So joined the Femmeslash project over at HPFC. Will be updating it several times each month with drabbles and such. Enjoy.
"Once, she dreamed of romance. Once, she imagined she lived in a castle"
Lucy/Unnamed
Lucy. Even her name felt innocent when rolled off the tongue, soft syllables and short like a nickname. Lucy spent her childhood innocent, dreaming of romance and castles and being told about princes who would sweep her away into gorgeous sunsets. She chased after that, fairy tales her constant companion and the darkness lurking in them never quite reaching her.
Innocent, and this was not. Innocent was not pressing a girl into the wall of a closet, telling yourself that you're too drunk to know what you're doing even thought both of you had barely touched alcohol. Innocent was not her fingers sliding up this stranger's soft thighs, seeking the place between that she'd only read clinical books of, finding it so quickly and finding nothing between her fingers and the dampness there. Innocent was not the moan, breathy and high, that slipped from the girl's lips.
This was not innocent, this was not Lucy, and this girl was not a prince.
And yet...
Lucy found she liked this better than the faceless prince even when she flushed shyly at the girl's own roaming hands, even when they were both too embarrassed to continue, even when they actually got a little drunk and giggled and clung to each other by the lips in a two-person kissing contest. Because it was a lot better than the boy she kissed last year (looking for the faceless prince) and she wasn't sure why. But she liked it.
Even when her father spent the next year telling her it was wrong.