#Mom's Little Turkey Tee

[teeshiiitmood]

Check out this awesome 'thanksgiving Mom's Little Turkey' design on @TeePublic!

[taurasiscntybun]

Thanksgiving stuffing

- BG x Femme reader

-Graphic descriptions of sex, adult language, size kink, daddy kink, sub/dom

- 1,500

-for @taurasicomplex so she can stop sending me anon bg requests

“Fuck B, you know I gotta get this going before your mom an’em comes.” You say as BG wraps herself around you against the counter. You attempt to ignore her, flipping through your worn recipe book, trying to remember how much butter went in the cornbread.

“Mmmm, come on baby, calm down, you got half of tomorrow to cook too, and mom and pops will be here.” Her large hands wander under your apron and tease at the hem of your tee shirt.

“I gotta at least have the cornbread done by the time your parents get here, it would be embarrassing if I didn’t. Plus, I need to get the turkey out of its brine and stuff it.” You anxiously babble, and she leans downs to kiss your neck.

“Chill baby, you have plenty of time I promise, now, you need to relax a little.” B’s hands go around your hips and she lifts you with ease, sitting you on the small amount of free space on the counter.

“I don’t wanna hear it. I’ll clean up, but before you stuff the turkey… you gotta let me stuff you.” She gives you an exaggerated wink at her bad joke. You huff a laugh through your nose and shake your head, clearing a bit of space on either side of you. She leans forward, resting her hands in the newly cleared spaces as she cages you in.

“You’re just so cute in your apron, cooking up for me babygirl.” BG kisses down your jaw and neck, her plush lips feather light against your skin.

“I w..wanted to make a good impression.” You stammer and tilt your body to the side a bit, exposing more of your neck to her. She pulls away, her hands moving to your thighs and rubbing soothingly.

“I told you babygirl, they’re gonna like whoever is makin’ me happy. I promise, baby, my family is gonna love you.” B gives your thighs a supportive squeeze and resumes kissing down your neck. She subtly pulls your hips forward and steps between your thighs.

“B I really should be cooking.” You protest weakly, regretting only cooking in one of BGs big shirts and panties. Your protests are half hearted and she knew it. She pushes your knees up and back, tilting your hips and exposing your wet panties.

“My little babygirl is a liar, but that's ok.I just wanna ease your stress.” BG angles her large stature to support your legs as her nimble fingers tease the side of your underwear.

“Fuck. Ok… ok… hurry before your parents get here.” You give in in a flustered tone and wiggle out of your panties. As you drop them to the floor, B teases a finger through your folds.

“So wet for me” She groans and leans over the counter to kiss you, her finger still teasing and not giving you what you needed.

“Stop teasing, we’re on a time crunch.”

“That’s why I’m teasing babygirl, and ain’t nobody got a key; so nobody gonna see anything. I’m teasing cause you gotta relax mama.” She lifts your leg higher and kisses from your inner thigh all the way to your ankle bone above your slipper, the sudden move eliciting giggles from you.

“Alright, alright please” you whine and wiggle your ankle in her grasp.

“Please what babygirl? Please help you in the kitchen? Please mow the lawn? Please make you cum?” She teases and bites your thigh gently. You squirm on the counter and glare up at her.

“Please make me cum.”

“You know I was being so nice and wanted you to have some stress relief from cookin, but what was that attitude baby? Am I gonna have to get a little more stern?”

You moan and nod

“Please daddy make me cum.” You amend and she lowers your leg, her hand moving up your thigh to tease at your wet pussy again.

“Good girl.” B praises, and pushes one of her long fingers in your core.

“Oh fuck, daddy, yes.” You moan and lean back on your elbows to support yourself, BG leaned over you. She pumps her finger in and out, her thumb finding your clit and circling it lazily.

“You’re so tight baby girl, you can barely take one finger; I’m gonna stretch you out so good later when you cum all over my cock. I guess I gotta start prepping you now baby.” She groans and introduces another thick finger to your core. You whimper at the stretch and sit up a little to grab her.

“I need more of you, daddy, please.” You know there’s no time for the strap right now, but B was perfectly proficient with her fingers. You cling to her, needing to feel more of her strong body.

“Shhh you gotta relax then baby, come on, let daddy into your pretty pussy.” She croons and captures your lips in a brutal kiss. You moan against her in response and your hips jolt as she pushes a second finger in, stretching your tight cunt deliciously. BG grins into the kiss and crooks her finger up, hitting the sensitive spot inside you.

“Oh fuck yes! Please, more like that daddy!” You beg and sag back onto the counter, arms under you for support. B braces herself against the counter and brings her free hand up to cradle your head, letting you rest in her big hand. Her motions don’t stop, moving in c motion, the heal of hand rubbing against your clit as she buries her fingers deep.

“You like that babygirl? Getting stuffed by my fingers?” Her voice was rough with lust, but you saw the smile on her face at her little joke.

“Yes daddy, yes!” You whimper, and your pussy throbs around her thick fingers.

“See now you’re nice and relaxed, that’s what you needed, and now you’re gonna cum for daddy. I wanna feel your tight pussy spasm around my fingers, then you’re gonna stand up and make the rest of our thanksgiving dinner with your cum dripping down your thighs. My good little wife.” BG rambled before bending down to kiss you sloppily. Her fingers move faster; her pace punishing as she thrusts into you.

“Fuck good girl, squirting on my fingers? You’re close.” BG thrusts her fingers up and pushes down on your belly.

“You feel me here babygirl?” She groans. Her finger brushes your cervix and you moan, your orgasm close.

“Need’ta cum daddy please” you beg and grab her shoulder.

“Alright baby,since you’re such a good girl I’m gonna let you cum all over my hand.” B smirks and slows her pace but makes each movement deliberate. Your pussy quivers around her and your breath hitches as you approach your peak. As your pussy spams around her fingers, she groans “that’s right baby, cum all over daddy’s fingers, right now baby.” Her voice is soft but you can hear the demand in it. She grinds her palm against your clit one more time and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you.

“Oh shit B!” You moan.

“Fuck good girl baby” BG praises and kisses you again, her tongue and fingers moving in slow rhythm together.

You tremble and ride and waves of your orgasm, her touch turning gentler to draw it out. She pulls her fingers out and brings them up to your mouth.

“Lick them clean for me.” She commands and stands straighter. You close your mouth around her fingers and swirl your tongue. She pushes her fingers deeper, forcing you to gag on your own release. Tears spring to your eyes and she bent down and kisses them away, finally pulling her finger out slightly. You gasp for air and try to slurp up the spit.

“Mmm did you taste good baby? Clean it all off my fingers.” She commands gently and straightens your rumpled apron lovingly. You lick her fingers clean and press a small kiss on the cross tattooed on her finger. B gives a hum of contentment and pulls her hand away.

“Alright babygirl why don’t we take round two to the bedroom and I can fuck you in nothing but your apron.” She nibbles your earlobe as you try to compose yourself.

“It depends on how much time we have-“ The gate bell sounds and your time is up.

“Fuck and I don’t even have the turkey in the oven.” You groan and slide off the counter.

“It’s ok, you go get dressed baby and I’ll blame myself, trust me, they’ll believe it.” BG rests her chin on the top of your head , helping you untie the apron before she hugs you close.

[limoteethw]

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[stardewremixed]

Thanksgiving headcanon

Alex - the perfect day to toss the gridball around with all his cousins. Wrestling in the leaves. Grass stains. Turkey legs. Crisp fall air. Grandma's famous pumpkin pie.

Abigail - gets up at the crack of dawn to watch the Thanksgiving Day parade. Still is giddy over the floats. Loves the musical renditions. Wishes she could be there in person.

Elliott - a little unusual for Thanksgiving but cranberry sauce and stuffed lobster is his go-to dish. A walk on the beach contemplating what he is thankful for. Bringing apple cobbler to Leah. Don't worry. Willy made it.

Emily - knits socks for everyone she knows with little fall leaves. Makes everyone wear "I am Grateful" tee shirts. Rolls her own dough for apple pie.

Harvey- a hot meal, a day off, a good book, a cup of coffee, plaid house Slippers.

Haley - planning her route for Black Friday shopping. Renting a car so she doesn't have to take the bus. Eww. Leaving Thanksgiving night and staying at a hotel near her mall destination in Zuzu. Checking her list twice to make sure she doesn't forget gifts for anyone.

Claire - a day off from Joja. Sleeps till 1pm. Microwaves some turkey and stuffing. Plops down to watch the dog show.

Olivia - all about presentation. Cornocopia centerpiece. Fall mums on the porch. Perfect magazine masterpiece dinner made by private chef. Candles everywhere.

Magnus - what day is it? A little dazed from staying up late the night before reading ancient tomes. Thankful he isn't invited to Thanksgiving dinner at Marnie's.

Shane - turkey is okay. Chicken? Never! Spends the morning tossing chicken feed, playing tag with Jas, snuggling Charlie.

Leah - a healthy tofurky dinner, fresh cranberry salad, gluten-free rolls, cauliflower rice. Painting on the porch on the crisp autumn afternoon.

Maru - making leaf piles in the yard with sebastian, jumping in them and making a mess, reading a manual about how to operate the oven, taking a plate of hot foods over to Linus.

Lance - traveling again. Enjoys a turkey pot pie at the train station. Thankful for a healthy mind and body. Does a little weight training when he arrives home.

Sam - joins Maru in jumping in leaf piles, games online with Seb until bored, avoids all chores his mom asks him to do, challenging Vincent to a chubby bunny contest with marshmallows and annoys his mom, eats a second dinner at Abigail's because mushroom stuffing isn't his fave.

Penny - strolling JojaMart wondering if she has enough gold to buy ingredients. Wondering why Morris keeps trying to push the green bean special. Manages to make do with what she has on hand at the trailer. Hot turkey sandwiches, instant mashed potatoes, and canned cranberries. Pumpkin cookies were also on sale.

Sebastian - a day of online gaming with friends (getting annoyed at his sister's and Sam's leaf pile mess, laughing and joining the fun), and inevitably writing his Christmas wish list because his mom will be begging for it.

Victor - visiting his bio dad overseas. They don't celebrate Thanksgiving. Running through McD's for a pumpkin shake. Something to remind him of home. He's grateful for the time spent with his father.

Sophia - picking the perfect holiday wine. Making butternut squash soup and cranberry brioche. Spending too much time looking at catalogues, wishing she had more money for presents this year. Doing some house cleaning since she has the time.

[lush-lavenders]

❀Bet {2}❀

JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: The good girl goes on a date with the bad boy and actually enjoys it. So that leads to a few more dates. A few stolen kisses. A few introductions to knew people. The catch? You might realize it sooner than later...

Request: N/A

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all the support you guys gave me on the first part! I did not think it was going to do as well as it did. I got this out a lot sooner than I thought I would.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing

Part 1

!I don’t own this gif!

“I think this is really cute.”

You laughed a little, looking at the sundress. “Of course you’d pick that, Mom.”

She gave you a look. “Tell me it’s ugly and I’ll put it back.” 

“You know I can’t say that.” You smile at her and take the dress. It was a really cute dress, to be honest.

Your smile drops a little and you sigh to yourself. “I don’t know why I’m trying to get all pampered for this.” It wasn’t like you had actually said yes to the date. You just had no choice. Yeah, that’s right.

Your mom watched you for a moment as you played with the fabric of the dress. “Because it’s your first date. Just let yourself have fun.”

“You don’t understand, Mom.” You set the dress down. “This guy’s idea of fun is smoking, drinking, and having sex. Period, end of sentence.”

She nodded, but it didn’t seem like the information was really settling in. “If he’s so out of your line of sight, why don’t you just not go?”

For some reason, that didn’t really occur to you. He seemed so dead set on taking you out, not showing up to the date wasn’t an option.

“There’s some part of you that likes him, Y/N/N. Whether you’ll admit that to Dina or not, you can’t hide it from me.”

She gave you a kiss on the forehead as she picked up the dress and went to go check out.

----

You rubbed your fingers along the case of your phone, flipping it to check the time every minute it seemed.

3:23… 3:24… 3:25…

You were only a couple minutes early. But he still wasn’t here. And you doubt he’d ever show up.

3:26…

It was probably some prank. Him and his friends thought it would be funny to mess with a tipsy Kook.

3:27…

It’s not like you had anything to give him. The Pogues didn’t care too much for what Kooks had, especially when those Kooks can barely get by in life.

3:28…

Pogue and Kook. What stupid terms. Who even came up with those?

3:29…

You felt all the anxiety you tried to fight out come out victorious. This was going to either be a set up, or a stand up. No in between, it was one or the other.

3:30…

You looked down at your sandals as you tried to kick the sand out from between your toes. 

You were overexaggerating. You knew that. Being a minute or two late wasn’t that bad. You’ve been late to important meetings and such. So why were you so upset about this?

“I didn’t think you’d show up.” 

Your head jolted up as you watched the figure of the boy approach you. He was wearing the same stupidly goofy smile as yesterday. His outfit was simple, a grey tank top with shorts, but it looked good on him.

You shrugged a little, holding onto your phone a bit tightly. “I had nothing better to do today.” You tried to cooly answer. You wanted to make up for how he saw you yesterday.

He nodded, just taking the information even though it was clear he didn’t believe it. “Well, I hope you’re wearing a bathing suit, cause we’re heading out on the water.”

“On the water?” You repeated. “Like, on a boat?”

JJ started walking backwards, holding out his hand for you to take. “Yep.”

You were hesitant, but grabbed his hand anyways. By showing up, you agreed to the date. Whether you thought of that or not. The least you could do was go along with what he has planned.

As soon as your hand touched his, he smiled and pulled you along down the beach with him.

Strangely, his hand was soft. Yes, it had a rough undertone to it, but it’s not something you’d notice if you were just shaking it or holding it for a couple seconds. There was no way he could make his hands feel like this in one night for one girl. It had to be something he worked on daily, weekly at the least.

“Say hello to the HMS Pogue.” JJ gently took your senses from your hands back to your eyes.

The boat in question had the words ‘HMS Pogue’ painted on the side of it. It was in fairly decent shape, you made sure to note in your mind.

You glanced at him, noticing he was watching for your reaction to his friends’ prized possession. 

Giving him a smile, you look back at the boat. “She’s really nice.” Usually, you’d just say something like this to get out of the conversation. You couldn’t say anything bad, in case it came back to bite you in the butt. This this, now this was genuine.

The smile he had from before seemed to grow more sincere, though that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but a person who has been watching the teenager for years.

He let go of your hand as he hopped in the boat. Your hand felt weird now, as if you wanted his touch again, even just for a second more.

That want was somewhat fulfilled as he held out his hand to you once again. This time it was to help you on the boat. Which you gladly took.

Now the boat wasn’t huge, but for two people, it was pretty spacious. It looked like it had been recently cleaned to the best of the boy’s ability. But what caught your attention the most was the basket that was down in the middle, a blanket thrown out under it.

You glance at the boy that was driving the boat away from the dock. “A picnic?” You smooth out the back of your dress before sitting yourself down on the blanket and taking off your sandals.

“Is that not a good first date idea?” It was obvious he wasn’t the dating kind of guy. He was used to hooking up, not meeting up. This would be his first real date.

But it was also your first date.

Shrugging, you rub your hand against the softness of the blanket. “I think it’s nice.”

If you were paying attention, you might have seen the smile that cracked onto his face that held more than just the idea of his plan working. If you were paying attention, you might have seen the way he shook off that smile as quick as it came.

“Good, good.” He mutters, nodding. He clears his throat after a while, after you are pretty far out into the water. “I hope you like sandwiches.”

You look over as he sits down on the other side of the basket, opposite of you. “As long as you have turkey.”

Eight sandwiches later, between the two of you, JJ was sitting on the edge of the boat telling stories as you sat in a safer place, listening.

“So, John B actually took the bottle, and it was glued to his hand for the whole day!” 

You smile and shake your head, holding back a laugh. “That’s such a cruel prank. It must’ve hurt to get it off.”

JJ chuckles and kicks his shoes off before standing. “All I know is it was hilarious to watch him try to do the simplest of shit.”

There was a moment of silence between you, giving time for JJ to pull off his shirt out of nowhere.

You quickly redirected your eyes as a blush crept up your neck to your cheeks. “JJ, what are you doing...?”

“What? I told you you better be wearing a bathing suit.” He tossed his shirt over by the empty basket.

Shaking your head, you bring your knees up to your chest. “Well, I’m not.”

“Can’t take no for an answer, sorry.” Without much warning, he jumped down from his spot and picked you up. 

“JJ!” You squealed as he threw you over his shoulder.

He walks up to the edge of the boat. “Last chance; do you wanna take that cute little dress off before I toss you in?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

A furious blush once again covered your cheeks. “I-I am not taking off my dress…”

He shrugs. “Be that way.” Before you could ask him oh so sweetly to not toss you in, he tosses you in.

Another squeal erupts from your throat as your body comes into contact with the cold water. It was an unrefreshing wakeup call for anyone who needed it. 

You gasped for air as you broke the surface. A gasp that took in water from a splash right in front of you. 

“JJ!” You called out again as he resurfaced, laughing his ass off.

He swam over next to you. “Come on, Kookie. Live a little.”

You scoff a little and splash him right in the face. “Not when I just bought this dress earlier today.” You mutter.

He smirked as he got even closer. “‘Bought it earlier today’? As in, just for me?”

You blush yet again and look away. “N-No…”

With one hand he grabs your hips, and the other one places itself on your cheek to make you look at him. “Is Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes lying to me now?”

The tone of his voice made your breath hitch in your throat. The space closing in between the two of you made the hair on the back of your neck stand.

Surely, he wasn’t going to kiss you, right? It was only your first date. Wasn’t that kind of thing left for the end of it? Or maybe even the second? Or third? Definitely not the middle of the first, at least.

But then again, here you were, inches away from your lips touching their first boy. And you weren’t moving away. You weren’t rejecting it. 

It might have been because of the warmth that radiated off him as you both floated in the cold water. It might have been because of the way his touch made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

His lips never moved away, only closer. They didn’t hesitate, when centimeters away, to press themselves to your lips and steal any air that might have occupied your lungs.

His lips, much like his hands, were softer than you imagined. But unlike his hands, there was never a hint of roughness. It didn’t feel like hundreds of other girls have done the same as you; you felt different. Special.

Your lips danced together for what seemed like an hour. His took intricate steps, as your’s tried to follow him to a tee and only slightly tripping over yourself.

When you parted, you felt yourself leaning into him. Any doubts about kissing in the middle of the first date left your mind as you just wanted more.

JJ lightly squeezed your hips, pulling you over with him closer to the boat. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that dress too much.” He says as he slowly lets go of you.

“Yeah, right…” Biting your lip, you try not to make it evident that you craved his touch, if just for a moment more. That the cold water was unbearable without him near.

You said nothing as he climbed out of the water and into the boat. He extended his hand out for you, which you took probably a little too quickly. After he helped you in, you managed to slip on some of the water that dripped from you. You slipped right into him.

He caught you without a problem, laughing a little. “Falling for me already?”

You laughed a little along with him, but didn’t give him an answer or anything like that. “Doesn’t really seem like this was your first date.” You just would change the subject.

Shrugging, he went over to drive the boat back to land. “I’m just full of surprises.”

The rest of the ride was kind of silent. But it wasn’t an awkward silence. At least, after a while it wasn’t. Maybe it was just a little awkward for you.

Once he parked the boat, JJ hopped off, tied it down, and went over to help you get off. He made sure you didn’t slip this time.

You smile at him as you start to walk down the dock. “I actually had a really nice time…”

“What? You thought you weren’t?” He asked, fake offended.

With a shrug, you say, “Well, you’re-”

Before you could finish, JJ’s phone started to ring from in the boat.

“Hold that thought.”

You hadn’t realized the two of you were holding hands until he dropped your’s to run back to the boat and hop inside.

JJ picked up his phone and looked at the name of the caller. He rolled his eyes and answered. “What do you want now?”

“How is everything going?” Gavin’s voice made JJ want to hang up immediately.

He glanced over at you for a split second before looking out over the water and lowering his voice. “Just fine. Goodbye.”

“Wait, wait!” Gavin called out before JJ could put his phone down. “Has she mentioned anything about her friend, or me?”

JJ shook his head. “No. Why the fuck would she?”

There was brief talking in the background. “Just wondering. Your money for this date will be given to you after school Monday.”

“Good.” Once again, JJ’s gaze trailed over to the girl who was standing by the end of the dock. The girl who was soaking wet from head to toe. The girl who bought a new dress just for his date. The girl he went on his first date with.

Without saying anything more, he hung up the phone. He was bound to break your heart, but he didn’t know if he wanted to.

____ ____

Tag List -  @outerbanksbabes ♛ @camillemonty ♛ @http-cherries ♛ @lonely-kermit ♛ @iccyyyybitch ♛ @Bearfacesbitch ♛ @itsagurl ♛

[lovemesomesurveys]

What do you look like? Really thin, brown eyes, pixie cut brown hair, some freckles... 

How often do you bathe? I shower every 2-3 days. How do you wear your hair? Like I said, I have a pixie cut right now so I can’t do anything with it. 

What colours do you tend to wear? I almost always wear black. 

Do you have any tattoos? What, where and why? Nope.

What kind of clothes do you wear? Leggings and graphic tees, lounge shorts and t-shirt dresses around the house.

What kind of jewellery do you wear? None currently, but I’m trying to start wearing some again. I bought some cute stuff recently.

Is there anything else you often wear? All I wear is what I listed. Well, with the addition of sweatshirts and coats since it’s cold.

Would you say you had a “look”? A very casual, chill one.

When going out, do you dress up or down? Just leggings and graphic tees with my Adidas and a hat or beanie.

What do you wear to bed at home? Usually a t-shirt dress.

What do you wear to bed when your somewhere else? Leggings and a shirt.

Is there a place you keep any prized/secret things whilst you’re away? It’s a secret.

What’s your favourite food? Wingstop’s boneless garlic parm and lemon pepper wings, chicken strips, turkey or bolonga sandwiches, pesto pasta, pizza, ramen, eggs, chips and dip. What’s your favourite drink? Coffee, soda, milkshakes, and Starbucks Doubleshot energy drinks.

What’s your favourite dessert? Milkshakes, cheesecake, cookies, cupcakes, brownies, donuts, muffins.

What’s your favourite type of food (e.g Mexican)? American and Italian.

Do you have any mental problems? Yes.

Do you have any phobias? What? Why do you think you have this/them? I do.

Why might somebody dislike you? I might come off kinda standoffish and maybe a little unfriendly just because I keep to myself a lot and I’m not like overly friendly. I’m not super chatty and I’m moody. People might take that as being rude and snobby, but I’m really not trying to be. I’m nice, I just am dealing with a lot physically and mentally and it has made me moody, irritable, miserable, sad, and just... mentally and physically exhausted. It’s changed me in a lot of ways, it’s like I’ve become hardened. I don’t have my same sense of humor anymore either. I don’t know, I just don’t feel like I’m very fun or pleasant to be around anymore. I like spending a lot of time alone doing my own thing.  I don’t have the energy or motivation to put into a friendship or socializing.

What skill do you possess that you are most proud of? I feel like I don’t have any.

What is your greatest strength (e.g. honest, loyal, brave)? I think I’m pretty understanding and open minded.

What’s your greatest shortcoming or flaw (e.g. cowardly, alcoholic)? I have too many of those, a lot I listed already.

Who do you most admire? My mom and brother.

Who do you most love? My family.

What three things do you look for most in a partner? Patience, understanding, caring.

Do you like crowds? Nooo.

What are your hobbies? Reading, surveys, scrolling through my social media feeds, watching YouTube videos, coloring, watching TV.

If you can’t get to sleep in the middle of the night, what do you do? I don’t even go to bed until like 6 or 7AM.

What is your favourite animal? Dogs and giraffes.

What is your favourite colour? Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, mint, coral, yellow.

If you could ask God (to athiests - IF there was one) one question, what? If I could only ask one question I’d want to really think about what I would ask.

Rate yourself on these traits from 0 to 10. 0 - do not possess this trait. 10 - you have great amounts of this trait:

(*** I don’t like rating things, so I’m skipping this***) Calm temper

Charm

Cheerfulness

Confidence

Courtesy

Curiousity

Forgiveness

Generosity

Greed

Helpfulness

Honesty

Loyalty

Optimism

Patience

Self-sacrafice

Wit Background

Where were you born and raised? “In northern California born and raised...”

Briefly describe your family. My mom is a manager at Walgreens, my dad works at a car service place, and my brother works at the HR department as his alma mater (he was a business major, so it’s a perfect fit). We’re very close and enjoy a lot of the same things. They’re also very supportive, loving, and encouraging and I’m blessed to have them. They’re just the best.

You must choose one - your childhood was calm/peaceful or tragic/turbulent? My childhood definitely had its struggles due to health related issues, but honestly that’s not what stands out to me. I loved my childhood and miss it so much. I’m sad I’ll never experience that time again.

Did you have any rolemodels? My mom and grandmother.

What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you? I was a victim of gun violence at just 7 months old that left me paralyzed from the waist down (paraplegic).

How did it affect you? I mean, it changed my life forever in a big way and came with a lot of struggles and obstacles.

Have you ever had any recurring nightmares or themes in nightmares? Yes.

Do you currently have a boyfriend/girlfriend? No.

Do you have any close friends? I don’t have any friends, but I have my family and that’s all I need.

Briefly describe your best friend: She’s hardworking, nurturing, caring, driven, sarcastic, intelligent, funny, well-liked... she’s awesome, everyone loves her. She’s also my mom. (:

Any enemies? No.

Who? What are they like? --

Would you risk your life for your best friend?(not lover or family member!) Well, my best friend is a family member (my mom), so that’s the only answer I have.

With who was your most important romantic relationship? I haven’t had one.

Of what are you most proud? My younger brother.

Of what are you most ashamed? This person I’ve become over the past few years.

Alignment, Ethics and Religion What is your religion? I'm a Christian.

Where do you stand on abortion? I’m not getting into that.

Where do you stand on gay marriage? If you’re two legal, consenting adults that want to get married then go for it.

Where do you stand on the death penalty? Not getting into that.

Where do you stand on wearing fur? I’m not a vegan or vegetarian, but I don’t wear or have anything made of real fur or leather. 

Do you have a moral code that you follow? I mean, yeah?

Could you kill somebody? I automatically go to “no, absolutely not”, but I can’t say there wouldn’t be a self-defense situation where it could come to that. Hopefully never in that position. Even then I truly can’t imagine doing that, but I can’t say no for sure. 

For what reason would you kill somebody? ^^^ And that’s not a for sure answer even in that situation. Let’s just move on from this, please.

Would you SERIOUSLY CONSIDER killing anybody right now? No, jeez.

Do you trust easily, or not? I don’t really have a trust issue, I just have a hard time opening up and expressing myself to people, even those I’m close with. I don’t like talking about my problems and having the attention and focus on me. 

What are your political beliefs (anarchy, communism, democracy etc.)? --

Is there any race/religion you particularly dislike? Why? --

What, if anything, WOULD you sacrifice your life for? Umm.

Would you ever, for any reason, abandon your friends in an hour of need? Unfortunately, I distanced myself and became withdrawn from everyone a few years ago. I honestly pushed them away and ghosted. :/ I feel like the most shittiest person in the world cause they didn’t deserve that, at all, and they’ve reached out several times, but I was falling into such a dark, low place I just couldn’t do it. I began going through a lot and it’s been that way the past few years. I truly felt it was best for them, too, because I wasn’t pleasant to be around and couldn’t be there and be the friend they deserved. They’re better off without me.

Motivation What are your dreams/ambitions/goals? I don’t have any and that’s one of my many problems. I lost my motivation and drive.

How do you plan to reach them? --

How would your ideal partner look? I don’t know, there’s not really one particular type. If I like you, I like you. Do you ever want to have a family someday? With children? I don't want kids.

Who would you want to start this family with, or do you not yet know? --

What would stop you from reaching your goals (e.g. death, retirement fund)? Uh, death would certainly put an end to things. For me, my mental and physical health took control.

What do you see yourself doing next year? I have to take things day by day, hour by hour.

What do you see yourself doing in twenty years? I don’t knowww. That’s a terrifying thought.

Would you ever have an affair? I don’t have a commitment issue. I was loyal to someone who I wasn’t even really dating. 

Would you ever have a one night stand? No.

What are your greatest fears? Death, never getting better/getting worse, never doing anything with my life and just wasting away.... which is how it’s been going. 

More information If you had a month of nothing (no work, no obligations) what would you do? I’ve had a few years of nothing and I haven’t done a damn thing but waste away. My life is just passing me by.

How do you relax? I don’t really, but I try to by watching ASMR, reading, coloring, social media, watching something. The beach is the best thing for that for me, but unfortunately I’m not able to do that often.

What one thing would you change in this world (free Tibet, abolish Sweden)? I’d have to really think about that, there’s a lot...

Would you ever choose a career or job where your life was at risk? No.

Why? I couldn’t do that. I have the utmost respect and gratitude for those who do.

How would you like to be remembered after your death? I’ll be dead, so it doesn’t really matter to me ha.

Random questions Where you present at any major historical events (e.g. 9/11)? No, just alive for some. 9/11 was the biggest thing and now this pandemic of course. I never thought we’d experience something like this. 

How did they affect you? This pandemic has had the biggest effect because it’s affected EVERYONE.

Do you have any famous relatives? Nope.

Do you have to try and live up to your family’s expectations? They don’t put that kind of pressure on me, it’s me who puts that on myself. 

Are you a loyal member of any organizations? No.

General Information Name: Stephanie.

Age: 32.

Date Of Birth: July 28th.

Race: White.

Height: About 5′4.

Weight: I’m not exactly sure, but I think low 70s lbs.

Are you happy with this? Nooo. I’m clearly underweight and too thin.

Desired weight: A healthier one. 

Sexual orientation: Straight.

First language: English.

Second/Third/Fourth etc. languages (if any): None.

Why did you take this survey? It looked interesting and I don’t think I’ve taken it before.

[winchester-purgatory]

Fake marriage, snobby mother and booty calls | Dean Winchester x OC

Summary: Awsten’ sister tells their parents she’s married - she isn’t. Dean accepts to play along when her parents comes to visit for dinner

Word count: 1670

Notes: I wrote this for the Christmas bingo I participated back in December but only now got to finish it

-

Dean Winchester wasn't husband material. He liked old cars, 80s rock music, had a bit of a drinking problem and had been in jail. He hated to wear ties, being more of a flannel kind of guy, and always had oil or grease stained hands from fixing cars.

Her mom was going to hate him.

He was also a bit of a ladies man, but that part didn't need to be mentioned at the Christmas gathering.

''Are you sure this is a good idea?’’

''You gotta be there,'' Awsten insisted, looking at Dean over the island countertop where they were having breakfast. ''My sister already told everyone I was married. I would be the family’s laughingstock if I they show up for dinner and there is no man in my apartment after such a big news.''

''I still don't get why you couldn't tell them it was a misunderstanding. Why make things complicated when they were initially simple?''

''Because they're from another generation and won't understand. They won't find it funny that we played the 'just married' card to get free alcohol. Or that we only hook up on the daily.'' The redhead sighed, taking a sip of her hot coffee. ''If Charlie hadn't tagged us on social media, my sister would've never seen the picture and caption...''

Dean reached out, squeezing Awsten’s bare thigh on the bar stool, and looked at her with apologetic eyes. ''Charlie’s really sorry. She didn’t think the picture would get to your family.''

''I know. It’s okay. I made my peace with it. Now, we just have to play pretend.'' She stood, taking her empty plate and putting it in the sink to wash later.

Today was going to be a long day and Awsten was dreading all of it. Having her parents and sister over for Christmas wasn’t part of her December plans. For the last two years, she had escaped the family reunions and had intended to do it again this year. She didn't hate her family, they were just so strict, judgemental and draining to be around.

She'd rather rent a cabin in the mountains with a couple friends - Charlie and Dean included. At least, that promised a lot of fun.

Dean joined her by the sink, doing the same with his dishes.

''Thank you for doing this, Dean.''

As insane as the situation was, Awsten was glad to have someone like Dean. Not everyone would have agreed to partake in her crazy plan and play married couple for the holidays, even for one night. And, he will definitely add some spice to her family's Christmas dinner.

''It was my idea in the first place to get the alcohol. And, I wasn’t going to say no to free turkey.''

Awsten scoffed. ''The turkey might be free, but you are helping me. I’m not gonna do all the hard work by myself, Winchester.''

''I would try to eclipse myself, but since you did most of the work last night, I guess I could help you for today,'' he said as he slid a hand under Awsten's tee shirt to cup one of her cheeks and gave it a small squeeze.

.

After six hours of chopping, whisking and seasoning, the faux-married couple were finally ready to receive Awsten’s family.

The redhead has put a red tablecloth to mask the chips on the wooden table, something that would've definitely not gone unnoticed by her mother, and pulled out the pretty candle set she had received three Christmases ago to decorate the center.

Dean lit up the Christmas tree filled with miscandellous, non-traditional ornaments and hoped no one would point out the missing Christmas crib under the tree. It was somewhere in the storage closet and Awsten didn't feel like fetching it.

As they were setting the table, Dean caught the silver ring on the redhead’s finger. ''Just so you know, I would've never offered you this cheap ass looking ring. My wife deserves something better than a plastic rock.''

Awsten narrowed her eyes. ''I did with what I had and with the time I had, Dean! I couldn't get myself a real wedding ring. Diamonds are hella expensive.''

''You didn’t even get me one.''

''I forgot. But, knowing my family, they won't even notice. They'll be too occupied looking elsewhere,'' she promised.

''You mean my charming smile?''

She glanced at his flannel and stubbles, both red flags in her mother's book. ''Among others.''

It was around six o’clock when the doorbell rang. Awsten smoothed her velvet dress and checked her lipstick in the hallway mirror before opening the door.

''How can you get married and not tell us? I didn't raise you like this,'' her mom asked, skipping the greetings and walking in like it was her own place.

Awsten contained herself, forcing a smile. ''Hello to you too, Mom…''

Richard and Emilie, Awsten’s dad and sister, followed inside, shutting the door behind. They shed peeled off their winter layers and hung them on the overflowing coat hanger.

The elder woman peered into the apartment, looking for the handsome man her daughter had married. ''Now, where is that husband of yours? We didn't make all that travel for nothing.''

''I’m right here, Mrs. Torres,'' Dean replied, coming to the entrance to greet the guests. He kissed both her mom and sister’s cheeks and shook hands with Richard, his politeness surprising the Torres.

Although he had succeeded to impress her with his politeness, Dean didn't earn Cecelia's approval. She gave him an up and down look, disapproval casting itself on her face almost immediately.

''Shall we move to the kitchen? Dinner is ready.''

.

''What's your career, Dean?'' Cecelia asked, attacking him with questions as soon as they sat down around the table.

The redhead gave her mother a dirty look, knowing exactly what she was doing. To most, it looked like Cecelia was being nice and trying to get to know Dean, but she was being a snake and trying to find valid reasons to not like Dean to back herself with when she’ll later confront Awsten.

Dean swallowed his bite before responding. ‘’I'm a mecanicien, ma'am. I work at my uncle's auto-shop.''

''Ah.'' She glanced at her cadet daughter and back to Dean, disapproval in her eyes. ''Are you planning on taking over the business?''

''I love cars, but owning an auto-shop isn’t in my plans for the future.''

''What is, then?''

''Owning a bar. Commercializing my own beer...or whiskey, perhaps. Something along those lines.''

''I assume you are studying business?'' Mr. Torres asked, suddenly taking interest in the conversation, owning himself a business.

Dean shook his head. ''No. I’m not in college, Sir. College isn’t for me.''

''How did you meet?''

''Was it like the movies? Your car broke and he repaired it?'' Emilie asked with a snicker, making fun of her sister.

Awsten glared at her. ''No. We met through Charlie, my roommate. You remember her? She and Dean are long date friends.''

As the dinner progressed, Cecelia’s disdain toward Dean was getting more and more apparent - and she made little efforts to hide her feelings.

''If you'll excuse us, I need a drink. Awsten, darling, will you come help me in the kitchen?'' She flashed Dean a forced, bitter smile and stood, heading to the kitchen for some privacy.

.

''You don't like him.'' taking a glass out of the cabinet to

''With reasons! Have you seen this guy? I don't know what you find in him. He looks like...a lumberjack. You are worth so much more than him, Awsten. Guys like him don't go far in life,'' she said in true Cecelia Torres fashion, always quick to judge others.

''Well, we're already married, Mom. What can you do?''

''Is this why you got married in secret? Because you knew we wouldn't approve.''

An unsurprised laugh left the redhead's lips. ''Of course you would think that… Yes, Mom, I married a guy solely to spite you.'' Awsten poured the strong alcohol in the glass, the amber liquid gliding over the baby Yoda shaped ice cubes. ''Is it so difficult for you to believe that I love Dean? Just because I was raised in high society doesn't mean I wish to follow that kind of life.''

Cecelia huffed. ''You say that now, but you'll change your mind.''

''I doubt it.''

''Did he...force you into this? Marrying him.''

Awsten's eyes widened. She couldn't believe the words that left her mother's mouth. ''I'm leaving. You're being crazy.'' She took the drink she had prepared for her mother and left the kitchen, needing it.

''What about my drink?''

.

''Congratulation, Mom hates you. You’re everything she didn’t want for me.''

''Aw, damn,'' Dean said with sarcasm, helping Awsten clean up. ''I thought I had made a good impression.''

The redhead bit back a smile. ''I’m sorry for how she behaved toward you. For the way she talked about you. She’s insufferable sometimes.''

Dean shook his head. ''Don't apologize for her. I don't care what she says about me.'' He brought the leftovers to the fridge, trying to control his grin at the thought of stealing a tupperware of turkey for his lunch tomorrow. ''And it's not like we really are married - not that I'd care more then.''

''Now you get why I never visit my family. They're all similar variants of my mother.''

''They say family wants the best for you, but it's not always the case. I've stopped caring about others' opinion of me long ago. I can take a snobby mother who believes I forced her daughter into marrying me.''

Awsten stopped washing the plate, her stomach dropping. ''Oh no... You heard that?''

Out of all the disgusting things her mother had said tonight, this took the crown. Awsten had hoped Dean hadn't heard, but the kitchen wasn't very soundproof.

She opened her mouth to apologize once again, but Dean beat her.

''Don't say it.'' He turned around to face the redhead, eyes soft on her. ''She can assume whatever she want of me, but I'm still your main booty call,'' Dean added with a smirk.

''Dean!'' She hit his shoulder at his crude words, holding back a smile.

He shrugged and continued what he was doing.

[cycat4077]

Sleeping Arrangements

Part 3 in the Changes verse, though it’s not necessary to read the other parts beforehand. (Part 1 | Part 2) AO3 here (Takes place Christmas 2015, right after 17x10 “Catfishing Teacher”)

Pairing: Sonny x Reader  Warnings: none (hopefully just some wholesome fluff) Words: 1858 Summary: Prior to this trip, sleeping arrangements weren't something you'd given much thought. You had been too preoccupied with pre-holiday grading, remembering the presents and packing the bags. But now, the situation poses a bit of a conundrum: one new family member and no extra beds. 

"So, my mom is a lot like yours. She'll probably smother you in love and food," you warn as the wintery highway passes by. 

"I don't mind that," answers Sonny from the driver's seat. Snowflakes collect and melt on the windshield, dispersing the morning light that shines through them. It's Christmas day and the two of you left NYC early to be able to make it upstate in due time.

"My dad on the other hand," you continue, "may look intimidating, but he's actually a big softy. Cries at chick-flicks all the time. Just don't tell him I told you that!" Sonny lets out a warm chuckle. "Noted!" Ever since you spent Thanksgiving with the Carisis, you've been excited to bring Sonny home to meet your parents. Not only that, but he also just finished a really tough case, so you hope that getting away from work and having a hardy family meal would do him good. "You're not nervous, are you?" you ask hesitantly, recalling how anxious you had been on the drive to Staten Island. "I mean, yeah, but not really. If your folks are anything like you, then I'm guaranteed to be just fine." Sonny smiles reassuringly before shifting his eyes back to the snowy roads. -x- "MY BABY!" exclaims your mother as you kick off your boots and step inside the house. You fold your arms around each other and hug. It has been too long since you’ve seen one another in person. "And you must be Sonny," she adds, waving over your boyfriend. "It's a pleasure, Mrs. -" but before Sonny has a chance to finish, your mom wraps her arms around him. A low oof escapes his mouth as she squeezes. Yep, Sonny has officially been adopted into the family. "I've heard so much about you, so it's wonderful to finally meet you!" Your mother is absolutely bursting with joy. "Likewise," replies Sonny, flashing one of his infamous smiles. In the meantime, you give your dad a giant hug, glad to see him too. Then it’s time for introductions. At first your father seems to be sizing up your boyfriend, hardened eyes scanning him over skeptically. Sonny extends his hand, offering a polite "Nice to meet you, sir" but your father hesitates. C’mon dad, you think, flashing him a stern look. Thankfully he accepts Sonny's gesture with a firm handshake. "My daughter goes on and on about you and how happy she is," he declares and finally allows a smile. A breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding in escapes, puffing out your cheeks. Always attentive, Sonny senses your unease and casts you a loving look, stepping over to slip you under his arm. After presents and overnight bags are unpacked from the car, the four of you sit down for an early supper. The dining room table is overrun by casserole dishes filled with turkey, dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes and baked carrots; everything that traditionally composes a holiday meal in your household. Once bellies are plump and full, you all sit around the Christmas tree. Growing up, family Christmas trees were always real spruce and were adorned with old ornaments that had sentimental rather than aesthetic value. And like all Christmases before, this year’s tree gives the living room a wonderful smell, while shiny bulbs twinkle from the colored lights that hang on its branches. With everyone gathered together, you swap presents. You had debated endlessly with yourself over what to get Sonny. The two of you were only together for about two months. Was that too soon to be buying expensive or sentimental gifts? Or, since we’re so committed to one another, would it be expected? Instead, you listened to your gut and bought something that you sincerely hoped would make Sonny smile. "What is it, doll?" asks Sonny while tearing at the wrapping paper. The man has the patience of a five-year old. You don't answer, but rather just watch while he takes the gift out of the box. "It's a…" Sonny's face softens and he runs his fingers over the material, "a briefcase." "For when you get that degree and become a lawyer," you elaborate timidly. The item set you back a pretty penny but it was crafted from soft, brown leather and resembled the old style of briefcases from the 50's. You wished that this gift would show Sonny just how much you believe in him. At first he's silent. He simply looks at you with an unreadable expression. He doesn't like it. It's too soon for a gift like this. But then Sonny unleashes a smile so wide that his eyes crinkle at the corners. Your tummy somersaults. "I love it!" Sonny leans over and pulls you into an embrace. You flush with warmth and nuzzle your nose into the soft juncture of his neck. In fact, you're so caught up in the moment that you forget your parents are sitting one sofa over until a quiet 'aww' resonates from your mother. You pull apart to see a pair of baby blues shining with appreciation. Sonny then gets up, sock feet padding towards his coat by the door. He reaches into the pocket, pulls something out and quickly returns to his place beside you. He extends his arm, presenting a small box with intricate wrapping. Your breath catches in your throat. It's jewelry. Sonny studies you with nervous excitement, coaxing you to open it. When you do, the velvety box reveals a silver pendant on a matching chain. You touch the cool metal delicately with your finger, tracing the outline of an apple. "Yourra teacher," Sonny remarks, his tone turning somewhat shy. "And when you like a teacher, you're supposed ta give 'em an apple." You feel tears forming in your eyes as his sentiments soak in. "It's beautiful, Sonny." And you mean those words from the bottom of your heart. It's perfect. He's perfect. You ask him for help to put it on, moving your hair out of the way. His fingertips tenderly graze along the back of your neck, sending goosebumps across your skin. When the clasp is secured, you release your hair and gently adjust the pendant to the middle of your chest. It means so much and you vow to wear it everyday. The gift exchange continues a little while longer; your parents even make sure that Sonny has presents under the tree from them. Your mother all the while brings out various baked deserts, continually offering Sonny more food even though his response never wavers from a lighthearted "I'm stuffed". There's laughter and stories to go around as afternoon shifts into evening. You share your experiences with Sonny from the past summer and your parents recite snippets from your childhood. Of course, they also provide Sonny with a teasing warning about how nerdy you can be, making you cringe out of embarrassment. Sonny, like the gentleman he is, laughs them all off and reveals a few of his own quirks to even the score. As the night winds down and eyelids grow heavy, there's a collective decision to turn in. Prior to this trip, sleeping arrangements weren't something you'd given much thought. You had been too preoccupied with pre-holiday grading, remembering the presents and packing the bags. But now, the situation poses a bit of a conundrum: one new family member and no extra beds. Right away Sonny offers to sleep on the couch. Being that your relationship is still quite new, the two of you have never done the whole sleeping over thing yet. Though uncharted territory, it seems unfair to make Sonny sleep on a lumpy sofa when he'd be driving home the next day. "No, it's okay," you announce, eyes darting between your parents and Sonny. "You can share my bed." Your father opens his mouth to protest, but your mother swiftly hits his arm to shut him up. Instead, she hands Sonny the extra pillows in her arms. "You sure, doll?" Sonny questions, blue eyes seeking yours for confirmation. "Yeah, we've got a long drive back tomorrow. Need a good night's rest." You smile and rest your hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Sonny would never get fresh with you unless you both were ready. Besides, it would be nice to finally make the dream of falling asleep in his arms a reality… "Goodnight then, you two," your mother coos. "If you need anything let us know." You give both parents a hug before retreating into your childhood bedroom. "I'd never try anything. You know that, right?" Sonny blurts as he helps turn down the sheets. You stop and look at him. "Of course I know that," you reassure. "I trust you and in no way feel pressured. Hope you feel the same." "I do! I was justa little surprised that you'd offer to share a bed, especially under your folks' roof." He fluffs the pillow and strips off his shirt.

You can't help but stare at his bare chest. That's another first and boy, is it a good one. Sonny's not the type who has rippling muscles or bulging pecs. Instead, he's lean and toned in just the right places, which, if you're being honest, is way sexier. Sonny then pulls a different tee over his head, dragging you back to reality. "My parents have always trusted me," you resume. "All my decisions are my own and they'd never judge me for sharing a bed with my boyfriend. That's the kind of relationship we've always had." "It's nice," Sonny says simply before crawling under the covers. "My parents weren't quite so trusting." He shrugs. "...But then again we were a strict Catholic household." He pats the mattress beside him and you slip in. "Oohh! Your feet are like ice!" he trills. You quickly pull your toes away. "Sorry." "Nuh-no, doll! Lemme warm 'em up," Sonny grins and reaches for your feet with his own. His warmth provides immediate relief. "That better?" he asks. "Much," you reply. "Good." He switches off the bedside lamp and snuggles down under the blankets. "'Night." "'Night," you say. A silence hangs in the darkness for a few moments. "Sonny?" you whisper. "Yeah?" "Would you...uh...Would you...Do you wanna..." you stutter out, but it seems he already understands. An arm snakes around your shoulders pulling you near. "That okay?" he asks. But rather than answer, you turn your face towards him and place a kiss to his lips. It's warm and soft and tender; unspoken gratitude for the wonderful day you've spent with him. Sonny, responds by kissing you back with a soft hum of pleasure. "I'll take that as a ‘yes’," he smirks against your lips. "Merry Christmas, Sonny." "Merry Christmas," he kisses your forehead and you cuddle into his chest. His arms hold you close as you both fall asleep. You had always dreamed of how it would feel to be nestled up with Sonny like this, and though you never expected the first cuddle to be in your childhood bed, it was still better than you could have ever imagined. It felt right. Sonny felt like home.

---

I SHALL WRITE ABOUT ALL THE HOLIDAYS! (feeback loved and thanks for making it to the end ♥ )

Part 4 here

[muchadoaboutbucky]

Love Thy Neighbor - 1

Set post-Endgame: Bucky’s got a crush on the girl next door. 

PAIRING: Bucky x Native American!Reader WARNINGS: slow burn, minor anxieties, eventual smut

read the rest of this series on patreon

“Hey, we got a mission.”

Bucky jerks awake, shoving his hair out of his face. His eyes are heavy with sleep, and the sun’s shining heavy through the thin curtains. Alpine, disturbed by her master’s movements, shoots Sam a glare and curls back up on her pillow, tail curling around her feet. 

“What time is it?” Bucky asks blearily.

“Almost nine, you missed your run.” Sam snaps his fingers. “C’mon. Fury wants us to report in ten.”

Bucky grumbles, fighting the urge to burrow back beneath his comforter and fall back asleep. He’d had a hard time falling asleep, eventually drifting off after downing several extra-strong tablets of melatonin that are still trying to work their magic.

He stumbles out of bed, reaching down to graze his metal palm over Alpine’s sleek white fur. The cat purrs lowly and rubs her head against his fingers, and then resumes her nap. In the bathroom, he runs his toothbrush through his mouth with closed eyes and splashes cold water on his face. He doesn’t bother putting on street clothes; he’ll only have to change when they leave the house and his sweats are more comfortable than they need to be.

They get assigned to Paris. A black-market arms dealer is set to sell a truckload of guns and ammunition to a suspected terrorist cell, and with less than two days on the clock until the deal is set to go down, they have to hurry. Luckily, Bucky keeps an emergency go-bag under his bed, and he’s just stepped into his boots when he spies Alpine still snoozing.

Someone needs to keep an eye on her.

“I gotta find someone to watch Alpine,” he says while Sam’s lacing his sneakers in the living room. 

“What?” Sam cranes his neck to look up into Bucky’s anxious face. “C’mon, man, she’s a cat. She’ll be fine for a couple days.”

“What if it’s longer than a couple days?” Bucky swallows. “Someone needs to put her food out and change her water.”

“We’ll be back by Thursday.” Sam stands, arms folding across his chest. He only holds firm for a few seconds, until Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Okay…” he gives in, “ask Y/N. Since you didn’t see her this morning, might as well make up for it.”

Bucky’s cheeks go red. He looks down at the floor as Sam passes him on his way to the hallway closet. “I didn’t… she doesn’t—”

“Dude, stop pretending you don’t have one of the biggest crushes of all time, it’s painful.”

Bucky’s gut twists as he pulls his spare key to the apartment from the front pocket of his duffel bag. “I just… she’s nice, that’s all. Not a lotta people look at the guy who used to be the Winter Soldier and think good things, y’know.”

“You got exonerated in a court of law, nobody in their right mind thinks you’re guilty of anything.” Sam heads into the kitchen to grab a protein shake for the jet ride. “Especially Y/N.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “I’ll… I’ll be right back, I’ll see if she’s home.”

He drops his bag on the couch and heads out the door. It’s a brisk morning, and he zips his jacket up, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walks to the next door down. His heart is pounding in his chest, because he knows you have a security camera and he doesn’t wanna look like a creep knocking on your door when you’re not home. 

Within seconds, however, your door swings open. You’re wearing a baggy AC/DC tee shirt and a pair of leggings… the ends of your hair are wet. You must have just showered. 

“Hi, Bucky,” you chirp, flashing him a brilliant smile that makes his knees weak. “I missed you in the park this morning.”

He swallows the sudden dryness in his throat. “Overslept,” he excuses. “Look, I… I hate to put this on you, but my friend and I got called out for a job and we… or I need someone to…”

God it sounds stupid. So, so stupid… he’s a grown man with a cat, what the hell is he doing?

You lean against the doorjamb. “What is it?”

“I was wondering if you could watch Alpine for a few days,” he blurts out. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“I can do that.” You smile again, and Bucky’s stomach untwists. “When will you be back?”

“Thursday…” Bucky tries as best he can to muster a confident smile as he holds the key out in his flesh palm. “She just takes dry food, her bag is under the kitchen sink.” Bucky’s breath hitches when your fingers graze his skin. “So… I’ll leave a list, I guess…”

“Or you could text me?” You tug your phone from the pocket in your leggings. “What’s your number?”

He can barely speak. He’s been dying to ask for your number for weeks now and here you are just brazenly offering it up. He takes a solid three seconds to remember the digits, and he rattles them off, watching as you type his name into the little section and add one of those little emoticon things… the sun.

“I just sent you something,” you smile, “so you got mine too.”

Bucky almost pukes. “Okay,” he stutters out, “she’s got food and stuff for now, but just later today…”

“Got it.” You slip your phone back into your pocket. “I gotta get ready for work, but I’m off at six. I’ll pop by and feed her.”

“Thanks.” He swallows thickly. “Really, thank you, it means a lot.”

“It’s no problem.” You swipe your tongue over your lower lip. “Have a safe mission, okay?”

He bows his head, trying as hard as he can to stop from blushing. “I will. Thanks again.”

You close the door, and he turns on his heel, hiding a grin in his coat collar as he heads back to his own apartment.

***

The mission goes easier than either of them thought it would. They’re in and out of Paris in less than forty hours, and they take the opportunity of their “undercover-ness” to scout out a few local shops in search of something good to eat and a few souvenirs for their efforts. 

Bucky doesn’t shop for himself beyond food. He has no need for little trinkets. Sam can browse all he wants, but Bucky tries to think of something that you might like. One shop has it all: a ton of Eiffel Tower ornaments, candies, T-shirts… at one point he catches himself sniffing tentatively at a lavender-scented soap bar.

No, no way. Way too personal. 

In the end, he settles for a little snowglobe. It’s small enough to fit in his bag, and he makes his purchase while Sam’s still trying on sweatshirts.

They get in late on Thursday night, just as Sam predicted. Bucky sends you a text when they land at the airport, and the Avengers’ private car has them back at the complex in no time at all. The light is on in your apartment when Bucky gets to the fourth floor, and as soon as Sam’s vanished into their apartment, he knocks on your door. It only takes a few seconds to answer, and Bucky’s heart catches in his throat when you open the door, beaming up into his face.

“You’re back early,” you say, smiling widely. 

“Yeah, uh… mission went quicker than we thought.” Bucky swallows heavily. 

“I just filled Alpine’s bowl an hour ago and cleaned out her litter box,” you reply, almost completely unfazed by his awkwardness, “and I bought her a little catnip plant from work, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Oh, you, uh... “ he clears his throat, “you didn’t have to do that, the litter box, I mean, I—”

“It’s no bother, my mom was a veterinarian, I’ve dealt with way worse.” You fumble for something on the little table behind your left knee and hold up the little bronze key. “You might need this back.”

“Thanks.” Bucky pockets it without really thinking—the touch of your hand on his matters more. “Oh, I got something for you,” he blurts out, unzipping the top pocket of his bag and fishes out the little snowglobe. “Just as… well, a thanks.”

You accept the little trinket, blushing furiously. “I love it,” you reply, “thank you.”

God, Bucky wants to kiss you so bad…

“D’you wanna get coffee?” he asks suddenly. “Or see a movie? That is, if you don’t y’know, have someone already, I don’t wanna intrude.”

If possible, your face flushes even more. “I-I’d like that,” you stammer, “a movie sounds good. Um… when are you free?”

“Saturday?” Bucky shrugs. “The place downtown has cheap tickets on Saturdays.”

You nod. “I… I can do that. I get off work at six again.”

Bucky chews on his lower lip. “I’ll come by for eight?”

“That works.” You smile awkwardly. “I, uh… I should probably let you go get some rest, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bucky takes a step back because if he doesn’t make some space he might just kiss you right then and there. “I can text you, yeah?”

“Totally, yeah.” You run your fingers through your hair and match him, stepping back into the little entryway. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you Saturday, then?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

You close the door, still blushing furiously, and Bucky walks into his apartment thinking of a million ways that could have gone wrong. 

“I bet you were smoother than that in ‘43.”

Sam’s standing in the kitchen, smirking as Bucky drops his bag by the door and kicks his boots off.

“Shut up, I’m outta practice.” He shrugs his jacket off and hangs it on the rack. “Did you really hear all that?”

“We’re neighbors, I can hear everything.” Sam grins and pulls fixings for a turkey sandwich from the fridge. “Look, man, you’re trying to fit in. It’s a good thing.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “I didn’t even know if she was gonna say yes.”

“Well, she did.” Sam slaps the top layer of bread onto his sandwich and gestures to the plate. “Want one?”

Bucky shakes his head. “If I eat, I’m gonna puke. I’m just gonna go to bed.”

Sam watches him shuffle silently down the hallway and into his room. Alpine’s snoozing on her bed by the window, and she leaps off when Bucky closes the door, eagerly wristing around his ankles and purring happily. 

“Hey, girl.” Bucky reaches down to rub his knuckles against the top of her head before changing into a pair of flannel pants. He’s exhausted and stressed, and his chest feels tighter than it should. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rests his head in his palms, taking long, deep breaths to try and ease the tension. Sensing her master’s distress, Alpine rubs herself against his side, and Bucky only breaks his position to give her a habitual pet across the back before slipping into his bathroom and downing five tablets of melatonin. His system will kick it in within a few minutes, and he slips beneath the covers as Alpine curls up on her designated pillow.

“Everything’s gonna go smooth, right?” he asks. “I can do this. It’s just a girl, nothing to be scared of.”

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[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (5/?)

AO3

Janis will always remember this morning.

The sun is just about up as she stands in her bedroom, fighting for dominance with grey clouds that promise a shower later on. Across the city, kids are groaning and pressing the snooze buttons, getting dressed and brushing their teeth, packing their bags and making sure they have everything for the day ahead. Janis is doing the almost same thing, but instead of packing for school, she’s squashing as much as she can into her bag, trying to take as much of home with her as she possibly can. They’re all headed off to school and will see their homes again tonight, she won’t see this bedroom for another two weeks.

Her teeth dig into her lip and she pushes another sweater into the bag. It’s a little like going on vacation; she has no idea what’s enough pairs of underwear and if she’ll need a sweater and if she really needs this t-shirt she hasn’t worn in two years. Maybe if she pretends it’s a vacation she can get through it.

She picks up the small stuffed kitten that lay across her pillows. He’s been her constant companion since she was five, accompanying her to sleepovers and overnight field trips and Girl Scout retreats. Wherever she slept, he slept. Which is why she doesn’t hesitate in putting him in her bag. She drops a little kiss to his forehead before she packs him, though, and decides to put him in the side of her backpack instead. To let him look out at everything. And so she can grab him if she needs him.

She hasn’t eaten anything. Her stomach has twisted itself into knots and tied those knots together and folded in on itself. She picked at oatmeal downstairs but despite her parents insistence, she couldn’t eat any of it. Her dad had reminded her that she’d need her strength for the day ahead and Janis had stifled a laugh. She doesn’t feel strong at all right now and doubts oatmeal could help. Her parents had only allowed her to go upstairs to finish packing when she agreed to take her breakfast with her.

To kill time, and to avoid the cold oatmeal glaring at her from her nightstand, she looks through the open drawers, trying to find something to add to the mass in her bag. Her doctor had advised her to pack what she’d be most comfortable in. He of course meant PJs and sweatpants and stuff Janis can lounge in during her treatment, but the two of them seem to have different versions of ‘comfortable’. For Janis, comfort means being happy with herself, and what she wears is sort of like a manifestation of her own soul. After all, it did take longer than she thought to find out what she likes wearing. So in that vein, her bag is filled with fishnet tights and graphic tees and shorts and denim skirts. And a few pairs of leggings, just to keep her mom happy.

As she looks through the drawers and tries to block out her parents’ muffled conversations, she pulls out a hoodie that’s far too big to be hers. She pulls it out, falling back against her bed as she does so. She knows who owns it before she opens it up, and her breath catches in her throat. It’s Damian’s; originally plain white but she had tie-dyed it for him and sewn little a little rainbow under the hood as a birthday present last year. He must have left it here and a while ago and she had always intended to give it back. But now…

She holds it against her body, burying her face in the soft fabric inside the hood. She knows how it sounds, but having this sweater is the next best thing to having Damian with her. It feels like him, his big teddy bear body pulling her into a hug that lasts for ages, making her feel more safe than she does anywhere else.

Hopefully, he’ll understand.

“Janis?” She jumps a bit before turning around, her dad having caught her off guard. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, his shoulders hunched over and his hips moving back and forth like someone is pulling strings on both sides. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she replies, thankful that her eyes are dry. She pushes herself up and heads to the bed, wringing the sweater in her hands. “Just went to get this.” She manages to squish it into the bag and zip it up, catching on clothes along the way. Her dad does offer to help but she shakes him off and manages to get the thing closed, even if it is straining and reminds her vaguely of an overstuffed Christmas turkey.

“That’s everything,” she says. “Right?”

“Is it? You got the essentials?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Um, underwear, PJs, clothes, laptop, notebook, pencils, chargers, phone, toothbrush, hairbrush…” She rattles them off on her fingers, the monotony of it somehow calming her.

“I see your little kitty’s coming too,” her dad points out, tapping under the toy’s chin. “Didn’t want to miss out, did he?” Janis chuckles at that. Despite her having grown out of that phase, her dad has kept on treating Purrlock like he’s real. She loves him for that.

“He said two weeks without me was too long,” she replies. Two weeks of sleeping in a different bed and eating food that wasn’t cooked in their kitchen, not seeing her friends and instead getting medicines pumped into her body because her body is being wrecked from the inside.

She comes back to herself just in time to see her hand reaching to grab Purrlock out of her bag.

“Hey.” Her dad takes the toy and gently presses it into her hand, his free hand rubbing up and down her arm. She can’t be imagining him trembling. Even so, she rests her head on his shoulder and lets him hold her tight. They stand in silence for a while before her dad whispers “Come on, it’s time to go,” in her ear. He has to pull her out of her room and takes both her bags with him. In the back of her mind, she wishes she could help, but she feels a little like her brain is on standby.

Her mom is already waiting in the car, her own bag packed. Her parents agreed that her mom would stay in the hospital with Janis while her dad stays at work, promising to visit her every night. ‘They’re going to have to extend visiting hours just for me’ he had promised. She slides into the backseat and places her backpack on her lap for something to hold on to.

“Everybody say ‘bye bye house’,” she says. It’s barely a joke, just something her parents liked to say when they would go on road trips when she was little, but it gets a laugh out of both of them.

As the car pulls out of the drive, she gives a minute wave goodbye to her house. Suddenly two weeks seems a lot longer than it had.

                                                                                               *****

Janis will never understand how people who work in hospitals are so damn cheerful. The receptionist who greets them, the nurses who guide her to her new room and give her a medical bracelet, they all have such a peppy, wholesome demeanour that makes them feel unsuited for the job they have. Like they should be on the side-lines of a football game instead,

Her room is identical to the other ones they passed; pale blue walls and a large window, in her case overlooking the parking lot, and a bathroom attached. Little Janis is jumping up and down with glee. She always wanted an en suite. Then there’s the bed, the one thing she doesn’t want to look at. With its sturdy grey frame and spotless, perfectly made white sheets it looks even more impersonal than the rest of the room. The worst part by far is the white bar above it which has outlets and hooks along it. All to house her various medicines and drugs.

Ward 3, Room 21. Her new home.

“Okay, let’s get you settled in,” the nurse begins. She did introduce herself, something beginning with an L, but it didn’t stick. “And then Doctor Wiley will be down to see you in a few minutes.” Again, the all-too-happy manners feel more like they belong in a hotel lobby. Like she’s just gone on vacation for a week. So, as though she’s on vacation, she wanders over and sits on the mattress, pushing herself up and down.

“Not very bouncy,” she concludes.

“I’ll put in a complaint with the manager,” her dad replies and she laughs, really laughs.

“You’re such a Karen,” she chuckles. “Not my Karen. Just you know… the species Karen.”

“I’ll get a bob and amber highlights,” he goes on and she leans back on the bed, still laughing. “Start ordering ice Frappuccino’s at Starbucks. Those are what Karens drink, right?”

“No, that’s what Regina George drinks,” her mom corrects him. “A Karen would have a latte, skim milk, no cream, half a pack of sweetener and then bring her own organic chocolate.” Janis’ cheeks almost hurt from smiling and laughing, but it fades almost instantly when she sees the doctor appearing behind them, the same one they spoke to before. Doctor Wiley, she assumes, but she’ll almost always be calling him Mr Doctor Man in the future.

Her parents take notice of him and in one motion, move away from the door and next to her, flanking her on either side.

“Well, I wish I was seeing you under different circumstances, Janis,” he says, a grim edge to his voice.

“The feeling’s mutual,” she replies. The corners of his mouth turn up at that. For her, the air turns chilly and she pulls her cardigan tighter around her.

“First thing’s first, we’re going to take a little blood test-”

“I already did one,” she interrupts. “Isn’t that the whole reason I’m here?”

“Well, yes, but this is a different one,” he explains. “That was to determine the type of cancer you have; this will be so we know how best to administer the chemo. We’ll also need to do a quick physical exam, check your height, weight, breathing, all so we know how to tailor your treatment to you.”

“Treatment that’s personally tailored to me,” she says. “What a dream.” Mr Doctor nods, a knowing smirk on his face that lifts Janis’ head. They lock eyes for a fraction of a second before he looks at her parents, as though he knows something they don’t.

“She’s going to be a fighter, I can tell,” he says. At that, her dad squeezes her hand and for a second, she wonders if she might actually make it through this.

Doctor Man’s comment and her parents’ pride both give her the strength to make it through the physical exam at least. It’s all quick and easy, even when he gets the needle out to draw her blood. Unlike Karen, who balks at the mere mention of one, she’s not particularly frightened of needles. She doesn’t love the idea either, but the only reaction she gives is her hand tightening on the arm of the chair.

So before homeroom ends for her friends, she’s standing with a cookie in one hand, juice box in the other and a tiny bandage on her arm.

“We’ll hope to get you started as quickly as possible,” her nurse explains. “In the meantime, why don’t you go check the place out? There’s a good teen lounge down the hall. There’s TV, games, movies. The whole shebang.”

“The whole shebang,” Janis echoes, a faint smile on her face.

“Do the kids not say ‘shebang’ anymore?” the nurse asks innocently.

“Not since the 90s, I think,” she replies. She kicks the ground with the toe of her boot, her hands plunged into her pockets. When she takes a tiny look up, she sees her parents deep in conversation with the doctor. If she doesn’t go to the lounge, it’s back to her room and that isn’t appealing to her. Besides, been there, seen that. “Sounds cool. Where do I find it?”

She probably could have found it without the nurse’s directions, but the sunny smile she delivers them with does something to calm Janis’ nerves. It’s a bit down past her room, honey-coloured double doors open revealing a bigger area with three baby blue walls and one white and covered in pencil doodles. They’ve clearly gone all out to make it cheerful and inviting, from the yellow sunshine rug on the floor to the overstuffed bookshelves and equally overstuffed DVD and game cabinet, to the large plush armchairs, each one with a brightly coloured cushion on it that looks like it was brought in a thrift store. A cool thrift store, though. One of the chairs is occupied now by what appears to be the only person in the room besides Janis.

“Wow.” Janis jumps, and then surprisingly, she supresses a sigh. She simply assumed her parents were still talking to the doctors, but that was probably a stupid assumption. Of course they’d be on her heels. Why would they let their illness-stricken daughter out of their sight? “Well this is cool.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles in reply. As her parents take in the room, the other kid looks up at her. She can’t be more than fourteen, legs folded beneath her on the chair, clad in rainbow-stripped leggings and a pink hoodie with who she recognises to be Princess Aurora on the front. And a beanie on her head, made from purple wool. Janis’ hand clenches in her pocket, her mouth running dry.

“Hey, sweetie,” her mom says, appearing at her side. “Do you need anything? There was a little store downstairs and the doctors said you might want to eat or drink something before your treatment starts.”

Relief hits her like a water balloon being thrown and guilt quickly follows. Not enough to make her refuse, but enough to make her notice and hope this doesn’t become common.

“That’d be great, Mom,” she replies. “I didn’t really eat breakfast.”

“That’s fine, we’ll get you something. Anything in particular you want? I can get you some candy if you want, or some-”

“It’s fine,” she says, plastering a smile on her face and patting her mom’s hand. “I trust your judgement. I’ll be here.”

Her mom cups her face before she finally leaves and Janis lets out a sigh before she can stop herself. Her eyes move to the other girl out on instinct and she finds her giggling. Should she be annoyed by that? If so, she’s doing the opposite. She pauses for a second before moving towards her and sitting on the arm of the chair next to her.

“Hey,” she greets. “I’m Janis.”

Damian’s voice whispers ‘and je m’appelle Sasha Fierce’ in her ear. She shakes her head to get it out.

“Hey,” she replies, putting her tablet by her side. “I’m Maddie.” Her eyes are green and there are braces on her teeth and dimples in her cheeks and as cute as Janis finds it, there’s an air of discomfort that she hopes Maddie doesn’t pick up on. She doesn’t appear to, instead looking at her with inquisitive eyes. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, first off, I’ve never seen you. And I know everything that goes on in here.” Janis chuckles.

“So you’re the all-seeing eye,” she states and Maddie nods excitedly. “No one gets in or out without you noticing.”

“Nope.” The smile on Maddie’s face falters and her fingers fidget in her lap. “And you look… well…” As her voice trails off, the pieces click together in Janis’ mind. Even despite the height difference, there’s a visible contrast between her and Maddie that she can’t ignore. Her hand twitches to touch her hair.

“Scary? Yeah, well, I’m 5”9’,” she responds, bringing the grin back. “Plus the dye job makes me look tougher than I actually am.” She leans back so that she sits on the seat, her feet dangling over the arm.

“Oh, I love your boots!” Maddie squeaks, her eyes going wide.

“Yeah?” There’s a rush of protective affection in her chest, slightly similar to when she saw Cady looking helpless and hopeless in health class, but she’s certain it won’t develop the way those feelings did. She wiggles her legs, letting the light catch her boots. “$15 at a thrift store.”

“Woah,” she breathes. A sheepish look crosses her face, a question on her mind that may as well be written across her forehead.

“You want to try them on?”

“Can I?” Maddie’s mouth has fallen open and her eyes bulge in a perfect picture of delight that warms Janis’ heart. That feeling doesn’t go away when she toes off her boots and only swells when Maddie steps into them. Even in those boots, she barely comes up to Janis’ chest. She looks up at her with so much giddy excitement that Janis wouldn’t be surprised if she started singing.

“Oh they suit you,” she says.

“Thanks.” She looks down at them, clumsily tapping the heels together like Dorothy. “I’ve always wanted a pair of shoes like these but my mom always said they’re too adult for me. Though she has been whittled down from ‘not until your 18’ to ‘maybe for your birthday’.”

“You must be quite the negotiator.”

“Well, I guess. But she finds it hard to say no to me these days,” she shrugs.

“Ah.” Suddenly the light in Janis’ chest begins to dim and she finds herself cold again. “Well that’s fun.”

“Yeah…” Maddie must have picked up on the mood change because she sits back down and Janis follows her, once again picking at her nails. “So… what are you in for?”

“You sound like we’re in prison,” she jokes. She puts on a gruff voice and a stern expression and says “I’ve killed a man. I killed a man for a jar of pickles. And I’d do it again.” Maddie chuckles again, the sound sweet and light and well… happier than Janis thought possible given the circumstances. She picks at her fishnets, her chest heavily. “I’m in for leukaemia.”

“Oh,” is Maddie’s response, as well as a nod. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” she sighs. She considers what she wants to say carefully, reasoning that Maddie asked her the same. Maybe boundaries don’t exist here, or at least they’re different. Maybe discussing your cancer here is like discussing your test scores at school. “What about you?”

“My stomach,” she replies. “I started feeling weird two months ago, went to a doctor and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Two months?” Janis asks, astonished. She can barely imagine being here for a week, let alone two months. Her heart aches for herself and for Maddie, but there’s also a small spark of hope. Maddie’s been here two months and she seems strong enough. Who says she can’t?

“Yeah. I’m scheduled to finish soon though.” Maddie ducks her head, but it doesn’t stop Janis from seeing the sad expression on her little face. As she shakes her head and gives her a false-looking smile, Janis feels like she’s watching a replay of her own life.

“You’re incredibly tough,” she tells her and she watches the smile become real. She looks around the room, noticing things she hadn’t picked up on like the pile of board games in the corner and the flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. “So this is where you guys hang out?”

“Yeah. It’s usually more crowded than this,” she explains. “But you know… teenagers.”

“Hey, miss,” she says. “I’m a teenager too. And so are you.”

“Fair.” She taps her fingers on her knee in a rhythm Janis can’t quite place. “So your parents are with you?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “They just went to get me some food.”

“They seem cool.”

“I guess,” she says with a shrug. “You know. For parents. Speaking of, where are yours? Or do they just let a little kid like you sit alone in here with all the valuables.”

“I’m not a kid. I’ll be 13 in six weeks,” she tells her rather sternly. “I told my mom my feet were cold, so I asked her to go get me my fuzzy socks.” Janis nods, but quickly catches on to the flaw in Maddie’s idea.

“Those wouldn’t be the red fuzzy socks that you’re wearing underneath those boots, would it?” she asks.

“Shh,” she commands, finger to her lips. “She doesn’t need to know that!”

Janis throws her head back laughing at that. It’s like God took everything she could like about a human and condensed it into one little kid.

“Sneaky little brat,” she says approvingly. She’s keeping this one.

“Janis.” She turns and finds her parents right behind her chair, both with their hands full of goodies from the store. Definitely more than she can stomach now.

“Wow,” she says. “Did you leave any for anyone else?”

“Well we didn’t know exactly what you wanted,” her mom admits, flustered. “We did text you but you didn’t respond.”

“Sorry,” she shrugs. Her phone is both off and in her bag. There’s probably a lot she’s missed by now.

“It’s okay hon.” The three (four, including Maddie) sit in a tense, awkward silence in which everyone’s eyes avoid everyone else’s. Embarrassment flurries in Janis’ chest and she squirms in the chair, grappling in the empty air for a conversation topic.

“So what did you get?” she asks and everything comes back to normal again.

“Well, I got you… rice cakes, chips, candy bars… oh and we got you some water as well.” Janis stifles a laugh. Her parents are more than well-intentioned and her heart is warmed, but they’ve never gone this far before.

“Thanks,” she says, pulling a rice cake out of her mom’s arms. Out of the corner of her eye she notices Maddie shifting in her chair and she shares look with her mom, who drops another candy bar into her hand.

“Hey.” She barely has to stretch to poke Maddie in the arm with the candy. Her mouth falls open, the most sweet-sounding gasp that’s ever existed emitting from it and her eyes lighting up. Janis had no idea there was a way for a gasp to sound cute, but there is apparently. “Here. Take some sugar, kid.”

“Thanks!” she says. She takes the bar and weighs it in her hand, a decisive smile on her face for just a second before she slips the bar into her pocket. “For later,” she says.

Janis’ parents ask Maddie stuff Janis wouldn’t care for, about her school (as it happens, North Shore Middle School) and where she lives (again, as if happens, Edgewood Drive). All the while skirting around the obvious.

“Oh, my girlfriend lives there,” Janis remarks, breaking a rice cake in half. An empty packet is already sitting her lap; she hadn’t realised exactly how hungry skipping breakfast had made her. “Caddy Heron, you know her?”

“Heron? Is she the girl whose parents are zoologists?”  she asks.

“The very one.”

“Oh yeah, I met them!” she answers brightly. “After they moved in my parents brought them a pie. You know, the neighbourly thing…” She leans on the chair, her eyes wide and glittering as though she’s about to drop a huge secret. “You know they used to live in Kenya?”

“Yeah,” Janis chuckles. “Yeah I knew that.”

“Oh right.” That doesn’t deter Maddie though. Quite the opposite, she shuffles closer to her, eagerness written all over her little face. When she speaks, it’s in a hushed, low voice that trembles with excitement. “She’s your girlfriend?”

“Yep. I got lucky, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. She’s really pretty. Well, she was the last time I saw her.”

“Oh she’s very pretty,” she says matter-of-factly. She reaches for her phone to show Maddie all the photos of her, but the thought of turning her phone on freezes it in its path. Turning her phone on means anyone in the world can contact her…

“I thought her name was Cady though,” she goes on, oblivious to Janis’ conflict. She shoves the phone behind her and turns to Maddie, finding it easy to get lost in conversation with her. “Not Caddy.”

“It’s Caddy in my world,” she replies, making Maddie giggle.

“So how long have you two been together?”

“Since the end of school.” There’s a blush creeping across her face that’s warm and no doubt pink coloured and her insides feel warm and gooey like a melted brownie, the way she always feels when she talks about Cady. “I asked her out and then we got dinner and saw a movie and then… you know…” She wiggles her eyebrows, Maddie’s laughing face half hidden between her hands. “Okay actually it wasn’t like that. But our first date was dinner and a movie.”

“Cool,” Maddie breathes. “I can’t wait to get my first girlfriend. Which might not happen for a while…” Oh no Janis thinks. “I mean, I don’t know how to talk to girls.”

“Neither do I,” she tells her, letting out a breath. “My friend had to push me to go talk to her. If it weren’t for him we’d probably still be friends right now.” She reaches out and playfully punches Maddie’s shoulder, the pull in her gut too big to ignore. She can almost hear Damian telling her not to meddle. To which she would reply ‘how is this meddling?’. “Tell you what, kid. If you ever need a wing woman or a gay guru, you come straight to me.”

“You mean that?” Her eyes grow ever wider, to the point where Janis starts wondering if they have limits. Just like with Cady’s equations, the limit does not exist.

“Of course. Us gays have to stick together. Like Luke Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Who are those guys?” she asks, wrinkling her nose and confusion clouding her eyes. Janis opens her mouth to explain that it’s from some old (and not that good but still culturally relevant) movie, but her dad lets out an offended gasp before she can.

“I’m sorry,” he says when he’s met with one confused face and two amused ones. “I just can’t believe kids these days have never heard of Star Wars.”

“Oh, Star Wars,” Maddie says, as though it should have been obvious. “My brother loves them. Especially the old ones.”

“Which old ones?” he asks. “The old ones or the old-old ones?”

“There’s a difference?” she mumbles, looking over to Janis with an expression that says, ‘help me’.

“It’s not that important,” Janis tells her. When she sees her dad’s face, she can tell that to him it very much is. As they keep talking, they compare each other’s favourite Disney movies, finding they both have a deep love for Tangled and Frozen, but Maddie’s love for the mouse seems to far outweigh Janis as she lists off her favourite Princesses, which one she thinks she’s most like, which one she thinks Janis is most like (“you give off kind of an Elsa-Belle vibe” she tells her, which Janis is more than happy with). She also enthusiastically tells her about her plans to visit Disney World soon and Janis tells her the one in Paris is way better.

“You’ve been to Paris?”

“A few times,” she replies, nodding towards her dad. “You probably can’t tell, but he’s French. I have a whole army of cousins out there. You seen the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve seen Notre Dame. Before it caught fire, obviously.” She blesses herself and presses a quick kiss to her fingertips. “May she RIP in peace.”

“Cool,” Maddie says. “The coolest vacation I had before this was New York.”

“Oh, I love New York,” Janis nods. “My aunt lives out there. Ever seen Broadway?”

“Yeah, we saw Lion King!” she replies. “I was like nine years old and my dad got them-”

“Janis?” Their conversation is interrupted by her nurse, who hovers in the doorway holding a clipboard and of course, a smile. “Your doctor’s ready for you.”

“Hi Nurse Lucy!” Maddie pipes up, leaning forwards in her chair.

Lucy. That was her name. Really, how could it have been anything else?

“Hi Maddie,” she says warmly, looking at the pair of them. “Making new friends?”

“Apparently, she’s the eyes and ears around here,” Janis says as she gets up. She turns back to Maddie, giving a quick wave. “See you around, kid.”

“Bye Janis.”

She stretches her legs out and hops as they walk, her body stiff from having folded itself into a chair for that long. She finishes off the rice cake and saves the other one in her pocket for later and is reminded how much she loves these little guys. Low calories (not that she cares about that), covered in chocolate and deliciously delicate. She needs to get back into these bad boys.

She also slips a bit on the floor and realises that she left her boots back with Maddie. She shrugs and makes a mental note to get them later as she steps into her room.

Her eyes land on the IV next to her bed immediately, barely acknowledging Doctor Wiley next to it. All at once, every good feeling she had built up with Maddie, every ounce of comfort and happiness is abruptly and cruelly yanked from her and she’s reminded why she’s actually here. She’s left feeling cold and winded and frozen.

Back there she could almost have tricked herself into believing she was here for a fun little vacation. So much for that.

“Janis.” She hadn’t noticed, but she’s stepped back. Where’s she going? Back to the lounge with Maddie? To the school, where Damian and Cady are? Back home?

Her mom’s hand wraps around hers and the other rubs her shoulder.

“It’s okay baby.”

“No, I know,” she says. “I know.” She forces her feet forwards, over to where the IV is. She feels her sleeves wrapping around her arms and sticking to her skin. Her arm is encased by her hand. “Okay so what’s the drill, doc?”

“Well, we’re planning to have you get a few sessions each day,” he explains. “Between two and four really. Now that we know the type of leukaemia you have and where it’s at, this is the best place to start.”  

“Sounds like fun,” she mumbles. She lowers herself on to the bed, her hand still around her arm.

“Unfortunately, it’s going to make you feel pretty bad most days,” he confesses. “But it’s going to kill the leukaemia cells as well.” She nods minutely, passively listening to him explaining the process to both her and her parents. She’s not scared of needles. At all. And she thinks that she shouldn’t be scared of this, since it’s the good thing. So why is her heart pounding so fast?

She takes off her cardigan, exposing the white t-shirt and its skull print and most importantly, her bare arms. Beneath the lights they look almost translucent. At least Nurse Lucy doesn’t have any issue finding the vein. They could be seen on Google maps like blue rivers running through a snowy mountain.

“You ready?” the nurse asks. She’s not and she never will be. But the world won’t wait for her to be ready. Nor will the cancer in her body. She twists one of the rings on her hand, a little plastic thing Cady won in an arcade game. Her fearless girl. Wouldn’t Cady want her to be fearless too?

It takes a while, but the words “I’m ready” fall from her lips and the needle goes into her vein.

“You probably know all about the sound effects by now,” Lucy explains. “Might make you a little tired, might make you feel nauseous. Or it could go the other way and make you feel stronger than normal.”

“I hope it’s the other one,” she remarks as tape is secured over her arm. “I want superpowers.”

“Wouldn’t it be lovely if it worked that way?” she replies as she straightens up. “Okay. This is going to take around two hours to-”

“Two hours?” she echoes in disbelief. She looks up at the little bag at the top of her IV. There’s no way there’s two hours’ worth of medicine in there.

“Afraid so,” she says sympathetically, patting Janis’ shoulder.

“What am I meant to do for the next two hours?”

“There’s a TV,” the nurse reminds her. “Normally we’d let you do this in the lounge, but since it’s your first go we want to monitor you.”

“Consider me monitored,” she replies dryly, sneaking a glance up at the bag. Absolutely no change.

“You’ve got your TV in here,” her nurse reminds her. “And I’m sure there’s loads of gadgets in your bag to keep you occupied while you wait.” She turns more to her parents than to Janis, no doubt trying to ease their worries. “I’ve got a sixteen year old. She’s never off that phone.”

She leaves with the instruction that Janis keep hydrated throughout and a promise to call back in later. Her mom turns on the TV and flicks through channels even though it doesn’t have half the channels it does at home. She settles on some cute home renovation show that should normally get her creative buzz going and lead to hours on Pinterest, but instead she only half pays attention to it, the rest of her mind jumping from the IV above her head to the flowers she’s doodling in her sketchbook to her still-off phone that sits coldly in her lap.

“How’s everyone in school?” her dad asks, likely aware of what he’s doing. She taps her fingers on the screen as though it were on and takes a swing of water.

“I’m sure they’re all fine,” she says, adding another flower to her doodle. “Damian can keep me updated with the tea tonight.”

Janis never thought she’d miss school. Even disregarding the ugly history that’s followed her around the halls, she just never grew attached to it. She’d rolled her eyes at people who told her she’d cry on her last day and swore up and down to Damian, and later Cady, that they’d be the only things she’s miss. It wasn’t like she was counting down the days to graduation, but at the same time, she wasn’t going to lose any sleep over moving on.

But now North Shore is the only place she wants to be. For the first time she wishes she were in physics writing about gravity and mass or in history learning the severely edited version of the Civil War. She’d take the cafeteria food and its health violations over corner store rice cakes any day and at least at school there’s a change of scenery every forty minutes or so. And more than anything, she misses her friends. Going this long without Damian’s warm hearted words of wisdom or Cady’s soft spoken support has been physically painful, but she’s even found herself missing Karen and Gretchen too. Who knows, maybe if this year was going normally, they’d have even become friends. She could never imagine not being in North Shore would hurt as much as it does, but here she is, sitting in near-silence with a deep, harrowing ache in her chest that’s not from the cancer nor the medicine. Like a lot of stuff she’s come across today, it’s something she’ll have to get used it.

Even with that agony it takes almost an hour for her to work up the courage to open her phone, just as the medicine is beginning to cloud her head. She presses the screen into the bed until the buzzing and pinging and ringing stop, the corner of her mouth twitching up. She’s never been so popular.

On Facebook and in all her DMs are messages from people from every cafeteria table; the band geeks, the debate team, the dance team and both sets of jocks all send her good wishes. The messages range from the stilted and awkward to the over-emotional; some offer her two to three lines hoping she’s okay and some give her miniature essays telling her how horrible it yes (tell me something I don’t know she thinks)  and how brave she is and if she needs anything, anything at all, they’re here for her. Even the Christian believers have sent her little prayers, despite the clashes she’s had with them over the years. She guesses she appreciates it, despite what her inner atheist-slash-witch thinks. Isn’t it nice to have people thinking of you?

When she goes back to her feed, her face is the first thing she sees. Not her own post and not one of her friend’s either, but one put up by the North Shore account. It’s her standing in the art room holding the prize she got from the art expo, grinning at the camera so proudly you wouldn’t guess she’d just fought with someone the night before.

‘Shout out to our brave student Janis Sarkisian, who is battling leukaemia this year. Janis is a bright star in our art program and co-founder of our new LGBT+ society. The North Shore Lions are roaring with you every step of the way, Janis!!’

Well that’s almost sweet, she thinks. Even if the idea of lions roaring at her is a little off-putting. What’s even more off-putting is the comments on it, all sobbing about how awful it is for her, people she’s never met preaching about how brave she is and how they know she’ll fight like hell. Even though she’s alone in this room, she feels hundreds of eyes on her, none of them familiar, and the attention makes her squirm.

Biting her nail, she clicks out of Instagram and takes in a breath before checking her texts instead. She hopes to find some sanity and order in there and she almost does… until she finds a text from someone. The contact isn’t saved in her phone, but she knows who it is, and it sparks fury and disgust in her gut.

“Hey Janis. Hope you’re doing okay. We all got told about it in school. We’re all thinking of you. -Regina xx.”

“Seriously?” Janis sighs, not realising she’s spoken out loud.

“Seriously what?” her mom asks with poorly masked concern. Her cheeks grow warm as she shows her mom the text and an uncertain look spreads across her mother’s face.

“Well that’s nice, isn’t it?” she says. Asks, more like.

“Not at all.” Regina George isn’t nice, ever. “And does she need to sign off her texts like that. This isn’t Gossip Girl.”

Thankfully, there are texts rom Cady and Damian to restore balance to the universe. At some point last night, she and Damian stopped using words and started using GIFs. The last thing in their chat is her sending him one of two kittens cuddling, obviously meant to be them. And after she fell asleep, Cad had texted her a sweet good night she managed to miss. Followed by a voice message, one that’s earnest and quiet and sent at 2:31am. She pops her headphones in, a myriad of emotions stirring in her foggy brain, and presses play.

“Hey. It’s me. Of course it’s me who else would it be? I just um…. This is scary. I don’t know why I’m telling you that, you know. You know more than anyone. Anyway I just wanted to let you know that I’m not going anywhere. I meant it. And whenever you get scared or it gets intense… just call me. Or text me. Or even think of me, okay? Just think of me. I miss you. A lot. I know I saw you today but I miss you. I… you mean a lot to me, Janis. And I know you’re going to kick this thing’s butt. I know you will and I hope you know that you know you will. I also really hope you’re asleep right now instead of listening to this because if you’re not asleep I’m coming over there. I wish I could come over there. I wish I could come with you… Okay, okay, I’m getting too sappy here, so I’m going to go to sleep now. Bye, Janis. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

Janis lets out something that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. It reflects what’s going on in her head perfectly; all those bubbling and complex feelings boiled down to ‘half happy, half sad’. She’s fairly confident that’s the way she’ll go on for the next few weeks, and some days will have more sad than others. And she bets that the happiness is going to be harder to come by and harder to fight for on those days. So she makes a start. She sends Cady a quick ‘lol that’s gay’ message, followed up by a thank you and a little gay message of her own. Then she replays the message and feels the smile on her face grow a bit wider each time she does.

[eekmangomochi]

Chapter 3:

My mom made burgers for dinner, beef for her and Emory, and Turkey for me. I sprinkled a bit of garlic salt on mine and placed a slice of American cheese on the patty, then placed my patty on the hamburger bun, (I don’t like anything else on it). I grabbed a paper plate and placed my burger on it, and grabbed some curly fries off the pan. “Thanks, mom.” I said as I was getting the bottle of honey mustard from the fridge. 

“You’re welcome, honey.” I squeezed a bit of honey mustard onto my plate to dip my burger and fries in, and put it back in the fridge before sitting down at the table across from Emory.

I split my burger in half with my hands and dipped one half in the honey mustard. I’m the only one who likes honey mustard, neither my mom or my brother like it. 

You’re probably wondering, ‘What about your dad?’ Well, my father passed away when I was about six and Emory was four, so we don’t really remember him. He had stage 4 cancer and he fought as hard as he could, but cancer won in the end. My mom was devastated, but she has been able to take care of Emory and I just fine. 

I finished my burger and fries before my mom even got to the table, so I just threw my plate away and went back to my room to read my Babysitters Club book. I know these books are old, and they used to be my mom’s when she was my age, but I don’t care. I love The Babysitters Club, and I have a lot of them. Granted, my mom collected them a while ago. I was reading Logan Likes Mary Anne. Mary Anne is my favorite character because she goes by her first and middle name, just like me!

Okay, enough about The Babysitters Club. I read for awhile until about 8:00, and then I went to bed. 

I woke up the next morning, nervous to go to school because I was gonna have to see Ian. Wait… he’s bringing me to school. You can’t see, but I just face-palmed. I slowly got out of bed and sluggishly walked over to my closet. I was looking through my clothes when my phone dinged. I grabbed my phone off my bed, and saw that I had a text from Ian. 

Dont forget, my brother and i are picking u up, k?

Me: k

I don’t know how, but I had completely forgotten that neither Ian nor I were old enough to drive, and that his older brother would have to drive us. I threw on my favorite oversized tee, along with some jean shorts and knee socks with combat boots that are really chonky. My t-shirt was black with a plumbob on it (specifically the one from The Sims 4) and it said my name in Simlish. My shirt almost covered my shorts, but that was fine with me. I like my shirts extra long (it’s a large). 

My boots were just plain black, but my socks had tiny cowplants lining the top. You’re probably wondering what I look like, aren’t you?

I have shoulder length orange hair that’s parted down the middle, and I usually have it in a high ponytail. I have heterochromia in my eyes, so one eye is brown and the other is bright green. I have freckles sprinkled all over my nose and cheeks, which my mom says makes me adorable, but I don’t like being called “adorable”. I’ve got pretty long eyelashes, which I cake in mascara because they are practically invisible. I wear my eyeliner, cat eye style, and bright red lip gloss on my almost non-existent lips. I’m only five-foot-three, and Ian’s five-foot-eight. In case you were wondering, which you probably weren’t. Wondering my body type? Well, if you look up the girl group, BLACKPINK, I have their body type. Skinny, but still… how do I say this? Attractive? Well, anyways. 

I wouldn’t exactly call myself popular. In fact, I am pretty sure I’m one of the least popular kids at my school. I’m surprised Ian even knows who I am. Wait, I just realized something. HOW did Ian know my phone number? And HOW did I know that it was Ian I was texting? I guess I just wasn’t thinking. 

I finished getting ready, and I grabbed some peanut butter crackers on my way out the door, so I would have something to get me through to lunch. 

As soon as I walked out the door, Ian and his brother pulled up in a white Jeep. When I turn sixteen, I want a Jeep, that’s my dream car. I was in awe that Ian’s brother owned a Jeep! Ian rolled down the window and called out, “C’mon, babe! You don’t wanna be late, right?!” for a quick second, I was stunned that Ian just called me babe. I don’t know why, but it gave me a little happy feeling in my heart. I’m glad that my mom and brother had already left, because I genuinely have no idea how they would react to Ian calling me babe.

Before I could open the door, Ian jumped out of the car and opened the door for me. “You look hot today, Charlie Rose.” I couldn’t tell if he was just going along with the fake relationship thing, or if he actually thought I was hot. 

I leaned over and whispered to him, “Does your brother know this is fake?” he answered, “No, everyone I know thinks we’re actually dating.”

I was about to get in the car when Ian grabbed my t-shirt and pulled me towards him. This can’t be happening, this isn’t real, this isn’t real, I kept telling myself. I had a shocked look on my face when Ian leaned down and kissed me on the lips, and he was kissing me HARD. I knew he was just doing it to show off to his brother, but I kinda liked it. Even though my eyes were wide open the whole time Ian was holding me tight around my waist, and he wouldn’t quit kissing me so I had to push him off of me with all of my strength. Ian’s pretty strong. When I pushed him off, he tried to kiss me again. I have no idea why, so I pushed him away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his brother staring at us with a startled look on his face. He finally said something to Ian, “Bro, stop! She doesn’t wanna kiss you right now, man!” Ian looked at his brother and gave him an “are you serious?” face. “Bruh, just help her get in the car, and stop kissing her without her consent!”

I was glad his brother said something because I was about to kiss Ian back, and I DID NOT want Ian to know I liked him. 

[frangipanidownunder]

Fox Mulder’s Guide to Building a Pool: part 2

Read Part 1

A/N This is in answer to an anon prompt: Mulder builds a pool in the yard. It ran away from me so I’ll post it in two parts.

This is set post IWTB and assumes Season 10 didn’t happen. Because it shouldn’t have, am I right? Angsty to start with.

Winter

November rushed headlong into house and yard with blizzards and ice storms and squealing winds under the doors. The pool project remained as frozen as the ground but his brain was always planning. Winter was the end of things, yet, even as he scraped freezing condensation from the inside of the windows, he felt a kind of resurgence. Like his bare, unadorned spirit had rested enough to begin anew. It helped that he spoke to Scully often, random phone calls, text messages with links to articles she’d found on cryptid sightings or arcane deaths. Her emoji use was spot on. Aliens and foxes and ghosts and a solitary blue heart.

Christmas Eve and she sent him a message about a sighting of a ‘gargantuan, hirsute humanoid’ in a Florida forest and after reading it with a sense of comforting familiarity and relieved distance, he googled the meaning of the blue heart. Trust, harmony, peace and loyalty. Reading into emojis had to rank right up there on the Fox Mulder Chart of Weirdness but the idea of it, that she had carefully researched this colour and chosen it as the one to close off her messages to him, took root in his own heart and he felt a burst of that same restless energy that had plagued him for months.

He walked to the back door, chancing a look out. A smirry rain fell, leaving the bare branches oily in the low light. Further around, the pool, sunk below the hard, cold earth was a gaping dark mouth, the concrete bearing the marks of months of bad weather. In one corner, debris from the yard had collected, twigs and small stones, plastic wrapping floating in the grimy pool of melted snow that covered the base.

The sound of her voice as she picked up the call pulled a smile to his lips. She sounded pleased to hear from him. Excited almost.

“Hey.” It was an extended version of her usual greeting. A stretching of the word into something more. His heart skipped. “I know you don’t celebrate, but Happy Christmas, Mulder.”

It would have been typical for him to make some flippant remark about stockings or mistletoe but instead, he raked up the trash in the pool as he wished her season’s greetings and listened to her stories of wrapping gifts for the kids at work and the terribly formal staff dinner where the turkey was overcooked and the hasselbacks were rubbery and she left early so she could pull on her pyjamas and robe and watch It’s a Wonderful Life and then, after a breathy pause, added, that it wasn’t the same on her own.

“What’s that noise?” she asked.

He could have said it was the sound of his heart breaking free of his ribcage but he shook his head at himself and took a deep breath. “Would you believe me if I said I was cleaning the pool?” She laughed and he burst right through her green light. “Did you want to come over, Scully?”

She would very much love to, she said, and he held the phone to his chest while he scraped out the detritus against the side wall one-handed. The first flake of snow landed and he looked up to the silver heavens and whispered a thank-you.

Guilt crept in when he saw a parcel in her hand. “I didn’t get you anything, Scully.” He took her coat, the bag of groceries and the gift and she said she’d forgive him and he grinned at her as he rattled the box until she tutted and snatched it back from him.

“I’ll put it under the tree,” she said but the living room was empty of seasonal decor and she looked down at the gift and her feet and he wondered if he could pull out all the boxes in the attic to retrieve the decorations but she shook her head and laughed through her nose. “Don’t worry about it.” She could still read him like a book.

The intensity of the storm took them by surprise, heaping snow against the window sills and the door and Scully’s car until everything was silent-white and glistening. He poured brandy over ice and she sank into the couch next to him wrapped in a blanket and wearing a resigned smile.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m not due at mom’s until New Year. I was going to be working but that changed, so I have no plans.” She squeezed his knee and there was a glint in her eye that had him almost believing that she’d engineered the weather, just like that Holman guy from years before, but Dana Scully MD was no lovelorn meteorologist. She was the sender of blue heart emojis, the bringer of turkey steaks and farmer’s market vegetables, she was the best present ever, the three wise men and more.

She was also a little tipsy, he thought, eyeing her reddened cheeks and the way she shucked off her boots to tuck her ankles under her ass. He hadn’t seen her so loose for years. He’d spent too long ignoring her that by the time she left she was coiled like wire rope and just as cool to touch.

“If this storm keeps up maybe we can skate on your pool,” she said and giggled, pressing her fingers under her nose.

“You want to rush me to ER with multiple fractures on Christmas morning, Scully?” He swallowed the liquor.

Her face straightened and she cleared her throat. “It will be strange, won’t it, being here tomorrow? Waking up on Christmas morning together. It’s not something we’ve done for…”

“Three years,” he said and let that settle between them before adding, “but I’m looking forward to it.”

“Because it feels like we’ve moved past…all that?”

All that. All that rage and disappointment. All that bitterness and rancour. All that unsaid. Too much said. “Because it feels fated,” he said. And she pulled a face. “Preordained, inexorable.”

“Destined,” she said, leaning forward. “Portentous?”

He chuckled. “That has a negative connotation, like foreshadowed. It’s more ominous than auspicious.”

“I’m going to have to take back that Thesaurus and buy you something else, Mulder.” She nodded to the present on the table.

“I used to be poor,” he said and she quirked her eyebrow. “Then my partner bought me a thesaurus and now I’m impecunious.”

Her snort was half-laugh, half-surprise. “We’re not…”

“I know.”

The next morning dawned clear and Mulder was already awake. Had hardly slept. Like a child at Christmas, he thought wryly, impatient for his gift. Scully wasn’t for unwrapping though. At this stage, he was lucky she was here to decorate his living room. The brightest star. An angel.

She was dressed in his old anorak he’d used years before to clear the yard when they first moved in. It surrounded her like a canoe, pointed hood above her head and falling to almost her ankles. She was dragging something behind her, leaving a thick trail through the snow. Mulder opened the door and she huffed through, revealing her treasure – a small pine tree, dripping melting snow in grey piles on the floor.

He found a box of decorations behind a wall of old books, dusted them off and climbed back down the ladder. She’d made cocoa and found marshmallows from that Mary Poppins bag of hers. She added a dash of brandy with a hair of the dog wink and they made the tree pretty.

Flipping pancakes, he watched her as she sat in the chair near the window, wrapped now in one of his sweaters, pink-stockinged feet crossed. “If you squint through these blinds, Mulder, and use your imagination, of which you received a wild and overly large share, it looks like there’s a snow monster in the pool.”

“Are you still drunk, Scully?” He bent beside her, close enough to see the dark skin on the mole above her lip.

“I am not, look! There. See it? It’s got shifty eyes and a long nose.”

He rubbed at his own features and she jabbed his hand away.

“It’s there. I swear. Come on, I’ll show you.” She shot up and dragged him outside where the cold shrunk his skin around his bones. The sky threatened to unload again and she shivered despite her layers. He slunk an arm around her shoulders and she swayed into him. “There. Look. See?” Her finger pointed but he couldn’t have seen a thing beyond the fact that she was there, right next to him in the dead of winter, gesticulating to a lump of frozen water.

“At least when Frosty the Snowmonster dies, the pool will be quarter full,” he said, holding open the door for her. She dipped under his arm and it felt like old times.

Spring

Blossom hugged the ends of branches, pom-poms of pink dipping on the breeze. The sun was watery-warm and birdsong amplified the hope of the season. He’d tiled the pool himself, enjoying he exact nature of the work. The water delivery contractor was late but the from his vantage point on the front deck, Mulder couldn’t care less. Just for an hour or so, he could afford to do nothing. He told himself he deserved it. He let his eyes slip shut.

“Can’t a girl get a fanfare any more?” Scully was standing at the foot of the steps, casual in blue jeans and a fitted mint-green tee, her hair was pulled back in a scruffy ponytail that usually signified she was about to get messy.

He made trumpet noises and she bowed when she reached the deck. From her tote she took out a bag of pastries. He liked this version of Scully. He liked her very much. This soft, coquettish variety gave him hope like the spring and made him feel lighter.

“I’ll make coffee,” he said and ushered her through with a theatrical wave.

The truck arrived two hours late but that was two hours passed with Scully who spent her time asking questions about the pump and the pool fence requirements and whether he was going to plant a garden and how much she loved the mosaic tile design on the bottom and whether he’d considered a shade sail. She wrinkled her nose and her freckles danced. He had a vision of her sunburnt and cranky.

“I’ll order one before the heat hits,” he said, solemnly.

“Don’t do it just for me,” she said, over the din of the hose being unravelled from the truck.

As though he would do anything for anyone else. He’d spent much of the time since the Father Joe case doing things only for himself. He couldn’t see it then, but his focus had narrowed beyond the scope of voiceless victims, beyond the purview of his domestic responsibilities and from his refreshed perspective, he could see now how Scully had been cut out of his orbit.

“Did you imagine this when we first moved in here?”

“You designing and constructing a pool, sundeck and safety fence? Mulder, when we first moved here you couldn’t have built a house of cards. Remember when the screen door fell off the hinges and you tried to fix it but ended up breaking the drill. You were so angry, a wounded animal fighting off any help. I thought…” she covered her eyes with her hand to watch the water running over the bottom of the pool, steadily rising, filling the void. “I should have left sooner. Maybe you would have rediscovered this…this spirit of yours earlier.”

“You think your leaving prompted me to do all this?”

“Didn’t it?”

“It took more than three years of you not…”

She sucked in a breath and it dawned on him that she was still hurting too. Would it ever stop? Or was the pain destined to be a constant companion to remind them of their failings? Was building a pool really just a diversion from the agony of Scully being gone? Was her position at the hospital just her version of a building project? She was building herself a better life and he was building a pool.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing gently. “For not trying harder.”

The drone of the truck’s motor stuttered to a halt and he looked down at her. She was gazing at the water as it slapped at the sides, settling. “You have nothing to apologise for, Scully. I closed off, shut down, kept you out and then got mad at you when you made a new life.”

“We were both pretty closed off, Mulder. Talking for hours but never saying enough. Remember how we used to spend days on the road and never have to say a thing. We could go for miles in silence. It didn’t bother us then, so when did that change?”

“I think the truth of it is that we were both just talking at each other, trying to get our voices heard, but we didn’t care to listen for fear of actually hearing.”

She raised those brows of hers and smiled. “That’s very deep and heartfelt.”

The truck reversed and he looked down at the water and the moving outline of the blue love heart he’d tiled at the bottom of the pool. “Just like my pool.”

The first time she came over for a swim, she presented him with a new beach towel. It had a fox face on it and she was so proud of herself. She let him splash her and she bombed him and he didn’t want her to leave but he watched her drive away and sat on the verandah for hours after the sun went down.

She phoned to say she was coming over again and that gave him an idea. After all, he owed her two gifts now. So he went online and shopped.

Taking the parcel, she dipped her head in gratitude. “This better not be a beach towel with Big Blue on it, Mulder, or I swear to God…” She ripped the package open scattering paper everywhere. She held it up. It was a one-piece swimsuit the colour of those Caribbean island beaches, azure, the colour of her eyes. She pulled a face, whispering a wow and telling him he shouldn’t have because people might talk.

“Let them talk,” he called out, as she slipped into the house to change. “What else could they say about us that we haven’t heard already, Mrs Spooky.”

When she returned, she was wearing the bathing suit and a knee-length cream sarong. She pulled a wide-brimmed hat out of her bag and went to put it on but he stopped her.

“Just one more thing,” he said, finding the smaller parcel. “This is a very late birthday or really early Christmas present. Take your pick.”

“Another gift? You already got me this suit and I’m wondering if I should really spend the afternoon with a man who buys lingerie for a single woman…”

“It’s lingerie?” His voice was high-pitched because he was genuinely curious and a little sorry about her use of the word single which seemed unnecessary but she grinned wickedly and he breathed out in relief. “Damn. If I’d have known that I would have bought that red lace number…”

“Don’t push your luck, Mulder.”

The small gift was wrapped in silver frosted paper decorated with a gold bow. She opened this one with much more care and when she lifted the lid and saw the silver chain with the blue topaz heart pendant, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s beautiful, Mulder. You shouldn’t have. It’s too much.”

“Trust, harmony, peace and loyalty. Blue hearts. That’s what they mean.”

“Uh-huh.” She turned and he clipped the necklace under the hair. “You’re reading a lot into an emoji.” Was he? Maybe. Did he care? Not much. She turned to face him, stood on tiptoe and kissed him, softly, gently, with love. “But you’ve always looked beyond the obvious. And that’s why I love you.”

Love. Not loved. He took her hand and walked her to the edge. “Ready?”

She didn’t answer but tugged at his wrist and pulled him forward so they both plunged into the deep blue, going down and down.

[kaspbrak-tozier-reddie]

So apparently Richie is like a modern e-boy but can you write a fic where both he and Eddie are like soft boys?

Oh dang, anon! A modern!AU coming your way!

Warnings: mentions of drug use, Sonia’s great parenting

Send quote or prompt and I’ll write a fic

—————————————

As soon as he hears what and E-Boy is, Richie is quick to change his style, getting rid of his black jeans and graphic tees (obviously keeping his band tees). Richie had given up smoking years ago and he was glad he did, he’s much better than he was back in high school. Richie had refused to try vaping from Bev or take any more weed. He wanted to be clean, even if that meant going cold turkey on the things that gave him comfort and especially the potential lung cancer.

Swapping his emo look for a more colourful look isn’t easy, living for the dark colours and the eyeliner. It comforts him. 

It isn’t like he’s going completely soft, he still listens to his AC/DC and Guns n Roses CDs. Plus his My Chemical Romance and Nirvana CDs. It’s just the outside look that’s changing, maybe this way he can actually make some friends at college! Instead of shying away in his dorm room every night and day.

*

That’s just what he does. He sits down beside some boy (around his age) that he’s seen talking to his best friends, Stan and Bill. “Hi, Eddie right?” Richie asks the shorter brunette in a pastel pink polo shirt and jeans.

“Yeah, Richie?” Eddie asks, Richie nods and throws his backpack his feet and sits beside the other boy. “What’s with the new getup?”

“I was being labelled as an E-Boy tiktoker but I’m not so I opted for a change,” Richie explains.

“I kinda miss the grunge look.” Richie feels his cheeks heat up a little and hopes that his blush isn’t obvious. “But I’m really digging this, it’s hot.” 

Is he seriously outwardly flirting with me? Richie thinks, no, that can’t be.

There isn’t the slightest possibility that Eddie is attracted to the ‘new’ look. He has to just be complimenting him on the new style, Eddie is an obviously straight man, right? He has his girlfriend sitting right next to him, so he has to be straight, or at least Bi! Right?! RIGHT?!

Richie doesn’t focus on the lecture but on his panicking thoughts, completely overthinking the interaction only seconds before. He starts to tap his foot to the rhythm of ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’ Thinking of just leaving the lecture hall and potentially throwing up from the panic, or maybe the gay panic as some memes say. 

Maybe changing from an E-boy to a Soft boy was just a huge mistake! He can still be an E-boy without the cancer sticks, right? But he doesn’t want to be an E-boy or an Emo anymore, he wants to be the old Richie who wore shitty Hawaiian shirts day in day out. 

The one that cracked jokes about mom’s and his dick. 

The one that got straight A’s and helped out at the dentist that his dad owned.

Richie wishes that the times were different, back before the bullying drove him away to a state over and took up smoking and marijuana. Sure he met Bev but she wasn’t the same as Bill or Stan, he missed those lunatics. Well, that was until he found out that he was going to NYU with them.

With that being said, Richie pushes himself out of the seat and towards the exit, almost throwing up in the process. 

*

Once he manages to get up to his dorm room, he immediately throws up in the ensuite bathroom since Stan basically forced the three of them to get a large suite with an ensuite didn’t want to share a bathroom with anyone. It is more expensive but the suite allowed for a third person and they immediately said ‘Bill’.

“Oh sorry ‘ill, didn’ see ya dere,” Richie says with mouthful emerging from the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out from his mouth.

“You feeling okay Rich?” Bill asks, Richie throws up a finger to tell Bill to wait as he spits out the toothpaste that was accumulating as he brushed.

“Uh no. I think Eddie flirted with me.” Bill cocks an eyebrow in confusion before starting to laugh. “What’s funny Big Bill?”

“It’s so obvious he’s straight and you’re reading too much into it because you haven’t had a boyfriend in, - wait, you’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“Yes, thank you so much for pointing it out! I’m a 19-year-old virgin, I get it!” 

Richie huffs and sits down on his bed. Maybe Bill’s right. Maybe he is overthinking the interaction just because he’s desperate for someone to like him. That has to be the simplest explanation. 

He just sits there for 5 minutes, thinking, thinking about Eddie, thinking about himself. Sure Eddie is cute, they’ve never spoken a word before today but he had seen Eddie around campus and in the common area of their dorm. Not to mention in a couple of classes and seeing him talk to Bill and/or Stan. This crush starts to build more and more but Eddie has a girlfriend that Bill swears looks like Eddie’s mum. 

“Richie, I feel your panic vibes. What is it now?”

“I’m going to talk to Eddie.”

Bill sits at his desk dumbfounded, watching Richie get up from his bed and rush towards the door, but he’s unsure if he should be stopping Richie or not. The thought of Richie getting his hopes up and getting hurt… it isn’t what he wants.

****

As he walks towards Eddie’s dorm room (he mentally thanks Stan’s loud mouth), he thinks about what ‘soft boys’ do. If E-Boys, wear dark colours, smoke/vape, basically be emo; then what do soft boys do? Maybe be sweet, gentlemen-like? Richie doesn’t know, all he knows is emo. He worships the colour black and the whole My Chemical Romance movement. He loves heavy metal and the 70s and 80s music, well era in general. 

He makes note that most of his old clothes, yes were ‘soft boy’ shit but were also vintage, like what his dad wore during the 70s and 80s. Is there such a thing as a vintage boy? Richie thinks, probably not.

Richie finally makes it to Eddie’s dorm room and he knocks lightly hoping that it is loud enough for the short brunette to hear.

“Richie? What are you doing here?” Eddie asks as he opens his door and Richie immediately found the floor interesting, keeping his vision locked onto the wooden strips.

“I uh - I just wanted to apologise for running out of the lecture like that,” Richie explains. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he did feel guilty for running out like that but the crush on the boy in front of him overpowered his senses, causing him to start an anxiety attack.

“I think I know why.” Richie snaps his head up, locking his eyes with Eddie’s, he feels his eyelids pull open as far as they can go. What is happening?

“Uh? How? What?” Richie starts to stammer on his wording not sure how to form a sentence. After 19 years, he has finally been made to shut up without being “beeped” or told to shut up; this is completely voluntary.

“I too have had a crush on you. You’re kinda hard to not notice in all that black. As much as I love the change, you’re such a hot emo.” 

Richie can’t believe what he’s hearing, he’s practically jumping for joy, but he’s kicked back to his senses when he sees a photo on the wall. It’s Eddie and his girlfriend at some fancy college event. “But don’t you have a girlfriend?” 

“No, she’s just a friend but she’s kinda obsessed with me and won’t let me be my true gay self.”

“So that’s why Bill’s so adamant on you being straight.” It all makes sense now, no wonder why Eddie cringes when the girl loops her arm around his waist or when she tries to kiss him, he pulls away. 

“Yeah, everyone thinks that. Myra just has my ma’s way of thinking. ‘Those homosexuals have aids Eddie-bear, they’ll infect those with weak immune systems’.” Richie starts to laugh. “She was the worst, tried to make me go to a community college and then she forced me to date, Myra because I told her I was gay.”

“Sounds like the absolute worst.”

Eddie nods and sits on his bed and signals for Richie to join him. Richie shyly walks towards the bed, sitting down awkwardly an arm’s length away from Eddie. The boy beside him gives him a look and he scoots closer to him, his long lanky legs outstretched in front of him. 

It’s an awkward silence, the two boys sit in silence facing the opposite wall. Richie needs to make a move, Eddie made the first one back in that lecture hall, so he needs to think of something and fast.

Richie scoots a little closer so that their hips are basically touching, his arm goes around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer. “I’ve had a crush on you as well.” Richie swears he hears Eddie’s breathing hitch. Thinking he made a mistake, he pulls away but Eddie holds him back.

“You know the ‘soft-boy persona won’t suit you,” Eddie says. “It means you act all sweet but really you’re a fuck boy. Just from meeting you today and from what Bill and Stan have told me about you, you’re too sweet to be an asshole.”

“So you prefer my emo look?”

“Did you change for me?!” 

Richie laughs and shakes his head. “God! If I did someone needed to shoot me. No, I found this.” Richie points to his Hawaiian shirt. “Back at home and decided to dress like I used to. Band tees are still part of that, but I’m going back to the old Richie.”

Eddie smiles and looks up at Richie. “Tell me, what does the old Richie entail, and what made you say goodbye to the new Richie?”

So Richie tells him about his childhood, the bullying, the ‘mom’ jokes, the fact that he was a repressed gay geek that was more often than not seen at the arcade playing Street Fighter. He was a happy kid who chilled in his bright Hawaiian shirts (that were 3 sizes too big) and matching undershirts often paired with shorts or jeans. His coke bottle glasses always falling down the bridge of his nose. 

Life was simpler back then.

He further explained that when he was finally driven out of the town and to a state over, he met Beverly who was a complete and utter badass. She was the one that introduced him to more music than just Nirvana, Led Zepplin, Guns n Roses, AC/DC and Queen. Richie’s music taste developed tremendously, so his clothing palate became dark. 

She opened his eyes to the beauty of weed and tobacco, not to mention beer. She was his first and only friend at his new school, a real beauty, the only one that knew his secret other than Stan and Bill. 

It wasn’t until junior year that he realised that smoking was a cancer stick, sure he knew beforehand but he didn’t want to waste his life away. So by the time that vaping became a thing at the end of senior year, he had fully quit and was offered a puff from Bev’s Juul and Richie refused. 

****

“Wow. Didn’t pin you as a smoker,” Eddie says after 5 minutes of letting everything sink in.

“Please don’t hate me, I know you’re a health nut,” Richie says.

“I could never. I’m glad you stopped.”

Richie smiles to himself but dragging out a thought if he didn’t actually stop smoking. Would Eddie have turned the other way and refused to talk to him? Richie doesn’t want to be thinking about that but the thought continues circles around his head.

He can feel another anxiety attack coming on but he can’t excuse himself because then the boy that’s hugging him will know that something is wrong. Richie tries to relax and push the negative thoughts away. 

The two fell into another awkward silence unsure of where to go from there, but the ball is now in Eddie’s court. “So Eds, tell me more about you. I just told you how I have always been a secret softie,” Richie says.

That opens a flood gate of all possible topics to tell Richie so he stays on the topic of how his mother made him into a hypochondriac and made him into a repressed gay. 

*

Needless to say, Richie is starting to get weirded out by the fact that he’s in Eddie’s dorm room hugging or really cuddling the smaller boy and the two of them acknowledging that they have a crush on one another but saying nothing about it.

Richie doesn’t want to say anything in case Eddie isn’t - 

“Rich, what are we doing?” Eddie asks. “We’ve been sitting here for an hour.”

“Well, do you want this to be a date or just a couple of friends hanging out?” Richie prompts.

“I don’t know.”

“If you want to figure things out beforehand -” Richie’s cut off by Eddie’s lips. It’s over as quick as it began, not giving Richie the time to react.

“I’m ready to be my true self. If you can do it, I can.” Eddie smiles. “Wanna come down to the admin office, I have a major to change.”

“Going badass on me now?”

Eddie smirks and kisses Richie again, this time Richie’s prepared and immediately kisses him back. 

[bowlegsandbiceps]

Positive 20 Questions Tag Game

1.) Name 4 fictional characters who showcase your personality the best, with explanations if you want.

- Daria Morgendorffer (Daria): “I don't have low self-esteem. I have low esteem for everyone else.” Daria was me in highschool. A writer, too smart and too introverted with a complete disdain for her environment.

- Miranda Hobbs (Sex & the City): “Sexy is what I try to get them to see me as after I win them over with my personality.” Not a girly girl. Painfully awkward but it never kept her down. Told hard truths. Was everyone’s ride or die.

- Julia Sugarbaker (Designing Women): “It has been the men who have done the law making and the money making and most of the mischief making. So, if the world isn't quite what you had in mind, you have only yourselves to thank." Okay this one is a little more aspirational but I do strive to be a strong Southern lady like Julia and am often the voice of reason among my squirrely friends. She’s prideful and smart with a sharp tongue and will try to resolve issues in a gentile manner but doesn’t hesitate to bring out “the terminator” if needed.

- Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables): “People laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas, you have to use big words to express them, haven’t you?” I was JUST LIKE ANNE as a little girl, such a dreamer and HIGH DRAMA. 

Runners up: Sarah Crewe, A Little Princess; Sarah Williams, Labyrinth

2.) Aesthetic? 

rustic cabins, evergreens, mountain views, overflowing bookshelves

3.) Favorite musical/play? (If you’ve never seen a musical or play, one you’d be interested in seeing?

- 1776. That stupid song about the turkey being our national bird I just can’t.

4.) What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

- Before my senior prom my friends and I were walking through wal-mart before we went to the dance (as one does in a small redneck town) and I had this BIG POOFY pink dress with a crown and white gloves and as we were passing a woman with her little girl in the cart the little girl goes “MOMMY IT’S A PRINCESS!” and as they walked away I heard the mom go “Yeah honey you just saw a real live princess!” Best moment of my life hands down.

5.) How many times have you been in love?

- Once. Never again. I’ll stick to my celebrity boyfriends from here on out thank you.

6.) Embarrassing story or fact about yourself that makes you laugh now?

- I thought artichokes were animals until i was 17.

7.) Favorite Disney/Pixar movie?

- Emperor’s New Groove. It makes me laugh SO HARD.

8.) Favorite flower or plant?

- Tulips, orange or yellow

9.) What’s your favorite holiday?

- Thanksgiving. I love all the foods. After my parents got divorced my dad would make me thanksgiving dinner whenever I wanted it. Turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing the whole nine. 

10.) Name three things that made you laugh or smile this past week.

- Dumb tumblr posts

- getting my Stands shipment in the mail with my Misha Bear

- my cousin’s douchecanoe of a married boyfriend finally ended it so she can MOVE ON NOW. Poor kid.

11.) What song would you play to introduce yourself to someone?

- Sexyback by Justin Timberlake because I’m a huge JT fan and I make up for all my insecurities by faking arrogance.

12.) Name something that truly makes you feel peaceful even at your most stressed moments.

- Cuddling with one of my cats in my lap

13.) What do you, did you, or would you study at college?

- I got my BFA in graphic design from SCAD and I currently run the creative department at my company. We sell hardscape products and accessories like what’s in the HGTV Dream Home’s back yard every year. 

14.) This is kind of a weird one, but which outfit of yours makes you feel most like yourself?

- Jeans, graphic tee, Jordans and a leather jacket

15.) What is a quote you live by?

- "Never fall in love with an idea; they’re whores. If one isn’t getting the job done there’s always, always, always another one.” - Chip Kidd, The Cheese Monkeys

i have also recently started to follow “you’ve got to lighten up, it’s just life.”

16.) Name the funniest playlist name you have.

- “What’s Hot, DJ Roomba?” I don’t have many funny playlist names unfortunately. I did have a Destiel playlist at one point of which the subject line said, “These gay-ass cowboys are trying to kill me”

17.) Make a reference to an inside joke you have with someone you love with zero context.

- I’m tired, I’m cranky and my wife’s in argentina.

18.) What is a message you would give your younger self if given the chance?

- start practicing not giving a shit what anyone thinks of you RIGHT NOW because the sooner you get over the freer you’ll feel.

19.) Who is your favorite family member? (If you have no good blood family members, feel free to mention someone in your found family)

- my Granny. We’ve always been kindred spirits.

20.) What’s a secret dream of yours?

- It’s not really a secret but I’d love to move to NYC and be a book cover designer.

[curiositywrites]

* — answer the questions and tag followers you want to get to know better.

tagged by: @otherworldlywrites

age: 21!!

birthplace: a little town here in the US!

current time: 8:21pm

drink you last had: water (fun fact i really only drink coffee and water unless i’m like at a party)

mbti & moral alignment: okay i think i’m intj but not sure and umm i have never taken a moral alignment quiz

current favourite outfit: i don’t really have one?? but in quarantine i’ve been living in oversized tees and athletic shorts (am i wearing pants?? the world may never know)

favourite song: i can never have ONE favorite song but lennon stella’s new album has so many good ones and i really love golf on tv and since i was a kid

hogwarts house: ~slytherin~

in love: wow yes never thought i’d say that but very much so

colour: purple always for everything

love at first sight or walk around again: wait i don’t know what this means?

middle name: nicole

number of siblings: four half siblings and two step siblings!

favourite place in your neighbourhood: umm i don’t have one in my mom’s town bc i just do not like the area but at my dad’s i really like the vibe right by the high school? i don’t know why bc i didn’t go to school there but when i go for my run i always try to run by there. also in town is just pretty and there are a lot of flowers and trees

person you called last: my boyfriend on facetime bc long distance is hard and facetime makes it a little easier

question you are asked most?: ‘what kind of nurse do you want to be?’ or ‘what made you want to be a nurse?’

tv shows: i have so many uhh, the 100, TVD, legacies, this is us, currently watching avatar, anything that i tag on here really

last song you sang?: something from tik tok i don’t know what it was lolol

time you woke up: i woke up at like 9:30 but stayed in bed until after 10 lol

worst habit: nail biting!! lip picking!! 

favourite food: i LOVE breakfast. eggs, turkey sausage/bacon, some veggies, potatoes, yES

zodiac sign: aquarius

i tag: whoever wants to and you can say i tagged you if you wish!!

[aliciameade]

Baby - Ch. 13

Title: Baby Author: aliciameade Rating: *** M *** Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary:  That tearful kiss shared between Stephanie and Emily wasn't their first—and it certainly wasn't their last.

(Chapter 1)

Also on AO3

(You can buy me a ko-fi if you want to!)

Stephanie Smothers is a good person.

She reminds herself of this daily when she applies moisturizer at the bathroom mirror in the mornings and when she tucks her son into bed each night.

She’s made mistakes; nobody’s perfect. Some of them have been bigger than others, but that’s true for everyone. She doesn’t regret those mistakes. They’ve made her who she is today and she likes herself, for the most part. There are things she’s done that she knows if people knew about them, they’d expect her to be remorseful. Embarrassed, even.

What happened between Chris and her when they were teenagers is one of those things. She can rationalize away the judgment; they were both in mourning, they had an innate connection, there was intrigue in the way Chris looked so much like their father and Stephanie looked so much like her mother. There was a wedding photo of their shared parents on the fireplace mantle of her childhood home they’d gazed at together; it was almost spooky, the resemblances. They might have found it...kinky, in a way.

All of those things led to what transpired between them the day they met and the connection they felt was the reason it continued long enough for Stephanie to find herself knowingly pregnant by him while desperately clinging to a lie that it wasn’t his; it was her husband’s.

Her husband died angry knowing the truth.

That, she does regret. That she hadn’t been able to apologize for her dishonesty.

But she’d learned from an early age that when you loved someone, you should hold on to them. Do what you can to help them and support them and protect them. Try your best every day to make them happy even if you have to sacrifice your own happiness.

Even if that means doing something unsavory.

~ ~

~ ~

It’s business as usual for a time. Parent-teacher conferences. Miles and Nicky’s school holiday program (she sits with Emily—and Sean). Three weeks of the boys being on winter break and being a 24/7 stay-at-home mom. Sometimes she watches Nicky, too, and it’s more of an excuse for Emily and her to see one another than it is to give Sean a break from taking care of him all day.

Her Excel spreadsheet grows by the day as she plans. Phone numbers, names, addresses. Dates and times. Flight numbers. Dollar amounts.

Emily insists she hasn’t heard from Faith since Los Angeles whenever Stephanie asks. She wants to know if her sister is still demanding money, still threatening Nicky.

“I’m only trying to help,” she says when Emily gets upset.

“I know,” Emily replies with a sigh and some kind of physical contact. Stephanie’s never quite certain if it’s to indicate an apology for getting irritated or out of a need for comfort.

She decides it doesn’t really matter.

They eat leftover Thanksgiving turkey after they spend the holiday apart. They kiss under the many sprigs of mistletoe that Stephanie places throughout her home. They go to the winter carnival in the town square and Emily kisses her at the bottom of the ice slide while Nicky and Miles run up its stairs, in full view of everyone. No one seems to notice. Or if they do, the gossip never makes it back to them. Stephanie’s heart had been in her throat when Emily did that.

When the countdown on television reaches zero in Times Square, they kiss while their children sleep on the floor having failed in their valiant attempt to stay awake and ring in the new year.

They cook together. Shop together. Emily spends more and more time at Stephanie’s house and Stephanie can’t help but wonder what Sean thinks of it all. Her frequent absence must be glaringly obvious to him. She wonders if he thinks it means Emily’s just unhappy or if he might think there’s more to it than that.

She doesn’t dare ask Emily and she avoids crossing paths with Sean at all costs.

It’s the weekend after Valentine’s Day when Stephanie asks Emily to spend a Saturday night with her. It’s under the guise of having their own belated night of romance and Emily readily agrees. And while Stephanie plans to indulge in that wholeheartedly, she also has an ulterior motive.

~ ~

~ ~

“Hi, baby,” Emily says when she arrives. Her suit is a dark red, almost the color of blood, and Stephanie wonders if she chose it to acknowledge the recently passed holiday.

She leans up into Emily’s kiss, tugging on the lapels of her jacket to give herself a bit more lift.

“Mom?”

Miles’s voice cuts through their moment and she almost falls backward if not for Emily catching her by the elbow.

“Hey, buster, I thought you were picking out the toys you’re taking tonight?” she says as she tries to mask her panic. When she turns she finds Miles standing in the hall a few feet away, a Buzz Lightyear figure in one hand and an Iron Man in the other as if he had come to ask her opinion.

His face is full of uncertainty. “You’re kissing Emily?”

She hears Emily clear her throat and she doesn't know if it’s to speak, to not laugh, or out of discomfort. There’s no clarification from Emily and Stephanie has no choice but to respond.

“Just saying hello to my best friend,” she says as she hurries to him intent on ushering him back to his room to finish his part of packing to go spend the night at Emily’s house before Sean arrives. She doesn’t want Sean waiting in the house while he finishes.

“That was like when she kisses Nicky’s dad.” He seems curious more than anything as she takes both action figures and puts them into the overnight bag open on his bed.

She’s feared this for months. She knows Miles is a smart, observant child. She knows Emily and she aren’t always the most cautious when they’re together and away from other adults. They had been extremely prudent at first. They kept their distance, waited until any present children were distracted or absent before sharing words or touches that could prompt a question or a story that gets shared with a father.

It wasn’t always easy and they were growing careless as their comfort with one another grew. Their little escapade has grown into a full-blown love affair that’s lasted through autumn and into late winter. It felt so normal to pick up Nicky and Miles from school and often come home to find Emily already there and waiting, sometimes with a snack set out for the boys (sometimes it was even a healthy one) that it was difficult to not hold Emily’s hand while they stood side-by-side in the kitchen asking the boys about their day. It was difficult to not settle back into Emily’s arms the moment they sat together on the couch and the boys shared the bean bag chair. More often than not, she gave in.

It isn’t her fault that she can’t resist being close to Emily the moment Emily opens herself to her and invites her in with something as simple as a touch. It isn’t her fault that more than once she falls asleep there in Emily’s arms on the couch only to be stirred awake either by Emily or Miles when it’s time for bed.

It isn’t her fault that sometimes they forget to be as quiet as they should be when spending the night together with one or both of the boys in the house.

Stephanie is confident Miles has no idea what any such sounds mean; he’s too young to really understand sex and she doesn’t have plans to teach him about it with any kind of specificity for at least another year unless he asks a question that warrants it.

His ignorance, however, doesn’t assuage the fear boiling up inside her as he still seems to be thinking about what he witnessed. Nor does she know how much Nicky knows about sex and what he might be teaching Miles.

“Sometimes grown-ups like to kiss each other,” she says in response to his statement. She desperately wants to avoid lying to her son. Telling the truth isn’t an option; Miles is too young to be trusted to keep such a secret if she tells him she loves Emily that way. “Do you want to take anything else tonight?” Her hands refuse to be idle and she straightens his bedding needlessly.

“Nicky says you and his mom like to wrestle.” His voice is timid, as though he knows he’s sharing some type of secret information.

Her hands slow their smoothing of his comforter. That is a much more direct statement than commenting on a kiss. Much less simple to explain away than it being a greeting. “Nicky told you that?” she says, hoping her worry doesn’t come through in her voice as she stands and turns to him. “What else did Nicky tell you?”

“Just that you like to wrestle,” he says with a shrug. “Can I bring Unikitty, too?”

Stephanie sighs in relief at his continued innocence and the change of topic. She’s making her way toward the net suspended in the corner of his room that serves as the home for his many stuffed toys to retrieve it when she sees Emily in his doorway. Her entire outfit has been changed; the burgundy suit is gone and she’s wearing a worn-out tee from Barnard College that is a size too small and a pair of black yoga pants, one of which used to belong to Stephanie and both of which reside in a drawer that, at some point, became home to several items belonging to Emily.

“Who likes to wrestle?”

Stephanie’s not even finished reacting to Emily’s very, very poorly timed arrival and topic return when Miles is relaying what he’s just told Stephanie, to which Emily replies, “We sure do!” with a grin.

She rushes into the room, hands out to grab Miles and pick him up and crash them playfully onto his bed. “What about you?” she says as her tickling fingers make him squeal with laughter. “Do you like to wrestle?”

Stephanie watches it play out: Emily rough-housing with Miles in a way she never was good at, making him shriek and laugh and move on from his curiosity by letting him win. She doesn’t surrender too quickly, though, letting him have a good battle until, with his head in her stomach like a battering ram, he gets her onto her back to flop across her middle and pin her and declare himself the victor.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Emily brushes away a tear as she bends to kiss her cheek, Miles’s packed bag in her hand, to lead him out to wait for Sean and Nicky to pick him up.

Embarrassed, she finishes drying her eyes and follows. They end up in the living room and, to her surprise, Emily claims the bean bag chair instead of her usual spot on the couch and pulls Miles down to pile in next to her.

“Are you and Nicky going to finish your secret project?” she asks him in a stage whisper.

“What secret project?” Stephanie asks as she takes a seat on the couch. Her stomach feels floppy and her heart doesn’t seem to know where it should position itself in her chest. This is too real, too normal, too domestic.

Emily smiles at her and starts to say something but she’s cut off by Miles desperately and loudly shushing her to the point of clapping both of his hands over her mouth.

“It’s a secret!” he emphasizes, eyes wide in panic as he stares at Emily.

Stephanie has to try not to laugh (and cry) at the reaction. “You know we don’t keep secrets in this house, Smooch,” she scolds, but there’s no authority behind the statement and she knows it. She also knows she’s a big fat hypocrite.

She watches Emily twist her neck to free her mouth. “Maybe ‘surprise project’ is a better name for it. What do you think, bud?”

“Surprise project?” he says, as though he’s trying the phrase on for size. He nods. “Okay.”

“And I don’t get to know about this surprise project?”

“If you did, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Duhhhh,” Miles says with a dramatic eye roll.

Stephanie lets the “duh” slide in favor of...everything that’s happening right now. “Right, of course. When do I get to know what the surprise project is?”

Her question is met with a tight-lipped smile and a shrug from Miles; she looks to Emily for an answer only to see her copy his response.

It’s so adorable she could cry. Again. “I can’t have you two ganging up on me.”

“Oh, baby,” Emily says with a teasing pout, “don’t worry. I promise you’ll like it.”

Miles nods in agreement, still mum on the matter as though if he speaks he’ll ruin the surprise. His eyes light up a second later at the sound of a car in the driveway and he’s climbed out of the chair and is halfway to the door before Stephanie’s even made it to her feet.

“What are you guys cooking up?” Stephanie asks as she offers her hand to Emily to pull her up out of the low chair.

“You’ll see,” Emily says with a sly smile as she ducks down to touch her lips to Stephanie’s, hands still clasped.

They follow Miles who has the self-restraint to wait at the door instead of sprinting to Sean’s car in youthful excitement of a sleepover with his buddy.

Emily squeezes her hand. “I’ll walk him out.”

Stephanie looks up at her, a shared understanding between them. “Thank you,” she says before crouching and opening her arms. “Come give me a hug, Smooch!” She wraps him up in a bear hug when he does. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She sits back on her heels and hears Emily say, “Ready to go, little man?” A hand ruffling his curls comes with it and it makes Miles laugh.

It also makes him look up at her and say, “Love you,” before letting himself out of the house.

“Love you, too,” Emily replies without pause as she steps away from Stephanie to follow him out the door, barefoot.

Stephanie feels dizzy like she’s in a parallel universe where she married and had a child with a woman named Emily and not a man named Davis...or Chris. It’s not as though she wasn’t aware that Emily cared for Miles. They’d grown closer over the months just as she and Emily had. It was inevitable, really, when Emily was becoming more and more a mainstay in their lives. Some weeks they spent more days together than apart. Emily was becoming a provider, a caregiver. She’d tuck him into bed, sometimes with Stephanie, sometimes by herself.

She even volunteered in his and Nicky’s classroom a few weeks ago. Stephanie was certain she’d never seen jaws drop so quickly when Darren, Stacy, and Sona walked in to pick up their children that afternoon to see Emily in semi-casual clothing cleaning up the aftermath of a fingerpainting session.

So it shouldn’t knock her off her feet this much to witness Emily taking on what can only be labeled as a parental role in Miles’s life. She knows she’s done the same with Nicky, though he spends more time with Sean than he does Stephanie unlike how much time Miles spends with Emily.

She’s still kneeling when Emily returns. She looks so light and fresh-faced Stephanie doesn’t know how she looks so happy living this double life. She doesn’t have time to ponder on it, though; her mind is too preoccupied with the shared moments between Emily and Miles to think about that right now.

Emily’s smiling as she locks the door and hits all three switches to kill the porch, foyer, and kitchen lights. “What are you doing on the floor, baby?” she says as she strides toward her and extends her hand. “Come on; it’s time to get you out of these clothes.”

~ ~

~ ~

“This isn’t what I had in mind when you said you were getting me out of my clothes.” Stephanie glances down at the tank top and shorts she’s been changed into. Emily had led her to the bedroom and Stephanie’s body had come alive at the familiar route, the only thing able to overcome her emotional response to domestic bliss.

She’d been sorely disappointed only to be handed clothes to put back on as soon as Emily had stripped her naked while sharing nothing but a soft kiss or two while she politely rebuffed Stephanie’s wandering hands.

But she can wait; the overwhelming, almost uncontrollable lust that sparked their affair has, after so many months, settled into burning embers instead of a roaring fire. Constant, quiet, yet hotter than the flames that birthed it. She can wait because she knows it will be amazing when they come back to it later.

“Come on,” Emily says before biting her bottom lip and tugging Stephanie back toward the living room. She seems so happy and relaxed all Stephanie can do is smile and follow until she’s being pulled down onto the couch.

“What exactly are you up to?” she asks as Emily puts on some romantic comedy. It’s a bit of a surprise, Emily choosing such a thing, but she’s been working on stopping herself from assuming anything whatsoever about the woman.

“I want to just sit here and make out with you.” Emily smiles as she says it and Stephanie’s being pulled into her lap before she even finishes responding to it.

It’s so easy, so natural to sink into Emily. She’s been doing it for months and, frankly, it’s never been difficult, even from Day One. Emily had kissed her and hesitated in pulling away and Stephanie had melted.

She melts again now as she slips her arms around Emily’s neck to kiss her. It’s slow and hot and all the things that make her heart pound and toes curl and it’s only kissing, but she’s sure that kissing alone could be enough to be satisfying if it’s all they ever shared physically.

But she’s really glad they share a lot more than kisses.

“You just want to make out?” she asks with a nudge of her nose against Emily’s. “During a movie in the dark like we’re teenagers?”

Emily’s hands sweep under the edge of Stephanie’s shirt and brush over warm skin and she kisses her again before she responds. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Stephanie mumbles against her lips. She edges her kiss a bit more aggressive and fails at hiding the shiver that follows Emily’s quiet moan.

“Maybe I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.” Emily’s hands roam a little more but never toward intimate territory.

Stephanie sighs at the confession and tightens her arms and leans back to entice Emily to lie down with her.

She resists so Stephanie whines and Emily’s hands finally slip down to her ass and squeeze it in wordless reply to her protest.

“But I want you on top of me.” Stephanie tries again, letting most of her weight pull at Emily’s shoulders in hope that her lack of subtly will do the trick.

She gets excited when Emily begins to lean with her but then she sits back again. “I’ll be on top of you later.”

Stephanie groans at the words and tries to stand up with the intent to drag Emily to her bedroom to experience just that but Emily keeps her rooted in place on her lap. “Why are you making us wait?” She runs her hands up under Emily’s adopted college tee and palms the soft, bare flesh beneath it to try to tempt her. However, she seems unfazed.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” Emily says with the pouty tone that Stephanie once found mildly condescending but now only finds incredibly hot. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

Words like that are why she finds it hot so she nods. There are no more words after that for a while save for those of the movie that is playing in the background. The desperate arousal that began to spike wanes to a simmer again and Stephanie relaxes, content (for now) to share the slow, lazy kisses that promise so much more yet to come.

It distracts her from her goal for the night. It’s not until they’re in bed, breathless and recovering and she’s saying, “I love you, too,” that she remembers it.

She takes one more beat while Emily rolls off her to lay side by side, spent from their mutual release, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey, Em?” she says after clearing her throat.

Emily hums in response.

“Can we talk?”

There’s a pause, and then, “No good conversation ever begins with those words.”

Stephanie laughs nervously. “No, no. I promise it’s not like that.” It’s not like that at all and she feels bad she might have sparked such a worry in Emily. She also relishes the fact that such a thing is even possible: make Emily worry she was going to have The Talk.

She hears Emily take a breath. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” It’s Stephanie’s turn to take a breath. “Um, I’ve been thinking—”

“About?”

“I want to be with you. For real, I mean.”

There’s another lengthy pause and Emily doesn’t say anything, but she does find Stephanie’s hand and link their fingers.

“I’m tired of pretending we’re something that we’re not. I’m tired of worrying that someone might find out and what might happen if they do. I’m tired of-of sharing you.” She notices her heart is racing when she stops talking; she hadn’t realized what it would feel like to admit those things out loud.

“Are you asking me to get a divorce? Because I can’t. We don’t have a prenup; Sean will take half of what I’ve managed to keep him from spending.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“Then what are you asking me to do?”

Stephanie takes another deep breath. “I want us to...run away together.”

There’s more silence followed by a bark of laughter. “We can’t just run away together, baby. Are you crazy?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it and—”

“You’ve been thinking about it?” Emily sounds amused in the darkness, but at least she doesn’t sound mad.

“Did you and Sean ever take out those life insurance policies?”

The question hangs in the air for a few extra seconds. “Yes,” Emily answers slowly. “We’re not going to kill Sean for the insurance money. Are you fucking crazy?”

“No, no, of course not!” Stephanie rushes.

“Then stop beating around the bush, Dark Side. What have you been plotting in that brain of yours?”

“Have you heard from Faith lately?” She asks the question tentatively; it’s always a sensitive topic, and for good reason.

“What? What does she have to do with any—” Emily stops mid-word.

“Is she still threatening you?” Stephanie continues. “Extorting you? Threatening Nicky?”

“Why are you bringing her up right now?”

Stephanie thinks about the one and only photograph Emily ever showed Stephanie of her and her sister as teenagers. “You’re identical, right? That means fingerprints, DNA...”

“They figured out how to tell the difference between identical twins’ DNA.”

“And you’ve been paying attention to that research because…?” Stephanie’s on thin ice with this entire conversation and while she knows it, it seems as though it might only be a shallow pond to fall into should it crack. “I know you’re going to think I’m crazy—”

“No, but I think whatever you’re about to say is probably crazy.”

“What if…” She takes a steadying breath and hopes Emily doesn’t do something like call the police. “What if you invited Faith to visit you here and...and what if Emily Nelson was found murdered in her own home?” She holds her breath and feels Emily sit up next to her, can see her looming tall in the near darkness.

“Did you just suggest killing my sister?”

“She torments you.” Stephanie tries to resist the urge to backpedal and say it’s a terrible idea but she knows it’s really not, other than the parts about murder and insurance fraud. “All she does is cause you grief. She threatens to ruin your life, to hurt Nicky. And you’re not happy here, Em, I know it. We could do it and your life insurance would help us get resettled somewhere with the boys, and—”

“If I’m dead, how do we have the insurance money? Sean’s my beneficiary.”

It takes Stephanie a second to realize Emily hasn’t thrown her out of her own house at her outlandish and highly illegal plan that involves killing her own flesh and blood. “Change it to me.”

“What?!” Emily scoffs.

“Don’t tell Sean; you don’t have to tell a beneficiary that you removed them from a policy. I’ll collect it and when Sean challenges it I’m going to explain that I know about the affair he’s been having with his T.A. I’ll say you were planning to leave him so you changed it in case he tried to hurt you once you told him because I’m your best friend and I’m the only person you could still trust to care for Nicky.

But if we do this right, I won’t have to tell him anything because as soon as your body is found, I’ll tell the police that he was cheating on you and refusing to let you out of your emotionally abusive marriage and that I knew you were planning to ask for a divorce and that he must have snapped when you told him.

We’ll need to start the paperwork to make me Nicky’s legal guardian. Sean will never sign it but if we’re halfway there when you die and he gets arrested for your murder it will be easy for me to petition the court to push it through. Sean will be in prison. Emily Nelson will be dead. I will gain custody and then Stephanie Smothers will disappear.”

“You’re going to fake your death, too?”

“I’m going to disappear on a nature walk with the boys as soon as I have the money and custody. You disappeared and changed your identity once; you can do it again and do it for all of us. New names, new social security numbers, new passports. You’ll leave the country as soon as Faith is gone and we’ll join you as soon as we can.”

There’s an excruciating length of silence and all she can hear is her own quick breath, the adrenaline of revealing her plot making her blood rush.

“All this so we can be together?” Emily finally says.

Stephanie sits up and moves close, kissing Emily’s bare shoulder. “I’d move mountains to wake up next to you every day.” Emily’s hand has remained in hers the entire conversation but it shakes loose now only to relocate to rest on Stephanie’s thigh.

“I should just divorce him.”

It’s the first real admission that Emily wants to leave Sean and the weight of that drives Stephanie to keep kissing her wherever she can reach. Not in a frantic way, but soft, warm kisses on the curve of her shoulder and the length of her upper arm. “You’ll never escape her, Em,” she says quietly. “If we’re to be together, I don’t want her haunting us. I can’t put Miles in danger.”

She feels Emily’s fingertips tickling her inner thigh in the way she does when she’s hinting at touching her with more purpose. Stephanie can’t quite believe she would be in such a mood in the middle of this conversation, even if they are having it naked and in bed. But the way her own body responds to it, how her knee tilts a bit toward Emily in a way that is inviting, makes her feel guilty for whatever judgment she was about to pass.

“You’d really kill for me?”

Stephanie reaches to touch Emily’s chin and turn her face toward her and down into a kiss. She holds it for several seconds, lips simply touching. She doesn’t know how she arrived at this place in her life to have this conversation. To even consider such a possibility. She doesn’t stop to wonder why Emily isn’t horrified by any of it.

Stephanie Smothers is a good person.

She nods and pulls Emily’s hand higher between her legs. “Anything.”

~ ~

~ ~

(Chapter 14)