rainbowfic | Fuzzy Wuzzy #03, Rose Pink #10, Off-white #07

Universe: Beschiverse
Story: Of Rusted Hearts And Greased Palms
Colour: Fuzzy Wuzzy #03. Sleep cute, Rose Pink #10. "You're my heart.", Off-white #07. Roll
Supplies and styles: resin, bichrome (fuzzy wuzzy + rose pink), silhouette, life drawing
Resin:

fandom_empire Fortune Wheel, Week 4 - Team Challenge (Hugs)
Word count: 630
Rating: T
Warnings: mentioned sex

Leigh wasn’t romantic by nature.

Sure, she could be a decent lover. In romantic gesture and, mostly, in bed. (She was proudly a really good fuck.) An average girlfriend, her exes never really complained about her skills as a partner, the issue tended to be wanting different things in life. (Read: somehow she kept attracting women that wanted to be mothers. Probably because she looked like a perfectly fine breadwinner and being good with kids was a job requirement.)

Prett was… a little different from day one. She didn’t ask for much, mostly the basic “respect my boundaries and give me at least two orgasms every time we fuck, even if it’s a lunch break quickie”. Overall, it was easy to follow, it was below Leigh’s bare minimums even when all they were was “Prett’s the cute mechanic that I like to have sex with”.

It was… natural to do little things that Leigh usually didn’t for past partners, even if she was trying to be a cute, nice girlfriend. Sure, knowing Prett’s coffee order and her major interests was something Leigh didn’t have to think about. But things like being extra aware of Prett’s body language to know when she could and couldn’t ask for physical contact. Things like learning the lyrics of Prett’s favourite songs (because Leigh made a playlist and listened to it when they couldn’t meet). Things like not hating her insomniac nights because she could watch Prett looking adorable when she slept.

It wasn’t fair like this woman, who could bench press Leigh if she tried to, looked so cute when asleep. In boyshorts and one of the many car-themed shirts she had, she didn’t quite look like the same person that spent five hours elbow-deep in the same car engine like that was the only thing in the world. The fact that she currently smelled like Leigh’s strawberry body wash only added to the domesticity of the moment.

It had been a good day, Leigh could tell by the way Prett had given her multiple hugs. A quickie one when Leigh showed up at the shop to pick her up (it was mostly an ‘air hug’ so Leigh’s suit was safe from Prett’s sweat and grease-stained overalls). Three different hugs after the shower, one of them even featuring Prett taking her from the office to the living room so they could share the cheap but delicious pizza Prett had ordered for dinner.

Now Prett’s arms were firmly locked around her waist, head laying on her chest, right above her heart. Prett had mumbled how it kept the nightmares at bay, somehow. For someone who generally only seemed to allow touch when sex was involved, Prett certainly had some level of “physical contact as love language” going on. (Leigh wouldn’t investigate that, no, Prett was not a work case.)

Leigh wasn’t a romantic by nature, and she tended to attract women that weren’t too romantic either (even if they seemed to have a baby fever triggered by Leigh rolling around with a “Social Worker” name tag and a Honda Civic). But Prett? Prett was a lot more romantic than she seemed willing to actually say.

Proof? The little poems Prett sketched on pieces of paper that sometimes Leigh managed to take a peek before they were thrown in a box Prett kept under her bed.

I don’t know if I should say: you’re my heart

it has been torn and has been broken apart

way too many times, for way too many lives

and you deserve anything better than me

Leigh wondered if Prett wrote this kind of thing for women before. Not that it matter that much, Prett deserved someone better than Leigh. Or maybe they found a perfectly suitable match on each other.

Fuzzy Wuzzy #03, Rose Pink #10, Off-white #07

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