#wordsmithmaybe
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Interlude (Lesbian AU Sashea) - Wordsmithmaybe
!!! TRIGGER WARNING for ED, mention of substance abuse, and suicidal thoughts !!!
6K+ words
I literally wanted to finish this and post it since September, but life got in the way.
Writing from personal experience. Please don’t read if you know it can trigger you.
Sorry for any spelling mistakes…
I just mainly wrote this for my own mental health and to find some sort of relief..
Enjoy and happy New Year <3
Sasha wakes up the same way she went to bed.
Distraught. Anxious. Weirdly angry. Tired.
Angry.
She realises her anger isn’t caused by the fact that she fell asleep at 6AM. It’s not caused by the pending headache making its way from the back of her neck to her temple, nor by the constant pressing feeling inside her chest.
Her anger is caused by the sound of steps upstairs.
It is almost like someone is…dancing in the roof room, which would explain the distant yet prominent music beat penetrating her ears. Slowly and painfully carving a path to her brain, driving her insane.
She sighs.
And when she sighs, she almost starts crying.
She knows how stupid this whole thing is. She’s about to sob out loud, because she’s been woken up by some silly noises.
But that’s just the superficial reason behind the tears, the fake justification of her sudden urge to break down.
Sasha is aware.
She is aware that she doesn’t truly give a fuck about the sounds, although it would have been nice to get more than 5 hours of sleep.
There is a phenomenon that happens to everyone.
Or perhaps it just happened to her.
It’s the build up of everything that ever goes wrong, gradually yet constantly.
It’s the build up of her stay in rehab for 2 months, the build up of her discharge. It’s the build up of losing friends, losing her job, being forced to move in with her grandmother in the middle of nowhere for the sake of her mental health. It’s the build up of her almost death.
Sasha hadn’t cried over any of these things.
She hadn’t cried when she regained consciousness at the hospital only to find herself hooked to a billion machine after her third overdose on pills. Pills that were meant to make her thinner. More beautiful.
She hadn’t cried when she was forced to eat three times a day during rehab. She hadn’t even cried as she watched her body put on weight, and slowly change into something she’d always hated, always run away from.
But somehow, this stupid beat, this dumb sound upstairs is the breaking point?
No.
She doesn’t cry.
She throws her blanket away, and exits her room, absorbing her threatening tears right back in.
She hasn’t been outside this room ever since she arrived a few days ago. She didn’t want to face anyone or anything.
But she still makes her way up the old wooden steps.
When she finally opens the door, she’s ready to fight whoever caused her to wake up so early.
The first person she sees is her grandmother, dressed in her work out attire. Sasha always found it fascinating that an 85 years old woman still has the power and will to exercice.
But this time she isn’t going to compliment her grandma on her energy or athletic figure.
This time she’s pissed at her.
The grandmother is doing some weird hula hoops moves to an overplayed Spanish song that Sasha has heard a billion times.
“Can you stop this please? I’m trying to get some sleep!” Sasha quickly yells over the music.
Suddenly the song is stopped, her grandma looks at her, and Sasha realises that there is another person in the small room.
A person that she hasn’t seen in the midst of her tantrum.
The stranger stands there in her shorts and sports bra.
It almost feels like time has stopped as Sasha’s gaze travels across the room, examining the dark skinned woman.
She notices her curvy figure, the way her bottom protrudes, and breasts stick out. She notices the length of her legs, their shine, the intimidating symmetry of her sweat-highlighted face, and the playfulness of her violet coloured pixie hair.
In the friction of a second that it takes Sasha to scan her from head to toe, she feels uncomfortable, insecure, nervous.
As the stranger smiles at her, unprecedentedly so, Sasha gets a sense of something else: bewilderment mixed with a tint of lust.
“It’s 11AM, I thought you were up by now. I’m sorry my dear.” Her grandmother apologises.
Sasha finally shifts her eyes back to the grandma.
Seeing the anxious look on her face, she regrets bursting into the room.
“It’s fine,” she quickly says before exiting.
She runs downstairs as fast as she can, goes into her room, and closes the door.
She doesn’t know what happened, but she is sure it shouldn’t make her heart beat this fast.
As she sits on the bed, she catches her reflection on the wall mirror. She observes her baggy sweatpants and shirt. She eyes her bald head; a look she impulsively decided on, the day she left rehab. She runs her fingers across her pale face, feeling the dryness, feeling the lines that are starting to appears.
This is almost 30 years old.
How can this be almost 30?
Since childhood, Sasha Seinsberg was told that she would have the brightest future.
And she did.
She changed her name to Sasha Velour, and that was the beginning of the end.
She made headlines at the age of 21 with her work. She painted, created digital art, and even performed sometimes. She was a queer superstar, and she took over the world. She had millions of fans, and she made millions of dollars. But the empire barely lasted 5 years. Then, came the downfall.
Maybe it was her parents sudden death in a plane crash, or maybe it was the strain of abusive relationships she had gotten herself into.
Something clicked.
she became a different person.
She suddenly felt the need to be in control of her life. She wanted perfection. And she started with herself. She made the choice of becoming the ultimate art that she always dreamed of making.
So she starved herself.
It became a fatal addiction, followed by other addictions: drugs, alcohol, sex.
And the result? More self loathing, more yearning for control.
She wasn’t just stuck in an empty circle. She was stuck in a throbber that wouldn’t stop spinning. Her old self ceased to exist, and surely the media noticed. They turned against her.
People she cherished left her, because they couldn’t handle the self destructive behaviour.
And the fans? They eventually lost interest.
Her grandmother finally forced her into rehab.
But now seeing her face, the face she’s been avoiding, she can’t help but wonder if it’s worth it.
It all feels so pointless. Everything feels pointless.
She lays in bed, and she falls asleep.
She doesn’t dream about anything anymore. It’s just black and peaceful, so she sleeps. She does nothing but sleep all day.
She only wakes up when her grandmother brings her dinner.
Her grandmother stays in the room, watching her eat. It’s this unspoken contract. The old lady gets to take care of her, and Sasha, well, she gets to exist.
“I’m sorry about earlier, sugar.” Her grandmother’s sweet Russian accent rips through the unbearable silence in the room. It interrupts the awkward sound of chewing.
They don’t usually talk much during ‘food’ sessions, so Sasha is surprised.
“We usually work out in the living room,” she adds.
Sasha doesn’t know why she asks. Scratch that. She knows exactly why she asks.
She asks, because she is reminded with the stranger she almost met upstairs. She is reminded with her perfect glowing skin, and somewhat soothing smile. The smile that she only saw for half a second.
So she asks.
“Who was that woman with you?”
Sasha can swear that her grandmother pauses. She pauses for a moment, and looks at her in a way that she isn’t able to decipher. A look that makes her feel exposed, naked, vulnerable.
“Oh, that’s Shea, my personal trainer. Such a lovely woman.” Her grandmother replies.
Of course it’s the personal trainer. Sasha feels stupid for asking.
They don’t say much after that.
The grandmother leaves the room, and Sasha just goes back to bed. But this time she doesn’t fall asleep straight away.
She keeps thinking about the name Shea.
She even googles what it means.
That night, she has her first dream in years.
She’s kneeling on a stage covered in rose petals and fake blood. She’s naked. It’s a human rendition of one of her most popular paintings. She stands up, and the stage is no longer there. Instead, she is in an empty vast field. It’s daytime. The field is greener than anything she’s ever seen. It’s almost glowing.
She turns around, and that’s when she sees her.
Shea.
Standing right behind her, smiling exactly like she smiled in the roof room.
She seems to be naked just like Sasha.
But Sasha can’t shift her gaze from Shea’s face. She can’t look up or down. She just stares at her face. She is lost in her dark eyes.
Then, she wakes up.
It wasn’t a sad dream or a scary dream.
But Sasha somehow feels overwhelmed.
She cries.
She cries for the first time in a long time over everything at once.
She weeps for hours on her bed to the point where her cheeks burn from the tears, and she can’t control her sniffling.
She sobs until her eyes can’t make any more tears.
So she gets up, puts on a jacket and a pair of boots, and goes on a walk in the early cold October morning.
As she walks on the semi frozen road path amusing herself with the sound of chirping birds just now waking up to the world, feeling the crispy refreshing air go through her lungs, she realises how much she missed this.
She missed casual moments of silence. She missed this feeling of freedom, of not having to meet any expectations or cater to any needs.
This is the same ground she walked as a kid, a happy go getter child who didn’t care much about anything except enjoying every moment. This small town just outside the city of Chicago is where all her dreams were made. It’s where she became who she is.
Sasha had forgotten all of that until now.
She knows that she still has to go through so much. She knows that this new journey is just beginning. But somehow in that moment outside, she feels at peace. She feel liberated.
She is free.
Walking back home, she thinks about the dream. She wonders why it made her so emotional. She tries to remember details.
Like how Shea’s eyes were so rich and deep, how looking into them was like getting lost in an alternative universe. How her smile was so gentle yet intense at the same time.
When Sasha returns to the house, she forces herself to stop thinking about Shea, the stranger she only met once, because she realises how creepy that makes her.
But her new decision doesn’t last long.
The moment she walks into the living room, her eyes land on the same familiar face.
Shea is there, just sitting on the couch. She is texting away on her phone. When she feels Sasha’s presence, she looks up.
Sasha is frozen.
“Sorry, I’m just waiting for Vera,” Shea clarifies, referring to the grandmother.
“It’s fine,” Sasha reassures.
“You’re Sasha, right?” Shea questions, the same smile wearing her features again.
Sasha just nods. She doesn’t know how this woman knows her name. Maybe her grandmother mentioned her somehow after yesterday’s event.
She expects Shea to say something else. She looks like she’s about to speak as her mouth opens and closes, but she doesn’t utter a word.
Vera comes down stairs dressed for a hike.
“Good morning, Alexandra. I’m happy to see you up so early!” The grandmother smiles. She’s the only one who still calls Sasha by her birth name from time to time.
She forces a smile.
“I see that you’ve met Shea.” Her grandmother beams.
“Yes, I have.” Sasha confirms awkwardly.
“How rude of me, I didn’t even introduce myself.” Shea quickly jumps in an apologetic tone.
“You don’t need to,” Sasha assures.
She isn’t too certain why these words came out of her mouth, but the second she says them, she excuses herself and goes upstairs.
Sasha is intrigued.
She wants to know more about Shea. She wants to ask her about the purple hair, and the small arm tattoo that she hasn’t been brave enough to read. She wants to ask her why she lives in this small town when she seems like she belongs in a big city.
She wants to ask her if she knows that she looks like art.
Art.
Sasha hasn’t thought about the word art in so long.
She hasn’t been able to remember the last time she held a painting brush, the last time she sketched something. She hasn’t even been able to recall how art made her feel. It all just became emptiness upon emptiness.
And it has scared her.
But Shea.
Shea’s face. Her body. Everything about her reminded Sasha briefly of why she loved art so much.
She loved art, because she was fascinated by the human experience. Maybe that’s why every artistic piece she’s ever brought to the world was centred around a person, or a bunch of people.
During a very short moment of an endless time, Sasha is relieved.
She’s relieved because she realises that she can still see art in people.
She saw it in Shea.
Perhaps, that’s why she wakes up just as early the next morning.
She wants to see the art again. She wants to feel it this time.
But Shea doesn’t show up that morning, or the next morning, or the morning after that.
Sasha isn’t brave enough to ask her grandmother why there are no work out sessions anymore.
The grandmother doesn’t even bring it up at all. And at one point, Sasha starts to wonder if it was all an illusion.
The lines between reality and fantasy have been blurred for her since she went to rehab. The trauma of everything she’s been through has truly altered her perception of reality.
Eventually, the fascination slowly fades away.
Weeks pass by.
Sasha is back to her withdrawn state. She doesn’t care much. She just embraces the numbness. Her grandmother makes sure she eats, showers, and changes clothes. But Sasha doesn’t even have the will to fight through any of these dull activities. She just does them only to go back to her bed.
———–
It’s her 30th birthday, but Sasha doesn’t remember on her own.
She opens her eyes to the sound of her grandmother entering into the room excitedly, singing the Russian version of the birthday song, carrying a chocolate muffin with one lit candle on top.
Sasha gets up, and sits against the headboard.
She knows what she’s supposed to feel.
She’s supposed to feel happy, grateful for her grandma.
But she is unable to create these emotions inside her chest.
She still smiles though.
She still pretends to enjoy Vera’s singing, and her desperate attempt to have a ‘normal’ granddaughter.
How sad it must be for her grandmother, Sasha knows.
Losing her only son, his wife, and then having to rescue her sole granddaughter from the grip of death.
A well deserved third death in the family perhaps would have saved them both the agony of having to go through this day.
But Sasha is alive, and she can’t escape her birthday.
She blows her breath at the candle, and takes a bite of of the buttery muffin.
She remembers the billions of times she spitted out muffin bites, forced herself to run half an hour on the treadmill just so she could be worthy of the vacant number of calories.
None of these things matter anymore.
Not because she’s healed from her sickness.
Not because she’s able to make better healthier decisions for her body.
They don’t matter, because they won’t make a difference.
The calories- lack of, aren’t going to take away the void she feels so deep inside.
The muffin is just that. A muffin.
Her body is just that. A body.
She doesn’t love it. But she doesn’t hate it either.
She’s indifferent to it, just like she’s indifferent to so many things nowadays.
Most things in fact.
Her grandmother forces- talks her into going to lunch out with her. She gifts her a beautiful pastel pink mini dress, white heels, and a blonde straight bob wig.
She puts red lipstick and mascara on her face.
Sasha doesn’t protest. She doesn’t say anything even when she realises that the dress might be a bit too short and ‘girly’ for her liking.
She doesn’t stop her grandmother from placing the fake hair on her bald head.
They walk downstairs, into the living room. Sasha doesn’t notice that her grandmother has stopped walking behind her, but when she hears the loud unanimous 'surprise!’, it hits her.
She slowly turns around, facing a small crowd of 7 or 8 people varying in age. She doesn’t know any of them. They are probably friends of Vera, or maybe they’re neighbours.
They are all cheering and smiling and uttering happy birthday as her grandmother just stands next to them, not participating.
If Sasha’s heart could break one more time, it would be over how sad her 30th birthday is. But she doesn’t feel anything as she continues to scan their faces.
One face suddenly stands out.
It’s her.
It has to be her.
Her hair is different. It’s long, and black and curly. Maybe it’s a wig. It looks like a wig.
Sasha observes.
Time slows down again as she locks eyes with her.
Those dark brown eyes.
And that smile.
God, the smile.
In that moment, Sasha feels the sense of relief again.
She isn’t too sure whether she is relieved to see a somewhat familiar face or because it’s HER face.
Sasha doesn’t say anything for the next half an hour as they sing her more birthday songs, cut the cake, and eat it.
Eventually, they all forget it’s her birthday, and spread across the living room doing their own thing, and chatting with each other.
She catches her grandmother smiling apologetically at her.
Or maybe she’s just smiling.
Maybe the apologetic subtext is something Sasha imagines, because of how shitty this attempt at a party is.
Either way, she just sits on the corner of the couch, awkwardly feeling the fabric of the dress against her thighs.
“Hi,” someone says.
Before she looks up, Sasha is well aware who it is.
Shea sits next to her. Sasha stares at her cautiously, but with a sense of awe she hasn’t experience before.
“I honestly didn’t know what to bring you, so I just got you this sweater that I knitted myself.”
Sasha is surprised. No one has got her a present, except her grandmother. Granted, they don’t know her, and are probably just doing Vera a favour. But Shea doesn’t know her either yet she hands her a brown paper bag with a bright red sweater folded inside.
“Thank you,” She says, taking the sweater out of the bag and opening it.
“I think this colour will look really good on you.” Shea smiles.
Sasha doesn’t like knitted sweater. She doesn’t like bright red either. But she doesn’t say anything. She simply smiles back.
Then, she notices the small embroidery on the upper left side.
“Why this rose?” She asks in subtle shock and confusion, instantly going back in time to her dream.
“It’s a reference to your painting,” Shea casually replies, “Death Petals.”
Sasha almost drops the sweater as she raises her eyebrows at Shea.
“You’re familiar with my art?” She questions.
“Who isn’t!” Shea responds with enough enthusiasm to make Sasha uncomfortable.
Maybe she notices.
“Shit- Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep you out.” Shea apologises.
“It’s fine,” she says, “it’s just that I don’t make art anymore, and I don’t like talking about my previous pieces.”
I don’t make art anymore
This is the first time that Sasha confesses something like that, not only to herself, but to a stranger. And she doesn’t know how she did it.
Does she never want to make art again? Can she even make art again? So many questions overwhelm Sasha in the moment.
“I can take off the rose thingy if you want me to,” Shea suggests. She sounds regretful.
Sasha hates this. She hates being the wounded kitty that everyone tries so hard not to hurt. And even the people who try to treat her like a regular person end up stepping back once they realise how fucked up she is.
Perhaps that’s what Shea is doing now.
Sasha might not be good at art anymore, but she’s definitely still good at reading people.
She senses Shea’s body language shifts from carefree and comfortable to distant and nervous.
“You don’t have to,” Sasha smiles as a poor attempt to fix this. She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to fix or why she wants it fixed.
Shea smiles back, but it’s a very awkward smile.
Then, she says something about how she has to go to work.
“I’ll see you around. Take care, and happy birthday.”
When Sasha goes back to her room later on, she tries the sweater, and to her disbelief, bright red does look good on her.
Her grandmother walks into the room, and gives her a small note.
“It was left in the brown paper bag,” she explains.
Sasha takes the note and reads it.
Call me or text whenever
Shea has left her a phone number. When Sasha looks up, her grandmother is grinning.
“What?” Sasha questions, too defensively.
“Nothing,” Vera says before walking away.
A big part of Sasha is too numb to even care about Shea’s number. But a smaller part is curious.
What if she texted her?
She spends the night wondering about the possibilities, then losing interest every single time.
Shea knows about her art, which also means she probably knows about her breakdowns and failures.
Maybe she left her the number, because she felt bad for her.
Maybe she just wanted to get into the mind of someone like Sasha.
So Sasha doesn’t text.
More weeks fly by like minutes.
Sasha does nothing special.
She tries to leave her room more often only to trick her grandmother into thinking she’s getting better, and it somehow works. But Sasha isn’t getting any better. She doesn’t know how getting better even feels. But she doesn’t care.
She spends most of her time thinking.
She thinks about her childhood, and that one girl she was in love with in the sixth grade. She wonders what she’s doing as she vaguely tries to remember the plain details of her face, the colour of her hair, and the smell of it. She thinks about her parents. She thinks about the day she got the news.
She wasn’t always a perfect daughter. Sometimes, she ignored her dad’s seemingly stupid questions about her art, and she was annoyed by her mother’s constant calls to check up on what she had for dinner or lunch. But other times, she was good to them. She brought them to shows, and she spent most of her money on making sure they were living comfortably.
When they passed away, she didn’t pat herself on the shoulder for buying them a house or a car. Instead, she collapsed in the middle of the hotel room before being woken up by her manager. She spent hours crying her eyes out, because she didn’t respond to the last text her mother had sent. She had read it, groaned in annoyance, and gone straight to her gallery opening.
It didn’t matter what the text said. In fact, she blocked that memory so hard that she can’t even remember it now.
But despite the partial amnesia, the scarring feeling is forever within her. That, she can never get rid of.
When she isn’t thinking about past traumas and childhood days, she thinks about the age of the building she passes by whenever she goes to the grocery store. She thinks about the trees that her grandmother has in her backyard, and she wonders why she keeps planting more when she isn’t going to be around long enough to see them taller and wider. And then she thinks about why the thought of the inevitable death of Vera doesn’t make her sad. She thinks about the constant emptiness that never goes away.
She thinks about therapists, and the concept of happiness. She ends up realising that maybe being happy is just a myth. Maybe it’s better to feel numb and empty than to be sad and miserable. Maybe the universe has healed her by taking her ability to feel away.
The piece of paper that Shea has left for her remains on the wooden nightstand in her room. Every morning, she sees it when she wakes up, and every night she contemplates throwing it away.
On the afternoon of December the 13th, Sasha goes on another walk to the local grocery shop. She buys a bag of pasta, a can of organic tomato sauce, and a bunch of vegetables that she liked the colour of. Then, she goes up the street to a local coffee shop, and buys her black coffee.
Even though it’s freezing cold, she still prefers sitting on the bench outside. She sips on her coffee, glad that the warmth of the liquid is slipping through her skin, bringing her gloveless hands to a normal temperature.
“You wore my sweater.”
Sasha looks up.
“It looks nice on you.”
As Shea sits next to her on the bench, Sasha isn’t surprised to see her again. It all feels like a deja vu. Maybe that’s why the universe made her randomly pick the red sweater to wear on this day. It all makes sense.
“It keeps me warm,” Sasha says, referring to the sweater.
“I like your beanie too,” Shea adds, with a smile.
Sasha feels the oh so familiar sense of relief that she’s felt every time she’s seen that smile.
But she doesn’t say anything.
She just stares at Shea.
She notices the return of the violet pixie hair cut. It probably never went anywhere anyway. Shea is wearing an orange leather jacket, black jeans, and knee high boots. The most colourful boots Sasha has ever seen. They are filled with illustrations of random things like planets, and vegetables and body parts.
“Your boots,"Sasha finally speaks up, "they’re amazing.”
Shea grins, “I would’ve let you borrow them if you called me or texted.”
Again, Sasha doesn’t feel shocked by Shea’s words. Everything that comes out of her mouth feels natural.
“I didn’t know what to say,” Sasha admits.
“That’s fine. I just really wanted to take you out,” Shea casually confesses, locking eyes with Sasha, who, for the first time since they started talking, is taken by surprised.
“Why?” She asks, but Shea doesn’t answer. She just smiles.
They sit silently for a few minutes, staring at each other.
For the first time since they met, Sasha wonders how it would feel like to go on a date with Shea, to kiss her.
To fuck her.
Her heart didn’t skip a beat. She didn’t feel so utterly flustered.
She just wondered.
She had never felt comfortable flirting with people or asking them out, even during her most accomplished and successful days. Usually, women would come up to her, and break the ice.
But the difference here is that she is too numb to even get nervous.
So she says it.
“Why don’t we go back to your place?”
Shea’s eyes widen in surprise. Sasha doesn’t even question her choice of words, but she tries to read Shea’s expression. She tries to understand if she’s glad Sasha was straight forward or shocked and turned off.
Shea doesn’t grin or smile, but the look in her eyes makes it very clear to Sasha that she is curious just as much as her.
“My car is parked right around the corner.” Shea simply states as the sexual tension begins to build up between them, and Sasha feels it.
She suddenly forgets about her problems, and focuses on the goal for the day: Shea.
And she likes it. She likes this almost normal feeling of excitement. She doesn’t care if it’s just temporary relief from the black hole inside her chest, and she doesn’t think about the future.
The car ride is silent.
But then Sasha speaks up.
“So why did you stop working out with my grandma?”
“Oh, she just needed a break, because her hips were hurting her.” Shea informs.
Sasha worries for a second.
“It’s fine though, don’t worry.” She’s reassures.
She grabs a vaper from the backseat, keeping her eyes on the road. She takes a hi, and blows the “smoke” out. Sasha just watches. She eyes her mouth, and kiss her in the moment.
“Wanna try?” Shea offers, glancing at Sasha quickly before shifting her gaze back to the road.
“I would, but I don’t want to end up in rehab again.” Sasha says with a straight face.
“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- It’s actually just essential oils. Nothing harmful.” Shea explains.
Sasha just smiles, “Thank, it’s fine.”
Shea turns on the radio as a attempt to perhaps get rid of the weird awkwardness.
Higher by Rihanna comes on.
“I’m obsessed with this song. Shit.” Shea grins as she enjoys the music.
Sasha just watches her. She’s never heard this song before. It’s an alright song. She doesn’t mind it. But she’s more interested in the way Shea is feeling herself to the lyrics and the tone of the song.
She’s more interested in watching her vape and move her head so rhythmically, as though feeling every word that Rihanna utters so deep in her soul.
She feels the song so much that she starts singing along. With a lot of passion.
A kind of passion that made Sasha ask her if she were a singer.
“God no,” Shea smiles.
Sasha quickly realises that while Shea probably knows way too much about her, she doesn’t enjoy the same privilege.
“Tell me about you,” Sasha questions as the road trip seems longer.
Shea chuckles.
“I’m not that interesting.” She shrugs.
“Anyone who wears these boots in day light is interesting enough to me.” Sasha insists.
“Ha. Well, I live in Chicago, and that’s where we’re going now. I promise I’m not kidnapping you.” Shea winks.
The notion of being kidnapped hadn’t crossed Sasha’s mind. After all she’s the one who suggested going to her place. But now that Shea brought it up, she realises that she wouldn’t even mind being kidnapped by her.
“Are you a full time personal trainer?” Sasha questions.
“You can say that.” Shea replies.
“Are you always not talkative?” Sasha shoots back.
“I like fashion. I design clothes, shoes, and so on. In my free time.” Shea confesses.
“You made these boots.” Sasha states, like what she said is the most known fact of the century.
“Found a plain knee hight Black boots at a dump, and queered them up.” Shea laughs.
Hearing her laughter, Sasha forgets to breathe for a second.
They don’t say much after that, because they arrive to Shea’s place.
They park outside a somewhat old yet renovated building.
Shea leads, and Sasha follows.
Her apartment is what Sasha expected.
Art pieces and paintings covering the walls. Books on queer feminist theory hugging the floor. And of course, a corner for her fashion inventions.
“I’m sorry I haven’t cleaned up the mess in a while.” Shea shyly apologises as she takes off her coat, revealing a silk olive green tank top, her nipple outlines visible through the thin fabric. No bra. Sasha stares before looking away.
“I like messes. They give me energy.” She quickly says.
Shea just giggles, “why am I not surprised?”
She heads to the open kitchen, “Wanna drink anything?”
Sasha just stares at her.
“Non alcoholic.” Shea adds.
“I’m good, thanks.”
She shrugs before chugging down a glass of what seems like cranberry juice.
She’s back in the living room.
“Do you wanna, like, sit down or something?” She stares at Sasha.
But Sasha doesn’t sit down.
Instead, she walks up to her, and slowly, yet fast enough, plants a kiss on her lips.
Shea smiles when Sasha pulls away.
“You don’t waste time, do you?” She smirks.
Sasha just shakes her head.
Shea holds her hand and leads her into the bedroom.
It’s another big beautiful mess that Sasha embraces.
They sit on the bed, and begin to kiss again, this time with more passion as their hand wrap around each other’s bodies.
Sasha feels the thrill that she hasn’t felt in so long. She’s suddenly so thirsty, so hungry for more. She wants it all, and she wants it now.
She pulls away only to remove the sweater and throws it away.
Shea smirks as she takes off her top, revealing her perky breasts and excited nipples.
Sasha pushes her down on the bed. Face to face, she whispers, “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you in your tight shorts and sport bra.”
Shea bites her bottom lip, “Show me how much you’ve wanted me.”
Sasha’s eyes widen as her hands move down Shea’s torso to unzip her jeans.
Shea lifts her legs, making it easy for Sasha to remove the last remaining piece of clothing, her lace panties.
When Shea is fully naked, Sasha sits back and take in the view. Shea runs her fingers through her hair revealing her unshaven armpit that matches her unshaven pussy.
“I hope you don’t mind the hair,” Shea whispers.
Sasha doesn’t answer. Instead, she kisses her lips again, hungrily biting on them. Then she moves to her neck, and sucks on it, tasting the vanilla scented body wash that Shea must have used. She bites on her hard nipples, feeling herself get even more wet the more Shea moans.
She leaves a trail of kisses on her belly, waist, inner thighs.
Shea’s moans get louder.
“Please,” She whispers as Sasha’s breath tickle her swollen clit.
Sasha stares at her pussy.
She wants to feel this way always. She wants to feel this alive. Everyday. She wants to be responsible for someone else’s pleasure.
When she tastes her for the first time, she doesn’t stop until Shea is screaming in pleasure, holding on to Sasha’s bald head, pushing her deeper in.
And just when she’s about to cum, Sasha sticks a finger in, intensifying her orgasm.
Shea is left shaken as she rides the end of her orgasm, eyes closed, the widest smile plastered on her face.
Sasha lays next to her, just watching, observing, registering all the details in her brain.
She finally opens her eyes and grins, “What the fuck did you just do to me?”
“Made your dreams come true.” Sasha smirks.
“Let’s see if you’re going to be cocky for long.”
Shea is about to reach over for Sasha’s bra when she suddenly sits up.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to.” Sasha quickly stops her.
“I want to.” Shea clarifies, she’s confused.
Sasha sighs. Of course this was going to happen.
“I have to go.” She jumps out of bed and puts on her sweater, beanie, and shoes.
“You don’t have to leave, we can hang out.” Shea suggests as she puts on a white robe.
“No, I really need to go.” Sasha protests.
“Okay then, let me drive you back.” Shea says.
Sasha looks at her, she can see the disappointment. So she looks away, embarrassed.
“I’ll just take a cab.”
And she takes the cab. And she goes home. And she thinks about not eating.
It finally hits her.
She doesn’t recognise her body anymore.
Her stomach isn’t as flat, and her thighs aren’t as thin. She even has some fat on her arms.
She can’t identify with herself anymore.
She has a panic attack. She can’t breathe, she can’t even scream. She wants to cry, but she’s unable to. She just stands in the middle of her room, gasping for air.
Then she finally breaks down, and cries.
She locks the door. She doesn’t want dinner.
She screams at her grandmother. She threatens to do something bad to herself if her grandmother doesn’t leave the door.
She hates herself. She’s aware that she’s being nasty, unreasonable, and immature.
But she can’t help it.
She forces herself into bed, and hopes to sleep for a month so she can wake up “skinny” again.
She doesn’t eat anything for two days. She doesn’t leave her bed for two days.
The third day, she hears the door being unlocked. Her eyes open as she waits for a hospital staff to come get her. Because clearly she’s unfit. Clearly she’s going back to rehab.
But there is no hospital staff.
It’s just Shea.
She slowly walks up to the bed
Sasha is embarrassed. She wants the ground to swallow her.
She’s about to ask her to leave as Shea sits next to her.
But when she caresses her face, Sasha melts.
They remain silent for a while until Shea speaks up.
“How are you feeling?”
“I don’t want to go back to rehab.” Sasha quickly blurts outs, burying her face in her palm as she sits up.
“You have to eat.” Shea reminds.
“I can’t.” Sasha protests, still not daring to lock eyes with Shea.
“You can, and you will. If you don’t eat, you’re going back into treatment.” Shea explains. She sounds stern.
Sasha reveals her face again, “You think I don’t know that?” She is defensive.
“You will die.” Shea announces, “If you don’t eat.”
“Maybe I should die.” Sasha gets up and walks towards the window. She stands there, watching the sun sets.
“Grow the fuck up.” Shea shouts.
Sasha is shocked. She turns around quickly, facing.
“You font understand, and you never will.” She says calmly, fighting the tears in her eyes.
Shea rolls her eyes, and let’s out out a disappointed sad laughter.
She seems upset.
“I’ve had bulimia.” She confesses, “For most of my life actually.”
Sasha was not prepared to hear that. She’s about to apologise when Shea speak again.
“I grew the fuck up, and learned how to deal with it. You know why?” Shea asks, but quickly answers, “Because I want to be alive. I want to be in this world.”
Hearing her words, suddenly everything that she’s bottled inside comes out.
It comes out in the form of tears.
She doesn’t even know if she wants to live, but she knows that she needs to feel Shea’s lips again.
So she sits on the bed next to her, and just leans in.
The kiss is burning slow, calming yet exhilarating at the same time.
Shea doesn’t take permission as she slowly slides her hand inside Sasha’s sweatpants. Sasha doesn’t stop her, because this time her bodily desires are too strong to tame.
She doesn’t move her mouth from Shea’s mouth as she fingers her.
That’s when she discovers her talented fingers.
Sasha’s tears haven’t even dried out on her cheeks as she rides her orgasm refusing to stop tongue battling with Shea.
She throws herself at Shea, wrapping her arms around her neck.
In effect her post bliss, she looks into Shea’s dark eyes, and realises something.
She realises that even if she’s lost and uncertain about the world, she will still take a chance only to have this moment again. And again. And again.
———
#sashea#lesbian au#wordsmithmaybe#smut#angst#comfort#sasha velour#shea coulee#rpdr fanfiction#submission
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i'm still waiting for your sashea fanfic
Oh you better have a seat lol
Forget about me and read @missdandee and @wordsmithmaybe
#when will people understand that i'm a mediocre writer#there are tons of sasha on AQ anon#i would be awful at it
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wordsmithmaybe here. Sorry if that "kill myself" like from my latest sashea story offended anyone. I always draw inspo from personal experiences. I didn't mean for it to come across as toxic. I just personally think sometimes when you're in love, you can't imagine surviving without your significant other. That was what I intended to express. Apologies if it was triggering or in bad taste. I will be more careful next time x
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Red Pencil Skirts and Old Prom Dresses (Sashea Lesbian AU) - wordsmithmaybe
A/N Hi:) This is a small fic dedicated to Dandee, because it’s her birthday today August 19th !! Happy Birthday !!!!
We don’t know each other personally, but a friend of yours reached over, and asked if I could write something for you since you love Sashea so here you go <33
P,S Everyone else is also allowed to read and enjoy duh;) don’t forget to wish Dandee a Happy Birthday x
Sasha has always been able to find the right words in any situation.
She’s always been the smart one, the wise, the strong, the intellectual.
She always knew exactly what to say.
She never choked up. Not when she gave her valedictorian speech. Not when she spoke at her mother’s funeral. Not even when she first laid eyes at the woman standing in front of her.
But this is different.
This is not a random thrift store, and she is not trying to find that one missing piece to the outfit she’s planning to wear at her first art exhibition.
A red pencil skirt that she accidentally grabbed from Shea’s hand.
The almost fashion flight turned into a laughing fest when both women realised that the skirt was too small for both of them.
Sasha had no problem flirting with Shea that first time. She had no problem asking her out, and kissing her. She had no problem taking her home for a one night stand which turned into a 3 year relationship.
But at this very moment, she finds an issue with talking, with charming her way like she usually does.
Because this is not a thrift shop, Sasha isn’t trying to claim a red skirt, and Shea isn’t glaring at her.
Shea is smiling.
She has the biggest smile on her face.
A smile that Sasha has not seen before even though she considers herself to be an expert on her lover’s face.
When Shea says her ‘I do’, Sasha’s tongue feels even more tied. She has a mini internal freak out session when she realises that she might not be able to say it back.
Not because she doesn’t want to, but because she’s overwhelmed.
She wants to scream it. She wants to shout it at the crowd of people standing around them, waiting excitedly for the official announcement that confirms their marriage.
But Shea’s face- her beautiful face, her angelic figure in that pastel pink dress that Sasha has made for her on their one year anniversary, they all render Sasha so emotional.
She carries on with her staring, and she remembers the first time that she casually told Shea she loved her.
They had spent the day together, doing nothing in particular, except making out and watching random films. At one point, Sasha fell asleep on the couch. The next day, she woke up in her bed, and when she left the room, heading to the kitchen, she witnessed Shea, clad in nothing but her semi transparent robe, standing against the counter, cooking something.
She had made her favourite breakfast, cleaned the living room, and somehow also managed to buy fresh flowers. Having always been so independent, Sasha had never allowed anyone to take care of her. But watching Shea put so much effort into making her happy, she couldn’t help but be blown away.
It was at that moment when Shea had sat in front of her as they ate breakfast, that she came to discover how much she loved the woman. She loved this domestic nonsense that she never cared for, and she wanted nothing else in the world.
“You do know that I love you, right?” She had announced right there and then.
Shea had softly smiled at her, “I love you too.”
“No, I mean I’m in love with you.” Sasha had clarified.
Shea had giggled and nodded, “I know, and I’m in love with you too.”
It was that simple.
It’s always been that simple with Shea.
Sasha had often felt the need to be intense, and serious all the time. Everyday, she had to be fighting something, whether it be patriarchy, homophobia, or simply the stupid man at the bakery who kept flirting with her even when she made it clear that she wasn’t interested.
But being with Shea had made her realise that it’s okay to let go. It’s okay to sit back and relax. It’s okay to tell jokes, and enjoy life.
Perhaps that’s why proposing wasn’t hard.
They had been trying to book a holiday somewhere sunny and far away for a while, and it just so happened that every website had a discount for married couples.
“Maybe we should get married,” Sasha had joked, looking at the laptop screen over Shea’s shoulders.
Shea had laughed out loud, but suddenly Sasha was aware that they could get married. Suddenly, it wasn’t a joke anymore. Weren’t they already married? Moving in together, having a joint bank account, adopting one dog and two cats. They had just celebrated their third year anniversary.
When Sasha didn’t laugh back, Shea turned around and looked at her.
“Wait, are you proposing?” She had asked in the same casual tone that Sasha had used.
“All the discounts and stuff. Sounds tempting.” Sasha had grinned, and Shea had jumped at her, kissing her lips.
And so the next day they were on the hunt for rings. They had both decided to buy rings for each other.
Just like that, a simple holiday plan has now been turned into a honeymoon to Spain.
Prior to meeting Shea, Sasha had never really put any thoughts into her eventual wedding.
Because her eventual wedding didn’t exist in her head.
Not only was gay marriage illegal until very recently, Sasha also saw marriage as nothing but an obedience to a corrupt government and imaginary Gods.
But maybe obeying the government and even a God isn’t so bad if it’s meant having access to a lot of rights that they might not have access to otherwise as a gay couple.
In fact, she ended up concluding that getting married as a queer person is an act of rebellion and defiance.
So why not defy all the social norms by announcing your love for the woman of your life publicly?
She didn’t care about the wedding, neither did Shea.
They planned everything in a week. They both wore dresses that they already owned that had meaning to them.
Sasha wore her mother’s prom dress that she had kept for years.
She always adored her fashion sense.
The strapless dress was purple and white, a mixture of Satin and chiffon, with an embroidered flower on the left chest area, near the heart.
She had gotten that same flower tattooed on her arm back in college after her mother’s passing, so it only made sense to wear it at her wedding.
They decided to hold the wedding at their favourite public garden. It wasn’t a fancy location, but they loved it, especially during the summer.
And they only invited 20 people.
Sasha’s father was the first to arrive, followed by Shea’s mother, and her brother.
The rest were just distant cousins who didn’t hate them, and friends that supported everything they did.
When Sasha’s wondering mind returns to her physical self, she is reminded that people are looking at her.
She can’t see them. But she can feel their gazes pierce through her soul.
Even Shea is looking at her.
They are all waiting for the words to come out of Sasha’s mouth.
She reaches over, and holds Shea’s hand in hers.
Shea’s hand is firm and stable, and it reminds Sasha of yet another reason why she fell in love with her.
She fell in love, because Shea is strong.
She’s resilient. She’s supportive, and she never backs down from what she thinks is right. She persists, and she fights for what she deserves.
She even had to fight for their relationship at one point.
Sasha, being her free spirited self, refused to commit to Shea at first.
They had hooked up so many times by then, and gone on a lot of dates. Shea was open and frank. Sasha, on the other hand, still had her guards up even though she liked the other woman.
So one night Shea confronted her as she was getting dressed, ready to leave after sex.
Shea had said, “I know you don’t fully trust me yet, but I want you to know that I really like you.”
Sasha was taken back by Shea’s words. She’s not used to sleeping with girls who were so honest and straight forward. She quickly zipped her jeans, refusing to make eye contact. She didn’t want to say anything.
But Shea carried on, “I really want us to be exclusive and official, and if that’s really not what you want, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
Sasha was shocked.
Where did all of this come from? How does she deal with it?
So many questions she didn’t want to hear, and so many answers she didn’t want to utter.
“Can we not do this now?” She had suggested, grabbing her bag.
“If you leave, make sure you don’t ever come back then, because I deserve better. I deserve to be treated just as well as I treat you.” Shea demanded, not in a threatening angry voice, not in a sad tone, but simply in a calm confident manner.
Looking at her in that moment, Sasha realised that this is different, that Shea is different.
So she stayed.
And eyeing her now, she gets that same sense of realisation.
This is indeed different.
This is what she’s been secretly wanting and hoping for even when she refused to admit that she believed in love.
She’s staring at the life she always dreamed of, at the person she is willing and excited to be with for the rest of her days.
She is still overwhelmed with joy, and tears, but with Shea’s hand still in hers, she says it.
“I do.”
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The Louvre (Sashea Lesbian AU) - wordsmithmaybe
A/N Guess who’s back with another Sashea lesbian AU fanfic? *awkwardly raises hand*
This was lowkey inspired by one of Lorde’s new songs ( hence the title)
Enjoy, my lovelies <3
Shea isn’t heartbroken.
She was never the type of girl that felt too many feelings all at once. And she was definitely not one to cry over a failed relationship.
She carried herself with so much pride and strength that the thought of ever falling apart, or allowing herself to fall apart never crossed her mind.
It was never an option.
Every time, she had to keep going.
Every.
Single.
Time.
She fought so hard for everything she achieved: a former super model, a high fashion photographer, and a millionaire before she even turned 30.
Talent is good, bud hard work is even better.
She loved and appreciated everything she had accomplished alone.
But somehow nothing matters anymore.
Because she’s gone.
Shea IS heartbroken.
Laying on her king sized bed, surrounded by things that cost too much, she cries.
For the first time in over ten years.
She cries, because she lost her.
The only one that ever made sense in a world of clutter and chaos.
Sasha didn’t come into her life with an agenda; if Shea knew one thing it would be that.
When she knocked on her door a year ago, Shea thought it was a joke.
“You booked me for tonight on the website,” She had said, taking off her coat only to reveal a corseted waist, pasty covered nipples, and the tiniest thong Shea had ever seen.
The strange thing was, despite the sexy “outfit”, Sasha unveiled an otherworldly type of innocence in her smile.
Her face was the closest thing to perfection, and even though Shea believed perfect is subjective, she decided to make an exception one time, that turned into two times, then three, then four, then five, then she lost count.
Shea hadn’t booked anyone that night, definitely not an escort or a “call girl”, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything except play along.
Turned out, days later, her friends had wanted to send her a late funny surprise for her birthday.
And what a surprise it was.
That night, Shea didn’t want to do anything but stare and listen.
Sasha talked a lot, mostly nervous babbles.
Shea wondered whether that was her “style” or she was truly naive.
In the end, she decided it was a mixture of both.
Nothing really happened.
Except when Sasha awkwardly asked if she could leave, since not much was going on.
Shea kissed her, and asked if she could stay for the night.
Sasha’s eyes sparkled as she whispered, “I don’t usually kiss my clients.”
Shea quickly apologised, but Sasha smiled and kissed her back, “Maybe I’ll make an exception,”
And another exception became a habit. For both of them.
As Shea’s tears keep streaming, colouring her sheets with mascara and eyeliner, she can only remember Sasha, fresh out of the shower, asking if she could use some of her her makeup kit.
That first morning.
That first damned morning.
“I’m sorry I usually don’t sleep over. I didn’t pack my makeup, and I look terrible.” Sasha kept explaining, but Shea just smiled. She wanted to tell her that she looked like the white roses which grew in her garden every spring. Then, she decided that was too specific of a description.
“Only if you let me do your makeup,” She jokingly requested.
Sasha just giggled.
And the only thing Shea remembers after that, is the soft feel of Sasha’s cheek against her hand’s palm side as she gently applied a natural shade of eyeshadow onto her eyelids.
She did her makeup, and drove her back to her place.
She knew these were not things you do for an “escort”.
Sasha also knew, Shea figured, because she refused to get paid as she quickly typed her number on Shea’s phone.
The next time they met, it was at a restaurant.
A week later.
Sasha wasn’t wearing that red corset.
Instead, she had a beautiful black strapless dress on, her blond hair pulled into a tight ponytail.
Shea was mesmerised. Once again, she couldn’t take her eyes off of Sasha.
She wasn’t sure what was happening.
This random woman just came into her life in the most bizarre ways.
Yet here she was, taking her breath away without even trying.
Shea was dazed; and she stayed dazed for the entire time.
They talked.
A lot.
By the end of the “date”, Shea felt like she knew everything about Sasha. Not just that she made art for a living, and escorted women to pay the bills, but also how dogs were her favourite animals, that she hated fizzy drinks, but loved sparkling water. Which made no sense. But Shea was starting to get used to this nonsense.
After all, she was on a date with a call girl that her friends sent.
Nothing beats that.
“Capitalism killed the art,” The blonde girl had casually stated, taking a sip from her wine glass, “I have to do what I have to do,”
Shea also found out that Sasha was originally from Russia, and that she loved smoking weed and talking shit about the world.
Was it too early to admit that she was smitten?
Maybe it was nervous babble again, but Shea loved every single word that escaped her red lips.
When they had finished their food, Shea realised that she had also told her a lot about herself.
Like how she was raised and abused in foster care, how she always dreamed of being a model, but when that dream finally
came true, she left it behind for photography.
She had discovered that she enjoyed looking at beautiful things more than she enjoyed being the beautiful thing.
Sasha quickly became her favourite beautiful thing to look at.
That night, they took the longest walk in the city.
They were getting to know each other, but Shea felt like she was just remembering something that had already happened.
Perhaps in a past life.
Many things made Shea feel like she already knew Sasha.
The way she didn’t feel scared or nervous around her.
How their hands fit perfectly together as they held onto each other, and watched the sunrise over Brooklyn.
It was a fairytale dream, and Shea couldn’t believe her eyes.
Sasha was sweet to her.
She cared.
She listened.
She didn’t value Shea for her fortune or fame.
She was too proud to even let Shea spend money on her.
Maybe that was the red flag Shea should have paid attention to, but she was too young and in love to be bothered.
Their new found romance moved quickly; even made minor headlines.
Shea’s friends didn’t approve.
Sasha’s friends didn’t approve.
Everyone didn’t get it.
They didn’t understand how they could be together.
But Shea and Sasha didn’t care.
At least at first.
Sasha continued her “night job” as well as day job.
And Shea didn’t mind.
At first.
They had talked about it, and Sasha had promised that she never let any women “go down on her”, and she would never kiss them.
Her job was to please; she got paid for it.
That made Shea feel somewhat better, but deep down she was getting jealous.
She was also getting more hurt, because why didn’t Sasha want to be taken care of by her?
Shea had enough money for both of them to live comfortably for years to come.
Shea secretly hated that stubborn Russian pride that made her fall in love with Sasha.
But things were still good.
They still spent most nights together.
In each other’s arms.
They danced their mornings away to ABBA songs as they made breakfast, and spent entire afternoons eating popcorn and binge-watching the worst horror films from the 80s.
They went on endless hikes, and ate hotdogs in parks.
Shea started to forget everything awful that had ever happened.
Shea was happy.
Genuinely happy.
And Sasha? Shea thought she was happy too.
But then suddenly, people were talking too much.
The gossips.
The bigger headlines.
The friends that still didn’t get the memo.
Shea didn’t care much, but it became obvious that Sasha felt differently.
She started missing date nights, and she stopped coming over.
In no time, Shea found herself staring at the photos she had taken of Sasha, trying to understand what was happening.
She went over, to ask questions.
But Sasha only smiled.
Not that giggly or warm type of smile.
Not the smile she had on her face every morning they woke up to each other.
Or the smile she wore when Shea agreed to ordering pizza at midnight.
Not even the one she displayed when she saw puppies.
This smile was different.
This smile was sad, and broken, and disappointed.
“I can’t be with you,” Sasha, then, admitted, “I’m sorry,”
That was it.
That was everything she had said before closing the door.
Of course, Shea knew why.
There were too many reasons.
Maybe it was the New York Times article that discussed her “affair”. A famous model turned photographer dating a random Brooklyn painter who dabbles in “prostitution”.
Maybe it was the fact that she lost friends and colleagues over her love life. Perhaps it was watching Sasha’s endless struggles to pay the bills, and not being able to help out.
She had returned home a week ago, and never left.
She hasn’t answered any calls or messages.
She hasn’t showered or even looked in a mirror.
And she doesn’t even remember the last thing she’s eaten.
Maybe it was that cheese pizza, half of which is still laying in the box on her nightstand.
Nothing matters.
Because she is gone.
Shea has cried so much that she is pretty sure there are no tears left in her eyes.
So she turns to alcohol, and cigarettes, and more alcohol, and more cigarettes.
By the end of the second week, she can’t believe she’s still alive.
She feels like she’s in another realm, a less palpable reality.
She’s losing grasp on her sanity.
So when the door bell rings, it seems like the work of her imagination.
More rings, but then they stop.
It would’ve been her imagination playing tricks on her had she not heard the front door open. Had she not seen Sasha walk into her bedroom. Tears streaming like rivers down her pale cheeks.
“Oh my god, you’re okay,” She says as her sobs get louder, “I had to literally force security to open the door for me,”
Sasha threw herself on Shea, and hugged her, whispering, “I thought something bad had happened to you.”
Shea can’t return the hug.
She has dreamed of this moment for days, but now that it’s happening, something feels wrong.
It feels unfair.
Her heart is beating so fast that she can barely breathe, but it’s not because she’s in love.
It’s because she’s mad.
Angry.
Enraged.
She pushes Sasha away, and jumps away from the bed. Like she’s trying to leave as much space between them.
She doesn’t want to cry, but since when tears listen?
So without permission, they roll down her cheeks, slowly at first. Then all together.
Shea is crying, and screaming, and saying things she doesn’t understand.
Something about how Sasha can’t do this to her.
She can’t break her heart apart, then show up like nothing has occurred.
Like Shea��s life hasn’t turned upside down.
Like she hasn’t felt death whisper sweet melodies close to her ears just hours ago.
Sasha’s face express what can only be interpreted as hurt.
But Shea doesn’t care.
She just sits on the floor, by the window, burying her face between her knees.
She doesn’t lift her head even when she hears Sasha walk around the room, doing whatever.
Sasha doesn’t leave.
Instead, Shea realises she’s cleaned the room and threw away the trash as she finally looks up.
“Go take a shower,” Sasha states casually, her eyes still red and puffy from the silent tears, “I don’t think you’ve eaten in a while, I’ll order Chinese.”
Shea just stares, poker face is all she can master in the moment, “You don’t even like Chinese.”
“Yeah, but I love you,” Sasha replied in the most casual manner. She doesn’t even look at Shea as she continues to organise the nightstand, her back facing the other woman.
Shea shakes her head in disbelief. She almost chuckles despite her heart still having been shattered only two weeks ago.
Her anger begins to subdue, but not entirely.
She doesn’t say anything back, and she knows that must have killed a piece inside Sasha’s heart.
But she doesn’t care.
Okay.
Maybe she does care, but she also cares about her own feelings that were not only hurt but brutalised by Sasha.
Maybe Sasha needs to feel some of her pain in order to understand Shea, perhaps even regret her decision to leave in the middle of the greatest thing that ever happened to any of them.
Shea takes a shower, and comes back to the room.
“The food is gonna be here in a few minutes,” Sasha says, avoiding eye contact.
Shea rolls her eyes, “I don’t care about the food,”
Sasha looks up, and they lock eyes.
Shea knows that Sasha knows that they need to talk.
“You didn’t come here to eat Chinese food with me. If that’s the case, maybe you should just leave.” Shea states.
She sits down on the bed, so far away from Sasha, but also close enough to notice her face slightly changing as she brings her thumb to her mouth and bites her nail.
A habit Shea is well too familiar with.
Sasha is stressed, and overwhelmed.
Shea knows that.
But she also knows that she’s not about to have her heart broken all over again over Chinese food.
She wants to be in the moment.
She wants to reach over and grab Sasha in for the most desperate embrace.
She wants to kiss her lips, and sleep this nightmare away next to her.
But she can’t do that unless Sasha says something.
“I’m not good with apologies,” Sasha starts off, avoiding Shea’s eyes once again, “But I’m so fucking sorry. I messed up, okay? I ruined the best thing in my life.”
Sasha has always been a pro at hiding her tears.
If it weren’t for her voice breaking, Shea would have never known.
“I know it’s too late now to fix it all, but I will always be in love with you.” She continues, “if anything bad happens to you because of me, I swear to god I will fucking kill myself, because I can’t-”
As Sasha’s sobs get louder, Shea does what she wanted to do for the past two weeks.
She brings Sasha in and just hugs her so tight that she can literally feel the pieces of her smashed heart get mended back together.
They fall asleep in each other’s arms, and just like that things are no longer horrible.
Shea will later wonder what has happened to that Chinese food delivery.
Shea will also wonder about all the possibilities that would have been written off from her life had Sasha never showed up that night.
Sasha will change, and she will say yes when Shea asks her to move in for the tenth time.
She will paint 30 different portraits of Shea, and have the success she’s always dreamed of. She will decide to ditch her escorting job, to love Shea full time.
Shea will fall in love with her everyday all over again, and continue to grow by her side.
They will make art and love together for many, many, years to come.
They will fight, and break up. Then get back together.
They will travel to places they never knew existed and experience things they never thought about experiencing.
They will eventually get married. Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
Maybe they will adopt children, and maybe dogs. Or both.
They will grow old together, and sleep in the same bed even when blonde hair is specifically white and tall model figure is not as tall or slender anymore.
They will always be in the back supporting each other even when everyone else no longer knows who they are.
They will write a legendary love story, and it will blow the minds of girls and boys and everyone in between everywhere.
Every time.
#wordsmithmaybe#shea coulee#sasha velour#sashea#lesbian au#angst#hurt/comfort#fluff#tw substance abuse mention#tw language#rpdr fanfiction#submission
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Into Your Arms ( Sashea AU) - wordsmithmaybe
A/N: Hello hello hello :) This is not a lesbian AU but I hope you like it anyway x
I used she and he depending on whether they are in or out of drag.
Almost 6K words!!!
enjoy my lovelies x
“it’ll be fun, come on!” Aja, a legendary New York queen, and one of Sasha’s close friends, insists.
As she continues her blabbering about the biggest white party in Brooklyn, Sasha wonders how he’s going to get out of this situation.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend time with his friends or go to clubs, but between his nightly drag performances and his day job as a graphic designer, he needs a break this weekend.
Going to a random party at 1AM doesn’t seem as exciting when you’re sleep deprived, and stressed.
But Aja has a way with words that in half an hour Sasha finds himself getting ready, running around his room trying to put a white outfit together.
He huffs and puffs and sighs, because he still doesn’t want to go but now there is no stepping back. The other queen just laughs as she Snapchats her friend’s troubles.
Aja was right.
The party is indeed “lit” as she eloquently described earlier, Sasha can’t deny.
But that doesn’t mean she’s enjoying herself.
After a couple of drinks and many conversations, she begins to feel bored and tired. The small amount of alcohol she consumed is already giving her a minor, but annoying headache.
She sits in a corner, and goes on her phone, suddenly double tapping photos of people she barely knows sounds more meaningful than socialising with the ones around her.
She looks up for a bit only to witness Aja’s third (maybe fourth) impromptu lip sync on the tiny stage.
She can tell her friend is drunk, but at least she’s having a good time, unlike Sasha.
Sasha doesn’t want to be a buzz killer, but her anxiety and exhaustion are both getting the best of her. All she wants to do is be in bed; her phone no longer distracting her from the way she’s feeling physically, and emotionally.
She gets up, and looks around for Aja, but she’s nowhere to be seen. She sighs.
Aja is drunk, which means finding her is going to be tricky, and Sasha is not in the mood.
She turns around and spots Aquaria, one of their drag friends, she asks her if she’s seen Aja.
“Your girl just left with someone,” Aquaria smirks, “He’s really hot, you should’ve seen him.”
Sasha just rolls her eyes, “Looks like she bailed on me for dick,”
“I mean, can you blame her?” Aquaria giggles before giving Sasha a quick shoulder squeeze and walking away to talk to some other people.
Sasha decides to order an uber since that seems like the fastest way to get home. She may be short on money, but she’s too tired to worry about her financial state now.
As she’s about to go to the app on her phone, someone falls into her arms.
Literally.
She drops her phone in the process, shocked to see a drunk drag queen just clinging to her.
It’s obvious that she’s extremely intoxicated.
Sasha sighs. Just another thing to ruin her night.
She lifts the person’s head a bit from her shoulder and looks at the half sleepy face.
Sasha has never been one to obsess over good looking people, but even under the club’s dim neon lighting, she can see how gorgeous this stranger is.
And for a moment, she feels nervous.
But when she remembers that the other queen is very out of it, she’s no longer thinking about her plump lips, perfect nose, and glowing dark skin.
Instead she awkwardly sits down on a couch, and make the person attached to her body, lay down next to her.
She grabs her phone, and curses when she notices that the screen is kind of broken.
She hasn’t even officially met this drunk, and she’s already pissed at her.
She gets up, deciding to go home.
Fuck this, she hisses.
It’s not her responsibility, nor her job to take care of this random human.
But she only takes one step forward before guilt takes her right back to that couch.
She realises something bad might happen to this person, and despite her personal feelings of resentment, she knows that she has to take care of her.
But the person doesn’t seem to have her wallet or phone, and she has passed out.
Sasha tries shaking her awake, but it doesn’t work, so she just sits there, biting her bottom lip in anger.
The party seems to be cooling down, but the person isn’t waking up.
Sasha doesn’t know what to do.
There is no way she could drag her anywhere in this state.
Plus, she doesn’t think it’s ethical or right to take her anywhere while she is unconscious, is it?
No one in the party seems to recognise the drunk queen, and Sasha is at the verge of giving up.
After a few minutes, she leans back against the couch, putting one arm protectively around the stranger, and just like that, she drifts away.
Only to be woken up by the bartender when the club is closing.
“I’m sorry, but you two have to leave.” He says, smiling apologetically.
Sasha sighs, “I don’t really know this person, and I don’t want to leave her like this.” She confesses.
“Your best bet at this point is to get a cab, and just take her home with you. Maybe they’ll finally wake up.” The bartender suggests, “or you can just leave her outside if you’re Satan.” Even though he laughs, Sasha doesn’t take it as a joke.
“I’ll need another tequila shot to deal with this,” Sasha says, sighing.
“The bar is closed, but I got you,” the bartender winks.
She takes her shot, and he helps her get an uber and drag the sleeping stranger into it.
All the way back to her place, Sasha keeps hoping she would wake up, but she doesn’t.
To her annoyance, the uber driver is singing along ever so quietly to every song that comes on the radio.
Sasha puts her headphones on, and plays her own music, but then the driver decides it’s time to start a conversation.
“Your boyfriend is going to have a horrible headache tomorrow,” he cackles too loud for her ears, and she just fakes a smile and nods.
It would take too much effort to explain the entire situation.
When they get to her place, the stranger is half conscious.
She is still drunk, but she manages to walk upstairs with Sasha hanging onto her.
“Are you going to fuck me?” She whispers when Sasha puts her to sleep on the sofa in her living room.
Sasha just rolls her eyes.
The stranger reaches over and grabs Sasha’s face.
“I think you’re cute. It’s okay, you can fuck me.” She giggles, her breath reeking with alcohol.
Sasha manages to set herself free, and just simply looks down on her as she just lays there in her bedazzled black leotard, wavy purple her, full makeup face, and the highest platform heels.
She is a pretty drag queen, Sasha has to admit.
But the thought of even attempting to take advantage of her doesn’t cross her mind.
She removes her heels, and throws a blanket on her.
“Don’t kill me in my sleep,” She jokes, mostly under her breath as the other queen has already fallen asleep.
She goes back to her room, and after getting out of drag, he finally falls asleep.
Five hours later, he’s woken up by someone talking.
He opens his eyes, and quickly remembers the event of last night.
He gets up, and leaves his bedroom only to see the stranger from last night all sat up, his wig is off, and he’s on the phone with someone.
“I don’t know girl, he’s asleep,” he says, “I’ll send you my location on whatsapp, just come pick me up please.”
Sasha just watches. For the first time he is seeing this person fully conscious.
“Geez, Pierre. I don’t know if we fucked. I don’t think we did, but I don’t want to think about it now. Bye.” He says before hanging up.
Sasha clears his throat on purpose as he awkwardly stands there waiting for the other guy to look up.
He finally does.
“Shit, you’re up.” He quickly says standing up, “I’m so sorry for whatever happened last night, my friend will be here in ten minutes to pick me up.”
Seeing how frustrated he seems, Sasha just smiles, “It’s fine, relax.” He adds.
Sasha’s words seem to have relaxed him a bit as he just nods, “I’m Shea by the way.”
Shea.
A very unusual name that Sasha has never hears before, but somehow he already likes the sound of it.
“I’m Sasha,” he introduces, “And just so you know, we didn’t sleep with each other. Or kissed. Or did anything.”
Shea just lets out an awkward nervous laughter, “would you mind telling me how I ended up here? I honestly can’t remember anything from last night.”
“Well, you quite literally fell into my arms, and then passed out.” Sasha explains, sitting on the sofa, “It’s okay, you can sit down and wait for your friend. I’m not gonna get mad.” He smiles, trying not to embarrass Shea even more. He can see he seems uneasy.
Shea sits down, and buries his face in his hands, “I’m sorry, that’s so not like me.”
“It looked like you were alone, and I couldn’t find your phone, so I just brought you home, because I didn’t want anything bad happening if I just left you like that,” Sasha explains, “By the way, where was your phone?”
Shea looks at him, and grins, “in my wig cap. Drunk me probably didn’t want to lose her phone.”
Sasha can’t help but giggle, “that’s a smart move.”
There is an awkward silence. Sasha can’t help but admire the sheepish smile on Shea’s face.
He comes to the realisation again that Shea is actually very good looking even with just a wig cap on, and all that messy hangover makeup all over his face.
“Thank you,” Shea finally breaks the silence, “Honestly thank you so much for taking care of me like that. God knows what would’ve happened if it were someone else.”
Sasha just smiles. He is surprised that Shea quickly trusted him. He expected him to at least question his intention. But instead, he believed what he told him right away.
Shea’s phone buzzes, and he gets up after checking the text he received.
“My friend is down stairs,” he announce.
Sasha doesn’t know why, but he feels a tiny bit sad that this random meet up is about to be over. He doesn’t want it to be over.
“Listen, can I please invite you out for lunch or something? Just to make up for whatever trouble I caused you last night.” Shea offers.
Sasha’s immediate body response was to say “yes please” but he remembers his manners, “honestly it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything for me.”
Shea’s face quickly changes “Shit, sorry. That probably sounds like I’m asking you out. I promise it’s nothing like that.”
Sasha feels a sudden wave of disappointment take over. Why did he have to ruin this? Maybe he was hoping Shea would ask him out.
“I have a boyfriend, I swear. I just think maybe we can be friends?“Shea quickly corrects himself.
Of course Shea has a boyfriend. The good ones are always taken. He sighs internally, but he still doesn’t want to waste an opportunity to spend time with him. Even as friends.
“Alright Shea, if you want to be my friend so badly, I guess I’ll have to let it happen.” He teases, jokingly, grinning.
Shea just rolls his eyes, and smiles, “We are definitely getting along.”
After exchanging phone numbers, they agree to meet the next day at one of Shea’s favourite brunch places.
Sasha doesn’t understand why he feels nervous as he gets ready.
He’s already met Shea. He’s seen him drunk. There should be nothing to worry about, and yet his heart still beats faster than usual as he picks his outfit and wonders what they’ll talk about.
Something about Shea really drew him in. He is still trying to figure it out, but it’s like his energy matched perfectly with Shea.
After trying way too many outfits, he ends up wearing his usual black turtleneck shirt and skinny dark jeans, with the only colour on him being his red glasses.
Sasha is so nervous that he ends up arriving half an hour early and just waiting for Shea outside, using his free time to text and check social media.
He doesn’t notice Shea’s presence until Shea’s taps him on the shoulder.
He quickly jumps, dropping his phone. Again.
Thar phone had been through way too much.
He looks up quickly, meeting Shea’s eyes. He is suddenly too embarrassed to say or do anything.
“Sorry about your phone.” Shea says with a smile on his face. He leans down in order to grab Sasha’s phone for him. That’s when Sasha wakes up, and quickly kneels down at the same time as Shea.
They reach for the phone simultaneously, causing their hands to touch.
Sasha swears he feels everything around them stop as he looks up to meet Shea’s eyes, but then it hits him how silly his dramatic emotions are, so he quickly grabs the phone and gets up.
“Don’t worry about my phone, it’ll survive.” He says with an awkward smile, wiping his screen.
Shea seems so relaxed, Sasha notices. He just smirks back at him, and nods.
They go into the restaurant, and Sasha is terrified.
He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly very antisocial and incapable of just forming normal human sentences.
But when Shea shows him a random, but hilarious meme on his phone, Sasha feels a bit less stressed.
Slowly, as the conversation builds up, Sasha finds the courage to be himself.
“So tell me more about your drag persona!!” Shea asks excitedly taking a bite from his avocado toast.
Sasha grins. They’ve been talking about drag culture and queer history for what seemed like forever, and Sasha is realising he doesn’t mind it at all.
“Well, Sasha Velour is a lesbian feminist who likes art and hates being called pretty,” She explains, “So basically just an artsy white girl that everyone hated in college,”
Shea laughs, “I would’ve liked her in college.”
“What about your persona?” Sasha asks.
“Shea Coulee is equal parts bourgie and banji. She can be nice, but if you try her, you dead.” Shea says.
Sasha raises an eyebrow jokingly, “Better be careful around her then.”
Shea leans forward and beams, “Don’t worry, she likes you already.”
The two end up talking so much that by noon, they both feel like they’ve known each other for years.
After the brunch, they walk endlessly in town, discussing even more random topics.
Sasha can’t help but feel so impressed by Shea’s academic records. Having graduated from Juilliard School on a scholarship, Shea then went on to earn an MFA in fashion design all the way in London before coming back and starting her drag career as well as a fashion line that he marketed alone on social media. And he’s only 28. Two years younger than him.
“I barely survived three years studying graphic design,” Sasha has expressed, “I don’t know how you did all of that.”
Shea just giggles, “I come from a military home. My dad spent most of his life at the army. I was raised to excel at everything. I had no choice.”
Even though he’s smiling, Sasha can sense his tone change when talking about his family.
And not in a good way.
“What does your family think of-” Sasha starts off before quickly cutting himself off, “Fuck, I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry.”
But Shea doesn’t seem to be bothered by his unfinished question, “think of my sexuality? My drag?”
Sasha just nods.
“Well, they’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m gay, but it’s the drag that’s hard for them to accept.” Shea admits, his face suddenly no longer glowing under the sunshine.
Sasha feels horrible, but he doesn’t say anything.
“What about you?” Shea asks, maybe trying to change the topic.
“I’m an only child, and my mom died a long time ago when I was 8 years old. So it’s always just been me and my dad. And he’s, well, he’s actually cool with everything that I do.” Sasha confesses.
Shea smiles the warmest smile that Sasha has ever seen, “I’m glad he is.”
——————–
Weeks pass by, and Sasha makes sure to meet up with Shea every single day. If not every day, then they’ll text and FaceTime or at least tag each other in memes.
Point is, they become so inseparable in such a short amount of time that Sasha can’t even wrap his head around it.
He doesn’t tell anyone. Not his friends. Not his father.
He keeps Shea as his little secret. His favourite secret that he can cherish and enjoy without having the opinions of other people ruin it.
Because they will ruin it if they find out.
How will they not protest when Shea has a boyfriend?
He has a boyfriend of two years, and he doesn’t seem to let him go any time soon.
Sasha is very aware of that, but he’s also aware of how happy he feels when he’s with Shea. How young and powerful and beautiful he feels around him.
This stranger that quickly changed his life, and made him chase the slightest hope, the lowest possibility.
That maybe. Just maybe, they will somehow find a way.
Nothing has happened, and Sasha’s logical side tells him nothing will ever happen.
They are just friends.
Two people who connected.
They picked each other, and decided that they would do things together and talk about stuff.
Nothing wrong with that, Sasha tries to convince himself.
Shea rarely mentions his boyfriend.
Sometimes, Sasha feels like he’s using him as an escape from the relationship, but then Shea says something funny or strange, and Sasha is smitten all over again.
“Is it weird to call you my best friend when I’ve only known you for three months?” Shea has once questioned, as they ate ice cream and watched an episode of the X-Files.
Sasha remembers having no answer, to which Shea just shrugs and says, “Eh, I think it’s not weird at all. Hey, can we watch another episode?”
Shea is so random and spontaneous. Maybe his spontaneity is the reason why they decide to dress in drag and go to a ‘straight bar’.
“Let’s see how many straight guys we get to fool,” Shea smirks as they help each other pick the ‘fishiest outfits’.
Of course no one will be fooled.
When they enter the bar, the atmosphere suddenly changes as every pair of eyes looks then up and down.
Two glamazonian bitches with faces beat to the gods.
The straights are confused, but they mostly just ignore them.
Shea isn’t impressed.
“How come they’re not gushing all over us?” She pouts.
“I told you not to overdo it with this ugly ass blue eyeshadow,” Sasha jokes, chuckling.
Shea glares at her, taking a sip from her drink before shoving her gently and giggling.
“This place is boring anyway. Let’s go somewhere where we can be appreciated.” Shea says as she gets up and grabs her purse.
Sasha remembers having this sudden feeling that life is perfect in that moment as she joins Shea and walks towards the exit.
They stand outside laughing and recounting the dull events of the night as they share a joint.
Everything seems so peaceful.
Sasha leans against the alleyway wall and closes her eyes, smiling when she’s finally hit by euphoria.
She opens her eyes only to witness Shea staring at her with the most dreamy gaze she’s ever seen.
And in the jumble of the moment, she suddenly doesn’t mind grabbing and kissing her.
And that’s what she does.
Kissing Shea doesn’t feel magical, Sasha realises.
Because magic is an overrated word.
Instead.
Kissing her feels home.
It feels warm and fuzzy and soothing.
It feels right.
As Shea wraps her arms around Sasha’s neck, bringing her closer, the blonde queen wants nothing else from the world but for it to stop.
But then, something happens.
The world doesn’t stop.
Instead, the world pushes them to the wall so aggressively that Sasha’s head starts spinning.
The world punches them both till they bleed, and the world kicks the shit out of them as they scream.
Sasha can barely see in the blur of the moment, but the world seems to be a group of people.
Or devils.
What’s the difference anyway?
For a split second, Sasha wonders if this is payback for feeling happy.
Maybe that’s how the world works to balance itself out.
If you’re too happy, you have to suffer, because nothing is free.
One second, they are having the time of their lives.
The next, they are lying on the ground, begging whoever is beating them to stop.
But they won’t stop.
They keep their hits and knocks until Sasha can no longer scream, and words are suddenly a foreign concept in her foggy brain.
Is that how death feels like? She wonders before closing her eyes.
The last thing she does is use the remaining bit of her energy to hold Shea’s bloody hand on the dirty ground.
She doesn’t recall what happens next.
Sirens.
Lights.
Random dreams and nightmares.
Hospital smells.
Sasha hates hospital smells.
But he’s not in a hospital.
He’s in a yellow field.
The sky is purple.
And he can see Shea running away.
He tries to stop him.
But his hands are tied to something.
He looks down, and it’s a hospital bed.
Then, he dazes off again.
And again.
And again.
He doesn’t recall how long it takes before he finally regains full consciousness.
The doctor says it’s been 4 days, but Sasha believes it’s more like four weeks.
His dad is there.
All he can think about is how scared his father must have been.
“I’m sorry,” he tries to say but only a whisper escapes his dry lips.
His dad just holds his hand and gently shushes him.
He realises that his entire body is hurting. They tell him he’s lucky, because nothing is severely broken.
Just a twisted angle and a fractured left arm.
His art arm.
His heart hurts even more.
Not in the physical sense.
He is still trying to remember what happened.
He can only recall the sound of shoes hitting his sides, and Shea’s.
Shea.
He just wants to know if he’s okay.
But everyone is ignoring the question. Or just giving him standard answers like ‘don’t worry, everything is going to be fine’.
The police come over to take a statement, but it’s pointless because he doesn’t remember much. There were no witnesses or surveillance cameras. So Sasha makes peace with the fact that they might never catch them. Despite how frustrating that it, he finds himself caring about one person: Shea. And one thing: his safety.
Aja visits. He cries a lot, and curses the crap out of whoever did it.
More friends come to see him, but his mind can only think of Shea.
He finally breaks down, and tries to leave his bed.
That’s when his dad looks him in the eyes, “I swear to you, he is fine. Almost in the same state as you are, but in another room.”
Well, if they’re in the same state, that means he’s not fine. It means he’s in as much pain as Sasha.
And that’s not 'fine’.
“You can see him in a couple days, I’ll make sure of that. But for now, you need to focus on recovery.” The doctor ensures a few hours later.
He asks for a mirror.
He doesn’t know why, but he wants to see his face.
So they bring him a small hand mirror, and he finally cries.
It’s not that his face looks horrible.
In a way, it looks okay for someone who got beat up pretty badly.
So much blue and purple around his eyes, significantly more around his left eye.
Swelling around on his lips, and a small cut on his chin.
He’s wearing a hospital gown, but he can sense that bruises on his body are worse.
But that’s also not why he cries.
He cries, because he trusted the world for once. He let go and enjoined a beautiful moment.
What did he get in return?
This.
This whole damn mess.
————–
They finally let Sasha see Shea.
He is better now. His ankle still hurts but he manages to walk with a cane, the nurse helping him make it all the way down the cold bluish hallway.
Even though it only takes less than five minutes to reach Shea’s room, Sasha feels like it’s taking five hours instead.
His feet can’t carry him fast enough.
His heart is pounding so much that he almost gets insecure thinking that the nurse can probably hear it just as loud as he can.
His throat is tingling with imaginary butterflies.
He doesn’t remember much from the incident but he remembers exactly what happened prior.
Shea’s lips on his.
Lipstick colours mixing together.
Hands floating around, grasping each other for dear life.
The moan that escaped Shea’s lips when their tongues met.
The details are so vivid that he has to touch his lips just to make sure this is real life and that he’s not kissing Shea in this very moment.
When he first goes into the room, his vision gets blurry, and he feels lightheaded as the nurse helps him step further inside.
He can’t recognise anything or anyone-turns out, there are at least 3 people in Shea’s room- inside.
But he doesn’t care.
His eyes quickly scan the place, trying to locate Shea.
And then, it happens.
There he is.
Sitting on the bed, his back leaned against the white headboard.
His face looks just as bruised and swollen as Sasha’s, maybe even more.
He is wearing a full cast around his left leg.
Sasha’s heart sinks, but then Shea lifts his head and smiles the brightest smile.
Suddenly, nothing else really matters.
Sasha moves as quickly as he can, and when he gets to the bed, the first thing he does is reach for Shea’s hand.
“I missed you so much,” he manages to say before his eyes tear up.
“I missed you too,” Shea continues to smile as he squeezes his hand gently, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry for you leg,” Sasha says.
Shea, still smiling, just shrugs, “Don’t apologise for something that’s not your fault,”
He finally manages to look up at the people standing around the bed.
An elderly couple and a young man.
“These are my parents,” Shea introduces, “and This is my boyfriend Samuel,”
“This is Sasha, my lovely friend who was also attacked that night.”
Boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
The word keeps repeating itself in his head.
Sasha smiles, and says hi.
He gets involved in small talk.
He grins, and laughs, and chats with the parents. With the boyfriend.
The boyfriend seems nice.
He’s tall, handsome, and articulate.
He pays attention to Shea and caters to his smallest needs like bringing water or changing the pillow position under his broken leg.
The parents seem to love him.
The dad keeps his arm wrapped around his shoulders, and the mom doesn’t stop praising him.
Sasha is happy for Shea.
He is glad he has someone he can rely on.
Oh bullshit.
He isn’t happy.
Well, maybe slightly.
But he’s more jealous.
He’s more furious that he trusted Shea, and somehow allowed himself to be baited by him.
But he can’t show it.
He can’t even talk to Shea about the kiss; something he was looking forward to do.
Glancing at Shea, he can see a look of slight remorse in his eyes, like he is apologising for what they have done, for what they haven’t done.
Sasha feels so upset that his bruises and fractures start hurting.
But no one in the room knows the real reason why as the nurse escorts him out, all the way down the same hallway.
His heart is still beating fast, but this time it’s because he’s sad. He’s broken.
And those throat butterflies?
They’ve turned into snakes wrapping around his neck and slowly strangling him.
His tears silently begin to stream down before they even make it back to his room.
The nurse notices and assumes it’s because of the physical pain he’s in.
She proceeds to give him a good dose of pain killers that Sasha doesn’t mind because it put him to sleep.
He forgets about Shea for a few hours.
When he wakes up though, it all comes back and hits him so hard he starts weeping again.
But this time he’s not alone.
This time his friend Aja is by his side.
Aja forces him to speak up.
And Sasha, being in his desperate state, goes on an hour ramble about how he’s in love with someone who’s in love with someone else.
“That’s fucked up, sis,” Aja says, “Do you think he’ll just pretend the kiss never happened?”
“For all I know, he might not have even remembered it. I don’t know, and I just don’t want to care anymore.” Sasha sighs in frustration.
“But you do care sis, and that’s okay. You just need some distractions. I promise you once you get out of here, you’re gonna get so much dick you’ll forget all about this guy.” Aja comforts.
And Sasha just nods even though deep down he knows that it’s not going to be as easy as Aja describes.
Sasha doesn’t go back to Shea’s room after that.
And Shea never comes to his.
They never text or call, and Sasha understands that Shea gets it. He gets that this whole thing needs to end.
Maybe that attack was a sign that they shouldn’t mess around. That Samuel is a good guy. That Shea should stay with him.
Sasha spends the remaining few days in the room either sleeping or catching up on Brooklyn drag gossip with Aja. He even designs a few looks on his sketchbook as a way to keep his brain cells busy enough not to remember Shea.
And it almost works.
Almost.
——————-
The first few weeks after leaving the hospital are weird.
Sasha’s father insists on staying over for a while to take care of him, especially that his ankle is still injured.
Sasha tries his best to forget Shea’s face, but it’s engraved onto the walls of his brain.
He reads books, and binge watches all the films he has avoided for years.
He catches up on his graphic design commissions, and tries to pick some new songs for his drag performances.
One night, he even convinces his dad to let him venture into Brooklyn with Aja and the rest of his friends. His dad is skeptical given that his fractures haven’t fully healed yet, but Sasha goes out anyway.
This time, he doesn’t let any drunk drag queen fall into his arm.
Instead, he goes to some random guy’s place, and they fuck.
It’s not sweet or romantic and it only happens when alcohol is present.
But Sasha doesn’t care.
He loses his mind in the moment, and he doesn’t care.
But when it all finishes, and he goes back home, all he can see between his eyes is Shea.
So he smokes a joint, and goes to bed.
It happens again with a different guy weeks later.
And then another one.
And many more that he can’t recall.
Sasha would lie if he said the hook ups didn’t help him forget about Shea a bit.
They did.
But in the back of his head, Shea’s smile is still there.
He learns to live with it eventually.
His dad leaves, ans he’s fully recovered now.
He goes back to his daily routine.
He’s working on more graphic design projects than ever, and his drag performances are making a buzz in the Brooklyn scene.
Things are just about to be good.
This is supposed to be one of his greatest performances in a famous Brooklyn drag queen.
One summer night.
Sasha Velour performing to Kate Bush’s Love and Anger.
She’s putting her heart and soul on the floor.
And when she’s done, hearing everyone’s applause, she feels at home.
She belongs.
She walks backstage, because she needs to get ready for the second and last performance of the night.
No one is in the dressing room.
She closes the door, and sits down on the worn out couch.
She looks at herself in a handheld mirror, and smiles.
She is finally free from some of the pain.
But it doesn’t last long, because what happens next takes her back to the moment that her heart broke to a million pieces.
Sasha can’t remember the details.
Shea, in drag, is suddenly in the room with her.
Does Shea knock?
Does she just walk in?
Does she sit next to her?
Or does she just stand there when she gives her speech?
It goes something along the lines of apologising and confessing an undying love. Something about no longer having a boyfriend.
“Please give me a chance,” Shea begs.
Sasha doesn’t know what happens next.
Maybe she just gets up and runs outside.
Maybe she takes a cab all the way back to her place.
Maybe that’s why she’s on her bed, crying silently in the dark.
It’s been months since the hospital.
Sasha has wanted this to happen for so long that she eventually had to let it go.
But then Shea came back, and now she’s lost and confused again.
She ignores everyone for a day, but then she gets up, and decides to face reality.
So he texts Shea, and arranges a coffee date.
Not a date.
But rather, a meet up to talk things through.
Shea might have been cruel enough to leave for a long time, but Sasha can’t do it.
After casual hellos and life updates, Sasha admits that he doesn’t know who Shea is anymore.
“I don’t even know who i'am anymore, to be honest.” He adds.
Everything has changed.
“Then let’s get to know each other all over again,” Shea suggests, reaching over to place his hand on top of Sasha’s hand on the table.
Sasha doesn’t move his hand.
“And what if it doesn’t work out?” Sasha asks.
His heart is beginning to play a very familiar beat, but he’s still unsure. Still hesitant.
“Then at least we tried, right?” Shea smiles.
That one smile.
The smile that brightens an entire room in a matter of seconds.
And just like that, Sasha decides to smile back.
He decides to go out with Shea again. And again. And again.
They go on many walks, and share French baguette sandwiches.
They listen to music together, and talk about their childhood.
Some nights, they stay up texting each other until sunrise.
Sasha notices the differences this time.
Shea is more open now.
He’s more loving, and caring.
And Sasha is no longer afraid of losing him.
They kiss, for the first- technically second- time randomly as they try to cook pasta one Sunday noon at Shea’s place.
And this time they’re not interrupted by anything or anyone.
They kiss, and make out, and make love.
As they lay in bed gasping for air, Shea looks at Sasha and whispers, “I’m in love with you.”
Sasha smiles, “i know,”
He grabs him for a soft tired kiss, “And I’m in love with you.”
“I know,” Shea grins.
#shea coulee#sasha velour#sashea#au#fluff#hurt/comfort#tw homophobic attack#tw language#tw substance abuse#wordsmithmaybe#rpdr fanfiction#submission#queen au
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On love, lust, and other feelings (Sashea) - wordsmithmaybe
A/N: Hey:) This is my first time submitting anything on this blog, but I have my own blog where I have been posting rpdr fanfictions for a while now (wordsmithmaybe). I’m obsessed with lesbian sashea so I couldn’t help but write this 7k au fanfic!! I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if you want a sequel x
(sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. I’m slightly dyslexic, but i tried my best to proof read)
P,S This story is inspired by my own experiences. I’m not trying to offend anyone or their religion.
Sasha opens her eyes.
She takes a deep breath.
She doesn’t want to get out of bed, but she lost the option of sleeping in the moment she had agreed to marry the man next to her.
Arnold isn’t so bad.
He is a nice guy.
He loves her.
He buys flowers every Sunday, and takes her to the mall where they would eat ice cream and talk about how Mr and Mrs Simons, their neighbours, should stop arguing in the front yard.
Sasha would smile, and Arnold would tell her that she has the most beautiful smile in the world.
Arnold never left the state. He didn’t see many women smile, but Sasha would always believe every word he said, because if she didn’t believe him, she would start questioning things, and questioning things was dangerous.
She has a good life.
So she would wake up every morning despite not wanting to.
She would kiss Arnold good morning, and make him breakfast.
When he goes to work, she would take a shower, do her hair, and makeup, put on one of her nice dresses, and cook, clean, and occasionally go to afternoon tea meet ups with the neighbourhood wives.
When Arnold comes back, she cooks him dinner like the perfect wife she is.
They would kiss, and make love.
When he kisses her, Sasha closes her eyes, and drifts apart.
When they have sex, she doesn’t move.
She learned not to question anything ever since she was 13, and believed her best friend in a summer dress was the most beautiful thing in the world. She wanted to caress her cheeks, and touch her neck.
She learned to stop questioning things, because next time she went to church, the priest talked about men, women, and marriage.
Her mom told her that one day she would make an amazing wife.
She told her she would make a man very happy in the future.
Sasha has lived the same day every day for too long.
Until one summer evening.
She looks out the window, just casually.
Waiting for Arnold to come home from work.
That’s when she notices the woman in the balcony, in the house next to them.
That’s the empty house.
No one lived there since Mr and Mrs. Simons got divorced.
The woman is sitting on a chair, typing away on a laptop, surrounded by many books.
Sasha wonders what she is working on.
She is fascinated for a second, but before she gets to think about the woman’s beautiful long black hair, and dark skin, Arnold comes in.
He hugs her from behind, placing a kiss on her shoulder.
Of course.
Sasha suddenly remembers where and who she is.
That night she fights the urge to look out the widow again.
Just one glimpse.
Couldn’t hurt, could it?
But when she looks, the woman is no longer there.
The balcony is empty.
Sasha sighs and wonders why she feels a weird sad lump in her chest.
That night she doesn’t fall asleep early, and for the first time since they got married a year ago, she doesn’t make Arnold his usual breakfast.
And she sleeps in.
Something she has never done before.
It’s not that she doesn’t wake up. She actually hears her husband get up, but that sad lump keeps her in bed, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.
She stays in bed even after she hears the front door close behind him when he leaves for work.
Maybe it’s been five minutes, or five hours, Sasha can’t really tell.
She hears the door bell ring, and she wants to ignore it.
She wants to pretend she isn’t home.
It’s probably some sales person.
She isn’t in the mood to purchase any stainless cooking pans or vacuum cleaners.
She just wants to sleep.
But the ringing doesn’t stop.
As pissed off as she is, she quickly puts on a robe, and goes downstairs.
She opens the door.
No makeup, blond hair in a bun, and she’s yawning.
But it’s not a sales person.
It’s not Arnold either.
Or a friend.
It’s the balcony woman.
She’s standing there in her high waisted blue jeans and strapless purple crop top. She has her long her pulled into a ponytail.
All these details are forever engraved in Sasha’s memory as she gawks, speechless.
She goes into a trance, and when the darker woman smiles, Sasha is sure that she has the most beautiful smile she’s ever seen.
Arnold wasn’t right.
Maybe he should see this smile, she thinks in her head.
But she’s not jealous.
She’s not mad that he lied.
She’s just so stunned.
She feels a sense of pleasure take over her body, because she’s able to see and appreciate beauty, something she hasn’t been allowed to do since the girl in the pink summer dress.
“Did you hear me?” The darker woman’s voice interrupts her trance.
She is back to reality.
It seems that the woman has been trying to talk to her for a few seconds.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Sasha doesn’t even know how she manages to speak.
The stranger smirks, and suddenly, Sasha feels self conscious. She remembers she must look really bad given that she’s just woken up. She hasn’t even washed her face. She probably has bad morning breath.
“I said, hey I’m your new neighbour.” The woman repeats, still smirking. She seems very confident.
Sasha is fascinated and intimidated.
“Oh, hi. Welcome to the neighbourhood. I hope you and your husband enjoy it.”
She doesn’t realise what she’s said until the woman starts laughing.
“I’m not married. I’m just here for a few months, doing a research on suburban living here in Vermont for my PhD.” She explains, “I’m actually from Chicago,”
“Oh wow, that sounds…cool.”
Sasha wants to throw herself off of a cliff, she knows how stupid and naive she sounds, and she can’t even stop herself.
“I’m Shea by the way. What’s your name?”
Shea is staring right into Sasha’s eyes. She’s not smiling or laughing anymore.
She has the most intense eyes, and Sasha, once again, finds herself in a trance.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s Sasha.” She says like she’s under hypnosis.
“That’s a very sexy name.” Shea says casually.
Sasha is shocked, “what?!” She exclaims in confusion.
“I said, do you have the maintenance guy’s phone number. My plumbing is bad, and my fridge isn’t working. That’s why I came here. To ask for help.” Shea says, and Sasha can still feel her cheeks burn.
She swallows the lump in her throat that keeps getting bigger and bigger, “Hm,, Yeah yeah, just a second let me get it for you.”
She grabs her phone, and finds the number. She hands the phone to Shea.
“I’m going text myself the number,” she does that, and Sasha jut watches, “and now you have my number on your phone.” She smiles and gives her the phone back.
Sasha just stands there.
“Aren’t you going to take your phone back?”
She finally snaps out of it, and grabs her phone quickly.
“Alright, I’ll see you around I guess.” Shea says before she walks away.
“I think Shea is a sexy name,” Sasha whispers, mostly to herself as she closes the front door.
She doesn’t know what just happened, but she wants it to happen every morning.
When Sasha finally goes back to the living room, she realises something inside her has awakened. She looks at her phone.
She is one text away from Shea.
One phone call away.
One glance away.
A glance towards that balcony.
For the next few days, all Sasha does is wait for Arnold to go to work, so she can go up to her bedroom, and stare out the window, shamelessly waiting for Shea to come out, and smile at her.
But she never does.
The balcony is empty every day.
The weather has been nice, so Sasha doesn’t understand why Shea refuses to go out to the balcony.
The more time passes by without seeing Shea’s face, the more irritated and moody Sasha becomes.
She’s never tough with Arnold, but during this week, she’s had two pointless fights with him.
She doesn’t understand what’s going on with her.
She doesn’t know Shea.
She’s only met her once.
Why is she obsessed?
Then it happens.
It’s a simple text.
“Do you want to come over? I know that you’re always staring at my balcony ;)”
Sasha’s heart has never beaten faster.
She feels a weird sense of happiness that she’s not very familiar with.
She stops what she’s doing in the kitchen, and she goes upstairs.
She needs to change.
Looking in her closet, she doesn’t know what to wear.
She wants to look as good as possible.
She wants to look beautiful for Shea, and despite how silly that sounds, she wants to impress her.
She finally settles on a short black dress that’s covered in red flowers, she puts on mascara, and perfect red lipstick. She pushes her long curly blond hair all in a messy bun, revealing her neck and collar bones. She sprays her favourite rose perfume all over herself, and wears her vintage red high heels that she’s only ever worn twice.
As she walks to the house, she feels weirdly calm, numb almost.
When she gets to the door, that’s when the nerves hit. Hard.
She feels sick.
She wants to walk back and forget this ever happened.
What am I doing? She thinks. This is wrong.
She remembers Arnold, and the church, and her mother.
But her body is telling her a different story.
Every cell craves the touch of Shea. A touch Sasha has yet to experience, but she’s already missing.
She stands there, frozen.
Lost between what her body wants all the internal voices.
Even though she and Shea never discussed what would happen, Sasha knows once she steps inside there is no going back.
She knows exactly what she’s feeling. And she is pretty sure Shea feels the same.
Before she can make a decision, the door opens.
Shea is standing there in a black satin slip and a white silk kimono, her black hair falling in waves over her shoulders.
And coincidentally, she also has red lipstick on.
Sasha can’t help but admire everything about Shea.
She is rendered speechless.
“I thought I would get comfortable for you.” Shea winks, and Sasha suddenly feels that her legs are about to turn into mush. She can barely stand anymore.
“Come on in.”
Shea leads the way to the couch in the middle of a very empty living room.
They sit next to each other, surrounded by dislocated furniture pieces, and random boxes.
“Sorry, I haven’t really brought any major furniture since I’m not staying here for too long,”
“That makes sense.” Sasha blurts out rigidly. She realises that she’s very nervous.
Shea chuckles, “do you drink?”
“Sometimes.” Sasha replies, not daring to keep eye contact with Shea.
She secretly curses herself for not being confident.
She realises she’s not even sitting comfortably, her palms placed weirdly on her knees.
Shea smiles warmly at her before getting up and grabbing a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses.
She pours some wine for both of them, and hands one glass to Sasha.
Sasha takes a big gulp, which causes Shea to chuckle even more.
“Wow you really need to relax.” She says teasingly.
As the wine makes its way down her throat, Sasha starts to feel a bit relaxed, and she looks around, spotting something that steals her attention.
“You have a vinyl player?” She says, excitement sparkles in her eyes.
“Yeah, I’m a sucker for vintage shit.” Shea giggles, “do you like vinyls?”
Sasha looks at her, and, for the first time, she’s not nervous anymore, “Yeah, my dad used to play vinyl records at home all the time. It reminds me of him.”
Shea smiles, “Does he still have vinyls?”
Sasha’s face changes a bit, and the smiles fades, “he passed away 2 years ago. My mom gave all his stuff to charity shops.”
“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Shea is interrupted by Sasha, “It’s okay, i made peace with his passing.”
Shea smiles at her, and Sasha’s heart flutters. She realises that no one has ever smiled at her with so much admiration and warmth the way Shea is smiling.
“Can you play something?” She asks.
“Of course,” Shea says.
She plays “I put a spell on you” by Nina Simone.
Sasha closes her eyes and sits back against the couch, enjoying the tones.
She doesn’t open her eyes until Shea speaks up next to her.
“Do you know that you’re so beautiful?” Shea says softly, almost a whisper.
Sasha opens her eyes, she can feel the blush burning on her cheeks.
“And do you know that you’re beautiful as well?” She replies, her breathing already fastening.
They just look at each other, admiring every feature, but choosing not to touch anything. Just staring, inches apart. Savouring the glances as the music plays around them.
“Have you ever been with a woman?” Shea asks.
“No, and I’ve only been with one man. My husband.” She answers, feeling a bit insecure over her lack of experience.
Shea just stares at her.
“What about you?” She asks, hoping to break the silence.
“I dated both, but I’m more into women to be frank.” She spills, “especially women who look like you.” She smirks, slowly reaching over and caressing Sasha’s cheek.
Sasha’s shyness and insecurity suddenly turns into lust and desire. She can’t help but melt under Shea’s touch.
This is the first time their skins meet each other, but she feels like this is the most familiar and natural feeling. She feels at home.
“Kiss me.” Sasha doesn’t even know how she musters the course to utter these two words, words she has never even said to her husband.
Shea slowly leans in, and when their lips meet Sasha realises she’s been dead.
She’s finally revived.
It’s barely a peck on the lips at first, but Sasha feels like her entire body has been electrified. When Shea pulls away for half a second, Sasha pulls her back in right away and kisses her with all the passion that she has.
Kissing turns into sucking and biting, and running hands all over each other’s bodies. Their heavy breaths are now moans and begs.
“This dress needs to come off.” Shea demands, breaking off the kiss, her kimono already hanging at her arms. She throws it away, leaving only the satin short nightgown.
Sasha has never been more turned on in her life, and she’s never been more comfortable being submissive. She takes off her dress quickly as Shea watches, revealing her lace red bralette and matching panties.
Shea stares at her, she doesn’t say anything.
Sasha begins to feel a bit insecure all over again, and the first thing that crosses her mind is that maybe Shea doesn’t think her body is attractive. After all, she doesn’t have a perfect figure.
“What are you thinking about?” She asks, she can’t help but sound a bit scared of the response. She’s too eager to know. She has to know.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with.” Shea whispers, her eyes darkening with lust.
“My boobs are small and-”
“Shhh.”
Shea stops her from continuing.
“Can you please stand up and spin around slowly for me?” Shea asks.
Sasha does just that. She wants nothing but to be hers.
Shea stops her mid spin, and runs her fingers across her inner thighs, her stomach, her butt.
“Can you strip for me, baby?” Shea begs.
Sasha bites her bottom lip. She’s never stripped for anyone before. She slowly takes off her bralette first, looking straight into Shea’s eyes. Then, she proceeds to take off her panties, one leg at a time. She releases her curls and let them stream on her shoulders and back.
She’s suddenly there fully naked, sucking on her thumb nervously, and looking at Shea.
Shea finally stands up, and steps closer towards Sasha.
“Take your clothes off. I want to see you.” Sasha says. She’s not even in control of herself anymore.
Shea takes off her nightgown, and to Sasha’s surprise, she’s not wearing anything underneath. No bra. No panties.
Sasha smiles in satisfaction, falling in love with the perfect shape of Shea’s toned body and flawless skin. She has bigger boobs and butt than Sasha, and she’s way more curvier, but Sasha doesn’t compare herself to Shea. She just feels like the luckiest woman in the world to be able to see her naked.
They start kissing again, then Shea pushes Sasha gently down on the couch, taking control.
“I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.” She says.
Sasha closes her eyes, enjoying the sensations of Shea’s mouth around her nipples.
“You have the cutest boobs,” she whispers as she pinches her nipples and sucks on them.
Sasha has never felt any of these feelings. Arnold was never this good. She has never felt this sexy.
Shea begins to place small kisses on Sasha’s neck then slowly trails more kisses down her belly, then on her inner thighs.
Sasha can’t take it anymore. The throbbing between her legs keeps getting stronger, and stronger.
She moans, Feeling Shea’s breath so close to her clit.
“Beg me,” Shea teases.
“Please, please, please. I need you.” Sasha pleads. She’s about to reach down with her own hand when Shea stops her and buries her head between her legs.
It doesn’t take long for Sasha to start thrusting herself into Shea’s face. At the back of her mind, she’s still in shock, she can’t believe what’s happening. But her bodily desire has taken over, and she has no option but to submit to its command.
When she finally orgasms into Shea’s face, all she can whisper between one heavy breath and another is, “where were you all my life?”
Shea lifts her head, and smirks, licking her lips, and tasting the remains of Sasha on them.
“What now? Your husband never ate your pussy?” Shea jokes as she lays next to her on the couch, staring at her from the side.
Sasha’s heart suddenly drops, as she remembers her life. She gets back to her senses from that post bliss heaven, and she realises that she has cheated on Arnold.
She is a cheater.
She gets up quickly, and starts gathering her clothes and putting them on quickly. Tears begin to form in her eyes.
“What did I say? Why are you leaving?”
Shea gets up, and tries to stop her by grabbing her shoulders, but Sasha pushes away.
“What the fuck? It’s not that big of a deal!” Shea exclaims, angrily this time.
Sasha looks at her, and she suddenly feels stupid for trusting her, for being inside her house, for letting her doing whatever that she did to her.
“Of course it’s not a big deal to you!” She yells as she fetches her high heels from under the coffee table, “You don’t give a fuck about morals or family values. You’re a slut! And you want me to be just like you! Dirty and alone!”
The moment that she’s done talking, Sasha knows she fucked up. She knows that she wasn’t supposed to say any of those hurtful things, and she is well aware that she’s just reflecting her own insecurities, and the terrible beliefs she was raised on.
She gets up, and looks at Shea.
Shea doesn’t say anything. She just smiles and shakes her head, but Sasha can see her eyes reddening. She’s about to cry.
“Get the fuck out of my house. Just fucking leave.” Shea orders calmly. She seems so cold that Sasha feels terrified for a second.
Sasha contemplates apologising, but she realises how pointless it is.
Shea hates her now.
Her heart breaks as she walks out that door, thinking it’s probably the last time she’ll get to spend time with Shea.
She wants to slap herself for being utterly heartless, for dumping all her issues and troubles on an innocent person who didn’t force her into anything.
The next few days are a blur.
Sasha doesn’t leave her bed, lost between her guilt for what she’s willingly done behind her husband’s back, and her yearning for Shea’s body, the body she never got to properly please before her breakdown.
She pretends to be sick, and Arnold spends the whole week taking care of, bringing her food and movies to watch.
Every time she sees his face, she remembers Shea, and breaks even more.
She’s torn between two worlds.
One where she has a perfect home, a perfect husband, and a good life.
And one where she has nothing except the passion and desire she’s never experienced before.
Spending so much time in bed gives her the chance to contemplate on her marriage.
She discovers that she’s never been in love with Arnold.
In fact, she’s never been in love with any man before.
She’s never felt attraction towards men.
And after what happened with Shea, she is now more aware than ever that she prefers women.
But what is she meant to do?
Drop everything and become a completely different person?
She’s more than certain that by just admitting her gayness to herself, she’s at risk of losing everything.
Her marriage.
Her home.
Her family.
Her friends.
How can they accept her when she knows for a fact that they all collectively think homosexuality is a terrible disease?
But how can she be sick when she’s never felt better than she did when she had Shea between her legs?
How can God “curse” her but make her curse the most beautiful thing she’s ever experienced?
She turns to sleep when she can’t answer any of these questions.
One week turns into three turns into a month.
At this point, her family and friends have come to visit.
They all want to know why she’s not herself when in reality she’s never been more true to herself.
At some point something clicks, and as an attempt to eliminate everyone’s constant attention, she gets up, and starts her normal life again.
She cooks, and cleans, and has sex with her husband.
She wanders around, pretending that everything is normal when in reality she’s dying on the inside.
She’s crumbling.
She’s drained.
One night, she sneaks out of bed, leaving her sleeping husband behind.
She goes to the bathroom, and stares at herself in the mirror.
Long messy blond hair.
Tired face sleepy face.
Baggy eyes.
The pain is too much, and the constant confusion is even worse.
She wants to see someone else in the mirror staring right back at her.
Someone stronger, and less dazed.
That’s when it happens.
She’s too numb to even feel herself pick up Arnold’s shaver.
She doesn’t realise what’s going on until her hair starts falling into the sink.
It finally hits her, and tears begin to stream down her pale cheeks. But she doesn’t turn off the shaver.
She doesn’t move her hand.
She keeps going until there is no sight of any hair left on her head.
She’s shaking.
She’s terrified to look up.
When she finally looks at her reflection, she feels something different.
She’s not scared anymore.
She’s not weak.
She smiles, and wipes her tears away.
Sasha has never felt more free in her life, so as part of her freedom, she decides to listen to her heart, her mind, her body.
She quickly puts on a jackets and the closest shoes to her eyesight before going downstairs, and going out the front door.
It’s raining, but she doesn’t care.
She walks to the house next door, and quickly rings the bell.
It’s past 3AM, but Sasha knows if she doesn’t do this now, she might not have the same courage the next day.
And she is not willing to risk this amazing new sense of liberation.
When Shea opens the door, Sasha’s first instinct was to jump into her arms and kiss her. She follows that instinct.
Only to be pushed away.
Shea looks shocked.
She’s not saying anything.
Sasha stands still under the rain, also shocked.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shea finally asks.
Realising that this is her last chance at redemption, Sasha takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just so stupid and dumb, and it’s okay if you hate me, but I just want you to know that I’m done with this fake life. From now on, I’m going to be myself.” She rambles, “and if you’re wondering, I don’t know why I shaved my head, but fuck, I never felt better.”
Sasha stands there after her mini speech, soaking in the rain.
“Just come in, you’re going to get sick.” Shea states indifferently before stepping aside, letting Sasha walks in slowly. She is insure.
Has Shea forgiven her?
Was it really that easy?
Shea is still silent. She leads Sasha upstairs, and into a bedroom, her bedroom.
She opens the closet, and grabs some clothes and a towel.
“Put these on.” Shea orders, “The bathroom is there,” She points towards a door next to the closet.
Sasha, once again, finds herself following Shea’s orders. She goes into the bathroom, and strips naked. She dries herself with the pink vanilla scented towel, staring at herself in the mirror. For a moment, she has forgotten that her long luscious hair is gone. She vividly remembers her mother telling her that long hair defined a woman’s femininity, and that she was never to cut it. Let alone fully shave it.
But somehow, those words that were once extremely powerful mean nothing.
She doesn’t care.
She doesn’t feel anything.
It’s numbness towards everything.
When she leaves the bathroom wearing Shea’s black shirt and red sweatpants, she is faced by the dark skinned woman sitting on the bed.
“Are you feeling better?” Shea asks.
Sasha can see compassion in her eyes, but she can’t pinpoint the forgiveness she’s hoping for.
She feels even worse.
“I’m fine.” She says.
But her body tells another story. A chill runs down her spine, and that’s when she knows she’s catching a cold.
Fuck, she says under her breath.
It only takes a few seconds for her to start coughing.
“You’re getting sick.” Shea states as a matter of fact.
“No, I’m fine.” She lies.
Damn that rain.
“I’ll make you some lemon and ginger tea.” Shea gets up, “Take this bed, I’ll sleep in the living room.”
“No,” Sasha begins to protest before another fit of coughing takes over, “It’s fine, I’ll just go home.”
Shea rolls her eyes, “You came to me in the middle of the night. Let’s stop pretending that you want to go home.” Shea’s tone is something Sasha can’t really analyse. She is not sure whether Shea wants her there or not, whether she’s still mad or has already forgiven her.
So she just stays silent.
When Shea comes back with the tea, that’s when Sasha is overwhelmed with a weird sense.
“No one has ever made me tea when I was sick. Except my mother,” she blurts out, “And now you.”
Shea doesn’t say anything. She just looks at her, and for a fracture of a second Sasha swears she sees sympathy in her dark brown eyes, and she hates herself for it. She hates that Shea probably feels sorry for her. She hates that she’s become so vulnerable.
“Right, well enjoy your tea. I’m going to bed.” Shea says, in that same indifferent tone.
When Shea exits the room, she lays down in bed. She stares at the ceiling, thinking about everything that’s happened.
Thinking about Shea.
Thinking about her husband.
Has he woken up by now?
Has he seen the hair remains in the bathroom?
Has he noticed her absence yet?
So many questions that no amount of rolling and turning in bed can answer.
Eventually, she gives up on the idea of falling asleep.
She continues her staring contest with the unbothered ceiling.
She realises that she hasn’t even touched the tea, and that it has gone cold now, but she doesn’t care.
She feels a tiny bit nauseous, and unable to consider the idea of drinking anything.
And she knows these are cold symptoms.
Maybe that’s why she’s sweating like a pig despite the cold air in the room coming from the window.
And maybe that’s why she finds it so hard to gather her thoughts and make a decision
Morning light is only a couple hours away, and by sunrise she has to figure everything out.
She doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly she drifts off.
When Sasha opens her eyes again, the sun has not only come out, but it has shifted its position. It looks like it’s already past noon.
She jumps out of bed suddenly aware of her surroundings, only to see Shea sitting next to the bed on a chair reading some random fashion magazine.
“You’re awake,” She says, placing the magazine on the nightstand.
Sasha’s heart is beating so fast, and it’s not because of how beautiful Shea looks in her yellow short summer dress.
She tries to get out bed, but is stopped by Shea.
“You had a fever all morning, just rest.” Shea says softly.
Everything makes sense to Sasha now, her sweaty body, her fast heartbeat, and the awful headache she’s experiencing.
She lays back in bed, wincing.
“I made sure you took some cold medicine but you probably don’t remember due to the fever,” Shea reassures.
“So you’ve been watching me sleep?” Sasha questions with as much amusement as she can muster given her current state.
“Well, you kind of begged me to stay in the room so…” Shea trails off, raising one eyebrow at Sasha.
Sasha doesn’t remember. Of course she doesn’t.
That damn fever.
She can feel her cheeks turning more red by the second, but she’s aware there is nothing she can do to stop them so she just sighs quietly.
“Thank you for taking care of me, I really appreciate it.” Sasha tries to hide her embarrassment, but she still can’t look Shea in the eye.
This whole night has been one embarrassing train wreck after another, and at this point, she just wants to disappear.
There is an intimidating silence before Shea speaks up, “it’s fine, I like taking care of you,”
Sasha can’t believe her eyes so she looks at Shea who stares back.
When Shea smiles warmly, Sasha’s heart flutters so much that she becomes convinced it’s going to break out of her rib cage.
She wouldn’t mind giving up her heart if it’s meant Shea would keep smiling at her.
Before Sasha manages to smile back or say anything, Shea moves to the bed and sits next to her, placing Sasha’s head in her lap.
At this point, Sasha is certain she’s in a dream, a damn good one.
When Shea begins caressing her face gently, Sasha closes her eyes involuntarily as the most amazing sensation of peace and relaxation takes over her whole body.
If it’s a dream, she has no interest in waking up.
“I accept your apology,” Shea admits as she continues running her fingers softly on Sasha’s face, “And I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch to you.”
Hearing Shea’s words, Sasha feels the same sense of joy and freedom she felt when they kissed for the first time.
Suddenly, nothing seems to matter more than the woman whose lap she’s made home.
How did it happen so fast? She doesn’t care anymore.
At this moment, Sasha can no longer deny her feelings.
She doesn’t know how it happens, but she gets up, and quickly pulls Shea in for a kiss on the lips.
She is so overwhelmed, and she can barely breathe.
But then, she remembers she’s got a cold, and pulls away quickly.
“Shit, I shouldn’t have kissed you!” She exclaims, “I don’t want you to get sick,”
Shea just laughs at the scared pale face of Sasha.
“Let’s be sick and miserable together then,” Shea grins before leaning in and kissing Sasha.
But Shea doesn’t get sick, and Sasha magically feels better that same night.
The concept of time seems to disappear for a while.
Sasha and Shea spend the next two days in a heavenly haze.
All they do is cook together, watch vintage films, and parade around in Shea’s silky robes. They also talk, a lot.
Sasha finds herself telling Shea things she’s never told anyone before. They both share their secrets, fantasies, dreams, and fears.
Sasha discovers that she enjoys learning new things about Shea.
She enjoys finding out about Shea’s life in Chicago.
How she has a love for social studies as well as fashion.
How she worked in social care.
She can’t even remember the last time she stepped out of the front door, but somehow she doesn’t miss the outside world.
She’s happy being in this human made paradise that she created with Shea.
Deep down, she knows it she will have to face life soon enough, but for now, she doesn’t mind ignoring the world and sinking deeper in her dream like new reality.
She doesn’t know what will happen, but she is more sure than anything that she no longer wants the same life she’s had for the last 29 years.
She doesn’t want a husband or a house. She doesn’t want flowery dresses or long blonde hair.
She wants to explore, she wants to love.
Love Shea.
Looking at the younger woman sitting next to her on the bed, she can’t help but wonder if she feels the same.
Sasha knows Shea likes her, but what she doesn’t know is whether she likes her enough to want to be with her in an actual relationship, not just a crazy affair.
Shea is eating popcorn, eyes fixated on the black and white Audrey Hepburn film playing on the laptop screen.
Sasha’s gaze doesn’t leave Shea as she drowns in her thoughts.
It doesn’t take long for Shea to notice the stare, she looks at Sasha and smiles.
“What are you thinking about?” Shea asks innocently, pausing the film.
“You,” Sasha doesn’t hesitate with her response.
She likes her new found boldness.
Shea slowly brings her hand up to Sasha’s face, and touches her cheek delicately.
Sasha leans against Shea’s warm palm nuzzling it like a cat.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” Shea says, she moves closer and brings Sasha in for a side embrace, “I’m leaving this place in two weeks,”
Of course she is, Sasha’s heart begins to physically hurt. She moves herself away from Shea’s embrace, and wraps her arms around her knees, hugging them instead.
“You must be very excited to go back to your life in Chicago.” Sasha knows she sounds petty, but she can’t help it.
“What are you going to do?” Shea asks,
Sasha’s heart hurts even more that she starts to question whether she’s having a heart attack, “I don’t know what I’m going to do,”
Shea moves closer, and holds Sasha’s hand, “Why don’t you come with me?”
Sasha’s head turns so quickly towards Shea, eyes wide open, as she stares at her lover.
“I’m assuming you don’t want to spend the rest of your life married to him, and living in this town, do you?” Shea’s words are softly spoken, but they cut straight to the chaste. Sasha is surprised by her audacity, but at the same time she appreciates it.
“Of course not,” Sasha agrees.
“Then come with me to Chicago. I’ll help you find who you are.” Shea offers with the warmest smile.
‘Who you are’.
Somehow these three simple words bring Sasha to a soft sob.
She’s almost 30 years old, and she has no career of her own, no source of income, no stable identity.
She feels embarrassed.
Ashamed.
She buries her face in her palms, and allows her tears to stream down her naked cheeks.
Shea doesn’t say anything, and Sasha is grateful that she’s allowed to express her tragedy.
When it seems like there are no tears left in her eyes, Sasha looks up at Shea.
“I’m so scared.” She confesses.
Shea just pulls her in for a hug that turns into a passionate kiss when Sasha feels the need for more.
Her urge intensifies as she pushes Shea down on bed.
“Stay like this,” she says, breathless from the makeout session.
All she wants is to focus on Shea.
Shea’s lusty gawk is her approval.
She quickly removes Shea’s shirt and sweat pants, leaving her in that bright pink bra and lace panties.
“Being this beautiful,” Sasha takes in the fabulous sight, “How is that possible?”
“Can I-” She trails off.
Shea just nods so quickly, unable to talk.
It turns Sasha even more.
She slowly runs her fingers across Shea’s chest all the way down to her inner thighs. She, then, undoes the bra with Shea’s help.
She smiles, biting her lips as the sight of Shea’s perky breasts pleases her.
This is not the first time she’s seen them, but it feels special.
Sasha feels more like herself.
Sasha is no longer afraid or ashamed.
“You can touch them if you want,” Shea suggests, she’s grinning seductively.
Sasha’s smile gradually disappears and is replaced by an awe look.
She reaches over and places her palm awkwardly on one breast.
Shea chuckles, and Sasha suddenly feels nervous. It hits her that she hasn’t really done this properly before.
“I haven’t really tried this before you know,” Sasha explains, her hand still on Shea’s breast.
“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby.” Shea reassures.
“No!” Sasha quickly exclaims,“ I just…I don’t want you to laugh at me, because-”
Shea doesn’t let her finish before grabbing her hand from her breast and leading it into her panties.
Sasha is frozen as her fingers meet the soft skin of Shea’s.
“Touch me,” Shea orders, so softly it’s barely audible.
Sasha nervously does what she’s asked
She is shocked by how wet Shea is.
“This is what you do to me,” Shea confesses, “I want you, and I’m so fucking attracted to you. So don’t you dare think I wouldn’t take you seriously.”
Something changes inside Sasha hearing Shea’s words. It’s like, every single insecurity she’s had fades away. She looks into Shea’s eyes before leaning in for a passionate kiss.
It doesn’t take long for Sasha to begin placing kisses all over Shea’s body, claiming it as hers. She sucks on her nipples, then proudly leaves red and purple love bites on her neck.
Shea moans and begs, leading Sasha to realise she’s never experienced this feeling before.
She’s both in and out of control.
She’s dominating Shea, but also submitting to her perfectly sculpted body.
As she makes her way down Shea’s body, she is hit by one thing.
She wants to do this every day for the rest of her life.
Sasha has never seen another woman’s vagina so up close, and she has barely anything to compare, but somehow she can swear Shea is the most beautiful down there as she is everywhere else on her body.
“I love this,” Sasha whispers, not shying away from the view as Shea spreads her legs even further.
“It’s all yours,” Shea offers, lust and desperation for release written all over her face.
It only takes only look at Shea to make Sasha bury her face between her lover’s legs.
She has never done anything remotely similar, but it all feels natural.
Whether it’s the licking or the fingering, she masters it all in a matter of minutes, leaving Shea a hot shaking mess in the best way possible.
When Shea finally cums, Sasha feels a strange type of satisfaction.
She feels confident, desirable.
She feels loved.
“I have no words,” Shea manages to let out between breaths as she recovers to a normal state.
The glowing smile on her face gives Sasha all the approval she needs.
She lays next to Shea, and wraps her leg around her naked torso, bringing her closer.
They stare at each other for a few seconds before Shea begins to shuffle, trying to get up.
“Let me love you back,” She requests, trying to reach inside Sasha’s sweatpants.
Sasha stops her, “Tonight, I just want to look at you.”
—–
Two weeks later, Sasha is back to her place.
She finds herself greeted by her mother, in laws, and husband.
She doesn’t say anything as everyone stares at her in crystal clear shock.
“We had to file a missing person’s report.” Her mother finally speaks, her voice breaking between the sobs she’s allowing to escape her mouth.
“Are you okay? Did someone harm you?” Her husband follows. The man she’s never seen cry has so much tears in his eyes that they’ve turned red.
He looks so miserable that for a second Sasha thinks about dropping her plan, and just going back to her past life.
But then, Shea’s face reappears in her mind, and she realises that she’s done playing a role.
She has made a decision for herself this time.
She has chosen to prioritise her feelings and happiness over anyone who tries to box her inside a cave and force her to be someone she will never be able to embrace.
She is no longer Sasha the housewife.
She’s Sasha, the person who is tired of living an illusion.
She made a plan to go to Chicago with Shea.
She doesn’t know what’s waiting for her there, but she’s willing to take the risk, because the other available option includes dying without having lived.
“I’m sorry,” She says before rushing upstairs.
Angry and fast footsteps follow her to the bedroom.
4 pair of eyes watch as she quickly grabs a small suitcase and packs some stuff.
She is not taking everything, because she doesn’t want any reminders of this, of any of it.
She closes the suitcase, and then looks up.
Seeing the tears stream down her mother cheeks sends a stabbing sensation in her heart.
No matter how fucked up things are, she still loves her mom.
She will always love her.
She hugs the weeping mother, and quickly whispers, “I will visit and I will call, I promise. I just have to get away now.”
When she pulls away from the hug, she is faced by a desperate Arnold, seeking answers.
“I’m filing for divorce,” She announces, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it anymore.”
Arnold doesn’t utter a single word.
She leaves the room carrying her suitcase, and once again, they all follow her outside.
Shea is waiting by the car.
Sasha rushes into hey arms, and sobs.
“It’ll be okay,” Shea comforts.
“I know,” Sasha nods, wiping her tears, and giving her a kiss on the lips, well aware that her husband, mother, and everyone else standing outside is watching.
She looks back at them one final time.
No word can describe the trauma written on their faces.
Sasha gets into the car, and Shea drives away.
As they listen to the radio, Sasha looks out the car window, and she realises that for the first time in her life, she’s the one controlling the pieces of her existence.
She’s free.
#sasha velour#shea coulee#sashea#lesbian au#fluff#smut#angst#tw homophobia#rpdr fanfiction#submission#wordsmithmaybe#s9
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Coward ( Sashea ) - wordsmithmaybe
A/N: wordsmithmaybe is back with another sashea fic :) Thank you all for liking my last submission <3 I hope you enjoy this one just as much!!!
(Kind of an AU, but not really? Set after the reunion)
Sasha is furious.
No.
Scratch that.
She isn’t mad.
She is simply heartbroken, and it hurts like a motherfucker.
Shea is coming for her in this damn reunion, throwing one shade after the other.
Knowing her long enough, Sasha can tell it isn’t the fun type of shade.
This one is mean.
This one is meant to burn.
It doesn’t take a genius to feel the tension between the two of them.
Sasha tries to stay professional, and not mirror whatever Shea is doing, but every time she looks at her, the insides of her body twist and she feels nauseous. She can see a very specific type of disdain in Shea’s eyes, and it renders her speechless.
Yes, things aren’t perfect.
Things haven’t been perfect since they came back from their isolation last summer after filming the show.
In fact, they only had one month of pure happiness before it all went to shit.
And it was the best month in Sasha’s life.
To Shea’s defense, it wasn’t her that drifted away.
It wasn’t her that stopped answering texts and calls.
It wasn’t her that suggested an end to everything, to whatever they had.
And Sasha couldn’t blame her for the way she had been acting.
But Sasha only ran away because she was scared.
She was scared because for the first time she found herself focused on nothing but Shea’s smile, the way she smelled every morning when she cuddled her, her giggles and loud laughter.
She couldn’t carry on like that.
She needed to concentrate on her goal.
She needed to get ready for when the show began airing.
She had talked to Shea weeks before the first episode came out though.
And they had both agreed to forget their short lived affair, and be friendly again for the sake of the viewers.
They knew, due the challenges on the show, people were going to love them together, and they didn’t want to ruin the illusion.
And it worked.
It worked so well that Sasha truly felt close to Shea again.
They began talking regularly, and they got to know each other way better than they did on the show.
What was just for the fans ended up empowering their own friendship.
Sasha started to feel like she was back in that workroom, eyes landing on Shea for the first time, falling in love and lust with a stranger.
But the difference?
There was no more sneaking around to fuck the living hell out of each other.
There were no “smoke” breaks that turned into full on make out sessions in closed storage rooms.
There was no subtle hand holding, no winking.
It almost happened.
Just a month before the reunion, they had already started touring with queens from previous seasons.
London specifically seemed to bring out the tipsy happy go lucky side in both of them.
It was an innocent night out.
They had both wanted to explore the magic of Camden Town, and Shorditch before somehow ending up in Tower Bridge, drinking beer and looking at the sleepy city.
It was past 1AM, and the bridge was so extremely calm, too calm.
Sasha couldn’t believe a city as large as London could fall into this silence at night, but at the same time she loved the comfort it brought.
She loved the feeling of being there alone with Shea.
Nothing was meant to happen.
Just two friends enjoying life.
But then a small hand touch, turned into a peck, turned into a deep kiss, and before they knew it, they had returned to the hotel.
They had gone up to Sasha’s room.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe it was just the fact that they had missed each other like crazy.
Things got out of control, but then Sasha somehow returned to her senses.
She pushed Shea away, and apologised.
She couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t risk everything.
But when Shea had left, embarrassed, Sasha cried.
She knew it was dumb.
She knew she didn’t care what anyone thought.
She knew she just wanted to be with Shea, but the feelings were too strong to handle.
She couldn’t deal with them.
It all led to this reunion.
To Shea acting like Sasha was her enemy.
To her reading Sasha to filth.
Sasha doesn’t say anything.
She remains quiet.
But when filming is over, she realises that she can’t let it go.
Something inside pushes her to run after Shea and drag her by the arm into an empty coat room, and shuts the door behind them.
“What the fuck is up with you?!” Shea yells as she claims her arm back from Sasha’s grasp.
If Sasha wasn’t mad earlier, she is definitely mad now.
“What the fuck is up with me?!” Sasha exclaims, “What about you, miss Coulee?! How dare you come for me like that?!”
At this point Shea just glares, running her tongue all over her front teeth.
“Why so quiet now?” Sasha insists. Her blood feels like it’s boiling.
“You could have read me back, but you didn’t, you know why?” Shea is oddly calm now, “Because you’re a fucking coward.”
Sasha can’t believe her ears.
“I’m not a fucking coward!” She shouts, knowing too well that she’s only getting angrier because she’s aware Shea has hit a sensitive chord.
She agrees.
Shea is right.
She is a coward.
She’s a coward who’s too afraid of happiness, too afraid of having it all.
She’s a coward who has always run away from love, because love can fuck you up in the most unimaginable way.
But love can also build you up and lift you to the clouds, it can give you a reason to open your eyes in morning and face every asshole with a grin.
Loving Shea.
She has loved her for too long to ignore it now.
She just looks at her, mind racing with all the possibilities.
So what if it ends badly?
So what if it affects her career?
So what if they don’t last forever?
Sasha wants the present and she wants Shea in it.
As she drowns deep in her thoughts, Shea says something.
“Prove it,” her voice sounds like a faded dream, “Prove that you’re not a coward, Sasha.”
Even though it’s dark in the room, Sasha still sees Shea’s eyes sparkle.
They sparkle with hope, maybe longing.
Whatever it is, it breaks the last straw.
Sasha passionately pushes Shea against one of the walls.
The sparkle in her eyes grows brighter, and Sasha takes that as approval.
She leans in and locks their mouths together, too quickly for any of them to rethink or run away.
No more running away.
As their lipsticks mix together, all Sasha tastes is the desire inside both of them.
Sasha moves from Shea’s mouth to her jaw, to her neck, sucking, kissing, licking.
Shea’s moans only drive her wilder.
All she wants is to be inside her.
Good thing she hasn’t tucked; no one would have noticed the difference anyway because of her reunion look.
She accidentally stabs Shea in the chin with her wig; she is too frustrated with it so she rapidly takes it off.
She kneels down and reaches under Shea’s dress, pulling down her tights.
To her surprise, Shea hasn’t tucked either. She’s only wearing a brief.
She looks up at Shea, and smiles.
Shea smirks, “What? I wanted to make it easy for you to suck my dick.”
Of course that’s not the reason Shea hasn’t tucked, but Sasha is grateful anyway.
She pulls down her brief, freeing her already erect penis.
She doesn’t waste time before she puts the whole thing in her mouth.
She goes all the way in, deep throating, her other hand tickling Shea’s balls.
Not long after, Shea begins thrusting herself even deeper into Sasha’s mouth.
Then she pulls away fast, painting.
“I don’t want to cum now, I need you inside me please,” She begs.
Hearing those words, Sasha realises just how hard she is.
But then she’s reminded by the logistics of things, “We don’t have a condom or lube,”
The last thing she wants is for Shea to get hurt in any shape or form.
Sasha knows she’s clean, but better safe than sorry.
Shea swiftly grabs the small hand bag she’s had on her. It fell to the ground when they started kissing.
“I have both these things,” She announces, fetching them from her bag.
Sasha is confused and surprised by how lucky they both are, but at the same time she just wants to snatch that condom and be inside Shea already.
“I planned to go out with a few friends right after filming the reunion, and I wanted to make sure I was safe in case I went home with someone,” She explains.
“That’s fine,” Sasha pulls her in for a deep kiss before taking the condom from her hand.
She gets rid of the bottom part of her outfit, and removes her underwear. She, then, quickly rolls the condom down over her length.
In the meantime, Shea has already prepped herself with lube.
She stands against the wall, her back to Sasha, legs spread, ready for her.
Despite the faint lighting in the small room, Sasha can’t help but admire her beauty. She just looks at her in awe.
Shea turns around, seeming impatient.
Sasha just smiles, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Shea smirks, “can you fuck me though?”
Sasha doesn’t need any more encouragement to move closer to Shea and wrap her arms around her from behind.
She slowly enters her, causing both of them to groan at the contact.
When she’s fully in, she places a soft kiss on Shea’s ear, whispering, “All good?”
“Fuck yeah,” Shea whispers back, turning around just a tiny bit for their mouth to meet.
They share an open mouth kiss as Sasha begins her rhythmic movement, reaching over and pumping Shea’s penis at the same time.
They don’t say much when they’re riding their orgasms, but when they both cum and collectively decide to lie on the floor to enjoy the aftermath, Shea looks at Sasha, and says, “I don’t want this to stop,”
Sasha warmly smiles, pulling her in for a side embrace.
“It won’t.”
#sasha velour#shea coulee#sashea#smut#hurt/comfort#tw cursing#wordsmithmaybe#rpdr fanfiction#submission#canon compliant#s9
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Wordsmithmaybe did it again: my heart is broken but my Sashea soul is uplifted. Interlude was just so beautiful and raw!!!
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Interlude was so good?? Tysm?
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hey hi i love wordsmithmaybe now and forever
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Spoky's fic was SO good. I was preparing myself for a sad ending because of Sasha's narrative, but I'm so thankful it wasn't. The Trixya was heartbreaking! Awesome. May's fic was also great and I can't wait to see how it progresses, the characterization is so good, the setting... I loved it. Wordswithmaybe, I can't not read your Sasheas and as usual you didn't disappoint, that was so cute! So lovely! And Veronica's, I love that kind of fic! I felt for Willam :( the sashea was CUTE! The Biadore!
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Wordswithmaybe, you did it again. You broke my heart and put it back together and I loved every moment of it. I firmly believe you can do no wrong, you could write Sashea watching paint dry and I'd live for every word, every paragraph of that. Thank yew 💕
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Is not like I was about to cry with both Sashea's yestarday, nor did I read them several times. They were so awesome, Emily, Nothing Special was just so sweet! And wordsmithmaybe, I was so hooked with the story, I loved every second of it
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We've been blessed by the gods with two Sashea fics on today, Im happy
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I JUST READ 12K+ WORDS IN LITTLE OVER HALF AN HOUR AND I CANT BELIEVE HOW GOOD OF A FIC THE MELLOW PAD IS. I mean, I was completely hooked from the very beggining (Ive read a lot of fics with Sasha as the married one, appreciated the change) and then submerge in this heartbreaking love story about two woman falling in love and cherishing each other? I need a second part to this, there is so much I HAVE to know.
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