Type : F/F
Paring : Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, side Roxy Lalonde/Jane Crocker
AU : Humanstuck, No Sburb, also they're older I guess, and in college, but its not a college au.
Characters : Kanaya Maryam, Rose Lalonde, kinda Roxy Lalonde and Jane Crocker
Rating : PG (for kissing, underwear, and really tiny innuendo I couldn't resist [honestly I'm bad at this rating stuff but whatever])
Warnings : Mentions of alcoholism
Wordcount : 3578
Notes : okay, first fic, let's see how that goes. i feel like this is kinda ooc but i'm terrible at characterization sooooo. i guess. tell me what ya think.
The day you meet, you can't stop staring at her. She wears a pencil skirt and a button up shirt. Her hair is nearly white and her lips are black, and her eyes, God, they stare right through you, and a shade of magenta you can't tear your eyes away from. She's petite, slight in all senses of the word, but her presence radiates.
She notices, of course, she always notices or she wouldn't be Rose Lalonde. Her lips quirk up, and you stare at those too, before quickly turning away. You're usually composed exterior seems to make way for a blushing and slightly starstruck mess.
She strides up to you, her heels clicking against the tiled floor and extends her hand. You stare at it, her fingers are long and thin, before carefully wrapping yours around it. Her skin is even more pale in contrast to yours. You think you could get used to the sight.
She introduces herself, her voice is soft and smooth, and you respond easily in your sharp and eloquent accent. You've got heavy tomes lining your shelf that you wouldn't mind hearing her read, even the dullest words seem to come to life on her tongue.
She smiles at you, the left side of her mouth turning upwards in an infuriatingly mysterious manner. It almost seems like a smirk.
Her gaze pierces yours, and flitters across your features before moving the length of your body. When they come back up, you smile more confidently. You designed the dress yourself, you explain. You are positive it is beautiful. She seems to agree, as she asks you if you sell anything.
The answer is negative, you're still in school. But you can't help yourself when you offer to put something together for her someday. She intrigues you, to say the least, and the way she looks and moves sparks your muse.
The way her eyebrow raises the slightest bit is enough to make you feel more than pleased with yourself. She tells you that she'll hold you to that. You sincerely hope she does.
She calls you a week later, asks if you'd like to meet her for coffee. You say yes, of course. You hope you don't sound too eager.
When you walk into the shop, she sits waiting at a small table for two with a leather bound notebook and a pen between her lips. Her forehead in slightly wrinkled and she stares intently at the page. Her dress is black as her lips. You stare at her from the entrance as long as you can get away with before wandering over.
You introduce yourself with a small hello and settle into the seat opposed to hers, tucking your long limbs underneath the table. Your knees knock against hers, and you try not to dwell on it. When you shake hands, it lingers a little longer than necessary. You're not sure who's fault that is, so you try not to dwell on that either.
She orders black coffee and you order herbal tea. You both sip at your white cups, and you notice her nails painted the same colors as the rest of her attire, wrapped around the steaming mug. You complement her on it, and the smile she sends you back makes your skin spark. It's unusual and you kind of like it.
The conversation comes easily. She talks about writing, you learn she's studying to become a writer. You talk about fashion design, and you ramble a little bit and get carried away. When you apologize, she tells you you look wonderful when you talk about things you love. You stare at her and can't help the grin that splits across your features. In return her smile gets wider, and you try not to think about how content you would be to sit here and watch her for the rest of your life.
She hugs you goodbye.
That night you lay still underneath your sheets, and you think about her smile, her lips, her fingers and how warm she felt pressed against you, even for a split second. You smile at the ceiling again, and in a moment of adrenaline, text her goodnight. You fall asleep clutching your phone, as she answers just the same.
You meet regularly after that, and she's on your mind an embarrassingly large amount of time. You space out in class thinking about her lopsided smirks and prick yourself on needles more than a few times after thinking highly inappropriate things about her fingers. It's gotten out of control, and when she calls you up to ask about, maybe, possibly talking about you making her a dress for her sister's wedding, you accept right away and invite her over so you can take her measurements and discuss the project more.
At first, you awkwardly ask her if she would rather do the measuring parts herself, but she firmly believes that you should do it. She wants it to be just right, she says.
You blush behind your fingers as she strips down to her underwear in your kitchen, and turn your back to recollect yourself. After a pinch to the thigh and a reminder to be professional, you spin back around. She stares at you expectantly, eyes still fluttering about your face in the same way as always, like she's always reading every minute change of expression. You figure she is.
You wonder what she sees.
Her skin is pale, but she has strange freckles on her shoulders and knees. Her skin is warm, and you try as best you can to keep your hands at a reasonable distance, which is hard for several reasons you'd rather not divulge. Every once in a while, your knuckles will brush against her, and her skin is soft. You try not to notice, but blush furiously under her seemingly inescapable gaze. You thank your dark skin for disguising what has become a habit around Rose.
You scrawl the numbers out on your forearm and step back when you're finished. Her underwear is black and lacy and stark against her tint, and your breath catches in your throat because, God, she's beautiful. Her hair is tied back into a low short ponytail and she stands straight, despite her small stature, she fills the room with a ethereal glow and she smells of lavender. And she's looking at you.
You turn back around, tell her you'll make them both some tea, your heart spluttering in your ribcage. You think she winks at you, but can't tell because your mind is in no state to think of anything. The kettles boils quickly and by the time you walk back out, she sits clothed with her hands clasped on top of the table.
You offer her a cup and she wraps her hands around it again. She tells you about her sister Roxy with a faint smile that lingers more in her eyes, and her wonderful fiancé Jane. The wedding is outdoors, in two months. She wants something nice, she says, but she trusts you. That makes you smile.
You talk until the sun sits just above the skyline, and she bids her goodbye with a hug again, as always, but this time her hand lingers on your shoulder as she pulls away. Even through the fabric, her touch burns, and her gaze burns even more. There's something alight behind the wondrous color, and she whispers a quiet thank you. It means more than she says.
But next thing you know she's out your door. This time she definitely winks at you.
The visit does nothing to diminish your thoughts.
You sketch until your hand is stained in charcoal, and then you sew until it cramps up.
The dress is white lace with sleeves halfway down the forearms and stops just above the knee. You take the liberty of picking out a pair of flats to match and you invite Rose over excitedly as soon as you're done.
She tries on the dress and it fits like a glove, an expression you never understood because most gloves never quite fit right. Still, the expression she wears is one words could never describe and she twirls in your hall mirror in something you made with a grin on her face you put there. She breathes a thank you, and your lungs tighten with the look she sends your way.
Then she blinks a few times, and you stand in your poorly light hallway staring at each other before she slides over to you and takes both your hands in hers lightly.
She asks you to come to Roxy's wedding. You stare at her uselessly for a few seconds, brain catching up before your mouth opens and you respond with an 'I'd love to' that doesn't even come close to describe how thankful you are.
You wrap your arms around her narrow shoulders and press your lips to her temple. Everything is amazing and she's warm and solid against you, her hands flat against your back.
You think you might be in love.
The wedding rolls around a week later. Rose shows up at your apartment early in the morning so you can get ready together. That alone is enough to make your day.
Your dress is floral and thin strapped. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't tweaked it to match hers.
She arrives barefaced and with a gentle knock on the door that resonates through your silent apartment. You're still in your pajamas, short choppy hair a wild mess and eyes still blinking from waking up. As you wander over, you hope you don't look as bad as you think, or that maybe she won't notice.
Her hair is pulled back and her skin is pink. She smiles at you again and you feel so important to be at the receiving end of so many of those.
You invite her in and make tea and coffee for the both of you. Maybe its impulse again, but you see her sitting calmly at your kitchen table and ask if you can do her makeup. She flicks her eyes over to yours, and responds by saying she trusts you. Your body hums again, and you can't stop staring.
When you're done, she sits across from you on your bathroom floor, various vials and tubes and sticks spread around you. You squint at her, worrying your lip, for a minute, evaluating what to do. She stares at you the whole time, and finally your hands fly to your left and grab a tube of mascara.
You lean in slightly, adjusting your legs to rest on either side of her. Her eyes track your every move and you hold your breath, hands just above her skin. She says she can do it, if you would like. And you tell her it needs to be just right, before winking and leaning back in. You keep your bottom lip caught between your teeth in concentration.
You swear you see her cheeks get brighter, and she averts her eyes to her clasped hands. You smirk at her, and the balance has been restored.
When you're done, you close the door behind you and let her slip into her dress. You had kept her face pretty bare : a thin layer of powder foundation, a touch of mascara and some lightly pink tinted lip balm. You would have left the latter bare, as in your opinion the slight rosy color and the softness was just right, but had given in upon her request.
She strides out fully clothed, hair held back by a band the color of her eyes. She smiles at you, then at her reflection. Seeing her so happy in something you created makes your heart skip.
She says her face feels naked. You say she looks beyond beautiful. You swear you see her blush again.
You make quick work of getting yourself ready. She complements you and you thank her, before hoping into her small car and setting of towards the ceremony, about an hour away.
You talk easily the whole way, and you might sing along to a few songs that pass on the radio. You step out of the car happy, an emotion that had been increasing in frequency since you had met her. You can't complain.
The setup is breathtaking. It's on the seaside, the water rolls in waves against the bottom of the cliff, the tables and altar set upon the top. There are white garlands hanging from the pale wooden structure and fabric draped across the top to keep the guests out of the sun. The flowers on every round table are a mix of bright, flashy pink and a softer blue, with small candles set around.
You express your admiration to Rose, and she admits her sister always had a penchant for extravagance. You find your places while the area is still calm and soon after everyone is seated and the ceremony starts.
They each walk down the aisle, Roxy with her mother, and Jane with what appears to be her brother. You send Rose a questioning glace, but she says she'll explain later.
The vows are a joy, and the master of ceremony doesn't speak much. The Lalonde's dress is short and strapless, she herself is tall, thin, and sharp, and she bobs up and down excitedly the whole time, a radiant smile directed at her soon to be wife the whole time.
Jane is much calmer, short, round, and soft, with a more traditional dress and a subdued smile. She blushes at the vows and speaks hers more slowly than the other's rapid fire. It's soon over with a slightly too passionate kiss on Roxy's part and a hearty round of applause.
Rose introduces me to them shortly after, when the reception starts and the people disperse. They are wonderful people and I'm glad to know my friend can call them family. They are also incredibly well suited for each other, and all throughout the conversation their hands are woven together and their eyes meet in lulls between words. The smiles on their faces are impossible to keep off and the unadulterated joy that radiates from them is inescapable.
Roxy soon pulls the brunette away and calls over excitedly to another friend she spots in the distance. Rose suggests we take a walk and you can't agree more, as loud noisy crowds are neither of your cups of tea.
You wander off to the other end of the small cliff overlooking the ocean, about a five minute stroll. The distance between you, starting of at a good three feet slowly shortens, to the point were every step you take, your arm brush. You can't complain.
By the time you get to the edge of the grass, the sun is setting on the water, and the view is almost as nice as its reflection on her features. She turns to you and comments on how beautiful it is, and you nod because there is nothing else to say. Her eyes flicker around you again, and the look of uncertainty that comes over her face is nerve wracking. Rose Lalonde never gets nervous.
She turns back towards the view but you keep your eyes on her, and your heart nearly leaps out of my chest when you feel her fingers knot through yours. She keeps her gaze ahead, and you turn your eyes to face the same way. Her fingers are cold and you wrap yours around them. It takes all of your willpower not to tumble to the ground, so you can't do much to stop the small smile from creeping up on you.
When she speaks, your eyes flick back. She tells me that they don't know who their father is. You nod because you don't know what to say. She tells you Jane's father is dead. She tells you Roxy is a recovered alcoholic, and the wedding doubles as a celebration of a year sober. You wrap your arm around her shoulder and bring her into your chest. Her voice is shaky. It scares you.
Her breaths are deep and a few minutes later, they even back out again.
She pulls back a little, and drag her hands across to your shoulders. She looks you in the eyes, and this time they don't wander, they stay fixed and your breath won't leave your lungs. She stutters out the garbled beginning of a sentence, and you're worried again. Rose Lalonde doesn't stutter either.
The light changes behind her eyes and suddenly her hand is on your cheek and she's smiling. Your brain struggles. You've always thought the both of you did a pretty good job at keeping up with each other, but this time you can't, so you just let go and let things run their course.
Her hand is still cold, but her breath on your skin feels like flames. Her thumb crosses over your cheek bone repeatedly. Your pretty sure your mouth hangs open, so you quickly close it, your lip caught between in what's become a habit. Her eyes fly down to catch the movement and her smile grows again.
She inches closer, and her hand slides again, from your cheek to around the back of your neck, fingers dancing along the edge of your hairline. If you had been breathing, it might have stuttered, but instead you just stare in astonishment. Your noses are millimeters apart, and her soft exhales make your skin hum.
You can only think of one thing in this frazzled state of mind, and her lips seem to be it.
Finally, she presses forward on her toes just a little bit more, and her eyes flutter closed when she kisses you.
She kisses you, and you can't complain.
Her lips are soft, her movements slow and deliberate. It takes a second for everything to fall into place in your mind, and as soon as it does, you don't hesitate to reciprocate.
It starts out slow, and at first you're not sure of what you're doing. But soon she has a hand tangled in your short hair and one still on your neck. You wrap your arm around her waist and tuck her in closer to you, with the other around her shoulders. By the time you run out of breath, you both part, foreheads still together. You share the air between you and soft pants escape her, lungs heaving. Your lips tingle and you stare wide eyed at her in disbelief.
She's so beautiful. She opens her eyes again to stare at you, and you smile stupidly at each other for a few minutes. You're happy, undeniably so.
You grab at your courage with both hands, and you whisper to her that you love her. Her eyes grow wide, and before you can properly asses the reaction, she's pulled you in again, and this time you don't hesitate.
Her hands tighten in your hair and you pull her even closer. She kisses faster this time, and it grows open mouthed and heavy. Next time you part, your lips feel raw and she huffs out a breathy 'I love you too.'
You don't give her much time to catch her breath.
You return to the main area in time for the food. By now the sky is dark, fairy lights and candles providing the lighting. Before the plates are passed out, Roxy jumps up and shouts that all the recipes were Jane's, so we had better like it. The latter sits next to the blonde, still smiling. The youngest Lalonde grabs your hand. You smile too.
As you eat you gradually get closer together until your shoulders brush. She's still holding your hand, and she presses the back of it to her thigh. When you dance, you dance closer together and when you talk you whisper in each others ears, warm breath and airy laughs. There's no alcohol at the wedding, and you're glad of it, because you wouldn't want any of this to be blurred or forgotten.
You escape together to the bathroom a few times, and you kiss her until your lips are raw.
By the time you get home, both of you are tired and sore. You kick off your shoes, and stumble to your bed. She falls next to you, and shuffles until you lay facing each other, legs tangled and dresses wrinkled. Her hand brushes against your face and yours meets her waist. You stare at each other until Rose falls asleep, but you can't bring yourself to want to close your eyes.
Your entire body buzzes, and you keep pinching yourself to make sure that the sight in front of you is real. And all through the night, you smile to yourself.
She tucks herself closer to you in her sleep and sets her head between your neck and shoulder, breathing deeply against your skin. You wait until the sun leaks through your window and falls on her face to finally close your eyes, the image burnt into the back of your eyelids.
You fall asleep with your arms wrapped around her, legs knotted with hers, and head resting on hers. Your breaths are quiet, and when you wake up you've only gotten closer. She stares up at you, eyes half lidded but bright as you've ever seen them.
She wishes you a good morning. You tell her you love her.
You can't complain.
heeeeey. so, I hope that wasn't too bad. i'd love to hear from y'all, whatever you have to say. i love rose soooooooo much, so figured i had to at least try to write about her. okcool. anyways, the exterior link is to a thing i read a while ago. it's super cute, rose is amodel, kanaya is an art student, i nearly broke my phone.
EDIT : ICAN'TFINDITAHHHH. if anyone knows where this thing is please tell me i need it it was beautiful. kanaya had a tea set, lived with vriska and had an art project where she had to make a dress based of rose and then she was like woah this girl is super cute and great. rose brought cake over one time and said it would go well with black tea or something please if u know what I'm talking about please tell me. it was general and completed on ao3. thanks, and sorry.
OTHER EDIT LAST ONE I PROMISE : okay i figured i should probs link at least something, i just read this super cute fic in which rose gets her lip pierced by kanaya and it's really good, go show it some love. also the author of it is hella good so ya know read the other stuff too 10/10 would recommend (especially the one where humans are like the lowest of the low in the hemospectrum). anyways, check that out, ya know, if you want. i ain't forcing you to do anything here.
anyways, i dont really know when the next update thing is gonna happen. eeeeeeeeehhhhhh, i have a bunch of ideas but never actually write them so. ya know. its probably a problem if i actually wanna write stuff. but let's just swipe that under the carpet with the other problems. out of sight. what problem?
hope you liked it, and tell me what u think. also requests and stuff if u want, I'll do it. i ought to get out of my tiny bubble comfortzone.
ok cool, bye
-catherine (wow this used to be torchwillow, then policeries, then adiostoreadore, and now roxylolonde, so i guess im just catherine of wtf is her username even what is she doing why am i reading this. good question man. get outta here. while you can.)