not actually based on a prompt as such; transgirl!pete/genderfluid!patrick au because i really really really like writing these [plus i can write dysphoria pretty well bc i've had three years worth of it but whatever]
srar!pete-ish [long hair maybe?]/srar!patrick bc i dont even know anymore tbh
trigger warnings for implied self-harm/suicide attempts, abuse, homophobia and transphobia <3 stay safe kids, don't read if any of the above are your triggers.
"I'm a girl."
Pete's voice is too quiet; his eyes are focused somewhere in the tiniest corner of the room, downcast; he's biting his lip shyly, and his words don't sound anywhere near as Pete-like as they should be.
"What, like a trannie? Some gross transvestite?"
Peter I - Pete's father - doesn't sound impressed with his 'son's outburst; his mouth is set into a deep frown and he looks more than a little pissed. Outraged, even.
"Transgender, Dad. I'm not a boy." Pete's voice still sounds strangled, "I'm a girl."
"God don't make mistakes, Pete." His mother's voice cuts in now, harsh and unwelcoming.
"Your mother is right, son. The Lord made you a man and you will identify as such." His father never used to sound so cruel; yet now that he knowns his son is actually his daughter.. he's changed.
"Dad, Mom, you don't get it!" Pete sounds highly strung and upset; her voice raising in octaves, "I'm a girl! A girl, a girl, a GIRL! I always have been!" With each word, she gets louder and shriller. "I'm a girl!"
"Pete, son, I don't want any of this nonsense," Her mother's harsh words cut in, worse than any knives; she sounds angry, disappointed, upset. Pete doesn't get why, though; she's been feeling like this for years, ever since she was a kid.
"It's not nonsense, Ma. It's how I've been feeling ever since I started walking on this earth!" She whines, tears spilling down her cheeks, "I'm a girl!"
"Enough of this, son!" His father roars, "You're a fucking boy, like it or not! You're not some disgusting transgender scum; you're our SON! S-O-N!" With each word, he smacks his daughter; huge, painful hand marks across her smooth, olive skin, the red flesh searing with pain. She howls with each slap, trying pitifully out of pain, to no avail.
Pete leaves the house late that night, and runs away.
----- Four years later... -----
She's eighteen now; her hair has grown out long and pretty; she wears makeup to look girlier and stuffs her shirt with material to make it look like she's got the boobs she's always wanted - but she fools no-one. They all know she's trans. And they don't believe her, no matter how much she declares she's a girl.
They're not mean as such; they just don't call her a girl.
Which really, really sucks.
But, as her only friend, Renee Ross - another transgirl, thankfully enough - suggests, she goes to the weekly Gay-Straight-Alliance meeting for the first time.
And then, Pete meets Patrick.
They were like the sun; so adorable and cute and perfect in every fucking way. The curve of their face, the way they were obsessed with hats and scarves; their absolutely incredible singing voice.. They were perfect.
As the only other non-cis member of the GSA that Pete hasn't met, Patrick is more of an adorable and cute anomaly; Hurricane Patrick, Pete dubs them, is a welcome hurricane, all wrapped up in a cute fedora and a snuggly sweater.
Pete wants that kind of hurricane, she decides, and she wants it now.
--------------------
Pete and Patrick become quick friends; yet Pete soon develops a crush on them, and very fast. But then, they're just so cute.. Can you really blame her..?
--------------
"So, there's a pride parade coming up."
Pete's writing lyrics in the back of her Science textbook when Patrick comes bouncing up with a shy grin across their cute little face - something she tries hard not to "aaaw" at.
"Mmmhmm." She looks up at him expectantly, "Renee hasn't been able to talk about anything else." An eyebrow arches, a smirk crosses her face, "What about it?"
"Well... would you wanna come with me?" They asked shyly, blushing, "You know, as a date? My friend Brendon is inviting a bunch of my other LGBT+ friends.. they're bringing along their partne-"
"It sounds lovely." Pete interrupted him with a genuine smile, "Text me the details?"
"W-Will do."
------------------
It's the day of the pride parade. Pete's absolutely beaming; she's wearing a cute, light pink dress with dangerously high stilettoes and a fucking flower crown, because Patrick insists they match in cuteness.
There's cheering and yelling and everyone is fucking happy as shit - until the protesters arrive.
Holding their signs screaming hatred and phobia, it angers Pete a fucking lot. So, she grabs Patrick's collar and pulls them close, pressing their lips against hers in a long, sweet kiss, right in front of the shell-shocked homophobes. Their lip-lock lasts a good three minuets, before Pete pulls away breathlessly, grinning. Patrick just beams back, before pulling her close again; hands running through her long hair, upsetting the headband of flowers, keeping her steady.
The protesters leave, and Patrick stops kissing her, their face flushed bright pink with an adorable blush, their fluffy, golden blond hair scruffed up. The two share a grin, before Patrick sighs, getting down on one knee and asking,
"Will you destroy heteronormative romance with me?"
Pete doesn't hesitate with her reply of, "Yes."
A/N - I ACTUALLY WROTE SOMETHING I LIKE OMG THIS IS INCREDIBLE
I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMG
yeah i'm sorry
i have a brallon planned?? does anyone even ship that???? idk
- quinn
