||t h e o f f i c i a l f i c t i o n||

Moved.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Fri, 29 Sep 2006 17:51:11 GMT

All new fanfiction written by me will now be located at oddz_and_enz along with icon posts and any other random art, I hope to see you all over there!

This journal will remain as an archive of fiction written by me between Feburary 2004 and May 2006.

Thank you for reading!

Small Victories

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Tue, 02 May 2006 09:56:47 GMT

Title: Small Victories
Author: femslashqueen AKA privateuniverse AKA Jacqueline Lauren Hope
Fandom: The west Wing
Pairing: Ann Stark/Andrea Wyatt
Rating: TV-MA
Taboos: Adultery, not exactly consensual bondage, voyeurism, masturbation
Additional Warnings: Femslash
Prompt: contrary, estranged, alien, exotic
Disclaimer: Sadly not mine, if I lived in Sorkinverse I's have no need to write fanfic, please don't sue, I'm just a poor politics student
Words: 1,528
Spoilers: There is nothing remotely related to explicit spoilers but timeline wise it is set around the time of the flashbacks in Debate Camp.
Summary: It amazes her that after all this time, years (or maybe it's been a decade now) she is so willing to go to her (even after Andy had married Toby).
Written for: dooooooom
A/N: The prompts have been reduced to subtext, very deep subtext, this is not the story I had originally planned on using, I couldn't get that one finished in time but this one works almost as well. Minor Characters are love, especially when the minor characters are played by Bird York and Felicity Huffman.

“Fuckwit,” she says out loud to no one in particular as she hangs up. The phone almost instantly starts to ring again and she would have let it ring out had it not been been easier in that moment to answer it and deal with whatever the asshole on the other end wanted than tolerate the pounding sensation the monotonous ringing sent through her entire body (if only the aspirin would start working). If it was Mosley she wasn't even going to tear him a new one, (much as he deserved it), that could wait and anyway she had lost that fight (that job should have been hers).

She picks up the phone and answers it trying to hide her irritation, “Hello, Ann Stark.”

“Um...” There is a pause but she already knows who is on the other end, it's Andy Wyatt and that one uncertain word (though Ann's not sure that 'um' is a word, in fact she's fairly sure it's not) says volumes, Andy's voice is high, cracked, it sounds as if it may break with the next syllable that escapes her lips. “Hi...” she finally continues and sure enough her voice breaks, there is a long silence (or at least it feels long) followed by a muffled sob and then a gasping sigh “Toby... Toby...” she sobs before trailing off.

“Are you at home?” she asks, her arm reaching almost involuntarily across her desk, to one of the visitors chairs, for her overcoat and her feet search underneath her desk for her shoes, it amazes her that after all this time, years (or maybe it's been a decade now) she is so willing to go to her (even after Andy had married Toby).

“Yes.” Andy replies simply her voice considerably calmer now, the calmness makes Ann smile, she's not quite sure why (she usually prefers Andy pissed off, distressed or both).

“I'll be there in 20 minutes.” Ann replies standing up, adjusting her feet in her shoes and slipping on her coat.

*~+

Ann walks up to the front door of Andy's house, her car is parked around the corner, just in case (in case of what she isn't quite sure, if Toby comes home and walks in on them, the fact that she is fucking his wife is going to be monumentally more damaging than her car being parked in the driveway and she finds it highly unlikely the press would ever get involved).

She smiles again when she sees the note on the front door, 'Come in, I'm in the bath, the key is under the mat.' it says in Andy's loopy scrawl. Ann opens the door and lets herself in, hanging her coat neatly over the coat rack in the entry and kicking off her shoes, in the living room she finds a bottle of almost empty merlot sitting on the coffee table, she reaches for it and drains it's remaining contents in one swig, (she's feeling much better than she did before but her headache still lingers, Andy, she's sure will take care of that) throwing the bottle in the recycling before heading upstairs.

Ann can hear her through the bathroom door, Andy's low throaty moans reverberate through her whole body causing her to shudder and tingle as she strips off her clothes, right there in the hall (a split second decision, normally Andy likes to undress her and Ann likes being the submissive one, if only for a second and Andy is a bit of a neat freak, another precaution it's really too late to take) now she wishes she had her shoes, Ann decides she likes that visual, completely naked with the exception of a pair of five inch heels (maroon velvet Manolo Blahnik's, the only pair of heels she owns) and she knows Andy would appreciate it, oh well too late for that now.

Ann opens the door and gasps at the sight before her, her nipples instantly hardening. Andy is lying back against the side of the narrow side of the corner tub, facing the door, her legs open wide. Her shapely calves lying against the opposite edge of the tub with her long narrow feet dangling over the edge, her milky almost translucent skin and the porcelain of the tub almost meld into one. Ann's eyes travel upwards, over Andy's supple thighs, just begging to be touched. Her hand is casually draped between her thighs, her fingers massaging her clit, the contrast between the skin of her arm and her neatly trimmed, flame red pubic hair is a thing of pure beauty. Her stomach muscles are rippling, almost hypnotically and you know she is close to coming. Her other hand is stroking her breasts, long, agile fingers rolling her hard nipples between them. Tendrils of her hair caressing her chest like flames. Her head is thrown back, the tendons of her neck protruding just waiting to be kissed and sucked, her skin flushed. Her lips are slightly parted, swollen and red, cheeks flushed the same color are her neck, her eyes are almost closed, Ann takes a second to drink in the image before leaning down and taking Andy's toe in her mouth.

Andy's eyes fly open and she pulls her foot back, and stops what she is doing (Andy's ability to control herself never ceases to amaze you), shaking her head, a smile spreading over her face. “Hello.” She says as she makes one fluid movement twisting 180 degrees so her face is only inches from Ann's, the huskiness of her voice and the sensation of her hot breath against Ann's cool skin sending another shudder through Ann's whole body.

“This I like.” She continues tracing a wet finger across Ann's collarbone.

Ann smiles, whispering “I thought you might,” as she leans in to kiss Andy's still parted lips, she is confused for a second as Andy pulls away and reaches over the side of the tub, grinning as she faces Ann again, two of Toby's ties and a pair of sheer silk black pantyhose in her hand.

“Give me your wrists.” Andy commands taking the one of the ties and straightening it out, Ann falters momentarily before complying (she could never tell Andy that she has never done this before and that it in all honesty scares her a little).

Andy expertly binds Ann's wrists together, behind her back, “Stand up,” Andy says firmly, Ann does as she is told and Andy slowly, deliberately exhales over Ann's sex as she ties the pantyhose around Ann's upper thighs, dragging the soft fabric over her inner thighs, “Sit down, give me your ankles.” Andy instructs, her voice almost robotic (Ann decides that Andy is even sexier when she is the dominant one). “Now what?” Ann asks as Andy ties the final knot in the bind around her ankles.

“Nothing, just sit there and watch.” Andy replies resuming her semi-reclining position legs dangling over the edge of the tub, she starts massaging her breasts again and Ann is overwhelmed with the desire to touch herself.

Ann watches with intense fascination (and increasing frustration) as Andy moves her hand downward across her taught stomach, around the curve of her hip down fold of her groin and on to her inner thigh, Ann tries her best to concentrate on where Andy is touching herself, tries to commit it to memory for next time (if there is a next time) Andy finally works her way to her clit and lets out a deep groan as she brushes her fingers against it, Ann strains against the binds as her hips buck forward involuntarily.

Andy quickens the strokes against her clit as she enters herself first with two fingers, then with three, she starts to move her hips in rhythm with her strokes, lifting herself tantalisingly close to Ann's face, Ann tries to reposition herself, she is aching from the desire now but nothing works, the binds are too tight and she is stuck.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God.” Andy starts to gasp as every muscle in her body contracts, Ann can see her Andy's muscles tighten and she is desperate to touch her, she writhes against the binds, as she starts begging.

“Andy, please, Andy untie me.” Ann's gasps are futile drowned out by Andy's screams as she comes, Ann tries desperately to free herself as she watches Andy's whole body flush bright red, she moans as a contented smile spreads across Andy's face.

Andy is still for a second before she leans over and kisses Ann across the collarbone before whispering “You have to go.”

“What?” Ann exclaims in protest, every nerve in her body tingling in anticipation of what is not going to come.

“You have to go.” Andy says again, more firmly this time.

“Please... don't...” Ann whispers as Andy starts undoing the binds.

“Sorry.” Andy says coldly, sucking Ann's inner thigh between words.

“Then stop, please.” Ann says her whole body shaking knowing that for the second time that day she has lost (how could she have been so stupid, this has never been about mutual need?)

“Okay,” Andy replies, withdrawing her mouth, a small victory.

011. Only 100_women - Dirty Hearts - Weeds

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 27 Feb 2006 16:32:16 GMT

Title: Dirty Hearts
Fandom: Weeds
Pairing: Celia/Nancy
Rating: R
Author: femslashqueen
Spoilers: Good Shit Lollipop, Fashion Of The Christ
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue
A/N: for 100_women 011. Only, I don't know how good this is but it is the first Weeds fic I have written ever, I plan to write more soon though.

The day of the funeral she looks almost too composed, she is wearing a black dress with a tasteful yet still revealing neckline, her hair is pulled up of her face in a black clip, little whisps have fallen out and are blowing across her face, large sunglasses cover her eyes but you can still tell she’s being crying.

You sit through the service and imagine taking her aside afterwards, going to a private room somewhere and fucking her so hard that she will forget. You’d tell her that she shouldn’t look so hot when she is supposed to be mourning her husband as your fingers pump inside her fast and furious and your thumb circles her clit and she’d reply with a wry, knowing smile. She’d half-heartedly fuck you back but it will be enough. Afterwards she’d go back to playing the role of the grieving wife and you the supportive friend, later on as everyone is leaving you’d catch her staring off into the distance, licking her lips and pretend that she is imagining you.

***

You don’t see her for several weeks, maybe even months after the funeral, there is talk, depending on who you believe, she is dirt poor, an addict, a dealer, suicidal or any combination of the above. You don’t expect her to show up to the PTA meeting but she does and she looks much better than you expected her to in her tight jeans that show off her ass and black blazer with it’s plunging neckline, you can’t take your eyes off her.

She gets up to discuss the school’s vending machine products and you start a fight for the sake of fighting with her, she is so hot when she is fired up. You imagine waiting until everyone except your and her leave, then pinning her against the wall, she will resist at first but then as your hands run across her body, she’ll relax, you’d touch her in all the right places, she’ll moan as you flick her clit and her hips will buck violently as she comes, she won’t return the favor and you won’t care, it’s not about that this time.

***

You don’t even go home on the day you find out about the cancer, instead you head straight to hers, she’s left the front door open and you walk into the kitchen, it smells of cake baking and something else you can’t quite pinpoint, her her hair is pulled back off her face and she is sweaty, you talk painful small talk for a few minutes before you finally ask, “Have you ever fucked a woman?”

She looks stunned but you can tell that she has.

Finally she admits as she is ushering you out of the house, “Once in college.”

You pick you moment, she is about to close the door when you turn around and announce, “I have cancer.”

Her face falls as she opens the door and reaches out for your hand.

You grab it and she pulls you in close, placing a kiss on your forhead before pulling you into a tight hug.

“Oh Celia, is there anything I can do?” she asks.

You brush her hair aside and whisper into her ear, “fuck me.”

“What?” she whispers back sounding shocked.

“Fuck me, I mean it.” you reply firmly, hopefully she’ll get the hint, you mean this.

You expect her to push you away, tell you to leave, Nancy Botwin would never be party to adultry, you figure that college fuck she has definately had was a one time deal, but she doesn’t, instead she takes you by the hand and leads you up to the spare room.

“Technically...” she says pointing skywards though the still broken skylight, “no one is being an adultrer under my own roof, that would just be wrong.”

You laugh as you rip her apron off, followed by her shirt, knowing it will be the only time.

056. Enemies - for 100_women - Salty and Metallic - The West Wing

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 13 Feb 2006 18:28:00 GMT

Title: Salty and Metallic'
Author: femslashqueen
Prompt: 056. Enemies
Rating: R
Pairing: Andie/Ann Stark
Archive: Ask first
Wordcount: 100 exactly
Spoilers: None
A/N: Unpretty, aggressive porn, this lack pro-nouns so you can guess who is who, kinda inspired by something soaked_in_stars said.

Fuck, first there is is pain, then there is the taste of blood in your mouth, salty and metallic.

There is blood in your mouth because she bit you.

Fucking bitch.

You were kissing her, fucking her, and she bit you.

What the fuck?

You don’t stop kissing her, don’t stop pumping you hand, instead take her upper lip in between you teeth, you roll her lip between them, tug on it gently, she moans appreciatavley. It is then that you bite down. Hard.

She gasps “Bitch!” and pulls away.

You laugh. She is calling you bitch? What the fuck?

This Mess We're In - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Fri, 22 Jul 2005 18:15:55 GMT

Title: This Mess We're In
Author: Femslashqueen
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Sandy/Kirsten'ish
Rating: K+/PG
Archive: With permission (aim.to.try@gmail.com)
Spoilers: 2.22 The Showdown, except not really
Summary: "In the last minutes before the sun comes up, he will lay there silent and still and try to figure out where the hell it all went so horribly wrong and pretend he doesn't already know."
A/N: Angsty, missing scene from The Showdown, though it doesn't mention anything specific about that episode, one-shot

Sandy clings to the side of the overstuffed king-size mattress, knowing that in this position any sudden shift in his center of gravity will sending him tumbling to the floor. In this position even if Kirsten reaches out she cannot reach him, he cannot feel her body heat and suddenly he likes it that way. It disturbs him considering only months before he wouldn't have been able to sleep unless her body was curled into his , their arms entangled, if she let go during in the night, he'd seek her out. He cannot remember when he started sleeping like this, not that he sleeps much anymore. He cannot understand why the feeling of her body against him is now unbearable.

Maybe, it occurs to him for the first time tonight, it is not the feeling of her skin, but rather the smell of her breath that he can no longer stand. Vodka doesn't smell, or at least that's what he has been told, yet can can smell it on her. Or maybe he can smell nothing and that is different after 20 years of smelling the acidic, strangely bittersweet merlot that she used to love.

Or maybe it is what this particular change implies that bothers him so much, that she no longer drinks because she loves a good glass of wine, but because she can't help it, because she's lost control. She no longer drinks merlot because it takes too long to work, because the amount she would have to drink would arouse anyone's suspicions, she drinks vodka, which she has never been particularly fond of because it is works faster, is difficult to detect and easy to hide.

He feels ashamed he realizes. He didn't even notice the smell of the merlot becoming stronger with each passing day before abruptly changing into this new nothingness, on some bizarre level he can appreciate this change as a metaphor, he has watched her, without noticing, change from the woman he has loved for 20 years into almost nothing, there so little left, only quiet numbness once the alcohol has kicked in, and anger, she is so angry now, he feels like he barely knows her anymore. He knows now that the only reason he still lay here at night, he hasn't really slept in weeks is to make sure she remembers to breathe, doesn't fall out of bed and hit her head, it's all he can do to protect her now.

All his worst fears have come true he realizes, he has failed, failed her, failed their boys, Ryan may not think of himself as part of their family but he does, he hasn't been able to save her from herself, he realizes only now that he abandoned her, because after last summer it was easier.

He stares at the clock on the bedside table, 5:40am, he hasn't slept again and now realizes there's no chance he will, instead, in the last minutes before the sun comes up, he will lay there silent and still and try to figure out where the hell it all went so horribly wrong and pretend he doesn't already know.

Lost Souls - The West Wing/The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Wed, 06 Apr 2005 01:46:45 GMT

Title: Lost Souls
Author: Femslashqueen
Fandom: The O.C./The West Wing
Pairing: Kirsten Cohen/Amy Gardner
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Ask me first, just so I know where it's going
Written for: The 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover Challenge
A/N: Moments of a one-night stand. Second person narrative. Slight A/U for The O.C., takes place early spring 2004, during the California 47th by-election, about three months before Ryan came into Kirsten’s life. Femslash. Title stolen from a Doves song.

Blonde hair and blue eyes, typical southern California girl if there ever was one, tall and thin, million dollar smile, she is the stuff of fantasy and she is walking over to you, hesitant, yet there is still a quiet confidence, you are smitten with her, it is an instantaneous reaction, your heart beats a little faster, you want her, now. Can only hope she wants you, you pretend not to notice the wedding ring she is sliding off as she moves closer.

+++

Her name is Kirsten Cohen, you recognize that name but can’t remember why, not that it really matters right now, her voice has a cool tone, measured and controlled. She never says more than she needs to make her point. So different from you. You like to talk; will argue passionately for hours, if only to avoid silence, she doesn’t reveal much through her body language, although you can tell despite the façade that she is nervous, scared even, it is pretty obvious that this is her first time here.

+++

She orders you a Martini, herself a triple shot of Canadian Club on the rocks, smiles and throws her drink back in one gulp before ordering another.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks after a while.

You smile, surprised that she made the first move.

“What about you husband?” you ask, testing her, making sure that she was for real, that she wouldn’t get scared, back out halfway through.

“What husband?” She asks coyly.

“Let’s go.”

+++

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, already knowing the answer, her shaking hands say it all.

She says nothing but shakes her head.

You’re driving back to your hotel, the Hyatt, Newport Beach, you are thankful you are not staying with the rest of the first lady’s staff tonight.

She is silent for much of ride, “Is it normal to feel this scared.” She whispers.

“Not if you want it.” You say coolly.

“I want it, I’ve always wanted it.” She replies with a shy half-smile. “There was this one time in college, I almost did but I was already married.”

“Are you still married or is the ring you are hiding in your bra just for show?” you ask.

“Still married,” she says looking away from you.

“Why are you here then?” you ask.

“He’s having an affair, with a co-worker.” she says her voice cracking ever-so-slightly.

“I’m sorry.” You reply hoping it comes off as sincere, revenge fucks are always fabulous; you don’t want to ruin your chances now.

“Me too.” She says dryly.

+++

For someone who has never done this before far more comfortable than you initially expected, after a few hesitant pecks she parts her lips, full and red and lets her tongue brush against yours, she kisses you desperately, hungrily and you savor the taste of her tongue, the feel of her fingers brushing against your skin, the wild look in her eyes as passion overtakes her, the smell of sweat and French perfume, the sound of her breath in your ear as she kisses your neck.

You fumble for the zipper on her green cocktail dress and she unbuttons your red silk shirt.

+++

You don’t care in this moment what her husband’s name is or the name of his mistress, if she has children, weather or not she likes Van Morrison, the guilt she’ll inevitably feel come morning all you can think about is kissing her, taunting her, making her scream for you love to be in control, making someone else scream your name is a turn-on. You slide the straps of her dress down, she has an incredible body, if she has had children her pert breasts and taut stomach don’t show it, her skin here is a pale and slightly freckly, a stark contrast to her tan limbs, you kiss her stomach, just above her belly button and work your way upwards towards her chest as she continues to fumble with your shirt, alcohol and nerves making a seemingly simple task next to impossible.

+++

She has finally given upon trying to undo your shirt as her passion and desperation grows finally just ripping the last three buttons out of their holes, she clumsily strokes your breast through your bra as you draw languid, perfectly controlled circles over her chest, causing her to writhe underneath you, she moans to God when you finally choose to slide down her waiting body, leaving a wet trail of saliva where your tongue has traced her skin. She has stopped trying to play with your breast as you slid away from her and now her hands are grabbing wildly at your hair as turn your attention to her inner thighs, you can feel her wetness and heat through her silk panties as you suck a spot in the crease between her torso and her leg that causes her entire left leg to jerk involuntarily as she moans your name with increasing volume.

+++

You feel what could almost be described as a jolt of electricity as your tongue brushes against her clit, she still has one hand in your hair and the other braced on the wall behind her as she thrusts her hips in time with your strokes, she comes easily without you even needing to enter her, she doesn’t really say anything as she comes, just the strangled cry of release of someone who has waited far too long for this moment. You pull back from her slightly after she comes, and look up at her, from your position between her long tan legs, she has a distant, almost dreamy look on her face and you want to ask her if she is thinking about you.

+++

After a few minutes she pulls you up to her and kisses you on the lips, you are looking into her eyes and they are bearing the stereotypical dullness, almost emptiness of someone who is slowly beginning to feel the crushing sense of guilt over what they are doing but feels compelled to continue. She nibbles at your collarbone while unhooking your bra.

“Is this alright?” she asks quietly as she rolls your right nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

“Harder.” You instruct.

+++

“Deeper.” You yell as she thrusts her hand into you while rubbing her thumb lightly over your clit.

She follows the instruction and with that you come, screaming her name, your whole body shaking.

She pulls herself along side you and drapes a hand over your waist in a semi-hug, you have the sudden need to escape but you don’t, you just lay there breathing hard.

“Thank you.” She says quietly before burying her head in your shoulder and falling asleep.

+++

You make sure she is asleep before slipping out from under her, she has curled up to you, in the way that married people always do, and it is difficult to untangle yourself, you throw on a t-shirt and jeans before silently leaving the room, you know it will be easier on her if you aren’t there when she wakes-up.

+++

At least that it is what you tell yourself when you see her exiting the hotel lobby three hours later, tears streaming down her face.

Sit & Listen To The Rain - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 31 Jan 2005 16:16:40 GMT

Title: Sit And Listen To The Rain
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Jimmy, Kirsten, Jimmy/Kirsten, Sandy/Kirsten, Jimmy/Julie
Archive: If you ask first
Spoilers: Kinda for The Ties That Bind
Disclaimer: Not mine, still Josh's
A/N: Killing two plot bunnies with one stone, I hope the dialouge is okay, dialouge is probably my weakest point as a writer and this fic is full of it, pre-canon, mentions of abortion and other potentially unsettling events, angst, lots of angst, one-shot

Jimmy is startled awake by the shrill ringing of the telephone that sits on the nightstand, he isn’t quite sure what time it is but he is aware that it is still very late, or early and that phone calls at this hour are never good, he picks up the phone, despite the shock, staying awake is a struggle.

“Hello.” He says groggily into the receiver.

“Hey Jimmy.” He immediately recognizes the voice of his ex-girlfriend, she sounds distant, distracted, confused or sad, he can’t quite put a finger on it but the tone of her voice combined with the timing of her call scares him, he is glad that Julie is sleeping in the spare room tonight, something about the room being like a furnace, he was half-asleep when she stormed out what he presumes was hours ago now.

“Are you okay Kirsten?” he asks hoping his slight, almost involuntary annoyance at been woken up at whatever ungodly hour it happens to be doesn’t creep into his voice.

“I’m fine, I, I just couldn’t sleep, Sandy’s not here, he’s in New York visiting his mother, who hates me almost as much as my dad hates Sandy, how’s Julie?” she rambles unconvincingly, he can imagine her sitting on her couch in the dark, her slightly shaking left hand compulsively twirling her hair between her thumb and forefinger.

“Julie’s…Still pregnant.” He answers dryly, wanting to avoid further discussion of Julie, still a sore point in their new-found friendship, the reason they eventually broke up although the end had been a long time coming, prolonged by apathy and the misconception that things would eventually get back to the way they used to between them.

“I didn’t wake her up did I? I didn’t even think about her, when I rang, I guess I wasn’t really thinking…” she trails off.

“Kirsten, its fine Julie’s sleeping in the other room; apparently our bedroom is too hot for her. Now what’s going on with you and don’t say nothing, I know you too well.” He says, he wants her to tell him what’s going on he hates being kept in the dark and more so he still feels the need to protect her, he isn’t sure weather this is a friend thing, that he would feel with anyone close to him or something that comes from having loved her, specifically for so long, still loving her even though they have both moved on.

“Um, I should have never rung, at least not now, it’s too late, and I’m sure you have to be somewhere in the morning, I know I do, I have class at eight, nothing is wrong, I promise Jimmy.” She says breathlessly, her voice thick with unshed tears.

“Kirsten, I want to…” she cuts him off before he has a chance to finish.

“I’m pregnant.” She half-sobs her voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know what to do, I’m not ready for this but I can’t do it again.”

Jimmy’s thinks his heart will break as he listens to her sobbing; it’s been a little over five years since they had had what was basically a slight variation of this exact same conversation. She was 17 and he was 18 and there was just no way they could have had a baby, not then, she cried for a week after the abortion, now he wants to cry for her, having to go through this again, he even wants to cry for his lost child. Even though they weren’t ready, even though they didn’t want to go through with the pregnancy, a decision they made together in the end, he still imagines what it might have been like to have a baby with Kirsten, to still be with her, truth be told it was probably the beginning of the end for them. He thinks of Julie in the next room and immediately feels guilty.

“Have you told Sandy yet?” he asks her already knowing the answer, why would she be ringing him in the middle of the night, why would Sandy even be in New York if he knew?

“I can’t.” She croaks through her tears.

“Why?” He asks, wishing he could be with her right now, holding her, telling her over and over again that everything will be okay.

“Because he’ll want this, he has been talking about having kids since pretty much the day we met, I can’t say ‘Sandy, I’m pregnant, but I can’t have this baby, not now.’ It’s different this time Jimmy and anyway I can’t not have this baby, I can’t go through another abortion.” She says the last part of this ramble with determination.

“You have to tell him, what else are you going to do? Break up with Sandy; come back to Newport, live with me and Julie, hide from your father, have the baby and adopt it out?” He says with a slightly sarcastic tone, partially to lighten the mood a little and partly point out that she had very few options.

“Sounds like a plan, when can I move in.” she says a slight laugh through her sobs.

“Seriously Kirsten, you have to tell him, how far along are you?” He asks, voice taking on a more serious tone.

“I know I have to tell him. I’m about 11 weeks, maybe 12, I’ve kind of know for a while though, I didn’t go to the doctor until yesterday so I wouldn’t have the option of making a choice.” She says quietly, he can hear the something, maybe the back of a chair banging lightly against the wall and knows that she is rocking herself back and forth, an old nervous habit of hers.

He is about to speak when she continues, “I want this baby, I do Jimmy, I’m just so scared that I’ll fuck up, can’t even look after Hailey for an afternoon without something bad happening and she is 12, how am I supposed to look after a baby?”

“Kirsten, that was seven years ago, and it was an accident, it could have happened to anyone.” He says and his heart breaks a little more for her, he remembers it as if it was yesterday, she was babysitting Hailey and he was with her, they lying beside the Nichol’s pool and Hailey was being a typically annoying five year old, yelling “Look at me” every two seconds as she jumped into the pool, they were trying their best to ignore her and didn’t see Hailey hit her head against the side of the pool as she jumped in, she was underwater, unconscious for maybe a minute before either of them noticed the sudden silence, when they had noticed Kirsten had frozen to the spot, she couldn’t even scream, it was Jimmy that dived into the pool and pulled Hailey out, started EAR, when she wasn’t breathing, screamed for help, the maid called 911, Hailey was fine in the end but it was touch and go for a few days and it forever changed Kirsten’s relationship with her father, who couldn’t understand how she had let it happen.

“It doesn’t change the fact that she nearly drowned.” She had stopped crying for a second but now she is sobbing again.

“Does Sandy know about this, maybe if he understands why you are so scared, he could understand your point of view a little better” He says wishing he could help he wants to make her less afraid, he knows that the fear and anxiety she is feeling is natural, even Julie who claims to be the most prepared person in the world for motherhood despite the fact the is only 18, claims that because her parents were a how-not-to manual on parenting that she will get everything right, has occasional crises of confidence, Kirsten’s fears unlike Julie’s have a focal point and that that day and possibly her father’s attitude since have scarred her to the extent that they have devastates him.

“No, I always thought that he would think less of me, family is so important to him and my sister almost died because of me.” She whispers.

“He won’t think less of you, I don’t and I don’t even think your dad does. I think you need to stop talking to me and ring Sandy?” He says stifling a yawn.

“Are you sure he won’t think I’m an idiot for letting it happen?” she says uncertainly.

“Positive. What time is it? ” He replies assertively as he can while trying not to yawn.

“It’s 4am and I will ring him, it’s 7am in New York, I know he’ll be up, he accidentally rung me at 3am to say good morning the first night he was there.” She says with a slight laugh.

“Bye Kirsten.” He fakes a yawn as he says it, knowing that she’ll try and stall the goodbyes.

“Thank you. I think I know what I’m going to do now.” She says sounding slightly more secure with herself.

“I think I know too.” He says smiling, knowing that she had really made her mind up weeks ago.

“Bye Jimmy.” She says and he hangs up the phone, falling asleep before his head hits the pillow, he dreams of their children playing together.

After The Fall - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 17 Jan 2005 17:52:42 GMT

Title: After The Fall
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: PG
Character: Caleb
Archive: Ask me first (aim.to.try@gmail.com)
Spoilers: General season 1 & 2
Written for: the_oc_100 challenge #18 - Love
A/N: A little bit of speculative future angst

Caleb married Julie for love.

Named Julie CEO for love.

Watched Julie take the fall he knew was coming for love.

He hoped Julie understood.

Knew Julie wouldn’t, couldn’t.

But he had to protect her, had to, had no choice.

He had hurt her too much, he couldn’t watch her take the fall, she he let Julie take it instead.

He loved her so much, not only because he had to, because you have to love your children but more because she has blossomed in spite of everything into a remarkable woman.

He hopes Kirsten knows this, knows she doesn’t.

Self Help - The West Wing

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Jan 2005 17:13:20 GMT

Title: Self Help
Fandom: The West Wing
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Amy/Donna
Archive: Ask first, it's only polite (aim.to.try@gmail.com)
Spoilers: None
Written for: amydonna challenge #48 - life and/or death
A/N: Two in one night, woah, character death, alcoholic Amy, drabble

Amy likes to remember Donna as vibrant, full of life, she can’t bear to remember the end when all the life was drained from her, she died slowly, too young, 42. Amy has two photos of Donna on her desk in her new office in California, one of her before she was diagnosed, the other is of her at the end, it is to remind her, remind her of the promises she made the promises she breaks everyday, “Be happy.” Donna had said, Amy laughs, “Right Donna,” she says to no one, “don’t drink.” Amy opens a bottle of gin.

The Morning After - The O.C./The West Wing

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Jan 2005 15:16:35 GMT

Title: The Morning After
Fandoms: The O.C./The West Wing
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Kirsten/Amy, Amy/Donna (Immplied), Kirsten/Sandy (Implied)
Archive: Ask first please (aim.to.try@gmail.com)
Spoilers: None
Written for: amydonna challenge #10 - Crossovers/AU's
A/N: I finally hve TWW inspiration, woohoo and and I've finally been able to get this damn plotbunny down on paper, immplied character death, maybe slightly OOC for Kirsten but I have tried to keep her in character as much as possible

Kirsten blinks her eyes slowly as consciousness invades a heavy, dreamless sleep, as she blinks she comes to recognize that she has no idea where she is, or who’s silky smooth legs are intertwined with her own, who’s arm is draped casually across her shoulder, where her clothes are, she jerks away violently, the sudden movement causing her head to pound, everything aches, she’d vomit if she could find the energy.

“Hey.” An unfamiliar, distinctly feminine voice interrupts her panicked thoughts.

“Um, wha…” Kirsten can’t find the words, can’t think, her heart is beginning to pound in her chest.

“Amy,” the woman says by way of reintroduction, “We met last night.”

Kirsten can remember a bar and tequila shooters and kissing and oh, god, Sandy.

“Let me guess,” Amy voice again invades her thoughts, “You’re married and you are so totally the girl who would never do anything like this.” Amy’s voice has a playful, almost sing-song quality as she says this.

Kirsten nods awkwardly and the room begins to spin, and she swallows dryly, trying not to vomit, she can barely breathe, “Did we… please say we didn’t” she whispers.

“Would me lying to you make it any easier for you?” Amy asks, a hint of sadness or guilt or something creeping into her voice.

“No.” Kirsten answers her eyes filling with tears.

“We did.” Amy replies simply.

Kirsten lets out a strangled, half-cry as tears finally began to trickle down her cheeks. She wants to leave wants to run, but she can’t, fear and guilt and the worst hangover she has ever experienced are paralyzing her.

“Do you love him?” Amy asks quietly.

“I love him, yeah…” Kirsten trails off.

“Yeah?” Amy half-asks.

“Things haven’t been that good between us lately. I suppose that’s why…” Kirsten hesitantly admits.

“Oh.” Amy is slightly shocked at Kirsten’s openness.

“How about you, do you love someone?” Kirsten asks her eyelids getting heavy again.

“Yeah, her name was Donna…”
That is the last thing Kirsten remembers Amy saying, she wakes, she assumes what must be several hours later, happy to find that the hangover has lifted somewhat but knowing the worst was still to come.

For some reason she wonders if the same is true for Amy, then remembers that Amy said “her name was Donna,” past tense, although she isn’t religious she says a silent prayer, praying that she never has to refer to Sandy as her past.

Understanding - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 29 Nov 2004 15:40:49 GMT

Title: Understanding
Author: femslashqueen
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Ryan, Kirsten
Archive: With permission
Spoilers: The Distance
Summary: “You feel like you don’t have the right to grieve?”
A/N: a potentially confusing expriment with POV, set sometime after The Distance, ficlet

Kirsten stands outside, just watching, not sure weather or not she should go inside, she smoothes her hair down and twists her engagement ring on her finger, nervous habits, still watching, still unsure, her feet seem to move of their own volition.

Ryan sits on his bed, feeling numb and alone, he wants to cry but can’t, nobody could understand, he can’t explain it, it is ridiculous, the chances the baby was even his were slim to begin with, he knows they were too young and still he mourns.

Kirsten is standing on the first of two stairs that drop down to where Ryan’s bed is, her throat is tight and the words don’t come, not the words she wants to say anyway, the magic words that will make it better, instead she whispers “I cried for days.”

Ryan’s head snaps up, startled by her presence and her words, “What?” is all the response he can muster after he regains the ability to speak. He has no idea what she is talking about, what fuck happened.

“I was 21, it was only a year before I had Seth, I had gotten pregnant and I just wasn’t ready for it, I was going to have an abortion but then I lost the baby, Sandy still doesn’t know.” Kirsten swallows hard, tears are stinging at the back of her eyes and her knees are weak, this is the first time she has ever acknowledged it out loud.

Ryan just stares at her. Unable to speak, why the fuck is she telling him this, he is suddenly aware of mattress moving beside him and her hand in his, he can’t absorb what she has told him. He can’t imagine her ever having even considering an abortion, ever having gotten pregnant without planning it, he can’t imagine her attempting suicide, yet apparently she did, it confuses him.

Kirsten regrets her words almost instantly. She was only trying to tell him that she understands, understands how hard it was to lose a child, even one you were uncertain about, even one you knew you were not ready for, that no matter what it still feels the same and that she has been there and she will be there for him now.

Ryan squeezes Kirsten’s hand and a tear escapes from the corner of his eye “I don’t feel, I don’t know what I feel, I don’t know what I’m supposed to…” he trailed off as Kirsten pulled him into her arms.

Kirsten is finding it harder and harder to keep it together, she holds on to him tight, wishing that she could take his pain, his grief, his confusion and make it make sense for him, knowing that she can’t. “You feel like you don’t have the right to grieve?”

Ryan nods into Kirsten’s back. Her muffled, shuddering sob takes him by surprise and finally he allows his tears to overflow, grabbing onto her desperately, He can feel her tears soak through his shirt.

They hold each other for a long time, long after the tears have stopped, clinging to something indefinable before finally pulling apart, neither of them speak, neither of them need to.

Failing - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Fri, 26 Nov 2004 09:33:38 GMT

Title: Failing
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: G
Character: Kirsten
Archive: Ask first
Spoilers: The Homecoming
Written for: the_oc_100 Holiday challenge
A/N: A little Kirsten angst, maybe my favorite genre aside from Kirsten/whoever smut

Kirsten is sure this year will be different.

She is thankful that Ryan wasn’t there last Thanksgiving. That he was in Chino and that by the time he had returned she had passed out.

She had come so close to failing him that day and it took months for her to realize it.

It took losing him to put their relationship in perspective, even on the day he left she thought of him only as a foster child.

Now he is her son.

Now she has him back.

She has to give him new memories.

This year will be different.

Some Kind Of Incest - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 15 Nov 2004 16:46:57 GMT

Title: Some Kind Of Incest
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Pairing: Julie/Kirsten
Rating: NC-17
Archive: If you aks me first
Spoilers: Anything canon is fair game
Part: 1/4, 2/4 (added 1/20)
A/N: This is an AU following the season finale that I felt complled to write, this chapter is really just a prequal for what is to come, it features alcoholic!Kirsten although future parts may not, I'm sorry for what I do in this chapter but something major needed to be done to kick-start this.

Julie knocks on the door to Kirsten’s office for the third time, Kirsten finally opens it and it is obvious that she is drunk, again.

Caleb worries about her, not that he’d ever tell her that or check that she is okay, make sure she can get home each night, Sandy doesn’t either, he’s too busy burying himself in a pile of nuisance law suits and pretending the last month never happened, he sleeps in the office.

Julie has decided at some point over the last month that she has to care for Kirsten because no one else can, or will, she can’t remember when she started driving her home and putting her to bed or understand why, she didn’t even like her all that much at first or at any point prior to now in the last 17 years but she felt and continues to feel compelled to help her, she is after all her step-daughter. Family.

On the nights when Kirsten isn’t so drunk she is passed out by the time they leave the carpark she talks, rambles about anything and everything, anything so that the car ride isn’t silent, Julie doesn’t like listening to the radio when she drives at night, too distracting.

Julie has grown to like Kirsten, this Kirsten anyway, she is not quite sure if it the real Kirsten she is getting to know but she likes this person.

“Hey Julie.” Kirsten tries not to slur her greeting.

“Hi, are you ready to go?” Julie asks, slightly impatient, she is tired tonight and she just wants to get home to Caleb and sleep.

“Yeah.” Kirsten replies throwing a pile of documents into her bag.

Julie isn’t quite sure why Kirsten keeps up this particular charade; she hasn’t been capable of work in weeks.

“Ready.” Kirsten finally says closing her office door.

-

Kirsten is silent for about five minutes but Julie can see out of the corner of her eye that she is not sleeping, she is staring straight ahead at nothing, her eyes are glazed over and she looks as if she may cry.
“I miss him, them.” She finally whispers.

Julie nods but doesn’t push it. It has only been the last two nights that she has finally started talking about what happened, Ryan was gone, her son was living in Portland, refusing to come home and her husband it seemed was hell-bent on destroying their marriage.

“I went to the funeral by myself, Seth wouldn’t come down and Sandy was working.” Kirsten continues her voice not much louder than a whisper; Julie doesn’t fail to notice the contempt that creeps into Kirsten’s voice when she says the word working.

Julie simply nods, not saying a word, hoping that Kirsten will continue talking, knowing that she needs to.

“The casket was open and even with the make-up and everything, it still didn’t look like him. Dawn didn’t even show-up.” Kirsten’s voice breaks and a tear slips down her cheek.

“Dawn?” Julie asks, confused.

“Ryan’s mom.” Kirsten replies, her voice taking on an unmistakable hard edge.

Again Julie nods and says nothing.

Kirsten closes her eyes, attempting to regain control, as Julie pulls-up into the driveway.

Kirsten opens the door to her house, the nights when Kirsten is semi-coherent Julie usually drops her off in the drive and leaves, tonight she has followed Kirsten inside.

“Do you want a drink?” Kirsten asks as they enter the bar/living room, not surprisingly one of the first rooms in Kirsten’s house remodel to be completed.

“No thanks.” Julie says, quite unintentionally in her best motherly tone.

Kirsten gets the hint.

“I guess I’ve had enough too.” She says dryly.
Julie picks up a picture that is sitting on top of the mantle, it is the same one Kirsten used in her Christmas cards last year of her new family, the one that was so cruelly torn-apart with no warning, if Julie was in her position, Julie can’t even think about what she might do, all in all she thinks at least that Kirsten is handling it remarkably well, well aside from the alcohol thing. Well maybe she isn’t handling it that well but she is still alive and that’s a start.

“I keep thinking about burning that photo, pretend that it never happened.” Kirsten says quietly from behind her.

“Why?” Julie asks genuinely curious.

“Because it’s easier.” Kirsten whispers by way of reply before yawning.

“I’d better get going.” Julie says turning to face Kirsten.

“Thank you.” Kirsten says in an unusually small voice.

Julie smiles.

Kirsten picks up Julie’s hand, absently stroking it for a moment before leaning in and kissing Julie, only a peck but on the lips nether the less, Julie feels strangely familiar rush of heat surge through her body, she hopes Kirsten is too drunk to notice her cheeks and neck are flushed a deep red and knows that she’s not.

“So um, bye.” Julie stumbles before leaving hurriedly.

-

Kirsten has kissed Julie exactly five times in the last 17 years and each time Julie has fantasized about it for weeks, she used to think that it was about Jimmy, that it was because Jimmy loved Kirsten and never her but the two times she has kissed her since the divorce have yielded the same reaction.

Julie climbs into her car and places her shaking hands against the wheel, this is not the first time she has been attracted to a woman, she knows it won’t be the last but something about Kirsten is different, she doesn’t know if it is because she has always been off-limits or something entirely different altogether but there is something definitely different. Something she yearns to explore but she won’t, can’t make the first move this time.

There is something too wrong, too risqué about fucking your stepdaughter, even Julie understands that.

And yet she can’t stop thinking about her.

***

Kirsten’s hot, wet breath causes the skin of Julie’s neck to tingle, her breath smells like whiskey and mint, Julie’s not quite sure how this happened, not quite sure how anything in the last three weeks has happened, all she knows is that she likes it.

Kirsten is still drinking too much but not as much as before, her breath always smells of whiskey and mint and it drives Julie wild.

It started with a kiss, just a kiss, not even on the lips but that, to Julie at least, was the point of no return, before then there had been some lingering hugs, the occasional brush of Kirsten’s hand along the side of her face, Julie can’t tell if this was the start of what is happening now or if this was only a lonely, grieving woman looking to connect with something, anything, if only for a second, maybe this is still about connection and forgetting for Kirsten but Julie doesn’t really care right now.

Kirsten’s tongue is tracing the contours of Julie’s collarbone causing Julie’s breath to hitch in her throat, she grabs Kirsten’s ass and lifts her onto the desk in Kirsten’s office, the location for this afternoon’s, for lack of a better word tryst.

Julie knows they are flirting with danger, knows that if they get caught they would both be ruined, for both of them it would be the end of marriages that are already skating on thin ice, for Julie at least it would mean the loss of a job she has grown to love, maybe that is part of the attraction.

Julie takes control now, pushing Kirsten back against the desk, hungrily kissing her neck and running a hand teasingly close to her breast. Kirsten’s eyes flash bright as Julie slowly kisses her way down to her chest, her still-on shirt, tauntingly grazing her nipple through several layers of clothing, Kirsten’s hands slide under Julie’s shirt, clawing into the skin of her back as Julie teases her.

Julie pulls her mouth away from Kirsten’s nipple and stands-up, before slowly removing her shirt, skirt, underwear. Kirsten expectantly lifts her hips off the desk; Julie complies with her silent request removing Kirsten’s skirt and panties, before unbuttoning her shirt and unhooking her bra. Kirsten groans as Julie’s mouth reconnects with her now bare breast.

Julie’s hand wanders slowly over Kirsten’s taught stomach; causing Kirsten’s breathing pattern to change to gasps whenever Julie’s fingers make contact with her skin, Julie sees the clock on the wall opposite, she knew Kirsten had a meeting at 3, it was already 2:45, “Time.” Julie muttered as a sort of apology before doing away completely with foreplay and entering Kirsten’s hot, wet, waiting body with three fingers and a thumb moving fast over her clit.

Kirsten makes feeble attempts to reciprocate but fails as waves of pleasure rip through her body causing every single muscle to spasm under Julie’s increasingly rapid touch, it doesn’t take much to make Kirsten come Julie has discovered over the last few weeks, one of the few things they have in common, Julie flicks her thumb over Kirsten’s clit one last time, pulling back and watching with increasing excitement as the quick intense orgasm that comes from this particular style of fucking washes over her lover.

The clock on the wall now reads 2:52 and Julie knows there isn’t enough time, “I’m sorry.” Kirsten says apologetically.

Julie nods by way of reply.

“I’ll see you tonight, um Sandy is out of town.” Kirsten says breathlessly as she throws her clothes on and straightens out her hair.

“Okay, are you sure?” Julie says to on one in particular as Kirsten walks out of the room, attempting to regain control of her breathing.

They had been to Julie’s house a few times, but never to Kirsten’s, somehow in spite of all they had done, it felt wrong to be doing it in Kirsten’s house.

Fairytales - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Sat, 13 Nov 2004 16:53:17 GMT

Title: Fairytales
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: G
Character: Julie w/ mentions of Julie/Jimmy, Julie/Caleb, Jimmy/Kirsten
Archive: Drop me a line (aim.to.try@gmail.com) first or comment to this post
Spoilers: General season one
Written for: the_oc_100 Challenge #18 - Hobbies
A/N: This is pretty abstract for the topic but I think it still fits.

Julie used to like dressing up when she was a little girl.

She’d be a princess, always a princess and imagine that a prince, handsome and strong, rich and noble, a prince just like the ones in the fairytales her grandmother read to her would come and save her, love her.

Jimmy was supposed to be her prince but all he turned out to be was a white-collar criminal with a thing for the girl next door who married her out of honor, never loved her.

She knows Caleb doesn’t love her either; she’s too old to believe in fairytales.

Untitled - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Sat, 06 Nov 2004 12:28:51 GMT

Title: Untitled (Any suggestions, please comment)
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: G
Character: Sandy (Kirsten/Sandy'ish)
Archive: Contact me first (aim.to.try@gmail.com)
Spoilers: Vague backstory
Written for: the_oc_100 photograph challenge
A/N: My first O.C. drabble, it kinda sucks.

Sandy absentmindedly flips through the pages of the album.

One photo in particular takes him by surprise, it is of Kirsten and Caleb, Kirsten is maybe eight and Caleb is in his late 30’s, they were dressed in swimwear, Caleb is holding Kirsten above his head, both have huge smiles on their faces, Caleb looks Happy.

“What are you looking at?” Kirsten asks walking into the room her hands clasped over her large tummy.

“Nothing.” Sandy replied quickly, closing the album, wrapping his arms around Kirsten as she sat down, silently promising to himself that he will never become Caleb.

Redefining - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Fri, 05 Nov 2004 15:15:12 GMT

Title: Redefining
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: PG
Characters: Ryan, Dawn, Kirsten
Archive: Ask me first please (aim.to.try@gmail.com)
Spoilers: None
A/N: Takes place sometime in early-mid season one.

Ryan looks down at the piece of paper briefly before tearing it off the pad and throwing it in the bin.

He bangs the tip off his pen against the desk in frustration before taking another crack at the seemingly simple assignment.

‘My mother is an alcoholic.’ He prints in his overly neat cursive script before tearing the page off and tearing it into tiny little pieces which scatter all over his desk, he doesn’t try to gather them up.

With increasing annoyance he presses pen to paper, the ink spreading out in a pretty irregular shape from the felt tip. He silently curses his English teacher for giving him the stupid assignment in the first place; this is 11th grade AP not 2nd.

It should be simple, all he had to do was start, write 500 words about your mother, that is all he has to do, he still has 13 hours to do it, it’s not that difficult.

He tears off five sheets of paper that heave been damaged by the ink and throws them dejectedly into the trash.

‘My mother has blonde hair and blue eyes.’ He wrote on the next fresh piece of paper before flipping it over to the back of the pad, no longer bothering with the trash can, rolling his eyes, ‘most second graders can write better than that,’ he thinks to himself.

‘My mother let her boyfriends beat the shit out of me.’ He writes on one last page before giving up.

It is only now he realizes how tired he feels, his head is beginning to ache, all he wants to do is sleep; he decides that a glass of water might help. He gets up and walks across the patio into the kitchen.

“Are you alright sweetie?” Kirsten’s voice startles him.

“I’m... yeah.” He stumbles.

“You look a little pale.” She says quietly, falteringly.

“I’m just tired.” He says quickly, his voice unexpectedly hoarse.

Kirsten, without hesitation, her motherly instincts taking over reaches out to feel his forehead, ”You feel warm, let me get the thermometer.” She says visibly concerned.

“It’s nothing.” He tries to protest, but his voice fails him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Five minutes later Kirsten removes the thermometer from his ear, “101.2” she reads off the display frowning slightly.

“All I need is some sleep.” He says in reply attempting to get up, Kirsten’s hands against his shoulders are preventing him from moving.

“You sleep in the spare room next to our bedroom tonight.” Kirsten says, something in her tone sounds off to Ryan but he can’t quite figure out what.

“Kirsten, I’m 16, I can take care of myself, I’ve been doing it for years.” He mutters thinking back to his assignment.

Kirsten nods letting him up.

“Good night.” Ryan mumbles as he leaves the room.

“Night.” Kirsten replies.

0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0

The following morning Ryan wakes up cheeks blazing, head pounding, the first thing he sees is mass of blonde hair, he thinks for a second that he is hallucinating before Kirsten’s sleeping figure on the couch next to his bed finally comes into focus.

He moans slightly as he tries to sit up, He can dizzily see Kirsten’s figure leaping off of the couch, moving towards him.

“You didn’t have to sleep in here last night.” He croaks as she sticks the thermometer into his aching ear.

“Still 104.” She frowns, he voice has taken on a panicked edge, she grabs a wifebeater and a pair of sweats from his drawer and hands them to him.

“Don’t want to get dressed.” He moans.

“We have to go to the doctors office.” She states simply.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

“It’s probably just a nasty case of the flu but we need to get some blood samples.” Dr. Norris says as he finishes examining him.

He pales.

“Ryan.” Kirsten looks stricken.

“I’m fine.” He whispers before sheepishly admitting, “I hate needles.’

Kirsten says nothing, simply taking his hand in hers, stroking his the back of it.

He barely notices the needle going in.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Dr. Norris was right it was only the flu.

A week later he feels well enough to go back to school, he hands in his English assignment, it begins ‘My mother’s name is Kirsten Cohen.’

People Like Me - The West Wing

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 04 Oct 2004 14:50:09 GMT

Title: People Like Me
Fandom: The West Wing
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Amy/Mandy
Archive: Ask me first
Spoliers: Vauge late season one
Written for: daily_15 word #127
A/N: Standard 15 minute disclaimer applies

Nobody could ever accuse Mandy Hampton of being the warm loving type.

But today there is an extra edge, an icy coldness that you have never seen before but know well.

You know why, or at least you think you do.

She has talked about it before, she wants out, out of this job which has become a dead end, out of this city, out of your life.

You know that she has made her choice not because she told you but because you saw her condo in the real estate section of the paper yesterday.

But Mandy won’t leave without saying goodbye.

People like Mandy have a strange way of saying goodbye, not using words but rather actions, this you know because you are people like Mandy.

She’ll fuck you tonight harder than you have ever being fucked and then she’ll leave without saying a word, she is too scared of talking, if she talks she might give away too much, she might not be about to walk away.

People like Mandy, like you need to be able to walk away, start over and over and over again.

This time is different though you realize the second you open the door and she says “We need to talk.”

Dirty Little Secret - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Wed, 29 Sep 2004 07:24:09 GMT

Title: Dirty Little Secret
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: R
Pairing: Ryan/Kirsten
Archive: Comment or email me first
Spoilers: The Premiere, The Model Home, The Gamble
A/N: Veers major AU after The Premiere, an exploration of Ryan/Kirsten
Summary: It turns out she is exactly who she thought he was.

It turns out she is exactly who she thought he was.

He had managed to pull the wool over Sandy’s eyes, but she knew better. Seth is far too naïve to understand the games he plays, she is not.

Yet despite this she wants him. She wants to feel his rippling muscles contract underneath her fingertips, wants to feel his hot breath against her neck before he kisses her.

He got her son into a fight and now they both have black eyes, Seth’s is pathetic, weak but his is sexy as hell. She wonders what other bruises, wounds and scars he has, on anyone else scars would be ugly, sad; on him they would be beautiful a sign of strength, that he has survived at all is a turn on.

She told Sandy to take him home. Because it was easier than dealing with the feelings he elicits in her, the desperate overwhelming desire. She understands it, the desire, she felt the same way about Sandy once upon a time; Sandy used to be different, dangerous, exciting, like nothing she had ever known before. Now Sandy id exactly the same as her, she love him, Sandy, her love for him is so deep, it physically hurts, almost, a dull achy feeling in the pit of her stomach to even be thinking of somebody else, especially to be thinking him.

***

Sandy took him home and brought him right back again, his family was gone, he had no one and yet she still didn’t think of him as a young boy who needed nothing more than someone to love him, she only thought of him as a hardened criminal, sexy, nasty dangerous. She was deeply in lust with him. Sometimes all she wanted was not to make love to her husband but to have some random stranger or this young boy who was nothing like a child to fuck her until she couldn’t see straight, to pound into her with such force she thought she might break.

The first night he was back he was still awake at 3am, Sandy was awake too, fretting, he was capable of being a father to this boy; she didn’t ever think she could be his mother.

She had pretended to be asleep that night, waited until 4am when Sandy finally couldn’t take it anymore and crept down to the kitchen, careful not to wake his sleeping family and grabbed four Mogadon, two for him and two for the boy, waited until Sandy had come back, waited until he was deep in a chemical-hazed sleep before leaving their bedroom.

She knew he would have taken the pills, his demeanour changes around Sandy, he is no longer a hardened criminal who gets her son into fights, with Sandy he is like a stray puppy, maybe because he thinks Sandy will let him stay, apparently he has yet to discover that she wears the pants in the Cohen household and she can’t let him stay because scared of him, at least that is what she’ll tell Sandy, truth is she is scared not of him bout of what she wants to do to him, how he makes her feel.

That night she only watched, she didn’t even go inside the pool house, Sandy had left the blinds on the pool house doors open so she simply watched him through the glass. She had a good view his bedside lamp; her bedside lamp was on, casting a dim light over him. He had kicked his sheets off, he tossed and turned in his sleep in spite of the Mogadon, she watched his muscles ripple as he moved, memorized his features. She closed her eyes briefly and imagined him on top of her, felt her nipples harden and her whole body tingle. She turned around and walked away, filled with guilt and regret, she went back to her room and gripped onto her husband, still knocked out from the Mogadon, she held onto Sandy so tight she was convinced he would have bruises the following morning.

But it wasn’t enough, she wasn’t close enough to him, after an hour, long after giving up on the idea of sleep for the night she woke him, fucked her still groggy husband, closed her eyes and imagined it wasn’t him underneath her.

She came that morning for the first time in years.

Then once Sandy left for work she cried, overcome with guilt.

***

She thought she was rid of him after the model home incident, she had an easy excuse, even if it was eating her up inside because she knew the truth, the fire was accidental, the police had said something about paint cans and candles, but it was easier than having him around.

Sandy had figured out something was going on, stopped pushing the issue, Seth on the other hand had insisted on visiting him, she knew it was a bad idea, but Seth was determined and she wasn’t letting him go to a jail by himself.

Two seconds in there, even before that guy started leering at her and she knew she would be bringing him home, she was thankful that the jumpsuit covered up his body, she could just maintain control. She couldn’t believe how selfish she had been, the boy was covered in bruises; there was a nasty-looking wound on his neck, she couldn’t believe that she had done this to him, because she was too weak to deal with having him around, because she couldn’t trust herself when he was around.

That night was with the last time Sandy had given him a dose of Mogadon, and then taken some himself.

She had to see him, she was sure Sandy would contact Child Services in the morning, they had a private investigator searching for his mother, something else was driving her, something instinctual, something independent of any feeling of guilt, remorse or regret she was going to inevitably feel the following morning.

She crept down to the pool house at midnight, this time she let herself in, and sat on the couch, watching him, he was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts and again the sheet had fallen off of him, she watched him in heavy dreamless sleep for hours, he was so sexy, so beautiful, she examined his scars from a distance, he had a long one on his arm, several smaller ones on his back and chest, possibly cigarette burns, she couldn’t resist, she just had to touch him.

She reached out and traced her hand along the long scar on his arm, her whole body tingled; she stood over him and kissed him on the lips her whole body shuddering as a jolt of electricity ran through it, once only once before leaving the pool house.

She went back to the house and dressed herself, leaving a note for Sandy in case he woke before she got back, she had nowhere to go but she couldn’t stay here, not now, she wondered if it would be considered adultery, she drove to the beach, sat on the sand and let the stunning guilt of that she had just done crash over her, she didn’t cry didn’t mover, only concentrated on remembering to breath and trying to get the feel of his lips against hers out of her mind.

When she gets back to the house it is morning and he is gone, child services have picked him up, his mother is in San Diego and they are taking him to her.

“Where were you?” Sandy asked her clearly panicked.

“Out.” She replied giving the vaguest answer possible, unable to face the truth before silencing him with a kiss.

That morning the morning he left; she fucked Sandy stupid against the kitchen counter making sure never to close her eyes, never to think of him, she takes a handful of sleeping pills each night to stop the dreams and Ryan Atwood will always be her dirty little secret.

After Midnight - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 27 Sep 2004 07:57:59 GMT

Title: After Midnight
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Pairing: Sandy/Hailey
Rating: PG
Archive: Ask first please
Spoliers: None
Written for: 15minuteficlets picture #15
A/N: Taking liberties with canon here, Sandy and Jimmy still run The Lighthouse but the boys are gone, standard 15 minute ficlet disclaimer applies

Kirsten had begged him to hire Hailey.

Kirsten had given him the “She’s trying really hard, all she needs is someone to believe in her.” Speech, he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker, he can never say no to Kirsten and after all Hailey is family.

Now Hailey is kissing him.

It’s late, sometime after midnight and she had being hanging around after closing, ostensibly to help, but now she is kissing him and it turns out she is pretty hard to no to as well.

He doesn’t understand why he can’t push her away, it’s not because he wants to hurt Kirsten, that is the last thing he wants, she is hurting enough right now.

It is more that Kirsten is pushing him away, disappearing into herself, it is more that he is desperate to feel someone, anyone touch him.

He isn’t pushing her away.

He is begging for more.

Hailey is more than willing to comply.

He can’t help but think she had planned this.

Kiss - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Mon, 27 Sep 2004 07:14:04 GMT

Title: Kiss
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Kirsten
Archive: If you ask
Spoilers: None
Written for: 15minuteficlets word #74
A/N: Standard 15 minute ficlet disclaimer applies, Ryan/Kirsten is too facinating an idea to ignore

The worst thing about it is that is doesn’t seem wrong.

That is seems so right, so natural.

He kissed her, it was all he knew how to do.

He had been back for five weeks. They had both by now realized that Sandy wasn’t coming back.

It had just taken her longer to realize.

Last night he had found her in the pool house, his pool house, sitting on his bed, he was convinced that she had been waiting for him.

She was crying, she had jumped when he had entered the room, he had tried to back out of the room, leave, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t watch her cry, but he couldn’t leave either.

So he walked into the room, sat next to her, took her hand, wiped her tears out of her eyes, kissed her.

She kissed him back.

She kissed him back passionately, desperately.

She pulled away, “He’s not coming back, is he?” Her voice sounded hollow.

He simply shook his head, no.

She kissed him again, he didn’t stop her.

Momentary Lapse of Reason - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Sun, 26 Sep 2004 18:00:10 GMT

Title: Momentary Lapse of Reason
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Julie/Kirsten
Archive: If you ask first
Spoilers: Nothing major, a small piece of Kirsten backstory
A/N: Crack!fic alert, A Julie/Kirsten piece that wouldn't go away, set 18 years ago
Summmary: She can’t explain it but she needs to hold this young girl, feel her skin against her own

She swallowed the three little blue pills with a glass of vodka, lay down on her bed and waited.

Waited for the pain to go away.

Waited in vain.

She has been home for three days now.

Her world fell apart three days ago.

A distressed 3am phone call from her father brought her back home, back to Newport.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the whole truth “your mother is sick.” He had stated simply that night.

She had come home the next day, her mother was in the hospital, she caught a glimpse of her chart, not so much a glimpse as a long deliberate look, taking in every single detail, she hadn’t meant to but no one would tell her anything.

One word stood out against all the others written in typical doctor’s handwriting, almost illegible, she didn’t even understand the words around it but the one word was all she needed to understand.

Carcinoma.

That word made perfect sense.

Cancer.

Her mother had cancer,

Fuck.

She was only 48 years old.

Fuck.

She is only 20. She is too young to lose her mother.

Fuck.

Hailey is only 10.

Fuck.

She hasn’t seen her mother in 2 days, she can’t, it hurts too much and it will only get worse.

So instead she swallows her mother’s blue pills, valium and vodka and tries to forget.

It isn’t working.

Fuck.

There is a knock on her bedroom door.

She assumes it is her father, but she can’t get up now, the pills and booze are making her dizzy.

Instead tries to shout “Go away!” but is comes out a slur.

“Kirsten?” Julie’s shrill voice echoes through the room.

Fuck.

Her ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend, why the hell is she even here?

“Come in.” she says finally deciding that it will be easier to deal with Julie than Julie telling Caleb that she was obviously drunk, she can’t handle a Caleb Nichol parenting lecture today.

Julie entered the room and turned on the light.

When the fuck had it gotten dark?

Julie looked as if she had been crying.

“Julie, what’s wrong?” She asked genuinely concerned, maybe because she could probably help Julie with her problem, she has the sudden overwhelming desire to be needed.

“I’m pregnant.” Julie whispered, a tear running down her cheek.

Fuck, why the hell is she choosing me to share this information with?

Julie is only 15.

“It’s Jimmy’s?” She finally stuttered, still trying to absorb the new information assaulting her worn-out and overloaded brain.

“Of course it is Jimmy’s!” Julie exploded, “I’m not a slut!”

“Sorry.” Kirsten mumbled not really meaning it.

Julie sat down on the bed, sobs now wracking through her body, “I don’t know what to do?”

She can’t explain it but she needs to hold this young girl, feel her skin against her own, so she pulls her into a hug, rests her forehead against hers, stares into her eyes, “you need to do what is right for you.” She said simply, giving nothing of her own past away.

Julie’s large green eyes bore into her own, strangely it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, “I don’t know what that is.” Tears stream down Julie’s face.

Kirsten said nothing, didn’t know what to say, she just held Julie tight.

It is Julie who initiates the first kiss, it isn’t a peck either, it is a full lip plant, Julie’s tongue is pressing against her lips, like she is asking her permission to come inside, she doesn’t respond so Julie breaks it off.

“I know about your mother.” Julie whispered quietly.

Fuck. Jimmy must have told her.

Julie kissed her again.

This time she responded her, tongue probed Julie’s mouth, fuck, Julie was a great kisser.

They broke apart, breathless, she felt dizzy and disembodied, fucking valium.

She still has her wits about her enough to realize that this is wrong, really fucking wrong; there is definitely something explicitly wrong about kissing your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend, the one who is pregnant with his child.

“We can’t do this.” She gasped.

“Why the fuck not?” Julie asked her voice taking on an animalistic quality as she pinned Kirsten to the bed.

She is too weak to fight and she doesn’t really want to.

Julie’s knee is pressing firmly against her sex, Julie is placing butterfly kisses along her collarbone.

She gasps for air.

Julie slips a hand into her bra, rolls a nipple between her thumb and forefinger until it stiffens, all the time her knee is grinding against her sex harder and firmer now.

Julie’s teeth are grazing over her nipple.

“Jesus.” She cries out.

Julie moves back up to her collarbone, sucking and nipping, all the time her knee is pressing against her sex.

“Julie please.” she groans pushing Julie’s head down before digging her nails into Julie’s back.

Julie doesn’t need to be told twice, slithering down her body in one swift movement placing the occasional quick kiss along the way, Julie licks, sucks and kisses her inner thighs teasing, teasing until she is writhing underneath her begging for mercy, “Julie, please.” She whispers over and over.

Julie finally shoves her lover’s lacy panties aside before flicking her fingers over her clit causing her to scream before entering her with three fingers, pushing hard and deep, sliding her fingers in and out of her, thumb pressing against the older woman’s clit, it doesn’t take much to make her come, as she does she shrieks Julie’s name, followed by repeated whispering of “Thank you,” as she is coming down.

She is starting to get nervous, still breathing hard, she isn’t quite sure she can live up to Julie’s performance, she isn’t quite sure she can do it at all, she is shaking partially out of fear, partially as an after effect of orgasm, part of her wants to cry, the release was amazing, for the first time since arriving back in Newport she has felt pleasure, felt something at all really, she has been numb, fucking valium, fucking vodka,.

Julie is sitting up, she isn’t saying anything, she suddenly leaps off of the bed, grabs her shoes, “Um, I’d better be going, Jimmy will be wondering where I am.” She stutters before hurrying out of the room.

“Bye.” She calls after her, trying to understand what the fuck just happened.

She stares off blankly into the distance towards Julie’s bedroom window, suddenly Julie appears, Julie seems to know she is watching, puts on a strip show, though the window, she feels nothing, the numbness has set in again, Julie blows her a kiss.

For the first time in three days she breaks down and cries.

Sense - The West Wing

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Tue, 21 Sep 2004 15:27:49 GMT

Title: Sense
Fandom: The West Wing
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: R
Pairing: Donna/Various
Archive: Ask first please
Spoilers: Sadly, none
Written for: multifandom1000 Challenge #42 - The Five Senses
A/N: PWP anyone? Was supposed to be a drabble, turned into a drabble and a half

For Mandy it is all about taste.

Her tongue trails slow, sensual kisses all over my body, lingers long after I come.

For Amy nothing matters more than sound.

Nothing gets her off more than fucking me somewhere inappropriate and making me scream as I come.

For Andie it is touch.

Her long agile fingers know, seemingly automatically, precisely where to touch and how.

Abbey the most unusual, smell is her weakness.

Before I fuck her I always make sure to wash my hair, my body, she likes to make me dirty, likes me to come in smelling of peach shampoo and melon soap, leave smelling of sweat and sex.

I like to watch, there is nothing more arousing than watching, right now there are four naked bodies above me, I come the first time before a hand is laid on me, before a kiss is planted on my full, heavy, waiting lips.

Being the submissive one isn’t always a disadvantage.

1020 Seconds - The O.C.

aim.to.try@gmail.com — Fri, 17 Sep 2004 18:32:48 GMT

Title: 1020 Seconds
Fandom: The O.C.
Author: Femslashqueen
Rating: R
Pairing: Kirsten/Sandy
Archive: Ask me first
Spoilers: The Ties That Bind
Disclaimer: Sadly The O.C. isn't mine
A/N: Enough with the fluffy crap, time for some seriously heavy angst, rated for language and discussion of abortion, I know that the situation presented in this story seems a little outlandish but I could see this having happened

The silence is deafening.

Sandy is sleeping… in the pool house.

For the fifth night in a row.

She stares at the glowing green numbers of the alarm clock on Sandy’s bedside table, 2:00, 2:01, 2:02, 2:03… the minutes seem to last an eternity.

The phone rings again, she knows who it is, Ryan, trying, wanting, needing to give an apology she is not yet ready to accept.

She lets the phone ring out.

She knows it was an accident, Theresa had told Ryan about the abortion, Ryan had told Sandy, accidentally, Ryan had assumed that Sandy knew, he didn’t.

It plays over and over in her head like a fucking broken record, years later the old scarred wounds have been violently torn open, this time she doubts they will ever heal.

He had come home that night, after Ryan had told him, assuming, assuming that the baby was Jimmy’s, assuming that she was young, afraid, alone, assuming he now understood exactly what Ryan meant to her.

The minutes tick by, 2:04, 2:05, 2:06.

That is what Sandy does, he assumes, jumps to conclusions, he thinks he knows how to read her, he hasn’t got a fucking clue.

She had listened to him tell her that he knew about the abortion, that he understood why she had to do it, why she needed to do it, how she must have been young and scared and alone.

She had listened to him, didn’t say a word, didn’t move, didn’t show any emotion.

She had let him finish and simply shook her head.

He had looked at her confused.

She had stared dead ahead for what felt like forever before simply saying her voice devoid of any emotion, “The baby was yours.”

She was still staring dead ahead but she could see his face crumple in the mirror on the opposite wall.

“What?” he had finally stuttered.

“The baby was yours.” She repeated her stony demeanor beginning to crack, “I wasn’t a stupid teenager, I was 25.” Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

There was an uneasy silence.

Then Sandy exploded, he leapt off the couch backing away from her, his eyes were on fire in that moment as he tried to absorb what he had just been told.

“Why?” he finally asked, he tried to keep his voice steady.

She felt faint, she couldn’t breath, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move.

“Why?” this time he was screaming.

“I was scared, you were never around, my mom was dying, I could barely cope with Seth, I couldn’t do it, I had never been so alone, you were pissed at me.” She was at this moment a hysterical, hyperventilating, sobbing mess.

“I don’t fucking understand.” He had said his voice cracking, he turned around, walked out to the pool house, he hadn’t said a word to her since.

The clock only seems to be slowing down, 2:07, 2:08, 2:09.

The phone rings again, she picks it up and slams it down, “Fuck.” She screams punching her pillow in frustration.

2:10 she needs to get out of this room.

She needs a drink.

She gets out of bed, she is wearing nothing other than a black slip, it is cold but she is too numb to care.

She walks down the stairs, she fucking hates this, her emotions make no sense to her anymore, she fucking hates losing control.

She pours a shot of scotch she doesn’t even want or like and throws it back with a single gulp, out of nowhere she feels a surge of overwhelming anger, it doesn’t take much creative visualization for the glass in her hand to turn into Ryan’s head she throws it against the wall at close range, it predictably shatters into a million tiny shards.

2:11 the anger turns into overwhelming guilt and remorse.

She falls to her knees into the glass shards, the glass pierces her skin, draws blood, for a second she feels nothing but relief, sobbing uncontrollably, she is more distraught now than she was in the days following the abortion, in the days following her mothers death, in the days following Ryan’s departure, she has lost everything.

2:12 Sandy has crept quietly into the kitchen, in need of water and sleeping pills, he gasps at the scene before him, his wife is on her knees surrounded by the remains of an shattered glass, she is weeping, he can’t understand it, he wants to hate her today, it was his child that she aborted, it was his child who he never even knew about but he can’t stand to see her so broken.

He treads carefully through the glass to her, he picks her up she fights him, tries to bite his hand, screams “Leave me alone!”

He doesn’t give in to her, he can’t.

She eventually gives in, goes flaccid in his arms, he carries her to their bedroom, lays her on the bed.

The phone rings again, he ignores it, Kirsten is going to have to face Ryan on her own terms in her own time.

2:15 She is still sobbing, she has lost all control and yet on some level she feels more secure than she has in days because he is with her, maybe for the first time all she really needs is for someone else to take control for her, for somebody, anybody but her to fix things.

2:17 Exhausted she closes her eyes, Sandy watches her, he will probably never forgive her for her choice, he’ll certainly never understand it not to mention that she is more fucked up right now than she has ever been but for the first time in five days he thinks that maybe they can survive this.