect him. This man's patience was beyond limits.

And he had a hunch that there was even more to it. The part that he refused to say.

He truly didn't deserve Lan Wangji's devoted affection.

Suddenly he felt a hand over the top of his head.

"It's behind us, Wei Ying. You've already given me much more than what my heart expected. You are here and you know how I feel now."

"But I'm still so, so, sorry!"

"There's no need to say sorry or thanks between us."

"I promise," Wei Wuxian fussed over, covering Lan Wangji's hand with both of his own, "that from now, I will remember everything you say to me, everything you do with me and to me. I will treasure it all. I won't forget anymore, Lan Zhan! I will respect and cherish your love!"

A smile broke in the corners of Lan Wangji's lips that made Wei Wuxian's body jolt by the sight. It didn't seem possible to love that guy more, and yet his heart said otherwise.

They kissed once more. He was resolute to make sure Lan Zhan would be happy and adored from that moment.

**********

Knees on the praying mat, back in an arc, sticks of incense in his hands and above his head, apologies to Madam Yu for talking bad about her in the Ancestor Hall where she rested. Wei Wuxian then felt a shadow on him. Lan Wangji was also kneeling besides him, even though he didn't really need to. But Hanguang-jun was proper in protocol and posture; since he was there he had to show his courtesy as well, igniting three sticks of incense as well for the deceased of the Yunmeng clan.

Lan Wangji's expression was even more solemn than usual. Wei WuXian turned his head to look at him, his lips curved upwards. Lan WangJi glanced at him and reminded him of the ashes on top of the sticks he was holding. However, he still refused to insert them into the tripod. "Let’s do it together."

Lan WangJi didn’t object. Each with three sticks of incense, the two men knelt among the sea of tablets and bowed down to Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan’s names together synchronized.

"This one to the Heaven and Earth," he murmured so only Lan Wangji could hear him, cheeky smile hidden.

First bow.

"This one to the parents."

Second bow.

"That’s it." Wei Wuxian finally put the incense inside the tripod and avoided Lan Wangji's stare. With palms together, he silently prayed to the couple who had taken him in. He introduced his partner and asked for their blessing, even though that might be too much for them to grant him after the tragedies he had brought to their family. Then he turned around, moving his legs so he'd face the man in white and blue.

"Will you bow with me for a final time, Lan Zhan?"

"Wei Ying! Are you sure?" His face was inscrutable.

"I said I was serious about all of this." He grinned, playful. "Mark my words."

Lan Wangji stood up. For a moment Wei Wuxian felt dread, but then he saw him grabbing his mat and taking a few steps backwards. Once there was enough space, he set it down again and positioned him in front of Wei Wuxian. He was just as determined —no, Wei Ying knew it was much more, after all those years of waiting.

They counted mentally to three.

Mirroring each other, white and black doing the same movement, they prostrated to each other in the same silent vow of love and trust.

As they returned from the kowtow and glanced at each other as if nothing else existed in the world, Wei Wuxian contained his laughter. Half an hour before, he had been afraid of his love being one-sided. And not only in that short period of time he had confessed his feelings but also had married him? How peculiar, the way life worked! And despite how rash it turned out, he had no regrets. His heart was filled with happiness.

...Or it was until they heard the familiar cold laugh coming from the entrance. Jiang Cheng didn't hold back in sarcasm and jabs about the destruction of his family and sect by Wei Wuxian's previous actions. Wei Ying tried to ignore him and return to burning incense to Uncle Fengmian and Madam Yu in peace, yet eventually the malicious words touched on Lan Wangji and the rage spread to him. An 'unwelcome person'? Jiang Cheng was also projecting guilt on the man he loved.

"What's more," Jiang Cheng mocked, "you're even so generous as to take the two to Lotus Pier. The Wen-dog's strolling in front of my sect's gates; Second Young Master Lan here to burn incense, or so you say. You're here on purpose to remind me, to remind them. Wei Wuxian, who do you think you are? Who gave you the face to take whomever you want into our sect's ancestral hall?"

"Jiang Cheng, just listen to yourself. What are you saying? Is it appropriate? Don't forget who you are. After all, you're the leader of a sect. Insulting a renowned cultivator in front of Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu's spirits—where is your discipline?"

"Who's the one insulting my parents in front of their spirits?!" Jiang Cheng yelled. "Could you two please understand whose sect you're in? I don't care if you act so shamelessly outside, but don't you dare fool around and bow to each other inside our Ancestral Hall, before my parents' spirits! After all, they were the ones who brought you up—even I feel ashamed for you!"

"Shut up!"

Jiang Cheng pointed outside. "Mess around outside however you want, whether under a tree or on a boat, hugging or kissing or bowing or otherwise! Get out of my sect, get out of anywhere my eyes can see!"

Tree? Kissing? So he had followed them and spied on them! And still had the nerve to insult Lan Wangji's honor, who had his hand on Bichen's hilt and looked like he wanted nothing more but slice their host up.

"Jiang Wanyin, you… Apologize right now." Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth.

There was a sneer in Jiang Cheng's lips. "Apologize? For what? For exposing your thing for each other?"

"No," Wei Ying refuted and covered Lan Zhan's hand in alert with his own. "We're not ashamed of that. I don't even care if you insult me and call me a shameless cut-sleeve. But apologize for lashing out at my husband who has done nothing wrong tonight."

Hearing this word, Lan Wangji's exhaled the air he was had been holding in and stared at Wei Wuxian in awe. The latter caressed the former's knuckles in quiet confirmation. Husband. Yes, they were husbands now.

Jiang Cheng laughed, however. "Well, this is something. Do you really think bowing at an Ancestral Hall where you're not even welcome makes you his wife or something? Are you disturbing my parents' rest for such a frivolity? Of course they would not approve your weird relationship, after all you two are the reason they're dead!"

Wei Wuxian was furious. "I warn you. Don't make me beat you up."

"You warn me? Warn me against what? If you two had the slightest trace of integrity left, you shouldn't have come here and..."

It all happened too fast. The fire talisman. Zidian. Bichen. A flash of darkness and a stream of blood dripping on white clothes. Weakness and dizziness. His name in the lips of the man he loved. He accepted that they needed to go before the fight before his brother and partner got worse, but he still passed out on Lan Wangji's shoulders.

**********

When his eyelashes fluttered and he came back to his senses, Wei Wuxian had a splitting headache. They were not in the Lotus Pier anymore. The swaying underneath him told him they were on a boat. His head was resting on Lan Wangji's body. The memories of the fight came back to him. After coughing the blood in his chest out out of the board, with a helping hand passing spiritual energy, he felt better. At least physically: the echoes of Jiang Cheng's vitriol were a poison harder to shake.

He was informed the fight continued. It didn't seem like Lan Wangji wished to talk about Jiang Cheng anymore. Wei Wuxian still explained that it was the way the sect leader had always been, handing out whichever insults he can think of whenever he was angry.

"Don't take it to heart," he concluded while he cupped Lan Zhan's face. "Even though that asshole ruined our special day."

The frown disappeared with his gentle touch. However, Lan Wangji said nothing, not even 'mn'. He had already taken it to heart, it seemed.

"Maybe we should have a second wedding ceremony once this is all over?" Wei Wuxian suggested, beaming. "This one went to dark, bloody places! We didn't even wear red! The grooms in white and black? Too unlucky to begin with. No, let's elope and get married again and wear red this time. Real red wedding robes, not only my blood on your clothes. You'll look so handsome, just like in that archery competition!"

A rare, shy smile graced him. "Mnn. You as well."

Before they could kiss again, a voice came out from the other side of the boat.

"Um... s-second wedding?"

Wei Wuxian jumped on his seat. Wen Ning was looking at them.

"W-Why are you here, Wen Ning?!"

Looking up, Wen Ning answered with a blank expression. "Me? I've always been here."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

"I saw that you were talking to Hanguang-Jun, Young Master, so I didn't... Sorry for interrupting." If he could blush, his cheeks would likely be red.

"Then shouldn't you have at least made a noise??"

Holding up the oar in his hand, Wen Ning protested. "Young Master, I've been rowing the boat. I've been making noise all the time. Haven't you heard?"

"...I didn't notice. Enough, enough, stop rowing. The waters are fast here at night. The boat will go on without you rowing."

"Okay." He took the oar out, far from the water. "C-Can I ask about the wedding again...?"

It seemed Lan Wangji had forgotten to tell him the important news.

"Ah, yeah, you weren't there. This is going to sound crazy even for my shenanigans, but we kind of got married in the YunmengJiang Ancestral Hall. Three bows and all. So now I'm Hanguang-jun's husband!" He puffed his chest.

"Mn. And I am Wei Ying's husband," Lan Zhan nodded with a solemn face.

"Oh!" Wen Ning said with a bow, fist touching palm. "I had no idea, sorry! My deepest congratulations, Young Masters. I wish you prosperity and happiness in your marriage."

"Thank you," Lan Wangji bowed back. Wei Wuxian found it curious, as he thought his beloved didn't get along with his corpse friend and ally. At least when he was drunk. Could have something happened while he fainted? In any case, it was better this way.

"You're the first of our friends we tell!" Wei Wuxian boasted. It was not like they had many friends, come to think of it. Wen Ning was the only adult one. Plenty of teenage boys seemed to like them a lot, at least, so they should count as such. Would Lan Xichen count?

Right, Zewu-jun! He had forgotten about him after his love life had taken so many turns in just one night.

"Now back to pressing matters. We don't know Zewu-jun's situation yet. We don't know what those people intend on doing either. How about we go to Lanling first…" All of a sudden, he remembered something. "No. Not Lanling yet. We're going to Yunping City."

"Yunping City?" Lan Wangji raised his head.

"Yes. Yunping City of Yunmeng." Wei Wuxian proceeded to tell them about the title deed next to his old manuscripts at Koi Tower, and how he believed its hidden status was a clear sign that there had to be something interesting or dangerous to find over there.

"Young Master, is Yunping City in this direction then?" asked Wen Ning, pointing out the route the water currents were taking them.

"That's right."

Wei Ying stared at the horizon. The first dawn of their life together was upon them, white and gold taking over dark blue skies. Far away, he could see mountains he hadn't seen in years.

To go with the flow and then deal with the obstacles on the path was, after all, the way he always had done things. Even this jump from friends to husbands was one of those. But no matter; he could take anything and anyone as long as Lan Wangji remained by his side. And now he knew he was more than happy to go on the same boat as him.

But first, he would be a good partner and find some breakfast for his husband. Sometimes you just had to make a pause to jump off a tree or steal some lotus seed pods, after all.

Notes:

Hey there! This is an idea that I had a couple of months ago, where these two hook up earlier and things were a bit less awkward and a lot cheesier. The fact that hand was so close and WWX accidentally stopped it with his thanks made me wonder about the what-ifs.

It ends a little abruptly, but I do want to retake this and tell what happens next in this version of the events as either a second chapter or a sequel one-shot. I just need time to figure out exactly how the Guanyin temple events would change, since that day would turn out quite different. Even if the story is "finished", feel free to subscribe to the AO3 version so you know when/if I get to it. Thank you!

[elizabethhamilton1780]

The Wedding

A/N: Meant to post this way closer to their actual wedding date, but life got in the way. Though, bonus, because I commissioned the lovely @minky-for-short to draw the beautiful piece of artwork below as a companion for this and it’s perfect. Enjoy!

Modern AU: companion pieces here (x) and (x)

Link to original artwork: (x)

The last two days were the hardest. Eliza was being ridiculous— or so her sisters thought. “You’ve made it eight months, you can wait two more days,” Angelica had told her exasperatedly.

They just didn’t understand.

They didn’t know what it was like. The eight months had been long, long and full of confusing letters. Letters that were full of her fiancé’s self-doubt, unwarranted quips of jealousy and his overall pain. He sent her so many letters. She’d sometimes receive letters that contained several pages for days in a row.

She’d be so confused by his frantic words that she’d take ages to reply, which only made him more anxious and perhaps a bit angry with her. It was easy for her to reassure him and his insecurities in person. All she had to do was kiss him a certain way— a certain way that almost always led to other activities that most certainly made him relax. Only then would he finally relax. He became like putty in her capable hands.

But she had no idea how to fix him with her words. I love you just didn’t seem to be enough. She did the best she could with what she had. She began each one of her letters with a short paragraph stating that he was being silly, of course, she wanted to marry him and how that was the one thing in this crazy world of theirs that she was sure of. To wrap it up, she’d apologize for not writing more and reassure him that it was only because of their wedding planning. A lie, of course. Her mother had essentially planned the whole event. Everything except her wedding dress, which was the one thing she had complete control over. She didn’t write to him because she had no idea how to make him feel better with merely a pen.

She just needed him back in her arms. She needed to be with him in person again, to be able to reassure him and to not feel like a failure of a fiancee. So… yes, perhaps she was a bit impatient. She had good reason to be.

Alexander was on his way now. He was being driven by Washington’s personal driver, a fact that bothered him to no end and made Eliza’s heart soar. “It mean’s you’ll only get to me faster,” she insisted to him during the short phone conversation they were allowed. It was true, any sort of public transportation was bound to take forever, what with city after city being evacuated due to the close proximity of the British army approaching. She loved knowing that he was so close with the General. Knowing he had any sort of advantage near the war front with the supply shortages made her worry a bit less.

The General and the rest of his staff would be joining them for the wedding a week after Alexander arrived. Though there wasn’t many of them, Eliza was grateful that he had at least a few guests of his own, since her mother decided to invite every single one of their relatives.

His best man was John Laurens, a very important friend of his that she hadn’t yet had the pleasure to meet. He had been recently promoted before the Schuyler sisters had arrived in New Jersey and had been shipped off to the south to pull together a command. Even he was taking a week of leave to attend.

Eliza sat on the cushioned windowsill on the middle level of their home. She had a blanket thrown over her lap along with a weathered copy of her favorite book. She was trying to read but found herself watching for a pair of headlights through the thick fog covering the Schuyler’s vast property. The snow had finally stopped, but perhaps they decided to find a safe place to spend the night. She wanted him to be safe, of course, but she secretly hoped that he’d insisted on pressing forward.

“Beth, dinner’s ready.” Eliza’s head snapped towards the door and saw her younger sister. Peggy’s recently chopped curls hung well above her shoulders and framed her face. She was wearing a shirt that Eliza was fairly confident belonged to herself.

“I’m not hungry,” Eliza said evenly, turning back towards the window.

“Not eating isn’t going to make him get here any faster.”

“Peggy, I’m really not—“

“You didn’t eat lunch.”

Eliza huffed and turned to face her again. “I’m not a child. I don’t need you telling me to eat or anything for that matter. If I say I’m not hungry, or that I’m not tired, it’s because I’m not. I don’t need you or Ang—“

“Liz.”

“Or Mom for that matter, telling me what—“

“Eliza! Look!” Peggy pointed out the window and Eliza nearly fell off the windowsill when she noticed the pair of headlights turning down their long driveway.

“Sure it’s not dad?” She asked evenly, her dark eyes wide.

“I just saw him in the kitchen. Unless we have a surprise visitor after the ‘storm of the century’, it has to be him—

That was all she needed to hear. She was racing down the stairs as fast as she could, nearly slipping on the dark hardwood floor of their entryway. She threw open the heavy oak door and bounded down the steps. She halted suddenly, watching the front door of the sleek black car. The passenger side door opened and it was like the world finally started to spin again.

His dark hair was pulled back into a bun. He was in a serious need of a shave and a good night’s sleep. The purplish bruises under his eyes were certainly disheartening and he was clearly skin and bones but he was finally here.

It was then that he spotted her and the hard line his mouth had been in melted into the dopiest grin Eliza had ever seen. Her eyesight blurred with tears as she grinned back at him. They met in the middle, embracing each other fiercely. Even though he was much thinner than she remembered, he lifted her into his arms. She nosed at his scruffy cheek while her legs wrapped tightly around his hips and arms wound around his neck. He craned his neck to pull away just enough to press their lips together. It was a long, single kiss.

“Hi,” he breathed, his lips brushing hers as he spoke, setting her on her feet.

“Welcome home.” she hummed, smiling against his lips.

“Home…” he mused, changing the angle of their heads. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too. You’re here, you’re finally here.”

He kissed her again and suddenly someone cleared their throat. They pulled away, but Eliza refused to let go of him. It was Angelica, a smirk on her lips. “Figured you’d rather have me interrupt than mom. She said to get you both inside before you catch your death. Mama’s words, not mine.”

Eliza nodded and entwined their fingers, leading him up the icy steps of her childhood home. She ignored when Alexander inhaled sharply at the sight of her admittedly elaborate home. There were large family portraits hung on the large wall to the left, along with each of the sister’s senior portraits. It was all overwhelming for anyone, let alone Alexander who had never truly had a family.

“You’re just in time for dinner, Hamilton.” Her father greeted him as he entered the room, leaning heavily on his cane. His foot seemed to always bother him more during the cooler months. He offered his hand and Eliza reluctantly released her fiancé so he could greet her father.

“Glad I could make it, sir,” Alexander said, shaking his hand, a polite but obviously exhausted smile painted on his face. “It’s great to see you outside the war zone.”

Philip chuckled. “Oh, I’m much more in my element here, son. My wife’s the general here, as you’ll soon see. I’m afraid I’m useless once the uniform is off.”

“He really is quite useless in everything but military strategy—he isn’t exaggerating.” Catherine grinned as she entered the room. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Alexander.” she hugged him tightly. They’d had a few short conversations with the handful of grainy calls he’d managed to make to his fiancée.

“It’s good to meet you too, ma’am.” He smiled at her when she pulled away, a bit uncertain.

“You must be starving. We’ll show you your room, you can get cleaned up and then get some food in you.” She beamed at her daughter before she disappeared again, her husband in tow.

Alexander turned to face Eliza again, cupping her cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful. More than I remember, which I thought wasn’t possible.”

Eliza’s winter pale cheeks flushed and she kissed him sweetly. “Going to absolutely ravish you the second we’re actually alone,” she informed him quietly, pausing when a thought crosses her mind. “Unless… You actually do want some rest, then I’d totally–”

He was quick to interrupt. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamt of you fucking me the past couple of months? To hell with rest. It can wait.” He nuzzled into her neck as she laughed, stroking his hair despite the greasiness. “Only, maybe I should shower first. For your sake.”

They were pulled away too soon after that and then Alexander was shown to the room he was expected to stay in. It had a conjoining bathroom and was on the highest level of the house, quite possibly the furthest room from Eliza’s, which was on the lowest. She didn’t bat an eyelash at the pointed look she was given, even though it made Alex’s cheeks look redder than she had ever seen them.

They weren’t given any sort of alone time for a few hours. It was killing Eliza, the want almost making her chest burn and ache. It didn’t help that her beloved father kept bringing up the growing stack of problems their young country would face should she gain independence. Her fiancé, her sweet, daft yet somehow intelligent fiancé’s eyes would light up with the possibilities. He offered his own solutions to the majority of their problems along with Washington’s perspective on the matter as well. He spoke so eloquently and intelligently, but all Eliza could focus on was the cluster of moles he had on his cheek or the way she wanted to suck under his jaw.

Angelica eventually joined the discussion, ignoring the sharp look from Eliza. She prolonged the evening even longer by debating with Hamilton.  She had a spark in her eyes that was all too familiar to Eliza, a spark that was waiting to become a flame. The two bantered back and forth with Philip acting as the mediator.

As much fun as it was to see all of her favorite people bond, she couldn’t help but be a tad frustrated. Her Hamilton, who claimed to think of nothing but her the entire period of their separation, wouldn’t even spare her a second’s glance when she squeezed his hand. “Well,” she announced when there was the slightest lull in the full conversation, perhaps a bit too loudly. She stood up, ignoring the amused look on her mother’s face. “I think I’m going to get to bed.”

Alexander scrambled to his feet before she had even finished her sentence. “Betsey—“

“No, no. You all carry on. You’re fairing fine without me, I’m pretty useless when it comes to conversations like these, anyways.” she laughed down her insecurities and tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. He looked like a wounded puppy and Eliza almost felt guilty for leaving him.  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she promised, standing on her toes to kiss his forehead. She squeezed his upper arm before she stepped away. “Night, everyone.”

“Night, sweet pea.” Her mother squeezed her hand as she passed her perch on the armchair. She rounded the corner until she got to the staircase that led down the stairs to her bedroom. She shut the door behind her, trying to shake the heavy feeling that formed in her chest.

What the hell was she doing, marrying a man like that? He was going to be a leading player in the construction of their new government, he’d always made that very clear to her. She wasn’t fit for that sort of life. Growing up in the family that she did, she knew how to smile, be pretty and friendly when spoken to. He deserved and needed more from his partner. He deserved someone like Angelica, someone who was as intelligent as him and spoke their mind freely. Someone who could help build their country as well as their home.

Eliza knelt down by her nightstand and pulled the black shoebox from her lower drawer. It contained all of the letters she’d ever received from Alexander, a pressed flower he had given her once spring had finally broken in Morristown and a grainy old Polaroid photo of her fiancé as a boy, the only one he had. She grabbed the letter that laid on top of the bundle, unfolding it carefully and leaning against her bed to read it again. His words were so confusing, kind yet hurtful all at once. He wrote of a “buxom girl” who made his otherwise unbearable campaign a bit more bearable. He almost accused her of being unfaithful a mere paragraph before rambling about the joy their reunion will bring.

She’d cried on and off an entire day after reading this letter, half the tears from exasperation and frustration, and the other half from jealousy, rage, and sadness. Angelica would have known how to handle this. She wouldn’t have taken the month Eliza took to form a reply, she would have taken an hour. An hour and some witty comeback would have appeared, one that both reprimanded the frustrating man but somehow reassured him too.

She huffed, wondering why she was torturing herself with this godawful letter again. She folded it back up and found its rightful place and returning the box to its drawer. She peeled off her mustard yellow cardigan and jeans, pulling on an old tee shirt she was fairly confident she stole from Peggy and crawling into bed. She reached her arm out to turn off her lamp when her door opened a crack. “Ang, I swear to god—“ she started to threaten, convinced it was her older sister. She cut off when she spotted her fiancé’s amused expression.

“Not Angelica, sorry to disappoint.” He grinned crookedly at her. He entered her room, shutting the door softly behind him, though the unmistakable sound of the lock seemed to echo.

“Not a disappointment.” Eliza denied, sitting up in bed slowly.

“Good, because I’m fairly confident I just auctioned off our firstborn child.” He laughed at Eliza’s exaggeratedly concerned expression. “Well, you promised me a ravishing and then disappeared on me. I needed to find you and this house is like a maze. With my luck, I’d walk into your parent’s room.”

She gently moved the blankets she had thrown over herself to the side, noticing the way Alexander’s eyes lingered on her bare legs. She debated for a moment on sending him back to his room, her heart still stinging from his cruel letter. Though, what was the point in making them both suffer? “So, you promised one of my sisters our first baby?” She beckoned him over, positioning herself so she was resting on her knees, legs folded under her.

“Mhm.” He wrangled with the sweater he had thrown on after his shower, walking towards her blindly and tossing it over his head.

“Which one?” her hands went automatically to work off his jeans the second he was near enough while he mouthed at her jaw, his breath already hot.

He laughed quietly under the curtain of her hair. “Does it matter?”

“It was Peggy, wasn’t it? Seems like a very Peggy thing to do.”

His breath hitched the second she started to touch him through his boxers. “Can we please not talk about your sister right now?”

“Gladly.” She yanked on the chain of his necklace to press their lips together in a rough kiss, pulling him with her as she laid down flat on her bed.

- - -

“You smell like roses.” He hummed afterward into her hair, his arms wrapped protectively around her from behind. “Thought that was just something I dreamt up about you.”

She fought back a smile, turning her head and pressing her lips against his upper arm that her head was pillowed against. “It’s just my shampoo, baby. You could smell like roses too if you’d like.”

He merely hummed in reply, tugging her closer. “Honestly thought I’d dreamt you up if I’m being honest. There’s no way there can be such a perfect girl in the world, let alone one that falls for my sorry ass. But here you are, in the flesh,” he carefully pulled his arm out from under her and carefully hovered over her. “How did I get so lucky?”

He started to kiss at her jaw again, appearing to not being bothered by her lack of reaction. She cleared her throat, dodging the kiss he meant to place on her lips. “Well, I’m no buxom girl, am I?” He seemed to freeze and she took that opportunity to slide out from under him. She threw on her tee shirt Alexander had tossed across the room.

“Okay… That was… I was an ass, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” Alexander sat up, the sheets bunched at his waist, a deep frown set on his lips. “Though, I didn’t realize it had upset you. You didn’t mention it again.”

“I didn’t want to fight in our letters. You were already being so… odd.” Eliza searched for her discarded pair of panties. “And under a lot of stress. I didn’t want to add to it. But it hurt, Alex. Do you really think I’m that shallow, that I’d just forget about you the second someone else looked at me?”

“No. No, baby, I don’t…” Alexander sighed, scooting to the edge of the bed to stand and pull on his boxers. He found her lacy panties under the foot of the bed, handing the flimsy material to her. “You deserve better than me, you know? You can act like it’s not true all you want, but it is. You’re marrying down. I just… I was terrified of you finally realizing that.” He waited for her to slide her underwear up her legs before he took her hands and tugged her closer to him. “It’s a shitty excuse and a poor explanation, but it’s all I’ve got. You didn’t deserve that, baby, and I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Eliza looked down at their hands for a moment, the opal stone of her engagement ring, feeling the rough callouses covering his fingers, brushing against her soft skin. “I feel the same, you know. I think that you deserve more too. Watching you and Angelica together—“

“Angelica? Are you serious?”

“Yes, really!” she snapped, the incredulous tone of his voice striking a nerve, tugging her hands from his grip roughly. “You’re like, the same person. She’s as smart as you, she’s as charming as you and she’ll be able to be more of an asset to your career than I’ll ever even dream of being. And watching you two down there, I could just see you guys at future galas or parties charming everyone—“

“Baby, I don’t picture anyone at all by my side but you. I haven’t since I met you.” Alexander took her hands again, ignoring her attempts to pull away. “Is that why you were acting so weird downstairs?” When she didn’t answer, he tugged her against his body, kissing her forehead and wrapping his arms around her waist. She grumbled but didn’t try and pull away, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“There’s a few things wrong with your theory, Betsey. The first being, Angelica and I would kill each other within a few days of being alone. Second, you have no idea how amazing you are. Everyone who meets you loves you. Which is why people are always so shocked when they find out you’ve agreed to marry me. You’re so charming and beautiful and kind, everyone loves you,” he pressed a soft kiss to her swollen lips. “Thirdly… I’m don’t expect you to be an asset to my career, nor once did that cross my mind when I asked you to marry me. I just want you. I want a partner that I’ll love even when I’m old and gray and losing my hair. I want to wake up to your cute smile every day. I just want you to love and support me and I can promise you that I’ll do the same for you.”

Eliza softened and she nodded, a small smile slowly building on her lips. She cupped his cheeks, keeping her eyes on his. “And I promise you that you’re always going to be enough for me. I’ll never look at anyone else like that ever again. I’m all yours.”  

They sealed their words with a long kiss.

He hummed, bumping their noses together. “You know, we’re basically married now. Does that mean I can sleep in here with you?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Eliza grinned when he pouted, nuzzling in to his neck and hugging him tightly. “I love you so much, Alexander. I’ve been so worried—“

Alex shushed her, running his hand along her lower back. “Let’s not talk about that, Betsey. We’re together now, that’s all I want to focus on. No more talk of war until after the wedding. Agreed?” he pulled away so he could see her eyes.

“Agreed.” She smiled half-heartedly at him, pecking his lips. “Um. So… Since we’re basically married…” she dragged a finger down his bare chest, humming. “It’s technically not a sin if we—“ he had her pinned down on the bed in a less than five seconds, her laughter was muffled by his mouth.

- - -  

Eliza stared at her reflection in a bit of a daze. She was now mere moments away from marrying the love of her life, there was absolutely no denying the term “bride” anymore. She had on the dress, she had on the veil and she embarrassingly enough had the frilly garter on under the full layers of her dress. She expected to look or to even feel different. But, she didn’t. She felt and looked exactly like herself.

To be fair, though, that’s what she wanted. She had refused to let her mother or sisters go overboard with anything, especially the makeup. Her eyes were covered with her usual shimmery gold. Her eyeliner was the tiniest bit thicker than her usual look, a tiny flared wing along the outer corner. Her long lashes thick and curled the tiniest bit. Her lips were painted a natural looking pink, what she usually wore. Her raven colored hair was styled straight down her back, front pieces held back from her face by the flower crown made of red carnations. Her dress was, according to the seamstress, the simplest wedding dress she’d ever seen. The skirt was full, the entire dress made of a pretty lace pattern. The back dipped lower than the front, stopping towards the middle of her spine, the sleeves long and the trim ruffled.

Overall, she felt fairly confident about her appearance. She looked done up, but still recognizable. She was showing Alexander exactly what he was getting, who she was. She never once pretended to be anything but who she was. She wasn’t a doll like Peggy or a genius like Angelica… She was just Eliza. She was his simple Betsey whose only thing she could really offer him was her entire heart. She could only hope that that would truly be enough for him, as he had always insisted.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. “They’re ready for you,” Angelica beamed. Her older sister looked beautiful in the red dress she wore that matched Peggy’s.  She was wearing far less makeup than she usually did, but to Eliza, she still looked more like a bride than she herself ever would. “Ready?”

Eliza was about to nod when Peggy barged into the room. “Everyone’s sat down and daddy’s worried about the storm— Oh.” She covered her mouth when she saw Eliza fully done up and dressed for the first time. Much to Eliza’s alarm and Angelica’s amusement, tears formed in her brown eyes. “Oh. Oh, Liza, you look so beautiful,” the youngest Schuyler sister sniffed.

Tears rapidly formed in Eliza’s eyes unexpectedly. “No. No, Pegs, don’t do this or else I’m going to start to cry—“ her voice cracked at the end and she swallowed roughly, fanning at her eyes, not wanting her tears to fall.

“You guys are both being ridiculous,” Angelica said haughtily but found herself wiping under her eyes to hopefully salvage her mascara. There was a beat of silence as all three sisters looked on at each other before squealing in their usual fashion and scrambled to give each other a tight hug.

“I love you both so much.” Eliza sighed as the pulled apart, Angelica straightening her veil.

“Sisters before misters, always. That doesn’t change now that you’re married,” Peggy said seriously, pointing her finger at Eliza.

“Not the time for the lecture, babe,” Angelica laughed while Eliza nodded vigorously. “We’ve got to get her delivered to her dashing colonel.”

The bride visibly melted at the mere mention of her groom, making Peggy grin. “You’re going to die when you see him, Lizzy. He looks so handsome. I even noticed with Caroline’s plunging neckline.”

Eliza let out a small, borderline hysterical giggle, suddenly feeling more nervous than she ever had in her life. Her sisters dragged her out of the room and down the narrow corridor of the tiny church. She accepted the bouquet she was handed and the kisses she received from both parents, clutching tightly onto her father’s arm before she was led into the room.

There was an echoing sound in the room as everyone stood up to receive her, the sound of the traditional wedding march deafening in her ear. She balked when she noticed the General had brought his wife, a woman she had admired from afar her entire life before she looked straight up the aisle.

Time suddenly stopped. There was nothing in the room but her Alexander waiting for her at the end of what now seemed like a very long distance. He did indeed look as handsome as he sisters had claimed, but even more so. His dark hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, her favorite dopey grin of his plastered on his face. His doe eyes were wearing perhaps the happiest expression she had ever seen. The suit he had splurged on for her and their special occasion fit him perfectly, his frame lithe and a bit too slender, much like the other soldiers who were attending tonight. He was positively the most beautiful being Eliza had ever seen.

How did she get so lucky? How did she manage to entrap him, to convince him to go through with this wedding? Would she ever gain a logical explanation to that burning question? She knew he felt the same about her. It was a question he had written frequently in his letters.

Perhaps that was just the thing about love. Maybe the beauty of the very idea of love was that no one ever received that answer. That one just had to live and trust that their partner is as bewildered and grateful as they are.

Eliza accepted at that very moment that that was going to be a question she’d gladly ask herself in the morning each day, as long as Alexander was snoring next to her.

She smiled tearfully at her dad when he pressed a kiss to her cheek, handing her bouquet to Angelica and taking her soon to be husband’s warm hands. “Hi.” She whispered to him, beaming.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He grinned back at her, small chuckles filling the room.

They decided to stick with the traditional vows, mainly because if Alexander had been given free reign, he openly admitted he would have gone mad. As boring as she fretted that they might be, she found that they meant a greater deal when actually promised to the love of your life. She found herself getting choked up when she promised him “for richer or for poor,” conveying with her soft eyes how much she meant that line, one she knew he worried too much about.

They exchanged their gold rings, her hands steady as she slid the ring onto its rightful place on her groom’s finger. Alexander’s mother’s ring was now positioned safely on the ring finger of her right hand to make room for the simple wedding band. She squeezed his hand when they had linked once again, aching to be able to finally call him her husband.

“I do,” she said clearly when it was finally time to seal the deal, her heart beating faster than ever.

“I do,” Alexander confirmed firmly, his eyes sparkling.

Her hands moved to clutch the lapels of his jacket, pressing their lips together eagerly a few seconds before the pastor had finished their cue. A few kisses were exchanged while their family and friends cheered. Eliza eventually pulled away to hide her face in Alexander’s neck. Her new husband laughed before he kissed her cheek. He took her arm and led her down the short aisle, ducking into the nearby hallway outside the chapel.

“Eliza Hamilton.” Alexander sighed against her temple, Eliza feeling his smile against her skin. “You’re my Eliza Hamilton. I can’t believe it.”

“Yes, yes. Yours, all yours. Kiss me,” Eliza yanked his lips back to her’s, her small hands clutching at his jacket. After a few heated kisses, Alexander wormed away from her strong grip.

“As much as I’d love to continue that, your family—“

“Our family,” Eliza corrected him.

His eyes softened. “Our family’s going to swarming this room in about thirty seconds and I don’t want your father to see how comfortable I already am kissing you like that. Plus, we still have to take pictures and we can’t ruin your makeup.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Though, she still stayed very close to him. “I love you so much, Alexander Hamilton.”

He beamed, kissing her nose. “I love you more, Elizabeth Hamilton.”

She giggled, linking her arms around his neck, tugging on his ponytail. “You’re never going to get over me taking your name, are you?”

“Probably not, no. But hey, that reminds me. Can I see your ring?”

Eliza reluctantly allowed him to take her wedding band, watching him dig his nail into the back of it. She reached out to smack his shoulder, outraged but cut off short when she noticed the piece of jewelry had split into two pieces. He set the now two looking bands in the palm of her hand.

“Look, baby,” he hummed quietly, pulling her body against his, his cheek resting against her temple as they both gazed down at her ring.

“Our names,” she realized quietly, touched.

“Mhm. And look, when you close it,” he paused to demonstrate, snapping it back together. “They meet. That way even when I’m gone, we’re always together.”

She felt a lump rise in her throat as he slid the band back onto her finger, her heart growing impossibly more to fit even more love for this man. “I love you,” is all she can think to say, resting her palm against his cheek.  “Always.”

“I think I like that more than death do us part,” He confessed quietly.

“I do too.” Eliza smiled sadly, not unaware of the grim reality they were facing with the war, or how frail mortality was.

She pulled away before he could kiss her again, ignoring his offended look. She took his hands in hers again, just as they were at the altar. “I, Elizabeth Schuyler, take you, Alexander Hamilton, for my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, for always.“

He huffed out a tearful laugh, obviously trying not to cry. “Fuck, I love you so much. Okay. I, Alexander Hamilton…” he finished his vows once more with their change, sealing their new promise with a chaste kiss.

“Can you two come out yet, we’re dying!!!” Peggy’s recognizable voice rang through the heavy door, along with the unmistakable sound of Catherine Schuyler’s scolding.

Eliza laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, I think that’s our cue, she’ll break down the door if we aren’t careful. Are you ready, Mr. Hamilton?” She offered her hand, small smile on her lips.

“With you, Mrs. Hamilton? Always.”

A/N: The letter I talk about the most in here can be found here. When I read it, I was hurt for her, so I wanted to include a bit of that reaction in here because some of his letters (while also romantic) are sort of mean! Like I hope she gave him a bit of hell because they’re ridiculous. Thanks for reading!

[xxlovendreamsxx]

Title: patience (or lack thereof) Summary: Exasperated by the slow process of Sasuke and Sakura getting together, Kakashi and Naruto discuss their relationship. Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. Prompt: An Outsider’s Point of View Rating: K A/N: I tried to get this out for ssmonth but couldn’t manage to before a very important visit arrived! Oh well, at least I still whipped this out ahhaa. I think many of you will love this one :)

“Those two are impossible.”

Never looking up from his forever-favored little orange novel, Kakashi merely hummed in reply, distractedly stirring his chopsticks into his miso soup’s steaming broth. “Give them time, Naruto,” he drawled. “It’s only been six months since he came back from his journey.”

But his former student didn’t seem to feel the same, throwing his arms up expressively. “Exactly, Kaka-sensei—it’s been six months!” he exclaimed. Naruto leaned his head back against the frame of the chair, groaning hopelessly. “What the hell is Sasuke doing?”

At this, Kakashi glanced at him, lips tugging lightly under his mask. Naruto only proceeded to lean forward again and shove a handful of noodles into his mouth, features annoyed. It was just like him to get frustrated that things weren’t moving along fast enough between his two best friends.

“Sasuke is healing and trying to put his life back in order,” Kakashi calmly settled to explain, returning to his beloved book. He absentmindedly poked at a piece of grilled eggplant. “He’s spent years away from us on a path that he knows now did neither him nor anyone else any good, and now he’s trying to come to terms with all that.”

A snort of pure disbelief sounded beside him. “Oh come on, he’s had two years to work through that—and you know he’s been doing great lately!”

That was true enough. Still, Kakashi simply shrugged in response. “Maybe not well enough to his standards.”

Naruto groaned again. “But his standards are ridiculous, Kaka-sensei,” he lamented. “If Sakura waits on him to get up to his own standards, she’ll be waiting forever!”

True again, Kakashi mused. Reaching to flip to the next page of his book, he simply said, “Probably.”

Out of the corner of his visible eye, he watched as Naruto scowled at him. “Stop acting like you’re fine with that!” the blond snapped, hand flying out to snatch the erotic novel from him.

Fortunately, Kakashi managed to safely pocket it in time. A sigh fell from his mouth. “I’m not,” he eventually replied, propping an arm to the table and his head onto his palm. “I called them in the office last month just to have them in the same room together, didn’t I?”

Naruto rolled his eyes. “Some good work you did…” he muttered, turning to his meal again.

Kakashi wasn’t fazed by his sarcasm. “It was,” he said. “Sasuke walked her home after that.”

Snorting, Naruto waved him away. “Whatever. It’s not like he’s never done that before, anyway!”

“True,” Kakashi replied, lone eye crinkling. A real smile finally tipped to his lips, barely visible under his mask. “But they’ve been walking a whole lot together since then, haven’t they?”

With a sense of satisfaction, he watched as his former student reluctantly crossed his arms over his chest, and frowned. “…I guess.”

Kakashi smiled wider. “Progress,” he declared, all too pleased with himself.

Naruto rolled his eyes once more, shoving another handful of noodles into his mouth. “Slow progress, you mean,” he grumbled, still chewing as he spoke. “Way too slow.”

Kakashi shrugged. “Progress anyway.”

Swallowing, Naruto gestured Teuchi for an additional order, before taking another full bite, brows still furrowed. “How long do you think it’ll take before they end up together, anyway?” he asked, nodding in thanks as his favorite restaurant owner handed him a brand new steaming bowl.

Patient, Kakashi waited until Naruto had wolfed down the rest of his ramen and begun on his new portion, before casually proclaiming, “They’ll be married by next year, most likely.”

Naruto promptly choked, sputtering on himself and hacking wet coughs. The sight almost sent Kakashi laughing.

“What!” he rasped, still coughing, blue eyes widened impossibly. “You—You’re insane! Why would you ever say that? At this rate, Sasuke will only have held her hand by next year!”

Amused, Kakashi shook his head, and took out his beloved piece of literature again, resuming his reading. “Tsk. You’re too focused on the present, Naruto,” he said, sounding positively confident despite his composure. “The two of them have always had an intensity to their bond—they just need a little push to get going, that’s all. Once they do, I’m sure things will unravel rather quickly between them.”

“No way!” Naruto replied, scowling again. “As if the bastard would know what to do!”

Flipping to the next page, and gaze never straying from his novel, Kakashi merely said, “Bet you a hundred ryos.”

There was a pause, then; slight, weighted, and transparently stunned—but completely expected, if Kakashi was honest with himself. When the moment was over, he could practically feel Naruto’s eyes narrowing at him.

“You’re sick, you know that right?” the blond said, clearly unhappy with him. “I am not making deals on my two best friend’s relationship, Kaka-sensei! What kind of guy do you think I am?”

Smiling, Kakashi turned to him, visible eye crinkling. “Two hundred ryos?”

Naruto practically reddened with anger. “No!”

“Oh—one thousand, then.”

It was almost comical how quickly Naruto stiffened at this, scandalized features receding to something more complicated. He was clearly fighting with himself.

Then: “…Alright, alright, fine,” he said, reaching out to present a hand in finalization of a bargain. Naruto’s eyes hardened with determination. “One thousand ryos says it takes them at least two years if they keep going at this rate.”

Kakashi shook his hand without hesitation, smiling wider. “Deal.”

.

.

Two weeks later, as they sat at Kakashi’s favorite restaurant on a pleasantly calm evening, Sasuke and Sakura revealed their intentions to travel.

Completely taken off guard, Naruto and Kakashi both took a moment to pause and stare at them, limbs frozen in the act of eating. After a short while, they turned to look at each other, blinking with surprise.

“For how long?” Kakashi asked, trying not to sound as curious as he felt. Had he and Naruto underestimated how close the two were already? Maybe Sasuke and Sakura spent more time together than they thought.

Naruto, alternatively, remained silent at this, seemingly speechless at the news.

“I’m not sure,” Sakura replied, cheeks reddening faintly as she glanced at the man at her side. This alone was almost enough to confirm his thought. “Sasuke-kun?”

Sasuke merely shrugged. “Don’t know. We’ll decide as we go,” he said, sparing Sakura a seemingly soft look.

Kakashi watched as her features brightened in return, blush blooming deeper across her cheeks, making her look particularly happy. He knew then that he was right: the two of them were much closer than he and Naruto previously suspected. His chest warmed contently, pushing him to throw a knowing stare Naruto’s way—one which the latter only responded with a brief glare.

This doesn’t mean anything, he knew Naruto would say to him, were the other two not here. Sasuke is still obviously moving at a snail’s pace, so you’re still wrong in your bet!

Fortunately for them, neither Sasuke or Sakura seemed to notice their muted exchange, perhaps too caught up in their own line of thoughts judging by the pensive look on Sasuke’s face and the sweet, bashful smile to Sakura’s mouth. Kakashi felt oddly pleased at this.

(they were both transparently excited, in their own ways.)

“And when are you two leaving?” he inquired to them both, reaching to nonchalantly flip over some still-grilling meat, feigning mild indifference to it all.

(after all, if sasuke somehow came to know how big of a deal this really was, there was a chance he could pull back from it all, crushing sakura’s heart once more.)

Naruto still didn’t know what to say.

Blinking out of her girlish daze, Sakura merely smiled wider and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hm. Three weeks, maybe?” she said, putting a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “I have to make sure my responsibilities at the hospital are all delegated properly. I don’t want to cause trouble…”

A noise of disbelief fell from Naruto’s mouth. Kakashi beamed beneath his mask in the hopes they would brush him off.

“That’s wonderful,” he said. “I hope you two will have some most interesting travels.”

As you explore each other, his impish mind added. Kakashi merely beamed brighter.

Glancing shyly at Sasuke, Sakura merely blushed once more and said, “Yes, me too.”

There was no mistaking the contentment painted across Sasuke’s features when he looked at her, too.

And when the waitress arrived to see how their meals were doing in the moment that followed, Kakashi took the opportunity to silently lean Naruto’s way, murmuring, “I’d like to change my bet. I say they’re going to have a child by this time next year.”

It was hard to hide his smile as Naruto made a strange sound in reply, face contorting with absolute mortification, flushing into a deep shade of red.

“Naruto?” Sakura questioned, apparently immediately taking notice of his state. “Are you okay? You look like you have a fever. Maybe you should—”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” her flustered teammate replied, voice a bit strangled. He threw a furious glare Kakashi’s way. “Just, uh, choked on my water, that’s all.”

A poor excuse, Kakashi reflected, forcing himself to cough in an effort to hide the light chuckle that escaped him.

Judging by the manner in which Sasuke’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at them, he evidently thought so, too.

.

.

Surely enough, three weeks later, Kakashi and Naruto found themselves standing at Konoha’s worn gates, arms crossed over their chests and warm smiles to their lips, watching the quietly enamored pair trekking away from the village they called home.

(side by side, brushing arms, gazes locked softly as they began an adventure of their own; a journey of trust, and peace, and love.)

It was only as they were nearly faded out of distance that they noticed Sasuke’s lone hand reaching out for Sakura, seemingly grabbing for her own.

Kakashi cleared his throat to keep from laughing; he’d never seen Naruto’s eyes widen so much.

“One thousand ryos, hm?” Kakashi mused aloud, positively pleased. He stroked his chin lazily through his mask, and threw Naruto a teasing glance. “I think that will be just enough to buy the newest special edition of Icha Icha.”

Glowering at him, Naruto’s face reddened, before he scowled. “Don’t get cocky, old man,” he warned, pointing a finger at him indignantly. “Just because he held her hand, it doesn’t mean they’re going to get married and have a child by next year!”

Swirling on his feet, he began to stomp away angrily, completely flustered. “It took him eight months to hold her hand alone!” he exclaimed, arms flailing around expressively. “EIGHT MONTHS, KAKA-SENSEI!”

Kakashi simply shrugged. “And by next week he’ll have kissed her already,” he said, unhurriedly following after him.

He couldn’t help the light laugh that left him as Naruto shouted a furious denial in response.

.

.

It took a year and a half of waiting before Kakashi and Naruto finally received a letter informing them of their teammates’ impending return. Minds buzzing, the two of them impatiently made their way to Konoha’s gates with pounding hearts, overtly eager to see their friends again—and to find out what kind of progress was made during their lengthy travels.

Fortunately for them, barely an hour passed before Sasuke and Sakura finally came to view far into the distance, spurning Naruto to jump into place, flailing about frantically as he yelled both their names. Kakashi wasn’t surprised when only Sakura responded to his call, waving a hand back happily, shouting back at them.

“Hey, Kaka-sensei,” Naruto said, then, tone dripping with smugness, urging Kakashi’s head to turn in the direction of his former student. He’d never seen him look so cocky. “I don’t see a baby,” Naruto went on, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk.

Shrugging, Kakashi merely relented and sighed, moving to dig into his pocket for his money pouch. Oh well, he mused, flipping through his bills to amass the amount of ryos he now owed the man beside him. He gave them up without fuss. Maybe I overestimated Sasuke a little too much.

But, he found, it wasn’t really much of a loss when the two slow-burning lovers finally neared enough to allow him to discern the transparent changes to their features. There was no more bashfulness now; no more hidden insecurities. Only glowing contentment, boundless trust and an unspoken intimacy—indicative of a bond now so strong Kakashi was sure could only have been strengthened in marriage.

At least I was right about that much, he thought, smiling as Sakura trotted forward to give them both hugs, giggling most excitedly.

“Oh, I missed you two so much!” she gushed as she pulled away from them, the smile to her lips blindingly happy. She reached to ruffle her blond teammate’s hair. “Did you grow a few inches, Naruto? I swear you look taller!”

Grinning proudly, Naruto seemed to blush a little, hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. He merely felt sheepish, Kakashi knew, the crush he harbored for Sakura already long gone with the years. These days, it was clear that all Naruto wanted was to see her with Sasuke, happy and in love—the both of them.

(a wish already fulfilled, really, but he wouldn’t know that just yet.)

And then, a faint whining noise snatched all of their attentions, sending Naruto and Kakashi jerking in surprise towards Sasuke’s form, eyes unbearably wide.

“Oh,” Sakura started, before either of them could properly take in this new situation, “she must be hungry—this sounds about the right time for her next feeding.” Smile softening with such immense fondness, she made her way towards Sasuke, who was already pushing his cloak aside with the stump of his arm. “Here, let me take her, anata.”

With lightly gaping mouths and astonished minds, Kakashi and Naruto both watched as Sasuke gently transferred the barely-month old child cradled snuggly in his single arm into the arms of his (now indisputable) wife, mismatched eyes warm as ever. It was several moments before Kakashi seemed to be able to catch his thoughts again, a flurry of exhilarating feelings bubbling intensely at his heart.

He was right!

Fighting against the urge to grin, he lowered his head to sing cheerily to the still-gaping man at his side, “One thousand ryos...”

Snapping out of his stunned gaze, Naruto glared at him fiercely before quickly shoving him his money back and tossing out his frog wallet as well, feet stalking towards his two best friends. “You guys got married?” he screeched, voice shrill with a strange mix of happiness, anger, and disbelief. “Scratch that, you had a baby?” Waving his arms around expressively, Naruto went on, “A year and a half ago, you weren’t even dating! What happened!”

Amused, Kakashi watched as Sasuke simply scowled in response and moved to seemingly try and shelter his wife and baby from Naruto’s cries. His glare was sharp as he said, “Tone it down, you idiot! You’re scaring my daughter.”

For once heeding to his warning, Naruto then somehow managed to skirt and duck around Sasuke’s form, eager to peer down at his best friends’ baby girl. “Oh gods, Sakura-chan, she’s so beautiful! Can I hold her?” he cooed, wrapping a proud arm around Sasuke’s shoulders. He ignored how the latter grunted and tried to pull away in vain, clearly annoyed.

(it was clear that he appreciated the gesture, to some degree—kakashi knew just as well as naruto that had he really wanted to, sasuke could have easily slipped out of the hold.)

“Not right now, Naruto,” Sakura replied, smiling proudly at the child in her arms. “I need to feed her.”

She shooed him away, afterwards, laughing lightly as Naruto pouted, but listened anyway. Then, she turned to present her back to them, and seemed to fiddle with her shirt, her smile taking a particularly glowing shade as her husband offered her his cloak for additional privacy.

“I can’t believe this,” Naruto said, as Sasuke turned to face them once again. “What happened over there, Sasuke-bastard?” he demanded. “You need to tell me everything!”

“I don’t need to tell you anything, blockhead!” Sasuke snapped, throwing him a dirty look.

It was Naruto’s turn to scowl at that. “Shut up, asshole! I’m your best friend and you didn’t even have the decency to invite me to your secret wedding? If anyone had the right to be there, it’s me!”

Watching them bicker from his place a few spaces back, Kakashi smiled, feeling accomplished at last. Sighing contently, he pocketed his well-earned money and started walking towards them, eyes crinkling. “Now, now,” he said, “both of you settle down—you’re going to upset the little one if you keep shouting like that…”

.

.

Nothing had ever been so worth the wait.

(...and money.)

[artificialqueens]

Lipstick City (Sashea Lesbian AU) by Oxford

 AN: So it’s been a minute. This is the longest fic I’ve ever written at 13K+ and honestly I could have kept going despite it being piss poor in quality. I’m not too satisfied with the ending but it’ll do for the purposes of not going on and on forever! This is inspired by Lipstick City, set a year after the events of the film. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. - Oxford 

 “Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.” ― Euripides, Medea

She was wearing Chanel No. 5 draped in her Cartier Paris Nouvelle Vague necklace and all was right in the world once more. Shea Couleé  lounged on her satin chaise, the epitome of ethereal serenity, with her dark eyes cast down to a crinkled copy of Tipping the Velvet. 

Unopened storage boxes towered around her, the team of removal men had spent the majority of the past few days like a colony of leaf cutter ants in a constant procession until they pleaded for dismissal; there was still half a truck to unload. She had journeyed away from her beloved Chicago, from her friends and parties and modelling agency all in the name of love. The love for an eight million dollar empire called Couleé Enterprises.

Shea had married Mr Couleé, the debonair ex-bachelor son of the newly deceased CEO, three years ago back when she was a high rising socialite in the Parisian scene. Born and bred in France, the two fled the European circle in search of expanding their success and found themselves front and centre of Chicago’s elite. 

With a well respected surname and abundant financial security, Shea launched her modelling career to the awe of Chicago. Statuesque with poise of a classical dancer, Shea’s face could be found in any fashion magazine. She was Grace Kelly and Grace Jones combined. But all that was lost once more as her husband followed the money trail out of the city and into a small town just outside New York.

The echoed slam of a door caused Shea to pause her reading but her eyes did not leave the page.

“Darling, I am heading to work now.” Her husband called; in French, of course. Shea had ruled that whilst they were alone they were to only speak their mother language to keep the romanticism alive. He popped his head round the door and observed his wife in her relaxed position. “I shall see you tonight for dinner.” Without waiting for a reply, he pursed his lips, kissing the air and vanished. Shea exhaled deeply. The novel carelessly slipped from her fingers.  Alone completely. Friendless, lost in an unknown town, Shea found little comfort in her housebound state.

Rising, Shea glided to the bay windows, sashaying around the precariously placed boxes. The view from the crystal glass overlooked the vast green patio of her chateau, extending so that Shea also had a full view of the neighbouring garden. Her neighbour thus far had remained a mystery, the modest house seemed silent and unhabituated but the decking that Shea was privy to was crammed full of potted plants of roses. Interesting. 

An iron cast table and chair set looked weathered and well-used, a smaller ceramic pot was sat on one of the two chairs. Shea guessed that perhaps the resident lived alone. In her peripheral vision, sudden movement coming from the house excited her. The backdoor had been swung open and Shea watched with the hungry anticipation of an isolated extrovert to see who would be revealed to her.

At first all she saw was light blonde hair, sleek at the roots but styled so that it permed out half way down the head. The figure, a woman - a young woman – to Shea’s surprise, tottered out in black Capri trousers and a pink blouse. Her face was obstructed by round sunglasses that perched on the end of her slender arched nose. The woman perched herself at the rusting table and chair set holding a book Shea could just make the title of. Gender Trouble. Very interesting. 

The peeping housewife felt her mouth go dry. She was known back in Chicago as a determined individual, if she wanted something she got it and that included people. Imposed friendships always worked in her favour, for who didn’t want the attention of such a talented and glamorous individual that Shea undeniably was?

A (presumably) single young woman living by herself in a small town couldn’t possibly refuse the friendship of big-city star Shea Couleé. Suddenly, the door bell rang loud and Shea jumped into a scowl. The new workforce her husband has employed to run the excessively vast house as Shea instructed kept her busy for the rest of the day. By the time she had a free moment to return to the bay window in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the woman next door, the garden was deserted. Shea ruffled the curtain in annoyance before storming to resume her homely duties.

The next three days were nothing but curious glances at an empty garden. Shea knew she should have just gone over there on the first day to introduce herself but in between the house staff and a visit from the local Women’s Association run by two enthusiastic women called Alexis Michelle and Trinity Taylor, who implored her deeply to grace the weekly meetings with her presence, Shea was unsure if the woman she had seen even occupied the house daily.  

Maybe she was a figment of Shea’s desperate mind? That was, until, a light rhythmic tapping roused her from a Vogue catalogue one afternoon. And there she stood. On the porch, her hands twisted together around an A4 sketch pad, the mystery neighbour beamed with the widest smile at Shea’s surprised yet delighted expression.

“Hello, darling.” She laughed and Shea could not help but return the smile, charmed at the enthused informality. “I’m awfully sorry for not introducing myself sooner but work has taken over my life recently. I’m your neighbour from the next door down, Sasha, how have you been settling in? Is this a good time?” Shea moved from her languid position against the door frame to extend her hand invitingly.

“Absolutely, impeccable timing, chérie.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss on either of Sasha’s pale cheeks, aiming to impress by displaying the full French allure. Unfazed, Sasha leant into the gesture, squeezing Shea’s hand warmly. “Enchanté…Sasha. Shea. Shea Couleé.” Sasha laughed.

“What a fabulous name! You are French? What a breath of fresh air you are to this provincial town.” Shea kept Sasha’s hand firmly in her own, her famous confident smile blooming for the first time since arriving in the unfamiliar town.

“On the contrary, Sasha, it is you who are the breath of fresh air to my lonesome situation. There is not much here in terms of company for a woman, it seems, unless you are a middle-aged housewife. The Woman’s Association have already bombarded me with their…hospitality.” Sasha laughed harder, the sound was unfeminine but filled with unreserved joy, which Shea could not help but fixate her smile on.

“Oh they’re an alright bunch, really. I go to their meetings every once in a while to help out in the community and do art for them. It is a good way to get to meet people so I’d recommend you go a few times if you’re not too introverted.” Shea nodded in consideration.

“Will you be at the next meeting?”

“I shall.”

“Then so shall I.” Sasha flushed, evidently flattered at Shea’s declaration. The model continued, intrigued by her guest. “You do art?”

“I do.” Sasha nodded passionately. “I love painting and photography and performance art – all sorts. Art is revolutionary, you know, it’s so liberating and freeing from social constructs. Not many people appreciate its power. Anything and everything can be art. I lecture at a university in New York and do art shows on the side so…I’m a bit of an art enthusiast.”

“I shall have to get you to paint or photograph me sometime.” Shea pondered before adding with sanctimonious modesty. “I’m a model.” She revelled as Sasha’s eyes widened with awe.

“I can definitely see that.” The two fell into a buzzed silence, anticipating each other’s next words, wanting to say so much more. 

Shea soaked in Sasha’s pale complexion, they were almost at opposite ends of the spectrum with Shea’s dark hand encased by strikingly white fingers. She admired her quirky yet still upscale regalia, Sasha was fitted into a tight orange pencil skirt and a banana yellow turtleneck. The gaudy blue rose pinned above her breast was, however, questionable. 

Much to Shea’s dismay, Sasha turned her head to glance at her own house. “I should be going, you must be terribly busy with unpacking. Please do come over to mine whenever you feel like it. I’m always in after two-thirty. I should very much like to get to know you more, Miss Couleé.” Shea fluttered her lashes. Releasing Sasha’s hand, she resumed her sloped stance against the wooden frame, her hip jaunting out.

“Shea, please. It’s Miss Couleé if you’re nasty.” Winking, she hummed a laugh as Sasha chortled loudly again. She’s either oblivious or she also enjoys the works of Nineteenth century Sapphic literature, Shea mused as she waved her neighbour goodbye.

“Women’s Association, this Friday, Seven O’clock.” Sasha called over her shoulder as she strolled across the small patch of green to her house. “I’m sure Alexis gave you the address.”  

The long summer days leading up to the Woman’s Association meeting passed in a daze. Shea looked out for Sasha in her garden, only spotting her once watering the excessive amount of roses and had to look away to prevent herself from banging on the window to get her attention. She barely noticed her husband’s company, or lack thereof, instead occupying her time with fantastical thoughts of Sasha. 

Her voice had been deeper and smoother than she had originally expected yet its tone was calming and soothing on the ears. She fantasised how erotic it would be to have Sasha read Tipping The Velvet to her as she lay on her chaise lounge in her finest lingerie. She was also enticingly tall, almost reaching Shea’s height. Her pale skin juxtaposed the vivid brightness of her azure eyes and were framed splendidly by big dark expressive brows. And those lips. Shea groaned as she pictured those delicious full red lips that formed words with unusual elegance.

Shea didn’t pride herself on having a type. She was most definitely open to everything and anyone…as long as they were of the familiar body type. Her husband, she was sure, did not pay enough attention to notice this. He was welcome to have his own distractions with flimsy skirts at his workplace as long as he was discreet. At the beginning of their marriage Shea had convinced herself that she had been in love with him; still unsure of her curious feelings towards women. Yet once she felt the sting and heart break over his affair, Shea had tossed caution to the wind, determined to find solace and satisfaction by sating her desire for women. She had, of course, been painstakingly discreet in her rendezvous’.

Only once had there been public rumours of her husband’s adultery, almost smearing their brand name. Shea had be furious. She has screamed and tore at the expensive possessions they had worked hard to afford. They could NOT afford public scandal, it would crumble their empire. He had promised it wouldn’t happen again and begged for forgiveness. Shea had scorned him, insulted that he assumed it was her pride as a wife that had been hurt. She had no qualms if he found satisfaction in the arms of another woman, oh no, just do not jeopardise his – her – their – fortune. Money was everything.

When the night of the meting came around, Shea was filled with shy nerves. Whether it was do to with being accepted by small town minds or being reunited with Sasha, the woman could not tell. She walked around aimlessly, watching as clusters of women hovered in and outside the hall, trying to spot the tall fair-haired figure with an air of blasé confidence. Sasha was sat at a round table surrounded by Alexis, Trinity and a two other women varying in age by the names of Peppermint and Nina.

“What are you looking for, Sasha?” Bright eyes turned their attention back to Peppermint.

“I had thought I had convinced my new neighbour to come along tonight.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Rich folk rarely leave their houses to mingle with the community riff raff.” Chimed Trinity, sitting to Sasha’s left, pausing her conversation with Alexis. “She’s married to some big CEO from Chicago, so I heard. Lucky bitch.” Sasha’s smile downturned.

“She told me she was a model.”

“Honey, she’s not going to afford a house like that just by being a model.” Said Alexis. Sasha laughed dryly in response.

“Have you seen her? She’s pure art.”

“I prefer more classic tastes myself.” The elder woman sipped on her drink. “In fact, I think –”  

“You came!” Sasha jumped from her seat, banging into the table resulting in multiple drinks to spill, and ran towards the tall dark beauty before her. Shea smiled cockily, secretly relieved, flicking the ends of her locks over her shoulder.

“Of course I came, I told you I would.” She grasped Sasha’s shoulders softly before tilting her head to kiss her cheeks in familiar greeting. Sasha gazed up at her with admiration and glee. “Now are you going to introduce me?”

The rest of the evening was filled with a steady flow of drinks and conversation that rose in pitch and tone as argumentative topics were debated. Shea noticed that whilst Sasha was definitely on the quieter side of the group, she had no fear of putting her point across when she felt it should be heard. She had placed Shea in her own seat, stealing Trinity’s when the woman had left to get another cocktail. As the booze set in, everyone’s posture relaxed and tongue’s loosened. Sasha had her arm resting behind Shea’s chair and Shea felt inclined to lean her back against it so that her fur coat brushed against the pale hand.

They stole glances at one another and smiled when their eyes met every time, giggling and passing comments in hushed tones as the older women slurred insults at one another. They argued over who was the producer of an old amateur dramatics production they had created. Rolling her eyes, Sasha pulled a face as Alexis claimed to have been given a smaller part due to dedicating her time as a producer. Hiccupping, Shea gave her meaningful look a she sipped on the remnants of Sasha’s cocktail. Red lipstick stained the straw but Shea didn’t care. The blonde smiled with mirth and Shea had a fleeting thought about how pretty she looked.

“Would you like to come round mine sometime?” Sasha asked sweetly, giggling.

“How about now?” Shea shot back, shooting her a flirtatious look. Again, Sasha merely laughed.

“For dinner. Or late lunch. Or just drinks.”

“Dinner.” Shea agreed. “Two Mondays time, shall we say six?” Sasha beamed.

“I’ll see you then. Otherwise….I know where you live.” Shea chuckled at the whimsical threat.

“Ooh girl, that’s not exactly a punishment I’d avoid.” Any other occasion Shea would not have easily let herself flirt shamelessly. But this was a new beginning, no one here really knew her and her socialite status did not follow her into this suburban town. The alcohol loosened her tongue and made her feel uninhibited. Shea was also realising that Sasha was a very good sport, laughing at all her jokes and flirtatious jibes that Shea was curious to see how far she could push it.

“Miss Shea Couleé,” Sasha drawled, her body swaying in her seat slightly under the influence. “Are you even married with the way you talk like that?” Shea paused, her smile frozen.

“Girl, I’ll have you know it was this mouth that got me my husband.” She licked her tongue across her lips. Sasha smirked and fiddled with the hem of her short patterned dress. Shea let her eyes flicker to her bare thigh. Her gaze traced up, appreciating the slender form of her friend. “And, as the ladies here have speculated, his eight million dollar fortune.” She regarded Sasha’s reaction but the other girl smiled sympathetically.

“Pay none of these women any mind. I hope you’re very happy together.”

“I…am.” Shea knew she didn’t sound sure. “I am happy. How could I not be? I have more money than I can spend. I’m beautiful and fierce and smart and my friends back in Chicago love me. I’m a model in magazines, people know who I am.” Sasha nodded with a pensive expression.

“You must love him very much.” Shea dropped her gaze, the raucous party around them long forgotten.

“I’d have nothing without him.”

-X-

When Monday rolled around, Shea spends the majority of the humid afternoon laying outfits on her bed in preparation for her meal with Sasha. Lost in the inspection between two dresses, Shea’s husband wondered in.

“What are you up to, darling?” Without turning, Shea continued to scrutinize her outfits.

“I’m going out to dinner with our neighbour. Sasha.” Shea heard shuffling behind her but didn’t care enough to see what her husband was doing.

“That’s nice. Who? Never heard or seen any neighbours.” Shea gave a non-committal hum. The man behind her reviewed himself in the floor length mirror. “So what are you doing with yourself these days? I never see you round the house anymore.”

“I spend my time with the Women’s Association. Sasha and I go. She’s going to paint me or photograph me.” No response. Finally throwing a dress behind her, Shea strutted to her shoe cupboard.

“Is that who you call at all hours of the night?” Shea pretended she didn’t hear the question. “You know, Sasha’s a pretty sexy name. Russian.” She froze. Her heart caught in her throat.

“I thought you didn’t know of our neighbours? I’d prefer if you kept your trysts at your workplace and not make a fool of yourself where we have to live.”

“Oh, you heard that then.” Her husband folded his arms and glared at her. “Answer me. Is that who you’re calling at every ungodly hour in the night?” Shea turned to face him and studied his face.

“Yes.” He sighed, expression relieved.

“Good. That’s fine. Just try to keep it down when you’re calling your girl friend. As long as it isn’t a man I have to worry about.” Shea gaped at him incredulously. “Also, I told you I’m not going to have any affairs anymore. It was just a one time mistake.” Lies, lies, vicious lies. Shea bit her tongue, her fiery temper burning to demand the truth.

“No.” She snapped. “I am not and will not be calling a man.” Mr Couleé nodded indifferently and made to exit the room.

A deep cold loathing rose to Shea’s throat. She clutched her shoes with a vice grip forcing herself to not throw them at the back of her husband’s head. It was indeed a fact that, after the first WA meeting Shea attended, Sasha had scrawled her number onto Shea’s napkin with a pencil the artist had found tucked into her hair.

“Call me. Anytime, day or night, if you need someone to talk to.” And as the days bled into one another with no interaction from people outside her household Shea had, with trembling fingers, called her one night. It had rung only three times before the low, smooth tones of Sasha’s voice answered cheerily.  

“Hello?”

“Bonsoir chérie,” Shea winced as she glanced at her grand oak clock. “I am sorry for calling you so late, you weren’t sleeping were you?”

“Hi!” Sasha’s voice had sounded drained and Shea had bit her lip, mortified for clearly disturbing the woman. “It’s okay, I was just cleaning up my brushes. I had an inspired session in my studio tonight. Who knew painted animated projections could look so Warhol?”

It soon became a ritual that every other day Shea would call Sasha in the evening, making sure to not disturb her time in her make-shift home studio creating art. Shea would tell stories about her life in Chicago, her friends there, Lipstick City where the life she lived was beyond the imagination and the crazy shenanigans only stupid people with a stupid amount of money could pull off. Sasha listened avidly, asking interesting questions and offering her own thoughts. 

She presented her own encounters in New York, her performance art, her gallery shows, her social rights works. She spoke eagerly about what she thought the deconstruction of gender would mean for people outcast from the norms, people she knew and loved and shared her art with. Shea wanted to see that side to Sasha’s life. She wanted to take her back to Chicago to meet all her artistic friends and have Sasha school them on what the colours of the rainbow meant and how beauty can be found in anything if you look at it in different perspectives. It was less than a fortnight before every other night descended into calls multiple times a day.

The permanent fixture of this routine raised eyebrows amongst Shea’s house staff. They watched apprehensively as the housewife increasingly spent her time locked away, isolating herself with the telephone into the early hours of the morning. She never ate with her husband for any meal, it was rumoured that they hadn’t seen each other face to face since arriving in the town, taking to live in opposite sides of the house. Some wondered if it was a European lifestyle choice. Others wondered if either partner was having an affair. A minority of smart, thoughtful individuals wondered their estranged relationship was due to Shea’s love of homoerotica extending beyond  literature.

When the hour drew closer to their awaiting dinner date, Shea fixed the details of her outfit before strutting outside to march next door. She was shrouded in diamonds from her neck to her wrists and fingers. Her curves were accentuated by a black bodysuit with gold embroidery. The essence of opulence.

The house was a fraction of the size compared to Shea’s. The paint was peeling and rot was setting in. A purely sorry state. Checking her makeup in her compact, Shea fiddled with her curls as she rapped on the door. A beat passed before it was flung open and Shea could not contain an amused grin. Adorned in a fuchsia pink sparkling evening dress with a giant feather flower pinned to front, Sasha had a crown - was that made of felt?… – perched precariously on her head.

“It’s a good thing I dressed up for the occasion.” Shea laughed. “I love this.” She pointed to the crown and Sasha laughed, her smile simultaneously eerily wide and beautiful. “Very glam.”

“You look gorgeous.” Sasha gushed as they exchanged pecks on their cheeks. “I have to take your photo tonight in my studio. I’ll put it in my magazine – with your blessing of course.”

“How could I resist such an offer?” Shea cooed, strutting into the small living room. She eyed everything, eagerly embracing all the mess. Art supplies were strewn all over book cases haphazardly, posters and polaroids and sketches were pinned to the walls. A true artists den.

“I know this is isn’t as grand as Maison du Couleé,” Sasha said awkwardly, coming up beside her. “but it’s home.”

“It’s perfect.” Shea smiled warmly. “I’m very nostalgic, this reminds me of my first apartment in Paris.”

“I can’t ever imagine you in anything but the chicest and most high-class setting.” Sasha confessed, leading the way to the cosy kitchen. Shea watched her dress sway and curve around her behind with appreciation.

“Oh I was a banji bitch in my time. I’m just equally as bougie now.” Sasha offered a dining chair for Shea as she prepared food at the counter. “I should take a picture of you right now. All dressed like a queen doing her own cooking. Tells quite the story.” Sasha chuckled, blushing the same colour as her ensemble.  

“I never let anyone cook for me. I am queen of this castle and in my kingdom I get to choose what I eat and no one can force me to do otherwise. Mainstream media can fuck off with their body shaming, telling women what and not to eat.” Shea regarded her quietly, a deeper story set behind her words. Deciding not to ruin the mood and dwell on it tonight, she instead gave a breathy sigh.

“Well don’t take it out on the iceberg, you’re practically fisting that salad, girl, let alone tossing it. You use your hands so forcefully.” Sasha instantly snorted and smiled coyly.

“Well, it is known that that bisexuals are some of the most forceful and unforgettable lovers…”Shea felt her stomach tighten as Sasha’s features creased as she choked into laughter at her own joke but instantaneously twisted her face seductively.  Shea felt flawed at the transformation.

“Wanna try some?” She offered her folk up invitingly. Shea traced her tongue over the shape of her lips dramatically.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Leaning over, Sasha brought the folk to Shea’s open mouth. Shea refused to break eye contact as she wrapped her lips around the utensil and moaned deeply. Sasha didn’t move, her eyes were glued to Shea as she swallowed and moaned heavily. Even though the innuendos were a regular circumstance of their time together, tension hung in the air tonight.

“You like that?” Sasha murmured, her head tilting forward unintentionally. Shea watched the action with exhilaration.

“Hmm…needs more chocolate. Nobody eats enough chocolate around here.”  Pale cheeks deepened to a rose hue.

“I agree, I love eating chocolate. But Shea, this is the entreé, not dessert.” The line between humour and sincerity had blurred. Shea gorged herself on the sight of Sasha’s quickened breath, her chest rising and falling at a foxtrot speed and the suggestive allure of her countenance. The only question was, how was Sasha seeing all this? Was it still just a joke? She had stopped laughing but…

“Sasha,” Shea drawled the name affectionately. “Do you have solutions for those of us who love to eat dessert but hate waiting until the end of meal?” Shea slid her hand cautiously across the table to cover Sasha’s. The blonde didn’t move, her face was unreadable. Hesitantly Shea rose from her seat, her hand still in place above the smaller one, her gaze held the unspoken question. This was not Shea’s first time trying to make a pass at a woman and she was confident in herself that her techniques worked. But this wasn’t a random acquaintance in a Chicago bar, this was Sasha. Her neighbour. Her friend. Her best friend. “You never actually told me you were bi.”

Sasha shrugged nonchalantly.

“My sexuality doesn’t define me and is definitely not the most interesting thing to talk about.” Shea nodded.

“Agreed. It’s no one’s business. At all.” Self-assurance flowing, this was the moment, the taller woman  swooped down to finally kill the chase. Sasha jerked her head away. Shea halted, her eyes opening wide with shock.

“W-What…”

“Nice try.” Sasha’s voice was soft with disapproval.  Shea stuttered incoherently. “You’re married, Shea. This was cute but I’m not actually going to sleep with you.” Pulling away gently, the blonde backed herself against the counter.

“So you’re not into me? At all?” Shea pressed, wounded. Sasha’s eyes narrowed sympathetically.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it. I just don’t condone cheating.” Shea clenched her jaw.

“So men can have all the fun but us women have to sit tight, put up with their shit and rise above it?” Sasha was taken aback by the abrupt tone.

“I didn’t say that, did I? Why be with someone if you’re just going to cheat on them? A relationship should be built on love and trust.” Shea laughed derisively.

“Try explaining that to my husband.” Wide blue orbs sparkled with pity into dark emotional irises. Crossing the space between them, Sasha wrapped her arms around her friend.

“I’m sorry, Shea.” She whispered into her neck. The hairs on Shea’s neck tingled and stood to attention. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, is it.” Shea sighed, dropping her head into the blonde locks. She smelt like roses. “I’m not in love with him. I was but…not anymore. I’m so lonely here. All my friends are back in Chicago. My modelling is there. Everything. I’m trapped in this stupid town in that stupid house. No one understands me. Expect you.” Shea timidly brought her arms around Sasha’s waist, accepting the embrace.

“I know, I know, darling.” Sasha consoled. “You’re always welcome here, this is your home now too. You’re an incredible person, Shea, don’t get lost in the negativity.” Shea felt her chest ache. How was she supposed to let go of Sasha when all she felt from her was nothing but the love and acceptance she craved? Her fingers trembled, resisting the urge to dig into Sasha’s waist.

Dinner forgotten, the two young women made their way hand in hand to salvage the rest of their date. Entering the tiny dim studio, Sasha proudly presented her current art pieces to her new audience; an elaborate explanation was recited alongside each canvas and Shea could see the art lecturer in her bloom. Smiling at the set up, she sauntered over to the camera and struck a pose.  

“Here’s your photo opportunity, ma chérie, make it count.” Sasha laughed but hastily lit the set before capturing the arabesque form.  

“Art.” She declared. “Let me take another.”

The sun had melted into an ebony nightfall, unbeknownst to the two friends as they crammed prop after prop into a stream a photos, Shea very quickly coaxing the artist into the frames with her. Laughter rang around the room, completely private, no one to witness the two women dance about in playful bliss.

“I wish we could do this every day.” Shea sighed in contentment as she slipped into the other side of Sasha’s bed. There had been no suggestion of Shea retiring back to her own empty abode. She had quietly followed Sasha, tiptoeing behind her while Sasha smiled knowingly to herself but refrained from commenting.

“There’s no reason why we can’t.” Sasha hummed, letting her dress plummet to the floor. She bared no shame or reserved-ness towards her scantily clad form. Shea averted her eyes as her bed friend removed her stockings and bra before tossing on a satin slip. She has leant one to Shea for the night but it rode too high and her breasts felt exposed. Not that Sasha showed any notice. Shea quelled the bubbling excitement as her mind wondered to fantasies that stemmed from her extensive literature collection. As soon as the room snapped into darkness, the second figure dipping into the bed seemed intimately close.

Shea shuffled to make herself comfortable and brushed against the side of Sasha’s warm body. Murmuring an apology, she frowned as the only sound in return was shallow breathing. Of course she would be asleep instantly, Shea rolled her eyes. Yet despite her complaint, she found herself rapidly following suit. 

The two bodies drew closer as the night progressed, arms thoughtlessly flung themselves around, drawn to the softness and heat of the other. If any trespasser were to come across their resting silhouettes, they’d be none the wiser that the two weren’t steady lovers. Sasha’s hands curled into Shea’s chest, her head buried into her shoulder. Her companion had a hand flung possessively over her hip, fingers curling into the skimpy slip.

The next morning proved a lot less idyllic. Sasha had a piercing alarm set for the crack of dawn, her lecturer life commanding attention back to reality. Shea groaned in protest, swearing under her breath in French, as the warm body in her arms rolled away. Gripping the now abandoned pillow as a substitute, Shea let herself fall back to sleep whilst Sasha quietly prepared for the day ahead. When she finally felt herself succumb to the waking world, Shea immediately felt her back muscles tense. Maybe there was a way to replace Sasha’s mattress without her knowing about it, she pondered in her hazy state. A red note was carefully positioned on the bedside cabinet.

Good morning sleepy head!

I’m afraid I have lectures all day, so I won’t be back until this evening. Feel free to help yourself to breakfast although I’m afraid you may have a more luxurious variety in your own chateau.

Please put the spare key back through the letter box once you go.

See you tonight at the WA?

~ Sasha ~ x

A tender smile etched across Shea’s lips. She arched her back, trying to ease the knots that had been caused by broken bed springs. Swinging her long legs over the bed, Shea traipsed to the tiny kitchen – the uncooked food from the previous night remained untouched in their positions around the crammed work counter. Opening the fridge, Shea cringed at the pitiful state. Leftovers, a spilt carton of milk and some cherry tomatoes were the only contents. So much for breakfast, Shea thought dryly. Flinging the door closed in disgust, the model huffed as she contemplated her current predicament. No food, messy kitchen…only one thing for it.

-X-

Sasha was more than ready for a quiet night to herself after an arduous day with her art dealer. Her hand was being tied to committing more hours to her work, the demand for another soiree was the highest yet but Sasha knew her art, however celebrated, did not pay her extortionate bills. Her hair had frizzed in the heat, the sleek parting appeared dishevelled but Sasha merely hid the mess with a cylinder hat. 

Her favourite rounded sunglasses slipped down her face as she trudged with her materials to the porch. Fiddling with the key, Sasha bit her lip in confusion as the lock refused to turn. Did Shea forget to lock the door when she left? The door opened under her touch and Sasha cautiously entered. Bold brows rose, startled, as a figure lay like a Grecian statue on her davenport sofa.

“You’re still here?”

Shea smiled from her spot, opening her arms in welcome. Sasha noted the change of clothes and pristine makeup and wondered if Shea had gone home to spritz up before letting herself back in.

“How was work, chérie?”  Kicking off her heels and glasses, Sasha dumped the contents in her arms to the side before descending into Shea’s open arms. She felt charmed at the domesticity of the situation, not used to having someone waiting for her return.

“Work was hard.” She sighed in between the now commonplace kisses on cheeks. “Budge over, my feet hurt.” Making room so that Sasha could sit with Shea’s head in her lap, the two stared at each other in comfortable silence.

“I bought groceries.” Shea commented, crossing her ankles. “You had no food.” The blonde grimaced, bringing a hand to run through her hair resulting in her hat falling behind her.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Shea gazed up at her, a sweetness to her expression that made Sasha bite her lip.

“I wanted to. I can’t have you starving, now, can I? You got a nice ass but the rest of you needs feeding up.”

“Don’t, you sound like everyone else.” Sasha admonished.

“How many people have you got telling you your ass is great?” her friend jested, flicking Sasha on the arm. Sasha laughed sarcastically.

“What else did you do today besides be my little hausfrau?”

“I cleaned your kitchen  - well, I sent my staff over to clean it up and I made you dinner.” Shea admitted, her fingers tangled in her beads nervously. “Is that too much?”

“It’s…extremely thoughtful of you.” Sasha praised, mustering an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

“C’est ne rien, ma chérie.” Full dark lips pouted up her companion to blow a kiss.

They spent the next two hours recounting their day, Shea proudly presenting the meal she had slaved over with her own two hands. She was not about to admit that it had taken her the best part of the afternoon to perfect. She mulled over her glass of Cointreau, silently congratulating herself as Sasha flooded her with praise after praise. The woman was, however, disappointed when Sasha suddenly declared that she was leaving for a meeting with Alexis, Trinity and the woman only referred to as Peppermint.

“I thought you said you were tired.” Shea’s voice hitched, pleading for her friend to retire for the night with her.

“I am but it’s important.” Sasha insisted with a final tone. “We’ve got a responsibility to our community.”

Conceding, Shea soon found herself in the midst of a fiery debate over a charity performing arts showcase. To her right, Sasha was passionately defending ribbon dancing whilst Alexis was imploring to the table that the show should focus on Broadway show tunes. Soothing her temple with a gloved finger, Shea sighed.

“Is there no way we can have both and move on from this?” Peppermint chimed in agreement, nodding vigorously whilst Trinity decided to throw in her own ideas. What a mess. Sasha’s were brows furrowed in disgruntlement as she beseeched the bickering table.

“Listen, I think we should – ”  

“What we really need to be doing,” Shea interjected, raising her voice above the blonde. Sasha glared at her, resenting how her friend cut her off rudely. This was her idea. They should be taking direction from her, the artist, as to how this show should be directed. Granted, Sasha had to acknowledge that Shea’s contributions were very good. But she did not appreciate being forcibly ejected from the debate. Silently seething, the blonde simmered to herself.

“Sasha you agree with me, right?” Shea whipped her head round expectantly and Sasha felt the burn of four demanding faces. She had to steer this debacle away from potential bloodshed and tears.

“I do really like your ideas, Shea,” Sasha affirmed. “But – ”

“Honestly, this whole thing is a shambles right now,” Alexis said, loftily. “You’re clearly not used to a leadership role for a project this size and it’s showing. You’re behaviour is too insecure to manage this project.” Sasha was stunned.

“I think I’m doing just fine.” She straightened in her seat. “I think my strategy just doesn’t work for you, Miss Alexis. I would be better if everyone stopped talking over me and  -”

“To be fair,” Shea, intercepted. Sasha bit her tongue in exasperation. “We’ve all been going off over Sasha but she’s been trying to keep us in line and create something that includes everyone.” Alexis leaned forward, waving her hands as she spoke. Trinity and Peppermint threw side glances, roused by the heated debate.

“Frankly I feel like Sasha is explicitly trusting you and your vision of this more than mine or Trinity’s or Peppermint’s.”

“Actually,” Sasha’s voice rose in outrage. “I feel like Shea is stepping on my toes a little bit.” Affronted, Shea’s eyes shone with surprise and hurt.

“Honestly, I was just trying to share my ideas –”

“You straight up just spoke over me like everyone else did, to be honest.” The two eyed each other wearily, an awkward strain rising between them.

“Time to call it a night.” Peppermint piped up.

“Agreed.”

Shea had driven Sasha and herself to the disastrous meeting however as they parted, the blonde made a move to walk away from the direction she had parked in.

“Hey,” Shea called, soured by Sasha’s mood. “I’m driving you home.”

“I would like to walk.” Came the curt reply. Shea exhaled sharply and stomped over to the woman, grabbing her hand.

“Just get in the car, Sasha, you’re not walking home in the dark.” Sasha blinked before shifting in embarrassment. The ride home was thick with a tense silence. Shea was thankful when they finally reached their destination. As she pulled up, she twisted her body to face her friend.

“We’re really not going to fall out over Alexis wanting to micro-manage, are we?”

“It wasn’t just Alexis.” Sasha chastised, looking up at Shea’s worried expression. “You barely let me get a word in, either. I expect that kind of thing from them but not you.”

A lump formed in Shea’s throat, she fought the urge to argument defensively; something she would have done to her friends back in Chicago.

“I…I just wanted to get involved.” Sasha smiled, dolefully, placing her hand above Shea’s.

“I know. Your ideas were the best ones, anyway. I just wanted this to be an equally collaborative project.” She gave a slight squeeze of her hand before taking her leave. Shea remained. Her pensive countenance was noted upon when she finally forced herself to return to her own house, a sinking sensation weighing upon her. Her husband had not noticed her absence, wholly apathetic to her plight. He was leaving for a night in New York. Business purposes only. Of course.

With a new layer of exhausted emotions, Shea cradled her pearl rotary dial phone as she waited for Sasha to answer. Sasha would comfort her, she would forget about their silly tiff and see how much Shea appreciated her. The dial tone sounded continuously until the realisation hit Shea like a concrete brick. Sasha was ignoring her call. Slamming the handset down, Shea flung herself to the chaise lounge unable to face a night of frightful sleep.

Hours trickled one after the other and Shea drowned in a sense of inconsolable dread.  The one person she wanted, needed, to talk to right now was outright rejecting her. No one had ever rejected her before. Shea did not make allowances for moping behaviour. Not from anyone, especially herself. Sasha may be upset with her but Shea would be damned if she was going to let a petty row interfere with their relationship. Blustering with haste, she stormed down and out to her neighbour’s porch. Wrapped only in a silk gown that scarcely hid her lingerie, Shea pounded her fist against the door. A moment passed before Sasha’s lethargic face peered around the door. She was blank with no makeup and her hair was set in rags.

“Shea?”

“Why did you ignore my call?”

“Your…your call? Jesus, Shea, what time even is it?” Shea pursed her lips as Sasha’s drowsy features gazed up at her in confusion. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“I had to see you. To make it right.” Sasha tilted her head, yawning.

“Shea, this is…this is a lot.” The taller of the two women closed her hand around the smaller, holding it firmly.

“I know, I know I’m a lot to handle. I’m clingy person, I give too much of myself to the people I care about and it’s off putting. I know what I’m like, trust me. But…you…this friendship means too much to me. You’re the best thing about this wretched town; you should be in New York or Chicago or Paris living the life you always dreamed of for yourself, surrounded by fabulous people who appreciate you like I do.”

Sasha looked up at her dumbfounded. Shea prepared for the wave of rejection. “I know I impose my friendship too strongly and I’m sorry for not being the best friend I could have been to you. But I’m so grateful to have you in my life. I need you. I…you don’t even know, Sasha…”

The blood rose to Sasha’s cheeks at the declaration. Pulling Shea towards her with the hand that was locked in a vice grip, she slung her free arm over Shea’s shoulder to press against her. The embrace felt electric with emotion. Releasing hands, Shea crumbled under the touch and wrapped her arms around Sasha’s waist; their bodies meshing intimately.

“I love you too.” Mumbled Sasha. “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I just needed some space. This is pretty intense and I’ve never had a friendship like this before, you’re so…” Sasha swallowed, unsure of her words. “I just want you to be happy. Get out of that marriage, Shea, leave him and let yourself be happy. Be free. Go back to Chicago. Or…you could be with me. We can move to New York and do whatever we want. I care about you deeply – too much to let you carry on like this.”

Shea felt light headed. Dizzy with pure elation, she felt a new awakening inside her. She had never thought she’d live to see the day she’d consider giving up her fortune for anything, let alone for another person. Who could be that important? Whimpering, she heaved a sob into Sasha’s hair, the familiar faint scent of roses comforted her.

“I’m scared.” She confessed while Sasha rubbed circles into her back. “I’ll lose everything.”

“You’ll lose money.” Sasha corrected. “But what you’ll gain…you’ll have everything, Shea.” A gust of midnight wind caused a shiver to tremble between them. “You don’t even love him.” Sasha cried with sudden grievance. “You said so yourself – you don’t even love him.” She took a step back, eyeing Shea with begging eyes. “Please Shea…divorce your husband. Don’t let yourself live in misery.”

“I…” Shea trailed off, a panicked realisation shining in her eyes. “I want you…to be with you…Sasha…” Shea choked on her name, cupping her face in her palms desperately. Sasha held her wrists, her thumbs dancing in circles tenderly as their foreheads touched.

“Then leave him.” Sasha whispered, her eyes darting hungrily from dark eyes to full parted lips. Shea had never seen such a lustful expression from the woman. It made her body ache for contact, the force of her desire like a magnet. “Leave him and we can be together. Now…are you coming in or going back there?”

The invitation held such promise yet Shea could not but feel that her choice would finalise her fate. She bit her lip, uncertain of what implications her choice had. Sasha yawned.

“Either way, we both need to sleep. It’s been a long day.” The dark haired woman nodded, letting her hands fall from Sasha’s face as she was pulled in through the door. Sasha’s hold on her wrist continued as they ascended the staircase. No words passed between them as they entered the bedroom. Uncomfortably self-conscious, they glided under the sheets in darkness. Hands found one another and then, like a chain reaction, arms pushed and pulled greedily to enfold themselves together. Legs hooked around legs, brushing up and down, playing footsie.  

Shea felt Sasha’s breath on her face and inched close until their noses touched. Sasha sighed as they Eskimo kissed, tilting her face in blind search of Shea’s lips. She felt Shea gasp as she chastity pressed her lips to the corner of her mouth. Shea peppered kisses blindly along any skin she could feel, drunk on the euphoric sensation, stamping her lips down passionately. Finally, finally. Sasha shushed her, calming her, to ease her passion. The haste would have to subside, for now, but their exchange of kisses promised more. Finally, the two plummeted into an exhausted slumber, dread and hope for the days to come lingered in the air.

The next morning was cold. A grey drizzle set in. Shea lay with her head on Sasha’s chest enjoying the sensation of fingers caressing her scalp, twirling her hair.

“I’m going to tell him.” She muttered to herself. Sasha hummed, happily.

“I love it when you speak French.” She said, oblivious to the meaning of Shea’s declaration.

“I miss speaking it.” Shea confessed. “I had a rule that him and I, when we were alone, could only speak in French. I didn’t want to lose that part of myself.”

“That’s beautiful.” Sasha smiled. “I used to be perfectly fluent in Russian but I’ve never spoken it since moving away, so I’m terribly rusty.” Shea turned a surprised look up at her.

“You lived in Russia?”

“I am, in fact, Russian.” Sasha smiled widely. “Sasha is a Russian name but I chose Velour when I moved here because no one knew how to spell or speak my real surname.”

“Get out of town.” Shea rolled and sat up on her arms. “What brought you to the States?” Sasha’s eyes dimmed and she shrugged.

“I couldn’t be myself there. Expressing myself for who I am could have ended very…nastily.” Sighing, she gave a half-hearted smile. “I need to get up for work.”

-X-

The morning passed at a glacial pace. Sasha had not brought up the events of last night but before departing, she turned to Shea anxiously.

“Will I see you again tonight?” Shea had nodded vigorously.

“Most definitely.” She had loitered at the small den until one p.m., pacified by her surroundings and the smell of Sasha on every object yet she knew the fateful hour was approaching. Mr Couleé would be home at three. It was a Friday and so his schedule for the weekend never changed. Home by three,  straight to the decanter, back out to the bar by six.

Trudging along, Shea felt the weight of the judgemental stares by the house staff. She kept her head high, manner indifferent, as she stomped around the empty house. She stripped from her lingerie from the night before, choosing a simple rose toned dress and beret as her attire. Shea wondered if she should start packing her bags now so that she could make a swift exit after the conversation.

“So…you’re back, finally.” Shea’s stomach turned at the familiar voice. Spinning to face the direction of her husband, who stood blocking the bedroom door, Shea folded her arms.

“You noticed I was gone?” Mr Couleé glared, taking slow steps into the room.

“Actually I didn’t. But people have been talking.” A chill shot down Shea’s back. “People have been talking a lot about you, Shea. About you…and a woman.” A tense silence suffocated the room. “I cheated once and people talked. Now you’re doing exactly the same thing with a fucking woman and people are spreading gossip tenfold. Have you lost your goddamn mind?” His deep voice rose in a crescendo of fury. Shea stared him down, unblinking.

“Was it really that much of a shock to you?” She challenged.

“What could I have possibly done so offensively to you that you punish me with this?”

“Ha! Where do I even start? You’re rude, arrogant and have no respect for me or anyone around you. You fuck like a pig in the heat. Didn’t you ever feel my revulsion at your touch? I may have loved you once but you were no husband to me. Only a cheque book and you know it.” Eyes locked together, one in rage and the other in defiance. “I’m divorcing you.” The man burst into hard, sarcastic laugher.

“You’re not going to do that. You love my money too much. What will you do with yourself once you’re a penniless slapper dancing on tables again for change? Don’t forget where you came from before you met me, Shea.”

“I was rich on my own long before you.” Shea spat, her fingers clenched into fists and she stormed towards her husband. “You may have had more money but everyone knew I was the one settling for less in this farce of a marriage.”

“Who is it?” Couleé burned, his voice a vicious hiss. “It’s that woman next door, isn’t it? That poor pitiful plain mouse of a woman who lives in a shack. You’re going to leave all this to move into a derelict bungalow? Don’t make me laugh.” Shea gritted her teeth at the disgusted tone in his voice.

“Don’t you dare talk about her. She means more to me than you ever did. More than any of this.” Shea flung her arms to the room. “And I’m tired of living a lie. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Enjoy the rest of your life fucking everything that glances in your general direction.”

Shea made a rush for the door, abandoning any idea of packing. A forceful wrench against her arm prevented any further escape.

“I’m not done talking -”

“Let go of me!” Shea swung herself round, yanking her arm over and over trying to break away. Her arm ached with pain as the vice like hand tightened. They struggled strenuously for a few minutes, panic overwhelming, until Shea frantically struck the man; her ringed fingers cut into his face. This did not however extract herself from his grip. Shea shrieked in anger, wildly snatching at anything within her reach from the vanity at her right to beat Mr Couleé off her.

Time slowed and sped simultaneously until a low, pained grunt paired with a cumbersome thwack sounded swiftly and Shea watched with shock and horror as the man fell to the ground; his eyes rolling up his head like a doll. Frozen in her defensive stance above him, Shea stared blankly down at the lifeless body with a brutal gash to the crown of his head. Oh no. Leaning cautiously, Shea poked his neck, his head rolled and flopped to the side flaccidly. Oh fuck. Dropping what turned out to be her iron paperweight, Shea closed her shaking hands over her gaping mouth.

Thoughts bled into one another. What was she supposed to do now? Shea back away from the body, recoiling at a fly that landed on a bloody cheek. She turned to the door, gradually making her way over and shut it quietly. The lock flipped. Shea eyed the body wearily, nauseous, wondering if the smell emitting from it was real or her imagination. Staggering over to the phone by her bedside,  Shea’s hands trembled pathetically as she dialled the one person she could think of who could help her. Lipstick City.

“Annyeonghaseyo?” The Korean voice warbled.

“Kim,” Shea sighed. “I need your help.”

“Who?”

“Bitch you know me, it’s Shea.”

“Ah, Miss Shea. More man trouble?” Shea’s eyes fell shut and she massaged her temple.

“You could say that. I’m…I’m gonna need the full clean and polish. With removal. Outside New York, do you have any…connections this far out?” There was a muffled shifting on the line and Shea swallowed, her mouth so dry her throat felt like sandpaper.

“Consider it done.”

-X-

Sasha couldn’t concentrate. The day dragged and all she itched to do was run home and see Shea. She wondered what Mr Couleé was like, what the dynamic was between them in that grand house. Sasha had lived in that neighbourhood for almost two years and prior to Shea, she could not recall it ever being occupied.

Stepping off the train, Sasha began the trek home with her canvas and satchel filled with papers and brushes and random sketches she had doodled from boredom. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could see Shea; the thought made her trot along in her heels double time. Eventually turning her street corner, her light eyes focused on a large van outside Maison du Couleé and Sasha frowned as a lone unrecognisable figure struggled into view dragging a large plastic disposable bag. She watched as a woman, wearing a jumpsuit with the words T. Rex Disposals, struggled to fling the opaque sack into the boot of the van.

Lingering at her porch, pretending to look for her keys, Sasha spied at the woman muttering to herself whilst she battled against the weight of the bag. Sasha noted that it vaguely resembled something out of a morgue.

“Need any help there?” She called and the woman jolted, snapping her head at the sound of her voice.

“I’m good, thanks.” She huffed.  “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Suit yourself.” Sasha unfastened her door. “Looks like a body bag.” T. Rex laughed.

“It is.” she winked and Sasha smiled, leaving the strange individual to their work.

The artist had hoped that Shea would be waiting in her living room to greet her again but, alas, no such luck. It was already almost seven o’clock, the light was fading fast into the ether and Sasha wondered when Shea planned to make an appearance like she had promised. 

Glancing at the clock, Sasha hummed as she decided to pass the time painting. Setting up a blank canvas, she lay all of her paints on a small table to her side that was home to a framed photo of Shea and herself  from their impromptu shoot. In the picture the two stood facing each other with their smiling faces to the camera and their arms outstretched as if they were posing for a dance.

When Sasha had the photos developed, she had delighted as Shea fawned over them declaring every one to be her favourite. The model had clutched the few of her and Sasha together to her bosom, the rest scattered in abandonment on Sasha’s bed.

“We look amazing together.” She had cried, overjoyed. Sasha peeled one away from her, looking over it in admiration.

“You look so beautiful.” Shea blushed, flustered, flinging her hair behind her shoulder.

“Of course, I do.” Caressing a finger over Sasha’s face in the picture, she gazed from the paper to the young woman in front of her. “You look so…sexy.”

“Sexy?” Sasha had cried in bemusement. She laughed awkwardly in embarrassment and flipped the photo over. “I wouldn’t ever call myself that.”

“I mean it,” Shea pushed, frowning. “You’re a very sexy person, ma chérie. You should feel it.”

Shea always had a way to make Sasha feel exactly how she told her to. The consistent throwaway comments about how attractive Shea found her, though Sasha presumed most of the time they were said in jest, did make the artist feel more emboldened. She was not too proud to say she appreciated validation, especially from someone as dazzling as Shea. Not only that but the smitten looks she caught thrown her way when Shea thought she wasn’t paying attention made Sasha feel rooted in her affection towards the Parisian. For how couldn’t Sasha love someone that wanted her to love herself?

The phone began to shrill. Pausing her stroke, Sasha tucked the paint brush behind her ear as she ran to the hall outside the studio.

“Hello?”

“Bonsoir ma chérie…you sound so breathless.” Sasha laughed airily, wrapping her fingers around the cord.

“I didn’t want to miss the call in case it was you.” She admitted. There was a moment of silence and Sasha wondered if the call had disconnected.

“Can you come over? Now?” Shea pleaded. “I need to see you.” Sasha’s eyebrows rose.

“You’re not coming over here?” She had yet to be invited into Shea’s house but by the off tone in her friend’s voice, she could not help but feel apprehensive at the request.

“No. I need you here.”

“Shea, what’s wrong?”

“Just come over, please Sasha.” The young woman swallowed, her mind racing. Shea needed her help.

“I’m coming.” Dropping the phone to the cradle, Sasha discarded her overalls and the brush in her ear with cold nervous hands. After locking up and letting herself into the neighbouring building, Shea had once mentioned that the front door was never locked with so many staff constantly on duty, Sasha called out to the vast dark stairwell.

Shea had appeared, the vision of a dark queen clad in a black ostrich feathered dressing gown, descending the staircase halfway before she was met by Sasha. The blonde had run up two by two to reach her. Cupping her angular chin, Shea pecked Sasha’s cheeks in their old style routine but it felt slower and more sensual, her lips hovered over the skin. Sasha stared at her unabashed.

“I told my husband I’m divorcing him.” Sasha gasped, her mouth falling into a pretty “o”; Shea wondered what it’d feel like to have Sasha suck on her fingers.

“Shea…I’m so proud of you. What happened? Are you okay? Where…where is he?” Linking her arm through Sasha’s, Shea walked them back up the stairs and into the shadowed corridor towards her bedroom. She felt rigid, frozen with the events of today and tried to supress the memories of when jopok leader Kim Chi’s so-called connection arrived.

“He’s gone.” She simply said, staring ahead; her eyes were removed from the present and looked haunted into the past. Sasha detected her distant countenance and a pang of worry twisted in her stomach.

“Did he hurt you?” Sasha turned her gaze from her oddly behaving friend to take in her bed chamber for the fist time. The high ceiling with ornate borders and long velvet drapes that hung around an imperial four poster bed left her in awe and intimidated by such grandeur. Shea manoeuvred them so that they perched on the edge of the mattress.

“Non, chérie,” Shea shook her head, eyes glued to the oriental rug. Their arms remained linked and taking a deep breath, Shea’s hand clutched Sasha’s. “I’m going to be leaving soon too. I’m going back to Chicago.”

Shea could not bring herself to face Sasha’s reaction. She felt her heart rupture into pain at the thought of leaving her friend but what choice did she have? She could not risk Sasha being caught up in any of the fallout if her husband’s body were to be discovered. At the very least the missing persons case for the next few months would be hell. No, it was decided. Shea refused to subject Sasha to the agony and speculation of a murder case she had no part in.

“If that’s what you want.” The thick emotion in Sasha’s voice stabbed venomously into Shea. “Like I said, you have everything there. You’ll finally be happy.” The stillness between them was suffocating. “How soon are you leaving?” Shea winced at the dreaded the question.

“Honestly, I’m thinking of leaving either tomorrow or the day after. It depends.”

“On what?” Shea could read through the seemingly calm tone in Sasha’s low voice and felt her resolve disintegrating when Sasha stood suddenly, splitting away from her. She took a few unsure steps forward, her face down and hidden. “What does it depend on, Shea?” Shea reached for her but the blonde shrank away, recoiling.

“Sasha –”

“Don’t do that.” Sasha snapped, turning to face the distressed woman. “Don’t say my name as if I’m the one hurting you.” Shea blinked, her eyes bore into the pale face, cold with rue. “I thought we had…I was clearly mistaken.” Sasha’s curt words were marred with a tremble and Shea stood as if she’d been struck by lightening, too weak to endure more suffering and unable to drag Sasha through the same. She never believed she should deprive herself of what she wanted, especially if it was ripe for the taking before her eyes.

Sasha had startled at the sudden movement, retreating further but Shea powered towards her until Sasha felt her back press into the vanity. She bit her lip as Shea caressed her hand across her hollow cheek, brushing her frizzed curls away from her face.

“It depends on you.” Shea finally murmured. “It isn’t fair to make you leave but I can’t be without you.”

“You knew I was willing to go with you.” Sasha spoke softly, eyes guarded. “We just never had the conversation about the logistics if the day were to come. You’re deciding for me now that it’s better to leave me behind.” Shea curled her fingers around Sasha’s jaw, torn between what she knew she should do and what she most desperately wanted.

“I want to protect you.” She admitted, her voice hoarse with strain. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“And you think by leaving I’ll be fine? I don’t know if you know, Shea, but I’ve been looking after myself perfectly long before you.” She glared defiantly at the woman how was rubbing circles into her cheek. “Why are you leaving so fast? What are you running away from?” Shea felt the words form in her mouth but forced them back. Sasha huffed, frustrated at the lack on explanation. “You can’t just force yourself into people’s lives, make them love you and then leave without a care.” She cried, yanking Shea’s hand away. “It’s not right, Shea.” Skirting past the other woman, Sasha freed herself, making a beeline for the door.

Shea knew she couldn’t live with herself if she let Sasha leave like this. She had uprooted her life, made her truly feel reborn and in tune as to what real love was, Sasha had changed her. She had left her husband for her. And it was too significant a shift to survive alone.

“He’s dead.” The words shattered Shea’s control and she dropped to her knees. “Sasha don’t leave…Oh god, what have I done?” Sasha remained a statue, her eyes wide with confusion and fear.

“What?” She asked dumbly. Shea clutched at the jewels decorating her neck, hyperventilating. Reaching, her arms outstretched towards the pale woman, Shea collapsed against her friend as Sasha hastily returned.

“It was an accident. He grabbed me – he was so mad – and he wouldn’t let go. Look at my bruises, I was so scared –” Her words tumbled incoherently and although no tears fell, her distress drilled an ache in Sasha. Kneeling, the blonde woman held her friend to her chest tightly as she attempted to decipher what had happened.

“Where is he?” Her throat constricted when Shea nuzzled into Sasha’s neck, her arms snaking around her waist, pulling her gently against her body.

“I rang an old friend who has connections in Lipstick City. They…disposed of him. I don’t know where.” The reel of questions Sasha suddenly had left her overwhelmed. Her arms dropped like heavy weights to her sides. She thought back to earlier that day. T. Rex Disposals.

“Holy fuck, Shea.” Bringing their faces level, Shea stared into Sasha’s horrified orbs. Cupping her waxen face, she brushed her lips across Sasha’s rose painted pout.

“I didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. I couldn’t call the police. With lots of money comes lots of connections.” She whispered, begging for Sasha to understand. “But…you helped me realise who I am. I don’t need all that money. I was leaving him. For me. For you. I want you in my life, in my world, to look after and love and be free with. I want to have a part in your life, you make me feel so…high. So happy.” 

Sasha’s eyes were wide like a doe. Her head was swimming overpowered by emotion than her own rationality. No one had ever spoken to her with such admiration and wonder. How had someone like Shea fallen into Sasha’s world? An answer she would never receive yet that did not dampen her gratitude that Shea had found her.

“Shea…you killed someone.” The accused woman did not react but her eyes gave away her unease.

“I did.” She swallowed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“It’s probably best you should.” Shea nodded slowly, her dark eyes bore into Sasha’s, unconvinced of her friend’s wishes.

“I understand completely.”  Shea’s hands fell from Sasha’s face to her waist. “Kiss me goodbye?”

The blonde nodded, her blue eyes glued to Shea’s lips. The dark haired model tightened her grip on the slender hips, pulling them against her as she threw herself into a passionate kiss. Sasha was putty beneath her touch, submitting herself to the fervour and fury of Shea’s embrace. She felt awakened, as if she had found release from a surreal mundane existence. There was no nine to five job to barely make ends meat, there was no playground politics with middle aged suburban house wives, there was only Shea. Two souls. Intertwined by their loneliness and love. A shared connection of understanding and acceptance beyond the material world. Come what may, Sasha couldn’t lose this.

“Don’t leave me.” Sasha felt breathless. “Don’t go and run away without me.” Shea’s eyes burned with a raw intensity that left Sasha’s cheeks burning and feeling aroused. “We’ll work it out together. Let me help –” Her words were stolen as soft lips fused against her own. She gave a hopeless whimper, bringing her arms around Shea’s shoulders, pulling the woman closer to her. Shea was forceful, domineering, in her movements as she slid her craving hands over Sasha’s hips and grasped at her behind, squeezing. Gliding the zip of her pencil skirt southward, Shea’s hands invaded beneath the fabric and she tugged Sasha’s shirt out, skimming her fingers underneath and up her back.

Sasha broke the kiss, her eyes hooded with titillation and kicked off her shoes. Shea watched the ruffled up woman with adoration. Rising, she held a hand to pull Sasha up so that she could push the skirt further down until it landed unceremoniously in a heap on the carpet. The two women stood mirroring one another. Shea let her extravagant dressing gown fall down her shoulders and hit the floor, leaving her in black satin lingerie. Sasha’s eyes trailed over the clear, smooth skin of her chest, her slender muscular arms, her toned stomach – art could not come close to what Shea was.

“Take this off.” Shea commanded, unbuttoning the top of Sasha’s shirt. Sasha complied, her fingers worked with urgency at the base of the shirt, meeting Shea’s hands halfway. Shea pealed the shirt away, her eyes raking over Sasha’s pale slender body zealously. “You’re so beautiful.” She marvelled, her hands wandering over the edge of her sheer bra, sliding it away. Sasha blushed at her own nakedness, her lithe fingers ran through Shea’s hair as she tilted her head to kiss. Lips melded and massaged one another until Shea ran her tongue across Sasha’s bottom lip. Sasha’s lips tingled at the sensation, red lipstick smudged, and parted to allow Shea complete admission.

Tongues danced around, flicking and teasing, accompanied only by soft moans. The quiet enthralled Sasha, the only sound to focus upon was her lover’s pleasure and she could not think of anything more erotic than Shea. The taller woman pulled Sasha over the bed, pushing her onto the soft covers and wrapped her long legs either side of the blonde’s smooth white thighs. Shea unclasped her own bra before discarding it without a care, her eyes fixed on Sasha’s. Pressing a deep kiss into her neck, Shea murmured in French. Sasha’s eyes fluttered at the sound despite her stomach knotting with nerves.

“Shea…it’s – it’s been a while since…” She trailed off, flustered but Shea cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at her heated stare.

“Shh, baby, don’t worry. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” She whispered, burying a wet kiss to her parted lips. The two moved with a fervent passion, arms roamed and groped, hips ground together. Sasha’s toes curled at the feel of Shea’s own breasts against her body. Shea hooked Sasha’s thigh over her waist, her hand ripping the thigh high stocking away. Gazing down at her, all Shea saw was beauty and artistry in her pink panting face and her milky white petite breasts; every facet of Sasha’s being was perfection. “How has no one snatched you up, yet?” She sighed. “How am I this lucky? I can’t let you go.” Shea cupped Sasha’s breast, her thumb padding at her nipple and the fruitful response of a gentle cry made her mouth dry.

Skilled fingers were replaced by a warm tongue, confidently flicking and rolling into Sasha as she moaned and arched into the erogenous woman above her. Shea pinned Sasha’s arms to the mattress, their fingers intertwined, possessing full command. Nips and sucks turned into languid kisses that trailed fluidly down Sasha’s ribs and abdomen until Shea reached the cup of her pelvis. Her hands slid down over the rises and falls of Sasha’s body until they came to pause at the curve of her hips, hooking into the elastic of her pants.

“Please, Shea.” Sasha breathed, her eyes closed with her own hands reaching to push off the last article of clothing with urgency. ���Please, please.” Shea grinned at the sound of Sasha begging over her name. Discarding the obstructing fabric, Shea sighed in ravenous satisfaction as she gaped between Sasha’s legs. She spread Sasha’s thighs further apart, throwing them over her shoulders like a stoal, then let one hand dive in impatiently whilst the other wrapped around Sasha’s leg, holding her in place.

Shea’s long fingers stroked softly along the curb of her labia repetitively, slipping between the lips to tease and elicit the small out of breath noises that drove her crazy. Sasha’s thighs clenched and jerked sporadically, toes curled and feet arched, her hands twisted in the sheet beneath her. Dragging her fingers up between the wetness, Shea looped her finger under the hood reaching the pearly reward. The blissful noises that erupted from Sasha, quiet and soft but oh so intoxicating to Shea’s ears,  overflowed with ecstasy.

Shea nibbled kisses into Sasha’s taut inner thigh, resisting her gluttonous desire to rush too soon. As she neared closer and closer to where her fingers currently played on the woman underneath her, Shea felt glanced up at her lover and studied her face that was contorted from the overwhelming pleasure. Sasha’s mouth hung open, her dark brows pulled together and her skin glowed with dew from the heated affair.

“Look at me.” Shea felt powerful, in command over the beautiful woman writhing at her every whim. Shea waited until she had Sasha’s full attention; her eyes were dazed with desperation. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” Her fingers sped up their rhythmic motion, rubbing against her clitoris in a forceful manner. Sasha mewled, the red on her cheeks intensifying. “I’ve wanted to feel you around my fingers just like this, squeezing until I make you cum, I want to hear you as I give you everything.” Sasha’s head rolled back as her body convulsed and tremored, reaching the heights of her pleasure.

Dipping back down hastily, Shea lapped her tongue wildly against the velvet skin tasting Sasha’s centre. Spurred on by the endless stream of moaning, Shea bobbed her head enthusiastically, her eyes closed, lost in the moment. She controlled the rocking motion of Sasha’s hips that thrust for release and hummed. The swirling of her tongue was matched with the sound of her name falling like a prayer from Sasha’s lips. Soon the lymphatic tones turned staccato and Shea doubled her efforts to bring Sasha completion.  When the tension flooded from her trembling thighs and all that remained was the resonating sound of  exhausted pants, Sasha reached for the woman between her legs, burying her fingers in her soft hair.

Shea peered up at her, smiling in cocky triumph and pressed a small kiss to her thigh.

“Come here.” Sasha cooed. Her body lay unresponsive and quaking upon the soft mattress, worn to the bone. Shea crawled atop of her and Sasha cupped her cheek as they kissed; the taste of her climax passed between them.

“Ma chérie,” Shea murmured, skimming her nose over Sasha’s cheek as they stared into one another. “Je t’aime.” Tipping her forehead to rest against the pale sweaty skin beneath her, Shea closed her eyes, focusing on the pulsating beating of the body below her. “Je t’aime.”

The exchange of sweet chaste pecks cooled the air around them. Shea curled her arm around Sasha’s head, supporting herself as she stretched above her to brush the rogue strands of blonde hair that had plastered themselves to her temple. Sasha caressed her fingers up and down Shea’s toned arms. No words were needed to express the emotions rife between them.

“I’m so hot for you.” Shea admitted softly, shifting her hips to stir friction between their tangled legs. Sasha giggled, making noises of satisfaction as she joined the movement. Sitting up suddenly, Shea fixed Sasha’s thigh over her hip, slotting herself between her legs. She rubbed vigorously up against Sasha’s pelvis, scissoring. The grind of her hips shot waves of aching stimulation up her spine. Throwing her head back in bliss, Shea felt overwhelmingly alive and in tune with her surroundings. The feeling of Sasha underneath her, the sounds echoing around them, the heat radiating from their skin…she was completely enveloped in the experience. There was nothing else in the world she wanted more than to do this, be this, for the rest of her life. They fit together like the two halves of an oyster-shell. Shea was Narcissus, embracing the pond in which she was about to drown. 

Tipping over into her own orgasmic state, Shea twirled over to lay next to her lover; she encompassed her arms around the smaller pale body, guiding Sasha to lie plush against her.

“What are we going to do?” Sasha sighed, her face turned in to Shea’s shoulder.

“We do nothing.” Shea replied, catching her breath. “Nothing that isn’t expected of us.”

“We’re going to look suspicious, Shea.” Sasha forced. “If we’re to be openly together people will talk.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“But- ”

“When I see you,” Shea interrupted. “it’s like - I don’t know what it’s like. It’s like I’ve never seen anything at all before. I’ve looked at women before you and they are like nothing - they’re like dust. But then you walked in for the first time on my porch – I thought…you were so pretty and your suit was so nice and your voice was so sweet.” Sasha was staring up at her stupefied now but Shea continued. “You make me want to smile and weep, at once. You makes me sore, here.” Shea placed a hand on her chest, upon the breast-bone. “I’ve never met a woman like you before. I never knew that there were women like you…” Her smooth voice became a trembling whisper then, and Shea found that she could say no more. There was another silence. “Come what may, I am not hiding this, I am not going to go without you anymore.”

Sasha’s face filled with emotion. Without a word she lay back down, resuming her hold on Shea as the two drifted off into an uncertain sleep. The next morning the police arrived to break the news to Mrs Couleé that her husband’s body had been found washed up in a lake. The remains of the man had been wrapped in a body bag with a half snapped cord, which had obviously been trying to keep the body from floating away. A most disturbing accident that Mrs Couleé was sure to have no knowledge of. Sasha’s face has drained of blood as she stood next to Shea; the widow had feigned tears, falling to the ground with a wail. The police still needed her to come in for questioning. That demand extended to a waxen faced Sasha.

The two women dressed in silence. A sombre tension loomed. Shea felt an inner peace she had not known for years calm her nerves. She watched the blonde, poor innocent beautiful Sasha, dress in her clothes from the previous day.  There was no time to be spared for any glamour. Sasha caught her eye and gave her a meaningful stare. As they found themselves escorted into the police cars, Shea focused on the day this ordeal would be over. She would be wearing Chanel No. 5, draped in her Cartier Paris Nouvelle Vague necklace. Sasha Velour, the quirky artistic woman who smelled of home grown roses, would be by her side. And all would be right in the world once more.

Fin.

[evanstandefensesquad-blog]

Paper Moon Part 15

MB - @thecountessakasha - back again. I hope you’re ready for Part 15! There’s no smut, it’s literally all fluff, so apologies in advance.

I’m going to tag a couple people who I’ve told about this and my really special love who keeps betaing this for me @evansscruff - thank you, darling.

A/N: Bucky and Steve end up at a venue that has a 40s night and meet an OFC, Melissa Rose, a singer in a local club. They both are smitten by her, and start to vie for her affections. They end up finding out more about themselves in the process.

This honestly started out as maybe a one shot but as I got going, I decided it’ll be chapters. How many? No frigging idea. This is my absolute first time writing a fic of any sort and yes I did base the OFC on myself. I hope y'all enjoy.

Word count: 3300+ because I am a wordy bitch.

Warnings: FLUFF to the Goddamn max. Gonna rot your teeth. Oh, and cussing. Like always.

STEVE’S POV

To say that the past few months were rough would be an understatement. Word got out about Bucky and me; and that, of course, led to word getting out about Melissa, Bucky, and me. It was strange; there was almost no animosity aimed at him and me, but just as she predicted, there was plenty aimed at her. People had taken to the Internet and the airwaves to voice their opinion of the “old” woman whom they decided was “ruining Steve and Bucky’s happiness” by “insinuating herself” between us.

Hate mail piled up at the club for her. She quit checking it altogether. Bucky would always gather the multitude of envelopes and go through them to sort out what was important and what was trash. Let me tell ya, her recycling bin has been packed full.

People would pop up at her shows to heckle and ridicule her. Finally, the owner raised the ticket prices and added extra bouncers which helped. Though on the plus side, more people came to actually see her perform. She wowed every single one of them. There were rumors of other places looking to steal her away, but she had vowed to never abandon Club Onyx. Or the owner. He’d been far too good to her and she appreciated it more than he would ever know.

The fact that she’s stuck with us is astonishing to me. And every day I fall deeper because of it. She’s so much stronger than she thinks. Not to say there haven’t been some rough patches. Her depression took over, and at times we couldn’t even get her to speak. There were days upon days when she just refused to get out of bed. Pretty sure she’s upped her rum intake. Even now she’s rarely, if ever, seen outside of the club without Bucky unless it’s to come to the tower. But for the most part we’ve really weathered the storm.

I think the biggest change has been with Bucky. He’s no longer chomping at the bit to take every mission he can get his hands on, trying to keep his mind on anything other than his life. He’s actually been turning down those offered to stay with Melissa during this tumultuous beginning.

For the first time since coming back from Wakanda, the light has truly returned to his eyes. And it’s her. Well, I mean it’s probably me, too. Us. But I really think it’s Melissa more than anything. She’s changed him. Made him more comfortable in his skin. Shown him that there’s more to “Bucky” than just “The Winter Soldier”.

He’s taken to staying at her place more and more. So have I, just not quite as often. It’s not like I get as many opportunities to turn down missions as he does. Part of the mantle of being Captain America, as Natasha is fond of reminding me.

I spend every moment I can with the both of them. Usually at her place. Not because we’re unwelcome at the tower. Far from it. Everyone would like it if we came around more often. They all really like Melissa. Especially Nat, Wanda, Clint, and Sam.

She finally got to meet Thor and was practically gushing about it. She couldn’t stop asking him questions about Asgard, what it’s really like there. She knew all the myths, of course. And how often do you get to meet a god? He in turn, is quite taken with her. Much to Bucky’s dismay.

It’s amazing the effect she has on people. She puts it off as the “southern thing”. Like she’s a novelty. As if that’s the only reason everyone here just adores her. That’s a piece of it, sure, but not all. She’s simply … captivating.

The night after Melissa first came to the tower, we had everyone out to the club to see her perform. Her nerves were on edge all day long.Because of that Bucky and I tried everything we could to keep her calm. She ended up going for a walk, alone, to clear her head. She puts so much pressure on herself.

A good bit of time had passed but Melissa still hadn’t made it back. I was starting to get really worried. Bucky suggested that I head back to the tower to make sure everyone was ready for the evening and that he’d go look for her.

He found her instantly, of course. She’d gone to a little park she discovered one of her first days in New York. It’s a place she and Bucky like to go when they need quiet and anonymity. They’ll put on hoodies and sunglasses and do their best to hide from the world and just sit in the middle of the park, right on the grass. Most times, they don’t even speak. They just exist there in that moment.

Bucky had gathered her up and walked her back to the apartment. The night went off without a hitch and the club received a boost of publicity due to our attendance.

I’ve noticed a change in myself as well. I’m sure Bucky and the others have seen it. I’m not as reckless. That’s the main thing. The idea of not coming back to the two people I love more than anything in this world is a very sobering thought indeed. The mere notion that I would irrevocably hurt them by not returning from a mission is too much to bare.

There are selfish reasons, too. To never be able to look into her dazzling green eyes again, or his shimmering blue ones cuts me to the core. That I wouldn’t be able to touch them, to see them smile, hear their laughter, or the noises they make in the heat of passion is like a stab in the gut.

My world revolves around them. Melissa and Bucky. My twin dark muses. Mes deux muses sombre, as she would say. They hold my heart in their hands. I am nothing without them and I strive every day to show them what they mean to me.

It’s to that end that I’ve decided to surprise them with some gifts. The first one is a simple thing; a sketchbook full of little drawings of the two of them doing mundane activities. Some are individual. Snippets of our everyday lives. Melissa lying in the middle of the living room floor, sheet music strewn around her, forgotten as she buries her nose in some book about Irish peat farmers. Bucky draped across the sofa, headphones on, feet kicking away to the beat of a “new to him” song that she’d turned him on to.

Some are of them together. Bucky is sitting crossed legged on the floor with his back against the overstuffed recliner while Melissa’s legs and arms are wrapped around him as she’s perched in the chair. His head tilted and resting against her thigh as they binge watch House of Cards, discussing what they’d like to do with Claire and Francis. The pair of them in the little kitchen, dancing and singing while they cook dinner for the three of us.

Once I snuck up on them in their little park and sketched them there, laying back on the grass, hoodies and sunglasses on. I watched their chests rise and fall with their breathing, wondering what they’d talked about, what they had been thinking about. Melissa was unaware of my presence, but I’m sure Bucky knew. You can’t fool the super soldier senses, after all.

The other gift is much, much bigger. It’s really a gift for the three of us. I’ve purchased an old brownstone in Brooklyn and am having it renovated into a single dwelling. This dual residence life is wearing on us. We need our own place, private, away from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan and the tower. Melissa needs to be able to detach herself from the club. She’s finally gotten the hang of the subway, so I feel confident she’ll be fine with the move. As for Bucky, he’ll be over the moon. He’s been wanting to move back home. And now I can give that to him.

Tony has decided to throw me a big birthday bash this weekend, so I’m going make the announcement then. Probably doesn’t make much sense for me to be giving gifts on my own birthday, but like I said, this is for all of us.

I can’t wait to see their faces.

BUCKY’S POV

I feel like the luckiest man alive. How I ever was good enough to deserve the pair of them, I’ll never understand. Steve, all the hell he went through to bring me back. He fought the world for me. Not many people can say that about their lover. I am his forever.

And Melissa. My beloved Angel. Her love has forged me into the man I am. The one I was meant to be. The longer I’m with her the harder I fall. She believes in me. I cannot explain what that means, how that affects every action I take.

I’ve been spending more and more time with her, staying at her place. I should really just move in with her. She’s suggested it several times and each time I brush it off; I feel like I’m imposing. But I feel far more comfortable at her apartment than I do at the tower. There I feel like a visitor. Not a true part of the team. At her place, it feels like home. Especially when Steve’s able to stay with us.

Melissa and I like to take care of Steve when he’s around. The missions wear him down so we do our best to help him relax when he’s home with us. It feels good to care for him again, like I used to when we were young.

One of my favorite parts about spending so much time with her is having someone to just be with. We go for walks, we do the shopping, we take in movies, we cook meals, we explore the city. She does try to keep herself incognito, because of everything. I dare someone to try something while I’m around. It’s mundane and domestic and I fucking love every second of it.

No missions, no emergencies. Because of her I feel like a normal person. I’ve even been more comfortable about showing my arm in public. Melissa’s not afraid of it and she always, always makes sure that’s the hand she holds.

She sees herself as undeserving of both Steve and me. Especially after all the shit we’ve been through recently; she feels like it’s all her fault. Oh, but she’s wrong. So very wrong. She deserves the goddamn world on a silver platter. And I aim to give it to her.

I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out a way to show her what she means to me. How she’s helped me, how deeply I’ve fallen for her.

Pieces of my life from before have been coming back periodically, and something I’ve discovered recently is that I can play piano. Not only can I play, I’m actually quite good. I’ve been sneaking downstairs to the club while it’s closed with handfuls of her sheet music to practice. Steve has caught me a few times. He must forget that he can’t sneak up on me. He’s never interrupted or bothered me, merely observes, more than likely sketching.

There’s a point to all this. I have quite the surprise for her. I want to play for her, with her. I can’t sing for shit, but I don’t need to. It’s her voice everyone wants. She’s the real star. I just want to be a part of it, to back her up, support her. And it calms me, I really enjoy it.

I’ve been working on one song in particular. I’m going to spring it on her at Steve’s party. By chance I heard her singing it in the shower one morning. She likes to practice there; the acoustics are phenomenal. The piece makes use of her smokey, lower vocals. Mmmm, her voice is like Tupelo honey. I am awestruck every time I’m blessed to hear it. The lyrics themselves, well let’s just say I can picture her saying these things to me and Steve.

I’ve got something for Steve too, of course. It’s hard to think of things to give him, the man who sacrificed everything he had, everything he was, to save me. But I know what makes him happy, what centers him. Anything art related. Anything.

So, with the help of Tony and Natalia, I was able to get a private tour of the Museum of Modern Art for Steve, Melissa, and myself. The card with all the arrangements will be hidden in a whole shitload of art supplies Melissa and I bought for his upcoming birthday.

And well, since we can’t resist, Steve and I have also conspired to give her a gift from the both of us. One we know she’ll appreciate more than anyone else probably ever would. We’re going to give her each one of our dog tags to wear. The originals. We … acquired them from the Smithsonian. Like they would refuse Captain America anything.

If it seems overly sentimental and nostalgic, well, tough shit. I think Steve and I have earned that right. Melissa will understand the significance. She’s a military brat coming from a long line of veterans stretching all the way back to the Revolutionary War. She gets it and I honestly don’t care if anyone else does. Just thinking of her wearing them makes me heart soar.

I love discovering little things about her. I love how she leads me to rediscover things about myself. I love watching her and Steve together, even if it’s just them doing something as simple as lounging together on the floor, books on history surrounding them as they pour over the words. Their heated discussions will go on for hours; I learn more from listening to them than I ever would reading on my own.

The way she looks at him when she doesn’t think anyone is watching her. Him doing the same. The way she’ll sit still, posing for hours on end for him while he draws or paints her. Most times it ends up with her teasing him mercilessly until he drops his tools and quiets her with passionate kisses.

And oh the way we all seamlessly flow into one another in the bedroom. Sometimes with heated, fiery, gnawing need. Sometimes with giggles and laughter until we can’t take it anymore. It has never felt so natural, so right.

I love these idiots more than I could ever express. I would be lost without them.

MELISSA’S POV

My boys, my beloved boys.

I can’t believe they’re mine. I can’t believe they’re still with me after six months of insanity. Six months of all the hate and worry and stress. I can’t believe Bucky has given up missions to stay by my side. I can’t believe Steve continually professes his love for me. I can’t believe they put up with all my baggage. My anxiety, my depression, my health issues.

Without even realizing it, I have fallen head over heels in love with them. Happiness, something that has always been elusive in my life, is now a constant. Which of course leads to the occasional panic attack, since my brain can’t wrap itself around the notion that I deserve this happiness and likes to construct various scenarios where I lose one or the both of them. Either on a mission or from them simply growing tired of me and leaving.

Nightmares haunt me every now and then, my fears manifesting themselves in my subconscious. I’ll thrash and sweat and full on cry until Bucky finally wakes me. He’ll hold me tightly to him as he waits for me to calm down, all the while whispering to me how he’s here, he’s real, he’s not going anywhere, how much he loves me.

One such incident happened when both Steve and Bucky were home. It must have been a particularly powerful one as it nearly sent Steve into a panic before Bucky explained what was happening and showed him how to deal with it. It took the both of them to bring me back around that night.

Bucky puts up with my shit every time we leave the apartment. Hiding myself under hoodies and sunglasses and baggy clothes. He understands. He was at that point himself not long ago. God, he takes such good care of me; he always makes sure I’m comfortable with it all, that I feel safe, loved.

And the way Steve dotes on me, I’ve never had someone so attentive to my each and every desire. Sometimes before I even know what they are. He has a knack for knowing exact what I need when I need it.

Things like that. Dealing with me on days where I couldn’t even function inside my depression. Nights when my anxiety was so high I would just drink myself into a stupor and couldn’t even perform.

And through it all they’re still committed to me. Because of that I’ve taken on my own mission. To keep them happy any way I can. To give in to every whim or wish they might ever have. If it’s in my capacity to do, then it’s done. Period. No questions asked.

These two, I know they have something up their sleeves. They may be super soldiers but they’re shit at keeping secrets. Something fishy’s going on. And Nat! Oh my god, she’s been teasing me to no end about something she knows that I don’t.

She and I have become quite close. Oh, she is fiercely protective of me, too. I adore her. And Wanda and Sam and Clint. They’ve been so, so great to me. The other members of the team have as well, but these guys. Well, let’s just say they’re by far my closest friends here in the city.

I’ve got news for my two big boys. They’re not the only ones who can be sneaky. I’ve got something up MY sleeve. With Steve’s birthday party coming up, I’ll make some time before we leave to give them their presents. I want it to be special, something just between the three of us.

Of course Bucky and I went overboard on our joint gift. We have a tendency to indulge Steve quite often. I’m not sure all the art supplies we bought are even going to fit into the area we’ve cleared out in the living room for his makeshift studio. Oh well. I’m sure he’ll deal just fine. I can’t wait till he sees what we’ve done.

As for my gifts to the pair of them, I hope they’re comfortable wearing jewelry. I didn’t get anything fancy, or gaudy. That’s just not our style. With that thought in mind, I’ve I found a pair of matching stainless steel cuffs. They’re small, like a little bracelet, but you attach them with screws. And I hold the screwdriver.

On the inside of Steve’s I’ve had engraved Mon Soleil. Bucky’s sports Ma Lune. My Sun and My Moon. My two very large, powerful, all consuming forces.

The light and the dark.

Watching them together is one of my major addictions. I love catching each of them looking at the other. It’s like they have a silent language. They’re always in sync. Whether it’s cleaning the apartment, binge watching a show, or when we’re in the bedroom. It’s like they have one mind.

They speak often of having claimed me. Getting me before anyone else could. Snatching me off the market. As if I was even on the damn market to begin with. It always makes me laugh and shake my head. But, if they’ve claimed me then I’ve done the same to them. They’re mine and I will defend that claim all the rest of my days.

I’m with them to the end of the line.

Tagging:

@alievans007 @buckysbackpackbuckle @justareader @anice-1 @hardcollectiontrashworld @always-an-evans-addict @mewsiex

Thanks everyone!

[bliphany]

Fanfiction Rec Day - Whouffaldi

Whouffaldi fics means a lot to me not only because they were the reason I started to read stories written in English, but also because many of they helped me through all the angst of Doctor Who series 9. Clara and the Doctor’s last era wouldn’t be the same to me, if I hadn’t had their company.

Here are some stories that will remain in my memory and even Time Lord's device won't change that. I chose to include some of the writer’s tags just fyi, please still read the original tags per your preference.

(not in particular order)

we tried the world and it wasn’t for us; by twelveclara

She studies him, a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes are warm and he decides he no longer believes in science, or logic; there’s a light that comes from within her, like she has a sun for a heart; she wisps around, glittering, and her shadows are moonbeams. She drips dark matter and stardust. “If I were human,” he says, “the likelihood that I would exist at the same time as you is slim - unaccountably, unbearably slim - that it’s a risk I could never imagine taking.” [clara and twelve and philosophy; the paradox of love, and, as clara says, she’s an english teacher. there are too many words. 4,200 words.]

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sometime around midnight by twelveclara

He struggles between making poetry out of her body and telling her the truth: it’s a difficult combination, needing her to know and needing it to be beautiful. She says, breathless in wonderment, “Oh, the amount of things that had to happen in order for me to be standing here at all.“ [midnight in paris au. 20k words. butterflies in summer; his bones on fire. a writer and his muse. they’re making history.]

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Tidal Wave by samchandler1986

Words:5268; Chapters:3/3

This time, it really is their last hurrah.

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if anybody could have saved me it would have been you by twelveclara

He spends the night threading stars into her skin and pouring the moon into the craters of her hips; she watches the birth of deep space begin unfolding underneath her eyelids, and the universe is returned to beauty once again. Together, he believes, they could be the greatest story ever told; if only she would come back to him. [an impossible decision and its consequences; she never wanted to live forever. timelady!clara au. in 12 parts. 6k words.]

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some mad hope by twelveclara

He’d almost forgotten they were still out there, scattered across the stars and solar systems and galaxies, waiting for him. Ghosts. A curse. She’s gone, but she’s not gone. She’ll follow him forever. The idea enthralls him. Please, he thinks, haunt me to death. “You love her,” she says quietly. [on his way to revenge, he finds answers. maybe they’re not much better. maybe they are. a hell bent alternative ending. hybrid au, 6k words, in 10 parts.]

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a theory about us and the universe by twelveclara

“Call it a paradigm shift,” he responds finally, low and delicate. “The Cybermen and their upgrades, the Time Lords and their time machines; you, alive and standing in front of me.” He stops being able to separate idealism and reality, allowing himself a world in which time watches the way he touches her and thinks,finally, you’ve done enough. [post-hell bent, and simultaneously, pre-magician’s apprentice. some people are much harder to tear apart once they’ve been brought together. based off this theory of mine. 10.6k words]

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Love Me Like You Mean it by xXdreameaterXx

Words: 52343; Chapters: 37/37

1959. Dr John Smith moves to Texas with one goal in mind: to start over and forget about his past. When he meets Clara Oswin Oswald, a waitress and an outcast with a whole lot of buried dreams he thinks that she might be just what he needs to give his life some meaning. Diner AU. Rated E for later chapters. Whouffaldi.

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Orpheus's Rescue by peacockgirl

Words: 34120; Chapters: 4/5; Major Character Death; Face The Raven; Hell Bent

For everyone who liked the poignancy of Hell Bent & Face the Raven but wished for better for Clara and the Doctor. Clara has resolved to visit 101 more places before she dies, but after she discovers the Doctor has lied about losing his memories, will he really be able to let her go? Whouffaldi

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The Box Would be Empty by capildissexy

Words:2174; Chapters: 1/1 Major Character Death

Twelve/Clara discuss her mortality. Inspired by the heavy foreshadowing of Clara's life coming to an untimely end.

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Oceans of Me and You by laekanik

Words: 1468; Chapters: 1/1

"I'll be the judge of time," and what followed after.

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Suited and Booted by levendis

Words: 596; Chapters: 1/1

On the red velvet coat. (Set during "Face the Raven")

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Spring Cleaning by levendis

Words: 672; Chapters: 1/1

The box of annoying things. Post-"Hell Bent"

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Ways to Make it Through the Wall by levendis

Words: 1946; Chapters: 1/1

Those who can't figure out their mistakes are doomed to repeat them: The Doctor, the Axis, and an infinite amount of chances to screw up all over again. Post-"Hell Bent"

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the man who fell to earth by jontinf

Words: 3846; Chapters: 1/1

“Is she your beloved? This Clara Oswald of Blackpool.”

He nearly slices off the tip of his thumb and throws a suspicious glance Bors’s way. “Are you ill, Bors?” he asks. “Have you come down with a case of the bloody flux?”

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bones on fire by kissmeinnewyork

Words: 1238; Chapters: 1/1

There are a million different wars he could wage and a million different stars he could burn, but instead he carries on. (post face the raven.)

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Absence in a Vacuum (Where is the Feedback?) by midnightxgarden

Words: 4339; Chapters: 1/1 Hell Bent

Clara made some promises when she took a TARDIS and ran away, but does a frozen heart ever heal? (aka the story of how accidents bring the Doctor and Clara back together in spite of what the universe demands)

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That Subtle Knot by antennapedia

Words: 1473; Chapters: 1/1 Hell Bent

The Doctor tells his story, then reaches out to touch the waitress's hand. And freezes.

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Hiding by xXdreameaterXx

Words: 893; Chapters: 1/1

They never do it in the TARDIS, or her flat. It's like they're different people out there while they're running, like it doesn't even count, like it never really happens at all.

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clara/twelve fic: history, like love  by twelveclara

There are planets orbiting her eyes and her mouth tastes like the ocean; in her head she hears a shatter, like her soul has pried her ribs apart in a desperate, aching attempt to reach his. “If I could have picked anybody,” he murmurs, “it would have been you.” [these words hurt as much as the truth always does. a soulmates/new girl (but you need no knowledge of new girl, i just took the ‘roommates’ plot) au. 15k words.]

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Things We Don't Say by c1araoswa1d

Words: 1977; Chapters: 1/1

Prompt: At the end of Deep Breath, we hear say, “I’m not your boyfriend,” but then the Doctor has to admit to himself he does have feelings for Clara. 

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One of Us has to Remember by whouffaldigarbage

Words: 2075; Chapters: 1/1

In a moment of panic at the end of time, just before he prepares to wipe Clara's memory, the Doctor goes back in time to Clara Oswald, alive and well. Before she died. Before she lost her pulse. When she was just his Clara. Turns out he's not the only one who misses what they used to be.

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Physicians and Phonographs by whouffaldigarbage

Words: 55212; Chapters: 17/17

A Victoran AU. Clara is a maid overseeing the children of a large estate. Struggling with her own desire for freedom and the suitors pursuing her, she feels a profound lack of something in her life. One day, circumstances out of her control lead her to require the services of the mysterious and ostracized Doctor, and a friendship grows between them that leads to something more. Demons from their past come back with a vengeance, society seeks to tear them apart, the supernatural rears its ugly head, and their future stands on the precipice of extinction. Together or alone they could face it all, but the choice is not a simple one.

Rated M for future chapters. Slow burn fic. Angst, humor, the supernatural, and stuffy Victorian romance, with a dash of the original tale of Beauty and the Beast.

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i live to let you shine by freloux

Words: 1125; Chapters: 1/1

Blanket fort ridiculousness.

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Good Days by samchandler1986

Words: 1211; Chapters: 1/1

He said he never forgets a face. Now, neither does she.

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basil and cleopatra by jontinf

Words: 13891; Chapters: 2/2 Hell Bent

Clara and the Doctor if they'd never stopped running.

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The Thief by antennapedia

Words: 9679; Chapters: 1/1 Death in Heaven

The Doctor just smashed up the TARDIS console, but he needs to get away from there. He shoves his fingers into the telepathic matrix and goes... somewhere. He doesn't care where. The TARDIS cares, however. This is what happened in between the visit to Gallifrey and the meeting in the cafe.

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The Hypervodka Incident by antennapedia

Words: 12086; Chapters: 4/?

There’s some karaoke. And hypervodka. And consequences.

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In Your Place by lornesgoldenhair

Words: 7930; Chapters: 1/1 Hell Bent

After years of travelling with Ashildr Clara decides to return to Gallifrey and her own timeline but attempts to Face The Raven fail and she is left in limbo, unresponsive, unable to live or die. Chased by Reapers and Time Lords Ashildr knows only one person can help them now, but can she risk reuniting Clara with him? With paradoxes and rifts opening, Reapers attacking and all hell breaking loose will Clara close the loop and sacrifice herself or will the Doctor take the place of a woman he has forgotten?

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The Man That Once Was by xXdreameaterXx

Words: 7802; Chapters: 4/4

The Doctor has reigned Gallifrey as Lord President since the Time War. Driven mad by power he has one goal in mind: the utter and absolute extinction of the Daleks. Until one day a seemingly ordinary human girl attempts to steal his most precious possession just to bring a little hope to the entire universe.

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Being Human 101 : Lessons in Physiology by lornesgoldenhair

Words: 21240; Chapters: 9/9

This is set in the universe created by 'In Your Place' wherein Clara gets her heartbeat back after the Doctor sacrifices himself to the Raven, but being a Time Lord with a special connection to his companion, he survives. You don’t have to have read it to read this. The two are different in style too.

In Summary : Clara having been frozen between one heartbeat and the next has to relearn how her body works. Everything from sleeping to processing alcohol, eating to sex, its all hazy to her after 400 years but the Doctor is on hand to help her discover what he describes as 'the fun a working body can lead to.'

Rated M for later Chapters.

A bit of an experimental work in progress.

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dim the lights some, whisky lemon by dorothymcshane

Words: 2360; Chapters: 1/1

”Shut up, Oswald.” ”Make me.” In response he turns her around and pins her to the shelf. She gasps, unprepared for losing her control over him so abruptly, and more than a little turned on. ”My pleasure,” he says, his voice seductively husky, and slides her skirt up to place a hand between her legs.

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Communicate by xXdreameaterXx

Words: 1253; Chapters: 1/1

The TARDIS translation circuit is broken. The Doctor doesn't speak English. But there are three words that the two of them still understand perfectly despite their communication failure. Twelve & Clara.

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All Inclusive by xXdreameaterXx

Words: 34335; Chapters: 21/21

When his sister Missy convinces him to go on a cruise the Doctor has no idea that she is sending him on a party & singles cruise, determined to find him a match. It's even more of a surprise to him when he wakes up the morning after a party and realizes he is married to the annoying woman who vomited on his shoes on the first evening. But all will be well and the marriage can be annulled back on land – as long as he and Clara don't consummate it. Whouffaldi AU.

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Running Out Of Pages by UniverseOnHerShoulders

Words: 2589; Chapters: 1/1

Somehow, their evenings always come to this: Clara doing her marking, while the Doctor sits idly beside her and tries to avoid doing anything his companion might deem to be "annoying." So he's surprised when she asks him for background noise while she works - although of course, there are stipulations...

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Double shot, and extra hot by redpandanormalpanda

Words: 2346

AU when your OTP are both assholes - the Whouffaldi version. ‘I’m a barista and you’re the obnoxious customer who comes through and orders a venti macchiato while talking on the phone the whole time so I misspell your name in increasingly creative ways every day’

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The Edge of the World by infinite_regress

Words: 2262; Chapters: 1/1

The Doctor remembers Clara, his memories return in a flood, and he makes some questionable choices. Luckily Clara is there to pick up the peices

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Bookends by samchandler1986

Words: 529 Chapters: 1/1

As the Earth orbits the sun one more time, as the calendar edges closer to counting another year of her brief life, it’s a time for renewal. Like a mini-regeneration. And unlike the TARDIS, Clara’s wardrobe is resolutely finite.

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Like Stars by c1araoswa1d

Words: 2050; Chapters: 1/1

Twelve and Clara have a quiet evening of babysitting.

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but we're so happy (WIP) by twelveclara

part one: “I knew them both,” Jack says quietly. “I watched them fall in love. I watched them change.” Their knees touch, and her hand is on his thigh, and he’s smiling at her like she’s the sole reason he’s alive; Rory pictures the sun and the earth, orbiting. [punk rock au. from the outside looking in. the song repeats, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, haunting him. so, maybe he’ll never know. 10k words]

part two: Nobody has ever kissed her like this in her entire life; she swears she’s spent years building up to this, decades, millenniums. Somewhere, a star is dying and a galaxy is being born and her head is a black hole; in every other dimension a version of her stops and takes in a breath, missing something. She says hotly, “If we’re already going to hell, you might as well just fuck me tonight.” [punk rock au. she’s the devil herself and he never stood a chance. 27k words. mature.]

[tsfrbss]

Paper Moon Part 15

MB - @thecountessakasha - back again. I hope you’re ready for Part 15! There’s no smut, it’s literally all fluff, so apologies in advance. And don’t worry, their saga will continue.

A/N: Bucky and Steve end up at a venue that has a 40s night and meet an OFC, Melissa Rose, a singer in a local club. They both are smitten by her, and start to vie for her affections. They end up finding out more about themselves in the process.

This honestly started out as maybe a one shot but as I got going, I decided it’ll be chapters. How many? No frigging idea. This is my absolute first time writing a fic of any sort and yes I did base the OFC on myself. I hope y'all enjoy.

Word count: 3300+ because I am a wordy bitch.

Warnings: FLUFF to the Goddamn max. Gonna rot your teeth. Oh, and cussing. Like always.

STEVE’S POV

To say that the past few months were rough would be an understatement. Word got out about Bucky and me; and that, of course, led to word getting out about Melissa, Bucky, and me. It was strange; there was almost no animosity aimed at him and me, but just as she predicted, there was plenty aimed at her. People had taken to the Internet and the airwaves to voice their opinion of the “old” woman whom they decided was “ruining Steve and Bucky’s happiness” by “insinuating herself” between us.

Hate mail piled up at the club for her. She quit checking it altogether. Bucky would always gather the multitude of envelopes and go through them to sort out what was important and what was trash. Let me tell ya, her recycling bin has been packed full.

People would pop up at her shows to heckle and ridicule her. Finally, the owner raised the ticket prices and added extra bouncers which helped. Though on the plus side, more people came to actually see her perform. She wowed every single one of them. There were rumors of other places looking to steal her away, but she had vowed to never abandon Club Onyx. Or the owner. He’d been far too good to her and she appreciated it more than he would ever know.

The fact that she’s stuck with us is astonishing to me. And every day I fall deeper because of it. She’s so much stronger than she thinks. Not to say there haven’t been some rough patches. Her depression took over, and at times we couldn’t even get her to speak. There were days upon days when she just refused to get out of bed. Pretty sure she’s upped her rum intake. Even now she’s rarely, if ever, seen outside of the club without Bucky unless it’s to come to the tower. But for the most part we’ve really weathered the storm.

I think the biggest change has been with Bucky. He’s no longer chomping at the bit to take every mission he can get his hands on, trying to keep his mind on anything other than his life. He’s actually been turning down those offered to stay with Melissa during this tumultuous beginning.

For the first time since coming back from Wakanda, the light has truly returned to his eyes. And it’s her. Well, I mean it’s probably me, too. Us. But I really think it’s Melissa more than anything. She’s changed him. Made him more comfortable in his skin. Shown him that there’s more to “Bucky” than just “The Winter Soldier”.

He’s taken to staying at her place more and more. So have I, just not quite as often. It’s not like I get as many opportunities to turn down missions as he does. Part of the mantle of being Captain America, as Natasha is fond of reminding me.

I spend every moment I can with the both of them. Usually at her place. Not because we’re unwelcome at the tower. Far from it. Everyone would like it if we came around more often. They all really like Melissa. Especially Nat, Wanda, Clint, and Sam.

She finally got to meet Thor and was practically gushing about it. She couldn’t stop asking him questions about Asgard, what it’s really like there. She knew all the myths, of course. And how often do you get to meet a god? He in turn, is quite taken with her. Much to Bucky’s dismay.

It’s amazing the effect she has on people. She puts it off as the “southern thing”. Like she’s a novelty. As if that’s the only reason everyone here just adores her. That’s a piece of it, sure, but not all. She’s simply … captivating.

The night after Melissa first came to the tower, we had everyone out to the club to see her perform. Her nerves were on edge all day long.Because of that Bucky and I tried everything we could to keep her calm. She ended up going for a walk, alone, to clear her head. She puts so much pressure on herself.

A good bit of time had passed but Melissa still hadn’t made it back. I was starting to get really worried. Bucky suggested that I head back to the tower to make sure everyone was ready for the evening and that he’d go look for her.

He found her instantly, of course. She’d gone to a little park she discovered one of her first days in New York. It’s a place she and Bucky like to go when they need quiet and anonymity. They’ll put on hoodies and sunglasses and do their best to hide from the world and just sit in the middle of the park, right on the grass. Most times, they don’t even speak. They just exist there in that moment.

Bucky had gathered her up and walked her back to the apartment. The night went off without a hitch and the club received a boost of publicity due to our attendance.

I’ve noticed a change in myself as well. I’m sure Bucky and the others have seen it. I’m not as reckless. That’s the main thing. The idea of not coming back to the two people I love more than anything in this world is a very sobering thought indeed. The mere notion that I would irrevocably hurt them by not returning from a mission is too much to bare.

There are selfish reasons, too. To never be able to look into her dazzling green eyes again, or his shimmering blue ones cuts me to the core. That I wouldn’t be able to touch them, to see them smile, hear their laughter, or the noises they make in the heat of passion is like a stab in the gut.

My world revolves around them. Melissa and Bucky. My twin dark muses. Mes deux muses sombre, as she would say. They hold my heart in their hands. I am nothing without them and I strive every day to show them what they mean to me.

It’s to that end that I’ve decided to surprise them with some gifts. The first one is a simple thing; a sketchbook full of little drawings of the two of them doing mundane activities. Some are individual. Snippets of our everyday lives. Melissa lying in the middle of the living room floor, sheet music strewn around her, forgotten as she buries her nose in some book about Irish peat farmers. Bucky draped across the sofa, headphones on, feet kicking away to the beat of a “new to him” song that she’d turned him on to.

Some are of them together. Bucky is sitting crossed legged on the floor with his back against the overstuffed recliner while Melissa’s legs and arms are wrapped around him as she’s perched in the chair. His head tilted and resting against her thigh as they binge watch House of Cards, discussing what they’d like to do with Claire and Francis. The pair of them in the little kitchen, dancing and singing while they cook dinner for the three of us.

Once I snuck up on them in their little park and sketched them there, laying back on the grass, hoodies and sunglasses on. I watched their chests rise and fall with their breathing, wondering what they’d talked about, what they had been thinking about. Melissa was unaware of my presence, but I’m sure Bucky knew. You can’t fool the super soldier senses, after all.

The other gift is much, much bigger. It’s really a gift for the three of us. I’ve purchased an old brownstone in Brooklyn and am having it renovated into a single dwelling. This dual residence life is wearing on us. We need our own place, private, away from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan and the tower. Melissa needs to be able to detach herself from the club. She’s finally gotten the hang of the subway, so I feel confident she’ll be fine with the move. As for Bucky, he’ll be over the moon. He’s been wanting to move back home. And now I can give that to him.

Tony has decided to throw me a big birthday bash this weekend, so I’m going make the announcement then. Probably doesn’t make much sense for me to be giving gifts on my own birthday, but like I said, this is for all of us.

I can’t wait to see their faces.

BUCKY’S POV

I feel like the luckiest man alive. How I ever was good enough to deserve the pair of them, I’ll never understand. Steve, all the hell he went through to bring me back. He fought the world for me. Not many people can say that about their lover. I am his forever.

And Melissa. My beloved Angel. Her love has forged me into the man I am. The one I was meant to be. The longer I’m with her the harder I fall. She believes in me. I cannot explain what that means, how that affects every action I take.

I’ve been spending more and more time with her, staying at her place. I should really just move in with her. She’s suggested it several times and each time I brush it off; I feel like I’m imposing. But I feel far more comfortable at her apartment than I do at the tower. There I feel like a visitor. Not a true part of the team. At her place, it feels like home. Especially when Steve’s able to stay with us.

Melissa and I like to take care of Steve when he’s around. The missions wear him down so we do our best to help him relax when he’s home with us. It feels good to care for him again, like I used to when we were young.

One of my favorite parts about spending so much time with her is having someone to just be with. We go for walks, we do the shopping, we take in movies, we cook meals, we explore the city. She does try to keep herself incognito, because of everything. I dare someone to try something while I’m around. It’s mundane and domestic and I fucking love every second of it.

No missions, no emergencies. Because of her I feel like a normal person. I’ve even been more comfortable about showing my arm in public. Melissa’s not afraid of it and she always, always makes sure that’s the hand she holds.

She sees herself as undeserving of both Steve and me. Especially after all the shit we’ve been through recently; she feels like it’s all her fault. Oh, but she’s wrong. So very wrong. She deserves the goddamn world on a silver platter. And I aim to give it to her.

I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out a way to show her what she means to me. How she’s helped me, how deeply I’ve fallen for her.

Pieces of my life from before have been coming back periodically, and something I’ve discovered recently is that I can play piano. Not only can I play, I’m actually quite good. I’ve been sneaking downstairs to the club while it’s closed with handfuls of her sheet music to practice. Steve has caught me a few times. He must forget that he can’t sneak up on me. He’s never interrupted or bothered me, merely observes, more than likely sketching.

There’s a point to all this. I have quite the surprise for her. I want to play for her, with her. I can’t sing for shit, but I don’t need to. It’s her voice everyone wants. She’s the real star. I just want to be a part of it, to back her up, support her. And it calms me, I really enjoy it.

I’ve been working on one song in particular. I’m going to spring it on her at Steve’s party. By chance I heard her singing it in the shower one morning. She likes to practice there; the acoustics are phenomenal. The piece makes use of her smokey, lower vocals. Mmmm, her voice is like Tupelo honey. I am awestruck every time I’m blessed to hear it. The lyrics themselves, well let’s just say I can picture her saying these things to me and Steve.

I’ve got something for Steve too, of course. It’s hard to think of things to give him, the man who sacrificed everything he had, everything he was, to save me. But I know what makes him happy, what centers him. Anything art related. Anything.

So, with the help of Tony and Natalia, I was able to get a private tour of the Museum of Modern Art for Steve, Melissa, and myself. The card with all the arrangements will be hidden in a whole shitload of art supplies Melissa and I bought for his upcoming birthday.

And well, since we can’t resist, Steve and I have also conspired to give her a gift from the both of us. One we know she’ll appreciate more than anyone else probably ever would. We’re going to give her each one of our dog tags to wear. The originals. We … acquired them from the Smithsonian. Like they would refuse Captain America anything.

If it seems overly sentimental and nostalgic, well, tough shit. I think Steve and I have earned that right. Melissa will understand the significance. She’s a military brat coming from a long line of veterans stretching all the way back to the Revolutionary War. She gets it and I honestly don’t care if anyone else does. Just thinking of her wearing them makes me heart soar.

I love discovering little things about her. I love how she leads me to rediscover things about myself. I love watching her and Steve together, even if it’s just them doing something as simple as lounging together on the floor, books on history surrounding them as they pour over the words. Their heated discussions will go on for hours; I learn more from listening to them than I ever would reading on my own.

The way she looks at him when she doesn’t think anyone is watching her. Him doing the same. The way she’ll sit still, posing for hours on end for him while he draws or paints her. Most times it ends up with her teasing him mercilessly until he drops his tools and quiets her with passionate kisses.

And oh the way we all seamlessly flow into one another in the bedroom. Sometimes with heated, fiery, gnawing need. Sometimes with giggles and laughter until we can’t take it anymore. It has never felt so natural, so right.

I love these idiots more than I could ever express. I would be lost without them.

MELISSA’S POV

My boys, my beloved boys.

I can’t believe they’re mine. I can’t believe they’re still with me after six months of insanity. Six months of all the hate and worry and stress. I can’t believe Bucky has given up missions to stay by my side. I can’t believe Steve continually professes his love for me. I can’t believe they put up with all my baggage. My anxiety, my depression, my health issues.

Without even realizing it, I have fallen head over heels in love with them. Happiness, something that has always been elusive in my life, is now a constant. Which of course leads to the occasional panic attack, since my brain can’t wrap itself around the notion that I deserve this happiness and likes to construct various scenarios where I lose one or the both of them. Either on a mission or from them simply growing tired of me and leaving.

Nightmares haunt me every now and then, my fears manifesting themselves in my subconscious. I’ll thrash and sweat and full on cry until Bucky finally wakes me. He’ll hold me tightly to him as he waits for me to calm down, all the while whispering to me how he’s here, he’s real, he’s not going anywhere, how much he loves me.

One such incident happened when both Steve and Bucky were home. It must have been a particularly powerful one as it nearly sent Steve into a panic before Bucky explained what was happening and showed him how to deal with it. It took the both of them to bring me back around that night.

Bucky puts up with my shit every time we leave the apartment. Hiding myself under hoodies and sunglasses and baggy clothes. He understands. He was at that point himself not long ago. God, he takes such good care of me; he always makes sure I’m comfortable with it all, that I feel safe, loved.

And the way Steve dotes on me, I’ve never had someone so attentive to my each and every desire. Sometimes before I even know what they are. He has a knack for knowing exact what I need when I need it.

Things like that. Dealing with me on days where I couldn’t even function inside my depression. Nights when my anxiety was so high I would just drink myself into a stupor and couldn’t even perform.

And through it all they’re still committed to me. Because of that I’ve taken on my own mission. To keep them happy any way I can. To give in to every whim or wish they might ever have. If it’s in my capacity to do, then it’s done. Period. No questions asked.

These two, I know they have something up their sleeves. They may be super soldiers but they’re shit at keeping secrets. Something fishy’s going on. And Nat! Oh my god, she’s been teasing me to no end about something she knows that I don’t.

She and I have become quite close. Oh, she is fiercely protective of me, too. I adore her. And Wanda and Sam and Clint. They’ve been so, so great to me. The other members of the team have as well, but these guys. Well, let’s just say they’re by far my closest friends here in the city.

I’ve got news for my two big boys. They’re not the only ones who can be sneaky. I’ve got something up MY sleeve. With Steve’s birthday party coming up, I’ll make some time before we leave to give them their presents. I want it to be special, something just between the three of us.

Of course Bucky and I went overboard on our joint gift. We have a tendency to indulge Steve quite often. I’m not sure all the art supplies we bought are even going to fit into the area we’ve cleared out in the living room for his makeshift studio. Oh well. I’m sure he’ll deal just fine. I can’t wait till he sees what we’ve done.

As for my gifts to the pair of them, I hope they’re comfortable wearing jewelry. I didn’t get anything fancy, or gaudy. That’s just not our style. With that thought in mind, I’ve I found a pair of matching stainless steel cuffs. They’re small, like a little bracelet, but you attach them with screws. And I hold the screwdriver.

On the inside of Steve’s I’ve had engraved Mon Soleil. Bucky’s sports Ma Lune. My Sun and My Moon. My two very large, powerful, all consuming forces.

The light and the dark.

Watching them together is one of my major addictions. I love catching each of them looking at the other. It’s like they have a silent language. They’re always in sync. Whether it’s cleaning the apartment, binge watching a show, or when we’re in the bedroom. It’s like they have one mind.

They speak often of having claimed me. Getting me before anyone else could. Snatching me off the market. As if I was even on the damn market to begin with. It always makes me laugh and shake my head. But, if they’ve claimed me then I’ve done the same to them. They’re mine and I will defend that claim all the rest of my days.

I’m with them to the end of the line.