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yikeswtfmate · 5 years ago

Text

Eat, Pray, Kill

Summary: Y/N has been missing, but when she comes back, Bucky might be the one to kill her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: swearing; references of violence; references of murder

A/N: uhhhhhh listen..........i was working on those wips i told you about but this just happened in half an hour, ok? no responsibility should be my motto

Prompts: No. 5 from here! and this one from here!

masterlist

Y/N can’t breathe. Her body is currently trapped in what feels like a steel capsule, seemingly intent on crushing every single bone in her torso. There’s a small cough that escapes her lips, although she can’t be sure anyone can hear her considering her face is completely distorted, nose smashed into an unnatural angle, and what the fuck is that smell? Is that cologne?

“Listen, I enjoy this hug and all, but can you stop?” Her voice comes out more than muffled, but suddenly she’s free from Bucky’s arms, her vision full of his chest, which is still too close to trust he’d not trap her again.

“Fuck, I forgot how strong you actually are.” Which is stupid, because he’s literally pumped with super soldier serum, but she sometimes chooses to forget that tiny detail whenever she feels like fighting him.

“Where have you been?” Bucky demands, and there it is. That flash of hurt in his eyes, that made her stay away for so long. If it weren’t for the fact that she had to literally crawl into the Avengers Tower, bleeding to death all over Stark’s precious lobby, she wouldn’t have had to face that disappointment just yet.

“Yeah, I just thought I’d take the day off. You know, that whole mental health thing or whatever.” The IV tube nearly slips out when she slams back into the pillows, but she ignores it, together with Bucky’s pointed look of warning.

“You’ve been missing for two months.”

“Yeah, well, Buck, sometimes a lady goes through that special week of the month and then it just spirals into a whole thing where there are a shit ton of knives and guns involved, you know? I just needed to recharge and reconnect with my own soul.”

“By going on a killing spree around the globe?” Bucky crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, and Y/N has to admit that he’d actually look intimidating if it weren’t for the fact that that chair is so small, he looks like fucking Gulliver in it. “I’ve seen the news.”

“I’ve been detoxing?” She tries again, with a shrug of her shoulder.

“Y/N, I’m serious. What the fuck got into you? They’re calling you a vigilante now.”

“Fine, look, Bucky. I’ll tell you the truth, ok?” Bucky sighs, but eventually leans forward in his seat, a fucking bear in a hamster’s chair. “I was watching Eat, Pray, Love one night and I wanted to see what that shit’s all about.”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N!” He stands up, toppling the chair upside down which now look like a doll’s throne? Why the fuck do I care about that chair so much, she wonders. Bucky paces in front of the bed, strands falling out of his stupid bun, and Y/N wants to comment he should dye it white and become a Witcher, but then she remembers the fossil still thinks Netflix is a brand of chips.

“Do you know how worried I was?” Here we go, she thinks, letting her head fall back with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve been going sick wondering what happened to you. I thought you were kidnapped when I got to your apartment the first night, until I noticed you actually packed a bag and then hey, look, Buck, your girlfriend just abandoned you without a word because she’s so sick of you already! Had the luck of realising you’re a fucking idiot and were up to some shit, before beating myself up, wondering if it’s my fault and let you come to your senses by yourself. But then guess what! Oh shit, man, look, she’s on the news killing some Mafia guy in fucking Sicily. Then a week later Steve comes up to me and tells me you’ve killed a whole entire village in China and then Sam says ‘wasn’t she in Brazil yesterday up in those gangsters’ business?’ So imagine my shock when Nat lets me know you’re up in Med Bay being stitched up because you almost had your right side obliterated!”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, together we would’ve made an entire functional person if it were obliterated.”

Bucky just looks at her incredulously. He sometimes wants to drill some sense into her, but for all the years he’s known her, he’s aware that there’s nothing he could do to change her. It’s like being in a relationship with Steve, if Steve were even more obnoxious and stubborn. Like a mule…or a drunk monkey. Or a baby that refuses to go to sleep.

With a sigh, he lays down on the bed next to her, after she reluctantly scoots over. His head on her arm, she kisses his forehead, but he doesn’t miss the middle finger raised in defiance, just for good measure, as she’d probably claim.

“Thanks for letting me deal with my shit on my own.” She whispers a few moments later.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy to keep my distance, especially when you’re that bad at covering your tracks.”

“You’re just good at tracking me, babe.”

“No, Y/N.” Bucky raises his head, a concerned look on his face. “Seriously, you’re shit at it. I knew what you were doing at every single moment in time.”

“Oh yeah, pick on the sick person now. Low move, considering you put a tracking device in my necklace that morning, you fuck.”

“You knew about that?” Bucky nearly stammers, but the yawn she lets out should be indication enough that she doesn’t really care.

“Buck, babe, do you seriously believe I would’ve left you without a word if I didn’t know you could find me at any moment?” She pokes his cheek with her finger, but Bucky grabs her hand and kisses her palm, closing his eyes at the feeling of having her next to him again.

“In my defence, you were going on a mission with Clint and you’re both idiots. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get lost in the Alps.”

“Sure, babe. You better take it out before I get out of here or I’ll cut your good arm.” He nods in assent and cuddles back into her side. Her fingers brush through his now loose hair, and he swears that nothing ever felt as good as that does now.

“I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.” He murmurs.

“Missed you too. Now let me sleep.”

***

Taglist:

@miss-nerd95 | @myboyfriendgiriboy | @littleblackdressxx | @minbeatriz16 | @lunarmalfoy

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes drabble

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always5hineee · 4 years ago

Text

The Final Bell - Chapter 3: Baby Doll

Chapter warnings: none

Word count: 1840

Story is also available under Taffysamg on Quotev and Wattpad.

To see the full chapter list, go to the “Final Bell” Tab on my page.

-----

Y/N stared out the window, unsettled by what she saw. Everything was dry and windy, and the air was heavy. While she knew pollution must be down, everything had that solid tension about it. Taeyong and Taeil were making small talk, but she wasn't particularly listening. Every now and then, they'd pass an abandoned vehicle or a pile of trash, but aside from that she noticed no signs of life. While she was lost in thought, she was brought to attention by a voice.

"...Y/N!" She sat up quickly, looking around. Taeyong was staring at her intently.

"Sorry, I was... thinking."

"It's fine- I was just trying to let you know that we're here." He said, pointing towards the windshield. Sure enough, there was a small campsite in front of them as they slowed to a stop. There were two tents, a few boxes, a small grill, and a black Toyota Tundra. She was nervous to meet this character, but didn't want to show it in front of her two associates. Stepping out of the van, they walked into the center of the space.

"Hold on." Taeil said to her, moving to the tent on the right. Stomping in the dirt next to the structure, he said, "Johnny! We're here." After a bit of rustling, the front unzipped, and a man stepped out.

He was certainly taller than anyone she had met so far- six feet if she had to guess. He had defined features and faded red hair, although- like Taeil- it was evidently not his real hair color. He was definitely thin, but stronger than Taeyong and Taeil. He wore a pair of old jeans, a green shirt, and a leather vest, with combat boots to match. Out of all of this, though, one thing in particular caught her off guard.

His left arm- or rather, where his left arm should have been- there was a purple, twitching appendage, sewed on with black surgical stitches. While it's nails were clean and the flesh seemed to be staying on fairly well, it was unmistakable: a zombie arm.

She involuntarily stepped back, but before she could move away, he grabbed her wrists, holding her arms above her head and turning her in various directions.

"Hmm, interesting." He eyed her up and down, mentally measuring her. "I'm sure I can find something that fits you." Uncomfortable, she jerked her arms, ripping them away from his grip. He looked surprised for a moment, before his face settled into a questioning grin.

"What's the matter? Can't you talk?" She tried to say something in return, but only managed to open her mouth slightly. Staring at her for another moment, his expression shifted to understanding.

"Ah, I see. You think I'm turning." He waved his purple arm. "I assure you, sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about." Pointing to the stitching with his good hand, he said, "This isn't my real arm. I made her myself. The wound is closed underneath, so quit your shaking." Well if that wasn't the riskiest thing she'd ever seen, she didn't know what was.

"What happened to your real arm?" She managed to mutter. He laughed, reaching up to touch her face with his left hand. The skin was disgustingly cold, leaving a tingling feeling wherever it touched. She knew it was probably in her head, but she already felt infected as he felt her face.

"I cut it off." He whispered playfully. Backing up and spinning on his heel, he pretended as if he had not just been incredibly creepy. "Keeps you on your toes, you know? Reminds you how fleeting this all is. It does have a mind of its own, though." He admitted, evidenced by its twitching. She was more than uncomfortable at this point, staring at the seam between his human and undead bodies. So he had... cut off his own arm, and sewed on this zombie one, for fun? Or as he called it, a 'reminder'. This dude was unhinged.

"Quit messing around, Johnny." Taeyong said, stepping in and pulling her back. Thankfully, his hands were warm, and undoubtedly human. "We just need new clothes for her, all our stuff at camp doesn't fit well."

"Yes, yes, I know. Like I said, I'm sure I have a few things her size. So demanding. You won't be leader for long if you act like that."

"I'm not the leader." Taeyong muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and shifting his glare."

"Sure. Anyway, I'll return momentarily. Feel free to look around." He offered, turning to Y/N. "You can go wherever, but just be prepared for what you find." With a wink that sent a shiver up her spine, he moved towards the back of the setup to open a box.

"Don't mind him." Taeil said, sensing her discomfort. "He's just strange like that. Plus, he's probably upset that we didn't bring Mark." She had practically forgotten about Mark at this point- she hadn't seen him since they exited the van the first time. Assumedly, he had gone to his own tent.

"Why would he care?" She asked. "Are they related, or friends, or something?" Taeil shook his head.

"Not exactly. Mark's just his favorite for some reason. He's never explained it to us. Still, Taeyong doesn't like them to be together for too long. I think he's worried that Johnny will make too much of an impression." That made sense. Mark seemed like a nice dude, and she couldn't imagine what Johnny could do if he got a complete hold on him. Before Taeyong could cut in to explain further, Johnny returned.

"Here, I found four complete outfits of your size. It's not exactly ideal, but it's all that'll fit. I guess you guys will just start doing laundry more often, or suffer with ill-fitting attire. There are also two pairs of shoes, some makeup if you're into that, and some sanitary stuff." Holding out a bag, she reluctantly took it. As much as she hated it, it was all stuff she needed. "I also threw a few sets of earrings in there. Wouldn't want your piercings to close up."

She breathed in sharply. In the few seconds that he had looked at her, he not only assessed her exact sizes, but the fact that she had piercings as well? Not only that, but she didn't actually have jewelry in at the moment, meaning that he had noticed the tiny holes. He was unnervingly observant, to say the least.

"Do you need any earrings, boys? You've both had those studs in for quite a while."

"We're fine." Taeil said shortly. Johnny sighed, almost like an annoyed child.

"Shame. You two are so boring. Still, that reminds me-" He addressed Y/N directly again. "I can do pretty much any tattoo or piercing you might want, just let me know." Scrunching her gaze, she questioned,

"Can you do a clean tattoo without proper equipment?" Johnny feigned offense.

"My, do you have no faith? I happen to have done plenty of tattoos post-disaster. In fact, I've done more than a few for your friends over there. Speaking of which-" he walked over to drape his arms across the boys' shoulders. "Is she planning on matching you all?"

"Matching?" She asked. Clearly without asking them first, Johnny grabbed both their shirts. Pulling up Taeyong's sleeve and the bottom hem of Taeil's shirt, he revealed very similar tattoos. Each was in a delicate script, a list of some kind. Looking closer, she read them.

Taeyong

Jaehyun

Yuta

WinWin

Haechan

Mark

Doyoung

Taeil

Jungwoo

Johnny

The final two names were slightly brighter, alluding to the fact that they had been added later. The line through WinWin's name was also a bright shade.

"Do all of you have these?" She asked, eliciting a nod from both of them.

"We debated on the line, but decided that it would be appropriate. We'll be using it if, god forbid, anything happens to anyone else. Johnny added himself when we went to get Jungwoo added." Taeyong shot an annoyed look at him. "Still, he helps us out, so I have no right to complain."

"So, will you be adding this lovely lady to your ranks?" Johnny asked, dropping their clothing from his fists.

"I'd have to talk to everyone, but maybe if she sticks around." He glanced over. "Have you gotten a tattoo since all this started?" He asked. She shook her head. She was already dreading the idea of having Johnny's dead hand anywhere near her, not to mention a discomfort around needles. She would definitely have to think about it.

"Well, I'm always ready to ink someone up." He concluded, gesturing to Taeil again. "I've done more than a few of his little art pieces." She had to admit, the tattoos covering his body were very skillful. Everything fell silent for a moment, but she was brought to attention by the clap of a hand.

"So! To discuss my payment." Johnny smiled, causing her stomach to drop.

"Payment?" Of course. No one gives anyone anything for free. What kind of payment did a psycho like this take?

"Yes, honey, payment. I have to survive out here! Generally one earns something through the exchange of goods-" He snaked a hand around her waist, causing her to shiver again. "And/or services."

"You owe us, Johnny." Taeyong said matter-of-factly, gently brushing him off and dragging Y/N back to where he was standing. "We saved your ass when you were clean out of food and three seconds off from getting eaten alive." He put a hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"Oh, so you're cashing in for the little lady? He must really like you." He said with a shrug. "That's a shame, baby doll, but you'll be back. I look forward to it- you're intriguing." Leading her away from Johnny's camp, Taeil and Taeyong brought her to the van, facing away from the man. Still, he called,

"Nice meeting you, sweetheart!"

"Her name is Y/N." Taeyong shot back. "Have some decency." And with that, they got in and began their drive back home. She watched out the back window as Johnny simply stood, staring as they drove into the distance. He stood stone still until Y/N could no longer make out his figure.

"I'm sorry if that was strange." Taeyong murmured apologetically. "I know he's not... ideal. Still, he generally has anything we might need, and honestly I don't know if we'd have made it without him. I would have talked to him myself, but he needed your size." She shook her head, trying to seem unfazed.

"It's fine."

"You'll only have to go again if you need a tattoo or something, other than that you can stay behind if you'd like." She nodded. She didn't really feel like talking anymore, and both the boys respected that. They had maybe an hour left on their three hour prognosis, so things would be busy when they returned. She wondered if she could find some monotonous task to help with to take her mind off the afternoon's events.

Go to Chapter 4

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stories-sometimes · 5 years ago

Text

Bedtime Stories

40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You tell your son the story of his father.

Word Count: 1972

Masterlist

~~~

“Can you tell me about Dad?” Her eight year old son asks as she tucks him into his bed. She was aware that this question would come eventually, but wasn’t fully prepared for it. She waits a second before starting the story, composing herself.

“He was an amazing man, one of the bravest people I’ve met. And he fought for us and everyone else you know to have a safer life. He was fiercely loyal, protected those around him. Sometimes he could come off as cocky, but really it was a facade, he was nothing like that once you knew him.” She smiles at his memory, thinking back to the time she first met him. Initially she wasn’t fond of him, brushing him off as another arrogant ladies man, used to getting his way with a few smooth words.

~~~

“What’s a pretty dame like you doing here all alone.” She heard his voice for the first time. She'd gone to the dance hall with her friend, although the girl soon abandoned her for a date. She opted to reside at the edge of the room, perched on a bench wishing she’d stayed at home. She looked up to see him. He was tall, well dressed, too handsome for his own good. She'd seen guys like him before, overly-confident, a new girl every week - she was determined not to be one of them.

“Trying to avoid guys like you.” She retorted.

“Well what’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, a smirk growing as he sat down next to her.

“I’ve dealt with guys like you too many times, you play around with all the girls, but never stick around. You sir, are a heartbreaker.” He gasped, placing his hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

“How do you know that? You’ve only just met me.”

“You look the type.”

“Tell me about that type.”

“They’re always tall, strong,” She said, running her hand up his muscular arm, just because she didn’t want to be with him didn’t mean she couldn’t tease him a little. “Far too good-looking.” That boosted his ego, she reached up a little so she could whisper her last point in his ear, “and they know exactly what to say to get any girl on their knees.” His breath hitched as she sat back down. It became her turn to smirk, knowing she'd got him to react how she wanted.

“You doll are a grade-A tease.” He replied in an attempt to regain his composure and the upper-hand.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just saying what I see.” She continued the teasing.

“So you’re saying I could get you on your knees.” He grinned, clearly enjoying where this conversation was going. She looked him up and down, smiling without giving him a definite answer. She kept the innocent look in her eyes she’d managed to master, conflicting with the flirtatious smile on her face.

“You’re trouble,” He stated, she cocked her head to the side, keeping up the sweet act, “don’t pretend you don’t know it. Bet you leave a trail of hearts in your pretty little wake.”

“Your compliments aren’t gonna work on me.”

“Worth a shot. But don’t try to change the subject. You’re the kind of girl who acts all innocent, sitting here, looking all gorgeous. When in reality you’re as bad as the guys who chase after you.” She smiled subconsciously, unsure of how she should’ve reacted.

“You’ve read me wrong.” She responded.

“Have I?” He brought back that smirk. “How about I get you a drink?”

“I’d love one.” He left to grab them, but she’d vanished before he returned.

~~~

“The second time I saw him I decided to give him a chance, best decision I ever made.”

~~~

She strolled into her usual cafe, ordering a drink before settling into a seat. Only a few minutes had passed before she heard the door chime, she glanced to see who’d come in. Shit. It was the man from the dance hall, accompanied by a smaller man. She immediately looked away from them, praying he wouldn’t notice her. Just her luck, they had sat directly behind her, the only silver lining being that the man was faced away from her, less likely to spot me if she didn’t draw any attention to herself.

“I’m tellin’ you Steve she was perfect.” She overheard him say to his friend.

“Bucky you just meet her, you don’t even know her name.” So that’s his name.

“And still she hasn’t left my mind. She was like my perfect dream, looked like an angel and knew exactly what to say. But she disappeared too soon.”

His friend groaned, “Why are you gettin’ all dizzy over a girl who clearly isn’t that into you?”

“If you saw her and she talked to you like she did, you’d get where I was coming from.” She listened intently to the rest of their chat. Maybe she was wrong about him, maybe he wasn’t the player she thought he was, maybe she could try it out. Fuck it, she was gonna give him a chance. She scribbled down my name and home’s telephone number, dropping it down in front of Bucky as she walked out. She winked playfully over her shoulder as he recognised her, watching starstruck, but still she didn’t stay as long as he would’ve wanted.

“Who isn’t that into me now.” She heard him brag to his friend as she walked out the door. She giggled, a stupid grin grew on her face. He wasn’t so bad.

She got my first call that evening.

“Hey doll, it’s Bucky.”

“Hey mister, someone’s impatient, couldn’t even wait 24 hours to call.”

“What can I say, you’ve sure as hell left an impression on me. Have you eaten yet?”

“No, not yet.” She replied.

“Good, cause I’m taking you out.”

“And why would you think I’d say yes?”

“You wouldn’t have given me your number if I didn’t have a chance, plus I’m paying for your food.” There he went again with the confidence.

“Alright then.”

“Yes!” She heard an over-excited shout down the phone line.

“But only because I want a free meal.”

“I’m sure that’s why. I’ll pick you up at eight.” She gave him my address before she hung up. Sge searched through her wardrobe to find a suitable enough outfit, suddenly caring about what he thought about her. When eight rolled around she found herself far more excited then she thought she'd be. He knocked on the door, looking as dashing as ever.

“Hey doll, you ready.”

“Guess if I have to be.” She shrugged, lying through her teeth, this is exactly where she wanted to be.

“How long are you gonna play hard to get, you like me enough to agree to a date, but still you act like you don’t want me.” He smirked, watching as her cheeks started to glow red.

~~~

“He took me out for a meal, then we walked around in the moonlight for hours. Everything felt so perfect, we were young, happy and fell in love faster than I ever thought I possibly could. He would keep his friends safe as well. You know Captain America wasn’t always as strong as he used to be.”

“Really.” Her son says, looking confused.

“He used to be this skinny, sickly little kid. But that didn’t stop he standing up to anyone he saw treating people wrong. Your Dad was constantly pulling him out of fights. ” She stands up, grabbing an old photo album from the hallway. “There he is.” She points to a much smaller Steve.

“No way.” It was a picture of them at a carnival, Steve was awkwardly smiling next to her whilst she had a bright grin plastered on her face, holding onto a large teddy from one of the booths. “That’s my bear.” He says, pulling it from the side of his bed and into his chest.

“Your Dad won that for me and I know he would have wanted you to have it. He was so excited when he found out about you.”

~~~

She knocked on Bucky’s door, shaking with nerves. It was confirmed - she was pregnant. A little scandalous, they were engaged but not yet married, she knew some would look down upon it. It was due to a celebration from when he proposed, both too caught up in the excitement of the moment to remember to stay safe. Don’t get her wrong, she wanted a family with him. But with a war arising around the corner it didn’t seem like the best time to bring a child in the world.

“Hey doll,” He smiled seeing me, but his expression turned sour as he saw her shake. “What’s wrong.” He ushered her into his house.

“I’ve got something to tell you.” The anxiety building up in him was clear.

“You’re not breaking up with me.” He whispered, looking terrified.

“God no,” She paused, mentally preparing myself, “I’m pregnant.” His face froze, staying deadly still for an uncomfortable amount of time, “Bucky, please respond.” She whispered, showing the fear in my voice.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” He murmured softly. She nodded. “I’m gonna be a dad.” He said louder this time, his face growing brighter, “I’m gonna be a fucking dad!” He was shouting now.

“Yes, you’re gonna be a dad.” She laughed, reassured by this reaction. He grabbed her around the waist, picking her up and spinning here around. She shrieked. “Bucky, put me down.” She said, lightly punching on his shoulders.

“Right, gotta be careful, there’s a baby in there.” He said, placing his hands over her stomach, barely able to contain his smile. He rested his forehead on hers letting her stare into his blue eyes. “I love you so much.”

~~~

“Then he left for the war, it was difficult but we wrote to each other as much as two people possibly could. I’ve kept every last one.” She says, thinking of the box she had stuffed under her bed since the day Bucky left. She pauses glumly, “then one day they just stopped, he was gone. Steve had left, I had no contact with him, I was all alone. It felt as though that side of my life had been completely cut off.” She looks up to be met by her son’s sympathetic eyes, resting his hand over hers as a show of comfort. “But one day he appeared, he was saved by Captain America. I got a letter telling me he was safe, that he was being promoted to work with Steve and other elite soldiers. I thought we were gonna have that perfect life we’d always dreamt of.”

“What happened?” He whispers softly, watching as tears well in her eyes.

“Life doesn’t always work out how we want it to.”

“Where’s he now?”

“He’s up in the stars, with all the other heroes, he protected those around him for all his life, and if he was still here, he’d be out fixing the world as best as he could.” She saw her son glancing up at her, a slight wonder flickering through his eyes.

“Am I like him?”

“You have his eyes,” It was true, he was the spitting image of his father, the blue eyes and dark hair, the same cheeky, boyish smile he pulls when he knows he’s in trouble, “and you treat those you love with as much care as he did.” She saw the signs of a protective friend, the way he would scare off the bigger kids on the playground when he saw them picking on someone who couldn’t defend themselves. “I love you kiddo, now go to sleep.” She say playfully, kissing his forehead as he yawns sleepily.

“Night mum.” He says as she reaches his door.

“Goodnight James.”

#bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #40s #40s bucky

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bleedingmagitek · 5 years ago

Text

Thirteenth entry:

How curious, remember a specific moment in time but not remember the date it took place...

With small and rapid taps to the carpeted floor with one foot, I waited crossing my arms with a hairbrush that Terra reached my bedroom where I would take care of the last details to complete her appearance. Hairstyle, jeweled and the application of some makeup that would highlight her skin and features. Only when I noticed her approaching steps, I uncrossed my arms and walked towards the door to allow her to enter the room, snorting.

“Sorry I'm late!” I heard her apologize between gasps, striding. Her hands grabbing part of the cloth composing her skirt. Multitude of golden curls bounced around her little face.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I shook my head and indicated with a elongated finger to take a seat on the stool in front of the vanity. Catching her breath, she obeyed what softened the expression on my painted face. In the center of the dark wooden surface a series of gilded decorated boxes waited to be opened while I stood behind her, having been reflected my advance in the mirror above. Her small shoulders shrinking beneath long waves of hair previous giggle, slightly startled as my cold white hands were placed on them. After a moment of thoughtful observation, clear irises fixed in her copy, I proceeded to gently brush the alined ringlets in her back with the comb, one by one, held by my other hand.

Motion that could prolong a good time.

The constant and repetitive sound of the bristles smoothing out each silky strand to twist adopting its natural form attenuated by the melody that its owner's lips produced after a short time of stillness at the same time that her two feet moved rhythmically in a swing against the material of the occupied seat. Contagious tune that I also ended up humming until I was satisfied with the activity. Discarding the hairdressing tool afterwards, leaving it on the table, I immediately opened one of the larger boxes in search of the perfect accessory for Terra's hairdo. A lot of hair bands, hairpins and long chains of pearls were removed without pleasing me. Disgusted I left the room to find one of my servants with the order to acquire a more appropriate ornament. The amount of gil didn't matter. Terra as the curious child she was felt like turning around and asking what was driving my sudden action yet she simply blinked and restrained herself.

Not having the fortune of finding the most obedient maid, what I imagined would be an instant became almost an hour. My whim as she called my demand being questioned which left the baby doll too long with nothing to do, except for poke around among my things. An error that would not happen again!

Perhaps at first glance, in a general look, everything seemed to be maintained in the same way but oh dear, there was definitely something different and that was easy to perceive in Terra's nonverbal language.

“All good, sweetie?” I separated my lips to ask, aware of the stiffness of her petite frame, moving through the vast space after closing the door.

Her quick affirmation sounding like a squeak. Mmmm suspicious.

“I hoped so.” My voice sounded very close to her this time, already reached the abandoned position behind in a few steps. As if nothing had really happened behind my back I took two or three ribbons to tie her curls in a tall ponytail. The tension accumulated in her body even visible in her reflected doll face, I smiled wickedly.

Once it was very stretched, I thought I could catch a sigh coming from her, ignoring that she would not be free to trot toward her room with her trickery so easily. Putting the items revealed in the first box again inside, it was the turn of that containing my select makeup products and brushes. Impregnating of the white pigment a rounded sponge, I sank it inside one of the crystal pots and I started covering the already pale face of terra with it, guiding myself by how much bare skin I saw in the mirror.

“Why the use of makeup?” She dared to wonder aloud after a long silence.

I pretended that the point was not related to me. “It is an effective way to highlight the already beautiful, my dear. Don’t you like to look prettier?”

So she was much more direct. “I know that, Lizzie already explained it to me but you are not a lady and you use lots of makeup... Soldiers do not use makeup... Just... Why?” My fingers ceased to rub the sponge on her smooth epidermis. “Will I ever see you without it?” Her voice quavered as her gaze descended.

I ignore the reason but I couldn’t help but laughing. Pressing the soft object between my fingers against my palm, adding sticky whiteness.

“Terra, I want you to listen to me very well, what I am sure now you have found and read belonged to a man who already has nothing to do with me... Don't touch it again.”

Then I spoke very seriously. Deadly serious.

Terra could feel it because she did not insist on the subject. And so we continue with what we had in hand. The silence surrounding us anew, the tension gradually decondensed. Concluding with last touches that no space remained unbleached. previous coloration of her closed eyelids and pouty lips. Chosen colors that match the tone of her clothes. Below some slipped tufts, the point of grace fell on the shining gem encrusted in the golden mold of the earring.

Leaning her both arms on the dressing table, for a while Terra stared at her reflection until nodding with a smile she jumped off the stool and left. I did not stop her, busy leaving the table clear.

#Writing #Journal: In character #We be burning: Kefka and Terra #Child of Mine

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ghostface-babe · 6 years ago

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Hello! I would like a match up please! I’m a 5’4 pan women with black hair cut into a bob. I have blue eyes and round rosey cheeks! I’m very soft and plump and I love to wear pink dresses and makeup! I love horror and the macabre as well and incorporate it into most of my art. I love to be with my friends but I need plenty of time by myself. I also really want to explore spooky places (but I’d need someone to hold my hand hehe) thank you!!!

Hello cutie!! We are very similar 💖💖 I hope you like this(:

Up first is: Vincent Sinclair

• I think Vincent would truly just adore your style. He’d find you to be innocent and pure compared to him which would make him want to protect you. A cute pink dress, he’s blushing under his mask. How on earth did someone so angelic wander into Ambrose? He doesn’t care, he’s so lucky you did and that you decided to stay with him.

• He could adore your makeup and would love watching you do it. The way you move the brushes across your skin, similar to the way he creates his art. All the colors you blend - it’s like a painting on your face and he’s in awe. How could such a simple act be so calming and beautiful to watch. He’ll be fascinated by the makeup, would probably steal some to use for his art. Is confused when you say it’s not meant for that.

- ‘Vincent where is my blue eyeliner?’ You won’t need a response, he’ll be sitting there with the eye pencil in his hand.

-‘No, Vince you can’t draw with it..it’s not a pencil.’ Obviously he’s confused. It’s got a point, you use it to draw, is it not a pencil? poor wax boy is confused.

• Vincents life was very dark before you came along, but even with you in his life it’s still not perfect for obvious reasons. You love horror so that’s good because this boy indulges in a couple creepy hobbies. You have your art and he has his lol. He loves that you accept him the way he is and don’t find him too creepy. He’s really insecure and is always afraid you’ll leave him for someone better. Someone like Bo.

• You incorporate macabre into your artwork!! Vincent’s gonna love this plain and simple. He’ll find your artwork to be unique and just as odd yet beautiful as his own. He’ll most likely take inspiration from some of your creations and add it into his own. You’re his muse and he enjoys drawing and working on art with you, whether it’s a project you’re completing together or alone. Any time with you is great and the fact that you both love art, that makes him so happy. You’re his perfect person, his angel sent down to love and care for him. He feels like he doesn’t deserve you.

• He’s not a talker, unless it’s a sentence or two but even then he’d rather shake or nod his head - point to what he needs or grunt or groan in response. You liking alone time from time to time won’t bother him. He doesn’t mind if you’re quiet too, just please don’t stay away from him for too long or he’ll start to think you’ve changed your mind about him. He’s really insecure like I said, so he’ll get worried and stress for days if you aren’t being as affectionate to him as usual. He’ll think he’s done something wrong, but won’t bother you. He’ll wait for you to make the first move given the fact that he’s shy and he doesn’t want to push you away.

• No place better to explore than Ambrose. You want creepy? You got creepy. From the church to the gas station, to the Sinclair house, and of course the House of Wax. It’s a peculiar town, one that definitely took some time getting used to but once you did you realized it was quite beautiful. Vincent will take you out and wander with you. He’ll hold your hand the whole time and explore the town he’s seen so many times before differently with you. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing together, every moment is perfect and he’s so grateful for you.

okay and next is..

Bubba:

• Bubba loves your short hair. He loves to play with it and pat you head. He loves the way it shapes your face especially your perfectly round cheeks. His fingers are always squeezing them. He can’t help it, they’re adorable especially when a blush creeps over them turning them pink. You’re just too adorable. Prepare for lots of kisses all over your face and lots of happy babbling and praising.

• Bubba loves how soft you are, your skin feels so nice against his. He loves holding your hand, kissing you, just touching you any way he can. He’s a very affectionate guy and he loves having his hands on you somehow - very grabby!

• Your dresses are so pretty. He loves pawing at the fabric, feeling how nice the material is. The colors make him happy and they look so good on you. A pretty dress for a pretty girl, he’s in awe. More praises, will probably dance with you to see the dress twirl. Heck he’ll just spin you around or babble for you to spin around yourself, twirling his fingers to help explain what he means. He might want to try on one of your pretty dresses. Maybe it’ll make him pretty too, he wants to see. Now he’s in your dress and won’t stop spinning around. He’s pointing to his head because headache.

• Bubba is going to adore your makeup. He loves makeup and he loves watching you do your makeup and what it looks like when it’s finished. He’s going to touch your face a lot. He wants to feel the colors. You’ll have to do makeover nights with him because he’s going to be persistent on getting his hands on that makeup. He wants to try it and look pretty too.

• He has some weird furniture pieces made from bones and remaining carcasses. Nubbins got him into that. He’s very handsy and loves to make things. When he sees your artwork he’s very interested. They’re amazing! He loves the macabre style, all the creepy things you draw and sketch. He’ll want to hang up all your drawings and display them so everyone can see. He’s so proud of you.

• Quite like Vincent, Bubba won’t mind if you want some alone time but he’s just very clingy. He needs so much love and attention and if you’re alone for too long he’ll get sad and confused. You’re the only person who treats him with love and kindness, so you being away from him will make him wonder if he did something wrong. Complete opposite of Vincent, he won’t wait. He’ll go straight to you and be a blubbering mess, tears on his mask. You’ll have to explain to him he did nothing wrong otherwise he’d keep his head down like a puppy.

• The sawyer farm is spooky as it is lol, so no need to go anywhere else. Bubba will walk through the woods with you, wander around for a bit, and let you explore his town. No need to be scared because he won’t let you out of his sight. He’d hold your hand and take care of anyone who dare cross your path.

This is so lengthy gahh but I added a 3rd pick

last but not least..

Tiffany Valentine:

• Tiff loves your body. She loves how soft you are, how your is cut so adorable short. She adores your makeup most of all and the way it compliments your beautiful blue eyes. Kisses will always be on your cheeks and she’ll swoon over the way you blush when she does so. Nicknames like doll face, pudding, and sugar are expected.

• She’ll love the way you dress. Fashion is something she takes very seriously, being that it brings her so much joy. She’ll love all your dresses and might even match with you on some days. Shopping together would definitely be one of her favorite things to do with you. She’d help you pick out so many things.

• Makeup is her favorite thing to do. She loves all types of makeup. She’ll take inspiration from some of your looks and try new things with hers. She’ll give you tips and practice different looks on you. The fact that you both love so much of the same things would make her very happy. She’d be so excited and giddy getting dolled up with you.

• Tiff would love your artwork. She’s a pretty gal with a dark soul. She loves horror movies and horror activities. Your artwork would spark her interest. She’d probably get one of your drawings tatted honestly. Would try to convince you to have an art show. She’d arrange it. You’re just so talented and she wants everyone to know.

• She wouldn’t mind you wanting alone time. There’s plenty of things she could do to occupy herself. Reading, painting and filing her nails, shopping. She’d always be there for you and would know that you weren’t doing it because you were mad, but because you liked being alone sometimes. She would understand that.

• There’s not really anything that spooks her out. She’s a confident woman. She’ll take you to haunted houses or abandoned houses, anywhere spooky you wanna go. Don’t be nervous, she’d hold your hand and talk the whole way. If you got too scared she’d wrap her arms around you and guide you away from the situation. You’re her baby doll and she wouldn’t want you being too scared.

Sorry this was so long omggggg. I just couldn’t pick one 😂

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

cirque d'amour - chapter eleven (trixya) - cal

she’s back back back back again!

THE 1975 FANS — CLOCK THE REFERENCE.

i chose for trixie to perform this song because - hashtag tmi - i’ve been sad and listening to it a lot.

and — trixie played the spice girls song when i saw her in my home city (L)

moastarc.tumblr.com -> come say hey!

A beam of heavy sunlight broke Katya’s slumber.

She woke, not for the first time, with her arms enveloping the deeply sleeping Trixie Mattel. Katya yawned, and winced. It was the Cirque’s final show today. Tomorrow, the Cirque would begin their tour of the states; tomorrow, she would be leaving Trixie behind in the harsh city of Los Angeles.

Katya shuffled closer to her now, longing to be closer to her for the brief amount of time that they had left before they were tore catastrophically apart. Trixie stirred beneath her arms.

“H-huh. Katya?”

Katya gave Trixie a gentle squeeze. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Trixie turned beneath Katya’s embrace, so that she was facing her. Her smile was light against her lips; her face marked and cracked from the hours of tears she had endured the night before.

“How are you feeling?” Katya asked, taking a moment to tuck a flyaway lock of Trixie’s hair away from her face.

“I feel okay.” Trixie said, certainly seeming much calmer than she had done before. Trixie’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh god. I’m performing today.”

Katya’s lips parted into a grin. “Oh, bitch. You sure are.”

“What if I mess up?” Trixie immediately began to babble, bunching up the bed-sheets with balled fists. “W-what if I ruin the entire —”

“Tracy Joanne Elizabeth Mattel,” Katya interjected, poking the softness of her freckled nose with an outstretched forefinger. “You won’t.”

“But —”

“You won’t.”

Trixie’s lips parted into a shaky smile, and Katya felt her insides melt.

“Anyway,” Trixie’s breath was a shudder. “Get outta here. I have to make myself look amazing, and I’m sure the cirque won’t be impressed if you show up late with your bed-hair.”

“Places, you little fucks, places!”

Alaska, completely de-dragged and speaking in business-like aggression, barked orders at the rabble of Cirque performers. Violet rolled her eyes in Katya’s direction, who stifled a laugh against the palm of her hand.

“It’s not our fault he decided to get fucked up the night before the closing show,” she moaned cattily, a hand on her hip.

Jason was sipping gingerly at a sparkling water every so often, clasping a hand to his forehead with pained dramatics. “Ugh, fuck my life.”

The group had been making final preparations for the show at the Oscars since the break of noon, and Katya was filled with a strange combination of anticipation, fear, and sorrow. She would miss the Oscars, and though a friend of Latrice was resuming the running of the place while they were gone, it was her home.

Jason’s drained eyes raked the group who were stood before him once everyone had gathered. “Okay. I’ve managed to get the press in tonight, so this show needs to be spectacular. It will spread the word about the tour and may even make international news.”

Katya exhaled a strong breath, in sync with the rumble of gasps around her. International? She marvelled for a moment how travelling the earth would feel - sharing her performances, her story, and raising money for the cause - with the world.

“That’s so exciting, ‘Laska!” Latrice beamed, his mouth broken into the hugest of grins.

“Yes, yes,” Jason waved an idle hand at his excitable business partner in dismissal. “So let’s all stick to the script, and make sure you bring your best games tonight.”

“And,” Katya grinned knowingly at Latrice. “We have our trump card.”

Jason eyed Katya warily, their almost flirtatious exchange barely a fortnight earlier seemed like another time entirely. “Trump card? Am I missing something?”

“Trixie Mattel is closing the show!” Latrice threw his arms out with excitement, his head tipped back.

Jason’s eyebrow raised in an instant, redness creeping up his neck. “Who?”

“Trixie Mattel,” Latrice slapped Jason on the back, causing him to stumble slightly. “She was the girl who played with you at the party!”

Jason’s eyebrows knitted together in an irritated frown. “When were you going to run this by me?”

“Ah, 'Lasky, come on,” Latrice’s voice rumbled goodheartedly. “It’s my last night here - our last night - and she’s phenomenal. You can’t deny how she made us all feel.”

Jason seemed to ponder this for a moment, though Katya could guarantee that he had no recollection of his intoxicated swaying when Trixie had stolen the spotlight from him. “Alright, I guess,” Alaska muttered, draining his glass of sparkling water in a single, desperate gulp. “She better be good.”

Barely an hour later, the Cirque had collected in the dressing room for the final time. Katya had decided to wear a black bralette and high-rise shorts, with gem tights that glistened in the light. She completed the look with a sexy red heel, and her hair was deliciously wavy.

Roy was sat beside her in the half-way house to becoming Bianca, with a full face of clown make-up and lacking in a wig. Katya had seen her transition more times than she could ever count, but she would never lose her amusement at seeing a wig-less, made-up Bianca Del Rio.

“What are you grinning at, you cunt?” Bianca barked, pressing a huge eyelash to the droop of her lid.

Katya chuckled softly. “Nothing, Bee. Love you.”

“Shut up,” Bianca responded, though her huge, red lips twitched into a tiny smile. “When’s your girlfriend arriving?”

“You shut up,” Katya muttered, pursing her lips around the straw of her mocktail. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bianca rolled her eyes. “Give it 5 minutes and they’ll be a U-Haul parked outside my apartment.”

“Funny.”

Bianca dropped her mascara for a moment and gazed at Katya, sensing the change in her tone. Katya’s head was dipped, her hands fidgeting with the gems in her tights.

“Don’t do that, stupid. You’ll rip them off.”

Katya ceased immediately, though her gaze didn’t waver. She examined the cracks in the wooden floorboards with a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong with you, Miss Thing?”

Katya hesitantly raised her eyes to greet Bianca’s, fearing that if the words parted her lips that she may not be able to stop the flow of them, and they may drown everyone in their wake. “I just —” her lower lip wobbled dangerously. “I’ll miss her. I worry about her. That’s all.” Katya awaited Bianca’s scathing comment, but to her utmost surprise, the comment never came.

She felt a strong hand squeeze her upper-arm, and she gasped softly. “You cute little fuck,” Bianca grinned, squeezing her again for good measure. “Courtney will be here with her, and you have, you know, FaceTime, or whatever. You can send each other videos of your pussy. Is that what you lesbians do in long distance relationships?”

Katya’s laugh eradicated the tears collecting in her eyes almost immediately. “You dumb fuck, how should I know?”

“Oh of course not,” Bianca mused, returning her attention to the make-up brush she had earlier abandoned. “Because you aren’t dating each other. Right? You kids and your fucking commitment issues, I swear.”

Katya’s amusement was clear in her tone. “Says you, whore.”

“I’m old, I'm allowed to be a whore.”

Katya felt hugely grateful for Bianca then - not that she didn’t often feel it, Bianca had done more for her than anyone else ever had - but she felt it in the core of her bones, in the steady thumping of her pained heart. She was truly blessed to be cared about so deeply by this crazy, wonderful, silly human being. “Love you, Bee.”

A pause.

“Love you too, idiot.”

Trixie stepped gingerly into the living room, her fidgeting hands currently fingering creases into her white skirt. Her pink plaid shirt was tucked expertly into it, secured with a golden belt buckle. Layers of fringe fell from her sleeves like white rainfall. She had spent a full two hours on perfecting her golden curls and painting a masterpiece upon her face. Her eyelids glistened pink in the soft light, and rose-gold flecks brightened her plush lips.

Courtney was probing a tiny gemstone into her pale pink nails from where she sat on the sofa, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth and her brows furrowed in utmost concentration. It took Courtney a few moments to feel the anxious burn of Trixie’s gaze, and she finally looked up. Her eyes widened in an instant. “Trixie! You look amazing!”

Trixie’s lip wobbled, the fear of performing clouding her mind from everything else. Courtney rose from the sofa, sensing her unease at once. She wrapped a gentle arm around Trixie’s middle and gave her a comforting squeeze. “You’re going to do great,” her voice was so soft and so sure that Trixie almost felt like she could believe her. She released a baited breath, the vices clamping her lungs coming undone for just a moment.

“Well, I can’t back out now,” Trixie grumbled in response, dipping to collect her baby pink guitar case from where it lay at her feet.

Trixie’s phone buzzed in her hand.

Katya

Face your fears, doll face. I’ll be there to catch you when you make the jump.

Dollface? Trixie’s lips broke into an amused grin. What a dork.

Trixie

We’re calling each other pet names now, are we? Okay, Grandma. *heart emoji*

Katya’s response was immediate.

Katya

I’m only 5 years older than you, cunt. *heart emoji*

Katya

And I like how you ignored my sincerity.

Trixie bit her lip for a moment.

Trixie

Sincerity is scary.

They were late.

The cab they had pre-ordered never showed, and Trixie had fast approached her melt-down mode as she hopped foot to heeled foot outside of her and Courtney’s apartment.

“Court,” she had garbled, gripping Courtney’s bare shoulders with a wild desperation. “What if we don’t get there, what if I miss my cue? Oh my god, Katya would be so disappointed. And Latrice! And —“

Trixie’s manic tirade was cut short by Courtney’s manicured hand slapping against Trixie’s cool cheek. It wasn’t very hard, but it was enough to cause Trixie’s mouth to gape open.

“Pull yourself together, Mattel,” Courtney snapped, grasping Trixie’s face with both hands. “We will get there. We will will this into existence. Do you understand me? We will be fine.” Courtney squeezed Trixie’s cheeks so that her lips pressed into a pout.

“You’ll ruin my make-up,” Trixie grumbled distortedly through pursed lips.

Courtney released her with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll fix you up before showtime.”

After a few more agonising minutes, Courtney finally huffed an irritated breath and pulled her phone from her purse. “Wait here, Trix.”

Trixie did as she was told, feeling like every passing moment was a lifetime, her panic touching at the sides of her mind and reminding her of every fear she had about this night. Performing, in front of hundreds. Being late. Letting everyone down. Freezing on stage. Forgetting her words. Losing Katya. Trixie lingered on the final thought with a pain in her heart. Losing Katya.

A sudden, sharp honking woke her from her daze, and her vision slowly adjusted to the dusk of the night around her. Trixie’s eyes widened with surprise.

Willam, her hair dyed a crazed electric blue, was grinning behind the wheel of her battered Corsa. “Come on, hoe, or are you staying out here all night?”

Courtney raced to Trixie’s side, grasping her dangling arm with a note of hurry and dragging her towards the car. Trixie’s jaw was still gaping.

“Willam,” Trixie breathed as Courtney bundled her into the back seat. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the waves of shocking blue sprouting from Willam’s scalp.

“Uh huh,” Willam responding, chewing on a piece of gum. “It’s true what they say - people make dramatic changes when they get dumped.”

Trixie winced against the quip, but Willam was still smiling. “Trix, it’s a joke. Jeez.”

“Thanks for saving our asses,” Courtney huffed, dropping into the seat beside Trixie.

“Oh my god,” Trixie gasped, the realisation finally dawning. “Yes. Thank you!”

“Don’t sweat,” Willam replied, pushing her car into drive and spinning the steering wheel. Trixie took a moment to ogle at the netted blue dress she was wearing, a perfect match to her wild tangle of hair. She looked truly stunning.

“Were you going somewhere?” Trixie enquired with a curious tilt of her head.

“A date,” Willam muttered, jolting the car a little too eagerly into the road. “But don’t worry - I’m glad I’m not missing this. I nearly dropped dead into my soup when Courtney told me you were performing.”

Trixie shrugged a shoulder somewhat self-consciously. The idea of Willam dating was a strange one indeed.

“Here we go girls - hang onto your panties.”

Trixie, flanked closely by Courtney and Willam, threaded hurriedly through the masses of bodies that were collected at the foot of the stage. Trixie hadn’t even taken a moment to see who was performing - she had her goal in sight, and she focused on that alone, for fear of losing her waning sanity.

Trixie’s flight was stalled by a tug on her arm, and she swung back to greet Courtney. “This is where we leave you,” Courtney breathed, her eyes sparkling beneath the flashing lights. Trixie felt a lump rise in her throat. She threw an arm around Courtney’s shoulders, crushing her into a hug that said more than words ever could. Courtney patted her in return, emotion causing her voice to crack as she murmured into Trixie’s ear.

“You got this, okay? I’m proud of you.”

Trixie released her friend, feeling a blooming of warmth throughout her chest. She dared a glance at Willam, who smiled somewhat awkwardly in return. She quickly curled her index finger to the tip of her thumb, in the universal sign of 'okay’. “Go get em, Trix.”

Trixie smiled wobbly, turning towards the stage door and gripping the handle of her guitar case with a new sense of bravery.

“She's here,” came Latrice’s booming voice the moment Trixie entered the room, her resolve solidifying which each passing moment.

“I’m so sorry Latrice, the damn cab —”

“I know, honey, don’t worry,” Latrice smiled kindly at her, looking magnificent in his ringmaster get-up. “You’re right on time.”

“Am I up?” Trixie whispered, her heart starting to pound against her chest.

Latrice’s smile widened, his eyes glistening with mirth. “You are.”

Trixie found herself side-stage some moments later, listening to the sounds of the crowd as they brayed and gabbled to each other. She was sorry she had missed the final show - from what Katya had told her, it was rumoured to be the best yet - but she swallowed down her disappointment with an anxious gulp. There’s nothing I can do about it now, she thought to herself, her hand grasping the neck of her guitar. I just need to do my part for them, now.

Alaska, dragged to the nines and looking incredible, had taken Trixie to one side before escorting her to the stage. “There’s some very important press here,” She had hissed, her breath laced with liquor. Trixie had scrunched her face up at the smell of it. “They are up on the balcony. I don’t want you to focus on them, though. Especially not if you’re nervous. I find it’s always best if you play to your audience. If you look directly at the bar, the lights are bright enough to make them all shadows.”

Trixie must’ve began to tremble against Alaska’s fingertips on her shoulder, because she then squeezed her the tiniest bit. “You upstaged the hell out of me the other week, Trixie Mattel. I have no doubt about your talents.”

Trixie was taken aback by the compliment, but she thanked Alaska none-the-less. Alaska’s catty little mouth had twitched into the smallest of smiles, before she patted her towards the draping curtain that was side-stage.

Trixie knew the moment was near.

Latrice strode onto the stage then, from the other side, his new red coat billowing behind him like a cape, rhinestones catching each light and glinting like a star on the clearest of nights. Trixie gasped at the sight - he looked truly magnificent.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he began, the lights dimming to a sombre blue around him. “I am so pleased to have had you with us tonight, for our final show.”

His words were greeted with heavy groaning from the masses, which Latrice signalled to hush. “I know, I know, but trust and believe me when I say - it is not over yet.” The crowd whooped and cheered, stamping their feet against the dusty ground with vigour and encouraging their ringmaster to bring the magic.

“Now, this is a first for the Cirque,” Latrice hummed against the microphone, stepping lightly around the stage as he spoke. “We have - yes - a never before seen spectacle! She’s our own dainty little country rose, as precious as they come, and she will weave a spell on you unlike any other!”

Trixie’s eyes clamped shut against the wave of cheering, waiting for the moment.

“She’s the Cirque’s personal Barbie girl…Trixie Mattel!”

Latrice pounded excitedly off-stage like a cat, and Trixie clung to a breath as she strode softly to the mic that was lying in wait for her.

She turned, gazing out at the expanse before her. Alaska had been right - the spotlights mostly drowned everyone in a sea of darkness, but even so, Trixie could see the place was packed to the brim with goodness knows how many people. She gulped, fearing her resolve would leave her, until she spotted a distorted, but familiar, face amongst the crowd.

Katya gazed at her with an obvious warmth and admiration, her smile breaking apart her lips. Trixie took a moment to implant that image into her memory, and steeled her resolve, drinking in the love Katya radiated.

Trixie smiled.

“Hey everyone,” she greeted the room, her words being met with thunderous applause. “I know you’ve been having your life handed to you for these last couple of hours; I’m here to close the night with something I hope will calm you and move you, all at once.”

Trixie surprised herself with how her voice didn’t shake - she hadn’t prepared her greeting, but the longer she spent standing on that stage and bathing in the light, she felt more at home that she could ever anticipate.

She slid her guitar strap over her shoulder, and closed her eyes.

The room fell into a haze as Trixie began to play - her notes were flawless, practised, perfect, magical. Her voice wove into the air and tangled itself amongst the melody.

“There’s no use crying for the milk you spill,” she sang, tapping her foot lightly.

“If you don’t slip and tumble, someone will.”

Trixie gazed out at the expanse of the crowd as her song continued. The room was silent beneath her voice, those watching her completely captivated. Trixie felt no fear anymore - this felt right, this felt wonderful. This was what she was meant to do.

“Beneath the neon moon I’m in the light…

Tell me do I ever cross your mind?”

She scoped out familiar faces in the crowd - Willam; tearful, Courtney; aghast, and Katya - proud.

“No I won’t come running at the ringing of the bell." Trixie cast a lazy, hooded eye across the expanse of darkened faces before her, greeting each one slowly as though she could see their eyes.

”No you don’t throw wishes to the well.“

Trixie strummed her guitar and tilted her chin for the final line, closing her eyes against the light. ”No, you don’t throw wishes to the well.“

The final note was met with silence, and for a heartbeat, Trixie feared that she hadn’t done as well as she had hoped. Quite suddenly, the room erupted into cheers and applause. Trixie gaped at the sound - it was deafening. She couldn’t help but giggle into the mic, her limbs tingling and her eyes collecting tears at their edges.

"Oh my god, you guys,” she choked. “Thank you so much.”

The crowd cheered harder, if that were possible. Trixie felt completely overwhelmed. Demanding chants for an encore began immediately, and Trixie, her veins filled with starlight, approached the mic once more.

“Alright, fuckers,” she said, her crowd laughing along with her. “You get to make a request - but please. Not Wonderwall.”

Trixie was elated.

She had been encored many times more, following her questionable but enjoyable rendition of the Spice Girls’ “Say You’ll Be There”. After the fourth song request, she had had to cut the crowds demands.

“Sorry guys, we have a curfew,” she had smirked, the audience groaning loudly in protest.

Now, she sat amongst the bar with the rest of the Cirque. She had basked in the admiration of both performer and audience member alike, but now she only wanted to be with one person.

Trixie wove through the bodies that had surrounded her and the others, seeking out Katya amongst them. She was unexpectedly halted in her tracks by an incredibly well-dressed woman, her round spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose and her lips painted a deep red. She was smiling.

“Trixie Mattel,” she said, beckoning for a handshake. Trixie obliged with a confused smile. “We were very impressed with your performance.”

Trixie, again, appreciated the praise, but she was painfully aware of the second hand ticking by; the hand that was bringing Katya’s departure ever closer. “Thank you, but I really must —”

Trixie felt a small rectangular card be pressed against the palm of her hand, which she instinctively clutched at. “I won’t keep you,” the woman purred with a knowing smile. “But please - give us a call.”

Trixie, mildly curious and heavily confused, was about to take a look at the card in her gripped fist, but at that moment, she spotted the bobbing of a blonde head coming towards her with impressive speed.

Katya flung her arms around Trixie’s shoulders, crushing her into a hug that tore the breath from both of them. “Fuck. I am so proud of you, Trixie.”

Trixie clamped her eyes shut. “Katya.”

The pair of them embraced for a long while, saying nothing. Trixie melted into the contact, taking a moment to register how Katya’s hands felt against her back and how her neck smelt with Trixie’s nose pressed against it. Trixie could feel the soft beat of Katya’s pulse against the space between her eyes, as though her heartbeat were giving her little kisses there.

Trixie’s pursed lips planted a kiss on Katya’s neck, and Trixie felt Katya tense beneath her. Katya pulled back, her eyes dreamy. Trixie stared into their blue depths, seeing nothing else around her but those eyes. Katya leaned forward and pressed her soft lips against Trixie’s own. Trixie wrapped her arms around Katya’s neck and pulled her closer, feeling like she couldn’t get close enough, even with their bodies pressed hard against each other.

Katya was soft, her hands reaching into Trixie’s hair and her tongue beginning to probe into Trixie’s welcoming mouth. Trixie couldn’t help but moan softly, feeling a desperation bloom within her. A desire, a want. A need.

Katya paused for a moment, her lips finding Trixie’s ear, and her fingers interlacing with Trixie’s. “Come with me.”

Trixie had never been to Katya’s apartment.

She could sense immediately from it’s minimalist decor and the quiet cleanliness that it was primarily Roy’s space. The moment that Katya lead her to her bedroom, though, it was as though she had entered another world.

It was - messy, for lack of a better word. Books were strewn across the floor, some flipped open at various pages, others piled atop each other. There were colourful drawings and pieces of writing hanging on every inch of wall and gemstones lay on every surface. It was very - Katya.

Trixie blinked against the candlelight that Katya had created, her lighter clicking away at the many candles that littered the room. Trixie sighed deeply, watching her graceful movements with a mixture of longing and heartache.

Katya turned to look at her once she was done, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. Trixie took in the curve of her crimson lips, the dark scattering of her eye-shadow. Her eyes ran the length of her jaw, skipping lightly over the peak of her collarbones poking through her shirt. Katya took a step towards her and Trixie’s eyes met hers, seeing there the same desire she felt inside her reflecting in her startling blue depths.

“Trix,” Katya breathed, dipping her lips to greet the nape of Trixie’s neck. Trixie sighed into the feeling, her entire body limp with the simplest of actions. Katya trailed soft kisses down the length of Trixie’s neck, pausing at the bottom to nip her lightly. Trixie groaned, feeling a familiar throbbing pulsate around her entire body as she bloomed like a flower. She has wanted this for so…fucking…long…

Katya’s gentle nipping was starting to drive her wild, and Trixie twisted her head to catch Katya’s lips with her own. Her kiss was hard, desperate. She projected her want and need into every stroke of her tongue against Katya’s, looping her arms around her neck and pulling her close.

The pair of them stumbled around the room, a tangle of wild limbs in a passionate dance. Katya fumbled clumsily at Trixie’s shirt, her hands grasping and groping but the kiss never breaking. Trixie tugged at it herself to help her, unable to stop a laugh from breaking their lips apart. Their eyes met and Katya grinned, pulling her shirt off now she was able to see. Trixie returned the favour, tugging Katya’s own shirt above her head and taking a moment to marvel at her chiselled body.

“Wow,” she gasped, already breathless from their clumsy fumbling, but now speechless as well as her eyes raked the dips and valleys of Katya’s body. She was wearing a lacy black bra that accented the perkiness of her breasts, and her abdomen was deliciously toned. Trixie longed to run her mouth over every inch of her.

“Wow yourself,” Katya breathed in return, her soft, warm hands running across Trixie’s full hips. Trixie closed her eyes, her teeth raking softly against her lip.

Katya ran her hands delicately through Trixie’s golden curls, fingering gently across her scalp and running soft kisses across her jawline.

“Katya, please,” She groaned lightly, Katya’s hands teasing her skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Katya looked at Trixie with a knowing smile. “Please — what?”

“Touch me.”

Trixie heard Katya’s soft gasp, and felt her knowing hands push her slowly towards the bed. Katya lowered her gently against the bed, as though she were made of porcelain - as though she could break at any given moment. Katya towered over Trixie on the bed, kissing every inch of skin on her face; between her eyes, down the length of her nose, the corner of her lips. Trixie began to giggle, feeling somewhat ticklish.

“Why are you laughing?” Katya whispered, her grin obvious against Trixie’s cheek.

“Because - I don’t know - this is — I’ve wanted this for so long,” Trixie stammered, still in the thralls of gentle laughter.

Katya’s smile broadened. “Me too.”

The pair began to kiss again - deeply, longingly. Katya’s feather-light touch skimmed Trixie’s skin like a pebble across a lake. Trixie’s breath came in shallow gasps as Katya unhooked the button of the skirt and finally slid it down her thick, trembling thighs.

Trixie’s grip on Katya tightened further, her breath quickening against Katya’s mouth. Katya’s finger skimmed over Trixie’s clit; and Trixie gasped softly.

“Wow,” Katya whispered, her blue gaze piercing in the soft candlelight. Trixie simply nodded, her words lost in sea of longing.

Katya pressed her finger against Trixie’s panties, running it slowly across her clit with a light touch. Trixies body pushed forward - eager to greet Katya in her teasing dance. Katya paused for a moment, gripping Trixie’s jaw with her hand, and stared into Trixie’s eyes.

“Trixie,” Katya breathed raggedly. Trixie stared back, her cheeks burning with desire.

“Yes?”

“I want to make love to you, Trixie Mattel.”

Trixie’s heart fluttered in her chest like a captive bird.

Katya’s lips were against hers again before Trixie had a moment to speak - her tongue probing softly. One hand began to tease Trixie again - her soft finger running the length of Trixie’s labia and up to her clit in slow circles over her underwear. Trixie’s body shook with each touch, and a tiny moan escaped her lips as she parted their kiss for a moment. She started at Katya.

“Please,” she whispered, her breath broken. “Please Katya. Please.”

Katya smiled in the darkness; her teeth brilliantly white in the blackness around them. She dipped herself slowly downwards, finally tugging off Trixie’s soft linen panties. Trixie’s body felt alive with longing, craving, and another feeling she couldn’t place - but it was elating, none-the-less. Her entire body pulsated for this, for only this, with Katya.

Katya bent to press her lips against Trixie’s thighs, running her tongue and teeth across the soft skin. Trixie lent back, feeling wetness spread between her legs, silently willing the teasing Katya to move her tongue just a little higher.

Katya’s tongue pressed against her then, running slowly against her labia and up to her clit with soft, wet strokes. Trixie’s head fell back, her breathes coming in laboured gasps as her body reacted to her creeping euphoria. She pressed her hips forward, greeting Katya’s tongue eagerly and pressing her hands against the back of Katya’s skull.

Katya flicked the tip of her tongue against Trixie’s clit, creeping her free hand up the side of Trixie’s leg. Trixie’s legs parted, willing her closer.

“You taste so good,” Katya murmured against her, the vibrations of her voice sending Trixie reeling in her addled brain.

“I want you closer,” Trixie managed to gasp, halting her mounting orgasm in its tracks. Trixie scrambled at Katya’s chiselled arms, pulling her up to greet her mouth on hers, tasting herself on Katya’s lips.

Katya’s body became parallel to Trixie’s, her skin pressing against Trixie’s own. Her fingers crept up the side of Trixie’s thigh tauntingly. She slid them between Trixie’s swollen lips, teasing her for another long moment, before pushing them slowly inside Trixie.

Trixie felt her body go rigid, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. Katya cupped Trixie’s jaw with her free hand, gazing into Trixie’s eyes. Each of Katya’s soft thrusts were met eagerly by Trixie’s bucking hips. They stared at each other, both gasping softly, moving in a rhythm and a melody that only they could hear. Trixie pulled Katya closer, wanting to feel her soft lips against her own. She wanted to melt into into Katya; wanted to pull her closer, closer, even though it wasn’t physically possible. She wanted them to become one.

They were crushed together now, sweaty and breathless, lips seeking lips, skin against skin. Trixie felt her orgasm creeping inside of her like a crescendo, and her thighs gripped Katya’s hips like a vice as her moans grew and grew, spilling out of Katya’s mouth. Her eyes found Katya’s again. She gasped and gripped Katya’s arms tightly as her body began to quiver. Katya took her queue, and pushed her fingers upward.

Trixie gasped breathlessly, her body quaking, her fists balled against the bed-sheets. She squirmed against the explosion of feelings that erupted inside of her, noting the arc of her breaths and moans increasing with every passing moment. Trixie felt so close to Katya; every part of them was now intertwined together like creeping vines. Trixie’s lips found Katya’s ear, and she whispered; “I love you, I love you, I love you Katya, I love you”, as her body shook and convulsed, her head swimming, feeling herself contract against Katya’s fingers.

Katya stiffened above her, and Trixie feared for a moment for what she had just said. She could feel Katya shaking slightly against her skin. Katya then leaned forward towards Trixie, her nose pressed against hers, her eyes bearing into Trixie’s own.

“I love you too, Trixie Mattel.”

16 notes · View notes

harrieatthemet · 6 years ago

Text

Holiday: Ch. 11

A/N: There is a.... subtle hint or two in here..... if y’all pick up on it, please let me know.... because..... I have something VERY big planned for you guys...... don't think you're prepared....

They were all sprawled out on the couch, Penelope’s legs laying over Quinn’s torso as his head hung off the end of the sofa. Brayden had his feet poking Penelope’s side, jabbing his toe to get her to whine dramatically in agony. It’s what lured me in here, abandoning my laptop and a bedroom simulation in my kitchen. As I skulked in the doorway, watching the three of them bicker playfully, I had realized that it was nearing bedtime. And as if the time hadn’t told me it was time to get them to bed, it was Quinn’s abrupt tears that did. He had gone from giggling, swinging his head violently side to side off the end of the couch, to hysterical screaming and crying after Brayden had accidentally kneed him in the gut. I groaned in irritation, because I truly did not have it in me to do anything except lay down. The past couple of weeks I’d felt so icky, my stomach always hurting and bringing me right the verge of getting sick. I shuttered at the thought of having to drag Penelope up the stairs, much like I had to do every night, because if I’d move too fast I’d get dizzy.

The hissy fit was a domino effect, as Quinn’s tear fest triggered Penelope’s whining. And Brayden, he just could never tolerate his siblings during their meltdowns. He always perceived himself as very mature, and would belittle Penelope and Quinn when they’d cry. He had already started, rolling his eyes and giving Penelope a little shove before lecturing the little two on how ‘crying is for babies’. This did nothing for Penelope, and in fact, even made it worse. It was the typical song that played in my house, Brayden calling Penelope a baby and Penelope screaming that she wasn’t one.

“Okay, okay,” I hummed, entering the room, “think it’s time to get ready for bed.”

“Ughhhh noooooo.” Penelope bellowed, throwing her head back dramatically as her tears came down harder.

I didn’t want to laugh, because Penelope was a little sensitive and I knew it would hurt her feelings if she caught me laughing at her mid-meltdown. I don’t know where she got the dramatics from, but I always assumed it was a little of Harry’s doing. I’d never really seen myself as a drama queen, though I’m sure if you asked Harry he’d beg to differ. But I think a lot of Penelope’s theatrics was the end result of Harry spoiling her rotten. After Brayden, he had been itching to have a girl. But, oh boy, once she got here everything changed. Brayden would always hold a special place in Harry’s heart, being that he was such a sweet surprise and because he was the first. And of course Quinn was special, being that he was he baby of the bunch and loved to keep Harry and I on our toes. But Penelope made Harry melt. He did not have a favorite child, he’d express that to me and to anyone else who asked a million times over, but him and Penelope had a special little bond. Everything she did left him in awe, and he praised her for even doing simple tasks. He loved dressing her up, doing her hair, playing dolls and having very serious tea parties, where he’d be required to dress up. There was nothing she asked for from him that he’d never give her, because he absolutely lived to see the look on her face when she’d get something she wanted. But it was turning her into a little bit of a brat.

And as if rallying everyone up to just get them up the stairs, at the very least, the sound of the doorbell bellowing throughout the house made it even worse. Brayden practically threw his body off the couch, subbing his toe on the love seat by the door as he went sprinting full speed out of the room. Quinn pulled himself together, his meltdown disappearing altogether as he followed Brayden. Penelope, reluctant and still hysterical crying, shuffled slowly out of the room towards the front door. It didn’t matter if she was mid fit, seeing who would be ringing the bell at almost 9 at night still took priority.

Brayden fumbled with the lock, getting it wrong two or three times before he could finally get it right. Quinn was jumping up and down, grabbing onto Brayden’s shirt and trying to propel himself off the floor so he could get a look at the visitor. Penelope hung back a little, sniffling as she calmed herself down. It was then I started to laugh, because even if she was being super dramatic to get attention, she still had to be a part of the action.

“Dad!” Brayden geeked, throwing himself at Harry.

“Yeh not in bed!” He chuckled, taking a step into the house before peppering Brayden’s face with some kisses.

He moved onto Quinn next, who smiled contently as Harry placed a little kiss amongst the bridge of his nose. Quinn, being the witty bugger he is, went and licked a stripe right across Harry’s cheek. And while normal people would bellow a chorus of ‘ewwww’ s, Harry laughed softly before scrunching his nose. Penelope stood off in the corner, shyly of course, playing it innocent as if she didn’t just through a big fuss 5 minutes ago. Her face was flushed from crying, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained. His lips coiled into a little frown, gaze falling upon her as she stared at the floor. This was a signature move of hers, acting shy and reserved for a little sympathy. She was truly her father’s daughter.

“Hope yeh not crying cos it’s bedtime, petal.” Harry murmured, familiar with her charade as he waltzed over to her before picking her up and sitting her on his hip.

“Not tired.” She pouted, Harry’s finger brushing a piece of hair from her eyes.

“If yeh not tired,” he sung, moving her hand so she wouldn’t suck her thumb, “can’t sing yeh t’sleep.”

Penelope’s eyes went wide, being that she assumed now that Harry was here he’d put her to bed instead of me. She wiggled in protest as she sat preciously in Harry’s arms, causing Harry to smile a little before putting her down. The tears, on all ends, had subsided. Though I hadn’t spoken to Harry much the past couple of days, I was glad he’d popped in even if it was sudden and unannounced. He had been away for the past two weeks, doing some promo in London. So I was sure his arrival just before bedtime had been a nice surprise for the kids, and an even better one for me seeing that I didn’t have to deal with the bedtime dramatics. And even though I was glad he was here, and the kids got to see him even if it was only just before bed, I was still a little uneasy about our night out at dinner.

The past two weeks, I had really tried my hardest to push the entire incident out of my head completely. But the more I tried, the more difficult it was. It felt like every time I’d thought I was through thinking of it, it would trickle back into my thought process before dominating it altogether. I hadn’t had the balls to ask him who she was, how he knew ‘Izzy’ and why she was a little overly excited to run into him. I wanted to ask what the relationship was, if it was a dating thing or just a hook up, but I grappled with whether or not it was any of my business. What he did, while we were off doing our own things, was entirely his business. But that definitely didn’t keep me from being curious. It made me wonder how many “Izzies’ there really were, how many people he’d slept with or dated in the duration of the past year.

“Get on up there,” he encouraged, shooing all three kids up the steps, “ ‘nd I’ll come t’tuck each of yeh in.”

I watched as Brayden leaded the way, Penelope hot on his heal as Quinn trudged along behind them. It was just Harry and I now, standing together in the foyer in a slightly uncomfortable silence accompanied by an undeniable tension. I hadn’t made much of an effort to call, or text really, the two weeks he was gone. He’d call two or three times a day, itching to talk to the kids and see how my day was. I’d always meet him with an excuse, kids were at school or I was expecting a work related call. When he’d text, I’d reply with half assed answers, and I’d often forget to answer until a few hours later. He knew something was up, my emotions were always on show via the expressions of my face. I hated that, though it always seemed to work in Harry’s favor.

“Missed yeh.” He murmured, taking a step closer towards me.

“Was only a couple of days since I last saw you.” I shrugged, my fingers tugging at the sleeve of my sweater.

“Two weeks, since our date. Tha’s long,” he added, slithering an arm around my waist before roping me into his chest, “especially since y’fuckin suck at answering th’phone.”

“I don’t” I defended, “just working.”

“Been all weird since dinner , somethin’ wrong?” His voice was low, his lips ducking towards my neck just before nipping at my sweet spot.

“No,” I lied shamelessly, “nothing. Been stressed out with work, s’all.”

“I’ll put th’kids t’bed now,” he stated, voice low and lustful, “ ‘nd all take care o’ yeh after, yeah? Sound good?”

I had a decision to make there, as the words rolled off his tongue. I could agree, which I so desperately wanted to. And if I agreed, to me it meant having to officially let the entire Izzy fiasco go and move on from it. Or I could bring it up, now, as his lips sucked little hickeys around my collarbone before he’d let his tongue run over it gently. I could bring it up and just ask, sweetly and in a non confrontational way. Though it never really worked out like that, and I was sure if I did end up asking, he’d either dismiss the conversation entirely or it’d result in an argument. Maybe both. No, definitely both.

“Ok,” I breathed out hastily, “yeah.”

“Dadddddy.” Penelope whined from the top of the steps, pink nightgown on as tears made her eyes glassy.

Harry laughed softly, his breathy chuckle lapsing against the crook of my neck. He dragged his lips up to my cheek, pressing a quick kiss to it. Before prancing up the stairs, two steps at a time like he always did, he shot me a cheeky wink. I smiled in response, hands hidden away in the sleeves of my baggy white sweater. Penelope waited for him at the top of the stairs, quite impatiently, as one hand clutched onto her bunny Lovey while her other hand found it’s thumb in her mouth. I shook my head, because I’d been trying desperately to get her to stop sucking her thumb.

After sweeping Penelope up, bringing her to her room, I lagged up the stairs and headed off to my room. I could hear the soft murmur of Harry’s voice, singing her one of her favorite lullabies. I poked my head into Quinn’s room on my way down the hall, relieved to see him passed out while nestled into the sheets of his crib. And after that, I peered into Brayden’s room through the crack of his door. I had assumed Harry had left the lights on after tucking him in, since Brayden was out cold.

Traipsing into my room, I let out a long gust of breath as I closed the door behind me. I knew Harry would be in here not too long after me, ridding himself of most of his clothes before encouraging me to do the same. I was truly curious as to why he was being so nonchalant about the entire Izzy thing, and how he had been so quick to just casually dismiss it. If it were the other way around, the conversation would’ve already been had, and he wouldn’t have held himself back from prying and asking a million questions.

It wasn’t until I slid on a pair of shorts, sandwiching myself between my sheets and my mattress, that I could hear him fumbling with the door knob. He came in a huff, letting out a guttural groan after putting Penelope to sleep (which, believe me, is as hard as fucking rocket science). I could hear him kick his shoes off, the sound of his ratty old sneakers thumping against the wood of the floorboards as they landed in the corner near the door. His shirt was next, the thin fabric of his tee shirt settling on my bedroom dresser. The bed moved a little as he flung himself on it, his chest colliding with the soft fabric of the duvet while his face planted right into the pillow beside mine. I had my back to him, resting on my side, as he wrestled around to get into a comfortable laying position. His next move was no surprise, his hand climbing over my torso and resting on my belly as he scooted himself in closer to me. The front of his body molded with back of mine, his chin sweetly resting on my shoulder. I shifted a bit, my stomach feeling uneasy as I moved my weight a little.

“Y’alright, button?” He cooed, hand moving from my belly to arm before adoringly rubbing it.

“Just,” I choked out, my stomach hurting even more, “don’t feel well.”

“Want me t’make yeh a cuppa?” He hummed, his hand trailing up my side and towards my chest.

“Careful,” I seethed, jerking forward as his hand accidentally grazed over my sore nipples, “don’t need tea, think I’d probably throw up anything I put in my stomach anyways.”

“Try getting some sleep, probably caught th’bug Brayden had.” He assumed, hand going back to tracing my spine.

I gladly obliged, nestling myself deeper into the sheets before adjusting my pillow until I was comfortable enough. My bed had never felt this good before, and after my busy day I was more than thankful to be laid up. But it was absolutely impossible trying to get to sleep, being that every which way I tried to lay only made my stomach hurt more. All the cramping, and the unsettling sensation of queasiness, was keeping me up. I could feel the dragging of Harry’s fingers up and down my back start to die down, letting me know he was drifting off into sleep. It felt like a million hours later, but I finally did get to dose off.

And of course, I was abruptly lulled out of sleep by the sound of a phone. My eyes peeled open, as I let out an annoyed and sleepy groan. Out of all the times Harry’s phone goes off, right now had to have been the most inconvenient. Through squinted eyes, trying my best to see in the dark, I tried to look at the clock to get an idea of what time it was. And once I realized it was only 4 in the morning, I grew even more annoyed.

“Turn the damn ringer off next time.” I growled, nudging Harry with my arm to get him up.

“Wha’?” His voice was low, muffled by the pillow as he was half awake.

“Your goddamn phone,” I sneered, “turn it off.”

“S’not mine.” He answered, rolling over before falling back asleep again.

I rolled my eyes, forcing myself to wake up completely before sitting myself up. It was like everything rushed to my head, just in that one simple motion, and I could feel my stomach doing literal somersaults. My hand stretched out towards the lamp on my bedside table, giving it a rough tug to get it to turn on. Flipping my phone over, I squinted my eyes to see who’d be calling me so early in the morning. Then, I got nervous. 6 missed calls from my sister, Molly, were all lined up as notifications on my lock screen. Molly was a little troublesome, and before she went away to college at Ole Miss, she’d always gotten into her fair share of trouble. She didn’t call me much while she away at school, which is why the sudden call bombing made my chest feel empty and my heart beat pick up. And as I went to dial her back, she rang again.

“Molly,” I sighed, swiping to accept the call “have any idea what time it is here?”

“Yeah,” her voice was strained, barely above a whisper, “m’sorry Ell, but I needed to get a hold of you. Tried calling the house, called Harry too but-“

“What’s wrong? Are you okay, where are you?” My voice went up an octave higher, fully awake now as I got a little nervous.

“I’m okay. I’m home, I mean- well I came home for spring break. So I’m in the city, yeah, I’m home.”

“Alright,” I breathed in relief, “so what’s wrong? Why are you still out? It’s early over there.”

“Ella it’s mommy.” She whimpered, voice wavering slightly.

“What,” I could feel my chest tighten, the bed shifting as Harry sat up, “she’s okay, right?

“She’s sick, really really sick. Apparently she has been, for a while I guess. Didn’t tell anyone. I’m at Sinai with her and daddy but-” I could hear her voice crack, my chest hallowing completely as my heart fell to my stomach, “I got here yesterday and she couldn’t get out of bed, and this morning she just- Ella she just literally collapsed, and we took her to the emergency room and-”

“Ok, Molly,” I huffed, my fingers fidgeting nervously, “what’s going on? Can you get to the point, you’re really just making me nervous.”

“Cancer.”

And a word has never made me feel so small before. The very second her voice quivered, echoing in my ear through the receiver of the phone, I could literally feel my hands about to give out before the breath got sucked out of me. I felt helpless, sitting here in bed with a frantic Harry perched just behind me. His face fell too, hearing the word come from the phone as he sat particularly close behind me. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I could just picture Molly right now, sitting just outside the hospital room. I’m sure she was slumped up against the wall, knees pulled into her chest as she pressed the phone to her ear. She was probably fussing with her hair, fiddling with the ends of her dark brown hair or anxiously chewing at it to keep herself from crying. I figured that’s why her voice was low and muffled, probably trying to keep my parents from hearing her. It was obvious that Molly was waiting for me to say something, waiting for me to reassure her and tell her everything’ll work out, like I’ve been doing since we were kids. But I didn’t know enough. Here I was, all the way across the country, with no knowledge on what was going on where I was clearly needed the most.

“Ok,” I croaked, “okay, it’s fine. You’re fine. I’ll- fuck, okay. I’ll fly out today, I guess. Just, can you keep it together? At least till I get there?”

I heard her choke out an agreement, ending the phone call not long after. After turning my phone off, I slid it back onto the dresser before swinging my legs off the side of the bed. My hair fell into my face, my hands gripping at the sheets as I tried to settle my body down. I could feel my stomach gurgling, making weird noises as the nausea came back in waves. I had to blink a couple times, just to make sure this was actually happening.

“Y’alright? Need me t’do something?” Harry asked softly, hand settling over mine before giving it a light squeeze.

“Think,” I spoke shakily, “think I’m gonna-”

I wasn’t even halfway through the sentence before nausea became me. I was on my feet in seconds, hand flying over my mouth as I hurried across the room to get to the bathroom. The tile was against my knees, a cold sensation sending a few chills down my back as my head hung lazily over the toilet. I was holding my hair back, that is, until Harry came in and held it for me. White spots sort of blinded my vision as I got done getting sick, resting my bum on the back of my heels as I caught my breath. He crouched down next to me, boxer briefs stretching out a little on his thighs as he handed me a small cup of water.

“I can keep th’kids this week, if yeh need me to.” He spoke reassuringly, arching his head so he could look me in the eyes.

“Thank you, yeah.” I whispered, tugging at the hairband on my wrist before throwing my hair up in a bun.

I didn’t stay in their long, hurrying back into the bedroom to search for a duffle bag. Harry sat on the edge of my bed, a little groggy and sleep deprived as his eyes followed me around the room. I was bouncing back and forth, getting a bit of a head rush here and there from moving so fast, as I grabbed onto really the first article of clothing I’d find. And as I stuffed random shirts into my bag, I had realized I hadn’t even packed a single pair of pants.

“Can all go t’New York, might be good for ‘em to see yeh mum.” Harry cajoled, shifting his position on the bed.

“No,” I grunted, fumbling with the knob of my knickers drawer, “just, can you keep them here? They have school and stuff. My mom’ll be fine, it’s fine.”

“Yeh sure? Really don’t mind at all.” He persisted, driving me up a wall.

“Yes,” I hissed agitatedly, “told you already, she’ll be fine. Can you just keep everything together here while I’m gone? Behave and all that?”

“Talkin’ t’me like I haven’t done it a million times before.”

“Just wanna make sure I can trust you, that’s all.”

“Wha’s tha’ supposed t’mean?” His voice was a little offended, annoyance laced in as well.

“You tell me.”

“Ella,” he groaned, hands rubbing his eyes to wake himself up a bit more, “can yeh not do this right now. Got bigger things t’deal with.”

“It’s just, I don’t know. What, like, what do you get into when you’re on your own? Izzy? Get into her when I’m not around?” I hadn’t even tried to bring the conversation here, yet somehow I managed to.

“Been waiting for yeh t’bring tha’ up again.” He groaned, “Told yeh it was nothing. Just, can yeah just move on it from it, already.”

“Typical of you to be dismissive about it.” I laughed dryly, zipping up my bag.

“Typical of yeh t’expect the worst from me!” He spat back.

“Can’t really blame me, can you?” I exhaled, sliding on the sneakers I had laying out by my closet.

I could hear him breathing loudly, blatantly annoyed at how bitchy I was being. I’m sure he figured it was just because of how stressed I was, and how I was about fly home into a big fucking disaster. I was glad I had said something, though, because it had been eating away at me for over two weeks. I didn’t even give him the chance to meet me with a response, as I was already halfway down the stairs with my bag in hand. I didn’t wanna hear what he had to say, because right now it didn’t really make a difference to me.

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 7 years ago

Note

Do you think Loki or Bucky would ever be into a plus size girl? Feeling a little down right now and could use a drabble (SFW or NSFW) I hope your move goes well and safely and that you enjoy your holiday, you definitely deserve it!

Love What I See

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC | Word Count: 2110 (so not a drabble)

Warnings: Angst, self-hate, body image issues, swearing

No one had seen her since last night, and Bucky was getting worried. He hated prying into her business, but she’d been getting more and more withdrawn lately, and he didn’t like it. “FRIDAY, locate Becca.”

“Becca is in her room, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI responded.

Becca had come to them because of her powers, but Bucky had been instantly drawn to her because of her name. Becca was short for Rebecca and Rebecca had been his sister’s name. That was where the similarity ended, however, as the Becca of today looked nothing like his sister, nor did she act like her.

Today’s Becca was tough. She was a powerhouse. She was a woman to be reckoned with. She wasn’t like anyone else, and she had such incredible self-esteem it was mind-boggling.

He’d heard other people call her plus sized and had finally googled what it meant, not understanding the connotation when he’d thought it meant her big personality only to snort in derision when he’d realized it had to do with her physical shape.

A size larger than the normal range.

Normal range. Even now the idea of it made him roll his eyes. Who the fuck got to decide what normal was? By their definition, he was plus sized. He didn’t fit the same clothing as everyone else. He was far too wide across the chest and back to wear some shirt off the rack in just any old store. He was bigger than Tony, bigger than Sam. Did that make him plus sized? Was Steve?

No. No one would ever even consider it.

Plus sized. It was insulting. She was a fucking gorgeous woman. He loved her curves and would give nearly anything to get his hands on her hips, or her pillowy ass, or have those thighs wrap around his head while he-

Bucky shook his head to clear the image from his mind. That was not a thought he needed to be contemplating when he finally saw her face to face, or he’d turn into a blithering idiot and not for the first time.

Arriving at her door, Bucky knocked on it quietly. “Becca?” There was shuffling from within, but no answer and he frowned. “Becca, c’mon, darlin’. It’s Bucky. I know you’re in there.”

“Please… go away, Bucky.”

Her voice quavered, the sound of tears caused his heart to stop. “Becca. What’s wrong, doll? Look, I’m coming in.” He pushed open the door before she could either lock it or tell him not to. What he found when he entered had him staring at the room in shock.

There were clothes everywhere. It appeared as if everything she owned was strewn around and had been thrown there with seeming abandon.

“What… happened?” he asked.

She tugged the robe she had on tighter around her body and turned away from him, thrusting the heel of her hand over her face. “Nothing. Please, just go away.”

He took three long strides across the room and clutched her by the arms. “No, no, I’m not leaving. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I hate…” her breath hitched, “I hate myself.”

“What?” he whispered, completely stunned.

“I’m fat, Bucky. I’m hideous. I hate what I look like and nothing I do to lose weight works.”

His heart plummeted, shocked by her announcement. “What… why would you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth. Tony’s got that stupid party tonight, another one, another chance for me to feel horrible and ugly and huge standing beside Nat and Wanda and Pepper dressed like a joke.”

Bucky’s fingers flexed involuntarily on her arms. “Becca… no.”

“Yes,” she whispered, looking at the ceiling with a tear-streaked face. “I wouldn’t go, but Tony makes it mandatory.”

“You’re being foolish.” He spun her around and shook her by the shoulders. “You’re in no way fat!”

“Look at me, Bucky!”

“I am looking at you!” he bellowed. “Dammit! You’re one of the finest dames I’ve ever seen.”

“Stop it!” she hissed. “Stop lying to me!”

“I ain’t lying!” He shook her harder. “I look at you, and all I see is a fucking gorgeous woman. One warm and bright and so confident.”

“I’m not confident,” she jerked away and sat on the edge of her clothing strewn bed. “I’m just really good at pretending. I’ve done it all my life.”

Bucky scrubbed his hand over his mouth, unable to believe half of what she was saying. He sat slowly down beside her and watched her play with the tie of her robe. “You know,” he started softly, desperate to get through to her, “I don’t like being called a liar, especially when I never have and never will lie to you, Becca. On my way here, I was thinkin’ what a shame it was that people gotta label everything nowadays. I didn’t even know what plus sized was until I googled it.” She cringed away, but he took her hand and tugged her back. “A size above normal. That’s what it said. Well, my question is who the fuck decided skinny as a stick was normal?” He gave a disgusted snort. “Steve and I don’t fit in “normal” sizes. Does that make us plus sized?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. Plus size means fat, Bucky. It’s a nice way of saying obese. I’m a big ol’ Butterball. Thick, chunky, fat, and flabby. I’ve battled my weight my entire life. I’ll never be one of them, and I’d been good with it until I wound up here where everyone looks like they stepped off the cover of fucking Vogue magazine.” She got up and marched over to the rack of dresses he’d not even noticed and jerked one from the hanger. “You see this?”

He shrugged at what looked like a bit of cloth. “Yeah?”

“It’s designer. Pepper has them sent to all of us. Do you know what size it is?”

He shook his head, heart breaking for her as angry tears fell down her face.

“Too damn small, that’s what size it is. That’s what size they all are. Designers don’t make clothes for big girls, and this happens every time Tony throws a party. I wind up with nothing to wear because this,” she slapped her ass, “and these,” she grabbed her breasts, “are too damn big to fit into something designer!”

She broke then, dropping the dress to the floor to bring her hands to her face and sob like he’d never seen.

“Oh, dollface,” he sighed, getting to his feet to go and wrap her up in a tight hug.

“I hate my body!” she cried, clinging to him.

“I don’t,” he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “I adore your body.”

“What?” she gasped, freezing in his hold.

“I think you’re sexy as hell, baby girl. I always have.”

“Shut up,” she whimpered, tucking her face into his shoulder.

“I won’t. I think you’re beautiful, tempting, and lush. You have this juicy ass and the best thighs, god what I wouldn’t give to-” He bit his lip, realizing what he’d been about to admit to.

“What?” she whispered, her lips brushing his throat.

The unintended caress made him shudder, and he knew it was now or never. “Have them wrapped around my head while I made you scream my name.”

She inhaled sharply and drew back to stare at him in utter amazement. “You’re… not serious…”

“I meant every damn word,” he murmured, placing his flesh hand on her cheek. “Baby doll, where I came from women were curvy and full figured and could drive a man wild with nothing more than a twitch of her plump ass. You’re one mighty fine bombshell. I’d love a chance to prove it.”

She bit her lip and searched his eyes. Eventually, her beautiful smile began to break upon her lips and she asked, “Prove it how?”

He grinned big and wide. “By letting me take you to the party.”

“Bucky,” she sighed and made to look away.

He caught her by the chin and drew her eyes back to his. “Say yes and leave everything else up to me.” She appeared about to protest, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, and he couldn’t take it any longer, finally dipping his head to press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Just say yes,” he said softly when he lifted his head.

“Yes,” she whispered on a sigh as her eyes gradually fluttered opened.

“I’ll take care of everything. You just worry about putting your closet back together,” he chuckled and kissed her again when she groaned. “Trust me.”

“Always.” She smiled shyly when he kissed her a third time because, Christ, she had the sweetest lips before he finally headed for the door. “Hey, Bucky?”

He paused to grin at her.

“I think you’re pretty sexy, too.”

His grin got all the wider. “Don’t go anywhere.”

***

He waited nervously in the lounge with Steve and fiddled with his tie, hating the damn things still but wanting to do this right.

“You did good, Bucky,” Steve said, tapping his fist on the top of his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Pepper that mad. Or heard her yell in Italian before.”

“Well, when Becca told me about the designer stuff, I knew Pepper wouldn’t have been involved in that. If she’d known they were purposely excluding Becca, she’d a done something about it.”

“Sharon said Pepper was practically in tears herself when she went to talk to Becca.”

“Crying dames was never my strong suit, pal, but… I really like Becca.” He tugged at his tie a second time. “The shit she said about herself… it was so weird to hear it from her. She always seems so self-assured.”

“Hopefully tonight will be the start of helping with her self-esteem. She’s a great gal, a fantastic addition to the team, and I think you two would be good for each other.”

Bucky made to say more but the elevator announced its arrival and he swung around in time to watch the doors open. His jaw dropped like the glass of whiskey he was holding. Thankfully, Steve’s reflexes didn’t let him down. “Damn,” he whispered staring at the vision blushing between Sharon and Pepper.

The dress was a black sheath which left her shoulders bare, while the body of it was covered in geometric patterns of sparkles. She absolutely glowed and looked radiant with her hair curled over one shoulder.

“Told you he’d be speechless,” Sharon snickered as she made her way over to Steve.

Pepper gave Becca a hug. “Remember, we are going shopping for you tomorrow. No exceptions.”

Becca nodded. “Thank you, Pep,” she whispered, tears choking her voice.

“I should have noticed. I never meant to make you feel…”

“You didn’t. They did and I let them.” She sent Bucky a glance and a smile. “I should have said something.”

“Well, they will no longer have me as a client, so there is that. Have fun on your date,” Pepper giggled, heading for the party and Tony a few floors away.

Bucky gave an appreciative whistle as Becca got closer. “Damn.”

“You said that already,” she teased.

“It needed to be said twice,” he murmured as he pulled her closer. “Please, please tell me you can see how drop dead gorgeous you are tonight?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, surprisingly I can.”

Bucky brought his flesh hand to her cheek. “And just so you know, I think you’ll be even sexier should that dress find its way to my bedroom floor.”

“Down boy,” Steve snickered from across the room.

“Shut up, punk. I’m talking to my girl.”

“Yours, huh?” Becca murmured, tugging his tie.

“If you’ll have me,” Bucky said just as quietly.

“I’d love to have you,” she whispered and drew him closer. “Especially if you’d like to fulfill that wish from earlier.”

“I’d suggest skipping the party, but you’re way too good looking to keep all to myself. Come dance with me in public.” He leaned down to brush his lips feather light along her cheek to her ear where he whispered, “Then we can dance together in private.”

A flush lit up her cheeks but happiness sparkled in her eyes. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“For what, darlin’?

“For seeing me, even when I have trouble seeing myself.”

“Baby girl, I love what I see.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her with every ounce of his admiration.

-The End-

#Love what I see #Bucky Barnes #drabble day

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iamwhelmed · 7 years ago

Text

Win One, Have Two: Chapter 5

Didn’t think I’d get it done today, but here it is! Now to just finish (start...) my secret santa project!

Here it is on AO3

Here it is on fanfic.net!

It was lucky, especially for somebody as extraordinarily unlucky as him, to find a small quaint home deep inside the forest on the outskirts of the park. Even luckier, it was abandoned-- had been for some time, from the looks of it. Dust littered the bookshelves in the family room that greeted Isaac when he stepped-- stumbled, fell maybe-- through the front door with the broken lock. The wooden floors were darker than they might have been had they been mopped, and he could see dust bunnies peeking out from under the leather brown couch that sat before the cobweb-filled fireplace. He might have thought the cabin was a relic of the olden prairie days, but there was a radio sitting atop the coffee table, and when he’d fumbled his way into the kitchen in search of a bathroom, he’d found a microwave and electric stove. No TV, but he wasn’t going to ponder on that for too long.

Once he’d located the bathroom down the narrow hall that lead to the bedroom, guest room, and office, he’d fallen to his knees and huddled over the toilet, hands clutching at his stomach. He threw up again, or tried to; there was only bile, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten in the last two days. He couldn’t even stomach the toast he’d nabbed off of someone’s finished tray-- and that was before the nausea started. Isaac steadied himself on the toilet seat with one hand while he took slow, deep breaths, and tried to settle the tremble of his shoulders. His abdomen was in pain again, more than it had been since he’d cauterized it. He winced and pulled up the bottom of his jacket, cursing under his breath to find it’d opened up on him again. “Bandages. Gotta find…” He used the hand on the toilet to steady himself to stand, then used the other to lean against the bathroom counter “...bandages.”

He opened the medicine cabinet, and inside only found pill bottle after pill bottle. Hey, maybe there’s something for pain relief? Not exactly what I need right now, but it’s something… The first three bottles he pulled down, one of which was half full, was labeled “melatonin”; the other four or five bottles were labeled “risperidone”, and were completely empty-- not that he would have taken any without knowing exactly what “risperidone” was. He was desperate, not stupid.

With a grunt, he carried himself into the kitchen again, hoping against all hope there was another cabinet in the house that had some form of first aid. If worse came to worst, he could cauterize it again. Isaac flinched; that wasn’t something he wanted to do. He opened up the first cabinet at the edge of the hallway first, then the one next to it, and found only tupperware and canned foods-- which was great, but he needed medical equipment more than he needed food. He opened the next cabinet and exhaled upon seeing a couple of ace bandages sitting in unopened boxes. Those weren’t the right bandages, per say, but they would certainly do. He grabbed both boxes and slid to the floor, going to work unwrapping his eye first.

It took him awhile to bandage himself up, but time had become a stranger to him; he glanced at the clock to find it was 3:14-- school would have let out a few minutes ago, had he still been in Mayview. Isaac raised one hand to the kitchen counter, using it to hoist his heavy body off the murky tile floor. He winced, pressing his other hand to his abdomen, hoping to ease the sharp, burning sting as he got up. His next stop would have to be the bedroom. He needed to rest, just for a little while… Isaac squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in a futile effort to ward away the dizziness that’d fallen over him, like a weight hanging from either of his ears, dragging him towards the floor. With a breath-- shaking, breath-- he carried himself down the hall, using the hand he’d pulled himself up with to lean against the rest of the way against the kitchen counter, and then the hallway wall when he came to it. He swallowed hard, noting with indifference how sore and dry his throat felt. He’d need to raid the kitchen when he woke up.

Once he’d found his way to the bedroom again, he pressed his entire body weight against the door, following it to the wall as it swung open, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He inhaled, sharply, and placed one hand on the oblong dresser that sat to the side of the bed. “Just a--” he coughed “...little farther.” He paused in mid-slump, closing his eyes and hoping to steady himself for a moment. The hand he carried his weight on was starting to grow sore, and he wondered how long it must have taken him to go from one end of the house to the other. He took another step forward, hand dragging only the way, until the tips of his fingers brushed something wooden, something cold. Isaac opened his eyes and turned his head, slowly because even a normal turn would have set him into another wave of nausea and vertigo. On the dresser sat a picture frame, a photo of a woman no older than Mister Spender, her dull brown eyes the color of the frame she sat upon. She was smiling, but he knew that smile, knew how the small curl of her lip was fake. What caught his attention was her hair, the orange hue, like a brighter chestnut, not quite as vibrant as an orange, but calmer, like his own. Subconsciously, he raised a hand and wiped away the dust that’d gathered over the frame, over her face, then pulled away and carried on towards the bed.

The bed was firmer than he would have liked, but the cushion still was miles and lightyears better than a bus-stop bench or the bend of a highway bridge, and his body relaxed the moment he hit the mattress. He didn’t even realize that he’d sighed, or that his muscles, which had been near constantly constricted, faltered and released. The heaviness of his eyes grew even starker, and Isaac squeezed his fingers through the sheets, as much as they smelled the mildew, and tangled them in the softness of cotton. It’d be nice to sleep in a real bed again, abandoned home or not.

His gaze fell upon the nightstand, eyes drawn to the black notebook that sat halfway open, like it’d been tossed aside in a hurry, in a panic. Maybe a clue? This place looks pretty untouched, so maybe they left in a hurry? Couldn’t pack? Well, if nothing else, it was reading material to fall asleep with.

Isaac took the notebook in one hand, then crawled under the covers, sighing again as his back hit the cushion and his head hit the pillows. He snapped the book open, surprised to find that most of the pages had been torn out-- all of them had been torn out… but one.

My dearest Norman,

I know you’ve been there for me. I know you’ve been trying. I just can’t do this anymore.

You don’t believe me. When I look into your eyes, when you’re holding me, I can tell. I keep telling you that I’m not seeing things, that I can touch them, that these shadows talk to me. And you had me convinced, just like everyone else, that I was crazy, that I needed medication. That I needed help. Mom was wrong, Dad was wrong, and Norman, you were wrong. And I’m tired. I’m tired of taking all of these stupid meds and I’m tired of you walking on eggshells around me, like I’m going to do something stupid! Like I’ll hurt myself! Like I’ll hurt you! Do you know what it’s like? Do you know how it feels to know the man you love is scared of you? To know he wonders if he’ll wake up the next day because he shares a bed with you? I’m not. crazy. And if you don’t believe me, if none of you are going to believe me, then I’ll find someone who does. I’m going home. Don’t bother looking for me-- and if Mom and Dad ask, pass it on.

“In other news, it’s been a little over a month since eighth grader Isaac O’Connor has gone missing--”

The TV blinked, and died, like a flash, and it took Zoey a moment to realize what happened. She pouted and twisted around the couch, leveling Max with her best glare as she eyed the remote in his hand, finger noteably pressed against the big red “power” button.

“Hey! Turn it back on!”

Max scoffed and climbed over the back of the couch to plop down beside her, lidded eyes staring her down. She lunged forward, reaching for the remote, but he was older than her-- and stronger, and a boy-- all he had to do was place his forearm below her chin and raise the remote out of grasp of her short, stumpy hands. “Shouldn’t you be watching something happy? Like a cartoon about ponies or something?”

Zoey huffed, nose scrunching. She fell back against the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. The glare stayed, though. “You don’t understand!”

“What? The basic interests of a gradeschool girl who wears her hair in a side pigtail and owns literal shelves of Baxborough Girl Dolls? Sorry, guess I missed the puberty memo. Oh wait… you’re too young for that still!”

“They found Isaac!”

Max’s sardonic grin fell away near instantly, jaw going slack as he hurriedly pressed the power button in direction of the TV, eyes wide, hands shaking. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Zoey misread something. Misheard something. Got Isaac’s case mixed up with another missing kid with ginger hair and baby blue eyes-- they couldn’t have found him!

“At around 2:30pm today, at Centerfly Park in Michitan City, local citizens spotted what appeared to be a young boy, no older than twelve years old.”

The station cut to a heavyset woman and her lanky boyfriend, who seemed just as aghast as two murder witnesses might be. The woman was shifting from side to side, tongue in cheek, shaking her head; her boyfriend had his hands and eyes on their golden retriever, scruffing the hair behind its perked ears, fingers nervous. “There ‘as something wrong with him, ya know? I wasn’t payin’ too much attention, but Mack and I heard a” she clapped her hands together “flap, and we turn, and there’s this boy on the ground, and there’s this circle around him…” She sucked her cheeks and shook her head. “He got up and ran. Looked freaked out.”

The camera gave a lengthy overview of the park, of the bathrooms, of the people wandering the stoned path lined by streetlights. “Locals say Isaac had a distinct wound over his right eye, and that he’s wearing jeans, a blue shirt, and a white jacket. He ran somewhere in the direction the the Centerfly Park forest, but he has left a trail of blood behind, and police are currently investigating where it leads.”

Spender closed the door to the principal’s office behind him, then sighed. Well, I suppose that went about as well as it possibly could have. He turned and carried himself down the hallway, notebook full of strategies tucked under one of his arms. We’re lucky the principal herself has been witness to shades, otherwise, I’d have been met with more of a challenge… and heaven knows things are complicated enough as it is. Now that they had the greenlight from the head of the school, they’d have to find a way to implement spectral courses into the curriculum. But before they even began doing that, they had to notify the students-- and parents-- that things were about to change; the issue was convincing the children who hadn’t been exhibiting spectral growth, and their parents, not to rat the entire paranatural world out to spectrals. The parents of actual spectrals, like Max’s father, they’d be swayed to keep their lips tight for fear of what might happen to their child if word got out-- nobody wants to envision their lineage being dissected under laboratory lights and scalpels; the parents of children with no spectral abilities, well, needless to say they wouldn’t have the same incentive. Spender raised a hand to readjust his glasses. How in the world would they pull this off?

“It’s simple.” Zarei crossed her legs under the cafe table, raising her teacup to her lips, savoring the earl grey-- its smell, its taste, its color-- in its entirety. Spender laughed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll just have to convince the students who aren’t spectrals that they are.”

“We can only keep that ruse up for so long…”

“Even so, it will buy you time.”

Spender took a small bite of his vanilla cheesecake. His appetite had long since diminished, and he had a feeling he’d have little desire to box it come time to head home. It would sit in his fridge for a few days, grow even more unappetising, he’d put off throwing it out because he promised himself he’d eat it later, then eventually, inevitably, throw it out with a heavy heart because what was once a perfect slice of vanilla cheesecake had grown old (green?) and disgusting.

He set his fork down.

“Instead of changing the story for each parent depending on their child’s status as a spectral, give them all the same story, and insert every child into whatever curriculum it is you’re concocting with the school.”

“Don’t you think the other children will notice that they’re not seeing auras like their peers are? Like their friends are?”

Zarei raised an eyebrow at him behind the rim of her teacup. “Convince them that their powers are coming, then.”

Spender laughed, halfheartedly, and settled his chin in the palm of his hand. “So this entire plan revolves around telling a handful of middleschoolers that they’re late bloomers? Children believe that scarcely.”

“Perhaps. But it’s something their parents will buy and reiterate.”

He sighed and lifted his fork, taking small stabs at the cheesecake, toying with the frosting lining the outtermost layer. His whole body had felt heavier lately, or maybe he just felt weaker. “I suppose so…”

Zarei looked up at him again, crooked brows turning to furrow instead. Her lips pursed that way they always did when she was worried-- worried about him. She set her teacup down, resting her pinkie on the table just before the bottom of the cup, deafening the clitter. “Richard.” She exhaled. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble for me to join you at the school-- take on half the workload. I’m quite starved for something to do since my tool is out of commission, anyway. I’m more than capable, at least until we can find somebody better suited than I.”

He was able to muster a smile, a genuine one, and the slightest tinge in his stomach signaled that his appetite had somewhat returned. “That would be a tremendous help. I couldn’t thank you enough.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” She smirked, a twinkle in her eye, and she reached out to open her silverware, ready to start on the salad she’d ordered. “Though, I can’t help but sense that there’s something else the matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play coy with me, you know I hate that.” She took a bite of her salad, and he took a bite of his cheesecake, if only to avoid answering long enough to come up with something to say, or at least throw her off the tracks of whatever it was she was prodding him to find. He often thought archeology would have been a nice fit for her, with such a tendency to dig. “There’s something else bothering you. What is it?” He winced, and her eyes drew to his torso. “Is it your chest? Is your wound bothering you again?”

“Er, no… in fact, it’s pretty much cleared up by now.” He gave her an awkward, half-toothy smile, then glanced at the television hanging on the wall behind her head. The rest of the televisions were displaying various sports, or even cartoons for kids less preoccupied with their food and more preoccupied with screaming for the attention of an inattentive parent. How lucky he was that he and Zarei had taken seats by the one TV displaying the local news-- or maybe she’d planned it that way, somehow. At first glance, the channel was covering the weather, after all they were getting into the autumn months, now, and hotter temperatures were dwindling away just as summer was. And then the next segment began, and his heart all but dropped into the lowest, furthest confines of the most acidic parts of his stomach.

Zarei’s nose twitched, and she turned around to look at the TV. “Now what could possibly be so important that you drop off mid-conversation--?”

Her eyes grew wide, and her jaw locked.

The school newspaper, funnily enough, had gotten no easier since the attack, and Suzy still hated the last words she typed up for the last article of the latest paper. She groaned and blew a raspberry, using the mouse to highlight the final paragraph in its entirety before deleting it. The part of her that’d spent hours and hours wording and rewording that paragraph screamed and threw things off the desk and cried over wasted time, but the perfectionist in her wielded a mental whip, and cracked it at the first sign of disobedience.

Suzy stretched her arms over her head and leaned back in her desk chair, watching Collin take bites of his breakfast bar, which was more a mid-afternoon snack than an actual breakfast. The sun was setting, and they should have left a good hour or two ago, but she was nothing if not stubborn, and she meant to finish that last paragraph even if it killed her. Collin looked up, eyes meeting hers, and she opened her mouth to say something, start a conversation--

Then Max came bursting through the clubroom door. “Isaac--!” He gasped then bent in on himself, hands at his knees as he began panting. Suzy leapt from her chair, and Collin all but fell backwards in his on his way up.

“What? Max, what?”

“They-- they found…” he huffed, then ran right up to her, eyes darting between her and the computer. It took her a moment before she realized he was asking for permission, which she granted with a frantic nod and two steps back. Max all but jumped at the keyboard, fingers moving so rapidly, she almost felt bad she’d restricted him to camera-guy in her fantasies. Collin came to stand at his other side, and in moments, Max had the local news station website up on the club computer. Max pulled up a video, then finally said: “They found Isaac!”

The video ran, and ran until it finished, and began again until Suzy reached out to stop it.

“Is there still information coming in?”

Max shook his head “No, they lost him, but at least we know what city he’s in.”

“That’s--!” Collin gestured around the room, eyes wide, panicked. “That’s not any help if he’s flipping dying!”

Max’s wide eyes turned dark, and the finger he raised to point at the video was rigid. Suzy squeaked and moved out of its way. “The video didn’t say he was dying. They said he was injured.”

“He left a trail of blood, Max!” Collin seemed unfazed, and Suzy was almost proud to see him level such a scary face, proud that she’d rubbed off on him, probably. But her attention was, first and foremost, on the article tied to the video. She’d skimmed it over, and then skimmed it over once more, but Collin was right… “People who aren’t dying don’t usually do that.”

Collin’s voice softened at the end, and Max fell silent. Suzy, strangely enough, couldn’t find a word to say, couldn’t look Max’s way for fear of the look on his face, the kind of worry that seeped into the bones and stayed there. Max’s hand fell from the monitor, then sat limply at the side of the desk.

There was a creaking sound, and it jolted Isaac awake.

The room was dark; the sun must have fallen while he was asleep, but realizing this and recognizing this did nothing to steady the vertigo that greeted him the moment he opened his eyes. The entire room spun, and rounded him in a blur. The overpowering smell of mildew was no help, and for a moment he thought he’d throw up right then and there. Sleeping was supposed to help him, let his body recover as he rested, but he felt even worse than he did before he’d snuck under dirtied and mussed covers.

He squinted, then closed his eyes and reopened them to a much clearer room-- to the much clearer vision of a woman standing at the doorway.

Isaac leaped up, grabbing the covers and tossing them off, and the stranger raised her hands in defense, taking a few steps forward into the light of the night sky peering in through the wall-length window of the bedroom. His aura flared, wide and wild, like an uncontained fire over his body. She chuckled, and he could hear she was nervous, but she still held her ground. “Hey, hey, hey! I’m not here to hurt you!”

She was young-- maybe in her mid-twenties, dressed like it too. Who wore a leather jacket with fingerless gloves-- oh right. She took another step closer, and he could see a streak of purple in the black bob that was her hair. Isaac pressed his back to the headboard, raising one hand cautiously to keep her at bay. “That’s fine. I have to leave now, and I need you to not call the police.”

“I can’t do that.”

Isaac sighed, and slid one leg over the side of the bed, readying himself to make a quick escape. He had no idea who this woman was, why she was there, or how she found him in the middle of a forest in an abandoned home… but it was sketchy, and he had more than enough injuries. “Look, you don’t understand!”

“I do. If you just let me explain, I can help you.”

Isaac frowned, and raised his hand higher, but nodded for her to continue. She sighed, and let her raised hands fall just a bit, elbows at waist-length, no longer at her chest. Her smile was calm, and confident, and he found himself interested in what she had to say.

Then there was a creak in the floor, and the stranger hadn’t moved.

Isaac whipped around, lightning cracking at his hand, blue entangling and covering his fingers. He could only make out of the vague shadow of a tall, broad-shouldered man, and then the world around him went dark.

The club, upon a call from Mister Spender, had collected in the clubroom, and were then watching him pace back and forth, chin in his hand. Max had been the first to show, before even Spender had made his way to the clubroom, and met inquiring glances with a grimace and a shrug. He sat huddled on the couch, one leg (which Spender would usually demand be set on the floor) pulled to his chest, other swinging lifelessly over the side of the couch. Isabel sat to his right, then Dimitri, both looking confused, though Dimitri was far deeper in thought.

“None of this makes sense.” Isabel leaned forward, elbow on her knee, cheek in palm. “How did Isaac get outside of the barrier?”

“That doesn’t matter just yet.” Dimitri hummed, eyes narrowed, somewhere far in the distance, passed the wall of the clubroom. “What matters is that they found a trail of his blood.” Isabel sluncked back into the couch, sliding in on herself as she fell silent. “We need to take the train out to him as soon as possible.”

Max shook his head. “We can’t.”

Dimitri blinked, eyebrow arched. “Why not?”

Isabel waved a dismissive hand, eyes shifting to the side. “Some things happened and the train is in a tool right now, recovering.”

“If it’s in a tool, that means it can be used.”

“Not without Doctor Zarei,” Isabel crossed her arms, lips in a thin line. There was a twitch in her, like her entire body couldn’t settle, like her nerves were fried and she couldn’t think straight. Dimitri was already watching her, but Max eyed her from the side. “Besides, we shouldn’t anyway! Isaac made that choice and he’s just gotta deal with it now.”

Spender halted in his pacing, turning on her with wide eyes, and Dimitri’s held no less surprise.

“Isabel…!”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

Isabel shrugged, squirming under the unwanted attention.

“Okay, you know what?” Max sat up, and Isabel lurched backward when he prodded his finger in her face, an inch from her nose. His aura began to fester around him, black, so black it might have been growing darker with every bit of him that grew anxious, that grew angry. “Holding onto a grudge is one thing, I get why you’re mad at him-- but actively not helping him when he might be bleeding out somewhere is-- is--!”

Isabel’s aura flashed, hot, bright red against Max’s black, teeth grinding, fists clenching. It took everything in her not to chomp down on the finger he stuck in her face, and so help her if it got any closer she might. She smacked his hand away and leaned closer, close enough that she could throw her head into his if she wanted to, leave a big bruise on his stupid face!

“Isaac is a traitor! He tried to sell us out to the entire world! Just because you got over it doesn’t mean I have! He could have gotten us all kill--!”

“Isabel.”

She froze. Mister Spender rarely spoke like that… spoke like that to her. He was a funny man, a kind man, and when he was mad, his voice was deep, guttural, and every bit as tremble-inducing as her grandfather’s. She bit down on her tongue, hard enough to make it bleed; she turned to look at him.

He was standing stiff, and though she couldn’t see passed his glasses, she could tell, she knew, she could feel the anger flaring there, the power she sometimes forgot he had. She couldn’t so much as twitch, she was paralyzed, staring back at him. He’d never been mad at her before, never like this. She felt a sting behind her eyes, and it was like she was a little kid, some stupid brat getting scolded for not sharing her toys, and she hated it. She hated being scared. Being guilty.

Spender turned away from her and walked to his desk, all at once releasing her from her prison and wringing her heart. She slumped further into her seat, biting down on the inside of her cheek. Max lost interest and turned to watch Spender, but Dimitri continued to stare.

Spender picked up his phone and dialed someone’s number, back turned to them. “I’m going to give Zarei a call. We’ll go searching for him tomorrow morning. Hopefully we won’t be too late.”

#Paranatural #maxaac #imaax #Maxwell Puckett #isaac o'connor #Isabel Guerra #Dimitri Danger #Suzy Paranatural #Collin Paranatural #Richard Spender #Mina Zarei #WOHT #The Monster Trilogy

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johnisntevendead · 7 years ago

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For the fall ask thing: 3, 6, 7, 11, 14, 15, 17, 18, 20, 22

*strums guitar* aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

3. haunted house

“Why do you want to do this?” Dolls demands as the linemoves. “Like, really, every day isHalloween, we get a day off and you wanna go to the haunted house. What’s that even about?”

Chin dropping and eyes widening, Wynonna smooths her handsdown the front of his sweater and says, “Haunted houses are fun. I’ll let you hold my hand in case you get scared, though.” Her voice is so low, so syrupy-sweet that hecan’t not be kissing her, a brief slide of his lips on hers, as she whispers,“Do you think you’ll get scared?”

“I’ll try to contain myself,” he mutters.

“Buddy, the line,” some guy behind him says.

“You’re so distracting,” he grumbles, pushing her untilthey’ve caught up with the people ahead of them.

“It’s what I do best,” she nods, threading their fingerstogether and leans into his shoulder. They’re close enough now to the house that they can hear screams. It’s just for fun, but he’s got a knee-jerkreaction to that sound for pretty obvious reasons. “Deep breaths, boss.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

They follow a group inside, and it’s too dark after the sunlightoutside, not even dusk yet—it smells like dust and a fog machine. He can just make out the figures of thepeople ahead of him, holds her hand maybe a little tighter than necessary.

He jumps when someone leaps out at him, illuminated brieflyin the quick, jerky strobe light. Hehears Wynonna’s quick, giddy giggle as she tugs him ahead, hears her startledshriek when someone else jumps out of another corner. She pulls his arm, they catch up with thegroup of people huddled close together at the next door.

When he screams when someone grabs his ankle, he knows he’smade his fatal mistake.

6. ghost stories

Baby monitor in the cup holder of her lawn chair, Wynonnaleans forward with her hands wrapped around a warm mug of spiked cider. Dolls watches her, bright eyes illuminatedoddly by the fire as she looks around at the others, circling the firepit. He knows what she’s doing before she evenopens her mouth. “I wanna tell you guysa story,” she says, voice pitched low. “AboutDisney.”

“Disney?” Nicole parrots, frowning.

“Yes, Disney, don’t ruin the mood,” Wynonna scolds. “So, there was this park that was abandonedby Disney, and they cited all sorts of reasons…” Dolls has read this one—because she made him—listens to her recite the storywith unnerving dedication, and she does a good job, riding the line of suspensefuland suspension of disbelief. As she getsto the part about the dressing room, her voice grows urgent, breathing staccato,her eyes wide and scared. She talksabout Mickey, photo-negative and crumbling, standing in the middle of the room,and he could almost see him swaying where he stands. “And then Mickey looks at him, and asks, ‘Hey,wanna see my head come off?’”

Her strange, strained Mickey Mouse voice is so perfectly wrong it makes the hairs onhis arms stand on end. Out of the cornerof his eye, he sees a shudder ripple through the others.

After she finishes her story, the others are completelysilent, and the only noise is the crackling of the fire.

“Quick question: whatthe fuck, Earp?” Nicole demands.

7. scary movies

“Oh, no,” Wynonna moans into his shoulder, eyes glued to thescreen. “Why did you pick this?”

“I’d never seen it before,” he says quietly, cringing at theunnerving, mask-like faces of the people on screen. They’d expected Waves and Nicole to jointhem, but as soon as they saw what they were planning on watching, neither evenbothered to come up with an excuse, just noped their way upstairs. He’s starting to realize the genius of theirforesight.

“This isn’t even that scary, I just don’t like them,” shemumbles, curling closer. “I wish they’dblink.”

“You know, if we don’t finish this, no one has to know,” heoffers.

Snorting, she pats the center of his chest and says, “But I’dknow, and I dunno if I can handle that.”

There’s an effective jumpscare and they both gasp.

11. pumpkin patch

This had really been Dolls’ idea—if she’s honest, Wynonnadoesn’t hate it. She looks over hershoulder and sees Sprout sitting on a picnic table next to Doc who’s seated onthe bench so they’re nearly on-level. He’sgot his hat tipped back, smile bright as he listens to whatever she’s saying. There’s something warm and fuzzy in her chestas she watches them. Dolls’ hand skimsher back as he asks, “Cocoa or cider?”

“Cider,” she says, looking back up at him; then, shecontinues fondly, “This is so cheesy.”

“Yeah, but fun,” he counters.

“Fun,” she huffs. They get their drinks, warm their bare hands on paper cups. She carries Doc’s cider as well, while Dollshas his and the cocoa that he’d gotten for Sprout, cooled with cold milk.

As they trek back, footsteps crunching brown grass, shehears, “—and then Ava bet he couldn’t slide on the ice—”

“And that’s how Michelle became the proud mother of thefirst five-year-old detention of the year,” she mumbles confidentially toDolls. “Honestly, I thought it’d be me.”

“Honestly, me too,” he shoots back.

As cheesy as Wynonna may find it, Sprout has fun runningthrough the pumpkin patch, plucking oddly-shaped ones and offering them untileach of them is carrying their own misshapen gourd. “Mine looks like a Batman villain,” Wynonnawhispers. There’s a barn where an oldwoman dishes up homemade applesauce, the space taken up almost entirely bytables and carving stations. She andSprout have way too much fun diggingout pumpkin guts, sleeves rolled up to their elbows and paper aprons on but notentirely protecting their clothes from the gore.

“I worry about you,” Dolls says mildly as she makes soundeffects for her pumpkins death rattle and claws the last of the stringy seedsfrom inside.

14. baking

been done, my friend

15. bobbing for apples

Looking like someone challengedher, Wynonna throws her hair up and Dolls laughs, whispers, “I like the greenones,” as he brushes his lips to her white-painted cheek. She winks and gets on her knees, handsgrasped behind her back, as she waits for Chrissie Nedley to give her and theothers kneeling at the kiddie pool full of water and apples the go ahead. When she does, Wynonna lunges forward. Dolls laughs, hears people cheering otherson, watches her chase the elusive fruit. There’s a little fighting, a lot of splashing, she elbows Nicole next toher playfully.

Soon, though, she sits up, green apple clutched in herteeth, and turns to grin at him around it. She’s the first to stand, the fake blood that had smeared her chin andneck now faded away to a pinkish stain. She crunches down loudly and offers the rest.

“Proud of me, boss?” she teases as he takes a bite.

“Always, love,” he says earnestly.

With a quick eye roll, she shrugs and pulls her hair out ofits ponytail.

17. caramel/candy apples

also done

18. wine tasting

20. crunching leaves

After a while, Dolls realizes the growing tension in theroom is mostly because Wynonna’s starting to go a little stir-crazy. When he can’t possibly stand the antsy wayshe’s been fidgeting for the last, like, hour anymore, he stands and asks, “Youwanna go for a walk?”

“God, yes,” she huffs, pushing her chair back with a creakand shoving to her feet. “Coffee, let’sgo get coffee. From not here.”

He grabs his jacket as they leave the room, and at Nicole’squestioning look from the front desk, he explains, “Coffee run. Usual?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she says, and he can feel her frown afterthem.

Outside, he hears Wynonna’s deep inhale, her slow exhale,but her face is pinched and tense and closed off. He thinks he knows what’s going on—it’s beenquiet lately, and they needed the break, but it’s hard to feel like the momentthey fully unclench the world’s gonna go to shit around them again. It would almost be better to be in constantmotion than to get a break you can’t trust. He takes her hand in his as the sidewalk begins, blanketed by dryleaves, every footfall a crisp crunch. She puffs out a sigh and frowns over at him.

“My hair is doing the tingling thing again,” she finallysays. “Something’s coming, and it’sgonna be bad, and people are gonna die, and—”

“Hey,” he interrupts gently, combing his fingers through herhair, “When something else comes up, we’ll take care of it. It’s okay not to be able to saveeveryone. You physically cannot saveeveryone.”

“Pep talk needs work,” she mumbles, but something in herseems to loosen as she leans into his touch.

22. raking leaves

“I would not be doing this if you weren’t broken, I want youto know that from, like, the depths of my soul,” Wynonna says haughtily.

“And I really, really appreciate you doing it!” Nicole callsfrom the porch, leaning on a crutch under the arm that isn’t in a cast. “Like, Iappreciate it so much, you’re such a good friend!”

Pausing, Wynonna rocks the rake back and forth beforeasking, “Doctors give you the good drugs?”

“They sure did,” she grins.

“Go inside before you freeze your tits off—you know Waveswould never forgive me,” she says, firm and serious. Shaking her head and laughing, Nicole atleast does as she’s told. In spite ofthe cool fall air, it only takes a few minutes for her to shed her jacket. The yard isn’t exactly small, and Wynonna decides as she’s finally packing away the lastpile of dead leaves that she’s really gotta review the Black Badge hierarchicalchart to see how on earth she endedup being the one with this job. Her noseis numb and her palms are red and starting to feel a little blistered.

After tossing the rake back into Nicole’s shed, she snagsher jacket on her way up to the door, hollering, “Not for nothing, but a reallyappreciative host would have made me coffee.”

“Rude,” Nicole mumbles from the couch, injured leg proppedup on a pillow on the arm. “And I did make you coffee, so there.”

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justjessame · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 35: Feels Like The First Time...Well, If the First Time Happened After Our Kid Popped Out of Me...

Negan led me through our rooms to the kitchen. Once there, he took Kiara from my arms and kissed my forehead. “Go get a long warm bath, princess, I’m gonna get this little doll ready for her sleepover.”

I raised an eyebrow. Sleepovers at six weeks? Shaking my head, I understood that he was trying to give me some down time. A little bit of me time before the we-time. For that reason, I walked over to him, kissed our daughter’s soft head, and brushed my lips against his.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered up to him, and then I made my way to our bedroom, thinking that if he was going to make plans for us, then I’d find my own way to surprise him as well.

I took advantage of my time in the bathroom. I took a long, hot bath, soaking in the water. When I got out, I dried myself and took my hair down. I brushed it out, leaving it down, since I knew how much he loved my hair down. I walked into our bedroom, hearing him fussing with something in the kitchen, I smiled and walked to the dresser. I rummaged until I found a set of the lingerie that he’d filled the drawer with until I came across something that would fit and wouldn’t make me feel stupid.

Red lacy, but with the added function of holding in what I’d like to have held in, while pushing up what I needed pushed up, I had to hand it to my husband. He had interesting taste. Once I had the ribbons and lace in place, I opened up the dress side of my closet. It took less time to find what I could cover Negan’s present up with, and as an added bonus, it was held together with a simple bow. Perfect. And the color of it paired perfectly with my coloring and covered the bright red of the lingerie under it. I grabbed a pair of strappy black heels, with a thick enough heel that was sturdy enough to not make me feel like I was tilting over, and my outfit, and Negan’s gift was complete.

“Callie?” I heard him calling from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready, sweetheart.”

Dinner? That would explain the noises from the kitchen. Negan was going all in on date night. I walked out of our bedroom and to our kitchen carefully. I hadn’t worn heels in far too long and falling asshole over teacups would fucking ruin the image I was trying to create. When I got to the kitchen, I had to smile.

“Spaghetti?” I asked, causing him to look up from a table he’d draped in white, candles in place and hell he even had wine glasses.

Those dimples, those eyes, shit I was done for. “You said you liked my sauce.” Ooh boy, did I. “Come over here, gorgeous.” His eyes were devouring the vision I’d made, from my toes peeking out of the heels to the hair I’d left hanging freely down my back, if eye fucking were real, I’d be a puddle.

When I reached the table, he held out my chair, kissing my cheek as I sat. His hands brushed through my loose hair, pulling it so it hung over the chair back. I took in our plates, he’d recreated our first meal, adding a bottle of brown liquor and a bottle of wine. I was biting my lip when he joined me, waiting to see how far we’d actually make it through dinner before he or I couldn’t take it a moment longer.

Negan sat and offered me a choice between wine and what I realized was whiskey. “Shouldn’t you card me first?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. His answering smirk told me I was pushing my luck, but he knew me and my mouth.

“You sayin’ you’re jailbait, princess?” Ah that deep darkness that I missed so badly.

I smiled down at my plate and picked up my fork. “Don’t think you ever asked me for my age, baby.” I was twirling my pasta around my fork. “Besides, I probably shouldn’t drink-” I was thinking of feeding Kiara, even with the boon of formula they’d found.

He shook his head, and took my hand across the table. “One drink, even that pregnancy book says it’s alright.” My eyes met his. “As for your age, I think I’m more than safe on that one, after all, you’re not fucking wearing the plaid dress.” He winked and I had to laugh.

“Got me there,” I answered, linking our fingers. “Wine, I guess, never had much of a taste for it, but pretty fucking sure that the whiskey would kill me.”

I had a glass of wine, and Negan took a tumbler of whiskey. Our hands parted as we dug into the dinner he’d prepared. We talked, returning to the easy way we’d had before the baby came, the same way we did after she arrived, the way we’d talk to one another until the day we died. I was laughing, feeling a little looser once my glass was empty and noticed our plates were empty. How was it that this man could distract me enough that I rarely noticed what I’d eaten, or drank?

“Looks like dinner’s over.” I offered, glancing up at my husband taking his final swig of whiskey. “What did you have planned for the rest of the night, Negan?” My voice was quiet, daring him.

He sat his tumbler carefully on the table top. “I thought I might unwrap my gift.” I smiled, so he’d noticed. “Unless you’ve got something else in mind, Callie?” Ah, a challenge returned.

I stood and sauntered to where he sat across from me. Like magic, he pushed his chair away from the table and my grin grew. What an eager man. I let my hand reach out and traced his face and lips with my fingertip. “It’s been six weeks,” I moved closer, stepping between his legs when he parted them. “Six LONG weeks, Negan.” I heard the air rush from him when I sunk to my knees. “Guess I’m still a little thirsty.”

My hands went to work on his belt, button, and zipper, as his mouth crashed down on mine. God, I missed this. Him, that mouth, and as my hands met his hardness, definitely this. I pulled away from his kiss and pushed him back against the chair-back. “Relax, baby.” His hands slid through my hair and I smiled up at him as I finally got to take him back into my mouth.

I took my time, enjoying him in the way that he’d enjoyed me this morning. Dear Lord, the taste of him on my tongue was far better than the wine, or the taste of whiskey on his mouth, more intoxicating. Those long fingers of his covered my scalp, guiding me to where he wanted me most, but also holding me carefully, reverently. Before I was given my due, he pulled me gently away, eyes blazing.

“Not yet, princess.” And then I was in his arms, straddling him on his chair as he kissed the very breath from me. He groaned, his mouth leaving mine to trail down my cheek to my neck where he nuzzled against me. “Fuck, I’m conflicted.”

Licking my lips, I fought against rocking against him, thinking if he were that fucking close I’d rather not waste it. “Why?” I was still breathless.

“Part of me wants to tug that bow and open my present right fucking here and now,” I nodded, liking that idea fucking a lot. “Another part of me wants to wait until we get to that fucking bed where I can spread you out and open you up exactly the way I love to.” Jesus, maybe door two wasn’t such a bad fucking idea.

I felt one of his hands leave my back and then he tugged pulled from below me. And then he stood, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I saw over his shoulder his abandoned jeans, boots, and underwear and nearly laughed. Nearly because that was when his mouth met my shoulder and I felt his teeth grazing my skin. Fuck. My hands went to his head, holding his face to my skin, wanting to feel more.

And then we were in our room and I was back on my feet in front of him. Before his hand could reach for the tie holding my dress on, I tugged his t-shirt up and over his head. Naked Negan was something I would never get enough of seeing, or enjoying. He smiled as his hand finally reached out and slowly pulled the bow free. As my dress parted, I watched his eyes drink in the present that I’d wrapped so carefully for him and I heard him inhale through his nose, and his free hand clench.

That’s the very last thing I noticed, because he had me on the bed in no time flat. And my legs were wrapped around his hips, he was deep inside of me and I felt what I’d always feel with him. The overwhelming feeling of being home, of pleasure, of power and HIM.

Negan’s date night was amazing. Until I had to remind him of a reality that I think he’d pushed out of his mind. The fact that we weren’t going to be able to finish our lovemaking in the same amazing way we normally would. I wasn’t prepared to go through childbirth again so soon, and he most certainly wasn't willing to go another six weeks without me, so I had to negotiate with him in a way that most men may have once dreamed for.

“Negan?” I was whispering in his ear as he was climbing toward his own release, a feeling I knew well from our months together. “Baby, you know you can’t-”

He growled, pulling his head away from where he’d buried it in my shoulder, still thrusting toward that final goal. His eyes locked on mine, almost daring me to stop him.

“Sweetheart,” I tried, my hands cupping his face, not stopping the delicious feeling of him sliding through me. “Think back to your favorite porn movie.” His eyes widened. “Where would you rather? Skin or mouth?” And his eyes closed as he moaned at the mere thought of it. “Your fantasy, baby, just not the usual one.”

Later, wrapped around one another in an entirely different, yet still intimate way, I felt him laugh silently. Looking up, his eyes met mine and he stopped trying to hide the sound. I shook my head. “You gonna share the joke?”

“You.” I raised an eyebrow. “Not YOU, but when you had to tell me that we couldn’t,” his laughter came again. “Shit, telling me to think about porn and then pick nearly ruined your whole fucking problem, baby.”

I giggled. “I forgot,” I said, cupping his face with my hand. “I meant to bring it up earlier, but then-”

“Distracted,” he leaned forward and kissed me. “We were pretty fucking distracted.”

“You know you have another choice?” I offered, feeling butterflies in my stomach at the thought of how final this other choice would be.

His raised eyebrow was all I got to continue. “Vasectomy.” One word and I could swear ALL the air left the room.

“You want that fucking quack downstairs to come near my fucking cock and balls with a scalpel?” I bit my lip, he wasn’t screaming, it was a quiet roar. “Do you only want one kid?” And the hurt that came after was more upsetting to me than the first.

“I didn’t say that, Negan.” I answered, pulling the sheets up around me and rolling onto my own pillow. “I just thought I should say it’s an option.”

“A fucking horrible option.” He answered, tugging me off my pillow and back onto his chest. “We’ve been apart enough, Callie, don’t fucking make my head explode.” His lips met my forehead. “I like the porn option.”

I chuckled. “Good, because I don’t hate it, either.”

#negan x ofc #The Walking Dead #Smut

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