choni oneshots

Dazed and Confused

The bar was called "Sapphic Sapphire." Cheryl snorted quietly to herself—the name was hardly subtle.   

What are we doing here, Blossom. This was a terrible idea. It's 10 o'clock, still plenty of time to watch a rerun of Buffy before bed. 

The image of her Nana Rose taking her dentures out soon permeated her stream of consciousness, a fun nighttime ritual Cheryl visibly flinched at the thought of. Not tonight. We're doing this. She stuck her finger between her lips and slowly popped, making sure her red lipstick hadn't smudged onto her teeth. If she was going to embarrass herself, she might as well look good doing it.

Riverdale wasn't known for its vibrant gay scene. Quite the contrary. The only reason Cheryl had found out about the bar in the first place was through eavesdropping on a conversation between Kevin and a nameless Serpent—Finn? Fan? It didn't matter. She's here now. And she's terrified. Her fake Connecticut ID looked like it was photoshopped by a seventh grader at best and claimed she was 26. At a ripe age of 18, Cheryl flashed a dazzling smile at the bouncer. Worked like a charm.

Walking through the door, her long red duster barely scraped the floor, definitely picking up the residue of some terrible mixture of alcohol and desperation. The tireless bass of "Heaven is a Place on Earth" by Belinda Carlisle immediately filled her ears and the corners of her mouth upturned. How cliché.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, scanning the room for an open table. Her eyes settled on a small circular table in the back of the bar, where she soon sat and took the opportunity to really take everything in.

She looked into the sea of plaid and low rise jeans and shuddered slightly, running a hand through her long ruby hair. Looking down at her tight black turtleneck and leather skirt, she felt out of place—like she should be playing a role that she just didn't fit. Furrowing her brow, she scanned some more, meeting the gaze of the bartender. She must have looked ridiculous, as the bartender gave her a small yet comforting smile, like she knew Cheryl was in the infancy of her life as a lesbian. Cheryl smiled back politely before scanning some more. 

She decided to people watch, as that's the only thing to do when you're at a bar by your fucking self, and is entertained for a few peaceful minutes. She was interrupted, however, by the bartender coming over, carrying a gimlet.

She set it down on the table, and with a smile stated, "The girl over there, Toni, she just bought you this."

Biting her lip, she glanced over at the jukebox. It was here that she met the gaze of a girl—Cheryl's breath hitched.

The girl was leaning against the jukebox, holding a lit cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. She was wearing a black leather jacket (a Serpent, no doubt), a t shirt of some band Cheryl definitely hadn't heard of, and fishnet leggings under tiny black shorts. Her hair, long and pink and wavy, perfectly framed her face and looked heavenly against her olive skin. She couldn't be more than 5'2, yet everything about her screamed "it's very possible that I've killed a man before." She dragged her gaze up and down Cheryl's body before settling back on her eyes. 

A minute passed.

They were still looking at each other. After what felt like an eternity, the girl quirked an eyebrow and took a drag of her cigarette, before turning to the jukebox to queue a song. 

Cheryl what the fuck. What the fuck was that. You couldn't even choke out a smile, are you fucking slow, what the fuck. Leave now before you embarrass yourself even more you absolute dimwit.

And then the beginning synth of "Heart of Glass" by Blondie echoed through the room, and Cheryl immediately perked up. She loved this song.

She glanced back over at the jukebox, and saw the girl was now talking to another girl. Blonde, of course.