LA is a dreamy kind of summer hot, and Katya is in love.
(AN: so funny story, I was stuck on a bus for four hours without wifi today which meant I couldn’t finish editing chapter five of honest world, which is fully written and – I promise – will be up on wednesday instead. while stuck on this bus i had the picture of trixie that katya posted today open on my phone and i kept LOOKING at it and… well. this happened. sorry. herein lies almost 4k of pure disgusting fluff set during trixie and katya’s (speculative) pre-all stars romp across LA this week. consider this an early apology for all the angst chapter five is gonna unload on you!)
**inspired by a post I saw where Regina uses her magic mirror to check in on the Queen and Robin Locksley**
It’s been over a year since she has checked in on the Queen, a small little peek into the other woman’s life just to make sure that everything is okay, that they are okay. And so far, everything seems good, really good. She’s had a couple chuckles over watching this other version of herself lose the royal thickness about her and become a woman of the forest. Long gone are the jewelled cloaks and high heels, all which have been traded in for more sensible clothing, furs, trousers and a bow on her back. It reminds her of the time she herself spent as a bandit, for that moment in time where she had been on the run from an Evil Queen and an outlaw had come to her rescue. It’s odd, to watch it play out in real life.
But this other Regina seems happy now that she’s stopped grumbling about living in the forest. It suits her. Suits them. And while they may live in a forest, Regina can’t help but smile at the fact that apparently you may be able to take a Queen out of her royal castle, but you can’t quite take all of royalty out of the Queen. They live comfortably, in a large-ish cottage on a hill surrounded by trees overlooking a lake. Thanks to her magic, they have everything they need, even indoor plumbing, a note Regina did laugh at. But Robin is still Robin. He still hunts and lives off the land, and makes campfires beneath the stars.
She’d watched them one night, tucked on a couch together underneath a blanket, a calm flickering of orange glow from the hearth beating about them as Robin combed through her hair till her eyes closed. She hadn’t meant to watch them as long as she had, feeling like a peeping tom and all, but Robin had waited till his Regina was nearly asleep, breathing heavier than a few minutes prior when he rustled gently in his pocket, and pulled out a small little box. She’d watched as his eyes trailed back down to the near asleep woman on his chest, a small smile creeping into his dimples as he kissed her temple and begun to play with her left hand.
Her heart had thundered as she sat silently in her room, absorbed in them and what was about to happen. He’d kissed her cheek, placed a few to her temple, and across her brow until she grinned in her sleep, curling further into his arms, as he pulled her gently awake. The Queen’s eyes had drifted blissfully open, contentment swirling about in them, at least until she saw the box Robin had pressed into her palm.
Regina’s breath had hitched at the same time the Queen’s had, the mirror in her hands creeping closer as she waited to see what the other woman would say, knowing the answer in her heart already. His voice was low, curious and full of love as he asked her the question, the Queen’s eyes flickering up from the diamond to his gaze, stunned, before she broke out into a smile, and nodded, pulling him down to meet her lips that ceased to stop grinning. She’d put the mirror down after that, wiped away a few tears she wasn’t sure were from longing or happiness. That had been the last time she’d seen them, snuggled together in their home, newly engaged.
She doesn’t do it often anymore, gaze into her magic mirror and see how they are, because it feels a bit strange sometimes, to see a life she could have lived going on in front of her eyes. It brings about an ache in her heart, wondering if she and her Robin would have lived this way, happily together. Maybe that’s why her checking in on them have been fewer and farther in between over the past two years. She is content that they are happy, that she was able to be a part of making that happen.
But something just felt a little different today, Henry had left for a school trip for a week and she was feeling a bit lonely in her mansion. For a few hours she’d managed to occupy her mind with cooking dinner (for one). Had made apple turnovers she’d not yet touched and had a long bath, even done her nails. And it’s only eight o’clock. Too early to fall asleep, nothing to capture her attention on TV, her book long finished.
Humming to herself, she thumbs the mirror on her bedside table, gnawing at the fact she wants to see them, that maybe, for a few minutes she’ll allow herself to pretend it’s her and Robin instead. Just a few minutes, ten tops. Sinking beneath the covers, she sighs, turning the glass towards her face and whispers out, “Mirror Mirror on the Wall, show me what I want to see most of all.” It glows a deep purple, bright and swirling in her palm till the light settles and the image fades into view.
It’s day time there, warm sun pooling into an empty living room, though seems no one is home. The thought makes Regina pout, unamused, what is she supposed to do now? Huffing out a breath, she sets the mirror aside, as stares out the window silently. The quiet is nice, she supposes. Not what she wanted, but what can she do about it? Settling into her pillow her eyes flutter shut, and she pictures Robin beside her, or maybe downstairs, frowning adorably at the appliances he’d yet to figure out.
She’d lost a toaster and a coffee pot whilst he was here and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. The sheepish look he’d given her as she’d walked into the kitchen to put out the fire alarm blaring away due to another smoke bomb from a destroyed instrument far too precious to have her irritation even flare a bit. He’d apologized, run his hand through his hair and sighed at the small carnage he’d created. But she hadn’t care, would just shrug and kiss him happily, letting her wrist flick and restore the appliance back to it’s working state. She liked those moments. Domestic ones between the two of them, it felt like normalcy had finally begun to settle into her life.
A muffled voice cues her attention back to the mirror beside her as she fumbles and flips it back over, light streaming into the cottage as a door swings open and she sees the other Regina walk into the living room, carting a basket on her hip and a smile on her lips. “I’ll be right there!” She calls back out over her shoulder, heaving the load from her arms onto the table. Robin must be outside.
She looks different. Her hair tied into a loose braid that swings over her cotton clothed back, face void of all makeup and dirt under her nails. It’s not the first time Regina has been amused at the sight of the once regal royal all dirtied up playing house. It’s nice. She dusts off her pants, makes her way quickly to the kitchen on the left just out of Regina’s view. In the distance she swears she can hear more than just one voice. Robin’s certainly, but there is someone else there with him, someone younger. Her heart flutters as a hushed laughter echoes around her. It sounds just like–
“Roland! Come back here.”
She freezes under her blankets, jaw dropping and eyes watering as she sees the mop of brown curly hair rush into the cottage. He looks exactly the same, a bit bigger no doubt, with the time that has passed, but his face hasn’t changed from the picture in her memory. Big button brown eyes, chubby dimpled cheeks, two new missing front teeth as he shouts cheerfully into the kitchen from the sofa he’s landed himself on. His little chest puffs in and out, and Regina can’t help the tears that fall, nor the way her fingers trace his face. She misses him so goddamn much. Kicks herself everyday for not being able to figure out how to get to him somehow.
“Hello, my little archer.” The Queen smiles as she steps back into the room, flopping herself down beside him, lips playfully coating his cheeks in affection as he squeals in delight beneath her.
Regina’s heart clenching at the sight of him moving to settle into the Queen’s lap, grinning up at her as his hands part, revealing a perfectly sliced apple, well almost perfectly sliced, one half is surely larger than the other. “I did it!”
“I see that! You’re getting better than Robin!”
“Yup!” Roland munches triumphantly on his half he hadn’t relinquished into the Queen’s hands.
“Oh you think so, eh?” Robin comes into view, his hair tousled on his forehead, a grin beaming as he settles down beside them with a smirk. “Should I tell Little John you’re about to take over as the leader of the Merry Men then, yeah?”
“Let him down easy, he’s a sensitive guy.” The Queen winks as she nuzzles down into Roland’s hair. “Speaking of which, he’ll be by rather soon to come collect you.”
“Awww, Gina, do I have to go?”
The pout he sends her is beautiful, as is the smile she sends back. Regina still sits enraptured on her bed, can’t help but feel a flutter in her stomach. They found each other. All of them. How she doesn’t know, but what does it matter anyway? It’s a perfect picture glowing out from her mirror. “You need to get some sleep or else you will fall asleep on the way tomorrow, and be a little grumpy toad.”
“No I won’t!”
Robin laughs, laces his fingers behind Roland’s back with the Queen’s, “Perhaps we can convince him to let you stay the night.”
“We all know he is an easy turn if you show him just how good your archery has gotten, maybe he’ll seen reason in letting you stay and practice some more.”
Roland bounds between them, whooping and hollering as he grabs his small bow and arrow and races back outside, his cheering still heard from the quiet that surrounds the pair still on the couch. Robin turns his eyes from the doorway back to his wife who leans her head on the soft brown cushions, humming happily when he moves closer to her, draping her legs across his thighs, and tugging her tighter into him with a smiling kiss to her lips. The seemingly innocent kiss suddenly turns into something far more heated, a moan in the back of the Queen’s throat has Regina flushing hot, best be time to go.
Her hand begins to wave across the mirror, but her eyes glue to the placing of Robin’s hand on the Queen’s stomach, and she lets her magic fizzle out. They smile, a bashful blissful thing, eyes meeting one another’s before Robin shimmies down between the Queen’s thighs, his hands cupping a small swell Regina hadn’t noticed before.
“Hello, my boy. How are we this afternoon?”
The Queen cards through his hair, tilts her chin down and smiles as he begins talking to her bump, Regina hanging onto every muffled word and mischievous, cheerful grin he sends back up at his lover before focusing back down to the task of talking to their unborn child. “Now, you stay safe and warm in there and try to ease up on your mother for a while okay?” His kisses the swell and moves back up to buss the former Queen’s lips. “We should start thinking of names.”
“Do you have anything in mind?”
Robin bites down on his lip, brow creasing as he scoots back down to the barely there bump. “Well, my father’s name was Richard.”
“Baby Boy Richard?” She cringes hard.
They both lock eyes before sharing a laugh, Robin shaking his head, “A definite no.”
“What about Rigel?”
The Queen shrugs, “I kind of like it.”
“As do I. And for a middle name?”
Regina soaks in the moment. Little Rigel. She wonders if he will look like Robin, or maybe a smaller version of Roland, her complexion to Marian is close enough anyway. And when the Queen whispers out a name, Regina’s heart stills, eyes flush with new tears.
“I know that you didn’t really know him, either of them, my father or my son, but I’d like to…”
Her words are cut off by another melting of Robin’s lips to her own. “Say no more, Rigel Henry Locksley it is.”
“Of course, my love. It’s perfect.”
They settle in together, lacing their hands over their baby boy safe in Regina’s belly.
“You’re sure you want to go tomorrow? We can wait a few days for you to feel better you know.”
“You sure? You’re only a few weeks along, we don’t even have to go.”
She kisses him again, slow and steady before nodding, “I promise I’m fine, it’s not as bad as it was with Rae, that’s for sure.” Her eyebrows arch momentarily, “Plus, we promised Roland we’d take him.”
“He’d understand if you aren’t feeling up to it.” He rubs down her legs and back up her arms, saddling a fraction closer to her on the sofa.
“I know, he’s a good little boy, but I swear, I’m okay.”
“You’d tell me if you weren’t right? We can turn around anytime you want.”
He frowns, though the Queen chuckles, “You worry too much.”
She bumps his nose with her own as he sighs through a laugh, “I know, but it’s only cause I love you’re cooking and can’t imagine having to go back to eating boiled rabbit.” He jests at her, dimples on full display, as she scoffs, slaps his chest half heartedly.
“That’s why you married me? For my cooking skills?”
“Well that,” he leans in to catch her lips once more, “and maybe a few other things.”
Clearly something, no matter the realm or version never changed.
She huffs, pecks his lips a few times more, “Roland’s waiting. I’ll be right there.”
Robin smiles through his lingering concern, nuzzling into her neck for a few well placed kisses before extracting himself from her body, letting his hand circle across her stomach a few more times. “Speaking of little ones, shouldn’t she be up by now?”
“Probably, if we want to actually get some sleep tonight.” The Queen hums, running her own hands along the small swell as Robin stands, kissing her forehead one last time before whispering gently, “I’ll see you outside, my love.”
Regina watches as Robin leaves the Queen still smiling on the couch, soothing her hand over her stomach. This she certainly wasn’t expecting to see… an expecting version of herself. Where she’d figured envy would creep in, there is nothing. Well not nothing, there is a bubble of calmness that surrounds her as she smiles at the sight.
“Mama?” A little voice calls from up the stairs.
“Coming baby!” The Queen stands, and skips up the steps quickly and Regina can’t help but wait to see what their daughter looks like, what her and Robin’s daughter may have looked like. The room grows quiet as she sits up taller against the headboard, brushing a lock behind her ear, she needs a haircut, desperately so. But Robin liked it long, and she can’t really find it in her to shear it again. Oh well, unruly waves be damned, it will stay this length at least for a little while longer.
The sound of footsteps and happy bubbling laughter brings her eyes back to the mirror, the brown boots of the Queen coming into view first, her thighs and then a small dangling pair of matching boots at her waist. It’s all long brown curls hiding a little face burrowed into her mother’s neck. She can’t be more than twelve months, a baby still. A beautiful giggle muffled by the Queen’s own humming chuckle as she balances her daughter on her hip, whispering something Regina can’t quite catch.
“Shall we go see your daddy?” She turns and makes her way to the door, bouncing the little girl on her hip, and as they begin to walk away from the wall mirror Regina watches them from. Her eyes lock onto a pair of sky blue sparkling ones, chubby pink cheeks, dimples and a perfect rosy pout. For a second the little girl almost seems to sense her, and Regina can’t help but wave her fingers slowly as mother and daughter walk into the distance, and just before she loses sight of them, five little fingers wave back.
She laughs, brushes the tears off of her cheeks and sets the mirror down, her heart blooming and bursting at its seams. Her eyes close as she nestles back into bed, her mind swirling with the image of the perfect little family she had a part in bringing together, and something settles in her, a sense of calm and understanding that this will be the last time she uses the mirror, they have found a happily ever after, after all.
This room is so cluttered it’s not worth writing about
With the boxes that recently held barely worn shoes and this year’s razor if only it were empty
But these oddly shaped walls are the only ones I have to hold my aura so I’m thankful the same
Because I am compelled to be contained and I can’t shake the memories
of how good it felt when I was free to spit all my deepest thoughts to anyone I barely knew and even my secrets went out to seven or eight people and I don’t know why I don’t talk to them all anymore. But it can’t be proper in this century to speak of things so freely. But I cry for the interactions (a word, a nod, a signal, a little breath) because it’s the only way I’ve learned to ask for anything (not out loud).
One thing you can’t learn from biology is not everyone can breathe the same air it’s out there and the things I think keep me alive I’ve barely even tried but I know it’s not enough substance for anyone I’ve learned to care for so I stay here and I gulp the local oxygen and always look like I’m drawn by a different artist than my surroundings and it’s either draw attention or pull on the mask against my will. So every day more details get filled in and I pretend that’s what makes my headache and not the change in seasons and my weak sinus cavities because I can’t admit something as mundane as my body brings me so far down.
So we go to our different corners and draw our ideal spaces and there’s barely anything in common. Mine’s like pieces of different puzzles pulled forth in a time machine and yours is pristine and fits anywhere but here. So maybe we should leave you say and my knee jerks and says how could I, I’d be alone forever, but what’s the difference when you can’t pick up the phone anyway? So maybe we should leave and set up posts in a new city or state or country only I can’t consider because when I was a child I couldn’t handle change and now I can’t tell anyone who knew me then that it’s changed even though I’ve been burying those feelings since I was sixteen and figured out the name they gave me didn’t fit right. Never been to Chicago. Never been to Cleveland.
But you say it’s too late to change and I’ve never made my beds so I’ll have to sleep in what’s here. But if it’s too late to change why am I still breathing so I breathe until it clears me but only for a minute because I’m still not being heard and I’m still not being open and it can’t be too late because I’m still breathing. I’m still in my thirties I can still try to invent me. I can still figure this out but I might need some help.
By the time you read this, I will already have been changed Do not reply to this, after I’ve experienced maximum pain No longer good to anyone, and never would be again Know that I spent my final days, endlessly tying the endless loose ends
One last look around the place, with sun shining into empty room For the final time I close the door that will open for someone new
The only change I make before I leave, is in the bedroom of my dreams Where I covered the walls in deep blue paint, rather than my blood and my brains
Yoonmin>Fluff>PG-13>Jimin is the Preist's son and Yoongi is the gang leader they all pray for every Sunday.
“When I was a kid,” Yoongi says as smoke escapes his parted lips, barely visible, white on faith rose, “my grandfather was a preacher. He’d talk about God. Ironic, isn’t it?” he smiles, hollow and empty. Jimin bites his lips; he never knows what to say.
Yoongi isn’t somebody who needs advice, guidance. He isn’t a mama’s boy, innocence is long lost in dark alleyways and bruised knuckles, in wounds that never truly heal and tears that never roll down his cheeks.
Sentiment is lost somewhere in the cracks of his childhood and streets that smell like rust and recession. His memories are faint, sun-bleached polaroids scattered in empty rooms with bare walls. Yoongi rarely talks about it. Jimin wants to ask, but never does. This bond they’re sharing is too fragile, it could snap at any moment. Jimin can’t risk that.
I wonder who is more lonely.
The ocean or the sky.
The moon or the sun.
The lover in a empty room, waiting for the return of their world.
The soldier at the bottom of a trench, waiting for the end.
I wonder who cries out more often.
The clouds or waterfalls.
The child or the mother.
The otter lost in a river rushing toward the sea with no hand to hold.
The monkey in the trees with no vine to swing, no leaves to cling, no fruit to eat.
I wonder if there will be a tomorrow.
Will we wake or sleep forever.
Will it be our last day on earth
or has that day already passed.
Do we dream endlessly?
I think I know why I struggle to fall asleep without you.
I think I know why I stare at my phone wishing for a simple ‘goodnight’ or 'sweet dreams’.
Because I feel it all,
the longing of the ocean, sky, moon and sun;
the echoes of the clouds, waterfall, child, mother.
I feel it all.
And if tonight is really going to be my last
then I want my dream to begin with you.
I want my dream to begin with you.
Elzaro | I want it to begin with you (February 10th 2014)
A/N : heyyy , new imagine. This was inspired by many things and musicals.
The cold winter air peered through my thin blue buttoned up dress, as I wrapped my arms around me to keep what was left of the warmth. It was late , later than mom allowed me to go about. But the local store was not busy at all, therefore , there was no crowd to be mixed in and thus I could not steal. I had to wait for people to arrive, so that I am able to get two tomato cans and a toothpaste. I believe the old man that owned the store has been onto me for a while now , but he hasn’t said anything yet. I’d get the supplies. Stuff them in my bra , which I only wore for that reason alone , since I have no boobs, and then run home. But all that was way before midnight. I’d seen how midnight in Carningham street evolved, I’d seen it from my window. And now as I realized I was about to face it , I shivered all over. Everything changed after the war. People tried to spend as less as they could on anything. Which is why , the street lights never opened , until it was impossible to see through the dark.
‘’shit !’’ I mumble as my toe meets the end of a barrel outside what must’ve been a pub. That’s it . too dark. This is the first time I am out, and it is too dark.
The lights are on. I hear soft music that gets louder with every passing second, and through the closed black doors. Paved gray lonely alleys , crawl people. Sailors, pub owners, sellers, baby dolls, they all crawl from their corners as they crowd the streets. My fair , pale complexion discriminates me from their red painted cheeks , and blue eye shadows, and my torn, but surprisingly clean light blue dress, makes me stand out in the sea of their red, beige and purple fluffy dresses, rich cleavages , and exposed laced thighs. A man’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
‘’LOVELY LADIES ! BABY DOLLS !’’ he rings a bell in a constant beat. No matter how filthy, dirty and disgusting these people are, they bring the post war cloudy streets to life. Suddenly I feel a pinch nail on my chin, lifting it up.
‘’Hello my lady’’ he says and I notice his crooked dirty smile. There is a reason why my mum doesn’t let me out…
‘’excuse me sir. You’re in my way..’’ I say disturbed.
‘’oh don’t play hard now ., come on ! you can’t be harder than I am ‘’ he touches his crotch making me blush and drop my jaw. Of course I know what he is hinting , it’s just i..god.. I try to push past him, and drop one of the tomato cans.
‘’alright then love ! ‘’ he says pissed and tightly grabs my arm.
‘’I’ll charge you half the money..’’ I hear a voice behind me and turn to see a girl with short curly hair and red lipstic plastered all over her face. The man looks at me for a while , and then lets go.
‘’come on then sailor !’’ she says and he smirks spitting the ground. I can’t move just yet.i take a few steps backwards and follow them just to see.
Then man has the girl , who must be around my age , pinned against the wall and just when he approaches to kiss her, she knees his crotch then punches his jaw , and finally shoving two of her fingers in his eyeballs. I start running in fear , my breathing getting faster by the minute. I turn left , then right , and after a few more minutes of running I am finally home. I notice a carriage , parked outside and I instantly know William is here. William is our landlord. He must be here for the rent. I think to myself ., and hear the door opening. I quickly hide round the corner. My mom doesn’t want him to see me. I’ve been avoiding him for the past 3 years. Successfully.
‘’Y/N ! oh god you had me so worried!’’ my mom hugs me as soon as I enter. I leave the can that’s left and the toothpaste on the counter. I glanced over Isaac, my brother, his fists were clenched and there was our one and single vase lying on the floor.
‘’is everything alright ?’’ I ask looking at him and then my mom again.
‘’yes it’ all-
‘’he fucking threatened us!’’ my brother cuts her off.
‘’is this about the rent?’’ I ask and she nods.
‘’He ‘’ my brother chokes on his saliva ‘’he said he wants his money by Friday or he is kicking us out ! ‘’
‘’did he ?’’ I ask and my mom nods
‘’but don’t worry honey, I’ll get my first check on Thursday!’’ Mom has been working as a waitress at a pub , and getting her first money from the new jobs , is of some level , a comfort.
‘’He can’t just kick us out !’’ he mumbles to himself picking up the pieces of the shattered vase.
‘’leave it love, I’ll do this , you two should sleep..’’ my mom says. Isaac is of age, and has been working at the town’s irony. He helps her despite her protesting and then we leave for our room. Well it’s not exactly a room. It’s basically thin wet walls with two matresses on the ground and Christmas lights preventing us from darkness.
‘’I’ll kill him one day’’ Isaac sets his glaces aside, lying down. As I follow his actions resting my hands between my thighs.
‘’How much did he ask for this time ?’’ I ask
‘’7 fucking hundred !’’ he gets pissed again , so I avoid the topic for the rest of the night. But just before I fall asleep , haunting thoughts fill my head. For I doubt a waitress’ salary , will be more than two hundred.
I was swipping the leaves of our doorstep when a crumbled paper got stuck in my mop.
‘’BABY DOLL AUCTION ! ‘’ was the title and my eyes crinkled in the horror. I had zero experience on sex. I had never been touched or even kissed, and the state of women in these streets , made me glad I hadn’t.
‘’it’s not as bad as you think….’’ I hear a voice and struggle to remember where I know it from , when a figure approaches me , making it easy. It’s the girl with the short hair covered in large warm dark blue trench coat.
‘’you don’t know what I think..’’
‘’ I know exactly what you think, I’ve been you..’’
‘’are you a baby doll ?’’
‘’no. I’m not that lucky. I was once though,..’’
‘’how is being a baby doll lucky ?’’
‘’do you know what a baby doll is ?’’ she asks raising an eyebrow.
‘’a..prostitute?’’ I know that’s what it is , but I placed the question mark just in case I am wrong.
‘’a long term prostitute darling..’’
‘’ prostitutes, are ‘’rented’’ by different guy every night. A baby doll is purchased. Long term contract.’’ She smiled
‘’how long was yours ?’’ I regret asking.
‘’3 years. And I’d take it over this anyday!’’ she says unbuttoning her jacket to reveal visible bruises through her undergarments.
‘’honey, if a rich guy gets the baby doll, he treats her right. Better than any of these skunks !’’ she laughs. The situation saddening me. ‘’as long as she ..treats him right as well’’ she winks and I blush again.
‘’how much did you get ?’’ I don’t know why I asked. Cause her jacket seemed expensive? Cause I wanted to know if her bruises were worth it ? I don’t know. But she smiled.
‘’I didn’t need to get payed. Leaved in a mansion, had servants. How would I possibly use the money ?’’ WHAT ? SHE GOT SOLD AND SHE GOT ON MONEY ?
‘’but my daughter got a fortune. 900 a month.’’ The thought of a girl nearly my age having a daughter disturbed me.
I threw the poster of the auction on the ground and swiped it off the street , the girl taking this as her cue to leave.
‘’ you’re pretty. You’d make good money..’’ she whispered before leaving , the thought making me tremble.
That is it. I hear the sound of keys , and then the door opens. I rush to my mom, waiting in anticipation. She leaves her brown gloves on the worn out sofa and drinks some water while we are literary hanging from every word she doesn’t say.
‘’well ?’’ Isaac breaks the silence. She gives us a sympathetic look and I don’t need no other answer.
‘’150’’ she whispers. Less than I expected.
‘’But mom ! William will be here any minute !’’ Isaac complains. I reach for the velvet bag under the sofa’s cussions and pull out our savings. Along with the 150 we now have 280. Which isn’t even the half.
‘’let’s just hope he’ll accept th- her voice cracks at the sound of our doorbell.
‘’To your room Y/N !’’ my mum yells and I do as told, as he enters. The only sound being that of his heavy boots on our crooked floor. I can’t make out much of their conversation, until it gets louder.
‘’I don’t have a bloody choice ! stop playing the victims.!’’
‘’but we are!’’ my brother says.
‘’I have a company to keep, a wife to feed , and a land to master ! and none of this is gonna happen with your shitty 300 ! ‘’ that is william’s voice of that I am sure.
‘’ we’re trying ! William!’’ my mother yells this time and there is a loud noise and then silence. Another loud noise.
‘’YOU TOUCH HER ONE MORE TIME !’’ my brother yells and there is laughter. I can’t keep doing this. I need to see what is happening.
To my presence , everything stops. William turns to look at me , Isaac’s mouth’s bleeding and my mother gives me the angriest look she has ever given me. William steps closer and my reflections encourage me to step backwards.
‘’well well well , I’d forgotten all about your daughter..’’ he places some hair behind my ear and I see Isaac’s jaw clenching.
‘’I’ve been charging for two mouths , when there is a third one…’’ his dirty thumbs brush my lips’’and what a mouth..’’ he whispers to me causing me to pull away.
He turns annoyed to my mum. ‘’tomorrow , my money , or you’re out ! for good this time !’’ his tone is serious as he makes his way to our door, but before disappearing he spins on his shoes and glances at me.
‘’you should come by the Bear’s Claw tomorrow..’’ I don’t understand the meaning but my mom answers a quick and sharp no. I wait for him to leave and then turn to her.
‘’what’s the bear’s claw?’’I ask.
‘’that’s where they sell baby dolls !’’ Isaac blurs out , confusing me on why he would know that…
I don’t say anything. I just let my lips curl a natural ‘’oh’’ and stare as my mom runs her fingers through her hair , repeating ‘’what are we going to do ?’’
I am awaken way before the sun rises , to our empty room, being even emptier, and Isaac shoving iron stuff in a bag.
‘’shhh! You’ll wake mom stupid !’’ I hiss
‘’mom’s already up, get your ass off of bed, and pack your things..’’ we laugh. For we both know. I don’t have any things.
‘’we can’t leave ! where will we go ?’’
‘’mom has a friend said he can have us as guest for a day…’’
‘’and then what ?’’ I ask worried.
‘’ we’ll find a place. Come on this isn’t so bad. At least we will not be under William’s territory. ‘’ he pinches my cheek. And I slap his forehead annoyed. I help mom and Isaac carry our stuff out the house, as we use our last money , taking a ‘’cab’’ to mom’s friend.
Her house is small, but we are grateful for her hospitality. We don’t bother unpacking, for we know we’ll have to pack again soon. Mom’s friend, Meissa is old but kind and has warm tea, which is more than enough. But as the day goes by , I realize it’s getting harder. I can’t sleep/ Not when I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep in a bed again. 900 . 9 fucking hundred. With that per month , mom could buy her own house and Jason could slowly start his own restaurant. I am 17 . I mean sex is gonna happen sometime soon right ? What am I even thinking? But maybe my buyer is nice, maybe he doesn’t force me into anything , maybe he will wait. Or maybe I can endure some amount of sex with a stranger knowing that my mom , Isaac and I , will have a roof above our heads. No. this is wrong. I leave the bed Melissa had given me , and face the full length mirror. We didn’t have a mirror, in William’s house. I unbutton my dress and let it fall to my ankles. I’ve been losing weight lately. I turn around. Nice bum , that’s what I have , maybe I could get more money. No. why am I saying this. I will never be a baby doll No matter how desperate I am I’ll never be a baby doll I’ll never be a baby doll I’ll never be a baby doll
I’ll never be a-
‘’WELCOME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN ! ‘’ a man in a funny hat is on stage. A rather big stage. The crowd includes only men. Of all ages , and I immediately want to run outside.
‘’Your mom sent you ?’’ I hear William’s voice, who is in a neat suit. A suit I believe he bought with our money.
‘’..no.. she doesn’t know I’m here..’’ I stutter , looking back at the door from where I entered.
‘’Listen , doll, why don’t you go backstage yeah ?’’ he says and I wonder is it that instant ? I mean just like that ?
‘’why would anyone be interested in me ?’’ I am shocked at my own words.
‘’love, you’re a virgin…and that’s a very rare thing…’’ he winks
‘’I want 1.000 ‘’ I demand.
‘’woah. Easy there. The salary depends on the auction , now go backstage , and yoru family can have their house back!’’ his persistence intrigued me to the point I wondered if he had already sold me to somebody. I couldn’t believe myself as y feet led me backstage.
The room was small and crowded filled with girls, again of all ages. Dressed in colorful exposing clothing. They looked much more decent and pretty than the ones I’d seen on the street a couple of days ago. An old lady approached me.
‘’Oh god ! this one’s not ready !’’ she yelled sitting me down at a chair, combing my hair and applying makeup. To my surprise as I looked in the mirror, my short blonde strands were now curly wild locks, and the dark shadows round my lids made my eyes a special blue. The image was unfamiliar. I was made to stood up and then a pair of dark see through knee socks were forced up my legs. A red bra with dark lace and fake diamonds made my small boobs appear huge, as a dark top hugged part of my stomach exposing my v lines . the red panties that much the bra are held by a plastic fabricated black belt that attaches to the knee socks. And they add a glove on my left hand. I am pushed in a line. And as I look over at all the other girls, I swallow the lump in my throat and think that this is the right thing to do. My motive is important. As girls enter the stage I hear music, and I pat the shoulder of the one infront of me.
‘’scuse me , what are we supposed to do ?’’
‘’sing , dance, show off..’’ she says and I freeze. Why god why ? isn’t it enough that I am giving myself away..? if anyope sees or hears me dancing and singing I’ll never be bought..and mom and Stiles will never get home.
‘’but I can’t dance !’’ I say. Well I’ve always liked it , ut I’ve never tried it. I notice I am the last girl in line. Well that is encouraging.
‘’of course you can. You’re a woman!’’ the girl winks.
‘’AAAND ALL THAT ..JAAAAAZZ!’’ the girl finishes and then there is talking and bids until someone yells sold. The girl doesn’t return, I assume it either stays on stage or , goes to her byer. I watch through the curtains the rest of them, trying to remember their moves. I only know one song. That I’d once heard from a pub. I can’t even remember the words. What am I gonna do. I look to my front. There is nobiody left. It’s my turn.
I am pushed on stage and I freeze infront of the hundreds of men staring at me. I notice that the girls have remained on stage. All sittiing at a corner on their chairs. With only one chair left. I hear coughing from the crowd. I grab my chair, and turn to that girl.
‘’help me…’’ I mouth and she whispers something to the others. . They all garbg their chairs and places them behind mine. Thank God , I don’t have to do it alone.
They strike a pose on their chairs, their heels on air, their backs bending. They all look so sexual and I just stand there. A beat begins to play. And I know soon I’ll have to sing.
‘’ I don’t know the words!’’ I say quite loud.
‘’never mind the words…sing..’’ she says. I glance at the crowd. And there is a man, in a thick mustache, striped black suit, holding a tiny flag.
The music stops since I don’t start singing,everyone is staring at me.
‘’be…’’ I look again at the man.’’…italian’’ I say and the music begins again. I try to think of other lyrics to fill the music , but nothing comes to mind so I just repeat the same ones. The girls start moving. Rubbing their legs,
‘’dance’’ the girl says , and I bend forwards .
‘’take a chance and try..’’ I mutter nervously trying to think of something as I notice two of the girls exchanging a quick kiss as part of the choreography.
‘’to steal a fiery kiss !’’ I drag the s. I know I am not doing well. The lyrics aren’t making sense and my dry mouth is giving my nervousness away. I try to earn time by repeating ‘’be italian’’ as I bend backwards this time slowly flipping my hair I bring the shoulder to my thigh and bite my lip as I say once more’’be italian’’ okay okay kiss rhymes with…this..oh god what am I about to do .
I start rubbing my calves slowly moving to my legs , thigs, belly ‘’when you hold me don’t just hold me but hold ‘’ I touch my boobs’’ this !’’ I hear the audience clapping now. I push my legs open , and twirl around them to stand at the beating pause.
‘’please be gentle’’ I slowly caress the chair opening my legs for a splits but instead I roll my hip to my right ‘’sentimental’’ I place my leg on the chair ‘’go ahead and try to give my cheek a pat’’ the other girls slap their upper thigh as they are now practically upside down on their chairs.
‘’but be daring!’’ I now step on the chair and come down from it the other way. I want to try the backwards thing they did. ‘’and uncaring’’…but I slip and end up holding onto the seat of the chair, which surprisingly seems as if I intended to do so.
‘’when you pinch me try to pinch me ‘’ I sit back on the chair ‘’where there’s ‘’I pinch my thigh ‘’fat!’’ somebody from the crowd laughs loudly and I blush.
‘’be a..si..singer !’’ I sing ‘’be a singer !’’ I hold onto the back of the chair with one hand and bend my head backwards ‘’be a lover’’ this time the other girls repeat my words. I hold onto the chair and swirl around it not able to think of any other lyrics when a girl comes to my rescue saying ‘’pick thye flower now before the chance is past’’ I stand up ‘’be Italian !’’ I say again ‘’be italian’’ past..past..LAST !
‘’live…today as if it may become your last !!!!’’ I fall onto the chair and the music slightly changes. Nobody sings, nor I or the girls, they are just doing a synchronized dance which I join , with ease. Damn I should’ve been a dancer. Suddenly the girls pull the defia from their acts, and throw me one as well as I mimic all their actions, scanning the crowd. The music speeds up and up and I am not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep up with their moves up and up and up when something in me strikes and I stand up singing louder
‘’be a singer’’ beat begins again and the girls stand up as well as we move towards the crowd’’ be a lover’’ ‘’pic the flower now before the chance is past’’
‘’be italian’’ I roll around myself
‘’live today as if’’ I stand on a random chair on the audience as the beat strikes once for every note I sing ‘’it . may. Be. Come. Your. LAST!’’ I drag the a as long as I can. There is clapping and cheering everywhere. I smile, because despite what is actually happening, this was worth smiling for. 10 of the girls on stage wear a ‘’sold’’ card on their stomachs and 5 of them , 6 if I include me, don’t. William gets up on stage and pushes us in one line.
‘’And now for the virgins!’’ reality hits me like a brick.
‘’an exception will be made on this auction , as our special client Mr Stilinski will chose first..’’ he says . One man from the crowd stands up. He looks almost 50 , with grey hair, in an expensive suit and he is smirking. Next to him, there is another man, well, more like boy. His hair are a gelled quif, and he has sunglasses on even though it is night, his shirt is slightly unbuttoned , and he whispers something to the standing man, standing up, and leaving.
‘’NUMBER 16’’ the man, Mr. Stilinski says and I see disappointed faces all around , until I realize I am number 16 . Shit. William grabs me and leads me off stage , sticking me a sold card , the whispering’’ I knew it’’ and then I am handed to my new owner.