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expectingtofly · 3 years

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Claire Novak's (Surprisingly) Not-So-Lame Day

this fic is written for @dean-has-great-taste as part of @starrynightdeancas' gift exchange. thanks sophie for organizing this, it was a lot of fun <33 and i hope you enjoy this, gen!!

*****

How did Claire find herself joining Dean, Cas, and Jack for an excursion to the mall?

Well.

Cas had texted her yesterday, with an extreme amount of emojis and emoticons that took some time to decipher, asking if she wanted to go shopping with him, Dean, and Jack. Apparently Jack needed new clothes and they needed a gift for Eileen’s birthday coming up, and maybe they could go bowling or something afterwards.

And normally she would’ve said no way because hanging out with old guys was lame and she didn’t like little kids, but she needed an excuse to get out of Jody and Donna’s weekend plans of cleaning out the garage. Plus, Kaia needed to study for a test—she actually enjoyed school, the weirdo—and had requested no distractions.

So that’s how she found herself sitting in the back of the Impala next to a carseat, listening to one of Dean’s old cassette tapes (which wasn’t too bad, but she’d never admit it).

“What’s that?” Jack asked, stretching against his carseat straps to jab at one of the pins Claire wore on her leather jacket.

“It’s the lesbian flag,” she told him. Cas looked back at them from the front seat, smiling.

“This one?” Jack pointed to the rainbow pin on her pocket.

“It’s the pride flag.”

Jack considered that for a moment before announcing, “I want one. And this one.” He pointed to the mothman pin on her lapel, then the big-eyed, green alien. “And this one... and this one, and this one.” (Alex said she had more pins than leather on her jacket, but sue her, she liked making her clothing her own).

Jack, it seemed, also liked… unique clothing. The kid was wearing rain boots even though the sun was out and overalls with embroidered flowers. He dressed weird, there was no way around it. But so did Cas, so there was probably no hope for him, poor kid.

“Okay,” she decided. “I know where to get you some.”

Jack beamed and swung his legs. “Don’t kick the seat,” Dean told him, and Jack pouted at him.

Claire was surprised Dean even let a carseat in his precious Impala. Pulling out her phone, she asked, “Can we listen to my music?”

Dean started to respond with a “Hell no,” but Cas spoke up first, “Of course.”

Dean spluttered as Claire connected to the bluetooth connector Sam had finally convinced Dean to install. The old man didn’t realize it was the 21st century, apparently.

“I wanna listen to Gaga!” Jack said, leaning over to look at her phone.

At first she thought that was some baby talk, then she realized Jack was into pop music. Ugh. But it would annoy Dean, so...

Leaning in conspiratorially with Jack, she let him scroll through her phone and choose which song to play. When “Born This Way” started filtering through the car, Dean groaned.

“Really?” he asked, sending her a glare in the rearview mirror. Mission accomplished.

Jack clapped along and Cas turned the music up louder. “Great choice, Jack,” he said.

Dean, for all his grumbling, didn’t turn down the music, and Claire caught him glancing at Cas, who tapped his fingers on his thigh to the beat. Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile and Claire rolled her eyes. Dude was so whipped.

When they parked at the mall, Cas grabbed Jack’s hand before he could sprint across the parking lot. “You have to look both ways,” he reminded him gently, and Jack nodded.

“Claire’s gonna buy me pins,” he said, jumping onto the curb.

“Yup.” Claire pat her jacket pocket. “Good ol’ credit card fraud.”

“Woah, now,” Dean started to protest.

“You and Sam are the ones who taught me!” Claire reminded him.

“We’ll pay for them,” Cas said, opening the door to the mall. Jack skipped inside, his rain boots squeaking on the tiled floor.

“We’re doing what now?” Dean asked Cas, taking his hand. Gross.

“Come on, Jack,” Claire said, catching up to the toddler. “Let’s go get you some style.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Meet up with you guys later.”

“Have fun!” Cas called.

“Don’t get kidnapped,” Dean added.

As they distanced themselves from the old geezers, Jack grabbed her hand, and Claire startled a little. “Do you like dinosaurs?” he asked.

Someone passing by gave them a smile, and Claire realized people probably thought Jack was her younger brother. She let him hold her hand anyway. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite? Mine is the bon-ta-sore-us.” He sounded out the word carefully.

“Don’t know. What’s the one with the spiky horns?”

“Ti-ce-a-tops?”

“Yeah, that sounds cool.”

“That’s my second favorite!” He started jumping from one colored tile to the next. “And the T-Rex. That’s Dee’s favorite. And Dad likes the steg-a-sore-us.” He peered up at her. “Did you know he got to see dinosaurs? Right in front of him!”

“You know what that means, right?” He shook his head. “He’s super old. He’s basically a dinosaur himself.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “He’s a dinosaur,” he repeated in a hushed whisper.

“Yup.” Spotting Hot Topical, she headed that way. “You should tell him that.”

Inside the store, Jack let go of her hand to grab a stuffed cat. “Claire! Like yours!”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Yeah.” So, she still had the Grumpy Cat Cas had bought her. She wasn’t cruel enough to throw it away when the guy was trying so hard to make up for walking around in her dead dad’s body. Plus, the stuffed animal was kinda cute. Not that she was going to tell anyone that.

“Here ya go,” she told Jack, finding a box of pins at the register. She brought the box down to his level and Jack ran over to look inside.

“I want a Doc McStuffins pin,” he said, plunging his hand into the box.

“I don’t know if they have those.”

As they rooted through the box of pins, she heard familiar voices and looked up to see Dean and Cas walking inside.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.

“I like this store,” Cas said and Dean rolled his eyes. Among the pleather and black, Cas’ dingy old trench coat—over a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt instead of a suit—and Dean’s ratty flannel and boots only looked more ridiculous. She took it back—even Jack dressed better than them.

“You guys don’t have to be in here,” she told them.

“What, we’re too old?” Dean asked defensively.

“Yeah, actually.”

Cas poked at a toy and it squeaked. God, could they be any more embarrassing?

“Dad!” Jack called, holding out a rainbow pin. “Look, they have soo many.” Cas joined Jack in going through the pins and Claire asked Dean, giving his outfit a meaningful look,

“Was the Army Surplus store too trendy for you?”

“Did they kick you out of Sephora for buying up all the eyeliner?“ Dean shot back.

Touché. In a truce, she held out a pin with the bisexual flag. She wasn’t really sure what Dean identified as, if he even gave it any thought, but guessed it was close enough. “For you.”

Dean rolled his eyes but took it. “I’m not weighing down my jacket with this crap, though.”

“No, ‘course not, that would mean having any sort of style.”

“Can I help you with anything?” asked an employee with two nose rings and jewelry up and down their ears— so cool. Claire saw the way their eyes flicked between them, probably thinking they made a weird group, and she took a step back, trying to silently communicate that yes, she was shopping with them, but no, she was not as lame as them.

“Just looking,” Dean told them.

“I like your drawings,” Jack said and the employee looked down at their arms which were littered with tattoos.

“Thanks.”

“My dad has a drawing. It’s Enochian.”

The employee—Wren, by the name tag—looked at Cas with new respect in their eyes. “Language of the angels. Sick.”

Cas looked pleased. “Thank you. It’s come in handy more than once.”

The employee went back to looking confused and, starting to walk away, told them to call if they needed anything.

“Do you want anything?” Cas asked Claire, and Claire looked through the box. She grabbed a pentagram pin and, seeming to copy her, Jack grabbed another one, clutching several pins already in his fists.

“You like bees, right?” Claire asked Cas, spotting a “Save the Bees” pin. She held it up for him.

Cas’ eyes brightened. “That’s a wonderful message.” He glanced back at Dean and frowned. “Dean, they’re not going to bite.”

Claire looked over to see Dean shying away from a few emo teens. “Look like it,” Dean muttered, joining them. Jack lifted up his hands, asking to be hoisted up. Dean set him on his hip and Jack showed him the pins he’d selected. He held a dinosaur pin to Dean’s collar.

“Do you want one, Dee?”

“He’s too lame,” Claire piped up. Not for the first time, she noticed the healed over piercing mark on Dean’s right ear and pointed to it. “Looks like he used to be cool, though.”

“Yeah, guess so,” Dean said dryly. His hand went to his earlobe. “Pierced it myself, in high school.”

“I think you’re still cool,” Cas told him, and Claire fake-gagged, making Jack giggle.

Cas took the pins to the cash register where Wren rang them up. Dean added the bisexual flag pin and Claire threw in a pair of spiky earrings, because, hey, they were paying.

“15.36,” Wren told them, dropping the pins into a bag.

“My dad’s a dinosaur,” Jack told them, trying to see over the edge of the counter. Wren raised an eyebrow, Cas looked surprised, and Claire stifled a laugh.

“Claire, help me,” Jack said, grabbing the bag from Cas as they exited the store. Moving to the side, Claire helped him attach the pins to his overalls. A smiley face, a pride flag, a grinning Stitch, a sunflower, a dinosaur, and the pentagram. The pins clacked as Jack tugged at his overalls, trying to look at them all. Overall, a chaotic look, but it kinda matched his vibe.

“Lookin’ good,” she told him, and Jack beamed.

“I’m like you!”

Alright, she wouldn’t take it that far, but, “Yeah, close enough.”

Cas attached the “Save the Bees” pins to his trench coat pocket and it ended up crooked. Rolling her eyes, Claire said, “Let me.”

She reattached the pin and stepping back to look it over, decided, “You could actually make that coat look cool if you added more stuff to it.”

Cas looked down at himself. “Thank you.”

“Nothing’s gonna save that sweatshirt, though.” Couldn’t let his ego get too big.

“Dean said he liked it,” Cas said, glancing back at Dean, who was shooting an evil eye at Claire. He quickly wiped it off his face and draped an arm over Cas’ shoulders.

“Yeah, it’s uh… Charming.” He guided Cas away from Claire. “Don’t listen to her, she still thinks sarcasm is a personality trait.”

“Screw you, old man,” she called. Jack skipped after them and she checked her phone to see Kaia had texted her: How’s everything going? They drive you crazy yet?

They’re so weird, she texted back. Then she added, They’re not too bad.

“Come on, Jack,” she said, hurrying to catch up with him, Dean, and Cas. “Let’s go get our ears pierced.”

“Yay!” Jack cheered. He grabbed her hand and tugged her down the mall.

“Woah, woah, you’re not doing that,” Dean protested like the wet blanket he was.

“You can get yours pierced too,” Claire told him, and he faltered,

“I don’t want, we’re not—“

“You know you want to.” She let Jack lead her away and Dean called after them,

“We're never bringing you shopping again!”

Grinning, she turned to shout over her shoulder, “You know you love me!”

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #established dean/cas #claire novak #toddler jack #dadstiel #fic #spn #expectingtoflywrites #im gonna post this on ao3 as soon as i figure out a summary lol

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adorethedistance · 3 years

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City Slicker, Cowboyfriend - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, nerves, mentions of covid.

Words: 2163

Summary: You’re starting to have doubts about moving all the way to Norman until a shopping trip to Ikea turns into the meet-cute you’ve been waiting for.

A/n: This isn’t a request or one of my Valentines day fics, this is just something that I have had stuck in my head ever since Owen posted this on IG and bc I’m facing total writers block with my other pieces I cranked this one out in a few hours to get the ball rolling again. Hopefully. Enjoy this totally unproofed, fluffy madness!! (Because who doesn’t need more Owen content in their life?)

There are perks to moving and one of them is undoubtedly: shopping. For furniture, home decor, kitchen utensils, whatever! Granted, shopping alone can be tedious and, for some, like pulling teeth, thus, I’ve enlisted the help of my best friends Leila and Chelsea. I didn’t even have to bribe them to come because everyone loves getting lost in Ikea. It’s one of the best things about the human experience.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in an Ikea,” Leila says to no one in particular as we walk through the onslaught of staged bedrooms.

“What?! Are you telling me you don’t get meatballs and lawn chairs on a weekly basis?” My exaggeration makes Leila laugh as she steps into one of the display kitchens. Looking between me and Chelsea she asks,

“What would you do if I turned the handle then a jet of water sprayed out?”

“Die, I guess.”

The three of us continue through the faux house displays and past the mattresses despite Leila’s urge to jump on every single one. As we walk through the section of different lighting features, I sigh with a frown as I think about college. I changed my bachelor’s to an associate’s so I could graduate in two years. Chelsea’s parents moved out here at the end of our senior year in high school, and she moved with them to study in Norman. Leila in turn went to Arizona for an athletic physical therapy gig, leaving me to face college alone in L.A.. In the two years the three of us were apart, we missed each other more and more, and after determining which of the three states we lived in was cheapest, we packed up and headed East. Covid kind of delayed our plans. But after a few months, I picked Leila up from Arizona and together we chased open job opportunities into Norman, Oklahoma. The three of us found an apartment space to live in together and thus, we ended up in Ikea on this fine Sunday afternoon.

Snapping back into reality I see Leila standing directly under a light that’s hanging very low from the ceiling. Once standing directly underneath it, she pulls down her mask and opens her mouth, rising to her toes to eat the fixture.

“Leila, don’t you dare fellate that light bulb! You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I swear I’m practically their mom when it comes to behaving in public. Figuring they can’t hurt themselves in the college dorm section, I lead them quickly through it and into the giant furniture warehouse section. On the far wall, I see a large poster of a couple smiling brightly behind Chelsea, but I don’t bother to read the text. Leila and I spot the poster at the same time, and the imagery jogs her memory.

“Chelsea, how’s Hunter? Haven’t heard from him slash about him in like a week,” she asks about Chelsea’s boyfriend of a year.

“Oh, yeah, he tore a ligament in his wrist.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I guess he moved it wrong or something and put too much stress on the area that it just tore. He was moving hay bales into the horse stables.”

“As opposed to the chicken stables,” Leila judges under her breath, which makes me snicker as a result.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a literal cowboy,” I interject, “Like, I know we’re in Oklahoma, and he’s from Tennessee, but we saw Texas on the way out here and that’s cowboy country. Norman seems more...” I trail off in search of delicate phrasing.

“Just barely marry your cousin territory, but still downing chewing tobacco whilst driving a lifted truck?” Leila hits the nail squarely on the head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right-” Before I can continue giving my thoughts on Norman, I cut myself off at the sound of laughter behind me.

“Sorry. We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, that was just really funny.” When I turn around, I see a guy roughly our age dressed in all black with bleach-blonde hair, speaking through light, broken laughter.

“No worries,” I dismiss the apology as we pass by one another, and out from the dressers section. The three of us continue into the different sections, and come to a stop once I see we’re exactly where we need to be: dining room shit!

“Cowboy boyfriends aside- oh my gosh: cowboy boyfriends. Cowboyfriends,” I say getting lost in my new terminology. Both of my friends share a mix of laughter and gasps and my ingeniousness. “Anyway. Cowboyfriends aside, how is Avery?” I ask Leila who begins blushing madly.

“She’s really good. We were just making plans for our three year anniversary, which reminds me to tell y’all I’m flying back to Phoenix to surprise her.”

“Awwww,” I nearly tear up and the sweet image of Leila and her girlfriend reuniting, “Y’all are so cute. Both of you and your partners. You know, being the only single friend in this group has made life suck a lot. Y’all are so happy and in love and not dead inside. Honestly? Get fucked both of you.” Despite my harsh words, the three of us break into a lighthearted conglomerate of laughter.

“We’ll find you someone… eventually.” Leila pretends she also can’t hear the last part of her sentence despite being the one saying it.

“I know, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to find love in Norman. I don’t need a cowboyfriend, and we’re not gonna find a true city slicker here either.”

When I finish my statement, I see our blonde friend seems to have followed us. I observe he comes to a stop in front of another guy in a flannel with a shopping cart. The way they jump into conversation with one another parallels the animated body language Leila, Chelsey, and I share. I continue to watch their exchange as Chelsea speaks up.

“Maybe you need someone right down the middle.”

“Yeah, like a guy who drives a truck but uses it to transport Ikea furniture instead of a whole ass tree that he’ll carve into a chair.” A small laugh escapes my lips, at both Leila’s statement, and the scene ahead of Blondie pretending to strangle his friend over something. I’m snapped out of my nosy yet endeared stare as a third guy appears. He’s a sandy blonde with billowing locks tucked under a trucker hat. And he came from behind me and my two friends to place something in their cart which keeps his back toward me. When he turns back around, my mind goes blank. Any thoughts of shopping for dining room chairs has left my mind. He is wearing a face mask, but he has such nice eyes that he could have a giraffe snout under the mask for all I care. I see him look up from the shelves, directly into my eyes. We stay locked for a moment before he breaks away and turns to his friends. I slowly turn to my friends too who are both giving me the exact same look of excitement and conspiracy.

“He’s really cute,” I sigh out with a laugh, swooning much louder than I’d have preferred.

“He has a face mask on,” Leila points out, her expression dropping from excited to cynical.

“Still! I can just tell.”

“Girl, what are you doing? Talk to him!” Chelsea whisper-shrieks.

“Shhh, I cannot take you anywhere!”

Glancing back at the handsome stranger, we connect eyes once more and I feel my face heat furiously as I realize he was already looking at me. I’m the first to break; I consult my friends for the best course of action and as I’m turned 180 to face them, Chelsea starts pretending to hyperventilate excitedly. Leila looks over my shoulder for me, discreetly surveying the other trio in the dining chairs aisle.

“Don’t look now, but he’s talking to his friends and looking between them and you.” I can hear in her voice she’s trying her best not to smile despite wearing a face mask.

“Should I give him my number?”

“Yes!”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m nervous! What if he’s gay?”

“Will you just get over there? I promise you a gay man would not be wearing what he’s wearing right now. Maybe a lesbian,” Leila adds for good measure.

“You guys are freaking me out, I need you to leave so I know you’re not judging my flirting.” I shoo my best friends out of the aisle as inconspicuous as possible. Kinda wish blondie would’ve done the same because when I turn back around, the other trio hasn’t moved and the only one looking at me is the one in all black. He quickly averts his eyes though and I take one last deep breath before walking over to the stranger. I tilt my chin up ever so slightly to fake a sense of confidence that I unmistakably don’t have right now.

“Hey.” Really, Y/n? Hey??

“Hey,” he greets back breathily. Why is he nervous? I’m the one who gets to be nervous! Man, he’s really cute. I can’t fuck this one up. I’m not doing so stellar right now. Perhaps you should say something else, dipshit?

“Uhm,” I should’ve scripted this. “I just wanted to say that-” You’ve got this. Don’t be a bummer. “I-uh, I think you’re really cute and I was wondering if I could give you my number?” My speech is slow, each word deliberate in spite of the fact that I feel like I’m having an out of body experience right now. I’m not the one in control of the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Upon realizing why I walked over, blondie’s friends take the question as a sign to leave and less than inconspicuously back away from the two of us. Trucker hat spares them one last glance over his left shoulder and judging by the look flannel gives him, they were definitely talking about me in their team huddle.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask for your instagram- if you have one, that is.”

“I’m cool with both.” The two of us reach for our phones and unlock them with anxious hands. I move to hand him my phone with instagram open, and he trades me for his which has a new contact open. I type my name and put my favorite heart emoji next to it after triple checking the number is correct. Wow, you’re just so ballsy today, Y/n!!!!! I give him back the phone, scanning the instagram account he’s just opened and followed for me. I hear him exhale a little harder as a small laugh and can only imagine it’s from the stupid heart emoji.

“Owen,” I say in a hushed, endeared voice, fully not intending to say it out loud. “You have a million followers?! Oh, you’re an actor. OH… You’re an actor.” I really don’t need to be speaking my entire thought process right now in the middle of this Ikea. Exhaling a small laugh of my own, I see we already have a small bunch of mutuals, one of which is… Chelsea??? Looking up from my phone I turn around to see Chelsea and Leila watching the interaction from around the corner of one of the industrial shelves.

In the flurry of scattered likes, I see him find my account and follow me back. I accept the request, nervous of what he thinks of me without a face mask on. What do I think of him without a face mask on? Going back to his account, seeing his entire face is even better than just his eyes. I was right, Leila: he is cute.

“You’re really pretty,” I hear him almost sigh as he combs through the grid of my account. The comment makes my heart beat all the much faster and I finally look upward to get a glimpse of Owen in the flesh. Still as beautiful as the last time I checked!

Sparing a quick glance over my shoulder, he looks back down at me and laughs,

“I think your friends got tired of waiting.”

“I think yours did, too.” The other members of our trios come back into the aisle we had kicked them from more or less two minutes ago. We connect eyes once more and stare longingly, wordlessly at one another, so lost in each other’s beauty our friends have to break up the staring contest of infatuation.

“Y/n?” I hear Leila behind me.

“Uh, well, I have to get back to chair shopping, but- text me later?”

“For sure.”

“For sure,” I mimic his voice.

“Guess I’ll see you later. Y/n.”

“Yeah.” And with that, we’re pulled apart by our respective best friends, through the vast expanse of the Norman Ikea.

“What was that?” Chelsea asks, excitedly linking arms with me.

“I don’t know I- Wait, you have some explaining to do!”

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @lilyjoyner

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years

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the only way to get over someone... // a Batwoman fic

About: SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON TWO FINALE / post-2x18 / season two finale — After the s2 finale, Ryan tries to be a good 'friend' to Sophie, but it does not go the way she planned (feat. an extended cut of the similar tastes in conversation).

Notes: Don’t read if you haven’t seen the finale. This picks up at the end of the Kate and Ryan scene, then continues on from there because my WildMoore heart wanted to. Under the cut because spoilers + read on ao3

Kate Kane is leaving, and Ryan might need some time to fully process that. Kate’s opposite her, comfortably seated on the corner of their desk. The beer bottle clinks against the edge of it as Kate covers her bases. The suit’s staying with Ryan.

Kate starts, “As for Mary and Luke….”

Ryan jumps in with a smile. “They are my family, and I am going to take care of them.” No questions asked. Though, with Luke and his new super suit, she will definitely have help in keeping their family safe.

“Thank you.” Kate smiles back at Ryan. “And Sophie?”

Not family. Not in the traditional sense, at least. She’s family-adjacent at best. She’s… she’s Sophie, the same person who ruined Ryan’s life and relationship multiple times, and the same person who helped Ryan build them both back up.

Ryan quirks her head from side to side. “Can I get back to you on that?” The repetition gets another grin out of Kate. Worry still shines in Kate’s eyes though. Ryan admits, “She’s saved me a lot more than she’s hurt me, so, I guess I can look out for her too.”

Kate sighs in relief. “Good. She’ll need it. She’s not invincible, Ryan. Mary told me all about the two of you going back and forth over Cluemaster. She’s tough, but Sophie’s a lot more fragile than she seems.”

Ryan has seen a bit of that. Sophie does her best to hide the cracks in her armor, but Coryana in particular stripped down a layer. Her fear for Jordan took another, even her concern for Ryan in these last few days wore at it. “And you’re about to break her heart.”

Kate nods. She seems so sure that looking for Bruce is the right move. Maybe that’s what a good trip of Snake Bite can offer: clarity. Not that Ryan’s interested in joining Kate on that other side.

“Help her through it?”

Ryan jokes, “I’ll make sure she finds a suitable rebound. There’s a pretty great lesbian bar here.”

Kate’s eyes twinkle. “Keeping it close to home?”

Ryan does not like the implication in that question. She redirects the conversation. “Call us every once in a while. And make sure to tell Mary how much you miss her. She won’t admit it, but she loves to hear it. And maybe text Parker too. That girl is so hungry for gay mentorship. And —”

“I get it. I will keep in contact.”

Ryan aims her beer bottle at Kate like a threat. “You better. Don’t make me come find you. I almost died the last time.”

But Sophie saved her then. Ryan can always do the same.

Sophie does not know what to do with herself now. There’s no guidebook on what to do when the love of your life comes back from the dead, then promptly leaves to search for her cousin. No FAQ with tips on how to handle making out with said love of your life either.

There’s a knock on her door. A hopeful part of her immediately thinks it’s Kate. Sophie will open the door, and Kate will drop down her duffel bag and helmet and say, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sophie rushes to the door. Throws it open and — oh, of course. Ryan gives her an apologetic smile from the other side of it.

“I know I’m probably not who you want to see right now….” Ryan starts. Her arms shift around two resusable grocery bags with overflowing snacks and wine bottles. A backpack bumps them from her shoulder. She offers another smile. “I brought supplies. And I’m here to keep you company through the heartache and to take you up on your offer.”

That explains the backpack. Sophie checks, “Kate’s leaving tomorrow?”

Ryan nods. “Tonight’s her last night in the loft, and my only night crashing on your couch. If the offer still stands?”

She seems hopeful too, and nervous, like she’s bracing herself for Sophie to close the door in her face.

Sophie hasn’t exactly had any company at her place. Not since Julia. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone here tonight. Make her laugh, make her smile.

Sophie steps back to let Ryan in. Ryan glides forward. Sophie closes the door and leans back against it so she can watch Ryan take in the space.

Ryan does a full turn in the entrance. “Damn, you got it like this?” She whistles low in appreciation. Her platform converse pad along the hardwood flooring between the front door and the living room. It’s spacious with the most comfortable couch Sophie’s ever owned, her favorite coffee table, and a large TV, courtesy of a Black Friday sale two years ago. This place isn’t as nice as her old apartment with Tyler, but it’s still one of the nicer places that Gotham has to offer.

Ryan glances back at Sophie, and she realizes she should probably answer the playful question.

“I barely got it like this. Say what you want about my comphet marriage,” Sophie pushes off the door to approach Ryan in the living room, “the dual incomes made life a lot easier.” She winces. Any income. “I may have to downsize again now that I’m unemployed.”

Ryan sets her bags down on the coffee table. “Just work with Luke.”

Sophie’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “In real estate?”

Ryan gives Sophie an equally confused look. “He still daylights as Head of Wayne Security. If you work there too, it’ll make Bat stuff that much easier.”

Oh. “I… hadn’t thought about that.”

“Bat stuff or what comes next?” Ryan asks.

“Honestly? Any of it.” Sure, Ryan has called Sophie now that Sophie knows the truth. They’ve teamed up, and they really did a great job last night during the blackout. All signs point to Sophie officially being a part of the team. She simply doesn’t want to assume and get hurt in the process.

Ryan reads her silence and rolls her eyes. “Consider this your Bat Team orientation. We mostly work nights, though there are the occasional work trips. We went to a beautiful island this year for a company retreat.”

Sophie can play along. “I think I’ve been there. Shame about the fire.”

Ryan nods with a faux somber expression. “Beautiful sight, even if it did almost kill me. Oh, and we have full medical benefits, so long as you go to Mary and Mary alone. No overtime. No days off. But you get to make Gotham a better place.”

Sophie pretends to think it over. “Is there a uniform?”

“Only for me. The rest of the staff comes as they are.”

“Lucky them.”

Ryan pops the collar on her flannel shirt. “You should see me in my suit.” It fits Ryan in all the right places for being protective wear. Sophie will never say that though. Ryan’s cocky enough without being complimented.

Sophie eyes the bags. “So what’s the plan?”

Ryan perks up, their earlier bit forgotten. “Anything we want. I’ve got face masks —” She tugs them out to show Sophie. “Candy and snacks. Most of it’s vegan, so I can enjoy it too. I brought wine that I took from the bar. We can blast angry, pop music, or do sad girl karaoke. Ooh, you can call Kate a bitch again.”

“I called Circe a bitch,” Sophie clarifies.

Ryan waves that off. “She deserved it.”

“Well, she’s gone so….” Sophie shrugs because that is the point, isn’t it? She glances around her one bedroom apartment — the effects of her last break-up — and logs the empty spots on the walls where old art would’ve gone. There’s space on the bookshelves from the books Tyler took with him. After the divorce, Sophie had to physically sort through her life. What does she do now when there’s nothing to pack up, or send away?

Sophie admits, “I’ve never had another person for this. Though, Kate and I did have a better goodbye than we usually do.” Even saying that puts a little smile in the corner of Sophie’s lips.

Of course Ryan clocks it. “Oh, y’all had a good-bye then.”

Sophie’s smile gets bigger as she licks her lips. A very good bye. As the rest of the conversation filters back in, Sophie’s smile shrinks. “She wants me to go for something easier.”

Ryan hums in understanding. “Long distance isn’t great, especially when you have no idea where she’ll be.”

“Are we still talking about Kate?” Sophie asks. Angelique’s out there somewhere. Ryan spent the majority of their working relationship hating Sophie because of Angelique. If Ryan’s still hung up on her….

Ryan shrugs. “We’re all getting over someone. I am just much further along than you.”

Honestly, direct communication is not something Sophie is interested in right now. She doesn’t want to think about whether Ryan misses Angelique, or how much Sophie will miss Kate when the reality sets in. She doesn’t want to think about Imani, or the fact that Ryan has had a whole mini-relationship in these last few months while Sophie’s been frozen in grief and time.

“You know what they say, the best way to get over someone…” Sophie lets the sentence hang a moment as Ryan’s eyebrows inch higher and higher up her hairline. Sophie laughs before finishing, “is to watch a movie with a friend. You pick.”

The way Ryan’s face lights up with the power is absolutely worth whatever disaster will take up the next two hours of Sophie’s life. “Let me see what you got.”

As Sophie brings two glasses of wine over to the living room, Ryan puts a throw pillow on the ground and tells Sophie to sit on it.

“But the couch—”

“Is for me!” Ryan plops down with her feet on either side of the pillow. She looks like they’ve got church in the morning and the hot comb’s smoking on the tray beside her. “You know the set up,” Ryan says.

“True. Care to tell me why?” Sophie’s hair is fine.

Ryan’s nose quirks up the way it does when she needs to keep her emotions in check. She shrinks into her chest. “When I was sad, my mama used to play with my hair. She’d claim that she was oiling my scalp, but mostly, she ran her fingers through it. Gave me a little massage until I felt better, or went to sleep. I am willing to do that for you, if you want to actually relax.”

Relaxing does sound better than drinking a lot of wine and crying. Besides, Ryan studies Sophie’s face like she wants to find every crack and smooth it over. How could Sophie say no?

She sets the wine down and sits onto the pillow. Instinct takes over as she scoots back until her back’s to the couch and rests her neck against the side of the cushion. Ryan does a little happy dance that shakes the couch. She presses play on the movie, and Sophie watches the credits. She does. She sees that much for sure. But once Ryan slips her fingers into Sophie’s hair, Sophie tunes all the way out.

A light lavender scent hits her nose each time Ryan’s hands shift towards the crown of her head. Did Ryan put on a perfume, or is that an essential oil? Lavender’s meant to be calming. Soothing. Sophie wants to drown in it.

As Ryan massages her way along Sophie’s scalp, the world melts away. No pain, no drama, just a weightlessness that eases down her body and makes her want to cry. Her body sinks into the softness. The peace and stability of knowing hands and the right amount of pressure to send tingles through her skin. Then Ryan’s short nails get involved, lightly scratching, and Sophie barely bites down on a moan.

Ryan must still hear it. A little chuckle shakes the couch. She doesn’t comment thankfully. Sophie doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed right now. Too lost in the feel of Ryan’s hands on her. If this is what Ryan can do with just Sophie’s head —

Sophie’s eyes fly open. She needs to get a grip.

Ryan’s fingers snake down to Sophie’s shoulders. Again, the only grip Sophie can focus on is Ryan’s. Sophie lasts another few minutes of this high before sighing out, “Marry me.”

She figures Ryan will laugh at that too. They’ve joked enough about dates, both in and out of the cowl. Ryan doesn’t even stop touching her. Ryan leans down rather than keeping the distance. The shift in position tightens her thighs on either side of where Sophie sits. She waits until her breath is a warm whisper against Sophie’s ear to let out the sexiest little laugh. Sophie genuinely stops breathing.

“If you think this is good, you’re not ready.”

In an instant, Sophie would really like to be. Ready, willing, anything and everything if it feels this good and Ryan stays this close to her. Her face is on fire as she turns her head to see Ryan. Fuck, Ryan’s lips are right there. Teasing and parted, and Ryan’s tongue dips out to wet them. Sophie drags her gaze up from Ryan’s lips to meet Ryan’s hooded, sparkling eyes. Oh she knows exactly what she’s doing to Sophie. She’s enjoying this.

Ryan’s voice still sounds teasing. “Watch the movie, Sophie.”

“I’ll watch what I want to watch,” Sophie shoots back.

Ryan takes that as the challenge it is. She holds the stare and kneads her thumbs into the backs of Sophie’s shoulders. Sophie’s eyelids flutter, and she struggles again to keep from audibly moaning. At least this time, she catches the little gulp Ryan does.

Ryan scoots back onto the couch, up to her full — albeit little — seated height. Sophie turns further, and she tries not to think too hard about looking up at Ryan from between Ryan’s legs. It must be on her face though since Ryan actually averts her eyes.

“Soph....” Ryan’s voice strains. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Ryan started it with that ‘if you think this is good’ comment. She is not putting this back on Sophie.

Ryan groans, flustered in a way that should not look as cute as it does. “You know what! You — we — just look over there.” She takes a hand off Sophie to point back at the TV. “I am trying to be a good friend right now. To both of you.”

And there goes the fun. Sophie turns back to the TV. She really has no idea what’s happening in this movie. She doesn’t want to ask either. They’re damn near fifteen minutes in. She’s not going back in the movie, or with life. She’s not going to break down over losing Kate again. She has no reason to. She’s spent more time with Ryan this week than she did with Kate. She’s fine.

Ryan clears her throat. “Talking with her today was, like, everything I’d imagined it would be. She’s funny and witty, and she has great taste in everything. Present company included. I can see why you’d love her. And why it would be easier to not try to deal with those feelings of loss all over again.”

Sophie drops her head back against the couch. Her ceiling’s not nearly as interesting to look at as Ryan. Or Kate. “Do we have to do this?”

“We’re not doing anything else so….” Her narrowed eyes say exactly what she means by ‘anything else.’

“There are other things, Ryan.” Besides giving in to the tension that flares between them, besides shifting an already unstable dynamic past its breaking point. Probably many, many times.

Ryan holds her hands together in her lap. “Well, you’re clearly not interested in the movie, so: your call. What does the great Sophie Moore want to do with her break up night?”

Sophie’s eyes dance as she gets up to kneel in front of Ryan. (Yes, Ryan glances at her through what looks like a haze of lust and concern. Yes, she blinks, and all that emotion slips back under the base gleam in Ryan’s eyes. No, Sophie does not want to think about how many times Ryan might’ve looked at her like this without ever noticing.)

“Well, Ryan Wilder, there is one thing that I have been dying to do.”

“You have to— Sophie, please listen before we end up falling.” Ryan glares up at Sophie. They’re standing on a building that Ryan says is the best jumping point to the Bat-roof. It’s lower down, which is probably why Sophie has never seen either of the Batwomen coming.

Ryan’s face is torn between excitement and dread at sharing her red and black baton with Sophie. She repeats for the third time which button to press to shoot the grappling hook, how to angle the body, and how to land so they don’t fall off the roof.

“I’m listening,” Sophie swears. She adjusts her stance so her feet are wide like Ryan instructed. She angles her body towards the other roof — their roof. She takes a steadying breath and gently plucks Ryan’s hand off the other end of the baton.

Ryan steps in to wrap her arms around Sophie’s waist. “You have to brace yourself for landing. And please do not let go of me. I’m holding on, but—”

“I won’t let go,” Sophie assures her. She wraps her left arm around Ryan and holds tight to the baton with her right. Okay, another steadying breath, and she jams her thumb into the button. The wire flies out, and in a breath, they soar up through the air. Wind whips around them, and Ryan squeezes so tight that her face is nearly in Sophie’s chest.

For her assurances, Sophie does not stick the landing. She stumbles the moment the wire ends, and Ryan stumbles with her. Both of them clatter onto the Bat-roof with a groan and a laugh and a tangle of limbs that ends with them side by side on the roof’s floor.

The air around them is quiet and warm and still has a hint of the smoke from all the fires in Gotham yesterday. Sophie has the fleeting thought that it might be easier with Ryan than she ever expected. What ‘it’ is, well, Sophie blinks that away.

She props herself up on her elbows. “Can we go again?”

Ryan laughs. “No recovery period with you.”

Sophie gets up and offers her hand to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation. She tugs harder than she needs to. Ryan pops up with little more than a breath between them. She uses her free hand to tuck Ryan’s hair behind her ear. Lets her finger trail down Ryan’s neck.

Sophie whispers, “Oh, Wilder, you have no idea.” Ryan’s dramatic groan of reply makes Sophie laugh harder than she has all day. "Come on, round two."

Ryan pouts as Sophie heads for the stairs. Ryan points out, "I normally just jump off."

"What's the rush?" Sophie holds the door open for Ryan to come with her. "We've got all the time in the world."

a/n: We made it through season two, and I love these two so much. What about you?

#batwoman #batwoman fic #wildmoore #ryan wilder #sophie moore #ryan x sophie #mine #batwoman: s2 #batwoman: 218 #kate kane #kate x ryan #but not in a ship way just in a tag way

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fairmoephelia · 4 years

Text

I Met Sarah in the Bathroom

beauyasha week day three!! modern au, enjoy a fic of yasha and beau meeting in the bathroom of a party.

slight warning: there is no in depth talk about it but obann is yasha’s ex (before she came out as a lesbian) and he’s mentioned to have been pretty shitty. so if that bothers you please be careful reading

fic below the cut!

Yasha could feel Obann’s grip on her arm as she stormed through the party, “Calm down, you’re making a scene.” He told her as she tore her arm away from his grasp, shirking his hand as he tried to grab her again.

“Leave me alone,” she muttered, pushing past the few people who didn’t instinctively step out of her way. She breathed a small sigh of relief as she found what she was looking for through the dim lights of the house, a bathroom. She didn’t even know who was hosting the party, someone Molly knew, let alone the layout of the house. She pulled at the handle and it opened, thank god. She rushed inside and slammed the door behind her, hearing Obann’s fist hit with a hollow sound, “Yasha, love, get out here!” He said, still plenty smug but his voice was beginning to sound annoyed. Good.

She banged her own hand against the inside of the bathroom door. “Get fucking lost!” She shouted.

“You can’t stay in there all night, Yasha!” He called back, she could just imagine him leaning dramatically against the other side of the door and grinning to his friends.

She practically growled, “Watch me, asshole.” She leaned her head against the door and took a few deep breaths, she had gotten more upset than she’d meant to with him. She knew he was right, she couldn’t hide out in the bathroom for the rest of the night. She shut her eyes tightly, listening until she heard Obann’s retreat over the music blaring from the living room.

“Uh, hi?” Said a voice from behind her, Yasha spun around to face the owner of the awkward greeting. It was a woman, looking a little pale in the face as she kneeled next to the toilet. She looked like her skin was normally a nice olive tan and was still rather pretty, even with her hair falling haphazardly out of her bun. She wore skinny jeans and a grey checkered button-up, and her ears and face were adorned with several black and gold piercings.

“Sorry,” Yasha said immediately, not knowing what to do other than awkwardly rub at the back of her neck. “I didn’t realize— the door was unlocked,” she explained.

The woman waved Yasha off with a casual hand. “That’s my fault. I kinda had to run in here, too much to drink. That guy sounds like a dick,” she said bluntly.

Yasha sighed, lowering herself against the door until she was sitting on the cool tile of the bathroom floor too. The very thought of Obann, still nearby with his asshole friends, weighed down on her. It was a good thing he hadn’t made it into the bathroom, she wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to stop herself from smashing his head against the sink. “He is,”

“Sucks,” the woman muttered, “I’m Beau, by the way.”

“Yasha,”

“So, was that dude just some random creep or do you know him?” Beau asked, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have to answer, I was just wondering,”

“He’s my ex,” Yasha winced, “We dated for a few months, before I came out as a lesbian,”

“Oh, hey! Me too!”

Yasha smiled a little at that, it was nice to have that kinship with someone other than Molly for the first time in awhile. Her and Beau sat in silence for a moment, it teetered between awkward and comfortable but Yasha decided it was the best she could hope for from a stranger she was randomly trapped in a bathroom with.

“Did you come to this party with any friends?” Asked Beau.

“One, but I don’t know where he is and,” she held her phone out, clicking the power button to show the red low battery screen.

Beau shook her head sympathetically. “Well, I know actually the guy hosting the party, his name’s Fjord. He’d probably be okay with ending it early if you want?”

Yasha shook her head, the last thing she wanted was to be more of a bother. Getting some poor girl stuck in the bathroom with her was one thing, shutting down an entire party because she couldn’t handle seeing her ex was another. “No, no, I don’t want to bother him.”

“Okay, then how about we go grab food?” Said Beau.

“How? I can’t really leave,” she said, as much as it made her feel like a coward, though Molly and the therapist she had gone to for exactly two weeks both told her it shouldn’t. She really couldn’t handle seeing Obann, which had been fine when she believed she would never have to again, but apparently her bad luck had to follow her everywhere. Even to some party she hadn’t wanted to go to in the first place.

“Window,” said Beau, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re kidding?” Yasha couldn’t help but stare, Beau had seemed simple enough at first glance but Yasha was getting the feeling she had when she first met Molly, like she had never met anyone like him before.

“Nope, it’s not even that hard to open or get through,”

“You’ve done it before?”

“Like I said, I know the host,”

“And you’re feeling well enough to do this?” Yasha asked incredulously, considering Beau had admitted to being sick before she arrived.

“I feel great.” She said, pushing herself to her feet and making her way over to a window, blocked by curtains, that Yasha hadn’t noticed when she entered, “And now that I’ve thrown up a bunch, I need to get some food in me. You coming or not?”

Yasha hesitated before joining Beau on her feet, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do and food sounded good. She hadn’t gotten the chance to eat anything before running into Obann.

Beau grinned like she’d just won the lottery, it made Yasha’s stomach flutter slightly. She unlocked the window with a click, throwing it open and ducking out with the grace of someone who had practice escaping quickly through windows. Yasha followed, less practiced and having to fold herself far more than Beau, and pulled the window shut behind her.

Beau held out her phone as they crossed the lawn of the two story house and made their way down to the sidewalk, “You can use my phone to tell your friend where you’re going,” she said.

“Thanks,” Yasha took the already opened phone, looking at the background of Beau with a darker skinned man and woman. The man was tall and wearing a green flannel similar to the blue one around Yasha’s waist, he had amber eyes with a distinctive scar crossing one of them. The woman was chubby and shorter than Beau with freckles, holding up a peace sign and winking, she had bright blue hair and equally colorful clothing. A pink top and candy-like jewelry dangling from her ears and neck. Yasha swiped to messages, putting in Molly’s number and typing a quick text about going to get food with a girl she met at the party. She purposely left out the part of seeing Obann, knowing she would explain later if he asked.

She handed Beau back her phone and they continued down the street, even in the dark Yasha knew the area. Her and Molly had walked there from their apartment, which was the only reason she was comfortable leaving him.

“You know,” said Beau, “I bet your shitty ex came with Fjord’s shitty ex. They broke up on bad terms, but he invited her to clear the air or something. Personally, I think he just wanted to make sure she brought some of his stuff back.”

“Maybe,” Yasha agreed, “I wasn’t originally going to come but Molly, my friend, asked me to. I think he knows Fjord,”

“Oh yeah, Fjord’s mentioned him a few times but I’ve never met him. It’s too bad, maybe if I had I would’ve met you sooner,” she said smoothly.

Yasha huffed a laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is Fjord the guy in your phone background?” She asked, purposely ignoring the compliment though it would be a lie to say she hated it.

Beau didn’t seem discouraged, “Yeah, the girl is Jester, our other friend.”

“Was she at the party?”

Beau nodded, “Along with Caleb and Veth, some of our other friends. Caleb was probably just as reluctant to be there as you,”

Yasha felt a slight recognition at the name, “I think Molly has mentioned a Caleb before,” she said.

“Oh!” Beau said suddenly, “Is Molly the guy who got him that really stupid shirt for Hanakuah last year?”

“The one that said ‘Cat Daddy’ on it?”

“Yes!” Beau laughed, “His face when he opened it was the highlight of my night,”

Yasha chuckled at the memory of holiday shopping with Molly. They had mostly just been buying for each other, trying not to let the other one see, but he had been so excited to find the shirt, saying he had just the person in mind to give it to.

Beau and Yasha entered the fast food restaurant they had come across during their walk, ordering burgers and fries and taking a seat at one of the cheap plastic tables with their food. Beau ate like a starving woman and Yasha enjoyed her food as well. As the night came to an end, or rather morning began to rise, Beau passed her phone across the table back to Yasha.

“Can I have your number?” She asked, “You’re pretty cool and I’d like to take you somewhere nicer than the nearest fast food place.”

Yasha stared at the contacts screen, hesitating like she had at the window, for only a moment, before typing in her number. She placed a flower emoji next to her name and returned the phone.

Beau smiled at the screen and Yasha was really beginning to like when she smiled, “Thanks.” She said, “You good to get home?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yep. I hope to see you soon, Yasha.”

Yasha smiled and left the restaurant.

#beauyashaweek2020 #beauyasha #critical role #critrole #beauregard lionett #cr beau #yasha nydoorin #cr yasha #fic #fanfiction #critical role fic #also yes caleb and beau are jewish #my best friend introduced me to the headcanon and i will never get over it #i love it a lot

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geralehane · 4 years

Text

A Faeverse Story: The Park Fae

(faeverse is my new series of interconnected short stories about fae and their girlfriends interactions with humans.)

Lenny first meets her when she’s walking Rem on a chilly spring night. She notices her because Rem, being the extremely friendly young dog she is, lunges in her direction, eager to make friends. Otherwise, she’d probably remain a faceless silhouette in the shadow of a broken streetlamp.

First time she sees her, she’s tugging on the leash in an attempt to restrain her dog and pull her away from the bench. She mentally thanks her past self for deciding not to let Rem off the leash until they are deeper in the park. If she had, Rem would’ve reached the bench in no time and actually leapt at the person, instead of simply panting excitedly a few feet away from them. The rushed apology at the tip of her tongue dies when she glances at the seated stranger and realizes she’s not paying any attention to them. She’s staring at her phone, brows furrowed in deep thought as she doesn’t blink. There’s nothing particularly unusual about that - Lenny herself has received plenty of comments about her resting angry scowl when she’s browsing through something. People often mistake the look of deep concentration for discontent.

Except the girl’s phone is off. Lenny blinks, but shrugs it off after a second of confusion. She doesn’t know that girl, and she doesn’t know her story. Perhaps, she’s waiting for an important call. At midnight. Alone in the park.

But, like she said – she doesn’t know her story. So she simply takes a turn and walks away, the brief thought about the girl’s beauty - apparent even when obstructed by darkness - quickly forgotten as she hurries to keep up with a happily strutting Rem.

She probably wouldn’t think twice about the chance encounter – okay, maybe a couple of times, not more – if she didn’t run into her again the very next day, at the exact same time. Seated on that very bench, the girl quickly smokes, each puff shaky and each exhale rushed and tense. The streetlamp she’s under is repaired, and it illuminates her surprisingly soft features and blonde hair, painted golden with the warm light. She looks to be around Lenny’s age, maybe a little younger, but definitely in her early twenties.

Once is a happy coincidence. Twice is a pattern. Thrice could be fate if one believed in it. Lenny’s not sure she does. She is sure, though, suddenly, that she wishes there were a third time. Just so she has something to approach the girl with. Because tonight, she turns left before she reaches the bench and hastily walks away, for once grateful for Rem’s near-obsessive determination to sniff things that are a mile away.

She doesn’t think she can explain her sudden flight. It may or may not have something to do with the girl’s strikingly gentle beauty. Lenny thinks any artist would be ecstatic to paint her, warm golden hues and soft strokes covering the canvas, not one harsh line in sight. And, even though she can barely sketch a table, she perfectly envisions the piece in her head. Along with the sweet buttery smell of French toast, and the scent of freshly pressed orange juice on a sunny, lazy Sunday afternoon, when pajamas are never taken off and there’s only place for two in the entire tiny world of a small apartment filled with slow smiles and touches and smooth blonde hair scattered across the pillow…

Rem attempts to chase a stray cat, jostling Lenny out of her thoughts that are bordering on creepy, and she shakes her head as she scowls at herself. You literally just met her. No, you didn’t even meet her, you just saw her for a total of two times and ten minutes. Calla, her best friend, has said on a number of occasions that she couldn’t be more of a lesbian stereotype if she donned a thousand flannel shirts. This is certainly one of those occasions, she thinks with an involuntary grin as she imagines Calla scoffing at her when she tells her about this.

Sighing, she calls for Rem to go home, and tells herself not to look back.

The girl’s silhouette is still on the bench when she does. //

Lenny’s vague, unclear wish comes true the next day. The girl is still there. For a brief, insane moment, she imagines her to be the park fae, messing with people’s heads and wearing them down before luring them to vanish in a different, colorful, gorgeously terrifying world.

She doubts, though, that the park fae would look this… sad. Desperate. Even if creatures like that existed, the girl is still undeniably human. And tonight, her expression is more broken, and because of that, Lenny can’t keep putting the inevitable off.

“Uh,” she clears her throat as she shortens the leash, hoping Rem won’t jump. “Hi.”

The girl blinks, as if shaking off a daze, or a daydream, and slowly turns her head to meet Lenny’s increasingly scared eyes. “Hello?” She asks more than states, arching one brow.

Lenny swallows. Right. “I, uh – I couldn’t help but notice you… sitting here,” this is not going well, “alone and – do you need help? I mean, if you--”

“I,” the girl interrupts before Lenny digs a deeper hole for herself and a smaller one for Rem just because she refuses to die of embarrassment alone and she’s a horrible person who’ll drag her dog down with her, “am fine. You need to mind your own business.” She glances at Rem who’s curiously wagging her tail and attempting to come closer, and Lenny sees a brief, amused smile escape her before she shuts down and turns her attention to her phone, this time with its screen lit up.

The lightbulb has already gone off inside her head before Lenny has a chance to smash it into a million pieces. Rem. She likes Rem.

And you still don’t know anything about her – and now, you’ve been given a pretty clear instruction to fuck off, she reminds herself as she mumbles an apology and rushes to get out of there. Besides, using her dog to – what? chase the notorious get the girl cliché? – get closer to someone doesn’t feel right.

A plan’s already forming, however, and Lenny doesn’t know if she’s really powerless to stop it or if she’s just telling herself she is.

“I’ve always wanted to say it like they do in bad comedies, so thank you for the opportunity,” Calla happily informs her. “So here we go. You did what?!”

Lenny can’t help a short laugh despite the feeling of deep embarrassment spilling in her chest. “I, Lenny the useless lesbian, let Rem off the leash for the sole purpose of getting a girl’s number,” she says solemnly, trying – and failing – not to snicker. This whole thing is just so – absurd.

Calla’s dirty blonde curls bounce as she shakes her head in amusement. “You’re using her,” she says, faux accusatory. “She’s using you, hon.” Rem only yawns at that as she lays sprawled out next to Calla on Lenny’s couch, her head resting in her lap. Calla chuckles and scratches at Rem’s droopy ears. “Maybe the usage is mutual,” she notes.

“Hey. My dog loves me.”

“And yet she chooses my lap over yours every time,” Call rebuffs playfully. “But back to that girl. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t – ugh,” Lenny throws her arms in the air, exasperated with herself. “I used my dog as a means to a questionable end. I’m horrible.”

Blue eyes roll at her. “Alright, school production of Hamlet, calm down. Did you score or not?”

“Would I be sitting here disappointed with myself if I did?”

Her friend shrugs. “Hey, I don’t know your life. Maybe.” Except Calla does know her life. Sometimes, she knows her better than she knows herself.

“Well, I didn’t,” she huffs, standing up from her chair and plopping onto the couch next to a grinning Calla. “Why do I always do this? Why do I always – chase the fairy dust?”

Calla hums, sympathetic. “You’ve totally imagined your whole life together already, haven’t you?” Her grin grows softer when Lenny only gives her a defeated nod. “Can I just say that I’m glad you’re not attracted to me? Cause I can’t imagine how awkward it’d be for you to be friends with me after wondering what I look like naked. Or carrying your fifth child.”

“Okay first, I only want four, and two, I’ve seen you naked. And – stop putting ideas in my head,” Lenny pushes her shoulder, gently, before getting up with a sigh. “I gotta take Rem out. You coming?”

“Obviously. Wait, you never told me what happened after Rem got to slobber all over the poor girl and you lived vicariously through your dog.”

“She didn’t slobber,” Lenny protests. Maybe a little. “And nothing really happened. Rem ran over to her, she pet her, called her a good girl, and ignored me. Then Rem got bored and ran away.” She sighs. “And so did I.”

“Girl,” Calla drawls, visibly struggling to hold her laughter in. “That’s brutal. Is that why we’re taking Rem out an hour earlier than usual? So you don’t run into her?”

Lenny doesn’t reply, because she doesn’t have to. Calla knew the answer to that question before she asked.

There is a fatal flaw in her otherwise – well – still poorly thought out plan. She doesn’t actually know when exactly the girl comes to the park, because every time she sees her, she’s already there, on that bench. Lenny’s kind of assumed that she shows up mere minutes before her, and boy is she proven wrong tonight.

“Calla,” she says, lowly. “That’s her. Over there.”

“Do you think she wanted to avoid you, too?”

Must she? “If she did, she would have come an hour later, not earlier,” Lenny gruffly replies, somewhat offended. Even though the girl would be justified in her desire to avoid her after last night’s disastrous display. “I think – I guess that’s just when she comes here.”

She already knows she’s not going to like whatever Calla’s about to say when she sees that dreadful determined look in her eyes. That look has gotten them in trouble plenty of times. Admittedly, it also led to many fond memories, but those became fond after a certain passage of time. Like when she got them arrested in a small southern town they were passing through. Her heart was in the right place, but her bare chest wasn’t, and indecent exposure is not pretty on anyone’s record.

“Why don’t we find out?” Here it is. Lenny nods to herself as she catches Calla’s elbow, gently but firmly tugging her back and meeting her glaring hazel eyes with her own stern ones.

“No,” she simply says, shaking her head. “She probably already thinks I’m stalking her. Please don’t add to that.”

“Jesus. Okay,” Calla murmurs, mostly to herself, and there it is again – that fire she gets in her eyes just before she’s about to explode. “Lenny. You walk your dog in this park twice a day. You’ve lived near this park for several fucking years. This girl showed up, what, two days ago? You act like she owns that bench,” Calla lets out an agitated breath while Lenny blinks, ambushed. “For all you know, she might be prepping to blow this place up, cause this whole thing is pretty damn suspicious if you ask me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lenny states.

Calla shrugs, visibly calming down. “Not in the world we live in, but yeah, doubt she’d hang around here drawing attention to herself if she were to try something like that,” she admits. “Still. She’s the weird one. Not you.”

“Or,” Lenny says, “no one is weird and everyone should mind their own business.”

“Or that.” Hazel eyes twinkle with self-satisfaction. “So let’s do just that. Wanna play catch, baby?” The last sentence is intended for Rem, and she replies with a happy bark, making them both grin.

She only glances at the girl twice that evening, and she thinks she sees her hastily turn away the second time she does, as if afraid Lenny will catch her looking at them. But she’s not sure.

It rains the next night, and it’s the dreadful kind. She almost didn’t take Rem out, but the pitiful whimpers and gazes her dog shot her while scratching at the front door didn’t leave her much choice. So they both don raincoats and ran outside.

There is something reliving, liberating about water. As cliché as it is, it truly does wash everything away, leaving you bare and clean and free. Lenny takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with cold, fresh air, and stretches her hand out, catching the waterfall and splashing her face with it. Her mood quickly improves as she imagines brewing herself some hot tea with apples and spices and curling up on the couch with Rem and a book after they are done with the walk. It’s always so much better inside when it’s awful outside. Makes her appreciate the smallest things, like warm blankets and comfy pajamas and old Halloween specials.

Her growing smile fades, however, when she sees the familiar figure perched on the bench, with her arms crossed and shivering. Is she insane? Even Rem doesn’t want to be here – she quickly takes care of her dog business and is now standing beside Lenny, tail tucked in as she patiently waits to be ushered inside.

She doesn’t even really think as she marches up to the girl on the bench, strides long and purposeful. “Hey,” she says – snaps, really, the combination of terrible weather and the bizarreness of this situation making her impatient. The girl’s expression is unreadable as she meets her gaze. Lenny figures she’s too cold to care about being bothered right now. “I know it’s not my place, but you’re gonna get hypothermia if you stay here. You’re clearly waiting for something, or someone, but you can do it in my apartment. My windows overlook the park.”

The girl bites her lip. Mostly to stop it from trembling. “How do I know you’re not gonna feed me to your dog?”

“Don’t worry, she’s vegetarian,” Lenny quips. Calla once told her that her wit is quicker – and much more brazen – when she’s under pressure. The urgency of this situation could be considered pressure, she thinks. She just really doesn’t want her to stay here. “If you’re apprehensive, which is understandable, let me walk you to a café, or – something. You can’t stay here. It’s gonna rain all night.” She licks her lips, nervous, and tastes the rain drops. Fresh.

The girl glances at Rem, who’s beginning to tremble. “Fine.” Without adding anything else, she stands up, desperately hugging herself to warm up, and brusquely starts walking. Lenny hurries after her, mildly bewildered at the girl’s rudeness. But she thinks it doesn’t matter. At least she’ll be someplace warm now.

“So, uh, there’s this coffee shop down the street – it closes in one hour, though, so I don’t know--”

“I thought we were going to yours,” the girl interrupts. “Unless your dog has changed her mind about vegetarianism,” she adds, then. It’s deadpan, but it is a joke, and that’s enormous progress.

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s aware she’s adopted that philosophy,” Lenny chuckles. They never slow down, and it’s a short walk to her building. It’s just across the road.

The girl presses the elevator button, and it arrives almost immediately. “Which floor?”

“Uh, sixth. You can see your bench from my living room.” Why, Lenny? The girl cocks an eyebrow, and she hurries to explain. “I wasn’t – watching you, or anything. I’ve lived here for a couple of years now and I pretty much memorized the layout of the park by now.”

“Even if you did, it’s whatever. It’s your window,” the girl says after a moment of consideration. She doesn’t sound like that’s something she wouldn’t mind. More like someone who accepts it’s out of their control.

Lenny feels the need to convince her she’s saying the truth. “But I didn’t. It wouldn’t -- feel right.” The elevator stops and dings, saving them both from a yet another awkward moment.

“I’ll go put the kettle on,” Lenny informs the girl when they walk in. “There’s a blanket on the couch. If you want, I can give you some dry clothes.”

“That… would be nice,” the girl says slowly, as if still contemplating whether she wants to be here. “Thank you.”

Lenny tries not to show her surprise. “You’re welcome,” she smiles, and kneels to wipe Rem’s paws. “Just give me a minute.”

When she walks into the living room with a cup of tea and a change of clothes, the girl’s curled up on the couch, and the blanket’s next to her. “I didn’t want to make it wet,” she says when Lenny gives her a questioning look. Rem chooses this exact moment to burst into the room and jump on the couch, hogging the blanket all to herself. “And I didn’t’ wanna piss her off,” the girl adds, with a small smile.

Lenny makes a mental note to buy Rem any treats she wants. “I have other blankets,” she tells her. “Here. I hope you don’t mind sweatpants – I figured their size is more or less universal.”

“I don’t think I have the right to mind anything right now. Although if you have something of your girlfriend’s, that would probably fit me better. You’re taller than me.��

Lenny feels like she’s been thrust outside once more, only this time without a raincoat, or any clothes for that matter. “My -- I don’t have a girlfriend,” she stutters. “You mean Calla? Calla’s my best friend.”

“I guess Calla, yeah,” the girl shrugs, running her hand through her damp hair. “The girl I saw you with last night?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s Calla. And we’re definitely not dating.” Lenny lets out a disbelieving chuckle, because – Calla? No way.

“Why not? You seemed – cozy.” The girl’s lips twitch in amusement.

“We’re long time friends,” she says, carefully settling in a chair before the girl. “I’ve known her my entire life. And – cozy? What does that even mean?”

She watches her shrug. “I don’t know. Comfortable?”

“Well. That happens when you’ve known someone for a while.”

The girl scoffs. “I’ve known my sister for a while,” she tells her. “We don’t look like that.”

“Sisters and friends are two different things,” Lenny feels the need to defend her friendship. They’ve been best friends since preschool, and not once did she allow herself to embarrass Calla by being anything more than that. Sure, her friend is attractive – insanely so – and she’s the best person she knows, but she’s never stepped out of line. And now, this random stranger mistakes them for girlfriends after watching them for an hour.

“True,” the girl says. “When those friends really wanna bang.”

“That’s insane,” Lenny feels the heat rise to her cheeks. Okay, she’ll admit it – it’s not like she’s never thought of it, but -- come on. Everyone’s thought about having sex with their amazing, beautiful, funny best friend. Right?

She needs a change of subject. “I’m sorry – can you tell me your name? Mine’s Lenny.”

As per usual, when someone finds out her name, their eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Lenny? Isn’t that a boy’s name?”

“Do things still have gender, really,” Lenny muses, carefully settling in a chair before the girl and mentally high-fiving herself when she grins. “It’s Elena, but I hate it, so I shortened it to Lenny.”

“Ah. It suits you.” The girl pauses, seemingly thinking something over. “Reena.”

“It’s a beautiful name.”

Reena’s hair, still heavy with rain, falls over her shoulder when she cocks her head, studying her. “You sure I’m the one you want to be hitting on?”

“I’m sure I don’t wanna continue this conversation,” Lenny mutters, unable to fight the scowl settling over her face. Something akin to regret flashes through Reena’s eyes, and she nods, standing up and clutching Lenny’s clothes to her chest.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. Sorry. I just… tend to run my mouth when I’m out of my element. Guess I misjudged the situation.”

“I guess so,” Lenny says, but there’s no bite.

“Right. Well – I’ll go change.” With that, she turns and leaves.

“Bathroom’s down the hallway,” Lenny yells after her, but the only answer she gets is the sound of a door opening and closing.

The rain only pours harder, and doesn’t show any sign of stopping. Lenny slowly breathes in the warmth of her home as she stands before the window, watching the deserted park and glistening, trembling leaves of its trees. If she lights the candles, would it seem inappropriate? It is, after all, the perfect date night. At least in her books. Cold and awful outside, warm and toasty inside; lazy cuddles and slow, gentle touches in a messy bed full of pillows and blankets…

“I’m back,” Reena announces, jostling her out of her thoughts. Her hair’s still damp, but she looks much better now, and there’s a rosy tint to her cheeks. “I… I don’t say this often – mostly because there’s not a lot of people I can say this to, but… Thank you. Really. You didn’t have to do this.” The raw sincerity of her voice is unexpected, and Lenny swallows, trying and failing to find words to use. Come on. Anything.

“Well. I mean. I still could murder you.” Anything but that, Jesus Christ, she thinks, mortified. But Reena smirks and plops back onto the couch, fingers sliding through Rem’s fur.

“I refuse to die sober. You got anything to drink?”

As it turns out, she does. Half a bottle of red, spicy wine later, the conversation starts to flow. At first, it’s small stuff. Latest news, movies, music. Lenny’s somehow not surprised to learn their tastes are different to the point of clashing. But that doesn’t lead to any awkward silences; if anything, it fuels the dialogue. Another half gone, though, and Reena’s baby blues sparkle with curiosity. “So,” she announces, suddenly, cutting Lenny off mid-word. “Is Calla short for something?”

“No, it’s just Calla,” Lenny says, almost on autopilot, before blinking in confusion. “Wait – why?”

“Nothing.” Reena’s shrug is hilarious in the oversized hoodie she’s wearing. “It’s a beautiful name. Rare.”

“It is. It suits her,” Lenny says before she can fully process what it is she’s saying. Once her own words reach her, she shakes her head, frowning. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Why not?” Reena springs to her feet, abruptly. Lenny’s noticed she has a knack for startling people. Or she’s just easily startled. Probably the latter. She watches her as she comes up to her old record player and cocks her head to the side studying it. “What if I’m a nomadic cupid wandering the world and helping the helpless? Or a love goddess,” the last part is muttered to herself, lower, but Lenny still hears. “I like that better. Yeah. Love goddess.”

“I’m not helpless,” Lenny states. “And you’re drunk.”

“Maybe. Does it matter?” Reena fishes out a vinyl record and puts it on, not stumbling once. Slow, steady beats fill the room, along with a soft bass, and Lenny releases a tense breath as she recognizes the song. “This. I think this suits us right now.”

“Us?” Lenny feels her brow raise of its own accord, but Reena only laughs.

“Don’t change the subject. Calla is a beautiful name.”

“I thought we already established that.” She watches Reena gently sway to Stevie’s velvet vocals as they pour from the player and seemingly envelop her entire being.

“Yes. And you said it suits her because she’s beautiful, too. Do you think she’s beautiful?”

“Do you always play cupid when you’re drunk?” The light from the lamppost outside and the darkness of the apartment perfectly clash on Reena’s face, making one eye shine brighter than the other, and Lenny suddenly thinks back to her first – or was it second – insane thought she’s had when she saw her dark, unmoving figure in the park. Fae, luring you in.

Or bringing you to a realization you wouldn’t have reached on your own.

She shakes her head while Reena chuckles. “Not really,” she answers her previous question. “It’s just… Sometimes it’s easier to spill your guts out to a complete stranger, and, well – I gotta repay you somehow for shelter and drinks.”

Lenny decides to play the game Reena’s offering, then. Or something like that. “Who are you waiting for every night?”

Blue eyes sharpen, for a fraction of a second. “Do you think Calla’s beautiful?”

It’s after a short, tense pause that Lenny replies, and her voice is soft. “I’d have to be blind not to.” There is a part of her – and she’s not sure whether it’s a part she’s been burying, or a part that’s been sleeping and she had no idea about, or it’s a new, unexplored part, but – there’s a part of her that’s raising its head, slowly, tentatively, and looking around and taking everything in and smiling, wider and wider. Maybe Reena is onto something with this whole perfect strangers deal. Maybe.

Reena’s smirk is quick. “I have a sister,” she says. “At least – I hope I still have a sister. She told me to wait for her here, where we grew up playing. She’ll take me with her. I just have to wait.”

Dreams has long since faded into the crackling of vinyl, indicating the end of record. Lenny climbs to her feet and slowly comes up to the player, watching Reena’s tense posture as she flips the vinyl. “I used to love this song,” her guest says when Rhiannon starts filling the room.

Lenny decides she’ll ask about the past tense later. “Are you and your sister in trouble?”

“You could say that,” a careless shoulder shrug lets her know she won’t get anything out of her. “I’ll have to go soon.” Blue eyes meet hers, and Lenny’s struck with the realization that Reena wasn’t really drunk this entire time. “When I do, give it another thought.”

“Me and Calla? Why do you – care so much about that?” This is more than a little bizarre. Lenny’s been waiting to wake up drenched in cold sweat alone in her bed for the past ten minutes.

“You looked happy,” Reena replies simply. Almost childlike. Lenny finds herself wondering about her actual age. “I could use some happiness. Even if it’s not in my life. Even if it’s just the knowledge of someone -- being happy. You know?”

“No,” Lenny says truthfully. “Not really. But I will think about it. I probably won’t be able to think about anything else for the next couple of months.”

“Good.” Reena glances past her shoulder, then, and her eyes grow just a touch wider as a new kind of smile graces her lips. “You know,” she muses, still not looking at her. “I think I’m almost sad I won’t see you again.”

Lenny expects to see a dark figure when she turns around and looks out the window. There, next to Reena’s bench, stands a tall, slim girl, and the way she waves, once, lazily, leaves no doubt in her mind that she knows she’s being watched. And she knows where Reena is.

She’ll need more wine after this.

“Really gotta go now,” Reena tells her as she quickly changes back into her soaked clothes. Rem, who’s been napping on the couch while they drank, is now wide awake as she jumps around Reena, thinking they are going outside. She laughs. “No, bud, you’re staying. I’ll miss you.” Then, she looks at Lenny, and there’s unfamiliar warmth in her gaze that spreads through Lenny’s veins. “Have a good life, Elena. I know – you hate that, but – guess I just felt like saying your actual name.”

“Wait!” Lenny’s head spins as she clumsily chases after her, catching her by the door. “How do I… how do I know you’re okay? That you’ll be okay?”

Reena’s smile is soft. Almost like Calla’s, Lenny catches herself thinking, and blink at the strange thought. “Guess you’ll have to trust me on that,” she tells her, and walks out with one small, final wave. Lenny watches her get in the elevator, and then rushes back inside the apartment, to the window. Seconds tick by as she watches, tense, anticipating something she’s not sure of herself. Reena’s sister still stands there. On count twelve, Reena exits the building and walks over to her, quick and purposeful. On count thirty – Lenny’s not sure why she’s still counting – she reaches her, and they embrace, the gesture familiar and relieved. And then, they walk away together. Lenny watches until they disappear behind the tall, dark trees – until the wall of rain separates her from ever finding out Reena’s story.

She’s not sure it’s a bad thing, and she’s not sure it’s a good thing. She’s also not sure what exactly she was waiting for. After all Reena’s little jokes about her being a cupid, perhaps, she half-expected her to fly away, or dissolve in the rain. Maybe she did and Lenny’s still-drunken, bewildered brain refused to process that. Maybe. All she knows is she’s gone, and there’s something she’s left behind. A new determination, or feeling – or an emotion previously buried and uncovered just now.

Lenny gulps down the rest of her wine and stumbles to bed, passing out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

Waking up early is always a task next to impossible for someone who works from home. Or Lenny is the minority and everyone’s got their shit together, springing up at seven am and running ten miles with their dog and saving a couple of babies from burning houses while she struggles to keep her eyes open.

All she needs to do is get out of bed. The battle’s won when she drags herself to the shower. After that it’s significantly easier to function. Take Rem out for a short walk – they’ll go for a long, exercise-filled one after lunch. Cook breakfast – that’s her favorite part. Today, she decides to go for the full English. All she’s missing are mushrooms, but that’s nothing a quick grocery run won’t fix. Then, text Calla. And get to work. The usual morning routine.

Calla. The drop of her stomach at the name is as sudden as it is, paradoxically, pleasant. She realizes she hasn’t seen her in a while, before realizing that three days is not a while for normal people. But the pull in her chest is too strong to either ignore or give it much rational thought. So she acts.

“Hey,” Calla’s voice is pleasantly surprised. “What’s up?”

“Wanna get breakfast with me?” Lenny blurts out in lieu of greeting. She imagines Calla’s hazel eyes widening ever so slightly as she bites her the inside of her cheek, like she always does when she has to think something through.

The pull in her chest grows stronger.

“Sure,” she finally hears her reply. “Would love to put that flexible schedule to the test.”

Lenny laughs. “You spend two hours a day at the office at most. Pretty sure you’ve been testing that schedule this entire time.”

She can practically see Calla’s careless shrug. “I’m a photographer. An artist. A free spirit.”

“And I support that. Meet you at Sadelle’s in an hour?”

She can always hear when Calla’s smiling, and today’s no exception. “Sounds good. See you soon.”

“So what’s up with that girl?”

Lenny bites into her bagel and slowly chews as she regards her friend. “What girl?”

Calla rolls her eyes at her. “The one you wouldn’t shut up about,” she says, sounding mildly annoyed. “She’s still on that bench?”

“Oh,” she raises her eyebrows as she remembers. Right. The girl. “Um, she left with some girl last night. Probably the one she was waiting for this whole time.”

“Weird,” Calla comments as she watches her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” she takes a sip of her coffee. Calla’s still staring at her, as if not quite believing what she’s saying. “What?”

“Well, you were pretty hung up on that chick, and now you couldn’t care less.”

Hung up. Huh. Oh, she thinks she remembers being weird about it – but what else is new. It’s all kind of hazy, now. Perhaps, that was a short moment of insanity and childish infatuation. “I mean, I barely knew her,” she shrugs. “I didn’t, in fact, know her at all. The whole thing was dumb.”

“Wow.” Calla smiles, slowly. “I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“If you’re that easily impressed, you’d love dating me,” Lenny laughs, but cuts herself off when she realizes what she’s just said. Calla doesn’t seem to mind it, though, only rolling her eyes as she chuckles along.

“You’re so wrong,” she says. Before Lenny has a chance to overreact and start freaking out internally that Calla wouldn’t love dating her – and why would she, since they are friends – Calla continues. “Anyone would love to date you cause you’re awesome. You just need to realize it.”

She blinks. Watches Calla noisily sip the remainders of her milkshake through the straw, feels her lips stretch in a slow, amused smile. “Same,” she says.

“Please. I am fully aware of my awesomeness.”

“No, I meant – you’re awesome, too,” Lenny laughs. “Thanks for spoiling the moment we were about to have.”

“We’ll have plenty more,” Calla waves her off.

“Yeah,” Lenny says, slowly. “We will.” The words form in her mind, almost of their own accord. Just like the feeling she woke up with today and couldn’t quite place her finger on it. And didn’t really want to, in all honesty. She just let it wash over her and dictate her actions, she realizes. It didn’t feel weird, or confusing, or sudden. If anything, it felt right. And right now, she’s letting it speak for her, and that feels right, too.

“Do you--” the words get caught in her throat when hazel eyes meet hers, expectant. Because of how -- unguarded they are. How relaxed, and trusting, and soft. “Do you wanna maybe get coffee sometime?”

Calla tilts her head, just like Rem does when she doesn’t understand what Lenny’s trying to say. “Like what we’re doing right now?” She asks.

“No.” Lenny feels her smile grow in realization. “Not like what we’re doing right now. More like – like a date kind of thing. A proper date.”

She’s never seen Calla’s eyes widen this big before. “You’re… asking me out,” she says, slowly.

“I guess I am. No. I am.” She licks her lips before smiling. “What do you say?”

“I – this is… wow,” Calla manages, and Lenny nods. She feels like laughing. She feels like springing to her feet and sweeping Calla off hers and twirling her around until they collapse in a heap of giggles and limbs, and then--

Calla takes a deep breath. She doesn’t look as ecstatic as Lenny feels, and her excitement fades at seeing a concerned frown on her friend’s face. “You know, I’m gonna be honest with you, since it probably took a lot of courage for you to say this. I, um - I’ve thought about -- this,” she gestures between them, before sighing. “Not like – I don’t think I was pining after you or anything. I mean, I know I wasn’t. I was just… wondering, sometimes. But you were always…”

“Chasing dreams?” Lenny finishes when Calla trails off, and smiles when she nods. “I think I’m done with that.”

“You think? Well, have you thought this through?” Calla brushes her blonde curls away from her face, suddenly impatient. “Because I can’t be your fabricated reality. I can’t be – another fantasy. I won’t lose you over that when you realize that’s all it was and push me away. I don’t wanna – ugh,” she rolls her eyes, looking annoyed. “I like, really need you in my life, okay? And I don’t want to be a weird rebound after that bench girl.”

“You’re not,” Lenny says eagerly. “I told you – I didn’t even know her. And I know I’m always constructing these… mirages in my head, but this - this isn’t a fluke. This is real, okay? I’ve known you practically my entire life. I know you. I need you, and I… I want you. I think this is – it’s the most real thing I’ve felt in a long while.” She’s surprised by her own revelation. By how honest it feels, and raw, and vulnerable, and good.

“The realest.”

“What?”

“Shouldn’t it be the realest? I mean, for someone who makes their living writing…”

She feels the corners of her lips twitch in an amused smile. “You’re deflecting.”

“Maybe.” Calla blows out a sigh. “This is just – super sudden.”

“I know.” She swallows. “I’m not expecting an answer right now. Just – promise me you’ll think about it. And if you want to forget it ever happened and move past this, we can do that.” It’ll hurt and it’ll suck, but she’ll move on if that’s what Calla wants. Just like Calla said, she won’t lose her over this. She’d rather have her in any capacity she’ll allow than not have her at all.

“I don’t think I can forget,” Calla snorts. “This really ties in with a couple of very confusing dreams and that one time we got drunk…”

Lenny feels the heat rush to her cheeks. “We just cuddled,” she attempts to defend herself. God knows why because that one time is working in her favor yet she won’t let it.

“If any of my boyfriends or girlfriends cuddled me like that, maybe I wouldn’t be single right now,” Calla retorts. There’s the usual sparkling mirth back in her eyes, and Lenny allows relief to curse through her veins as she takes her smirking face in. Her beautiful face.

Calla is a beautiful name. It suits her.

She’s so focused on the thought she almost misses it when Calla glances at her watch. “Shit. There’s this dumb meeting I gotta get to,” she tells her. But, before Lenny has a chance to deflate with disappointment and embarrassment, her gaze turns determined. “Tonight. Pick me up at eight.” She springs to her feet and grins at her as she shoulders her bag. It’s one of her infamous flirtatious grins, somehow both impish and innocent as she gazes at her through her lashes. She’s seen those – hell, she’s been on the receiving end of those more than a handful of times, and seriously, why’d it take her this long?

“Just like that?” She calls after her, feeling her own wide grin nearly splitting her face. Calla throws a glance over her shoulder, pausing her step.

‘Think we’ve waited long enough,” she tells her. “Don’t you?” With that, she turns to walk away, but Lenny calls after her one last time.

“Hey Calla?” She waits until she looks at her again, and tries to look as serious as possible. “I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

She’s rarely vulnerable, she knows that. That’s what makes those fleeting moments all the more precious. “I know.”

Lenny leans back in her chair as she watches her walk away, and takes a deep breath as nerves wash over her. She’s got a date to plan, and it’s gotta be the best damn date both of them have ever been on. Tonight, she thinks wildly. Alright. Tonight.

Somewhere at one of the hundreds of faceless gas stations, Reena climbs back in the car and turns up the volume, grinning, as the familiar song comes on the radio.

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#faeverse #wlw drabble #LGBT books #lesbian fiction #short story

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thepartyresponsible · 5 years

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here’s the first spooky season fic! this one’s for @soulessrobot, who asked for natasha/jessica jones. i’m pulling prompts from this list this year, and this fic’s prompt is: it lives underground.

so, here’s a stephen king’s it au, where the losers are 85% girls and 100% over this shit.

Nobody calls them losers anymore. They grew out of it. Grew into their fists, and teeth, and Carol’s ski-sized feet. And maybe Jessica’s served more consecutive Saturday detentions than anyone in school history, but Brunnhilde transferred in two years ago and promptly threw the backup quarterback through a trophy case, so at least the company’s improved.

People don’t slap the books out of Jane’s hands anymore. Nobody shoulder-checks Carol into the dirt or throws Maria’s notebooks in the toilet. No one snickers at Natasha’s accent, her tendency to skip articles, and people might have thoughts about Clint’s hand-me-downs and his bright purple hearing aids, but they’ve learned to keep those thoughts in their stupid, shitty heads.

Nobody calls them losers. Not anymore.

But nobody in this town has anything nice to say about them either. Jessica and Clint are trash, and Brunnhilde and Natasha are foreigners, and Jane’s a stuttering know-it-all, and Maria’s a bossy bitch, and Carol’s an overgrown tomboy who won’t stay in her Goddamn lane. Six girls running around with one boy, and it’s hard to get a read on whether the town thinks they’re sluts, or lesbians, or both.

For her part, Jessica wishes Nat, at least, were a bit sluttier.

She also wishes Nat didn’t have the heart of a Goddamn lioness. Because it would be easier to hate this town and leave it. Easier to walk away when they graduate in in two years. Easier and safer to keep their heads down and their eyes shut.

The blood’s not on their hands. They’ve never hurt anybody who didn’t hurt them first.

So what if the place is cursed? So what? Maybe they deserve it. Maybe everyone who stays here deserves to be miserable and angry and terrified. Maybe Jessica wants them to be miserable and angry and terrified.

Not the kids, though. Just babies, some of them. And, between the seven of them, they’ve had problems with damn near half the population of Derry, but none of the toddlers ever gave them any shit.

Two months ago, kids started disappearing. Young kids.

It’s not Jessica’s job to save this town. God knows none of these assholes ever looked after her. But Natasha isn’t going to overlook anyone hurting kids, even an immortal carnivorous clown.

And where Natasha goes, Jessica follows. For the view, if nothing else.

So Jane and Maria started doing research, and Jessica and Brunnhilde started asking questions, and then they all took a tour of the sewers, which was exactly the kind of bullshit bonding experience Jessica would’ve preferred to replace with a stolen bottle of bourbon and maybe a Texas Chainsaw Massacre marathon. But no one elected Jessica the party planner of this particular group, so they did it, and they lived through it. And they caught the monster’s attention.

Two weeks ago, Clint showed up at school with fresh bruises and no hearing aids. And then it was Jane, crying in homeroom, staring out the window like the world was ending outside. Maria, with her clean, sensible nails gone ragged and bloody and ripped to the quick. Carol, pale and red-eyed and quiet.

They’ve been having nightmares. All of them. Asleep and awake. This fucking thing, it’s such a coward. Never comes at them where they can reach. But that’s okay, because now they’ve come for it.

Jessica shifts her grip on the baseball bat. She hammered nails through it earlier. Brunhilde has a sawblade through hers, because Jane has a crush and access to powertools. Carol has a sledgehammer, Clint has his bow, Maria has a crowbar, and Jane has bear mace and a butane torch. Natasha, being Natasha, has three separate knives.

There are things Jessica would’ve done back at the start of summer, if she knew they were going to end up here.

She would’ve kissed Natasha weeks ago, instead of waiting until Natasha came scrambling bloody-knuckled and silent through her window in the middle of the night, not making a single Goddamn sound until she was safely wrapped under the blankets with Jessica. And even then, her only sounds had been these small, suffocated noises, like a trapped animal, like something bleeding out.

Jessica could’ve kissed her on the sidewalk outside of school, in the sunlight, where the whole town had to see. But she kissed her in the darkness, because this fucking clown made her think it was her last chance.

This creature is a dumb, hungry monster, eats every innocent thing it finds, so it probably doesn’t even appreciate what it took from them. Nat deserved better. Jessica had all these plans. And this stupid clown, this kid-eating bullshit freakshow, ruined them.

“If that thing touches you,” Jessica says, voice pitched quiet enough that maybe only Nat will hear, “I’m gonna feed it its own fucking hands.”

Natasha smiles at her, sideways, slanted-up. She’s wearing a tank top and leggings, combat boots and Jessica’s flannel shirt. She ditched dance practice to butcher a psychotic sewer-demon, and Jessica can’t breathe when Nat looks at her like that, when she looks like that. Like some kind of homicidal ballerina lumberjack. Lean, and doll-pretty, and lethal.

Nat has a knife in either boot, and one in her hand. “I’m going to give you its heart,” she says. Soft and sweet, like she’s promising a kiss.

Jessica has a well-earned reputation for being a bruiser and a nightmare, but Nat’s the real killer, between the pair of them. Best dancer in the state, with the thighs and calves to prove it. She could knock a horse on its ass with a single kick.

She routinely knocks Jessica on her ass with less than that.

“Why the hell are you going to give me its heart?” Jessica says, trying desperately not to be charmed by the offer.

Natasha hums, shrugs a shoulder. Her dark red hair sweeps across her back. “Don’t you collect them?” she asks. “You took mine.”

#writing #fic #fill #spooky season fic

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derpyslurpy-da-derp-master · 5 years

Note

All of WLW ask

Alrighty! 1. How long have you known you liked girls?

For two or three years I believe, might be a bit off I’m really bad at time perception.

2. Talk about the girl who made you realize you liked girls

Well my first crush was on a girl but I wasn’t physically attracted to her and loved her because I had known her for so long and cared about her so much. However the person that actually made me experience my first physical attraction to women which kinda blew off the cap and made me get to my current ‘ALL WOMEN ARE QUEENS’ state was actually a voice actress/stage actress, Ikuta Teru, aka the voice of Futaba from Revue Starlight. The first time I saw her in the Revue Starlight live action musical my brain short circuited and I was completely and utterly floored, it did NOT help that Teru’s an actual Casanova and spent most of her time on stage being a charming ladykiller so there was also that.

3. Are you in a relationship at the moment?

Nope.

4. Do you have a crush at the moment?

I... Don’t know actually. I’ve had one crush in my life and it was on a girl I had no chance with who also was just a horrendous match for me and that would’ve been a toxic relationship. I’ve had two maybe-crushes since. It’s really hard to tell if the feelings I have towards a different girl is actually a crush or me being so starved of healthy good relationships.

5. Describe your crush!

Well, uh, problem there. The girl I mentioned above had a tumblr. So I’m not gonna do that even though I’m not sure if it’s a crush or not. Generally speaking, the two girls that I’ve had maybe-crushes on (not my first crush) have one big thing in common-They’re kind. Incredibly kind. They make me feel... Well, they make me feel unquestionably loved. That’s why it’s so hard to sort my feelings out. My first crush emotionally felt the same as before I had said crush, the only change was me realizing just how much I cared about her. I have a lot of love in my heart and I love my friends so much, especially the ones that genuinely make me feel loved like these two. So yeah.

6. Do you tend to like more masculine, feminine, or androgynous girls?

I don’t really care about appearances, I find every single girl adorable, beautiful, or hot. If you mean the type that turns me into a gay disaster, it’d be more masculine leaning if that’s the phrasology you’re looking for. I mean my gay awakening was Ikuta freaking Teru so that should give a pretty good idea about my type. That and tomboys, a few years ago at a Theatre camp there was this girl who showed up every day wearing one of those shirts with massive holes in the sides that almost make it not a shirt anymore and a tanktop and for some reason always had a flannel tied around her waist and I literally couldn’t talk to her the whole week because every time I looked at her my brain malfunctioned.

7. Do you look/dress more masculine, feminine, or androgynous?

I don’t really put much thought into my appearance but I dress pretty androgynous though my first Prom I showed up wearing a Catra-inspired suit and I felt so goddamn cool so leaning towards Masculine a little.

8. What’s your gaydar like?

Accurate usually. It’s REALLY easy to pick fellow lesbians out since some of us have a pretty distinct way of dressing/acting.

9. Tall girls or short girls?

Short, it makes cuddles and hugs easier. Though I reiterate, appearance doesn’t matter too much to me at all.

10. Intimidating girls or kind girls?

KIND. Please please please kind! I’m a really positive person so I’ve attracted a LOT of negative people in my life and I want nothing more than my future girlfriend to be somebody who’s so genuine and kind with me that I don’t have to be scared in the back of my mind that they actually don’t like me.

11. Hugs or kisses?

I’ve never been kissed so hugs probably? I mean I’m touch starved so hugs are always good anyways.

12. Do you have an ideal ‘type’? What would they be like?

Not really, appearances don’t matter to me. My ‘type’ is kind, loving girls who are easy to read and never leave me second guessing myself or wondering if I did something wrong. Basically, the exact opposite of my first crush.

13. What’s your favourite personality trait of yours?

The fact that I am basically a Golden Retriever in a human body. I’m not exaggerating or joking, ask my mutuals and they’ll probably affirm the fact that I am a literal puppy.

14. What’s your favorite personality trait for a girl to have?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; being kind. I’ve had my own kindness taken advantage of a LOT by people who called me a friend then turned around and emotionally abused me relentlessly. Someone who is genuinely kind, someone who cares about me not because they want something from me but because that’s just who they are... That’s my favorite personality trait.

15. What’s the best thing about liking girls?

where the actual entire fresh frosted fruity pebbles to I begin. How about how every girl is wonderful? How no matter what every girl is cute or beautiful? How they give really good hugs? How they’re so much easier to have a deeper emotional connection with? How all women, no joke, are queens?

16. Do you have any friends who are wlw?

Kind of? My fellow Lesbian’s that I know IRL are, uh, not... Not that great. I don’t know if friend is even the right word. My best friend’s a bi girl though so that counts.

17. Have you ever been to pride? If so, what was your first pride like?

Unfortunately no. I’m still very much closeted. I live in a small town in the middle of Kansas, it’s not safe.

18. Do you like the lesbian flag?

Mhm! Especially the newer one with the oranges in it, not only do the colors actually mean something now but it’s also much more pleasing to look at with the contrast.

19. What was your first kiss with a girl like?

I’ve never been kissed, I’m still closeted.

20. Who was your celebrity/fictional gay awakening?

*cough cough*

21. What’s your favourite lgbt+ movie?

I’ve never actually seen any LGBT+ movies, closeted, remember?

22. Who’s your favourite openly wlw celebrity?

I actually don’t know any, then again I barely know any kind of celebrities in the first place.

23. Do you wear makeup?

No and you can’t make me.

24. Who was the first person you came out to (if you have)?

My small friend group. The entire squad is LGBT+ so it was just another Tuesday.

25. Has anyone ever come out to you?

Kind of? My small friend group kinda did but it wasn’t a big thing it was just ‘Oh yeah by the way I’m a lesbian she’s a lesbian and she’s pan.’ and I was just all ‘A’ight.’

26. Have you found a community of lgbt+ people?

Online mostly. Like I said it’s not particularly safe for me to be out so unless I know FOR CERTAIN they’re LGBT+ and I also trust them a great deal I won’t ever tell a soul that I’m a Lesbian.

27. Do you have any older lgbt+ people you look up to?

Yeah, I think so. My friends I met on the Revue Starlight Hell discord server, at least I THINK they’re older than me but you never know.

28. Do you identify with butch/femme labels?

Not quite, I mean, I’m kinda hard to sort into either. I like dressing sharp sometimes in a suit but also my hair is long and naturally incredibly curly and I normally dress real neutral so idk

29. Who’s your favorite fictional wlw?

These two, 100%. Their romance is literally two girls falling in love with their best friend and I can relate to that so much, not to mention they’re just so adorable and sweet they gave me diabetes a long time ago.

30. What experiences are you looking forward to having in the future (kissing a girl, going to pride, etc)?

Having a GF, having someone to cuddle, actually experiencing what a kiss is like, having someone to cuddle, finally going to Pride, did I mention having a cuddle buddy?

#Ask #WLW #Hi im gay #Original

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my-name-is-reginald-george · 6 years

Text

Regina’s First Pride

Regina’s outfit was meticulously planned: a light pink crop top with dark pink high waisted shorts, pale pink Vans and knee-high lesbian flag socks. She looked hot, if she did say so herself, and she marched up the steps to Janis’ front door like she owned the place, her bag full of carefully selected tubes of paint thrown haphazardly over her shoulder.

Janis answered the door looking more excited than Regina had ever seen her. She was wearing the same ripped black shorts layered over tights that she wore every day, a borderline fashion crime that Regina had grown surprisingly fond of, but she’d swapped out her usual baggy jacket with a red checkered flannel and wearing ten times more gay than she’d ever dare at school. Rainbow socks peeked out of rainbow-laced combat boots, her black t-shirt had the words “I’m gay” written in big rainbow letters on the front, she was wearing a rainbow belt and even fucking rainbow suspenders.

She was grinning so big that Regina decided it didn’t even matter that her flannel clashed with all the rainbow accessories.

“So are you excited for your first pride?!” Janis asked, her eyes lighting up in that way that had Regina swooning just a little.

“Very excited,” Regina said. “Thanks so much for coming with.”

“Of course!” Janis said. “We’re all friends now. Oh, and Damien said to tell you he wishes he could be here and sends his love from Florida.”

Regina laughed. She loved her friends.

Since getting hit by the bus near the end of last year, she’d lost a lot of her power. Sure, people still moved out of her way in the halls, and she could still make freshmen boys cry with a well placed glare, but people were less intimidated by her, less worshipful.

However, she’d strengthened her relationships with both Karen and Gretchen, cutting out the power dynamics of their old friendships and replacing them with sleepovers and movie marathons and secrets that actually stayed secret. Also, with the help of an over enthusiastic Cady, she’d become pretty good friends with Janis and Damien. The latter was easy as she and Damien were both very extra and very gay, and once she stopped being a massive bitch, friendship between the two was almost effortless. They spent a lot of time together in Damien’s basement binge watching RuPaul and painting each other’s nails.

Janis had been harder. Another downside to not being a massive bitch was that you actually had to feel things, and as soon as Regina had allowed herself to have human emotions, which happened to be at the end of Spring Fling, she’d been hit with a wave of guilt so hard that she thought she was going to throw up. She immediately stumbled over to Janis, tears forming in her eyes and apologies rolling off her lips. Admittedly, it must have been quite the sight: Regina George in all her spinal halo-d glory, mascara streaking down her face as she bawled her eyes out to Janis Sarkisian.

Eventually, Janis had realized that Regina was on a lot of drugs and probably was not going to stop crying anytime soon, so she dragged her outside the school and sat her down on a bench, trying to calm the hysterics.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but please forgive me,” Regina had said, looking down at her lap.

“I forgave you as soon as you got hit by that bus,” Janis said back.

Regina had looked up at that, catching Janis’ soft smile and giving her a rather watery one back.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna trust you right away, and doesn’t mean I’m not gonna totally make you make it up to me, but yeah. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I tried to mess up your life, and I’m sorry you got hit by that bus.”

“Don’t be, I deserved it,” Regina had told her, laughing bitterly.

Janis had shook her head, looked directly into her eyes and said something Regina would never forget, “You didn’t deserve to die, if only for a few seconds.”

The air was tense around them for a few seconds before Janis had shrugged and added, “Maybe you deserved Cady stealing your boyfriend, though. I’m not all that sorry about that one.”

“They’re cute together. And besides, I didn’t really care about Aaron all that much. Or Shane. Or any guy, for that matter.”

And that was how Regina George had come out to Janis Sarkisian.

Since then, she and Janis had gone from tolerating each other, to kind of enjoying each other’s presence, to actively making plans to hang out, to becoming friends. They still weren’t as close as they were in eighth grade, and Janis was still more closed off with Regina than she was with the others, but Janis was even more amazing that Regina remembered, and their friendship was so much more than she deserved.

So, yeah, Regina might not be the HBIC she used to be, but she wouldn’t trade any of her friends for all of that power back. She was glad to be a part of their odd group of plastics and art freaks and Aaron and even the mathletes, who were way more tolerable than Regina would have ever expected.

“Earth to Regina,” Janis teased, waving her hand in front of Regina’s face.

“Sorry, what?” Regina said, blushing a little.

Janis just rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and grabbed Regina’s wrist, pulling her into her house and shutting the door behind them.

“I said we need to get your face paint done so we can head out.”

Ten minutes later, Regina and Janis were sat on the kitchen floor, Regina’s paints between them. Janis was painting a little lesbian pride flag on Regina’s right cheek, careful strokes of pink streaking across delicate skin.

“So what were you thinking about that had you zoning out earlier?” Janis asked, swirling her brush in a cup of water set off to the side.

“Just how much I love you losers,” Regina said with a smile. Only a few months ago, she would’ve been loathe to admit she cared about them at all, but a lot had changed in those few months.

“It’s nice when your friends aren’t just your friends because they’re scared of you, isn’t it?” Janis said, giving Regina a look that was half pointed half teasing.

Regina rolled her eyes and murmured in agreement just as Janis’ stomach growled. She looked up at Janis, who was still painting and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Jan?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you eat this morning?”

“No,” Janis mumbled, still not meeting Regina’s eye.

Regina huffed.

“Babe, we talked about this. How many times do Cady and I have to tell you that it’s not healthy to skip breakfast? Especially not when we’re about to be out walking around in the sun for hours. You need something on your stomach to keep your strength, ideally protein.”

Janis furrowed her brow, continuing to paint Regina’s face with more concentration than was probably necessary. She finished the last stripe before answering.

“I just forgot this morning because I was so excited about pride. Geez, you don’t have to give me a lecture.”

Regina bit back the, “Clearly, I do,” on the tip of her tongue.

“You’re right,” she said instead. “I shouldn’t have been so condescending about it. It’s your life and your health, so I can’t tell you what to do. I just care about you and want you to be healthy, Jan. Can I make you some eggs?”

Janis seemed thoroughly surprised with that and nodded dumbly, moving to get the eggs out of the fridge.

“I guess you’re kinda right, too,” she said, her back to Regina. “I should take better care of myself.”

Regina smirked in victory and grabbed a pan from the cabinet below the stove. She turned on the burner and popped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster while she waited for it to heat up. Janis packed the paints back up while Regina scrambled an egg on the stove.

“I see you’ve made yourself something, too,” Janis grinned, eyeing Regina’s toast, which she’d covered in peanut butter and bananas, once they were sat at the table.

“Yeah, well, I figured it’d be awkward if I just sat here and watched you eat.”

Janis shrugged, scooping a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“That’s fair.”

After they ate, Janis tried to leave immediately, but Regina dragged Janis back into the kitchen by one of her suspenders and made her help with the dishes, arguing that it wasn’t fair to Janis’ single mother to leave dirty breakfast dishes out.

When they finally left, Janis spent a solid five minutes trying to convince Regina to hop on the back of her motorcycle, but although Regina had become a lot nicer and more considerate of other people’s thoughts and feelings, she was still the most stubborn person at Northshore, and she was decidedly not going to ride on the bike any time soon.

They went in Regina’s little black hybrid convertible (Regina may have been a bitch, but she’d always cared about the environment, she was just more vocal about it now). Janis nabbed the aux cord and forced Regina to listen to Arctic Monkeys, a band the blonde refused to admit she kinda liked, and soon enough, they were searching for a parking spot.

“Alright, so we’re gonna watch the parade, and then we’re gonna go hang out in a nearby field for the rest of the day,” Janis said as they got out of the car.

“A field?” Regina said, cocking her head to the side. Just because she cared about the environment didn’t mean she really enjoyed being outdoors. Outdoors was dirty, and she didn’t have the time, the patience, or the outfits for dirt.

Janis smirked and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her towards an empty spot on the side of the street.

“Trust me, princess. You’re gonna love it.”

Regina loved it. When the first float passed, a bunch of drag queens voguing to Lady Gaga, she decided immediately that this was going to be one of the best experiences of her life. Apparently, the people who marched in these parades tended to hand out something, like candy or ribbons or pins or plastic mardi gras necklaces. All of Regina’s things went into her backpack, but Janis wore anything she possibly could, which included tucking a lollipop in a rainbow wrapper behind her ear and pouting when it fell on the concrete and cracked.

Regina got the attention of a lot of the queer girl marchers (which, like, duh. Have you seen her?), and Janis attracted a fair amount of girls, too, which increased the amount of stuff they got tenfold, making her doubly glad she brought her backpack. Regina could have sworn Janis’ megawatt smile dampened every time one of the marchers, or sometimes other onlookers, would ask for Regina’s number. She shook off the feeling, figuring she was probably just being delusional and remembering that she was still trying to get over her (not so) small crush on Janis, and ended up pulling a pen from her bag and writing her number down on a fair amount of hands, ending up with a few written up her own arm.

After the parade was over, Janis bought them tacos from one of the food trucks parked in the field where the rest of the event was being held. They sat on a picnic bench a little ways away from the makeshift stage where the hayley kiyoko cover band was playing. She smiled softly at Janis, kicking at her ankle and taking a big bite out of her taco. There was something about being surrounded by other queer people that was just magical and right.

If you had told junior year Regina George that she was going to feel happier than she ever had when she was sitting on a picnic table outside, dressed like a human lesbian pride flag and eating greasy food truck tacos next to Janis Sarkisian of all people, she would have laughed in your face. But there Regina was, feeling nothing but cheerfulness and utter belonging.

#mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #regina george x janis sarkisian #regina x janis #fanfic #mine #i might write more rejanis if you guys like this #idk i just have a lot of ideas for them

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Back in Black (Trixya) - fueledbymemes

AN: hey! i saw this ask for someone to write a fic like this, so i just did?? this is my first fic submission, so let me know if you all like it! ~ word count: 7552

Trixie only felt like this around Katya. She only got the butterflies in her stomach, the hot face, and sweaty hands when she entered that damned study hall room. She had no idea how to treat the situation on anybody’s terms, so she just sat in the back and observed Katya’s personality.

Not saying that Trixie has no idea who Katya is, they’ve only just talked a handful of times. Trixie is far too scared to try to have an actual conversation with her. Plus her anxiety is way too high to even attempt at something like that.

That’s why when Katya walked in, Trixie’s breath hitched as she looked at the girl. Her raven colored hair perfectly matched with her black, ripped jeans and jacket.

This has been Trixie’s life for the past four months. It’s all she ever did and all she ever thought about doing.

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t stare at Katya the whole period since she actually had homework today. Trixie got out her algebra binder to do the study guide packet for the upcoming test in two weeks. She always got her homework done early so she can have as many free days in study hall as she could. Although, that doesn’t mean she didn’t catch a few glances at her between pages.

After the bell rang, Trixie put away her stuff in a hurry. She looked up and watched Katya leave the room, immediately feeling her face warm up when they made eye contact for a very brief second. Trixie went straight to the bathroom to check up on her hair and makeup.

As always, her blonde curled hair and fleeky makeup was done to absolute perfection. She turned slightly in the mirror to make sure her outfit was okay as well. She wore creamish-yellow shorts and a light pink blouse that complimented her thick body perfectly. It was the one thing that Trixie liked. Nowadays, people thrived off of thick or curvy bodies on girls, and Trixie was the perfect example of that. The only annoying thing about it was any and every straight guy.

Trixie left the bathroom and walked to her next class by herself. The rest of the day was boring and useless. Her mind was stuck on Katya as usual, and she only got happy if she saw her in the hallway in-between classes.

~~~

By the end of the week, Trixie is surprised to say that she hasn’t talked to Katya once. Once she left the study hall room, she looked down at her outfit. She had on a pink mini-skirt and a white, off shoulder, long-sleeved shirt, then an oversized light blue jean jacket to top it off.

Trixie ranted to her best friend, Kim as they walked home together. At least it was Friday. “Kim, I don’t understand. I’m a good person, and I always look cute- or at least I always try to look cute. Why can’t I catch Katya’s eye?” She asked, huffing.

Kim chuckled, looking at her outfit. “Well, would you like me to give you the ‘cutsey friendly’ answer, or the probable truth?” She asked. Trixie crossed her arms, “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I want the truth.” She reasoned.

“It’s probably because you dress like a Barbie doll. You’re basically if Barbie were a thick lesbian.” Kim told her, and Trixie scoffed out a laugh. “Okay, well at least I don’t look like I’m dressing like a twelve year old.” She reasoned, but Kim shook her head. “You have the style that every twelve year old wants.”

Trixie sighed, “Are you saying that Katya finds me childish?” She asked, but Kim immediately shook her head. “No, no. What I’m saying is that you need to observe what Katya’s friend group looks like. They all dress in dark clothes, not pink. They get black coffee, not pink drinks. They hang out at skate parks, not alone at home. They read, they don’t draw. You get what I’m saying, Trix?”

Trixie nodded, looking up to see that they were stopped in front of her driveway. “Alright, thanks for the insight, Kim.” She said, hugging her friend before running down her driveway excitedly, wanting to raid her closet for anything she could find that matched Katya’s style.

Long story short, Trixie found a handful of good articles of clothing in her closet, then went out shopping with her mom later that night to get some actual good outfits.

~~~

That Monday, Trixie showed up at school with black, high waisted jeans and a black crop top that stopped above her belly button. She had a dark red flannel around her waist and black vans on her feet. Her hair was straightened instead of curled, and she wore dark red lipstick rather than pink lip gloss.

The skinny jeans fit her in the way that would make people wonder how her parents left her leave the house like that, and her bright blue eyes were lined with her usual winged eyeliner. Her highlight was poppin and everything about her was irresistible.

When she first walked in, Trixie went to the bathroom to do an outfit check and almost did a double take. She almost wasn’t sure she was still the same person. She knew she looked like a whole snack, and she would hold her head up in pride.

That day in study hall, Trixie sat in the back as usual and pulled out a copy of “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky. She had her assignments done ahead of time as usual, which meant she had enough time to read some damn book.

Trixie was so focused on her new character, she didn’t even realize that Katya sat beside her. When the bell rang, Trixie looked up to the direction that her crush usually sat in as a force of habit, but got worried when she saw she wasn’t in the seat. Trixie immediately looked around the room, jumping when she saw that Katya was sitting next to her instead.

Katya chuckled softly when she saw Trixie jump. “Sorry to scare you.” She said honestly. “I just wanted a change in environment for the day, and you’re always alone back here.” Katya pointed out, glancing up and down at Trixie. Trixie felt her face get hot, she just went along with it. “Oh, okay.” She said, the only thing she can think of as a response.

Katya nodded and picked up her own book, starting to read it. Trixie watched her for a few moments before sighing, picking up her own book to read.

Trixie would’ve noticed Katya shut her book and look at her, but she was too busy reading the damned book. Katya just smiled in amusement, she turned to face Trixie and rest her cheek on her hand as she looked over. “Trixie.” She spoke, hoping that’d get her attention.

Trixie jumped slightly, but not enough for it to be noticeable. She just looked over at Katya, hoping her face wasn’t too red for that to be noticeable either. “Yeah?”

Katya smiled a bit, still just amused by Trixie. “You’re wearing black today,” Katya pointed out. “There has never been a day that I’ve seen you wear all dark colors, let alone all black. Plus you straightened your hair. You almost never do that.” She pointed out again.

Trixie just shrugged. She got even more flustered just thinking about how Katya would even think about noticing any of these things. She cleared her throat before speaking up, “I don’t get what you’re trying to do here.” She told Katya honestly. But Katya just shrugged in return, “Neither do I.” She said back, turning away from Trixie to focus on her own book.

~~~

“No, you literally don’t understand. We’ve had longer conversations before, and she’s sat by me like three other times before. The only thing special about it was that she pointed out my outfit. Pointed out, Kim. Not complemented.” Trixie was on a call with her best friend, ranting to her about how today went. “The only people I caught the attention of was any and all fuckboys in the school with the classic line, ‘you just haven’t been with the right guy yet.’ This was useless and a waste of money, even if I did look hot, I’d rather go back to my cutesey outfits.”

Kim shook her head, even if Trixie wasn’t able to see it. “Trixie, take a deep breath, alright? You’re overreacting over literally nothing. It’s Monday, and it was the first time you dressed like that. Just tell the guys to fuck off like usual.” Kim told her.

Trixie sighed, “Alright, whatever. I’m doing my homework then going to bed.” She said, they both said their goodbyes before hanging up. Trixie stood up and put the clothes back in her closet before getting out her backpack to do her homework. It was gonna be a long, boring night.

~~~

Trixie woke up at 5:30 AM as usual, which gave her enough time to get a shower, do her hair, her makeup, pick out an outfit, and go to Starbucks.

Trixie spent the most time in the bathroom, and after getting her shower, she dried her hair with a blow dryer. Since her hair had a lot of volume and was long, it took nearly fifteen minutes for it all to be perfectly dry.

Afterwards, she plugged in her straightener and quickly did her makeup to pass the time. Since she didn’t really do anything different other than lip color. She just did a modern day natural makeup. Nude eyeshadow, winged liner, mascara, light contour, and highlight.

Trixie picked up the flat iron and ran it through her hair to make sure it would be perfectly straight. Luckily, she was patient when it came to her morning routine, so she never rushed.

Once done, Trixie unplugged the straightener and walked out of her bathroom and to her closet. She picked out an outfit and went to her bathroom to change from her night clothes to new clothes.

Trixie walked out of the bathroom to look at the outfit, wanting to make sure it looked good on her. Even though nearly everything she wore perfectly complimented her body. Today she had black ripped jeans with black fishnets underneath. She had a black and grey shirt with a small alien head on the pocket of it.

She nodded to herself, pleased with the aesthetic of the outfit. Trixie put her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, walking over to grab her bag and keys. After putting on a pair of black converse, she went downstairs, shutting the door behind her. She yelled goodbye to her mom and got to her car, driving to Starbucks.

She ordered a regular black coffee, and waited patiently as she watched them pour her cup. When Trixie looked at the cup, she chuckled to herself at the name spelled wrong, the cup read 'Tricksy.’ Well, close enough.

When she turned around to leave the coffee place, she accidentally bumped into someone. Trixie immediately apologized, and her eyes widened when she saw it was Adore Delano, who was one of Katya’s closest friends. No, Katya’s closest friend.

Adore apologized as well, but nearly did a double take as she looked at Trixie. “Damn, I almost didn’t see who you were.” She said, almost shocked. The two were in choir together, so they talked more often than Trixie talks to Katya. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you literally make people cum in their pants just by looking at you. Like, goddamn. You look like you’re in my clique.”

Trixie giggled at Adore’s choice of words. “I doubt that’s even possible, but thanks, I think? It’s just a bit of a social experiment if you think about it from my perspective, it’s not gonna last too long.”

Adore just smiled at her, “Well, it was a compliment. But seriously, good luck trying to reject so many people at once. See you later!” Adore said and waved, walking up to get in the line. Trixie smiled to herself as she left, kinda hopeful for today.

~~~

Trixie walked into the study hall room and sat in the back, fixing her hair to be out of her hair from out of her face. The taste of plain black coffee was still in her mouth, and it wasn’t the most enjoyable taste that she’s had. She’d rather a frappe or something other than regular hot coffee.

Instead of reading right away, Trixie waited to see Katya walk in the room. Although, she sat in her regular seat by her friends rather than in the back again. Katya didn’t even glance at Trixie.

Trixie was a bit taken aback by this, but it was nothing to cry over. She was a mature girl, and she wasn’t gonna get upset over her crush pretending she didn’t exist.

She sighed, getting out the book she had in her bag and reading it. Trixie didn’t know what she did wrong, but she was probably overreacting. When the bell rang, Trixie watched Katya leave as usual, except this time, Katya didn’t look at her.

~~~

By the end of the week, Trixie was turning into a mess as the days went on. The last time she talked to Katya was on Monday, and Kim’s plan was completely irrelevant. Trixie wasn’t giving up though, so she tried a second week.

It was the middle of the week. Trixie was wearing a black skater skirt, a midnight blue crop top, and a black leather jacket. She had no idea why she was still trying, but she told herself that if it didn’t work by the end of the month, then she’d just give up with it.

She got her coffee at Starbucks, the misspelled name that she had almost every morning. Trixie waved to Adore as she did every morning, and left the small shop with the coffee in her hands.

When Trixie got to the school, she was on time like she was everyday. She stood against the lockers as she waited for the bell to ring for school to start. She would’ve sat on the staircase, but her dress was too short for that.

While she was waiting, Trixie read her book to indicate that she did not want to be talked to or that she wasn’t planning on talking to anybody. That didn’t stop most guys though, and today’s guy of the day is Heath (it’s a made up name, nobody in the drag world).

He walked beside Trixie and tried to put his arm around her waist. She jumped and stepped back, looking him in the eye. “Not cool, dude.” She said honestly, rolling her eyes and going back to attempting to reading her book.

Heath chuckled, taking a step closer again. “What’s 'not cool’ is your attitude. I’m sure you didn’t mean that, huh, baby girl?” He said, trying again with her by attempting to put her hair behind her ear.

Trixie huffed, pushing his hand away and putting her book and coffee on the ground after marking her spot in the book. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, okay? Just piss off, I’m not interested.” She said, crossing her arms to show that he wasn’t allowed to touch her through body language.

“You haven’t even given me a chance, baby girl. You’re actually like I’m going to slit your neck or some shit.” Heath reasoned, getting offended about it over nothing.

“Not interested in guys, including you. Don’t call me that either, if you try to get in my pants again, you’re probably gonna get kicked on the balls.” Trixie said honestly, keeping her pride high so Heath knew she wasn’t joking around.

“Tough crowd..” was all Heath said before walking away, obviously disappointed. Trixie knew that she shouldn’t have to tell guys off on a daily routine, but it happened anyways.

Trixie kneeled down to pick up her book, just in time for the bell to ring. She walked to her locker to get all the stuff for her morning classes. She sat down in her desk once she got to first period, keeping to herself as usual.

She took a sip of the coffee, thankful that the teacher lets the kids have food in the classroom since it was the beginning of the day. Trixie pulled out the book, putting a strand of hair behind her ears so it wouldn’t be in her face when she was trying to read.

Trixie crossed her legs as she sat, humming to herself as she swung one of her legs as a force of habit. She took another sip of her coffee, setting it down at the corner of her desk. At least Trixie was starting to get used to the strongness of regular coffee, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

When the teacher walked in, Trixie averted her attention to the front of the classroom. She sighed to herself, closing the book willingly as she looked up at the teacher.

Trixie was starting to feel as if she were blank, like if she was a robot. She hated not being able to add some fun colors to her life again. She knew she looked damn hot, but it wasn’t worth giving up so much for.

Kim would only tell her that miracles just don’t happen overnight and that she needs to learn how to be patient about it. That’s the thing, though. Katya hasn’t talked to her in almost two weeks now, her plan was going nowhere. Trixie was getting attention from nearly everyone in the school- just not Katya.

Trixie let her mind wander for the rest of the class rather than letting herself pay attention. She’d much rather think about anything and everything wrong with herself at the moment than listen to the science of the periodic table.

~~~

Trixie walked into the study hall room, immediately thinking about how the fuck she was going to catch Katya’s eye. It was unusual, they at least made awkward eye contact a few times a day. Let alone Katya asking for homework answers every few days.

Trixie didn’t understand, she looked like the definition of irresistible and she has for the past week and a half. She didn’t know what she was doing wrong, but she didn’t stop trying to think about what she was doing wrong.

She yawned tiredly, resting her head on her hand as she got out that damn book to read, just wanting to make sure that she’d keep herself busy somehow.

Katya walked in as the late bell rang, she seemed to be out of breath, but when Trixie looked up to glance at her, Katya had a mischievous grin on her face.

The study hall teacher looked up from his desk, obviously seeing that Katya was nearly late. He stood up and walked over to Katya’s desk and crossed his arms, looking at her. “Miss Zamo, may I ask why you were late?” He asked.

Katya looked up at him, obviously not phased. The grin was still on her lips and didn’t fade. “Well you see,” Katya started, taking off her leather jacket as she kept the eye contact. “I wasn’t late, I came in before the bell stopped ringing.” She told him with confidence, sitting back in the desk.

The teacher luckily had a slight sense of humor, which was why he chuckled at Katya’s reply. “Fine then, you got me there. May I ask why you were almost late?” He reworded.

Katya shrugged, crossing her arms as the smile never left her lips. “I was taking care of someone. Specifically, I was setting a guy straight.” She said honestly. The teacher raised an eyebrow as Katya’s comment. “Was it in a way that would get you in trouble?” He asked.

Katya chuckled, shaking her head. “God, no. I don’t handle things physically, I handle things verbally. He thought it would be cute to violate a girls’ personal space and well being this morning, and I made sure he knew that it wasn’t as cute as he thought. And now he’s gonna apologize for his stunt or else I’m gonna blackmail him.”

The teacher nodded, not really minding. “As long as you’re staying out of trouble.” He said and walked back to his desk.

Trixie raised an eyebrow at Katya’s statement, and she didn’t take her eyes off of her. Although, she didn’t see it coming when Katya turned around to look at Trixie, winking at her with the usual smile before turning back around.

Trixie blushed darkly, looking down and letting her mind wander, but before she could think too far, her eyes went to her phone since the screen lit up with a text notification.

Heath: sorry about earlier, i didn’t think i went that far. i’ll be more respectful and considerate.

That’s when Trixie knew; Katya is around when she doesn’t even know it.

~~~

For the rest of the week, it was dry as fuck. The only thing that happened was what all happened on Wednesday, but just as thought, for the rest of the week, nothing ever happened. It was almost like after something happens, Katya steps back from reality and ghosts Trixie hardcore.

Well, it meant Trixie and Kim’s plan was somewhat working, so she’d probably do it for a little bit longer than expected. That was okay for Trixie though, if it meant that any day has a potential for Katya to talk to her, she’s down to do anything and everything.

Although, ever since Katya stood up for her, Trixie can say that she’s been catcalled less. Of course it still happens, why wouldn’t it happen when she’s in a school with horny, straight, teen boys. She was definitely used to it, but it was nice to get a little bit of a break.

Trixie walked into the school, and anyone could easily be able to tell that she was tired as hell. She yawned tiredly as she walked over to Kim, not in the mood to stand by herself today.

Trixie was about to say hi, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Kim beat her to it. “Oh my God, Trixie. You look like you’re fucking dead, what the hell happened to you?” She asked immediately.

Trixie just shrugged, shaking her head. “I was up 'till like 4:45 in the morning. I don’t know what happened, I was organizing my closet so I could have outfit combinations for this week, then I did my homework since I was really behind from not doing it in study hall. After that, I went to go into my mom’s room so she could give me another book because I finished reading the other one all night.”

“Trixie, you’re so stupid, you know that? You’re telling me that you got less than an hour of sleep last night?” Kim asked, crossing her arms.

Trixie just nodded again, going down to sit on the floor. “I mean, at least I still got a shower and did my makeup. I could look a lot worse. Plus I didn’t waste time with an outfit since I picked out the layout for this week.” She mumbled out, pulling her knees to her chest so she can put down her head.

Kim kneeled down and picked up Trixie’s head, shaking her head no. “Trix, you’re gonna get foundation stains on your jeans. They’re black, remember?”

Trixie huffed and pushed Kim’s hand away, looking at her with an unreadable face. “I put on setting spray, it would’ve been fine, smart one.” She said, just wanting to sleep. It was gonna be a rough day already.

~~~

Trixie made it through her first two classes without falling asleep, she was walking to her third now, and nearly fell over a few times on the way there.

Adore was in this class with her, but she was known to be late. That’s why Trixie wasn’t phased when she didn’t see Adore anywhere after she sat down. The class started right away after the bell rang, which hurt Trixie’s head more than it did help.

Trixie’s eyes just became more blurry by the minute, and she started to close her eyes longer every time she would blink. After a few seconds, she jumped up at the sound of the classroom door opening, seeing it was Adore.

She just strided down the aisle of desks and sat down in her own. Even though the teacher was giving her a death glare, Adore didn’t give a fuck as she casually carried on with her life.

After the class settled down after a minute, the teacher went back to her lecture about who gives a shit. Trixie went back to starting out into nothingness as she felt her eyes get heavier and heavier, and before she knew it, she accidentally fell asleep in class.

After the fourty-five minutes of class, Trixie once again jumped awake. Except this time, it was to the sound of the bell ringing. She got her stuff and stood up to leave, before getting called out by the teacher. “Trixie, Adore; come up to my desk.”

Trixie glanced back to see Adore gathering her stuff as well and walking to the teachers’ desk at the same time and they both waited to get spoken to, that is, until Adore got patient and impatiently said, “What do you want?”

The teacher turned around and raised an eyebrow at the attitude in Adore’s voice. “Adore, you have detention next week for coming in late and for the attitude. Trixie, I’m a bit disappointed in you, you’re one of the best students in the class. I’m gonna have to give you a detention too, so you and Adore need to stay after on Tuesday next week.”

With a sigh, Trixie nodded and left the classroom. Adore followed beside her, “At least you won’t be alone though, right?” She said, trying to make Trixie feel better. Trixie just shrugged it off, “I mean, I guess you have a point.”

Trixie broke off into the study hall room and sat down in her usual seat, taking off the black leather jacket she had on today. Since it was a study hall, Trixie didn’t have to worry about staying awake in the slightest.

~~~

Trixie was stressed and felt like she could easily snap at any moment. Last week was rough, Katya didn’t do anything. Monday was the same, and today wouldn’t be any different since she had to stay after for a detention.

Trixie slept through her first alarm, and woke up fifteen minutes late, which made her entire morning routine fucked up. She rushed through everything but somehow ended up to only be four minutes off instead of fifteen.

She glanced in the mirror before leaving, making sure her outfit was good enough. She wore dark red, ripped jeans with fishnets underneath and black converse. For the upside, she had a white tank top and the leather jacket.

Once Trixie double checked, she rushed downstairs and went to get coffee. To make her morning even better, the line was longer than usual, which made her an extra three minutes behind schedule.

On her way out of the Starbucks, she ran into someone and spilt some of her black coffee on her white shirt. Trixie bit her tongue to refrain from showing that the hot liquid really did burn. She apologized to the person and put the lid back on her drink as she walked out of the cafe.

Trixie got to her car and put the drink in her cup holder, then reaching over to the glove box to get napkins so she can at least attempt to clean up the mess. She sighed at the failed attempt and picked up her coffee cup to take a drink. At least they spelled her name right.

Before leaving the parking lot, Trixie tried to zip up the jacket to hide the obvious, dark stain on her tank top. She cursed to herself when she couldn’t get the zipper all the way up since the leather wouldn’t stretch enough for her to zip past her chest.

She just said 'fuck it’ and drove to the school from the Starbucks after undoing the jacket zipper. Once Trixie pulled into the school parking lot, she saw Adore getting out of her own car with Katya getting out of the passenger seat.

Trixie huffed and decided to take the risk. Trixie knew that Adore always carried around extra clothes since she was prepared for literally anything and everything. She sighed, not believing she was about to face her crush like this as she walked towards the two girls.

“Hey Adore, can I ask for a quick and effortless favor?” Trixie asked, watching as Adore and Katya had a cigarette outside of the car.

Adore was about to answer before Katya spoke up instead. “Damn, girl. What the fuck happened to you?” She asked, hinting at the very obvious stain on her shirt. Trixie felt her face heat up, this was the first time Katya ever talked to her for more than two weeks. Adore nudged Katya to hint her to keep her mouth shut, but Katya just smirked. Adore rolled her eyes, “Sorry about Katya, what’s the favor?” Adore asked.

“Well, I hella spilt like half of my coffee on me this morning and my jacket won’t zip up all the way since my tits are too big and basically, I’m just a mess right now. So, I was wondering if you had an extra shirt that I could wear.” Trixie explained.

Adore frowned sympathetically and shook her head, “I took everything home last night so I could wash them. I’m sorry,” Adore said and looked at her. Trixie just smiled and shook her head, “No, it’s fine. I can ask Kim, she’ll proba-” Trixie explained but got cut off mid sentence. “I have a hoodie.”

Both Adore and Trixie’s eyes looked at Katya who spoke up. Adore smirked and kept her mouth shut as she dropped her cigarette and stepped on it to put it out. Katya ignored Adore and looked at Trixie, “Hold on, I’m gonna get it.” She announced and went to the passenger seat of the car to get a simple black hoodie, doing the same to her cigarette on the way there.

Katya walked back to the other two, handing Trixie the hoodie. Trixie took it and smiled, “Thank you, Katya.” She said genuinely, getting a small smile in return from Katya. “Of course, love.”

They all started to walk inside the school together, and since she was in a bit of a hurry, Trixie just put the hoodie over the jacket without taking it off. It was snug and fit on her, which meant it was meant to be oversized on Katya.

Once they got in the school, Trixie headed to the bathroom, but she turned around when she heard footsteps following behind her. “Mind if I come?” Katya asked, and Trixie’s face turned a shade or two darker as she blushed. “You can tag along.”

Trixie walked into the school’s bathroom, and Katya walked in with her. Katya hopped on the sink counter and looked at Trixie curiously. “I never knew you drank black coffee.” She said.

Trixie took off the hoodie and just shrugged, “I don’t, but I have for the past few weeks. Why you ask?” Trixie responded and set the hoodie down on the counter beside Katya.

Katya just shrugged in return. “I mean, I was just curious.” She stated then let the silence take over for a moment or so before speaking up again. “Are you going through an identity crisis or something? I don’t get why you literally changed yourself so drastically.”

Trixie blushed a bit and took off the jacket, handing it to Katya so she can hold onto it while she cleans up. “It’s a long story, I’d rather not explain it in detail. Basically, my friend and I thought that I should change up my style and preferences to get my crush’s attention. It kinda backfired though, it hasn’t really done any help.”

Katya hummed in thought as she swung her legs from the counter, looking down as she talked. “I mean, why would you want to do something like that just for another person? I don’t get it.” Katya stated, almost as if it was obvious.

Trixie looked at her and looked back down. She walked passed to pick up the black hoodie. “It would make me more interesting and catch her eye.” She said simply and walked into a stall. She took off the tank top and replaced it with the hoodie quickly, walking back out.

“Well, I think that’s a load of bullshit. Whether you believe it or not, you’re admirable without this whole getup. I think if you want to catch your crush’s attention, you should just be your usual self. Whoever it is probably didn’t realize what they had until you changed yourself. Or you can just keep lying to yourself.” Katya said and glanced at Trixie.

Trixie walked to the sink and washed the shirt with the shitty school soap and warm water. “Since when did you talk this much?” Trixie asked with a chuckle, trying to avoid Katya’s statement and her gaze so she wouldn’t be able to catch the blush on her face.

Katya chuckled and continued to swing her feet from the counter, “I talk a lot around people I’m close with.” She stated and brought up a hand to tuck her medium length blonde hair behind her ear.

Trixie chuckled and looked up at Katya in disbelief before going back to focus on desperately trying to get the stain out of the shirt, even though it wasn’t working as much as she hoped she did. “Katya, I’m not close with you. We’ve talked a few times since we’re in the same study hall.” Trixie pointed out.

Katya felt herself smirk as she looked to the side, getting a bit confident. “Well, I forgot to mention that I tend to talk a lot when I’m around really cute girls as well.” She said and looked back at Trixie, unapologetically eyeing her up and down. “Anyways, I gotta blast. I’ll see you in study hall.” She announced and hopped off of the counter and leaving the bathroom after setting down Trixie’s jacket. “Keep the hoodie if you want.”

Trixie’s face burned hot as she felt butterflies in her stomach. “O-okay,” she stuttered out, turning around as she watched Katya leave the bathroom. Trixie turned to face the mirror, her eyes still wide. “What the fuck,” she mumbled to herself. She picked up the jacket and walked out of the bathroom to find Kim.

Trixie found Kim and went up to her, “Kim, we need to talk, like right now.” She said in a hurry. Kim looked at her like how a mom were looking at her kid when she was about to yell at them for walking off in the store; stern but secretly worried. “Trixie, what the hell. You’re later than you usually are. Where did you even come from?”

“No time,” Trixie said before continuing her sentence. “Listen, something happened between Katya and I. When I went to get coffee this morning, I spilled it all over me. Then, when I got to the school parking lot, I saw Adore and Katya. I almost didn’t, but I had to go up to Adore and ask to see if she had a spare shirt since she always has half her closet in her car. Anyways, when she said no, Katya-”

Suddenly, Trixie got cut off by the bell ringing for school to start. Trixie muttered a quick 'fuck’ under her breath and looked at Kim. “I’ll text you it when I get to study hall.” She said and walked off to her locker.

~~~

Trixie walked into the study hall room and sat in the back, pulling out a book to read but just watch for Katya to walk in instead. Out of all the mixed signals she’s been getting from Katya, Trixie is just a bit more hopeful that she feels the same way.

Katya walked in and immediately locked eyes with Trixie as she did, giving a smile before sitting down in her own desk, doing her own thing.

Trixie felt herself smile happily before looking down at her book. After staring at it for about twenty seconds, she thought about what Katya told her earlier about how she should not be a fake version of herself. Trixie hummed and put down the book, getting out her homework she got from earlier classes and worked on that instead.

When Katya looked back at Trixie, she smiled to herself when she was back to doing her usual thing. She turned back around and went back to reading her book before Trixie would notice her stare.

Maybe Trixie’s luck wasn’t as bad today as she thought.

~~~

Trixie walked into the detention room, only to see that Adore has saved her a seat. Trixie smiled at her and sat down, adjusting her clothes after doing so. She sat back in her seat and sighed dramatically, acting impatient since she really wanted to talk to Adore.

After the fourty-five minutes of the detention was over, Trixie immediately spoke up before Adore said anything. “Hey, can I talk to you about something real quick?” She asked and stood up to walk with Adore out of the school.

“Sure, what’s up?” Adore asked and picked up her bag while walking beside her. Trixie blushed before talking, taking a deep breath. “Can you just tell me who Katya likes? I get a lot of mixed signals and I’m really confused. I just, like her a lot and I wanna know.” Trixie explained.

Adore chuckled and looked at Trixie like she was dumb for asking the question. “Alright, well if you wanna know. She had a small crush on you since last year, though it got a bit more serious a few months ago. When you changed up your style, she didn’t realize how much she liked the genuine you and that’s why she didn’t talk to you as much. She told me that when you end your 'social experiment’ of that, then she’d be around you more. Katya thought you looked sexy as fuck for sure, but she could tell it wasn’t the genuine you.”

Trixie blushed and felt her heart flutter, “Awww, I wish I would’ve known that sooner.” She said and put her hand over her heart. “Alright, I gotta go home so I can finish my homework and wash off my makeup.” Trixie said and waved bye to Adore, “See you tomorrow!”

Trixie ran to her car excitedly and unlocked it, sitting down and taking a moment to catch her breath before squealing excitedly. Her horrible day from this morning was now the best day of her life.

~~~

Trixie stopped at the bathroom to check her appearance quickly before walking into the study hall room. She was back to her normal self, finally. Her curly hair was done to perfection. Her outfit was a soft pink dress with a decorative white belt around her waist to exaggerate her hips and white thigh-highs.

She rushed into the study hall room, relieved to see she was the first one there. Trixie confidently walked over to Katya’s seat, where she almost always sat, and decided to sit there like she owned it. She crossed her legs and arms, slightly reclining in the seat.

Once Katya walked in the room to see Trixie both in her usual apparel and sitting in her seat like she owned the damn school, she gave an amused smile, walking over to Trixie. “You know that I sit there, princess. Right?”

Trixie looked up at her and smiled, blowing a bubble with her gum to add the cockiness and sass. “Yeah, I know. What ever shall you do?” Trixie asked.

Katya chucked and raised an eyebrow at Trixie, “Damn, you got attitude today. How about this, we’ll make a deal. If you give me my seat back, you get to take something of mine. Money, objects, clothes, makeup. Whatever your heart desires.”

Trixie’s eyes lit up and she smiled. “That just sounds like stealing with your permission.” She said and got up, letting Katya take her seat. Before she could get passed her, Trixie stopped her and shook her head. She leaned in so she could kiss Katya, her eyes fluttering shut when she felt their lips connect.

Katya was for sure taken by surprise, but she went with it. She kissed back and closed her eyes as well, bringing up her hand to hold Trixie’s face softly as they shared a kiss.

Once the late bell rang a few minutes later, Trixie pulled away and looked at Katya innocently. “Looks like I stole a kiss. Your move is next, love.” Trixie said and blew a kiss before walking back to her own seat to do homework like usual.

Katya turned around and watched Trixie go back to her own seat in literal awe. It took her a few seconds before she actually sat down in her seat. “What the hell just happened?” She mumbled to herself.

~~~

At the end of the day, Trixie walked to her locker so she could go home. She definitely felt happier today, which was all that was important. When she opened her locker, a note fell out and Trixie kneeled down to pick it up so she could read it.

'meet me at the park after school. take your time princess, i wouldn’t want you to feel rushed. xoxo -katya’

Trixie smiled to herself and folded back up the note, putting it in her bag before closing her locker shut. She pulled out her phone and quickly texted her mom to tell her that she’d be home late.

She walked out of the school and got in her car. Trixie started her car and started to drive to the park, which luckily, was less than a mile away from the school.

Once Trixie pulled into the park, she saw Katya alone, sitting on a bench. She smiled to herself at the sight, parking her car. Since the elementary schools and day-care centers still have kids, the park was pretty emptied out.

Trixie got out of the car and walked over to the bench where Katya was sitting. Katya’s eyes lit up when she saw Trixie sit next to her, “You look lovely.” She commented and sat up straighter.

Trixie chuckled softly, “Thanks. So, am I allowed to ask why you told me to come here?” She asked curiously, but Katya smiled with anticipation. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, princess.”

Trixie liked the way it sounded when Katya called her princess. She tilted her head to the side slightly with an amused smile, “Since when did you give me pet names?” She asked.

Katya smirked slightly at the question, “I always did, I just never did to your face.” She answered. Trixie giggled in return, shaking her head.

The two got along great, they spend two hours just talking and getting to know one another. Both of them have never felt so lively around one person, but they also appreciated it. Kinda as if it were meant to be.

By late afternoon, they agreed on leaving. Katya walked Trixie to her car and stopped so they can say goodbye. “Thank you for an amazing afternoon. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve laughed that much with one person during the timespan of like two hours.” Trixie said and kissed Katya’s cheek sweetly.

Katya smiled happily as she looked at Trixie. “Like you said, my move is next.” Katya said and pulled out a small box, handing it to Trixie with a smile. “Open it.”

Trixie looked at Katya with a raised eyebrow, “I’m not marrying you, Katya.” She said jokingly and opened the box, seeing a rose gold necklace with a heart charm. It suited Trixie perfectly. “Awww, you’re so sweet! Thank you!” She said and immediately hugged Katya.

Katya hugged her back and pulled away to look at Trixie, “There’s a paper on the lid of the box, you should read what it says.” She suggested and tried to hide her smile.

Trixie looked at the box again and removed the lid so she could be able to read whatever was on the top of the box.

'trixie mattel, my sweet princess. will you please be my girlfriend?’

Trixie’s heart literally melted as she read the paper. “You’re so cheesy, get better ideas.” She said with a loving giggle, kissing Katya quickly. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.” She said with a smile.

Katya smiled happily, wrapping her arms around Trixie’s waist and got close to her face, but not close enough to let their lips touch. “Looks like I made the winning move. Checkmate.” Katya said before bringing Trixie in for another kiss.

#back in black #fueledbymemes #trixya #fluff #Drama #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #adore delano #kim chi #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au #high school au

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fab-wolf-in-disguise · 6 years

Note

8 , 12 , 14 !

8. when did you find out your sexuality?

It was a Journey. The short answer is “the second that I accepted my crush on my friend Haley”, but the long answer is more like: I assumed that I was attracted to guys (I had a “crush” based on “well he’s a guy and I can stand being around him so I like him, right?”) but I never really assumed that I was straight. I never thought I was bi, and I realized that I wasn’t attracted to guys before realizing that I was attracted to girls so I just kinda went “whelp guess that means I’m not attracted to anyone” and then spent like two full years being like “well if I’ve ever had a crush on anybody, it would be Haley. Except I TOTALLY don’t like Haley. Nope. Totally.” Honestly I can’t really say when I realized that I was a lesbian, just that it happened somewhere between Hayley Kiyoko releasing the EP Citrine and talking to @pianowired. I think talking to Salem kinda helped me reconcile “my feelings about gender are complicated” and “I like girls” in a way, but I also feel like there was a part of me that always knew. I look back at myself being obsessed with various women and f/f ships and gay music and I’m convinced that if I hadn’t been so worried about my friend’s reaction to me having a crush on her I would’ve been gayly gaying for like 2+ years longer.

12. who’s the best gay icon in your opinion?

I am Uneducated despite the 30+ books on my gay shelf in my personal library. Uhhhhhhh I recently gave Chris Hemsworth a pass on me talking about “hmmm nope baby Ann had poor taste” when reviewing a list of celebrities that my friend had crushes on in 8th grade on the grounds that Thor is a lesbian icon. I’m not gonna pick favorites because tbh I could be more immersed in pop culture but Lady Gaga seems pretty great so I’ll go with her.

14. are you openly out?

Ah, another question that I feel like should be less complicated. So I’m 900% out to my sister, I came out to my mom and I’m pretty sure that she has outed me to her whole family but I haven’t seen them since, I’m not like ~technically~ out to my dad but I wear double venus stuff around the house and we’ve talked while I was sitting under my #20GAYTEEN pride flag and he saw me pick up all the LGBT pamphlets at a college visit that we went on together so like if he hasn’t guessed does he really deserve to know? I’m not officially out to my stepfamily but my stepbrother Ben was like “Oh are these all gay books? Oh cool” about my gay shelf and follows my Instagram where I posted about Columbus Pride so I feel like he probably has a guess. I wear flannels and all of my gay shirts in public while trying to project a Gay Vibe, so I think that counts as being openly out? People at school have commented on my double venus necklace and “Unqualified Lesbian” shirt and I’ve mentioned going to Pride so like,,, I’m as out as I can be without individually telling each person and changing my schedule enough to make it to Pride club. So I think the answer is yes?

#rach #asks

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justanoutlawfic · 6 years

Note

If they had a kid meme.... Detective Red Snowing please 😉😘😘

YAY! YAY! YAY! Let me tell you all about the babies of our ship. I plan on writing a fic with different one shots showing all of them over the years.

Name: Alice Opal Charming (25)

Gender: Female

Generalappearance: Blonde curls for days and blue eyes. She dresses in leggings, skirts, tanks and red flannel. Her favorite pair of shoes are her boots and you’ll have to pry them off her bare feet. Another thing she is extremely protective of is her silver star fish necklace that Rogers gave her for her 10th birthday.

Personality: Two separate puzzles in one box. When she’s on a good high, she’s silly, charming and fun loving. At times, she can be a bit naive. When she forgets to take her pills or is a manic state, she talks even more and makes less sense. She gets very sad and self-destructs. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at 13.

Specialtalents: She could probably outrun anyone that came down her path. She won gold at a lot of track meets in high school, got a scholarship for college too.

Whothey like better: She’s extremely close with Rogers, they have this bond that no one could ever break. She’s close with all her parents though. Snow seems to understand her just as well as her papa.

Whothey resemble more: She has Rogers’ eyes and crooked grin. That’s about it.

Personalhead canon: She’s the only one of the kids who is actually not a biological child of Ruby or Snow. Shortly before Rogers formed his poly relationship with his bandmates, he had a one night stand. He didn’t hear from the woman after that. A year later, just when he, Ruby, Snow and David were about to get married, Eloise dropped off the baby on their doorstep and hasn’t been seen since. Rogers thought they’d kick him to the curb, but they all took t her right away. They named her after Rogers’ mother and Ruby’s grandmother.

When she was a little girl, she asked her parents why the princesses in all the stories and movies always ended up with boys. Couldn’t they end up with girls too? They created their own stories for her. It was no surprise that she came out at 15 nor when she started dating Robin Jr., daughter of their family friends. She didn’t go to college, despite the scholarship, and instead writes books so little girls like her will have literature with two princesses.

Face claim: Rose Reynolds

Name: Emma Ruth Charming (22)

Gender: Female

Generalappearance: Blonde hair, green eyes. She dresses almost identically to Alice, except she’s not a fan of skirts and loves leather jackets & beanies. She has a swan keychain necklace given to her by her high school boyfriend, who sadly died in a car accident when they were 18.

Personality: Sarcastic, sarcastic and did I mention sarcastic? She and Alice were always thick as thieves, getting into trouble growing up. She really does want to help people, but sometimes her attitude says otherwise. Once you get to know her, she really is kind and loving.

Specialtalents: She can pick a lock in under 60 seconds and is a talented break-in artist.

Whothey like better: She’s really close with David, they share the same personality and sense of humor. Really, she’s close with all her parents though. David, like Rogers with Alice, just tends to get her the best.

Whothey resemble more: She’s a good mix of David and Snow. Outside his tact, she has his hair and smile. She has Snow’s eyes, chin and general urge to put herself in danger.

Personalhead canon: Like Tilly, she often found it odd that there were no gay princesses in literature. She came out as bisexual when she was 12. Some people outside the family thought that was too young but Ruby said she was the same age.

She went to college after her boyfriend died to take her mind off things. She doesn’t use her degree, though, at least not in the same way that her parents would’ve expected. She’s a bail bondsperson and enjoys tracking people down. Recently, she began dating a pretty woman named Elsa. It’s the first time she’s felt ready to move on since Bae died.

Face claim: Britt Robertson

Name: Neal Robert Charming (19)

Gender: Male

Generalappearance: Dark hair and blue eyes. He dresses nicely, a lot of polos and khakis. A suit is not complete without a tie in his opinion. The only one of his siblings to not mind the uniforms at their high school.

Personality: A studious and serious kid. He can crack a joke, but he’s pretty quiet and Ruby jokes he’s probably the kid they could lose for a couple of days and no one would notice. No one gets how a kid from a family of 10 can be this quiet, but he doesn’t even know.

Specialtalents: Gifted with school, which can be a curse. He puts a lot of pressure on himself to do well, even though his parents just want all their kids to try their best.

Whothey like better: He doesn’t really have a favorite. Snow is studious, so they talk about books and stuff. But he also spends a lot of time on Rogers’ boat.

Whothey resemble more: He looks like a mini-Snow. Rogers says that he used to be a quiet kid, which shocks everyone because he’s not now…at all.

Personalhead canon: He got into Yale University and it’s the first time any of the kids has ever gone far for college. (Emma went to Colby, which was just 90 minutes away.) He misses his family but really enjoys it there. He plans on getting a degree in journalism, minoring in political science,

Face claim: Logan Lerman

Name: Charlotte Eva “Charlie” Charming (17)

Gender: Female

Generalappearance: Dark curls and hazel eyes. Tends to dress “woodland”, lots of long sleeved shirts and camo. She’s constantly stealing Emma’s boots. Yet, if she has to dress up, unlike her sisters, she doesn’t mind. She has a wolf necklace that Ruby gave her when she was 13 and it’s her most prized possession.

Personality:She is queen of sarcasm, she can give Emma a run for her money. She is very charming, but can also play bad cop. You never know what to expect from her.

Specialtalents: Snow taught her archery at a young age, she was the only one of the kids with the patience to learn it. She also knows how to sail, like most of her siblings, since Rogers taught her.

Whothey like better:Like her siblings, she doesn’t have a “favorite”. However, Ruby always seems to be one step ahead of her, which annoys her to no end, so she ends up ranting to Snow a lot. They have lots of discussions over warm tea with honey. She goes to David and Rogers when she needs cheering up because they always know what to do to make her smile.

Whothey resemble more: She looks a lot like Ruby and Rogers, with Ruby and Snow’s personalities.

Personalhead canon: Like her older siblings, she’s a member of the LGBTQ community. Her parents always knew she was a lesbian like Alice, but she also ended up coming out as asexual this year. She was afraid her parents wouldn’t accept it or think it was real, but they backed her up and said of course it is. She has a girlfriend, who is also ace.

Face claim: Crystal Reed

Name: Nora June and Virginia “Ginny” Lark Charming (14)

Gender: Females

Generalappearance: Light brown hair and hazel eyes. Both wear a lot of street clothes. When Alice moved in with Robin, she let them raid her closet for clothes she didn’t wear anymore and they’re good with that. Snow never really got her girly girl to shop with and she’s okay with that. She’s grateful for the dances Charlie lets her take her to.

Personality: Nora is more wise cracking one, always getting into some kind of trouble. Ginny normally goes along for the ride, but is the more sympathetic one. She’s the one you’d go to if you need something or if you wanted Nora to do something.

Specialtalents: Nora is a talented dancer and started taking lessons when she was little. Ginny is an artist, can paint for hours and be content with it. She always has her sketchbook with her.

Whothey like better: Nora is really close with Ruby. Ginny has a special bond with Snow.

Whothey resemble more: They look a lot like David, though they have some aspects of Ruby in there. Both definitely are a mix of David and Snow, despite her not being their biological mom.

Personalhead canon: Both are also gay. Someone once asks their family, “Is anyone in your house straight?” “The dog…probably…but we can’t even ask him that.”

(Also, unrelated to fic but they’re named and modeled after these adorable twins I watch, with the same names.)

Face claim: Alyson Stoner

#this took way too long XD #detective red snowing #and they're all gay #i don't even care #loboselinaistrash #asked and answered

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ramshacklefey · 6 years

Text

Augusta

“We don’t really have a lot of use for heroes in a town like Augusta. No alien attacks or extra-dimensional portals. We’ve never even had a demon-summoning cult, just the Hutterites, and they’re good people. There’s not much here if you don’t count the time the Wallace cousins set Mary White’s barn on fire. But that family’s just a bad bunch.

“Anyway the heroes are all city-people. Captain America might’ve grown up in Queens, but he doesn’t know shit about bucking hay-bales in mid-August, and he probably can’t drive a combine as good as me. I’d love to see Tony Stark out here sweating and cursing like my dad when a tractor breaks down, getting one of his fancy suits dirty for once.

“Course, to hear Pastor Mike talk, you’d think all the heroes were Satanists or something. You should’ve heard him last summer after the Avengers went to that gay pride parade in New York, when Captain America had the rainbow shield.

“I guess in some way, I was lucky I grew up in Augusta. Mother named me Jolene, like the song, and I’d probably have hated it just for that. I heard that song way too many times.

“The whole town is just the one street where the bar and general store are. And the old dinner club, but that’s been closed since Rita passed. She was such a wonderful person. But in a place that small, everybody thought it was cute when I was ten and cut all my hair off and refused to wear anything but boys’ flannels. We don’t really have lesbians in Augusta, so nobody thought it was weird.

“I was just one of the tomboys. There’s always a couple of us, running around with the boys, learning to shoot and smoke and play football. But it was never enough, you know? Especially when I was in ninth grade and suddenly the boys shot up and started getting muscles and beards. I mean, I started filling out too, but not really in the right places.

“I went to homecoming that year with Tommy Sykes, who was a senior and really cute. After the dance we had sex in his truck, and he said he wanted me to be his girl, and I guess it was nice, and I even think I wanted it? But it felt awful, even though he was gentle. It didn’t hurt or anything, it just felt awful.

“Me and Tommy dated my whole time in high school, while he was working nights at the plant. We kept having sex, and I found out there was stuff I liked doing, so we did that stuff mostly.

“Dating Tommy let me keep hanging out with the boys, which most of the tomboys grew out of around then. But they couldn’t spit tobacco juice farther than anyone else. So.

“Senior year came, and Grace McKinnon shaved off half her hair in September and said she was a lesbian. Two weeks later, her folks packed her off to this retreat out in the mountains past where the Hutterites live. We all kinda knew what was going to happen there, but none of us kids really knew how to talk about it. Lizzy Blaine got really quiet after that, and a few weeks later she disappeared. They found her body on the rez a month later.

“And then I found this blog. It was about a… a guy. But he’d been a girl at first… or everyone though he was, because he was born looking like one. I’d never heard the word transgender before, except sometimes on the news. But he was talking about how he figured out he was a boy and it was like somebody was talking about me… so I looked some more, and the more I looked, the more I knew I was a boy. And then… well… when I was with Tommy, I started thinking about what it’d be like to do all the things we did, but kinda the other way around, if you know what I- right, sorry.

“Anyway, it was round about Thanksgiving when I realized that if I was a boy, that meant I was also gay. And Tommy’s a great guy, but he’s not gay. I started feeling guiltier and guiltier every time we had sex.

“On Christmas Eve, Tommy asked me to marry him. And I - it was at my folks’ place and everyone was there - and I just started bawling and blurted everything out. How I couldn’t marry him because I’m a boy and probably a lot of other stuff that my folks never wanted to hear.

“It’s been two months since that. Tommy said he still loves me, but everybody told me I was sick, needed a doctor and the pastor. I went to see both of them, but nothing helped. I prayed and fasted, I tried psychology… but it didn’t change me. I know what I am.

“Yesterday Mom came back from church with this flyer from Pastor Mike. For the retreat where they sent Grace. She said they’d help me there. But Grace never came back. And I’m only 17, won’t be 18 til July. I told Mom what those places really are, but she said… she said that’s better than hellfire...”

Joey stopped talking at last, staring blankly at the woodstove while tears dripped off his chin into the cup of coffee he still clutched.

Outside the windows of the bunkhouse, snow was hurling itself sideways, and the wind whistled mournfully in the chimney. The other man stared out the window for a long time before he said, “So you ran away to die in a Montana blizzard.”

Joey laughed weakly and wiped his face on the corner of the wool blanket draped around his shoulders. “I wasn’t planning on the blizzard,” he admitted, “You saw how well I was packed. I was gonna hitch to Missoula and then buy a Greyhound ticket to somewhere. Maybe Seattle or San Francisco.”

Another silence. Joey studied the man who had hauled him out of a snowbank less than an hour ago. He was thick-chested and thick-armed, with an old cowboy’s bow-legged gait. His black hair was swept back into an old-fashioned greasy style that made points above his ears, and he sported heavy sideburns.

He was also short as hell, Joey thought. If he were standing, the man would’ve barely come up to his chin, and Joey himself was only five-foot-seven.

“It’s a good thing I found you then,” the man said at last, “I can probably save you the bus ticket, if you wanna come with me a piece.”

“Where’re you going?” Joey asked warily.

“East,” said the man, “upstate New York eventually, but I got a couple stops more on the way. Not where you were planning on, but it’s a free ride.”

“Why do you wanna help me?”

The man shrugged.

“You need help,” he said, “I got an empty seat in the truck. I don’t much like kids, or company, but I can make sure you get someplace safer than an alley in ‘Frisco.”

“Where’s that?”

“School,” he said, “For kids who’re different. I work for them. Sorta. You’re not the kind of different they specialize in, but the principal’s an old friend. He’ll take you, once we explain. And they might even be able to help. Really help, not whatever the dumbasses here were trying to do.”

Joey snorted and said, “I’m not a great student. And a private school like that’s gonna be pretty spendy.”

“Just come see it,” said the man, “If it doesn’t work for you, I’ll take you anywhere else you want. But come look.”

Joey rolled his eyes, but really… it wasn’t like he had a better plan.

“Fine,” he said, “but really, why do you care so much, mister… what’s your name, anyway?”

“Name’s Logan,” he growled, “And I care because you and me, we got a lot more in common than you realize.”

#stories #fanfiction #marvel #logan #transgender #ftm #this keeps happening #logan just shows up at the school with trans kids #and xaviers like..... why are you like this #but he wont say no

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adrift-in-writing · 7 years

Text

Français Between Us - Chapter 7

In which Lena is actually brave for once, despite initial thoughts.

____________________________

That Sunday thing didn’t seem to happen, nor would Monday be picked up as a possible day for them to meet. Or, really, any day afterwards. Though, what could’ve been expected? Amélie had a life, and so did Lena. Plans change, but that never meant they couldn’t do it some other time.

It was on the night of the beginning of Fall Break that Lena had completed all of her assignments given to her, and had been laying in her bed with the lights off, and she knew that her little act of being a useless gay wouldn’t be all that beneficial down the long run. She was restless, constantly thinking back on kissing her professor on the lips and on the cheek earlier.

She tossed and turned, hoping to fall asleep and to meet Amélie after they had discussed this in their private chats. This time, however, she’d come in prepared to meet the Amélie she was familiar with. None of that left-field shit she had encountered at the café, but if it were her, she’d still be prepared nonetheless. Lena wanted to know more about her professor, and in return she had already offered to her professor her fair share of her own past.

This was exciting, but also...embarrassing. It was embarrassing in a way that Lena couldn’t stop blushing at the thought, but she really didn’t wanna fuck this up either. It’d been weeks, and she had gotten a bit better at trying to kiss another person. It wouldn’t mean jack shit if she had nobody to kiss, however.

Occasionally, she’d check on her phone just to make sure Amélie didn’t send a surprise message to her to make sure she was sleeping. Truthfully, Miss Lacroix already went to sleep 2 hours ago, and Lena was just laying in bed, feeling a bit bugged that the night was going too damn slow.

This was best not thought out late at night, after all. Tomorrow was still a Monday. With that in mind, Lena eventually drifted off to sleep, now hoping (at least) for a good Monday to start off her week.

Despite getting about 6 or 7 hours in for sleep, Lena was still quite energetic and ready for today. She got dressed and prepared herself to get out and go to their meeting place, just before going to Amélie’s apartment.

She skipped breakfast, mainly because she didn’t feel all that hungry now, and because she was just too damn excited to fill up on anything.

The Brit made it out of her own dormitory, bumping into some other kids who were just getting up to do their own thing for the morning. Upon exiting out, she had taken notice that the skies were fairly cloudy, as if rain was imminent within the hour. Hopefully, this wouldn’t have made much change in plans for today. Since their meeting point was an on-campus park not too far away, she hoped she wasn’t too early.

When Lena made it to the spot, she was pleasantly surprised to see Amélie already up. It was insane to think that anybody would really have to be here that early in the morning, but...it just happened.

Funnily enough, Professor Lacroix was dressed in a way that many people would’ve thought she was teaching class still, and not as a regular student of the university itself. Her attention for the most part was focused primarily on the book, but she did notice Lena eventually coming up, and smiled.

“Good morning. It’s rather cloudy today, don’t you think?”

The student nodded, and took a seat down next to Amélie. “Hope it doesn’t rain.”

“Well, I suppose if it does, we’ll relocate somewhere more cozy. Now,” Amélie put the book away in her purse and crossed her legs. Her signature warm smile came up. “How about we start off your side of the story, like we promised a few weeks ago? How are you liking Paris?”

“Better than I imagined it, that’s for sure!” Lena replied back, smiling just the same. “It’s a lot better with you here, too…” She mumbled on that last part, and of course Amélie caught it, but never really asked what her student really said.

“And what about Hana?”

Lena raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to peek at her phone. The past couple of days, she didn’t even touch her text messages out of the sheer anxiety she might’ve gotten yelled at for trying to defend Miss Lacroix’s actions at the café. Suffice to say, at least 400 new messages popped up that Lena wasn’t willing to scroll through.

Her professor tilted her head, peering over to see if there was any hint or indication that Hana was alright. Lena in return showed her the endless texts by scrolling up.

“Not looking through that, but I think she’s okay.”

A chuckle was heard, then Professor Lacroix uncrossed her legs. “Good. I had a minor worry I might’ve broken her heart.”

“You’re worried? Last I checked she was having an existential crisis after you sent that!”

Amélie just chuckled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Come on. She had it coming.”

“I still can’t believe her best insult to you was ‘dry baguette’. A soggy baguette would’ve made more sense.”

A few droplets of rain touched both of the girls’ scalps, but Amélie was the first to react to it by looking up. Her glasses got wet from an extra drop touching down on its surface, causing the professor to flinch and close her eyes.

“Okay...it is actually going to rain, then. Perhaps we could retreat to my house?”

Her...her place? Could it be?!

Lena nervously swallowed, and had only a nod to indicate her feelings in that very moment.

I’m gonna fucking die if I think this is where I think it’s going.

Correction: I’m already dead. I just never caught up. Way to go, Lena.

“Well, no time to waste. Let’s go.” Amélie began to stand up, taking her purse with her. She walked towards her own place, as Lena took a moment to calm herself down for this. While she was in tow, she placed her hoodie on top of her head in the event it’d rain before they arrived. Being a bit foolish, unfortunately, Amélie brought nothing.

Today was the day to be brave, and for once to not break into a gay puddle all over again. Lena would have to try, at the very least.

Given that Amélie’s place was farther away in the more private areas of campus, the rain had already come by the time they had reached it. Thus, the two of them inevitably got soaked, with Amélie immediately regretting not getting an umbrella despite previous warnings that a storm would come. With a ring and about six different keys on the keyring, Miss Lacroix shuffled around them searching for the right one, and then opened up the door, rushing inside to avoid getting soaked entirely.

Amélie quickly ran to the nearest bathroom, almost ignoring the fact she was gonna get the floor unnecessarily wet as well. Though it wasn’t noticeable at first, the professor was wearing a bit of make-up that had the misfortune of washing away in the rain. Whatever was left had smeared her face, leaving visible black trails running down from her eyes.

Lena in the meanwhile found a comfortable chair to sit in whilst waiting for her professor to get back over here. While she was waiting, she had managed to take a look around The apartment was rather homely, with a contemporary mixture of assorted furniture ranging from blues, purples, and blacks, with the occasional interesting color choice of white and red.

The sounds of water, both from the nearby bathroom and the gentle pitter-patter of the rain tapping on the roof was the only thing heard. The storm had intensified within seconds of them getting inside the house, with simple pitter-patters from earlier turning into loud - yet delicate - drops on the roof.

Minutes would pass until Amélie finally emerged out of the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief while drying her face off with a towel. She was more than ready to get changed into something a lot more comfortable.

“Nice place ya got.” Lena shifted around in her little comfortable chair, softly smiling. “Everythin’ alright?”

There was a nod, and Amélie sniffled, throwing her towel into her washing machine in another room. “I’m good. I think I’ll go change, though. If you’re hungry, food’s in the fridge.”

“Is Miss Guillard going to come downstairs, then?”

Amélie began ascending up to the stairs, though her voice was shouting towards her student. “If that’s how you see it, sure!”

Things went silent again, though Lena was feeling a bit peckish. Having absolutely nothing for breakfast turned out to be a bad idea for her. Though...if she was here for the reason Professor Lacroix stated in the café, she’d probably have a bit of a hard time downing food without feeling butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

That thought made her blush and softly bite on her index finger. She’d be a fool if she claimed this wasn’t something she wanted for the past few weeks. Once again, Lena squeaked and felt hot and bothered by it all. Only this time however, most of that useless lesbianing from previous meetings was, more or less, gonna assist her rather than be detrimental to her.

Now’s a good time to review that guide again, Oxton! Her mind had said to her. Impress your professor! She wants you to be as gay as possible!

A brilliant idea, if Lena ever thought about it. She just wanted to make sure her professor loved her in both the academic and romantic type of way.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs, as Amélie was now dressed in what looked like sleepwear. She had a baggy pair of blue-flannel pants and a grey t-shirt on. And, like their first café date, her hair was down.

“So,” Her professor began, now swinging around to take a seat on the big couch, “we’re gonna be here a while.” With two claps from her hands, the lights in the main living room came on, and dimmed to a more reasonable level. “Rain’s not stopping.”

Essentially, the rain had just trapped them together. Perfect.

Or, not really. Lena was still nervous as fuck this was happening, but...it was happening.

Amélie beckoned Lena to join her on the couch, rather than be separated individually. She had scooted over some, creating some space between them, and patted one of the seats. “Don’t be mean. C’mere!”

Nervously, Lena went to the couch as she was told to do, feeling more relaxed compared to every other previous meeting. She licked her lips a little, then bit her lower lip. “Okay.”

This had pleased Amélie, as she smiled and got comfortable on the couch. “Okay...did you join the Erasmus Programme?”

“Sure did! Think I got lucky, too, getting a whole year here in comparison to two or three months for most places.”

“I think I’ve heard that happen once or twice.”

All that really meant was more time between the two of them, and Amélie knew that. She leaned her head in towards Lena and puckered up her lips. “Just means more time to be gay for me, isn’t it? ” Her tone was teasing, and even Lena couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Y-yeah, sure! Definitely! Lotsa time for me!”

And that was the Lena that Amélie loved teasing. She enjoyed making her babble, since it was the cutest thing she’d see in her day.

Then, they both stayed silent as the rain continued on. Amélie proceeded to lay herself down, sighing. “I really hope my parents don’t find me here.”

“With me?”

Amélie gazed over towards Lena, extending out a hand for her to join her in laying down. Feeling that her hoodie still might be wet, Lena had taken it off. When she went down and got comfortable, she felt a warm presence wrap around her neck.

“No. Well, yes, but...after I left they told me if they ever found out about me in the future, it’s likely they’ll disown me.”

The student didn’t know how to respond to that. She just nodded, and nervously swallowed. She did, however, lean in and give a quick peck on the cheek to her professor.

“You’ll always have me, y’know.”

Amélie softly grinned, turning her head towards Lena. “And what would your parents say if they found out about me?”

Lena grinned as well, her eyes avoiding any contact with her professor’s. “W-well...if they ever found out I love my professor…”

“I’m a grad student, too. Remember that.”

Her student blinked a few times, slightly confused. After some searching, only now did she remember that the person before her was still only26 years old. True enough, Miss Lacroix did reveal she was still a student on this campus despite her initial outward appearance. There, she just nodded.

“Right, but...still! I wouldn’t know. They’d freak out, probably.”

“Or, they accept it because it’s your choice.”

True enough, Lena’s parents did support her on a lot of ideas, especially those made by herself. Maybe Amélie would be right.

She didn’t have time to think about it, since the next few moments became a bit of a blur. Amélie had rolled over so she was now facing Lena on her right. “You said something about being a better kisser than you were weeks ago.”

“I might’ve.”

Smugly, Amélie rose up out of the couch and sat back, holding onto Lena, who in turn rose up and...ended up straddling her professor. “Give it here.”

With anticipation, Lena gradually leaned in, taking a few deep breaths. Subconsciously, her hands moved by themselves towards locking onto the nape of Amélie’s neck.

She wants it. Do it.

Her mind was racing, and her toes curled up, before she delivered a lasting kiss, deep and enamoring. It felt so good to press her lips against somebody she loved and cared for, and even more so when they thought the same about her.

Then she pulled back, and that look of swooning emerged from Lena’s expressions. Her eyes were half-lidded, and a little smile encapsulated her feeling of bliss.

Much to Lena’s surprise, Amélie smirked, and tilted her head to the side after. “Not bad for your second time. But,” Her smirk turned into a little grin. “I could teach you to be better, like I promised.”

“And after...could we do something else? Watch a movie, get some stuff to eat?”

Innocent as always, but just the way Amélie loved it. She nodded, and let Lena have more breathing room. In return, her student just smiled on, and they just kept...kissing.

After all, with all the rain outside, where else could they go?

#Widowtracer #Widowtracer fanfic #Overwatch #Overwatch fanfic #Tracemaker #Lena Oxton #Amelie Lacroix #Amelie Guillard #Tracer #Widowmaker #Character: Widowmaker #Character: Tracer

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deancasheadcanons · 7 years

Text

Trust Your Heart

[ao3]

Part 3 of the Never Trust a Skinny Baker ‘Verse [part 1] [part 2]

“We could go to Hawaii. I’ve never been to Hawaii.”

“None of the people in your life can afford that, Dean,” Kevin says without looking up from the blender.

“Well, technically he only needs a couple of witnesses,” Alex chimes in. “Sam and Eileen could definitely afford it.”

Dean idly crosses “Hawaii” off the napkin-based list in front of him. He always thought he’d be content enough to go down to the courthouse and sign some papers, but it turns out he actually does want to get married in front of friends and family. Even if the thought of it makes his insides turn to goo.

“Why don’t you just go to the courthouse? You know Cas doesn’t care,” Krissy shouts from the kitchen.

Dean looks over his shoulder warily and tries to think if there are any other instances of Krissy reading his mind. He’s suspicious of her for a lot of reasons, so he can go ahead and add that one to the list. “What are you talking about? Cas cares deeply about this.”

“Why don’t we take it to the tip jar gods?” Alex suggests. She squats down and opens the cabinets under the register. She comes back up with an armful of mason jars.

“No. Absolutely not,” Dean chastises as he pushes the top of her head to make her go back down to the cabinets. “I’m not letting anymore decisions about my personal life be controlled by the yahoos who come into this shop.”

A little old lady gives Dean a mean glare as she walks up to the counter.

“What can I do for you today, ma’am?” Dean asks with a smug grin.

“Did you just call me a ‘yahoo,’ young man?”

Alex ducks her head and snorts a laugh.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you a free coffee if you promise not to mention it to my manager,” Dean replies with a wink.

“Well, I would like to speak to the manager,” Charlie says as she walks up to the counter and stands right beside the old woman. “If I don’t get a say in the owner’s wedding plans, then I’m suing.”

“What?” the old lady asks.

“Excuse me, ma’am, I’m already with a customer,” Dean says to Charlie.

“Yes, but! Would you please tell the baker and his deaf fiance that if they don’t have a big, fancy wedding that I’m going to sue them? You know the baker, right? Big Dean—he’s got green eyes, a face that makes even lesbians swoon, and a big, round, doughy bel—”

“Alright, alright. We’ll do tip jars. Fuck you, Charlie.”

The old lady is already halfway out the door.

“So I’m thinking a barn wedding. We can all wear flannel and ride horses,” Charlie says as she hands her credit card to Alex. “Oooh and cowboy hats! Dean, you’d look stellar in a cowboy hat.”

“Hard pass, but thanks for the suggestion.” He grabs a plate and opens the display case to get Charlie’s usual muffin.

“What? Big Dean passing on cowboy hats?” Henriksen interrupts as he also hands his card to Alex. “I thought you had a thing for cowboys.”

The girls burst out laughing, and even Kevin chuckles a bit. Dean glares at Henriksen.

“Can a guy like Old Westerns in peace?”

Sam comes through the kitchen door in the middle of tying an apron around his waist. “Sure, but a guy can’t have an Old Western fetish in peace.”

“It’s a healthy appreciation,” Dean mumbles petulantly.

"So barn wedding!” Charlie shouts. “We’re doing it, guys! We’re doing a barn wedding!” she announces to the whole shop.

Dean rolls his eyes as the customers clap and cheer.

“No, no, no, we gotta do this right,” Alex says as she once again squats down to get the tip jars.

Dean doesn’t stop her this time.

In the middle of the late afternoon rush, they write down each of the employee’s suggestions on their respective jars. Alex texts Claire for her suggestion (courthouse), and Kevin mulls things over for an hour before finally settling on “bakery.”

“Bakery? You want them to get married in a bakery,” Krissy says in a judgmental tone.

“This bakery. Dean basically lives here anyway,” Kevin justifies.

“Hm,” Dean says.

“Oh my god, you like that idea,” Alex accuses with a pointed finger at Dean.

Dean just shrugs. “Best one I’ve heard so far.”

“Um, hello? Barn!” Charlie shouts once again from her table in the corner.

“Butt out!” Dean yells back, but it’s too late. People are cheering again. “No peace in my own goddamn shop,” he mutters.

The door dings, and Dean glances up at it instinctively and spots Cas. Warmth fills his chest against his will as he watches Cas smile and sign to somebody next to him. It takes Dean a solid 10 seconds to notice who he’s talking to.

“Cassie?” Dean blurts out eloquently as Cas and Cassie make their way up to the counter.

Cassie squints at him, looks him up and down, opens her mouth, closes it. Finally her eyes widen and she exclaims, “Dean!”

“Didn’t recognize me under all this, huh?” He pats his belly self-consciously.

“No! I mean. I’m sorry.” She laughs and hangs her head. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you. I mean, Dean, it’s been…”

“A baker’s dozen years,” he finishes for her.

The rest of the shop has gone suspiciously quiet, but Dean ignores it. Alex is still taking orders, so it’s not like he’s holding the line up.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” he asks with a glance toward Cas.

Cassie turns to Cas as well and then back to Dean. “Oh. Um. This is Cas. Weird coincidence, I know.”

Before Dean can cut Cassie off to tell her he already knows Cas, Cas leans across the counter and kisses Dean squarely on the mouth. Dean winks at him when he pulls away.

“Um,” Cassie says.

“You work for the paper, Cassie?” Dean asks.

“I do,” she says with a nod. She pauses as if considering whether to give Dean information he probably already knows. “I was just talking to Cas about some freelance work he’s doing for us.”

“I didn’t know you know sign language.”

“Oh, um, I don’t. I mean, I took a couple classes in high school.” She huffs a tired laugh and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Actually, can you tell him that he’s signing too fast for me? I’m only getting about half of what he’s saying.”

Dean relays the message, and Cas turns to Cassie with an apologetic, embarrassed expression. After they clear things up a bit about what exactly Cassie missed of their conversation in the past hour, Cas finally asks Dean how he knows Cassie.

“We dated for a couple months when we were in our early 20s,” he signs quickly, hoping that Cassie won’t catch it.

Cas clenches his jaw. “How serious was it?”

“Not really the right time or place to discuss this. We can talk about it later.”

Cassie laughs nervously. “What am I missing?”

Dean flashes her a winning smile. “Nothing, sweetheart. Small world, you and Cas working together.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Um, you’re obviously busy and Cas and I are—”

“Oh! You probably came here to actually order something. Sorry, what can I get you?”

Cassie stares at the display case as she answers, “Actually, um, Cas and I only need to go over a couple more things, so would it be possible if you could…?”

It takes Dean a second to figure out what she’s asking. “You want me to be the translator?”

Cassie smiles shyly at him. “Could you? I mean, you probably don’t have the time and—”

“I got it,” Sam says as he appears right next to Dean. “You go ahead, Dean. Crowd’s dying down anyway.”

Dean gives Sam a mean look, but Sam just grins and pats Dean’s shoulder until he walks away. Sam never met Cassie when she and Dean were dating, but Dean talked about her enough to drive Sam insane. Sue him, Sam was in college and Dean had to find something to talk about on the phone every week.

When the three of them sit down at Cas’ usual table together, Cas doesn’t seem too thrilled about Dean being there. It makes Dean feel nervous, or maybe just annoyed, that Cas apparently can’t deal with the idea of Dean dating people who aren’t him.

It only takes them about 30 minutes to get through Cas and Cassie’s meeting, but none of them make a move to leave when they’re done. Dean, for some reason, looks at Cassie expectantly and she takes the bait.

“I didn’t know you, um...how did you learn sign language, Dean?”

Dean doesn’t bother signing while he talks. Cas is suddenly engrossed in his tablet anyway. “My brother’s wife is deaf. Good thing, too, because I never would’ve landed this one otherwise.” He rubs Cas’ shoulder soothingly. Cas looks up at him, so Dean leans in for a quick kiss.

“So you’re, uh, you know…” Cassie says awkwardly.

“Um, no, I don’t know. What are you not asking me?”

“You know, like, you and Cas, uh…”

Dean bursts out laughing. “Oh shit, I was still in the closet when we dated, wasn’t I?”

“What? You were gay when we da—”

“I’m not gay. I’m bi. I exclusively dated chicks when you and I went out.”

“But you liked guys?”

He shrugs and nods.

She glances between him and Cas. “You’ve changed a lot.”

“I know, I’m a lot more handsome now. Thanks for noticing.” He bats his eyelashes for good measure.

Cas looks up from his tablet and asks Dean if he’s going back to work anytime soon.

“Alright, I see when I’m not welcome anymore.” Dean stands despite Cassie’s protests. “Cassie, feel free to leave Cas to his own devices. He probably won’t notice if you leave. I sometimes think he might be more blind than deaf.”

Cassie gives him a judgmental look, which Dean ignores. As he’s giving her a hug, Charlie’s voice carries across the store.

“Bakery wedding? Bakery wedding is in the lead? Guys, I thought we all decided on a barn wedding!”

Dean lets go of Cassie and glares at Charlie.

“Oh god, I’ll get out of your hair so you can...deal with that customer,” Cassie says.

“What? Oh. That’s just Charlie. She’s, uh, really invested in my personal life.”

Benny randomly comes up to Dean then and slaps him on the shoulder. “I’m rooting for barn wedding, brother. You and Cas set a date yet?”

“What?” Cassie interrupts.

“Um, Benny, will you excuse me?” Dean asks pointedly.

Benny gets the hint and backs away with his hands raised like he’s in trouble. Cas looks up from his tablet and stares between Dean and Cassie.

“Benny’s really invested in my personal life, too. Everyone in this stupid shop is invested in my personal life.”

“You and Cas are getting married?” Cassie asks with an edge to her tone.

Dean scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Trying to, at least.”

“Wow, you’ve really changed a lot.”

“Cassie, I was 22 when you and I—”

“No, I get it. You weren’t ready to settle down.” Her eyes deliberately move down to his gut. “Now you’re all content and living a comfortable life, so I get it. Timing.”

He plants his hands on his hips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you broke up with me.”

“Yeah, because you were dragging your feet.” In a voice more sad than angry, she says, “You told me you never wanted to get married.”

Dean looks at Cas and then back to Cassie, concern lining his features. “That was a long time ago, Cassie. You’re not still upset with me, are you?”

Cas stands and puts a hand on Dean’s lower back.

Cassie deflates a little. “No, I’m not upset. That would be—ridiculous. It was just surprising to see you here, that’s all.” She gets up from the table and looks toward the door. “I’m gonna head out. Um, congratulations. Seriously, I’m happy for you guys. I’m just…” She rolls her eyes. “You know, 35 and single. At some point, you start to wonder if you’re the problem. I’ll see you later, Dean.”

She leaves before Dean can think of something else to say. He watches her go until he feels Cas’ eyes on him.

“What was that about?” Cas asks warily.

“I think she’s kind of upset about us getting married. She broke up with me because I wasn’t serious about our relationship and told her I never wanted to get married.”

“You should apologize to her,” Cas responds.

Dean blinks in shock. “It was a really long time ago. And besides, aren’t you supposed to be jealous?”

“I’ll always feel jealous that there are others out there that have been with you, but there’s nothing I can do about that, is there? But you can do something about Cassie feeling hurt. She obviously never got closure from you, and now you’ve been given the opportunity to provide it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You told her you never wanted to get married, and now here you are, getting married,” Cas signs slowly as if trying to get it through Dean’s thick head.

“People change their minds! I’m not allowed to change my mind?”

“Just apologize to her, Dean.”

Dean starts to protest, but Cas takes a seat and turns his attention back to the tablet. Cas only pulls out the “if I don’t look at you then I can’t listen to you” card when Dean is being particularly unreasonable, so Dean takes the hint and heads back to work.

Maybe they should just get married at the fucking courthouse and not tell anybody at all.

A couple days later, Cas asks Dean to leave work early so they can spend some time together. The request is a little bit weird, especially since they now live together and see each other all the time and sleep in the same bed together every night. But Sam insists that the shop won’t burn down without him, so Dean heads out around 6.

Cas is chopping up vegetables and throwing them into a bowl when Dean arrives, so he doesn’t notice his presence until Dean presses up behind him and boxes him in against the counter.

Cas immediately pushes his butt back to get Dean away from him. He then turns around and signs, “Can you put the burgers on the grill?”

Dean rolls his eyes and gives him a quick kiss. “Yeah, I can make the burgers. I also brought pie home for dessert.”

Cas’ face lights up at that. He then turns back to the vegetables.

It’s become habit for Dean to bring home treats from the shop, even though it’s also become habit for Cas to stop into the shop most days to get something to eat. Cas’ ass has been filling out his jeans a little better lately, and his stomach has rounded out in front of him just a bit. Dean loves it. He loves knowing that his baking put that extra weight there, that the amount that Dean spoils Cas is evidenced in his waistline.

There are a few quiet minutes where everything is on the grill or in the oven cooking, so they stand in the kitchen together to talk.

“I realized that I don’t know a whole lot about your past,” Cas starts.

Dean clears his throat but doesn’t bother to talk as he signs. “I can’t believe you enticed me with burgers and leaving work early so that you could trap me here to talk about myself.”

Cas smiles shyly. “You hate talking about yourself. That’s why I had to trick you.”

“I’m not giving you any pie.”

“That’s fine. Eating less means taking less time to eat, which means more time for talking.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and squints at Cas. He’s going to eat as slowly as possible tonight, and he’s going to use both hands the entire time.

Except the food is so damn good that he doesn’t take his time at all. He inhales it as if he hasn’t had a proper meal in a week because he hasn’t. Working all day every day means a lot of takeout and a lot of missed meals.

After his second burger, Dean leans back in his seat and puts a hand on his full belly. He presses his fingers hard into the taut skin to try to make some room as Cas goes back into the kitchen to cut the pie. There’s a bite of Cas’ burger left on his plate, so Dean leans forward and grabs it. He chews slowly and keeps a hand on his stomach.

Cas comes back with two plates with not just giant slices of pie but vanilla ice cream as well. As he sets Dean’s down in front of him, Dean signs, “This is going to postpone our conversation even more.”

Cas shrugs and digs into his pie.

They don’t move from the table when they’re done. Cas looks across at Dean expectantly but doesn’t raise his hands to sign. He hiccups a couple of times.

“Eat too much?” Dean asks.

“Yes. How did you and Cassie meet?”

Dean blinks and rubs his stomach while he thinks. “I traveled for work back then. She lived a couple hours from here, and I did a job for her mom while she was living with her. I was a one-night-stand kind of guy, but Cassie sort of changed that for a little bit. I really liked her.”

“What were you doing for work? I had no idea you were anything other than a baker your entire life.”

Dean laughs. “Pest control. I did odd jobs for a while until I decided to go to school to become a pastry chef. After my dad died, I was kind of free to do whatever I wanted. He probably rolled over in his grave the day I decided to be a baker.”

“What did he want you to do?”

“Go into the family business. But the family business was a dying hardware store in Lawrence, and I didn’t have the passion to try to revive it.”

“This is the first time you’ve ever mentioned your dad,” Cas signs, a serious set to his brow.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like talking about him.” Dean shrugs and then continues signing. “I wouldn’t be a baker or out of the closet or even fat if he was still alive, so I think we’re all better off without him.”

Cas smiles softly at Dean but then his face falls. “Am I the first man you’ve dated?”

“No? Maybe. I don’t really date people in general. Or at least, I didn’t date people before you. Cassie and Lisa were the only serious relationships I ever had before this.”

“You’ve mentioned Lisa.”

Dean sighs and slaps a hand to his gut once more. Nervous habit, he supposes. “Can we go to the living room? My ass is in need of a couch.”

It takes Cas a second to get to his feet, his hand pressed to his stomach as well. Dean laughs and pinches his love handle as they walk into the living room together.

Once they’re seated, Dean signs, “You’ll end up as big as me if you’re not careful.”

“Maybe if my fiance would stop bringing home pie, I wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

Dean can’t help himself. He pinches Cas’ side again. “It suits you. People would be suspicious if you were dating a baker and didn’t put on weight.”

“We were talking about Lisa,” Cas redirects with a roll of his eyes.

“It was right after Cassie. We were together for six months. I asked her to move in with me, and she said no.”

“Why?”

“Lisa had a kid. He was a baby at the time, and she didn’t want to drag me into fatherhood. She knew it was too much for me, even if I couldn’t recognize it myself.” He laughs affectionately at the memory of that conversation. “She said I was trying to replace Sam. I hadn't seen him in a while, and I felt like he didn’t need me anymore. It took a couple years for me to admit to myself that she was right.”

“She sounds like a smart woman.”

“Yeah, I was lucky. She was way more mature than I was, and I’m glad she knew what I needed better than I knew. Even if it was hard on both of us.”

Dean drops his hands and looks at the coffee table. After a few seconds, Cas scoots closer to him, rubs his shoulders and kisses his temple slowly. Dean closes his eyes and grabs Cas’ arm to ground himself.

When they get back to talking, Cas asks, "Why were you so willing to commit to Lisa after not wanting to commit to Cassie?"

"Ben," Dean responds easily. "I'm much better at committing to familial relationships than..." He pauses his hands and then admits, "Romantic ones."

And Cas, easy as ever, smiles at Dean and runs a hand through his hair, right behind his ear.

It overwhelms Dean, sometimes, that Cas seems to understand and accept him just the way he is with no questions asked. When he expects to be judged and misunderstood, he receives a smile and affection instead. It makes him wonder how Cas is so good at this whole relationship thing.

So he asks him if he’s had any serious relationships.

Cas answers that before Dean, he hadn’t dated anybody in almost a decade.

Dean makes a noise of surprise, which Castiel doesn’t notice. Dean quickly signs that that’s insane and he doesn’t believe it’s possible that someone as handsome as Cas could’ve been on the market for so long.

With a shy smile, Cas replies, “Thank you, Dean, but I didn’t really go out of my way to date. I was focused on my career and my goal of becoming a foster parent. Plus, I’m deaf. I couldn’t just meet someone in a coffee shop.” He raises his eyebrows knowingly at Dean.

Dean grins widely back at him. “How stoked were you when you came into my shop and realized that this devastatingly handsome guy could speak your language?”

Cas ducks his head and blushes.

Dean chucks under his chin to get him to look up and then signs, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Cas kisses the smile off his face.

The kiss deepens, so Dean grabs Cas by the hips and hauls him into his lap. Cas runs his hands up Dean’s belly, pinches a nipple, then wraps both arms around his neck to get closer.

After a moment, Dean pulls back and signs, “I think we should get married in the shop.”

**************************************

“You sure you want to get married in this shop?” Cassie asks skeptically before taking a sip of her coffee.

“Well, the tip jar gods have spoken."

Cassie just looks at him, unamused.

"I don’t really wanna make a big deal out of it.” Dean watches Claire and Alex walk through the front door and head toward the back. They give him a quick wave, and he smiles and nods his head. “A wedding, I mean,” he continues. “Cas and I...we have a, uh, good relationship. But it’s not—it ain’t big and romantic or anything like that. We got together in this shop, so it makes sense that we’d get married in this shop.”

The truth is that if he could use one word to describe his relationship with Cas, he’d call it quiet. Not because Castiel doesn’t talk, but because their love itself is quiet and undramatic. But god, he wouldn’t be caught dead saying that out loud.

“Dean?” Cassie asks.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”

Dean scrubs a hand down his face and laughs. “No, sorry. What’d you say?”

“I was just asking you if Cas minds. If he minds that you’re not...super romantic?”

Cassie sounds so scared of offending Dean that he can’t help but bark out a loud laugh.

“I’m fucking sorry, Cassie."

“What?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t, uh, be with you in the capacity that you wanted. That I couldn’t commit.”

She holds her mug between her hands and rubs her thumbs nervously along the ceramic. “I, um, thought about it a lot after that day I saw you two. And, you know, thank you—for apologizing, thank you. But you’re already forgiven.” She takes a drink. “I saw how you and Castiel are. His love for you is easy, like breathing. I don’t even think he’d notice or care if you didn’t love him the same. God, that sounds bad when I say it like that, but—”

“No, I know what you mean.” Dean ducks his head as he feels a blush creeping up his neck. “It is easy. I never have to, uh, do anything to prove that I love him. Not that I felt that way with you, but…”

“You’ve felt that way in every relationship.”

Dean nods, still embarrassed.

“What are you thinking about?” Cassie asks after too much silence has passed between them.

“I, um—no, it’s nothing.”

“Dean.”

“Well, I just...You’re so good with words and I always loved reading your articles, so I was just wondering if I could, you know, steal some of what you just said for my vows?"

Cassie leans back in her seat and laughs. “Yes, Dean, you big sap.”

“Well, I, uh, should get back to it,” Dean says, pointing toward the counter.

“Hey.”

“Yeah, Cassie?”

“I’m happy for you. You’re not easy to love, so I’m glad you found somebody who thinks you are.”

“You know what, I’m gonna ignore the insult in that and take it as a compliment. Thank you,” he replies as he stands and flips her the bird.

Cassie just laughs and thanks him for the free coffee.

As Dean is making his way back to the kitchen, Sam smiles at him from behind the counter.

“What?” Dean asks, annoyed.

“Nothing. You guys are just cute.”

“My ex and I are cute.”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah. But, like, the way you are with Charlie. You’ve just grown up a lot, is all.”

“Alright, well. Whatever.”

“Hey, don’t forget you have to—”

“Leave early to pick up my tux. I got it, Sammy.” Dean finishes with a thumbs up and then goes into the kitchen.

He’s not nervous about marrying Castiel. They’ve been planning for the last month or so, and Dean hasn’t freaked out even once. Cas actually had a minor meltdown over the fact that he doesn’t have any family members attending and isn’t close enough to any of his friends to ask them to be his best man.

Claire oversaw the conversation and stepped in with a goofy smile, proclaiming, “Best man here!” without signing it.

Dean had laughed while Castiel looked between the two of them, annoyed. When Claire signed for him that she’d happily give him away, Cas’ entire demeanor had relaxed before he wrapped her in a tight hug.

They had one fight. Dean had assumed they didn’t need to even hold a conversation about the cake—Cas was marrying a fucking baker, after all. But then Castiel brought it up one night while they were lazily making out in bed, and Dean had laughed and asked him if he was joking.

“Why would I be joking? It’s important we have a cake at our wedding, we should discuss who’s going to make it. It takes weeks to—”

Dean had gently pressed the tips of his fingers to Cas’ wrist to get him to stop talking. He then signed, “You don’t want me to make the cake?”

“Why would you make the cake when you’re the one getting married? I don’t want you to have to deal with that responsibility on the day of our wedding.”

“I wouldn’t make it on the day of our wedding, silly. Trust me, I’d feel a lot better making it myself than trusting some other company to do it.”

“I just don’t want to put that stress on you.”

“Are you telling me you don’t like my cakes, Cas?”

Cas had slept on the couch that night, even though they were in his house. Claire had gotten a good laugh about it in the morning.

And the next day, Cas had apologized and told Dean that of course he should make the cake.

Some things with Cas are easy, like deciding that there would be absolutely no flowers at their wedding, and some things are hard, like Cas getting mad at Dean for trying to lose weight to look better in his tux.

(He hasn't lost any weight, and he'll find out today how he looks in his tux.)

As Dean is rolling dough to make croissants, he hears the back door open and then Cas’ hand curls its way around his shoulder. Dean turns his head and smiles at him before pressing their lips together softly. He then turns his attention back to the dough.

Cas’ hand slides down to Dean’s hip, his thumb pressing hard circles against his apron as he stands next to Dean and watches him work.

It takes Dean about five more minutes to get everything into the oven, and by that time Castiel is standing behind him with his arms locked onto his hips and his lips pressing insistently to his neck.

A spatula and some pot holders fall to the floor as Dean lets go of his last bit of self-control and turns around in Cas’ arms, yanking him closer and sealing their mouths together in a slow kiss. Castiel immediately pushes his tongue between Dean’s lips, so Dean grabs his ass and pushes their groins together.

Cas is hard, which is rare, so Dean takes advantage of it and rubs the palm of his hand over the front of his jeans. Cas gasps and tilts his head back, and Dean nips at his neck.

They still don’t really have an active sex life, but every once in a while Cas magically gets in the mood and pushes into Dean all gentle and slow and then moans way louder than necessary right into his ear.

The first time it happened, Dean was so relieved that he actually shed honest to god tears afterward. Cas, of course, panicked and sloppily signed if Dean was alright and if he did anything wrong and if he was hurt—

“No, baby, calm down. I was just worried we’d never do that.”

Cas had frowned at him and taken a long time to think before answering. His hand movements were sharp and unsure as he signed. “We've talked about this, Dean. I told you I don't really like sex. Sometimes I might be in the mood and then it's possible for me to enjoy it, but for the most part I just don't think about it or prefer it. But I’m sorry I rarely ever want to have sex. We can have sex regularly if you’d like. We can schedule it. That way I’ll be prepared for it and I’ll get used to it.”

Dean had laughed and covered his face with his hand. He then signed, “It’s OK. I was just really starting to think something was wrong with me, but now I know for sure that you’re just a little weird.”

“Thank you," Cas answered sarcastically. "It's nice to know that the love of my life thinks I'm weird."

"Love of your life? Can we maybe tone it down some?"

Cas shook his head no.

Dean ran his knuckles over Cas' cheek before signing, "I don't think you're weird. Plenty of people don't like sex. I haven't met any of them, but I'm sure they're out there."

Cas rolled his eyes and slapped at Dean's hands as his way of saying "shut up."

With a laugh, Dean had curled up next to him and buried his face in the crook of his neck. He squeezed his growing love handle then moved his hand up to his chest and drew an X over his heart.

Cas had sighed and pulled him closer.

Now, back in the kitchen, Castiel lets out an obscenely loud groan and Dean has to press his hand over his mouth. Dean is shaking with laughter, so he loses his rhythm over Cas’ groin, but it’s too late anyway. The door opens, and Dean jumps away from Cas innocently.

“Dean. Tux,” Sam says from the doorway, one hand covering his eyes.

“Right. Yeah.” He clears his throat awkwardly and takes Cas’ hand. “We’re going.”

Cas is laughing by the time they get out back to Dean’s car. Dean frowns at him before shoving him against the driver’s side and kissing his neck. Cas is still laughing as he wraps his arms around Dean’s back and slides them down to his ass.

After a minute or two, Dean pulls away so he can say, “It went well with Cassie today.”

Castiel smiles his soft, barely there smile and replies, “Do you feel better?”

“I do, yeah. She helped me figure out some things about our relationship, which was surprising."

“Good, I’m glad you’re figuring things out three weeks before you marry me.”

Dean punches him lightly in the shoulder and kisses him again. “I knew I wanted to marry you a long time ago, asshole. That part wasn’t hard to figure out.”

**************************************

At 3:47 p.m. on the day of Dean and Cas’ wedding, Sam bursts into the kitchen of the bakery and says, “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, I know. I can’t tie this stupid bow tie,” Dean says from where he’s standing in front of the sink mirror futzing with his tie.

“No, Dean. A real problem.”

Dean turns in exasperation and gestures for his brother to get on with it.

“Every customer we’ve ever had in this place is at the door.”

Cas bursts through the door then, too, and signs, “We’re going to break fire code if we let all of these people in.”

“They won’t all fit anyway,” Sam replies. “We need to figure something else out.”

Dean scrubs a hand down his face and signs, “Cas, we’re not supposed to see each other.”

Cas makes an annoyed face at him. “As if you care about wedding traditions.”

“Dean!” Sam shouts. He takes a deep breath and signs, “We can’t just turn all these people away, all of them are loyal customers.”

Dean plants his hands on his hips and looks down in thought. “Give me some time to think, Sammy. Take Cas with you.”

“Dean, the ceremony starts in 12—”

“Five minutes!” Dean yells.

After they leave, Dean relaxes and closes his eyes. He then finally ties his bow tie on straight.

Five minutes later, Charlie, Alex and Kevin herd everyone out into the street and direct helpers to move the chairs outside. Because Jody is too busy to do it, Donna calls up some friends at the police force and by 3:58 p.m. the entire street has been shut down with cops manning both ends. The boutique on the other side of the street is the only business open this late on a Saturday, but Dean is friends with the owner, Tessa, so she had already closed her shop for the wedding anyway. Dean’s never felt so grateful for small town life.

At 4:07 p.m., Dean and Cas walk hand-in-hand down the middle of the street while their friends and random customers stand on either side and watch. When they get up to the makeshift alter (a music stand with a Bible on it and a small rug for them to stand on), Jody tells everyone to have a seat and thanks them all for coming even though they obviously didn’t RSVP.

Claire is standing on Cas’ side wearing a long, flowy red dress while Sam is on Dean’s side in a plain black tux just like Dean and Cas'. Eileen is standing next to Jody signing everything she says.

Dean barely hears any of it, and he definitely doesn’t see any of it either. He’s looking at Cas and swinging their hands between them and is just barely stopping himself from bouncing on his feet.

They sign their vows. The crowd seems a little miffed at the lack of translation, especially when Castiel tells Dean that loving him is the easiest thing he’s ever done and the people who understand sign language “aww” like a bunch of saps. Dean knows that actually speaking his vows would've cheapened the moment. He would've been so caught up in feeling embarrassed and vulnerable in front of all these people that it wouldn't have felt like it was about Castiel at all.

After they exchange rings, and right before they kiss, Dean puts a hand on Cas’ chest and then uses his index finger to draw an X right over his heart.

Cas grabs his hand, laces their fingers together and pulls him in for a kiss.

**************************************

"Oh my god, hurry up."

"Claire," Dean chastises. He waits for her to look at him before he continues, "Give him some space."

Claire takes the smallest of steps back and flashes a fake smile at Dean.

"OK! All done," Sam declares as he straightens up and hands the pen to Dean. He doesn't seem to notice that he almost smacked right into Claire when he stood up.

Dean looks at the document and nods at Sam and Eileen's signatures. He then turns toward Cas and signs, "We're officially married. Licensed and everything."

Castiel gives the sign for "OK," then he looks very seriously over at the guest in the room.

"OK, and now the more important one," Billie says as she pulls out a large folder full of papers and sets it directly on top of the marriage license. "You know the drill, I only need one more signature from each of you. Semantics."

Dean hands a pen to Cas and points at the paper where he's supposed to sign. Once they've both signed it, Claire claps her hands together and exclaims, "Fuck yeah."

"Hey, watch your language, young lady," Dean says with a smile. "Don't talk like that in front of your fathers."

"I turn 18 in two days, you can't control me." Claire flips Dean the bird with both hands and moves them up and down in rhythm.

Cas taps Dean's shoulder and then signs, "Why is our daughter flipping you off?"

Dean winks at him. "She's just excited."

"I can't believe we pulled this off," Claire says. "Making sure you guys got married before adopting me. I mean, holy shit, I turn 18 in two days."

Dean puts his arm around Cas and kisses his temple. He then says, "Well, yeah, it's a shotgun wedding."

#ntasb #my fics #chubby dean #chubby cas #aro dean #ace cas #[realizes this fic is guilty of a trope i hate]#[too late to fix it]#[the trope is when a man dates women and it sucks and then he dates a man and it's the best thing ever]#[i did not. mean to do that.]#tf #my aus

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