alex || 23 || infp || capricorn || queer real life comes first so pretty please bear with me on replies!
there will be lgbtq+ content here.
smut rarely happens, but if you do wish to plot something like that, feel free to come to me and we'll work something out! multi-muse || multi-verse
You donât have to hide away and imagine asking me to RP. Just HOP INTO MY INBOX, MY MESSAGES, REBLOG AN IC POST, i will be happy to interact with you!!
This blog Loves New RP Partners and Happily Invites Them to interact with me!
wow iâve been gone a hot minute [whoops sorry but work and life got in the way of everything] but iâm gonna be making a return to this blog and revamping everything! Iâm gonna be writing with some musical theatre muses so what would yaâll like to see?
What about a plot of a personal assistant and a celeb? One where sheâs been working for him since he had gotten famous. He canât go anywhere without her and brings her everywhere he goes. They are more like best friend than boss and assistant. The media jokes about how they act like a married couple. And he canât help but mention her during interviews. Sometimes they even sleep in the same hotel room when sheâs working late. BUT NO ITâS TOTALLY PLATONIC!! That cuddling they did the other night?? Completely what friends do!
† five times my muse says they donât love yours, and the one time they admit it.
As Lucas nudged her to move forward, Ray could only bite her lip and push him back a little, not ready to go up to the edge of the field. Heâd been bugging her for weeks to go talk to Santana, to admit that she âlovedâ the Latina in a way beyond their platonic friendship. And as she looked over to the woman on the field, how she was shouting orders and had that stupid, cocky smirk on her face, the only words that came from her lips were denial. âI do not love Santana Lopez.â She walked over to the bench, snagging one of the soccer balls off of it and moving toward the practice field off to the side. âCome be my goalie Luke. So I can land half of these in your gut.â
Prom. She never thought that a private academy would have prom. But here she was, buying a suit to match her non-existent dateâs dress. Her sisters kept asking her who she was going to ask to go with her, but she didnât see the problem in going stag, Rachel even suggesting asking âthat girl she likedâ and immediately the younger girlâs walls shot up. âI donât like her. Donât be stupid Rachel.â She never told them who the mysterious girl was, or how it was her best friend and she couldnât acknowledge how she felt about her. I donât like Santana like that. Thereâs no weird unrequited love. Iâm not about that life. But somehow the words didnât seem to be as convincing as she wanted them to be. They never were.
Football wasnât exactly Rayâs favorite sport in the world, not by a long shot. Soccer and rugby came before it, but here she was at the homecoming football game with Santanaâs jacket on like they were some couple or whatever. They werenât, even if people thought they were and kept asking her if sheâd finally replaced Quinn. Sheâd snap at each person, âIâm not dating Santana. I donât like her like that.â Even if it was obvious to everyone how she looked at the Latina. There was a connection there and she knew that there was deep down, she just refused to acknowledge that maybe she did like Santana like that. Maybe it was more than just a crush she had when she first saw the girl. Maybe now it was scary. No. It couldnât be. I donât like Santana like that. Sheâs my bro, my buddy.
Ray didnât know what the hell she was even doing walking up to Santanaâs home, knowing that she probably wasnât even home. But the small brunette hadnât seen Santana in nearly a week, which was unusual for the duo. They saw each other nearly every day, or at least spoke. But they hadnât even had that yet. Knocking on the door, she half expected there to be no answer, but what she got was actually worse than that, even if she didnât really know how or why it was worse. But as a pink haired Quinn Fabray answered the door, she felt like she was now two foot three and not five three. âBerry. What do you want?â The former blonde snapped, eyes glaring daggers into her small form. âI just wanted to see if Santana was home or not, I hadnât seen her in a few days and I thought we could shoot some hoops. Youâre not her keeper Quinn.â Thatâs when it hit her, Quinn was there. Why was Quinn at Santanaâs? She never was there unless Santana had the kids and that had only been to drop them off typically. Then as her friendâs voice rang from the house âBabe, come back the movieâs on,â something came over Ray and she bolted, not wanting to think about her heart shattering for no apparent reason, or the way her stomach twisted in knots. She didnât want to admit that maybe she had a reason to feel this way. She didnât have a reason, she couldnât. But there it was, that feeling of jealousy rising in her throat. I donât love Santana, I do not.
Berry. Get your head in the game. Sheâs out there, sheâs watching. Just play. You need to keep the team in the lead. Stop making it a big deal that Santana took time out of her busy life and her girlfriendâs demands for attention to come to your stupid soccer game. Sheâs just your friend and thereâs nothing that you should be excited over. Sheâs come to plenty of your games, granted not while sheâs dating Quinn but still. She cares. Sheâs your best friend. Rayâs inner monologue was going nuts as the brunette kept getting distracted during her match, almost costing them a point or two. All to search for the Latina that had been rather distant for the past two weeks. Sure it wasnât too terrible because they still were in the same Chemistry class, picking each other as lab partners. But it still kind of stung that her friend ignored her, even if the feeling in her gut wasnât just that it stung. It rang more of a jealous tone to it. but that didnât matter, she couldnât think about that. She had a game to focus on.
Ray took in a sharp breath, walking up to Santana in the middle of the dance floor theyâd turned the roof into, âWould you like to dance?â She asked quietly, hands trembling slightly as she tried to push her nerves back. She was asking Santana Lopez to dance, it wasnât like it was someone like super intimidating or that she could possibly impress. Santana had seen her at her very worse. But sheâd also seen her at her very best. And the fact that she stuck around might be the very reason Ray was so nervous. Or the fact Quinn Fabray was glaring daggers at her as she held her hand out to her best friend. âItâs just a dance Quinn, I promise. One dance and sheâs back to you.â That was when Quinn snapped, accusing her of trying to win Santana over, that she was in love with her or something of the sort, to which the small brunette felt all her walls shoot up at. âI-I donât love Santana. Sheâs my best friend Quinn. Grow up and get over it.â But something in her voice showed she didnât really even believe her own words, so how could everyone else. Did she love Santana? She couldnât.
Things hadnât been adding up this entire time sheâd been sitting across from Santana and Quinn, the girl sheâd brought on this âdouble dateâ having dipped about twenty minutes prior. She wasnât comfortable bringing someone else and she didnât know why. It wasnât that she was ashamed of her sexuality or anything. It wasnât even that it was a situation with Quinn. It was how overly affectionate the punk girl was with Santana, how over the top everything was and how it made her stomach twist in knots. Each kiss they shared, Ray ducked her head, wanting to melt into the booth. And each time sheâd try to excuse herself so they could enjoy their date, Santana had asked her to stay, seeming to be sincere. So she did, she didnât know why, Santana was just a friend and she should be able to tell her friends no, but something about how Santana looked at her made her want to stay. And as she stared off into space she began to day dream about Santana and her, romantically. That was off the wall sort of thinking however and she snapped back to attention, turning bright red and once again saying she could excuse herself, only to be met with Quinn asking if she was uncomfortable with their relationship. Her main accusation once again being that she was in love with Santana. And before she could stop herself, Ray snapped, âMaybe I am. Whatâs it to you Fabray.â Slamming her hand over her mouth, she darted out of the building without looking back, wallet and jacket still on the seat beside her.
â« Â five times my muse swears itâs not a date, and the one time it maybe is.
They were walking through the park in the middle of the afternoon, sun beating down and birds chirping. Ray had that silly picnic basket and they were heading towards the small duck pond. It was just her and Santana and it felt weird because she was used to at least someone else tagging along and making things seem less intimate. But something about today felt different. Ray had brought her art supplies, some of them at least, and packed them a decent lunch. It was sort of an apology for missing Santanaâs game sheâd promised to be at, and the Latina seemed okay with that. But it wasnât a date, she made that clear to Quinn when she was approached, they were just friends. The Fabray didnât like Ray, and she never had approved of their friendship really, but Santana evidently didnât care. But as the afternoon wore on, and they slowly slipped closer, Ray found her mind trying to convince her heart it wasnât a date, even as she cuddled into Santana. Even as Santana took her hand as they walked back.
Movies were something friends went to together, and were never specifically a date like activity. But going to a horror movie together? When one of you always grew scared during them? That was a more date like scenario. Right? No, it couldnât be a date, at least not tonight. Sure Ray didnât always get scared during horror movies, but this one was scary, and she couldnât help but curl into Santana. The Latinaâs arm was around her, it was a natural feeling to cuddle into someone when that happened. This was totally a platonic situation, they were kind of in the middle of the theatre, watching Lights Out, so it shouldnât be absolutely without a doubt a date. They were just best friends. Maybe closer than most best friends really were, but there was nothing between them. Santana had Quinn, and Ray had⊠well she had her art. But even as Santana left a kiss to her cheek, Ray had to remind herself that this wasnât a date, it couldnât have been a date. They were friends. Nothing more.
It was just a late night homework session, but the atmosphere was something completely different from what she was used to. She was surrounded by candles and Santana had made her homemade food, but thatâs everything that she usually did. Theyâd meet up at Santanaâs place and watch TV or do homework and Santana would always insist to cook for her, even though they both made plenty of money to order take out now and again. It was kind of romantic if she thought about it, but she didnât think about it she refused to let herself think about her best friend in anything other than a platonic light. That would just lead to her fucking up her friendship with the Latina. But there was something about tonight, and the way that Santana looked that suggested maybe that wouldnât mess stuff up.
Prom. Theyâd gone as friends, nothing more. Thatâs what theyâd both insisted but as she stared into Santanaâs eyes during the last slow dance of the night, Ray couldnât help but feel butterflies in her stomach. There was such a connection between them, she couldnât deny that she was feeling something for Santana beyond friendship. Being the proud woman she was however, she refused to admit it out loud when she was alone, so saying it directly to the Latina was beyond the scope of things. She was going to swallow her feelings instead of her pride and insist that they were just friends, even as the distance between them continued to shrink, and the smile on her lips was one only the latina could give her.
Ray wasnât stupid,, she knew that she was in love with Santana Lopez. She also knew that there was no way Santana would ever love her back, after dealing with the mess that the Berry girl was for the past two years. However, one night when she showed up for a jam session, the usual crowd wasnât there, Santana was dressed up nice, and had announced that they were going to dinner first. Looking down at her clothes, Ray felt mildly underdressed compared to Santana, but the Latina had evidently prepared for that, as she thrusted an outfit toward her to change into. This wasnât like the woman, but Ray didnât argue, changing and letting herself be taken to dinner. Sheâd expected theyâd split the bill like normal, but as they pulled up to a higher end restaurant, her eyebrows raised. Was this what she thought it was? Throughout the dinner Santana took her hand, or made eye contact that left Ray a flurry of butterflies. And when Santana paid for the meal? Ray couldnât help but read even further into it, letting her mind think maybe it was a date. But the deciding factor came as Santana dropped her back off at home at the end of the night, and the light kiss to her lips confirmed that it was, indeed, a date.
âYOU WONâT FORGET ABOUT ME, WILL YOU?â for any/all ships
âYOU WONâT FORGET ABOUT ME, WILL YOU?â
The words echoed in Rayâs head as she wandered down the sidewalk, moon high in the sky and her heart off somewhere in the midst of Ohio. She wouldnât forget about Santana, there was no way she ever would shake the feeling of the girlâs hand on her shoulder, or the way her heart leapt when she thought about all the times they could have made that leap from friends.
But sheâd been too scared, she was always too scared. Going from one day to the next, daring in every aspect of her life except for when it came to love. And now she was a Junior in college, having spent 3 years away from Santana and no, she hadnât forgotten the woman whoâd literally saved her life more times than she could count on her fingers, but did Santana remember her?
It was silly to think that three years was all it took for someone to forget their best friend, but they never really spoke anymore. Santana had gone off with some girl Ray never met and they seemed to be happy with their life together, but that little message icon always took so much effort to press. As she pulled her phone out now, she knew she needed to. Her fingers typed and retyped, finally she hit send.
âHey.â
After another moment or two, her phone made a soft ping.Â
