#smth smth ava modeling her look off of nate from gossip girl but w a side of slutty blair i can't explain further but u get it

[possibilistfanfiction]

I love Beatrice feels about Avas gender identity (or lack of). And how, for Beatrice, her womanhood is still an important part of her, even if she expresses that part differently than other women. And how Bea is just down for the ride when Ava experiments with their gender expression, just endless support and love and just letting Ava try out whatever they want. Like the scene with the binder, Ava wasnt visibly uncomfortable or weirded out, she just said that it wasnt something for her, and Bea never discouraged her of trying it out by telling her that she wouldnt like it, or other masculine things that fit better, like the suit. So yeah, thanks for having someone like Ava who doenst give a fuck about how she "should" dress and act as told by society and then Beatrice, for whom womanhood is still an important part of, but she puts her personal own spin on it, so she still feels like herself and happy. So, yeah you said you already have two butch!Bea prompts, so I just wanted to request a Avatrice fic with some happy gender expressions/feels it doesnt have to be butch!Bea AU, if you want. But yeah, I love how you write Beas butch style but still in touch with her womanhood. (And of course her kicking ass in Aikaido class ;) )

‘wow,’ you say, a little breathless. ava grins, spins around in their tuxedo slacks and button down with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, an old binder of yours that’s loose on them but still offers some compression underneath, paired with patent leather loafers and a tie loose around their neck. they’ve slicked their hair back neatly and are grinning, arms outstretched. ‘you look amazing.’

‘yeah?’

‘of course,’ you say, as if there was any other possibility. ava wraps her arm around your waist and looks in the mirror at the both of you together: it’s a little different, because you’re used to ava in the dresses and crop tops and flowy pants he loves, an old favorite pair of overalls — but it’s, like, really, really hot. you’ve learned through your friends and therapy and ava’s own deep exuberance around queerness that you really are in love in so many of its forms, the textures it takes and allows; while you feel much, much better and safer and more comfortable and at ease in yourself when you’re in loose, easy pants, your chest flat, your hair short, you have never begrudged ava their expansion. they’ve seen so, so much, lived through more pain than anyone should ever have to, so everything about them, even at their most annoying, is beautiful to you.

‘if i wore a packer into a cathedral, do you think i would be struck down or something?’

it takes a second too long for your brain to get unstuck from the heat that races down your spine; ava smirks. ‘are you —‘ unfortunately your voice comes out a little strangled and you have to regroup — ‘are you wearing one?’

‘nah,’ ava says. ‘thought about it, but these pants are kinda tight and if i have to sit through some dumbass pomp and circumstance at the vatican i’m at least going to be comfortable.’

you hum, the best you can do.

‘maybe i’ll wear it tomorrow with that new skirt i got in madrid though,’ she says, far too casual for the victorious expression on her face. 

‘well, you do know god best.’

‘that’s so true,’ ava says, preening again and then turning toward you. ‘gender expression, totally cool with god, if you can believe that.’

‘i suppose i can.’ ava’s smirk softens into an easy smile, one you revel in every time it’s for you, the way sunflowers turn toward the sun. 

‘plus, this little vest situation you have going on is, like, so hot. god can’t begrudge me your arms, not after all i’ve done.’

you huff at their obvious delight in flustering you, but it’s summer and very hot and, really, the light sweater vest you’d picked out to go with your very church-appropriate slacks is also quite tame. 

‘i love you,’ they say, softening again, and kiss your cheek. ‘now, let’s go scandalize some conservatives, shall we?’

you laugh, unable to resist ava’s warmth, again and again. ‘we shall.’